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italoniponic · 2 years

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Hi- this was way too cute >////<

If its okay can i request the same thing but with different characters this time? Said characters would be: jade, floyd, and kalim? However if you dont want to you dont have to, just thought id ask 😀 thank you.

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲'𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

| Notes: Hi again, Playfully Anon! Sorry if this is almost turning into a competitive category of playfully avoiding hugs and kisses from a boyfriend lol Also, to my other readers, the same trope was made for Trey, Leona and Rook! Kalim had a different type of ending bc I felt like it should be more sweet and the twins' part could be more similar in a way. And Kalim is a baby boy (that’s my final statement) Thanks for the request <3 |

Kalim Al Asim, Floyd Leech, Jade Leech x g!n reader who playfully avoids their kisses and hugs / fluff / established relationship / part 2 / use of “you” pronouns

Cherry’s Harvesting event 🍒 Masterlist

No-Hugs Season

It's not news to anyone that Kalim likes to hug people, no matter what kind of relationship he has with them. Obviously with you it would be no different. He's your boyfriend, isn't he? One of the happiest things in his life, as if Kalim needed more reasons to wake up in the morning, resplendent with so much joy;

When you avoided hugging him that morning, Kalim was very confused. He tried again, almost covering you with his beige sweater but you escaped him faster than a snake. Your laughter was low but it managed to reach his ears. Oh well, you were having fun so he couldn't help but laugh too;

It seemed that you were playing “catch” just like Kalim did most times with his little siblings back at his home. Was that your intention? But when he stopped for a moment during a conversation with you to kiss your cheek, you swerved and Kalim practically kissed thin air. Kalim had seen alchemical equations simpler than this situation;

With singular patience, Jamil was obliged to explain to Kalim what you were doing — or what he was almost sure you were doing. Have you been finding Kalim too clingy lately? Why wouldn’t you? Either way, he explained that you're just playfully avoiding his cuddles;

This generated an embarrassing stream of questioning — “why would you do that?” “Is it fun?” “Couples do it?” “I think I've seen it once in a movie, do you remember the name?” — which Jamil no longer wanted to answer. Well, at least Kalim now understood things a little better and decided to contribute to your fun as much as he could!;

Between class exchanges and breaks, free moments, and more, Kalim sneaked up on you and you slipped out of his arms — or rather, you engaged both of you in a dance that ended up distracting Kalim. It is only when you said goodbye with a nod that he realized his failure. But still, dancing with you was always good;

Once Kalim followed Lilia’s idea and caught you with one of the bandanas from his collection, leaving you cornered in front of him. You couldn't help it at the time. Your luck is that Kalim was so fascinated by the gleam in your eyes up close — he should try that more often — that he forgot to try to kiss you;

Even though Kalim was missing having you close to him, there’s something very special about the experience of coming after you and trying to hold you, like an illusion of an oasis that you want to believe is concrete. Maybe really “fight” for your feelings, you know? Kalim was sure that he would always search for you, no matter the circumstances;

That day, you found Kalim sitting in the stairs, arranging his school supplies to check if he had remembered to bring the history report. You approached him carefully and when Kalim stood up, you gave him a big hug. That sudden action surprised him but he laughed out loud when he saw that it was you;

“Tired of playing? It's okay,” Kalim put his backpack aside and hugged you back. In fact, he was practically squeezing you. “I missed you.” His almost heartfelt tone melted your heart. You were also satisfied with this move and ready to return to normality and his cuddles;

When you went down the stairs, you handed over Kalim's report that he had forgotten in the library the other day. You knew because he had dropped everything to try to hug you the moment you passed by — but you both got scolded by the librarian. Kalim was so happy that, without thinking twice, he took your face and kissed you.

The two of you have been dating for a certain time and it’s a great joy for Floyd because he loves hugging you almost all the time, literally squeezing you with all the love he has to give. So when you started avoiding his hugs, he was very confused. What was the matter, little shrimp? Why are you running away?;

Even his kisses! Floyd went so far as to ask if you had banged your head to suddenly stop wanting to do anything with him — or were you no longer in the mood? You quickly assured him that this wasn’t the case, you were just wanting to “keep your distance” for a while. Floyd didn't quite understand what you meant by that;

It was Azul who pulled him aside for a moment to explain your “little game.” This excited Floyd, he understood as if it was some kind of challenge that you were playing with him. Which was not entirely true, nor entirely untrue. Azul simply let Floyd go, refusing to explain further. He was your problem now anyways;

And as expected, Floyd spent a good time having fun with your alleged challenge. He would scour the hallways looking for you, trying to ambush you to give you a hug and a kiss. So you would run from him, sometimes laughing and sometimes actually running away. Floyd ran through the other students as if they were nothing;

Maybe if you were at sea, Floyd would have an easier time holding you with his tail but, on land, you would take advantage of his long arms to get around him and escape being surrounded by him. In fact, the more you did it, the more dexterity you acquired. It was like watching someone train a big wild animal — lucky for Ace that Floyd didn't heard him say it;

When you were alone, just talking, Floyd would suddenly lean in front of you to try to leave a kiss somewhere on your face. Anywhere was worth it. Usually, you just blocked him with your hand and continued with what you were saying. This made Floyd laugh, lighting up the mood;

But having the kisses blocked didn't get so bad when you started taking a pot of takoyakis everywhere and putting it in Floyd's mouth every time he made those approaches. His lips touched the salty surface of that little fried food, his favorite. Then he would collect the takoyaki with his tongue and swallow it, satisfying at least his hunger;

Like Floyd, another person who was having fun with all this playful banter was Jade. While everyone was more afraid of the implications of a Floyd in love — who will raise the world to catch up with you — Jade considers the whole thing a unique entertainment. Maybe it's a twin-thing where when one is happy, the other is happy too;

Unfortunately the fun came to an end because Floyd began to feel that the joke had lost its fun. For a few days, you stood next to Floyd, and he walked next to you in a silent, sour mood. He was tired of chasing you, even if he still wanted to hug you until your ribs or his arms broke. But he was no longer in the mood for any of this;

It was an ordinary afternoon and you found Floyd sitting on the courtyard grass, kinda sulking. You wondered if he was still in the process of regaining the urge to play again or if maybe it was a good time for you to let it go and get back to normal. It was good while it lasted. You calmly approached him, crouching down so you could look each other in the eye;

And then, long arms surrounded you before you could do anything. “Gotcha, Koebi-chan,” Floyd smiled, a dangerously calm tone. You felt your face turn red, just like a shrimp. Floyd must have also come to this conclusion because he started laughing while squeezing you tightly.

Anyone who sees Jade from afar might even think that he understands something of romance, but in fact his knowledge is very limited. The little he knows is the way merfolk court each other and yet the closest he has to reference is his parents’ love story — a complicated soap opera of romance, crime, a few murders and... um, you already know too much;

Still, Jade knows how to please you and kisses and hugs are a pretty simple thing to do. Or so he thought. One day, you seemed to simply decide that you wouldn't let your boyfriend hug you at all. But from the way you giggled softly, as if provoking him, Jade concluded that it was a healthy joke between lovers;

Well, Jade likes healthy banters. Even without quite understanding the purpose of you playfully running away from him, Jade followed you. When he tried to hug you from behind — hidden and surprising — you jumped out quickly, like a fish that cunningly escaped from a net. You laugh together, this action repeating itself a few more times;

Kissing, on the other hand, required a more direct strategy. When you talked — preferably face-to-face — Jade would approach your face quickly, in an attempt to at least get to your nose. The first time you got scared and literally fell back in your seat. So in the following times, you have already come up with ways to deviate from it;

With some nearby object, you blocked Jade’s lips and stared at him, containing your laughter. Poor thing, he hadn't made it this time! Your gaze was a tease itself. You were having so much fun being able to make a fool of him. It wasn’t for nothing that Jade liked to do this most of the time, the feeling was great;

Jade didn't quite know what he was feeling. The thrill of practically hunting you through the sea of students, looking for a gap in your posture to pounce on you with a hug and steal a kiss, directly conflicted with his frustration. He was smarter than that, he would find a way to beat this joke you included him;

Floyd had never seen his brother so focused on anything other than mushrooms and mountains. He laughed a lot watching the scenes of you skirting Jade's arms and hiding behind his back, avoiding him at all costs. Jade was annoyed with him because of this, even though he had a thin smile on his face to maintain his calm demeanor. He wanted to see if Floyd would be all happy if it was him in that situation;

After the fifth failure that day, Jade locked himself in his bedroom to think about what to do. Unfortunately, Floyd was also there to torture him a bit, recapping everything he was doing wrong. Suddenly Jade had an idea;

It was a simple Saturday morning. You found Jade crouching inside the Ramshackle’s garden, looking for something. According to him, it was the earring that he always wore, lost somewhere in the grass while he was going to meet you to go to classes together. You didn't approach Jade right away, suspicious that he had some plan on his hands;

But when Jade turned to ask for your help, you stared into his eyes, desperate and helpless. He once said how important that earring was, an unforgettable reminder of the Leech twins’ adventures. It made your heart ache. Sighing, you crouched next to him and squinted at the lifeless grass. Despite everything, it was kind of ridiculous to take so long to find an turquoise piece in the middle of that yellowish and colorless grass;

So, you got caught. When Jade squeezed you into his arms and gave you a strong kiss on your cheek — the kind that even makes a noise — you realized that it was a plan all along and you fell right for his bait. You hit his knees, nearly sending both of you plummeting across the meadow, but Jade's victorious laugh — rare as the scaly earring in his pocket — made you regain your good humor in no time.

#twisted wonderland #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst headcanons #cherry's writing #cherry's harvesting

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alpinelogy · 5 months

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10 & 19!

Lourdes do you have the slightest idea what have you just asked me? Thank you so much for asking :DD

10. Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

maybe we got lost (in translation) a thousand times over. Beyond the fact that it is my second fic that has broken the 100 kudos barrier which is already insane to me cause I did not expect anyone to read it since its a niche ship imo, the way people see the fic is so different from the way I saw it as I wrote it. For me it is a fic mainly about language and communication and how it changes based on who we talk with. Also specifically Esteban's relationship with English is very much based on my own experience with it, from being thrown into an English-speaking group and told to swim to English slipping in even when he is speaking in a different language ('the language spoken is a mess of French and English') Meanwhile at least from comments people see the relationship between Esteban and Lance way more strongly than I do. Which fair, it was partially written as a love letter to my bilingual friends who try to understand me even when my brain does not comprehend language and in hindsight I sometimes ignored the language part in favor of developing their friendship so I can see where they are coming from. And the fic is tagged as estelance so... lol Essentially what I am trying to say here is that people focused on way more on a part I considered secondary than I did while writing it, but I can see why. Also I've gotten so many nice comments on it and even tho I forgot to respond to them I do reread them on the regular because they spark so much joy (also first time someone whose writing I enjoy commented on my fic and it sent me for a loop lol)

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.

I actually dont have that many wips rn, I know, shocking, its mostly just scribbled ideas and disconnected scenes. And kinkmeme claims cause I currently have uh... 50 of those

Anyway i do have this. A race engineer!Oscar AU Loscar in which Logan has never been normal about anything related to Oscar. Ever. Starring Logan as a pining mess, Oscar as the calm and collected love interest and Fred, Alex, and Liam as the victims of Logan's pining

“Good morning Logan.” Oscar says as a first thing on the first day of testing over the radio and Logan returns back to his thoughts of screaming, almost vibrating out of his seat in excitement. Goes back to his year old promise of not doing anything stupid ten seconds into the season. Hopes that when the cameras catch his inevitable joy after he gets back to the garage it will be brushed off to just being glad to be back in the car, rather than anything else. As a worst case scenario, he will just put up the Alex Albon patented peace signs because those always somehow make pictures so much more grounded and Alex is really onto something there, Logan needs to study it. He will need it for this year. Probably. Maybe. Most likely. It's fine. It's, whatever. It's definitely not that Logan also spends so much time looking at Oscar in meetings that Fred has noticed. It's definitely not that Fred, with all the subtlety he has, cornered Logan in his drivers room and unceremoniously asked what gives two days into the season. Logan deserved that one probably. When Logan tries to brush him off, it seemingly works because Fred lets himself be brushed off, does not mind Logan redirecting the conversation onto another topic instead. Logan does not know what actually awaits him days later. It's Liam this time, who corners him a few days later, after testing, after the first race weekend of the year properly starts, right after the last free practice before qualifying. Being Formula Two teammates must have done something to their understanding of personal space between each other because Liam waltzes into his driver's room like he owns the place without even knocking. Logan has a half mind to kick him out just for that, force him to knock before entering.

(this got long but look, this is 300 words out of 7.8k that i am fighting to stay under 10k it's small okay?)

fic writer ask game

#ask #ask game #argentinagp #i have not ranted about maybe we got lost (in translation) for a hot sec. glad i could change that today :3. i love talking about it #also rereading bits of it jesus christ i was comma heavy when i wrote it. english does not have that many commas girl (gn) what #also if anyone wants to talk about (working name) galaxy collapse aka the loscar wip that lives rent free in my noggin hmu

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adel-memes · 1 year

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Can I request number 6, ‘you’re making that face again…’ with Blue and/or Vio? I absolutely adore that duo, and feel they could use more bonding. I mean, if that’s alright with you, first and foremost!

The blorbos >:) ofc it's gonna be Blue AND Vio >:) though I forgot the prompt list so idk if line continued or it's hurt comfort or not but here's fluff and crack

If it is one thing to note about them is that Blue has a very specific relationship with each hero and friend.

Red and Blue are known to be glued together, wherever one goes the other is right behind him. Green and Blue are known to complete each other in a way that they are each other's strength. Even Blue and Shadow are known for something and it's their constant nagging and roughhousing.

Though Vio and Blue?

They're known for being odd. Their opinions and personalities clash in a way where neither was wrong for it. Which.. makes their agreements a horrifying experience. Blue is known to go and be around crowds, something about hating being alone despite how he barely ever talks in these gatherings. Vio could notice his awkwardness from a mile away and he scoffs every time.

If Blue was right beside the captain in a gathering with well-known nobles, Vio would be outside away from the noise. If Blue was up early in the morning doing the dishes for some damn reason, Vio would be just heading to bed after setting a mug in the sink. He enjoys cleaning, and Vio enjoys not taking responsibility- jokes. That was a joke. He is the most accountable person ever and owns up to it-

Anyway.

Point is.. they clash and balance depending on the time of day. It's either their greatest strength or worst weakness. That was their reputation and Blue liked it! He takes joy in knowing they oppose one another! It makes things interesting!

Which is why they must never ever EVER find out about this little hangout of theirs. They won't ever hear the end of it!

The hangout? Their little bookclub that consists of two individuals and an occasional cat?

Now look.. for Blue's sake, he does not want anyone outside these walls of the study room to hear about his ramblings about why these books about science and history are the best ever (except for Vio) because apparently he doesn't want to acknowledge he did a complete 180 as soon as he found a good book.

For Vio though? He doesn't really care, he would invite them but he knows Blue would die and never show up again and since he enjoys his reactions and debates, he just.. teases that he would invite someone. Just to scare him and watch him throw the book and try to scramble away. It's funny to him.

Which is what makes these hangout way way funnier to him.

"Ah.. Blue?" he starts, almost innocently except for the smug smile on his face.

Blue, who has a scowl on his face so stretched that it was almost uncanny, snaps a glare at him. Eyes blazing with fury along with his red face as he holds the book Vio chosen for him, one that is very on the nose on its genre based on the cover.

"What." he manages to get out through his clenched jaw that Vio just grins at.

Now look.. here is the issue.

Vio takes Blue to the library to return and buy books with, and on the way they agreed on the types. Blue will get one of those 'horrible annoying excuse of a romance story' that Vio recommends and Vio will pick up one of his 'oh so great scientific ground breaking discovery-' and long rambles of why his genre is better (it is not but whatever)

Except here is the thing. Vio didn't mention to him that he wants to read the book at the library until they found both books and he knows Blue won't back out at all due to his prideful front and refusal to get 'scared' of a 'stupid book with stupid people who don't even have good chemistry!' His excuse for their change of plans was that he missed the library and wanted to later wander but knew Blue was busy so it's best to have their mini meet up there.

His actual reason is because he got bored and wanted to mess with Blue's fear of being perceived but that's besides the case-

"You did not read a single page." he points out bluntly. To which Blue scoffs as he reveals the book and shows him the back cover that he was staring at. "There! That's one! I did!" he hisses in a hushed voice.

For his sake, Vio did take them to a corner spot that had few seats at. Away from the entry and people just so Blue doesn't actually run off.

Vio flips through his book, something he would be seen with and not questioned for. He had a reputation apparently that since he was 'quieter' he was one of the 'smarter' ones and while yes he won't deny it. People are mistaking his ability to adapt as being smart. The truth is that he is absolutely horrible at these things, it's his quick thinking that saves him.

But he won't let them know that. He won't mind fueling that deception and pretend. It's not really his fault if people assume things about him! He just.. doesn't confirm it! That's all!

Anyway, this makes his situation easier. Boring? Yes. But much easier since it fuels the lie that he is smart because who else would bother read about science and all?

But back to the main point! These books are boring! There's no drama! No horrible one-liners! Nothing entertaining!

Which was why he decided for a change and got Blue to stay at the library with him. If he's gonna die from boredom, might as well create some entertainment!

That's why he sits criss-crossed on the floor just in front of Blue, leaning against a shelf. Blue did almost go for the seat before seeing Vio choose the floor and joined, his excuse was that so Vio didn't feel alone though Vio noted the subtle ear twitch. Telltale signs of his attempts at lying.

Though when Blue shifted and sat with his knees to his chest and his body hunched in an uncomfortable reading position. Vio knew then that it is an attempt to hide as if he wasn't already off.

"Come on. It isn't that bad." he snickers and Blue rolls his eyes and read the synopsis in a horrified voice. His voice shaking as he gripped the book that he is almost worried he would rip it apart.

The story isn't horrible! It's a tale of a florist and a baker who had a meet-cute and filled to the brim cheesy flirts and many many puns that Vio rolled his eyes at.

He chose it for two reasons. He knows every cheesy scene will kill Blue and make him shrivel up and die right in front of him.

And the second reason is that he likes puns. His obnoxiously loud laugh at Green's puns had to be real. No one would fake laugh like that. Especially Blue.

"Vio I hate them."

"Come on it isn't that bad."

It was.

"Her name is Rosie. She's a florist. Are you kidding me."

"... Your point?" Vio asks innocently and Blue groans and tries to kick him. Vio snickers at the reaction.

Eventually, he does hear a page flip. He glances up from his book to see Blue's face, an expression so forced so strained it had to be painful as he read the chapter title.

His gaze narrows as he glances up with an unamused look.

"What?" he asks, trying to bite back his laugh.

"... the chapter title is a flower pun."

All of them were.

"I know. Funny right?" he asks on purpose, observing him.

"... No it isn't."

His ear twitchs, Vio noticed it twitch. He got what he wanted. Blue continued to read and every now and then, he would glance up to see an exaggerated look on the other. A reaction that had to be purposefully exaggerated.

Though he notices two things. One is where he does look in pain as if it pains him to read the fake dating trope with the baker and florist.

Though the other reaction.. he couldn't place his finger on it. There was a twitch on his lips, a scowl that was forced but not in a dramatic way. He pairs it with the skimming eyes and flipping of pages.

Then it slows and he would stare at it dumbfounded and reread it (he assumes?)

"Ah.. Blue?"

Blue, who seemed too focused, snaps back to reality with eyes wide like a deer in surprise. "Uh yeah? You found it interesting?" he asks instantly, referring to the science book. Ah. He forgot he had to read too... oops?

"Yes. I wanted to ask if you're alright?" he asks, this time genuinely curious over Blue's thoughts than to tease him.

"Yes I'm okay. I'm annoyed though."

His ear doesn't twitch. Hm.

"Why?"

".. I'll tell you about it later." Blue mutters before going back to reading. Vio assumes it was just to get it done.

A couple of glances again and the expression was back. This time Vio didn't wait as he points it out. "You're making that face again." he says, bluntly.

Blue jumped, closing the book though his finger was still in it as he snaps to look at him. "What face?!" he hisses.

Vio stares for a minute before spelling it out. "You're clearly having strong opinions. It isn't like you to stay quiet and not give me your thoughts on it." he says.

"Maybe cause I don't want to be heard?!"

"Unlikely. It never stopped your complaining." he retorts.

Then for a long staring match, Blue sighs in defeat as he shuffled to sit right next to him and whispers. "It's stupid. It's cute. I hate them. They're funny. Why are they taking so long to be together. Their pining is painful and I'm eating it up. Can you shut up and let me finish and pretend this never happened?!" he hisses into his ear before going back to reading.

Vio, smug as ever, grins and goes back to reading his book. "Glad you agree." he whispers back, "... But I won't let you pretend it never happened." he jokes, just to watch Blue react violently with the book getting thrown and him getting up with a 'IM LEAVING' followed by Vio running after him with a laugh, leaving the two books aside just to chase his friend.

Of course he would let him pretend this never happened.

Mostly.

Not really.

#four swords #blue link #vio link #adel writes #if you notice any typo or repetition its cause I did not proof read or edit this 🤡

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bibliocratic · 3 years

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clear the area jonmartin, post-MAG200 content warnings in the tags

They earn their ending. A happy-ever-after beyond the gaze of any eyes.

Jon endures his abdication. This world has no Archivists, has need of none, the thankless crown of Knowing finally unburdened from his shoulders. The blood washes off Martin’s hands with soap and scrubbing and scalding water. They live.

The end. In conclusion. Fin.

Jon’s new scar, the packaging of his skin split ragged from collarbone to sternum, fades like sun-caught paint. A maw of red pursing to a gummy primrose pink, settling into a rough cartography of white.

The first few months are hard. Brimstone flare-up silences and ice-pick shouting, open-handed forgiveness and closed-fist weeping. They drain themselves to husks with anger and worry and grief until there is enough space for better things to grow there in their stead. Jon’s nightmares were a nightly stormfront to bear, sweated sheets and dawn fanfares of panic and dread, but he is learning now, with the space for his ribs to expand, that it is ok for them to breathe here.

Jon digs up the garden with a rusty trowel until it is a bumpy canvas of mulch and soil, dirt tucked under his fingernails and decorated with smudges up to his elbows. He hums while he irons their shirts in front of the television, thoughtless and senseless with tune.

Martin has tried to, but the sound goes down the wrong way.

Martin is happy.

It isn’t the sight as such, that might sit as a film over his vision to tinge his waking sepia. The reddest thing they own is a terracotta plant plot brimming with raggedy thyme that lives a precarious cliff-top existence on the kitchen windowsill. He observes Jon’s face in all its variations, even pained – when he snags splinters in his fingers, when he stubs his toe on the stone front step and swears damnation – and his response is sympathy tempered by admonishment.

It’s not the sensation, not really, that might tremble on his skin. Martin’s palms tend to dryness inside their homely bubble of creaky central heating, hemmed in by boisterous coastal winds. He handles bread knives and butter knives and steak knives and carving knives without the muscle memory of other blades, and he thinks he might be getting pretty handy with his oven experimentation.

It’s the sound. It wakes him, the noise lingering like the echo of a slap.

The slick punch of metal into muscle. A tooth-bared, tense-jawed gasp.

Resurfacing to shocked consciousness, he would be seized by a frenzy, to know, to check. His scattering hand scrabbling for the lamp with such force he hit it off the nightstand to roll in a giddy clatter, throwing off the covers to rapidly pollute both of them with the outside air. Jon would be rocked from sleep, groggy, panicked, and Martin’s words would not come, a train of thought trying to race full steam where no one had laid tracks, so it would be just the two of them, exhausted and upset and amping the other up in misery.

Now, upon his rousing, Martin knows not to turn on the light. He does not check. The aftermath of punch-gasp curls in his ear, and he inhale-exhale-inhales with the ferocity of mantra, and clamps the threatened tears in the clench of his teeth.

He does not wake Jon.

“How did you sleep?”

“Oh, you know me. Like a log.”

He is happy. He is. Why wouldn’t he be?

Jon rumbles like a rusty mechanism with snoring whenever he drops off on his back, and he mumbles accusatory when Martin coaxes him to his side. Martin finds black hairs on his pillowcase, in the shower plug. Jon is a vista of experience since the Eye left him, who gets hungry and tired and grumpy and drunk and silly and fed-up and giggly. Jon searches him out with the surety of magnets, and loves him, loves him, loves him. He seals kisses to Martin’s new landscape of extensive scars. Their disagreements, when they surface, are as meaningful and lasting as stones skipped on water.

Martin wanted this. He wants this. The rhythms of domesticity fading to foam on an untroubled shore.

He is out of practise with happiness, that’s all. It doesn’t come to him like breathing. He needs to till the earth of it, shelter its seeds from a thousand circling crows until it bears harvest.

He just has to try harder.

Night-time.

An episode or two of something simple, Jon nodding off like a capsizing ship before the credits. Encouraging him up in grousing, unwilling increments, rubbing out the nettle sting of pins and needles up his own arm. Check the locks, the light switches. Brush teeth. Pyjamas. Put his phone to charge, read until Jon succumbs to sleep. Click the light off, pushing Jon onto his side so his mouth doesn’t dry. Jon squirming around like a fastidious octopus until he has at least half his limbs hooked over Martin.

The dark creating shadow play. In the absence, Martin colouring in the gaps with lurid shades of disaster.

A creak – the rattle of a door downstairs, an intruder unfastening the back door, transferring their weight upon the staircase. A unfamiliar scent – the recollection of smoke-stench in his nostrils, the acrid promise of gas, the ferrous pungency of blood. The rain will flood their house to drown them. The wind will blow their roof in. Jon hooks his leg around Martin, the skin void of hair where Daisy’s mouth had almost torn it off, and all he can envision is the ways this could be destroyed as he watches.

Bundle Jon close. Ignore the rain, the itch at the bottom of his stomach, the queasy roil of his fear. Drift into unkind sleep populated with its garden of earthly terrors.

Martin is… not happy. Not exactly. And that’s fine. It’s fine.

Jon is happy.

Jon, rubbing at the compression lines around his hips, the accusatory splay of the top button refusing to budge closed:

“I can’t fit into my jeans.”

Martin enfolds him from behind, planting his palms over the slight paunch of Jon’s stomach, filled out through sensible eating and small indulgences and a hunger that will never be ravenous but has restored its human qualities.

“Hmm. It’s a good look on you. Healthier.”

“Or it’s middle age.”

“Or it’s eating things that aren’t tea and meal-deal sandwiches.”

“Or other people’s terror.”

“Oh yes, you’re right, I completely forgot about your subsistence diet of eldritch and unbidden horrors in a luscious wholegrain wrap, forgive me.”

Jon laughs at that. The sound has not yet lost its novelty for either of them.

He shifts, turns, his arms a buoy around Martin’s stomach.

“You’ve lost weight.”

“Must be all the clean air,” Martin quips. “All that healthy living.”

Punch. Gasp. Exhale.

Martin wakes up.

When his heart has wound down from the pace of its gallop, he extricates himself from Jon’s grip. It is a laborious task to find the places where they’ve joined in the night and pull them apart, like separating fabric snagged on rosebushes.

He gets some water from the cold tap in the kitchen. Sits heavily on the sofa, the room cossetted by the gloom.

Punch. Gasp. Exhale.

His hands shake.

He doesn’t go back to bed.

He isn’t happy, but he could grow to be. He could. He could. He just isn’t trying hard enough.

Some days, he feels like he’s waiting for the ice to give under them.

Check the passers-by as they walk. Anyone familiar, any teeth filed too sharp, anything animal or blood-shot, any eyes that glance too deep.

Check the oven. The gas knobs are angled to off but a leak is not impossible in a house this old, their alarm might malfunction, they might fall asleep and some spark from a plug socket could catch and incite a conflagration.

Check the window latches. The opening wide enough for a body to squirm through, the claws of a Hunter marring the sill. Wriggling infestations that invade through the letter box, the keyhole, the gap under the door where the wind can whistle through.

Check. Check. Check.

Jon is happy. Jon has a job, work friends, a hundred small luxuries that he has struggled to earn. Jon is happy, so why can’t he be? He went through so much less, the blood washed off easily with soap, what the fuck does he have to cry over –

Martin has always crafted his masks from scrap, tongue out in concentration, piecing things together in low light, a make-do-and-mend of his own devising. His early efforts, the paper mâché and glue easily cracked before he learned to shore up his constructions. He has a small collection garnered over years.

The quiet-voiced, muffled-stepped, muted-smiled creation of a Good Son.

The zipped-mouth, no-refusals-no-complaints-yes-of-course-how-high earnestness of the Good Employee, the desperation sanded off the edges so no one could see.

The I’ll-get-the-first-round friendliness, the open-handed, open-hearted, too-naïve Good Colleague.

This new mask forms in increments, in the same way a rising mound of dirt marks the extent of a grave being dug.

He doesn’t mean to. It’s just he’s better at not talking about things. He always has been. And it is an ugly, easy comfort, to slip back into bad habits.

And Jon is happy.

All the things Martin does not wish to permit the light to touch he compresses inside like shaken soda. The rot in him deepens structural, the places where he papers over moulds and fungal speckles with the distraction of their new life. His smile parades simple, contented, cheeky, teasing, and there is a meticulous artistry in each. He sketches interest, paints joy, manufactures irritation out of the clay of nothingness that he allows himself to feel instead of the overwhelming rush of everything else.

I love you, his mouth murmurs, laughs, sighs, groans, and that at least is always true.

The mask of a Good Partner slips on tailor-made.

They find their nine-to-fives. Jon’s job is uneventful, boring, and nowhere near an Archive. He works in a registry office for the council, filing and organising and he’s cheerfully lied on his CV in order to get it. He gets the bus and texts Martin grumpy faces and GIFs summarising his mood when he gets suck in the commute or some idiot parks in a bus lane, he has a couple of colleagues he likes and a greater number that he tolerates, he gets a hot chocolate from this universe’s overpriced multinational chain on his lunch hour. When he gets home, he complains with delight at the mundanity of his dissatisfactions, regales Martin with tales of meagre drama.

Martin gets a cleaning job at a school. It is monotonous, dull and safe. Martin loses track of the time easily, quagmired in his musings. The children are wary of him and his visible scarring but it doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. The teachers are friendly enough, as well as the other cleaning staff, but he does not make friends. They’ll have to move anyway, if anything finds them here, if the Fears emerge again.

Martin tries not to feel like he’s waiting.

He wants to have a good night’s sleep.

“I’ll have breakfast at the school, don’t worry.”

“There were some leftovers from the canteen, so I’m kind of full.”

“It was one of the teacher’s birthdays, you know, Denise? Heh, might have had a bit too much cake. I’ll pop this in the fridge for later though, it’ll keep till tomorrow.”

“I’m just not that hungry tonight, Jon.”

He feels sharper when he doesn’t eat. It is uncomfortable, a scratched-out, hollowing sensation, but things focus more. He can control nothing else but this, and it feels good, to have this mastery over himself when so much is beyond him.

He drops down notches on his belt and tells Jon it’s all the walking he’s doing.

The world continues to happen to them. He goes to the cinema with Jon and picks at popcorn and encourages Jon’s outraged opinion. He meets Jon’s mildly interesting work friends and plays nice and excels at small talk, and he drinks half a cider that he nurses over the evening because it’s making his head fuggy. His body communicates its sharpness to him and he gains grim satisfaction from ignoring it. He goes to work and goes home and doesn’t sleep and goes to work and goes home and doesn’t sleep.

Martin does his best at living, and his mask doesn’t slip.

“You seem tired,” Jon pries his words out carefully, picking them out of his teeth as one would scraps. “Is… is everything ok?”

“Yeah, sure it is. Why?”

“… you seem a bit down today. Recently. Is anything… is there anything you want to talk about?”

“I’ve just been working too hard. Been a while since I had to do double-shifts, heh, I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“If you’re sure?”

Jon shifts to a different position where he’s sat on the sofa, his legs tucking up under him. Martin endures his questioning gaze with practise.

“Yeah, I’m all good.”

Martin delivers a hand-crafted smile that’s gilded heavily with guilelessness and reassurance. He watches as Jon believes him and hates himself.

“You know… You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but you can – you know you can talk to me, Martin?”

Martin’s eyes focus on Jon’s chest at the point where a knife once sunk in, and doesn’t reply.

Punch. Gasp. Exhale.

Martin wakes up.

Jon has twisted over onto his back again, rattling like a chain-smoker’s cough with his snoring. They were quiet that evening, tangled up in their own thoughts, but there is none of that distance in sleep. During the night, Jon’s wormed himself out of the covers with a single-minded determination, his restless legs squashing the duvet to the bottom of the bed on his side, encouraging Martin’s to follow suit.

He’s shirtless, his top chucked off to pile unceremoniously on the floor. The temperature is ripe with a burgeoning summer heat, and Jon tosses and complains if he’s overwarm, and Martin didn’t think he’d get to feel the drudgery of another lived summer. He’s shirtless, and the room is palled in sweltering dark that softens the vague shapes of the wardrobe, the chest of drawers, the knickknacks of the life they’re building together. He’s shirtless, and Martin cannot see where the scar is, the only scar of Jon’s he has ever thought ugly, but he knows it is there. That he put it there. That he could just as easily be waking up alone.

His body pains him to live in it. His stomach tight and bottomed out empty.

He is so so tired.

Martin’s heartbeat does not slow down. His chest constricting, and he swallows, a sharp sound hiccupping in his throat. He stifles it with a forceful sniff but more come as a painful spasming wave, and he has to sit up if any air is to dribble into his lungs.

He should get up. He has to get up, do this in the bathroom, doubled-over the sink, stifling his weakness where it cannot be witnessed. He cannot do this here.

Punch. Gasp.

His burning face is soaked as he bunches up his sleeves against his reddening eyes. A calming exhale drains out shaky, moulds itself into another loud sob. He plants his hands over his mouth, screwing his eyes closed, and this will pass, he’s fine, this will pass…

“Martin?”

I’m sorry to wake you, he thinks to say. It’s nothing, go back to sleep, stop looking at me Jon, I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s nothing, it’s nothing…

His shoulders start to shake.

“Martin?” Jon repeats slowly. And the ice creaks and cracks and Martin gasps and then it breaks, and the force of his damned-up grief is tidal, catastrophic and he sobs into his hands.

“It’s… it’s alright – it’s… it was a nightmare, that’s all, ‘s alright…”

“It’s not!” Martin bubbles out, the words mashed to a wail in his hands. “It’s not, it’s not, it’ll ruin this…”

“Hey.” Jon brings his arm around Martin and he buries his head in the bony crook of his shoulder because he does not want to meet Jon’s eyes. “What do you mean? Martin?”

Jon rubs at his back. Martin’s body betrays him in a hundred ways as it collapses around him. His weeping wrings him out, dry-mouthed and headachy and trembling when he subsides into shivery breaths.

“Talk to me,” Jon says. “Please.”

“You’re so happy,” Martin sniffs out. “I-I want you to be happy, god, o-of course I do. Things are, they’re good, they’re good and we won, s-s-so why does it feel like I’m still holding my breath? I-I go to bed and I’m frightened of every noise, and I wake up and I’m terrified that someone somehow could take this all away, and I can’t sleep, and I-I’m tired, Jon, I’m tired of holding my breath, and it’s all – it’s all so much a-a-a-and I can’t – ”

“Oh, Martin – ”

His words fail him then. Jon holds him up and his arms do not loosen.

“We-we’re going to fix this,” Jon says after a long while. “I promise you, together, we’ll – we’ll talk to someone. You aren’t alone in this. Together, alright, we’ll do this together. We’ve survived – everything else, we can get through this too.”

“I don’t know if I can believe you,” Martin says, too drained to avoid honesty.

“…Maybe not yet,” Jon says after a pause. “That’s OK. I can wait.”

I’m sorry, Martin attempts to say but Jon presses a kiss to his forehead.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Jon says. He strokes Martin’s sweat-soaked hair.

“… Can we talk? Tomorrow? You don’t have to tell me everything, but… I’d like to be there for you, if you want me. If you’ll let me.”

Martin nods because he doesn’t trust his gummed-up throat. Jon takes that as an answer.

Dawn comes in slowly enough but they see it in together.

#tma #the magnus archives #cw racing thoughts #cw anxiety #tw eating disorder #tw ptsd #ask to tag #cw nightmares #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #jonmartin #tma spoilers

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ivy-loves-chocolate · 3 years

Text

Note: this was a commission I got from a supporter on ko-fi. I hope that you’ll read it with the same enjoyment I had while writing it. If you want to commission or support me check the pinned post or the hyperlink, you’ll find all the details there. If you have questions, my DM is open 🤗. Also, your comments are always welcomed.

Promt: Wesker forgets about the reader’s birthday.

Pairing: Wesker x F!Reader

Word count: 2K

Type: fluff.

Wesker placed the samples with care on the table, starting his day as usual. He’s been spending his last few years, stuck in the lab researching all over again in order to achieve the wanted results. Since Uroborus is a high importance plan, he’s very meticulous about his schedule, respecting every minute precisely. Not a minute early, not a minute late. The only thing that he tries to put outside his schedule is you because he doesn’t like limiting the time he spends with his sweetheart. He cares so much about you that over the years he sees you as his equal, so he plans to inject you with the progenitor virus, a weaker strand because he can’t risk killing you. Because of this, he wants to do it on a special day, but the many opportunities that arrived didn’t fit in his schedule. The greatest gift he ever received was the power he got after breaking the confines of humanity, so he wants you to experience the same joy. Wesker kept thinking about it but he would get distracted by his work, so his present would always be in the planning stage. He doesn’t want to do it suddenly, he wants to introduce the idea slowly to you because he respects your boundaries.

Once you earned his respect, Wesker can be a very carrying partner, human even. He knows every little detail about his sweetheart, from her birthday to what she last ate. It can seem creepy when you put it like this, but this is nothing more than a lover who deeply cares about his partner and seeks to make her happy. Wesker is not the greatest at showing it though because of his work life. He has little to no time to show his affection. He still shows you that he is there for you, but not as much as he wants, making him more frustrated. Sometimes when he comes home from work he is so tired he barely sees you, let alone talk with you. He either collapses on the couch or bed and falls asleep as you talk with him because he is just too exhausted to carry the conversation. This doesn’t sit right with him because he gives all of his attention and energy to his work and doesn’t have any left for the only person that matters to him, making him wonder if it’s all worth it.

The relationship didn’t have a great start, since you expected Albert to be with you at least 8 hours a day but you’re lucky if you catch him once a week. He’s not the type to express himself and constantly expects others to read his mind, so you two would end up fighting. You have mistaken the lack of presence as rudeness and indifference, basing your reasoning on all the rumors you heard until you realized they were all stupid. Wesker proved to be the contrary, talking so nicely to you and not belittling you at all even if you piss him off. The amount of respect this man offered you even from the beginning is astonishing. He was so transparent with you and with all he does and he had so much patience until you understood. He was just a working man with probably burnout syndrome, so you took the responsibility to take care of him.

His phone buzzed since he started his work. Calls, messages, idiots without brains, as he calls them, needed help doing their job. When he had enough he picked up his phone and started to scroll down through notifications. Some of these people make him curse like a sailor, especially the one who texted him the most. As useful as Excella is in helping with his projects, as annoying she can be. Hundreds of messages and calls, some related to work some not. A particular question caught his attention.

“Do you think y/n would like this?” A picture of a purse was attached. Excella can’t stand you for obvious reasons, but out of respect for Albert, she tries to be friends with you. Still, why would Excella buy something for you out of the blue?

“Is something special today?” He thought.

The horrifying grimace when the realization hit cannot be described. Today is indeed a special day, your birthday. To be honest, he doesn’t care about birthdays. He despises them because they are a reminder of our mortality, but he knows how much you care about such occasions. Every year you got him something even if he insisted not to buy anything for him. Seeing you care and how much you enjoy receiving gifts he changed his mindset. Usually, he would give you something common, just as others would, but then he began to put more effort until there wasn’t anything material in this world to give. That’s how the progenitor virus gift arises in his head. However, he’s been so caught up with his research on Uroborus that he completely forgot to make the preparations. You don’t feel the days pass when you’re stuck in a lab all the time. He puts the phone aside, grabs his coat, and rushes out of the building ignoring the people that are trying to talk with him. If not the virus, he will have to find something common.

He’s not a fan of last minutes gifts but he has no choice. The guilt crushed him further as he remember he hasn’t talked with you all day. The ride to the jewels store felt like ages, even if it was relatively close. Luck was on his side since he found the store open.

None of the jewelry in front of him caught his attention because it wasn’t something he hopes of giving you. He already buried you in gold. You have the finest, unique, and expensive jewels in the world. He wouldn’t have been injected you in a lab of course. He wanted a special place for your rebirth. All of his ideas were put on paper, but probably got lost in the pile of reports. All he wanted was to see you smile on the most important day of your life, perhaps looking at him with the same eyes as his. He wanted to make you feel as you were the center of his universe, his queen, but he failed miserably. Maybe if he had gotten any outstanding results today he wouldn’t be so upset, but it was just another ordinary day. The lady tried talking with him but he was lost in his thoughts. Knowing it’s late and that you’re waiting for him, he bought a pearl necklace and left in hurry. On his way home he tried thinking of what to say, what excuse would be the best but he concluded that all of them were outdated.

Before opening the door, he hid the small package in the inner pocket of his coat. That lady was in hurry to close the store and didn't want to wrap the necklace if gift wrap. Wesker will remember that.

“I’m home!” He shouted once he entered. He may screw up, but he is not a man who runs away from conflict or a man who doesn’t own his mistakes.

“I thought you’d spend the night in your lab.” She said while giving him a peck on his cheek. “You need a vacation dear, you’ll be worn out before your time”

You were so carrying with him, so kind, but he couldn’t enjoy it. He didn’t deserve your kindness.

“There is something I need to tell you.”

“About?” You were starting to get worried. He left in hurry this morning and you didn’t hear anything from him all day. Excella told you briefly about him, but she talked more about the purse she bought for you which was more for her taste, not yours. Judging by his face you realized he had something on his mind, but you would never think it was because he forgot about your birthday. You expected him to talk about an outbreak rather than your forgotten birthday. To your surprise, he started apologizing.

“I was so caught up in my work I-“ he considers apologies a waste of time since we could do better things with our mortality and limited time, but for a reason, humans care about these.

“It’s alright my love.” You caress his face as a reassuring sign. “I understand.” You’re not upset at him. He genuinely cares about you and you can’t judge him, not after all the good things he has done for you. And besides, you know he doesn’t fully mean it, but you appreciate that he still does it for the sake of your feelings.

You began to caress his cheeks, to place small kisses all over his face. You see him rarely so you make sure to show him how much you love him as well. You hug him and he instantly hugged you back. After a while, you broke the hug and lead him to the couch so you can talk about each other’s day. He’s thankful you both moved on.

Eventually, you two got more comfortable. You let all your weight fall over his body as his strong arms were wrapped around your torso. His big hands were caressing your back while you found your peace in that small, almost suffocating, clasp. You almost fell asleep when a gentle squeeze woke you.

“I almost forgot.” He said, almost whispering, before handing you your gift. “It’s not what I had planned, but I hope you’ll find it enjoyable.”

Hazily, you took the small box Albert handled to you. It was a normal, jewelry box with the logo of the store on it. Inside there was a beautiful, shiny pearl necklace. Your delicate fingers touched the pearls with care, feeling their gritty texture and small bumps here and there. It weighs heavy in your hands. You fell in love instantly with the accessory. Seeing how happy you are, Albert offered to put it at your neck. Its elegance enhanced your natural beauty. It looks like it was made solely for you, like an extension of your body.

“I bet it was a lot.” You said with a somehow sorrow in your voice. You don’t want Albert to spend heavy money on you, because it’s his presence that you enjoy and value the most.

“Don’t worry about it, I like spending money on you.” And it was true, he loves dressing you in the most expensive clothing to flatter your body. You’re a goddess to him. Not to mention it strokes his ego to know that he’s able to provide such beautiful things to you. “At least this is what I can do.”

“And it’s perfect this way.” You can see him relax a little.

“I’ll make it up to you, I just need some time.” Time, mortality, death. Once again he was reminded of his plan that was supposed to fix humanity's greatest flaw, and his expression suddenly changed. That didn’t get past Y/N’s attention.

“Albert sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, some problems I need to solve.”

“Are they urgent?”

“Yes, very.”

“I’m sure they can wait until tomorrow.”

He scanned your body carefully. You weren’t getting any younger. Time left its mark on you. Not in an unpleasant way, but still noticeable.

“There something I need to tell you.” He said while sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you how you admire your new necklace. In the lights of the vanity mirror the pearls shine brighter, being more appealing than before making it impossible to take your eyes off them.

“What is it?” You said while gazing at your own reflection.

He choose his words carefully, but no matter how he put them, it could scare you. It’s not the time or the place. He doesn’t want to ruin your happiness. His actual surprise might not sit well with you, but it’s not your choice after all. If he considers it the best option for you he will do it regardless of your opinion. Still, this day came out better than he expected.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

Tags: @xx-sectumsempra-xx @residentzero2028 @heisentitties (dm if you wanna be in the tag list)

#resident evil #albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker fluff #commission #albert wesker x fem!reader

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petite-ely · 3 years

Text

Afraid // JJ Maybank

Seven- Mommy Issues

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: mommy issues, mother abandonment, anger, maybe some mistakes, tell me if I missed anything

Description: y/n has always wanted answers about her mother, but the truth seems more harsh than what she had in mind.

A/n : hello, hello friends. Sorry for not updating sooner. I had absolutely no inspiration, lol. Anyways, hope you enjoyyyy! :) (also I know the gif is terrible quality but I really wanted to put this clip and I couldn’t find any cleaner option to make a gif)

Previously

Afraid Masterlist

Song recommendation

Gif made by me!

As a child, y/n never realized how her family was different than the others. A lot of kids on the cut had single parents, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Her mom had left when she was only three, to go pursue her dream job in Colorado. It wasn’t a bad thing in the girl’s eyes. It didn’t feel like she was missing out on anything.

As she blossomed into adolescence, y/n finally understood how unconventional her family was. She heard the other girls at her school talk about their mothers. About the cakes they made or the precious moments they spent together. Mother-daughter bonding moments. She had to admit it she felt jealous. Or maybe was it envious?

She had lived all her life without a mother to kiss her scraped knees or braid her hair before going to sleep. And she would have given anything to experience it, even for one single night.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love her brother or her father, far from it, she adored them. They were both so precious to her. Still, she felt as if something was missing from her. Or more like someone.

She didn’t remember her mother, she was so young at the time, but she cherished the stories her father had told her. She fed her imagination on these stories. Making up fake memories where her mother was still there. In her heart it was all real. Reality was bitter compared to the sweet comfort of her imagination.

By the time she was 12, she’d heard the famous story enough to know it by heart, each word of the letter engraved into her head. She begged her father again and again. She wanted more stories, even the smallest anecdotes, she wanted to hear them all. Anything to improve the sketch, constantly redrawn, of the woman she didn’t remember. The woman she couldn’t really call a mother.

She knew the story by heart and yet it felt incomplete. She’d heard enough fairytales and read enough books to know when a story was complete. This one wasn’t.

And she was right.

A week after the twins’s 13th birthday, their dad gathered them around the kitchen table. He wanted to talk. It was very important. Y/n had to admit, this was quite strange, as her father was never the one to bring up important issues. In front of him was placed an envelope, yellowed with the years.

The girl knew this envelope all too well. Every scratch, every little bump, she could almost feel them on the tip of her fingers. It was her mother’s letter. This time, when he pulled out the folded pages, a third paper came out. The missing part.

Big John didn’t say anything, only slid the pearl white sheet to the twins. And though no words came out of his mouth, a million could be seen in his gaze. He wore an unfamiliar expression on his face. It was mix of sadness, fear and regrets. It was the expression of a man who only wanted to protect his children from being hurt.

The missing paper read as so:

“This is my dream, John.

And I know you might think there’s a way for us to fix this, but there isn’t. This time you can’t fix it.

When I got pregnant with the kids, I was so scared. And when I told you, I saw this glimmer in your eyes. This flame suddenly being lit inside of you. You were so excited to have your first child and it was twins! You seemed so happy. It was beautiful.

Then I thought that maybe we could do this, maybe I could be a mother. I had you, so everything would be fine. My friends kept talking about this amazing connection that felt with their babies when they were carrying them. But I never felt it with the twins.

And I thought that maybe once I held them in my arms I would finally feel it. That motherly connection. It never came. And I tried, John. I tried so hard. But I just can’t.

I do love them, I love them so much, but not the way you do. Not the way a parent loves their child It can’t do it, I’m sorry. I wasn’t meant to be a mother. Life is cruel that way sometimes.

If there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that you were meant for this. I can see it in the way you look at them. You can do this, John. I know.

Be the parent I will never be able to be.”

Y/n’s curious eyes scanned the paper excitedly. Her face showed a variety of emotions in the span of a few minutes. First, excitement and joy, then, confusion and finally, anger. The tip of her ears burned red, her hand shaking beneath the table.

John B. placed the paper on the table, a loud sigh escaping his lips. Though, compared to his sister, he seemed relatively calm.

Y/n couldn’t contain it anymore. She stormed out of the house, her feet shoeless and her shoulders bare. She had no idea where she was going, but she ran.

It didn’t matter. As long as she was going somewhere. As long as she was moving and running, then she wouldn’t have to think. And if she was thinking, then her mind would take her to a bad place. She didn’t want to go there. So she ran.

The Routledges were never reputed to be angry people, much less violent. They were generally very calm, maybe a bit arrogant, but always composed. Of course, when a Routledge was after something, they would do anything in order to obtain it.

But y/n was one of the exception. She was the first Routledge woman in nearly 150 years. For generations, every Routledge man had sons, who had sons, who had sons until her father. He had a son and a daughter.

She wasn’t an angry person or mean in any way. On the contrary, she was kind and gentle. But compared to her brother and her dad, she felt emotions deeply.

And maybe it was her mother’s side and not the Routledge in her. It was so intense, sometimes. Almost blinding, at some moments. It was like the emotions took over her. It didn’t happen very often but it felt like she didn’t control her body anymore.

When she finally came back to her senses, y/n was standing on an empty beach. She hadn’t realized how far she’d gotten until she felt the warm sand under her feet. A cold breeze wrapped itself around her shoulders. She was so far from home. And so alone.

She walked to the ocean, letting her toes dip gently into the water. The water was cold but calming. Her anger slowly disappeared with each breath she took, until finally she could see everything clearly again.

Y/n turned away. She thought of going back home, when a wave of emotions hit her. She fell to the ground. It was like the air had been sucked out of her lungs.

Her chest burned, she felt like she had swallowed fire. Her shoulders shook and loud sobs escaped her lips. She dug her hands into the sand, trying to ground herself. It didn’t stop her tears from crashing onto her shirt.

A shadow appeared in front of her and she recognized its shape in a matter of seconds. It could only be one person.

“Are you hear to laugh at me?” She said through tears.

“No, not this time,” said John B. He sat down beside her, his eyes looking into hers. “Oh, y/n.” He wiped the tears off of her face

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “It’s just that, that,” he placed his arm around her shoulder, she took a deep breath. “Part of me always thought that she would come back.”

“That she’d come stay with us and finally be our mom. But she’s never coming back, ever,” her tone was almost accusing. “I lost so much time making up scenarios for her and she doesn’t even love us.”

“You know that’s not true,” reasoned John.

“Yeah, but it feels like it.”

“We don’t need her anyway,” stated the boy. “We’ve got dad, surfing, plenty of fish and well, each other. It’s not that bad is it?”

“No, you’re right.” She looked at him. “I just feel like I’m missing out on something. Like I’m,” she paused, looking for the right word, “incomplete.”

“I get it. If the roles were reversed and dad wasn’t there, I guess I would feel that way too,” confided her brother. “But don’t give her this much power. She doesn’t get to make you feel this way. You’re whole on your own, y/n/n.”

“Thank you, bird.” She slid her arm around his shoulder, letting her head rest on top of it. “You know, you can be an amazing brother sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Hey, bird?” “Yeah?”

“How did you find me, anyway?”

“You always come here when you wanna be dramatic.”

“I do not!”

“You so do!”

And slowly, the imaginary memories fell apart and disappeared. Y/n didn’t need them anymore. She’d be better in the real world.

Taglist

@kaelyn-lobrutto24 @poguestyle17 @im-a-stranger-thing @lasnaro @thoughtsofthestars @briandaflores19 @lunaposey @allycat449-blog @ifilwtmfc @kitty084 @coloradogirl07 @ponyboys-sunsets @chaoticbisous @p0gue420 @sloaneemily @babygal-babygal @itsagurl @mendesmaybank

If you wanna be added or removed or if I forgot you, tell me and it’ll be modified!

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bookofmirth · 3 years

Note

ok so this might come off as a bit rambly so please bear with me lol

i've noticed that the acotar fandom has this incessant need to be right when it comes to canon and it really sucks out the funness of fandom. shipping is supposed to be fun but when it comes to this fandom, it's almost like a competition to see who will be more right when the books come out. engaging with theories/predictions about characters and the plot is supposed to be exciting but when it comes to this fandom, some of the theories/predictions are problematic at worst and nonsensical at best. like how can you say with your full chest that you're so confident about where the series is heading in the future because of this or that theory when you're stuck in the past and refuse to see what all of the text is telling you in the present. it doesn't make sense. the selective reading is so strong that it has me looking sideways sometimes lol

i guess my question is why do you think the fandom is so divided when it comes to ships right now? i've seen people say this wasn't the case for feysand and nessian, so what's the difference here?

Oh boy Brielle, I have some thoughts on this. It's complex.

To be clear, I am not saying that this applies to literally every single person who ships a certain way. This is a commentary on the fandom as a whole, and there are always exceptions.

This got really, really long, so I'm putting it under the cut.

I think that one of the main draws of this series, and of sjm's writing in general, is her ships. I think that people get very, very attached to their ships.

I also think that sjm does NOT fully think through some of the choices that she makes when writing. See: the way that she takes from all these different cultures and mashes them together, which could be seen as disrespectful of their origin. She has retconned things, like Mor being queer and Lucien being Helion's son. I think that she thoroughly thinks about some of the aspects of her books, like Rhys's reaction to sleeping with Feyre for the first time, but then really half-asses other aspects of her books, like Mor coming out.

Then, we have your good old misogyny and homophobia - people in the fandom don't like Mor because she hurt the poor bat boy's feelings when she didn't sleep with him, and they don't have a mating bond, but she's never really told Azriel "no", and so every single moment of pain that Azriel has felt in 500 years is Morrigan's fault. And Mor's experience as a closeted queer woman who feels unsafe around the people she should trust the most is completely disregarded by the fandom.

Finally, I think that a combination of these factors has created the monster we know as e*riel, and that the fandom is perpetuating its own mythology.

What all of this comes down to, and the real reason I think that the fandom is behaving this way right now, is that e*riel is dead. It's never happened, it's not going to happen, but because we don't have the clear closure we got with moriel (where people would be accused of homophobia for continuing to ship it), people are still trying to figure out any possible way for e*riel to become canon, though every single sign points to it being a non-issue.

This weird thing where people have to be "right" all the time, and the way that "right" = "canon" is a relatively new development. It's as if everyone in this fandom forgot that they are in fact in a fandom, which inherently diverges from canon.

However, I think that the need to cling to canon is because the alternative would be to admit defeat and say "well, even if it doesn't happen I will still ship e*riel, it's fine, I will live with that." But they don't want to do that. In response, they look at canon so hard that they are reading the white space between the letters to create their theories, which as you noted as largely nonsensical and often fail to take into account who the characters are as individuals, how they are connected to other characters, and why it would or wouldn't be appropriate for them to be involved in various plots.

People could say, as eluciens having been saying since day one, "I really ship this thing but I can see that it might not become canon". But they don't say that. They literally refuse to see any other possibility than e*riel becoming canon.

You pointed out that people are stuck in the past - absolutely. The number of reimaginings I have seen of scenes where either Azriel or Elain has literally zero to do with the scene, but people try to shove one or both of them in there. And this from books ago. People are stuck on the Truthteller scene, and refuse to acknowledge that neither of them have acted on their feelings, whatever those might be, for years. And they ignore the fact that once Elain and Az do act, it goes horribly wrong.

Here are the facts as of right now:

ACOSF is the most recent book. In that book, sans extra chapter, those two had no interaction other than looking at one another.

If we include his POV, then he said it was wrong, we got confirmation that nothing has ever happened between them, she returned his necklace. Elain was aroused, but that does not mean she was ready to even have sex. "Yes" to a kiss is not "yes" to every single sexual act Az can think of. They parted on awkward, bad terms after a scene in which it seemed like they were about to start something. Yikes. Unlike Wings and Embers, they did not end that chapter still thinking of one another. After they part ways, the omniscient narrator does not mention Elain, or Az thinking about Elain, again.

His POV occurs months before the end of the book. They do not interact after that.

Elain has a mate she has not rejected, nor accepted.

So anyway, your question was why are people like this. lol. I think the fandom created a monster, and that monster is clinging to life. It can't accept the idea of morphing into a non-canon ship, though it never was canon in the first place. It had just convinced itself that it was.

There are other aspects to this, that have to do with gwynriel and elucien.

Gwynriel is a new ship, it's almost guaranteed to happen, people are super excited to ship it and give Gwyn all their love. I'm sure they would rather create content for that ship than argue about whether or not it's going to be canon, but they are in constant defense mode. Some people honestly didn't like e*riel before because they don't like Elain, or because they don't like Azriel, and those are valid reasons for not liking it. Why people ship gwynriel doesn't matter. The tone of the discussion is, unfortunately, being shaped elsewhere, which I will mention below.

Elucien is an old ship, older than e*riel. I can speak from this perspective - personally, I have been holding my tongue for 4.5 years. I have been letting people live, and just talking about the things I like. Then when acosf came out, it was like I could finally say all the things I had been thinking about Azriel, because I now had proof that the things I thought about his character (and because of that, about e*riel) now had solid canon foundation. This is 4.5 years of me holding in a lot of shit and finally being able to say it. Sometimes yes, I might take joy in having been right.

I think that a few people are clinging to canon, and that sets the tone for the discourse in the fandom. Someone says "according to page whatever, blah blah blah" and people feel the need to respond, and then it turns into and "I'm right" contest instead of... a fandom... A lot of us like debating. To me, it's fun. But when Person A starts a conversation that's about canon and it actually ignores canon, it's hard to let that conversation go by and just keep creating whatever we want to create. Instead, we respond, and so the tone of the conversation is shaped by what Person A decided to say.

I also think that there is a lack of distinction between theories (what will happen in the future) and meta (analysis of what we have now).

There is also a lack of "I" statements. Opinions are being stated as fact.

idk if there is a way to make it better, other than to just go back to ignoring one another. This whole situation makes me want to throw out every single canon ship I like and create exclusively non-canon content, just for spite. Except I really like doing meta, and so I don't want to. I guess for my point, I'll just keep doing meta, keep creating different content, and keep reminding people that they aren't here to continue perpetuating canon, but to play with it.

#ask #gimme-mor #acotar #antielriel #gwynriel #elucien #acotar fandom #fandom things #fandom history

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nectarous · 3 years

Text

TOOTHSOME ⇋ OJIRO ARAN X F!READER.

TAGS: strangers to soulmates. suggestive themes [no smut]. constant changes of pov. slowburn fluff with angst ending.

W/C: 3.3K

SUMMARY: a simple study of intimate bonds and tasting love.

⇦ SEWER SOULMATE SYNDROME COLLAB MASTERLIST ♡

there’s something about the world that’s absolutely and wholly dull. waking up to blistering rays glaring through open windows, working at a lackluster club, coming home to your barebones apartment that you’ve never bothered decorating. you only look forward to collapsing into a steaming bath, dreading the fact you’ll have to repeat this all over again once the sun starts to peek up from the horizon.

it’s what’s deserving of such an uninspiring, miserable personality. you’re not interested in much outside of the bubble you crafted. you’re indifferent to the fickle things; love, bonds, and that mouthful of flavor when you meet your soulmate for the first time. it doesn’t interest you in any capacity.

you know that there’s a lot to be desired with you. your people skills need tinkering and while your work ethics are respectable enough, all you can think to describe yourself is boring.

you’re interested in surviving and supporting yourself. living long enough to enjoy yourself, but short enough to not have to work hard—you’ve never been interested in the company and passing affections of others.

the idea of a soulmate is a delicate one to some, daft to others. you’re more indifferent on the topic, leaning closer to disdain, about the idea of a fated second half.

how naïve you are for thinking that you’re lucky enough to escape it, unaware that in a short twelve months, it’ll only take one stranger to ruin your perception of love, of the world, of yourself.

just like everyone else, you’ve been taught about soulmates, raised around the idea that finding them would finally open you up. from an outsider's perspective, you understand how they work, how they feel. you’ve spotted that glazed over look in their eyes more times than you care to count. you’ve witnessed soulmates bumping into each other for the first time, seen how eyes light up, and heard the crashing of heart beats from across rooms. you swore you could hear them salivate at the taste of each other’s presence.

you’re certain that’s something you’ll never experience. you hope you’ll never meet them, hope that they're dead or far away in some other continent, or that they’re as much as a homebody as you are. you covet to be in the majority that never meet their soulmate, and have to settle for yourself and

you’ve made it this far alone. why bother searching for your other half now?

• • •

even at 27, aran’s still hopeful he’ll find the person he’s supposed to spend his life with. it’s a silly little fantasy, one that has settled deep in his core, meeting the love of his life and instinctively knowing. all through his teenage years, he’s been teased for being a hopeless romantic. but who could blame him? what’s more serene, more absolute than the idea of finding the person who will love you for who you are, for the rest of your life?

his romanticism has mellowed out over the years, and he’s become a reasonable man with a successful career and lifelong friends and a dog he spends a fortune on every month. he’ll let life take its course, pray for the best, and continue on.

everyone has a soulmate. he hopes it’s only a matter of time before he meets his. but it’s not a necessity for him.

• • •

the first time you see him, your soulmate, is outside some onigiri shop, bathed in the purple shadows of sunset. you instantly turn the other way, stumbling into some random convenience store and ignoring that lightheadedness, and the urge to gag at the rich flavor soaking into your mouth, hoping he doesn’t feel your proximity.

all of a sudden, you’re not that hungry anymore.

• • •

aran feels it. his knees grow weak, his heart swells twice as big, there’s a pressure in his sinuses that almost has him stumbling back. and then that feeling’s gone. when he looks around, no ones there, but the residual feelings still linger.

this is the taste of aran’s soulmate. he always expected love to taste like bubblegum or the strawberry mochi he used to split with his sister. he expected to savor the color pink, or red, delicate colors that remind him of spring and joy.

instead, there’s a bitter, heavy metallic soaking into his mouth; like antimony and lemon rinds. it clashes against his taste buds causing his face to scrunch up in distaste.

it tastes like gray.

• • •

the overwhelming taste in your mouth is pastel green, tooth-decaying sweet, and tart. it drips down your throat, makes your gums and your heart ache and throb. it feels like you’re going to choke right here, in the snack section of a convenience store.

granny smiths, heavy molasses and acerbic echoes of sumac sticks to the insides of your cheeks. the emotions so saturated it starts to burrow deep in your teeth.

you hate how warm it makes you feel.

• • •

you recognize him immediately when you’re flicking through the channels waiting for your dinner to reheat. of course the universe decides to pair you up with a fucking olympic volleyball player with amazing things going for him. you can’t change the channel, can’t ignore that he looks a little too good panting and covered in sweat. his voice rumbles smooth, his eyes glimmer, his quiet chuckle makes you throb.

you’ve been laying in bed and trying to push out the sneaking thoughts of him, trying to erase the green flavor that creeps back in ever since.

it’s been two weeks since you’ve been anywhere near that shop. the fear that you’ll bump into him again is… overwhelming. but you’re exhausted, working through the day for the second time this week. and of course, you forgot your umbrella at home, forcing you to run through the muggy rain in a ratty shirt and soggy sneakers.

you told yourself you’d take the long way home, but now that cutting through this block will get you out of the rain faster, knowing it’ll get you back home in time to catch that cooking show while you take a bath, tempts you too much.

but of course, nothing that life hands you seems to go your way.

and of course he’s out there again. out of all days. you hope he’s not some mindless sap that waits outside of the shop everyday, aching for the chance to bump into his soulmate and live happily ever after. that might be the only thing that would make this soulmate bond even more painful.

you really should’ve just gone the long way home.

he looks happy and, you begrudgingly admit to yourself as you wait for the crosswalk to turn green, even more handsome than on your tv. big. he’s on the phone, protected from the rain under the shop’s awning. the taste of green’s already oozing it’s way back in.

apparently, that perspective ability you admired while watching one of his first matches bleeds outside the court too, because he immediately makes eye contact with you. eyes widen, he hangs up immediately, and his hand raises in a wave.

and the first thing you can do is run.

• • •

he can sense that his soulmate’s near, that sharp tinny taste overpowering the onigiri osamu forced him to finish. it has his nose crinkling up before he whips his head up, staring at a girl. his heart soars a bit, finally he gets to meet you, before crashing down upon seeing that expression of horror on your dripping face, before you trip your way into some alley. he doesn’t second guess running into the sheets of rain, not hesitating at the sudden chill of rain.

he can tell that you’re scared, terrified, disgusted at the idea of having a soulmate. is it because of him?

the taste of each other is overwhelming, gunmetal grating and foiled and loud crashing into his. can barely swallow it down, eyes rolling back.

you can’t handle the onslaught of pungent syrupy sour, it’s soaking into your head more than the rain. it makes you hunched over and soaked, retching bile and the remnants of breakfast, you want to die.

you want to tell him to fuck off, let you drown in apples, in the vomit and the rain, but he’s insistent. he keeps a polite distance, a safe distance, from you. arms flex in his soaking pale t-shirt while he looks at you like some kind of wounded, rabid animal.

“let’s get you warmed up, ok?”

that tart taste eats away at the rancid bile in your mouth, and you hate to admit that his charcoal eyes start to slowly thaw you.

you’re a mess of chattering teeth, goose pimpled skin. your nipples are poking stiff peaks into your shirt and your fingers are shaking, but he politely ignores both, stepping over the puddle of vomit to pick up your dropped bag, hot hand on the small of your back as he leads you in through the back entrance of the onigiri shop.

two identical faces, the only thing separating them is the shock of pale blond hair, are watching you from a distance as aran presses soft cotton into your arms and leads you into the locker room. they both feign boredom as you shuffle by them, but even in your bleak state, you can’t ignore that interested glimmer in their eyes from behind the register.

the sound of slopping clothes dropping against the cold tile makes your skin crawl, your eyes sting, and your head ache like it was just banged into the concrete. you don’t know whether to be humiliated or thankful, unsettled or grateful that ojiro aran’s actually nice. such a simple word. just these last 10 minutes has proved his heart of gold and, as you tread back into the main room, you think you’re going to cry.

no one talks as you collapse and curl up on one of the farthest seats, as you start to lose yourself in the sounds of thunder and the stifled radio, the cold bleeding it’s way into your brain. you can start to feel yourself dissociating, vision starting to blur, losing yourself in the numb.

the delicate placing of six onigiri snaps you out of it, aran’s look of concern makes you curve over your knees as you drag the plate closer. his eyes tickle at your soul, baring deep into your bones, as if he can see how much you're hurting, how much you don’t care. compared to him, you look like a drenched rat, hair still damp and feet bare.

you really might cry.

because it hurts. the thought that he’d treat you good like this, every day, for the rest of his life. you can tell he’s kind, the way he sets down a cup of tea and brings you some food. the way he offers you a change of clothes. he’s a gentleman, and you feel pity for him, that he’s attached to you.

the tilt of your lips in gratitude probably translates more as a grimace than a smile.

he waits until after you finish eating to start talking, “i’m ojiro aran.”

“i know,” you respond back. “that volleyball player.”

your droning voice doesn’t make him flinch back as you hope.

“i hope i’m not overstepping, but i can tell that you’re not the happiest with — ” finally he hesitates, flicking the sugar packets, eyes tracing over your face. you make it a point to not return the eye contact.

“look. i’m not sure if it’s because of me, or you’re not happy with the idea of soulmates in general.” he overlooks the way your fingers twitch around your mug. “and i’m not going to force you to do anything, because i can tell that you’re on edge right now.”

he lowers himself so he’s not towering over you, balancing on his toes, still toying with the condiments on your table.

“to tell you the truth, i’m a bit of a romantic,” something sweet starts slipping into his voice. “i can tell that you aren’t. we don’t have to rush into anything, say the word and we can forget we ever met. but i think this can work out. we just need to pace to our comfort levels.”

and as you stare into his eyes, him squatting in front of you and holding your still shaking hands, the utter care, eyes almost pleading, and a soft smile that he’s emitting, it makes you feel peace for the first time. the stains of melancholy in your bones start to fade, and pastel green leaks from the sides of your cheeks making the corners of your lips involuntarily twitch up.

maybe, just maybe this’ll work out.

• • •

it’s been months, and aran’s learnt more about you than you know. he’s picked up that you despise physical affection just as much as the rain, but that you crave the heat from his body.

he thinks about you constantly. he replays your ‘dates that aren’t dates’ on repeat at practice, printing your face in his head on his morning runs, and he welcomes that metallic bitter that comes with you before he goes to sleep.

you’re standoffishness is soft and appealing at first glance, like antimony you taste like. the more time he’s in your presence, the more that lack of intimacy burns at his eyes, and his lungs. his hands sting with rejection every time you inch and shrug away from his touch or grimace when he laughs at your half-jokes. he knows there’s a separate woman bedded underneath. he saw her at the restaurant, he sees it whenever you watch the sunset. he notices it most behind the closed doors of his apartment.

he’s come to appreciate your hands. your hands convey the things you’re too nervous to say. he can feel the adoration pulsing underneath the fragile skin in your fingers and your wrists, whispering the things you can’t always say out loud. they speak to your sense of comfort with him, the vulnerability you only show with him. the way they sneak under his shirt to run down his smooth back when you're cold, only to pull back and hope he didn’t catch your slip up.

he notices the chipped polish that you pick at when you're stressed over deadlines. how your hands shrink in comparison to every part of him, tracing the callouses and scars from decades worth of volleyball. he loves how you bring his hands up to kiss on his knuckles after hours in bed, before you make up excuses as to why you can’t spend the night.

much to your annoyance, it makes him want to try that much harder.

• • •

love. a complicated, sinister, four letter word you never thought you were built for. you think about it a lot, in tandem with aran. probably too much to be healthy. he’s the first thing you think of when you wake up, plaguing your mind as you work, and leaving you always wondering what time he goes to sleep.

it's embarrassing. the three hours you spend with him every weekend has turned you into some sort of sap, haunted with his musky scent, that soft smile and that embarrassing craving for him to pat your head again. like your some fucking puppy. and you swear, that syrupy green apple taste is stained into your taste buds, it’s seeped into your bones and ruined you.

the last thing he deserves is you. you know that. but he doesn’t think that, he’s letting that metallic taste run him around lovesick. he makes you feel blistered; every touch and adoring glance burns into your flesh in permanent, achy reminders. he has your number, knows where you live. but he respects you and the distance you’ve placed.

he’s getting too comfortable too quickly, and he keeps surprising you with how patient he is. he’s adaptive, tenderhearted, almost philanthropic with the way he took in the charity case of you.

it didn’t pan out the way you expected the first few months. you expected failure, for him to snap at your constant rejections and complaints. apparently, experiences with his childhood friends prepared him for you.

he's too helpful of a person, wanting to talk about feelings and cooking you food when you didn’t ask for it. it scared you, how fast he accepted this soulmate thing, how fast he was able to care. his hugs lasted too long. he's suffocating you in adoration and care, and you can tell he’s almost to the point of being in love with you.

poor aran. you’ve been destined to be with this man, who’s been destined to be alone since birth, all because the universe promised you to him.

you know you’re going to destroy this beautiful bond that the universe crafted. you’re bitter and mean and unable to open yourself up to him; he almost knows nothing about you, and you know almost everything about him. you know how his younger sister wants to become a physical therapist, how the owner of that little onigiri shop has been one of his best friends for almost two decades. and you know his favorite food’s ritz crackers, that he’s a morning person. he loves dogs and hates horror films, and his two greatest joys are his family and volleyball.

there’s an unspoken hint that he wants you to join the former.

and it’s unfair; who wouldn’t fall in love with that scar on his neck. you try to focus on his bad parts, of which he only has one. his stupid dog, adzuki. that mammoth of a german sheperd that follows you around, places it’s paws on your lap when you come over for dinner.

he laughs every time you grimace at him, looks like we both have a weak spot for you.

• • •

you shatter his heart on the first year anniversary since you’ve been bonded. you were already dangling by a heart string, and that little band of gold and red he gifts you is where you force yourself to draw the line.

all you can think about is how you need to abandon him before either of you get too attached. you’re teetering on the edge of ignoring your gut instincts, of collapsing into him, wanting to let him see the shattered pieces inside you. but then he’ll do something as mundane as calling you over for dinner, and you remember.

he terrifies you.

there’s a reason you haven’t spent the night again. the intimacy of you and him, and his ugly dog, and that picture frame of your date at the beach hung right next to one of his family portraits.

he loves too much and too hard, he’s too intense. he makes your skin prickle in hot fireworks, the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight with unease. he’s beautifully passionate about everything he lays his eyes on. he lives life to the fullest and all of a sudden, you want that too. he makes you crave domesticity, waking up next to warm umber hands tracing patterns in your skin, cooking breakfast together, a house in tokyo. a wedding band on your finger.

this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

you remember the dulling of gray eyes, and his hunched over figure bathed in the ashy violet rays of the sun setting. you try to hold onto that flavor of green before you swallow it for the last time, saliva and tears welling up, before you press one last kiss on his cheek before stepping out. pastel green fades to emerald fades to black. you can’t taste apples or sumac anymore.

no, as much as you wanted to be, you weren’t built for love.

#aran x reader #aran fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu!! x reader #soulmate collab #aran #collabee <3 #this is my 1000th post... im leaving #ty sm to lee + emi for editing my 3am ramblings :*#and 2 annie for hosting the collab wooo

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k-comfyspace · 3 years

Text

Moment

Star: Jeon Heejin, Kim Hyunjin (Loona)

Idea: No

A bond stronger than anything in the world meant for the two people that were destined, but what if the world gave you something unexpected, something better than what was already happening➶?

A/n: It was a random idea I had in my head, hope it’s not too much of a stretch😂

They believe that when the earth was created, there was a myth that something had its own pair: the clouds with the sky, the moon with the stars, and the trees with the flowers.

This often applied to the people who lived on this planet, two people who were destined to stay together and were connected by an unbreakable connection.

Where one day you will meet your other half and you will love each other until the end of time.

A bond stronger than existence itself because you are both linked in every way, or Soulmates.

It was a concept that appeared difficult to believe, rumors that they were supposed to be with each other and that they could feel each other's physical sensations.

Everyone dismissed it at first, saying it was impossible and false, before they found it themselves a few years later and were proven wrong. Which continued for years until it became widespread.

That everyone would find their true love, the one with whom they would spend the remaining days with.

You waited in line, clutching your book as a small smile made it to your features before taking a seat in front of the first girl, "Hi, what’s your name?" You handed her the book, watching as she flipped to the page she was supposed to be writing on,

"Y/n," you replied, watching as the younger girl raised her head to look at you, eyes scanning before she asked, "Y/n? Is that you?"

"You shouldn’t really be asking your fans such questions, Hyejoo," you replied playfully, your voice teasing as the girl showed you a bright smile, "It’s been a while. How are you?" she asked, scribbling down on the book while you hummed,

"Been super busy lately, thankfully I had some free time to come here," Hyejoo grinned at you and slid the album back to you as you moved to the next person who seemed to be as happy when she heard you talking to her member.

"Wow, it’s been such a long time, Y/n," you giggled at the younger woman’s comment as she scribbled your name without asking,

“You girls assume too much. What if it’s just a coincidence? There are a lot of people named Y/n in the world," Chaewon laughed at your comment as she handed you the album,

"There are, but there’s only one Y/n that would talk to us like that," she said before the staff asked you to move over, throwing a playful glare at her jab.

"Hi, how are you, what’s your name?" The energetic girl came next, making you giggle when she didn’t seem to hear your conversation with the woman before her,

"Y/n, I'm fine, thank you," you replied, watching Jiwoo nod and write your name. "Your name is Y/n too? We know someone named Y/n," she replied, writing her signature on the bottom and handing you the album, "Really, you should introduce me sometime,"

You said, making the girl meet your eyes when she found a little familiarity in your voice,

"Y/n-ah?" You smiled behind your mask, nodding in confirmation before hearing the girl squeal, smiling brightly as she took your hands in hers, shaking them excitedly as you tried to match her energy,

"We missed you so much!" You squeezed her hands in response. As the manager asked you to move, you smiled at Jiwoo and moved on.

As the fan sign continued, the rest of the members showed their smiles and didn’t hide their excitement when they met you.

Most of the fans just thought that it was normal since they repeatedly said in most of their lives that they missed orbits so much. When you arrived in front of Haseul, you signaled for the girl to be quiet, motioning to the two members who were playing with each other, the older girl nodding as she smiled.

You gave Haseul your eye smile, squeezing her hand as she held it before moving to the side where Hyunjin turned to smile at you, yet to recognize who you were when she asked for your album,

"Hello, what's your name?" she asked, flipping through the pages before stopping at her picture, "Y/n," you answered seeing the small smile on her face before she nodded scribbling down your name and a small smile.

Though before you moved to the last member, you pulled something beside you, lifting the paper bag and handing her the plushie inside. Hyunjin giggled when you pulled out the bread plushie.

Taking it in her hands and embracing it, you pulled down your mask a little, calling the busy cat as she squished it in her hands. Hyunjin glanced up, her eyes going wide when you showed her your smile,

"Y/n?" Your name being familiar to Heejin’s ears, caused her to turn, seeing your face before you covered it back up again.

The bright smile that overcame both of their faces was satisfying to see, "It is you! How have you been?" she asked, but before you could answer, the manager was already telling you to move, giving the cat an apologetic gaze when you saw her pout, so you told her instead, "Let’s meet up when you’re free."

Moving to Heejin, the bunny took your album and finished it quickly, wanting to talk to you as you gave her your present. Like Hyunjin, you gave Heejin the exact same plushie, adoring the look that she had when you showed it to her.

Holding out her hands, Heejin held yours in hers, smiling when she saw your eye smile, imagining your smile behind your mask before you eventually stepped off the stage, back to your seat.

You’ve been friends with the girls for about a year now, having known Heejin when she was training and being classmates with Yerim made the two of you become closer again until before you knew it, you were friends with her whole group.

You were the hidden member as they liked to call you, always hanging out in their dorm and acting like you were living with them for years.

Though you were particularly close to the first and second members, they still treated you like their long lost sister. Along with that, you were relieved to have people that didn’t always pester you about your life, constantly asking you about whether you’ve found your soulmate, or if you have plans on finding them.

You were getting sick of it, but when you met them, even if they each had their own, they never once asked, never brought it up.

Though they teased you by being so lovey-dovey, you didn't mind because you knew it was all in good fun, and they weren't trying to show you something that would make you feel pressured or sad.

In fact, they gave you an opening to tease them back, giving them a pinch on the arm, or purposely pinching their cheeks too hard, which you knew both would feel. It was like getting two birds with one stone.

"Thank you everyone, this has been Loona!"

You clapped for the girls as they each left the stage, sending their fans hearts and smiles before everyone left soon after.

It took Heejin and Hyunjin a couple of days to text you asking if you were free to head down to the dorm, which you didn’t deny, washing up before you left. When you arrived, you received hugs from all the girls, expressing their excitement and joy to have you back again,

"Come on, sit, we have a lot to talk about," They sat you on the couch while the rest stayed inside the living room, near the area doing their own things as they conversed with you.

"How long has it been? We haven’t seen you in a while. Has college been treating you that bad?" Haseul asked, attending to the food she was cooking as you hummed,

“It’s been a month or two, college has been getting busier and busier, sorry if I couldn't stop by as much," you answered, all of them turning to look at you with smiles,

"It’s alright, Y/n, it’s not your obligation to stay with us, school is more important," Kahei told you with a laugh bouncing out of your lips at their unintentional matching responses.

The rest of the afternoon you catch up with the girls on what’s been happening for the past month, while you will also share your experience in school with them.

When dinner time came, everyone ate together, laughing like one big family would, continuing the previous conversation that you’ve had.

You offered to wash their dishes after eating, but you knew they'd object, so you had one of them assist you instead, which Heejin did not refuse.

"So how have you been doing?" You asked Heejin, not having had a chance to ask earlier because you were talking to most of the girls in the living room, "We're alright, having a lot more fun, we could finally see orbits again," You smiled at her response, finding it touching that she would still be that cute and caring for her fans even if there were no cameras present.

Continuing to wash the dishes as you talked with Heejin, you felt arms wrap around your body pulling you a little away from the sink. Glancing back, you giggled when you met Hyunjin’s eyes, a small pout on her lips as she looked at you,

"Do you need anything?" You asked, turning back to see Heejin smiling at her partner, moving to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Let’s go buy some bread," she whispered, making you laugh, "We just had dinner!" Hyunjin whined, shaking your torso as she argued, "It’s for later, obviously," You glanced at Heejin, raising your eyebrows at the smile she had,

"Your stock ran out?" you questioned, knowing how much the cat loved bread, there was bound to be an entire closet filled with it, "Oh, we were supposed to buy it yesterday, I forgot," you nodded your head, turning back to Hyunjin,

"We’ll go out later, rest first, then we’ll leave,"

Almost like a baby, the girl nodded, placing a kiss on Heejin’s cheek before sauntering to the living room, a content and happy smile on her face making you and Heejin laugh at her absurdity.

You grabbed your coat when you opened the door, announcing that the three of you were leaving, and you heard a few people answer before closing the door. Wearing your masks and leaving the apartment to get some bread, as you promised.

When you got to the convenience store a few minutes away from the dorm, Hyunjin went directly to the pastries, getting a few loaves of bread while you got a basket to get some food for the others. A few minutes later, they settled on getting one each instead,

"It’ll last us for about a week," you heard from Heejin, giggling at their antics when they discussed how they were going to budget it.

Paying for the food, you headed back to the dorm. On the way, the three of you decided to walk through the park, strolling quietly, as both of them walked on either side and hooked their arms around your arm.

Spotting a bench, you took a seat sitting quietly with the two while you observed the night sky. When you went out, it was always like this, filled with excitement and playful energy.

There were also times where you sat in silence, hanging out with your friends while you did nothing but relax with them, and as they rested their heads on your shoulder, you often wondered how you were this close to them.

That it was greater, to a certain degree, than the other members who also mean the same to you. You think it was because you’ve known Heejin longer, and you got along with Hyunjin, but it never really explained the weird sensations you would feel around them.

You closed your eyes and relished the company before you felt something different. Your whole body shivered, as you suddenly felt light headed. Heejin felt you shake, sitting up from her place and pulling both of you to your feet,

"Let’s go back, it’s getting cold," she said, both of them sensing your cold hand as they lowered their own to hold yours. A small smile spread on your face at their actions, already feeling warmer as you walked back to the dorms happily.

It was a week in when you started to feel strange, your body started to feel random pains. At first you thought nothing about it, thinking it might’ve been your body being tired from all the things that you were doing in school.

The day you finally paid attention to it was when you were walking down the hall with your friends, talking about your projects when you felt pain shoot up your ankle.

You let out a scream, dropping your books as you held onto the lockers. Your friends grew alarmed, moving to support you as they asked what was wrong,

"M-my ankle," you whimpered, closing your eyes as you held back the tears, feeling your friends loop your arm around their shoulders before they brought you to the clinic.

"Does it hurt here?" You gripped the bed in pain, nodding when the nurse pressed down on a particular spot. She stood up and got some ice and bandages, wrapping your ankle and placing the ice where she asked you to hold it,

"What happened?" The nurse looked at your friends who were watching from the side, "We were just talking when Y/n suddenly screamed and held onto the lockers,"

"Nothing happened while you were walking, you didn't trip or step on anything?" shook your head at the nurse who wrote it down in your letter, "Is your soulmate in any sports?" A blush seared on to your face, hearing your friends giggle before you answered, "I haven’t found mine yet,"

They hummed before finishing the letter, ripping it from the stack and handing it to you, "Then either you had an accident or it was your soulmate, hand this to your professor. Make sure to keep it on ice and make sure not to move too much. It should go away in about two to three weeks. "

You thanked the heavens that it was already after your classes, so with the help of your friends, they brought you back to your apartment, teasing you on the way about your soulmate, gushing at the thought of you being paired with one of the people in your school teams.

When you arrived home, they made sure to wait for your parents to arrive before they left, but, unfortunately for you, your family was even more annoying when you told them what could’ve caused your injury.

Having their own little party as you shuffled to your room where you sighed as you hit the sheets. Relaxing as you tried to find a comfortable position to lay down in that wouldn’t hurt your ankle too much, and as you laid down staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t help but think how you got your injury.

Could it be a sign that you finally found the person that was connected to you? The thought made your mind turn, thinking of all the possible things this could mean for the following days to come.

The next three weeks were not as bad. You didn’t experience any more problems with your ankle and nothing much happened during it.

Your friends stopped by often, handing you some notes and projects that you did while you were on bedrest, so you didn’t miss out on much. The only time you got back outside was when the girls invited you over to the dorm again for movie night, which you agreed to, of course.

You were helping some of the older members to prepare food when Heejin and Hyunjin both came out to the hallway from their room, greeting you excitedly as they hugged you and when they pulled away and went to the couch.

"What happened to them, unnie?" you wondered as you were asked by Haseul to wash the vegetables while the leader hummed absentmindedly, tasting the soup first before turning to answer you.

"Heejin accidentally missed her footing, she twisted her ankle, and since Hyunjin is her partner. You know how it goes," you furrowed your eyebrows at her explanation, looking down on your ankle as you faced the two on the couch. It could have been a coincidence, after all, they were already soulmates.

"Do you remember when it happened, unnie?" you asked again, the gears in your head once again turning as one side fought against the other.

"About two and a half to three weeks ago, why?" She turned to look at you as you gave her a smile, shaking your head and looking back at your work.

One side of your head wanted to believe that it could be possible, but the other side forced you to get it out of your head and see that none of the things that you were thinking were even remotely possible. Even if you made up different reasons and points, you would contradict yourself.

You felt something sting on your finger before you instinctively jerked your hand back, a yelp escaping your lips as you accidentally cut your fingers. Haseul went to check on you, holding your hand while everyone was busy with their own stuff. Then suddenly, hearing someone yelp, they left their rooms and checked to see who got hurt.

Heejin and Hyunjin were both watching on TV when they heard you yelp, standing up. They suddenly felt pain run up their arms. They looked at their hands and saw the cut, the red liquid running down as they froze in their places,

"Yah, Heejin, you’re bleeding!" Sooyoung called out, pulling both stunned girls to the sink where your eyes lingered over them. Watching as they were unresponsive while Sooyoung washed their hands.

Haseul pulled you to the table, cleaning your hands as she did her best to patch up your cut.

"This might hurt a little," she put some disinfectant, making you flinch at the burning sensation as the other two seemed to draw back from the sink.

Haseul put on a cover, making sure it wasn’t too tight before facing the kitchen where she just noticed her two other members being taken care of by Sooyoung. Glancing back at you, she had her eyebrows furrowed. Seeing the blank expression on your face as the two sat beside you.

Sooyoung also noticed your finger but didn’t say anything and just helped the two to cover it, though at the same time, when she applied disinfectant you flinched in your seat, grasping your finger as if you were the one who was sprayed with it.

The members watched in confusion, seeing the three of you seated with unreadable expressions while flinching from time to time.

When Sooyoung pulled away, she let you be as they gathered around you, all of them having the same thoughts before Hyejoo walked up and did the best she could to solve your problem.

She drew her hand back and swung it, punching your shoulder as the three of you groaned and whined at the punch, the members looked at you baffled, before Jiwoo was the next and pinched Heejin on the cheeks harshly, watching as you would hold your cheek in discomfort.

"Yah, we’re not play toys, what are you doing?" You whined when you saw how Jinsoul was about to flick one of you in the head. You already understood the situation, you just had trouble accepting the reality and possibility of it all, when Haseul noticed the lack of communication, she finished the rest of the food quickly and gave a look to the girls who watched the three of you in silence.

One look from the older girl and everyone understood, going back to their separate rooms to give you three the privacy you needed.

Once you saw the older’s room shut, you fiddled with your hands on your lap, paying attention to your cut that had been treated by the older girl, "I-uh, don’t know what to say," you wanted to break the awkward atmosphere, but it seemed like you made it worse, seeing as neither of the two were looking at you, still staring at the table.

"I can go away if you want me to?"

"I know you two are happy the way they are. I'm not sure what I'll do if I randomly join in. I don't want to ruin anything that you already have," you said, and you thought that if they didn't do or say anything, you would've left the dorm.

So you were glad when Heejin’s hand moved to yours, clasping your right hand in hers and intertwining your fingers together, "I don’t mind," Heejin whispered softly.

You glanced at the other girl as she stood up, moving around the table until she got to your side and held your other hand in hers, "We’ve always had this connection, right? If the world destined us like this, then I know you’re good enough for me,"

The joke made you and Heejin giggle before they leaned closer and rested their heads on your shoulder. It was like every other moment you shared. Soft and sweet, yet you enjoyed it all the while. It might’ve been the same as the other moments, but this particular one had one detail you wouldn’t forget.

They say that when the world was created, everything had a pair. But sitting there now has made you realize that not everything you believed in was true, and that just because everyone else had it doesn't mean you needed it as well, you couldn't determine it, how could you?

You were with the people to prove it.

#girl group #girl group imagines #girl group reactions #loona imagines #loona scenarios #loona #loona heejin #loona hyunjin #heejin scenarios #heejin imagines #jeon heejin #heejin #kim hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin imagines #tt

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eirikaanemo · 3 years

Text

Heavy Is The Crown

Warnings: None

Venti x GN!Minstrel!Reader

3.1k Words

Venti's a servant boy at the palace that you fall in love with... right?

You’re the apprentice of the renowned Minstrel Chapman of the Riverside Performers Company. And recently your company was invited to go perform at the palace for the royal family of Mondstadt. It’s understandable really, they probably need some joy and relaxation in their lives considering the difficult war that is waging on. Of course, you’re one of the few to see it that way.

“People are dying on the battlefield every day, and the King and Queen want to make merry?” Archibald scoffed. “Peace, Archibald,” Grisela soothed. “This war is difficult for them as well.” Archibald scoffed again but chose not to respond further. These sorts of discussions were common now-a-days, and a gap of misunderstanding and hurt is starting to grow between the rulers and their people.

This really concerned you because you’d once known the son of a Baron and he had explained these sorts of difficulties to you. Your goal was to try and help bridge the gap. Since Master Chapman has charged you to write a song yourself for the royal performance, you have decided to write a song that could help with that. But the problem is that you have no idea what to write! And you’re running out of time.

When your company reaches the palace the next day, you are no closer to having written the song than you were before. Thankfully you all had arrived at the palace a couple days early, so you still had some time to come up with your song. However, you were feeling so nervous that you couldn’t even focus on trying to compose it at all.

So you decided to take a break and wander around the palace grounds, as you and your company had been invited to do when you arrived. As you did so, admiring the beautiful flowers and bushes of the garden, you ended up running into someone. Literally as in one moment you were standing up, and the next you were sitting on the ground clutching your head.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry,” someone apologized to you. “I should’ve been better about looking where I was going. Are you okay?” Peeking up, you see a servant boy with black hair in braids with teal tips and a flower tucked behind his ear. “Yes, I’m fine,” you assure him. “A little stunned, but I’ll be alright in a minute.”

“Are you sure?” He asks worriedly. When you nod he breathes a sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear, Head Maid Maribel would have my head if I hurt a guest.” You smile and laugh a little. “Well we can’t have that,” you tease. “I’m sure you look much nicer when you have your head on your shoulders.” He stills for a moment from his fiddling from a moment before, a blush spreading from his cheeks to his ears.

Spluttering some, he manages to squeak out, “Oh, um, thanks?” You look at him oddly. “Don’t tell me no one’s ever teased you like that before,” you say. “I, um, won’t tell you then.” He jokes, calming down some. You smile some and give him a wink, “Well, I’m honored to be the first then.”

“Oh!” He exclaims. “I need to be pruning some bushes right now.” Your smile drops a bit, you’d been hoping to spend some more time with him. Noticing that, he adds on, “Would you like to come along? We could talk more while I prune.” You easily agree, “I’d like that very much, thank you.”

More confident now that he had something to focus on, he continued to make small talk with you. You introduce yourself and the two of you get to know each other better; he is ecstatic to know that you’re a minstrel and play the lyre. “I’m learning to play the lyre too!” He declares. “Maybe you could teach me a thing or two.” You smile at him, happy to know that you have that in common.

“I would like that! But,” you admit, “unfortunately, I’m afraid I don’t have the time right now. My master has told me to write a song and I’m struggling to get it out. With the war going on, I want to write a song to help bridge the gap between the royals and the commoners. From my experiences with the son of a Baron I knew, this war is just as hard for them as it is for us.”

He pauses from snipping away at the bush he’s working on. “You know, I’m glad you see it that way,” he tells you with an oddly grateful look in his eyes. “My p- Their majesties have really been struggling recently, especially with the loss of support from the people. For all the life of nobility looks wonderful, it comes at a cost. You lose freedom, always have to put others before yourself, can’t show any weakness, and bear the weight of every death on your shoulders.”

The odd phrasing and sudden correction go straight over your head as your muse suddenly rears its head. “I think I’ve got it now,” you blurt out. He blinks and tilts his head, confused. “Well I’m not sure what I did or said to help,” he replies, “but I’m glad I could help.”

You give him a big hug. “Really, you helped a lot,” you admit. “I need to go get started composing! But, uh, do you think I could see you again later?” He returns the hug. “Sure thing,” he murmurs in your ear. “I should be out here for the rest of today and all of tomorrow, but you’ll need to find me.”

“I think I can do that,” you murmur back and pull away from the hug. “See you tomorrow,” you call out to him as you start heading back to your Company. He watches you until you’re out of sight, before he goes back to pruning. “Well, that was fun,” he cheerfully tells himself. “I hope they do come back tomorrow. It’s not everyday I get to talk to someone like that.”

Composing the song was child’s play once you pick your lyre back up and get to work. The boy’s words repeat over and over in your head as you plan out lyrics and try different tunes. Master Chapman was thrilled when you played your song for him and assured you that the royals would love it. “It’s a wonderful tribute to all they do for us. And it helps us understand them and makes them more relatable to us,” he confirms. “I’m sure it will help you achieve your goal of helping bridge the gap between commoners and royals.”

When you find the boy the next day, you’re nearly vibrating in excitement. “Hey you,” you call. “Guess what?” His head turns to see you mid-snip and the branch lands on his head. You run over to make sure he’s okay. “Are you alright?” You ask him. “Yeah,” he responds sheepishly. “I guess this time it’s you who has to worry about getting me hurt.”

“Well that’s good,” you state, pouting at his teasing. “Oh! I realized yesterday that I don’t know your name!” He rubs the back of his head, embarrassed. “Ehe, sorry, I can’t believe I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Venti, it’s nice to officially meet you!”

“That’s a wonderful name,” you reply. “I like it a lot.” He smiles wide, “Thanks!” As the day continues you continue to talk with each other. Eventually he ropes you in to helping him with his chores. Thanks to that he gets done early and, after reporting back about finishing, he’s able to just spend the rest of the day with you.

After a certain point you’re able to admit to yourself that you’re falling for him. He’s cute, free-spirited, and makes you laugh. And maybe it’s just your imagination, but he seems to enjoy your time together too. The days left leading up to the performance are spent practicing and spending time with him. He’s tried to get you to play the song for him, but you insist that he wait for the performance to see.

The day of the performance comes very quickly, too quickly in your opinion. For all the compliments everyone who has heard your song gives you, and all the minds it has changed, you’re still incredibly nervous to perform it. What if they don’t like it? Will they find it presumptuous for you to write such a thing? When the time comes, will you mess up?

But the moment it’s your turn you take a deep breath, remind yourself that this is what you’re training for, and take your place on stage. Looking at the audience, you see the King and Queen, but, oddly enough, Prince Barbatos did not seem to be present. You strum your lyre and introduce yourself and your song. The audience seems intrigued that you would write such a song, so you take courage and start singing.

The stars are very beautiful, above the palace walls,

They shine with equal splendour, still above far humbler halls.

I watch them from my window, but their bright entrancing glow,

Reminds me of the freedom I gave up so long ago.

Although I am the head of state, in truth I am the least,

The true royal knows their people fed, before they sit to feast.

The good royal knows their people safe, before they takes their rest,

Thinks twice and thrice and yet again, before they make request.

These tears that burn my eyes are all the tears a royal can't shed,

The tears I weep in silence as I mourn my soldiers dead.

Oh gods that dwell beyond the stars, if you can hear my cry—

And if you have compassion—let me send no more to die!

(See: The Cost of the Crown by Mercedes Lackey, Debra F. Sanders)

As the last note fades the crowd stands with roaring applause. You feel a warmth spread across your cheeks as you bow deeply and return to your place standing with your company. Those standing around you congratulate you quietly as the next member steps up to perform.

Soon the performance is over and your Company is preparing to leave. Surprisingly many members of the Company had changed their minds about royals and the Company Head, Ferdinand, approached you to pass on the gratitude and appreciation from the King and Queen themselves. Venti showed up one last time, and Master Chapman allowed you to go speak with him as a treat for a job well done.

“That was amazing!” Venti shouts. “Did I really help you write that? I was hiding behind some curtains to listen and it was so amazing that I cried.” He grins so bright that you almost have to close your eyes. “I’m glad you liked it!” You say as you smile back. His happiness was contagious, and it didn’t help that you were completely smitten with him at this point. But alas, it was not meant to be.

Master Chapman called your name, letting you know that the Company would be leaving soon and that you’d have to come back within the next minute or two if you didn’t want to be left behind. Venti’s smile dims. “Are you sure you can’t stay?” He inquires. “Yes,” you sigh. “But who knows? Maybe I’ll see you again some day. But until then…” You trail off. He looks at you curiously, tilting his head again. Quickly, so as to not chicken out, you peck his check and run back to the Company.

“Until then!” You call out to him. The Company leaves as soon as you get there, so you’re not able to look back to see him. But if you could have, you would have seen him blushing as red as a rose, with a hand on his cheek where you kissed him. “Until then,” he whispers quietly. “I’ll make sure I’ll see you again.”

---

Years pass, and your apprenticeship ends. You make quite the name for yourself, and your song has worked wonders to heal the relationship between the people and their rules. Of course you write many more songs, but your first is always your favorite. Because he helped you write it. Many people have asked to court you, but you have turned them all down. Even after all these years, Venti the servant boy still holds your heart.

One day a messenger comes to speak with Ferdinand, bringing both good and bad news. Ferdinand calls the whole company together to share it. “Good friends, I’m sad to say that the King has passed away.” He announces, and the Company breaks into whispers and conversation. You think you may have even seen Gwenivere crying. “However, we have been invited to perform at Prince Barbatos’ coronation!”

This was wonderful news! Perhaps you could take this chance to see Venti again! You’d missed him dearly. But the more you thought about it, the more worried you became. Maybe he’d moved on and married someone else already. Would he still remember you? Will he want anything to do with you now? What if you didn’t like you and is upset about the kiss you gave him before you left?

You shake those thoughts out of your head and take a deep breath to calm yourself. Then you feel a hand clamp down on your shoulder and you must’ve jumped several feet in the air in your surprise because the person behind you burst into laughter. Embarrassed, you turn around to see Ferdinand, now laughing so hard that he was having trouble standing up.

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumble at him, good naturedly. “I’m sure startling me was very funny.” Finally calming down, Ferdinand gave you a great big smile. “It most certainly was,” he assured you. “But I didn’t come to you with the intention to startle you.” You raise an eyebrow as you continues. “I wanted to let you know that you were actually mentioned by name, so you may want to prepare something special.

Your jaw dropped. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for someone to be specifically named, but this was from the Prince himself! Still stunned, you nodded. “I’ll write the best song I can,” you promised him. “I’m sure you will,” he replied confidently. He didn’t stay long after that, just letting you know the basics of when the Company would be leaving and how soon the coronation would be.

As you travel you do your best to compose a song. However, you soon find yourself stuck. Your muse is gone again, just like it was the last time you went to the palace. Oh well, perhaps Venti could help you again. It would be wonderful to spend more time with him anyway, so you don’t worry too much about it.

The Company reaches the palace after a week of travel. You look for Venti in the gardens all day, but can’t find him anywhere. ‘Perhaps he got moved to working in the castle?’ You wonder to yourself. But either way, that meant he wouldn’t be able to help you write your song. So you sat down that night and did your best to compose.

It wasn’t really working, but you did your best. The next morning was chaotic, as the Company had been informed that the Prince himself would be coming out to welcome you all. You hurriedly joined in making the company camp look presentable and changed into your best clothing before going out to stand with everyone else.

The Prince was announced before the palace doors opened to reveal… Venti. Your eyes went wide and your jaw must have dropped to the ground. Those who were in the company before very carefully didn’t turn to look at you, though the newbies couldn’t help but look at you, confused. You quickly composed yourself as he scanned the crowd, though the smiles of some of his guards told you that your reaction did not go unnoticed.

It was very much him. The same dark hair with teal tipped braids. His eyes brightened as they met yours. He strode forward and the crowd parted before him. You were about to move as well until he stopped before you, fell to one knee, took one of your hands, and gently kissed it. Your face warmed again in a way that it hadn’t since you last saw him.

His eyes sparkled with mirth as he saw the look on your face. “Hello again,” he said gently. “Hi,” you squeaked. “It’s, uh, it’s good to see you again?” He laughed, “It’s good to see you again too. I know I kept my status a secret before, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth then, but could I ask you a question?”

“O-of course,” you respond. He smiles charmingly. “Will you marry me?” That’s it. You must’ve died and gone to heaven. Or maybe someone had put something in your breakfast. Or maybe he had the wrong person. You looked side to side to see if there was anyone else he could be talking to before you point to yourself. “M-me?” You ask, hesitantly. “You,” he says confidently. “I fell in love with you all those years ago, and I could never imagine myself with someone else.

“Though I would understand if you’re with someone else. It’s been so long and you’re so wonderful that you must have received many invitations to courtship.” A shy smile spreads across your face. “I have received many offers,” you admit, and his face falls a bit. “But I’ve turned them all down. My heart was taken years ago by my dear Venti the servant boy.”

You get down on your knees and kiss the hand that is holding yours. “I would love to marry you, if you’ll have me.” He smiles brighter than the sun. “Nothing would make me happier,” he declares, and he pulls you in for a kiss. You pull away for air and nuzzle your nose against his. “I do have one request though,” you continue. “Anything, my love,” he swears. “Court me properly first, please,” you request.

“I can do that,” he laughs as he pulls you in for a hug. “How about we start with having lunch together,” he whispers in your ear. “That sounds like a great plan,” you agree. He gives you another quick kiss before standing up, pulling you to your feet, and leading you back to the palace.

You ignore the whistles and applause of your Company as you follow him, grateful for their support but wanting to give your suitor all your attention. This was the first day of the rest of your life, and you wanted to appreciate every minute of it. And every minute was just as wonderful as you’d ever imagined.

As queen, you were able to bring the kingdom together and closer than ever before. The people loved their rulers because they knew their rulers dedicated themselves to them. And the rulers responded in kind. The war ended, peace prevailed, and you got your perfect happily ever after.

#eirika writes #venti #genshin venti #venti x reader #genshin impact x reader #royalty au

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kanene-yaaay · 3 years

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Tickle me, princey

Kanene’s note: This fic is basically: Virgil is a bratty Lee, Roman is a competitive Ler and none of them are going down without a fight xDD.

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Lee!Virgil and Ler!Roman (Kind of. Because there is almost no tickles here, just teasing). Human AU.

* Hmmm… This is a Tickle-Fanfic! If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are plenty of amazing art in this site!! ‘u’).

* This have about 2.500 words of Roman and Virgil just being teasy beans. ‘w’)b.

* PLEASE CHECK THIS AMAZING ART! IT’S INCREDIBLEE! <33

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! I didn’t proofread that one very well, so I will probably be correcting a few things later. Any advice is always very, very welcome!

* A versão em português brasileiro irá ser escrita, ainda. Eu espero! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Do something crazy today, take a good rest, be kind (especially with yourself) and drink water! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

Roman cleaned his hands on his jeans before stretching his back and sighing in relief when a small ‘pop’ came from it. The pal from the nearby library was a cool person – not that he would ever allow the other to hear this, because, damn, people who called Roman cocky definitely haven’t met them yet – but equally precise in get on his nerves with as few words as possible, even though the florist didn’t care that much as his dramatics discourses tried to convince everyone he did.

Besides that, they was Patton’s friend and even more important, they made an accord with the Flower Shop’s owner and Roman was the one in charge to deliver their biweekly floral arrangement to the library’s decór. However, today Roman managed to win their discussion and therefore a couple of podcast episodes read by them (What? Their voice was quite nice!!).

Roman ignored the small ring of the door’s bell as he entered the Flower Shop, looking around to be sure there was no clients before taking his position behind the balcony, internally thanking how chill Patton was with his employees using phone during the shift as long there wasn’t no one near, especially as he unlocked his screen and a new notification popped in front of him.

Butterflies went immediately crazy on his stomach.

[Message from Panic! At Everywhere]

[P: Hey. So, are you still ok?]

Virgil kicked his blanket out of his bed, already feeling a tad of giddiness spread across his body, a small smirk finding its way to his face without him even realizing. Today was the day. Since when he and Roman talked on the last week about boundaries to be sure nothing had changed and decided Saturday as a good day for their session the one with purple hair couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander, picturing and re-picturing what would happen, even though Roman always insisted to never tell him his plans, wanting to keep everything as a surprise, which definitely didn’t help at all the excitement running on his veins.

Their session.

Their tickle session. It was only eleven in the morning and Virgil could already feel his skin tingle just by imagine Roman’s fingers grazing, dancing on it, carefully looking for all his weak spots both knew so well before coming with an entire new technique that would make the other (almost, barely, hardly) want to jump out of his skin so he could escape from the maddening tickly sensation.

He was going to love it.

Also, it didn’t help that he spent the previous night and its following morning consuming all his favorite tickle content, dying on the spot (and on the reblogs) and skyrocketing his lee mood to the mountains.

Nevertheless, he tried to play nonchalant as answered the other’s new message.

[Message from Dumb(o)]

[D: Yes.]

[P: Cool.]

[D: You?]

[P: Yep.]

[D: Glad to know, Blushy Bug. Try to not alarm all of our neighborhood with your squeals and giggles before I get there, okay? ~

D: And yeah, plu-e-ase, continue with your so delightful tags on your reblogs, okay, Tickle me Emo? I’m learning so much new information with that. If only I would have an opportunity to use all of them today…]

Virgil snorted, one hand trying to hide his face as he attempted with all his might to ignore the flames taking over his cheeks as the teases sank and the memories from the day he conquered this nickname emerged from the deeps of his mind. So, Princey was already so over his head with being the ler this time? Thinking Virgil would be hiding his face on the pillow, squeaking and tittering helpless? Well, he would have a big storm coming, then.

Virgil got up, his footsteps leading him to the clean desk in the room, moving some of the objects so carefully chosen in order to get the perfect picture. Every single makeup brush lined, gleaming under the lens of his camera, away enough so the viewer would be able to realize all their individualities but close enough to create an impact.

Two can play this game.

[Panic! At Everywhere sent an image]

Roman clicked on it, eyes going immediately wide as he quickly slammed the cellphone’s screen on his red apron, his gaze running from a place to another to be sure no one was near or had seen the conversation or noticed the way his smile went from an ear to another.

[P: Nah. I’m too occupied choosing the perfect tools for today… I mean, there are just so many options, ya know? I especially prefer the smallest ones, their bristles softly running on my ribs, tracing their way across my tummy to get to the other side… yeah. That is the good stuff. Or maybe we could be experimenting the biggest ones today, letting them tease that spot right under my chin, the softness engulfing all the nerves… ]

Roman took a deep breath, realizing the other still typing.

[P: Anyway, don’t make a big deal of this, ‘kay? I know your imagination can be very fertile but try to not alert Patton with all your blush and twitching. You know he is a curious guy and will want to know why you’re so smiley. ;)]

“Pai amado, (Dear God) he is going to kill me.” Roman crossed his arms, using all his will to no start wiggling them to nothing, a sudden urge to sing some nursery rhymes making him begin to humming quietly as attempted to gather enough concentration to type a proper, cool reply.

[D: Is that so? So, the big, badass Virgil Storm is excited to get all his tickly-tickle-tickles today? Is he excited to become a so helpless, so adorable mess of giggles and squeaks? To be teased and tickled until he can do nothing but give me those lovely snorts and wiggly-wiggles? ~

Awww. So cute. ~]

[P: Yeah, I am. So what? Wanna do something about that, Sir Sing a Lot?

Ops, I forgot you’re at work rn. Tsc. Such a pity. Well, guess I will have to kill some time by looking at your precious collection of feathers, see if I find something interesting there.]

[D: You just wait for when I get home.]

[P: :)]

Virgil laid his phone at his side, hiding his face on the mattress, kicking just like he was some teenager in love from those generic movies. The squeals bubbled out from his lips, smiles blooming. He knew he probably was just digging his own grave, but, ha, as if he would fall without a fight. Plus, imagining Roman trying at every cost to keep a straight expression while reading his texts and then struggling to continue his work just as if nothing had happened, with that cute, excited smile planted on his face made a proud wave of power – and joy - hit him and that was a bonus which was worth it.

Then his phone vibrated, indicating a new notification and a new flood of shivers as he unlocked his screen, freezing for a couple of heartbeats with the length of the message.

[D: A poem for my dear Knightmare. ~

Once upon a time

There was a wiggley-wiggly lee

That just a few pokes

Made him giggle with glee

Some scribbles here

Some scratches there

You can tickle-tickle

He is ticklish everywhere!

What, you don’t believe me?

‘That much cute he can’t be!’

Well, then allow me to demonstrate

All the beautiful sounds he can create!

Give a few prodding on his ribs

And a quick digging on his hips

Some brushes on his toesies and feet

And don’t forget about these helpless pits!

(And hey, psst, if you squeeze his sides

The cutie, squeaky, wiggly lee,

Will be squealing in a happy delight)

This neck is also asking for tickly-kisses

He always denies, always desire

Add to that some teasy whispers

And watch his cheeks be set on fire!

Once upon a time

There was a bratty, smug lee

That just a few tickle teases

Can make him a blushy mess

Just like now, you see!]

[…]

“Have a nice day. Thank you for coming!”

Roman waved to the client who got out from the Flower Shop, taming the smugness which threatened to take over his features as he realized that even though an hour had passed, no answer to his last text had arrived yet. He was perfectly aware of how weak Virgil was for any sort of rhymed tease and a whole poem – not his best, he had to admit – dedicated to him? He could almost see the other shrieking, hiding his red face on the pillow, lost in a mess of quiet peals of laughter and curses. His smile got even bigger, swelled in pride. And, well, if he couldn’t help it but push his luck a few inches further, his fingers already halfway to typing a small, itsy bitsy, new tease to his favorite emo lee, how could someone really blame him?

[D: Oh, sorry. Did I make the scary Virgil too much flustered to talk? Awww, I will miss your sassy remarks deeply and sing a ballad in your honor at the funeral. ~]

He snorted at the amount of time the symbol of ‘typing’ appeared and disappeared on the conversation, using the ten minutes he took to be answered to organize a few sales signs on the glass in front of the store, gaining a dance on his step as the one-worded sentence shone on his phone.

[P: Bitch.]

[D: I have no idea of what you’re talking about. Is that something I said? I feel wounded.]

But a new thing popped up.

[Panic! At Everywhere sent a video]

[P: :)]

It seemed like hours passed, even if he knew the downloading probably didn’t really take more than a few pieces of minute for him to hit the play.

The focus of the camera took a few seconds to adjust, the image trembling and shaking before going still, the crystal clear form of a small light brown, slightly spiked feather twirling between Virgil’s index and thumb locking his eyes on the screen. A quick, quiet sigh could be heard before the tickle tool descended to the palm extended on a desk, stopping by Virgil’s pulse.

The bristles grazed the skin there as the feather began to move on slow strokes, going from the left to the right, left and right, left and right… calmly making its way up, changing to small swirls as it contorted the form of the hand, giving to each finger a light tracing before concentrating on the palm, drawing a spiral which approximated inch by inch to the center. If Roman wasn’t so quiet, - even holding his breath, - maybe he wouldn’t be able to listen the incredibly low, contained huffs of laughter on the background, a soft snort escaping and making both hands tremble as the bristles hit the center of his hand, dancing around the spot for a bit.

When it stopped, the tool was placed on the desk and then the camera started to move, stopping on Roman’s so very well-known golden with silver details box. Its lid laid next to it, letting its entire content to be proudly shown. The explosion of colors from the most diverse large, small, pointy, fluffy feathers took over the frame, however, a tiny piece of paper placed on the exact center of them was what captured his attention. The lens zoomed and focused, making him able to read the quick message written there.

“:)”

And then the screen went black. The video was over.

Roman could feel his face being almost split in half by his grin, his fingers hitting the table top in complete frenzy since they hadn’t to hold the device anymore, curling and uncurling as the one who couldn’t just stay still started to bounce his right leg, ignoring the redness he felt crippling down his neck.

“Roman?”

He fully shrieked. Both him and Patton startled and jumped a few centimeters in the air with the sudden sound. The florist slapping his own hand on his mouth, trying with all his inner strength to stop the bubbly giggles which flooded non stop from his lips

“Sorry for the scare, kiddo,” the shine on his eyes free of any guilt as Patton bit his own knuckles proved the contrary, especially when the rest of an awed squeal escaped from his lips, only making the other to giggle harder, eyes closed, blush deepening and nose scrunched. “Aww, your giggles are so cute!”

“Shuhuhush!!” The Flower Shop owner just smiled fondly, withholding his comments and patiently waiting for the other to recompose himself. When Roman looked at least a tad calmer he decided to make his decision to talk to him clear.

“I’m glad you’re in a good mood, Ro! I just wanted to remember today’s shift is already over. I need a bit of time to organize everything before the painter comes so we can discuss the new design of the Flower Shop. Thank you so much for the ideas, by the way! I can’t wait for you all to see the result! It will be so pretty!!” Roman’s wide eyes were enough of an explanation of why he wasn’t ready to go yet, probably having forgotten about their last month conversation. Although, the surprised look was away in an instant, a shine taking over his glare before he softened, locking his eyes with Patton.

“Of course, it will be, Patty-cake! With my magnificent ideas and your good taste, I really don’t think any other result besides wonderful and perfection will be possible!” He squeezed Patton’s cheeks and his friend stuck out his tongue at him, winning a quick poke on his ribs that made him squirms and yelp, quickly tittering and waving the other with his hands.

“Now shoo-shoo, go enjoy your afternoon!”

A devious smirk gleamed on Roman’s expression for a second. “You can count on it, Padre.” But then it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Thank you, my mighty hero in a shiny armor! May the universe let our destiny align again in the future.”

“See ya, kiddo!” He replied, his tune also full of joy, watching the one with red hair going away, a happy bounce on his steps.

[…]

Virgil picked the phone in the first ring. “Roman, something happened?”

“Nope,” the purple lover sighed in relief, all the tension getting out of his body and being replaced by confusion, “nothing happened except that a handsome, incredible someone got out from his work earlier than expected and might be heading his home by now.”

That made Virgil shot up, biting his lower lip, butterflies freaking out. “No.” It was his whisper.

“Oh, yes. ~” Roman practically purred on the speaker. “any last words, my dear, defenseless Giggly Storm?”

Virgil just giggled and Roman had almost forgotten how that sound only was enough to spread an explosion of a warm, good feeling on his chest. “Aw, and here I was thinking I would have at least some challenge today. ~” He continued to tease.

Silence.

“Go check your messages, Princeypie.”

And then he hung up. Roman fondly rolled his eyes, running to check the new notification on their conversation.

[Panic! At Everywhere sent a photo]

It was Virgil, sitting on his bed criss crossed, one elbow resting on his thigh as he took the picture on the body mirror on the other side of the room, a strong blush very visible on his face half hidden by the device, wearing a short and Roman’s red crop top. A new message popped right under the photo.

[P: Get your butt here and tickle me, Sir Sing a Lot.’]

This emo was going to be the death of him.

[D: Aww, I don’t even get a smile?]

[P: You gotta work for those, Princey.]

Virgil definitely did not jump nor yelp as he heard the low, dangerous tune of an “evil” laughter echoes in the house coming from the living room, the sound of the front door being closed making his flight instincts kick in.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Virgil was already halfway to the most far away room where he could escape, trying to keep his reputation as he heard another set of footsteps quickly getting ground and following right behind him. Laughter and squeaks mixed in the air.

“Because I will.” Roman answered.

#Very teasy #Teases #Lee!Virgil #Ler!Roman #Virgil is a brat and Roman is one as well #Ticklish!Virgil #Sanders Sides tickles #Sanders Sides tickling #Kanene's Fanfic #Kanene's Art #Kanene's fic #Brief self tickles #Feathers #blushy bois #Writing this kind of fic is very fun and sdfghertcvgbhn kind of silly as well #Virgil: Tickle me// Roman: Okay// Virgil: *NYOOOM*#I still don't know how to tag this dfghjsdfghdcf #I feel like my writing is a bit weird nowdays but yeah I'm still proud of this!

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cafeinthemoon · 3 years

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The Leaves of Her Garden - Chapter XVI

Title: The Leaves of Her Garden

Genre: Fanfiction

Pairing: Madara Uchiha x reader

Rating: Mature

Word count: 3163

Chapter (s): 16/?

Read the previous chapters here: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Interlude, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15

Symbols: ⭕ | ➕ | 🖤 | ▶▶

Chapter XVI - The Week Before the Travel

If you thought your life has been through enough changes the moment you arrived at the Uchiha compound, the week before your husband’s farewell came to show you that there’s nothing that has already been through many changes that couldn’t be transformed a bit more.

The mornings were reserved to your shinobi training. You always used the same place of the day you learned how identify your chakra pathway, the garden. You liked it for its quietness and privacy: it was like whenever you were there, you could never be interrupted by someone or something unexpected. It seemed to work as a fence to another world, where time stopped just for you two.

Your progress came faster than you were expecting. Yes, it’s true that you were far from becoming a skilled shinobi like the ones you met there, but what you were capable of doing now were impressive when you considered that you were an adult who never had any preparation until then.

After learning how to control your chakra, your first challenge was to practice with kunai. When Madara put a blade on your hand for the first time and explained what you were supposed to do with it, you couldn’t feel anything but the uncomfortable weight of the weapon; you almost told him you didn’t want to hold anything like that again, but since you were going so far and you asked for that, you couldn’t look behind. When you found out you could transfer your chakra the kunai, holding it became strangely easier: your hand no longer trembled and you felt at will to throw it at the closest tree. The first time you did it, you ran to look at it closer and were surprised of how deep the blade entered the wood.

You then started to train your defense: for now, it was better for you to learn how to protect yourself and avoid conflicts, just as you wanted in the first place, and Madara stated that this part of your training would make things easier when you started to learn attack methods. This time you felt less difficulty to adapt because of the previous session you had before the ceremony; you also noticed the difference between striking using your chakra and just relying on your physical strength: your movements were more fluid, faster and well led. You felt less tired at the end too.

You were almost happy with your results when Madara decided to include the kunai in the process.

- But you almost don’t use any weapons when you’re fighting – you protested, using the vision you had with Hashirama as a parameter – Besides, if I won’t be attacking anyone I don’t need to know everything about a weapon right now.

His response was to laugh and disappear, taking the spot behind you right after; he held you neck and you felt something cold touching your skin. It didn’t take too long for you to recognize the sharp texture of the kunai. You froze.

- I forgot to say that these weapons are not only used for long-range attacks – he whispered to you – It’s not uncommon that a victim find themselves exactly like the way you are now. And what would you do in such state?

- I…

- It’s better to learn how to avoid it, right? – he replied for you – Besides, not everybody has the luxury of obtaining success in fights with their bare hands. For most shinobi, it’s unrealistic.

Yes. You almost forgot that, just like the Senju head, the Uchiha one was not a common man. Maybe if you had more contact with common shinobi you could have developed comparison methods that would sound more fair. But you didn’t say that to him. You just nodded and continued your training.

Later, by noon, it was the time when you were taken back home to clean yourself, eat and have a time to rest. You wouldn’t see your husband for a long time then: as the head of the clan and being busy with the preparations for the travel, spending the mornings with you was the best he could do for you now. Not only this, but you also thought that it wasn’t healthy for a girl to spend too much time in the company of a man, even if this man was as close to her as a spouse; you needed the company of other women too, and common people who had nothing to do with war and politics.

Fortunately, Ayane and Aiko kept visiting and taking care of you after your marriage, and while you developed an even closer friendship with the first, you started to see the second as a new mother life has decided to give you. Being with them, talking, eating and even working together (because after your insistence they allowed you to perform some of the house tasks) was refreshing; the moments you spent with them were of pure and simple joy, and worked as a period of rest from the intensity of your husband’s company.

One day, when you and Ayane were walking at the house’s surroundings, you finally had some time to continue that conversation you started when you were preparing for the wedding.

- So, y/n-sama… I hope everything went well during the wedding night.

There was no embarrassment in the girl’s words, so you felt at will to speak. You smiled and, before you noticed, you were speaking much more than you thought you would.

- Well, I… I don’t even know how to explain this to you! It was strange and incredible and… – you sighed and turned to her – Beautiful. At first, when you left me in that room, alone, dressed for the night, I was scared. I went to the porch to take some fresh air and to observe the stars. After some minutes, he came. I turned to him and it was like... I mean, now I was a married woman, about to be taken. I never felt the reality of my new condition so deep as during that moment.

You lowered your tone, and a sort of sadness was sensed in your words as you relived those memories.

- Do you remember the state in which I was brought here? I was still grieving the loss of my mother, and just lost my job and my house. But now I was given a new family, protection and a home. I wasn’t expecting this. It was so overwhelming that I started to cry.

You paused, trying to process your feelings. Ayane encouraged you.

- And what did Madara-sama do when he saw you crying?

A smile grew on the corner of your mouth and you sensed your face warming up.

- He hugged me and took me inside. He told me not to thank him with tears. I thought about that. He was right, you know? It was not the time to cry. Not anymore. He closed the porch’s door behind us and was going to start to touch me, but I was so nervous that I flinched at his first movement. He noticed it and told me to sit on the futon. He went there too and spent some time in silence, doing nothing, just looking at me. It was… unsettling, but not entirely bad. It was... – you sighed – Oh, it’s so hard to explain!

Ayane smiled.

- It’s alright. I think I know what you trying to say.

You felt relieved to see you were making some sense despite the confusion inside your head. This gave you the courage to continue speaking.

- You know how intense are Madara-sama’s eyes, Ayane. Every time he looks at me, I feel like all my clothes are nothing, because he’s looking inside me. As if I was naked from body and soul. That night it was the same sensation but deeper, so that I wasn’t sure I would be able to stand it. That was the first time something like this happened to me. It was scary to think that from that moment, I was going to be the wife of man capable of such thing.

You laugh at yourself at this.

- Tell me. Are all the Uchiha like this?

The girl laughed hard at your question.

- Well, none of them are exactly like Madara-sama, of course, but all of us who are Sharingan bearers have some intensity in our eyes. But I think that since you already experienced the strongest Sharingan of our time, you’d have no problem handling the other ones!

You smiled and were about to tell Ayane about the experience with the Mangekyo Sharingan, but something held your tongue. You somehow sensed that it was not the type of thing you should tell other people, no matter how close was your friendship with them; that was a pure, unique sign of intimacy that didn’t belong only to you, but to Madara as well. Something only for you two. You decided to tell part of the story then.

- There was a moment when he talked to me about his life – you started – He said he already experienced fear and loneliness. He told me he understood how I was feeling and that the best thing he could do for me was to share his experience. And it worked. Somehow our feelings started to blend as one, and I was no longer afraid. I finally let him touch me.

Ayane’s curiosity was only excited with this strange narrative of yours. She came closer to you, whispering as if someone could appear and interrupt the conversation at any moment:

- And how was it?

You looked at the sky when you replied.

- It was… wonderful. In a strange way. At first I was uncomfortable, and even thought I was going to get hurt, but little by little I got used to it. I felt like I was not alone anymore. I felt I was part of something again. Visible. Desired. I felt… safe.

- That is quite an explanation, I must say – she replied with a smirk – And then, what happened?

- Well, I felt a bit tired and ended up taking a nap – you laughed – But he took care of me when I woke up and spent the night by my side. It was weird, because I am not used to sleep with other people so close to me, but it was good.

You decided you were away from the house for too long and started the way back, hurrying up before a worried Aiko could go after you.

***

Your life was not only training and talking, of course.

Following the protocols established when you accepted the role of Sachiko, you had studying sessions about History, Politics and Arts to improve your intellect. Since you were used to a routine of books and research thanks to your experience as governess, it wasn’t that hard to stay for a couple of hours occupied with them, but when the evening approached you couldn’t resist to a period of rest. Aiko would bring you tea and food, and you either stood with her talking about your day or listening as she told you stories of her youth, Ayane’s childhood or important things you were supposed to know about the Uchiha, or went to your room to draw or play the koto while you waited for Madara to come back.

You skills with the carbon were developing in a satisfying rhythm now that you had more time to dedicate yourself to this pastime and less anxieties clouding your mind. You made countless sketches and finished many of them in the evenings when you were alone after the women left and before your husband arrived. Your memories, the people you’ve met and the places you’ve been – the entry of your first house, destroyed by war, the house of your adoptive mother, your room there; your lost friends, your mother, your student, Izuna, Aiko, Ayane, Madara; the garden you were training with him, the forest, the river – all was turned into art.

You also composed new songs or parts of songs for your koto when you weren’t feeling like drawing. You wanted to show some of them to Madara; they were better than that one you’ve wrote for your student, which was never played by you again.

You weren’t sure of how or why, but even before you could see him inside the room, you always felt the moment he arrived; you weren’t able to explain exactly how it happened, but you could feel what it seemed to be a sudden change in the air whenever he came around. You have noticed this trait since you met him for the first time, but it was like after your training sessions your capacity of feeling it has increased. You’ve been willing to talk to Madara about this strange sensation, but you didn’t know how to introduce the subject.

He would always come to see you by night, after finishing his activities and taking care of himself. He used to find you immersed on the strings of the koto or sitting on the couch, a drawing on progress on your lap. You always waited for him to start the conversations; despite the intimacy you managed to build in those few days, you still sensed you couldn’t invade some parts of the territory that belonged to him: if he had to tell you something about it, he would do by himself.

On the other hand, he was always interested in how you spent your days when you were not with him: he would approach you and sit by your side, surrounding you with one arm, and listen to you while observing your drawings or the way your fingers would slip through the instrument’s strings in an unconscious manner as you spoke; from time to time, he would use your pauses to make a specific question for something you didn’t explain so well or forgot to say, but most of the times his questions were directed to how you felt about the things you saw or what you thought of the situations you got through. It was strange in the first days, for you never were the type of speaking your mind so easily, but Madara had a way to find out the things he wanted and his questions were made in a smart, assuring manner, so you never felt forced to tell him anything. As time passed, you noticed that those direct talking about your feelings made you more good than if you kept all of them to yourself.

After those conversations, you would organize your things in the place of the room you reserved for them and prepare to go to bed. Sometimes you would spend a moment alone at the porch, but there were nights when the breeze were too cold for one to stand there for a long time, so you just let Madara close the door and went directly to the futon.

***

He took you most of the nights during that week. None of those times were exactly like the wedding night, but in all of them there was something you enjoyed most, whether it was the way he took care of you right after, how he allowed you to sleep in his arms or the things he said while touching you, praising your body, the smell of your hair or your voice when you said his name. At first you were afraid that you would always feel the same discomfort of the first time, but it didn’t happen: as time passed, it was like your body was slowly adjusted to his, and your pain diminished until it was almost gone. Between those nights there were one and another when he came later and you ended up falling asleep on the couch; there was a time when you thought you were carried by someone at some point of the night, but you weren’t sure if it was a dream or not until you woke up next morning on the futon and saw that your husband was already gone.

An important change that occurred was that instead of limiting himself to touch you, Madara taught you some of the things you were supposed to know as his wife, such as how to use your lips, your hands and even your voice to give and gain pleasure. For he was your first man everything was new to you, which sometimes led you to some uneasiness or doubt whenever something seemed too strange to you, but here you ended up knowing another side of Madara: he was an excellent communicator; none of these things were shameful or to be treated with secrecy, and neither he wanted you to see them as such, so that he would always speak clearly about his wishes and fantasies while encouraging you to speak about yours; he also sensed whenever you felt uncomfortable with something, even when you didn’t speak. It wasn’t the case that you had thought so much about these things before meeting him – you naturally knew it would be expected if you ever became someone’s spouse one day, but the thought was too vague until then; you were never too worried about it. However, now that staying with a man was a main part of your life, you started having ideas. It was a side of you haven’t discovered yet. And not only you, but Madara was more than pleased to know about this side.

There was a night when he noticed you were urging to tell him something, but refused to speak. You were already lying on the futon, your back turned on him, when you felt him surrounding your waist with his arms; soon you felt a soft kiss on your shoulder.

- You want to tell me something, don’t you? – you heard him whisper – What is it? Is there something bothering you?

Your face warmed up with the question.

- Not bothering me. It’s just that…

You sensed his arms tightening their grip.

- I see… – another kiss, longer and warmer – There is something you want to do.

You didn’t reply. His leg entwined with yours, his knee between your thighs. You were almost lying on your stomach, his body heating up your back, his nose smelling your hair, his hands starting to come and go all over you.

- Don’t be shy, girl. If there is something I do not approve, it is false modesty – he approached his lips from your ear, his voice so low you’d swear you were hearing it in your head – The rest I can handle.

You smiled and finally told him what you had in mind. It was funny that once your thought were turned into words, it seemed something simple, even silly, compared to some of the things he taught you. Still, he showed immediate interest and helped you with everything you wanted.

#madara #madara uchiha #madara fanfiction #madara x reader #naruto fanfiction

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that-tall-queer-bassist · 3 years

Text

My personal Pros and Cons of my ADHD

Pros

-noticing all the little details and appreciating them in the fullest

-Emotional Dysregulation, because when I get a new plant, or find that one oddly shaped metal marble I lost a while ago, I am so excited it’s pathetic, but I love that feeling of pure joy.

-hyperfixation of the week/day/hour (i know some people describe it differently, let me be pls) . I usually switch between art mediums, and/or a few video games/social media sites. for example, I’ve been on tumblr for 3 hours as i write this, after not touching it for, i think a month?

-nuerodivergent friends. They’re just better.

-the ability to completely drown myself in information to ignore reality. Is it healthy? no. But i simply cannot handle another existiential crissi rn, so i will instead play minecraft while listening to alt rock playlists on youtube because getting spotify sounds like a lot of work.

-my ability to retain absolutely useless information, from either my, or my other nuerodivergent friends hyperfixations/special interests. I can explain to you in terrible formatting if it’s out loud, the evolution, history, training, anatomy and roles of the horse in our world, and how ao3 works, and what makes or breaks a fanfiction.

-Object Impermanence. When i literally hide myself a treat or surprise and forget about it, then get so excited when i do find/discover it again. I hide google questions, and/or song lyrics in my tabs :) its so fun. Also, hiding away stressors. Again, healthy? no, but i don’t feel like having anxiety all day, so whatever.

-Emotional Dysregulation, again. I can switch from sad or angry to happy and excited/content in a few seconds. It’s also great for getting my siblings out of their funk. ex., my sister is mad at me. I make a silly voice repeating what she said or cross my eyes at her. she laughs, then we can talk and have constructive conversation about why she shouldn’t get that upset about me “cutting off her reading time” when we share a room and I want to sleep, and know that she will be very tired tomorrow if she doesn’t also go to sleep. (We have this conversation almost every single night, i’m not even joking)

Cons

-Emotional Dysregulation. When i get upset, I’m Upset. Like, big time, ruining friendships and familial ties if i let it get out of hand, Upset. Yeah.

-Time Blindness. Constantly late, or early, or under or over estimating the amount of time it takes to do a thing, not eating til 4 because you forgot but you also should just wait til dinner, but now its 9 and I still haven’t eaten-

-Executive Dysfunction. I can’t do the things needed to function. Don’t have the mental energy to explain this one, so google it i guess? There’s a whole checklist of things you need to be able to do to function, and i can do like, three on a good day.

-Sleeping Trouble. People with adhd have trouble falling asleep, staying asleep, and waking up. So, sleeping trouble. So I’m constantly tired.

-Internal Clock is SLIGHTLY OFF. Nuerotypicals have that normal sleep schedule. Adhd ers have it shifted forward by, i think, 2, 3 hours. So we go to sleep later, and wake up later, and that’s the only way to get a healthy amount of sleep. My entire family also eats dinner super late, which might be because we’re weird, but I suspect the inner clock thing cuz we all got adhd.

-Object Impermanance. I hid my math homework one time. I failed that class.

-Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. Never trying, or starting cuz I’m so terrified to get a bad reaction. Constantly masking around certain people to appeal to the few of my Nuerotypical friends. Or, y’know, majority of my extended family. They’re ableist. and homophobic. And transphobic. And racist. and sexist. The list goes on, but, yeah. Never coming out to them! :D

-Masking. It’s exhausting and I can only handle so much of it.

-Not Masking around nuerotypicals. The shoot down after finally revealing my true thoughts, urges, feelings, stims, etc. just sucks. Super disheartening.

-Squirrel or shiny jokes when they’re made by people without adhd. Yes, I do get distracted by squirrels, and shiny things, and dice. Stop pointing it out, and/or putting me into yet another box of your labeling.

-saying that I’m lazy, worthless, or a disaster when really it’s not helping. I already have that internal monologue, you adding to it and giving it some truth/extra ammunition is not. helping.

-Emotional Dysregulation. Again, because mood swings. like, I’m trying to be rightfully angry with you. Stop making me laugh with you’re silly faces or pointing out of a weird face someone made in a picture you took.

-the stigma about the hyperactive subtype. I’m inattentive. I have No Energy. Ever. Sometimes i have restlessness, but there is still no energy. Stop portraying me as bouncing off the walls, especially with caffeine. Caffeine just catches my body speed up to my brain speed, settling me down a bit, at least mentally.

-people not getting when i say I’m overstimulated, or need some time alone to process or re-energize, and following me, or continuing to do the overstimulating thing. I will literally. lose. my. mind.

-when people shut me down after I share something that is really important to me, or make fun of me for liking something an “abnormal” amount. Flashbacks to overnight camp, when whenever I said anything about horses, they said I had to do five squats, and when i got really excited about discussing the differences in riding styles/types with another person who really liked horses, but rode english, they said that it was obnoxious, when i was just.. excited to finally find someone to talk to and who felt the same way after, basically, years and years of no one getting it or wanting to listen or talking with me about the thing. To this day I don’t discuss horses with anyone, cuz it hurts so much remembering that, and the fear of it happening again is still there.

-seeing other people be ashamed about their adhd and hesitant to mention until i talk, like, super openly about having it, in like, the first 5 minutes of knowing each other. It just.. hurts.

-I’m super empathetic, not in a way that’s helpful though. Like, wincing, or limping myself because I saw you drop something on your foot, and am imagining it so vividly that it feels like it happened to me. Reading a fic about abuse or depression, and it hitting too hard and hurting me almost physically, and on a personal level because I simply cannot handle it. Feeling someone else’s pain so vividly that i can’t comfort or help them in any way, because I am so preoccupied with feeling their pain.

-never being able to finish things without starting something else. All the WIPs in my google docs, istg, i will be driven insane by it.

(y’know, this was kinda fun. As a rant, but also as a way for me to identify things about myself and my adhd that i like. Like, I know its so much shorter, but I have a hard time with positive self affirmation, so it was kinda nice. I might do it again, but just the pros part cuz the cons are kinda depressing ngl.)

(OH, Y’all should reblog with your own personal pros added on! You can add cons if you’d like to :) I’m just interested in seeing how your experiences/feeling differ from mine :) )

#adhd #adhd life #executive dysfunction #positive affimation #but it's only the begining ig #i might delete positive affirmations #idk #pros and cons #pros and cons of my adhd #nuerodivergent #nuerodivergent friends are the best #i will elaborate at some point #I've been on tumblr too long

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lizaloveslevihan · 3 years

Note

if you have some angsty writing energy rn: hc where jean notices that hange hasn’t fully grieved or come to terms with erwin and moblit’ deaths, so he gets over his fear of levi to ask him with how to help hange because he’s so concerned for her

Title: Hange-san

Ao3 Link: Here

Notes: I also got some inspiration from this beautiful art I saw on Twitter.

They weren’t really close by any standards. Thinking about it, they probably just had two or three conversations the entire time Jean had known him. But his utter devotion was enough to catch anyone’s attention. If he wasn’t screaming at her to take care of herself, he did it silently by running each tiny errand and sticking with her like glue. He always walked by her side — shoulders hunched from obvious stress, hair a little unkempt, but hazel eyes as bright as ever, taking in every word she said despite the obvious dark circles underneath them. It was almost as if her personality and lifestyle were being injected into him, giving him life.

Jean hadn’t really understood the nature of their relationship before — couldn’t comprehend the idea of someone so willing to put up with Hange-san’s eccentricities and borderline craziness, day in and day out, especially given their slightly above average wages. It hadn’t seemed romantic at first glance by any means (he would have gotten a different vibe from them if it were the case) but rather, it was fueled and strengthened by a strong sense of loyalty and attentiveness. Those in the Survey Corps had dedicated their hearts to fighting titans and ensuring freedom for humanity, and though vice-captain Moblit Berner essentially did the same, it was as if a large chunk of his heart was dedicated only to Hange-san.

Jean paused, taking that new idea in. He stood outside the newly-appointed commander’s office, the journal he found tucked securely at his side. He had been hesitant to see her, especially after yesterday. She had asked him privately, eyes devoid of any emotion, tone full of anguish, if he could clean and clear out the former vice captain’s room. He understood her pain and had somehow expected this request — they were all grieving, having lost all those people — but he didn’t expect to feel pain over the task given to him.

His room was neat enough when Jean entered it yesterday morning. The bed was made, the shelves free of dust, and each article of clothing folded neatly inside his small closet. The only thing out of place was his desk which had mountains of paperwork that still lay on top of it.

He didn’t know him that well. They weren’t really close. But as Jean shuffled through and organized every piece of paper, every work of art, each sketch of an unfamiliar face, he felt his chest tightening. He vaguely remembered the vice-captain being an excellent artist, but he didn’t realize just how talented he was.

For some reason, he wasn’t surprised to see Hange-san’s face more so than the others. He had drawn her messy hair and wild eyes so perfectly that Jean felt as if he wasn’t worthy to even touch those pieces of paper. Some of them were hastily drawn, some with exquisite detail. He also saw sketches of her with captain Levi, and his eyes widened at one particular portrait where he was drawn gripping his teacup and smiling at her tenderly.

Damn it, Jean thought as he gingerly placed those papers back down on the desk. He would have loved to take lessons from the vice-captain if he only knew just how amazing he was. He had always been passionate about making art and drawing things he saw in his dreams back when he was younger. But of course, he had buried it in the face of reality. Seeing these sketches lit up a fire inside him. A fire that both consisted of his long-lost passion and the grief and sorrow he had tried to conceal ever since they returned from Shiganshina. He had looked around the room and let out a deep breath. No, he couldn’t allow himself to linger too much on those thoughts. He knew if he kept thinking about the warm, artistic vice-captain, he would be plunged into a deep abyss. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop seeing every single face that they lost, especially him. Especially that warm, freckled face full of joy and compassion. That face which had looked at him with so much respect and admiration.

Shaking his head, he forced his mind to turn blank. He started to stack all those papers neatly on top of one another, finally freeing the desk of its mess. However, that was what exactly led him to find the dreaded journal whose contents would continue to haunt him for the rest of the day.

Jean shook his head and looked up, staring at the door to her office. He had been plagued by those thoughts since that task. The commander had ordered him to drop all of his things in her office and so far Jean had made two trips without her being in there. He had a feeling, however, she was behind those doors this time around. He internally debated with himself if he should enter now or wait for her to go to town, seeing as she had a meeting with Zackley later today. However, before he could even decide, the door swung open. Jean jumped up, a little startled, and was met with captain Levi’s usual impassive expression.

“What are you doing here, Jean?” the captain asked, raising an eyebrow. He crossed his arms and lingered at the doorway.

“I, uh,” Jean started, scratching the back of his neck and trying to keep eye contact as much as possible, “I’m here to hand the commander some of—”

“It’s Hange,” the captain cut him off, now closing the door behind him. “I know you’re obligated to call her by that title, and that’s fine for formal occasions, but I want you to keep calling her what you and the other brats call her as much as possible, alright?”

The captain didn’t elaborate any further, which made Jean a little uneasy. He gripped the journal tighter and nodded. He already had a good feeling as to why he would ask such a thing.

“At ease,” the captain spoke quietly, placing a hand on Jean’s shoulder. “You and the brats did well.” Jean looked down and saw… pride? relief? emotions that weren’t normally seen behind the captain's light gray eyes. He allowed himself to briefly recall what had happened on the rooftop. How the captain kept moving forward despite all the pain and loss he endured was unbeknownst to Jean. But then again, that’s what all of them have been doing ever since they joined the Survey Corps, wasn’t it? Is this how his life would always be like? Taking in loss after loss and moving forward from each friend? Forced to kill others with no hesitation? Valuing certain lives and sacrificing others? Clearing out each empty bedroom after every mission? As he was nearing that dark abyss, the captain pulled him out by saying: “Don’t blame yourself with what happened with Reiner, alright? If I only had killed him before he transformed, maybe we wouldn’t have been in this goddamn mess.” the captain recalled briefly, shaking his head and scrunching his eyebrows, “Hange’s inside. Don’t linger too much. She still has a lot of things to do.” and with that, he made his way past Jean and went off across the hallway.

Jean couldn’t help but stare after the captain. He had already come to terms with the fact that it was him who let Reiner get away. That it had all been his fault. But here was the captain, who, the same as Hange-san, took the blame and responsibility for letting the armored and beast titan escape. He felt that it came from more than their positions as superior officers but from their genuine kindness. Their desire to look over everyone. He felt both comforted and pained because of it.

He also couldn't help but think of what the vice-captain had said about captain Levi in his journal...

He shook his head once again. They needed time. He needed time. He already had enough things to deal with because of the damn journal. With a deep sigh, he walked towards the commander’s office and knocked thrice on the door. After he heard a small, muffled “come in,” he pushed it open and was surprised to see her not behind her desk, but standing by the window, looking out at the training grounds across them.

“I’ve brought the last of his things, Hange-san,” Jean said as he closed the door behind him. When she didn’t respond, he shuffled his feet nervously and looked around the office. Bookshelves were covering both sides of the wall, a large desk pressed at the very back, littered with numerous paperwork and books, and the two large windows on either side of which. It felt a little stuffy if he were being completely honest. He had been to Hange-san’s lab before where things were much more chaotic and disorganized, but much more full of life. This place, well, felt like it didn’t belong to her at all.

Which was pretty much a given, considering she had just moved in. The place still embodied the late and great Erwin Smith.

After a few seconds passed, she finally turned around and flashed him a small smile.

It was obviously forced.

“Thank you, Jean,” she spoke, walking up to him and gently taking the journal from his outstretched hands. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she inspected the object. “I… forgot this existed.”

Jean simply nodded, not really knowing what to say. He still felt incredibly awkward.

The commander kept looking at the old, worn-out book as she took a seat behind her desk. She still hadn’t removed the bandages that covered her damaged eye. “This was what he always carried around whenever we did the experiments on those titans. Even if we weren’t doing them, actually. I remember him telling me how his life’s work was here, should he die in the field. How I should inherit it, on the assumption that I’d live longer than him…”

Jean would have had no problem with this conversation if only he didn’t open the book and flipped through the pages himself. Yes, he would be pained, but not as pained if he didn’t read through the long letters that the vice-captain had left in that book. If he hadn’t digested every tiny sketch and word. He had no business in doing so, perhaps he could even get punished should Hange-san find out what he had done, but he couldn’t help the curiosity that sparked within him. Only if he could turn back time. He wished he’d never read those letters. It was just too much.

“He… saved you, didn’t he Hange-san?” Jean muttered respectfully, his body incredibly stiff. She looked up at him, her face just so tired. “When Bertholdt transformed, he pushed you to safety…?”

“I knew it would come to that one day.” the commander said both wistfully and solemnly, “I’ve always been a handful. Careless. Absentminded. Reckless.” she listed off, drumming her fingers on the wooden desk, “I keep getting too close to the mouths of titans. I was more than okay with dying. Especially if it meant I had contributed one way or another to humanity’s freedom. There was this myth I had read before, you know? It was in a storybook meant for children to warn them to never leave the walls.”

At this, she stood up and started walking around the room. “It was a tale of this child who was given wings by his uncle, or was it his father? I couldn’t quite remember. They were trying to escape and leave this tower by flying away. The older man had warned him not to fly too close to the sun, but the boy, being this curious little thing, didn’t listen. Thus, his wings were burned and he fell to his death.” the commander laughed bitterly, her fingers trailing the bookshelves on the left side of the room, “He had always warned me not to fly too close to the sun, Jean. But I still did. Instead of me, it was him who suffered the consequences. It makes me wonder… what if one day, I’ll have this chance again? What if I fly, soaring through the clouds, and my recklessness or heroism or whatever the rest of you would call it, would cause me to fly too close to the sun?”

Jean wanted to leave. He didn’t like the words that were coming out of the commander’s mouth. He wanted to shut himself in his room and maybe sleep this whole thing off. He didn’t want to think about her dying, or anyone for that matter, especially after the loss they were still trying to deal with. That story upset him more than he realized, especially since it didn’t seem too far-fetched at this point, considering all the gruesome deaths he had seen. He knew it was the grief talking and the pressure from her new position, but still, it unnerved him to see someone he always knew was filled with life looking so dead inside.

“You meant a lot to him, Hange-san,” Jean replied, trying to keep the emotion from his voice. You meant a lot to him more than anyone in this world, if he were being completely honest. “We always want to keep the people we care about safe, sometimes even if it means sacrificing our lives. He will always live on, in you — in us. You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

Jean didn’t really know what he was saying — the words he uttered felt meaningless in the grand scheme of things — but he knew they were words that needed to be said. After reading those things, well, he felt as if he needed to give her as much assurance as possible.

The commander gave him a tight-lipped smile, her remaining eye tearing up. She approached him, and it was only then Jean finally noticed how she had a slight limp in her step. How her shoulders were tight and slumped forward. She placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded at him. “Thank you, Jean. You don’t know how much that means to me. You’re a great kid and I hope you know that you’ve proven to be an invaluable asset to not only the Survey Corps but to humanity as well. And,” Jean met her eye and his chest tightened once again in seeing it glimmer with a sense of pride, “thank you for cleaning Moblit’s room. I could have done it myself but…”

“I understand, Hange-san,” Jean said, his voice surprisingly reassuring despite the overwhelming amount of emotions he felt. She finally said his name. “I really do.”

The commander smiled a little brighter this time — the most genuine one yet, “Thank you.” and Jean felt that statement didn’t only apply to this situation. “Once we settle everything with Zackley, I’ll let you kids take a much-needed break. You mentioned your mother lives in Trost, is that right?”

“Yes, along with the rest of my family,” Jean replied, the prospect of seeing his mother again warming him up. He still wasn’t able to visit her due to the situation at hand, but he was eager to finally do so. He had always been reluctant in the past due to his embarrassment, but now he understood how superficial those fears were. He was so lucky, luckier than most, that he still had a family to go back to at the end of the day.

The commander nodded before squeezing his shoulder. “Make sure the rest of your squad finishes up their reports, alright? I want them on my desk tomorrow morning.”

“Understood, Hange-san.” Jean nodded in return, offering her a small smile.

She finally stepped away and Jean took this opportunity to carefully walk to the door. However before he could open it, the commander called him once more.

“Don’t blame yourself over anything, alright?” she said, crossing her arms, her voice now laced with a sense of authority, “It was always my decision. It was always my responsibility. I hope you remember that.”

He felt a knife pierce at his heart from her words — the same words the captain had told him no less than twenty minutes ago. He recalled the letters he had read from the vice captain’s journal and Jean couldn’t help but smile at the thought. He wondered briefly if he should get Hange-san to leave for her meeting with Zackley first before opening up the book and reading through everything in it, something Jean was sure she was going to do once he left her alone. But how could he possibly tell her without causing suspicion? How could he possibly tell her that whatever she was about to read could potentially break her? More so than she already was?

He couldn’t, because he shouldn’t have read those things in the first place. He shouldn’t have let his curiosity get the best of him. So instead, he simply nodded and quietly muttered a “thank you” before leaving.

He went down the other hallway to make sure he wouldn’t come across captain Levi. He needed to clear his thoughts before he could face them anytime soon. Jean wondered what his reaction would be if he read those letters as well. He let out a large sigh. Either way, it couldn’t possibly be as bad as Hange-san’s.

*******

The next couple of days had been surprisingly normal enough. They had filed reports, went into countless meetings after the other to discuss the situation regarding what they had found in Shiganshina, all the while still sending letters to each family who had lost a member in the battle. He didn’t see much of the commander other than the times they had to present themselves to Zackley, during which she acted completely fine — delivering each line with that of a smooth and authoritative manner. Other than that, she was gone — either in her office or delivering each letter of condolence personally. When he heard of that, his respect for her had grown even more immensely. She was an unbelievably kind and compassionate leader, and Jean felt even more honored to be working with her.

The promised day-off eventually came. Hange-san could only give everyone three days, seeing as recruits were going to be entering the Corps soon which meant Jean and the rest of his friends had to work on training them. Either way, he was glad to be getting some time to spend with his family. His mother was for sure going to dote on him to no end, but surprisingly, he was looking forward to it.

Already dressed in his civilian attire with his carry-on pack by his shoulder, Jean made his way to the commander’s office once more to inform them of his departure. He had visited Sasha earlier at the hospital and was pleased to know that she would be discharged later today and would be going to her family straight after. He offered to wait for her and drop her off himself, still wary of her injury, but Connie had offered to do it in his place. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin having no place to go opted to go around town for the day, and Floch had already left to visit his own family which basically meant Jean was the only one left in headquarters.

He finally rounded the corner and was about to knock on the old wooden door when he heard a loud crash followed by a screaming match. He immediately stepped back, feeling his blood run cold at the sounds. Only two people could possibly be behind those doors, and he didn’t like that he was hearing any of these things right now. He was lucky that the doors were thick enough to muffle the details of their conversation or their screaming match, but he still picked up on certain sentences.

“He would know exactly what to do next!”

“You’re not supposed to be him! Don’t you understand that?!”

Should I just leave? Make a run for it? Hange-san would surely understand, Jean thought to himself, panic building up in his chest. He recalled that time in his childhood where his parents would fight over food or jobs or whatever adults had fought about. He always felt uncomfortable and disheartened, thinking his parents hated each other and would never get along again. He didn’t like seeing the ugly things that had transpired between them. However, before he could even decide, the door suddenly slammed open, but this time, instead of captain Levi, Hange-san came out, walking briskly and angrily. She didn’t even notice Jean standing there and moved past him, shoulders scrunched together, a frustrated hand running through her already messy hair.

“Oi! Hange!” captain Levi exclaimed, suddenly appearing by the door frame, running a hand through his hair as well. The bags under his eyes were deeper, as usual, his cravat loose around his neck. His cheeks were slightly flushed, but it was obvious it was not in a good way. He was about to kick the door frame when he finally noticed Jean.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

His voice was a little hoarse, and a chill ran down Jean’s spine as he took all of it in. This was too personal, this was none of his business, and so why was he getting roped in again?

“I was just about to report my departure to Hange-san—”

“Well, she’s obviously not here anymore,” the captain cut off in frustration, his eyes narrowing up at him. Jean didn’t like how he was seeing a new side to captain Levi, didn’t like seeing him so frustrated and lost. “Goddamnit what have I done…” he muttered to himself.

Jean could have just told him he was leaving. He could have just nodded and excused himself, headed straight to the stables, and made his way back to Trost. They would eventually forget about this incident as it would cool down, and all would be well.

But Jean remembered the letters. He remembered those words. He remembered her tired, broken expression from days ago. Jean knew what it was like to be a leader — to have people look up to you and count on you. He knew how it felt to think you weren't good enough, to think you weren’t special and how people shouldn’t trust you because you lacked certain skills or that you weren’t perfect enough. He looked at the captain, stared right into those intimidating gray eyes, and felt a surge of confidence within him.

“Captain, you know her better than anyone else,” Jean spoke, reiterating the Moblit Berner’s words, “What can I do to help her?”

The captain was slightly taken aback by Jean’s words. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, studying him carefully. “Why are you—”

“Because I care about her.” Jean said firmly, “And I respect her. And I want to help.”

Captain Levi simply stared at him. Jean would be lying if he said he didn’t feel awkward. They were still soldiers, after all. Captain Levi was still his superior officer, and having heart-to-heart conversations was something they didn’t essentially do. There wasn’t any room for sharing feelings — it opened up vulnerability and that was something you couldn’t have out in the field. Especially since the battlefield they now had was much wider than before.

Jean was prepared to get shrugged off. He was prepared to leave without getting any answers. But the captain had sighed, fixed the cravat around his neck, and spoke softly: “Come inside.”

It was now Jean’s turn to be taken aback. Nevertheless, he followed the captain inside and was even more taken aback by the sight in front of him.

The commander’s desk and seat were turned upside down, forcibly, he presumed, with books and papers scattered around it. He stopped in the middle of the room and heard the captain sigh as he closed the door behind him. “Help me fix this shit, Jean. I can’t have this lying around here.”

Jean didn’t ask any more questions. He already knew the answers as to how this had happened. He wanted to know why, of course, to satisfy his curiosity, but at the same time, he didn’t. He dropped his satchel on the floor and proceeded to pick up the scattered papers and books, making sure not to step on them as much as possible. The captain also did the same, kneeling down and gathering everything in his arms. Once they were finished, they placed everything on the corner of the room, underneath the right window, and started to turn the desk upright once more. Jean took one side, the captain taking the other, and together they lifted and placed it back where it had originally sat. After which, Jean took the chair and pushed it back against it while the captain took the books and paper and placed everything neatly the desk. They worked in silence the entire time — the friction from their fight or whatever had happened in here a few moments ago, still lingered and Jean was afraid to pierce through it.

“I had served under two commanders,” the captain said suddenly as he filed through each piece of paper. Jean looked up and stared at him. “Shadis was alright — you already know most of his story anyway, but he was still a good leader. He had the drive, but still lacked some of the talents. And then Erwin came along…”

Captain Levi let out a deep sigh as he started inserting some of the papers in between the pages of a book. “Erwin... was a special man. He was one of the greatest assets to humanity. I don’t think I really need to tell you any more now, do I?”

He was right. Erwin Smith had been a special man. He was one of the greatest minds Jean had ever seen. He was an incredible strategist, an inspirational and respectable figure — all that and more. He had a feeling, however, that it wasn’t really about that. Jean was sure the captain just didn’t want to talk about him in general, at the moment. And really, who could blame him? Especially after what had happened on the rooftop?

Jean shook his head and looked down. A few tense seconds passed before the captain continued: “He never made any miscalculations. We all had a feeling Hange would be next in line and we had been right. Hange was the only one who had stood up to him, the one to push forward ridiculous and extreme ideas that could have gotten all of us killed. She thought differently and wanted to look at things from a different perspective. Hange…” at this, Jean looked up to see the captain’s expression light up, “was always the best choice. All of us knew this. All of us but her.”

He sighed and started to mindlessly look through some of the books now. “It’s not easy, being in her position. She thinks she doesn’t deserve it. But she does. I’ve been with Hange for a long time now, Jean. I know you brats are there, but we’re the only ones who just… have each other left. She was there when I had first entered the Corps and had been with me ever since. But Erwin and Moblit? They had been with her way before I was ever in the picture.”

It was the first time he had mentioned the vice captain’s name, and Jean had to stop himself from thinking too much about the letters again. One would think he’d get over it at this point, but it was much harder than he thought.

He continued once more: “Anyway, I’ve never been good with this shit, Jean. But you brats are just real nosey, huh?” he said, and Jean couldn’t tell if he was being serious or playful — maybe both. “The truth is, you being concerned and sticking your nose up to where it doesn’t belong is already helpful. You being here, following each command, and being the leader that you are is helpful. Just by staying alive, you’re already helpful. You, well, you’re already fucking helpful if you ask me. Hange knows this, and it may not look like it, but she’s thankful for all the little shit you and the brats do.”

It had taken him a few seconds to fully understand what the captain had meant, but he eventually did. Jean didn’t know what kind of answer he was expecting, but those words flowed through his heart and made him feel good inside. He didn’t realize he was already doing enough. He was just doing the bare minimum, wasn't he? But the captain had a point. If he continued to stay by their side, to stay by Hange-san’s side and follow her wherever she had lent them, then it could help erase the doubts she had regarding her position. Just by staying alive, he was helping her feel better. Just by being there for as long as possible — just like Moblit and Erwin, like captain Levi — was enough.

But he also had a feeling that the captain didn’t want him, or any of his friends, to worry about their situation. He couldn’t explain it, but those were just the sort of parents did for their children. And though Jean would probably never admit it, Hange-san and the captain were quickly stepping up to be parental figures to them already.

The captain finally took out a single piece of paper from the stacks and held it up slightly. Jean saw it had been the sketch of him and Hange-san, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Vice-captain Moblit was really talented, wasn’t he?” Jean finally spoke up. The captain nodded in front of him and traced the outline of Hange-san’s smiling face on paper.

Captain Levi’s lips twitched a little upright. “He really was.”

*******

Though the journey back home was a long and tedious one, Jean was grateful to have had the time to himself to ponder on his thoughts. Captain Levi ordered him, or was it a friendly suggestion? not to speak about this to Hange-san. He then parted to look for her which enabled Jean to finally leave.

He thought a lot about the letters, about the myth Hange-san had told him days ago, about the captain’s words, and even about the late commander Erwin.

The sun was setting when he had arrived home. As he passed through the neighborhood he grew up in, he couldn't help but feel both excited and terrified. The threat of the titans was now over, right? But now they were facing an even bigger menace. Would his home be safe? Would the people they had fought so long to protect inside the walls be safe?

“Jean-boy!”

He turned and saw her face. She stood at the front of their house which surprisingly looked the same after all this time. She was excitedly waving her hand, and once he got closer, he saw that tears were falling from her eyes. Once he stopped in front of her, he quickly dismounted his horse and enveloped him in her arms.

“You’ve grown so big! Oh my boy!” she exclaimed, clutching the back of his shirt and pressing her face against his chest. Jean hugged her back eagerly and tried his best not to let his emotions take over. But it had been a long couple of days. His body still ached from the battle, his brain was consumed by too many thoughts, and his heart still grieved the lives of all of the people they had lost. He couldn’t believe he had taken her warmth and comfort for granted so many times. Who did he think he was, trying to shove her out of his life because he didn’t want to be embarrassed?

“I’m home, mom,” he said, finally closing his eyes and inhaling her scent. She laughed happily before disentangling herself a little, looking up at him to study his face. Her eyes were watery, the lines around them having deepened. Her hair also started to have gray streaks and Jean felt his heart ache at the sight of her much older form. “I have your favorite already waiting for you in the kitchen. I also cleaned your room so you better change and wash up before we eat dinner, alright? I’m so glad you’re here my Jean-boy.” she said, hugging him again.

He truly was home.

*******

A wave of nostalgia hit him the moment he had entered his childhood room. True to her word, everything was neat and tidy. His bed was made, desk free of any clutter, and the window was left a little open to let some of the breezes go in. He exhaled, closing the door behind him and moving to lay on his bed. He was both physically and emotionally exhausted and wanted nothing more now than to close his eyes and sleep. He wondered what the others were doing at this very moment. They had been through together so much that it felt weird not to have any of them near him. It was probably the first time in a long time he was going to sleep in his bed, in his own room, without anyone else around. Letting out a deep sigh, he willed himself to stand up, grab the satchel he had brought with him, and place the contents atop his desk.

As he rummaged through his things, he wondered if there was something he still could do for Hange-san. Though he took the captain’s words to heart, he couldn’t help but feel like doing something for her either way. Something that wasn’t too outrageous that would give her the wrong idea. Something that he himself would do, something that was uniquely his. Afterall, the captain said that just by doing what he did, he would be able to help. He eventually found his answer when he opened one of the drawers of his desk and found his old sketches and art supplies from long ago.

He immediately stopped what he was doing and gingerly took out his old artworks. The passion he felt was still there, tingling the back of his neck as he stared at the portrait of the woman he had seen in his dreams. His lips tightened as he realized that the woman he had drawn resembled Mikasa so much. He really only had eyes for her from the very beginning, huh? Shaking his head, he looked through some of his old work and realized then and there exactly what he needed to do.

He may not be as good as the vice-captain, but it was the least he could do. Besides, maybe once he went through with this little project, he would finally be able to release all his thoughts about this matter. He was relieved to see there was still some paper and pencils left. Nodding his head, he closed the window, placed the papers back down, and proceeded to change into a cleaner and much more comfortable shirt. He’ll have time to do this later after dinner. But for now, there some much-needed time to be spent with his family.

*******

He found himself back in front of the commander’s office once again, days later. This time, he carried with him two scrolls of paper. He stopped and listened intently, making sure no one was arguing behind the doors before knocking.

He let himself in the moment he heard Hange-san’s voice. She was seated behind her desk, finally sporting a dark patch on her injured eye. “Ah, welcome back, Jean. Did you need anything from me?” she asked as Jean closed the door behind him.

“I just came by to drop some things off for you, Hange-san,” he spoke lightly, feeling incredibly nervous. He scratched the back of his head as he approached her quietly.

She looked so much better this time around. She had discarded her military coat and her bolo tie was tied securely around her neck for the world to see. Her glasses were impeccably clean and gleamed when she looked up at him, her hair nicely framing her face. She seemed much more relaxed, and it didn’t feel like when she was going through meetings and such where she acted fine. This time, she actually did look genuinely alright and at peace.

Jean wondered how she and the captain had spent those three days. He had a feeling, once again, that they had spent it together. He could tell that the captain had something to do with the improved state she was currently in. Either way, Jean was happy to see her like this.

“I… had seen vice-captain Moblit’s sketches,” Jean started right off at the bat, not wanting to make a bigger deal out of this than it already was. He saw more than the sketches, of course, but she didn’t need to know that. The commander didn’t look upset or surprised, which made Jean continue: “And I had been sort of an artist too, you see, but obviously not as good as him.”

He carefully handed her the two scrolls of paper, and she raised an eyebrow before taking it from his grasp. “When I returned home and saw my old work, I realized that I wanted to do something for you, Hange-san. No one put me up to this, and I hope, for my sake, you don’t tell the others.”

He added that last part, a light blush dusting his cheeks. If any of his friends found out about his old hobby, they would tease him to no end and demand to see some of his old work.

She carefully inspected the two scrolls before putting down the second one and gingerly opening the first. She gasped, her hand flying straight to her mouth as she looked on and stared at the portrait in front of her.

“Oh Jean…” she said, her voice cracking with emotion, “I can’t believe you did this.”

Jean had a pretty good memory of things. He remembered the vice captain’s worried, concerned face. He remembered the former commander’s authoritative expression. And of course, how could he forget captain Levi’s tiny smirk or Hange-san’s bright eyes?

It felt awkward, putting those visions on paper. He felt his heart clench at the sight of his portraits. But he powered through, and Hange-san’s expression made it all worth it.

She traced her fingers over the etched lines. She lingered, he noticed, over commander Erwin’s and vice-captain Moblit’s face. She smiled and laughed brightly as tears now streamed from her remaining eye. Jean had drawn them all together, side by side, arms around one another. It had been a product of his imagination, but he had to admit it wasn’t as bad as he thought.

“Why? How?” she said, her voice breaking. She placed down the paper and gently removed her glasses to wipe some of the tears from her face.

Jean looked down and shuffled his feet, “He never really had any portraits of all of you together. I thought well, that shouldn’t be the case.”

“Do I even want to know what’s in the other one?” she said teasingly before clearing her throat and putting her glasses back on. Her smile was absolutely infectious, and Jean was happy it was seemingly etched permanently onto her face.

“I think you do,” he said, clearing his throat as well. That particular portrait was the first one he had finished, and he loved how it had turned out. He was also grateful for the creative outlet. He had to admit, he missed indulging in these kinds of things. Who knew when the next time he’d be able to do something like this again?

Hange-san laughed — a bright and beautiful melody that continued to light up the room. She shifted her attention to the unopened scroll, picked it up, and proceeded to unroll it. However, unlike the first one, she remained silent, her eyes widening at the sight. A few minutes had passed before she pursed her lips, her fingers shaking a little, before rolling it back up and setting it back down on her desk. She studied Jean carefully, and he could tell that perhaps she was picking up on the idea that he may have read those letters. Nevertheless, she stood up, shook her head, and quickly strolled to him and hugged him.

“Thank you, Jean,” she said after a few seconds, and Jean allowed himself to snake his hands behind her and hug her back. He closed his eyes and a small part of him reprimanded himself for being so soft, for sticking his nose into other people’s business, for doing all of these rather embarrassing things. But life was short. He needed to express his feelings to others before it was too late. He needed to tell people he cared about them before it was too late. He felt the magnitude of her gratitude from those small, common words. From the way she had tightly clutched the back of his shirt. They pulled away — the hug being a rather brief and short thing, just as captain Levi entered the room.

“What are you two doing?” he asked, closing the door behind him and crossing his arms. Jean turned around to see a curious and wary expression on his face. Hange-san laughed behind him, and Jean then and there witnessed how the captain softened at the sound. His shoulders relaxed, his lips parted slightly, and his eyes gleamed in wonder.

“Nothing,” Hange-san sang as she approached him. “Are you ready to go?”

“The horses are already waiting for us,” the captain said gruffly, but Jean could tell he was pleasantly surprised by the commander’s tone and attitude. “What are you and Jean—”

“I’ll tell you later, okay?” she spoke heartily, moving to grab her civilian coat from the coat stand by the door. “We’ll be meeting with some of the press, alright Jean? We’ll be back later tonight. I believe Levi over here is planning on cooking for everyone.”

“Oi! That was supposed to be a secret!” the captain exclaimed, his eyes sneering at her. Hange-san shrugged before approaching Jean and laying a hand on his shoulder. She smiled at him once again which Jean reciprocated. She whispered another “thank you” before patting his head affectionately. “Please don’t tell the others, Hange-san,” he spoke quietly, only for her to hear.

“I won’t.” she assured, “But you have to know that I can’t keep anything from this grump right here,” she said, her head tilting towards the captain’s direction.

“What are you idiots talking about?” the captain eyed suspiciously, moving to approach them.

“I know.” Jean scoffed, his eyes gleaming. Hange-san nodded before swiftly looping her arm around the captain’s and dragging him out the room. “Come on! We’re going to be late!”

Jean followed them out the door and saw their figures moving down the hallway. Captain Levi stopped her suddenly as if asking her once again what she and Jean had been doing. The commander laughed before patting his head affectionately which then made the captain gently kick her leg. He then started to inspect her coat, straightening it out before buttoning the front. Jean shook his head at the soft and sweet gesture in front of him. He looked back inside the office to where the drawings he had and quietly went back in and approached the desk.

He carefully lifted the second scroll and opened it. He didn’t really know what kind of reaction he was expecting from Hange-san, but so far she didn’t really give away anything obvious. He was certain that she had read those letters. But it felt as if she just wanted to move on from them, and thinking about it, that would be the best course of action wasn’t it?

He stared at the portrait. They weren’t really close by any standards. Thinking about it, they probably just had two or three conversations the entire time Jean had known him. But his utter devotion was enough to catch anyone’s attention. Jean hoped he was able to catch them and had translated it properly on paper. There were hundreds of sketches of Hange-san and everyone else, but there weren’t any of just them together. He had drawn him the way he knew him — face scrunched up in concern as he looked onto her. He had a hand placed on her shoulder, and Hange-san was laughing at whoever was in front of her.

Slowly, with his other hand that wasn’t holding the portrait, Jean placed a fist over his heart in a salute.

Thank you for dedicating your heart.

*******

Dear Buntaichou,

I’ve decided to start writing to you like this in the event I should get a heart attack and die from your irresponsibility. I also needed to let out my frustration through a healthy matter. I really don’t understand as to why you would charge headfirst into a forest, all by yourself, and try to capture a titan. How you managed to get away with screaming at the commander and still having all your limbs attached today is a miracle. I’m glad Captain Levi and his squad were able to intervene and help stop you from getting eaten. I’m glad you’re okay. At this time, you’re currently locked in your room, devouring whatever is inside the notebook you found. Maybe you’ll finally be able to convince commander Erwin with your discoveries? Still, you could have died. No matter how much I try to stop you, you always try and go at it, huh?

That was so very stupid of you. How are you so brilliant and stupid at the same time?

— Moblit

*******

Dear Buntaichou,

DID YOU REALLY ALMOST FALL OFF THE WALL?! I’m so glad my grandmother forbade me to curse because I would have exclaimed a variety of colorful language at you during that entire situation.

It was our first test run of your titan capturing method, and all would have been well if you weren’t leaning too far and, I don’t know, SLIPPED?

It was a good thing captain Levi had incredible reflexes and had gotten to you just in time. He seems very attuned to whenever you put yourself in danger, isn’t he? I could have sworn he was just waiting for something bad to happen. I also could have sworn I was going to get a heart attack then and there.

Why are you so reckless and stupid? Great, now I feel bad for calling you that. But hey, I need to let it out, okay? Don’t take it personally. But then again, captain Levi pretty much calls you that daily and you seem to find it endearing.

I’m also so worried about when we start experimenting on titans. By the walls, you’re not going to make it easy for me, are you? Just please don’t die.

— Moblit

*******

Dear Buntaichou,

I knew you weren’t going to make things easy for me. I have to admit, you giving names to those titans was pretty strange — but it was still rather cute. Only if you weren’t going crazy about it.

I feel like I say that as if it’s a new thing. But then again, back in our training days, you were relatively calm. You always indulge yourself in books and go out of your way to try and learn new things. Those were nice and calm days, weren’t they? You’ve always piqued my interest from the very beginning especially since you were the only one who pronounced our instructor’s name wrong.

Why am I bringing this up? Anyway, if this is the last letter you read it means that I was eaten by Albert or whoever that other titan was. We can’t afford to lose you, you know? That’s one of the things I’ve learned so far anyway. That some lives in the Survey Corps matter more than the others, and I would gladly get eaten by a titan if it means you’d live another day.

I don’t mean to make you feel guilty or anything of the sort. This is just how I feel.

— Moblit

*******

Dear Buntaichou,

How do you do it? It seems you’re the only person (besides commander Erwin, well, it’s a given) who has full control over captain Levi. You’ve managed to persuade him to capture a titan for you, and though he complained about it, he still did it anyway.

Since you’ll never get these letters while I’m still alive, I can probably be as honest as possible.

I think that he has feelings for you.

Now, I hope by the time you read this, he’s made it obvious to you by then. And I know it seems like a stretch, cause well, he’s captain Levi and everything and he doesn’t seem like he’s capable of those types of emotions, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you.

I think it started when you ran off to the forest and he followed you. I read the reports of what had happened, and it seemed he was really shaken. We also work a lot with their squad, so there’s a lot of room for things to blossom then I suppose.

I know I sound incredibly foolish. And I’m telling you right now, I’m completely sober as I write this. But it’s just something I can tell, something that doesn’t seem too far-fetched. He cares about you a lot.

Now I need a drink. I don’t know what’s going on with me.

— Moblit

*******

Dear Buntaichou,

I think you have feelings for captain Levi.

This is an even more outrageous claim than the one in my previous entry, and because I’m always glued to your side, I feel like I know more than others do.

It’s been a while since I wrote my thoughts on here. It’s been a rough couple of days? Weeks? I forgot. So much has happened. I don’t want to delve too much into the details but essentially, we had engaged with the female titan outside the walls, then inside Stohess district, then the armored and colossal titan. I also finished investigating Ragako — Connie Springer’s village. I haven’t had enough rest these days. A lot of us haven’t. And though I feel incredibly exhausted and want to make use of these couple of days of peace before we head onto Trost, I felt like jotting some of the things I had witnessed between you and the captain.

I know this is really silly of me. But forgive me again, this is the only outlet I have. Don’t worry, I’ve already jotted down the important findings in the middle pages of this journal/sketchbook. But I’m starting to feel things myself. Feelings I didn’t know I could feel either.

Anyway, you had visited him when he was still in the hospital, getting some treatment for his injured leg. You had dismissed me that day, saying you were going to him.

I also had caught you lending him one of your jackets. And though he had protested, he still eagerly wore it.

Not to mention the number of times I had caught you making tea for him. How did I know? Well, no one else touched the tin of black tea in the mess hall but Captain Levi. So it had been an easy assumption.

There are a lot more instances, but I can’t seem to bring myself to put them on paper. I don’t know why — maybe there are just too many, maybe I just don’t want to recall them. I think maybe both.

Either way, it seems as if you two have feelings for one another now. I’m glad. I’m also glad that you’re okay, that you’re alive, that you’re still here. Hopefully, that will continue to last long.

— Moblit

*******

Dear Hange-san,

I think… that this will be my last letter.

I know it’s been a long time since I last updated this series of letters (we haven’t exactly had a lot of free time) and as we are preparing to return to Shiganshina, I felt the need to address everything here and now. Seeing as there’s a high probability I might not make it back.

The moment I first met you back when we were cadets in the Training Corps, you had captured my attention almost immediately. Your hair had been way shorter back then so there wasn’t any need to tie it up into a ponytail. Other than that, your eyes always remained bright, your laugh was always infectious. When you had told me back then how you wanted to see the world beyond the walls, I had thought you to be crazy. My family had always wanted me to enlist in the Garrison, especially since I had a lot of relatives there. But the moment you started talking about what life could be like, about different plants and trees, about different types of animals — the way you had smiled up at me and used your hands excessively to discuss your points — I knew then and there that I would follow you wherever you went.

Going into the Survey Corps was absolutely terrifying. But being with you, helping you, and staying by your side had made it worth it.

The amount of times you almost died, the amount of times you had put yourself in danger is just too much to count. The number of times you had made me worried — well, let’s just say I’m glad my heart didn’t suffer any complications. Or maybe it has and I just don’t know.

Seriously, you’re too reckless sometimes, you know? But I can’t help but admire you still. You do it because you desire to change because you want to understand our natural enemies. You’re the only one I’ve met who thinks that way, and people have mentioned more than once that you’re really crazy, and perhaps they’re right, but you’re also the most brilliant of all of them combined.

And because of this, you have captured my heart.

I’m sure there are more reasons, but I can’t find it in me to talk about all of them. I don’t know why this happened, how this happened, or if I was too obvious. But knowing you, you probably wouldn’t know if someone had romantic feelings for you even if it hit you straight in the face. After all, this is exactly what’s going on between you and captain Levi.

I know for certain now that he loves you. I had a hunch before, but I know now. I could tell by the nicknames he gave you, from how angry he was when you fell during our battle, how he went to visit you, multiple times, after that incident. How when he sees me alone in the corridor or something, he always asks about you. How in every mission we go, he always looks at you, as if he’s engraving your image into his memory should one of you not make it. How he captured a titan for you. How he knows how you take your tea and how he always goes to your side for comfort. How he basically forces you to take a bath. How he just knows you and understands your entirety as a human being.

It all makes sense now. I suppose, if you didn’t pay attention much to it, you’d think it was something else entirely. Just a comrade looking out for another comrade. But his eyes, oh his eyes always say otherwise. He loves you and I hope by the time you read this, you’re well aware of that fact.

And I also hope you’re well aware that you love him too.

I could tell by how you tease him almost to no end. By how you always talk about him, either positively or negatively. How you just know when he's around as if you have a keen sense just for him. How you translate his words for others (he’s not very good at those). How even when he’s fuming angry or irritated, you seem to be the only one who can get him to calm down. How you had visited him multiples times after his injury. How you just knew all that information about him living with Kenny the Ripper as if you two had discussed the life he had led before. How you know exactly how he takes his tea. How you always make it a point to celebrate his birthday despite our lack of funds. How you just know him and trust him so well.

You love him, Hange-san. You love him so much. Dare I say you love him as equally if not more as your titans and your research. What you two have is something so special I doubt anyone inside the walls has the same kind of bond.

I wanted that with you.

You both deserve happiness together. But I know that’s not possible. Especially with the world we live in.

I just wanted you to know this before it’s too late. I want you to know that should I never come back by your side, that you always have him. That he treasures you. Perhaps… even more than I do.

Enclosed in this journal are all the findings in research we collected through the years. And so are these letters. And so are some… portraits I had done myself. I hope you like them.

If you’re reading this, then that means you have survived and may or may not be the new commander. Hange-san, I hope you remember that you are life itself, that you are so brilliant and amazing, and that you continue to give others an inexpressible joy. You have enriched my life (despite almost killing me multiple times). I know you will do a fantastic job as commander. That’s because, well, you’re you. You’re Hange. I wish I could elaborate more but it is what it is.

There’s so much more I want to say. So much more I want to tell you. But there isn’t any time nor can I bring myself to put any of it on paper. You also should be expecting me on the training grounds in a couple of minutes from now to continue Eren’s experiments. So I suppose, I’ll just leave you with this:

… I love you.

Sincerely, Moblit Berner.

59 notes · View notes

happyandticklish · 3 years

Text

Experiment Gone Wrong

Summary: Izaya decides to conduct an experiment to test humanity’s morality, but forgets to factor Shizuo into his calculations.

Contrary to what most would be led to believe, Shizuo was a morning person. He enjoyed strolling the busy streets of Ikebukuro, unusually abandoned in the early twilight of morning. Everything was quiet and he could finally be left alone with his thoughts. His hands were buried in his pockets and he stopped for a moment, closing his eyes to revel in it.

“Good morning, Shizu-chan~!”

Shizuo’s eyes snapped open, his peace and quiet gone. He spun towards the sound of the voice, his hands already curling into fists. The sight he was greeted with, however, was so absurd that for a moment he almost forgot his anger.

Izaya was pinned against one of the many lampposts littering the town, rope curling up his legs and torso. The bondage ended in both his wrists and ankles, each of which had additional rope further securing him fully and completely to the pole. His arms were raised far above his head, his body stretched taut against the pole. The barest hint of his stomach peeked out as his shirt was raised from the position.

Izaya himself seemed unconcerned about the position. “I didn’t peg you as someone who goes on walks. Enjoying the beautiful morning as well?”

“What are you doing?” Shizuo growled, ignoring his words. Somehow the sight of Izaya so vulnerable made him even angrier; like fate was taunting him or something. “Why are you tied to a pole, flea bastard?”

Izaya arched an eyebrow. “This? This is merely a science experiment, my dear Shizuo. I wanted to see what people would do if they found someone in a helpless situation such as this. See, I am perfectly aware of all the downgrades of humanity, but I wanted to see it to its full extent: when faced with someone who is so completely vulnerable, will people choose to help or to take advantage of the situation?”

Shizuo slowly walked towards him, stopping just a few feet away. He glanced up and down, unimpressed. “You know, this is possibly the stupidest thing you have ever done.” He grinned, shaking his head. “I mean, what’s your plan if someone does take advantage of you?”

“I have Shinra on look-out,” Izaya replied breezily, twisting a bit to get comfortable. His shirt rode up further and Shizuo felt something twinge inside him. He clenched his fists, trying not to let it get to him. “He and Celty will of course step in if anything gets too out of hand.” Hidden inside of his palm, invisible to Shizuo, was a button that, should he press it, would immediately alert Shinra that he was in distress. “Why?” He smiled cheekily. “Are you worried about me?”

“As if I’d be worried about worthless scum like you,” Shizuo scoffed, but his real answer was clear from the way he couldn’t meet Izaya’s eyes.

“Aw, you were!” Izaya cooed. “That’s adorable, really, but I can handle myself.”

Shizuo frowned, slowly circling the pole. Izaya watched him with a pleasant expression all the while, eyebrows raised in expectation. Shizuo stopped behind him, his eyes trained on the other man’s exposed hips. He was finding it incredibly distracting for some reason.

“While I appreciate the attention, I do have to ask you what you are doing—”

Izaya broke of suddenly, slamming his mouth shut. Shizuo’s hands now rested on his hips where just a moment ago they had been digging into the slender skin. “Interesting,” he murmured. “So you are ticklish.”

“I am what?” Izaya demanded irritably. He shifted under his hands, trying to ignore the way his skin buzzed nervously, an aftereffect of the earlier touch. “I am going to have to ask you to let go of me.”

“I thought you could handle yourself,” Shizuo pointed out, grinning as the reality of their situation set in. He drummed his fingers against the other’s sides, enjoying the way it made Izaya squirm.

“I can,” Izaya snapped. “Obviously.”

“Then make me let go of you,” Shizuo said, squeezing his hips once more. “Get out of the ropes. Call for help.”

Izaya’s face contorted as he fought not to laugh. He tugged at the rope, hoping to do just that, but very quickly realized just how tight Shinra had tied the knots. He twisted around for a bit, hoping to shimmy out of them, but as they crossed over his torso, legs, wrists, and ankles, escape was veritably impossible. That left only one option—he had to wait Shizuo out. If he could hold out long enough to convince the blond that he wasn’t ticklish, maybe he would let him go.

He had endured far worse than this. Surely he could handle a little bit of tickling.

For the first thirty seconds Izaya managed to tense up his body and breathe through his nose as Shizuo experimentally poked up and down his torso. It tickled, but not as much as it could; he had a feeling Shizuo was just toying with him for right then. Because Izaya was Izaya, however, he could not resist throwing out a couple of taunts as Shizuo continued his search.

“Why are you so interested in tickling me, anyway?” Izaya asked, his cheeks flushing a bit at the word. Luckily Shizuo was behind him and didn’t notice. “Isn’t that a bit childish?”

“Yeah, well, you’re basically an adult child anyway,” Shizuo snarked, his pokes growing more calculated as time grew on, so that each one sent a shock through Izaya’s nervous system. “Besides, I think you being ticklish is nice; it’s like a reminder that you’re actually human like the rest of us.”

“I resent that i-implication,” Izaya retorted, flinching as Shizuo needled the spot right under his ribs. “And like I said, I am not ti—”

His sentence was interrupted by wild and sudden laughter as Shizuo decided in that moment to stop fooling around. He crawled his fingers around his sides to his exposed stomach and started rapidly spidering his fingers over the bare skin. His touch was light enough so as not to be painful, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still tickle like hell.

Izaya was very embarrassed to hear the stream of giggles falling from his lips, an unfortunate reaction to that spot. If he had been free to curl up or been given free use of his hands, Izaya might have been able to stop himself from reacting so violently. As it was, he found himself quickly dissolving at the rapid movements from Shizuo’s skilled hands.

“Not what?” Shizuo asked, switching to just one hand so he could cup the other around his ear. “Not ticklish? Is that what you were going to say?”

“I-Ihihihi’m nohohot!” Izaya insisted, his face going bright pink as he fought to resist his body’s natural reactions. “I’m l-laughing ahahat you, y-you ohohoaf!”

“Mm-hmm,” Shizuo hummed, grinning. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Inwardly, Izaya thrummed with a strange, excited energy and he found that he almost didn’t want the other to stop. He decided to dismiss these feelings as laughter-induced delirium.

As much as Izaya was struggling, it was evident that his stomach was not his worst spot and Shizuo wanted to take full advantage of this perfect situation. He slid his hands down so that nails fluttered lightly against Izaya’s hips, causing the other man to splutter over his laughter. He allowed him to linger for a moment in the feather-light sensations before squeezing harshly, his thumbs digging into the bone.

Izaya yelped, his struggling instantly intensifying. “HAHAhaha, w-whahahait, nohohohoho, dohohon’t!” He tugged desperately at his arms, but they refused to come to his aid. He banged his head back against the pole in frustration, arching as much as the ropes allowed him. “Fuhuhuhuhuck!”

“Don’t? So keep going then.” Shizuo was reveling in this display. He had never heard Izaya laugh before, only receiving derisive chuckles or snorts of incredulity. Eyebrows drawn down in helpless desperation, Izaya’s face was the picture of surrender, a surrender to a sensation greater than himself, and the bubbly laughter ripped from his throat only accentuated this fact. Originally Shizuo had only planned to mess with him for a bit before continuing his walk, but with every squeak and hiccup from Izaya he found himself unable to stop himself from tormenting him further.

Not to mention, it was as if Izaya’s hips were made to fit Shizuo’s fingers, his hands sliding into place like a man returning home after a long journey. Truly, how was he supposed to stop when the other option was so enticing?

“F-Fihihihine!” Izaya admitted, squeezing his eyes shut. “Ihihihi ahahadmit ihihit! I’m t-tihihicklish, ohohohokay?”

Shizuo stopped momentarily, triumphant in his victory. Izaya gasped, taking in breath after shaky breath. Strangely though, he didn’t seem as angry as Shizuo would have thought he would be. There was a lingering smile on his face and a strange expression that, if Shizuo didn’t know better, he would have said was joy.

“There,” Shizuo said, throwing in one last squeeze and delighting in the accompanying shriek. “Was that so hard?”

Izaya finally opened his eyes, having regained enough composure to throw a glare in Shizuo’s direction. “Was that really necessary?”

“You torment me on a daily basis,” Shizuo pointed out. “It’s only fitting that I get you back every once in a while. Besides, I thought you said Shinra was supposed to help if anything happens to you. Why don’t you just call him to get you out of this?”

Izaya flushed, knowing himself the real reason why he had not yet called the scientist for help. “I hardly think I need to call him for something as silly as this. Like I said, I can handle myself.”

Shizuo raised an eyebrow, immediately seeing through his façade. He decided not to call him out on it this time, however, and instead said, “Oh? Like you were handling yourself a minute ago when I had you screaming out obscenities from the tickling that you call ‘silly’?”

If Shizuo’s plan had been to embarrass Izaya to death, he was certainly succeeding. “I was not screaming, thank you very much,” he huffed. “I will admit, it was a bit more… intense than I would have originally thought.”

“Is that so?”

“Still, I have endured far worse than this,” Izaya snipped. “This, comparatively, is nothing.”

“Oh, okay.” Shizuo shrugged genially. “I suppose you’re right. I guess something as simple as tickling couldn’t possibly break the great Izaya Orihara.”

“Exactly,” Izaya said warily.

“So then, something like this wouldn’t bother you at all?”

Izaya’s brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to question the blond, but before he could get any words out Shizuo had grabbed the backs of both his thighs, fingers digging torturously into the forbidden area. Izaya would have jumped clear out of his skin had it not been for the ropes, and he shrieked, babbling laughter immediately following it.

“Oh, hot spot is it?” Shizuo teased, giving zero prelude as he squeezed that one spot over and over again, giving Izaya no time to form a response let alone focus on anything as complicated as words. “I guess you were wrong, huh? I guess the great Izaya Orihara can be broken by something as simple as tickling. I’ll make sure to note that down. Thank you, this has been a helpful clarification.”

Izaya just barely managed to flip off, an action Shizuo quickly paid him back for.

Five minutes. Five, long, tickle-filled minutes on the back of his thighs that had Izaya a writhing, squealing mess. Not once, however, did he press the button. Not once did he call out for him to stop. Shizuo noticed this, and though he waited for the eventual protest he assumed inevitable, Izaya never gave it. It was impressive, to be sure.

“Ohohohohokay, ohohohokay, ohohohohokay, ohohohohokahahahaHAHAHAY!” Izaya had taken to simply repeating that one word, gripping to it through the unbearable sensations. He tried again and again to accustom himself to the feeling, but every squeeze was like a shock to his nervous system, sending him into a flood of laughter all over again. “S-Shihihihizuo!”

The sound of his name, shrieked amongst giggles and breathy laughter, was ultimately too much for Shizuo and a blush bloomed across his features. He backed off immediately, his head spinning as he fully realized what he had been doing mere seconds ago. Izaya had no idea of his effect on Shizuo, slowly regaining his breath as phantom tickles ran all up and down his legs.

“Are… are you done?” Izaya asked, relieved to be receiving a break but also slightly disappointed that it was over.

Shizuo coughed, trying to cover up the uneasiness growing in his gut. “Uh, yeah. I, uh, have to continue my walk. Places to be, you know?”

“Oh, y-yeah,” Izaya agreed, confused. It was strange to see Shizuo flustered, even stranger due to the fact that he wasn’t sure what had caused it. “You better get back to that.”

“Have fun with your experiment,” Shizuo called as he backed away, mentally kicking himself at how dumb he sounded.

“Right…” Izaya said slowly, twisting his head around to watch him go as a million questions formed in his mind. “I will.”

Shizuo turned on his heel, walking away in a manner that he hoped was nonchalant. He bit his lip, trying to hide the red quickly forming on his face.

Why did Izaya have to be so cute, dammit?

#tickle fic #durarara #izaya orihara #shizuo heiwajima #shizaya #fanfiction #fanfic #durarara!!#tickling #izaya x shizuo

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