Mitsuki

Quotev acc: Gojoisalive

[cherriesofall]

[allthingskakashi]

• Another Time, Another Chance •

[Kakashi x Reader] || 5k

Based on the Fluff prompt: “You have something in your hair… Do you want me to get it out?”

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[dadsbongos]

Katsuki Bakugou having an airhead gf for about 1130 words

Movie/Game/Show: My Hero Academia Dynamic: Katsuki Bakugou/Reader Warnings: airhead shit ig, I just got diagnosed, so I gave you ADHD because :D Summary: Katsuki never thought he’d be a fan of airheads, but here he was - holding one in his arms like he’d lose her anytime. ~~~

“Why the wide smile, dork?” Katsuki side-eyed his girlfriend.

“Because,” (Y/n) giggled, squeezing tighter at her boyfriend’s - admittedly sweaty - hand, “you came with me! You don’t usually do that.”

“Whatever,” he gruffed, “I just wanted to spend time with my girlfriend, that a damn crime?”

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[dadsbongos]

Omg jjk airhead reader is literally so cute. Imagine the 1st and 2nd years + Gojo noticing that Gumi and reader are a bit..toooo affectionate with one another, and the 1st,2nd years + Gojo just tease them for it and Gumi becomes a blushing mess while reader is completely oblivious on what's going on lolll she's lost in her own little world

sooo i kinda had to roll this with another ask cuz it all worked together better. but yay :) jjk airhead reader my beloved

anon: Can I request megumi x airhead reader where megumi is jealous/Because someone is flirting with airhead reader/Thank youu!

Warnings: fem reader Word Count: 1.4 K ~~~

Scenario A

It’s on a train ride back to Tokyo from a group mission that Yuji makes the off-hand comment to start it all.

“I feel like Kugisaki is a shit driver.”

The train car is long empty as the night rattles ever close to three in the morning. So, nobody is left to be bothered as Nobara shouts her protest and punches the poor boy in the shoulder. You turn to where Megumi is sleeping beside you and gently shake him awake, “Itadori’s getting beat.”

Megumi’s eyes flutter open at that and he rubs the remnants of slumber from them as Nobara huffs, “What about?”

“Hey, how come she can wake you up without you scowling but nobody else can?” Yuji pouts.

“Don’t change the topic, what’d you say to piss Kugisaki off?”

“He said I’m a bad driver!” Nobara crosses her arms, glaring at your peer.

Maki lays a hand on Nobara’s shoulder, “If it makes you feel better, if I saw you hit a curb, I’d redesign the road infrastructure.”

“Aw,” you coo, “How romantic!” then, you turn to Megumi, “I’d do that for you, too.”

He nods, still exhausted, “I’d do it for you,” he clenches his eyes shut to wash the blurriness from them, “I’d do anything for you.”

There’s silence in the car, the others staring at you and Megumi with wide eyes. You reach out and take his hand, shaking it between you two with a smile before going to pull out your phone, “Surprise picture!”

“Huh?” Megumi looks up in time to see you capture a picture of the two of you. He thinks that he looks ridiculous, but your smile is so big and adorable, he can’t possibly tell you off.

He leans over, chin resting on your shoulder as you go into your settings, “I needed a new lock screen. Thanks, ‘gumi.”

Sluggishly, he nods.

“You know, ‘gumi, I heard somewhere that boys with sisters know how to treat women,” you giggle, kissing his temple, “I think that’s true for you.”

“Fushiguro is only nice to you,” Maki deadpans, “That means one thing.”

You squeeze the boy’s hand in yours and Megumi’s cheeks flush, a factor you’re none the wiser to, “What? What does it mean?”

“Nothing,” Megumi huffs, face nearly glowing red.

“Okay!” you cheer, leaning to rest your head on Megumi’s shoulder.

Yuji and Nobara turn to give each other knowing stares, the girl shaking her head with a sigh, “He smiles when she texts him and can’t even admit to being whipped. How sad.”

Yuji points to where Nobara is leaning into Maki’s side, “I don’t think you should be talking.”

Scenario B

You knew your role well - the disgruntled housewife that knocks a rolling pin to Nobara and Yuji’s heads before Gojo comes up to demand Megumi join him for violin practice. It was one you’d done in the multiple times that Formation B was employed to embarrass Megumi in public.

But this time, it felt… strange.

You’d put on the apron and held the rolling pin as Nobara and Yuji clung to Megumi, crying about the night spent toasting to Nobara’s eyes and the most enjoyable times spent with Yuji. But you could only watch.

That girl in front of Megumi was pretty.

It sent an ache through your chest, one that you could not comprehend. It’d never happened before. You clenched the fabric of your apron where your heart was and turned to Gojo, “Sensei, you should go up. I think I’m having a heart attack.”

Gojo checks his watch, “Is your heart still beating?”

“I’m pretty sure.”

“You’ll be fine,” he throws the jacket in his hand over his shoulder and walks onto the scene.

Normally, you’d be trying to hold back your laughter, but now you can only look on at the woman. Megumi turns to her and the ache grows worse. Was he returning her flirtations? Did he like her?

You look down at your shoes - why did it matter?

The woman smiles, it’s a nice smile.

“Ignore them,” Megumi points down the street, “Just take the first right down here and the mall will be right up ahead, you can’t miss it.”

Ah, another case of Yuji misreading the situation then. You’re relieved, but you aren’t sure why, it shouldn’t matter. If anything, you should be glad that Megumi would be finding someone. He deserves to be happy, right? Of course, he does. Megumi is the greatest, you know that.

So why do you hate the idea of him dating someone so much?

“Hey, you missed your cue!” Nobara calls as the quartet return to where you are, “It doesn’t work if we don’t work together.”

“Oh, uh,” you look up at the sky, “I’m not sure.”

Gojo pushes up his glasses, “Heart attack?”

“Oh, right!” you turn, “Where’s the nearest hospital?”

“You’re not having a heart attack,” Gojo grins, patting your head and turning to the others, “‘gumi, go on ahead, I have to discuss another Formation with Nobara and Yuji.”

“Are you serious?” Megumi glares at his teacher before conceding and going to your side. He takes the rolling pin from you, “People don’t usually carry these around.”

“No, but it’s better than a spatula. If I put flour on it, it doesn’t come out of their hair for a few days. But…” you tilt your head, “I don’t know what’s up with me lately, I just feel weird whenever a girl approaches you. But not like they’re a curse, like they’re better than me. Which is weird ‘cuz I’ve never felt like that so randomly before.”

Megumi pauses, staring at you in shock.

“Huh? Did I say something funky?”

Gojo slips on the jacket hanging off his shoulder, “Ah, young love. Too bad ‘gumi can never step up.”

“And bubble-brain’s too trapped in her own world to even realize,” Nobara shakes her head, closing her eyes to avoid the second-hand embarrassment of watching you and Megumi skirt around the topic of liking each other.

“It’s honestly a little sad,” Yuji murmurs, “And that’s coming from me.”

Scenario C

Megumi hopes that his glare can be felt like a physical burn in the back of the boy in front of you. Nobara’s gaze bounces between Megumi and the boy asking you about your favorite restaurants before asking, “So… you remember the whole thing about curses being born of negative emotion, right? ‘Cuz I’m like 99% sure that somewhere in this district, you just birthed one from all this hatred you’re oozing with.”

“Don’t describe me as ‘oozing’,” Megumi huffs.

“She already did,” Yuji pipes up, “But, you know, buddy my friend my companion, if it bothers you so much then maybe you should say something.”

“What?” he turns to stare at his friends, wide-eyed and in shock, “‘Say something’? No. No, no, no. You’re both deranged,” he returns to glaring at the boy, “I’ll simply wish him a gruesome death.”

You smile and nod and giggle and the moron talking to you assumes that’s a green light to keep putting his stupid fucking hands on you. Megumi knows you well enough to know that every time the bitch asks when you’re free, you assume it’s friendly.

“Who doesn’t like making friends, ‘gumi?”

Your voice in his head is nearly enough to calm him, but then he sees the boy go to touch your face. Your sweet, kind face that he rather enjoys looking at.

“Woah, woah!” you grab his hand before it makes contact, “No, thanks!”

“Aw, I thought we were having fun,” the bastard laughs.

You shake your head, “Not anymore! I gotta go, my friends are glaring at you.”

“Huh?” he turns as you walk by, his eyes sliding over to where your fellow first-years are, in fact, glaring at him.

Practically skipping over, you loop your arm through Megumi’s and begin pulling him away with Nobara and Yuji following after.

“You, uh, weren’t interested?” Megumi looks over at you as you two continue walking through the shopping district.

Nobara scoffs from behind you two at the question.

You shake your head, “Nah, men other than you are overrated.”

Megumi chokes on the air in his lungs, cheeks flushing at the statement.

Yuji leans forward, brows furrowed, “Hey, what about me?! And Gojo-sensei! And Nanamin!”

You shrug, “I just like ‘gumi best.”

And that makes up for all the jealousy that’d previously ripped through him.

[sentientsky]

repeating this to myself forever and ever

[mywayoflifeee]

THE LION AND THE SWAN

   +++   · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·++++

____________________________________________

Jeremy von Neuschwanstein x F!reader.

___________________________________________

Prolouge ACT 1 ACT 2 ACT 3 ACT 4 ACT 5

_________________________________________

ACT 6

"Void of dreams, I lie in mortal lethargy..."

It has been a few weeks since [Name] had relocated to this strange county. 

Marta kept her busy from dawn until dusk, the only time she got out of the house was to either run an errand for Marta or to feed the farm, and the rest of the time she was a no name in the village, Although she had learned a few familiar faces, like take the bakers wife or Dr.Augustine--an acquaintance of a certain herbologist, he lived close to Ms Marta and would always wave a 'Hi!' to [Name], who would respond with a little wave of her own.

There was always something to do ,  never giving her a time to float into her endless dreamworld like she used to do a few weeks ago as a 'Vadenburgh', it was now a privilege , that title meant nothing here, that both excited her and also scared her, because the idea of truly being alone, no title, no place to return to was almost horrifying. Almost.

 Because no matter how bad her life was , how bad it has been , there were good memories atleast, a few , that she counts on here and then for hope, like eating mangoes with her brother as children after a long day of playing in summer, staining each other's clothes with yellow sweet and play fighting with toothless grins , sneaking into the kitchen and convincing smiling maids to give her sweet treats at night. She recalls with a small smile.

So when life shoves her ,she remembers  the screams of her people in Lysandra , the horrifying images and was thankful that her life was better in some way. And she needs to be grateful for it. Atleast that's what she tells herself every morning anyway's , whose to say her body is willing to listen . She believes that it's gonna get better, but the ache in her heart and burn in her eyes every night as she slept tells a different story. 

 A few minutes to sit down and then chop cop into working like herbs to sort, bandages to boil, tools to clean all which she learns by simultaneously doing it along with Ms. Marta or by watching her, just hovering above her as she worked, it sometimes annoyed the older companion which resulted in [Name] smiling awkwardly, rubbing her neck and moving away a bit further, almost like a sad puppy.

Though [name] knew Ms. Marta never meant ill, and she made sure to work herself off to repay the gratitude she felt the day she was saved by her. The work was simple but endless, time-consuming and very tiring, [Name]'s hands learned the motions before her mind could wander to darker places. Like the day  everything went to damnation. And the darker days that took place before the damnation.

Though they were all so...blurry , they plagued her dreams like an endless song , never ending and always residing in her mind, humming the tune of despair. So, the work helped and she was grateful for  Ms Marta for one more thing.

"Not like that."

[Name] looked up from the poultice she was attempting to mix. Marta stood over her, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

"You're pressing too hard, that bruises the leaves. and that leads to them losing their potency." The older woman reached down and adjusted [Name]'s grip on the mortar and pestle. Coarse hands grabbing softer hands that are slowly showing the ache of an herbologist and a farmer, rough callouses stand proudly atop [Name]'s finger's , "Gentle, Circular. Like you're coaxing the medicine out, not forcing it. got it? Try it again."

The apprentice tried again. Slower this time. More careful. Explicitly going over the words of her mentor in her mind.

"Better." Marta turned back to her own work without another word.

It was the closest thing to praise [name] had received since arriving in Stilldale, she stopped her work for a moment to stare at the older woman's back with a small smile and eye's big in a circle, a warm sensation flooding her cheeks. Before the same stern voice broke her out of the staring, "Focus. Otherwise the mixture's gonna dry up." A hint of amusement in her voice, [Name] flinched a bit before going back to her work quickly, her ears now warm.

'How did she know... scary..'

The first time Marta let her assist with a real patient, [Name]'s hands shook. Although she had tried convincing Marta that the 3 weeks of training wasn't enough for her to deal with real cases. Well, she never even imagined doing a real case, she only thought her contributions were limited to meagre work. But Marta insisted--countering her with 'If not now, when? toughen up lil girl, you learn more by doing this'.

It was an evening when A young boy---maybe seven or eight----had fallen from a tree and split his forearm open on a sharp branch. His mother carried him in, the child wailing, blood dripping onto Marta's clean floor. [name] just stood there on the sideline , her fingers tangling up in one another , staring at the boy whose cries probably reached the whole county. 'So much ...blood'. She could only focus on the dripping noise of blood when the familiar voice carried into air.

"Fetch the yarrow," Marta said calmly. "And the clean cloths. The boiled ones."

[Name] stood frozen for a heartbeat too long. Her heartbeat was racing with her mind as she could only just cosplay as an iceberg, unable to think of anything else but bloodbloodblood and then gunpowder, bombs, her hands itching to cover her ears, cold sweat that felt like a dump of cold water on her back-

"Now, girl." She jumped a bit and looked at Ms. Marta who now stared at her with so much force and strictness that broke her out of the spiral she was thrusted into earlier.

She moved. Just like she had moved that day, with hurry in her steps and worry.

Her hands remembered what her mind couldn't , her brain wasn't cooperating as it only played her running for her life, losing gwen, the uncertainity of losing her brother, as if it was mocking her.

The yarrow was in its usual place. The cloth's were where Marta always kept them. She laid everything out on the table, her hands still shaking with tremors, Marta glanced at them before turning back to her work, [Name] quickly hid her hands behind her , holding tightly--enough to leave marks to make it stop. while Marta now examined the wound, her rough fingers gentle against the boy's skin.

"Good," The one in charge said , whether to her or the boy, she wasn't sure. "Hold his hand. Talk to him. Keep him still."

[Name] nodded, and sat down next to the kid, and took the boy's small, grubby hand in hers. He looked up at her with tear-filled blue eyes, lower lip trembling. He was shaking so badly, her hands trembled a little less now, her heart itching to reassure the baby in front of her. His head turned to look at his mom frantically talking with Marta before trying to look down at his bleeding injury and [name]'s hand shot out, gently taking his chin in her hands as she titled it upwards to face her.

"It's going to be okay," she heard herself say with the gentlest and kindest smile she could muster, whether it was to herself or him, she didn't know. "Marta's the best healer in the valley, the little injury will be gone in no time,  You'll have a scar to show your friends!"

The boy sniffled. "Really?" His eyes still crinkled at the pain but focused on her now, tears still flowing. She nodded, smiling more , her thumb unknowingly caressing his cheek that was damp with his sorrow.

"Really. Very brave people get scars you know ,  not many have marks of bravery to show..." She squeezed his hand gently. "What's your name?"

"Tomas." She smiled, "Tomato?" , the boy widened his eyes a bit before shaking his head with his eyebrows furrowed, "No! Its tomas!", She heard Ms. Marta huff a small smile as she applied the mix on the boy's arm.

The girl blinked and then hummed, keeping one hand on her chin as she pretended to mull over, trying to stall him from Marta's work on his arm, "Oh really? can you spell it out for me? I'm not as smart as you, you see...and by the time your done , Your hand will be fixed!" Her hands stopped shaking now.

He nodded , biting his lip when marta applied a bit pressure, "It's, t-o-m-a-s , not tomato!". 

"Thank you tomas! I got it now!" [Name] smiled brightly , rubbing his cheek more when she felt Tomas squeeze her hand so hard his knuckles went white. But he didn't scream. Marta was already wrapping the last bandage.

"Good job, boy," Marta said. "You'll live."

Tomas looked at his bandaged arm with something like wonder and sniffled. Then he looked at the girl who was now reaching beside him to grab what seemed like a small candied sugar treat, then turning back to him with a small smile as she handed it to him. The kid's eyes sparkled as he took it, a few moments of silence when the boy broke it.

"What's your name... miss?"

"It's [Name], Tomas." She smiled and titled her head a bit, confusion as to why the boy was asking her name.

"You said I'd have a scar."

"You will." She nods, and by the look of her face , it warped into worry--worry that she might have made the little youngling a bit sad at the fact that he's gonna have a scar. A scar that might aid his mind into thinking he's different from others as he grows up. A scar that could trouble him and let others trouble him for it so, as she opened her mouth, maybe to gently ease Tomas's worry, the said boy spoke up again.

"That's Cool, does ...that mean you have one?"...Silence encases the room once again but this time it was deafening, the [h/c]'s shoulders tense a bit as she looks at the boy , smiling a bit apologetically, though her eyes hold a subtle sorrow the seven year old boy wouldn't understand. 

"Tomas-"

"Oh my goodness!! im so sorry !! I-I , he shouldn't have asked that!" His mother-whose name you learned was Hillary , bowed her head a bit , shaking her head at Tomas, and looking at you with worry. 

Marta seemed quiet during this whole thing, eyes intensely watching [Name] like a hawk, she notices the tensed shoulders, her fingers wringling--something she always noticed with the girl in distress. Sensing this , the younger one just avoided Ms. Martas eye's , now smiling awkwardly towards the mother , assuring her with "It's okay! don't worry about it Miss.." .

After the Mother had endlessly thanked Both Marta and [Name] , the mother son duo left not before Tomas had demanded to hug the young girl goodbye, [Name] couldn't stop smiling after that . It was quiet now save for the chirping of common starlings perched on branches outside. [Name] had realized she'd grown fond of their company during her afternoon pastimes.

The apprentice quietly worked, cleaning up the place, and when she reached the blood on the floor , she stilled, her eyes dilating a bit--she blinked and for a split second she was back in Lysandra.

She crouched down with a rag, heaving a sigh , her hands starting to tremble a bit, when the very familiar coarse hands--the sensation which she has come to know for the past weeks, grabbed hers and made her forcefully drop the rag, that ultimately got a reaction out of the girl as she looked at the older woman in question--Who now just stared at her with a narrow gaze, "Just...leave this part to me. You go and handle yourself first, looks like you could use a bath."

[name]'s cheeks warmed as  she blinked, staring dottily at the person in front of her,--'did she smell?', she tried sniffing herself subtly, but before she could feel any more embarrassment, Marta tapped her forehead with two fingers, her head tilted back. And then, she felt nothing but warmth. The endless anxiety. The worry. everything was gone. Her heart ever so vibrant was now placcid.

A breeze through the gaps of the now open window's flushed through, blowing the older woman's hair a bit out place, the evening sun's tame light rays , hitting the crevices on the older woman's face . [Name] could only feel her eye's widen, as she drank in the scene, her heart....it felt like it could burst. 

'Why was this woman so kind to me? a kindness I haven't received even from my own mother.'

The Warmth [Name] only felt during the days when she was still the size of three apples and had smeared chocolate on her cheek's, that was wiped by worrisome maids . "I don't know if you take me for a fool 'girl. But I need you to know, I notice everything that goes around here. And that includes what u do, and how you behave."

[Name] gulped a bit at the sudden stern gaze of the woman, before nodding, 'Did I do something wrong?' , her eyebrows furrowed slightly as her eye's trailed downwards.

Another tap on her forehead.

She looked up. Surprised to see Ms. Marta looking at her with sweetness in her eyes, like honey could drip out any moment from the earnest pair, it froze her. Her eyes which she always thought were so kind--somehow felt even more kinder.

That made her go still, so still, she didn't notice the burning behind her own eyes until a lump formed in her throat. "You were sweating alot lassie, although it's spring. Not so much heat around here." And it was silence for a good while, the young girl could only do so much as to stare, and not say anything, her fingers had started picking the dry skin , already knowing what the next question might be, she swallowed a bit , now looking down, preparing to lie again like she had the first time, but stopped when she saw the pair of wrinkled hands gripping hers,

"Now, I ain't as cruel as a villain to ask what is the deal with you fidgeting so much, I assumed when you knew much of the herbs I taught you that you probably had experience at coming in contact with blood. But....now I see that's not the case".

A pause.

[Name]'s eyes had now become marbles---marbles that held a well of tears. She had waited. Waited for any prick of disappointment she could sense in Marta's voice. The disappointment she was used to from her father. But there was none. 

Only words that seemed like hands wrapping around her to protect her. Protect. She felt ...safe.

And then soft pats over her hands, "So I won't question anything...for now. I ...Don't know what you have been through , but your gonna be okay with me around [Name]."

At the mention of her name, which had come out so delicately out of Marta's mouth , her hands which had been encased under a soft grip, limp, shuffled and held the wrinkled fingers with desperation, [name]'s lower lip trembled as she tried her best to hold the waterfall that seemed to drip down her face , afraid of the rejection for this weakness to come. But she took one more look at Ms. Marta , still giving her an expression that seemed like an embrace , and that seemed to be the landslide to push the waterfall out of her eyes.

Two strong hands, hands that she was sure she would remember the feeling of , till the day her lips turned blue , pushed her head to lean on the sturdy shoulder of Marta. And so she cried, like an infant wailing in starvation, the tears that used to seem like a sin to do back home now rushed out freely, grabbing onto the fabric of the lady's apron, shuffling her head into the crook of Ms. Marta's neck, breathing in the herby scent--a scent she can remember for comfort now, as she felt the same wrinkled hands, smooth her hair down.

'Her embrace truly feels like the heaven beneath a mothers feet.'

word count: 2,902

+++   · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·+++

THE LION AND THE SWAN

NOTE: I hope this wasn't fast paced, like i wanted to make sure there was a build up to the point where there is trust between Marta and Reader. Can u tell my fav character is Marta ;p . We all love marta in this club. I hope u guys were able to peep that i used poetry in this chapter more rather than the others, in a way , because reader used to journal, so for memories  and people she cherishes she loves to observe and do poetry. [Name] is a confirmed yearner.

Me if young cunty marta popped up in front of me. (Marta was infact a baddie when she was younger).

[stepmothersfantasyheadcanons]

Jeremys worst fear

Jeremys worst fear is to be forgotten and be perceived as annoying. He want sto be helpful, he wants to make people proud. He prides himself in the fact that he masters manners, etiquette, swordsmanship, politics, history, geograhy (and much more) at such a young age without needing much help-he self studied a lot and his heart aches for attention. He wants people to notice his efforts, being ignored or treated like a ghost in his own home--perhaphs even in public can be quite humiliating for him. Another fear of his is becoming like one of those snobby-aristrocrates who dont care about commoners and only about themselves-though thats unlikely considering the fact that Jeremy truly cares so deeply about people. Hes just scared of rejection.

[stepmothersfantasyheadcanons]

What type of person Jeremy is

stubborn. His stubborness has been talked about a lot from Shuli in the Manwha.

assured. His self confidence makes he want to act as he pleases.

headstrong. no matter the enemy, opponent or challenge he faces is with a clear goal in mind and pushes forward.

cocky. a tad-bit arrogant in some places, but there is a good balance between humble and cocky.

protective. His protective nature reflects onto his actions, like how he deeply wanted to become a knight at such a young age and takes it seriously. When Shuli said she wanted to learn swordsmanship, Jeremy laughed because he always imagined being there to protect people - especially his family.

[stepmothersfantasyheadcanons]

Jeremy admitting that he's attracted to girls who are effortlessly beautiful, even when frowning or wearing the most basic dress ( From Stepmothers Märchen Novel)

[aengelren]

“his emerald eyes”

[stepmothersfantasyheadcanons]

Jeremy

[aengelren]

“his emerald eyes”

[stepmothersfantasyheadcanons]

Jeremy

[mellifluouaamor]

What kind of a ml would jeremy (a stepmother's marchen) would be? Do you think he will say the line: "its not that i like you or something" ?

Jeremy is such a tsun yet also a subtle gentleman that it's hard to pinpoint the type of male lead he'd be LOL

Personally, I think he'd be the silent knight type. Y'know, the type who acts passive on the surface but actually cares more than one would think. He's faithful, protective, and will quietly watch over you from the shadows, only stepping in when you're stuck in a place with no way out. He can be a little mean, but he'll comfort you with his genuine kindness. He's quick to assume the worst when he catches you in a bad situation, but his reckless decisions are made with the intent to protect you.

I don't think he'll say something as tsun as that, he seems pretty straightforward with how he feels. If he likes you, then he'll wait until the time is right before confessing.

[mywayoflifeee]

HOLY SHIT WHY ISN'T HE REAL

[noraloveasmsnj]

I just realized something—

the disappointment Jeremy feels toward his father is the same one Nora has been living with every day toward his own father.

The only difference is that in Nora’s case, the one who suffered physically was himself ;(, while in Jeremy’s case, it was Shuri

[movingforanewblog]

Rereading The Fantasies of a Stepmother/A Stepmother’s Marchen and Jeremy is kind of the perfect example of how to write a 2nd ML.

Most 2nd MLs in manhwa get relegated to being drama for the FL and main ML or a tool to progress the plot but Jeremy isn’t used for that. He exists to be a genuine companion to Shuri and also to contrast with his father Johannes.

Jeremy is a hot-headed man who usually acts impulsively with his emotions and Johannes is the cool as a cucumber politic who thinks 3 steps ahead but when it comes to love: Jeremy loves genuinely and whole-heartedly while Johannes obsesses.

Both of them loved a woman they couldn’t have (Ludovika chose the emperor and church law forbids Jeremy and Shuri) but while Johannes is an obsessive lunatic who married a 14 year old girl for looking like her, Jeremy makes the man who Shuri loves promise to look after her and swears to be a proper head of the family so she can relieved of her burden.

Honestly I don’t feel like Jeremy is as strong of a character if he was the main ML despite the fact I really do adore them together. His position as her stepson means he can never be the one who will give Shuri a calm and stable life. Even if they had Shuri’s marriage to Johannes annulled meaning he’s not her stepson, that relationship would forever hang over them.

Jeremy is a perfect 2nd ML because he’s agent of the plot as opposed to a tool of it. When he shows up, you know we're getting plot and not the author's toy to piss us off. He helps Shuri move past the abuse she experienced with Johannes and loves her wholeheartedly but won’t stand in the way of her happiness. Not every 2nd ML has to be written like Jeremy but Jeremy is a great example of how you can write a 2nd ML and make a fully realized character instead of someone who just irritates readers.

[mywayoflifeee]

hes so prefect wowza.

[fic-dumpster]

The Lion of Neuschwanstein

Let no one who loves be called altogether unhappy. Even love unreturned has its rainbow. —J.M. Barrie

[mywayoflifeee]

i love him oh my goddddd

[mywayoflifeee]

THE LION AND THE SWAN

   +++   · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·++++

____________________________________________

Jeremy von Neuschwanstein x F!reader.

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Prolouge ACT 1 ACT 2 ACT 3 ACT 4

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ACT 5

"Fear eats the soul..."

The next few days blurred together in a rhythm [Name] had never known. But she doesn't know if she can describe it as a good ryhtym or bad...of course at first it was bad...like terribly bad. Every time she was set to meet new people to make herself known, she would end up butchering the conversations. Although it was the same talk all over again--'Hello there! how are you?' or 'Poor dear u look so thin! u should eat up' To which she would just nod , hoping to leave already. Because if she were to count the amount of times she had interacted with a perosn outside her circle back home, they could fit in one palm of her hand. Besides, her mind always traced back to her family, Gwen, so desperate to know what happened to them, her dreams were constantly filled with those screams, rubble, and smoke, Always haunting her. Always mocking her.

'These people are awfully friendly.' would always be her first thought, that made it so incredibly hard to not be awkward when conversing. It always never failed to leave her cringing at her faults at the end. 'why had they never questioned her origin's?'

Her first conversation by herself though was remarkably memorable--all for the very right reasons.

"Father Aldric needs the herbs," she said, thrusting a basket into [Name]'s hands. "His stores are low, and he's too proud to ask. Take these, stay for his blessing if you want, don't let him talk your ear off."

The other hesitated. "The priest?"  'I need to walk all the way over to the chapel..?' [Name] sweatdropped, she hoped that luck would love her in this case because although she was taken to the chapel before , she had already forgotten the directions--now having only a vague memory.

"Priest, administrator, busybody---he wears all three hats and complains about each one." Ms.Marta's lips twitched. "He means well. Mostly. Just... don't agree to anything without checking with me first. This applies to everyone you encounter without me."

[Name] didn't ask what that meant. 'Okay.. that's strange....' she replied in her head and nodded for a response, She took the basket and walked.

Thankfully it seemed that many of the others in this county were heading the same direction so she just treaded behind them lightly.

The chapel sat at the eastern end of the green, small and plain, it's stone walls weathered by decades of mountain storms. A simple wooden cross hung above the door.

No statues, no stained glass, none of the ornate decoration [Name] associated with temples in Lysandra. She stood in front of the medium sized door for a minute , collecting herself for any possible social interaction with anyone, rehearsing the instructions given to her by Ms.Marta in her head.

She pushed open the door. Adjusting her grip on the object in her hand as she returned her focus onto her surroundings. Relief flooded her chest when she took notice of no one there.

Inside, the space was equally modest. Wooden pews, a simple altar, candles flickering a sheen warmth of fire in holders that looked locally made, with the same unfamiliar wood. The air smelled of wax and incense and something earthier beneath , herbs--parsen herbs  probably as they're always used for scenting, from the stores Ms.Marta had mentioned.

With one hold on the basket , her other hand reached out delicately to run her fingers over carvings on the altar, again all made with wood. This was so strange to her, growing up visiting churches that were only made from quartz and marble , so , seeing one made with wood was really shocking..It was nice, it felt inviting and not intimidating for once. As she continued to look around , walking sideways running her hands ghostly over the surface all the while--

"Ah! You must be Marta's girl!"

[Name] jumped, instantly removing her hand from the altar's surface and tensing, she sighed a little under breath , she was hoping to just leave the basket and go back but of course as her luck would have it, she bit her lip a bit before facing the direction of the voice.

Her fingers nimbly already picking at the small dry skin near her thumb. Threatening to draw blood.

A tall man with a round face split with a welcoming smile, and a comfortable paunch and thinning hair combed carefully over his scalp emerged from a small side room.

His robes were plain wool, mended at the elbows, a small symbol , something similar to the shape of a pendant was embroidered at the center of his inner robe--her eyes flicked up hesitantly, there was only one answer to as who this could be, 'Is this father Aldric?..'

He had graying hair but traces of brown could be seen, and he had the same earnest, tired eyes as Ms.Marta , that unconsciously relaxed her, the shoulders which shot up to her ears before were loosened a bit , almost like the fact of familiarity massaged her shoulders down.

She shifted on her foot uncomfortably at the silence in the room before speaking--

"Ms.Marta sent me with Herbs.." [Name] said, holding out the basket, Looking down , very hesitant to lift her eyes up and make eye contact.

"Wonderful, wonderful!" He took it with both hands, [Name]'s hands folding a bit to create more distance between her and the older mans hands, careful not to make contact,  the Priest beamed. "She's a saint, that woman. A genuine saint who would absolutely deny being a saint if you suggested it." He chuckled at his own joke. The girl just stared for a moment, 'He really was so lively..'

"Come in, come in the office, don't hover in the doorway. I won't bite." His eyes seemed to be trained on her, the smile plastered not changing once since he entered the room, she looked back down again, her now empty hands hanging on both her sides awkwardly. 

[Name] stepped inside reluctantly. The chapel and her feeling of safety both felt smaller with the door closed behind her. She was now in the Preist's office, she looked around, both her hands folded in front of her, there were a lot of papers, paintings of small kids laughing , some posing with a younger version of Father Aldric.

Numerous amounts of flower pots were dangling , decorating the room's entrance. 'He seems really fond of green herbs and flowers..' She hummed under her breath .

Father Aldric set the basket on a pew and began examining its contents with obvious pleasure. "Yarrow, comfrey, chamomile,parsen!... she always knows exactly what I need before I need it. Remarkable woman." He glanced up at the shuffling visitor , still smiling.

"And you're her new helper i presume! I'd heard rumors, of course. Stilldale is small---everyone hears everything eventually. But it's lovely to finally meet you properly." [Name] made sure to note the difference in accent of his when compared to Ms. Marta . This seemed to be a recurring pattern, every new conversation held a new accent she had yet to decipher the origin of.

"[Name]," she offered. Curt. Polite. Nodding with a small smile. 'Polite [name], always be polite to your elders'. A mental note engraved into her from her previous tutor's .

"No last name?" He asked then, tilting his head. The only response he got was just a quick nod.

"[Name]," He savored the name. "Pretty. Unusual. Not from around here, I'd guess?"

She tensed, her hands at the front held each other a bit more tightly to hide her tremors. she hated confrontations, hated the ugly truth about her reality. "No." She can't really lie her way around this because well, it's obvious she wasn't from anywhere near here. But now this had her thinking , should she have used an alias?  

"No, of course not. Most of us aren't, originally." He waved vaguely at the chapel. "Stilldale collects strays, you'll find. People passing through who decide to stay. People running from things they don't discuss." His smile widened. "We're very good at not discussing things here. It's practically a local skill."

[Name] relaxed slightly. "Ms. Marta mentioned that." She nodded. That explains the varying accents.

"Marta's wise. Listen to her." He finished, humming, examining the herbs and turned to face her fully. "Now. Can I offer you anything? Tea? A blessing? Someone to talk to? I'm told I'm a good listener, though Marta says I talk too much, so perhaps don't take that recommendation at face value."

She took a withering glance at him before looking away, keeping her hands at her back  now before her lips thinned. 'Don't agree to anything without checking with me first.' The older woman's voice ringed in her head like a loop. Right.

She shook her head with a smile, before glancing at the man again, "I..I should get back." She gestured loosely at the door, "Ms. Marta might need me.."

"Of course, of course. Duty calls." He walked toward the door where [Name] stands a bit close to, still talking, she moves slightly out of the way almost automatically. "But please feel free to visit anytime. The chapel is open to all, regardless of background or belief. We're very inclusive here. Very modern. Well, as modern as a tiny village between two warring kingdoms can be, which is to say---"

He laughed at himself, cutting off the ramble.

[Name] almost smiled again. He was... harmless. Chatty and slightly exhausting, but harmless. He reminded her of her Gardener back home , as she woke to the rumbling of his raspy aged laugh while  talking to others in the mornings.

She stepped through the door----Mumbling a small thank you Father, as he held the door for her,

"[Name]."

She stopped and turned, moving away as much to create distance as they both stood at the center of the doorway, glancing hesitantly to what he was to say.

Father Aldric stood in the doorway, silhouetted by candlelight, his eyes trained on her still, shadows painted under crevices of the folds on his face, making him seem...colder, the gaze never seeming to leave her sight since the moment she arrived. His expression hadn't changed----still that same friendly smile, still those warm eyes. But something in his voice had shifted. Just slightly. Just enough. It could almost go unnoticed by, but when compared to his earlier chatterings before the difference was obvious.

"I hope you find what you're looking for here," he said. "Stilldale is good at providing refuge. It's less good at providing answers. But sometimes refuge is enough, don't you think?"

She didn't know how to respond. Her mouth opened a bit and closed into a tight line, her hands itched at her sides again , and her body somehow was telling her to walk faster. But, she just nodded not fully understanding what the father was trying to convey, she swallowed a bit before turning away and moving forward.

A few seconds pass by and she turns her head, she doesn't know what compelled her to do it she just did, her hair--now clean, swishing a bit at the wisps of air entering through the chapel windows as she neared the main entrance. Luminous evening light shone on the other side of her face, lighting up her eyes into what resembled the bursting of the sun.

He smiled again----the same smile, perfectly pleasant----and closed the door.

[Name]  walked back to Marta's cottage slowly, her mind turning over the conversation. Nodding with a smile at a few others who greeted her with a cheery ‘hello!’ As she continued on her path.

He'd been friendly. Overly friendly, but then again so was everyone around here. He was too friendly though.. ..and another thought seemed to butt in ‘but that seemed to be his nature.’

Marta had warned her he talked too much after all. Nothing he'd said had been threatening or probing or even particularly curious. Just the usual theatrics when u meet a new person.

And yet.

‘I hope you find what you're looking for here.’

Such an ordinary thing to say. A blessing, almost. The kind of thing any priest might offer a newcomer. Especially to someone so…young and helpless.

So why did she feel like he'd been saying something else entirely?

She shook her head  pushing the thought away, lightly slapping her cheeks with both hands and keeping them there as dwelled .She was being paranoid, that was it.  Stilldale was safe. Marta was kind. Father Aldric was just a chatty priest who'd probably forgotten her name and went back to his herbs the moment

But She didn't see the glint in his eyes as he watched her walk away through the chapel window. With his arms behind his back as his eyes further narrowed.

Didn't see the way his smile sharpened, just for a moment, before it relaxed as he turned back to his herbs.

Didn't  see when his eyes raked at the papers on his table as they seem to still on a name. And then flickered back up at the small dissolved image of the newcomer walking away. Eyebrows furrowed.

“Hmm..”.

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THE LION AND THE SWAN

NOTE: My honest reaction to the preists in this manhwa (erwin von dreger...gulp.)

ACT 6

[mywayoflifeee]

THE LION AND THE SWAN

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Jeremy von Neuschwanstein x F!reader.

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Prolouge ACT 1 ACT 2 ACT 3

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ACT 4

"And i was lost amongst the sea , waiting for someone to end my seamless suffering.."

It had felt like hours, days even maybe. [Name] doesn't know how long it had been walking endlessly , she doesn't know how long her feet had been in contact with stubbles, grass and mud. Her shoes long ago discarded due to her feet aching.

She's longing for a sign, a distinctive voice of aliveness, and people. Because truthfully she really had no clue where she was of now. All she could see is the blurry(?) path infront of her and...and trees? shes not really sure anymore, she doesn't have the energy to even cry , maybe just a bit , enough to give up. 

'A bit more, ' she huffed, 'just..a bit more', her hands clutched at her ruined dress, heaving for air , her throat was parched, her skin dry and muddy . But what else can she do?

Her feet carried her as much as they could as she could slowly feel all the strength in her leaving , her legs stumbled for a moment, before she caught herself near a clearing , a hand on the branch of a tree nearby.

She could tell her vision was running out too , everything was so-too much.  'Too much....' , Right as she neared an arc , a small cliff you could say, she squinted her eyes to focus, making out trees and....a village? county? whatever it was she couldn't believe her eyes seriously..a county? in the middle of nowhere ?....But she can't complain as she withered like a flower stumbling near the edge and collapsing.

THUMP!

She had no energy in her to even squeeze her wrist...her breath was thinning out too. Her hands lightly hit the ground with tempered frustration as she slowly gave up.

Her last thoughts had been of her elder brother...Wondering where he was?

was....he well?

.

.

A FEW DAYS LATER...

The first thing [Name] became aware of was the smell.

Not smoke. Not blood. Not the constant burning of gunpowder that had embedded itself in her nightmares even as she slept.

Herbs. Lavender, rosemary, something...else.

The second thing was warmth. Genuine warmth, seeping through blankets that smelled of straw,

'Where was this...?'.

When was the last time she'd been truly warm? Her vision was still so dotted , almost as if she had still been sleeping.

Her eyelids stretched open, struggling as thin liquid coaxed her eyes to close again , and they immediately squinted at the beacon of light slithering through....wherever she was.

The ceiling above her was low, crossed with dark wooden beams from which hung bundles of dried plant, flowers, leaves, twisted roots, all swaying gently in some invisible current of air. Morning light slanted through a small window with warped glass that had kaleidoscopic colors, throwing patches of gold and rainbow across the worn floorboards. She grunted for a moment as she tried to move, her head was running miles per hour, and it suddenly hit her, like a train--heavy and burdening.

'I-i dont know where i am!!'

As she writhed with the little bucket of energy her body simmered with, a voice broke her out of panic--to bring her into even more panic!! Because clearly another person is there with her right now. She stiffened--

"Awake, are you?"

[Name] startled so violently she nearly tumbled off the narrow bed. An older woman stood in the doorway--'was she an older lady?' The young girl couldn't see properly at all, so it was a headache as she focused her squinting eyes as hard she could to view the lady in some light she concurred from the windows.

Wiping her hands on an apron stained with things [Name] couldn't identify. She had gray hair--'no no gray? or was it pure white?' She quinted again--with more intensity, 'Yeah...it was gray hair' , pulled back in a tight knot, a face lined by years and weather , and eyes the color of winter sky, sharp, assessing, but not unkind.

"Careful with the squinting lil girl, you might go truly blind." The voice quipped with a playful tone.

And with no chance to ask or do anything , the person spoke out again.

"You've been asleep since Tuesday afternoon," the woman said, crossing to the fire that crackled in a stone hearth. "Didn't think you'd wake before noon, truth be told. You were half-dead when I found you in my herb patch, at the top of the cliff, so i assumed"-- The gray haired lady looked at you briefly, shifting her attention back to the crackling fire which seemed to be the only noise amidst the small interval of quiet. "You were dead." 

A silence stretched on....and the resting girl could only sweatdrop, hoping the old lady in front of her wasn't some maniac...because all she can do is leave her health and safety upon her--albeit still with a bit of suspicion.

Herb patch. [Name]'s memory stirred. The path. The valley. Collapsing.

'Was it a herb patch?...huh, strange i assumed it to be some...dry cliff'

And she spoke out, her throat protesting at the dryness of it all when she tried to get a few words out of her mouth desperate to know where this was.

"Where-"

"Stilldale." The woman didn't turn from whatever she was stirring with a stick into the fire to make it alive and shine brighter. "Free County of Stilldale. I'm Marta. You're in my home, eating my food and resting on my bed, so--shortly you'll be telling me your name so I know what to call you besides 'girl.'"

[ Name] opened her mouth again. Closed it. Her throat was raw, as if she'd been screaming. Had she been screaming? She couldn't remember, was this why her throat was so dry? Every time she tried to speak it felt as if there were a thousand needles pinching at the muscles contracting in her throat.

"[Name]," she managed. It came out as a croak.

Marta appeared at her bedside with a cup of something steaming. "Drink. Slowly. It's just broth, but your stomach's been empty too long to handle anything more."

Frail hands stiffened a bit, hesitating before the bowl was thrusted into her hands with more resolution as if to say --'Drinkup! you have no choice!'

The scratchy hem of the bowl carved from..unfamiliar wood was brought to her lips, as the liquid trickled into the girls mouth , her eyes shut again with gratitude , the tension in her body leaving a bit. The broth was thin and salty, with hints of the herbs that hung from the ceiling. The [H/c] girl drank as instructed 'Slowly!'--- so, slowly she drank, carefully---and felt warmth spread through her chest. When was the last time she'd eaten? She couldn't remember that either. 'Was she forgetting her whole life now?'  She'd hope not...

Marta watched her with those sharp winter eyes, saying nothing until the cup was empty.

"Better?"

In response the younger one nodded.

"Good." Marta took the cup and returned to her pot. "Now. [Name]"--'She had an accent' is what the girl wrapped in straw blankets noticed. "What were you doing stumbling into my herb patch half-dead and dressed like a noble's cast-off?" Blinking to snap out of it as she focused on the words being spoken to her. Suddenly at the confrontation her fingers fiddled with the straw blanket.

Looking down at herself. She noticed the dress she wore was not her own----a simple woolen thing, coarse and brown, miles from the silk and velvet she'd grown up with. Someone had changed her while she slept. The realization should have frightened her. Somehow, it only made her feel tired and a bit..embarassed.

"Your clothes were beyond saving," Marta said without turning. "Burned in places, torn in others. These belonged to a girl who passed through last autumn. Didn't make it through the winter. Consumption."

Marta pointed at the garments she was wearing...

'oh..'

Suddenly a dread filled her, along with a stabbing guilt, she looked down once again her fingers fiddling again.

"I'm sorry.....um.." She wasn't the best at reading emotions( lies lol shes a good empath , don't believe her guys). She glanced to take a look at the lady's face again, just to decipher what emotions can be going through across her saviour's face. Trying to understand if that girl meant anyone important to the being in front of her. When the other reciprocated by looking at her again she looked down quickly, her hair slowly falling one by one on her face to cover it. Her nose scrunched--'I smell.....'.

"Don't be. You didn't know her." Marta finally turned, a wooden spoon in her hand. "Now. Your story. I'm not the county administrator, and I don't care what trouble you're running from as long as you don't bring it to my doorstep. But I'd like to know who's sleeping in my spare bed."

[Name] let out a breath she didn't know she was holding when the woman finally ripped her eyes off of her...The fiddling of her fingers stopped for a moment. And she breathed in some air to anchor the beating , alive heart of hers. Always so alive. Always so ...vibrant to make her feel so...nervous.

She hesitated. The truth---'I'm the daughter of Duke Vadenburgh of lysander'---sat on her tongue like poison. She couldn't say that. Can she? She wasn't a fool to know that , usually commoners don't favour nobles like her, mostly because of capitalism. She flexed her fingers now noticing the dirt under her nails as she resolved in her mind. 'Yeah..she can't..' Not here, not anywhere. Not ever again, maybe. 

'Maybe...I can leave that title behind?..'

A hope bloomed in her chest, like a flower unravelling itself to face the sunlight. Noticing how quiet she had been , a ruffle sounded through the room, now aware of the gaze of the older woman on her , she quickly opened her mouth to speak again , still looking down. Unable to face---to face, eyes---probably earnest and tired eyes, and speak the lies she's gonna utter out the next moment.

"My father..." she began slowly, her voice less raspy from the balming effect of the broth earlier, "was a retainer to a minor noble. In Lysandra." The lie felt clumsy, obvious, but desperate. "When the bombs started falling on our village, I ran. I don't know if he made it out. I don't know if anyone made it out." Her fingers started to climb up the ladder of peak anxiety as they stretched the skin hanging off of her dirty fingernails.

Marta's expression didn't change, or maybe it did, she was too cowardly enough to face Ms.Marta anyways--'Ms...or Mrs.?...' A thought popped up before her fingers feebly scratched the stray skin, as if her body was begging her to focus on the present.

'Focus.'

Not after the lie she spewed out with so much desperation, she could only pray to god that the receiver of the lie wouldn't have noticed her stampede of nerves in her voice , as she tried to put a believable front.

She stirred her pot, considered, then nodded once.

"That explains the way you talk. Fancy, but not too fancy." She gestured with her spoon at the room. "Well, [Name]-from-Lysandra-with-a-father-who-served-a-noble, here's how things work in Stilldale. We don't have nobles. We don't want nobles. We have a chapel, a priest who thinks he's in charge, and about two hundred people who ignore him unless they need a wedding or a funeral. We survive by being useful to both sides and loyal to neither. Soldiers don't come here. Armies don't march through. And if you want to stay, you'll help me with the work and keep your head down. Understood?"

The girl looked up in surprise , at the woman who saved her...'She's letting me stay...?'  . A twinkle in [Name]'s eyes as she looked at Ms.Marta---truly looked. All the other words spoken into air ignored as if they had been for the walls around them. A warm feeling bloomed in her chest again. The other stared back, tilting her head for a response.

The young girls lips quirked up a bit before she looked away again and mumbled. "Yes...and thank you..".

"Good." Marta ladled something into a bowl---porridge, thick with dried fruit---and set it on a small table by the bed. "Eat. Then rest. We'll talk about work and introducing you tomorrow."

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THE LION AND THE SWAN

NOTE: look at how pretty he is , oh my god i love him chat.

Also just to note that this is gonna have very slow buildup , i think i want to put a big timeframe of the two mc's meeting but idk, and also just fyi, the stilldale is a free county meaning, No kingdom has a hold on the small peice of land, so soldiers can come in but for refugee only! i think u can tell where im going with this....but i'm gonna make sure the story is as complex and cinematic as it can get.

jus winging the plot btw(no clue where this is going).

  Please comment! it will help me to write more!    ദ്ദി( • ᴗ < )

ACT 5