#And i just found out there's a scientific name for my quiet desperate obsession | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lemonjoonah · 5 years

Text

Beastly Gods (M)

Pairings: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader x ??? Word Count: 8K Rating: M Genre: Hybrid AU, Thriller, Drama Warnings: Smut scene (Unprotected Sex, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Fingering, Cum Play), Blood, Captivity, Themes of Obsession and Ownership.

Summary: ‘Don’t leave the forest,’ a rule that you've been forced to follow since birth, but you are tired of living in this wooden cage. Out of desperation you cut a deal with Taehyung, who claims to be the only one who can get you out safely, even though he might be just as dangerous as the god you’re trying to escape.

AN: Not your typical Hybrid AU. At first I was going to release secondary love interest information, but then I thought, fuck it, you’ll guys will just have to wait until the end to see who watches over the forest *Cackles*. Story is dedicated to @lovelesscherry who reblogged a cabin room photo that started this whole mess of an idea.

...

A large oak stands in front of you as your best method to reach the sky, the only tool you have for your small calculated rebellion.

You’ve been taught since birth, ‘Don’t leave the forest. As long as you remain within the woods you are safe, but anything which goes out beyond the line of trees is his to take. ’ The lessons refer to the so called protector of your forest, a self proclaimed god, and the one you live to hate. Some have made attempts to leave over the years, to go past the tree line but none of them have returned. The people of your village believe them to be dead but you hold out hope that maybe they found something better.

You grab the first branch and haul yourself up. The first step is always the most difficult, with such a large distance between it and the forest floor. Going from there is only too easy, stepping from limb to limb as you make your rise to the top.

Three generations of your people have resided in this place. Some call it home but to you it is nothing more than a cage. The branches creating the bars which entrap you in this life. You wish to see the open sky unobscured by the reach of the trees, so everyday you make the climb to the highest tree top you can.

Those that had made previous attempts to escape left the forest perimeter on the ground, but you take your brief moment of freedom from up high. You delight in having found a weakness in his pen, one god surely would have difficulty watching all sides of the forest, why would he even bother to check the treetops? Up here you are safe, you are free. It may seem like a pointless rebellion but to you it’s everything, reaching beyond the branches has become your way of showing that you are not complacent.

On this climb you barely rise above the majority of the treeline. You yearn to go even higher but the next set of branches are too weak to support your weight. Settling in with your against the trunk you watch the birds soaring off in the distance, envying their wings and their freedom.

You’re only able to remain in your tree top few minutes each day, concerned that someone might find you up here. Those in the village believe you will bring the gods wrath upon them if you act out in any way. They have no wish to anger your keeper, fearing that your bloody history would play out once again...

In their effort to reach new scientific heights, your ancestors had brought on the downfall of their own human race. They thought to create a new species, one that was half human, half animal, with an intent to be used and to fill a variety of purposes. Little did your people know that they would revolt, a hybrid’s power could not be tamed, and they had no wish to be formed into a mould of a domesticated pet. The hybrids were so deeply ingrained in the lives of humans that it was only too easy for them to take control. They used all of the knowledge they had gathered and strength they had been breed to wield against their owners in a revolution.

The hybrids rose above their masters to take their place as gods. They took everything away that could be used against them, and divided your surviving race among their own. Your ancestors were sent to hide in the forest to live under the hybrids rule, their protection, while paying homage and give offerings to the new lords, and that is where your people have resided ever since.

When the divide first happened there were stories of these gods fighting each other for territory, trying to take humans from under another’s rule, or lay claim to land that was not their own. People say that they know each other’s weakness, that only gods can find a way to end the reign of another. But from what you know there has been no such question of your past gods’ or their descendants’ authority.

...

Once a week your village is expected to leave an offering at the edge of the forest. In exchange for the ‘protection’ given to your village you supply the beastly god with food. There’s no extravagant ceremony you simply leave the sack in the designated spot and leave. In the past you’ve been tempted to stay and see if you could witness the so-called-god, but he has never shown himself while you’re there.

Your walk to the edge is quiet, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. The usual sounds of the forest fail to reach this far with the only noise coming from the cracking of twigs beneath your feet. You are steps away from your intended location when your path becomes blocked, a massive feathered creature falling to the ground in in front of you.

In a panic you hide behind the nearest tree to observe the fallen beast. Your curiosity begs you to watch, outweighing the fear which orders you to flee.

Glossy black wings that could easily be twenty feet in span, sprout from a back of a male who currently lays face down in the dirt. The hybrid lets out a groan and a swear punching the ground on which he rests with a gloved fist. As he lifts his head you slide back to conceal yourself.

“Human?” He calls out to you. “I know your there, I can hear you breathing.”

You tremble and your back presses into the bark of the trunk. Your hand covering your mouth in a last ditch attempt to conceal yourself.

“I can still hear you.... I need your assistance.”

“I am to leave food nothing else, that’s the agreement.” You call out.

“Yes, you’re right, but I rather get out of here before the one who injured me comes to finish me off. I’ll make a deal with you if you assist me”

“Who injured you?” You asked with a quaking voice.

“A god who keeps you here, one who watches this forest.” His reply encourages you to poke out from behind the tree to view the beast. Could it be? Someone has finally come to challenge your gods rule?

His face is dirty and bruised but even that can not hide the sharpness to his facial features. His shirt is an unusual fashion, flowing down from over top of his shoulders and lacing just under the bottom of his wing. It appears to be intact with no wounds showing, but on his gloves you notice a dark stain, that of blood.

Wings splay out behind him, one fully extended but the other is curled and dragging on the ground slightly hidden from you. “I’m glad to see that I have your attention now.” A smirk crosses his face as he looks upon you with the same curiosity that you have for him.

“W-why are you here?”

“Property dispute.” He laughs as if it’s a joke, but it seems that immediately regrets his decision when a pained look crosses his face. His damaged wing shifts closer, allowing you to see several broken feathers at it’s crest along with the deep read stain of blood. “I need your help.”

“Why should I?” He might not be the god who has entrapped you here, but that doesn’t mean he is innocent either.

“You want to get out of this forest don’t you? I’m too injured to fly, I need you to hide me in the forest while I heal. Do this and I’ll take you out of here.”

He needs permission to set foot on the grounds of your forest, that was the deal struck when your race was confined, they have their space and you have yours. “How long before you can fly again?”

He looks at the damage to his wing carefully, “It’s difficult to say maybe a couple weeks, maybe month?”

“A month! You want me to hide you for a month?”

“I’ll need food and a place to rest as well. What’s one month when it will give you a life outside of this forest?”

You ponder his offer with a bite to your lip, the wings you have longed for have finally come to you, but unfortunately they are attached to... conditions. “When you’re healed, you promise to get me out of here?”

“When I can fly I promise you’ll never have to come back to these woods again.” He struggles to stand his wing weighing him down with him unable to lift it properly.

Emboldened by the guarantee of freedom you approach him carefully, ready to flee if he makes even the slightest aggressive move.

“Such a skittish little dove,” He remarks on your stance.

“That’s not my name,” You respond flatly.

“Oh then what is?” He pries, but you consider that information might be best to keep to yourself. He smiles, clearly seeing the conflict rise up in you, “No matter, you can call me Taehyung if you wish. We should get moving before he comes back. I may have injured him too but I don’t think it was as bad as my own state.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Come here,” he prompts you to move closer with an outreached hand.

Taking your arm he places you at his side, “I can’t hold it up very easily myself.” His injured wing nudges at your back, “May I?” You nod looking hesitant with the weight of the wing unsure if you’ll be able to support it either.

With a groan he stretches it out, the bridge of the wing comes to rest on your shoulders, the soft feathers tickling at your neck. It’s not as heavy as you expect, but there’s a warmth to it as if you’re wrapped in a down blanket. Relief breaks across his face, “Thank you,” he whispers with a deep sigh.

“I live a far bit outside of the village, you should be fine in my cabin as long as you don’t take any excursions.”

“Yes Little Dove,” He gives you a wide boxy smile, an indication that he might not be taking you as seriously as you hoped.

“I mean it, if someone even catches a glimpse of your face let alone your wings they’ll know something’s not right.” Your people would be furious if they found out you invited one of them in. They may obey the hybrid’s laws but it’s out of fear, not respect.

Your progress is slow, but that allows you to ease back to your door under the cover of darkness. As soon as you step inside you draw the curtains closed and light a couple of lamps in the small living room. “Sit down, I’ll fetch something for your wound.” You press him onto the couch while you find your supplies

Your kit looks grim. Alcohol and bandages will have to suffice, your stock has run low and the salve has reached the bottom of the tin.

As you return to him you can see that he is having difficulty reaching the wound with its location on the crest of his wing just behind his shoulder. “I think I’ll need your assistance again.”

“I-I don’t, I’ve never looked after...” You know the wings of birds to be fragile and the thought of damaging it more worries you.

“I can direct you.”

The cut for the most part has clotted and it doesn’t appear too deep, but this spot must incur a lot of strain during flight, making it impossible for him to fly in such a state.

Taehyung takes your hand hovers it over the affected area. He looks back to direct your touch as you stand in front of where he sits. “You see the broken and crooked feathers?” You nod touching the very tip of one. “Those are going going to have to come out.”

“What?!”

“They’ll grow back and it’s just a couple.” There are maybe five or six at most that look to be in terrible shape, but that doesn’t make the thought of what you are about to do any less daunting. You grab the first by it’s base and look back to him to make sure. Taehyung gives you a nod to proceed. As the stem dislodges he grabs your waist, his head leans into you while he gasps.

“Sorry,” You mutter unsure of what else to say.

“No it’s fine keep going.”

With the next feather his other wing unfurls and beats angrily knocking a chair over in the process. A slight whimper escapes him drawing pity from you. You had expected his kind to be strong and without pain but here he is exhibiting a weakness.

“Almost done,” You whisper as his long fingers continue to hold you.

After pulling out the last, you step back from him, with a half dozen quills in your hand. You examine the black plumage carefully, admiring their beauty and the way they shine in the candle light.

You can feel Taehyung’s eyes on you, watching you as your fingers glide over the feathers. You blush offering them back to the winged man.

“You can keep them Little Dove,” he chuckles, “I have plenty.”

You smile, embarrassed by the fact that he had caught your interest in them. Soaking a cloth in the clear alcohol you move forward again, with the broken feathers out of the way you have a better view of the cut. You perch yourself carefully not hovering this time but kneeling next to him on the couch with one leg between his to get a closer look. There a bit of dirt from his fall, you can only hope that the alcohol will be enough to prevent it from getting infected. “This is going to hurt too,” you warn him.

“I doubt it will be worse than... fu-fuck!” His good wing curls round closing in as he pulls you to his chest in reaction to the pain. You are the one to gasp this time as his mouth nips down on your shoulder.

“Taehyung?” You make an attempt to pull his hands off but his grip digs in like a pair of talons latching to its prey. “Taehyung, that hurts! You have to let go, you have to let me finish.” He releases you slowly but you can still feel him winch with every touch of the cloth. Finding a fresh linen you question how you should secure it. It’s not like you can wrap it in place that would have to encompass the entire width of his wing and might damage some of his other feathers.

You take a look through your cupboards looking for anything that might function as an adhesive. Your eyes settle on a golden jar of honey, it’s a decent antiseptic and hopefully it should make the cloth stick too. With the flat of a spoon you spread it over the bandage and place it carefully on, you smile in success when it appears to be secure.

“Thank you Little Dove, I guess you humans have a few more uses than I thought,” He laughs.

Your face falls at his comment, remembering what he truly is. What his kind have done to your people. “Get some sleep, you’ll need it to heal.” You growl standing to make a swift exit to your room.

“Wait, how am I supposed to sleep with my wings on a couch?” He whines back looking confused by the change in your tone.

“Figure it out yourself, I’ve just reached the limit of my usefulness.” You throw back at him in anger, slamming your bedroom door shut behind you. He’s your ticket out of here, one month and your free, one month and you can escape this enclosed life and try to find something even greater. You look down to the feathers in your hand and set them on your side table, wishing that you could have your own and not have to rely on his.

Sleep does not come easy that night, every sound from the other room has you wondering what the beast might be up to, and whether you can actually trust him to keep his side of the bargain.

...

You rise with the sun peering in the large window of your bedroom. Carefully stepping out to your living room you find Taehyung sprawled out on the couch, cuddling one of the cushions while his injured wing lays flat, propped up by one of your chairs. On the stove fire you bring a pot of water to boil, using it to fill two bowls of oatmeal and a basin.

You try to wake him, but after calling his name and shaking his shoulder you find this task to be pointless. The bandage has to be changed before you leave, if he refuses to wake up beforehand he will within a minute or two after you start. You dip the rag into the basin of warm water and place it over the gauze patch melting the honey to allow for an easier removal.

You can see a sleepy smile creep onto Taehyung’s face, he abandons the pillow and allows his arms to trail over you instead. This all comes to a halt as you remove the bandage. His eyes fly open as a hiss greets you. “What the hell?”

“What? I tired to wake you, but I guess I can’t help you with that either.”

“Fuck,” He groans in pain, “I’m sorry okay? It was a stupid comment.”

“If you are going to stay here you either respect me as an equal, or I’ll throw you out of the cabin. I have to leave soon, so let me finish. I made you food, not sure if you’re able to eat it though.”

“I’m not picky, my kind can eat anything.”

You reapply the honey to a new linen square and dress the wound once again, as he takes the bowl of porridge.

After finishing you gather your cloak and boots that you discarded haphazardly the day before.

“Where are you going?” He looks up to you before taking another bite of his meal.

“I’m one of the foragers, I look for additional food that’s not grown on the smaller farms, mushrooms berries, nuts, whatever we can get our hands on.” You explain while tying a boot.

His eyes grow wide, “You shouldn't go out there it’s not safe for you.”

“Yeah well, your kind should have thought of that before you drove us into the second dark age.”

“That was for your safety too. It wasn’t just about our freedom, you humans have a way of destroying yourselves and everything around you, my ancestors were trying to protect what was left.”

“Then it should be perfectly fine now...” you goad him.

“Stay away from the edge of the forest,” He instructs. “And don’t climb any trees.”

“How did you...” You stop for a second stunned by his knowledge of your little secret.

“Please, just trust me.” Taehyung gives not further explanation, he only stares back at you with a distinct look of sincerity.

You wish you could question him more but you have to leave, or some of the other foragers might come to your cabin to find you.

...

You return that evening to find Taehyung wide eyed with worry. He smiles brightly at you but the stress and confinement has clearly left him agitated.

“Okay talk, you clearly know more than you let on.”

“I’m not sure what...”

“Don’t climb any trees?” You throw your cloak down on the chair beside you in frustration. You thought all day about the possibilities and the questions you need to ask of him, wasting no time before grilling him with your inquiries, “How do you know that I do that when no one else in this village does. Why are you really here?”

“I’ve seen you before,” Taehyung looks down at his feet while he exposes his truth. “When you were climbing. I had never seen a human do that before, you peaked my interest.”

“Really? That was why you came?”

“What can I say? My kind have a weakness for pretty things... and you’re little rebellion drew me in.” He looks back to you again with a side smile. “I wanted to come find you, maybe even take you from this place. Your god does not have your best interest at heart, or at least the type of freedom you desire.”

“What is he?”

“A winged creature the same as myself, a crow hybrid.”

“But today you said I wasn’t safe, what’s changed from all the days before?”

Taehyung takes a deep breath looking hesitant to share the next bit of information with you, “Rumour is that he’s looking for a mate, and has you in mind. I’m not the only one who saw you climbing. You look so very much at home in the trees, I can see why he chose you.”

You are beyond revolted by the thought, bile begins to rise in your throat, a panic sets in as you consider the imposing threat of a god’s affection. You sit down next to Taehyung cowering with you hands on your face, “But he can’t, he can’t take me. He made a pact with my people, he can’t even set foot in the forest unless we give permission.”

“No he can’t,” Taehyung removes your grip from yourself, and takes your chin in his own hands to ensure that you are focused on him, that you take in every word as cautionary advice. “Not unless you leave the forest with him, for your sake don’t leave my side. No matter what happens, no matter what tricks he plays or what he might do to persuade you, don’t leave with anyone else but me. If you step outside with him willingly you become his property. If that happens I can’t save you.”

“You were hurt before, do you really think we can leave if he is determined?”

“I do, I was caught off guard when he attacked. Let’s just say I have friends in high places who will prevent that from happening again.”

...

The weeks that follow are by no means unpleasant. Although the hybrid was arrogant at first he soon comes down to your level. While you tell him of your life here and your true name, he returns the favour of your honestly with tales of flight and what it feels like to soar through the sky.

You had no idea what to expect living with him, there some habits that of his you enjoy, and others that can be a little... frustrating. You once spent half an hour looking for your cloak only to find that Taehyung had stolen it to add to his bed. He apologized saying that it is a trait of his kind. Little things of yours still go missing though, most are found in the same place, wrapped within the nest of blankets that he has created on the couch, but there must be a half dozen objects which you’ve never managed to track down again. As an apology for taking your belongings he leaves feathers on your pillow. A smile crosses your face each time as you add them to the collection on your bedside table. This soft ink-black bouquet has become the focal point of your room, one from which you cannot draw your eyes away, a lure that leads your thoughts back to Taehyung even after you leave him for the night.

To your delight his wing is healing rapidly, everyday you feel one step closer to freedom. He couldn’t have come at a better time with the pressures from your village. They have been telling you that it’s time to settle down, to stop living with your head in the clouds, and start thinking about the future of this little town and how you can contribute. But every time they bring up the possibility of a match your mind drifts to Taehyung.

You haven’t even escaped with him yet but when you’re with him you feel unrestrained. How he rather observe your actions and listen to your thoughts rather than criticize them like those in your village. He is the only one to have ever give you a choice in what you wanted, and now because of that you find yourself longing for him.

...

“You shouldn’t go out there today Little Dove,”

“I won’t go near the edge of the forest.”

“No it’s not just that. There’s a storm coming.” You notice the slight shiver to his skin as he says those words. The feathers of his wings ruffle and puff out, he looks as if his instinct is telling him to flee.

You begin to worry but not for the same reasons, a winter storm this early could be devastating to the food collection.

“I have to, if there’s is a storm on the way we need to gather everything we can before it’s covered in snow. I’ll keep an eye out and come back before it hits.”

You know that Taehyung would want you to stay close but in all good conscience you can’t. Instead you push yourself even further into the depths of the forest, separating from the rest of the party. You reach areas to forage that you usually don’t use until later in the season. With winter on it’s the way sooner than expected you can’t afford to miss this opportunity to gather all you can.

It was a stupid thing to do you realize on your trek back, you’re not even a quarter of the way home when the freezing rain begins to pelt your cloak. Your hands grow painfully numb from the cold lashing against your skin. An hour later and you are still haven’t returned, your clothes are thoroughly soaked with parts of the cloth freezing in the frigid air.

The day goes from bad to worse when the snow starts, obscuring your vision as it falls from the sky. You can only pray that you are heading in the right direction, as your feet move forward. The world completely awash by the flurry around you.

Your progress slows as you step into the drifts. The icy chill penetrates deep into your legs, leaving you barely able to move, and your mind unwilling to focus on anything other than the warmth you crave. Your sight grows fuzzy, leaving you to question it as you catch glimpses of what you desire, black feathers, littering the ground and the path in front of you. You look to the sky but are only meet with the blanket of white that continues to fall. You can’t be sure if you are just seeing things, that maybe your mind has created a delusion of hope to lead you on. But you follow the trail of feathers regardless, wanting so badly to be embraced by the warm wings you know so well.

Between the gusts of wind you can almost here whispers of the name he has given you, ‘Little Dove.’ You follow the soft voice in a trance desperate to leave this frozen place by any means necessary.

It’s not until you hear shouting behind you that you are shaken from your daze.

“No Little Dove, that’s the wrong way!” Taehyung's voice and arm close in around you blocking out everything else. He shrouds you with a cloak which he too hides beneath. His wings forming a large mound of a back but still hidden from view.

He picks you up and turns back in the direction from which he came. Trudging through the snow drifts that had made you stumble.

Once you reach the cabin he pulls off your cloak and sets you in front of the glowing fire in your bedroom. Proceeding to layer it with log after log until it’s as tall as the stove will allow. Every candle and lamp in the room is lit by his hand. The warmth is slow to hit while your clothes are still frozen. Pulling a blanket from your bed you strip beneath leaving your undergarments on wrapped beneath the heavy fibres.

Taehyung to begins to undress too although modesty does not seem to be a concern of his. Exposing everything to the air except what lies beneath his underwear. He takes a seat next to you on the floor in front of the fire. “You promised you would be back in time. What were you thinking? He almost had you.”

“I lost track of time, when the storm set in I couldn’t see.” Your teeth chatter as you try to absorb the heat.

“You’re lucky I came to find you.”

Taehyung stretches out his wings behind you shaking them slightly to dislodge the moisture that seeped in through his cloak.

You turn to face one of the wings letting your arm reach up from beneath the blanket. Your fingers brush through his damp feathers, grooming them back into place. There’s a low vibration at the back of his throat as his eyes close.

“Why did you? You’re almost healed you could probably manage flight on your own. It would be easier for you to escape that way.” You pause with your fingers buried deep in down coat of his wing as you look up to his content face.

“Please don’t stop,” he begs looking down to place his hand on yours, urging you to keep going. “I told you I came to find you, I gave you my word. Do you think that I wish to lose you to someone else? Or that I would leave you to escape out there alone?”

Taehyung takes a deep breath causing his wings to shudder beneath your touch, “Little Dove, I’m sorry I should have told you sooner but the freedom which you were looking for, it does not exist for humans. Not outside of these confined spaces. Those who are found unaccompanied are either killed or taken to maintain control. I question taking you out there without you knowing that it truly is safer in here. I would rather rip these wings off than expose you to those who reside out there. I wish I could live with you in this cage forever, with you and you alone.”

It’s as the village has always told you, but even now knowing the definite truth you still find yourself wishing to leave, “Please keep your promise, I don’t care about the consequences anymore I just need to leave this forest.”

“I won’t break it. I just need to make you aware of what you might see out there. It’s a life of basic instinct, one that you won’t be able to survive alone. If you want to exist in safety you’ll be forced to stay by my side. Do you really think you can handle that Little Dove?” His deep voice echoes through you as his hands trail your back. “What would your people say if they saw you with a beast like me?”

“I don’t care. They are set in their ways with their feet rooted to the ground, they are part of this cage. I’ve never wanted to leave as much as I do now, I want to leave here with you, I want to stay with you.”

Your hand moves from his wing to touch his cheek, when you hesitate an inch from his face he leans in to meet your grasp. His lips graze the skin of your palm as he looks at you through narrowed eyes. It’s as if your touch has woken a demon inside of him, one who demands your surrender, which you are only too glad to give. He rips the blanket from your shoulders and crashes into your chest. His mouth finds yours and wastes no time before claiming the warmth behind your lips.

Taehyung rises up tugging you off the floor and into his arms, completely encasing you with the walls his wings as you stand against him. Feeling his feathers caress the bareness of your back as you are pressed to his chest sends shivers through you. His mouth nips at your neck with sharp bites. Your feel like the pain should bother you but you find yourself wanting more, more of him, more of this.

You are tired of this enclosure that you live in. How everyone considers the fact that they are being watched, causing them to act too good, too pure, and never giving into what they truly desire. Is it so bad to want feel everything at the hands of the man currently holding you?

“I long for the day where I can leave with you, and tell everyone that you’re mine. I want to show them how I can make you feel.” His hand trails to your chest, reaching behind to unlatch you bra, “The blush rising to your skin,” His hands continue downwards falling next under the band of your underwear pushing them down until they fall to the floor, “the dampness between your legs,” You fold into him as his fingers touch the arousal to which he was just referring, “The look on your face as I take you. Would you like that? To show your god that you belong to me?”

You smile at the thought, your little rebellion becoming far more than climbing trees, “More than anything.”

Taehyung growls with pleasure. “Little Dove.” He turns you around and guides his shaft inside you from behind as your legs wobble on the floor. His hand reaches down to rub the swollen numb at your crest. He stays like that for a moment, no movement no thrusting, just letting you get used to the girth between your legs. Your body begins to overheat, desperate with a wish for him to continue.

“Do you truly want to show him how I fuck you, how you enjoy taking my cock?”

“Yes.” You whisper back only able to answer with a single word while the rest of you voice is lost in a moan.

“As you wish.” Taehyung unfurls his wings and pins you against the large window of your room. A loud cry leaves you from the shock of the cool glass pressing against you. “If he’s watching, let’s give him a show,” He growls in your ear.

The exposure is overwhelming, the window pane is freezing against your sensitive chest, the thought that someone might see you is terrifying, but at the same time you can feel the arousal drip down your thighs as he shoves you against the glass with each thrust. His hands come to find yours against the window and cling to them. While your breath leaves a wave of condensation against the pane.

“Is this okay Little Dove? Do you like how I have you splayed out for all to see?” You nod giving him a whimper as he thrusts once again. “It’s such a pretty sight.” Taehyung whispers into your ear and proceeds to nip at your lobe.

He pulls out and flips you around forcing your back against the glass. Taehyung wraps your arms around his neck before taking one your thighs in each hand. He lifts you up and glides back in. “Fuck Little Dove, if I had known you would be this soft and warm I would have come to you sooner.”

His pace is relentless as he continues to swell inside you. Pressing even further against you, he helps you to lock your legs around his back. After the coolness of the glass, feeling the warmth of his chest against yours is so soothing that the tightness inside you starts to unravel. You clench down causing him to gasp and swear as you come on his cock. You quake in his arms unable to hang on as the pleasure runs through you.

“Tae-Taehyung...” You shudder in his hands your head drooping to your arm on the crook of his neck.

“That’s it, sing for me Little Dove.” He forces your head back and snaps down on your neck with his teeth. As you unleash another moan for him, you can feel his warmth spill inside you. He remains within while his lips begin to stroke across your skin, giving a soft caress to the area he just assaulted with his teeth. The rise and fall of his chest slows and matches yours as you both catch your breath.

He lowers you both down to the floor on the discarded blanket in front of the window with you resting on top of him. You make an attempt to reach for a cloth to clean up the cum seeping from you, when Taehyung stops you by folding over his wings to entrap you against him.

“No you don’t, you’re staying right here.”

You blush as you try to explain the reasoning behind your actions, “I’m going to drip all over you...”

“Good,” He reaches around your back, arching himself forward to lay his fingers against your swollen folds. “Why would I want to waste this?” You twitch as the tips run along you slit. “You are mine Little Dove and this proves it.” His index slides inside, drawing a whine from the sensation and twitch at his touch. His other arm wraps around your waist keeping you locked against him as he adds another finger to the first. You continue to writhe against him but he does not relent.

Your hands grip his chest as you find yourself chasing that release once again. Taehyung smiles down at you as you give into him for a second time. His wings draw even closer teasing your back with light touches as his fingers become more ruthless. Your walls close in and throb around his digits as the orgasm tears through you.

When his fingers pull out you are left with a breathless sigh. He draws his damp tips across your ass and lower back, as his mutters down to you with a smirk. “If you try to clean up again, I promise to paint you with even more of your cum and my own, is that understood?”

You relax against him nodding with a grin, you look to the cloth and consider rebelling for a third time before you fall asleep.

...

The next morning you wake still cocooned in Taehyung’s wings. The warmth of the sun absorbed in his feather is makes it a cozy spot. You poke your head out to look through the window, finding the forest bright with the light reflecting off the fresh snow and ice layered on the bark.

But as you look further up in the trees you still, unable to believe the sight. Resting on a branch you find a creature with an enormous black wings, a reach even farther than Taehyung’s mounted behind a pair of broad shoulders. The face peering down could easily be that of god, even if it is not truly divine.

In a panic you shake Taehyung while keeping your eyes on the beast, “Taehyung wake up.”

“Mmm, but you’re so warm Little Dove.”

“H-he’s out there...”

Taehyung shoots up to glance out the window, a look of disdain rooting into his expression as glares up. “Time’s up, we have to go,” He mutters pressing the blanket on to you for cover as you both get up.

“How is he even in the forest? He has no right.”

“You’re laws have holes, he has not set foot on the forest grounds, he has broken no rules by being there. This is why I asked you not to climb the trees.”

You closed the curtains and throw on your nearest outfit, before asking the most important question. “Are you healed enough to fly?”

“I can get you out of here, I can get you to safety, I promise. We have to get to the edge of the forest though, I need more room though can’t take off and fly with you through the trees they’re too narrow.”

You quickly pack small satchel with a few essentials. Your eyes linger on the stray feathers on your table before packing those too. They’ve become so valuable to you, you can’t bear the the thought of leaving them behind.

You both rush out the back door running through the trees heading south to the nearest break in the woods. A shadow looming overhead as you run.

Taehyung stops and looks up as your pursuer does the same, “Keep going I’ll take care of him, wait for me near the edge.”

“Taehyung...” You begin argue back.

“I’ll be fine, just remember what I said.”

Before you can give him another word he runs back towards the god, taking to the trees with one swift leap.

The snow is still deep and uneven in parts slowing your exit, so when the break in the forest appears in front of you, you feel a deep relief. Your freedom is almost here you are so close to touching it. You thought that your wait might be over as a set of black wings lower in front of you, but they are not Taehyung's, nor do they belong to the god who peered down at you from the trees.

The winged man offers you a hand, he puts on a friendly face with a bright smile. “You need to come with me.”

You back away knowing what will happen if you do.

Sensing your fear he urges your hand to come to his once again, “I know Taehyung, I’ll bring him to you once your safe.”

He may know Taehyung’s name but you still can’t trust him, “I’m not leaving with you, I know how your games work.”

“Oh Little Dove, you have no idea...” A wicked smile appears on his face, as he witnesses the rise in confusion with the use of your nickname.

Taehyung comes up from behind pulling you into his arms. “Nice try Hoseok, did you make a deal with Seokjin to distract me?”

“It was worth a shot.” Hoseok’s face falls to bitterness as he looks to the man holding you.

Taehyung looks ready to pounce upon this hybrid too, but Just as Taehyung fell on the day that you meet him another pair of wings darts down from this sky. Although this decent appears to be more calculated, taking down the beast called Hoseok.

“Yoongi...” Taehyung calls out stepping forward to help him.

“Go! I’ve got him.” The hybrid shouts pinning the other beneath him.

Taehyung turns to you, “If you want to leave with me, we have to go now.”

He holds out his long slender fingers, to take yours. You hesitate but follow through, knowing that you would give anything to escape the wooden cage behind you.

The second your hand touches his and you step over the line he swoops you up into his arms. Seeing the full span of his wings takes your breath away. He holds you close as he lifts from the ground, the smile on your face grows as you reach the unobstructed blue sky, leaving the forest behind. But your joy is short lived for you don’t even travel out of view of the forest before his pace slows.

“Your wing, is it okay?”

“Of course Little Dove,” you turn your head away from the sky to the direction in which you are heading, finding a house built high on the branches of a tree. He sets you down on the balcony of the wooden house and presses you inside with a soft kiss to you check. “Welcome home...”

You look around you surroundings and notice a few of your missing belongings scattered about, from clothes, to jewellery that had been passed down to you, as well as one of your favourite books. You take one of your shirts in hand as you question him, “What do you mean home? Why are we still so close...” Your heart stops as his smile grows. “No, you said you’d keep me safe...”

“My nest is safe, where it always has been, and always will be watching over the forest.”

The god you’ve always hated... the one you’ve always tried to rebel against... the one who was looking for a mate. Stands in front of you with a look of victory etched into his face.

“You didn’t belong in there, your more like my kind than human. I could see it in your eyes, how you craved the open sky. I knew from the first time I saw you in that tree you would make the perfect addition to our nest, how pretty you would look woven into our midst.”

“Our midst?”

The three hybrids you had just seen in the woods descend upon the house... accompanied by three more. As they enter you back yourself into a corner, trying to keep your eyes on every face, every winged enemy that stands in front of you. Not just one god, but seven.

Taehyung follows you making sure not leaving your side, “My brothers and I, just like the crows we descend from we stay together. When we found you we made a deal, whoever took you from the forest by their hand, whoever could convince you to leave would take control of the flock..and you. I was given the first attempt.”

“Your injury, the fighting between you, it was all fake. You tricked me?”

“Oh the injury was real, Jungkook was not happy that he would have to wait. As I said we are beasts, he tried to stop me from meeting you. Just as my other brothers fought me to take their chance and leave with you.

“Last night, in the storm?”

“Jimin,” Taehyung glares over to the shortest male who looks to you with a smirk, “Wanted to see if he could tempt you before I could.”

“You should have continued to follow my voice Little Dove, you were so close. I would have kept you warm.” Jimin coos.

You stunned to silence you look down to the shirt in your hands, gripping in until your knuckles turn white, fear and anger coursing through you. Taehyung follows you sight, “Forgive me, I traded those things to keep my brothers complacent, to buy more time with you. They were so happy when you accepted their feathers in return, they’ll be even happier to know that you kept them with you.”

You immediately drop the bag that they are contained in, overwhelmed with the feeling that you might be sick.The tallest brother reaches out to you with concern on his face, but the thought of him touching leads you to pull back and him to fall away.

“Don’t worry Little Dove, Namjoon won’t hurt you, none of them will. They’ve dreamt of you just as much as I. They were so thankful for the display you gave last night they could wait no longer to have you too.” Taehyung takes your upper arm and tugs you towards him placing his lips on your neck in a soft kiss.

“Taehyung please, stop. I can’t... I don’t want this.” You beg in tears, trying to pull away.

He holds firm and brushing the dampness from your face, “Nothing has changed between us, I can still give you the sky. I didn’t want to frighten you, can you honestly say that you would have given me a chance if you had known the truth?”

“No, and I still wouldn’t!” You curse your stupidity, letting your desire for freedom blind you from the truth. You leapt from your cage, and landed straight into their nest. A nest high in a tree with no low branches for escape.

“You left off your own accord, you took my hand willingly. Resist if you wish, if it will make you content.” Taehyung smiles in no way dissuaded but your tone, he turns to hold you from behind allowing his brothers to look upon you while he traps you with an arm around you waist. A low whisper from him reaches your ear and seize your soul, “But you should know by now, you can’t climb away Little Dove, every rebellion only brings you closer to me.”

#bts smut #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #yandere bts #bts hybrid au #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #v x reader #bts reader insert #bts thriller au #bts hybrid #bts beastly gods

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my-fanfic-library · 4 years

Text

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [2]

Masterlist

~^*^~

His wicked eyes were set on your form. You were trying hard not to quiver under his heated gaze. How had he managed to get out? Did he have to rip his way out of that cell or was he allowed to walk free for some unknown reason? Not that the answer to those questions even mattered. A 6’4” vampire who had openly discussed your influence on his appetite was standing before you.

Should you flee? How does one overpower a vampire, anyhow? You had read in the account and heard it right from his mouth that Dracula could turn into certain creatures. It would take one shift of him into the black, beastly wolf for him to hunt you down with ease. You’d never even make it back up the slipway.

Your mind pounded and the indication that your heart was doing summersalts came to your attention as Dracula audibly took in a breath. He hummed in satisfaction as he released your scent. He knew he had managed to catch you completely off guard.

Within your bag, your phone began to vibrate and Dracula looked accusingly down at it. You bit your lip, fingers delving in to grab the decode and quickly answer.

“[First]?” Zoe’s voice rang through your ear.

“Zo-Zoe...” your lips trembled and it had nothing to do with the cool sea breeze.

“They let him out. They let Dracula out!” Her voice was in a similar state of panic and you knew it was because she was one of the only other people in the world who knew of his capabilities.

“Zoe, I-“

“Apparently he has a lawyer! Can you believe it?! Anyway, you need to be careful. He seemed to take a liking to you during the time you spent with him today. Promise me you’ll look after yourself.”

“Zoe-“

“Promise me, [First]-“

“It’s a little bit too late for that...” you trailed off, eyes locking with the man’s towering above you.

“How do you-... Where are you?!”

You had no chance to reply as cool fingers brushed against your own. You watched in horror as Dracula snatched the device from you and lifted it to his own ear.

“Dr. Van Helsing, how nice to get into contact... yes I know... trust me, I know... I suppose you could say it is a curiosity of sorts. It’s mere curiosity... what am I doing it for? Something different. Don’t bother us again, we’re busy.”

You could hear Zoe’s desperate pleas on the other end of the phone but Dracula had already figured out how to end a phone call and that was that.

“Absolutely amazing...” he breathed, turning your phone through his fingers as he inspected it, “they gave me a larger one in the Foundation. Did you know you can do practically anything on these little things? And it must be enchanted, considering it can deliver your voice to someone else so far away.” The wonder held in his eyes as he spoke made him seem almost human. Almost.

“Yes, I knew that...” you began, voice slow and as steady as possible, “but it’s not enchanted, it’s electric.”

“Electric...? How curious...”

“What is it that you wanted, and don’t just repeat your answer.” You folded you arms, trying to remain composed but your mind was whirring with the thought that this may be your last moment or two alive. If he really had decided to choose you as his next meal...

He sighed, an agitation growing deep in his chest. One of the only things he had ever craved so deeply was company. Most humans that he had interacted with were dull, cardboard cutouts of one another. Over 500 years of the same specimen got old and fast. There had only ever been a handful of humans that satisfied his thirst for something other than blood - good company. And Jonathan Harker, Sister Agatha Van Helsing and her descendant Dr. Zoe Van Helsing had been the only ones to peak his curiosity. But hours ago, when you had come in with a front of iron, and a poorly hidden core nothing short of anxiety-ridden, you had peaked this curiosity once more.

The sea groaned away in the distance and the seagulls had decided on steering well away from the undead figure on the sand. It was much more quiet, much more intimate and grew much more darker with every passing moment. Dracula’s eyes seemed locked on you, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to read between the lines of your stoic gaze up at him.

“What would you like my answer to be, [First]?” He inquired softly.

“Truthful, for starters.”

“Alright. You see, after 5 centuries of the same old types of people, one becomes accustomed to those who flee and quiver at the mere sight of a beast such as myself. I will never forget the day I made my entrance at the nunery Sister Agatha resided at.” At the mention of this woman’s name, you noticed a tenderness fill his voice and a small smile threatened the corners of his lips. A spark of wonder lit up in your chest. Had a cold, ancient, blood drinking beast grown a soft spot for one of the only people to put him in his place? His eyes glazed over momentarily and he seemed to look right through you.

“You still haven’t answered the question and you’re about to drool at the thought of this Sister Agatha.” You rolled your eyes. He immediately snapped out of it and there was a low rumble emitting from his chest for a split second.

“I like good company. Sister Agatha was good company. She was inquisitive and intrusive of my routine. While she lost our personal battle, she most certainly won my attention.” He looked down at you and noticed goosebumps rising on your skin. The sky was darkening even more and the navy had stretched out and was almost kissing the horizon, “goodness it’s late for a mortal, isn’t it?” His eyes glossed over the North Sea that expanded far into the horizon.

“Count Dracula?” You spoke, “are you going to kill me - or are you waiting for me to submit myself to you?” You has to ask. You needed to know if your life had reached its expiration date.

“Hm? Oh, not at all.” He looked down and then back towards you, a most wicked and mischievous grin taking hold over his features, “whilst I do enjoy a little food play every now and again,” he stepped forward and his right hand came up to cup your face delicately, “I have no intention of feasting upon you. Not yet, at least. Your scent alone is intoxicating. But your wit, your strength and your character are making me so very interested in you, Miss [First].” He stepped forwards, beginning to close the already small gap between you, “no, I think I’m going to have to keep an eye on you, young lady.” He spoke gently, eyes now boring down into your own. His orbs glistened in the moonlight, “I want to see just what you’re capable of.” He whispered.

“Maybe another time.” You suggested. Your eyes flitted up to the moon and back to him, “if all of this vampire lore is real, surely you should be off to your Transylvanian Earth to protect yourself?”

“And why would I do that?” He scoffed.

“Because it’s a full moon and that means werewolves.”

At the mere notion, the Count could no suppress the deep and hearty chuckle that bubbled up from his stomach. His eyes crinkled and his laughter caused him to bare his white teeth, currently blunt and of no means a weapon brandished to hurt you. For a moment, disbelief struck you as his laughs echoed along the beach and he let go of your face to smooth over his jacket. It took another moment for him to gain composure.

“Werewolves - now you’re being ridiculous.” He smirked down at you. He shoved one hand into his pocket.

“So a 523 year old vampire from Transylvania who wants to befriend a human because they’re using scientifically proved tactics to not die as prey and wants to know if there is any more substance to that is totally just mormal but you draw the line at warewolves? The supposed arch-enemy of vampires?”

“It’s ridiculous, I mean, how on Earth would the first warewolf even be created?”

“Well how were you created?” You challenged.

“Well, when a man loves a woman-“ he smirked.

“If you continue to speak, I really will drive a stake right through your chest.” He groaned inwardly at your response.

“I must admit, I do like your flare. You are very much lively, aren’t you?” He cocked his head.

“Livelier than you.”

~^*^~

When you awoke the next morning, you knew that you were in for some serious trouble. Zoe had left you over 30 missed calls, along with a plethora of concerned text messages inquiring about your and Dracula’s whereabouts. Although you could no longer answer for the Count, you found yourself sending a snarky reply that you were currently in bed. This turned out to be a mistake as within 10 minutes, your front door had burst open and Zoe, along with five armed men appeared at the foot of your bed.

You should have known that Zoe of all people would have freaked out over your contact with Dracula - she had been chasing him her entire life. Now he had been found. Not only had he been found, he had somewhat been resurrected and was on the prowl again for food and destruction. And you were a prime target.

After checking your body for bite marks, she began to harass you for every single detail about your encounter with Dracula the previous evening. You told her about him finding warewolf lore ridiculous, the obvious obsession he seemed to have with Sister Agatha, and how he had most likely revealed just a little too much to you about his true intentions. He wanted good company and anyone who rose to challenge him or stand out from the usual screaming meals he usually dealt with was a possible target for his attention.

“I don’t get it... I mean, I kind of do, it must be lonely to have everyone be afraid of- no I don’t get it.” Zoe sighed, “he’s an unnatural predator. Everyone is meant to be scared of him. A lion would never go for a snake because the snake would never be afraid of a lion. It wouldn’t even pay the snake any attention whatsoever! It would go after a zebra or something. So why is Dracula so focused on the snakes...”

“Thank you for insinuating that I am a snake, Zo.” You rolled your eyes.

“Not just you, but it seemed Jonathan Harker was a snake in Dracula’s hunting ground as well as Sister Agatha... I am said to look just like her, and I take no bull crap from him either...” You could tell she was losing you as she drifted off into a train of thought, “you’re going to have to cater to Dracula. We need to know what makes him tick.”

“What? So you’re going to use me as bait to do your little experiments on him?” You frowned.

“You said yourself he doesn’t intend on harming you.”

“Yeah, because a vampire never lies, huh, Zoe?”

“Please, [First]. I promise you we will do everything to keep you safe.”

“You better have a whole S.W.A.T. styled team on my ass at all times, Zo.”

“Only the best for my favourite assosicate.” Your ease to obey her wishes and commands caused a smile to break out on her features.

~^*^~

Walking along the pier, you allowed the hot summer breeze to ruffle your hair and cool your hot skin a little. Looking to your right was the Abbey perched high on the cliffs. You could make out some forms of the last tourists enjoying their visit. The sun had yet again sunken well below the horizon and your heart thumped in your chest. You anticipated a certain undead male’s arrival at any moment. It wasn’t that you had invited him out, but you knew that if he had become attached to your scent, he’d find you.

It was only a matter of time before he did find you. And you dreaded that moment.

#probably sucks like the last one sorry but yall asked for it #also i kind of know where im going with this but not really #im just enjoying writing drac #dracula #bbc dracula #claes bang #dracula x reader #bbc dracula x reader #dolly wells

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louiserandom · 4 years

Text

Choose Your Own Adventure - MadaTobi Soulmate AU Arc II

Heart’s Desire (Ice and Fire)

Rated: E

Summary: A touch is all it takes, to find one’s soulmate, to initiate an exchange of chakra natures and powers that would later intermingle and make both of them stronger. Madara craves this—or at least thinks he does, until he awakens one morning sans Sharingan, his chakra alien and freezing, and watches an angry Senju Tobirama crash into his room, glaring murder at Madara with what used to be his exclusive Mangekyō pattern.

Or, Soulmate Idiots in Love and you get to choose how these fools get to the love part

A/N: Finally got to the second arc :3 Arc I updated over here. Read the whole story on AO3 or Arc II under the cut :3 (and just in case, all the survey comment replies will be on AO3)

Chapter 6

Madara awakens feeling refreshed and oddly comfortable, with vague memories of surprisingly enjoyable dreams. A pleasantly warm weight rests atop him, quiet birdsong echoing from the outside as the sun’s rays caress his eyelids.

The morning seems perfect.

Right up until the second he opens his eyes to see a fluffy mass of white-gray hair right under his nose and his sleep-addled brain informs him that it’s Tobirama Senju using Madara’s chest as a pillow.

Which doesn’t make any fucking sense.

What is he even—oh, right.

Memories of yesterday’s wreck of a conversation rush through his mind and he curses himself, as well as all the gods that thought it’d be a fun idea to bond him to this insolent prick.

(The insolent prick who has his arms slung around Madara like a godsdamned octopus, which really shouldn’t feel as good as it does.)

Deep breaths. No panic. Everything is going to be fine.

All Madara has to do is wake him up and push him off, not necessarily in that order.

It’s then that Tobirama squirms against him in search of a more comfortable position, just so happening to press against Madara’s crotch—and of course, Madara’s cock is half-hard.

Fuck, his thought process stalls.

That’s just his luck. Virtually nonexistent.

He attempts to reposition them to disentangle them at least a little, but that proves difficult with Tobirama’s iron hold. To make matters worse, he clutches at Madara harder after just the first hints of movement.

Fuck.

“Senju?” Madara tries, a bit panicked as he tries and fails to ignore the tingling arousal building in the base of his stomach, spurred on by the mesh of their chakras sending wave after wave of soft, thrumming pleasure through his limbs.

Fuck.

On second thought, maybe he shouldn’t wake Tobirama just yet.

“I hate you,” Madara whispers, not quite sure whom he’s talking to—Tobirama, the gods, or himself.

Using more of his strength but still being slow and careful, Madara forcefully flips them over, pins Tobirama’s wrists with his and lifts his hips to avoid… unnecessary friction.

Well. That’s one problem solved.

Despite the scuffle, Tobirama somehow remains asleep, and a slight frown is his only reaction to the movement.

The sight makes Madara pause.

It’s so strange seeing him like this, unbothered by bureaucratic concerns or obsessive research, completely relaxed next to someone who was, not too long ago, an enemy. With long white lashes resting on his cheeks, lips slightly parted and his hair strewn on the pillow, chest rising and falling with soft, even breaths, Tobirama looks… unthreatening. Approachable. Peaceful. It’s mesmerizing in a way that makes Madara lament his lack of Sharingan so he can’t embed this rare occurrence into memory.

The thought seems normal, until it doesn’t, and the panic returns full force.

Fuck.

He scrambles off the bed and, ignoring the pulses of pain returning to gnaw at him and goes to sit at his desk, willing his heartrate to slow down, godsdammit.

It’s just the bond, he thinks, and a mild case of morning wood.

Nothing to panic about, right?

Except there is. There’s still the exhilaration and the sheer bewilderment he feels at the situation fate’s gotten him stuck in. The realization that after a whole life spent searching, yearning for a soulmate he’s finally found his. And that despite the hostility, despite the insults and quips the Senju keeps throwing his way just to be annoying, Madara foolishly, desperately wants. Wants something he can’t have, because Tobirama isn’t nearly as enamored with the idea of a life partner as Madara would expect… anyone to be, really.

But as he often is, Tobirama is an anomaly.

Not in any negative sense, as Madara has come to find out in the year he’s gotten to know him off the battlefield.

(Although he had been guilty of uttering the occasional insult when the peace talks were just starting, and tensions were high. Back then, Tobirama had been known as nothing more than the Senju demon, the Senju freak among his clanmates—for his ruthless reputation and the terrifying, unheard-of jutsu he created.)

It took Izuna working the one project with Tobirama at the start of the village’s construction. Cooperating with the man made him realize that Tobirama was all right, really, which spurned his ensuing rambling about his new “best friend—I can’t believe he’s not my platonic soulmate, nii-san,” and that made it all the more easy for Madara to stop seeing Tobirama as a lingering threat.

He began to see, instead, that Tobirama stood out not with his freakish experiments but his genius, working around jutsu limitations and making scientific breakthroughs like it was nothing. It was jarring, too, that he seemed to take their village even more seriously than Hashirama did, presenting plan after plan for every sphere ranging from infrastructure to electricity to the educational system, all written up during his teen years, way before peace between their clans was a possibility. He performed unthinkable feats with his water jutsu (and Madara hadn’t even suspected that blood manipulation was in the realm of possibility), was proficient in all five elemental releases and easily the best sensor in Fire Country, and yet still managed to make it all look like no big deal.

Like it was a given.

Madara sighs. The man is an intriguing paradox. One that he’ll have fun trying to solve, he thinks.

A glance back at the bed has him shaking with laughter at the sight of Tobirama hugging a pillow, now that Madara is out of his clutches. One thing Madara would never have guessed about the man is how clingy he is in his sleep. And that he is, apparently, by no means a morning person, despite how organized and scarily efficient he is at every hour of the day. Now he’ll have the striking image of Tobirama cuddling a pillow (and possibly drooling all over it) to juxtapose to that.

His soulmate is a ridiculous man, indeed.

Madara diverts his eyes when Tobirama turns again, dragging the edges of his yukata to open up more of his chest—that’s definitely not a distraction he needs right now.

It’s at that moment that he feels a suddenly much sharper jolt of pain that almost makes him cry out if not for his lungs feeling as if they’re on fire.

Madara tries to stand and promptly falls over to his knees, the pain crippling to the point that his vision starts blacking out.

Ah, shit.

Probably someone overpowering a jutsu nearby, or throwing an unnecessary temper tantrum, or something monstrous passing by the village and assaulting his senses—the increasing pain makes it impossible to focus on trying to figure it out, and Madara shuts his eyes in hopes of drowning out the world around him.

Hopefully, it isn’t an attack, because Madara is as good as dead if he’s forced to defend himself.

He calls for Tobirama but isn’t sure whether any sound actually comes out. He manages to keep himself from falling face-first to the floor, but just barely, supporting himself on shaky hands as icepick blades chip away at his strength and consciousness. There’s loud banging echoing from afar, getting nearer and further away intermittently, and suddenly the whole room is pulsating with energy, the wood beneath Madara’s palms starts burning with hostile energy. Madara manages to curb an impending to a muffled grunt and huddles to the nearest corner, overwhelmed and hurting, desperately willing this to stop.

Gods. What a terrible way to die.

Only he doesn’t, and the throbbing agony subsides the instant he feels all-too-familiar hands on his shoulders, a distant but soothing voice saying Madara’s name over and over again.

Tobirama.

His touch is… safe. Easing the pain almost entirely, enough for Madara to reopen his eyes—and promptly close them again just to block out the sight that greets him.

“Ugh. What the fuck are you doing here?”

The one person Madara had spent the whole of yesterday avoiding, whom he wasn’t ready to face, what with the inevitable overemotional reaction and the very predictable questions—Hashirama is there, kneeling next to his brother and staring at Madara with that annoying puppy-eyed look of his.

“Madara, what’s wrong?”

Predictable question number one.

“Are you injured—you look injured—where does it hurt?”

Two.

“And Tobi, why are your eyes bleeding? Why are your eyes the Sharingan? What the hell is going on?”

Three. Four. Five. Ad infinitum.

Madara responds with a glare.

“Can you get him out of here?” he says, tilting his head to Tobirama, who’s running his hands softly along Madara’s back, his arm, through his hair. It would feel heavenly if not for the eyesore that is Hashirama’s concerned face ruining everything—and his monstrous chakra that still causes him pangs of pain, despite Tobirama’s closeness. “Please?”

“Anija,” Tobirama says, albeit uncertain, “it really isn’t a good time.”

“But Tobi, you’re both wounded!” Hashirama looks torn between moving to heal one or the other, fingers already glowing green. “Madara, where does it hurt? Did you have a fight like I explicitly asked you not to?”

Madara growls, recoiling from the idiot’s hands and banging his head against the wall behind him. It doesn’t even make the migraine worse than it already is.

“Madara isn’t hurt, Anija.” Tobirama reaches to run his hands through Madara’s hair, massaging his scalp softly. Gods, but how quickly that curbs the. Madara isn’t letting Tobirama anywhere out of his hold from now on. “We’re soulmates. We exchanged chakras just yesterday, so we’ll be adapting to the different natures for a while.”

Hashirama gapes.

“Soulmates. You. You two?”

Madara scowls. He himself had much the same reaction but it still irks him to see Hashirama, the ever-sappy fool, as shocked by the news as he was.

“Yes,” Tobirama replies, “Madara seems to be overwhelmed by my sensing range and the unfamiliar chakra is causing him pain. This,” he points to his eyes, tinged red and bleeding around the edges, “is the effect of the Sharingan.”

“Let me.” Hashirama moves to coat Tobirama’s eyes with iryo chakra. “You should have come to me the minute this happened, Tobi. You know the initial side-effects of bonding can be permanent.”

“I’m fine. And this isn’t just the bond’s side-effect,” Tobirama says, pausing for a moment before he goes on, “it’s the Mangekyō, in general. Apparently, it deteriorates eyesight.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Hashirama asks stiffly. “Madara?”

Madara stays silent, ignoring Hashirama’s frown and the way he shoots Madara that look of utter disappointment before returning his focus to the task at hand. He watches Hashirama strain with whatever manipulations he’s attempting, hesitant to admit even to himself the slight hope he feels, that maybe, just maybe, this is the one thing that’s going to work.

Hashirama lowers his hands, a deep frown on his face, as Tobirama clutches at his eyes with a quiet hiss of pain.

“It’s… not working,” Hashirama admits, “I have no idea how but… I-I think I only made it a bit worse, is all.”

“WORSE?” Madara would have hit him, were it not for Tobirama holding him back. “Hashirama, get the fuck out of here before I do something you will regret.”

“I won’t,” Hashirama says, pinning Madara with a glare of his own. “Not until you explain why you didn’t tell me about this before.”

“Because it’s none of your concern,” Madara snaps.

“That’s what you said to me, actually,” Tobirama says, just to be contrary, it seems, “and we’ve talked about that—”

“It’s not the same, Tobirama, and shut up!” Madara shoves him off and away in a fit of foolishness. The pain submerges him once more and he gasps at the force of it—not for long, because Tobirama is back again, arm wrapping around Madara’s shoulders, chakra grounding him, soothing and comforting.

All the things he doesn’t really deserve, does he?

Hashirama looks torn again. Madara takes a deep breath. Hashirama is not to blame for his chakra, and his concern is understandable. There’s no need to be so harsh with him. Madara forces himself to ask nicely.

“We can talk later,” he tells his friend, keeping his voice even, “please. Just not now. Leave and tone down your chakra while you’re at it.”

Hashirama frowns, confused. “But it’s how it always is when I’m not actively using it.”

“He’s right,” Tobirama says, throwing Madara an apologetic look. “It’s all over the place, all the time.”

“Oh, great.”

“That’s not what we’re talking about, though,” Hashirama insists, with all his Senju stubbornness that Madara is really getting tired of as of late. “How long have you known about what the Mangekyō does, Madara?”

“Since I was born,” Madara says, “I’m not the only one with it, obviously.”

“Then why the hell did you use it so much during the war? You should have told me—”

“You just said, the war, treehead. Our clans were at war. What the fuck was I supposed to do?”

“Not use it? I wouldn’t have gone as hard as I did. You’re my friend, you know that!” Hashirama is, of course, oblivious to the implicit insult in that statement. “Or, I don’t know, you could’ve accepted the peace earlier?”

“Can you forget for one second about your godsdamned peace?” Madara says upon an exasperated sigh. “Just this once?”

“Not really, when an earlier stop to the war could have prevented your eyes getting this bad!” Hashirama waves his hands to the Mangekyō still burning bright behind Tobirama’s half-closed eyelids. The man looks just about ready to strangle them both. “This—this bleeding and the dead and unhealable cells!”

“Senju—" The vase and the glass of water on his desk fracture as Madara senses, viscerally, how the water in the pond outside, in every piece of plant life starts churning in response to his anger.

“Anija, please,” Tobirama implores, placing a hand on Hashirama’s shoulder, “just let this be for now. I’m working—we’re working on a way to fix this.”

“Glad to hear that, Tobi, awesome, amazing,” Hashirama says in a tone that does little to match the words, standing up to pace in front of them, riling up his chakra even more because apparently, he’s an utter idiot. “I just don’t understand why you couldn’t have just come to me earlier, Madara, and—oh, I don’t know, prevented the countless deaths in the war? Kept not just yourself, but your clanmates from going blind? Discovered your soulbond sooner, for gods’ sakes?”

For a while, Madara is at a loss of what to say. It’s too familiar an accusation. Such a familiar pain—the reminder that no matter what Madara does, it’s always wrong, or mediocre, or lead to disaster. Somehow, coming from Hashirama this way, it’s so much harsher than when Tobirama blamed him for the same inaction.

Neither brother knows that Madara issued a decree forbidding everyone without an Eternal Mangekyō from using it the second he became Clan Head. That little to nobody listened to him, unwilling to let him bear the brunt of the burden in the war. That he couldn’t even begin to understand where to look for answers to keep his people from being blinded by this curse, the elders too stuck up their ideals to try something that might possibly upset the gods—and too loyal to his father’s ideals to even consider the prospect of peace until the volatile ultimatum Madara had faced them with.

(A failure, so many voices call from his memories, you always will be.)

“There were reasons I couldn’t, dumbass,” Madara says, tone biting, holding back the chakra that yearns to lash out at his friend. “And oh, what a delightful fucking experience. A soulbond so painful it makes want to kill myself.”

It’s an unnecessary, spiteful remark he utters only because he’s peeved that Hashirama, of all people, would know how much a soulbond means to he, knows where to strike the hardest.

Madara feels Tobirama flinch just after he realizes what he’s said.

“Wait—I didn’t…” It’s too late, as always, to hold back his thoughtless, stupid words. Tobirama is still there with him, still holding on to him, albeit with a face that’s back to its neutral, unfeeling expression. “I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t appreciate you upsetting my brother, Madara.”

And now Hashirama is truly angry at him. Even better.

Madara glares at him, facing Hashirama’s dark eyes glowing with a light-green hue, his chakra permeating every piece of wood on the room, clashing against Madara’s senses.

“We’ll talk when you’ve calmed down then,” Hashirama says in what Madara’s dubbed his ‘Hokage voice, “And I expect a more coherent explanation. Tobirama?”

The man in question lifts his head. Madara half-expects Hashirama to bark out a command at him, but the words he utters next are soft, almost hesitant, “Will you come with me?”

Madara turns his head away, feeling his eyes prickle with treacherous, unshed tears. Of course, he’s ruined everything once more. With words said in anger, without thought or reason—something Izuna incessantly warned would get Madara into trouble again and again, but Madara never listens.

And now his soulmate is leaving, the sliver of progress they’ve made towards some kind of relationship squandered by Madara’s stupidity.

Then again, another thing Izuna keeps telling him is to own up to his mistakes. So Madara does, forcing himself to look back at Tobirama, hoping to the gods his expression doesn’t reveal how utterly dejected he feels.

Tobirama contemplates him for a few torturous moments, face impassive, then turns back to face his brother. “I’m sorry, Anija. But I’m going to have to stay.” Its evident, the strain in his voice, the way it pains him to say it, but his chakra feels determined, steadfast, almost protective as it winds further around Madara’s own. “I’ll find you the minute I get to the Tower, I promise.”

Tobirama is looking at the floor, face marred by a frown. “We’ll meet today as we decided. After work. You know the training ground.” He gives Madara’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll try to have that seal ready for you.”

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#choose your own adventure #madatobi #soulmate au #lou writes

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illwork4anime · 4 years

Text

Original Ch1 for Done with Love

@rebuildingkonohaonceagain requested this deleted chapter of done with love - so here it is! Read if you’d like!

Summary: Sakura saves a patient important to Shikamaru, then She and Shikamaru discuss how to get Sasuke back on her own.

I like this take, because it makes fun of Kishi’s Sakura a bit through Shika’s perspective and shows how I’d make her actually a good character instead of a love obsessed bimbo - hence the title “Done with Love’

Chapter 1 – Not Mine

Present Day

Sakura

REDACTED FIRST SCENE BUT SHE IS CAPTURED

10 months, 10 days ago

5:30 PM

Sakura

At some level, I've always felt my life was not mine.

As a child, my life had been lived for my parents, who loved me so fiercely. I'd been a miracle, they said. My mother never said so, but she had always loved kids and wanted several of her own. She'd babysit her friends' children and look at baby clothes just for fun. She volunteered at the children's wing of the hospital too. Only later would I learn my mother was afflicted with a disease rendering her infertile according to the doctors. I was a statistical anomaly and my mother's baby themed extra-curriculars were trying to fill a void that even I couldn't.

As a slightly older child, I'd lived for the sisterhood of Ino. She stood up to bullies for me and told me I was pretty. She was everything I needed and wasn't. Brave, caring, and so effervescent. If anyone truly lived for themselves, it was Ino, and I so desperately wanted to be like her.

Then, in the golden years of the academy, I met Sasuke and unwittingly gave my life to 'love'. More accurately to an unhealthy infatuation with Sasuke. What girl my age hadn't? All it cost was my relationship with my best friend, Ino, and any chance I had to be taken seriously as a ninja. Looking back, what a rip off. Girls do the stupidest things in the name of love. Hear a rumor Sasuke likes long hair? Grow your hair long even though it makes taijutsu practice a nightmare. Hear Sasuke likes delicate hands? Well, better do half hour-long skin treatments in the evening and skip out on kunai target practice whenever possible.

It wasn't until the Chunnin exams that I really realized how much I'd screwed myself. Even then, I'd doubled down on 'loving' Sasuke. When he left us, I clung to my love for him and let it motivate my life. I'd get stronger and work with a legendary Sannin myself and someday, I'd bring him home. He'd see how devoted I was throughout it all and he'd respect me for that until eventually that grew into love. We'd start a family and be together forever.

So misguided, right?

As I sit here in my office at the hospital, trying to fill out my charts from my shift, I can't help but chuckle at my own naivety. That was a dream.

And I am finally awake.

I dip my hand in to my lab coat, tracing the note there. The one I found when I 'woke up'. When I broke into Sasuke's childhood home, mourned him, and left him there with the rest of those broken dreams.

I was done with love. I was done with it running my life and I was ready to live for what I wanted. And what I wanted was my family back – my team 7 home. That meant Naruto no longer reckless and desperate for Sasuke, and for his only to focus to be on becoming Hokage. For Kakashi, to stop sulking around the village, hung up on another failure of a student.

I want to stop Sasuke from hurting my precious people. Mine not his.

But first, I want to go home, eat some takeout, and have a bubble bath because it's been a long day. Only 3 charts stand in my way.

When I finish them, I stretch my hands over my head, trying to straighten the hunch in my back from slaving over paperwork. Gathering the files, I make my way to the hallway.

"Thanks for your help today, Kanna," I hear the new girl, Ami, say to the plump, middle age nurse as they make their way toward me.

"Of course, dear. We'll done." She says with a motherly smile. Kanna notices me and gives a wave. "Ah, Sakura. Headed out for the day?"

I nod. "Sure am. I've got a hot date with some fried rice." I say smiling.

Ami looks disappointed, "Careful now. If you keep dating fried food, you'll end up like me some day." She gestures to her round figure and the comment makes me feel uncomfortable.

"If I end up being half the woman you are, I'd be quite happy with that," I say encouragingly.

"That's very flattering, dear," Kanna replies looking not the least bit flattered. "But take it from me, men taste much better than fried food. Fewer calories too."

Kanna's following wink has Ami and me turning scarlet.

"I – uh," I stutter not quite knowing what to say to that. "I'm not sure I have time for a relationship right now."

"Come now," she dismisses my excuse, "There's more to life than working at the hospital. Plus, it doesn't have to be anything serious! Women have certain needs too, you know."

Ami looks ready to faint. I decide to not so subtly change the subject.

"So, Ami, good first day then?" I say sweetly. Ami nods, smile coming back to her face.

"Yes, its been wonderful. Thank you for asking. Everyone has been really kind and helpful." She said gratefully, "Plus, it's been such a slow day-,"

"No, Ami!" Kanna interjects, "Look what you've done. You've jinxed us all!"

Ami looks surprised again and looks between me and Kanna looking for a clue to what she said wrong.

"Jinxed us?" She squeaks.

"If you learn nothing else today, remember this: never ever say 'its been a slow day'. That's how you get slammed with new intakes and stuck here until 2 am." Kanna scolds back.

"Oh, you don't really believe that, right?" Ami tries to laugh off the mistake. She throws a pleading look to me, like I'll be more reasonable. "That's just an old wives' tale."

I just shrug and say, "I'm sorry, but she's right. Its been scientifically proven. I even had my intern last year do a study and the findings were actually-,"

I was cut off by the slam of doors flying open at the end of the hall. Three nurses pushed a stretcher toward us, voices breaking the quiet.

"Here, take these to the record room," I say shoving my charts into Ami's arms. She looks shocked white. "Kanna, you're with me."

"Yes, ma'am." She says, shooting a mild glare at Ami before following me to commotion.

As I arrive, recognize that woman on the stretcher immediately and suppress the emotional response that spikes up. It's Kurenai-sensei.

I note one nurse is holding hemostatic gauze to her chest while another tries to attach a blood-pressure cuff. The third is driving the stretcher, reporting her heartrate states from the EKG. I turn to him and say, "What are we dealing with here?"

"Haruno-san," He looks relieved, "Puncture wound to the chest, possible internal bleeding in the abdomen. Heart rate is dropping, but doesn't appear to be damaged from the puncture wound."

"Poison?" I ask.

"No, it was a training exercise." He answers. Good, that makes things easier.

"Head to surgical room 5. Kanna, take the puncture wound. Stop the bleeding," I announce and turn to the nurse struggling with the BP cuff, "Get me those BP stats, ASAP."

I don't wait for her confirmation and order administration of an anti-coagulant before pressing a charka gloved hand onto Kurenai's abdomen. It's not good.

There's massive internal hemorrhaging crushing her insides. It thrums with each pump of her heart. Something else as is thrumming as well. A flutter like a hummingbird's wings smothered underneath the blanket of blood.

"Stop the coagulant!" I cry, eyes flying open, "She's pregnant."

Sakura

10:30 pm

While it's not quite 2 am when we finish, the surgery takes me well past the end of my shift. We got Kurenai-sensei stabilized with no harm to her child, but it wasn't easy. I'm dead on my feet, as is the rest of my staff.

I address Kanna as we disrobe out of our PPE, "Let's keep her 3 days for observation. I want to make sure the baby is alright. She appears stable now, but sometimes there's delayed trauma that can terminate."

Kanna nods, "I'll tell the attending right away."

I smile weakly, "Thanks Kanna."

"Now go home! You're late for your date." She says winking. I laugh.

"See, isn't it lucky I don't have some poor guy waiting on me? This is why I don't date." I joke.

This time her smile is full of pity and I regret making the joke at all.

"Haruno-san?" An aid named Daichi calls into the surgical room, head swiveling until he finds me by the sinks. I wave him over.

"There's a young man pacing in the waiting room. Shikamaru Nara, I think. He came in with the patient." He says. Its customary for the attending physician to give an update once patents have stabilized, but as he looks me up and down taking in the exhausted expression on my face and my hunched shoulders, he asks, "Should I send a nurse for an update?"

If she hadn't know Shikamaru personally, she would have readily agreed, but this kind of news was better coming from a friend.

"Not necessary, Daichi," I answer, "Shikamaru's a friend. I'll see to him as soon as I'm finished here."

He nods and leaves.

Kanna elbows me in the side, "Looks like you might have a date after all."

I roll my eyes at her yell, "Go home, Kanna!" over my shoulder as I leave to the waiting room.

When I arrive, Shikamaru is easy to spot. As Daichi said, he's pacing back and forth I the rear of the waiting room, his spiky ponytail bobbing with each turn. I don't think I've ever seen him so worked up.

I call to him as I approach, and it startles him out of his state of worry.

"Sakura!" he says, "Is Kurenai alright? Tell me everything's alright."

I give him my best reassuring smile and say, "Yes, she's stable Shikamaru. It was a tough surgery, but she's a fighter."

People love to hear that their loved ones are 'fighters' I've noticed. It gives them some feeling of control over something that is so often uncontrollable. Shikamaru was no different as he relaxed slightly.

"And the baby?" He asks. This surprises me. How did Shikamaru know this before I did? I may socially live under a rock here at the hospital, but if news like that was public knowledge, then Ino would have called me right away to gossip. Then I remembered Kurenai's chart. The emergency contact listed as Asuma Sarutobi, crossed out with Shikamaru's name and number listed below. Asuma had entrusted Kurenai and her child with Shikamaru, it seemed.

"The baby is also stable," I say and his shoulders finally go slack as he collapses into one of the plastic chairs lining the walls. I slide into the one next to him and continue, "We need to keep her here under observation for a few days. Sometimes there is a delayed response to acute trauma and the child's condition turns for the worse. We're closely monitoring her and the baby to make sure this doesn't happen."

Shikamaru nods, and it seems he's only half listening to my words.

"Can I see her?" He asks, but I shake my head.

"No visitors until morning. I'm sorry, but she needs to rest right now." I say. He just drops his head in his hands and takes a deep breath.

"I really screwed up, Sakura." He whispers. I place a hand on his arm.

"Don't beat yourself up. Everything's fine. Kurenai's fine." I try to reassure him.

He looks up at me, eyes holding a strange reverence I've never seen from him.

"I owe you one, Sakura." He says. Now that she had heard before. She almost says 'its nothing', but it isn't nothing.

"I'll send you this bill later, then, okay?" I say with another soft smile.

"I'm serious," He says, upset by my joking tone. "A life debt. I owe you a life debt."

Coming from someone like Shikamaru, I know he's serious, but that weight behind his words and the look on his face have me shifting uncomfortably in my seat. This is just my job, and I don't keep tallies for wins, loses or debts. The scales never quite even out when I do.

"How about we just start with a drink?" I say lightly. "I think we both could use one."

Shikamaru

10:45 PM

I've never really enjoyed the company of Sakura Haruno. She'd always been lumped into the under-achieving, Sasuke loving fan club that was too much of a headache to pay attention to. Instead, he was force fed all his updates about her from Ino. There was constantly something to be up in arms about but never anything of real importance. Mostly he equated her presents to a fruit fly buzzing around in his periphery. Annoying, but easy to ignore.

He remembered the first time he was impressed with a Sakura related update. After Sasuke left, she had landed an apprentice with the legendary Tsunade herself. Other than that, he hadn't really given her a second thought.

But when he heard her call his name in the waiting room, all the little bits of information jealously relayed through Ino added up to one single emotion – relief. Sakura had made something of herself and Shikamaru didn't know what he would have done had she not been there.

As they entered a late-night food stall with excellent Takoyaki and Sake, he was once again reminded of how little he really knew about Sakura. The old Sakura would have chattered away, filling any silence she could with inconsequential self-centered information which would eventually lead back to Sasuke. But this Sakura wasn't like that at all.

She had been mostly quiet during the walk over, beginning with some additional facts about Kurenai's condition which he only half understood. Then sensing his disengagement with the subject, she asked if he a favorite food stands he like to visit.

Which led them here.

The sake comes first, and I drain one saucer, then two. It steadies my nerves just as he hoped. I feel her eyes on me, but Sakura doesn't comment. Instead, I see her lift her saucer in a 'cheers' motion before draining it as I had. She smiles until her stomach grumbles loudly and she her face goes red.

"Sorry – I haven't eaten since lunch!" She explains. "My shift was supposed to be over at 6:00 and I was going to grab dinner but then, um, you know." I nod sparing her.

"You forget Chouji's my best friend. I'm used to hearing that sounds every hour on the hour."

"I'm not sure being compared to Chouji really makes me feel any better." She says carefully, with a laugh.

"Well, I'd compare you to Ino, but I'd probably get punched for it later." I say and she laughs again.

Our Takoyaki comes, just as I feel myself loosening up a little. It feels like I'm talking to a stranger and I've never been good at small talk. It doesn't seem to matter though, because Sakura is fully fixated on the food in front of her, popping the first Takoyaki in her mouth with a groan.

"This is either the best Takoyaki in the village, or I'm way more famished than I thought" She says.

"Hunger is the best seasoning," I say lamely. She doesn't make fun of me like I expect though.

"Is that another Chouji thing?" She asks, "He might be far wiser than we ever believed."

I chuckle a bit at that. She's kind of funny, and the light-heartedness is exactly what I need right now.

"Please never tell him that. I would totally go to his head and I don't need any more self-confidence on my team." I say.

"Right, I think Ino has enough for all three of you," She says, understanding my reference right away.

I grunt in agreement and take a bite.

She waits until she halfway through her plate before saying, "So, what have you been up to? I haven't seen you in forever."

"Mostly doing paperwork for the Hokage. It appears I'm her lap dog now." I say more sarcastically than bitter. It occurs to me that being the Hokage's apprentice, that's probably something Sakura already knew. Just like she also knows I'm off field work for the next month for bereavement after Asuma's passing.

"I know how that feels," Sakura commiserates. "What does she have you working on?"

This Sakura must also already know but I answer anyway, "Mostly doing analysis on upcoming Chunin. I go over their strengths and weakness, then make recommendations on training routines to help round them out. I also suggest team assignments for mission requests, but I think this is mostly an exercise in mentoring the younger generation."

She makes a thoughtful sound then says, "That doesn't sound like something you'd be very into."

I raise an eyebrow at her and she adds, "Not saying you wouldn't be great at it! Just seems like you wouldn't be into mentoring is all."

I ponder this for a moment and realize Sakura is probably dealing with the same challenges I am, trying to reconcile the lazy, reclusive boy with the person Shikamaru is now.

"I actually like it better than I thought I would." I explain, "Asuma-sensei actually taught me that the next generation is what's worth protecting and shaping them is our duty as Jonin."

"Well, I think he'd be proud of what you're doing her Shikamaru." She says encouragingly. I fiddle with the empty cup in my hand and blanch at the sappiness of it. Somethings haven't changed, I guess.

"What about you?" I change the subject, "how is the hospital?"

I expect her to smile and gush about how great it is working for the Hokage and saving lives, but she doesn't.

"Its…Its good." She finally says. "Its rewarding, but I miss field work and going out with a team, you know? Its just a little lonely training by myself."

"That's right, Naruto's back out with Jiraiya." I suddenly feel a little like an ass for talking so much about my team.

"Yeah, but don't get me wrong, I'm really happy for him." She says, "Its such a great opportunity and he needs to do it."

I nod.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is I wish I got out of the hospital more. I get a lot of flak from the older nurses for not having a social life or a boyfriend." She rambles a little bit, showing some signs of discomfort at having to explain herself.

I have no interest in talking about her dating life so I say, "Do you feel like you've peeked at the hospital then?"

"Exactly!" She looks relieved, "I feel like there's nothing more to learn there, but I'm stuck. I just want to move on to the next chapter like Naruto and…" Sasuke. She doesn't say it but I know that's what she's thinking.

"And I just need to, like, move on," She finishes instead.

I just nodded and take another drink. Its not clear if she's talking about moving on from the hospital or Sasuke at this point. Either way, I'm not good with advice, so I don't say anything. There's a few moments of silence before Sakura turns to me again with a look of excitement that has me instantly on guard. It's the same look Ino has before she forces him to do something reckless and utterly troublesome.

"Do me," Sakura says, her eyes lighting up. I sit up, a blush spreading across my cheeks.

"I'm – um, what?" I stammer.

"Do me," Sakura says with more conviction, "So I can get unstuck and move on."

I tug at my collar a bit, my throat feeling a little tight, "Look I'm sorry if I've sent you some mixed signals here, but I'm not interested in a hook-up and I don't think that's a healthy way for you to 'move on'."

This time Sakura stiffens with a blush.

"What?" she exclaims, and I can see the wheels turning in her mind, going over what she's said again, "No. No, no, no." She said waving her hands in front of her as if clearing the air of an unpleasant smell.

"I meant, analyze me. Like you do for the chunin you mentor." She clarifies, unable to look me in the eye.

"Oh - well, sure." I said quickly, turning into my drink to avoid eye contact as well. Normally I'd be annoyed at a request like this, but anything to change the subject from a drunken hook-up with Sakura Haruno.

"What are your goals?" I ask quickly. She takes a beat to catch up with the misdirection, then responds.

"To bring Sasuke back home," She answers. She doesn't ponder, but that doesn't surprise me. Though a lot has changed, I understand that this fundamental part of who Sakura is probably never will. I imagine that phrase constantly running in the back of her mind until it fades into the subconscious like the sound of your own heartbeat.

"What a surprise," I drawl sarcastically. Her eyes narrow as I've obviously hit a nerve, but she waits for me to continue. "And how do you plan to achieve that goal?"

Her certainty stutters. "Well, I have to get stronger. Strong enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with Naruto and Sasuke. Then we can bring him home together and be a team again."

I want to bang my head against the table at how unrealistic this idea was. This was going to be harder than I thought. Still better than talking about her dating life, I remind myself. Also, somehow this is much better than the niceties and small talk from before.

"Okay, but how will you bring him home?" I reiterate.

"I just told you," She says annoyed.

"No, what you told me is an intention or an idea. I want details. What are your steps to achieving that idea? What's your plan?" I continue.

She sits there for a few seconds, waffling. "Um, I-I'm not sure."

I raise an eyebrow, "I find that hard to believe. You've been obsessing about this for over 2 years."

"I haven't been obsessing, okay? I've been training. That's my plan. I'm getting stronger, so I don't get left behind anymore by them" She replies.

"That's a good first step." I conceded, trying to placate her a little. Last thing I need is her getting too worked up, punching me in the gut and storming off leaving me with the bill. I try a different approach, "When you imaging bringing Sasuke home, what does it look like? What happens?"

Her cheeks turn pink again, and she starts with what I assume is a heavily edited daydream.

"Well, usually there are two scenarios. In one, Sasuke comes home on his own, having escaped Orochimaru after realizing that snake only wanted him as a vessel and that the only real way to defeat Itachi is with me by his side." Her eyes were focused in the distance, far away from reality. "And Naruto! I mean. Not, um, just me by his side. With Team 7 by his side." She corrects.

I struggle to keep from rolling my eyes. I was totally right about the daydream.

"The second, Naruto and I find Sasuke in the sound village. We try to convince him to come home, but he doesn't listen, and we fight. With two against one, we eventually ware him down, and offer him another chance to come home. He realizes he was wrong about cutting his bonds and accepts. Or we just kick his ass and drag him back." She finishes with a self-satisfied smile.

What a fairytale, rose-colored, underdeveloped plan. A fantasy and nothing more. I am in over my head. Telling her as much would certainly land him with a broken bone or two, so he redirected her.

"Okay, let's focus on the second scenario. I think we can both agree that this is the more likely of the two." I start. She looks like she does not agree, but I continues anyway, "There are two things to consider further. How do you get to the start of this encounter and what happens after. Let's start with the start. In this scenario, how do you get to find Sasuke in the sound village?"

"On a retrieval mission from Tsunade-Sama," She answers. Of course, she would pick the most by the book option.

"And who normally goes on retrieval missions for missing-nin?" I ask, not missing a beat.

"Well, that depends on the missing-nin and what skillset is needed" She says stubbornly, but she knows what I'm getting at.

"What rank, Sakura?" I say, not giving her an out this time.

"ANBU black ops. Hunter-nin." She answers, but quickly adds, "But this is different. Tsunade would make an exception. Naruto has the nine-tails and she trained me herself, so-,"

"Even if she wanted to," I cut in, "She couldn't make that exception. The council wouldn't let her."

Sakura doesn't answer, but she frowns telling me she knows this is true.

"If you wanted to get the mission legally, you'd have to be accepted into ANBU and then petition Tsunade to grant you the mission." I explain.

Sakura's mind snagged on one word, "Legally?"

I nod. "That's the only legal way for you to get assigned such a mission. The other option is to defect, become a missing-nin yourself."

"No," She refuses, "that's out of the question." I nod again, unsurprised by her stubborn rejection.

"Then you're looking at one to two years to build up mission requirements to enter the Jonin exams. You have to pass on the first go, a 50% probability given passing rates of the exam. Then, a minimum of 3 years to get noticed for recommendation to ANBU. For those not from a clan and with no kekkei genkai, it's more likely double that. Total, it'd be at least 7 years before you could go after him with the village's approval." I finish.

"I can't wait that long!" She exclaims, "We only have a year left before Orochimaru takes Sasuke as his vessel. It has to be before then."

I raise my hands in a gesture of surrender, "Don't shoot the messenger. I'm just stating the facts here."

"I know," She is quiet a long moment. "I know."

I finish off my drink, pouring another sake for myself and topping off Sakura's. Her plate is finished, and she's fiddling with her chop sticks. I can see she's struggling with what I've laid out. I get it. She didn't want to defect and turn her back on her home, family and friends. Sasuke had nothing to lose when he left Konoha behind, but Sakura had everything.

"I'm not afraid to work for it, but," She trailed off, killing her full glass before continuing. "I want nothing more than to help Naruto bring him back, but I can't throw everything away. I want to be strong enough to put everything I have on the line for the people I love, but I can't. I can't go down the same path as Sasuke without somehow becoming him, or at least letting him control my life again, you know?"

I don't fully get that but nod anyway. I can tell she is feeling the sake now, because her words are more rapid and smear together a little.

I take another long drink from my glass before laying out the plan that I find most optimal.

"There is one more way," I say, not looking at her. "It's still difficult and with the one year time limit, you might be cutting it close. Its not exactly legal either, but if you pulled it off, you wouldn't be labeled a missing-nin."

I glanced at her from the corner of my eye to find her hanging on my every word.

"As you are now, a chunin, it's extremely rare to go on solo missions. Even if you do get one, its only for a day or two and very close to the boarder. For Jonin, however, its not uncommon to have a month-long solo mission in remote countries like Wave or Sound. I'd say about 30% of current A-rank missions meet these criteria." I state.

She nods, "So, what's your point?"

"If you were to make Jonin, and get assigned to one of these, it would be possible to take a," I search for the appropriate word, "- detour to find him. Given the timeframe and location of the mission, that would be easy to cover up by reporting a slightly different version of the events. Say Sasuke ran into you and you had to engage him. At that point, it's required to attempt to bring him back as long as it doesn't jeopardize the primary mission. The only person who would refute you would be Sasuke, but I doubt they'd put much stock into what he has to say." I say.

"Shikamaru, that's brilliant!" Sakura gushed. "I'd be able to bring him back without leaving the village."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. It's not that easy," I try to temper her joy. "There's still a lot of unknowns and things that could go wrong to get there."

Sakura isn't deterred, "As long as I work my hardest, I can get there. Or at least I'll know I did everything I could."

I let out a laugh, "Haven't you heard the phrase 'work smarter not harder'?"

"Yes, and I get the feeling that's your nindou, Shikamaru." She teased.

"Something like that." I mutter, feinting slightly that I'm put out.

"I'll need your help then, Shikamaru." She says with sudden soberness. "If I'm going to pull this off, I need you to help me strategize. To see the obstacles in my way and help me think of ways around them."

"Absolutely not," I say, without hesitation, "This is a fun little exercise, but that's all. You aren't seriously considering it?" I say, but the sinking feeling in my stomach tells me I know full well she is taking every word I've said tonight at face value.

"I am, and I'm not drunk enough to be convinced otherwise." She says, "But you seem to be forgetting something. You owe me a favor." Her grin is positively Cheshire.

"This is a little much –," I protest.

"You said a life debt. This is well within that definition. You are helping me save Sasuke's life." She counters.

"And you are also forgetting something," I remind her, more force behind my words this time. "We've only gone over half the story. These are the events leading up to you confronting Sasuke. What are you going to do afterward? I don't see a lot of positive outcomes here, Sakura."

"Then explain it to me." She says, not backing down.

I sign a longsuffering sigh, knowing I'm going to regret this later. More than I already do.

"Sasuke isn't going to come back to the village by force. Even if you, how did you put it, 'kick his ass and drag him back', as soon as he is well enough, he will leave again. Even if he didn't, you wouldn't be a team again because he will most likely be imprisoned for some time, then on a probationary period as a genin. Probably capped at chunin rank for life."

Sakura carefully considers my words. "You're right."

That surprises me, probably the first time she's agreed with me all night.

Sakura continues, "Unless he comes willingly, there's no point in forcing him back, but I don't care about the probation. Naruto is willing to wait as long as it takes to be a team again. Even if we don't go on missions anymore, we can still be a team. We can still be together."

My initial reaction is to groan. Just sappy. Totally sappy. But, I give it a moment to sink in and think about my own team. They are a family and if I was in Sakura's shoes, I'd probably feel the same.

"Fair enough," I grunt. "What a drag. Persuading him to come back would be ten times harder than using force. It might even be impossible."

"Come on, Shika. Nothing's impossible with your mind on the case." She said a little too sweetly.

"Shika?" I wince, "If you're trying to butter me up, that's not going to work. You were better off your original approach– emotional blackmail."

Even with the duplicitous tone, her smile is genuine. It stops my heart for just a beat. Her cheeks are still rosy from the drink, hair tied back in a messy knot that leaves carefree strands swinging around her face, and her jade eyes sparkle.

I can't remember the last time I'd seen such a look on her, or anyone's face for that matter, directed at me. I'd seen her smile though tears often enough, and though I'd never say it to her face, she is an ugly crier. There was the exhausted but satisfied smile as she left the hospital. Also, a sterile, polite smile she gives to acquaintances or strangers as they passed in the Hokage's office. Even the comforting, professional smile of a doctor reassuringly delivering Kurenai's progress report. Never this.

This is lightning across her face - lighting up with unadulterated excitement and crackling with conspiratorial comradery that bordered on flirtation. Was it her one hundred percent focus on me, the way she was hanging on my every word, or the proximity in the tiny food stand that has me feeling drawn in by her? I strangely want to lean closer and –

"Better than slapping you across the head until you help me!" She says in an innocent, sing song voice. (AN: GOD I HATE THAT LINE. OH WELL)

And there it goes.

"God damn it, Sakura! Don't even joke about that," I say, pulling away from her as much as the seat will allow. She just laughs and waves off the joke.

"One way or another, I know you love to strategize, Shikamaru." She says, mercifully using my full name. "This might be enough of a challenge to catch your interest even without blackmail."

"Don't count on it. You forget how lazy I am, and this sounds like too much work to be bothered." I say brushing her off.

"Humor me here. How would you do it? How would you convince him to come back?" She says, tone coming back to serious again.

I think quietly for a minute. Then another.

"Don't fall asleep on me," She says, impatient.

"I'm thinking, woman," I snap.

"Then think out loud." She replies. I mutter 'troublesome women' under my breathe but comply with her request.

"From Sasuke's perspective, he left for revenge on Itachi, or rather strength to carry out the revenge. He won't want to come home until this is complete. He's made it clear several times that he's discarded his bonds and even Naruto couldn't convince him otherwise. So, any offers to help him will be disregarded."

"Well, obviously," Sakura says with a little too much force. I ignore her tone.

"The easiest course would be to wait until he's completed his revenge and confront him then." I conclude.

"We can't wait that long," Sakura counters, "Naruto will want him home before Orochimaru tries to use him as a vessel."

"Honestly, if I were Sasuke, I'd be planning to kill Orochimaru the second I surpass him, well before Orochimaru tries anything." I say candidly.

"Yes," Sakura gasps, "He wouldn't just turn over. He'd fight."

"Exactly. Sasuke's smart and wouldn't trust Orochimaru to kill Itachi after the body transfer is complete." I add on. "Let's assume this is the case."

"We can't," She interjects, "I want to believe Sasuke could kill Orochimaru, but what if he fails. Naruto would want to be there to help him."

"I don't think that's wise. You'll just be two more people Sasuke is trying to fight." I respond.

Sakura lets out a frustrated huff, "Then why don't we just kill Itachi ourselves?"

Even though I'm sure she said it sarcastically, I dismiss the idea. "I don't think that's an option either. Too big a risk he'd just hate you guys forever and never return home. Even if we framed it on someone else, he would just have a new target."

"What are you trying to say then? That waiting is the only option and I should just give up?" She raises her voice a little too loud and the stall owner shoots a glance our way. I give him a smile back that says 'everything's fine here' and he turns away again.

I lean forward and say quietly, "Yes, that's exactly what I said in the beginning, but you wouldn't accept that."

When this doesn't change her expression, he continues, "There is one more thing I can think of, but you'll never go for it and neither would I."

I wait for her to say something and after a moment she prompts, "Well? Let's hear it!"

"We could offer Naruto as bait if he leaves. You could help lure Itachi to Sasuke since we know Akatsuki is after the nine-tails," I'm practically whispering. This is not something I should even be saying out loud.

"No," she whispers sharply, understanding the gravity of the idea. "How could you even think that?"

"I warned you that you wouldn't like it," I grumble, "I'm just trying to show you how few options you have here, and that the ones left aren't favorable. You will have to get your hands dirty here Sakura. One way or another."

She hisses out a breath, "I know. But I won't give up until I find a way to do this as clean as possible. I won't throw away my future for Sasuke anymore. I don't want to betray the village or Naruto for this."

"I know," I say with a sympathetic look. "I get it, I really do. But until we get more information or think of a way to convince Sasuke to give up his revenge, there's no way forward."

"More information…to convince him," Sakura mumbles, and dips a hand in the pocket of her coat. The pulls a piece of folded paper out, but doesn't open it. She mumbles something under her breath he can't quite catch.

"What was that?" I ask.

"I can do it." Sakura says with resolve. She grabs the paper and gestures with it, "I can get more information to convince him to give it up. I think I have a lead. I just need time,"

"Sakura, as you've said multiple times this evening, we don't have time here." I say sarcastically. That and I'm quite certain there is no new information out there to convince the only man more bull headed than Naruto to abandon his lifelong mission of revenge.

"Okay, fine. Here's the deal," She says, squaring up with me on her stool, "You be my mentor and help me strategize to get into the next Jonin exams. We agreed this was the first step regardless of what we plan to do after the confrontation with Sasuke. While I train, I'll keep looking for more information, for something big enough to convince him to stay. Once I have it, I'll do as you said and slip away during a long solo mission nearby the Sound Village. With whatever 'emotional blackmail' I uncover, I confront him and do my best to convince him to come home." She explains.

It was a terrible, awful plan. There were way to many what-ifs to be reliable. I pick one hole and probe.

"And if you don't find more information to convince him?" I ask, with no confidence that something like that exists.

"Then you win, and we wait Sasuke out. We monitor what he's up to and intercept him after he's finished with Itachi if he doesn't come back on his own." She reasoned. "No harm done if I get a promotion out of it anyway. And it will make it easier to track his movements, should it come to that." She tacks on at the end.

There is a tense moment as I mull over her words. Not like I really had a choice, here. I did owe this woman a life debt.

"Alright, deal." I grumble finally, "Damned if I do, damned if I don't."

Sakura lets out a relieved, heady laugh, and throws her arms around me with so much force, I'm almost knocked off my bar stool.

"Thank you!" She breaths out, pulling back. My cheeks grow warm, surprised by her outburst and the sudden physical contact. "Let's get me promoted!"

"They won't know what hit them," I say sarcastically, trying to make my reluctance known. Then, she's giving me that lightning grin again and I can't help but recognize those words I spoke are true, because I certainly didn't know what hit me either.

#DWL #Deleted chapter #done with love #beginning sucks so just skip to the Shikamaru POV

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alphawave-writes · 5 years

Text

It’s lonely at the top--Sigma x Dr. Harold Winston

Synopsis: Sigma explores his past as he remembers the love that blossoms between him and Dr Harold Winston, the one man in the universe that understands him, and shares in his loneliness.

Read it here, or on AO3. Read my other Sigma fanfic series, ‘the Universe sings’, here

Siebren didn’t recall the first time he met Harold Winston, but he certainly remembered the second time. They apparently met once back on earth, when Siebren was petitioning for funding by the other scientific companies. Harold was in the background during the video call when Siebren was campaigning to join Lucheng Interstellar’s then-brand new mission, but he never spoke. In a sense, their real first meeting was later, up on the surface of the moon. He remembered when the spaceship propelled him out of the atmosphere and into the inky depths of space, him and a few Lucheng Interstellar astronauts buckled up in the typical astronaut gear. The others were only there to monitor the progress of the space station. None of them had the twinkle of wonder in their eyes. None of them looked upon the stars in utter amazement like Siebren did. They didn’t think of this trip as a step forward to understanding the world. It wasn’t too surprising that he did not make friends with them.

As he first stepped foot on Horizon Lunar Colony, went through the standard decompression procedure that he’d been taught and retaught thousands of times, he was ashamed to admit that his thoughts were not on his research or the stars beyond but on the academic worth of his new peers. It was a condition of his contract that he collaborated with the other researchers on a paper. He had never met the staff of Horizon before today. Time will tell whether his months here will be fruitful or pointless.

At the entrance to the main section of the colony stood a single man. He’s roughly Siebren’s age, with salt and pepper hair and a kind smile. If the horrendous five o’clock shadow and white lab coat didn’t prove to Siebren that he was a researcher, the way the other astronauts shoved past the man proved it.

He wiped his coat down, frowning as the other astronauts went off on their own accord. It took him a second to realise that Siebren had stayed behind, staring at the walls and ceiling. He pushed up his glasses with his left hand, extending his right in greeting. “S-sorry, I didn’t notice you there. I’m Dr. Harold Winston. You must be Dr. Siebren de Kuiper, right? It’s an honour to have you here.”

Siebren took the offered hand and shook firmly. He’s mildly surprised by the strength in the man’s grip, but didn’t remark upon it. “Not the friendliest bunch, are they.”

“No, not really.” Harold glanced left and right before leaning forward conspiratorially. “Keep this between you and me, but they’re pissed at me for what I did last time.”

“What did you do?”

“The last time they came over, I had just finished administering the gene therapy treatment to Specimen 8. They were only here to check the base’s integrity, same like today, only one gentlemen in that group was not an animal fan, and the other specimens could smell it. I turned my head, and in that moment Specimen 8 had escaped from its cage and ran up the guy’s pants and…well…let’s just say it wasn’t a very pleasant place to bite.” Harold smirked. “Or at least, I told them Specimen 8 escaped from its cage.”

Siebren laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. He’d laugh longer, but Harold suddenly put his hand on his mouth, muffling him. The Lucheng astronauts return, scowling at Harold before continuing onward. He wasn’t sure if it was out of the suddenness of the action, or whether it’s the latent stages of space adaptation syndrome, but all he could focus on was the skin on his lips, impossibly warm and soft.

Long after the astronauts have left, the hand is still over his mouth. If he squinted, Harold’s eyes looked cloudy and unfocused, a flame rekindled after months of winter.

Harold blinked rapidly, and the flame was gone. He took a step back, then another, wiping his hand hastily on his coat. “S-sorry,” he smiled nervously. “It gets a bit lonely up here.”

There was more to Harold’s words, but Siebren didn’t call Harold out on it. He forced himself to smile politely. “I’ll forgive you if you give me the grand tour. I’ve only heard wonderful things about this facility and the research your team have been doing.”

In all of Siebren’s life, he had never seen someone smile so brightly.

Harold led him around the base, making sure to stop by all the important areas. They walked past the laboratories, the simian’s centre, the hydroponics centre, and the garage where they stored their moon rovers, to name just a few. As they moved on, Harold spoke less about the Colony and his team’s research, and more about his fondness for the subjects.. Any other time Siebren might have been annoying, but Harold’s face lit up, and he spoke like he was singing his praises to the gods, and Siebren found that he was enraptured entirely. As they passed by a particularly sunny window, Siebren swore that Harold glowed.

It’s in the final stretches to the sleeping quarters that Siebren was finally able to put a word in. He tried his best to remain stoic and impassive—he had to prove himself as a reputable scientist after all—but one glance at the stars outside and soon he was waxing poetic about the mysteries of the universe. There was passion in his voice, so desperate to be unleashed from its cage that it spilled eagerly down his lips.

He only caught himself when they came to a stop in front of what Siebren assumed to be his new sleeping quarters. A piece of notepaper was stuck in front of the door, his name lovingly written in blue marker.

“You really do love space, don’t you?” Harold remarked.

Siebren cleared his throat loudly. It wasn’t enough to stop the heat rising from his cheeks. He could imagine the face his mother would make if she was here, seeing him blush like a schoolgirl.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” He walked two steps backward to his own sleeping quarters, directly opposite Siebren’s. “If you are half as enthusiastic for your research, I think we can do great things together.”

“You’re…you’re sure about that?”

“I’m serious. All the other scientists here, they’re passionate about their work, but they don’t see the beauty in the world beyond. You and I might be the only ones that understand that.” He gestured to his door. “You ever want or need anything, I’m right here.”

Another time, Siebren might have told Harold the same. At that moment however, he was overwhelmed by a strange heat growing within his chest. He retreated into his quarters, unpacked the few things he had been allowed to take onboard, and lied down on his bed, staring into the ceiling until the heat dissipated into the air.

He spared no thought for the people he left behind on earth. They didn’t hold a candle to the enigmatic Dr. Harold Winston.

The other scientists at Horizon were certainly smart and polite, but Siebren was closest to Harold by far. In the laboratory, they worked together with ease, ideas and discussions rattling off at rapid speed. They never stopped talking to each other, and when they did, that was only because they were apart. Many of the scientists joked that they were boyfriends, but Harold never took offense, and if Siebren was being totally honest, neither did he. He had never connected with another person as well as he did with Dr. Harold Winston. It didn’t matter what people thought. All that mattered was that he found someone like him, who appreciated his eccentricities and passions.

Evidently, Harold thought the same way. The distance between the two of them grew shorter with every rotation of the Earth's axis.

It was but a natural progress that they began to visit each other in their private quarters. Harold was an avid reader, obsessed with all forms and genres of literature. In his room he has crafted a makeshift bookshelf where he kept the physical copies, hidden away from sight. Physical books could be a dangerous weapon in the simians’ hands, and thus it was considered contraband. In response to learning this secret, Siebren revealed his own secret collection: a digital stockpile of every single song and album he had ever heard in his life, stored in a tiny USB, and a pair of ear buds, smuggled in a microscopic slit in his suitcase.

Bonds are forged over secrets, and thus they grew closer still. In the nighttime, when all the other scientists are asleep, Harold would creep over to Siebren’s door and knock in a precise pattern: two knocks in rapid succession, a pause, one knock, another pause, two quick knocks. Siebren would open the door and silently hand one of the earbuds over. Harold would always put it in his left ear, Siebren placing his in his right ear. They’d curl up together in a tiny beanbag chair, the only place that the desk lamp would reach, and Harold would open up the book he had chosen for that night.

Some nights Harold would read out loud, his voice a quiet harmony. Other nights he’d remain silent, reading in peace. A few rare occasions in those silent moments, Siebren took the book from Harold’s hands and read in his place. He wasn’t used to reading out loud, stumbling over his words every now and then, his voice harsh and abrasive like sandpaper, but Harold listened to him anyway with rapturous attention.

It wasn’t uncommon for them to fall asleep in those moments, nestled into each other, like the world didn’t matter. Like the universe was made for the two of them alone.

The holiday season came. All of the other scientists had exited the space station. It was standard practice to let the majority of the scientists go home for the holidays. The base was well equipped with enough autonomous robots to maintain the base while everyone was away but Siebren and Harold chose to stay behind. They sat in the break room, alone, listless. Two empty mugs sat in front of them on the table. A recent batch of eggs sent from the sister base some kilometres away meant that they had the means to make something that tasted like eggnog. It was a pity they didn’t allow alcohol up here. Siebren could make a pretty decent advocaat with the ingredients on hand.

It made sense for Siebren to stay behind. His contract specifically stated he remained on Horizon until the end of his six months contract, which will terminate on Valentine’s day. As for Harold’s reason of staying behind, it remained a mystery. Even though microgravity was all but terminated at the moon base, standard practice was that astronauts and scientists stayed for a year maximum. From what Siebren gathered, Harold had been here for two years.

He’d say something, but an unknown tension grew between them. It was palpable and malleable, so thick that Siebren could taste it in the air. Harold was avoiding his gaze, adjusting his glasses nervously, but if Siebren were to turn his head away, he could feel Harold’s eyes roaming over his body.

With everyone gone, something between them had changed.

“You have family?” Harold asked.

Siebren blinked rapidly. “I’m sorry?”

“I just…I never asked. You know,” he gestured at the Christmas decorations. “Thought today of all days would be a good time.”

Siebren glanced down at his hands folded over his lap. His Christmas playlist chimed over the speakers, but it didn’t give him any comfort. “In terms of immediate family, I only have my mother. I’ve got cousins and nephews and nieces, but they’re scattered across the globe.” He poured himself another cup of eggnog. “I haven’t seen any of them in seven years. Almost exactly seven years, now that I think about it. Our last big family gathering was last Christmas back in Den Haag, crowding together for some gourmetten.”

“No one else in your life?”

“No,” he replied. “I’ve been too busy with my career. The universe’s mysteries have still yet to be seen to mankind, and I will not rest until I find it. I never had the time or interest in romance.” He glanced at Harold. “You?”

A sad look passed over Harold’s eyes and faded away like a comet. “A sister. She lives in Lijiang with her family. We weren’t close though. If I went down to Earth today, she won’t be there to see me.”

Siebren frowned. “No partner yourself?”

“I never found the one. Tried for the better half of my twenties, and when I found failure after failure, I…well, I just kinda gave up. By the time I decided to get back on the saddle, no one wanted a greying, middle aged man like myself.”

“I find that hard to believe. You look rather handsome for your age, and I can only imagine you were equally as attractive when you were younger.” Siebren quickly waved a hand over his face. “Not that I’m the best judge of beauty myself.”

Siebren didn’t know if he imagined the reddish tint on Harold’s cheeks. “Guess I haven’t found anyone that appreciates me yet.” He shook his head, a bittersweet smile forced upon his lips. “At least I’ve got a new family here with the primates. Who needs a partner when you’ve got thirty children?”

The look flashed over Harold’s eyes again, and this time Siebren understood what it meant. “Are you lonely, Harold?”

“L-Lonely?”

“Yes, lonely,” Siebren frowned. “You’ve never mentioned anyone back on Earth until now, and I don’t see you talk to the others on your team all that often.”

Harold shrunk in his seat. Siebren sighed, rising from his seat to approach him. He was significantly taller than Harold, but staring down at him like this, he looked weak and wanting. He didn’t know what force compelled him to run his hand down Harold’s scalp, but he didn’t fight it. A microcosm of emotions breathed out from Harold’s lips; desire and hurt and hesitation fighting for dominance. They looked into each other’s eyes, saw the universe reflected back, and it’s divinely beautiful, escaping all other description.

“Harold,” Siebren started then paused. His heartbeat hammered in his ears, a frantic rhythm that threatened to drown out all sound. He let out a quiet breath. “I’m lonely too.”

Harold pulled Siebren’s hand down so it was now cupping his face. He leant into it, his eyes fluttering. “You too?”

Siebren nodded. “Men of science like us, we seek the mysteries of the world before us because we are in love with it. We hear the melodies the universe sings for us, and we transcribe it, because we want it to be a love song. It’s confusing, time-consuming, and very very lonely, but we wouldn’t love it if it weren’t all these things.”

“Love?” Harold’s eyes widen.

Siebren smiled. “That’s why we’re here, aren’t we?”

Harold didn’t respond in words. He removed his glasses with one hand, flicked his eyes up to Siebren’s lips, and before he could react, Harold kissed him with the force of a black hole. He was sucked in, pulled in by the gravitational attraction of Harold’s lips, density and mass colliding together with wondrous force.

And then, just as suddenly it appeared, the force disappeared. Their combined breaths melted into stardust. They stared at each other, aware in that moment of the Earth reflected in their eyes, big yet small, significant and insignificant.

Harold retreated, pushing himself away from the table and, indirectly, from Siebren. He quickly put his glasses back on, adjusting them with shaky hands. “S-sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“L-likewise for myself.” Siebren cleared his throat.

Logic would dictate that the moment they shared was an outlier, threatening to corrupt the fabric of their bond. Relationships were messy and required far too much effort, Siebren thought, but then he saw the prism of the Milky Way in Harold’s eyes and wondered if perhaps he required further experiments with the other tools at his disposal. A kiss on the lips is one thing, but what about the caress of a hand, or the whisper to an ear?

Siebren shook his head violently, but it was too late. It was Harold Winston’s life to be exceptionally observant in shifts of behavior. Siebren was transparent, his inner thoughts printed in black and white across his face.

“Dr. de Kuiper…Siebren…you feel the same way, don’t you?”

“Any other time, I would deny this, but in the interest of transparency…yes. I think so.”

Harold nodded vacantly. “A relationship wouldn’t work. You’ll be leaving soon, and I’ll remain up here. The subjects need a familiar face. If I do go down to earth, it won't be for long.” He smiled weakly. “Pretty sure long-distance relationships never had the impassable distance of space to deal with.”

“Harold,” Siebren said forcefully, causing Harold to stiffen in surprise. His face softened. “Tell me the truth. Do you want to pursue a relationship with me?”

Harold paused for a moment before nodding. “Yeah.” He didn’t dare look up at Siebren.

Siebren let out a quiet breath. With as much discipline he could muster, he grabbed his chair and pulled it close to Harold, sitting down. He took Harold’s hands into his own, thumbs tracing planetary orbits. He’d never knew or cared about romance, and now suddenly confronted with this possibility, he wished that he did care, if only so he wouldn’t be at a complete loss like he was now. Research required references and accounts, a base in existing literature to form new ideas and discoveries, but Siebren had none to reliably depend on. What reference was there for this, the bond they shared, the gravity that pulled them together?

“I don’t know how long it will last, but I will give it a try,” Siebren rubbed the back of his head. “Even if I have absolutely no idea how I should behave in a relationship.”

Harold laughed quietly, his nerves dissipating. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned since working here, society’s rules don’t matter here. Up here, the politics and squabbles of earth don't matter anymore.” He leaned forward, the flash of flames in his eyes, a mark of his desire. “I know exactly when the new crew will arrive. We’ve got about 36 hours, give and take.”

“Oh?” Sigma’s eyes widen. “Oh! Uh…OK. Here or…?” He glanced around their surroundings.

“Probably somewhere comfier than here. I mean, unless I totally misinterpreted that and you don’t want to…well…” Harold chuckled nervously. “I just realized how forward that sounded. We can take things slow. I'll honestly be happy with whatever you're happy with.”

Siebren couldn’t help but smile. Wordlessly they stood up, the two of them staring at their conjoined hands. Atoms split apart, forming heat and light where their palms touched. Their thoughts fused together, brain waves synchronizing as an image floated above. It was the two of them, lying side by side on Siebren’s bed, mapping out the stars with their fingertips. Galaxies blossomed with their kisses, the whole expanse of space to explore within the boundaries of a King-sized bed. They look up at each other and knew in that moment that they had found the one. They walked over to the sleeping quarters, hand in hand, safe in the knowledge that, at least for a little while, there was one more person in their small, solitary world that understood them.

The man known as Sigma flies alone up to Horizon Lunar Colony. It’s been at least a decade, but upon arrival, he notices that nothing has changed in this place. The walls are still that familiar off-white. The moon outside the base is still inviting. The telescope still reaches out for Earth like an outstretched hand, asking for a dance. It’s beautiful, but there’s a staleness to the air, the smell of decay and abandonment. No longer can he hear the hoots and grunts of the chimpanzees, the squeaks of the hamster, or the grunts of the gorillas. The buzzing sounds of the speakers are gone, replaced with a single tone.

Fragmented memories resurface, of the research he performed, of the opportunities he acquired, but most of all on the romance that died in the outer reaches of space. Harold had joked they were star-crossed lovers in a more literal of the word. That was not too long before the fatal incident. Siebren remembered the horror he felt, guilt and regret dunking his face in cold water. He had planned to meet Harold when he touched down on Earth, two weeks after. He had planned to ask Harold if he was willing to take the next step in their relationship. His mother had gifted Siebren his father’s old engagement ring, her silent blessing.

No one could have predicted the animal uprising. Not even sweet, kind Harold, the one person who genuinely cared for the gorillas as living beings and not as test subjects.

Sigma frowns, letting the memories wash away. He cannot let himself get lost to sentimentality. He’s here for one purpose only. He’s here on a mission.

The gravity programs have malfunctioned, bringing back the microgravity of the moon, but Sigma’s powers prove to be beneficial. He walks, not floats, past the entrance hallway, past the break rooms, and enters the laboratory area.

He finds them there, floating near the corner of the laboratory. Papers float in perfect position around them, some scientific in nature, others more intimate passages meant for private eyes. There’s writing on every single piece of paper, starting messy and illegible on the left, before becoming more clear and distinct. Purple veins crept up their skin, tufts of hair sticking out in uncomfortable angles.

Sigma clears his throat loudly, and they turn to him, eyes wide and animalistic. He sees that even their face is distorted and pale, an oxygen mask hiding their nose and lips, the tube winding round their neck and leading down to a makeshift backpack that’s constantly extracting the air and pumping it, purifying it.

“How did you get here?” The voice croaked, barely audible from behind the mask.

Sigma frowns. “I was sent to rescue you. I’ve come to take you back down to Earth.”

They float up to him, propelling forward by the microgravity before pulling to a stop on the table. Sigma waves his hands and they gently fall down, standing on normal gravity. They look up to him, a flash of recognition passing over their eyes like a comet. “Siebren?”

“It’s Sigma now. The man you knew as Siebren de Kuiper is long gone now.”

“He’s not there?” They point at his forehead.

“Bits and pieces, struggling to remain together.” Sigma frowns, as Siebren’s memories return. “I made the same mistake you did. I didn’t double check my math, and I paid the price.”

“And Subject 28?”

“Lived his dreams in Overwatch.”

“Lived?”

“Overwatch is no more. He’s still alive though. Goes by Winston nowadays.”

The figure laughed for a second before coughing violently into their mask. Their eyes smiled. “Of all the names in the world, that’s what he chooses. I should’ve known.”

They start choking suddenly, a horrendous gasp that sounds like the air had turned to poison. Sigma watches as they take a syringe and plunge it into their neck, depressing it right into the carotid artery. The puncture wound heals almost in an instant. Their skin reverts into something that vaguely resembles human flesh.

Sigma takes their hand and slowly leads them out of the laboratory. They’re both wearing gloves, but Sigma still feels the faint heat of their flesh escaping, and the memories flood back. He’s reminded of lonely days in the break room and lonely nights in sleeping quarters, curled up next to someone with a kind face and a kinder heart.

He should consider himself lucky, all things considering. Subject 31, as he’s currently known, has spent years living in complete isolation, the only human contact coming from the Lucheng Intersteller astronauts desperate to find a way to bring him home. The force of gravity is the main issue, the pressure of the spacecraft entering the earth’s atmosphere to high for their fragile body. That is why Talon ordered Sigma to come here and guide him back.

It’s almost cruel how much of their life events intertwine, like the universe is playing games to pull them apart and bring them back together again.

“Where are you taking me?” They ask.

Sigma turns to them, trying his hardest not to smile. It’s difficult, though. Even after all this time, even though his mind is fragile and memories are splintered, a familiar warmth creeps down his chest. “Home, Harold. I’m taking you home.”

There’s a cough, and then a weak laugh. “It’s been so long. I cannot recall how long I’ve been waiting for today.” He turns to Sigma, a smile hidden beneath his mask. “If you’re no longer Siebren, I’m allowed to give myself a new name.”

Siebren laughed quietly. “Then what’s your name now?”

“I’m rather a fan of Tristan, actually.”

“From Tristan and Iseult?”

They shrugged, grinning with their eyes. “I always liked a good story. Even the ones that end in tragedy.”

Sigma can feel years and years of lost and yearning resurface in their eyes, twinkling with the brightness of the North star. It’s the same person underneath that mask, the same brilliant man with a heart as big as the universe. It’s poetic that they find each other again, after years of loneliness. They did once before, and they have done it again today. They cannot escape the black hole that pulls them together, distorting time and space and matter. They always find a way back to each other.

Sigma squeezes his hand tightly. The man now known as Tristan squeezes back. “Let’s go home, Siebren.”

Sigma nods. “We’ve both got a lot of catching up to do, Harold.”

“I can’t wait.”

The entire trip to the spacecraft, they walked hand in hand, afraid that if they let go, they’ll be all alone again, trapped in their gilded cages.

#Overwatch #Sigma #Sigma overwatch #Siebren de kuiper #Harold Winston #If I convert you guys to this crazy crack ship I have done my job #I WROTE OVER 4000 WORDS IN TWO DAYS FOR THIS FIC #I'm...dedicated to say the least #And uh...at least stick around for the ending because it's a doozy (in a good way)#If you like it please reblog it because it really does help spread the word #I want people to know I've spent two weeks writing four fanfics for foxy stoat toad grandpa

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l-x-ie · 7 years

Text

Go Away

The last installment of Please Don’t Go

Notes:

there was research done on prairie voles to see the effects of oxytocin injected and it was discovered that they found mate right away after they were injected.

no i will not write Keith’s epic soul journey maybe

alt name: All Chemical, That Fucker Oxytocin, Love is an Open Door jkjkjk, I’m Staying, but I wanted to keep with the pattern

References 1 2 3 4 5 6 they’re not scientific journal but hey, I’m not writing a paper in APA formatting.

Pidge said that love was all chemical.

Four main components: serotonin, dopamine and norepinephrine, adrenaline, and that absolute fucker called oxytocin.

Low levels of serotonin made the brain makeup remarkably similar to a person who has OCD, obsessing over the person you believe yourself in love with. What’s Keith doing? Is he safe? Is he happy? I miss his stupid eyes and his stupid hair and his stupid face. Is that person over there that looks nothing like him, him? No of course not because you’re fucking obsessed Lance.

An increase in adrenaline making for that faux feeling of butterflies in your stomach, anxious, jumpy, that dizzying but addicting feeling of being around that person. Honestly, it would be very scary, it’s reducing the blood flow to your stomach and bringing it to the muscles in case you need to take a punch or throw one. Maybe that’s why he felt to need to punch his stupid ass face.

Of fucking course a real kicker, an increase of dopamine and norepinephrine. Being with that person, seeing that person, seeing that person’s picture is a reward. A biological reward to keep coming back to them like crack. It’s a need to see them, elation, a drug, all happening in the mesolimbic dopamine system. Which is the best way to describe him right now, a druggie going through withdrawal who can’t get their next hit. From getting that high from seeing him every damn day, within arms reach, close enough to see, smell, and touch. Encouraging that damn reward system. All that lovey, feel-good shit gone, just like that. Nothing. Cold turkey. Withdrawal. He fell and now he’s crashing to the ground.

It all should wear off. He was told it always feels longer than it is. It might not be the end of the world but every time Lance thinks he sees him, or sees a knife, or the color red, it feels like the end of his world again and again.

It’s all chemical.

It will wear off soon. Biologically it has to. It’s easy, a venting of feelings and spending time with other people to forget about a certain someone is easy. For a few hours. The standing time of forgetting about him is getting longer, so there’s hope. Soon he’ll forget about him for an entire day hopefully.

But that fucker oxytocin.

The cuddle hormone. The commitment neuromodulator. The love hormone. The hormone that’s fucking him over. Because it’s been six months and he somehow was still hung up on the guy like some stupid prarie vole hocked up on oxytocin.

It’s all because of his fucked up brain chemicals made too much oxytocin.

He had fantasized on what he would do when Keith came back, if he came back. At first it was petty and saying hell no before slamming the door in his mullet-ed face. Then even his daydreams got desperate thinking he was going to come back and Lance would forgive him and they’d finally be together instead of…. whatever they were before. But those are exactly what they are, daydreams, fantasies, fiction.

Now his fantasies are cool and collected but still end with a stern hell no before a door slam to the face. He decided to embrace the petty. That’s what he is, why deny it.

Despite what he imagined he’d do if Keith ever came crawling back to his life, he never actually expected it. Which is why, when he answered the door he expected Hunk or Pidge, maybe even Shiro, Allura, or Coran. Never did he ever think that it would be Keith Kogane staring at him through too long bangs.

His heart stuttered to a stop and he’s ninety percent sure when he opened the door Keith punched him in the solar plexus because he didn’t have air. And his chest hurt. Just from seeing him in his damn doorway six months of work just flew out the damn window.

He did what he always fantasized.

He slammed the door in his goddamned face.

He was at the door again.

The guy just wont quit. He’s trying to get over him, he can’t move on if he won’t go away.

He flung the door open, game face on in the presence of an opponent. “What do you want, Keith.”

His opponent flinched back slightly before determination furrowed his brow. “I just need to talk to you, Lance.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“You don’t have to! Just lis—“

“Eh!” He made a buzzer noise. “Wrong, I do have something to say.” He advanced on him, invading Keith’s personal bubble. “I said I wouldn’t be here if you left, Keith. Did you think I would wait for you like some goddamned puppy? No! I got over you.” He stepped back and started to close the door. “Just, go away, Keith.”

The click of the door gave him a sense of satisfaction.

Lance shook out his umbrella as the bell chimed. Setting it in the corner to dry he started to unzip his hoodie as he walked up to the counter. He smiled at the barista. “Hi, Sarah, could I get small campfire mocha, hot, please?”

The brunette smiled at him and typed his order into the register. “Dark chocolate like always?”

He snapped his fingers and shot her a couple of fingerguns. “You know me so well, doll.”

She rolled her eyes at him with a soft smile. “Okay, three seventy-five.”

He handed her a five and when she handed him the change he dropped it into the tip jar. He moved to the side when a hand wrapped around his wrist. He sighed.

Keith.

It’s always Keith.

Over the past weeks he just kept showing up at his door to talk. Even if he kept shutting the door in his face, he left after his face met wood but now that he was around it made Lance even more aware of him. He always saw Keith popping up out of the oddest places. The grocery store, the park, and now his coffee shop. Each sighting a little prick to his heart, making him bleed out in little drops. Lance stayed strong but his pettiness has been worn away at like water on the shore, weathering the sharp points and leaving dulled tiredness.

“What do you want, Keith?”

“I want to talk to you, Lance.”

He shook off his grip easily and dragged his hands down his face. “Before my coffee? I just wanted my coffee, Keith, just my coffee. Now you’re here. God, why.”

“Because I fucked up.” His face twisted into something akin to desperation. He looked down and licked his lips. “Please, Lance. I want to apologize.”

Lance held up a hand. “No, no, you see? Apologizing will only make you feel better. It won’t fix anything, or go back in time, or magically make me forgive you; it does shit. They’re just words. Now, go away, Keith.”

He went up to the counter where Sarah discreetly left his drink and left. Forgoing the umbrella as the door clanged shut.

Lance sighed as he trudged through the door. Dropping his bag on the couch to grab a bowl of soup Hunk left the last time he was there before vegging in front of the TV for a few hours. Juuust after a few episodes of Stranger Things he’ll work on his paperwork for his class. Who else would be better to teach those kids at the Garrison about alien diplomacy?

There was knocking on the door after the first few bites. Lance groaned. He set his soup down and flopped down on his side. Taking a pillow he tried to smother it over his head. It muffled the knocking but then Keith had to call out in the voice Lance only thought about since the guy left him in the dust.

“Lance, please! I know you’re in there! I can hear the TV! I just…I just want to explain.”

Lance just buried himself further into the couch, pillow obscuring his vision. Hearing his voice and knowing he’s actually there behind that door, it’s like someone is digging into a fresh bruise. Sore, painful, but the pain is strangely addicting. To just keep kneading at that bruise until that little pain was a constant throbbing, put the pain was worth the accelerated healing.

It became quiet. Lance could imagine him with his big violet eyes sad and limpid, hand against the door that won’t open. “Lance?” he breathed. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. I was really messed up, still am a bit, and I thought leaving and cutting myself from everyone until I figured it out was best. I was wrong. I mean, I was kinda right, I got help but I should’ve done it with you. I know you don’t want to talk to me and I’ll take a hint. I won’t come back and force you to do something you don’t want to. I’m sorry, Lance.”

Against his better judgment Lance jumped out from behind his pillow shield and ran to the door, jerking it open, but no one was there.

A couple of weeks later and that oxytocin was still going strong, except ten times worse. Everything reminded him of Keith. Because, while he didn’t come by the apartment he was still there. Down the road, across the store, tantalizing close but so far out of his reach. The worst part was that he could have had Keith. It was his fault this time. The worst thing was that Keith was gone for good this time. Lance held out hope that Keith would come back, had fantasies on how he would slam that door in his face. There are no fantasies this time. Keith’s gone for good because he believed that Lance doesn’t want him to come back.

God are ex’s supposed to hurt this much?

Ha.

He’s the butt of that particular joke because Keith wasn’t even an ex. Everything was sluggish and grey. No dopamine or norepinephrine here. It was harder to concentrate, thanks to that serotonin, but everything just blurred in his vision anyway.

There was a soft knock on the door.

Lance sat up quicker than how Keith would threaten to cut him every time he left the toothpaste uncapped.

Keith?

Wrapping his blanket around his shoulders he scrambled to the door but pausing before opening. Don’t act desperate. Don’t act like you need him. Don’t act like you’re gettin’ next hit.

Druggie, his mind whispered.

He cleared his throat to open up to…nothing.

A throat cleared.

He directed his gaze down to see Pidge. First layer of hair and shoulders wet from the recent weather, smiling a half smile at him.

“’Bout time you opened up.” She shook her head so raindrops darkened the blanket draping his shoulders in splatters. “Are you just going to stare at me?”

Lance shook himself. “Yeah, sorry, Pidge.”

As she walked through the door he dropped his blanket on top of her head, before the liquid could soak through the rest of her hair. She scrubbed the blanket into her hair, turning into a dandelion mess.

“You weren’t at school again.”

“Yeah, well, I got Coran to sub for me.”

“You’re children are scarred for life now, Lance.”

“Nothing like good ol’ emotional scarring to improve character right?”

A deadpan look was his only response.

He scrubbed his hands over his face, feeling the slight bumps of acne from stress. “I’m sorry, Pidge, okay? I’ll show up to class, I just need a break for a while.”

She backed up until she met the couch and sad down, blanket in a damp heap next to her. “Is this about Keith?”

Lance stubbed his toe on the coffee table. “Fuck! Ow ow ow ow,” he rubbed his toe, “why would you think that?”

She kicked off her shoes before crossing her legs in that childlike way of hers on the couch. “Because he’s staying in town and went to everyone to apologize for going on a life journey to find himself?”

“But that doesn’t mean I would be effected by his stupid life-altering journey,” he said shaking out his foot.

“Well, you’re in love with him and lived with him so that has to count for something.”

“I don’t love him anymore Pidge. You’re the one that said that love was just a chemical reaction in the brain. It’s been a little over a year now, my brain chemistry is fine now.”

“Not from where I’m sitting, Lance. You’re still in love with him and you’re stupid pride is preventing you from forgiving him and making up.” She crossed her arms and shot him a look over her glasses.

His hand flew up. “It doesn’t even matter, Pidge! He’s gone, okay? I ruined it and he’s… he’s…” his hands fell to his lap, “he gave up. I made him give up.”

He could feel Pidge’s stare on him. Feel it boring into the side of his skull as she sat like a kindergartener. “What?”

“You…you honestly think that Keith gave up on you?” Her voice was incredulous and she was looking at him like he lost more marbles than usual. She got up on her knees and started thwaping him with the damp blanket. “You—“ Thwap! — “dumbass!” She dropped the blanket and collapsed like cut marionette into the cushions, mumbling that he was so stupid over and over. Finally she took a breath and said very slowly, with enunciation. “Has it occurred to you that he’s giving you space?! That he’s respecting your decision? That he still holds out the hope that you’ll seek him out? The ball is in your corner. He gave you the ball. He gave you his balls!”

Lance was speechless; it just kept rolling through his mind. He gave you his balls. He gave you his balls.

“He gave me his balls!”

“He gave you his balls!”

“Holy shit!”

“Aaaaahhhh!”

“Aaaaaaahhhhhhh!”

After that epiphany it was a couple of days for him to sort out everything, what his feelings were, what he would say, what he wanted, what Keith wanted. Here he is, speeches cluttering his brain, with varied responses for whatever he might say. He had everything planned out from inviting him to dinner to talk and from the conversation that followed, after was more ambiguous. He had no idea what would come out of it.

All of those plans went out the window when he saw Keith in the window of the coffee shop on one rainy afternoon. Before he knew what was happening his feet were on the move and the bell chimed as he opened the door, drawing Keith’s attention.

His eyes widened when he recognized the person who opened the door, wet from the rain. He bit his lip and looked away and back, uncharacteristically indecisive, before settling on a small smile and turning back to wait for his drink. Like…accidentally seeing a coworker outside of work. Knowing them but not friends, and that knowledge settled like a rock in his stomach knowing that he’s a participant in that.

He took a breath and walked over, soft footsteps, until he was right next to him. Keith looked at him with those big eyes, alarmed but hopeful. “Keith, I—I’m ready to talk now.”

He nodded and breathed out a soft, “okay.”

Lance ordered and Keith waited for him at a table by the big window. The blue-green letters arcing above him. Watching the pitter-patter of the rain making patterns on the window. He sat down across from him, hands on his coffee, elbows off the table, like he’s at an interview.

“Kei—“

“I didn’t think you’d ever want to see me again.”

“Ah, to be honest, I didn’t think so either.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Keith, I was being petty and hurtful. I should’ve heard you out.”

Quietly, barely a breath, Keith said, “I shouldn’t’ve left in the first place.”

“I’m sorry,” they both blurted simultaneously. That brought a light chuckle from the both of them, leavening the atmosphere.

“Why don’t,” Lance started, “why don’t you go first.”

Keith nodded.

For the next several hours until the rain slowed to a drizzle and the grey clouds overhead darkened with the setting sun they talked about what the other missed, they confessed their fears and feelings, told jokes or reminisced on funny stories to lighten the mood again. In that coffee shop, in the rain, they slowly got to know each other again, going back to where they left off but with a new beginning. Still having an entire story ahead of them but hopefully with a new ending.

Lance traced the rim of his cup with a finger. “So, uh, are you staying?”

Keith looked him dead in the eye and said, “I’m not going away again, Lance, not unless you want me to.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Good, because I don’t want you to. Go away, that is.”

Keith chuckled, shaking his head. “I understand.”

When the door chimed but neither looked away from the other.

#klance #lance #keith #my writing #vld #canon divergence #lex writes #it's a happy ending #angst #like???#not sure how good my angst is but I gave it a shot #unedited #I'm DONE #FINALLY

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anxietytaleofficial-blog · 7 years

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AnxietyTale Volume 1 FULL original

Design and story ideas: http://aminoapps.com/p/n1wwgr and Me Author: http://aminoapps.com/p/yib7wb fir chapter 1 and I wrote the rest Story: ANXIETY TALE What I didn't see coming, was falling. I knew I shouldn't have been up at Mt. Ebbott, but I felt very attracted to it. So, like any sane person, I climbed it. But I fell. I could hear my parents so clear in my head, it's like they were there with me: "Sam, Come Back!" I fell into cold stone and what looked like golden flowers. But one of them was moving, keeping its head down. "Um hello" I want to know who this is very badly. "Frisk?!" The flower looks at me hopefully but then his eye harden at the sight of me. The flower smiles. "H-howdy... I'm f-flowey. Flowey the f-flower." I decide flowey is creepy. Flowey looks at me. Grief flashes along his face and I can tell he is alone. Flowey was sitting there crying.. I feel bad for him. I pick him up and hold him. As a introduce myself a strange figure comes from the shadows. She looks like a goat but like she standing on her hind legs.*"strange" i think to myself* "Hello fris-" the creature said. she looks at me with surprise. " you're not frisk... well, hello my child, I'm am toriel." "H-Hi Toriel. I'm Sam. Um, Where exactly am I?" Tories smiles but then sees flowey in my arms "You've found him! Oh my! Child, I can never repay you for this!" I was confused. This Toriel person was freaking out over a talking flower... Toriel wanted that flower. I dont really know why, but I feel some sort of connection to this flower. I want him. She can't have him. He's mine and I need to take him away. Toriel looked at me confused. She asked why she cant have him. I ran. Ran though her house, over the chain and through the basement and to the door. I dont know why I am but somethings compelling me to open this strange door. I open the door. I stepped into the cold air looking around desperately, flowey still in my arms. That's when a bloby shape came out of the shadows it was a blob with a cracked mask... he was.. smiling.. he walked ..no.. GLIDED over to me. Then, in a split second a short skeleton appeared next to me. He then grabbed me, and next thing I knew I was in a strange restaurant. ???: "Welcome to Grillby's! Oh. Sans." A monster made of fire cheerfully announced as soon as we appeared in the restaurant his voice loosing interest as he saw the skeleton standing next to me. Sans: "yo, grillby! its been a while, lets... ketchup!" The skeleton pulled out a bottle of ketchup when saying that. Grillby:"Your puns never cease to amuse me, sans." Grillby responded sacastically. Sans:"i'll take that as a.. condement!" I laughed at Sans's pun, but stopped when grillby seemed to be glaring at me. Sans: "c'mon kid, let's take a seat." Once we were seated at the bar, I began asking questions. "What was that thing?!" "Was it after me?!" Sans:" hey, kid. i dont know what it was either, but it doesnt matter right now. i'm sans, but i think you already overheard that. "Yeah.." I responded slowly, slightly smirking. Sans:"you outta meet my bro, papyrus. he's pretty headstrong, being the head of the royal gaurd, but he's a cool dude." Flowey: "we've met." I get a bit startled, considering flowey had been silent for the entire time we were at this place. Sans looks a bit shocked as well, I mean, a flower in my pocket DID just start talking. Sans: "so you're the flower my bro keeps talkin' about." Flowey:"I guess." Sans:"soo.. umm.. kid, why are you here?" "I've heard stories... families, children, moms, dads, people with lives, they're stuck down here.. so.... I'm here to break the barrier!" I said confidently. But before i could say more.. sans:" its uh... its already broken, kid.." "What?!" I exclaim, i cant believe my ears. "Why?!" Sans:"well, the last human was.. killed, and the barrier was broken. After the queen realised the deaths of all the humans were for nothing and asgore could have used one human to destroy the barrier, she re-enstated her power as queen and forbayed anyone from leaving the underground, fearing they might do to us what we did to them." Sans looks down at his feet. He's definitly hiding something, but I'm not sure what.... Flowey:"heh, my parents are just all rainbows and sunshine, aren't they?" Sans: "your parents?" I guess he doesnt know. I kinda figured it out considering toriel was obsessed with him. Sans:"kid. That... thing.. was an amalgamate." "Whats an amalgamate?" I asked, Sans"Creatures, fused with determination.. Dr.Alphys, the royal scientist began working monsters who were badly injured, or sick.. and filled them with determination... but, they melted and fused together. Becoming shadows of their former selves. After Undyne, head of the royal gaurd died im battle, Dr.Alphys lost it and gave up on her scientific research, letting the amalgamates roam free in the underground." I think of anything to say.. its all so sad, and terrifying at the same time. As I think through this, a small voice in my head calls to me ???:"sam...." the voice repeats my name, each time getting louder, and more violent. The voice, is starting to take over my entire brain.. I place both palms on my forehead, as if i has a headache. I cringe everytime the voice calls to me, as the voice fades, sans is staring at me..... worried. Sans:"...kid? are you okay?....kid?" I finally snap back to reality. Flowey and Sans are looking at me wierdly. I guess I attracted some attention. Well, nothing I can do."sorry, i have a headache.." I guess that's not a lie.. technically.. Flowey: "Dont die on us now. I need you to take me to my dad! Then you can die!" "Thanks, flowey." was that a joke, or?... Eh, I dont care. Sans: "You need a transport somewhere? Like this weed's house?" Flowey:"We dont need YOUR help. And dont call me weed, ya talking trashbag." "Flowey! Thats very rude! We'd love to have your help, sans!" Sans:"heh. okay. sounds fun, kid!" And so, we set off on our 'big adventure'! Well, our Big Adventure started in a friggin inn. We slept untill around 9:20 am, it's kinda wierd, but if you get passed flowey staring at you and Sans's extremely loud snoring in the other room, its peacefull in a wierd way. Anyway, its morning. I have to wake sans up. Flowey:" WAKE UP TRASHBAG!!!!!" Sans:"*sigh* five more...." flowey and I procees to shake sans hard. Waking him up fast.. Sans:"ugh... im up.. im up.." sans finally got up, and we started our day. As we walked through snowdin, the ice became thicker, and thicker, untill we an area completly covered in thick snow, hiding extensive puzzles, traps, and other things of the sort. Sans:"yeah.. my bro put up these traps. he's really commited." We all laugh, and then spend hours in the snowmaze, regretting laughing. "Ugh... I hate life." I say on our fifth hour in the maze and 76th puzzle. Flowey:"I can make that feeling go away with a couple 'friendliness pelets.' Sans:"This is gonna take a while." I sit up, It's too dark to see where I am, I stand up and look around. After looking around a little while, I see a stange figure, speaking in an unknown language to itself. I walk toward it, but I'm kinda frightened. Once I get close enough, I can see his face, a crescent moon shape for his mouth, his right eye looking the same, and his left eye, an oval. On both eyes, jagged cracks on his skull, or mask, or whatever that thing is. He's speaking to me, I cant understand, but at the same time, I know what he wants me to do.. ???: "KILL. KILL. KILL." Somehow i just know that's what he's saying. ???:"KILL!! KILL!! KILL!!" His intentions echo in my head, I scream, but no one hears, im on my knees, screaming for help, pleading, but no one came. No one came. No one came, thease words repeat themselves, as if they have a second meaning. No one came , no one came, no one came. But, as I'm screaming for help, I hear a faint voice, calling to me. I'm frightened, and alone, but this voice is giving me hope, as it gets louder, I can hear what it's saying. ???:"kid? kid!!!" Suddenly, I'm back in the maze. With Sans and Flowey. I'm safe again. Safe. Sans:"kid, are you okay? you've been out for a while now." "Yeah, I'm... fine." That's not even remotely true. I feel like crap. "What happened?" Sans:"we almost completed the maze, and the you just collapsed." Sans:"did anything.. happen? While you were out? Any wierd dreams or memories?" "What kind of question is that?" I don't remember anything. Sans:"i don't know, really. just wanted to make sure you're okay, i guess." "... Okay, I guess.." Flowey:"Okay!! She's fine! Lets go!" And we're off again. We've been walking forever. I thought the exit was close, but i was wrong. If only we could just leave. Sans and Flowey have been bickering like an old couple and I'm really hungry. Okay, finally, the've stopped argueing. Flowey seems happy but sans is not a happy camper. I try talking to him, but he's not listening to anything I say.. It feels like this place is just getting quieter, and quieter. And i swear the closer we get to the exit, the harder it gets to walk. Suddenly, it feels like time just stopped, sans and flowey are fading away, like a blurry photo, and I'm alone again, in the dark, scared, and cold. The figure appeared again, tormenting me, ???:"they're not really your friends, you know that, right?" " No!! Stop it!! They are my friends!! I know they are!! Stop!!" And then, his face morphed, and he dissapeared, leaving me in the dark, alone again. After what felt like hours terrified in this endless void, I woke up again with Sans and Flowey, and, for once, seeing another living thing was the best part of my life... After gettong out of the snow maze, we headed to waterfall. Its still wierdly quiet.. like something is sealing our mouths shut. That's it! I've had enough of it! "Come on guys!! You need to talk! Make some kind of interaction!y Stop giving each other the silent treatment!" The truth is, after what happened, I'm afraid of silence... Sans: "jeez, kid. calm down. are you okay?" "Yeah... Sorry. I overreacted." I never noticed the large scar on his left eye. might as well ask him. "Soo.. I never really asked you.. how did you get that scar?" Sans cringed and his smile faded. Sans: "...*slow sigh* well, i was the one who killed the 7th human... and, way before that, i made a promise, a promise to someone very special. the promise was that if a human came to the underground, i would pritect that human and no harm would come to them... but after the things that human did, i couldn't just stand by when they came back.. the person i made that promise to.. they found out, and tried to do to me what i did to the human...they gave me this crack on my skull... but... my brother... he tried to stop them, get some sense into them... but, in their blind rage... they killed him." Hearing sans speak of death, and the immense pain he felt after Papyrus's death, I learned that when Sans heard that we needed help, he saw it as a way to redeem himself, And show his friends he wasn't just a killer. He could be a hero, too. I learned about his insecurities getting worse, his anxiety growing, and his dreams turning against him, how he uses a big grin and comedy to mask his pain, and loneliness. We sat and talked for hours, talking about everything, after that, I view sans completly differently than I did at first.. knowing almost everything about him. After we talked for a while, we were back on our way. We made it past waterfall and into The hotlands. When we got to the hotlands, we found spears covering the walls and the a burned eyepatch, sitting next to a large hole in the bridge system leading to the castle. Sans" I hate being here. I've got an idea! I haven't tried in a while, but..." He proceeded to grab my hand, and soft blue light surrounded us. And my eyes closed. I felt like we were traveling miles in seconds, the air pushing against us, when I opened my eyes, we were in a completely different place, the sudden stop in speed flung my hair forward, and flying back into my face, covering my eyes with a long scarlet forest of hair. Pushing the hair back, I spot a large figure, wearing a purple cape and crown, the crown in between it's two horns, It turned around, hearing the commotion behind it. ???: "H-Howdey! Would you like some tea?" Flowey:"D-Dad? It's me, asriel!" ???:"Asriel?! Is that really you?!" Flowey:"Dad!!!" Sans:"sup, your majesty?" ???:"Ha! There is no need for formalitties, Sans. You can just call me Asgore." "I am so confused" I say. I'm looking for answers. Asgore:" Well, I am asgore, King of the underground, and that flower you're holding, I think is my son." ----This concludes AnxietyTale volume 1! If you want volume 2 chapter 1, make sure to like and share this--- P.s. sorry about the extremely short last paragraph.

#underfell

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thecreativeblossom · 7 years

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How I Found My Style In Art?

Hi, I am Jean and I am an illustrator. I have around 10 years of experience and I am one of those people who would never be able to imagine themselves doing anything else, but art.

I am a very visual person and I like to experiment in art. To me art is like a place where “I can make mistakes” in order to create something that I really like.

One of the things that I am grateful for today is that after a lot of years of incredible struggle I finally feel comfortable with my work, it feels natural to draw and I feel it’s my style. Don’t get me wrong I am not bragging, but this is something very important in this business, to enjoy what you are doing. Still, I don’t think my style is complete and “finished”, I believe one’s style is always changing, evolving. Just like people change, their style changes too. Their art changes too.

I will never forget how obsessed I was a few years ago, and how I desperately wanted only one thing: to find my own style. It was all that I could think about and could not rest, because I wanted it to happen. Soon, very soon.

I was longing to find my identity in art, I wanted to define my style and my style to define me.

I was always interested in art, I remember in middle school I was accepting my classmates’ requests to draw them whatever we had to draw during class. It felt relaxing to draw, it helped me to quiet my thoughts.

As I grew I became more analytical but I still had my curiosity for art. In high school I finished maths-informatics and I can’t say I was passionate about it, although I am a rational person, but I have learn’t programming and algorithms. It was a great challenge but I have to admit that I still find these studies very helpful even if I later chose different directions (University of Arts). In my last year of the university, I started to have this huge desire, to find my style. I felt like I am at a point where I had studied anatomy, forms, colors etc. but something was missing. And even if these studies are based on observing and copying what you see, we can not say they exclude the artist’s unique gesture or style.

But I wanted something very very different, I wanted my style to be recognizable, and in illustration I had plenty options and a wide range of tools, techniques that made this possible. I like to think that the way I perceive everything is pretty scientific and to me art is like science, where I can experiment and discover new things. Probably this complexity and freedom in illustration triggered my curiosity and passion. I remember gazing at amazing illustrators’ works, styles and wanted to have this identity in art, to be like them.

I can’t sort all the things that I did in order to find my style, because there are a lot, but I will try. At first I want to point out some mistakes, things I believe were like obstacles in front of me, between me and my goal:

1. First of all, we should know that there are a lot of battles in our minds, and in order to achieve something, at first we need to have the right thoughts. In high-school I finished maths and informathics, so this is known as being very different from art (Warning! Labelling is very very wrong). I wasn’t very good at it, but I’ve always known that I am pretty rational and analytical. My rational background (maths-informatics) and the lack of creative studies before the university kept haunting me limiting my abilities in my mind. I always thought, “art is not really for me, I am too rational, I am not really an artist because I’ve studied programming before”. This was a huge barrier, and a huge mistake. You should never ever believe that you can’t do something that you put your mind, heart, and effort in it.

2. The second mistake I had was that I wanted to hurry the process, I think I was considering more important what I showcase to people than what gratifies my curiosity. I slowly learnt, that artists don’t have to showcase every little piece of art, sketches, anything that they make. Because we are not in the university anymore, and the sketching, learning process is behind our finished piece, and is very personal. In order to create a masterpiece you have to build things up. Just like when you go to the cinema you don’t even think of watching the whole storyboard and alternate scenes, you only want to see a movie. You don’t have to show everything, just what you find worthy to show to the public. Even though I was and I am a pretty patient person, I know now that I didn’t have much patience then; I wanted my first sketch to be perfect, to instantly scan it and to turn it into an illustration. And to show it to the whole world.

3. I was afraid of making a mistake. This goes hand in hand with patience, because somehow I felt like I was during a test and I had to make the first sketch perfect. Whenever I didn’t make it, I started to blame myself, and I was ruining my mood, my curiosity with it.

4. Comparison. This is a tough one. While for an artist art is like food for soul, it’s simply inevitable to look at other artists’ works, achievements and success. We need to grow visually and this hunger brings us in a great error: we tend to compare ourselves with other artists. It’s something that at first I didn’t recognize, because I guess I was too driven, but it’s definitely a big “mistake” and it’s not fair to compare yourself to artists who are probably in the business for ages. Or if I put it this way: do you think it’s fair to compare the IQ of a toddler with the IQ of an adult? Another fact that I found also very important is that we are all different and we all have different journeys. We can’t compare each other’s lives and journeys because these are the things that make us unique, we are all uniquely different.

So what really helped me?

I tried to calm down and started to listen to podcasts from various artists while I was working, I understood they ALL have gone through these struggles just like me and I started to work with less hesitation and fear, with more focus and I was content

Started to ‘force’ myself to think positive and to believe that I can achieve great things

Learnt that I don’t have to showcase anything, perhaps just the final piece; I am not doing art to impress anybody, I am doing art (strictly) for MYSELF (this changes when you work with clients)

I imagined that if I was successful I would have a certain attitude, and I tried to adjust my way of thinking to that. In my mind a successful person is someone who goes through the struggles and becomes much stronger. I was thinking of what would I do differently if I was successful, what steps would I make, would I be optimistic or pessimistic? Would I be content or blaming myself for every mistake? To control our thoughts is a constant struggle but it’s necessary to pay attention to our thinking. Because the patterns of our thoughts create feelings, which then create habits, which will easily be merged into our personality and change it. The roots of a great personality are great thoughts - every single day!

I bought children’s books and studied them

I spent hours in bookstores hunting for new styles, artists, wrote down the names and made my research when I got home

Created various sketches for one single illustration, and then I picked the best one to illustrate it (this is actually the right process)

I was working for stock websites where I didn’t receive critics, earned some little money and I could follow the trends and work freely

I constantly analyzed what can I do to improve, and made a list of what to add to my “style” to be more unique

After a lot of studies of anatomy, it became more natural to draw forms from different perspectives without references

After watching a lot of cartoons, I started to understand more how characters were made, how they are turned and were drawn from different perspectives

My knowledge of anatomy and cartoons were fused together and I slowly started to create characters on my own

I studied great artists and tried to understand their way of thinking

I understood that skills are like muscles, it takes effort to get better and better and you can’t jump from one point to another, you have to go through struggles; in order to have muscles you have to make a lot of sit-ups a day, but if you don’t do them you can not expect to see visible changes

After all, I became a nerd for art!

Conclusion:

So if I had to start all over I would do the exact opposite of the first 4 mistakes that I did:

to understand DEEPLY that I am capable of doing anything, and I would “throw away” all the labels that I and others put on me

live in the present, and enjoying it; I would make sure that I don’t rush things

wouldn’t be afraid of mistakes; wouldn’t deny them, not in art; perhaps I would do a marathon day of drawing and trying to make as much mistakes as I can

I would somehow forbid myself to compare myself with others, I would find a way

With all that said, I don’t think art is an occupation, or a hobby. For me art is a lifestyle, where I absorb everything, I brainstorm, compare, analyze, compose and create things. This is how I process what I consume, this is how I process “reality”. Most of the things I said above, I am still doing them, because it’s natural for me. I find it fascinating that in art I can always learn. Someone once said, in order to be a professional you have to make 5000 artworks. I have around 2500 until now, so there’s still plenty to go.

I want to tell you that this is only my perspective, my personal experience, and this is what I’ve learnt through years, and how I got to where I am now, which is just a stage and I am working so I can go further and further.

If you just started doing art seriously, or you want to improve but can’t see visible changes yet and it’s frustrating and you are struggling - you should know that you are doing exactly the right thing. Because if you ask successful people they would all say that it was extremely difficult in the beginning, and it was a real struggle. The beauty of success and achieving things is that you have to fight for it and that is why you will value it tremendously. We have to go through the battles, fight the doubts down, defeat fear to gain real skills. The things that are hard to achieve are for stubborn people who really want to achieve them.

I truly believe everyone has talent and I wish you good luck, lot of patience, peace and finally great success on your journey of finding your style in art!

Lots of love, Jean

Follow me on these websites:

www.instagram.com/jeanbalogh

www.facebook.com/JeanBaloghIllustration

www.behance.net/gyongyibalogh

Buy my art:

https://www.etsy.com/shop/thecreativeblossom

If you have any questions or would love to work with me on a project, please feel free to send me a message on any of the accounts above! Thank you!

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blissfulmomentsevents-blog1 · 7 years

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Anxiety Disorder - How it Ruined My Life and How I Cope With it Now

I suffered severely from anxiety and depression for more than 30 years. It got worse during high school, and even worse later on, as if it were deliberately trying to make my life as miserable as possible. This is my story of great emotional pain, long years of isolation, misery and utter hopelessness and how I gradually found my way out of this dismal tunnel of despair and into the light of wisdom, joy and great relief.

Along with all the nagging problems one usually gets when growing up, the symptoms of panic disorder and not at first knowing what they were, devastated my days at school and ruined my concentration with schoolwork. I would come home completely exhausted, unable and frustrated to focus on such a thing, especially homework. I had a very limited life that is social no girlfriends. http://clashofclanscheats.us/ I suffered for what seemed like an eternity from social anxiety, loneliness, severe acne, mysterious weight loss, and crippling depression. I had an extreme dislike of most kinds of team sports and had a really hard time trying to fit in anywhere. From grade school to school that is high I suffered much hazing from others and much rejection and "unrequited love" from users associated with the opposite sex we felt attracted to, resulting in a vicious cycle of continued social anxiety, resentment of other's popularity and success, and my overwhelming feeling of rejection, isolation and alienation.

The suffering continued through university (where I studied nutrition, psychology, astronomy and especially art) and into my work years. I could only find jobs that had been simple and stress free such as gardening, handyman and painting type projects. I finally had a job taking care of an office building with a garden and fountain that required much continuous maintenance and support. I am still working there today.

Throughout the '70s, '80s and '90s, I tried in vain to find the reason behind my suffering through religions, doctors, psychiatrists, etc. only become severely disappointed by their "its all in your head" diagnosis! It seemed FAR worse than just "anxiety neurosis" or the later diagnosis of "anxiety disorder"! I couldn't believe it. I thought I either had to have heart disease, kidney failure, cancer, strokes, tumors, diabetes, lead poisoning, mercury, DDT, or any combination of the above! You name it, It felt like it was had by me! But, over and over all my tests revealed nothing substantial or really significant, no toxins, no poisons, nothing that made sense or was helpful.

I tried counseling, Christianity, Christian and Religious science, eastern religions, meditation, yoga, and positive thinking for many years, but still my problems only got worse. I started feeling more and more like a nutcase and a good candidate for insanity as more and more of my relatives and buddies gave me the "its all in your head so snap from the jawhorse" insult-to-injury "treatment." Nearly all of my acquaintances had no understanding or sympathy for my chronic problems me alone so they left. I spent most of my time very much alone and isolated. Being with people scared me so much I often had to run to an isolated, quiet room or area where no people were around. I could not fill any forms out or sign my name on my check or credit card receipt in public because I would shake too much. A number of my signatures looked absolutely bizarre and any forms filled out illegible. I went through hell just trying to fill out a job application that is simple.

Conversations would end abruptly I was going to say next and would have trouble remembering what the other person said because I kept losing track of what. I would have to stop in mid sentence, because I could not complete it, resulting in incredible embarrassment, another anxiety attack, and feeling like an idiot. This mental block would nearly always happen at the worst possible or critical moment such as when having to explain a very serious problem, during an emergency confrontation, or speaking in front of a group of people, resulting in an incredibly severe fear of public speaking and socializing of any kind. Whatever it was, when I needed it the many, I would have it the least!

I also had many symptoms that are physical that drove me crazy. My heart kept beats that are skipping and/or speeding up and keeping awake through the night (especially if on ANY kind of medication), making me think I was having a heart attack. We would usually have horrible nightmares then wake up terrified in a cold sweat and confusion that is total. I would not be able to sleep again until five in the morning. Then I would have to sleep all day to compensate for the nightly insomnia and to cope with the devastating stress, vertigo, and depression. I additionally felt a great sense of unworthiness, tiredness and fatigue that drove me nuts whenever I needed to get anything done. Expenses would accumulate, and I could never get ahead financially, no matter how hard I fought the overwhelming urge to sleep all the time, especially after eating. Greatly misunderstood, I had been considered by others as really lazy, under the influence (also though I NEVER took anything), and a poor achiever or so much "dead wood" as I was unable to support myself. Imagine all this happening while growing up and trying to find my own place in the world!!

After a few anxiety that is massive In 1982, I became almost permanently agoraphobic. In order to avoid terrible panic, We always had to stay within my local neighborhood or within the city limits. This problem was a disaster for dating, and so had to remain lonely. I became more and more angry and cynical about life as I grew older. I would often get so frustrated that I would lose my temper and break things. I must have thought of a hundred different ways to end my life, so desperate was I to stop the severe pain that is emotional but was too afraid to try anything. My life felt like an internal concentration camp or hell on earth. My weight that is severe loss to avoid foods I was "allergic" too even made me look like a concentration camp victim. Nothing I ate would put on weight anyway, it might just go right on through, causing gas that is severe bloating and diarrhoea. Nothing in my life went right, maybe not also my digestion!!!

Throughout this time (early 80's to very early 90's) I tried medications that are various as imipramine, xanax, tranxine, and buspar. They were expensive and only gave me very disruptive and side-effects that are embarrassing no benefits. In fact, It seemed every medication I tried only made my symptoms (depression, panic attacks, spaciness, memory lapses, vertigo, fatigue, and heart that is frightening) much worse, especially the imipramine, which I had to endure two separate trials for 6 weeks. I eventually became so frustrated and upset with medications, I permanently stopped taking them, especially with having to wait for so many weeks for them to "work" only to find they have the opposite effect! This is NOT to discourage other people who are trying medications, especially now that there are so many more available that act faster and have fewer side-effects.

Forced in my situation to try one thing different, I looked into such things as diet, herbs, and alternative medicine. I tried experimenting with diet for many years, but with only results that are limited sometimes even seemed to backfire like the drugs did. However, the total results were enough to convince me to look even further into the subject of nutritional therapy and to verify if such a thing did in fact exist. By the late 80's I had finally developed an "Atkins" type diet high in raw fruit/vegetable juices, cooked green vegetables, and complete proteins, such as fish, chicken and organ meats plus many herbal and nutritional vitamin supplements. This new diet actually seemed to keep my depression and anxiety under a certain amount of (intermittent) control! Because I knew there had to be something to it, I found even more foods that helped and was able to identify foods that did not as I continued throughout the '90s to "tinker" around with my diet. No longer was the notion this 1 could treat emotional problems with just diet a fantasy that is hopeful! It was real! This bit of encouragement spurred me on with even greater thoroughness, fanaticism and great zeal.

As time went on, the diets I found myself on where more and more vegetarian, with continuing improvement, but there was clearly still much room for more improvement. I started drinking loads of water between meals instead of snacking, which resulted in even more improvement that is encouraging. We realized snacking was in itself a cause of many food sensitivities, dental problems, and bad mental, emotional and real reactions that would not otherwise just take place if all food stuffs eaten in a day were grouped together in a single wholesome, complete meal, while the rest of the day is spent detoxifying on drinking water.

In 1994, I wrote a book about an yogic that is entire and lifestyle that's supposed to lead to bliss, enlightenment and wholeness. Naturally, I become extremely obsessed with my health and what I ate and how I ate for many, many years to come. I would often spend all day in libraries, behind books, etc. (and later the internet) doing intense research on diet, nutrition, and neurochemistry. People avoided me personally because diet was all I talked about and found it very difficult to get away from the subject. Careful and limited, scientifically guided eating was my saviour and only hope for existence without fear and crippling depression.

During the end of April, in the year 2000, I transitioned over to an "oval-vegetarian"100% raw food diet (including raw eggs, bee pollen, nuts, seed and spiralina, fruits, greens, vegetables, natural herbs, etc.) with even more improvement in my general health and well-being that is mental. I have ever since disliked the practice of cooking (destroying) good food, and eating meat and pasteurized/homogenized dairy products. I still felt anxious and agoraphobic, but everything seemed easier to manage and had much better luck with yoga and meditation. There is also a very significant "spiritual awakening" side to my story, which can be discovered at the beginning of my book now online.

In January of 2002, I decided to start a website which would serve as an information and research center to encourage the development and change of new ideas related to overcoming all the frustrations, diseases and other hazards of our condition that is human to overcoming all limitations and all forms of suffering. I am interested in alternative, natural, effective, wholesome ways to overcome anxiety, depression, the aging process and many other diseases. I have dedicated my life to the elimination of fear, depression, lack of knowledge, suffering, loneliness, pollution, overpopulation, etc. and to the study of certain controversial subjects such as: life after death, astral projection, breatharianism and many more. I am hoping it's going to be a house that is"light to a lot of browsing of or in need of help.

My next breakthrough that is big in with the discovery of negatively (charged) ionized (alkalized) "microwater" while searching on the internet for a good substitute for a powerful, but expensive antioxidant (Microhydrin) I was presently experimenting with. In the beginning of May, in the year 2002, I set up a water ionizer next to my kitchen sink and started drinking loads and loads of the most delicious water I ever tasted in my life, thinking this was going to help stop the aging process and help me feel a better that is little. It did actually do everything and more. I was fascinated in how this machine that is simple turn mere tap water into seemingly endless amounts of the most useful, valuable, healing, powerful, free-radical deactivating and purifying fluid I ever drank, actually replacing some of the food and antioxidants I used to need and therefore reducing my weekly organic and health food grocery bill by 50% or more. It enabled me to even fast for longer periods between meals, giving me even greater health and freedom from fear, depression and from not having to do all those tasks associated with food as well as its preparation as often. It was no problem whatsoever living on one meal a day, because with the ionized water, that was all I needed. I no longer had any more digestive or "allergic" problems and I gained some weight too for the time that is first my life!

Above all, negatively ionized water has actually reduced my anxiety, fatigue and depression quite significantly, to the point I no longer even feel it! There is a scientific explanation for this: when filtered water is charged with the negative side of a platinum-coated electrode (cathode) its pH (power of hydrogen) is increased usually from around a pH of 6.5 up to 9 or 10. Being "microwater" or water that clumps together in units of 5 molecules each instead of the usual 12 or so water molecules per cluster (as with regular water that is non-ionized it can hydrate living tissue much more completely, and dissolve and transport nutrients much more efficiently than any other as a type of water. It easily crosses the blood-brain barrier and acts as a buffer for metabolic by-products such as lactic acid which has been scientifically proven to be the most likely cause of common anxiety disorders. In other words, my brain was too acidic, and at first, the alkalinity naturally present in most raw foods helped to neutralize some of this acidity, creating some improvement. But this really alkaline, negatively ionized water, has really aided. The ionized water combined with my 100% super-food diet, special adaptogenic herbs, antioxidants, pure moral lifestyle, etc. all work together to turn my depression and anxiety into just pure bliss! All the symptoms that are physical such as rapid and skipping heartbeats, etc. I used to have, have completely disappeared.

The draw-back that is only having to drink massive amounts of it every day and there were still other aspects of my health and anxiety that kept coming back to haunt me. As wonderful as ionized water is and in spite of the the fact I continue to this day to use ionized water and never intend to stop utilizing it, there was still something more to be desired. In the past whenever it seemed to perhaps not work as well as it should, I would either put two ionizers together and double the amount of ionization and/or add a special powder with may in fact be the most powerful antioxidant ever invented, and sure enough, I would find it very satisfying. However, the first idea proved become somewhat awkward putting two units in line with one another because the total amount of water pressure needed seriously to run the second unit had been often greater than can be provided by the first, and the amounts of that special powder needed, at roughly $200 for 4 oz., was too difficult to maintain financially.

All this research finally lead me to another breakthrough that is great more fully understanding my condition and more direct treatments in 2008: The deep significance of alkalinity, that I realized that everything all along was trying to lead to more and more raw, alkaline-forming diet, antioxidants, stress reducing herbs, algae, and minerals. Apart from having to find treatment for other life-long complications such as pyroluria and exhaustion that is adrenal found the main underlying condition of all my nervousness had to be oversensitivity to acidic dietary and metabolic waste which all the antioxidants, ionized water and raw, alkaline forming foods I had been profiting from all along was neutralizing and alleviating. All of this knowledge and other research lead me to the conclusion that why not add vast amounts more alkaline-forming minerals such as the really dolomite that is inexpensive my ionized water and coral calcium to my raw food diet that's already part of my daily regimen? I tried this and found even more astounding results: for instance, the dolomite mixed in with my ionized water seemed to double, triple, even quadruple its beneficent effects exactly as if I had added the same amount of dolomite as Microhydrin, however dolomite, a very inexpensive, widely available, pure white mineral powder, is many, many times less expensive and provided much needed calcium and magnesium in the right proportions which are two of the same alkalizing electrolytes present in ionized water if I had not only run tap water through two ionizers, but also just as! The other three electrolytes are potassium, sodium, and chlorine. I will now be adding some potassium to this mixture along with a pinch of sea salt to complete the balance that is electrolyte see if any more improvements take place.

Every person's situation is unique, so I can't guarantee the same improvements I enjoy from a 100% super-food diet, herbs, supplements, alkaline minerals, and antioxidant water, etc. Also, my story and physiological explanations for my recovery are much more complicated than what I can write down within the space that is limited am allowed here. Just what we know for sure, however, is it is possible to benefit tremendously from ionized water, super-food diets, and uncooked, mainly alkaline-forming, whole vegetarian food with an adequate source of complete protein. I have found in my experience, correct therapy that is nutritional essential to healing regardless of what condition one may be suffering from.

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Russell Symonds (Shaktivirya) has dedicated his life to finding wholeness and is living the "wholeness" lifestyle. His website, Science of Wholeness is a spiritual and nutritional information and research center dedicated to helping you find your keys to wholeness (everlasting joy, love, bliss, rejuvenation, and much, much more). Wholeness can be things that are many his website not only discusses all the different aspects of wholeness but also all the different ways toward wholeness. There is no greater thing of beauty, joy and value as wholeness!

The sleep of his original articles and his free book that is online Science of Wholeness I & II can be discovered here:

Read More Articles about Anxiety Disorder - How it Ruined My Life and How I Cope With it Now on my blog http://blissfulmomentsevents.tumblr.com/

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