#And the other person hast to listen to my nonsense in so sorry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mxvladdy · 3 years

Note

Ey, could you make food source reactions for Mammon & Levi like you did with the others?

I've read it like 3 times now, they're all so sweet and believable you did a great job!

You got it Fam! Glad you like them so much lol. (I got a lot more angsty with Mammon than I thought I would but I love him sooooo)

Mammon

This poor man. He gets to spend so little time alone with you. He has to make every second count. Between the hustling, modeling, and running from Lucifer, he’s a pretty busy guy.

So he plans date nights. Just you, him, and his leather couch. Ya ain’t goin’ nowhere, ya hear? He looks forward to this every month. He pins it on his calendar too just so he doesn’t double book himself.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Just cause he plans this doesn’t mean he necessarily has a plan. Not that you care. Most of his activities turn into trouble anyway, even when he is not trying.

Sometimes he teaches you how to play cards (also shows you human ways to cheat-just in case you need it). The hours are spent pleasantly sitting in his lap while he teaches you how to count cards.

But, most nights, he just wants to talk. He enjoys his time with you. You and him cuddling and chatting away the hours before passing out for the night.

He has a lot of things he wants to know about you. To him, he feels like if he knows you better than the other brothers he’s won.

Won what? Idk, your affection? Approval? He already has it, but he is insecure about his place in your heart regardless.

This evening starts out like any other. Mammon dashing to the kitchens to pilfer some snacks and drinks before Beel can steal them all, and you bring your cute self over to his room.

You two toss back a few drinks and spend some time looking over his latest photo shoots before going on to the main event. Tonight you brought one of your favorite human card games. It was like 20 questions, but some questions were more risque than others. Was it meant for more than two players? Yes, but whatever- Mammon wants to play it so you are.

You both are relaxed and drowsy by the time you start playing. Your stomachs are full of junk, and the morning moons are just on the horizon. It’s the perfect mixture for loose lips and secrets, before falling asleep in each other's arms.

You pick easy cards first, jumping from silly innocent questions to one that made him blush from ear to ear. The hours pass quickly and Mammon’s answers become more slurred and accented as he tires out.

He was on the verge of sleep when you ask, “What’s your favorite dish?”

It was a slip of the tongue, a long-lost memory pulled up from the dregs of his exhausted mind. He remembers a savory dish Barbatos use to make way back when. He can still smell the savory smoky spices mixing with the fresh vegetables and meat- Oh shit.

He feels you stiffen and he ain’t sleepy anymore, that’s for sure. Immediately up and apologizes. He stumbles over himself in his haste to explain himself.

You spend the rest of the evening with him in your arms trying to comfort him as he tearfully swears he hasn’t eaten a person in a couple of hundred years.

Mini Fic

He regrets it the moment the words slip out. His sleepy remark hangs out in the chilly air of his room. He feels you jerk in his arms as if punched. “Shit! I-I didn’t mean.” Mouth agape, he backtracks, tongue working faster than his overtaxed brain. He looks down at your head on his chest.

Your eyes are wide. Their surprise reflected in the bright blue moonlight. His heart sinks to his stomach. Gods, he ruined it. “I’m sorry- I.” Pushing you off of his chest he goes to grab his shirt and redress, ignoring the prickling heat growing at the corner of his eyes. He could sleep somewhere else tonight. You could have the room if you wanted, or at least give you a minute to flee in terror from the demon that masqueraded as your friend. He can’t look at you. Hells, he was too ashamed to even glance in your direction. What kind of idiot let’s slip that? They even had a council meeting about this very thing before you arrived.

So lost in his panic he doesn’t notice you trying to get his attention. It wasn’t until you forcefully grab his arm did he hear you. “It’s ok Mammon.” You engulf him in your warm and comforting scent. Strong arms dragging him back to the crumpled sheets of his bed. Your soft fingers wipe at the silent tears streaking down his cheeks.

He dislodges himself from your light grasp to rub at his own eyes. “How can ya’ say that?” Where was your sense of self-preservation? Ain’t humans supposed to be aware of such dangers? The irony wasn’t lost on him though. Being your ‘protector’ and all.

You shuffle closer, hellbent on comforting. His pack mark hums gently on his chest when you touch it. As much as his body wanted to run, your pact mark cemented him to his seat. He sits while you fuss over him slowly breathing through his mouth to calm his racing heart. He can’t help but drift closer to you when he feels your hand on the top of his head. When had he become so weak for you?

“Well-How can I not?” You shrug. He closes his eyes when you start ruffling his fringe. “You’ve been nothing but sweet to me. Yes, you have,” You cut him off firmly before he can object. “Always my number one anyway.” That pulls a wet chuckle from your demon. His eyes clear up at your admission. “I trust you Mammon, honestly. I mean, I kinda knew that you’ve probably eaten a human or two in your life. Knowing, and knowing are more different than I thought.”

Mammon cages you in his arms, his nose brushing along your neck and jawline. “Damn-.” He huffs covering you in his warm body, arms tight around your sides. “I’m sorry. I ruined tonight.” Mammon sighs into your skin.

You hug him back. “Nonsense, if you want to get technical I think you won this game. I can’t top that answer.” You push away with a wide yawn. “Now can we go back to bed?” With a nod, he flops over pulling you down with him. You bully your way into his arms again. Sighing constantly you snuggle in for the night, ready to drift off. His eyelids began to feel heavy again too. Your soft weight on him like a security blanket. He listens to your slowly beating heart, matching his breathing to yours. The rhythmic thumps working to calm him better than his noise machine. He basks in your presence, rubbing his broad hand down your back for a moment before you speak again.

“Hey, Mammon.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think I would taste good?”

Leviathan

Awkward boy. Of course, he has had his fair share of humans. Not particularly his favorite through. A lot of the time it wasn’t on purpose. His demon form is big and sometimes more than just fish and other demons get swallowed up. Course when that happened, they weren’t exactly fresh either. Bleh-just thinking about it makes his stomach turn.

No, he never got a taste for it, even when it was served in the royal palace. The memories of the sea are still pretty vivid. It never really crosses his mind anymore. Till you bring it up.

He invites you over for a game night. A new VR game he had been saving up for just dropped and he had to play it with you.

It was a horror stealth game. Heavy on critical thinking and solving puzzles in real-time.

Your two characters were on a race against time against a flesh eating cult that had invaded a small village. He thought it was a fun concept and you both liked horror games. He didn’t notice how quiet you had gotten until you had set your controller down.

You ask during a loading screen after a pretty graphic cut scene of a npc getting caught. How realistic was that cut scene? Had he ever eaten a human before?

Boy is a brighter pink than Ruri-chan’s signature outfit (and twice as cute lbr)

He gets so flustered that he misses the start of the next round and gets you both eaten.

He doesn’t take conflict well. Like at all. He much rather slink off into his fish tank and hide than answer you. In fact, that sounds like an excellent idea.

He slithers back out of his tank hours later thinking you had left or found a better brother to hang out with. Yucky people eaters like him aren’t good company for humans.

You jump him the minute his feet are back on solid ground. Have an answer now you must! Yrssss.

Mini Fic

“L-Let go!” Levi shrieks, caught in your sneak attack. He locks up when you jump him, all four of your limbs wrapping around his soaking body like an octopus.

“No!” You squeeze him harder taking full advantage of the fact that he won’t remove you himself. You feel the heat of his blush through his soaked clothes as you cling closer. If he could blush any harder you were pretty sure steam would be wafting off of him.

“Why do you want to know anyway?” He wiggles gently, trying to loosen your tight grip.

“Morbid curiosity.” Well, at least you were honest. He was still going to say no, you didn’t need to know that about him. He opens his mouth to shut you down but makes the mistake of looking at you. The words die when he catches the pout growing on your face. Oh no- his one weakness. Your way your lower lip pops out adorably, accompanied by slightly puffed-out cheeks. It was a one-two punch to his defenses.

“I-they weren’t on purpose.” He pleads. Nevermore in his life did he wish he could turn into a mist-like his brother. He feels you slip off of him. Your bare feet don’t make a sound on his carpeted floor. “It just happened sometimes.” He admits. You accept it for a few seconds before his words fully hit you.

“Wait? How do you accidentally eat someone?” You ask incredulously. “All though- that’s something Beel might do.” You ponder the logistics and step back to give him some space.

He rights himself, wicking the moisture from his coat and pants with magic until he is completely dry again. You start asking a dozen more questions in rapid fire. It was enough to make his head spin. You were too curious for your own good. “Ever heard of basking whales?”

You blink.

Levi sighs and waves a hand to himself. “When I lived in the ocean… I’m big ya know. I kinda would just open my mouth and swallow. Whatever I caught I ate.” He waits for you to get the jest. Most of the time it was smaller fish and aquatic mammals. When a demon encroached on his territory he would eat them too. The dead were meant for his army, but sometimes they got sucked into.

Instead of nodding in understatement, you cover your mouth with the palm of your hand and snort. His eyes grow big and his blush turns brighter. You were spending way too much time with Asmo. “No-Not like that!” His flailing only makes you laugh harder. Great, as if he didn’t want to die of embarrassment already.

“Well word it better, nerd.” You laugh retreating back to the mound of pillows you claimed for gaming, VR headset in hand. “Come on, we have to start over now- thanks to someone.”

“You started it!” Levi shoots back grabbing up his gear as well. He fiddles with it for a moment before glancing back at you. You were oblivious to inner turmoil over this admission. A naval admiral was one thing. Humans had them too, that wasn’t too much for you to comprehend. Being a devil was easy enough to understand too, at least in his mind. But eating people? Shouldn’t you be more concerned? “So-that’s it?”

You look up questioningly. “What’s it?”

He raises a purple brow. “You have nothing else to say? I just admitted to eating people!”

“Not really.” You shrug. “I can’t get too pressed about it. It’s not like you are human. I’m like what-at the bottom of the food chain to you, right?” Levi nods. “See! So no point stressing over it. ‘Sides, you haven’t munched on me yet.” You turn your attention back to the screen, flicking your controller to wake his flat-screen back up. “Unless~” He gulps at the sly eyebrow wiggle you throw at him, the shit eating grin that accompanied it only made him worry. “Perhaps you just have an appetite for seamen.”

Your peals of laughter mix with his shrill yelps of objection, as he tackles you. His previous worries were completely forgotten by your teasing.

#obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan

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thekidultlife · 3 years

Text

Plot: After an unexpected encounter with Yoon Jeonghan during a baby shower, more memories unfold from your mind, and his.

Genre: slice of life, angst

Pairing: Jeonghan + fem!reader + Mingyu

Warnings: a bit of explicit language

A/N: Many thanks to my incredibly amazing beta reader, @secndlife, for helping me make this beautiful! Also, I would like to express my gratitude to @xuseokgyu for taking the time to make lovely banners and even a teaser for this series! You are both a joy to work with and I am so blessed to have you both help me. 🧡 Lastly, to our followers and readers who are continually supporting this blog despite its inactivity, thank you! More details about my future works will be addressed after this fic.

Taglist: @haotheheckk, @jeonjungkaka, @soonhoonsol, @fluffyhyeju, @minkwans

“If you love me like you tell me, please be careful with my heart. you can take it, just don’t break it — or my world will fall apart.”

🍁🎧🧡

The cobbled pavements of the narrow alley you were walking on were damp from the rain that had recently poured. It was chipped and uneven in some places, and your thin-strapped sandals would sometimes slip and get stuck between the cobblestones. Despite the imperfections of this street, you had come to love it, just like every other self-respecting college student living around the vicinity. Behind you, the signage of restaurants and thrift stores flashed in bright neon blues and violets, blending with the honey-golden glow of the lights coming from the shops and apartment buildings that rose around you.

This alley was the most beautiful place to go to in the city.

It was a beautiful Saturday night, too, and in your opinion, you had spent it well.

You were walking back to the dorms with your friends and a couple of seniors. You were in the back of the group, where it was quieter. Clutching your arm was Jung Mirae, one of your roommates, who was struggling to walk straight after too many beers.

In the process of half-dragging Mirae, an alarm from your phone rang. You hasted to get it switched off.

Bright laughter pierced the stillness as the ones just a few steps ahead of you, Park Hyewon and Lee Joonyoung, your best friends besides Mirae, kept on cracking jokes that would make the whole group roar with laughter. You giggled at their ridiculousness occasionally while trying to keep Mirae on her feet.

Hangout nights are incomplete without these two, you thought to yourself, as you studied long-legged, pink-haired Hyewon and the tall, broad-shouldered Joonyoung. You watched as they made mean comments at each other and then made up for the teasing by giving each other kisses.

“Gross!” someone called out from behind you, and you could not help but smile.

Joonyoung turned around and playfully gave the finger to the person who had shouted out. "Go get yourself a girlfriend, Sunwoo! It's clear to me that you’re in need of love.”

The group snickered at Joonyoung's words.

As you listened to everyone talk about how good the night was and how hellish the next week would be with final exams coming up, you felt cold fingers touch your cheek.

You turned to Mirae, who was looking up at you with quizzical—albeit drunken—eyes.

“Hey, Y/N." Mirae’s voice was loud and clear in the narrow alley. You brushed her hand away gently. "Why are you crying?”

“What do you mean?” You put a hand over her mouth and tried to tell her to stop spouting off nonsense, but it was then that you felt it—the wet trickle of tears on your face. Surprised, you wiped them away with your hand.

It was true.

You were crying.

The walking paused. Footsteps ceased over the cobbled pavement as everyone halted to look over at you. Your cheeks reddened at the unwanted attention.

“Y/N, is something wrong? Here, let me have Mirae.” One of your classmates reached out to take Mirae.

“Thank you.” I think I drank too much, you despaired, as you kept wiping at your face and waving people away. You made attempts to control your emotions, but nothing could stop the tears from coursing down your cheeks.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you kept saying over and over with a hoarse voice that almost didn’t sound like you. “Keep walking, please! Don’t mind me. I think I just drank too much.” You gave a shaky laugh and rubbed your eyes. “I get like this sometimes. Sorry.”

“You did not drink too much tonight, though,” someone commented dubiously. The others agreed and continued to look at you with confused expressions. "You never do."

“Jin-ah is right. And you don’t ‘get like this sometimes,’ babe.” Just a few feet away from you and leaning against Joonyoung, Hyewon crossed her arms. Her face, full of concern over your sudden outburst of emotions, made her look as though she hadn’t spent the night drinking as much as the guys did. “What's wrong?”

“I really don’t know, to be honest.” You pushed a strand of hair away from your face and made a poor attempt to smile at Hyewon. "I think it’s just the beer. Really."

Hyewon looked like she didn’t want to stop questioning you.

Please don’t ask me anything more, you begged with your eyes.

Joonyoung nudged Hyewon casually.

"Okay." Hyewon shrugged as she reluctantly conceded to your lame answers. She walked up to you, linked her arm with yours, and turned to grin at the others placatingly. “Let’s go home for real, gang! I think my girlfriend here just needs to sleep.”

Everyone nodded, put on happy faces, and eagerly put the awkward scene behind them. They once again started with the jokes and laughter and even managed to loop you into their silly conversations. However, their eyes avoided you most of the time, and their jokes were careful. You sensed that nobody wanted to have any part in pulling any triggers you might have. Tonight was no time to be sad. With finals coming up, no one needed any sort of emotional baggage. You felt bad for making them cautious, but you were also grateful for their thoughtfulness about your feelings.

The happy atmosphere became short-lived, though, as five minutes later, a sound cut through the alley and through the facades that everyone was putting up for your sake. It made all of them stop in their tracks once more. Even Hyewon stiffened beside you.

The sound perfectly explained everything that was going on with you, and there was no hiding it now.

Your alarm was playing again.

“Oh, fuck.” Hyewon let out a huge breath and squeezed her eyes shut. She looked as though she was trying to block out the sound. “Y/N, for goodness’ sake, don’t be an idiot. Don’t listen to it. Turn it off—”

But of course, like an idiot, you listened.

“Hey there. If you find yourself listening to this, then it means we have made it to Year 3. Please meet me at the same place where we are tonight: the art pier, one hour before the day ends. I'll be the stupid-looking guy standing by the yacht statue while holding too many roses. I love you. Happy Anniversary!"

This alarm shouldn’t be ringing—because you didn’t make it to Year 3.

“Please turn it off.”

Joonyoung, who was right behind you, reached for your bag, rummaged inside, and pulled out your phone. Glaring at the screen, he shut it off and dropped the phone in the bag again.

The alleyway was silent for a while.

Hyewon sighed. And then she leaned against you and said softly, “Let’s go home.”

The cobbled pavements of the narrow alley you were still walking on were damp from the rain that had recently poured. Hands would steady you from behind when your thin-strapped sandals would slip and get stuck between the loose cobblestones. No one drunk should walk on this alley with its imperfect pavements, but you had come to love it, just like every other self-respecting college student living around the vicinity. As you passed, the signage of restaurants and thrift stores flashed in bright neon blues and violets before melting into the ever-constant amber colors of the street lights.

This alley was the most beautiful place to go to in this city.

It was a beautiful Saturday night, too, and in your opinion, you had spent it well. But you weren’t supposed to spend this night here. Not in this place, despite its beauty, no.

You were supposed to be somewhere else.

You were supposed to be with someone else.

“I know that everybody here is trying to be nice, but let me say it for all of you here, so you don’t have to wonder how it sounds.” Joonyoung kicked a crumpled beer can out of his way as he walked. “Fuck Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Oh, please, Lee Joonyoung.” Hyewon sounded tired. “Thank you for making Y/N more miserable.”

“What do you mean? Bubs, I’m not the douchebag who—ah, whatever.” Joonyoung shrugged and flung middle fingers up the sky. “Wherever you are, Yoon Jeonghan, fuck you!”

“He’s completely drunk,” Hyewon said apologetically, looking around her; some of the campus seniors with you were friends of Jeonghan’s. “Sorry.” And then, looking at Joonyoung exasperatedly, she hissed, “Joonyoung. Cut it out.”

“Let him be,” you said in a drained voice, “let him be.”

You were supposed to be with Yoon Jeonghan tonight, but you weren’t. He was long gone, and all you have left of him was something that you had somehow forgotten to remove, something you wished so desperately to forget.

All you have left of him was his voice—frozen in time through that alarm.

The rest was memories and history.

🍁🎧🧡

Mingyu sips from a coffee mug and nods in understanding as you finish speaking. He leans back on one of the steps of the townhouse, where you both sit. Cars drive down your neighborhood street, their headlights coloring the concrete road with hazy white and yellow lights. You watch their signals blink as they find spaces to park. Leaves continue to fall, and some end up in your hair. You feel Mingyu brush them away. You smile and do the same for him.

It is way past midnight, and here you both sit, snuggling to keep warm against the cold night air and talking about a love long gone.

“So,” Mingyu traces the rim of his coffee cup as he puts the pieces together, “you and Jeonghan-hyung dated during uni days?”

You nod. “Mm-hmm. We dated for two years. And then we broke up during my junior year, which was when that alley story happened.” You look at your boyfriend in mock suspicion. “Not that I’m complaining, but are you sure you want to listen to this story? Because we don’t need to talk about this if you aren’t comfortable—”

“—No, no, baby, I’m okay!” Mingyu chuckles a little bit as he turns to you. “I’m perfectly fine. I really want to know. If you’re not comfortable talking about it, though, we could just put it behind us.” He smiles at you. “I’m okay either way.”

He had stepped onto a minefield of your past without warning. He’s not supposed to be okay either way. You keep staring at him, not believing what he said.

“But, babe…” You sigh as you look at him. “Instead of talking about how Jeonghan and I ended up dating years ago, why don’t we talk about other things first?” You keep searching his face for any sign of uneasiness, any sign of hurt or confusion. “Like, how you felt when you found out. Or, how to avoid getting ambushed by stuff like this in the future.” You lean against him. “I don’t want something like this to happen again, no matter how great we both are at handling surprises. I think this is a good time to talk about things we haven’t talked about yet. Exes, our most embarrassing moments—” you giggle as Mingyu laughs at your last words. “Hey, I’m serious here!”

Your mind recalls the events of the night. You remember twirling in front of your full-length mirror to admire your new dress. You remember how perfect Mingyu had looked when he stepped out of his car and walked up to you. You remember the car ride, the conversation that you had about meeting his family and kissing underneath the porchlight of Aera’s house. You remember the baby shower: meeting Mingyu’s parents, Kim Aera, and Mingyu’s other friends. You remember how happy and secure you felt with Mingyu beside you as he introduced you to his family and some high-profile friends. You remember the crib and the games.

You remember Choi Seungcheol’s surprised expression and shaking Yoon Jeonghan’s hand for the first time in years. You remember Kwon Soonyoung’s drunken announcement.

“So, the former flames have finally met!”

“Well, I guess I got surprised when I found out that you guys used to date,” Mingyu clarifies, “but if we will talk about whether I had strong, negative feelings about the whole thing...” his voice trails off as he looks at you.

“...Uh-huh?” you prod.

Mingyu shakes his head. “I didn’t have any.” He squeezes your hand reassuringly. “You don’t have to worry about me. To be honest, what surprised me the most was the fact that I handled the situation pretty well. Back when we were still at Aera’s house, I really did my best to be careful with how I took in the whole thing. I took care not to show how surprised I was with my expressions, my words...”

“Mm-hmm.” You nod along with him as his voice trails off. “Yes. I agree. You handled it pretty well. But I am still so sorry for dropping that bomb on you that way.” You look up at him with an apologetic expression. “We haven’t really talked about past relationships that much yet, so...”

“Y/N, please don’t overthink.” His face hovers inches away from yours as he looks deep into your eyes. “See?” He makes all sorts of cute expressions, and you couldn’t help but smile. “I’m okay.”

You become willing to believe him, but then you catch him looking at you with a twinkle in his eye.

“Although,” Mingyu adds, “I did feel a bit self-conscious.” He sighs dramatically, and he pouts—adorably. “I mean, he’s the Yoon Jeonghan. You dated the Yoon Jeonghan that most girls nowadays are swooning over. Who am I compared to that?”

As he continues to make such cute faces while saying the most outrageous things, you stare at him, open-mouthed. “What the hell.” You had seen through his joke, of course, but you could not help but look at him incredulously. “Is my boyfriend actually saying this to me right now while looking so drop-dead gorgeous beside me? Is he really comparing himself right now to someone else?”

Mingyu ignores your words and continues. “Yoon Jeonghan, actor extraordinaire, ranking twentieth at this year’s Asia’s Sexiest 100. Hmm. Yes.” He considers his words and nods. “I did feel intimidated. He’s good-looking and is amazing at acting and—”

“—Whoa, whoa, whoa.” You put your mug down beside you, and you giggle as you take Mingyu’s face in your hands. “You are one gorgeous person, too, and I am so, so in love with you. Stop comparing yourself to him.” You nuzzle his face, smiling. “I know you’re just joking about this, but please. Stop.”

He continues to look at you with a playful pout, but his eyes turn darker voice drops a notch lower. “Make me.”

You feel him grin against your lips as you make him stop speaking.

At the back of your head, you remember Kim Aera’s words when she talked about her husband.

“Not all women are as fortunate as I am, you know? Some of us meet such crappy guys that it’s a miracle I ended up finding someone worth the wedding vows.”

You aren’t one to believe in fortunes, so you try to think about all the things you must have done right to deserve a man such as Kim Mingyu. More importantly, you wonder if you would be able to keep him by your side.

Too much thinking, too much thinking, you chastise yourself as you kiss Mingyu harder, wanting to erase everything from your mind.

“I love you,” you say after a while.

“I love you, too. But where were we with your story?” Mingyu lets go of you and takes his mug once more. Leaves still fall from the trees. The streetlights glow brighter as midnight darkens. A green sedan stops directly across you both, and you watch as a man staggers out of the driver’s side.

“Well, if you really want to hear all about it, it would take us all night.” You look up at him with an enticing, hopeful smile. “Do you want to stay the night here? Hyewon and Joonyoung would be thrilled to have you. We can do storytime together with them.” You shake your head. “I still haven’t said a word to them about meeting Jeonghan again because we only went upstairs to get coffee. Hyewon will get a kick out of this.”

Mingyu laughs softly. “I can imagine.” He kisses your forehead before taking your hand. “Let’s head back inside.”

No more cars drive down your neighborhood street. No more hazy yellow and white headlights color the dark concrete road. Mingyu takes your hand and pulls you up from the steps. You feel him brush away some leaves from your hair once more. You look up at him appreciatively, and you do the same for him. Across the street, a glaring woman opens the front door for the drunken man from the green sedan.

You retreat indoors for the night. You think about how to tell Mingyu everything. And when Hyewon opens the door to greet you both, you wonder if she and Joonyoung would help you get the facts right about how you and Jeonghan started and how you and Jeonghan eventually ended.

With all these thoughts in your head, you faintly hear your phone ring in your purse. Getting a sense of déjà vu from the story that you had told Mingyu earlier, you feel chills run up and down your spine as you pull your phone out.

“Who’s your midnight caller, girlfriend?” Hyewon goodnaturedly teases as she takes your empty mug from your hand. Her face looks flushed, and you remember that she and Joonyoung had been drinking when you left them earlier. “Joonyoung! Mingyu’s here!”

“I have a confession to make,” you say as you look at the caller ID. “Mingyu and I ran into Jeonghan and Seungcheol at his cousin’s baby shower.”

Hyewon’s face pales at your words. “You what?”

“We did,” Mingyu says softly, scratching his head while smiling at Hyewon. “He’s a good hyung of mine and Aera’s in the industry. We’ve been friends for a long time, but I didn’t know that he and Y/N used to date.”

“Huh,” Hyewon breathes out. “All these years, the only way we could see him was on TV. We never ran across him, ever. And now we find out that he’s good friends with your boyfriend’s family.” Hyewon raises her eyebrows and shakes her head. “Imagine that.”

“You met Jeonghan?” Joonyoung bounds into the foyer, which suddenly becomes crowded with the four of you there. “Was he with anyone else?”

“Just him and Seungcheol-hyung,” Mingyu answers.

“Let’s not talk about this here. Come on in, you two. We still have some pizza, chicken, and beer.” Hyewon manages to push the two guys into the living room. She turns to you, clearly wanting to talk to you in private, but you put up a hand.

“Hold on.” Your phone is vibrating in your hand, and you hastily answer the call. “Hello?”

🍁🎧🧡

He leans on the railings of the rooftop bar, a drink in one hand and a phone in the other. As he gazes at the city below, he knows that he has had too much to drink. The lights have started to pulse too much. The numbness inside him has finally reached his fingertips. He considers stopping to drink this last glass, but his call finally goes through.

At the sound of the voice on the other line, he decides that he needs this one last shot of bourbon.

“I know that it’s too late to call you now,” he whispers almost inaudibly, “but if I don’t say this tonight, I probably never will.”

He lets go of the empty glass in his hand, and he watches as it shatters on the ground.

“I miss you,” he says, oblivious of the curses and complaints from the people around him. “And I know that you’re in a happy place now, but I—” A painful pause ensues as he stands there, lost for words. Shifting his weight from one foot to another, he tries to ignore the ache in his throat and the burning in his eyes. “—I just wanted you to know that. Everything about this call feels wrong because I know that I am not supposed to and that I have no right to call you anymore, but I will never stop wondering how these words sound like if I don’t say it right now.” A tortured grin spreads across his lips. “I miss you.”

The phone falls out of his hands, and he blindly falls to the ground to pick it up. Sharp fragments from the broken glass cut through his skin and the material of his pants, but he doesn’t feel the pain. He is too numb right now. He couldn’t even feel his legs. As he futilely tries to smoothen the cracked screen on his phone, he hears a loud voice coming from a megaphone.

“And cut!” The director’s voice rings loud and clear throughout the rooftop bar. He walks over to Jeonghan, who is still trying to bring his phone back to life. “Okay, did I suddenly step into some shitty romance movie after the break? What was all that?” The director impatiently turns around and gestures to the crew behind him. “I need a medical kit here; and another phone, please. Geez. What has gotten into you tonight?”

“Sorry,” Jeonghan says apologetically. “I just got too immersed with my role.” He shakily stands up. “And I can’t feel my legs.”

The director shakes his head. “Look, Jeonghan, I know that you love ad-libs. I love your ad-libs, too. You know that. But your last lines threw me off.” He squints his eyes suspiciously at Jeonghan. “Where did you go tonight? You were fine the whole day, and then you suddenly get picked up by your friend. The minute you come back to work, you’re a different person.” He shakes his head again and walks away. “Read the script and pull yourself together. We’ll be taking a short break. And apologize to your co-star for spouting out all that mushy stuff!”

“What was that about?” Seungcheol has appeared from out of nowhere, arms crossed. “Why were you telling Jihoon that you missed him?”

Jeonghan laughs. He gestures weakly with his hand as he answers, “It’s the bourbon.”

“Who on earth actually drinks half a dozen shots while filming?” Seungcheol pauses as he studies Jeonghan’s face. “And why are you crying?”

“I’m not.” Jeonghan wipes away something wet from his face. “Stop bitching, Cheol, and just help me sit down somewhere.”

“Oh, Yoon Jeonghan.” Seungcheol sighs as guides Jeonghan to the nearest steel chair. “You said you would be able to come back to work after the baby shower! God, I was an idiot for believing you.”

“This is not about the baby shower,” Jeonghan protests weakly as he leans back against the chair. “Leave me alone and let me rest. Please.” He closes his eyes.

“So," Seungcheol fishes around for words, "what was that about?"

Jeonghan doesn’t answer.

Seungcheol sighs again. “Was she the one you were ‘talking to’ in that phone call?”

Silence.

“Jeonghan—”

“—She looked happy.” Jeonghan’s voice is calm, but tears still escape his closed eyes. He leans to the side as though he wanted to sleep. “They looked happy. And when I saw them kiss by the front porch when we got to Aera’s, I felt funny." He grins. "I felt funny because a part of me got hurt—” He pounds his chest. “—Right here.” His grin widens. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just like this because I haven't seen her for a long time."

The rooftop bar is buzzing with activity: the director is making changes with the camera angles, someone is adjusting the brightness of the floodlights, and the extras are practicing the not-so-easy art of blending in with the scene. Jeonghan hears someone sweep the broken glass from the tiled floor.

“Mingyu is a good guy,” Seungcheol offers sympathetically. “At least we can both be sure that she will be alright.”

“Mm-hmm.” Jeonghan continues pounding his chest with his bandaged hand. “I know.”

“You are my first romance, and I’m willing to take a chance that till life is through, I’d still be loving you.”

🍁🎧🧡

The cobbled pavements of the narrow alley that he is walking on are still the same. It feels damp, even though no rain had poured that night. It is still chipped and uneven in some places, and he remembers how your thin-strapped sandals would sometimes slip and get stuck between the cobblestones. Despite the imperfections of this street, he knows that you loved it. But while you had loved this place for its bright lights and broken cobblestones, he had loved it for what it contained: the restaurants and thrift stores, all of which still had signs that flash in bright neon blues and violets.

And he loved them because of the memories he had created inside them—memories that he had made with you.

He vividly remembers the first plate of spaghetti that you shared at Georgie’s, a quaint restaurant that would have been considered Italian but for the sweet spaghetti sauce that it serves. He has not forgotten the taste because he still goes there on Thursdays. And he has never forgotten the way you had laughed while eating spaghetti as he confessed that he wanted to date you.

“You have no idea how ridiculous that sounds coming out of your mouth,” you had said while pushing away your plate. Your eyes had been gleaming with humor then, but your voice had been guarded and careful. “To put it simply, sunbae, I am not going to date you.” You had shrugged, and locks of your hair had tumbled across that denim jacket that he had loved seeing on you. “You know why.”

He had known then.

You had never fallen in love before. That knowledge should have made him cautious, but he admits to himself now that it had made him all the more desperate to snag that spot in your heart marked, “First Love.”

It was at Georgie’s that you had first rejected him, but it was there that you also said yes to him a few months later. Twirling pasta in your plate, you had murmured, “Okay. Let’s date. But Yoon Jeonghan—” Your voice had shaken. And then you had looked at him.

“Please be careful with my heart.”

He had answered that with your first kiss.

At signless thrift stores that are scattered a few stalls away from each other, Jeonghan remembers patiently waiting for you as you picked clothes for him and art supplies for yourself. He remembers how you would stand to the side to let Hyewon and Mirae haggle with the storekeeper. He remembers your apologetic expression when you felt like Hyewon or Mirae had taken the bargaining too far. He smiles as he remembers how embarrassed you would be during those times.

And then he smiles wider as he remembers Hyewon’s sharp fingernails that had dug on his shoulder when she pulled him aside during the first time he tagged along for the shopping. He chuckles as he remembers how menacing she had looked.

“If dating my goody-two-shoes Y/N is payback because I broke your best friend’s heart a few years ago,” Hyewon warns darkly, “then you’d better know that I’ll be coming for you. And I have no qualms whatsoever about tearing you to shreds. You got that?” She had dug her nails deeper at that point.

“I don’t care what history you had with my best friend,” he had answered calmly. “I am dating Y/N because I love her. That’s all there is. You’re reading way too much into this, Park Hyewon.”

“Am I?” Hyewon had scoffed, clearly unconvinced. “Yoon Jeonghan, why are you dating Y/N? The real reason, please."

"I love her," he repeated. "That's all."

"No. That's not it. I refuse to believe that’s your reason. And we both know here that you can’t fool me with that crap.” She had let go of him then, but not before throwing out a few more words that sounded like a prophecy. Throwing up her hands in the air and rolling her eyes, she had said, “I’m calling it: you’ll only break Y/N's heart.”

Funny how Hyewon turned out to be right.

“This alley is the most beautiful place to go to in the city, isn’t it?”

At that moment, Jeonghan stops in his tracks. He stops reminiscing.

He whirls around, his eyes wide and almost sober, searching for the owner of that voice. His heartbeats quicken. He clenches his jaw as another knife of pain stabs through him at those words.

You used to say the same thing to him. You used to say those words while holding his hand or whenever he would kiss you unannounced while you walked this street. You used to say those words while looking up at him. He would never get lost anywhere in the world, but he used to get lost in your eyes when you did so.

He squints his eyes, certain that it had been you who had spoken. But as his vision focuses on the owner of the voice, he feels his heart sink inside him.

Of course, it wasn’t you. Jeonghan laughs at himself and his stupidity.

It wasn’t you. It was some stupid co-ed echoing the words that any college student would say about this street. It wasn’t you because you were long gone from him now, and he had nothing left of you but all these memories that still plague him in this fucking alleyway.

It wasn’t you because Jeonghan had done what Hyewon had said that he would do.

A hand grabs his arm. “Let’s go, Yoon Jeonghan. You shouldn’t be here.”

Jeonghan recognizes Seungcheol’s voice. He grins at his friend’s frustrated face as he trips on a stupid loose cobblestone. “Hello, there. Why do you keep appearing out of nowhere? And did you also think of Hyewon while following me along this legendary street? You only loved this street because of Hyewon, but you still feel it, right?” Jeonghan helps himself up and absently studies his dirtied pants. “The nostalgia this place evokes?”

“Shut up,” Seungcheol snaps, “just shut up. You know, I expected you to act more maturely than this, Jeonghan.”

“What?” Jeonghan laughs. “Can’t a guy walk in peace?”

Seungcheol stops walking. He lets go of Jeonghan’s arm, and he faces Jeonghan with a furious expression. “You have no right to get hung up over Y/N,” he says with a poisonous tone. “You have no right at all.”

Seungcheol’s words slice through Jeonghan like a blade he didn’t see coming. He wasn't able to brace for it. He didn’t expect those words to come, especially from Seungcheol.

“You broke her heart.” Seungcheol’s tone is more fit for a eulogy than for a conversation with his best friend. “You made a choice years ago. What did you expect the ending to be? You can’t cry now.” His face softens. “Be a man. Accept that she’s moved on. Did you see her face earlier at the baby shower? She didn’t even look at you with any hurt or anger.” He presses a hand on Jeonghan’s shoulder. “She looks happy. Was she surprised to have seen you? Yes. But she has clearly moved on, and so should you.”

There is silence for a while until Seungcheol hands him a face mask.

"Spare yourself the hell you'd experience from gossip rags and wear the fucking mask. You look terrible and stupid, coming here without any disguise at all. These aren’t uni days anymore, dumbass."

The cobbled pavements of the narrow alley that Jeonghan and Seungcheol are walking on are still the same. It feels damp, even though no rain had poured that night. It is chipped and uneven in some places, and both men could still remember how easily one could trip and fall on the slippery cobblestones. But despite the imperfections of this street, they both know someone who had loved it for what it was.

Yes, you had loved this alleyway for its bright lights and broken cobblestones. Seungcheol had loved it because of your friend Hyewon, but Jeonghan had loved it for what it contained: the restaurants and thrift stores, all of which still had signs that flash in bright neon blues and violets.

And he loved them because of the memories he had created inside them—memories that he had made with you.

But now he realizes that this alleyway is a literal Memory Lane, bringing him back to the past and clouding his judgment of the present.

As he walks past Georgie’s, He remembers your words again.

“Please be careful with my heart.”

Friday has barely ended, and Saturday is just about to begin, but when Georgie’s fades behind him, he laughs. He laughs like the idiot that he is, and tears pour out of his eyes as he does so.

“I will be true to you—just a promise from you will do: from the very start, please be careful with my heart.”

🍁🎧🧡

The truth has finally hit him.

Everything that he had with you—all of it—is now just memories and history.

And his conviction that he should stop riding this rollercoaster of emotions about you becomes even more pronounced when his phone vibrates, and he picks up a call.

“Where are you?” a woman’s voice asks, worried. “I’ve been up all night waiting at your apartment.”

Seungcheol mouths, Who is it?

Jeonghan flashes the phone at Seungcheol.

It was Jung Mirae.

“I love you and you know I do—there’ll be no one else for me. I promise I’ll be always true, for the world and all to see. Love has heard some lies softly spoken, and I have had my heart badly broken; I’ve been burned and I’ve been hurt before.”

🍁🎧🧡

Mingyu stops staring at the ceiling and turns to look at you. You are sleeping beside him, tucked under his arm, and he is happy. He had spent the night with you, going through your memories and learning from them. He had spent the whole night immersed in the past that you had inside you.

Yes, indeed, he had learned a lot about you tonight. And as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead, he whispers something that you did not hear. He whispers words that he just wants to prove to you with actions.

“I’ll be careful with your heart,” Mingyu whispers as he kisses your hair, your neck, your bare shoulder, “because I know how it feels to get hurt, too.” If you had been awake at that point, you would have seen the pensive, faraway look in his eyes as he walks down his own cobblestoned path—his own Memory Lane. If you had been awake, you would have worried about his expression like he knows you would. So he quickly smiles at your peaceful, sleeping face.

“I have a story, too,” he adds softly, “but I’ll save it for later.” He hugs you close to him. “For now, I’ll just be content with taking care of you.” He kisses your lips, and you stir. “Of us.”

When your eyes open, he shyly ducks under the covers, his twinkling eyes peeking at you. And as you protest that it was late and that he should sleep, he laughs softly, and he nods. “Okay, okay. I’ll take care of you.”

“What?” you ask, uncomprehending. “Say again, baby?”

“Nothing.” He hugs you close again. “Just that I love you.”

You fall back into sleep at his words, and he keeps watching you until his eyes close on their own.

“I love you,” he whispers again.

“So I know just how you feel: trust that my love is real for you. I’ll be gentle with your heart—I’ll caress it like the morning dew. I’ll be right beside you forever, I won’t let our world fall apart. From the very start, I’ll be careful with your heart.”

Author’s Note: Thank you very much for reading! I know that I have been very slow and inconsistent with my updates, but as long as there are unfinished WIPs on this list, please expect me to keep posting, no matter how sporadic. Tell me what you think about this part on the askbox, comments/reblogs! Thank you! - Leanne.

#seventeen #seventeen scenarios #svtcreations #seventeen angst #yoon jeonghan #yoon jeonghan angst #jeonghan #jeonghan angst #svt scenarios #svt angst

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sweetlavenderwritings · 3 years

Text

Little to No Space

summary: tendou has a little crush on a certain someone, their straight faced manager that never reacts to his weird shenanigans. his best friend advises that they should get closer.

-or, you get stuck in a locker with the guess monster.

a/n: this was based off an asmr i listened to a couple nights ago (you were hiding in a locker with a teacher of yours) it was kinda funny bc the one who voiced it was oikawa’s official va. anyways, take whatever this is lol.

pairing/s: tendou satori x reader

wc: 2 147 (whoops)

tags: crack, comedy(?), humor, ur literally just in a funny situation lol, nsfw implication if u squint

-ꦼ———▸ crossposted on ao3

⋅. ♪ .⋅ Loving Tendou Playlist

“You need to stop staring at our manager and actually talk to her Satori.” Ushijima’s deep voice broke him out of his trance, catching his attention.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Wakatoshi-kun.” He deflected. Okay, maybe he did tend to stare at you. But he swears he didn’t do it that much.

Ushijima rolled his eyes at that, “I may not be the brightest when it comes people-”

“You got that right.” He snickered while putting his gym clothes away.

“As I was saying, I at least know she isn’t the least bothered by you,” he shut his locker door with a firm bang, interrupting his musing for a moment, “we can all see how she isn’t fazed by whatever antics you flung at her.”

“But that’s just because she’s just like you!” His best friend raised his brows at him. “Not completely, but she’s uhh, I don’t know-stoic. Straight faced and doesn’t say anything much unless necessary.”

“I’m not stoic.”

“Sure you aren’t.” Has he really not noticed?

“So you’re implying that you can be close to her?” He knew his best friend can be quite obtuse sometimes, but where did that come from?

“That’s not what I’m saying at all, where did even get that idea?” He turned his attention to his duffel bag, already done with the conversation.

But it seems Ushijima wasn’t, “You said she was just like me, even if it was just a bit. And since we’re close, that means you could be with her as well.”

“You’re grasping at short straws here Ushiwaka,” he teased. “Why do you seem so persistent to get me to talk to her?”

“Because I think she might be one of the few people that would actually tolerate your weird personality, rather than shun you for it like most people would.” Oh, that was actually helpful. He knew Ushijima rarely spoke, but whenever he did, it was always something meaningful and helpful.

Ushijima scratched at his neck, looking around the locker room looking for something.

“Uhh, watcha looking for there buddy?”

“I’m missing my pair of socks.” Ushijima groaned. Suddenly, all his previous thoughts of him being meaningful was diminished within a second.

“That’s the fourth time this week ‘Toshi.”

“I know, but for some reason they don’t end up where they’re supposed to be.” He was pouting, the redhead could tell. You wouldn’t actually see it until you looked closely.

He had to reassure their captain before he drones about ads he read in today’s newspaper. He was not interested in discounts held for sock stores. “We’ll ask the janitors tomorrow, okay? Don’t fret about it.”

Satisfied with his answer, Ushijima nodded. They both grabbed their bags then turned to leave, until they heard a knock at the door.

“Uhm, excuse me. Is Tendou-kun here by any chance?” Speak of the devil...

He stilled, clearly not expecting for you to look for him. He wondered how long you’ve been there, hoping you haven’t heard a single word from their conversation that just happened to be about you.

Ushijima looked at him, a faint smirk curved at the corners of his lips. He gave him a look as if to say, this is your chance.

Without consulting him if he even wanted to answer, he strode towards the door and opened it without warning, causing you to jump back in surprise. The basket of jerseys nearly fell from your hands in shock.

He mentally slapped himself in the face. Way to go Wakatoshi, scare off our manager.

“Satori’s right here,” He waved to him, standing still like a deer in the headlights. “I must go.” He walked past you, leaving no space for you to even start a conversation with him.

“Oh, uhm alright. Thank you Ushijima-san.” You waved to Ushijima before to turning to him, looking at him with a blank expression.

“I’m sorry, it seems I interrupted you on your way home. But I promise this will be quick.” You said with a flat tone. You reached down on the freshly laundered basket of jerseys, fumbling with the different colored fabrics as you looked for something.

With a victorious ‘ah’, you held up a familiar pair of socks.

“I kept seeing these somewhere in your locker rooms whenever I clean after practice. I usually just place them on the benches but this time it was on basket with the rest of the jerseys so I took the liberty to wash them.” He took them from your hands, fingers lightly brushing when he grab ahold of the very socks his best friend was pouting about. He jolted, feeling a sensation from the minimal contact.

Either you ignored him or didn’t notice, which was probably the latter, you moved on to place the basket on a corner.

‘You need to stop staring at our manager and actually talk to her Satori.’

“So, how are you managing so far manager-chan?” He hoped his voice didn’t reveal how nervous he was to be alone with you.

In truth, he liked being with you at any chance he could get. It was fun flinging non-nonsensical shit at you, just to get a reaction. It was like a challenge for him really, wanting nothing more than to see you flustered or even better, laugh at his jokes just for once.

You never looked irked or disgusted by his whole demeanor, which was something he appreciated a lot. He hoped you never would, fearing that it might be the inevitable truth he wasn’t willing to accept.

That he was a monster no one could truly understand.

“I’m still afraid of getting hit by a ball every time Ushijima-san serves, but other than that I’m doing fine.” You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand, exhaustion evident on your face. “You’re not going home, Tendou-san? It’s already late, I suggest you hurry now so you can rest easy for tomorrow’s practice.”

He smirks, suddenly feeling a mood for a good teasing. “Dawww, is our dear little manager concerned for the resident Guess Monster?” He quirked a brow as he leered at you with a teasing grin.

Unperturbed, you tilted your head, looking a bit puzzled. “Of course I am. I am your manager after all, isn’t it my job to look after the team?”

“Don’t be shy, you can just say you like me, manager-chaaan~” He thought really shouldn’t tease you like that but he really can’t help himself.

What happened next surprised him the most.

He figured you’d wave off his teasing like always, roll your eyes then move on with your day. But instead, he spots the blushing of your cheeks. Something he didn’t expect from you at all.

He opens his mouth to say something but stops at the sounds of footsteps nearing the locker room.

Shit. If the team saw you alone with him in the locker rooms at this hour it’ll be the death of him. You wouldn’t have cared, but he knows they’ll hold it over his head and tease him relentlessly, insinuating that there’s something going on between the two of you.

With a hushed ‘Quick!’ he grabs your arm then pulls you into a vacant locker. He shuts the door in haste, making a loud bang that makes him wince.

“Tendou what’re you-” he shuts you up with a hand covering your mouth. He looks at you pleadingly as he zips up his lips, urging you to stay quiet. You nod with his hand still covering your lips.

“Hurry up Semi! We’re gonna be late!” Reon’s voice booms loudly as they enter the room, causing the both of you to jump in surprise.

“Wait a damn minute will you? I just forgot my wallet.” The sound of a locker opening fills in the sudden silence. He waits with a bated breath hoping they’ll leave soon.

But it seems that wasn’t the case.

“Say... Isn’t that Tendou’s duffel bag?” You both hear Shirabu’s voice ask with uncertainty. Tendou freezes, unsure what to do.

There’s a muffled noise of shuffling. “Yeah, it’s his alright. It’s his jacket draped over it.”

“Then why is it still here? Shouldn’t he have left by now?”

“Didn’t we pass by Ushijima just earlier?” Shit. Shit. Shit.

The locker you were both hiding in was getting hotter by the minute. He feels a sweat trickle down his neck as he tries not to breathe loudly as to not grab attention.

When Ushijima told him to get closer to you, he surely didn’t mean this!

Your soft hands reach to take his off your mouth. He mouths a soft ‘sorry’ but you shake your head softly, not minding his mistake in the slightest. With the ongoing conversation about his whereabouts outside he distracts himself with little details he begins to notice.

Like how you smelled of baby powder and faint deodorant, or how there are strands of your hair sticking to your exposed neck from your ponytail. He tries hard not to think about how close you were. Your shoulders pressed against his chest, head just below his chin, and your hips just right where his-

“Tendou-kun,” he hears you whisper. He cranes his just a bit, trying to get a look at your face. “Your phone is bumping my hip, I know there’s not much space but can you please move it a bit?”

Phone? What phone? He was pretty sure he left it in his bag━

“Sorry.” He apologizes meekly, wiggling his hips away from you as he desperately wills his sudden hard on to calm down. This locker was gonna be the death of him soon if he stays here any longer.

He thanks whatever deity is at work above for your obliviousness. A blessing in disguise he’s really thankful at the moment.

“Eh, why’re we wasting time here? He probably just went to the bathroom.” Semi cuts off as he grabs his wallet. Tendou thanks the ashen blond silently, promising not to tease him just for a day.

He hears the door shut. He waits until the footsteps are completely gone, then sighs in relief when no one comes back.

“Phew, that was a close call. Who knows what might’ve happened if they found us here.” He lets out a laugh, “we can leave now, [y/n]-chan.”

Then he’s looking at you, head ducked so he couldn’t see much of your face. But he peers between the strands of your hair and finally notices how flustered you look.

He smirks. “[y/n]-chan?”

For once in your life, you try to avoid his eyes.“O-oh! Tendou-kun, are they gone yet?”

“If I knew better manager-chan~ Judging by your flustered face, I would assume you actually wanted to stay here with me.”

Your eyes widen like saucers. “No! It’s just that it’s cramped in here, it got hot so I am blushing for different reasons!” Your composure was breaking by the minute, hands flailing in exaggeration as you try to explain in defense.

He barks out a laugh. “Manager-chan, I was just kidding! Calm down for me, hm?” You don’t reply.

“Alright, I’m sorry for teasing you.” He says as he reaches for the knob, “let’s just get out of here-”

You shoot your hand on his wrist, surprising the both of you. “Uh... about what you just said.”

He waits for you to continue. With a deep breath you try to finish your sentence. “I don’t mind, being here with Tendou-kun.... that’s all.”

The message clicks in his brain. I like you Tendou-kun.

“Oh.” He replied numbly. He was sure he must’ve looked stupid with the face he was making, still awestruck at what you just admitted.

You giggle, a sound he finds himself emitting to his memory.

“You’re weird as ever Tendou-kun,” the look of adoration you gave him nearly made him choke. “But that’s fine, I like that about you.”

Two confessions all at once? Was this a dream? Boy, he surely was gonna panic about this to Ushijima later, not that he’d be any of help.

Waving away the butterflies in his stomach, he ruffles your hair. “You’re too full of surprises today [y/n]-chan. Someday you’re gonna give me a heart attack if you just suddenly give me these cute faces without warning.”

He feels himself smile wide at another bashful look you give him.

“Now let’s get out of here.” He twists the knob inside but it doesn’t budge. Confused, he tries to twist it another way but it still doesn’t move. He struggles with it for a minute until he gives up.

It wouldn’t open.

“Uhh... Tendou-kun, I think we might have to call the others.” He hears you say tentatively.

“Sure, do you have your phone with you?”

You pat your pockets for a second. “Oh, I must’ve left it in my bag. How about we use your phone instead?”

“...”

#LSAHDLKAS #no editing again #imma pass out now lol #tendou x reader #tendou satori #tendou satori x reader #tendou x you #tendou x y/n #tendou satori x you #haikyuu satori #satori fluff #tendou fluff #haikyuu tendou #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fandom #haikyuu

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

ANGELS & AIRWAVES (w. jjk)

He's never met you but you know how he sounds when he wakes up from a nap and his greatest fears. You know the way he sings after a shower and that he could be mistaken for a dying seal when he's laughing too hard. The best part? You don't judge him for any of it - including the fact he's a filthy Widow main. He might just love you.

alt summary. Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

pairing. jeon jungkook

genre + rating. fluffy crack. general, for now.

warning / tags. long-distance relationship, crushes, canon compliant (ish), eventual happy ending, gaming, gamer!jungkook, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, overwatch. tags are hard. :(

reading. n/a. a three part one-shot.

word count. ~2750

part ii.

JUNGKOOK’S ROOM Sunday, 15 March, 2020. 2:01 AM.

He falls for you in between the tireless teasing, the laughter that sinks into his ears and replays like a highlight reel. It happens when he leasts expects it, when he's got his face pressed into the velvet of Yeontan's fur and you're cooing over voice chat, whispering sweet nothings to the manic panic pup. It comes in the moments he's not expecting it to, when he's frustrated and unbearable and you're as sunny as always, spilling yellow paint across the doors he tries to keep shut.

Bit by bit, day by day, he finds himself thinking of you more.

First, it's wondering what you're doing while he's half-asleep and on his way to the studio. Do you look as tired as you sound? What colour is your hair and how does it stick up when you've just rolled out of bed? When you yawn, do you stretch like a cat? He thinks you do, if the sounds you make are any indication.

Then it's asking himself whether you might like the same things he does, from horror movies to carnival rides. Would you hold his hand as you made the drop, stomachs leaping into your throats? Would you scream? Would it sound anything like that terrified pterodactyl noise you make when you're spawn camped by a Roadhog? He doesn't consider the fact that he doesn't even know if you're in the same city and you'll likely never meet - bound to the servers of Overwatch only.

He thinks about all the things he'd like to do with you. Video game nights filled with butter-tipped fingers and spilled popcorn. Walks with your family dog - Natto - you'd told him about, all fluffy white fur and dark teddy bear eyes. Sunrises on the rooftop of his building, because you had the worst insomnia he'd ever seen and what better way to spend your endless waking hours than with him.

Jeon Jungkook knows he'll probably never get any of these things, but he lets himself daydream anyway.

Like now, for instance, as the two of you sit in another queue at 2 AM. You just woke up and you've got that tell-tale rattle in your lungs, words sluggish and lacking any real intent. He imagines you look the way you sound - tired and a little out of it, with barely opened eyes and sleep-loosened limbs.

"How'd you sleep?" He asks softly, crossing his legs beneath him and raising his arms high above his head in the same instance. The bones of his body realign, ridges of his spine clicking into place when he knots his fingers together and pulls taut.

"You know - the usual," you muse, apathetic. It's always the same.

He doesn't question it any further. He had once or twice, when you'd first started talking and he'd noticed the way you were always up at inhuman times. One grumbling response had told him enough - your schedule was what it was and no amount of remedying could fix it.

There's a beat of silence before he hears rustling and then the loud, inescapable sound of an electric toothbrush. You don't bother to mute your microphone, not that he minds. He simply sits quietly, scrolling through his phone as you go about your "morning" routine.

"How was your day?" You're settled back at your computer, he thinks. The acoustics sound far less like that of a bathroom.

"I had the day off, actually." He'd used it to edit some footage and record a cover. He hasn't posted it to Twitter yet - there were certain times he was supposed to, to maximize visibility - but he's excited for when he does. It's a song that's been stuck in his head for weeks, all thanks to you.

"Woah - you didn't work today?" There's genuine surprise in your question, rounded syllables that pop off your tongue in an explosion of shock.

“Right?” He laughs a little, short and sweet.

Despite his carefully crafted facade, there were certain plot points that just stuck, intrinsically weaved into his day-to-day whether he liked it or not.

His jam packed schedule, for instance.

To you, it’s the result of stretching himself too thin between teaching at his friend’s dance studio (where he also apparently moonlights as a personal trainer) and working as a videographer for his media-involved friends. Not that you know any of them. No, no. All the work he does is for the little guys - none of those big companies like BigHit or JYP. Jungkook’s just your average Joe behind the camera.

“What did you do all day then?” You’re still in awe, little flecks of wonder threaded throughout like glittering gold yarn.

“Hung out. Did some editing. I’m kind of behind.” That was an understatement. He’s working on footage from six months ago, trying to get it out before they head on tour and he won’t have the kind of time he has now.

“Probably spending too much time gaming.”

“Yeah, probably.” Not that he minds, or that he’d change it. He savours the time you spend together, even if it has kind of messed up his sleep schedule.

“Sorry not sorry,” you quip, seemingly reading his mind.

“You should be,” he retorts with laughter that builds in his stomach and echoes out of his chest. “I don’t think I’ve had a good night's sleep in weeks.”

If you hadn’t had this conversation a handful of times before, he thinks you might be offended. Instead, he can practically hear you roll your eyes - imagines your optic nerve nearly severs with the intensity of it - and grins.

“Don’t kid yourself - you know I’m the best thing about your nights!”

You’re not wrong. “You’ve been lied to.”

“I’m suing!”

“I’ll have my lawyer contact your lawyer.”

“Wait, what?”

The two of you have done what you always do - talked yourself into a tizzy that has you both laughing, sound crackling across the airwaves. It’s nonsensical and silly but it feels good. Your bond shines with it, glitters prettily between you.

Thank god for Overwatch.

You return the conversation to a semblance of normalcy first. “Did you listen to that song I sent?”

“Yeah.” The briefest pause. “It was terrible. Hated it.”

“Oh, shut up!”

“I’m kidding. It was really good.” Jungkook doesn’t tell you that he’s had it on repeat for the past few days, saved to the private playlist that’s filled with the rest of your song recommendations.

“I know!” You’re preening as if he’d just complimented you, clearly pleased by the praise. He supposes it’s a pretty good endorsement regardless.

“Got any more for me?”

“I should just make you a playlist.”

He ignores the way his heart skips a very real beat, mimics the erratic rhythm of his fingers on his keyboard. Because he’d absolutely love that.

“You should.”

“Really?” You sound uncertain but maybe - just maybe - a little hopeful. He might also just be imagining things, as he so often does with you.

“Yeah. Why not?” It comes nonchalantly despite the rushing in his ears, the wave that threatens to drown him. He can feel emotion in his chest - winged and distracting. A kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering away.

You’re quiet for another second. It feels like an eon. “Okay, yeah. I’ll start one and we can just add to it together.”

BIG HIT ENTERTAINMENT’S GYM Thursday, 26 March, 2020. 6:30 PM.

“You sound like a meathead,” you say, off-hand and disinterested.

He loathes the grunt that squeaks past his teeth as he gently returns the dumbbells to the floor. Cue a generous chug of water and a near death experience when the liquid goes down the wrong pipe.

Loud coughing crackles through his airpods before he’s addressing you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re grunting like a caveman.”

If your first comment hadn’t offended him, this one does. Jungkook scoffs, tonguing the interior of his cheek as his brow furrows. Weights are returned to his hands, rotated above each shoulder as he resumes another set of presses.

“Do you even workout anything other than your fingers?” He’s making a conscious effort not to make a sound, breath exhaled sharply through his nose. It’s harder than he cares to admit but he’s also not about to give you an excuse to tease him further. You already had way too much material.

“Don’t shame me!” You really don’t sound that indignant.

“So, I’m right? You’re a big couch potato who’s just jealous of my hot body?”

Now you’re incredulous. It’s one of his favourite sounds because it comes draped in laughter, dancing around his head in the form of cartoon hearts.

“Did you just say ‘hot body’, Jay?”

“Maybe I did. What of it?” He sniffs - he’s picked it up from you over the months - and your amusement doubles, giggles crashing into each other in their haste.

“You are so, so weird.” There’s a tenderness in your voice that he’d like to live in. It wraps him up like a hug, tugging at his feeble little heartstrings.

“Weird and hot.”

“You can’t just say that!”

“Why not?” If anything, you’re the one person he can say it to. With you, it’s the funniest joke he’s ever made. It’s playful and silly, with no rhyme or reason. He doesn’t have to worry about it being misconstrued or held against him.

“You just can’t! Only other people can say it.” You sigh dramatically, from your chest. “Do I have to teach you everything?”

“Everything but being healthy, probably.”

“Har har har.”

He can tell by how the words roll off your tongue, muffled and lacking clarity, that you’re eating. He wonders if you’ve made pancakes - you’d been complaining about craving them just two days ago. There are no tell-tale crunching or slurping, so he knows it isn’t your usual double whammy combo of ramyeon and Choco Boys.

“I’ll have you know I used to run.” Something about the way you say it makes him believe you, even though he wants to mock you a little more.

“In gym class doesn’t count.”

“I used to run with Natto, you ass!” Okay - so that actually sounded legitimate.

“Why don’t you still then?”

“There was an incident once.” You’re sipping on something - likely coffee with oat milk and two pumps of hazelnut syrup. It doesn’t matter that it’s dinner time and most people would be winding down for the evening. “Because of my insomnia, I’d run at odd hours. One day, some weirdo stopped me while I was running along the river. He didn’t hurt me or anything—” A part of him thinks you’re downplaying it but he says nothing, only waiting for you to continue. “—but he followed me home. I made the mistake of telling my parents and they freaked out so…”

“So no more running by yourself.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“I’d run with you.” It doesn’t mean much, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Thanks, Jay.”

Not for the first time, he wishes he could hear his name - his real name. Just once.

“JUNGKOOOOOOOOOOK.” It eats up every ounce of space of the gym, filling the room with the resounding boom of it. How it manages to be so loud, he’s not sure. He wishes it weren’t. There’s no way you haven’t heard it.

Especially not when it comes again, deafening even to his occupied ears.

“JUNGKOOOOK-AH!” Namjoon now, right as the double doors fly open.

Jimin’s barreling toward the alarmed maknae as he shouts. “WE’RE DOING A VLIVE!”

Jungkook feels like his insides are melting - his internal temperature spiking with embarrassment and worry and something that chants oh no! over and over in his head. The tops of his ears are burning, as is the column of his throat. A quick glance in the mirror confirms his suspicion that he is, indeed, bright tomato red.

“Jay?” You repeat once, twice, when he doesn’t immediately answer. “Everything okay?”

He moves with a speed he doesn’t expect, weights unceremoniously dropped on either side of him before he’s tearing his AirPods out. “I’ve got to go. Sorry!”

He doesn’t end the Discord call a moment too soon, Jimin upon him in the next instant. The smaller dancer is draping himself across Jungkook’s shoulders, the widest shit-eating grin on his pretty face.

“Want to join us for a VLive?”

“No. I’m busy.”

“Busy with your girlfriend?” Jimin’s wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. He only stops when Jungkook shifts aggressively, tearing himself out from underneath the other.

“Not my girlfriend!”

“But you wish she was!”

He can’t deny that, so he doesn’t bother, instead seizing his discarded weights with an embarrassed scowl permanently etched into the planes of his face. He’s reracking them - because god, he’s not an animal - when he notices Jimin making his departure, that teasing smile replaced with something soft and edging on concern.

“What’re you going to do when we’re on tour?”

Jungkook blanches then. You’d become such an undeniable part of his everyday life that he hadn’t even considered what it’d mean when he was busier than now, unable to spend late nights gaming with you.

But Jimn’s already gone, leaving him and his thoughts alone.

JUNGKOOK’S ROOM Friday, 27 March, 2020. 12:05 AM.

It’s close to midnight by the team he logs on. Realistically, he should go to sleep. He’s clean and worn out and his bed is calling to him like a siren at sea. But you’re sitting alone in the channel, streaming Overwatch for no one to see, and he can’t just leave it at that.

He needs to say goodnight, like he always does.

“Coming for my title as Headshot God?” The quip’s off his tongue before you have a chance to acknowledge him, your laughter the first thing he hears once he’s connected.

“I’ve been waiting in this queue for seven minutes. Seven!”

It’s really not that bad. The rare times you’d both queue for DPS were nearly double that.

“Patience is key,” he teases, slumping into his chair as he watches you click through your Hero Gallery. You’re cruising seemingly aimlessly, roving through the different skins for your mains (Mercy, Ana, Genji, Ashe). The silence between you is comfortable, interspersed only by the occasional munching he can only assume comes from the carrots you seem to inhale.

For all the junk you ate, you were somehow also weirdly into vegetables.

“Patience sucks,” you retort, matter-of-fact.

“You know what else sucks?”

It’s a rhetorical question and he knows you know, but because you’re you, you start listing things off just to get under his skin. “Spiders? Undercooked samgyupsal? Not having coffee? Your jokes?”

If he weren’t laughing so hard, he might’ve given you shit for making fun of his comedic genius. He really doesn’t understand how you think he’s the unfunny one when all you do is crack puns.

“I was actually going to say me,” he finally manages in between those high pitched cackles of his.

“Wait, why?” You’re used to him having witty comebacks.

Edge of enamel worries his bottom lip and Jungkook can taste cherry Chapstick and what would be bashfulness, if it had a flavour. “For earlier.”

You scoff, your own tinkling laughter tearing him out from inside his own head.

“It’s okay, goofball.”

He appreciates how laidback you are, never holding anything against him. Not even when he hangs up on you or accidentally spams you with memes when you’re trying (and failing) to sleep. “No. I’m sorry.” He says it earnestly, with all the meaning he can muster.

MATCH FOUND flickers across his and your screen and you’re loading into hero selection. He knows you’ll be too distracted once the game starts, so he’s grateful when you laugh again, sweet as summer.

“Nothing to be sorry about. Just tell me everything’s okay and we’re even.”

Inhale, exhale. Try not to tell her you have the biggest, stupidest crush on her, he tells himself.

“Everything’s okay.” And he means it when he says it, though they aren’t the words he wishes he could say.

“Good.”

You’ve chosen Genji, He smiles to himself when you join voice chat and the rest follow, greetings filtering in from your team members.

“Good luck.” You don’t need it. He still likes to say it.

“You have an early day tomorrow, right?” Leave it to you to remember his schedule even when he doesn’t.

“Yeah, pretty early.”

“Then go to bed! I’ll still be awake when you’re up.”

He lingers on that fact - holds it tightly in his hands so it can’t slip away. You’d be there in the morning, just like you always were. Knowing that stirs those same butterflies in his chest, words stolen by the overzealous beating of their wings.

You read his silence like they’re your own thoughts, “I’m always here for you, Jay.”

“Goodnight.”

"Sleep sweet."

notes. this chapter is set four-ish months following the first, in case that’s not clear. :)

tag list. @teawithbucky

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potassium-pilot · 3 years

Text

Prompt 28: Bow

“So remind me why we’re doing this, if you’d be so kind”, Dia asked.

“You may be an all-powerful warrior with a spellbook in hand, but imagine the utility if you learned something new. Where better to learn than a training ground such as Camp Dragonhead?” Haurchefant reminded her kindly as requested.

“I guess. I don’t necessarily have anything better to do thanks to the Braves, now do I?”

“I hope this might prove sufficiently entertaining during your stay. Here is your weapon.” Haurchefant removed an oaken bow from the wall mount as well as a quiver filled with arrows.

“A bow?”

“Aye. Is aught amiss?” Haurchefant tilted his head at her comment.

“Well, no, I guess…I would have thought you’d recommend something a bit more, er, close combat than that.

“A knight cannot be content with simply one mode of combat. A quick marksman can have just the same impact as the mightiest of swords with the right timing.”

“Yeah, but the sword looks cooler.”

He sighed. “Aesthetics aside, I figured this would be an easier transition. Instead of slinging spells, you would sling arrows.”

“I guess. The bow is definitely a different medium though- easier to aim my hands than this.”

“Who knows? Mayhap you’ll find yourself enjoying it more than you think.”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“I’ll try anything once.”

“Attagirl! Now then, here is where you’ll stand.” Haurchefant lead her to a marker about twenty fulms away from a target. “Allow me to give you an example of proper bow handling.” He grabbed his own bow and quiver and prepared at a target next to hers.

“All right, first thing’s first, depending on your dominant hand- based off of what I’ve seen, you appear to be right-handed- you need to place one leg back and another to the front. As a right-handed woman, keep your right leg to the back for support…” Dia listened as he explained form for proper bow handling for about two minutes.

“….and last, but certainly not least, keep your eye on the target. If you’re aligned with your bow, you will hit your mark.” Finally, he demonstrated everything he said in one shot. Carefully, he drew back the bowstring, and fired at the blue and silver target in front of him. It flew skillfully towards the bullseye and landed perfectly, as if he told the arrow to simply go there. “Does this make sense, my friend?”

“I…think so. I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

“Indeed. Show me what you’ve learned.”

The answer was rather little. She fumbled with the quiver for a moment, failing to get an arrow since she failed to attach the quiver to her person properly. She spun in circles a few times as if she had a mi’qote tail she wanted to catch, but she did manage to get one.

“Got it! Now you said something about a nock”, she mumbled, looking for a slice of metal on the string as he pointed out. “Ah-ha!” she exclaimed quietly as she located it and placed the feathers against it. Slowly, she pulled back the bowstring, but found she couldn’t get it very far back, not to mention her slipping grip on the arrow.

Out of nowhere, Dia felt her arms be lifted upward gently. “Don’t let your elbows fall back into your sides or you’ll never get very far”, he spoke softly into her ear in a low tone. He slid his hands up her arm to her hand and corrected the positioning of the arrow, pulling it slightly backward so she didn’t grip the feathers. “Remember, slightly behind the feathers”, he instructed in the same tone.

Please don’t let go of me, she thought to herself, hoping to every god she could think of that he couldn’t tell how she drank up his warmth, that hot breath against her neck, the way he whispered to her just right, and how it made her heart race.

It only made things worse when he gently took her chin and tilted her head towards the front of her, pressing against his own cheek as he put his face parallel to hers.

“Eyes on the target”, he said just as low before turning his head to her ear, and whispering “Fire.”

She didn’t even register her own grip releasing. She just focused on her racing pulse and the shiver being sent down her spine at his whisper.

“Well done!” he exclaimed aloud, snapping Dia out of whatever the hells that was, and bringing her attention to the target. Her arrow pierced through the edge of the circle near the bottom.

“Uh…I-I didn’t even hit the bullseye.”

“‘Tis your first time, my friend. Many a fresh recruit have sent their arrows flying through our windows, so I consider this a rousing success for your first try!”

Now that he said it, it was rather nice to her that he could see a miss in such a way. To that end, she intended to try again. “Hey, so uh, you might want to help me try that again, Haurchefant. Maybe I’ll hit the bullseye this time with your help”, she suggested meekly.

“Nonsense! You’ll never learn with me hanging over your shoulder. Now then, use what you’ve learned, my friend.”

Dammit, she cursed in her head.

Dia picked up what he led her to do pretty quick, and went through the motions: straight arm, just past the feathers, eyes on the target. She waited a few moments as she felt herself practically fighting the bowstring, but the stage was set.

That is, until she took her eyes away from the target to look at Haurchefant, who seemed to stare her down as well, but why?

She would have thought about it more had she not just grazed his arm with an arrow.

“Oh, Twelve help me!” Dia exclaimed as she threw the bow to the ground to run to his side.

“I’m all right, I’m all right”, he tried to reassure her, but kept his arm conveniently covered. She pulled it away from the wound with great force as he attempted to keep the wound out of her sight. “Gah! I’m so sorry, Haurchefant!” she apologized as she began her ministrations on his arrow wound. “I’m an idiot; I got distracted by something at the last second and that arrow just flew in the exact direction I didn’t want it to go.”

He said nothing. He couldn’t; not when she was right there. The way the aether flowed from her into him electrified his senses. Her firm grip on his arms was exactly what he needed. The way she glistened with sweat in such a frozen wasteland; in this moment, she seemed rather…splendid.

“There. Are you all right?” she asked Haurchefant worriedly.

Halone help him, he needed out of there before he did something he’d regret.

“Oh, uh, yes, I’m fine now, thank you”, he answered rapidly and nervously, “Keep, uh, keep practicing with that bow. I just remembered that I have some business-like…business to attend to in my-my office. Excellent work! Keep it up!” He shot out of the shooting range as fast as he could and entered his office with all haste.

Dia, you fucking idiot, you scared him away. Focus! she berated herself in her head. She picked up the bow one last time, doing exactly as she was instructed, and fired the arrow. It hit the wood that held up the target. “Fuck!” she whispered loudly.

********

The evening sun hanged in the horizon of Ishgard. The golden glow of twilight still shone enough light that the garden she managed to keep alive in the courtyard behind Borel Manor could remain visible. She tended to her peppers and kidragora quietly in spite of the cold. None could make a master botanist stop doing botany, climate be damned.

Once weeds were pruned enough, fertilizer was laid down properly, and covers were applied to keep her labor of love warm through the night, she stepped away. Her garden was located in a different spot of the courtyard, separated by a wall, most likely at the former countess’s request. On that other side of the wall was a small area used to practice combat. Neither her nor Aymeric used the other side all that often; Dia had a proper setup for practicing gunbreaker maneuvers with Thancred back in Mor Dhona, while Aymeric preferred to use the mostly defunct Whitebrim front for his training. With that in mind, she was slightly curious about it, and decided to pay it a visit.

Upon reaching the other side, she took a quick look around. It was painfully obvious how unused everything was considering the frozen state of all the equipment. That said, there was one particular item that didn’t seem to share the same level of disrepair: a dark oak bow, complete with metal arrows in a quiver next to it.

It still hurt. After everything she’d seen and done, after everyone she ever met, after all the sacrifices she’d seen, it still hurt. But still, she always remembered how a smile better suited a hero. Dia picked it up off the wall, alongside a quiver that hung next to it, and stood at the line about 30 fulms behind the target.

The quiver was on correctly this time, making it much easier to pick one out of the collection. She found the nock easily, seeming to have been prepared already, and placed the arrow just above the feather. She placed her right leg back, and lifted the bow, ready to aim. “Arms up”, she whispered as she lifted her arms. “Eyes on the target”, she whispered as she focused on the target.

She could still hear him whisper, “Fire”.

In a moment, she let go of the arrow, and felt a small sting of disappointment as she just missed her mark. It landed on the right between the edge of the target and the bullseye. “Dammit”, she whispered.

“Fine form.”

She turned her head to see Aymeric at the doorway, clearly amused by her attempt. “Come to laugh at your girlfriend and her piss-poor aim?” she snarked, still disappointed in her efforts.

“I would never. Your aim is fine, my dear. That in mind, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lack confidence in something before.”

“You should have met me when I first started adventuring. You’d be floored by how little confidence I’m capable of having.”

He smiled and laughed lightly. Aymeric walked towards her and said, “You look rather dashing with my old bow.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize. I’m sorry.”

“Naught to apologize for, my love. Consider it our bow.” He led her to lift up the bow again. “Your form is quite good, but don’t waver.” He held onto her bow arm to still her arm, and tilted her chin upward, keeping his hand in place. “Align yourself with the bow. Remember, it follows your lead, and you are a natural leader.” She kept her eye on the center of the target.

“Fire”, he ordered in a low tone.

Dia released her grip, and witnessed the glory of her arrow hitting the very center of the bullseye.

She squealed in excitement and hopped in place like a child, making Aymeric laugh in a mixture of pride and amusement. “Congratulations!”

She pounced him and kissed him in her jubilee, and he returned it happily. After a few seconds of enjoyment, she released and told him coyly, “Thank you for being such a great teacher.”

“Where would I be without my star pupil?”

She grinned and returned to kissing him with more passion behind her efforts than the first time, the both of them soaking in each other’s energy and warmth as the evening began to wane.

Thank you too, Haurchefant. I’ll carry your guidance with me always.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv #haurchefant/wol #aymeric/wol #haurchefant greystone #aymeric de borel #female wol #this is the stupidest i’ve ever written #i’m looking forward to writing stupider #just spritz those two with cold water and get them laid and they act normal #ffxiv fanfiction #fanfiction

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leiasfanaccount648 · 4 years

Text

Iwaizumi with a Childish S/O

Pairing: Hajime Iwaizumi x GN!Reader

Genere: Tooth Rotting and Heart Wrenching Fluff

A/N: This started as one thing and then I ended up adding more and it turned into another thing lmao. Also shoutout to @briswriting for believing in me ily. Hope you all enjoy! :)

Warnings/Contains: Maybe a curse word, literally this is all just tooth rotting fluff.

You and Iwaizumi started dating in your first year while he was in his second.

Some people are shocked to hear that you two are dating due to your “contrasting” personalities, but he can care less about what they think and will tell them off if they overstep.

He first met you in the library and he couldn’t help but find the way you were trying to study/focus on your textbook cute.

Like you’re staring at it with such frustration and urge learn the material but you can’t as you just don’t understand why the hell you need to know the anatomy of different reptiles when you know that you won’t remember any of it next month.

And then there’s Iwa’s looking at you from the bookshelf he was originally trying to find a book in.

He immediately feels embarrassed and a little guilty for staring after you’ve caught him and he clears his throat before walking over to you.

“Hey, uh, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to-“

“Do you know anything about reptiles?”

He’s confused at your sudden question, not sure if he heard you right. “I’m sorry?”

“Please, I have a test tomorrow and I’m nowhere near prepared.”

Luckily for you, dear ol’ Iwaizumi Hajime had learned and memorized so many facts from when he was obsessing over Godzilla back in middle school (and let’s be honest, he still loves the big guy)

After that you aced your test, you offered to treat him to boba, which he was at first going to declined (as he feel like he didn’t deserve it) until Oikawa said that he should “take the opportunity while the people still want him and not his best friend”

You were shocked to see Iwa smack the back of the famed Oikawa Tooru’s head, but he later reassured you during your boba session that that was a daily occurance.

Anyway, one of the things that Iwa likes about you the most is how easy going you are compared to his normal and quite hectic life.

I mean, he’s already worn out from homework, practice, and dealing with Oikawa; but that all goes away once you invite him over to watch a Disney movie that you couldn’t get out of your head all day.

He also loves it when you guys bake or cook anything together.

Talking random nonsense, flinging/smearing ingredients on one another’s faces, dancing in the kitchen while the food cooks, etc.

However he’ll have to guide you back down to earth when the recipe is too complicated or even life threatening.

“Iwa! I found a recipe for a blackberry smoothie I wanna try!”

“But, (y/n), you’re allergic to blackberries.”

“And your point is?”

However, he knew he was in love with you when he had a particularly rough day and you had invited him over to hang out for the rest of the evening.

He was assuming to see Disney+ ready to go on the tv, your and his favorite snacks laid out along the coffee table; and best of all, you on the couch with blankets and pillows in one of his volleyball tshirts and your Powerpuff Girls pj shorts.

Instead, the snacks were set up, as well as the pillows and blankets, but you were nowhere in sight.

“(y/n)? I’m here. Where are you?”

Then he heard music, but it wasn’t what you usually listened to, or what was even played on the radio. He couldn’t pinpoint where it was from, but it sounded familiar.

However he had no time to think as he saw a figure come out of your room from the other end of the dark hallway where he stood.

“(y/n)?”

“No! It is I!” You turned on the hallways lights. “Godzilla!”

You were dressed up in a green onesie, and Iwa couldn’t tell what you actually were until he saw the dinosaur hood atop your head and the tail behind your legs. He then heard the music grow in volume and it was then that he recognized the song.

The Pirates of the Caribbean theme.

He didn’t know how to respond, as he didn’t want to laugh due to you picking the wrong music, but you didn’t even give him the chance to.

“And I’m here to attack and destroy any that come into my land!”

You ran after him, phone in hand as it still played the (wrong) music. Out of instinct he ran away and made haste towards your kitchen.

Once you were stopped in the archway trying to see where he was hid, he sneaked up behind you and picked you up by your waist.

“I‘ve caught the great Godzilla!”

The two of you laughed, you more so him as your original plan to chase him around the apartment backfired but you didn’t care.

When he finally let you down, he just had to ask as you were pausing the music. “Why did you play the wrong movie theme?”

“I did?”

“Yeah.”

“The YouTube video had a picture of the movie poster so I assumed it was the right one.”

God you were so cute.

“But why did you dress up like a dinosaur?”

“Correction,” you eyed him playfully, pointing at his nose to let him know you were serious, “I’m Godzilla.”

He chuckled and moved the hood back so he could get a better look at your face as you explained.

“And I’m dressed up because you said you had a bad day and I wanted to make you feel better. So,” she took his hand and led him back into the living room before turning on the tv. “I figured why not watch surprise you as Godzilla before we watch it since I’ve never seen it!”

Iwa looked at you, once again unsure of what to say. You were perfect in more ways than one, but he didn’t have the words to express it.

Instead, he gave you a sweet and gentle kiss before pulling away so he could look you in the eye. You swear you’ve never seen someone’s eyes dilate so much.

“I love you.”

You stared at him as you took in the information, glancing down at your feet before smiling at him.

“I love you, too, but you’re standing on my tail.”

Iwa lifted his foot and looked down to see that he was, in fact, standing on the tail of your onesie.

You led him towards the couch. “You’re gonna have to pay Godzilla back by cuddling them on the couch the whole movie.”

“I don’t think that’s much of a punishment, (y/n).” He laughed as you had him lay down first before snuggling yourself into his arms.

“Shut up and cuddle me.”

519 notes · View notes

billcpher111fics · 4 years

Text

I̴̤̫̿̕ņ̵̺͔̱̮̈́̈́̋ş̸̠̠͍̈́̽̒̕͝e̷̔͌́͜c̷̫̗͚͛u̷̧̨̺͇̞̍̋͠r̵̫͑ì̷̡̳͔̓͜t̶̛̬͎̔̎y̵̹̬̥̒̍̃ ch1

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Fully detailed version on Ao3

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Roman wasn't doing too well after the most recent episode. He had locked himself in his room for the last several days and had been pushing himself to the edge with pumping out new content for Thomas. He didn't eat, he barely slept and he refused to talk to anyone or take a break. He couldn't help but heavily nitpick his work. If the idea wasn't perfect, then it was scrapped altogether. He was horribly stressed and couldn't stop the cascade of horrible thoughts bouncing around his mind.

It's not good enough...

You could do better...

It's not original...

Thomas deserves better...

R̸͙͂̊e̵̥͛́m̴̗̕ủ̷̼̙̚s̷̯͚͂̓could do better than you...

They'll never forgive you...

It was all your fault...

You're the one who decided to make fun of his name...

He had every right to defend himself...

The more he listened to these thoughts, the worse they got. Throwing around his worst thoughts and feelings back at him. The worst part? He knew that they weren't wrong. He was the one who messed everything up. He was the one who chose his actions. Those were his mistakes. He only hoped that if he worked hard enough and pumped out enough good content, that would at least give him the opportunity to try and make things right.

That will never work...

All he needed to do was work a little harder. It was the very least he could do after being such a pain for the other sides to deal with.

They're probably happy that you never leave your room anymore...

He would be able to apologize to J-... Deceit. For his actions and making him out to be the villain...

You have no right to say his name after what you did...

He would apologize to Patton for putting too much pressure on him.

You expected too much from him. Driving him to his limits. I wouldn't be surprised that he would have finally lost his patients to deal with you...

He would apologize to Logan for always being so uncooperative with him.

All you do is bother him with your nonsense and ignore him whenever he isn't relevant to your own selfish wants. How horrible does that make you? He does his best for Thomas and all you do is mess things up? How can you look him in the eyes after treating him so horribly?...

And he would apologize to Virgil. For... Everything. And he wouldn't expect him to forgive him.

You don't deserve forgiveness...

He didn't deserve Virgil forgiveness... Or anyones. But he had treated Virgil the worst, by far.

From the beginning, you gave Virgil nothing but a hard time. You made him into the bad guy for you to fight against to make yourself feel better. You're pathetic. He had never done anything wrong to you but you insisted on bullying and degrading him. Your probably the reason he ducked out. If not, at least a big reason why. All Virgil has ever done was try and keep Thomas safe. But you just had to put your own selfish desires above his. Didn't you?...

Then he would apologize to Thomas. He deserves so much more than...

A pathetic and self-centered Creativity who couldn't- Wouldnt stop thinking about himself for five seconds to see how much he was hurting thous around him? A Mistake? Someone not deserving of the title Hero?...

Him...

He also needed to apologize to... To...

You can even say it. How pathetic. After everything you've done to make everyone else the bad guy but your self, you still can't even say his name and admit you were wrong. You're always wrong. When have you never not been wrong!?

You were wrong about Virgil...

You were Wrong about Janus...

You were wrong about the wedding...

You were wrong about everything...

They're probably mad at you...

I wouldn't doubt it...

Your the one who had messed up...

You don't deserve them...

You don't deserve to be here...

They would all be happy if you ducked out...

Janus was right...

You're the evil twin...

All Remus has ever done was to do his job as intrusive thoughts...

Your the one who had hurt the ones you had 'cared' about...

Your no hero...

You don't deserve to be a hero...

Your not Thomas' hero.

Roman gasped and grabbed at his chest in pain. It hurt. Almost as if someone was stabbing him in the chest. He looked down to see that there was a small dark patch that was barely covered by his sash. It almost looked like a splatter of ink, staining his previously white and pristine princely outfit.

You don't deserve the title of 'Prince'...

Roman gasped in pain, not noticing that the spot had grown slightly at the hurtful comment that plagued his mind.

Then he had felt a slight pulling sensation. He was being summoned. By Thomas. Dammit!

Roman quickly ran over to his mirror, looking himself. He looked horrible. His hair was a mess, his eyes had dreadful bags underneath them, his clothes were terribly wrinkled. He was a mess. In a rush, he tidied his hair and quickly applied some concealer then with a snap he removed the wrinkles from his clothes. Another look in the mirror had him frowning. His hair still looked like a mess.

They were going to notice...

The concealer was sloppy at best.

They were going to know how tired he was...

His suit was looking... Better... But the black 'ink' blotch was still there and nearly visible from behind his sash. He could do better.

He felt another tug.

He didn't have time. He rushed to grab a stack of papers filled with his approved ideas and quickly sunk out.

"Greetings, plebeians!" Roman greeted, posing in his typical manner.

God. Could you go one day without acting like a pompous prick?...

He flinched slightly at the pain but dug his nails into his fists as to not react.

"Roman," Logan began, "It had taken Thomas calling you more than once for you to arrive. What were you doing?" He questioned. He didn't look mad, but he wasn't the one for flaunting his emotions.

He's mad at you...

You know how important punctuality is to him...

Roman forced a smile threw the pain. "My apologies, Dear nerd!"

You cant go 5-second without making fun of someone, can you?...

How pathetic...

"I was just a bit... Fashionably late! Tis all!" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Janus staring at him. He felt dread pull into his stomach.

Logan hesitantly nodded, appearing to take that as an answer. "Alright, let's get back onto the current topic." Logan excepted that far too easily. Usually, he would ask for more detail or lecture Roman on showing up on time but he had just... Excepted his answer?

He didn't want to waste any more time on you than he already hast to...

You really do get in the way...

"As for the current issue...Patton? Do you mind addressing it? You're more suited to deal with more... Emotionally based issues?" He asked awkwardly. Clearly uncomfortable with the current topic that Roman was still in the dark on.

"Oh!" Patton started. "Well, Roman? We've been talking lately...and well..." He paused, trying to work out his sentence. Romans' stomach was in knots and his heartbeat raised.

They don't like you...

They're going to make you apologize for making their lives miserable...

They were going to ask you to take a step back and stay out of the way...

You're always in the way...

Romans' nails dug tighter into his palms. A trickle of blood making its way down his hand. Virgil was starting to look at him worried. Why on earth would he be worried about him?

He didn't deserve it.

You don't deserve it...

"Well... We've just been wondering... Are you-"

"Are you ok!" Virgil blurted out. Blushing furiously when everyone turned to look at him. "Sorry..." He muttered quietly. "The suspense was driving me up the wall... anxiety and all..."

"That's alright, Virgil." Thomas reassured calmly, "But that is what we're here to talk about. Are you ok Roman?" He asked, turning to the fanciful trait.

Roman was... confused, to say the least. His fists relaxed and unfurled and he looked baffled at the others. They were asking if he was ok? Why did they care? Weren't they mad at him? He had messed up big time and they weren't even going to comment on that? "Uuh... Sure?... Why?" He asked hesitantly.

"You haven't left your room in over a week, kiddo," Patton said, playing with the sleeves of his cat hoodie like he did when he was upset. "We were worried bout you."

They don't mean it...

They're only doing this to show face...

Why on earth would they worry about you after all that you've done...

"Well, I am fine, padre," Roman answered, ignoring the stabbing pain in his chest. "I have just been in my room working in some ideas for Thomas' videos. That's all." He answered. They all looked around at one another, clearly not believing him.

Why would they belive you?...

What have you done to make them believe you? Let alone trust you?...

In fact, they believe that lying snake more than you...

"Oh, Roman," A hiss rang out that sent chills down his spine. "For an actor, you are such a 'good' lier..." Janus said, looking at his gloves like he could examine his nails from underneath them.

"I have no idea what you mean," Roman said, doing his best to keep his mouth in check.

God, how horrible of a person do you have to be to have to try and not be an asshole...

No wonder they hate you...

Roman let out an involuntary flinch, doing his best to ignore the stares he was receiving from the others. "Seriously," Janus said softer, "Are you ok? You've been avoiding everyone."

Grate, now you've gone and upset them...

Roman's hands were back into tight fusts, trying to block out the pain. "A-and you look a mess," Virgil added quietly. "Your concealer is patchy and you look exhausted. Have you even slept?" He asked.

"Of course I have! I-"

"Lies," Janus stated simply.

How stupid can you be to think you can just lie like that with Janus here...

Roman flinched back at the comment, his nails digging further into his palms and drawing out more blood. "Roman, are you ok?" Logan asked, "You seem to be in pain. Are you hurt?" He asked, moving closer to Roman to see if he could find any injuries.

All you do is cause problems for them...

Roman quickly backed away, "Of course I'm fine!" He insisted, continuing before Janus could interrupt him, " "But, yes, I haven't been sleeping too often because I've been working on these ideas!" Roman said, holding up his small stack of papers.

How pathetic...

A creativity who can't even come up with enough good ideas...

Are you sure you've earned the title 'creativity'...

Roman's forced smile flickered slightly at the pain. Blood lightly smearing onto the stacks of papers he held in his own hand. "You shouldn't overwork yourself, Roman." Thomas softly scolded. "I know that things have been stressful lately-"

All because you can't keep your stupid mouth shut...

"-But you need to take a break and go easier on yourself."

"I'll be fine!" Roman insisted, "I just needed to pump out a few more ideas and the ill take a break! I promise!"

You should no better than to make promises you can't keep...

He bit back a flinch, hoping the others didn't notice. But they did. They looked back and forth at each other wondering what they should do. "Well..." Thomas paused. "Then... Let's see your ideas."

"What?"

"Let's see these ideas you've been working on."

"Um- Well... Uh..."

They're not good enough...

They're going to hate them...

They will hate you if you show them these ideas...

You spent so long on horrible ideas...

What will that make them think of you?...

You should have done better...

They're not good enough...

You're not good enough...

Thomas would be better without you...

They all would...

Romans' hands were now lightly shaking, but he didn't seem to notice. "I d-don't think that's the best idea. They still need revised and worked on some more before there more... Presentable?" He said hesitantly.

"We can help you review them," Logan suggested. "You are far too overworked to have to handle them on your own."

Roman sifted from one foot to another, "Yeah... But like you said I am a bit overworked, so most-"

All...

"- of these ideas might not be so good. I still need to revise them and touch them up a bit before I can show you guys..." He answered.

"Just let us help you, kiddo." Patton insisted.

Virgil nodded in agreement, "You have been overworking yourself to the point of exhaustion. We can take some of the load off." He promised, "Just trust us..."

Roman still looked rather hesitant. "I'm not sure. The ideas are... Not so good at the moment..."

Janus spoke up, "Oh Roman. There is no reason to be so insecure about your work, I'm sure whatever it is we will all love it."

Insecure...

I̶̲͌n̵̨̓s̵̞͌e̵̛̱c̴̭͠ȗ̵͍r̷͎̀e̴̪͘.̷̛͕.̷̨̋.̶̣͒

"I am not Ḭ̴̧̡̧̟̥̮͓̥̜̪̯̭͈̬͍̔̉̈́͋͂̑̈́͒ṇ̶̭̙̼̭̭̱̦̽̉̂̓͊͌̍̍͐̈̔̄̃̚ş̷̡̢͙͔̦̙̳͙̖̪͖̲̝̥̪͂̆͗̇̊̾͛̔̃͐̊̏̕͝e̸̢̪̟̣͇̖̖̯̅̈̈̽̀̈́̂c̷̹̫̭̘̤̺̳͓̺̊ų̴͎̲̱͚̮̮̏̄̃̊̿̀̔̈́̑͛́̑͘r̶̹̳̘̤̟̙̬͓͙̩̭̟̫͇͖̦̲̍̉̀̃͗͊̏̿͊̋͋͛͜e̷̛̖̩̗͔͑͂͌̉̂̾̕!" His voice shook the room.

He let out a shocked gasp and slapped his hand over his mouth as the others looked on in startled shock. He felt like was shaking down to his very core. "Roman...?"

"I-i am sorry! I- I have no idea what that was...": he insisted softly. He looked confused when everyone looked at him even more concerned. Glancing down at his hand, he finally noticed the blood seeping out of the cuts made by his nails. He was stunned for a moment before quickly whipping the blood off of his face using his sleave.

Logan was quick to his side, examining his hands. Causing him to drop his papers and scatter them across the floor. Logan was talking as he cleaned Roman's hands before bandaging them. But Roman didn't hear anything. Just the ringing that echoed on his own ears.

You've really made a mess of things now...

That last comment tipped Roman over the edge, causing him to gasp out in pain. Nearly sinking to the floor if it wasn't for logan at his side, quick to help him keep steady. He tugged lightly at his sash, the pain quickly spreading like a burning fire.

The tug on his sash revealed the far larger black stain that had nearly filled the space behind his sash and was quickly spreading.

Janus and Virgil gasped. Horror seeping into there expressions as they realized what was happening to Roman. They were both quickly at Roman's side. The next thing he knew, Romans was sitting on the ground, struggling to breathe threw that pain. Virgil and Janus' hands held onto him comfortingly as they talked to him along with the others.

But Roman felt far-off at that moment. Like he wasn't in the room. Or as if he was a spectator, watching this unfold with an equally horrified expression. So he didn't hear a majority of what was said to him or the others.

"... Safe...ho-... Long..."

"...Roman?..."

"...-Breath Ro-..."

"...-man's falling..."

"...falling..."

Romans breathing grew more erratic once he looked down to see the black spot spiderwebbed out further, staining more and more of his once crisp white suit.

Then there was a hand in his hair and a few holding his hands and rubbing soothingly over his back and someone whispered calming words to him. Wanting him to follow there breathing. It was a struggle, but eventually, he managed to get his breathing slightly under control.

"-oman... Roman... You need to remain calm." Virgil said softly. Roman's head jerked as he nodded. Focusing on his breathing. "Do you know what's happening?" Virgil asked. Roman shook his head. "Your..." Virgil hesitated. "Your falling..." He said, "To the other side. So you need to keep calm and breath so we can help you..."

Romans heart figuratively stopped beating at the news. He was... Falling? Everything started to feel foggy and distant again. Like he wasn't there. He didn't want to be there. Sitting in front of the others. Vulnerable and in pain. Having the others watch his humiliating downfall. How low must they think of him now? How weak was he in their eyes? How pathetic was he in Thomas' eyes...

His chest suddenly shook as all the air seemed to leave his lungs. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He could vaguely hear Virgil's voice become more panicked and others began chiming in. But he was far to gone to understand it at this point. He needed to leave.

He needed to leave.

He wanted to leave.

He couldn't breathe.

He just needed to leave.

Leave.

Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave.

A rush of airbrushed past him as he managed to force himself to sink out to a far side of Thomas' mindscape where they would never find him.

He curled up into a ball, squeezing his nails into his palms, and cried in pain.

#roman sanders #roman angst #insecure roman #sanders sides angst #thomas sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #my fanfiction

173 notes · View notes

doomstypewriter · 3 years

Note

abt the last ask: u dont have to include it ofc (if u write it at all) but i thought id let u know that its based on the mental image i suddenly had of j climbing up to pats window, knocking on the shutters, pat pulling him in by his lapels and immediately kissing him (if you can even call it that with how hard theyre smiling) & then sometime later pat hearing like his dads footsteps coming toward his room as theyre making out so pat scrambles off his bf & shoves him in his closet (the irony)

Anon, finally, here you have it, but with a twist. This got completely out of hand, as per usual when I write anything. Since you were so nice (/li) to send me your request in two parts, I will actually break your prompt into two parts, otherwise, it’s never going to end. I hope you’re pleased by the first part, also, I am answering to this first because it matches the content of the first part.

Thank you so much for your lovely prompt! Hope you enjoy!

If anyone wants to be tagged for this let me know in a comment!

AO3

Chapter 2 >>

We call it an affair because it’s a forbidden romance

Summary: An encounter in the dark. The disdain of society. A forbidden romance. Royalty is involved and a title is at stake. Will an aspiring count, Patton Morandi and his rogue lover Janus overcome the barriers laid in front of them?

(We're in it for the drama)

---

“So long away and what I least expect is not you saving my life, but finding myself having missed your nonsense”.

“Is it nonsense when I make you smile like this?”

Word count: 3848

Pairings: Moceit, future Prinxiety.

TW: Homophobia, internalised homophobia, deadnaming a trans person, misogyny, mentions of religion, hopelessness, ideological things you would expect from the period (I'm not sure if there's anything else, but please tell me).

Chapter 1 of 2:

Balcony kiss

How the moonlight shone in its quiet dance with the nightly air. It was a mostly clear summer evening, the second day of the week-long festival. The sounds of music and colourful lights could be heard and seen from the distance, but gradually decreased as a certain thief made its way across the gardens of Villa Morandi. For certain, the head of the family would not be excessively happy about the entire ordeal, but no disgruntlement could come out of those things of which one has no knowledge of, and Janus surely intended to keep his entanglement a secret.

He crossed the bushes and jumped over marble balustrades expertly, careful to avoid the lights of the servant quarters, where their residents were reading themselves for departure.

“Signor Morandi seems to be in good spirits lately, it is fortunate that most of us can leave for the festival”.

Any news about the man was something worth listening to, given his situation, so he decided to stay and see if they mentioned something useful. Also, he, admittedly, enjoyed gossip.

“Loretta! Don’t be such a bragger in front of us!”

“Why? I’d say the only one lamenting not being able to go is you. You should be ashamed for dragging poor Virginia in with you to make yourself sound less self-centred”.

Janus silently nodded.

“That is not true! I am merely trying to make the newcomer feel welcome! And here you are making her feel excluded, who is now in the wrong?”

Weak retort, wannabe-partygoer, he thought.

“Va, va…” the other maid answered dismissively “Quit holding her like that! Don’t you see she’s uncomfortable?! Povera bambina”.

“Come on Virginia, don’t you think it’s a waste for such a wrinkly woman to be let out instead of us?”

“Who are you calling old?!”

“You did, but now that you so kindly brought it up, you are old! Turning wrinklier by the second!”

Alright, at this point, Janus could not help but be rooting for Loretta, going for the old card was the low-hanging fruit.

“I may be your senior, but I promise you that regardless of that nonsense about wrinkles you’re babbling I’m ten times more fair looking!”

“Ah!” she exclaimed with feigned indignation. “Can you believe her? She’s delusional!”

“Well then, the delusional one will not search for a man at the festival, such a pity I will not be introducing anyone to you this week!”

He smiled at the comeback. Way to go, Loretta.

“Loretta! Just because you had the luck to get engaged doesn’t give you the right to rob others of their chances. Don’t be so mean, I’ll apologise if I must”.

“Alright, but never dare call me wrinkly again, for you will owe this old woman when I find you a husband. Virginia, I can help you too if you want it, I know plenty of young lads who would love to…”

“Oh, no, I’m not really interested”.

At this point Janus had quenched his thirst for amusement and begun to lose his interest, having more pressing matters to attend to. But, one new comment made him reconsider the usefulness of his eavesdropping for longer on the ladies’ conversation.

“That’s right, Loretta, don’t you see she’s here on official duty. To suggest for her to slack off with men… ts, ts… “

“Oh, you shut up! Don’t fret, Virginia, dear, I should have remembered you were sent for an urgent matter”.

“True, true! Tell us if you can, is it as they say? Was her ladyship done in by pirates?”

“Elda! Such crude language, you dare call yourself a lady, how can you say something so insensitive?”

“What? You want to know as badly as I do, besides, if it is true, then there is no changing it, and if it’s not then it’s fine, as her ladyship is still alive”.

“I’m so sorry, Virginia, just ignore her”.

“Don’t worry. As far as I’m willing to say, her ladyship still lives but I cannot disclose any further information”.

Oh.

No.

When one spies on others, bad news exists as a possibility, but, usually, in the form of getting caught. This happened to be worse. Being spotted? That he could deal with. Having his heart ripped out after one stellar month? Not so much.

He ran.

Not from his problems. More or less towards them.

The marble balcony seemed as unreachable as ever. A sense of dread loomed over his thoughts, while a mix of feelings, now turned into urgency, settled in his heart.

Raising a hand Janus willed his trustworthy companion to fall from the nightly skies. Meanwhile, he began to climb the walls of the manor. There was an undeserved elegance in his motions, not becoming of such an honourless goal, and, nevertheless, fitting for a thief like him.

The hawk swept inside the room from a window and cast the doors to the balcony open.

Janus promptly grabbed onto the bass of the marble balustrade. One month ago he had received news of something that would simplify his life. He knew he should not care, it was going to end poorly no matter what. But, rereading two months worth of love letters and hoping for an uncertain future, he could not help but feel happy. That made his resolve to return in time for the festival.

From the room came a sound of rushing footsteps.

Three months of yearning to see a face again.

That image made Janus more desperate, and, in his haste, he committed one fatal mistake. His grip on the marble slipped. At a thirty feet height, the ground beckoned him.

But, just when his doom seemed so certain, he was caught by the front of his cape and safely gathered against a pair of lips.

With such smiles stretching their faces, it could barely be called a kiss. But, the intensity of the affections behind it rendered the notion meaningless.

“My love”, Janus muttered as they parted ever so slightly.

“You scared me, silly. I miss you for three months and when you’re returned to me I almost lose you for good”.

“Let’s be happy you were there to catch me”.

“Thank the Lord, and if He wills it, I will always be”.

“I ought to be grateful to you, my dear, not the ones above” he answered while stepping to the safe side of the balcony.

“Well, our poor feathery friend can’t be too happy about that” Patton laughed dismissively, gazing at Janus’ hawk.

“You’re right. I neglect to show my gratitude, perhaps you could give me somewhere to start?”

“Oh, but how can I hand you my room, my sweet, the stones of the house are too heavy!”

“So long away and what I least expect is not you saving my life, but finding myself having missed your nonsense”.

“Is it nonsense when I make you smile like this?”

Janus laughed in delight.

“Let me make you smile in turn, then”, he said, whilst extending his hand.

The touch of Patton’s palm felt like a warm pressure through the barrier of his leather gloves. Perhaps all of his interactions were as imperfect as their naked hands not being able to meet. Janus’ fake gallantry, their hopes, may be short-lived in the face of change. But, for now, he would rather enjoy pretending.

He pulled Patton to the inside of the alcove.

“Are you refined now?” Patton laughed.

“Of course, I have always been. Whatever could lead you to ask such a question? If I were to be a thief, which I am not, I would be the most honourable”.

There was a certain amount of delight to be found in catching his lover in the midst of changing into his night robes, judging by those being laid out onto the bed’s ostentatious covers. Despite such a degree of luxury surrounding Patton, he still refused to task any servant to dress him. What was there not to love about the man?

Patton made a motion as if to hold his hands, only to surprise him by pulling his gloves off. Any other person, and it would have been a display of sensuality, coming from him, it was like movement turned into honey, perhaps a mixture of both. Indeed, there was everything to love about him.

Maybe not all. Janus dreaded to admit how deep in he had allowed himself to be for this man.

A fool for a good man.

His hands felt the light night coldness in their grip on the linen shirt. Janus almost wanted to chastise himself as the thought of kissing away the kiss of the midnight breeze came to mind. He hid in the curve of Patton’s neck, sliding his lips along it, feeling like a coward whispering a lie. Countless lies. Telling himself this was enough, that he could bear the thought of this man taken away from him by a woman, that the thrill in this forbidden form of vice was not his worry taking yet another disguise.

“Oh, you’re a thief alright”.

“Is there something of yours I happen to have taken?” Janus retorted with a vague tone of amusement.

Patton cradled his left cheek in a firm request to see his face. Who was Janus to deny him?

“You know all too well you have”.

Oh.

“Well, that would make two of us”.

Patton’s expression melted into more honey. It always made Janus unsure as to whether he had made a mistake, no matter how unfounded the doubt was.

“Thank you” the words rebounded in proximity against the other’s lips. Janus didn’t know Patton could also be cruel.

“A little sincerity never hurt anyone”.

“You are not anyone” he smiled softly.

“Then make the pain up to me”.

Both their lips made contact like a wax seal on a letter. Janus pushed Patton against a low piece of furniture. From how the other fumbled, he could tell a corner was pressing against him. Despite the sting, Patton still committed himself to their affections. If that wasn’t a metaphor for their relationship Janus didn’t know what it was. Janus knew Patton would disagree, of course.

It seemed that exchanging one piece of furniture for another, the bed, would not be possible. Someone was knocking on the door.

“Janus…” Patton panicked in a hushed voice.

“Not a problem, my dear, this is my speciality” he smiled at him.

Janus’ feet almost flew over the carpet, muffled by the Persian fibres and his expertise on avoiding the parts of the floor that creaked. He turned the key of Patton’s wardrobe without the distinctive noise most people couldn’t avoid. Luckily for them, he wasn’t most people. The door mysteriously closed itself from the inside. Janus could swear to hear Patton draw a breath in wonder as to how he had done it.

“My son, let me in!” a voice came from the corridor.

“On my way, father”.

The mule-like bray of the alcove’s door hinges Janus detested preceded the sound of a set of footsteps he knew and loathed just as well, if not more.

“Were you reading yourself for bed? Ah, do not answer, I can already see your night robes over there. How many times need I tell you, call the servants to dress you, it is unbecoming that you do not. Moreso with the status you are to acquire”.

Janus almost scoffed upon hearing it.

It wasn’t that Janus outright looked down on Signor Morandi. He certainly held an admirable reputation and an even more admirable wealth. He contributed to the church, upheld his honour, was a patron to a few talented artists and did everything expected from someone of his status. By societal definition, he was an outstanding man. But, he could never understand Patton. Yes, Patton’s behaviour in public also stood to scrutiny. He was a young man to be admired, for sure. Yet, it somehow mismatched any other person’s strive for reputability. Patton lacked this performative quality, eagerness, if you will, that he found time and time again in people.

At first, Janus struggled to comprehend it. Everyone had desires outside of the strictly polite, they either pretended they didn’t or tried to hide it, that’s why they paid the church, after all. Janus didn’t believe people made an effort to actively align with the global canon for morality, just to look like it or deceive themselves. This theory on society made it so when he met Patton he simply dismissed him as a try-hard, later to relabel him as self-deceiving. Maybe he was a victim of his own biased cynicism.

As they grew closer, he started to get the whole picture. To his surprise, Patton tried to get his desires to align with what he perceived as morally correct, sometimes failing miserably. Janus’ presence in his room didn’t qualify as a success by society’s criteria... Patton’s effort to be ‘good’ did not come from a place of wishing to be perceived as such. Patton didn’t want to look good, he needed to be good. A good man. The realisation was hard to process but true.

Once he understood that, Janus could not let go. It stands to reason that, if that kind of person were to earn his affection, someone like his father would awaken his spite. Signor Morandi had simply never made an effort to understand his son’s motivations, unlike Janus. If he was a cynic, Patton was a victim to his own good intentions.

“I do not understand”.

“Lady Renata Regio is alive”.

“Oh”.

“Yes, it is most fortunate, you will no longer have to stay inside and miss the festival”.

“Well, father, I am not sure if that is appropriate, her ladyship must be feeling poorly after such a horrid experience. Perhaps it is best if I stay in and promptly send a letter to help soothe her”.

“Patton, it honours you to be willing to put the weak’s suffering before yours, but it is not needed in this case. You do not have to concern yourself with her. I am afraid that she is safe and sound on the account of having planned her own kidnapping. Lady Renata Regio has joined the pirates bringing disgrace upon her family, the wretched woman”.

Yes! Janus thought. Neither the wardrobe nor the entire room could contain his joy at hearing it.

“That is most unfortunate, should I reassure her family that I do not hold any resentment towards them?”

“It would be no good, there is going to be a scandal!” Signor Morandi sounded too happy.

Janus could not help but to smile a little.

“Are we going to pursue any retaliation?” Janus almost saw Patton shudder in the tone he used. “I do not think it necessary, it is a matter of marriage, although important, there are many other options that--”

“Yes, there are many other women to pursue, that is the spirit! In said spirits, I must inform you of the most wonderful news I have just received”.

What?

“Today a trusted servant from the Regio estate arrived at our home”.

“Yes, Virginia Fusco”, of course, Patton knew her name. “I personally received her, she refused to tell me exactly why she was sent here, also insisted to wait to talk to you”.

“Precisely, well, it turns out she is the personal servant of Lady Romina Regio”.

“The eldest of the twin daughters of the Regio?”

“Indeed. Let me be frank with you son, the Regio know they cannot keep the true actions of their lesser daughter hidden forever, a rumour is meant to surface eventually. This is very unfortunate for them, I have heard they were planning to match Lady Romina with a higher member of the nobility. Her sister’s actions have ruined her chances, it is unlikely that whoever was to marry her will accept such a union. My son, you know I always have your best interests in mind, Lady Renata Regio was a fine choice to provide you with connections to nobility. In turn, her family would have got access to our wealth, which, after their losses in the war, they need”.

Oh no.

“This being the circumstances, they have to choose how to align themselves in the future and what would be more advantageous to the family”.

“Shit” Janus said under his breath.

“We are about to reach an agreement for a marriage between Lady Romina Regio and you. I need you to understand that, if you are to accept, you will have to face some troubles, at least initially. The rumours about Lady Renata’s motivations may taint your reputation for a short while and the Regio’s rush to marry off Lady Romina will raise more rumours”.

“What choice would please you the most?”

“Oh, Patton, you idiot”.

“The union could make your child a count, you could potentially obtain a title depending on how we negotiate with the family. It is my wish that you accept this marriage”.

“Will this bring honour to our family?”

“Certainly”.

“Then…” an air of doubt went through Patton’s voice.

Janus was debating whether or not to burst out of the closet, either to tell him to refuse or to scold him for not accepting immediately what was probably the best opportunity of his life.

“Of course I will accept”.

“You make me very happy and proud, my son. I will meet with the servant girl to send her back with a letter requesting to meet with Lord Regio”.

The words were spoken carelessly. Signor Morandi often did that around his son, not knowing how many times he had been overheard by him. He may be a great man by society’s standards, but he could never be a good man.

Janus slumped against the back of the wardrobe, surrounded by pieces of clothing he could never afford. There was a world in which Patton had refused. But Patton hadn’t been left a real choice, so he could find some comfort in knowing this thing between the two had to end due to him being backed into a corner. Better than having Patton’s morals come between them. That, he would never reconcile with.

This was better than before. Being cast away for something as mundane as marriage, no matter the useful connections involved, was one thing, being left for a countess, well, if that’s what it took to refuse him he wouldn’t complain too much.

He would have preferred a marchioness or a duchess.

He would have preferred to be the only thing standing in between Patton and kingship and still win.

He would definitely prefer it if Signor Morandi was to accidentally fall down a flight of stairs on his way to writing his pesky letter.

There was nothing like a fire to persuade someone, even a countess…

But Patton would be upset.

His hawk screeched from the roofs above. Then footsteps rushed to his side, followed by candlelight flooding the inside of the closet.

Patton had no right to look so humble yet so marvellous. Not even the warmth of the flame could rival with that of his gaze. A gaze that was his’, not of any countess. But, still, a gaze that deserved to become a count.

“Janus…”

Honey clogging up his ears, that was the shape of a whisper.

“I suppose”, he shook off the dust of his cape and held his head up with dignity, “this is when we part. I’d love to say it’s a pity, but we saw it coming. Guess it was nice to enjoy it while it lasted. I’m always a letter away, my dear, that countess of yours wouldn’t ever find out”.

This was the bitter taste of selflessness. He never understood how Patton enjoyed it.

Janus turned around, ready to make his merry way out of Villa Morandi or fall off the balcony properly this time. Suddenly, Patton’s armed chained the two of them to their spot in the room. Patton’s chest heaved pitifully in a mockery of a hiccup.

“I’m sorry. What was I supposed to do? There was no other choice. I didn’t wish to upset you. Please--”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He promptly let him go.

“I…”

Janus turned back to face him.

“You think crying will make this easier? Do you seriously think I enjoy this? I would gladly rob you of everything and have you entirely to myself. It is taking so much self-restraint to not get your father into a tragic accident, my dear. If anything, you’re making it worse by crying. I am doing this for you. Don’t you dare ruin the one honourable thing I will do in my life”.

“How can I pretend to be happy when you’re leaving?”

There were sparks of light encased in his tears. Something about their ironic beauty left him even more heart-broken.

“What am I going to do, then? I can be selfish to an extent, but I cannot take the rest of your life too. You’re being offered a title and a wife, all the things someone at your level could wish for. Don’t be more of an imbecile, keep it. It is already inappropriate for you to be seen with the likes of me, and it’s even worse with me being a man”.

“You’ve never cared about that”.

“But you do! Let resume, dear”, he tried to say in his most condescending voice. It didn’t sound even remotely like it. “You go to church each Sunday, you have five bibles just in this room and the most sincere good-samaritan complex I have ever seen. I know you can’t bear to live in sin”.

“I can’t bear to live without you either!”

Oh, Patton, you fool, silly, ridiculous man…

“What…” he felt as if he was going crazy.

A chuckle escaped through the spaces in between his teeth. Janus looked downwards and whispered.

“What are you saying?”

This self-consciousness, he had never felt anything like it before. Was he blushing?

“I love you… I know it’s wrong, so why doesn’t it feel like it?”

More honey. What a way for his plan to backfire.

“This is ridiculous, you should be concerning yourself with more important--”

Patton placed the back of his hand under his jaw to raise his head with such gentleness... stupid.

“Is it ridiculous when it’s making you cry like this?”

A compassionate man’s tears were not worth his. He had never been as sure as now that this was a mistake. Yet he longed for him more than ever.

“Of course not” he wiped away his tears feigning some kind of dignity.

As quickly as ever, he also pretended to regain his composure.

“Do you have any sort of plan for what you’re going to do next? Under pressure, you’re a terrible improviser, my love”.

“Well...I can’t let you go. I know as much. I should, for my family, father, my honour. But I will not. You’ve shown me that acting selfishly doesn’t make someone evil. I will find a way to fulfil my duty without giving you up, you have my word”.

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youarejesting · 3 years

Text

Forever (finale)

Rating: Teen and Up Genre: Mystery, Romance, Drama, Action, Angst, Paranormal. Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Summary: In Bightville there is never any nonsense, the scariest thing one might face is tripping at the roller-disco. But, when you move to the small town, crazy things start to happen. Suddenly people are going missing without any leads. It’s when your neighbor Seokjin goes missing that things get serious because now his friends suspect you!

Announcement: It’s the end and oh my gosh I love it...

[First] [Previous] [Masterlist] [The End]

“It’s been decided Jungkook and Jimin will head out quietly and try to find this opening, they will radio back if they find it, and then we will head out in teams of two” Seokjin sighed the man was looking tired the days in the spirit world was causing him to look more tired and withered.

“Wait so some of us have to wait here alone?” Hoseok said concerned he didn’t want to be one of the last, he would definitely be one of the members of the second team.

“We can’t all go at once there would be a higher chance of us being spotted and I don’t think we are all wanting to fight one of those things” Namjoon explained and they nodded.

The two boys got dressed holding their makeshift weapons and headed out walkie talkie in hand, their instructions to only use it when necessary. They moved quickly and quietly down the hall until they turned down the stairs out of sight. The group waited.

Half an hour passed and you sat in the corner laying your head back against the wall, something about this place sucked the warmth from your form. Yoongi slid down the wall pressing his side against yours to keep you warm.

You all almost ran out of hope when Namjoon spoke up, “there isn’t much we can do, until we hear back from them”

“What if we don’t?”

“Then we send another two out to find them or the exit”

“I hate this plan?” Taehyung muttered scuffing his foot through the dirt

“It’s the only plan we have?” Seokjin offered using his calm voice in an authoritative manner.

“Hey we found it, we are here?” a voice called over static “you need to get around the side of the house and into the cellar the doors are open and you take the stairs down and head through the web.

“Alright” Seokjin said “Namjoon and I will head out next, Namjoon will need to be careful so we will give him as much time as he needs to get through that web. I will wait near the entrance for the next teams to come along until we are all out”

The next too left and it was barely fifteen minutes before Taehung and Hoseok left kind of rushed.

That left you and Yoongi with Johnny who looked down at his leg wrapped firmly around a broken table leg.

“It might be easier to go without me” he scoffed

“Not like anyone really missed me anyway, the hardly even know me”

“You’re Johnny, you play the piano we had the same piano teacher, remember and you can draw really well” Yoongi scoffed “your family is worried and the school has been trying to find out where you went”

“We should get ready to go” Yoongi said helping you up off the ground. He handed you his jacket and you smiled at how his scent lingered in the fabric enjoying the calming effect it had on you. He took the two lapels and slowly zipped them together.

You two grinned helping Johnny to his feet and it was a slow process of traveling through the school and the streets towards your house. It was hard but you were keeping out of sight and traveling. They see the other group moving and Seokjin in the distance signalling for them to wait as Hoseok and Taehyung head through.

In their haste Hoseok tripped over your younger snot nosed brothers bike -the very same you stressed he clean up every day- bumping the web the two boys race through the web.

You knew they were coming and in a split second you three ran across the lawn, racing your best through the web with Seokjin helping Johnny through in front of you. You could hear them coming, the hands of the boys in the real world reaching out to pull you through the burrow between the worlds. When you felt something grab the jacket, your name softly spoken you turned to see Yoongi. He gave you a forlorn look and he pressed his lips to yours. He kissed you hard and pushed you into the arms. Running from the webs and the siren on the walkie talkie blaring as he ran further away.

The hands were pulling you through the portal and you were a mess of tears struggling, unable to see, you finally found the perfect guy, he didn’t expect you to fit the norms as he definitely didn’t fit them either.

You were in the basement of your home unable to see as everything was burned with tears, Yoongi’s voice came over the walkie talkie in a pant, he was running still alive, still fighting, “Y/n, did you get through?”

You sobbed scrambling across the floor to get the walkie talkie “I am okay, where are you, you have to come through. You have to get back here and come through -”

“They are filling the web, I don’t know how long we have ?” Jungkook said keeping this end of the web firmly pressed shut clawed arms busting through

“Shut it down” Yoongi said calmly over the radio “I am surrounded”

“No, I will go back in and fight them off” You hissed, the ache in your chest burning and tight making it hard to breathe “You promised”

“I’m sorry” He whispered

“You promised, we were going to see kingkong, you promised” the words were barely legible but he understood.

“I did promise, but maybe some other time love,” He took a shaky breath, “shut it down kook”

They ripped apart the objects around the crawl space in the wall effectively ripping apart the connection between the two worlds.

You were all found in the basement crying, your parents were confused and the police were called, you were all interrogated and you explained everything as it happened sparing no detail on the abnormal. That night you were inconsolable, crying in your bed, the jacket clutched in your hands the words ‘It’s okay not to be okay’, breaking you more.

The police wrote it off as drugs and judging from the injuries and the extensive amounts of mud and dirt on their clothes they assumed the group had ventured into the woods. For some cult business. It took a week before the investigation was called off, they found Yoongi’s boot on the edge of the river and called it an accidental drug related death.

The funeral for Yoongi was small, his parents weren’t upset rather annoyed, you heard them in the next room blaming him. “If he didn’t die, I wouldn’t be here” His father frowned

“I don’t know how he lasted this long,” his older sister hissed

“Can you believe they want me to pay $1,000 for his funeral, he doesn’t even have a body,” His father sighed

“Be thankful he was dumb enough to die in the river, otherwise you would be paying more” His sister called

“Where is that bastards mother?” He sighed “Why am I paying for him, I haven’t even seen him since we split, and yet here I am the one having to pay”

Biting your lip, you were grabbed by Namjoon who lead you out to Yoongi’s car, “we took some stuff from his house, before his family could throw it away and um, if there is anything you like please feel free to take it.”

You found a few shirts and jackets with some slogans that made you feel like he was still supporting you even when he wasn’t here. But it was when you came across a collection of cassettes that you pause in confusion, Jimin laughed. “Yoongi has a tendency to write songs about everyone he meets,”

You watched him fondly touch the cassette with his name on it, you pulled out one with your name on it. The letters written in such unique handwriting that was very yoongi, laid back but simple. Jimin pulled out another titled ‘a night with her and the boys’. “Try this one too, it might be good”

You took his recording system in hopes you could listen to his work in your home and feel that connection with him. Heading straight up to your room ignoring all distractions. Setting up the machine you began by slipping in the cassette and placing on the headphones.

It was beautiful, the sound was beautiful and the song spoke of your beauty, but when the chorus hit, the drums, guitar and synth came in and he spoke about your personality. You were laughing, he summed you up so well, you felt your heart swell in the last line.

What a bitch.

She’s hot and she knows it.

And I can’t stop thinking about her.

It had you in stitches. You switched the song over to ‘a night with her and the boys’ and you couldn’t help but cry, he told a story about noticing you and the feelings you were trying to hide. He sang about you coming clean of your emotions, said he would protect you even though you didn’t need it, that he wanted to hold you because you looked so cold.

The song ended but there was more space left on the tape, you listened for thirty seconds but their didn’t seem to be anything on it. You took the small microphone and spoke into the machine, “I don’t know um how this works, but I love you” Turning it off you went to the shower, when you came back it was running, the tape had reached the end. Rewinding it you played it through, again while finding something to wear to bed.

When the song reached the end, you had finally found a warm set of pajama pants that you matched with one of yoongi’s shirts. You buried your face in the collar breathing in the scent, you went to turn of the machine which was whirring. “I don’t know um how this works, but I love you”.

You were embarrassed quickly rushing to turn it off, “God I am so embarrassing,”

“It’s so nice to hear your voice, I love you too, are you doing alright?”

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vaire-gwir · 3 years

Text

Some Cat and Wolf fanfic I had in mind pt.4

I wanted to write why Aiden didn’t kill humans anymore, so here it is, I tried. At least it can’t be worse than that horrible attempt at smut, right? Right?

Everytime I think I’m finished with this I get new ideas and I have to write them or they keep me up at night. There is plot if you squint, still not canon, but as always, I hope it makes sense and you like it <3

Edit: Sorry I forgot the title, you wouldn’t believe how stupid I am.

***

Alps were a bit of a pain in the ass to kill, just like every other vampire. Tricky, loud, and cunning things they were, not incredibly dangerous but granted to give you a good rattle and one hell of a headache. Years ago, he shared his first kiss with Aiden after they cleaned a nest and now he thinks about it every time he's disposing of one. It's weird, cause who would think of sharing a first kiss in front of a pile of dead vampires, but it was one of his best memories.

Then again, the first time he told Aiden he loved him, the Cat was almost dead in a grimy cave, covered in blood, and Lambert was panicking cause the gash under his ribs was bad enough that no potion in the world would buy him the time to find a healer.

Toussaint didn't disappoint him: three days after arriving in Beauclair and he was already waiting for 200 easy crowns. The prospect of payment should be enough to lighten his mood, but his mind is elsewhere, namely on the black cat running around the garden he saw last night before entering the crypt where the Alp was praying on ladies and princesses. Another cat, another pair of stunning green eyes, another painful twist in his heart. He even asked the guard currently stationed outside about it and the idiot said there were no cats on the property, something about ruining the lawns or whatever, as if Lambert didn't see the animal with his own eyes.

It was the second beast with disturbingly familiar green eyes that he saw, and it's two cats more than what he had seen in months. Lambert wasn't even sure if he was hallucinating or if the boy was making fun of him when he said there were no cats. Maybe both. Is this what happens to people that go mad, they start seeing things, they hear voices, and next they're wandering in villages alone at night muttering nonsenses?

Is this what is going to happen to him, he'll start seeing cats with green eyes everywhere and people will pity him? He was already hearing voices in his dreams, this was just one step further toward insanity, and the path to get there looked suspiciously short.

Lambert picks himself and his headache up from the tomb and walks to the marble arch covering the entrance of the crypt, where an over-enthusiastic guard is waiting for him, hopefully with his money.

"So, is the beast dead? You must have been very brave!" Lambert would laugh if his bones weren't aching so much. He knows that look: he's too young to know that what witchers do has nothing to do with bravery. Even the night before with all his questions he made the job sound fascinating and charming, probably someone didn't explain to him the difference between Witchers and knights in shining armor. He was hoping to see a hero but all he got was a dusty, cranky and hallucinating witcher with the beginning of a headache throbbing in his skull. Not exactly the heroic stuff fairytales are made of. There was nothing charming about this life.

Lambert ignores the voice and grits his teeth at the sudden burst of light and sound that overwhelms him as soon as he steps onto the paved path that leads to the house. Being subjected to the creature's horrible shrieks and screeches for half of the night has his nerves fried and now everything is too loud and too close even if it's barely past dawn. He wants to hear nothing but blessed silence for the entire day or he's going to seriously hurt someone.

"I'm curious, have you been here before?" Lambert starts moving in the general direction of the mansion chasing the promise of quiet and the soldier scrambles after him. He's still staring expectantly, as if he thinks he's owed something.

It annoys him, that for one reason or the other people are gawking all the fucking time. He learned to disregard it with experience but he never fully discovered how to ignore the stares. His brothers get them too, and he knows for a fact that it often bothers Eskel, but for reasons unknown to him, Geralt never seems to give a fuck. He's slightly jealous of that talent. He'll see them next winter if he's not completely out of his mind by then.

When they finally leave behind the crypt where he just killed the Alp, Lambert has regained enough presence of mind to check the garden again, hoping to catch a glimpse of the black cat he saw earlier but it's like the feline has disappeared from the face of the earth.

The luxurious garden that surrounds the old house is perfectly still, the gardeners are not at work yet, the only note is the faint buzzing of birds. He tries to catch any sound or scent resembling the one he felt before but it's like the cat was never here. Probably he wasn't. What if there was no cat at all and his mind was just playing more tricks on him? He's not sure Witchers can go insane, he can't recall any lore on mad witchers, but maybe he'll be the first one, just his usual luck. He tunes out the noises around him, trying to detect a trail of the animal when the voice of the guard breaks his concentration again: "You have been here before, haven't you?"

Regular people seemed to have a hard time shutting up, he should know this after an entire winter with Geralt's bard, the Gods know he never kept quiet for more than 10 minutes unless he was sleeping. Maybe he even talked in his sleep, go figure. It's not like he asked Geralt.

"I've been everywhere. Listen, I'll take what I'm owed and leave. Got things to do." Lambert answers this time just to make him shut up. No one needs to know that the things he has to do include tracking down a disappearing black cat. That is if there was one at all.

"Oh, of course, you must be very busy. Here it is, though I think my Lord wanted to see you tonight, throw a feast for the Court, but if you insist you can't stay it's better to..." "I can't." Lambert takes the velvety pouch and stuffs it in his pack, eager to put some distance between himself and the rambling man before him. He knows all about feasts in Beauclair, he suffered through them enough for a couple of lifetimes already.

He's about to turn away when the guard exclaims: "Wait, I remember! You were working for Lord Launfal with the other Witcher, green eyes, very pretty thing, if I say so myself, you..." He makes a pitiful weak noise as he doubles over himself, words dying upon his lips as blood trickles from them. Lambert is on him in a second and pins him to the nearest wall, he's not thinking about anything except that he wants to hurt him. Before he knows, he's hitting him again and again, driven by some fucked up instinct kicking in cause this idiot is talking about his best friend and he has no right to do so, especially not in that way. He doesn't get away with describing the best person in his life as a pretty thing, not in front of him, not like that.

"Shut your damn mouth, you don't fucking know what you're talking about!" He can hear the faint sound of a bone breaking over the boy crying "Please," and "Stop," and spares a look at the bloody mess he made of his face. He lets go of him as if he's been burned and he sees the guard collapsing to the ground. He fucked up.

He feels like his mind is swimming and he can't focus on anything but the blood on his hands. He stares at the unconscious form slumped against the wall and takes a step back, streaks of red marking the gray stone. Lambert knows he went too far. His hands moved of their own accord when he realized that man was talking about Aiden. A pretty thing, he said. Lambert can't tell why those words were so painful, but it felt like pouring salt into an open wound.

Of all people in the fucking Continent he had to run into someone that remembered him, of course, he had to meet a guard that was here the last time he was in Toussaint with Aiden, cause apparently the universe, chaos and the Gods were having a field day of messing with him. Again.

He spares one more glance to the guard just to make sure he's still breathing, collects what he's owed and leaves in haste. When the boy wakes up and tells everyone what happened Lambert knows he won't be spared. He almost killed that stupid boy, not much he can do about it now. He just wanted him to shut up and stop talking about Aiden, the fucker didn't even remember his name.

He's past the iron gates when he finally manages to stop his hands from shaking. It scares him how dangerously good it felt for a couple of minutes to make the man shut up, it scares him to the point he just wants to forget it happened. For a short time, he felt like he had complete control over something, and that was rare for him. He enjoyed being in charge, knowing that whether that man lived or died was in his hands, it was like playing God and winning. It was like having a choice.

He may have a couple of hours before someone decides to hunt him down, which is plenty of time to find work. Before taking the Alp contract Lambert overheard in a tavern not too far from the market about an archespores problem in the valley where a certain Lord keeps his precious vineyards. With a little bit of luck he can go back to the main square and someone will point him in the general direction of this new Lord's palace. He just needs a few hours, and then he'll have the perfect excuse to stay out of Beauclair for a while.

***

Lambert prefers the nights when sleep eludes him, they're more peaceful than the ones filled with ghosts and blood, or as close to peaceful as he can get. He was never very good at meditating like his brothers, something about how his stupid brain would not shut up long enough for him to fall into a proper state of reverie. Both Eskel and Geralt never had any problem with that, he had seen Geralt kneeling in the same spot without moving until morning, absolutely unbothered by anything that happened around him, as if he was in his own world.

In a patient attempt to help him, Eskel told him once that meditation works better if you try to recall a state of peace or calm you already experienced and lose yourself in it. Peace and calm was not something Lambert ever experienced, at least not back then. Not before Aiden.

The room he's currently occupying is surprisingly comfortable, he even had a bath, but his brain still refuses to relax. Finding his next contract proved a little more complicated than he expected, he wandered around the narrow streets for a good while before arriving at the indicated house, growing more anxious by the hour, expecting someone to chase him down at any turn of the road. Luckily the man he found outside a heavily guarded black gate was the old farmer in charge of the orchard, and he was as eager as him to go back to the valley.

Lambert joined him on the trip, but he instantly disliked the place: whoever needed that much security was not just a simple vineyards owner. Thank Gods the old man was not the chatty type, and they reached the old castle in silence just before nightfall. When they arrived the farmer pointed to a small house next to the main castle, told him to find an empty room and disappeared immediately after. Lambert was grateful for the silence.

He washed the blood and the dust out of his clothes but he couldn't wash the feeling of it from his hands, his ears still ringing with the sound of some bone cracking as he hit that stupid man just for talking about Aiden.

Lambert feels weary and worn but it's not because of the vampire last night. It's not the monsters that tire him: killing is easy, but the rest, traveling, talking, living and functioning in a world where he has no place, it all leaves him drained, that type of bone-aching exhaustion that's beyond physical, it keeps you awake even if you're spent and it gnaws away at your nerves.

He still can't figure out why Aiden would go after (possibly) two griffins all on his own, the Cat was careless and a bit reckless but not completely stupid. He was pretty smart about his work, he had to be, all things considered. Aiden was the one that at the beginning insisted on how they should stick together just because some jobs were easier that way.

Besides, he was supposed to spend the last week before spring traveling north with the Caravan. There was no deep sympathy between Aiden and most of the other Cats, cause many were not particularly pleased with his decision to stop taking contracts on humans, but traveling together was still supposed to be safer. Lambert tried for days to put the pieces together but the more time he spends thinking about it, the less everything makes sense: Karadin told him he was there when it happened, but he finds it hard to believe he killed the two monsters all on his own.

Lambert remembers one winter Eskel and Coën went off to fight a pair of griffins in the mountains and they came back three days later, bloody and with a good amount of soon-to-be-scars that needed to be patched up immediately, a broken shoulder (Eskel) and four cracked ribs (Coën). He had seen what griffins can do to experienced Witchers, there was no way a Cat the same age as him disposed of two monsters like that without any serious injuries. He even had time to take the medallion! And if it was not just the two of them, how did Aiden sustain wounds that couldn't be fixed by two or three other witchers for the short time it took to get to a healer? Griffins were only dangerous to humans when they ventured past the mountains and closer to the villages, which meant they were not too far from the possibility of getting help.

His brain keeps churning an explanation, keeps conjuring up different scenarios but nothing he can think of leads to Aiden's death.

Lambert knows Aiden killed people too, but most importantly he knows why he stopped. They both found out very early in their relationship that confessing things in the dark, naked and hidden by the blankets, worked for them. They could say whatever was on their mind and come morning things were still fine between them, they could look at each other's in the eyes without shame, cause things said in the dark were like spirits disappearing with the sun, they couldn't hurt them anymore. The ghosts of their pasts and their fears had been there, and now they were gone, chased away with burning lips and soft touches. It was during one of those nights that Aiden explained why he couldn't kill humans anymore.

They were back at the inn after killing a striga but two innocents died and Lambert knows Aiden blamed himself, he could feel how shaken he was in the way his kisses were almost too harsh and he was tearing away at their clothes. Aiden tastes of something almost-burnt when he's angry, but much later, when Lambert hides his face in the crook of his shoulder, sore in all the right way even if he'll never admit out loud that Aiden fucks him even better when he's like that cause he's less gentle, the taste is gone, and only the honey remains. That's when he can start talking.

The Cat told him that he was fine with being considered a monster by everyone else as long as he didn't feel like that. He was just doing his job and it was not his fault people were too judgemental and prudish to accept that, it's not like he asked for a mage to play with mutagens and mess up his blood. He woke up one day outside of Stygga and he was too young to have any memories of how he arrived there.

He didn't remember his family, or where he was born, his first memories were of the Cat School, there was nothing before that. He liked to say he had no past, but everyone has it, and they're usually running away from it. And no future too, cause there were not many options for a witcher. Still, not his fault the same people he worked for, the same ones that begged him to get rid of a monster or paid him handsomely for killing a problematic cousin, were also the first ones to throw stones at him or ask a Lord to imprison him cause he was a danger for the town. Not so much of a danger when they needed him for their dirty deeds. But people were quick to forget and even quicker to point their fingers, and after so long Aiden couldn't find it in himself to care anymore.

He didn't feel like a monster just because they said so. But he certainly felt like a monster for killing innocents. He was taking away their choice just like a mage took away his. He was no better than the people he despised so much.

It all started when he was sent to kill Lord Darnay cause his own family decided he was no suitable successor to the name and heritage they represented. Aiden was presented with 1000 crowns to get rid of the unwanted heir, and he was not in the position to refuse. His last contracts were unsuccessful, he had run out of money weeks before arriving in town and now even his potions were running low. It should have been an easy job, kill a dumb Lord who probably never hold a sword in his life. It should have been easy, but that's not what happened.

Right after entering the royal chamber, Aiden faced a wide-eyed kid staring at him. He was no older than 7, maybe 8 years old, but he was not terrified, a little surprised yes, but not scared as everyone would be after seeing a stranger entering through their window. No one mentioned that this Lord Darnay was a fucking child! There was absolutely nothing in the world this boy could do to represent a problem, for anyone, he was barely old enough for school for fuck's sake.

The knife in his hand felt like lead rather than silver. The room was utterly silent, Aiden looked at the kid expecting him to scream, but he didn't. He simply said: "It's my turn now?" Aiden stared back disoriented, he refused to believe this kid understood why he was there.

"Uncle sent you?" His throat was not fully cooperating and he had a hard time finding the words to answer, he nodded, the dagger in his hand felt heavier by the minute. The kid sitting up on the huge bed keeps worrying a loose thread in the blue blanket above him, he speaks as if he's confessing a terrible sin. "He doesn't like me. He did something to my father but I'm not supposed to speak about it. Dad was very brave. Are you brave?"

Brave, as if! He was sent to slit his throat, that was not bravery. Brave means you have a choice, he never had one. He could choose between Ghouls and Bruxae and humans for his contracts, that's how far his decisions could go. He could pick whether to stay with the Caravan and risk being killed with his brothers or he could travel the Path alone and be killed by a monster or zealous townfolks. At best, he could decide how he dies, certainly not how he lives. No one with a real choice would turn into what he is or do what he does.

In that room with the boy, in the deep silence of the night with a sliver of moonlight illuminating their surroundings, Aiden felt like a monster. He hadn't felt that way in a long while. It was the first time he was sent to kill an innocent, all the others were different, he felt that the assholes he was sent to murder deserved to finally meet their fate. Not this time though.

A servant entered the room unexpectedly and held back the scream already on his lips. He frantically moved his gaze between the child and Aiden as he started muttering something about how Lord Havilland already killed his own brother. Finally, he understood.

He was sent to kill this kid so a rich Lord could become even richer and more powerful. He couldn't fake another hunting accident so he sent the Witcher to do his bloody job. Great, just great. Nobles and their obsession with money and titles, what did they even do to deserve all they had? Killed someone, won a tournament, led soldiers to be slaughtered in a war for a nameless King that didn't give a fuck about them? They had wealth, titles, castles, a legion of slaves and mages at their service, and yet it was never enough, they wanted more, more wealth, more slaves, more titles, more. Disgusting. They could be anything they wanted to be and yet they decided to be awful.

Aiden spared a glance toward the kid and decided right there and then that this kid was not dying because his uncle was an asshole. "Another one will come to finish my job, he can't stay here." The butler is faster than what he gave him credit to be and answered immediately: "I have a sister in Oxenfurt, she can take care of him."

"Go then. Get as far away from here as possible." True to his word, the servant took the child and was out of the door in a heartbeat, minutes later Aiden saw them riding past the southern gate. He didn't feel worse, at least and that will have to do for now. The kid will live to see another day. His uncle won't though.

#lambden #lambert x aiden #aiden x lambert #witcher lambert #witcher aiden #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #I lost a friend I lost my mind #still trash and not the sexy kind

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hiirunakaarchive · 4 years

Text

– to act in haste (3)

↳ Facts could never be disputed, but natural and insensible phenomenons like fate were fickle and ever-changing. Ethan hoped that maybe the outcome of this god-awful situation he was in right now could be fickle and ever-changing too.

↳ (pt 1), (pt 2), (pt 4)

◇ pairing: ethan ramsey x mc (haruna sakurai)

◇ genre: like 99.9% angst, 0.1% comedy (?) i hope that part of the story was funny man idk

◇ word count: 4.6k+

◇ tags: @aworldoffandoms, @perriewinklenerdie, @jooous, @senseofduties, @moteestro, @anything-but-reality

◇ author’s note: hey friends, i hope yall are staying safe and indoors during these strange times! classes have been moved online, so i’ve been writing and lo and behold –– part three to my series (which i finished a lot sooner that i expected :o) ! i was honestly writing this thinking it’d be the finale but the 10k word count was telling me smth else, so a FOURTH part is gonna be posted and THAT is gonna be the last one! also not to toot my own horn but i really, honestly, TRULY believe this third part is the best ive ever written, and i hope you guys like it as much as i do! like always, feedback is super appreciated and i’d be more than happy to add anyone to the tags! happy reading!

–

Dr. Ramsey was almost never wrong.

Almost.

And he hung on to that almost with a vice-like grip, that one in a million possibility that maybe this time, he could be wrong, and God, he had never wanted to be wrong so badly. But anyone with half a brain could put two and two together and figure out why his spiteful ex-lover stood in his office long after her shift had ended; white coat folded neatly and hugged against her chest with a sealed envelope at hand. Yet, despite knowing fully well what that letter being slid across his desk meant, he dared to challenge the inevitable truth. To let himself hope—

I could be wrong.

He took it in his hands carefully, and tore the envelope open.

Let it be wrong. Let it be wrong, let it be wrong, let it be-

”You’re resigning.”

He read it slowly and steadily, gathering himself with one long breath and the last sliver of calm he could find.

Over the course of the year, Haruna Sakurai had become some sort of a celebrity in Boston’s exclusive world of health care professionals, dubbed the perfect model to emulate in all aspects of being a doctor. She was as kind as she was intelligent, but unflinching in her righteous principles and a terrifying force to be reckoned with.

She was Edenbrook’s most valuable asset, yet the letter of resignation laying open on Ethan’s desk seemed to taunt him in ways that delved beyond a professional context. He regarded it hollowly, absorbing the great loss her departure would serve to the hospital, but also let his mind pathetically wander to the thought of where her resignation would leave the both of them.

It was silly and stupid, because they weren’t even romantically involved anymore. That tranquil period where they sat across from each other in comfortable silence, danced in his kitchen until they realized breakfast was burned, talked and laughed until they couldn’t breathe – it was such a distant memory that Ethan was convinced that it was nothing but a dream.

It didn’t matter because she was slipping from him anyway.

“Losing you would be quite a blow to the hospital, Dr. Sakurai. Is there anything that would make you reconsider?” He had to be impartial.

Convince her to stay. For the hospital, not for yourself, you selfish prick. No more of this lovesick nonsense.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, and it was deplorable. The year Haruna spent on the fellowship had changed her. She stood taller, spoke louder, smiled wider, and Ethan convinced himself that losing her was a trivial price to pay for the success she so deserved.

Haruna had grit her teeth and accepted his twisted gift, abandoning that whirlwind romance they had, and as compensation, acquired invaluable knowledge that no one could pry from her cold dead hands. She had so clearly moved on, thus, there was nothing left to do but for Ethan to make peace with it and follow suit.

“I’m sorry, but my mind is set. It’s a...career move.”

Yet why did he still insist on making her stay?

“A career move? Dr. Sakurai, you do know that you’re employed at one of the best hospitals in the United States.” He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, and she rolled her eyes at his statement of the obvious.

“Of course I do, but our partnership with Panacea Labs has them trampling on every standard and principle that made Edenbrook one of the best in the first place.”

“I hate saying this as much as you hate hearing it, but that’s not something we can change.” Ethan sighed as he rubbed his temples.

“I know, so I’m leaving before it disappoints me further.”

“Life in and of itself is a disappointment, Dr. Sakurai.” he argued. “We-“

“I’m going back to Japan.” She blurted.

Haruna bit her lip, bringing a hand to her face like it was a secret she meant to keep and just as suddenly as she said it, Ethan’s world stopped all at once. The clock that hung just above the entrance to his office stopped ticking. He saw Haruna’s lips moving as she continued to speak, but couldn’t hear a thing. Every joint in his body seemed to have froze and gone numb. Dead silence enveloped Dr. Ramsey to the deepest part of him that it could dig.

Dr. Sakurai’s confession rang in his ears like a siren, and Ethan wanted nothing more than to make it stop. The loss of what they had stung him to the point that he almost clutched at the imaginary ache of his chest, but despite that, he carried on. Seeing Haruna was never easy, but the dull sting at the sight of her served as a very real reminder that she wasn’t just a dream. That there once existed a period where Ethan loved a woman so much that he was no longer himself. She was real and tangible, and as long as she remained so, Ethan fooled himself into thinking he had a chance and the luxury of time in fixing what seemed to be irreparable.

You can’t fix this anymore.

That cruel realization slapped him back to reality.

“-y parents are encouraging me to come home and work in their hospital. I’m hoping that it can offer me new and invaluable insight– Dr. Ramsey are you listening?”

Ethan lifted his gaze from the envelope on his desk and met her eyes. He stood from his office chair and planted his hands on the surface of the table, leaning forward.

“I’m listening. And what insight, pray tell, can the Sakurai Medical Centre give you that Edenbrook can’t?”

The tone of his voice adopted a subtle bitterness to which Haruna raised a brow. She uncrossed her arms, imitating Ethan’s pose and setting one hand parallel to his on top of his desk.

“It’s a new experience.” She responded impatiently, “A more challenging setting.”

“In the hospital that your parents own? How could that setting ever challenge you the same way we do here?” He continued to prod.

“In ways you couldn’t possibly hope to understand. Are we done here?”

“Not until you tell me the real reason why you’re resigning, Dr. Sakurai. You’ve made a name for yourself in this city, you’ve accomplished what thousands of doctors wished they could at your age. How could you leave that all behind?”

Here they were again, arguing, God, they were always arguing. Both of them were far too proud and far too stubborn to swallow their pride and back down. The only thing that seemed like a capable reminder to keep things civil was the mahogany desk that kept them mere inches apart.

She placed a hand on her hip and leaned closer across the table.

“I think you’re taking things too personally, Dr. Ramsey.” Haruna accused.

She was close. Too close, and Ethan swallowed hard and realized he could never win against her.

He looked away, in denial. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Haruna scoffed.

“Really? Then look at me and tell me that I got this far so early into my career because of my own hard work. Tell me that every doctor in Boston would know my name even if you didn’t use your position to land me that spot on the diagnostics team even though I was in fourth place. Face it, Dr. Ramsey, you don’t want me to leave because it means that everything you did was for nothing.” She spat.

Ethan threw his hands up in aggravation. “Sakurai, this isn’t about me, god damn it! This is about you compromising a perfect career that–”

“You don’t know what it’s like!” She yelled, her voice resonating across the room.

The sudden raise in volume took Ethan by surprise, and he bit back a response as Haruna scowled in an attempt to calm herself.

“You have no idea what it’s like...walking into that room everyday with doctors like you, June and Baz, and knowing that I’m not even supposed to be there. I come in here and see you and am just reminded that every bit of success I have now is because you loved me. Too damn much, if you ask me.”

“You want to know the worst part of it all?” She laughed despite herself. “Acting like I didn’t enjoy every minute of that fellowship, when the truth is that I relished in it. I spent this entire year resenting you yet basking in all this knowledge and these opportunities that you gave me. Then I’d come in the next day and hate you a little less than I did the day before. One day, I woke up and realized that I probably never even hated you at all. If anything, I was...grateful.” She cringed as she said it, then looked at Ethan with contempt.

For the first time in a long time, it wasn’t directed at him, but at herself.

“Do you get it? I can’t keep working here, because the mere sight of you is proof that I’m just as greedy and self-serving as bastards like Declan Nash, and I’d sooner die than become a doctor so disgusting. If I can’t bring myself to hate you, then...” She trailed off and looked away, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

The revelation was all too much for Ethan to process, and his mind was riddled with questions. For over a year, he’d wake up in a cold sweat from nightmares of how she regarded him with immeasurable animosity. Was she trying to tell him that, that too, was a facade? A tense muscle in Dr. Ramsey’s jaw relaxed as he asked her quietly,

“Are you running from me, Haruna?”

“If I am?”

They looked at each other in a moment that seemed to end all too quickly, and the weight and meaning of what she said dawned on the both of them. Her eyes widened at the proclamation she mistakenly let slip and Dr. Sakurai snatched her letter of resignation from Ethan’s desk, starting towards the door.

“Never mind. Forget it.”

For a moment, he considered listening to her. To let her go like he’d always done. Every time they spoke, she always ended up leaving anyway. Ethan persuaded himself into believing that she was better off without him, but–

You are never going to have another chance after this.

And he realized, that the moment he let her leave that room, everything would really be over. He’d have to live with the regret of never having taken that final opportunity to mend what they’d both thought was unmendable, or at least try to. Would she have also wished that he’d tried to stop her?

“Wait...I said wait!”

Ethan bolted towards the exit, and Haruna froze in her tracks as he slammed the door back shut as she was about to leave. Her back was to him and his arm remained situated on the wooden surface, inches from her head.

“I need to know, Dr. Sakurai,” He breathed,

“Do I still mean something to you?”

Ethan heard her sharp intake of breath, taken aback by his sudden inquiry. Cautiously, Haruna turned to face him and that calm air of hers that always seemed so natural now looked like nothing but a brittle front to hold herself together.

“You do.” She admitted.

“I still love you, Dr. Ramsey. So much. I’ve loved you all this time but I-“

Her breathed hitched, and like a dam, she, and that distant and unbothered facade she was so adamant on maintaining, collapsed. Her cheeks were wet with tears and Ethan’s face fell as Haruna buried her face into her hands. He willed himself not to hold her.

She wouldn’t want you touching her. You don’t have the right. You don’t-

But against his better judgement he took her in his arms, and the solace he felt with the familiarity of this woman’s warmth, who seemed so small trapped against his chest, overwhelmed him with emotion. It had been so long since he last touched her, and both Ethan and Haruna knew that it may very well be the last. So he held her. He held her the way he wished he could have in the year that they didn’t speak. The way he should have held her from the start. And she let him.

He wasn’t sure if he could ever embrace anyone else the same way ever again.

“God, Ethan, where did we go wrong?” She sobbed.

He rested his chin gently on her head and didn’t respond, because he knew that nothing he could say in this predicament that they were in– no, that they’ve been in, would console her. Dr. Sakurai’s shoulders shook uncontrollably as she cried, and Ethan felt her go slack against him, holding her tighter as he lowered the both of them gently to the floor.

***

She was in his arms for the next hour. Sixty minutes of pure silence, apart from her weeping, and Ethan could do nothing but comfort the woman. He looked up at the ceiling as Haruna sniffled, and couldn’t remember the last time she had let herself be so vulnerable in front of him.

“We can’t be together like this.” She finally spoke, her voice raspy from the crying.

“I-” Dr. Ramsey began, ready to argue. He knew better though, and sighed as he leaned his head back against the wall. “I know.”

“Good. So you know that you have to let me leave, then.”

He stayed silent in an attempt to avoid the question. Of course he knew that, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. If he did, he’d be acknowledging that this was for the best; and more often than not, the right decision wasn’t always the easiest.

“Haruna, I...” He started in protest, but paused as he felt Dr. Sakurai’s hand slide up to rest on his cheek.

He looked down at her, and wondered if he was being too transparent. If she could see how broken he was at realizing the choice they both had to make. She sat up a little straighter, still in Ethan’s arms and rested her forehead against his. Then she asked him quietly. Pleadingly.

“Please, Ethan.”

How could he ever say no to her?

So he responded wordlessly, tilting his head and bringing his lips to hers. Haruna met him halfway, and a year and a half of fierce self-restraint and inexplicable pining for the feel of each other erupted all at once. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer by the nape of his neck. Ethan cupped her face in his hands as he kissed her, softly at first, but every second that passed with her mouth on his summoned a tide of longing that he forced himself to keep latent all this time, and it only urged him to kiss her harder.

“I love you.” He groaned against her mouth. “God, I love you.”

She merely smiled at his reckless confession, holding him by the lapels of his coat until, Ethan, breathless, forced himself to pull away. He brought a finger below her chin and tilted her head up to look at him. Her eyes were red and swollen from the crying and her hair was disheveled from the moment of passion they just shared, but Ethan couldn’t recall ever being in love with her more than he was in that moment.

“Haruna, marry me.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. She looked like she was going to say something in protest, but Ethan continued in order to validate his outrageous request.

“Not now.” He interjected. “You’re going to go to Japan, and become the best damn doctor they’ve ever seen. Your success will be your own, and no one will ever remember that you were ‘The’ Ethan Ramsey’s protege in the first place because you’ll become someone a hundred times better.”

Dr. Ramsey pushed himself off the floor, and pulled Haruna up following that. Her eyes had begun to shine with tears again, dangerously close to falling, and Ethan held her face in his hands. He offered her a comforting smile, but he wasn’t certain if it was meant to reassure her, or to hide his own brokenness.

“Then, if these god damn stars ever choose to align for us and we see each other again, however long that might take, we’ll get married. Is that clear, Rookie?”

She laughed through the tears.

“Crystal, Dr. Ramsey.”

––

Dr. Haruna Sakurai departed for Japan the following week. No one knew of her resignation except for the diagnostics team, Naveen, and her closest friends from intern year, so Ethan remained unbothered at the gossip that rang through the hospital when one day, she had stopped coming to work and no one knew why.

After that evening where he vociferated that almost childish marriage pact, Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Sakurai failed to have another chance to speak. He was busy with his own doctorly duties and Sakurai was preoccupied with tying up any loose ends before she left for good. They’d merely pass by each other in the halls and their interactions alternated between a subtle smile, a curt nod, or a discreet brush of the fingers.

When Haruna accepted his poor excuse of a proposal, Ethan thought he’d convinced himself that it was going to be alright. That things would turn out fine because they parted on good terms and with the knowledge that they’d made the right choice.

So he had to pretend, and to an extent he never did before.

Pretend like he wasn’t heartbroken at the fact that she didn’t say goodbye.

Pretend like he wasn’t just as surprised as everyone else when he came to work and didn’t hear the sound of her voice by the nurses’ station like he would everyday.

The feigning of indifference had embedded itself so deeply into his routine that Ethan believed it was real. He readopted his strictly objective nature, like how he used to be before he met her, and just like that, his world went numb and grey.

“I’m worried for you, Ethan.” Naveen sighed as he sat across Ethan’s desk, genuine concern written all over his face.

Dr. Ramsey didn’t bother looking up as he flipped through applications for the year’s new batch of interns. “We have hundreds of patients to treat and a budget cut that still needs to be solved. I’m not who you should be worried about, Naveen.” He replied dryly.

“My shift ended twenty minutes ago, my boy,” Dr. Banerji chuckled.

“I’m not here as administration, I’m here as your friend. Now tell me, why are you acting this way?”

"Acting what way?” Ethan quipped, setting down a folder to give his mentor his full attention. “I’m not any different from the last twelve years we’ve been working together.”

“Completely and wholly devoted to your job, I know. But in the past twelve years I’ve known you, you’ve never been so...” Naveen rested his elbow on the armrest of his chair as he pondered for the right word. “Anesthetized?”

Banerji eyed Ethan carefully, almost strictly.

“You’ve always been a workaholic, Ethan, but never to the point that you neglected your own health. You’re a walking contradiction as a doctor.”

Ethan knew he was right. If there was anybody in the world that he could never win against in an argument, it was his mentor and his mentee. The three of them were an elite trifecta with a unique bond equipped with boundless knowledge, and Ethan swallowed hard as he remembered her for the first time in the four months since she left.

After coming to terms with her resignation, Ethan thought that their parting satisfied him enough to live on happily and assured of their love for each other. But the following week of being deprived of her presence and being reminded he might never see her again made Dr. Ramsey realize that it was stupidly naive of him to think so. This was nothing like the two months he spent in the Amazon, because he didn’t have that certainty of her greeting him when he inevitably came back. He was unsure of whether the stars really would align for them like he suggested, but certain that he’d never love anyone the same way he loved her.

He drowned himself in work and almost stopped coming home. The bags beneath his eyes had grown so much more prominent, and four months of this self-negligent lifestyle had aged him more than twelve years of working as a doctor of internal medicine ever could. Of course Banerji had been the first one to notice.

“She’s there everywhere I go, Naveen.” Ethan confessed, unable to keep it to himself any longer.

“Can’t even leave this damn office and grab a coffee anymore. I ordered my usual roast at Derry’s, and you know what happened? The barista snuck me a free espresso Romano! Told me, ‘for the other pretty doctor,’ and I almost lost it.”

Dr. Banerji stared in disappointment at his own pupil’s oblivion. He had given him too many invaluable lessons to count, but the one thing he never succeeded in helping Ethan understand was the importance of subjectivity. That sometimes even the most logical and calculated decisions were no match against the fickle loyalties of the heart.

“Answer me honestly, Ethan,” Naveen dropped all hints of playfulness.

“Do you regret letting her leave?”

–– FIVE YEARS LATER

“Do you regret letting her leave?”

When Naveen asked that question, the answer popped into Ethan’s mind shamefully quick. Accompanied with that epiphany, his world, the one that went numb and grey, began to scream altogether. The imaginary pain that once pricked him frivolously like pins and needles hit him all at once and burst into flames. Shallow incisions made to his heart with every thought of her and what could have been, transitioned into relentless, deep cuts that came at a pace faster than he could heal.

Over the course of five years, Ethan stopped trying to fight it and left his heart to be mangled by the regret.

“Yes, I regret it.”

Today marked his seventeenth year of working at Edenbrook, and Dr. Ramsey had lost count of how many batches of interns had come and gone. He still thought about her occasionally, when he’d see her friends in the hospital or at midnight in bed and alone with his thoughts; but time had done a fairly adequate job of healing that wound. Five years in retrospect didn’t seem that long, but it was enough for Dr. Haruna Sakurai’s face to blur and drown into the deepest recesses of Ethan’s mind.

“He’s so freaking fine, but I swear he doesn’t have eyes.”

Making his rounds, Ethan’s brows furrowed irritably at the interns he caught gossiping in the hall. He tucked his clipboard under his arm, more than ready to reprimand them until a calloused hand caught him by the shoulder.

“Shhh. I want to know what they’re saying about you.” Ethan turned his head just enough to see that it was Dr. Lahela.

He never expected to grow close with one of her brother-like figures, but him and the surgeon spent too much time together at the gym, and Ethan grew fond of the younger doctor more than he cared to admit.

“You know Dr. Tremaine? The pretty one with a sixteen thousand follower count on Instagram? She asked him to dinner and he just walked past her like he didn’t hear anything.”

“You did not turn down Dr. Tremaine.” Bryce covered his mouth with a hand, feigning shock and Ethan retorted almost immediately with his own dry humour.

“I think you forget sometimes that the thought of your best friend still torments me.”

“Right. Sorry.”

They turned back towards the young doctors, so deep into their conversation that the two didn’t even bother hiding anymore. Ethan leaned against the wall patiently as Bryce cleaned his stethoscope with an alcohol wipe he dug out from his pocket.

“Dr. Castillo’s brother did his residency here too, and rumour has it that Dr. Ramsey actually had a fling with an intern from his batch a couple years back.”

“Shut up. She must’ve been so hot if she could make Dr. Ramsey budge.”

Ethan leaned over to Bryce, unsure of why he was even following his request of keeping silent.

“My ears are bleeding, Lahela.” He aggressively muttered under his breath.

“Wait, they’re getting to the good part. You know how I love hearing Haruna’s praises sung– wait, Dr. Ramsey!” The surgeon’s voice faded as Ethan ignored his plea, beginning his march towards the rumourmongering interns.

“–Super hot, super smart, and super scary. Apparently she punched Declan Nash in the face once.”

“Shut up! Who is she?”

“You know the one from the last issue of Times? Like, total medical prodigy? Asia’s top doctor who-”

“–Turned her parents hospital into Japan’s top research facility, I know the whole deal. What about her?”

“So, like, she used to work at Edenbrook right? Apparently-”

“You two, interns!” Ethan barked down the hall.

“Dr. Ramsey!” And his terrifying approach was drowned out by Harper Emery’s own voice and the loud clicking of her heels as she rounded the corner.

Complete, utter fear settled into the young doctors’ eyes as they realized that they were in the company of Edenbrook’s most skilled and accomplished staff, one of whom they were gossiping about. Their gaze darted between a cool and collected Harper, and Ethan, who was very visibly seething, and found they could look nowhere else but the floor.

Harper and Ethan rekindled their friendship following Aurora’s transfer to Mass Kenmore. Harper realized that she wanted the fellowship more for Aurora than she did for herself, and thanks to the younger Emery distancing herself from Edenbrook and her aunt’s legacy, the women were closer now than they’ve ever been before.

“We need to talk.” Harper demanded, despite being aware of the tension.

“It might have to wait, Dr. Emery, I’m in the middle of something important.”

Harper stepped towards him and spoke in a voice low enough that only Ethan could hear, her tone demanding his full attention.

“Dr. Ramsey.” Harper repeated, more firmly this time.

Ethan sensed the urgency in her voice, and looked between his friend and the interns. Exhaling once, he shot them one more infuriated look before turning back the way he came and following his colleague. Ethan eyed Dr. Lahela expectantly as him and Harper strolled past.

“You're up, scalpel jockey.” And Bryce smiled excitedly, closing his eyes and getting into character before storming down the hall.

“Coffee must be one hell of a drug if I’m seeing not one, but two interns chatting ‘til kingdom come while they’re still on the damn clock! Both of you, names!”

Harper failed at containing a smile. “You’re a horrible influence, Ethan.”

He shook his head, repressing his own laughter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That pupil of yours wouldn’t leave me alone until I showed him the ropes of...what did he call it, ah– oral persecution. So what was it that you wanted to tell me?”

“You and Dr. Hirata will be in attendance for a medical conference in Kyoto as Edenbrook’s representatives.”

He nodded in response, continuing to look straight ahead as they walked. “Hmph, like always.”

“And Dr. Sakurai will be present as the keynote speaker.”

#choices #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey fanfiction #choices fanfiction #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

Note

For the prompt; maybe something like Regis reassuring Geralt of his humanity after some asshat human is "witcher-phobic" towards Geralt?

First prompt complete! I’m sorry that you get the initial “How does writing work again??” offering, anon lol

Varying Words

Pairing: None, unless you want to read it as Regis/Geralt ;)

Warnings: One passing mention of rape

Word Count: 1,504

***

Stand your ground.

Geralt did, allowing the projectile to hit him square in the back of his head. The attacker's aim wasn't bad and based on the clang he heard as the object fell to the cobblestones, he had strength too. When a second assault didn't immediately follow he turned, expecting a blacksmith or maybe a dock hand.

It was a woman. Arms sculpted from labor in the fields and sporting an inch more than was common in Novigrad, she hefted another cooking pot, teeth bared.

Not bad, he thought. Put a knife in her hand and she'd be a formidable foe. Although... knives likely weren't far behind if that dishware was any indication. Geralt held his hands at the level of his hips, well away from his swords.

"Not here to cause any trouble, ma'am," he said.

She spit. Geralt watched the yellow wad strike the toe of his boot. "Fuck off! Your kind don't need to want trouble to cause it. Years I worked for that coin! Bastard witcher took it off me, then had the gall to go get his neck ripped open by a bunch a' nekkers. Can't even reach his corpse now and whose fault is that, huh? Not mine!” She inched a little closer, voice shaking. “What's the point of you anyway? Some experts. Some heroes. Come into my kitchen, Witcher. Let me introduce you to the light of our Eternal Fire by smashing you face-first into the oven. It would improve your mug I'll tell you that!"

He stood impassive as the speech progressed, feet rooted to the ground. It seemed the only thing that kept the woman from leaving the safety of her doorway was her husband's hand curled tight in her sleeve. Compared to her he was a slight thing and he flinched when Geralt met his eyes. His brothers would have scoffed at the fellow's weakness, but Geralt was grateful for whatever strength was keeping his wife at bay. There was no scenario in which Geralt wanted to defend himself from a woman lost in grief.

The morning had gone so well too.

What he did want was to make her understand that the man she'd hired had not been a witcher. No son of the Schools would ever accept coin before the job was complete, for just such a reason, and only one who was truly inept would fall to a nekker nest. It had likely been a fool who'd had dreams of bringing back trophies for a tidier sum. Either that, or a swindler who'd paid someone to come back with news of his supposed demise. Either way, a couple's life savings were gone, monsters still roamed, and his reputation had taken another lash it didn't need.

"Get out of here!" she screamed.

Rather than listening, Geralt turned back to the woman who'd been standing beside him when this all began. "You okay?" he asked. he extended his hand to help her up as he would for Yennefer, or Ciri, or Regis, Triss, Jaskier, ZoltanRocheLambertEskel —

She slapped it away, then made a show of cleaning that hand on her dress. "Don’t touch me.”

Like the first. Skirts still hiked up over her waist. Vomit down the front of her blouse, shrieking her head off... I did that. Not the men who’d raped her.

Me.

With a growl Geralt stepped around her and took a vicious satisfaction when they all scuttled back. Within seconds he had the street to himself. The only thing that bothered to followed him was a final insult, shouted once they thought he was too far to do anything about it.

"You're the monster, freak!"

Geralt rolled his eyes at the heavens, Eternal Fire included. "Real innovative. Never heard that one before."

Novigrad was the city of sin though. Each person had a secret and every alleyway its shadows. Within seconds Geralt had crossed into a crowd that didn't care about the shouts from a few feet over. Why would they? They had their own lives to live and provided no one got in their way, everyone was free to do exactly as they pleased. It was comforting in its way and by the time Geralt reached The Kingfisher he'd lost a bit of the tension in his shoulders.

Head still smarted though. He'd reached up to massage his skull when cold hands batted his away.

"You're late," Regis admonished.

"Am not. An' I'm fine, leave it."

The tutting sounded right beside his ear. A moment later Geralt felt fingers press against a sizable bump with unerring accuracy. He hissed.

"Two lies in two seconds? Really, Geralt. If you'd like to slip one past me you'll have to do far better than that. Perhaps work first on eliminating that mulish expression?"

"Oh fuck off."

"Eloquent as always."

The banter did little for his mood. It took more than a well-aimed pot to fell a witcher, but that hardly meant he had to enjoy the experience. After a few seconds Regis' movements changed from a surgeon's clinical examination to a friend's, weaving fingers through silver strands merely for the comfort of it. They settled on the low wall outside the inn.

Geralt shook him off. Regis just hummed a low note in the back of his throat.

"Come now. Don't tell me you bought into that woman's nonsense?"

"You heard?"

"Indeed. My hearing is rather more acute than yours, though I confess I only caught the tip of the confrontation. I had assumed that you would leave post-haste as I did, more interested in our lunch than whatever swill she chose to spout. Was I wrong?"

Regis rarely was. Geralt leaned against the wall of the inn and let his gaze slide over the vampire. An aging face, gray in his hair, brown eyes and a welcoming smiling—provided he kept his lips closed. The irony was that Regis more easily passed for human than Geralt did.

"Sure you still want to dine with a monster?" he asked. The look he received could have melted a glacier.

"Tell me, Geralt. Why is it that I can repeat the same truths to you for years on end and they apparently fail to pierce your astoundingly stubborn nature, yet a few unfounded remarks from a stranger will sit with you for days?"

"Don't know. Maybe I respond better to crude truths. Less scholar, more drunkard."

"Oh? Shall I simplify my language then? Perhaps laden my points with the occasional expletive?"

"Couldn't hurt."

"Very well then: Geralt of Rivia you are not a fucking monster."

Geralt threw his head back and laughed, a short but boisterous exhale that drew looks from the passerby. Regis reached over to pat his knee.

"Had I known that getting you to listen merely required that I change my speech patterns I would have done so long ago."

"Now who's lying?"

Behind them the inn was blaring despite the early hour and Novigrad buzzed with thousands of voices, all clamoring to be heard. Geralt tried to focus on a noise other than the ringing in his ears, swallow the sour taste in his mouth so it didn't ruin their meal. He worked to remember the laugh just seconds after he’d given it.

"Besides," Regis continued. "You needn't take my word for it."

"Oh?"

"Your own actions defy those fools' claims. Or did I not see you deliberately allow yourself to get hit rather than risking that woman's pretty features?"

Never let it be said that Regis wasn't often right and observant. The two probably went hand-in-hand. Yes, he could have dodged the pan, but that likely would have resulted in a bloodied nose for the woman behind him, gaping at all the drama. The same one who'd fallen when the blow had teetered Geralt too close, shying from his touch again with the slap of a hand. He understood the point, of course. What monster took a blow for another? Weren't they the real monsters here, driven by indiscriminate hatred? It was a debate he and Regis had engaged in numerous times before, often during lunches just like the one they had planned for today. The one they'd begin if Geralt ever stopped moping about it all.

He could have said any of this, a coded thank you for his friend's wisdom.

Or...

"You think she's pretty?"

"Geralt."

"No, no, I'm happy for you. You should really get out more. How many years since the Queen of the Night? Two hundred?"

"Geralt."

"I didn't catch her name, but I'm sure I'd recognize that look of disgust. We could probably find her, if you're really going to abandon me, that is."

Regis slipped his arm through Geralt's, easy as you please. "As if I ever would."

"No?"

"No. I fear you're stuck with me and I do not care what anyone else might have to say about that. If we are monsters than at least we shall be monsters together."

Well, who was he to argue with that? For that matter, who were those women?

Geralt let Regis pull him to his feet. “Lunch with a monster sounds great.”

#witcher #Regis #witcher fic #rape tw #Anonymous

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thatsaweirdwaytospellundead · 3 years

Text

Mankai’s 5th Mixed Troupe Play: Yin Yang Midnight 1/ 3

This story takes place during the Heian era-- The extravagant culture and lifestyles of the wealthy elite are coming to an end as murmurings of a mysterious Onryo begin to spread through the court.

Then suddenly, an unexplained plague begins to sweep through the streets of the city. The epidemic moves swiftly through the royal court until the emperor himself falls ill.

Characters

Sakyo as Abe no Seimei

Azuma as Kou

Citron as Geppaku

Guy as Hisui

Explanation of terms

This story is heavily based on traditional Japanese religious practices and thus some Japanese terms will be left to preserve the meaning of the story. I have also included links to wikipedia artists explaining the terms if you would like to read more.

Heian Period: Japanese era that lasted between 794 - 1185 AD.

Onmyouji: A person who practices “Onmyoudo”, a spiritual practice common in Japan during the Heian Period. Onmyouji were responsible for keeping track of calendars, performing rituals, etc.

Onmyouji Bureau: An official department in the royal court made up of Onmyouji who served the emperor.

Onryo: A vengeful spirit that returns after death to cause chaos.

Shikigami: A spirit companion that is summoned by an Onmyouji to help with tasks. They can possess animals and use magic, however it takes a lot of strength from the Onmyouji to control their Shikigami properly.

Due to the length of this play, I will be posting it in 3 parts

[ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ] [ Part 3 ]

Onmyouji Chief

Seimei, you heard about the disease that is spreading through the city, right?

Seimei

I have.

Onmyouji Chief

Well there’s only one other person who knows this but...

The Emperor has fallen ill.

Seimei

--!

Onmyouji Chief

But if this got out to the rest of the imperial court, it would definitely incite a bunch of useless panic.

There would probably be a power struggle if this news got out that the emperor is in critical condition.

So, let’s pray he recovers from this.

You should go perform a purification ritual immediately.

Seimei

Understood.

Seimei

Cleanse the heart, cleanse the body

Kou

Leaving all the grunt work to you again? Tch.. Typical.

Despite your efforts, you know they are just looking for someone to scapegoat, right?

Seimei

Don’t say such things, Kou!

Kou

Yah, yah, whatever.

Seimei

Kou

..... Something’s coming.

Seimei

Make haste, follow my command!

Kou

Too bad, he got away.

Seimei

..... What’s the meaning of this?

Kou

Were you even listening to me? This is all just busy work.

Seimei

The Emperor’s life is in danger.

We must hurry!

Onmyouji Chief

It’s an Onyro you say? Don’t be ridiculous.

There are no gaps in the boundary of the imperial court.

If that were the case it would mean one of our fellow onmyouji has turned on the great emperor himself.

Completely impossible.

Seimei

Well...

Onmyouji Chief

Seimei.

Was this your plan all along? To put the blame on some so-called Onryo as an excuse for why you couldn’t complete the purification ritual?

No matter how hard you try, you’re still as conceited as ever.

Seimei

-- I wasn’t trying to make excuses for--

Onmyouji Chief

Then step down!

Let someone else handle the ritual.

Seimei

...

The Onmyouji Bureau tasks Abeno Seimei in charge of holding the purification ceremony in order to cure the emperor. However, during the ritual, Seimei encounters a troubling sign that convinces him that the plague sweeping through the imperial court is the work of an onryo. Seimei then sets out to find a way to exterminate the spirit from the court.

Seimei brings his findings to the head of the Onmyouji Chief and is met with laughter. Without the support of the Onmyouji Bureau, Seimei struggles to continue his investigation.

Kou

You don’t need those shitheads. They’re gonna realise they were wrong sooner or later.

Seimei

I doubt it.

If we don’t take action now the damage is only going to get worse.

Kou

But those higher-ups at the Onmyouji Bureau got their eyes on you so there’s no way you can just move around freely.

Seimei

But Kou....

I can’t just sit back and watch!

Kou

You work too hard. Hope you don’t regret it.

Seimei

I don’t care about all that nonsense, just tell me what you found.

Kou

I told you already. The barrier surrounding the imperial court is pretty strong, so strong I doubt even we could break through. An onryo could never slip through.

Seimei

.... That’s just like what the Onmyouji Chief said... Right?

Geppaku

Master Seimei.

Seimei

-- Geppaku? You came back!?

Geppaku

I got here yesterday. Sorry I didn’t write you sooner.

Seimei

I see, long time no see!

Geppaku

You look happy as ever, I’m glad!

Seimei

Same for you, Geppaku.

You look just as healthy as I imagined.

Geppaku

Thank you so much!

Even far from the city I caught wind of some rumors.

Seimei

Guess even I couldn’t stop that.

Geppaku

What’s with that blank expression? Did something happen?

Seimei

You didn’t happen to hear about a mysterious plague sweeping through the city, did you?

Geppaku

Yes, I heard no one knows where it came from.

Seimei

I’m afraid it is the work of an onryo.

Sadly I just couldn’t catch it myself....

Geppaku

Perhaps maybe I could lend you a hand?

Seimei

Really?

Geppaku

I don’t really know if I could do much, but I’ll do whatever I can to help, please let me try.

Seimei

What a lifesaver!

With you at my side, Geppaku, there is nothing we can’t do!

-- Kou.

Kou

You called?

Seimei

Please enlighten Geppaku on the curse of the vengeful spirit.

Kou

Ehh, I’m kinda not feeling it right now.

Seimei

Excuse me, this is not a question of whether you want to do it or not.

Kou

Fine, whatever.

Geppaku

Hehe, what a quirky shikigami you got there.

Seimei

I don’t know how I put up with him, really.

Geppaku

On the flip side, he definitely seems pretty strong!

That’s the Seimei I know!

Seimei

You too, Geppaku.

How goes your training? You have to tell me all about it later.

Geppaku

I can’t say I am as nearly as adept as you, Master Seimei.

Seimei

What are you saying? Surely by now our skill levels are almost even.

Seimei is at a loss of what to do when an old student of his, Geppaku, appears. Geppaku is a foreign boy and because of that, despite his strength, was unable to enter the ranks of the Onmyouji. Geppaku returns to Seimei after he had left the city to continue his training.

Geppaku volunteers to help Seimei and from there the two begin their investigation into the cause of the epidemic. However, Seimei’s shikigami, Kou, does not seem to like Geppaku much and acts coldly toward him. Seimei does not seem to notice this, however. Towards the end of their research, the pair hear of another happening outside of the town that could be related to the so-called onryo. The duo make haste to the scene.

Seimei

So this is where all that commotion about that onryo was coming from?

Kou

This is right about where the first case broke out.

And also around the same time of day.

Seimei

I don’t really know if there’s any relation, but it’s definitely something to look into.

Villager

’s there somethin’ I can help ya with?

Seimei

You didn’t happen to hear anything about an onryo sighting here, have you?

Villager

Ah well ya see...

I was pretttyyy drunk one night,

‘nd I saw it riiiight here. A big ol’ ball ‘o fire flew up and I tripped at this ‘ere stone and whaddya know a will-o-wisp came flyin’ out!

It had some kinda creepy glow.

I got quite a shock and nearly poo’d my pants.

I dun remember a thin’ after dat though.

Seimei

A rock, huh... Seems like such a childish prank for a ghost...

It makes me kinda worried.

I have never heard of anything like this before, let’s look it up, Kou.

Kou

Hey hey, isn’t that something a little heavy for a Shikigami?

Seimei hears about a sighting of the spirit from a villager who encountered it during a drunken evening. Intrigued by the story, Seimei tasks Kou to see if there are any similar stories from inside the city.

After looking into it, Seimei realises this spirit is not just a simple prankster, but in fact a strong force that could even penetrate the safeguards placed around the city’s borders.

To be continued... Read part 2 here!

#a3 #a3! translation #エースリー #play:yin yang midnight #c:play #a3:azuma #a3:sakyo #a3:guy #a3:citron

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purple-nana · 4 years

Text

Barriers

Part 3 ( Part of the Dorm of us Series)

1.8k Words

Warnings : Cursing, violence, assaulting, mentions of fighting/ beating someone

The silence of the place was making Jaemin lonelier. It has been at least 10 minutes since you left, but he felt like an hour has past as he sat at the place where you left him. Wiping his tears that keep on betraying him, wanting them to stop falling down his cheeks.

He sighs. He knew it was his fault that you got upset and left him behind. He didn’t even know why he opened that topic to you, knowing that you were still sensitive of what happened in the past. He should have just shut his mouth then the two of you will still be here talking and laughing about nonsense things.

He looks behind him, wishing that your silhouette will appear. But he saw nothing, no one was approaching him. It looks like you have completely abandoned him and went on your way to go back to the dorms. He stood up, feeling defeated. He went on his way to follow your tracks. You might still be walking, he wanted to catch up to you so that he could apologize for his behavior.

He absolutely can’t take it if there was unsettled matters between you two. He fastened his pace.

As he was walking, he reflected about the words that he have said to you earlier. In all honesty, he was completely unsure about his feelings as well. With that, he was quite confused on why he had said that to you.

He doesn’t know if he was just nostalgic or was he still in love with Miri. Facing the fact, how could he possibly still love someone who left him behind?

Jaemin shook his head, disregarding his thoughts. All he have to do now is to catch up with you and-

He wasn’t looking at his steps, making him crash unexpectedly with a woman.

“Ah!” He quickly reached for the arm of the person. He reacted in such a haste, causing him to stumble and grab the waist of the girl.

They met each others eyes. Jaemin look deep in the girl’s hazel brown orbs. He knew those eyes. Realization hit him as soon as he recognize the girl. Noticing their awkward position, Jaemin let go of the girl in a swift move. The girl instantly fell and hit the asphalt road.

“Ouch, hey!” The girl looked furiously at Jaemin, but her expression immediately softened when he saw who he was.

The girl stood up, wiping the dirt away from the tight dress that she was currently wearing. Her features having a full face of make up, high heel shoes and a tight dress. Jaemin was already aware of her destination.

“Long time no see, Jaemin.” The girl gave him a seductive look, biting her bottom lip.

Jaemin wanted to puke at the sight of her. Annoyance invaded his mind, poisoning his opposite thoughts about her earlier in the night.

He gave her a unbothered smile. “Hi, Oh Miri.” His tone lacks life as he speaks those words.

Miri chuckled. “It’s been years since we last met, why give me the cold shoulder hm?” Miri utters while playfully hitting his arm.

Jaemin rolled his eyes and took a glimpse at his wristwatch.

“Sorry I gotta go.” He says, leaving the scene in a hurry.

Miri grabbed his arm stopping him in his attempt of leaving.

“Can’t you spare me just a minute?”

Jaemin gave him a bored gaze and sighed. He placed his hands in his pockets, waiting for the remarks of his ex that he was sure he will not pay attention to.

But instead of saying something, she handed her a call card.

“Let’s talk when you have time.” Miri beamed him a smile and left.

Jaemin looked at the call card, then at the disappearing figure of Miri in the distance. Confusion struck him but he decided to shake it off, continuing his path back home.

‘Well that was a odd encounter’ Jaemin thought.

He made his way back to the dorm, he was already close. He just needs to cross one alley. A strange alley.

This particular alley was very dark during the night. There was only one street light, and guess what? It’s broken and keeps on malfunctioning. It’s literally a blinking light now.

Jaemin has arrived at the alley and he was passing by it already. There was dead silence as he passes by. A grunt echoed through the silence which startled Jaemin, making him stop in his tracks. He looks around, trying to find the owner of the grunt.

A pained groan soon followed, and sounds of what seem people talking. He followed the noise silently. He found himself standing at the entrance of a street connecting to the alley. The voices of the people talking sounded clearer. He hid himself behind a wall and decided to listen to the conversation.

But instead of a conversation he can only hear pained grunts and screams. So, he carefully peeked at the side of the wall, giving him a clear view of what was happening.

“Hey, give me your damn fucking money!” A tall man shouts at another man who was laying down the rather disgusting ground. An arm wrapping around his stomach, as he tries to get up with his other arm.

“I told you I don’t have any!” The man shouted back. The voice color of the man was surprisingly familiar to Jaemin. However, because of the street light that was out he cannot see the face of the man.

The tall guy laughed along with 3 more guys around the laying man. He kicked him in the stomach, making the attempt of the man to stand up fail miserably.

The tall guy sat down to grab the man’s shirt, pulling him closer to his face.

“What do you mean you don’t have any?!” He screams furiously,“You? An heir to an heir to a million dollar company, the son of the richest man in the country. Doesn’t have any?” The tall guys chuckles, then he punched the man in the face.

“You aren’t playing games with me you fucking idiot,” He stands up,”For the last damn time. Where is the money?” He asks in a calm tone.

The man grits his teeth. “I. Don’t. Have. Any.” He replies, pronouncing each word in anger.

The tall man gave him a menacing look. “You know what to do boys.” He said seriously then took a step away from the man, letting the other guys to step up. They were cracking the bones in their hands and rolling their necks, preparing themselves to torture the man beneath them.

Jaemin closed his eyes as a series of grunts and groans echoed through his ear. He was about to walk away, he didn’t have any businesses with the people there so he thought of leaving. He didn’t want another strange thing to happen in his night, knowing that he might probably have a past with the in need.

However, he can’t bear the thought of leaving someone who he can help. And then again, he has a hunch that he might know the person who is in distress.

Jaemin thought he had enough eavesdropping and taking 2nd thoughts. If he really wanted to help that person, then it was time to take action.

He stood at the entrance of the street, and as if on cue the street light beamed it’s light at him. He rolled his neck and mentally prepared himself, it’s been a while since he fought, he was positive that he was still in shape for fighting.

The man closed his eyes as he was about to get punched when Jaemin’s deep voiced echoed through the street.

“Hey asshole! What do you think you’re doing?” Jaemin says, raising his eyebrow. He put his hands in his pockets as he makes his way deeper into the street. The men looked at him in confusion.

The tall guy, who seems to be the leader, stepped closer to Jaemin. Stopping a meter away from him. Jaemin kept his eyebrow raised.

“What do you care, do you want to die?” The tall guy replied at him. “You don’t want to be like him don’t you?” The tall guy lets out a cocky smile as he points to the man. Jaemin examined the man that was spread out on the floor.

He has bruises all over his face, a hand still wraps around his stomach as he struggle to keep himself from wincing in pain. He continued to observe the man’s features. His eyes shook as he recognizes the man that is in front of him.

“What? Do you want to join him?” The tall guy caught his attention back. Jaemin lets out a chuckle, cracking his fingers.

“Not if I finish you first.” He smiled teasingly at the tall guy. The tall guy went in for a punch, but Jaemin skillfully avoided it. The man got shocked, he went in for another punch. Jaemin was too quick-witted for it, avoiding it as he kicked him in the chest, making the tall guy sprawl on the floor.

The tall guy got up. “Why you little!” He ran to Jaemin. Jaemin just smiles as he watches the tall guy come at him. He was about to be given a painful looking punch in his face, but Jaemin can’t have that. His face was far too precious for him. He grab his arm and flip him over his shoulder.

He went over the guy and punched him, also kicking him in the process. “So, do you want to die now?” He says in a daunting tone.

‘N-no! We’ll leave, we’ll leave!” The tall guy pleaded. He stood up immediately and called his ‘gang’, they ran for their lives. Jaemin just laughs at the scared men running away from him. His gaze went back to the man who was still laying on the floor.

His eyes still closed, with tears continuously falling out from them. Jaemin went to him, he sat so he could communicate easily with the guy. He stared intensely at the man in front of him. The man breathes heavily, he was struggling and is in agony.

The man was about the same age as him. Probably a few months older than him or so. His face clearly shows that he is in pain. He helped the man sit up.

“Hey.” Jaemin spoke with a gentle tone. Hoping that it would ease the feeling of the man. He still couldn’t believe it, he has so many questions. Never did he thought that he will see him, in this situation too.

The man slowly opened his eyes. Hoping that the person in front of him will not hurt him. But instead of feeling frightened, he got surprised by the presence of the one person he never thought will save him in a situation like this.

Jaemin gave him a gentle smile.

"I didn't expect to see you here." Jaemin looked down as he lets out a tiny chuckle. He returned his gaze to the man who was giving him a stunned look.

“Long time no see, my friend" He stops before saying his name, giving him a knowing smile.

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floralbrain · 5 years

Text

Notes from a Transgender Man

My birth name is Vicky, but I am most proud of myself that I had had the boldness to step up against my fears, and forge my path to the Leo I had always been, but I have to admit to you that it had been a very difficult and winding road. All my life I had been told that I have to wear dresses, pinky bow ribbons. I had been told that I have to lengthen my hair, that I have to sit with my legs folded, that I have to soften my tone of voice, that I have to work on presenting myself femininely. All my life I had felt like there was something tremendously wrong with the way I am. One day, I was at the amusement park with my parents, and there was a sandy playground where a group of boys were working together on building a gigantic castle. I heard something inside of me telling me to join them, but I was highly reluctant, afraid, and anxious. Of course, I fixed a long gaze at them and was on the verge of tears. What frightened me was the reaction of my parents when they would find out I was playing with the boys. Hours at the park had passed, people were coming in and out, and I was the only isolated, miserable kid there with nothing to do but staring and longing to fit in. Yes, I had an intense feeling and longing to fit in, but I just couldn’t. When I hit 6 years old, I knew there was something utterly different about me, but I just didn’t know what. I remember a very atrocious incident I had to experiment with suicidal thoughts at that age. On a gloomy Sunday evening, I was in my room, the lights were off, and the curtains were shut, so the room was very dark. I was listening to some depressing classical music until a thought hit my mind. Suddenly, I turned off the music, went to the kitchen, and bought a cutting knife to my mother from there and commanded her to kill me. Yes! I was that much depressed that I wanted to end my life for good. My mother stood still like a motionless electrical pole in awe and didn’t say a word. Unfortunately, that is how most of my childhood was spent – in depression, anxiety, and feeling so alienated that sometimes I had a strong desire within me to take my life. My schooling life was far worse than anything else in the world. I was the source of fun to many, and it was all due to my appearance. I was constantly being targeted merely for looking different. People at school would often ask me if I am a boy or a girl, and every time they would ask me this question, a shiver of terror would run down my spine, my heart would start pounding, I’d start trembling and sweating. I had never known at the time how much gender dysphoria could generate severe symptoms of mental illness. My parents, of course, were still not so understanding of what ailed me, and I was the victim of an ignorant, and coarse-minded environment where middle-eastern tradition and a barbarous common mindset were the most prevalent and dominant amongst us. My dear readers, do you know how much I am suffering? I know you are not dysphoric. I know that life has given you the most substantial privileges that I was never, and never will be endowed with. In my eyes, and as self-absorbed as it sounds, I think that the pain, self-loathing that I bear within me is immeasurable. I don’t think that you have ever been afraid to look at yourselves in the mirror, and you never will be. I don’t think you have ever been frightened by the thought that someday you will grow a chest. I also don’t think that you have any problems. You all are a bunch of comfortable people, and I yearn for the day to avenge myself on you all. Whenever I am taking my daily stroll in the neighborhood, and I look at the pedestrians, the feeling of spitefulness arises inside of me. I just feel sorry for you all. On the other hand, I feel sorry for myself. Why am I like this? Why have I come into this world as a transgender man? What am I here for? Why do I exist? Yes, a large amount of questions visits my tenebrous mind. The problem with me is that I am an overthinker added to the fact that I am transgender, which makes me even more of an overthinker. I overthink what is happening, what had happened in my past life, and what would happen in the future. You see, my dear readers, I had endured so much that I have a countless number of stories to tell you. I had gone through a lot of hardships, a lot of suffering, which compelled me to be strong. I believe that the fact that I am transgender had played a great role into my eagerness toward over philosophizing life in general, and so much indulged into analysis and critical thinking. I am the kind of individual who rejects to conform, to abide and obey, to follow the flock of sheep. Although I am 21 years of age, still young, and pre-assumed that I am naïve, but trust me, I use my free time to educate myself, to widen my life perspectives, to broaden my knowledge. I am still in the stage of building for myself a foundation, so I can hopefully pluck the fruit from the tree. I am sorry for babbling this much. I know all I do is speak nonsense. I over-speak, but I am just in love with my pen. I love speaking of myself to myself. I know I have bombarded you with my pessimistic spirit, but just imagine being in my shoes. I have been deceived by puberty. Do you know how ugly that is? I was not expecting this. I was never planning for this. I had always been a man, had always been Leo, but the thing is that my body does not match with Leo. It’s as simple as that. My body is my greatest imprisonment, and it’s killing me. I want to move on to something personal, something very personal, which is my chest. I want to tell you all of a little story that occurred to me when I was very little. So, when I was 5 years old, my uncle was at our place. Shower time had arrived, and Mother told my uncle to assist me with my bath. While he was rinsing me, he told me that one day my chest is going to grow bigger. I was in complete shock, and the moment after he had told me this I had erupted into hysterical cries. I remember very well that my anxiety had intensified to the point where I started to sham sickness in order to prevent going to school. I had pretended to be ill for three months, and stayed home because I didn’t want to be seen by anybody. When I would wait for the school bus, anxiety attacks would hit me hard, and I’d just fold my hands across my chest because I didn’t like the thought that one day it would never be flat as it used to be. I am sorry I know I nag too much, but that is the consequence of living almost my entire life with gender dysphoria. One day, it was recess time at school, and I had overheard from a group of pupils that a girl named Liza had joined the school as a freshman. They were all gossiping about her, and speaking hurtful things about her, so because of that I had taken the decision to speak to her and get to know her. She seemed very miserable, and unable to interact with others. She was a very timid girl, with blonde, silky hair. She was thin and her hips were beautifully curved that I had been astounded by her beauty. I have to admit she was a natural beauty. She had shinning green-colored eyes with extremely soft, pale skin. Her face was very well-formed that I wasn’t startled at the rivalry and hostility other people exhibited towards her. They were just envious of her looks, even of her status. I also heard of her parents’ high-social status and of her extravagant wealth. In the course of getting to know her, she seemed very melancholic, and in a bad state. “Hi,” I said in an almost low-pitched voice. To be truthful, I was intimidated by her charisma. “Hello,” she replied back in a very courteous, and respectful tone. “What is your name?” “Liza,” she responded. By the moment she said “Liza”, I felt some pain in my stomach. I was anxious, and my dysphoria overcame me. I preferred not to share my name, so silence took over for a couple of minutes. “You see, my dear Liza, I have overheard a lot of gossiping about you.” She flushed crimson and turned her face aside. “I didn’t mean to,” “It’s all right,” she said innocently. She fixed a steady gaze at me afterwards, and my heart started racing. I thought to myself, “What if she is staring because of her uncertainty of my gender?”

After a short and common discourse, we had together, she had consented to see me at a nearby public park at 4 o’clock in the afternoon. My day at school had finally passed, and I was readying myself to go out. I was in such a haste, but I did not forget to wear my binder. I took the nearest, most discreet road because I did not wish to be seen.

When I had finally arrived, the park was deserted. A fountain was located in the middle where its water was sprouting all over. There were approximately ten flower beds of poppies in the entire garden, a lot of cedar trees implanted, plus the ground was grassy. It was nearly getting dusk, the atmosphere was getting darker, and the sky was heavily clouded. I looked into the distance, and I saw a figure. I knew for sure that it was Liza, and I was right. We seated ourselves on a wooden bench with complete silence at first, then a thought popped into my mind, “I mean, you have everything. You’re a cisgender woman of a distinctive social class with astounding beauty, what could be troubling you? What are you so depressed looking?” I found Liza to be staring at me, which infuriated me on the one hand, because I thought she was inspecting me, inspecting my sex, but she wasn’t. When I asked her of the reason of her long stares, she responded that there is something mysteriously ambiguous about me. “Do you I know you from somewhere? You look pretty familiar,” she said to me as I was startled at her words. “I feel like I have known you for a very long time, but in the mean time I have never met you before,” said she with a confident air, seeming so sure of her statement. “Do you believe in past lives?” she asked. “No, I am a very skeptical individual,” I said in wonder. “I have a strong feeling within that I have known you and met you before.” “Are you trying to tell me that you have known me in a past life, for example?” “Yes.” “That’s odd. I don’t believe in these things anyway.” “Tell me,” said she, “what is your name?” When she asked, I felt like jumping off a clip or the top of a building. “Leo.” “What an elegant name you have.” “Y-Yes…”

“Tell me something about you, my dear Leo,” she said to me. Suddenly, I had thought to myself that I should open up my heart to her, and tell her everything. She seemed highly intelligent, well mannered, polite, and in comfort with my company. What usually worried me was if I had ever wanted to speak to people that they would find my company to be very dull, and uninteresting, but she seemed to take a great interest with that and at ease with me. “How can I trust her?” In order to distract her, I reached my hands to my pockets and took out a box of cigarettes and a red lighter. “Would you like to join me and smoke?” “Sure, if it suits you, of course.” The both of us shared a cigarette together, and I was not feeling very well. I wanted simply to just leave, as my gender dysphoria was taking the best of me. Finally, I had the courage to stand up and make a speech to her. Yes, I had been wanting to elucidate to her what lies behind Leo, so as I stood up, she looked at me with curiosity, but didn’t say a word. “You see, my Liza, I am a man. I don’t really care what you might be thinking to yourself about me, or about my appearance, but I am not the one to blame. It is all because of this deceiving puberty that I have went through, and because of my stupid parents. I have to avow, that the life of a man like me is not very easy. I have come a long way. I know and I can see that you are looking at me in perplexity, confused, but that doesn’t surprise me. I declare to you that I am a man, and whether you assent or dissent that does not make me any less of a man. Have you never heard of a man with a grown chest? Yes, dear Liza, they are existent, and they have been existent amongst us ever since the beginning of mankind. These men, which I am speaking of just now, are deemed deluded and mentally ill, but, let me tell you that it’s all a misunderstanding. You all misunderstand what men like us are all about. You see, a penis does not make you a man or its lack doesn’t make you any less of a man. Penises are not a determinant factor of my masculinity, and never will be. You may have heard many popular opinions about men like me, that I am a prostitute, or a sex worker. The bottom line is that – yes – I am a transgender man, and no, I am not a prostitute. Trans people of color, trans people of social class, trans people belonging to a barbaric culture have recourse to sex as work, and it is because they are left off without any life resources, and it’s all mainly because their gender identity does not match their physical sex. You see, my dear Liza, there are two kinds of hermaphroditism, which are psychical and physical. I happen to be psychically a hermaphrodite. My brain structure resembles exactly the structure of a cisgender, biological man. And these are facts proven scientifically. When science tells you that twice two makes four, you have to take it as it is and not to bang your head against the wall as most pious people do just for the sake of religious morality. Transgenderism is existent amongst the lower animals, not just the higher. It is prevalent in nature, just like homosexuals and bisexuals. The differentiation between the lower animal and the rational animal is that the lower animal is privileged because he is deprived of his rational faculty, therefore, he leads his life plainly, simply, and purely. Whereas the rational animal has hardened life on himself, he has repressed his instincts just for the sake of declaring himself as the highest of all species, that he has surpassed the lower animals through religion and language. He thinks just because he is a biped, and utters from his mouth hole nonsense that he has to be the work of something grandiose, and that something he calls it God. I apologise for rambling this much, but I needed to address these things to you.” During my speech, Liza was listening attentively to my words, but she was trembling heavily. “What is wrong?” I asked. “It’s n-nothing. I just…I don’t know what to say,” she put her head in her lap, and started sobbing. Silence broke in afterwards. Obviously, Liza wanted to say something. I could tell from her lips. “What is it?” I asked morosely. “My father…I mean, my mother…She…She’s transgender herself. I also think that she’s a trans lesbian woman.” The minute she said this I stood there in amazement, unable to utter a single word in addition. “I loved your speech. I love everything about you already,” said she, “but now it is time for me to give a small speech,” she turned to my side and finally made eye contact with me. “My dear Leo, I understood everything you have just told me about yourself. I respect you and I respect your gender identity. My mother, she was assigned biologically male at birth, but she identifies as a woman…I don’t want to talk about this,” she said in a morose manner.

“What is wrong? You can tell me anything you want, I am here,” said I, still stunned by what she had just told me about her mother. I had always thought that I was the only transgendered person in this community. I was honored to get to know somebody from the older generation as transgender.

“My mother – to our knowledge – she was my father, but she turned out to be a transgender woman. I knew it. I knew it all along! It’s not that I have a problem with it, it’s because my parents are divorced, and it hurts. That doesn’t need an explanation for you, as you are already aware of the reason of their divorce.” “I’m sorry to hear,” I said. In truth, I didn’t know what to say. I was speechless. She had begun with her sobs again. I started to console her, telling her that it’s all going to be all right, and even if it doesn’t, it’ ok because suffering is part of the human condition. I had sent out to her my most sincere apologies and gave her a hug, which was odd, because she was still a complete stranger to me. After long hours of conversating, Liza had notified me that it was getting late in the evening. “I need to go,” she whispered coldly. I could really tell that after my last speech on transgenderism, Liza was irritated. It was obvious why. She didn’t want to be reminded of her parents’ divorce. It seemed that she admired her trans mother, respected and loved her so much that she could not that she was taken away from her. Yes, she told me that her biological mother had separated her from her beloved mother, how much she missed her, how much she felt incomplete without her. “Will I see you tomorrow?” “My dear Leo, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for making my day brighter, even if, at the same time, you made it kind of dark. I loved her. I loved my mother so much, regardless of her gender identity and her sex. Look, I don’t want to vex you, but I prefer some time alone. I won’t be attending the school for the upcoming days.” I nodded my head in assent, and didn’t say a word. She finally had risen up and left. After this day had passed, I hadn’t seen Liza since. It is true that I only got to know Liza for a day, but she had played a big role into my path to heal. Everything about her enchanted me, she was a magical being to me. She was indirectly my source of courage to rise up against societal norms, my parents, my stupid environment and to finally affirm my gender identity through sex reassignment surgery, top surgery, and hormone replacement therapy. Although I hadn’t seen her since, but her story pushed me forward. After graduating high school – Please note that graduation was very hard on me because of my dysphoria – I had gotten a scholarship to pursue my studies abroad. I decided that I should get into gender studies, now that I am finally able to be myself, and advocate for people like me. Today, I am strong man, a proud man, the happier I have ever been in my life. I want to reach out to the transgender men and women out there throughout my writings, and tell them not to let their gender/body dysphoria make them feel less of a man or woman. You all have the right to heal. I am here for you. You aren’t alone in this world. My heart and thoughts are with you.

#transgender #trans pride #transsexual #lgbtq #short story #lgbtqipa #lgbt rainbow #pride #fiction

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