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#I always had to embrace being pathetic and laugh about it to be humble in gym class and such
foolishnpd · 5 months
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not to be weird bc I hate talking about my body but oh my god I love nighttime so much because I can just walk around shirtless and admire myself in the mirror for an absurd amount of time, like I am literally built exactly like those ancient statues and paintings of goddesses, I am the peak human forme, I am so shaped it's incredible, I am a divine work of art
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marrikko33 · 3 years
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Your Ghost
Goodbye my life, hello my hell
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Pt 2. of Swan Song
A Gojo / Reader Story
Warnings: obsessive yandere behaviour, mentions of attempted suicide, suicide, blood and heavy angst, murder and cursing. If you are sensitive to strong themes I suggest you pick something else to read.
Darling (Gojo POV)
I remember that moment so well, the moment my heart stopped beating and I stopped caring. The moment it finally hit me, I had fucked up and this time, I couldn't fix it. I couldn't fix this. I was the one making her wounds and bruises worse, I had been the reason she left me. I would never again see her beautiful face, never embrace her shaking figure, never again be able to clean and kiss the wounds that I myself never cared to prevent. Although she always believed it, I never cared to tell her I loved her, never cared to kiss her goodnight, never tried protecting her. I just acted as a temporary antidote to her sickness, coming and going, like an addictive drug.
A drug that intoxicated her to the point where it drove her to her death, a death she was happier with than ever spending a moment with me. The woman that I had mindlessly, drunkedly fucked? She was just another obstacle. She had been in the way. She intoxicated me as much as I drugged Y/N and her death was something I could never be proud of, yet my hands moved before I had the chance to stop them.
That woman's blood, her pain, her hurt, was filthy and nothing, absolutely nothing compared to her's. That apartment, that horror, was where I killed her. Her pure blood, was on my hands. And no matter how much I tried not to, I could still see the stains of her liquids on my hands, painting them a crimson red. Everywhere I went, I constantly saw herfalling, her ghost laughing and hugging me, her sobbing figure asking me why I killed her. My answer was always the same, pathetic line. "I'm sorry".
As much as I tried to think of anything else to say to say to the silhouette of her mauled figure everywhere I went, my throat, glued with the poison of pride and selfishness refused to say anything more humbling than 'sorry'. I was pathetic. I was alone. I had no one. The lines kept repeating themselves as I sat in the balcony, painted red with dried blood. "Gojo Satoru is nothing. He is nothing. He is nothing. He is pathetic. He is alone". And then, as I was about to say my next sentence, I froze. I wasn't alone.
If I could join her, if I could spend eternity with her....
Laughing, laughing in what seemed like decades, I looked at her butchered body tilting it's head at me, a terror on it's face as it stepped backwards. "N-no, my love, live your life here, don't-", "But don't you want me? Don't you need me? We could start over, we could spend eternity together darling". I was such an idiot. Why hadn't I thought of it earlier?
Picking up the shattered remains of glass scattered on the brick balcony, I began thrusting them deep into my chest, each pang of pain one step closer to being with her. By now, I could here her shrieking and wailing, begging me to stop as I roared with laughter and joy.
"Just a little more darling, then we'll be together, just a little mo-". My freedom was stolen from my grasp, as I felt myself blacking out. Waking up in the bright lights of a disinfected area, I could feel my heart tearing, tears clouding my eyes, "NO! You traitors, get the fuck away from me!", I yelled, nurses near me screaming and trying to run away as my hands trembled, standing up to see my chest bandaged and swollen. "You, you took me AWAY FROM HER", I felt my voice growing hoarse, as I grabbed their necks, twisting them, with a small *crack* , walking to the exit.
I tried many different ways, burning, hanging, knife cuts on my wrist. They never worked. They only left me as a cripple, a disgusting formation somewhere in between a rotting corpse and a ghost. Yet I never cared. I could sacrifice anything I had to find her, to live with her. In the end, Kento and the others found me and stole my freedom, stole my ability to find her. I'll never forgive them.
Them, the woman, the nurses. They were all in my way, and some day, when I escape the prison they put me in, I'll torture them, not kill them. Slowly, I'll burn them, slowly I'll butcher them. Those bastards don't deserve the mercy of death. Only I do.
We'll be together darling, don't worry. For eternity I'll keep you with me, bandaging and caressing every wound that killed a part of you. It's only a matter of time. Just. Wait.
You guys satisfied? I have no idea if I'm disgusted, sad, or angry at Gojo, rn I just feel like I made a Dazai 2.0. Let me know.
Goodbye my life, hello my hell
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🌼 any of them
Whoops, wrote a fic
Describe one of your OC’s worst nightmares.
An optimist would look at the world of divination with wonder. The universe is a but a magnificent hall of tapestries, beautiful pieces of art woven into anything you could imagine. Tapestries where you are a hero, tapestries where you are royalty, tapestries where your people live with riches, tapestries depicting your eternal victory over your enemies. The universe is endless and bountiful, for in the future, all futures are possible.
This is how Astor usually can depict the good fortune tellers from the worse.
If they’re an optimist, they’re most likely a faker.
The only true divinator that he had met that was even a bit of an optimist was his mother, and even then, he had always had the sinking feeling that she hid a deeper sorrow behind her simple shoes of colorful flames and shining moon and starlight. No, it was quite hard to stick to true, unfiltered optimism in this field, as while it was true that all futures and choices were possible, that freewill ran its course through all who walked the vast possibilities of the universe, the issue came in the fact that you could not travel it to and fro.
There are futures where you live, there are futures where you achieve your wildest dreams, timelines where your childhood is happier, and timelines where you find true love and satisfaction.
But you aren’t in those timelines. The future you have is this one, and it is set in stone.
Walk all the roads you want, say all the words, read all the stories, but when a seer analyzed exactly what world we live in, exactly what end is destined for this string of the universe, there will be no holding back. There is only the unfiltered, raw, typically pessimistic truth of the end. Savor it.
“In truth, Elane, I hate my job. Fear it, even,” Astor set his teacup down, looking out the balcony towards the inky, midnight view. “I fear one day I will find the prediction—the true, ultimate glimpse into the night, that seals in the fact that we’re doomed.”
The Queen only cocked her head with a smile. “Well, I’m flattered that there’s still a ‘we’ in this scenario. Good to know I’ll be joining you in the lockup when my mother find our contraband cucco nuggets—“
“I’m serious, Elane.”
She only laughed quietly, before leaning back in her chair, and gazing out into the pleasant evening. “I know...”
There was a quiet between them, not quite awkward or stiffening, but quiet in the way that you might hold your breath after someone embraces you warmly. Quiet in acceptance, quiet to make room for the sounds of something rare and fickle.
“I swear, I might retire early,” Astor finally said. “Quit while I’m ahead. Head off to Hateno or Mabe and bury my head in the sand.”
“You might want to try Gerudo then, if sand is what you’re searching for. I’m sure Urbosa would be thrilled.”
“Tsk. I am inclined to disagree.”
Elane chuckled again, and she let the quiet embrace her for a moment.
“Eternal doom aside, for a moment, I would posit that there’s hardly anything to fear. You’ve foreseen my daughter’s growth, analyzed the future livelihood of the kingdom, and predicted our victory over Ganon. I’d say it’s hard to bargain with that.”
“Maybe, but I could be wrong.” Astor circled his finger on the lip of his cup. “It happens, people make a prediction, but miss one star, or slip up one word...or perhaps one cow suddenly dies, or one ember quickly fades, and suddenly we’re actually in an entirely different timeline than predicted.”
“Didymos Astor? Wrong about something? Oh my, I never thought I’d see the day...” Elane smiled to herself again as she lifted her cup for another sip.
Astor clicked his tongue. “Well. You should hope I’m not wrong about anything. If someone of my skill makes an incorrect prediction, it would probably be disastrous for everyone.”
Elane winked as she set down her cup. “Well, good thing you’re a prodigy, then.”
“Good thing, indeed.”
Quiet keep their third company once again. Astor still had not sipped from his cup, but Elane was already heading for her fourth refill, no doubt begging for any energy after tucking her daughter to bed. A young toddler with enough energy to power a Guardian army, Elane has always found it quite odd that she used up a lot of her energy to annoy the Royal Seer. It was charming to see him get put off by a Mallory’s boundless curious aura, but mostly relieving in the sense that the Queen could get a moments rest and trust little Zelda would be alright.
Elane looked back inside through the half open door, and smiled at a bundled sleeping figure, surrounded by an army of stuffed animals. She then turned back and finally noticed Astor’s continued silence on the next refill.
She sighed. “Although I would be saddened to see you leave,” she began, “If a retirement would make you happy, Astor, I would loathe to do anything to stand in your way.”
He looked up at her, analyzing her body language and expression. She was genuine, of course, as she always was in these sorts of talks. Astor finally let himself exhale in peace, as he smiled and shook his head.
“Unfortunately I don’t think it would do me much good, anyways. Location won’t let me escape my own thoughts and visions.” He took a sip of his tea—a bit citrusy this evening, a hint of apple—and relaxed. “I’d imagine His Majesty would miss me dearly, and I simply wouldn’t want to leave him in distress.”
“Ha! Oh yes of course, Rhoam would be crying tears if you left us...” she replied, sarcastically. “Tears of deep, deep sorrow.”
Astor looked out into the night in silence again, not touching his cup.
“But I’ll tell you what Astor,” Elane began again. “If you ever receive that world dooming prediction, whatever may happen that may instigate your view of the deepest hells,” she raised her cup. “You come find me, and we’ll have a drink.”
He raised an eyebrow. “A drink? What sort of drink?”
She shrugged. “Whatever you like. Tea, wine, beer, water or juice if it’s your fancy. Whatever will keep your spirits high.”
Astor smirked, solemnly. “I don’t think you understand just how severe and dreadful certain predictions can be. When we say ‘all futures are possible,’ we do mean all possibilities.”
“And I understand, dear seer. I truly do.” She tilted her head as she kept her cup in the air. “But the way I see it, is that with divination or not, doom and hell come into people’s lives one way or the other. But it hasn’t really stopped the majority from loving their lives now, has it?” Her eyes twinkled like starlight. “Dearest Astor, if our destined doom is predicted one day, I command you to at least smile through our tea party.”
Quiet.
He finally sighed, the corners of his lips perking. His protests drowning in her expression.
“I suppose if you’re the one pouring, it’d be difficult to refuse.” He raised his cup and clinked it with hers.
She was dead eight days later.
With her death came the final factor. The final star.
“Your daughter is destined to fail us,” he said again. “The Calamity shall rise and consume us all, and she won’t stop it in time.”
Rhoam slammed his fists on the desk, but the seer did not flinch. “We’ll train her hard, we’ll start now, even! I’ll get those clerics from the temple to teach her the starting prayers!” he yelled.
“It won’t work.” Astor replied, simply. “Perhaps she might attain them down the line, but she most certainly won’t awaken her powers by Ganon’s rise. It’s over.”
“You told me we could do this!” Rhoam pointed a finger, accusingly. “You saw our prosperity, our victory!”
“That was what I initially saw, yes. But unfortunately we live in world where the Queen of Hyrule is dead, and thus the threads of our future weave accordingly.”
“You’re a liar!” Rhoam bellowed again. “You saw her death, saw our end and lied to us since the beginning, haven’t you?!!”
“Don’t you think that if I knew Elane would die, I would say something?! That I would give ample time for her to say goodbye to you and her daughter??” Astor finally raised his voice, met with equal silence. “I failed to correctly analyze our timeline the first time around, and for that I am sorry. But I can not control what pieces of the future fate allows me to see. It’s not an open novel for you to give me a bad book report grade on. It’s a museum of endless tapestries, of which I am task with analyzing one stroke at a time to identify which is woven to a singular man, and the fact that I have given you a complete enough answer now is a gift within itself, so don’t even try to accuse me forgery and lies.”
The two men clenched their jaws, staring angrily at each other.
Astor finally whispered. “Overtime I might gather more specifics, but overall—this is over.”
Rhoam balles his hand into a fist. “We’ll start a new schedule for Zelda first thing in the morning—“
“It won’t work, it’s futile—“
“We’ll make it work—“
“This is set in stone, this is the world you live in—“
“Well what if you’re wrong again?”
“I’m not.”
“But what if you are?”
“I’m. Not. I’ve read the signs again and again and again, in fact I’ve been reaching the same conclusions repeatedly for the last four weeks. It. Is set. In stone.” He tapped his finger on the wood with each syllable to emphasize. “Perhaps the futures of prosperity are accurate for the Rhoams and Mallorys that live in a different time, but unfortunately for us, we live in one where Elane is dead. This is our reality and you’re doing no good denying as such.”
Silence.
Rhoam made his way towards the door. “You’re a liar.” The seer scoffed. “You’re a liar and you don’t know what you’re saying! Borderline treason if I’m being honest! You’re pathetic, and a rotten fake—“
“If it pleases His Majesty to confirm the integrity of his humble subject,” Astor cut in, sarcastically, “It might be good to know that also I’ve predicted you won’t imprison me, or exile me, or execute me, given you’re still ever reliant on my uncontested skills for more personal matters. That, and you wish to try and keep me around to hopefully prove me wrong, in which you can then tell yourself you’d be in the right to truly punish me.” He stared the regent dead in the eyes. “But don’t worry, you won’t.”
Rhoam slammed the door shut as he stomped off.
That night, Astor has another dream. Or perhaps it was a vision, he wasn’t sure, as the details were so surreal and horrific and captivating that it would have surely been a blessing to chalk it up entirely to vivid imagination.
There were screams and the sound of rocks crumbling. Bones were cracking and monsters were squealing and shrieking. And be felt his arms burn, and he felt his soul drain, and he looked down to see his skin peeling into dark flakes, his muscles, sludge. And in the distance, a young woman with golden hair laughed at him, but her eyes were hollow and gold. And she laughed and laughed as his body was slowly broken to pieces, bones torn asunder, skin burned to smoldering malice, senses vivid until the final moment when he woke.
But the good thing about nightmares, was that...that was it. There was no where else to go. There was nothing left to offer. No more pain to fear.
It made sense of course. Of course, of course. He never went to the funeral, he never offered his sympathies. There was no longer anything to mourn, as he allowed himself to view the world in its true, disgusting form. The people were doomed, and the dead, well...perhaps they might have deserved it. Yes, that was the only way this all made sense, of course. He even stopped trying to warn other folk after a few too many dozen harsh rejections to his character. No, now in complete isolation and resignation of his path, there was nothing else that could possibly drag him back to—
“How do I die?” Zelda Mallory Hyrule asked, one day.
At first, he was confused, and he turned in his chair. “What?”
She was seven at the time, and it was truly an odd and concerning thing to be coming from a seven year old girl’s mouth. Or perhaps it wasn’t, given the circumstances.
“How do I die?” she said again. She was laying down on his worn carpet, fiddling with the frilled edge.
Was she truly that bored? Already out of other questions? Hmph, he had always warned her to stay away, as a seer’s office wasn’t really meant for childish entertainment. Yet still she always came and asked to hide away from her father, and, well...anything to spite that man...
“Why do you ask?” he finally replied. Had someone said something to her? A threat? He clenched his jaw. I swear, if that fool tried to force her powers by—
“You’re always going on about how I’m wasting my time with praying and stuff...but father says I still gotta to stop the Calamity or else we could all die.” She didn’t look up from the bits of carpet string she was playing with (and contemplating on popping in her mouth), “So I figured if you tell me how I die we can settle the debate for good!”
Astor just sighed. “Well, of course you d—“
He stopped himself, but not for the reasons a more put together person, might. Not because of the generally frowned upon action of telling a child how she dies, no, that was not exactly beyond him. No, Astor cut off his sentence simply because it had crossed his mind that—
“...I’m not entirely sure...” he whispered.
He suddenly stood. Walking towards the other end of his office, carefully stepping over the child. “E-Excuse me a moment.”
Why had he never considered this? Of course, he had seen the signs clearly enough, the visions, the stars. A girl cries over a corpse, a light vanishes in the night. Malice plagued the sky and dooms the day. But did the Calamity actually kill her? Does she drown in rubble and malice like the others? Slain by a demon or monster perhaps? Or if not, then, would that mean...?
The princess soon forgot about the question by the next day, and the next, and the next, and the next, and the next.
Astor spent nearly eight sleepless nights into finding an answer.
But he never truly did.
These things happened more times than one may think, when it came to predictions. Vagueness was commonplace, but specificities and straightforward answers were about as rare as a green sunset. Of course, he knew she would die, goddess blood or not, she lived the life of a mortal. But how? When? While it certainly wasn’t impossible to predict a person’s death, but whatever the circumstances of Mallory’s was made the process was infuriatingly impossible.
It was possible she would die of malice or suffocation under rubble, even circumstances where she dies at the Ganon’s hand himself. But then there were clear visions of her living, walking through a grassy field, ruins in the distance covered in leaves and moss, her turning and calling to a friend to keep up with her pace.
But no, nonono. She would die during the Calamity’s rise, that was the majority of what the futures offered to her were. That was the probable outcome.
But the factors and visions and signs and alignments were so fine and minuscule in difference, that Astor truly couldn’t a true statement, a true prediction, a true answer to the question. What timeline did we live in?
It taunted him.
Maybe it was better if the question was put to rest, did it even matter?
“Mallory?” he asked. “That’s a stupid name.”
“What?! No it’s not!” Elane laughed and shoved his shoulder. “Please, YOU’RE not one to talk.”
“Well as a victim of stupid first names, I think I’m qualified to speak accurately on the subject.”
“Aha! But it’s not technically a first name.” Elane tapped his head. “It’s a middle name, her first name would be ‘Zelda,’ of course.”
“Yes, and that is also a s—“
The queen shoved his shoulder into the wall before he even finished the sentence. “Oh would you shut up...”
He laughed, unconventionally carefree. Her Majesty’s happiness these days truly was contagious. Or perhaps that was a side effect of pregnancy? Did all expecting mother’s give off this aura?
“I think it’s a wonderful name.” Elane said. “Reminds me of a cute little duck, like a mallard!” She tucked her arms and flapped her elbows to imitate as such. “Quack, quack!”
“This is further adding to my argument actually”
“Hmph! Ok then Mr. Overseer of all names” She tapped a finger to his chest. “If it’s such a stupid name, then when she starts getting bullied for it around the castle, I shall expect you to take care of her in full.”
He scoffed. “Oh, I’ll be sure to do so. She’ll definitely need it.”
Elane pecked his head with a kiss.
“Good! I grant you my blessing lovingly tease her, as well. And I expect the best from you, Astor!”
His face suddenly warmed for some reason, and he couldn’t form words.
“What?”
“.....W...”
He was suddenly whack in the head with a rolled up piece of paper. Astor sprang awake from his desk. “...W...What...?”
“Morning, Mr. Astor!!” Princess Zelda-Mallory beamed. “And happy birthday!!! Sorry I woke you up early, but I needed to give this to you before the winter solstice festival later and—“
She continued to ramble on and on, but Astor simply opened the rolled up paper she had handed to him. It was simply filled with dozens and dozens, arguably hundreds, of hand drawn stars. In the corner was written, “You always look at the same stars so here’s some new ones!” in crude purple crayon. At the time, he failed to notice the accompanying note on the back that read “One for each year of how old you are!” Thankfully he was too busy looking through the different stars, with varying degrees of sparkles and smiley faces.
He finally looked back at the princess, who was still rambling on and on about her day, and her father’s day, and her newest stuffy dress, and her latest adventures with her stuffed toys, and—
“Why are you always here, Zelda?” Astor finally said. She stopped talking, looking at him, quizzically. “I mean...” he grumbled, “You know I don’t really like you, right?
“Eh, I don’t care. I think you’re neat!!” She held out her arms as she zoomed around his circular office. “Your room is so cool! And you got fun books!”
“Necromancy isn’t necessarily what I would consider ‘fun’ reading material—“
“Plus your outfits are cool, and you’re super smart, like my mom.”
He blinked.
“Plus, you’re the only one that’s not mean to me about my dumb powers. But really that’s just a chair on the top!”
“Do you mean cherry on top?”
“No! I meant chair! Watch me!! I’m gonna do a backflip off of this—“
“NO.” Astor immediately stood up, and snatched the girl off of the wooden chair. “NO. No backflips.” He set her down on the rug and pointed to a side of the room which held a broken table, stool, and a few old chairs—the victims of the princess’ previous acrobatic attempts.
She crossed her arms and stuck out her tongue. “You’re no fun!”
“I’m running out of furniture, is what I am.”
“But I’ll let this slide since it’s your birthday! Hmph.”
She started pulling at the loose threads of the carpet. “Don’t know why you had to stop my birthday backflip! Who cares if I get a little scratch?”
“I do—“
“YOU DO?!” Mallory was immediately up and clinging to his robes.
Astor sputtered, instinctively waving his arms to free himself from the child’s grip. But then he finally processed her question, and...
“I...” He looked at her starlight eyes. She had that stupid, naive grin that he always remembered from her mother. A stupid, pathetic, horrible, terrible, optimistic smile.
He finally scoffed. “I just can’t have you getting hurt on my watch, as otherwise, I’d probably be a dead man. That’s all.”
The princess lifted her hands in a “hooray!” fashion, and yelled the exclamation, accordingly. She then resumed her zipping and zooming around the room, much to Astor’s unexpected relief.
That night, he visited the question again.
Why? He didn’t really know.
The question wouldn’t offer him anything, it wouldn’t relieve him of anything—in fact it really did just the opposite. If he found that died miserably, it would be another scream in the nightmare, another nail in the comforting coffin of despair. But if he someone found that she lived, that there was a day after the Calamity, where even a child such as her could possibly prosper...
Having hope and seeing it fail anyway would probably be the most torturous of all.
Again, he had a dream, of a world tainted by blood and malice. But this time he was floating. He was floating and watching the end of it all.
Castle Town was nothing but ruins and ash, and no colors existed but red, black, and grey.
He couldn’t hear anything but a shrill hum in his ears, but he knew there was screaming. He looked to his hand, expecting to see malice or blackened skin, but instead found a strange floating device in his palm. It spin slowly, pink constellations drifting across its surface.
The hum in his ears turned into a groan, and then a whisper. It said something familiar, but he was sure he had never heard it before.
It is time.
The next night he had a dream of a girl standing in a green field, calling out to her friends somewhere behind her. She rested under the ruins of a collapsed pillar, and ate a homemade sandwich with a memorable smile.
Astor reached a conclusion.
In most futures, the girl dies horribly. He wrote in his journal. To be expected, I would assume the rise of the Calamity isn’t exactly easy to survive from.
But what I have discovered is a very specific set of circumstances that lead to a more favorable outcome, at least for her.
I have no way of knowing if it accurately depicts the comings of our time, or another. There are too many variables and specifics. Too long I have spent trying to discern our fate, but the probabilities and possibilities for doom are so interchangeable that it really go either way. The only truth I know is that she lives if—
He paused, tapping the dry quill to the desk again in thought. He dipped it once more.
I’ve decided that if I ever find myself in the scenario where I can solidify her a more favorable destiny, I will take it. I can only hope dare to alter my existing nightmare into something different, there’s really nothing left to lose, is there?
Astor leaned in his chair for a moment, savoring the silence of his office. He looked out the window and took in the night. The stars were gorgeous this evening.
Although if it fails I hope it kills me.
Call it arrogance, but I don’t think I can handle being wrong again.
The seer sighed, then suddenly flipped to the next blank page, angrily.
If I had never met her it would have been fine. If I had just minded my own damn business and continued to work in being resigned to our fate, at least then I could have—
There was a soft knock at his door.
He knew who it was.
Astor pinched the bridge of his nose as he opened it. “It’s past 2am, Princess, what could you possibly have to tell me?”
She looked down and shuffled her feet. “I had a nightmare...”
“Yes, people do have those sometimes.” He immediately closed the door.
Another knock.
After a moment, Astor opened it again. “Don’t you have guards outside your room, how did you sneak up here?”
“Secret tunnel!” She grinned, proudly, as she replied with a sort of sing-song tone.
“That’s nice.”
The door slammed shut again.
She knocked once more. There was the longest pause.
“FFFFFFine!” The world was out of his lips before he even fully swung open the door, and Mallory happily scrambled inside. “But no touching anything, I’m working.”
“It’s ok, I just wanna stay up all night and read your books!” She was already scrambling for the necromancy section, again.
Astor sighed, and went to slump back into his desk. The princess was already sprawled across the floor, distracting herself with another stack of wondrous, ill-recommended book. He didn’t really care.
I don’t really care. He wrote once again. I know there are futures where I dedicate myself to the Calamity, and she dies anyway. I know it doesn’t really matter, I know it’s hopeless to care, and that’s why I don’t.
He looked back at Zelda, he saw her slowly blink back her tiredness. He knew in a few hours or so, he’d have to drop her sleepy figure back off to those useless guards, and berate then for letting her wander off again, as it always was.
If I do this and it’s all for nothing, he began, I fear it will be worse than if I had just stood to the side and perished. It’s already doomed, and this pathetic, foolish optimism might cause me to turn this nightmare into something even worse.
He sighed, and the hours passed as he just sat with his thoughts.
Zelda was using and open book as a pillow.
Astor opened the door, and went to pick her up.
I’m not living through another nightmare. He thought, as he descended the stairs from the observatory. The girl’s breathing was steady as she wrapped an arm by his shoulder.
If it fails I hope it kills me before I see it. He repeated again.
I can’t handle being wrong again.
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unholyplumpprincess · 3 years
Text
Tangled In Your Lies
Anonymous commission for someone who requested a full fic for Revenant/Reader for an old drabble.
Summary: It should have just been a quick win bet to let you finally get your fix of Revenant again. 'Become champion' shouldn't have been too hard, considering you'd nailed him and his squad before he could get you in the past. And yet, of course, Revenant wants to always win. And he will win, especially if it means you're up on the table for him to have. Or! In which you and Revenant have a FWB situation and he's been teasing you for weeks with no relief. So you come up with a bet to mutually solve your issues, totally set on winning. How hard could it be?
(Older content)
Reblogs > Likes. It costs zero dollars to reblog the content you Like!
!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked on sight!!!
Fandom: Apex Legends
Relationship: Revenant/Reader 
Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader is gender neutral and has a vulva, bondage, Revenant being tsundere, FWB relationship/Squad mates with benefits, Revenant has a cock attachment, simulacrum headcanons/Robophilia at its finest
Words: 3.3k
______________
There were some things that the Apex Games had made you understand better. One of those things being the legends that fought within them.
Some examples being that; Sometimes people who were deadly predators were actually humble and soft people in real time, more interested in playing with their familiar birds and humming tunes. Or that people who threw up a shell of bravado and confidence were the loneliest of people, who found it hard to make friends and near broke your heart when you had offered for said person to sit down with you and have lunch. Or perhaps that a big, smiling, friendly man did not mean he did not feel heartbreak at a time in his life, or that his kind eyes did not mean that he was weak.
It was that these games could be for money, fame, or some sort of statement. Whether fighting for sacrifice, fighting to make a difference, or even for a higher following, everyone was here for a reason.
Except, it seemed, for the newest member of the Apex arena, none of these options seemed to fit him. It was almost as if someone had thrown a wild animal into the cage with you all. One that was stolen from the wild and had no interest in sharing the space with anyone else.
~Rest under the cut~
Revenant, the simulacrum, paced the dropship zone like a predator often, bright orange optics flicking to specific people as if marking them for death right at the start. It was as if he were looking into all of you like meals, nuisances. As if one of you in particular had done something that day to deserve the sweet embrace of death.
When you had been set up with him on the same squad, he did the same thing. Paced, looked around, spotted who he seemed to be looking for and would threaten them in some fashion. He’d chuckle, low and dark, as if echoing what must have been a worst fear. Or a nightmare.
Sometimes he’d take his finger and slice it across his throat. Sometimes he’d form a gun with his thumb and forefinger, pretend to aim it at their forehead perfectly, and then laugh darkly again. Haunting and almost beautiful if it didn’t send shivers down your spine.
He seemed to have some twisted humor about him, so you took that as a good sign as far as finding how to get this guy to at least not despise your guts. You find very quickly that Revenant is unlike anyone you had met here already. There’s no on and off switch with him, as far as his personality in the ring and out of it. He seemed just as sadistic and eager to shed blood out of it, practically always pacing, always wanting to pick fights or scare someone.
You were his focus sooner than later, due to you seeming to want to try and get close to him. Or at least get under his skin. Either way he picked it up as a threat, guessing that you were just trying to make him weak. Revenant, in turn, often did things that made your heart pound heavy in your chest. Such as backing you slowly into the corner of any room you were perhaps in, making low threats about staying out of his way, or how he’d gut you with a single slice to your belly. Until he was growling in your face and tilting his head with a low, grumbled, “Am I understood?”
Unfortunately, for him, you only took these threats as a challenge.
The first time he threatened you like that, you had smiled at him and batted your lashes and said sweetly, “You can do better than that, can’t you?” A reaction he had not prepared for. He could understand anger, fear, maybe even could have understood if you had shoved him aside with a huff.
And instead, you stood there, leaning closer to him and watching Revenant move back away from you instead when you get close enough that your breath fans across his plating.  
If he could sneer, you’re sure he would. Instead, his silicone bottom lip had parted slightly to show sharp metallic teeth blended to match his plating, watching his optics spin and turn as if trying to come up with a response.
Then, he’d grunted, huffed at you and walked away.
That’s when you knew that Revenant could be more than the aggression he just put out. Programming be damned, something about him had felt something. You weren’t sure what you saw, but that wasn’t anger it had been. Surprise, maybe. And that?
That was as good of a starting point for you as it was for him. Because for you, that meant you could press and learn more about him.
For him, it meant you were the first target on his list in getting you to crack and stay far from him.
In the end, it wouldn’t work out well for him. Depending on the angle you looked at, that is.
--
To present day, you’re paired up with him on the same squad.
Revenant has at least gotten used to your presence enough that he won’t threaten you, but he’s gotten...possessive. Whatever you two had, he refused to label it, and neither would you.
As far as you knew, you were the only person who he’d let touch him. He was completely sensitive to any sort of affection, something you had accidentally found out when you had made a joke of him actually making due on his choking threats, you’d run a hand down his chest plate and over the small silicone waist he sported and watched him full body shudder as you took his metallic hand in your own and brought it to your throat.
Revenant had looked surprised, only to hiss for you to not touch him, even if he didn’t move his hand AWAY. In fact, his thumb had brushed over your jugular, ever so lightly as he stared down at you intensely.
It had been...interesting, to say the least.
That had started an interesting tradition. Full of you explaining to him that MRVN attachments also worked on his body. Something Revenant had claimed no interest in, going so far as to scoff at you and tell you, instead, how desperate you must have been to receive such pleasures if you were willing to tell him about such stupid things.
Yet, Revenant the next week had huffed about how he’d looked into it. Grunted, “To sate your pathetic urges, I have acquired a cock attachment. I’ll be taking what I want, when I want it, got it?” With a snarl to his voice.
You had fought a smile, told him of course, that he could have whatever he wanted. Just to see him stare at you like a predator for what must have been five minutes, as if gauging to see if you weren’t kidding.
But today, in the arena, it’s just you two. Your third had taken off, claiming something about solo-ing.  You’re sure if Revenant had eyebrows they would be raised as he looked at you and grunted out, “That’s an option?”
“Absolutely not, and don’t think about it or I’ll rip out your inner wiring and use you like a goddamned puppet.” You reply, pointing a finger at him as a threat and a growl to your own tone. You watch as he looks at you, unfazed and simply huffing in amusement as your shorter height threatens him with not even your weapon, but a finger.
Cute. Not that he’d say that out loud.
--
The match in itself was rough. Revenant liked to charge in without waiting on the defense for any sign of another squad, in his eyes another squad meant more fun. Meant more blood to spill. It meant, to you, that cross fire was bound to happen, not to mention miscommunication when you’re trying to ping an enemy, but before you can fret too hard you find a skeletal robotic arm around your waist yanking you around cover.
You grunt at him in annoyance to silently tell him you didn’t need his help, met with a snarl that silently meant he Wasn’t helping, just as you whip around his back to cover his flank.
You two work fantastically as a team, there’s no doubt about it. His gruff voice is a growl in your ear as he calls out, “Meatbag on the left, give ‘em hell.” Making sure to ping the location and giving you enough time to steady your Spitfire enough to catch the enemy off guard as they turn the corner.
His death totem goes up, watching his body shroud itself in black and orange as you quickly dart to it and touch the side of it. It always made you nauseous, the covering feeling of almost being encased in something oh so wrong. Your mind works hungrily, as if starving for the very blood he craved any time of the day.
Two squads down in a fire fight means by the end of it, you’re both weak, trying to throw up shields and heal as you hide behind a building. It means you’re easy to catch off guard, and that’s just what happens when you hear the PING of a zipline end slamming into the building above your head and the new squad approaching guns blazing.
Shit.
--
The bickering starts near instantly when you’re cleared from the medical bay and Revenant catches you heading towards your room. He likes to pick fights, especially in telling you when you were wrong. You huff back at him, bite back just as hard with your words.
“Well, maybe if you weren’t so blood thirsty and wanted to run in BLINDLY-” You began, walking in a brisk, angry pace towards your room as he pursues you, lithe and quiet with his steps like the stealthy predator he was.
“Perhaps if you had more spine.” Revenant snarls back, curling around to your side as you push open your door. You go to shut it right in his face, but he follows just as easy, pushing it open and whipping around. You let your back press to your door, let him lock it, your eyes meeting his as your jaw sets straight with you clenching it.  
The tension only causes your body to light aflame with desire. It’s as if he thought you hadn’t noticed when he’d been marching beside you angrily, that his loin cloth wouldn’t shift and let you see he had an attachment on. As if he thought bickering with you like this would end any other way.
You lick your lips, watching his optics flick to the action and know for a fact you’ve got him now. You still pretend you’re angry, pushing off the door and walking towards your bedroom. You take note of how he follows you almost like a puppy- more like a wolf, stalking and hungering. “More spine? Are you seriously acting like I didn’t save your ass?” You finally jut back, letting the backs of your knees nudge the bed, making yourself look vulnerable to him.
You hide your grin when he falls right into your trap, stalking closer with his snarl rumbling in his throat, “I don’t need saving from a pathetic little-” His hand reaches for your throat, and you let one corner of your lips quirk in a smirk.
Your leg curls around the back of his where the knee joint rested, yanking forward and grabbing his wrist to yank him towards you. Revenant is made almost entirely of heavy joints, machinery, and silicone, it means he would be heavy if he landed on you. Thankfully, you move to your side, letting his weight drag you down as his back hits the bed and you’re quick to straddle him.
There’s no warning as you scramble for your nightstand on top, taking the heavy, thick metal wiring you’d gotten to prepare for this sort of thing. Revenant is near immediate in snarling, but you’d recognize his attachment getting hard anywhere against your ass.
He’s not using his full force as he squirms when you grab his arms and yank them above his head. He’s not even using blunt force, his hips buck up, he thrashes, only managing to get himself higher on the bed and head resting on your pillows. You’re able to tie his wrists together, wrapping the wiring around his forearms and tying the knot underneath, throwing it over the head of your bed and tying it to one of the bars there.
You’re lightly panting when you finally finish, sitting back on his hips and watching him struggle underneath you. It’s half-hearted at most, a show really, but you watch him test the bonds with light tugs then harder. The headboard threatens with a groan, but the bonds don’t so much as shift. You let your smirk show, and that seems to set him off.
“I’m going to rip you limb from limb!” He snarls, optics heated and swirling as he bucks up, trying to throw you off. He’s heavy, as mentioned before, but it only serves to rock you a bit off balance. Your thighs stay locked, strong as he forgot you are as you stay perfectly atop him.
You’re able to feel that the loin cloth he wears has been shifted away to reveal his cock attachment. Hard, leaking the lubricant reserves he’d had left in him, the nodes on the sides are glowing an angry red and if his flesh wasn’t made of black silicone on the attachment you would have guessed it would have been purple from arousal.
You see it at the same time he seems to notice you did. He’d be red in the face if he could be, but instead his silicone lip is parted from his metal plating, letting out pants without a need for air. When you grin cruelly, he throws his head to the side and snarls at the wall next to his head as if the poor thing caused this.
“Are you going to rip me apart, hm? When you like it this much?” You murmur your tease, shifting down his hips to straddle his upper thighs instead, stroking a finger up the length of the warmed material and watch his hips jerk up from his sensitivity. “Oh, you poor thing, don’t want to admit you like when I take control?”
“Fuck you!” He practically roars, yet when his eyes meet yours, he’s quick to avert them. His jaw clicks with a metallic noise, his sharp teeth threatening the metal plating of his ‘mouth’. You laugh a bit at him, letting your hand wrap around his cock and letting the pre-cum act as lubricant for you to pump him twice. You watch as his hips come up, lifting you with the effort, the wiring in his neck shown off with the turn of his head and you feel your mouth water from the effort not to sink your teeth into it.
--
Stretching yourself had taken time, but it was worth it in the end to watch Revenant stare at you hungrily. You had leaned back on his lap, spread yourself open with your fingers so he could see how wet your cunt was before using his own pre-cum as lubricant. It was, well, lubricant anyhow, it would be useless to let it go to waste. But, regardless, it still makes him moan low in his throat, almost a plead. Almost.
You’re two fingers in, palming your clit as you practically hump your palm. You let your other hand tease his cock, letting your nails run along the underside and occasionally pump with an almost painful squeeze at the base to remind him you’re in charge. Surprisingly, he doesn’t back talk, but he doesn’t beg either.  
His voice box is full of static by the time you finally sit on his lap properly, guiding his cock inside of you. Revenant looks like he’s going to short circuit any second, or blow a fuse for that matter. His optics have turned to a dark, deep orange as if dimming to a deeper color, his cock already threatening to jerk inside of you. Always so easy to cum, it was cute.
Right on cue, he’s cumming with a strangled sort of noise in his throat. He wouldn’t let you hear him moan properly; It was something you’d only heard accidentally slip out. Yet, even now, his optics flash in warning as his body becomes even more heated.
“Revenant-” You whine out, letting your eyes flutter and your head roll to the side as you ride him. You don’t pause to let his sensitivities reside. You get a thrill out of the way his typical snarls and grumbles turn into shaky hisses, easing into low moans as his struggling begins to ease.
It makes riding him a lot easier. Letting your hips bounce steadily and biting your bottom lip to force your own sounds to silence. At some point you’ve let your hand slide up the warm plating of his chest, sliding up to his throat and resting there. Your fingers idly press to the dark red wiring on the side of his neck, feeling his hips twitch upwards until you let your index finger hook one and gently tug.
It causes an immediate reaction as he lets out a static filled groan, almost resonating in his chest from the effort. His feet plant firm on the bed, hips slamming up into you every time you come down. It’s rocking your body in time with Revenant’s, edging you closer and closer with every thrust getting hard enough to make his prior orgasm spill from you. The messy red seeps out of you, onto his loin cloth, making every slam of hips a wet slap.
Your breathing is heavy as you pull at the wire again, able to hear the second his voice box crashes when a low, rolling growl echoes from his chest as he cums inside of you again. You cum with him, your body shaking with tremors as you try to catch your breath. Your eyes are closed, your head lolled to the side. You’re perfectly unaware you’re being watched by the simulcrum under you, who is quietly committing your imagery all to memory to replay in more...private moments.
Not that you had to ever know that.
The cleanup comes soon after, as well as unbinding him. Revenant begrudgingly lets you clean him up with a cool, wet wash cloth. Wiping up the mess from his lap and getting him to give you the fabric so you could wash it. He only grumbles once or twice when you check over his forearms and wrists for any damage, “I’m not made of flimsy, squishy flesh like you are.” He reminds you, only for you to shush him as you press a kiss to a possible scratch to his plating.
“But, aftercare is important, even if you’re going to complain the entire time.” You remind him back, moving up onto the bed to rest next to him and gently guiding him to you. You rest your arms around his body, something that should be uncomfortable but with the dips in his waist it made things easier.
Gently, you guide him to your neck to rest his head, feeling the grumble building in his chest before you silence him with a sigh, “Think of this as more for me than you, would that make you happier?”
“Nothing makes me happy,” He grumbles, only earning him a gentle stroke down his back, following the plating to make out a spine. Something that makes him grunt in approval to.
“Mhm, alright, keep being edgy.” You yawn, gesturing for him to pull up the blankets and murmuring an idle ‘good boy’ when he obeys.
He chuffs like an annoyed big cat, but is quick to silence this time.
Revenant would never admit that your soft, warm body was a blessing at soothing away any aggression he had for the night.
No, he couldn’t let you know that in reality?
He actually...maybe...sort of...
...Thought you were okay.
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mrsseverussnape · 3 years
Text
Love Is You - chapter 6
a/n: Are you seeing these posts? If not i don’t wanna spend my time editing the fanfiction for nothing…
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    The familiar knock on the door woke Scarlett up in the morning. It was none other than Severus Snape. He was standing there with their breakfast.
"Did i wake you up...?"
"Yeah..." Scarlett murmured sleepily. "Whatever come in."
"Sorry, i thought you'd be awake..." he put the plates on the table.
"The pills make me sleepy all the time... You help yourself, i will be back." She headed to the bathroom.
While he was pouring tea into the cups, she came back and sat down the chair.
"I went to the owlery earlier and there were couple of letters for you so i took them, here."
"Oh thanks."
She looked through them; Leo, Carina, dad... and there was a package. She wondered who sent it so ripped it open since there was no name tag on it. There was a grey cardigan and a note inside of the package, she immediately recognized the cardigan because it was hers. She was very confused, so she picked up the note and read it.
~
I didn't have any thick clothes with me that night and after Sirius and his warmness left me all alone in the cold bed, i had to borrow that from your wardrobe. You lost your husband but you can have your cardigan back.
Love, Arabelle
~
Scarlett took the cardigan and the note and threw them into the fireplace while tears running down on her cheeks.
"How dare she!?" She punched the wall next to the fireplace and fell down the floor crying hysterically. Severus run up to her immediately; he was shocked at her reaction, that was so out of character.
"Scarlett, Scar calm down. What's wrong?"
"I want to kill her!" She was screaming and crying with anger. "I hate her! She ruined everything!" She was digging her long nails into her palms as she clenched her fists.
Severus was so confused and worried at the same time. He hasn’t seen her like this before and he wasn't sure what to do because clearly talking wouldn't work at that moment so he just held her close to calm her down. Scarlett was resistant at first but after a while she leant into him and just cried her eyes out until there was no tear to shed. Sometime have passed like that and finally she was no longer crying and moved away from his embrace slowly.
"I am sorry, that was so pathetic of me..." She whispered while looking away from him.
"There is no need to apologize Scarlett." He stood up and gave her a hand then he led her to the table.
"I feel so ashamed... I can't control myself at all..."
He poured some fresh tea for her and sat back down.
"Why do you feel ashamed? You just express your emotions that way and if it relaxes you, do it."
"I have bad thoughts all over my mind Severus... i don't even know what am i gonna do next. I am scared of myself..."
"Talk through them with me."
She took a sip from her tea and thought for a while. "Did Carina tell you anything? Be honest with me."
"No, not at all. She just said family issues and i didn't question it any further."
"I don't know where to start, so many things happened lately... like i can't perceive them at all." sighed deeply, Scarlett was feeling so distressed she was still shaking from the crying.
"Start with the easiest one for you."
"I am no longer the deputy minister, i quit."
"I read that in newspaper and i was surprised actually."
"It wasn't an easy decision. I love... loved my job and it was a good way to show my abilities but... i had to quit."
"Did you get a better offer from somewhere else?"
"Oh, i wish..." she smiled sadly "I am unemployed right now." She saw the confused look on his face. "And here is the shitty part..." she finished off her tea, hoping it would ease her a bit. But unfortunately, it didn't. She was scratching her hands unwittingly. Severus knew something bad was coming, this was never a good sign.
"He, Sirius, umm... cheated on me..." she bit her lip to stop herself from crying once again but the tears didn't want to stay in their places but run down on her cheeks. "With his co-worker... i caught them in our bed..."
Severus couldn't believe the things he just heard. Sirius literally would kill himself to be with Scarlett when he was young and when he finally had her, he cheated. Severus regretted his decision that he made 30 years ago, he shouldn't have believed Sirius. While he was busy with his thoughts, Scarlett continued.
"We divorced 10 days ago. 26 years of marriage ended in half an hour... and like this wasn't bad enough, after the court i came across with "the girl" and she humiliated me in front of many people. And the package was from her. She has borrowed my cardigan that night because after i interrupted their hot action, she was cold." Her anger was rising, and her face was turning red at the same time. "She wrote me that i lost my husband but i can take my cardigan back." She laughed angrily and then started to cry helplessly once again.
Severus was so angry and just wanted to find Sirius and put him in his place. Seeing Scarlett like this broke his heart into pieces but he didn't know what to do to make her feel any better. He could see her pain through her beautiful eyes. He would give anything to see them shine with happiness again.
"I am standing on a very thin line, if i let myself fall which i am close to... i won't be able to recover from this at all or it will be so hard... I don't want it Severus..." her voice had such a pleading tone and she was literally screaming for help.
"I am here for you Scarlett, whatever you want or need i will always be there to help you."
He was dying to hug her tightly and kiss her pain away. She was the only one he ever loved and his love for her never changed over years.
"Thank you, Severus." She smiled faintly.
He watched her while she was taking her pills with shaky hands.
"Would you like to do something today?" He felt like he needs to take her out of this room, she was stuck between the walls for days and it wasn’t helping her a bit.
"Like what?"
He shrugged. "I don't know, we can go for a walk to Hogsmade?"
She thought about it for couple of minutes.
"We can do that, maybe being outside will be good for me."
"Good then. I will be in my room, when you are ready just knock on my door." He picked up the breakfast dishes and left.
Scarlett sat on the chair for a while before starting to get ready. She thought about Severus, when he was here with her she felt so comfortable even speaking about such hard topics for her. He always made her feel so calm and peaceful. But another side of her was still hurt by him. She decided not to think about that now, there were already man problems in her life.
Some time has passed, and she was knocking on his door. He opened it with a tiny smile on his lips.
"Sorry it took a little longer, apparently i forgot how to dress up since the only thing i wear was sleeping gowns for weeks..."
"It's okay and you look beautiful whatever you wear." The sentence did slip from his mouth before he thought, he blushed a little after he noticed what he just said.
"Thank you, Severus."
She smiled lightly and the two walked out from the castle to Hogsmade. It was a chill November day, just like Scarlett likes it. She was a total winter person and the cold weather always made her feel better and alive. A tiny smile appeared on her lips.
"I was thinking the old days, i have never imagined that we would be on our way to Hogsmade in our 50s."
He chuckled softly. "But here we are. Just like we used to do while we were at Hogwarts."
"I would like to live a day from those good old times."
"We can live like one. First we go to Honeydukes and get your chocolates then we have our hot chocolates at Three Broomsticks and talk."
"Sounds good to me!"
He was happy to see her all excited about such a simple day. They walked the roads they knew so well, got her favourite chocolates and now they were enjoying their drinks.
"You never talked about your life, what's going on with you?"
"Nothing much. Just working and dealing with dunderheads..."
"I hope you are not calling my daughter a dunderhead." She joked.
"I wouldn't hire her as my assistant if I thought so."
"Ah good to hear that because she really likes you, you were always her favourite professor. She would be sad if you called her a dunderhead."
"Carina was my favourite student to be honest. She was such a good student."
"Like mother like daughter." She grinned proudly and flipped her hair.
"I see you very humble."
She chuckled softly while slapping his arm jokingly. Severus grinned at her, that was his Scarlett and he was glad to see her happy. They kept talking about random stuff and spent some more time at Hogsmade. They were back at Hogwarts before it got dark.
"Thank you so much for today Severus, i feel so much better." She smiled at him before she entered her room.
"It's my pleasure, i am here if you need anything."
"Thank you again, see you tomorrow."
"See you."
He walked into his room as well and laid down on his bed thinking about her. His heart was beating like a teenage boy who was back from his first date. She was right here, so close but yet again he couldn't hold her, couldn't inhale her sweet rose scent, couldn't kiss her delicate lips...
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zankivich · 4 years
Text
The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 12.5
*Shawn’s point of view*
There’s no snow on the ground in Georgia is the first thing he notices. The second thing he notices is that y/n and him have polar opposite upbringings. She takes him to a house that he has to bend down for his head to clear the doorway. The length from the driveway to the front door is a shorter distance than it took for him to get to his room growing up, and the neighborhood of houses looks nothing like the acres of land his father owned. But the second they enter the house there’s music playing. Al Green seems to blast from every corner in the kitchen. Despite the fact that there’s no snow on the ground, the house couldn’t be filled with more warmth. There are voices that carry from the kitchen with laughter and joy and snarkiness. It’s unlike anything he’s ever experienced in his life.
She holds his hand and pulls him deeper into the house towards the sound of the music and the laughter. In the kitchen there’s a group of women all sitting around a table cooking various foods. One’s got a potato peeler and sweet potatoes. One is busy mixing butter into flour with her hands. Another seems to be chopping vegetables. There’s an older lady who sits at the table simply overlooking everyone else. But none of them are y/n’s mom, and he knows that immediately because they look just alike. Her mother was at the stove with a big spoon and an even bigger pot mixing what smelled awfully similar to y/n’s famous greens. They had the same cheek bones and the same smile and the same hips, though her mom’s were fuller. If the similarities in likeness didn’t do it, the way each of them screeched upon eye contact surely would’ve connected the dots.
“MY BABY!” She cried dropping her spoon into the pot and making a b-line straight for y/n.
“MOMMY!”
They embraced and squeezed and jumped and cheered just to each other. It was the happiest he’d ever seen her. And he loved every second of it. All of the nerves from the car completely faded away as he watched his girlfriend get this special moment with her mother. And he knew immediately that they’d done the right thing in coming. This is exactly what she needed.
“You look beautiful.” Her mom giggled squeezing her cheeks and moving down to prod at the rest of her body. “And...thin. What they feeding you in that city girl?”
y/n rolled her eyes. “Momma I can take care of myself. I been telling you that for years.”
“Mhm and I been telling you for years that there’s no pain in letting others help your stubborn big head out.”
He chuckled at the joke, alerting the room to his presence. And that’s when everything shifted.
The entire room turned to look at him. The lady with the sweet potato stopped peeling. Her mom’s eyes widened. The older lady at the table stares at him in a way that makes him feel small, smaller than he ever has in his life. Suddenly he’s sweating. Has he always been sweating? Oh God. Thankfully y/n comes to the rescue.
She steps back over to him and wraps her arms around one of his.
“Everyone this is Shawn. He’s my boyfriend. If you break him, you deal with me. Shawn this my auntie Debrah, my auntie Janet, my auntie Carolin, and my grandma Gina. And that’s my mommy Audre.”
He cleared his throat and threw on his best smile holding up the peace offering he brought in the form of alcohol.
“Hello. Thank you so much for having me in your home for the holidays. I think if I tried to cook for the two of us I might have burnt the place down, and y/n surely would’ve killed me before the fire did.”
Grandma Gina laughs. It’s a big belly laugh for such a tiny woman. She was the same complexion as Audre except with silver hair that went all the way down her back in a neat braid. Even if she was small, she was far from frail, her hands resting on a cane that she knocked into the floor as she laughed. Everyone else turned to her, and it was as if once he received her approval the rest of the room dissolved into laughter as well. He released a big breath and leaned into y/n’s side. They might not hate him after all.
Audre walks over to the two of them and gives him a look over from head to toe. He feels small again. He never needed to be liked so much in his life. He peered over at y/n who was smiling hesitantly at her mother like she was just begging her to like him. He wanted to ask if he should get on his knees or something.
“This one hmm?” She asked.
Y/n looked up at him and smiled warmly before nodding at her mother like a child picking out their pet at the pet shop. He smiled at Audre and nodded too.
Audre snorted. “Oh lord. Okay. I’m Audre. You can call me Audre.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you Audre.”
He moved away from y/n just long enough to hug her and was surprised at the warmth that she could bring to a touch. Like mother like daughter apparently.
“Oh y/n, this boy is just as bony as can be too!” Audre complained poking at his stomach. “Even more so!”
He chuckled. “Ma’am I have forty-two percent muscle mass.”
“Good for you. We’ll make sure to change that today. Pull him up a seat y/n before he wastes away.”
“Oh lord.”
“Yea, y/n pull me up a seat before I waste away.” He grinned.
She unabashedly punched him in the arm and went to take off her coat.
“Boy yo legs ain’t broken. Get your own chair.”
Ah yes. He’d forgotten completely who he was dating. Woops.
He finds that “home y/n” is one of his favorites. She pulls up her sleeves and joins her mom at the stove and it’s like she’s completely in her element. He learns that in her family the women all come together to cook. It’s always at Audre’s house every year, and no one is allowed into the house until all the food has been cooked and is ready to eat. By the time the night was over, the house would be full of every family member in town and all those who could make it from out. They assured him there would barely be space to sit, but they all found a way. For them Christmas day was spent with immediate family and then everyone would come together for a meal. It wasn’t about presents, but just being able to be together.
They all love her so much. Auntie Carolin and Auntie Debrah just ask her questions about work and the city and all the incredible things that she gets to do. And y/n couldn’t be more humble. She stays away from the after parties and the jets and focuses on what matters. She told them the story of Normani crying in her dressing room after the VMAs, how she was the first black woman to win her award in nearly a decade. She told them about being in the studio and watching people create, getting to be apart of something bigger than herself. And he can see it in their faces. There’s no jealousy, or ill will in anyway. They’re so incredibly happy and proud of everything that she does. It makes his stomach and his heart feel full to watch people who know just how amazing she is. And she is.  It’s overwhelming even more so than usual.
“Here, taste this.” She hummed plopping down on his lap with a big wooden spoon.
It was the sweet potatoes from earlier in this wonderful concoction of brown sugar and cinnamon and butter. He groaned around the spoon.
“That’s amazing.” He sighed. “When can I eat it?”
“How your forty-two percent muscle mass ass eats so much I will never understand. Let me see if I can sneak you some.”
“K. Love you, sweetheart.”
“Yea, I love you too bighead.”
“I heard you got a big head too.” He argued.
“Yea and if you ever wanna see anything besides my big head I suggest you forget what you heard. And swiftly.” She smiled.
“Sounds like a plan!”
“That’s what I thought!”
God he loved her.
***
*Y/n’s point of view*
Fifteen minutes. You left for fifteen minutes to go to the bathroom and scrub the pie crust from underneath your fingernails. Only to come back to your boyfriend Disney prince-ing your whole entire family! Tina Turner’s greatest hits had matriculated into the line up of music and Shawn was taking turns twirling every woman in the kitchen around the room. You watched as he somehow managed to get your grandmother out of her chair and into his arms so that he could waltz her slowly around the kitchen table. Every single one of those women had turned into gushing teenaged girls. It was absolutely pathetic. And incredibly on par with your reaction to him as well. Where had they made him at?!
You stepped gently up to your grandmother, fingers easing softly onto her shoulders as she leaned back to smile at you.
“Can I steal him for a second grandma?”
She nodded warmly. “Girl go on ahead. My hip was starting to hurt.”
He helped her back to her seat and accepted the kiss on the cheek that she gave him before coming back to you. His arms, long and warm, tugged you into his hold as he twirled the two of you gently back and forth. Neither of you would notice the way your nosy ass family watched every second, but that’s okay. You ran your fingers through his hair and played with the curls until they were big and fluffy the way you liked.
“And just what do you think you’re doing?” You asked him.
He grinned. “I told you I’d win them over. I’m charming, honey; what can I say?”
“The ego on you.” You snorted. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Me neither. I question how I managed to get you just about every day.”
Okay that one was smooth.
“I think it was when you let me sleep over for the first time.” You hummed.
His eyes widened at the revelation of you actually having an answer to his question.
“Excuse me?”
“Do you remember?” You paused to lower your voice. “When we did the ropes for the first time? You let me stay. We did something totally new that  neither of us had ever done before. And it was amazing and we took care of each other, but it was still a little overwhelming. I didn’t even have to say anything, but you let me stay. And you pretended to cook too many eggs the next morning so I would have breakfast. I think that’s the first time you really got me.”
He smiled warmly and pushed his head deeper against your fingers.
“I was terrified of hurting you. I just wanted everything to go right, and I wanted you to feel good and only for it hurt if that meant it still felt good. And also you looked so cute when you were sleeping I couldn’t just let you leave without breakfast.”
“See? You cared about me.” You grinned.
“I always cared about you, y/n. Always.”
“Yea. Now that I think I about it, I think I did too.”
“Good.”
He presses your lips together like it’s nothing. Like your whole matriarch isn’t there. But when his lips are soft and warm and moving against yours, it’s hard to care about much else.
***
It should have come as no surprise that the rest of your family would love Shawn just the same. He happily jumped into the rough housing of all the younger kids, carrying two of your cousins on either of his arms through the living room while another one held onto his leg. Everything about him was perfect. And it’s not that you didn’t know that, didn’t know that you loved him and loved all of the things about him besides the parts that you didn’t. It’s just that he fell into your life so easily. He made himself at home and he picked up right where everything else left off. And you didn’t know how but it made you feel good.
You were standing at the entraway way of the living room by the kitchen watching him with your arms crossed when your mom came up to lean against you.
“Hmm...He’s a nice one isn’t he?” She hummed against your shoulder.
You nodded. “He really is.”
“Is he...the one?”
You rolled your eyes. “Oh momma!”
“I’m just asking. Girl, I want some grandbabies. And the last person you brought home to meet me was in high school. I might not get another chance.”
You let your face fall into your hands in mortification. Dating in your thirties was tough. No matter how progressive the country might--or might not--be, family always complicated things. Your mom was of an era where marriage was a thing that you did no matter if you were in love or not. Cue the fact that you hadn’t seen your father since you were eight. You in all of your confidence and all of your womanhood, didn’t see marriage nor children as requirements. They didn’t even exactly scream appealing to you. You’d be happy with your apartment and maybe, at some point, a cat. That was really your goal, your happy place. It just so happened that maybe Shawn complicated that a bit for you.
“He’s young.” You murmured watching him get tackled down to the ground by children. “He’s not even twenty-five yet. He’s got no idea what he wants.”
“Is that so? So y’all are really just playing around huh?”
You paused and looked over your shoulder at your mother. You shook your head hesitantly.
“I wouldn’t say that.”
She tilted her head in question. “Then what would you say, y/n?”
“I...I don’t know. I’d say we’re really enjoying each other’s company. I’d say we’re very serious about actively making each other happy and working to co-exist together because we enjoy each other so much. But it’s not like he wants to move in with me, or start a life with me. I don’t want to ask that of him.”
“Now which is it? Is it he’s not ready, or you don’t want to ask him if he’s ready?”
“It’s...It’s...dammit momma, why you always gotta ask questions?” You whined.
“Because I am pushing sixty child and I want some grandbabies! Before I die.” She huffed.
You rolled your eyes again and turned back over your shoulder only to catch Shawn staring at you with a similar level of fondness that you had for him. He tilted his head in ask that things were going okay. All you could do was nod and smile. He didn’t need to stress about your mother being crazy. That was your job.
***
Aretha Franklin plays in the background. You’re sat on the floor together with the tree in the background. It’s quiet with all of your extended family long gone. Your mother fast asleep, it was time for you and Shawn to finally share presents with one another. You, in one of his sweatshirts and leggings after the long day. Him in another and those plaid sweats of his that you really liked. His hair is pulled back with a headband and it makes you smile. He hums Natural Woman to you as he sets a box in your palm.
“This one, I just thought was pretty. It’s not a big deal, okay?” He murmured.
“Okay, okay. Gimme!” You whined.
They were hoops. Big ass hoops. Big ass, rose gold diamond encrusted hoops. It was like he knew the way to your heart and had every intention of nestling himself there.
“Wow. They’re beautiful! Jesus, Shawn.”
“You like ‘em?”
You nodded enthusiastically. “Of course I do, are you kidding me?”
“Good. That makes me happy”
You kissed him in thanks, his arms wrapped tight around your waist.
“I love you.” You murmured handing him a gift of his own. “I hope you like this. I thought it was pretty too.”
Shawn’s watches were one of his most important accessories among many.  You’d grown incredibly fond of the sound of his watch hitting the dresser when he undressed for the night. It always meant he was there to stay with you. And it always meant he was yours for the night. So, getting him a watch felt like the obvious choice. But, this wasn’t just any watch. Shawn’s watches were usually bulky and flashy, an ode to his father no doubt. This watch on the other hand came with a fine, black leather band that was more classic and refined. The face was large in a similar fashion to more contemporary brands. It was rose gold and this beautiful rich navy blue color. It was so gorgeous you’d thought about keeping it for yourself. Instead, you figured you’d rather look at it on his wrist instead.
“Shit, babe this is beautiful. This must’ve cost you a fortune.” He gasped. “This is for me?”
“‘Course it is. What other bighead is sitting in this room?”
He whined. “Damn, you bought it for yourself? That’s tough.”
“Rude!”
“What, you can call me bighead, but I can’t call you bighead?” He smiled placing his watch to the side so that he could stalk closer to you.
You pouted at him. “Exactly.”
“That doesn’t seem very fair, my love.” He chuckled before sobering. “Thank you. It’s amazing. I love you.”
He kissed you again. You decided to not be mad at him anymore. For now.
Amongst the other things you’d gotten for each other was an envelope. He pulls you into his lap and wraps his legs around yours in warmth and protection. His body seems to touch yours at all points, and when you lean into him it feels like home. More so than being home. How could that be?
“Promise me you won’t freak.” He murmured when you went to reach for the envelope.
You raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Promise.”
“No! What are you trying to get me to promise? What’s in there?”
He smiled. “Nothing bad.”
“I told you no islands, Shawn.” You whined.
“It’s not an island, sweetheart.”
“Or a country. Or any ridiculously large piece of land. Or anything more than my rent.”
He rolled his eyes and nuzzled his head into yours until his curls covered your face and you couldn’t speak.
“I actually didn’t spend anything at all. Now will you hush and open the damn envelope?”
“Hmm. Give it here.”
You reached for the envelope, your finger sliding under the paper to rip it open.  Inside was just a piece of paper. No island. No car. No country. You frowned down at the sheet in confusion. It was a listing. And at first you thought he’d bought you a new place to live, which truly would have been quite ridiculous. But, no. He was right; he hadn't bought anything. He actually sold something instead.
“You--you sold your place.” You mumbled in shock.
“I did.” He nodded. “Part of our trip wasn’t just about us getting away and having fun. I also needed the movers to be able to have access to my apartment.”
“Oh Shawn. You really, really didn’t need to do that for me.”
“No, I--I very much did. And I didn’t need you to ask, okay? What happened there, what that guy did...I could never ask you to go back there. And I don’t want to. It was easy to leave. Trust me. I couldn’t stomach living there anymore either way. It was really for the both of us.”
You turned in his arms so that you could better view him. He immediately reached for your cheeks just as you reached for his. You each seemed to sigh in relief at the touch of the other.
“I can’t believe you’d do that for me.” You whispered eyes dampening against your will.
He smiled, eyes big and clear and so warm. His oversized thumb wipe at a tear that trailed down your cheek before he kissed any traces left behind.
“I’d do anything for you. I thought I’d made that clear by now.”
“You have. Come here.”
His arms around you tug until your more in his lap then on the ground. His lips find yours and your arms tangle the two of you further together. He kisses you so sweet that you’d be weak in the knees if you even attempted to stand. His tongue is soft, and it feels like a dream when his hands trace your body as well. It’s not the usual charge of lust and trying to crawl inside one another. This one is just sweet, just feels like holding each other close and nurturing each other. It feels so perfect. It’s a very merry christmas.
“Thank you.” You told him when it was all set and done. “I think this is the best christmas I’ve had in years.”
“Good. Just wanna make my baby happy is all. Seems like you make me happy every day, least I can do is repay the favor, right?”
“Yea well you do that and then some.”
When all the paper has been torn and your gifts have been open, all that’s left to do is drink hot chocolate at your mother’s kitchen table and sneak pieces of pie and left over ham. It’s without a doubt the best christmas you’ve ever had. And it’s entirely because of him.
“Hey...Where are you gonna live now?” You asked around your mug.
“Oh, you know that high rise over by the coffee shop you like to go to in the morning?”
Your eyes widened.
“You didn’t.”
He shrugged. “I did. It’s like ten grand cheaper than what I was spending, and I heard really hot women hangout at the coffee shop. There’s a gym there too. So you know, I was really being selfish.”
“Shawn I could...I could walk to your place.”
He nodded and reached for your hand.
“Is that...okay? I don’t want you to think I’m encroaching on your space. I know how much that means to you. I just want you to know that my space can be your space too ya know? If you want. I’ll be around.”
“Uggggggggh! You gotta stop that!” You whined quickly butting your head into his shoulder.
“What?! What’d I do?”
“You can’t be so sweet that you make me feel things like I’m thirteen again! It’s gross. It makes me feel all fluttery and bubbly. I am a woman dammit.”
He only laughed at you like the jackass that you were and tugged you deeper into his arms across your chair.
“You’ve made me feel fluttery since I met you, and I’m not ashamed of it. I like that I can make you feel good. That’s all I wanna do.”
There was simply nothing else you could say to a man that looked the way that your boyfriend did saying the things that your boyfriend said. All that one could do was to pick up the leftover pie from the table and shove it in his face. And run of course. That you could do too.
“Oh you are in so much trouble!” He huffed from across the table where you now stood, poised and ready to leap. “And not the kind you like!”
You leaned on the chair laughing at the whip cream that covered Shawn’s face and eyes.
“You look pastier than normal!”
He shook his head and wiped the remaining pie off of his face before reaching his hands out towards you.
“Come here, y/n.”
“No.”
“Come on. You know what’s coming.”
“If you touch me, I will tell my momma.”
“You better call her then!” He grunted lunging after you.
You quickly turned and ran through the house like the child only he could make you feel like.
“MOMMA!”
***
The morning you had to leave for the airport, you woke up without a boyfriend. Your fingers had programmed a tendency of their own to go searching for him upon wake up, but when they came up empty all you could do was frown at the space on the pillow where his head had once been. Before you could get too annoyed though you felt  the warmth of breath between your thighs that with ease made your legs part. Turns out he wasn’t far after all.
“Babe.” You smiled back arching as you stretched. “What are you doin’?”
You felt his tongue trace your thighs before he popped out, curls first from beneath the covers.
“Just wanted to start the day right. With my favorite thing to have for breakfast.” He grinned pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “You.”
You rolled your eyes and definitely shifted your hips to be closer to him.
“You know if my mom caught us, we’d both be dead right? And you first?”
“Guess you’ll have to be a good girl and be quiet for me. Or do I need to give you something to focus on instead?”
You bit your lip. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Yea? How bout you put my fingers in your mouth and think about how you plan to stay quiet when I make you squirt in a few minutes?”
“God I love you. Yes, please.”
You felt more than heard him hum as he kissed at the outer lips of your labia. You held his hand in both of yours, fingers wettening the digits. He started with long, gentle pressings of his tongue, and bumped your clit every now and again with his nose. Shawn had grown much accustomed to how to get you off. It was his favorite past time it sometimes seemed. He was a wizard at making you squirm, at getting your hips to roll, and your toes to curl. His lips and tongue were so incredibly soft between your folds and he licked and nibbled at your clit like a dream. Your fingers turns to fists in the sheets and your thighs melded to his head as he took you there so quickly.
“Baby,” You gasped. “Baby, please. R--Right there.”
Your favorite was when he placed his oversized hand against your pubic bone and tummy, locking you into place. He used his thumb to focus on your clit, tongue and lips focusing on the rest of you. It drove you absolutely mad. You bucked against his chin, fingers reaching desperately for his head beneath the covers. The covers began to move as Shawn shuffled onto his knees to follow you with his mouth. His tongue was like a dream. A skilled, pointy, softy little dream. And you were like a rocket, just waited to be rubbed until you exploded apparently.
“Oh my fucking god.” You gasped, collapsing back against the sheets.
Shawn did not resurface, because apparently singers don’t need any air once so ever, and instead continued to lick away your release from between your thighs like the little devil he was. Your mom burst into the room just as you were getting your breathing under control.
“Time to get up, y/n! I expect y’all to come eat before you go to the airport.” She explained before closing the door once again.
Jesus.
“Well I don’t know what she’s talking about,” Shawn grinned as he ascended from beneath the covers and crawled on top of you. “I already ate.”
“I hate you.”
***
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kawaiikatanabushi · 4 years
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Hakuouki Okichi Belated Fictober 2019
November Latetober entry Day 4 “I know you didn’t ask for this.”
Fandom: Hakuouki
Pairing: Okichi
Triggers: Depression, suggestion of divorce, illness, tuberculosis, minor self-loathing, angst
A snippet taken from an upcoming Okichi story in which Souji and Chizuru wind up in a self-arranged marriage deal.
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They were falling into a steady rhythm, adjusting to his home health care with hardly any effort. She would rise before him, make breakfast for herself as she allowed him to sleep a few hours more, give him his first dosage at 11 as he was waking and feed him if he was hungry, write her nurse's notes and attend to his needs with ease and still make time to be his wife in the evening. It had been a flippant moment of chance that had brought them into marriage. Her heart being broken and his own agenda aside, they had become a good team. He had never expected to be so humbled and indebted to her. She was the pinnacle of goodness and he felt his uselessness settle as a weighty depression. He didn't deserve any of her tender care. He hadn't even given her a family as he had promised. It was their deal and he was skimping on the bargain. He felt worthless as she juggled their lives and he slept through most of it.
"Souji," she called softly, noticing the somber hue casting his features in dismal drudgery, "Are you alright? What's the matter?"
He sighed heavily, closing his eyes against her fondly mussing his bangs. She deserved far better than him. She hadn't even picked up on his cowardice, being unable to tell her how madly in love with her he had become. He was a failure, laid up in bed and eating up her youth. He had brought sickness into their lives and tormented her future with his worthless life.
"I know you didn't ask for this," he began, shaking his head lethargically as she opened her mouth to protest, "Please, Chizuru. Let me finish. Your brother suggested you leave me. That idiot Kazama has promised you a future countless times. Kodo-san would be thrilled. You're wasting your life with me. Even your friend Sen thinks you'd be better off without me. I think their right. You don't need me. I'm no good for you. I can't give you that baby you want. I'm too weak. I'm always tired, out of breath. I can't even hold my own bowl of food. You always feed me. Bathe me. Usher me to the bathroom. You didn't sign up for nursing a sickly husband. You didn't sign up for being with a pathetic man. You didn't ask for any of this!"
A culmination of feeling horribly ill, feeling a burden and being in love reduced him to frustrated tears. It seemed the only thing he could do was cry, as much as he had forced the urge away and despised the act for several months. He slowly rolled onto his other side, shielding her from seeing his emotional breakdown. He had come to the end of his rope, reduced to a grieving pile of sorrow.
"You should leave me," he choked out in a small whisper.
A warm petite hand rested against his back, rubbing soothing circles as she shushed him tenderly. She allowed him to release his pent-up frustration and self-loathing, knowing that a good cry might relieve some of his stresses. He was being all-too-hard on himself, as was expected of a warrior. It was so difficult to nurse the emotional needs of such an independent and stubborn man. She pulled back his blanket, settling down behind him. She wrapped her arms about his neck, planting kisses to his head as one hand stroked his chest.
"Shh, Souji, shh," Chizuru muttered into his hair, nuzzling her nose onto his head, "You're just having a rough day. It's perfectly expected to feel like this when you're so unwell. I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere. It's okay, it's okay. Just let it out, Souji. Let it out and I'll make you some daikon porridge, okay?"
"Food doesn't fix everything, Chizuru," Souji sobbed, wiping at his nose, "You're too good to me. I don't deserve this. You'll come to resent me. It's only been three months of this whole setup. You'll tire of me eventually. I can't give you anything. I can't give you a family and I promised it to you. What if these antibiotics make me sterile? There goes that baby we planned on,"
"We can always adopt," Chizuru mumbled tenderly, holding him all the tighter, "Don't despair, Souji. There's always hope,"
"What if we can't afford a baby?" He asked quietly, weakly lacing his hand with hers.
"Oh, Souji," she sighed in sympathy, shifting to rest her cheek on his, "I don't think you understand. I came to the Shinsengumi, a simple homecare nurse who lived a quiet and average life, even as an oni. Yes, I had a giant crush on Hijikata-san, but do you know who came to my rescue when he announced his engagement? Who asked after my feelings, Souji? Who listened to my woes and offered a solution, unorthodox as it was? You know him. I married him. He's such a feeling and good man. Kids and cats alike adore him. He's playful and mischievous, but I can't imagine having a life without him now. I don't care how difficult this time is. We're going to get through it. Do you know why, Souji? Because, you are my family. My life. My husband. I didn't ask for this, that's true. But, I don't mind. I want to care for you. I can't abandon you now. I got too close. I care too deeply for you. I'm not going to leave you, I'd rather die first. You're my husband, for better or worse. Yes, I want to be a mother, but the importance of that pales in comparison to my husband getting well. You're my life, now. I don't want to be apart from you. You're my everything,"
He could not respond. He wanted to tell her then, be the one to say he loved her first. His heart was so overwhelmed, all he could do was cry harder. She always managed to push away the debris surrounding his heart and heal him in the most broken places. He would be lost without her and the reality of being abandoned by her was too frightening a thought. He never wanted to lose her. He wanted to be selfish and keep her, even at the cost of her happiness. He loved her so much, his heart throbbed.
With great effort, he moved to lay upon his back and pulled off his oxygen, motioning from her to come closer with a tender half-smile. She smiled serenely, meeting him for a tender kiss. It was all he could do to express his gratitude. She balanced everything in his life and he would be lost without her.
"Never leave me," he begged upon parting, rubbing his nose on hers, "I'd be so lost without you,"
"Thankfully, the weight of my wedding band will keep me at your side, always," Chizuru promised, kissing his forehead, "Now, let's get you hydrated again and fed. No more silly talk of leaving,"
"How about a compromise? We're both so tired, I think a nap should be prescribed," he smirked, his eyes soft and sparkling for the first time in a while.
"Alright," Chizuru laughed, settling herself in the crook of his arm, "But, you're eating as soon as I wake up,"
"It's a promise," he agreed, wiping away his residual tears.
She was almost instantly asleep in his arms and exhausted as he was, he remained awake for a moment to watch his sleeping wife. It was as if he had an angel in his embrace. He placed a few weary kisses to her forehead, stroking his fingers through her hair. How serene and healing it was to hold her against him, watching how peaceful her sleeping expression was. How was this connection so precious fulfilling for him? She completed him in a way he could never express. He rested his forehead to hers, kissing her nose.
"I love you," he whispered, looking over her face with unveiled adoration, "One day, I won't be such a coward. One day, I'll tell you how you complete me. You deserve to know how I feel. One day, I'll be braver. I'll be better just for you. I promise. You can have all of me. I'll stop holding back. Just, wait a little longer, ne? I'm so scared of failing you... and... I'm talking to myself. Uh, Souji. Just tell her in person, ne?"
He chuckled to himself, yawning widely as his lids became heavy. Sometimes, there was no better emotional cure than a lengthy cuddle with his tender, feisty and cute wife. She was his everything.
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Anonymous:  Yo so idk how many request u have rn and I also don't wanna be like... annoying since I already requested two times but I just rlly can't get enough of ur writing so I'd like to request an Ateez reaction to ur bf/gf breaking up w/ u and ur all emotionally messed up and he (as ur bff (who maybe has a lil crushon u)) is kinda comforting u and eventually even confessing idk let ur creativity flow :) hope ur doing good, have a great day/night!!💝~💎
A/N: Yo so you’re not being annoying by requesting multiple times like what! How could you say such a thing? You’re my first anon (I would die for you) and I appreciate your very existence. I am beyond happy in knowing that you enjoy my writing, and I hope you continue to do so. So, without further ado, here is the reaction my love! 💓💓💓💓
Hongjoong
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Your pained cries were the only sounds that disrupted the silence in the room. You clung onto Hongjoong like he was your lifeline, and you were close to dying. You felt like it, at least. The pain that has been inflicted on your heart just felt too overwhelming. 
Hongjoong, on the other hand, was trying his hardest not to succumb to his anger. For the umpteenth time, your douchebag of a boyfriend - well, ex-boyfriend now thank God - hurt you once again. But, this time, Hongjoong was uncertain if you’d ever come back from this agony. 
Your ex cheated on you. After everything you had put up with, the deception, the temper tantrums, the degrading, the possessiveness, the controlling egotistic remarks, he decided to cheat on you on your first anniversary! Unbelievable! Joong knew the guy was a tool but this just put the cherry on the top.
Joong tightened his hold on you, hoping that his embrace would keep you in one piece. He dreaded the moment he would let go and you would crumble like a fragile artifact. 
Joong kissed the crown of your head then, hearing you now settle down to heartbreaking sniffles. “I know it hurts, sweetheart.” He sighed heavily. “If only you were mine. I would treat you the way you deserved. Like a goddess.” He said this in a whisper as he rested his chin on the top of your head. He didn’t wish to confess like this while you were so emotional, but he still felt like it should be stated.
You raised your head up the slightest, gently kissing the underside of Hongjoong’s jaw. “I know, Joong. I know.”
Seonghwa
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“After everything I’ve done for that prick and he has the audacity to break up with me? The one who helped him get a job? The one who has been giving him money so he can buy food during his lunch breaks? The one who slaves over a hot stove to cook him lunch when he is tired of buying food?” With each jab thrown at the jerk who stormed off after breaking the relationship off, you tore off pieces of the tissue you had in your hands.
You chuckled humorlessly. “You know what? Good riddance!” You began to tear at the innocent tissue angrily. “I never needed him. I never did!” Your speed-tearing faltered, your shoulders dropped. “He wasn’t any real good for me anyway,” you whispered. Your bottom lip quivered. You finally realized that you shouldn’t have dealt with the mistreatment he was giving you as long as you did. You began to realize how foolishly invested you were in that awful relationship. You should’ve known better.
Seonghwa took hold of your chin, leading your eyes to meet his. His gaze was solemn with sparks of anger and disgust that could easily be assumed to be aimed at your slimeball of an ex-boyfriend.
Seonghwa caressed your cheek delicately as if you were prone to breaking under his touch. You probably were by the amount of emotions you were feeling inside. He then wiped away a tear that, unbeknownst to you, slid down your cheek.
“You know you don’t have to put on this false charade of you being unaffected by that douchebag, right? I know you’re hurting inside, y/n. That’s okay. I know you had deep love for him, even though he didn’t deserve one bit of it. But, you’re human, you’re allowed to love and, unfortunately, to feel pain and devastation. So, go ahead, cry. I won’t judge you. Not even a little bit.”
Like a dam that had collapsed from the strength of the water, your eyes polled with tears before they fell like paratroopers. You dived into Seonghwa’s chest, letting out all the heartache that enveloped your body in broken sobs.
Seonghwa didn’t hesitate to pull you closer to him, rubbing your back as you cried. He brushed your hair away from your face and, despite the situation, gazed lovingly at your face and the beauty you humbly held. 
As he placed his cheek on the top of your head, rocking you back and forth, he sighed deeply. “When everything has settled down, I would love to dote on you and cherish you the way you deserve.” He chuckled. “I think we both know you earned it after that tragedy.”
You giggled, hiccuping immediately after, unknowingly pulling on your best friend's heartstrings. You tightened your hold on his waist before parting your lips to speak the words Seonghwa didn’t expect to hear in a million years. 
“I would love that, SeongSeong.”
Yunho
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“Y/n, please, let me in,” Yunho softly said, knocking on your bedroom door. Upon receiving no response, he cursed to himself. He just had to put his foot in his mouth when you needed him.
You called him an hour ago, stating that it was an emergency and you needed him yesterday. Yunho, worried for your well-being, hurriedly packed his duffle bag with clothes and essentials and ordered a Lyft in a matter of five minutes. He didn’t wanna risk keeping you waiting.
Once he got to your place, you two sat down in the living room, where you let out a long-winded rant about your childish ex-boyfriend and how he completely embarrassed you during last night’s date. He assumed you were flirting with the waiter when, in actuality, you were engaging in some playful banter. But, being the stubborn mule that he was, he reprimanded you loudly in front of the other customers. It caused you to be kicked out of the restaurant. You were in shambles, utterly mortified over the spectacle.
And it only worsened from there when you gave him the silent treatment. He started calling you a brat and, eventually, once you got to your apartment, he called you a female dog. That was your last straw with anyone, no matter who they were.
You ended up kicking him out, losing your sense and going ballistic on him. It was satisfying seeing him taken aback by your sudden change in character but, once he was gone, you felt empty. Deflated. You didn’t understand what you did to deserve such mistreatment.
Yunho didn’t help the situation as he snarkily stated, “Well, I told you he was no good for you. But, with your head so far up his behind, I’m not surprised that you didn’t heed my warnings.”
Yeah, like that was what you needed in a time that you wished to be consoled. So, as you tried to keep the hurt and tears out of Yunho’s sight, you hurried for your bedroom. Yunho, quickly realizing his poor timing in wanting to say “I told you so,” raced to catch up with you. But, you were a second quicker as you almost had him kiss wood.
Twenty minutes have passed, leaving you to grow needier for some human contact, and Yunho to dwell in self-loathe. The silence was sometimes disrupted either by Yunho’s deep, sad sighs or your solemn sniffles. Your eyes were dry of any tears. You were back to feeling empty all over again.
“Y/n,” Yunho called, prompting you to look toward the door. “You know why I act like this? I know it isn’t right, nor is it excusable, but, the reason why I responded the way I did earlier was because...I love you. No, scratch that. I’m in love with you. Muffin, I have fallen for you. Your melodic laugh, your gentle tone of voice that could lull a puppy to sleep, your wise eyes, your down-to-earth mindset. I mean, there truly isn’t a thing that isn’t to fall in love with. 
Sweets, I’ve always wanted it to be me you’d end up with. But, until now, I’ve been hiding away my feelings like a dog does its tail when scared. I just didn’t wanna risk ruining our friendship. But now I say screw it. Because there is no way in Hell that we could break up. You are the puzzle piece that I need. We connect mentally and emotionally. What I’m trying to say is...is that...” He groaned, fishing for the right words. “What I am saying is that I want to be the man who-”
You pulled the door opened, immediately meeting the adorable brown eyes of the tall prince. You two stared at each other for a while. But, then, the corners of your mouth slowly lifted into a smile. Yunho slowly exhaled, having had held his breath.
You grabbed hold of Yunho’s hand, keeping eye contact the entire time. You lifted his large hand to your cheek, snuggling into the warmth it retained. Yunho could feel himself becoming putty.
“You’re the puzzle piece that I need too, Yunie.” You gazed up at him, showing him acceptance and love that he has been dying to see for the longest.
He felt like he had finally found the hidden oasis to your heart. 
“I swear to treat you like the queen you are, muffin.”
Yeosang
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“So, I seriously can’t go to his house and egg it?”
You responded first with countless sniffles, trying very hard to reel in your emotions. You dabbed your eyes with a tissue as you spared your best friend a sideways look. “No, Sangie. You can’t egg his house. You could get arrested.”
“But he hurt you.”
“And you think the best way to get back at him is to egg his house? He could just clean that crap off.” You sat back into the couch cushions then, fiddling with the tissue. “No scars are gonna remain.” 
Tears quickly welled up in your eyes, causing you to turn away and stifle any whimpers that tried to escape your chapped lips. Yeosang watched you with pity, careful not to let you see it on his face. He knew the minute you do you’ll feel even more pathetic than you already did. You always hated getting doted on or receiving sympathy from others. It eventually led you to shut out your vulnerability, leaving it for the times you are by yourself, sobbing in the confinements of your solidarity.
Yeosang, mustering up as much confidence as he could, grabbed hold of your shoulder and forced you to turn around to face him. You kept your face down, refusing to let Yeosang see you in such a miserable state. But Yeosang didn’t care one bit. He was happy in knowing that you felt comfortable in allowing him see you with your emotions on display, with your heart on your sleeve. He wanted nothing more than to tend to you and your beaten heart.
With a tight grip on his nerve, Yeosang took hold of your face, cupping it in his hands tenderly as if you were a porcelain doll. He rubbed his thumbs across your cheeks, hoping that you could feel his love for you through his soft touches.
“Y/n,” he began before wetting his lips. He took a deep breath in, his nervousness bucking within him like a raging bull. “Darling, you’re so special to me. More than you can ever know. And, as cliche as it may sound, it physically hurts me when you date these boys who don’t respect you. They don’t see the halo that envelops your body. They’re blind to it. Because you are an absolute angel and deserve nothing less than the love and tenderness that you deserve in your life. Y/n, you deserve the world! And...I want to provide it to you. I know it’s probably in poor taste to confess my feelings to you at this sad point in your life but I just felt like I was-”
He was cut off by the feel of your plush lips against his. His eyes were the sizes of soccer balls as he tried to fathom the turn in events. But, the glorious feel of your lips molding into his had his eyes flutter shut. In no time did he recapture your cheeks in his hands. He pulled you in closer, relishing in the blissfulness of finally kissing you. Embracing you to the full extent that he wanted to. He was gonna show you that you were a queen that needed to be worshipped. He was going to cherish you.
San
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Quiet sobs and heart-wrenching whimpers were the only sounds that disrupted the silence in your bedroom. You clutched onto San tightly, prompting him to pull you in closer as well. The pain in your heart was overpowering, weighing down on you like cement blocks. The only way to keep you from crumbling under the extreme weight was by holding onto San, who has been nothing but comforting and a great support system.
A couple of minutes passed before your cries ceased. Now, you were just laying on San, thinking of nothing as your face dried from the salty tears that stained your face. San, still being as quiet as a mouse, never stopped rubbing your back. Rising and falling along with his chest as he breathed caused you to fall under the impression that you were on a boat, bobbing along to the calm waves of the ocean. It was a lovely reminder that you were not alone in this awful moment in your life.
You rose up then, causing San to drop his arms from around you and fiddle with the hem of your (his) sweatshirt. He peered at you expectantly, his eyes soft like a puppy’s. You couldn’t help but admire him for a few heartbeats. His face was serene with the slightest hint of sadness. Sadness toward you, of course, his one and only.
He reached his hand out then, lightly touching your face as if not to startle you with the contact. You dipped your face deeper into the palm of his hand, happily welcoming his touch. San smiled then, a gentle one that had yet to be adorned by his dimples.
After a few moments of comfortable silence, San spoke, but quietly as to not harm the silence. “Listen, Y/n... You might not want to hear this right now but, I need to say this or else I will continue to have this restless ache in my heart that I know will kill me one day. 
“Princess, you are a gem. You are a precious part of my life that I cherish with every fiber in my body. I hate seeing you frown. Your cries inflict so much pain within me. Baby, you’re a flower. He was weed killer. He was diminishing your light and that was the most sinful thing he could have ever done to you. 
“Again, you might not want to hear this but, I love you. I’m in love with you, to be frank. I don’t want to ever see sadness take over your beautiful face. If I ever were to be the cause, I would fall to my knees and repent. And you know why? Because you matter to me. Without you," he sighed heavily, "I don’t think my days would be as bright as they are when you are with me.”
Tears poured over your waterline. But, this time, it wasn’t due to how melancholy you were feeling. No man has ever conveyed such poetic words like San just did. No one went out of their way to say such sweet words to you with as much sincerity and love as San did. His eyes, observing you carefully, were gleaming with hope for your answer and adoration that genuinely displayed his feelings for you.
Without saying a word, you let your actions do the talking. You leaned down and wrapped your arms around his neck. Instinctively, San engulfed you with his strong arms, pulling you so close that he could’ve fused your bodies together.
You then placed a soft kiss on his cheek, letting your lips linger on his smooth skin for a few seconds before snuggling into his safe embrace. This is where you belonged. At this moment, you flourished, and thus you wished you could freeze time. You were finally back to being a full-grown flower, no longer wilted, as you had San, your water, soil, and sunlight.
Mingi
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Thirty minutes ago, you texted Mingi to come to you two’s favorite spot immediately. And the moment you texted “I need you,” Mingi’s confusion disappeared like smoke as he dashed for the closest hoodie and practically ran out of the dorm. 
Now, as you two softly swung back and forth in your chosen swing, you two were embraced by a pregnant silence. It calmed you more ways than one. It seemed to coddle you, providing you some peace that you dearly needed. The fight you and your ex had was explosive, and it didn’t help that you saw a naked broad exit the bathroom, asking in her child-like voice where the shampoo was. To think that you were gonna be the pushing force for him to change his player ways. All your friends  warned you and told you that you were putting your heart in the battlefield. Your poor, innocent heart.
Mingi glanced at you nervously, unnerved by your cold expression and hard gaze. Upon his arrival, you merely whispered a “hi” before having him sit with you in this annoying silence. Whispers turned to shouts as they demanded Mingi to say something, anything in order to snap you back into reality. He was afraid you were too deep in your thoughts. He knew you did that a lot when you were bothered by something. But, usually, when you felt hurt, you would confide in Mingi the minute you two saw each other. It was almost like an instinct more than it was a habit.
Mingi, finally gathering some courage, cleared his throat awkwardly. You didn’t even blink. That was when he knew you were in too deep at that moment.
Swiftly, Mingi made his way over to you, standing in front of you. But, you were still unfazed by him. He then seized your face, jerking your head up so you may be looking into his gentle gaze. You blinked then, your eyes widening the slightest at how close you two’s faces were. 
Mingi brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his eyes scanning your entire face. Whatever he was preparing to say flushed down his throat like a toilet. He gulped, unintentionally pushing the words further down his throat. He had to clear his throat a few times to prevent himself from choking.
His irises scurried over your face hurriedly, as if they were trying to indulge themselves in your quiet beauty without looking too greedy but also not too stingy.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, talking more to himself than you. “How could someone be dumb enough to mistreat you as if you were some ordinary rock? You’re a freaking diamond, for God’s sake! How does one not know the difference?" He scoffed. "Oh, I know, someone who doesn’t understand true value. But I do and your value goes above and beyond. Because you are worthy and I feel like a peasant as I dream of being with you. Appreciating you. Loving you.” He shook his head slowly, closing his eyes for a moment, and inhaling deeply. 
He opened his eyes. Immediately, they refocused on you like a Polaroid. He blanched then, realizing that his rambling was not in the privacy of his mind. 
You, on the other hand, had a rosy hue inhabit your face. Your hands were trembling. What your best friend accidentally conveyed to you was your emotional undoing. Your eyes became glassy as you maintained eye contact. 
Mingi nibbled his pillowy bottom lip, dreading your reaction to his confession. You just got out of a relationship and he decides now to confess to you? Freaking fantastic!
You inhaled a shaky breath, hesitating on what to say to the beautiful man before you. You slowly swiped your tongue over your lips, parting them the slightest. “Can you help me see my worth?”
Mingi froze, staring deep into your eyes. Your eyes were glossy with vulnerability, an emotion that caused Mingi’s heart to crack. Your eyes held longing but also timidness. The man had to resist the urge to pull you into his chest.
Instead, Mingi bent down and pressed his forehead against yours. Before he fully settled into the position, though, he quickly lifted his head and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. He then put his forehead back on yours, sighing fondly. 
“I would be honored to show you, gorgeous.”
Wooyoung
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You heard a knock at your door, prompting you to hurry to open it. The minute you whipped it open, revealing the silver-haired young man, you broke out in loud sobs. 
“Yah!” Shocked, Wooyoung slammed the door behind him unintentionally hard and yanked you into his chest. He didn’t mean to be so aggressive but, the last thing he expected from your abrupt text was to see you in such an emotional state. You were never a crier. You only ever cried if you were angry or stressed. Thus, Wooyoung’s stress levels were boiling over.
Wooyoung rocked you two back and forth as he tightly embraced you. Your sobs were now muffled but your body shook from each hard cry that escaped your throat. Feeling you shake so violently had Wooyoung’s grip on you tighten even more. You were never the one to have this big of a breakdown. He was getting more and more worried about your mental health as the minutes ticked by. You had a part-time job, lived on your own, had rigorous studies to accomplish at your university, and you had a buffoon of a boyfriend who was inconsiderate and unbelievably rude when things didn’t go his way.
“He broke up with me,” you said in a shaky voice. Your cries calmed down finally, but the condition of your heart was unknown.
Wooyoung abruptly pulled you away from him, his eyes wide like saucers. There was a fire in his stare. 
He took hold of your face tenderly as if you were a day-old puppy. His gaze was soft as he scanned your face, but a flame would flicker alive every now and then as he wiped the tears off your lovely cheeks. He felt the vein in his neck throb. He wanted to punch something. Well, preferably, someone, and that someone was your pocket-brained ex-boyfriend. 
Wooyoung was snapped out of his angry thoughts when he felt your hand pat his chest. His eyes refocused on you, resuming eye contact. 
“Breathe, WooWoo,” you said, a small smile adorning your face. 
Just that smile alone gave him a smidge of hope that you would be okay. You needed to be okay. The thought of you being shattered from this breakup and becoming unrepairable destroyed him inside. You were his treasure, and he needed you with him on his journey through life.
Without thinking, Wooyoung leaned in and pressed his plush lips against yours. He suppressed a groan as he could finally feel the softness of your lips. It was thrilling. Like he was eating a forbidden fruit. And then he almost melted onto the floor when he soon felt your lips follow in sync with his, molding perfectly like puzzle pieces that have been united.
Suddenly, you pulled away. Fear, shock, and confusion shown in your eyes as your face remained as calm and collected as possible. You both were breathing unevenly as you watched each other closely. The silence was deafening.
You were the first to break the silence after a while. “Woo... What was that?” you asked slowly, still in a haze.
Wooyoung licked his lips, trying to quickly get a hold of his thoughts. He felt drunk off the long-awaited kiss. “I-I d-don’t know... I-I wasn’t thinking.” He groaned in frustration, running his fingers through his hair. The layers of thick hair moved beautifully, like soft sand on a beach. 
Silence fell over the both of you like an itchy wool blanket. You both felt jittery, hyper-sensitive, and utterly uncomfortable.
Finally, Wooyoung blessed you both with a break from the silence. “You know what? I know why I did it. You wanna know why? I’ll tell you! Because I freaking love you that it should be considered illegal!” he exclaimed.
You blinked slowly, processing everything sluggishly as if you were a outdated laptop.
Wooyoung continued, pacing. “God, Treasure! You are too good for this cruel world. I just wanna stuff you in my pocket and protect you from all things evil! But I know that you can handle yourself with no problem, which makes me wanna love you even more! You just don’t understand how much my heart yearns for you, y/n. Your beauty, your humbleness, your intelligence, your cute beauty marks that seem to be scattered over your entire body, and your adorable nose crinkle when I bop your nose is just the thing I need to see to decompress. All of those things cause me to have nothing but undying love for you and I want nothing more than to express that to you and appreciate your existence!” He took a deep breath, pausing from creating a strip in your floorboards. He knew he just spilled everything he felt for you in an angry-sounding rant (the complete opposite of what he had in mind when he would be presented the opportunity to finally confess) but he felt like he was getting closer to combusting the more he kept his feelings under wraps. He felt like he was unraveling.
You soaked everything in like a submerged sponge. You felt as though Wooyoung had some type of crush on you over the years but you grew denial. As handsome as Wooyoung was there was no way that he would like you. You were decent compared to him.
An unknown force got the better of you, pushing you closer to Wooyoung until your lips met his. Wooyoung stiffened for a second before relaxing his body and moving his plush lips against yours, coating them with the love he retained toward you like a salve.
You two separated after a while, taking in deep breaths. You two gazed into each other's eyes the moment you opened them, taking in each other in a new light.
“Be mine, please, Treasure,” Wooyoung said, a strong plea in his hushed tone.
You smiled at the nickname, peering deep into his eyes, knowing good and darn well that no one could ever make you safe from mere eye contact like this man standing before you. You knew your answer before you even conveyed it.
“Give me time and I will.”
Jongho
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“Are you sure I can’t break his legs off like an apple?”
You rolled your eyes in annoyance toward the repetitive question. But, despite the fact, you had a little smile on your face. “No, JongJong. You cannot break his legs off like an apple.”
Jongho huffed. “But why not?” he whined.
You fought back a laugh at his childish action. “Because then you would go to jail for assault and I don’t want that. Who would comfort me and remind me of my worth when you’re away?” You said the question quietly, blushing against your will.
Upon your inquiry, Jongho also blushed. He tore his eyes away from your lowered face and looked elsewhere, clearing his throat. He didn’t want to have an awkward ambiance between you two so he decided to speak. “Well, I guess that is a pretty good reason not to risk being locked up. But I’m not happy about letting that kid walk around unbruised.”
“Well, I guess you’ll have to deal with it then, huh?” You looked up at your best friend then; your glassy eyes sucker punched Jongho right in his heart.
Jongho licked his lips slowly, carefully contemplating on his next move. You watched him innocently, your mind forcefully made blank for your heart’s sake. You solely wanted to focus on this moment and this moment in life only.
Jongho reached his arm out slowly, hesitating briefly, before laying his hand on the top of your head and then sliding it down, stroking your hair. His actions were comforting to a tenfold. You smiled at the boy, grateful to have him by your side.
“You know I love you, right? More than anything in the world?” he asked, softly. Then he thought for a second before adding quickly, “Well, along with my family, of course.”
You chuckled, looking down momentarily before reconnecting your eyes with his. “Yes, I know.” Your voice was just as soft.
Jongho ran his tongue over his lips a couple of times, almost provoking you to ask him if he needed some chapstick. But, you knew he was only doing that because he was nervous. What you didn’t know was the cause of his nervousness.
He quickly flickered his eyes between your lips and your eyes before seeming to finally decide what he was gonna do. Thus, he leaned in close, causing your breaths to become quite shallow. Your chest felt constricted. The hairs on the back of your neck stood straight up. 
For a moment, Jongho stayed there, his lips barely brushing against yours. It was as if he was inhaling your scent, grasping your existence. Finally, he decided to do something better, by kissing your forehead instead. Your breathing stuttered slightly, causing Jongho to smirk. Your reaction gave him hope.
He leaned back, carefully analyzing your face. You provided him nothing as you kept your expression serene.
Moments ticked on like that as you two remained staring at each other. But it was unnerving as you two seemed to be gaining new perspectives of each other. It was a perspective that revolved around an uncharted territory that neither of you could predict the outcomes for entering it.
You finally woke your voice up and spoke. “Why...why did you kiss my forehead?”
Jongho took a deep breath before speaking. “Well, firstly, I don’t think a kiss on the lips would be appropriate due to the state that you’re in right now. And then, secondly, is because I still wanted to express the amount of love I have for your cute self. Also to promise you that I will forever care for you like the precious human being that you are.” He smiled shyly then after conveying such strong words.
You inhaled deeply, your eyes watering quicker than soil that’s been rained on. Jongho, concerned that he might have done something wrong, cupped your face gently as he looked deep in your eyes. 
“Crap! I’m sorry, y/n.” He threw back his head and groaned loudly. “The last thing I wanted to do was give you more feelings to deal with. Now, look at you. Jeez! What a great friend I am-”
You cut him off, sealing his words off with your lips pressed against his. Jongho yelped out of surprise but instantly melted into you. He let out a sigh as you two’s lips moved together like calm waves of an ocean, fully indulged in the beautiful sensation of your lips on his. No amount of dreams could compare to the real thing. 
Eventually, you two separated, your eyes gleaming with adoration and child-like hope for the next step in you two’s lives. Together.
No further words were said as you two embraced each other, content like no other.
A/N: Yay! I’m finally done with this! 🎉🎉 I would have been done with this one sooner but, for some strange reason, I couldn’t complete it on my phone and had to wait to get on my computer. Thanks Tumblr for making my life difficult for NO REASON! Anyway, at the end of the day, I am done and I am hopeful that you enjoyed it my dear 💓
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hyunnielix · 5 years
Text
Drive
After leaving Gotham after a freak accident, settling down in Detriot seemed like the best option for you except all you can think about is him and what you left behind.
Pairing: Dick Grayson x Y/N (Titans)
Warnings: Angst, Maybe fluff if you like squint (and at the end), It’s sad
Word Count: 1.9k
Your laugh, echoes down the hallway
Carves into my hollow chest, spreads over the emptiness 
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The call you had received from Dawn just yesterday prompted you to leave Detroit on an eight-hour mission to get to Washington DC, you knew how much of a disadvantage they had especially with Hank being near-fatally injured on their last rendezvous.
You tried convincing them to leave the crime-fighting to Batman and the other vigilantes, but yet again they refused to listen.
So here you were, standing outside of their rundown apartment contemplating whether you should knock or leave, you made a promise not to fight any more, since the last time it got out of hand you lost one of your best friends.
Deciding against either of those options, you wrapped your hand around the metallic silver handle of the door entering without any warning whatsoever.
A rough kick to your shin sent you into fight or flight mode, a flash of platinum hair was all you could see once you fell to your knee waiting for the next move.
Flipping your body weight backward, you let out a wheeze as Dawn placed the heel of her stiletto dangerously close to your throat.
“Y/N?” She tilted her head, eyebrows furrowed as she realised who the intruder was taking her heel off you to allow you to breathe.
Letting out a strangled laugh, you nodded reaching for her outstretched hand for you to grab pulling you up easily and dusting off the remnants of the dust that covered your clothes.
“That’s my name don’t wear it out,” You jokingly sighed, awkwardly gripping the handle of your duffle bag in front of your body as you stood up.
“You should’ve knocked,” She exclaimed, wrapping her arms around your torso and embracing you in a welcoming hug, friendliness radiated off of her which was something you hadn’t felt in a while.
“I was going to,” You sheepishly smiled, scrunching your nose up in the process, your inability to be logical even took you by surprise as you expected yourself to be dead by this age to be completely honest. The amount of enemies you made in Gotham was more than frightening especially for a teenager.
“What’s she doing here,” the hostility of the voice wiped the smile off your face as you came face to face with Hank, his overpowering figure eyeing you with what you could only recognize as disgust.
“Hank, I can explain,” the words fell from her mouth calmly, she always knew how to handle worded situations better than you which you were beyond thankful for. She managed to save your ass on multiple occasions all you could try to do was repay the favour.
“Did you call her?” He asked almost accusingly, the guilty silence that followed after the sentence made you feel more than uneasy.
“I’m going out for a while don’t expect me to be back soon,” He grumbled, brushing past the both of you rather aggressively and reaching for the keys off the table stand. The door slammed shut and you caught Dawn's noticeable flinch as she let out an exasperated sigh.
“If I knew it would’ve caused this much trouble I wouldn’t have come,” You mumbled sending an apologetic look towards her which made the corner of her lips upturn slightly.
“It’s fine,” She replied, throwing the whole situation under the mat figuratively. You stopped pressing the issue and nodded solemnly, placing your duffle bag on the floor underneath the side table.
“You look famished, I’ve got food in the fridge help yourself,” She offered, placing her hand on your lower back and guiding you towards the tiny but humble kitchen with incredibly paint-chipped walls.
A repetitive knock at the door caught both of your attention, eyebrow raising at Dawn she mouthed an ‘I’ll take care of it’ reassuring you whilst doing so. Leaning down to open a cupboard, you reached for the blue aquamarine coloured plates while overhearing the chattering of multiple people in the hallway.
Striding through the kitchen and into the living room that connected to the hall you paused, staring only at the scratched plate as your fingers ran over the ruined ceramic.
“Are these the right plates Dawn?” You asked a small smile on your face until you moved your gaze up, staring at the familiar people who stood there mouth open in shock. Gasping, the plate slid out of your hand colliding with the hardwood floor in a sickening smash.
“Dick?” Your voice was shaky, almost questioning if he was really right there in front of you. The look on his face was a mix of awe-struck and complete utter confusion.
Kneeling on the ground, you managed to rip your gaze from his, beginning to pick up the broken pieces of plate that now decorated the floor nicely. He also moved forward and knelt on the floor, helping you clean up the mess but not daring to speak a word to you.
His hand brushed against yours softly causing your reflexes to pull back almost violently reeling from the thought of him, you couldn’t read the expression on his face but you could tell he was hurting it wasn’t that hard to piece together.
“I’m sorry D-Dawn,” You stuttered, standing up whilst placing the broken pieces of plate onto the dining table as she hastily replied with ‘doesn’t matter’.
“I’m Rachel by the way,” the smaller girl who had stood next to him donned in all black with vibrant purple dyed hair said, smiling softly as she held out her hand for you to shake.
��I guess you three are staying for the night?” Dawn asked, the ghost of a smile on her flawless face as she tapped on the wall. You all nodded in unison which made Rachel let out a small laugh.
“I’ll show you to the spare room,” You prompted her, eager to get away from Dick’s menacing gaze as you began to show her around. Entering the room, you slid the glass door behind you letting out a shaky sigh while doing it.
“So what was that about?” Rachel asked, her ocean blue eyes filled with curiosity as she plummeted onto the bed smiling at the comfortableness of it.
“Hmm?” You hummed, too lost in your own train of thought to hear what the girl had stated.
“You and Dick, it seemed pretty serious,” She reiterated, sitting on the edge of the bed as if she was waiting for a story to be told.
“We just have a history that’s all.” You explained, the nostalgia getting the better of you as memories began to flicker past replaying like a movie in your head.
“You’re cute kid,” You mumbled, patting her arm before standing up abruptly and sliding the glass door open leaving her to rest.
Before you could walk away, a hand wrapped around your upper arm jerking your body back slightly. You knew it was him.
It almost pained you how you couldn’t run your fingers through his fluffy brunette hair and crack stupid jokes that both of you would laugh at, it wasn’t as simple as that anymore.
“We need to talk,” His voice was deeper than you remembered it taking you slightly off guard as you shakily removed his hand from your arm.
“Yeah, we do,” You stated coldly, refusing to look at him in the eye.
Wandering up the many steps of the stairs leading to the rooftop of the apartment complex, you hung loosely behind him, the silence almost comforting yet the thoughts in your head were racing at an incomprehensible speed per minute. The outcomes of this confrontation scared you, you already lost him once you didn’t want to do it again however you feared this was how it was going to end between the both of you.
“Who’s starting first?” You asked, crossing your arms across your chest to keep yourself warm.
“I did it for your own good,” He muttered as if it was like a promise to himself in some sick and twisted way, making you feel even more disheartened. 
“You made me believe that you were dead!” You exclaimed letting your emotions overtake your rational thinking as you took a step forward as if to taunt him.
“I’m not good at the staying part, you should know that more than anyone,” He hesitated as if he could use it as an excuse.
“Yeah well I’m not good at coping without you, okay is that what you want to hear? because there I said it,” You confessed, blinking rapidly to prevent the oncoming tears from spilling you knew once they started they couldn’t stop.
“How hard is it for you to swallow your pride for a second and just apologize?” You almost begged, needing to feel some kind of resolve. Rendering him speechless, you continued on.
“Nevermind, I shouldn’t have expected any different from you,” You let out a choked laugh, using the sweater you wore to wipe away the tears that were running down your cheeks pathetically so. Turning around, you strode towards the door ready to go back inside.
The rest of the afternoon was pretty uneventful, You eventually found yourself accidentally eavesdropping on a conversation between Rachel and Dick as you leant against the paint-chipped wall staring up at the ceiling. 
“So You and Y/N?” She asked, yet again unable to stop her nosiness. 
“No,” He faltered slightly at the word, sounding unsure of himself for the first time you’d heard since you had met him.
“You realise its impossible to lie to me right?” Rachel sighed boredly, an unamused expression plastered on her face as she waited for him to answer.
“When we were younger,” He shut down quickly, pacing around the bed and towards the entrance of the room trying to leave.
“Why did you hurt her?” She questioned, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side like a lost puppy.
“I didn’t mean to,” He turned his head around, eyebrows furrowing as the words left his mouth. 
“That’s not an excuse,” She scolded him, knowing how it felt to be hurt by someone you love, she could feel your pain when she had touched hands with you and what you were feeling was worse than heartbreak. 
“Yeah, well it’s all in the past,” He snapped, losing his patience with the young girl you knew he wasn’t good at looking after kids especially teenagers, Bruce has definitely rubbed off on him in the bad way that's for sure.
“Not for her,” Rachel exhaled, looking yet again disappointed in Dick as he nodded lips upturning into an almost sad smile before leaving the room.
A curse fell from his lips as your glossy eyes met his, he knew in an instant what you had heard and felt beyond guilty as you stood frozen in the hallway.
At least you knew how he truly felt, collecting your duffle bag in your hand you began to make your way to the door tears threatening to spill yet again.
“Y/N, Y/N wait!” He exclaimed, striding over to the door to stop your hand from opening it almost desperately.
“I’m sorry,” He sounded sincere as he stood in front of you, face just inches away from his as you dropped your hand from the silver metallic handle.
“It’s a couple of years too late for that,” You mumbled, biting your lip to stop your chin from trembling
“No, it’s not,” He reassured you, lifting your chin up ever so slightly giving you no choice but to look at him.
His gaze noticeably lingered on your lips as yours did his, leaning forward he placed his hand around the back of your neck pulling you into him. 
“I don’t want to lose you again,” You exhaled, your foreheads touching as you tried to prevent a smile from adorning your lips.
“You won’t.” He reassured you, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear gently and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.
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estrangedaframian · 6 years
Text
Ninety-Nine Percent Better
Pairing: Castiel x Reader
Word Count: 1,589
Summary: While hunting for a Whisper (aka were-pire) with Castiel, Reader must contend with their social anxiety. Fluff and mixed-feelings ensue.
Prompt/Request: Castel x Reader with Social Anxiety by @fandomsthatkandiceloves
Rated: PG. Mild language, mentions of violence.
A/N: This marks my first-ever ‘reader x’ story, so please let me hear your thoughts. I tried to keep the reader as inclusive as I could, while still providing a bit of a lovey edge to her/him. That said, the love can be perceived as either romantic, or non-romantic. Whichever you like best, or feel... Great for boils and ghouls of all ages! (The use of Y/N has been replaced with a double-underscore.)
~ Enjoy!
(gif credit on watermark)
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You were a hunter who preferred staying indoors, and that made you a walking, stalking— shooting— paradox.
Castiel, as it happened, was a paradox of biblical proportions. And so naturally, you two got along swimmingly. You liked the Winchesters well enough, but they were also bleak in that very human way— though if it hadn’t been for their flanneled hospitality, you wouldn’t be here, after all— maybe alive, maybe dead— but certainly not in a bunker in Lebanon, Kansas, sitting comfortably as an honourary person of letters in the vein of Henry Winchester and Josie Sands…
Your buddy Cas, on the other hand— despite his Neo-Noir good looks and according hint of aftershave— was never truly apart from his Precious Moments milieu. The Angel was at once the essence of everything you felt was missing in humanity; as well as the too few parts you loved about it.
As the harvest sun settled, a cornucopia of cumulus hanging low, the muddy earth gripping the soles of your boots— the supply store came into view. The storefront was brick, capped off by a bright red awning, an inexpensive vinyl-like material printed with bold black lettering: WE SELL AMMO.
Your partner for this particular hunting trip was none other than Castiel. He wore one of the same number of coat-and-tie combinations he always did, but something about the sky and him on this evening… You couldn’t describe it, but it appealed to you. He appealed to you. Much so. That kindness, that raw power. The manner in which the wind tousled his humble haircut, teasing his put-on-backwards tie to the point where it flapped like a lame-winged bird, and how he almost seemed to be the causal force of such wacky yet refined weather.
His proximity to you was meticulous, one step behind you—two or three, if you got excitable— and his feet made no more disturbance over the crisp forest floor than a squirrel’s paws might have. Less perhaps, for Castiel wasn’t the least bit squirrelly.
“There,” he spoke, his voice hushed, almost hallow, and he placed a hand on your shoulder, pointing you in the direction of the store.
“… That place? What about it, Cas?” The present and ongoing pursuit of a ‘Whisper’ wanted you to be tense, but you couldn’t be; not while God’s grace disguised as a private dick was THIS close to you.
Generally, Castiel’s expression remained unchanged from that of saccharine and matter of fact, but as his ocular oceans sank down to his shotgun’s empty barrel, you knew he was feeling heavy-hearted about something or other.
“I’m out… and I know you are, too.” Intense light poured from a sliver in the Angel’s wounded cheek— slashed early on in the hunt by the elusive ‘were-pire’ which was your prey of the hour, as it were. Watching your back, he simply had not the time nor strength enough to fix it. “Speak not of your condition, __.” Cas raised his hand from your shoulder (you were amazed at how long he let it linger there), and began rummaging in his coat’s inner pockets. “I saw it in your heart— ”
Your breath hitched in your chest as he spoke— interrupting his serene, severe thought process— your aforementioned organ thumping inside you to the beat of an ill-tuned drum. For his sake, you mostly kept your composure.
“Wait. What do you mean? You lost me, buddy,” you said, your attention torn between Castiel and the ominous dead-end surplus in the foreground of where you and Cas both stood by quietly.
“Social anxiety.” He blinked, completely non-judgmental, his face awash with all the caring and stone of a Churchyard. This face— Castiel’s face— would be the death of you, you thought, struck again with the duality of the earth Angel you cherished above all others— Angel, and non.
You wanted to speak, wanted to explain yourself.
“You thought I was going to ask you to go into there… I was,” he confessed plainly. “With my vessel as it is, I thought our ‘luck’ at getting what we need approximately ninety-nine percent better at your behest.”
Forever befuddled, you allowed yourself to slump to the ground in an exhausted, marginally comfortable, sitting position. Castiel followed suit, assuming a gargoyle crouch at your side.
“I can’t lie to you, Cas— Yeah, the place rubs me the wrong way. Same as every public place does, except this one has the element of cobwebs and surprise! Has anyone even been inside there in the last…  decade? Doctor Doom could be our cashier, for Christ’s sake!” Sorry, Lord’s name in vain. You grimaced out your apology, but Cas made no acknowledgement of either your slur or your sorrow.
In a manner he was as perplexed by your nature as you by his; he was hung up on your reference to comic villainy and improbable passages of time. You were a fool in the grand scheme of things, but you were his fool to protect.
Cas was now sitting alongside you, his transfigured legs stretched out in a sequence similar to your own. When did this happen? It seemed, as usual, his segueing was too fast for your human eye to conceive, and you cursed yourself for always missing out on strange little moments like these.
“If… Doom were the cashier,” Cas started slowly, way too deep into postulation, “that would be fortunate, wouldn’t it? The man wears much silver… We could fell him where he counts the change, and melt down his armour, and fashion it into new silver bullets.” He stared at you, his steely gaze fishing for a battle plan, his pink mouth not bent to any one emotion. It reminded you how helpless he was, all things considered.
Leaning, you pressed a tragic-hero type kiss to his brilliant wound, half imagining that your true love would seal it up ‘magically’. Alas, the blinding grace continued to shine from within Castiel’s cheek, and you still felt like shit thinking of how you would approach the employee lurking behind the blazing OPEN sign beyond.
“No matter,” Cas resumed, “I’ve thought of something. My angel blade— we shall pawn it for ammunition. Silver blades, in any case.” Belatedly, he raised an eyebrow in response to your PDA, but said nothing of it.
You sprang to your feet in protest. “No way!” Crap. Looking around, you lowered your voice. “I can’t let you do that over my stupid anx… What, Angel blades don’t work on Whispers?” You groaned, prompting Castiel to rise and subsequently embrace you. It was, in reality, his idiosyncratically tight grip on your arm, a silent ‘Get yourself together, man’. But you would gladly accept it as a hug.
“—They don’t. And it’s like you said, no one comes here. We can return for the Angel blade later,” Cas assured you. “I wouldn’t dream of letting it lie around for long. In the wrong hands… it’s suicide.”
“You’re really insisting, aren’t you? Well, at least let me put something over your grace… ” With several layers to spare, you reached for your thinnest shirt, and with a healthy tug— you tore off a portion of cloth. In a jiff, you fixed the makeshift bandage around Castiel’s head, taking advantage (inconspicuously if not innocently) of the chance to feel up his stubble and jawline. When you were through, the Angel looked passably pathetic— a regular ol’ guy after a regular ol’ hunting accident.
“There. Good as old!” Beaming, you admired your work. You didn’t even mind that Castiel forgot to laugh at your funny.
“Thank you… I won’t be long.” He handed you his everyday knife, hoping it would give you at least a little extra protection while he left you unattended. “We should continue down that way,” Castiel flagged the southwest of the store’s exterior, proceeding towards the entrance. “Wish me luck?”
“I love you, Cas.”
That’s when the door chimed. A moment later, you thought you could hear a peaceable back-and-forth between Castiel and the mystery worker, but perhaps that was the former’s powers putting your mind at rest. You wouldn’t know until he emerged— an arm through a thanks for shopping plastic bag heavy with goods, and the other arm wielding his angel blade.
“The cashier wasn’t Doctor Doom… ” Castiel informed you, as the both of you (now a kosher distance from the eerie place of business), continued walking. “He was a Whisper. THE Whisper.”
“WHAT? Why didn’t you shout, or send Angel... signals… or something?!” It was concern forming your words. That, and being bummed out at losing another shot at proving you could defend your star-crossed constant companion (that’s what you wished he was, anyways— your constant companion). “How did you… know?” He’d told you all the details before, but you’d never seen one in person. And though you got the gist of hybrids, the specs. were still very much above your understanding.
“He asked me when’s the solar eclipse,” Cas explained.
“And you killed him? Jesus!” Whoops. “Lots of people are interested in eclipses, and it doesn’t mean they’re a were-pire!” Dammit, Dean had all but drilled that title into your skull. “It’s probably the only thing someone like him— being someone from around nowhere— has going for him.”
“I told him it was today, and then he attacked me… ”
“Oh… Guess I owe you an apology. Sorry, Cas.”
“It’s tomorrow.”
*** END ***
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Text
History of Lazarius and Kross
(The Complete Post here)
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Lazarius would peer down at the single piece of parchment that was presented to him.  It was from Verzatea.  He knew exactly what it was.  He knew that she must have salvaged it from the Estate while he was in Uldum with his sister, Zalra, Maliscia and the Headmaster.  A time when his focuses were completely drawn on the Forge and making it.
“You bitch. . .”  he said softly looking down at the box that was sitting next to the parchment with a wide grin on his face, clearly this was as loving a name as he could give her.
Lazarius recalled the day he met the lady Duskflame.  Poeta De’Mour; his Grand Magus, marching up with the golden haired child who could have barely been breaking adulthood.  Her optimism quickly crumbled when the Inquisitor scoffed at her attempts to impress.  She was average, and barely able to hold a conversation.  Pathetic he though.
“What is it, Ser?” Kross; his faithful steward and oldest friend would quarry.
“Something I did not suspect she knew enough about to remember.” Lazarius responded as he skimmed the tag.  “Something I knew you would be unable to part with. . .”
“We are fearless, We are strong, We are Nine.” it read, he remembered saying that to her when they’d raised the Bastille.  Oh those long months alone wandering the permafrost trying to find those cursed entrances to Azjol Nerub.  For a long time the two of them shared a bedroll, camping night after night, attempting to rebuild a fallen order.
Opening the box, Lazarius would see that it was the skull.  But not just any skull.  No this skull was very important to him.  She knew; very precisely, where to look and how to find it.  Lazarius only showed her one single time and there was never another word spoken of it again.  Lazarius slowly slid the box toward the spectral gilnean as his white eyes drifted from his master, to his Mistress.
“Raelyndia. . .” the withered old man spoke as his words were ripped from his throat like pulling a weed by its root.
The former Mistress of the Nine, her skull perfectly preserved for all these years.  She peered back up at the old man and his charge as the two of them stood close together looking down at it.
“I had some inkling that you had recovered this. . .”  Kross said softly as if fighting off tears of his own, though sadly the spirit was unable. “How did she. .”
“Know?” Lazarius continued as he finished his sentence. “I had kept it safe for you for a very long time.  We recovered this when she and I raised the Bastille from its own grave.  There was never a part of me that had been so bold as to wish to keep something from you friend. . . but my intention was to recover your body one day Kross.” 
The withered old man looked to his master.  The boy who’d grown into a prince, and went on to serve as a hand to his own Mistress, defying odds to reign supreme over this order. He saw the child he cared for, and adored as his own.  He saw the man who was offering him so much more.
“When your time comes old man.  And you are able to rest, I wish to lay you beside our Mistress.  It felt appropriate for you both to sleep eternally together.” Lazarius placed an dark lambskin glove along the pleated coat of the elder. There was an embrace but only briefly.
“Master. . .” Kross had said softly.
Lazarius didn’t need to say a word.  He could see it clearly that the old man was not only proud, but painfully blissful as well.  No other cared for the spirit like he did.  Yes there were nods and gestures.  The order and council knew that he was loyal and would happily accept his sagely wisdom, but only Lazarius seemed to break through his defenses like this.  And rightfully so, they had been together for over two centuries.  Kross smiled, not something often seen.
“You honor my memory, Ser.” continued the steward.  His white eyes blinking several times as they moved from his former love, to his current master.
“Our time together Kross, all we have been through . . . everything we have seen.”  Lazarius chuckled and squeezed the old man tightly. “Do you remember when I returned from Nyalotha-”
“No you did not go to Nyalotha.”  Kross quickly snapped and looked back at the Inquisitor. “We aren’t sure where you went.”
Lazarius couldnt help but laugh.  Oh that debate went on for years. “Yes yes yes but do you remember afterward?”
“I remember having to hold you down on an operating table with Abbigael and saw through your breastbone to remove the cursed creature devouring your heart. . .yes, if that is what you are referring to.”  Kross hardly remember the memory as a fond thing.
“Oh yes I know you playing doctor was not one of your shining moments . . . but you did save my life.”  Lazarius responded as he tried to break through the old man’s gruffness. “You helped me then, and even years after when we merged the two . . . if I hadn’t had the original host, I would have died again.”
“This is starting to sound like a thank you.” Kross would mumble as he looked back at him again.
“It is . . . I was getting there.  You inadvertently saved me twice Kross.  You’ve killed for me . . . you’ve protected me.  Without you I would have been lost long ago, countless times.”  Lazarius was being sincere.  His black eyes contrasting against the pure white of his steward.
Kross waited for a moment as the words sunk in.  He wasn’t wrong.  But then again the old man was far too humble to just sit there and receive such praise. “I would like to believe that some of my patience and wisdom has helped you to grow more patient in these recent years.”
Lazarius nodded and smiled. “You are a great influence to me, Kross.”
There was a sudden knock on the chamber door as the meek little chirp of a mouse would suddenly pierce through the hall. “M-m-master . . . Lady Vari is in the dining hall . . . she. . . “
Kross absolutely knew what was going on.  She’d gotten to the mead again.  Vari was quite hostile these days and always wandered the halls and rooms looking for something to grasp to.  Trying to reach some connection to her life.  He calmly and carefully let the lid of the box shut and peered to his master.
“I will tend to her, she is. . .”  Kross began and let his words drift.
“I know.”  Lazarius said, already knowing that they shared something he and his twin could not.  And that was death.  Lazarius would gladly allow this moment to pass without him.  Kross could get through to the Harbinger like no other.  Another prime example of his value to this order.  Every person here shared a unique link to the old man.  It was always a blessing when he suddenly appeared, and a forlorn reminder that he was only a specter in the wind when he had vanished.
“Tell Lady Duskflame. . .I said Thank you.”  And vanish he did.  The gilnean would slip into the mist of white vapor that often manifested when he came and left.  Lazarius held tightly to the skull of his former Mistress.  He peered down at her open eye sockets, the bleached white bone of her cheeks and curves of her nostril airway.   He lightly ran his finger across the brow and smiled.
“Thank you. . .”  Lazarius whispered softly to the skull.  He was actually thanking his Mistress.  Thanking her for not only everything she had done to teach him and mold him into what he was today, but for the greatest gift she could have given to him without even knowing.  In her own selfish act of preserving her lover’s fragile mortality, she inadvertently gave Lazarius the greatest weapon she ever could.  Admiral Algus Kross.
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kaepop-trash · 6 years
Text
Grievances
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Rated: M for Smut, Angst.
Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader xYuta
Summary: The story of secrets, deceit and greed. Three characters with unlikely alliances and one common goal; power. Jaehyun is stuck between his own thirst for power and his need for the one thing that could take away everything. Yuta has ambition growing from an unlikely alliance and convinces himself to do anything to protect it. Between both of them is her, ambitious but with one weakness, she does all it takes for Jaehyun, even if it’s putting herself aside. But how long can she hold up her own fragile games?
Mini Masterlist
She couldn't stand it. The way he refused to share meaningful glances and secretive smiles. How he didn't even call her about work and she got used to his assistant's voice.
She sat beside him in the boardroom. All eyes on him and hers were no different. He talked about a dream, of democracy and goals but she stared at him.
“Is there something you'd like to add?” He turned to her, his insincere smile that only she knew how to distinguish. When she simply shook her head he moved on without another question, asking other people on his campaign like they were all equal in his eyes.
Her throat burned at his blatant ignorance of her presence and it stung from realisation of her pathetic need of his attention.
When her phone rang, she was thankful for the distraction. Getting up and walking out the room.
“You've never been to my house have you?” Sulhee said as (Y/N) entered a house grand in its structure.
“Haven't had the pleasure.” She answered politely and Sulhee laughed.
“Come. I'd like you to meet my father.” She said making (Y/N) hesitate but not refuse, following Sulhee.
“I don't think we've had the pleasure to meet, but I've heard many things about you.” Her father got up from his chair and took her hand in his as a greeting. (Y/N) smiled at him.
After having a pleasant conversation about the weather and politics, they both left and Sulhee insisted on walking around the garden with her.
“I’m going to start a non-profit firm to feed people who can't afford it. When Jaehyun gets nominated to a position in the administration, I want to be considered for ambassador.” Sulhee spoke with direction.
“You'll be his wife, that's unethical.” (Y/N) started like she was explaining to a child.
“No. Consider this my resignation letter. There are things I want to do, and I realise I can't do that while being a politician's wife. But I guess you know that too.” Sulhee gave her a empathetic smile.
“I always admired everything about you. Even when I saw you and him.” She paused, a frown naturally gracing her face, “From the first moment I just knew I was the imposter.” She breathed in deeply and turned to her with a smile.
“I envied your position of power, not because the man I love loves you. It took me too long to realise that. I want people to consider me valid in my own right, I don't want a part of my husband's influence.” She said with a decisive nod.
“It'll be bad. You realise it can't be him breaking up with you. He's run-” (Y/N) tried to explain.
“I'll release a statement. Any viewership that's sensitive to women. Say I want to do things, I can't be tied down yet. How Jaehyun was reluctant but agreed because my happiness is important to him too. Anyone who criticises either of us will look desperate or worse, misogynistic. If I do it right before the election it looks opportunistic, if I do it after we were deceptive.” Both of them cracked a smile at the irony.
“You'll need to do it now. But you'll need a reason, something that sparked your change.” (Y/N) calculated with furrowed brows.
“I'm leaving for Myanmar soon, I'm going to help with the refugee mistreatment there. I'll be loud and I'll be meaningful. In a few weeks I'll say my eyes were opened to the world and I want to keep doing this.” She sat down on a wrought iron chair and (Y/N) followed.
“It's flawless. There is no holes in this.” (Y/N) sounded so impressed Sulhee smiled, “What do you need me to do?” She asked.
“Getting a visa is hard.” Sulhee smiled sheepishly and (Y/N) laughed.
“That's it? The Secretary General's assistant owes me a favour.” She was already dialing on her phone.
She imagined it would be very different, she would fantasise about what would happen if Jaehyun wasn't engaged. Yet weeks passed and everyone found out from Sulhee’s statement.
“Did you know about this?” Jaehyun barged into her office one morning, his lips pursed and his forehead wrinkled.
“I made her the visa. Good morning by the way.” She looked up at him once then sipped her tea as she clicked on her laptop.
“Why didn't you tell me? This is a disaster!” He sounded absolutely livid.
“You haven't spoken to me in weeks remember?” She didn't offer him a glance.
"Stop being a child (Y/N) I'm trying to win an election. Look at me god damn it!” He banged his hand on the table so loud that she jumped, turning to him with shocked eyes before she got up with annoyance.
“I wasn't born yesterday Senator. I know how to handle a potential scandal.” She turned her laptop around to show him her screen, “People are calling you the spearhead of new generation of this country's politics. It's 7am and you're obnoxiously loud. Get out of my office Jaehyun, I have an election to win for you.” She sat down, not acknowledging him after that and he left with nothing else to say.
In three months, people had gotten over it. News moved fast and no one cared about a mellow breakup with justified reasons. In fact, Jaehyun wasn't the centre of news again till the elections were a month away.
“I am greatly humbled and also honoured that so many of you believe in me enough to give me your precious support.” Jaehyun spoke at his own rally, ignoring the fact that his campaign manager was missing. He ignored it for the past three months, not acknowledging the forced conversations and lack of personal moments. Jaehyun piled himself under the weight of the election and he knew she did the same.
There was no compromise with politics.
“I cannot believe the smiles and hope I see in all your faces today. And I promise that I will try as long as you want to serve you and help you.” The crowd cheered and applauded, so completely enthralled by the young man with promises of change and progress, selling the dream every American was willing to buy.
“Pennsylvania I promise you.” Jaehyun paused, the room holding on to his words as a smile erupted on his face, “That I will not rest till I've made sure the smiles on your face stay for a long time.” The crowd erupted in an uproar, standing up in submission and belief. Jaehyun was glowing from the energy, his skin sparking with the electricity he was spreading in the room with the art of his words.
As the crowd calmed down and Jaehyun prepared himself to speak once again, his press secretary ran up on stage, leaning into his ears and whispering in urgency. Almost immediately Jaehyun rushed off the stage, leaving a confused and charged crowd that complained as the press secretary calmed them down.
Yuta looked around the long corridor once again before turning back to her. It had been a hour since they came to the hospital and she hadn't said a word. She hadn't even moved as her gaze stayed fixated on the door ahead. Yuta considered saying something a few times, to at the very least place a hand of comfort on his shoulder. But he couldn't bring himself to, as he sat and heard the quiet mumbles of a hospital.
He settled at putting a hand on her knee, hoping he offered a small reassurance. He wanted to be there for her and it felt claustrophobic to not know how to comfort the person he could consider special.
They were having brunch, both of them talking about the election. Through the past few months, Yuta never found the right moment to ask why she was so forlorn. When they didn’t speak about the polls she only quietly ate.
“You should take a vacation after the election. You’ve earned it.” Yuta broke the silence, she looked up at him and smiled.
“I’ll have more work when he’s elected.” She sighed dutifully.
“Chief of Staff?” Yuta asked with curiosity.
“Naturally.” She said easily.
“Did he offer?” There was a silence at his words. (Y/N) watched Yuta for a moment, observing his expression. She looked away, casual surety in her eyes.
“He doesn’t need to.” She went back to eating and the silence returned.
When the phone call came, he didn’t hesitate to offer her a ride. Wordlessly accompanying her and waiting with her, offering silent comfort.
When her knee jerked, he looked up and followed her gaze. Jung Jaehyun rushed through the corridor with a frenzy in his eyes that Yuta could catch from a distance, his body guards also rushing behind him. Before he could come stand at her foot, she got up and walked up to him.
“Jae.” Her voice cracked for the first time since she came here with Yuta. She embraced him, burying her face deep in his chest as he brushed her hair, pain evident on his face.
Jaehyun glanced at Yuta, an unsure expression before he held her tighter, cooing her.
“I’m so sorry. I'm so so sorry.” It was all he could say. Her crying was louder this time, she tried to bury her face deeper to muffle the sound, but she only bawled.
“I don’t know why I’m crying.” She whined against his chest, loud sobs escaping her.
“He was your father.” Jaehyun’s voice was delicate, eyes rimming red. Both of them watched her carefully, pain etched on their faces in a way it hadn’t for a long time to either of them. For someone else’s loss. She pushed away from him after a moment, rubbing her eyes furiously and taking breaths till they were level.
“I need to see his body.” Her voice faltered but she composed herself. Jaehyun pulled her hand into his, holding it close to his chest.
“I’ll go with you. Then we’ll leave okay? Let’s not be here longer than we need to.” He rubbed his thumb soothingly against her wrist. She nodded, sniffing silently. Suddenly she stopped turning around with realisation.
“Yuta.” She said with a small gasp, remembering his presence.
“I’ll go, you don’t need too many people right now,” He looked up Jaehyun, a spark in his eyes. “Call me if you need. I’m always here for you.” He gave her a genuine smile.
“It was a cardiac arrest caused by high body temperature. The facility said he had a fever and antibiotics stopped working.” The coroner read out the report emotionlessly before slamming it shut and placing it on a metal tray.
“I’ll give you a moment.” He sighed, his footsteps echoing as he walked out of the sterile room.
Jaehyun watched her as she quietly looked at her father, lying immobile. Her eyes didn’t falter and her hands remained by her side. Jaehyun sighed softly, walking up behind her and brushing her hair of her neck before embracing her from the back.
“There’s no one except me and the dead. You don’t need to try so hard.” He breathed against her neck, placing his chin on her head. She put an arm around his and squeezed tight.
“He taught me how to ride horses. It sounds stupid but he told me that you need to be gentle to tame a horse and I never forgot that advice.” Jaehyun was almost relieved when he heard gentle sobs, holding her closer.
“It’s not like he was there anyway, but now he's.” She couldn't finish her thought at her own discretion. She stood there and allowed herself to be comforted by Jaehyun as she allowed herself to cry a little more.
“He wanted you to give his eulogy.” She sat across the older women, arms crossed and posture guarded. The women looked up, looking annoyed.
“When did he decide all this?” She spoke as she eyed the will the lawyers left with (Y/N). She looked up with a prominent frown.
“He wants us to invite his older business partners. He wants us to serve veal and he wants it to happen at the estate and he wants you to give his eulogy.” She spoke a little impatiently.
“Have you seen the will?” The women asked and (Y/N) sighed.
“Your lawyers will give you the details.” (Y/N) explained.
“The family estate.” The women ignored her.
“He left you your first apartment.” (Y/N) placed a file in front of her. The women sat back with confusion that turned to annoyance.
“I assume the estate is yours.” The women scoffed.
“After all these years you still haven’t changed.” (Y/N) sighed, sitting back promptly, defeat weighing down her voice.
“I made him you know, I was the reason your father had anything, and he had everything. Yet all he does is leave me that tiny apartment.” Betrayal played in her voice.
“He left it for you because that place has happy memories for you. Don’t be like this.” (Y/N) pleaded. The women laughed bitterly, shaking her head.
“He left it for me as a way to get back at me. You never saw your father for who he is, which is why he loved you that much.” The woman smiled victoriously.
“No, he loved me because my own mother was jealous of my father’s affection for me. And he didn’t leave you the estate because when it was going to be seized Jaehyun saved it.” She turned to (Y/N)’s words, a peculiar look in her eyes.
“How did Jung Jaehyun save our family estate?” She asked slowly. In all her years, (Y/N) had to admire her mother's talent for picking up the best information.
“Last year. When the court was going to seize the estate. Jaehyun filed a writ, he changed Pennsylvania law.” She avoided her mother's scrutiny.
“All for you? Jung Jaehyun sounds like world's most generous boss.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and sat back with her chin raised, a move (Y/N) had learned to associate with her mother's disapproval.
“He's my friend.” She sighed, already giving up on her mother.
“That's the biggest pity of it all. The father sends my husband to jail and The son uses my only daughter to his entitled whims.” She glared.
“Mother.” (Y/N) warned but even she knew it was fruitless.
“Your father raised you impeccably. You're smart and cultured the way a business tycoon’s daughter should be. Now look at you, you're waist deep in political mud. You aren't even running yourself, you get nothing from his accomplishments.” She spoke calmly, fully aware of that sound could travel outside the boardroom.
“Mr. Jung didn't send father to jail. My father stole money from him, something Mr. Jung lost a career in politics over. He stood in court and spoke the truth, something you and father should have done in the first place. You left long before that, I wasn't even expecting you to be there when my father was arrested, I only saw you in court. You aren't allowed to come here and treat me like a matured investment. If you know I'm smart you should know that my affairs are none of your concern.” She got up and picked up her coat, “I'll see you at the funeral, Mother.” She acknowledged her for the last time and left.
The next time (Y/N) heard, her mother had moved into the apartment.
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simplyyeol · 6 years
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home
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genre: domestic! AU, angst, fluff
pairing: oh sehun x reader
word count: 2.3k
author’s note: This was supposed to be a super angsty fic but I got way off track! I hope you like it, because I sure do. 
You took a quick glance at the clock and read the numbers that were shown.
3:24 AM.
He had been coming home late, but never this late. It was a first, if you could even call it that.
He, as in your boyfriend for over two years. He, as in the love of your life that you planned on marrying. He, as in the person that wanted to spend your last days with. He, as in the beautiful human being named Oh Sehun.
You could still remember the time when things were so simple. Back when the both of you were still in high school. Oh Sehun was one of the more popular people back in high school and you usually kept to yourself. You weren’t a lonely nerd that was shunned from society or a person that contained zero social skills. You just preferred to keep to your own friend group, finding the people you knew and who knew you the best rather then complete strangers who you acted like were your best friend, more comforting. More like home.
You knew that he didn’t even know your name and wouldn’t bother learning it, even if you both were going to the same school for years and you had been in multiple classes with him as well. It was just the way it was. He was popular and you were not.
So obviously, it was a big shock to you when you bumped into him and his friend, Jongin was his name, one day, and the next he took an interest to you. 
Interest as in him sitting next to you in the classes you had with each other (which he had newly found out, exclaiming when he saw you, “I didn’t know we shared this class also!” Safe to say that you were in many classes with him) and talking to your friends more than his own. It was also a big surprise when he asked you out and you both became the talk of the school (did people have no lives?).
It surely did take a big turn in your humble and small life when he entered it.
So a year later, when you still couldn’t believe that you were dating a heartthrob (aka Sehun, but if he knows you called him that, his ego would inflate even more so don’t tell him you said that), he asked you to move in with him.
He was obviously super sweet with it, making sure you were comfortable and reminding you that if he ever crossed the boundaries, you could run, but of course you moved in with him. He was Oh Sehun.
Oh how you wished you didn’t make that choice.
Fast forward to a few weeks ago. He had started to become more distant. He started to become detached from you, immediately going out to bars or hanging out with his friends right after work. You barely even saw him anymore with your own hectic schedule of being a nurse. It also never helped that he had been lying to you.
You usually waited for him to come back when he went out on his little adventures and he would come back home, drunk more so then not, and spilling his limbs over the cold tiled floor when he made it past the front door. 
One night, when you were helping him get back on his feet, you had noticed a little smudge of lipstick on the corner of his ear. You paid no mind thinking that some of your own had rubbed on it as you were helping him up, but now that you were thinking about it, you never owned that color.
The next time it had happened, you had pulled him into a hug when he was getting a little more emotional then normal when he came through the doors at midnight immediately seeking your embrace. You had smelled a different perfume then the ones you owned on him. You just thought you were getting jealous, because he could have friends that are girls as well, right?
You knew that you couldn’t keep on pushing this off. You knew that you couldn’t keep on lying to yourself, because in the end, when you were trying to fix your broken relationship, you would be breaking yourself instead. You have thought of countless reasons as to why he might’ve been doing this, but nothing positive ever came into your mind, and it drove you insane.
It was about time that you should straight up tell him that you knew. You knew that he was cheating on you.
After all this time, you had spilled your countless insecurities to him and he would always tell you that you were perfect, that you were more than enough to him, that you meant the world to him, so you couldn’t believe that he would be that type of person. But then again, you can never judge a book by its cover, even if you had looked at it over 100 times.
The door squeaked open and in came your boyfriend, a little tipsy, but still couldn’t comprehend anything as he had fallen into a pathetic heap on the floor. You rushed over to him to help him up, but decided better of it and pulled your hand back before walking away from him. You just needed to know that he made it home safely. It was no use in helping him anymore, if he only ever hurt you.
He noticed your strange behavior and called out your name which echoed throughout the confined room, that you came to call your home.
“Y/N! Where are you going? Can you help me up?” You flinched when he uttered your name but you kept your walls up and continued your way to the bedroom that you shared with him.
“I’m going to sleep. I’m tired Sehun, but I’m glad your okay.” You couldn’t keep this up anymore. Any day now your going to break and all your bottled up feelings would come rushing out in a childish fit of anger and you would have to bring Sehun into it. You couldn’t do that to him. Because after all it wouldn’t be his fault, it would be yours. You never deserved his love and you knew that he should be able to have the world, but all you could give him was your own insufficient self. You were too selfish for his own good.
You tucked yourself into bed and turned around to face the white wall that featured polaroids of the both of you on numerous trips that you had went on together. You looked so happy back then.
Through the back of your eye, you saw the light from the hallway filtering into the dark room and knew that Sehun entered the room to come to sleep next you. He never could sleep without you by his side, claiming that ‘it just doesn’t feel right without you’. He closed the door as softly as he could and tiptoed his way over to the lump of blankets covering you. You think that he saw that you were still awake from the way that a light laugh escaped his parted mouth before he came to join you on the half-empty bed.
He tucked himself next to you and trailed his arms around your waist to pull you closer so the distance between the two of you decreased to little to nothing.
You sighed because these were the times you loved the most. The times where you felt happy, comfortable, where you felt like you were home.
“Hey, Y/N?” His voice was no louder then a whisper but still enough for you to hear from the distance between both of you. “Are you mad at me?” 
Maybe right now would be a good time to bring it up. You can’t go prancing around for the rest of your life and thinking that Sehun would do those type of things. You couldn’t doubt him any longer or else the guilt will eat you up until the day you die.
“Hmm, maybe.” He gave a small but comforting squeeze before he asked you another question.
“Can I ask why?” You inwardly rolled your eyes. Even if he was to blame, he was still such a gentleman. Blame your damned heart but you were already forgiving him. You knew you shouldn’t. You turned yourself in his grasp so that you were now facing him with only the moonlight giving you light as to where he is.
Even in the shrouded darkness, and right before going to sleep, he still looked handsome. How did someone like you deserve someone as perfect as him?
“Why have you been staying out so late recently? I barely get to see you anymore.” You noticed him darting his eyes so that they would look anywhere but you. Why would he be nervous? It couldn’t possibly, no, you can’t think like that, not yet.
“No, Sehun, I’m worried.” You rested your hands on his chest and felt his temperature warming your cool hands. He let out a defeated sigh before shifting his eyes so they would lock with your own worried and defeated ones.
“It was supposed to be a surprise, but I guess I can tell you now.” He looked at you with hopeful eyes that shone bright underneath the moonlight.
“I was,” he gave a pause, “planning something.” His tone sounded doubtful. You gave him an ‘are you kidding me’ look and waited for him to explain further. You weren’t going to drop it unless he gave you an actual answer.
“Fine, I was planning a trip.” He looked at you to see how you would react, but couldn’t notice anything from your clouded expression.
‘So he wasn’t cheating on me.’ You guessed that all this time, you were just being paranoid, you were just looking to into things, you were just being self-conscious of yourself. How could you doubt him? What a bad girlfriend you are. You’re supposed to be there for him, and support him, and most importantly believe and trust in him. And yet here you are, thinking that when he was just trying to plan a trip for the both of you, he was cheating on you of all things! 
You didn’t realize that you had let a laugh escape, and immediately closed your mouth, because what would he think of you laughing in a serious atmosphere like this.
Your eyes drifted over to his own, which were looking at you bemusedly, almost as if he was laughing at the state you were in. You realized that was exactly what he was doing when his eyes crinkled into that beautiful eye smile of his, that snarky little shit.
He burst out laughing after seeing the range of emotions that were being shown on your face, it was as if he was watching a movie. He couldn’t hold it in anymore because you were just too cute for your own good.
You firmly slapped his chest and turned to the other side of the bed, but was stopped from the firm grasp that held you close to him. You averted your gaze and burrowed your head into the crook of his neck so he couldn’t see your cheeks blazing red from the embarrassment of the whole situation.
However, there was still one thing that you couldn’t figure out. Why did he have that lipstick stain and smell of perfume those two times?
You looked up at him again, but this time with a questioning gaze.
“What about that time you got lipstick on your ear? Or that one time you smelled like some other person’s perfume?” He looked at you questionably before realization flooded his mind of the situations you were referring to. Before he could tell you, he burst out into another fit of laughter because he couldn’t believe that you even noticed that. Of course, his girlfriend was the best.
He calmed himself down and caught his breath before looking at you with amused eyes, your own, showing nothing.
“The lipstick, ah the lipstick.” He gave a slight shake of his head from amusement before continuing. “I was visiting Mom because she said she had leftovers that she wanted to give us and she kissed me on the cheek. The lipstick smudged all over my cheek and I thought I wiped it all, but I guess you noticed.”  You whacked him on the chest for obviously being an irritable jerk who was probably cackling at you on the inside. He gave you a sly wink and a small peck to your cheek, in return, before continuing. 
“And the perfume, its my aunt’s. She’s known in my family for giving her infamous death hugs.” You burst out into laughter because how stupid could you get? You mistook small things in life and thought that they were signs of cheating on you. Yeah, you really needed to work on that. No way that you are a star example of a girlfriend from the way you’ve been acting.
“So what did you think happened?” He looked at you with genuinely curious eyes because even you couldn’t believe how far your inferences were from the truth.
“I thought you cheated on me.” Your expression held bitterness as you stared into nothingness. Your boyfriend merely chuckled at you before tightening his embrace on you yet again.
“Oh honey,” he brushed his lips gently on your forehead before leaning it against your own, “I would never do that you. You know that right?” 
You sighed in content. This is what you wanted. This is what you wanted the rest of your life to be like. To feel like. You wished to stay in his embrace forever. In the place where you were protected, where you felt loved, where you felt safe. In the place where you could forever call home.
“Yeah, I know.”
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khymer-vulture · 7 years
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Ayy, finally done proofreading. I hope you guys like it.
Another side-story for the Our Bond series. (set in the middle of Last Chapters, so Caleb isn’t born yet.)
*Ray’s dreams become haunted by an old and familiar tormentor.
Life for Isaac and Rachel have been going beautifully during their times together. From being runaway fugitives to living in a home to call their own - and as man and wife, no less. Every day seemed like a new step to take, and a new discovery to be made for their soul mate. This was indeed the foundation of a perfect family she long desired, she had someone who viewed her life as precious and not a burden. For Zack, Rachel was his rock, she was what made him truly feel human again, and draw out the innocent pieces of him that remained hidden deep within his scarred soul. Each shattered piece of their past seemed to become an elaborate puzzle that the two of them dedicated their years piecing together into something that made them whole.
 They were whole.
 As time went by, and the two continued their plans on building their own family, Rachel seemed to feel a sense of dread, mostly in her sleep. She hasn’t had nightmares in the longest time thanks to the warm and secure embrace of her husband, but now it seemed the nightmares were back with a vengeance.
 Rachel fidgeted and squirmed from mental discomfort as her mind began to plague her with bits of her past, her parents belittling her as well as one another, pinning blame for their problems on everything but themselves, to even the physical trauma.
 No, not again. This was the past, and it should stay in the past. Rachel was a woman now, she had her own free will, she was building more self-confidence by the day, and she felt loved by…
 “A serial killer…how sad and pathetic…” a voice called out.
 In front of Ray was a blurred manifestation of her father, it had been so long that she had even forgotten what his own face looked like. Yet, his spiteful voice was something she couldn’t forget at all.
 “You really are some sort of psycho…” he spoke again, “the only people that you can associate with are other lunatics…especially a vicious murderer like him. You both seem to be made for each other, isn’t that right, you little hell spawn?”
 Rachel was feeling her childhood anxiety take hold, she wanted to prove this manifestation wrong, there was lots more to Zack than just his infamy. She could even feel herself shrink back into the broken little girl as her dreams took root.
 “You even gave your disgusting body to him, like the freaking Whore of Babylon…” the taunts continued, “just how vile can you get?”
 “Stop…” Rachel pleaded, her arms huddled around herself as a false security blanket. “I’m not disgusting, I’m not vile, I’m…”
 “Oh, enough bullshitting…a bloodthirsty killer like him is obviously enjoying the free ride you’re giving him…” the blurred vision of her father interrupted, “…you’ve even bred a little demon with him…pretty sure that little imp is going to be just as seriously fucked up as the two of you…hell, your ‘lover boy’ might hightail it out before your misery-bringing-self drags him down too...”
 Ray shook her head, she refused to believe every demeaning word that escaped her tormentor’s lips. The thought of the child growing inside her eventually becoming just as mad as their parents, or even the thought of Zack leaving her side was causing her anxiety to spike. Her heart raced as she felt her insides twist into a thousand knots, and her own head began attacking her with insecurities.
 “Ray…Ray!...Wake up!” a voice called out.
 Rachel’s eyes shot open as she gasped for air, she quickly sat up and gripped at the sides of her head, the woman was clearly still shaken up by her dream. Soon, came the feeling of large arms surrounding her into a comforting embrace, a familiar sensation of both love and safety. Zack gently nuzzled the top of Ray’s head to help calm her nerves, it had been a long while since she had nightmares for him to chase away.
 “Calm down, alright? Deep breaths…” Zack softly whispers.
 “Please keep talking…” the woman pleaded. “please…I…I just need to hear something…”
 Zack raised a brow, clearly something unhinged her very badly, but he complied. If nightmares were what frightened her, then maybe bringing up some good memories would help clear away the darkness. The man leaned closely to her ear and began to whisper the tender moments they shared throughout the years - their reunion, their first night together, watching Rachel blossom into a beautiful and steadfast woman, to even their first kiss.
 “Shit Ray…no matter how many times we locked lips, I still think our first one was always the best to remember…”
 Rachel was no longer a nervous wreck, she couldn’t help but smile to the memories, even hear her husband’s point of view with his colorful commentary. Soon, she was leaning against Zack and wrapped her arms around him, giving him a simple peck on the cheek to let him know that she was alright.
 “Thank you, Zack…that was all I needed…”
 “So, what happened? Shit, I haven’t seen you this freaked out in years…” Zack asked.
 Rachel faintly sighed as her hands began to slide down and bundle at the sheets piled at her knees, her eyes had a familiar look to them, that hollow and dead look. Zack grit his teeth that something as bad as a nightmare would make such an expression return.
 “Look…Ray…I don’t want to stress you out…” Zack said, “Whatever it was…I can tell it must’ve been some serious shit. It’s none of that execution nonsense like before, right?”
 Ray slowly shook her head, “No…it was much worse…I saw my parents again…especially my dad – at least, what I can remember much of him.”
 That answer surprised Zack a bit, a terrible old haunt, that explained the dulled look returning to her eyes.
 “I could hear his voice so clearly, like he was mocking me from beyond the grave. Disgusting, vile, and pathetic to only feel loved by a serial killer…” Rachel murmured, then began to let slip a sniffle.
 The woman was about to break down, Zack brought his arms to hold her close yet again.
 “Hey…enough…” Zack shushed, “Didn’t uh...didn’t one of your books say to not get stressed? It’s not good for you and the little pipsqueak…”
 Zack then lightly poked at Rachel’s belly, it was a little protruded from the growing child within.
 Rachel wiped a tear away, then faintly smiled to herself – serial killer or no, Zack was genuinely concerned for her health and the health of their unborn.
 “Yeah…it did say that…you’ve gotten better at reading, Zack,” she answered with a faint sniffle.
 Zack had a proud and humble grin on his face, but in all seriousness, the words Rachel’s supposed “father” said even irked him.
 “Yer’ dad was a cop, right?”
 Rachel lightly nodded.
 “Who in the fuck gave him the right to say that shit? That miserable bag of dicks is a man of the law and couldn’t even fucking practice what he preached. The real sad thing is that a serial killer does know how to love someone better than a god damn pig like him can…” Zack boldly stated, “If he shows up in your dream again, tell him straight up I said that.”
 “You won’t leave me, right?” Ray asked.
 “Did he say that shit too?” Zack growled. Then let out a huff of frustration, “The only way I’m leaving is with my last fucking breath, Ray. Until then, you’re stuck with me.”
 Zack then grabbed her by the hips in a slight pouncing manner, he made sure to be gentle with her, and heard her let out a surprised laugh as he playfully kissed and nibbled at her neck. It’s been a while since he did engage in a type of playful behavior, but hearing her laugh was damn worth it. His attempt at soothing her worries was indeed working like a charm.
 “No way in hell I’m gonna leave…” Zack said, “Hey…look, your shitty parents are gone. I don’t know what’s bringing those memories back. Just remember where you are now, you’re a grown woman – fucking beautiful, even. You’re living in a house, all neatly kept n’ shit. Hell, you got that garden you worked so damn hard on. Fuck, Ray…you’re living the dream. Not to mention, you got the fearsome Isaac Foster, and I’ll happily slaughter hundreds who dare to say otherwise…”
 Isaac had that predatory gleam in his golden eye, he truly did mean it - if he could jump into her dreams, he’d keep his word.
 The hollowed look from before was now gone, much to Zack’s relief, he leaned down to give her a small and tender kiss on the lips before letting her get back into a comfortable position to sleep.
 “Thank you, Zack…”
 “Get some good dreams this time,” Zack replied.
 Soon Zack wrapped his arms around his wife, their usual big spoon, little spoon position. The two eventually drifted off into the spell of sleep.
 The dreams returned, Rachel felt uneasy, but she mentally repeated the words Zack said. Before her, was the hazy image of her father again, Ray felt a small bit of determination to confront her inner demons.
 “Happy with your crazy family? Quit trying to sugar coat the truth to make yourself feel better…”
 Rachel clenched a fist, she refused to be swayed.
 Soon, came the blurred image of her mother, “A worthless thing like you should stop playing ‘make believe’. There is no happily ever after. It’ll only be a matter of time until he turns on you too…until you end up like us…”
 “A filthy girl like you can’t do anything right…” the voices chanted.
 Rachel felt the unease build stronger until she had enough, “I will hear no more! I am happy where I am, I don’t regret being with Zack. I know what kind of person he is, so what? He’s still a human being, he expresses emotions, he feels pain, and can admit his own faults! The both of you never shown a single sliver of that, all you ever did was fight, scream, and place blame instead of owning up to your own mistakes!”
 “Why you little…” the mother angrily growled, then began to raise a hand to strike at her.
 Rachel was there to catch it, she had an expression on her face that clearly said – I am not afraid.
 “If my current life counts as sugar coating, I don’t even want to know what you’d call that life back then. I’m a grown woman, I choose the paths I take in my life. I don’t need to hear the words of a couple dead-beat corpses to break me again.”
 Then her eyes directed over to the manifestation of her father, “It’s sadder that a cop like you was a poor excuse for a husband. Zack cares for me in every way, he cares for my health, my sanity, and my happiness. Despite your ‘moral differences’, a killer like him knows how to love someone compared to a drunk and downtrodden man of the law. Compared to you and mother, we’re truly a normal couple. There will be no more biased opinions coming from the two of you…you’re all just a bad dream, and nothing more.”
 Dream or no, she felt damn satisfied to finally stand up to her parents, even just a mere representation.
 The dark manifestations of her parents fizzled away like ashes, and she began to feel a huge sense of relief. Possibly stress and doubt had been building up unknowingly to allow her mind to concoct such a nasty illusion, if that were the case, she was glad that Zack enabled her to stand up to her old demons.
 Morning had risen, and Rachel slowly opened her eyes. She wasn’t surrounded by darkness, but in the comforts of a large bed shared by her spouse, she could feel their combined warmth wrap her up so safely and securely. Her happy life and not a troubling nightmare.
 Soon, she could hear the familiar and tired grumbles coming from Zack, he must be waking up as well. Normally, she’d just let him sleep in, but given the situation last night, he must still be worried.
 “Mmh? You’re up? Mornin’ Ray…” Zack mumbled as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
 “Morning Zack,” Ray replied with a smile.
 “Sleep better this time?” Zack asked, he leaned close to give her neck a couple kisses.
 “I did…I feel a lot better, I told my nightmares off,” Rachel said as she turned to face him, “I also told my dad what you said…”
 “Oh yeah?”
 Rachel lightly nodded, “It felt really damn good…”
 Zack couldn’t help but chuckle, then gave her a peck on the forehead, “Atta girl…take no bullshit!”
 The man then sat up on the bed, helping Ray up as well, “Come on, let’s go take a quick shower…”
 That sounded really nice right about now, a time to wash away all the worries before starting the new day, and with someone she was sharing her life with – even to the point of starting a new one with him.
 Whatever wanted to fill her with fear and doubt would have to fight harder, she wasn’t going to allow herself to break again, she wasn’t going to allow anything to tear her life with Zack apart by any means necessary and wouldn’t hesitate to confront any foe that would dare try. If that line of defense was broken, then they sure as hell had Isaac to deal with.
 If this kind of life wasn’t considered a happily ever after, then she’d refuse to believe what anything else was.
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A Loss
           Robert Jones had slept in past sunrise, a surprising deviation from the norm. His routine would begin as the sun broke, his dog Sadie waking him with fervent panting and pawing, so he could go for a walk with her. As he rose, he paused and whispered to himself, “No!” He rushed from the foot of his bed, his joints creaking, into the living room. As Robert feared, Sadie was lying supine, perfectly still. He clutched his mouth in awe as he took note that her chest had been neither rising nor falling.  “Sadie,” he cried in between his staccato breaths. With Sadie gone, he didn’t have any obligations, or regular company. Sadie had been Robert’s only consistent companion for the past five years; as her eyes begged pathetically for a treat or a venture outside, it gave Robert a reason to stick it out long enough to make sure she was tended to. Now, Robert thought, I don’t have to feed the dog anymore.    With a stoic determination, Robert fetched the spare white sheets from the linen closet to wrap his friend in. On his back porch was a shovel he used to dig out a space just deep enough for old Sadie, heaping the soil and grass over her, a single, silent tear falling onto his creased and wrinkled face.  Robert walked back in the house and, under a hot stream of water in his kitchen sink, washed the earth from his hands.  His breakfast was buttered toast and black coffee, his appetite all but gone. Life would be going on, he thought, regardless of whatever tragedy or inconvenience fell at his feet, so he should resume his day all the same.    Robert drove into town, hoping to shake the melancholy the house now seemed to radiate. He aimlessly perused the shelves of Berg’s Grocery, which he appreciated for being sparsely frequented. Everyone at Berg’s seemed to have no desire to engage with Robert beyond the standard minimum, which was fine by him. There was nothing he needed in the store, he decided, and took his leave.    Driving around, he was compelled to go to his local dollar theater to catch a movie. It was a murder mystery, from which he took a passive enjoyment.  As he left the auditorium, he noted a flock of young children whispering amongst themselves, pointing at him, throughout the lobby.  Their conversations overlapped. Robert growled contemptuously as he walked out of the theater.  Robert was faintly aware of the folkloric reputation built up by the children of Blighton.  He was known as The Creep from Mill’s Mount, on account of his reclusion and surly demeanor. Robert retired from his job, and, effectively, from society. He took umbrage at the prospect that he was required to play the same games as everyone, feigning politeness and geniality for the sake of others. Robert also seethed at the prospect of ending up like any of the simpletons that relied on one another; dependency, he told anyone that would listen, was just a refusal to take your fate into your own hands.   He bristled on the return drive home.  The dull ache of his loss sharpened as he reached the house. Robert noticed a sedan parked idly in the driveway; clocking the license plate and cream-colored paint job, it registered as belonging to his ex-wife, Bonnie. Robert steeled himself away, anticipating a confrontation for any perceived slight.  Walking inside, bewitched by the savory scents of her cooking wafting through the house.    “Bonnie!”    “Yeah, it’s me!”    “Woman! I know it’s you!”    “What you hollerin’ my name for, then?”    He walked in and saw her, dressed in periwinkle blue, stood over her food, focused on the perfect balance of seasoning. “What you doing in my kitchen?”    “Cooking your supper, what else?”    “You over here . . . got the potatoes, chicken . . . got the spinach . . . you know, Thanksgiving’s on a Thursday but it ain’t every Thursday.”   “You not funny!”   “Woman!”   “Man!” They shared a deep laugh and brief embrace. She looked into the dark brown eyes of the man she once loved so dear—still loved, if she was honest—and caressed his ebony skin with a tender stroke. “I heard about Sadie,” she said, contrite. His expression worked its way swiftly from ecstatic to grim to curious.   “How’d you hear?”   “Your neighbors got my number, case something goes wrong on the days I’m not here to feed you. Told ‘em they were to call me at the first sign of trouble. They see you burying her and they tell me what’s what.  I told em it’s fine, I’ll handle it, wasn’t nothing sinister. It’s just Sadie.”   “Yeah,” he said, twisting his mouth into something cruel. “It’s just Sadie.”   “Robert, that’s not what I meant. I know you loved her. Loved her as much as you could.”     “I did.”   “Wash up, I’ll finish supper, we’ll talk over the meal.” Robert took a shower and began to resent how vulnerable Sadie might have made him. How she might have struck his armor, leaving a chink to bare him, body and soul, to the world he shunned. How he’d become soft in the middle since taking care of her. He felt weak and foolish.   Robert emerged from the bathroom, steam billowing behind him. He ambled slowly towards the kitchen to see Bonnie humbly setting the table. He reminded himself that Bonnie was one of  the good ones, that her smile didn’t contain poison, no blade ready for his back when he turned away.  “Sit down, old man.”   “Woman, hush.” Bonnie was one of a handful of people that was fluent in the dialect of Robert’s mercurial need for facetiousness or seriousness. Their kids, Johanna and Jamal, were not so lucky and grew up believing their father hated them. She was able to coax Robert out of his lows, though he felt guilty for burdening her. They shared a silent meal, Robert’s bites slow and methodical. Bonnie abruptly began, “You know, Johanna was asking about you the other day. Said ‘how’s pops?’ I told you were fair to midland. You know. A lie.”   “I’m doing just fine, Bonnie. You can tell her pops is just fine.”   “You could tell her yourself.”   “She wants to talk, she has my number. Same with Jerome. Thickheaded boy.”   “They have jobs, they’re going to school. They’re preoccupied.  You used to remember what being busy was like.”   “I keep plenty busy, Bonnie.”   “Your neighbor Robin says—”   “Ain’t none of the neighbors damn business how I’m spending my days, god damn it!”   “I just hate the thought of you here, by yourself, not taking care—” she paused to swallow the lump in her throat and choke back her tears. “Talk to me, Robert.”   She had a way about her, it had diminished significantly in the intervening years, that would break down the walls Robert so steadfastly built. Her powers, she realized, were not entirely gone as he let out a resigned  sigh. “The world . . . that’s starting to terrify me.”   “You been letting the world gentle you for a while, now, Robert.”   “But it’s changing now . . .”   “Always was.”   “Not like now,” he declared in a tone that suggested he didn’t want to debate or be contradicted on the matter. The temerity that Robert both admired and detested in Bonnie began to rear its head with a vengeance. She shook her head and bit her lower lip, informing him that she was far from finished discussing his retreat from society.   “You been in the house too damn long. And now Sadie’s gone. And I, you know, I’m not always gonna be there. You seen more of these four walls than you seen of anybody. You  not talking to nobody . . .”   “I’m talking now.”   “You’re in a city that’s breathing . . . bursting with art, commerce, people. And you’re choosing your time to dwell on regrets? To cut wires? To be alone? That’s not healthy, baby.”   “It’s my life, I’ll live it as I choose. Thank you very much.”   “I want to know that that dog wasn’t the last straw,” she demanded, through a quaver. “I want to know you’ll keep trying.” Robert stared vindictively at the only glimmer of love in his life, disdainfully watching her cry.   “Bonnie, I’ll thank you to leave my house.”  He crossed his arms, nodding as to certify it was for real this time. Bonnie slowly stood up, her shoulders slumped from a melancholy he seemed to feel obligated to impose on her. “I don’t want these visits anymore. I can cook for my damn self.”   “Don’t say that. Don’t do that.”   “I was fine before you come ‘round. And I’ll tell you what, I’ll be fine once you leave. But you got to leave.” Bonnie indignantly grabbed her effects and items and walked out on the ungrateful bastard she once called a lover. The time she spent on him, she knew, was fruitless. She wasted her younger years loving him, trying to rehabilitate him, only to find him stubborn and unchanging. Bonnie always expected to be welcomed back with no tension, no words of contrition. And she knew he would expect the same within a week. However, the way he dismissed her this time was different. There was a finality in her voice that, previously, had been absent.  She drove off with tears in her eyes, never knowing if she’d see him again.    Robert wrapped up all the food Bonnie cooked him and turned the lights off. He shut out the streetlights as he closed his blinds. No one was around to ask him stay up a little longer, or to wake up a little earlier. He was free, he thought. He was his own man. For once.    He dreamed about trees towering over him as he wandered through a forest, lost. The guide that brought him was nowhere to be found, despite having turned his back for only a moment. He was lost and past the point of no return.    A crashing boom traveled from the front entrance to Robert’s room, waking him with a start. The sound of shattering glass popped his eardrums. Robbers.  He clutched his blanket, gripped with fear and desperation. He prayed to a God he didn’t believe in that they would get startled to find his door wouldn’t come open when they turned the knob. “I didn’t do anything,” he said, reasoning that no harm should come to an innocent man, and begging the hoods invading his house would see it similar. Their murmurs became louder, more pronounced. They jiggled at the knob, and Robert’s chest began to seize. The intruders kicked and battered the door until the wood burst into splinters. They walked with ease to his bed, carrying none of the valued possessions he kept in the living room. Intruders, Robert thought to himself. Their actions were not owed to avarice or desperation; they were lashing out from boredom, hoping to find something to sufficiently fill whatever void plagued.    “I didn’t do anything,” Robert shuddered. They looked to one another and silently agreed to take the plunge, lifting their legs in the air, combat boots and brass knuckles bludgeoning the still body, bones and gray matter exposed over his withering body.  As the body took its last sip of air, the intruders looked to one another. Their expressions remained static and realized that they could derive no satisfaction from taking its life, not even a fleeting moment of joy. On to the next, they agreed, and began knocking over the kerosene lamps Robert kept around the house. They set the house to blaze, ignoring, as they were sure everyone else would, the resulting smoke and embers.
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