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lottiebagley · 3 years

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Snow covered courtyards- Oliver Wood

When he'd asked her to the ball he'd been certain she would say no. They'd been friends for a while but never particularly close, simply in the same year and house and therefore knew each other through mutual friends.

He'd always thought she was kind of unattainable, she seemed to always look perfect, she was smart and funny and kind and top of her classes. He never knew why but she always avoided Oliver a little, he spent nights laid in bed listening to Percy's snoring and racking his brains for any reason she might avoid him, an insult from years ago, a history between him and one of her friends but nothing quite came to mind.

It wasn't until a few weeks before the ball that he realised that maybe the reason she avoided him was because she wasn't quite as unattainable as he'd thought. He'd laughed at first when his best friend shrugged that she probably just had a crush on him, mouthful of cereal and a slightly bemused look on his face.

After that conversation he slowly allowed his brain to convince himself she just might like him back. After all why else would she blush when he catches her eye? why would she go to every quidditch game no matter how awful the weather? why would she giggle a little with her friends when he passes?

And so, Oliver Wood let a little spark of hope light in his heart and he began to plan how he would ask her to the ball.

He thought about asking her after they won a quidditch match when he was high on adrenaline but he didn't like the idea of being muddy and sweaty and with the fucking Weasley twins, their relentless teasing playing in his mind before it even happened.

Next he thought about making some production out of it in the great hall like he'd seen a few other people do, but he knew she'd hate being the centre of the entire school's attention.

He contemplated asking her at a party, figuring some liquid courage might make the prospect of asking his dream girl on a date a little easier, but didn't want her to think it was some drunk decision.

He settled on approaching her with a bouquet of flowers and just asking it, after all, he knew he was a good looking guy and most people found him charming if not a little intense. What he didn't think about though was that most people didn't make his heart beat too fast, his hands go clammy, and his words come out a stuttering mess.

Oliver announced to his friends one morning that today was the day he'd ask her out, they'd grinned widely, given him a pep talk, mocked him a little for his nerves and sent him on his way and Oliver had every intention to ask her out.

It was then that Oliver learnt the age old lesson.

Girls travel in packs.

No matter how hard he tried she was surrounded. Between classes, at meals, in the common room, christ even on her way to the bathroom. Whenever he saw her she'd have a gaggle of girls with her all of which would eye him with curiosity and smirks when he attempted to approach.

It took Oliver a further three days of attempting to catch her alone, his friends seeming to find the entire situation funnier by the hour, before it had happened. He'd caught a glimpse of her with Cedric.

Oliver Wood hated Cedric Diggory, hated that he was so often compared to him, hated that he had swoopy hair that made girls swoon, hated that he too was a good quidditch player. His newest reason though to despise the boy who showed him nothing but kindness was that he didn't clam up around her. He talked to her with ease and made her laugh.

If he'd done a little digging, Oliver would have easily found Cedric was a family friend and she viewed him like a brother. Through exasperated mutual friends sick of both their pining he'd have probably also learnt she had a massive crush on Oliver and had turned down multiple boys in the hopes Oliver would ask her to the ball.

He didn't dig though. Instead he scowled in the direction of Cedric and her, they were laughing by the quidditch pitch as the Hufflepuff practice ended and the Gryffindor's arrived for their own. She had been on her way to the greenhouses to grab a book she'd accidentally left there when Cedric had jogged over, unknown to Oliver actually asking if the Gryffindor had plucked up the nerve to ask her out. She had brushed her friend off, thinking it would be a miracle for Oliver Wood to fancy her back.

"Hurry up Wood, she's a good one, she'll get swept up all too soon," Fred smirks as he passes Oliver on his way into the changing rooms.

And with Fred's words in his mind Oliver grabs the bouquet of flowers from the office and marches towards her, Cedric spotting him coming and quickly taking his leave.

"Hi," He calls, cursing himself for not thinking to say her name when she doesn't even turn around, not used to him approaching her, "Hi-Y/N,"

She turns then, still clad in her uniform, hair blowing in the light wind and a small smile on her face.

"Oliver-uh-hey," She blushes a little as she falls over her words

"You're a really hard girl to get on her own," He comments. Fucking christ why does he sound like a stalker? The question spins in his mind but she seems to not think anything of the comment, instead blushing a little

"Oh- my friends and I are kinda inseperable," She shrugs lightly, not wanting an awkward silence so instead opting to ramble "They only aren't here now cause they are busy. Meg's at detention, Ali's with her boyfriend and Katie's tutoring some second year in potions. I'd have waited for one of them to be with me because honestly I kind of hate walking alone- not cause I'm weird or un-independent or any thing, I just, well I get a little anxious and feel like people are staring at me and-" She silences herself, suddenly coming to her senses and realising how crazy she's making herself sound. "Sorry,"

"Don't be. I think it's cute when you ramble," He admits, blushing as red as his quidditch robes when he realises what he's said.

"Did you need something or have I just embarrassed myself over a polite hello?" She questions, he chuckles a little making her feel mildly less uncomfortable.

"I was actually wondering if you wanted to go to the ball?" He questions. He feels a weight off his shoulder's once the question has been asked. Like suddenly even if she says no at least he could tell himself he tried.

"With you?" She questions, she realises she probably sounds more idiotic by the second but can't quite convince herself to believe her long term crush would actually ask her out.

"Uh-yeah," He's taken aback by the question and feels stupid for even thinking she'd consider it and suddenly the even if she says no bullshit is just that, because shit if the girl in front of him with wide eyes and a nervous smile doesn't say yes he thinks his heart might break in his chest.

"Like a date?"

"I was hoping,"

"I'd love that,"

Oliver feels like the luckiest person on earth. Watching as she blushes a little, but her smile is wide and god if he doesn't want to kiss her right there.

"Great,"

"Good,"

"Cool,"

"Yeah,"

Neither of them is quite sure what comes next and the interaction seems to run even more awkward. "You'll pick her up!" Oliver rolls his eyes at the sound of George Weasley, although thankful for the prompt, she blushes, peering behind him to see the entire Gryffindor quidditch team watching them.

"I'll pick you up," He confirms

"Right," She nods

"At 7? Outside your dorm?"

"Sounds good,"

"Okay," He grins brightly, still thinking this entire thing is his mind playing some cruel tricks on him.

"So you should go, your team awaits," She reminds, he nods, partly wanting the interaction over before he can make even more of a fool out of himself or ruin something before it even has a chance to start and partly wanting to live in this moment of pure joy for the rest of his life.

"Right, so I'll uh- see you at the ball- and- uhm- around before obviously," He stutters a little

"Great, I'll see you in both those places," She confirms, realising only after she's spoken how idiotic she sounds.

"The flowers Wood! Christ you're bad at this!" Fred shouts

"Always thought he had game," Harry comments

"We all did kid," George agrees.

"Sorry about them," Oliver apologises

"It's okay," She smiles gently, waiting patiently as he stands staring wondering why her eyes are flickering from him, to his team to his hands and-

"Oh right, these are for you," He confirms, passing the bouquet over and grinning when she blushes a little

"Thanks Oli,"

"Any time," He nods

When she pulls open her dorm door Oliver is certain time stops.

She looks like an angel, her makeup perfect, hair flowing in curls with a small section pinned back as to see her face clearly, Oliver is certain nothing else has ever looked as beautiful. She's dressed in a golden gown that shimmers in the light and makes her look like a princess.

"You- I mean- it- you look beautiful," He stammers over his words and his face goes redder by the second but she smiles at him

"Thank you Oli," She smiles up at him and when their eyes meet both of them feel their hearts hammering in their chests.

"You ready?" He questions, she nods, smiling when he grabs her arm in his and they walk together to the hall.

The hall looks like something out of a fairytale. Seeming to glow an ice white, lined with glittering trees and a glance at the ceiling showing a sky full of stars that gleamed in the air.

"You want to dance?" Oliver questions, eyes falling to the already slightly crowded dance floor, the students dancing to the waltz that plays.

"Think you might loose a foot if we try," She admits, glancing at the girls who swirl around the floor effortlessly and feeling a little self conscious she can't do the same.

"It'd be worth it," He grins, pulling her along with him.

"Hey Oli?"

"Yeah?" He questions as they come to the edge of the dance floor

"These heels are really high. Please don't let me fall,"

"I've got you," He assures, smiling when he notices her physically loosen the panic in her eyes dissipating.

It takes them a few stumbles and a couple of toe treads but eventually they pick up the dance. He watches with a grin as she stares at her feet in focus and with time, and a few glasses of the punch Fred and George spiked, she relaxes, feeling at ease in his arms and becoming more comfortable with the slightly confusing dancing.

Oliver whispers commentary about the ball that makes her laugh and he loves the way she talks with such excitement that he can't help but follow along with every word. He's pretty sure in that moment he could die happy and she's almost certain this is the best night of her life.

As the minutes tick into hours they become more and more comfortable with each other, sure there's still an awkward teenagers with crushes layer to the conversation, but they learn they have a lot in common and find it easy to make small talk that they both actually enjoy.

"Do you wanna go get some air?" She questions at around 11, the dancing has changed from formal waltzing to jumping around to the band who'd been hired for the event and they were both hot and a little sticky from the crowd.

He nods in confirmation and smiles to himself when she immediately takes his hand in hers to pull him along behind her, she seems to have no idea he'd follow her to the ends of the earth if she asked.

She takes him to a small moonlit, snow covered, empty courtyard.

"Anyone would think you wanted to get me alone," He teases lightly, she blushes a little but playfully shoves him

"Maybe I did," She shrugs, he grins cockily "Or maybe it was a little crowded in there and I'm a polite date who didn't want to just abandon you," She isn't quite sure where her newfound confidence around Oliver is coming from

"I'm going to go with the first option," He grins, she laughs a little before shivering at the cold December breeze that wraps around them. He's quick to shrug of his black formal jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders and blushing when she leans up to press a kiss to his cheek in thanks.

"You wanna dance?" She questions, he laughs a little at the idea of leaving a ball to go and dance but nods.

Her arms wrap around his neck as his circle her waist, he hums gently and she smiles a she glances up at him. Oliver Wood looks like a god in the moonlight and she thanks her lucky stars that it's her who got to be in that moment with him.

They dance slowly, eventually pulling each other closer. She laughs when he twirls her under his arm and he grins when her hands begin to brush through the ends of his hair.

"Tell me something," She speaks quietly, his arms pulling her even closer.

"What do you wanna know?"

"Anything about you," She decides, he takes a deep breath, figuring now's probably the best moment he'll ever get to tell her this.

"I've had a crush on you since first year,"

"You have?" She sounds shocked and he can't help but laugh at the idea of her not realising he's practically head over heels for her

"I have," He confirms with a grin

"Why'd you never say anything?" She questions. Her heart feels like it's beating a million miles a minute and she's almost certain he can feel it

"You kinda avoided me," he shrugs

"Yeah I did," She laughs

"Why'd you do that?"

"I was scared to make a fool out of myself," She admits

"Yeah I get that," He nods

"You do? You always seem so- I don't know- at ease,"

"Around everyone but you I kinda am," He shrugs, she blushes a little at that. "You wanna know something else?" He questions.

They're still swaying a little but there's not much movement at their feet, instead the entire thing looks like a loving embrace and she figured to an extent it kind of was.

"Sure,"

"All night I've thinking about if I were to try and kiss you. If you'd kiss back or you'd pull away and laugh in my face and I'd have made a fool of myself," His words leave her breathless and his charming grin only makes it better

"There's only one way to know for sure," She whispers.

His lips crash to hers in the moonlit courtyard, the snow falling around them. It's slow and gentle. Holding years of emotion and there's no need to rush, in that moment they both know they have forever to hold each other this close. It's a little toothy from both their wide grins but as his hands cup her cheeks she's sure nothing has ever been as perfect as this moment and the boy she's sharing it with.

MASTERLIST

#harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter #harry potter masterlist #oliver wood #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood x y/n #oliver wood imagine

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flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash · 3 years

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Irresistible Danger - Part 61

Synopsis: After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 2,591

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

Taking Care of Business

You were in shock and at a loss for words, while Amber’s impatient expression as she stared you down meant that she obviously expected you to say something. When it became apparent that you weren’t going to kickstart this lovely conversation, she gave an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes before breaking the silence with a haughty voice that instantly grated on your nerves.

“Well, are you going to let me in, or what?”

Your subconscious gave a resounding scream of ‘fuck off!’ and hissed at Amber, while your brain warned to proceed with caution. The last thing you wanted right now was a fight, but it wasn’t clear which path led to a worse confrontation: letting her in or telling her to leave. Deciding to attempt civility, you clamped down the words ‘I’d really rather not’ that were on the tip of your tongue, and instead gave a small nod and stood back from the doorway to let her in. The sickly sweet smell of flowers hit when she passed by, and you had the incredibly random thought of where the fuck does she get perfume in an apocalypse?

Ignoring the unimportant question, you watched as she glanced around your room, eyes flickering over the small bed, the wooden chair piled with clothes, and then the stack of old rickety crates holding your belongings. Her face scrunched up in utter disdain of the meager surroundings, solidifying what Ben had once said about her coming from a privileged background before the apocalypse. Her room upstairs probably had all kinds of fancy furniture and clothes. You wanted to feel annoyed, even a bit ashamed, but then remembered whose bed you were now spending the night in and immediately lost all sense of self-consciousness. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter what material possessions she might own, because you had Negan and she didn’t. No matter how this conversation went, that fact wasn’t going to change, and nothing she said was going to ruin your newfound happiness. You were still nervous and feeling a bit cagey being in the same room as the woman who was far from your biggest fan, but the security of knowing where you and Negan stood with one another helped you to keep calm and project an air of indifference.

However, you still didn’t want to play this too arrogantly, and decided not to close the door the entire way, pushing it so that there was still a centimeter of space keeping it unlatched. The crack was small enough for her to not have noticed, and gave you that extra padding of reassurance. You didn’t trust her one bit, and wanted an easier exit, if necessary, or a way to hopefully be heard if you yelled for help. Not that you were too worried about a physical confrontation; you looked up and down her petite, small frame and thought, you can take her if you have to. The subconscious gave an aggressive yell of agreement and stared Amber down with laser-like focus.

Not wanting to make any assumptions, you decided to stand there silently and wait her out. It didn’t take long, as she abruptly turned to you with a sneer and said, “I bet you’re feeling mighty proud of yourself right about now.”

Well then, guess we’re going with no pretense or attempt at subtlety. Raising your brows in surprise, you honestly replied, “I’m not sure I know what you mean.” You were certain this had to do with Negan, but weren’t sure if it was in regards to the last few weeks, if she had heard about the scene in the cafeteria, or, perhaps, it was something else entirely.

She narrowed her eyes at you and practically hissed, “Don’t play stupid with me. I know that you’re the one who convinced him to throw us all out.”

You couldn’t hide the look of utter surprise at her words. Had Negan said something to the wives today? But when?! You had seen him off on the run to the outpost this morning, and there had only been perhaps a 20 minute space of time from when his men had sat down for dinner and he himself had entered the cafeteria. Had he spent that small chunk of time talking to his wives?

Apparently so, as Amber confirmed a few seconds later.

“I can’t believe he would just march in there and tell us, tell me, that we’re not needed anymore.” She scoffed, as if the idea was laughable. “And I bet it was your idea that we lose our rooms too, right? You couldn’t even let us stay where we were, let us be on the same floor as him. No, you somehow convinced him to kick us out, and tell us we’re to ‘reintegrate into the community’. What the fuck!”

She had used her fingers in air quotes around the reintegrate part, which would’ve been a bit humorous if not for her screeched curse at the end. Your emotions were all jumbled, since part of you wanted to fist pump with joy that Negan had decided to officially move out his wives and make them a part of the community, while another part of you knew that to let your happiness show would only cause Amber to escalate. And while you didn’t feel too bad for her, especially considering the way she’d treated other women like Maria and Trixie, you could still relate on a human level to the shitty feeling of being unwanted. It was that little crumb of empathy that you tried to lead with, despite the subconscious begging you to just bypass all that and use a fist instead.

“I honestly wasn't aware that he did that,” you said, hoping she could hear the sincerity in your voice. “I understand that it’s gotta be frustrating to-”

“Don’t try to feed me bullshit by saying you understand!” she interrupted, eyes blazing with anger. “You think that just because you waltzed in there with your little food trays and spread your legs for him whenever he wants that it makes you better than us. You could’ve played by the rules and become a wife like the rest of us, but nooo. You must think you’re really fucking special, to screw us all over and wreck the entire system! News flash bitch, you’ll never be enough to satisfy him, and he’ll get bored with you soon enough. Then we’ll see how much you ‘understand’ when the tables turn and he asks us to come back while you’re the one tossed to the side! Because that’s what will happen in time, and it’ll make him look weak and indecisive to the entire community. I hope you’re prepared for that, for his potential downfall to be all. Your. Fault!”

Well so much for going the empathetic route, you thought as a spark of anger burned in your gut. She stood there, breathing heavily from her outburst and wearing a cruel smirk as she waited to see what effect her words would have on you. Said effect was that both your subconscious and brain were now wielding swords, ready to go to battle and take her out.

Any desire to try and make peace flew out the window, as you saw through her act and straight to exactly what she was trying to accomplish by confronting you. How dare she take her own hurt and insecurities and try to throw them back on you. And what made you extra mad was how calculated they were to cause injury. She had spit the words with pure venom, designed to seep into your veins and poison all confidence that what you had with Negan was real.

If she had said this to you even two days ago, it might’ve actually worked, might’ve combined with that padlocked box of questions and been the tipping point to send you over the edge into fully believing every word. There had also been the ball of self-doubt, which until the other night had been constantly following you around and whispering that Negan would never give up a group of women who were always at his beck and call for someone as independent and outspoken as you. That he couldn’t possibly change his rules so completely for you. That he couldn’t possibly love you.

But this wasn’t two days ago, and you knew better now.

Spine stiffening, you stared Amber down and said in a cool yet stern voice, “It’s obvious that nothing I say will make you happy, unless it’s that I leave Negan alone and let you have him.” You saw her eyes spark in anticipation at the words, as if she expected you to do just that. “But that’s not going to happen.”

Her fists clenched at her sides, and she opened her mouth, probably to spout more vitriol. But you weren’t having it. In fact, she wasn’t even worth the effort of fighting, and refusing to spend another second entertaining her bullshit would be a more satisfying win than arguing back and forth.

“I think it’s time for you to leave.”

“Why you-”

“Leave, Amber. Before this escalates and ends in a public and unattractive way. Unless you want others to see you escorted out of the Sanctuary.”

You were possibly talking out your ass with that last bit, since you didn’t have the authority to ban anyone from the compound. However, she didn’t need to know that, and you could tell that the threat worked when her mouth clamped shut, eyes blazing with hatred as she marched towards you. For a moment, you had the fear that she was going to start a physical altercation. Instead, she angrily stomped past, a hair’s breadth away from knocking into you as the pungent smell of fake flowers trailed after her.

“This isn’t over, bitch.”

The words were said as she grabbed the knob and threw back the door dramatically. It flew open and slammed into the wall, swinging mere inches from your face. It would’ve been an impressive exit, except that she had barely set foot out into the hall when every muscle in her body went taut as a bowstring, and her face drained of all color as she looked at something up and to the left.

Taking a step forward to glance out the doorway, your eyes widened in shock at the sight of Negan standing right outside. You weren’t sure how long he had been there, but seeing as how the door had been unlatched and opened a crack the entire time, he had to have at least heard the end of your conversation.

Her mouth opened but no words came out, and you knew that she was frantically trying to come up with a way to twist the situation. If given enough time, she’d make herself look squeaky clean and try to manipulate things so that it would appear as if the confrontation was somehow your fault. Rather than give her time to come up with a bullshit excuse, Negan spoke first, his tone low and deadly serious.

“Don’t say a fucking word. Nothing’s changed from what I told you earlier, and I don’t want any more fucking feedback about it. You and I are fucking done, and if you can’t handle that, then you’ll be escorted the fuck out first thing tomorrow morning, just like she fucking said.”

You felt a spark of satisfaction at his agreement with your threat to make her leave, at the way he stood in solidarity with you. Amber deflated slightly at his words, but she still glanced back at you over her shoulder, eyes shooting daggers. Unable to help one moment of pure pettiness, you looked her square in the eye and got the last word.

“I’d say this is fucking over.”

She knew she’d been beaten, you could see it written all over her face. But Amber was prideful, and she’d not crumple in front of an audience. Instead, she held her head high and walked quickly past Negan without a second glance. The two of you watched her march down the hall and disappear into the stairwell, and you had a feeling that, despite her brave face, she was going to find somewhere private to hide and lick her emotional wounds.

Negan turned to you, the anger slipping from his expression as he scanned up and down your body, as if to make sure that there was no physical injury. Thankfully, all wounds had been emotionally inflicted and they were nothing more than shallow cuts, rather than the deep stabs Amber had been hoping for.

“How long have you been standing there?”

His lips curled up into a pleased smirk, as he replied, “Long enough to know that you had the situation fucking handled, and didn’t need my help.”

You huffed out a tiny laugh at that, pleased to know that while he had been listening, he hadn’t just charged in and taken over. He’d been willing to stay back and let you deal with the conflict on your own...had trusted your ability to take care of it.

You started to exit the room and close the door, but halted when he said, “Why don’t you pack a bag first.”

“What?” you blinked rapidly at him in confusion.

He shrugged casually, as if to try and offset the seriousness of his words. “Since you’re spending nights with me, it only makes fucking sense to move some of your stuff up to my room. Maybe then you won’t keep stealing my fuckin’ toothbrushes and clothes. Maybe if you ask nicely enough, I’ll even clear out a drawer or two.”

It took a few seconds to process that Negan had just done the apocalypse version of asking you to start moving in with him. Your subconscious and brain had linked arms and were twirling in a circle while tossing confetti into the air, but you tried to act as cool and casual as Negan had about it, nodding and turning back into your room. It wasn’t until you were sure he couldn’t see your face that you allowed a huge grin and silent scream of excitement.

Grabbing the brown sack, you threw in half your t-shirts (aka the ones that were currently clean) and the navy blue gym shorts. A slight blush tinted your cheeks as you tried to quickly and discreetly throw in a few pairs of underwear and socks, though you knew he was standing in the doorway and watching your every move. You also grabbed the toothbrush and toothpaste, but left the shower items. Negan had plenty of those to share, and you weren't willingly giving up the luxury of his fluffy towels and fancy soaps. You topped off the bag with some extra hair ties, a comb, and the copy of Harry Potter. It wasn’t everything, but it put enough of a dent in your belongings that you wouldn’t need to stop back here every evening after dinner, and could instead go straight to his rooms.

Walking towards him, you went to sling the bag strap up over your arm, but he held out his hand, palm up in offering. You gave a joking eye roll, but passed over the bag so that he could sling it up over his own broad shoulder. Instinctively reaching for his hand, you laced your fingers with his and gave a squeeze of thanks, as the two of you started off down the hall and upstairs to his room.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

#negan #negan x reader #ash writes #negan fanfiction #irresistible danger #negan fanfics #twd #the walking dead #negan's thirst squad #negan slow burn #negan x you #negan x oc #slow burn #twd negan #fanfics #fanfic #fanfiction

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cuinnamonbun · 3 years

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The brothers being accidentally in love with the Muslim even though they can’t be with them... would they lowkey convince the MC or would they sulk lol

(Say if it goes for both ways, MC is a hopeless romantic lowkey lmao)

OOF. So much angst. This one is a real brain teaser, I had to read SOO many tragedy poetry and fics to get the feeling so excuse the sentimental writing LMAO. A bit of warning though, I feel as though the brothers are OOC in this which is seriously messing me up, but I didn’t want to leave you bare-handed!

I feel like this HC requires a bit of context in order for people to understand why I wrote the brothers’ reactions the way I did. So I’d like to iterate the fact that I, too, am a hopeless romantic and I definitely believe love can change even the most difficult man. I’ve always had this HC in the Obey Me! universe that every creature is fallible and that the brothers, once fallen, are now much more vulnerable to these new emotions than when they were angels since they’re no longer bound to the service of God y’know?

So with that in mind, onwards to the HC!!

p/s: I’ll post the little brothers’ reactions soon, hope you liked this :)

How the Brothers React to Accidentally Falling in Love with a Devout Muslim MC (Big Brothers)

Lucifer

At first, this man will pursue MC for not-so-wholesome gains (cough corruption kink cough). Lucifer is a very decisive man. He knows what he wants and unashamedly goes after it and he will stop at nothing until it’s rightfully his

But in his pursuit, I could see him actually, really, really falling in love with MC

It’s their pure, kind soul that attracted him initially as with all the other demons, but the more time he spends with them, the more he gets sucked in until all he wants and craves is MC

It’s almost heart-warming if not a bit concerning

However in his chase for MC’s affection, Lucifer would forget one crucial detail: MC is a Muslim, one whom is devout especially now having seen angels, demons and hell right in front of their eyes and when he accidentally witnessed them praying, he will just shut down and instantly remember that they are not meant to be

To put it simply, it’s illogical for them to even be together

When the realisation dawns on him, he immediately turns a full 180 and become a massive dick to MC, even borderline cruel that shocks the brothers

If MC confessed their love to him, Lucifer’s heart would soar in happiness, but his pure, unadulterated love for them would force him to push them away and tell them that he doesn’t reciprocate their feelings

But I could also see his Pride taking factor into this.

A prideful demon such as he, who willingly defied God and fell from Heaven, he would absolutely REFUSE to have his partner so dedicated to God.

It won’t sit well in him at all and it will absolutely leave a bad taste in his mouth

But this doesn’t change the fact that he’s still in love with them, a fact which he DESPISES and is DISGUSTED by

When they left the Devildom, Lucifer would do what Lucifer does best: repress his feelings. That, or take it out on Mammon lol

But seriously though, he would need an outlet for his anger, heartbreak and yearning and he would most definitely drown himself in work or by punishing his brothers.

He can pretend all he wants that he’s fine, but Lucifer’s cues are pretty easy to read especially since MC has managed to get the demon brothers’ to bond with and understand each other deeper beyond surface level (a miraculous feat, kudos to our MC), the others can definitely tell that there’s some serious repression going on

But Lucifer gets very snippy whenever the brothers try to help him with it, which irritates the HELL out of them and they would be too annoyed with him to even bother helping him now

Now that his pride has driven away both the very person whom he loves and his brothers, Lucifer will become even more withdrawn and far, far lonelier than he was before MC came into their lives

Sometimes, he curses the circumstances that led them to him, even if they were the best thing that ever happened to his family

Yeah, heartbroken!Lucifer is just ;((( (Alexa play bitches broken hearts by miss billie eilish)

Mammon

This man is a capital S simp.

Mammon gets attracted to anything shiny/pretty REALLY easily (after all, it’s one of the main reasons why his symbolic animal is a crow) so him being attracted to MC at first didn’t really come as a surprise

I think he knows the difference between finding someone attractive and actually being in love with them despite having never even fallen in love before

He’s lived for centuries and plus, his own sister loved a human, he’s certain he has never felt that for anyone before

Him realising that he’s in love with MC would definitely come as a shock to him though. This tsundere can deny it all he wants, but he can’t deny the fact that MC’s mere presence alone gives him serenity and cardiac arrest at the same time

His initial reaction when he comes to terms with it would definitely be to flee and avoid MC like they’re the plague. But this man pines and when he does, his sin will flare up and MC will find themselves with a very clingy Avatar of Greed by their side

To Mammon, being in love is the equivalent of stepping outside of your home for the first time in weeks and feeling the gentle warmth of the Sun caressing your skin

He is gentler, more compassionate, and more attune to MC’s feelings. He definitely places them above Goldie because they are his most prized possession, the keeper of his heart, the rarest jewel and like everything he treasures, he takes extremely good care of them. But he would NEVERRR let MC or his brothers EVER know about that (sike, everyone knows it, he’s so soft for them it’s so obvious. They find it endearing though)

Which is why when he remembers that they’re Muslim and that they worship God, the very deity he curses and rebel daily against, his heart would break

He isn’t stupid (well, not all the time), he’s lived in the Celestial Realm before. He has seen the humans who reside there once they pass their mortal life. They were infinitely exuberant compared to the ones who were condemned to a lifetime of punishment in the Devildom for their sins

And he could never doom them like that, it would hurt him to see his love miserable and depressed down in the Devildom even if he would want nothing more than for them to be together forever

So, he would bottle up his feelings and try his best to live in the present and enjoy what little time he has with them, even though he felt like that entire year passed by in a flash (which, in demon years, is most definitely like the blink of an eye)

If MC reciprocates his feelings, I can picture him being so, so joyful about that fact, but he knew that their romance is a tragedy right from the beginning. He is a fallen angel, he can’t change his nature and he has transgressed against God in the worst possible way; by swearing eternal enmity towards Him.

I can’t picture him getting over them, even after they’ve passed and are thriving in the Celestial Realm

omg I'm gonna sob Alexa play Smile by Juice WRLD

Leviathan

We all know that Levi thinks of MC as his Henry, his number one best friend

And he’s right. There were no instances of their hangouts being anything more than platonic

When he first started falling for MC, he’d deny it like Mammon did

Him? In love with his best friend? Preposterous.

Eventually he’ll come to realise it though because they were probably watching hilarious videos on the Internet (cough Buzzfeed Unsolved cough) and Levi was so distracted because he was just staring at MC laughing suuuper hard at the video in pure awe. Like his lil demon heart just went doki doki

Pure joy is so beautiful on people and seeing it on MC?? They were pulchritudinous

But even after coming to terms with it though, Levi becomes SUUUUPER shy and embarrassed about that fact that for the first few days, he avoided them because he couldn’t compose himself in their presence

Eventually our beautiful demon of envy will snap out of it by MC cornering him and tearfully telling him that they miss his company

So now they spend even more time together and Levi will slowly become more confident around MC

This means soft, shy touches turn into ‘accidental’ brushes against them then to full lingering touches until finally, he becomes confident enough to throw his arms around them in a hug

Unfortunately, depending on the gender identity of MC, this may not fly all that well

In Islam, contact between opposite sexes whom you have no familial relation to/are not married to is considered a sin (I can elaborate in another post if anyone is interested in it though) and MC will have to politely turn him down, but this doesn’t mean that they hate him. It’s far, far from that

They have to be gentle in their explanation to Leviathan. This man’s self esteem is so low that if MC were to ever recoil from his touch, it would send him into a shame spiral and self deprecating thoughts that is much, much worse than before

So MC will have to remind him that they are Muslim, that they are bound to the services and will of God.

This reminder will destroy him though and his sin will absolutely consume him

He would become so, so envious of God that someone as amazing and wonderful as his MC is so dedicated to Him, and in his envy, comes wrath.

Though his wrath is not as potent as Satan’s, it is enough for him to act irrationally and ruin his friendship with MC

He just couldn’t stand to be around them because all he wanted to do is to hold them, kiss them and love them and his envy for them will become too much that he will start to breakdown because of it

I do picture him being a yandere though with his being the Avatar of Envy. If MC returns his feelings, it might be best that they keep it to themselves and not make it known because this man WILL latch on to them and never let them go

He would absolutely turn them against God if it meant he gets to be with them for eternity even after they die

#obey me! shall we date?#obey me #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me mammon x mc #obey me levi x mc #muslim!mc #obey me x muslim!mc #swd lucifer #swd mammon #swd leviathan #wow levi's went from super wholesome to super dark real quick #angst

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jjkpls · 4 years

Text

crayons ‘hana’ (PG)

> genre : fluffy fluff, light angst, comedy

> pairing : kim namjoon x reader

> words : 4.5k

> warnings : none (except a rusty quill)

> Y/N, a primary school teacher, is way too soft for the quiet, timid new child in her class. Little did she know, the adult version, who engendered this cutie, is even more charming.

> next

**words in italics are spoken in Korean

It's a grey day.

The Sun is acting up. As if It had been vexed deeply and now, no matter how loud the kids are calling after It, It just won't budge. Hidden behind the thick clouds, not hinting a tiny ray through the heavy shower, It won't show the tip of Its nose today, you have no doubt about that.

It takes some time to persuade the kids of that fact though.

The better half of recess is spent arguing, they just won't admit that for today, the break will be taken in class. It renders most of them gloomy, unable to accept the harsh reality, even if they've lived before -back in the beginning, when you were still too lenient, letting yourself drag into endless quarrel leading to stupid and quite irresponsible compromises- the traumatizing experience of standing in the middle of a storm. You still remember the awful concert of cries and the race to pick every kid somehow induced in a panic paralysis, one under each arm, to bring them to safety in urgency -thank god, Jeon Jungkook had been there, with his stature, able to stack up five of them at the same time, incredibly useful, pretty much life-saving. What you remember even better is the severe scolding you received from the principal, who thought -as you should have- that no matter how bad the children insisted, they shouldn't be playing outside in the rain.

You knew that. They just wouldn't believe you and you thought that, maybe, they just needed practical proof. No harm was supposed to be engendered. And quite frankly, none occurred. Children sometimes just enjoy being dramatic and it was the perfect, quintessential occasion to do so, especially if the principle is in earshot -which she was.

In any case, you learned your lesson. However, they did not.

Charlotte, standing on her pretty polished pearl white shoes -that you know, for a fact, that you'll get in trouble if her mother comes to pick her up to find them ruined by the terrible weather-, chin up high, hands tucked to her side, won't stop arguing with you as the main spokesgirl for the class. Apparently, it's “unfair”.

And it is unfair. Weather is not meant to be fair and you have not a single take on it. Try to explain that to a five-year-old.

“Ok, everyone, listen up!” Everyone's little heads swing forward like those car bobbleheads, wide eyes ogling you with burning impatience and clear, obnoxious delusion. They're all waiting, expecting you to open the door and let them free into the wild. “Let's make a deal, alright? Who wants to make a deal?” And everyone, even if they, for the most part, have no clue what's going on, wants to -except for Charlotte who's eyeing you with a suspicious glare and for Jimmy who's hiding in the corner, a sad scowl on his face. “You know that I don't have any power over the rain. But I do have powers over how long recess will last.” You act smug as you say that, their little impressed faces adding to the effect. It becomes painful to conceal the giggles blooming in your chest. “Since you already wasted half of your time, I have a proposition for you. You'll stay twice as long on break, meaning until it's 3:45,” You explain, pointing on the big clock hovering your desk where the long hand will be standing when the break ends. “if you can stay calm in class, ok?”

The announcement sends them in a fury, the simple idea of having a longer break overwhelming them with hysterical joy. So much for staying calm and collected.

Fortunately enough, I've been gifted with overall sweet children. It doesn't require more than a collecting "shh" and a reminder of the term of the bargain for them to quietly divert into groups, colonizing different lots of the classroom. Some ask for books, for paints or crayons, for the plushies and the toys they brought along to school -even though they're not allowed to- and a tranquil atmosphere rises and sets itself upon the room.

It's very nice, even for you. Sitting at your desk, watching over them with a distracted eye, you wonder if you'd be allowed to spend the rest of the day like so. They're talking, laughing and creating, sharing, being kind to each other and this whole ambience, slower than usual, calmer, more peaceful seem greatly beneficial for them. They don't feel any kind of pressure from having to learn, having to follow a predesigned, normative rhythm. It's pleasant and healthier than usual. Even if you try your best, constantly, to render every single day as filled with positivity through the required productivity as you can, you can't help sometimes stress and tension from blooming. It suffices one Kevin to come to class, sleepy and upset from a bad night, triggering a Charlotte who ends up scowling and nagging at everyone all day, and then everyone is in a terrible mood. Exercises are a pain to go through. Keeping their attention on you a quasi impossible challenge to overcome. Bringing their spirits up an unreachable, delusional aspiration.

But here and now, spending their time and energy on what they want with their chosen friends, in the comfortable warmth of the safe classroom, with the rain gently drumming on the windows, you can sense peace and joy and it fills your heart with content to the brim, or, almost to the brim.

Your heart could be spilling out with joy if it wasn't for this one, tiny pout adorning one tiny chubby face. Jimmy hasn't budged much from earlier. He had to leave his own desk to relocate at the very end of the room because a few girls decided to set up their library on the adjacent table.

His posture is the same though. Sitting quietly, his back pressed into the corner, hands tucked together against his belly, his big dark eyes are observing his classmates attentively. You read fear but also curiosity that's eaten up by something else, maybe sadness. It's a heartbreaking sight you're unfortunately too used to witness.

Jimmy arrived two months after everyone else. You don't know much about him. Because you haven't had the occasion to meet his parents yet, but mostly because he hasn't spoken a word since his arrival. His pouty mouth, shaped like an adorable button, hasn't opened once. Not even that one time you tried to have him participate and had him tearing up and crying, overwhelmed as he felt under the attention. He just sat silently, eyes drawn downwards, munching on the inside of his cheek, while tears ran down his round cheeks while all the other kids watched, as bewildered as you.

You almost quit your job that day. Certain you were not cut for it, somehow, finding out only now, at 26 years old, that you were a horrible, cruel person and your vocation and higher call were just all a blatant lie.

It doesn’t come as a surprise that today, once again, he’s hiding in his corner. You've tried a few things before. You didn’t just watch, waiting on time to operate and break his thick shell on its own. You've consulted the principal, colleagues, the internet. You've looked for clues, for tricks and after having tried quite a few, with little to no success at all -you've made him look up to your eyes, a thing he had been incapable of before-, you've decided to lay off a bit of that zeal.

You were getting too invested, even as this child’s teacher and you knew it wasn’t a good idea to pursue. As for him, you didn’t want to harm him in any way. No matter the benevolence and kindness and softness you put in every single one of your interaction, you thought, he seems so wounded already, you could break him, without meaning to, by simply trying too hard to smother his hostile edges.

You calmed down.

It tastes like defeat, coating a heavy layer in your throat, it never ceases to remind itself to you each time your eyes fall upon the sad pout and curious eyes.

Today is no different.

Everything would be perfect if only, for once, he could mingle with his peers and if you could, for the first time, see the shades of his smile. If he even knows how to smile.

Rising from your chair, you pick up a few pencils from your personal collection -the precious ones, unbitten at the top, unbroken at the tip, tall and seemingly unused. You don’t ever lend those to the kids as you know they’re not mature enough, and they won’t be for a long time to come, to care for your stuff the way those crayons need to be cared for-, a few white sheets and a sharpener and quietly make your way to him. He catches you and your intention from afar, his gaze fixed on you as you get closer.

He doesn’t utter a word, nor adumbrate a movement as you crouch next to him, soft smile, soft gestures. It’s a bit hurtful to think about it this way but it’s like approaching a wild tiny, tiny helpless creature -you're terrified to see it flee away.

“Hey Jimmy,” You say kindly, ignoring pointedly Charlotte who’s watching you (you can see her from the corner of your eyes) so that she knows to not interrupt or try to interfere in any way. “Would you like to draw a little?” You lay the material in front of him. His whole attention is offered to you and while you're glad you’ve reached that point where he can actually look at you, you can not help but wish he’d look away as his heavy stare suddenly makes you feel anxious. “Those are my personal crayons. I’m sure I can trust you to take care of them well, right?” He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t blink, doesn’t smile. You're not sure if he’ll even pick one of them up. You know he won't in front of you anyway and not wanting him to feel cornered and pressured, after another sugary sweet smile, you wave him goodbye and let him be.

The afternoon goes on, calmer than usual. It's as if they were brought to a state of peace so deep, they're now willing to accept any unfairness the world has in store for them. When the school bell rings, the children quickly run to the racks, grabbing their coats and little bags. A few of them start piling up at your feet, whining for the teddies and toys and lip balms they brought to school this morning and that you had to hold hostage as they are not supposed to bring them to school.

“Could we have another recess like today, miss? Tomorrow?” You see the shimmery eyes, the pressing pouts and impatient wiggling of the butts, waiting as patiently as they can for an answer. You're glad they had a good time today, still, a part of you can't help but regret it all. That part, conscious from the start, of how it'll all come back to bite you in the arse. No matter how cute they are, those little monsters always end up munching your arm up to the shoulder if you only do as much as tend an open hand their way.

“We'll see.” You say, waving them off. You don't mean to be so misleading but there's no way you're sending those kids home crying hysterically because they haven't heard the answer they were looking for.

Quickly they're all out of the class, seen outside to their carers by Adrianne, the lovely woman who helps out you, along with all the other teachers, with the kids every day.

There's only you and a little mess that you're able to tidy out quickly. In the corner, lay the little pile of papers and the crayons that had been obviously unused. Your heart squeezes briefly uncomfortably but you were not expecting any different from him. Since he arrived, two months ago, Jimmy has only drawn or traced letters or painted or built anything when the rest of his classmates were doing it too. You assume it's because he feels like he can't refuse to do something everyone else is doing. When it's just about him, when it doesn't concern directly the course, when it's just for pure personal entertainment, he simply would not do it.

You notice something. If he didn't draw anything on the sheets, he touched the crayons. They're piled very neatly, all tips turned the same way, one next to the other on top of the papers. What a sweetheart.

What a lovely, lovely kid.

It sends a rush of hope and determination back into your heart. You're not utterly desperate. It might take time. Maybe you won't be able to make significant progress until the very end of the year, when you'll have to say goodbye to him once he changes classes, but you don't despair to reach him, eventually.

And maybe that's all the universe needed -the conviction that you're not holding into this kid in pure vain- to offer you a generous little push. The magical manifestation comes in the form of Jimmy himself, escorted by Adrianne whose hand hovers few centimetres atop of his dark mop of hair, standing in the doorway, eyes drawn to the ground as if he's in trouble.

“Jimmy's father is running late and I-” She winces a little, grimace accentuating the lines carved on her face around her easy smile.

“You want to ask me something, don't you?” You tease knowingly. She looks embarrassed until she catches your wink, understanding she's probably fine to ask you anything.

“It's Felicia's birthday and I promised I'll be home early...”

You have to contain yourself, to not sound as ecstatic as you feel, to not drop to the ground, hands held high in gratitude towards the sky, settling for a simple: “Okay, I'll stay with him.”

“Are you sure?” She asks because she's nice and considerate but she's already turned her body towards the hallway. It doesn't take much more convincing to have her disappear.

It's only Jimmy and you now.

You're giddy but anxious. He doesn't even raise his head once she's gone. He just stands there, little raspberries tinting his cheeks and you're filled with a fondness tightly intertwined with sadness because he shouldn't look this guilty when he's done absolutely nothing wrong.

“Come have a seat.” His black eyes raise high enough for a split second, just to see where your hand is patting before quietly, he makes his way to the chair adjacent to yours. You've laid the papers and the crayons you'd picked up from the ground, an idea had come to you. There's no chance you'll have him draw something for you but you could draw for him.

You don't know if it'll have the same effect as it does on the other children. It's this special, unique teacher power that turns every single one of your shitty doodles, gifted to one of them, into a priceless, beautiful gift. It's the funniest thing and one of your favourites. The feeling is like the one you get when they fight and have to make serious arguments and deals to decide who will be the lucky one to hold the teacher's hand today.

Surely it's ridiculous but it does flat your ego grandiosely.

You're not expecting this kind of reaction from Jimmy, you'd just like to create some sort of contact, an interaction. Staring down at the white sheet, you're left speechless, nervous. It's been a while since you've sat in front of one of those, with no clear indication of what you were supposed to lay on it. Quite frankly, your crayons you only use to grade. The feeling is terrifying and you realise, gulping, that you didn't miss it. Maybe that feeling is the reason why he didn't pick up a pencil to draw himself. Was he filled with the same irrational paralysis that comes with the fear of the unknown?

“I'm not really good at drawing, to be honest with you... Do you like cats, Jimmy?” His big eyes watch you carefully. No answer. He simply munches on his lips, waiting for you to fill in the silence. “You probably do. Or, I hope you do because cats are what I draw best. Let's see.” You mumble, picking up a blue pencil to start -another consequence of the unusual anxiety you're feeling, suddenly picturing cats being blue.

It takes him a hot minute to open up the slightest. Actually, it takes about half an hour. Half an hour of you talking on your own, making conversation for the both of you; of you struggling to draw the cat you were certain you knew how to draw; of stopping every now and then to go over the basic body shape of a cat. It starts in the form of him snorting discreetly -you almost miss it- when you almost curse, fishing your cellphone out of your back pocket to look for the ugliest but easiest drawing of a cat you can find online for reference, tired of erasing and redoing the same damn curve of the cat's neck and messing up each time. It continues with him accepting to chose the next colour for what you keep calling “our cat”. He picks a deep purple for the back of the kitty, a bright yellow for the paws and apple green for the eyes. It's kind of funny looking but in a way you've done it together and your heart is filled to the brim with happiness. When it's done, sort of, you're ready to grab a new paper, hoping that maybe, on this one, he'll feel comfortable enough to grab a pencil himself and leave an actual mark on his own but the universe taps gently but firmly on the tip of your fingers, reminding you to be thankful for what happened today but not to be too greedy.

It's the tall and dishevelled man, stumbling loudly through the door that interrupts and determine the end of today's progress. Jimmy raises on his seat on reflex, running into the man's -you assume to be his father- legs. The man seems a bit uneasy, with his trench coat poorly buttoned, his dark hair messy with a thick strand sticking up to the roof, forehead crossed with worrisome lines. He reaches for the little boy, carrying him up to his chest, smacking a big kiss on his forehead; Jimmy's short arms are reaching far, far away, wrapping as much as he can around his father's neck and the previous wrinkles simply fade away.

“I'm so terribly sorry!” He apologizes, voice remarkably low, sounding lovely somehow even through the tension straining it. “I had this meeting that just lasted forever, I'm so, so sorry. It won't happen again.”

“No it's totally fine, don't worry about it!” You might be screaming a little bit because the big, impressively built man is now bowing with Jimmy draped around him like a koala and you feel so embarrassed because 1) no one has ever bowed to you, 2) you sincerely didn't mind staying a little bit later (especially given it happens more often than not) and 3) you were glad, you feel fortunate for the chance you just had to spend more time with Jimmy and see a spark of something you've never seen before. The reason you made a good improvement, you believe, is because the circumstances were favourable. Having a class filled with twenty-five other rambunctious kids that require great attention, at all time, doesn't, ever, allow you to bond with the boy. “Please don't, it's fine.” You insist, forcing him with wide gestures to stand up straight again. “Jimmy is one of the sweetest kids of my class, honestly, it was no bother.”

The dark eyes, perfect imitations of the ones Jimmy carries, display a lovely glint at my comment. He attempts to look at his son who’s snuggling in the crook of his neck, smiling softly.

“Is that right, Jiminie? My good boy.”

Jiminie. Without knowing what he says, the sonority of his words sounds so gentle and lovely, you can tell why the boy turns all sheepish.

There's a loud kiss pressed to his cheek and you can hear a high giggle, shy but sweet, as Jimmy squirms a bit in his dad's arms, pressing a hand to his ear. The scene is so, so adorable, you would cry if only you were not too worried to give off a terrible portray of an unbalanced and ugly-crier of a teacher to this father.

Father that you’re meeting for the first time.

And this fact, lost in the middle of a storm of agitated thoughts, manages to find his way to the surface after a little while of just awkwardly standing there, not really knowing what to say.

“Mr Kim, actually, I'm glad you're here. I meant to- meet and maybe have a little conversation with you, I don't know if Adrianne told you-”

“Yes, yes, she did. Of course. I apologize, I was supposed to get back to her with a date but work has been pretty- hectic. I've just changed job and-” You nod, genuinely understanding. If you don't know much about this man, nor this family in general, you can tell from the layers of fatigue that even the tender smiles he generously grants his son can't diminish, that he's not having the best of times. “It's not that- I don't want you to believe that I'm not invested in my son's education, it's really not the case-”

“Oh no, I don't believe that!” Quite frankly, you'd say that to any parents that come to you with these kinds of doubts, it's probably the worst thing you can do to a parent to criticize their parenting, their love, especially when you know from experience than most, even the ones that mess up and scar, don't commonly mean to. Parents are just adults and adults are just humans. Trying to figure shit out and actually not knowing jack shit about much. As a teacher, of children that young too, you owe to help them turn their progeny into the best versions they can be, as a team.

But this dad, standing there, distress and something akin sadness shading so much of his face, there's so little room for softness, a hand tenderly massaging the back of his boy's hair, you have no doubt, whatsoever, that it's not the case. That he tries and probably struggles, with whatever their circumstances are, but means the best. “I really don't. It's just I'd really like- I mean, I need, to have a little meeting with you. I receive every parent at the beginning of each year, it's important for me to understand better the child...” You would point out that in Jimmy's case, it's absolutely necessary given his behaviour but you don't want to say it in front of him. You've been reassured before by the principle that you weren't to worry too much. Jimmy was not, in any case, in any kind of danger at home, she had made sure of that after you first came to her with your concerns.

It's supposed to be a case of extreme timidity. It's confusing. Still, you were ready to accept this as the plain simple explanation if only you could talk to his father, have him confirm it and validate with your own personal impression. “I understand that you're working and don't have much time to yourself and that it's a bit- I mean, even as adults, no one likes to have to attend a teacher's meeting,” Only the corner of his lips twitch a little, yet you gladly accept it as a win. “Would it be possible for you to make just a little slot in your schedule for me? I won't take too long, twenty minutes at most? Whenever you can! Before class if you want or after, in the evening, sometimes I'm still here until 7. Or at lunch! Absolutely whenever is good for you.”

“That's very kind.” Is all he says.

You don't know what to say to that. You're not sure he is right. You are especially invested in your work and your pupils. You've been told before that, maybe, you should lay off a bit -you're told each time you cry at the end of a school year, thinking about all the faces you adore but won't be seeing every day anymore. But most teachers are, you want to believe. Min Yoongi, from first grade, wouldn't be as generous with his time, that's for sure. He'd probably come up with a date that'd fit his agenda and if possible inconvenience the most the parents' schedule and demand that they do make the time and be present, guilty-trip them if they seem reluctant. But that's just him, being a lazy cynical asshole. You want to believe he's an exception and any other teacher, in your shoes, would act the same way.

That being said, the way he's saying it, wide eyes sort of laced with a certain confusion, serves to thicken the compliment.

“Whenever is fine.” You repeat, lacking a direct response to his words. There's a tiny curious eye, picking from the collar of the trench coat, observing you attentively. You smile to Jimmy, picking up the drawing of the cat you've drawn earlier and handing it to him. “I'll let you off now, Jimmy is probably starving.”

After a few seconds of just staring at it, Jimmy sneaks a hand out to accept the drawing, face instantly burying further in the fabric of his dad's clothes, all shy and embarrassed.

“Thank you. Thank you very much for today and for any day really. I promise I'll make sure to meet you very soon.”

“Sure, perfect. Jimmy, see you tomorrow?”

“You say goodbye, Jiminie?”

He mutters something you don't quite catch, enshrouded as he is in the fabric adorning his dad, but his father and you decide that it's the answer you were waiting for. A wave and a stumble down the hall later -one that nearly gives you a heart attack as the prospect of the man actually eating shit with tiny Jimmy still in his arms hit you-, they're gone, out of the school and on to their way home you assume.

You're entirely alone now. Giddy as a school girl overly excited about something mundane that doesn't require this type of enthusiasm. You're not precisely sure why. It's a storm. Again. An overwhelming storm of emotions. In the mix of it all, you can decipher the loud, brilliant thoughts regarding the tiny shy little boy, and a future brighter than the one you used to picture for him. One where he's not scared of everyone, where you can hear his voice and see him giggle without his dad for him to hide behind. And something else.

You're not sure.

You don't suck at your job, you decide, as you think back about the adorable chubby finger pointing shyly at the crayons he wanted you to use.

A/N : as always, a lot of love send your way, thanks so much for reading, i hope you enjoy it :)

#btswriterscollective #thekimlinenet #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts fanfic #namjoon fluff #namjoon drabble #namjoon fanfic #my writing

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girlmeetsliv3 · 5 years

Text

Killing Me Softly: II

Sugardaddy!BTS x reader

They were beloved. The very ground they walked on worshiped. It had been that way since before you were born and it would remain that way even after your choice. Decisions decisions, it would decide your future. But why choose one when you could choose them all? If you chose none, well… that wasn’t a decision you could make.

AN: This is for the person who requested an ot7 sugar daddy story where bts are yandere. Sorry, it took so long, but this ended up being a three-part story. Hope everyone enjoys it!

Trigger Warning: The following story contains mentions of manipulation, abuse, and vivid descriptions of abusive acts. The behavior and mindset of the characters in this will be incredibly yandere and toxic. This is a work of fiction and doesn’t represent the character of bangtan sonyeondan. Enjoy ~~~

Word Count: 4,915

Tag List: @perrryyysblog @purpuravm @doodlesandthings @catsandstrawberries

killingmesoftlywithhislove

_Eight Months Ago_

A fit of giggles erupted from your chest as you desperately tried to hide your face from the camera pointed directly at it. “Stop it, it isn’t funny.” You attempted to sound serious but the grin on your face made it rather difficult. “Don’t be so shy,” Jungkook grumbled, but his eyes were filled to the brim with joy. The two of you had been laying around all day when Jungkook suddenly asked you to be his muse. He had been low on inspiration and wanted some pictures, you didn’t think much of it. Until he had pulled out a lingerie set and suddenly his suggestion didn’t seem so innocent anymore. It took a while, but he had managed to convince you to at least try it on before pulling out his camera and taking candid shots of you. “I don’t want weird pictures of me in your next display. Just so some weird old guy can buy them.” You pouted. Jungkook sighed before letting the large Sony A9 fall to his side. Thinking you had won, a smug look crept up your face, which was quickly wiped when you were tackled to the ground. To his credit, Jungkook had made sure you didn’t hit your head, by placing his hand on it, but when your butt hit the hardwood floor it still hurt.

“Fuck Kook. Seriously.” It couldn’t be helped that a moan of pain escaped your lips. The effect it had on Jungkook noticeable as his pupils quickly dilated and eyes became hooded. He leaned forward leaving wet kisses all along your jaw and neck. “Let me fuck you…please?” His hips began to grind against yours and god knows you would’ve given in if, “I told you I’m on my period.” A loud groan left him and now it was his turn to pout. He stared into your eyes, cupping m\your cheek gently. “Well can I please take pictures of you? They’re just for me. I can even crop out your face later if you want.” His tone was whiny, his hips also slowly rolled into yours causing the horniness you felt to worsen much more. Without thinking of the potential consequences, you nodded. A shit-eating grin spread across his face, as he lifted his camera once more.

_Present_

Jungkook’s house was an architectural marvel with it being angled towards the top and the top two floors being made entirely out of glass. It had freaked you out a bit when you first saw it, but you quickly realized the windows were tinted so that if you were to peer inside one would see nothing. You had always spent to most time inside his house, Jungkook was a homebody and preferred having slow sex on the couch or aggressively bending you over the kitchen countertop than going out. Yoongi was the same but being a photographer and not a CEO meant the man had much more leeway. A café would have been a better choice, but after your encounter with Jin and Yoongi, you learned they had little care for etiquette. The doorbell was one of those that had a camera that transmitted to your phone, so he knew you were there without you having to notify him. Sure enough, in less than a minute the door opened, Jeon Jungkook glaring down at you. Now all of them were intimidating to a certain extent but considering Jungkook was nearly a head taller and the images he possessed; he was the most threatening out of all of them.

Jungkook opened the door wider beckoning you to come in and hesitantly you did. Nothing had changed much from the ground floor, the part he always used as his studio. The door closed behind you and when you heard the beeping from the lock goosebumps rose in the back of your neck. He still hadn’t spoken, he simply walked past you are heading straight for the stairs. You followed suit even when you would rather have stayed on the ground floor – close to the door. When you reached the top floor the first thing you noticed was his bed; more specifically the pictures that laid strewn about. Quickly you rushed towards them, trying to grapple with how many there were. Some you recognized but others seemed to have been taken when you were asleep or in hotel rooms. It dawned on you when you recognized the blue bedsheets strewn about your naked torso in one of them that Jungkook hadn’t taken all of these. They had all taken pictures of you. A sob broke out as you whipped around to face the man, still standing by the stairs. “Why?” He shrugged as if you had asked him a meaningless question. As if nothing mattered to him anymore. “Hyung said we needed a failsafe. One just in case you refused to come back to us.”

Your blood began to boil. Jungkook had always been so gentle but once he didn’t get his way, he behaved like a child and threw a tantrum. This was the biggest one yet. “Do you even realize what you’re doing?! You’re ruining my life and for what? I’m sorry I don’t feel the way you want me to but blackmailing me isn’t going to make me run back into your arms. It’s only going to make me hate you more.” You were spiraling, all the pent emotions finally unraveling, and Jungkook was going to feel your rage. “I can’t get a job. Can’t move out. For fuck’s sake, I can’t even blink without feeling like one of you is waiting - watching. Don’t you understand?!” It was meant to be a strong statement, but it quickly turned into a whimper. All you wanted was a normal life and they refused to allow it. Once he saw your rant had ended, Jungkook stalked towards you pushing you onto the bed. His hands gripping your wrist tightly, caging you in with his body above you. In the midst of the tirade, you missed the way Jungkook’s face had darkened at the suggestion of you hating him. Missed the way his jaw clenched, tongue poking his cheek. Now you were truly in for it.

“You don’t need any of that shit. When will you understand? Why don’t you understand?!” He was centimeters away from your face, his nose brushing against yours but not in an intimate way. “We’re all you need. You said so yourself, so why do you want so badly to leave us? To live without love, care, trust, or money. Think about it. Why is it so difficult for you to accept it?!” The words he spoke cut through you like a blade. It was true that the seven men had cared and provided for you in a way no one had for the entirety of your life. However, if it was simple as that then you would have stayed. Would’ve given in. You would have succumbed to your darkest desires and their twisted needs. But it wasn’t that simple, it never was. “I don’t love you, Jungkook. I’m sorry but I can’t be with someone who would…do what you did. I’m sorry.” The sight of you was pathetic, you were sure of it, eyes brimming with tears and your body shaking. You wanted him to realize how pathetic you were, maybe then his obsession would stop. With a sigh, Jungkook let his face fall beside you his long hair tickling your nape. The heavy silence that hung around the two of you didn’t last for long, when Jungkook broke it he also broke your heart. “You love Hoseok though, despite what he did. You still love him. You would do anything for him, so how is it any different than what I did.”

Hoseok’s face flashed in your head: his contagious laugh, beautiful smile, his sun-kissed skin, the murderous look in his eye, the clothes tainted by blood. You shook your head to get rid of the image, causing Jungkook to chuckle. “You’re so willing to love him, but Hoseok wants us too. We want you too. I bet deep inside, you want us as well.” His voice deepened, the effect it had on your body involuntary. Your thighs clenched together, heart sped up, and panties became slick. Jungkook’s fingers worked to get your sweater off you, as he sloppily peppered kisses down your neck. Once it was off, his hands slowly rubbed up and down your arms but stopped when you flinched. The marks on your arms still incredibly sensitive, Jungkook stared at them before bringing up your arms to his lips and kissing them gently. Why did he have to be this way? Why did he have to be so cruel? Why did he need to be so kind? Jungkook crawled off you and faced the floor, instead of your face. Slowly you got off the bed, the pictures on it crumbled under you and Jungkook’s weight. It was a stupid thing to hope for, but you hoped that somehow your words had gotten through to him.

“Jimin-hyung and Taehyung are waiting for you at St.Pierre’s. If you don’t show up, I’ll leak the photos.”

Your tactic needed to change in order for this to work. Being kind, polite, and truthful had gotten you nowhere with the previous four members so something had to change. It was dangerous to be meeting both Jimin and Taehyung, the two could be brats and their antics only amplified when they were together. You had gone back home and changed into the most expensive dress you owned, a pair of red-bottomed heels, and style your hair into a nice updo. Makeup was also a must. The point was to look as if you were doing fine without them as if you didn’t need them. Showing up looking like a nervous wreck would only further prove their theory, you couldn’t have that. For the first time in a while, you felt attractive and lethal. You were going to march in their and have them surrender to you one way or another. You still had one card left to play and it was important they never find out about it, or else you would truly be ruined. Before stepping out the house, you shot a quick text to Sihyeon to make sure she was alright. Her response somewhat unnerved you.

Sihyeon: Can’t talk right now or for a while.

Y/l/n Y/n: Is everything alright?

Y/l/n Y/n: Are you okay?

Sihyeon: ttyl

You tried to call her, but it immediately went to voicemail. Fearing the worst you decided that once you met left St.Pierre’s you would go visit her, just to be safe. You grabbed your purse heading for the door, you unlocked it only to be met with the sight of the men you were supposed to meet at your doorstep. “We weren’t sure if you were coming so we wanted to stop by.” Jimin spoke a smirk on his face as he glanced at your appearance. Taehyung stood to the right of him a stoic expression on him. “I was getting ready. Wouldn’t want to look out of place next to the two of you.” It didn’t really matter what you wore, you would always be out of place next to them. The two men looked like Greek gods or sculptures that Rafael would’ve crafted. Taehyung stepped forward, peering over your shoulder. “Mind if we come in? Just for a bit?” It was a question per se, but you moved aside to let them wander in anyhow. The two analyzed your apartment with indifferent looks on their faces, Jimin went so far as to sit on the couch. “Nice place. It’s a pretty expensive location though, how did you manage to rent it?” His question threw you off guard as did the gleam in his eyes. Taehyung was admiring a framed picture of you and Sihyeon hanging on the wall. His back was towards you, so you couldn’t really tell what he was thinking. “Sihyeon knows the manager so we got it on a discount.” The less they knew the better. “Do you still have that necklace I gave you?” Taehyung questioned, still turned away from you. Taehyung had gifted you a small pendant when your birthday had rolled around, it was a beautiful amethyst attached to a gold chain. Without waiting for your response, he spoke once again. “I want it back.”

Your frowned a bit and glanced over at Jimin who was playfully smiling at Taehyung. The other had turned to look at him, and from what you could see smiled back. “Sure, let me go get it.” You walked to your room and headed straight for the jewelry box you kept hidden in your nightstand. You had never thrown away any of the gifts you’d received, deeming that a bit immature. You bent down to open the drawer, only to hear the sound of the door clicking shut. Quickly you straightened up only to see that both men were in your room now, blocking the exit. “Get out.” You chided, but the two didn’t listen. Jimin walking around and laying on your bed. “I always liked softer beds. It’s easier to sink into them as your being pounded from behind.” The vulgarity of his words shocked you. Taehyung smirking at your reaction. “The necklace babe?” You scowled and bent back down, ripping the drawer open and grabbing the necklace from the jewelry box. “Here now leave.” You threw it with all your might at his chest, but Taehyung caught it with ease. “Come on, you promised to have dinner with us,” Jimin whined, rolling on your bed until he was right in front of you.

“Fine then, let’s go have dinner. I don’t see why we’re still here.” Taehyung sauntered to where you stood, he stood so close you could see all the flaws he didn’t possess. At least not physically. “Jimin and I want dessert first.” It was when you felt the slight sting in your hand and Taehyung’s face was turned to the side, that you registered what had happened. It wasn’t his reaction that terrified you, instead, it was Jimin’s. The other man had harshly tugged you onto the bed, positioning you were strewn across his lap, ass in the air. You struggled against him, but when his hand landed harshly against your bottom you stilled. “What happens to bad girls, [Y/n]?” His voice rough, when you didn’t reply he landed another strike against you. “What happens to them?” You bit your lips to stop the words from coming out but at the threat of another hit they slipped. “They get punished.” Your dress was lifted up to your waist and you became aware of the sound of a belt being undone. Fearing the worse, you looked back only to see Taehyung with his belt in his hands the rest of outfit untouched. His hooded eyes met yours and he glowered, “You hit me [Y/n] isn’t it only fair that I hit you?” If you said no, the punishment that would ensue would be far worse. So, you nodded your head as you cried.

Taehyung had confessed to you after passionate lovemaking one night, that he had been bullied growing up. That he came to fear anyone touching him, for fear they would strike him. It had gotten better with time but the only people he really trusted were the other men and after that moment you. You had sworn to never hit him, to never hurt him, so when you slapped him it hurt much more than your abandonment had. Jimin too knew of his past which is why took it personally. Taehyung was his soulmate. You had broken him. The leather of your belt stung, however, it couldn’t compare to the pain you felt in your soul. Your mind was blank and too numb to focus on anything, too numb to play the game any longer. Too weak. Jimin was quick to pick up on it, “I’m going to ask you some questions [Y/n]. Answer them honestly.” You mindlessly nodded along to whatever he said, too lost in your own head to perceive you were about to lose it all. “How do you pay for the apartment, [Y/n]?” He probed, an eyebrow raised. “With my money.” The belt strikes once again, you lost count of already. “How? You don’t have a job? Are you sugaring again?” His hold on you tightened at the latter question. “No with the money I sa-” You had stopped midsentence when you realized what you had admitted. It didn’t matter as the belt had stopped and both Taehyung and Jimin remained still. Taking the opportunity, you crawled away from them and quickly moved off the bed. The dress falling into place rubbing against your sore behind.

A maniacal laugh tore from Taehyung’s chest, he had to lean over and clutch his knees in order to support himself. Jimin had quieted down, refusing to look up from his lap, a small smile on his face. After what felt like forever both gazed up at you, “That’s against the rules.” Just like that they stood up, dusted themselves off, and crossed over to you. Tenderly kissing your lips before walking out of the room, Taehyung poked his head back inside smiling. “Don’t worry babe, you’ll hear from us soon.” Before letting his right eye fall into a wink. At the sound of the front door being shut, you fell to your knees in prayer. Head falling onto the cold tile underneath, “Please. Please, I’m begging you.” You didn’t know who you were begging god, a guardian angel, fate, the men who had just left your apartment, or the one who was surely going to visit. It seems your body had reached its limit for you fell asleep right there and then, the dark world fading around you.

_Ten Months Ago_

The television screen in front of you had been forgotten, as Hoseok and you lay wrapped up in each other on the couch. You weren’t sure if this is what you were supposed to do. If this was okay. Being a sugar baby didn’t really come with manual instruction, the videos online didn’t really seem to fit your relationship with Hoseok either. It seemed logical to allow him to take the reins never questioning what he wanted or why he wanted it, so long as you were comfortable. Hoseok seemed to like this as well since it meant you never really objected to anything, unlike his past arrangements. There was also your uncanny ability to read him, just like now. Hoseok had been on edge as of late, it could’ve been work but you noticed he was beginning to spend more time with his friends and less with you. It would’ve been fine if his friends hadn’t begun to try to be with you whenever Hoseok stood you up. The dynamic was strange, and you were sure he had noticed it. Hoseok reached over for the control, pausing the tv show. His face was unusually stern, it worried you. “Hobi is everything okay?” The man sighing. Before he turned to look at you with a melancholic smile.

“Do you remember when you asked me why I didn’t have a normal relationship?” You nodded hesitantly. It was something you had questioned when the two of you had gone out for Thai food on your second meeting. Hoseok had said he didn’t really have time for courtship and that it didn’t really interest him. “I lied.” Noticing the concern in your eyes, he pulled you closer against him. As if he had a secret to confess that he wanted no one else to hear. “I can’t have a relationship because I already am in one…an unconventional one.” You were admittedly, shocked but not surprised. Of course, Hoseok would have a girlfriend, the man was the complete package. The longer you thought about it though, the more you picked up on his words. “What do you mean unconventional?” The relationship between the two of you was unconventional for sure, but that wasn’t what he was hinting at. “My friends and I are…” His mouth began to quiver and immediately you pulled him in for a hug. “It’s okay Hoseok. You don’t have to worry about that, I mean it’s the twenty-first century. People are more accepting nowadays.” Somethings were beginning to make sense: the tension between the seven men. The way they all seemed to communicate effortlessly. You weren’t even upset because if it means Hoseok was happy then you would gladly pretend for the sake of appearances.

“I’m not gay [Y/n] not entirely. That’s not what I’m worried about either.” He chuckled humorlessly into your chest. “What?” Hoseok pulled his head up and stared at you lovingly. His thumb trying to smooth away the frown in between your brows. The man simply sighed and smiled a bit before responding, “I’m worried because I want you too. I want you to be a part of my life, [Y/n] and so do they.” It took a while for the words to sink in, but you weren’t sure what to say or how to respond properly. “Uh. I…” The discomfort you felt was indescribable, as was Hoseok’s fallen expression. “It’s okay [Y/n]. I get it. I’m sorry for bringing it up.” You shook your head, “No. If that’s what you want. If it will make you happy then I’ll-” Hoseok interrupted you, by pressing his lips against yours. Tears of joy streaming down his face. The kiss broke when the two of you no longer had any air left in your lungs. Hoseok pulled you into his chest, running his fingers through your hair. He spoke so softly you struggled to hear it. “… love you.”

_Present_

The obnoxious blaring of your ringtone had woken you up. You could barely move, and your muscles ached from sleeping on the hard floor last night. All you had dreamt of was methods of escape, maybe if you left the country for a while everything would smooth over. You would apologize repeatedly to Sihyeon for leaving on such short notice, but it was also for her own safety. If you left the boys would no longer feel the need to target her. Some time away from them might also help your ever-increasing paranoia and your weakening mental state. Settled on your decision you located your laptop and searched for cheap flights out of Korea. Maybe you could go to Japan for a bit? Or even Hong Kong? The longer you thought about it, the more the latter seemed like a safe bet. Japan was simply too close, they could reach you in less than two hours, and they had connections there. You purchased the round-trip tickets and inputted your card information waiting for the confirmation page to pop up. Instead, you got the notification that your payment was declined. You tried again but it still didn’t work. Wanting not to stress, you searched for your credit card and tried that one. Still no luck. No this can’t be happening…

Opening another tab, you quickly typed in your bank website and tried logging in only for it to say that account didn’t exist. Your phone rang once again and this time, you acknowledged it. Pressing answer without even bothering to see who it was. “Hello?” The voice of a friendly man spoke back to you, “Good Morning Miss Y/l/n. This is Yuri from Woori bank calling to update you on the state of your account.” You sighed in relief, “Yes I was just about to call. I can’t access my account or funds.” Yuri made a noise of acknowledgment, “The thing is ma’am your account is being investigated, so you won’t be able to access it until the investigation is being completed.” You frowned, “Investigation? Why is my account being investigated? I haven’t done anything.” The line was silent for a while before Yuri replied, “The bank received an anonymous tip that the money in your account may have been acquired through fraudulent means. Whenever that occurs, we close the account and investigate it along with the police, its bank protocol.” You scoffed, “I haven’t committed any type of fraud. The person who reported it was lying or mistaking me for someone else.” Yuri didn’t seem fazed at all by your accusation, he simply hummed and waited until you finished. “Unfortunately, it comes from a highly respectable source. If the investigation proves inconclusive, the account along with the funds will be returned to you anywhere from two to three weeks from now.” His tone was too polite. Too professional. As if he was talking about the weather when in reality he was accusing you of committing a crime.

How would you survive two to three weeks without money? You couldn’t very well leech off of Sihyeon. You needed to pay rent, you needed to survive. Why – That’s exactly why they had done it. You could feel the wrath completely consume you. It was better than letting the sorrow win. It was better than giving up and succumbing. Anger was always better. You were so unbelievably angry until you saw the text from Sihyeon.

Sihyeon: I need you to pack your things and move out.

Y/l/n Y/n: Why?

Sihyeon: Jeonhan says you’re a bad influence. Yoongi told him everything that happened between the two of you. Why didn’t you tell me?

Y/l/n Y/n: You don’t understand. He’s lying.

Sihyeon: I don’t, and I can’t. I’m sorry but I need you gone within the week.

Sihyeon: Jeonhan threatened to leave me if you didn’t… I can’t lose him.

Sihyeon: Please understand.

You understood. How couldn’t you? Now that you had lost everything there was only one choice. You clicked on contacts and scrolled down to find the name of the man who you loved the most. Tears welled in your eyes, snot came out your nose, your lips trembled uncontrollably until you heard the familiar sound of the phone being picked up. You wish you could’ve remained silent but instead, you broke down. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Hoseok. Please…” He didn’t reply simply hung up the phone. That was all it took for your last string of hope to break. You willed yourself up, beginning to place your belongings into a bag. You could come back for the other items later if you would come back. Dressing into some comfortable clothing you searched up the nearest women’s shelter intending to walk there. It was a forty-five-minute walk but escaping the four walls that surrounded you sounded like a good idea. Maybe you could have sold some of the presents they had given you, or resell some of your more expensive clothes, but some part of you knew nothing good would come from that. Instead, you walked out of your bedroom, into the hall, you were about to turn towards the door when something caught your eye. The frame of Sihyeon and you had been taken off the wall, hanging on the nail was the necklace Taehyung had given you. You debated on whether to take it before grabbing it off the wall and clasping it around your neck.

When you reached the outside of the apartment complex there was a black Bentley Bentayga parked alongside the curve. Your heart sped up thinking it could be him, only to be disappointed when someone else stepped out of the driver’s seat. Only to then be confused when he strolled over to you, “Excuse me Miss Y/l/n. My name is Bo I’ve been sent by Mr. Jung to escort you to him.” It was a bad decision but all the previous times you had made ‘good rational’ ones had led you to where you were now. So it couldn’t be helped that you got into the car and allowed Bo to drive you to God knows where. You also couldn’t help the way your heart jumped with glee at the possibility of seeing him again. Though it broke your heart, you couldn’t ask Hoseok to choose between you and them. You also understood that what Hoseok felt towards you was not love, no matter how much you wished that it was. It was an unhealthy, controlling, possessive obsession; just like the rest of them. Hoseok didn’t see you as an equal but something to own. To consume. The ride had lasted an hour and a half, your phone slowly losing reception the further away you got from the city and the denser the forests became. It was when you passed by a small sign that opened into a clearing that you recognized where you were. The North Jeolla Province distinguishable from all the others as was the mountain area where the driver had turned into the place you had visited nearly two months ago with the seven men, the place where you had celebrated your birthday, the place where you witnessed exactly what the men were capable of doing in the name of love.

As the car pulled into the area where the Hanoks were, you wondered whether or not you would soon join the rotting bodies buried underneath the ground. When you laid eyes upon the man standing outside the main Hanok, his eyes peering into the car window and the heart-shaped smile on his face, you were almost certain you would.

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

Unforeseen Chasm (Part 64)

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together.

Word Count:2655

Warnings: Language, dark moment for reader, 5 yrs after the snap, grief, anger, killing spree, new love, endgame plot, enter Uncle Wade Wilson,hope, worry, Song for this part: Cruel Summer- Taylor swift Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my novels). It’s a collaboration with the amazing @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo. It started as a funny “What if…?” and it evolved and got huge. This took two years to write. We are both proud and happy and we hope you enjoy it. It follows from Thor 1 to Endgame in the MCU. Some of the timelines may be off in order to fit certain people, and some characters may show up earlier or in different ways than they have in the movie. But for the most part, it follows the MCU. It also has a bit of crossover with some other Marvel characters throughout the story.

Masterlist for Unforeseen Chasm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t kill me, I have family,” the man begged.

“So did I.”

You charged the knife and flung it at his head, stabbing him between the eyes instantly killing him.

That was the last of one of the cartels in Brazil. He was a ruthless, horrible man that you’d been tracking for two months. Him and about ten others who worked for him. But you’d just single handedly killed all ten of them in their warehouse.

About eight months ago, you ran into Clint Barton. Apparently, when the snap happened, he lost his entire family and went off the deep end like you did. He was filled with bitter rage. Wondering why monsters like this survived and his family was gone. You were both tracking the same people and when you found each other, you agreed to stay together. It made sense and both of you felt like it was nice to see a familiar face with a similar past and same vendetta.

Remy followed you everywhere. He stayed in horrible hotels and motels, just to follow you around. Sometimes he followed you on your missions, lingering in the shadows making sure you didn’t get hurt or need backup. You and Clint sometimes fought together, so he wasn’t too worried, but other times you two worked separate jobs or different jobs in the same area, and that’s when Remy would watch out for you.

You came back to the room you’d rented. Since the job was done, you’d pack, sleep, and move onto the next target you’d talked about with Clint. Remy stayed out of the way of you two, never saying or offering any judgment or criticism. He understood the path you two were on. He didn’t like it, and he didn’t think it was bringing you much joy, but this was what you wanted, and to be honest, the world was better without the people you were killing.

By now it had been five years since the snap. Your first year was filled with global travel then settling down in New Orleans. The second year you tried to find domestic bliss with Remy, the two of you having steady jobs. Then the last 3 years were filled with hate, rage, murder, vendettas.

What you did… what you were doing… it didn't bring you joy, but it made you feel better for a split second that horrible people weren't ruining good people's lives.

Remy had been great since the day he showed up in Paris. He had been understanding of Loki and never pressured you to move on. Remy understood where he stood in your heart and he accepted it because this was all he had wanted for many years. He wished he didn't have to watch you suffer and grieve to get to this point, he somehow wished things were different in that he was your first choice and not Loki. But ultimately, he respected your heart's desires.

Truthfully, you did love Remy. You had told Shannon what seemed like centuries ago that perhaps in another life where you didn't know Loki existed or had never met him, Remy would be your one and only. Now that Loki was gone though, it felt so wrong. It felt wrong to be happy, to even think of moving on, to even entertain the idea of loving another.

Half of you couldn’t imagine moving on without Loki - he was your life, your life, your world. He’s the one you wanted to share your life with. The other half felt guilty to experience any happiness, because it was your fault the world was the way it was. Why should you get a happy ending when it was your fault everyone was in this living Hell?

But your heart doesn’t listen to logic or reason. You didn’t mean to fall in love...

This had been on your mind for quite some time. Perhaps right after he almost proposed was when you started to really take notice of him. But it wasn't until maybe three months ago, almost five years after the snap, that you felt like you could maybe allow yourself to love him back.

You weren't ready to give up on Loki, or even consider moving on, but perhaps there was room enough for more than one love in your heart.

Remy had been nothing but kind, sweet, understanding, and supportive. He let you grieve and deal with things the way you needed to. If you ever asked for space, or pulled away from a kiss, he didn't get upset or disappointed. He'd just assure you it was alright. He was with you, day in and day out, practically since the snap happened. Without him, you weren’t sure you would’ve survived this long.

After all that, and everything you went through as children together, how could you not love him?

Simple: you did.

“How’d it go?” Remy asked once you got inside the hotel room. He was reading a magazine at a bar in the little kitchenette the place offered.

“Job’s finished,” you answered simply.

“So it’s Japan next?”

“Yep.”

You started to grab some quick food to make yourself some dinner. “I’m sorry to do this to you. To drag you all over the world for some… vendetta.”

“It’s alright. I know why you have to do it,” he assured.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you smiled, pulling the food from the cabinet. Something in you told you he needed to know how you felt. That it was the right time, if there ever was a right time.

It was time to face the harsh reality that Loki wasn’t coming back. None of them were. You couldn’t live every day in his memory, drowning in grief and depression. It was time to move forward, as hard as it was, you knew it was the right decision. And doing it with Remy wouldn’t be so bad, right? He was a wonderful man with a big heart.

"For whatever it's worth, I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?” you asked through tears as you turned around to face him, a bit of a laugh coming out of you.

He looked up grinning like the devil. “I think that’s the best news I ever heard,” he countered, getting up to round the bar before he took you in a hug. “I know that was hard for you to say, cher, but I love you all the more for it,” he assured softly as he brushed his knuckles across your face.

You gently smiled before giving him a quick kiss.

It looked like this was the start to the beginning of a new chapter for you.

---------------------------------

You were in Japan now, taking care of one of the mafia that had been in power for decades here. You just decimated one of their safehouses, leaving a pile of bodies behind you. Clint was digging up more information at the moment and he would take the next hit on the mob.

Just as you grabbed Remy to go find some dinner, you two were walking down the street, it was wet from a recent rainstorm when you suddenly heard someone say your name from behind you as they grabbed your hand.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” Wade said. “Of course your Y/N who am I kidding”. He went to pull your hand.

The sudden action made you move reflexively.

As you spun, you charged his hand and as he pulled away to gasp in pain, you mustered up your dark electrical purple energy in your left fist and slammed it into his chest, the heel of your palm colliding with his sternum. It sent him flying backwards into a cart on the sidewalk. You straightened up before glancing back to Remy, confusion on your face.

“You’re not exactly friendly, are you?” the man asked as you stared at him. He was getting up, wiping the debris off himself. He was clad in a red and black suit from head to toe. “Should have known better than to try that.” His tone had a sort of whimsy to it , almost as if he was telling a joke.

“Who the hell are you?” you all but growled, your fist raised and still glowing.

Remy came up behind you though and gently lowered your arm. “Cher, I know this man.”

“You know him?” you accused, as if knowing this idiot was an inexcusable offense.

“Unfortunately, yes. This is Wade Wilson. He’s an X-Man,” Remy explained.

“Correction I am not an X-men,” he offers his hand. “Deadpool’s the name killing’s my game.” He pretended to curtsey.

Your eyes shot back to the man now known as Wade and you narrowed your gaze. “Why are you here? What do you want with me?”

“First of all, let me just say wow about that little trick of yours. Also to be fair, you overreacted,” he quipped.

“Overreacted? Some stranger just grabbed my hand. You're lucky I didn’t kill you. Now what the hell are you doing here?”

“Listen here, buttercup, I’m here on a favor of Shannon Stark. Remember her?”

Your mouth fell open slightly. “You know Shannon?”

“Yeah, we go way back!” He waved his hand. “I babysit her kid time from time but the point is, she wanted me to find you, to bring you home. She’s worried about you or something. I wasn’t really listening. I just owe her a favor so I got the gist of the mission and then said, ‘You owe me one hundred chimichangas and not the cheap stuff because I know Stark can afford the nice ones so don’t even think about skimping on --”

“Do you ever stop talking?” you interjected, glaring at him. “Wait, did you say Shannon’s kid?” This hit you like a wrecking ball.

Shannon had a child? There was… she… a child? You couldn’t wrap your head around it.

“No, he doesn’t,” Remy responded as he stared him down. “Wade, go on home now. Y/N and I don’t wanna go back. We’re happy and we are on our own.”

“Yeah see that wasn’t really part of the contract. I’m supposed to bring you back and --”

“Sorry to disappoint, but you can’t bring me back, I’m not going.”

“You’re gonna break Shannon’s heart,” he said with fake sadness.

“I already did, but nice try.” You turned and started to walk away.

“Well too bad because I don’t take no for an answer so gear up, we’re heading back now.” He went to pick you up. “And don’t try doing that little trick of yours again. Shannon said to bring you back but she didn't say in what condition.” Deadpool smirked.

“I already told you, asshat, I’m not going anywhere with you,” you replied and jumped back flaring up your purple energy. “You can just tell her you haven't found me.”

“Well it looks like that won’t be necessary. See the thing is she already knows you’re here.” Wade sing-songs. “When you weren't looking, I sent coordinates and they had been on standby.”

“You what?!” you all but shouted, terror snaking in your voice. “Remy, we have to go.” You started to turn and grab his sleeve.

Unbeknownst to you, Shannon had already gotten there and was waiting for the moment to appear.

“Are you really going to be a sack of unicorn shit and just break her heart like that?” Wade asked, cocking his head. “So much for being a good sister.”

Feeling guilty you turned to him. “She’s survived without me for this long I’m sure she’s more than fine.” You shook her head. “And what's a little heartbreak when she’s fine?”

Just then Shannon walked out of the alley she and Natasha had been waiting in. Both women went their separate ways. Shannon to you and Nat to Clint.

“So you’re really okay with breaking my heart after everything we’ve been through?” Shannon called out loud enough for you to hear. “What happened to being family?”

The sound of her voice cut you like a knife.

“You’ve got your own family now, it sounds like. I thought you’d be better off without me, and it appears I was right.” You let your hands span out beside you before falling, a sad smile on your face.

“Y/N, you’ve been gone for 5 years! You have no idea what's happened in that time.” She shook her head. “We may have found a way to reverse what Thanos did, but we need you—I need you.” She stretched her hand out to you.

“Sorry to ruin the moment but I’ve done my part,” Wade interrupted the moment. “Now when do I get my chimichangas?”

You eyed Wade for a moment, irritated with him after only five minutes. Then your gaze shot to Shannon’s hand.

“Really, Wade? Couldn’t this wait till after we got back?” Shannon asked, looking a little annoyed. “Plus they’re at the cabin, hidden because you got Morgan addicted to those!” she retorted.

Sheepish, he ducked his head. “It’s not my fault the kid hasn't tried all the good stuff.” Shrugging, he added, “It’s not like they’ll harm her anyways.”

“Just get back to the quinjet.” Shannon turned her head facing you again as Wade retreated. “Sorry about that, he can be a lot to handle sometimes.”

“Clearly. Much like, was it, Morgan? A child? You have a child?” There was venom and betrayal in your voice. Although, to be fair, she had no way to reach out to you to give you any news. That was on you.

“We can talk all about it, if you come back with me.”

“Why do you need me?” you questioned.

“It’s an all hands on deck sort of situation. You’re just about the only one who stands a chance against him.”

“But last time--”

“Last time was different. We know what we’re up against now. There may be a way to reverse it. To get everyone back.”

Tears pricked at your eyes. You hadn’t cried over Loki in some time. He was on your mind, every day, always, but the grief laden sobs had slowly died down over the last five years.

“Don’t promise something you can’t deliver,” you warned, your fist balled up. You could tell Remy was getting worried at your side. “I can’t go through this again.”

She stepped even closer to you, taking your hand. “You won’t. We will win this time. I promise. You need to come home, Y/N. It’s time.”

You looked back to Remy who gave you a look that told you this was your choice, your call. You knew he’d follow you anywhere, no matter what you chose.

You heaved a sigh and turned back to Shannon, giving a firm nod to let her know you were in. This is what you’d been waiting for. Now it was finally here, and even if it meant possibly losing everything again, going through the same pain again, it was worth it to try and get everyone back. To get him back.

Once everyone was back on the quinnjet. Things got a bit quieter. You had fallen asleep, leaning on Remy. Shannon walked over to the two of you and covered you in a blanket.

“Here, she’ll get cold soon, she always does when she’s on here.” She smiled sadly seeing just how tired and bruised you looked. “I’ll let Tony know you’ll be staying with us. Did you want to share the room with Y/N or your own?” she asked, unsure of the situation.

“We can share a room, that'll be fine. Thank you, Shannon. It’s good to see you again.”

“Okay. Is there anything you guys might need right away? It’s good to see you too.”

Remy shook his head. “Nah, we should be good. Thank you though.”

“Alright then but if anything comes to mind let me know okay?”

“Will do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List: @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @missinstantgratification @thejemersoninferno @rda1989 @munlis @thefridgeismybestie @bubblyanarocks3 @igiveupicantthinkofausername @kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr @kaelingoat-blog @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo @damalseer @heyitscam99 @yknott81 @sorryimacrapwriter @glitterquadricorn @xxqueenofisolationxx @little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama @bittersweetunicorm @alyssaj23 @sea040561 @princess76179 @thisismysecrethappyplace @sarahp879 @malfoysqueen14 @ellallheart @breezy1415 @marvelmayo @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @cocosierra94 @hardcollectionworldtrash @capsmuscles @marvelloushamilton @paintballkid711

Loki: @lostinspace33 @ultrarebelheart @lenawiinchester @esoltis280 @tngrayson @wangdeasang @harrymewmew @jayfantasyatyourservice

UC: @lokis-high-priestess

#unforeseen chasm #loki fic #loki x reader #Loki Laufeyson #tony stark fic #tony stark #tony stark x ofc #Past!loki x reader #gambit x reader #remy #clint barton #mentions of morgan stark #natasha romanoff #wade wilson

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kendrixtermina · 4 years

Text

Now here's an all new theory for where the procrastination comes from

Like the uni councilors thought of like generic selfhate insecurity or like spineless ppl pleasing (nope an anime cured me of that when I was 13 - thst sounded more like what that ladys own problems might be), fear or failure & wanting to spite my father, eveb that getting ahead through "talent" was an unfair advantage bad tainted and evil, or that "talent" meant being beholden and controlled by others (definitely somewhat right - we worked on that, it helped, the second guy was defs much much more helpful & compatible cause he focussed a lot more on strategies than wannabe-maternal pep talks) but there was always something else there that wasnt getting touched

In tje end I dont think I have talent and in any case what really matters is attitude toward "living the examined life" for example whst you do. What you notice.

Now I did notice that things get harder to do precisely because I actually want them(whereas a lot of ppl get distracted from stuff because they dont really want it) - at the same time I can totally function or pick up new habits in day to day life its not like I have some "hardware problem" like, say, ADHD or the like.

Like of course its some emotional knot it couldnt be anything else but I feel they didnt identify what kind of knot? Certainly not that first lady. If im trying to get clarity and you give me reassuring pep talks you just freak me out more for the love of god tell me whats happening. Nothing worse when a Doctor says "it will be over soon" rather than explain the procedure

Fear of/ distraction from wanting itself never really occured to me thats not a common stereotypical fear that ppl talk about.

Let me get this straight I never thought I was better than anyone I knew very well that I'm not. I thought of both those things as ways not to get bullied, maybe get somewhere where I feel that im in the right place.

If I look back at really breaking experiences it was times I really really wanted something and then I couldnt do it or some outside party stepped on my fingers. That Tori Amos Music Video where she escapes from a psycho killer's trunk and then the passerby's dont help her? That was my most favorite music video in the world for years maybe still is.

Like I was told I could maybe skip third grade and I poured all my energy and passion and strenght into that everything I had to do well, make friends with the new class i was so highly motivated I aced all the exams I felt so happy & fulfilled just being in thst flow state all the time... i wanted this more than anything. Maybe it was the first time I really wanted something beyond vague dreams or base desires. But the homeroom teacher hated my guts and put the kibosh on that; Probably because I was unwittingly repeating some of the artogant classist shit my father spouts without realizing how hurtful it is. my parents thought it wasnt worth going to the higher ups for that but having to essentially redo 4th grade in a crap school in the different town we moved to was one of the worst times of my life. Also I didnt find out that the teacher had hated me/acted in a petty way until years after I thought I just failed. That there was a possible place I could have belonged but turns out I really belong nowhere after all.

All my effort was for nothing. It was such a joy - i mean these days even getting code to work or solving math problems has that same joy - but all that effort and joy and wanting did was that... im tearing up and searching for the words to even process this tbh. I think I denied that joy, told myself that I was just a stupud kid thinking I was a special snowflake. It didnt even matter.

Rather than insist on staying up late to make sure my homework was done I just stopped caring and hardly did another piece of homework in my life just faking it on the spot or coasting through. It could have gone another way maybe if it werent for the bullies and my father the chief bully or if only I was more determined but it was like "okay I dont care anymore I just dont care" and I think thats stayed my default response to dissapointment to this day.

This TV show didnt turn out like I wanted? I dont care its just a tv show.

My father treated be with hatred all my life? Its okay I dont care about him and I dont want his love anyway.

Like there were other times when I thought I could be happy.

Like I really wanted to go to this boarding school for gifted kids. Again I thought maybe incorrectly that this would be a place where I can belong and not be bullied it was never about being better than anyone.

Again I wanted it I clamored and cried and made noise nonstop. Maybe I still hadnt wholly lost contact with willpower back then. I still thought of myself as strong willed.

And my father made me regret it. It was around the same time that mom briefly considered divorce maybe I was just the stress valve. Or he took it personally as wanting to get away from him. Duh he abused me of course I wanted away from him. He was such a suffocating control freak! Mom said yes first then he spoke to her and suddenly she followed everything he said. Thats when I really realized how emotionally manipulative was how abusive... i mean one of my first conscious memories of him is thinking "oh crap I will be just like cinderella" but he really laid it on so thick so transparently even a 10 year old could tell its manipulation. If you do this you dont love your mom. If you do this you dont love your siblings. If you dont obey me your mom will kill herself. No she wont you jerk even my 2 year old self could tell youre abusive.

The most cruel thing he did was briefly say yes. Again I got so happy. So invested. Just bending all I was towards that even though he bombarded me with abuse and mental torture.

And then on the day we were supposed to leave he said no youre not going.

Maybe I actually did say I didnt want to go because of one time he was doing this constant scientology type torture on me

That same reaction: "I dont want it I dont want anything so please please let me be"

Ppl think of bad childhoods as a game that you win if yoz turn 18 -or 28 maybe - without killing yourself. But its not. Every year you live it can take away from your potential. Every day less than you have to live it

He sure didnt let me have sucess with his overcontrol and abuse. Anything I was proud of he rules. When I graduated from school with a fairly good but not perfevt final score he humiliated me. When I turned 18 he humiliated me. Everything I did was a burden even just feeding and washing me. Hed give me unwanted white elephant gifts then bitch about how giving them to me ruined his life cause he had to work so muxh "Ingrate Ingrate Ingrate" Butch I never asked for anything I want nothing!

But as I had to eat I did in fact have to ask things of him and I hated it so much.

No wonder that I turned out afraid of wanting things eh?

Hed seen some poster when we went to see tje school I wanted to go to - not by the school by an individual student - about the history of abortion portrayed in a positive way or at least that was his official reason why I couldnt go. Again I had wanted something badly with all my being and again all my being availed nothing. Irrelevant like I didnt exist. All my screaming gone unheard.

And this is so silly cause im not a child anymore I have control and if I were to stop procrastinating I could have money and gave even more control.

I havent even spoken to him in years now hes no longer relevant. Its not about him its about thus bad pattern I picked up.

I like how this books handles it with the idea that certain experiences dont create the type but that it nakes you uniquely suceotible to certain kinds of hurt or certain misunderstandings.

Because with all this discourse about bad message free media ive really come to think that while it can and should be minimized its not possible to eradicate cause human mibds are so quicl so fallible to extract overgeneralizations and make it mean something abput themselves

Like an immature statistical learning model easily overtrained by noisy data.

Another time I was nearly happy was when I started looking for work, doing my thesis...

Same pattern I was engaged, happy to be engaged talking to ppl at both work and in the uni work group loving it all so much...

my life had started to feel meaningful again. And it had gotten to that point in part because of my ex-fiance. Yes the councelling heloed taking up meditation helped, getting high on morning glory that one time helped a whole lot got more self esteem from that than I ever got from my father.

But that all started because of my ex fiance.

He was an i tellectual type and he had a sense of purpose about him like hes a legendary character and everyone around him became legendary too. And he found me useful! Others had called me "walking dictionary" with mockery and scorn he called me his google and it meant love and admiration. Maybe I got a bit of an ego trip off of tjat but I also really stupidly dumbtastically loved him I bragged of him to anyobe who listened everything he did seemed fascinating abd interesting and meaningful, but also I just loved the sweet gentle warmth of being next to him in the morning. Once again I was happy and everything was joyful even when it was hard, I felt strong and meaningful and useful and I let myself openly want things.

And then it all blew up. Worse yet i was so mistaken abozt him it really shook my confidence in my own judgement or any sense of clarity. I was si confused during the fucking breakup like I hadnt been since I left my father's house.

Google hah! More like his personal Alexa! It turns out he didnt respect or like me at all.

I couldnt even be sad or angry cause it was all my mistake. The one feeling I allowed - and even that took me weeks to identify - is dissapointment. Heavy leaden dissapointment i didnt even kniw that was a feeling you could feel so strongly. I didnt even do anything wrong you have to open yourself to have love. He could habe choosen to love me he just simply didnt. He probably thought he did but he wouldnt evebn do something as simple as not make fun of my voice or clean when I am sick.

Once he started putting me in the "wife" role he just became unable to see me. His loss really cause I think he wanted to keep me from all those annoying texts and email he had the nerve to write.

By all means I was right to trust but also right to leave later but still my sense of certainty and purpose and meaning was totally shaken. He did the sort of romantic stuff I didnt think was real. I knew I loved him when we had this conversation about water on mars. He got me the perfect books for my birthday! He said I was pretty and a genius and looked just like an actress. He got me this titanic esque heart pendant with stars. We were stuck at midnight in a train station that one time and he pulled out a picnic rug two plastic glasses and a shampain bottle. It never worked out but he said he might take me to see the LHC! I really thought we would be buried in the same hole folks!. He had read that same steven Hawkings book that I loved. One of the rather few books he actually read as I would find. Sigh.

And I fell right back into that same old pattern. Dont care about anything dont want anything it would be stuoid unrealistic and silly to want.

When I first came to uni I also had this feeling of hapiness and belongingness and wanting, I was putting in an effort, talking to ppl more.. and when things went wrong the slightest bit I pulled by hand back from that like from an open flame.

And here I am years later most the sucess or contact I get is comments on my fanfictions.

I thought I was doing that, or drawing, because its Stakes/Evaluation-free (going by the fear of failure theory) or because at least with the ffs gratification/payoff for effort is immediate compared to original stuff or uni work. Its a nice little niche at least.

I mean I do care about it its not "just" distraction but maybe ive been profaning it in that way... and so etimes I dont even do that and go for full unadulterated undebatable distraction; Line to 7 I guess. Tje only reason I spoke face to face to anyone else than the delivery guy this week is that I had some doctors appointments.

But not its distraction from stuff Im too lazy to do or even from pressure like I always thought. But from wanting things.

So the original fiction went great while it was a distraction from school not so much when its one of the things I most want and actually have the time to do it.

Even thought thats the most practiced skill I have that I never stopped working on since I was 10. 🤦‍♀️

I mean they already explained that its basically like meditation. Or weeds. Or popup ads. Youve got to click them away as they pop up.

I always told myself thst I didnt have to be happy... and thats not even untrue actually but it would sure be neat to be happy again one of these days.

#enneagram #enneagram type 5 #feelings #enneagram 5w4 #5w4

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dapper-ships-herself · 4 years

Text

@dokiqx @raudrfox2

The answer changes a bit depending on the s/i, so I'm gonna start with more general and like personal and then go into my s/is.

Dazai and I both, let's say wrestle with certain feelings about life and the world around us. When it feels like you're adrift and very little matters, it helps a great deal to have someone to ground you, and that's Dazai and I for each other. When the world is cruel, we can reach out our hands and feel the warmth, and through that feel safe and real. Neither of us are used to letting ourselves be fully vulnerable to the people around us, we're always masking something, maybe not for entirely the same reasons, but we are. Our relationship is when we both let those walls fall bit by bit, letting go of fear and trepidation. He never even thought he could feel real love before, both of us had thought we weren't worthy of it.

And Dazai is a genius, he's amazing and confident in his abilities, he can see straight through pretty much anyone, so I think why would he even want me, I'm so boring and predictable, I'm not a fan of taking risks and putting myself out there. But Dazai sees all my good qualities, he appreciates my strong empathy and my compassion, he sees how even though I struggle with my own worth I put so much worth into the lives around me, and I have a fun way of thinking about a lot of things, I'm creative bright even when I think I'm not. I become like a fresh, sunny spring day for his soul. And Dazai, his hands are so stained and his mind so jaded, even as he works to redeem himself and be on the side that saves people, he thinks there's too much darkness to ever truly be washed away. But I know that even though he's done a lot of bad, what matters most is what he's doing now; he's trying so hard to be good, to move away from the darkness that only acted as a negative feedback loop for him, that was never good for a boy with a mind like his. He is actively trying to be a good man, and I remind him of that. Neither of us are ever going to be perfect, but that's fine when we're together through our flaws. And through it all, we help each other see the beautiful things to live for.

Okay, now let's go into some specifics for the s/is.

ADA! Gillian has been through some pretty deep trauma with the loss of her little sister when they were kids, and at the time she thought she'd never ever recover from that and stay in the emotionless darkness forever, but with the help of Fukuzawa and Ranpo and the other agency members, she was able to heal. Despite the guilt and trauma that still sticks to her, how easy it would be to write the world off as simply cruel and uncaring, that's not her style. She loves the world, she loves the people in it, she knows that there's darkness but that only means that the rest of them should try their hardest to spread as much love and compassion as they can to balance that out. To Dazai, her unwavering light is strange but so calming. She's so strong in her determination to protect her family and everyone and everything that needs saving, it really touches something in him. She teaches him that it's okay, that they deserve to laugh and love and live, and she helps show him how to actively view the world for it's good parts. Even if someday it's hard, some days she's sad and can't forget the past, some days she tries very hard to push away the anger that festers in her at the unfairness that abounds, she still tries and now they can stand by each other's sides and try together. And he also knows what it's like to suffer and lose the one person who's most important, and he helps her confront the guilt that still clings to her, in fact that's something mutual. And she also, even though she accepts and appreciates her ability for how it lets her help people, it's also an ability that takes away a person's free will and can cause a lot of destruction, and she is afraid of the inherent evilness of it, and though Dazai respects how she's made the concious choice to only use it to help people, he sees her fear and helps her accept it.

Mafia! Gillian and Dazai probably have the most complicated relationship of all. Neither really wanted friends or saw the use of them, but they became each other's first real friend after he joins the mafia. They connect and resonate in a much stronger and more natural way than either were really prepared for; and then they were part of the quartet with Ango and Oda too, and she loved them all. She could be quoted as saying the three of them were probably the only things keeping her sane in the Port Mafia. And then she went away on a mission for a few weeks, no contact with her friends, and suddenly that little slice of joy she had was shattered, Oda was killed, Ango had been a double agent the whole time, and Dazai had abandoned her without so much as a good bye, much less and explanation. It sent her to a dark place for a while. She wanted to hate Dazai, and she certainly felt bitter, but she couldn't bring herself to hate him; how could she, really. She disliked being in the Port Mafia, but not only does she feel she'd have no where else to go, that if she left she'd be leaving her father, Ougai, aka the only person who's ever seen to genuinely want her around and stay that way, but her ability is literally to control darkness and too much light literally causes her pain and discomfort, it's clear to her that she was born to forever stay in the world of darkness and never be able to stand in the light. When she and Dazai eventually meet again four years after he left the mafia, there's a lot of complicated feelings too work through. She's bitter and angry and can't understand why he'd leave her like that if their friendship really meant anything; Dazai thought it was the right move at the time, he justified it to himself by reasoning that he knew she felt chained to the mafia and he had to leave quickly and cleanly in order to successfully rid himself of his dark past, he couldn't risk waiting for her to come back from her mission and having to convince her. But, really, he was afraid. After all, he's convinced that everything he desires will slip through his fingers the moment he obtains it. If he tried to hold on to the happiness she brought him and selfishly took her with him, he'd only bring her ruin some other way, and he wasn't deserving of her. He genuinely does regret it though, and it's not easy for him to admit that he was wrong but he knows that this is one instance where he was so terribly wrong. They have to work through these feelings in order to get anywhere, and she also has to realize that she does have the capability to step into the light, which she does partially with Dazai's help. There's a lot of fighting through the bullshit to finally be together.

Jekyll! Gillian takes the stuff mentioned earlier about always masking some part of ourselves to the extreme. Her ability, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, literally manifests her jaded view of the world into a physical creature of chaos, aka Hyde. And she rejects Hyde hardcore, that's why she's so unstable, destructive, and difficult to control, as well as hates her in return. She puts on the sugariest of sweet faces to try and mask this darkness, but Dazai is able to see it. He recognizes her mask easily, because he's basically doing the exact same thing. Eventually, after a lot of plot haha, they're able to help each other let go of their facades a bit and better accept themselves for who they are. They find this kinship in each other that honestly makes it easier for them to let go of their guards at least a little bit. They both hold a lot of jaded darkness with themselves, and they've both done some pretty terrible things and dirtied their hands, him in the mafia and her in the Order of the Clocktower, and they were both able to break away from that to try and become better people, and that's really nice for them to be able to relate to each other.

Circus! Gillian is, true to the name of her troupe the Circus of the Disillusioned, disillusioned about much of the world. It's dirty and cruel and not on your side. But, the circus always promoted family, the whole reason Voltaire formed the troupe was to attempt to not lay there and accept their wretched fate, that they as humans should try and create at least small pockets of a world more right and colorful. And this ideal stays with her. So yeah, they're both not huge fans of the world, but she has a more innate desire to change that, and she believes it's the duty of humans to fight through and not back away from the world through means like suicide (does that make sense? Trying to word it properly). So she actually is pretty, hm, disgusted is too strong of a word to use, she clashes a lot with Dazai's suicidal jokes. And she's too tsundere and jaded herself to outright be all flowery ~I will help you~, but that sort of discussion is a theme between them early on. Their abilities are foils for each other as well, Dazai is an ability nullifier, she's an ability amplifier, and that sort of reflects their views too.

Guild! Gillian at first seems to have the most innocent view of the world, after all she's rich and spoiled by her father, Francis. And she acts rather carefree too, like someone who's always been secure and never known difficulty. But she has known pain, and there's more than a naive rich girl beneath the surface. She's cunning and knows how to read people, she's been trained in the art of business since she was a child and had it drilled into her that you must never roll over for the world. She's also been taught that she's the daughter of the great Fitzgerald, which means she's meant for greatness too, and she hides it from her father but that's left her with a desperation to prove herself and live up to a great big shadow. But she's genuinely kind too, she loves the world for it's flaws and wants to support the people in it. So yeah, they're ways of thinking clash a bit, but at the same time they work perfectly in other aspects. At first, it's more like he's interested in her for the sort of contradictions she poses, but he starts to genuinely respect her and admire how she chooses to see kindness and work for it, how she takes things in to her own hands to make the world she sees in her mind real. And she respects him for his intellect and eventually for his resolve once she learns of his past. And respect is pretty much the bud that will bloom into love.

There's a lot of fighting to find the light in the dark and acceptance of ourselves.

I hope this was all coherent and not to rambly ha.

#self ship #selfship #self shipping #selfshipping #self insert #dapper answers #dazian #dapper inserts #dapper inserts: ada #dapper inserts: mafia #dapper inserts: jekyll #dapper inserts: circus #dapper inserts: guild

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theladybugpriestess · 4 years

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🔮How To Use Playing Cards For Divination🔮 Part 2/2

♣️Cartomancy♣️

This is the continuation of my last post about using cards to predict. I’ll go over a lot of the stuff in the other post just in case you might not of seen the other or don’t want to read another super long post “I don’t blame ya” but I’ll still link it here for you. Go get your favorite tea and lets get into it!

Making Your Cards A Magical Deck~

⭐️ in this post in focusing on the Wheel of Fortune Deck, the Unity Deck is in part 1 ⭐️

This ones the simplest of the two, much less tricky. This is using Robert A. Ferguson’s method from his Universal Mind book. It’s a bit dated so I’ll try and modernize it here and there for your reading Convenience.

•Start by getting your deck, if you’d like to make the unity deck too pick up two! Or find some old ones you’ve got laying around.

• remove the two jokers from your deck, if you have another deck go ahead and add them to it for your Unity deck. Leave all the other cards be.

• at the bottom of each of your card draw something so you can mark it as the bottom (sigils are a fun idea)

Tip~ when turning the cards always turn from the bottom corner and flip! Pretty much turning them opposite of how they were placed originally

Good job baby doll! With that done you’ve succeeded in making your deck!

Wheel of Fortune~

The wheel of fortune deck is basically the regular Cartomancy deck but with a fancy name and and few extras. You don’t have to use it in a certain way but this is just an idea for you to try out. It can tell you anything if you listen.

How to use it-

• start by removing the face card that represents the person asking the question or you yourselves card.

Jacks represent unmarried persons of any sex.

Jack of diamonds. -Light Hair, Blue Eyes

Jack of clubs. -Dark Hair, Blue Eyes

Jack Of Hearts. -Light Hair, Dark Eyes

Jack Of Spades. -Dark Hair, Dark Eyes

Queens represent married women and widows.

Queen Of Diamonds. -Light Hair, Blue Eyes

Queen Of Clubs. -Dark Hair, Blue Eyes

Queen Of Hearts. -Light Hair, Blue Eyes

Queen of Spades. -Dark Hair, Dark Eyes

Kings represent married men or widowers

King of Diamonds. -Light Hair, Blue Eyes

King Of Clubs. -Dark Hair, Blue Eyes

King Of Hearts. -Light Hair, Dark Eyes

King Of Spades. -Dark Hair, Dark Eyes

Persons with eyes that are Brown, hazel or Green are considered dark eyes... I don’t really understand why either.

✨For my transgender or non-binary babes just choose the one you feel represents the true you best✨

• once the representative card has been placed face up on the table, have the person receiving the reading now ask the question

• shuffle them suckers up until they’re all mixed, while you mix think on the question like your telling the cards.

• if you are reading the cards for another have that person cut the deck

• deal a row of three card from right to left (this is the past)

• now a row of five cards from right to left (this is the present)

• finally a row of 7 cards from right to left (this is the future)

• now just read your cards as the interpretation says and enjoy!

The Past-

The only importance of the past is it’s relationship to the present. It tells you why you are now asking the question.

The middle card or the Key Card is always the most important, in the past it reveals what occurred in the past to bring about the situation or question.

The card to the right reveals what influences created this past experience.

The card to the left show how you reacted to this past event.

The Present-

These cards show you your relationship to the question or situation at this moment. They’re all pretty self explanatory.

The key card tells you where your question stands at this moment.

The right cards show what has happened in the near past in regards to your question.

The left cards show what you can expect to happen in the near future.

The Future-

These cards will answer your questions, it can also show you how you can change your future if you need to.

The key card is your answer to the fullest.

The cards to the right will tell you why your answer is the answer it is and what caused it.

The cards to the left will show you will help you change your answer if you don’t like it. It will show the future if nothing is changed.

Reading your cards~

Ace of ♣️

Up-The beginning of something new. An invention, family our journey

Down-canceling a new enterprise. Journey deferred, false starts

Two of ♣️

Up-courage is embarking on a new venture. Scientific methods prove best. Influence over another. A proud but unforgiving nature

Down-A good beginning faces failure. Physical suffering. Restlessness and fear

Three of ♣️

Up-realization of hope, wealth, or power. Caution against pride, arrogance and partnership. Help from another

Down-beware of help offered. Wealth may disappear. Treachery and disappointment

Four of ♣️

Up-rest after labor. Peace, prosperity, and harmony. A romance, marriage

Down- meaning the same

Five of ♣️

Up-violent strife, rashness, competition. A lawsuit. Boldness changes things for the better

Down-generosity. New business opportunities

Six of ♣️

Up-success through industry. Advancement and arts and science. Friends are helpful

Down-rewards after a delay. Watch for successful enemy.

Seven of ♣️

Up-you are in the position of advantage. Competition, but certain success

Down-ignorance, pretense. Caution, you are threatened

Eight of ♣️

Up-too rapid advancement. Hasty communications. Letters of love. Approach to a goal. Journey by air

Down-Delay. Arrows of jealousy. Stagnation in business our love

Nine of ♣️

Up-pause in a struggle. Good health, strength, and power

Down-weakness, ill health. Obstacles to be overcome

Ten of ♣️

Up-Power unwisely used. A test of the heart. A problem soon to be solved

Down-intrigue and separation. If a lawsuit is pending there is loss

Jack of ♣️

Up-A generous friend or lover will be cruel and brutal. A change of residence, quick departure

Down-discord and frustrations. Lack of energy. Work interfered with

Queen of ♣️

Up-practical with money and sound in business judgment. Success in love and home

Down-domineering, obstinate and revengeful. If married, could become unfaithful

King of ♣️

Up-agile mind and body. Honesty, friendliness, passion. This card may mean an unexpected inheritance. A good marriage

Down-intolerance, prejudice. Severe and ruthless

Ace of ♥️

Up-The beginning of great love. Beauty and pleasure

Down-faults love. Clouded joy, instability

Two of ♥️

Up- The beginning of a deep friendship or love affair. A balance between good and evil

Down-False love. Folly, violent passion. Misunderstandings

Three of ♥️

Up-success and abundance. Good luck

Down- sexual addiction. Overindulgence in food or drink

Four of ♥️

Up-dissatisfaction with material success. Kindness from others.

Down-New relationships now possible. Set new goals

Five of ♥️

Up-disappointment. Sorry. Loss of friendship, marriage, or partnership

Down-return of past alliances, love or friendship

Six of ♥️

Up-happiness coming from the past. A gift from an admirer

Down-living too much in the past. Possibility of inheritance

Seven of ♥️

Up-castles in the air. Imagination has been working overtime. Deception

Down-slight success must be followed up. Intelligent selection

Eight of ♥️

Up-May desire to leave material success for something higher. Disappointment in love

Down-interest in success. The spiritual is abandoned for the material

Nine of ♥️

Up-material success. Wishes granted. Good health

Down-misplaced reliance. Possible illness

Ten of ♥️

Up-lasting success. The perfecting of human love

Down-loss of friendship. Betrayal. Criminal intents

Jack of ♥️

Up-A young man who is lazy. Can bring a proposition or an invitation

Down-sensual, idle, trickery, falsehood

Queen of ♥️

Up-A woman who is a good wife and mother. Honest and loyal

Down-A perverse, immoral character

King of ♥️

Up-A man skilled in law and trade. He is kind and considerate

Down-A powerful man, but crafty and violent. Beware of being robbed of money or virtues. Obstacles. Great loss. Infertility.

Ace of ♠️

Up-The power of love or hate strongly. Possible birth of a child

Down-obstacles. Great loss. Infertility

Two of ♠️

Up-tension in relationships. I stalemate. Military friendships

Down-avoid imposters. Be generous with sympathy

Three of ♠️

Up-tears, separation, quarreling, political

Down-confusion, loss, sorrow

Four of ♠️

Up-rest after war. Relaxation of anxiety.

Down-renewed activity. Qualified success

Five of ♠️

Up-failure, defeat, slander, unfairness, cruelty.

Down-empty victory. Attendance at a funeral

Six of ♠️

Up-The future will be better. Journey by water. A journey in consciousness

Down-stay where you are. Unfavorable issue of a lawsuit or other legal matter

Seven of ♠️

Up-A plan may fail. In unwell attempt to take what is not yours

Down-possibility of unexpected good. Sound advice

Eight of ♠️

Up-betrayal. Fear to move from a situation. Temporary illness

Down-New beginnings now possible. An impulsive generous nature. Relaxation from fear

Nine of ♠️

Up-suffering, loss, misery. Illness. May mean the death of a loved one

Down-patience, unselfishness. Time brings healing

Ten of ♠️

Up-ruin of plans and projects. Defeat in war. Shuffle will come in spite of riches

Down-overthrow of evil forces. Sun success and profit

Jack of ♠️

Up-A brave young man. Domineering, but clean of heart

Down-extravagance . Bragging. Tyranny over the helpless

Queen of ♠️

Up-May represent a widow or one who can’t bear children. Morning for those who are far away

Down-gossip. Deceit. A narrow minded woman

King of ♠️

Up-this is a man who may be a lawyer, judge, officer, or politician. A lawsuit is about to begin

Down-distrustful, suspicion. Plotting. Has the power to disrupt.

Ace of ♦️

Up-The beginning of new wealth and material gain

Down-miserliness, Greed. A false start

Two of ♦️

Up-The ability to juggle two situations at once. Re-create. New projects may prove difficult.

Down-Forced gaiety. Inability to handle several situations at the same time

Three of ♦️

Up-material success. The master craftsmen, the skilled artist. This card rules groups and societys

Down-lack of skill. Ignorance. Preoccupation with Gain

Four of ♦️

Up-gifts, legacy, inheritance. An ungenerous character

Down-prejudice and suspicion. The Spendthrift. Chance of material loss

Five of ♦️

Up-unemployment, loss of home. Loneliness. Dark nightsfor the soul

Down-money regained after severe toil. Charity. New employment

Six of ♦️

Up-alms dispensed with justice. You will receive what you deserve

Down-jealousy. Bad debts. Gifts given as a bribe

Seven of ♦️

Up-unprofitable speculation. Anxiety about a loan

Down-inpatient. Little gain after much work

Eight of ♦️

Up-Learning a trade or a profession. A commission. Skills in material affairs

Down-false vanity. Intrigue. Skill turned to cunning

Nine of ♦️

Up-wisdom where one’s interest lie. Inheritance. A green thumb. Interest in homes and gardens

Down-days you’re from thieves. Cancel projects

Ten of ♦️

Up-richest. Interest in one’s family tree. A problem connecting a will or pension. May acquire a house or business property

Down-Family misfortune. Old people may become a burden. New projects are a poor risk

Jack of ♦️

Up-A man of upright nature who excepts responsibility. Trustworthiness

Down-A static nature that is dull, timid, idle, and careless

Queen of ♦️

Up-A woman who is generous with her material gifts. Trust of those around.

Down-mistrust, suspicion. Duties are neglected

King of ♦️

Up-success in Money matters. A man who is a banker or owner of large properties. A mathematician

Down-stupidity. Easy to bribe. If crossed, this man can become a danger

♠️♥️♣️♥️🖤

I hope this post was helpful! Thanks for reading this long post. I wish you all the post my dears

⭐️Here is part one to this post⭐️

#witchblr #tarot #divination #witchy #witches of tumblr #witchcraft #baby witch #witches #beginner witch #caromancy

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augustpch · 4 years

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The Significance of BTS’ Dionysus

Note: Although it's a bit late and there are probably many theories about this song already, I still want to give my take. I was actually supposed to post this two months ago but didn't finish it due to my schedule. Also, I’m afraid I have to warn you that this analysis is really long.

All song on Map of The soul: Persona are unique and meaningful in their own way, but Dionysus is possibly the track that we need to pay attention to the most, for so many ideas could be interpreted from it. Not only is the song a certain kind of a statement from BTS to the public, but it is also important in term of narrative to Map of The Soul series. To understand the underlying messages of this track, we may look at what the myth of Dionysus tells us.

(translation of the lyrics from twt @doolsetbangtan)

PART 1 – The Allegory of BTS Phenomenon

I’ll begin with the origin of Dionysus and its relation to BTS’ career history.

Among the Greek gods, Dionysus is special as the only one who is half-human, half-divine. Granted that the tradition of consuming wine has been an intimate activity of human since nearly the beginning, the god of wine is one of the two “best friends of mankind” alongside Demeter, the goddess of fertility and agriculture. Rather than being regarded as the one who belongs in the upper world, he is consider to be a great god of earth.

In much the same way, BTS stands out from other idols or celebrities, who were commonly deified by the public and their fans. While the artist holds the reputation of being the divine, they openly acknowledge and encourage the mortal side. That is to say, they don’t establish a kind of relationship consisting of the worshiped (celebs) and the worshipers (fans), but communicate with us like a person to a person, reducing the distance separating the gods from the followers.

BTS are not preoccupied with maintaining a certain image constructed to impress the audience. They aren’t afraid to show weaknesses, flaws, and worries, coming across as not different from us normal people. The band speaks with sincerity and eliminates the boundaries between the state of being divine and human. This closeness is what tightens the bond they have with ARMY. For this reason, BTS is also “the best friend of mankind” just like Dionysus.

What is more, the story of Dionysus’ life from birth to death can precisely represent BTS’ journey into the world of music. The myth covers the concept of embarking on a journey as a sign of entering adulthood, battling against the non-believers, and transcending suffering and death—or like this part of Yoongi’s verse:

“Born as an idol, then reborn as an artist.”

BTS’ success in breaking into America is how they proved themselves to those who looked down on them in the past. Nonetheless, they still can’t avoid the same old unwelcoming attitude, now coming from another industry. The fight against racism, xenophobia, and the attempts to damage their position at the top still goes on, and they will have to continue to find a way to survive it.

The same scenario happens to Dionysus. When the god reaches his hometown, the king of Thebes, Pentheus, who is actually his cousin but doesn’t recognize him, thinks that Dionysus and the maenads are “queer,” “objectionable,” and “should be stopped” (familiar, isn’t it?) No matter how Dionysus tries to persuade Pentheus, he strongly refuses to acknowledge him as his god. The king’s final destination is far from favorable, as he rejects and insults the divine.

This raises some questions: Is the king “blindness” towards Dionysus’s divinity “ignorance” or “prejudice”? Which one, then, defines people reaction when hearing BTS’ name? Regardless of the answers, those who dare to threaten the god will eventually meet their doom like Pentheus. It doesn’t matter what opinion you have against them, BTS is here to stay, they’re here to celebrate. And that’s exactly what the Greeks do to worship Dionysus. The god’s glorified resurrection was celebrated by doing plays in theater.

Similarly, performing Dionysus is how BTS proclaims their victory over the sufferings they have experienced, which made them stronger and shine brighter ever than before. The stage is the theater for their play, and we are the audience invited to witness their glory.

I’m at the door of the world now

The loud cheers I hear as I step onto the stage

Can’t you see my stacked broken thyrsus

It’s only now that I am born again

The myth of the god of wine therefore is the perfect allegory for BTS’ story. It’s suitable that the track was placed at the end of the album because it shows that this is where they ended up being after the long journey over the past 6 years. It’s also the fact that BTS chooses not to be resentful towards their past; they’d rather celebrate it, meaning they are not willing to let any obstacles restrain them. This song is a way to present themselves as the greatest boy band in the world. Whether you agree or not, one thing still stands: it’s certain that you won’t be able to escape from them.

Breaking a new record is a race with myself, a race, yeah

Raise the glass of celebration, one shot

But I’m still thirsty

What

PART 2 –Enjoyment & Pain

Since Dionysus is a symbol of wine, it’s impossible not to discuss about alcohol as a coin with two sides: it can give rise to both enjoyment and pain. Dionysus can be, as he was sometimes regarded, “the god of holy inspiration,” motivating people to act bravely or creatively, but at the same time he can be cruel, driving men on to madness and frightful deeds. His character clearly depicts that of alcohol.

The dynamic between enjoyment and pain in alcohol illustrates that it’s not possible to enjoy something without experiencing any resistance or limit. This leads to the conversation about two relationships: one between BTS and their audience, the other one between art and artists.

Comparing BTS to wine is pretty accurate. There is no need to say more about how much fun, joy or inspiration they can offer to their fans. And who are the ones that are the most drunk in BTS? While Dionysus has the maenads, BTS has us, ARMY. Our force and dedication for the artist is unstoppable to the point of madness.

All drink, drink, drink, drink my glass, ay

All fall, fall, fall for a mad artist

Still, one thing that needs to be noted is the opposite side of the situation, for as much as BTS offers immeasurable satisfaction and amusement, there can be a few drawbacks as well. This is an appropriate occasion to bring back “Pied Piper,” a critical and playful track about the negative effects of falling into the BTS loophole. It’s the same as getting drunk at a party knowing that you’re risking to be late or miss work the next day. In addition, too much dose of BTS can lead to excessive obsession and the loss of decency, the kind of behavior we see in sasaengs/stalkers.

Though I’m a bit dangerous, I’m too sweet

I came to rescue you, I came to ruin you

In this way, BTS has beneficial and destructive side. In them there exists the ability to generate enjoyment and pain like alcohol. And while the band is the best gift to those who appreciates them, they are also the industry’s worst nightmare.

BTS climbed their way up and succeed without any external help and cheating, which makes some people really mad so they are trying every way imaginable to undermine them. Some even enjoy doing it without realizing that in such a way they are somewhat addicted to the artist instead. Even this kind of obsession is still an indicator that those antis are being under the influence of the wine called BTS. After all, it has been said before that a hater in a way is a fan too. This highlights the fact that BTS needs not to fear or worry about antis because making people mad is Dionysus’ specialty. Without this characteristic, BTS cannot be like wine/the god of wine. Considering this, we may say that haters are not actually ruining BTS but making them who they are (by giving them the quality that constitutes their identity.) That’s one way to look at it.

I’m going to move on briefly to the relationship between art and its creators. Art to artists is the same thing as what BTS is to ARMY. It was already stated in the lyrics. The song clearly addressed the pain of creative process, for it’s not something that can be avoided.

Drink it up (the pain of creating)

One sip (the scolding of society)

Drink it up (the communication with myself)

One sip (Okay now I’m ready to sho)

For both artists and consumers, art indeed produces pleasure as well as comfort, but the agony that artists have to endure before they can create a work is tremendous. And isn’t that often pain itself is what gives birth to a work of art? Here I quote Herman Hesse’s Steppenwolf:

“Thus, like a precious, fleeting foam over the sea of suffering arise all those works of art, in which a single individual lifts himself for an hour so high above his personal destiny that his happiness shines like a star and appears to all who see it as something eternal and as a happiness of their own.”

The song itself is a proof to this statement. BTS have been through so much to reached where they are today, and thus “Dionysus” pays homage to their hardships. In a way, those difficulties are what enables them to fully cherish the value of their achievements and provides them with inspiration for their works.

All in all, the two cases associated with the theme of enjoyment and pain point towards the idea that joy and suffering can co-exist in one thing and cannot be separated. We’d better embrace this truth so that maybe we can profit from the two of them. This can be applied to several aspects in life as well.

PART 3 (END) - What the Song May be Telling Us

So, where do we go from here? Where do all of the topics I’ve mentioned above come together? As Map of The Soul: Persona refers to, according to Carl Jung’s theory, “the aspect of someone's character that is presented to or perceived by others,” Dionysus is a song that speaks about what can obviously be seen about BTS: the story about their success, their fans, the obstacles they face as an artist. These seem to belong to BTS’ persona.

Meanwhile, the song also lets us get a glimpse of more serious topics that might appear in the next comeback. There are clues to possible discussion about the bad side of their fame or the path they walk on, together with how they have or have not come to term with it. This might be the overall message of the upcoming album. BTS might also talk about how they identify themselves as an individual and as a superstar —the struggle to find a balance between being a god and being a human —or about the hidden negative part of themselves, as it was included in the definition of shadow.

It’s also interesting that Dionysus wasn’t called an outro, which may mean that the song is a kind of a transition into the next album. Because Map of The Soul is a journey into oneself, all parts in this series are connected to the same path. This track is like a checkpoint leading us to the next destination. And the whole series itself seems to be the representation of the self (That’s probably why we only have hints about persona, shadow and ego). Compared to the LOVE YOURSELF series, divided into parts with different themes and tones as it narrates a sequence of an event, each album from Map of the Soul is likely to be integrated into one big part, which I would say makes sense to me #.

#bts #dionysus #bangtan #bangta boys #bangtan universe #bts theory #bu theory #map of the soul: shadow #map of the soul : persona #map of the soul #mots shadow #mots persona

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shymeg · 4 years

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The Dare’s on All Hallows eve

23 and 58 please :) @dreamer757

23. “The house is not haunted.”

58. “Making out in a graveyard?”

The Dares on All Hallow EVE

Betty and Jughead's locker were nearby each other. Every year a dare was delivered to certain peoples lockers all 4 years it seemed that Jug and Betty got one. This year was no different.

Jughead's Dare was Go to the Old blossom Estate.

Betty's Dare, Go to Riverdale Cemetery and have a make-out session until Midnight, you must be there at eleven.

Betty didn't want to do her Dare. She felt it was disrespectful to the dead. Betty also felt saddened, knowing that she almost had to bury Jughead in one after his stupid savior moment. That her dad was in one. So was Fred Andrews. She and Jug missed Fred. He was indeed a father to both of them. Especially when everything was spiraling out of control. She had to put Archie in a coffin. So, she felt this was some cruel joke. To test her. Yet, she wasn't going to lose. It said, Make-out, and the best Make-out partner had to do his own Dare. Maybe, if she did it with him, he'd be more willing to go into the Cemetery. She figured he may have his demons when it came to her Dare. Yet, he'd never disappoint her.

"Jug," her voice was soft, almost so soft you almost couldn't hear it. He turned around to face her, scratching his head at what his Dare had said, "What's up, Betts?" She loved it when he called her Betts. Her eyes gleamed. "Do you want to do our Dare's together? The rules don't state we can't?"

He smiled the biggest grin, "sure, yours or mine first?"

She knew they'd have to do his since they were Halloween dares, so she said, "What is your's Juggie?"

she saw a tint of red, and his eyes got more prominent at the name, "Go to the old Blossom Estate."

oh great, that place was a burden to both her and Jug whoever gave out the Halloween Dares were genuinely trying to torment them.

"Alright, well, let's do yours first. I mean, we all know that isn't haunted."

Jug smiled and said, "Alright, well, let's get some flashlights, a backpack for food, and well warmer clothes."

Betty nodded and smiled as they went to their houses to get supplies. They agreed to meet at Pops at 6. She was secretly thrilled. She loved her boyfriend, and she knew he loved her. Yet, it was something so thrilling about these Dares. Why the Blossom Estate? Why the Graveyard? She knew it had nothing to do with Cheryl because Cheryl was two years older and had gone to college. The Estate was abandoned because Cheryl wanted nothing to do with her family name. Her Nana was living in Thistle house a little bit away from the Estate. Thistle house was like a manor, whereas the Blossom Estate was a Mansion. Cheryl's mother had died in the horrid fire, but yet the mansion still sits. The flames may have set ablaze, but the house never went under.

She smiled to herself, thinking maybe this is just another one to investigate for the Junior detective agency. Betty often wondered who chose the Dare's and why certain people got them and how come others didn't? Betty wondered how they would know if they even did the Dare? Were they lurking? Did people set it up like a spook house? In all her 4 years she never figured that out. This year she was almost tempted too. Yet, if she did that, would it ruin the fun and the thrill of doing the Dares?

She heard the bell ding, and she saw a slender figure with a beanie. Dressed in all black but luckily he was wearing his dad's winter jacket. The weather was always odd, especially at night. He got a burger and fries to go typical Jughead.

When Betty and Jughead went outside. She noticed that Jug's motorcycle was nowhere to be found. He must have walked here under the assumption that they would take Betty's car and probably not hit up Pop's after the last Dare. Jughead was correct, of course. Yet, he could have told her, and she would have picked him up. Yet, Jug might have thought that if she did that, he wouldn't get his food. Betty realized she had forgotten to tell Jughead what the last Dare was. She'd tell him later.

So, first up, Blossom Estate. Betty's car crawled up the drive. She gave Jughead one last look. He seems okay, but she knew his life was threatened by Clifford Blossom. His dad almost put away for a murder he honestly didn't do, yet covered up because of blackmail. She also knew that Jug and his father were having problems at the time, yet he loved Jug, and Jug loved him. The Blossoms and the Police tried to pin the murder on Jug first. Merely because he was being bullied by Jason and his cohorts was also hard for her to stomach. Yet, Fred came to Jughead's aide. The father figure that he was, and he knew Jug and knew that his second son would never commit murder and then try to figure out who did it.

She looked at Jug and said, "Are you ready?" "As ready as I'll be Betts." He gave her a wink. The last time they were in this house was for Jason's funeral, where they found out that Jason was going to marry Polly. They were supposed to have run away together.

Betty realized when she and Jug were investigating in Jason's old room. That she kind of might be liking Jug and seeing him in a different light. That he wasn't Archie's Shadow. That he was more sincere and always supported Betty and her endeavors. Yet, he was a scared- y cat because he hid behind her when Nana Rose entered the scene. She laughed. His blue eyes twinkled, he smirked and said, "What are you laughing at Cooper?"

"The last time we were here, how you got so scared of Nana Rose that you hid behind me!" he smiled, "I'd knew you'd protect me you always have."

They slowly went up the front steps. Jughead had his hand on the door. He opened it, and the door creaked. He stated, "Anybody home," no answer "Yeah I didn't think so" He took out the flashlight from his backpack and turned it on. Betty followed shortly after. The Estate looked like a tomb. A lot of it was burned, but most of it held up like a tomb. Furniture under clothes or sheet protectors, spider webs on the wall, dust everywhere, nothing was moved. Cheryl took nothing. Nana Rose already lived in Thistle house so, most of her more critical things weren't in this house anyway.

Jug decided to go into the kitchen. Betty laughed, thinking, of course, he would. Jughead just smirked at her, already knowing what she must be assuming. He opened it, and to his sorrow, there was no food in it, and the fridge was unplugged. Yet there was some wine. It sat out and had a ton of dust on it. He had to use his hands just to figure out what it was. He went to the closet, and all the food was gone, so Jughead chuckled, "Well, at least we knew Cheryl took the food out." Betty snorted because of Jug and his love for food. They went the back way upstairs. They heard a low creak. Neither one of them knew where it came from. both looked at each other Jug said, "Must just be the house settling." Yeah, that was it. The mansion was settling Betty, and Jughead heard a loud bang. They opened up the room nearest to them. Hoping something fell off the shelves. Jughead might have been slightly hoping for a random book to be in the house, and he could just borrow it and put it back at a later date. Yet, they could find nothing to explain the loud bang. So two Junior Detectives kept going. They heard footsteps this time. It seemed closer and another bang. Jughead looked at Betty, "I thought this house wasn't haunted?" Betty snickers, "That doesn't mean they didn't rig it to not scare us, Jug!" She laughed Jughead kissed her," Well, ghosts, you can have me, but you can't have my girl!"

Leave it to Jughead to say that. Betty thought. Her smile grew on her face, and she was afraid that one day, his little compliments like that wouldn't bring the same joy. Betty hoped that would never happen. She loved him, and she knew he loved her with all of his heart. He was the first one to say, I love you. Betty knew how hard it was for Jughead to say that. His dad was away, he had abandonment issues, he'd be going to South Side high for school and was he open, so open, more open then she'd ever seen him at that moment. Betty was shocked because she felt she'd be the first one and be lucky if she'd ever heard those words from Jughead. So at this moment here and now she said, "I love you Jug those ghosts can't have you either."

They decided to go look for the tape recorder or whatever they rigged it with. Yet, all Betty and Jughead found was mice poop, and Betty screamed when she saw a real mouse. She jumped into Jughead's arm, and he held her. Like he never wanted to let go. They searched that house for probably two hours. The Dare just said to go. No further instructions. Where her's was a little bit more specific.

Betty drove back to Pops, and they sat down to eat a Burger and had a few cups of coffee to warm up and grab a few to go for the graveyard. She forgot she was supposed to tell him her Dare once they left the Blossom Estate. Yet Jughead never asked. Jughead probably didn't ask her because Betty asked him if they could do it together. Meaning she felt safe with him. So now she blushed at the mere thought of him being scared of Nana Rose.

She did feel safe with him. He was her rock, her anchor. So, when she pulled into Riverdale Cemetery and saw his eyes flash for a second. She knew she should have prepared him. Yet, he simply said, "What are we doing here, Betty?" She looked down she couldn't face him, "My Dare Jug, is to make out in this Cemetery for an hour until Midnight. The only Make-out partner I want is you. I'm not going to let who is picking these dares ruin my Halloween, and you know me, Jug, I never back down from a challenge."

Jug just nodded, "Well let's go" He opened his car door slowly looking at the gate. He didn't like it here. Yet, he wouldn't have Betty making out with ghosts or to lose a dare because he refused to help the love of his life. So, he started it.

He kissed her slow at first right in front of the gate. She kissed gently back. His hand reached out to her chin. He kissed her harder, and she bit his lip. He wanted to say ow because it hurt a little. Yet, he liked this side of Betty and didn't want her to stop. He slowly moved his hand to brush her hair away, and he stopped kissing her mouth to simply blow in her ear and slowly nibble it. She made out this low mew, and he loved it. He moved down her neck kissing and licking, and when she tried to push away, he'd go back to her ear and nip at it. He knew she wanted her mouth on his mouth when she grabbed his hair. She pushed her mouth to his, and he felt a power surge, and his mouth opened to hers as their tongues began to fight. He could taste that caramel latte she chose to have instead of her typical hot chocolate. He wanted more, but unfortunately for him, he had to breathe. She pushed him down and straddled him. He was not used to this, Betty. Maybe a ghost had possessed her when her hands started lifting his shirt. She started playing with his nipples and licking them. They never tried this. He just really wanted to satisfy Betty, and if she was pleased, so was he this was different. It made him squirm.

Betty enjoyed Jughead squirming under her. She loved how her hands made his chest warm. That this boy had muscle that nobody could see but her. She wanted to make him happy too. Betty bit his neck and drew blood. Betty was becoming some sort of animal; her animal instincts were taking over. Betty didn't care. She kissed him, and she bit his lip until it bled. She apologized when she saw him wince.

She bowed down and let him kiss her with such passion, but when he tried to roll them over, she said, "No, Jug, this is my Dare."

She saw his eyes flicker at the moment. He relaxed and just let her take it. Yet she heard his plea, "I want to kiss you, Betty." She snickered, "I Know Jug, and when this Dare is over, I'll let you kiss me there, I promise. Until then, you only get my mouth and my neck, but I get all of you."

She liked this Betty. Betty even thinks Jughead likes it. Maybe not where she made him bleed per se but the other stuff.

She leaned down and whispered in his ear, "We have 30 minutes Mr. Jones, and for those 30 minutes, you are all mine." She rolled her hips into him slowly, so he grunted because he wasn't getting the friction he needed. She was-being evil. She knew this, but she'd make it up to him. She just couldn't do that deed here. So all they were going to do was Make-out, so she gave him something to be mad about so when they got back to her place. Her mom always being gone. That he'd pound into her with no mercy. He'd make her scream and shout and beg for more. Until then, he'd live with the slow torture of not being able to get off either. While making his half-hour a slow fate.

She kissed him passionately, she played with him, Betty held Jug's hair as tightly as possible when he tried to get more than she was willing to give. She loved him, and she knew this was torture, but he complained very little. He respected the dead. So, he huffed a few times. He cried out, Betty. Even Please. She loved it when he said that. For that, he got kissed hard, and she twisted his nipples, and she blew on them a little harder.

She loved the taste of his mouth, sweet and oh so tangy. She could devour him like he does those cheeseburgers. The last kiss was gentle and slow, letting him know the torture of the make-out session was almost over.

So when the real one happened, it would probably last more than an hour switching different positions, and god how she wanted him. How she knew he wanted her. She apologized for the lack of the more risque make out session. Yet, she knew he'd understood.

She helped him up, she looked at him and kissed him slow, "Ready to go to my house, Jug?"

"Yes, I am," he smiled.

He looked at her and said, "Let the bewitching hour began. Happy Saints day Betty."

The onlookers figured maybe Betty had figured them out, and that's why nothing truly risque happened in the Cemetery. No real exposure. They couldn't get anything. She was to smart for them or just too respectful. Either way, this was their last year, and Jughead and Betty had both survived unscathed by the Dare police.

#bughead fandom #bughead #bughead fanfiction #bughead fanfic #halloween prompts #bughead halloween prompts #jughead jones #betty cooper #@dreamer757 #sorry I tried #my writing #bughead halloween #Dares on All Hallows Eve

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porrimalovesstories · 4 years

Text

A Love Story

Dedicated to @taylorswift, @taylors-flutterby, @cruelafterglow, @swiftonic13, @joealwyndaily

Special thanks to @maybeillride (Bless your soul, girl!. I love you!)

Her Songs:

@taylorswift, “Call It What You Want”, “Dress”. “I Think He Knows”

Dusty Springfield, “The Look Of Love”,

Depeche Mode, “Home”,

Rihanna ft. Mikky Ekko, “Stay”

His songs,

@taylorswift, “Cruel Summer”,

Roberta Flack, “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face”,

Herb Alpert, “This Guy’s In Love With You”,

Rihanna ft. Mikky Ekko, “Stay”

Part Two: Her Story

He knew.

Standing there, with the door half-open, one hand at the frame of the door, the other on his hip, he looked at her. His eyes were soft and warm. She did not have to ask if she may come in, he simply opened the door wider.

He shook Mr. Allen's hand. Those two men looked at each other. No smile or any gesture necessary. The glinting lights in their eyes told her, they understood each other.

Mr Allen, her head of security, had always been very careful with everything around her. However, since spending a week together week in Vesterbro Mr. Allen seemed to have been in ease every time she was with him. “Your security is my priority, Miss,” Mr. Allen said when she asked him once. “I can see it is Mr. London's priority, too.”

Mr. London, that was his code name. A name she had given him in jest after he had called her Tennessee. It was not after the city, but after Tennessee Williams, his favorite writer. The name she gave him was after her favorite writer, Jack London; although he had thought she called him London after the city with its big Ben (the twinkles in his eyes had turned her cheeks red that day). She bit her lower lip to stop herself from grinning. Who would guess that this proper English boy had such dirty jokes?

Her head of security nodded when she said he did not need to stay. After saying good night, Mr. Allen left.

She entered the room and looked around. His hotel room was tidy and almost empty. A normal standard hotel furniture occupied the space. A desk with a chair, a cupboard beside the bathroom door, and two lamps on the night desks beside the bed. There was nothing personal there, except his duffel bags and two books on the left nightstand. It must have been the side where he slept. On the bottom was his favorite book of Tennessee Williams' play, A Sweet Bird Of Youth (“I saw the movie starred by Paul Newman,” she told him once. “I love it!”). On the top was a blue book. Its spine said, The Iron Heel, Jack London. She smiled. She had given that book as a farewell present in July. She knew by heart what she had written on the front page, Don't let me be a Meredith of any story, spoiling every chance of joy. Tennessee (TNS)

For a rising star, the one who took Hollywood by a storm (as Variety probably would describe him), his hotel room was a far cry from a diva. She knew some 'rising stars' or the 'stars' themselves who had crazy demands when it came to hotel rooms. Big space, big plasma tv, various of beverage at the corner....obviously not this one. “You,” she turned around, “sleep here? I thought you would have a penthouse or something.”

He closed the door and asked if he should hang her coat.

She took off her long black coat, revealing her colorful sequin jacket and red dress she wore under it.

He looked at her with squinting eyes. Clearly he wanted to say something about her outfit, but then as if he had told himself, well, what can I say, it’s her, he rolled a smile. “I like it here. Come, I'll show you.” He reached out his hand.

She took it. A strange feeling crept as their hands touched each other... what is this feeling, she thought. It was not peace, because her heartbeat certainly paced faster. It was also not chaos, because if it was, why did she feel so calm?

He opened the sliding door to the balcony. A cool wind blew, playing her hair for a while, before finally passed away.

She thought she would hear the typical New York sound, the cars' horn, the police sirens, the buzzing, bubbling sound of music, footsteps and conversation of people. But no. It was quiet. Only the wind rustled the trees somewhere down below.

“This is cool!” she said.

“It is, isn't it?”

“Oh, I can see my apartment from here!” she pointed to the left. “You see that building over there?”

He followed the direction. “The red one?”

She nodded. “My apartment is beside the red one. I love that apartment. You should see the rare terrace, it is quite huge and you can see the Washington Park from there.”

“Really?” he smiled. “I would love to see it.”

“It is connected to my bedroom...,” those words slipped out and she could not take back.

Their eyes met. Those blue eyes twinkled. He did not have to say it, but she could hear it. Questions such as, is that an invitation?

No, not him. He was too polite for asking that kind of question.

“Why are you here?” his voice was low, as if he had known, that question was exactly the one she could not answer.

Why was she here? In a hotel room of a man, whom she barely knew, and yet, he had seemed to understand her?

Why was she here, when she could have flown back to her home, trying to find comfort in Momma's arms, in Daddy's understanding, or even her little brother's anger?

Why was she here, standing on a balcony, watching her apartment from a distant... when she could have been there inside, finding security in four walls, created by her manager, her security guards, her friends?

Why was she here?

Since he was in the city a week ago, they had been calling each other every day. He told her about his day: either having interviews or talking to some people in the industry or simply hanging around at the hotel. She told him about her day, which involved mostly pacing, thinking, staring into the air while sitting at the piano, sleeping...

She had yet another relationship fallen apart. She tried to find reasons, excuses, explanation.... whatever, to make her understand why everything had somehow derailed, crumbled down just like pieces of a much too much dry cake. Was everything too fast? Too public? Too many wishes, but too little time? And among those questions, in the midst of that chaos, one thing had been always constant: the memories of the time they spent together for a week at the Georgia's rented house in Vesterbro. When nothing had seemed to matter. Just a quiet time between them, talking about books, music, walking around at the park. For just a moment, she could forget about everything and enjoy the time without having the feeling that she had to do something.

She looked at him. Those eyes were no longer soft. They were sharp, so sharp, their colors turned to icy blue.

She cleared her throat. “You might read or hear something about me tomorrow. You know how fast gossips and trash talking travel in our line of business.”

As if he had not heard or cared about it, that face did not show any reaction.

She forced herself to continue, “You might hear that I lied about some certain event that involved that loud mouthed piece of...,” her body started shaking. She hated this. She hated talking about people, who instead of asking directly to her, loved talking about her on the media, telling the world about their own version of truth.

She hated wasting her time and energy to talk about people, who basically did not want to listen. What good would it be, explaining things, if they had already made up their minds?

He reached out his hand, she moved backward.

“I don't need your sympathy,” she said. “I don't need to be saved.”

“No, you are right. You don't need to be saved or protected, because you are brave and strong enough to face anything that comes to your way,” that hand was still up in the air between them. “I just want to tell you, you can take me wherever you want to go.”

Her eyes were suddenly heavy. “Really?” she heard herself choking. She did not want to talk anymore, because she knew, any louder, she would break down and cry. “Why do you think I want to go?”

“Because that's what I would do. I would leave everything behind, to go somewhere, away from all this and try to concentrate on things that matter to me.”

“You would leave the fame and the glory?”

“Hell, yeah,” those eyes were still sharp, but no longer icy. “I don't need all these fame and glory,” dimples appeared as he smiled. “I want to continue working, doing something that I love, making the works of great men and women into reality. Of course, I want people to appreciate my work, to know my name through my works.

“Who I really am, on the other hand, I will only share with those I care about and love. I will listen to their opinions, their advises, their fear and their concerns. Other than that... hey, does it really matter if those we don't know or care are making a scene?”

“You know what they say about me?” she bit her lips hard to prevent her tears from falling. “Stay away from her. She would poison your well, ruin your career, she would write a song and drag you through the mud....”

“Really, Tennessee, does it really matter...? You are not the first song writer who do it, and won't be the last one either. Yeah, you wrote songs about your experiences, so what?”

She raised her face.

“You don't care?”

“Would you be here, if I did? I could leave and go back home, and meet my mates and have a good time; but instead, I stay here; holding on to a hope or you can call it a wish if you want, that you would return from Australia soon enough. Fool's hope, my mates would tell me.” he looked at her. Those eyes shone brightly, so brightly, she swore they could replace the glitters on her stage wardrobe. “Is it?”

The tears rolled down on her cheek. No, it was not a fool's hope. If there was a fool between them, then it would be her. Playing a game of cat and mouse, knowing perfectly well, he knew what she felt. Knowing perfectly well, that under those cool attitude and the quiet almost shy manner, he tried to steal a look at any chance they were at the same event. It was even some games they played. They would stand across the room, far from each other, and steal a look. She loved how he cracked a smile, when he caught her stealing a look from him. Most of all, she loved how he would quietly observe her from a distant with a look that made her knees weak from imaginations what they would do when they were alone.

Now, they were alone. His hand was still up in the air. If she took that hand, would they do what she had imagined?

“You want to know why I am here?”

He nodded.

“One of the news you will hear tomorrow; some might say I was dumped, some might say I was the one who broke up the relationship. Yes. I am single, now. You might not want to know the reason...,”

“I do,” he cut her sentence. “I will be probably hearing the worst thing ever,” the yellowish light from the lamp at the corner that fell on his grin made that face look sinister, as if the devil had taken him over, “...but I will take my chances.”

Who is this man? She thought, how can he look all innocent in one second and become devil incarnate in the next one?

“It's... because I like you,” finally the words that had been hanging on her mind were now out. Almost like a whisper.

“Come again?” there was a smile in that question.

She looked at him. Yes, he was smiling. His eyes grew smaller, and all the sparkles disappeared, as if they had been swallowed by the lines around his eyes. And that devilish grin was not exactly leaving him. “I like you,” she braved herself to speak louder. “I know you like me, too.”

His hand was still up on the air. Damn, all his theater training must have strengthened his muscles somehow to be able to hold that position in such a long time.

She decided to take his hand.

With one hand, he pulled her close to him and with the other hand he opened the sliding door. As soon as they were inside, he pushed her gently against the wall. His breaths were hot as his face was closer.

“Wait,” she put her hand on his chest. “Do you ever think the risk of being with me? For your career, your reputation... your health?”

He caressed her cheek; his body was pressed against hers. She could feel his heat, slowly creep on hers. She swore, she could feel his heartbeat become faster and faster. “Can we stop this game?”

“What game?” she raised her face. Jesus, how much she wanted to kiss those lips.... the lips, that were now hovering above hers.

“This one, which we are pretending that all we want to do is talking,” he moved his head to direction where his bed was. “And the other ones, the ones where we pretended that you and I were each other secrets and giving each other cold shoulders on public, when what we wanted is...” he moved even closer. Their bodies were now glued to each other. That body heat was no longer creeping, it was spreading. Her breaths became shorter and faster; her hand, which was on his chest, was now shaking from her own lust. “I'll take you as you are...”

“Even with everything that haunts and fills my life, with or without my will?”

“Everything,” then he kissed her.

At first, she thought, it would be gently. Since his whole attitude was calm and demeanor. But boy, oh how wrong she was. He took her lower lip, suck it, and a moment later, his tongue searched for hers, and suck it as well. Strongly. She could not do anything else, but hold on tightly around his neck.

When he let her go, she was shaking. Catching her breaths, she asked, “Including what they wrote about me?”

“I don't read that kind of stuff,” suddenly he took some steps away. His eyes, sparkled under the dimmed light, stared her up from her head down to her toe.

It was neither the first time somebody looked at her like that nor was that somebody looked at her with eye of admiration, either. She saw it almost at every concert she had. She swore, with every photo she took, with every move she made during the concert, there was nothing on her that could be called new.

But here he was, looking at her, as if she had been somebody he had never seen before. As if he had found something new, something he wanted to explore. Those sparkling blue eyes changed into a color she never had seen before. There was a shade of green in that blue. Was that what Georgia meant when she said, that his eyes turned into deep cerulean almost water blue when he looked at her?

She did not know. All she knew, that color, that look reminded her to the color of the sea at the late afternoon, when she walked on the beach in front of her house. She swore she could almost hear the sound of the waves racing to the beach only to be broken at her feet. She loved watching the sun set at the edge of the sea, spraying the purple, pink, yellow orange color all over the horizon. She loved being there, away from the brightness of the spot light, the sharpness of the camera blitz that followed her anywhere she went, and the screaming of people, calling out her name.

But there, at the beach, surrounded by the deep cerulean blue color of water, just for the moment, she could be that girl, that unknown, unkempt girl, struggling to understand the notes, the harmony and the sound of music. To be free from all the trash, the toxic words that were labeled to be hers, even though she had never heard them.

All those liars, those blood suckers, those free loaders... grabbed her feet, dragged her, suffocated her...made her want to be away, away from all of those.... away from New York, and back to that very beach. To hear it wailing, to feel the coldness of its water....

One look, and it all came to her. Those eyes, those deep blue color of ocean eyes.... they took her to that very special place of her.... and made her feel like she is that thirteen year old unkempt girl....

Without being able to hold herself any longer, she cried uncontrollably.

“Baby....,” she heard his voice, awkwardly calling. “Baby.....”

She felt his arms surround her, holding her tight. His chin touched her neck. Rough, unshaven. He must have let his face free from any cosmetic when he did not work. But she did not care. For the first time in a long time, she did not care about anything. Not the hard floor under her feet, not this blood red dress Elie Saab had given her the other day, which definitely would be wet from tears (why she had decided to wear this new dress, one of Elie's latest collection which was not even in the market to see him, she had no idea), not even what would happen if one of those hyenas of press found out that she was here, in a hotel room of a man, a fresh face in Hollywood while she was still dating with another man from Hollywood....

Nothing seemed to matter now. All those news she had received from her manager became a meaningless background noise. Blur and nonsensical.

He whispered her name. Softly, as if he had been afraid any sound but her cry would separate her from his tender body, from his strong but gentle hug and yet at the same time, as if he had wanted to tell her that she was not alone.

She did not know how long they were sitting on the floor. She also did not know how long she was in his arms. When she was able to pull herself back together, she turned around, facing him.

He wiped the rest of the tears on her cheeks, kissed them one by one.

“What's that for?” she asked, still sobbing.

“Because you had a rough day,” his eyes now looked calm. Still with that cerulean shade of blue, but calmer. “...it is also the way I am telling you, you are going to be alright. Because if there is somebody who can win a fight, it will be you.”

“How can you be so sure? You don't even know me....”

He kissed her hands. “You are right, I don't know you, at least not as well as I want to. These three months time is not enough. Not for me, not for you or anybody to know somebody. But if this person, whom I know in this short space of time, is whom I think she is, then, yes, I believe she will win this battle.

You reach your position by your own hard work. Days of labour and dedication. Nobody can take that away from you, no matter what they do. You will make yourself ready to your combat. You will arm yourself with your passion, your sense of value, and your kindness....oh yes,” he nodded, when he saw her shaking his head. “You are one of the kindest celebrities I have ever known.”

“Celebrities....,” she sighed. “I hate that word.”

“So do I. I don't understand any of it, but hey, there are people, who become the talk of the media or internet, not because they have achieved something, but because of their personage. I prefer if people talk about my works, but hey, I can't really force them to do, can I?

“But you, Darling... you care about your fans. You spend time and money for your fans. Your dedication to your art is as much as to your fans. They can relate to your songs, because you tell something real. Something that happened in your life. And that's rare.

“They will stand by you.

“Your family and friends will stand by you.

“And what the people say on the internet, really, Darling, does it really matter what the people you don't know say about you? Are you going to tell me, that you try to please a faceless figure on the street, because they say something about you?

“As far as I concern, there are two buttons on every comment feature. On and Off. All you have to do is choose.”

“I am not as strong as you think I am.”

He pressed her hands. Those cerulean blue eyes narrowed, and yet their lights seemed to be even brighter. “Oh, I think you are stronger than I think you are.”

She swallowed her sob. “I think I will need a Kleenex.”

“You will need a box of it. And coffee. Or do you prefer tea?”

“If you order me some hibiscus tea, I'll jump off from the balcony.”

“Oh, you are so overly dramatic,” he laughed. “That means, you feel better. I'll order you some coffee.”

She was on the balcony as the room service came with a cart. He did not want her to be in the room; it would be better if her presence was unknown. Instead of her rainbow colored sequin jacket, he had also insisted that she wore his black shearling jacket to cover her red dress. “Your jacket is too sparkly, one additional color, and you will turn into a vampire,” he mocked her. “Twihard.” she mocked him back. He grinned. “Is that supposed to be an insult?” Her jacket was now hanged behind the door.

Somehow, his attention to details was sweet.

The wind blew a bit strongly as the door slid open.

“A bit chilly, isn't it?”

“This is New York,” she rubbed her arms. “And fall is near.”

His eyes narrowed. She could see his brain working, trying to figure out if he should take her words literally or metaphorically. “You want to have the coffee here or in the room?” Obviously, he had decided to keep the question for himself.

“Here.”

“Okay,” he went inside. “How do you want your coffee?”

“Black.”

He returned with two cups. One for her, one for him. From its smell, she could tell, it was tea. What is it this time, she wondered. Peppermint tea or that horrible hibiscus tea? How could somebody drink that colored water was a mystery to her.

“Nice jacket, very smooth.” she touched the jacket's surface. “Valentino?” she pretended not to know. She knew, he wore the same jacket for the campaign for Dior. Georiga had showed her some photos from her photographer friend.

“I love that jacket,” he leaned on the rail, sipping his tea.“Very comfortable for long distant flights. It's a present from the Dior last shooting.”

“So I heard.”

“So you heard?”

She sipped the coffee. Mumbling she said, “Icheckedonyouontheinternet,”

“Excuse me?”

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Oh, shut up!”

“What?”

She looked at him. Yep. He was grinning from one ear to another. She hated when he did that. It made him looked even more... what was the word to describe it... that attitude, as if he had known things without being told... and the look on his face when he did it... ah, beautiful was not exactly the word she was looking for.

She turned away. From the distant the city lights flickered like thousands of stars at the dark sky. She used to like standing at her rear terrace, and watched those lights, listened to the buzzing sounds of the city's night life.

But now, she preferred this sound of quietness. Nothing, only the sounds of the wind between the leaves and crickets, somewhere at the ground.

She leaned on his chest, as she felt his arms around her. His hands were warm from his tea cup.

There they were, standing on a balcony. She was in his arms drinking her coffee, while he was holding her tight, and from time to time kissing her hair. She felt the cool wind brushing her face, playing with her hair; she could hear the sound of his soft breaths; she knew, the warmth came from the shearling, but she could swore, it was his body heat that slowly burned her own body.

She told herself long time ago, that she would not care about what the people said to her. She always believed that truth would come out eventually. But in the era of social media, it is hard to comb and separate between the truths, the half-truths and the lies. She had been terrified to open any of her social account's direct messages, because she was afraid she would read harmful things, not only about her but also about Momma.

What if, what if the things they said about her – her reputation – became a weapon, a knife that ended her? What if, what if it became something that prevented her or anybody to see the facts? How to swim among shits without ending up dirty and stinky?

She looked at him. What if, what if her reputation was big enough, dirty enough, that made him unable to see through and find that unkempt girl?

He held her tighter, the cup in her hand rattled. “Stop,” he whispered. “Stop thinking for me and ask.”

“Ask what?”

“Whatever questions you have about me.”

“You might not like it.”

“Try me.”

She took a deep breaths. So it goes, she thought.“You must have heard about me...do you... have you... ever pictured me...drawing me from bits and pieces from what the media and people said about me?”

“Yes, I have.”

“And?”

“It is difficult to work in this business without hearing anything about you,” his voice sounded deeper than usual, “well, obviously, I never thought I had ever a chance to get to know you,” he chuckled. “I never even thought I would be where I am so fast either. You, the image of you to be precise, are as unreal as my own career trajectory.

“I won't let you alone, man. That's what Rhett told me as I showed him the invitation to the MET party. It will be fun, it will be fun.

“I never feel comfortable, really, to be at that kind of parties. Well, any kind of party, honestly. Especially not a kind of party, which every pair of eyes are on you. But I told myself, it was a part of work. Like Rhett said, smile for the photographers, go inside and get mingle. If I don't like it, simply sit somewhere and have some drinks. Not too much, otherwise I would look like an ass, who got drunken during office's Christmas party. But not too few either, or people would see me as a party killer. Somewhere in between, man. Somewhere in between.

“I followed his advice. Going where he went, shaking hands, those he shook. After a while, I felt more comfortable with myself. Rhett gave me a wink and said that it was about the time that I conquered the party. You'll be fine, man. Look around. Everybody wants to have a piece of you.

“That's when I saw you. Even in the dark, I could see people... quoting Rhett, 'want to have a piece of you'. You were surrounded by so many people, I lost count. Your whole attire, your hair, your metallic outfit... I don't know, somehow you look...combatant. Battle ready. Excuse me for my choices of word. I had just finished making a war movie...let's just say, some expression stayed.

“Then you looked at me. I was froze. The whole room seemed to have frozen; faces disappearing, voices fading. Just you. Until a familiar voice called out my name. Kay. She introduced me to her girlfriend. Oh, I want you to meet my friend, she told me, while dragging me. I looked around, you were nowhere to be found. She brought me to a room, which full of statues and artifacts I was not sure if they were Romans or Greeks...,”

“Both,” she cut his stories. “It was the Roman and Greek Art Hall.”

“Yeah. You were standing in front of something blue. I still remember as if it was yesterday. The pale blue light that hit your face reminded me to the color of sky in London in the good summer days. I can tell you, it doesn't happen as often as I want it to. We normally have gray sky through the year, but now and then we get to see blue color at the horizon.

During those days, I love waking up early in the morning and simply watch the sun rises. You can see slowly the misty air go away, and shimmering lights at the horizon will cover the sky in pale blue color. That is the time I can be with myself, you know, a moment of clarity, where everything make sense.

“But you, Darling, you seemed to have been deep in your thought; and I suddenly regretted that I was there. I felt as if I was intruding your most intimate moment. So I stood there, watching you, not dared to make any noise that might startle you.

“Some people came to you, said hello, you greeted back and smiled. But you didn't actually smile. Yeah, you looked at them, but you saw pass right through them. At that moment I said to myself, one day... one day, I will see her smile.”

She put the cup on the balcony railings and held his hand tight. Yes, she remembered that night. The night, she realized now, as the beginning of the down spiral of her life. Everything seemed to have gone wrong afterward. Her ex who did not want to admit her works, people, whom she thought her friends, stabbed her on the back. She could not leave the house without being swarmed around by paparazzi; she could not go on-line without reading tons of comments. She had felt isolated, she had felt witch hunted. She felt it still.

If she was honest, nothing stayed in her memory from that gala. Everything seemed blur now. She did not even know why she had decided to dance and make a scene like that. Had she been angry? Had it been a calculating move to get away from her relationship?

She did not remember anymore.

One thing she learned from all those dramas (as Momma would put it), was she had to take her life back. Not everything was for a public consumption. She had got to have a part of life, no matter how tiny it was, as hers and hers alone.

So when Georgia called from Europe asked her to come to accompany her for some days, she agreed. Georgia wanted to introduce her to the latest Hollywood edition – that was how she called him – made in London.

She was up to her neck with everything that was going on in her life, she was not that keen to get to know anybody. However, some days away from the blitz and the buzz of show business life would not harm anybody, as her little brother put it.

She almost locked herself up in the room, as she heard his laughter. Such warm and heartfelt laughter to Georgia’s already thousand times told jokes. She watched them for a distant, how much they enjoyed each other company. Had she not known Georgia, she would have thought they were two lovers.

Then their eyes met. A rolled smile at the corner of his mouth and flickering lights in his blue eyes, and like in a love story, she felt her heart skip a beat. At that very moment, she knew.

Here they were now. Standing on a balcony, watching the Empire State Building glimmering in the night, wrapped in each other arm.

“Let's get in,” his voice croaked. The soft kiss on her hair felt like a touch of fire.

She released herself from his hug gently, and then put her hand on the back of his neck and gently pushed his head down. Oh, what is this game they are playing... knowing and yet not acting upon it...

His warm and tender lips caressed hers, but only for a while. For he then was back to where he had been, kissing her passionately.

“London,” she sighed between his kisses, almost begging. “London, not here...” She knew, if he continued, she would not be able to stop neither of them.

Groaning, he stopped his kisses. Almost pulling her, he grabbed her hand, opened the sliding door, and pressed her against it as soon as they were inside. Impatiently, he opened the shearling jacket and threw it somewhere. With the same impatience, he went down, pressing his long fingers on her dress. The sheer silky material did not protect her from his finger nails, made her shrieking, both in pain and pleasure. She grabbed the door frames, trying to stop her body from shaking.

As his hands were on her knees, he looked up. There was a mix between lust and pleading on that face. He did not have to say, she knew what he wanted to do. She nodded.

His hands were shaken, slowly touching her thighs, lifting the dress. He kissed the inner part of the thighs and sometimes sniffed, which she could only think as his way of absorbing her sense. The lust clouded her so much, it almost blinded her. As he reached the silky fabric of her underwear, he looked at her again.

Oh, fuck...she sighed. Just do it! But she said, more moaning than anything else, “Yes, oh God, yes!”

That face, whose eyes flickered like the sky on the fourth of July, was disappeared under her red dress. She felt her grab on the door frame weakened as her heartbeat was racing faster. She felt his lips, caressing, sucking; she heard the noises his kisses made; she felt the sharpness of his teeth which made her let out some cries... all circled around in her head, pushing and blurring her thoughts until there was nothing left, but the noises they were making. She felt his finger nails buried on her ass, as he lifted her right before he buried his face again and sucked her so hard, she felt as if her whole body had been absorbed by his mouth. Everything turned faster and faster; she swore her heart had jumped out of her chest and had a life of its own.... “Slow down...,” she was out of breath. “... slow down.... I can't stop it....”

He lifted his head. Licking his lips, he grinned. “Then, don't.” With that, his face disappeared again.

Fuck, she wiped her face, as the sound of his kisses filled up the air again. Oh, fuck.... she grabbed his shoulder. “Oh, Fuck!” she let out a cry.

Everything seemed to have come so abruptly. Fuck..., she thought...oh, fuck... She put her hand on her chest, trying to catch her breaths. Oh fuck....

Emerging from under her dress, slowly he raised his body. He was also out of breath. “I never thought you taste this good, T...”

She threw herself in his arms, and kissed him. His mouth tasted of a mixture between peppermint and something salty. It must have been hers. He answered her kiss, and soon enough, she felt his kisses everywhere. She swore, he must have had thousands hands and lips that nothing seemed to have been escaped from his touch or his kisses.

Frantically and impatiently they got undressed, threw away their clothes without looking. He even jumped around swearing, as he removed his shoes.

On the bed, as she thought he would be a little bit gentle, he continued kissing and touching her as if he had waited this moment for a long time, and he could not bear any second longer not to do it. He also bit. On her lower lip, on her shoulder, on her arms... She screamed as she felt his teeth on her nipple. “Shh,” he lifted his head, grinning like a cat seeing a fish (she knew definitely how a cat grinned, she had two of them!), “you will wake up the whole neighborhood!”

Probably.

Probably they even would knock down the door.

Probably they would even bring the press with them.

“Hey, hey, hey...” suddenly those big blue eyes looked straight at her. He smiled reassuring. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah...” she forced herself to smile. She combed his hair and kissed him. But the thoughts did not exactly go away. What if somebody knew? What if they leaked it to the press? Another breakup song, another sketchy lyrics...

No, she could not do this.

“Okay,” he rolled himself down, realizing that the magic was gone. He sniffed. “Okay.”

She did not know what he was agreeing with, but she knew he was disappointed. “I am sorry,” she looked at the ceiling. Its pale green color looked so pathetic. Its designer needed to be fired. God, how could she think about redecorating when beside her was a man laying, naked, hot and ready?! She threw her gaze to his body. He was not so muscly, but toned. His chest was smooth; his stomach was flat. His erection, which she had felt before, was not yet disappeared. It was there, waiting for her to touch it, to do something about it.... and somehow it was beautiful.

She looked at him. He was looking at the ceiling.

“I always wonder,” he rubbed the corner of his left eye. “From where do you get the inspiration to write such songs? Is it from situation like this?”

“What? On the bed, with a man, in a small hotel somewhere in New York...?”

“No,” his head was towards her. “Well, sort of. Not exactly like this...” She could see his brains were working to avoid any trap. Somehow she enjoyed watching it. And he knew it. How did he seem to know whatever she was thinking? Because he then sprung on her, and tickled her.

She laughed and tried to get away from him, protesting, trying to tell him she is very ticklish, but it was useless. He pinned her down, and continued tickling her, no matter how loud she begged him to stop. Then, those touches changed as the more often their bodies rubbed each other. She could feel her heartbeat race again. Those long fingers then changed into claws, or they seemed to be, as his hands squeezed, touched her body and scratched her skin. The only time he stopped was when he frantically searched for something in the nightstand's drawers. He did not even let her hand go, as he tore apart the package of a blue Durex with his teeth.

Her laughter changed into moan, and her now free hands did not fight him off, but held on tight onto his back. She buried her fingers onto it, as he slowly entered in her. With one look, he moved his body up and down seeming to follow a rhythm that which was not there, but she also could hear. That look fixed on her, burning her in lust with the flaming desires, while he moved faster and faster. In her head she could hear some melody that sent shivers down to her spines. She wrapped her legs around him. No, she did not want to let him go. She would never let him go. And for the first time since that end of July, when they had been officially introduced to each other, she called out his real name.

The alarm clock woke her up without warning. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was his chest. Seeing up and close like this, she could see the soft blond hair covering some part of his chest. Gently she pulled some of them.

“Morning,” his voice cracked. A smile lightened up that tired but content face.

“What time is it?”

“Seven a.m.”

“Damn, do you always wake up this early?”

“It depends on the time difference between London and wherever I am.”

“Why is that?”

“I promise my little brother to call him...oh, around noon...”

Little brothers....ah, she could not really complain about her own little brother. He had been her protector, her supporter, her nerves grating....

She got up. She had forgotten to call Momma last night. In fact, she had turned off her phone before she entered the hotel. Oh, no. Momma must have been worried not to hear anything from her.... where was her phone...

A soft touch on her back splashed her thought bubble.

“Gosh, you're so beautiful. Come here,” he spread his arms. “I want to make sure that I was not in a dream.”

Or a nightmare, she was about to say, but she lay down and let herself being cuddled.

He kissed her forehead and soon enough, he kissed her mouth. “I am obviously not,” he smiled. His finger followed the line of her shoulder.

She was not sure if it was a come-back from her thoughts or a continuity of his sentence.

“Would you stay? Could you...?”

Somebody wanted her to stay, considering the circumstances now, somehow it was sweet. She sighed. “Don't you have any agenda today?”

“I have some days off before the photo shooting. I would love to get to know New York with you as my guide. I'll be your guide if you visit London. You will see I am quite a good guide.”

“Where will you take me?”

“First place? My favourite pub: The Mean Jug. You can get some mean pints there, and you can meet my mates. We like hanging around there. You know, doing some stuffs (No, she didn't; but she didn't want to interrupt) Then, we can do what the normal tourists do, take a cab ride....,” he went on about exploring London, mentioning names, which sounded like exotic places. How would they be able to do it, she wondered?

“You are not listening,” he stopped abruptly.

Sorry, she mouthed. “But how would we do it? My face is not exactly unknown.”

He snorted. “That is an understatement of the year. You can't even breathe without causing mass hysteria,” there was definitely a mocking smile in his voice. “But there are wigs, scarfs and hats for something, aren't they? I mean, look at you now, sneaking up from your apartment to come here.”

“You mean like 'undercover'?”

He laughed. “Yeah. Like Rhett said,” imitating Rhett's Texas growl, he continued, “It will be fun, it will be fun.”

Yeah, she would like to have that. A little taste of normality. Walking around a town without a horde of people followed her around. But would wearing wigs, hats and scarfs be able to be labeled as 'normality'?

“I love doing this, laying on the bed doing nothing with you, well, doing something with you on the bed would be better,” there was a very naughty smile on his face, “but my brother waits for his call.”

“Yeah, I have to call Momma, too.”

“But think about it, right?”

Going to London? The last time she had visited London, it was more a circus than anything else. She sighed. Maybe. She could not promise.

Notification tone rang as soon as he turned on his phone. “Wow,” he said. “My agent has been trying to reach me since last night,” he looked at her. “You want to have some breakfast or just coffee?”

“Coffee,” she wrapped the blanket on her and got down from the bed and a bit shocked to see the condition of the room. Their clothes were scattered all over the place. The shearling jacket was near the sliding door, his jeans were on the foot of the bed, her red dress was near the canopy, and not so far from where he was standing in his black boxers was his t-shirt. Their shoes were all over the room. She was terrifying to imagine where her underwear was.

What the fuck had they done last night?

As if he wanted to say, 'and?', he shrugged as their eyes met. “Hi, Tiger...,” his voice was soft. He must have been talking to his little brother.

She took her phone out of her bag and turned it on. A never ending notification signal filled the room. Sorry, she mouthed. She decided not to open any of them. Momma, she had to call Momma.

“Hi, Sweetie,” Momma's voice soothed her ears. “Where are you? Your brother tried to reach you the whole night.”

She looked at him. “I am alright, Momma. I am with a friend.” A smile appeared on his face, as she said it. “Is he with you?”

“No, Sweetie. I am at home. He flew to you last night. Talk to him, alright? You know, how Mr. Allen is. He doesn't want to tell us anything. Your brother is worried. It looks like the news will hit the counter today.”

“Yes, Momma.”

“Are you sure you are alright, Sweetie?”

“Yes, Momma. Don't worry, Momma. I might stay awhile with my friend,” she avoided using the gender pronounce. The last thing she wanted to do was to make Momma more worried, knowing that she had spent a night with a man at time when hating her publicly seemed to have become a national sport.“Tell everybody I might be off grid for today.”

“You know you can't do that, Pumpkin. At least your brother needs to know.”

Obviously, she could not refuse. Who could refuse if Momma started 'pumpkin' her?

“A friend, eh?” he grinned as she hanged up.

“Yep, definitely,” she grinned back.

“I wonder how our hotel room will look like, if I am already out of the friend zone...,”

“...ah, you notice, eh?” she rolled her eyes. “I need to call my brother, but first, I will need some shower and coffee. Some strong ones. That little bandit always can tell if I am alone or not. I don't want him to know where I am, at least not now. Without coffee, I am a mess and then he will definitely know.”

“I'll order some breakfast.”

She was under the water, when she heard somebody knocking. Is the room service already there, she wondered. That fast?

“Jeez! You're somebody hard to find,” she heard a woman's voice. “Why didn't you turn the phone on?”

“I am not available twenty four hours a day,” he answered. “You know that.”

“Well, yeah, tough. You are in-demand now, you have to be ready twenty hours a day.”

“No, I don't,” he closed the door. “How did you find me?”

“It's my job to find you...oh alright. Kay's people told me.”

She turned off the water. Her heart was raging. What if he told his agent? What if his agent saw her? Was she about to experience the worst media circus in her life, knowing that today or tomorrow the news about her break-up would be spreading all over internet at the same time she was caught in a hotel with another man? Oh, how she wished the earth had just opened up and swallowed her down!

“Oh....,” the woman's voice was trailing. “I didn't know you were having a guest.”

“I am,” there was a smile in that voice. “What is it, that can't wait until later?”

“You have an appointment for your new film.... in about two hours.”

“Whom shall I meet?”

The woman mentioned some unfamiliar names. “If you get the roles, you will play the love interest of the industry's most wanted women.”

She held her breath. Who could it be? Emma? Jennifer? Brie? Margot? Nikki? Or all of them?

“Wow...,” strangely, that voice now sounded thoughtful. “That's terrifying. Exciting, but also terrifying.”

“So get yourself ready. I wait for you at the lobby. And who....,” the woman stopped her sentence. Obviously, something he had done made that woman not to continue her question. “You and your secrecy,” that woman sighed. “People want to know about you. Don't put too much mystery around you.”

Then she heard that woman leave.

She put her hand on her mouth. If he got the roles, the press would start aiming their mouthpieces and eyes at him. This would be the last thing she wanted. She snatched the towel and wrapped it around. It was foolish to come here... she opened the door. The room was tidy, her clothes were on the bed, folded. Beside them were a pair of jeans and a black and red checkered shirt.

“I didn't know,” he apologized. “I thought I had a day off today.”

“What is this?” She pointed at the clothes, trying to keep her nerves under control.

“I thought, maybe you could leave your clothes here and wear mine. I also have a hat, just in case you need it. You know, starting your undercover act...,”

She looked at him, and she realized he was nervous. He seemed not to care about the future of working with some serious names in Hollywood. Instead, he was more focusing on her. She smiled. “You are serious about the undercover thingy...”

“You bet I am. I don't want to share you with the world.”

Somehow it was sweet. It was an illusion, both of them knew it, but it was sweet nevertheless.

He came to her and took her in his arms. She put her head on his chest. She could see even now, the future would not be easy for them. She wondered, would he sacrifice his budding career by entering the circus ring – namely, her?

He was sitting in the waiting room at the New York Film Festival, waiting his name to be announced as he received a text. Yes, London. TNS. He smiled. She would come to London with him. By now he got used to with her Easter's Egg style of texting. You still owe me jeans and shirt. He answered. Is that how they call it in London, these days *thinking emoji*, TNS. He chuckled. They had been exchanging texts every day in this last month. At first, he had been panicking to think that she might have cut any connection with him, after his agent had come unannounced at the hotel room. The meetings for his next project (the make it or break it meeting, as his agent described them) became meaningless. Meaningless might have not been the correct choice of word... less important... yeah, that was more likely, if he had lost her. Now that he knew how good it felt to be with her....no, he didn't want to lose her.

Late in the afternoon that day, he received her text. A picture, to be exact. Of a bag. A pink bag, which looked like a box. That picture had driven him crazy. He was about to send a text, No way I will search for Easter's eggs in September, but he decided to delete it at the last second and googled it instead. The bag shared the name of his beloved city and there was some pictures of hers going out with the bag with an outfit that made his senses go wild, smiling from one ear to another. Looking good, Babe. He texted her. I want to see you. Now. With the bag. Only.

I bet you talk dirty to all girls like this. TNS.

Only to you, Babe. And my lips are not just for talking.

A minion spitting out popcorn gif was the reply.

If she had not come to his hotel room again that night, he swore, he would have stayed under the cold shower for a very long time.

And that had been the beginning of the end of summer. All those sneaking outs: her into his hotel rooms, him into her rented house; all those 'accidental' meetings at the cafes or bookshops; all those surprises looks he had to perform when he listened to her songs in front of her friends, especially when they had been the same songs she sang after their love making – she laughed when he mentioned it, saying: “You should've seen how you blushed! That is so cute!” Obviously all his performances had not been convincing. On a second thought, how could he? She looked like a child at the Christmas morning when she sang. Any thoughts of performing an act would be gone when he saw such a joy radiate from her face.

Oh he would give anything to keep this summer go on!

A loud, demonstrative sigh took his attention away from his phone. His agent. Not less demonstrative, she held her phone high enough for him to see the screen. “I knew I saw the jacket from somewhere,” his agent mumbled. “Oh, boy... this is not gonna be easy....”

On his agent's phone's screen was her, wearing the sequin jacket she had worn that night. Having a girls' night out with her friends, the caption said.

He did not react. His agent knew what he would say anyway. It is a private matter, and like its name, it stays private.

His name was announced. He looked at his agent. Her face flashed before his eyes. Smiling, he said, “I am ready:”

#love story #romance #taylor swift #dusty springfield #depeche mode #roberta flack #rihanna #mikky ekko #herb alpert

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kaziklubaby · 5 years

Text

Title: The Bonnie Lass of Dublin

Chapter 01

Words: 1.7k

Pairings: Dutch van der Lind x Molly O’Shea x Kieran Duffy

Warnings: None.

Summary: fluff, angst and smut.

What is love but a kaleidoscopic illusion? What is happiness but sadness pending? What is sorrow but the prospect of joy? What is hate but unrequired love?

Comment: I write improbable couples and can change your mind.

Molly O’Shea was crying. It was not the first time she had cried, and she was certain that it would not be her last. In these moments, she couldn’t help but remember the day that she boarded the ship to this new land, allegedly full of opportunities.

When they asked her why she did it, why did she come to the US, she merely said that she came in the whim of finding adventures and excitement, which was only partly true. Why would a lass from a wealthy family board on a ship and come to that wild country, with no means to live? There were parts of her story that even she didn’t want to look at.

She didn't sign up for that kind of life, though. Living in the run, sleeping in tents like savages, almost never getting a glimpse of society, much less the fair part of it. Who would have thought that Molly O’Shea, entitled the Bonnie Lass of Dublin – a title given by Seamus O’Brien, a man with means and influence – would be running with outlaws and eating beans with meat like some kind of peasant?

If she knew that beforehand, she would have stayed in Ireland. She should have married that poor shoemaker, or at least accept old Seamus O’Brien, then she would have had a roof over her head, and a comfortable life, even if not one of the great romances.

Great romances... they have lied to her as well, that’s why she didn’t read them anymore. They were all but cover, much like her relationship with Dutch was turning.

He was the reason she traded all. She could have returned Ireland before when she had the opportunity, but no. She met him, and for him, she would walk to the ends of the Earth, or so she thought.

In the beginning, she was stunned by his looks and words, it was like a spell had fallen over her eyes. His dark eyes were much like the ones of a Selkie, dark and mysterious, his voice was like music to her ears. When he told her about his vision of the world, how he valued freedom and liberty above all else and dreamed of living an independent existence, exulting that facade of Robin Hood, she thought that she had found a hero. Her hero, a rogue that had a heart of gold, believing he and his crew could make a difference in the world.

Also, it was he who taught her about pain and pleasure and showed her the many ways to satisfy a woman, even if he wasn’t paying that attention to her now. He had been her first and she dreamed that he would be her last too.

She truly believed that she had found her hero, the perfect guy from the tales she heard, and he swept her off her feet. First, he was around as a protector, then, slowly he became – and without any resistance of the Bonnie Lass of Dublin – her lover.

Or was the other way around?

She was his lover. Who was she here? No one, nothing. Just the same as the next girl.

At first, she couldn’t care less about what other people thought of her, she was with him and nothing could change her love for him, all she needed at the end of the day was Dutch and him alone, his presence filled her in a way she never experienced before, however, as the time went by, little by little, she noticed that their relationship turned into a sour convivence and that she wasn’t enough to him anymore. Her love only grew as his feelings merely shrink.

Why was that? She wasn’t being good enough? She loved him so much, why her love wasn’t enough to him? Why Dutch was ignoring her like a bad habit? Had she lost the gleam of “new thing”, then? What was Molly O’Shea now but a conquer for him?

These ideas filled her head and heart with distress.

Had he become tired of her?

At first, she thought that it was just a day thing, maybe he needed some space – all men need space sometimes, right? – in the end, she was only trying to ignore what she could obviously see, for Molly O’Shea was no fool.

Sooner than she expected, Dutch was already leaving her alone all the time, cornered in their tent by her thoughts.

How much time would it take for him to leave her by the side of a road? Or worse, for her to become like Miss Grimshaw, watching him take younger girls as lovers, because she wasn’t blind to the silent stories of the camp.

She was a proud Irish girl, and if he left her on a road, she would survive, but she didn’t want to. She needed him to acknowledge her, to be with her, he promised her. Dutch promised to love and cherish her, was all of that a lie? He said he would take care of her, where was he now?

That was her life now. No more Bonnie Lass of Dublin, no more balls, no more Seamus O’Brien holding her hand and trying to persuade her into being his lover, nor a poor shoemaker and his promises of a happy family. Just Miss O’Shea, plain and boring in the eyes of the man she loved.

She didn't come to America to be a servant and a diminished lover, much less the reason for mockery. People at camp made fun of her, or despised her, and never back home someone would treat her like that! She was better than them all.

And she cried, near the lakeshore, as the sun was up high in the sky. She had nowhere else to go. What could she do?

-You okay Miss? – someone said.

She looked at the owner of that voice with despise and anger.

-What do you want? – she tried to brush her tears away, but they just kept coming.

He noticed that when she cried, her green eyes seemed bluer, and he imagined that they looked like the greenish oceans of her land.

-I’m sorry, didn’t want to bother – Kieran said, ashamed of disturbing her – You seemed...

-What I seem or not isn’t your concern – she said.

-I’m sorry Miss... – he said, walking away.

That boy Kieran was noisy, she didn’t trust him, nor she desired to engage in conversation with someone that treated their horses, it was below her.

Molly made up her mind, she was going to talk to Dutch about these things that bothered her, maybe... their relationship still had a chance to be more than a source of sadness.

She hoped and she waited for him.

[...]

When they argued, she simply was taken by her anger and there was nothing in the world that would make her cry, but soon as her blood cooled down, she would feel how her heart was broken, every time it seemed one step away from mending it. She was walking by the shore of the lake, she needed to get away from the camp, no more people seeing her cry, no more small talk about her.

She needed space, and she needed to cry. All her being felt torn apart because of his words, Dutch could be so cruel when he wanted to be.

She walked until she couldn’t hear or see the camp anymore, then fell on her knees by the water, without caring that the dirt would ruin her beautiful skirt. She was so tired of it all.

Only the wind heard her, and carried her cries of sorrow in itself. Or so she thought.

A few paces away, there was a Kieran relaxing near the water. He enjoyed the quiet and calm, and the sounds of nature, much more pleasant than the talk of people. He had just taken a bath and now was drying in the warm light of the sun.

He couldn’t forget his status in the gang, being a former O’Driscoll and all, people still mistrusted him and talked about killing him, however, Kieran Duffy wasn’t sad at that moment, in fact, he felt in peace, for fish was plenty, nature was beautiful, sun was warm against his skin, like a caress, and life was good, after all.

The singing of the birds had been disturbed by an ugly cry, and his peace was broken. Who was crying at that hour of the day? It could not be a lady in white, for they only appeared in the dead of the night.

He looked around until his eyes found who was crying at distance.

It was her again, sad Miss O’Shea.

Kieran sighed. What was a cry but a broken call to arms?

Miss O’Shea was a proud one, of that he was sure, but he didn’t hate her, he didn’t even dislike her. She was sad all the time, that’s all. He couldn’t blame her too, he always thought that love could be tricky sometimes, yet, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her in the same way he would feel sorry for a bird with a broken wing, although she should never know about it – she wouldn’t understand.

A part of him was a little scared of talking to her too. Who was he but the guy who treated horses? He had no right to talk to her. She wouldn’t enjoy talking to him either – as it happened before – and probably would think he was prying.

Still, he wanted to do something. It wasn’t right to just let her drown in sorrows, without not even a slight of happiness. A pretty girl like her should enjoy flowers, maybe red ones to match her hair.

When Molly O’Shea returned to camp, her eyes were red and plump from crying so much, and she wished for nothing more than to lay down and sleep, but as she approached the tent she shared with Dutch, she saw flowers over her bed, a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers, red and green.

As she picked it up, smelling them, her face lost her sad and tired expression, lightening herself, as she embraced that bouquet.

Kieran saw it from afar, as he mended a horse cell, and again he couldn’t help himself but feel a warm sensation within his chest. She looked so beautiful, and the smile in her face made her look angel like. Molly O’Shea was amazing indeed.

-Dutch! I knew you weren’t serious! These flowers are beautiful, thank you! – she said, as Dutch approached.

He seemed confused for a moment, but only enough to plot his way through it.

-Yes, I made it for you, darling. All for you. – he said.

#molly o'shea #dutch van der linde #kieran duffy #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2

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hollowedrpg · 5 years

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CONGRATULATIONS, WREN! — You’ve been accepted for the role of Sirius Black. Not only do you fully understand Sirius as character, but the added section of your app where you talk about Sirius’ relationship with other people really showed me you understand how he fits into this group. I also loved how you included how Sirius reacted at the vigil. It was a nice little addition that showed you’re excited and ready to plot within this group (and a giant punch to the gut omg.)

Thank you so much for applying. Please create your account and send in the link, track the right tags, and follow everyone on the follow list. Welcome to Hollowed Souls!

ooc.

name: wren

age: twenty three years old

preferred pronouns: they/them

timezone: gmt

activity: i should be fairly active! I usually come on fairly regularly, at least every 2 days. I do work a full time job and can sometimes get a bit exhausted, but i try to do my replies often to keep things going. I would put myself at a 6-7/10.

are you applying for more than one character?: nope, just sirius!

how do you feel about your character dying?: my kingdom for an honourable death, honestly. i would be perfectly fine with sirius dying.

anything else?: thank you so much for suggesting that I apply again! I love this roleplay so much and I think it looks magnificent, so i’m thankful for the second chance to be a part of it.

ic details.

full name: sirius orion black

date of birth: 3rd of November, 1960.

former hogwarts house: gryffindor.

sexuality: gay.

gender/pronouns: nonbinary, he/him pronouns,

face claim change: n/a

more.

how do you interpret this character’s personality? how will you play them? include two weaknesses & two strengths. i am become a blade. sirius is burdened with a shift in his own nature, a deep change in him obvious for all to see. once, he was the brightest thing in the room. once, his one wish was to make everyone happy and to make everyone laugh. he was a boy who was always running away from something, from the truth of his own existence. he’s stopped running now, and he’s full now of a dark and desperate energy, and it makes him dangerously reckless. always leaping head first into danger, always acting before he can really think it through. he can’t stand to be still anymore, he can’t stand to watch while he could be doing. there’s a constant hint of the macabre to him since the massacre, a nature that he’s long pushed away coming to the surface. he wants blood and retribution, and the Black family has never failed at getting what they want. like a vengeful god, he’s ready to do whatever it takes. despite a drastic shift in attitude compared to his school days and the early days of the war, sirius still maintains the traits that made him an attractive friend. love still wins out in his heart, when the right people are involved. loyalty is a habit that’s hard to break, after all. despite his reckless energy, he can occasionally be seen as something dependable. he will, at the very least, follow each and every action through to the end in one way or another. strengths: + dedicated: when you tell sirius to do something, he’ll commit himself to it with an all consuming energy. he tries his best to do what he’s told, to do anything that will help the war effort. + honest: he doesn’t fuck around with things anymore. if he’s angry, he lets you know. if he loves you, he’ll tell you. no matter how annoying and how reckless he might be, at least you can trust him to tell the truth about it. weaknesses: – reckless: call it a death wish, the way he throws himself head first into every situation. he throws himself onto train tracks and into the line of fire, and almost messes everything up for all the others while he’s at it. – obsessive: it’s all consuming, the intimate and unflagging way he fixates on what he wants. love, revenge, to bring someone back from the dead. once he gets on a certain path, he finds it difficult to step off again.

how has the war affected this character, emotionally and otherwise? he spent his whole childhood being raised to be a weapon, being raised as something brutal and dark. a child made for war, the heir to a nobel and most ancient house. it would have been shameful for a Black to be ill equipped for a coming fight, if a Black couldn’t defened the honour and glory of the house. they were like the kings and queens of society, after all. in their minds, the closest thing you could get to royalty. old blood and old magic and a sense of superiority, and they were all crafted to be intense smouldering bombs waiting to go off. they possessed the divine right to do whatever they wanted, creatures of chaos with starlight in their veins. he spent his whole young-adulthood rebelling against that. sirius was the kind of person who always smiled, who tried with frantic energy to soften the sharpness that had been forged into his very being. he didn’t want to be brutal, he didn’t want to be half-mad and filled with an intense kind of cruelty. aunt elladora hung house-elf heads in the hallways, his parents tried to beat the old ways into him in any way they could, cousin bellatrix married a monster and he watched her turn into something he didn’t recognise. the Black family, and their legacy as burning comets. they burned hot and if they hit you at the right time with enough momentum, they could wipe out all life on the planet. he didn’t want to be a weapon, a child raised for war, so he became something soft. sirius was the kind of person who always smiled, always laughed, always told a joke. a lover, not a fighter, no matter how useful his talent at duelling might have been during a war. james had wanted him to fight, sirius had always known it. he’d done what he could, helped in little ways. but he didn’t join the order, and he wasn’t a soldier. he kept his sword by his side. he was a boy raised to be a killing thing, raised to be a monarch who ruled over all with an iron fist. sirius thought he would be good at war, that he would be talented at it in a way he never had been at anything before. but he couldn’t stomach it, the fear always present that if he started to hurt people, he would find out that he liked it too much. like aunt elladora, he might decide it was a good idea to start sticking heads on spikes. it’s james’ death that changes all of that. it turns his self hatred in on itself in ways sirius never could have imagined. he feels useless. he feels like a failure. he feels like he let his best friend die when he could have been helping. james is dead. marlene is dead. so many of his friends are gone now, and he blames himself for it. he might as well have killed them himself. happiness and joy used to be his weapons, the things that shielded him from the world, pushed away whatever darkness resided in his soul. james died, and his armor shattered like so many blades of glass, leaving sharp and jagged edges in the place of warmth and love. he doesn’t know how to think of anything other than fighting now, doesn’t know how to keep denying his own nature. he’s a comet, he has stardust in his veins, and he’s ready to wipe out all life in his path to get what he wants.

where does this character currently stand? with those who wish to hide in godric’s hollow until the war ends, with those who wish to rebuild the order and continue fighting the war, or on neither side? why? he joined the Order the very first second he could. before they’d even buried james, he was dedicating himself to a new life. he had spent so long hiding, before that moment. playing hapless fool, the jester at the back of the class. he’d passed messages, he’d offered refuge once or twice, but now he was ready to pick up his sword and be useful, a good little soldier. there’s a tiny part of him, somewhere deep inside, that wants to take remus lupin’s hand and steal him away. he wants to install him somewhere safe, wrap him in blankets and protective wards, and make sure that he doesn’t die. it’s just the two of them left now: the marauders, an endangered species. twin suns, quickly burning out. there’s a small part of him that wants to hide forever and wait this out. there’s nothing he hates more than that part of himself. a coward. a fool. hopeless. hiding got his friends killed, hiding ruined the world around him. he’s a shadow now, and there are no safe places left for him. he can’t stop until the war is over, can’t stop until he’s given each and every atom of himself to the order, until goodness has won out over the dark. there’s nothing he hates more than himself, but the fact that the order is playing with this idea of hiding away forever is a close runner up in that competition. he wants to move. he wants to act. he doesn’t want their life to be lived in secret, surrounded by graves.

Since joining the Order after Lily and James’ deaths, what’s something reckless Sirius has done that’s made people question whether they should remain a part of the Order? the rumour comes to light like this: a whisper from a valued contact, an implication that the Malfoy family is trying to keep security as tightly wound as possible. only a hand-full of people know how to get and get back out again. an implication, also, that the Lestrange’s are going to be the lead torturers of all those captured souls who may be alive in there. Sirius has always hated the Lestrange family. Rodolphus in particular was a symbol of everything that Sirius hated. even before Rodolphus married Bellatrix, he had proven himself to be a terrifying man. so cruel, so charismatic, so volcanic in his rage and his hatred. the perfect suitor for a daughter of the house of Black. ( “Such a perfect match,” his mother sighed dreamily. “An acceptably pure man.” His father agreed.) once Bellatrix and Rodolphus married, he noticed a change in her that his young mind could only blame on her husband. she had always been the perfect Black, but it seemed like she had decided she could strip away everything but the darkness and still be a person. she horrified him as a child, and he blamed that terrible man for it. Sirius hated him with a fury he could never move past. the rumour is this: that Rodolphus Lestraneg has all the information they might need to stage another attack on Malfoy Manor and reclaim the lost. Sirius wants to move against him the second he hears it, begs and pleads with the order’s leaders to let him. they say no, the rumour is baseless and could put all of their lives at stake, could result in even more losses that they can’t afford at this moment in time. and Sirius means to listen to them, he really does. he means to follow orders and be a good little soldier boy. but impulse control has never been his strong point. under a heavy disillusionment charm, attempting to gather much needed potions supplies for the order, he sees the man and acts before he thinks. his attack his brutal, not even using his wand half the time. beating Rodolphus with bloody fists and burning hatred. it’s quickly apparent that he won’t capture the man, that this will not go to plan, not that he had much of one in the first place. at some point, Rodolphus knocked his wand out of his grasp, and Sirius got a little taste of what it meant to be one of the darkest and most powerful men alive. but he could endure a little crucio, it was nothing really compared to all the pain he held inside already. he was bloody, and aching, and almost wishing for death. but he doesn’t die, and neither does Rodolphus Lestrange. an order member finds them before that can happen, and with a competent stunning spell and a quick apparition and brought them both to safety. the recklessness is this: Sirius went against orders, broke the rules. Sirius could have died, could have been captured. Sirius could have ruined every future plan they might have formed if he’d let himself have information tortured out of him. he argues that he’d die before he gave anything up, but it doesn’t change the frustration everyone in the world seems to feel toward him now.

extra.

insp tag

insp quotes: –– “And here was Ronan, like a heart attack that never stopped.” –– “[He] was angry – every one of his emotions that wasn’t happiness was anger.” –– ““It was the gnawing suspicion that you were leavable, that you were too much trouble, that you were better off dead. It was the shame of wanting something you shouldn’t; it was the ugly thrill of nearly being dead. It was all those things, all at once.” –– ““In a way fighting was just like using magic. You said the words, and they altered the universe. By merely speaking you could create damage and pain, cause tears to fall, drive people away, make yourself feel better, make your life worse.” –– “Being brave was easy when you would rather die than give up.” –– “He is a weapon, a killer. Do not forget it. You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature.” –– “This was not a rattlesnake hidden in the grass, but a deadly coral snake striped with warning colors. Everything about him was a warning: If this snake bit you, you had no one to blame but yourself.” –– “And if i asked you to name all the things you loved, how long would it take you to name yourself?”

headcanons: –– Sirius is a smoker, and the worst kind. He can easily go through a pack a day, and gets very antsy when he goes too long without one. Even when he’s not actively smoking, he can often be found holding one, tucking it behind his ear, or fiddling with his lighter. –– Sirius has covered himself in tattoos. Some are professionally done, and others are stick and pokes he gave himself over the years. –– While Sirius knows nearly every Pureblood Custom that there is like the back of his hand, (save perhaps for any that are used exclusively by Light wizarding families such as the Potters) the Black Family has some of their own traditions and quirks that can set them aside from their other wizarding counterparts. The family places the upmost importance in the stars. They consult the cosmos for guidance throughout their lives, listening to what the shifting of the planets and stars can tell them about the future to come. In their eyes, they are beings that were born of moonshine and starlight, the dust of the universe flowing in their veins and imbuing them with even more grace and power than anyone else. This is why the Black Family has always followed the tradition of naming their children after celestial bodies. They are also cremated after their deaths in a special ritual, which secures the passage of their souls into the heavens so that they may become starlight and moonshine once again. As much as Sirius loathes his family, he does retain a love for the stars. –– Sirius learned to play piano as he grew up, and was quite adept at it. However, he hasn’t played in years. Sometimes he misses making music, but he associates it too much with his family and the responsibilities forced on him. –– At school, If Remus was ever particularly excited or interested about a magical topic, Sirius would “borrow” (here meaning steal) a book about it from the Black Family Library. They were often very old and valuable, but he always shrugged it off. –– Sirius never played Quidditch at school. Sure, it would have added to his appeal, but the fact is that he didn’t have the attention span or the dedication at the time. However, he was a remarkably hilarious commentator on the sport in his Sixth and Seventh years, when the boy who had been doing it before him graduated and he managed to convince the teachers to let him do it. He was a good flyer, so whenever someone asked him why he didn’t play, he said that he was too pretty to risk getting whacked in the face with a bludger. He would humour James by playing with him during the summers or on random nights throughout the year. –– Patronus: Sirius hasn’t formed a fully corporal patronus yet, but if he very does, it would take the form of a very large black dog. Not exactly the same as his animagus form, but slightly more wolfish. –– Boggart: Sirius’ boggart is all of his friends dead, and people blaming him for it.

relationships: –– james potter: ( “They had been a two-headed creature for so long…” ) songs: iscariot –– walk the moon // outer scorpion squadron –– the mountain goats If he ever had a soulmate, it was James Potter. From the very moment they met, Sirius felt like he was a new person. Complete, somehow. Pleasantly won over. James made him believe that he wasn’t a creature built only to hurt things. With James, he could be funny. With James, he could smile and it lit up the world. With James, he was the kind of king that you told legends about, not the kind of king that the hero was supposed to dethrone at the end of the story. they were joined at the hip, twins in everything but blood. everyone knew that Sirius loved nothing more than he loved that boy. things had been getting tense, a little bit, before James died. not enough to cause any kind of rift between them, just the old litany of things James said to Sirius, brought to life with new meaning in the face of the war. “You can be more than this,” James had said. “You can do more than what people expect of you.” Voice tinged with wanting, with expectation. Sirius had failed him them, he doesn’t intend to fail him in death too. –– peter pettigrew: ( “I finally let go and learned to live without you…” ) songs: me and lazarus –– iron and wine // amy aka spent gladiator 1 –– the mountain goats Peter was the kind of unexpected thing you don’t realise you love until its gone. Sirius always took him for granted, though he’s ashamed to admit it. it wasn’t that he underestimated Peter, it was just that he never felt for him with the same intensity that he did for James or for Remus. they were best friends, but Sirius didn’t feel like they were soulmates. Partners in crime, a friendship full of laughter, and Sirius would have died for him a quickly as he would have died for any of the rest of them. It was just…something less, something he didn’t put as much thought into. It makes sense then, that he reacts so differently to Peter’s death than to James’. he wept for hours when peter died. he cried his heart out, punched the walls and punched a mirror and dropped tears and blood onto broken glass. he mourned openly and harshly, but he didn’t let it change him down to his marrow. he missed Peter, but he didn’t change for Peter. after a week, Sirius was starting to pull himself together. Life goes on, after all. –– remus lupin: ( i am coming home to you with my own blood in my mouth… ) songs: no children –– the mountain goats // say something –– a great big world he always loved Remus. he didn’t always know it. it choked him up inside to think of when he was young. remus Lupin, in all his glory, too beautiful and so full of expectations. Sirius wanted to impress him, wanted to make him give up on Sirius. but it never worked. no matter what Sirius did, Remus always seemed to forgive him, so in the end, he stopped trying to make him see that Sirius wasn’t worthy of it. he’s angry at Remus know, though he doesn’t mean to be. he’s angry at everything that isn’t the people they lost, and Remus unfortunately fits into that category. he just wishes that they could go back to the way things were before this, the old motto of theirs: “together?” / “i think so.”, words uttered a hundred thousand times over the years. he doesn’t feel like they’re working together anymore. Remus is the keeper of a secret that Sirius hates, a symbol of safety he doesn’t feel like they should be playing along with. he’s angry, but he isn’t really showing it. the desperation to hang on and keep Remus safe outweighs that. if he lost Remus now, he would really lose everything worth living for. –– marlene mckinnon: ( “I know we’re best when we’re a team…” ) songs: take me to the riot –– stars // ghosting –– mother mother she was like a sister. she was like a train wreck. she was his mirror. like if you’d shaped him into something tiny and beautiful and fierce. he loved her so much, loved her with a whole heart, and if his dick could have been persuaded to want to fuck her he would have happily spent the rest of his life with her. she wouldn’t have been the one he wanted most, but he would have been happy. as it was, they were good the way they were. partners in crime, drinking buddies, full of sharp laughter and tactless words. losing her is another punch to the gut, another thing he hasn’t fully processed. he keeps looking for her, keeps moving to lean on her and finding only empty space where she should be.

event 001 –– the candlelit vigil. he didn’t speak during the vigil. he didn’t stand up and share any stories, couldn’t summon forward the words that were worthy of the people they’d lost. the thing was that if he talked about his grief, he might start crying. the thing was, if he started crying now he would never stop. the feelings would swallow him up, and he’d weep until he died. he lingers near the edges of the crowd, stands silent and stoic in the masses if people. he isn’t ready to process all of this. he isn’t ready to feel the feelings everyone else seems to be embracing. but he isn’t rushing away either. there’s a crushing loneliness in his heart, and it feels like theres frosted glass between him and everybody else, but he can’t bring himself to ditch it. in the end, he’s glad he lingers. glenda’s voice is like a punch to the gut, her words leaving him breathless and feeling something he’s been numb to for weeks. there’s more than one safe place. all of her words make him want to spring into action, make him want to move and do and act before its too late, make him want to find every soul in this world and gather them together so that they can work to change things. it isn’t hope blooming in his chest, but perhaps a sense of purpose. the implication that not all those they’ve lost will be lost forever, knocking the breath out of him, and making him want to find out for sure…

#hp rp #rp #rpg #marauders rp #lsrpg #accepted

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cherieofthedragons · 6 years

Text

Every Piece of Your Soul

Saeran/MC fanfic

As all of Mint Eye searches for him, Saeran visits MC's room, needing to pour out his soul to her. But when he tries to leave... she has something to say.

Based on a VN at the end of Day 9. Spoilers for Ray’s route.

Author’s note: In preparation for writing Saeran, I have done my best to research Dissociative Identity Disorder, thought control (brainwashing), destructive cults, PTSD, and drug use. It is important to me that I handle these issues with sensitivity and respect. Still, I am human, and I humbly apologize for any mistakes I might make.

I must thank two wonderful people -- @trulycertain, who has graciously beta'd for me, and Drallak, whose insight made this fic possible.

Also posted on AO3, link in my header.

There were no Believers outside her room. Saeran had been watching for a while, and he knew that they were checking in frequently, but apparently the Savior had every hand searching for him. Still, he knew the room wouldn’t be unobserved for long, so he took his opportunity to slip in.

Foolish of him to come here. But he couldn’t stay away. His eyes adjusted to the darkness of her quarters, and within seconds he could make out his surroundings in the moonlight. He searched the room and found her curled up under the covers of the bed Ray had chosen for her.

She was sleeping.

Guilt and relief swept over him in equal measure. She was sleeping, thank god. He’d been keeping her awake on purpose, using sleep as a tool to torment her. Ordering her to answer his chats in the middle of the night, sending Believers to imitate his footsteps and scare her into wakefulness. He yearned to talk to her now, but as he looked at her, he realized it was cruel to rouse her from her slumber. So he leaned against the window and simply watched her.

Ray was there, his presence strong within Saeran, aching for her desperately but not able to take control. The two of them gazed at her from behind the same pair of eyes, drinking in the sight of her: the slow rise and fall of her chest, the flutter of her lashes against her smooth skin. In sleep, she looked peaceful in a way Saeran had never seen her.

Ray had seen her that way. She’d given Ray the same peaceful half-smile she wore now.

Mentally, Saeran shook himself, trying to pull himself out of his haze. He should leave. It was wrong to disturb her. With effort, he summoned the courage to walk out.

And her name escaped his lips against his will.

Dammit. What was he doing?

She stirred at the sound of his voice. “Saeran?”

The name surprised him — she’d said Saeran, not Ray. Waking up from a dream, he’d expected her to think of… “You recognize me right away…” Then guilt hit him. “You weren’t waiting for me, were you?” Lying there, frightened even in sleep that he would come back to hurt her again...

She started to move, and he said quickly, “No need to get out of bed.”

Still, she sat up, blinking in the moonlight. Her piercing eyes were fixed on him now, but there was no fear in them. No, they were full of kindness, understanding, wisdom. How could he ever have lied to himself that they were empty? Those eyes saw everything.

That was why he’d hated them so much. Nobody should see what was inside him. That was why he couldn’t stop staring at them now. He wanted to be seen.

There was so much he longed to tell her, and so much he should never say. The idiotic thing was that he couldn’t tell the difference between the two. When he opened his mouth to speak, all his thoughts came tumbling out. He told her of the battle within him, the need to be near her clashing with the fear that she would somehow triumph over him. He told her how hollow he felt — how emptiness fueled his anger, how anger created more emptiness. She never gave in and never gave up, caring for him even as he tortured her. She amazed him. He told her that, too.

Her response was quiet. “You said so many cruel words, but you were the one to get hurt.”

Yes. She understood without explanation. That was the problem, wasn’t it? She understood him too well, and it terrified him.

The past two days, he’d been certain that he had to punish her, to torment her until she broke. If he didn’t hurt her, if he let her in, it would be nothing for her to break him first. She could crush him to pieces with a handful of words. So he did everything he could think of to make her suffer. Every pain that had marked him, he inflicted onto her. But — she didn’t break. She stood strong, loving, never losing herself. And in the end, he understood that it was only himself he hated. All the fury he spewed at her was really aimed at himself.

Saeran said all this, too, praying that his words were good enough. As he spoke, Ray became harder and harder to ignore. Ray wanted her so much. He was so scared of being hated. But the hope… it was unshakable. He loved her too deeply.

And Saeran’s path became clear.

“I’m ruined beyond hope. It’s impossible for me to throw away my hatred against the world and start over again in this little hell.” He gathered his courage to say his next words. “But...maybe it is possible for Ray.”

She watched him with wide eyes as he continued talking, listening raptly until his words ran out. Finally, he let out a breath. It was done. He’d said all there was to say. It was time for him to leave.

He was halfway across the room when she cried, “Ray. Ray!”

Her words brought him to a stop, tugging on his heart, holding him back so that he couldn’t take a single step. Within him, Ray was quivering with fear, worry, hope…

Saeran tried hard not to feel the same emotions. Tried, but failed.

“Ray.” The name was a whisper so quiet he had to strain his ears to hear it. She let out a shaky breath. “I love you.”

Her words hit him like a bolt of lightning, both of him, but in very different ways. Ray was electrified, vibrating with excitement and hope. Saeran… Saeran…

It was as though a bucket of ice had been poured over him. She loved Ray. She loved him. Well, that was a good thing, right? They really could be happy, the two of them. Saeran had been right. He had no place. He should disappear, go to sleep, give himself over.

Give her up.

“I love you.” Her voice was a little louder, a little less shaky. “I’m always going to love you. Even if I wanted to stop — and I don’t — I couldn’t. You’re in my heart forever.”

Saeran closed his eyes. Just for a moment, he let himself pretend those words were for him.

“I love — I love —” She took a deep breath. “I love every part of you.”

His eyes flew open.

“Every corner of your mind. All the parts you’re ashamed of. All the parts you hate. The quiet parts. The angry parts. The parts of you that blame yourself, and the parts of you that blame others. There’s not a piece of you that I don’t love.”

Saeran couldn’t breathe. She wasn’t saying — she couldn’t be saying—

“I will love you, every piece of your soul, forever.” Her voice began to shake again. “That’s a promise. Whether — whether you want me to or not.”

Inside him, Ray was on fire. Saeran was on fire, too.

“Can he hear me, too?” she whispered. “Can you tell him? Ray should know, too.”

Saeran turned slowly until he was facing her again. She was watching him. Tears glistened on her lashes, but her mouth was pressed into a determined line. Her chest heaved.

As he watched, a single teardrop trickled down down her cheek, and he had to fight the urge to run to her, to wipe it away. Instead he followed it with his eyes as it slid over her smooth skin. He took in her whole face, the way her determined expression was beginning to twist in pain, the corner of her lips turning down in sorrow. Those lips, those beautiful lips. Ray was so close to the surface — both of them could remember the feel of them against their own, so sweet and soft…

Without thinking, Saeran took a step towards her. She blinked up at him, confusion crossing her brow.

“Can I…” He swallowed, his eyes fixed on her lips. “Would you let me…”

God, what was he doing? What was he saying? He was Saeran, he’d hurt her, tormented her, made her suffer again and again, and he was asking for…

Her eyes went hard, and he prepared himself for the rejection he knew was coming.

Without a word, she stood. Her feet took a step towards him… then another… then another…

She was standing before him now, too close, far too close. Not close enough. Her hand reached for his face, and he flinched, ready for a blow, but she merely ran her thumb across his lower lip. Electricity shot through him at the simple touch.

“This?” she breathed.

He couldn’t speak. He could barely nod. Within him, Ray was radiating joy and love.

She tilted her head up, leaning in closer. In a moment of unbelievable bravery, he bent his head down and touched his lips to hers.

And in that moment, they were one, Saeran and Ray, one person, one heart that beat only for her. One desire filling their mind — to never, ever stop kissing this woman, to never be apart from her again.

Then she pulled away, looking up at him cautiously, and they fractured once more. With all his being, Ray wanted to grab her and pull her into his arms. Saeran wanted the same — and was absolutely terrified of it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m not him, you know.”

“You’re Saeran,” she said, as if it were obvious. “I know who you are.”

He gaped. “Then… why…?”

In answer, she took both his hands in hers, her eyes never leaving his face. “Don’t hurt anyone anymore,” she murmured. “You don’t need to. You have nothing to prove. You’re strong, and your heart is much greater than you give yourself credit for.”

It was too much. He couldn’t process. “I have to go,” he choked out, stumbling backwards, jerking his hands from her grip. “I’m sorry, I have to… I have to…”

He turned away, nearly tripping over his feet, and staggered towards the door, tears obscuring his vision as he reached the hallway and ran.

#saeran choi #mystic messenger #ray #unknown #mystic messenger fic #MC #mysme #mysmes #mm #saeran choi x mc #ray x mc #unknown x mc #ray's route #ray's route spoilers #cherie writes things

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