#did not trust myself to sleep anymore than that. i had to make sure i had enough time to finish.

[kscheibles]

e la vita ch. 1

content warnings: f! reader, drug mentions, drinking, emetophobia, bisexuality (homophobes and biphobes begone I will block u so fast)

word count: 3.8k

I didn’t want to be in Italy this summer.

That makes me sound ungrateful or something, but it’s the truth. Three months ago, I had planned to stay in Brooklyn with Claire all summer long. Hosting dinner parties, eating greasy breakfast sandwiches, dancing to old $1 records in our cramped apartment, picnicking in Prospect Park, and being totally, delusionally in love.

That was before things went south, she stopped trying and left me with more rent than I could possibly pay in the city. When Christina had first mentioned that a group of her friends was headed to Italy for the summer, I’d dismissed the possibility of going with them. Not only did I dread cohabitating with her wealthy, influencer friends who seemed to deal only in clout, I thought I’d be otherwise engaged. Weeks later, I’d gone back to her groveling, asking if I could sleep on the pull-out couch in Nina’s family villa for the summer. Luckily, the sofa was still available.

Now I sit at a wrought iron table – lease broken and all of my belongings sold to wealthy Manhattanites – in the warm yellow light of the Lombard sunset. Around me are chatty, outgoing girls, each more beautiful than the last. They gab about clubs and brands and boys. In the sea of Botox and iPhones, I cling to Christina like a life buoy. I push my tortellini around my plate to make it look like I have an interest in food, but I really don’t. I’m jet-lagged and uncomfortable. And even if that wasn’t the case, I’ve barely eaten since the breakup, relying on oat lattes and dirty water dogs to keep me alive.

“Try the pasta,” Christina jabs, “trust me, you’ll have a lot more fun this summer if you lean in.” I break the shell open with my fork revealing succulent ricotta curds and bright green spinach. The filing swims in a sauce of brown butter and fragrant tarragon but doesn’t affect me as it should. Nothing does anymore. The group’s conversation interrupts my train of thought.

“They’ve come every summer since the nineties, same as us,” says Nina, smirking at the girl to her left. “Hottest little accents you’ve ever heard, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Who is she talking about?” I whisper to Christina.

“The boys in the other house,” she says, “the one you see on your way up here.” Nina’s family’s home is at a higher altitude than the rest of the city, necessitating a laborious hike to the bottom to actually do anything while in town. I’m sure that they’d been sold on the privacy of the location, but its impracticality left me wanting. The only other villa nearby sat at the base of the lush green hills before the road disappeared into winding dirt.

Another girl chimes in, “I saw them last year at a dinner in the city. They’re cute, too,” she coos. 

“I kissed George the summer I turned fifteen,” brags Nina and the whole table breaks into oohs and aahs. I usually have a shut-up-unless-spoken-to policy at group dinners, but I know Christitna is right. If I don’t lean in then the credit card debt I’d amassed to buy my plane ticket and the back problems I'm sure to contract from sleeping on a pull-out couch for a whole summer will have been for naught. Think of it as an acting exercise, I tell myself, a performance of the girl who is totally not hung up on her ex and excited for a fun summer with her friends. 

“I’m sorry,” I interrupt, “who are these guys?”

“They’re in a band,” says Nina.

“Like a real one?” I ask. Years of living in New York have taught me that all bands are not, in fact, real ones. Nina laughs.

“You’re funny,” she muses, “yes, a real one. They’re like famous. We’ll go over eventually, they throw the best parties you can find around here. Get real drugs, too. Not just liters upon liters of Aperol, not that I mind that either.”

With my question sufficiently answered, I return quietly to my pasta, cutting each shell into impossibly smaller pieces until it’s rabbit food that will glide down my throat and do the hard job of nourishing me without any work on my part.

–

After dinner, I tuck into the pull-out couch in the villa’s spacious living room. The lack of A/C and the balmy summer air make it impossible to enjoy the luxurious wool blankets Nina’s family no doubt splurged on. I allow myself to eavesdrop on the elated sounds coming from upstairs: women confiding in each other, commiserating about their troubles, and shrieking excitedly at each other's successes.

I first try to doze off at 10:15, hoping that an early night will be exactly what I need and I’ll wake up refreshed and on Italian time. After an hour of staring at the popcorn ceilings and trying to suppress my crippling fear of missing out, I’ve tired my mind out enough to begin slipping toward sleep. I have fewer and fewer thoughts until I’m jolted by a hip-hop bassline. It resonates through the trundle bed and rebounds off my ribs, cozying itself into my heart. As I begin to come to, I recognize the chords of a house track that used to play at the girl bar Claire and I frequented in Green Point. The melody is warm and familiar and undeniably annoying. How loud must the music be for it to affect me so acutely even as I’m a few kilometers away from them? 

I decide I’m pissed – and yes I decided. I’m freshly single, broke, jet-lagged, and fucking pissed at those entitled rich assholes. I slide my sandals on and head out down the hill in my sleep clothes.

-

I step outside onto the winding dirt road that leads the way to the boys’ home. The night is dark, lit by stars much brighter than I’m used to seeing in Brooklyn. I tilt my head back to look at them, trying to identify the big dipper. After a few seconds, I’m dizzy. I shake myself and trudge ahead, almost lulled into submission by the constant chirping of cicadas and the sweet fragrance of orange blossom that wafts off the bushes. 

With each step I take towards the boys’ villa (what were their names again? Nina said one was called George), the music, electronic and fast-paced, becomes louder. 

When I first knock on the faded wood door, I’m quite sure no one has heard me. I stand outside for a few minutes, contemplating whether I should knock again or cut my losses and return up the hill. I decide I may as well disrupt their party as some kind of karmic retribution for keeping me awake even as I’m exhausted from a transatlantic flight. I raise my fist and rap harshly at the door. A moment later, it flies open, revealing a curly-haired boy. Well, not boy, I decide as I inspect his features – lines decorate his forehead, and gray peeks out at me from within a ringlet that hangs over his eyes. He gives me a once over and can immediately tell I’m not here for the party. 

“Can I help you?” he asks, annoyed. His accent lilts and falls over the words. All of a sudden, I feel insecure in my braless and plaid pajama-clad state. He’s beautiful – and exasperated by me. I double down on my own annoyance. 

“Would you mind turning the music down?” I ask, still cordial, “I’m staying at the house up the way and I can’t get to sleep.”

The guy in front of me purses his lips and considers me for a moment. I feel itchy and uncomfortable. He’s looking at me like he can see through my clothes, to my soft hips and painted toes and peaked nipples. 

“Let me show you around, gorgeous,” he smiles, “then maybe you won’t mind so much.” He grabs my wrist and yanks me into the party. A warmth covers me as I cross the threshold into the villa. The inside of the home smells like college: cheap weed, sweet sticky mixers, and sweat. My sandals stick slightly to the floor, reminding me that I really shouldn’t be here right now. Like the alcohol that’s been spilled on the ground is some great cosmic interference to convince me to go home and get the rest I ought to. 

Suddenly, a big hand falls on the shoulder of the boy who’s pulling me by my limbs.

“Matty!” says the man. I can make out enough to see that he’s tall and devastatingly handsome. 

“George!” the boy – Matty, I remind myself – drops my hand and fully embraces the bigger guy. “Was just showing…” he nods at me to introduce myself.

“Y/n.”

“Around,” Matty finishes. George gives me a once over.

“Did she just roll out of bed? Or get released from prison?”

“Y/n came to ask us to keep the noise down,” Matty declares with fake sincerity, “Not a partier, are ya love?”

“Under the right circumstances, I can be,” I retort. Matty and George’s eyebrows raise in amusement, faces breaking out in smiles. That sounded much more cunning in my head. Now I feel like a toy they’re playing with, winding me up to see what noises I make. It feels infantilizing. I’m uncomfortable, crawling in my skin; pride battered and desperate to go home as soon as it doesn’t look like I’m running away from a fight of my own picking. “I’d better be going actually,” I assert.

Matty puckers his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “I’ll show you out, princess.” It’s a sweet nickname but it tastes bitter out of his mouth. He seems to twist everything good and make it unbearable. I resent him for it. I trudge in front of Matty towards the door with steadfast focus. As I cross the threshold, I turn to meet his gaze.

“Thanks for nothing,” I say calmly. Matty breaks into a devilishly smug grin. His eyebrows tilt a little and his lips reveal a few crooked teeth at the bottom of his mouth.

“My pleasure, darlin’,” he says. I scoff and turn on my heels, leaving Matty in the dust.

–

The scent of freshly chopped garlic fills the kitchen as I stand in an assembly line of young women with cutting boards and chefs knives, each diligently chopping an ingredient for the bruschetta. 

In front of me is a bunch of basil, perfectly fresh and green. I gently remove the leaves from the stem and create a pile in the middle of my board. It reminds me of when I would be tasked with raking the leaves as a kid. Too distracted by my childish whims, I would create more work for myself by piling the leaves on top of each other and taking a grandiose dive into them before scooping them up into a trash bag and discarding them. Each leaf was like a piece of confetti, a celebration of the season and of youth. Now I do these things to prove to myself that I’m young and that I can still conjure up that imaginative, playful nature if I try hard enough. 

As I rock my knife back and forth over the soft leaves, Christina asks me where I was the night before. 

“I came out around eleven to invite you upstairs, but I couldn’t find you,” she says.

Embarrassed, I train my eyes to the task at hand. This is not the group to look like a tattle-tale in front of. Actually, there’s very few groups in which that would fly. My penchant for playing God and divvying out karmic consequences to everyone whose path I cross is a part of my nature I’m not particularly fond of. I’m not keen to share it, especially around people who are still making up their minds about me. Despite my steadfast beliefs and borderline-outlandish behaviors, I maintain a fervent desire to be liked. It’s pathetic. 

“I stepped out for some air,” I murmur.

“Really?” she nudges, “Because I didn’t see you on the porch.”

I turn my basil bunch 90 degrees in a flourish, beginning to chop it lengthwise. 

“Fine, I couldn’t sleep because of the music,” I spit.

“And…” Christina has always been too good at getting me to reveal my true feelings. She goads me torturously until it’s easier to say what I’m thinking than to conceal it.

“And I went to ask them to turn the music down,” I finish, “There, are you happy?”

“Very,” she smiles. 

I pick up the chopped basil, letting the pieces float through my fingers and deciding I need to chop them smaller, still. I whack at the pile haphazardly, ruining the lovely squares I meticulously crafted earlier. 

“They didn’t turn it down, if you were wondering,” I pant, “Pricks.” Christina chuckles to herself.

“No one ever does.”

–

The music of the club is omnipresent as I enter hand in hand with Christina. On my feet are heels too high to be comfortable, but the perfect lift to accentuate my calves. As soon as I cross the threshold, I drag Christina to the bartender, ordering two negronis. We idle by the bar for a moment and I take in my surroundings, savoring the bitter aftertaste of my drink and the waltz of the lights that flicker and cover the dancefloor with reverie. I listen to the synths and flourishes of the melody that envelop my senses. I hadn’t expected to like the music, but the DJ is spinning disco and it just feels right: the cold Italian aperitif, the funky basslines, and the tranquil nighttime air. I almost wish I’d left my phone at home. Nights like these aren’t compatible with phones anyway. The atmosphere feels like a relic of a bygone era, full of free love and intoxication. 

Nina and a friend of hers find Christina and me at the bar and run up to us with inebriated bravado. “You guys made it!” she squeals. Little does she know we were pre-gaming at the villa in anticipation of this exact moment. I couldn’t handle Nina while sober tonight, that much I was absolutely sure of. It also didn’t help that I was alone – for the first time in several years – in a romantic foreign country without the girl whom I still loved. As unhealthy as it was, alcohol made that reality hurt a bit less. Nina grabs my hands and leads Christina and me away from the bar. 

“I need to introduce you to the DJs!” Nina exclaims. I glance at Christina to communicate that no, I’m not particularly enthused at the prospect of meeting some Eurotrash guy whose head is shaved and whose torso is covered in Gucci logos. She returns the glance, silently begging me to behave. I relent.

Nina leads us around the side of the floor to some kind of dark stairwell. Rationally, I should be scared of being kidnapped but my drunken stupor inspires more carelessness than I would usually indulge in. I watch the sway of Christina’s hips and follow her like a lost puppy. Finally, we reach the top and the DJ deck is revealed. It’s shadowy and hazy. To the left is a corner booth with a straight couple making out in a way that really ought to be illegal in public. Past the lookout, laser lights flicker and sweep across the dancefloor, catching on the artificial fog and filling the air with psychedelic color. My eyes fall on the backs of two figures at the DJ booth, smoke rising above their heads. I can make out that one has headphones on and is faffing with the turntable while the other has their hands in the air and the small, flickering glow of a lit cigarette dancing around their figure. I’m dragged towards them by Nina who throws an arm around each of their necks in greeting. As soon as the one with the cig turns around, I catch his eyes.

It’s Matty. Selfish, arrogant Matty. I nod my head and flatten my mouth in a kind of recognition. The room is spinning from the alcohol and my skin is buzzing with discomfort. The bass of the music resonates in my ribs, teaching my heart how to beat. My mouth tastes salty and my knees feel weak. 

I’m running to the corner where I can see a bin. Tears prick at my eyes and my hair sticks to my sweaty forehead as I swiftly empty the contents of my stomach into the small trash can. I kneel on the rough carpet and brace myself on either side of the bin with my hands. Between heaves, I lift my head to shake my hair off the back of my neck. The cool air feels grounding, but I’m soon back with my head in the can. I feel a hand on the back of my head, wrangling my frizzy hair off of my shoulders. I gasp, looking back for the sisterly comfort of Christina’s bottomless, cerulean eyes. Instead, I find a pair of brown, honey-flecked irises: Matty’s. I’m reeling too severely to be upset or confused; I’m just grateful when he uses his free hand to sweep my damp bangs out of my face and nods at me.

“Go on,” he encourages, “better out than in.”

I bury my head in the bucket again. 

“Atta girl,” Matty coos in my ear. I can almost notice his hand rubbing circles on my back. Even when I’m quite sure I’m finished, I keep my head down for a moment savoring the last few seconds that I don’t have to look Matty in the eyes. Curse him for helping me. I wouldn’t know how to interact with him under normal circumstances, much less when he’s been nice to me – and watched me unceremoniously blow chunks into a bin.

“You feel better?” he asks. I lift my head tentatively, still scared another wave of nausea will hit me. 

“I think so, yeah,” I mumble. Matty searches my eyes for any warning sign that I’m still sick.

“Have you got a hair tie?” I instinctually fish in my jeans pocket for one, handing it to him. Slowly, he corrals my locks into a ponytail and secures it, fingers grazing the tops of my ears and making me shiver. I sit back against the wall with my legs splayed out in front of me, knees visibly carpet burnt from my previous position. Matty flops down beside me. He reaches out to touch the red, irritated skin. 

“You don’t need a doctor or something, do you?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” I hiss when he applies a little pressure to my knee and shake his hands off me, “Why are you being nice to me?”

“When have I not been nice?”

“You wouldn’t turn the music down the other night,” I state. He smiles at me, eyes scrunching up until his pupils are totally obscured. 

“No one ever turns the music down,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Plus,” he adds, “I thought you were a buzzkill. Now I can see that’s not the case, sweetheart.”

“I can usually handle my drink better than this,” I protest, “And I’m also usually not a buzzkill.”

“I guess I don’t know anything about you, then,” he acquiesces, thinking for a moment, “Do you want to start over?”

“Sure, I’d like that,” I nod, smiling tipsily.

“So what’s caused you to be sick tonight?” Matty asks, leaning his head back against the wall. His hair is curled up in perfect ringlets and his skin glows golden even in the dim club light. He looks at me carefully, like his stare could hurt me. It could, I suppose. 

“Alcohol?” I say it like that should be obvious. His face wrinkles up again in a laugh I can vaguely identify as something that’s my fault. He looks pretty. I realize I want to make him do it again and again forever. I want to see the crinkles that grow at the sides of his eyes and the curl of his upper lip that reveals his boyishly crooked teeth.

“I figured as much. Anything in particular that drove you to drink?” I frown for a second, trying to remember. 

“My ex,” I say quietly.

“What’d he do?”

“Nothing,” I shake my head, “that’s the problem. She didn’t do anything.”

“When was that?”

“Two months ago?” My god, it’s already been two months.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs,  “that’s still fresh.” I shrug.

“It’s alright I guess. You just feel a little betrayed when someone stops trying. I thought that was the whole point of…” I trail off, gesticulating aimlessly with my hands, “love or whatever. To keep trying.”

“I get it,” he utters. 

“People stop trying with rockstars, too?” I tease. He smiles.

“How did you know that I’m a musician?”

“Well, first of all, I said rockstar–”

“Which I chose to ignore because it was sarcastic.” I roll my eyes.

“And second of all, the girls I’m staying with told me,” I finish. He nods in understanding.

“Well yeah,” he sighs pensively, “people stop trying with everybody. Even rockstars. If I’ve learnt anything in my life, it’s that giving up usually has more to do with them than it does with you.”

“You’re probably right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less,” I argue.

“Nothing does. You just have to let it hurt for a while.”

We’re both quiet for a second. I catch a couple of bars of an Earth, Wind, and Fire song and hum along, content with the silence. I let my head fall onto Matty’s shoulder and he immediately turns his head to look at me.

“Oh fuck, sorry. Is this okay?” I ask, hand flying to my mouth “I know I just puked.”

“It’s okay,” he says, “I just didn’t think you would want to.”

“I want to,” I kiss his shoulder through the cotton of his white button-up shirt. He watches me the whole time as though he can’t quite compute what’s happening. Then he snaps back to his regular confident state.

“Let me know if you ever want to deal with your girlf– ex without drinking your feelings away…” he trails off, mouth meeting the crown of my head, “I’d love to show you around here sometime.”

“Okay,” I mumble, the alcohol, tiredness, and emotions beginning to get the better of me and coax me toward sleep.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Matty grabs my hand from my lap and wraps it in his two larger ones, caressing my thumb and humming into my ear.

–

a/n: the next bit is written, but I am still writing the end. smut soon! x

#matty healy fanfic #matty healy x reader #matty healy x y/n #matty healy fluff #matty healy fanfiction #matty Healy

[keirawantstocry]

fitbo first kiss.,,,,,

smiles widely at you

Fit hated feeling greedy, feeling like he was trying to grab for something more than he deserved. Pac joking about multiple boyfriends was fine. Pac deserved them all. He deserved every bit of love he could get but Fit? He didn't deserve all of that. 

He was asked if Pac and Tubbo dating, being so affectionate with each other, kissing in front of him bothered him at all. To be honest it didn't. Not at all. It was Tubbo. He… loved Tubbo. And he wanted the best for Pac. 

They were his family. 

He wanted them to be happy, it made him more happy then he could possibly explain or imagine. 

It almost seemed perfect but there was an underlying unexplained tension whenever Tubbo was around. Fit didn't understand it. He didn't understand the frustrated faces that Tubbo made when he didn't think he was looking. He didn't understand why Tubbo leaned into him so far, almost like he did when he was with Pac. 

“I'm fucking confused!” came Tubbo's distressed voice. 

Fit froze. He had been going to meet up with Pac and Tubbo at Tubbo's factory but now hearing the anguish in Tubbo's voice, he pressed himself back against the wall just out of sight to eavesdrop. 

Then came Pac's smooth voice. “I know, Tubbo. It can be hard to… trust that your feelings are, you know, the same as his.” 

Tubbo let out a frustrated sigh. “Your boyfriend is either the slowest walker ever or he's just stupid.” 

Fit blinked in surprise. They were talking about him. Tubbo was frustrated with him. 

Pac laughed and even that beautiful sound couldn't pull Fit out of his state of confusion. “It doesn't mean he doesn't care about you.” 

“Then why hasn't he kissed me! I swear Pac I have made so many moves on him. I have done everything except kiss him myself. I don't know what to do anymore! It feels like there's no way he could possibly want to kiss me. Are you absolutely fucking sure?” 

“I'm sure,” Pac soothed. “He loves you. But he also comes from a very backwards place. I'm not sure he's come to the point of realizing it's okay to want multiple people at a time.” 

Their conversation continued but Fit couldn't hear a single word over the absolute storm in his mind. Both of their words flew around violently in his mind. Memories flashed to the front of his consciousness. Tubbo pressing his hand against his chest and looking up at him with big eyes. Tubbo falling asleep on his shoulder. Tubbo hugging him hard and holding on. 

Fit remembered his eyes dipping as he looked at the man. He remembered looking at his mouth and wondering before ripping his thoughts away. Guilt had rushed him, reminding him of Pac. He couldn't… like multiple people. It wasn't right. Right? 

Their voices faded away, they were walking. He was supposed to be meeting them but he couldn't move from the spot he was in. 

There was an incredibly tight feeling in his chest. 

“Fit?” came a distant voice. 

He blinked his eyes a few times to focus on the face in front of him, the hand waving in front of his vision. 

“Tubbo,” he said softly. 

The man smiled at him, his eyebrows smushing together in confusion despite the smile. “Well no shit. Pac just left and Sunny is sleeping, who else would it be?” 

Fit continued staring at him. Blinked a few more times. Just to make sure the person in front of him, the beautiful man in front of him was real. 

“Tubbo,” he said again quietly. 

“Yes?” 

Before he knew it, Fit was surging forward. His hands gripped the sides of Tubbo's face tight and he watched as the man's eyes flew open in surprise. 

“Tubbo,” he said, surprised at the low tone and desperation in his voice. 

“Fit.” 

He kissed him. 

Tubbo made a noise of surprise against Fit's mouth but leaned into the kiss instantly. Fit tilted Tubbo's face with his hands, slotting their lips together even closer, trying to crawl into him. Tubbo let out a gasp and Fit swallowed it. 

Fit let one of his hands drag down to grab Tubbo's waist and pull him into and against his body. It felt like the final piece of a puzzle being clicked in to finally show the full picture. 

Fit pulled back with a gasp to drink in Tubbo's expression. His surprised eyes, his open mouth, the gasping breaths falling from his lips, the flush rising on his cheeks. 

“What the fuck was that,” Tubbo said breathlessly. 

Fit laughed. “I…” he paused to take it all in again before speaking. “Realized that I wanted to kiss you.” 

Tubbo blinked slowly. “Thank fuck. I thought I was going to have to smack you upside the head before yo-” 

Fit cut him off by landing a firm kiss on his lips. 

“Mmph!” 

Fit pulled back and laughed. “Oh I'm never letting you get a word in ever again.” 

Tubbo opened his mouth to protest and Fit just grinned before kissing him again, open mouth and all. When he finally pulled back, Tubbo was staring at him with a dizzy, distant look in his eyes. 

“I… I think I'm okay with that.” 

#poly morning crew #qsmp #my writing #fanfiction #fitbo #q!tubbo #q!pac #q!fit #qsmp shipping #i wrote this while in church so its jesus approved

[deadpoolsoci3ty]

so you're the a (alastor x reader) ch 4

summary: “Not answering my question will definitely upset me more. Alastor, I haven't asked you this question yet because I wasn’t ready to hear the answer, but I am now. So, please tell me.” I didn’t want to seem weak, but I also didn’t want him to give me a chance to second guess myself

word count: 1121

warnings: none

masterlist

Chapter Four: would you?

Alastor and I have finished reading The Picture of Dorian Gray, and a few days ago began reading Pride and Prejudice. I had learned that Alastor had read this novel before, and his favorite character is Mr. Bingley. This, unfortunately, did not make me like him less, it had quite the opposite effect. 

Alastor felt like a friend at this point, no longer just a scary voice over a radio. I know that sounds crazy and he’s a demon and all, but he is one of the few constants in my life. He listens to me talk about the books I read to him, and he seems genuinely interested. Today, I had decided I was going to ask him what Hell is like. I had been holding off from asking this question for months because I needed to know I could trust him, well as much as you could trust someone like Alastor. While I'm sure he still wants my soul I don’t think he would lie to me. 

I decided to sleep in so I would feel as calm as I could because I was scared of what he was going to tell me. A fear of hell had been instilled in me since I could understand words. I knew that if hell existed it had to be bad. That was the whole point of it, right? To punish sinners, and I wasn’t perfect. So, I made my way to the radio and brought it with me to the couch. Turning the dials and knobs until I found his station with the static I had become accustomed to. “Hello, Alastor,~” I had slowly but surely begun to flirt back with him. We were never vulgar but the way we spoke to each other was definitely not platonic. 

“Oh sweetheart, I’ve been waiting to talk to you. I’ve missed your melodic voice,” this man (demon) knew exactly how to butter me up.

“Missed you too,” I replied sweetly. 

“Ask away, dear.” 

“Okay, this is a big question, Alastor. I want you to be completely honest with me,” Once I asked this question there was no going back. I had spent my whole life wondering what hell is like, and I was about to find out. “What is hell like?” There was a pregnant pause after the question left my mouth. 

“Well, dear, it’s not a pleasant place. Violent, it’s had to describe, love,” if he could be caught off guard I think this might have done it. “Are you scared of it?”

“Yes,“ I was quick to answer, “my whole life really.”

“I’m sorry dear,” he seemed genuinely apologetic.

“Are there a lot of people there? Like do most people end up there?” I had a feeling a very few margin of people were perfect enough to end up in heaven. He paused again, and now I was afraid he didn’t want to tell me.

“Darling, I don’t want upset you,” 

“Not answering my question will definitely upset me more. Alastor, I haven't asked you this question yet because I wasn’t ready to hear the answer, but I am now. So, please tell me.” I didn’t want to seem weak, but I also didn’t want him to give me a chance to second guess myself.

“Yes, sweetheart, most people come here after their deaths. It takes very little to get into hell and a whole lot to get into heaven. Hell has been overpopulated since its creation. I’ve met many sinners that really didn’t deserve to be here.” This is the answer I expected, but it was still devastating to hear. 

“Alastor, I’m scared I’m going to end up there,” I desperately wanted him to comfort me.

“Darling, there is no doubt in my mind that you would be fine if you somehow ended up here.” It seemed like he wasn’t quite used to offering comfort to others, but he was doing a decent job. “It’s not much different than the human world, people just don’t hide the evil aspects of themselves anymore.” I pause because it’s his turn to ask a question, and I also didn’t know what to say in response to that, “Do you think I would let anything happen to you?” 

“Would you?”

“I hope you don’t want to count this as one of your questions, after all this time are you not sure of my affection for you?” Of course we had been exchanging flirty remarks for the past couple months, but to hear him admit to it out loud like this, was something I was not expecting. In the back of my mind I had been afraid he didn’t actually care about me. That this was all some game to him, but here he was telling me that it wasn’t. He had some sort of adoration for me, whatever much he could give me. I was willing to take whatever he could. “If you found yourself here after your death, nothing could stop me from shielding you from all the horrors in hell. I’ve grown quite attached to you, doll, I wouldn’t want you anywhere but by my side.” I was entirely speechless. He was telling me everything I had ever wanted to hear from someone I have feelings for. 

“Alastor, I want to make a deal with you,” I can’t believe I was doing this, “I want to think about it a little more, but you should know I want to.”

“That would be delightful dear, but only if you truly want to. I don’t have a need for a soul that doesn’t need something in return,” I was not expecting him to try and talk me out of it.

“Like I said, I still need to think about it some more. Why don’t we start reading?” I suggested.

“It would be a pleasure, sweets,” I opened up my copy of Pride and Prejudice and got to reading. Normally as we read Alastor would make comments about what’s happening in the book, but he was silent until after I finished the chapter. Out of nowhere like it had been on his mind since we stopped asking our questions he said, “I would protect you even if I didn’t own your soul.” He didn’t give me a moment to respond before he was gone.

“Alastor?” I raised my voice towards the radio, he can’t just say that and leave, “come back!” I cried. I needed to know more. He cared enough about me to offer me protection without anything in return. He left in such a rush it made it seem like he was uncomfortable with what he had said. I could imagine he hadn’t offered this to someone before, and I wanted what he offered so bad. Hell was much less scary when I thought about Alastor at my side for eternity. 

#alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotl imagine #alastor fic #hazbin fic #hazbin hotel fic

[jinlias]

a/n: how could i post a month of blurbs and no angst? sike u thought bitch.

you can tell the exact moment she breaks. you’ve been trying to tell her you’ve noticed it all, but you always missed her.

“hey, wheres mina?” the last group arrives at the dorm, but instead of four, it’s only sana, jihyo and momo.

“practicing” momo responds absentmindedly, her mind completely on the cold noodles they picked up on the way.

“again?” jihyo shares your concern, both your eyes speaking for themselves. she almost stops eating to come with you, but you reassure her it’s better you go alone.

if this wasn’t your partner’s breaking point, it was yours.

you couldn’t believe you were, but in your head, silently, you were weighing out whether this or her anxiety break had been worse.

from a while back, you noticed mina had been spending way too much time practicing than normal, dancing, singing, all of the above. for some reason, her diet was much stricter than yours or the others and her scheduled was way more packed all of the sudden.

come to think of it, you never heard her say no anymore.

“mina, elle wants you for their july-“ “yes”

“after the shoot, do you think you can take a couple of picture at the grand opening-“ “sure”

“do you have any free time slots tomorrow” “i’ll make the time”

but she wasn’t enthusiastic about it either. and trust, the sex was there and so were the loving kisses and whispers, it’s just, her eyes, mina isn’t there anymore.

“okay. i hear you” jihyo rubbed your back up and down as she listened the first time. you felt so bad you had woken her up in the middle of the night to complain, but more than your leader she was your best friend, if anything she could possibly get through mina. “not me, i can try, but there’s no way she’ll hear me out before you”

“she’s killing herself” jihyo wipes your tears and takes a deep breath to hold some of her own.

“i know it’s hard to think about but y/n- i need you to break her-” the entire time the words came from her mouth, she can see the denial in your eyes and how the pout on your lips deepened.

that was then, now, you’re angry.

“oh, this again. awesome, i’m kind of rusty myself” you drop your gym bag on the floor and begin to tie your hair as you get in position.

you can’t lie and say you willingly got out of bed at almost ten at night to practice. you willingly got out of bed this late because of her. one more night feeling the bed deepen with her body at some much late hour than you tried going to sleep was going to drive you off a cliff.

“y/n? what are you doing here baby?” your eyes press shut and you turn your head to the side when she pauses the music, arms crossed as a tactic to not let her in this time.

“what are you doing here mina?” you never did what jihyo asked, it hurt you to hurt her, but now you had to, because you love her, and you want her to love herself again too.

“i’m.. rehearsing” she replies as if it were obvious.

“i can see that, but why? do you know what time it is?”

“no?”

“it’s late, if we don’t go home we’re going to have trouble waking up tomorrow” her chest stings at all the ‘we’s, and you can see her now usual facade start to lessen. she’s heard you before, she just never listened.

“go home. i’ll be there soon” she tries to shake all the red blaring sirens telling her she’s tired, that you’re right and that she should go home with you, try to sleep more than four hours tonight.

“i’m not going anywhere without you mina” your hands fall at your sides and you begin to walk towards her, stopping only a couple of steps apart. “you can’t tell me you don’t know what you’re doing”

“i’m just practicing babe, i’ll be there soon. i promise”

“you’ve broken a lot of promises lately, you know that right?” you watch her swallow, turn around to fidget with something at the radio station instead of looking at you. “if you know exactly what i’m talking about, why tip toe?”

“i don’t know y/n” her voice raises higher than the usual whisper, and you don’t know whether to be upset at her or put yourself in her shoes. “it’s working. i’ll be home soon”

“what’s working?”

“i said-“

“yeah, you said you’ll be home soon. but you’ve told me that the last three nights and it wasn’t true. what’s working?”

“y/n- i-“

“mina, this is not working. nothing is working. im worried about you all the time and you’re not even letting me in. either we go home and talk about proper help or i’ll be joining you.”

“baby. it doesn’t work like that” she’s scared, you can see that much now, she’s finally allowing herself to feel rather than bottle it up and swallow it down with her usual work ethic.

“all these late practices, the crazy diets. cramped schedule? count me in, i’ll do it all if that’s what it takes for you to stop” she looks like she’s been caught, biting her lips and looking down in shame. and you let yourself calm down, soften even as you walk towards her, closer until you’re asking for her hands. “i’m worried mina. let me help you”

“you don’t understand” a single tear falls on your hands, now clasped together with hers as she stares at them.

“then tell me. i’ll listen. if you’re scared, i’m here. mina. i love you, i’m done letting you go through this alone” you squeeze her hands, hoping for some sort of emotion, thankfully she squeezes yours back.

“i don’t want the girls to know” she sniffles, watching you nod and swallow a lump in your throat, hoping no tears came out, because you’ve cried enough. you needed to be there like mina had been for you when you needed, loving you through all your hardships.

#twice x y/n #twice x reader #twice imagine #twice blurb #twice imagines #tw disordered eating #mina x reader #mina blurb #mina fluff #twice angst #angst #jinlias 1 year party! #jinlias 1st year! #mnj

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Morpheus/Dream of the Endless Headcanons (General)

‘‘Dream your dreams with me, my Consort.‘‘ - Morpheus/Sandman,

❝⌛— lady l: i couldn't hold myself together and i had to write this, before my ideas ran out, so i did lol. A Morpheus yandere is my new religion and I really liked the result and I hope you like it too! Feedbacks are always welcome and I'm sorry for any mistakes hihi. Good reading!!! <3

tw: yandere themes, obsessive and possessive behavior, uncontrolled jealousy, implied physical aggression (not to the reader), dub-con, mention of murder, threats, slight nsfw, unhealthy relationship, kidnapping, outbursts of rage and non-consensual somnophilia.

❝⌛ pairing: yandere!morpheus/dream of the endless x gender neutral!reader.

Dream can be many things and is given many nicknames that may be conducive to his natural behavior and it never bothered him. He was that way, and end of the story, but when things start to change and he becomes obsessed with a human, the situation spirals out of control. He's never felt like this before, he's never felt so attached, so obsessed with a human and he knows he wants more, he wants to feel more of it and he won't give up on his obsession. He won't give up on you.

Morpheus is thought of as arrogant and obnoxious and part of that is true, it's not like he's going to deny it, he is those things but he often acts like that out of his own carelessness, he's aloof from people and considers himself better than most which causes even more intrigue, but then again, he doesn't care. He is a powerful being, older than the gods themselves, so why should he care what people think of him? That's how he used to think, or he did, until he met you and he really wants to make a good impression on you.

He met you while you were dreaming, it shouldn't be anything important he supposed but he couldn't take his eyes off you. You looked so... Ethereal as you played in the sand in your dream, on a beautiful and lonely beach, but even so, you smiled and played like you didn't care about anything else and he was fascinated. It didn't happen that often and that rarely, but he took an interest in you, he did, and he didn't intend to let you go. You would be perfect, the Consort he longed for.

For a while, Morpheus was content to just watch you. He was always in your dreams, making sure you only have sweet dreams and no terrifying nightmares, your dreams must be perfect. You may have found it strange that your dreams were always so... Sweet, but you didn't complain, it was nice to not wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat anymore. But you felt that there was something wrong, you felt observed, which scared you, but you tried to convince yourself that it was nothing, just your mind playing tricks on you. Oh, how you wish you were right.

He only made himself present in your life after feeling threatened by someone or something. You see, Sandman is proud and from the moment you start spending more time awake than sleeping he will feel threatened, maybe it doesn't make sense, but he doesn't care. Once you were asleep, Morpheus would walk into your room, he would actually be there and watch you. He would ogle you, watching your figure with lust in his eyes, but he wouldn't touch you. He would never do that without your consent. When you woke up and found him sitting next to you in bed, you would be scared, but he just said goodnight and blew sand in your face. When you woke up again, you would be in The Dreaming.

Morpheus would try his best to make you feel comfortable around him, because you would never leave and he wants you to be happy with him. He is obsessive, a hallmark of the Lord of Dreams, Dream will always have his eyes on you, if not his then someone he trusts, like his crow, you will never really be alone. He knows he shouldn't do this but he doesn't care, he'll have you with him and that's it. And woe to anyone who tries to come between you, if he's feeling merciful, death will just be the easiest and quickest of all the things he could do.

Possessiveness is something that is present in your relationship and always will, Morpheus is completely possessive of you, you are his and he will never share you with anyone. He will threaten anyone who dares to look at you any longer than he deems necessary (and he's a big hypocrite about that) and he won't bother tormenting that person's dreams at night with the most terrible nightmares you can muster to imagine. He knows everything about people and he will use that against you if necessary, you are his, you must always remember that. Morpheus won't get violent with you about this, about his ridiculous jealousy, but he will be cooler with you and his anger directed at others.

He is extremely overprotective of you, combining with his possessiveness, he becomes intense and suffocating. Morpheus is very afraid of losing you, he made you immortal but you can still get hurt, you can be captured and he will never let the same thing that happened to him happen to you. And gods have mercy on those who dare to harm you, because Sandman will not. He is suffocating in the extreme, being glued to your side 24 hours a day, when you sleep and dream is when you are most at his mercy. You are cared for and protected by him and always will be, Dream will not allow any harm to happen to you while he exists.

Morpheus is a generous lover, he enjoys both giving and receiving. He takes his time before he finally gets to the end, he likes to finger your folds, lick your nipples and suck your lips like they're the tastiest thing he's tasted, and maybe that's true. Sandman will circle your clit with his tongue, enjoying your slick moans and he will shove two fingers into your pussy, content to hear your name come out of your sinful lips. He won't stop teasing you until you come in his mouth, letting him enjoy his natural juices. Dream will love to suck you, squeezing the glans of your cock and licking it like there's no tomorrow. He'll take you slow and sensual, torturing you until you beg him to fuck you, and as soon as he hears the dirty words fall from your lips, Morpheus will fuck you senseless and hard. He wouldn't stop until both of you were satisfied.

In a more platonic way, Sandman will be more lenient with you, say in terms of freedom, but don't get too carried away, he will never allow you to have a relationship with anyone. He will be even more protective, you are his precious and beloved baby and it is his duty to take care of you and he will. He will always be by your side when you go to sleep and in your dreams, there is never a moment when you have privacy. He always looks out for yours dreams, but if you piss him off, he might end up turning your sweet dreams into your biggest fear. He knows he will scare you, but even so, Morpheus wants you to learn your lesson, that he will not tolerate any form of disobedience from you.

Morpheus has had many romantic relationships in the past and they all ended abruptly and he doesn't handle breakups and rejection well. If you rejected him he wouldn't accept it, he would never accept that you don't want to be with him. He would feel insulted and hurt, as you, a human, had the courage and audacity to refuse him? He can give you anything you want: the universe, the sun, the moon, the stars, anything you want. Can't you see that? That you were made for each other? He will make you see it, he won't let you leave him, you were his the moment he laid eyes on you and from that moment on, you will always be his. He will try to be soft at first, trying to win you over through clumsy but loving affections, but once he realizes that none of that is working, he will go to extreme lengths and can and probably will kidnap you, Morpheus will bring you into his realm, a place you could never be away from him.

The Sandman is many things, he is obsessive, possessive, controlling, overprotective and cold and everything to you. He loves you, he really does, but if you hurt him in any way, the chances are he won't forgive you so easily, if he ever does, don't think wrong, he still won't let you go but he will be colder and spiteful in his approach. Morpheus learned to love you the moment he saw you, he fell hard and obsessively in love and there's no turning back, he won't go anywhere without you with him. It's gotten to the point where he can't do his job properly if he doesn't know you're happy and comfortable, he needs that reassurance, constantly. He sees you as superior to everyone else, he idolizes you and he wants you to be his Consort, he wants to rule The Dreaming with you at his side and he will and no one, not even you, will get in the way of that. He can be everything you dream of, but always remember, he is still one of the Endless and he is extremely dangerous with his obsession with you.

#yandere the sandman #the sandman #yandere morpheus #yandere morpheus x reader #yandere morpheus headcanons #yandere sandman #yandere sandman x reader #yandere sandman headcanons #yandere dream #yandere dream x reader #yandere dream headcanons #so many names lol #yandere headcanons #morpheus x reader #sandman x reader #netflix version #yandere morpheus/sandman #yandere morpheus/sandman x reader #yandere dream of the endless #yandere dream of the endless x reader #sandman #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dark morpheus #dark morpheus x reader #dark!morpheus #dark!morpheus x reader

[fallenwhumpee]

Traitor

• Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Masterlist •

Warnings: This is uuuh... heavier than my usual, and a bit quick in pacing? Probably. Mentioned torture, broken ribs, dysfunctional family, sickfic, intimate whumper, self-destructive behaviour, implied past abuse (in form of training).

"We don't need a babysitter!"

"Hush, you will wake them up."

Leader didn't stir, still pretending to sleep in the uncomfortable position they were stuck. They didn't mean to stay up, they had been awake for longer than they could remember, but the sleep just didn't come.

"They can't just decide for us or tell us what to do. We're not a bunch of newbies," Youngest continued, now more silent.

They... their intention wasn't restrict anyone. They were given to this team because of their ages being close, but even after months together, they felt like an outsider. At least now they knew the reason.

"I know you're still upset for them letting Villain come with us, and I am, too, but this is not the best time to talk. They just did what you wanted with less violence," Medic cut in, more silent.

"Better," Right Hand scoffed. They must be the one who warned Youngest. "But I believe there is another reason. We don't make reports anymore, so who knows which lies Leader fed the agency with? And..."

"And what?"

"There are rumours of a traitor," they finished.

Leader couldn't stop themselves from drawing a sharp breath, but it left unnoticed.

"You think Leader is..." Youngest whispered. "But that's not possible! It's true that they're too serious, but we've been together for so long."

"Yet we know nothing about them," someone finished.

"Leader knew we had a past with Villain, yet Leader let them come our home. They trust Villain for some reason, but..."

"It's concerning. They wouldn't team up with someone tortured them, but we can't be sure, " Medic completed, hesitant.

"We don't know if Whumper did. None of us saw."

Leader didn't know what they did to earn Right Hand's hatred.

"I patched them up myself!"

"Can't it be faked?"

Nothing could've broken Leader's heart more than the deep silence. Leader only wanted to be— what they wanted wasn't important. But for the first time, they thought they could be enough for something.

They couldn't be more wrong.

And not only that, now they looked suspicious to everyone. Just perfect. One more failure to add the never-ending list. Their team distrusted them enough to think they could do such a thing.

It was their fault. They were assigned to a close-knit team, ready to be a family, but Leader was late, and they failed to close the distance and formality.

With time, Leader found themselves negotiating between the agency and the team more often than not. It took them too long to realise that they were only meant to be a bridge, never belonging to a side. It was the only role given to them from both sides. A leash to the team and someone who could get them out of trouble.

Because neither their team nor their superiors were pleased with the results. Their team was reckless, rushing everything and running blindly when one of them was in danger, ignoring everything else. And the agency was too strict, probably looking for the smallest mistake to disband them. Leader was the only thing between, and keeping the balance was starting to cost too much.

The car jolted, Leader hitting their head lightly. They groaned, faking their movements not to give away their involuntarily eavesdrop, and the others just stared at them. No one had the guts to tell all of those to Leader's face, apparently.

-•-

After a long and uncomfortable silence, they were home. They carried Villain to the infirmary without a word to the others. There was no need. Leader had forced them too much and this was the payback. Even if the team didn't think Leader was a traitor, this decision was one thing the team was not ready. It was also the first thing Leader forced them to.

"I'm not looking at them." Medic said firmly as Leader came out. Leader knew what was coming, so they let Medic breathe and waited.

"I'm not looking at them, not after all they had done."

"I just want you to make sure they're not dying." They tried with a soft voice, ignoring a headache starting to bloom in their temples.

"You weren't the one who patched Youngest after everything!" Medic paced in the room shortly, huffing with anger. "You weren't the one who held them as they woke up with nightmares!"

Leader lowered their gaze slightly.

"You weren't there when they broke down and begged us to stop the pain."

No, Leader wasn't. They had done everything to keep Youngest out of Whumper's wrath, rather successfully, but Villain had taken on Youngest a few times Leader wasn't able to take more, especially towards the end. After it, they were too busy with making sure the team was free to look after Youngest, had three meals a day, and kept agency out of their tail while recovering from—

So, no. Leader wasn't there. They had been busy.

"I should remind you that there's someone who possibly needs the same support you have once given to Youngest. But I'm not asking you to do that."

With that, Medic looked away.

"I'm just asking you if they need it. I'm sure it won't be hard to come up with a diagnosis for the meeting. That's your job, isn't it?"

"I will try," Medic answered, voice thick with embarrassment. Good. Leader could now focus on the next thing.

They went to the briefing room as Medic disappeared into the infirmary. The big screen opened with their command, the shadowy silhouettes waiting for them.

The mission report went well, only trouble being Villain. The agency suggested things Leader would never approve. Luckily, their insistence with Medic checking over Villain gave its fruits.

Medic was almost crying as they barged in and told the list of scars and wounds yet to be healed. Too similar to Youngest, they whispered to Leader. If Leader was less than collected, they would let out a long, relieved sigh that Medic wasn't going to argue with Leader's choice about Villain when they woke up. But they were not, and they kept their face straight. There was going to be time to breathe when they were locked and safe in their room.

After Medic, everyone agreed that kindness would be a better approach. Leader couldn't help but let their shoulders slump a bit, knowing they had gotten at least one side's approval.

The call dropped soon after, and Leader felt a movement behind them. Quickly turning, Medic froze on their place, a hand stretched to reach them. Medic drew back without touching, Leader rubbing their one arm subtly to ease their discomfort.

"Villain will wake up soon."

Leader nodded.

"I think it would be better if they saw you first. We had... not the best start."

That was the only apology they were going to have.

They smiled slightly. "Of course. I'll be in infirmary in a moment."

Medic took the dismissal, and Leader slumped the second they left the room. They were too tired to deal with anything, and they knew that if they left the room, another confrontation was inevitable. But this time, they had an evidence for making people understand that Villain had been a victim as much as them, if not more.

With a groan, they pushed themselves back to their feet. They gave themselves a moment to still their trembling limbs. They were going to be alright. With stable steps and even breaths, they marched to the infirmary.

"Medic," they greeted. "What do you have for me?"

"Too much, too little. We're fine, Youngest is a little unsettled, but no injuries. You would better avoid Right Hand. They are just a little overprotective of Youngest and reasonably angry because of al lof this, you know."

Leader nodded them to go on.

"For Villain, nothing broken, but so much bruises. Wrongly healed wounds... knife marks, and..."

"I do not need a full report." They cut to save Medic from telling more. Whip marks, electrocution, possibly some nerve damage. Leader recognised some of the scars. Too similar to— they had to focus. "Tell me if they will recover, and when they will wake up?"

"I did my best. And I can't tell. If you don't want me to restrain them, you should stay here. It's nearly dinner time and you know we always eat together."

"Yes, alright. I'll stay here. You enjoy your meal." They swallowed the bitterness. There was no need to get upset. They had never been 'we' with the team.

"Good. Let me know if they wake up."

Leader sat to a chair, and at some point, everything blended into each other as they felt their body weight down and pull them deeper towards the silent lullaby their mind chanted.

Blinking, they cursed themselves for nearly drifting off on watch, the first thing they remembered being trusted with in a long time. They stood absurdly, ignoring the dizziness and shaking their head until their vision cleared.

A cry drew their attention, and they made their way to the bed, pushing down the panicking Villain.

"Calm down," they tried, gentle. They always thought they would be doing this to their teammates, not the enemy.

Surprisingly, Villain listened.

"I'll call Medic, is it alright?"

Villain nodded. Leader would like to keep being kind, but they had to get something out of this, or they were both doomed.

They pressed the call button and leaned over Villain.

"I will be honest," Leader started. "I told my higher ups that you're valuable, and I need to give them something soon. Anything works. A name, a place. Even just the numbers of Whumper's forces. I'm sure you understand that I don't want to gain information in other ways. Despite my job, I hate seeing blood."

"I see," Villain whispered, perhaps too stunned. Leader was bad at dealing with people. "I will help."

"Thank you."

-•-

Weeks after accepting Villain, Leader found themselves more tired than ever, with agency pressing for any information and the team having an awkward time with Villain hanging around freely.

Medic was first to warm to the newest addition, even if only a little, so it was weird to hear Villain laugh when Leader knew Medic was away.

Leader made their way to the common space but stopped at the doorframe, too stunned from seeing Youngest of all people sitting and laughing with Villain.

With a relieved sigh, Leader made their way to the kitchen, ignoring the jealousy starting to bloom in their chest. It took Leader months to get a genuine laugh from Youngest.

They buried the tought immediately.

Instead, they focused on what to cook, repetitive movements carrying their thoughts away. They had some time until the agency gave them their next instructions, and they needed peace if they wanted to keep going.

And probably some rest, considering how tired and sore they felt. They were leaning on the counter but still felt too heavy on their feet, struggling to focus.

"What are you doing?"

Leader flinched, taken off guard by the sudden appearance of Right Hand. "Cooking," they answered honestly, not wishing to talk about anything else.

"I mean what do you think you are doing?!" Right Hand snarled. "You just left Youngest alone with them."

"I didn't want to disturb them. They looked like they were having fun."

"Why do you refuse to see? Villain is evil."

"Would you torture me to save Youngest?" Leader asked, cutting sharply. They wouldn't normally do that, but the topic wasn't about them. It was Villain, and someone had to stand up for them. Right Hand frowned as a response.

"Would you?" Leader asked again. If they had said Medic instead of themselves, Right Hand would think. But the answer was obvious.

"Yes," came finally, after so long that Leader thought they would only stare. "But that's irrelevant."

"Why?" Leader asked, but this time they answered themselves. "Because Youngest is family, and one should do everything to keep their family safe." They stopped for a second to let it sink. "That was exactly what Villain was doing. Whumper had their family as a hostage."

"It's not the same! And it doesn't excuse what they did."

"No it doesn't," they turned their head, staring to Right Hand. "But it means you can't judge them solely from their actions. What do you see when you look at them and Youngest?"

They were cut by a notification, an unknown number texting them an address. Leader deleted it before Right Hand could see, but it only earned a suspicious glare. They cursed to themselves, apologising and leaving with a rush. They had to be at the other side of the city in half an hour.

-•-

"You make me look suspicious," Leader greeted Mentor, not caring about their attitude. There had been a time they would tremble with Mentor's one word, but they grew up. Sometimes, Mentor still tried to order them around, but Leader was getting better at standing against those. On a good note, it made Mentor proud, to see Leader managing on their own. At least, that was what Leader wanted to think.

"That's no proper way to greet someone."

"Neither appearing years later with only a location to go is. Just tell me why you came back," they replied back.

"They're suspicious. Wanted me to get a hold of you." Mentor looked just as Leader remembered. Not even a day older.

"You don't trust me," Leader hid the hurt tone in their voice with a fake anger. They weren't supposed to feel hurt. Mentor and them never had a close relationship, and they shouldn't have assumed Mentor would side with them over the agency.

"You're no traitor. But someone working directly above you is."

Mentor's confident tone was the only thing they needed to relax completely.

"I taught you. You can't be a traitor. However, I don't trust you to do what the agency wants you to do."

"And what is it?" they asked. They knew the answer already but had to hear from Mentor.

"They think you are too slow with the progress with Villain."

"I won't torture them," was their immediate answer.

"No, you won't. I would be more concerned if you obeyed the agency this time. I didn't raise a monster. But you have to find a solution. The higher-ups need something in exchange if you want to keep Villain."

So Leader did.

In six hours, Leader was back with the information and a promise to Villain that there was no cleaning duty for a week. They desperately wanted to sleep, their throat hurting from talking too much while interrigating Villain. They needed something warm, free of caffeine despite it being the only way to keep themselves awake at that point. They had texted the emergency number in their contacts, and another location dropped in. This time, it was close enough to walk, and the fresh air was like a blessing to the warm feeling clinging them.

"You look awful," Mentor greeted.

"That's where I learned greeting," Leader muttered.

"I thought you had passed your moody phases by now."

"You look old, but I neither tell this as a greeting nor to your face," they countered. They were sleepy, and they were less tolerant of Mentor, given... everything that happened between them.

"I taught you some respect," Mentor scoffed, sitting down. "Anyway, tell me what you have."

You would look like this if you had everyone breathing down on your neck too.

Leader bit back those words and put a smile on their face with a subtle deep breath.

"I know where Whumper's bases are."

-•-

Leader sank into their blanket, hoping to catch some break. Their blanket was too warm, causing them to realise how cold they were before with the chills wrecking them.

They were soon asleep, but sleeping until morning would be a miracle. Their door was banged before the sun was up.

Leader sat up slowly, their head pounding and vision blurring. The door opened before they could answer, and Right Hand came in with a concerned expression.

"What happened?" Leader croaked, shaking their head slightly to get rid of the exhaustion.

"Agency is making an emergency call."

That was not unexpected, but Leader hoped that it could wait until the morning. Right Hand's expression turned into annoyed with Leader's slow movements. Leader would care, but they felt too sore.

Right Hand let them be, and Leader opened their wardrobe—all black and hard to see in dark. They found their sweatshirt with little struggle, and got dressed. The mere action was enough to leave them exhausted, but they forced themselves to go on.

With the headquarters being close and hour being too early, they walked there at a steady pace. Leader found the once soothing wind freezing, their focus slipping every once in a while.

This continued through the meeting, too, much to their annoyance. Luckily, it was for a coordinated attack on Whumper's forces, and Leader knew every detail of it.

But their eye catched Mentor in the corner, staring directly to them. Mentor disappeared when Leader blinked, and Leader went out right after with a swear.

Following the doors opening and closing, they caught up Mentor in a small briefing room. They coughed as they tried to calm their breaths, their lungs burning with the effort.

"Don't tell me you are out or practise," Mentor didn't even spare a look to Leader bending slightly to their knees, drawing strength from the nearby table.

"Just tired," Leader countered as soon as their coughs subdued, leaving them quite drained. But they couldn't let themselves drop to the chair, a warmth they hadn't felt since their trainee days creeping up. Embarrassment.

They were glad that their hair was covering their ears.

"I, too, am tired but perfectly capable of a little chase. Now listen up because you're going to take one of the bases."

You can't be serious, Leader bit back. They sat down right after Mentor, trying not to make it look like they collapsed, but their mind stuck. No one could handle a base all by themselves.

"It is relatively a small one, at the outskirts of the city. You just have to blow up the foundation of it. Explosives are already prepared, and your truck is ready."

"I..." Leader didn't think they could do it alone, but also they couldn't voice their concern. They were given an order. "What about— what about my team?"

"They're out under someone else's command. And I'm afraid it will stay like that until the agency is clear that you're no traitor."

"This is a trick," they murmured, their controle slipping for a moment. Mentor's gaze softened, and Leader immediately hated the pity. "If I survive, I'm the traitor. How can I prove myself?"

"Just do your job as told. I know you won't let me down and this ridiculous matter will slove itself."

Leader opened their mouth to protest, but a wheeze escaped.

"Are you alright?" Mentor asked immediately. The concern in their voice was foreign. Mentor had never been worried about Leader before.

"Yes," they answered firmly. Mentor reached out to them, but Leader didn't let them. Leader knew they would fall apart at the smallest break they were given. They were in a bad shape, with how emotional and tired they felt, unbecoming of the person they were. They could push through those usually, and crumbling beneath pressure was never an option, until recently.

"Are you sure—"

"I said yes. If this is to relieve your coinscience, i dont need it now. I'm fine and I will do as you told." They cut sharply. I needed when I was young, went unsaid.

Mentor stated silent, and Leader took their leave.

-•-

Leader approached the base with a calculated yet faltering steps, the burdens of exhaustion and their nervousness weighing them down. Each step felt like an eternity, and Leader had to steady themselves against the structure's cold exterior to prevent a fall.

As they worked to plant the explosives, Leader's trembling hands fumbled with the devices. Their body screamed for rest, and the piercing pain in their temples seemed to meld with the weak thud of their heartbeats.

Still, the job had to be done.

But time was a cruel master, and as Leader tried to slip away from the base, they stumbled into the watchful eyes of Whumper's men. It was a trap, and the moment they realized it, it was too late.

Leader found themselves surrounded, their weapon useless with an empty magazine and weak. Panic gnawed at their chest as they faced their captors, a mocking smirk playing on their faces.

But what drained Leader's spirit more was the unexpected appearance of Whumper himself. The cold, empty eyes that had haunted Leader for so long now stared directly into their soul.

"You look even more pathetic than the last time we crossed paths, Leader," Whumper sneered, his voice a chilling echo in the dimly lit space. "Did your agency finally realize you're a little sick puppy? Kicked you to our doorstep, did they?"

Leader tried to summon the strength to respond, but their voice came out as a mere rasp.

Whumper's laughter, a guttural, unsettling sound, filled the room. "I see you've lost your bite, too. How the mighty have fallen."

Whumper's chilling laughter echoed through the room as he closed in on Leader, his shadow casting a sinister presence. "It's almost poetic, isn't it? The great Leader, broken and defeated. What does your precious agency think about you now?"

Leader's voice was hoarse, but there was a spark of determination in their eyes. "They think... they think I'll get the job done."

Leader's vision began to blur as Whumper's men pulled them up.

"You see, Leader," Whumper whispered, leaning closer to their ear, "yoi resort to lies you want to believe. You've failed. But you don't cry. No. Thats not who you are."

Whumper pushed them to the wall from their neck, and Leader gasped, struggling to breathe.

"Any other person would be crying for their teammates or trainers. But you don't have anyone to cry. You are truly alone, and you know it.

Leader knew they wouldn't survive this, but they'd be damned if they didn't take Whumper down with them.

With one final act of defiance, Leader reached to their pocket. They hit Whumper, slipping a tracker to their sleeve as they pushed the remote, triggering a series of explosives placed throughout Whumper's hideout. The chain reaction of blasts tore through the structure, bringing it crumbling down.

Leader's vision blurred, and their body went limp as debris rained down around them.

-•-

When Leader's tracker went on, Mentor's heart stuttered.

They realised something was wrong when Leader didn't check in for transport. And the tracker could only mean that Whumper got away. Leader would never use it if it weren't for last resort.

"They must have let Whumper run away," one mused next to them from the operation centre.

"No," they whispered. "Something— something is not right. I'm getting them back."

They motioned to their friend, knowing they would need help.

#whump #whump writing #leader whumpee #leader whump #tw torture #broken bones #broken ribs #dysfunctional family #sickfic #intimate whumper #self destructive behavior #implied past abuse #no this wasnt actually how tired i felt ever since the beginning of the month #sorry for taking so long #but been so busy #and feeling sick even after recovering #queue

[footballfanficwriter]

Fights turns into nightmares

Summary:where Jude and the reader get into a fight

"Why do you always pester me Jude"

"I'm not, I'm just asking questions"

"Why do you not trust me, I promise you it was nothing"

"It didn't look like nothing y/n he had his hands all over you"

"Yeah but I stopped him from touching me"

"You looked like you enjoyed it"

"If I enjoyed it I wouldn't have stopped him"

" it still happened though and I'm not happy about it"

"Did you think I was happy when I saw that girl's hands all over you huh?"

"That was nothing"

"Exactly, just like this event that took place it was nothing"

"But it's different"

"How is it different"

" because he could easily take advantage of you"

"Yeah but he didn't"

"But he could've"

"Jude, you're overeating"

"I'm not overreacting"

"For goodness sake Jude stop, what is the matter huh?, it seems like you've got a problem with everything I do nowadays, if it's not me cooking then it's the fact that I forgot to fold the laundry, if it's not that then it's me not spending time with you, what do you want from me?"

"I want you too do the things you're suppose to do"

"Oh yeah and what is that exactly"

"I bring most of the income in this family, I pay a huge amount of money to sustain our way of living"

"Really is that what we're doing now, comparing our salaries?"

"Mine is higher than yours, so yeah"

"Ok, the reason why I forgot to fold the laundry, cook and spend time with you is because, I've had a shit ton of work that needed to be done, I get pressured and stressed by my boss then I come back home to a person whose upset with me, it's not fair Jude"

"I get stressed as well, you know"

"That, that right there is why I can't approach you anymore and am scared to Express my feelings ,you always turn the conversation back to you and make it about yourself"

"All I said was that I get stressed as well, what am i not allowed to be stressed?"

"That's not what I'm say"

"Then what are you saying"

"I'm saying that when you feel stressed or when you feel down, I always comfort and make sure you feel better about yourself, but when the shoe is on the other foot, you can't do the same"

"How am I suppose to comfort you, if I don't know you need comforting"

"Well maybe if you asked me how I am, you'd know, everytime I try and tell you about my feelings, you always shut me down"

"WELL, QUIET FRANKLY I DON'T CARE, I'M TIRED OF YOU, YOU AND YOUR FEELINGS"

There's a silence between us and I look at him with a hurt expression and he looks at me with a shocked one

"Babe I-I didn't mean it, that's not what I meant to sa-" he tries to step closer to me and I pull back

" yeah but you still said it"

"Babe I didn't mea-"

"I think we should get some space from eachother for a while"

"Y/-"

"I'll sleep in the guest room"

I walked to our room and grabbed my pajamas and all the things I might need for a few days and went to the guest room

As I open the door to leave I find Jude standing there

"I'm sorry" he says

" ok" I say and walk past him

"Does that mean you forgive me?" He asks as I walk away and slam the door

I go to the guest bedroom where I do my night routine

After doing that I make the bed so I can sleep and get comfortable

I get into the bed and try to fall asleep, but recent events keep replaying in my head, preventing me from sleeping

After a while I find myself unintentionally crying not knowing where the tears have come from all of a sudden

It's been 2 hours since I got into bed 30 minutes later I hear Jude screaming from the other room

I quickly get out out of the room and race to see what's happening in the room

When I enter I see Jude sweeting and him tossing and turning and mumbling words

.

I'm frozen for a second but quickly snap back to reality and attempt to wake him up

"Jude"

"Jude wake up"

"Jude come on"

After not being able to wake him up I make him sit up and shake his body, all that seems to do the trick because he wakes up with sweat on his forehead , wide red eyes and heavy breathing and panting, just like a dog would

"Y/n you're here?"

"Yeah I'm here, where would I be"

"I-I thought I had lost you, it was so real it all felt so real"

"Well it's not ok it wasn't real"

A-Are you crying" he says noticing my red eyes

"N-No, I'm not crying"

"Y/n stop, you don't have to pretend that you're not hurting" he says

"Jude, I'm perfectly fine"

"No, you're not, I've hurt you so much in our relationship,that you don't even feel comfortable coming to talk to me about your feelings, I'm so sorry I truly am, and I didn't mean what I said, when i said I don't care about your feelings"

"It's ok"

"I'll do better, for you, it's the least I can do considering everything you do for me"

"Are you ok?" I ask

"Yeah I'll be fine, I guess it was just a nightmare"

"About what?"

"I dreamt that we had an argument, that ended up with you dead because- because I had killed you, I just I don't want to be a monster, I don't want to you to end up being afraid of me"

"I'm not afraid of you Jude, I just want you to be there for me the way I'm there for you, I know you're stressed with everything that's going on right now, but I feel like you're neglecting me or that you don't want me anymore"

"Ofcourse I want to be with you babe, i just never thought you needed all of the attention, you seemed to be doing just fine with everything happening in our lived, I just didn't think you'd want my attention and affection"

"I do Jude, I really do"

"And I'll give it too you"

"Thank you"

I get of the bed and start walking towards the door

"Y/n"

"Yeah?"

"Please stay, babe, please stay with me"

"Ok I'll stay with you"

I walk to the bed and get into bed and snuggle up to him and he puts an arm around me and kisses my forehead

"Goodnight Babe"

"Night Jude"

#football fanfic #romance #world cup #x reader #fan fiction #football #love #soccer fanfiction #imagine #reader #jude x reader #jude victor william bellingham #jude #jude bellingham fanfiction #jude bellingham #judebellingham #bellingham #romantic #reading #lovers #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fic #soccer fan fiction #football fanfiction #xreader #jude bellingham x you #englandsquad #england #hot footballers

[rkivepetals]

The secret history

chapter fourteen.

Series master list

Main master list

My flaws are deeper than your wounds.

Jungkook X fem!reader ft.all bts members

Genre: dark/gothic academia, slow romance, forced marriage, mystery, thriller (??) found family and Greek mythology.

Wc: 4.2k

Mentions of blood, drinking etc.

"You have fucked up," Yoongi said to me as I sighed, glaring at the wine bottle in front of me. "You shut up. You've no idea." I said to him, he sneered and shifted in his seat. "You're pissed and wack y/n. You've completely lost it. Absolute edge." I took the wine bottle and filled my glass, "a man will always stand for small little pathetic men. Knew it." This time he laughs.

"You accused him of murder, being a creature, called him names, threatened to kill him. And you're saying he is pathetic? You are pathetic, and weak and believe whatever makes your boat float and not sink." He taunted, "Can you shut up for a second? I'm trying to think." He sips his wine, "don't think. Don't wonder."

I exhale and sink into my seat. I was at his house, completely drunk, restless and lost. I didn't know what to do anymore. "I had proof, and I only believe in what is true to me. Not on words, or eyes, or faces. They're all liars. Especially that man." I point a finger, "he's the most flawless liar I've ever seen in my life." My heart stings thinking about the time he said he loved me and then quickly denied it.

"You're crying." Yoongi drunkenly burps.

"I'm not." Though I did feel hot tears at the brim of my eyes.

He exhaled, "Why don't you go and talk to him? You're very good at it."

"I will only go see him once I have a plan to get rid of his existence."

He sneered, "You're crazy."

I rub my face harshly, trying to sober myself up. My phone buzzed on the side as I picked it up, "hello there." "Y/n?" Mrs. Jeon's voice softly calls out. I stare at yoongi, throat clenching at the loss of words to say. "Yeah?" I say, "You're not home honey?" I clear my throat, "No I'm not. Why? Are you there?" I asked.

"Yeah, I came to talk to you. It's been weeks, where are you can I meet you right now?" I lick my lips and glance at the clock, then see around his house to just spot wine bottles and trash. "I don't think so." I say after a big pause, "Oh." Her voice quickly fell, almost similar to my mother's. "I...I can send you the address. It's a little far."

I had already regretted what I said abruptly as yoongi raised his brows at me. "Sure. I can come, don't worry." I hang up and send her the address. I exhaled, "Who the fuck is coming to my house without my consent?" Yoongi curses, "Mrs. Jeon. C'mon, we need to clean this up." I whisper and start stumbling out and picking up the bottles.

After shoving yoongi into his bedroom to sleep, I washed my reddened face and brushed my teeth to avoid any embarrassment of drinking endlessly like some bitch who's melancholic since 1964. Soon enough the door knocked as I wore my glasses and opened it. She smiled, "Welcome." I said as she stepped her feet inside.

She exhaled and sat on Yoongi's clean couches. "Do you want something to drink?" I asked, "No no, it's fine. Have a seat, I want to talk." She ushers as I slightly shiver, sitting across her. "How are you now? It's been weeks since we last saw you in the mansion." I nod, "I'm fine now, it's over."

She sighs, "Jungkook misses you a lot. He told me he'd visit you often but for a few days he's not even talking about you. Everything's fine?" I hum and nod, "he respects my space." She smiled, "Y/n, I think you should come back now. If not for your husband for me, please. Even your dad misses your presence these days, and Jung Kook has been so off." I exhaled.

I didn't know what to say, "We're not pushing you, but it would be for the best since Christmas is near and so is your father-in-law's birthday. We have a ball every year on his birthday. Trust me, it's so fun." She pressed with a comforting smile on her face. I shrug, "I'll think about it." She nods, "I'm so sorry for your loss too. I didn't know she was your real mother and—" "It's fine." I nod, "really."

She smiles, "is this..." she trailed off, looking around.

"This is my friend's house. We were having a couple of drinks." I blink repeatedly.

She nods, "one of jungkook's friends lives near this area too. He recently visited him. Do you live here?"

I shake my head, "No. I just came for drinks. I'll be...going home."

She nods, "All alright then. I should leave, it's late."

It was almost twelve, "yeah. I'll probably sleep here tonight if he lets me. You should go now, it's late." I didn't press her to stay even a second more.

She got up, with her luxury purse as her heels knocked on the wood floor, walked towards the door, "Good night, y/n. And please reconsider." I nod as she leaves, I shut the door and press my forehead into it, "Jesus."

I immediately sprint to Yoongi's bedroom and I knock before opening it wide, "Jungkook came here." I say, stern and loud as yoongi shifts on his bed. "Yeah! He did!" He blabbers drunkenly as I sigh, "A pathetic man for another one."

I ended up at his door. Staring at it, taking and leaving breaths. I hear shuffling, something hard dropping on the floor as I make a light fist of my hand. Nail polish chipped as I took that fist up on the door, slightly squirming at my chest flipping constantly like a rotten egg fried, I gulped. I knock.

I heard sloppy footsteps as he unlocked his bedroom door. I bit my lips slightly at his face. Has Jungkook always looked so puffed out? Was his cheeks always this big? And his nose sharp? And his eyes, looked dilated, though they glared into my face. "What way did you choose to kill me?"

He says in a low voice, not Loud, not a whisper. Just a low deep voice. I was too intoxicated in his eyes and face to think about that. I finally look into his eyes, more in a talkative manner. Not in a yearning one. "Stabbing you in your sleep." I replicate his whisper-like quiet voice as he leans on the door frame. I clench my fist and aim to go inside but he stops me.

Leaning on the other side as his lips turned upward in the slightest bit, he grabbed my wrist when I tried to push him away, and leaned his face closer as I coherently backed away, "Not allowed." He whispered as I tried to move my face away from his, he was so close. So close that I could smell his doughnut flavour and perfume, and even the detergent in his clothes. His shampoo even.

"I need to get my things." I blink, suddenly feeling awkward to meet his eyes.

"Still not allowed."

He was so close that I could hear the clashes of our necklaces, "I'm your wife, I have every right in your room."

"Hmm?" His brows suddenly turned up, I felt something tickling in my thighs, my core, and my lower stomach, I felt like peeing. "Are ya?"

His hold slightly loosens at my wrist, why the fuck he isn't mad at me? "Jungkook move, I want to go inside." I tried to push him but his hold tightened and made my hands lay down.

"Say please."

"Are you crazy? Move."

"Uh-huh, say. Please." He pulled me even closer if that was even possible.

I suddenly feel my legs weak, feeling his nose brush mine, eyes piercing into my soul and unfolding my deepest secrets. I move my head to the side, embarrassed. Lips slightly twitching to say what he wants. It's one of those times you know what you want to say, but your throat doesn't clench to voice it out. It's that embarrassing.

I huff, "Jesus." I whispered, I sighed, looking at his face, "Please." His lips turned into a vile smirk as he left my wrist, giving me space to leave. Unfortunately, our necklaces collide and tangled into each other. Again. I moved my head to the side to get rid of the Knot, I bumped into his hard, round head. "Ow."

I whisper, "Move." He harshly pushed me into the doors, "Jesus, what are you going?" I asked, holding onto his shoulders for immediate support. He bents, placing his palm on the door behind me, still staring into my eyes as I suddenly forget how my breathing system works. How to breathe? Genuinely.

He takes the knotted necklaces in his mouth, my fingers clench on his shoulders as he uses his clawed teeth to get rid of the knot. He removed the tangle easily as I kept staring into his eyes, lips slightly apart, drying my mouth. He stared back, amused. We stared at each other, for five minutes. Eight minutes? I don't know.

"It's done." He ushered, more quiet than ever. Like telling me a secret.

I didn't move my gaze, didn't even blink. "Oh is it?"

"Hmm."

His hum buzzed right between my thighs, and I clenched. "Oh. I...okay." I pushed him away and rushed inside the room, suddenly feeling sweaty. I immediately move to the dressing area and wipe my sweat, "Jesus Christ." I fan myself. Clearing my throat, I opened my wardrobe and started taking my clothes out. 

My fingers and hands eventually came to a halt. A sudden turmoil growing in the middle of me, I don't feel good. I slightly cough, putting away my sweaters somewhere and sitting on the dressing table. Rubbing my cheeks and neck anxiously, though I didn't know why I was even anxious in the first place. Someone knocked on the wooden door, "your tailor is here."

Jungkook's stern and cold voice buzzed across the room, and before I could even open my mouth to reply, I rushed to the sink and threw up. Hard, gawking, spiralling, smelly red vomit. After hearing my violent choking scream and coughing, the door opened and jungkook rushed in right beside me. I had already wiped my face.

"Are you okay?" I looked at him, a little dizzy, glasses off, face blurry, "I threw up blood." I whisper and stumble over nothing. He caught my arm and pulled me back, and he sighed. "I think you should get checked by a doctor. It's important." He insists as I shake my head, "No, I'm..." I walk and sit on a stool.

"I'm fine," I say as I sneak my hands on my shoulders and start rubbing there anxiously, eventually unbuttoning my shirt and sliding off my bra straps to just rub the itchiness off my body. I grunt, furiously rubbing my ears, my neck, hands, cheeks, and the back of my head. "Aye, I think I should leave."

Jungkook awkwardly starts walking to the exit, glancing at the way I was rubbing myself off, clothes almost slipping. He halts, "y/n I don't think you're fine." He sits ahead of me on his knees, pupils expanded at my sight. "I don't know!" I yell out frustrated. Then I heard it, I heard the voices.

A ring so violent of silence ran through me, numbing my Brain, my ears pained like godforsaken hell. I scream, "Ah!" It became violent, whisperings, cries of women, of children, more whispering. I screamed louder, covering my ears, "Stop it! Fucking stop it!" I jump in thin air, pushing jungkook to stop the voices.

"They will come again." "Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop it!" Tears flowed in my ears as I violently clutched my ears till my nails dug, and jungkook held me. Tight, shaking me, "y/n! Y/n!" He yelled at me loudly as I looked at his face. Shaky breathes and hands, "Did you hear them?! They're..they're!" "Y/n!"

Jungkook yelled so loud I stood stunned in my posture, the voice faded, the ring stopping eventually. Our breath echoes in the space, he held my cheeks tightly. I blink, ever so slowly. Registering the moment, just then I feel something snap in the back of my mind. A burning pain crawls its way to my nose, tears form in my eyes.

Jungkook's gaze moved from my eyes to my nose and then to the ground. I felt something wet run down and then I tasted the metallic taste of blood, I glanced down, my hands red. "My...god," Jungkook whispered as tears streamed down my cheeks, and he panicked. Yet again, trying to stop the bleeding, "Y/n please don't faint! You can't faint!"

I shook my head, blood still dripping down from my nose as if a tap had been opened. "I don't know," I whispered as he held me in his arms and ran to the bedroom, my vision kept blurring more and more. He laid me down on the familiar bed, "Madam isn't doing well right now, tomorrow!" He says to the tailor sitting in the corner who confusedly stared between us.

"I said leave!" And he took his leave. I clutched the sheets as jungkook came with a cotton swab and held my head, inching it upwards and shoving it in my right nostril. "Stop crying!" He says the panic dropped from his words on my face. "I'm not crying the tears won't stop!" I say, feeling a knot in my throat.

"I feel like throwing up." I clutch his sleeves, eyes shut. "Do whatever the fuck you want to just don't faint! You woke up eight days late since the last time you bled from your nose before fainting!" I cough, still clutching the sheets and his sleeves. "I'm trying!" He swapped the drenched cotton swab with a new one.

"You're going to be fine." He breathed heavily and wiped the tears constantly running down my hot eyes. I felt his fingers sneaking into mine, and my eyes opened. I stare at the familiar ceilings, my heart burning with warmth. Jungkook held my hand. Jungkook held my hand. I held it tight, trying not to smile as l licked my salty lips.

I don't know what this is, but it's...so pleasant. So sweet. Like the first sip of my favourite tea. A sip of wine is not enough to make you drunk, but enough to make you lose your mind.

My eyes opened with a knock, I slowly got up, fingers hurting at how tightly I held his sleeve. Jungkook was gone. Out of sight, I exhaled and got up. Opening the door, I was met with an unfamiliar face. "Mrs. Jeon, Madam Jeon is asking for you." The girl-like woman smiled and took her leave. I stood there for a moment, processing the previous horrible situation I was in.

"You're going to stand here for another hour?" I looked up at jungkook, slightly glaring, I blinked and gave him space to go inside. "Do you ever even work?" I taunted, he sneered. "I have a leave today. My boss is getting married." "It's a government job." He sighed, and turned to me, "If you do not like me, then say it to my face."

I clicked my tongue, "It's not like I don't like you."

He raised his brow,

"I mean yes I don't like you. But I'm just y'know, I'm just, asking you. You don't seem to work that well. You earn money in this house so."

He sneered, "So?"

"You're not worried about you losing your job?"

"No. And if I'd have to worry about something, that's you."

I shrug, "And I'd be worried about how you cry over your ex-girlfriend."

"I did not cry over her!"

I squint my eyes,

"Yes, I did cry! But not over her!"

I sigh, "All alright." I went to the washroom and washed my face with water. Changing into a pair of good clothes that did'nt show off my chest that violently. After deciding on a dark red sweater and a pair of jeans I hadn't worn in ages, I brushed my hair to the side and wore my glasses. "Where are you going?"

I stopped and looked at him, toes squirming in my socks at the sight of a laptop and glasses resting on his nose. "Your mom asked for me." He quickly looked at me, slightly taken aback. "I'm coming with you." He says and removes his glasses, opening his small brown wardrobe of childhood and taking out lenses. "You have got a prescription?"

He nods, wearing his lenses. "Minus two." I go and lean on the wardrobe watching him struggle to put on his lenses. My lips slightly curled at his scent, "when?" He made a face that made me sneer and smile wide at how hilarious it was. He halts, and looks at me, "Why am I even telling you this? I'm supposed to be mad at you." I shrug, "Then why are you coming with me?"

He successfully puts in his one eye, "because it's my mom." I rolled my eyes and started walking downstairs, quickly enough followed by loud thumps turned soft steps. As soon as I entered the living area, all I saw were wrapped up boxes in gift paper, and a Christmas tree being placed by some workers. "Good evening!"

Mrs. Jeon's voice echoed as jungkook plopped on the couch, taking what looked like a chocolate. "Good evening," I say and sit beside his sprawled legs. "Oh dear, I've missed you so much. You truly light up the mansion with your presence." She smiles brightly as I slightly curl my lips. "All she did was rot in my room when she was here."

Junglook says and I give it to him. Apparent enough. "Shut up! Don't be mean to her! As if you weren't a teenage boy crying over separation when she was gone!" Now that was truly shocking. I looked at jungkook, and he defensively got up on the couch, "Stop lying Mom!" In my experience, to anyone who lied more than jungkook, was jungkook.

She just laughed loudly making him all sulky and lay back, hiding his face with a pillow. I didn't say anything, I didn't like this awkward-some conversation. "Why did you ask for me?" I asked, she stopped and sighed. "The tailor came but you didn't give him your measurements?" I recall, "Oh, yes!"

She smiled and tightened. "I know, the Tailor told me everything. He saw you two—" "he saw what?" Jungkook jumps, back straight, concerned. "Uh.." she exhaled, "do you want me to say it in words?" I frowned, absolutely confused. "What do you mean? What did he tell you?" "He saw her bleeding?!"

Jungkook points at me as she gasps aloud, "You let him stay that long?! And honey, are you okay?! Bleeding?! Are you crazy jungkook? Respect at least her privacy you scoundrel!" Me and jungkook looked at each other, confused. "I'm fine but what did he even see?!" She sighs, "he saw that you two both were in a position of um..intimacy and he didn't even tell him to leave!"

"I did tell him to leave!" Jungkook yelled,

"And we were not in a position of intimacy!" I matched his tone and loudness.

She blinked and exhaled, "Jesus Christ what is happening in this house?" I awkwardly clear my throat, "so you asked for me to discuss this?" She clicked her tongue, "Ah yes, I forgot. Your father-in-law and Christ share the same birthday. So there's going to be a huge ball full of big guests on Christmas. And that's why I got the tailor to make you a custom dress but he.." she shakes her head in disappointment.

I sigh, "Then I'll take my leave." I said and decided to get up until she said something that made my blood boil in pure silence of refusal. "Why don't you and Jungkook go to his designer friend's boutique tomorrow? He makes exceptional pieces! And he's jungkook's close guy. Hmm?" I don't say anything and glance at Jungkook who seemed to be tired of this.

"Fine, we will." My glance turned into a glare as I got up, "I'm in my room." I said and walked away, greeting Mr. Jeon on the way.

"Where were you?" Jungkook asked me as soon as I stepped inside the room. I frowned, "why do you care?" I say, removing my muffler and shoes. "Where were you, y/n?" He asks again, standing on his balcony. It was around twelve and a half at night. Yoongi's words rang through me, "apologise to him. He doesn't deserve the unnecessary bullshit you'd put him through all this time."

I exhaled, playing with my nails anxiously. "At my friend's." I lied. I almost took a step toward the dressing area but then my feet unwillingly dragged me right beside him. I gulped at the familiar bvlgari scent of his. Hair shiny, eyes sparkling, jaw straight fuller cheeks, slenderer nose, soft lips and stained hands of paint. A white sheer shirt with a floral collar hung on his torso like some sort of hanger or mannequin not fit for the shirt.

Jungkook was truly a magical man. He exhaled like some magical creature that had glitter all over it. "Can I ask you a question y/n?" He softly says, still not looking at me. I follow his gaze and end up at the full moon that shone graciously in the dark blue sky void of stars. "No questions."

The word I didn't want to say yet went back and forth on the tip of my tongue. Sorry. I wanted to say sorry but I couldn't bring myself to do it. "I'm gonna ask this anyway." He says and finally looks at me. I blinked, suddenly feeling again like some piece of judgement served out on a fancy platter. "If I..." he whispers, "if I hadn't said that morning that I'm kidding, would you...would you think of me in that way?"

My heart dropped into my stomach and down my core. I had expected a lot of things from Jungkook to say directly, but god forbid not that morning. I didn't know what to say. Yes? No? I was unsure what reaction I'd get if I even answered or didn't. So I choose not to. "Um. I'm sleepy."

I say and my ankles turn, though he held my wrist. "Don't go." He said as I looked at his face, "I'm not going anywhere I'm——" he pulled me which made me eventually stop and keep quiet. I gulped at his sight, I had never seen Jungkook so miserable yet haughty. "You and I, we both know that you don't sleep at night."

He whispered as my lips slightly fell apart. "You think. You wonder." My fist clenched at how close I felt to him. Not just physically but emotionally, he was just as aware of me as I was of him. He slowly took his fingers and hooked them around my glasses, pulling them down my face. He stared at my face for a moment before I felt his fingers creeping up from my neck to my cheeks.

He leaned in, head tilting, and tears formed in my eyes. My arms trembled, another turmoil born so deep and quick it wounded my heart with anxiety. Before his lips could touch mine I push him away harshly. He stood still, hands still sprawled out, paint on his fingers. I felt even more terrible at the moment because, in my eyes, I hurt Jungkook. Very badly.

His nose slightly flares as he pushes my body against the ceiling in fury. I stared at him, scrunching his face in pain. "Why do you do this y/n?! Just why do you?!" He groaned, "You know why I asked you that question? Because I love you! I fucking love you! I can't stop thinking about you! The way you are or the way you...you y/n! You're the problem! You make me lose my mind and I cannot afford it! I cannot afford to go feral over you if I can't have you! You—"

"Do you think it's easy?" He sushed quietly at looked at me, "Do you think it's easy?!" Tears welled again, the guilt crept again at my heart like some black paint, a lie, some curse. "You have no idea about me Jungkook! I'm a horrible person! Very terrible. I'm a murderer, I ruin lives, just like I did yours. I had no idea who was my actual mother! I'm a mistake!" I sniffed as he held my arms sternly, "you are not a mistake."

His red eyes stared through me, I shook my head. "You do not know my truth."

"I don't want to know it. Your facade is wounding me, I'm not capable enough for your reality."

"My flaws are deeper than your wounds," I say in a croaky whisper, tears streaming down my face.

He inhaled sharply, and a single tear full of rage dripped from his jaw. "Don't do this to me." His hold on me trembled, "please."

For the first time in the depths of my soul, I felt like breaking apart in pieces. Not only had he broken my heart, but also my soul in small shards. And it's gonna wound me forever.

#jungkook #bts fanfic #bts fantasy au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fanfction #bts #bts fluff #bts jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jjk #jhope #jimin #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook fluff #bts x y/n #bts x you #bts x reader #bts fic #bts army #bts jimin #bts taehyung #bts smut #jungkook x original character #jungkook x you

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

P&C | Ch. 3: Nursing Buddies

➪ Playlist (Spotify) l Series Masterlist

"I think I like your space buns more," a whisper lingers as Tae bends his neck, lowering his gaze as our eyes meet.

"Trust me, so do I. But first impressions are important," I say, already anticipating his quick remark regarding his first impression of me.

"You know I thought you would just keep your hand on my hoodie the whole ride down. You didn't seem in much of a rush," he chuckles, teasing my flushed face.

"Yeah well, it's not my fault you had to stand there," I quickly glance at him with a smirk.

He gives me a boxy smile, "Oh it was my fault? My bad, sorry, next time you decide to tumble into the elevator let me know so I can get out of your way," he says with the same teasing smirk.

It's goofy obviously, but I'm glad he wasn't awkward about it. I've embarrassed myself enough for one day. I'm surprised he hasn't said anything about my unfortunate outfit though but, I'll take it. Don't need him knowing about my Barbie obsession too. Flip-flops is enough.

Tae offered me a drink as we talked about our majors and how the first day of school went.

"Shut up! Nursing? No way, me too," I scream with genuine excitement.

"Stop, are you serious?" Tae exclaims. Leaning in forward, making sure he heard me correctly. But yes, turns out we are both majoring in Nursing.

"I'm dead serious. Wait, then how come I didn't see you in today's classes?" I ask, still smiling about the news.

"I didn't go, slept through them and then helped out with the party," he explained.

"Well, you didn't miss much. We just went over the syllabus, but the courses are fast-paced and content heavy so try not to miss too much," I say.

"Oh no trust me, my mom would whoop me if I did. Today was the only exception. She loves Jungkook and Jimin, so I told her it was a party for their arrival from Busan." he smiles pointing to the two guys standing by the food table.

"Is Jungkook alright?" I didn't mean to change the subject but my curiosity couldn't resist anymore. He hasn't left Jimin's side since we walked in and barely said a word aside from that short introduction.

"Yeah, he is fine, don't worry. If he doesn't sleep well, it shows on his face. Becomes all grumpy and quiet. Give him a day." Tae explains with a reassuring smile. I nod. Anyway, he knows better, they've been friends for a long time. By now they know each other's characters better than they know their own.

After talking to Tae for a while, I found my way to Jiah who was naturally with Jimin.

"Hey Mira, are you enjoying the party?" Jimin offers me water, as they scoot closer making room on the sofa.

"It's awesome! I met so many people already. Tae and I are in the same major, how funny is that?" I laugh.

"Tae is in Nursing? Since when? What happened to Graphic Design?" Jiah asks, turning to Jimin while simultaneously trying to spot Tae in the crowd.

"Yeah, that was before his parents found out. They said he needed a real job, one that would make him stable money. Capitalism, what can I say," Jimin sighs, leaning his head back.

"That's unfortunate, he looked so happy when talking about his projects. But, now he has Mira to pull him through Nursing." Jiah exclaims with a bright smile, eyes locked on mine.

"We'll see if I'll be able to pull myself through at least a semester," I say chuckling, but the concern in my voice is genuine. However, I'm glad that I at least have Tae in this with me. What if we end up in this same cohort?

--

1:00 a.m.

It's the next day, yet the party seems to have only begun. I'm not sure what these people are drinking but I'm ready to call it a night and sink into my warm bed. So, I go to find Jiah and Jimin and thank them for the invitation, before waving Tae goodbye. We promised to meet each other tomorrow before classes, to prepare for the battle that is Nursing.

As I left the studio room, I was relieved by the breeze of fresh air coming from the opened emergency exit door. Weird, but I need that air, I've been suffocating in there for God knows how long.

"Hello? Is anyone in there?" my voice is quiet, trying not to disturb the sane people who are fast asleep. I walked out of the building and onto the bench area by the dormitory. The moonlight is reflecting onto the pond as the sound of crickets fills the night ambience. Everything was at peace. That is until I saw a dark figure sitting on one of the benches farther back.

"Hello??" I screeched, stumbling back on my feet. Boom. There I was on the ground, one heel off my foot completely while the other was stuck in one of the cracks. Phenomenal.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" a familiar voice exclaims as the dark figure rushes towards me. Black hoodie, black hair. Jungkook. Why was he here all alone? Was he sleeping?

"Yeah, I'm oka..." my words were abrupted by his sudden action. In one swoop he was able to lift me while taking care of my broken heels. My arms just awkwardly dangling off of his broad shoulders, as I try to not make eye contact with his face, which was in very close proximity. After reaching the bench, he put me down, taking off his hoodie to put it on my bare legs. Everything is happening so quickly, mentally I am still on the ground, too embarrassed to look up.

"What were you doing out here, it's cold?" he asks, eyes focused on my face.

"What were you doing out here? I only came up to check why the door was left open," I exclaimed, stuttering the second half of my sentence. He lets out a small chuckle and sits on the bench beside me.

"It was too loud in there, I already had a migraine so this wasn't helping. So, I decided to get some fresh air. Mystery solved." he looks back at me with a smirk. I give him a shy smile.

"Anyways, I wanted to introduce myself again, since I looked completely rough back there. I swear I'm much hotter in real life," he explains, holding out his hand.

"This is real life ..." I point out with a smirk, shaking his hand.

"You know what I mean. Anyways, I'm Jungkook, nice to meet you, Mira, right?" I nod.

"So, how was the party?" he asks. I explained that I'm not much of a party girl and came as Jiah's plus one. But it turned out to play in my favour as I met my study buddy. He was so tired he almost forgot about Tae's change in major and had to do a quick double-take when I mentioned Nursing.

"What about you? What's your major?" I ask.

"Well, right now, it's Kinesiology, but we'll see. Maybe I'll double major in something else," he explains. Well, he definitely looks like the type to major in Kinesiology, a lean physique with buff muscles. Everything about him screams gym rat, I know because I'm quite literally the opposite. I don't remember the last time I stepped foot into a gym, it's too intimidating and also I'm lazy. I hyperventilate going up 3 flights of stairs, so I think that should tell you all you need about my level of fitness.

We talk for a little while longer until silence consumes the surroundings. It's peaceful again. His hoodie is still on my legs, while he is left sitting with just a white T-shirt on. I try to move but my body is restricted by the sudden weight on my right shoulder.

"Ouch," I yelp quietly, as I notice Jungkook's fluffy hair right by my face. He fell asleep. On my shoulder. The one that suddenly won't stop hurting. That's it. I remembered why Jungkook seemed so familiar. He was the guy that bumped into me at the entrance door.  

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#bts #bangtan #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x yn #bts x yn #jungkook fanfic #fanfic #jungkook smut #romance #young love #college love #slow burn #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x female reader #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine

[lawlietkitty]

Kazuichi Soda x reader 🔧

”Nightmares”

The nighttime announcement has already went off hours ago, but I still can't seem to get any sleep.

I glance outside my window, looking at the night sky. The moon is shining bright as always. Staring up at the stars always seems to calm my mind.

My thoughts start to calm down, and I feel as if I'm finally ready to fall asleep. But my piece was suddenly disrupted by someone knocking on my door.

-shit, who could it be? It's like 3 in the morning. Why the hell would someone knock at my door at 3 in the morning?? What if they're here to kill me??! Ok I need to calm down.- I think to myself, taking a deep breath. Why am I so paranoid?

I hear the knocks again, but this time, followed by a familiar voice:

-Y/N? Are you up? Can I pleaseee come in??

Oh. It's just kazuichi. But he sounds kinda worried, almost scared, it seems.

I quickly get up and rush to the door. When I open it, I see the pink haired boy with a rather sleepy face, as if he had just woke up.

-Are you okay? Did something happen, Kaz?

Before even answering my questions, he walks inside my cottage and sits in my bed.

-Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just had a nightmare that's all.

I-... is he serious? Did he come here in the middle of the night because of some... nightmares??

-Gosh, are you kidding me?? You scared the shit out of me! I thought someone tried to murder you or something!

-WHAT, why would you think that?!

-Well, I never expected you to come here at 3am because of some stupid nightmares! Seriously, Kaz, how old are you?

-HEY, they weren't just some stupid nightmares, ok?? They were... about my dad... - his voice got a lot quieter when saying that last part. Fuck. I shouldn't have said that. Kazuichi has some serious issues regarding his father, but he's never talked about it directly. He always acts as if what his father did to him is something normal, which shows how used he is to being abused. For him to say it in such a sad voice ... it must have been a fucked up nightmare. I feel bad for him.

-Oh, I'm... sorry, I didn't know that's what it was about. Sorry I didn't mean that. - I say, now sitting next to him.

-No, it's ok. I know you were just joking.- he says, looking away, avoiding looking me in the face. It looks like he regrets saying that, or maybe he's just embarrassed.

The atmosphere is starting to get heavy, which is something unusual when I'm around kazuichi.

-Do you wanna talk about it, maybe? I'm not the best at advice but I'm a great listener!- I forced a smile, sitting down next to him.

-No, don't worry. The more I think about it the more it makes me feel worse.

-Are you sure, Kaz?- I rest my hand on his shoulder, and he turned his head to face me.- You know you can always talk to me, right? I understand what you went through.

-I just... want to distract myself right now, if that's ok... But... thank you for being so kind, Y/N. - he gives me a sweet smile, and I can see a slight spark in his eyes. That, right there, is my weakness.

I pull him in for a hug. At first he doesn't react, but he then gives in, hugging me back, wrapping his arms around my body. We stay like that for only a few seconds, but those few seconds felt like they lasted an eternity. I wish they did.

Kazuichi is not only my best friend here, on the island, but he's also the one person I come to when I need anything. If I need help, advice, someone to hangout with, someone to chat with, eat with, laugh with. It's him. I may see him as more than just my best friend, but he doesn't know that, and will most likely never know. What if he thinks it's weird and doesn't want to be my friend anymore? What if he laughs at me and makes fun of me? So many things could go wrong, and trust me, I've thought about every single one of them. I just can't risk losing someone so important to me.

He pulls away from the hug, stares at me for a couple seconds, and then looks at the floor, trying to hide the flustered look on his face.

He's so adorable. His little side smile, his rosed cheeks that match the color of his eyes, the way he plays with his own fingers when he's nervous. I love everything about him.

-Y/N?

He called for me, taking me of my trance.

- Is it ok if I sleep here for the night? I just... really don't want to be alone right now.

-Oh, of course, don't worry about it.

-Really? If you want to, I can actually sleep on the floor, I just don't want to make you uncomfortable.

-Oh, no no! It's ok, don't worry. Here, - I pat one of the pillows - you can stay on this side of the bed.

He takes off his shoes and hat, and starts pulling down the blankets so he can lay next to me.

-Hum... are you gonna sleep with your jumpsuit?

-Huh? Oh, I usually take it off to sleep but, again, I really don't want to make you uncomfortable or something, you know. I don't want you to think I'm some kind of creep.

- But that's gotta be really uncomfortable to sleep in. You can take it off if you want to. It doesn't bother me.

-Huh? Are you sure?? Well, I guess I can keep my shirt on.

He takes off his bright yellow jumpsuit, wearing only a white tank top and black underwear now.

He lays next to me, and we both just stare at the ceiling in silence. But that comfortable kind of silence, you know?

-Hey, Y/N... what would you do if... you really wanted to say something to someone, but if you did, it could either destroy your relationship with them, or something really amazing could happen. But the person is really special to you and you don't wanna risk losing them.

Hm, how interesting. Sounds a lot like one of my problems.

-Ok, just tell me, who's the lucky girl?

-WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

-COME ON, I'm not stupid, you know! Just tell me who it is.

-I'm not telling you, ur gonna laugh at me. - he said making a pouty face, that I find simply adorable.

-im not gonna laugh at you, Kaz!

-Promise?

-Promise.

And with a straight face, he stares at me, deep in my eyes and takes a deep breath. Before I could even gather my thoughts, I feel his lips pressing against mine. My face starts burning up. I instinctively pull away. What was this just now? Did Kazuichi just...

-Oh my god I'm so so sorry! God I'm so fucking stupid. I- I'll just leave. - he said, shaking his hands around, nervously.

But before he got the chance to stand up, I pull him down again and put my arms around him in a hug.

-uh- y/n... what are you doing?

-I'm not letting you leave. You said you wanted to spend the night here so that's what we're doing.

- But- what I just did- you dont...?

-I like you, Kaz. You can kiss me as often as you want, from now on.

His face immediately brightens up, now forming his usual smirk.

-oh? It's that so? So I guess it would be ok if I just did this? - he starts kissing me repeatedly around my face. We both laugh, while still hugging

The silence once again returns, but this time, it's feels comfortable. We both just stay there, in each other's arms, enjoying the silence, eventually falling asleep.

So that was it! :D I hope it wasn't too bad for a first try. Apologies for any English mistakes, I tried my very best ^^ as always I'm open to criticism, so please don't be afraid to give me advice!! Tysmm byee ^_^

#danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #danganronpa goodbye despair #danganronpa fanfiction #danganronpa x reader #kazuichi soda x reader #danganronpa kazuichi #kazuichi souda #kazuichi x reader

[metalnecklace]

There Was Heaven In Your Eyes

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (plus size)

Words: 4054

Notes: Still not as much Javi in this one, but it’s getting there for sure. Pablo Escobar is in this one a bit. Also I tried to stay as close to the timeline as possible but I probably overlooked a few things, sorry about that!

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Threats of Violence, Not the Best Spanish Translations, Pablo Escobar

Masterlist

Chapter 2

Months went by in the blink of an eye. Turns out Luis used to talk about me to the other men working for Pablo, and would brag about his kid having a great teacher that he got to look at. Because of this glowing review, and the need to stay out of the public eye, Pablo decided to hire me as a nanny for his two children, providing me with a new identity and passport to match. He wanted to make me disappear as quickly as possible, which happened to align with my interests as well.

It was hard to wrap my head around the fact that I was not just employed by a drug cartel, but I was working directly under the boss. I knew he was not a good person, but his children were sweet. I kept my head down and focused on making sure they were cared for and his wife, Tata, was supported while I was given a roof over my head and food and clothes.

I never left the properties that we stayed at unless we had to move. It was too dangerous. There were times I hardly left the houses, which weren’t too bad but I tended to feel claustrophobic at times.

I hardly ever saw Pablo, unless he was coming to check in on his children. Usually it was just Tata, Pablo’s mother, and I using our small understanding of each other's languages to get by. I was grateful, but I still wondered if my day to day life was an improvement on how I had been living.

Finally a year passed with me working for the Escobar family. Things had started getting tense with Pablo moving us around more, which caused Tata to grow irritable. Pablo’s mother insisted that we trust him, but it was hard when I heard the men talking about different things that had been going on. I only caught some words here and there, my Spanish getting better but still not a hundred percent.

Weeks went by where I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing my life in Canada. Old friends, family members, and even better memories of my husband played out behind my eyelids like my own home movie. I yearned for some of my life to return, but knew better than to hope.

Some nights when I couldn’t sleep I found myself pulling out the folded up card I was given just over a year earlier. It was thin and frayed, the lines well worn in from being unfolded and folded back up time and time again. I didn’t need to look at the numbers anymore, having committed them to memory, but I found comfort just reading over his name at times.

Javier Peña.

I was embarrassed to admit to myself how much I fantasized about what might happen if I called him. How would his voice sound? Would I have the nerve to actually talk to him? I had only been trying to do my job, but I wondered what would have happened if I had given him the information he needed back in that classroom.

Fantasies were what kept me going as I blocked out the evidence that things were falling apart day by day. Tata’s hands shook while she did dishes, their children often asked questions that I couldn’t answer about their father, and Pablo was seen less and less.

I was outside by the pool with the kids one day when I heard some of the men talking. I couldn’t understand everything they were saying, but the words La Catedral were being said over and over again.

Tata had explained briefly to me what was going to be happening, considering things would change slightly at home. Pablo was going to prison, but one that he built. A paradise it sounded like.

Except his family would stay behind, as would I. I was grateful for that, even though I knew it would be hard for them to be apart for so long. I just didn’t want to be that close to his operations, even though I was already almost as close as you could get.

I was settling into bed one night after a long day. The children were restless, wondering why their father was leaving them, so I spent most of the day trying to raise their spirits and reassure them of their fathers love. It was hard to promise something that I didn’t quite believe, myself, but I did care for them and hated to see them be upset.

The house was quiet, as my room was just far enough that I could hear if the kids were awake but that was it. Pablo and Tata’s room was too far away for me to hear anything, luckily, but I knew they wouldn’t be asleep yet anyway. It was almost eerie how quiet everything was. There was nothing that could drown out the thoughts and worries that spun around in my head. I felt my fingers itching to reach for that card held snug in my wallet when the silence was broken.

My ears rung and my lungs filled with dust. Part of my wall was collapsed onto the floor at the foot of my bed. There had been an explosion, and I had to act fast.

I raced to the kids rooms without a second thought for my own safety. Pablo held his daughter in his arms, shielding her head with his hand and neck, his son was already with Tata who was frantic. Pablo rushed us out of harm's way and into a separate room. I helped Tata settle the children as Pablo paced back and forth.

His doctor came rushing in with Gustavo right behind him. They spoke fast between each other while the doctor checked us over, making sure we were alright.

“Fue un autobomba, desde la calle,” Gustavo told Tata. (It was a car bomb, from the street).

Without acknowledging it, we all knew that meant somebody had given him up.

I needed to get out of there.

I tried to focus on a plan, but Pablo’s men seemed to double around the house we were moved into. I couldn’t seem to catch a break, always finding somebody around the corner just watching. Even when I was alone in my room at night I had the feeling of a presence just outside my door.

It all came to a head when the family had just sat down for dinner one day. I had helped Tata prepare the meal and the table for her family before going to take a break in my room. As I was leaving I bumped into one of Pablo’s men, one I had seen many times. He paid me no mind as he rushed into the kitchen. I paused, wondering about the ghostly look that his face displayed before I heard wailing behind me. I turned and rushed back into the kitchen to find Pablo holding his mother who was in absolute shambles.

Pablo turned to me, his face more serious than I had ever seen. “Gustavo está muerto.”

Tata looked at me and I could tell I was not wanted in this intimate moment. I scurried out of the room and into mine, closing and locking the door behind me. My knees were wobbly as I made my way to my bed before I laid on my back, trying my best to keep my breathing even.

Gustavo was dead. A man who I started to believe was untouchable. Just like that, he was gone.

I couldn’t tell what I was feeling. Relief, mostly, but also worry. What was going to happen next?

The answer to my question was apparently nothing.

Pablo still went to his prison, life at home was still the same. The kids missed their father, but they still did their best to live their lives.

Tata started to allow me to leave the property just to go to the market if I ever felt I needed to. As long as I had some of Pablo’s men with me. It felt nice to finally get out a bit, but I knew I wasn’t truly free. I still had eyes on me at all times.

The family visited Pablo in Le Catedral a few times, but I stayed behind. I was never completely alone in the house, but I still felt much lighter on those days. I also found my eyes straying toward the phones, Javier’s number rolling through my mind each time I was alone. It would have been so easy to dial, listening for the sound of his voice.

I had only spoken to the man once, but something kept me hanging on. He was my last connection to the world outside of the war I was living through. I didn’t even know if he would still be on the other end of the line, or if he was still working for the DEA, or if he was even still alive.

I tried not to dwell on those thoughts and kept myself away from temptation, only worrying about preparing meals and keeping the house tidied for when they would return. I had thought about running, trying to leave, but my guilt wouldn’t let me leave the children when I could tell they were unsure of what was going on. They asked more and more questions that I couldn’t answer, but I tried to fill our days with moments of peace.

I continued each day the same, and soon the days blended together. I surrendered myself to the idea that I would never live free again. I sealed my fate the day I left home, and would live the rest of my life for others.

Things didn’t even change when I was woken up by people talking outside. I had been exhausted by the day to day steadiness and had gone to bed fairly early that night. I listened closely and could hear Pablo’s mother exclaiming. I knew in my gut what was going on.

He was home.

I left my room and walked into the kitchen where Pablo entered with his arm around Tata. He looked up and released Tata so he could stand directly in front of me, bringing his hands up to cradle each side of my face. I tried my hardest not to flinch at the warmth of his palms, remembering the last time I had felt them.

“Thank you for caring for mi familia.”

My eyes caught on the graying hair by his temples, then to the dark circles under his eyes. Clearly it had not been a paradise.

I nodded, his hands shifting against my skin. “Siempre, Pablo.” (Always, Pablo).

He smiled and lowered his hands, returning to his wife.

All was right once again for the family.

We settled back into our routines again, and I was still allowed to go out to the market once a week. I wasn’t sure who was more excited about that, me or the driver who escorted me. He usually spent most of his time flirting with one of the cashiers while he let me go about my business.

This worked out very well until one evening when I needed to grab a few things for the weekend. The kids had been wanting to help me prepare a meal for their parents and gave me a list of items to purchase. It seemed like a normal outing, but the regular cashier looked tense as soon as we walked in.

“Cariño, ¿por qué pareces tan preocupado?” Hugo, my escort, asked her. (Baby, why do you look so worried?)

“No hay razón, sólo me siento mal.” She shook her head at him while he held her hands. (No reason, just feeling off.)

I left them to talk as I worked my way down the aisles. I knew that market like the back of my hand, and especially loved the freedom that came with nobody knowing who I was.

Until I heard my name. My full name. My real name.

I immediately looked up in the direction it came from, mentally punishing myself for giving away my identity, before my eyes landed on him.

I could feel my lips part around a gasp as I laid my eyes on Javier Peña. He looked just the same as he did the day I saw him, only this time he wore a leather jacket that I had no doubt concealed another gun tucked into his pants.

“(Y/F/N),” he said again, and I hated how much I loved the way my name sounded coming from his lips, “that’s you, right?”

I drew in a shaky breath. “Lo siento, no sé de qué estás hablando,” I told him. (I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about).

He huffed a laugh, the corner of his mouth going up. “Your accent is much better than before, but you’re not fooling me, sweetheart.”

My heart was beating so loud I was sure he could hear it as he stepped closer.

He lowered his voice. “You disappeared that day. I went back to find you, but you were gone. What’ve you been up to?” His eyes shifted around us to confirm we were alone.

Before I could even think of an answer I heard yelling toward the front of the store, a gunshot, then screaming.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. “Come with me, (Y/N).”

He reached out to grab my arm but I pulled back. I didn’t want to be taken again, even though I could see the understanding and care in the pools of his eyes. I shook my head at him and turned toward the footsteps rushing in our direction.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered before turning to go toward the commotion. A hand grabbed onto my arm, pulling me back toward the agent.

I could feel myself getting lost in his eyes yet again as he pulled me closer to him.

“Please,” he begged.

“I can’t, Javi.” I pulled away from him, watching his eyes darken slightly at my use of his nickname.

Another gunshot rang out, causing him to curse again and retrieve his gun. Hugo rounded the corner, gun aiming straight toward Javi, who shot toward Hugo first just barely missing him. Hugo shot again, forcing Javi to take cover before I was pulled in the line of fire. I was being used as cover for Hugo as he pulled me toward the front of the store.

“Get to the car, now,” he snarled in my ear and pushed me to the doors.

I ran as fast as I could trying to ignore the body of the cashier that laid between the cash and the exit. Her face was frozen in a look of terror, which I was sure mirrored mine.

More gunshots rang out behind me as I ducked into the back of the car. I knew the drill: keep myself tucked down between the back and front seats with my head as far down as possible.

Hugo slid into the front and sped out of the parking lot, jostling me against the seats.

“She ratted us out,” he panted as though he was still running. “La putita era una rata.” (The little whore was a rat).

We sped along twisting this way and that until we finally came to a stop. Hugo turned around as I wiggled my body up onto the seat properly.

“What did he say to you?” He asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t really know, it was all Spanish and I didn’t quite understand.”

He nodded, turning back to the front. “Okay.”

We got inside and Hugo left to talk to Pablo about what had happened. I went straight to my room and laid on my bed. After a few seconds I rolled onto my stomach, buried my face in my pillow, and cried.

I was so frustrated with myself. Once again I was given a lifeline and I didn’t take it. It would have been so easy. Instead I just froze. That’s all I had been doing ever since I moved to Colombia. However, the last time I had done the opposite was the day I had left. I was still dealing with those consequences.

Because of the incident at the market I was no longer allowed out. Pablo had been right all along, it was too risky. I was beyond frustrated with myself, the family, and the entire world, as I was once again a prisoner.

I no longer felt like I had any sense of how many days, weeks, months, had passed. Had been passing. I had grown numb to the timeline. My mornings were filled with teaching and caring for the children, my afternoons and evenings were for cooking and cleaning. I rose and set with the sun.

One evening the entire family was outside enjoying the weather after their dinner. Pablo looked over at me as I sat with his children in the shade of a tree.

“Rest, you look tired,” he said, nodding his head toward the house. He reached over and held Tata’s hand. “Lo tenemos.” (We got it).

“Gracias,” I thanked him before bidding the children goodnight. I stood and walked into the house, my feet automatically pulling me in the direction of the phone in their bedroom.

I wasn’t even thinking as I dialed the numbers. The movement felt well practiced, though I had only ever dialed that number in my head.

He picked up on the third ring.

“Agent Peña.” His voice was gruff and laced with exhaustion. I choked back a sob at the sound of it.

“Javier?” It was all I was able to say, my eyes filling with tears, my hand trembling terribly.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed the nickname out like it was a part of him.

I felt my throat constricting, unable to do more than choke on my words.

“It’s okay, respira,” he spoke calmly, helping my heart rate begin to slow down. (Breathe). “Where are you?”

“I-I don’t know,” I finally got out. “I’m with the family, but I don’t know where we are.”

Yet again I was frustrated with the way I kept my head down. I had kept it too far down, which was exactly what Pablo had wanted. The less I knew the better.

“That’s alright, we’ve got guys flying overhead,” he still kept his voice steady. “We’ll find you, lo prometo.” (I promise).

The dial tone buzzed in my ears. I looked down at the receiver to find someone had hung up. Pablo stood just behind me with a fire in his eyes that I had never seen directed toward me.

“¿Quién?” He asked. I averted my gaze. “¿Con quién hablabas?” (Who? Who were you talking to?).

“Nobody,” I lied, horribly. “Nobody, Pablo.”

He shook his head, stepping closer.

“Una vez más.” His voice laced its way into my heart, turning my blood cold. “Quién.” (One more time. Who.).

My whole body was trembling, my mouth opening and closing like a fish. If I wasn’t so scared I would’ve been embarrassed at my state.

He rushed forward, bringing his hand up to my neck and pushing me toward the wall. My head hit the surface with a thunk, making me gasp and struggle to see straight for a moment. When my eyes finally settled on the man in front of me I realized just how close he was to me. His face hovered less than an inch in front of my nose, a snarl spread on his lips. He looked like he was about to eat me alive.

“¿Crees que eres inteligente? Pequeña rata.” (You think you’re smart? You little rat).

I gasped as his grip tightened, my airway closing more and more. My breaths felt sharp as I struggled to keep my eyes open.

“No. Eres peor que una rata.” (No. You’re worse than a rat.). He let up on my throat, allowing me to take in more air. Just enough that he could keep my attention. “Eres un traidor.” (You’re a traitor.).

“P-Pablo,” I sputtered, barely getting any sound out, “por favor.”

He turned his head to the side and spit at my feet. I cringed at the sound, and closed my eyes.

“Mìrame,” he demanded. (Look at me.).

I obeyed, opening my eyes as he cocked the gun that now rested against my temple.

“¿Crees que alguien más te protegerá? ¿Después de todo lo que hemos hecho? Debería matarte…” he trailed off, lowering the gun and letting go of my throat. (Do you think anyone will protect you? After everything we’ve done for you? I should kill you…).

I dropped to my knees, my hands rushing to my throat while I coughed and gasped. The ground felt as though it was moving under me. Pablo knelt down to look at me face to face once more.

“¿Cómo pudiste hacerlo? ¿A la familia? ¿A los niños?” (How could you do this to us? To the family? To the children?). I choked back a sob. “¿Crees que no entrarán aquí con sus malditas armas? Los matarán. They’ll kill my children.” (Do you think they won’t come in here with their fucking guns? They’ll kill them.).

I was fully sobbing, shaking my head back and forth. “Lo siento, Pablo. I don’t want the children getting hurt.” (I’m sorry, Pablo.). My throat felt raw, the words coming out raspy.

My translations weren’t coming as easy as they had been, but I got the gist of what he was saying. It was my fault that his children would be getting hurt. I dug their graves with my bare hands and stupid decisions.

“¿Quieres ser una rata? Muy bien. You’ll live like one.” (You want to be a rat? Fine.). He stood back to his full height and tucked his gun into the back of his pants. “Ya verás lo que pasa cuando se den cuenta de que eres un inútil. Fucking useless.” (You’ll see what they do when they realize you’re useless.).

He spit on the floor once more, just missing me, and turned to leave. Before walking out of the door he looked at me.

“You’ll live out the rest of your life in fear. You’re a disgrace.” He growled, reaching into his pocket and throwing something on the floor. Then he walked away.

I sat on the floor trying to catch my breath and calm my nerves. A sharp pain drove through my skull when I laid my head on the wall behind me, causing me to hiss. After a few minutes I finally stood and made my way to the object on the floor. I gasped when I realized it was the card with Javier’s info on it. I felt so stupid thinking I could keep that from Pablo.

I ran to the front of the house, just in time to see Pablo in the backseat of a car with his family, all of their eyes on me. My heart cracked as I looked into the eyes of his children. I truly did care for them. They were innocent, stuck with the roles they were born into.

Pablo shook his head, disappointment clear on his features, as they drove away into the setting sun. One of his men was still lingering in his vehicle as the rest drove away. He leaned out his window and whistled for my attention.

“¡Eh, puta! If any of us see your face, you’re fucked!” He raised his gun out of his window and shot once into the sky. I flinched with the sound, and watched him drive off, cackling.

It was obvious that Pablo had been ready. He knew that I was cracking, probably knew my plans for weeks, if not months, depending on when he found that card. I had it just the night before but he could’ve gone through my things at any point. His family had been packed away into the car with their necessary belongings while he had been catching me.

I ran back to the phone and lifted it to my ear. Nothing. They had cut the lines.

“Fuck!” I shouted, throwing the phone against the wall I had been held against. I watched it shatter into pieces and rain onto the floor.

I was truly alone.

#javi peña #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x plus size reader #javier pena fic #javier pena x reader

[gav-san]

Queen of the King 9/15

Previous / Next

You push the necklace under your cloak under whatever clothing you can find before you make your way to the king.

“It won’t come off-” Tapo says, but you push her aside. “Princess-”

“I cannot stall. I am expected.” You mutter under your breath as you move past courtiers and ladies who seem to chatter gleefully at your expense behind expensive silk fans. You can’t even blame them, after all, you have made several mistakes, the latest letting the Gerudo King approach you again.

It has finally become clear that you can no longer trust yourself near him. Even knowing that it is going to be greatly embarrassing, and very humiliating, and you will likely be assigned to be a castle matron or tutor or whatever they do with untrustworthy aging old princesses, at least you will be in control.

Something you find yourself losing, as you step across wet grass, looking at the mocking face of the Hyrule Nobility. 

Once, you had been on top of them all. Now, you would be glad to be the least of them. 

People raise a glass as if to toast you, others wave strips of cut beef on sharp knives as if to salute your future.

So head held high, you ignore them all, letting the tall row of blue banners guide your steps. But even as you gaze around, you find that you see little of the red of the Gerudo. 

Were they not going to make camp as the Hyrulians did? Or perhaps they preferred to sleep at the castle?

But you are shocked out of this as the King’s messenger announces you, and you shift your attention. Tapo moves to the side with the rest of your attendants as the door opens, giving you an apprehensive look.

It is too quick for such an opening. 

He is expecting you.

But there is no turning your back on a king, so you enter, falling into a curtsy as the flap behind you closes.

“Hail, my King.” You say, going as low as you can on the thick rug, lowering your eyes to his knees.

There is a pause.

A long pause.

One long enough that your knees ache, that it becomes clear that this will not be a pleasant meeting.

Only when your knee begins to shake, at least a good thirty minutes later, does the king finally acknowledge you.

“Kneel, my sister’s daughter.” You take a deep breath, knowing this was no blessing, but a punishment. Your legs may be glad, but your back may as sure prepare itself for stripes.

“He intends to take you.” He says. “The Gerudo. He came to me. He said he’ll take you by force if necessary. To war, he says. To the brink of calamity, he promises.”

You go cold.

“You have driven him to madness. Your prophecy has driven us all to our doom. To your fate.”

“Save me.” You beg. “You promised my mother on her death. You promised.”

The king stands, but you don’t rise your face to his, choosing to stare at his feet.

“For how long have I kept you, child?” Your heart skips, hands desperate to curl into the carpet. You keep them straight, serene.

He promised.

“Fifteen years, gracious Uncle-King.” You say. He gives a dry laugh, knowing you are playing to his vanity.

“Do you know for how many of those I have been prompted to marry you off? To even myself?” He says, and a pit of something crawls up your throat. “Do you know how many courtiers think I should have wed you to ensure Hyrule's future with sons?”

You don’t answer.

“Twelve years. You were still a little girl, and they wanted me to wed you. To myself, and old man. And for the sake of a promise I made your mother I would not. But answer me this. Are you a little girl anymore?”

You swallow, and your mouth is drier than any desert ever could be.

“No.” He says. “Again and again I have offered you countless choices. I have no desire to wed again. But you’re very existence, you are causing uncertainty to Zelda’s future reign.”

And in this, you finally find the strength to speak.

You raise your head, furious. “I would never risk Zelda-”

The King leans down, grabbing your throat. He tears at the cloak, ripping the tops of your dress, revealing the necklace, shimmering brightly in the light of his lamps.

“You do not even know what you risk.”

He throws you to the ground.

“You promised.” You cry.

“A promise to a dead king would mean nothing.” He says and you sob. “I cannot keep my promise to your mother any longer. You have given yourself over to darker magic than Hyrule can protect you from. You have compromised us all, and your path is set.”

You tremble, crawling into a ball. Your uncle has never acted this unstable and wild towards you. You are scared.

“U-Uncle-” You say, but he raises a hand.

“After this moment, I cast you off from my protection.” You shake harder as he approaches, kneeling before you. The circlet on your head, he removes.” “This is your last duty as princess regent- Destroy the Gerudo threat however you will. Only then, you may be welcomed back into Hyrule and her wings as a citizen-” Then, Hyrule king rips the symbol of the goddess off your shoulder, severing all your ties to her lands- to him, to Zelda, to her royal family. To all of Hyrule.

“Now be gone. As long as you wear that necklace, you are not of Hyrule.” 

He ushers you out the back of his tent, like a pariah. None see you exit, but they shall soon all know.

–X–

The horns ring loud at midday, and the forest goes silent, knowing the hunt has begun. 

You peep out of the tent you’ve sequestered yourself in, barely showing your face. You have to hide, can’t bear to be seen, but you do want to see what’s going on.

With fanfare, most of the eager common folk gallop into the woods, and soon their rude yips and catcalls become indistinguishable in the thick foliage. They will prepare the way for those they serve, doing most of the difficult work for the wart-nosed lords who only want to shoot an arrow but still brag of victory over their counterparts. 

Because right now was the perfect time for those in power to mingle and network and perform all manner of petty power plays that will fill the castle halls with gossip until the next scandal upset the social hierarchy. 

You.

The castle will talk more of the Gerudo if you can manage to make yourself scarce for the rest of this hunt.

 If you can manage to escape to the monastery. 

Especially as you watch the jovial desert King and several of his lithe guardswoman before the dark of the forest as if they had come from there all along. They were going in early for merriment, ignoring all social conventions.

Was he bored?

After all, no one doubts he is capable of taking down a boar with little help.

You forcefully shut your tent curtains as you see him turn your way, swearing he winked at you before leaving.

Cheeks aflame you grit your teeth, huffing at the audacity. The longer you had sat with this blasted necklace on your chest the weightier it seemed, and the more it made your chest feel strange. 

And you had a terrible feeling that if you ventured into the forest today, you would not see your home again.

“My lady- I’ve brought- My lady?”

You hear Tapos’ voice on the other side of the canvas, and there is a tug.” You realize that you have been holding the cloth shut, so hard that your fingers hurt and are now red from the exertion. 

So you release the cloth, walking deep into the tent, behind your screen. 

Tapo stands there, her hand wrapped around Dinah’s arm. Like she has had to force her here, unwillingly. And by the look on her face, it has been so.

“Princess, this is most-“

“Leave us Tapo.” You say, and she pushes Dinah in, swathing you both in the shadows of your tent. The cut window, rolled up, does little to show your shared emotions, but you can tell she is uneasy.

“Princess-“ She says breathlessly. “Are we not friends?” She begins, but you let out a cry, something between a growl and a cry. You hear her rush over, letting out a sound at the sight of you.

“Prin- what has happened to your ha- your neck?”

“The necklace won’t come off. No matter how hard I tear at it I cannot take it off. Not only that, I know this. Like I know that if I wish it, I could speak in Gerudan right now, and understand it.”

Dinah says nothing.

So you turn up towards her, tears in your eyes.

“Are we not friends? Or am I just an amusement? Some toy for your king?” You say to her, fingers going to your throat as you try to take the necklace off. 

“Little Vehvi.” Dinah's eyes crease, and she looks like she may well cry with you. “Please do not. This is no punishment-“

She goes to stop you, but you push her back. She struggles, ignoring all protocol to not touch you, no matter how you struggle. She pins you to the ground to stop you from tearing out your throat. 

“I have worked from dawn till dusk to ensure peace between our peace and you mock my efforts? Should we be preparing for war?” You cry, fingers coated in blood. “Why do you magic me? Why this mockery?”

“Princess, please-“ You hear Tapo’s voice say, only for your own to roar, unrecognizable to yourself.

“YOU SHALL STAY. YOU SHALL TELL ME EVERYTHING!” You cry out as Dinah holds you to the ground. And you sob and sob until you have no more tears, not because you are no longer sad but because you have no more water in you.

Instead, you let her hold you, like a mother holding a baby.

There isn't much time until night, and you have much to do.

But you need it, even if you are mad at them.

At her.

At him.

“Vevhi.” She says, her voice, oh so soft. 

“You shall not call me in any affectionate terms, you snake.” You whisper, and the vitriol gives you enough energy to wretch yourself from her,  giving her a good view of the shining necklace adoring your bruised and swollen throat.

“Yes,” She says, “I suppose I should call you lati now.” Lati. “It means queen.” She added, though you already knew it.

“Your stories.” You say, angrily. “They’re not stories.” You turned to look at her, hurt deep on your face.

“No,” She replies quietly. “They’re not.”

The shadows of the tend seemed to augment her story, dancing in her eyes as she stared deeply into your own. 

Your mouth quivers.

“Why.” You say, trying not to whimper. Why me?

She sighs as if trying to convince herself, palms together. As if this is not the way she would have done things.

“Most kings are lucky.” She says, voice resentful, “They merely need to take whatever bride strikes their fancy and do their best to survive in the desert. That’s probably where the tradition of bride-stealing came in, the need for bringing in new blood. It is necessary for our survival.” 

You can’t help but grimace. Such barbaric methods. 

“Ah, vevhi, you may be the beloved lati of the king, but you are still like my child.” Flustered by her open affection, you shift away, looking to the sky.

Fear gripped your chest as you think of your future captor. The current king, and if to be believed, a man on the precipice of insanity. 

He had seemed to feel your gaze and turned to meet your eyes, that hopeful smile on his face. You quickly shake your head, the strange mix of feelings in you becoming even more muddled. Fear, anger, anxiety, embarrassment, hope?

How could one even survive such emotional turmoil?

You turned to Dinah, eyes hooded. The implication was there, as it always had been.

“So I am to be forsaken by mine own people and hunted like cattle.” You say, voice shaking, as you move to stand to your feet. You are uneasy, but gain strength as you go, moving to drink a large decanter of wine.

Dinah stands, bracing herself.

“Only if you decide to face this scared must you run scared. He is not a cruel king. Nor does he chase you out of sport or pleasure. It is duty. You are beloved by him.”

“Duty.” You spit, letting wine spill down your dress. Dinah winces, but you care little about the mess you have become. “Beloved enough to hunt. What choice have I? The deal is struck, and you know it.”

She nods, not denying it.

“Yes. It has been the Gerudo’s objective the moment the King met you.” 

You give a dry laugh.

“Get out. I’m done with you. I’m not going to sit here, listening to you pity me anymore. I never want to see your face again. As a matter of fact, I’m determined not to see any Gerudo ever again.”

Dinah’s brow’s furrow, but she bows, turning to leave. But before she exits, she pauses.

“If you can outrun the Gerudo King for two days and nights he is honor bound to let you go free.” She says.

You turn to her, spilling wine over yourself. 

“But it won’t be possible.” You furrow your brows.

You swear you can see her give a smile.

“Play to his ego. Those parts on a man, once filled with blood, can’t help but give a feisty woman a sporting chance.”

–X–

Tapo is upset. Her hand's fumble, her lips tremble and her brows furrow as she laces up the awful dress. You grunt as the collar irritates your skis. 

“I never thought… you’d be… serious…, m’lady.” She sniffs, patting down the horrible fabric. The brown of the dress is truly awful, but you push down the pain in your hands and throat. “A nunnery, and in your condition. The Gerudo should be ashamed. The King-”

You turn, putting a hand on her shoulder as she swallows down her tears. You’re glad you’re long past yours. The pain has made it easier to push the emotions down.

“Thank you for your hard work.” You say. “Go take a break with your family, and then I’ve arranged the kitchen to take you in once you’re ready to work again.”

She pushes a tear aside, then to your surprise, wraps her arms around you.

“I want to go with you. I’ll be a nun with you.” You chuckle, hugging her back, taking a deep breath of her clean hair.

“I’ll send you a letter, wherever I go.”

You push back, placing a small bag in her hands. She raises her brow, and you wink.

“For the family.”

You didn’t think you'd need jewelry anyhow. 

–X–

You couldn’t wish for a better disguise wearing Tapo’s worn old cloak as you slip into the trees, carrying a half-full slops bucket. Wearing a thick woolen hat under the cloak none bat an eye at a servant going to empty a dirty bucket in the forest, especially one so poorly dressed.

And once your pass the treeline, you hide the bucket in the undergrowth. You can see the road still, and decide that it’s your best bet. From Tapo’s instructions, if you follow it east, you can hit the mountains within two days.

You hope the coins in your pockets will last until then. The trade-off is that the cloak does not warm you, and you know that the night will not be kind. You will have to find shelter or better clothes, food,  and hide from bandits at some point. 

But with no going back you steel yourself.

There is no return until Zelda is queen.

Perhaps, none at all.

You walk until dusk hits, shivering more and more. But the road is too obvious, and there is the occasional traveler who would recognize your distinctive hair. 

Even if the forest squelches moistly beneath you, you do not stop, you can’t worry, since all you can do is walk. Because at least if you are walking then it is still your choice, because if he finds you then it will all be no longer your choice. 

He will find you and there will be no more choices.

And it’s a thought that keeps you going.

At least, until you hear a branch break, not far behind you.

#ganondorf x reader #hot desert daddy ganon #rehydrated ganondorf #ganondorf thirst #botw2 #if i have to think about it so do you

[apparentlybychance]

Sold Out for Their Love Story: How I let go of my need for a Happily Ever After for Louis and Harry

(I need to give a bit of backstory before we jump into the ooey gooey sappy love story part. Please bear with me.)

In October 2021 I saw a picture of Harry Styles hand in hand with a woman I didn't recognize (like at all). He looked like he'd rather eat dirt than be near her. That was was the day I fell down the rabbit hole harder than when Harry fell on stage after fighting with the mic wire.

About me: I'm a PR and Social Media Marketing Director. Recognizing a carefully crafted marketing campaign is easy for me and that's exactly what this was. So I did some research because I wanted to prove myself right about it being a PR stunt. What I didn't realize was that I was about to discover one of the greatest love stories of our generation.

I'm Gen X and not Gen Z so I did my research about this awkward coupling on Google and not TikTok (shade not intended, I think). From there, the Larrie gods led me to YouTube and I found the Cosmic Leeds videos. (Side note: pour one out for their 2022 video when you think of them, because Jesus, Mary and Joseph, they have a job ahead of them!)

That led me to Twitter (don't judge - social media marketer here, remember?) and I was legit skerred. (Translation: skerred is southern for scared.) The Twarries are a rare and passionate breed, but it was all me, really. I honestly couldn't keep up! From there I found my way to Tumblr and settled into several months of quiet lurking. It wasn't until a bomb shell that I considered H-U-G-E in the fandom happened. I won't mention names, but a "big" TikTok-er was unlarrying.) *GASP*

I'm not ashamed to admit that my fetus Larrie heart was SHOOK. TO. ITS. CORE. I panicked. Were these two beautiful boys who I had been watching fall in goofy, sloppy, sappy love in hundreds of videos and interviews, possibly not together anymore? I couldn't even imagine such a travesty. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat. I had to do something.

I did the only thing I could think of. I took a deep breath and tentatively messaged a blogger here on Tumblr. I had followed her for months and trusted her for her level-headed responses. As I hit SEND on the message, I panicked. Would she ignore me completely? Or worse, just brush me off with a "get-a-life newbie", remark? Who was I but just a newborn Larrie? I was even newer than the pandemic Larries. Yikes! Imagine the shame I felt.

She responded almost immediately and she couldn't have been more welcoming and kind. She didn't treat me like a know-nothing newbie, but listened to my question with patience. She walked me through my first Larrie breakdown. (I've since learned that breaking down is a rite of passage in the fandom.) I now consider her a friend. Always in my heart @twopoppies. Yours sincerely, @Apparentlybychance.

<Insert one of may fav Harry and Louis pics to make sure you're still paying attention>:

Now onto the good stuff: the romance of it all.

(One more tidbit: I'm also a novelist. No, I don't write fan fiction. I leave that to the professionals, but my day job does allow me to indulge in my passion which is writing stories. This is where our sweet boys had me.)

Do I blame Louis and Harry for the fact that I've devoted more time to them than cleaning my house the last few months?

Yes. Yes I do. I mean just LOOK at how stinkin' adorable they are. My god.

As a fiction writer, I see a story in everything and everywhere. When I found Harry and Louis' story and watched with my own two eyes the genuine love they had for each other, I jumped in feet first and landed too hard. I saw the heart eyes and infatuation of the baby boyfriends and was hopelessly lost in their story.

Harry...sugar, wow. Just wow. You were a mess falling all over yourself to impress and attract your golden, bright as the sun, idol. And Louis sweetie, bless your little heart. You spent at least a full year trying to convince yourself this beautiful creature with the soft curls and the potent pheromones that you called "his smell" was real.

We get it. We really do. You both were (are) so smitten. And that feral need to touch each other every waking moment developed into a settled, hard fought, partnership between two committed lovers by 2015. It was breathtaking to watch.

What's not to love about their love story?

That's where I went off the rails. Maybe you see yourself in this, too? Let's discuss.

Story is ingrained in our very beings as humans. Our ancestors verbally told stories to pass down traditions and legends from one generation to the next. This wasn't only because they hadn't invented the alphabet yet, but because they knew that story was the best way to get to the heart of a person. To captivate them.

Harry and Louis' captivated me because it has all the elements of a good story:

No. 1: Captivating protagonists. Exhibit A, Your Honor: Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles. Have you ever seen more gorgeous, sweeter, more talented, more adorable protagonists? No, me neither.

No. 2: Vitriol inducing villain(s): Simon Cowell/Modest Management/Syco. Do I have to say anything else? Here we have our villain, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. The evil entity who want to keep the lovers apart, cancel their love, and crush their sweet spirits because of greed and the strong possibility that Simon isn't getting any in his own life. (Bless.)

No. 3: Magic and glamour: This is the part where story reigns supreme. (Genuinely sorry if that word was triggering.) Here we have two members of a global popstar boy band that had a meteoric rise to fame. They are rich, gorgeous, uber talented and travel to places they can't even pronounce. Not to mention, they look amazing in every article of clothing that has the privilege to grace their bodies. Will they be able to defeat the villain and finally express their love for the whole world to see? Their story is swoon-worthy. No exaggeration.

With all the makings of a good story, we are mesmerized by our star-crossed lovers, raise our swords and vow to see them through to the end. Standing behind us, they will be rescued from the nasty villain and finally be free to ride off into the sunset together to make beautiful music and raise curly-haired, ocean-blue eyed, chubby babies together. And then the famous last words cross the final page of the book: And they lived happily ever after.

Let's all just bask in that moment for a second. Our boys are free to be whoever they want to be. TOGETHER. Isn't that the pinnacle? The climax?

Am I the only one who didn't find themselves right here in this story? I definitely did when I joined the fandom. I assumed that Harry and Louis' total goal was to free from their shackles and ride off into the sunset. Surely, it was imminent. Right?

A year later, I understood why I that was immature of me. I realized that this is no fairy tale and Louis and Harry are real people. They have ambitions and goals and passions and talent and yes, immense, mature love for their partner of over 12 years.

They've been generous to share their love with us and give us signs about when they were happy and signs when they were in distress and needed support. They are still so grateful for our love and support. But I think I have to realize that they aren't ready to ride off into the sunset with their little cherubs just yet. They still have stuff to do. Goals to achieve. Talent to use. And they've chosen to pursue it the ways we are watching. With (nausea inducing) stunts that help them create a story that sells to a wider audience. It's hard for me to watch them make decisions in their lives and careers that I don't agree with or even condone. But, hey, my teenagers do it all the time so why am I surprised?

What I personally need to do for my sanity as a forever Larrie is to learn to trust them. I need to learn to let them tell their own story in the way they want. And if they don't like how their new teams are trying to get them to sell themselves, I have to believe they are strong enough together to do what they need to do to change it - though it may take time. And I need to stop looking for the Happily Ever After just around the corner. I'm really working on this part because if I was writing this damn story, they would have lit a match, set fire to the industry and watched it burn a long time ago. But I digress...

These are some things I'm doing now to release my need for the Happily Ever After and still make me feel like I'm supporting them:

I'm taking their contagious affection, care, attentiveness, hot af sex life, and sappy love declarations and bringing that same energy to my personal relationship. So far, I'm getting a good response. (wink, wink)

Despite facing incredible industry adversity, Harry and Louis are both driven to create art that is as authentic to themselves as possible while realizing that they also have to create something that other people want to buy. I've started applying that philosophy to my own art (my writing) and am releasing the fear of not being good enough. It's made for some interesting stories!

I've reached out to a local organization in my area that supports LGBTQI+ teenagers to support them in a volunteer capacity. I'm not queer myself, but I'm a good listener and I have some skills I can share to help the organization tell their story and build support. Maybe I can't take on a multi-billion dollar industry like the f-ing music industry, but by putting my time into supporting queer teens in my area, I can do something in the name of closeted queer artists all over the world.

I think it goes without saying that I'm also still on Tumblr reading all the posts from all my favorite bloggers enjoying "everything Louis and Harry" both together and individually. Maybe someday I'll get that Happily Ever After. ❤

#harry and louis #story #long term committed relationship #harry loves louis #louis loves harry

[anderscim]

@eventide-roses asked:

I would like to drop in something that has been.....kinda bugging me??? Not really bugging, but idk if you can even make a theory off of it. It's more Xanvid inclined anyway (and ig Teruvid if you squint really hard), but it's something that I found kinda interesting imo

Ask yourself this. How much screentime did David even have before chapter 2? I find it odd (my brother and I joke about him being the "Levi" of chapter 1 - having very little screentime) that he wasn't on screen for.....really most of chapter's 1 daily life, except for when he intervened Teruko and Xander's conversation in the dining hall (where he went on about how there is so much pressure on his shoulders from being looked up to a lot). Keep in mind Teruko knows his optimistic facade is merely an act. Lots of ppl (included myself) think that David only intervened cause he was watching Xander and Teruko, cautious cause one person knew something that they shouldn't have. But that also sounds a little too cautious, wouldn't you say? Sure, as an inspirational speaker, you are expected to be always happy and cheerful, seeing the world through rose tinted glasses. But surely, as a human being, you are also not immune to being sad. His slip up in the introduction just sounded like an introvert to me. Maybe a bit of a bitchy introvert, but not......something worth total contempt from someone. Yet, David is paranoid enough to keep to himself for the majority of chapter 1 and (most likely) just watched Teruko and Xander's interactions carefully. Why would he do this? Obviously he doesn't want anyone else to know about how his facade is just....well, a facade. But it honestly seems like he genuinely values Xander's opinion about him. He doesn't want anything negative to smear Xander's opinion about him. And keep in mind, ever since the killing game was announced, David (most likely) automatically went in his head "Well, it's only a matter before we all die" yet he still desperately tries to keep up his happy go lucky facade, even when he knows he could die the very next day

I found it kinda odd he never really played a big part until after chapter 2, episode 4 where he became the so called 'leader' and started the plan to share secrets again. But wasn't this also after the end of the first trial where he says "I lost hope, I won't bother to keep it up anymore, we are all going to die here" <- paraphrasing rn, don't kill me. And yet he STILL tries to keep up the persona. I remember one blog made a post about how David's plan was actually better than what the cast could've done (sit around the let the motives be revealed or reveal them without permission) which I agree with. But then it backfired and everyone started to gain up on David during the trial. I think the straw that broke the camel's back was when Teruko said David has been faking not only his personality, but also being a good person. Like damn girl, you think he's a bad person just cause you caught him saying a few negative things to himself? It fits with her character of not trusting people, but still. All that was revealed about his 'true true' personality was that he was some mildly bitchy introvert that wanted to sleep in I have no idea where I am going with this, but these are some findings that I thought was interesting enough to share with you (hopefully I'm sending it to the right blog as well). I guess what I'm trying to say is not only does David truly care about Xander, but possibly everyone else in the cast (he probably even had some respect for Teruko, until Xander died, which is a whole other can of worms, but I also think he blames her for Xander's death and her secret he received in chapter 2 only verifies his belief) And (this is also an extremely long stretch but also worth considering) the gag comic that the dev made I think? 2021 ish? Where David received too many letters and he was worried how he would get through all of them? It wasn't even his idea to throw them out, it was Whit's (to which, David even asked him isn't that a little mean?). It shows that David still cares about his fans (again, it's a really big stretch, but still has the character's canon personalities, since the dev themself made it)

first off, thank you for the submission lexi! i hope you don’t mind that i transferred your ask to this blog ^^

and yeah, i noticed these things too, but in my opinion it may mostly be an indication that david is adamant about maintaining his persona and what the cast expects from him.

(take this with a grain of salt)

despite his (at the very least) pessimistic dialogue at the end of chapter one, i think he tries to consistently keep the “ideal image” that the rest of the cast expects from him as the ultimate inspirational speaker—leading the group, presenting that entire plan (despite likely making it up on the spot), etc—in the beginning of chapter two. similar to what you said, i think it’s a very interesting contradiction to have david act so pessimistic and say that they’re “all certainly going to die here,” and then suddenly find him within the next few days leading the group and doing everything he possibly could to keep his plan going. like i mentioned in this older post, david’s plan was likely better than any of the alternatives—and based on the fact he could potentially convince everyone to follow a separate path from what he outlined in ch2 ep4, it’s likely that he wasn’t actually attempting to “foster the right atmosphere for murder to occur,” like he claimed in episode 11.

so if he was trying to help and prevent another murder despite the (very) limited means to do so—despite him clearly saying how they’re all going to die the chapter before—it might point to the fact that david is pressured by his own reputation to act in a way that is fitting for an inspirational speaker, regardless of all of his slip-ups from earlier. after all, david may have felt that it was wrong to watch all of the discourse happening in ch2 ep4 and not do something about it, especially since he has a career that literally helps other people for a living.

however, this internal(?) pressure could imply that he sets unrealistic expectations on himself to maintain that image—which might explain why, despite his slip-up in the prologue only showing us that he was more pessimistic and lazy than the cast expected, he was paranoid enough to check on xander and teruko. as implied from the MV and all of the secrets that it has, there’s a lot of evidence that points to david not feeling human (the dolls, the albino mouse / arabidopsis / footnote 2)—instead, he thinks of himself as a sort of “model organism” and someone who’s supposed to hold up an ideal for everyone else to follow. if this is true, this may explain why he felt cautious enough to go out of his way and monitor(?) the two people who may know something past his persona/reputation—true, it is only human to feel negative emotions and express them outwardly, but in david’s case he may hold incredibly high expectations for himself as a role model and pretend that he’s immune to those emotions. after all, he doesn’t feel like he’s human.

i also agree on the “he at the very least had an iota of respect for the rest of the cast at one point” part <-paraphrased. no specific evidence for this but i might get to it later

i hope you get what i mean. (-.-;) thank you again for the submission!

#bagel’s asks #bagel’s train of thought #drdt #danganronpa despair time #despair time #david chiem #fangan #fanganronpa #slightly shorter post #again thank you for the ask!

[mxdnights0]

Fishhooks

Authors Note: This chapter is a little different. It is from the perspective of Tigris Snow, and its her thoughts during some of the events up until now. Its a bit shorter the regular chapters, but next chapters will be longer :)

Tigris’ POVIf I had known what all of this would come to, I wouldn’t have been as sure of myself when I helped him. Corio was such a sweet child, and he had been my best friend. I had asked myself what had happened. What had changed in him.

 I used to have him clinging to my arm.. Hiding behind me when he got too scared of being in front of people, and now? He wouldn’t even spare a second to even look at me. I understood that losing Grandma'am hurt, especially since he was still in district 2 when it happened. I understood more than anything. 

I was alone until Corio came back to the capitol, working every day to the bone just to make ends meet and be able to feed myself. There were days I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep because I had to stay awake incase people got too close. Then, Corio came home. He wasn’t the same anymore.We moved into the flat we had all shared before, but he had the locks changed so I couldn’t get in once he finally moved up to be Doctor Gaul’s apprentice. He got me a job as a stylist for District 4 in the games, but he refused to see me.

That's when I realized something. He was just like his father, and he was no longer the boy I had protected when we grew up. That's when I started to change too. I no longer saw him as the little boy I longed to have back, but what he was truly turning into. A creature of immense hate. Of hunger for power. It wasn’t until I met Mags Flanagan that I realized just how evil he could be.

The first time I saw Mags cry was the night of the interviews. She sang a song. It was a beautiful but woeful tune that had etched its way into my brain just the year before. Lucy Gray, I remembered. The girl no one was to speak of. I had been through my fair share of breakups, but none had resulted in forcing the entirety of Panem to never mention them again.

I walked into the observation deck where I had seen the peacekeepers drag Mags into. I know I shouldn’t, but Mags had become my friend. I was worried about her. She had crumbled onto the ground, her chest rising and falling slowly. I rushed over, dropping to my knees and helping her sit up. It revealed a bright red handmark on the side of her face that set an ice cold stab into my heart. “Corio did this..?” Mags only nodded, her eyes so full of tears that it seemed she could explode if anything weren’t let out soon. Her eyes went to the screen, mine following as I saw the horrors. Mags family, all dead. From her parents to her siblings. The youngest had only been one year old, Mags told me. My heart were completely and utterly shattered as I pulled Mags into a hug, my eyes not leaving the screen. Coriolanus was just like his father now, and he was not family anymore. I think that was when the hatred started.

I knew then that I could never stand with him on things again. We’d never see eye to eye on anything again. The Corio I knew died the moment he entered that arena. My cousin died when the rebels bombed it. This Coriolanus wasn’t anyone I wanted to be associated with, and in a way? I wasn’t upset. I had never disliked him before, even though I had sacrificed everything in my being to protect him during the dark days. The nights I had gone without food just so he had enough for his stomach to not ache at night. It was like he had seen those sacrifices and spat on them. He obviously didn’t care about me, so I would learn to forget about any love I still had for him. I’d never support anyone that would kill innocent people for the fun of it. 

As I held Mags in my arms, trying desperately for her to get a solid breath in and out, I forgot how messy things could be. This had been the horrible downfall of almost an entire family line. Mags was alone now. Going into the games. With no one to trust, because I know for a fact that Dolion would betray her without a second thought, not a single thought in his tiny little mind. I had a job now, and that was to be there for Mags. We both knew that behind her bold and loud front, she was like fine china. Fragile and small. Easily breakable. She would win these games, and I would be there to pick the pieces of her up, put her back together. I had to. And if Coriolanus were to ever see a downfall like he deserved, I knew I wanted to be part of it.

I was done with being treated like that. I wouldn’t let myself be used for someone else's gain anymore. I wasn’t a pushover. Not anymore.

#finnick odair #josh hutcherson #hunger games #the hunger games #mags flanagan is a bisexual icon #mags flanagans games #mags flanagan #tigris snow #tbosbas #president snow

[blvckqwz]

Lies

Isabelle was mad at Carl.

Because he cared. But she didn’t, at least not anymore. And it annoyed her that someone cared. Her dad didn’t care, he never did. Her uncle cared a bit, but he cared more about other things. Her mom once cared, but now couldn’t anymore, because she wasn’t even there to witness her daughter crumbling apart.

And Isabelle didn’t care anymore, because caring meant eventually losing, and she was tired of that. She couldn’t afford to care, because it means following her heart, and her heart always brought her to the worst places ever. 

Last time it was a slaughterhouse run by cannibals, what will it be next time? She decided that she wasn’t willing to find out. 

“Hey, earlier you were watching us?” She could hear Rick ask the priest as she got closer to the rest of the group. 

Rick was just like a cop, probably because he was before the outbreak. Isabelle wondered why her dad was friends with a cop, if cops were bad and Rick was a cop. Things have changed, she thought. 

Carl was nice but he was the son of a cop. But now it was okay for them to be friends, because real cops didn’t exist anymore. He didn’t act like a cop anyway. 

“I keep to myself.” Gabriel replied, “Nowadays people are just as dangerous as the dead, don’t you think?” No, they are worse, Isabelle wanted to say, but Rick beat her to it. She could see the priest's expression falter a bit, and she wondered if maybe it was really a trap. 

“Well I wasn’t watching you.” He then assured them, “I haven't been beyond the stream near my church more than a few times since it all started. That was the furthest I've gone before today.” He explained.

Then a sinister light reflected in his eyes, “Or maybe I'm lying. Maybe I'm lying about everything and there's no church ahead at all. Maybe I'm leading you into a trap so I can steal all your squirrels.” He spoke and Isabelle felt panicked. 

Crap, she knew it. You can’t even trust priests now. 

A tense silence fell, and the girl started to grip to her hatchet tighter, just like everyone else did with their weapon. Her gaze fell on her dad, his jaw clenched as he shot a dirty look at the priest. His eyes were vigilant, focussed on the threat. Isabelle almost found him scary.

“Members of my flock had often told me that my sense of humor leaves much to be desired.” Gabriel said with an awkward smile, and Isabelle realized that he was just trying to make a joke.

“Yeah I wonder why.” She spat before she could even realize, suddenly feeling aware that no one knew she was there the whole time. She could have been torn apart and eaten by walkers, but no one would know if she just managed to stay quiet.

But the result would be the same. She would be dead.

Her father must have also just become aware of his daughter's presence, because when she looked up to him his eyes were already fixed on her, the usual scowl on his face. Isabelle just rolled her eyes before shifting her weight from one foot to another and crossing her arms.

Gabriel didn’t say any more stupid shit, and for that Isabelle was glad. She was still angry and her head still hurt, but at least now they were walking in silence.

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Turns out that the church did really exist, even if it was old and creepy looking. It didn’t look like the house of God, if Isabelle had to be honest it looked more like one of those haunted houses that rich folks set up on halloween. But she couldn’t really be sure because she had never seen one.

The paint was chipping off the worn walls, giving the building a shabby look. The roof was rusty, with dark orange spots all over it. It was ugly, but Isabelle couldn’t really complain, because she would rather sleep in an ugly building rather than in the cold woods, without knowing what lurked in the dark around her. It wasn’t like the places she had stayed before were much more fancy than a dusty church.

She felt a presence near her, and she hoped that it was Carl. But she knew only one person who was able to sneak up on her without making any noise, and that wasn’t Carl. 

“You tired?” Her father asked from behind her, his voice low. Isabelle had to bite her tongue to refrain from saying mean things. 

Like you care.

She just shrugged, looking down at her shoes. She didn’t know what was getting over her, she just knew that she wasn’t afraid of him and his wrath like she used to be when she was a little kid. Because Isabelle had seen worse, she had done worse, than a few slaps and some yells. 

So she was feeling brave, which meant that it was her turn now to be an asshole. Isabelle doubted that he would beat her up in front of all those people, but you never know, so she stayed quiet.

She could feel his gaze on the back of her head, but she didn’t turn around to meet his eyes. She just stood there like an idiot, waiting for his next move.

Daryl sighed, and even if she wasn’t looking at him she knew that he was probably wiping his hand on his face like he always did when he was mad. She hoped he wasn’t that mad, because she wasn’t that brave.

“Listen…” He began, but a shout from ahead of them cut him off before he could even begin to ramble. The man looked up to Rick who was calling for him, saying something about clearing the church. 

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Like Isabelle gave half a fuck about the church. If the creepy priest wanted their squirrels then let it be. She knew that it was stupid thing to think, because the man could do much worse than taking their squirrels, but she couldn’t bring herself to really care. 

“We’ll talk later.” Her father grumbled before walking past her towards the church. Isabelle didn’t reply, her eyes still fixed on her shoes. “Stay with Carl.” He added as he turned around to look at her. She didn’t look up. He dropped his shoulders, sighed again and then entered the church.

Isabelle looked at him just soon enough to see his figure disappearing behind the wooden door. She felt a little bad for not talking to him, but she knew that he never did when he ignored her for all those years. 

It was confusing, and she didn’t have time for confusing things. 

She walked towards Carl, who was holding his baby sister. Isabelle smiled when the baby’s face turned around enough to look at her and her big dark eyes met her blue ones. 

“Hey.” She greeted Carl as she stood on his side. He looked up at her and then smiled. He was much better at smiling than her. His smile looked like a sunny sky, hers looked more like a dying cat begging for mercy. 

“Are you okay?” He then asked, shifting the baby in his arms as he eyed her worriedly. 

“Yeah, I’m better now.” Isabelle forced out another painful smile as she felt like the biggest liar in the world. She just didn’t want to think that something might be really wrong with her. 

Carl hummed even if he didn’t really sound convinced. Isabelle sat down on the dirt and brought her knees up to her, not really caring about staining her jeans. They were already filthy anyway. She heard Carl sit down too, spreading his legs in front of him as little Judith sat on his lap. 

“She’s so cute.” The girl said as she watched the baby giggle about whatever, clenching and unclenching her small fists. Babies were just weird like that sometimes. “Yeah, she is.” Carl proudly replied as he also watched his sister, “But she’s getting too heavy for me, she will have to learn to walk soon.” Isabelle wondered how old she was when she started walking. She doubted either her father or uncle remembered, but she was sure that she was older than Judith was. It must be awful to have to grow up so fast in such a bad environment. “Do you think he’s okay?” Carl whispered as he nodded towards the priest standing in front of the church. 

Isabelle shrugged, “I think he’s just a bit of chicken. But he has survived until now, so he must be a little smart at least.” “I think it would be good if he turned out to be decent.” The boy replied, “We could use a place to sleep.” He said, turning around to look at her, “Especially some of us.” 

Isabelle couldn’t really tell if he was talking about her or not, so she just hugged her knees and shrugged, looking at the dirt in front of them. 

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

A whistle blew from inside the church, and soon enough everyone exited. Rick looked over at them and he nodded. Isabelle thought he was smiling, but she couldn’t understand with all that beard. 

“I spent months here without stepping out the front door. If you found someone inside, well, it would have been surprising.” Gabriel said as he got closer to the men. Isabelle and Carl also reached them, but while he went towards his father she just stayed a bit behind, eyeing hers. He still looked sour, so nothing new.

“Thank you for this.” The boy said with his usual smile. 

A shiver ran on Isabelle’s back as they entered the church, making her hide behind her uncle, who shot what she assumed was supposed to be a reassuring look before turning back around, following the group. 

The church was pretty dark inside, and it was just as creepy as the outside. The dim light made it look like some kind of dream. Isabelle recognized the altar in front of them, a lot of benches in front of it. They didn’t look very comfortable to sleep on, but everything was better than the dirt. 

“We found a short bus out back. It don't run, but I bet we could fix that in less than a day or two. Father here says he doesn't want it. Looks like we found ourselves some transport.” Abraham spoke to Rick, “You understand what's at stake here, right?”

“Yes, I do.” The man replied with a serious tone. Isabelle wasn’t sure that she shared the same understanding.

“Now that we can take a breath–” Michonne got cut off by Merle.

“We take a breath, we slow down, shit inevitably goes down.” Her uncle scoffed, “I agree with the gingerbread man.” Daryl shot him a warning look, probably about something Isabelle didn’t know they had talked about, perhaps about Merle’s loudmouth.

“We need supplies no matter what we do next.” Michonne gave Merle a dirty look, like she was daring him to disagree with her. “That's right. Water, food, ammunition.” Rick replied, ignoring the tension between the Dixon brothers and the woman.

Daryl agreed with a grunt, earning a scoff from his older brother. 

Isabelle decided to flee before the situation escalated, because she really didn’t want to see her uncle throwing punches in the house of the Lord. So she slipped right past him and the rest of the group and instead decided to explore a bit of the creepy church. 

There were empty cans of food around the altar, Isabelle noticed as she walked towards it. Weird. He said he always stayed close, but he had lots of food. That was really weird. 

She would talk about it with her dad if she could stand him. And she knew that if her uncle heard about it hell would break loose. Maybe she’ll tell Carl, if he swore not to snitch. 

She wandered around the dark hallways, careful not to step on anything and alerting everyone that she was indeed snooping. 

A framed phrase caught her attention. It had dust on it, but she still recognized the words. 

“and let us not grow weary of doing good. For in due season we will reap if we do not give up”

It was Galatians 6:9. Isabelle didn’t know what it meant, it was just written under the phrase. Must be a christian book. She liked the phrase, very fitting. She didn’t have to feel stupid because she believed in good people. And she shouldn’t stop being good just because other people did. That was why Isabelle liked to listen to priests talking, because they always had something very smart to say. 

“You shouldn’t be spying into other people’s houses, that’s a sin.” A voice called from behind her.

Maybe she didn’t like to listen to all priests, just some of them. Just the ones that didn’t look like they were about to murder you right where you were standing.

“I wasn’t spying. I’m just checking.” Isabelle crossed her arms, “You got something to hide?” She inquired. She felt stupid for arguing with him. Now he was going to kill her and feed her to the rats that probably lived in that dusty place.

Gabriel made another of his creepy smiles, “Not at all, check all you want.” 

Isabelle nodded, but didn’t turn back around. What if she did and he smashed a shovel or something behind her head, knocking her out? 

Nope, she was staying alert, like her dad always taught her to be. She couldn’t feel her hatchet on her, she must have left it somewhere. She really was stupid.

“You like the phrase?” The priest nodded towards the frame behind her, “More people should listen to it, don’t you think?” “We have been out there long enough to know not to trust every sign we read.” Isabelle replied. Her mind went back to those train tracks where she and Carl saw the Terminus’s signs for the first time. 

Sanctuary for all my ass.

The priest chuckled, “You are smart. That’s good.” The girl was a little taken aback. She wasn’t smart. She was quite the opposite. Everyone made sure to remind her, especially her father.

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

“Are you a real priest?” She changed the subject. 

“Do you need to see a license?” He joked. Okay maybe he was a bit funny. 

The girl shook her head, “It would be a really bad sin if you just lied.” 

“You believe in God?” He was now the one taken aback. 

Isabelle shrugged, “I used to. Now it doesn’t really matter.”

The priest gave her an unreadable look and the girl started to really wonder if he was going to kill her for saying such a sacrilege. 

“Isabelle! Where the heck are ya?!” She heard her father shout from the entrance of the church where the group probably still stood, and for the first time she was happy to hear him. 

She said goodbye to Gabriel with a nod and she quickly scrambled back to where she heard her father’s voice come from. She stopped in a halt once she saw him, his furious eyes fixed on her. And he was alone. Crap, here comes the beating.

Isabelle sucked in a breath as she walked towards him, her eyes fixed on her shoes. It was starting to become a habit of hers, but the girl was beginning to find the tip of her dusty boots much more interesting than whatever surrounded her.

“What in the world is wrong with ya?” He grumbled as he closed the distance between them, grabbing her by her bad arm and dragging her away from the hallways, “Don’t ya ever dare disappearin’ again like that, hear me?” Isabelle let out a pained yelp at the feeling of pressure applied on her bruised arm, trying to shake her father’s hand off her, “Let go! Let go!” She yelled as she kept struggling against his firm grip, “It hurts! Let go!” But her father didn’t listen, instead he tightened his grasp even more, making the girl let out another screech, “Let go dad!” She hooted.

Daryl froze for a second, looking down at his daughter's teary eyes. But then decided to keep going, yanking the girl with him.

Isabelle could feel her head pounding as she kept trying to get out his hold, but it was no use. She didn’t want to start crying, to prove that she was still the same crybaby, but the pain in her arm was unbearable.

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Her head kept buzzing even louder as her father dragged her across the church. She let out a yell as his grip tightened, “Wha’ is wrong with ya, uh?” 

Isabelle didn’t answer, instead cried in pain as Darly shook her, “Quit bein’ a baby, c’mon.” The girl’s tears made her vision blurry as she stumbled across something on the floor, almost falling. Daryl’s grip loosened and Isabelle understood that it was now or ever. So she shoved her father with all the strength that she could muster, which wasn’t much but enough to make him back off a bit. 

It came like a reflex, a hand crashing on her cheek, the sting bringing an odd sense of familiarity in Isabelle as she watched her father retreat his arm like he had burnt it. Like he was the one who was hurt.

Her father looked at her with wide eyes as silence fell between them. Isabelle touched her bad arm with the other hand, and it hurt like a bitch. If it wasn’t completely broken before, now it is for sure. “I told you it hurt.” Isabelle barked, “Why do you never listen?” All the shouting must have attracted the rest of the group, because a few seconds later Maggie came bursting inside the church. But Daryl didn’t care, his eyes still wide as he watched the girl send him a hateful glare through her tears. 

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

“Isabelle, honey, are you okay?” Maggie launched herself to the girl, putting herself between her and Daryl as she checked her for any injury. Her cheek was turning red, but aside from that nothing was wrong. Apparently at least.

The girl nodded, but her eyes were distant. She tugged her sleeve, her eyes now back to her shoes. Maggie didn’t seem convinced, but it was clear that Isabelle wasn’t going to talk anytime soon, so she just shot Daryl a warning look before going away.

Isabelle wanted to cry, but she didn’t have any more tears in her body, which made her feel even more awful. There wasn’t much left to do if not try to swallow the lump in her throat and hope that the slap wouldn’t leave a bruise. It reminded her of the good old times before the apocalypse. Things never change. 

Nothing gets better. Her mom is still away. Her dad is still an asshole. She is still a crybaby. Nothing changes. No one changes.

“Isabelle I-” Her father took a step towards her, but Isabelle took two behind her, keeping the distance.

“Don’t.” She hissed, “Don’t say you are sorry. You aren’t.” “I am.” He said, “I really am.” Isabelle just looked him dead in the eyes, “I don’t believe anything that comes out of your mouth.” She tried to sound like she wasn’t crying until a few minutes ago, but her voice was betraying her. It didn’t matter though, because her dad knew. He always did. Daryl sighed, his head dropping, “I know. And I get it.” He murmured, “But I ain’t lying baby, I’m really sorry. For everything.” He took another step towards her. Isabelle took another two back.

“Just leave me alone. It doesn’t matter anymore.” She could feel tears slipping from her eyes. Turns out she still had some of them left. 

“I… I can’t.” Her father said, “You’re my daughter.” Something inside Isabelle’s little heart switched. Sadness turned into anger. She bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood, but she knew that it wouldn’t stop the hateful words from slipping out of her mouth. Nothing could anymore.

“I ain’t your daughter. You stopped bein’ my father the day you left me in that trailer park.” She spat, “You ain’t anything but a liar.” “Isabelle…” Her father walked towards his daughter, “I’m sorry.” He spoke all too sincerely. He looked sad. Like he deserved to be sad. Like he deserved to be anything. 

“Shut up, I don’t wanna hear it anymore.” She spat, “Dixons don’t apologize. Dixons don’t cry.” She repeated the mantra she had grown up with.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to do.” He mumbled, “I ain’t good with this shit, but I’ll try. I promise.” Isabelle almost felt like forgiving him. Even if he never did, even if he would hit her if the roles were reversed and she was the one crying. But the beast inside her heart and her head called for blood. She didn’t know how to forgive, no one ever taught her.

“I hate you.” She spoke every syllable and Daryl was sure that it felt worse than having a hundred knives in his heart, “I hate you for being a shitty dad. I have you for leaving. I hate you for not caring.” Now it was Isabelle’s turn to walk towards him, pushing him with her good hand, “How does it feel uh?” She asked as she watched her father's eyes water up.

 “I love you.” The words came like a whisper but felt like a whole mountain had crumbled on Isabelle as she widened her eyes. He never told her that he loved her. Not when she had to go to the hospital when she was five because she had fallen off a tree and broke her leg. Not when it was her birthday. Never.

“I love ya more than anythin’ else in this world.” Her father’s lips trembled, “And I’m so sorry for making ya believe that I didn’t.” 

“Stop lying.” Tears started to flow again from Isabelle’s eyes as she hit him again.

“I ain’t lyin’. I love you Isabelle.” Daryl said.

“Liar!” She yelled, “I hate you!” 

A pair of arms wrapped around her, her voice muffled by his chest. A hand ran through her brown hair, like he did when she was young, “Why are you doing this to me?” He could hear her mumble as he kept caressing her head. 

Daryl chewed the inside of his lip, “I don’ know baby.” He murmured, “I don’ know why I am a shitty dad, but I’ll make up for it.” 

“You left me.” Isabelle buried her face deeper in her father’s chest to hide the tears that were coming out her eyes. 

“I know baby. I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse. He knew why he did it, but she didn’t, and it had to stay that way. Even if it meant that she would hate him for that, “I’ll never leave you again, I promise.” He whispered, “I love you Bambi.” A loud sob came out from Isabelle’s lips, and for the first time in years she cried. Really cried. Without holding back, without swallowing the knot that was starting to untie in her throat. 

She sobbed in her father's arms, like she did when she was a little kid. Like when she was still his Bambi and the world seemed like a happy place. She cried because it would never be the same again and because she wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad thing. 

She cried because she could cry, because she was alive with a roof on her head and her father with her. She cried because for the first time she felt loved, because she was safe now. 

Isabelle had a lot of reasons to cry and she never realized it.

#fanfic #twd x reader #twd fanfiction #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x oc #the walking dead #isabelle dixon #lost kids ff