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philliamwrites · 3 years

Text

Son cœur

Fandom: The Case Study of Vanitas (by Mochizuki Jun)

Pairing: Noé/Vanitas

Tags: #alternate chapter 16, #implied/referenced child abuse, #implied/referenced rape/non-con, #tragic past, #vanitas has like a bijillion problems, #and noé is one of them, #angst and feels, #blood drinking, #spoilers 4th manga

Words: 3.5k

Summary: Captured by the Chasseurs, Vanitas and Noé have to find a way out that hopefully doesn't end with Noé's head off and Vanitas's friend account of 1 being reduced by 1.

Son cœur

It was only fair to say everything was Noé’s fault.

As much as Vanitas felt content with a useful shield like him, he felt incredible irritation more than anything else, and too close to burst at the seams with searing anger. Infiltrating the place of the Chasseurs had been way too easy. Lying came as natural to Vanitas as breathing, even though he sort of wondered about the spontaneity regarding the names he came up with. Gilbert and Vincent … well, worse names existed.

In the end, Vanitas should have known. They had survived the Bal Masqué after all and even then Vanitas had been a first row spectator to the inimitable piece of art Noé Archiviste was. Noé didn’t just overthrow his principles and injure people or act ruthless. He’d rather let them crucify him if his sacrifice meant everyone's benediction, and now this very naiveté and lack of cold-heartedness caused their imprisonment.

For someone drinking as much blood as Noé undoubtedly had over the span of his life, his soul was surprisingly clean—much the opposite of Vanitas’, who imagined a black, rotting canvas with deformed moths eating black holes into its fabric sitting in a dark corner hidden from the world’s greedy eyes.

No better time for proof would occur again than this moment: Because Noé had refused to use Maria as a hostage, they had been captured and were now sitting in a bunker, surrounded by thick metal and no escape but the firmly sealed door opposite from Vanitas, waiting for their death.

In moments like these Vanitas felt a suffocating hate towards Noé; this loathing clawed as a slithering, black ruin at his chest and tried to gutter him like a pumpkin; a monster searching for a way outside to set the world in flames, burning down towns and villages, perpetrators and victims alike. This thing and Vanitas were acquainted since a long time, it always felt like a reunion with an old friend rather than the surprise of a stranger standing in front of his door. And yet, what could he do?

Physically, Vanitas was no match for Noé. Sure, he had the Book of Vanitas, but what would it use him to look for Noé’s true name and turn him into a Curse-Bearer. Both options would end in Vanitas experiencing a lot of pain he’d rather gladly pass on, so he pushed those thoughts far away and returned staring at Noé as if mere observating and a steely resolve were enough to solve why Noé acted the way he did. If there was one thing Vanitas hated more than the Vampire of the Blue Moon and questions about himself, it was questions about others he couldn’t simply answer with his observation skills only. And out of everyone, Noé ended up to be the best example.

“Mon dieu, could you please stop jumping around and sit for a moment?” Vanitas demanded; his very first words since their imprisonment, because he’d been sure the first thing to come out of his mouth were obscene insults. Noé threw him a quick glance over his shoulder, his red eyes a dim glimmer in the barely lighted room.

“If I sit, I can’t get us out of here,” Noé simply replied, then punched the metal wall again. The loud bang echoed through their cell. Somewhere at the back of Vanitas’ head a dull throbbing found its home and refused to leave.

“So far, you are doing a miserable job in trying to free us, Noé,” Vanitas remarked with a bored expression, ignoring how smooth and easy Noé’s name usually slid over his lips, but now felt like a thick layer on his tongue trying to suffocate him. Vanitas draped himself on the ground to stretch his long legs, propping his chin on a hand. He closed his eyes and counted to ten to get a hold of himself and come up with a better plan, but only managed to reach three when another bang vibrated through his body, the dull throbbing wandering to his temples.

“Noé,” he repeated, this time sharper. “Stop it. You’re wasting energy. Save it until the Chasseurs return. Until then, there is no way for us to escape.” Vanitas knew sometimes admitting defeat bore more results than clawing at impenetrable walls and ripping your fingers bloody in the process.

“What are you talking about?” Noé’s voice rang out to Vanitas, clear as a bell despite his smooth and deep voice. Vanitas looked up. “There is always a way.”

Without an immediate response, Vanitas couldn’t do anything but stare for a moment, taken aback because this was surely the third time or so Noé was able to struck Vanitas speechless. And Vanitas, usually so sure and knowing about the turmoil of his emotions (or lack thereof at times), was left with feelings he couldn’t quite place or decipher, and he wished for nothing else but to rip himself open and dissect every bit until he knew what foul play was at hand.

The audacity of Noé holding that power without even realizing was quite infuriating.

“Oh?” Vanitas didn’t even try to hide the mock in his voice. “Then please, be my guest and show me the way out.” Noé didn’t move (what else did Vanitas expect) but a familiar crease found its way between Noé’s pale eyebrows, signalling the boy’s brain at work.

“Don’t overdo yourself using that pretty head of yours,” Vanitas offered with a crooked grin, but either Noé didn’t hear him or ignored the statement (both was fine because Vanitas couldn’t explain why he felt obliged to add the unnecessary last part) because he turned away, sinking down until he was hovering above the spot on the wall where his fist had left a dent. Vanitas stared at his back, his broad shoulders, the tips of his white hair curling at the base of his neck and thought, Do not turn away from me, Noé, and then with the same breath It is better you do not look at me with those eyes begging for allowance to save me. Vanitas closed his eyes, the soft lines of Noé’s shoulder blades against the dark fabric of his jacket still on his mind.

“There is a way,” Noé repeated, and when Vanitas opened his eyes again, he met Noé’s watching him. “But you won’t like it.”

“I won’t like it,” Vanitas repeated, turning Noé’s words a little, claiming them his own. Vanitas dropped his head from his hand, lowering it until the cool, smooth stone touched his forehead, and turned to his side so he was able to look better at Noé. “What exactly won’t I like about it, pray tell, Noé.” He really should stop saying Noé’s name so much.

“I can break through this wall, but I need more strength,” Noé replied, straight to the case, (though sometimes Vanitas questioned the straight because he sure never missed how Noé’s eyes seemed to follow him a second longer than necessary; linger a little longer on the curve of his neck, the bow of his ankles and wrists, the arch of his calves). “And you can give me exactly what I need, Vanitas.”

“And I can give you exactly what you need, Noé.” He really couldn’t stop saying Noé’s name so much. But that aside, Vanitas didn’t stop the bark of laughter exploding from his lips like a gunshot— a humourless and harsh sound caught between them in their steely cage. “Isn’t this convenient? We’re trapped and the only way to get out is by you drinking my blood!”

“This isn’t convenient,” Noé objected, looking everywhere but at Vanitas. “I know you don’t want me to do it.”

“‘Don’t want to,’" Vanitas said, "seems like the understatement of this century considering I said I will kill you should you ever drink my blood, Archiviste.” He noticed the small flinch in Noé’s shoulders, the glimpse of recognition in Noé’s eyes. The memory of their talk was so visible in Noé’s expression Vanitas expected to see blood all over him with how Noé wore his heart bluntly exposed on his sleeves.

“You can do that after I get you out,” Noé said slowly. “It beats being killed by those vampire hunters.”

Now, that was something interesting. In his line of job, Vanitas always paid attention to what people said and how they said it. So much meaning was left hanging in the air, so much ammunition to benefit from. And this one clearly said one thing. I don’t mind dying if it’s you killing me.

Vanitas gifted Noé with one of his razor sharp smiles. “Oh, the things you say. Maybe I should really cut your head off once you get us out of here. I’m sure Roland will gladly lend me Durandal.”

Surprisingly, Noé didn’t flinch. He probably already knew that for all the foul things Vanitas’ mouth spouted he only turned a few of them into action. And yet, Vanitas felt the familiar itch in his fingers demanding to see blood spilled at the atrocity they were to commit, and the only way of making it bearable was to mock the situation— an ability Vanitas was unrivalled at.

He tapped a gloved index finger against his chin, not bothering to change his current position on the dirty ground. “Maybe I’ll let you if you ask nicely.”

Noé waited a moment for Vanitas to follow with a more serious statement (clearly overestimating him), but when Vanitas remained silent, save for the mysterious little smile on his thin lips, Noé grew exasperated. “This isn’t a game, Vanitas,” he said.

“Of course it isn’t.” Vanitas shrugged, playfully twirling a black strand of hair around his finger. "Doesn’t mean I don’t want to get something out of this and hear you beg for it.”

Noé possessed enough dignity to roll his eyes at that. “Please let me drink your blood, Vanitas,” he said with a blank expression.

Vanitas winked at him. “How about you invite me to dine first?”

Noé groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Never mind. I should have known you would only make light of the matter.”

“Because you know me oh so well, don’t you?” Vanitas inquired, not even trying to contain the venom dripping from his voice. Noé peeked at him from behind his long, slender fingers. He reminded Vanitas of a pet scolded by its owner and left to fend for itself.

When Noé didn’t show any sign of commitment to his proposal, Vanitas grew impatient.

“Noé,” Vanitas said. “Come here.”

He didn’t move, so Vanitas repeated, “Noé.”

Finally, he got up. His movement was careful but determined, and Vanitas wondered about the things Noé was actually afraid of and how his walk would change should he face it. He really ought to ask him about this Louis some day. It was impossible for this name to lack any significance with how often Noé claimed it in his sleep, body flinching and fingers clawing into the sheets in desperate search for hold.

When Noé finally stood in front of him, Vanitas lazily lifted a hand like a fair maiden waiting for her lover to take the delicate hand and cover it with soft, feathery kisses. Only once Noé’s fingers grazed Vanitas’, he curled them around Noé’s hand (only now Vanitas noticed Noé’s knuckles bleeding from hitting the wall) and pulled him down. It wasn’t enough for Noé to lose his balance; it seemed more like he allowed Vanitas to pull him down which struck a nerve inside Vanitas and added more fuel to his annoyance regarding this whole situation.

He propped himself on his elbows, cocking his head to the side and presenting his bare neck to Noé like a sacrificial lamb displayed for Gods to rip apart.

“Very well,” he said quietly, looking up at Noé from under his thick curtains of black lashes. “Let us begin then.”

Noé, much like a dog finally allowed to act with its master’s consent, leaned over Vanitas; a hand on his chest as Vanitas’ fingers danced over the black fabric of Noé’s uniform. The little sound escaping Noé’s lips when Vanitas flipped him over and straddled his lap was a small treasure Vanitas would wrap up and hide somewhere deep in his chest to unfold later to study.

“Do you really think I’d make it that easy for you?” Vanitas snorted, leaving the how stupid unsaid, but definitely palpable between them. He lifted his left hand and pulled the glove off with his teeth.

“There are two conditions,” Vanitas said as his glove fell off, and he fought against the shudder dancing over his arm and taking over his whole body, telling (but not able to fool) himself it was from the cold in the cell rather than feeling exposed and naked without his glove. Noé nodded, and Vanitas raised one finger. “After you have drunk, you will say nothing.” Noé nodded again, so Vanitas raised the second. “After we get out of here, you will say nothing and should you ever try and so much as hint at talking about it, I will kill you.”

Noé refused to look away, and Vanitas refused to yield to this want of stripping bare to his inner core in front of those piercing red eyes. Should Noé ever get a good look at what lurked beneath Vanitas’ smooth, alabaster white skin, he'd only find worms and cockroaches scurrying around spoiled, rotten soil Gaia herself wouldn’t even weep for.

“Tell me you understood what I just said,” Vanitas demanded, hovering over Noé’s face.

Noé exhaled slowly, the tip of his tongue darting over his lower lip. Vanitas wanted to punch him.

“I won’t talk about it,” he said, and because he was Noé of course he had to add, “Not until it is of your own accord.”

This time, Vanitas’ face lacked his usual malicious glee. Through half-lidded eyes, he considered Noé what felt like painfully slow passing minutes, though it were only a few seconds later when he said, “It won’t and you better be careful of expecting it if you value your life.”

Noé swallowed, but Vanitas couldn’t tell if it was because of his deadly promise or the hunger just before anticipating a meal, and in the end he didn’t really care.

“Well then.” Vanitas offered Noé his left bare arm. “Bon appétit.”

To his credit, Noé didn’t immediately go down on him (though Vanitas caught glimpses of wishes in his mind of Noé going down on him) and first took careful hold of Vanitas’ bony wrist as if he was allowed to carry the world’s most precious treasure between his fingers (which was just really unnecessary because Noé should know that for someone with slim wrists Vanitas was surprisingly strong). He pushed a thumb against the inside of Vanitas’ wrist and Vanitas dared ihm with his blank expression to comment on the stumble of his heartbeat before it returned to its natural rhythm, but Noé wasn’t even looking at him, focusing way too much on simply feeling Vanitas’ pulse for a moment, and surprisingly Vanitas felt himself grow impatient. He didn’t know slow or careful or soft, only hard and painful and too fast for him to accommodate to the pain, the fears, the hopelessness.

“Noé, I swear to God, if we don’t get this ov—“ The pain of teeth breaking his skin shouldn’t be that much of a foreign feeling to Vanitas, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from flinching, or gritting his teeth, or subconsciously leaning his upper body away from this vampire; no from Noé drinking blood from his wrist. But it was only the very first seconds that were uncomfortable, then the substance from Noé’s teeth lessening the pain numbed Vanitas’ skin and he closed his eyes, unable to (and he didn’t want to, really) fight against the poison now pumping through his body begging him to let himself relax and just become an animal’s meal; to surrender, and maybe if it was Noé, it would be fine.

Vanitas snickered to himself, swearing to drive his own fingers into his eyes should he continue to think ridiculous things like that. “What would Dominique think looking at you now, clinging to a filthy human, hm?” Vanitas leaned forward again, over the slightly hunched figure of Noé still drinking and sucking and licking, and he wondered which of the countless tragic pages composing Vanitas’ short, miserable life Noé flipped through right now. Did he see Vanitas’ young, small figure standing in front of his dead parents, blood all over the place but not where it was supposed to be— in his mother’s body, and in his father’s body and how could one simple man even carry so much blood inside of him—and little Vanitas not understanding what had happened. Or maybe he saw Vanitas’ early times starting as an experiment of Doctor Moreau, this time being the one bleeding all over the research table, just before Moreau started to see Vanitas in his room, undressing and examining him which he’d usually conducted at nights before starting to do so midday as well (it would certainly be entertaining to see Noé’s reaction should they manage to find the mad scientist). Maybe Noé was currently chasing Vanitas fleeing from the Vampire of the Blue Moon, the dark grimoire clutched tightly to his chest like a life line with a horrified expression Noé surely couldn’t even dream of Vanitas possessing, listening to his repeating “I abandoned him, I abandoned him, he is dead, please God forgive me” over and over again—his first and last prayer to God. “What would she think indeed, mon cheri,” Vanitas whispered. Something warm fell on his skin, and he didn’t need to see to know, because what else did he expect from someone like Noé.

“My, my.” Vanitas couldn’t help but laugh quietly, wondering if Noé in his frenzy heard the surrender in this fragile sound. He placed his free, still gloved hand on Noé’s head and combed with this fingers through Noé’s hair, patting at it and smoothing it back into straight lines falling in front of his face. “You are such a crybaby. I am quite certain de Béranger wrote his music with people like you in his mind.” Son cœur est un luth suspendu; Sitot qu’on le touche il resonne. His heart is a posed lute; as soon as it is touched, it resounds.

Just how could Noé still bring up the energy to care. His heart was open. Never closed, never locked. It needed no key, and Vanitas felt quite displeased with how easy Noé welcomed strangers to his heart.

Finally, Noé released Vanitas’ wrist, but he remained seated, his head hanging low, so Vanitas had to dip his own in search for scarlet red eyes; lacking any interest in tending his wound crying blood all over his arm and jacket. He curled his fingers around Noé’s wet cheeks and lifted his head, trying to ignore the curtain of tears in those pretty ruby mirrors, but it was hard because mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

“Now, I hope you better have learned something from this,” Vanitas said, dragging his left thumb across the corner of Noé’s lips where his blood hung still fresh, but oh so scandalously fitting against Noé’s dark skin that it was truly a piece of art. He pushed his thumb against Noé’s lips, painting them red. “Do never ask me of this again. Even in the depths of hell with you drinking my blood as our only way of salvation, do not ask me of this, Noé,” Vanitas whispered against Noé’s lips in what he clearly saw a cruel mockery and threat, when really Vanitas would rather remain with Noé in hell until the world succumbed to its own rotten core, side by side— which was ridiculous and stupid, because people like Noé didn’t end up in hell like Vanitas. They remained eternal because Gods sacrificed their immortality in show of devotion, and Vanitas would be a hypocrite to accuse them of idiocy.

But what had the Gods given to him? They’d made him a walking disaster, consisting of the lethal combination of an urge for self destruction and a preference for collateral damage, and the only thing Vanitas himself thought about this was, Then so be it, because if I cannot reach heaven, I will raise hell.

True to his word, Noé didn’t say anything.

In fact, he didn’t speak at all after tearing down the wall of their cell with one single punch and gaining Roland’s help in locating Doctor Moraeu, but just one look into his eyes was enough for Vanitas to see what sort of storm caused havoc inside him and uprooted the foundation of Noé’s innocence and benevolent beliefs, and he thought mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

Gardez vos dons : je suis peureux. Mais si d’un zèle généreux Pour moi le monde vous soupçonne, Sachez bien qui vous a vendu : Mon cœur est un luth suspendu, Sitôt qu’on le touche, il résonne.

[Pierre-Jean de Béranger]

#philliamwrites #ao3 #fanfiction #case study of vanitas #vanitas no carte #vannoe #vanitas #noe

22 notes · View notes

tobesobri · 4 years

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𝓣here’s slight mention of past sexual assault in this one, similarly to chapter 5, so don’t read if you’re not comfortable! Thank you all so much for the love on Chapter 6! We’re finally halfway through the story!! And it may or may not all go downhill from here 😬

huge massive thank you to the incredible @youresogolden-h for editing ❤️

CHAPTER SEVEN: DON’T CHANGE YOUR MIND (3.8K)

Harry and Y/N are friends…. with benefits, but not the kinds you’re thinking of.

🥥MASTERLIST 🌃INSPO TAG 🌻ASK TAG 💃PLAYLIST 🛌

He didn’t know how to talk about what had happened. And when she never came back out from her room, he simply left without a goodbye. Not even his text message minutes after leaving her building did very much.

He had asked if she was alright and she gave him a simple ‘yes’ in response. Nothing more than that. So by the time he was back in his own home, settled on the couch where they’d spent quite a few nights eating a late dinner and watching Netflix together, he had no clue if he was even going to see her tonight. Was she even still coming over? It had become a given, that she showed up every night around the same time, but now he felt like he had to ask.

And after sitting, staring at their text thread of quick responses for fifteen minutes, he finally did.

(Harry, 5:07 pm)

Are you still coming over tonight?

He let out a sigh of relief after pressing send, but after a couple long seconds of overthinking, he immediately regretted it. She was clearly upset and the only thing he could think to ask about was his selfish need to see her again.

His phone dinged and he held his breath again.

(Y/N, 5:11 pm)

No.

He wasn’t sure why but he felt tears sting his eyes when he read her short rejection. Maybe it was because he’d already expected her answer but had hoped for a different one anyways.

He was brought back to reality when he saw the three little dots again at the bottom of his screen.

(Y/N, 5:12 pm)

Is that okay with you?

“No,” he said out loud to himself, to only his coffee table and his blank TV screen. With his immediate response out of the way, he typed up something a little less selfish.

(Harry, 5:15 pm)

Sure.

Then in another little text bubble, he added:

(Harry, 5:15 pm)

Tomorrow?

She didn’t ever respond with actual words, but instead with a thumbs up emoji. Even after all this time getting to know her, he still hated how brief she was. Like everything she said was carefully thought out beforehand. The only time he’d ever seen her just say something without caring was this morning. She wasn’t trying to hide anything and he could do nothing but grin at the memory of her telling her roommates to fuck off.

The next day and a half went by as slowly as humanly possible. Especially Sunday night when he had to crawl into bed alone after having avoided it for hours while he stared out his window, sitting in what he deemed as her chair. His mind was preoccupied with everything about her. Nothing had even triggered the beginning of it, he had been getting a glass from the cupboard to pour himself a much needed shot of whiskey… and then there she was.

The first thing that came to his mind was the way she’d helped him take his shirt off Saturday night. A memory that had been a bit foggy, but with time had come back to him perfectly intact. He heard her hushed giggling again and wondered how drunk he must’ve been to not have noticed at any point before they were under the covers that she didn’t have her pajamas on. He thought about how she must’ve looked anyways, letting himself get lost in his unholy thoughts about her for a while before finally shutting out lights, making sure doors were locked, and heading upstairs.

His attempts to clear his mind of everything Y/N didn’t matter much when he got to the top of the stairs because he could no longer be in his bedroom and not think about her. Not think about the way he’d caught her at his window that first night or the way she’d dragged his little armchair to the center of the room the morning she had stayed. Every inch of his bedroom reminded him of her. Not even splashing water on his face at his bathroom sink did the trick of getting her out of his head. And by that point, he really didn’t want her gone anyways.

He was already in a dreamlike state before he stepped foot into bed and glancing at her spare toothbrush on the counter only made it worse. He thought about kissing her for the first time. He even went as far as to think about her standing beside him at a red carpet event, even though he knew it would never happen. He thought about her hands and the way she liked to trace the outlines of his tattoos whenever he wore a short-sleeve shirt to bed. He thought about what it’d be like to feel her tracing his butterfly one, or the wispy laurels on his hips.

He groaned as he rolled over onto his stomach in bed. He had no idea how long he’d just been laying there, living in his unrealistic daydreams with Y/N, but it needed to stop if he wanted any sleep tonight.

The thing was, though, he hadn’t been in bed alone for what felt like months. He knew it hadn’t been that long, but after having Y/N, she made it seem that way. Not even grasping a pillow for dear life was cutting it. He couldn’t get comfortable and he was constantly freezing. It was like that week after they’d first slept together all over again but ten times worse. His body was in physical pain this time and no matter which way he tossed or turned, it never did the trick. She was like a fucking drug he was withdrawing from.

Monday was a similar story, with his head all wrapped around her, he finished his song and then some. It felt good to finally record something again, something he actually enjoyed singing. And with more than just Will in the studio, his album was finally getting somewhere.

When it was seven o’clock, however, he found himself salivating like a dog waiting for her to turn up on his doorstep after a text twenty minutes prior saying she was on her way.

Even when she was there, on his doorstep, everything he’d wanted to say to her melted into a simple, “Hi,” and a sigh of relief hidden behind a smile.

She mirrored him with her own little, “hi,” back, giggling at his very Harry way of greeting her.

And the rest of the night was history until they laid side by side together on his bed, a bit more clothing between them again as opposed to the last time they’d been together. It was nice, cozying up to the soft cotton fabric of his shirt again, breathing in nothing but the scent of his cologne and aftershave and shampoo and fabric softener all mixed together.

With his arm firmly around her shoulders as they both stared up at the ceiling underneath his weighted duvet, he cleared his throat, “I’m going to be out of town the rest of the week.”

She flipped her head to the side to look up at him, “What?”

Without moving his head or face, he glanced down at her, already feeling bad for the look she was giving him. Furrowed brows and pouty lips galore. “I just found out today at the studio. I have to go to New York to get some stuff done with my recording company. I should be back Saturday.”

For a moment, she considered stuffing herself into whatever Gucci labeled luggage he owned and joining him. It sounded a lot better than staying in Los Angeles and having to spend her nights alone again. She knew that wasn’t practical, and even if it was, Harry probably wouldn’t be keen on the idea. She still felt guilty sometimes, no matter how tight he held onto her. And maybe he needed his space. Maybe he needed some time away from her for a little while anyways.

“Okay.”

He scoffed and looked up at the ceiling again, shaking his head and not even trying to hide how disappointed he was in her response, as if it didn’t even bother her at all.

“Do you not want to do this anymore or something?” He asked.

She immediately scrunched her eyebrows up again, “No, I mean I do it’s just… it’s fine. You have to go to New York.”

“And you’re not going to miss me at all?”

That left her with even less to say. If Y/N was anything, she was horrible at expressing her feelings. She’d be the last to say she missed him every second he wasn’t around, but she didn’t know how to say that and come across as genuine. She didn’t know how to say it and not feel weird about it. She didn’t express how she felt through her words and Harry had plenty of time to learn that about her. But what he hadn’t quite learned yet, at least not for sure, was how she did express her emotions, if not in words.

He thought maybe it was in actions, little things she did to let him know she cared as much as he did, but she was careful with those too. Careful not to touch him too much or or mix her things with his in the bathroom. The only thing he had to go on was that she trusted him enough to tell him what seemed like some of her deepest secrets. And maybe that’s how she did it.

She rolled her eyes up to him again, scanning the harsh line of his jaw just before he met her gaze and softened his features a little.

“Are you going to miss me?” She asked softly.

It was innocent and like she already knew the answer to her own question. That as much as he would miss her, she’d miss him too. They stared at each other for a long while before he said anything else, before he blinked his head clear of thinking about kissing her right there and then. Before he realized what a stupid fucking idea that would be. He turned his head straight again, keeping focus on anything besides her face and her lips.

Sighing, he finally gave her an answer. “I suppose I’ll miss you.” He teased. “Won’t miss the way you laugh in your sleep, though.”

She planted her hand onto his ribs and shoved him, “Hey! I don’t laugh in my sleep!”

His grin spread practically all the way across his face as he shook his head, “Oh yes you do. Something funny’s goin’ on in there.” He tapped her forehead with his index finger and watched fondly as she grew offended.

She grabbed his hand and pulled it away from her face, “Better than your snoring.”

He made a squished face that clearly disagreed with her. “Snoring is perfectly normal. Thought you might’ve been possessed the first time you did that.”

“If anyone’s possessed by a demon, it’s you. You had black coffee with Lucky Charms.” Her disgusted look made him wonder if she was more offended by his taste for the bitter drink than she was for him teasing her about the laughing.

“Some might argue not drinking coffee at all is a bit inhuman,” he cocked an eyebrow but just the way her face drained of any readability at all frightened him the tiniest bit.

This time, instead of shoving him, she gave him that moment of anticipation. A moment to look at her and try and figure out what she was about to do. He didn’t, however, expect her to reach back, grab a fistful of his pillow and swing it at his face.

“Oi!” He grabbed it from her, not quite fast enough to avoid the initial attack but she definitely wasn’t doing it again. There was a struggle for the pillow where she tried to get it away from him, even going so far as to find out where he was ticklish and cheat her way out of it. But, it was no use, he still managed to pull it from her grasp.

He held the pillow hostage on his other side, using his shoulder to block her when she tried to reach across him and grab it until she gave up with a loud huff and fell back against his arm that wasn’t currently protecting the pillow.

“That’s alright. You have like,” she glanced behind them, catching her breath, “five others I can choose from.”

“You know this face is the money maker, right?” He pointed at himself and it felt like the first time she really looked at him in a while, she noticed the stubble along his upper lip and across his jaw and chin. His two teeth that stuck out a little more prominently when he smiled, cheesily and over exaggerated it almost made her gag. If he wasn’t so fucking beautiful, she thought, she might actually hurl at what he’d just said.

“It’s just a pillow.” She rolled her eyes, “It won’t do any damage to your pretty face.”

Then she did something she’d never done before, and she wasn’t sure why she was doing it now. She reached up and gently pressed her fingers right into his dimples, making his smile even more pronounced. It made her feel closer to him than she ever had been and it terrified her just enough to realize what she was doing, touching him like that, and she let go.

When his grin remained exactly the same, teeth and all, she really should’ve known better. “So you think my face is pretty then?”

“No, I think your face is annoying.” She almost shouted while practically leaping across his chest to grab the pillow he was still holding onto. Instead of her getting a grip on it however, he wrapped his hand around her forearm and fought against her playfully.

Eventually he managed to push her onto her back again, gripping her arm still and pinning her down against the mattress a little more harshly than he had intended. So when she flinched and accidentally smacked him, he knew he’d made a huge mistake.

Without a second thought, he let go of her. Immediately, he backed away and gave her her space back. The entire room had shifted and he felt like his mumbled, “I’m sorry,” didn’t nearly cut it. He was so fucking sorry for getting carried away, for not thinking, and for the terrified look in her eyes she had pointed straight at him.

She covered her face with her hands, a feeble attempt to hide how embarrassed she was and through her palms, she muffled her own apology, “I’m sorry I slapped you.”

“No, I shouldn’t have…” He shook his head at himself, still in disbelief at what he’d done and how drastically the entire mood had changed within seconds all because he’d been too careless to realize he was crossing a line with her.

She slowly slid her hands down her face and looked at him again. “I’m not used to all of this, I’m sorry.”

He nodded in understanding with his lips parted and his eyes a little wider than usual. He wasn’t quite used to needing to be so careful with someone either, but he was sure he’d gotten there with her, so he had no idea what possessed him to do what he did.

“Got it. No more pillow fights.”

She laughed and it became, even more so than it was already, his favorite sound in the entire universe. “Only if you’re being a jerk.”

Considering the circumstances, he let her have that one. No matter how much he wanted to defend himself and blurt out that him calling her a little demon for not liking coffee was not him being a jerk, it was him being honest, he kept his mouth shut.

After that, she’d retreated to his bathroom for a while, making up an excuse that she’d forgotten to wash her face earlier, but he knew better than that. So the entire time she spent behind the locked door, he spent propped up on his pillows, staring out at the city and hoping he hadn’t lost all of her trust in him. It was the only thing he had to let him know she needed him like he needed her. And if it was gone, he had no clue where they’d be.

After flipping the light on and locking the door behind, she stepped up to the counter and gripped its edge hard enough to steady herself. She avoided the mirror while she caught her breath, while she got herself to stop shaking and her stomach to stop lurching all over the place.

She’d never had a reaction like that. Not that anyone had ever done what Harry did, but she couldn’t blame him at all. She had no idea that would happen. It was the quick, sharp movement that had gotten to her. She didn’t want Harry mixed in with her memories, to have him at all associated with that pain. So, she kept him out of her mind while she let it all come flooding back the way she knew it was bound to. And once it was over, once she could breathe again, she looked in the mirror and reminded herself that Harry would never and could never do that.

After splashing her face with cold water and spritzing a little more of her perfume on her neck just in case, she joined him again in a much more peaceful state of mind.

She kept a short distance from him once she was under the covers again, knowing it wouldn’t last, but needing space from him while she said what she needed to say.

But before she could get anything out, he was the first to break the silence. “Alright?”

Nodding her head in response lasted about five seconds before she realized he couldn’t see her. So instead, she backtracked to what she had wanted to say to him all night. “I’m sorry I didn’t come over last night. I just needed space… from everyone.”

She felt him shuffle a little bit and even though he didn’t say anything, she at least knew he was listening. “I barely got any sleep though, so I guess not from everyone…”

Her confession made him smile, a warm smile that reflected how she’d just made him feel. Like a bright, golden summertime was taking place inside his body even though the outside was a chilly autumn night, caught without a jacket.

“What happened at breakfast yesterday?” Now it was his turn to mutter a few words he’d wanted to say to her all night as well. It was easy when she wasn’t looking at him with her pretty eyes that made him feel guilty for prying even an inch into her personal life.

But even so, she stayed quiet and a bit of guilt seeped into him. “You don’t have to tell me. I want you to. I wish you opened up more all the time.” He confessed with a sigh of relief in hopes she didn’t think he was weird for wanting that, for wanting to know more about her. “But you don’t have to.”

He felt her before he heard her. And as she curled up next to him, tucking herself underneath his arm and resting the side of her face softly on his shoulder like she had countless times, she told him.

“I had been dating that guy from high school for a couple months before that happened.” She began while tracing the hem of his t-shirt around the collar absently. “My first and only impression of that kind of relationship was how easily they can be faked, until someone gets what they want out of it.”

He rubbed his hand across her back, in slow circles just so she knew he was listening quietly. And for whatever reason, it encouraged her to continue. “And I guess I don’t really like it when they go on about me getting or having a boyfriend, but I kinda overreacted. They don’t know about what happened… except Will.”

“How did he find out?” Harry wasn’t sure why that was the first question to pop out of his mouth, but it seemed like the only one that was okay to ask.

“He met that guy through some friends when we were in college and invited him to a party we were all at once. LA’s a bit of a small world.”

He could agree with the unfortunate state of the city, but he also found himself cringing when he learned how horrifically Will had found out. Harry could only vaguely imagine what that must’ve been like for her. And then to have to explain it to Will. It must’ve been hell and he hated knowing she had to go through it.

“I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head and peered up at him even though he had his furrowed brows and concerned eyes glued to the ceiling again like he was lost in thought. “You know you’ve helped me so much, right?”

This time, he did look at her with his chin pressed to his chest and through small slits in his eyelids, muttering in disbelief. “Have I?”

Since he could actually see her this time, she nodded again. “I never took the time to figure out how to trust anyone after that till you came around. And I definitely never let anyone touch me.”

He rested back onto his pillows again, anxieties melting away because he hadn’t lost her trust after al. It was actually better than he’d feared.

If only he could figure out how to help her with other things. Like her self-esteem that nagged at him every single day since she told him how she really felt about herself all those nights ago. Or getting her to say more, to stop holding back.

Baby steps, he supposed.

He had his own things that needed fixing too, and he could, without a single doubt, list a few she’d helped him with. But he didn’t want to make anything right now about him. Maybe one day he’d tell her all about how she made loving someone feel safe again, but now wasn’t quite the time for it.

“S’the least I can do. Been forcing you to share a bed with me all this time, after all,” he joked.

When she spoke next, he could tell she was falling asleep with the way her words sort of mushed together. “You’re not forcing me to do anything, Harry. I need you too.”

Those four words rang in his head long after her eyes closed, long after her breathing evened out and he felt her steady heartbeat against his ribs.

She needed him.

Taglist: @afterstylesmadeit @cxnyon-moon-deactivated20200417 @and-im-not-okay-with-it @chrryblsms @whydontharry @harryinsweatersandbandanas @idkthisisjustforfanfic @teddysoldbird @shawnsblue @thurhomish @theasstour @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @staceystoleyourheart @granolagrannie @defineharry @iambabyharry @1142590m @ashtondene @smokeinherperfume @cherryyharryy @mellamolayla @chrryblsms @cassiopeiaskies @sunflowerjens @detroitkiwis @brwnskin-bunnyteeth @cock-a-doodely-doo @strawberrycaramelmocha @meetmeinfleetwood @harriesgolden @rachkon @caritocp @sspidermanss @forestliz @grandfunnyemopainter @metalmerida if you’d like to be added, go here :)

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #onlyhuman

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kieraelieson · 4 years

Text

Chained to a Wall

Oooh for a prompt, how about chained to a wall with Logan? Maybe with a sort of medieval fantasy like world? Prompt by Anon

Logan woke groggily, lifting a hand to his head and surprised at the chain attached to it. It took him a moment to shake off enough of the fuzz from his mind to realize he was in a cell, chained to the wall with only a few feet of chain.

A boy walked by, and froze, turning to him with wide eyes. “He did it! You’re really here!”

Logan was more than a little confused. “What’s going on?”

The boy seemed to have many thoughts passing through his mind, his forehead creased in thought, and when he spoke he completely ignored Logan’s question. “Are you happy?”

“Am I— am I what?” Logan asked, completely confused.

“Happy.”

Logan shook his head. “I don’t- I suppose not. I’m more confused than anything else. What’s happening? Why am I here?”

The boy’s mouth opened, and then shut. “I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you.”

That was at least something. This boy was someone’s servant, most likely, judging by his clothes, and judging by the obvious magical residue spotted on his face and glasses his master was probably a magician. So Logan had been kidnapped by a magician. He would have guessed for ransom except for the question of whether or not he was happy. That certainly made things more confusing. Perhaps revenge? He didn’t think he’d made enemies, but perhaps revenge against his parents.

“What can you tell me?” Logan asked.

“Ummm… hopefully, you’ll only be here for a month.”

“That seems like a strange thing to be allowed to tell me.”

The boy frowned. “Well, I don’t know. It’s not a promise. Especially if you get happy it’ll take longer.”

“I fail to see why that has any significance.”

The boy’s face screwed up in thought. “I don’t think I can tell you either. I have to ask my—uhhhh, my master.” And then he turned and ran off.

Logan just sighed. This was certainly not how he’d expected the day to go. He got up, testing his limits. He couldn’t quite reach the bars of the cell with how far the chain let him go. There was a small bed, which was surprisingly soft for something in a cell, and around the bucket in the corner was hung a curtain. There was a spigot which trickled out water, and a small grated drain. The cell was clean too.

It was reasonable, if bare. Which only confused him more. Why kidnap someone and put them in a cell if you intended on treating them reasonably? He would’ve thought that cells were for prisoners you intended to make miserable, and otherwise you would give them a proper, though well locked, room.

A door down the hallway opened, and Logan felt a spike of fear through him at the sound of heavy footsteps. But his confusion only grew when he recognized the man that appeared.

“Janus? You… why?”

Janus’s face was as even and smooth as stone. “I don’t wish you harm. But you will stay here.”

Logan stood up. “Why?! What does this accomplish?! My parents have always favored you! You would merely have to ask, and almost anything could be yours.”

Janus didn’t betray a single emotion. “I will not tell you my purposes.”

Anger rushed through Logan. “You are insane! Nothing will come of this! No matter how ‘unhappy’ you make me, it won’t get you anything you wouldn’t have already gotten without this treachery.”

“Unhappy—? Patton. Patton, come back down here!” Janus called.

The boy came running. “Yes?”

“What did you tell him?”

Patton suddenly looked very worried. “I didn’t say anything you said not to! I told him it might be a month.”

Janus sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “And why is he saying things about being unhappy?”

Patton frowned in confusion. “I thought that was the point?”

Janus sighed again, but it was mixed with a slight chuckle. He knelt and put his hands on Patton’s shoulders. “That is not what I said. But let’s not talk to Logan about any of that any more, ok?”

Patton nodded readily. “Sorry.”

“Why don’t you go get dinner into trays now, ok?”

“Ok! Bye, Logan!” Patton waved and ran off again.

Logan was still confused. He was getting incredibly mixed signals.

“So what is this?”

“I’ve already said I won’t explain my purposes. But, essentially, you are my prisoner until the time I release you. Patton was correct, I estimate it will take a month for me to be ready to let you go.”

“But why?”

Janus raised an eyebrow slightly. “How many of the meetings your father holds do you attend?”

Logan frowned. “Most of them.”

“Then you ought to be able to figure it out on your own.”

••^*^••

Logan had been in the cell for a week now, and was incredibly bored. Patton visited many times each day, and Janus would often come have cryptic conversations with him in the evenings, but that still left him bored. And restless, not that he could do anything about it. Other than pace at the limit of the chain, back and forth, over and over, still trying fruitlessly to figure out why he was here and why he ought to know.

And then Patton came skipping down, holding a cookie in each hand. “Da—- Janus said we could both have one!”

Logan put on a bright smile. “Thank you, Patton! You know, I was curious, we both have glasses, but I’m wondering how different they are.”

Patton’s head cocked to the side in clear interest. “Oh. I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you come in? We can sit on my bed and have a picnic with the cookies and test each other’s glasses.” Honestly, Logan didn’t think that Patton would fall for it, though he hoped he would.

“Ok!” Patton fished a key out of his pocket and opened the cell door.

That had been even easier than Logan would’ve guessed. Patton came right in and sat on his bed.

Logan sat down calmly, trying not to startle Patton, before he grabbed him, holding his arms tightly.

But Patton still didn’t startle, just trying to tip his head to look at Logan. “You’re not very good at giving hugs.”

Logan let out an annoyed sigh. “This isn’t a hug, I’m trapping you. Call Janus.”

Patton shrugged slightly. “It’s kind of like a hug.”

“Just call him.”

Patton opened his mouth, and then shut it again. “It’s weird.”

“What is?”

“Calling him Janus when we’re at home.” Patton gave a brief pout, and then took a deep breath and shouted. “Janus!”

Janus didn’t come quickly. His steps seemed even more slow than usual.

“Yes?”

“Logan’s trapping me.” Patton said readily.

Logan didn’t even have a chance of looking threatening, not with Patton acting as if it was just all a poorly executed hug. But he could still try. “I know Patton isn’t your servant.”

Janus raised an eyebrow lazily. “And what is he then?”

“He’s your son. You wouldn’t want him to get hurt.”

Janus clapped slowly. “Congratulations, it only took you a week to realize what most women whisper about after the first meeting.”

Logan frowned.

“Comfy, Patton?”

Patton nodded. “I’m good!”

Logan sighed in defeat, releasing Patton.

“I’m sorry to say it, as I’m sure it’s frustrating, but you’re in my house, Logan. You won’t be winning any of these little battles.”

“But why are you keeping me here!?” Logan yelled. “There’s no benefit to you! And once I get out you’ll be arrested for treason!”

“Come on out, Patton,” Janus said.

“You are not the man my father thinks you are!”

For once, there was a flicker of something over Janus’s face, but he just closed the cell, took Patton, and left.

••^*^••

Logan was provided with books after that, and Patton was strictly forbidden from entering his cell.

And then one day Janus came downstairs, looking uncharacteristically annoyed. “I’ve lost a bet. You have the option to come upstairs for dinner tonight.”

Logan was surprised, but nodded. “Yes.”

Janus came into his cell, putting a spell over the cuff on his wrist before taking the chain off. “You won’t be able to leave the house. I’d rather not have to fight over it.”

Logan nodded solemnly, though he had little intention of passing up an attempt at escape if it presented itself.

When they made it up to the dining room Patton was standing next to the table, which was laid out with nearly a feast, and he looked both very tired and incredibly proud of himself.

Janus bowed slightly. “I am very pleased to attend, Patton.”

Logan also bowed slightly.

Patton’s bow was much less formal, more like a happy little bob.

The dinner was formal, and Logan was allowed to ask about the outside affairs, though he did not always receive answers. Patton was gently cut off several times throughout the dinner, just before he could say something that Logan desperately wanted to know about. Logan also was cut off every time his temper flared, and it made him feel very much like he was Patton’s age again.

But then Patton started excitedly telling Logan about his garden, and how things had grown in the last three days since the last time he’d rambled about it, and Janus asked Logan about the contents of the books he’d been reading, and the conversation grew into something far more enjoyable.

After dinner, where, in Logan’s experience, it was common for the adults to move to a sitting room with wine, Patton ran off, and came back in a few minutes with a tray. There were three steaming mugs of hot chocolate, and they all sat down on comfortable couches in another room to drink them.

Patton cuddled up to Janus’s side, and they all sat still, and comfortable, mostly staring into the fire.

Once Patton set his cup down Janus wrapped an arm around his shoulders and rested his hand in his hair, petting gently. Patton relaxed into it, and gradually fell asleep and slumped over into Janus’s lap.

“I don’t understand you,” Logan said quietly.

Janus just kept petting Patton’s hair, even though he seemed to be sound asleep. “You don’t need to.”

“I… I think… I might agree with you on the reason for your keeping me here, if you would explain it.”

“I believe the same. However, as much as it pains me to consistently anger you, it is necessary.”

Logan scowled. “What, so after kidnapping me and holding me here for two weeks you just want me to trust you that it’ll all turn out alright?”

“Actually, I would prefer you didn’t trust me. Patton wasn’t far off when he said that if you were to become happy it would require a longer stay.”

“And what’s wrong with being happy?!” Logan snapped, though he was careful to keep his voice down. “If this is supposed to be some kind of lesson I highly doubt I’m learning anything worthwhile.”

“It is not a lesson.”

“Then what is it?!”

Patton stirred slightly, and Janus glared at Logan, but soon Patton was breathing evenly again.

“I can’t tell you. Telling you would entirely defeat the purpose.”

Logan scowled, and drank the last sip of his drink, which was by that point cold.

••^*^••

If the goal was to make him miserable they were certainly succeeding. Once he’d almost gotten Patton to tell him everything he knew, which resulted in a spell being cast over Patton that caused him to clap his hand over his mouth whenever he spoke about what Janus decided was ‘secret information’. It made Patton a little grumpy, and made Logan far more annoyed.

And then the books stopped coming. Only the same books, repeated over again, whenever he’d finished the ones he had. It was beyond frustrating. Especially when he was no closer to either an explanation or escape.

And… while he would never, ever admit to it, he found himself getting homesick as well.

In a way, he wished he could just fall asleep and stay asleep until the time was up. Until he could go home again. And for an entire day he tried to. He ignored Patton, and Janus, and just laid on the bed, trying to fall asleep and stay asleep. And barring that, to silently think about why he could be here.

He wasn’t getting any answers.

The cell door swung open, and he ignored it until he was suddenly swooped up into a bridal carry.

He didn’t bother protesting. It was probably what Janus wanted anyway.

“Pouting like that isn’t doing you any good,” Janus said, carrying him out of the cell and upstairs.

Logan ignored him. Until he was taken outside. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it.

Janus plopped him down on the ground, and Logan sat up and looked around. It seemed he was in Patton’s garden, which was soon confirmed by a dirt covered Patton appearing and holding out a pear to him, wrapped in a cloth.

“This is the best one from today! You can eat it!”

Just being outside raised his spirits a lot, and Logan smiled as he took the pear. “Thank you.”

Patton beamed, and then went back to whatever he was doing.

“I doubt you will ever favor me the way your father has,” Janus said quietly, looking out at the garden. “But someday, when you’re king, remember Patton kindly.”

Logan nodded slowly. “I will.”

Janus sighed heavily, as if in relief, and Logan really looked at him for perhaps the first time since he’d been kidnapped. He seemed tired, and worn, and there were faint marks on his clothing. And they were on his sides and back, not on his front as Logan would expect from spell residue.

“What do you do?”

“I’m a court magician.”

“I know, but what have you been doing, specifically.”

“I can’t say.” Janus said tiredly. “If I could tell you, I certainly would.”

Logan turned to look out at the garden. “I believe you.”

••^*^••

Patton ran down the hallway, nearly slamming himself into the bars of the cage. “They did it, they did it, they did it, they did it!”

“What happened?!”

“They broke the curse!!”

“What curse?”

“Your curse!” Patton fumbled with keys to get the cell open and tackled Logan in a hug.

“I don’t understand.”

“Dad can tell you now!” Patton hastily undid the cuff from Logan’s wrist, and then there were other steps running towards them.

Logan barely had time to register that it was his father before he was scooped up in a massive bear hug. He gripped back just as tightly.

“Logan, I’m so sorry, I wanted to see you, truly. If there had been any way.”

Logan just hugged tighter, feeling suddenly like he might cry.

Janus had arrived at some point, and cleared his throat. “We can move upstairs, and explain everything to Logan.”

Logan could barely stand the waiting until they were upstairs and seated. “What was all this?”

“The kingdom to the west, you remember the truce we have with them was unsteady,” his father started.

Logan nodded.

“There is a faction, both of our own people and of theirs, that believe we should have taken them over long ago.”

Logan nodded. He’d heard of this briefly.

“This faction managed to get someone close enough to put a curse on you. We don’t know when exactly, only that it was several years ago.”

Logan nodded solemnly.

“They activated that curse roughly a month ago, and sent us a threat in such a way that we thought it was the other kingdom.”

Logan nodded very solemnly.

“It said that the effects of the curse would strike suddenly, in your happiest and most unsuspecting moment,” Janus said.

Logan turned to look at him, many things slotting into place in his mind.

“We’ve been trying to find them and to break the curse this whole time,” his father explained. “As a last option, Janus had a spell that would track the curse in reverse, but it would take time, at least several weeks.”

Janus nodded. “In the cuff, it’s why I kept it on you.”

“We had hoped to find them before that, but they were too well hidden. But once the spell worked we found them, and the curse is broken now.”

Logan nodded, his mind swimming with all of the information it had wanted for so long.

Janus slipped off of his chair, to his knees, head bowed. “Regardless of necessity, I deeply apologize for the way I’ve treated you.”

Logan and his father spoke almost exactly at the same time. “Please, get up.”

“You did well,” Logan said.

His father nodded firmly. “Janus, you are the main reason Logan is still here and well. You have my gratitude forever.”

Logan nodded. “Anything you want within my power to give, I will do it.”

Janus shook his head, but Patton suddenly piped up. “He needs a vacation!”

Janus froze, but didn’t say anything against what Patton had said.

Logan’s father spoke immediately. “Yes. Janus, please, rest. Take your time and train Patton.”

Logan was completely surprised to see Janus’s eyes grow wet as Patton ran over and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you.”

#bad things happen bingo #kiera's bthb #chained to a wall #sanders sides #misunderstandings #kidnapping #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders

43 notes · View notes

luckyvirgo · 4 years

Text

many reasons; dazai osamu

DAZAI OSAMU X READER

In hindsight, you should have realised that running after Dazai was not a good decision on your part...

WORD COUNT: 1.8K words

WARNINGS: mentions of suicide, abuse (not reader's), angst (if you squint), fluffy ending. MILD SPOILERS FOR BUNGO STRAY DOGS SEASON 3

(e/c) - eye color

A/N: sorry if the formatting is a bit wonky!! i'm posting this on mobile because tumblr doesn't work on my stupid, old laptop.

this fic is really super, self-indulgent because dazai is my favorite in bsd and i love when situations like the one in this one shot happen in anime, so i combined the two things and wrote this. this was actually going be a scene in a dazai fic i'm thinking of posting on my wattpad, but i decided to scrap it and write it as a oneshot. i hope you all enjoy reading this!!

Also shoutout to @neonghxst who wanted me to finish this one shot hehe. thanks to her, i got the inspiration to actually write this and finish it.

"Are you sure we should have left him like that?"

You fiddled with the ends of your coat sleeves. Upon hearing about Atsushi's new case and the end result, you immediately wanted to give the boy a hug and never let him go. He had been through so much these past few weeks and hearing about the death of that abusive headmaster of his old orphanage must have been incredibly painful.

But Dazai had promptly pulled you away, after saying exactly what needed to be said. (He always knew what to say in any kind of situation and that made you feel jealous a lot of times)

"Things like that are meant to be dealt with alone. Atsushi-kun will manage," Dazai answered with a cool tone. "You worry too much, (Y/N)-chan."

He tried to ruffle your hair but you slapped his hand away with a huff.

"I have every right to worry, you know," You crossed your arms, angrily staring at the ground. You and Dazai had already left the port area and now were back in the city, walking next to each other. "He and Kyouka just...I just wanna give them both a hug and adopt them as family."

This time, Dazai successfully managed to ruffle your hair."You are very funny, (Y/N)-chan."

"I'm not being funny! I'll actually adopt them, just you wait and see."

"As amusing as that would be, I'm gonna stop you there."

"Why?"

"Well, it's nighttime now. And we are almost near the river. The moon's pretty bright today. Which means one thing and one thing only."

"What, Dazai?"

"It's the perfect time for a double suicide!"

Dazai suddenly grabbed you by the waist and spun you around. You felt your face grow warmer as he kept his hands on your waist, meanwhile going on about the benefits of a double suicide.

"D-dazai! Let go!" You physically tried to struggle out of his grip, knowing that your Ability was useless in this situation. "Just let go, dumbass!"

"Nope, not gonna."

Dazai let go of your waist, but then immediately grabbed your hand. But you managed to pull it away. He stuck his tongue out at you. "You are no fun, (Y/N)-chan."

You glared at him. "How many times do I have to tell you no, you bandage squandering idiot?!"

"Ahh!! You sound so much like Kunikida-kun! Why didn't you tell me you were so great at impersonating others?"

"Huh?! What's that supposed to mean?" You went to shove his shoulder but he dodged it, jumping aside with his annoying (endearing) laugh. You tried to hit him again, but he dodged this time too and started running.

"Oi, Dazai! Come back here, you idiot!"

You ran too, trying to catch up to him so that you could, at least, flick his forehead before slapping him. Why was he so annoying, you always wondered.

'Isn't this why you like him?' Your heart whispered to you.

'Shut up,' You told it.

You kept on running. Even as you did, the sun had almost set, taking its red and orange hues and replacing it with the dark, navy blue of the night sky. The running brought you to the river bank, a spot where both you and Kunikida had to drag Dazai out of. For some reason, he declared this spot and drowning as his top favorite for a double suicide.

It was incredibly annoying, but at the same time, also incredibly saddening and you wished you knew more about why he was like this.

Finally, you caught up with him.

In hindsight, you should have realised that running after Dazai was not a good decision on your part.

Both of you stumbled down the river bank, holding onto each other because there was nothing else to grab onto. The slant river bank ended and they were on flat ground again.

But...but, both of you were in a rather compromising position.

Usually, you were a pretty confident and self-assured person. But when it came to situations like these (or any romantic situations)…well, you were still pretty inexperienced. So inexperienced actually that you hadn't kissed anyone in a long while, almost two years to be exact. Relationships had always seemed like a waste of time to you, but being in such close proximity of the man you currently yearned for was doing wonders for your heart. (In a good way and a bad away)

Dazai's arms were on your shoulders, pinning you to the ground. He loomed over you, his brown eyes staring right into your (e/c) ones.

You swore you could detect something there before it was hidden behind his mask again.

No longer were you able to keep the warmth away from your face. You knew you probably resembled a tomato right now. You wanted to get out of this position quickly, but deep down, your mind and your heart both resisted. And you felt like agreeing with them this time. You wouldn't get a chance like this ever again.

So you decided to speak.

And immediately regret it.

"Your eyes are pretty," The combined forces of your heart and mind make you say something stupidly embarrassing and you immediately want to cover your face. But you can't. So you continue.

Even the darkness of night couldn't keep the redness of your cheeks hidden.

"I mean, they're not just an ugly brown color. They have this amber-like quality to them. And everytime light hits them, they almost shine and it makes them more beautiful than I ever thought. Like seriously, you have really beautiful eyes. Personally, your eyes are your best feature and they're one of the many reasons I fell for you."

(You wanna crush your own stupid heart for that last bit.)

"Oh?" That was all Dazai said, that stupidly endearing smirk on his face. "Many reasons? What are they again?"

"Um, uh," You hesitated, turning your head to the side. This was more embarrassing than any other situation you had ever been in. There was nowhere else to go and while you could have kicked Dazai away with ease, truth be told you really didn't want to do that. How many chances like this would you ever get? "I don't even know when I started liking you. And maybe it's a stupid thing because nothing is ever going to come out of it, but yeah. I have feelings for you, Dazai Osamu. Truth be told, I can sort of understand why you ask women to commit a double suicide with you. You want someone to be by your side, right? You don't want to be lonely when you die. I guess I can understand that, though I wish I could show you the joy in living. But I don't think I'll ever be able to change your mind."

You laughed nervously, looking anywhere but at Dazai's face, where his smirk had been replaced by a more serious look. "I went on a totally different tangent there, didn't I? You can forget that last bit but to sum up everything, I have feelings for you. I don't expect you to return them anyways so...yeah."

Now, you looked at Dazai. His expression was unreadable. You couldn't understand what emotions were written on his face. You didn't even know what he would do next. Would he reciprocate your feelings? Would he reject them? What would he do? You wanted answers and you weren't getting them.

Then again, it was partly your fault also. You suddenly sprung these feelings on him. You shouldn't expect him to answer quickly.

(Secretly, you also thought that Dazai wasn't the type of person who'd ever truly love someone. It was just your stupid luck he was the person you fell for.)

Unexpectedly, Dazai suddenly moved off you, giving you the opportunity to finally sit up and contemplate your next moves.

'Should I just run away?' You thought, thinking about the pain of rejection. You'd deal with it. Somehow. 'It's the coward's way out. But what more can I do?'

"If you're thinking of running away, don't," Dazai suddenly said, meeting your eyes with a stare so intense that you swore he could read every single thought in your mind.

"That was not what I was thinking," You clearly lied, crossing your arms.

"You know, I can tell that you're lying, my Belladonna," Dazai put his hand on your cheek, his slender fingers brushing away the stray strands of hair on your face. "You are not a very good liar."

"D — wh-what?" You froze up completely. Because as much as you would like to deny, even an action like this left you wanting more. His hands were inexplicably warm and strangely soft. You couldn't even think about running away now. Dazai put his other hand behind your back, pulling you close to him. Close enough that your noses were almost touching and you could see the little flecks of amber in his pretty brown eyes.

"D-do you also h-have feelings f-for me?"

What the hell was wrong with your voice? You wanted to ask your question again, but your words died in your throat.

Instead, your heart chose to speak. You tilted your head slightly, barely brushing your lips against his. Even this small action sent volts of electricity coursing through your body. But then, your courage fizzled out and you tried to move back.

Key word; tried.

Dazai put his hand at the back of your head and pulled you closer, finally, freaking finally, kissing you.

You wished you could describe what you were feeling, but you really couldn't. Your mind was completely shut down and all you could really think was, that you were floating. And since it was your one of the few kisses you had in your life, you didn't know what to do. So you kept on pressing your mouth against Dazai's, trying to have more; trying to feel more of him.

It was strange, it felt so strange. But kissing Dazai felt incredibly…amazing. Yeah, amazing. Just him and you and nothing else. You felt like you could touch the stars now and you didn't want it to end. You wanted to keep on doing this forever, or as long as both of you could.

But then, Dazai suddenly ended the kiss, pulling back with a lazy grin.

You stared at him, breathing heavily. And then, you let your head fall onto his shoulder, grabbing onto to the front of his cream-colored trench coat.

"Does that answer your question, (Y/N)-chan?" He asked with a sing-song voice, suddenly hugging you.

"So you do like me?" Your voice was muffled by his coat, but you knew he heard you clearly.

His lips were pressed onto your neck, moving with his answer. You understood it immediately. Releasing his coat from your hands, you hugged him back.

You knew this moment wouldn't last very long, but you would revel in it for now.

It was going to be the only thing on your mind for a very long time.

a/n: i hope this was a fun read! with this quarantine, i've been thinking of attempting to write more character x readers because they are good practice for writing a multi-chapter fic. so you might see more bsd, haikyuu and bnha content on here. I might also post about DC so let's see.

My wattpad

#dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #bsd #bungo stray dogs #osamu dazai #osamu dazai x reader #bsd oneshot #fluff #bungou stray dogs oneshots #bsd imagines #dazai #x reader #character x reader

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gemstoneslesbian · 3 years

Note

I love you Matt hcs so much! So much inspiration for mine too!

Have you got any post-cannon hcs? (Maybe angst/Whump one? But that’s not so important I would love to hear any ^^)

Thank you sm!! :D

All right SO, my main niche in the fandom is fleshing out the Ace Attorney prison, examining the relationships between all the characters there, fleshing everyone out, considering their character arcs, etc. It’s definitely something I put a lot of thought into and get excited about ^^

I imagine there being three main prisons:

Prison A

The canon prison shown in Ace Attorney Investigations: 2. Prisoners are allowed one animal companion, there’s a supplier with influence over the warden (and, imo, the guards as well), it’s overall a prison that can be interpreted as more relaxed--with limited corruption, due to the fact that, in my opinion at least, Sirhan Dogen wouldn’t put up with much BS. Although he can’t control everything, Dogen has a decent amount of power that he uses to make his prison livable.

Prison B

This is the opposite of Prison A. Damon Gant is in charge, but in a different kind of way; after being Chief of Police for so long, he still has a lot of power and connections, and many officers hold respect and / or fear towards him. The prison is a hierarchy of power and control with a lot of corruption, and anyone who doesn’t work for Gant is in danger.

Prison C

The women’s prison. Dee Vasquez has the upper hand here, due to her outside connections with the mafia. She handles things in a more manipulative, underhanded kind of way--isn’t so much focused on the prison at large, but moreso on securing her own matters. She uses protection or exploitation sparingly, and when she does, she deflects attention off of it as much as possible. While the prison isn’t as horrible as Prison B, it’s not as safe as Prison A.

Now that the environment has been established, time to get into the details about Matt:

‎

Matt Engarde went to Prison A.

In Ace Attorney, fame and riches seem to make little difference when it comes to putting someone behind bars. However, the game does show that it can add complications, and affect things to a certain level. With that said, here’s how I imagine things went over with the arrest:

Things are a whirlwind of chaos and fear and pain at first, but it doesn’t take him long to get a deal set up with the prison. Sometime within the first week of his imprisonment. Thankfully, this is done quickly enough that his assets haven’t been transferred to his parents, yet.

His sentence is 10 years. No death penalty or life sentence, because the deal is that, for each year that Matt Engarde is alive and healthy, the prison receives $500,000. This would give them ample reason to take measures to protect him from De Killer.

Matt doesn’t have an endless amount of money, and he also doesn’t want to be stuck there forever. In his mind, hopefully De Killer would be behind bars or dead by the end of those 10 years, and if not... well, he’ll figure it out when he gets there.

He’s given the cell down the hall from Sirhan Dogen, the infamous assassin. This scares the HELL out of Matt at first, but the guards assure him that it’s for his own safety:

However, since he’s placed in this cell before the deal is made, there was an ulterior motive as well. Due to the fact that Shelly De Killer is another infamous assassin, Warden Roland considered it a possibility that he’s one of Dogen’s outside contacts. If Dogen were to rat out Matt’s location to him, the prison would be prepared to capture and arrest De Killer, and it would be confirmed that they had been contacts.

Obviously, Dogen could rat him out no matter which cell he’s in, but it’s more convenient to place Matt there as bait since the hallway is monitored so heavily--they’ll be prepared to restrain both De Killer and Dogen if/when that time comes.

If the deal were made beforehand, he likely would have been sent to Prison B; even though it’s a harsher atmosphere, no one in there is presumed to be a contact of De Killer’s. While he could have been transferred at this point, it’s decided that they’ll stick to their regular plan, just with added precautions and safety measures.

Matt, although suspicious, never has any sort of confirmation that he’s being used as bait--at least, not until years later.

BUT ANYHOW.

‎

Interactions and Reputation

I get into it a bit in this fic*, but the gist is this:

There’s no point in continuing to act charming when everyone knows it’s BS, and any chance of Toughness or Good Standing he could have had are kinda... shattered by his frequent (very loud) panic attacks late at night.

For the first year, he doesn’t bother trying to make friends. He doesn’t care about them, they won’t care about him, and he’s not interested in playing a tug-of-war with power dynamics when he knows he won’t always necessarily come out on top. So he’s kind of a loner here. Occasionally entertains himself by picking fights.

*(Spoiler warning for AAI2 in the fic I linked!!)

‎

Character Arc

From this point, I can see it going in several different directions. I have two different fic AUs where things turn out differently in each one, and I also have an extensive role-play I did with a friend of mine. In terms of imagining his “canon” life and his future, I definitely learn towards the events that transpired in the role-play, so I’ll focus on those.

(My friend and I made a post analyzing his personality and character arc, so most of the things I’ll mention here have been mentioned in this post in greater detail. HOWEVER the post is EXTREMELY long and also contains major spoilers for AAI2. So if you want to avoid spoilers and also want a summed up version, feel completely free to just read the summary below!) (oh also, with relation to the post I just linked, tw for?? a variety of common triggers)

I should mention that this might not be COMPLETELY spoiler-free, but I do avoid saying the spoilery name. It’s hard for me to accurately gauge what is and isn’t revealing, since I already know all the spoilers haha.

And, without further ado:

-Everything about his world has been turned upside-down. Instead of being adored, he’s despised. Instead of being the one with power, he’s the one under the thumb of others. Instead of a life of comfort and privilege, he’s confined to small, uncomfortable areas, and is barely paid anything for his labor. Additionally, he could be killed at any moment at any hour at any location--and this is something he’s forced to endure for years on end. The entire situation is incredibly stressful and traumatic for him.

-About a year after his arrest, a guy moves into his cell with him. Things align in just the right way that a friendship of some sort is formed between them: the guy is friendly, pretty, relatable, into some of the same hobbies he’s into, and he has power within the prison walls. It’s beneficial to form a friendship with him... and the guy isn’t annoyed with him for his (now much less-frequent) panic attacks, but rather, shows sympathy.

-Neither of them particularly trust one another, but they enjoy each other’s company.

-Humans need comfort, and Matt is no exception. Under the intense trauma and stress he’s enduring, it’s all too easy to form some sort of bond with the nice guy who dances with him and pets his hair and holds him.

-It’s important to mention that Matt is rendered unable to do his usual power & control shit. And he especially can’t get away with that kind of stuff when his new cellmate shows up. The guy is Very Alert to underhanded behavior (due to his own underhandedness + the fact that he’s dealt with one too many bastards), and is quick to call Matt out on even minor things. So Matt’s options at this point are either:

a.) try his manipulative shit and lose any small amount of power or comfort he may have had, with an added risk of retribution

b.) resist all forms of connection / interaction with other people, and just be miserable and alone and scared all by himself

c.) be friends with the guy WITHOUT being a shady douche, and getting to enjoy the comfort and benefits that provides

-So... YEAH. Long story short, he makes friends with the guy. And, also, lowkey catches feelings for him.

-Matt also makes friends with Simon Blackquill a couple years later (and that has its own backstory)

-His previous ways of moving through the world do not work at all here. In the end, Matt’s main goal is to get what he wants, and to feel good. With the circumstances, he has to completely change his approaches in order to meet that goal.

-Matt may be cold and uncaring towards other people’s emotions, but it’s clear that he does have very intense emotions. He shows much more vulnerability and pain now than he used to, because doing so makes him more sympathetic to his friends--but he also needs to learn to not be as manipulative about it, and to actually consider the other person’s emotions instead of making it all about himself.

-He does ultimately decide to make the overall changes necessary for healthy interpersonal connections, since it’s in his best interest to do so. It’s not easy, and he hits plenty of road bumps along the way. It definitely dredges up a lot of shit, a lot of painful emotions; he’s extremely self-protective, and genuine vulnerability is hard and frightening.

-The tl;dr is that he’s dragged through a healing arc, kicking and screaming the entire way.

‎

That’s what his life in like in prison, overall! There’s a ton of aspects and details, but I figured it’d be best to cover the basic storyline ^^

I also have thoughts on how things would go after he’s released from prison.

‎

...OH SHIT I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO MENTION THE SHELLY THING LMAO

I’m gonna make a post where I detail out what happens, and then link it here when I finish.

Edit: Here it is!

#Matt Engarde #aa post #Matt #thank you for the ask!! and thank you to everyone else who's been asking too aaa #I'm so happy people are interested in my headcanons #aaprison

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beyoncesdragon · 4 years

Text

Oh lord (Loki x Reader)

Pairing: Loki x Queen!Reader

Warning: fluuffff I suppose. No swear warning this time and that’s a first lol

Summary: Loki had not exactly planned on going back, or better; he had not thought he survive it. Thor being Thor couldn't care less about that, naturally.

A/N: lets just...PRETEND this is how Vanaheim looks. I did my research dont worry, but...it’s fiction after all. and the old norse is real aHA!

My Masterlist

The chains around his feet rattled with every step he made and the dragging sound of the iron was painful and annoying to listen to. “I don’t understand why you are dragging me to this very place brother.” Loki asked annoyed, before eyeing the few other people who were accompanying them suspiciously. “And why you felt like bringing them with you.” Thor didn’t even bother to turn around to answer, he only pulled at the chains, making his brother almost stumble forward.

“They have a right to know where you are kept safe, after you attacked their city.” He explained quickly, before pulling his brother towards a tree in the middle of a corn field. “And why, by the gods…” he started again, but Thor silenced him with a glance. Instead Loki sighed and tilted his head to the right, attentively watching the attractive red haired assassin lining up in front of him. Right to her left stood a man in skin tight uniform with his (in Loki’s eyes) ridiculous shield, and next to him Tony Stark. Not to forget the guy with the arrows he couldn’t remember the name of and the Hulk. Even though he wasn’t green and a bully creature in this moment, but more of a slight built scientist. Loki let out another quiet sigh and closed his eyes. They shot open in horror only a few seconds later, when Thor held his hammer high and a sudden beam of yellow and white light beat down from above.

He sucked in a breath when the light disappeared and showed them their new location: an unreal blue river surrounded by incredible high trees. Some of them were so high, that their tips grazed the clouds above. Strange plants wound themselves around their massive trunks, pulsating in many different colours.

“Where are we?” Stark spoke up, seeming to be the first to catch himself again. The beauty of the place was nearly hypnotizing.

“Vanaheim.” Loki whispered, his face pale by now. “Brother…” he started, but Thor just shook his head. Natasha looked around curiously.

“So what are we looking for? Is there a path…” she got cut off by a roaring sound from somewhere above them. Everyone’s eyes snapped up, gasps getting loud. Coiled around the tree near them, an emerald scaled dragon-like beast looked down, golden eyes glomming hostile.

“Don’t move.” Thor spoke quietly. “What the heck is that? A dragon?” Clint whispered, his hands slowly wandering towards his arrows.

“Not exactly. This is a drakon. They are several millennia’s older than dragons and can grow almost twice as big.” Loki whispered, his eyes fixed on the reptiles’ head. “Can it fly?” Natasha asked and Thor shook his head. “As far as I know, it can’t. but who knows maybe she gave’em some wings…” Loki stiffed up. “No. No, she didn’t. Now let’s leave, even I do not particularly feel like triggering a drakon by hanging around his tree.” Everyone agreed, much to his surprise and they slowly backed off. The drakon wouldn’t follow them, it stayed on its gigantic three-mile tree and only hissed warningly.

“So, where are we even going?” Natasha asked, attentively observing the surroundings. She had two knives drawn, her body tense and always ready for another drakon to drop down on them. As if a knife would help against a seven ton, rock hard scaled, ancient beast. “To the palace.” Thor answered drily and received a rather annoyed look from the avengers and a pained one from a certain frost-giant.

“I really don’t think that this is a benefitting idea for either of us brother.” Loki tried to pursue his brother, but Thor cut him off. “It is the best option for all of us Loki. It’s the safest place where I can bring you, not only just for your safety.” Clint seemed like he wanted to say something, but Natasha gave him a small push with her elbow. “I can’t believe she agreed to do this.” Loki just whispered and Thor chuckled mischievously.

“She hasn’t agreed on anything actually.” He then pulled at Loki’s chains since the prince stopped on his tracks immediately. “You haven’t asked her? She will behead me brother, the second she sees me!” he protested and stumbled forwards, still putting up resistance against Thor’s pulls. “She will not. We both know that and now come on.” Steve carefully cleared his throat. “Not to be impolite but who exactly are we talking about? And what is Vanaheim exactly?” he asked silenty and Thor gave him a motivational smile. “We are talking about a dear friend of Loki, also a dear friend of mine actually. She basically rules here and stuff. Really laid back lass.”

Loki huffed and rolled his eyes. “Friend of mine…” he whispered almost inaudible before carefully avoiding a bluish pulsating ivy creeper hanging from one of the trees. They seemed to follow a small path through the sparsely grown forest, almost unnoticeable for untrained eyes.

“But rules over what?” Bruce asked, his eyes wide. He brushed over a bush with silky soft leaves in a light green and yelped shocked when the rims of the leaves were razor-sharp. “Hvasslaufsblað-Laukr.” he snapped around.

“Excuse me?”

Loki stood behind him, his eyes following the steady trickle of blood that dropped from the long cut the leaves had caused him.

“Hvasslaufsblað-Laukr.” He repeated and pointed at the plant. “It’s called like that. Roughly translated it means Sharp-leafed plant. How ugly.” Bruce blinked confused as Loki passed him without another word.

“Vanaheim is one of the Nine Worlds and exists on the highest level of the World Tree.” Thor explained whilst carefully making his way through the slowly higher getting grass. “The World Tree?” Tony asked and Thor nodded. “Yggdrasil. Its inhabitants are the Vanir, masters of sorcery and magic. They are also widely recognized for their talent to predict the future and so on.” Loki rolled, slightly irritated by the rough description of his brother, his eyes again. His description wouldn’t even come close to the many wonders this world held.

“It’s beautiful.” Natasha sighed and he only snorted but said nothing. Suddenly the sky opened up, the trees stopped. The group had arrived at the top of a small hill where a silver glomming path leaded to a gigantic building. It looked like a mix between a forest, a palace and a beehive. The whole construct seemed to actually breathe and radiate energy.

“Ha! I knew I could still remember the way!” Thor cheered triumphantly and determinedly started to walk towards the magical place. Loki’s pale face almost turned ashy.

When the guards in front of the living tree portal recognised Thor, they lowered their weapons. They weren’t surprised about their appearance and that made Loki more than suspicious. Especially because they seemed to even expect him. Him, Loki the god of mischief that had parted with the people of Vanaheim in not a particularly friendly way – at least not with their leader. And with her, he was about to meet again and he was not ready for it.

“Look at who’s finally deciding to visit me again.” The voice was chilly, demanding and with a hint of anger. Thor immediately bowed respectfully and the rest of the avengers followed his example. Loki however stood still, his eyes on the ground.

“Of course minn dróttning.” Thor immediately answered and the woman chuckled softly. “I am not your queen Thor, son of Odin. How have you been and who have you brought with you?” Thor stood up fully and gave the woman sitting in front of them on a simple chair a dashing smile. “I have been very well. Let me quickly introduce my friends from Midgard to you.” He said with a knowing smile as he saw how your eyes flashed up in a bright and vivid green. “Midgard?” he nodded and carefully and slowly started to introduce every single one of the avengers in the old-fashioned way of Vanaheim, listing up all their titles and heroic deeds. The queen’s eyes changed colour all two to three names and titles, depending on the emotion you felt the second you heard them. When Thor finished you leaned back, her eyes now quickly switching between a deep purple and a vibrant red.

“I welcome you.” Was the only thing you remarked after a few seconds, still not paying attention to Loki, who slowly got jittery. “It looks wonderful here. Truly magnificent.” Bruce bubbled out and you tilted your head. “Thank you. It hasn’t always been this way.” Your voice suddenly seemed ice cold, eyes drained from all colour. “Vanaheim was one of the battlefields in the Vanir's raging war against the Aesir. It still is ravaged after the centuries-long war.” Thor shared an alarmed look with his brother who just pressed his lips together. He knew that the queen wasn’t in a particular good mood when it came to asgardians and particularly not when it came to the family of Odin.

“It was the marriage of Freya, one of the leaders of the Vanir, my mother, with Odin, the King of the Aesir, what finally brought peace to Vanaheim and the rest of the realms.” You continued coldly. “After the marriage's fallout, Odin locked the path to Vanaheim through Týr's Temple, allowing nobody to visit the realm. Which is also, why I haven’t seen my mother in over a decade and me and my people hardly ever get visitors.” The temperature in the room had dropped, all the lights lost their golden tone to it.

“Now, what are you here for? And why in the name of all god’s is he here.” you asked coldly, finally looking straight at Loki.

“Your highness…” Loki got down on his knee and the avengers threw each other surprised looks. Loki kneeling was a whole new thing. Your eyes had changed again, still whiteish and only a gleaming white ring was sparkling angrily at him. “You left, almost a decade ago, with the city on fire. It took us three weeks to put it out.” Loki had his eyes still glued on the floor.

“It was an accident milady.” He mumbled half-heartedly. “An accident?” you laughed coldly getting up abruptly. “An accident?!” you repeated again, your voice now noticeably louder. The avengers stepped back softly.

“Then so was that!” you snapped, slipping something from your finger. A golden ring gleamed up in the light, a snake that was about to swallow itself with a huge green jewel on top of its head. Thor sucked in a breath and so did Loki whose face had lost all colour again. He stood up as well, raising his hand.

“Please…” he only pushed out, a sincerity in his voice that surprised everyone in the room. “Don’t do this.” your hand shook lightly, the arm still risen and ready to throw the ring to Valhalla. “Give me a reason! You’re not even wearing yours.” your voice had turned into a whisper at the end, a pained expression flitting over your face. Loki frowned softly and rose his left hand. A green ring of light and energy wandered over his hand, the illusion of a bare hand disappearing. Suddenly, there sat a set of three rings on his ring finger, all of them connected by a octagon cut emerald that resembled the yours in colour perfectly. It seemed like they were both cut from the same emerald and Tony’s head spun at the thought of how big the emerald must have been. “Loki…” Thor whispered but Loki rose his hands. Thor closed his mouth again, staring at his brother in disbelief. Your hand sunk slowly. You sat down carefully, mustering the prince with a piercing glare.

“You haven’t took it off?” Loki shook his head. “Not once my queen.” you sighed softly, waving him closer quickly. Loki walked towards you, approaching the steps to your throne slowly and still a bit shaky. You extended your hand towards him, so he could slip the ring back on your finger.

“Forgive me.” You mumbled softly and Loki mustered a soft smile. “Forgive me, my love. I shouldn’t have left after the fire.” You just nodded, getting up once again. Suddenly you looked tired and drained, very unlike the vivid young woman everyone had first seen. “You have been missed. My people loved you.” you explained silently, having forgotten the rest of your guests that still stared at the two of you in confusion.

“Only your people?” Loki asked with a soft and knowing smirk before very carefully supporting your stand by placing his hand on your lower back. “You…I do not wish to elaborate my prince.” You brushed his comment off before giving him a sincere look. Loki just smirked mischievously bowing his head, gaze falling down to your lips. You had obviously picked up on his gaze, raising one eyebrow questioningly.

“Waiting on something?” your voice was quiet and not more than a whisper, but Loki’s eyes snapped up again. His eyes met yours, yet in a light pinkish colour, like a bushing sky in the morning. He swallowed thickly, eyes falling back to your lips.

“May I…?” his voice deeper than before, his warm breath feeling hot and a bit quicker against your lips. You only tilted your head, eyes switching into a deeper pink. Almost hesitant Loki moved in, lips delicately placing on yours. It was as if a spark run through the whole palace, the lights suddenly seeming to shine golden and warm. Thor couldn’t hold his smile back, so he looked down. As Loki moved back again, his cheeks were full of life and colour again, eyes vividly sparkling.

“I missed you too.” You whispered, a small smile gracing your features, as you linked your fingers with his. Loki took a deep and shaky breath, looking down at your beautiful appearance.

He had been lucky again, too lucky almost. Not that he complained, of course not.

And oh had he missed you too.

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson #loki odison x reader #loki of jotunheim #loki odinson #marvel imagine #tom hiddleston #loki is an avenger now #loki is the biggest softest baby fight me #imagines #one shot #avengers

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hadestownmodern · 4 years

Text

dont have sex u will get pregnant and get made fun of by persephone

Hi guys! @dilforpheus here! I want to preface that the first segment of this was written before the banter on Instagram, but once I saw it I had to incorporate it. There is one final segment with WAY too many spoilers to share yet!

This friendship/semi maternal relationship between Eurydice and Persephone is arguably my favorite in the ENTIRE modern au.

The exams were passed back with no particular ceremony. Just Persephone turning them over on Student’s desks, curling writing on the front projecting a number as to how well a student did. Eurydice wasn’t particularly paying attention. She didn’t sleep much the night before and her back was absolutely killing her. She wasn’t even sure how she was going to make it through the next fifty-seven minutes of Persephone lecturing her on social structure in some specific midwestern town and the obscure sociological study that was performed on middle schoolers in the region.

Eurydice barely notices when Persephone puts her returned exam in front of her, and most certainly misses the smirk on her features as she hands back the papers. Eurydice flips it over to see her grade- 87, adequate- before flipping through the exam to see what she missed. She notices that one corner is bumpier than the other, and flips to see what is interrupting the pages.

There, staples to the corner of her exam, is a single condom. Not much use now that there is a staple through the middle. In persephone’s swirling cursive is written

“You, like the girls in this study, could benefit from these -Seph”

Dumbfounded, Eurydice looked up to see Persephone smirking at her as she returned to her laptop in the front of the room .

“Are you fucking with me, Stephanie?” Eurydice mumbled, turning the paper to look at Persephone. “Jokes on you, i’m allergic to latex.” She quips, disregarding the fact she was fully in class in front of people she didn’t know. Fuck ‘em, she’d never see them again after this semester anyway. Persephone was going to be in her life forever.

“Excellent point. I’ll remember that for next time.”

They ignore the gaping looks of her classmates, and the murmured whispers as Persephone goes back to teaching and beginning the new unit.

“What did she just call her?” “Did she lowkey call Eurydice a whore?”

It’s halfway through class, not even a full 30 minutes into the lecture when Eurydice is grasping the edge of the desk so tightly her knuckles were white. Her breathing is labored, but only enough that a trained eye would see. She isn’t even taking notes as Persephone tosses a keyring at her. “Get out of here, you look like shit.”

Persephone is erasing the board before Eurydice can process it, grasping the key ring in her fingers.

“No, i’m staying. I have to learn this eventually before you give me an 87 again”

Persephone rolls her eyes before shutting her laptop. “Fine. Class is over.”

Noone else in the class argues as they quickly pack up their things and scramble out of the classroom, short “bye” and “have a good weekends” pour out of their mouths as Persephone watches them go. She sits at the now empty desk beside Eurydice and runs a hand over her hair. “Is it your back again… Orpheus told me it’s been bothering you recently.”

Eurydice only nods, letting out a shaky breath. ‘You didn’t need to end class-”

“Well you weren’t leaving, and you were distracting me. I was afraid you were gonna pass out right here.”

Eurydice laughs half heartedly, and starts to put her stuff in her bag. “Thank you, Perstephanie.”

Persephone put an arm around her shoulder and rubbed her shoulder. “You know, if you used a condom, you wouldn’t be having this problem.”

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

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Eurydice pulled out the tissue paper, pulling a single box of condoms out. Attached was a note, in Persephone’s flourished cursive.

��So next birthday you don’t have to be pregnant -Seph. P.s. the real present is a vacation where you can put these into use. “

“I’m just saying, twenty two is way more fun when you don’t have feet you can’t see.” Persephone is on the other side of the bar, pouring herself an extra drink to toast to Eurydice, where she herself could not. “We could be drinking on the beach, but no, you drank two glasses of wine at my house and ended up in bed with my nephew.”

“Oh fuck off, You set me up for that-”

“EuRyDiCe! PeRsEpHonE!” Orpheus’ voice cracks from the other end of the bar at the same time a shot glass slips from his fingers and shatters on the ground. “What...whats going on? Why are you fighting?”

His hazel eyes are wide as they flick between the two most important women in his life who are seemingly arguing over..a gift? Their impending child? “I thought you liked each other!”

Eurydice reached out and grabbed his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We do, Orpheus. We’re just messing around.”

“We do this in class all the time!” Persephone promised, squeezing his shoulder. “And you clearly didn’t listen when I taught you what safe sex was all those years ago. Maybe it’ll get through to her.”

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

There’s a gentle knock on the door that startles Eurydice, who pulls her eyes away from her daughter. A couple of hours old and she already seemed to shift the tilt of her world’s axis. She’s finally showered and in something comfortable when Orpheus stepped out to grab something to eat- namely, bring her fries from that diner down the street. She deserved it, dammit. Eurydice looks up to see Persephone in the doorway, waving and smiling brightly.

“Hey sunshine, can I come in?” Persephone peaks in, genuine joy on her face as she watched Eurydice. So young, but in the short time she’s known her, she’s seen her grow into a completely different woman. “Everyone else will be here soon..Junie’s with my mom..but I wanted to see you.” Yes, she was overjoyed to see this baby that belonged to the boy she raised, but her priority was currently on the woman holding her. She wasn’t about to let her get overlooked in all the excitement of the baby.

“Yeah, Yeah of course… I’m trying to get the hang of feeding her, but then she fell asleep. And they keep telling me to sleep when she does. But I can’t seem to stop looking at her…”

Persephone sat on the end of the bed, near Eurydice but not daring to crowd her personal space. “No, no I understand completely. I didn’t even put Junie down for about two weeks. Wouldn’t even let my mama hold her..” She rests her hand on Eurydice’s knee with a smile. “So a girl, huh? Does she have a name yet?

“Don’t act like you didn’t know.” Eurydice teased, running her finger over the baby’s nose with a lazy smile. “Your mother knows everything. But yes. I can’t believe it. I love her so much already, and I’ve barely known her three hours...we can’t name her. Nothing seems good enough..I’ve called her french fry for months now.”

“Even you’re starting to believe in her magic. That’s impressive. And a name will come to you. Well, My mother named Junie. No way in hell did my husband pick the name Juniper.” Persephone watched the way Eurydice didn’t even look at her, unable to drag her eyes away from the tiny person she held in the crook of her arm. “How are you, honey. And don’t give me that fine, bullshit.”

“i...I’m so happy. I love her so much and I love Orpheus so much and- i’m so tired.” Eurydice admits, letting out a sigh. “I love her so much, and I can’t even describe how happy I am. But i’m tired and I didn’t realize how much pain i’d still be in.. and it’s like her gums are razor blades and I don’t think i’m every going to physically be capable of having sex again, not to mention why would Orpheus even want to and- I’m so tired but I can’t look away from her! I can’t put her down. She’s been apart of me for so long.” She’s crying before she realizes it, warm tears running down her face. She hiccups as she feels the baby starting to move in her arms and almost cries harder. How was she supposed to do this if she was already exhausted?

Persephone is closer to her, tucking black curls behind her ear before wiping at her cheeks. “It’s okay, Eurydice, it’s okay. I understand. I really do. I felt guilty for being tired, for not being on top of the game all the time. I worked so hard to have her, how dare I be anything less than 100%.” She pulled her head to her chest, stroking Eurydice’s soft curls as she held her. Eurydice needed a mother, she needed a mother to care about her, and Persephone was more than glad to fill her part. “”I would take showers that were exactly three minutes long. And for 180 seconds I would sob. Because how dare I be anything less that grateful. But fuck, I just wanted a nap for more than two hours at a time. And to not feel like a cow. So I get it.”

Persephone kisses the top of Eurydice’s head, feeling the girl’s body just shake as she cried into her. Of course she kept it in. Women were trained to think they could show nothing but joy that day, when in reality the emotional highs and lows came like the changing tide. “It’s okay. You’re going to be the best mom. You are allowed to feel things, Eurydice” She promises, allowing herself a glance down at the incredibly small little girl Eurydice was clutching as if her life depended on it. “She’s so beautiful already. Looks just like you…”

“She looks like a potato alien, you can say it!” Eurydice whined, hiding her face in Persephone’s shoulder.

“Well..all babies do. But you ate so many fries what do you expect other than a potato?” It’s teasing, and light, and the way Perspehone lightens the mood. She won’t dare ask to hold the baby, not with the way Eurydice anchors herself by holding her.

“I feel like I got punched in the stomach with at least six knives and then someone ripped out whatever balances my emotions. All that while feeling like a dairy cow mixed with the happiest person in the world.” Eurydice tries to describe, laughing just a little as she wiped her tears away. “I’m a mess.”

“Well, you know, all of that could have been prevented with a condom. Which, by the way-” She pulled out a card and handed it to her. “Heres one for safekeeping, remember it in six weeks.”

“You’re such an asshole sometimes.”

“I know.”

#modern au #hadestown modern au #persephone #eurydice #persephone and eurydice friendship

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btgalaxy · 5 years

Text

Moonlight ~ Jungkook wolf!au

➳ pairing: jungkook x reader

➳ genre: wolf!au, a little bit of everything tbh; angst, fluff, smut

➳ word count: 3.8k

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Chapter 7

A firm rapping at the door disturbs you and Jin from your watching of ‘Gone with the Wind’, the two of you swimming in a sea of snacks on the bed he collected earlier from the kitchen. After you’d talked things through, you decided it would be best to chill out for a bit, so you drained the bath and took a quick shower and you’ve been laying lazily on the bed ever since, mimicking Vivien Leigh’s Southern accent.

You frown nervously at Jin when the noise resonates through the room.

“It’s Jungkook,” your mate calls from behind the door. Your eyes widen as the two of you share a nervous look, before Jin slowly gets up from the bed, an undecipherable expression on his face as he picks up the bowls and bags of snacks to hug them in his arms.

“Wait, Jin, you don’t have to go,” you tell him quickly, and this triggers the door to suddenly swing open, Jungkook striding in with a huff as he observes the scene in front of him and glaring about like some predator.

Jin freezes under the harsh gaze, “Alpha.”

“I need to talk with my mate,” Jungkook glowers, analysing every moment in abundant detail as he takes very deliberate breaths, clearly trying to sniff out how much of Jin’s scent lingers in his bedroom.

“Of course, Alpha,” Jin hurriedly gathers the rest of the food, struggling with it in his arms as he scurries to the door. He turns to you under the arch, nodding curtly, “Luna.” He finally gives a small smile before leaving, with the sound of clattering some moments later.

You sigh, avoiding Jungkook’s eyes, “I should help him.” But before you’re able to reach the door, your mate steps into the way to stop you.

“He’ll be fine,” he insists, “Won’t you talk to me?”

You curl your lips in an irritated manner, “You seem to do as you please no matter what I say, Alpha.” Jungkook winces at the memory, clearly trying to maintain control over his wolf despite your provoking; he’s determined not to yield to those primitive instincts biting at his tongue, telling him to tower over and intimidate you into submission. But he won’t do that- he won’t allow his actions to be governed by nature this time, this time he’ll think.

“Y/N,” He looks at you wholeheartedly, with a sense of sincerity that cannot be feigned, “Y/N, I’m so unbelievably sorry for what happened that night; just- I cannot even think about the way you were crying and trying to stop me and-“ He cuts himself off, trying to find a way to phrase it that doesn’t sound so entirely morbid.

You stay standing a good metres distance from him as he slumps on the foot of the bed, head held in his hands as they rub over his cheeks, “I hate myself for getting out of control the way I did,” he continues, “It was wrong and I admit that I honestly would do anything to undo it.”

“You can’t undo it,” you bite back, desperate not to look at him else you have a feeling you could cave.

“I know it’s unforgivable. And I know if we were human and not mated then I would have no chance on earth of you ever being able to look at me lovingly or caringly and be able to forgive me fully ever again, but we’re mates and I- I can’t lose you I-,“ When his voice breaks your heart lurches enough to make your stomach churn. He exhales deeply to level out his breathing, “I understand if you hate me right now. I also understand if you’re overwhelmed from going from Theta to Luna, I-“

“I’m not,” you interrupt, cautiously, “I’m not overwhelmed by it.”

He lets a small smile slip through in admiration, wondering how in hell’s name he could ever hurt you the way he did, “It’s okay if you are. And it’s okay if you-,” He pauses, trying to form the words with profound difficulty, “It’s okay if you want to be separate from me for a while. If that means living separately, or- or not seeing each other so you can have some space then that’s okay.”

It’s an automatic response that your brows are raised and lips part slightly in shock. Are you hearing this right? You watch as his body tenses, head falling back to face the ceiling with his eyes squeezed shut, trying to contain his emotions.

When he looks at you again, you feel his pain, “When you ran, when Jin came running to tell me, I’ve never felt so out of control. I have control over everything; my pack, my life, my money, my land, my- my anything. But you’re the one thing that I can’t control and- and I want to give you more freedom, even though you’ve got to know my wolf is telling me not to. And especially after finding you with Taehyung I just couldn’t even control- I mean, I couldn’t stand you being with another wolf, let alone another Alpha, so- so, I’m shit at this.” He shakes his head, scolding himself. “I’m just trying to say that I’m fighting everything I am to try and make this work, so please, please, will you just understand?”

The room falls quiet with contemplation from the both of you, trying to piece together the shattered pieces of your relationship with some desperation. You’ve never seen an Alpha this way, so vulnerable and open. By nature, they’re inclined to keep their emotions reserved and at bay, and you’ve no doubt it was his Beta to coax him into doing this, but nonetheless he’s opened up to you, and that in itself is an achievement; a step forwards.

Forgiving him may be a stupid idea. Maybe this is all an act, just a way to coverup his lack of control and manipulate you into forgiveness till he does something worse. But he’s also your mate, the only man on this earth that could ever make you truly happy, and you’ve really nothing but the option to give him the benefit of the doubt.

You gulp, breathing heavily, slowly deliberating your actions, “I- I want some days to myself.”

His head snaps towards you, “What?”

“I- ,” You drag your lower lip between your teeth, “When I want time to myself I want you to give it to me. I want my own space too.”

“Like your own room?” He near chokes out with reluctance, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes in response.

You sigh, “Not exactly, just some place that is only mine. But if I were to want my own room then-“

“Then you’d get it.” Your mate stands up, a small smile poking at the corner of his lips.

As he takes a step towards you, you aren’t even sure what to do, where to go. You hate feeling this nervous around your mate, but simultaneously there’s the wolf part of you that just wants to forgive him at this point- to just launch yourself into his arms and embrace him with the love of newlyweds. You’ve never felt so conflicted in your life. And you’ve no more time to think as he approaches you hesitantly, head bowed slightly with a nervous posture.

“So-,” he stammers slightly, “Is- I don’t mean to pressure you, I just-“ His difficulty to ask for forgiveness prompts you enough to speak up, not really thinking.

You interrupt him rapidly, quick to justify yourself, “It’s your only chance of a fresh start. I’m not going to go through that again. I want my mate, not an Alpha that I’m scared of being with. And if you do then I’ll-”

“I’ll never hurt you.” He finally gives into his instincts, bringing you into his arms and squeezing you against his chest tightly. You forgot how good he smelled, wafting up your nose like the aroma of a fresh bakery, and sprigs of lavender in the summer. You’re already intoxicated.

It’s muffled, but you hear him mumble into your shoulder, “Please don’t run again. I can’t handle that. Anything but that.”

It feels so incredible to be close to your mate again, and you too feel the pull of your wolf aching to hold him, so you hesitantly bring your arms up to snake around his waist, feeling the muscle ripple beneath your touch. He responsively curls closer into you, bringing your bodies as close as humanly possible, clinging desperately like magnets.

He pulls back briefly to rest his forehead against yours, igniting your whole body alight with warmth and security; worlds away from after that night.

“I want to take you away. I want to go somewhere it’s just you and me and there’s no Rogues, nor packs to worry about, and no damn Epsilons getting in the way.”

You let out a small laugh, looking up at him with a tender glint in your eye, “I’d like that.”

“You would?” He seems taken aback, and you subconsciously lean into him as his doe eyes glimmer at you with surprise, revelling in the effect you have on him. What you don’t expect, however, is him to take your movement as an opportunity to lean in and kiss you. The moment his lips press to yours, you snap back, equally as shocked.

He sucks in a shallow breath, stuttering for a second, “Fuck, sorry, I- that wasn’t-“

You swiftly lean back into him, pulling his lips back against yours with fervent desire, fuelled by his hands instinctively falling to your waist and holding you against him. You back up slowly against the force of his kiss, desperately savouring the taste after he so nearly lost you. The strength of the wall offers a brace for you to push harder against your mate, the feel of his tongue softly gliding across your lower lip sending you and your wolf into a frenzy as your hands run up his back and into the strands of his hair, clutching onto the dark locks.

A moan slips through your lips when he rolls his hips into you, and you fleetingly open your eyes to look at each other to see your mate’s usual chocolate orbs have turned a lustful black, shining with desire. He rapidly darts into your neck, pressing his lips to the outline of your mark and a shot of adrenaline pulses through you like bullets, making you weak in the legs enough so that his hands slip under your shirt to hold you up.

The feel of your bare skin under his touch urges him to bring the fabric up higher till his hands are able to reach up to the wire of your bra, tracing the outline of your breast when suddenly the door clicks open.

“Get out!” Jungkook roars, immediately pulling back and instinctively pressing himself against you to cover your hitched up shirt, hands slammed against either side of your head.

“Oh-“ The door slams shut, and Jin retreats back into the hall at the speed of light, although you’re somewhat thankful of his intrusion. You’ve no idea what would’ve happened had he not.

Jungkook looks at you, realising his position and moving back to allow you to pull your shirt back down and step away from the wall.

“I’m sorry,” he coughs, rubbing at his eyes and you try to look anywhere but the intimidating tent that has formed in the crotch of his trousers.

You attempt to obscure a laugh as he ‘adjusts’ himself, “It’s okay.”

He notices your concealment, tilting his head with a humorous glint, “Something funny?”

“No.” You close your eyes, unsuccessful in refraining from smiling widely, entirely entertained by the situation.

“Oh, really?” He challenges, approaching you again with his hands curled as you retreat back with profuse apologies. However, he doesn’t acknowledge them, instead pouncing forwards to begin pinching at yours sides and your belly, making you squirm and squeal beneath him through bouts of laughter.

“No, no, no!” You cry, laughing loudly when Jimin comes bursting through the door, glancing around frantically as if he were on a police raid. When he processes the two of you, however, he falls timid, lowering his gaze to the floor and bowing his head.

“Alpha, Luna, I- I’m sorry, I thought- I thought something else had…,” he trails off, immediately dampening the mood as Jungkook removes his hands from you, everyone thoroughly uncomfortable, bar Jin who stands behind Jimin in the corridor, unenlightened on the situation.

“I’m sorry for intruding,” Jimin reasserts himself, “But there’s a code green down at the South border; it’s Rogues, Alpha.”

Jungkook mutters a curse under his breath, dismissing the two wolves hastily and turning to you with an apologetic look, and you already know what he’s going to say; expect it, even.

“It’s okay.” You stop him, giving him a pitiful smile, “You have Alpha things to do.”

“I’ll be back later, I promise.” He kisses you gently on the forehead and squeezes your hand before making a prompt exit, and you’re left alone again.

“She what?” You smile down the landline at your father, curling your arms around your knees to bring them in closer to your chest.

“She thought I was cheating, she was trying to test me,” he explains, chuckling throatily at the same time.

“Did you pass?”

“Only just,” he teases, and you can feel him smiling through the phone, “You sound much happier, poppet.”

You sigh somewhat contentedly, “I certainly feel better.”

“I told you, love, it takes time.”

You glance at the clock on the wall, processing the time and exhaling deeply, “Dad, it’s late. You should get some sleep.”

“Are you implying that I’m old?” He counters, jokily.

“Dad!” You whine, “I’m gonna hang up now. You need to sleep.”

“Alright, poppet. I’ll talk to you soon. Wish my best to Jungkook?”

“I will. I love you.”

“You too.” You place the landline back on the hub in Jungkook’s office, sighing fondly at the voice of your father still ringing in your ears. You miss him immensely. More than you could ever have imagined when leaving Scarlet Oak. You worry every day whether he’s eating properly, sleeping well, going out often rather than staying inside all the time studying his books and treating his patients. He’s often too compassionate, placing others before himself when really he should be taking more care and focusing on his own health. If only he wasn’t so stubborn, maybe he would be down one bad back and up a few friends. You exhale, you can dream.

You turn to leave when a slightly wedged open drawer catches your eye and you make a double take. You don’t even think as you open it a little more, pulling back the mahogany to reveal another picture frame, the glass shattered into thousands of pieces littering the bottom of the wood. You carefully lean down to shake off the various sharp segments, picking up the image to get a better look.

The man. Jungkook’s father. It shows the two of them in the pack house, looking over some documents on a desk, rather seriously. His father, however, looks immeasurably proud, an arm over the back of his son gripping onto a pencil as he writes on one of the forms. They look happy. So what on earth happened? You don’t risk lurking around any further, placing everything back the way you found it and trudging out of the office.

“Y/N-“ Jin’s voice startles you enough you jump back, eyes wide and chest heaving with fright, “Shit, sorry, I was looking for you.”

“Why didn’t you call for me first?” You heave.

He shrugs, nonchalantly, “Alpha’s waiting for you.”

You frown in response, but after some questioning it’s clear he hasn’t a clue what it’s about, thus the two of you bundle into his jeep, chatting aimlessly about things, both actively ignoring the somewhat compromising position you and your mate were caught in earlier.

“What happened with the Rogue attack?” You ask, igniting a conversation as you fiddle cautiously with the belt strapped over your chest and ignoring the awkward atmosphere.

“It was only a few; nothing we couldn’t handle. Most of them retreated, too,” he explains, and you nod in response.

“Did you fight?”

“Nah, I only fight in the difficult stuff.” He looks over at you and raises his eyebrows jokily, and you subconsciously reach out your arm to hit him, making the car swerve across the road.

“Y/N!” He gasps, “I’m driving!”

“Oops,” you deadpan, highly entertained by his outraged expression and slack jaw.

“You’re mad,” he tuts, exhaling to calm himself, “I don’t need to get into any more trouble.”

When you reach the town you head straight into the pack house, Jin glued to your side after the previous time you were here, not wanting to repeat history. You ignore his proximity, however, instead your attention is drawn to the crowd of wolves outside, just lingering as they talk amongst themselves, clearly out of place.

“What are they doing here?” You ask, but Jin just shrugs in response, ushering you through the door somewhat frantically.

Once inside, you are guided down a hallway ridden with pictures of previous Alphas and pack members, and various achievements on Newspaper cut-outs or medals or trophies. It’s odd, though, how you don’t see a single memoir or photo of the man you assume to be Jungkook’s father, the previous Alpha. You’re distracted as you near the room at the end, a certain familiar smell enveloping you warmly.

Jin opens the door for you, allowing you inside before shutting it behind and leaving you to the lone presence of your mate.

“Y/N,” Jungkook grins, walking over to you to encase you in his arms; baffling the hell out of you. Why is it so weird to see him affectionate? Then you realise the room has been emptied by him, hence all the wolves stood loitering outside.

“Hey…” Babe? Love? Gorgeous? Mate? “Alpha…” Fuck.

He frowns down at you, “Don’t call me Alpha.” His tone is cold and demanding, bringing his hands up to cup your face, “Call me handsome.” His tone changes entirely and the wink that follows makes you laugh, and you come to the conclusion you thoroughly enjoy this side of him, and you’ll enjoy it for as long as it lasts.

“What do you want?” You grin, pushing at his shoulder to look at the array of documents strewn across the table, catching your eye.

“Yes, right,” he refocuses himself, placing his palm on your lower back to guide you to the files and sucking in a breath through his teeth. “These are the official documents regarding your Luna duties, and your official welcoming into the pack.” He squeezes at your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder as you pick up one of the certificates, thumbing the corner as you scan it meticulously.

“They’re going to begin readying for your introduction tomorrow; it’ll be sorted by next week.” He turns you to face him and take your attention from the form, grin still firm on his lips, “It’s always a great time for the pack, especially with all the shit with those Rogues, it’ll be a welcomed distraction. I’ll take you into the town to get a dress tailored tomorrow. I think you’ll look gorgeous in green…” His head begins leaning down towards you when you turn rapidly away, moving from his grip and back to the documents on the table.

“I thought we were going to do this slowly, Jungkook,” you say, back facing him as you nervously graze over the papers.

“I thought you weren’t overwhelmed about being Luna?”

You begin tripping over your words in regret, “No, I- It’s not that I’m overwhelmed, I just- making it official?” You turn to face him, “Already?”

His face falls slightly, hurt by your refusal, “I thought you forgave me.”

You sigh, “I have. But, the official Luna? That’s so- it’s so- final. I don’t know, maybe it is a bit daunting. I don’t know.”

You slump down onto one of the chairs with a huff, one arm resting on the wood and the other raking through your hair, pushing it out of your face to get a better look at the various contracts and duties you’ll need to fulfil. A lot is required of a real Luna; a certain way you should act, look, be. Alphas are raised for their rank, they’re groomed to be the perfect Alphas. A Luna has to learn from the moment she’s mated, and so much more is expected of the female regarding socialising with the pack members and keeping the peace. Maybe you’ve been in denial the whole time, you conclude.

Jungkook ambles over to you carefully, watching the anxiety ripple into you in waves, “You don’t want to be officialised yet?” He sits across from you, cautiously leaning over to rub one of your hands, and you allow the comfort, calming your nerves as he gently caresses the flesh.

“You said you would give me space, and I could do what I want, when I want. And this is what I want to do.” Your tone is firm, riddled with finality, and it pleases you to see your mate accept it. Granted, he isn’t very good at concealing his disappointment- every wolf yearns to show off their mate to the public- he still grants you this though, and that’s quite the improvement.

He lets out a deep breath, releasing your hand and running his own up and down his thighs, “Well then, let’s get home. I’m exhausted after today. Have you eaten yet?”

The house feels bizarre with Jungkook downstairs cooking as you sit in your bedroom, landline in your hands and thoughts racing through your head like hell-hounds. He won’t answer. He won’t talk to you. The feeling of rejection bites at your pride, but you can’t let that stop you. You won’t let it stop you.

If Jungkook is making an effort with you, surely you must be inclined to make an effort with your best friend, that you knew long before your mate. You should at least try.

“Hey… Hobi. It’s Y/N. I- I just wanted to say that I don’t care what you and June do, or what you don’t do- I just want to let you know that I love you, and you can talk to me. And I’d love a friend. I miss you so much it hurts, and the second you get this please call me back. I’ll keep calling until you do. I’ll see you soon, Hobi. I love you.”

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#moonlight #bts #bts wolf au #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook wolf au #admin lottie

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realfuurikuuri · 4 years

Link

Chapters: 7/? Fandom: Mao Mao: Heroes of Pure Heart (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

MissingArm!AU: When escaping the cave, it wasn't his tail that got crushed. In exchange for his innocence, he gained a sordid past. The Pure Heart Valley seemed like a good place to escape. To start a new life with a new family to forge a new identity. However, when the past rears its ugly head Mao Mao's forced to step up or be put down.

AN: This chapter took a while to come out. Mostly because it's kind of long and I had to reorganize and outline it twice before actually getting into it. I had to cut two big scenes out, otherwise, the chapter would be like 20 pages, and I'm saving all of us that trouble. This chapter is definitely the most morose. I'm probably going to need to add the depression and alcoholism tags after putting this chapter up, aren't I? Let's celebrate reaching a major milestone in the series! YAY!!!!! As always follow @spookylovesboba, and enjoy the chapter.

Direct link to chapter 7 on AO3: XXXXXX

MissingArm!AU Chapter 7: In Death Life Flashes Before My Eyes

Mao Mao sat alone. Drinking and thinking. Thinking and drinking. Something about today had brought out his masochistic side. He placed his hand on one stove hot memory after the next. Some were arguably good ones. Some were practically nightmares. He was sifting through his own memories like a gold crazed idiot panning a riverbed.

However, Mao Mao was looking for anything but gold. He needed to know what went wrong.

Maybe he shouldn't have gotten with Tanya in the first place, or maybe he shouldn't have had a child in the first place. He had just turned 18, Tanya was only a year older than him. They were still kids. They were too young, too immature. An 18-year-old teenager isn’t ready for the kind of responsibility it takes to raise a child. He knew that then and he definitely knew that now… yet he did it anyway.

Why did he get with Tanya in the first place?

Mao Mao took a bottle of brandy to his lips, disappointed to find it empty as he began to remember.

* * *

It was after he had already lost his arm and began dressing in red. They were somewhere in the kingdom of Queen’s Putland. He and Tanya were active in that area for quite some time. Tanya was hurting for money and found a contract she desperately needed, but on the way, it started to rain. Instead of spending his birthday camping, Tanya led him to a shady pub hidden in the trunk of a tree. It wasn’t the kind of place he'd like to spend his 18th birthday, but the kind gesture did make him blush.

Despite being hidden the place was buzzing with activity. Every seat at the tables was filled and a sea of people surrounded that. Someone sat down as soon as another got up. Strangers talked freely like everyone was a friend. It was strange. He didn’t know people could be this friendly. Tanya dragged him out of his thoughts, pulling him to the empty stools at the bar.

“Whaddya want,” the Bartender Baboon asked.

“Gimme a vodka buck and- ,” Tanya turned to her side,” Mao Mao what are you getting?”

“What do they have to eat?”

“Its’ no fun to drink on a full stomach.”

“I’m not thirsty, I’m hungry. I don’t even like the taste of alcohol.”

Tanya rolled her eyes before her eyes lit up with an idea. “And virgin will have hard cider.”

“Hey!”

“And wings,” she added.

“I was objecting to the virgin part,” he said.

“If you don’t like being called a virgin, well… I can help you with that.”

“What,” Mao Mao rebuffed,” no, what’re you-, that’s just-, no.”

Tanya just laughed at Mao Mao, pinching his rosy, red cheeks. “You’re adorable, virgin.”

The bar baboon came back with the drinks and wings. Tanya didn’t hesitate to start drinking; Mao Mao pulled the plate of wings of closer.

“For the love of god don’t eat wings with your gloves on,” Tanya said.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he snarked back.

“You’re so weird about your gloves,” she said.

“They’re just gloves.”

“That you never take off.”

“I do take them off.”

“Oh yeah? When?”

“When I get in the shower. When I take a bath-”

“You only take them off when you need to get nakey, is that right?”

“Well, I guess…”

“Does that include sex? Or do you wear them during that too?”

“Well... I mean I guess I’d take them off for canoodling.”

Tanya looked at him, stunned, almost confused before the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile. “Oh my god you call it canoodling,” she said in between laughs.

“It’s not funny!”

“Oh don’t worry, Virgin. It was… cute. Calm down and get drunk with me.”

Mao Mao grumbled and took a sip of the cider. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it’d be. The cider was thick and tasted of autumn apples, instead of alcohol. Although, he could still feel it burn the back of his throat.

The bar baboon had watched all of that take place with some interest. “Did your parents really name you Virgin,” he asked.

“...They had a habit of screwing me over,” Mao Mao said. He didn’t like lying, but what he said wasn’t exactly a lie.

Mao Mao and the bartender continued to talk, eventually, Tanya joined in too. It was odd. Maybe it was the jovial atmosphere of the pub, maybe it was the alcohol, but the walls people put up just broke down. There was no such thing as oversharing. He, Tanya, and the bartender just became part of the crowd. Before he knew it Mao Mao had counted 4 pints of cider. He learned that the Bartender came from a small family and that he was bartending as a way to get money. He hoped to become a musician later. Despite learning all that about him Mao Mao never actually got to ask him his name.

He could have kept talking, but Tanya had already hit her limit on booze. The glass of water was proof that it was time to leave. Where did he put his wallet? He stopped searching when Tanya placed what little money she had left to cover the bill.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said.

“Come on it's your birthday. I can’t get you a cake, so at least let me treat you. Happy Birthday, Virgin.”

That simple gesture made something click into place in Mao Mao’s head. H liked Tany; he cared for her too. He just wasn't sure if she cared for him. That gesture proved she did. Mao Mao blinked a few tears out of his eyes, struggling to process the well of emotions.

“You alright, Virgin?”

Mao Mao didn't say anything. He leaned over and gave Tanya a small kiss on the cheek.

The bartender let out a long whistle.

A slow smile formed across her face and she let out a small bark of laughter. “What was that? I could’ve sworn you thought PDA was illegal.”

Mao Mao fiddled with his tail between his fingers. “We… never really celebrated my birthday back home. Thank you for… caring about me.”

“Hey, Mao Mao,” Tanya spoke up,” do you wanna make more of this?”

“Sure.”

Tanya picked Mao Mao up by the arm and pulled him to the bathroom in the back of the pub. She stopped calling him virgin after that. Once she saw him without gloves she gave him a new nickname: Mittens.

* * *

And that’s how Jǐngtì was made. Needless to say, it wasn’t how he imagined his first time would be. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t started under the ever blossoms, or started with some grand and fancy gestures. Instead, it was done in the bathroom of a bar that almost definitely didn’t have an alcohol license. He didn’t think it’d be the start of anything. It was supposed to be a one-time thing. They were supposed to stay friends, maybe friends with benefits, not parents.

Jǐngtì...

Mao Mao let out a slight huff in amazement. It's not a thing he should say, but Jǐngtì shouldn’t exist. He wasn’t being mean it was just how biology worked. Mao Mao’s a cat. Tanya’s a tanuki. Their species weren’t even apart of the same phylum or genus. They shouldn’t even be able to have a kid by scientific standards, but Tanya wasn’t scientific. The OB-GYN said it was due to Tanya’s magical nature that the pregnancy was even possible. Her magic was more than skin deep. It was the incredible magic stored in every cell that made the pregnancy possible, even then, the odds of pregnancy were less than 10/1. He only exists due to magic.

Mao Mao never liked magic.

Badgerclops didn’t like magic tricks; Mao Mao didn’t magic tricks either, but genuine magic was something he disliked far more. Magic could be unwieldy at best and a monkey’s paw at worst. At first, he thought Jǐngtì leaned towards being the former, but he was very much the latter. The child did permanently tie Tanya and him together, but it was also the reason they’d permanently split apart.

The reason he and Tanya split apart was an “irreconcilable difference” as marriage counselors would like to call it. Ignoring the fact that they never got married, It wasn’t anything so disgustingly formal, just two people realizing that they’d never see eye to eye, and it was best to split apart. There was no yelling; only mutual understanding. It was an adult’s hell.

Mao Mao rolled away empty cans of beer down the empty hall as the memories came back to him.

* * *

Mao Mao waited in the lobby of an abandoned hotel. It reeked of mildew and mold. The boards had more than rotted through. He sat in an old lounge chair filled with holes and leaking cotton, waiting for Tanya to get back. He bided his time by chewing his claws off, wincing in pain when he went too far. Patience was never his virtue.

Get back from where?

Jǐngtì’s preliminary hearing.

The child had taken the worst qualities of both parents. Tanyas tendency to overlook laws, and Mao Mao’s incessant need to go above and beyond. From the way Jǐngtì told it, he was looking to make quick cash, and instead of asking his parents or even doing something kind of shady, he turned his eyes to glittering jewels and gold on the monarchs’ crown. Even Jǐngtì’s half-baked magic would be more than enough to succeed at his heist. He should have known something was up when Jǐngtì started hurrying them out of the city. Perhaps he should have listened to his child… too late for any of that now. Justice had already caught up and was doing its thing.

He shifted his head up when he heard thumping on the floor above him, following the sound who leaped down the broken staircase to the lobby. She dusted cobwebs out of her fur, muttering something so fast Mao Mao couldn’t understand. He watched her pace in large circles around the lobby.

He waited for the small gap when she took a breath to ask his first question. “How did the hearing go?”

“Did you hear anything I said?”

“You muttered.”

Tanya pinched the bridge of her nose. “Jǐngtì clearly lost.”

“Well, yeah. He admitted it to us, and there's a written confession.”

“Are you trying to help or make feel like shit?”

He placed a hand on Tanya’s shoulder,” I know the penal code requires bail be set before the final trial.”

She brushed his hand off,” the bail doesn’t matter.”

“Why? What’s wrong with the bail?”

“It’s 300-million fucking dollars.”

Now the way Tanya was acting made sense. He pursed his lips and began to think. What to do? What to do? $300,000,000 was more than a king’s ransom. He was sure it was worth more than some countries. He’d say they were probably overreacting, but it was probably low-balling the price of the crown. That was more money than he even considered bringing with him when he left home.

Home… His family certainly had that kind of money to throw around.

No. Mao Mao pushed the thought from his mind. He’ll make the compulsory visits for the holidays, but he’ll be the last to arrive and the first to leave. He wasn’t going to ask for their help. He hated them. He wasn’t going to explain his new family to them. Not Tanya, and certainly not Jǐngtì. This was not the Mao clan’s problem. He’d become a hero and make his legend without them.

He had hoped that bail would give him an out. Unfortunately, his hopes were pointless. He had something to tell Tanya. He hoped he wouldn’t, but...what else is there to do?

“What are we going to do? What are we going to do?” Tanya asked herself, pacing around the room again. “What are we going to do?”

“Should we even do anything,” he asked.

Tanya stopped, slowly turning to face Mao Mao. “What?”

“I don’t think there is much we can -should- do,” he clarified.

“Explain.”

“Well… Jǐngtì did steal the crown. Putland has every right to be mad and prosecute-”

“So, we’re supposed to let them do whatever they want with him?”

“I know the penal code. He’s too young to be executed and besides they couldn’t do an execution until after the crown was found. We would still be able to visit him in jail-”

“Stop!” Tanya snapped before softening,” Mittens, just stop.”

Mao Mao waited while Tanya put her face in her hands before looking up. “I’m going to need you to make a choice. Are you siding with Putland, or Jǐngtì. Do you care more about your principals or your son?”

“What? How can you ask that?”

“I’m going to need your answer.”

Mao Mao hesitated. “A hero… can’t ignore the law.”

“Then,” she pointed to the two of them,” isn’t going to work. We aren’t going to work.”

Her voice was flat and stern. Something she used on her bounty’s not him.

“Tanya...” he was about to reach out, but couldn't bring himself to.

“I wish you well or whatever. I have things to do,” he said, looking him in the eye,” goodbye Mao Mao.”

She hadn’t called him Mao Mao in years. He was still numb when he packed his things and left. All he could think about was how much he needed a drink.

* * *

Mao Mao writhed on the kitchen floor. He felt sad for himself. He regretted his actions. He was angry at the world. The torrent, swirl, and monsoon of emotion threatened to tear him apart. He could feel it all mixing up inside of him with a scorching intensity.

He needed a drink.

He felt around the bottles and cans surrounding him. All empty. Mao Mao turned his attention upwards, toward where the alcohol was shelved. He climbed onto the counter, reaching into the depths. He gripped the last bottle by the neck. He tried to pull back but tripped over his own feet. Instead of trying to break the fall he hit the floor, holding his saving grace up and out of harm's way.

He crawled his way to the living room. He climbed onto the couch to take a breath. The saving grace in his hands was an emerald green bottle of saké: Japanese rice wine. It was a gift he got from Papa a while back. How disgustingly vapid. He didn’t like alcohol, and he certainly didn’t like his father.

Mao Mao uncorked the bottle and began to drink. It reeked painfully flowers that poorly covered the burning in the back of his throat. It hurt. Everything hurt. How’d he get here? How’d he become such a mess? He was a stupid disgusting mess. Full of mistakes. Full of regrets. He sacrificed everything else to try and become a hero, only to have that last thing run away from him too. He only tried to do what’s right. He was supposed to be building a legend, becoming a hero worth remembering, worth loving.

It was all his fault.

“I wish there was someone else to do it,” he slurred, “I was I didn't have to do any of this. I wish there was someone else to try and be justice. I wish that there was someone out there to be fighting evil! I don’t want to be the one always trying to do what's right!”

He finished screaming and felt nothing, but embarrassment. “What am I doing? Yelling at nobody, but still... I’d give my heart and soul for that.”

Mao Mao lied down on the couch, barely able to stomach alcohol, and stomach himself even less. Eventually, he blacked out.

* * *

Badgerclops sat in Camille's tower. Adorabat was sleeping in his lap. He wanted to be sleeping too, but worry kept him awake.

Mao Mao laid on a bed in the center of the room. IV-tubes went in and out of his arms and he was wearing an oxygen mask. Camille and Honey worked quickly, concocting potion after potion, doing something magical. He’d be impressed if he wasn’t so tired. He needed sleep. Worry was the only thing keeping him awake. He watched Mao Mao for any signs of movement, any signs of life.

When Mao Mao opened his eyes, Badgerclops jumped to his feet, startling Adorabat awake.

“Are you alright,” he asked, realizing the answer to that was a pretty obvious no.

“Where- Where am I,” he asked, stumbling through every word.

“Camille's tower, man. We came back. You weren’t breathing. Adorabat was really scared.”

“Oh...I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just… why? What were you thinking?”

“I was just… thinking it’d be nice to be loved, for once.”

“I love you, Mao Mao.”

Mao Mao stopped and looked at Adorabat. He stopped to process what she said before sniffling. He tried to blink the tears out of his eyes, but it didn’t work. He threw his arm around Adorabat, tears falling down his face. “Thank you,” he said, over and over again. He had never seen Mao Mao cry before. It was a steady, light, and quiet stream. Badgerclops joined the group hug, scooping them up in his arms. It was a warm and soft hug that all three of them were slow to break.

------

AN: While angst is fun, its time to delve into lighter tones as we enter the next arc. How long will the happiness last? ...well I can't spoil that now can I? Next Chapters Tile: What I Missed Be sure to leave a Kudos if you enjoyed, feedback is always appreciated and bookmark to stay updated with the series.

#fanfic #Missingarm!AU #This chapter is kind of sad #I enjoyed it though #Mao Mao #Badgerclops #Adorabat #Jingti #Tanya Keys #TanyaMao #CW: depsression #CW: alcoholism

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barebonesblonde · 4 years

Text

Don’t Say You Love Me (Falling For A Psycho Girl)

So if you read the last post, you know i’m just dragging myself by the teeth and unkempt nails out of the dumpster fire that is my so-called “heart”;

I.e., yet another relationship bit the dust. The first one in 4 years. It was new, but i fell hard, because he was different and not an abusive fuck, was super-sweet, and had the brain-cooties too (not like mine, but still), so i could relate to him on a deeper level than most. But turns out, he’s already into someone else, if his FaceBook memes are any indication (which they almost certainly are), which makes me feel incredibly stupid and naive that i didn’t see it coming. He was probably talking to this girl romantically before things ended with us. Which puts things in a whole new light.

That light being — i am, and i reiterate, incredibly stupid and naive.

Which brings me to the next bit.

The very next day after things imploded in my face with this guy, a friend – a male friend – talked to me for three hours on the phone to cheer me up, make me feel better about my stupid little heart; and after we hung up, he messages me to confess to me that he’s in love with me.

Here’s the thing. It’s not that I don’t “love” this guy friend. In as much as I can feel love for him or anybody else. That sort of thing is reserved for a very small pool of people, and I’m not very good at it. Ask anyone who knows me, and they’ll tell you. I will disappear off the face of the earth for weeks at a time, and expect you to be ok with that. I have a hard time being emotionally available for most people.

My capacity for being In Love with a capital “L” is severely limited, and probably not defined in the way most people think of the word. I’ve experienced real, actual, true Being In Love probably twice in my life. Where it hit me hard, and i was both viscerally and emotionally affected by it, and wanted to put that person’s needs before my own and all that sort of thing, where i felt that gut-wrenching emotion when it ended for whatever reason. Where i felt emotions that had to do with THEM, and not just ME. Not just the selfishness of “romantic love”, which mostly has to do with how that person makes you feel, and less to do with the actual person. But when I did feel it, I felt it all the way. And crawling out of it is certainly no easy feat. In fact, I still love my first True Love — but he died many years ago, so there’s not much I can do about that.

I’ve certainly developed feelings, even felt love for a couple people I’ve dated — which evolved into true friendships, which I consider to be a type of love that’s different from being In Love, though still very worthy and much more likely to occur in a person’s life multiple times. Those instances of love are the people that i still speak to, despite whatever pain it cost to get us here, because we still actually had a real connection after the romantic bit ended. (The guy in the photo being one of those).

Of course, the question is, was it genuine Love ™ i felt for the Guy I Fell For if it wasn’t actually reciprocated? If he’s already moved on to someone else, then clearly it was one-sided on my part since i still have feelings, and he clearly does not.

I don’t know. The thing is, I can’t transfer my feelings from one person to the other so quickly. Or at all. Because for me, I rarely feel them to begin with.

Oh, in the past i’ve felt serious infatuation. When i was younger and unmedicated, i was capable of obsessive infatuation. Of course that ended when that person’s flaws came to the light, or they disappointed me. I see this one’s flaws quite clearly and still have the feelings. I hate it, but there it is. Maybe that’s the problem. For him, it was just infatuation.

Part of the problem of being a Psycho bitch — like, literally, I have ASPD (Anti-Social Personality Disorder, my secondary diagnosis, and it’s not severe, but it’s significant enough to be problematic. This is the first time I’ve talked about it, because the stigma surrounding it is so fucked up) — is that it’s not easy for me to connect with other people. Not in any genuine way. It’s considered to be, in my and many cases, the result of certain childhood experiences. It’s a fairly common reason for this fairly uncommon disorder. A protection that the brain constructs as a result of physical and psychological trauma. I recognize it, and i try to work on it. It’s not easy.

Here’s where the Mental Illness Education Bit comes in, folks. Because yeah, we’re doing that now. ASPD is a relatively new diagnosis – or rather, TERM for a diagnosis (in general, and also for Yours Truly), and it’s often interchanged with Sociopathy, which is often interchanged with Psychopathy. It’s not a Mental Illness, per se, but a Personality Disorder. Which might be wrong, for me, since it’s co-morbid with Schizoaffective Disorder which has some symptoms in common, and they gave me my ASPD diagnosis several years ago for what they thought previously was Bipolar – which is fairly obviously not my problem. I don’t have mood swings, per se, but i do have impulsivity, and lack of empathy, and other things that jive with the ASPD diagnosis. Apparently, my being slightly Sociopathic makes more sense. Honestly, i sometimes think they just liked slapping the label on a woman because it’s so rare.

On the other hand, it does kind of fit, if i’m going to be honest. I’m very good at the whole social mask thing. And i don’t feel things normally – haven’t ever, really.

I’ve never murdered anyone (yet), but i will certainly admit to having a lack of conscience or empathy where many things are concerned. Or, perhaps just a lack of emotion in general. My psychiatrists say it’s due to severe PTSD and trauma. As is true for many people with the disorder, as i mentioned.

The misapprehension people have, however, is that people with the disorder NEVER connect, or are incapable of it. This isn’t true. When we do connect, it’s definitely genuine and deep. We just don’t do it with many people at all. Mainly this is because we’re basically self-centered and pretty selfish. And not very “nice”. We have to work at it. We aren’t “empaths” or any of that new age crap. We don’t connect with the outside world very easily, or well. We can be manipulative. And in some cases, fairly narcissistic. Definitely overly-logical when being emotionally sympathetic is clearly called for.

But every once in a while, i really connect with somebody. And when that happens, it’s really not easy to let go. But when i finally decide it’s time that i do, it’s like that person never existed. It’s very black and white. Again, a protective thing my brain does, i suppose.

And God knows what I did to fuck things up with The Guy I Fell For, because that’s just it — i will do things out of my inability to be empathetic sometimes. Or patient. People will tell me that I’m sweet and kind, but really I admire those qualities in others, and try very hard to emulate them. I think I have those qualities in me sometimes, but I have to work at them. The very few people I do love bring them out in me. But even so, I fuck it up. Often. I didn’t have anything to model it after growing up, you see. So my version of compassion and normal love and affection looks rather like Helen Keller’s version of trying to describe the color blue, I rather suspect, sometimes.

But, i digress.

So, this friend – we’ll call him The Limey (because oddly enough, he’s also living way the fuck in another country) confesses his love for me, and i realize off the bat that my emotional response is all wrong. The wheels in my head are turning in all the wrong directions. It’s a welcome distraction, and an ego boost, and i latch onto it like a drowning woman for about a day. In some ways, he’s a perfect match for me. We’re good friends. He’s single, a talented musician, whipsmart, witty, kind of an asshole in all the right ways; he’s willing to come right out and tell me how he feels. He’s incredibly attractive, and sexy as Hell. He wants me to leave the damn country with him, for fuck’s sake. All the things i so desperately want. And, yes, i do like him, a lot.

But do i Love ™ him? No. Which comes into stark relief when he pisses me off by being a jerk to one of my friends – someone i do love (not romantically, but definitely love) and my first reaction is FUCK this Limey. I don’t even give him the benefit of the doubt.

My emotions are so shut down at this point that i can’t even conceive of giving the Limey a chance. Him, or anyone else for that matter. Because i’m done. I’m done connecting with people for a good while. I have the very few people in my little Universe of Discourse, and that’s all i need.

Clearly, the point here is that i’m damaged, but i’ve always been. I don’t think it means i need “help”, and i certainly am not asking for sympathy. I’m perfectly aware that i am fucked up. In fact, on one level, i’m happy to know that i’m still capable of falling for someone, as misguided as it may have been, and as hurt as i am from the way it all ended. It shows me that i do, in fact, still have a soul. That i’m capable of actually feeling something real, as opposed to my usual screwing around with abusive men — which is not love, but some weird head game i put myself through out of some need to torture myself.

Soooo, this post digressed wildly.

The point IS, i was flattered and moved by this friend’s declaration of love for about 48 hours before he pulled some crap that made me want to beat him over the head with a tire iron, and then i responded in my usual unsympathetic and offhand fashion because that is my default.

I’m fairly convinced at this point that i should just avoid romance altogether. I’m obviously bad at it, i pick the absolute wrong person nearly every single time, and then wonder why i’m miserable. Then i spend the next 3-4 years perfectly happy all by myself, which is just long enough to forget how miserable relationships make me. Rinse, repeat.

Plus there’s that whole thing where i have to explain that i’ve got the Brain Cooties…or Brain Worms (thanks, Jay, for that new term), which is never a fun conversation; like, “No, dear, i’m not going to knife you in your sleep, and no, i don’t hear voices telling me to roast your spleen with a nice Chianti. At least, not usually. NO, BABE. THAT WAS A JOKE…”

I just…i can’t.

If i end up like one of those old ladies with her cats living with her female roommate in the boondocks collecting furballs and molding them into puppets and selling them on Etsy, then so be it. Right now, it seems like the sane choice.

*photo of me and The Samurai – dear friend and fellow artist

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neonredglow · 5 years

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Stop defending the women who are literally agreeing to do that on their own free will (except maybe Perrie but she still acted shitty) while those boys had no choice due to contracts. Calling out other women for being shit people is not misogynistic. And like that blogger asked, i will ask too. What did Liam get out of the stunt with Cheryl?

wow you’ve seen taylor swift’s contract with her old team/label that she signed when she was 15 which was recently revealed to have been pretty shitty and controlling but since you’ve seen it you know it actually wasn’t controlling at all? fuck you’ve seen all the contracts that all of them have signed from danielle to cheryl to eleanor to selena?? and therefore you know that these old bigoted men let them have so much more freedom and control compared to the poor boys in one direction??? incredible send these contracts to me immediately.

and i’ve never said calling women out for shit behavior is misogynistic. the only thing i called misogynistic in my original post was the music industry itself, which i 100% stand by. but you know what is lowkey misogynistic? calling out only women for shit behavior.

as for chiam... well for starters money and fame and everything along those lines is not nearly worth the emotional trauma and psychological harm both liam and cheryl have faced as a result of their closeting. it’s not worth the stress of having to always remember certain lies they have to tell. it’s not worth the pain this fake relationship causes their partners (and the pain their partners’ fake relationships causes them). fuck why else would liam have agoraphobia mayhaps it’s because everytime he goes outside he has to be prepared to be asked about bear or cheryl and that no doubt is exhausting and stressful.

and another thing, i think one thing we all forget sometimes (myself included) is that the shit the tabloids say about our faves doesn’t always come from tptb. sometimes tabloids just talk shit cause that’s the kind of stuff people who read tabloids like to read. that doesn’t mean whatever new shit they’re saying is the “official narrative.” sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t.

what’s always the official narrative tho is what liam says directly in his posts on social media and in his interviews. and that stuff paints liam in a very positive light. when you ignore the tabloids and just look at that, you’d see the “official narrative” is that liam is a mature-yet-fun, loving dad and partner. that’s not a bad image to have at all. ofc those of us who follow him particularly closely are able to pick up on the lies and contradictions and things that don’t make sense. but to a casual fan who only watches a couple of interviews? liam seems to be a great guy. and honestly this image definitely makes him appeal more to a more adult/mature demographic than the 1d days which expands his fanbase which absolutely benefits him. i was reading through some youtube comments on liam videos the other day and i saw so many (with hundreds of likes) saying how they loved his relationship with bear and how he’s clearly such a great, loving dad.

annnnnnnd ofc that image shift could have also happened had zayn and liam been allowed to come out (as i still think they want to) but the music industry is also homophobic

aNd AnOtHeR tHiNg, what did cheryl get out of it? sure she got more publicity. but she got dragged by the gp and the 1d fandom for the age difference, reportedly embarrassed by some of the things liam said about her, got painted as a shit partner by some of the other things liam said about her, & got no support from the vast majority of liam’s fanbase after the relationship ended cause even the hets now recognize how shitty she (supposedly) was to liam during their “relationship.” and to top it off, discussion of her music is overshadowed by discussion of bear/liam in the media. if this stunt was meant to give her music more exposure, it didn’t work. again, i think the primary purpose was to closet both cheryl and liam (and give cheryl an easy non-suspicious way to have a child)

#entertainment industry #fauxmances #closeting #asks #anon #chiam was fake #babygate 2.0

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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 6 years

Text

Wicked, Part II-Chuck Bass Imagine

Requested: Yes

Warnings: underage drinking, long

“Y/N!”

I nearly jumped out of my skin and snapped my attention to Serena. She was staring at me expectantly and seemed the slightest bit concerned. We were standing in the courtyard at school, other Constance and St. Jude’s students were millling about around us. The cool breeze that slipped past also brought my attention back to Earth as I tightened my Ralph Lauren wool scarf tighter around my neck.

“Sorry, what did you say?” I asked.

“I wanted to know if you knew what the benefit tonight was for. Blair says it’s for the elephants, but I think it’s for the poor kids in the third world,” Serena said.

I blinked and racked my mind for a moment. The Schaeffers were partnering with some big charity foundation for a benefit that night and everyone in the Upper East Side was invited. However, so many charity benefits were an excuse for people to throw money not just to help a cause, but to prove that they had the ability to throw money. Of course, my parents and I were going since Mother couldn’t only be a social butterfly, but also a philanthropist.

“I thought it was for the whales,” I replied.

Serena sighed. “It probably is, you’re better at remembering these things than I am.”

“Yes, maybe.” I turned slightly and spotted Jenny moving across the courtyard at record speed with a bright pink bakery box in her hands. Her blue eyes were wide but focused, a look that could have only been caused by Blair. My stomach clenched when I thought of the look of her face when she saw Chuck and me at his party last weekend. She probably had no idea what to do with this information, but as far as I could tell, she hadn’t told anyone. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Okay,” Serena said, sounding unsure.

I followed Jenny out of the courtyard and down one of the semi-crowded hallways. “Jenny, wait up!”

Jenny paused, turned to me, and relaxed when she saw me, but her shoulders were slightly tense. She couldn’t think that I was as threatening as Blair, Serena, or even Chuck?

“I’m sorry, I really should be going, Blair wants these danishes ASAP,” Jenny said.

“You can take a minute or two to talk to me, can’t you?” I made my eyes as innocent and kind as possible. “I’ll even go with you to give Blair her pastries to lessen the blow, okay?”

Jenny glanced at her watch and breathed. “Okay.”

I smiled and pulled her aside. “About last weekend, I wanted to let you know that I was drunk and maybe even a little stoned when what happened, happened, and I appreciate you not telling anyone or putting up a blast on Gossip Girl.”

“I’m not that kind of girl, Y/N. As far as anyone knows, I didn’t see anything,” she said with a soft smile.

“Great.” I had to fight letting out the biggest sigh of relief of my life. Jenny could have easily parlayed the situation to work in her favor, but she hadn’t. I’d told Blair that people from Brooklyn weren’t completely awaful.

We started walking in the direction of Blair’s locker, I practically floated since I’d gotten so much off my chest and out of my head. Nothing could bring me back down to Earth.

When we got close to Blair’s locker, I nearly froze in place. Not only was she surrounded by her usual minions, but Chuck was talking to her. It had been days since I’d spoken to him and I had managed to avoid him at school. I couldn’t even begin to think about what I would say to him or how I would act around him. Part of me hoped that he thought I was incredibly intoxicated that night and the other part of me hoped that he blacked out and forgot that night even happened. However, when he looked over and saw Jenny and me, I knew that he had not forgotten one little thing.

Crap.

“Jenny, what took you so long?” Blair asked as she snatched the box out of Jenny’s hands.

“She was talking to me, it was my fault if anything, Blair,” I said.

Blair didn’t relax at all. “Well, you have to speak to her on your own time.” She handed the box to Isabel.

“Noted.”

“Y/N,” Chuck said.

“Hi, Chuck.”

The way he looked at me sent shivers up and down my spine. After Jenny caught us, I’d chased after her to try and talk to her, but Isabel caught her before I could and Blair dragged me into a conversation about colleges. We hadn’t spoken after that, not that Chuck did not try to, but I couldn’t talk about it.

“Nice shoes, Y/N, Ferragamo?” Kati asked.

I blinked my gaze away from Chuck and glanced at the black suede over-the-knee boots I wore. “Yes, good eye, Kati.” I slipped my bag higher up on my shoulder. “I should get to class.”

“I’ll walk you,” Chuck said.

I wanted to tell him no, but he was already guiding me away. “I’ll see you all tonight?” I called over my shoulder. Then, I turned to Chuck. “What do you want, Chuck?”

“To talk. You’ve been avoiding me.” “No, I haven’t.”

“You didn’t respond to my texts.” “My phone was dead.”

“We both know that’s a lie.”

I hesitated, a little ashamed of myself for trying to lie to Chuck. He was the father of lies, after all. “We can’t do this here, I’m not going to do this here.”

Chuck pulled me aside, glanced at a pair of Constance sophomores who were staring at us as they past, and looked at me. “You knew that this was going to happen sooner or later. What happened the other night----”

“I shouldn’t have done it,” I blurted out. “I was stupid, drunk, emotional, and I thought I knew what I wanted, but I didn’t.”

“Stop it,” Chuck hissed.

I shook my head. “It’s the truth, Chuck. We shouldn’t have kissed. I feel sick when I think about it because I know I hid it from my friends.”

“We don’t have to hide----we can tell people.”

“You don’t really want to be with me, Chuck.”

“I meant everything I said that night.” “You were drunk.”

“Not really.” He stared at me intently. “I know that you want to be with me as much as I want to be with you----I just don’t understand why you’re lying to yourself.” “I have to go.” I brushed past Chuck and headed to class, tears burning at my eyes as I thought of exactly why I was pushing the boy of my dreams away. And I knew exactly why: I didn’t want to lose my best friends.

That evening, everyone in the Upper East Side was packed into the ballroom of the Waldorf Astoria. Champagne and fine hors d’ouevres were being served by waiters and waitresses in crisp black and white uniforms. All the guests were wearing sharp black Armani tuxedos or structured Dolce & Gabbana gowns. Mother dragged Father and I for the usual rounds before I finally got to break away and join Serena. She looked fabulous in her silk and chiffon pink spaghetti strap Juan Carlos Obando gown. Her blonde hair was slicked back into a high ponytail and diamond studs shimmered in her ears.

“You look amazing, S,” I said as I hugged her. “Dan’s missing out.”

“He had this work thing to do, it’s fine,” Serena said. “But you look great too.”

“I should after three hours of getting ready,” I teased.

I was wearing a black velvet Ulla Johnson gown with strappy Jimmy Choos. My hair was wound up in a ballerina bun that gave me a little bit of a headache, but pain was beauty.

“Blair looks like she’s on cloud nine with Nate,” Serena said, gesturing to the couple as they danced to the band playing “Beyond the Sea”.

“She always looks like that when she’s with Nate, even when they’re fighting.” I snatched a flute of champagne off of a passing waiter’s tray and began sipping.

“They are adorable,” Serena mused. “But you’ll get your time.”

I sniffed. “Yeah, sure.”

Little did she know that I had already lost my time, it seemed like. Plus, it didn’t help that Chuck was flirting with a beautiful girl with long dark hair and olive-toned skin. She looked like a model of some sort, but it would have hurt to see him with any other girl.

How could I have been so stupid? He doesn’t feel anything for me, he was just playing me.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Serena asked.

“Nothing, I...I just need some air. I’ll be back,” I said, squeezing her hand in reassurance.

The ballroom suddenly became too crowded as I weaved my way through the crowd of rich, finely-dressed people. Finally, I got out into the lobby and still couldn’t really breathe. It felt like someone had ran a knife through my chest and I was gasping for breath. Then, I felt the tears coming on and shook my head.

This couldn’t be happening, I was not crying over a boy. I had to get out of the hallway, no one could see me like this. I managed to make my way over to the women’s restroom to calm myself down. I took little sips of champagne and tried to even my breathing.

“It’s fine, you’re fine, Y/N, you’re fine,” I muttered to myself.

Why couldn’t I get the picture of Chuck smirking with that model out of my head? Why did it hurt so much to think about them? I couldn’t possibly love him, could I? No, he had to be the worst person to possibly fall in love with.

“I just had to do it,” I muttered again.

I loved Chuck, but was too afraid of what my friends would think to admit it outloud. Did he know how I felt? If he did, why would he rub his model friend in my face? Why would he play games? Everyone knew how much I hated playing games.

I took a few more minutes to calm myself down before walking back outside. Unfortunately, I could still hear my heart thumping in my ears and felt my stomach twist into knots.

Love really can make people sick.

I wandered back into the ballroom, glaring at everyone who dared to smile at their escorts and partners. It was childish, but I couldn’t help myself. I snatched another flute of champagne from a passing waiter and began sipping it as calmly as I could.

“There you are!” Blair exclaimed as she dragged Nate towards me. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Here I am,” I said with a shrug.

“You look nice, Y/N,” Nate said.

“Thanks.”

“Can you believe Chuck has the audacity to bring that prostitute into a nice event like this? I shouldn’t be surprised by him anymore,” Blair said.

“She is a model.” When Blair glared at him, Nate quickly added, “He told me about her earlier today. Met her at some party or bar or something.”

“Whoever she is, she doesn’t have any class, but I don’t know if Bass has standards anymore.”

“Blair.”

“Who’s to say that he doesn’t?” I argued. “Maybe that girl is the next Alessandra Ambrosio or Adriana Lima. Maybe he didn’t like his options in the Upper East Side.”

“Whatever, he’s nice to have at parties, but no self-respecting girl would date him,” Blair said.

Nate remained mum about his friend, suggesting that he agreed with his girlfriend. I, on the other hand, was boiling on the inside. As angry and upset as I was, I couldn’t help but defend Chuck.

“Perhaps they would if they got to know him.”

“Enough about Chuck, we need to talk about Yale.”

��Blair----”

“My father has a fantastic house in New Haven we could go to on the weekends and I even have a few leads on eligible Skull n Bones members.”

“Blair, I am not interested in dating a member of a secret society nor your father’s New Haven house. I am so sorry that we, for maybe the third time in our lives, have different ambitions. Is it so terrible that I want to go to another state for school?”

Blair hesitated. “We had plans. We were both going to go to Yale, marry Yale men, and---”

“And move back to New York and raise our kids on Park, right? That may be what you want, but it isn’t what I want.”

“Well, what do you want?” She asked in a semi-curious, but mostly indignant way.

At that precise moment, Chuck decided to approach our group with the gorgeous girl on his arm. “I don’t believe any of you got the chance to meet my friend, Natalia.”

“No, we haven’t.” Blair smiled tightly. “I’m Blair and this is Nate, my boyfriend.”

“Hi, Natalia,” Nate said.

“Y/N,” I said.

She smiled, revealing a perfect gap between her two front teeth. “It is nice to meet all of you.”

“Do you mind if I borrow Chuck for a moment?” I asked.

“It is fine with me.”

Chuck smirked at me as we walked away from the group. “What burning thing could you possibly have to talk to me about?”

I whirled on him. “How sick of a person are you? You tell me you want to be with me one second and then in the next, you taunt me with a model. You may like to play games, but I don’t, Chuck.”

“Unless my memory is mistaken, you’re the one that didn’t want to tell anyone what happened, so why does it matter to you if I bring a model to a gala?”

“It’s ‘who’ and it matters because I want to be with you!” I hissed.

There was something so cathartic about finally admitting my feelings for him. All the pressure floated from my shoulders, so much so that I nearly fell forward. But Chuck grabbed me by my shoulders and kissed me. The kiss was so much sweeter than the first time, sweeter than I imagined Chuck could be.

In that moment, I didn’t care what anyone thought. All that mattered was I finally got the guy who I always wanted.

#gossip girl imagine #requested #chuck bass imagine

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supergirlmelbenoist · 6 years

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SUPERGIRL MELISSA BENOIST IS OUT OF THIS WORLD

She sits alone in a bistro in West Hollywood, discreetly staring at a few other busy tables. Maybe someone says she respectfully does not look like Supergirl now? TV superhero, Supergirl, wears a cheerleader style skirt, a miraculously elastic fabric top, and often lipstick; Benoist, who will make 30 years this year, presents in a differentiated way, light makeup in a modest blouse and jeans - next doctorate in style. Just a few days ago, she finished recording the third season of the much-loved and youthful series that has been home to The CW since it changed in the second season of CBS's premier series series.

An apology is given for being a bit late because of Uber. But Benoist, putting aside her pencil, is gracious: "I came here alone."

It is a phrase that could have come from his character Kara Zor-El, describing his rival on our planet. For the duration of the Superfamily myths back to the invention of Superman comics in 1934 - and finally, his cousin Supergirl in 1959 - the clan exhibits various powers that, with interference from green and red Kryptonite, are used to ensure the truth, justice, and American way.

"If someone throws something at me, we have to cheat and pretend I got it, because I can not get it!"

The pilot episode of the 2015 series features Kara at the age of 13 being cast catastrophically from her home exploding on the planet Krypton and being raised in an obscure peace as Kara Danvers. Adulthood brings her to National City where she adopts her growing identity as superhero Kara Zor-El- the closest move to an old TV school, a loyal superhero who was Lynda Carter in the '70s in Wonder Woman.

Not that Supergirl / Kara is the first character of Benoist to make a significant transformation. Prior to joining Supergirl, Benoist starred in 2012 to 2014 as a new face, a specialist in singing and dancing as Marley Rose on Glee. Both series (Glee ended in 2015) showed the semblance of a young, charming and highly attractive (including villains); Benoist easily occupied each of her roles, filling in similar bows as she arrived as a naive one that gradually surprised the audience by showing that she can handle difficult tasks with resourcefulness and moral certainty stays. With Supergirl maturing as a heroine - and herself as an actress - Benoist transformed an initially naive and uncertain Kara into an incredible destructor-powerful, who not only expanded her superpowers but also became somber, a dark person in the character disillusioned with her career and the romantic difficulties that pulled her through deep waters.

The plot may be of obscure thoughts, but Benoist also has to swim upstream in her acting, given what she describes as an attribute to the Spock way embodied by the natives of Krypton. "What I find most interesting about interpreting Kryptonians," she says, "is that they are so absolutely clean. Whether it's Clark Kent or Kara Danvers, they're so all-American that sometimes you want their morale to tear yourself up a bit, for them to have a dilemma. "

For physical empowerment and athleticism, Supergirl shows while dragging thieves often around the wreck.

During the sets of the series, Benoist quickly argues. "Oh! I still can not get a ball to save my life, "she says, laughing. "On the set, if someone throws something at me, we have to cheat and pretend I got it, because I can not get it!"

By the time, anyway, Los Angeles does not seem to be on fire, and it's time to order lunch. Benoist had not only accepted her restaurant partner's offer to split fries - "I do not know a single person who would not eat fries if they were on the table," she opines, "it increases saturated fat by adding bacon-wrapped dates to share . She also offers a fluffy crossword puzzle: "Monday is the easiest."

Our congratulatory toast is for new ventures, just this morning we came to announce that Benoist will make a two-month call on Broadway (during his TV break) as Carole King in Beautiful. Much of what goes on in the show is geared toward King's life in exceptional piano compositions, so Benoist's starring cut as Terpsicor as seen on Glee will be sporadic. But the time and camera lens that does not seem to be exhausted from having it repeated and sentimentally proves that it takes the audience into a proposal of lyrics or powers amid a pop anthem like "Wrecking Ball."

In another year of hiatus, maybe it was the role of a movie that attracted her. Out of the hands of the films she has made in the last decade, two specials emerge as being remarkably effective with the exception of their brevity. In Damien Chazelle's film in 2014, Whipash, she was cruelly left behind by the battery-obsessed character Miles Teller, and as the pain socializes with the challenge, she spits out exactly what viewers are asking, "Who ... is wrong with you?" When asked about this speech, after a brief pause, Benoist says, "That was triumphant for her. I saw it that way. "His best moment two years ago in Peter Berg's Patriots Day also occurs across a table, in an even fiercer, yet still almost whispering scene, such as Katherine Russell, the wife of the newly murdered in the Boston Marathon by terrorist Tamerlan Tsarnaev. Locked up by an iron fbi interrogator also in hijab, Russell is frankly and devoutly converted Muslim who may be an accomplice in the bombing, America's most hated woman at that moment, and possibly aware of the second pumper's whereabouts. Against the investigation, played by the formidable Khandi Alexander, Benoist's new widow is a figure with a lethal contemplation that reveals zero but total insult, "He will kiss me again when he sees me in the sky." Bonnist auditioned for Patriots Day as a of the victims. But when she was once again called to the cleverest and Russell's key role, she quickly accepted, taking inspiration from Oscar winner Jame Judi Dench for eight minutes on Shakespeare in Love: "She's the prime example." day-to-day access my emotions and brings them to the forefront. "Ben has played in the tabulareiro since he was a small child. Julie's daughter and Jim Benoist grew up in Littleton, Colorado, outside Denver, and moved to New York to attend Marymount Manhattan College. She lived on the cheap and saw a more somber reality. "I really feel - at the risk of being extremely serious - like I found myself in New York," she says. "Just because you're not happy does not mean you're not inspired, fulfilled or stimulated." After playing a role as a schoolgirl in Aaron Woodley's Tennessee film in 2008, she told an interviewer on the red carpet at the premiere of Tribeca Film Festival, "I was screaming a lot and I was very happy." She graduated in 2011 with a Bachelor of Arts degree in theater and arts and some stage roles for her credit, but soon auditioned for Glee - and the rest is a show business ascending step by step. As a three-year-old Benoist says who had a natural curve because of the emotional state he had to fight, which the Glee staff ensured bravado. "Middle-aged kids are typically drama queens because they do not get a definite kind of attention from their parents," says Benoist. "They are not the first children and they are not the golden children, and they are not the babies so they are not spoiled. It's like we're in limbo. "Benenoist has used this energy for many roles, making" chipper "as a clerk confused by the maturing of rock star Al Pacino in 2015, Danny Collins, becoming a well-known hipster in Lowriders, the empathy she can find to express Waco's account of Rachel Koresh, the wife of worship leader David Koresh. These days, Benoist is up with the challenge of being number one on Supergirl's daily call sheet, but is to share the credits. David Harewood - which the character, Hank, has been severely authoritarian with her lately - definitely his creative engine. She mentions her character Othello (he played the unfortunate Moor of Shakespeare years ago) because "I think it encapsulates many things, because - first and foremost, I think David is a brilliant actor. He was the first black man in England to play Othello on stage at the Royal National Theater. "In a dramatically rigorous term, Supergirl has the benefit of a preparation in which Terran people and aliens take turns ahead, kindly complicated, both loving interest and friendship . Accessing Kara's love interest, Mon-El (Chris Wood), she finds Shakespeare relevant again: "They also have this thing that they were a passionate couple of two opposing houses because he was from Daxam- which I presume you could relate to Romeo, Julieta's Montenegrin - and she was a captive in Krypton. I think it's also different, because of the responsibilities they shared by having those abilities and powers. Another thing I admire that we explore is how a woman - a powerful woman - navigates between love and relationships. It is not always beautiful. "" It is a life experience - experiencing tragedies, which we all go through, through loving disillusionment and joy and fear and love, and open to all of this. "Bonist felt entitled to have influence on the statements of your character and responsibilities with the scripts you were given. "Yes, it passed through my hands," the actress says."But the fact that matters is, I have to get up and go do it. I have to feel right about this as a woman experiencing this. There are moments too, in which I thought, "I think that's what we're describing, and I do not think it's right for young girls to see that ..." - being about relationships or feeling empowered or how you treat other people . I have some power, for some reason, a margin to control what the conversation is. "Last season, we saw a reduction in Kara's interaction with her older sister, Alex, played by Chyler Leigh, but what goes on is an intimacy that is of brotherhood, on camera and out of it. "Chyler is very maternal, and she's very welcoming, and she cares enough about what she says on paper because she has daughters," Benoist says. "We all, especially the women in the series, feel very special about being a part of it, and every day we talk about what we're talking about to young girls and what we're teaching them. Sometimes we get it wrong, sometimes we feel really good about it and proud. So Chyler is like a partner in it. "Kara's birthright as a Krypton refugee are scanty factors, she adds, as she can continue her superheroic work to protect her foster family from the Terran planet with all her heart. "What's fascinating to me about it, and I hope we can explore a little more of it next season, it's nature versus education. Would her Kryptonian side push her to have the same values and the same consciousness and the same need to help people and save them, or would she be influenced and different in the way she tackles all this? "In early August, Benoist comes back for other long months of recording in the sounds and occasionally outdoor studios of Vancouver, British Columbia, a city she came to love- and back to immersing herself in the battles and successes of a life of twins like Kara Danvers and the growing the dominant person of Kara Zor-El. "My day-to-day life accesses my emotions and brings them to the forefront," she says. "While everyone in this country, for the most part, pushes them down. Especially when it comes to women's issues, because the conversation is very important now, which makes me very happy. "While giving the crossword open a fold and puts it in the bag - which occupies along with a collection of essays by David Foster Wallace - it adds up to how much work and life are welcome to socialize to go forward. "It is life experience-experiencing tragedies, which we all experience, such as loving disillusionment and joy and fear and love, and being open to all of it. And be ready to face what the world will play for you, because the world throws burnt balls at all of us. I understand things now, almost 30 years old, that I did not understand with 21- what is a Captain Obvious thing to say, but I love telling stories that are finite and that contains messages rooted and that you can find out by itself. Whether it's on stage, on TV, show, or on film, it's where I want to be "

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jordan202 · 7 years

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The Journey - Chapter Twenty

Previous chapters are HERE.

Thank you @jia911 for your incredible help!

Timeline for Part 20:

This chapters has only “unseen” scenes. It covers some ground of the two hour episode 11x22, in which they show the fallout of Derek’s death. There is so much ground to explore and I think it’s extremely relevant for Omelia’s story to know what exactly happened to them, individually and together, right after Derek died.

Author’s note: This chapter is rather long, I know I historically write long chapters but this one is longer than the average. Since you guys have pointed out many times that it’s not an issue, I went for it not to lose any of the content! I hope you all enjoy :)

The Journey – Part Twenty

The indistinct sound of conversations on the back distracted Owen as he put on a mask to cover his face while stepping into OR two.

“Do you know how much longer you’re going to be?”

His voice sounded serious and formal as he asked, but his eyes were warm and filled with concern as Owen looked at the young neurosurgeon who looked completely immersed in the work she was doing.

“I don’t know.” Amelia replied evasively, not bothering to look at him.

Owen took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to control his frustration with the situation. Three days before, they’d been hit with the shattering news that Derek had died. And ever since, he hadn’t seen Amelia leave the hospital as she kept on pretty much covering her shifts and her brother’s while overseeing the ER cases the entire time. The chief of surgery knew it was her way of avoiding dealing with what had happened but he supposed Amelia couldn’t carry on that rhythm for much longer. At some point, she would have to slow down, go home and actually face the devastating loss.

After a few seconds of hesitation, Owen finally opened his mouth to say what he’d gone there to say.

“You’re going to be late for the funeral.”

The trauma surgeon patiently waited for her reaction, supposing that the obvious mention of what had happened would somehow affect Amelia and get her out of that numb state she’d drowned in. But not even the direct reference to Derek really being gone seemed to affect the woman.

Amelia hoped with all her energy that Owen would simply go and leave her alone. She didn’t want to hear about her brother’s funeral. The thought of facing her mother, sisters and brothers in law, and seeing the look of grief and sympathy on their faces gave her a nauseating wave of contempt. It would simply be better for everyone if she could stay at the hospital, helping people who could actually benefit from her presence.

“Derek is already dead.” Amelia replied acidly. “He won’t mind if I am late.”

At the sound of her words, the entire surgical team brought up their eyes and the neurosurgeon noticed the alarmed look on their faces. Forcing a chuckle, she gazed at each one before finally focusing back on the field.

“Gee, I was only trying to light up the mood a bit.” Amelia nervously bit her lip behind the mask. The last thing she wanted was to have people gossiping about her and her reaction behind her back. So Amelia knew she had to tone down the jokes before people started talking about it. Forcing herself to look at the man who still stood a few feet away from her, looking obviously concerned, she decided to do what was expected of her to avoid being at the spotlight. “I won’t be long. I’ll be there as soon as I’m done here.”

“I’ll wait for you.” Owen said with a decisive tone, gazing at her with an expression that didn’t leave room for denial.

“There is no need to, I can simply…”

“I wasn’t asking.” Owen informed her with authority and before she could refute, he stepped out of the OR, going to the adjoined scrub room in which she could see his presence.

Amelia let out a heavy sigh of frustration once she realized what he was doing. From where he was standing, Owen could not only oversee her work and therefore pressure her to take exactly her time and not drag the procedure on purpose, he also made sure she knew she couldn’t escape so easily and make up an excuse to disappear.

One hour later, the neurosurgeon was fuming in frustration as she was pretty much forced to put on black clothes and be driven somewhere she really didn’t wish to be.

Amelia really didn’t care about funerals anymore. She’d been to so many that they simply didn’t affect her as much as they seemed to affect other people. In her opinion, they were a complete waste of time. But if she didn’t attend it, it would only raise questions and put more people on her back, so Amelia decided to cooperate.

As Owen drove through the streets, she remained determinate not to look at him. Amelia knew that by being her boss, Owen could at any point force her to step back from work and that was the last thing she wanted at that moment.

“You okay?” His voice sounded sweet and caring as he stopped at a red light. Amelia could feel his gaze on her back but she kept stubbornly gazing outside through her window. “How are you holding up?”

Owen waited for her reply but no words were spoken. He nodded his head in denial, trying to keep his patience. She was being more difficult than ever but he couldn’t judge. Amelia was probably going through one of the worst moments in her life and the whole acting out was her way of dealing with it.

“I am going to take that as you letting me know you’re too tired to even speak.” Owen said with a decisive tone, knowing he was disguising a threat. “I think it’s only wise if you cut back some OR hours and take some time to properly grieve your brother.”

Amelia immediately picked up on what he was saying and felt a wave of wrath taking over her body. Turning around impatiently, she looked at him with fury in her eyes.

“Look, you can make me come here but you can’t force me to talk, okay?” She informed him with an angry tone. “I don’t want to talk, especially not to you.” Amelia fired, being mean on purpose in the hopes he would be upset to the point of leaving her alone. “So back the hell off.”

Owen stared into her eyes and with all serenity in the world.

“Okay.”

The way he’d spoken the word, as if doubting everything she had just said drove Amelia mad with anger. Luckily for her, he was just parking the car in the cemetery, so she responded to his condescending manners by immediately jumping out of his truck and slamming the door behind her on purpose.

Owen knew she was hurting and the way she was trying to push him away by being nasty was so obvious that it was almost comedic. If the entire situation weren’t so devastatingly painful, maybe he would find it in his heart to smile. But that wasn’t the case. So he simply locked the car as if her tantrum hadn’t happened and acted normally as he easily caught up with her.

Amelia knew she shouldn’t be surprised when he stubbornly walked beside her, at a minimum distance. Owen looked very serious with his dark suit and tie and his properly shaved face. She felt and looked like a mess and it irritated her the fact that he was always so appropriate all the goddamn time.

Swallowing the mean words she wanted to say, Amelia forced her chin up and slowly identified the familiar faces that agglomerated around the gravesite. A man in dark clothes who had probably never even exchanged two words with her brother was giving a big, emotional speech and Amelia hated every single person she saw at that moment.

She hated their tears, their mundane and cliché responses, the way they would quietly whisper in each other’s ears and say empty words of comfort that felt more like a rehearsed speech than anything genuine at all.

Some of those people were the same ones who’d antagonized Derek at the hospital several times before and yet they all stood there, acting like they had any right to grieve his death. Her lips pulled back in a thin line as Amelia scanned around her, meeting her mother’s gaze across the yard.

The neurosurgeon quickly looked away and her reaction didn’t go unnoticed to Owen. He stared at her, studying her expression, noticing how almost bored she looked with her arms crossed in front of her body, exhaling heavily every ten seconds.

“Amelia,” Owen whispered, reaching out for her. He spotted her mother and three women standing behind her who looked so much like the neurosurgeon and Derek that Owen was sure could only be the duo’s other siblings. “Your entire family is there, maybe you should go be with them?” He proposed, gently placing his open palm on the small of her back.

Amelia took a step to the side, rejecting his touch. After folding her arms in clear defiance to the entire thing, she twitched her nose and scoffed with pretend indifference.

“Look, your ex-wife is there too.” She rolled her eyes with impatience. “Right over there with Meredith. Why don’t you go be with them?” The neurosurgeon repeated his words on purpose.

Owen knew she was trying to make him lose his head in the hopes he’d leave her alone but he refused to cave. Minutes went by when they stayed immersed in silence, with only the words of the spokesman at a distance.

“This whole thing is a circus…”

Owen turned his head to the side, surprised at the nearly inaudible words Amelia had whispered. When she realized she had his attention, Amelia continued:

“Isn’t it incredibly ironic that my mom, my sisters and I weren’t allowed to say goodbye to my brother when we could have and yet now we’re expected to be here?” She asked with a shadow of pain, anger and hurt in her sarcastic tone. Owen noticed how tightened her eyes were as she discreetly sneered, directly gazing at Meredith. “I was only at a phone call distance but I was robbed from the possibility of saying goodbye.” Amelia declared with wrath. “But now I have to do it. Because today is the day someone else set this whole thing allowing me to do it.” She paused, drowning in controlled anger, resenting the facts she was exposing. “I couldn’t do it before. It wasn’t convenient for her. But now I have to. Because someone else decided for me that this is how I should grieve my brother.”

Owen noticed her eyes staring at her sister in law as she slowly spoke the words, clearly containing the fury in them for the sake of not making a scene. It was then that Owen realized how angry Amelia was feeling, and with every right to. It made sense now where all that anger and even some rebelliousness were coming from. It really wasn’t fair the way things had been handled, and how Meredith had acted like she was the only one entitled to deciding anything about Derek. Especially when she’d been with him long enough to know how close he felt to his family and how they would have liked to participate in the process once it became clear decisions had to be made about his health status.

Derek had died from a brain injury and his own sister who was a neurosurgeon and lived at a few minutes away had only been informed after he’d been hooked out of the machines. Nothing about that was fair.

He was just thinking of what to say to comfort her when Amelia’s voice broke the silence, again in a whisper.

“You know, she robbed me of the choice to say goodbye to him while he was still alive and now I am being forced to do it when he’s dead.” Amelia finally turned her head in Owen’s direction and looked deeply into his eyes. “And I wish I hadn’t come.”

“You don’t really mean that.” Owen whispered back gently. “You’d look back to this moment in a few months or years and you’d regret not coming.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” Amelia affirmed with conviction. She paused momentarily before explaining herself. “Goodbyes are just not my thing, Owen…” Amelia nodded her head in denial almost imperceptibly. “You know, I’ve come to find out that it’s actually easier this way.” She added and Owen noticed the expressionless movement of her silver blue eyes. “It’s what happens in real life. Goodbyes are for movies,” she added with contempt, “because in real life, people die or leave or get killed… You wake up one morning and the people you loved simply aren’t there anymore.” As she spoke the words, Owen saw through her seemingly unaffected ways and wondered how much exactly Amelia had gone through in her life already. She was still too young to have such a hard lived opinion on things and yet it was obvious in her speech she had been through enough to have created a thicker skin in order to survive. “That’s the way to go. Nice and easy.”

Owen remained in silence, processing the meaning of her words. He felt an addition of sympathy and urged to touch her, but he’d already seen what’d happened the last time he’d tried.

“Nothing about this is nice and easy.” He replied, in a firm but gentle tone. Amelia couldn’t keep acting like her brother’s death was no big deal because at some point, it would all catch up with her and he knew it.

“Yeah.” Amelia finally agreed with him. “For most people I guess it isn’t.” She suggestively looked around, pretty much implying that she agreed with him when it came to others but not to herself.

Owen took a deep breath and realized that once again he was out of words. Opting to remain in silence and show his support by simply being there, the trauma surgeon put his hands in his pants pockets and heard the rest of the speech about Derek, trying to process the fact that his friend was gone for good.

Right after the funeral, a service was held in Meredith’s house and from a distance, Owen kept his eyes on Amelia, noticing the way her mother and sisters talked amongst themselves, at times including her in the conversation. All the while, the neurosurgeon seemed determinate not to cooperate with the dialogue, looking every bit as if she really didn’t want to be there. A lot of people were taking the opportunity to talk about Derek and share stories about him, but Owen couldn’t focus enough to have a two minute conversation, so he settled for standing in a corner, holding a forgotten glass of whisky in his hand while he observed the room around him.

“Hey.”

Owen heard the familiar voice and turned his head, seeing a discreet grin on the face of his ex-wife.

“Hi,” He returned her halfhearted smile and raised his glass to his lips, taking a sip of the burning amber liquid in the hopes it would distract him from Amelia’s demeanor. “It’s good to see you made it in such short notice.” Owen commented, realizing by the look on her face that Cristina was doing well. “How have you been?”

“Good,” Cristina nodded and studied his expression. “You?”

Owen shrugged with indifference and looked away, spotting Meredith sitting alone on the living room couch.

“How is she doing?” He asked, concerned. His attention had been mostly on Amelia lately, so Owen didn’t really know much about how exactly Meredith was coping. And he didn’t feel at all guilty about it. Derek’s widow had Alex, Webber, Maggie and now even Cristina while his youngest sister had barely any support system. But regardless of that, no one’s wellbeing mattered to him more than Amelia’s at that moment.

“Exactly like that.” Cristina replied with a conformed face, studying her friend’s desolated expression from the same point of view as Owen.

“How long are you staying?” Owen asked without really paying much attention. Once again he brought the glass of whisky to his lips and took a sip to hide the fact that his gaze went back to Amelia as he noticed her worked up expression getting heavier by the second as her mother heatedly spoke to her, apparently insisting on something. Their voices were slowly raising amongst the crowd and the conversation had apparently become a discussion.

“A couple of days.” Cristina replied with her eyes still fixated on Meredith. “I’ll make sure she…”

The thoracic surgeon’s words were interrupted when, by one corner, Amelia’s voice shouted out loud at the same time she pulled her hand from her mother’s grasp. Owen had been watching the scene from a distance, but as the young woman’s rampant words broke the sullen silence in the room, all eyes were suddenly on her.

The minute she felt the heavy gazes in her direction, Amelia quit talking. She kept on proudly staring at everyone, but Owen couldn’t be fooled. He knew her too well and could see she was mortified. As people slowly diverted their attention and went back to their private conversations, the murmurs in the room filled the air again.

“Excuse me,” Owen cleared his throat and placed his glass on the coffee table, leaning forward to give his ex-wife a chaste hug before looking into her eyes. “It was good seeing you.” He distractedly added before nodding his head, clearly ending the brief conversation.

Cristina went back to Meredith’s presence while he made his way across the room, catching up with Amelia before she could leave through the back door.

Owen noticed the way she was pacing back and forth, as if struggling to control her temper. Amelia looked livid, at some point even offended. After the scene he’d just witnessed, Owen knew it definitely had something to do with her family.

“What is it?” He asked leaning on the corridor wall, watching as she had a hard time staying still.

Amelia looked at him and the floor again, biting her lower lip. Owen noticed as she hesitated before finally deciding to talk.

“My mother is insisting that I go back to New York with her.” The neurosurgeon explained, apparently dreading the idea.

“What did she say?” Owen asked carefully, thinking back about how Amelia had shouted a loud no before pulling her hand from her mother’s just a few minutes before.

“She thinks I’m five years old and can’t take care of myself.” The neurosurgeon explained, rolling her eyes.

Owen pondered about the idea. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad suggestion, after all. In New York, he knew Amelia would have her mother and sisters close by, and he figured it was probably better for her to get through the loss all the while maintaining her sobriety if she had a strong support system. But at the same time, the idea to see her go devastated him because Owen knew that if she went, it was likely they’d never see each other again.

“What about your friends in Los Angeles?” He asked with interest. A few times before he’d heard Amelia talking about them and it had become clear how close to them she felt. Amelia had lived in the city once, she clearly felt comfortable there. And Los Angeles was much closer than New York.

“Addison called three times just this morning.” Amelia admitted with a broken voice. Derek’s ex-wife couldn’t make it to the funeral but she was checking up on her friend all the time, all the while insisting that the neurosurgeon considered moving back to LA.

But Amelia knew she couldn’t. It would feel like taking a step back in life and there was only one direction she would go: Forward.

“You know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, right?” Owen forced eye contact with her, watching as she sheepishly agreed with a head nod as her lower lip trembled. If Amelia decided to move, he wasn’t going to try to convince her otherwise, but if she chose to stay, he was going to make sure she had all the support she needed. “Whatever you decide to do.”

Amelia had been silently staring at her shoes, but the meaning of his words transformed some of her anger into humbling gratitude. Somehow, she managed to meet his eyes despite her resolve not to cry.

“Yeah…” Her voice sounded more hoarse than she had planned.

Amelia knew she’d just let her guard down and how exactly dangerous that could be. Seeing her mother and sisters had deeply messed with her because the young surgeon was once again reminded of how no one in that family took her seriously. Carolyn Shepherd kept trying to convince her daughter to go back home and move in with her while her three sisters nodded in agreement to their mother, looking at the youngest sibling as if she was a ticking bomb ready to explode at any minute.

“People don’t really know how to grieve in my family.” Amelia offered some insight. She chuckled with refusal when she realized how ironic her sentence sounded, considering she could be included in it. When her father had died years before, her family’s way of coping had mostly been ignoring the subject. Amelia wasn’t sure she could go back to New York and rebuild her life there having to look at her mom and sisters in the eye without being able to talk about Derek. “Besides, I can’t go.” She stiffed up her lip and look at him with renewed pride, once again wearing her mask of self-protection. “I signed a contract with you. I can’t just leave my job.”

“Amelia, if you want to go, I can…”

“I gave you my word, so I am going to keep it.” Amelia interrupted him, noticing Owen was about to offer her a way out. “I have patients, I have work to do. I can’t go.” She spoke decisively. “I don’t want to go.” She enforced, making sure the matter was settled.

“Okay, then.” Owen stared at her with sympathy in his eyes, nodding gently.

He wondered how things were going to be from there on, hoping with all his heart that this slight display of emotion would stimulate Amelia to open up and finally allow herself to feel what she needed to feel.

But as days followed, he realized how wrong he was.

Everything around him seemed to be falling apart and Owen had no idea how to keep things from crumbling. His surgical service was still running smoothly, but he felt his attendings unmotivated and restless. Everyone just seemed miserable and hopeless, and understandably so.

Amelia was still avoiding him at every chance she could. A few times at night, Owen had stayed up late at his trailer hoping she would return home so he could check up on her, but the neurosurgeon would often sleep at the hospital, even when she wasn’t on call. He wasn’t sure how exactly she and Meredith were managing at the house and with the kids until one day, a couple of weeks after the funeral, he was caught off guard with the news that Derek’s widow had taken the kids and left.

Soon enough, Owen joined Callie, Maggie and Alex at the house, watching as the three surgeons discussed what could possibly have happened to make Meredith decide to leave so randomly, but he was barely paying attention to the conversation. Instead, he had his eyes focused on Amelia and the look of boredom on her face as the other doctors expressed their concern.

Amelia distanced herself from the group, wondering why they even bothered to try to understand Meredith’s actions when Richard Webber approached her, kindly offering to take her to a meeting that day. Amelia was aware she had been neglecting that important part of her treatment lately but she supposed that while she kept busy with work, she wouldn’t have to worry about a relapse.

As everyone else got more worked up about Meredith’s sudden disappearance, Amelia distracted herself with a glass of water. Her sister in law had left a note affirming she was okay so Amelia wasn’t really worried. Not that the neurosurgeon felt a lot of things lately, anyway. It was more practical to stay on the sidelines and watch as everyone gave room to their concerns because the less involved she got, the better it was for her on the long run.

And there was also the fact Meredith had simply taken the kids and vanished without even bothering to tell Amelia first. They lived together and the neurosurgeon was there every day helping with the kids, getting them prepped to school and making sure they had someone to talk to about their dad in those dark days that followed his death. At five years old, Amelia had lost her dad too so she could relate to the situation completely, especially in regards to Zola. Back then, no one had explained anything to her, all the adults had simply ignored the fact and gone on as if nothing in the world had changed. Their decision had slowly made Amelia’s world crumble because as a kid, she’d never been able to figure out why her dad was there one day and then suddenly wasn’t. That had given her insecurity and then anxiety. And the last thing she wanted was for her niece and nephew to go through the same. So Amelia had made sure to let them talk about Derek and ask for him as much as they wanted in order for them to grieve their immense loss.

But now they too had been taken away for her too so Amelia wasn’t much inclined to worry about Meredith at that moment.

As he sat on the couch, Owen figured out he also wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation around him. Instead, he was trying to make sense of Amelia. The way she had physically distanced herself from the group perfectly exemplified her behavior in the past few weeks.

The unknown side of Amelia filled Owen’s heart with sadness and once again he felt powerless. The woman he’d fallen in love with was warm, affectionate and generally selfless. He could recall the many times Amelia had considerately put other people’s feelings above her own, even when she shouldn’t have to. He’d watched her and come to know her, so deep down Owen knew the way she was acting was just a bad response to the horrifying reality they were in. But it didn’t mean it hurt any less.

Her eyes that were usually overflowing with warmth and liveliness now would always look distant and cold. The previously caring words she would reserve for him had been replaced by a sullen silence that only increased the emptiness in which Amelia had put herself in. Owen watched as every day she drowned further in it, hating that he was so helpless when it came to pulling her back from there, despite his constant attempts.

All he’d been trying to do since Derek’s death was talk to her, but Amelia refused to make time for him. She ignored his calls, avoided his presence and only spoke to him about strictly professional subjects. Owen understood the pain she was in, but he was a person with feelings of his own too, and at some point, there would only be so much he could tolerate. Watching her repeatedly ignore him hurt on him too, because all he wished was to be there for her.

That evening, after Webber and Bailey left, it didn’t take long for Callie, Alex and Maggie to follow, leaving Owen alone in the house with Amelia for the first time in a long time.

He’d stayed behind on purpose, hoping for one last attempt at talking to her and actually succeeding at getting through to her somehow. This time, Amelia couldn’t turn her back on him with some lame work excuse or hide in a busy OR to pass her time. And judging by the way she was getting more restless by the second, it seemed like she’d just reached the same conclusion.

“It’s good to see you’ve finally come home.” Owen started the conversation, slowly getting up from the couch but keeping his distance. “I honestly have not been able to keep track of how many nights you’ve spent at the hospital lately.”

“Well, I am filling in for my brother.” Amelia defensively replied. “We’re one attending short in the department so it’s to be expected that as the one in charge I am taking his shifts.”

“Amelia,” Owen tried to be careful with his words. “You know you can hire someone. Or I can do it for you,” he suggested, supposing it would be hard for her to interview people who might take her brother’s position. “HR has already approved my request for a new attending.”

“It’s too soon.” The neurosurgeon turned her back on him and opened the fridge, aimlessly avoiding Owen’s gaze. “We can manage for now, don’t worry.”

Owen breathed out through his nose and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to come up with what to say.

“Have you been in contact with your mom?” He asked with worry, hoping that since she wasn’t talking to him, that she at least was leaning on her own family for comfort. After all, they’d just gone through the same loss and probably could relate a lot better to her predicament. “Your sisters, anyone?”

“I am okay, Owen.” Amelia grabbed an apple from the fridge and turned around with a decisive posture, hoping he would back off. Truth was, her mother, sisters and even Addison were calling several times a day. But Amelia mostly chose not to answer them. “And yes, I have been in touch with them.”

“Is your mom still insisting on having you move there?” He asked, trying to hide how interested in the answer he was.

“Yes.” Amelia replied with honesty, not giving any more details. Her mother would often call and insist her youngest daughter went there to spend at least some time with the family, but that was the last thing Amelia planned on doing. Over there, she knew her mom and sisters would constantly be on her back, pretty much in the same way Owen was right now. And Amelia simply couldn’t handle it at the moment. “You know, I don’t know how to say this, so I think I better just say it… I would really appreciate it if you could give me some space.” She added with a serious tone.

Owen swallowed hard, taking in another blow. That little dance they were doing was getting a bit exhausting and he couldn’t help but feel like he was at a serious risk to maybe join her in that numbing emptiness if he didn’t properly watch out for himself.

Work didn’t excite him anymore and the once comfortable atmosphere at the hospital had transformed into a painful experience during the daily hours Owen spent there. All he wanted was to feel useful and have some purpose in life. A few months before, he’d felt as lost and confused as he did today, but slowly he’d regained control of his life. In parallel to that, he’d met Amelia and she’d added a whole new meaning to his routine. During all the time he spent with her, Owen had felt energized, challenged and absolutely hopeful for better days.

But now, as he watched that fragile reality slowly slipping through his fingers, it was hard to maintain some kind of expectancy for a happy future. Especially when his past and present did nothing but fire a new blow day after day.

“Amelia, you know you can’t keep doing this for much longer.” Owen tried to be as gentle as possible when he warned her. Soon enough, she would drive herself to exhaustion and that could backfire. Amelia could potentially compromise patient care if she operated or made any medical decisions while working too many hours, or even reach a point when her mind wouldn’t take it anymore, falling at risk for a relapse. “At some point, you are going to have to deal with what happened.”

“Don’t… Really, Owen… Spare me of the talk. I told you I’m fine.” She shook her head in denial, rejecting his concern and Owen kept studying her, noticing her face transforming as her impatience turned into anger. “You know, I am sick and tired of everyone running around, talking to me like they know better, but guess what?” She took a step in his direction, so blinded by pain that she couldn’t see how much she was hurting him by speaking like that. “I’ve done this before, I don’t need your lectures or that cheap talk about how I need to deal with what happened.” She repeated his words with sarcasm, obviously turning down the idea. “I don’t have to stand here and listen to all this crap about how I should feel, or what I should do, or who I should call…” She fired, getting more worked up by the second. A lifetime of frustration caught up with her and Amelia couldn’t take it any longer. “No matter what I do, or how I pull myself back together, in the eyes of you people it’s never going to be enough anyway, so just cut the crap and save your precious little speech for someone who is actually interested in hearing it.”

As she spoke the words, Amelia once again turned her back on him, too angry to put up with his comprehensive face any longer. All her life, her family had judged her for the way she’d reacted to every situation. When her father had died, they made the decision of how she should deal with it, and chose to obliterate the event rather than talk about it. Later on, as things got progressively worse until Amelia finally resorted to taking drugs, they’d repeatedly made her feel weak and unworthy for it. Over the years, she’d finally come to master the Shepherd’s way of dealing with things by simply burying them and pretending they weren’t there. So she definitely wasn’t going to just stand in that room and hear all about how she was wrong this time around too. Because it felt like no matter what she did, to the people she loved, she was never going to be enough.

Taking it from her family was already hard enough. Hearing it from Owen, of all people, felt even worse. Because before he’d never tried to change anything about her or made her feel judged for being exactly who she was. And even though they weren’t together anymore, Amelia secretly hoped that in his eyes, what he thought about her wouldn’t change.

“Okay.” Owen replied with a serious tone. Amelia noticed his clenched jaw and the way his fist was slightly tense, giving away how hurt he must have been feeling at her angry outburst. But at that moment, all Amelia cared about was distancing herself from him because she knew that if Owen kept insisting, at some point his stubbornness would win her over and she was at serious risk for actually coming to rely on him again. “You clearly know where you stand.”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Owen finally decided to drop the matter and picked up his jacket with every intention to leave.

Amelia watched as his previously warm, worried look transformed into a scowl of indifference. He was just approaching the door when she felt compelled to add.

“I… I really appreciate it that you’re concerned about me.” The neurosurgeon spoke, hating that they were parting in bad terms.

“Yeah,” Owen replied with sarcasm, thinking of how she’d just reject his support seconds before. “But you don’t really need it, do you?”

“I really don’t.” Amelia answered, feeling her heart shattering in a thousand pieces. She put on her coldest look and heard how impersonal her voice sounded as she spoke the words. “Maybe I should for once listen to my mother and go back to New York.” Amelia said, more to defy him and make sure he moved on with his life to be free from her than because she really planned on going. The neurosurgeon put her chin up as she proudly added with a mask of indifference, “there is nothing for me here, anyway.”

Owen felt the weight of the words and gave her one last look of disapproval before disappearing into the night as he made his way to his trailer. Amelia had just given him reason to believe she really preferred he stayed out of her life in every possible way. And after that evening, that was exactly what he was going to do.

“I guess there really isn’t.”

That evening, Amelia sat on the windowsill of her room, pondering as a million thoughts ran through her head.

The sky outside was as dark and cloudy as her life at that moment. The lights inside Owen’s trailer were turned off and Amelia couldn’t help wondering if after that nightmare of a day, he had gone to bed already.

Little did she know that at that exact moment, Owen was running into a friend at the bar near the hospital where he’d gone to drink as many beers as it took to clear his head. And as Owen heard more about the humanitarian work the ex Ranger had been doing in the field with the US Army, the more interested he got into embarking on an entirely different perspective.

During the following days, the more Owen thought about it, the more the idea seduced him. Had his friend told him about this tour before, he wouldn’t even have considered it because of Amelia. But now, after she’d made it obvious she had no interest in having him in her life and had even said she planned to go back to New York, there really wasn’t any reason why he shouldn’t go.

Owen could use feeling helpful and needed. He was so busy trying to take care of everyone else around him that the trauma surgeon failed to see he was also grieving and reacting to it. And at that moment, saying yes to that opportunity felt like the only thing that could give him some purpose again.

In the course of a week, Owen reenlisted in the Army, this time signing up for a USAID team who coordinated both civilian and military personnel by taking medical services to areas where healthcare was precarious or unavailable. It didn’t take a lot of convincing for April Kepner to join him and things progressed so fast that Owen barely had any time to catch up with the pace of change.

Ever since Derek had died, board meetings were on hold, so it wasn’t hard for Owen to hand over his position to Richard Webber, who would be taking over as interim chief in his absence. On the day of his deployment, the trauma surgeon finished storing all his personal belongings inside the trailer while packing.

As Owen zipped his transport bag, he took one last look around, checking if he hadn’t missed anything. He was leaving a lot of memories behind and it was sad how at that moment it gave him more a sense of relief than actually nostalgia.

But as his eyes scanned the room, a small photograph inside his nightstand book caught his attention and Owen went back for it, safely placing it with the few items he was taking.

“You please sign here, and here,” A short, middle aged secretary instructed Owen as he finished filling in the paperwork that would officially release him of his contract with Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital for the following months. “Alright, that’s everything, you’re good to go.” The woman added with a smile, thinking how admirable it was that the chief of surgery was letting go of his prestigious position to join the Army for a noble cause.

“Thank you.” Owen replied with a discreet nod. Just as the woman was exiting the room, he cleared his throat in an attempt to catch her attention. “Could you please get Dr. Amelia Shepherd in here? I need her to look over some paperwork before I go.”

The woman happily obliged and Owen took a seat on his desk for what he knew would be the last time. At least for a while.

He had lied to the hospital employee. There really wasn’t any paperwork to be filled or signed on by Amelia. Maybe soon there would, when she resigned to go back home. Ever since the conversation in Derek’s house the night Meredith had disappeared, Owen hadn’t talked to her again and even though he’d decided to give her the space she had requested, it hurt to think that this was probably the last time he was ever going to see her.

In a few, Owen would be getting on an airplane to the Middle East, where he would stay for at least three months. By the time he was back, it was very likely Amelia had already left to New York and he simply couldn’t deal with the fact this really was goodbye.

For the following hour, Owen sat and waited. His heart felt constricted inside his chest as memories assaulted him. This was one of the hardest decisions he’d ever made, but after weeks of walking around in circles, he knew that the time had come for him to look after himself.

A knock on his door distracted his thoughts, and his heart skipped a beat when Owen’s expectation to see Amelia grew. But as Richard Webber walked in, a look of disappointment was visible on the trauma surgeon’s face.

“Sad to be leaving?” The older man asked with a sympathetic tone. Richard was going back to the office that had been his for many years, and even though he hadn’t planned to be chief ever again, he’d agreed to do it because Owen Hunt really deserved that break.

“Not really.” Owen looked around, exhaling slowly. It was almost time to go, but he was still hopeful Amelia would come upstairs before he had to leave. “Is everything good? Do you need anything?”

Just the day before, Owen had had a meeting with Richard to get the man up to speed on each department’s most latent topics. Since Webber was so experienced with the position, it didn’t take him more than a couple of hours to be all caught up with everything.

“Don’t worry about it.” Richard answered with a knowing smile. “Just leave everything that’s here in here, and focus on the work you’re about to be a part of. That’s all you have to do.” The oldest man advised with wisdom.

Owen nodded in agreement and checked his clock again. If he didn’t leave now, he was going to be late.

“Thank you for doing this, Richard.” He slowly got up from the chair, watching as the new chief did the same. Owen extended his hand and shook the guy’s with firm determination. “I really appreciate it.”

“No,” Richard kept his serene tone. “It’s me that has to be grateful. Thank you for your service.”

Owen nodded affirmatively and awkwardly looked away, gathering his bag on shoulder and his army combat cap in between his hands before turning around to leave.

“Hey, Richard… Hm… Can you do me a favor while I’m gone?” Owen bravely asked, facing the other man straight in the eyes. Seeing as he nodded affirmatively, the trauma surgeon asked, “will you keep an eye on Amelia for me?”

“Sure.” Richard smiled, not at all surprised with the request. “I’ll make sure she goes to meetings and take proper care of herself.”

“Thanks.” Owen grinned discreetly. “I appreciate you doing it… You know, at least until she leaves I think it would be good if she…”

Richard’s frown never got to be converted into a question as to where exactly Amelia was leaving to, because at that moment, Owen’s phone buzzed and he realized it was past time to go, so the army surgeon made his way outside the office without another word.

Just as Owen took the first corner, he spotted Amelia sitting in one of the radiology rooms, carefully studying an MRI exposed on the screen. He noticed the way her smart eyes examined each detail on the image and felt a sudden urge to go to her, drop his bag, close the door to that room and take her in his arms to never let go.

But Owen had already been reminded that this wasn’t a fairy tale where the story finished with a happy ending. This was very much real life, and he wasn’t going to steal the girl and win her back. He was going to a dangerous zone, where his presence was actually needed. And Amelia would move on with her life, hopefully finding a way to be happy on her own.

Maybe this was for the best, Owen thought as he adjusted the strap of his bag on his back and put on his cap. If he said goodbye to Amelia, it would only make it harder for him to go. And it was already hard enough.

With one last look, he tried to memorize every tiny bit of her face in his mind, before finally leaving for his newest mission.

Five minutes later, Amelia knocked on the door to the chief’s office.

“Oh, hi.” She frowned in confusion as she saw Richard Webber occupying Owen’s seat behind the desk. “I’m sorry, Chief Hunt requested me here a while ago but this MVC arrived in the ER and I was looking through his scans, so I…”

“It’s okay,” Richard took off his glasses and studied the young woman with a look of consternation on his face. “It wasn’t anything important. He already told me everything I needed to know. You can go back to work.”

“What… What do you…?” The neurosurgeon struggled with her words in obvious confusion. Why was Richard even there? “Did you have a meeting with him too?” She asked, looking from Richard to the door as if Owen would be entering it at any moment.

Webber looked at her, quickly picking up on the situation. In a fraction of a second, his face went from confused to compassionate.

“Oh my, you don’t know.”

Amelia noticed how the man affirmed and not really asked.

“Know what?” She looked to Richard and then to room around them, as if looking for answers. “What’s going on, Richard? Where is Owen?”

“Amelia, Owen isn’t here. He left.”

“What do you mean, he left?” Amelia forced a chuckle in response. “When is he coming back?” She tried to input a casual mood in her voice when in reality she was getting more alarmed by the second as she noticed Richard’s expression. “He just asked me to meet him here, I think he was…”

“I’m afraid I don’t know.” Richard looked the woman deeply in the eyes and felt awful to be the one giving the news. “Amelia, I am sorry he didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?” She asked a little aggressively, too scared and anxious by Richard’s compassionate expression.

But then the man’s entire face became impartial and Amelia recognized the look. It was the same professional look of a doctor who was far too used to telling people things they didn’t want to hear. And even though in Richard’s face Amelia saw the bad news coming, never had she imagined how it would feel like a stab in the heart when she finally heard the words.

“Owen rejoined the army, Amelia. I am sorry. I don’t know when he is coming back.”

And even after feeling the impact of the news tearing her apart and destroying every bit of life Amelia still had left, she struggled to keep her composure. After saying thanks to Richard for the information, Amelia got up, feeling as emotionally numbed as when she’d nearly overdosed back in the day.

The neurosurgeon had to gather all the will power to make it through the rest of the afternoon. She thought about the way she’d treated Owen the last time they’d been together and unsuccessfully tried to quit thinking about the many what ifs that now ran through her mind.

What if she had gathered the courage to let him in? What if she hadn’t treated him in such a horrible way the last time they’d met? What if she had bothered to ask how he was feeling too?

Maybe then Owen wouldn’t have joined the army again. Maybe he wouldn’t have left. Maybe his life wouldn’t be at risk.

And maybe right now Amelia wouldn’t have to be asking herself, what if Owen never came back at all?

—

Is this how you guys imagined this would go? Next up we will explore what happened to both Owen and Amelia while he was deployed and she was all alone in Seattle. :)

#omelia #thejourney #thejourneyfanfiction #owen hunt #amelia shepherd #greysanatomy #greys anatomy fanfiction #omeliafics #omeliafanfics #omeliafanfiction #omeliafic #omelia fics #amenff

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imaginesofeverykind · 7 years

Text

Unbreakable || Sam Drake x Reader || College AU

Characters: Sam Drake x Fem!Reader //College AU// Ft Harry Flynn & Chloe Frazer

Fandom: Uncharted

Request: Yas! So I decided to add three requests together because of the similarities between them so here they are! \1\ [ Could you do a sam Drake x reader where they have broke up and now they attend a party at Nate's but you know, same is with another girl and the the reader’s so jealous but in the end they get back together! Or if you want it could be tbe reader who is with someone else and Sam's jealous ! Or the both of them why not ! Hahah Enjoy] \2\ [Hi :D Okay so, I really like your writing and I was wondering if I could request a jealous Sammy fic but with all the fluff bc we all need more fluff in our lives (am I right?) Tysm you super cool person :D <3] \3\ [Sam Drake x reader where Sam and the reader used to be together but now the reader’s coming at the party with someone else but in fact, they still love eachother and will come to term]

Prompt: A month after a nasty break up between You and Sam, the both of you cross paths again at a party hosted by Nate and Elena -who always host the wildest parties- but this time both of you have brought dates.

Tags: @rafeadderall @missdictatorme @dragonjedihobbit @shararogers @solarsystemus @roses-are-bae

Word Count: 1,859

A/N: Yeah sorry I’ve been hella inactive but I literally just slammed through all these requests just for you guys bc bless I love you all so much! <3 Also yeah college AU seemed incredibly fitting given the atmosphere I was trying to create! Um yes, also Harry Flynn deadset looks/acts a bit like Sam, like obviously not but like the slicked back hair, flirty as fuck™ and has that nice deep voice. brb, I'm crying. also, Sam’s kinda a dick in this? soz

The music pounded loudly, you were almost certain it caused imminent damage to your ears and felt as though it liquefied your lungs as the bass heavy song rattled your chest. You gripped a hand in your own, turning back to face the very person you dragged along with you to one of the biggest and best college parties of the year.

He smirked at you, the scar over his lip glinted ever so slightly under the neon lights and his slicked back hair was always a reminder of who still had your heart. Oh, you wished the guy you yanked through the sea of people was Sam Drake, but unfortunately, it wasn’t him. But it was a friend of his, Harry Flynn, who had been more than happy to jump in and volunteer as a shoulder to cry on.

That was only given that he wanted to get into your pants, which in a way worked. Benefiting him to an extent, and managed to keep you preoccupied from the hole in your heart that Sam left after he broke things off with you. It was devastating for you, out of nowhere he all of a sudden ended things.

It was a messy breakup, names were said, things were said that you didn’t mean and he didn’t mean. You never truly figured out why he broke up with you, but you had a fairly good idea.

Just as the thought crosses your mind, there you saw him. A beer in one hand talking to his younger brother while the other hung loosely over a woman's shoulder. ‘That woman’ was Chloe Frazer to be exact. It had been a while since you saw him this close, and it pained you to see him enjoying himself because you certainly hadn’t enjoyed the last month single, even if you were screwing Harry on occasion.

No one made you smile like that tall idiot did, his goofy personality and dumb jokes always put a grin on your face even if you didn’t feel like smiling. The first week was the easiest you coped after he broke it off with you because it hadn’t fully registered with you just yet. The second week was a little harder, you moped, but at least Harry offered some emotional support -if you could call pity fucking emotional support-.

The third week so far was the hardest, your brain was raking at anything to justify his decision to break things off with you. You even tried blaming yourself, that maybe you were too clingy, too needy and annoying. But that was the catch. You did nothing wrong, you were a good girlfriend to him. Loyal, trustworthy and loving.

Sadly, the truth was that while you might have been those things to him he, unfortunately, wasn’t any of those to you. Sam was a good guy...at times... You saw that. You saw past his flaws and you saw how good he was on the inside and how kind he was to the people he cared about. Sam could never look past his own flaws.

Insecurity is what made him end it with you.

You, of course, don’t know that at the very moment you both lock eyes across the room full of dancing drunk frat boys and sorority girls. The thing about Sam was, he was good a reading people. Ridiculously good at reading people, and his heart ached when his eyes met yours. He could see the hurt in your eyes, the pain in your face. He even noticed the subtle frown on your face, the way the corners of your mouth turned downward.

Sam was aware of the mistake he made the moment you left him after he broke it off. You, however, rip your eyes away from his and meet Harry’s. Despite how incredibly dim he appeared Harry wasn’t a complete idiot, he noticed who you were looking at and smiled kindly at you, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“hey - forget about him, all right?” He smiled, cupping your face before bringing his lips to your own. You were incredibly taken aback by the gesture, in fact, it almost brought comfort to you.

From afar Sam noticed the exchange between you and Harry, instinctively he tightened his jaw and let a displeased sigh pass his lips. He mentally reminded himself that it was him who broke it off in the first place and he had no right to get jealous. Which is correct, he had no right at all. But the more he repeated it to himself the harder he found it to resist it.

It pissed him off seeing you with someone who wasn’t him. But he was an egotistical male who would much rather do something to rile you up and get you to come to him first since he wasn’t going to own up to his mistake. Completely ignoring his brother's story, Sam bent down and gripped Chloe’s waist, planting a desperate kiss on her lips.

Nate just rolled his eyes and went off elsewhere leaving Sam and Chloe to themselves. He was the first person to call his brother an idiot for letting go of the best thing in his life, that best thing was you. Nate of course, loved his brother and was great friends with Chloe but he was less than thrilled to know the little negotiation going on between the two.

Harry held you close to him in an embrace, his fingers gliding through your hair as he swayed to the beat of the music. You pulled away from his comforting embrace and see out of the corner of your eye Sam and Chloe. “I’ll get you a drink love... you need it.” You weren’t sure where this nice side of Harry was coming from, you didn’t think it was possible for him to have a nice side.

But alas, here he was about to get you a drink to calm your nerves. “Thanks... I’ll be outside.” You smiled, wanting to get some air as the room suddenly felt stuffy upon seeing Chloe and Sam. He nodded and the two of you separated, your legs walked you to the backyard where it was mostly occupied by the resident stoners of the frat house.

Not that you minded, they were always nice quiet people. The cool breeze was nice on your skin and the muffled beats of the music made it less suffocating than when you were inside. You wanted to be alone, whether you were going to cry or not was another thing.

Seating yourself on the end of the pool, letting your feet dangle underneath the water you sighed. You were always a happy person, so kind and loving and incredibly happy overall, but Sam managed to rip that from you and now it was hard to even get a smile out of you. Elena was supportive through most of it, trying to help you pick yourself up but it just simply wasn’t working. You appreciated her kind words and gestures.

Elena was another person to call Sam and idiot, she was more vocal about her disdain toward the older Drake brother for doing this to you and made it clear on multiple occasions that she no longer liked him. You were grateful to have Elena, which you did notice you hadn’t seen her since arriving.

You hadn’t realised the tears in your eyes until one fell from your head and hit the water, making it ripple ever so slightly. Harry had made his way over to you, a beer in both his hands and he seated himself beside you, “here you go love.” You thanked him and looked over at him, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I’m sorry Harry... you don’t deserve this, you deserve someone who isn’t me... I really appreciate that you helped me but you need to go off and find a hot girl who’s better suited for you.”

He couldn’t tear his gaze away from you, he wrapped an arm around your waist and smiled. “You’ll get over this eventually Y/N... maybe you’ll find someone else instead of that twat... I hope you realise we’re still friends, right?” You nodded a slight smile forming on your lips, “of course Harry... now go and have fun I know how much you love to party.”

Kissing your forehead he got up and left you to yourself. You didn’t mind the peace and quiet, especially when so many thoughts consumed your mind. On his way back inside Harry bumped into Sam, purposefully, shoving his shoulder hard into the older Drakes shoulder. He was alone this time, Chloe obviously elsewhere.

“Watch it, Drake,” Harry grunted, glaring at him. Sam rolled his eyes, returning a glare back to Harry. “Sorry I didn’t see you there little guy.” If there was one thing Harry hated that was when people commented on his height, that pissed him off. However, Sam was on a roll and continued, “how did it feel knowing you were screwing my left overs?”

“Great actually, knowing you weren’t getting them back anytime soon.” He retorted, folding his arms and eying Sam with a grimace. “Well that’s about to change, you stay away from her all right? She’s mine.” Sam attempted to be threatening, normally Harry would heed his words, but tonight he didn’t even flinch. He laughed dryly, “Oh! You think you can just go over to her and apologise and everything’s hunky dory, right? Well, good luck to you because you’ve fucked her over. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need more beer.”

Sam glared at Harry as he disappeared into the sea of people. His gaze moving from the sweating bodies over to you sitting still at the pool’s edge. Of course, part of him was urging him to talk to you but the other part of him was too proud to do so. He fucked up. He didn’t want the world to know that.

He caught a glimpse of the tears that rolled down your cheek, swallowing his pride and walking over to you. “Hey.” His tall figure stood beside you, his voice startled you, you hadn’t heard it in so long. If you opened your mouth you knew the sobs would start so you didn’t say anything, simply you shared a glance before returning your gaze to the water.

Sighing he sat beside you, he didn’t realise how hurt you were. He had a basic idea that you were hurt but not this badly, you were always so strong willed and hardly cried at most things but this showed him how much more devastated you were. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him and he sighed, “I’m sorry...”

Those were the words you needed to hear after all this time. That he was sorry, sorry for ending things badly, sorry for not being better to you, sorry for taking you for granted. He was sorry, and no matter how sincere he was your heart still ached. But, it was a step forward for you. A step forward for the both of you.

#U4 #Uncharted #Imagines #One Shot #Sam Drake #Request #Sam Drake x Reader #AU

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