#the way i really did give myself permission to go full self-indulgence here | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thee-morrigan · 2 years

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bromothymol is blue - violets are violet

*ahem* so uh, that supposed-to-be-short valentines-themed fic that was also supposed-to-be-posted-Monday (y'know, actually on valentine's day)?

yeah, she got absolutely out of control (peep that word count lmaoooo), but she is also finally done (!). It has been A Week and I have fully lost any sense of whether this is any good or needs ample editing or reads like a nyquil-induced fever dream so if you see anything especially wonky, no you don't <3 pairing: nate sewell x holland townsend (f!detective) rating: T wc: 6.8k (...how. h o w.) summary: "I don't celebrate Valentine's Day," and other outright lies Holland has told. [read on ao3]

It had taken some serious flexing of her puppy-eye muscles, but she’d managed to convince him to keep Valentine’s Day lowkey.

“Not nothing,” she’d couched, “just…quiet and intimate. We can avoid the crowds, the overpriced red blend…” Holland stepped closer to Nate, linking her fingers through his and smiling up at him hopefully. Guileless, sweet, earnest.

“Who said anything about red blend?” He laughed softly, arching a brow.

“Well, no one will call it that when they charge you eighty bucks a bottle without batting an eye. Doesn’t mean they didn’t get it from the nearest bodega.”

“Does Wayhaven even have bodegas?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged, undeterred. “I promise we’ll still have fun,” she continued, smile widening with a flash of teeth, eyes still on his.

Nate sighed and shook his head slightly, but he was still smiling when he leaned down to kiss her, lifting their joined hands between them to pull her a hairs-breadth closer, bridging the scant distance between them.

“You,” he said as he pulled back but not away, still grinning at her. “Are so…”

“Winsome?” She grinned back. “Charming? Adorable?”

“Incorrigible,” he countered, brushing her lips with his again before kissing each corner of her mouth. “Persistent. Taking advantage.”

“Taking advantage? Excuse you, sir, I will not have such accusations leveled against me in my own apartment,” she exclaimed, though the force of her mock sternness was somewhat diluted by her barely contained giggling.

She moved as if to pull her hands from his, but he pulled her to him again, disentangling their fingers only to dance his across her ribs with just enough pressure to tickle her, tightening his grip when she gave a squeal of protest and squirmed against him.

“Shameless advantage-taking,” he said against her skin, his face pressed to her neck, and she shivered at the scratch of stubble on sensitive skin, the rumble of his voice against her throat, laughing so hard the only sounds that escaped her were sharp, gasping little hiccups of choked laughter.

When she had caught her breath enough to get any words out, she wrinkled her nose at him, still half-laughing as she said, “I’m pretty sure you are the one taking shameless advantage right now,” wrapping her arms around his waist, chin resting against his sternum as she looked up at him.

He gave a hum of amusement. “Perhaps. Or perhaps it was the only power I had with which to retaliate since I continue to find myself incapable of saying ‘no’ to you.”

In the end, she’d agreed to let him cook her dinner if they could otherwise keep things more relaxed, and that had been that.

So to say Nathaniel Sewell was pleasantly intrigued to find a small envelope tucked beneath his pillow when he awoke that morning, addressed to him in Holland’s looping script, would have been an understatement. He was no longer especially surprised to wake and find her gone — despite his heightened senses, when he slept, he slept deeply. Holland, conversely, tended to wake before dawn most mornings and seemed physically incapable of staying in bed once her body had decided it was officially waking hours.

But she didn’t usually leave envelopes beneath his pillow. Notes, sometimes, particularly if he stayed over at hers and she’d gone on an early coffee run or needed to go to the office for something. But those were almost always on post-it notes, the backs of old receipts, or scrawled along the envelopes of unopened junk mail. Brief and informal little missives stuck to mirrors or door frames, folded scraps of notepaper tucked into his pockets. Though never so brief that they failed to bring a soft smile to his lips, a little warm fullness to his chest at the casual sign-offs bearing misshapen doodled hearts and some variation of ‘xo, H’.

But very rarely anything like this. He sat up and ran one hand through his sleep-tousled hair as he turned the small envelope over in the other. Inside was a blue card designed to look like a candy heart. Instead of the usual dubiously grammatical slogan often found on the candies, though, the text printed on the paper heart formed a question. No, not a question: a joke.

What did the stamp say to the envelope on Valentine’s Day?

Mouth curving into a soft smile, he opened the card to reveal the punchline:

I’m stuck on you.

His smile widened as he read the note Holland had written underneath.

I know I’ll see you tonight but - I might have a little something for you that I think you’ll want before our date. In honor of the Truly Terrible joke on this card, an office-themed clue: stop by the place where I get all my stamps and some of my envelopes for a pre-dinner surprise.

PS - Would you believe me if I said this was by far the least terrible joke/card I found? Who keeps telling card-writers they’re good at jokes??

It hadn’t taken Nate long to figure out that she meant the station. Partially because she hadn’t been particularly cryptic in the first place, and partially because he’d witnessed more than one argument with Adam on whether it was unforgivably unethical to use office supplies for personal reasons. (And, given the degree of stubbornness between them, he suspected the argument would eventually make another appearance. He also suspected that Felix and Mason were continuing to make a sport of the argument through a series of increasingly ridiculous wagers.)

And yet, apparently, he hadn’t been quite quick enough; when he arrived at the station, Holland was nowhere to be found.

“Oh, shoot, you just missed her actually,” Tina Poname drawled, crossing her ankles as she leaned against one of the desks near the entrance to the precinct, mouth twisted in a little moue of hot pink sympathy.

“Apparently a full-fledged detective is required to confirm the only one poisoning Mrs. Lanneham’s dog is, in fact, Mrs. Lanneham, assuming she has once again left chocolates on her coffee table.” She shook her head ruefully. “Every year.”

She shrugged, then straightened a bit, as if she’d only just that second remembered something. She snapped her fingers with a flash of nails seeming to be the exact same shade of fuchsia as her lipstick. “Oh, but actually, though, hang on a second --”

She turned to shift a handful of papers on the desk behind her, spinning back with a pale purple envelope wedged between two fingers.

She beamed up at Nate and extended the envelope with a flick of her wrist. “Almost forgot. She did ask me to give you this if you came by. I’d say sorry it’s coming from me instead of her, but honestly, I’m kind of sorry it’s not actually from me,” she winked, though her smile was purely friendly.

Nate returned the smile and thanked her for passing along the note. As he eyed the envelope, he said, “I suppose it would be fruitless to ask if you happen to know anything about this.”

“This? I mean, I’d just thought, you know, it’s gotta be a Valentine’s Day card, right? What else would it be?” She tilted her head to one side with a little furrow of her brow, although she couldn’t keep her polite smile from turning a shade mischievous.

“What else could it be,” he agreed. “Well, thank you again for this,” he said, tucking the envelope inside his jacket and turning to leave. One hand on the door, he turned back briefly to Tina. “Oh, and I hope Mrs. Lanneham’s dog is all right.”

“Hm?” Tina blinked, though she recovered remarkably quickly. “Oh, yes, mmhm, she’ll be fine.”

Nate only gave her a small, gameful smile before pushing the door open and ducking through it.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” She called to his retreating back, earning what sounded like a huff of laughter as the door swung shut behind him.

Tina waited until he was out of eyesight through the large windows lining the front of the building. Then another five minutes (or as close to it as she could stand to make herself, which turned out to be approximately four minutes and 42 seconds).

Then — finally — she bounced to the back of the station and the door that led into the stairwell. With perhaps a bit more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary, she slapped her palm against the crash bar. As the door swung open, she shouted down the stairs, “You can come out now!”, which earned a censorious look from an officer at one of the desks nearest her.

A fractured sentence carried Holland’s voice up the stairs from the lab. “— so many favors!”

Tina grinned, but her reply was interrupted by the muffled voice of Verda, whose tone seemed to indicate that shouting up the stairs when he was holding delicate instruments was perhaps not the way he wanted to liven up his weekdays.

Tina laughed, though her grin immediately turned sour at the loud, heavy sigh from Officer Grumpus next to her.

“Not a morning person?” She smiled sweetly at him.

“Just a working person,” the man responded, brows lifted as he stared pointedly at the folder open on his desk.

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Tina said, as if that should both explain and excuse anything she might do today.

“It’s a workplace.” His voice was an affronted stage whisper.

“Oh, it’s not a library, Dean,” Tina scoffed, moving back to her own desk. “Go grab a chocolate truffle outta the break room or something.”

“Just tell him to check his phone, please.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yes, Mom,” Holland sighed into the phone, the verbal eye-roll only a little affected. She really hadn’t wanted to involve Rebecca, but she was an unfortunately convenient messenger for sending Nate on a scavenger hunt. Even if that meant Holland had been required to voluntarily call her mother.

“I just said I’d drop by the warehouse later with something he left at my apartment, but it looks like I’m gonna be working late, so he’ll either have to come here or potentially wait until tomorrow to get his book back. Well, technically my book that he’s borrowing,” she paused for half a breath, as if distracted by her own rambling.

Normally, she would’ve been inclined to say less rather than let herself babble; even the actual truth tended to sound flimsy when it was tangled up in unnecessary elaborations. Now, though, Holland was banking on her mother taking the scatter-brained chatter as an opportunity to offer her help and thereby chip away at whatever maternal neglect penance she thought she owed the universe or whatever.

Nevermind that he’d had a key to her apartment for months, which he presumably would’ve used this morning since she left before he did, so even if he had left something at her apartment, he could get it himself whether she was there or not. It wasn’t like she jumped at the chance to give Rebecca even more information about her life and who was or was not included in it and to what extent. The whole situation was already so goddamn weird without adding any unnecessary heart-to-hearts with her mother.

“Whatever, listen, doesn’t matter — I was just wondering if you could pass along the message if you see him.”

If Rebecca felt any tremor of surprise — pleased or otherwise — from the sheer volume of information her daughter had just shared with her — as if it were nothing — as if it hadn’t been more words than she’d probably said in a row to her mother in the past month — she kept them from reaching her face.

Carefully. She had to approach this unexpected openness carefully. She couldn’t let herself read too much into this, take it as an indication of progress towards an actual relationship, some half-step forward from the strange, almost-truce they’d established as a byproduct of suddenly, abruptly, seeing so much of each other.

So she said, “Oh. Ah, yes, of course. I’ll let him know. Or, actually,” she paused as if the thought had only just occurred to her, “If you want, I had some errands to run in town this afternoon; I could stop by your office and deliver the book for you if it would be helpful.”

Holland’s mouth twitched: a slight, tentative upward curve that she let filter into her voice. “Oh, really? You don’t have to do that.”

Rebecca tried not to sound too eager. “Really, it’s no trouble. It sounds like you have a lot going on today. I insist: I can be at your office within the hour if that’s all right with your schedule.”

“Thanks again,” Holland said a little while later as she handed the “borrowed” book to her mother. She offered a wry half-grin. “You can tell him my carrier pigeon took PTO this week.”

Rebecca gave a soft laugh, as much out of surprise at the comment as amusement.

“I’m surprised you’re working late tonight,” she said, apparently taking Holland’s joke as an invitation for further conversation.

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you wait until the last minute to file things.” Holland shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

“Oh. Well, I just meant since it’s Valentine’s Day. I assumed you’d be…well, that you and Nate had plans.”

Was she prying? Did she seem like she was prying? Maybe she was. Why did she always seem to falter through even the most straightforward conversations with her daughter when she so easily navigated much more treacherous interactions with ease?

Holland’s almost smile faded. “I don’t really do Valentine’s Day. And, anyway, the city council definitely doesn’t. I’ve got half a dozen cases with filing deadlines on the fifteenth. So, you know. Mass-marketed declarations of love don’t really take priority.”

“Ah, right, of course. I can certainly understand.” Rebecca kept her sympathetic hum brief: the kind of noise that offered only polite acknowledgment of a circumstance, rather than the kind that might indicate, for instance, that the speaker was extremely curious to learn whether opposition to “mass-marketed declarations of love” implied that other sorts of such declarations had been made.

It took an annoying amount of willpower for Holland to bite back the instinctive retort. To remind her mother that she was very aware that Rebecca would understand better than most how often work could take priority over petty obligations like loved ones. Instead, she smiled, tight and polite, thanked her mother again for being kind enough to stop by and deliver the book, and excused herself, saying she supposed she should get back to work.

Well. At least that was over with and had gone arguably better than expected — they’d even managed something approaching amicable small talk. Twice, in fact, if you considered the pleasantly neutral phone call earlier. Moreover, she’d even managed to extricate herself from the conversation without her mother taking a moment to register exactly what book she was so eager to lend. Not that she didn’t have half a dozen reasonably plausible explanations ready if pressed; but the less she needed to justify lending Nate what was technically a chemistry textbook, the better.

Holland tried not to dwell on the fact that even in her own head these justifications sounded pathetically flimsy. She was pretty sure emotionally manipulating her mother (even if her mother sucked at being her mother) into essentially running an errand for her was not something a good person would do. Okay, maybe very sure. But she didn’t have time to calculate exactly how much today might have contributed to her quarterly ‘asshole daughter’ quota.

After all, she had a fictitious pile of paperwork to get back to.

As it happened, Rebecca did not actually deliver the book to Nate, but instead to Adam, who was the only one of her team she found when she stopped at the warehouse that afternoon. This was probably for the best: if Rebecca had been mildly surprised at Holland’s apparently immediate need to pass along a borrowed book (on PH indicators, of all things) today rather than at a later time, she would have been positively taken aback by Nate’s reaction to finding it on one of the end tables in the living room, his face awash in what looked for all the world like relief as he scanned the cover.

Adam might also have found the incongruous expression on his friend’s face somewhat puzzling, though it was hard to tell what specific emotion the sharp quirk of his brow was meant to convey, exactly. While he wasn’t remotely surprised to see Nate taken with a book in general, this one looked particularly unremarkable to him.

In fact, the only really noteworthy thing as far as Adam could see was that it did not look like the kind of book about which Nate would get especially excited; when he’d glanced at the title earlier, he’d wondered briefly why something called a handbook of acid-base indicators would be of any interest at all.

Or what, specifically, it might contain that caused Nate’s expression to shift from relief to outright amusement as he read the inside cover.

“It looked like there was a note with it as well,” he said, gesturing with a jerk of his chin toward the book now clasped in Nate’s hands. Indeed, a white letter envelope was half-tucked between the pages towards the back of the book.

“Which I’m forced to assume was misappropriated from the police department’s supply cabinet,” he continued, eyeing the patch of blue on the corner sticking out of the book.

“Very probably,” Nate said, sounding distracted, eyes still on the book as he flipped another page.

“Well, I’ll let you get on with…whatever this is,” he said. “Misuse of office supplies aside, I’m not even going to ask why you seem so interested in, ah --” He glanced at the book cover again. “A book on ‘acid-base indicators’.”

“I don’t know that I have enough information yet to explain it to you even if you wanted to know,” Nate looked up then, smiling at his old friend. “Thank you for passing the book along though.”

Adam made a noise of acknowledgment, face still somewhat dubious as he turned to exit the living room. The second Adam left, Nate pulled open the envelope. This one bore only a simple notecard, upon which was printed:

some roses are red,

bromothymol is blue

congrats: you’ve reached your final clue.

Handwritten beneath the poem, Holland had added:

(and congrats on the knowledge that you won’t have to read any more of these incredibly cheesy cards today - that’s the real win if you ask me.)

Just as in a lab, your next stop has a dress code (though this one’s intended to impress more than protect). See you soon!

Love, your highest-heels-wearing girlfriend (who is somehow still probably half a foot shorter than you)

Nate smiled to himself as he read, although it became more bemused than fond as it registered that there wasn’t actually a clue contained within the note, despite the rhyme’s claim.

He re-read the poem, then the lines written beneath it. Other than hints as to attire — which, from the very limited information contained in the note, didn’t seem to suggest he dress differently from how he’d originally planned — there wasn’t much beyond the “see you soon!”.

Maybe on the back? He flipped the card over. Four lines at the bottom of the card. Maybe —

PS - You totally thought I was going to make you break into a high school science lab with that last clue, didn’t you? I’m a law-abiding community member. And I don’t have time to waste getting you out of it if you got caught - I’ve got more important plans for this evening (as do you).

He couldn’t help exhaling a laugh as he read the additional note scrawled there, even if it offered no further hints as to what these “important plans” might be. He sighed, still smiling, and ran a hand over his hair. Then he looked down at his watch. Well. He still had time to make their original dinner plans.

He turned to retrieve the book from where he’d placed it on the arm of a nearby chair, a half-formed thought scratching at his brain. He flipped the cover open and looked at the stamped label on the first page there, re-reading the imprint that had amused him when he first read it.

That. That was the clue.

Still smiling, he shut the book again with a muted snap and headed out of the room.

Back at her apartment, Holland was pacing. Well, not pacing, exactly: she supposed what she was doing could more accurately be considered wandering, moving in aimless loops from room to room of her small apartment. The wooden floors were smooth and cool beneath her bare feet, though it did little to quell the burning knots of anxiety snaking in intricate loops behind her ribs.

Stupid. This was such an absurdly stupid idea. Ridiculous — and cheesy — and dumb. Why did she think concocting an elaborate goose chase through Wayhaven’s oddest pockets of her own idiosyncrasies for an entire day would be fun for anyone? And, oh Jesus, her clues had been terrible, hadn’t they? They probably hadn’t meant anything to anyone aside from herself. Meaning Nate had probably not figured them out and had either:

1. Given up and was currently wondering why she wasn’t home for the very specific date she’d agreed to. Meaning she was not only weirdly inflexible about a stupid excuse for a holiday that she could have just agreed to go out for because it didn’t actually matter, but she was also accidentally standing him up for a date at her own damned apartment; or,

2. was still attempting to figure out what possible meaning her cryptic notes held because he was clearly far kinder to her than she was to him (because if the situation had been reversed, she would have immediately assumed her notes were nothing more than an indication that her girlfriend was actually the Zodiac Killer)

The idea of either of these (incredibly, in her opinion) probable outcomes made her feel like she was having either acute indigestion or perhaps a mild heart attack.

She smoothed her hands against her sides, resisting the urge to tug at her dress, suddenly very aware of all the places where the fabric hugged her body.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she breathed, spinning to survey her reflection for the absolute last time in the heavy wrought iron mirror propped on the wall next to her front door. Aside from her face, which was currently set in a glower that she suspected looked more pouty six-year-old than threateningly unimpressed, she looked completely fine.

Actually, if she was being honest, she looked better than fine.

The dress was a muted grey-blue, shifting into occasional glints of dulled silver when folds of the loose fabric caught the light, reminding her of a winter river. The washed silk of the fabric contributed to this perception, the fall of it a gentle weight against her skin, the hem rippling smooth and cool against her shins when she moved.

As it had throughout her relentless pacing back and forth across her apartment this evening.

Ridiculous. She was being ridiculous. And this was just a dinner, for Christ’s sake. They’d had so many dinners. If this one happened to have included some amount of advanced planning and scheming on her part, then so be it. A dinner that required surreptitious machinations was nonetheless still fundamentally just a dinner.

She made a face at her reflection, then started at the knock on her door, the noise sparking a bubble of startled adrenaline that dissipated into a hiccup of laughter that was as much from a kind of relief as it was from surprise. Her eyes shifted to the clock on the coffee maker across the way on her kitchen counter. Right on time, as he always was.

Which either meant her clues had not been as completely asinine as she’d thought, or that he knew her well enough to make sense of her bread crumb trail. Either possibility was mildly gratifying (and she was under no obligation to consider whether one possibility perhaps pleased her more than the other).

Though her laugh had faded as abruptly as it had escaped her, her grin remained as she reached for the doorknob, gaze skimming upwards to meet that of the man waiting on the other side of her front door.

“Hi,” she said, stretching up onto her tiptoes for a kiss, palms pressed flat against Nate’s chest for balance. He readily leaned down to oblige her, one hand lifting to cup her face, the other coming to rest against the small of her back.

“Hi,” he replied when she rolled back onto the balls of her feet, returning her smile. She smoothed her hands down the front of his shirt before she moved to step back, then paused with a puzzled half-laugh as she realized belatedly that the hand resting against her spine was not, in fact, empty.

Nate pulled his arm back between them, holding a book out to her. “I believe this belongs to you.”

Holland’s grin widened as she took the proffered paperback. “I love that you bring me books instead of flowers,” she quipped, stepping back to let him in and setting the book on the small wooden bench next to her door.

“I don’t know that giving you your own books back to you counts,” he remarked, following her as she padded further into her living room.

“Besides,” he added, “You don’t like flowers.” His smile turned teasing as his gaze skated down the veritable garden inked onto her arms before returning to her face. “Somehow.”

“I love flowers,” she said sweetly, perching on an arm of the sofa and leaning forward a bit, tips of her fingers pressing into the fabric on either side of her hips. “That’s why I want them to live long lives where they’re planted instead of spending two days dying on my kitchen table. Books last longer.”

“Not with you they don’t.”

“Please, you read way faster than I do,” she scoffed, then held up a hand as he opened his mouth to respond. “I know, I know: you’ve had more time to practice. I’m just saying, it is achingly unfair that you get to be both the pretty one and the smart one in this relationship.”

Nate laughed aloud then, stepping closer to her and reaching to tip her face up with one warm brown hand, long fingers tangling in the hair at her nape. He rubbed his thumb along her bottom lip, a gentle tug at the half-formed pout. Still laughing softly, he bent to kiss her. Any lingering purse of dissatisfaction on her mouth softened as she opened for him, leaning into the warm, gentle caress of his lips against hers. She felt that delicious warmth spread as the kiss deepened, her hands lifting from the couch to snake beneath his suit jacket and around his waist as his free hand ghosted slowly up her thigh before coming to rest against her hip.

“The absolute injustice,” Holland murmured into the scant space between them when she finally pulled back, bumping her nose against his with a breath of a laugh.

“My love, we might have to agree to disagree on both counts,” Nate replied, thumbing gentle circles across her hip bone, the warmth of his hand seeping through the silk of her dress, which suddenly felt like a barrier both impossibly flimsy and yet impassable beneath that warm weight. “Particularly if we’re taking today into account. Bromothymol? Really?”

She didn’t need to see his face to know precisely which shade of teasing smile he was giving her, so she didn’t, choosing instead to press further against him, nestling her face against the column of his throat. He hadn’t worn a tie, choosing instead to leave the topmost buttons of his immaculate white shirt undone, and it seemed like an unacceptable waste not to take advantage of the tanned expanse of skin begging to be kissed.

“Bromothymol is blue,” she said into the hollow of his collarbone, lips curving into a satisfied smile at the noise he made in response, the way the hand on her hip tightened. “Violets are, overwhelmingly, violet.”

He made a breathy sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh, slowly tilting his head back down to look at her like it was simultaneously the hardest and easiest thing in the world: to pull any distance away from her — to look into her face.

“If I am meant to have an epithet in this relationship, I would argue I’m the lucky one,” he murmured, fingers stroking along the side of her neck.

“Sweet talker,” she chided gently, one corner of her mouth crooking upward in a fond grin. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

She raised one hand to cover the one he still had resting against her neck. “Except apparently out of my apartment.” She squeezed his hand gently then released it, rising from her sofa arm perch and moving to sidle past him. “And if we keep doing this I’m going to find it harder to remember we’ve got places to be.”

She turned to move further into the apartment, tossing a smile over one shoulder as she started down the hallway towards her bedroom. “As soon as I put on shoes.”

He followed her down the hall, leaning against her door frame as she disappeared behind the open door of her closet, hands sliding into his pockets. “What kinds of places have we got to be?”

“You’ll see,” she called from inside the closet.

“No more secret messages or clues, then?” Oh, he would probably be forever teasing her about today, even if he did sound intrigued by the apparent endpoint of this adventure.

“Nope,” she said with a little popping finality on the word, her voice light.

“I lied, by the way,” she said as she emerged from her closet, a jacket draped over her bare shoulders, balancing on one stilettoed foot while she wiggled her other foot into the remaining boot. “These aren’t my highest heels. Those would be impractical.”

“Impractical for what, exactly?” Nate asked, looking equal parts bemused and intrigued as he followed her back out into the hallway and out of her apartment.

“Impractical for how many flights of stairs I’m willing to climb in them,” she said with a half-smile.

He raised his brows in silent question as if to ask: Stairs to where?

But Holland only arched one back at him and said again, “You’ll see,” reaching to twine her fingers through his.

Nate followed Holland up four flights of stairs, the last of which was behind a smaller metal door on the uppermost landing, separated from the rest of the walk-up’s old stone staircases. At the top of this separate, narrower staircase lay another metal door, which Holland pushed open with the gentle scraping sound of resistance as if the door hadn’t been opened much recently. Hand still linked with his, she pulled them both out onto a garden terrace on the roof of the building.

Though Holland privately suspected the so-called green roof was more greenwashed marketing than anything — and a fine excuse to increase her rent — she couldn’t say she didn’t enjoy the space. Especially on evenings like this, when the air smelled like the promise of spring, and the chill of a February night had lost much of its bite in the wake of the mild weather they’d been having lately. There was a gentle breeze, but it was only just strong enough to send the perfume of the garden’s flowering wintersweet and viburnum rippling past every so often from where the blooms spilled out of the neat rows of wide-planked wooden planter boxes lining the outside walls of the rooftop’s main attraction.

At the roof’s center, occupying the lion’s share of space, stood a greenhouse, all glazed glass panes and dark metalwork framing. Though the entirety of the terrace was well-lit by the combined efforts of evenly spaced pathway lights, moonlight, and the surrounding trickle of the town’s light pollution, these paled in comparison to the twinkling spectacle of the glass building in their midst.

Although inside it would undoubtedly be diffuse and gentle as firelight, the soft white light of the hanging lamps inside the greenhouse shone in striking contrast to the surrounding night sky. Where the dark lines of the building’s frame formed arches and trellises, vining plants were interspersed with winding strands of fairy lights, glimmering and winking where their light caught the streaks of condensation along the glazed glass walls and roof.

Whatever outside chill might be present, whatever breeze might be amplified by the height of the roof, would be nonexistent within the warmth that beckoned inside that greenhouse, where Holland knew the air would be warm and sweet, redolent with the fragrant plants within.

And with the undoubtedly mouthwatering aromas from the menu she had barely had to ask Haley to help coordinate for this evening. Between her and Tina, she had some really, really good friends, she thought with a swell of gratitude before turning her mind back to the present moment.

She breathed in the sharp wintry air and twisted to watch Nate as he took in the scene. When he finally turned to look at her, dark eyes warm and bright, she grinned. “Tell me again how much I don’t like flowers?”

Nate laughed then, a rumble of sheer, rich delight that was a song in her veins as he pulled her to him and swept her up in a kiss before the laughter had fully died from his lips.

When he finally released her, he was no longer laughing, though his smile remained. “I’ll tell you how much I love you,” he offered, hands cradling her face as he studied the features, the person, that had become so impossibly precious to him. Marveled as he watched her face, cheeks already pink from the chill night air, flush with pleasure, the scant smattering of pale freckles that dusted her nose vanishing beneath the rosy glow, at the knowledge that he could so easily draw such reactions from her — that she could so affect him, too, perhaps more easily than she knew.

Nate often wondered if she really understood the true extent of her hold on him — if she registered the power she wielded with the slightest quirk of her brow or her mouth (her delightful, wicked mouth and the things she said with it, the things she did with it), curving into the wry grin that had come to seem so quintessentially Holland and, thus, so necessary to him.

That teasing smile curled at the corner of her mouth now as she looked up at him, green eyes gleaming in the low light. “A little off-topic, but nonetheless acceptable response,” she said, grin widening. “Now, c’mon. I believe I agreed to dinner as an acceptable Valentine’s compromise.” She covered his hands with her own, sliding them down from her face, then tilted her head towards the greenhouse.

“I don’t remember the dinner you agreed to remotely resembling this,” Nate remarked as they crossed the terrace.

Her heels clicked along the flagstone pavers lining the paths between rows of flowerbeds and the smattering of fruit trees the building’s owner had planted years ago. “Hey, I think this very much qualifies as ‘quiet and intimate’,” she pointed out. “I mean, I guess you could get more intimate, but you might lose out on some of the quiet then, so,” she gave a light laugh.

“Holland.” He tugged gently at her wrist as they entered the sweet-scented warmth of the greenhouse, struck once more at the obvious care and planning that she’d put into tonight, into celebrating a holiday towards which she had always seemed overwhelmingly ambivalent.

Because he cared about it.

Because what she cared about was him.

For him. All of this, for him. Even though he’d been absolutely fine with the idea of lowkey. Even if he would’ve been absolutely fine if they hadn’t done anything at all. Even though she knew he would have been perfectly willing to scrap the idea of Valentine’s Day, this year or in general, if she really thought it was a waste of time.

Because it wasn’t that significant to him. He liked it, sure, and he liked romantic gestures and the intentionality of dates that were meant to feel special, luxuries that carved out pockets of the extraordinary from the otherwise ordinary moments that made up a life with another person. But those moments could be pulled from any of the million tiny motions of ordinary love. It didn’t actually matter if they happened in observation of a particular holiday or not.

But because he did still like it — the celebrating, the romance, the little rituals of it — even if it wasn’t necessarily important, she treated it as if it was important.

Because what was important to her was him.

She paused and turned to look at him, head tilted in silent question.

“I —” he stopped, surprised to feel at a loss for words. He swallowed, then started again, settling on, “Thank you,” even though it didn’t feel completely adequate.

“No one has ever done anything like this for me,” Nate continued, voice soft. “Ever.” He felt the thrumming little jump in her pulse where his fingers still encircled her wrist, even as she immediately moved to dismiss it.

“I’m very confident this is not even in the top ten nicest dinners you’ve ever attended,” she said, though her smile felt a little stiffer than she’d intended. “Especially considering how many dinners might be in your sense of ‘ever’.”

He tightened his grip on her wrist, a gentle emphatic squeeze. “This is not just a dinner. And even if it were,” he pressed, as she opened her mouth to respond, “it would still be — by far — the best gift I have ever received.”

A lie. Or at least not the entire truth, he thought. The greatest gift wasn’t the dinner, or the planning, or the trail of offbeat bread crumbs that had led him right back to her door as if he’d needed that guidance. She — this willful, irreverent, unfailingly kind woman — was the real gift.

“A scavenger hunt that included an abandoned building and my mother is the best gift you’ve ever gotten? If you say so.” Another sharp cock of one brow, the curl of a smile meant to be teasing, but… her eyes were a little too bright and serious to carry the play at nonchalance with any conviction.

She wondered if it were possibly, improbably true — not that it hadn’t taken effort on her part, and more than a bit of planning, but still. It was meant to be a nice surprise, the kind of silly, romantic gesture that would mean something to him, something more than it might otherwise have to her, but…it wasn’t really that big a deal, was it?

And if it was, then…

When, in his long, immortal life, had he last felt cherished? And how much time had he spent ensuring that those he cared about did?

“I do say so,” he smiled at her. “So, thank you.”

And because she wasn’t sure what to do with the tightness in her chest (which could, after all, merely be the heart attack or indigestion she had suspected earlier in the evening), she said only, “Well…you’re welcome,” without any of her usual catalog of teasing or dismissive commentary.

Later, over the remains of a dessert so obscenely luscious that Holland had briefly considered asking Nate if he would be extremely bothered by her proposing to Haley if only so she could have it whenever she wanted (i.e., every day for the rest of forever), Nate asked, “So, should I be expecting any additional surprises or mysterious hints this evening?”

Holland lifted one shoulder, then glanced down at her bare forearms, having discarded her jacket earlier in the warmth of the heated greenhouse. “I think I’d need sleeves to have any further tricks stashed away.” Her smile would have been believably charming if not for the arch glint in her eyes, a shimmer of playful challenge that he’s not sure he could help answering, even if he wanted to.

“Something tells me you would be perfectly fine with or without sleeves,” he said, and though his voice was mild, the midnight-dark promise that sparked in his own eyes was decidedly, wonderfully not.

Holland arched a brow, reaching her fork across to spear a lone raspberry off his plate and pop it into her mouth, then said, her smile a wicked flash of teeth, “You’ll see.”

#did i mention i was Back On My Bullshit?#bc i am very back on it. pure clownery.#the way i really did give myself permission to go full self-indulgence here #love that for me #twc #the wayhaven chronicles #katie writes things #oc: holland townsend #ship: your entire heart

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os-hyoideum · 3 years

Text

Fake - Hawks/Takami Keigo x fem!Reader

Summary: Keigo wants to be there for his struggling love.

Word count: 3232

Content/Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst(ish), depressed feelings, mention of suicidal thoughts, self-indulgent, third-person perspective

a/n: I started writing it in March 🤡 but I felt like I couldn't abandon it, so here it is, finally! ngl kinda exposing myself here oop- idk if it's a comfort fic, but I hope you enjoy :)

During the late hours of the evening, the city below looked particularly beautiful. Colorful neon lights, emanating from dozens of advertisements and signs, illuminated the people who, without care, carried on with their evening tasks, be it a trip to a bar or the travel home from work.

Hawks stood on the roof of the building, looking down and just taking in the scenery. It was not a particularly special day, but the rain that poured earlier has left the ground wet and glistening. The lights, bouncing off the pavement and people, created a picture truly from under a hand of a masterful abstractionist. The pinks, the blues, the yellows, all the colors created the effect of a spilled paint from his point of view.

While admiring the city, Hawks’ phone vibrated in his pocket. Taking his eyes away, he took out the device and, when the screen lit up, was met with the face of his love.

It was his favorite picture in the whole world and he knew, deep down, that any professional photographer couldn’t capture anything better. Truthfully, it wasn’t really a masterpiece, just a simple selfie, but the memory connected to the photograph made it exceptional. He remembered the quiet moment (so little of them in his life) when he could take his partner away and just enjoy an ordinary day with her. A walk, a picnic, anything that made him forget about his everyday life. The smile he saw in the picture truly made him feel like the surroundings brightened a bit.

The message on his phone was simple, a request for him to come back to the office, probably to take care of the stack of papers that adorned his desk.

He put the device back into his pocket, took a last look at the city down below, and, after putting his goggles on, spread his scarlet wings to take off.

If he were being honest, he would say that, given the option, he would stay in the air, in the sky, far above the ground, forever. The wind, howling loudly in his ears, silenced the worries of his everyday life. The air flowing around his body, through every feather of his wings gave him a sense of freedom. In the sky, he was able to see the horizon and just let himself be carried.

There was just one thing missing among the clouds.

On his way back to real life, where he would need to take care of mundane work-related tasks, he took a little detour.

Maneuvering expertly over and around the buildings, he found himself in front of an ordinary apartment complex. The grey modern building had a few floors and, quickly locating the right window, Hawks flew over to where his partner’s apartment was. Some people looked at him, from the street or through their own windows, but they were used to his random visits and paid him no mind, for which he was grateful.

He stopped in place seeing the inside of his lover’s bedroom and peeked inside, as the blinds were open. Some crumpled clothes lying on the bed, along with a few books. Through the open door, he could see the light coming from the TV.

Normally, he would just knock on the glass for her to open the window, but suddenly he got a hunch that something was not right. Maybe it was the fact that her texts became drier as the day went by (just like the last few days) until they halted completely, or maybe the open blinds, usually closed soon after it got dark. Whatever the source of his uneasiness was, it made him fly down and go inside the building through the door. He climbed a few flights of stairs to get to the floor she lived on. The only sounds, keeping him company during his walk through the corridor, were faint voices from behind some of the doors and his own footsteps.

He reached his goal. The alertness in his mind only became stronger as he knocked and waited patiently for the door to open.

A few dreadful seconds later he heard the sound of the turning mechanism inside of the lock. Only for a split second was he able to see the cold numbness on the face of his love before she noticed who had visited her. Her expression changed immediately and she smiled, oh so brightly.

Moving and pulling the muscles in her face, she was always able to make Keigo’s days better. And she could do it in an instant too, and so well that others never noticed the difference between the fake and the real. But he had sharp eyes, trained from a young age to catch any irregularities around him. He noticed, every time, how she faked and he hated it, especially knowing that when he did the same, she always pushed just enough for him to give in and let her in, more and more every time. He would push a bit too, at least to let her know that, if she wanted to, she could tell him anything.

“Keigo!” she exclaimed, voice high in pitch to sound happier, “What are you doing here, baby?”

“I was on my way to the office and thought I could drop by for a moment… Can I get in?” He asked pointing to the inside of the apartment.

“Oh! Of course.” She opened the door wider. “I got back from work not long ago, so… I guess, it’s not that clean.” She added with a small laugh.

Keigo knew it was a lie. He knew when his partner worked; she finished three hours ago.

He entered her space and when he kneeled down to take off his boots, he caught the glimpse of her cheerful expression falling. Still in her work clothes, she looked like she would get crushed any second. He knew her mind could get heavy at times.

“Come here.” He outstretched his hand towards her and lightly pulled her into himself.

At first, she was slightly rigid in his arms, but relaxed a bit, feeling Keigo’s soft strokes along her back. She hid her face into the high collar of his jacket and he noticed how tightly she gripped the material with her fists.

“You should get changed… wear something comfortable.” He whispered to not disturb her too much.

“I’m so tired.” She mumbled, her face still hidden. He just held her for a little while longer, allowing her to let go of him first. When she finally straightened her back and looked at him, this time without a fake smile, he felt like his heart broke, for her. He lifted his hand and gently stroked her cheek.

Her face was virtually emotionless, but he noticed the tensed jaw. The eyes, that hypnotized him every time he gazed into them, were looking more into space than actually at him. Her spaced-out expression made it seem like she was sculpted in marble.

Keigo squeezed her arms lightly to ground her a bit into reality.

“Do you want me to help you?” He asked softly, giving her a way to back out, if she truly wanted to.

“I don’t need…” She looked down with hesitation. Being vulnerable was never easy, even with some of the closest people. Admitting the need or want for other’s presence was quite a feat. She sighed. “Yes.”

“Do you want to take a shower too? Or just change?” She saw not even a slight sliver of judgment in his eyes.

“I’ll take a shower.” She said quietly and took her arms away from Keigo’s. She turned around to go to the bathroom but stopped when he made a move behind her. “Alone, but… stay… please.”

He just nodded with understanding and watched her drag her feet to the other room. At first, nothing came out of there, but a few minutes later he could hear the water from the shower. Going into his partner’s bedroom, he looked briefly at the messy clothing laying on the bed, pushed them aside, and took the clothes he knew she used as pajamas and always put under the duvet.

After the water stopped running, he waited ten minutes before knocking on the door. After getting quiet permission to enter, he went in and saw her sitting on the toilet, wrapped in a towel, with her unseeing gaze focused on some point before her.

“Come on.” Keigo softly broke the silence in the bathroom and reached out to her with one, which she took. He pulled gently and, without saying anything more, gave her the clothes he was holding.

With no request for him to get out, he just stood in the doorway while she put on her sweatpants and T-shirt. It was strange for him to see her vulnerable because she always closed herself off in those moments. He knew it was important that she just let him be there.

“Do you feel… better?” He asked when she stood in front of the mirror slightly squinting at herself.

“Hmm…” she hummed, “Perhaps. Not any lighter, though.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He felt like he was going through a field full of land mines. His training made him an expert at obtaining information, but he did not want to use his, masterfully crafted by the Commission, manipulation skills on her. He hoped that he was enough to bring her any semblance of comfort.

She shrugged and, after pushing him slightly out of the door, moved out of the bedroom and sat down on the couch, empty staring at the TV playing some meaningless show. Keigo took a place next to her, his wings hanging behind the backrest.

For a second, he cursed his lack of experience with human emotions. Of course, he was trained to observe and he knew when something was not right, but since he was never allowed to get close to anyone, his skills turned to nothing in the face of his love slowly getting pulled into the darkness of her own mind, all while maintaining the smile he adored so much.

After a minute of silence between them, the girl took a pilot and turned the TV off. She looked at him, the quietness becoming almost unbearable, but quickly, she broke it with a question:

“Do you really want me to… talk?”

And he just nodded.

Unable to look into his worried, gold eyes, she lowered her gaze. Leaning slightly on her elbows, she stared at her hands, fidgeting with her fingers.

“Well… I haven’t been feeling… um, really good, lately. Mentally, I mean.”

“Yeah… I’ve noticed. Should’ve said something sooner.”

She turned to him and put one hand on his knee, which he gently covered with his own and started to stroke with his thumb.

“No.” She opposed, “I’m actually grateful that you took more of a, hmm, silent-observer approach. I had space… but still knew you were there, somewhere, for me.”

“Good thing then that I’m not completely useless here.” He tried to joke with a small smile that fell quickly.

“No, but I am.” Before he could protest she took his hand, the one he’s been stroking her with, into both of hers. “Kei, Keigo… I can tell you what’s going on up here-” she pointed at her head “-but it’s just, so hard. And you have so much of your own shit going on… I don’t want to worry and burden you with my... stupid mind.”

He sighed, brought his free hand to the back of her head, and put his forehead against hers.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, “I think I do…”

She closed her eyes, letting her sense of touch be the center of her attention. She focused on the weight his head put against her own, the way his messy hair brushed her face and his slow warm breath felt against her lips. It grounded her mind, silencing (if even for just a moment) the annoying white noise constantly present in there.

“I don’t want to look at you,” she started, “when I’m talking. It’s just… I don’t want to be seen, only heard.”

Keigo shifted his head and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

She turned away from him, putting her legs on the couch to sit cross-legged. It took a few moments before she started talking. Organizing the thoughts and feelings plaguing her was not easy.

“I… I just feel so bad. And I don’t even have a good reason for these stupid feelings,” she said, sounding slightly annoyed, “Why the fuck do I feel like this? I have a home, I have friends, I have… you. I have everything I could hope for and yet… I feel so bad, so… so numb. What the fuck is wrong with me?”

Keigo looked at her hunched back and saw that she put her face into her hands. He wished he could just take all her troubles away, be the hero that he was supposed to be, but of course, he couldn’t, and that - he hated.

“I’m so fucking tired. I have no energy for almost anything. Yesterday, before bed, I sat in front of my computer for hours. Doing absolutely nothing… Why am I even telling you this? It’s so stupid. You do so much for everyone and I’m just dumping my shit on you… saying how tired I am, while you’re so much more tired than me.” She straightened her back with a dry chuckle.

He leaned slightly towards her and put his arm on her shoulder. She turned her head to the side and looked at him from the corner of the eye.

“Don’t invalidate yourself. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Call it my… bird senses-” he smiled a little “-but I felt like you might need someone. And nothing you do or say is stupid. Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

“You… remember?” She asked with raised eyebrows, after turning her body sideways to him.

“Of course. I remember a lot of things about you,” he said with such tenderness in his eyes that, while looking into them, she felt like she could suffocate. But it was good, it wasn’t nothing. “The quote you like, how you make your coffee, what is the song you listen to on repeat… everything I see and know about you, I remember.”

Pushing away the shame and the nagging voice, saying that Keigo didn’t really care, she faced him completely and moved close enough for her knees to touch his thighs. He could see now how shiny her eyes became.

“You can cry, if you want to.”

“I wish I could… no matter how teary my eyes get, it’s just… nothing comes out of them. But on the inside, on the inside, I’m weeping.”

She talked mostly with a flat voice, little change in her tone, but he sensed the grief deep inside her. Grief for herself, grief for her crumbling mind.

“That’s okay. It will come when the time is right.” He really hoped he was doing it right. That he was able to give any comfort.

With slight hesitation, she touched his leg with her fingertips before resting her palms to play with the fabric of his pants.

“I don’t get it. Why you are so… here. You could just leave and I would be okay… in time.”

“I told you that I love you, right?”

“You did, but still…” Her eyes became unseeing again. She looked through space with a spaced-out expression. “If I wasn’t here you wouldn’t have to bother, you wouldn’t have to worry.”

“Are you saying that you’ve thought about…” He did not want to end that sentence, too scared to actually hear it.

“Death?” So she ended it for him. “Yeah, I do… from time to time. But I don’t think I’d do it. Even if I think it would be better without me taking up space, I’m too selfish to just let go of everything…”

Keigo was a bit shocked with how calm she was. Death was something that he himself contemplated in the past, but hearing it said by someone he loved was on a whole another level. Fright and relief washed over him.

He took both of her hands into his and brought them to his mouth. He put his lips on her skin, not kissing, just feeling, making sure that she was indeed there with him.

“I… am so glad. So glad that you trust me enough to let me into your mind.” He made sure to look her straight in the eyes. His (just barely) trembling fingers squeezing hers. “You are my Sun. The most important star in my galaxy, in my whole universe, even. And I will do anything in my power to prevent you from burning out. I… I just need you like flowers need the Sun.”

She did not expect such a statement from him, it wasn’t really in his nature to make proclamations of that stature. But she knew it was on purpose, another thing he remembered: her love for the stars. If he loved her like she loved the unknown universe… It was almost overwhelming. She also understood the implication of his power - he would try to help her and if she needed more, he would get anyone more suited for this particular job.

He sighed and put their hands down (never letting go).

“It sounds selfish, doesn’t it? You need me and I say that I need you.”

She gently pulled her hands away from his and changed her position to sit on her feet. Leaning forward, she cupped his face softly, fingers getting tangled in his messy blond hair.

“Do you know what is it about us, Keigo? Why do we even work?” She asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“We’re fake. Both of us.” He knew what she meant. “We’re fake to the world. But we know the truth and need each other to tell it.”

He said nothing, instead just embracing her, the words still echoing in his mind.

The position they were in was uncomfortable. His arms around her torso, hers around his neck with her head on his shoulder, both leaning into one another a bit awkwardly. Still, they both savored the warmth the other provided.

“I will stand by you all the way, as long as you want me,” he whispered right in her ear.

“You’re betting on a losing dog…”

“A losing dog...? Then I’m losing by your side.” He felt her slight smile on the crook of his neck. “I’ll wait for the day when you sing along to songs again…”

She lifted her head to look at him from the corner of her eye.

“You know, that’s a bit cheesy.”

“Maybe,” he said with a sigh, “but when you do it, you always seem happy or content. When you stop singing, the silence is almost deafening…”

She hummed in agreement, he was right, after all.

“Hide me away, Keigo,” she whispered gripping the fabric on his back, “Just for a moment, please.”

His wings spread to the sides before enveloping tightly the two of them.

They sat in their own crimson bubble, a safe haven, while his phone lit up in his pocket with a reminder of forgotten reality.

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genderfluid-insomniac · 3 years

Text

"You're Mine." ~ Hawks x reader x Gojo x Dazai

words: 2.6k

This is just pure self-indulgence

Sitting on the steps of your house you scroll through your phone bored on a Saturday afternoon and looked up occasionally at the birds or chipmunks passing through the grass. You had just gotten out of classes yesterday and were taking the day to relax, winding down through social media or hobbies. Some of the favorite anime’s had updated and you had already binged them, now facing the consequences of being a binge-watcher.

Leaning your head up to the sky you close your eyes and let the sun warm your face, enjoying the warm spring day. You feel something tickle your nose and brush your face, the object in question being soft and light.

Opening your eyes, you see a red feather brushing your face and are put into shock a bit but brush it off as a coincidence with the winged character in the recent episode you watched. You laughed and put your phone down to grab the feather, touching lightly admiring how soft it was. “Be careful with that feather, kid.” A masculine voice laughed behind you, whipping around to see none other than Hawks or Keigo Takami.

“W-what? How are you here?!” staring at him with a slightly panicked look. It’s not that you didn’t want him here, it was an amazing mystery, but you really didn’t want him to know how much you actually liked him. “I don’t think that matters because you here, I’m here and I finally get to see my baby bird~” He rasped while lifting you up and wrapping an arm around your waist, hugging you tightly.

You heard him sign contently and pull away to stare into your eyes, closing the gap between you, and stopped before whispering, “Can I?” Nodding you kissed him back and put your arms around his neck, being careful of his wings. Feeling them flutter slightly, some of the longer feathers brushing against you because of the wind.

The kiss was soft and loving, adoring every second of it knowing this could be fake. You both broke for air and you hugged him once more, burying your face into his neck and murmuring how this couldn’t possibly be real and you had to wake up now.

“This is real and I promise I’m not a hallucination. I cannot believe I can finally hold you in my arms, be able to actually speak to you, kiss you, love you, gaze at you, and fuck you.” Keigo whispered the last part, placing small kisses all over your face and smirking as he saw your face light up from his comment.

Furiously blushing, you look at his face again, his blonde wavy hair, the crimson wings seemingly as tall as you, the black birthmarks around his golden eyes, to the warmth of his hands cupping your face.

The both of you lovingly staring at each other and smiling like no tomorrow. But of course, that was interrupted but not by who you expected it to be. “Hey! I see you found Ashe, thanks for waiting for me.” Gojo said walking up to the both of you smirking and staring right at you through his black sunglasses, not even bothering to acknowledge Keigo.

The tall white-haired man strolled up to you guys and intertwined your hands with his, using the other hand to take off his glasses revealing his stunning blue eyes. “How are you doing, sweetheart?” If your face could get redder it was because of how flustered you were with both of your crushes flirting with you (not even remembering your kiss with Keigo for fear of shutting down out of embarrassment).

“Hey bud, I think you’re mistaken because we were in the middle of something. Back off.” The winged man said, tightening his grasp on your waist possessively and glaring at Gojo.

“I don’t think they would mind, seeing as they like me as well.” Gojo teased back to Keigo, winking at you not so subtly, “Gojo, I hate to tell you but you’re wrong because I know I can make them blush harder than you.

After all, I did just steal a kiss from them and I know my baby bird loved every second of it, isn’t that right Ashe?” Stuttering your cheeks flushed brightly as you went to hide your face in Keigo’s chest, completely speechless because of what he had said.

Feeling Hawks’ chest vibrate as he laughed at your reaction, suddenly sweeping you up in his arms and hovering off the ground as his wings curled around you both. “Just try and keep up with me, pretty boy~,” He said as Keigo shot up into the sky, leaving Gojo on the ground.

“Now I have you all to myself~ My beautiful hummingbird.” The blonde said holding against his chest, nuzzling his face into your neck as you held onto him for dear life. You know that he would never drop you but there’s still that fear instilled in you.

You gasped as Keigo kissed your neck and tried to find your sweet spot, nibling certain areas then licking them to soothe the slight pain it gave you. He moved to your earlobe, tugging with his teeth, and sucked it, humming as his breath fanned your face.

He pulled back with your lobe still in between his teeth and smirked. Keigo narrowed his eyes as he continued to suck on it and hum pleasantly. Letting go of it to kiss you passionately, moaning into the kiss as you return it and close your eyes.

You feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip, asking for permission in and you gladly open your mouth. Signing contently as his tongue roamed your mouth claiming every inch of it, caressing your tongue, and moaning as you both continue.

After a couple of seconds, you both break apart for air, desperately panting for air while Keigo seems less tired than you. Leaning your head on his chest as he rests his head on top of yours humming a soft song as you both fly in and out of the clouds.

“I couldn’t ask for anything more than this. I love you so much, dove. The way you smile, always giving me another reason to see it again. How easy it is to fluster you with just my words, seeing those cheeks bloom red whenever I tease you,” Of course you had blushed at that comment being completely true and you could never deny it.

You were always weak to teasing and being flustered and with Keigo of all people doing it didn’t help your case at all. “I can’t believe I’m actually here with you, Keigo. It seems too good to be real but I hope this never ends. I love you so much.” He smiled and leaned down, nuzzling your noses together,

“I love you too, baby bird. So much-” He was cut short by a popping sound and you being lifted out of his arms, into Gojo who had apparently warped to catch up to you guys.

“I wanted to be respectful and let the both of you finish your moment but I couldn’t wait any longer. Now they’re mine, birdy.” Not even giving Keigo a chance to respond only hearing a “shit!” from him as you and Gojo quickly went back down to the ground somewhere.

By now, you couldn’t even keep track of where you were but hoped you didn’t die now because that would suck. Once you felt your feet touch the ground, you pried your hands off of his neck that you had been clutching in all the panic. Your apology being brushed off by Gojo as he walked you two further down the alleyway with him just staring ahead.

“Finally have some alone time with you without someone interrupting. So,” You were suddenly pulled to his chest as Gojo went to sit down on a nearby box, your hands landing on his chest to stabilize yourself as you straddled him.

“I’m not letting you go anytime soon, baby. You’re mine~” he said as his hand lifted your chin and captured your lips softly, putting his hand around your waist to get you closer. Gojos’ hand moved from your chin to your neck as you both passionately kissed each other and softly moaned as you both continued. Until the very last moment, you broke for air as he smirked gazing at your pink cheeks, slightly open mouth inhaling air and half-lidded eyes.

Leaning down to kiss your neck, sucking parts as you react gasping as he licked a line up your neck and kissed your jaw. Doing this all while you could see him staring at you from his lowered sunglasses, teasingly staring at you as he got you all hot and bothered. You let a moan slip as you felt him brush your ass, squeezing it as he went to your thighs and rubbed them, going up and down.

Occasionally, squeezing parts and laughing while he was still kissing your neck at the small noises you let out. “That’s it, baby. Let me hear your pretty little voice~” He purred as he locked his eyes on yours, smirking and relentlessly kissing and biting along your neck. Gojo stopped but continued to rub your thighs, kissing you as his hands wandered further up and reached your clothed clit.

Causing you to moan loudly into his mouth as he softly rubbed his fingers up and down the fabric separating him from your skin. “I can’t wait to hear you screaming your name in pleasure for me-,” Hearing a clash and seeing black smoke fill the air and hearing Gojo hiss, you were pulled away from your crush yet again and backing into someone’s chest.

You were quickly pulled out of the area, coughing as you ran from the alley you were once in. At this point, you were too aroused to care and a bit annoyed at people stealing you away just when things got heated. Finally being able to see your ‘kidnapper’ and it being none other than Dazai. Smiling back at you as both ran, “Knew he would be there, just a matter of time and patience until I finally had you in my arms.”

Laughing he kept running with you helplessly following him and jumping over any debris that you would run into, looking ahead to see an abandoned building. You both rushed inside, stopping to catch your breath when you look around to see where you are and scan the area around you. The dark interior of the warehouse was covered in broken glass and scattered boxes, some sunlight was peaking in through the uncovered window.

You walk around the building, studying all the boarded-up windows and boxes full of old junk, and heard Dazai following you. Seeing him next to you in your peripheral vision eyeing you as you explored the building, remaining silent until you reached an iron support beam and ran your hand over some carvings in the metal. You heard a hum behind you and slowly backed into the beam as Dazai crept towards you.

“Well, we’re alone in here and I have you all to myself. Now~” The brunette said as he kissed you, grasping your cheek as he pushed his body against yours. Letting out a small noise in surprise but returning it immediately and closing your eyes letting Dazai lead.

You bit his lip and moaned as he growled in response, running his hands down your figure and resting at your hands, intertwining them. He licked your bottom lip and you gave him access, dancing his tongue over yours and moving it around your mouth.

You felt his hands raise yours and pin your wrists with one hand above your head, breaking the kiss and narrowing his eyes at you in lust. Tilting his head and placed a string of kisses from your jaw to your collar bones, trailing his hand down your back reaching your ass, and squeezing it causing you to involuntary push your body against his.

“Just like that, darling. Show me what you got~” You nodded with half-lidded eyes filled with lust as he looked you up and down seductively. Murmuring how long he had waited for this moment and kissing your neck, stretching your clasped hands despair to grab on to something.

Your breathing became ragged as you became aware of how turned on you were getting as Dazai found your sweet spot and abused it with kisses, biting it and sucking it. There were going to be hickeys all over your neck the next day from what these men had done to you but you weren’t complaining.

Loud moans left your mouth as he licked and kissed the places where he had bit, coming back up to kiss you once more, moaning into the kiss and your eyes fluttered closed once again. You felt a gust of wind pass you as you broke the kiss to look at the entrance to the warehouse to see a vermillion pair of wings fly by as his feathers separate the both of you, flying you to Keigo’s arms.

“And here I thought they would go easy on me. Hope you didn’t think that I gave up, you’re always gonna be mine kid~.” He purred into your ear as he whispered what he was going to do to make you forget about both of the other two. Flying out of the building and back into the sky, making sure you weren’t going to hit anything before looking down at you curled into his chest away from the wind.

At this point, you were far past thinking you were dreaming and just enjoyed all the attention you were getting. Feeling him kiss your head as Keigo slowly descended to your porch, you were going to ask him to put you down when his wings closed around you,

“So, I’m guessing you both aren’t giving up, huh? You have a lot of nerve stealing my baby bird away from me.” You heard Keigo growl holding your closer and you saw Gojo and Dazai casually leaning on the porch steps, looking at you with ‘playful’ smirks. The white-haired sorcerer was the first to speak,

“No way. Especially not when they were clearly enjoying my touches the best~” He said huskily as you were pulled out of Keigo’s arms and into Gojo’s chest. “You two obviously have no idea what you’re talking about because you should have heard the noises they were making for me. Oh, wait- Hawks you were there for part of it?”

Dazai smugly grinned as he pulled you closer towards him, “How’d it feel that your ‘baby bird’ became my darling? Hm?” This was Keigo’s last nerve apparently because he slowly walked toward him and wrapped an arm around their waist, forcing you closer to Keigo with both of your hands still being with Gojo and Dazai.

They all glared at each other while your mind had short-circuited long ago just trying to breathe properly with all three guys fighting over you and eventually hearing enough of their bickering, “Guys! As much as I would love to say who flustered me the most, I don’t want to upset any of you when I love you all so much. Besides, I actually don’t know who ‘won’ because I felt drunk on lust for most of it.”

You said to all of them, laughing at the end of it. Noticing glances being shared by the three guys and seemingly coming to a conclusion silently, Gojo being the first to say something, “Well if we all tied this round,” Dazai whispered next to your ear and further helped your blush, “Then it only seems fair,”

Keigo tilted your red face up and came close enough to touch your lips, “That we all get to try again. How about it hummingbird?” They all wove their arms around you as you finally processed what they had said.

Shit.

#pro hero hawks #gojo satoru #saturo gojo #gojo x y/n #gojo x gender neutral reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu #bungo stray dogs wan #bungo stray dogs #my hero academia #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader

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thatmultifandomhoe · 4 years

Text

The Size of a Heart

Pairing: Lee Hoseok (Wonho) and Reader

Word Count: 9,919

Genre: Established Relationship AU - Slice of Life AU - Smut - Angst - Fluff

Overview: Between work and obtaining an MFA, it had been too long since you and Hoseok had gotten to spend more than a few hours together, let alone be intimate with each other. When he whisks you away for a well-deserved weekend getaway, just the two of you and no one else, you eagerly jumped on board, and him. But when you wake up alone left with your thoughts, unable to escape the insecurities you once put behind you, this weekend changes your relationship in a way you hadn’t even hoped for.

Warning: Tattooed Wonho, Pierced Wonho, messy kisses, Wonho is a hoe for the reader’s boobs, size kink - body insecurity, body dysmorphia, talk about dieting, talk about starving, talk about binge eating, fasting, self-hatred, self-conscious, use of the term fat in a negative view – explanation of the butterfly project.

A/N: This drabble was perhaps one of the hardest fics I’ve written, and that’s because this story deals with something that I’ve struggled with for many, many years now. With that being said, one of the many things this story deals with is body dysmorphia.

For those who are unaware, body dysmorphia or - Body dysmorphic disorder - is a mental health disorder in which you can't stop thinking about one or more perceived defects or flaws in your appearance — a flaw that appears minor or can't be seen by others. I am stating this right now, I have never been diagnosed with body dysmorphic disorder, but I have done many of the things that are mentioned later on in this fic.

This was not an easy story to write because I put in my own experiences with being self-conscious, with hating what I see in the mirror, with seeing an image of myself that isn’t what others see. To be honest, I’ve also left out a lot of the things that I’ve done because of that. There were many moments were I had to stop and walk away from this fic because it was so hard to read the things the MC is going through, and knowing that I did them, that I still do. It’s not easy.

This is just a heads for those who may not be comfortable reading such things. And that’s perfectly understandable. For those of you do decide to read this fic, well, I hope you enjoy. I really do. There are moments that made me laugh, so I promise it’s not all angst lol. I really do.

Master List:

Music Playlist:

Part of the Intimacy Anthology Project

©thatmultifandomhoe 2020. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

The sky was burning as the sun set for the night, cloaking the city in its familiar darkness. Leaning against the side door, you watched the world blur by from the passenger seat of Hoseok’s car.

Only half an hour earlier did you get a text from him telling you to pack a bag. Somehow, he managed to clear his own schedule, and knowing that you were free as well, he decided that the two of you needed a getaway from reality for a few days, even if it was only to his place. The best of it all, was the promise of spending all day in his bed.

You and Hoseok had only been dating for six months at this point, and while sex with him wasn’t a new thing, this was the first time that you were going to be spending a weekend with him. With all the hours that he put into his tattoo shop, and you working on obtaining your MFA while still working full time as an assistant to a family run law firm, more often than not your schedules didn’t line up. Work and school dictated both your lives, making it near impossible to spend more than a few hours together.

Despite living in the same city, the two of you relied on video chats and messaging apps to stay connected as if it was a long-distance relationship.

Which is why once you had received his text about his plans, you had rushed around the apartment, ignoring the strange looks your roommates gave you as you ran to your room, throwing in clothes from the closet without a second thought and those lacey bra and panties that had been waiting for their moment to shine.

Three nights. Two days. Alone with Hoseok sleeping next to you, was all that you needed and wanted to do. There were no plans whatsoever that involved leaving his bed.

Shifting in the seat, the corners of your mouth lifted when seeing Hoseok glance at you, his eyes lingering on your bare legs as you straightened them out more. He was driving one-handed, the other resting on the console, fingers intertwined with yours as he rhythmically rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Won’t be much longer,” Hoseok said, lifting your tangled hands to kiss the back of yours.

You hummed in agreement, watching the corner of his eyes crinkle as he smiled and chuckled, glancing up at you before focusing back on the road. He had asked for you to be ready to go by seven, that way there wouldn’t be much traffic to deal with.

“You sure you won’t have to work this weekend?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hoseok nodded, kissing your knuckles once more and keeping them against his lips for a few extra moments. “I promise, love. I made sure not to book any sessions.”

Adjusting in his seat, he shifted his knee against the steering wheel, the clicking of the blinkers going off as he pulled into his driveway. Your smile widened as you let go of his hand to gather your purse and backpack, prepared to open the door when the lock sharply echoed in the car. There was no time for you to react because the next thing you knew, fingers were gripping your chin and turning you to face Hoseok. For a split second, his sneaky grin took up the majority of his face before his mouth descended onto yours.

His plush lips were soft against yours, and while he had given you a quick kiss when you had left the apartment, you had been too excited about being with him to be able to properly enjoy it. Now…the bags slipped from your fingers, a dull thud barely registering in your mind as you cradled the back of his head. Briefly you felt him smile, but when you leaned further into him, his hands sliding their way down and around your frame as the kiss deepened.

It had been so long since either of you kissed like this. Usually you settled for soft and sweet, occasionally indulging in his games when he would try to pull you back for a chaste kiss, then another, and then one last one, I promise, until you had to rush to get back to the office or class.

Hoseok tugged on the bottom of your shirt until it was freed from your jeans, eagerly sliding his palms over your back, trailing each bump of your spine and leaving your body shivering with his sudden touch. Threading your fingers through his black hair, you lightly tugged on the locks, his sudden groan shooting you straight in the heart.

“Been too long,” you murmured, shifting in the seat so that you were sitting on your knees in the seat, and for the first time ever, hovering over Hoseok as you leaned back down, hungrily kissing him.

When was the last time the two of you were able to lose yourselves in each other? Without worrying about work and projects getting in the way every single time?

There was no warning from Hoseok except for a squeeze of your hips when you felt yourself becoming airborne for a few brief seconds, finding your new position to be straddling his hips. His hands felt like they were everywhere, lost in the taste of the mint gum he must have chewed earlier to do anything more than moan when his hands slipped into your back pockets to squeeze your ass.

Taking advantage of your open mouth, he slipped his tongue in, grip tightening on your ass as he felt your hips rock against him.

Even with the AC on, the cold air did nothing to cool your body temperature, making the already warm summer day hotter inside the car. Although you knew who to blame for that sudden change.

Your heart was racing as the kissing continued breaching into desperate lust. Your chest was aching from the lack of oxygen, but you refused to give in to such a simple thing like air. In your opinion, this, kissing your boyfriend, was far more important despite how much your lungs were disproving this decision.

It didn’t help that despite being on his lap, space between you and the steering wheel were tight. Needing something to hold on to, you slid your hands up Hoseok’s chest, gripping the sides of his leather. The sudden pull on his jacket had him moving forward, and with your minds preoccupied, neither of you realized the consequence of that action until it was too late.

The horn blared in your ears, jolting the two of you apart at the unwanted noise that only stopped when Hoseok tugged you off the steering wheel and against his chest. For the short moments afterwards, the outside world fell silent, your chest heaving as short gasps escaped from trying to catch your breath. Palms placed firmly on Hoseok’s chest, they moved with him as he tried to regulate his own breathing, and it was there that they shook with his shoulders, his giggles starting out soft and adorable before growing loud.

His laughter was infectious. So much so that you found yourself resting your forehead on his shoulder, cheeks aching from smiling and laughing so harshly. The longer that you sat on his lap, a dull ache settled in your knees, but there was nothing in this world that was going to make you leave his arms, the very ones that were wrapped around you with one of his hands cradling the back of your head. He held you just tight enough to reassure you that he was in fact here and holding you, that this wasn’t just another hopeful dream.

“Are you okay?” He said, his voice light with his giggles.

Nodding, you leaned backwards to look at him, eyes smiling as bright as his smile. “I’m fine,” you reassured, stealing a glance behind you to make sure that you didn’t hit the steering wheel as you shifted on his lap.

His soft pink lips were darker and his hair was disheveled from your fingers. Reaching you, you gently fixed the messed up looks, missing the way that his laughter turned to only the occasional giggle, his face softening as he gazed at you. Before you could remove your hand, Hoseok was taking it in his, fingers automatically lacing together with yours as he bumped his forehead against yours.

You closed your eyes at the connection, catching the faintest scent of crisp apples attached to his clothing. It was fresh, yet reminded you of his shop at the same time. He must have come straight to your apartment from working on a client.

Inside your chest, your heart didn’t race, instead it slowed down, comfortably beating as his nose softly brushed against yours. As much as you had missed the passion and his kisses, out of everything, it was the simplest of innocent touches, his familiar presence that you craved and missed so dearly. He had a way about himself that was able to turn the mood up to a hundred, and carefully bring it back to normal.

“How about we leave this car,” Hoseok murmured, his palms resting on the small of your back. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather spend our little vacation inside the house.”

As perfect as this moment was, he was right. The ache in your knees had grown along with a minor fear that if the two of you kept this going in the driver’s seat, that you would once again be getting a rude greeting from the car horn.

Lifting your forehead off his, you raised an eyebrow at him. “Anywhere in particular inside?”

The corner of his lips twitched again, bringing back his smile at full force. “Wherever you want to be.”

A scoff left you too easily. Pushing off of him, you undid the lock and with his hands steadying you, got out of the car and headed in the direction of his front door. A summer breeze kissed at your heated body, the leaves from the trees shaking from up above as small lights blinked in and out around the yard like miniature falling stars. It had been awhile since you last saw fireflies. They were childhood memories and nostalgia that had you diverting from the original plan of going inside, content with staying out for a little while longer.

When a pair of arms wrapped around your frame and hands settled on your hips, Hoseok’s head leaning against yours, it was easy to picture this moment happening over and over again every summer. While it was a little shocking how easy it was to imagine, nothing felt more right than this. Maybe not always right in this spot, but by his side was where it felt perfect. Where it felt natural.

Lips nibbling at your neck had your eyes closing, easily leaning against his body as you were brought back to reality.

“Didn’t know you were into public stuff,” Hoseok teased, sucking at a particular spot on your neck that had you gasping. “I’m not sure how my neighbors will feel about that though.”

You swatted at his thigh, feeling his lips curve upwards before he pressed himself completely against your backside, allowing you to feel every inch and curve of his body. Shifting in his embrace, your eyes widened upon feeling something else pressing against your ass. One that brought back more mildly more recent memories and weren’t childhood friendly, saliva building up and forcing you to swallow.

“Maybe…maybe we should go inside.” you suggested, voice barely above a whisper as you tried to remain calm, taking a shaky breath despite wanting nothing else but to continue.

Hoseok hummed against your neck, leaving one last kiss. Straightening up, he winked and tapped your ass, leaving a hand on your lower back to guide you to the house, all as if he wasn’t walking around with an erection or that he had riled you up. Like this was normal for him.

It only took seconds.

Fifteen seconds to get inside his house. Ten seconds to kick your shoes onto the shoe rack he had, and only five seconds for Hoseok to spin you around and bring you close enough for him to kiss. Like in the car, the lust was quickly ignited once more as you tried to keep up with him, wanting to taste and feel more of him. You wanted him, in every which way possible, to the point where it was an overflowing pot, and yet, even then it wouldn’t be enough.

You would never be able to get enough of the man that was Lee Hoseok.

With an ease that still surprised you, Hoseok gripped your waist and picked you up as if you weighed nothing, making you wrap your legs around his hips to bring you closer. Once he had you like he wanted, he secured his arms around you and carried you away all while keeping the kiss going.

He walked with a clear destination and kissed like he was the devil coming to collect his debt, personally bringing you to Hell’s gates where you knew that only his touch would run hotter than its fires.

A chill erupted along your spine as blankets and pillows gently encompassed your body, only then did the kiss break, chest heaving as you tried to look around the room, but when he nibbled on your shoulder it was game over. You moaned, taking a moment to indulge in the feeling before reaching up to push his leather jacket off. He barely removed himself from you to take off his favorite clothing piece, but he tugged it off and only ended up lightly biting your skin, eliciting a gasp from you.

“Sorry love,” Hoseok murmured, kissing that spot oh so gently that it questioned whether or not his lips had actually touched the skin.

“It’s fine,” you chuckled, tilting your head to kiss him once again.

When Hoseok kissed you for the first time it was after your sixth date. At first you had thought it was strange that he would wait so long for a kiss that most people gave out after a second or third date, but he had never been one to rush things, and by taking his time, it had made that first time all that more special. They had been addicting back then, and as he took you to Paris in the comfort of his room, you found yourself never wanting to stop.

Shirts were quickly discarded and you managed to get Hoseok on his back, taking the advantage of straddling his waist to leave your own love bites around his neck, kissing your way down his sternum, feeling each and every shaking breath that he took before hearing his groans.

A black and grey scale of a lion took up the majority of his chest, strands of its mane peaking up onto his shoulders and the base of his neck that always teased you when he wore a shirt. Due to how large the piece was, the mane covered his pecs, practically hiding the silver bars of his nipple piercings. A dare he had gotten back in his younger years. When he told you that story it was always with a smile. Free piercings and jewelry, I just had to prove I had the balls to go through with it.

A deep moan sounded from above when you kissed his nipple, the metallic taste of the piercing lingering on your tongue, his fingers digging into your hips as he tried to grind himself into you. It only succeeded in sending the fire that was boiling straight to your heart, your nails raking down his sides and causing him to flinch at the sensation.

“We can tease the fuck out of each other later,” Hoseok groaned, undoing the button of your shorts with quick movements. “I’ve missed you too much to wait any longer.”

As much as you enjoyed worshiping every curve and groove from his muscles, he was right. Releasing his piercing, you leaned back up to steal a kiss that he readily accepted. His palms trailed up your body, almost wrapping around you as he rolled you on your back and slipping between your lower half.

Breaking the kiss, Hoseok messily kissed down the valley of your breasts, his fingers making quick work of removing the offending shorts off your legs and tossing them to the floor without a care to where they landed. The bra didn’t last much longer. Once your breasts were free, he descended on the left one, sucking and licking the nipple as he fondled the other, forcing a gasp from you as you felt your underwear grow damp.

The blankets were bunched up and shifting towards the edge of the bed, and when he suddenly let go of your breast, the air in the room suddenly too cold as it made contact with the wet mess he left, you let go of the blankets and chose to hold on to his shoulders when he latched on the right nipple. As if not wanting to let it feel left out, he ran his thumb over the saliva he left, spreading it over your boob.

“Hoseok,” you whined, back arching off the pillow.

He hummed around your breast, lips curling up until he released you with a satisfied grin as the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“Sorry love,” he murmured, messily kissing you again. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Take off your pants if you’re so sorry,” you said, raising a leg to push at the jeans that clung to his body.

“Gladly.”

Pushing himself up, his black bangs fell in his face as he worked on removing his pants, the belt clattering against itself as it fell to the floor.

Wetting your lips, you watched, unabashedly drinking in the way your boyfriend had built himself up from all the late night and early morning workouts he did at the gym, even occasionally slipping one in during the middle of the day. All his hard work and protein shakes had paid off, even with his odd obsession with eating ramen at random times.

However, as he went to push them down, you quickly leaned forward to trace the black cursive letters that were tattooed near his abs and v-line, right above the band of his jeans. He didn’t have this the last time you two had sex, and there was no memory of him mentioning getting another tattoo.

“Monsta…X?” You read aloud, glancing up at him.

His smile widened but he didn’t speak, settling for only raising a single eyebrow.

Of all the things he could have gotten inked onto his body, this was perhaps the strangest. Usually he only got tattoos that were important to him. The lion on his chest was symbolic to protecting those he loved. His entire upper left arm was a nightlife scene with bright colors of Seoul, South Korea to represent his home country, and underneath that on his forearm was a small bouquet of yellow daffodils that appeared as if the flowers had grown right out of his wrist, they were so realistic.

Everything had a meaning, so what was so important that he had to get those words tattooed? Especially in a spot that made it impossible to not steal a glance at his…

“You named your dick Monsta X?” You gasped; eyes wide as his body shook with his laughter. “Why?”

“Why not?” He giggled, continuing to remove his pants.

Your mouth opened and closed repetitively, but a slow grin overtook your face and you shook your head, just as amused if not even more than Hoseok was. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“I mean…” Tossing his pants away, he winked as he reached over to the nightstand drawer and pulled out a foil, setting it on the bed next to you as he sat on his knees, his thigh muscles stealing your attention briefly when they flexed, the bulge in his briefs almost straining against the fabric. “You always call it that anyway.”

The sudden laugh was ripped from your throat and you hurried to cover your mouth with your palm. If it weren’t for the fact that he was grinning – his eyes met yours for a moment and his smile softened, almost daring to dip into shy territory before he cleared his throat - and you knew that he had a sense of humor, you would have been trying to fix what you said. Besides, it wasn’t like he was wrong either, it had just been the last thing you expected him to say.

“Now that we got that out of the way,” Hoseok said, still amused while lifting your legs together in one hand as he removed your damp panties with the other, tossing them like a basketball towards the door despite your halfhearted protests. He quickly discarded his own pair without a second thought and after rolling on the condom, with no warning whatsoever he tugged on your legs to bring you closer to him and in-between you once more.

Leaning down, he captured your lips in another kiss. This one, unlike the others, was slower, more sensual as he took the time. Despite the heated impromptu make out session in the car, it still felt like forever since the two of you had last been together. Not just intimately, but in the simplest, and loving ways.

When the kiss finally broke, there were a few beats where the world seemed to stop turning as you gazed at each other. Even though it had only been six, glorious, months with Hoseok, the thought of it one day coming to an end was nonexistent. With him, it felt like you were right where you belonged.

He stole another kiss, then a second, but could one even call it stealing when you’re just as eager to kiss him? As the kisses continued, fingers trailed down your hip and thigh, feeling it grip your leg and moving it around his hip before repeating it with the other.

The night was long, but as the sheets twisted in your grip, you knew it was going to be everything and then some.

Shifting against the sheets, you pressed your face further into the warm pillow, the blankets tucked around your body, ensuring that at no point would the chilled air reach you. Not wanting to move around too much, you stretched a hand out to the side, hoping that Hoseok would feel you moving around and pull you close. He always ran warmer than you, even going so far and to tease about you using him as your own personal heater.

Instead, your fingers wrapped around cold sheets.

The difference in temperature had you yanking your hand back to the safety of the warm cocoon you were wrapped up in as you tilted your head. Blinking, you saw that the side where Hoseok should have been, was neatly made up, with only a single wrinkle from when you tried to feel around for him.

“Hoseok?” you said, wondering if he was even still in the house.

He had promised that this weekend was for the two of you with no interference from anyone. Including work and school. Holding the blankets to your chest, you took your sweet time sitting up. The sunlight that was streaming in through the blinds and decently sheer curtains blinded you for a few seconds, forcing you to tilt your head away from the window. Although in only a short time were your shoulders relaxing as the sunlight warmed the bare skin.

Now that you were up, you were able to see that the floor had been cleaned up from last night’s reunion, the clothes that neither of you had gave a damn about where now in the hamper by the bedroom door, and your purse and backpack were sitting on the leather desk chair with a red silk robe folded over the back. It was the exact opposite from the night before. The only exception was the missing Hoseok.

Yawning, you ran a hand through your hair, recalling the way that Hoseok had brushed the locks away from your face to kiss you. The corner of your lips curled upwards, and you had started to lay back down on the bed, the warmth of the blankets coaxing and teasing the possibility of a few more hours of sleep, you spotted a piece of paper on his pillow.

It was folded in half with your name written carefully on it with a heart, bringing a smile to your face before you had even read it.

Morning love, I promise I didn’t sneak off to work while you slept. I told you that nothing work related would interfere with our weekend, and I’m keeping it that way. So you’re probably wondering where the hell I am then. Don’t worry, I just went to the gym nearby for my morning workout. I should be back by noon, unless you’re still asleep by the time I return, then this letter will be pointless.

Either way, I’ll see you soon.

Always,

Your Muscle Bunny.

Despite the fact that he was still gone, a grin appeared and you were pressing your face into the pillow, still holding onto the letter as muffled giggles filled the room. He was never going to let you live that down, but even then, it was so true.

Hoseok was without a doubt jacked up and he took the time to research, spending hours understanding the muscles that he wanted to work on and finding the best exercises to achieve that. Making protein shakes in bulk. There had been many conversations where you’d ask and he’d go on and explain it all to you. At times it made you wonder why he never became a doctor.

But then there were those moments – the rare times the two of you managed to find time together – and he’d be the one tugging you closer for cuddles, sometimes laying on top of you with his head resting on your chest while watching a movie and playing with his hair. When it was hard to find time to meet up for dates, instead of going home to your roommates, you found love letters addressed from him, each one handwritten asking how you were and catching you up on his life. They were personal, each one containing a faint whiff of his cologne, sometimes little mementos that he thought you might enjoy, a slip of poetry or even ones he created himself. Every one you received was carefully placed in a box that you kept on your dresser, more often than not rereading them when all-nighters were the only way to get work done.

He was buff and strong, but at the same time he was soft and didn’t care who knew.

A true muscle bunny.

Rolling over on the bed, you set the note on the nightstand, making a mental note to save it for the memory box when you got back home. The clock had revealed that it was only eleven in the morning as you got out of the bed, quickly nabbing and covering yourself with the robe before going anywhere else.

Without having Hoseok home, the place was quiet as your footsteps papped against the wood floor when you went down the hallway to the bathroom. If he was at the gym then he’d be hightailing it to the shower, unless he wanted to be mean and give a sweaty hug, and you wanted to take advantage of the hot water before he got back. Living with a group of undergrads to try and save money had come with many pros and cons, but the true loss had been the long hot showers you treasured. It was a luxury if you were able to snag fifteen minutes without someone banging on the door.

The fact that he had written out a note instead of sending a text kept the smile floating as the water heated up, your favorite playlist playing loud enough to be heard from down the hall. It was the little things that he did that made you wonder if it was right to tell him those three special words. Since the two of you started dating, it was impossible to imagine yourself with anyone else, and while you didn’t want to jump the wagon and declare that you were ready for marriage, being able to say I love you and hear him tell it back to you, sent butterflies dancing in your stomach.

Reaching in to check the water, you hung the robe on the hook, glancing at your reflection in the mirror. Purple hickeys dotted all over your body, primarily centering around your breasts and neck. Unable to help yourself, you stepped closer to the mirror as you let down your hair, tracing the shape of the marks that he had left out of love last night.

When you thought back on it, he had been so focused on your breasts, his hands remained on either your hips or your face, tilting you constantly so that he could kiss you in whatever position he put you in. But never once had they touched your stomach. Eyes falling to your torso, the lack of any curves had you biting the insides of your mouth, ignoring the dulled pain as you swiped away the fog that had gathered on the mirror.

At least, you thought they had been out of love.

There were no curves. It was just a square. You were just a square. No wonder Hoseok had ignored your stomach last night. He was constantly working out and even with his abs and broad shoulders, his waist still had the slightest curve that was obvious when he wore tight shirts, giving his body the appearance of an upside-down triangle. He put in the time and effort for his muscles and here you were, just a square.

Your workout routine? The most of a workout that you got involved walking on campus to get to each class and then your car for home or work. You couldn’t remember the last time you had carved out a set amount of time to go to the gym or do a home workout. There was barely any time to yourself.

The hot water raining down on you was a momentary distraction from the thoughts swirling around. It only lasted a few short minutes. Like wildfire, they ignited memories and beliefs that you swore you had locked up and burnt to ash years ago. Especially when you have been doing so well recently.

Numbers of a scale rapidly spin each time you stand on it. The black and white numbers playing wheel of fortune as they decide your fate for the night. Did you lose? Or did you gain? The cards were always held by the ringmaster that was the small scale and whether or not they were what you originally wanted; they were never good enough when they were finally dealt out.

It was never enough. Never good enough. You always had to push it and even then, it wasn’t enough. The image you saw in the mirror convinced you to take smaller portions of meals, pushing the hours in-between meals before suddenly cutting off eating after a certain time, because the way your stomach twisted in pain and begged for some sort of substance had you convinced that it was working.

Days. Weeks. You’d be so good at keeping up with it, but there was always a hiccup that sent you plummeting in a spiral. It could be a snack, a small cherry tomato or even a cracker, and the next thing you knew all the containers were on the counter as you shoved whatever you could down your throat without a care in the word. Even then it wouldn’t be enough. It was never enough. You’d be eating, but your stomach would feel like a bottomless pit because you were so hungry. Hungry to the point that you wouldn’t be able to recall what the food you ate tasted like.

Then the scale would be mocking you all over again.

Leaning backwards against the wall, the water from the showerhead made it impossible to distinguish between the tears sliding down your face. You just pressed your lips together, just staring at the floral shower curtain that was hanging up, the shampoo bubbles sitting in your hair as you remained still.

You have been doing so good lately. The past hadn’t even been lingering thought and when Hoseok entered your life, everything just seemed to be falling in place.

Yet here you were, standing in the shower with water that was steaming but you felt nothing, rehashing old thoughts that were crawling their way through any empty space that was available. The tiniest crack of an opening was all they needed to enter uninvited.

He didn’t know about this. Hoseok. You had been so good with eating, no longer cutting back or bingeing that it never crossed your mind to tell him. But as you moved under the water to rinse out the suds, your fingers grazed the hickies he had left in his place. All over your chest and neck. Avoiding your stomach. Your thighs were barely even grazed. Everywhere but your stomach.

He knows, you thought, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes, gasps and whimpers filling the bathroom but drowned out by the music as you cried. There was no other way to explain it. He saw what you used to see, what you still see. The square. Nothing more than a body with rolls that hung on you. It was a miracle he was able to still have sex with you last night. How could he be with someone like you when it was so obvious that he put effort into maintaining his own body.

Body on autopilot, your hands went through the motions of washing out your hair and then applying conditioner while your mind detached itself from the mundane task at hand. The idea of him seeing you like this, with no shape at all, what you considered to be a square...no. A square was too nice of a term. You were not a square. A glance through the opening of the curtain let you see your reflection in the mirror, and your eyes watered up once again. Not a square, you thought. A blob. A fat, overweight blob, taking up his time and space.

Twisting your hair, you stared at the locks as water poured out before abruptly shutting it off, fingers gripping the handle that controlled the temperature as you pressed your free palm against the wall. The bathroom was like a sauna. Even after with the water shut off, the room was hotter than hell.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push away those thoughts. They were leeches clinging to the inside of your mind and no matter how much you pulled, they weren't coming off. In a daze you manage to straighten up and get out of the shower, wrap a towel around yourself and hair, all while biting down on the inside of your cheeks in an attempt to push them away. When you looked up however, the smear mark from when you wiped the fog off the mirror was still there, allowing you glimpses at yourself. For a split second you saw bloodshot eyes stared back and purple hickeys staring at you, but you looked down towards the floor to hurry out of the room, unable to push those thoughts and images away.

That’s because it’s you.

That blob is you.

It’s you.

Last night was wonderful. Beautiful. Perfect even. But now all you could think about was how Hoseok had avoided certain areas of you on purpose. That perhaps, he didn’t think you were as beautiful as he thought.

You didn’t recall changing. One second you were entering the bedroom in nothing but a towel and the next when you looked down to grip the fabric tighter, you were dressed in one of his black t-shirts and a pair of panties you had packed.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, the towel fell from your fingertips and in an attempt to hold on to something, anything to keep you from floating away, you slid them over your face and into your hair, twisting and gripping the locks until there was a hard ache on the side of your scalp.

“Go away,” you softly whispered, tugging a little hard to make those pesky leeches leave you. “Please go away. Please”

They needed to go. Disappear. It didn’t matter if you had to burn them to a crisp and leave behind a permanent scar. You just needed them to go away, because spiraling was not an option. Not again.

The house was silent when Hoseok arrived, his keys jangling together until he closed his fist around them, making him wonder if perhaps you were still asleep. A small smile formed as he quietly toed his shoes off, the first destination in his mind was to go to the bedroom and see if you were there.

Last night, neither of you had gone to sleep, or truly slept, until dawn had begun to peep through the curtains – because apparently the night didn’t last forever like the two of you had thought. A fault that was perhaps all on him and he should have known better. He was supposed to be older, wiser, more experienced, but how people liked to forget that he was still a man only in his twenties. Just…later in them.

But as he neared the bedroom, he remembered full well how you had wrapped your limbs around him, coaxing him back for more, kissing him not only on his lips but in everyplace where his skin wasn’t dotted with purple love marks from you.

Since he wore tank tops to work out in, the marks had certainly left an impression on the guys at the gym, receiving more head nods and grins than usual. The older man at the jewelry store however, had been less impressed. Then again, that could also be because Hoseok had gone straight there after working out, skipping out on his shower to pick up his order before the store closed for the day.

Not exactly the best decision that he’s made in life so far.

Carefully pushing open the bedroom door, his smile softened upon seeing you curled up on the bed. Not wanting to disturb you, he quietly set the box on his nightstand and left the room, going straight for the bathroom to shower.

As much as he would have loved to tease you, you didn’t deserve waking up to him smelling like dried sweat.

However, he frowned upon seeing the floor mats placed on the floor and condensation covering the mirror, droplets of water covering the entire surface of the bathroom. He turned to look down the hall, but he couldn’t hear any movements or your voice calling out his name.

Maybe she was still tired even after showering, Hoseok thought, shrugging it off as he shut the door behind him, hoping you hadn’t used up all the hot water.

Water dripped from his hair as he entered the bedroom, the towel tightly tied around his hips and confirming every single imagination and daydream. A glance over at your body revealed that you hadn’t moved at all in the time that he was gone.

Smirking, he kneeled on the bed, moving until he was behind you, pressing a hand on the mattress in front of you to maintain his balance while he leaned down to kiss your neck.

“Wake up love,” Hoseok murmured, dragging out the kisses as he took his sweet time in trailing them up to your jawline, last night once again reclaiming his mind. It was a joke to even consider that it had left in the first place.

He wasn’t going to lie and say that he hadn’t missed the sex when the two of you were apart more often than not, sex was great, amazing, otherworldly and even more with you. But that wasn’t even number one on his list. More often than not, he missed being able to sling an arm around your shoulders or waist to bring you in for a hug. The way that your fingers would run through his hair when you thought he was asleep, and the way your eyes always lit up when you talked about something that happened in your classes. Or when you would bump his leg with your foot to ask him about a word that was just on the tip of your tongue, but just conveniently out of reach at that second. It was always a simple word, but the way you exaggerated your arm motions while trying to describe it were fascinating to him.

Hoseok missed you.

Feeling you shift underneath him, his lips curled into a smile as he lifted his head, prepared to give you a kiss that you deserved, only for that mindset to suddenly change when he saw your watery eyes.

That was not how you normally woke up.

The last time he had seen you crying after waking up was when you had gotten your period in the middle of night. It had been a week early and the cramps came out of nowhere, leaving him clueless with what to do but willing to do anything to help ease the pain. Which meant a late-night run to the twenty-four hour convenience store, looking at a picture of the brand of pads you used on his phone, along with buying your favorite flavor of Ben and Jerry’s ice-cream and the big bottle of Advil.

He already had a heating pad at home for days when he overworked himself and his muscles got sore. Before leaving for the convenience store, he had set it up for you.

“What’s wrong love?” Hoseok asked, shifting so that his weight was on his left hand behind your back, hovering over your body to try and see your face better.

Before he could do it for you, you were quickly wiping your face with the heels of your palms. “Nothing,” you hurried to say, moving to sit up with the mindset of rushing out of the bedroom to make a run for the bathroom, hoping he would believe that it was a simple eyelash in your eye.

But he was too quick for you, his hand gently capturing your wrists and moving them down as he cupped your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Baby, it’s not nothing. What happened while I was gone?”

Sniffling, you shook your head. No. Why would you point out the obvious? He knew what you looked like. He saw. So why was he playing this game with you?

He sighed at your stubbornness, but that didn’t mean he was going to give up. Not caring if he got the blankets and sheets wet, he settled down beside you and slipped an arm underneath your body to roll you over and into his embrace where he securely wrapped his other arm over you. Once you were nestled in, Hoseok rested his chin on top of your head, drawing a lazy shape on your back, patiently waiting for the moment that you found your voice again.

The second Hoseok hugged you, the back of your eyes burned and you tightly squeezed them shut, not wanting to see anything, an old way to tell yourself that if you couldn’t see, then you wouldn’t have to see what was being reflected back at you.

But wrapped up in Hoseok’s arms, with his heart beating like a sweet lullaby, arms strong enough to fight off anyone who tried to hurt you, even he was unable to find and protect you from the leeches that forced you down the path that was littered with the broken glass and bloodstains that was your past.

His heart broke at the sound of your cries echoing in the bedroom, feeling the tears slide down his chest as he rubbed your shaking body. There was nothing he could do or say to make you feel better until he understood what was happening. All he could do was be here to hold you until you were ready.

Time passed by slowly, but at some point, the tears began to dry up, and the gasps for air had calmed down, allowing you to be able to breathe normally again. The only time you had physically moved was to cling to Hoseok, despite not wanting to tell him what was swirling around in your mind, you didn’t want him to leave you.

A blob.

You’re just a fat blob.

Do you really need to eat lunch today?

“Make it stop,” you whimpered, fingers clenching on the pillow behind Hoseok as your fist dug into his back.

His body jerked at the new bump but he ignored that, choosing to focus on what you were saying. You didn’t know it, but the entire time you had been crying, tears had fallen silently down his cheeks as he watched them fall into your hair. He hated seeing you in pain.

“Make what stop love?” He softly asked, moving a hand to be able to stroke your cheek.

“My mind,” you cried, not yelling, but your voice cracked as the emotions swirling inside you forced it to raise. “Please, make it stop. Shut it off, anything, please. Please, make it stop!”

If the world was to crash down around him, Hoseok knew that it would only take seconds, or even minutes, for it to crash and end him. Six months ago, you had agreed to go on a blind date set up by a friend of yours who had gotten a tattoo done by Hoseok. It had been a spur of the moment, neither of you really searching for anyone, but the thought of being in the company of another person instead of alone had tempted both of you enough to say yes.

Six months ago, you became his entire world and here you were, crashing around him, begging for him to stop whatever it was that was going on in your mind. Something that he had no feasible solution for. If he knew how to fight the demons that only you were able to see, he’d do it in a heartbeat. But he couldn’t, and knowing that, had him feeling like he was failing you in every possible way imaginable.

Gently, Hoseok shifted your body and moved you next to him on the bed, and when you tried to look away, he cupped the side of your face with a tilt in his direction. There was no avoiding in seeing the pools of tears building up and over his eyes.

“Tell me what’s wrong love,” he whispered, stroking your cheek once more. “You’re scaring me, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this.”

God, he was hurting. You hadn’t expected him to react in such a way.

Lie. Tell him you’re fine. He’ll believe it if you believe it.

You’re fine.

Everything’s fine.

Wetting your lips, you repeatedly opened and closed them, feeling like a damned fish unable to breathe and in search of water. Instead of suffocating, you were drowning.

“I…”

An ache built up in your stomach, reminding you that you truly hadn’t eaten anything since last night. Twisting and curling, the sharpness of running on empty was the cold kiss from a toxic lover. Memories of binging on food after midnight cuddled you from behind, weighing you down with iron shackles locked around your stomach.

“I…”

Skip lunch, eat a little bit of dinner so he won’t worry.

Tell him that you’re fine.

“Please love,” Hoseok begged, his fingers smoothing back locks of hair that had begun to fall in your face. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me. You don’t need to carry this by yourself.”

Lie dammit.

“I’m starving,” you whispered, watching his eyebrows pull together, fingers pausing on your skin but you reached up with a shaky hand to cover his, gripping tightly. “It hurts. So much Hoseok, but I don’t want to eat. I tell myself that it’s better if it hurts, but I…I can’t anymore…I can’t.”

The leeches were shrieking in your mind, white tips of a burning fire were touching them and they were dropping to the ground, yet the fire didn’t hurt one bit. For the first time in so long, the shackles of your secret came undone allowing you to step away from the broken path you had set yourself on.

Hoseok had turned his hand to run his thumb across your knuckles, the realization of what you meant hitting him. Eyes watering up, he opened his mouth to speak, only there were no words that felt right. You were hurting so much right now, the last thing he wanted to do was say the wrong thing without meaning to.

But like a dam that had suddenly burst, the words that he couldn’t find, were flooding out of your mouth. “I…I was so good, better than I have been in years, but last night and this morning, it was one thing after another and I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop my mind from going there and it was all I could think about and I…I don’t want to think like that anymore. I don’t wanna be that person anymore.”

“Last night,” Hoseok softly repeated. What had he done the night before, a night that he had thought was so perfect, that was able to nearly cripple you this morning? The idea that he hurt you without even knowing it made him clench down on the inside of his cheeks.

You shook your head, knowing that you weren’t saying it right, implying that it had been his fault when it hadn’t. “While you were gone, I was showering and I…it’s so fucking stupid, but I saw my reflection and your note saying you were at the gym I just, I just started comparing myself to you. You’re always working out, doing what you can to stay fit and it was like years of self-hatred suddenly came back, reminding me of how gross I was, how fat I am and I couldn’t stop it…it was like once it came back it wasn’t going to leave and I – ”

Except you didn’t get to finish. Between the tears once again clogging your throat and Hoseok yanking you back to his chest, his shoulders shaking as he started crying because there was no way in hell he was able to hold it in anymore. The words died off, but you both knew where it was heading.

The fabric of his shirt that you wore wrinkled under his hands, the soft fabric of the towel that he wore grazed your legs. How it hadn’t managed to come undone from all the moving around was a tiny thought that stuck inside your brain.

“Don’t.” Hoseok’s arms tightened around you, almost painfully, but his grip was in only one arm as the mattress dipped underneath your bodies, and the next thing you knew he was pulling you to sit on his lap as he sat up with his back against the headboard. His eyes were rimmed red, cheeks flushed. There wasn’t a time where you recalled being able to compare his eyes to an ocean. Not until now at least.

His chest was heaving as he leaned his head back against the wood with a soft thump, bottom lip trembling while trying to form together something to say. Words. He needed words. “I…you never…not once did you say anything to me.”

“Because I was good when we met,” you cried. “I hadn’t been doing anything, and I’ve been so good this entire time, but this morning it was like…like I was suddenly drowning in it because it’s always been like this, always coming in waves. And I wanted to start it all over again.”

Despite how much it hurt, how hungry it made you, there was that painful satisfaction of seeing the numbers go down on that evil scale. To be able to wear the clothes that you never could before. The way your stomach aches and cries out at one, two in the morning yet you deny it the simplest thing it wanted, because for a period of time, you were the one in charge. You had control over what was happening in your life and it…it was fucking addicting.

“But you’re already so small.”

The tears had slowed down, always slipping down his cheeks faster when he thought of how long you’ve been hurting, and he had never known.

Bottom lip trembling, somehow, you managed the weakest of smiles, voice cracking as you spoke. “I know.”

You always had been, but the reflection you saw in the mirror, never was real. For years you were purging yourself of a you that never once existed.

The person that Hoseok saw when you thought he wasn’t looking, the one who gently swayed to her favorite music, who had a love affair with words and their meanings but more often than not forgot them. The woman he saw who, on their third date hurried him over to the park to watch the fireflies dance in the night sky because they were the only type of bugs that you liked, and the woman who he reached out for when waking up first thing in the morning even if he hadn’t spent the night at your apartment, was not the same one that you saw.

You saw a version of yourself that you hated, so much so that the only way you would be happy with your reflection, was to destroy yourself.

Instead of speaking, Hoseok simply hugged you tightly to him, resting his head against yours as he felt you curl yourself around him. To say that this wasn’t how he had pictured this morning to go was a mild statement, but as he left a gentle kiss on your shoulder, he simply wanted to love you, and show you what it was like to be loved.

Time ticked by slowly, but when Hoseok finally lifted his head off yours, the tears had stopped falling leaving his eyes itchy and dry. He barely glanced at the clock on his nightstand. Instead, his gaze went to the black jewelry box he had set there. With everything that’s happened, he forgot that he had even picked it up.

“It’s – it’s not my place to tell you what to think,” he softly said, reaching over to retrieve the box. He felt you shifting and knew that you were watching him, a glance at you showed the curious frown you wore. “But I think you’re wrong. To me, you’re not gross. You’re not overweight. Ever since that blind date, six months ago, you’re the only woman who I care about.”

Without any ceremony, he held the box out for you to take, gently smiling and nodding when you looked up at him as if to ask if it really was for you.

Carefully, you opened the lid, feeling your heart nearly collapse at the sight of the necklace that delicately laid a bronze gold heart on the white fabric. On the side sat a tiny firefly, and in the center in elegant cursive read, ‘You’re the reason why my heart beats.’

“I love you,” Hoseok finally confessed. Lifting a hand, he brushed the hair back out of your face, his fingers gently grazing your cheek as he did so. “All I want is for you to be happy, love. You mean the world to me, and I want to help you through this. To me, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world and I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, but now that I know that’s not what you see, then I’ll help you. So that one day, you might be able to see what I see. Whenever that may be.”

His image blurred once more. Instead of hiding your face from him, or wanting to get away in general, you reached up to pull him down for a kiss despite the tears. Each one was short and sweet, but like an addiction, you kept going back for just one more.

Even if he didn’t understand it completely, or maybe he did, but he was willing to learn to help, because that wasn’t a life you wanted anymore. You just…you just didn’t know what to do, or how to do it by yourself. Not when those leeches were able to corrupt such an amazing night in seconds.

Hoseok wasn’t one to break away from a kiss but this time, he leaned back to take the necklace from you, undoing the clasp and hooking it on for you. The heart rested right in the middle of your chest. Right where it belonged.

“Now, I know I promised to not bring home any work,” Hoseok said, gently wiping away a few stray tears on your cheek. “But I remember you talking about getting that tattoo done one day. If you want, I can do it for you.”

“I never decided where though.”

His eyes softened. “I heard someone talking about this thing called the butterfly project. The idea is to draw a butterfly in the place where you’d hurt yourself, and by having it there, it’s supposed to help stop those urges. Maybe…maybe we can do something like that.”

The room fell silent.

You had been wanting to get your fireflies tattooed for years now. They were a favorite reminder of a simpler time. When the world was kind and beautiful and not harsh like you had painfully learned it to be. Sitting here with Hoseok, he served as the reminder that despite the hurt, there was always hope nearby. Whether it was from him, the world, or even deep within yourself.

Hope and love had a funny way of coming together in the darkest hours of our lives.

The tattoo gun buzzed loudly in the kitchen.

Hoseok pressed his lips together, eyebrows pulling in concentration as his gloved hands skillfully moved the machine while he began the process of outlining the cluster of fireflies on your thigh. When this was all over, there would be fireflies flying around at dusk on your body forever.

It was something you loved, in a spot that you passionately disliked, but even now you smiled. Because how could you look at something you loved with hatred?

None of this was going to be easy. Gazing at Hoseok, a small smile appeared. Perhaps he felt your gaze on him, but as he lifted the gun to wipe the area, he glanced up at you. A soft smile instantly appeared.

This wasn’t going to suddenly fix things. That was far from the truth. But that was okay because in reality, that was life. There was the good, the bad, and everything in between that got thrown at you.

Life isn’t perfect, but with Hoseok…it felt like it was.

267 notes · View notes

celestialdr · 4 years

Text

My Script

So I’m posting up my script here if anyone's interested. This is for my main DR in the D:BH Universe.

It’s kinda long.

*WARNING: very self indulgent.*

Intro

My DR is set in the D:BH universe. In Detroit, 2039. I am a young Detective at the DPD.

All events that happened in my play trough of DBH happen in this reality. EG. Markus = Peaceful Revolution. Kara= Her, Alice and Luther all escape to Canada together. Connor = Becomes Deviant.

Hank and Connor become like father and son. Connor moved in with Hank after the events of DBH.

I have been working at the DPD as a detective for about a year now, I was very excited to be working alongside my dear friend Trey Greene (OC), who actually ended up being my partner. We do almost every investigation together.

During my time at the DPD I have become fast friends with Hank and Chris. Gavin is okay, we joke and banter but I wouldn’t say we are buds. I disliked his attitude towards Hank and his dislike of androids. But if he changes, who knows, maybe we can be friends. Idk.

I always supported android rights, even before there where deviants. I always treated androids with kindness and compassion.

I first met Connor on the 6th of November 2038, back before he was deviant. I was always kind to him and had a fondness for him. When Connor first saw me he stopped for a minute in a miniature awe, the stereotypical love at first sight motif. Although he did not know it at the time - him not being deviant yet. A software instability entered his program upon seeing me. In fact, anytime we made eye contact or talked he got a software instability. It baffled him.

The first time he saw me after deviating he was hit with butterflies, it didn’t take too long to realize what it was, he had a huge crush on me. He kept it to himself but Hank knew immediately.

It is now January the 8th 2039, Connor and I have become quite good friends but his feelings for me only continue to grow. We've only known each other for 2- 3 months but Connor is falling in love fast and now he's decided to finally pluck up the courage and admit his feelings to me and ask me out. How will he do this? I don’t know yet.

______

World

After the events of DBH, Androids start getting rights, relatively quickly.

Laws are implemented to protect androids. Androids are free. They can own property, get paid for working and all of the things Markus was advocating for.

As time goes on Androids fully integrate into our society and we mostly live in peace. Hate crime of any kind is rare.

Android politicians start to pop up. Android Pride day exists. Androids can marry each other and humans. Android/Human relationships are normalised. Androids can adopt. Etc.

_______

Shifting

1 hour - 1 day

. While I am in my DR my clone is sleeping in my CR.

. I have a Healthy attachment to my DR and I recognise the importance of my CR.

. I remember everything from both realities vividly while I'm in the other unless I script otherwise.

· I can fully trust my clone. My clone acts identical to me.

· When I shift back to my current reality time stops in my DR. The next time I go to my DR everything continues where I left off.

· I can use the LIFA app in my DR to see what my clone is doing in CR.

· I only shift back to my CR when I want to, I can’t go back on accident.

· My safe phrase for coming back to my CR is “I want to go back to my Current Reality.” or even as simply as I make it my intention, then I can go back.

· Nothing traumatic happens to me in my DR.

· When I come back to my CR, I will remember everything that happened in my DR.

· When I shift, I wake up in my DR bedroom.

· When I am shifted I smell cinnamon and my eyes automatically open.

· I cannot die or get very hurt in my DR.

. I am able to fully Integrate Into my DR self’s life. e.g. Rembering my DR self’s past, feeling comfortable and normal talking to and interacting with people in my DR selfs life. Having all the skills and knowledge my DR self has.

. No one from my CR or other realities can enter my DR without my permission.

.My guardian Angel or one of my angels or guides from my DR has decided to help me shift. Whenever I try to shift in this reality the Angel assits me and pulls my CR self into My DR.

_______

About Me

I have the same name, b-day etc but I am 25 Years old.

Childhood and teen years, pretty similar to CR.

Everything is pretty much the same except added skills talents or whatever else I script.

Physical

· I Look like myself but 10x prettier.

· I have my dream body, which always stays perfect and in shape. Similar to my body type only toned and fitter.

· I have perfect, white straight teeth.

. I always have good breath.

· I always smell great - My sweat doesn’t smell.

· Low, silent gas that doesn’t smell.

· I usually smell like ‘Soap and Glory’ products.

· I have Beautiful hair that is easily maintained. My hair is also a slightly lighter blonde.

· I have my Ideal, natural eyebrows.

· I have soft, clear skin and I am slightly tanner than in my CR.

· I am beautiful from all angles.

· I have long eyelashes.

· I have a straight, cute nose.

· I always have good hygiene.

· I never gain weight when I don’t want to, my body is always slim and never bloated.

· If I ever get pregnant, after having my baby, my body goes quickly back to the way it looked before.

· I don’t have to shave too often.

· If I ever decide have a baby, my pregnancy will be safe and my child will be safe. It will be born happy and healthy.

· I have perfect senses.

· I can be fully functional with little sleep.

· I have good stamina and am physically fit.

· I still have my accent.

· I have a naturally beautiful face with and without make up.

· My make-up sits perfectly on my face and stays all day until I take it off.

· My make-up never runs.

· I always have nicely manicured nails.

· I always look well groomed.

Health

· I have high pain tolerance.

· My period only lasts two days and doesn’t hurt too bad.

· I can only get pregnant if actually wanting too.

· I am always safe.

· I am divinely protected at all times.

· I am well rested and perfectly healthy.

· I can think clearly.

· I have good mental health - maybe went through similar mental health issues when I was younger but now am perfectly healthy and able to cope.

· I do not scar.

· I heal fast.

· 𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝖾 too overly 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 to my DR and I will not get any trauma.

· I eat healthy, and enjoy healthy foods.

· I drink plenty of water

· I have balanced chakras, Good intuition and I radiate love and light.

· I can easily communicate with angels.

Skills

· I am a skilled detective. I know exactly what to do and I have all required skills.

· I am an excellent shot.

· I have excellent fighting and self-defence skills.

· I have high intelligence.

· I'm never badly hurt in the line of duty. Extremely lucky (like domino in dp2.) If I ever get hurt in DR its only minor. No one is suspicious about it.

· I'm a good writer.

· My art skills are always better in my DR than in CR.

· I have a good memory and deduction skills. Good reasoning skills.

· I am socially confident and charismatic.

· I am an excellent speaker.

· I am good at reading people.

· I give good advice.

· I am a good friend.

· I am a great kisser and fantastic in bed.

· I am hard working and have lots of patience.

· I'm a great singer and can play piano, guitar.

· I know French and Irish.

· I know how to drive.

· I'm really good at make-up.

· I'm really funny.

· People easily trust me.

Life

· I have all knowledge my CR self has.

· I had a relatively easy life.

· I come from a wealthy family.

· I am always full of motivation and energy.

· I have an amazing closet full of clothes, including both new clothes and my CR self's clothes.

· I have all of my current realities belongings. (Well, the stuff that I want with me.)

· I have a ton of art supplies.

· I live in my own house which I can afford with ease.

· I have a cute golden retriever called Bailey who is okay alone in the house while I'm at work.

· Bailey is a year old and is fully trained.

· I have a nice car that is self-driving.

· I have a good phone with the LIFA app

· I get to travel to cool places on holidays/vacation.

· While I'm in my DR I don’t confuse my CR's past with my DR's.

· All my fave shows, music, movies are also in my DR.

· I have lots of friends and make friends easily.

· I remember my past in the DR and can reference it with ease.

· I never have to kill as a detective, I can always disarm or find another solution.

· I won't get fired from my job.

· I'm good at my job and I know how to do my job well.

· Trey is my partner and our desks are beside each other.

· I'm also friends with Chris and Hank.

· My friends are always there for me. My friends care about me.

· Money comes to me easily and effortlessly.

· I am a really great at manifesting what I want in my DR.

· People I don’t want to, won’t die or get very hurt.

· People from my DR never notice if I'm not there because when I’m not there, my clone takes my place. (Although I probably won't use my clone too often because I plan to pick up where I left off most of the time.)

· I know all passcodes and important numbers of my DR self's life. E.g. Passwords, phone numbers, etc.

·I have a Spotify/ (or whatever the equivalent to it is in this reality) filled with music that I like. Maybe some of the playlists that I have in CR.

· I'm quick at picking up skills.

· If I ever decide to change career in my DR, I can do so with ease and get whatever job I want.

· I have nice, tidy handwriting.

Family

I come from a wealthy family. We moved from N.I. to America - Detroit in 2025. (Moved Because dad was offered a great job.) *family all have our green cards.*

Family is friends with Carl Manfred.

A very loving, healthy and supportive family.

* In my actual script I go into more detail about my family. but i’ll give you a brief rundown. I chose to shift to a reality with a different family from my CR family because I thought if I had a different family and friends it will give me more of a reason to come back to my CR. So I can have balance? idk...*

My DR dads name is Patrick, DR mums name is Mary and my DR brothers name is Lucas.

Family support and are okay with my relationship with Connor because they recognise androids as living beings.

Last but Not least! Bailey!

Bailey is my one year old Golden retriever. She is very well trained and is an absolute angel. She also really loves Connor.

House

I live in a 1 bedroom, 1 bath house with Bailey. *In my actual script I stuck in a bunch of pictures of a house I built in the sims 4.*

Friends

So, I'm not going to go through all the friends I scripted on here but I’ll tell you about my best friend from my DR. My partner from work, Trey Greene. He’s 27, a leo (like me) and gay. (I honestly made my entire friend group LGBTQ+ LOL)

I may have also scripted that jenna marbles is there and shes my friend lol.

Connor

*Okay now to the real reason I'm shifting, the love of my life.*

Connor falls in love with me the moment he sees me. Although he may not understand what it is at first because he hasn’t deviated yet. When he fully deviates he realises his feelings. He's a little shy about it at first but eventually asks me out. We date and fall in love and end up in a loving healthy relationship. We respect each other's boundaries and are completely in love. Like stereotypical soulmates.

Connor is very romantic and affectionate. Literally like a prince charming.

When we get together we are in a healthy relationship and both of us are completely faithful. I can trust Connor fully because I know he is trust worthy and always has my best intentions at heart.

. We have similar love languages.

. Connor is super-duper romantic and calls me sweet names like "My love."

. Much Like me in this DR, Connor is completely protected and safe with extremely good luck.

After the events of DBH and Connor is deviant. Amanda and cyberlife no longer have any control over him.

NSFW warning - Skip to Lifa if your not comfy.

Connor's model was created fully equipped with regular male genitalia (which is about 7 inches.)

He is very vocal in bed and is great at dirty talk. He can do loving romantic sex and also kinky rough sex too.

Lifa

Lifa is an app on my smart phone that only I have access to. Others don’t notice it. (like hidden in plain sight.)

It can only be noticed by others if I decide I want to show it to someone.

Lifa allows me to script while in my WR. It also allows me to see myself in CR.

Lifa updates me when its nearly time for me to wake up or reminds me when. As if it's like a timer.

Lifa doesn’t require internet. It has maps on it. I can look at my money and add to my money if I so wish. (if I add money it doesn’t ruin the economy.) idk magic lol

I can also access in online on a computer or tablet or any device that carries the internet.

No one else can use it unless I specifically allow it.

I will be alerted by this app if my clone wakes up.

I always have my phone near me. I can never lose it. Its also always fully charged.

If I get a new phone. Lifa automatically downloads on it and deletes off the old phone.

MISC.

· When androids deviate they are able to feel pleasure, touch, etc.

· Androids actually do have souls and are actually a new life form.

· After revolution CyberLife starts to create things for androids like upgrades. E.G. Taste, ability to do almost everything humans can.

· Most people are environmentally conscious.

· The earth is healing and people are taking better care of the planet. A lot more environmentally conscious options.

· The ocean, air, atmosphere and earth are all 70% cleaner than in CR.

· Racism, homophobia, sexism are quite rare. Ultimately society frowns upon such things.

· Humans and Androids live in peace

· Shortly after the revolution, Kamski got repointed as CEO of Cyberlife. Cyberlife now focusing on the needs of Androids and helping them adjust into the world.

· Youtube still exists and is relevant.

· Bagel Bean and Boojum exist in Detroit and aren't too far from my home. (These are food places back at where I'm from that are bomb.)

· No crisis with bees.

. The Police and justice system are reformed.

· No threats of ww3.

· I don’t live too far from work.

· All the videogames I like still exist, (except for dbh obvs.)

· We can buy Cadburys and Pujana tea in America. (Things I like in the UK.)

• Food in US is similar to food in UK. e.g. same food laws and food that is actual tasty / healthy. LOL

(sorry, I've been to America and the food there tastes weird, man.)

Future

Now that the androids have rights, Cyberlife has to free all active Androids. Eventually they get around to RK900. Cyberlife only created one RK900 as a prototype before the revolution.

The RK900 goes by the name Nines. He ends up working in the DPD. (Months later.) It takes a while for Nines to deviate but he eventually does. Nines is rather stoic but he is nice. Him and Connor have a brotherly bond. Nines becomes friends with me, Connor, Hank and Trey. (Part of our little found family.)

In the future, when Connor and I are both ready we get married and have kids (either through adoption or sperm donation or maybe they find a way for androids to have kids in the future, idk?)

In the future me and Connor buy our dream house together.

So, Yeah that's what I've scripted so far. I keep one script on my PC and one in a notebook under my bed.

Feel free to use any ideas or concepts from my script

#shiftblr #reality shifting

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 3 years

Text

Chapter Thirty-Four: The Revelation

Rated PG-13 For mentions of abuse, trigger topics such as suicidal thoughts, torture, language, and kidnaping.

Masterlist

~I am not the only traveler

And then I can tell myself

I had all and then most of you

When the night was full of terrors

There aren't very many things worse than watching one's little brother die. I think the only thing worse than that is enduring it twice. I had already had to watch Jasper be slaughtered like a pig in front of me. Wasn't that torture enough for a lifetime? Was having to salt and burn my own brother the universe's twisted idea of a joke? This wasn't funny!

What kind of cruel world was I living in? Why did my last words to my precious little brother have to be empty promises? How was that okay? Jasper would spend the rest of eternity waiting for me to show up, tell him my stories, and tuck him into bed, but I never would. Because if I lived, I would be stuck down here on this awful planet, reliving the same day over and over and over again. And if the Winchester's decided to kill me when they found out what I was, then I wouldn't be going to heaven. I already knew where I would go. It wasn't anywhere good.

Well, if my life was a joke then I hoped at least somebody was getting a kick out of it.

I knew I wasn't.

From the top of the stairs, I heard Sam, Dean, and Cas open the sliding glass door and shuffle outside. Jack firmly insisted on staying here. He probably thought he should stay in case I ' needed him ' for comfort or something.

'Well, joke's on you, puppy, cause I don't need anyone.' I thought, bitterly. I traveled down the dark hallway to my room, the one with the plain white door all the way down on the end. The door opened with a soft click and squeaky hinges and I kicked it shut behind me.

My room was exactly how I had left it. Not a single thing was out of place. Of course, it was about as far away from immaculate as anything can get. There were pieces of paper strewn all over the desk, plenty of wadded-up sketches in the trash can and even more outside the trash, pencils were left in strange places, and mix-matched fairy-lights draped over way too many things. Miscellaneous articles of clothing were draped over a chair, clustered around the laundry basket, crumpled on the bed, and a few were even hanging from the doorframe of the closet. The bed wasn't made, the blankets and sheets hopelessly tangled together and there was an atrocious number of glow-in-the-dark stars glued to the roof. Oh, and let us not forget the rainbow-colored streamers hanging from the ceiling fan, so really everything was just an absolute mess.

But it was a comforting mess and that's how that girl who used to be me had lived. She had been a scatterbrained, messy-haired, and bright-eyed sort of girl, she'd had so much potential. That girl could have great. Her mess comforted me too. Maybe she wasn't as dead as I'd thought.

"Well, I'm just about done with this whole damn popsicle-stand of existence. You?" Isaac asked, sounding more dead than he looked.

"Done," I agreed. "So, so done."

I flopped down on my already messy bed, staring up at the tacky stars on the ceiling while I tried to come to terms with the fact that I'd never see my little brother again. I couldn't feel the prickling of tears forming in my eyes. I guess I'd run all out of tears to cry. Lucky me. I felt like throwing up.

"Should we go down fighting or give up and roll over? What say you?" Isaac collapsed at the foot of my bed.

"What's the point in fighting?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Dunno." He shrugged. "Frequent flyer miles?"

"So... Nothing?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Maybe I would just attack the Winchesters once I tore Felix to sheds. Maybe they wouldn't kill me fast. Maybe they'd make me suffer. Then maybe I could cry like I was supposed to.

I had hardly been debating those thoughts for a minute when I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. Oh, joy. Five minutes of peace was all I'd asked for and apparently I couldn't even get that. Screw my life.

The door flew open with an overly dramatic bang but I didn't flinch. Jack stood in the doorway, eyes alight like molten gold. I turned my head lazily to face him, aware of my void expression but ultimately indifferent to it. I couldn't even bring myself to act like the fake version of myself I had made to fool the Winchesters. I felt oddly numb like nothing mattered. Because honestly, what did? Not even getting my revenge on Felix would change anything. Things wouldn't get better, my life would still suck to an astronomical degree, and this whole stupid world would just keep turning like it always did. Getting revenge was just self-indulgence, really. So what if Jack saw the real me for a couple of hours?

With luck, I'd be dead by morning.

With luck, he'd be the one to kill me.

I deserved it.

"Welcome to the year Nineteen-Thirty, puppy. What do you want?" I addressed him. My tone was clipped, calloused, and cold, but I didn't care.

Jack's eyes were glowing and the air was charged with his power; it made my hair stand on end and my ears hurt like when a plane takes off. Yet, oddly enough, if there and been one in my hand, I would have been swirling chocolate milk in a wine glass for all I'd cared.

Jack didn't answer me. His mouth opened and closed and opened and closed. There was something in his eyes, something akin to desperation. He knew what he wanted to say but the words died in his throat.

"You deaf, honey-bug?" I lifted an eyebrow and took an actual glance at his expression. He didn't look angry. He looked...

Terrified.

And shocked.

And torn.

And betrayed.

I did this. It was me. I had hurt him.

His hands clutched an object tightly between them with enough force to turn his knuckles white. It was a picture frame. I caught a glimpse of the picture within; it had been taken two weeks to the day I'd died. I looked back up to his eyes.

Ah, yes. There it was. The recognition. What a clever, clever boy.

He'd finally put all the pieces together.

'Well, good for him.'

"Uh, oh spaghetti-oh's; looks like the Nephil knows," Isaac droned from the foot of my bed.

"What are you?" Jack asked, his voice trembling. He blinked back tears, biting down on his lower lip to keep it from trembling.

I blinked, feeling sick. I didn't want to lose him, I realized. As much as the bitterness inside me tempted me to bite into him and taste his sweet blood or tell him the truth and watch him squirm just for a distraction from the pain, I couldn't. Because then I'd lose him. I didn't want to lose him. I'd already lost Jazzy today for the second time, I couldn't lose Jack too.

Isaac turned to me, his expression as empty as mine. "Ya gonna tell him?"

"I am Miss. Nidsbit," I answered, flatly. It was supposed to sound friendly like I was teasing, but it only came off as evasive. Jack glared at me. It was already happening; I was already losing him. I guess I deserved that much.

"Don't joke," He said.

"I thought it was hilarious," Isaac chimed.

"In that case, I'm bottled-depression." I flashed my teeth in a way that held no joy whatsoever. "Pint-sized for your convenience," I added, trying for a familiar joke about my height. It sounded empty.

"That was better," My brother snickered, leaning back and closing his eyes. He was probably just going to keep making sarcastic jabs in an attempt to vent his anger, so I ignored him.

"I asked you a question," Jack growled in a way that somehow managed to be threatening despite the whole baby-face puppy-eyed thing he had going on. It was actually kinda hot... Wait, what? When had that happened?

"And I answered you." I sat up. Why did I sound so bitter? Why couldn't I change it? My eyes flicked down to Jack's throat without my permission. His skin looked so soft and I realized I was suddenly famished. My throat burned and desire reared its ugly head inside me. Isaac's voice snapped my attention back to reality.

"Oh dear, Marty. You made the Nephil sniffle."

Jack clenched his teeth and hissed, seemingly bothered by the fact that I wasn't afraid of him. He wouldn't hurt me, right? No, he would. He would hurt me if he knew. If he knew what I wanted to do to him. I wanted him to hold me as he had a few days ago but I wanted to sink my teeth into him at the same time. I deserved to die.

"What are you?" He repeated, taking a step forward. He would hurt me. Good.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied, my voice inflectionless. Wandering towards my dresser I started fiddling with some meaningless piece of junk. Anything for a distraction from his soft throat and thrumming pulse. Jack's glowing eyes followed me.

"Y-you're lying," He said. He was trying to sound strong, but there was something broken in his tone.

"Ya think?" I deadpanned. Jack swallowed thickly; his hand shot out to grab my wrist, eyes fading back to their soft blue.

"This isn't funny, Marty. Stop." His eyes pleaded with me. I eyed his hand.

"Or what?" I challenged. What would he do to me? He looked me in the eyes, frowning and moving closer to me. He needed to step away. I caught my gaze drifting to his neck again but I couldn't stop.

"I really don't want to hurt you," He said.

'Then don't make me tell you.' I thought. His eyes searched my face for any glimpse of his friend, but that girl had never been real, not really anyway. I had made her up.

I wished I could go back in time. Back to the night we met. We could do it all over again and maybe, if I had another chance, he wouldn't figure it out. Maybe it would've been better if I'd never come with Jack in the first place. I wished we could go back to the night we met. Then I could have said no. If I hadn't come with him, I never would have hurt Jack like this. If he had never touched me then I would never have had to feel this pain. If I could just go back.

"And you won't," I said, taking a chance.

Jack huffed, his expression pained.

"This is freakin' five-star entertainment," Isaac mused, resting his chin on his fist, observing Jack and me.

"Please, Marty," Jack begged in a whisper. His sweet-smelling breath was warm as it washed over my face. His eyes flicked down to my lips but only for a split second. No, no. Anything but that. "Just tell me the truth."

'You already know it.'

"I have," I lied. Everything kept coming out wrong! I sounded emotionless like I didn't care but I did! Jack's soft expression melted into one of betrayal.

"So, you're just going to lie?" He asked. "Right to my face?"

I didn't have control over what slipped from my lips next.

"Says the Devil's kid."

"Ooh! One point to the Marty!" Isaac laughed.

Jack stared at me like he was heartbroken. Then his eyes narrowed into a glare, lighting with gold as he released my wrist and moved his hand to seize my throat. He whirled us around and slammed me into a wall with more force than I'm sure than he intended to use. Not that I couldn't take it. Without so much as a flinch, I tilted my head as much as I could with Jack cutting off my air supply.

"Tell me what you are!" He shouted. There was desperation there.

"That's quite the grip ya got there, puppy," I taunted, rasping. He loosened his grip but only slightly, holding the picture of my family up for me to see, the corner was dated January 8th, 2014.

"You said they died five years ago. This picture- it was taken five years ago! You said you were nine then! But y-you - you weren't!" Jack's eyes were wide, almost crazed as he glanced from the girl in the picture and back to me. He knew the truth; he just didn't want to believe it. His voice softened. "You haven't aged a day. Five years and you haven't aged a day."

My voice was soft and it wasn't just from the lack of air. "I aged about a month, actually."

Jack let go of my throat like I was burning him, shaking his head as he backed away like a frightened animal. As well he should. He was the prey here and I did want to kill him. But I wanted him to hold me again even more. "Y-you're one of them..." He whispered.

'Don't leave me. I'm sorry, just don't leave me!' I thought desperately, but that wasn't what came out. I felt trapped in my own skin, the monster inside me taking over, fed by my own bitterness.

"I'd say something along the lines of 'say it out loud' but I'm pretty sure that would have copywrite issues," I said, shrugging and moving back to sit on my bed. Jack watched me carefully.

"Felix - h-he turned you. He made you just like him - a vampire... You're a monster!" He spat the word like it was snake-venom.

And it hurt. It hurt so freaking bad. It was like I had lodged a knife in my own chest years ago and now Jack was twisting it.

'I know I am.' I wanted to say.

"Well that's a harsh way of putting it. But I've been called worse." I brushed it off like I didn't care like it wasn't that deep like I wasn't bleeding to tell him how sorry I was. I lowered my head in shame.

"I-I have to tell Sam and Dean," Jack said, shifting onto the balls of his feet, edging towards the door. He was going to make a run for it. Suddenly, I was in control of my body again.

I couldn't let him. I needed more time. I needed to beat Felix first and then they could all find out. I had to fix this. I could still fix this.

I had made Jack forget once.

I could do it again.

I would take us back in time. Before he knew. Make everything right. Take us back to the night we met.

He had to forget.

"I can't let you do that," I spoke softly, my gaze still focused on my feet.

"Are you going to try to kill me?" He asked accusingly.

"No." I shook my head. No, I could never kill him. I was too selfish for that. He deserved someone so much better than me. But I loved him.

"Then what are you going to do?" Jack shifted closer to the exit.

"Isaac," I glanced at my brother out of the corner of my eye. Jack stiffened, his eyes snapping to where mine went. "Get the door."

"On it!" Isaac said, overly eager. Jack bolted but he was too slow. My brother flicked his wrist and the door swung closed with a click. Jack swallowed thickly and glanced back to me, fear filling his features. I knew what he was going to try next.

'This is necessary. One day I'll be sorry.'

"His wings," I said to Isaac, my voice breaking. Isaac grinned widely and reached out, making a pinching motion. Jack froze in a panic, then he clenched his eyes shut groaning as Isaac twisted his hands just a bit.

"Can I rip 'em off?" He asked, basking in the Nephilim's pain.

"Isaac, no!"

"Oh, come on," He twisted his hands even more and Jack cried out, his innocent face twisting in agony. "Just a little?"

"Stop! Just-" I sighed. "Please, don't hurt him, Isaac. Just keep him still, please."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Oh, fine!" He let go and Jack fell to the ground, panting and shaking. He did his best to get to his feet but Isaac flung him into a wall, pinning him there. "Go ahead and Obliviate the simp."

I stood and stepped towards Jack, slowly and carefully, trying not to scare him any more than I had. I could tell he was trying desperately to move but Isaac was too strong.

"What are you going to do?" Jack demanded, trying to hide the fear in his voice. "Are you going to drink my blood?!"

I froze.

Because I could. Then, I could make him forget.

I glanced at his throat. My fangs ached to come out - to bite. I could imagine what it might feel like to bury my teeth in that soft, delicious-smelling skin. I could imagine what he might taste like. He'd be sweet like candy. I could be gentle! Maybe if he could somehow understand how badly I needed him then he'd let me. And he heals fast so he'd be okay.

But he wouldn't understand. And I wanted him to hold me again.

I just wanted Jack to hold me again.

"No," I said. I plucked the picture frame from his hands, gazing at the smiles of my family for a moment. I looked up, trying to smile despite the ache of grief and guilt in my chest. "I'm going to need you to forget this."

"I wish I could," Jack said, glaring at the floor. He couldn't even look at me. He couldn't even look.

I nodded. "You will."

"W-what?"

I sighed and moved over to the window. The crisp breeze blew in from the sea as I threw it open, the curtains billowing like vicious barking dogs on a leash. It was a long way down to the black rocks where the land met the ocean. I dropped the picture and watched it tumble until it smashed into the rocks, shattering that perfect picture frame, shattering my picture-perfect family into a million pieces.

"I can make you forget," I told him, over my shoulder. "Take us back to the night we met." The power inside me trilled with excitement; it wanted Jack, it craved him. Or maybe that was just the monster I was, begging to be unleashed. I turned away from the window, closing it as I did.

"What do you mean?" He asked cautiously. He was scared. He was so scared.

"I'm going to talk to you, and then you're going to forget, and everything will be back to the way it was." I would fix this. His arms would be around me as soon as I fixed this and everything would be okay. I hung my head and let the power inside me launch forward and wrap itself like chains around my Nephilim. I could feel his light, his grace, fighting back but it had nothing substantial to fight. My power wasn't physical, I just imagined it being so.

"No! W-wait!" Jack watched me with dread, beginning to feel the effects of what I was doing to him. I was locking his memories away, locking him up in his own head. But I had to. Because he wouldn't understand and I needed him.

"I have to do this," I whispered, digging my mental claws in deeper.

"Stop," He gasped, beginning to tremble with effort, "Whatever you're doing, just stop!"

"I can't stop, Jack. I'm sorry, but I just need a little more time," I said, gently. "Four moves and I win."

"Four moves..." He mumbled to himself, his brows furrowing, "Four moves? I-I've heard that before. Where have I heard that before?" Then he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut again.

"Please, just forget. I need you to forget."

'I need you to hold me again.'

"Get out of my head!" Jack's voice rose with panic. He flinched away from me as much as he could but Isaac kept him pinned and helpless.

"I'm gonna make everything okay again. I promise." I fought harder against him, willing my power to work faster. Jack moaned and I glanced up to see his face contorted with pain.

"Please!" He begged me, grimacing, "Please, stop! Marty, please. It hurts." I tried harder, and a choked sob escaped his throat. "Marty, please! It hurts! It hurts! You have to stop! Please!"

"I wish you hadn't found out, Jack, and one day I'll be sorry about this."

"Wait. Wait, no!"

I pushed my power harder than I ever had before.

A horrifying scream of pure agony ripped from Jack's throat. But the walls of this house were built to withstand hurricanes. I was the only one who could hear him. With one last burst of effort, I overpowered the walls of his grace and my power flooded his mind, wiping away any memories of what I was. His scream faltered into groans and those softened into whimpers and Jack's body went limp.

Isaac let go and the Nephilim collapsed but I caught him before his head hit the floor. Carding my fingers through his hair, I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Picking him up, I carried him to my bed and laid him there. He weighed more than I did, obviously, but he didn't feel very heavy to me. I laid down beside him, hugging him around the middle and pressing my face into his chest.

Then I finally cried.

"I hope you can forgive me before I'm sorry. Because I'm a liar and don't think I'll ever really regret this."

***

"You hear something?" Sam asked, perking up. Castiel sat dutifully on a large black bolder, watching the house. The angel flicked his eyes to Sam and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head before focusing back on the house.

"Hm? Uh, no." Dean hardly spared a glance. He was too busy drawing inappropriate words in the sand with his foot. Sam frowned.

"Weird." He shook his head, swallowing thickly as he paced back and forth across the moonlit sand.

"Martina threw a picture frame from her window and it shattered against the rocks approximately sixty-two feet south-east of where you are standing," Castiel informed him, "Perhaps that's what you heard."

Sam shook his head again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No, no. It, uh, it wasn't that. I just- I-I coulda' sworn I heard someone..." He trailed off. 'Scream,' He wanted to say. The sound had been like a phantom pain; intense yet insubstantial.

'Just like the visions...' Sam thought. But no. That wasn't possible. He hadn't had a vision or any manifestation of psychic abilities for going on twelve years! He was probably just imagining things. Sam pushed the thought away as soon as it had come. It was impossible... Right?

Yet still, his eyes wandered to the window on the upstairs floor of the dark house; the only window with a slim shaft of light peaking through the curtains. Because what if...

No .

No. Everything was fine, Jack would have alerted them if there was any danger - or at least - the brothers and their angel would've been able to see if Jack thought there was any danger. Judging by the lack of explosions, Sam could assume that everything was fine.

There was no trap here after all. Although, if he thought about it, that may have been the trap in itself. That monster called Felix had lured Marty back here to relive the most painful day of her life. There had been no vamps waiting to do her any physical harm, but Felix didn't need them to. He just wanted that poor, sweet, little girl to hurt.

And, boy was she hurting.

Sam knew how it felt to lose a brother. He knew how it felt to watch his brother die twice. Hell! Sam had watched Dean die more than one hundred times on the one hundred worst Tuesdays of his life. It had made him feel empty inside - hollow. Like somebody had scraped out everything inside of him, the good and the bad, and had left an utter nothingness in its place. And in the face of all that nothing, fear had gripped Sam's heart like a vice. Fear of that emptiness - of all the unspeakable things it made him willing to do. Sam had been willing - eager even - to do whatever it took if it meant filling that awful hole inside of him.

That was what scared him. It was that ruthlessness. It was that titanium will he'd always shied away from. It was when he'd looked into a mirror and seen John Winchester staring back at him. Deep down, that was what both Sam and Dean had always feared the most. Becoming their father. Becoming the shell of a man that had raised them.

Sam could see the beginnings of a similar shell-forming in Martina. He had seen it when they'd rescued her from that shed the week before. Her shell wasn't made of hate like John's had been - not completely at least. Marty's shell had come from grief and fear. She was just trying to hide; both from Felix and from the shell of a person that she was becoming. Jack had told Sam about Marty's memory gaps - about how she couldn't remember what had happened in the shed after she had left. Sam knew that traumatized people tend to blot things out, it was common. But things like the shed and her return to her childhood home could only serve to send Marty further into her shell.

And the last thing the world needed was another John Winchester.

"These kids were livin' a dream, aye Sammy?"

Sam frowned as Dean's mumbled words knocked him from his train of thought. "H-how do you mean?"

"I mean, look! They had everything!" He said, gesturing from the white sand of the beach to the black rocks to the brine woods. His tone and expression grew sober. "Just like a little fairy-tale. And, I mean, three psychics? Those kids - they had a lotta' potential. So smart and talented and now..." Dean trailed off with a frown.

"Yeah..." Sam quietly agreed. Dean turned to his brother with a pensive expression.

"Got me thinkin', maybe-" He sighed. It was hard for him to say and he didn't want to say it. Even though Dean knew that Marty was capable of more than she seemed and that she could affect his emotions, he didn't really care.

Well, he did care . Dean hated people screwing with his head or his feelings, period. But somehow Marty was different. He didn't really care to admit it, but Dean had always wanted a daughter. A sweet soul he could love and care for but definitely, with a badass side, he could bestow his knowledge upon. Claire was a close as he had gotten but she had already grown up and she didn't want his help. To Claire, Dean was only a painful reminder of all she'd lost.

And, of course, there was Emma.

But Dean didn't like to think about her.

Thinking about Emma was too painful.

But Marty was still young, and she didn't see Dean the way Clair did. Marty looked at Dean with hope in her eyes and he desperately wanted to keep it that way.

Jack had used to look at him that way. Jack didn't look at him like that anymore.

Because Dean had messed up with Jack. He could admit that now. He'd messed up and he'd messed up bad. Things had gotten better between them; little by little over time. But Jack hadn't even been five days old when Dean had promised to take his life. After that, Jack had only watched Dean with fear. Not hope. Just sheer friggin' terror on his face whenever the elder Winchester walked into the room. And though things had gotten better, they'd always have that promise between them.

That promise from the night when if Dean had only been a better person he could have made things better and not worse like he always did. (Because he was always making things worse. Always too selfish. Always screwing things up. Always getting people hurt. It was always him, always his fault.) Dean could've snatched that knife from Jack's hands and told him it was going to be alright even if it didn't seem like it would be. And Dean could've given the kid the kind of hug he should've been given the day he was born; a father's hug, just like Castiel would have given him if he'd been alive to do it. Because that was Cas's son. That was Cas's kid! Oh, God... Cas... How could Dean have let his best friend down so horribly? Cas, who had given everything up for him and his brother. Cas had saved them time and time again at his own expense. Cas, who would bleed every drop of blood he had with a smile on his face, all in the name of the Winchesters. How could Dean have betrayed him like that? It wasn't enough for Dean to just let the angel die! (It was Dean's fault, of course. It always was. How couldn't it be? He could have prevented it. If he'd just been a little faster or a little smarter.) No, he had to go and tear that innocent kid to pieces just cause he was sad. (So, selfish. How could he be so selfish? Why was he always so selfish?) Cas had trusted Dean with his son and Dean had repaid him with the promise to take Jack's life. No wonder Jack still could hardly bear to look Dean in the eyes. How could he? Dean wasn't meant to be a father to anyone. He was too frickin' selfish for that.

But this time, things would be different. This time around, Dean would be different - he would be better. For once in his life, he would be selfless and he'd do the right thing even if it possibly meant giving up his only chance to raise a little girl. Because, despite being tainted by darkness and tears, there was still so much good inside Martina Linville. She had so much potential, with the right chances, she could grow up to be great. But she would need those right chances and she wouldn't get them if she stayed with the Winchester's broken little family. All they brought to people was tears and death.

Dean didn't want that for her. She deserved better. Just like Dean himself and his brother had deserved better. She deserved to live a life free from all this pain - a good life, a happy life. Dean wanted that for her. Dean just wanted to help. That was all he'd ever wanted. The last thing Marty needed was more darkness in her life. She didn't need them in her life.

She didn't need him in her life.

So, Dean would be selfless and he would let her go and he would give her the chance to shine like the stars she loved so much. It was probably the most fatherly thing he could do for her. 'Cause Dean just wasn't cut out to be a Dad.

But, oh, did he wish he could be one. Even though he knew that Marty's empathic abilities were probably what was making him feel so strongly about her, Dean couldn't help but go along with it. It wasn't like she was stuffing thoughts in his head; his feelings may have been bolstered but Dean's mind was his own. Dean had always wanted a daughter, Marty hadn't made that up that wish, she'd just reminded him of it. He felt awful about how he had treated Jack and craved a chance at redemption for his mistakes; Dean had made those choices, all Marty had done was exist to give him a chance. Sure, she was rioting his emotions. But what did that matter? Because Dean wanted this and damn it! This felt real!

But he couldn't have it.

Because Dean, and his brother, and their angel, and - yes - even Jack -- it was all some sick, screwed up, god damn beautiful tragedy -- But they were the last thing Martina Linville needed.

So, Dean would be selfless.

"Thinkin' about what?" Sam's question shook Dean from his reverie and back to what he'd been meaning to say.

"Maybe we should put her into the system after all this," He said, thoughtfully, though there was regret in his tone also. Sam blinked twice, shaking his head.

"W-what? The system? You mean the foster system?" He asked, incredulously.

"Yeah? Something wrong with that?" Dean responded. Sam gaped at him.

"Is something wrong with that? Dean, everything is wrong with that!" He exclaimed. Dean opened his mouth to argue but Sam didn't let him. "We made Marty a promise! Just this morning you said she was part of the family. Was all that just talk?"

"No, but-"

"Then what the Hell was it, Dean? Because you can't just go back on something like that! We said we'd take care of her," Sam huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at his older brother.

"And that's exactly what we'd be doing," Dean argued, "Giving her a place that's safe."

"Who would take her in? She's fourteen and she's got more trauma than some war veterans, I don't-"

"Exactly!" Dean cut him off. "The kid's got issues! She needs help, the professional kind."

"Since when do you promote therapy? Sam scoffed.

"When it doesn't involve me," Dean grumbled. Sam shook his head, getting back to the point.

"Throwing her on a bunch of strangers with no clue what she's been through, and who couldn't possibly understand her even if they knew, isn't going to help her! She'd get tossed around or thrown into some group therapy home till she's eighteen and then they'd dump her back on the streets where we found her! How is that taking care of her?"

"It's getting her out of this life, Sam," Dean said firmly. Sam glared.

"You mean getting her out of your life," The younger brother spat lowly.

"What did you just say?" Dean asked dangerously.

"You heard me."

"You have somethin' ya wanna say to my face, Sammy?" Dean growled.

"Dean," Castiel said his name like a warning, his hand gripping Dean's shoulder, holding him back.

"Yeah, I do." Sam's nostrils flared and his mouth was pressed into a thin line. "I'm not gonna stand by and watch you do this again."

"Do what again?" Dean questioned, Cas' hand on his shoulder reminding him to keep calm.

"This thing you do. Anytime a kid comes along, you do this. You act all annoyed, then right as you start liking having 'em around something happens and you realize the responsibility and it freaks you out so you back off and you push 'em away."

"I don't do that," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah? 'Cause you did it with Kevin, you did it with Claire, you did it with Jack, and now you're doing it again right now with Marty. The second things get real, you get scared and you run away." Sam kept eye contact with Dean, challenging him to look away. Dean clenched his teeth, his pride preventing him from losing the contest of wills.

"Quit fooling yourself, Sam. Look at me!" Dean's voice broke just a little. But he cleared his throat, quick to cover his mistake. "Er, at us, I mean. We can't raise a kid!" He protested.

"We raised Jack," Sam countered.

"Because there were literally no better alternatives!" Dean seethed. Sam opened his mouth but Dean wasn't done. Hyperaware of Castiel's presence just behind him, guilt ate at his heart. But Dean had never been very good at apologies. "And I even screwed that up! I'm not Dad material, Sam. I'm just not!"

His outburst of emotion made Sam blink, rendering him momentarily speechless. He could have spoken his next words gently but pride made them come out like acid.

"I don't think that's what Ben thought," He hissed. Sam knew it was a low-blow bringing up Ben. That wound was still sore.

"Yeah?" Dean laughed but there was no humor in it. "WELL LOOK HOW THAT TURNED OUT!" He yelled. Sam tensed but didn't back off.

"Something isn't real because it lasts, Dean," Sam said, speaking just a little bit gentler now. "For however short a time, Ben had a dad that loved and cared about him. For however short a time, you made him happy. You say you're not dad material, but that's not what I saw. If that's what you're so worried about, then don't be. 'Cause you made an pretty awesome dad, Dean, even if Ben doesn't remember."

Dean sighed in defeat. "We have nothing to give her, Sam."

"We have trust and understanding, a-and that's more than some random foster home could give her."

Dean shook his head. "It doesn't have to be random."

"What do mean?"

"Jody," He suggested, "I mean, she's already got Claire and Alex. What's one more?"

Sam sighed through his nose, shaking his head. "Yeah, she's got Claire and Alex-" He paused giving his older brother a pointed look. "- And Patience and Kaia. What's one more? That's only five emotionally unstable teenage girls to take care of, on top of a full time job as a sheriff, and hunting to worry about too."

"I agree with Sam," Castiel spoke up, "We cannot simply dump yet another troubled youth onto the already burdened shoulders of Sheriff Mills." Sam gestured to the angel as if accentuate his point.

"But at least she'd be safe," Dean argued, pursing his lips into a thin line.

"From monsters, sure," Sam agreed, nodding. Dean could sense a ' but ' coming. "But not from herself."

"Jody could help Marty just as much as we could - probably more!" He said. Dean could hear Sam grind his teeth in frustration, but Cas held up a hand to speak.

"I don't think that's true, Dean."

"Why not?" Dean asked the angel.

"'Why not?' Haven't you been listening?" Sam exclaimed. Cas shot the younger Winchester a look and he fell silent.

"I am sure Sheriff Mills is a competent and kind woman; however, Martina does not know or trust her. Sending her to live there would only be marginally better than shipping her off to a stranger," The angel stated, evenly.

"What's that gotta do with what Sam said?" Dean asked. Cas gave him a long-suffering look but continued in perfect patience.

"As weary as I am of Martina's true motives and intentions, I think it is plenty clear the choice she faces after the termination of her family's killer. That is, if she has not made her decision already."

Dean's face scrunched with confusion. "What choice is that?"

"The choice of continuing to live free from the threat of Felix Monroe, or..." The angel trailed off, frowning. His tone made Dean feel like there was a knot in his chest.

"Or what?" He pressed, cautiously. Cas sighed.

"Or to end her life and return to her family," Cas finished, soberly.

Dean was stunned. He hadn't thought- He had never realized.

"Wait, whoa. Are you telling me Marty wants to commit suicide?" His eyes were wide with fear and alarm. She was too young for that. Too young to want to kill herself. No. She couldn't. Dean wouldn't let that happen. "Where's this coming from?" He demanded. Sam glared at him.

"She told her little brother she'd be with him soon. Combine that with the scars on her wrists, and it's really not that hard to figure out," He said, coolly.

Scars? Dean understood now. That was why she was always wearing long sleeves, even in the sweltering heat of Florida. Sam took advantage of his older brother's silence.

"Think about it, Dean," He pushed, "Sending her away from first people she's allowed herself to get attached to in five years? You think that will help?"

The thought made Dean reconsider but Sam had more to say.

"A-and think of Jack! You've seen how much he cares about her. I've seen him smile more in these last two and a half weeks than he did in the five months since we got him back from Apocalypse World. What do you think would happen if he found Marty laying in a pool of her own blood? What do you think that would do to him?"

"It would kill him." Dean sighed, nodding in agreement and Sam cracked a smile.

"I mean, we both know he loves her, Dean. And I-I don't mean like a sister," The younger brother said, fondly. Dean chuckled and the tension in the air cleared.

"Yeah, there's definitely a thing there." He shook his head, grinning. "I mean, it's totally weird but it's a thing." Sam nodded and shrugged.

"Well, I dated a demon. I don't think I can judge."

"You can say that again!" Dean laughed.

The sudden chime of a phone ringing cut through the cool nighttime air like a knife and Dean reached to answer. The smile dropped from his face as soon as he caught a glance at the screen.

"Who is it?" Castiel asked.

"Blocked," Dean answered, apprehension filling his voice, "Three guesses as to who." He mumbled, sliding a finger across the screen to pick up the call and putting it on speaker.

"This is Dean Winchester," He announced as the line connected.

There was no voice on the other side of the call.

"Hello?" He tried again.

Again nothing.

Dean could hear someone breathing but they didn't speak. The breaths sounded ragged and uneven like the person was out of breath. There was background noise as well, a deep rumbling that seemed to increase in volume as time wore on. Without warning, the sound of a deep bellowing horn blared from the phone's speaker. It was the sort of horn that typically accompanies a low rumbling noise. It was the sort of horn that accompanies a really, really big train. The sound of the horn grew louder but soon began to fade as the train passed by whoever had been holding the phone. Something told him this wasn't a simple case of a butt-dial. The situation unnerved for some reason he couldn't name. It was like a scene from a movie.

"Tell me who you are or I'm hanging up," Dean said, his voice demanding.

"I-I would'nt d-do that if I were y-you!" A desperate, ragged voice called from the phone. Dean had gotten it wrong. The person on the phone wasn't Felix. The person on the phone was a little girl and she wasn't out of breath. She was terrified.

"Why not?" He asked, cautiously.

"B-because little Pamala o-only get's this one c-call." The voice on the other end sounded oddly robotic despite the words being broken into syllables by the girl's sobs.

"What do you mean?" He wondered.

"She-she's lu-ucky you picked u-up. If you hadn't I'd have t-old my friends to e-eat swe-eet Pammy here! Sh-she's seven, just so you know!" The little girl choked out.

"Felix," Dean growled, "You're using the little girl to talk for you?"

"Pamala is a c-cute little pup-pet. But she's a-annoy-ing. If she d-doesn't stop s-stutter-ing, I'll tell one of my f-friends to t-ake a bite!" The little girl whimpered and took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice for the sake of her life. " So, what shall I make Panama say next?"

Dean gritted his teeth together. To his right, Sam looked like he was going to be sick. But this wasn't just sick, this was downright vile . On his left, Cas looked about ready to rip that monster apart with his bare hands.

"Why don't you talk to me with your own voice, Nessie? Ya scared?" Dean taunted.

"No. That would ruin the fun of the game." The girl spoke slowly, trying her best to stay calm.

"What game?" Castiel demanded, sounding a step away from livid.

"You hunters and your angel have thirty minutes to come and rescue poor, little Pamala. When time is up, I'll tell my friends to- to r-rip her in- into itty-bitty pieces!" The girl let out a panicked sob after finishing the monster's words.

"How are we supposed to do that?" Dean demanded, fuming. "She could be anywhere!"

"No, not anywhere, Dean. She's sitting all wrapped up in the attic of the Florida East Coast Railway Station at Fort Pierce. I might be there with her too, gives you a chance to catch me just to make things interesting. But you better hurry, I hear t-traffic can be a biatch."

"You're gonna pay for this, you son of a bitch!" Dean growled.

"Watch the language, Dean Winchester. There are children present. You don't wanna spoil little Pamala's innocence, do you?"

Dean was so enraged, he couldn't even speak. Luckily, Sam was thinking the same as he was.

"We're gonna kill you," Sam promised.

"Perhaps. But not before I show y-you the truth."

The truth? What truth?

"This call will end in...

Five...

Four..."

"Stay strong, sweetheart!" Dean called to the little girl on the other side of the phone. "We're gonna come help you!"

"Three...

Two...

One...

...

Please save me...

...

I don't wanna die..."

Then the line clicked and the call was over.

Dean clenched his jaw and put the phone away.

"Let's go gank that sick bastard."

~I am not the only traveler

And then I can tell myself

I had all and then most of you

When the night was full of terrors

Lyrics from: The Night We Met by Lord Huron

I had all and then most of you

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jennaalexandra · 3 years

Text

When you blame the food, you lose all your power

im about a week into hopping back on the intuitive eating bandwagon.

i already feel lighter, more energized, motivated, purposeful, and intentional with what I put into my body.

i worry that this is just a phase & that eventualky I'll go back to feeling out of control again... which leads to food obsessive thoughts, overeating, bloating, and feeling sick!!

but then, I begin to notice Old ways begin to creep back in. Here it goes, I thought.

but this time I applied the lessons learned from I tutive eating and an awesome life coach that helped me navigate out of those old ways and habits.

I noticed three things that happened today that normally would have triggered impulse food buys and overeating:

1. I was starving so I wanted to get a tuna sandwich at the coop. I havent had one in forever and they usually are a treat to me Even though the past couple of times didn't satisfy me. so here's what I did instead:

• gave myself permission to buy the sandwhivh eeven though last time it didn't taste good. I reminded myself that I have lots of food leftover and that perhaps I'm just feeling anxious. What if I honored my body and savings by making myself a delicious meal at home? I can always come back another day when I have less groceries. It will always be here (precenting scarcity)

2. I was Tempted to buy PB cereal bc it was on sale and I havent had it in a while. It tastes so good.

• I gave myself permission to buy it but reminded myself of how it made me feel in the past. Part of intuitive eating is respecting your body and how it feels after you eat. and, did it ever truly ever satisfy me? Not really!!! I reminded myself of the other options I have at home; i can always go back to get the cereal

3. BIG ONE. I ate a decadent dinner of quesadilland was proud that I stopped when I did. I noticed quite a few things here!!! 1. I at first wanted to keep going but I told myself I can, but how would giving my body some time before feeding more so I can let My anxiety calm down a little. I get anxious before a meal ends because it makes me sad, eso when it's yummy!!!i seriously waited 2 minutes and by min 2, I felt pretty full and actually the thought of eating more kinda grossed me out. ALSO! afterwards I wanted a new taste in my mouth and dessert. I had a couple pieces of chocolate and told myself this Is to clear my palette. If you want more later, you can! I was still feeling anxious for dessert. Sink pooped in two frozen cookies knowing I didn't completely over do dinner and prob wouldn't feel sick from a cookie This heinous my body. I reminded myself if after the cookie is ready I'm still to full, I can save it. A HUGE lesson my coach has taught me is to ASK WHAT I AM NEEDING BY LISTENING TO FEEDBACK.

**so I'm anxiouS... let's focus on that and not the food. Let's address the anxiety and not the food, let's curb the anxiety and not my cravings!!!

> what helps reduce my anxiety? (PUZZLES! Talking to friends, today, stretch. If I reduce my anxiety, I can feel my food and all my body and pleasure sensations! For when i eat dessert. I can also make decisions with a neural mindset!!! vs scarcity anxious mindedet which will normally lead to over eating

SO THE MAIN TAKE AWAY. it's not the food you're dealing with. It's the anxiety!! My gf teased me and said, "are you puzzling so you don't eat" I responded," no I'm doing the puzzle to calm my anxiety." why are you anxious? She asked. "Because I want dessert or some sort of unmet need met." "she laughed,

the thing here, is it's not the food! It's the anxiety!! Food is a coping mechanism for the anxiety. You keep using food it turns to habit. You stop using food and other tools and those become your new habit! Hopefully more aligned with self care and your goals!!!

ps. I still enjoyed the cookie, I still felt anxious before it was over. I thanked the anxiety. You're feeling anxious because with we're given a gift of something delicious!!! It's sad when it's over but im grateful I was given it in the first place. I'm glad I can enjoy this without overdoing or (tbc).

I'm glad I can enou this without over doing it or making myself sick. being Sad is good because it means I have something to be sad about. I experienced such a pleasurabke joy!!! I am proud I made such a yummy cookie, or when traveling or visiting a. New restaurant I'm sad to stop indulging but grateful to be able to experience it!!! And remember, you are addressing the anxiety, not the food! Addressing food girdles away your power and gives it to food. And it’s got the truth. Your addressing your anxiety and that you do have control over!! Food does not control you!!!!

#ed recovery #weight loss foods

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ninetailednaru · 4 years

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The Mother of My Child. [Minato Namikaze]

cw: oral sex, impregnation/slight breeding kink, suggestive themes/content, crying, super fluffy smut/lime

Summary: Minato is ready to start a family with you.

A/N: I got really in the mood for some soft, fluffy Minato (basically him 24/7) but I made it spicy? Not really, lol, it’s super soft and sweet.

Another thing— I think it’s important to mention that although “name substitutes” aren’t used in here (ex. [(Last) Name], [Y/(L)/N], etc.), your last name is implied to be Uzumaki. You’re married to Minato, and if you couldn’t tell from the title, warnings, tags, and summary, you’re trying for a baby.

That is all. :))

P.S. This is sort of self indulgent and since I’m pretty shy and a bit insecure, so is the reader.. Minato just seems perfect for this scenario. There’s not enough shy reader spice out there that fit my personal standards either, so I decided to do one myself. It shouldn’t be too bad, though. And for anyone out there wanting to read the straight fluff aspect, I put a 💘 to symbolize when the fluff ends. :)

————

Minato was so glad to be home.

A sigh couldn’t help but escape his lips as he stepped into the apartment, kicking off his shoes and shedding most of his ninja gear all the while. He stretched out his muscles, groaning at the pleasant sensation as his day’s duties melted away.

Finally gathering his thoughts, he felt the faint vibration of music coming from the other room. He smiled to himself, knowing you were in there; having had awaited his return all day.

He stepped into the kitchen, the music getting louder and louder the closer he got— but not loud enough to the point where he could no longer hear the sound of your voice singing along with the song.

You were completely oblivious to his presence as he rested his chin is his palm, his arms resting on the kitchen counter right behind the place where you were cooking at the stove. He watched with admiration and love as you swayed your hips to the music while scrambling whatever was in the pan in front of you.

The only thing he could think about at this moment was how he got so damn lucky.

To believe that he got somebody as amazing as you— a powerful shinobi in your own right who worked their ass off around the clock, but utilized their hard earned day off to make your home spotless and cook a meal all for him.

You did so much for him, and it felt like he did nothing at all.

He thought he wasn’t worthy of you— worthy of such kindness.

He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. When he felt you jump at the sudden contact, a soft chuckle reverberated in your ear.

“Relax,” he said as he nuzzled further into the crook of your neck. “It’s just me.”

He felt your body relax in his arms when he revealed his identity. “So,” he started, “what’re you cooking?”

“Just some barbecue pork and hibachi rice. Simple, really. No big deal,” you said, shrugging best you could with his hold on you.

You could feel him smile against your neck.

“You could give me anything and I’d eat it without question if you were the one who made it. It doesn’t matter if it’s a simple dish or a complex one, my love.”

He glanced over at the pan and smiled even wider against your skin. “Is it done?”

“Yeah, I just have to plate it.”

“That can wait.”

💘

Minato unraveled one of his hands from around your waist to turn the knob on the stove to where it said “off” in big, bold letters. In a heartbeat, Minato had spun you two around with your lower back pressed flush against your marble kitchen island.

“Minato,” you whimpered out.

“Jump.”

Heeding his orders, you wrapped your arms around the blonde’s neck and jumped up, only to be pushed backwards onto the countertop.

His hands slid around from your sides to the curve of your ass, resting there delicately as though if he handled you too roughly you’d shatter like fine china. He pressed his forehead against yours gingerly and looked into your eyes.

“You do so much for me. Let me take care of you for a change.”

He began to slowly push up the bottom of your skirt along with your apron, stopping just as it was about to come all the way up and switching to kneading the skin of your thighs instead.

“Please?”

You couldn’t help but look away, your cheeks burning with embarrassment and flattery. “But that’s embarrassing..”

Your words came out in a strained, high pitched whisper that made him smile.

“You’re perfect. Absolutely gorgeous.”

He pulled away from your face to sink down to his knees, gently parting your legs as he went.

“You know,” he began, “you’re the most beautiful woman I‘ve ever seen.” He spoke in between teasing, lingering kisses he placed to the inside of your thighs.

“I can’t wait till you’re pregnant with my child... it’s giving me butterflies in my stomach just thinking about it.” His kisses got closer and closer to your womanhood.

“And I’ll do all I can to help you out.”

He stopped right in front of your aching core; still covered slightly by your skirt and apron, along with your dampening panties. “Let me make that happen.”

Your eyes widened. “R-Right now?”

He nodded.

The heat in your face that had subsided once before came back full force. Out of habit, you averted your eyes away from him again but we’re forced to look back when you felt him lick a long stripe onto your clothed pussy.

“Got your attention now, I see.” He grinned up at your red face. “So, will you let me?”

You bit your lip and tried to swallow down the overwhelming sense of embarrassment that rinsed over your body. The hokage, one of Konoha’s finest men and shinobi— both in looks and skill— was on his knees in front of you, saying he wants to put a child inside of you.

You were shy already, and Minato’s unabashed forwardness and confidence while voicing his desires didn’t make it any better.

You nodded shallowly. “Okay..”

The smile that followed after your blessing was blinding. “I’ll do all the work. Don’t worry about a thing, okay?”

You nodded once more.

He lifted your hips up just enough to pull your soaked-through panties down and off your body, letting them drop onto your tile kitchen floor.

The way he looked at your arousal could only be described as predatory if anyone else saw it. But, it didn’t scare you. In fact, you knew Minato better than that, and the look in his eyes was possessive, and hungry, and loving— not dangerous. Not in this context, at least.

His eyes flickered up to meet yours and he slowly wrapped his lips around your bundle of nerves, lapping and sucking. You couldn’t help but let a whine escape your throat as you met his gaze; his response only being him grabbing your hips and locking you against his mouth.

“Hah, Minato—!”

Despite the urge to shove the back of your hand into your mouth, you found yourself bracing the cold surface with whatever remaining consciousness you had left that wasn’t swallowed by the immense onslaught of pleasure that Minato was supply you with. Minato was truly a god when it came to oral, and you knew from the countless years you’d been together that there no place he’d rather be than on his knees and between your legs.

His eyes never left your face as he ate you out so graciously. He was so eager— so eager and desperate to make you see how much he really cared about you; to see how much he loved you. He was addicted to you. You body, your personality, your taste— everything. He couldn’t get enough of you, or that bright smile that graced your features everytime your eyes landed upon him. He was so proud to be able to fight along side you everyday and protect the Leaf, but also, he was so proud and honored that he could call you his.

One of his hands left your waist to slip between your legs and gently push inside you, thrusting in and out in tandem with his tongue as he continued his assault on your clit.

A hand that you were supporting yourself with left your side and found purchase in his spiky blonde locks, gripping harshly as you quivered underneath him. You were completely at his mercy now.

He growled at the sensation of you tugging on his hair so harshly and his brows furrowed together. The number of fingers had increased to two, and the overall speed of them had increased as well.

A loud moan tore itself from your throat as you bit your lip so hard it was bound to draw blood. You clenched around him, cumming on his mouth and fingers. Minato’s movements gradually decrescendoed in speed as he helped you ride out your blissful high to the fullest before pulling away and popping his middle and ring fingers on his right hand that were inside you into his mouth, cleaning it of your essence and standing up while wiping his mouth and chin on the back of his hand.

He couldn’t stop smiling.

The after shock of your orgasm caused your body to twitch every so slightly as you and Minato stared at each other silently, soon breaking out into sweet laughter and giggles. He pulled you into a tight bear hug and tapped twice onto the small of your back, signaling for you to wrap your legs around his waist. You complied and he walked towards your bedroom, your laughter and giggles never seizing.

Until he placed you down on the bed and stood in front of you, you hadn’t realized how hard he really was. You had been together for ages, and married for a good chunk of that time, yet you’d never seen him so riled up and rearing to go.

Yet, instead of tearing into you (especially for his sake), he was taking his time and pleasuring you.

He slowly clambered over in your direction, mounting himself on top of you and between your legs as he pressed his plump lips on every centimeter of skin your face had to offer.

His kisses spread from your nose, to your cheeks, to your lips, forehead, and chin before gradually moving to your jaw and neck.

He tugged at the hem of your skirt as he kissed you, silently asking for permission to undress you. You moved to undo it yourself, but found your hands to be grabbed as soon as your thumbs found themselves on the inside of your waistband.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d take care of everything, silly?”

You felt yourself blush for the millionth time that evening. “Sorry.”

He pecked your lips again.

“Don’t be sorry.”

His hands replaced yours as he slid your skirt down your legs and tossed it haphazardly onto the floor, your blouse and apron (which you hadn’t taken off yet) going to join it soon after.

Your arms instinctively shot up to cover your body (as if he hadn’t seen you naked plenty of times already), but living up to his name of the Yellow Flash, his hands shot up and grabbed them fast as lighting.

The look in his eyes was stern and reprimanding, but laced with a puppy like adoration. He really thought you were a work of art— something to be worshipped and praised. He could stand that you couldn’t see that, too.

“You don’t have to be scared. You’re beautiful to me.” He tilted his head with a small smile on his lips.

You glanced in his direction. “It’s not that I’m scared.. I’m just.. nervous..”

He raised a brow.

“Oh? Why is that? It’s not like we haven’t done this before. What’s so different now? my babygirl?”

Your heartbeat had doubled in speed.

“Well, we’re trying for a baby. A new member of the family! I’m.. I don’t know.. scared.”

He frowned slightly. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want too. You know that. I don’t want to make you—“

“No, no,” you interjected. You brought up his hands in front of his chest and laced your fingers inside of his, pushing against his palms playfully. You finally met his eyes for what you were sure was the longest time you had that night.

“It’s not that, dear. Just.. what if it doesn’t work out? What if it doesn’t take? What if I lose them, or worse? I don’t want to disappoint you, Minato.”

His gaze softened even more as he looked at you. He lowered both your hands and began running his thumbs along the back of them, caressing in soothing circles and patterns.

“You could never disappoint me. You’re willing to give me a child— to make me a father! That’s all I could ask for. More, even. Besides, if it doesn’t take or if we lose them, we’ll just try again.”

He met your eyes again.

“We’re in this together. I promise.”

You felt hot liquid come flooding out of your eyes as your vision blurred and your face contorted into that of joyous sobs. He was so nice to you. So cute! And now, after all this time, he was ready and willing to start a family with you.

He truly was the sweetest person on the planet. It almost gave you a toothache.

You felt large, calloused hands come up and cup your face, wiping and kissing your tears away. “Don’t cry,” he spoke. “It’s okay.”

His voice immediately calmed your nerves; the soft tone and rumble filling you with warmth and putting your scattered mind at ease.

“I’m sorry. I’m so shy and sensitive..” A sniffle followed your words. His gaze softened even further.

“There’s nothing wrong with that. It makes you easier to relate, too— easier to read. I never have a doubt in my mind that you care because of how you wear that beautiful heart of yours on your sleeve. And most of all, all the effort put it makes it more worth getting to know than others.”

You sniffled again but nodded against his hand.

“Hm. Now that that’s settled...”

He tilted your head up to look at him.

“How about we make a baby?”

You couldn’t stop the smile from breaking across your face with a giggle; the sight causing a goofy grin of his own to emerge on his. “Alright. Let’s make a mini Uzumaki-Namikaze.”

He smiled even wider and he tackled you down to the bed, trapping you in a tight embrace before finally coming to a stop— him on top, and you on the bottom staring at each other wordlessly.

The air felt charged with electricity. It felt like you were falling in love with him all over again—the goofy, brave, and incredibly fast Fourth Hokage.

The night was filled with smiles and grins, laughter and giggles— and most of all, love and passion. You couldn’t wait to bring a miniature mix of both you and the man you loved into the world. You still had a lot to figure out about becoming a parent, and Minato reassured you he’d be there with you the entire way. But, as of now, you were sure of two things.

One, the name would be Naruto Uzumaki.

And two?

That kid was going to do some incredible things one day.

#minato namikaze #naruto #not sfw #fluff

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flying-elliska · 4 years

Note

Hi Ellie!! I hope u dont mind this ask ❤Do u have any advice on how to do stuff on your checklist and not get overwhelmed? I can hardly do one thing out of my to do list and then i get severely depressed for not being able to do anything. i dont think i can function like a human being sometimes. anyway youre so cool ellie!!! i admire you loads!!! - help asked from one adhd struggling teen

HI anon ! I’m sorry for not answering sooner i had a beautiful answer ready and then Tumblr just ate it T_T anyway i don’t mind at all i think it’s awesome that you’re asking me ! this is honestly still something I’ve struggled a lot with. here are a few things that helped me (keep in mind i’m not a professional and this is only my personal, limited point of view) :

- ofc the first thing is to get as much help as you can, there are lots of people out there who can help. Generally talk to people around you about your problems ; often they want to help and just don’t know how : i know the tendency to feel ashamed and keep it in but that’s not good. Some people might be a bit ignorant so maybe keep a few ressources on hand you can send to people to educate them if that’s an issue ; and educate yourself so you feel more secure and legitimate in your opinions.

- one thing that’s helped me lots is to go on #ADHDtwitter and #Neurodiversesquad because a lot of people on there are actual adults who are sharing both their struggles but also tips on how to actually manage the symptoms and have full and happy, if messy, lives. It’s very inspiring. It helped me a lot to feel understood, less alone and gave me a ton of ideas. Some accounts to start with : @ danidonovan - @ blkgrllostkeys @ ADHD_Alien (her comics are so cute) @ dustyexner plus lots of others

- regarding having trouble doing things, this is definitely a Big Damn Problem for adhd folks. the concept of the emotional Wall of Awful really helped me with this, you can find more about it in this Youtube video by the awesome How To ADHD channel (all her videos are so helpful !! have a look!) basically the idea is that we accumulate emotions linked to certain tasks based on unhappy past emotions that make it a lot harder for us to do things and that building it down takes a lot of time and effort but there are ways to work with/around that. learning to process, connect to and be more mindful of our emotions is a huge task, but it’s often a central one.

- don’t try too hard to be neurotypical aka ‘normal’. find the solutions that work for YOU. If they’re a bit weird ? Whatever. The point is that it works. You will probably end up having weird routines that make no sense to others but it doesn’t matter as long as it helps you. Be creative and don’t be afraid to think outside the box. I’ll give you an example : one of the reasons i hate going to bed early is because late at night is when i feel the most free of outside obligations and therefore i don’t want to give that up. So instead what i’ve been trying to do from time to time is a ‘clown hour’ where i basically give myself permission to do whatever the fuck i want (within reason lmao) but in an active way ; basically indulge my rebellious inner 8 yr old. Last time I ended up watching martial arts videos on youtube and practicing kickboxing kicks on the Mulan soundtrack and then put on funeral music and improvised my own eulogy by thinking about what i would like people to say about me after my death. Lmao that sounds completely wack when explained to other people but the point is - stuff like that really helped me reconnect to the idea that my time is mine to do with as i please, not just late at night. Anyway my point is : make it fun, make it a game, try things, experiment. Our brains crave novelty and if they don’t have it and feel burdened by shame, pressure and expectations of course they get depressed and stuck. Give your brain the fuel it needs to work.

- just accept that sometimes you’re going to be a mess. it’s okay. you can be a bit of a mess and also live a fully, happy, joyous life. our society puts so much pressure on us to have this Perfect Instagram Life where everything is polished to unrealistic standards and gives us the idea that your morals are linked to productivity and if you are not constantly striving to be a Model Consumer Pretty Picture you are a Bad Person and a slob/lazy/unworthy/etc and all of that is...toxic garbage of the highest order that everyone should unlearn but especially us. related to that i would be careful with use of social media, tailor it to only give you content that makes you feel good/intellectually engaged/creative because it’s so easy for us to go into bad comparative spirals.

- tied to that be careful of your own perfectionist drives. it’s veeeeery common for adhd people to want to overcompensate their perceived shortcomings by wanting to be perfect. aka you haven’t done anything in weeks and all of a sudden you have this insane to do list where you expect yourself to turn your entire life around in a week. well, not going to happen. i’ve found it so important to limit myself. for instance what i do now is i forbid myself to put more than 5 items on any todo list. once i’ve cleared items i can add more, but not before. it’s a lot less scary that way. also prioritizing is very important so you don’t get bogged down in details.

- try to be mindful of your own energy. a big tendency of adhd people is to overpromise and underdeliver because we are enthusiastic and we want to please people but we are bad at estimating time/energy it will need. learn more about your own boundaries, what things are hard for you to do (for me, it’s socializing in groups) and what gives you energy (for me it’s writing, reading and walking in the woods) and try to balance that. learn to say no, it’s tough but necessary. So that you have enough left for the tasks you need to do.

- create an environment that is benevolent and helpful for you in which to work/do things and that generates positive emotions. Get yourself a cute notebook. Put on happy music. Don’t forget to feed yourself. Don’t give into the urge of punishing yourself. You deserve happy good things - not overindulgence as escape - but our brains thrive on short term rewards. Bundle the unpleasant tasks with more stimulating stuff (for instance i always listen to podcasts while cleaning/grocery shopping etc). Create pleasant little routines for yourself (for instance one of the first things i try to do in the morning is do a little drawing of my emotions, it makes me happy, then i have tea and i plan my day.). Put on alarms constantly so you don’t lose track of time, but with a cool song. Find yourself cheerleaders who can encourage you in a positive way. Stuff like the pomodoro technique, timing yourself while doing a task, etc, can really help. Or telling yourself you will do a thing for ten minutes and stop when it’s unbearable, etc. Prioritize joy, pride, affection, desire to help, altruism, love, curiosity, interest and passion as motivators, instead of anxiety, guilt and shame.

- find ways to build self esteem and confidence in your own skills. it’s often a lack of that that can block you from doing what you need to because you might be afraid of screwing it up. what I did for a while, for instance, is to keep a record of the stuff i did everyday and then extrapolated the skills i displayed from that. another thing you can do is make a list of simple skills you want to learn and find ways to do that, like youtube tutorials, etc. especially when it’s practical stuff and quick to learn, it can really feel so good, and make you more familiar with a sensation of success (and if you fail it can be a fun experiment gone wrong, and self discovery, you don’t have to be good at everything.)

- find ways to challenge yourself. depression happens for adhd people when we let ourself stagnate, isolate ourselves because of shame, and get into this idea that we are subhuman and we don’t deserve good things. that is false. you deserve a happy life. and our brains crave novelty. find your passion and indulge in it, find the things that make your brain come alive (as long as they’re healthy ofc). if you’re not sure what that is, just keep trying. you will find it. but resist the temptation to make your life smaller and smaller. you might mess up but that’s okay. it’s human and it will make for interesting stories later. instead of trying too hard to ‘fix’ yourself, focus on developping your positive sides. it will give you energy, self-respect and draw you forwards like a rocketship. we thrive on passion, not reprimand.

- anyways : i know how tough it can be. depression is really something i struggle with, too. and doing things remains Hard. but my point is, you are not alone, and you are not broken. chances are you too, like most adhd people i know, are a fun, creative, compassionate person with a heart of gold and so much to give. our main enemy is most often the shame that comes with living in a world that is not adapted to us. but the truth is we are just playing the game of life on a much harder setting than a lot of people, and we don’t even have the manual. of course it’s going to create struggle ! so i think the best thing to do for yourself is cultivate a sense of compassion towards yourself, self acceptance, and humor.

- as a teen you probably have a limited margin of autonomy to make your lifestyle fit your needs but - there is so much potential for it to get better ! as you grow in self knowledge and ability to make your own choices, you will find the right solutions and your life will get so much better. i have heard so many stories like this. since i got diagnosed, too, my life got a lot better. i won’t lie, it’s a lifelong process. but there is so much possible. give yourself time. you are so young, and you are definitely a human being. being human is struggling with being flawed and vulnerable and imperfect. i know the world can be shit sometimes, you probably got some negative messages - especially from your own brain bc depression definitely lies to you ! but don’t let yourself be guided by ignorance and fear. you deserve better. i bet you’re also super cool. the happier you are, the better off the world will be. so invest in yourself. educate yourself, develop your self knowledge, be kind to yourself, and keep making little steps. you’ll get there. <3

#adhd #actually adhd #neurodiversity #mental health #depression #anon asks

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ajoy3fanfics · 5 years

Text

Missing Pt. III

Hey guys! Thank you everyone that has been following along with this story and reviewing! The response was way more than I expected. I have a clear storyline for this in my head, and if anyone is interested I’m more than happy to write it! As always, thanks so much for reading!

Note: I’ve been posting the past two chapters in my one shots ( FF- One Shots) but I decided to make it its own story! I’ll post chapter 3 in the one shots, moving on will post it in FF- Missing

~.~

He could hear her footsteps rushing towards him, his name falling off her lips in a rush. Even as she began to approach, Inuyasha refused to turn her way, choosing instead to hold Kagome prisoner with his stare. He could see it in her face, the uncertainty, the guilt, like she had done something terribly wrong and had just been caught; as Kikyo got closer to his bed, Kagome waivered, turning her gaze down. He felt rage building up, threatening to boil over as he continued to stare at her, looking fucking ashamed. Ashamed! Like she had done something wrong! She fidgeted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Kikyo called out to his name once more, her voice a mix of relieved and sad, trying her best to break him from his daze. “You’re finally-”

A sharp growl cut her off mid-sentence, an animalistic warning, making Kikyo jump back. Inuyasha sharply turned his head, eyes narrowed in anger with a scowl on his face, looking almost feral. “Leave.” He snarled, fanged bared. The dog demons attempts to scare off the intruder might have worked on someone with a weaker will, but Kikyo was no stranger to the primal side of the hanyou. Instead of running for the hills, she simply frowned, not moving forward, but neither heeding his request. “Fucking go!” He practically barked out, tone severe, harsh.

“What lies have you been filling his head with?” Kikyo demanded, arms crossed over her chest to cut a more imposing figure, a true feat for a woman who measure no more than 5’4. Her accusation seemed to rattle Kagome, who had chosen to keep unusually quiet, her face contorting with anger. “I didn’t do anything like that!” She snapped. Even though Inuyasha was on her side, becauseof coursehe was going to back her up, when she felt wronged her voice could be somewhat shrill; his ears flattened as she continued her assault. “He’s got amnesia. He doesn’t remember us breaking up.”

“Were notbroken up!” He interjected, teeth clenched, trying to make her understand.. Kagome raised her brows, giving Kikyo a rather smug look. “See?” She asked, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Maybe if you were here, you’d know what was going on with him.”

“He’s been unconscious for a month.” She justified. Inuyasha flicked his gaze towards her, keeping watch between the women standing on either side of him. “I had to work! As soon as I got the call that he woke up I got on the next flight to the city. Not that I have to explain myself to you.” Kikyo added in for good measure. “Why are you even here? I thought you were banned.” Inuyasha couldn’t help but notice that she looked self-satisfied with her last remark.

“Banned?” He echoed, totally confused because how the hell would Kagomeget banned from anywhere?FinallyKagome looked his way, like she just remembered he was in the fucking room; she blushed. Any other time he would’ve found it cute, this embarrassment and possibly funny story, but now he was feeling nothing short of rage. “Banned?”He spoke slower, angrier, making the machines to beep furiously. Great. Another damn spike in his blood pressure.

Another 24 hours in this God forsaken hell. A nurse promptly ran in, her hand readied on a walkie; clearly she had heard tales of his previous outbursts and was ready to call for backup immediately. “What’s happening here?” She asked. Inuyasha was quick to answer that nothing was wrong, but Kikyo felt it was her place to interject. “She’s not supposed to be here.” She said, like it explained the entire situation. “She was banned from this hospital room last month. She’s upsetting him.”

Inuyasha had never felt pure rage before. He’d been mad, furious- sure. Dangerously angry? Yeah, he’d been accused of that. But rage? The kind so potent and powerful that he could take his supernatural strength and snap a neck in half? No, he hadn’t felt that before, but fuckhe was feeling it now. He had never thought it would be directed at his high school ex-girlfriend, but stranger things had happened.

Like everyone fucking telling him he dumped Kagome.

“She’snot upsetting me.” He ground out, trying to keep his cool. The nurse looked unimpressed, tilting her head to get a better look at Kagome. “Ma’am, is it true you were banned?” Kagome looked down at the floor and nodded. “I was given permission to come today. But I don’t want to cause a problem.”

“Special permission?” The nurse questioned, eyeing Kagome suspiciously. She nodded again, eyes still downcast. She considered Inuyasha, looking ready to rip the wires and IVs out of his arms as she questioned the woman on the side of him. She walked to the monitors, checking his vitals before she took her leave. The room felt stiff and awkward, the task seeming to take an eternity. When she was finished, she recorded the information on his chart. “Whatever your problems are, I suggest you work them out outside of the room. He needs peace and quiet, not a catfight.” Thinking it was best for the patient to give a warning and space, she decided to momentarily back off. “If there’s anymore trouble you’re both out.” She added as she walked out the door.

“I-I should go.” Kagome stammered. Inuyasha whipped around to look up at her, pressing her lips together nervously. When did she start fidgeting so damn much? “No.” He said sternly, but she only smiled at him in response. “I’m really glad you’re okay, Inuyasha.” She leaned down and wrapped her arms around him, giving him a gentle hug. He brought his hands up to her back, feeling more like a zombie than a person as she embraced her. She was leaving? Leaving?

Inuyasha breathed in, closing his eyes as he indulged in the spice of her natural scent and the cherry blossom body was she used. She inhaled and he felt her chest tremble.

This was a goodbye hug.

Panic struck him, that was the only was to describe what he did next. Locking his arms around her back, he pulled Kagome towards his chest. She yelped as her cheek was smushed, causing her lips to pucker. “Inuyasha!” She bucked, trying to get free of his hold. “Let me go!” The hanyou shook his head. “No.” He answered, sounding more like a child throwing a tantrum than a full grown man. “Not until you promise you won’t leave.” He heard her sigh in frustration. “Inuyasha!” She protested, wiggling hopelessly against him.

“Inuyasha, let her go.” Kikyo’s tone left no room for guessing. She wasn’t at all impressed by this show of affection. Nostrils flaring, his fiancé pressed against him in a body lock, he finally felt assured enough to address Kikyo the way his demon was demanding him to. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing here, but I want you to go.” He argued. “She,” he started, moving his right arm to motion to the woman held hostage, “isn’t going anywhere. She’s my fucking fiancé. I don’t know what bullshit your trying to sell, but you need to fucking go.” Kagome struggled beneath his grasp.

To her credit, Kikyo did her best to hide her pain. She processed his words, trying to swallow her feelings. “You- You’re with me now.” She tried, confidence breaking at the sight of her boyfriend gripping onto another woman for dear life. He shook his head, somehow making it look threatening, dangerous. When he spoke, it was low, wild. “Go.” Kikyo looked up to the ceiling, trying to blink back her tears. “I’ll go, for today. I- I wont hold this against you… you’re sick.” Her voice dropped. Finally, she took a deep breath and turned away. Stopping in the doorframe, she spoke, refusing to look back lest she lose her nerve. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

It wasn’t until Inuyasha was sure that she had left that he focused his attention on Kagome; she had stopped trying to fight against him, his demon strength no match for her. “Inuyasha?” She tried. “This- this is really uncomfortable. Let me go?” It came out as a question, pleading.

“I meant what I said.” Inuyasha swept his thumb over her back, trying to soothe her, trying to soothe himself. “I’ll let you go if you promise you won’t go. We need-” Inuyasha stuttered. “We need to talk.”

Kagome sighed beneath him, clearly defeated. “Fine,” she said. “Let’s talk.”

#inuyasha #inufanfic #inukag #fanfic #ficlet #work in progress #thank you for reading #kagome

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mimiplaysgames · 5 years

Text

Transitions ~ In colors like paint

Terraqua Week Day 3: Seasons

Summary: Change hurts. There will be a lot of missteps before Aqua can figure out how to start anew. Where each season makes them realize how much they really need to forgive each other - and themselves. @terraquaweek

Read on AO3

***

Autumn ~ Taking stock of adulthood

Their first days back home are about rest: remembering what laughing feels like, how delicious Aqua’s baking is, how a snore sounds.

What they’ve reaped from months (years) of neglect is a castle full of dust and piles of dirt tucked into corners from the wind blowing in. It’s how autumn gathers a storm of red and yellow, leaving them stacked against windows that need to be aired out like dirty laundry.

The castle is far too big for them, so the west wing is particularly ignored, wood all needing a good wax and cushions that need to be washed. Right now, it’s about figuring out what they have in order to prepare for the new students coming in next year.

Ventus sneezes as he walks past the fifth couch in the third lounge they have seen today (they’ll have to convert a lot of them into bedrooms) when Terra opens the door.

“You won’t believe what I just found,” he says, though he’s directing it mainly towards Aqua.

It’s a short walk around two corners, heading towards the back of the castle, where he leads them through a maze of hallways just to stop at another hallway.

“Remember this?” He points and asks Aqua.

A small painting near the floor, faded from age, depict stick figures of a girl and a boy with a cartoonish mockery of a castle in gold, and a simple sun. Plus two tiny hand prints, one made in gray-blue paint and one in dull-orange.

It’s been at least a good twelve years since she’s ever thought of it.

Aqua sits on her knees and touches the figure - the paint is so dry and crusty that it chips off the shoulder of her character. She’ll have to be gentler next time.

“I still can’t believe the Master never removed it,” she says softly.

“Yeah, he was really mad at us,” Terra says, bending down with her and pressing his hand against the print his child-self left behind. He is so big now that the child’s memory in its entirety is smaller than his palm.

“How old were the two of you when you did this?” Ventus asks, leaning on his knees to inspect the masterpiece.

Aqua and Terra shoot looks at each other, seeking permission to speak first, pondering their minds to see if they have the same answer.

“Six and seven, I think,” Aqua answers, and Terra agrees. “We finger-painted it. That was the first time I was ever grounded.”

“Cute… what are you going to do with it now?”

Desaturated from its original colors, the painting looks like a stain against the towering white wall, which stretches down the hall.

“The responsible thing, I guess,” she says, though her voice hitches in the slightest - something about the thought makes her feel like she’s killing her child, like the Aqua of the past and the Aqua of now are two different people. In a way, she’s betraying someone close to her. “Paint over it, keep it clean for the new students.”

Terra shakes his head, running his palm against the wall surrounding the old paint like he’s measuring it.

“Is that what you actually want?” he asks.

“Not really.”

“I don’t feel right doing it either,” he says. “It’s like, the Terra who left this behind had no idea how his life was going to turn out. All he had were goals and dreams.”

She chuckles - as much as she enjoys watching him smile, she’d have to say he’s at his most beautiful when he’s introspective.

“I feel the same way, if I’m going to be honest.”

“Yeah.” He takes one hard look at the painting. “I want to make amends to my younger self, instead of burying him. Let him be happy. Is that strange?”

“Not at all.” What is strange is how near she is at tears - Terra always has a way of knowing what she needs, even if he doesn’t mean to. Less strange is her need to hold his hand; years of lacking any affection made her realize that what she truly wanted this entire time was for him to touch her.

So she takes his hand, grips it firmly, and so easily he weaves his fingers in hers, like it’s same old, same old.

Terra faces Ven, to include him in. “Why don’t we give it some attention? It looks really sad.”

“There’s paint in the storage unit,” Ventus replies excitedly.

The old paint smells bad but it’s not like they have anything else - it’s not every day these three indulge in a little arts and crafts session. Fingers too big to mimic the traces of children, they use pencil-thin brushes and careful strokes to make the recoat as close to the original: Terra and Aqua on their respective characters and handprints, Ventus on the cartoon sun and castle.

It’s only with Terra’s permission that Ven can add a stick figure of himself and Chirithy.

When they are done, Terra opens a sealed pot of green paint. “Ven, you’ll join in.”

He dips his own hand into orange paint, and plasters it on the wall, right next to his old hand print.

Aqua follows suit with the blue, and it feels like she’s making a new friend.

With the stick end of a paintbrush, Terra points to a place in between. “Yours will go here, Ven.”

Ventus gives him a look, almost like he was about to joke over how seriously Terra is taking this, but decides against it, following orders by dipping his hand into the green paint and adding it to the painting.

“Cheers’ will go right beside yours,” Terra says.

Chirithy chooses purple and on goes its tiny pawprint, like a period to a sentence. One little happy family with a cat-thing.

Honestly, it still looks like a mess in comparison to the stunning white wall, but at least it’s colorful, like a permanent bouquet of flowers in an otherwise cold season that only exists to make it colder.

Winter ~ There are two kinds of death: one of irreversible changes, and one of growth from rot

Winter is for snuggling, for warm hot chocolates, blankets, fireplaces, and stories to make everyone forget that it’s miserable outside.

If only Terra is here to enjoy that. His replies through the Gummiphone are inconsistent and short, like he doesn’t want to be bothered or is too busy to really check. He is most vague when he refers to his whereabouts.

Ventus is doing the favor of waiting for Terra to return, but he’s been planning his own trip for quite some time. It’s not fair to him - but at least he won’t be alone, since Chirithy will go with him.

Aqua supposes that she would like at least a day with her whole family together.

“You sure you have everything?” she asks him.

Ventus smirks but thinks better than giving her a sarcastic answer. “That’s the third time you’ve asked me, but yes.”

She sighs. Snow builds up in the skylights. Where is Terra?

“Excited?” she asks, thinking it best not to dread over things. It’s always how she ruins the moment.

“I am,” he starts, slowly realizing something else like there’s a voice in his head trying to convince him otherwise. “Maybe. Merlin is probably going to have me sitting all day reading books.”

Ventus doesn’t think he’d be a good teacher or has the capability of being a leader, so he wants to seek knowledge instead. And who better to start than by honing his finesse over magic than with the wizard himself?

“Lea and Kairi only had good things to say about his training.”

“That’s only because they’re polite when you’re around,” Ventus smirks.

She sighs. Again. “Terra should be here to say goodbye.”

He nods over to the direction past her. “Why don’t you tell him?”

Whipping over her shoulder, she sees who-else-but strolling up to them, his overcoat gone and without his shoes which means he has entered the castle and didn’t say hi to them first.

Chirithy, who most of the time sits quietly on Ven’s shoulders and is a bit too calculating with which conversations it joins, squeaks to itself. “Something is not right.”

She’ll pretend not to hear that. “Where were you?” Aqua asks Terra.

Ventus clears his throat - an indication that just maybe, the inflection in her voice may sound a tad accusatory. Not the best way to start anything with Terra.

“Around,” is his casual answer, gliding past her and reaching to ruffle Ven’s hair. “I’m glad I made it in time. Needed to say good luck.”

“And now it’s time for me to leave,” Ventus says, fixing his hairdo. “I want to beat the snowstorm at least.”

“You’d only be exposed for a few minutes before you leave the world,” Terra objects.

“Well, someone should have been here earlier.” Ignoring the way Chirithy is pulling at his hair, he takes his only suitcase. “The next time you’ll see me, I’ll wow you with my new skills, and you will all be jealous.”

He gives the two of them one final look before heading out the door. “Play nice, you two.”

Maybe she’s the only one thinking that something’s amiss, what with Terra rubbing his forearms together with a smile on his face as he faces her. “I want to show you something.”

That something is a pile of rags neatly laid out on the floor under the wall with the child’s painting, and brand new buckets of paint.

Terra is excited. “I thought we could make a mural out of this.” His fingers graze the wall, tracing it as he walks down. “We could have a night sky up above, with stars. Under it will be the mountains, and the castle at the very end.” He comes back to their childish project, cupping his hands around it. “We’ll keep this here, protected.”

It’s hard not to burst his bubble. It’s also really hard not to make it sound awful coming out of her mouth. “You left us to buy paint?”

He lays a fist against the white. “Not really. I just needed some time to myself.”

She folds her arms to hug herself. All she really wants is a straight answer, but Terra’s not the type to be pushed. “You were gone for a really long time.”

“I know.” He doesn’t look her in the eye; she will not get her answer tonight. “But we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he says, addressing the wall. “We’ll only do it with your permission.”

“My permission?” She scratches her ear. “You already bought the paint.”

“We may need it for other things.” He shrugs. “You’re still keeper of the castle.”

She sighs. It’s nice to see him look forward to something. She’s thought so much about what made him leave in the first place, reliving the days right before again and again in her mind - he was restless a little bit, didn’t sleep much, but none of that is new. Then he left to fight some straggling Heartless in another world, and never came back.

Maybe she’s taking him completely out of context.

“Tell me first why you’re so attached to this idea,” she says.

He taps the wall. “It’s weird, I know I’m back, but it feels like I’m not...

“I wanted a fresh start. Do something the Master would never approve of. A blank slate for us to go off on that has nothing to do with the lives we’ve lived or the hell we’ve been through. I want something just for the both of us. Like, something that tells us we have our lives back together. Does that make sense?”

It does. Getting on the right footing with him isn’t the easiest thing when he’s completely enveloped in giving her attention one day and then completely distant the next. She can’t blame him for that either, she behaves the same way sometimes.

Having trauma is like having some days all to herself; the rest no longer belong to her.

But a few weeks of him gone - when she’s spent years praying that he’d touch her again - is worse torture.

Aqua decides it’s time to let the past die. She wraps her arms around his waist, digs her face into his sweater.

“We’ll start by hugging you?” she replies.

He closes the embrace, holding her firmly like he’s forgotten that he needed the hug too.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice in her hair. “For making you worry.”

She nods. “Can I hug you whenever I want?”

He snorts, bringing her in tighter. “I’d like that.”

“Okay.” She brings herself to look up at him, his genuine smile in full display. “We can do the mural.”

Excitement on Terra’s face is special: it’s subtle, so much so that anyone who doesn’t know him well would probably never guess.

He gives her a gentle squeeze to let her know he’ll let her go, before opening a bucket of blue paint and dipping a wide brush into it. Starting a few inches from the child’s painting, he sweeps upward - the color of a winter sky.

Spring ~ Birth by sleep

Flowers make blossoming look easy. It gradually comes in a matter of days, berry sprouts and flecks of color casually making their acquaintance through the fields. Soon, the Master’s old gardens will have a variety of colors.

Soon, if she takes care of them.

The ease at which she finds gardening isn’t true for anything else in her life that needs growth. Birthing a new life with Terra is slow, arduous, exciting, and truth be told, painful at times - painful when old habits don’t die and he keeps stonewalling her when she presses him too hard.

Nighttime in the spring isn’t like the summer’s - it’s cold.

It was only supposed to be a simple mission, taking out Heartless that threatened a small town. That was it.

Terra storms through the entrance hall, throwing his helmet in a fury as she follows from behind.

“Listen to me,” she calls from behind him, “there’s nothing wrong with what-”

He stops dead in his tracks, whips to face her, holds a finger up like he’s going to jab it in her face, then thinks better of it and crosses his arms, head slung over.

Part of her wants to berate herself for pushing the subject when he’s uncomfortable; the other has lost her patience. How many times is this erratic mood going to continue?

“It wasn’t a big deal,” she says. Wasn’t it?

“How can you say that,” he snaps.

“You were only trying to help-”

“That doesn’t help at all-”

“You didn’t even hurt anybody-”

“I could have!”

It shuts her up, it surprises him. She can count the number of times Terra has ever yelled in his life in one hand, this being included. It’s just not like him. The sound of it throwing itself against the walls still vibrates, and he stares at the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have really pressed the issue.”

All Terra does is shake his head, mumbling to himself with his eyes closed. He’s in a ton of pain, and in her desperate need to correct what’s been going on, she really failed at seeing it. She really should have been more sensitive, she really should have…

“This is the reason you disappeared a few months ago, right?” she asks.

It’s the purse in his lips and the sharp inhale that tells her she’s right. “I’m going to bed,” he says.

“Terra, I really am sorry.”

“I heard you, you’re forgiven.” Said like someone who wants to be as far away from her as possible.

“We-” she starts, her hand outstretched because she always, always hugs him goodnight.

He actually stops and turns to face her. Leave it to Terra to be the better person, to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Um…” She hides one hand in her sashes, to let herself fiddle with her fingers without making it obvious. “We can work on the mural tonight, if you want to.”

He licks his lips. “Not tonight.” Defeated and tired are just two words to describe it, turning away like they’ve never made a deal about hugs before.

The castle is still and sleepy when she’s by herself. Ventus is still in his sabbatical, Terra retiring to his room for the rest of… some part of her is scared that he’ll have to take a break too.

When she walks, the echoes of her shoes are heard by nothing, slightly bouncing off the walls before silence takes a bite.

It’s quieter in the western wing. The mural is tedious work, so humongous that Terra, who’s been doing the sky, has to shuffle in between steps of the ladder just to paint vertically, before having to scooch the entire thing over to get to the next surface area. She’s doing the grass, and she splits her time between standing up and being on her knees.

So far, the base colors are done, two flat sections of dark blue and green. What they’d have to do next is the shading, making grass blades and pepper it with stars...

Which would give them ample time to talk about things, if he was here. Painting is the best therapist, giving their hands and half their mind something pleasant to do while allowing them the comfort to talk.

But Terra isn’t here.

No, Terra is in his room, and she hears ruffling when she stands outside his door. She’s sure to knock softly.

He gives her a soft “Hey” when he opens the door, his face wearing regret over what happened earlier. Behind him is an opened suitcase with haphazardly folded clothes.

“You’re leaving again?” she asks and crosses her arms.

“Thinking about it.” He slips his hands into his pockets, clears his throat. He honestly looks like a child accepting that his parents have abandoned him. “I’m just not comfortable with… with knowing what I’m capable of.”

“You don’t think, for even a second that-” She breathes. “That maybe darkness won’t be so bad if you used it right?”

“Used it right?”

“I’ve had it.” She places her hand firmly against her chest, in conviction. So that he sees her, so that he understands. “And it was sad. That’s all I felt, that’s all it was. And I still feel sad sometimes, but I’m not dark.”

“But I don’t want it.” He swings his arm in dismissal. “If I could, I’d punch it in the face for what it did to you.”

Pause. To care this much, and she cares, too. Too much to let him think it’d be a good idea to leave. “It was effective at least.”

“It’s still darkness.”

“Riku wouldn’t even agree with you.” Her breath hitches. When is she going to learn to respect his boundaries? “You have a good heart, Terra. You have all the right intentions, you’re kind and generous and steadfast and the best person I know-”

It’s the way he’s staring at her that makes her stop. She hasn’t realized yet that she’s building tears behind her eyes.

“I won’t leave if you don’t want me to,” he says, a compassionate smile on his face, like he’s so tired of this but he chooses to sympathize with her anyway.

She wants to say Please don’t leave me, beg him to keep this castle alive while Ventus and Chirithy are gone, but that is unbecoming of her.

She could say Please stay, but then how could she be better person if she was still trying to nudge Terra around to her whim?

She could say It’s fine, please go, and it would betray what she really wants, allow Terra to cater to his own needs while she tolerates her pain. Again.

Taking that first step towards him is the hardest, like trying to breathe underwater and feeling the burn, her heart pounding like it’s beating holes into the earth with its bare hands. Starting over has its costs.

Her arms wrap around his neck, and she says, “I love you.”

She doesn’t know what else to say, this being the truest, as bare as the tears falling down her face.

Terra… gasps. Freezes in her touch like he’s unsure of what to do, before hugging her back, so tightly like she’ll just slip if he loosens his grip.

All she hears are trembling sighs like she’s cast a silence spell on him, but she still listens - to the way he rubs her arms, the way his eyes scatter her face, the way he cups her jaw and leans down to kiss her -

Not on her mouth, but on her eyelid, leading down the trail of tears like he’s drinking them, to her jaw before moving on to the other eyelid. It’s loony for sure, but it speaks with his truth: this new, mutable Terra has his heart where it’s always been all these years - with her.

The touch of his lips, it’s better than anything she’s ever daydreamed about in her youth, in the Realm of Darkness. Startling and soft enough to make her stop crying, that every tear coming out now is just a straggler who left too late.

When he’s done, he takes her lips in his, her waist into his arms, her hair into his hands. They both tremble in this embrace, shocked and nervous and excited about the exchange, anew, like this is the first time either of them have been born.

They only stop to take a breath. “Can I stay?” she asks.

He grins into her forehead. “I was going to ask you the same.”

It takes countless more kisses, more silent tears of joy, more back rubs and more breathy laughs in between before they go to his bed and make a new life in between their bodies, for themselves. They end the night with a whispered promise that they’ll continue the mural tomorrow.

Summer ~ To make room for joy

If summer is supposed to be for relaxing, it doesn’t exist inside the castle. It’s crunch time - setting up class schedules, moving new furniture in, making a dormitory out of the western wing.

Perhaps, most personally, it’s time to finally finish it. The tediousness gets easier with time.

Terra stands at the very top of the ladder at the far right side, finishing his last few stars, rounded out like curved Wayfinders, some larger, others like twinkles.

Aqua is below, proudly finished with shading grass and adding trees. She’s touching up the biggest stained-glass window of a depiction of the castle, using a photograph as a reference - it’s very two-dimensional but she’s not a professional.

“I think I’m done,” she announces.

“You’ll find a reason to come back and tweak it,” he says, his face mere inches from the wall as he adds the tiniest bit of stars over the tallest tower.

“But,” he adds, taking one last look over, “I’m definitely done.”

He waddles down the finicky ladder, squeaking with every step. The last stars he added look like dots, scattered and spread over the castle like a blessing.

“Stardust,” she says. “Protecting the castle, that’s so sweet.”

“Really?” He looks up, his grip never leaving the ladder rungs, and shrugs. “Kind of, yeah.”

“What is it supposed to be?”

“I mean, stardust, you’re right.” He lets go. “I think other people would interpret it the same way.”

“I’m serious.”

He chuckles, rubs the back of his neck. “The star is crying.”

She nearly drops her paintbrush. “Why are you thinking about crying?”

A pause first before he crosses his arms, wipes his mouth of nervousness. “There’s not much I remember from… being… Xehanort really.”

That name always makes them tense and they seldom say it. It’s usually you-know-who, or him, or that time.

“I don’t know where he was during that time,” Terra continues, “but it was one of the very few moments that I actually had some consciousness. I heard things, like voices. I don’t know why he was talking to a little girl, but I heard her, so clearly.”

He’s somewhere far away, completely forgetting that he has his hand suspended in the air as he reminisces.

“They were actually talking about hearts, him and this little girl, and she said to him that when a person cries, their tears are their hearts shedding, and they lose a part of themselves the more they do...

“And I always suspected that was what made me so weak, because being in that darkness felt like I was crying for twelve years. I wanted to paint that in to make it okay.”

The thought makes him cry, like he’s finally putting a secret to rest.

She takes his face in her hands, does the same nutty ritual he gave her months ago, starting with a kiss to his eyelid, tracing the tears running down his cheek, to his jaw, then to the other eyelid.

There’s sense in picking up his tears and making them her own.

“It will be our secret interpretation,” she says.

He takes her by the waist, smirking in his last attempt to let go of the baggage. Stares at her for a second too long, like he keeps arguing with himself to say something.

“I love you, too.”

The words leave her speechless - she always chose to feel loved when he held her close every night.

He laughs, his fingers interlacing with each other on her back, so he can’t let her go. “I’m sorry I never said them before.”

She cocks him a half-smile. “Why didn’t you?”

“I…” He shrugs. “I knew this was all real but when you told me that, I honestly started to question if I was in a dream. That I’d wake up and find myself in darkness, like I was experiencing a fantasy I wanted.”

“Terra,” she smacks him on the chest. “That’s depressing.”

“I just didn’t know why.”

“Why?”

“Yes, why you love me.”

She kisses him, long, hard, sweet. “That’s why.”

… It’s like someone has been watching a show and was just waiting for the prime opportunity to interrupt.

“Looks like no one’s been missing us,” Ventus says from behind her, Chirithy along for the ride, getting a front-seat view.

It makes her jump and whip around, nearly melting in Terra’s arms out of embarrassment.

“Ven,” she calls, half-relieved, half-shocked, mostly hot-faced as she picks up speed to give him a well-deserved Welcome Back hug. Terra follows with a rough rustle through the hair, like he’s been dying to do it for months.

“Please be sure,” Chirithy says, “to behave more appropriately in front of the students when they get here.”

Aqua brings her hand to her chest like she just heard something scandalous - Chirithy is way more responsibility than a house cat, almost like having a nagging teacher around that they have to feed and bathe and brush.

“I’m sorry, Cheers, I just didn’t know,” she says, to keep the peace, scratching under its chin like an olive branch.

Terra gives her a look, a smirk that says he’s quite proud of himself. Yes, let’s pretend they haven’t been kissing for months and that no one has seen anything.

“It looks so great!” Ventus says about their handiwork.

“We had a lot of fun,” Terra says, bringing his hands back into his pockets.

Ventus has a huge, ornate book that looks like it has been written 500 years ago in one arm, and he opens it. “I think it’s missing something.”

“You’re not ruining it.”

He waves his arm in dismissal. “I know what I’m doing.”

After reading to himself, he takes a look around, then back down to the page. Then back up. “We’ll need the lights off, please.”

He then prepares himself in front of the mural, re-checking his book and noticing that he can’t read it anymore because it’s too dark.

It would be nice to add Ven into such a precious project, but come on.

“Terra’s right,” Aqua says. “If you ruin it, you’re done for.”

“I get it,” Ventus says. He turns over his shoulder. “Just don’t make out behind me.”

“Get on with it,” Terra says, taking his place next to Aqua.

Ventus sighs, takes a moment.

“You can do it,” Chirithy squeaks, “teach him he is wrong.”

Teach who he is wrong?

Ven conjures a ball of light, grabs it, waves it, and throws, making it burst into a spray of sparks, each landing on one of Terra’s stars, adding bright shine to them and a glitter effect to the stardust.

“Ven, it’s wonderful,” Aqua says, nearly being moved to tears. She stops herself, bringing a finger to her face and looking over at Terra, who is wide-eyed at her and points a finger like he’s telling her to watch.

It’s been a long time since all of them smiled like this.

“HA!” Ventus exclaims, and it makes her jump. He slams the book closed. “This will show him.”

“What is this about?” she asks.

“I’ve been with him for months and he didn’t think I was capable of doing this.” He brings his gummiphone out, to take a picture. “I swore I’d make him eat his words.”

“You’ve shown all of us,” Terra says, nudging Aqua on the arm. “I’m completely jealous.”

“Yes,” Aqua says, shoving him back before accepting an arm around her. “I am, too.”

“It will now shine at night like this forever,” Ven says. He’s proud of himself, and he should be. “Something for the students to look at whenever they want.”

“We’ll have stars indoors when it’s storming out,” Aqua says, leaning her head onto Terra’s.

“The best gift ever.” Terra slips his fingers in between hers, in the dark, where Ven can’t see (but Ven can assume correctly that it’s happening).

In the mountains, summer nights are clear. The perfect shade of blue skies, a balance of cool breezes to scare away the heat, begging for noise and campfires.

Stardust will bless the castle, trees will dance in the wind. In the wish for a future, there’s a halo of white to protect a painting of childish dreams.

#terraqua #terqua #terraquaweek #kh fanfic #aqua #terra #kingdom hearts fanfiction #terraqua week #AHHHHHH this is the only long one #i swear!!!!#my fic

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salted-barbed-wire · 5 years

Text

The Devil May Care

Chapter Nine

Summary: “Here come my demons Out of the shadows All cloaked and daggers And poison arrows Hell bent with weapons Of self destruction Whispering kisses Serpentine seduction” Word Count: 2217

Prelude Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven Chapter Eight

I opened my eyes to shadows dancing around my room. I sat up, feeling a little dizzy, before realizing that I was surrounded by a dozen or more candles lit.

“You’re awake, finally.” I turned to see Aleister leaning against the wall in front of my bed. “And you got all dressed up for me.

My eyes went to my body. Gone were my cupcake and hello kitty pajama and in their place, was a silk and lace slip. “How-?”

Before I could finish the question, Aleister was on top of me, his mouth devoured mine. A small voice in the back of my head begged me to pull away, but I couldn’t. I pulled him down to the bed with me, our lips tasting each other. I inhaled a familiar scent. His hand slid up the end of my nighty. Fingers finding their way to my heat. I only broke the kiss to gasp at the sensation of his touch. Alesiter kissed and nipped along my neck, biting hard on my shoulder before moving farther down my body. His thumb rubbed circular motions over my clit, making my hips buck against his hand. I closed my eyes as his tongue drug across my perked nipple.

“So eager,” he whispered against my flesh. “I didn’t realize I left you with so much want, princess.”

My eyes snapped open, “What?”

Aleister has never used that pet name for me. It’s always ‘snojepe, this’ or ‘little snojepethat’. Princess? Finn called me Princess…

I looked down to see black eyes staring up at me with a mocking smile.

“Smart little girl.” Finn laughed.

I screamed, but he covered my mouth, forcing me back down onto the bed. “Ah, ah, ah, princess. You were the one that invited me up here, remember?”

I felt tears stinging at my eyes. He has control.

“I do,” Finn responded to my thoughts. “You said it yourself after we made our little deal, you’re mine.” I whimpered, squirming under his body. “Now, now, I may be evil, but I want you to want it.” He whispered in my ear. “It will be so much more thrilling to hear you beg for it.”

He uncovered my mouth to finally let me speak. “I will never-“ I began.

“Never say never,” Balor laughed. “You wanted it when I was wearing the Devil’s mask. Perhaps you’d let me ease some of that tension if I put it back on?”

He morphed back into Aleister before my eyes. His eyes were still Balor’s black color, but the rest of him was the spitting image of Aleister completely naked.

“It doesn’t matter what mask you wear, Balor, I will not give myself to you physically.” I spit in his face.

Balor chuckled, “So fiery. No wonder he gets a hard on thinking about you. If I were him, I’d jump at the chance of tying you down, giving you a good blindfold and ball gag before having my way with you.” His words in Aleister’s voice gave me chills. My cunt was still wet and was only aching more from the thought of what the Devil could do to me. “Tell me, princess, have you tempted the Devil? Have you tried to have him in your bed yet? He’d be so jealous if he could see us now.”

I refused to look at him, thinking about Aleister and I shamelessly flirting with each other not hours before.

“Oh?” Balor smirked. “You have! Did he deny you?” Balor freed me, moving between my legs. “Did he leave you wanting?” Balor’s arms hooked under my thighs, bring his words close my core. I looked down, only seeing Aleister’s face. No more black eyes, just Aleister’s staring at me, locked on mine. “This is your dream, love. Would you like me to indulge your fantasies?”

I whimpered. The warmth of his breath rocked me. Fuck.“No, please.”

“No?” He sat up. “You’re lucky, princess. We still require permission to possess or enter mortals like you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have had a chance to protest.”

I scooted my body out of reach from him, “You didn’t just come here to mess with me, did you?”

“Aye, you’re right.” Balor turned back into himself, sitting cross-legged on my bed, “We need to plot and plan.”

My eyes rolled. “Can I maybe change for this?”

His gaze wandered my frame. “There’s nothing wrong with what you’re wearing, princess.”

I furrowed my eyebrows together and glared at him before wrapping the blankets around me to cover my exposed skin.

Finn laughed heartily. “Oh, Jackie. It’s your dream. You can control most of it.”

“Great, time to wake up.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” He wiggled a finger at me. “I said most of it. I control when you wake up and my astral form will follow you wherever you go.”

I sighed, “Fine. So, how do I-“

Finn shrugged, leaning back against one of my bed posts. “You could always just strip down for me.”

I glared at him before remembering how Aleister conjured matter from thin air. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and snapped my fingers. When I opened my eyes, I was in jeans and a hoodie. Safe.

“Too safe. Wearing anything in under that hoodie? What kind of panties you wearing under those jeans?”

“Would you shut up?” I growled and he wiggled his eyebrows at me. “Come on, Balor. Let’s walk and hear this plan of yours.”

He hopped off the bed after me. “Oh, we’re going for a walk in your dream land. I can’t wait to see what’s inside this pretty little head.”

We walked out of my apartment. It felt strangely empty not seeing Felix around. I would think he’d be in my dream. Making our way down the familiar street we started walking along the empty side walk of the normally busy city. I noticed all the signs on the businesses and streets were blank. Finn had been walking behind me, looking around, smirking the whole time.

“Alesiter said we had to trap you on Halloween. He told me the story, about what happened…”

Finn scoffed, “He told you HIS version of what happened, princess. Not mine.”

“So, Aleister didn’t smuggle a guy in to impregnate your daughter then kill her after he smuggled your grandson away to have him plot to seal your powers away for a millennium only then dragging Lugh down to hell to have him ripped apart by Lucifer himself?”

Finn was silent for a beat. “I should’ve taken ol’ Lucy up on the offer to dethrone him. Red-eyes wouldn’t have stood a chance against me back then. I would’ve destroyed him.”

“But now?”

“Now, it might be more difficult.”

I looked down at my feet walking steadily. “Oh?”

“The throne gives him leverage. Not to mention he gains power from drawing up contracts, stealing souls. As long as hell is open, he has his powers.”

I stopped in my tracks, “So, what are you going to do?”

“Close the gates.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

His lips pressed in a fine line. “It’s not. It requires a lot of skill and precision. The sigils will have to be in place and hidden so he can’t see them. Not to mention the incantations are not for beginners. You’ll have to do some practicing for those.”

My jaw nearly hit the floor. “Me?”

“Well, yeah, princess. Who else did you think was going to do it?”

“I don’t know! Maybe you?”

Finn smiled softly. “No can do, Jackie. This has to be done by a soul with a foot in each plane. Meaning someone half way to hell, maybe someone who has sold their soul for a selfless reason?” His eyes were intense and pouring into me. “Someone who has the devil’s attention that can trap him, draw energy from him to close the gates until someone as powerful as yours truly can reopen them.”

I put my hand on my hip, “I thought you said you didn’t have the full extent of your powers?”

“Ah, true,” Balor nodded, “However, should we shut the entrance to hell, that wank-stain’s previous enchantment on me would fade and I would be able to defeat him in contest.”

“This is crazy!” I exclaimed, throwing my arms in the air. I turned around to start walking away from him. “Your ‘plan’ is terrible, and I should have never agreed to this.”

The demon appeared in front of me, stopping me in my tracks. “Oh, princess,” he feigned a gasp and put his hand on his chest, “you wound me. This will work.”

“I’d agree with you but then we’d both be wrong.” I glared, dodging him to keep moving down the sidewalk. “Even IF I were to even learn these spells and be able to perform witchcraft, which sounds crazier out loud, I don’t even know the full extent of Aleister’s plans. Which means, in case you aren’t aware, I have no idea how to ‘secretly prepare’ all of this nonsense.”

Balor matched my pace, walking next to me in the street. “I know it seems complex, but we have a practice space. Despite what you think, it doesn’t take a witch to conjure magic. Just an abled mind and a good teacher.”

“You’re going to teach me?”

“I can try.”

I stopped and turned to him, “I thought you said the incantations were tricky. Won’t something bad happen if I- WE get them wrong?”

Finn shrugged, “So you die if you get them wrong. Like that’s the worst thing that could happen.”

I snapped my fingers. Suddenly, lights to a garbage truck appeared as it zoomed down the street and smacked into his wide spread eyes, knocking him back a few feet. I heard him mutter something in Gaelic as he lay in the middle of the road but turned to keep walking.

In a blink, he was blocking my path again, “If I didn’t know any better, princess, I’d say you’re flirting with me.” He leaned into me, grinning from ear to ear. “Not every day a girl’s beautiful mind hits me like a truck.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Aye, Jackie, but you made a deal with crazy.”

“I also made a deal with the devil.”

“True, but if he really did tell you about our history, surely you noticed a pattern?”

I was starting to get impatient with him, “Enlighten me.”

“The Devil tosses aside anyone that helps him like yesterday’s garbage.” He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Who says he won’t do you the same courtesy?”

My only response was silence. My mind was racing, Aleister said he wouldn’t betray me, but his track record would say otherwise. Finally, I sighed. “Fine. Where is this safe space exactly? How are you going to teach me all of this?”

Balor extended his arms and looked around.

“Here?” I asked.

“Can’t get hurt in here, Jackie. The little spell I stole from Aleister puts a protective barrier around your mind. I can come and go as I please, but the magic we practice, the spells we will cast, will have no effect inside or outside of your dream world. It’s a neutral zone.”

I looked around, “How DID you steal this spell from Aleister? And what about the other nonsense you casted earlier?”

Balor shrugged, “It was a secret silencing spell. You can’t tell anyone about our little deal until I break it.” He clapped his hands together and as he pulled them apart a thick, leather bound book appeared in his hands. “This is Aleister’s family’s grimoire. Something Lucifer rewarded him with when he took the throne. He’s kept it hidden in this world so his little soliders down below don’t get their claws on it. My vessel followed him to it once, unknowingly so I knew exactly where to snatch it from and replaced it with a fake.”

“He doesn’t know?” I asked. “He said he was going to be checking on a spell to keep you out of my dreams.”

“I swapped it with another one disguised as his. It has most of the same spells, not all, and will keep him from suspecting anything.”

Balor handed me the book. “It’s so heavy,” I said, weighing it in my hands.

“Aye,” he agreed before taking it back. “It’s generations of knowledge and power. Probably the best one I’ve ever seen complied together.”

There was quake that came from our feet. The world around us shook violently. “What’s going on?” I asked him.

“Time to wake up, princess.” Balor wrapped an arm around me tight. “How about a kiss goodbye for your new boss?”

I pushed my way out of his arms, “In your dreams.”

“No, princess, in YOURS” He winked and disappeared.

I shot straight up in bed. Felix was sitting calmly on my lap staring up at me.

“Strange dreams,” I said before giving him a scratch on the head.

His green eyes narrowed at me before hopping off towards his food bowl.

Who’d have thought I’d have to lie to my cat?

Swinging my legs over the side of my bed, I stretched my arms up towards the ceiling. I could hear my phone buzz on my nightstand with a new text message.

Whoever it is can wait until I’ve had my shower, coffee, and pop-tart.

~~~

Chapter Ten ->

Tag List: @fangirls-gotta-fangirl @xladyxfatex @xbreezymeadowsx @rndm-fngrl-blg @nicolewoo @itsicantbelievethis666

#Aleister black #aleister black x reader #finn balor #finn balor x reader #the devil may care fic

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roominthecastle · 5 years

Note

Hi Room, What do you think about the finale? Any theorys about why Katarina did that to Red? And what do you think about the Stranger? Thanks!

To me, the finale in general felt okay, which is strangely comforting bc it wasn’t bad. I’m good with an “okay”. “okay” is an improvement (like I still feel TBL is trying while – to use a concurrent example – GOT gave up on itself and its fans spectacularly). There are individual moments that are more than okay to me (DEMBE, the team work, esp Liz & Red, esp esp Liz taking charge and that tiny moment of synchronized tea drinking) and others are less than (e.g. the conclusion to the conspiracy plot is kinda… ?!), but overall I like how S6 played out and my excitement for (lucky number) 7 is intact. Things are in motion and interesting again, and I finally gave myself permission to do a proper, full-scale re-watch during the summer, maybe attempt to chart the timeline, too, which is sth I never expected to consider doing again. I’m even gonna read the comics. In short, this season pulled me back in the Zone.

the rest is behind a cut due to length – @ mobile app users, apologies as always

Red’s identity, Dom’s story, and Liz’s side of these things

The Stranger: Masha was bound to figure out you aren’t who you say you are. What I can’t figure out is Dom. Why would he tell her all that?Red: In an attempt to help her move on.The Stranger: And she believed him?Red: She did. So much so that she‘s decided it’s safe to bring her daughter home.The Stranger: I know Dom meant well. He shouldn’t have told her that story.

So… having seen this scene, I def have more doubts than before, anon, but I still believe that the gist of the Rassvet story (including Red == Ilya) is true. This is (imo) why Red tells Dom “I know the broad strokes, I know who I am, but I need to hear the details you used to sugarcoat the ugly truth to make it look like a fairytale”, i.e. something that Liz has a tendency to swallow (see changed man!Tim or every paternity test they show her), something she was eager to embrace here, too, despite the obvious holes bc – as she told Ressler – “it is sweet and safe, so I’m gonna overlook things that don’t add up and hope it doesn’t come crashing down on me this time”. But it does. Every time.

Whether we like it or not, this is a consistent trait in Liz, this willingness to settle for a sweet, simple story over the messy, complicated truth even when she has misgivings (see her going at Red in 219, “It wouldn’t kill you to lie just once to make someone feel good.”). She’s not stupid, she’s just scared and unsure, imo (and so is Red but, unfortunately for Liz, being pathologically secretive is still what soothes him). But when there is no sweet story available to make Liz feel good/safe or it’s no longer sustainable, that’s when she grows restless/angry and goes on the offensive until she feels safe again. She did this w/ Tim and then w/ Red, too (she literally locked both of them up to gain control), and both times we can eventually hear her say “I was scared of you but not anymore”, and both times she expresses love for a safe & sweet idea and not the full reality of these men who cannot live up to that idea, so the cycle starts up again (well, not w/ Tim as he is now dead but Red is still in the running.)

It doesn’t really matter if the answer she gets is incomplete or untrue. As long as she can make herself swallow it, as long as it brings a sense of security, she will go for it. Tim played along w/ this and that fantasy bubble collapsed every time. Red never did and never will indulge her w/ sweet delusions but by doing so, he also reduces their “feelgood” time together. He hides behind her father’s identity but for her, he breaks cover repeatedly, which to me further signals that he doesn’t wish to take on the roles associated w/ this identity in her life, which clearly clashes w/ her park bench claim of “this is who you will always be to me”. And given Liz’s track record w/ these self-soothing declarations, I think we will once again see her being contradicted.

Having heard of what’s happened btw her and Red, I think Dom decided to tailor the truth to give them a quick-fix. His story brought a sense of safety/certainty that Liz craves – sth Red refused to offer when he told her he had a secret and he had to keep it and refused to give her any embellished feel-good alternative. But now he is on edge bc some of his secrets have been spilled and it was done in a way that maximizes his discomfort (by making him look like a hero when he considers himself anything but, and, ultimately, by undermining his control over his own “narrative” around Liz). I believe this is part of the reason why he tells Dom that he likely made everything worse by telling her that story.

I hope next season they will be pushed to face more of the actual truth together – in all its ugly, messy glory – about what exactly happened and, more importantly, why. Because we still don’t know much of that. Dom only offered a taste but now Katarina is back to mix some sour to the sweet (I am hungry as I am typing this, can you tell ;)

The Stranger: well, we barely have anything to go on here but what we have is already intriguing, i.e. he grew up w/ Red, he seems to know Dom and Katarina personally, he seems to have some serious tradecraft background + connections, and he is among the v few who is trusted w/ Red’s secrets, so he is inner inner circle for sure (and he’s played by Brett Cullen, so… yes please). I still think the childhood pledge from the Rassvet story is an element of truth (it just fits our Red way too much + I see it reflected in “Cape May”), so I think these 3 (the Stranger, Red, and Kat) were likely childhood friends and they all picked similar career paths (or it was picked for them), so the Stranger is likely Russian, too.

Katarina continues to puzzle me to no end, I freely admit. And I am enjoying it (for now anyway). The finale offered some really interesting details here, imo, and I think Red’s 2nd meeting w/ the Stranger is the most revealing.

Red tasked his mysterious friend to locate Katarina bc Ressler’s dig for his real identity triggered an active search for her, too. The Stranger finds her and hands Red a picture saying, “It’s her. I’m telling you, Raymond. Paper trails. The passports. The travel. It’s her.” What we can immediately conclude here is that they didn’t even know what Kat looks like now since it’s not the picture the Stranger used to identify her but her signature methods/movements (knowledge of this implies a close working relationship in the past at the v least). And since he doesn’t hand Red the pic to ask him to confirm it’s her but to show him what she looks like now, we can also conclude that Red had no idea what she looks like now, either, which means that he hasn’t seen her for almost 3 decades and, apparently, he would have been fine w/ maintaining this arrangement if it hadn’t been for the security risk Ressler’s digging exposed them to.

This conclusion lines up nicely w/ two (imo very important) things established in previous episodes:

Red’s hallucinations at Cape May – he sees Kat the way she looked in 1991/92. His mind couldn’t conjure her present image bc his last memories of her are almost 30 years old. This in turn implies that the Hobson’s choice event took place around this time, as well, and that was the last time he saw her. It was the last time Dom saw her, too, if what he tells Liz in “Rassvet” – that it was 28 years ago – is true.

Katarina being dead – whatever happened to Kat, her own father considers her as good as dead now. So does Red and Dom blames him for this loss, going as far as saying he killed her.

Dom: These boxes are all I have left of my daughter.

Red: If Katarina were standing here instead of me, if it were she asking you, what would you tell her?Dom: It doesn’t matter because she is not here and she’s not asking.Red: But if you could tell her–Dom: I can’t!

Dom (to Liz): If my Katarina was still here, she would have let me know. [… her mother sent a letter hoping it] would find her alive. I picked it up because I knew it never would.”

Liz: You said the name Masha Rostova had been lost to history until the manhunt. Now it’s out there and someone’s looking for me. It’s my mother.Red: Lizzie, your mother is dead.

Her mother was dying, Kat never showed. Her daughter was being hunted and it was televised globally – Kat never showed. And clearly neither Dom nor Red expected her to as they both seem to consider Katarina dead despite being aware that she is still out there somewhere. Moreover, they both believe that Liz is better off thinking her mother is dead than knowing whatever the truth is (so it cannot be too good). Add to this Red’s latest remark to Liz – “your mother can’t hurt you” – and things truly get weird and interesting. Was Kat subjected to some special session w/ Krilov, too, that somehow “extinguished” parts of her, practically rendering her old self “gone”? This would be my current best guess (just a shot in the dark, really) and I know it’s crude sci-fi territory but this is TBL we’re talking about.

Whatever happened to Kat, Red was involved in it, and we have several remarks to back this up:

“All the money, all the time and effort, all the favors in the world cannot possibly equal what you took away from her.” (Red, 216)

“There was a woman and her child. Both were doomed. Both would die. I could either save one or lose both. I chose the child. It was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do in my life.” (Red, 319)

“I’m not sure Elizabeth will ever be ready to learn what you did to Katarina.” (Dembe, 422)

“[Katarina] is gone because of choices you made.” (Dom, 320)

In “Cape May”, Red hallucinated forgiveness/absolution from Katarina but we don’t know if this is how she actually felt. It could have been just Red trying to make himself feel better about doing what he felt to be necessary. Katarina in the present doesn’t seem to be in a forgiving mood, tho. She clearly expected to be contacted and she clearly considered Red’s presence a threat.

Red: If Moscow is looking for Katarina, if Agent Ressler’s inquiry has reignited their search…The Stranger: Then I know that could be bad.Red: I want this done before Masha’s daughter comes home.

So… your guess is as good as mine here, anon. All we have for now is a whole lot of vaguing and very little concrete info. I agree, it feels there’s sth more to this but there’s just so little to go on, it could be almost anything. What we can conclude is that the Stranger and Red (and Dom) have stayed away from Katarina for almost 30 years and if it hadn’t been for Moscow’s freshly reignited interest in finding her, this complete lack of contact would have remained. They didn’t even keep direct tabs on her since they had no idea what she looked like or where exactly she was or that she was a threat to Red (otherwise he would have approached her differently, imo).

They clearly do not want Kat to be found – the precise “why” remains to be seen. Red’s first words to her are a warning – “it’s not safe” –, and I think he truly went there to make sure she wouldn’t be scooped up. That was his immediate objective. If she were found, the consequences would reach Liz and Agnes, and heading that threat off is what ultimately motivates Red here (→ “I want this done before Masha’s daughter comes home.”). He didn’t look too enthusiastic to make contact. He didn’t want to, he had to. And he didn’t tell Liz, which suggests that he wants this separation to remain, which suggests that something is up w/ Katarina that goes beyond the usual “you can’t be in her life bc it’s dangerous” reason. Dom stayed out of Liz’s life, too, for safety reasons yet Red told him to find Liz if anything happened to him. That doesn’t seem to be the case w/ Kat at all. Red himself stayed away from her yet he went to find Dom after Liz “death” and returned several times after that for advice or simply for his company.

The meeting w/ Kat wasn’t a social call and it did not feel like a romantic reunion, either. Red just looked sad and tense to me. And he clearly did not expect to be stabbed, so I don’t think that bit was part of any planned performance. Why he received that treatment is another good question. Kat has clearly come into the possession of some new info that compelled her to go on the offensive. It could be related to their past and that vague remark about what Red did to her OR it is about something more recent that Red wasn’t aware she was aware of?? Right now this moment feels like a convergence of two separate threads: Red came to warn her based on “undisclosed plot point A” and Katarina reacted to him based on “undisclosed plot point B”.

Oh, I love this song, anon. Antis can keep pointing at that awkward kiss (that he doesn’t even initiate, she keeps pushing her face into his) as evidence of some ~epic romance~ all they want, but once again they fail (and/or refuse) to see things in context and “Cape May” was already pretty clear wrt Red’s feelings, I agree. and the finale lines up w/ it, too, which is nice.

Red hasn’t seen her in 30 years yet he only decided to contact Kat bc her looming exposure threatened Liz and Agnes, and when he is shown a picture of her, this is his reaction:

Not exactly what I’d expect from a dude in love (even if it were unrequited). He had a way more emotional reaction to Dembe’s return and he only left like a week ago. This is more like how you react when someone shows you photographic evidence of Bigfoot chilling in their hot tub w/ a beer. And now we know Red knew all along that Katarina was alive, so him “designating” Liz as the woman he loves and confessing (several times both to her and others) that without her he has nothing to live for and saying her name as his last word speak volumes already. So if they wanted to sell Red/Kat, they have already undercut themselves on multiple fronts here by giving literally all the romance tropes to Red/Liz. But I don’t believe they are selling R/K, it’s just another smoke screen + Kat is part of a past both Red and Liz have to settle for the sake of their future. And settling the past is always easier and more fruitful to do w/ a living human than w/ a ghost or a hallucination.

Yeah, I think it’s there to signal that they (Dom and Kat included) go way back and were/are close, like you said. and to indicate shared Russian roots, perhaps. As I said above, I still think Red is Ilya and the Stranger is likely Russian, too, (and so is Dom), so using Liz’s original Russian name makes sense in this context of “Russian togetherness”.

and Red sometimes calls her Masha around Dom, too, bc that’s what Dom calls her bc that’s who she still is to Dom. And I think that’s why Red calls her Elizabeth bc that’s who she is to him, which is a nice little detail further emphasizing that his main/defining connection to her is the present one just as James keeps saying. Or as Red puts it on-screen

I can def see both sides here, anon, and more. Knowing what we know about Red, both are likely among the multiple reasons that underpin his behavior in this scene. Yes, on the one hand, he was pressed for time and wanted that Kat thing done as soon as possible. On the other, he was also kinda closed-off as if he were trying to hold back emotionally as well as physically, which I think flows from 2 main sources: 1) he feels uncomfortable w/ the labels Liz wants to push on him (ever since the pilot he’s been displaying a preference for “partner” and not “father” and he might be reaching his saturation point) and 2) he is still heartbroken and afraid to put himself out there again w/ Liz after three major betrayals in a row. He’s already had a sort of baseline distress due to how emotionally vulnerable he is to Liz at all times, so after this latest heartbreak I think he is just trying to take things slow, leaving space and time for Liz and himself to figure out a mutually acceptable way to fit together.

She’s been using his heart as a knife block to satisfy her own needs and I think it’s making him less and less willing to force himself into slots that feel uncomfortable to him. She just decided that him playing dad and grandad is what suits him but a week ago she thought life in prison suited him the best. I mean… that’s not how you relationship. At all. Relationships are ongoing negotiations where all involved need to consent to their “roles”. It’s not “I hate you now, so I will put you in prison” and then “I love you now, so stay for dinner”. After everything that’s happened, I am not surprised Red is pushing back a little here for the sake of (what’s left of) his own sanity. He is a deeply flawed, problematique human being but he is still a human being and not a toy.

Liz and Agnes are the most important to him and he would never ever force his preferences on them, I completely agree. But that doesn’t mean Liz should be allowed to force her preferences on him esp when those change so often and so drastically bc she clearly doesn’t know what she really wants from him yet. I think this realization is finally truly dawning on this guilt-ridden, lovesick idiot and that’s part of what we see in this scene, esp in that “I don’t wanna intrude” comment that really does feel like a pointed retreat from her abrupt park bench declaration. But of course there is no negotiation w/o talking and that’s what Liz wanted to do before Red shut her down, so…

bottom line (that’s been the same for 6 years): these 2 need to talk.

#anonymous #apicturewithasmile #tbl spec #long post #ramblings

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setaripendragon · 5 years

Text

Freedom to Chuse

Sorry I haven’t been posting much lately. I’ve fallen head-first into a new fandom, and most everything I’ve been writing has been such self-indulgent nonsense that I daren’t post it XD I think I’m starting to get it out of my system, though, so hopefully there might even be some other Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell fics from me soon. I finished watching the series for the second time a couple of days ago, and this just sort of poured out of me at 3am. I don’t know why, but I actually really like Sir Walter? Idk, maybe it’s that bit at the end where he’s like ‘Emma has said she’d rather be dead than as she is now, so I’m going to do everything in my power to help her, even if it might kill her’, like dayum son, now that is how you respect a lady’s autonomy. (I know he kind of cocked that up, too, but, idk, so many people in that show were running around not giving two figs what anybody else wanted, it felt poignant all the same.) So, yeah, post-series (with some influence from the book which I’m currently half-way through), Walter/Emma renegotiating their marriage after everything.

Lady Emma Pole – Miss Emma Wintertowne, as she thought she might rather be from now on – sat at her vanity, waiting for her maid to come and help her begin packing for her trip to the continent. There was a tentative knock at the door, and Emma sighed, irrationally irritated by the delicate caution everyone seemed to be treating her with of late. “Yes, yes, Sarah, come in.” She called impatiently.

The door clicked open, and an entirely unfeminine voice said; “It is not Sarah.” Emma startled, and turned her head to see Walter standing in the doorway, an oddly sheepish, wry little smile curling his mouth. The tentative humour was an expression that suited him, Emma thought, but it slipped away almost as soon as she had thought it, replaced with a touch of strain about the eyes and lips pressed into a tight line. He cleared his throat softly. “May I come in?” He requested, and only then did Emma realise that he had, indeed, been staying just the other side of the threshold.

“Yes, of course.” Emma replied, feeling just a little uncertain herself, now. True, this was her room, and true, her earlier permission had been for Sarah, and not for him, but… It was Walter’s house, and she had given permission for him to enter.

Walter stepped inside, reached for the door as if to close it behind him, and then hesitated. He looked to Emma, one eyebrow raised, indicating the door in question. Asking… for permission? Emma was not quite sure, but she nodded regardless, and Walter swung the door shut gently, before proceeding a little further into the room. His expression settled, then, smoothed out, and Emma recognised it as the one he often wore in the mornings, on his way out the door to parliament. It was how he looked when he was readying himself for a fight, if only a verbal one, and it made Emma tense up in answer.

Perhaps Walter noticed, because he was half way through saying “I wanted t-” before he stopt mid-word, and closed his mouth so fast his teeth clicked, looking unsettled. He cast about for a moment, leaving Emma more tense than ever and even more bewildered, before he asked, in an unusually quiet sort of voice; “Perhaps I- That is, may I please sit?” He asked, gesturing to a neglected little chair in the corner.

Emma blinked, thrown once again entirely off-kilter, but nodded slowly. Walter retrieved the chair from its corner, and sat. There was a little less than half the room between them, still, and Emma began to realise that everything she had taken for a very strange hesitance in a man who was master of his own home was actually consideration. He had not entered her space without an explicit invitation, he had not closed the door – and sealed her only escape route – without her permission, and he was now keeping a distance between them, sitting to avoid looming over her, hesitating to speak while she was still so tense.

It was a stilted attempt at kindness, and Emma felt herself bending in the face of it, if only a little. “What is it, Walter?” She asked, trying to gentle her tone in turn, even if she wasn’t at all sure she succeeded.

Walter tried for a smile, although it sat uneasily on his face. “Ah, I have come to apologise.” He said, simple and to the point, but it still made Emma’s jaw clench. Apologies were worse than useless to her, and she did not care to hear them, but before she could say as much, Walter raised his hands, palm out, to stop her. Emma might not have, even then, except the gesture was eerily reminiscent of a surrender, and it stalled her just long enough for him to say; “Please, my d- Emma, if I may- please, hear me out.”

He was begging. Awkward as a man entirely unaccustomed to begging, but still sincere. She could tell it was sincere, because even though she didn’t speak for nearly a full minute, watching him in confusion and suspicion, he didn’t press his point. He waited, once again, for her permission. “Alright.” She agreed, slumping back in her chair and bracing herself. She could at least hear him out. His consideration for her had earned him that much in turn, she supposed.

Walter took a deep breath, and then began to speak. It had the air of a rehearsed speech, but Emma suspected it was not so much planned as simply something that he had been thinking over for a long time – perhaps all day – trying and retrying his words until he had a more solid idea of the shape of his arguments.

“I know it does you little good now, and I am not- That is to say, I have not come here in any way expecting your forgiveness. But I must at least tell you how… how desperately sorry I am for my part in all you have suffered.” He began, and then paused. He could not meet her eyes, Emma noticed. He was speaking mostly to the wall over her shoulder, hands pressed together as if in prayer between his knees, elbows braced upon his thighs.

It took another cleared throat before he could continue. “I will offer you no justifications or platitudes, I know we’re both aware that I thought I was doing the best thing I could, at the time, but-” His eyes flickered to hers for a brief moment over a rueful grimace. “But I was wrong. I could have done better, I should have been a better husband to you. I should have listened, I should not have jumped to conclusions, I should not have trusted Norrell. I should not have prevented Mrs Strange from visiting, I should not have confined you.” He paused, head tilted a little, and then tried for a smile. “I will not say I should not have sent you to Starecross, because I rather think that was one of the better choices I made, even if it was not wholly mine, nor did I have any idea how beneficial it would be in the end.”

Emma snorted, moved to humour even if it was of a dark sort, and she thought she saw Walte’s smile turn relieved before he ducked his head to hide it. “It was not as though I could have told you what was happening, even had you been listening.” She pointed out. It was not exactly forgiveness, but she could not deny that she could understand, if only begrudgingly, why had had acted as he had. “And I was…” She paused, and tried to find the right word. “…a little erratic in my behaviour.”

“You were desperate.” Walter interjected, in the tone of one dismissing a point raised by the opposition.

Emma looked at him for a long moment, long enough to have his eyebrows rising in confused surprize. It almost made her smile, although there was a sardonic twist to her lips that ruined the expression, she thought. “So were you.”

Walter laughed at that, a tiny huff of bitter amusement as he dropped his head again to stare down at his hands. “Perhaps so, but still, I- I find myself running back over the things I did and the choices I made, and seeing- seeing so many better options. I should have trusted you, should have trusted that you were not simply lost to rationality, that you knew your own mind, and if- if you were having problems, then you might know how best to fix them, not I.”

Emma found she had nothing to say to that, because he was right, and they both knew it. He caught her eye for a moment, and smiled again, bitter and knowing, and nodded. “As I said, I do not ask for your forgiveness. I do not deserve it. I only wished to tell you that I will endeavour to do better from now on.”

That made Emma frown, because she thought she had made it clear, this morning, that she would not be staying in Harley Street, that she would not be staying with him. She was free of the Gentleman with the Thistle-Down Hair, and by god, she would be free of all others, too, even her husband. “If this is your way of attempting to convince me to stay-” She began, heatedly.

“It is not.” Walter interrupted. Emma glared at him for that, but now he was meeting her stare, level and solemn. It was not a challenge, not quite, but it was a sort of defiance. It felt like he was daring her to find any hint of deceit in his countenance, and she had to admit she couldn’t.

“What is it, then?” Emma demanded, feeling frustrated and confused. “What do you want?”

Walter sighed again, and Emma glared at him impatiently. “I want you to know that I never wished for your confinement. I never desired your obedience.” Emma scoffed, and Walter shook his head in a frustration of his own. “Yes, sometimes I may have wished that you would listen to me, but do not mistake a momentary frustration for any sort of desire for your subservience!” He snapped, startling Emma. His loss of temper seemed to startle him as well, and he slumped back in his chair and ran his hands over his face. “Forgive me, Emma, I did not mean to shout.” He sighed.

Emma considered that, and then decided rather than offering forgiveness, she would ignore the loss of composure. “You locked me up when I would not do as you wished.” She pointed out.

“Because I was afraid you would do yourself harm.” Walter replied wearily. “But… Emma, before things turned- I loved you for your spiritedness, for your boldness and, yes, even your defiance.” He smiled then, such a gentle and tender expression that Emma found herself utterly struck by it. “If you wish to go to the continent, Emma, I will not stop you. If you wish to never step foot in this house again, I will not make you. If- If you wish never to see my face again, I shall not- I shall not impose upon you.” That last caused him pain just to utter, Emma could see it, could hear it in the way his voice broke, and she swallowed against her own emotions as they tried to rise to meet his. “But I could not bear the thought of you leaving while you still believed that I-” He stopt and shook his head, apparently unable to find words.

Still, Emma thought she understood what he was trying to say. “And if I wished to slit my own wrists again?” She asked him, coldly.

Walter’s head jerked up, eyes wide with very real fear, and Emma almost felt sorry for doing this to him, but she could not – she would not – let him believe that he was not her gaoler by telling himself pretty lies about how he would safeguard her free will, so long as what she willed was acceptable. “E-Emma?” He asked, voice shaking.

“If I wished, sir, to take my own life, would you stop me?” She demanded. And then she rose to her feet, unable to remain sitting, and began to pace. “If I wished to- to take up magic as a hobby, would you stop me? If I wished to bathe naked in the Thames, would you stop me?”

“I do not-” Walter began, looking thoroughly taken-aback, and Emma was suddenly furious with him for it. She strode across the room to him, stood over him, looming quite deliberately in the way he refused to do to her, and stared him down.

“What are the limits, sir? Where is the line? You’ll respect my freedom, you say, but is it truly unconditional, or is it simply a greater degree of freedom, until? Until what? Until I hurt myself again? Until I shame you? Until I harm you? Until I harm someone else? At what point will you decide, once again, that I am clearly mad and should be locked away at the mercy of men and strangers?!”

“I-” Walter began, and then stopt, looking deeply distressed. “I do take your point, Emma.” He acknowledged carefully, and Emma wanted to scream at him. “But you- No, that is not- For god’s sake, Emma, what would you have me say?”

“The truth.” Emma demanded. “Be honest with me, Walter. How far does your belief in my freedom extend?”

Walter ran his hands over his face, looking rather wild-eyed. “It is not as though it is solely up to me, Emma. At least some of the things you asked about are crimes. Good Lord, what do you expect would happen if you tried to shoot someone again?! They’d hang you!”

“I’m not asking about them!” Emma yelled, sudden and far louder than anything else they’d said so far, even when their tempers got the better of them. Walter flinched. Emma took a breath, and lowered her voice. “I’m not asking the law, Walter, I’m asking you.” Her voice shook, and she hated the weakness it betrayed. “Do you truly wish to champion my freedom to act as I chuse, or is it simply that now that you expect me to once again act within the bounds you have determined as reasonable, you feel you can offer me the illusion of it and so gain yourself some peace of mind?”

Walter did not answer straight away, only staring at her with wide, stunned eyes. Emma was content to wait. She did not want him to blurt out the first answer he wanted to be true. She wanted him to truly think about it, to question his own resolve now, and not at a moment later, when she would be depending on him to have her back, and he would falter.

In that moment, she had a revelation of her own. She wanted him to be sincere. It was a shock, because in the wake of her imprisonment and her newly regained freedom, she had forgotten a time, before the enchantment, before magic, that Walter had been… someone she had thought would be very easy to love. It was different, now, of course. Then, she would not have railed so fiercely against restrictions of any sort, she would have accepted his authority over her as her husband because that was simply how things were done. She could not accept anything of the sort, now, but she was not a different person. She was not so thoroughly changed that there wasn’t a small kernel of longing in her, for the sort of companionship and affection they had shared so briefly before the enchantment took its toll.

She was startled out of her thoughts when Walter moved. Her jaw sagged open as he shifted forwards, slid off the chair entirely, and lowered himself to one knee before her. “Emma.” He began, his voice suffused with feeling. “I cannot promise that I will not argue with you, that I will not fight you with words if ever you chuse to do something I do not agree with. But I give you my word that I’ll never again attempt to restrain you by force, no matter what you chuse to do.”

Emma’s eyes stung, but she found herself smiling regardless. She felt shaky and giddy and a little wild. She reached out and brushed her fingers over Walter’s cheek, her heart skipping a beat when he turned his face into her touch just a little. “Good. You know, I think I should enjoy arguing with you, on occasion.” She mused through a growing smile.

Walter laughed, a little shaky himself, but he was also smiling up at her with a joyful light in his eyes. “I am at your service.” He promised, half joking, and half very much not. Emma thrilled with it, biting her lip on a grin that was taking a turn towards the wicked, and then bent down to kiss him.

#Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell #Sir Walter Pole #Lady Emma Pole #Is there a ship name for them?#Walter/Emma

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