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thelukesalvez · 7 months

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Luke Alvez x Reader: Concussed

Request: do you think you could do some type of situation with luke where he has to clean a cut on your forehead or something? like that cute awkward moment 😭 (i hope this makes sense)

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: blood mention

A/N: Plsssss I miss him sm, enjoy!!

Every single day, you fought actual, literal bad guys for a living. The worst of the worst– the kind local police needed help handling. You drew your weapon more than you could keep track of and chased unsubs down the street at least once a month.

And yet, it was the bird feeder that did you in.

To be fair– you figured technically, it was the ladder that you were standing on in a feeble attempt to hang the bird feeder that was the real culprit. But as you sat in the grass with a bruised ass and ego, you figured the details weren’t really that important.

Once the initial shock from the whole ordeal wore off, you slowly started to stand up– emphasis on the slowly. Because it became inherently clear as soon as you tried to move that you’d been hit in the head harder than you initially thought.

“Fuck,” you hissed as soon as your fingers grazed the sensitive spot on your forehead. When you pulled your hand away, you were horrified to see the thick, crimson liquid coating your fingers. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you winced, bracing your hands on your knees while you stood the rest of the way up.

“You try to do something nice… like feed the fucking birds, and look what happens,” you muttered to the universe. “You fall on your ass and get concussed by a goddamn bird feeder.”

A concussion would definitely help explain the absurd amount of talking you were doing to absolutely nobody.

With what little dignity you had left (which was practically zero) you picked up the smashed bird feeder from the ground and trudged across the lawn towards the open garage door. After setting it down near the overflowing trash bin, you dragged your feet the rest of the way inside.

You made it about two feet before you heard a knock coming from the front door.

Frowning, you wondered who the hell would be knocking at your door at 11 o’clock on a Sunday morning. Your curiosity made you forget all about your almost-certain concussion, as you slid across the kitchen towards where the knocking continued. Because you weren’t a total idiot (bird feeder to the forehead aside) you peaked through the curtains cautiously, hoping to catch a glimpse of your visitor. Everything inside of you loosened the moment you laid eyes on Luke– the newest member of your team and your neighbor only four houses down (which you’d learned from a brief conversation with him only days ago).

He was dressed in a plain, gray T-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, his muscular calves on full display. You watched for only a moment longer, trying to control the butterflies suddenly flying rampant through your stomach. Luke had only been a part of the team for a couple weeks, but you were already learning that he had this sort of effect on you. Something about his smile– or the way he laughed, or the way he told the funniest jokes, and always knew what to say when someone was having a tough day– or the way he so obviously cared about the people you helped and was always so empathetic… Come to think about it, you adored just about everything about Luke.

Before he could catch you gawking over him through the window like an absolute lunatic, you snapped the blinds closed and made your way to the front door. As soon as you swung it open, you were faced with arguably the most handsome man you’d ever met.

“Luke, hi!” you greeted happily.

But his face went from excited to horrified to angry in the blink of an eye.

“Y/N, what the hell?

His beautiful, warm eyes went dark as they swept over the length of you. And that was the moment you remembered what you currently looked like–

With all the excitement of seeing Luke, you had totally forgotten that you’d fallen off a ladder and mauled by a bird feeder only moments ago.

His shock quickly turned to anger as he took a step forward, so that he was standing right in front of you. “Who did this?” he asked, his tone solid and protective. His hand hovered near your jaw but didn’t quite touch you.

“What?” you shook your head, and winced as soon as you did. “No–”

“Y/N, who did this to you?”

“No one–” you said quickly. “I mean– I did. Not on purpose–” you clarified. “I fell.”

“You fell?” he asked in disbelief, his tone softening just the slightest bit.

You nodded. “I was trying to hang the bird feeder, but the ladder slipped on the leaves on the lawn. It was stupid–”

“Jesus,” Luke winced as his fingers ghosted along the edge of your jaw. You couldn’t help the sudden, sharp inhale through your lips the second that you felt his touch graze your skin. “I could’ve helped you with that, you know. Why didn’t you ask–”

“Because I didn’t think bird suet would be the death of me today,” you admitted feebly. You hoped the dirt and blood from your fall was at least hiding the blush creeping up your neck and cheeks.

A soft chuckle escaped Luke’s lips, but the look of concern remained.

“That’s a pretty nasty cut,” he said. “Let me help you clean it up.”

“Oh that’s okay,” you waved him away. “You don’t have to do that–”

“Did you even notice that you had blood all over your collar?” he asked, nodding slightly.

You look down quickly and groan as soon as you see that your beige pullover was stained in a dark shade of crimson.

“I think you’re probably a little concussed,” he added. “At least let me make sure you’re not dealing with anything worse. I used to help the medic sometimes in the field. Plus– I brought homemade muffins.”

Your eyes widened at the sight of the plastic container being raised in Luke’s other hand. “You brought baked goods?”

“Muffins– yes.”

A wave of emotions washed over you. You didn’t have the best dating history– there was the guy who kept you a secret from his entire family (wife that you had no idea about included), then there was the guy who would cancel all your dates to spend time playing video games with his friends. And how could you forget about the guy who would conveniently “forget” his wallet every time you went out.

And now here you were– standing in front of a man you’d known for only a couple of weeks and he was bringing you homemade muffins.

“I–” you stammered. “I don’t– I can’t–”

“Woah,” Luke said, taking another step forward. “Maybe you should sit down. I think you’re more concussed than we thought.”

You shook your head. “I’m not concussed. Or… I probably am. But I mean, I’m just shocked–” you admitted. “No one’s ever done something like this before.”

“You said pumpkin muffins reminded you of home– and then you said later that day that you were feeling homesick. So–” his voice trailed off. You thought you might have detected a hint of embarrassment in his tone.

Your eyes widened even more.

“This is making me sound way creepier than I am–” Luke stammered. “I just… I was baking anyway, and I had a can of pumpkin just lying around... I didn’t go out of my way or anything in a weird way…”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” you said, meaning it. “Seriously, Luke. Thank you. I don’t… I don’t know how to repay you.”

“How about letting me help clean that cut up?” he asked, throwing you a cheeky grin.

The corner of your mouth curled into a smile. “Fine,” you agreed, finally stepping back to let him inside. After closing the door, you turned to find him setting the plastic container down on the counter.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” he asked.

“Uh, under the sink in the bathroom,” you said, still convinced you hadn’t processed any of this yet.

“And the bathroom is…” his voice trailed off.

“Oh–” Luke looked so damn natural standing in your kitchen, you forgot he’d never actually been here before. “Down the hall, last door on the left.”

“Got it. Be right back.” With that, Luke was taking his uncharacteristically long strides down your hall before disappearing in the bathroom.

For the first time since answering the door, you raised your hand and touched your temple. Wet liquid still coated your forehead, despite how much time had passed since the accident. Maybe it was a good thing you were agreeing to let Luke help.

He was back in an instant, holding a damp washcloth and the small first aid kit you’d ordered online months ago, but hoping to never use.

“In here,” he nodded towards the kitchen. “The lighting’s better.”

You nodded, realizing he really didn’t have to explain. You and your concussed brain would follow him just about anywhere. Your eyes really widened when he patted the counter, indicating that he wanted you to sit on it.

You didn’t even question his logic though. Instead, you swiftly slipped onto the lip of the granite counter and waited aimlessly while Luke fished around your first aid kit for what he needed. You were level with him now, your gaze trailing down the length of his thick, muscular body. You studied the lines and curves of his skin better. You noticed every crease– every laugh line, every freckle. God, was he always this beautiful?

Out of nowhere a smirk spread across his lips. “You’re staring.”

Blinking harshly, you tilted your head towards the ceiling, the bright light hitting your eyes and making you wince. “Fuck,” you grunted, dropping your head and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Shit, you okay?” he asked carefully, dropping the kit to cup your cheek carefully. You felt the pressure on your neck ease as you allowed yourself to lean into his touch.

Carefully you opened your eyes and nodded. “Yeah– just the light.”

“You’re definitely concussed,” he stated, eyes traveling from yours to the cut on your forehead. “Did you hurt anything else besides your forehead?”

“Is the gash not enough?” you asked dryly, missing the feeling of his touch the moment he moved his hand.

Luke chuckled. “Oh, the gash is plenty. Just checking, though. Here–” you felt his touch against your face again. This time, his fingers grazed along your chin, tipping it slightly. “Can you lift just a bit for me?”

You nodded and moved your head in the direction he gestured. “'Atta girl,” he said, your stomach churning at his praise. You felt him press the washcloth to your temple gently, swiping up dried blood. As he neared the actual wound, you found yourself tensing up. But when you gripped the sleeve of his T-shirt, Luke didn’t even mention it. Instead he traced his thumb up and down your jaw soothingly and whispered reassurances. “I’m sorry, I know, I know–”

“It’s okay,” you said through gritted teeth. “It’s my own stupid fault. Too bad you didn’t show up just a few minutes earlier, you might have actually gotten to see the show.”

“So remind me again how this happened– you fell off a ladder?”

“Well, sort of,” you explained. “I was trying to hang my bird feeder– on the tall branch. But the ladder slipped on the leaves, which I’ve been meaning to rake for weeks now… and when I fell the bird feeder sort of fell too… on my head.”

You dared to steal a glance towards Luke. The second you did, you noticed him biting back a smile.

“You can laugh,” you said defeatedly. “It’s completely ridiculous. A little stupid, too.”

“It’s not stupid,” he said, composing himself.

“We took down a six foot unsub last week,” you reminded him. “Yet the bird feeder is what does me in.”

“Well… when you put it that way,” Luke smirked.

“If anyone at work asks, you have to lie for me,” you pleaded. “Tell them it was something heroic.”

“I’ll tell them you saved a baby bird from a tree. Instead of letting it fall to its death, you broke the fall with your forehead.”

“That makes me sound so noble,” you laughed.

“Get ready,” Luke warned as he dabbed some alcohol on a gauze pad.

“Shit,” you muttered, trying to brace yourself, not even thinking as you moved to grip his bicep.

“Squeeze as hard as you need,” he said softly. “Ready?”

You weren’t. But you nodded anyway.

The stinging sensation ripped through you, causing an onslaught of swear words to escape your lips. You gripped Luke’s arm desperately, your fingers digging into his skin. If you weren’t completely consumed by pain, you would’ve noticed how strong his muscles felt beneath your touch.

“Almost done,” he murmured, dabbing a few more spots before finally setting down the gauze. “There. Breathe.”

You nodded, your eyes still snapped shut as you attempted to inhale and exhale.

“Good job,” he soothed. When you opened your eyes, your breath hitched when you noticed how close Luke’s face was to yours.

His jaw tensed, shadows dancing across his face, and you immediately wished you could lean forward and just kiss that look of concern right off from his lips. Your eyes lingered on them for a beat too long– because you heard Luke clear his throat and tilt his head back.

Embarrassed, you looked down at your hands folded in your lap.

“Last step,” he said quietly, pulling a large bandaid and some antibiotic cream from the first aid kit.

You nodded, shaking yourself out of the desire before holding your head up to give him better access to your cut. Carefully, Luke placed the cream and bandage over your cut. “There,” he murmured softly.

His hand shifted on its own accord, fingers moving to brush loose strands of hair that had fallen into your face, before traveling down the length of your jaw, chin and neck.

God, he really was beautiful.

Luke smirked. “Thanks.”

“What?” you whispered.

“I think you’re beautiful, too.”

Oh, shit. Had you really said that out loud? And was that the concussion speaking or just this intense, surreal intoxication you felt for Luke?

Involuntarily, you sucked in a breath, and then you did something you knew you wouldn’t have been brave enough to do unless you really were concussed– you leaned forward and pressed your mouth against Luke’s without a second thought. It was a soft brush at first, testing to see if he wanted to pull away. When he didn't, you slid forward on the counter and wound your arms around his neck.

Luke’s other hand, the one that wasn’t cupping your face like he was afraid you’d break, landed on your hip. His fingers dug into your side as he pulled you closer to him. Your body fit against his like it was made for kissing him.

Your hands found their way to the nape of his neck, where you twisted your fingers amongst his curls. He moaned in approval, and you smiled into the kiss– into him, and it was nearly devastating when he pulled away and didn't smile back.

And then Luke was sinking his teeth into his bottom lip and taking a step back. “You’re concussed,” he said. “I’m sorry, this can’t happen– you’re… not in the right state of mind.”

Embarrassed, you slid off from the counter and wiped your mouth with your sleeve. “I’m sorry–” you stammered. “I didn’t realize you didn’t want to–”

Before you could slip past Luke– to run or hide or whatever the hell you could think to do– he shook his head and gently placed his hand on your hip, guiding you until your back collided with the counter. “I want to,” he said clearly, lowering his forehead so that it was pressed against yours. “God knows I’ve wanted to since the day I met you.”

It took a minute for his words to find meaning in your own brain. But as soon as they did, you looked up at him hopefully, your eyes widening. “Really?”

“Fuck, yes,” he rasped, his thumb wiping a tear you hadn’t even realized was falling. “Are you kidding me? I don’t just bring pumpkin muffins to anyone… That was my attempt at making a move.”

“Instead I got clocked with a bird feeder before throwing myself at you,” you groaned. You leaned forward and rested the non-injured side of your head against Luke’s chest.

“If I didn’t think you had a pretty severe concussion, I would more than welcome you throwing yourself at me,” Luke assured you.

You scoffed. “The concussion may have given me the courage to throw myself at you, but I’ve been wanting to do it way longer.”

You felt his chuckle vibrate beneath you. “I’ll tell you what…” he began, his hand sprawling out against your back. “You still want me after you’re not concussed, and you won’t have to throw yourself at me ever again.”

A shiver ran down your spine– your body thrilled with the idea. “Deal.”

“In the meantime, how about I hangout here? Make sure no more bird feeders fall on your head.”

You smiled against his chest, unable to contain the feelings he elicited inside of you. “I’d like that,” you admitted.

#luke alvez #criminal minds #luke alvez imagine #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez fic #luke alvez x reader imagine #criminal minds imagine #luke alvez x reader fic #luke alvez x reader fanfic #criminal minds x reader

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i-eat-worlds · 1 month

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Wow Birthday Whump Day 7: Bloodied knuckles / Wounded / "Is that blood?!"

featuring made up words!

Content: minor injuries, blood, medic caretaker

Half past midnight, Turquoise Team finally returned to their locker room. All of them were covered in all the standard post-mission sweat, dirt, and grime, and they all smelled absolutely awful. All and all, the mission had gone well. Lives had been saved, and the team's spirit was high.

“Can someone unzip me?” Teri called across the room, turning around. While INSUPA uniforms had many benefits: custom fit, stab proof fabric, lots of pockets, ease of doing was not one of them. She’d been able to get her outer, armored shell off, but the jump suit provided its own challenges.

“I can.” Joseph offered. He crossed the room in several quick strides, his suit top already gone and replaced by a red tee. Maybe she should consider the two piece option next time they reordered. He swept her hair out of the way, then reached for the zipper.

Halfway down, just below her shoulder blades, he stopped. “Is that blood on your undershirt?” His voice was filled with concern. “Teri, did you get hit?”

All of the team’s eyes snapped over to her, looking at the dark, rusty stain on the white y-back she wore as an underlayer. Eric was already bringing Joseph’s medical bag over.

“Not that I can remember…” She craned her neck around to look, inching in pain as she tugged at the wound. “Could you take a look at it?”

“Of course.” He’d been pulling on the spare pair gloves he kept in his right pocket before she’d even asked. “How about you sit on the bench?”

She listened, sitting down on the wooden bench and then pulling the sleeves of her suit down to expose the area a little better. As Joseph cut away the back of her undershirt, she parsed through her memories of the mission trying to figure out if there was a time when she could’ve been hurt. They hadn’t fought anybody, not directly. Her armor wasn’t even dinged.

Joseph’s fingers brushed against her skin as he inspected the injury. “It’s a lot of small, pretty supercial cuts.” His voice was still uneasy.

“There's petechiae, these were definitely caused by carnokenesis.” A esh manipulator, that explained it. “Weak one by the looks of it, but everyone needs to check themselves over.”

They team started to pat themselves down, making sure that they weren’t also wounded, and checking for spots of blood and the small, purplish dots that carnokenesis always left behind.

Teri stayed still, letting Joseph tend to the wound on her back. His hands were gentle as he worked, covering each little cut with a quick swipe of antibiotic ointment and then pressing a bandage over them.

“You’re good.” He pulled his hands away from her back. “Keep the dressings dry, I can help you change them in the morning.”

“Thanks,” she said, trying to carefully remove her arms from the sleeves without aggravating the injury.

He pulled his gloves off, tossing them into the trash can. “It’s not a problem.”

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps@rainydaywhump@painful-pooch@rainbowsandwhumperflies@snaillamp @whumperofworlds

#worlds babbles #whump #wow birthday whump #wow birthday whump day 7 #wounded #“is that blood?”#minor injuries #medical whump #medic caretaker #caretaking

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stardustndreamsofsilver · 1 year

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Figment

Part Three

Jake x Reader (f)

Warnings: none

Find All Parts Here

The next morning you woke up to the sound of birds outside your window. Opening your eyes, you sit straight up in bed. All the memories from the night before come flooding back. Jake suddenly disappearing. The panic and fear taking over before you blacked out. How did you get into bed? When did you change into the pajamas you were wearing the morning before? Your heart started to race. Throwing off the blanket, you rush out of bed and toward the hall. Just as you step out of your bedroom, you hear, “Hey babe?”

You stop in your tracks. “Yeah?” You answer nervously.

“Can you come here for a second?”

The feeling of deja vu courses through you. “Sure, hold on!”

Walking toward where you’d heard the voice come from, you swallow thickly. Trying to calm yourself, you take a deep breath and enter the sunroom. There he was, sitting in the same spot as he was yesterday. Confusion swept over you. What was going on? Where had he gone last night? Why had he said those words?

“Hey baby. I heard you get out of bed, so I wanted to see if you wanted to go get breakfast at that little cafe you love.” Jake said with a soft smile, acting as if nothing had happened.

“Uh, sure. Jake, what happened last night? Where did you go?” You question.

“I didn’t go anywhere.” Jake says with a confused expression. “You came home late from work and went straight to bed.”

“Did I?” You ask, raising your hand to your head. “Are you sure? What day is it?”

“I’m sure. It’s Sunday.” Jake says with a furrowed brow.

Sunday. But Sunday was yesterday. Sitting in the chair closest to you, you run your hands through your hair. How is that possible? Jake stands from his seat and walks over to you. Kneeling beside you and placing his hand on your thigh, he looks up at you and asks what’s going on and if you’re okay.

“I— I don’t know. Maybe it was all just a dream.” You mumble.

Then you remember the journal entry you’d started before Jake called for you the day before. Practically leaping out of the chair, you jog to your office. Walking around your desk you grab your journal and open it. Everything you’d written was gone. It was if it had never even been written. Jake comes in as your flop into your office chair.

“What’s going on?” He asks, worry lacing his voice.

“I had the most bizarre dream.” You say.

You proceed to tell him all about it. About how he’d called for you the same way he had this morning. How he’d said he’d missed you because you’d been so busy with work. About the two of you spending the day together. You told him about the dinner you’d made and how you’d eaten it on the back porch. You told him the song that played as he swayed you back and forth. The words he’d said before everything started to spiral. How you’d searched for him and there was no trace of him anywhere.

“That is some dream. I’m sorry it scared you so much.” Jake says as he pushes off the desk he’d leaned against as you spoke.

“It felt so real.” You mutter.

“Sounds like it. But I can promise you it wasn’t. I’d never not eat a perfectly good steak.” He jokes.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Yeah, that really should have clued me in, huh?” You chuckle.

“It really should have.” He laughs.

Taking your hand, he pulls you up out of the chair and into his arms. “Let’s get you dressed and out of the house. We can do whatever you want today.” He says, kissing your temple.

“Sounds good to me.” You breathe.

Leaving the office, you go and get dressed. After you’re dressed, you walk into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee before you and Jake go out for the day. Grabbing the old coffee pod, you go to throw it away. Opening the trash can lid, you freeze. Inside is a white bag. The words ‘The Baked Bear’ written across it. The bakery you’d ordered dessert from. The bag you’d grabbed from the delivery person. Your face goes pale and you feel all warmth leave your body.

The sound of footsteps jerks you out of your stupor. Putting the coffee pod back in the coffee maker, you go to the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

“Are you ready babe?” Jake asks with a smile.

“Yep, let me just grab my purse.” You say sweetly, acting as if nothing was amiss.

You grab your purse and head outside. The two of you walk to the car and get in. Once you’d buckled and settled in, Jake reaches over and grabs your hand.

“I love you.” He says.

You smile and say it back. Jake grins and starts the car. As he pulls out of the driveway, you look out the window and rack your brain for an explanation for what is going on. Nothing seems to make sense. Shaking your head, you inhale deeply.

“Jake, if it was all a dream, why was there a bag from the bakery we ordered from in the trash?” You question.

Jake stops the car and looks over at you. Eyes dark and cold. “You saw that?” is the last thing you hear before the world once again goes dark.

#jake kiszka #jake gvf #jake kiszka gvf #jake kiszka greta van fleet #jake x reader #gvf jake #gvf blurb #gvf imagine #gvf fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf series #gvf mystery #greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van mystery #greta fic

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avionvadion · 1 year

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Summary: Grumpy “Doctor” Calip realizes he cares more than he realized about the reckless idiots that constantly barge into his home, and after having an unwanted surprise visit from Iliandra’s father, he comes to an important decision.

Alternative Summary: Calip meets Iliandra’s trash father and mistakenly believes Link is Iliana’s biological little brother, and decides to warn them the next time they meet.

This wasn’t exactly how Calip expected the day to go.

Everything was fine that morning; he reviewed the notes he took on the cursed statue he’s been studying, and making new ones based on his more recent findings, and after adding a few new sketches he returned home. He avoided the monsters that would inevitably show up at night and made it safely to his home, and once there he continued his research.

The warmth of flame from lighting the fireplace eased the pain in his old bones, and he hovered over the pages in his notes, going from chapter to chapter trying to make sure there was nothing he missed. He was so close to cracking the riddle; he was so sure of it. The answer was on the tip of his tongue.

So why couldn’t he find it? What was he missing?

A heavy silence hung in the air. Calip could hear the crackling of wood as it burned in his fireplace, and the trees rustling from the wind outside. Aside from the sounds of nature, it was completely quiet.

Too quiet.

Calip hadn’t quite noticed before, the silence of the woods was actually quite eerie. He had thought he had grown used to it over all these years, yet something about the owls and crickets cawing and chirping sent a chill down his spine.

He was safe in his little wooden house, but everyone else… were susceptible to the rage and bloodthirsty of the wandering Stalfos.

Those kids…

He hasn’t seen them in quite a while. Calip had gotten used to Link and Iliana bursting into his hut without permission or invitation, the duo making themselves at home as they often bled from new wounds from their adventures.

The old archeologist didn’t know what exactly it was they got up to, or why a pair of youngsters like them were running around picking fights with dangerous monsters and even deadlier machines, but each time they showed up Calip had to pull out his first-aid kit and help stitch them up, if not stave off the bleeding and applying ointment to burns.

He still remembers the first time he met Link, the boy barely dressed and nearly starved to death, covered head-to-toe in scars and burns and dirt, and the day after when he brought Iliana, the woman soaked head-to-toe after falling off a cliff and being swept away in the river, arm and side both bleeding profusely.

Though their situations were vastly different, the two were clearly cut from the same cloth, and had very little care for whether they inconvenienced a man as busy as him. Reckless, impulsive, foolish- the list could go on. But whenever they appeared, Calip could always expect a warm meal to be waiting for him when he returned to the hut, the duo cooking together and sharing their meal with him as thanks for his begrudging hospitality.

They showed up every few days, bringing life to the dusty old hut that Calip had found himself hiding away in as he researched his life away. Injured and bleeding, but smiling ear-to-ear and happily inviting him to share a meal with them.

They were the only ones in this godforsaken kingdom who seemed to care about his existence, and referred to him by his title, Doctor Calip. For a pair of kids, they were the only ones to treat him with any sort of respect, despite their blatant disrespect towards everything else. For all their foolishness, they held an intelligence most did not, and were stronger than the average mortal.

So why have they been gone for so long? Are they alright? They didn’t get themselves into a situation they couldn’t escape from, did they? Are they still alive?

“Why do I even care…?” Calip resisted the urge to sigh and pushed up his glasses, scowling. “What a load of nonsense.”

It had nothing to do with him whether those two survived or not. He never even wanted anything to do with them in the first place. They just barged into his life unannounced and uninvited. Their disappearing like this was practically a blessing, for Calip could focus on his research without worrying about whether he would have to clean up a child’s bloodied corpse from his floor or not.

Good riddance, is what he should be saying.

Shaking his head, Calip turned away from his desk and made his way over to the lamp, about to turn the light off, when a knock on the door caught his attention. Before the old man could tell the stranger to go away, the door opened…

And what greeted him startled the man, for his features resembled the two young adventurers that often burst into his own and made themselves comfortable.

With brilliant sun-blond hair tied back and eyes as blue as the ocean, features strong and pronounced, with scars covering his muscled arms and handsome face, he was the very picture of a hero. But the look in his eyes, the coldness, is what ruined it.

There was a lack of empathy there. A lack of warmth. He was a seasoned warrior, certainly, but he was no hero. He was just the illusion of one.

Even the youngsters that burst into his home every now and then, covered in scars and blood and dirt, sleep-deprived and hungry, would be more worthy of being called heroes than this man in front of him. The grin the stranger sent him only served to unnerve Calip more.

“Ah, perfect.” The sun-blond warrior said, not even bothering to greet him properly. “I have something to ask you.”

Furrowing his brow, a chill going down his spine as those ocean blue eyes met his own green ones, he watched as the man crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned against the doorframe, rooting himself and making it clear he would not leave if asked.

“I’m… looking for someone. A young woman.” As he spoke, his velvet voice deepened and his eyes glinted with something dangerous, something warning Calip this man was one not to be crossed. “Brown hair and eyes, mute, and carries an Ocarina. Dresses in blue. Have you seen her?”

Ah. Iliana.

But… there was something off about that description. Iliana wasn’t a mute. She spoke plenty- loudly, even, and often talked for Link when the silent boy didn’t feel like signing.

What on earth made this frightening man think she wasn’t able to speak?

“She’s my eldest.” The stranger continued, only confusing the old archeologist more. His fingers dug into his arms, and Calip felt sweat start to bead down the back of his neck, his tunic clinging to his skin. The man flashed Calip a small grin. “The damn brat ran away from home.”

Slowly but surely, pieces were clicking together in the older man’s mind.

Iliana and Link.

Link showed up out of nowhere one day, amnesiac and starving, practically half-dead. He found and saved Iliana the day after, the girl also amnesiac, and the two have stuck together ever since. Both also bear a strong resemblance to this man. And on Iliana’s back… were scars. Ones that were at least ten years old.

Calip didn’t want to believe it, but perhaps the reason they were adventurers was to escape this man. They acted like siblings, so perhaps they really were. Iliana was also a few years older than Link.

Her being this man’s eldest would make perfect sense, if Link is his other child.

“My name’s Link, by the way.” The sun-blond finally introduced himself, bringing the gears of Calip’s brain to a halt. The elderly man stared in shock at the man. He was smirking. “So, have you seen her?”

“…Link?” Hah, this man must truly be full of himself. Not only did he name his son after himself, but he abused both the boy and his sister. Disgusting filth. Men like him are half the reason why Calip can’t stand people. “Hmph. No. I’m rather busy conducting research, so I don’t have time for pointless chatter with strangers.”

The man called Link clicked his tongue, clearly displeased. “Is that so? Shame. Well, if you do see her- come to Lurelin. I’ll make sure you’re rewarded generously for the trouble.”

As if to make sure Calip got his point, Link pulled a decently sized ruby from his pocket and tossed it to him. The archeologist caught it instinctively, startled by the action. “Pardon?”

“Thanks again. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

Calip watched as the man turned around and walked away, a soldier’s claymore hanging from his back. Heavily disturbed by the transaction that just occurred, he closed the door and dropped the ruby on a nearby table, stumbling over and taking a seat on his bed.

One arm draped over his legs, he brought his free hand up to his face, the old man pale and feeling sick to the stomach. “Link… huh?”

If Calip ever sees either of the youngsters again, he’s certainly not going to Lurelin.

No.

He’s going to tell them of their father’s visit, and warn them of his search. As much of a nuisance as they could be at times, they were still young- and did not deserve to be forced back into whatever hell that filthy creature disguised as a man wanted to return them to.

Calip was old.

He was old and he was spiteful, and he had built a home in the woods of an ancient fort to study ruins and hide away from the people that would look down upon and mock him, despising their idiocy and ignorance, but Link and Iliana had forced their way into his life and by the goddess he was not going to let them suffer anymore than they already had.

That said, he really needed to start remembering to lock that door.

#BotW #botw fanfic #BotW Calip #Doctor Calip #botw link #BotW oc #iliana and link have a chaotic sibling dynamic #breath of the wild

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lady-yandere · 1 year

Text

The Boy in the Mirror {Yandere Mirror being x F! Reader}

Here is my into story for My OC Kagami! I hope you like it My Sweeties!

Warnings: Isolation, mention of death, breakdown, mention of violence.

____________

An old woman swept outside a small antique shop on a brisk autumn afternoon. The crunching of fallen leaves as her broom moved across the welcome mat. With a satisfied smile she nodded and turned back to the front door, going inside. The shop is how one would imagine, Knick knacks of all kinds, statues and teacups, decorative spoons in wooden cases with glass windows and ornate furnishings from times gone by. The smell of apple pie candles in the air.

Hanging up her broom nearby, the old woman made her way behind the counter. Not many customers today but she didn’t mind. It gave her plenty of time to organize the shop. She looked at her items behind the counter, moving, adjusting, and dusting. Then she came to a little mirror, gilded with a delicate pattern of vines and leaves, with a small crack on the side.

“Oh, my little mirror, you need some dusting today.”

“Granny!”

A face of a boy appeared in the mirror. His skin was a bluish grey, his left eye, piercing light grey and the right, covered with a patch. A sweet smile appeared on his face at sight of the old woman.

“Good morning, Granny! I missed you!” His hands clasped together.

“I missed you too Kagami.” Her voice was warm and loving.

“I knew you’d come back. I uh...” He hesitated, “I got lonely.”

The old woman, Granny, smiled at the face in the mirror, not a hint of fear in her eyes. This mirror was a prized possession of hers, she had come upon it one evening, while out searching for antiques, it was thrown aside in a trash can, covered in dirt and dust with the word destroy in red paint on the glass. The old woman however knew when things were special and took it home. Only to find this sweet boy behind the glass. He gave her quite a fright upon their first meeting but over the years they grew close, and Granny called him the grandson of her shop. Kagami liked that very much.

In the past when he talked to people, the people who had his mirror before, they would become afraid of him and try to destroy his mirror, his home,himself. He would press his hands against the glass and cry.

“Please! Please don’t break my mirror! Don’t hurt me!”

He tried not to think about those times though his eye was always a reminder. He never knew how he came to have this life all he could remember was being in this mirror, but he did know he did not like being alone. He felt deep down that for once he wouldn’t have to. The old woman’s shop became his safe space but there was always doubt in his mind. He spoke quietly as she cleaned the mirror,

“Granny, are you gonna leave me all alone?”

“Hush now, don’t say terrible things like that.” She clicked her tongue as she dusted the mirror.

He frowned, messing with the black silk bow of his dress shirt, something he would do when he felt anxious. Granny furrowed her brows for a moment then spoke kindly.

“Kagami, you look very nice today.” With one final swipe of her cleaning cloth, the mirror was sparkling.

The boy’s face flushed with embarrassment as he fidgeted with the collar of his red shirt.

“It’s like you say, everyone deserves to look their best.”

“Quite right!”

They shared a laugh; He loved his granny very much. He hoped that they could be family forever, but forever is a long time.

The day came and went, and the shop closed for the evening. Kagami watched the world grow dark from inside the mirror, he felt restless as Granny locked the doors and waved goodbye. In the Morning, all seemed usual, but Granny never came to open the shop. Kagami waited and waited. The last words they spoke still ringing in his head.

“Granny, do you really have to go home now?”

“Yes Kagami, its closing time, I will be back bright and early tomorrow. I promise.”

Days went by slowly, but he didn’t want to lose hope. Granny never lied before, why would she now? He called out every day, the slightest noise of the outside caught his attention, somedays he was louder than others, some days he just whimpered out the words as he cried.

“She’s just running late.”

“She promised me she would come back.”

“Maybe she’s sick.”

Then the creeping doubt came back to his mind, and it festered. Maybe she was like all the rest, but rather than destroy his mirror, she left him all alone?

“It’s been three weeks.”

“Granny you promised me!”

“My mirror is so dirty…”

He would stare out the glass the urge to scream in his throat, but the world felt so quiet most days.

“Granny it has been a month. Where are you?”

A year went by, and the isolation felt like death, something changed about Kagami. His eye didn’t sparkle like before, somedays he could see his own reflection in the glass as if it were taunting him of his loneliness. He couldn’t stand it.

“Let me out of here! Why can’t I get out of this mirror.”

“Please…please…please help me, Come back. Come back.”

“Where did you go Granny? I’m scared…please don’t leave me alone. I would rather lose my eye all over again, just please don’t leave me alone.”

People would peer into the shop, as cobwebs began to cover all the antiques and thick layers of dust called the furniture their home. Kagami cried as his fingernails dragged down the mirror. His breathing ragged and his voice full of venom. No one could hear him.

“It’s been four years granny…you lied. Why did you lie?”

Just how many nights did he weep alone? What thoughts ran though his lonely little head?

---

The jingle of the bells rung throughout the shop,

“So, your grandmother left you the whole place?” You turn towards your friend.

“Yeah, it took so long to get everything situated after she passed.”

You looked around at the cobwebs, taking in the old shop, what once looked like a labour of love now reduced to a home of dust.

“Your grandmother really was a collector.”

“I guess, I don’t really want any of this stuff, maybe I could sell it or donate it or something.” Your friend dragged a finger across the dust from a dresser. “Ugh, gross… Hey since you just moved, take whatever you want back with you. It’ll be easier than me lugging all this junk.”

“Really? Anything? But don’t you want something for the memories since she died?”

“Not really, my parents are still grieving, they really don’t want me bringing this stuff to the house. Besides, I know you like this kind of stuff. Let me go check the back room.” Your friend shuddered at the dust and hurried away to the back of the shop.

You took your time, taking in everything, if you were going to bring some stuff to your new place, you would need a truck, but it would be better to decide what you wanted. You wandered behind the counter and touched all the dusty animal sculptures before finding a mirror. You took a hand and wiped the caked dust away.

“Wow, this mirror is beautiful…” You looked at the details, the gold frame still giving an ornate beauty underneath the dust as the glass reflected your face.

“Find anything interesting?” Your friend returned, carrying an assortment of items in a dusty box.

“Yeah…a few things, um, can I take this mirror?”

“That old thing? I mean if you want to, I don’t want it! My grandma had that thing forever, she said she found it in the trash. You should’ve seen my dad.” They laugh, rummaging through the box, “I don’t know why she would want it, it’s so gaudy.”

“Don’t say that! It’s so nice, I’ll clean it up and hang it in my new room.” You carefully lift it and smile at your reflection. “I’ll go put it in the car, I want to fix it up as soon as I get home.”

“Feel free…maybe it will be worth something.”

You take it out of the shop and carefully put it in the backseat. You can barely contain your excitement.

---

“Alright, that should do it.” Admiring your handiwork, you slightly adjusted the mirror on the wall. Even with the small crack in the frame, that you were able to fix it with a little repair putty, it looked whimsical on the plain wall.

“Now let’s give it a nice clean.” You wiped the mirror in smooth circular motions, until a face is staring at you, that is not your own, you let out a scream and jumped back, as the boy in the mirror looked at you quizzically.

“You’re not granny…” His voice matched his face, blank.

“Gran-Granny? I don’t under-”

“She owned the antique store. Where is she?” He pressed his hands to the glass, “This isn’t her shop.”

“She uh…um. She died… four years ago.” Your heart felt like it was being squeezed, a strange being in your mirror.

He stared at you for a while. His eye wavering for a moment.

“All alone again?” He mumbled as he touched the eye patch, “I had been so lonely in that dusty shop.”

You felt nervous as he talked to himself then his gaze moved slowly back to you,

“You took my mirror, because you wanted it right?”

“I suppose?” You scratched your head and wondered where this conversation would go.

“What is your name? Mine is Kagami.”

“Oh…uh, it’s Y/n.”

“Y/n…Y/n.” He said it a few times before giving you a smile. “In that case can we be friends?

You blinked and wondered if you were dreaming, you pinched your cheek to be sure, it did hurt.

“Friends?”

“After all you took my mirror, so why not?” His voice was suddenly chipper and lively.

“I guess there’s no harm in it? The words tumbled out of your mouth as you tried to understand your situation. You aren’t sure what to do, but it seems you’ve made your first new friend in this new home.

#yandere blog #yandere #yandere oc #My OC #Kagami

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jovialtorchlight · 2 years

Text

Deep Waters

Five young pallbearers, red-eyed and sniffling, trying to stifle tears, shoulder to shoulder, l crammed in a limo following behind the hearse. The interstate leading over the river, gently dusted with mid morning snow; the crawling motorcade buffered by cops with three flashing blue lights.

You were dead (in the coffin, burned flesh) and your mom and dad (Uncle Chris, Aunt Carol too and he even killed the dog--)

Looking out over the bridge, into the Fore River, the short, horned shaped estuary separating Portland from South Portland. Casco Bay was placid, blue ocean lapping where the river flattened out and met with the sea. The limo driver made some joke and we answered with a tired laugh. I hadn’t laughed in days, maybe weeks—and forcing, squeezing some reaction, was perfunctory and automated.

A few of the boys in the limo were Josh's friends. I was his cousin. I grew up with him. Josh was always cooler than I was, and his friends were way cooler than I could ever hope to be. Shaggy hair, bedroom rockers, obsessed with the Strokes, skateboarding, zombies. Smoking weed out of apples. Trashing public restrooms. I was straight laced, chubby, going through an ill advised rounded John Lennon glasses phase, always wearing tie-dye. But we laughed.

I hadn’t laughed in days, maybe weeks — and forcing, squeezing some reaction, perfunctory and automated.

Ebb, meaning a sadness, something like a tide, a riptide, powerful, insurmountable. I would scrape along with it, bloated and drowning, too tired to fight, dragged along the bottom, washing up again later on some shore, wondering where I even was. Like I was surfacing, swimming up through the dark water, and gasping to life in some unknown place.

I was bloated and drowning, too tired to fight, forced along the bottom, washing up again downstream, wondering where I was. Surfacing, swimming up through the dark water, and gasping into some unknown place.

That is grief.

Squeezed next to one of Josh’s friends — Sam, I think — I noticed the sleeves on my tux were too short. I crossed my arms to give Sam space. The shoulders of the jacket threatened to rip out, but held together.

The heated leather seats made my ass sweaty. My legs were sore from being crammed in the limo. I somehow shivered. I had to piss.

I wondered how much longer we had to drive, and at once, I remembered what was waiting for us when we arrived at Calvary Cemetery in South Portland.

(a dead best friend, a fucking hearse and a casket with his burned bod-), and, at once, I wanted the ride to last forever. I closed my eyes.

Wind swept flurries of snow, dusted, onto the road.

We drove, slowly, along the Interstate, tar tinged pale gray with salt and ice, a work truck ahead, flashing yellow, treating the roads, we were sniffling again, all of us trying to be silent.

And we were silent.

Mind wandered from the habitual jabbing — oh my fucking god you’re dead — to feeling the sting of my eyes, wondering how red they were, if my eyes were as red as the rest of the boys, if I was different, if we were all feeling the same thing—

Even in the throes of grief, teenagers are self conscious. I didn’t want to cry when others weren't crying, or cry too much, or cry too little. At one point or another during this, we had all cried pretty hard, sometimes together, sometimes alone, sometimes embarrassed, always pulled out by the fucking riptide.

And there, on that late Feb. mid morning, the sad caravan meandering towards the cemetery, the numbness set in like a deep bone splitting cold.

I’ve been cold since. In adulthood, I've passed out drunk in snow banks, resurfacing from the grips of a blackout to the cold sting of exposure.

I know cold.

After I fell through the ice while ice fishing on Little Sebago Lake, much later in life, Feb. of 2016, in the immediate aftermath, as I pulled myself out of the body sized puncture my step had made in the thin layer of freeze, I flopped on the ground and the fire of the cold hit, flung my boots off in the water, sopping wet socks stuck to the ice, peeled as I took some hobbling steps back to land, and I begged for numbness, begged to not feel the fire eating away at my skin, coughing and hacking, shambling sideways like a zombie, I practically begged for numbness; I begged not to feel, to have the cold just nestle in and become static, background.

A month after his funeral I would have begged to feel anything; and in March of 2008, as I sat alone in a hot-tub, the steam protecting me from the freezing 10 degree air, I closed my eyes, floating, depriving my sense, thinking I could finally fucking feel something other than screaming, hoping, praying some rational creature was still inside of me that could think and analyze and not react like some cornered animal.

And I’m still trying to prove that I’m not an animal, that I can think about things, think about steps to do the actions of a life. That I’m not just driving from parking-lot to parking-lot, that I’m not shambling through supermarkets like a zombie, always afraid like some prey animal.

But Feb. bleeds into March, and in 2008, as I floated in the hot tub, eyes closed, I felt myself finally dead, imagining what it was like to be like Josh.

h. I realized that something else had taken the wheel. The car had been stolen, the train jumped the rails and was barreling towards some unknown, cold place. The real terror was knowing that it could get worse. That it would get worse.

In a happier story, that transformation might have been “growing up”, the epiphany that you, as a child, are flooded with the knowledge that your caretakers are not infallible, they are not all knowing, benevolent; and that you, despite the flailing attempts at blocking the bad and changing the present with magical thinking cannot control the narrative .

For many, the edge of adulthood is paying the first bill, scheduling the first dentist appointment, working a 50 hour week, struggling to pay bills — burying a parent.

I learned that murder isn’t some made-for-tv crime special. It’s a real thing, a ripping thing, a thoughts and prayers situation. The thing that can’t happen. That won’t happen. Until it does.

And when it does, when the raw truth of murder washes over you, the car is stolen, the train jumps the rails.

And I knew then, sitting in that hot-tub, that I had an exclusive vantage point of the truth of the world; the universe that hides in the brush and sets in fangs. that anything can happen. That I wasn’t safe. That my family wasn’t safe. That I could have lived a boring, suburban existence; I could have melded into my milq-toast background and become a thoughts and prayers spellcaster who never looked beyond the safety of the suburbs.

But I understood a secret of the world, through the biting cold of the grief and the stomach twisting pain of the loss, coupled with the realization that the body could be ripped into and burned and God wouldn’t save a 14 year old boy from being brutally bloodlet in his childhood home.

I knew I was barreling towards some unknown, freezing place.

And since then, I’ve been a passenger, like some empty headed vessel, some backseat driver barking directions at the real driver, the unknown, the power of compulsion, the power drawing a moth to a flame or my 20-year-old self to the bar or my 23-year-old blackout drunk self to a snowbank.

Sitting in the limo behind the hearse the snow clouds broke a bit and the piercing blue eye of February came, as it often does, brutal and searing.

We drove.

The wake lasted three days. I remember that everything seemed stiflingly formal. The service, the bowls of mints and the strategically placed tissues and the remembrance wall, a screen that looped a video of family members recording voice messages to the deceased. It felt spotless, too clean for a place where death was as routine as brushing teeth or combing hair. I couldn’t understand the routine. In my view, we had all collectively gone off the rails. Everyone was floundering, grasping out into the air for answers and coming back with only a fistful of grief and a burning ember of sadness stoked and undying as recompense.

You don’t expect to lose an entire wing of a family at once. You don’t look at your cousin as a child and think ‘he’s going to die.’ When he’s kicking your ass in Super Smash Brothers, or is shooting you with a Nerf gun, rapid fire, as you dive across the living room to take shelter behind a couch, you don’t think; "one day, you are going to be stabbed a dozen times and left to die in a burning house and your family is going to die with you and you know who’s going to do it? Your half-brother, who up until this point has been your role model and has a tattoo of your name in flowing script across his stomach.

Yeah. Matt, Josh's half brother killed him. In a true-crime documentary seven years later, Matt would say that he had the "urge to kill" since he was a small child. That we was afraid his family was going to split apart; that my uncle was going to leave Aunt Carol and live with another man. The solution that made sense? Going berserk into a homicidal daze, solving the problem of his family splitting apart by killing them all.

Does that make sense? Can you piece together the logic? If you can, please give me a call. It’s been 12 years and I still don’t understand.

And I didn't understand the logic back in 2008. I was too tired to piece it together. All I really cared about was burying him.

As the limo pulled into the icy, windy roads in Calvary Cemetery in South Portland, the paul-bearers sat in silence.

“Psycho-Killer” by the Talking Heads started playing on the radio. As we drove into the grave, where the huge mass of black coated mourners were already piling in, we smiled, because not only was this a song Josh would have liked, it was mind-numbingly appropriate, like the universe had hand-picked a soundtrack for a murdered 14 year old boy’s funeral. If Josh could send us a message, it would have probably been to lighten the fuck up.

The kid in the front seat started to sing it, and we all joined in. By the time the chorus came on, the French part particularly, we were all singing, laughing, and joking with each other. A much needed moment of laughter in the black.

We buried them. All three. And there was a boogey-man haunting. Matt. I wasn’t angry, as many in my family were — I was too sad to be angry. I felt like if I harnessed rage, I would sink, I would flood myself and I would flounder back down into the riptide. I was scared. I wanted to know how. What was his trajectory? How he could have become the kind of person that would have murdered his family. Could I transform as well? Could I become someone like him

But the Talking Heads helped add some levity. Maybe Matt was a psycho-killer, tense and nervous, someone who couldn’t relax. And the grinding bassline helped calm me.

We walked the coffin to the edge of the grave.

There were two other groups of pall-bearers, for Chris and Carol; my dad carried Chris’s coffin. It was bitterly cold. The wind whipped up snow and planted it in my face, and seemed to do the same of the tears and wailing that had haunted me like a revenant; everywhere I went, someone was crying. And most of the time, I was crying right alongside them.

But the routine. The routine dicates flowers, and standing at the edge of the grave, and a motorcade, and a flood of people huddled together in the cold.

Our family felt like a smashed pumpkin, pieces all over the pavement, guts strewn all over the sidewalk. We were all ripped out, ripped apart, pulled under. And more often, what ripped us apart was what lay dormant in us before the cataclysmic deaths of an entire family.

And now we flash back to the act.

Josh (cousin). Dead. Chris (uncle). Dead. Carol (aunt). Dead. Spike (their fucking dog). Dead. Sometime in the afternoon of February 20, 2008.

My dad got a call from our grandpa that “something was going on at Chris’ house.” He left. I think it was after dinner sometime, around 7:30 p.m.

It was February vacation froim school, halfway through. Wednesday nightI was in a production of High School Musical, and had spent the day rehearsing.

I remember that day with extreme confidence; it was the barrier between my life before, and my life after. Rehearsal started at ten in the morning. We were getting close to the show date, so we were doing full runs. I was the narrator. I remember nothing of the actual show, other than it had a lot of flashy, boy-band choreography.

I’ve always been a bit out of sync with the world. If a group of people starts swaying to the music in one direction, I go the other way. Not on purpose. I just don’t sync up.

I bump into stuff. I miss high-fives. I almost never anticipate if someone wants a fist-bump, high five, or to be left the fuck alone. And I was no different back then. I was awkward as hell.

And I didn’t make things easy for myself. I started off the year by getting the star of the football team suspended; I was a marked man. Well, not a man. A stupid kid.

A chubby John Lennon wannabe (I had his ill-fitting oval glasses, face overrun with acne, long hair with bangs that were completely straight, and a old, ratty, Yellow Submarine tie-die shirt and leather Led Zeppelin leather jacket that I never took off). I had no means of defending myself. And I had a quantifiable price on my head.

It was my second week at Lake Region Highschool in Naples, Maine. One morning my bus driver interograted the riders, demanding to know who cut three large cuts into the seats in the last row, where Josh sat.

Earlier in the year, a kid on the bus had cut into the back seat with a hunting knife, carving a slit in the fabric. We were kept on the bus at the high school and interrogated.

I called them the “hicks,” the kids who sat in the back of the bus, usually carrying pocket knives, who wore work-boots and Dickies overalls and those tan leather work jackets, who were almost always poor as hell and packing a lip full of chewing tobacco.

The particular group that lived in the neighborhood were vicious. The ringleader, Josh. rumor had it, had been expelled from three schools for fighting and didn’t give a shit.

Josh was the terror of Pine Hill. He was built like a boxer, short, stocky, with wild eyes deep set into his head. Although I never saw him in action, I heard plenty of rumours about his viciousness. My friends said he crashed a backyard football demanding to play. After about five minutes, Josh transformed the peaceful game into a slaughter; taking people out at the knees, throwing people into the dirt, tossing elbows, spiking the football into faces.

The carnage only ended after Josh, bored with his domination, drew a pocket knife, said something vaguely threatening, and ripped away into the late summer evening on his dirtbike. My friends told me this story at the bus stop on the first day of school. From a safe distance, I watched Josh spit a glob of chewing tobacco into a clear gatorade bottle and stash it in his backpack.

The most dangerous of the group knew they had no future. They were flunking anyway; school was just a place to go.

Many of the hicks who wanted me to die are working as mechanics, or pouring concrete, or are contractors, and making way more money than me.

And one was the star of the football team. He was the biggest bad-ass of them all; not mean, like the ringleader who punched out kids and had a knife. He had a quiet confidence, a look that said “if I couldn’t run a five minute mile, and if I wasn’t the best athlete this poverty stricken school district has seen since the 80’s, I’d kick your ass.”

He had a tether. He wanted to stay on the football team, stay in trouble, and not go to jail. The others didn’t really give a fuck about that.

Near the start of the school year, the interrogations were almost daily; we’d be kept on the bus for 10, 15, 20 minutes. It started off as a questioning and ended with a stare-down. The principal got involved. The bus driver made a last ditch plea to tell him who did it.

I didn’t know who did it. But I knew that those hicks, who I despised, were chewing. So I wrote a note, left it in the seat. Sure enough, the next day, a bunch of them were suspended en masse. And the star of the football team was caught in the sting.

I was immediately fucked. Everyone knew it was me in a matter of minutes.

Josh’s gang started headhunting.

My mom took logistic action; our friends who lived in the cul-de-sac took shifts, driving by the bus-stop every time I got off, whisking me away like a politician under the threat of being punched or hit in the face by an egg. My mom had one day; my other friend's grandma had another, my dad came home early from work.

But one day, getting off the bus, I was alone. We got off together, crossed the street, and three of them came up to me, shoved me. I was about three seconds away from getting the shit knocked out of me before the day drove up, threw open the passenger's side door. I jumped in, and he took me home.

Eventually, the bullies stopped caring. I hid in the front of the bus. I was silent for six months. They moved on, and I didn't die.

The point? I was used to hiding, waiting things out, waiting for the smoke to clear. And a few months later, I tried to do the same thing. Maybe if I slept through the days after he died, I'd wake up and it would be over. Life would reset and we'd be on a dock, fishing poles idyly in the water, talking about our favorite jokes from Jackass.

So I slept. And slept. Kept having dreams. But our family still felt like it was crumbling. A few time a month after that, my Grandpa and step grandma would take us out to dinner at our local Italian restaurant where Josh and I ate many times before, flicking crumbs at each-other, kicking each other under the table. These times, the hours would melt away as we'd talk about court dates, caskets, visitations. We'd roll in, get a special treatment like we were part of the mob, stay for a few hours. I could see in the waitstaff's face that they were bummed out just by listening.

It’s funny how quickly trauma can be recited; the syntax, the cadence of how you tell your story to others. It’s not an easy thing to say. At first,when I was younger, it was because I didn’t want to burden anyone with how fucked up I was, and how fucked up I felt. Now, it’s more a part of me, something that’s latched itself onto my personhood to become the focal point of my entire existence forever.

And that’s when the thoughts that would eventually send me to a psych-ward started. That if Matt could kill his family, I could kill mine. If Ted Bundy killed those people, so could I. One day, it would happen; I’d blank out and wake up surrounded by the corpses of the people I loved the most. I stayed up at night crying. I wanted to die before I did something terrible. The riptide had dragged me out so far I had forgotten who I really was.

There’s a name for those thoughts. OCD, the kind where you obsess over a thought; murdering your family. The anxiety builds. I couldn’t do that? Right? No, never—so you start googling, seeing what other killers were like when they were 14—and maybe they were normal, maybe they weren’t, and the anxiety dims a little bit but the fire is not out and you rip your mind apart searching for the one answer that will tell you whether or not you’re as fucked up as you think.

I’ve spent so much time ripping down my mind, trying to see how awful I am, trying to find proof that I could do what happened to me, that I will do what happened to me—failing to see the utter absurdity, the utter desperation of these thoughts, propelled entirely by the gnawing panic, the premature realization of the fucking ugliness of the world.

I prepare these thoughts to be analyzed. A ritual science of fear and guilt. I transgressed, once. I became someone I have grown to hate. I will tear apart my mind in search of condemnation; I will hold myself to this fire and I will burn my soul clean.

And I’m not sure where I’m ready to go, if I’m ready to start trying to swim ashore, if I’m ready to try and let myself be saved. I think so. When Feb. grips me, and I’m alone with the thoughts that have devoured me, I’m not sure if I can escape the sounds of the sirens constantly blaring in my head.

The waters are dark, deep, and cold. I think I’m ready to start rising up from the waters, filling myself up with the life I’ve drained from my soul, and finally become a person again.

#personal #jonny bolduc #essay

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hookingminor · 3 years

Text

invisible string - cale makar

a/n: another old fic rewritten for our fav defenseman sorry the gif I found is so large I could not find any horizontal ones I liked that fit my aesthetic rip

word count: 3.6k

warnings: alcohol, very brief mentions of blood/injury

summary: based on taylor swift’s invisible string

You were going to miss this park.

Every Saturday afternoon you come here. Most of the time, you spent your day underneath the large oak tree planted in the center of the park, nose deep in whatever book you were currently reading. This month’s choice was I’ll Give You The Sun. Occasionally, you would do homework or take a nap, but your favorite thing to do was read. This oak tree was your favorite spot in all of Calgary, and you were really going to miss it.

After five years in Calgary, you were finally moving back home to Denver. Your family moved around a lot as your dad was transferred frequently, but your true home was Denver. You hadn’t been back there since you were six, but it was still home.

Calgary was always temporary. You knew eventually you’d pack up and leave, your parents dragging you along with them because you were only sixteen and had no choice, but it got exhausting after a while. You just wanted to stay somewhere.

Even though you knew your time in Calgary was limited, it didn’t stop you from falling in love with the city.

On the Saturdays that you spent tucked away underneath the tree, you always let your mind wander into daydreams of meeting someone there. You dreamed of being swept away in a whirlwind of a romance, and it all started with meeting someone at the park. All your daydreams could probably be tied back to the numerous romances you continuously read or due to the fact you longed for a teenage love, but what could you say? You were a hopeless romantic. Maybe it would be someone walking their dog or an afternoon jogger running into you or a lost tourist asking for directions. Either way, you thought it would be the most romantic meet-cute, under your special tree.

Five years passed, though, and your dreams of meeting someone dwindled until the only reasons you went to the park were purely for peace and quiet. Now, you were spending your last day in Calgary in your favorite spot, soaking up the sunshine as you finished your latest book.

On the last page, five paragraphs from being done, you heard a loud scream.

Your head snapped up, concentration broken as you searched around for the origin of the noise. Lo and behold, off in the distance, you saw the form of a boy rollerblading down the bike trail. There must have been some sticks or rocks on the path because the boy kept shouting as he wailed his arms around, unable to stop.

You watched as he continued stumbling for a few seconds before he careened off the trail and into the grass, tumbling onto the ground before rolling into a nearby tree.

Initially, your jaw dropped in shock, a soft gasp escaping as you covered your mouth with your hand. You waited a few seconds, watching for movement, and then you heard the pained groans coming from the injured boy.

The boy gradually pushed himself up by his hands, and you could see the bloody scrapes on his forearms even from your distance away. He slowly got back up on his feet, limping across the grass as he made his way back to the trail.

Not being able to help yourself, you began laughing at his misfortune. Now that you knew he was okay, the screaming and fall replayed in your mind, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation.

You thought you were far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to hear you, but you were sadly mistaken. The boy’s head turned to the sound of your laughter, and he followed it until his eyes met yours. You stopped laughing, but the smile on your face refused to fall as you took in his disheveled state.

He watched you try to hide your amused smile to no avail. It only took a few seconds of chuckling while directly staring at him before he returned your smile with one of his own. You saw a flash of teeth and the corner of his lips pulled into a smirk. He gave you one last glance, shaking his head slightly before turning back towards the direction he’d come from. You watched his figure rollerblade back down the path, avoiding the obstructions this time, and disappear from your vision.

The boy rollerbladed to the park the next Saturday. He skated by the same spot where he fell last week and glanced over to the centered oak tree, hoping to see you again, but you were nowhere to be found.

Cale couldn’t sleep. It seemed like no matter what he did, he just couldn’t fall asleep. The team had put him in a hotel for a few weeks while they worked on finding him a more permanent residence, but despite the comfort of the hotel bed, he didn’t find the mattress agreeable.

He’d been in Denver for two weeks now and he’d yet to see anything in the city besides the arena. His days were full of hockey practices and meetings, and his evenings were full of extra training at the gym. The latter was his own personal choice; he didn’t want to squander his chance at playing in the NHL and felt that he needed to train a little harder, being new and all.

He tossed and turned in bed for two hours before finally giving up. Sleep obviously wasn’t going to come to him soon, so he might as well kill some time instead.

Pulling out his phone, Cale searched ‘diners near me’ into Google and scrolled through the list of options. He selected the one nearest to him that was also open twenty-four hours, entered the address into maps, threw on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and was out of the door within three minutes.

The chilly, brisk walk to the diner took ten minutes from the hotel. Cale hadn’t been in Denver long, but he knew the weather was going to agree with him, if only because he had so much experience with the bitter cold Calgary winters.

A bell dinged above his head as he entered through the front door. Cale glanced around the small diner, noticing a few old truckers at the counter, a young teenage couple near the window, and a girl his age tucked away into a corner booth writing into a notebook.

A middle-aged woman with graying hair approached him at the front, a menu in her hand.

“Just one?” She asked him, noticing his lost puppy look. Cale nodded his head in agreement, following the lady to a secluded booth.

She set down the menu in front of him before pulling out a mug to pour him a cup of coffee.

“New around here?” She asked him as his eyes read the menu slowly.

“Is it that obvious?” He replied with an awkward chuckle.

“We usually have a small group of regulars. Your ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look is a dead giveaway,” she said with a warm smile. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.”

The woman walked back behind the counter, serving more coffee to the truckers. He saw one cook in the back kitchen ,but other than those two, no one else was working. Probably because it was a little past two in the morning on a Wednesday.

He took his time reading over the menu; he couldn’t decide if he wanted a breakfast platter or a nice burger with fries. He’d narrowed it down to two options when he saw you shuffle out of the corner booth, backpack slung over your shoulders.

You walked his way, the only path to the front door was past his table. His eyes connected with yours, and you gave him a warm smile.

Pausing next to his booth, he watched you as you leaned over his shoulder.

“If you’ve never been here before, I highly recommend the caramel and cream cheese French toast. It’s not on the menu, but they’ll make it anyway if you ask. Oh, and get tater tots instead of the hashbrowns, they’re a lot better,” you suggested.

You flashed him a bright smile, and Cale’s eyes lit up. It felt like he’d seen that smile before, an old memory from a dream that he couldn’t quite remember. He wanted to say thank you or maybe ask what your name was, but you continued on your way out the door before he got a chance to reply. His gaze stayed fixed on the swinging bell above the entrance long after he’d watched you turn down the corner and fade into the night.

His trance was broken when he heard the voice of the waitress call out to him.

“So, did you decide on something?” She asked, a knowing grin on her lips.

The two choices Cale was torn between suddenly vanished from his mind; he couldn’t even remember what he wanted to order before you said something. Cale bit his lip and thought about it. French toast really wasn’t on his diet. All he could do was hope that the extra hours he spent in the hotel gym would pay off and negate the sugar-filled and fatty calories he was about to consume.

Closing the menu without a second glance, he turned his attention towards the waitress. “Yeah, I’ll have the caramel and cream cheese french toast with tater tots, please.”

Cale was riding high. The team had just made it to the Stanley Cup finals, and no one could contain their excitement.

Going against the advice of their coaches, a few of them had decided to go out to celebrate. It was nothing big, just a small dive bar on the edge of the city. They wanted to celebrate their hard work, not get so trashed they’d be completely useless for practice tomorrow. They still had their toughest games ahead of them.

The bar was quiet, only a few local patrons were there besides the team. If anyone knew who they were, no one approached them about it. The night passed quickly, laughter and cheers filling the small space as pints of beer were drained.

“Makar, grab the next round,” his captain ordered, and he was too happy to do so. Cale was the resident golden retriever on the team. Someone would say ‘jump’ and Cale would ask ‘how high?’ but he didn’t feel used. He loved being a part of a team. So, he made his way across the room to the bar and ordered two more pints.

For you, it had been a hell of a week. And not in a good way. You finished your Bachelor’s degree almost two weeks ago, but the stress didn’t end when you turned in your last finals. Work was awful, but you still had another couple months until you began your life as a real career woman. You were stuck there for the rest of the summer, promising your supervisor that you wouldn’t leave during their busiest season just because you’d graduated even though you really wanted to put in your two weeks. It was a mistake to make that promise.

After spending a day running numbers and creating spreadsheets that a ten year old could’ve done, all you wanted right now was a drink: the strongest drink you could think of. Perhaps an entire bottle of whiskey if they’d allow it. Or if you could afford it.

The minute after your shift was over, you were out the door and removing the suffocating blazer before you’d even hit the sidewalk. You began the familiar route to your favorite bar, being that it was close to work, cheap, and almost always empty.

When you entered the small bar, you noticed it was slightly busier than normal. Still relatively quiet, but busier than you were used to. You didn’t let it deter you as you walked directly to the bar.

However, it seemed the universe wasn’t done punishing you because when you were five steps away from the countertop, someone turned around abruptly. A hard body slammed into yours along with half a pint of beer.

“Oh, fuck me!” You exclaimed in distress, throwing your hands up as the beer splashed all over your blouse.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” The culprit said, setting the beers back on the bar behind him. He reached over to grab a handful of napkins and then began patting furiously at your top.

“It’s fine,” you sighed, “Today just really isn’t my day.” You took the napkins from one of his hands to dry yourself off.

You looked up to face the man who’d drenched you with cheap beer, and you were met with a dazzling pair of blue eyes. They looked familiar, as if you’d seen him before but couldn’t remember where.

He caught your stare, his lips quirking into a smile at the sight of you. Cale felt a tug inside him, like the feeling of butterflies, when he saw your face. Waves of coolness washed over him, and he was lost in your eyes.

“I’m sorry I ruined your shirt,” he said in a daze, unable to look away from you. He really hoped it didn’t come off as creepy, but little did he know you felt the same way.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t attached to it anyway,” you said, all your previous anger leaving your body. It was actually one of your nicer tops that would cost way too much money to dry clean now, but you weren’t thinking about that.

“Do I know you?” You both asked at the same time. The coincidence caused you two to burst out laughing, and he swore he’d heard that laugh before.

“How about I buy you a drink to make up for this?” He asked, beaming from ear to ear.

Your eyes twinkled as you nodded your head, and Cale felt his heart burst at your smile.

A year passed in a blurry haze. The night out at the bar turned into a two hour conversation with the stranger who’d spilled beer all over you. He apologized profusely the entire night and introduced himself to make up for it. He only ordered you two drinks, but you spent hours together laughing.

You told him about your hellish day and complained about work, and he recalled the wins and upcoming games he had in the next couple weeks. Soon, you were exchanging life stories and you found out he was originally from Calgary. You discussed your hobbies and interests outside of work, the best movies you’ve seen recently, and where in Denver you could find the most authentic Mexican food.

Eventually, it neared one in the morning, and Cale had to get home for practice in the morning. As much as he wanted to stay longer to talk to you, he knew he had to get going before his teammates ratted him out tomorrow.

“Do you mind if I walk you home?” He asked, the drinks between you finished long ago. It sounded a little odd asking a stranger he just met if he could essentially follow her home, but he hoped he didn’t give off stalker vibes.

“I’d like that,” you replied with a smile. It sounded a little odd agreeing to let a stranger you just met have your address, but something tugged at your heartstrings and told you to take the leap.

When he dropped you off outside of your apartment, he had asked for your number. That night turned into a first date and that first date turned into many dates. Cale easily swept you off your feet, and it was even easier to fall in love with him.

After years of dating the wrong guys, of being burned and cheated on and lied to, the world had sent you the perfect man. A man with a soul equivalent to a thousand beaming rays of sunshine all wrapped up in perfect blonde hair and blue eyes and rosy cheeks.

He did everything for you. He sent you flowers randomly, surprised you with your favorite takeout, and took you on the most extravagant dates. You went to his games, house sat his plants when he was on roadtrips, and left him little notes in his suitcases to find when he was away. You knew within two months of dating that he was the one you were going to end up with. Cale was your forever.

There were no awkward phases in your dating life, no uncertainties or questions about what you were as a couple. Cale was as taken with you as you were with him, and you both knew what you wanted out of your relationship. It felt like you knew each other for years, like he’d always been there in the back of your mind, just out of reach and waiting for you to find him.

You didn’t know how much you believed in fate, but it felt like the universe made him specifically for you. He understood you like no one did and you could communicate with him without ever saying a word. If soulmates and other halves did exist, there was no doubt in your mind that Cale was your missing piece.

It was a year after you began dating that Cale invited you back home with him. He wanted you to spend a few weeks over the summer with him and his family in Calgary.

Cale was elated to introduce you to his family. He planned on marrying you one day, and he wanted everyone to meet the woman who’d stolen his heart. Everything about you consumed him: your hair, your eyes, your smile. There wasn’t a single part of you he wasn’t madly in love with and there was nothing about you he’d change. It was a long time coming, you going home with him, and you couldn’t be more excited about it.

He spent the first few days showing you around his favorite childhood hangouts, the rinks he used to skate on and the pizza places he used to frequent with his friends. He showed you his high school, secret hidden spot near a small lake, and the best ice cream shop in all of Calgary.

It was one day when you were walking through the old park you used to read where you shared your favorite spot.

“When I lived here, I used to spend every weekend under that oak tree,” you said randomly, pointing out to the large tree across the grass.

“Really? I used to rollerblade through this park sometimes. One day I completely ate shit on this path,” he chuckled, remembering the painful memory. “I sprained my wrist and arm. Couldn’t play hockey for three weeks.”

“How old were you?” You asked curiously, thinking back to the day you saw a boy fall.

“Sixteen, maybe?” He replied, brows furrowing in thought. You and Cale were the same age.

“This might sound crazy, but I think I saw you fall that day,” you said. Cale turned to look into your eyes.

“Were you the girl laughing at me under the tree?” He asked skeptically. The blush forming on your cheeks and the way you broke eye contact answered the question for you.

“It was you! I always thought it was rude how you didn’t offer to help me,” he said with a hearty laugh.

“To be fair, I was worried when you fell down. But then you got up and seemed okay, so I didn’t bother,” you said defensively.

“Still, you sat there and laughed at me while I bled on the grass,” he teased, slugging your arm lightly.

“Well, it seems that everything turned out okay for you,” you said, rolling your eyes dramatically.

“Yeah, it did,” he replied wistfully, reaching down to hold your hand with his.

The two of you walked through the rest of the park, but your gaze kept flickering back to the center field where your tree sat, your brain replaying the daydreams you had about meeting your true love underneath that tree. A nostalgic smile spread across your face, and Cale noticed your suddenly cheery mood.

“What are you smiling about?” He asked, a playful grin of his own appearing. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you smile.

“Nothing,” you replied, keeping the tender secret to yourself.

Three years later, Cale took you home with him over the short winter break he got while the All-Star Game happened. You walked through the park together, a tradition that you created ever since that first summer back.

The air was cool and crisp, the skies a beautiful shade of purple and pink against the blue background. He led you over to your favorite tree, pulling you from the usual path you took around the park. In all the times you’ve been to the park with him, you’d never actually taken him to sit under your tree.

You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach at the feeling of being in your favorite spot with your favorite person. Your heart rate began to pick up as Cale dropped your hand to stand across from you, giving you a knowing smile.

When he took a step back, you felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes as if your heart knew where this was heading before your brain could process it. Cale lowered himself onto one knee before he pulled out a small velvet box from his coat pocket, opening it to reveal a diamond ring.

The fantasies you created in your mind all those years ago finally came to fruition that snowy day in January. All along you knew that one day you’d meet the love of your life under this tree even if you hadn’t realized it at the time, and you thanked whatever gods existed for the invisible strings that tied you to Cale.

#cale makar #cale makar imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #my writing #avs8

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queerdraws · 3 years

Photo

Cleaning Out the Rooms - a Harry Du Bois playlist Alcoholism, getting better?, memory loss, being a superstar, The Final Dream, forming political opinions, bad breakups, past transgressions, being a strange and inconsistent being, and persisting despite it all 26 songs (r-slur warning for Turnin’ on the Screw - QotSA)

including: David Bazan, They Might be Giants, The Mountain Goats, British Sea Power (of course), Queens of the Stone Age, and more. Full track listing and lyric excerpts under the cut

---- Turnin' on the Screw - Queens of the Stone Age (This is the opening track on Era Vulgaris, seemed like an appropriate opening song / introduction to Harry's general essence) ----

... They say those who can't just instruct others And act like victims or jilted lovers You can't lose it if you never had it Disappear, man, do some magic

Want a reason? How's about because You ain't a has been if you never was

I sound like this

Scared to say what is your passion So slag it all, bitter's in fashion Fear of failure's all you've started The jury is in, verdict: r******d

I'm so tired, and I'm wired too I'm a mess; I guess I'm turning on the screw

---- Bless this Mess - David Bazan (Harry being a drunk and a general mess, things going in cycles) ----

God bless the man who stumbles God bless the man who falls God bless the man who yields to temptation God bless the woman who suffers God bless the woman who weeps God bless the children trying her patience Trouble getting over it Is what you're in for So pour yourself another 'Cause it'll take a steady pair of hands Holy or unholy ghost Well now I can't tell, but either way you cut it You should get some distance if you plan to take a stand God bless the house divided God bless the weeds in the wheat God bless the lamp hid under a bushel I discovered hell to be the poison in the well So I tried to warn the others of the curse But then my body turned on me I dreamt that for eternity My family would burn Then I awoke with a wicked thirst

---- Don’t Sit Down Cause I’ve Moved Your Chair - Arctic Monkeys (general Harry vibe. off-kilter) ----

Break a mirror, roll the dice

...

Find a well-known hard man and start a fight Wear your shell suit on bonfire night Fill in a circular hole with a peg that's square

But just don't sit down 'cause I've moved your chair

...

Bite the lightning and tell me how it tastes Kung fu fighting on your roller skates Do the Macarena in the devil's lair

But just don't sit down 'cause I've moved your chair

---- I've Been Seeing Things - They Might be Giants (feels very Harry's detecting style, surreal happenstance) ----

I've been seeing things I've been seeing things Don't have answers but I've got lots of questions

Carpool's up, someone gets out Hand someone else a violin case I'm trying not to let them see me looking at them But I'm pretty sure there was a dollar sign

Keep your eyes peeled and you'll see stuff Which at first seems like unimportant irrelevant things

Can't just ask some perfect stranger "What are you hiding in your violin case?" Shadow them at a distance instead Try to get inside their head

Where'd they go now (Where'd they go now) I got distracted (I got distracted) Begging me to stay (Begging me to stay) Wearing a disguise (Wearing a disguise) That lady (That lady) Must have ditched the kid (Must have ditched the kid) Hidge the down (Hidge the down) [???] What's she up to now? (What's she up to now?) Trembling cold by the airport road Watching them stack containers in rows Seagulls, helicopter, windblown trash Something doesn't add up

I've been seeing things I've been seeing things No one asks but I'm packing all kinds of attention

Later I'm watching a news report Camera pans across a crime scene Unremarked upon detail Empty violin case Okay maybe not the same case Different material, different color Still you have to wonder Am I the only one who knows

I've been seeing things

---- Music is the Victim - Scissor Sisters (breakup Harry. drug-addled disco Harry) ----

I left my heart in San Fransisco It's at some motherfucking disco The people there where dancin' on it And that's including Ms. Matronic

Hell if music is the victim then so am I Of lovin' and a cheatin' the snake gon' bite I beg and I scream and I cuss and I cry If music is the victim then so am I

Of your bad fun Money's all gone but you need some Lover's on the phone but they got none Daddy ain't home from the dog run And you're riding through the city with a shotgun

I left my bag in Pasadena Where all them girls was doin' Tina Them bitches sure were crunked up on it I said I'd rather smoke some chronic

Hell if music is the victim then so am I Of lovin' and a cheatin' the snake gon' bite I beg and I scream and I cuss and I cry If music is the victim then so am I

---- Down to Your Soul - Right Away, Great Captain! (about the Final Dream and pre-game Harry) ----

And I see things I actually don't see. I knew it wasn't actually you a few feet from my reach. I looked into your eyes and I began to lose my teeth, And I felt you were dreaming the same thing.

And I know you don't know what I'm capable of But if you give me just one more minute I'm sure That you would be shaking right down to your soul And I'd hope that the fear of the lord brings me home. I'm a man in a body of water so tall Could swallow you whole and forget where he's going But I carved a map in the back of my arm Don't worry I'm coming home I said don't worry cause I'm coming home

---- No Surprises - Radiohead (suicidal harry, pre-game. Maybe immediately before the game. A little Big Communism Builder) ----

A heart that's full up like a landfill A job that slowly kills you Bruises that won't heal You look so tired, unhappy Bring down the government They don't, they don't speak for us I'll take a quiet life A handshake of carbon monoxide

And no alarms and no surprises

…

This is my final fit My final bellyache

…

No alarms and no surprises, please (get me out of here)

---- Cleaning Out the Rooms - British Sea Power (The instrumental part seems to have been used / referenced for a background music track. And also the name of that one thought project. as expected, it fits beautifully. Wake up in a new life, down by the seaside. Cleaning out the rooms. She’ll be coming soon.) ----

Where life is good in a way Swept away upon our hearts, in cold coal ceremonial On a rainy day, hang it up Get the vacuum and suck it in Cleaning out the rooms, I'll clean it up Dark cloud, drifting out of view I'll never know, she'll be coming soon, that is all I'll wake up in a new life, ship shape and shoe shine Cleaning out the rooms, I'll clean it up She'll be coming soon Drifting into view, way in the west, white cloud If everybody knew, I never knew, she'll be coming soon I'll wake up in a new life, down by the seaside In a new life, down by the seaside Cleaning out the room, I'll clean it up Dark clouds, she'll be coming soon Down the chimney, out the window, that is all

---- In the Morning of the Magicians - The Flaming Lips (waking up with no memory, but bad vibes) ----

In the morning I awake

And I couldn't remember What is love and what is hate

The calculations error

Oh, what is love and what is hate? And why does it matter? Is to love just a waste? And how can it matter?

Oh...

As the dawn began to break I had to surrender The universe will have its way Too powerful to master

---- Once in a Lifetime - Talking Heads (Huh?? What's happening?? same as it ever was, same as it ever was) ----

And you may ask yourself, "How do I work this?" And you may ask yourself, "Where is that large automobile?" And you may tell yourself, "This is not my beautiful house" And you may tell yourself, "This is not my beautiful wife"

...

Same as it ever was, same as it ever was Same as it ever was, same as it ever was

...

And you may ask yourself, "What is that beautiful house?" And you may ask yourself, "Where does that highway go to?" And you may ask yourself, "Am I right? Am I wrong?" And you may say to yourself, "My God! What have I done?"

---- Don't Change - David Bazan (alcoholism, cycles of wanting to get better, depression, slipping in to old coping mechanisms, plus a little bit in here about dreams. This is a song for if Harry continues partying after the memory wipe, I suppose) ----

He seems nice You met him once or twice But you wonder what he's like When he's sober

Then again You hear he has no friends Just people that he spins To do him favors

When he wakes up in the morning he tells himself Today I'll make a change But falling into his bed at night he thinks Man it was a beautiful day to stay the same

I'm so deep That only in my sleep Do the secrets that I keep Float to the surface

So I hold them down Till they don't make a sound Like they accidentally drowned Except on purpose

And when I wake up in the morning I tell myself Today I'll make a change But falling into my bed at night I think Man it was a beautiful day to stay the same

---- Airbag - Radiohead (born again, back to save the universe) ----

In the next world war In a jackknifed juggernaut I am born again In the neon sign scrolling up and down I am born again

In an interstellar burst I am back to save the universe

In a deep, deep sleep of the innocent I am born again In a fast German car I'm amazed that I survived An airbag saved my life

In an interstellar burst I am back to save the universe

---- A Comet Appears - The Shins (puppeting a man-body around pretending to be a living thing. drinking, depression) ----

One hand on this wily comet Take a drink just to give me some weight Some uber-man I'd make I'm barely a vapor

They shone a chlorine light on A host of individual sins Let's carve my aging face off Fetch us a knife Start with my eyes Down so the lines Form a grimacing smile

Close your eyes to corral a virtue Is this fooling anyone else? Never worked so long and hard To cement a failure

---- The Communists Have the Music - They Might be Giants (Big Communism Builder, but especially Harry's shallow understanding of Communism. Party-boy communist) ----

I got handed an Ayn Rand sandwich Straight from the can, it tasted so bland I asked a lass to pass me a glass Of Engels' Conditions of the Working Class

Right away they dragged me to the committee To explain my un-American activity They're gonna see they made a mistake If they'd only let me play my mixtape

I'm not partial to the martial Or the plutocrats, in their beaver hats And the fascists have the outfits But I don't care for the outfits What I care about is music And the communists have the music

---- Harlem Roulette - The Mountain Goats (Harry thinking about Guillame le Million? Generally: that vibe of secret, maybe supranatural machinations happening just outside your field of view. A kinda lonely, pensive vibe, sprinkled with past drug use, driving...memory) ----

Unknown engines underneath the city Steam pushing up in billows through the grates Frankie Lymon's tracking "Seabreeze" in a studio in Harlem Its 1968. Just a pair of tunes to hammer out. Everybody's off the clock by 10:00. The loneliest people in the whole wide world are the ones you're never going to see again. Feels so free when I hit the avenue. Nothing like a New York summer night. Every dream's a good dream, Even awful dreams are good dreams, If you're doing it right. Remember soaring higher than a cloud. Get pretty sentimental now and then. The loneliest people in the whole wide world are the ones you're never going to see again. And four hours north of Portland, a radio flips on. And some no one from the future remembers that you're gone. Armies massing in the dusky distance. Ghosted in the ribbon microphone. Leave a little mark on something, maybe, Take the secret circuit home. Nothing in the shadows but the shadow hands. Reaching out to sad, young, frightened men. The loneliest people in the whole wide world are the ones you're never going to see again.

---- Suture up Your Future - Queens of the Stone Age (Harry's gonna fix his mess) ----

I'm gon' suture up my future I ain't jaded, I just hate it See, I been down too long It's kinda hard to explain Burned and buried, all I carried

...

Tried explaining unexplained Got caught in the plan All this talking at once I've been giving my love away To the things that tear it apart I'm gonna suture up my future

---- Lampshades on Fire - Modest Mouse (Harry trashing his body / having already trashed his body, just kinda a Harry-vibe song) ----

...

Well, the lampshade's on fire when the lights go out This is what I really call a party now Well, fear makes us really, really run around A-this one's done so where to now? Our eyes light up, we have no shame at all Well, you all know what I'm talking about The room lights up, but we're still dancing around We're having fun, having some fun now

Pack up again, head to the next place Where we'll make the same mistakes Open one up and let it fall to the ground Pile out the door when it all runs out

...

As our feelings are getting hurt Oh, we want you to do the work Our ass looks great inside these jeans Well, we want just our water clean

Well, this is how it's always been And this is how it's going to be So you just move on

---- Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes (Harry "can-opener" du Bois. Talking to the skills, solving things, detecting, generally being a terrifying force of nature / the pale) ----

I'm gonna fight 'em all A seven nation army couldn't hold me back They're gonna rip it off Taking their time right behind my back

And I'm talking to myself at night Because I can't forget Back and forth through my mind Behind a cigarette

And the message coming from my eyes Says, "Leave it alone"

Don't wanna hear about it Every single one's got a story to tell Everyone knows about it From the Queen of England to the Hounds of Hell

And if I catch it coming back my way I'm gonna serve it to you And that ain't what you want to hear But that's what I'll do

And the feeling coming from my bones Says, "Find a home"

---- Body of Years - Mother Mother (Harry's past that follows him, Harry's half-decomposed body that marks the years of abuse it's been through) ----

All the remains of a cadaver of days I keep hidden away, keep them there just in case I wanna visit that place Blow the dust from the bones Off a body of years that I leave all alone Just a body of years

See the skin disappears And the blood turns to stone In a body of years now a pile of bones Like a sheet of veneer Each a piece of my soul It's a body of years that I leave all alone

It's Just a body of years, now a pile of bones You know Old soul who falls down Can't stop trippin' on these Old roads I go down Get back up and get my foot in the door And my face on the page Make my mark in the world With a bat and a blade It's a body of work that you can't ever change Like a body of years that you take to your grave It's just a body of years that I leave all alone It's just a body of years, now a pile of bones Like a sheet of veneer Each a piece of my soul

---- The Cap-m - They Might be Giants (just a Harry vibe song) ----

When I talk you keep looking away from me 'Cause you probably think that I'm high on pot But I'm not, I'm not

Look me over, I'm the Cap'm You say it's such a joke But I don't see you laughing

People seem to think you can't be called the Cap'm Unless you drive a boat Well, I don't I don't

Look me over, I'm the Cap'm Go ahead and mess with me You'll find out what will happ'm

...

Did you say what I think you just said My hat looks good on me? I agree, I agree

Look me over, I'm the Cap'm You act like it's a joke But I don't see you laughing

---- Broke - Modest Mouse (oops! all mistakes. Broke it all. Want to forget it but can't) ----

Broke account, so I broke a sweat I've bought some things that I sort of regret about now Broke my pace and ran out of time Sometimes I'm so full of shit that it should be a crime

Broke a promise 'cause my car broke down Such a classic excuse it should be bronze by now Broke your glasses, but it broke the ice You said that I was an asshole and I paid the price

Broken hearts want broken necks I've done some things that I'd love to forget, but I can't

Broke up, and I'm relieved somehow It's the end of the discussions that just go 'round and 'round And 'round, and 'round, and 'round ... It was like everything was evidence of broken time

You're living on fancy wine You'll drink that turpentine You're starting conversations You don't even know the topic

---- Spent Gladiator 2 - The Mountain Goats (Defiantly alive) ----

Like a spent gladiator, Crawling in the coliseum dust. Who can count on his remaining limbs, All the people he can trust. Like the one who stands behind him, Cheering him on. Ecstatic when he stands defiant, Wild with abandon when he's gone. Just stay alive. Keep your eyes on the pay line. Like a village on the step, About to get collectivized. When the men emerge with rifles from the haystack, Everybody looks surprised. Like the mice in the forgotten grain, Way up on the top shelf. Like someone who's found a small town to escape to, Keeps one eye on his abandoned, former self. Stay in the game. Just try to play through the pain. Like a fighter who's been told its finally time for him to quit. Show up in shining colors, And then stand there and get hit. Like the clock that ticks in Dresden, When the whole town's been destroyed. Like the nagging flash of insight, You're always desperate to avoid. Like the bloody-knuckled gunman, Still stationed at the breach. Like that board game with the sliders, And the children on the beach. Stay alive. Maybe spit some blood at the camera. Just stay alive. Stay forever alive.

---- You Only Live Once - The Strokes (just general Harry, talking about the skills, choices you can make, what kind of cop you can be) ----

Twenty-nine different attributes Only seven that you like, oh-oh Twenty ways to see the world, oh And twenty ways to start a fight, oh

...

And countless odd religions too It doesn't matter which you choose, oh, no One stubborn way to turn your back, oh This I've tried and now refuse, oh

Oh don't, don't, don't get up I can't see the sunshine Oh, I'll be waiting for you, baby 'Cause I'm through Sit me down Shut me up I'll calm down And I'll get along with you

---- Pork and Beans - Weezer (Superstar Cop) ----

They say I need some rogaine to put in my hair Work it out at the gym to fit my underwear Oakley makes the shades to transform a tool You'd hate for the kids to think that you've lost your cool

I'ma do the things that I wanna do I ain't got a thing to prove to you I'll eat my candy with the pork and beans Excuse my manners if I make a scene I ain't gonna wear the clothes that you like I'm fine and dandy with the me inside One look in the mirror and I'm tickled pink I don't give a hoot about what you think

Everyone likes to dance to a happy song With a catchy chorus and beat so they can sing along Timbaland knows the way to reach the top of the charts Maybe if I work with him I can perfect the art

No, I don't care I don't care

---- Freaks - Surf Curse (head filled with skills, The Final Dream) ----

Don't kill me just help me run away From everyone I need a place to stay Where I can cover up my face Don't cry, I am just a freak

I am just a freak(x3)

My head is filled with parasites Black holes cover up my eyes I dream of you almost every night Hopefully I won't wake up this time

I won't wake up this time(x3)

---- The Smallest Church in Sussex - British Sea Power (oh yeah this is mandatory) ----

#disco elysium #harry du bois #harrier du bois #hdb #disco elysium playlist #generally wanted to keep this playlist fun to listen to despite the subject matter to there are still a lot of songs w good beats #communists have the music gets stuck in my head all the time #also sorry to repost this #i forgot to tag anything and if you edit something to add tags it doesn't seem to show up in search

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lsmu · 2 years

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Book 1 Chapter 12: Follow Your Heart

I slowly opened my eyes, then blinked a few times. It took me a few seconds to realise where I was, and even longer to remember what had happened the night before.

I had a foursome with Jennie, Lisa, and Rosé, before getting a blowjob from my sister and finishing on her face. Shit. That did happen, didn't it? Or was it all just a dream?

Slowly, I glanced at the clock at the bedside drawer. It was a little past 9 am. I realised I was alone in the bed, no one else was there.

"Good morning, Babe. You're awake? I prepared you some breakfast!"

Jennie had just entered the room, wearing a tight white tank top and denim pants. She was carrying a tray with a plate of pancakes with berries on a small bowl beside it, a small jug of maple syrup, and a cup of hot coffee.

"Where are the others?" I asked her, and realised I needed water to lubricate my throat. I took one water bottle from the bedside drawer and drank.

"Oh they left for Seoul just now. We have an event to attend around lunchtime. Will be on TV, so you can watch it!" she said cheerily, placing the tray on the bed next to me. She then sat and kissed my cheek.

I realised it was Monday, so it was understandable that they had to work. I remembered I had work to do in the afternoon as well, but honestly I just wanted to stay there at the beach house with Jennie.

"You're leaving too?" I asked her, slightly disappointed. She nodded. "Blackpink without Jennie? Please..." she uttered confidently. I chuckled and kissed her cheek. "You look absolutely beautiful," I said truthfully. She smiled, wrinkling her nose cutely, and kissed me again.

"Thanks, Babe..." "... And delicious," I continued. She giggled and bit her lower lip. "Delicious enough to eat?" she teased. I grinned and kissed her lips.

We kissed briefly, but then she pulled herself, looking at me apologetically.

"Sorry, Yeongi... I want to stay here with you too, but I really gotta go now," she said slowly. I smiled and nodded. "It's alright. Don't let me make you late," I said. "I'll see you after the event tonight," she said. I nodded.

"Have fun working, Babe! Make those Blinks love you more!" I said. She chuckled, kissed me again, and stood up. "I don't care about them as long as this one Blink I'm talking to right now loves me," she said. I laughed at how cheesy she sounded, but I nodded anyway.

Jennie opened her wardrobe and took out a white shirt to wear. She kissed me goodbye, and left.

I sat there silently on the bed, still not fully awake. I blinked slowly, then reached for the coffee cup. The aroma of coffee woke me up nicely, and I smiled, trying to remember every single detail of what happened last night. I chuckled, still not believing how lucky I was.

I finished my breakfast quickly, had shower, and dressed up. I went down, and saw that the girls had cleaned up everything nicely. The trash were all collected nicely in bags outside, the floor swept and mopped. I chuckled. Where did they get the energy to wake up so early to clean up the mess we made, after drinking so much and having crazy sex last night?

As I entered the kitchen, I saw a paper bag on the pantry, with a post-it note on it. I approached it, and I saw my name on the note. I recognized Jisoo's handwriting. I reached it.

'Don't forget your lunch. See you later, YeongYeong!'

I opened the bag. Inside were just two rolls of kimbap, but I knew Jisoo made it herself, because the foil wrapping was folded neatly in a way only Jisoo could do. I smiled, and suddenly I felt a single tear wetting my cheek as one memory came to my mind.

Jisoo used to leave me a lunch package every day when we still lived together. Mom was usually out for work so early in the morning, so Jisoo would be the one preparing breakfast for both of us every morning. Even after she became a trainee and moved in with the members to their dorm and later on when she debuted, she'd still send me packed lunches every now and then.

I realised there were so many memories we shared together as siblings, mainly because she made so much effort to keep me close with her, even after she became a superstar, even after she moved to America.

I took the bag, went outside to my car, and drove back to Seoul. I let my mind drift off during the two hours drive, replaying everything that had happened on the weekend.

On Friday when I picked up Jisoo from Incheon airport, I never thought that I would be spending the weekend getting involved with all these craziness, starting from the VLive with Jennie, Irene, and Jisoo, getting abducted, becoming a foot soldier for Suzy and the IPG in their fight against Park Manse and his cronies, meeting Sandara and Taeyeon, getting shot at by Manse himself, being raped by Suzy and Sana, and finding out that Lisa was the traitor.

But, I thought with a smile, not everything that happened over the weekend was bad. I had sex with all Blackpink members except Jisoo, managed to cancel the headline from being released, practically defeated the bosses and saved my sister, and Jennie became my girlfriend.

And... What Jisoo did last night. I knew she was drunk, but she was also drunk Friday night at the hotel, and she still didn't willingly give me a blowjob like last night. Last night, it was as if she wanted it. Was it because of what Jennie said to her? Follow her heart? What was that supposed to mean?

As I entered Seoul and reached my apartment building, another set of thoughts entered my mind. What would happen with Manse and the other bosses now that they've pulled their shares from YG and invested in Naver, but didn't get the benefits they expected? Would they still stay in YG?

Back at SM Entertainment's Headquarters, Taeyeon said that she could guarantee that Manse would retaliate sooner or later, as was confirmed by Manse himself in his last call with Suzy. When and how would he do it? And if they did retaliate eventually, how would the IPG prepare to fight them back? Suzy and Taeyeon were so confident that they would be ready... But how?

I parked my car, went up to my unit, picked up my work equipment, and drove to the studio in Gangnam for our scheduled photoshoot. The TV in the studio was playing Blackpink's event, and I saw the girls were performing as well as they usually do: Energetic, gorgeous, powerful. I smiled and started my work, pushing the thoughts and unanswered questions I had the entire morning to the back of my mind.

When I finished my work, the sun was almost setting. I thanked the clients and bid my coworkers farewell, before taking out my phone and called Jennie. After a few dial tones, she picked up.

"Baby! I missed you!" "Miss you too, Babe. Where are you?" "At home. My home. You wanna come?" "Sure! I just finished work. I'll head down there now." "Awesome! See you soon! Love you!" "Love you too!"

I smiled and shook my head as she hung up. I still couldn't believe the reality that I was Jennie's boyfriend now. I headed down to my car and drove straight to Hannam. I pulled over to Jennie's apartment, parked my car in the basement, and quickly went up to the 25th floor. I knocked on her door, and she immediately opened.

"Yeongi~!" she exclaimed and jumped to hug me. I laughed and hugged back, then kissed her lips.

"How's the event?" I asked. "It was good! Not too tiring, and we performed well," she said as she let me in, then she turned and glared at me. "Ya! You didn't watch, did you?" she yelled jokingly. I laughed. "No no! I watched it! The studio where I worked played the event on TV!" I tried to defend myself. She laughed and grabbed my hand, leading me to the bar.

Jennie picked up two bottles of beer from her fridge, opened them both, and offered one to me.

"Gomawo," I said as I took the bottle and clinked it with hers. "Cheers!"

We drank and then stared at each other, smiling.

"When are you guys going back to the States?" I asked her passingly. "This Sunday. We've got a week to spend together... Or together with Irene," she said casually as she drank her beer.

I found myself hesitating hearing her words. Before this weekend, I would be jumping happily if someone told me I'd have a chance to spend a week together with Jennie and Irene, especially not in a professional setting but as... What, lovers? But I felt a pang of jealousy when she mentioned her name just now, knowing that Irene was also Jennie's lover other than me. Again, Jennie picked this up instantly.

"You're jealous," she said with a chuckle, holding my hand.

I shook my head and smiled, trying to hide my feelings, but Jennie knew better.

"Don't be, Babe..." she whispered. "I love you as my boyfriend. But Irene is my girlfriend, so I do love her too. You know this from the start."

I felt ashamed, so I looked down.

"I know," I said. "I guess I'm just being selfish."

She giggled.

"That's normal. I know it's not easy for you... Jumping into a three-way relationship right from the start. But..." she squeezed my hand. I looked up and met her eyes. She was looking at me sincerely.

"... I do know that I'm so in love with you, Yeongi, and I really want our relationship to work out," she said, looking directly into my eyes. "By now you must have known that I'm always telling the truth."

I knew she was being earnest, so I smiled.

"At least give it a shot, hm?" she said. Finally, I nodded.

Jennie smiled and reached across the bar table to hug me tightly. She leaned and whispered to my ears.

"... And you'll get to fuck her any way you please, too."

I laughed. This girl, seriously!

"Ya!" I exclaimed. She laughed and walked to the sofa, throwing herself there. "I'm serious, Babe! Irene might look and act cold and tough initially... But she warms up pretty quickly after you know her... More intimately," she said, stretching herself.

I chuckled and sat next to her. I decided I won't deny myself the chance to know my favourite idol more intimately going forward, if that's what it took to make my relationship with Jennie work. Jennie rested her head on my shoulder.

"So what should we do tonight? Wanna go on a date again? Arcade after dinner?" I asked her. She laughed. "You want to get beat up again?" Jennie challenged me. "Ya! I wasn't that bad!"

Jennie chuckled, then fell silent. At that moment, a question popped into my mind.

"Jen." "Hm?" "Last night... At the beach..." "What about it?"

I hesitated.

"I... Nah. Forget it."

She turned to face me.

"There you go again, Yeongi," she said. "Huh?" "Just say it! Look, you took the chance to ask me out on Saturday and you came home that night with a sexy girlfriend!" she said, pointing at herself.

I chuckled and decided to just ask.

"Last night... At the beach. You said something to Noona," I said. "I said a lot of things to her. Which one?" she asked me. "Follow your heart," I said. "What does that mean?"

Jennie stared at me. For a moment, her face was unreadable, but then she smiled and hugged my arm, before resting her head on my shoulder again.

"She kissed you after that, right?" she asked. I nodded. "Yeah. And then..." "And then she blew you before letting you finish on her face again," Jennie said, chuckling. "Y–yeah. What's with that?" I asked her.

Jennie stared silently at the ceiling, head still resting on my shoulder. I could feel like she was thinking of what to say to me.

"I told her just that..." she uttered. "She should follow her heart." "I get that. But what does that have anything to do with her kissing and blowing me afterwards?" I was still confused.

Jennie stayed silent for a while, but then suddenly she chuckled, as if an idea just came to her mind.

"You really wanna know?" she asked me. "Of course!"

Jennie sat up and stared at me, holding my hand. I noticed she was smiling wide.

"Then you should go to her place right now," she said with assurance. I was taken aback. "W–what? Why?" "You said you wanna know what 'Follow Your Heart' means, right?" Jennie asked me again, her smile widened to a grin.

I nodded, feeling even more confused.

"So get up, go to your car, and go to her house," Jennie said. "Her house? You mean her apartment in Gangnam?" I asked. Jennie shook her head. "Nope. Geumho-dong," Jennie said. "... You used to live there too, right?"

I was surprised. That was our childhood home growing up, and my home up to two years ago even after mom moved to Seodamun-gu.

"She's there now?" I asked. Jennie nodded. "She said she wanted to go somewhere calm to spend the night. I'm willing to bet my entire life savings she's currently cooking there," Jennie said, chuckling.

I was confused. What was Jisoo doing at our old house? Jennie squeezed my hand.

"Go there, Babe. Then you'll understand what I meant last night," she said seriously. "Are you coming with me?" I asked. Jennie shook her head, smiling. "This is for you and your sister to settle," she said. "B–but..."

"I'll be fine, Yeongi. I'll call Irene and have dinner with her. When you're done and if you feel like joining, you're more than welcomed," she cut me off, smiling wide. "... Although I have a feeling that you'll spend the night there."

I had no idea what she meant by that, but she looked so sure.

"Are you sure?" I asked her. Jennie nodded and kissed me gently. "I am. Go now," she whispered.

Slowly, I got up and walked to the door. We kissed again, and she opened the door for me. I walked out.

"Babe!" Jennie called me. I turned. "You need to do that too." "Do that? Do what?"

Jennie smiled beautifully.

"Follow your heart," she said sweetly. "I love you, Babe. I'll see you tomorrow!"

She turned and closed the door.

Even more confused now, I walked to my car and drove to Geumho-dong. I used to live there until Jisoo bought me my new apartment before she moved to America. I wanted to sell the house after I moved out, but mom was against it, saying that it has so many memories in it, so I had been visiting the house every now and then to clean it up or to crash for the night when I worked near there, but it's been so long since my last visit to this house. Why did Jisoo suddenly decide to stay there tonight? And what did it have to do with what Jennie said?

I arrived at the house. It was a two-storied landed house, not an apartment building, so I parked by the roadside and walked inside. I unlocked the gate and opened the front door. As soon as I entered, I was greeted with the delicious aroma of food coming from the kitchen.

Jennie was right. Jisoo was busy in the kitchen, humming a tune happily. She was facing a large pot on the stove, preparing something that appeared and smelled like seullong-tang. She didn't notice me coming, and I realised that she must not be expecting anyone else to come here tonight anyway.

I stood there silently, looking at my sister, and a smile slowly starting to form on my lips. Jisoo was wearing a loose, lacy white shirt and a plaid skirt, with a brown apron over it, her hair tied in a ponytail. She looked absolutely relaxed and in her comfort zone. She was sweating buckets, undoubtedly from the steam and heat of the soupy dish she was preparing, but she somehow still looked absolutely beautiful.

At that moment, I realised how envious I was to the guy who would come home from work every night to find her like this in the future.

I felt my stomach gurgling, and finally I decided to notify her of my arrival.

"Noona!" I called her.

Startled, she screamed a little and turned.

"Omo! Aigoo... Yeongi! You startled me!" she scolded me, flustered. "What are you cooking?" "What are you doing here?"

We asked at the same time. Then we paused, and slowly burst into laughter.

"What are you cooking?" I asked again, gently. She smiled. "Seullong-tang! Can't you tell from the smell?" she asked me, chuckling. "Ya! What are you doing here? I thought you'd be with Jennie!"

Again, my stomach gurgled, and I decided not to go straight to the matter. I wanted to eat so badly, so I only shrugged.

"I went to her place earlier, but she's got plans with Irene tonight. She told me you're here," I said, not lying.

Jisoo stared at me, and I knew that she knew that I was hiding something. But she only gave me the 'I told you so' smirk without saying anything and turned to face her seullong-tang pot again.

"What?" I said, but a chuckle escaped my mouth. "Nothing," she said, still facing her dish, but I saw her smiling.

I smiled and approached her near the stove.

"What is it?" I pressed. She laughed. "Ya! You consciously entered into a three-way relationship with a bisexual girl who already had a girlfriend. This was bound to happen! So don't be disappointed now that she's spending time with her other lover," she turned and told me off, grinning wide like it was something funny.

I couldn't help but laugh. She might be an international superstar now, but she was and forever is still my Noona. As far as I'm concerned, she could tell me off as much as she wanted, as many times as she wanted to do so. She pouted her lips and turned back to continue cooking.

"I didn't say I was disappointed," I defended myself. Jisoo chuckled. "Yeongi-ah... I'm your Noona. I know when my brother is disappointed or not," she said without looking back.

To be completely honest, I did feel a little disappointed when Jennie said she'd have dinner with Irene earlier, but I had promised her that I would give it a try, so I didn't think about it. Gosh. Jisoo could pick that up too?

"Enough talking! You haven't eaten, right?" she asked me. Before I answered, she continued. "I heard your stomach gurgling."

I laughed out loud. My sister knew me best.

"I'm starving," I admitted. She chuckled. "Lucky I prepared enough for the two of us," she mused, then she pointed to the rice cooker on the dining table.

"Go prepare the rice, and take some kimchi out of the fridge while you're at it," she commanded me. Behind her back, I jokingly saluted her like she was my military commanding officer, and then quickly carried out her orders.

In a short while, she had transferred the steaming hot seullong-tang to a large stone pot and carried it nimbly to the table. I had prepared the rice and the kimchi, and apparently Jisoo had cooked a plate of pajeon as well, so she took it out from the kitchen and served it in front of us.

"Aahh... I really love cooking!" she exclaimed as she took off her apron and sat across the table in front of me. I laughed. "You know you sounded just like an ahjumma, right, Noona?" I said. "Ya!" she exclaimed and glared as if she was offended, then laughed. "Come on! Let's eat!"

I started eating happily. She was indeed a great cook. Everything on the table that evening tasted wonderful.

"Have you contacted mom?" I asked her as we ate. She shook her head. "Not yet," she said ponderously. "I should have, shouldn't I?"

I nodded. I knew she wasn't on the best terms with mom ever since she moved to America, but at least she should have told her that she was around, right? Even more so that she only had a week left before flying off again.

"I guess I should," she uttered, biting her spoon absentmindedly. "I'll contact her tomorrow."

We fell into silence and continued eating. I wondered when was the best moment to bring up the real reason why I had come there, but maybe I should just enjoy dinner with her first. I remembered I hadn't thanked her for the kimbap she made for me earlier.

"Thank you for the lunch, Noona..." I said. She smiled and nodded. "Don't you miss the lunch package I used to prepare you everyday back then?" she said with a chuckle. "I do," I said truthfully.

She stared at me, smiling, but then she looked away. To my surprise, I noticed tears starting to fill her eyes. She quickly wiped her tears and smiled. I reached to hold her hand.

"You alright, Noona?"

She smiled and nodded.

"I'm sorry I've been so busy all the time, Yeongi..." she uttered. "Don't be. You've done so much for me," I comforted her. "You should visit us in America sometimes," she said. "Now that you're with Jennie and all. Long distance relationships can be hard."

I smiled and nodded. She always cares so much for me, and I'm eternally grateful for that.

"Let's finish our food! It doesn't taste as good when it's cold!" she said.

I laughed and obeyed her, and we continued eating dinner happily, joking and talking about many things. After dinner, we sat side by side on the sofa in our living room. Jisoo took some sliced watermelons out of the fridge and made us some iced coffee, insisting that we had had too much alcohol over the weekend. Jeez. She was really turning into an ahjumma wasn't she?

"Thanks for the food, Noona," I said after a while. She nodded and sipped her coffee. "Don't mention it. You know I love to cook. It's a stress relief for me. I should thank you for helping me finish them," she said. I laughed.

She finished her coffee and stared at me. Knowing my sister, I knew she was waiting for me to tell her the real reason why I came to the house. I decided this was the right time to start.

"So... I came here because... I wanted to ask about what Jennie told you last night," I opened the topic.

She chuckled.

"Which part? 'Follow your heart'?" she asked directly.

I was surprised that she went directly there, but I nodded.

"Why does that trouble you so much?" she asked again. "Because..." "Because I kissed you and blew you afterwards?"

Again, her directness took me by surprise. I kept telling myself that she was drunk and wasn't thinking straight when she did that last night, but now that she asked me, I realised that she must have been completely aware of what she did, or at least remembered it fully.

"Hm?" she pressed. "Y–Yes," I admitted.

Jisoo put down her glass on the table and turned it slowly in her hands. She looked down, finding the right words.

"I... Jennie told me that... She'd... She'd known all along about... About us," she said. "About us?" I asked her. Jisoo kept staring at her glass. "... She told me she'd always felt that we... Like each other... More than just as siblings," she uttered.

Jennie told me the same thing on our first date. Did she tell her the other part?

"Did she... Also told you that she'd always felt..." "That there's always sexual tension whenever we're together?" Jisoo interjected, then nodded. "Yes. She told me that, too."

Without us even saying it, I knew that both of us agreed with Jennie. Jisoo cleared her throat, then continued.

"I objected to her at first, thinking that she must be joking or had lost her mind. But... But..." she stuttered. "... But you knew she was right," I completed her sentence.

Jisoo looked up, staring at my eyes. It was the same look I saw at the hotel that morning when I chased her up to the penthouse. What was it? Was it lust? Love?

"That's when she told me... To stop caring about what the world says, what society says right or wrong, and to just... To just follow my heart," she said.

Finally, I understood what Jennie meant, but a second later, I also understood what it meant for Jisoo, and this made my heart beat faster. Did that mean.... Did that mean that...?

"A–and... What are you going to do?" I stuttered as I asked her. "I'm..." she said softly. "... I think I'm following my heart right now."

Slowly, Jisoo reached my hand and grasped it gently. Our eyes still locked to each other's, just like last night. She leaned forward and spoke softly, but with conviction.

"I know I'm crazy for saying this. You're my brother, and you're my best friend's boyfriend, but..."

Jisoo paused. I saw tears filling her eyes again.

"... But I love you... And...," she whispered, and leaned closer to me. "... I want you."

We kissed, slowly and gently at first, but then, as seconds passed, it became more and more passionate. Our tongues entered each other's mouth, twisting and turning inside. I felt my heart beating faster than ever, my knees weakened. My penis shot up to a full hard on instantly, just like it did last night.

Slowly, my hand reached out to her neck, caressing her jawline. She did the same, stroking my cheek with her smooth fingers. My free hand reached back, stroking her long hair. We kissed and kissed and kissed some more, until after what felt like eternity, we separated, catching our breaths, still staring at each other.

"I'm sorry, Yeongi..." she whispered, her eyes and cheeks wet with tears.

I reached out and wiped her tears gently. There was no turning back now. Not after she confessed her feelings like that. I finally understood what happened between us all along, what those feelings I felt Friday night at the hotel were, what made me willing to fight all the way with the IPG against Park Manse and his cronies, and what made me hold back the names initially from Suzy.

This feeling we shared between us, Jisoo and I, was totally wrong, horrible even, but like what Jennie said... I should just follow my heart, just like what my sister had done.

"Don't be sorry, Noona..." I whispered, then placed both palms of my hands on her cheeks. "I love you..." I uttered, leaning forward. "... And I really want you too."

We kissed again, more passionately this time. Our fingers were caressing each other's body parts, and soon, Jisoo's slipped to my thigh, and rubbed my boner outside of my pants. We separated again and smiled at each other shyly.

Without words, I reached out my trembling hands, unbuttoning her shirt. She stared at me. I could hear her ragged breathing, and felt her heart beating as fast as mine. Gently, I swiped her shirt off her torso, revealing her white lacy bra. She reached out to unbutton my shirt, and I felt her hands were trembling too.

"Yeoni..." she whispered.

We kissed again, softly. She unbuckled and unzipped my pants, and I wiggled to let it fall down. My penis was fully hard, bulging underneath my boxer. Jisoo chuckled as she rubbed it gently.

"No wonder girls like you so much," Jisoo whispered. I chuckled and kissed her neck as I reached down to pull her skirt down.

We sat there on the sofa, looking at each other, both in our underwear. Staring at me, Jisoo slowly moved to straddle me, and I hugged her back to give her support. I looked at her entire body and gently ran my fingers from the top of her beautiful black hair, down to her angelic face, to her slender neck, to her delicious looking breasts, to her flat tummy, to her smooth, thick hips and thigh. She really looked like an angel. She shuddered and closed her eyes, enjoying my touches.

"Y–Yeoni..." she whispered again.

I moved forward, kissing her breasts. It was plump and juicy, and her skin was so fair, smooth and soft, it felt like I was kissing a soft tofu. My hand reached to her back and unclipped her bra, and she took it off swiftly, revealing her beautiful breasts.

I looked up and saw that her face was already blushing red. She breathed heavily, and then she hugged my head and pulled it towards her, pressing my face into her breasts. I licked and sucked her tits and nipples gently, enjoying the softness. Jisoo twitched and moaned in pleasure.

"A–ah... Yeong... Yeongi..."

Her nipples were fully erect, perking up nicely for me to savor. I kept sucking them interchangeably, my hands slipped to her meaty ass and squeezed them. Jisoo gasped and moaned a little more, her body tensing. I could feel that she was about to reach her climax.

"Yeong... Y–Yeongi... Yeong... Mmhh...!"

Instead of screaming, she let out a loud sigh, and I felt her spraying my waist with her juice. She trembled and shuddered, but to my surprise, she didn't crumble. She just continued straddling me with the same posture.

"Noona..." I whispered as I looked up. Her face was completely red, sweat dripping from her forehead. She smiled and kissed my neck. "My turn, Yeongi..." she said, and slid down, kneeling in front of me.

Staring at me, she slowly took off my boxer. I never felt my penis as hard as that moment ever before, and it swayed to and fro as it was released from the confines of my boxer. Jisoo giggled and leaned closer, placing her chin on my thigh next to my cock.

"Since when did you become this big?" she asked. I laughed and stroked her hair. My dick slapped her cheek as it swayed, and she giggled again. Fuck. This was so hot.

Jisoo glanced at my cock and started kissing it gently. I wanted to close my eyes, but something made me keep staring at my sister. She kissed it from the head to the shaft, down to the balls. I shuddered as she started going upwards, licking it slowly.

"N... Noona... Mmh..."

Jisoo smiled and started opening her mouth wide, slowly putting all 8 inches of my cock inside. The same numbing sensation I felt last night started filling my body again. I looked down and saw her staring at me, and started moving her head front and back. I saw my shaft coming in and out her mouth, coated with a thin, shimmering layer of her saliva. A slobbering sound filled the air.

"Noona... Noona... Aah..."

I grabbed her head. I could feel the bottom of her throat with my dick head, I felt her entire oral cavity clasping around my cock, her warm tongue wiggling underneath my shaft. I felt my balls keep hitting her chin and neck as she moved faster, devouring my cock like it was a popsicle.

"Sh... Shit... Shit... Noon–a... Aah... I–I..."

I knew I was about to cum, so I started pushing her away, but she tensed her body, as if asking me to cum inside her throat. I couldn't hold back any longer.

"J–Jisoo Noona!"

I exploded inside her throat, cumming again and again. She kept my cock locked in her throat, drinking every single drop of my semen coming out of me. Eventually, the sheer volume of my cum made her choke, and she quickly pulled back, coughing.

"A–are you okay, Noona?" I asked her worriedly.

She looked up, and I could see my cum leaking out of her nose. Shit! To my surprise, Jisoo laughed.

"I'm fine," she said with a chuckle and wet eyes. She blew her nose and wiped it, before chuckling again. "You came so much, Yeongi..."

I couldn't help but laugh. I never thought I'd heard those words come from my sister's mouth. She stood up, then slowly and sexily, she took off her panties, revealing her pussy. I noticed that she'd shaved it clean, and her pussy looked so chubby and delicious. Jisoo stood there, completely naked, looking at me, smiling.

"You're still hard," she pointed out the fact, and smiled even wider.

My eyes widened. What did she mean by that? What did she expect me to do? Surely it couldn't be...?

She reached forward and pulled me by the arms, helping me stand. She then put my arms around her, before moving forward and hugged me tightly. My cock poked her belly, and she giggled. Somehow, without her saying it, I knew what she wanted me to do. My conscience told me to refuse her, but I couldn't deny the fact that I wanted it too.

"Noona... We–we're..." "Siblings? I know that," she whispered, then looked up.

We stared at each other. She smiled.

"... I don't care," she whispered again. "... I want you."

I hesitated. What should I do? As always, my sister gave me guidance.

"Carry me to your room, Yeongi..." she asked me. I nodded, and scooped her up. She chuckled and clung to me, just like last night.

I carried her to my room and rested her on my bed gently, the same bed I slept in during my teenage years, the same bed where I used to cry at night when I missed her after she joined Blackpink and left the house.

She laid there, smiling wide. Unlike Jennie who beckoned me to join her by wiggling her finger, Jisoo only needed to smile and stare at me. I climbed the bed and kissed her. She smiled and kissed me back, holding my face in her hands. I decided I wanted to prolong this night as much as possible, so instead of directly entering her, I moved my head downward, facing her pussy.

"May I?" I asked her. She chuckled and nodded.

I buried my face in her crotch, and Jisoo jolted and moaned loudly. I devoured her labia, before pushing my tongue inside her pussy. It was tight as hell, and I instantly felt like my tongue was sucked inside.

"A–ah... Yeongi!" Jisoo moaned loudly.

I wiggled my tongue, and slid my index finger to her clit, rubbing it. Jisoo trembled and jolted from the pleasure, her body tensing and relaxing rapidly.

"Yeong–Yeongii... Aah... Aaah!" she moaned even louder.

Her fingers grabbed my hair, pushing my head forward, and I felt her thighs closing around me. I kept eating her pussy ravenously, and Jisoo kept trembling, gasping, moaning, and calling my name again and again.

"Yeongi... Yeongi... Yeong–i... Aah!"

She jolted again and squirted. I was surprised at how much juice she sprayed on my face, so I staggered back. She squirmed and came a second time in succession, again squirting powerfully. She arched her back upwards, before dropping back to the bed, panting loudly for air.

"Hh... H–hh... Yeongi... Yeong..." she looked at me, her pussy juice dripping from my face, and suddenly she laughed. "I'm–I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, chuckling. I laughed too. She looked so beautiful even when drenched in sweat and panting for breath like that.

I felt my cock pulsing, protesting me for not putting it inside Jisoo after all these foreplay. She looked at it and chuckled.

"It wants you to put it in," she said.

Her words surprised me, and didn't know how to answer. I really wanted to put it in her so badly, but I still had my doubts. I thought of a solution, and I had a crazy idea. I approached Jisoo and grabbed her waist gently.

"Noona... May I...?" I asked her. She looked at me confusedly, but didn't protest when I turned her around and placed her in a doggy style position. A second later, she realised. "Omo... You... You want to start from behind?" she said, surprised.

I chuckled. I always wanted to enter her from the back door, but this time I wanted to do it because I wasn't ready to take her virginity just yet.

"Are you okay with that?" I asked her. She turned and giggled. "Of course..." she said, perking her hips up.

I squeezed her meaty ass. In this position, her butt looked so juicy and thick, bigger and rounder than any other girls, even bigger than Jennie's bubble butt. My dick was still coated with her saliva, but anal sex could be painful, even more so for a first timer like her.

I placed my cock in between her butt cheeks and slapped it on them, making them jiggle. She giggled again. I wet my thumbs with my saliva and used it to spread her asshole, before spitting on it several times, giving it lubrication. I swiped my cock slowly on it, and this made Jisoo shudder. To my surprise, she was completely relaxed, and I felt almost like I could just jam my cock in it without trouble. But I really didn't want to hurt her, so I had to be sure.

I tried inserting my index finger. Jisoo jolted, but it slid in easily, and she didn't react too badly, so gently, I put in my middle finger as well. Her insides were moist and warm.

"A–ah... Yeongi... Mmhh..." she moaned.

I started pulling my fingers and putting it back in, basically fingering her asshole. She squirmed and moaned, but I noticed she didn't react as if she was in pain. I guessed I could start. I pulled out my fingers, and placed my cock on her asshole, before spreading it open with my thumbs.

"I'm... Putting it in, Noona," I said, asking permission. She nodded.

Slowly, I pushed my cock inside. It was so tight and hard at first, but as I pushed harder, suddenly my entire dick entered her, sliding inside effortlessly. Jisoo gasped. I felt my dick pulsing inside her warm rectum.

"A–ah! Aa...hh... Yeongi!"

Feeling encouraged, I pulled back and thrusted in harder. Jisoo jolted and moaned louder, and I felt her entire body tensed, before spraying my thighs with her juice. She came with just one thrust into her ass.

"Yeong–Y–Yeongi..." she stuttered.

I grabbed her ass and pounded her hard and fast. Jisoo moaned, gasped, and sighed, her body tensing and relaxing and tensing again, and it felt like with every two or three thrusts I made, she came hard, squirting again and again.

"F–Fuck... Noona... Mmh..."

I felt her rectum tightening after every orgasm she reached. Her thick butt cheeks jiggled deliciously with every thrust I made. I lost count how many times she came, before finally I felt like I too was about to reach my climax. I looked at Jisoo. Her eyes were half closed, her mouth agape, but I knew she was fully awake.

"Y–Yeongi... Y-Yeong... Mmh... S–so... G–good... Aahh..." she moaned. "F–Fuck Noona... I'm... I'm..."

Jisoo turned to face me, then kissed my lips, her tongue slobbering inside. I grabbed her tits and squeezed them, and Jisoo squealed. My fingers pinched and played both her nipples. I felt I was about to explode.

"F... Fuck. Fuck! Noona–Noona!"

I thrusted in, and came in her ass again and again. Jisoo also reached another orgasm, squirting heavily to the bed. How much juice did my sister have inside her?

I pulled out, and Jisoo slumped to the bed, panting, her body twitching and trembling, my cum leaking out of her asshole and wetting her thick thighs. I thought I had finished after cumming twice, but to my surprise, my cock was still fully rock hard, as if demanding me to put it in the right hole still.

Jisoo turned to lie down on her back. She looked at me and smiled.

"I lost count how many times I came," she said weakly. I chuckled. "You surprised me, Noona. One thrust made you cum?" I asked her as I lay myself next to her. She giggled. "It felt like I came with almost every thrust you made," she said, before kissing my lips.

We fell into silence. I felt like I couldn't avoid doing the only thing left to do any longer, and as I looked at her eyes, I knew she wanted it too.

Slowly, I positioned my body on top of hers and kissed her lips again. She flung her arms around my neck and stared at my eyes longingly, still smiling and panting from the impact of the explosive anal sex we just had.

"We're... Really going to do it?" I asked her, unsure. Jisoo smiled. "Do you want to?" she asked me gently.

I didn't answer, but the tip of my cock brushed against her labia, making her squirm. She blinked her beautiful eyes several times, but kept looking at me.

"Do you?" I asked her in return. She giggled and nodded.

I didn't want to tease her and ask her to beg me like I did with Jennie, but somehow I felt hesitant. The beautiful woman I was about to enter was my own sister, and I felt my heart beat loudly in my chest.

As if knowing this, Jisoo pulled me closer and kissed my lips gently, as if trying to comfort me. She then stared directly at my eyes.

"Yeongi... I've never let any man touch me in my entire life," she said. "And I'm not planning to do it with anyone but you."

I gulped. This made my cock grow even harder. I realised I had never taken anyone's virginity before, and now having to do it to my own sister made me even more nervous. But for her to say that she only wanted to do it with me? My cock started brushing the entrance of her virgin pussy again. She squirmed a little, but maintained eye contact.

"W–what?" I stuttered. She chuckled and stared at my eyes intently. "Yeongi, you're my first..." she whispered.

Jisoo kissed me again, then whispered to my ear.

"... And only."

This sent chills through my entire body. She didn't say those words naughtily like how Jennie would say it, and I didn't feel threatened like when Suzy whispered in my ears at the warehouse. She said those words in a way only Jisoo could say it; kind, warm, gentle. But that finally made my resolve.

Slowly, not wanting to hurt her, I put my dick inside her wet pussy. I felt my dick head spread open her labia, then slid inside, engulfed by the warmth of her pussy. Jisoo was staring at my eyes all along.

I pushed a little deeper, and Jisoo let out a soft moan. I felt my head reaching her hymen, and I hesitated again. I was about to take my sister's virginity. In silence, I looked at her. She was breathing heavily again, but she looked at my eyes, and without words, I understood that she told me to continue.

Gently, I pushed forward. I felt her hymen stretching, and a moment later, it tore.

Jisoo's mouth opened to a gape, her eyes widened, her face blushed red, her body tensing. This made me stop.

"Noo–Noona? I–I'm sorry. Does it hur..."

She shook her head rapidly. I knew it hurt, for she shut her eyes close. But she kept shaking her head. I saw tears forming on the corners of her eyes. She let out a loud sigh. I looked down, and I saw blood leaking out of her pussy. Shit. I should pull out, right?

"A–ah... I–I'm fine, Yeong–i..." "Are you sure? Should I pull out?" "No! Don't!" she exclaimed. "Just... Push in." "Are you sure?"

She nodded, forcing a smile. I really didn't want to hurt her, but I wanted to obey her wish, so with an even gentler and slower move, I pushed in. I felt half of my cock had entered her, but I kept sliding inside. It was tighter than anything I had ever felt up to that point, and the insides were so warm and moist.

Jisoo closed her eyes shut, but her mouth gaped wider and wider with every inch that she took in. It felt like almost three quarters of my cock had entered her, but I still had not reached anything inside. Shit. How deep was she?

Finally, just as I felt the base of my cock gently tapped on her crotch, I felt my dick head touching the entrance to her womb. I looked up in surprise to Jisoo. It was as if her pussy was made just for my cock. They matched perfectly.

Jisoo opened her eyes. She looked much calmer now. Maybe the initial shock and pain of being penetrated for the first time had subsided, but she was still panting for breath. She smiled and kissed me.

"Yeongi..." she whispered. I knew what she wanted.

I gently pulled my cock halfway out, and then, with all my might, I thrusted back inside.

"Aah! Ah! Yeong–i! Aah!"

Jisoo's moans aroused me. I thrusted in and out of her pussy with pace and power. Our moves were synchronized, we swayed together like we were two dancers on a stage. I felt her pussy tightening around my cock, and my head kept hitting her cervix. Jisoo moaned and moaned and moaned, and I realised her moans started to sound like a sweet song in my ears.

"Noona... J–Jisoo Noona... Mmhh..." "Y–Yeongi! Yeong... Ah! Aa–ah!"

I stooped down and started kissing her neck, making hickies. She squirmed and hugged me, her legs clasping behind my back, as if not wanting to separate from me. I pounded her again and again. My mind started to get blurry again.

"Y–Y–Yeongi... I–I love–you..." she uttered almost incomprehensibly. "I... Ugh... L–love you too, Noona..."

As I kept pummeling her pussy, she tensed again, and I felt her reaching her climax again, followed by another one, and another one, and another one. Jisoo's body trembled violently.

I looked at her. Her eyes had rolled to the back of her skull, her mouth were agape, her tongue loose. For a moment, it felt like she was about to lose consciousness, but then I felt her pussy getting even tighter, and she locked me with her legs. Shit. I was about to cum. But at this rate I might not be able to pull out in time!

"Noo–Noona... I–I have to pull out. I–I'm about to–cum..." I said.

To my surprise, Jisoo stared at me, then whispered.

"Cum–C... Cum in me," she stuttered.

My eyes widened.

"W–What?" "Cum in me. Cum in me. I–I want it."

At that moment, I felt her womb opening up. Shit. This was not good. I couldn't just cum inside my sister! But she could just take her morning after pills, right? Wait. But she was not sexually active before this. Did she have the pills? What if... What if?

Jisoo kissed me, waking me from my thoughts. I was still pounding her hard. I knew my dick had entered her womb, and I felt like I could really just cum any moment now. Her pussy got even tighter, and she stared directly into my eyes.

"C–Cum in my... Womb, Yeongi. I–Want... You. I want you inside," she said.

I gave up.

I came inside my sister's womb, and I knew I came even more than I came when Sana blew me at the warehouse. I felt spurt after spurt of sperm coming out of my cock into Jisoo's womb, and I did it while staring at my sister's eyes, not breaking eye contact with her.

An eternity later, slowly, I pulled out, completely spent. I looked down, and saw a large quantity of white liquid leaking out of Jisoo's pussy. My head felt dizzy, so I rested it on the pillow. I looked to my side, and saw Jisoo lying there, panting, her eyes half closed, her mouth wide open, staring blankly to the ceiling.

"Noona..." I called her. She turned her head slowly. "Yeongi," she whispered, then hugged my arm. "... Thank you."

I looked at the ceiling. I couldn't believe I just had sex with my own sister and came inside her mouth, her ass... And her womb. It felt like I had just broken every single norm in the world. But somehow, something told me that everything would be fine. I must be crazy.

I glanced at my sister, who was half asleep next to me. She still looked like an angel. I pulled the blanket up and covered our bodies. Jisoo smiled and hugged my arm tighter.

I didn't know what would happen next, how my relationship with Jennie would be affected by this, how my relationship with Jisoo herself would turn out to be after this. I still had so many unanswered questions about the IPG and Park Manse, but for that moment in time, I decided that my life was perfect.

I glanced at Jisoo again. She'd closed her eyes, but I knew she hadn't slept. I wanted an assurance from her, so I asked.

"Noona," "Hm?" "Are we... What are we now?"

She chuckled weakly.

"What do you mean?" "Now that we've done this... What are we?"

Jisoo paused, but then I felt her smiling.

"We're monsters, aren't we?" she uttered. "Monsters?" I asked.

She chuckled.

"Yes we are," she whispered. "... Lovesick monsters."

#lovesickmonster #lsmu #book1 #blackpink #jennie #jisoo

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pixieungerstories · 3 years

Text

Quarentine - 1

They always say ‘buy the worst house on the best block that you can afford’ and god knows this place was a total shit hole. 1200 square feet on an overgrown lot surrounded by McMansions. Hell, I paid less for the place that the land was worth. I’m amazed someone hadn’t bulldozed the place years ago.

To make a long story short, I did not look a gift house horse in the mouth.

I mean, it wasn’t a total write off. None of the windows were smashed. There were mature fruit trees in the backyard. If you ignored the weeds and rotting fruit, there was a lot of potential. The plumbing was lead pipes and the electrical was knob and tube, but I know people and I could trade favours to get that replaced. The foundations were good and the roof barely leaked.

I spent the summer camping in a tent in the back yard and slowly getting the place winterized enough that I could move it.

It was still a creepy ass house when I did. It had a boiler. I had no idea how to deal with that, but I was learning. And I learned how to ignore the whistles, hissing and banging sounds that went with having a boiler. The old rads were cast iron with pretty little details in the corners.

There were holes in the plaster, but I just ignored them. It wasn’t worth fixing when I was going to gut the place and put up drywall eventually. It just made it easier to get at the plumbing.

I started just living in the kitchen and ignoring the rest of the house. I had disconnected the rest of the electrical and plumbing and was using that as a home base while I renovated outwards from there.

There is nothing quite as creepy as sleeping in a sleeping bag on what were probably asbestos tiles in an old house that makes the weird noises that old houses make. I kept reminding myself that they only seemed louder than normal because the place was empty and there was nothing to muffle the sound. The shrieking had to be the upstairs window that didn’t quite shut properly.

I had the feeling that something was watching me and prayed to god it wasn’t rats.

I was in this for the long haul. Get up, shower at the gym, go to work, come home, renovate until it gets dark, shower at the gym, camp out in the kitchen. Not exciting, but satisfying. Let’s face it, this was the only way I was ever going to be able to afford a house.

When the work from home order came, I had to actually get a phone line installed so I could have internet access. Me, my laptop and a kitchen table I rescued from the curbside a while back.

The creepy feeling was worse. I told myself it had to be the isolation kicking in. I skyped with my best friends at night to make up for it. The power was still a bit dodgy and kept going out, but that’s what laptop batteries and cell phones are for, right?

I was sure the cough was from the dust.

The guy delivering groceries left them on the sidewalk instead of the porch. It was fine. I understood completely. I hadn’t done much work on the outside of the building at all.

I realized I was sneezing a bit when I started having to use toilet paper as kleenex.

I was fine. I was young and healthy. I didn’t have any sick days at work so I was determined to just push through.

I tried to get more rest.

I dreamed about something laying a cool hand on my forehead.

The grocery store was out of thermometers.

I mean, did it really matter if I had a fever? I wasn’t leaving the house to share with anyone.

My cough got worse overnight. I was vaguely aware of someone lifting me up and holding a cup of cool water to my lips. I was so fucking thirsty.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I mumbled. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I won’t,” a rumbling voice assured me.

I didn’t remember making soup, but I jolted into awareness sitting at the table with a steaming bowl in front of me. Chicken noodle out of a can. It’s not that hard to make. I’m sure I could add water and heat in my sleep. Apparently, I just did.

I was so cold that night. I don’t know where the extra blankets came from, but they were there in the morning.

I don’t know how I ordered a bed while I was sick, but it was there and on my credit card. So was the mattress and sheets. It must have been the fever talking when I ordered them. I would not have picked out anything that old fashioned looking.

How did I get all this stuff up to the second floor bedroom? I’m sure I don’t remember stripping the paint off the closet doors. I must be losing my mind. I slept, I ate, I stopped logging in at work. I just needed to concentrate on getting better.

By the time I was able to stay awake for more than an hour at a time, the city was shut down. I was confined to my house whether I liked it or not. I was suddenly glad my fever addled brain had ordered a bed while I still could.

The watched feeling was worse. I ordered some rat traps with my groceries. I didn’t catch anything. They didn’t take the bait. I swear I heard snickering when I checked them in the morning. That was a new sound for the boiler to make.

“I am losing my mind,” I repeated to myself. Then blushed when I realized I had said it aloud. “And yes, I also talk to myself,” I added for good measure. “At least it is some sound,” I muttered. “I should turn on some music or something.”

Work was officially shut down but I still had the dumpster outback. I spend my awake time cleaning out the other rooms. The advantage of living in a construction zore was all the dust masks. When I needed to actually go out, that might help. In the meantime, I carefully sorted through the things the previous owners had left behind. Some of it was just trash, but there were some old photographs, lost buttons, even a single antique earring.

“No chance of finding a pair, I bet. Still this could be made over into a necklace or something.” Shit. I was talking to myself again, wasn’t I?

I still got tired easily. I dreamed about my mom stroking my hair as I slept.

The footprints I couldn’t explain away.

I had taken down a section of wall and spent the day carrying out the chunks of plaster before microwaving a pizza pop and tucking in early. In the morning there were footprints in the dust. They weren’t mine. They were huge and it was hard to believe they were human. Weird long toes, with the claw tips a little in front were not what I was expecting.

That was the first time I had wanted to leave the house.

I grabbed my stuff and made it to the front yard before I was spotted by a passing patrol car and ordered back inside. I had no idea how to explain that I thought there was some sort of monster living in my house. I was shaking as I went back inside.

“Hello?” I called from the doorway, ready to run. I had no idea where I could even run to. “Um… Is anyone there?” I don’t know what I was expecting. “Hi? Um …. I bought the house, I didn’t know there was any … thing living here. I have been trying to fix it up.”

“I know.”

Fuck. The scratchy, rasping bass voice was not what I was expecting. “I … uh… I can go back to camping in the yard,” I suggested.

“No.”

I waited to hear if he (?) was going to say anything else.

Apparently not.

“Uh … no I can’t stay here? Or no, you don’t even want me camping in the backyard?”

“If I didn’t want you here, I would have had many opportunities to get rid of you.”

Shit. That wasn’t ominous or threatening at all.

With a low chuckle the voice asked, “Did you mean to say that out loud?”

I froze and tried to remember what I had said. Oh. “No, that was an accident. I’m not used to having anyone around to hear me.”

“I always hear you.”

I closed the door and went out to sit in the garden for a moment to think about that. I ended up pacing, swearing and wishing for a cigarette. I hadn’t smoked in years. The sun started to go down and the bugs came out. I was being eaten alive outside. Going inside was scary but he was right. He had lots of time to …

I flung open the door. “Did you order furniture on my credit card?” I demanded.

The laughter that rang out was a whole other level of creepy. I shivered and thought about going back outside. The door pulled itself closed behind me. I spun to look at it and didn’t see anything. I could hear something breathing. I turned again. Nothing.

“If we are both going to live here, can we at least agree on some ground rules?”

“Like what?” was almost purred in my ear. Looking around wildly, I still couldn’t see anything.

I was shaking now. “Is there a way for you to be less scary so I don’t have a heart attack?” I squeaked.

There was nothing but silence. Still my sense of the presence suggested it was gone.

I didn’t sleep that night. I would just start to nod off then jerk myself awake and look wildly around the room. I never saw anything.

Six am, my alarm went off and I could smell coffee.

All the dust had been swept up.

“Hello?” I whispered.

Nothing. I had coffee and cereal and tried not to think about my surprise roommate. I was so tired, I passed out at my computer in the kitchen at some point that morning, only to wake in bed upstairs in the afternoon. “I don’t want you to touch me while I’m sleeping,” I mumbled, painfully aware that there was dick all I could do to stop it.

“Alright,” the voice said, coming from somewhere in the direction of the closet. “But don’t fall asleep at the table then.”

I breathed a faint sigh of relief. I wasn’t expecting the next part.

“You need to eat something now. You are still recovering.”

There was a can of soup heating on the stove. My breakfast dishes were gone. I found them clean and dry in the cupboard. “Thank you,” I whispered. He didn’t reply. As I ate lunch, I was psyching myself into going upstairs to look in the closet. The door had been painted shut when I got the house, but at some point had been stripped down to the bare wood.

I hadn’t worked up the nerve by the time I was done eating. Or washing and drying the dishes. I found myself at the bottom of the stairs staring up at the second floor. Did I really want to see what was in that closet?

No.

But it would be better to look during the light of day.

Eventually, I made it up there. I put my hand on the knob and tried to turn it. It didn’t budge.

“You want rules?” the voice growled behind me. I spun, there was nothing there. “Do not open that door. Do not come into my space.”

I went from trembling from nerves to bolting down the stairs in an instant. I nearly tripped, but felt something - him? - catch me and set me on my feet.

“Careful,” he purred.

I spent the rest of the day in the garden again. I was still out there when the sun went down and the back light turned on. Then the kitchen light and for a moment I could see something outlined against the antique curtains I hadn’t replaced in the kitchen. I tried to remind myself that he wasn’t necessarily that big. He might just be closer to the light and casting a bigger shadow.

I didn’t believe it, but I tried.

I crept back into the house like a scared child who wasn’t sure how angry their parents were going to be after they had done something wrong. I turned on all the lights on the main floor and stayed in the kitchen away from the stairs.

“Planning on staying up all night?”

I jumped. “How are you always behind me?”

“I live in the shadows. Go to bed.”

“Um… I was thinking, that should be your room, really. Your closet. You picked out the bed. I can just camp down -”

“No. Go to bed.”

“Do you really think I’m going to be able to sleep in a room with a closet that must not be opened? I have read Blue Beard, you know.”

“So have I. The wife gets the house and lives happily ever after.”

“The last wife does,” I pointed out. “The first dozen or so didn’t.”

He chuckled at that. “We made a deal, remember?”

“Are you teasing me? What deal?”

“I don’t touch you in your sleep. You don’t sleep in the kitchen anymore.”

“How big are you?”

The lights flickered and went off.

“Do you want to see me?” he purred, so close that I could feel his breath on my neck.

“Not in the dark,” I squeaked.

“Go to bed.”

The light snapped back on, leaving me blinking.

I spent the night sitting on the bed with my back pressed against the headboard trying to see the whole room at one. Eventually, I fell asleep.

My alarm did not go off at six. It had been turned off. The coffee was ready but not turned on when I went down stairs. The air smelled faintly of solder. There was a post-it stuck to the coffee maker. Fine copperplate handwriting told me:

I have replaced the plumbing

I stared at it dumbly. I had replaced the plumbing to the kitchen sink and the downstairs powder room and had been washing out of the sink since I had been forced to stay home. The only other plumbing was down to the washing machine in the cellar and the upstairs bathroom. I pushed the button on the coffee maker and slowly crept upstairs.

Sure enough the stack of copper pipe waiting in the other bedroom was gone.

Well, not gone. I could see it installed through the holes in the walls. I turned on the tap to the sink and sure enough, I had water. I now had an upstairs, working bathroom with a clawfoot tub.

And no walls.

“I don’t like the idea of you watching me bathe,” I called out. Then I felt like an idiot because if whatever it was had voyeur tendencies, it could have been watching me for months. I tried all the taps and the toilet. Everything worked.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, unsure if I was talking to myself.

“You’re welcome.” It was the least creepy, most normal thing I had heard from him.

----

When I got back downstairs, there still wasn’t coffee but there was a new note:

Humans who do not sleep start to hallucinate

I crumbled it up, threw it across the room and jabbed the on switch on the coffee maker. Nothing happened. I growled as I plugged it in. The power went out.

“Oh come on! Withholding coffee is cruel and unusual punishment!”

“Sleep.” It sounded like the whole house had murmured that last bit.

I wish I could say I handled it gracefully, but I didn’t. I stomped back up to the bedroom like a petulant child.

I woke to bright sunlight streaming in through the window. The house was quiet and it felt empty for the first time in days. I had a bath and washed my hair and I felt better than I had in days too. Clean and dry and dressed, I bounced into the kitchen to try and turn on the coffee again only to see my laptop snap shut.

It was with a lot of trepidation that I opened it. I was expecting a ridiculous online purchase which is why I stared dumbly at the screen unable to process what I was seeing.

It was a CGI woman with her hands tied to something over her head being railed by a monster who was fingering her clit with one hand and fondling her breasts with the other while her belly distended in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Ugh! Dude! You can NOT watch porn on my laptop!” I shrieked as I frantically tried to close the window.

“Would you rather I watch you?” he asked calmly from somewhere to the left of me.

I breathed out a shaky breath. “OK. Let’s talk about private browser windows and how not to get a computer virus.”

When I got to the end of my tentative explanation, I asked, “Do you need … some alone time?”

There was another house shaking howling laugh.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“You need to eat.”

That brought up a whole other issue. “Do you? Eat I mean. Do you eat? What do you eat?”

“Don’t worry about me. I am not going to eat you. Unless you ask nicely.”

I blushed even further but got out a pan and a skillet meal from the fridge.

I spend the rest of the afternoon weeding the garden. I came in when it got dark, heated up my leftovers from lunch and tried to figure out what to do with myself. The nap had meant that I wasn’t tired for the first time in days.

I wondered what he would do if I watched a movie. I hunted through the cupboards and found a bag of microwave popcorn from before the virus started. Right! I thought. Bowl of popcorn, a movie, skype with a few friends. Pretend none of this was happening.

I wasn’t surprised when the lights went out. That was just a thing now. My computer was still illuminating a bubble around me and B99 was still hilarious.

I wasn’t expecting the bed to dip next to me. That once again raised the question of how to deal with him around others. I hit the mute button. “What are you doing?” I asked icily.

“Not touching you. What are you eating?”

“Human food.”

“Hmmm.”

I unmuted my computer to answer Penny’s question about how stir crazy I was going.

“12/10 on the looney toons scale,” I offered.

She just laughed.

All of the popcorn was gone.

“Ah hell.”

“What’s wrong?” Penny asked.

“All my popcorn is gone,” I grumbled. I didn’t add that I had more than half a bowl left a moment ago. Not eating me, I reminded myself.

“That sucks. Need to pause and get more?”

“I don’t have anymore.”

She just laughed, “But do you still have toilet paper and hand sanitizer?”

I chuckled, “Toilet paper, at least.”

“I should go. It’s getting late,” she said with a yawn.

“Yeah. Good night.” After Penny signed off, I just let Netflix autoplay the next episode.

“Do you need to sleep?” The whisper seemed to come from the direction of the closet but the bed was still dipped under his weight on my other side.

My heart leapt to my throat. “How many of you are there?”

“Just me,” he purred too close to my ear. I flung myself away from him and toppled out of bed. Two hands caught me.

Two other hands caught my laptop.

I stared as it was placed back on the bed a little way in front of me. The hands on my arms were cool and smooth. “What are you?”

“I am me. I have not asked your name. You will not ask mine.”

“My name is on the mail. And my credit card. You know my name,” I pointed out keeping my eyes locked on the screen, fighting the urge to look around.

“Nonetheless.”

This wasn’t going to work, but I had to try. “I would like to be alone now.”

The bed shifted as the weight was removed from the side. The black shadows that could be fingers moved from my computer. The voice said, “Good night” from the direction of the closet.

I sat frozen. “In the morning, I’m moving the bed to another room.”

“Why?”

“Because the closet is yours and it’s scary being here with you,” I admitted.

“I have never done anything to harm you.”

“You scare the shit out of me multiple times a day.”

There was a long pause before he replied, “And yet you haven’t left.”

“The city is on lock down. I can’t leave.”

“Hmm.”

I jumped as my laptop snapped shut. I fumbled in the dark trying to find it on my bed, “What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Taking this downstairs. I will not bother you tonight.”

“What-” I started to say, then snapped my mouth shut as the realization that this may be his ‘alone time’.

This time the “Good night,” came from the bedroom door.

In the morning the only thing in my browsing history was netflix. This was less comforting since I had shown him how to clear the cache. I told myself at least the keyboard wasn’t sticky.

#quarantine #oh my god they were quarantined

64 notes · View notes

britishassistant · 3 years

Text

@emyluwinter submitted:

It's very, very bad.

I probably already need to write some specific greeting, so that you understand that this is me again. I think something like " And here you are again a freelance newspaper worker writing about the life of a Yuu reporter!!" Today you will read a rather stressful and difficult passage, an article, a mini-script? I suggest you stock up on handkerchiefs.

This day was completely different. Grimm suddenly didn't show up for breakfast, and disappeared somewhere. None of the neighbors even saw him this morning. But Yuu definitely remembered that they went to bed together. How they covered themselves with a blanket, how they turned out the lights and fell asleep after a hard day's work. Yuuken's phone hadn't been answered for several hours, which was very unlike him. Also, the cameraman did not show up for the shooting of the report. No one in the office knew what was going on, and no one knew where he was. Yuu could feel everything inside him twisting into a tight knot of tension and despair. It seemed less and less like it was just a coincidence.

- Please let it be a misunderstanding. - Yuu consoled himself with these thoughts. But their intuition literally screamed that things were very bad. Everything goes wrong.

Even the villains seem to have decided to take a sudden day off for villainy. For a couple of hours, Yuu had been trying to call Yuuken or find Grimm. But there were no traces, no notes about the abduction. All his nerves were taut as strings. Almost choking, Yuu looks in horror at the black raven feather on his desk. This is Crowley's doing. It's a lousy case scenario. Things are bad, very bad. But what did he want from them? Why suddenly now?No matter how many questions were asked in Yuu's mind, there was no answer. A few hours later, Yuu found himself in the heart of the lair of the terrible leader of the villainous league of Crowley. Their anger was boundless and Yuu literally wanted to break the neck of this restless crow, which does not want to leave him alone. - what do you want, old crow? They decided to ask the question right away and not waste time. Fearing that it will be disastrously small to provide assistance. - Oh, Yuu, I'm so glad you decided to join me tonight. Would you like some tea? - Crowley sat quietly in his large, massive, and gaudy-looking throne chair. While they themselves were sitting on a simple chair. It was as if he was doing everything he could to show how helpless and small Yuu was compared to him. - If by join, you mean that your thugs kidnapped me and dragged me here by force, almost trashing my apartment and scaring the entire neighborhood. Wouldn't you... go fuck yourself?! Why did you suddenly think to kidnap me?what do you need?!

Yuu well understood that now is not the best idea to give vent to their anger and irritation. But they were on edge all day and the stress was stronger than usual. It had all been piling up like a snowball... for so long and so painfully. - Hush, hush, baby bird, I don't think you're in a position to let your emotions run wild right now. But I'm so kind that I'd rather not notice this little outburst of anger - Crowley indifferently took a sip of amazingly expensive tea from an equally expensive cup and saucer. - What do you want? - Yuu literally gritted his teeth to get to the bottom of it.One part of them was thinking about escape options, the other was praying that nothing happened to Yuuken and Grimm and they were kidnapped by another villain from the seven, waiting for either the Prefect or the reporter to come. They may be villains. But they are not so stupid as to harm the people dear to Yuu. They might as well have tried to kidnap Divus Cruel, but they would have been brainless in the next few hours, even if they had been very lucky not to be tortured half to death by his experiments.

- I'm glad you asked! You see I am so gracious that I will tell you my beautiful plan. As you recall, you are my biological heir. This is a very responsible and serious position in which I will need to make sure that after me there will be a leader who may even surpass me. It would be such a wonderful arrangement of affairs! Yuu wanted to punch that old crow even more. Crowley continued. - And as you must understand by now, all my previous persuasions have failed. As well as the idea that you went through adversity at birth. Yuu didn't like what he was talking about with them. - That's why!For the past few months, I've patiently let you enjoy the life you're used to. Make friends and family, get a job that you like. Even get a strange pet. And I had an amazing idea!If you couldn't get through the hardships when you were still a child, then I can easily arrange it now to break you the way I need to! Crowley chuckled smugly. Meanwhile, Yuu had the feeling that he was watching some kind of nightmare that they couldn't wake up from. - break me...what..What are you talking about? - Yuu could barely whisper their question. A chill swept through his body as quickly as if they had fallen under one of Charon's freezing traps.

But it wasn't ice. This was their terror with fear. Crowley puts his hands together and leans on his desk. - Do I sound so vague to you? Oh, you seem so happy that I'm giving you this opportunity to enjoy your peaceful days as a civilian. But I decided that it was time to stop with these children's games. Crowley presses a button on the remote control and a screen with security cameras turns on behind him. Yuu's stomach clenched in shock and horror. They screamed abruptly getting up from the chair and holding their hands over their mouths in fear, they looked at the bound Yuken and Grim, worse, Crowley did not stop.... in another screen were...their parents. They were also abducted and tied up.

Crowley went on with his plan.

- All I had to do was take everything you hold dear and brutally eliminate it in front of your eyes. As long as you're a weak cub, you can't stop it.

No wonder they talked about Crowley's monstrous reputation, Yuu almost choked on their own tears and despair.

- no...No, don't touch them!!They have nothing to do with it!! - Yuu pleaded, literally burning the old crow with his eyes.

- I told you I didn't want your money, your position, and I certainly don't want to be your heir!"!You already have 7 candidates choose one of them, why do you keep interfering and threatening me to kill my loved ones?!? - Because I'm kind enough to give you a little choice."

The Yuus recoiled from him. Again, this dirty manipulation. He's going to brainwash them, that's for sure.

- The choice is cub. You stay and I teach you as my heir, how to manage my affairs and the craft of villainy. Or ...

Yuu suppresses a ragged sigh. They didn't even notice the tears running down their cheeks and their shoulders shaking.

Crowley truly reveled in the sight and the sense of his own superiority.

- I will kill these people slowly and painfully until you learn everything, and you will see every day how your mistakes cause pain and suffering to your loved ones.

It was as if a vacuum had appeared in Yuu's head. Either way, Crowley gave them no choice. He had planned it all from the beginning.

- where...Where's the guarantee that if I stay, you won't kill them at the same time?where is the proof that they are not dead? Crowley laughed merrily, and Yuu felt helpless and weak for the first time in his life. Things are too bad, Yuu can't think of a single option for saving everyone, including myself.

- Great question!!You see, if you voluntarily stay, they guarantee me that you will not try to escape in the future and that you will be a diligent student.

Yuu thought for a second that Crowley had put an invisible noose around his neck and was pulling it tighter and tighter. Like a puppet master's collar or strings.

- If you try to escape and somehow find them in my labyrinth lair. - Crowley pressed another button on his remote control Yuu looked at the other wall and saw a reflection of himself. Terrified, their cheeks glistening with tears, as if they were lost and broken. Just like Crowley wanted.

The leader of the League of Villains gets up from his desk and takes Yuu by the shoulders and turns their face to the camera.

- Your beloved Dair Crowley and our charming reporter Yuu are on the air. Yuu stubbornly refused to look at the camera and was riveted by the eyes of his loved ones. Even through their tears, they could see that they were still fine. Yuuken played with Grim in words to pass the time. I don't think Grimm did very well, but he tried.

And his parents...

Yuu sobbed softly and barely smiled. Their father was humming a tune inaudible to their ears and kicking out a rhythm with his feet. And their mother, their kind, sweet mother, sang with him.

They were afraid, they did not know what they would do to them and whether they would live. But they sang.

Crowley was talking and talking to the camera, but they weren't listening. Yuu is too tired to be strong, too tired to be in the midst of these evil-hero fights, to be involved in these conflicts. They just wanted to live the peaceful life of a citizen, a friendly neighbor. Instead of being in their worst nightmare right now, which Yuu didn't know how to get out of.

Crowley dug his sharp nails into Yuu's cheeks very painfully,forcing them to forcibly turn their heads towards him and the camera.

- Do as I say. - Crowley whispered menacingly, as if about to kill him.

The Yuu felt that they were so brittle and broken that if Crowley pressed any more, their bones would crack just like they are now. - So my dear viewers, I will be so kind as to answer your main question!!Your favorite reporter and friendly neighbor has a unique opportunity. Stay with me as a hostage voluntarily and save your family and friends, or I'll have to persuade them with my own words ... - Crowley's eyes darkened and Yuu for the first time was afraid for the loved ones because Crowley wasn't always such a jerk.

- in kind and gracious ways. How about holding the whole city hostage? Ah probably you are now enveloped in a beautiful fear of not knowing that if the Yuu refuse, I will kill every civilian-Crowley specifically emphasized this point.

"Every single one of them, one by one, until the Yuu eventually agree. Ask why I need it?You see, I have some plans for this naughty child..

Yuu groaned softly as Crowley's other hand, with its sharp fingers, gripped his forearm very painfully, digging its nails through his clothes into the skin and scratching it.

- a monster.. - Yuu whispered softly, no longer holding back his tears. They were literally breaking down by the second. On the other side of the screen, the Leviathan in his lair dropped all the papers from his hands and turned pale with the realization of the whole situation. Crowley decided to go the route of violence if he was tired of Yuu's refusals. And the worst scenario he could have imagined came true..

- Err?!?Azul!!The shrimp is crying!I don't like it!! Floyd said angrily, not looking up from the screen.

- What are we going to do? - Jade looked at his boss expectantly. Azul sat down unsteadily on the arm of his chair.

- Crowley literally says to all the villains do not interfere or I will kill him.. - Azul replied softly, feeling a cold sweat break out on his skin... None of the villains knew what to do or what to do. But everyone swore to themselves that they would never bring Yuu to such tears. To such a terrible state... I will end my passage here. I want to hear your impressions, thoughts, and ideas!!Open to everything!

It's so great to hear that you like what I write!

...well.

Well.

You were right about needing tissues!! Holy hell, this is serious End Game level work!! This is definitely building up to a dramatic conclusion!!

Crowley seems to hold all the cards here! He’s got Yuu’s family and friends (and who he thinks is the Prefect’s secret identity) hostage so that the reporter can’t fight back or be saved, and he’s got Yuu so the supervillains can’t make a move unless they want Yuu’s death on their heads. It seems like all hope is lost...

...Though I notice Crowley hasn’t exactly factored in what a certain Uncle and other honorary family members on the board of the League, or the three mysterious old men who own Yuu’s apartment will have to say about this...

Or the fact that the Prefect may not be as contained as he thinks...

131 notes · View notes

duskandstarlight · 3 years

Text

Embers & Light (Chapter 9, Cassian POV)

Notes: I had a lovely anon this morning ask for a POV from Cassian’s POV in E&L when he rubbed salve onto Nesta’s back. So, here you go, folks. As usual, apologies for any typos etc etc.

And for those needing a reminder of what happened in chapter 9, you can read it here.

Waiting outside of Nesta’s bedroom door was torture. Not just because Cassian would soon be touching Nesta’s bare skin, but because he knew she was trying to relinquish control by making him wait. And Cassian had been waiting for a long time now. Much longer than was necessary for Nesta to remove her nightgown and wrap herself in a towel.

Cassian bit back the snarl that wanted to emit itself from his throat, because rising to the deliberate wait would give Nesta too much satisfaction. And this was the game they played; continually trying to get one up on the other, riling and prodding and poking until they hissed and snarled and flames sparked between them.

So, Cassian waited patiently. He scented the chamomile salve wafting under the door and—Nesta. More intense than before. Jasmine and vanilla and her. Intoxicating and fiery and steely at the same time, as if she were forged from something entirely different from anyone else in the world.

It was addictive and exhilarating. It woke Cassian up, as if he had only been slumbering before. Nearly five hundred and fifty years of floating through life until Nesta Archeron came along and disrupted the course of things, like a knife thrust through the heart.

Footsteps sounded across the carpet and Cassian straightened, before he decided that a relaxed posture against the doorframe would irritate her more. He only just had time to arrange his expression into one of bored disinterest before the door opened.

Cassian cocked a lazy eyebrow as if to ask what took so long, but Nesta only turned immediately on her heel. He trailed after her into the cold room, trying not to stare at the creamy expanse of her back that peaked beneath her loose golden brown hair—the wings of her shoulder blades and the three freckles which dotted down the far too prominent nodules of her spine where they met her neck.

When Nesta turned back to face him, her pewter eyes were brimming with challenge, daring Cassian to comment on her lack of clothing. But he only twirled a finger—a silent order.

For a moment, Cassian thought she’d deny him, but then she obeyed—for once.

“All over?” he asked, making his voice deliberately practical rather than playful.

Slowly, Nesta dipped her chin. A long pause followed, as if she had forgotten that she had to relinquish the towel. But Cassian did not taunt her. Remained silent and patient, until she seemed to realise it for herself.

When she pulled the towel around to her front, that scent intensified. And when Nesta pulled her hair around her shoulder to expose her neck, Cassian’s nostrils flared.

Fucking hell, sometimes Cassian wondered how he controlled himself around her. Even his blood thrummed beneath his skin, pushing towards her, to the name that beat and chanted on the wind and in the back of his mind, always: Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.

His eyes snagged on that column of skin, and the temptation to bow his head and sink his teeth into her flesh was suddenly so overwhelming that Cassian almost took a step backwards.

But then a glimmer of apprehension fluttered down the bond and that urge vanished, as if it had never existed at all.

“Let me,” Cassian murmured, stepping towards Nesta so he could help to move the remaining tendrils of hair that tumbled down her back over her shoulder.

He ignored the electric sparks that shot through him as he swept his calloused fingers over her bare skin. And when that unblemished skin pebbled under his touch, Cassian realised just how freezing the room was—he wouldn’t have been surprised if his breath misted in front of him.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “I'll be quick, I know it's cold.”

“Just get it over with,” Nesta replied. Beneath his hands, her body was ramrod straight—so preternaturally still it was unnatural even to Fae.

So, Cassian tried his best to set Nesta at ease as he rubbed the salve between his palms, warming it before he dared touch it to her skin. “This stuff is good,” he said conversationally. “I use it a lot. I know humans usually have the worst muscle pain on their second and third day, but Fae bodies recover more quickly. You’ll be sore tomorrow, but it shouldn't last much longer than that.”

Beneath his hands, he felt every inch of her skeleton. Nesta’s body was so thin it felt as if her skin was like paper—as if the bone might pierce through if his touch was too firm.

The knowledge made his stomach clench so fiercely he wanted to smash his fist into the wall. He had let this happen. He had let—

“Good,” Nesta clipped in response, but the sound was coarse, pushed through gritted teeth as his hands skated over what he had guessed earlier to be a sore spot between her shoulder blades.

“You need to start eating right, too,” Cassian dared to say, as his hands traversed down her lower back. He wasn’t sure where the confidence came to comment on her weight, not after she had spat at him when he had pleaded for her to eat at breakfast the other day. “And lots to gain back the weight. I can tell—”

Hot, sharp anger stabbed through him so fiercely that suddenly Cassian couldn’t breathe. Because across the lower curve of Nesta’s back was four silvery scars—claw marks made by ragged nails that raked their way underneath the nightgown pooled at her hips.

The air between them shuddered.

Free of siphons, Cassian’s Killing Power was untamed and unchecked. And that trembling… that was what happened when Cassian was furious enough for his magic to tumble out of him before he could stifle it.

He could not remember the last time it had happened. Not for four hundred years, at least.

“How old is that scar?”

His words were low and fucking dangerous, he knew that. His hands had stilled on her skin, but as he spoke, his left hand moved on instinct rather than logic.

Nesta stilled when he brushed his fingers over what must have been deep gauges. Gently, he traced the path of each cruel line—

“What scar?”

Cassian paused at the thick quality to Nesta’s voice, as if she had wrangled the words out of her throat lest they become lodged there.

That fury spiked again and the windows rattled. “Nesta, is that scar new or is it from that human?”

The way he spoke was too forceful and too commanding. He knew that before the mist started to spark from her fingertips. Before his magic began to roar in his veins at the sight of her power.

The way in which Nesta whirled on the spot was so fast that Cassian thought he’d blinked and missed it. “You said you would do this quickly.”

Despite the hiss, Nesta could not conceal the vulnerability that flickered in her eyes. It was that rare glimpse into that normally closed off tunnel that allowed Cassian’s roiling anger to still for long enough for rationality to kick in.

Slowly, Cassian loosed a long breath and dragged the back of his hand over his forehead in an attempt to smooth away his twisted expression. “I’m sorry Nesta, ok? Just… let me do this. Turn around.”

Those mercury eyes stared him down but Cassian did not balk. Instead, he scoured that beautiful, steely face. Never had Cassian witnessed Nesta smile, but even without it she was perfection. The Cauldron could not have Made someone more stunning and deadly. Even as a human, Nesta had been more breathtaking than any Fae Cassian had ever set his eyes on—would ever set his eyes on.

Nesta must have found something in Cassian’s expression, because slowly—with a final, deathly glare—she turned her back to him.

It was a sign of trust and one Cassian did not take lightly.

Scooping up some more salve, Cassian silently continued his task, gliding his hands over those taut, sore muscles. When he reached those scars again, his hands ghosted over them in a way that was too tender. The skin was ridged and Cassian dared to run a a calloused thumb over the raised bumps.

To his surprise, Nesta did not bat him away or set him alight.

“I’ll kill him for you, if that’s what you want,” he murmured darkly.

That haughty chin tilted upwards. “Why should I let you? It would take the joy out of knowing I can do it myself whenever the mood strikes.”

A low laugh skittered out of him. “Whilst that is a good point, the offer still stands. Or perhaps I can come with you, when you do decide to pay him a visit."

Screwing the lid back on the salve, Cassian placed it on the dresser, averting his eyes as Nesta quickly pulled her nightgown back up. Her skin was covered in goosebumps from being exposed to the cold air, and Cassian glanced towards the open, unlit hearth stacked neatly with pine logs. “I’ll get a log burner installed for your room this week.”

Nesta’s head snapped to look at him. She had been staring longingly at the heaps of blanket on her bed.

It was obvious she was desperate for him to leave.

“I —“ she started, but then she broke off. For a moment, silence fell, and Cassian knew she did not know how to concede—to say thank you.

So, he shot her a crooked grin and said, “I’ll see you bright and early for round two. Don’t be late.”

Tags: @arinbelle @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @iammissstark @lovelynesta @melphss @nestalytical @darkshadowqueensrule @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @grouchycritic7794 @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @princessconsuela02 @lavendergoomsltd @little-diyosa @princessofmerchants-reads @jeakat @sjm-things @imwritingthesewords @nestable @inejbrekkxr @silvernesta @inyourmindeye @amelie775 @iwastoowildinthe70s @helen-the-weirdo @pizzaneverdisappoints @wishfulimaginings @trash-for-nessian @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @hatemecozuaintme

#embersandlightfic #acotarfanfiction #nessianfic #nessian #nesta x cassian #nestaarcheron #cassian #acosf #acofas #acomaf #acowar

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zenonaa · 3 years

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'Like the rest of the group, he also wondered what could have driven out such a grin from him, out in the open like that. Worse, it could have not been a ‘what’, but a ‘who’. He had prided himself on never letting anyone slip under his skin, never letting anyone become close to him. Learning to rely on others, and let others rely on him, was one thing. This felt more personal, like a kick to the stomach.'

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fukawa Touko/Togami Byakuya Characters: Fukawa Touko, Togami Byakuya, Naegi Makoto, Naegi Komaru, Kirigiri Kyouko, Asahina Aoi, Hagakure Yasuhiro Additional Tags: TogaFuka Week 2021 Summary: Togami and the others stumble across a photograph of him smiling, but he can't remember the context so the others try to figure out what happened for him to do that.

Comments: owo what's this? togafuka week day 1: happiness! i haven't actually written something for all the days but this is one of the things that i did manage to squeeze out.

💗 Please like, share and comment if you enjoyed it! 💗

***

Cleaning up Hope’s Peak wasn’t an afternoon affair. Beyond the old school building that Byakuya knew too intimately, debris clogged hallways, trash lay scattered throughout the campus like weeds and the air smelled of rust and blood. The group of seven started with the art building on the east side of campus. For the first few hours, Yasuhiro hummed as he hauled cardboard boxes, Komaru still had the patience to prepare and bring lemonade, and Aoi’s sunshine voice beamed between walls as she shared a story about the time her family held a second-hand sale in their backyard.

By the end of the day, however, their lively chatter had dimmed with the sky. Inside remained as bright thanks to Byakuya and Yasuhiro reconnecting the electricity, but darkening windows reminded them of the aches in their limbs, the ebbing flames behind their eyes. Byakuya swept his gaze across what used to be a theatre but was currently a sorting room filled with boxes instead of chairs. Makoto, Touko, Komaru and Yasuhiro were sitting together on boxes, while Kyouko and Aoi had just walked in with a dirty wheelbarrow.

“We should adjourn until the morning,” Byakuya announced. He reached a hand toward his glasses, intending to push them up, but stopped himself when he remembered the grime clinging to his palms. Not wanting to dirty his glasses, he lowered his hand.

The Byakuya of the past would have deemed this sort of manual labour beneath him, yet he had willingly spent most of that day working alongside his companions. His friends. How things changed.

“There is so much stuff,” said Aoi, who by now had parked the wheelbarrow and was slouched against it. She wiped her vest against her forehead.

“And not a lot of it is useful,” added Kyouko, next to Aoi. Yasuhiro straightened up.

“Nonsense. All we need to do is spruce them up, and they’ll be ready to go on sale.” He walked over to a broken lamp, its shade bitten and discoloured, as dirty as the floor it lay on. “Like this lamp. Fix this up, and it’ll be as good as new. Then all we need is a good pitch and b’am,” he punched his palm, “sold.”

“You can’t do that with everything here,” said Komaru. He put his hands onto his hips.

“Not with that attitude! But with the right mindset, you could sell anything here, guaranteed.”

Yasuhiro rubbed his finger against his nose, grinning like a fool. Some things changed, but others stayed remarkably the same. Byakuya’s gaze drifted over to Touko, who was scowling at Yasuhiro. Touko was both different and the same. Different, because she stood firm where she used to cower, and she let others into her world where she used to cloak herself in darkness.

And same because while like Byakuya, she had learned to allow herself to rely on friends and for friends to rely on her, she was still head over heels in love with him.

She pointed at a black bag containing hunks of metal. “What sales pitch do you have for this?”

“Easy! All you have to do is make the contents into sculptures,” replied Yasuhiro. “Their only purpose is to be admired, ‘right? Add a backstory to go with them and boom, sold. You can do that to practically anything even if it’s trash.”

“No way,” said Aoi.

“Want to bet?”

The group roused to accept his challenge. Makoto found a used wipe container, and Yasuhiro clicked his fingers and said to fill it with plastic bags, turning it into a dispenser that was portable and could fit easily into a car drawer. Aoi presented him with pizza boxes, at which Yasuhiro laughed and demanded more so they could be decked in wrapping paper and transformed into a drawer unit. When Komaru found a metal pipe, Yasuhiro claimed it needed a clean and spray paint and it could sit contentedly on a shelf.

Yasuhiro even sucked Byakuya and Touko into the game. The cork in Byakuya’s hand changed into a keychain, and Yasuhiro’s voice fashioned an old juice carton into a recyclable purse ideal for coins and trips to the arcade. Each item that the others found, Yasuhiro repurposed it into something else.

“There has to be something you can’t reuse,” Komaru insisted. She peeled the lid open on a cardboard box and lifted out a hardback red book from inside it. “What about these photos? Who’d want to have pictures of strangers?”

“Photos?” said Kyouko, intrigued.

“Yeah, there are a whole load of albums in here. I went through a few earlier but didn’t recognise anyone, so I forgot about them.”

Touko rolled her eyes. “Typical...”

Kyouko and Aoi each took out an album. The box seemed to contain several of them, their covers glazed in dust and cobwebs.

“Gekkogahara-san is in this one,” said Kyouko within a few seconds of skimming.

By now, the rest of the group had gravitated over. Inside the album that Kyouko was holding, the photographs were contained in plastic flaps that overlapped so only the one on top could be seen unless it was flicked up, revealing the photograph beneath. In the photograph currently on display, Miaya Gekkogahara was sitting next to a pale guy with dark hair and dark shadows under his eyes, who Byakuya recognised as Yasuke Matsuda. They appeared to be seated at a computer desk, their heads turned toward the photographer.

“It’s really her,” murmured Makoto. “And not a robot masquerading as her.”

“Do you think these are all photos of her class?” asked Yasuhiro as he and the others picked up their own photo albums to browse.

“If that’s true, then everyone in these are deceased,” said Touko.

Aoi winced. “When you phrase it like that, this feels kind of morbid.”

Makoto flipped through a few flaps in the album in his hands. Then his creased forehead exploded as his eyebrows shot up. “This album contains our class!”

Everyone crowded around him. The photograph showed a pink room with a television screen hanging on the wall. Blurred writing glowed on it that Byakuya struggled to decipher. In front of it, Couch seats were positioned around three sides of a table, and on the seats sat members of their class. The only classmate not in the photograph was Sakura.

“Sakura-chan must have been taking the photograph,” said Aoi. “No way would our class exclude her.”

Holding the album in one hand, Makoto scratched his head with his other.

“I vaguely recall this,” he said. “Kuwata-kun... yes, I think it was him... booked a karaoke room, and the whole class packed in. All of us sang at least once.”

While Future Foundation had aided them in recovering from the memory loss inflicted by Junko, some memories were stronger than others. For Byakuya, he could recall plenty of events, but none came with any emotion attached. It was as though he was reading about them in a newspaper afterwards.

“Byakuya-sama graced us with his voice,” Touko piped up. The ends of her lips curled upward as she squeezed her hands together. “I r-remember... he made the air taste like chocolate syrup... his words spread a chill across my skin... ah...”

Byakuya remembered performing a single song, but he hated singing, and he couldn’t remember what compelled him to accept a microphone.

“Enoshima tried to steal such a precious memory from us.” Aoi rubbed the heel of her hand against her eye. “Sakura-chan sang a beautiful song about friendship. Her voice washed over the room like the ocean.”

Kyouko placed a hand onto Aoi’s shoulder. Komaru flicked through the other photographs in the album. Byakuya didn’t pay Komaru any more mind, frowning at Touko as she seemed to relive the experience of him singing. Her recollection appeared much more intimate than his own. Part of him wanted to ask her for more details. Another part was repulsed.

Komaru gasped.

“What is it?” asked Makoto as they all focused on the album again. The photograph that had captured her attention depicted Byakuya. Nothing extraordinary appeared to be in the photograph - he was sitting on a bench at an angle, not facing the camera.

Yet the others stared with their mouths agape.

“I have never seen Togami-chi smile like that,” said Yasuhiro.

Byakuya inspected the photograph closer. Though it had been taken at a distance - probably so he wouldn’t realise someone was taking a photograph of him - there was a definite smile gracing his lips. It wasn’t a smirk, or a cruel grin, or the faint curve he sometimes showed around his friends, but a smile showing teeth, one that didn’t just meet his eyes, but made his gaze, no, his face glow.

What he was looking at, however, was unclear. It was now that Byakuya realised the photograph had been torn, and the section that held the object of his attention wasn’t in the album.

“It must have been something amazing to have made him smile back then,” said Yasuhiro.

They all turned to Byakuya, who pursed his lips.

“Putting aside whether I would tell you if I knew, I don’t actually recall when this took place,” he said.

“Maybe we could help jog your memory?” Aoi suggested. “When I want to remember something, I write it on my palm three times.”

“That won’t help,” said Touko. “You can only do that while you still remember the thing.” Her teeth gritted. “Argh... if only I knew what could have elicited such a pure smile from Byakuya-sama...!”

She dragged her fingers down her face.

“It’s not a big deal,” said Byakuya. While the others burned with curiosity, discomfort stewed in his gut like when he had watched Touko reminisce about the karaoke session.

Like the rest of the group, he also wondered what could have driven out such a grin from him, out in the open like that. Worse, it could have not been a ‘what’, but a ‘who’. He had prided himself on never letting anyone slip under his skin, never letting anyone become close to him. Learning to rely on others, and let others rely on him, was one thing. This felt more personal, like a kick to the stomach.

“There has to be some way to reawaken the memory,” said Komaru, her tone light without the burden of his thoughts. She turned to Kyouko. “You must know a way.”

“Must I?” Kyouko’s eyebrows rose.

“Because you’re from a detective family,” said Aoi, nodding.

“Actually...” Komaru’s smile cringed on her face. “I um... just assume Kyouko-chan knows everything.”

“There are a few techniques we can try,” said Kyouko, faintly amused. “Perhaps if we pinpoint when and where exactly the photograph took place, that may stir something in Togami-kun’s brain.”

Other than Byakuya, no one else was in the frame. A briefcase leaned against a bench leg and a pile of papers rested on his lap. Annoyingly, he couldn’t see any writing that may have been on the papers. In the photograph, he wasn’t looking at them. He was focused on the nothingness where the other half of the photograph should have been.

“That has to be the main plaza,” said Aoi. “I recognise the benches. Sakura-chan and I finished our morning runs there. Then we would sit down and drink some water. We never saw Togami there though.”

“Yeah. That looks like the fountain at the back,” added Makoto.

Kyouko stroked her chin. “The sliver of sky in the background appears rather pale, and judging by the colour of the leaves, it’s approximately autumn.”

“Togami-chi never missed a lesson, so it had to be late-afternoon at the latest, ‘right?” said Yasuhiro.

“Unless it was the weekend,” Makoto pointed out, prompting Yasuhiro to exhale frustratedly through his teeth. The thoughtful expression on Kyouko’s face, however, didn’t waver.

“We can deduce whether he had lessons on that day,” said Kyouko.

“How?” asked Aoi.

Byakuya already knew. “I’m not in uniform.”

“Indeed,” said Kyouko with a bob of her head. “So unless you changed into another outfit after your lessons, this scene transpired at the weekend.”

“Does that ring any bells for you?” Komaru asked Byakuya, clasping her hands together, eyes wide with optimism. “Visiting the plaza on the weekend, and catching sight of something that brings joy to your face...?”

His jaw clenched. All of them were staring at him. They had a campus as large as four high schools to clear and they had only made a dent so far, but the arduous task appeared to have been pushed aside in favour of probing his brain for some memory. Oh, how they tried his patience at times.

“I can’t say it brings anything to mind, though it is unusual for me to be there,” he said in a level tone. “Usually, during the weekend, I would be indoors, either in my room or in the library.”

Certainly not at the plaza. Certainly not with a brazen smile chipped into his face.

“I think we’ve followed the photograph’s lead as far as it can go,” said Yasuhiro. “Now we must turn to guesswork. If we bounce ideas off each other, that might help Togami-chi remember. Perhaps you had come from a meeting, where you struck a billion dollar deal?”

“Or you emerged from the cafeteria after they served some tasty donuts?” Aoi chimed in.

Byakuya’s frown sank in deeper.

“Or you finished a really good manga?” said Komaru.

“Or listened to a good song?” added Makoto.

Yasuhiro clicked his fingers. “I once read that listening to music is a good way to stir up memories. If we find a piece with the right mood, Togami-chi ought to remember the scene!”

“What sort of mood do you guys reckon we should play?” asked Komaru as she shoved her hand into her coat.

“Something cheerful,” said Aoi.

Komaru retrieved her phone from her pocket and tapped on her screen. A few seconds later, a series of beeps sang out of her phone, playing over the sound of clapping and a fast drumbeat. She side-stepped back and forth to the rhythm, and Byakuya lasted until the first few lines of Swedish auto tuned singing.

“Turn that off,” snapped Byakuya. “It’s not helping me think. It’s giving me a headache instead.”

With a pout, Komaru switched it off.

“Perhaps we should visit the location,” said Kyouko.

Touko’s brow creased. “Won’t it be dark?”

“Don’t worry, Touko-chan, our phones can provide you with light,” Komaru assured her, patting Touko on the shoulder.

They set off, departing from the old theatre and winding through corridors toward the plaza. Byakuya stayed silent, lagging behind most of the others slightly. Only Touko seemed to take note of this, and though she didn’t speak to him, she hovered further back than him, and he could feel her eyes on the back of his neck like flies crawling against his skin.

As they drew closer, he concluded that they wished so desperately to discover the source of his smile because they planned to use it against him. Perhaps they intended to humiliate him, or blackmail or manipulate him. But they were his friends, weren’t they? Surely they didn’t plan on using what they learned against him?

Yet... if that wasn’t the case, then why?

The plaza was no longer the picturesque location it once was. It couldn’t have been in a brochure promoting the academy, like the photograph in the album. Weeds grew between upturned slabs, gnarled fingers reaching toward the sky. Nearby, the rubble corpse of the fountain didn’t spout water, dry as sun bleached bone. They all stood silently for a while, observing their surroundings. There were no benches to sit on.

“It sure has changed a lot,” said Yasuhiro.

“It’ll do. Hagakure, bend over on all fours.” Aoi pointed at her feet. “You will play the part of the bench.”

Yasuhiro balked. “Why me? You’re stronger.”

Her stare didn’t relent. He managed a few more seconds before he dropped to his knees and planted his hands in front of himself. Once he was in position, Aoi turned to Byakuya expectantly.

“I am not sitting on him,” said Byakuya flatly.

“Please, Togami-san!” Komaru pleaded, shaking her phone in both hands. Light from the screen danced across her face and when her hands stilled, so did the glow. It seeped into her skin, accentuating the crinkle between her eyebrows and the stare from her eyes that pulled, pulled, pulled at Byakuya until he snapped.

“Why are you all making a big deal of this?” Byakuya asked not only Komaru, but all of them. He flung up a hand. “There is a photograph of me smiling. That’s it. It concerns me that you’re so obsessed with finding out what caused me to smile.”

His question clenched them in its jaws, burning the air with acid. He waited for one of them to answer. For Touko to do more than fidget, and Komaru to stop chewing her lip. Finally, the pressure squeezed out a response from Makoto.

“You’re our friend,” said Makoto. “You’re usually so serious, and you rarely ever seem happy. We thought if we could find out what made you that happy back then...”

“... we could bring that happiness back to you now,” finished Touko, curling her fingers into her palms. Byakuya tensed.

That explanation had never occurred to him. For most of his life, he had been forced to be on the defensive, to anticipate betrayals and attacks from anyone. Then again, for most of his life, he hadn’t been acquainted with people like this. Friends. He grimaced, staring at Touko for several long seconds before averting his gaze and pushing up his glasses.

“Nuisances...” But he seated himself on Yasuhiro’s back, setting his feet firmly on the ground.

Byakuya tried to imagine the sky was a pool of water, not ink, and that he was on a bench, and that water streamed from a fountain behind him. However, the air remained as dry and dark as his mouth, and no matter how often his mind mended the slabs of the plaza, they would crack and decay within moments.

“Anything?” said Touko, wringing her hands.

He folded his arms over his chest.

“No,” said Byakuya. A collective sigh spread, though Makoto was soon grinning again.

“I guess we’ll have to keep trying to make you happy.”

Byakuya clicked his tongue, but his lips twitched outward and he quickly hid it behind his hand. Nuisances.

“Does this mean you can stand up now?” Yasuhiro asked from beneath Byakuya.

Aoi stretched her arms upward, arching her back, and yawned. “We ought to call it a day. It’s getting late.”

While the others headed toward the dormitory building that they were currently living in. Byakuya stayed where he was. Their footsteps faded, the glow of their phones shrinking into five pinpricks of light before disappearing completely. Despite his friends’ efforts, they had failed to uncover the story of the photograph. Now that he knew their motives hadn’t been nefarious, he could appreciate their attempts and found himself wondering what had happened all those years ago.

“It’s a shame we don’t know what made you so happy back then,” said Touko next to him, echoing his thoughts. She hadn’t retired for the night with the others. He glanced at her, meeting her gaze. Her phone shone a light against her wistful expression.

“I suppose so,” he said in a casual tone.

“With many of my memories, I don’t recall exact details, but they evoke certain feelings.”

His eyebrows rose a fraction in interest. “Oh?”

“Yes. For example, standing here... is stirring some emotion in me. I think I have a memory associated with this place too.”

Byakuya turned his whole body to face her.

“What emotion?” he asked.

She didn’t answer right away, as if letting the thought sit on her tongue, tasting it.

“Warmth,” she said. “Like the warmth I feel when I’m with you. Perhaps I will never remember what happened to give me that feeling. B-But... I have many other precious memories... and I can work on creating more with you, Byakuya-sama.”

Her lips twisted into a smile. Meanwhile, his insides twisted, much like they did whenever she referred to him in a romantic manner. He had been experiencing the sensation more frequently around her lately. Sometimes, all she had to do was meet his gaze or brush against him, and his stomach would coil like she had pressed her lips against his.

“Byakuya-sama?” Touko’s voice broke into his thoughts. “A-Are you feeling all right?”

He did not want to think what about his face had made her ask that all of a sudden.

“I’m fine,” he said, and he adjusted his glasses. “We’ve dawdled here for long enough. Let’s return to the dormitories.”

“Together?” blurted Touko. Without a word, Byakuya strode away, and she darted after him, keeping abreast. “Are you going straight to sleep when you arrive back?”

His eyes stayed forward.

“No. I will have some tea and read first,” he replied.

“What do you plan on reading?”

“Out by Natsuo Kirino,” he said. Her head jerked back.

“I r-recently finished that!”

“I know. After seeing you reading it, I thought I would give it a try. I was more interested when I learned that it’s not a romance, but a crime novel.”

“I specialise in romance, but I read for a variety of genres,” she said. “I can recommend some more books i-if you want. Have you read The Inugami Clan? You may find the start slow, but I think you will enjoy the cast and the premise...”

He listened as they walked back together. The more she spoke, the more passionate she became, and he couldn’t help looking at her as she lit up, waving her arms around.

A smile poked at the corners of his lips, and he finally felt a sense of déjà vu.

#togafuka #togafukaweek #touko fukawa #byakuya togami #junko enoshima #dr3 #komaru naegi #makoto naegi #kyouko kirigiri #yasuhiro hagakure #aoi asahina #fanfiction #one shot

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prose-for-hire · 3 years

Text

Love, Hate, Love: Part three

Part One // Part Two

Pairing: Spike x fem!vamp!reader

Request: Spike and the reader disliked each other until they recall their shared past. They finally acknowledge it and their feelings begin to spill - but is it too late? This is the final part !!

Originally requested by: @therapieliteratur

Warning: Alcohol consumption. Implied sex. Very dodgy/amateur-ish inserted poetry lol

A/N: I don’t have anything for Valentine’s this year, so this will have to do !! Happy Valentine’s Day loves 💖🖤

The evening swept around him, the wind hissing mocking taunts as he ran from the broken promise of your love.

As William sobbed, he stumbled into the field that harboured that oak tree. Once a solace, now a marker of his loss. A gravestone to your love.

His heart was shattered and he made a decision, one that would mean you would never see him again.

In that moment, you were facing your own battle. You still lived with your parents. They did not permit you to leave that afternoon. You panicked, explaining yourself and the reason you were so desperate to go. Which just made it worse.

“Father, please!” You screamed, tears streaming hot and salted, “Please understand, William is a good man. Of a good family”

“Other arrangements have been made, child” He warned, not explaining what these were. You weren’t expected to know or comprehend.

“I love him!” You shouted. The house stopped still. Nobody moved. You were supposed to be seen, not heard. Respect your mother and father’s will. Your mother cried and begged, trying to still you from leaving.

But you managed it, running all the way to the chapel, pleading solace with the vicar. Only to find that your lovers heart was shattered and broken on the floor.

It sounded like broken glass under your feet as your tear-stained wedding gown clung to you.

You had returned from the school a week ago and fitfully rested since. You had offered your hand to help Spike up. He hadn’t taken it, but he hesitated before he told you to go away. The bite in his voice had gone. Neither of you wished to use such harsh tones anymore.

You were back in your home again. Another monotonous fight finished. They all seemed the same. You sighed, shaking your bra to remove the dust from your cleavage.

It was a few days since you last shared your dreams and suddenly you began to crumble under the weight of your tears. Crying almost as much as you had that night as that memory kept flashing behind your eyes. It still felt so fresh. How he hadn’t been there. How you had been too late.

Your legs gave out from under you. Somehow, you were on your knees. Sobbing on the tile of your kitchen floor.

You didn’t realise, but he was out there. Watching. He had followed you home and seen that you lived in a house. A real one. He had scoffed at this and that you had paid over the odds for necro-tempered glass so that you could sit in some kind of sunlight without burning in your own home. He knew this, because he had found an invoice when he had been rooting in your trash.

He was smoking when he saw the kitchen light turn on. You were visible until you dropped to the floor. Eyes leaking with such emotion.

It physically hurt him to see you that way as he moved closer to the window. Tears started to prickle behind his eyes, a lump forming at the back of his throat. He wished to wrap his arms around you. Be allowed in your house, to offer comfort. For you to want his comfort.

He had always hated to see you cry.

In the following weeks, as Spike healed, your hearts began to break over and over. You avoided facing each other, it was too painful even to be in the same room.

Spike stayed outside your house more frequently and you found yourself napping a lot more than usual, just in case you caught the moment he would be sleeping too.

You longed for him in sleep just as he pined for you in reality. You began to want each other in all manner of consciousness. Defying the pain. The hatred you had once been so convinced of. All you wanted was the other and it infuriated you. Whilst somehow simultaneously being a solace.

You were a comfort blanket that the other held close. Wrapped around your hearts for protection. Soft like Sunday morning sheets dipped in the sun’s rays. The warmth of summer days meeting the whispering of cool winter nights.

The care you had weaved in and out of your hearts left a thread. A thread that entwined with theirs and tugged towards the other. The feeling was the last thing you could cling to.

But the pain, the loss. It was creeping up on you both. It always was. Becoming harder and harder to bear. The dreams and memories becoming more and more tainted. The worse, most painful parts taking up most of the dreams.

Despite all of this, you both settled in to sleep much earlier than you ever had before. You still wanted to touch the other, feel the other’s mind. Emotions through the dream. The truth of your love. The promise that it had been real for both of you. Even if it were for mere seconds.

You looked out of the window again, sighing, staring out into the night. Not realising Spike was staring back. You were too in your own head.

You saw it now, where you hadn’t been able to before. His softer side. The lover’s heart that was still firmly planted on his sleeve. How had you missed the attention he had given to Drusilla? How had you ignored the way he spoke about her. Protected her.

Why do you now envy her? Him? For the love story you were never allowed.

You remembered so much now. You both defied convention. You always had. Now you were starting to notice all of the similarities he had to that young man you agreed to marry. You craved him. His touch. His mind.

Through the next few days, the dreams became more frequent again. More scenes from the past. More feelings. Multiple times in the night. Both of you guiltily looking forward to them. The first part, anyway. It was worth the heartache, the hollow loss at the end. To be able to touch each other again, even briefly. Just like it had been.

You had both began to write again, feverish emotions and memories spinning. You had rediscovered your love for poetry as well as that guilty affection you held for the other.

You arrived in the school library one late afternoon. Spike had seen you crying that first time a while ago now and had been watching your house more often than he would like to admit. Your heart ached with every waking moment and you felt yourself walking through life as some kind of emotion-exhausted zombie might.

“Nice of you to join” Xander murmured with a smile. You had been late. You got caught up by the vampire that often tried to make you pay him to pass by ‘his’ turf in the underground tunnel system.

Oh, right, now the vampire that used to make you pay to pass him in the tunnels.

“Yeah, sorry. What’s the sitch?” You asked, a well-practiced smile now stitched on your face for them. You weren’t really expecting much of an update as you started to shake some dust out of your hair.

“It’s Spike. We can’t just let him walk anymore. I’m goin’ out tonight and putting an end to his reign of stupid”

“N-no” You said, unsure why your mouth had moved of your own accord. You had stopped what you were doing and now just staring vaguely at the middle of the room.

“What?”

“Y/n, you know as well as we do, if not more so, what may happen should we allow Spike to continue his ill-thought out tyranny at will”

“He’s not exactly enemy number one is all I meant” You shrugged slowly, still staring unblinkingly as more memories flashed behind your eyes. He was so human in your mind, you couldn’t let that go. Even despite everything you knew about him. The goodness, no matter how limited it appeared, was starting to shine through.

“How can you even begin to defend-”

“Isn’t there a major mayor-related-massacre threatening at any moment? Shouldn’t we care more about immediate threat than some vampire who would sell his remaining brain cell for some box-bleach?”

“Spike’s dangerous though, Y/n. With the threatening and the, uh, hostage-taking-of-me” Willow said softly. It made you feel so guilty. It tore you in half, her words. You berated yourself. For clinging to that rare happiness you felt in those dreams you shared at the expense of real lives.

Your feelings all ran at each other at once. A fated fight. To the death. Neither side was winning or losing, but the battle waged on fiercely.

“Okay. But let me do it” Your eyes almost pleading with them and after some consideration, they agreed. It was you and him, to the very end.

You waited for him at the bar. Simultaneously wishing him to arrive and hoping that he never did.

He arrived, walking towards you, the dim glow of the bar making his prominent cheekbones cast a shadow against his cheeks. Your eyes were transfixed on him, he moved in slow motion. Adjusting the shoulder of his leather duster as he walked.

As he came towards the bar, your eyes flashed between seeing him in reality stalking up to the bar and William walking, smiling towards you. The pictures cutting and splicing themselves together until it was one man.

Nostalgia sticking to your mind like glue, running into your eyes. Blurring the two. He was the same man. Your mind was becoming more and more sure of this.

Which was why this was going to be so hard.

Neither of you pretended the other wasn’t there today, you gestured for him to sit next to you on the spare seat. He stared for a moment, an eyebrow quirked in confusion before he just shrugged and threw himself down beside you.

“Lookie here, if it isn’t the runaway bride” He said, his voice bit deeper than he had expected. He remembered, then. You hadn’t been sure.

“Will- uh, Spike. I didn’t run” You corrected him, without elaboration.

“Yeah, well, suppose it’s not running if you didn’t bother to turn up in the first place”

“That is way not fair! I was totally-” He raised his eyebrows at your phrasing and tensed his jaw at your lie. You cut yourself off, trying to rephrase.

You explained. Exactly what had happened and how you had stayed there all night and through the next day despite the biting cold and rain. Your wedding gown soaked through, but you wouldn’t move.

You explained that you had hoped he would know you had run into trouble. That you would be there when you could.

And Spike believed you. Even when you were younger, he could always tell when you had been lying. This was probably the most honest you had been with him since you had met again.

Spike’s eyes were threatening to spill over again and he hid it by looking downwards, he was about to say something. Reply to your recount of that day, apologise for leaving so quickly, when you were interrupted.

“He bothering you, Y/n?” The bartender asked, gesturing with his head at Spike. Every time he saw you and Spike together there was a fight and you looked more miserable than usual.

“No, uh, we’re on a date. This is, like, my happy face” You assured him with a blank expression that made him laugh, “I’ll have my usual and whatever William usually drinks.”

The bartender looked at Spike, trying to hide his obvious laughter at his real name. No wonder he had chosen Spike. Spike glared, first at you and then at the bar tender. Who surrendered and moved away to make your drinks.

You did shoot Spike an apologetic look. It had slipped out again.

When you received your round you drank in silence for a while. Your thoughts marinating in your brains. Sitting beside each other, sharing a drink – it was alien. But neither of you could help enjoying it.

He knew now that he still loved you. It hurt and he was confused with himself for it, but he couldn’t deny it. Not any longer. You had been all he ever wanted and even now he just wanted to hold you against him the way he had fantasised about in his human years.

He found himself wanting to understand you. Wanting to be allowed beneath your scarred surface. He wished to comfort you when you cried. He wished to relearn the patterns of your mind. He knew your sweet poetry wasn’t lost, just like it wasn’t in his own mind.

You knew you would have never been able to do it. As soon as he walked in, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The stake in your sleeve was splintering uncomfortably and you let it. Your penance for what you were about to say.

“I came here to kill you” You admitted, “Slayer wants you dead”

“And you and your soul’s okay with that one? Pretty little off switch your morality got, isn’t it?” He laughed humourlessly swigging from his drink, “My life’s not worth anything when there’s nothin’ in it for you and yours”

“You could run” You let the suggestion hang in the air.

“And the Slayer would let that happen? Me toddlin’ off until the next time our paths cross and then it’s dust in the wind. For the both of us” He accused. Telling you what you had always known. Your fates were entwined. You had lived and loved together. Been sired at similar times, managed to grasp onto your unlives despite the constant threat. Your soul ached for him, his missing but still showing even if it was just in your own eyes.

You took it in turns to buy the other their drink of choice. It really was like the date you had never been on. You sat in silence, each considering what had been said. Until it had gotten too much for you.

You couldn’t hide, nor run anymore. The shift was too great. Tectonic.

He caught your eye, as you watched him closely. Were you going to say this?

“I look at you and I see that oak tree, those freckles. That smile you used to give me that was ours. Like a secret that only we knew” You spoke, voice wavering and glass crunching under your hand as you held your cup too tight, “I hear the poetry, feel the breeze on my face. I can even feel the bodice that used to dig into me as we sat on the grass…” Your voice caught as his face started to soften at your confession, “I know this is selfish and… wrong. But y-you’re him. The only love ever allowed in my heart. The only one that ever will be. You’ve not changed in the way you think you have, my love” You finished, your accent switching in and out from the one you used to have and the one you used now.

He was reeling from your words. He had never, in all the time he had known you while you were undead, seen you be so honest. So vulnerable. You spoke from the heart, the way you had always used to.

Her love. Your love. He replayed those words over and over. Unable to hate or cast out any affection anymore. It was you.

You usually hid behind your guilt. Thick insulation, stopping you from moving forwards. Kept you constantly recounting past sins. It held your tongue, bound your actions to those that Angel helped construct. Acting only in a way that would allow for you to atone. No happiness, no light.

But now you were bearing yourself to him. Daring to be vulnerable - to hope that he felt it too. Despite it all. Despite who he had been to you in recent memory. The hatred, the dislike felt more distant a memory than the love your shared now.

“Cognate souls sing in early morning. My heart, begotten” The words spilled from his mouth, tears running down his cheeks now.

“There lies she, a woman. The type one may tie a knot in” You whispered, almost choking on the words and how happy they had made you. How he had asked you to be his. To marry.

You locked eyes. Both still shining. Before he closed his eyes for an extended period of time. Savouring those words. That moment.

You were holding back more tears. These feelings long since hidden, but never lost. Your dead hearts began to flutter.

You leaned in and his lips caught yours. Lips moving slowly to begin with but even the slightest movement of your lips spurred him to kiss deeper. You responded desperately, hands reaching for him.

Needing this. Needing him. You wished to make up for being so late. In this kiss.

You could taste salt and… him. The way he tasted hadn’t changed. His lips were almost warm against yours. His tongue entering your mouth hot and urgent. You kissed as if the threat of being torn from the other was imminent.

Your hands slid up his back, gripping the material of his shirt. Wishing you could take it from him right here. Press your naked skin against his. His hand slid up the curve of your neck. The other grasping at the strands of your hair.

You fumbled, pulling each other desperately closer. Bar stools fallen in your wake. You were lost in the kiss, both of you were. Moving on instinct, lips hungry and desperate to recreate the feelings you had all that time ago.

You somehow had entered his crypt. His bed was covered, completely littered with papers. Scrawled with such feeling. Some aged, that had been guiltily kept and some on fresh lined paper. He shoved them from the bed haphazardly. You missed his slight embarrassment as you attached your lips to his neck instead. Tugging on his waistband, desperate and pleading.

You needed this. You had ached for his touch for too long. This was so much more real than the dream. So badly you wanted him. Quick and now.

Your lips pressed against any skin hungrily and you were working desperately to remove all of his clothes as fast as you could.

But he stilled your hands.

Guiding your head back so you would face him. Your pupils dilated and dazed already by your desire for him. For this act that had been held in reverence. The meeting of your bodies in the way you had been told to save for your true love in your youth.

That time had passed but there was something about it being him. About it being you. You had always wanted to feel his naked flesh against your own.

“Wait, Sweet- let me?” he mumbled against your lips, kissing softly now. Like he used to. You almost wept. His mouth grazed yours, not as cautious as he once was. He had learned since, but the way his lips caressed yours. The feeling, that heart, it was still there. His lips insisted that he was still promised to you.

He wanted nothing more than to take you, rough with desire and throbbing with passion. But there was something he had to do. Something William would never forgive him for if he didn’t take this opportunity. Something he would never forgive himself for.

You nod, you were his. You always had been. You couldn’t turn back now despite him allowing you to think on it for that brief moment.

He took you, laid you back on his bed. His guiding grip strong but surprisingly tender. His hands ran down your body in a silent adoration.

He took his time to remove items of your clothing that were left. The fabric felt binding until his hand rested there. With his touch, a sigh of relief. You both felt yourselves releasing a long-held breath. One you had held inside for centuries.

Your eyes shone. It was emotional for the both of you. To have so much right here in front of them. To have everything you had truly ever dreamed.

In this moment, you felt his love in every stroke. Every murmur, every gentle encouragement. Movement. He enjoyed the way you touched his body with such reverence. Adored every sigh of pleasure.

He was firm in his love, in his touch. Your hands sliding up his back, weaving and clasping at his short, bleached hair. You moved so easily with him. Your bodies in perfect harmony. As if they were truly made for each other.

He kissed every part of you. His lips discovering places he had only ever dared dream about before. Sometimes he pressed his lips a little teasingly but others because he wanted to worship your form. He couldn’t rush this. His lips skimming every curve of your body. William was already writing sonnets in his mind. Pressing them into your skin.

He had wanted to do this since the day he had discovered what love making was. To meet your flesh with his. To consummate his adoration. To prove his devotion to your body, not just the mind he already adored. He had wanted to have you this way. To show you how true this feeling was.

His rhythm peaked and slowed. His touch sensual and yet wholly sensitive to you. Kisses littering your skin. He couldn’t believe you were here. That you were in his bed. He had longed, ached. Imagined exploring the beauty encapsulated in your form. His mind was intoxicated with you. Your touch, even your scent.

His eyes never leaving yours. Your eyes shone, threatening to spill again. You caught his lips when he kissed a trail along your collarbone towards your lips. You whispered such loving assurances against his pale skin. Into his ear as he ran a hand along your thigh. You cradled his body to you, wrapping yourself around him. Ensuring he was ever closer.

You hoped that he knew you were right there with him. That you were his, like you had been all those years ago.

You laced your fingers with his. Locking like your eyes. Every part of you had to be connected. You craved each other and it was only satisfied when you were together completely. In mind and body.

No mere dream.

He woke up the next evening, expecting you to be gone. He screwed his eyes up, not willing himself to look less the desperate pang of disappointment swallow him whole.

But when he dared to open his eyes you were there. On your side facing away from him. Sleeping. You had never slept so well, not since you had got your soul back.

You looked so peaceful when you slept. Much more so than when you were awake. He rolled over to press himself against your body. His hand tracing the curvature of your body. He had been deprived of your touch for so long.

He didn’t want this moment to end. This is what he had been missing all these years. It was you. It had only ever been you.

He cautiously ran a hand along your bare skin and enjoyed as you sighed softly through sleep. Your shoulders were exposed and he pressed his lips to your skin. Slow, gentle kisses. Pressed with such meaning. It was as soft as he remembered, despite the years. The fights.

He closed his eyes at the contact, hearing your contentment. You moved back slowly, needy for his body to further embrace yours.

This was all he had ever dreamed of. All he had written about. This was a century in the making.

Your eyes began to open, in your sleepy state you turned to him. You smiled.

William.

The smile lit up the room, better than the sun he remembered whenever you were around. You leaned in, settling a sleepy kiss against his lips.

Written poetry was scattered around the bed you shared for the day. Surrounding you both. Spike’s passion rekindled as yours was. For love and for poetry.

It was in that state between sleep and wake where reality hadn’t quite caught up. Your guilt hadn’t hit you. Your duty, anxieties. None of it was more important than the scene before you.

Everything just felt right. All you knew was this early evening adoration. You felt comfortable. Safe.

The world had stopped on its axis in this moment. The first shoots of love re-growing from your hearts.

#Spike #Spike btvs #Spike x reader #Spike x you #Spike imagine #btvs #btvs x you #btvs x reader #btvs imagine #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #buffyverse #Spike fic #female reader #female #vampire reader #vampire

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chaoticpuff17 · 4 years

Text

A Dangerous Game

Part 26

masterlist

warning: violence. smut. penetrative sex. fingering. dirty talk. cunnilingus (mild). swearing. yandere behavior. angst

Hello darlings! It’s here! The wedding! The angst, the heartbreak! And Taehyung too! I loved writing this chapter, and I hope you all enjoy reading it! Sorry its a long one!-- chaotic puff

The wedding was upon them faster than anyone truly realized except perhaps for Namjoon for whom the day could not come fast enough. Anyone looking for the groom would find him giving orders half done up in his tux and his hair a mess from the amount of times he had run his hands through it. More than one poor soul had been threatened by the crime lord throughout the course of the morning. Every member of staff was on edge trying not to set off the hair trigger the man seemed to be operating with. But for every bit of nervous energy the groom exuded, the bride carried herself with a sort of gentle indifference as though nothing could touch her.

She watched the bustle in the garden, the people going in and out of the house, from the vantage of her old window. For the days leading up to the wedding, Namjoon had her move to her original room where she could rest and get ready away from the bustle of the final wedding preparations. Of course she was not without someone by her side. There was a team of ladies all there devoted to making the bride look perfect, every inch the match of the great Kim Namjoon, and there was her ever present guard. On this day, it happened to be Taehyung.

He may not have been her favorite of her minders, but his joking and boxy smile had kept her calm throughout her busy morning. And she had to admit, the man had style and had been a godsend in directing the ladies in making sure she looked up to Namjoon’s standards while still looking like herself. It didn’t hurt that he had also kept a steady stream of mimosas flowing throughout the morning, and had insisted on breaks whenever she began to get overwhelmed.

He was a smart man. He’d balanced out the alcohol with the food he coaxed into her whenever she had a break from the ladies determined to make her look every inch Namjoon’s queen and made sure that the mimosas weren’t too strong. No one wanted the bride to be drunk on her wedding day, except perhaps for the bride. She would have welcomed the numbness the alcohol would have brought, but Taehyung was not about to take the fall for a drunk Y/N when Namjoon was already two seconds away from a conniption fit.

She emerged from the closet carrying her skirt gently lifted in one hand as she came back into the main room. The satin of the gown flowed down her body hugging her figure from the sweetheart neckline till just below her hips where it flowed out in a gentle trumpet skirt with a lovely train trailing behind her. It was simple and elegant, just as everything Namjoon had arranged for the wedding. Everything about her appearance had been decided on by Namjoon as she had shown no interest in any of the wedding plans.

Her hair was pulled back in an elegant chignon on the back of her neck with her veil fixed into it with an elegant silver comb. On her finger sat the ring Namjoon had given her accompanied by the only other jewelry she wore, the earrings he had given her that first day. The pearl and diamond earrings were just as lovely now as they were then, and she looked at them with a sort of bittersweet irony. Namjoon, she had found, was a romantic at heart. The earrings were sentimental, the first piece of jewelry he had given her as his “wife”.

“What do you think?” She asked smiling humorlessly as she played with the veil that fell down to her hips flaring it out behind her as she did a little spin.

“You look beautiful.”

“Not a hair out of place. I’ve been poked and prodded enough to ensure that.” She grimaced remembering the hours spent in hair and makeup. She’d been pulled out of bed early that morning pushed into a bath, and then swept away into wedding preparations with Taehyung happily chattering away the whole time.

“And you look perfect!” He cheered lifting a glass in her direction before throwing back the contents and reaching to fill his glass again.

“Oh no.” She huffed shooting him a dark look. “If I’m not allowed to be drunk for this affair, you’re not allowed to be drunk.”

“It’s a wedding.” He deadpanned adjusting his suit. “Everyone will be drunk before the night’s over, except for you and Namjoon. Namjoon’s way too excited for today to get drunk and ruin it. And you are on strict alcohol limits, noona. Namjoon said no tipsy brides.”

“Yeah, well he’s a spoil sport.”

“You’re the one marrying him.” He grinned playfully shoving her shoulder.

“You can have him.” She snorted taking a sip of her own mimosa which was really more orange juice than champagne at this point. “You couldn’t have brought screwdrivers instead?”

“No drunk brides.” He sing songed shooting her shit eating grin. “I’m not about to be the one hyung shoots today.”

The door opened distracting them both especially with who entered. There stood Jackson looking bedraggled in his suit and breathing heavily as though he had run to be there, and he probably had. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that Jackson was allowed anywhere near her.

“What are you doing here?” Taehyung asked standing and taking a defense stance in front of the bride. “You’re not allowed up here. Guests are supposed to be downstairs, and riff raff is supposed to stay outside with the rest of the trash.” He growled.

“Y/N.” Jackson continued ignoring Taehyung’s insult. “Y/N, please. I need to talk to you.” He begged stepping further into the room despite the dirty looks the ladies and Taehyung were giving him.

She took in a shuddering breath grabbing Taehyung’s arm for support. “Get him out of here.”

“Y/N…”

“Get him out of here!” She shouted standing from the sofa and moving to stand by the window instead her skirts rustling behind her.

“Y/N.” He pleaded.

Taehyung stepped forward pushing Jackson back. “She doesn’t want you here.”

Jackson shoved back trying to push past the taller man. “Y/N, please. Just let me talk to you.”

“Out.” Taehyung grabbing the other man practically throwing him out of the room. “If I see you near her again, I’ll shoot you myself.” He hissed closing the door behind him. He pulled out his phone tapping a message out to the other boys before turning his attention back to the woman who was shaking over by the window. “Could you get her some water?” He murmured to one of the attendants before moving over to her. “You okay? Need me to grab Jin-hyung? He’s probably trying to sedate Namjoon hyung, but I’m sure I can steal him away. He likes you better than hyung anyway.”

She shook her head. “How did he get in here?” She whispered staring out the window to the garden out at what would very shortly be her wedding ceremony.

“I don’t know, but I’ll check the CCTV footage. If you don’t want Jin, I can call Jungkook up for you, or Yoongi?” He offered looking over her worriedly.

“I’ll be fine.”

He paused looking her over for a minute as if contemplating something. “I’ll call Jungkook. He’ll be here in a minute.”

And he was. The younger man came bursting into the room only a few minutes later looking over at her frantically. “Noona!” He crowed swooping her up in hug and spinning her around when he reached her.

“Kook!” Taehyung scolded trying to pull the other man off of her. “You’re going to mess up her hair!” He fussed over her making sure her veil was still in place and that her hair and dress were fine once Jungkook has set her on his own two feet again.

“You look beautiful, noona.” He gave her his bunny grin before glowering at his hyung. “How did that fucker get up here?”

“I don’t know! I’m going to go check the security cameras! See you at the ceremony, noona.” He shot her a wink before moving to take his leave.

“You okay, noona?” He asked giving her a puppy dog look despite the fact that he was much taller than her and all muscle.

“I’ll be fine, Kookie.” She gave him a weak smile wrapping her arms around herself. “How long till the ceremony?”

“I need to get you down there soon. Probably in the next half hour or so.”

“So soon?” She whispered.

“You’ll be fine, noona.” He assured looping an arm over her shoulder comfortingly. “And now you’ll really be our noona! You’ll be hyung’s wife!”

“You sure we can’t just get in a car and go?” She asked staring down at the guests milling around in the garden. She knew none of them, but she knew they were probably all mafia connections of Namjoon’s.

Soon enough Miss In came to usher them down stairs. Jungkook let her loop her arms through his, using him as support as they descended the stairs towards what felt like her impending doom. Marriage was far more permanent than kidnapping. It was legal, binding. That was what Namjoon wanted. He wanted her bound to him to tightly she could never leave.

Someone handed her bouquet. White peonies. Everything was white peonies. She knew the meaning of the peony, and it left a sour taste in her mouth. Romance. Prosperity. Good fortune. A happy marriage. That’s what he wanted, a happy marriage, and he was going to get it whether she wanted to give it to him or not. He was going to have it all, the romance, the prosperity, the good fortune, and the happy marriage too.

She would have chosen anemones, aconite too. Loneliness and hatred. That was what this marriage would be for her. Loneliness and hatred. This was not the life she wanted for herself, and she wanted it even less as Jin came to stand beside her ready to lead her down the aisle where she could see Namjoon waiting. She had to try though. What other choice did she have?

She didn’t register the music, nor did she pay attention to the eyes of the guests on her. Her focus was on Namjoon. He looked dashing in his tux, she hated to admit, with his hair pushed back from his forehead, and a smile on his face that looked absolutely blissful showcasing those damn dimples of his.

Jin kept her steady as he led her down the aisle, his hand a comforting weight on her arm keeping her grounded a she wanted nothing more than to run back up the aisle and disappear. It was the most emotion she had felt in weeks.

Jin handed her over to Namjoon placing a gentle kiss on her cheek and murmuring words of encouragement into her ear before he did.

She didn’t really remember the ceremony. It was all a blur to her up until the moment it was her turn to say ‘I do’. Namjoon squeezed her hands bringing her back to the present reminding her it was time to seal her fate. Odd how two little words could carry so much weight. They were almost suffocating. She said them though, her voice barely a whisper.

The officiant had them sign the papers there an then placing their stamps on the paperwork sealing her fate. Namjoon’s happiness was almost dizzying once it was done. It radiated from him in waves washing over her almost nauseatingly.

He pulled her into a sweet kiss savoring the fact that she was his now, well and truly his. There would be no escape for her now.

The reception passed by in almost the same blur for her as the ceremony had. Person after person came up to congratulate the happy couple. And she did her part. She smiled. She thanked people. She remained by Namjoon’s side like a good obedient little wife should all the while feeling hollow, an empty shell of herself.

“You look beautiful, jagi.” Namjoon whispered pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Absolutely stunning.” She didn’t respond staring off into the distance. “Are you alright, jagi?” He asked lightly squeezing her hand.

She started looking up at him with wide eyes. “Yes, I’m fine. Just a little tired.” He hummed eyes scanning over her for any signs of fatigue. “I think I just need a minute. I think I’ll go over to the pagoda if that’s alright with you.” Her smile was thin, strained.

“I’ll get you some water and meet you there.” He murmured releasing her with a content smile, one that she did not return instead lifting her skirt slightly and making her way through the garden paths and towards he pagoda.

It was evening now and the garden was lit up like a fairy land as the guests milled around. One occasionally stopped her, offered their congratulations, and she thanked them with a tired smile. It was a relief when she reached the pagoda. It too was lit up just like the rest of the garden, but it was far enough away from the main festivities that she could have a moment of peace.

She basked in the night air leaning over the railing to stare down at the dark water of the pond. The surface was smooth, glasslike in the night. This was one of her favorite spots in the garden. She often took tea here. It had a beautiful view of the gardens, and was shielded from the sun. She and Namjoon had even taken meals there together on occasion.

“Y/N?” She stiffened at the sound of the familiar voice. Whirling around she found herself faced with Jackson.

“What are you doing here?” She hissed bracing herself against the railing. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Y/N, please, just talk to me.” He pleaded walking towards her despite the way she flinched away from him.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Please, Y/N, I’m trying. We don’t have much time.”

“You should go.”

He sighed pulling a hand through his hair agitatedly. “I know. I know. I just need you to talk to me. This was never my intention. You have to know that.”

“I don’t know anything anymore.” She scoffed inching her way along the railing looking for a way around him.

“Y/N, please, I can get you out of here. I just… I just need some time.”

She laughed, the sound bordering on hysterical. “It’s too late for that now. I’m married, Jackson. I’m fucking married!”

“I know. I’m sorry, little bear.”

“You have no right to call me that anymore. You’re a liar.”

“No.”

“You’re a liar and a sneak. Where you ever going to tell me?”

He ran his fingers through his hair again growling under his breath. “You didn’t need to know. You’d been…”

“Don’t!” She shrieked. “Don’t pull that shit on me. I’m not some fragile flower you need to protect. I never was.”

“Just listen to me!” He yelled surging forward and grabbing her upper arms. He shook her slightly his grip on her uncomfortably tight.

It was only for a moment though. In the next second he was ripped off of her pressed against one of the beams of the pagoda, Namjoon’s hand around his throat. “Step away from my wife.” He growled eyes blazing with a cold fury. “I thought I told you never to go near her again? Are you deaf or just stupid?” He hissed cocking his head to the side curiously as Jackson clawed at his hand trying to get him to release the strangle hold he had on him.

Namjoon released him, only to send him flying to the ground in the next second with a brutal punch. Namjoon circled him his movements slow and deliberate as he examined the man before him. Jackson’s nose was bleeding, and he was dazed, but he made a move to get up, only to receive a savage kick to the rips sending him sprawling to the ground again.

Namjoon tsked staring down at him with disdain still circling him like a predator. Namjoon’s men were there in an instant pulling Jackson up and holding him on his knees as Namjoon stared him down. “I warned you, Jackson.” He sighed looking down at the man with something akin to disappointment, but there was a sick sort of glee in his eyes belied the fact that he was enjoying this far too much to be disappointed.

He sent another sharp hit to Jackson’s head followed swiftly by another.

“Stop it.” She shrieked pressed back against the railing. “Stop!”

But Namjoon ignored her sending another harsh hit to the man’s face. Yoongi and Hoseok held Jackson still, completely unbothered by the violence. Hoseok looked almost gleeful while Yoongi remained impassive, almost bored by it all.

“Stop it!” She shrieked again tears welling up in her eyes as she surged forward to take hold of Namjoon’s arm before he could throw another punch. Jackson was already bloody and bruised, and she didn’t want to see any more of it.

“Please stop.” She whispered shivering in the night breeze. “Joonie, please.” He froze hearing the nickname. He looked down at her in surprise eyes flitting over her features taking note of the distress displayed there. “Please, Joonie.” She whispered tightening her hold on his arm.

He sighed turning his attention back to the bloodied man. “Take him away. I never want to see his face here again.” His eyes narrowed dangerously as he lifted Jackson’s face up to look at him. “The next time you cross me, I won’t be so gracious.”

He turned then, back to Y/N while he wiped the blood from his hands with a handkerchief. “I think it’s time to retire, jagi.” He held out a hand, and she obediently took it allowing him to pull her into his side and lead her out of the pagoda.

She was shaking the whole way through the garden and back into the house. Namjoon ignored the guests trying to give them well wishes, focusing on bringing her back inside. He took her back to the master bedroom gently leading her into the walk-in closet where he carefully undid the zipper of her dress allowing her to step out of the heavy mass of fabric before draping the white robe that the attendants from earlier had her in over her shoulders.

He sat her down at the vanity pulling off her veil and setting it aside before setting to work on the myriad of pins that had been shoved into her hair that morning. He took his time, gently pulling out each pin and setting it on the vanity. Slowly, her head was released allowing her hair to tumble over her shoulders where Namjoon laid a trial of kisses over the fabric of the robe.

They hadn’t been intimate since that first time. He was frightened of setting her off, but tonight was different. Tonight was their wedding. Tonight she was his, and he had every intention of having her.

She stared at him in the mirror watching as he trailed kisses over her shoulders gently moving the robe away from her shoulder allowing it to catch at her elbows.

“You were absolutely radiant today.” He purred eyes meeting hers in the mirror. “A vision.” A kiss to the junction of her neck and shoulder. “A goddess.” Another kiss placed higher up. “Won’t you let me worship you, jagi?”

She nodded mutely, allowing him to pull her up and sweep her up into a bridal hold as he carried her into the bedroom dropping her onto the beds before crawling on top of her kissing a trail from her navel up. He straightened up straddling her waist as he removed his shirt before his hands came down ripping her bra in two throwing the ruined contraption away as she gasped at the unexpectedly brutal movement.

“Beautiful.” He growled leaning back down to lavish attention on her now exposed breasts.

He toyed with the flesh there, pulling, sucking biting watching in satisfaction as her breathing became heavier. She groaned as he delivered a sharp nip to the sensitive nub grinning from ear to ear as he trailed kissed back down her skin towards the apex of her thighs. He stopped when he reached the lacy edge of her panties, hooking a finger under the fabric and slowly pulling it down her legs before throwing it to meet her ruined bra and his shirt on the floor.

“Shhhh.” He cooed pressing his hands down on her thighs to keep her still as she began to shift nervously. He placed a wet kiss to the skin of her inner moving upwards towards his goal. “Let me make you feel good, jagi.” He ran a finger up her slit flicking her clit and reveling in the way she whimpered under his touch.

“You’re hardly wet at all, jagi. We can’t have that, now can we?” He hummed sympathetically shooting her a predatory grin before burying his head between her thighs.

She gasped back arching off the bed at the first feel of his tongue against her clit. Marcus had never done this to her, but Namjoon seemed all too pleased to do it. He pressed his lips over her core, sucking her clit into his mouth as her body jerked a high pitched whine escaping her mouth. She could feel him grin against her. The smug bastard.

His tongue teased her clit, pleasure winding its way up her spine as he worked. His hands kept their grip on her thighs holding her in place as he continued teasing her, nipping and licking at her cunt and drinking up the arousal that was gathering there. Eventually one of his fingers came up teasing her slit as he worked over her clit before slipping inside her pulling another moan from her. He slowly thrust his fingertips in and out of her working her over before slipping in another finger and then another relishing the way she keened and moaned as he curled them within her pumping them in and out at a quicker pace bringing her closer and closer to her high before she came with a scream falling back against the mattress as she came down.

Namjoon didn’t stop there though. He continued to tease her ignoring her whines of protest as he sucked on her clit harshly fucking his fingers into her determined to make her cum again.

“Namjoon!” She warbled out trying to push him away, oversensitivity taking hold pleasure bordering more on the side of pain now, but he growled pushing her hands away and continuing his assault until he felt her walls tighten around his fingers as she came again.

He sat up watching with satisfaction as she laid against the pillows dazed from the onslaught of two consecutive orgasms. “So beautiful.” He purred. “Look at you. So wet for me. My wife.” He swooped down taking her mouth in a harsh kiss that was more teeth than tongue, nipping her lip making her gasp. “Gonna fuck you full.” He growled. “Make you scream for me.”

“Namjoon.” She keened squirming underneath him trying to create some friction to ease the ache between her legs.

“I know, jagi.” He cooed slowly unbuckling his pants slipping them off all the while watching her with heavy lidded eyes. “Such a good girl for me.”

He settled himself between her legs rubbing his lengths over her folds coating himself in her slick, a low pleased growl escaping him. Her breath hitched as he pressed the tip of his cock into her entrance slowly pushing himself in until he was buried to the hilt letting her feel every inch of him. “You take me so well, jagi.” He moaned panting into the skin of her neck.

He moved setting a brutal pace as his hips snapped against hers. “Namjoon!” She keened throwing her head back against the pillows. She may not have liked him, but even she had to admit he was an excellent lover. Marcus had never been so concerned about her pleasure, but Namjoon seemed to revel in it, pleased by his ability to make her moan his name despite her distaste for him.

With each thrust the tip of his cock brushed against her cervix slamming in and out of her until she was seeing stars. It wasn’t long until she felt the pressure building in her abdomen again, his cock filling her in all the right ways constantly hitting the spots that left her breathless.

“Fucking hell.” He groaned nipping at her neck. “You’re so fucking tight.”

She didn’t know how much longer she was going to last as his fingers came down to rub tight circles against her clit. She came with a high pitched scream of his name, followed not long after his pace stuttering as he released spurt after spurt of cum into her in quick succession.

He lied on top of her for a moment taking a moment to enjoy the feel of her heat around him before pulling out of her, his cum leaking out of her as he did. “I love you.” He whispered placing a light kiss to her lips. “I love you so fucking much.” Another kiss. “My wife.”

part 27

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