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pinkkittysaw · 2 years ago

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I AM AFRAID NOT OF LEAVING, BUT BEING FORGOTTEN

*the title is part of a quote from the book Little Devil in America: Notes in Praise of Black Performance by Hanif Abdurraqib

pairing: clive rosfield x f!reader

summary: unable to deal with your bouts of insecurity, you try to call it quits on your relationship with clive

word count: 3.5k

content: hurt/comfort, established relationship, self flagellation (talks of insecurity and self doubt/deprecation), unhealthy coping mechanisms, allusions to anxiety, extremely self indulgent

(18+) this piece is sfw but am uncomfortable with minors interacting with my work

a/n: dealing with a lot of anxiety and thoughts of worthlessness/hopelessness so i created this in hopes of alleviating some of those feelings 👍

also if you’re interested, i listened to Need 2 by Pinegrove while writing this. figured it’d help set the mood while reading

divider by @/saradika

"You're still sleeping in the bunks? Clive returned yesterday, you know." Jill teases as she sits on the edge of the bed you've chosen to occupy for the past few nights. It wasn't unusual for you to reside in the bunks whenever Clive was away on an assignment; the big bed that occupies his chambers being too spacious to bear during nights spent alone.

What was unusual, however, was that you continued to spend your evenings there after he had already returned. Having once been so eager to jump into his sturdy arms after catching wind of his arrival back at the hideaway. You were often caught running down to the pier once the ferryboat came into view, excitedly waiting for him at the dock while waving your arms like a madwoman. When Jill heard from Clive that the two of you hadn't spoken since before he left, she immediately knew something was amiss.

"I'm aware," you grumble into the pillow that you're currently holding over your face.

"Did something happen between you two?" She probes, a frown forming on her features as she scoots closer to you. "Did he hurt you? Because I swear to Founder if he-"

"No, no, no, it's nothing like that," you interrupt, removing the pillow. "He's lovely. I just..." Hesitation creeps into your voice as your words trail off. To be honest, you're not quite sure how to describe what you're experiencing at the moment. "I'm feeling...unwell." Though it's not a physical illness that ails you, you hope that your response is satisfactory enough for her to leave the conversation be.

"Have you come down with something? I can help you to the infirmary if you need."

"It's nothing that serious. I'll be alright." You give her a half-hearted smile in an attempt to reassure her. She eventually yields, though still not convinced of your words.

With a shake of her head and a heavy sigh, she rises to stand. "He'll come looking for you sooner or later." Padding across the room from your bunk to the entrance, she looks back at you before making her exit. "You can't avoid him forever."

You scoff when she's just out of earshot. Like hell you can't, you think to yourself. Wearing your self-isolation on your sleeve like a badge of honor. Whenever you wanted to disappear from people's lives, you did, regardless of how much it hurt. This time was no different.

The truth of the matter is that you were avoiding Clive; the reasons for doing so were nobody's fault but your own.

In your eyes, you were so much weaker than he, often thinking you were undeserving of a man of his caliber. He harnesses the strength to take on entire eikons, whereas you peril in comparison, so after ruminating on your feelings of worthlessness one night, you decided to call it quits, figuring that it was for the best and choosing to avoid him so you didn't have to confront your own inadequacy. Perhaps it wasn't the healthiest choice, but it was the one you decided to go with.

The next few days are spent taking on as many assignments as you can, with the hope of eluding Clive. The majority of his time was spent away from the hideout, but you could never be too careful.

Rushing over to check the alliant reports at first light and carrying on well throughout the day. From dawn til dusk, you worked yourself to the bone only to collapse in your bunk at the end of the day, dead to the world, rising early from your slumber to repeat it all again the next day.

Apparently, Clive caught on to your little scheme because, after one late afternoon, someone stood waiting for you at the pier upon your return to the hideaway.

After thanking Obolus, you make your way over to the fellow bearer to inquire about what's going on. "Clive's looking to speak with you in his chambers; he said it was urgent," she states.

"It can't wait?"

"He seemed rather insistent; best not keep him waiting."

"Of course, thank you for letting me know." You smile at her before making your way over to his chambers, grumbling to yourself. You climb the steps to his room with a pout on your face, not looking forward to the conversation awaiting you on the other side of the door.

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you extend your arm to gently knock on the door. "Come in." His voice calls out from inside the room.

You push apart the two slabs of wood separating his chambers from the main deck and step inside. He's sitting at his desk to your left, quill in hand, stripped down to just his tunic and trousers, his leathers and armor removed, while his sword rests against the wall. Fuck, you think to yourself. He must be set on staying a while. There's no escaping him this time.

You make quick work to occupy yourself with the objects scattered around the room as you move to stand in front of his desk. You're surprised to see a pile of your forgotten clothing neatly folded on the couch that sits against the opposing wall, as well as the various knickknacks you've added to his desk during your time together. Albeit an overreaction, you half expected your things to be tossed into the lake's abyss with how you were acting.

"Ah," he says as he looks up from his writing, setting down the quill. "There you are. I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of having your clothes washed, should you want them back."

"But if not, I could always make space for them here."

Your eyes meet his as the statement leaves his mouth. It's an invitation, an olive branch extended to you in hopes of making peace. The implication of his words, the domesticity of it all, leaving bits and pieces of each other in one another's lives, even after all that you've done to push him out of yours, leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth, making you realize just how truly undeserving of his love you really are.

A mumbled "Thank you" is all you can offer him in response.

"It's no problem." He stands up from his seat; both his hands lay flat on the desk below as he peers down at you. "I've heard you've been making yourself quite scarce lately."

"Your undertaking of assignments has increased significantly. It's almost as if...you've been avoiding me." He states it like a question, trying to gauge your reaction and see if you'll give him something he can latch on to.

"That's not true," you scoff. It is true, and you both damn well know it, but you keep up the facade anyway.

He exhales the breath he was holding, easing up on the interrogation. "I admit, I've been spending more time away from the hideout, but you can't seriously expect me to believe that your behavior lately is normal."

"I haven't seen as much as a glimpse of you since before I left."

Frustration grows in your belly; you're tired of running, tired of hiding, and tired of pretending. "I can't do this anymore, Clive."

"Can't do what?"

"This. Us."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just not good enough for you... or anyone."

"I shouldn't even be here. I'm not strong enough to fight alongside the cursebreakers," you gesture into the open air. "I lack the wit to come up with strategies to help take down the Mothercrystals, and I've got as much charm as a bloody morbol."

"I've read the missives from the past few days, all of which praise you for your tact, your kindness, dedication, and care. Just because you're not on the frontlines doesn't mean you're not making an impact."

"What good is any of it?" You raise your voice. "What good is helping with crops, fetching supplies, and slaying meager monsters if it's the next day that our people are led to slaughter?"

"The imperials tighten their grip across the realm with each passing moon, and what I do in the grand scheme of things is the equivalent of sitting on my arse twiddling my thumbs. I'm about as useful as a corpse."

"ENOUGH." His voice boomed and bellowed, loud enough that people down on the main deck probably turned their heads at the sound. "Sit," he commands, pointing to the couch across the room, and you dare not disobey.

Embarrassed that you've stirred up such a fuss, you sit yourself down on the piece of furniture and hang your head low, preparing for a scolding. Not that it wouldn't be deserved; Clive has enough to worry about with the Mothercrystals and bearers, now having to also quell the insecurities that linger in your heart.

Just suck it up and do better is what you've always been told, but try and try and try as you might, you can never seem to get there. You're never enough. Can your strengths even be called strengths if there's so many out there who can do everything you do but better?

You don't bother raising your head to him as he paces back and forth, not wanting him to see another weakness of yours in the form of your tears. He gives a heavy sigh as he collects his thoughts, pinching his nosebridge while searching for the right words. "I apologize for raising my voice, but I simply cannot bear how critical you are of yourself, especially when I know for a fact that your fears are unfounded."

He marches up to where you sit on the couch, caressing your cheek and nudging your face in his direction. You can't bring yourself to meet his icy blues, knowing your heart would burst at the seams under his gaze or the kind smile that he reserves just for you. You don't deserve it, not with the way you've acted, so instead you turn your head in the opposite direction, refusing to indulge in his affections. His grip is a tad more firm as he attempts to move your face once more. You don't have the strength to resist his pull, so you let him maneuver your jaw to face him.

Tears begin to flow down your cheeks, and your lower lip wobbles as you attempt to hold in your sobs. His eyes widen as he sees the state that you're in, and with a gentle finger, he lifts your chin up.

"Will you look at me, please?" His voice isn't as strong as it once was moments before. There's a small break in his tone, almost as if he's pleading with you. Feeling exhausted now, you lift your eyes to meet his. They're not filled with anger or disappointment, but with concern, and more tears pool in your waterline as you scan his face.

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispers, bringing his thumbs to wipe away the tears spilling from your eyes before sitting down beside you. He surveys your sullen expression before pulling you into a hug. His warmth surrounds you in his embrace, and a part of you hates how secure it makes you feel.

Always relying on others to get by, you'd be dead without him, and you know it. You're a hopeless, bumbling mess trying to find your way through a dark maze.

You cry more into his shoulder, soaking through his tunic with your tears, despite your best efforts to remain unfeeling and stoic. It's all too much all at once, and his comfort only agitates the ache deep within your heart.

"Let it all out; I'm right here."

"You're safe," he murmurs in your ear, stroking a comforting hand up and down your back.

"I don't deserve you, Clive."

"You don't deserve to see me like this," you manage to choke out between sobs. The force of your crying is so violent against him that you start hiccupping and gasping for air.

He doesn't respond to your claims, not yet anyway, knowing that doing so would only rile you up more—choosing to hold you instead, rocking you slightly from side to side. He waits for you to calm down before addressing you, and you don't attempt to speak again, your shortness of breath not allowing for any more words to be uttered. You allow yourself to rest in his arms like you've done many times before, and after a short while, your wails are reduced to nothing but sniffles.

Once you've become a bit more settled, he pulls away from the embrace only to fetch a hankerchief, giving you a few minutes to collect yourself. He sits back down with you, his free hand grasping yours firmly, grounding you. The weight of his fingers interlocked with yours serves as a reminder that he's here; he's with you.

"I apologize for the outburst," you say, wiping your face down with the cloth before shifting your attention to him once more.

"No need for apologies, my love. I'd much rather you cry in my arms than continue to bottle this feeling inside you and let it fester."

You look away from him, turning toward the gaps in the wall of his chambers where the sunlight peaks through. You stare out at the lake below, watching as the black water laps at the walls of the hideaway.

Your voice takes on a somber tone when you speak next. "You deserve someone better than me, Clive, someone stronger." The air surrounding you two is still but its weight is all too heavy.

"Don't be ridiculous," he chides, his body turning to face you as he throws an arm over the backrest of the couch.

"If only I was." You let your words drift off into the ether before speaking again. "You deserve someone who can bear the weight of her own burdens, who's strong enough to not fall apart at every small inconvenience, someone who doesn't need to run into the comfort of your arms like a petulant child. I'm not worth everything you do for me—the kindness, the generosity, the love—none of it."

He scoots closer to you, bringing a hand to grasp at your hip, his thumb stroking it back and forth. "Is that not my right as your lover? To see you at your weakest and most vulnerable and still love you anyway?"

"I'm nothing, Clive. It's been that way since the day I was born. I'm not worth trying to save, just deadweight that needs to be tossed overboard."

"You think I'm a sinking ship, then? that I can't ‘handle’ you?" He gestures in the air.

"I can barely handle myself. Let's just end this before it's too late."

"Don't I have a say in the matter? You're making all these decisions about us without so much as a forethought for how I feel."

"It's better this way."

"Better for who? The self-destructive thoughts in your head? Because it's certainly not better for me and I'd go as far to say that it's not what you really want either. So pray tell, what's the real issue here?Where is all this stemming from?"

You shoot a glare his way—a defensive one, but still a glare nonetheless.

He reaches out to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. It feels like no matter what you do, it's always wrong. Here you were acting like a brat to the man you loved, and here he was, being patient with you like a saint.

You relent, letting him have a peek into the inner world that you've kept a secret all this time. "There's a horrible weight in my chest carried with me wherever I go, wrapped up tight in my gut like a ball of twine, and no matter what I do, it comes back. I can't shake it. I can't shake anything. I'm still here, a mess of fear and nerves."

"I'm angry, vengeful, and mean, but at the same time, I'm scared of everything, timid and fragile as a mouse. If weakness were a person, it'd be me. Sometimes it's a miracle that i'm even able to do the things I do. I rely on you too much, and it scares me."

"You're anything but weak, my love. In fact, I think being vulnerable and open like this takes immense strength." He continues to caress your face.

"I'm not strong enough to fight alongside you. I'm useless when it comes to taking down the Mothercrystals."

He chuckles. "If physical strength was all I cared about, I would have taken a brute as my lover."

"Clive…" You roll your eyes in a playful manner, appreciating his attempt at lifting your mood.

The sun is setting now, and his chambers are tinted with a pale orange-yellow hue. The light reflects off the water, and you gaze upon the lake below while his gaze lingers on you.

"Come," he states, extending a hand as he stands up from the couch. You take his hand in yours as he leads you over to the gap in the wall, both admiring the sunset together. It's a beautiful evening; the clouds are painted pink and orange as the sun dips below the horizon.

"I'm serious, you know," he nudges your shoulder. The beginnings of a smile paint your features—a smile that he takes as a small win.

"Clive, I-" He presses a finger to your lips, silencing you. "Just listen, please," you nod, and he turns, facing the scenic view again, the sunlight bouncing off the yellow tones of his skin. "Do you remember traveling to the Apodetry all those years back? When I couldn't grapple with the fact that I was Ifrit and very well may have killed my own brother?"

You don't say anything, but you nod, and then he continues. "I'm not sure if I ever would have come to terms with it if you weren't by my side." He lets out a small sigh. "You say that you can't handle your own burdens, that I deserve someone stronger, but the truth is, without you, I might never have been able to bear my own. I'm not sure if I'd be the man I am today if I didn't have you, so don't you dare imply that I'd somehow be better off without you."

"You're right when you said I don't need you. It is not a matter of need or deserving, my love, but a matter of want. I want you. I desire you so wholeheartedly."

"I know that I alone am not enough to quell these thoughtsof yours, especially after the life you've lived-" he turns to face you again, his thumb grazing the leftover scar on your cheek from the removal of your brand, "-but please believe me when I say that you do matter, and not just to me, but to everyone here, to every person you've helped, to every soul you've graced with your kindness. Would you say those who work in the backgarden are unworthy of being here, simply because they don't wield a blade and march in the frontlines?"

"No," you pout.

He smiles. "Then I implore you to extend that same kindness to yourself." He steps closer, moving to nuzzle your nose with his. "Though you're not taking down Mothercrystals, you're showing people that there's still hope—that kindness can still exist in a world where harsh cruelties befall those who never deserve it."

"A twinkling light is left with everyone you help, no matter how minuscule it seems."

"We chose this undertaking so that dominants and bearers alike could live the lives they choose. If a life of peace is what you want, then it's one that you shall have. You shouldn't be fighting each and every day just so you can make it to the next."

Both of your foreheads press together as he continues to speak. "You don't need to throw yourself to the wolves. You're done with having to earn through suffering. You're done having to prove your worth. You don't have to earn your right to exist and be happy, not with me or anyone else here."

He presses his lips against yours. "I love you," he whispers in between the kiss. "Your vulnerabilities, your fears... They are not shortcomings, my love. They are what make you who you are, and though I wish I could make your pain a bit more tolerable, I wouldn't change a single thing about you, ever."

He presses more kisses on your lips, sweet, loving, and gentle. "You are my strength, my everything. I love you so much."

Bathed in the dying light of the sun, you hold each other tender with a slow brushing of lips against each other, and though such demons of the mind aren't so easily bested, you're given a moment's solace in the warm embrace of your lover, knowing that no matter what ails you, you'll face it together.

"I love you too, Clive."

#clive rosfield x reader #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy xvi x reader #final fantasy 16 x reader #x reader #hurt/comfort #angst #clive rosfield angst #final fantasy angst #final fantasy xvi angst #final fantasy 16 angst #ᯓᡣ𐭩 angel writes

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counselingwithita · 2 years ago

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Unspoken Clues Someone Might Benefit from a Mental Health Conversation

The signs and symptoms that point to someone developing or experiencing a mental health problem are not always overt. There are usually subtle signs, clues or behavioural changes that can allude to a need for support, connection or someone to talk to.

The amount of time we spend in our workplaces makes it an ideal setting to pick up on these subtle changes. We gain unique insights into our workmates as we watch them collaborate, innovate, solve problems and achieve their goals. We learn about how they like to work and their skills, knowledge and interests.

We might also get to know about who they are as a person, such as their daily habits, what makes them tick or how they react or respond to adversity or change.

The more we work with and get to know our colleagues, the easier it can be to notice when someone is under stress or if there are changes to their mood, behaviour or mental health. If you’re seeing a difference in the way a colleague reacts, behaves or copes, you might find that talking about their situation may be just what they need.

How to tell someone might benefit from a mental health conversation

It may not always be clear when someone might benefit from a mental health conversation, but the insights that we gather about our colleagues can form clues to a potential change in mood or circumstance.

Changes in behaviour or mood can demonstrate someone may be experiencing difficulties in their personal life or at work. Or, it may signal that they are developing a mental health problem.

A person might not show a significant change in their behaviour overnight. There may be a gradual change that becomes noticeable over time. Looking for a shift in behaviour or mood can help spot the signs that a mental health conversation may be beneficial.

For example, the potential need for a mental health conversation may present as:

Withdrawal

A new reluctance to socialise

New aversions to people, places or activities

Withdrawing from discussion, participation or providing input

Unpredictable or out-of-character behaviour

A change in hygiene or appearance

Disengagement

Vagueness, forgetfulness or distraction

Absenteeism, calling in sick or turning up late

Disengaging with organisational activities

Not completing work assignments on time

Changes to well-being

Fixations with personal inadequacy, inferiority, worthlessness or incapability

A reduction in patience or ability to problem-solve

Boredom, procrastination, apathy or disinterest in tasks, projects and activities

Struggling to make simple decisions

Overly self-deprecating or hopeless speech

Changes in mood

Judgemental, disapproving or avoidant behaviours

Anger, sadness or negativity

A sudden aversion to reasonable input from managers or supervisors

A change to leadership style, such as a punitive, critical or micro-managerial approach

Aggressive, critical, competitive or combative behaviour towards others

Hostile, quick-to-anger, or irritated reactions to people, intrusions, questions, or tasks

Dour, derogatory or cynical speech

Presenteeism or workaholism

A sudden zealousness for longer hours

Working more hours to complete the same work

An avoidance of home life

How to broach a discussion about a change in behaviour or mood

If you notice any of these changes with work colleagues, a mental health conversation might be able to help.

A few tips to keep in mind when broaching conversations about changes to mood or behaviour are to:

Focus on the behaviour, not the person. Instead of saying “You acted poorly the other day”, try to reframe the conversation on the problem. For e.g., “The meeting last week didn’t go as expected. What was happening that day?”

Remain objective, observe what has happened and recount the details without making assumptions or judgements. For e.g., say “From the outside, the situation looked like it lacked direction and focus. What was it like for you?” instead of “You looked like you didn’t know what you were doing”

Avoid comparisons with someone’s past performance. Phrases like “You used to be so much better at this” are unhelpful and may reinforce feelings of self-doubt. Instead, focus on the present situation. For e.g., “The <project> seems behind schedule. What is that like for you?”

Ask them directly about the feelings behind their changes in behaviour or mood. For e.g., “What is that like for you?” or “How are you coping?”

Listen to frustrations and problems even if there is no solution. For e.g., “That must be tough to deal with. How are you coping?”

Paraphrase and reflect their meaning back to them. For e.g., Correct me if I have got it wrong, but is what you’re saying <reflecting their words back to them> and this is leading you to feel <use their words for emotions>?”

Identify and query any presenteeism or workaholism in a gentle yet supportive way. For e.g., “You seem to burn the midnight oil of late. Is there any particular reason for that?”

Look for comments and dialogue that might open the door to reframing the capability from working to personal situations. For e.g., “You mention you like managing tasks at work because you get to see the progress build over time. What would it be like for you to tackle the situation you’ve described as another form of project?”

General phrases that may also open the door to discussion are:

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Some people find debriefing about work or life helps reduce stress. What would that be like for you?”

“I’ve always admired your skill for <their strengths>. Would applying that now help you with your current situation?”

“It’s been a while since we had the chance to chat. What’s been happening today?”

If you hear anything that leads you to wonder if the person may be having thoughts of suicide, it’s important that you use your suicide first aid skills and ask them directly.

But what if I get it wrong?

The beauty of a mental health conversation is that it is not a wasted exercise. Even if a mental health conversation doesn’t directly apply at the time, checking in on someone sends the powerful message that you care. It helps to create an environment that puts compassion at the forefront of how people communicate with one another. But most of all, it lets someone know that you will be there if they ever need a mental health conversation.

Source:

Mental Health First Aid Australia

#mentalhealth #mental health talk #mentalhealthcare

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lea-andres · 3 years ago

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Zavok anon here! What, you didn’t think I only like Vavokilla because of Vector and Vanilla, did you? ;D

Dont worry, i totally understand why people hate him lol. The game didnt do him justice 😔 (actually, it didnt really do any of them justice). The main reason I like them is because I filled them up with a shitload of headcannons, which I’ll explain down below.

This kinda turned into why I love the deadly six as a whole, so I hope you don’t mind too much! Also I think they’re all important to Zavok’s character in some way.

I first found out about the D6 through the sonic wiki. i was just getting back into sonic at the time, and wanted to check these dorks out. Their wiki pages made them sound so cool! I decided to watch the lost world cutscenes. I immediately fell in love with all of them.

They were very 2D, but i saw a lot of potential in them. How did they become a team? Why are they like the way they are? What are their dynamics with each other? Most of which… aren’t answered. So you know ya girl had to fix that-

Most peoples problem is that Zavok is a 2D knock off of Bowser and… yeah I can see why. But there’s so much more to consider when writing him! When I write Bowser, I make him a goofball single dad doing his best for his 8+ children while trying to rule a kingdom and kidnap his crush at the same time. When I write Zavok, I make him a stoic and cunning leader who’s Guarding the lost hex along with his team, willing to do some violent and scary things if it means keeping his team safe. (It also helps that I tend to write them more as siblings)

Not to mention the other D6 members! Yeah, they’re not what most people would call “fleshed out”, but those are what headcannons are for baby! Heres how i usually write them, if you’re interested:

I characterize Zazz as a feral puppy/cat. He will (and has) absolutely bite and chase after whatever creature captured his eye, but he’s fiercely loyal to the deadly six and considers them family. He’ll do that cat thing where he’ll bring a dead mouse to them and go “I hunted this for you! :D”. He also tends play fight with them if they’re in the mood.

Zomom is written as a big brother for the team, making sure they’re well fed and not doing anything TOO stupid lol. His quotes from the game show some hidden depth, too! Some of his quotes can get really self deprecating, and his final quote when Sonic defeats him at his final battle is “Mom was right, I am a failure!” iirc. Because of this, I also write him as insecure and worried. It’s a part of why he acts like a big brother. He doesn’t want anyone to feel like how he does, so he’s there to help with what the other 6 needs.

I don’t really focus on Master Zik a lot, but he is very important to the rest of the D6. He is seen as a stern father figure among them, training their abilities and giving advice. He’s very close to Zavok, as he adopted him when Zavok was a kid. If Zavok isn’t there, Master Zik will resume leadership until he comes back. Very proud of his kids team!

When it comes to Zeena, I don’t make her as self centered like she is in the games. She still is, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a little more toned down. She doesn’t always show it, but she very much loves her team, and shows it in an older sister kinda way. She likes to tease them about whatever, but she’s the only one who can do it, no other zeti! Also willing to lend an ear if they need it.

Zor is an interesting fellow to me. He canonically uses dark magic that the others wouldn’t dare touch, which has a lot of potential. I headcannon he was an outcast due to the black magic, which gave him a shitty childhood. He was in a really dark place before meeting the D6, and to cope he kinda went extreme with the whole “life is meaningless why try” and that’s why he’s like that. Most of that is exaggerated tho, and he’s doing wayyy better with the team! He kinda has the attitude of “everything’s useless except these 5 idiots I live with”.

And then there’s Zavok! Trained under Master Zik, he devoted himself to being a warrior, and created a team of 5 other Zetis to guard the Hex. He is very professional in general, and is usually the straight man to all the madness, but he doesn’t mind getting involved with the chaos sometimes. He’s kind of the glue that holds them together. He is very proud of his team, and considers them his siblings.

This is why I like them so much! I used my headcannons to give them some substance, and went to town! There is so much you can do with them, I swear.

This ended up a lot longer than I was planning lol. I hope you enjoyed it! I can go on and on about them, I’ll gladly talk about them more if people want me to. Anything to stolkhome them into liking more characters against their will~!

Ah ha! We have a name to put to the anon!

AHHHHHH, yes! Tossing the bits you don't like and replacing with headcanon! I should've known. 😂😂😂 We're all guilty of that to some degree. :P

And honestly, I love your D6 from these summaries. They sound much more interesting! I especially appreciate the fixes you did to Zomom! Canon Zomom might be my least favorite of the D6, he's just one big fat joke and that always rubs me the wrong way whenever that happens in media, but yours is an actual character and I appreciate that immensely. 😭

Thank you for sharing! I'd be open to hearing more about them in the future if you're willing to share!

#deadly six

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jinxpantsu · 4 years ago

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A Lesson in Love - A “Character Analysis” on Asmodeus

I had to come for the tracks, wigs, and weaves of bitches when Pomade dropped because I saw people talking shit about my boy. This was a milestone “project” or “reward” I guess?

I hit 400 followers today while I was out running errands!!! Thank you guys SO SO MUCH for the love and support! I can’t WAIT to produce more content for everyone!!!

Below the cut there WILL BE talk of season 3, as well as some talk of chapter 16. There’s a healthy amount of theorizing on his personality as well, I hope you don’t mind! This came out more like a plea to get people to change their minds about how Asmo really is, rather than a comprehensive essay of sorts. So here we go!

There’s something we apparently still need to talk about in this fanbase. The unrealistic idea of Asmodeus being a sex freak, and an unreliable person in general despite there being little proof of it. We need to set a few things straight about Asmo moving forward.

December 25th rolled around and Asmo’s audio drama and song were released. I take it everyone enjoyed both parts, as well as I did. My timeline both on twitter and tumblr were filled with Asmodeus content, as well as the other brothers and such. But I mostly got Asmo content. However, in peeks and cracks, if I looked hard enough, I still saw people who absolutely loathed Asmo or who were indifferent to him. Keep in mind; I think it’s okay. You don’t have to like everyone.

I’ve only joined the fanbase in September, but even I could tell some of these takes were old fashioned. I downloaded the game on October 17th, a very important anniversary for me, while I

was still in bed in the morning. I blazed through the entire story of season 1 and now I am stuck in season 2, specifically in Chapter 24. I obviously don’t have every card of Asmodeus with his Devilgrams, but I have been analyzing his character over the past few days for this.

So needless to say, I have a considerable amount of information on him, as well as personal thoughts that may help some learn to love him. Or at the very least, from spreading a negative idea of him around as if it were true. Enough that should help clear his name, so to speak.

Let’s look at his title; Avatar of Lust. Now naturally the thoughts that come to your head are sex and other sexual bits. So I can understand how some people would come to the conclusion that he’s just a sex freak. But if you look under the surface of his title, like I’m sure you’ve had to for your own personal favorites (*cough* Lucifer, Belphie, and Satan ESPECIALLY) you would discover that Asmodeus is more than just about sex. In fact, sex takes up very little of his pass time, if you were to believe it!

In recent chapters, as I’ve been told, Asmodeus doesn’t really get around much anyways:

Granted, this was said while in Celestia, but I imagine not much has changed for him since his fall, as well as his brothers.

Not really comfortable being with just anyone, huh…? Sounds like someone who doesn’t have sex so warily often as you’d think!

Being lustful can come in many shapes and forms. It can be merely in appearance, which Asmo is not afraid of doing. He’s very comfortable about skinship and it’s very apparent in how he dresses and acts that he wants you to adore his body. To worship it! Maybe not sexually, but aesthetically! Being lustful can mean just thinking about sex or sexual scenarios often, which if you take a peek at Asmo’s chat’s either with you or his brothers, is very apparent too.

Personally, I believe that people would assume he is not good in a relationship because he would have a “cheating problem”. I don’t think Asmo is a monster, just like I don’t think any of the brothers are monsters. They may be demons (technically fallen angels) now but they used to be angels too. Their falling out with their Father doesn’t mean they’ve completely abandoned morality, it was a rebellion for Lilith’s right to live. Not for them to sin as they pleased. For all we know they might have been fine in Heaven otherwise! (with the exception of Lucifer.)

A monster knows right from wrong and chooses evil anyways. An ignorant person doesn’t know right from wrong. Asmodeus is not a monster, nor is he ignorant.

When Asmo genuinely loves you, I think he would take steps to calm down that side of him, if it were to exist. Lust is fairly limited, but it is a part of love to some extent. LOVE is vastly different. Love has many languages, and they aren’t all spoken either. For me, personally, I found that Lucifer’s love language can be either very direct, or roundabout so as to not let it go to your head, for an example. Asmo is just far more direct about his care for you.

I feel as though Asmo gets a lot of crap constantly for his presumed nature and because we don’t get to see much else of him at first, especially in season 1, his impression on us sort of stays. With most of the fanbase either somewhat new to the game or somewhere lost in the sea of the difficulty curve that is season 2, we can only assume based on what we’ve seen, and what others have headcanoned about him.

Let’s break and talk about Satan for a moment; this is going somewhere.

I’m led to believe that Satan can control his sin fairly well. He’s easy to get irritated, sure, but he isn’t as much of a walking ball of rage as I suspected. I would argue that, aside from Leviathan, Satan can handle his sin the best out of the brothers. But again, we’re forgetting about Asmo. The Avatar of “Lust”. Like I’ve shown before, he doesn’t really sleep around a lot, according to anon.

At worst, Asmo being flirty is through text and he’s not actively trying to sleep with you. It can be interpreted that way, but for me personally, it comes down to having a friend that is very up close and in your personal space.

(I myself am one of these types of people. Having ADHD, my social cues are always sort of off, and I’ve struggled with coping with it for years. With my best friend, we have seen each other naked countless times and have slept in the same bed as well. We were never romantic with each other. We were just very comfortable being close and personal with each other.)

I’d like to point out also that Asmo isn’t even there for most of season 1 too. Which can give you the idea that maybe he just was out sleeping around a lot, but to me he probably just went out partying a lot. You don’t get known that fast for sleeping around. Maybe in 5,000 years, sure, but I’d imagine being a party boy, as his Devilgram “Guided by Desire” suggests.

So the idea that Asmo isn’t in the house a lot because he’s out having sex all the time isn’t true is it? He’s probably just out partying, which can LEAD to sex with someone sure, but again, Asmo doesn’t feel comfortable doing that, now does he?

I feel like of all the boys, Asmo is the one who radiates with everyone else the most. Most people will never realize how surreal it is that Asmo is faking it until he makes it. He doesn’t always think he’s beautiful, or that he’s worth all the love he’s striving and straining to get. Something that is extremely relatable for a lot of people with self-worth issues. Asmo is just like that, but instead being sarcastic and self-deprecating, he simply works to make himself look as beautiful as possible, so that in his eyes, his beauty matches the affection he gets.

Which is why, when he falls in love with you, it’s strange. You are constantly telling him he’s nice and pretty, but you aren’t lusting after him. You’re just being nice. It may just be me, but when people are overly nice just for the sake of being nice, I’m very attracted to that. That is Asmo, to some extent. The fact that he reflects the insecurities and habits of others so clearly may make others uncomfortable, but that brutal honesty veiled behind insecurity is what a lot of people with self-image issues deal with.

Now for me to share my favorite personal idea for Asmo that completely changed how I saw him in season 1 onwards; Asmodeus is an empath. Now let me explain:

First, what is an Empath?

The term empath comes from empathy, which is the ability to understand the experiences and feelings of others outside of your own perspective. Seems simple, right? Everyone can do this to some extent. However, what makes you an empath is the fact that empaths genuinely feel the same pain as you do. So much so your experience becomes a very personal part of their own. They are capable of being able to feel other people’s emotions without them speaking, or even showing signs of it through their body language.

This would explain, for me personally, why there’s so little of him in season 1. The intensity of what goes on in the house, his sensitive soft-spoken mannerisms, the only time he truly gets mad is when he’s childishly arguing with Mammon? Asmo is afraid of true conflict, he’s afraid of violence and negative emotions. Let’s face it; everyone is indifferent or hates you at the start of the game.

While this changes fairly quickly, all the intense feelings come to a head in chapter 16. All those negative emotions swirling around, of course Asmo isn’t going to want to be in the house when it’s that intense. The attic didn’t just disappear completely, too. Belphie was still in the attic hating humans. That negative emotion could be affecting Asmo and he didn’t know why, so he could have been out of the house more.

Where Asmo can feel the emotions of others, it may mostly be the negative ones because they fill him with anxiety and panic if it persists. Which can be helpful in making him so urgent to want to make others smile and feel better, right?

Imagine being intimate with Asmodeus, and suddenly you aren’t in the mood for it anymore but don’t want to make things awkward. He could pick up on it in an instant and wouldn’t get mad because he understands how you feel completely.

Now to close this out about something that genuinely hurts me; Asmodeus is a narcissist.

I mean, the wiki says that he is, but personally? No, no he isn’t. Since when is loving yourself a bad thing? Sure he may go a bit far sometimes, but people with self-image issues need to go a little harder than the rest to make sure they're getting the love they need.

(Talking about myself AGAIN, but I do this a lot. At random, I will look up in my own mirror in front of my desk that I sit in front of all day and tell myself I am a cute bitch. I am VERY VERY cute and anyone would be lucky to have someone as drop dead gorgeous as myself. I say that a few times a day. In reality, I am very insecure about my looks. I do believe I’m cute, but sometimes it’s hard to say it. Which is why I force myself. Why wouldn’t Asmo do the same?)

Talking yourself up to be as beautiful as a sex god is no easy task, but Asmo isn’t the Avatar of “Lust” for no reason. When an insecure girl talks up her beauty, it’s her being strong and independent. When Asmo does it, its narcissism… it doesn’t really seem fair, now does it? Maybe he’s just an insecure person who needs to tell himself ALL THE TIME that he’s beautiful. That if he stares at his reflection long enough, he may see it too.

(Also, Simeon literally calls him out on being insecure. Insecure people tend to try and overcompensate where they feel they’re lacking.)

”Asmodeus is hinted to be insecure and seeking for love and attention. When Simeon was asked about what he thought of Asmodeus, he says that Asmodeus is still trying to fulfill the role of the angel he used to be; an angel that was adored and loved by many. Asmodeus laughs at Simeon's remark and brushes it off by saying that he is only jealous.” - A section from said Asmodeus Wiki.

People can choose to love or hate Asmo, obviously. Making things up about his character without having anything but speculation and having that dictate how he acts is plain silly. This entire “essay” if you can call it that, comes from the heart. I love Asmo as a character, and in the beginning he did make me uncomfortable, I didn’t like him that much. But I learned to look past that and figure out why he acts the way he does. Something didn’t sit right with me about him for a while, and it was that air of insecurity that I didn’t see at first.

All I can really ask for, is giving Asmo another chance as a character. He’s not as wild and wacky as Mammon, or as cool and sexy as Lucifer, or as edgy and precious as Belphie, but he matters in this story too. He fell from grace with his brothers for Lilith. Give him another chance, and let him show you that he is the Avatar of Love.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #om!#om! swd #om! asmo #om! asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #Thanks for 400 followers!

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years ago

Text

The Love Yet Known Part 3

Summary: Tommy Shelby needs to make sacrifices to ensure the safety of his family. So he concocts a plan to marry off his sister to the one and only Alfie Solomons.

Late that summer after everything was settled with Luca Changretta, Tommy invited Eliza and Alfie to visit Arrow House in Warwickshire. Since Tommy was the one who initiated it, he figured it would be a nice, quiet few days. Charlie clearly missed his aunt dearly. The little boy was used to always having her around to entertain him. He always asked after her and became cross when Tommy said she was married, that’s why she didn’t live with them anymore.

“Well, when is she not going to be married?” Charlie would ask.

Tommy just chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t think there will ever be a day when that happens, my boy.”

No one was blind to the growing affection Eliza and Alfie had from their wedding day on. In fact, it was quite a sight to see when the two were together. Such a shy thing like Eliza had a calming effect on Alfie, who rarely seemed to be in a sour mood when she was around. Likewise, he seemed to bring Eliza out of her shell a little bit. She had many friends in Camden and found herself more active in the community than she ever imagined she would be.

Tommy never gloated, well he tried not to, but he liked to boast about how he made the match between Eliza and Alfie.

Still, Arthur and a few of the other Peaky boys were having a hard time accepting Alfie into their sacred spaces. They considered him their sister’s husband, not a brother-in-law. They had a petty habit of writing to Eliza and addressing it with her maiden name. Arthur felt sick to his stomach if he saw his dear sister’s name next to a name like Solomons.

Alfie wasn’t very hospitable either. He wouldn’t let go of old habits of trying to rile Arthur up. He only ever invited a few of Eliza’s family members to visit them in Camden. None of them even knew the married couple shared a beachfront home in Margate. Alfie would shudder to think if the Shelbys got an idea of inviting themselves over for a holiday.

But all things considered, life was going well.

~~~~~~~

Alfie helped Eliza out of the car. “This place gets bigger every time I visit; I swear it does.” He muttered.

His wife laughed softly. “Well, hopefully, you don’t get lost.”

Charlie came running outside to greet his aunt. “Auntie Liza!”

“Hello!” Eliza beamed and stooped down to pick her nephew up.

“Oh, love, be careful.” Alfie winced. It was a good thing Eliza wasn’t easily irritated. Because once Alfie found out she was pregnant, he became overprotective. He insisted on carrying things for her, let her sleep in as long as she liked, and had someone come in to take over any housekeeping duties that she might’ve done. Not that Eliza was keen on keeping anything clean anyway. Alfie knew he was being annoying, but he wanted to make sure that his child and the mother of that child was well kept. He felt it was his duty to ensure their safety and health.

Charlie gave Alfie a side-eye. “Hi, Uncle Alfie.” He said in a less jovial voice.

“You well, Charlie?”

“Mhm.” The little boy shrugged.

Eliza set him down and reached for her suitcase but Alfie stepped in. “I’ve got it. Go on ahead.”

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and followed Charlie inside to find Tommy.

~~~~~~~~~

At dinner that night, it was just the four of them. Tommy, Lizzie, Alfie, and Eliza. They chatted casually about things, nothing too consequential. Then, during dessert, Eliza felt it was a good enough time to tell them.

“So, Alfie and I have news.” Eliza reached for her husband’s hand under the table and gave him a smile.

“You’re pregnant.” Tommy finished for her.

Alfie’s brow furrowed. “And what on Earth gave you that impression?” He snapped. He knew how important and special it was for Eliza to tell everyone about the baby, so Alfie was a bit ticked off that Tommy had affectively ruined the moment.

Tommy glanced up from his whiskey glass. “Am I wrong?”

“Well…no.”

“But how did you know?” Alfie asked again.

“Because of the way you’ve been acting around her. Anyone could tell if they’ve known you long enough, Alfie.” Tommy answered casually. “I haven’t seen her carry anything at all today.”

Eliza just chuckled. “Well, I didn’t know we made it that obvious.”

“You and I will have a lot to talk about then,” Lizzie spoke up.

“Why? Oh…oh really?” Eliza’s eyes lit up. “You’re pregnant?”

The two sisters-in-law got up to hug one another. Surely it was special knowing there was someone else walking a similar path. After all, it’s not like their husbands knew what it felt like.

“Well, seems we’ll be coming around much more often then, Tom.” Alfie sighed. Well, if his wife was happy, then he would drive her back and forth from London to Warwickshire as many times as she liked.

~~~~~~~~~

Lizzie gave birth to Ruby when Eliza was still seven months along. Seeing and holding the baby girl in her arms was such a lovely occasion. It was almost like a hint at what was to come. It would be much more surreal though, that’s what Lizzie told her.

“It’s so strange holding her. All of a sudden, you’ve got this little life. One you’ve waited so long to hold and she’s yours to care for and love. It’s really overwhelming.” Her sister-in-law tried to explain as best she could.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Now all there was to do was wait a little longer. The nursery was all set up and ready. Meanwhile, the midwife was on call whenever the first signs of labor came.

In the blistering cold of February, Eliza was due any day. Alfie started to work from home just in case she went into labor and he needed to be there for her. He didn’t get out of bed as early, but he was awake much earlier than his wife on most mornings.

It was a peaceful time where he could just bask in the warm feelings of holding his beloved wife close to him, all cuddled up in bed. Cyril keeping their feet warm at the end of the bed. His soft breathing sometimes syncing up to Eliza’s heartbeat.

Alfie would wrap an arm around her waist, resting a hand over her swollen stomach. There, he could feel his child kicking. The emotions that overcame him when he felt that little pressure against his hand were indescribable. He was thrilled, excited, nervous, afraid. He didn’t know how he would measure up as a father. Didn’t know how his line of work would impact the life of his child.

Every possible worst-case scenario had run through his head since Eliza told him she was pregnant. His worst fear was losing her and the baby. Or losing the baby and having to cope with their shared grief. Or losing Eliza and having to be a single father while grieving his wife.

The possibilities kept him up at night, practically driving him mad with anxiety. But then there were the good thoughts. The joy he would feel when he first held his child. The pride of seeing every milestone from first words to first steps.

It was overwhelming to think about and it didn’t help that the wait was making him even more anxious.

~~~~~~~~~

But finally, the day came when Eliza gave birth to a healthy baby boy. It was a relief to hear that his wife and son were both going to be perfectly fine. As Alfie climbed the stairs to see them, he felt his hands trembling with anxiety and anticipation.

What if he did something wrong?

What if Eliza thought he wasn’t a good father?

What if he just wasn’t enough?

All the self-deprecating thoughts seemed to vanish into thin air when he saw his son swaddled in his mother’s arms.

Eliza gave her husband a tired smile. “He’s beautiful, Alfie.” She whispered with tears in her eyes.

Alfie walked over to the bed and peered over. “Fucking hell, look at all that hair, aye?” He chuckled with tears welling up in his eyes as well. “Look at him, he’s about as perfect as you can get, ain’t he?” He kissed Eliza’s forehead. “I can’t ever repay you for giving me such a perfect gift.”

“I think you can with a few dozen nappy changes.” She teased back.

“Done deal.” He grinned and gently cradled his son’s head.

“You can hold him.”

Alfie’s nerves pricked at him again as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Eliza gently placed the newborn in his arms, looking over him with such fondness.

“There you are.” He said softly. “Been waiting quite some time for you, mate.”

Eliza rested her cheek on her husband’s shoulder as he spoke to their son. “What should we name him?” She asked.

They had passed around a few names over the course of her pregnancy but none of them particularly stood out to either of them.

“How about Asher?”

“Is that Jewish?” Eliza asked.

Alfie nodded. “Means blessed. Was one of the twelve tribes of Israel, back in ancient times.”

She smiled. Truly, she felt blessed. Not just by the birth of her son, but by everything. She had found her soulmate, fell in love with him, married him, and now produced such a beautiful little boy. Her heart felt so full in her chest. “I love it. I think it’s absolutely perfect.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A month after Asher was born, Eliza brought up the idea of bringing him to Warwickshire to meet her family. Tommy was apparently arranging a dinner to bring the whole family together. That way they could catch up on things without being busy with work and the children could all see their cousins.

Alfie bristled at the idea. It was one thing to spend a couple of days with just Tommy and Lizzie. But to be around the whole Shelby family, it was not a pleasant thought. He almost felt as if he’d be alone, surrounded by people who didn’t quite trust him. People he didn’t really trust either.

“Won’t be a pleasant trip, tryna get there with a newborn.” He thought of the mistake on the fly.

“It’ll be fine, it’s not too far and I’m sure Asher will sleep the whole way there. If he doesn’t then it isn’t the end of the world.” Eliza assumed her husband was just concerned about the baby’s sake.

“Dunno…”

“Then maybe we invite everyone here. It’ll be a little crowded but we’ll make it work.” She suggested to eliminate the idea of traveling.

Having the Shelbys in his space, his territory was an even worse idea. “Tommy’s place is big enough, we ain’t gonna have that many people over here.”

“So…” She looked at him. “Then we’ll go to Tommy’s.”

Alfie didn’t want to outright say he didn’t want to be around her family. He was afraid it might break her heart. But he wasn’t going to pretend that it was a joy to be around them either. He stifled a groan, feeling backed into a corner for sure. “I mean…if it’ll make you happy, love.”

“I want to see Ruby and I want everyone to meet Asher.” She replied, able to hold her ground against him when she chose to. “So yes, it would make me happy.”

There was no arguing that. His wife’s happiness was one of the few things that mattered to him. “Alright then, we’ll go. I won’t be a bother about it.” He promised, earning a smile and a kiss from him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Asher slept through most of the car ride over to Warwickshire. Eliza appeared happy to be seeing her family and to introduce them to her son.

The sun was starting to set as they entered the estate. Alfie felt on his guard as he walked in beside Eliza, already hearing the colorful language coming in from the parlor. There was laughing and yelling coming from upstairs, most likely the children playing with one another.

Polly saw them coming in first and rushed over to embrace her niece. “Look at you. Motherhood suits you, my dear.” She turned to Alfie who was holding his son. “And there he is. Looks very healthy. You must be very proud, Alfie.”

“Yeah.” He smiled slightly. Leave it to Polly to get on his good side even when he was tense. “He’s a lot of work, ain’t he, but it’s rewarding.”

Polly could see the hesitation in Alfie’s eyes. He was holding Asher protectively to his chest, his eyes scanning across the room almost looking for potential threats. She decided he would have to warm up to the idea of handing his son over for anyone to hold.

Eliza didn’t appear to catch onto her husband’s discomfort. “Alfie, I’ll take him.”

“S’alright, love. I don’t mind.”

“Well, let Polly hold him for a bit.” She suggested.

“It’s alright,” Polly replied gently to her niece. “You two make yourselves at home. I’ll get you a drink, love. Alfie would you like something?”

“No, thank you.” He replied a bit relieved that Polly hadn’t pushed the matter.

But then Arthur swooped in and gave his sister a bear hug. “Glad you came, chey.”

Eliza giggled and hugged him back. “Hi, Arthur.”

“Good to see ya. Now, where’s the little one, aye?” The eldest Shelby’s eyes settled on Alfie with a look of slight distaste.

Eliza stepped in to try and keep the atmosphere light and festive. “This is Asher, he just turned a month old.” She reached over to adjust the little cap on the newborn’s head. His dark hair was sticking out from underneath it.

“A month already.” Arthur shook his head. “Well, wish we could’ve been there earlier.” He gave his brother-in-law a stern look. As if Alfie was purposefully keeping Eliza hidden away in Camden Town to keep her away from her family.

“Arthur…” She sighed. But it was too late. The powder keg had already been lit.

“Well, mate, it weren’t the easiest delivery. Eliza had to take a bit of time to recover.”

“If Pol had been there like she wanted then maybe it wouldn’t have been so difficult.” Arthur wasn’t standing down from the challenge. In fact, he welcomed a reason to argue.

“Arthur, that’s enough.” His aunt interrupted. “We’ve had this discussion before but it’s over. The baby’s already born.”

But neither man listened to a voice of reason. “She had the best midwife in Camden Town there. Are you insinuating I wouldn’t get the best for me wife?”

“I’m saying you’ve been keeping our sister from seeing her family.”

“She’s got a mind of her own, mate, she can go wherever she wants whenever she wants.” Alfie crossed his arms over his chest.

“Please, will you two just stop?” Eliza begged.

“Did she have a choice when Tommy sold her off to you?” Arthur’s voice raised and Eliza knew she had to step in before the rest of the party started to take notice of the brewing storm between her brother and husband.

“Alright, enough. You two are making a scene and it’s ridiculous.” She took Asher from Alfie’s arms when he was caught off guard and handed the baby to Polly. Before her husband could protest, she grabbed his arm and dragged him into another empty room of Arrow House.

“You’re just going to leave him?” Alfie spat.

“With my aunt who I trust with my life? Yes!” She snapped in an exasperated tone. “What on Earth has gotten into you? I thought this would be a nice visit, I didn’t think I had to tell you to be on your best behavior. But apparently, I should’ve because you’re acting like a child!”

“Your brother started it!” His normally soft-spoken wife gave him a death glare. Alfie backtracked when he realized the childish response was exactly what Eliza was talking about. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “I just don’t like him treating me that way. Like I’m some monster who kidnapped you.”

“Oh, Alfie.” She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him close. “You know Arthur and you know that’s not true. You’ve given me everything and I’ve never been so happy. But we can’t make them see that. If they don’t see it then that’s their fault.” She kissed his cheek. “We know the truth.”

He grumbled. Of course, she was right, seldom was she wrong. It just didn’t help that when they went back to the party, Arthur would still be the same. “M’trying, love.”

“I know you are.” She smiled. “They’re difficult. But you are too.”

He chuckled. There was no arguing that.

“But now Asher is sort of a buffer. You just have to let them hold him.”

Alfie looked disgruntled. He knew intuitively that none of the Shelbys would bring harm to the child. But there was still that protective instinct that he could never totally shake. If he let his guard down, bad things happened. The only time that wasn’t the case was when he was alone with Eliza and Asher. That quiet space where everything good in the world seemed to line up. Nothing outside of their warm home mattered.

“Alright.” He relented. It seemed reasonable that if he played along, the sooner they would be out of there.

Eliza smiled and kissed him softly. “Try to enjoy yourself.” She said before going to return to the party.

~~~~~~~~~

Alfie followed and found Polly was still holding Asher. But Ada and Lizzie were cooing over the baby. Tommy was sat next to his aunt, holding Ruby and smiling at his new nephew. Even Arthur was nearby smiling at Asher.

Alfie did his best not to hover even when his son was passed from relative to relative. It seemed to make Eliza happy to see her family holding her newborn. She spoke proudly about him. The meaning of his name, his blue eyes, how much Cyril adored him, and everything else that had happened in his short life.

After a while, Alfie began to relax slightly. Although he always kept an eye out to see who was holding Asher.

Toward the end of the night, his son was finally placed back in his arms. Asher was fast asleep despite the Shelbys having a good time with a good amount of alcohol. Alfie gently touched his cheek with his thumb. “They can be exhausting, aye?” He murmured quietly. “Better get used to it I suppose. Don’t think they’re going anywhere.”

Asher yawned and shifted slightly in his swaddle.

Alfie glanced up when he heard someone clear their throat. Arthur was standing nearby, a glass of whiskey in hand. “Mind if I sit?” He gestured to the empty armchair near the sofa Alfie was sitting on.

“Ain’t my house, mate.”

Arthur shrugged and sat down. “So, how does it feel, aye? Must get no sleep with him. And Liza, I doubt she ever gets up. Would take a train to wake her when she was younger.”

It was a strange olive branch but Alfie chuckled. “Yeah, it’s tough tryna get her up to nurse him. S’alright though. Never been a big sleeper myself.” He admitted.

“Yeah, war will do that to you.” Arthur agreed after a sip of whiskey.

They were so similar, it was a wonder that they butted heads so often. They were veterans with deep scars, liked to solve problems with their fists, hardly flinched at death, and yet fiercely cared about their kin. But bad blood was hard to wash out, especially in their line of work.

“I’d always be up with Billy when he was that young. It’s good, keeps your mind busy.” He added.

“They’re a good distraction.” Alfie nodded, looking down at his son. “Changes a lot of perspectives on life.”

Arthur looked across the room to see Eliza smiling at him. Of course, she’d put him up to it, insisting that if he wanted to see more of her, he would be nicer to her husband. Arthur complained but she wasn’t hearing it. It seemed that marriage and motherhood had really taught her when to put her foot down. But sitting there with his brother-in-law, Arthur seemed to realize that there wasn’t much else he could do. Here they were, both fathers to a son, both husbands. They were too old to be the vicious fighters they were as young men. It was too tiring.

Alfie came to a similar conclusion. They could fight about the same things that happened so long ago. There wasn’t anything new to argue about. Just the grudges they both held. Which were equally as tiring. “Here.” He held Asher out.

Arthur looked a bit surprised but decided not to make a scene out of it. He set his whiskey glass down and cradled his nephew to his chest. “Looks like Liza when she was a baby.” He chuckled. “She had so much hair. Our mother was shocked. I hope he doesn’t cry as much as she did. God, she was noisier than John ever was.” His eyes saddened at the mention of Eliza’s twin. It felt like ages ago that they’d lost John and yet, it was still so fresh.

“That’s his middle name, you know,” Alfie said. “Asher John.”

Arthur got a little choked up. “He’d be thrilled if he was here.” He tried to laugh off his grief but it was obvious how much it hurt. “Don’t think he’d ever stop bragging about it.”

Eliza came over, so happy to see the two men getting along for the first time ever. She kissed Alfie’s temple as she sat down next to him.

A quiet lull fell over the room. The warm chatter of family radiated with the fire and drinks. Alfie felt his shoulders relax while he wrapped an arm around Eliza’s shoulders. Things could be okay if he allowed them to be. So he did.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe @evelynshelby

PB Masterlist

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomonsxoc #alfie solomonsxofc #tommy shelby #tommy shelbyxlizzie stark #polly gray #arthur shelby #lizzie stark #charles shelby #ruby shelby #oc #ofc #john shelby #season 4 #season 5 #tom hardy #tom hardy character #tom hardy fanfiction

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silkylious · 5 years ago

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Safe (Kaminari Denki x Reader)

Warnings: slight angst/insecurities, comfort, fluff Pairing: kaminari denki x reader Prompt: #58 “You make me feel safe”

A/N: idk why but i hc that kaminari is actually very insecure but jokes around and shit as a coping mechanism. can you sense the self projection here. hope you enjoy this, it was very fun to write!

You sprung forward, eyes wide awake with alarm. Your mind struggled to catch up with your body; phantom sensations still lingering on your skin, static scenes of vibrant blue flames scorched into your brain as your heavy breaths died down into a slightly more regulated rhythm. This was the fifth time this week. It’s been two full months since the training camp, two full months since you’ve moved into the dorms and you still weren’t over it yet. The nightmares just wouldn’t stop.

You plopped back down on the mattress, exasperated and thoroughly annoyed at having your precious slumber cut short. Again. Honestly, for such a prestigious school, U.A. has probably the worst counseling team you’ve ever seen– or haven’t seen, because despite several of your classmates showing painfully obvious signs of trauma, the school staff has barely stepped in. You huffed at the administration’s incompetence, turning on your side to glare at nothing in particular. A ping interrupted your train of thought, drawing your attention to the device laying on your nightstand. You snatched your phone, unlocking it and immediately squinting at the brightness before checking the time. Three in the morning. Who the hell would text you at ass o’clock in the morning? You knew who.

Pika pika⚡: [image] [image] [image]

some maymays for when you wake up 😌😌

You: they’re called memes ffs

Pika pika⚡: you’re awake??👀

You: no.

The message was left on seen, though the interface of the messaging up was replaced by that of an incoming call. You rolled your eyes, though a slight smile stretched your tired features at the picture of you and Kaminari grinning at the camera. You accepted the call.

“Why are you up?” His voice came through mildly distorted but still as loud as ever, too loud for three in the fucking morning.

“Can’t sleep,” Your answer was slightly muffled by a yawn, betraying just how exhausted you were. The silence that proceeded was deafening, neither of you uttering a word, but you could faintly hear his even breathing. It was oddly calming. You sigh, lids blinking to fight off your drowsiness.

“…You’re still having nightmares?” Words tinged with worry, his voice was much quieter now, gentler. If anything, Kaminari was a great friend. He’d proven that to you time and time again. He was the only one that could tell when you were drowning in hushed misery, seeing through your well-constructed front like it was second nature to him. For someone so astoundingly moronic, he was extremely socially intelligent, and even observant when he wanted to be. And for the umptieth time, he’s showing you just how easily he could pick up on the small traces of discomfort in your voice, the silent plea left unspoken from your lips.

“Yeah…” The reply didn’t come out as resolute as you’d wished it would have been. But it couldn’t be helped. No matter how hard you willed yourself to level your tone in hopes of fending off his concerns, you knew it would all crumble at some point. Go figure your strong façade would fall apart in front of him. It’s always been him. For some reason unknown to you (yet), confiding in him just felt right, secure.

More silence ensued.

Denki was a natural at detecting people’s emotions, but that’s as far as his expertise would go. Sure, he knew how to encourage others, pushing them past their insecurities was as easy as breathing to him. With bright, golden hues and an obnoxiously dorky grin, all he had to do was utter a few optimistic words and that would get the job done. But comfort? Vulnerability? That was so far beyond the shallow waters he’d grown accustomed to. Sentimentalities weren’t his thing, he simply didn’t posses the wisdom and eloquence needed to deal with such situations. His immediate reaction would be to crack a joke, fruitless attempts at lightening the mood but he knew there was a time and place for jests, and this wasn’t one of them. Awkwardness and half-hearted jabs were his immediate reaction… because that’s how he dealt with his own problems too.

“Hey… can I come over? We can play animal crossing or something,” You sure as shit wouldn’t be able to sleep, not in this state. You needed a distraction. A friend.

“What if we get caught?”

“Would you even care if we got caught?”

A light chuckle. “No,”

“Exactly. I’ll be there in a bit.”

The line went dead, he stared at the blank screen of his phone before flopping onto his back. Why you’d be so open with him of all people when he saw just how uneasy around his other classmates, he didn’t know. The list of people he thought were more deserving of your trust was almost unending, and he wasn’t even close to the top of it. One thought brought forward another, each one getting progressively more deprecative, and the sloppily sewn patch over his self-doubt started to tear, ripped off its poorly embedded stitches. He was confident in himself, until he joined class 1-A that is. He just felt… there compared to his peers. His body was nothing to laugh at, but his build was still considerably lean compared to the people he was around. The fact that such a talented, hardworking person had taken interest in him was frankly baffling. He wasn’t as flashy as Todoroki, or as powerful as Bakugo, or as brainy as Midoriya. He was just him. Lackluster, average him. It only added insult to injury when he’d witnessed how they looked at you. They pined for you, and he couldn’t blame them. He craved you too. But god, the nagging thought that you were wasting your time hanging around someone like him, that he was stealing you away from people who were (in his opinion) glaringly more worthy of cherishing you than him, it just wouldn’t go away. You had so many stronger, smarter, better options out there that he couldn’t help but be reminded of how lacking– inadequate he was compared to seemingly everyone else. And yet you chose to get close to him. In a superhuman class full to the brim with prodigies and workaholics, you picked him. It didn’t make the slightest bit of sense.

He was fished into reality and away from his sea of self-doubt when he heard three consecutive knocks on his door. Just how long had he laid there, wallowing?

The door creaked open and you were greeted with the glorious sight of Kaminari in a Pikachu onesie, a ruffled (adorable) tuft of electric, blonde hair peeking out from under the hood. You snorted.

“Nice pj’s,”

Denki blinked, looking down only to realize that he hadn’t changed out of his onesie because of his overthinking session. An embarrassed chuckle escaped him as he scratched at the side of his cheek, a lopsided smile and a cherry tint creeping up his complexion.

“What can I say, I always have to be on brand.”

You loved that about him. He seemed so laid-back, uncaring, willing to roll with whatever punches were thrown at him, playing off jocular comments and rude insults alike with practiced ease. Giggling past him, you situated on his bed, ready to forget about your nightmares and just have fun with your friend. And if Denki was a genius at anything, it was having fun.

Hours flew by at the pace of minutes, it was now six in the morning, the sun had begun to show its yellow glow and you’d spent the entirety of dawn kicking Kaminari’s butt at Mario kart, sharing laughs and fleeting touches. He liked this, you liked this. Despite knowing that he wasn’t by any means the best suitor for you, he couldn’t halt the need to monopolize you. How could he, when your very presence (unbeknownst to you) shoved his insecurities unceremoniously into the backseat in favor of enjoying the moment with you? He hadn’t a clue how you did it, but you always managed to shoo away his doubts just by being there, and he selfishly couldn’t (and wouldn’t) let go of that. You immersed him in riveting ventures of the now, miles and acres away from his overbearing thoughts. All without even trying, without even knowing it.

It was the weekend (thank fuck) and sleeping in sounded like heaven on earth right now. If it weren’t for your nightmares. The fear of recounting those horrid memories in horrific detail again barred your eyes from sleep, regardless of how spent you were. Apparently, Denki’s spidey-friendship senses kicked in again, because he immediately noticed the apprehension on your face, the stiffness in your movements as you were preparing to leave. He knew exactly what was up with you, and he couldn’t let you leave like that, it would eat him up for days. He grabbed your wrist as you turned for the door.

“Do you wanna stay?”

Maybe it was your exhausted mind finally turning into mush, or maybe it was the softness in his voice, the docile concern in his eyes that made you agree on staying. Your compliance surprised you both, honestly. You were both very aware that you wouldn’t have accepted the offer had it been anyone else. But in retrospect it seemed rational. After all, throughout the whole night, not once did you think back to the horrors that would visit you in your sleep, not once did you feel the crippling anxiety clawing at the frayed edges of your psyche. Instead you felt secure, sound. Safe. And you came to an epiphany. Maybe it wasn’t the idea of sleep that scared you, maybe it was the impending loneliness, isolation and uncertainty that you’d often experience without him.

“Yes,”

You laid there, facing each other, a considerable distance between you. No words exchanged, yet you could tell there was a lot on his mind. He decided to voice it all in one question. He knew you were smart enough to catch the underlying self-doubt in his vaguely worded inquiry. Whether you pointed it out or not was entirely up to you, however.

“Why did you say yes to me?”

The articulation caught you off guard, you’d never seen him so… unsure before. Your mind raced with the different possible implications behind his wording, though you decided to quell them all with one single sentence. You smiled, soft and lazy, moving closer to seek out some of his warmth.

“You make me feel safe, Denki.”

And he really did. Even though you came to the revelation mere minutes ago, you accepted it swimmingly, it felt right to do so. It startled you how ready you were to embrace the newfound feelings, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Kaminari was stunned, to say the least. He hadn’t expected that response from you and he honestly still couldn’t rationalize it completely either. But for now, the budding feeling in his heart trumped over his ever-present uncertainty, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #denki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #kaminari denki #denki kaminari imagine #bnha kaminari #self indulgent writing yayayya #god the projection is heavyy in this one

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midoriyas-wifey · 5 years ago

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best to worst bnha yanderes for a darling that uses humor to cope (like i would):

BEST

Kaminari: He’s for sure a himbo in the pro!au (don’t come for me he’s got muscles watch the pool episode 👀) and he’s the most delusional of pretty much anyone at least in class 1A. Like if his darling were to start cracking jokes about the situation he’d take that more as a show of acceptance rather than coping, mich to the dismay of his darling. so maybe he isn’t the best?? i guess he’s the best in the sense that he doesn’t get mad about it. he just. doesn’t get that you’re not genuinely amused with him or the situation.

@shorkbrian I wanted to tag you in my Kirishima part: He’s also a shameless himbo. He’s more aware than Kaminari, but not near as much as Sero. He thinks your joking with him is a cute and awkward way that you’re trying to get comfortable with him. He knows in the beginning that you aren’t happy to be there, but he take the joking as a sign to start pushing the boundaries. Surely you won’t mind if he takes a few... liberties while you’re busy giggling?

@reinawritesbnha I wanted to tag you in my Sero part: Sero would be the next best at least when it came to rolling with the punches of your behavior and offsetting jokes. Unlike Kaminari he’s pretty lucid and knows what he’s doing is wrong and doesn’t like that. The jokes make him fee guilty because he knows that you’re hurting and scared and obviously fear his reaction to a more direct expression of not wanting to be there. However, no matter how much he tries, he can’t find enough guilt within himself to set you free...

Midoriya: He’s completely lucid and relishes in his superior intellect and power and control. He knows that his darling’s jokes are to cope with the traumatizing situation and that they’re not genuine displays of amusement. He thinks it’s adorable, truly. How you try so desperately to hide your fear and malcontent at his hands behind a curtain of nervous, loud laughter and self deprecating jabs, humbling yourself before him in hopes that he wouldn’t make you grovel at his feet. He enjoys the little sketches of yours, he always knew you were an entertainer at heart.

@burnedbyshoto I wanted to tag you in my Shoto part: So basically Shoto’s reaction is as follows: 👁👄👁. We know this man no matter the au just doesn’t get humor. He’s about as charismatic and intentionally funny as a mushroom. Unintentionally? Hilarious; but that’s not the point. Unlike the others he doesn’t even get that you’re joking in the first place and lowkey highkey worries about the way that you talk to yourself. He takes your manufactured light mood for a real one. You’ve only been here a week but you’re already goofin like you’ve been here for months? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Far be it from Shoto to question it. He can get upset however if he feels like you aren’t taking him seriously, which has led to a few spankings. Best for his darling to learn his limits quick.

Finally we have the most unhappy little bastard: Bakugou. He hates the joking, but he understands why you do it. He’s lucid enough to know that you’re not really ok with everything that’s going on, but so long as you do as you’re told he ultimately will tolerate your shitty jokes. He can get snippy if he feels like you’re joking too much or not taking him seriously. His darling had better be careful though, because one slight jab to his ego, no matter how obviously filled with humor it is will set him OFF. You had better start praying to whatever god you believe in because he will put you in your place below him by whatever means necessary.

WORST

#yandere bnha #yandere kaminari x reader #yandere kirishima x reader #yandere sero x reader #yandere bakugou x reader #yandere shoto x reader #yandere midoriya x reader #yandere deku x reader #bnha imagines #bnha headcanons

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nkatr84 · 4 years ago

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Obi Wan/female reader one shot : Waiting part 1/2

When the reader is sixteen, she starts working as a waitress at Dex’s Diner. On her first day, she meets the love of her life. There’s just one problem. He’s a Jedi...

It had been a hectic first day. But you wouldn’t complain. Dex liked that about you. You just did what you were told. Buckled down, smiled at customers and only messed up one order so far. You just prayed to the Force that your natural clumsiness wouldn’t flare up.

The Force had a sense of humor.

One minute Dex had left the kitchens to chat with an old friend. Ordering a round of milkshakes. After setting the third milkshake on the tray, you carefully brought it out of the kitchen. But no sooner had you stepped out into the main dining room, the door of the kitchen swung forward knocking into your feet.

Your feet tripped over themselves and as your body twisted you gasped, seeing the tray flying, the milkshakes up in the air. But as you braced yourself for impact, you felt a pair of strong arms catch you.

You peeked open one eye. Then both eyes opened as you took in the sparkling blue eyes looking down at you in concern. It was a boy about your age. And he was gorgeous. Chiseled jaw just losing its baby fat. A perfect nose. You noticed two moles. One on his cheek and one on his forehead. Your heart hammered in your chest.

“Are you alright?” He gently asked, his voice a smooth, refined accent of the upper levels of Coruscant.

“Never better...” you gasped catching your breath. But then you noticed his haircut. Auburn hair buzzcut short, except for one single small braid hanging over his shoulder. Brow furrowed, you realized you hadn’t heard the milkshakes crash to the floor. You glanced around to confirm your suspicions. The milkshakes and tray were floating in midair.

And despite the romance the imagery of being dipped over his knee conjured, reality finally crashed in to ruin the moment. Your savior was a Jedi padawan.

“Hey hey! Looks like your Padawan has good reflexes Qui Gon!” Chuckled Dex from the booth.

Across from him, a tall Jedi with long graying brown hair nodded in amusement,

“One should hope so. Alright Obi Wan I think the poor girl can stand on her own feet again.”

The padawan Obi Wan blushed and righted you on your feet,

“Yes Master.”

“And you can stop showing off. It’s an inappropriate use of the Force.” Qui Gon added, a small wink towards Dex who chuckled, his four arms crossed over his shaking belly.

“Sorry Master.” Obi Wan flushed again, waving his hand. The milkshakes righted themselves and floated over to the table. Obi Wan plucked the tray from midair and handed it to you.

“Thank you.” You said, voice shy and small, eyes cast to your feet.

“You’re welcome.” Obi Wan nodded before sliding into the booth next to his Master. You nodded, returning to your other customers. But not without one last glance over your shoulder at the handsome padawan. It just wasn’t fair.

You tried to forget about the Jedi. But blue eyes haunted your dreams at night. Your mind reasonsed with yourself that the Jedi had a code that forbid attachments. But that didn’t stop your foolish heart from pounding in your chest every time Qui Gon and Obi Wan stopped by the diner for lunch.

It was no use. Having a stupid crush on a Jedi was just part of your reality now. Dex noticed of course. He thought it was hilarious. He made you wait on them every time. You were beginning to suspect he made your schedule out to guarantee you would be working when they came in. You didn’t know how. Especially when they started to go away on more missions and wouldn’t be back for weeks at a time. Once for a whole year. Not that you were counting the days or worrying or anything...

The only way you could cope with the crush was self deprecation. Telling yourself that even if he wasn’t a Jedi, Obi Wan wouldn’t give you a second glance. Oh he was polite and asked how you were, making conversation. But everyone else pretty much ignored you. You even had a customer point out one day that you just had one of those faces that just blended in.

You didn’t think you were ugly. But being a little short and your figure being a bit on the plump side you also weren’t kidding yourself. You guessed that was why you longed for Obi Wan like you did. You couldn’t have him anyway, so you might as well dream of the impossible.

But you also wished someone would want you like you wanted Obi Wan.

In a blink of an eye three years had past. And one day Obi Wan came in by himself. That was new.

“Hey! Obi Wan! Where’s Qui Gon?” Dex wiped his hands on his apron. Your heart twisted at the pained look on his face. Noting how red his eyes were.

“Obi Wan?” Dex pressed, suspicion growing with dread.

“He...fell in battle.” Obi Wan swallowed.

Dex shut his yellow eyes.

“Close the door Kid. We’re closing early today.” The grayish tan alien told you, pain evident.

“Sure Dex.” You nodded crossing over to flip the sign. You were the only waitress working today. Even your droid waitress FLO was out for maintenance. You hadn’t even had a customer all day until Obi Wan came in. The sky rumbled with thunder, the rain matching the mood.

“I’ll take my leave then.” Obi Wan nodded.

“No you sit. We’re going to honor my friend.” Dex let out a shuddering breath, entering the kitchen.

“Will he be alright?” Obi Wan asked you. You jumped hearing a roar of rage and pots crash to the floor.

“He will be. Just give him a minute.” You told him.

Obi Wan nodded then took a seat in his usual booth. Keeping to the edge as if Qui Gon was still beside him.

“Are you alright?” You asked, sliding into the booth across from him.

Obi Wan gave a stiff nod,

“Of course. A Jedi must accept death as a part of life. Less he fall to the Dark side.”

You lifted your brows. That sounded rehearsed. As if he were clinging to that mantra like a life preserver.

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt.” You pointed out.

“No it doesn’t.” He conceded. You then noticed his padawan braid was gone.

“Were you knighted?” You asked.

He scoffed,

“Yeah. The council felt that anybody that can kill a Sith Lord after a thousand years needs to be a Knight.”

“A Sith Lord?” You asked. Obi Wan began to tell you the story. Of the Trade Federation setting up a blockade on Naboo and how they had tried to kill Qui Gon and Obi Wan when they came to negotiate for the Republic. Saving the Naboo Queen and the detour to Tatooine. The discovery of a boy named Anakin with a high M count, strong in the Force. Wicked political plots and the wicked Sith Darth Maul dueling both Qui Gon and Obi Wan. Qui Gon’s death and Obi Wan killing the Sith. Of Qui Gon making Obi Wan promise to train Anakin.

“So I was knighted and now Anakin is my padawan. I don’t know if I’m ready.” He confesses to you.

“Qui Gon believed you were.” You point out.

“Qui Gon also believed Anakin is the Chosen One.” Obi Wan sighed.

“Chosen One?”

“The one meant to bring balance to the Force. Don’t get me wrong. Qui Gon was an excellent teacher. I’m confident that he’s taught me well. But how can the kid that was once destined for the Argricore teach the Chosen One?” He asked.

Your heart swelled. So your Jedi Knight doubted himself too. Why was that so endearing? Maybe because it made your stubborn heart believed you were connected.

But Obi Wan needed a friend. So a friend you would be. You squeezed his hand on the table.

“With patience. Kindness. Devotion. All the qualities that Qui Gon saw in you.” You said.

He gave a small smile, eyes still sad,

“Thank you.”

Dex interrupted you, already swaying on his feet from the Spotcha he had stored in his office. The Besalisk poured a round of shots and you all toasted to Qui Gon. That night Obi Wan helped you get Dex home, who was in no condition to drive. Then he walked you home after the rain let up.

The next ten years you’d think of that night whenever you had a bad date or another Life Day went by alone. Oh you tried to date. But no one made you feel the way Obi Wan did.

You had one steady boyfriend once. A good man. A mechanic. But then you had blown it when he tried to kiss you. You had sighed Obi Wan’s name. He was kind enough to forgive you. Until he surprised you at the diner one day. He had been patiently waiting for your shift to end. When Obi Wan and Anakin walked in.

“There she is Obi Wan!” The thirteen year old pointed you out. Obi Wan gave a friendly smile. You had waved, biting your lips as you saw how the beard Obi Wan was growing out suited him.

But then you had caught your boyfriend’s eye. He gave you a sad smile. He knew. And the pity in his eyes told you he understood your dilemma. You were in love with a man forbidden to love. And while he had been free to love you, he just couldn’t compete. He had left and you never saw him again. You had heard he married a few years later, and you were glad. Meanwhile you would stop trying to date after that.

Funny enough that same day, after your boyfriend had left, you had approached Obi Wan and Anakin to take their order.

“Was that your boyfriend?” Anakin had asked.

“Anakin...”

“Yes he was.” You nodded, setting out their utensils, not adding that you were no longer an item as of five minutes ago.

“Does he think you’re pretty like Obi Wan does?” Anakin had asked.

You looked at the boy stunned as his Master admonished,

“Anakin!”

You glanced at Obi Wan out of the corner of your eye. He was shielding his eyes with his hand, neck and face flushed red. You couldn’t help but be amused. Anakin was more like a annoying kid brother to Obi Wan than student and teacher. You liked the kid enough, but sometimes his confidence struck you as arrogance. He was improving that attitude under Obi Wan though.

“I suppose he did.” You answered, giving them menus.

“Did?” Anakin caught.

“That’s none of our business Padawan.” Obi Wan softly scolded.

“I’ll give you a minute to decide.” You told them.

But you heard over your shoulder,

“Don’t you think she’s pretty Master?”

“Shut up Anakin...”

That stupid flare of hope ignited in you once again.

As years past and Anakin grew, the conflict between the Republic and the Trade Federation Separtists grew into a full blown war. Anakin was soon knighted and given his own padawan along with a command over a clone trooper squad. Obi wan was made a general with his own squadron. The Jedi visits to the diner were rare.

The war and Obi Wan wasn’t the only thing you had to worry about. You had to take several moonlighting jobs during the war. Once you were hired as a server at a fancy gala for Republic senators.

You rarely visited the Upper levels outside Coco Town. The opulence of the ballroom had left you speechless. Still you did your job. When you heard a familiar voice call your name.

You were sure you were gawking as Obi Wan approached you. He looked so dashing in his armor.

“Obi Wan!”

It wasn’t you that called his name. A tall, beautiful woman with blonde hair and rich robes caught his attention.

“Duchess.” He said. You heard the warmth in his tone. The one that matched his eyes. You turned and disappeared into the background, not seeing Obi Wan try to introduce you only to find you gone.

You didn’t really have time to process how Obi Wan had looked at the Duchess over the next few months. You had to earn a living. You started taking waitressing jobs in Coruscant nightclubs. Which required a lot of skimpy short dresses. No one noticed you anyway. So they never bothered you too much.

Until a familiar voice said over the chatter of crowds and booming music,

“No one told me the view here was so lovely.”

With a blush you turned to see Obi Wan once again in his armor approach you.

“Hello Obi Wan.” You nodded.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“Well between the taxes the Chancellor imposed on businesses considered non essential to the war, and the taxes that made my rent go up, a girl has to eat. Even Dex has a second job now.” You shrugged.

“Which explains why I saw you at the gala. I’m sorry I didn’t know you were working. I thought you might have been there as someone’s date.” He said.

You scoffed,

“Yeah right. Who would take a girl from Coco town to one of those Upper level parties?”

“I would be proud to have you on my arm.” He said. You looked up at him at that.

“That’s sweet. But I don’t have time for parties these days.” You told him, trying to excuse yourself.

“Maybe...when the war is over?”

You stopped and looked at him in shock. Did he just? No he thought of you as a friend.

“Well you’ll have to win the war first.” You recovered.

“All the more reason to do so then My Dear. And quickly.” He said, lips tugged up. Ugh. When did he get so charming?

“Obi Wan!” Ashoka waved him over next to Anakin, Senator Amidala and a few troopers.

“I should get back to work.” You said.

“If you get off soon or have a break you’re free to join us.” He said kindly.

“Thanks. But as soon as I get off I have to head home to get a few hours sleep. I have to open Dex’s in the morning.” You told him.

“Then I’ll walk you home.” He nodded.

“You don’t have to.” You shook your head.

“I insist. And don’t you dare try to sneak out on me this time.” He told you.

You gave him a mock salute,

“Yes Sir.”

He chuckled and returned to his friends, as you took a steadying breath. But you couldn’t help but hear the Senator ask,

“Will your friend join us Obi Wan?”

“You mean his girlfriend?” Ahsoka teased.

“Snips!”

Obi Wan sighed,

“Anakin do control your padawan.”

It turned out that it wasn’t just Obi Wan to walk you home. You were also escorted by a few of his men. Men that had chuckled when Obi Wan had kissed your cheek goodnight. Until a bark from their general made them snap to attention.

You watched him leave that night, savoring the kiss lingering on your cheek. A memory you would cling to when a month later you got the awful news. Obi Wan had been murdered.

You had wanted to curl up and cry for days after receiving the news from Ahsoka. Anakin was understandably too upset to even speak since it happened. But Dex had gotten himself kriffing drunk when he heard. Someone had to keep the diner going.

The diner was closed the day of the funeral. You had to go solo. Dex couldn’t bring himself to go to it. You had never been to the Jedi temple before. It was massive and almost otherworldly. You were escorted to a lift. Where the Duchess from the ball joined you. She too had tears in her eyes.

You were left alone in the lift together. When she asked,

“How did you know Obi Wan?”

“I work at the diner he liked to go for lunch. He’s been coming ever since he was a padawan. The owner Dex is...was...a good friend. He couldn’t come today.” You explained.

“Sounds like Obi Wan.” She nodded fondly. “He protected me during the Mandalore Civil War. Him and Qui Gon. Then just Obi Wan for nearly a year. We grew so close...”

She sniffed delicately into a hanky, not noticing how you turned green. Of course a beautiful Duchess would turn his head. You were just a plain waitress from the lower levels. A friend. Every moment you thought had been proof of hidden affection for you was just a product of your imagination. You had tried to push away a good friend because of some stupid crush. A stupid crush that he wouldn’t return because of the woman next to you and the Jedi code. And now he was gone.

The lift opened and you exited into a large open air chamber. Your breath catching seeing the body lying in state under a sheet. You only noticed Anakin seething in rage in front of the body. The look on his face gave you chills. The rest of the service you kept your gaze on Obi Wan’s body until the last moment he was lowered into his tomb that slid closed. The emblem of the Jedi craved into his marker.

Unlike other funerals you had attended, once the service was over the Jedi left. Regular mourners like you, the Duchess and Senator Amidala lingered to give final respects. When it was your turn, you whispered,

“I’ll never stop loving you Obi Wan Kenobi. Even if you never loved me.”

You returned home and back to life. A few days later, it was almost closing when a man entered. He was bald headed, and rough looking. A scar and tattoo on his face. Bounty hunter written all over him.

“Hi. Welcome to Dex’s. The kitchen just closed but if you want caff or pie we have plenty.” You greeted with a courteous smile.

He stood there staring at you. He made you nervous. But not afraid. Odd.

“Sir?”

He shook himself,

“Just caff.”

“Coming up.” You nodded turning to grab the pot. You startled when you found him sitting in Obi Wan’s booth. Sure others had sat there, but the way he sat now, it was just too similar. Too eerie.

Something wrong?” He asked, voice gruff but gentle. There was something familiar about it.

“Nothing. It’s just...have we met?” You asked.

“No. I’d remember a pretty girl like you.” He said hiding his smile behind his cup. He wasn’t that attractive, but you blushed nevertheless.

“Not many people would call me pretty.” You said.

“They’re idiots.”

“Well thanks.” You laughed, ready to leave him alone.

“Why are you sad?” He stopped you.

“Excuse me?”

“Did you lose someone?” He pressed.

You gave a short laugh,

“That obvious huh?”

“Who did you lose?” He asked.

“A friend.”

“Just a friend?”

You furrowed your brow,

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. He was just my friend.”

“I meant no offense.” He said as if remembering himself.

“Right...” you nodded wanting to excuse yourself.

“It’s just...I can’t believe a man would just be content to be your friend. I’d imagine...he’d wish things were different. More than once.” He said.

“Maybe. But not with me.” You said.

“Why not?”

“Well at first I thought he was devoted to his calling. A calling I was told didn’t allow for attachments. So I didn’t want to take that away from him. Only later I discovered he had feelings for someone else.” You confessed. Why you were sharing this with a stranger you didn’t know. But it felt good to confess it.

“Maybe he was confused himself. Torn between his calling and his feelings for two different women.” He offered.

“You haven’t seen the other woman.” You scoffed putting down the pot and leaning against the booth.

“Let me guess? Tall? Blonde? Regal?” He prompted.

“Uncanny. You sure we haven’t met?” You asked.

“I’d never forget meeting you.” He said.

It was the twinkle in his eye that had you shaking your head.

“Well. If you had seen them together, there would be no doubt on who he would choose if he wanted to give up his calling. They looked made for each other.” You told him.

“Maybe. But I can see why he’d be drawn to you.”

At your skeptical brow raise he continued, “Your kindness. Your selflessness. Your work ethic.”

“This sounds like a job interview.” You quipped.

“Your eyes. How they light up when you look at him. Your smile would haunt his dreams. Your laugh ringing in his ears. How you treat him like a normal man. Put his happiness ahead of your own. The other woman may have a strength, intelligence and beauty that’s draws him as well, and he does care for her. Deeply. But he can’t imagine a normal life with her. He can with you. It’s tempted him far more than she ever did. All he needed was a word from you.” The stranger went on.

“Who are you?” You asked. He suddenly stood, looking out the window. He exited the booth looking down at you.

“A coward. For not doing this sooner.” He replied. Then he kissed you. Your eyes widened in surprise. Then you melted in his embrace.

Before losing yourself completely, he suddenly bolted into the kitchen. Confused beyond belief, you tried to figure out what just happened. When Anakin stormed in, lightsaber ignited.

“Where is he?” He barked.

“Who?” You asked.

“Rako Hardeen!” He hissed.

“Who?!”

He growled stomping into the kitchen. Ahsoka burst in, out of breath, troopers on her heel.

“What’s going on? Who was that man?” You demanded.

“That’s the man that killed Obi Wan!” She huffed. You collapsed into the booth, feeling sick.

Hours past and you were kept there for questioning. Master Windu had come to question you. If you knew anything about Hardeen. What you talked about. You got the impression that he was trying to see if you were an accomplice. That angered you. It was Master Yoda that stopped him. The wise green Jedi master sensed the truth in you he had said.

“Forgive Master Windu and Young Skywalker you must. Seeking justice they are.” He told you as the Jedi left, a few Clones assigned to take you home.

“It’s not like I asked for a murderer to seek me out. Master Yoda? Why would he kiss me?” You asked, embarrassed. But you had to know.

“Hmm. To get in heads of targets, snipers learn everything about them they do. Saw your friendship with Obi Wan he did. Snipers known to fall for those their target cared about. Happens more than you think.” Yoda assured you.

It made sense. Especially given your odd conversation. Obviously just the man’s misconceptions.

“Hmm. Curious though. Why call himself a coward he did?” He asked. A secret dancing on his little smile as he left you.

To top off the strange day, after the troopers had cleared your apartment, posting a guard outside just in case, you dreamed of the kiss. Only when Hardeen broke the kiss, he had turned into Obi Wan.

You tried to get on with life. Work at the diner during the days, the clubs at night and on your days off. Hardeen was caught and sent to prison. You still dreamed of that kiss.

Months went by. Anakin started to come for lunch. His way of remembering Obi Wan you supposed. Only he only brought Ahsoka half the time. Senator Amidala was often his company. Padme as she insisted you call her. And judging by the looks they gave each other, they weren’t just friends. Which didn’t surprise you. Anakin had always been more willing to break the rules than Obi Wan had.

As much as you enjoyed getting to know them better, you still felt like a third wheel. When Ahsoka and the Clones joined him, you were more inclined to hang out. But seeing them flirting when they thought no one was looking you had to roll your eyes. Did they know how obvious they were?

But one day, you woke up with the realization that you hadn’t dreamt of the kiss. Maybe you were finally moving on. You fixed yourself a full breakfast. Then walked to Dex’s for the afternoon shift. Settling into the routine of taking and filling orders. You were mixing a milkshake when a voice you never thought you’d hear again spoke up.

“Hello there.”

You gasped, dropping the glass. Only it didn’t shatter. You looked and saw it was floating in midair.

“We really must stop meeting like this.” That voice said. You turned. Praying this wasn’t a cruel dream. For there was Obi Wan. His hair was buzzcut short again, his shaven beard growing back in. Smiling gently at you.

“That’s an inappropriate use of the Force.” You reminded him.

“Just say the word and I’ll give it up.” He said.

You blanched,

“What?”

He was interrupted by Dex running from the kitchen,

“Obi Wan! Knew you weren’t dead!”

“Hello Dex.” Obi Wab greeted before being pulled into a tight four armed hug.

The greeting soon turned into a celebration when Anakin, Ahsoka, Padme and the Clones showed up. You were soon given an explanation. Obi Wan had faked his death to go undercover to save the Chancellor from an assassination plot. Taking the identity of Rako Hardeen and even changing his face. Doing the timeline in your head, you realized something.

“That was you that night wasn’t it?” You asked him quietly.

“I’m sorry for deceiving you.” He apologized.

“But why?” You asked.

“I needed to make sure my voice modulator was working correctly. That if a friend who knew me for years couldn’t tell, then I could fool everyone else.” He replied.

Friend. Of course.

“And the kiss? All the things you said?” You asked.

“Well I like to be though.” He quipped, taking a bite of cake.

“I see.”

“You’re angry with me.” He stated.

“Maybe I am. After all Master Kenobi you did manipulate my feelings just to test your dumb disguise.” You clarified.

“Manipulate? I didn’t mean...”

“Next time try Satine. I’m sure she won’t be so easily fooled.” You told him yanking off your apron and stomping out, ignoring Obi Wan calling after you.

It would be almost a year before you saw him again. Anakin said he was focused on ending the war. Not that you asked about him. More than...six times. This time you suspected Dex had changed your schedule so you could avoid the Jedi. Until one night when you showed up for the late shift. Dex was sick again. So you would have to close up. Luckily you didn’t have to work the clubs tonight.

Only when you got there, you saw Obi Wan in his usual booth.

“He’s been sitting there all day. Won’t let me or FLO get him anything.” the other waitress Hermoine told you. You sighed tying on your apron. You still had a job to do.

“What can I get you General?” You had asked.

“That depends.” He replied.

“On?”

“If you’re still mad at me?” He asked.

You laughed softly, folding your arms,

“Believe it or not Obi Wan, regular people don’t hold on to past grievances. We’ve got lives to live.”

“I know. It’s one of the things I admire about you.” He said.

“I’m sorry about Satine.” You offered. You had heard it from the news. The Duchess assassinated. Mandalore under the control of a mysterious crime boss. The fate of the war up in the air.

“Thank you.” He said softly. Eyes sad.

“You were there weren’t you?” You guessed taking a seat.

“I tried to rescue her. I can’t say much, but the man who killed her is an old enemy of mine. He wanted me to suffer. I barely escaped.” Obi Wan told you.

“I’m sure she knew you did your best.” You assured him.

“She told me she loved me. That she always would.” He confessed.

Your heart skipped a beat,

“And what did you tell her?”

“That had she said the word, I’d have left the order.” He said.

“You did love her.” You said. But not me, you thought.

“Remember that year Qui Gon and I went to help during the Mandalore Civil War?” He asked.

“Yes. Satine told me. At your funeral. You spent a year together.” You recalled.

“We did grow close. And if she had asked I would have left the order. If I hadn’t mucked up our one and only kiss.” He explained.

“Mucked up how?”

“I called her by your name.” He confessed.

“What?” You blinked.

“She was furious. I tried to explain but I didn’t know how. I still don’t to be honest.” He said.

Your brain stopped working. You tried to process his words.

“I devoted myself to the Order because it was easier to ignore the fact that I cared for not just one woman but two. So I wouldn’t have to choose. That cost one of you your life. And it’s not fair. To either of you.

I only thank the Maker that no one knows about you. None of my enemies anyway. To be on the safe side a trooper will be working undercover here to protect you. You might have to pretend to be dating him.”

Obi Wan had grumbled this last part.

“Jealous?” You teased him.

“Very. But I promise you once this blasted war is over, I’m not going to keep you waiting anymore. I’ll leave the Order and we’ll figure out what we have. Together.” He stated.

“Are you just saying this because I’m your only choice now?” You asked.

He looked confused,

“What? No...I...”

You stopped him by taking his hand,

“Obi Wan. The Force chose you to have these marvelous gifts. To be used for good. Even before I knew about Satine I never wanted you to give that side of yourself up for me. I love you for who you are. As you are. I’ve dreamed of you wanting me as I’ve wanted you. But because you can’t live without me. Not because you’re scared to lose me. Correct me if I’m wrong but that’s the path to the Dark Side right?”

“Right as always my Darling.” He conceded.

#obi wan fluff #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #star wars #prequels fanfic

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chocolate-parfait · 5 years ago

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Hi! I hope you're doing well, I recently found your blog and straight up gobbled up all the Ikevamp content XD. I saw that your askbox is open, do you think I could request headcanons for Shakespeare, Mozart and Dazai with a suicidal reader? I completely understand if you're not comfortable with that, It's just that this year is really hard for me and Ikevamp boys are my coping mechanism. Again, I understand if you don't want to do it. Have a nice day!

Suicidal MC - ikevamp headcanons (Shakespeare, Mozart & Dazai)

TW: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE

This is a pretty sensitive topic for most but I'm willing to write for it in case there's even a slight chance of bringing comfort to people who are in this situation. I wrote everything based on my experience with my best friend, but if there's anything wrongly portrayed please tell me and I will fix it.

Also, if you ever need someone to talk to, know that I'm here whenever you want! I hope you'll be able to get better as soon as possible. Don't worry and take your time!

Shakespeare

When you mention it he turns to stone. He looks at you straight in the eyes and then takes your hands in his. "My dearest, what hath brought thou to form such dreadful thoughts?". In a way he can't understand why you feel that way towards yourself, but if his presence can be of consolation to you then be prepared for him to be glued to your side 24/7, never letting you out of his sight

Will some fresh air help you clear your head? Then he's going to take you into town and show you the most breathtaking locations of 19th century Paris while holding your hand the whole time. Would you perhaps prefer staying inside and rest? He'll gently hold you as he softly converses with you the whole time, his archaic way of speaking giving everything a dream-like vibe and lulling you in a peaceful sleep

You're his muse and he absolutely can't stand seeing your eyes clouded with self-hatred. Sometimes he's a bit at loss and doesn't know what the best course of action is, but if your feelings stem from something someone has said or done to you, William will make sure to take action against this fool who dared hurting you

As a writer he's very good at reading people's feelings, despite being a bit inexperienced when it comes to dealing with his own, but he knows when he's about to step his boundaries and worsen your state. He'd never forgive himself if something were to happen to you so he gives in to your every wish in order to keep you satisfied and happy. Nonetheless he corrects you whenever you speak out of self-deprecation, reminding you how important and perfect you are to him

Everyone is so different there isn't any way of being "right" or "wrong", we're just the way we are. People measure us depending on their own personal standards, and despite Shakespeare trying to be as objective as he can, as a narrator of his own story, he can't help but find you utterly beautiful in every form and moment and he makes sure to remind you of this often

Mozart

At first he can't wrap his head around the thought, but when he catches up, for the first time in his life he's afraid of not being enough. He's always been praised for how good his music was, but he certainly wasn't all that good when it came to words. What if he said the wrong thing at the wrong time? What if he wasn't convincing enough and he couldn't help you feel better about yourself? Words suddenly gain a completely new weight, and he's constantly measuring them on the most sensitive meter his mind can muster

He knows he can be a bit rough around the edges, but he'll abandon his sarcastic facade whenever he's with you. Physical contact will also increase immensely. He'll try to spend as much time as possible with you, neglecting even his piano, to keep an eye on you and to try and work the situation out at the same time. Your life is what's most important to him, to a degree he's willing to forsake everything just so that you could chase those terrible thoughts out your head.

In a way or the other he's always touching you, and you notice he's started smiling more. He thinks that if he showed you a more lighthearted side of him, then maybe you'd unconsciously feel better too. For this reason he also composes cheerful songs especially for bettering your mood, and plays them with you sitting in his lap

When he holds you close, he whispers every little reason he loves you so much as he gently caresses your hair, planting a kiss on top of your head every now and then

"You don't have to do this alone, you know. I'll always be here for you."

Dazai

The moment you tell him, he feels his heart tightening and a seemingly endless moment passes before you actually hear him release the breath he was holding in, a flurry of emotions passing through his golden eyes

Everything you're going through, he's endured it countless times, and he'll use his experience to help you deal with it. He can tell whenever one day is worse or better than the other and he'll act accordingly, changing his words and actions based on how you feel on that specific day. Wordlessly embracing you in his arms or taking you out on a date depending on your mood

If you like drinking then be prepared for having to sober up for some time as Dazai won't let neither you or himself near a drop of alcohol. During his life as a human, he tried multiple times to drown his sorrows in that sweet nectar, but it only made matters worse making him feel even more miserable. If you look closely enough you can see how serious he is about this whole issue under his usual chirping appearance

Despite having been held in many women's embraces, your love is completely different from any other he had ever experienced before. He'd never be able to suggest you a double suicide with him as he's disposed to live for you, by finding strength in your relationship. He wants you to be able to do the same, and he can promise you that even if things seem helpless now, there's going to be better days in the future, because nothing stays the same over time

#my writing #answered #ikemen vampire #ikevamp imagines #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp scenarios #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp dazai #william shakespeare #wolfgang amadeus mozart #osamu dazai

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cafedanslanuit · 5 years ago

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would it be ok to ask for hcs of the main 6 + vaderwood and how they would react to their normally energetic and funny mc being a little off and making some self-deprecating jokes (like a little too dark to be funny) as a way of coping and hiding their anxiety/depression? if not thats ok im just in a similar mood today.

self-deprecating jokes are my thing too, tbh. hope you’re feeling better! <3 Also, I couldn’t picture Vandy for this particular hc, I’m sorry :c

Yoosung

This boy honestly loves how fun you are. He will always laugh with you and you don’t tease him that much (Saeyoung does that for you)

One day, when he comes home from his job at the vet, he finds you calling for pizza. He lets you finish the call and then you look up.

“Hey, welcome back! I accidentally left the stove on for too long and messed up dinner” you casually said, with a small giggle. “So I called Pizza Hut, hope it’s okay”.

“It’s okay!” he says. “I love pizza”

“I know, me too” you smile. You stand up and stretch your arms. “Okay, so I’ll take a shower before it gets here. How the fuck did I forget the stove on, I don’t know” you laugh. “I swear to God I would totally leave me at this point”.

Yoosung says nothing, shocked. He watches you walk to the bathroom and turn on the shower. He knows you like to joke around, but that joke had been pretty specific. Leave you? Why would he leave you? Over some burnt food?!

He waits until you come out, wrapped in a towel and hands you a cup of your favourite tea. You smile weakly.

“An award for my awful cooking?” you tease him.

“Hey! It’s just food! And you solved it. I don’t really care, MC, please let it go”. He sees your lips tremble a little bit. “Are you okay?”

You had a really rough day at work. You tell him all about it while sipping on the tea and he silently listens to you, nodding at the right times. The pizza finally arrives and he puts on your favourite show so you both can watch it. When you go to bed, he makes sure to give you extra cuddles, so you never have to feel any more pressure on yourself.

Zen

Honestly, he’s not the best at comedy. But he really likes how much you can make yourself laugh with your own jokes.

He comes home and hands you his tablet. You arch an eyebrow and look at him from the couch. He sits beside you and asks you to press play. You nod and comply his request.

It’s a video from rehearsal. He’s singing at he’s actually hitting all the notes just right. You smile softly, watching the video in silence. When it’s over, you turn and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“You’re amazing, babe. You did the song soooo good! How can you be so talented?”

“Thank you, babe. And I don’t know, can’t help it. I’m just talented.” he shrugs, with a confident smile.

“Well, someone has to be” you responded quickly. His smiled faltered and he looked at you, confused.

“What are you talking about? You are talented too. I’ve seen your drawings, those building projects you have been working on. They’re masterpieces, MC, I love them and–”

“I didn’t get the job, Zen” you quickly answer, not looking at him. “They didn’t like those ‘masterpieces’” you added, making the colons signs with his fingers.

Oh. So they had already sent you the email.

Zen would put the tablet aside and hold you on the couch. Whisper over and over again how talented you truly are and how they were in the wrong for not noticing it.

“If they can’t see how brilliant you are, why would you want to work for them?” he asked. “I’ve been rejected more times that I can count. I know how you feel. And you know what makes me feel better?”

You look at him and shake your head.

Ten minutes later, you’re both riding on his motorcycle, feeling the air against your face. you hug him tighter and smile.

Jaehee

Jaehee’s not one for jokes. But she does enjoy the occasional laugh she has with you. You make tons of jokes, but, unlike Saeyoung, you know when to stop

“Babyyyyyyyy, I’m a mess!” you complained, stretching on your bed. Both of you were working on your laptops, when suddenly you put yours aside.

“C’mon. Help me, Excel Goddess! Can’t seem to make this thing to work and I need to show it to my boss tomorrow” you asked. Jaehee smiled softly, put her laptop aside and grabbed yours. She started typing formulas, fixing your work.

“You’re so good to me, baby. Thank youuuu. That’s why you’re the smart one here”. Jaehee just smiled, continuing her work.

“They should have taught me Excel in school instead of sports. Did anyone of my class turn out to be an athlete? No one. Are we struggling to get a job because we don’t know shit about Excel? We are”.

“Maybe that’s why I’m failing. Maybe that’s why I had to settle with this shitty job, because I can’t comprehend the monster that in Microsoft Excel. Maybe that’s also why my Computer Science teacher hated me at school” you said dramatically. Jaehee chuckled softly.

“Maybe that’s why my whole life is a mess right now. Maybe that’s why I can’t find joy in the things I do anymore, maybe that’s why my father left us. Because I’m a shitty person who can’t do Excel and can’t get a decent job”.

She stopped typing and looked over at you.

“MC. What are you saying?”

“I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m tired. Don’t think about it too much”

“I-… Do you want me to talk to Mr. Han? Maybe there’s a position and… I know C&R takes most of my time but an entry level job may be good– at least for your resumé and–”

“I’m fine. Don’t think about it, baby” you dismissed, but Jaehee grabbed your hand.

“Can’t you really find joy anymore?” she asked. You sighed.

“Happens to me when the cold weather beggins. Will go away in a couple of weeks” you shrugged. Jaehee squeezed your hand.

“Let me know if I can do anything to help you… well, find joy again”.

“You do help!” you assured her. “I can find bits of joy here” you smiled and gave her a small kiss. She smiled and kissed you back.

Jumin

Jumin doesn’t understand most of your jokes. Most of the times, you have to explain them to him. He doesn’t mind, but it’s only because he really enjoys watching you laugh at your own jokes. The sight of you giggling it’s enough to light up any day.

That day, you decided to visit him during lunch. Which wasn’t a rare occurrence, you tried to visit him at least once a week, making sure with Jaehee you wouldn’t be interrupting.

“Good afternoon, my love. Didn’t expect you here” he greeted you, giving your cheek a tender kiss when you approached him. You gave him the bento you had prepared and sat in front of him, on the other side of his desk.

“I know. I just thought your darling, loving wife might make an appearence. I do have to keep those heiresses away from you” you laughed. He smiled softly and opened his bento. “Don’t want them making you change your mind about marrying some poor girl who couldn’t even afford university by herself”.

Jumin arched his eyebrow while eating his lunch. “Is there a problem with your classes? I thought you were excited about finally attending university, even if most of the classes are online for security reasons. Are the professors not competent enough? Are they not grading you fairly?”

You laughed. “No, Jumin, classes are fine. I just… Don’t really fit with your social class, you know. I mean, I knew I wouldn’t fit, but someday’s it really… just… I don’t know. You can put a working class girl in a Channel, but you can’t really change who she really is inside, right?” you smiled weakly.

Jumin furrowed his eyebrows, visibly upset. “What are you talking about?”

Your facade disappear and you sighed. You reached out for his hand and held it tighly.

“Please, don’t misunderstand me. I love you, I really do. Nothing can change that. But I can’t– I can’t pretend I don’t hear the whispers when I come here to have lunch with you. How I listen to them mocking these nice clothes you bought for me” you said, pointing at your light blue dress he had given you. “I don’t… I didn’t grow up with these things. I must look really dumb pretending to be part of a class I’m not”.

“Who made that comment?” he asks, angrily.

You try to cover it up, but after some pushing, you tell him it’s the secretary that works two offices away. She has a desk beside Jaehee’s. Jumin stands up, not stopping when you ask him to. He takes one step outside his office and spots the secretary you must be talking about.

“You’re fired. Assistant Kang, take care of that paperwork”.

Jumin returned to his office and locked the door. You can’t believe what just happened. He walks over to you and lifts up your chin with his hand, gently.

“Don’t ever let anyone tell you you don’t belong here. Or that you don’t deserve elegant clothes or anything I want to give to you. I know you didn’t grow up the same as me, but that’s why I love you. Because you didn’t look at me and saw my money or C&R, you looked at me. At who I was. Who I could be. I want to be the best man I can be, just for you. And I want to please you, giving you anything I can so you can enjoy life at its fullest. Also, look at you” he said, taking a look at your whole outfit. “You look breathtaking. You look classy, and it’s not just the dress” he smirked, kissing your cheek and making his way to your neck, leaving you a mess of giggles.

Saeyoung

Ok, so we all agree he’s the king of dark humour and self-deprecating jokes.

And he’s used to be like that around you and sometimes you make the same jokes and you both just laugh it out.

So that day, he doesn’t notice something’s off from the start.

He’s fixing the robot cat, since it had been malfunctioning. You’re reading a magazine on the couch while he’s sitting on the floor, both of you talking on and off.

“One day you should teach me who to do that. You know, fixing stuff and such”

“I wil! But you’ll need to call me sensei during our lessons.”

“Sensei? Isn’t that japanese?”

“It is! I’ll be your sensei if you wish. But what do you want to learn to fix?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t want to be the dumb one of the relationship”

“Awww. But we make such a good pair~”

“Just because you haven’t got tired of me yet” you chuckle.

“How could I get tired of your cooking? Never!~ I swear my mouth waters just thinking about your waffles.”

You laugh. “That’s all I am? My cooking?”

“Well, also how clean you keep this, Ms. Vanderwood hasn’t been complaining as much as before” he teases you.

“Well, you know I have to keep this apartment clean and your stomach full. That’s why I’m here, right? Until you get tired of my stupidness” you chuckle.

Saeyoung looks back at you, stopping on his fixing of robo-cat. He’s not longer smiling.

“… You really think that? That I think you’re stupid?”

“Well… I’m no genius. I’m just one more secretary, I’m… c’mon. You’d have more fun with someone who’s just as smart as you. I’m just here… until my time’s done. I’ve accepted it long ago.”

Suddenly he’s over you, making you lay on the couch, pinning both your arms over your head.

“Stop! What? Stop, just stop, what are you even saying?! You are kind, compassionate, generous and the most beautiful soul I’ve ever seen. You stayed by my side when I was at my worst. You saw all parts of me and still loved me. I’m the one who isn’t worthy of someone as loving and forgiving as you. I– I could never. I could have never rescued Saeran without you. I could have never been happy or even think about real happiness if it weren’t for you. So honestly, what if you don’t know anything about computers or hacking? That doesn’t matter to me. It’s you and your heart. It’s always been about your loving heart, MC. Please, please don’t be so hard on yourself. I’ve loved you my whole life. Even before I met you. I just didn’t realize it.”

Your eyes water

damn, saeyoung i almost cried as well, you fucker

You both stay on the couch, holding each other until you fall asleep. He keeps whispering soft and warm words to your ear every now and then, making sure you never doubt yourself again.

Saeran

“i want to die” “same”

It’s so usual for you both to make dark jokes, he doesn’t really notice when it stops being a joke to you.

You’re both laying on the couch. You’re on top of him, resting your head on his chest. You can’t remember how it started, but you start joking around.

“Your girlfriend’s a mess, you know”

“She is. Have you seen her hair?” he teased.

“What the hell does she think she’s doing? Have you seen the way she dresses?”

“Total mishap. It’s like a match made in hell”

“And her voice? More like a screech” you laugh, making fun of your own voice.

“Will she ever shut up?” he sighed dramatically, smirking softly.

“Why does she think she actually make someone happy?” you chuckle. His smile disappears.

Saeran stays silent for a minute. “You’re not happy?”

are you not happy with him? has he already bored you out of your mind? are you having second thoughts about your relationship? because he’s been trying, he’s been seeing a psychologist and even though there still isn’t a big change, he— is it because there hasn’t been a big change?

“Well, you’re not” you replied in a small voice. “And I can’t– And I don’t how– Maybe it’s me?”

So, Saeran decides to try something he’s been talking about with his psychologist. Better now than ever, he thought.

“I love you”

You raise your head, looking at him in disbelief. He’s never said that before. When you started dating, he had kissed you and you had understood how it was hard for him to express feelings due to the severe trauma he had gone through, so you hadn’t pushed him but… Saeran was still looking at you, a tense expression on his face. You suddenly realized you hadn’t said anything back.

“I love you too”. You had said it before. You had told him that a million times, but it was the first time you said it back.

“I know it seems I’m not making progress– But I think I am? I mean, I just told you that, right?” he said, scratching his head, a little nervous. “He said we were going to work on expressing feelings, and it was easier to express the most intense ones.”

“Your most intense feeling– one of your most intense feelings is loving me?” you asked, still surprised.

“Shut up” he said, making you laugh for real this time.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger headcanon #mysme hc #mystic messenger hc #mm hc #mm jumin #mm zen #mm jaehee #mm yoosung #mm saeyoung #i've lost my ability to make small hcs #this turned out to be seven pages on a google doc #SEVEN #will i ever make small hcs again #idk

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utterlyinevitable · 5 years ago

Text

Do We Have A Future?: January

Part 1 | Part 2: November

Paring: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 1.9k Warning: Adult themes, mental health triggers, themes of depression, pregnancy complications and termination Summary: Rebecca told Ethan and now they have to live with the aftermath of their decision.

Author’s Note: Sensitive subject matter means I really suggest only reading if you are 18+ years old.

Taglist: @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @aylamwrites @binny1985 @ramseysno1rookie

________________________________________

Becca stood alone in the middle of Ethan’s dimly lit bedroom one morning after a scalding hot shower while flecks of snow flurried outside. She stood in front of the double wide full length mirror taking in her full form - the unchanged curvature of her hips and abdomen.

“I’d be in my second trimester…” she whispered to herself as she ran a hand delicately from her breast and lingering down to the blank space of skin below her navel.

It would have been born in June.

It was 6:30 in the morning and they needed to be at work in thirty minutes. When Ethan didn’t hear the familiar scuttering of his girlfriend hastily getting ready after choosing another twenty minutes of sleep he grew worried that something may have happened.

He gingerly opened the door to see his love transfixed in front of the mirror. He crossed the distance quietly in four long strides. Snaking his arms around her he whispered into her ear, “Are you okay?”

There Ethan stood in his standard work attire holding Becca’s cold naked body close to him, his left hand securely wrapped around her midsection and his right hand placed on top of hers at her stomach. His clean shaven chin rested on her shoulder and his bright blue eyes searched her features for the explanation he knew was never coming.

“Yeah,” she breathed as she snapped back into reality. Ethan could feel the goosebumps beginning to prick her skin and eyes started to glaze over as she pulled away from him. “Give me a minute. I’ll be ready in five.”

Becca still cried at the thought of what's been lost. She still couldn’t walk past the neonatal wing of the hospital, or any babies for that matter. Even infants on social media or television bring tears to her eyes. Some days the extreme emptiness hits harder than others.

Ethan still refused to talk about it. He wanted nothing more than to know how exactly he could help her without having to guess each and every day. But that would be breaking their solemn vow. He couldn’t break his promise after she explicitly asked him not to all those weeks ago at her appointment. Ethan couldn’t let her down; not now, not ever again.

Unbeknownst to him, Rebecca wanted nothing more than to confront the fact head on, she’s done her self deprecating wallowing and was ready to divulge. She wanted to know what’s going on inside his head. But after the last time she tried to bring it up she feared that if she continued it would be to the detriment of their relationship.

They were sitting on Ethan’s couch watching a Blue Planet documentary. Ethan comfortably laid back with his feet perched on an ottoman and Becca’s legs draped over his lap. She had the purple fleece blanket she brought from her apartment snuggled around her torso. Neither were too intrigued by this segment on flying fish, so Becca picked at the chipping paint on her fingernails and Ethan closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling of how this woman beside him could make him feel so at home.

Out of nowhere the demons eating at Becca’s core shakily asked, “What would we have done if we kept it?”

Truth be told Becca had been thinking this since the moment she swallowed the first pill. What would their life be like here and now?

“Stop, Rookie,” he sternly admonished. Ethan knew she was treading down a slippery slope. She had finally started going through a routine like normal and he believed entertaining this notion would have her regress back into the shell of the woman he once knew. “No point in dwelling on the past.”

Becca pursed her lips and gave him an unsatisfied nod. She could push the subject but she wasn’t strong enough for that. She used every little bit of courage she had to let the thoughts slip off her tongue without the twin tears rolling down her cheeks. The topic seemed like taboo.

Why can’t we talk about this? she thought.

***

Becca had been back at Edenbrook for six weeks. She enthusiastically threw herself into her work hoping it would help fill the void and bring her joy. However it did nothing to soothe her like the way it once had. Rebecca was barren; the things she loved didn’t carry enough weight anymore. Her moods had also frequently gone on a roller-coaster ride, more times than she or Ethan would care to admit. She lived in the realm of fury, rage, disinterest and disdain. But at least she was talking and willing to leave the apartment.

Thankfully, Ethan thinks to himself every day she gets up and goes through the motions of her past self.

She still didn’t spend much time at her place. The awkwardness and permanent ball lodged in her throat at keeping this secret from her dearest friends had put distance between them. Becca didn’t actively want to put a strain on her friendships; she just couldn’t bear the thought of them pitying her. It was easier for them to think she’d let her new job title and relationship become her most sacred of priorities.

When Ethan noticed her dejected and hopeless look day after day he thought now was a better time than any to help move her mind on to something else.

“I was thinking…” he trailed off as they sat at his kitchen island having her favorite spaghetti bolognese dish he ordered for them from Don Luigi’s. Looking down and twirling the noodles around his fork he said softly, “Maybe you’d like to move in?”

“What?” Becca’s eyes went wide as she nearly choked on the two bits of pasta in her mouth.

“You’re here all the time anyway,” he rationalized with a shrug of his shoulders. Ethan dropped the fork and swiftly swung around on his stool to face her. There was a gleam in his eyes that involuntarily made the corners of Becca’s mouth twitch. He reached out for her hands, cradling them between his own.

“How about we make it official?” Their eyes met and Becca took a bated breath. The corners of Ethan’s lips pulled into the biggest grin - a smile Becca knew was just for her. It had been months since she’d last seen him glow like that, all the wrinkles and cracks in his features coming to light just for her. “Make me the happiest man alive and turn this place into a home, Rookie.”

Looking at the man before her she thought maybe, just maybe everything will be okay.

“Okay,” she nodded with a small smile, trying her best to give him the genuine declaration of adoration that a moment like this deserved.

***

The move didn’t help. If anything it made her mental state worse. Rebecca was completely dissociated from her current life and there were two versions wandering around in her place.

The first version; the doctor and third year resident who focused solely on her patients needs, continuously going above and beyond for them. No matter the turmoil raging inside of her. For the first time in a while she was back at the top of her game, she didn’t need Ethan to shadow her or reassign any of her potentially-emotionally damaging cases. In the halls of Edenbrook all that mattered to Becca were the lives of her patients and helping as many helpless individuals as she possibly could.

Ethan knew she was deflecting but as her boss he was overly impressed with her performance as she tirelessly solved case after case in no time at all. He came to accept that the concern he had for her well-being was better felt behind closed doors, whether it be at home or with his father figure. Ethan did consistently speak about her with Naveen for both of their sakes. The two men discussed and debated on how they can support her without her knowing, while the older doctor simultaneously consoled and navigated his mentee’s guarded emotions whether Ethan liked it or not.

The second version of Rebecca was simply Becca. A girl who’s new coping mechanism was throwing herself into packing up her life and slowly turning Ethan’s luxury and sterile bachelor pad into a home. As she packed alone in her room she let her mind project a new, better reality. One where she was still carrying. She’d pass the time singing and speaking to her flat belly of the great life awaiting the three of them. The undeniable love still coursing through her veins.

‘What are we doing today?’ she said softly with a smile as she taped together a cardboard box on her bed. ‘We’re packing up my apartment and we’re moving into daddy’s place!’ Saying those words made her heart swell, feel fuller than it’s ever been.

Rebecca wasn’t alone. Although science and any rationale would say otherwise, she still felt that the baby, her baby was still with them.

Moving about her room she categorized the objects of her life out on the floor into piles of winter clothes, summer clothes, general clothes, books, household objects, and miscellaneous. As each pile started to grow and moving around became difficult she exclaimed,

‘I have so much stuff! Where are we gonna put it all?’ She chuckled to herself as she haphazardly threw one of the piles of clothes into an empty suitcase.

Patting her abdomen she happily added, ‘Dad’s gonna have a fit; we’re gonna take over the whole place.’

This quite well may be the only time she’d get to say those words out loud with Ethan. This could have possibly been the only time she’d be pregnant. Ethan was being more than careful now that she was not on any form of contraception. Her doctor noted that the typical thing to do after a termination would have been to start on the pill but Becca refused, wanting time for her body to readjust before adding more hormones in the mix. Not like we’re gonna be intimate any time soon... she thought bitterly in her OB/GYNs office back then.

In her mind Becca was now moving and creating a nest egg at Ethan’s for their little miracle. She allowed herself to indulge in this fantasy keeping her together - keeping her happy. She had made the mistake of getting attached in those first and last two weeks of knowing and now couldn’t shake the thought. As much as she’d wanted it gone, she grew fond of the little ball of cells and all the possibilities it held. Now she felt unfulfilled; something was missing from her life, from her body and she couldn’t understand why. Why something she didn’t want and didn’t have could hurt so much.

As a woman of medicine, Rebecca is a woman of proven science. She never did believe in a higher power.

But there’s so much unknown in this world. Maybe, just maybe...

If there was even the slightest chance the soul - her baby’s soul was wandering aimlessly around in the unknown, she needed to do something about it. After much internal deliberation and listening to her heart she decided it was a girl and gave her a name, Avaline Dolores Ramsey. She thought of her dark brown hair on the top of her tiny head, Ethan’s eyes shining bright with possibility, their skin colors mixed together to give an olive complexion.

A little bundle of joy staring back at her in her mind's eye every second of every day.

__________

A/N: writing this is the most cathartic thing ever. thank you for reading. we’ve got 2 more parts to go!

#open heart #open heart fanfic #choices open heart #choices fanfic #oph #oph ff #ff #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #tw: abortion #tw: mental health

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

Text

1. How has covid affected you? It just made me even more of a hermit crab than I already was, which I acknowledge is absolutely nothing at all compared to what so many people around the world experienced. It’s heartbreaking to say the least to see the tremendous effect it had.

2. What is a comfort show of yours ? Shows I grew up with and have seen many times. The other day I couldn’t sleep at all and I decided to put on The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, which used to come on the Disney Channel early in the morning when I was a kid and it was just really comforting and helped me relax enough to fall asleep.

3. Are you open about your past or do you not let anyone in? I’m quite open on here that’s for sure. I’m not nearly as open in person as I am in these surveys.

4. Favourite fast food joint? I don’t have a particular favorite, really, it just depends what I’m in the mood for.

5. Do you think we were put on this earth for a reason? Yes.

6. What is something you have done this year you’re proud of? Nothing. This year has been awful so far due to some health setbacks.

7. Do u ever feel like surveys are usually the same questions? Oh, most definitely. I guess I have to expect that considering how many I take and how long I’ve been doing these things. Still, it does get annoying when the same questions come up a lot back to back. So often I’ll take a survey and then do another after and end coming across the same questions.

8. What were you doing 10 years ago? Ten years ago I was 21. Wow. I was attending community college, I had friends and a social life, I was actually doing something... sigh. Soooo much has changed.

9. Do you call out Karen’s when they’re harassing a cashier? No.

10. Animal crossing , yay or nay? Yay. I was addicted like all of last year and then for some reason I stopped playing a few months ago. I should start up again.

11. Why do you like to do surveys? I just genuinely enjoy doing them. Besides giving me something to do, these are like my diary entries as well. I’m able to vent and ramble, which is often needed. I also like the interesting and random questions to think about and answer. I just like ‘em, man.

12. Did you ever have a MySpace ? Yep. I was super into Myspace back in it’s heyday.

13. Do you think breaks are toxic in a relationship? I wouldn’t say they’re toxic, but I don’t know how well they work out. You definitely have to make sure you’ve very, very clear on what all the break entails and that you’re both on the same page.

14. Do you have a YouTube channel? If no , would you create one? If yes what’s your content? I have a YouTube account so I can subscribe to accounts and whatnot, but I myself don’t make videos. I have no interest at all in that.

15. Are you a math person? Noooo. Math and I have always been enemies.

16. What’s the worse thing someone has said to you? Hm. I feel like the worst things have been said by me to myself. :/

17. Have you ever befriended someone because you felt bad? Kind of. :/

18. Would you ever date someone online? Nahh.

19. Have you been ghosted before? Would you ghost someone? I sure have and unfortunately I’ve done it as well. :/

20. When do you think things will be normal again? I don’t know...

21. Do you watch anime? No.

22. Biggest goal you wanna reach before 2020 is over ? Welp, that passed.

23. How old did/do you turn this year ? I’ll be 32. D:

24. Do you like tiktok? I was hooked for a good while and then fell off. It’s been a couple months now since the last time I’ve been on there.

25. Do you ever miss vine? We have TikTok now. But there were a lot of good Vines that still get mentioned and people remember. That was a whole different time.

26. How are you doing, seriously? In the words of MCR, “I’m not o-fucking-kay.” It’s been rough.

27. Is there someone you want to talk to but you know you can’t? Kind of.

28. Do you make jokes to cope with your problems? Self-deprecating jokes are definitely something I do.

29. Have you ever had someone call you their best friend but you didn’t even consider them a close friend? Yes. :X I feel like I’ve definitely been on the other side of that as well, though. I always felt like I was closer to someone and they didn’t feel the same way.

30. Have you ever dealt with a pathological liar? Not to my knowledge.

31. Long or short surveys? Long.

32. If ur in school , are you doing it on zoom or in class? --

33. Would you ever have a pet rat? Gah, no.

34. Favourite memory with your best friend? There’s way too many.

35. Favourite type of content to watch on YouTube? ASMR, vlogs, Disney related videos (history of Disney and its parks, history and information about the movies and TV shows past and present, theories, fun facts, etc), abandoned buildings, lifestyle videos, some drama videos...

36. Are you allergic to anything serious? No, thankfully.

37. Dream job? I don’t have one. :/

38. Do you think dreams mean anything? Sometimes.

39. Fav clothing brand? I don’t have a favorite brand, really.

40. Do you miss anyone? My loved ones who have passed away.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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babysizedfics · 5 years ago

Note

ok i have two (2) asks and i will send them separately but number one (1) do u think roman uses humor to cope with things when big because like. i relate to roman too much in general but also i really really relate to ur roman in this and i do that way too much because its easier so i was just wondering if that was a thing he did? and if it were to be a thing he did how do u think the others would react? like im self deprecating but is roman? idk sorry rambling 🐝

this turned into a long post exploring romans characterisation so thank u bee anon!!

i think Roman uses humour sometimes but mainly i think its can just be described as acting out? like acting proud and big

i keep saying when roman feels small he acts big and that has nothing to do with being little - when roman feels inadequate and embarrassed and sorrowful (small) he acts loud and proud and confident (big) and stands taller and puffs out his chest - this doesnt mean everytime he is proud he's hiding insecurities, he does it when hes actually happy too. its just like he's trying to force happy on himself by acting like this when hes sad

i think the times he makes jokes are more when he feels awkward. i said before when theyre big and roman wants to support virgil he holds his hand, but he blurts something random or makes a loud joke as he does it to try to distract from the action because its obviously a vulnerable move and he doesnt want anyone to dwell on that

i really don't think my roman is very self deprecating, he acts very proud but most of that is real, he really is pretty full of himself. and he actually has never talked down about himself, he feels bad when hes frightened and he can sometimes think hes stupid but its not that intense and he never voices these things and definitely never makes jokes abt them

he just hates feeling anything less than regal and strong so if he feels scared he feels weak and he pretends to be bigger and more confident because he hopes it will chase away the inadequate feelings, and it does help him a little bit - sure he needs to talk through these feeings to work through them but actually standing taller and being extra big brotherly and protective of vee to distract from his bad feelings does make him feel better in himself and reminds him that even if he feels sad and not very glittery he's still the same brave prince roman

its actually a pretty healthy thing for him i think, since he does talk about his feelings if theyre really bothering him - take chapter 5 of LABD where he sighs dramatically and virgil asks what wrong and roman immediately rants about how he wants to do a valiant act for vee. or in chapter 8 where patton asks him whats wrong and again he sighs dramatically then immediately admits that he's scared the family will split up. he might act out to try not to look weak and sad but he doesnt actually hide his feelings

also it makes him feel safer to know that the others still see him as strong and brave even when he feels down and small

the others do all notice, romans not exactly subtle.

big virgil tends to scoff and fondly calls roman a dumbass or a sap and accepts his hand holds or suggests they do something fun if roman clearly needs a distraction - it's also to make sure roman isnt around logan when he's like this (i'll talk more abt that in a bit)

and baby vee doesnt really notice he just likes that his big brother is babying him more and will subconsciously latch onto him at these times (i think without knowin, vee actually picks up on the fact that roman needs to baby vee to feel better and vee gives him all his attention)

patton thinks its kind of cute that roman preens like a peacock and gets more flamboyant and loud and confident, though he also makes sure to give ro a lot of attention since he clearly needs it - he tends to big roman up like if he's little he'll say things like 'you're such a brave little prince' 'what a big boy you are' 'you're a really great role model for your baby brother roman!' - he highlights the fact that roman is the bigger older brother because that makes little roman feel proud and happy

logan is the one who doesnt take too fondly to it tbh - he doesn't hate it, and he would never ever judge someone for their coping mechanism, but the two tend to clash most when roman acts more cocky (don't tell them but it's because theyre both full of themselves and neither likes to feel threatened by someone else acting more important)

logan also doesnt have much of a filter and will outright state that roman is clearly acting out due to feelings of inadequacy, and that only makes roman lash out with nicknames and mocking logan because sure he loves attention almost always, but when the attention is on how he is messing up he cant stand it - this tends to result in arguments between lo and ro

virgil hates it whenever anyone argues - including himself, he gets shaky from fear of confrontation - it sets of his anxiety and he will actively keep logan and roman away from each other if he notices roman is overcompensating with his ego and pride. he is of course hypervigilant and clocks onto romans weird moods pretty quickly and either gets roman to hang out with him or, if roman is busy or doesnt feel like it, he'll keep logan preoccupied

roman and logans relationship is an interesting one, it's very turbulent. little roman looks up to mom logan a LOT and is a little bit intimidated by him because he thinks his mom is really cool and clever. he can sometimes feel almost scared of logan, though not a lot, just in the sense that he knows logan has a lot of say in what is good for vee's regression and he's scared one day logan will decide roman is one of the things that is not good for vee and will split them up (this is a recurring fear of roman's that's consistent throughout all of the fics: he's scared he will lose his brother - because he already experienced that once)

and when roman forst became a little, logan was actually a bit confused and sceptical, he didn't know that you could be a little without mentally regressing and couldnt figure out why roman did it. it obviously gets resolved before LABD since he treats roman like a kid then, but their relationship is still a little bumpy. they really get into their roles and love playing together and logan does treat the boys as equally 'real' littles, roman still gets bedtime and affection and rules and stuff, but sometimes the facade breaks a little and they both remember that theyre still just adults, theyre still logan and roman who otherwise would never act like this together.

theres a moment in LABD chapter 8 where logan is tickling roman, its very joyful and cute, then a bit later theyve stopped, ro is on his moms lap and vee says he wants to play with roman. roman is reluctant and strokes his fingers along logans arm which is hugging him - he doesnt want to give up this special time with mom because mom is almost never this physically affectionate with him. but logan immediately gets roman off his lap and leaves and its because he suddenly realised 'oh this isnt a child, this is roman, adult roman who is very aware of the fact that i just tickled him and pulled him into my lap'

so logan gets self conscious that adult roman is fully aware of how different and affectionate logan acts as mama logan.

anyway yeah i REALLY went off track im sorry 😳😳

#little/big insights #little/big concepts #asks #🐝 anon #long post

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watchingtheroad · 5 years ago

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Be Your Run-To

Damen struggles in the aftermath of his injury and the reality of losing his remaining family. Laurent helps him cope.

Post-Canon | Hurt/Comfort | Mourning | First Time Bottoming |

POV Switches: Damen >> Laurent >> Nikandros >> Damen

Damen watched as Laurent dissected another letter from Arles over his makeshift desk at Ios, a table and chair he had dragged into what was now Damen’s office space. Laurent loved it for the massive library attached. He had already brought in an entire new shelf on which he would display the books he planned to read separately from the ones he did not. It was very charmingly involved.

Damen loved it for the memories of his childhood—sitting on the King’s lap and reading as a boy, growing and studying alongside him as he worked at his desk—and hated it for the exact same reason.

Reality was strange to think about, stranger for it to be so. That was his father’s desk. His father’s books. His father’s rooms. His father’s throne. His father’s crown. His father’s city. His father’s kingdom.

His father was dead. His brother was dead, buried in the royal crypt with family rather than treated as the gullible traitor he proved himself to be.

Damen had thought he could save them both, will them to life and reason.

He had been wrong.

Grief crashed over him in inconvenient waves in the weeks immediately after his own injury and Kastor’s bitter end. It was different without the constant drama of plotting against the Regent and running around the continent with Laurent. Forced to endlessly sit and heal, Damen had time to dwell in his misery—entirely too much, arguably, that drained him to exhaustion in moments meant for rest—all while continuing plans to stabilize his own government and attempting to solidify an official unity with Vere.

It was quite a lot of work, investigation and tedious conversation: drafting documents, arguing more treason and laws, deciding which policies would be adopted kingdom-wide or remain independent to either Akielos or Vere. The matter of slavery was the most pressing to attend to, and one on which Damen and Laurent vehemently agreed. Total abolishment was the goal. It was a matter of implementation, and not every kyros in Akielos was as amenable to change as Nikandros.

They spent the majority of their days in grueling meetings once Damen was lucid, which began at his bedside, then expanded to common rooms as Damen grew stronger. Laurent had done an invaluable job at handling things when he was not, but there was still substantial progress to be made. He had named Nikadros Kyros in Ios, summoned the few, trustworthy members of the Veretian Council, new appointments included.

It added another layer of difficulty on both sides, given Vere’s chaotic political climate and Kastor’s treason. It was hard to know exactly all the places evil had touched their kingdom, and Laurent’s extended stay in Ios was a disadvantage in finding out and achieving true peace for Vere. None of the Veretians in Ios liked it there, and none of the Veretians in Vere liked that their future King was still away. Laurent’s focus should have been that, not shouldering Damen’s burdens beyond necessity.

As it was, Laurent refused to be parted from him until he was well again. Damen had been adamant for some time that he was well again, despite some moderate discomfort during his deep breathing exercises and soreness that lingered with certain movements. He seemed to be singularly convinced of that. Even Nikandros was on Laurent’s side, a rarity of astronomical proportion.

Under different circumstances, Damen would’ve already progressed his training to more rigorous levels, used physical exertion and pain as a distraction for everything else, then pushed through until it became tolerable. The lack thereof was making him incredibly irritable, but Laurent insisted he take it torturously easy, fretting about him every step.

From the look on Laurent’s face, it appeared whoever wrote the latest letter from Vere was returning the favor in making one irritable.

“What’s the matter?” Damen asked.

With reluctance, Laurent said, “I have to leave for Vere. The people have started congregating outside Arles, which I suspect is diplomatic phrasing for rioting. Resistance from the Regent’s leftover filth. Fucking brilliant.”

Innocently enough, Damen noted, “Going back sooner would have eliminated that.”

“Just what I wanted to hear, Damianos,” Laurent said, voice like the edge of a knife. “Thank you for your helpful counsel.”

“Laurent, I didn’t mean—” Damen started, then stopped, closing his mouth with an internally audible clack of teeth. He took a deep breath, blew it out. “I only meant that Vere needs to see its King. They’ll settle as soon as you enter the city.”

“Do you want me to go so badly?” Laurent asked. “If it will help, you can say it. Let us not pretend I haven’t been worrying you mad.”

“You haven’t,” Damen fibbed.

He had, at times, but only regarding certain things. Being fussed over had never been something Damen was particularly keen on.

Damen said, “You’re the best part of every day I live.”

The former did not make the latter untrue. Their stolen moments were the only thing that kept Damen holding himself together. The source of his foul mood wasn’t Laurent; his concern came from a place of love, Damen knew well enough. It was the circumstances, a result of sadness and lethargy and days and days of complete uselessness that Damen was unaccustomed to and despised to his core. It wasn’t fair to lay his frustrations on Laurent simply because he had nowhere else to aim them, but it’s what he had done.

“Am I?” Laurent asked, the prick self-deprecation clear and sharp. “You haven’t even pretended you want me to stay to spare my feelings.”

Laurent was talking nonsense. Damen ached to erase the doubt in his voice. He went to him, yielding before crossing completely into Laurent’s space where he sat at his table. It was clear when Damen needed to tread more carefully, when Laurent’s defenses were momentarily raised. Damen fancied himself safely inside them, not out in the cold. Still, he waited, until a nearly-imperceptible nod and a softening of eyes gave him the permission he sought.

He slid Laurent’s chair away from the table to better get at him, kneeling in front of him on the floor. Laurent looked at him as though he might break during the mere act of kneeling, but thankfully, held his tongue.

“Laurent, I don’t want you to go,” Damen explained. “These cuffs on our wrists?” He held Laurent’s hand in one of his, and with the other, let his fingers trail across gold. “Everything they stand for, I want. You, I want. But I don’t want you to stay here to the detriment of Vere because you think I need to be watched like an invalid. I am fi—”

“Don’t. Don’t say you’re fine,” Laurent stopped him. “You’ve said that since the moment you very nearly bled to death under my hand, through every complication. Are you so stubborn you cannot see you’re the least reliable regarding your own condition? Your physical state is not my only concern—” Laurent took his face in both hands, his touch gentle as he leaned forward to press his lips to Damen’s forehead, murmuring, “You’ve not been yourself, Damianos. I’m worried about your mind, your spirit.”

Damen clutched Laurent’s wrists, letting out a ragged breath. The whole truth spoken aloud unsettled him to the bone, made everything he fought to bury swell up inside, threatening to burst through his skin. His voice was strained, on the verge of disproportionate emotion, “It’s not you, Laurent. I swear it. It’s me. I’m—”

Broken.

He thought he had been managing, that the moments of shared happiness between them would disguise the torment in his heart.

Laurent cradled Damen’s head to his chest, and Damen’s arms found their way around him.

“You’re grieving, Damen. Your opportunity was stolen from you after your father was killed. It’s perfectly normal to need that time now, after everything. When Auguste died, I—” Damen sensed Laurent hit a wall and bear through it in the next breath. “It took months for the agony to subside enough that I felt I could breathe again.”

It only added to Damen’s guilt.

“Your brother was good, Laurent—” And I took him from you, Damen thought. “Mine tried to kill me more times than I’m likely aware of to accurately count. And my father— You hated my father. He was a ruthless conqueror, and I worshipped him in blissful ignorance.”

“My opinions about Theomedes are irrelevant. He was your father, your only living parent, your King,” Laurent listed, pressing a kiss to his hair, then another. “What you feel is acceptable, no matter how conflicting…There’s no proper strategy in mourning, my love, but you do not have to do it alone in silence. I am here.”

Damen felt his cheeks wet with tears he hadn’t known were trickling free. He buried his face in Laurent’s chest, a choked sob escaping with his words. “It’s impossible to be here, Laurent. Everywhere I look, I see them. I feel like—”

An imposter.

Laurent was the last person who needed to hear that from him. Damen had been groomed for kingship his entire life and felt fraudulent when faced with it now amidst his sadness, particularly having evolved so drastically from who he last was in Ios. Even so, he couldn’t fathom having it thrust upon him as a boy as Laurent did, his grief unimaginable and obstacles unnumbered, the unspeakable abuse he endured.

“Tell me,” Laurent coaxed, his fingers moving in soothing strokes against his scalp. “Let me inside this head of yours.”

A deep, steadying breath.

“There are times I feel Ios doesn’t belong to me. It’s as though my father’s still here, alive in every hall and chamber. I’m so far from the Prince Akielos once knew,” Damen confessed.

Laurent lifted Damen’s head to meet his eyes, delicately wiping beneath them with his thumbs. His smile was soft, compassionate. His eyes shone with love Damen felt unworthy of receiving.

“Damianos, my King,” Laurent said, with a reverence in his voice that throbbed in Damen’s chest and ached through his ribs. “You are twice the leader and ten times the man your father and brother were. Not all change is unwelcome. If you stepped onto the balcony now, Ios would chant your name in the streets. Not your father’s. Not Kastor’s. They adore you. I adore you. Your effortless confidence, the power you hold in your body and words… I aspire to it. Your brother played at ruling. You were born to it. Akielos is yours. These ghosts won’t haunt you forever.”

His words were fleeting warmth wrapped around Damen’s body. He longed to feel it deeper, for them to speak to something solid inside him and hold.

“You’re kinder than I deserve,” Damen said. Then, eager to shift the conversation away from himself, split open as he was, he returned, “It was born in you, too. You’re brilliant, Laurent. I’ve never known a mind like yours. Arles will receive you with open arms, whenever you choose to return. I’ve seen how your people look at you.”

They had lined the streets of every town in Vere, ecstatic to catch a mere glimpse of Laurent as he rode through on their journey to Akielos. If there was residual unrest in the capital due to the Regent, Damen imagined the faction was small.

“If it hasn’t been ripped apart brick by brick before I arrive,” Laurent mused, with an exaggerated sigh. He caressed Damen’s face from brow to jaw. “You look exhausted. Let’s have a hot bath, shall we? Wait for me in your chambers, and I’ll attend you? I have one thing left to do here.”

Damen nodded. That did sound nice.

He shifted to stand, pausing to kiss Laurent on his way. His breath caught, lips trembling as the kiss deepened. His emotions were all out of sorts. Nothing meant more to him than making Laurent happy, merging their lives into one as Damen felt bound to him. He wished to feel better, and he wished to do it beside Laurent.

“Thank you, Laurent… Hurry to me,” Damen said, and because it was all he could muster while keeping his composure, he hoped it conveyed everything he meant.

[THE REST IS HERE]

#captive prince #Capri #damen x laurent #cp fic #damianos of akielos #laurent of vere #first time bottoming #hurt/comfort #post kings rising

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closer-stars · 4 years ago

Text

Purple Skies, Pained Things

Member: Jongho Word Count: ~5k Requested: No Genre: Angst. A lot of Heavy things. A little hope in the end. Content: Allusions to depression, suicide ideation, low self worth, a bit of existentialism. This really is just a product of my own thoughts and dips. This kind of came to me while i was listening to christian yu’s album and his ig live that explained his creative process and decisions into making MITO. In a sense this is my mito? lol. I don’t know why I had Jongho in this too but it happened. I kind of compared my struggle with mental health to paintings and skies, colors and the like. So Yes. If this is a little weird, I apologize. It was a little tricky to write this since I had to be in a certain mood/headspace to write this. lol. Note: This is heavy. If you can’t stomach something regarding mental struggles, issues, I suggest you don’t read this. This went in directions I didn’t think it would go but it went where it went. Like Strength, I won’t put the atzff tags on this since this is a personal piece lmao. I won’t do my usual tag list on this since..well it’s personal? if you see it when it’s up, cool. if you don’t well.. you don’t lol. Gut Feeling and other reqs are in the works! Just gonna take Time. Jongho wonders how you manage on your own. Well he knows you’re independent, always treasuring your alone time whenever you can. But he’s not sure of how you manage when you have these dips. He’s actually not sure if that’s the right question, should he ask why instead? Why do you make yourself go through it on your own? Of course, he has his guesses regarding the reasons but it still runs in his mind.

He watches you from across the room, sitting near a corner. To anyone else, it would look like you were just watching the skyline; watching the sky turn from a bright blue to a myriad of colors before settling into a deep blue sprinkled with stars and bright lights. The sky was always pretty at this hour.

The complete opposite of your mind.

The two of you knew better when you looked like that; you weren’t looking at anything. Your eyes aren’t focused on anything but your mind is. Your mind focuses on thoughts that make you spiral down. When your head spirals, you close yourself from everyone. Your mind is like the night sky: it can bring comfort and solace in a time of quiet but it is also dark and vast, seemingly never ending. The night sky can also bring the terrors of the unknown, the unseen, the lack of control that the day brings. Your mind now is just that without the comfort the night brings, but the numbing fear of what’s beyond.

You feel like a tiny speck of dust. that doesn’t really have much use in a world that keeps moving. Maybe a better comparison would be something like a stormy sky; filled with heavy clouds that would spill forth heavy rain showers. The sudden sheets of water makes everyone hide away. Or rather, a sky tinged with the smoke from pollution; unbearable and frustrating. Just like what you’re doing right now, hiding away from everyone because you think that these days you have will bring nothing but frustration to those near you.

So, what is Jongho doing in your apartment? He had his reasons. For starters, it’s been radio silence from your end. He knows nothing of what has happened to you. Neither do your friends-- well to a degree, they don’t. It’s why he’s here, to check on you. He figured you’d be at home. He knows you well enough, just like how he can tell if the weather will be fine just by a glance at the sky. From what he’s seeing, it’s the calm before the storm.

He knows you don’t sleep much either, or rather, you stay up late into the night only to sleep when the sun’s peeking through the horizon. The deep blues slowly turning into a soft lilacs and blues streaked with bright yellows that bring the safety of a new day: a peaceful slumber. You told him in the past that you’re really just a night owl, a habit formed to cope with the hectic pace of life. A way for you to have some sort of grip on your life. He bought the words for a while, but the more he spends time with you. He’s not quite sure. He doesn’t understand why you shut yourself out from everyone when you need them the most. He does understand how hard it can be to ask for help. Carefully, he approaches your unmoving figure.

“Hey.” He murmurs, settling quietly in front of you. Your eyes flutter to his direction. You see him but the fact he’s sitting in front of you isn’t registering in your head. Maybe your mind’s playing tricks on you, your vivid imagination was always one of your assets. It could also be your downfall.

“Go away..” your voice comes out like a sigh. Just as your mind is like the sky, your mind is just as vivid as paintings of years past. But, just like those paintings, it fades, it gets discolored as time passes by. Small cracks appear on layers of painting, no matter how much protection and preservation you put it through: the wear and tear can and will be inevitable. You assume this is just another way for your mind to make you think worse of yourself. Thoughts reflecting itself onto reality. Whatever reality is supposed to be. With that, you look away from the figure in front of you, staring out the window. The sky has shifted into a deep purple, the lights from the neighboring buildings are flickering on, one by one. The purples gradually turning into artificial shades of yellow and white.

He should’ve expected that, being alone with your own thoughts can get tiring. Even if you preferred your own company, these dips can take a toll on you. Slowly, he takes your hand in his. Something flashes in your eyes, dimmed only by the darkening sky above the two of you. “What are you doing here?” You ask. He notices how dry your voice sounds. How long has it been since you drank water?

He has a feeling rain will come tonight.

The sound of consciousness from you makes him quirk the corner of his lips in relief. “I wanted to check on you.”

A sigh slips out of your lips, your eyes fluttering to a close. Your eyes feel dry. You don’t pull away your hand from his hold. You stay like that, unmoving in your spot, and for a moment you look peaceful, but the impending approach of a storm is warned through the marks under your eyes. Jongho wonders how you’ve been sleeping the past few days. He looks at the time. By now, you should be eating.

“Hey, you need to get some food in you.” Jongho gently reminds you, his voice mirrored by how he squeezes your hand to wake you up.

“I don’t have an appetite…” You reason, despite your excuse you slowly move from your spot.

“At least get something in your stomach? Even some fruits will do.” Jongho returns. “Come, I can make you some food.” He lets you settle down on the chair. You let him move around your place, he’s been here so many times that he might as well have lived with you.

“Have you eaten?” You speak up softly, watching him with heavy eyes. This really doesn’t surprise him anymore, how you’re able to put others before you, even when you can barely do so for yourself.

It takes a while for him to reply to the question. If he gives a clear cut answer, it can make your attention shift to him when the main subject here is you. He runs a few strawberries and an orange through water. “I’ll eat with you.” He returns after a moment of thought.

You shrug even if he can’t see you do so. “Help yourself to whatever I have I guess.” So that’s how the night goes, he eats a meal while you nibble on a few fruit slices that he had freely drizzled with honey. It was quiet as the two of you ate. He doesn’t push you to talk about what’s on your mind, not because he didn’t care but he knows you hate it when people push you to tell them your thoughts, no matter how depressing they can get, you hated being forced. Even if you don’t want him to be here, you have no energy to tell him to leave.

You prod a half eaten strawberry with your fork. Even in the mess of your mind, you wanted to know why he’s doing this. He’s seeing a side of you that you’ve tried so hard to hide from him. As much as you want to cover this from him, it seems too late. Your body can’t get itself to stand up and push him out. What happens instead is a question. “Why are you doing this? You can literally do anything else right now, but you’re here wasting time.”

Jongho stays quiet through your tirade of self deprecating comments. On your normal days, these were covered with your dry humor. You always had a knack at being able to throw a few witty comments at the boys and at yourself. Now, he’s seeing it in its rawest form. He doesn’t like how this is how you see yourself: a shame, wasted potential, lost, the list goes on as you talk. What was once a question becomes an exhausted rant of how you find yourself in this fast paced life. At one point, you ask yourself if the choices you made were the right ones. All your decisions have been based on trying to break out of the chains of expectations. You wanted freedom, to explore the world as yourself.

Now, you didn’t really have a proper avenue to release these thoughts nowadays; you can’t really go out. Your usual coping mechanisms aren’t an option now. You’re just stuck at home. Compared to your peers, they’re able to make the most out of the situation. Those who made your life horrible are prospering now. Those who followed what was expected of them are doing well. You? Hell if you know what to make of yourself now.

He would’ve rebutted all these points you’ve raised but he figures that you need to let them out before letting anyone or yourself fix the issues. You’ve always been like that, thinking out loud until you somehow manage to find a solution. That’s why he just listens, replying when needed but letting you know that he’s giving you his full attention. What he didn't expect was a rumbling thunder.

The storm comes earlier than expected. The two of you can hear the downpour outside your apartment. When you notice the heavy downpour, you shift the topic. “You really don’t need to listen to all of that.” You say as you eat your fruits. It’s a little tricky to try and put your upbeat voice back to use after days of being shut in.

Being able to air out your frustrations should make you feel lighter, but it doesn’t. What it just does to you is feel heavier, fearing that he’ll look at you in a not so nice light because of how different you are now.

That’s how it usually goes.

His meal is long done now but he stays in his seat. “It’s okay.” He says. Those two words make you look at him. “You’ve carried it for so long to yourself. I don’t mind helping you...” He continues. He notices how your eyes sparkle a little brighter under the warm lights in your home. It’s not the curious sparkle that the stars bring on a clear night. It’s a sparkle that carries the burden of a pain that’s been carried for years. A star that’s just near the edge of falling through the sky. Your coping mechanisms were really just there to numb the pain, never to address it, you never knew how to address it until recently. Even then, the process was painful. “Have you showered?” He asks you. At his question, you realize you haven’t. “Go shower? I can take care of these dishes.”

There’s something in his words that pushes you to say something. “Can you stay a little longer?” You’re scared of what could be next, him leaving you alone in your thoughts again. You’ve tried to hide your dips from him, but now that he’s seen it, you doubt there’s any turning back now. You just don’t want to be alone, for tonight at least.

“I’ll stay.”

You ease yourself against the downpour of the hot water. It’s a little shock for your body: the cool air outside the shower against the hot water on your skin. Eventually you relax into it, breathing slowly as you hope that the water washes away the thoughts in your head. The constant sound of water hitting the tiled floor and the sight of water running down your body or dripping down the walls numb your mind from dimming your thoughts. The feeling puts you in a trance of sorts, standing under the shower head unmoving for who knows how long.

“Hey, are you still there?” Jongho’s voice comes from the opposite side of the door. The knocking snaps you awake and you clear your voice, grabbing the soap.

“Yeah, I’m doing fine.” You swear it’s not a lie. You try to make it sound not like a lie despite your racing heart. You stand there as you wash yourself up quickly. You didn’t want him to worry about you. Do you really deserve these worries? Clearly, he has other things to worry about. Why did you ask him to stay longer? He has a life beyond you, so why linger here? What if you’re just hindering him from his schedule and free time with your selfish need for company? These thoughts rise up to the surface as you dry yourself up. He can leave if he has to, you’re not gonna stop him.

You step out of your bathroom in a change of clothes, water dripping from your hair onto the towel on your shoulders. You catch your reflection on the mirror; you’ve lost weight, you look tired, your skin hasn’t been at its best, and before your thoughts spiral you tear your gaze away from the reflective reality on your wall.

The place is quiet. A quiet sigh leaves your lips, of course you’re back on your own. What were you thinking? You’ve managed to deal with these episodes on your own, what makes this any different? What were you hoping for exactly?

“Oh hey, you’re finally out of the shower.” His voice makes you jump in your spot, holding yourself up against the wall as you try to slow down your racing heart. He observes your shocked visage with slight guilt. He notes how raw your skin looks, wondering just how hot you made your water to be. It’s not much but it’s something. These episodes were never as quick as a simple shower. It’ll take time and he’s willing to sit through it with you. Just like the paintings on your walls, those took time to be properly cared for, before its original luster shined through.

“If you have to go elsewhere, it’s okay.” You speak up, your voice is a little clearer now. “I forgot how busy you get…” You trail off, berating yourself for being so selfish.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He says afterwards. “I made sure my schedule was free.” He adds, he approaches you carefully, taking the towel off your shoulders. He lets you follow him to the couch.

You look at him, shoulders dropping as more things blur your mind. Why was he doing this? “Why?” There’s something in your voice that reminds him he can’t leave you like this. You follow him like a lost puppy, too tired to think anymore. The sky looks a lot dimmer now, the still constant downpour of rain dimming the bright lights from the streets.

“I want to check on you.” He sits behind you, drying your hair as he lets you look out the sky. It’s the one thing you would do even in your better days. He’s gotten the habit of thinking of you because of the sky.

It’s the blank look on your face that hurts him too. It’s a look that tries to survive and prove itself worthy of independence. It’s a look that reminds him of artworks that look so breathtaking until you learn of the backstory behind the work. How many people have bought this as you just shooting a deadpan look, as if you didn’t need anyone else? “I’m sorry.” A tired sigh escapes you as you turn your head away from his gaze. You were about to reach for the towel that has slowed down from drying your hair, when Jongho taps your hands gently.

“Drying your hair’s my thing.” He reminds you, a distant inside joke from years past.

The reference makes you smile a little but it doesn’t bring you the comfort you badly need. The pain teeters just at the corners of your eyes and you wonder why your vision blurs, mixing the purples with the yellows, with the whites. The greys have hints of purples and yellows. Everything looked so blurry yet so clear. It’s an unflattering color, it’s rare that you look away from the sky.

It’s when you feel two drops of water against your arm that it clicks. You didn’t want him to see you in tears. How easy it was for him to look past your facade. You’ve put up enough walls, saying it was just you being used to being an only child who could only depend on yourself at the end of the day. You’ve lost count of the times you’ve said lies to stop people from getting too close to you at your weakest. How many times has life tried to take advantage of it?

“Come here.” His voice takes on a tenderness rarely heard from him. It takes a few small shifts from you before you face him. You want to tell him that you’re fine, that it’s not a lie. You’re genuinely doing fine, you want to tell yourself that. But the truth is, you aren’t. Admitting the truth has always been nerve wracking for you. Especially the truth that you carry in your head and heart. There, his arms wrap around you carefully, knowing that at any moment you’ll break. “I care about you, that’s why I do this.” He lets you babble words against his shoulder, truthfully, he couldn’t make sense of the words that tumble out of your lips mostly due to the towel that muffles you and because of how they’re all slurred by your overwhelming emotions and tears. He lets you spill everything though. It could help you once you storm through this downpour, he thinks.

On the other hand, you hate how weak you’ve become, your hands grip to him as if he’s some sort of protection from the darkness that swirls in your head. There’s no shade of purple that can mimic how terrifying the darkness is in your head. Not even pictures can give it justice. It just is.

You don’t like how you’ve become, yet you have no heart to end everything. It’s why you had a terrible phobia of high places. Imagination can only bring you so much but reality was still terrifying in its own right. Life was practically in limbo: wanting escape but not doing it, wanting something better but not being able to acquire it. You see your own life like an unfinished painting, all scribbles, patches of paint but never quite forming an image or a sky that always warns of a storm that never comes.

He feels guilty to have left you alone to deal with this burden in the past but he tries not to dwell in it as he lets you cry. “Do you want to go to bed?” He whispers softly into your hair. You shake your head, not trusting how your voice could shake should you speak up. Receiving nothing but a timid nod, he carefully pulls his arms away from your figure, it’s then that he realizes that you covered your face with your towel. The damp feeling on his skin and shirt were from your hair. Even in your current state, you still find shame in showing your own tears.

He doesn’t let go of your hand as he guides you towards your bed. Now that the two of you are settled down, he made sure that you’re in his arms again. He tries not to force you to look at him. Being at your weakest in front of someone was already a draining experience in itself, but to be in a situation where it’s not being shamed or pushed away was a new experience for you. He hears words come from your covered face and he keeps quiet to strain his ears to understand what you were saying.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Two words, repeated over and over. He looks at your curled figure, how your arm strains to keep itself from shaking as your fingers press against where your eyes are to stop the tears. This hasn’t been your lowest, but it is one of your lowest moments. He shushes you gently, as if consoling a lost animal shivering under the rain. “I got you. It’s okay.” Admittedly, he doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t know what else to do except hold you through this. He’ll hold you through the storms and the darkness. Until you come to surface, he’ll hold you through it. No matter how long it takes, he’ll be here.

You wake up with your blanket up to your shoulders. You try to remember what happened yesterday as you lie awake. What time is it? What day is it? Your thick curtains hinder the sunlight from blinding you. When you blink, you feel how dry and sore your eyes are which only further your confusion of what happened yesterday.Your hand pats one side of your bed: your phone isn’t there. You pat the other side: that’s not a phone. That’s a chest, it’s only then that you realize that’s another person next to you that you realize the weight of an arm on your waist. A spark of fear runs through you, unaware of who could be here, so you look over to your side with caution.

Jongho.

He lies asleep next to you. You wonder what he’s doing here but you have no heart to wake this guy up. Everything’s still murky to you. Quite frankly, you don’t really know how much time has passed. All you know now is day and night. Things still feel floaty, like you’re on a cloud but you shouldn’t be there. The thought alone makes your hands clammy. It makes your chest tighten with thoughts you can’t control, that your hands repeatedly clench and unclench as you try to fight to control your head from going under.

A hand slowly laces with yours and you look over at the owner. He’s awake, sleep still weighing down his eyes but he’s awake. “I got you.” He says, voice raspy with slumber that still clings to his mind and it rings you of the previous day’s happening. A shiver of horror goes through you. He shouldn’t have seen you like that. Nobody should’ve seen you like that.

“I thought you would’ve gone home.” You say as you push yourself up from bed, pulling your hand away. You run your hands through your bed riddled hair, a poor excuse to keep him from holding your hands again. It’s not that you don’t like it, it’s just, you’re scared. He’s seen your worst, and you fear for the worst result.

His now free hand rests beneath his bed riddled hair. He’s never been one to push your boundaries. “I don’t think I can go home knowing how you needed someone last night.” He says this without any of his dry nature. “I can’t go home with a peaceful mind until I know you’re alright..” He trails off, because as much as he wants to stay with you for the next few days. He doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries. You never responded nicely to people who pushed your limits more than they should.

“You didn’t have to..”

“But I wanted to.” He says immediately. Mornings were never his best time either. He looks up at you, no remnants of sleep are on his eyes. Rather, his soft protective nature is there. “We worry for you too. At least, let me care for you the way you’ve cared for me?” He asks. Once he pulls the repayment card, you relent. It’s a small step but it’s a step.

Silence draws over the two of you for a few moments. His words float around your mind. ‘I wanted to… let me care for you…’ It’s an odd feeling to have someone care for you. His words make you wonder if people will worry if you did disappear without a trace.

Jongho reaches for his phone beneath your pillow to check the time. It’s already noon time. “Do you wanna eat? I can make some food for us or we can just order something.”

The power to choose was a heavy responsibility for you. You still weren’t in the mental capacity to choose for yourself but you had enough strength to let Jongho stay for the time being. He notices how you’re still not quite here yet, so he opts to cook something up. He knows your favorites but he can only hope you have enough appetite to eat something.

You peek past your curtains. The sky’s clear now. There’s not a cloud in sight, just a vast expanse of bright blue and sunlight. The streaks of sunlight slip past you and into your room, lighting up the rather dim room. “Why are you doing this? I can survive on my own eventually.” You ask from your side of the bed.

Jongho was already out of bed, making himself look presentable or at least awake. “Yeah eventually, but you don’t have to do this on your own.” He returns. He tries not to look over at you too often when he spouts words like this. You never were the type to look at someone when you say something vulnerable. But he sees how you look from the mirror: looking at your hands, mindlessly scratching at your fingers. “Go freshen up while I make up something to eat.”

You didn’t know how to say it, now with some semblance of control in you as compared to the night before. You just knew how scared you were of wasting yourself away, no matter how tempting it was to press Stop on your own life, it was scary. You were scared he’d leave you too after this. Not everyone has the capacity to care for someone like you, you didn’t even have the resources for professional help. Yet, Jongho’s here in your home. Things didn’t make sense and you weren’t really sure of how to make sense of it all. Will he stay with you through it all?

“I will.” Jongho’s voice cuts through your stormy eyes. They spark a little brighter at his voice, only to darken a little in confusion. He watches you for a moment as the gears in your head work. That’s when you realize you were thinking out loud. “I don’t know what lies ahead of you.” He starts, turning to face you but leaning against the dresser. “I do know that you have what it takes to get through this. It’s going to take a lot of time but you’ll get there.” He flashes a small smile, rare were the times that he’s this raw with you or anyone. “We’ll make do with what we got.” He ends it there before heading to the kitchen.

You slip out of your bed, slightly light headed from the lack of food in your system. Shit, okay maybe you need to get some food in you. You look through your closet for something to wear, noticing the laundry you need to do in the process.

Once you got out of the shower, you’re greeted by the smell of-- were those pancakes? You approach the kitchen, confused but also a little excited to have something in your stomach. You didn’t expect that he’d make your comfort food: pancakes with blueberries. He lets himself indulge as well with some pork belly. Go figure. He even got your cold brew out of the refrigerator with his ever loyal iced americano. “You made all of these?” You ask.

He looks over at you, surprised to have you out of the shower already. In that instance, he takes the chance to look at you closely: the heavy shoulders weren’t as apparent as they were last night, there’s a little spark in your eyes too. “Yeah.” He simply says before returning his attention to the still cooking pancake.

It’s only then that you think of preparing the table as the two of you wait for the food to cook.

You eat slowly and carefully. The splash of flavor reminds you of how hungry you are but you remind yourself to not rush. It’s been so long since you ate properly after all. When he sees you drink your coffee, he feels a little relief. Baby steps. It’s small talk for the rest of the meal, just Jongho filling you in on what he’s been up to: the acting, the performing, the competing. It’s all tiring, but he doesn’t mind. Last night was exhausting for you so you didn’t really mind him carrying the conversation for once.

By the time you ate two pieces of the pancakes, you had a little bit of vigor in you though still muted by the hangover that crying gives you. That’s when you came clean with your own thoughts, though still pessimistic and anxious in its roots, it was a little more coherent than last night. If he looked a little closer into the words you say, you left room for a little hope, a little objectivity. Objectivity, in his eyes, was harder to rebut, to be fought against by the small voice in your head that says otherwise. Still, he listens. He listens to everything that you’ve been keeping to yourself with no judgement. He finds it hard to believe how you’ve been able to keep all these to yourself but at the same time, this is you who he’s talking to.

But you’re sharing the worries now, and that’s what matters. There’s a ghost of a smile on your lips. No malice and pain in it but something else. Something a little softer.

Seeing you like this reassured him. You were at your lowest last night and seeing you slowly crawl out of it gives him relief. He can only do so much to help you, to reassure you, to get you to where you were meant to be in life. It really is just one small step after one small step even after tripping, as long as you take a step afterwards, that’s all that matters.

He glances outside your window, the sky still continues to be bright without a cloud hindering the sunlight. Truthfully, he doesn’t know if the next few days will continue to be on a good note but what matters is now. Just like a painting that has gone through so much damage, it’s still possible to bring it back to its original luster. It will take time and effort from not just one person but it’s possible.

As long as you’re able to walk at your own pace, he’ll be with you.

#my writings #kinda eh but wtv

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