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finch-the-foolish · 1 year

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Okay boys, time for yet another round of angst, plushy Jim edition. Whoo. This is because of @pesky-bird7, blame them for my crimes against the little guy. Also if anyone cares I might compile a list on how well I think people can sew in canon just cause.

threads and seams (and how not to tear them)

by lqmie

TW/CW for self harm, suicidal thoughts and actions, body horror

Jimmy had never liked his seams. They were a reminder of what little he was, what little he had become. Nothing more than a little plush, cursed to live on even in this twisted form.

Besides, they had an irritating tendancy to tear, and he often found himself limping into some half-trusted home—usually whoever's was nearby in which he could assume safety—and awkwardly requesting help patching himself up. Sometimes it was by monsters or accidents or his own twisted hand; his answers were usually the former two, and it didn't take long for him to hear murmurings of his latest screw-up across the empires. He was a point of ridicule, after all.

He was exhausted of it. Exhausted of the cruel jokes and the terrible insults and the constant suffering. He was tired of feeling like a sad little creature of plush, skin forever marred by those damned strings.

Every glance at them brought about a strange sort of anger, furthered still by that awful string at his back, which forced a chorus of humiliating phrases from his lungs with each tug. He hated that, too. He hated it all.

One day, if only to avoid more embarrassing visits to some unkind neighbour's house, he made the decision to get himself a sewing kit—he should learn, he reasoned, being a functional toy after all. As terrible and irritating a fact as it was, it was true. And sure, borrowing it from Scott may prove a mistake in the future, but that hardly mattered to him. He was the sheriff, he made the rules. Who cares what the others say?

After fleeing Chromia with his prize, Jimmy headed home, taking inventory of his new kit in one of the many empty rooms of Tumble Town. That was another resentment—this place had long been lonesome, empty, with few travellers and fewer residents still. On the bright side, nobody was likely to walk in on him and his.. newly procured goods.

Jim smiled, carefully pulling apart the contents of the little bag; a handful of seemingly random buttons, countless needles of assorted sizes, what seemed to be a multitude of thread spools, all varying in remaining length, a rather broken looking tape measure, some rusty scissors (two pairs of them, he later found; both of wildly different sizes), and a seam ripper, among other things he couldn't quite remember the names of.

Reaching out across the floorboards, he picked up the seam ripper. There was a strange temptation in holding the tool, a sudden inexplicable urge to tear out those damned seams and- and- do something, certainly. Recreate himself, but better, even if it took tearing himself apart bit by bit to fix it all.

The idea was oddly tempting; he'd always loathed the strange edges across his skin, always despised how prominent the markings were. And there were other things he could fix, too—small alterations he could easily make. He could become something… else. Something better than the frail little creature he was now.

He gripped the thing tightly, quietly considering the idea. After a moment, he shook his head, setting it back, the reality of doing such a thing dawning upon him.

Jimmy didn't approach that messy bag of supplies until several days later. Today had been particularly harsh—a day of rough comments and insults barely veiled as teasing, yet another attempt at violence—dear god, why did they never really kill him? why wouldn't they let the poor man go if they cared that little?—a tiring, awful day which merely drove home the fact that he wasn't good enough, he would never be good enough like this.

Holding back a storm of emotion, he ascended the stairs, finding the bag sat just where he'd left it, hidden in a long-empty barrel where no one would be snooping.

Jim drew in a sharp breath, a shaky hand dragging it from its hiding place. He rummaged through it, and then, unsuccessful in his searching, dumped the contents onto the floor. He didn't care enough to gather it neat; he just wanted to fix himself, however that may be.

He grabbed at the seam ripper, tentatively weighing it in his hand. He wasn't entirely certain how it worked—he never had been with most sewing tools, frankly—but it didn't deter him. Careful, he held out one arm, staring down at the clear line of stitching; as he did, some awful jab at how easy it would be to merely tear him apart floated through his head, sending a shudder through his form. Jim wouldn't let that happen. He was going to make sure nobody could hurt him again.

The sheriff took in another breath, steeling his nerves, and jabbed the blade into the threads. A sharp pain shot through his arm, and he nearly shrieked, allowing only a pained gasp out. He had to be strong. He had to.

Shaking slightly, he dragged the blade forward beneath the thin ribbons of thread, wincing as they were cut. The slicing was awkward, fraying the threads as the blade passed, and some part of him questioned if he was doing it right.

Still, he shook his head, continuing on. A dull sense of wrongness overtook his mind, and he watched the ripper drag further up, tearing sharp into his thread and cloth. Gods, it hurt. His arm burned, aching with a pain which he shouldn't have even felt—there was naught but a strange, fluff-like material beneath his skin, though looking at it made him ill—and every slight movement sent a jolt of further suffering through him.

Jimmy stared at the frayed line, a sudden, sickening feeling swirling deep in his gut. He… he shouldn't have done this. He…

The thought trailed off, lost by an abrupt swirl of memory; all the taunts, all the menacing, hurtful words floated through his ears in an array of harm, and his illness turned to a stark rage. His mind seemed to watch, distant, as he gripped the seam ripper tighter, tearing it across the remainder of his arm's seam, dragging it across his hand's cruel bindings. He hated it. He hated it all. He wanted it gone now.

On the topic of those taunts…

With a crazed, manic look, he turned, tightly grasping the string which was so annoyingly attached to his back. He wanted that gone, too. He reached back with his other hand, slicing at the thing. A sharp pain shot through his back, and he cried out, something in it drawing him to his senses.

He found himself standing there, a seam ripper with the remnants of his many seams and stitches still clinging to its blade clutched in his hand, shuddering terribly. He stared at it a moment, before throwing it to the floor, gaze quickly returning to the horror which was his arm.

It was mangled, terrible, many of the seams poorly ripped and shredded, cloth holding awkward, barely together. He could clearly see the fluffy something beneath, peeking out in those terrible holes which he'd wrought upon himself.

A sharp sob drew up in his throat, and he let it fall, crumpling to the ground. The movement elicited another pained noise, and he curled in on himself, eyes squeezed shut if only to avoid looking at the horror of his limb.

What in the world had come over him? He felt terribly sick, and yet hollow but for the still-singing edges of pain which graced his arm and back with their awful presence.

How long he sat there, Jim didn't know. It seemed an eternity had passed when a voice rang out through the stairwell.

"Hello? Is anyone there? Is-"

The voice, heavily accented, cut off, a head appearing in the stairwell. Jim just stared, eyes blurred from tears and fright at his own actions.

"J- Jim? What in the world-" The figure—Scott, he now realised—looked over the scene, gaze soon fixing on his largely-limp arm. "Oh. Oh shit."

He started over, crouching down next to the smaller man, who simply looked away, tears still freely falling from his face.

"Jim- what happened?" Scott stared at his arm, eyes wide with horror at the torn cloth, the twisted remnants of thread which had been so poorly removed.

"I- I couldn't take it.. I wanted it gone… I- I hate it- I hate everything-" The words were stuttery, broken by choked sobs, barely coherent.

Scott paused a moment, before carefully venturing, "You… did this? You cut your… seams?"

The sheriff glanced at him, giving a hesitant nod. His uninjured hand gestured weakly to the seam ripper, still cast aside on the wooden planks.

Scott stared at the thing, the pieces quickly falling into place in his mind. Then, he turned back, gently grasping Jim's unharmed shoulder.

"Why, exactly, did you cut them? Are you-" Scott stopped, suddenly, spotting a thin cord left on the floor just behind the pair. One hand, shaky, rose to his mouth as he realised what it was.

"J- Jimmy-" He pulled the small man into a light hug, careful not to disturb his wounds. "I…"

Scott sat back, a soft sigh escaping him. He could ask questions later. All that mattered right then was making sure Jim didn't fall apart completely.

"C'mon. I'll help fix up your arm, if you're willing to let me."

Jim paused a moment, before nodding, letting Scott take his arm, wincing at each small motion.

It took what felt like hours of careful work, hours of twinging pain, but Jim's arm was finally restored. As for that stupid drawstring, he'd managed to convince Scott to leave it, his disdain of the thing coming in drawing, sharp breaths as memories of all the times others had taken advantage of it returned.

Scott bandaged up the wounds, too, setting Jim's arm into a little makeshift sling to keep it from tearing anew. Alongside these physical repairs, though, were more mental assurances, promises that he was not hated, not despised and unwanted, that there were people who cared, who loved him as he was.

It was hard to believe, after all that time of hurt, but Scott still stayed with Jim for several days longer, watching to ensure he recovered. He took the sewing kit as well—he'd been wondering where it had gone ages ago—and Jimmy was glad to see it gone. Perhaps he could afford to stop in Chromia next time he had such an accident.. perhaps he wouldn't hear of his misfortunes for ages to come there.

Perhaps he really was loved. Perhaps he really was enough, even as a being of thread and cloth. Perhaps he could be alright.

#this post was brought to you by The Dismemberment Song. A Sadness Runs Through Him. and Boreas.#anyway guess who learned how to use a seam ripper (and how not to!)#guess which method mr the sheriff used!#also I've been reading Frankenstein (the original one with the fun early 19th century writing) so uh #guess whose writing style is gonna subconsciously mimic dead people again?#uhm anyway. writing yay. had more fun than I should've with this.#time to go yell about my baby boy faerie jim now :D #lqmie says things #writing #empires smp #jimmy solidarity #TW self harm #TW self mutilation #TW suicidal thoughts #gods my writing is fucked up #is it the mental illness or the book about mankind's fallacies? yes.

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bangtanloverboys · 3 years

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found again // jhs

summary - forever was a very long time to be alone, but it was the safeest way to save yourself the heartache of losing loved ones. despite that, you still find yourself falling in love with hoseok

pairing - hunter!hoseok x immortal female!reader

genre - fluff, angst; reincarnation au

word count - 5.0k

warnings - strangers to lovers, hisorical inaccuracies, reader is centuries old, takes place in late 1700s, “i can fix that”, falling in love, kissing, proposal, mentioning of harming self, major character death, dogs die, im sorry everything i write of hoseok is sad but happy ending!!

author’s note - another fic inspired by ABC Forever, because i love the concept and i miss it

After nearing three centuries of life, one would think they’d get used to being alone. To the quiet still air of an empty home, void of a family. But it never did, you could never get used to it. It wasn’t that you purposefully chose to live a life of solitude, but rather found it the best way to live. If you were alone, you couldn’t get hurt. With no roots, it made moving from place to place easier. The only thing that got you through it all was thinking back on your family.

They were long gone by now, but that didn’t change the fact you still thought of them often. More than once, you would dream of what they would have thought with each place. How your mother would move every bit of furniture until it looked just right, how your father would go on about how far it was from the village, or how your little sisters would run about the cabin entirely, claiming it was perfect.

Several times you would get so caught up in your daydreams, you would even call out to them, only for your voice to die out before their names could even fully fall past your lips. Each time you’d wince at your own foolishness, before sighing, returning to the task you were doing.

That was simply how you lived until the day that Hoseok arrived.

You were deep into the woods, picking wild berries when a rustling was heard from across the clearing you were in. Cautiously, you made your way over to the rustling bushes. Right as you were about to peek behind them, a young man popped out from behind them. You let out a scream as you stumbled back, tripping over your skirt and sending you tumbling into the dirt.

“Oh my- I’m so sorry!” The young man spoke as he rushed over to you, helping you back to your feet.

“What were you doing? Were you watching me?!” You exclaimed, pushing him away from you as soon as you stood up.

“No! I promise. I was hunting when my dogs stopped.” It was then you were suddenly aware of the two dog heads that poked out from the branches. “I thought they caught a scent of maybe a deer but uh, seems like they found you,” he chuckled nervously, before his eyebrows shot up. “Where are my manners, I’m Hoseok,” he said, holding his hand out for you.

You stared at it for a moment, before you gave him your name, placing your hand in his. Your hand in his grip, he raised your knuckles to his lips for a kiss.

“Pleasure to meet you.” You swore your face grew hot at those words. It had been years since any man had shown you any sort of affection, even if it was the smallest bit. “What are you doing out here?”

“I- uh, berries.” You gestured to your basket that you left across the clearing. “Collecting some for a pie.” You’re unsure why you felt nervous all of a sudden, but with Hoseok’s gaze on your, it made it difficult to not feel shy.

“Berry pie? Oh that sounds delicious.”

Before you could even comprehend what you were thinking, you found yourself asking, “Would you like some?”

“Pardon?” He furrowed his brows at you.

“I mean,” you cringed at yourself before you started over, “would you like to come over? It should only take a few hours?”

A smile lit up his face, and you swear you don’t think you’ve ever seen a more beautiful smile. “I would love that.” The both of you walked across the field, picking up your basket as you reentered the forest, heading into the direction of your cottage. Glancing behind you, you saw the two bloodhounds following close on his heels. No doubt noticing how you kept glancing behind him, he introduced them. “Their names are Mickey and Ann.”

“They’re beautiful,” you complimented.

The rest of the journey back to your cottage was in silence, but it was not uncomfortable. Reaching your small little property, you felt uneasiness wash over you as you motioned to your small cottage. It was already several years old by the time you moved into it, windows didn’t shut right and it took a couple nudges to fully close the door; but it was home. If Hoseok thought any less of it, he didn’t say anything, besides ordering the two dogs to stay put at the front door.

Once inside, you began to prepare the pie crust. On occasion, you’d glance up at Hoseok who was staring at the small things you had collected over your life, mainly assorted coins from each country you visited and a few books. Picking one of them up, he began to flip through it.

“Do you actually understand this?” He asked, gesturing to the words on the page.

“Italian? Yes.” No doubt it was probably one of the first languages you learned when you discovered your affliction. Over the past few centuries, you found out you had quite the knack for picking up languages.

“You must’ve had some fancy schooling,” he whistled as he set the book down.

“Not really,” you flushed as you kneaded the dough. “Just knew someone who taught it to me.”

“Family?” He asked.

You shook your head no. A small Italian artist took you under her wing for a handful of years, deeming you her muse. In return for being the source of her inspiration, she taught you her language.

“Where is your family?”

The question had you cease your kneading. You should have known the question would’ve been asked at some point or another. Not to mention, you were somewhat of an enigma to the nearby village. A young well read woman from far away living in a small abandoned cottage, what could you possibly be doing all the way out here? No one ever said anything to you about it, but you knew they certainly thought something of it, judging by the stares you received when you’d walk into town. If he’d ever been, there was a strong possibility he knew of you already.

“Gone,” you answered, resuming your kneading. “Just me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that.” His voice was soft as he apologized, like he regretted asking.

“Not your fault, they’ve been gone for a while.” A long while.

The comfortable silence was gone, replaced with an air of tension. Like a string held so taught that the smallest movement would cause it to snap. The topic of your family always stung, no matter how much time had passed.

Quite possibly wanting to ease the awkward atmosphere he created, Hoseok quietly made his way over to you in your small kitchen. Standing beside you, he smiled.

“What can I do to help?”

Pushing down the butterflies that had erupted in your stomach, you stepped to the side and handed him the basket of wildberries you collected. “Make the filling?”

The rest of the afternoon consisted of both of you struggling to make the pie. Hoseok apparently wasn’t all that good with following directions as whenever you turned your back to do something, he would try and sneak a nibble at the filling. On occasion, he’d inquire about your knowledge of languages; curious to learn different phrases. It was only when you put the pie in the oven did Hoseok finally cease his linguistic questions. Sitting on a stool, you allowed yourself to catch your breath as you watched the young hunter, who’s gaze was fixated on your roof.

You were well aware of the shape your cottage was in, due to its old age it was in constant need of repairs. The most important one being the leaks in the roof, thankfully it was the dry season so you didn’t have to go about fixing them just yet, but you knew you’d have to get to it eventually.

“I can fix that.” He gestured up to the roof.

“Can you really?” You raised a brow at him.

“Consider it my way of repaying you for the pie.”

And that was the beginning of your friendship with Hoseok. He’d stop by every other day, tools in hand and work on sealing up your roof. A few times, he’d even bring in a few of his kills, offering it to you to make some dinner. Each time you refused, but he always insisted.

“A lady needs her food.”

A little over a week had passed and Hoseok finished the roof. It was then you realized how badly you hated being alone. You’d missed having someone to talk to, to cook for. Having grown so used to his presence in that week, you pointed to the old busted chicken coop that resided on your property. It had been empty since you’d moved in and you thought having fresh eggs from a nice chicken coop would be nice. Without hesitating, he agreed to fix the coop. And your front door, and your windows, and your fence. Each time he completed something, you found something new for him to fix.

While he worked on repairs, you’d either read or cook up dinner, not only for you and him, but for his dogs as well. Mickey and Ann were complete sweethearts, waiting patiently by the front door for their owner to come in and join you all for food. When he was working on your windows, more than once you saw him peeking through as you sat at your kitchen table reading as Mickey laid his head on your lap.

Eventually, the cottage was practically brand new. There was nothing else to be fixed and you had to prepare yourself to say goodbye to Hoseok. Your heart ached as he walked away from your home for the last time, his dogs trailing behind him. The following morning, you resumed your usual chores and activities; tending to your (new) chickens, work in your garden, and reread your books.

You’d been fighting off tears all day, and it was as you were preparing supper that the tears began to fall. Perhaps it was foolish of you to get attached to him anyways. No matter what would have happened, it would’ve turned out the way it usually did: with you disappearing.

A knock on your door, pulled you from your thoughts. For a moment you were confused, no one ever from the village ever came up to visit, you wondered what could’ve happened. Quickly, you wiped the tears from your eyes and made your way over to the door, where the unknown visitor knocked away.

“Coming, I’m coming!” You called as you swung the door open, revealing- “Hoseok?”

The young man was at your door, a handful of freshly killed quails in hand, and both hounds standing behind him, panting happily. “What, I’m not late am I?”

“No, no,” you shook your head, “that’s not it at all. I just- I wasn’t expecting you?”

“Why wouldn’t you be expecting me? I thought we had a nice little arrangement going on?” He questioned.

“We did, but I have nothing else for you to fix so I assumed-”

“Y/N,” he cut you off. Cupping your cheek, you had no choice but to look up into his sweet, adoring face. “I thought it was pretty obvious you wanted me around for some other reason besides being your handyman.”

Feeling your face grow hot, you slowly nodded.

He chuckled at you softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “So is it alright, I come over for supper?”

“Of course,” you breathed out. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so happy in so long.

So the two of you fell into a routine of sorts, he would stop by some meat for you to cook for your supper. Over the meal, you’d catch up on your day to day activities. By the time the food was gone, and you were with full bellies, Hoseok would excuse himself.

“Goodnight, I’ll see you in the morning,” was what he would say as he left your cottage for his own home, somewhere in town. A few times you’d stayed up so late that it was well past midnight, so you offered him your place for the night. Purely because you didn’t want him out so late, but each time he refused; saying it wouldn’t be right.

Slowly, your dinner meetings would begin happening in the day time. The last few days of summer were upon you and you wanted to spend it with Hoseok, having a picnic with him.

You dragged him up a tall grassy hill, basket full of bread, cheese, and jam. He laughed as he allowed you to pull him up towards the top, Mickey and Ann trailing behind at his heels, barking happily. Hoseok allowed the dogs to wander around the area, occasionally calling them back if they went too far.

All set up, you both sat down and enjoyed your lunch. It wasn’t long after you finished that you scooted closer to him, and closer until your hands were almost touching. You were about to slip your hand underneath his when Hoseok’s hand moved, taking your’s and placing it in his. His hands were rough to the touch, small calluses riddled his palms. A smile playing on your lips, you rested your head on his shoulder.

Neither of you moved for hours as you watched the day go by from that little spot on the hill, relishing in the late summer sun. Out of all the years you lived, you had to think that that moment there was the most peaceful. There was no need to run, no overwhelming sense of loss, just you and Hoseok.

“What was your family like?” He questioned.

Taking a deep breath, you began talking about your late family. “My father was a miller, he’d often take me on his runs to deliver flour, giving me a little sack to carry as well,” you smiled fondly at the memory, the villagers chuckling at you as you teetered behind him. “When I was even younger, I used to lay down by the fire and watch my mother sew. . . scolding me for growing up so fast.”

“Did you have any siblings?”

“I had two younger sisters, parents weren’t able to have anymore after the youngest,” you sighed, remembering how hard your parents tried. “They adored flowers, wanting to cover the cottage we lived in with honeysuckle and wild flowers.” Your vision started to get blurry as tears welled up in your eyes.

“They sound wonderful,” Hoseok murmured.

“Yeah, they were. . .” You sighed, blinking back the tears.

“Hey,” he pulled his shoulder away to look at you. “You’re okay, it’s okay.” Hoseok’s hand moved to cup your cheek, brushing the stray hairs from your face. “Your parents are looking down on you, so proud of the woman you are today.”

Meeting Hoseok’s eyes, you’re overwhelmed with the love and adoration pouring from his gaze. Never in your three hundred years had a person ever looked at you that way. As much as you wanted to give into his love, you were scared of the inevitable. One day Hoseok would begin to age and he would notice you still look the same as the day you met. He would grow old before your eyes, leaving you no choice but to leave him broken hearted. To love him would be selfish of you.

The sound of his voice calling your name pulled you from your spiral. You watched as his eyes flickered down to your lips for a moment, before he slowly leaned in. For the first time ever time felt like it stood still. There was no inevitable ticking clock, no fear or thoughts of the future. Just you and Hoseok, on that grassy hill on a late August day.

You should’ve known better than to have let him kiss you, as you knew as soon as you felt his lips on yours, there was no way you’d be able to let him go. Being alone for so many years, perhaps this time you could allow yourself to be selfish. One day you’d tell him about your curse, but until that day came, you were going to let yourself be with him.

As the seasons changed, your relationship with Hoseok only grew stronger. He’d visit you daily, bringing gifts of flowers, baked goods, and other assorted courting gifts. The two of you would spend all day together, reading or he’d help you take care of your chickens. Each night, he would leave, despite your insistence on him spending the night.

“I’m courting you, let me do this right,” he whispered once as he kissed you goodnight.

While you appreciated the sweet sentiment, he should’ve known your relationship was anything but orthodox. If your mother was still around, she surely would’ve been scandalized to hear you kissed him before you even married him. In fact the more you thought about it, the more horrified your mother would be at what you’ve done before marriage. But despite everything you may have done in the past, everything with Hoseok felt like a first.

Whenever Hoseok was with you, never did it feel like time was passing. Like it was only the two of you in your own little bubble of the world, frozen in time. Thoughts of your curse were far from your mind, but each time he left for the night, you knew you had to tell him eventually.

As the days grew colder, that ache you felt in your heart only became more apparent. Soon, you’d think to yourself, I’ll tell him soon. But it couldn’t come soon enough.

Snow soon covered the land, leaving you and Hoseok nothing much but to huddle yourselves inside your cottage. Both of you were huddled in front of your fireplace, desperate to keep warm. Hoseok’s dogs were curled up beside you as well, Mickey’s head resting on your lap as you lazily stroked his fur with one hand. You were rereading one of your novels, simply enjoying the warmth of the fire when you could feel Hoseok’s eyes on you. It wasn’t uncommon that he would stare at you as you did any sort of task, but there was something different about him. Behind his eyes, there was a particularly soft warm glow, making your body feel a thousand times more warmed than the heat of the fire in front of you.

“What are you staring at me like that for?” You finally asked, setting your book down.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

Within an instant you felt your cheeks warmed by his words. “Yes,” you responded shyly, avoiding meeting his eyes.

Scooting closer to you, he took the book out of your hand, placing it off to the side. Both hands now free, he took them in his as he said your name. “I don’t know how else to say this but, I love you. I don’t know exactly when I fell for you, but I don’t think I ever want to stop.” Removing one hand from yours, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a delicate copper band.

A gasp escaped your lips as he held out the ring for you.

“It would give me the greatest pleasure, if you were to be my wife.”

“Yes,” you whispered. “Yes, yes!” You repeated as he slipped the ring onto your finger. Not even looking at it, you threw your arms over his shoulders. Unprepared for your sudden movement, you both went tumbling to the floor, the dogs whined as they rushed to move away from your colliding bodies. You pressed your mouth to his, smiling into it as he returned your kiss.

Until that moment, all your kisses had been brief. Fleeting kisses of hellos and goodbyes, never lasting more than a second. This kiss was different. His hands held your gently at your hips, keeping you in place on top of him. A fire ignited deep in you as you kissed him, you didn’t want to let him go now, not tonight. Keenly, you began peppering Hoseok’s entire face with kisses. His grip on you tightened as your lips traveled lower along the side of his jaw, nibbling at his neck.

“Wait,” his words came out in a groan. Calling your name, you only responded by moving back up to his lips, wanting to kiss him again. “No, not yet.”

“Hoseok, please,” you whined, breathless from the kiss.

“I know, I know, my love,” he panted as his hand came up to cup your face. “It’s getting late,” he sighed, noticing how dark the sky was outside once you were both sitting up again.

“You could stay the night,” you offered once again. Before he could protest, you continued. “Besides, we’re engaged now. What difference would it make?”

Hoseok rolled your eyes at the logic. “The difference is I would like my first time with you, to be with you as my wife.”

“You’re such a romantic,” you huffed as he stood up, gathering his things for him to leave.

Once all his things were together, he lowered his head down, kissing you one last time. “Goodnight, my love. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, Hoseok and his dogs left just like they would any other night.

You stared at the door, waiting for the faint crunches of his footsteps in the snow to disappear. Now alone, you knew you had to tell him. Hopefully his love for you would trump any doubts he would have. While you could try to hurt yourself as proof, you doubt he’d want to see you harmed. Death was a jarring thing, no matter if you were to come back or not. Regardless of the outcome, you knew you’d tell him tomorrow.

The following day, you got up like you would any other. You got yourself dressed, and began your daily activities. Everything was the way it normally was, but something felt off. You couldn’t place what was, but you knew deep down that something wasn’t right.

Covering yourself with a thick shawl, you made your way over towards your chicken coop. Picking out the eggs from your hens, ready to make something for breakfast. Once you had enough, you made your way back over to your house. It was then you heard barking.

Turning your head, you saw the familiar faces of Mickey and Ann, but there was no Hoseok. Setting the basket down, you lowered yourself to the ground, ready to greet the hounds.

“Hey, hey,” you cooed as you pet the dogs, both of them clearly very distressed. “What’s going on? Where’s Hoseok?” As the mention of his name, Mickey barked at you while Ann whined, pulling at your skirts.

“Excuse me, miss.” A new voice called from across the way. Looking up, recognizing the face as the innkeeper. You’d seen him a few times in town and Hoseok spoke of him often, as he had been renting one of his rooms the past few months. “You knew Hoseok, correct?”

“He’s my fianceé,” you responded cautiously as you straightened up. You hugged your shawl tighter around you as the innkeeper’s eyes saddened at your words. “Why? What happened?”

“I’m very sorry for your loss, miss.”

“What?” That moment, you could’ve sworn your heart stopped. Deep down, you wish it did. No, Hoseok couldn’t be gone. It couldn’t be. You wanted to accuse the innkeeper of lying, or perhaps he mistook someone for Hoseok. But the look in his eyes was clear: Hoseok was dead.

A ringing started in your ears as you stumbled back into your cabin, the dogs following after you. Barely able to hear any other word the innkeeper might’ve said, but it didn’t matter anyways. Hoseok was gone. There couldn’t be anything else to be said.

Alone once again in your home, you collapsed onto the ground. Opening your mouth, a deafening wail passed your lips. You had died a number of times by now; you’d been poisoned, stabbed, hung, shot, drowned. You’ve felt almost every measure of pain there was, but nothing compared to the pain you felt when you’d lost your beloved Hoseok.

You became a ghost of yourself after that day. Simply going through the motions of each day. Your only company was Mickey and Ann, who too missed their late owner. They were your only comfort, knowing that taking care of them was something Hoseok would’ve wanted you to do. Every night, they slept on your bed, curled up beside you as you lazily pet their aging bodies.

Ann was the first to die. 10 years have passed since you lost Hoseok. You’d moved out of that cottage a few years prior, knowing it was only a matter of time before the village had caught on to your affliction. The move was particularly hard on the two hounds, not wanting to move far from the only town they’d ever known. But you had no choice. It became very apparent that Ann wished to return, always sleeping by the door, hoping you’d change your mind. That’s how you found her one spring morning, lying quietly by the door, having passed in her sleep.

You buried her in your garden, under a bed of roses.

Having lost both his sister and Hoseok, Mickey followed soon after. He rarely left your bed, only getting up to eat or to go outside. It was only three months later did you bury him beside Ann.

The only reminder you had left of Hoseok was the ring on your finger. You rarely took it off your finger, fearing that one day you might forget it or Hoseok. Often you’d find yourself staring at the copper band. It was simple, bearing no special engravings or jewels, but it became your most prized possession.

Unfortunately, time didn’t stay still for you to wallow in your misery. You had to keep moving forward. But as time moved on, so did the world around you. It was strange how fast technology advanced, but as helpful as it was to the people around you, it became your worst nightmare. It became harder and harder to disappear, small towns and far away cabins no longer felt like the safe haven they once were. Which was how you found yourself deep in the city.

It was strange how easy it was to disappear, to simply become another face in the crowd. No one spared you a second glance, no matter how many times you may have seen them over the years, no one recognized you and your lack of aging. As long as you kept to yourself, you managed to stay hidden in plain sight.

Off the corner of 3rd street, you had your own little hole in the wall bookstore. You purchased the store from a sweet old couple a few years back, it was a quaint little bookshop, already having its own group of loyal customers. On occasion, you would get a few new faces, but it was usually the same ones everyday.

Until today when you saw a face you hadn’t seen in almost 300 years.

Per your usual morning routine, you were taking inventory of the store when you heard the bell over the front door ring. “I’ll be with you in just a moment!” You called out, trying to finish the last few rows of books. Finished, you made your way back towards the front of the store, dusting your hands off. “Well, is there anything I can help you with-” You stopped dead in your tracks as you saw the man you had entered your store. His eyes were cast downwards and he looked over the titles of the front shelves. Hearing your arrival, familiar dark eyes faced you.

“I’m just browsing,” he said, lips curling into a smile you swore you almost forgot.

In front of you, was Hoseok. It was, had to be. He looked every bit the same as that cold winter night when you last saw him. Your mouth opened and closed several times, before you finally gained your senses.

“Well, just, let me know if there’s anything specific you had in mind,” you responded, smiling as you spun around on your heel, wanting to make a break for your back office.

“Actually, there might be something.”

Swallowing thickly, you turned back to face him. “Oh?”

“I’m thinking of getting into cooking, do you have any cookbook recommendations?” He asked.

“Y-yeah, follow me.” Quickly, you walked over towards your cookbook section, feeling his eyes on you as you walked him over to the shelves. Dragging your fingers over the spines, you pulled out the one you were looking for. It was an older copy, you recognized from the late 80s. Inside were recipes of different types of baked goods and other dishes. “This one, I think I’ve made just about everything in it twice,” you said, pulling it off the shelf and handing it to him.

As the man flipped through the pages, you found yourself fiddling with the ring that now hung around your neck. Long ago, you strung a chain through it, nearly losing it down the drain. You stared at him in front of you, still not able to wrap your head around it. After nearly six hundred years, you don’t think you’ve ever seen the same face twice. Maybe this was your second chance with him, to start over again. But at the same time, you knew it would be foolish. The man in front of you was a complete stranger, not Hoseok. For all you know, he could be completely different than your long lost fianceé.

Shutting the book, he nodded. “This is perfect.”

Shaking you from your thoughts, you nodded. “Great. I’ll ring you up over here.” Walking back towards the cash register, you both fell into a silence as you rang him up. “Alright, here you go,” you smiled, handing him the book.

“Thank you so much.” Cookbook and receipt in hand, he made his way towards the front door. He couldn’t go just yet, there was something you needed to know.

“Wait!” You called out right as he placed his hand on the door. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name?”

That brilliant smile played on his lips again as he responded. “Jung Hoseok.”

#btsghostie #jung hoseok x reader #hoseok x reader #hoseok fluff #bts x reader #bts fluff #hoseok fanfic #hoseok angst #bts angst

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 3 years

Text

Into The Thick of It (1)

Loki x Female Reader

Chapter 1: The Cult

Series Summary: Her work as an agriculturist nearly takes the readers life is not for a stranger (and his weird looking dog) who later turns out to be the God of Mischief. Thrown into a completely different realm, you want to figure out a way home while trying to stay out of the way of this literal God. But fate has its own plans for the two of you.

Written for @tarithenurse and her #Taris1Kchallenge

Warnings: torture, sacrifice, undertones of rape

Word Count: I am on a break. It feels good to just breathe without dreading the rest of the day. Why is work so punishing?

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

One single machine whirrs in this dull laundromat. The light above you flickers at intervals so regular you have already made a beat out of it. The only other sound distracting enough is some old music playing on the radio at the front desk where no one sits at this hour. And that fan that seems to be breathing its last over your head. "Yeah, it's unbelievably quiet here," you mentioned in a soft tone before looking around the empty space. "I guess I'm glad I only had to stop for three days here." "What? Are you not going to explore this place?" your friend, Zaira's voice crackles through the phone. You shrug despite knowing she cannot see you. "I don't know, Zai, this place gives me the creeps for some reason. I am only hanging around here because Prashant wants to revise the reports I sent him of the soil composition before he gives me a green light to leave this place." "Damn! That bad?" "Oh! You have no idea!" You look around once again. The front desk guy has just come back in his old Chevrolet and the clock has struck nine. "Zai," you whisper in the lowest tone possible, watching the man whistle as he gets out of his car without closing the door, "there are no kids in this village-slash-town." He walks to the back to open the trunk of his car, whistling a somewhat familiar tune. "That's...not haunting at all!" Zaira's sarcasm can be heard in her surprised tone. "Well, what's more haunting is the fact that the youngest person here is an eighteen-year-old boy who keeps showing up anywhere I go and keeps staring at me funny." The man shuts the hood with a loud thump and you can see a fresh bundle of store-bought rope, a baseball bat, a bottle of some chemical-probably for cleaning- and a pair of rubber gloves as he starts walking to the entrance. "Allah-" Zaira takes the Lord's name in surprise- "no wonder they have The Sacrifice playing somewhere there." The man sets everything on the front desk, still whistling the same tune, which you now come to realise is the song that is currently playing on the radio. "The...the what?"

"The thing playing in your background," Zaira comments, "it's playing on a two strong instrument with a looping chorus. It's a pagan ritual song that is sung by some orthodox communities that still present a sacrifice to their pagan gods. We learned this in the summer session for cult studies, boo. Oh, wait. You were back home that time. The chorus basically says 'here's your sacrifice, now pay my dues'." Not a word of what Zaira said is heard after the pagan ritual song because suddenly all the materials resting on the front desk are making sense. So is the creak of the back door that opens to let the only teenager of the town in. Your body is frozen in place, your mind has gone blank. One moment you are running for the exit. And the next, you are lying on the floor with the two men hovering over you while the song calling for your sacrifice slowly fades away. . It is the discomfort from the heat that wakes you up. The sweat and stickiness all over your body slowly registers in your brain that alerts of a throbbing ache at the back of your head with a bang. Everything is a blur for a few moments; till the lights morph into fire beacons and the sun transforms into a bonfire, the figures moving around you become humans with faces smeared in blood. Your clammy skin shines in the light of the bonfire, your hair sticking to any part of you. Tears are rolling down the edge of your eyes while your brain is registering this new pain altogether from the gag in your mouth. You try to move your hand to touch your skull where it hurts, but are unable to do so. My hands...I can't move them. Your dizzy brain gives your body the command again but in vain. "She's awake!" a raspy voice pierces through the air. And within a speck of a second, all the memories start rushing in. Y/N? Hello? Babe, can you hear me? Adrenaline shoots up in your system and your senses are heightened. The smell of kerosene is heavy in the air along with the crippling stench of burning flesh. You have been bound to a pole with your hands behind you, the bonfire in front of you, the forest surrounding you from every corner and the moonless sky on top of you. The faces in the fire are all familiar. The residents of this town, all staring at you while you struggle to get out of the ropes cutting through your skin, stop their movement to pick up the bowls kept in front of them and drink its contents. Your cries are muffled; partly because of the gag and partly because of the sobs that want to escape your throat just like your tears. Your already broken body jumps when the oldest woman in the group starts shouting phrases in a language unknown to you. And just as she begins, everyone around her takes out a dagger and starts moving in your direction. Your heartbeat seems to drop for a moment. They can see the horror in your eyes. But that does not stop their moments. The woman's chants grow heavier as her hand moments grow more vigorous. The youngest of them all skips a step or two to straight away jump on the platform where you are kept on display. He looks around once and turns to you to move your sweat laden hair strands away from your face. His pale fingers are cold, almost icy to the touch. "Don't worry, I'll get you out of here," he whispers close to your ears. Your sobs turn to sniffs to hear his words and look into his eyes. Those grey irises are trying to dig straight into your soul. "Trust me." Your instinct- which has never been wrong in your life- is already moving your leg to bend the knee and get his balls. And you do. Watching him writhe in pain for one long satisfying moment as he curses you from heaven to hell. But he gets back up, with the eyes of a madman ready to kill. You are crying out still, for anyone who will listen, in heaven or hell, as he takes you by your throat. The venom in his hold is enough to take your life. "The only way out-" he says close to your face- "is through, you cunt." One last prayer comes out of you as a whimper before you wait for his dagger to meet you. In the next heartbeat, everything turns white. . Everything is blinded by a white light. It does seem to be the end. Why did I have to die like this dammit?! A Buzzfeed Unsolved episode?! But something does not sit right. The white light should be the end, right? Then why can feel something wet under my h- Before you realise you are tumbling down the steepness of the forest. Your body can feel every rock and every pebble on the way down the seemingly endless slope. It seems like a long while when your limbs finally skid on flat rocky terrain, bringing the ringing pain to a halt before it can bounce all over your body a bit louder in the deafening silence. The first thing your senses do is look for any sign of danger around you. The forest is dark. And apparently different than the one you were in before. The trees are taller and with trunks that would not fit in your hugs. You cannot see their ends in the sky from where you lay. Not weird at all. The silence too sends your wounded heart into an anxious stir. Not even the cicadas speak here. Am I...dead? Now that definitely stirs something out there. A twig breaks in the distance. You pause your breath and shush your racing heart. A soft rustle of leaves can be heard somewhere that lets your sweat run cold all over the body. It is hard to breathe through the gag as it is, and you are standing nowhere near a hiding spot, making your basic instincts run wild with any shadow you see in this treacherous night. So all you do is stand as still as a trembling mouse and wait. And that wait isn't long. Call it nature's mysterious ways or just a random event happening at the right time, a cool breeze stirs the air for the first time in this place. From where you stand, the breeze hits your back, tickling those sweat beads on the nape of your neck before letting you smell the odour of blood it carries with it. All the neurons inside you make you turn around and face a familiar figure emerging from the shadows with a dagger in his hand. The basic instincts inside you are already making your body break into a run in the opposite direction. The rush of the flight instinct is overpowering all the injuries and you forget for a second that your hands are still tied behind you as you speed straight ahead. But that devil of a man is fast. He has already closed the distance and his hands are grabbing your hair, pushing you both to the ground. He presses you down with his body, not giving you any room to get up or free your limbs. But he does untie your gag before turning you around and holding your neck in a choke-hold. "Please, please, please..." Nothing else is coming out of you at this point; except for hot tears streaming down the side of your face. "Well," the bastard sighs, pressing down his pelvis on your abdomen while having the audacity to smirk when looking down at you, "we had to sacrifice a virgin. But surely it's going to work the same if I put that mouth to work." The dread of his words does not set in till his free hand reaches for the button on his pants to undo it. The more you try to push away from him, the tighter he grips your throat. Oh, Gods! Just let me die instead. He is halfway undoing his zipper when a sound cracks through the air. It almost sounds like a very quiet motor either just starting or just stopping. And the closer it gets, it starts taking the shape of a growl coming from the throat of an animal. The man is distracted now; looking for the source of the sound. Loosening his grip a bit, he turns around to let his vision get as far in the dark as it could to look for anything out of the ordinary. And while he is busy, it is you who notices its presence and choose not to make a sound. The man turns around to look right into red eyes gleaming at him from a distance of three inches, sending him jumping up and crawling back on the ground as far away from you as possible. Huge white canines visible even in this darkness are on display as this four-legged creature growls in your captor's direction. A twisted horn rests majestically on each side of its head. Paws as huge as a lion's, but claws twice as big and dark as the night are resting on either side of your shoulder. The fur seems dark and dense except for where pointed bones are protruding out on its back. The growl revving in this creature's throat is enough for the predator to crawl back further with his heart stuck in his throat. And before he can figure out what demonic hell this creature had walked out from, he comes to discover another wave of fear when he sees a shadow behind it in between two trees. That shadow seems human. Human enough at the very least until he thought he was hallucinating that figure with gleaming green eyes. "Wh-who's there?!" the man's voice starts in a scream ends up in a squeak. "Get that ugly dog away from here!" The 'ugly dog' shifts from your side to take a few steps towards the bastard, metaphorically pinning him in between the roots of the trees he was sweating in. "Hey!" he shouted again at the shadow, "can't you hear me?!" You sit up, watching the creature slowly ready itself for attack mode. Turning around, you too are able to see a figure. It looks tall and is evidently clad in something heavy. Is that a sword in his hand? But that sword is not as concerning as those illuminated green pupils. "You son of a bitch! Get the fuck out of here before I stab you and your filthy farm ani-" "Rífa hann í sundur," is all you hear in a low hum from that figure's end one second. The next, there are growls and blood-curdling screams emerging from behind you; haunting enough to make you jump and curl up where you sit but never move your eyes away from that shadow that still stands as still as a rock. Tears still fall from your eyes; your legs pulled as close to your chest as possible. The screams continue to come out for a long time...long enough for you to notice a snowflake fall on your knee. More snowflakes come after the first one. And once the screams die down, you feel something brush your hands, almost making your heart fall out, only to realise that creature standing right behind you nudging at your ropes to gnaw your hands out of them. The adrenaline rush has diluted now. The pain and exhaustion that comes with it now lie heavy in your bones. Your eyes cannot take it anymore. But they still want to see that figure which now takes the liberty to walk out of the shadows underneath the clear light of the nearest moon. Your body is ready to fall but the creature provides some support to your lifeless limbs. Its fur feels so good on your cheeks. And that pale face coming to a stop in front of you feels almost angelic. Those green eyes are looking at you with both concern and judgment but what your brain registers first is the moonlight falling on those otherworldly cheekbones framed with clean braids. You want to keep looking at that face for a few more minutes. But there is only so much your wounded body can take before everything is a blur. . You have already hit deep slumber when the God comes to stand before you. He gets down on his knees to get a close look at your face buried in the hound's face. "What do you think she's doing here, Agni?" Agni huffs and shifts enough to let the God have a better look at the face marred with wounds and bruises. A face that still looks so serene after putting up such a fight. The long pale fingers move those few strands of hair away that are blocking your features under the light of the moons. Calculations have already been done in that mind. What's left is to figure out whether to leave you here in the depth of the endless garden or... "Agni-" that voice commands with zero emotions, still studying your features- "call out for help. We are taking this one back to the camp."

#loki #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki fluff #loki smut #marvel fluff #marvel smut #mcu fluff #mcu smut #fluff #smut #fanfic #loki fanfic #loki series #into the thick of it #taris1kchallenge #tarithenurse

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years

Text

COSMIC - S3:E2; Chapter Two, The Mall Rats - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Baffled with Mike's sudden behavior, El seeks out Y/n and Max for advice while Will struggles to get through to Mike and Lucas. Billy takes his co-worker on a field trip, and Steve and Dustin enlist a helpful ally in their top-secret mission.

WARNINGS: possible allegory to r*pe when the mind flayer does his little ✨ possessing ✨. It's not meant to sound like it, but when I wrote Will getting possessed I'm pretty sure some people compared it to that and I just want to be sure yall are safe reading this so [■■■■■■] these guys are back. Hope this helped! + oh yeah also brief mention of gore and v*mit [yes I censored that, let's move on] but they all fit inside the warning markers.

A/n: can't remember if I put this before but f/d = favorite drink

||��𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎��||

An eerie silence stretches across the town of Hawkins, from the bustling new heart in Starcourt Mall all across town to the edge of its grassy hills. Sitting in the shadows of these grasslands, tucked in with blankets of discarded steel and machinery all being pulled back into the earth to be properly claimed is the stomach of the town; Brimborn.

Unlike the heart, it is shrouded in darkness, death, and decay. It sits abandoned just miles off the main roads and welcomes nothing but trouble. Once nothing but an empty husk of potential had long since reared its head and swallowed a darkness—the sickness of Hawkins—that now resides deep in the belly to be digested.

And it had just gotten its first taste in months.

Billy Hargrove stumbles out of the darkness of the steel stairway and into the forgiving light of the moon.

His face nearly collides with the concrete on at least three occasions in the time it takes him to run back to his car. His adrenaline spikes with every frantic beat of his heart and heaving of his lungs. The rubber soles of his boots punch the concrete, only hammering in the fear of being pulled back under. He can't understand what he just saw, nor can he hold off the feeling of nausea brewing in his gut much longer as he fumbles for his keys in his pocket.

It would seem he has enough luck to get inside the car and start it. The sound of tires squealing against the pavement is music to his ears. He's back on the road just as soon, head pounding painfully as he tries to keep his shaking hands that grip the wheel from throwing him off the road. And they are able to do so for several minutes—several minutes of Billy choking down air and adrenaline while the smell of burning diesel from his car stings the back of his throat. And yet still it wasn't the worst sensation in his mouth by far. He could still taste the rot sitting on his lips and tongue... from that... that thing...

He doesn't know where he's going apart from away—as far away as he could get from Brimborn until he sees a box of light in the distance just off the side of the road. A payphone. He could call someone. Hell, if this thing was chasing him—if it got him someone should at least know what little he did. His car lurches off the road with one swift yank on the wheel and suddenly his tires are screaming against the asphalt again. Clumsily Billy throws open his door and tumbles out onto the streets, stumbling to the payphone he had spotted.

He's already on the phone before he realizes; time was still moving in blurs catching every other moment as he blacked out. Yet another miracle he managed to make it down the road safely in his car. Billy's chest heaves up and down as he drowns in panic, trying so desperately to get ahold of each breath.

His eyes, bloodshot and wild, sweep the darkened streets and he jumps when a soft click goes off in his ear.

"911, what's your emergency?"

At once, everything comes back to Billy, still in flashes.

He remembers a lurch in his gut when the car spun out, followed by a searing pain in his temple that spread throughout his skull in a dull ache. He can smell smoke from the busted engine. It was covering up a smell of rot and sewage and... and an overwhelming sense of copper like an old change jar. It was similar to the smell coming from the blood running down his face. Its texture almost similar to the slime he felt on his fingertips when he saw the state of his windshield.

Another lurch in his heart when something shrill cried out as it scurried by.

And then his face was in the dirt. Something had hooked his leg and reeled him in. Billy remembers the pain of his nails clawing at the dirt. And then concrete and then metal stairs. He can feel it all burning his stomach too like road rash. A blood-curdling scream tore from his throat as his fingers burned, they were in searing pain as they clung so desperately to the iron doorway where they eventually lost their battle.

[■■■■■■]

What followed never held the absence of more pain, that was all he knew. From his chin colliding with every metal step, to the thousands of tiny feet clawing at his body as the swarm closed in. And ultimately the unbelievable anguish of that thing invading every cell in his body. It all happened so fast, even in the moment and he was left but nothing but the horrifying image of a bloodied tentacle attacking his face.

Every attempt at a scream was shoved back down his throat along with the dark and bloodied mass spewing from its insides like icy vomit. He could feel it going everywhere, soaking through into his bloodstream and it traveled throughout his body.

[■■■■■■]

And just as Will Byers had experienced half a year ago; Billy felt every essence of warmth cease to be, and all that existed was icy darkness. And there it remained.

He could feel it even now as he stood underneath the flickering lights of the phone booth.

I̵̢͖̘̪̞̻̜͍̪͛̌͘͝s̴̮͈̮̟̮̥͔̃͘ ̶͉̂͛ş̷̳͉͖͖̠͉͉͇͖͆ó̴̝̰͉̟͙̘̝̥̲͂͌̒̿̅͝͝m̵̖̐̌̽̐͋̊̏͝e̵̛̜̘̰̫̩̋̅̊ͅo̷̢̫̻͙͕̫͚̮̅͗̃̃̐͊̋̕͜͠ǹ̶̡̞͖̪̯͉͓̖̜̳̉͝e̷̬̞̣̝̬͕̱̫͊̏ ̴͕̇̌͆͑̄͋̄t̴͎̯̥͉͌̕h̶̹̚͜e̴̯͔͓̬̗̞̥̳̠͜͠r̶̨̬͎̬̙͉̩͐͜ë̸̥̣̺̘̭́̇̽̉̓̐̕͘?̵̼̠͛̋ ̸̪͒͋H̸̭̺̞̬̖̎̓̇̐͆͐̚͝͠ͅe̸̢̲͎̭͊̄͗̌͌͝l̶͉̉͜͜ḽ̵̠̟̻̅̏͗̏̒̌͜͝o̵̖̙̼͓̽̓̎?̶̩̱͎͍͉͓̅̑̈͋͝

Darkness. That was all that was left after the distorted voice died out with the rest of the booth. His eyes flew everywhere, but not for long. An impossible chill fell over his already frozen body when he realized what was so wrong.

The world outside the phone booth was not how he left it—not how it was only moments ago. The beautiful summer night sky was swallowed by storm clouds, taking all warmth with it. The air was heavy and sticky, a combination of humid and cold all at once. It was hostile, and it wreaked of decay. But what startled Billy most was the glistening array of vines that engulfed the earth and everything on it.

In a sickly daze, he stumbled in front of his car. Its headlights seemed to shine brighter than the moon and yet it was not enough to illuminate the oncoming army of figures marching through the fog.

"What do you want?" He asked, feeling brave. When they didn't answer, he stalked forward several steps and raised his voice in a panic. "Hey! I said, what do you want?"

No answer. Just the haunting sound of the marching of the faceless army. He matched their step, just a notch slower thanks to the fear filling his lungs. Billy was too afraid to notice the scarlet lightning raging up above his head.

"I said, what do you want?!"

The faceless army stopped but its leader remained in a steady march straight for him. Try as he might, Billy couldn't bring himself to take another step. He could only watch with bated breath, heart in his lungs beating so loud he could hear it in his ears as the figure revealed himself to him. When he did, Billy's next breath was stolen right out of his chest.

Standing there before him was another Billy Hargrove.

||𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

"Are you sure you know how to ride that thing?" I quip, watching as Max tumbles off her board for the sixth time since she got on.

"Do you wanna give it a try?" she asks, smirking. "Wanna see if you can do a kickflip?"

"Oh, that's not a question I need answered," I say, finishing another sip of my f/d. I put it back down on the curb beside me where I sit, and lean back with my hands propping me up in the grass. "The question is, can you do a kickflip?"

"I can, I told you," she huffs, turning her board back over. "I did one this morning,"

She mounts her board and tries again. The board flips under her feet but never comes full circle. Her feet land on the edge of the underside and she stumbles back. Max releases another frustrated huff, moving the bits of hair that had fallen over her face.

"I'd give that a solid 4.0," I comment.

"Why are you here again?" She asks, stopping to look at me. Her face is stern but anyone could see she was teasing. Mostly.

I laugh and stretch out my legs.

"Cause you love me?" I offer, sheepishly.

Max clicks her tongue, pretending to think about it. "Mm, no I don't think that's it."

"But you don't deny you do?"

"Whatever," she scoffs, hopping back on her board.

"You do love me," taking a long, loud sip of my drink I grin with my eyes and she rolls hers.

I tip the f/d all the way back, lick my lips, and sigh.

I ultimately decide I've put it off long enough and I rise from the curb.

"I'll be back. I gotta whiz,"

Max eyes the empty glass of f/d I have in my hand and smirks. "Surprise, surprise. You're gonna run us dry at this rate,"

"You guys ate all my Mac n Cheese," I wink, and she blushes. "I'm just doing the neighborly thing and repaying the favor,"

Max rolls her eyes and scoffs, and feeling victorious I disappear inside.

||𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

Max's eyes linger where Y/n had disappeared and her lips threaten to hook upwards in a small smile. She quickly shakes her head, forcing herself to focus back on the task at hand.

Maybe if she got a running start.

Max takes off on her skateboard and gives it another try. The board barely moves.

Her third attempt is the closest but still wields no results.

And when she tries a fourth, her board flies out from under her and cruises down the road.

Where it lands at El's feet.

Max straightens, unsure of where this was about to head. She watches carefully as El picks up the skateboard and makes her way over.

Was this really happening?

El had never wanted anything to do with anyone other than Mike, and Y/n.

So what was she doing here?

"Hi," she says.

"Hi?"

El hands her skateboard over to Max, her steely composure melting a little.

"Is Y/n here?"

Max's shoulders fell, any hopes she had growing in her chest dashed.

"She's inside," Max said, trying to mask her disappointment. "She'll be back out in a minute,"

Max took her skateboard and returned it to the concrete, ready to hop back on. But El's words stopped her in her tracks.

"Can... we talk? All of us?"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Welp. Another day, another migraine for Robin Buckley. She couldn't even pretend to care anymore as she numbly hands over what had to have been the sixth dozenth ice cream cone of her first shift.

"Have a nice day," she drawls, passing the cones to the over-eager couple.

"Thanks!" They turn away, heading for the door, revealing the next over-eager customer in line.

He bounces up to the counter, wearing a Roast Beef tee, bright yellow ball cap, and a toothless grin.

"Hi!"

Robin blinks. "Hi," she says carefully.

His smile never wavers, even when he seems to catch on to her cluelessness. He gestures to himself.

"I'm Dustin," he clarifies.

"I'm Robin,"

"Pleasure to meet you," man, this kid's optimism was a little unnerving. Impressive, but unnerving. But hey, at least it was something new. He glances over her shoulder and back to her expectantly. "Uh, is he—? Is he here?"

"Is, who here?"

The sudden and obnoxious sound of rubber shoes squealing against the freshly waxed linoleum floors ripped their attention to the employee-only door. It had been thrown open as the figure before them had nearly crashed through. There stood an overzealous Steve Harrington wearing his usual Scoops Ahoy uniform and a growing grin.

His mouth falls open in a gape, unable to contain his excitement and he throws his arms up.

"Henderson,"

Dustin laughs excitedly as Steve begins bouncing around the counter to greet him.

"Henderson! He's back!" He cheers. "He's back!"

"I'm back!" He cries, gesturing past a Robin and her startled expression to the giant Scoops Ahoy sign. "You got the job!"

"I got the job!" Steve blows an imaginary trumpet before going in for their handshake.

As it always did, the handshake gradually morphed into a false battle, imaginary lightsabers drawn and clashing. Each of them create their own sound effects. Dustin thrusts the invisible blade of light into Steve's abdomen, who in turn illustrates his fake wounds. The pair of unlikely friends fall into a fit of giggles, while a less than impressed Robin watches in boredom behind the counter.

The name had already registered, but she was still a little shocked at the other Henderson she never had a chance to meet. She always forgot there were two, and if Robin was being honest, she preferred the other one so far. Sure, the girl stared a lot but she seemed less... well whatever this was.

Looking at her coworker, she tilts her head and cocks a brow. "How many children are you friends with?"

The young man sighs, exasperatedly swiping a hand over his mouth as he gestures to her, giving Dustin a tired look.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"No," Steve laughs through a cracked smile. "No way! Hotter than Phoebe Cates? Nah,"

Dustin hums, swallowing a bite of his ice cream, and nods excitedly.

"Brilliant, too! And she doesn't even care that my real pearls are still coming in. She says kissing is better without teeth,"

"..." Steve nods, trying his best to not let his nervous laughter shine through. "Wow! Yeah, um—well that's great! I'm proud of you man, that's rom— that's kind of romantic. That's like... wow!"

Dustin hums happily in agreement, swallowing another bite of his ice cream. He shakes his head.

"Do you really get to eat as much of this as you want?"

"Yeah," Steve shrugs. "I mean, sure. It's not really a good idea for me though. You know, I gotta keep in shape for the ladies,"

-"Yeah, and how's that working out for you?" Dustin and Steve follow the voice across the shop to see Robin shooting them a knowing look.

"Ignore her,"

"She seems cool," Dustin's smiles.

"She's not," Steve says, eyeing the foot traffic outside Scoops Ahoy momentarily. "So, where are the other knuckleheads?"

"They ditched me yesterday,"

As Dustin digs out a spoonful of his U.S.S. Butterscotch Sundae, Steve laughs off the boy's last comment in disbelief.

"What? No way,"

"My first day back. Can you believe that shit?"

Steve's face falls when he sees the look on Dustin's face. He sits up in his seat, growing angry.

"Woah, seriously?"

"I swear to god, mhm."

"No, no not Y/n though?" Offered Steve, sounding genuinely surprised. "I mean, I don't think she wanted to admit it but she was pretty psyched about you coming home,"

"Yeah, Steve. Even Y/n," Dustin snaps. But judging by the look washing in after his outburst, he doesn't seem very committed to his anger. He sighs into his ice cream. "I mean, she tried to stick with me but she had to leave with Byers or something. Said she was worried,"

"That blows," Steve says, sighing into a hunch over the table. "I'm sorry, man."

Dustin nods, eyes still drilling into his Sundae. No doubt dwindling on his growing separation from his sister and friends. Feeling bad for the kid, Steve still remembers the events of the previous year. And if, like then, it had something to do with Will, then... Well, he couldn't really blame her. But he was broken up just seeing Dustin like this.

"Hey, I'm sure it's fine," Steve tries. "You know her better than anyone; if she's worried about something she has a good reason. I'm sure she's just being cautious, but that doesn't mean she doesn't want to be here with you. I'd just give it time,"

"I guess," Dustin frowns, his spoon playing with a cherry on his ice cream. He suddenly perks. "Doesn't matter now, though. They're all gonna regret it, anyway. Big time. When they won't get to share in my glory."

Steve sits up, growing curious.

"Glory? What glory?"

A sort of cocky smirk grows on Dustin's face and he scooches further in the booth, closer to Steve. His voice lowers a considerable amount, only doubling Steve's curiosity.

"So last night," he begins. "I was trying to get in contact with Suzie,"

Unfortunately for Steve, he catches the playful look on the kid's face and nervously nods along. The 'no teeth' comment and the small, uninvited image it forces onto his mind threatens a shiver.

"and I uh," Dustin leans in further, pausing to scan the ice cream shop as he hides his mouth behind his hand. When his next words come out, they're barely a whisper as he looks into his bowl."I intercepted a secret Russian communication."

Steve only blinks, his mind racing to catch up with the words he thought he heard. He blinks again.

"What?"

"Uh," It's clear Dustin is trying to look as casual as possible, but every attempt at doing so was only obscuring his words more. "IinterceptedasecretRussiancommunication,"

"Just speak louder,"

"I intercepted a secret Russian communication!"

The shop goes quiet, everyone including Robin who stood behind the counter stopped to look at them. Steve shifts in his seat, hastily shushing the boy as discreetly as possible.

"Jesus, yeah. OK, well that's what I thought you said." Both of them look around the shop again, relieved to see everyone had gone back to their conversations assuming they misheard. Either that or wanting to keep out of it. "Wait, what does that mean?"

"It means, Steve, that we could heroes. True American heroes."

"Ahh," Steve says through a blooming smile.

"Mm-hmm,"

"American heroes," Steve said, liking the sound of the words on his tongue.

"Just think. You could have all the ladies you want. And more."

"More?"

"More."

"I like more."

Dustin hums, and as the two think on it they can very nearly picture their glorious, hopeful future before them.

"What's the catch?"

"No catch, I just need your help."

"With what?"

Dustin only smiles, turning to his backpack beside him. Unzipping the bag, he retrieves a small red book that he displays with a hopeful smile. The title read,

RUSSIAN - ENGLISH

ENGLISH - RUSSIAN

"Translation."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

5 Ways To Help Palestinians Through Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions - [link]

20 Organizations That Support Black Women During Black History Month and Beyond - [link]

Stop Asian Hate Linktree: A variety of resources dedicated to helping those affected by, and stopping Anti-Asian Violence - [link]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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rainbows-fanfics · 3 years

Text

Our Nightmare (Chapter 16)

Summary: Sally moves in with the man of her screams. But there is still so much she has to learn of Halloween Town, and what it’s like living with The Pumpkin King.

A sequel to Two Dearest Friends, where the Christmas incident never happens. But there are still many ends that haven’t been met, and much for these two dreamers to learn as they start to spend their deaths together.

Pairings: Jack Skellington/Sally, Dr Finklestein/Jewel

–

Note: This is a SEQUEL to my other story, TWO DEAREST FRIENDS. To read the original story, go here.

Sally Finklestein trudges on for what feels like hours. The way from the Hinterlands forest back to Halloween Town is much longer than she anticipates. Her legs grow exhausted by the minute. She neglects to notice the fallen tree branch in her way and is sent tumbling to the ground when her feet make contact with it. Her arm detaches upon impact, scattering loose leaves on the fresh dirt. The wind picks them up and carries them off. Sally grabs her arm in a panic and covers the opening with her other hand, noticing how many she’s lost.

She reaches for her thread and needle, but finds her pocket empty and no sewing needle behind her ear. Then she remembers she gave them to Oogie Boogie after losing their betting game. She gasps at this realization: she's truly vulnerable out here .

“Oh, no..!” She exclaims to herself. “This is bad…I have to get home!”

Grasping onto her appendage tightly, she picks up her pace and continues on the path. It takes several minutes before she sees the image of Halloween Town. She sighs in relief and practically runs to it - only to find herself tripping and stumbling on the way. Then she slows her pace in caution of losing anymore limbs. By the time she reaches the front gate, she’s so fatigued that she can only end up mumbling to the gatekeeper. The crow looks at her oddly and raises the gate for her. She thanks him with a nod of her head.

He notices the gaping hole in her arm as she passes by. “Are you okay, miss..?”

She waves him off and continues on her way. She’ll apologize for her curt behavior later - the sky is getting dark, and all she wants to do is to return to the Skellington Manor. Her sanctuary . Far from Oogie Boogie and those naughty children…Where the love of her death and their pets reside, undoubtedly waiting for her return…she feels guilty for keeping them waiting. For where she has gone today. She should’ve never left Halloween Town to begin with.

‘Maybe I can sneak inside,’ She thinks as she approaches the manor. ‘Just so I can sew my arm back on without anyone noticing…’

She tiptoes up the steps and opens the door as quietly as she can. She makes little noise closing it and wastes no time rushing inside, past the den and up the staircase. She tries to do this in a speedy manner despite struggling the entire way. Her body feels numb by the time she makes it to their bedroom. She starts searching through various drawers for a sewing needle and thread. She mutters under her breath before finding the desired items, and grins in satisfaction.

“Sally..?”

She turns around and finds Jack Skellington’s concerned face in the doorway. He is currently eying the area where her arm should be, before his gaze comes to what she’s holding in her hand. It isn’t a shocking sight to find his beloved without an arm at times, but it still brings alarm to the skeleton every time something like this happens. He steps further into the room and notes how empty it looks in the opening. Like she’s lost a terrible amount of leaves…the concern grows in his bones as he looks to her for an explanation.

She feels a little flustered to be caught in a situation like this. She smiles at him nervously. “I tripped..?”

“Why didn’t you take care of it earlier?” He lifts her dress’ sleeve to further observe the hole. “You’ve lost a lot of-”

“--Leaves. I know.” She cuts him off. She sets her arm down and attempts to thread the needle with one hand. He notices her difficulty and offers to do it for her. She gives him the items with a small ‘thank you’ .

“I just didn’t have the needle and thread on me, at the time…” She confesses. He looks at her doubtfully as he goes to sew her arm back on - sparing her the demanding effort of doing it one-handed. She’s grateful for this, but doesn’t have the opportunity to express it before he questions her.

“But you always have them on you. I mean, you should. What if something like this happens? If you were to fall apart, trip somewhere and lose more than this…”

He begins to mutter as he finishes the job, his voice growing worried at the possibilities he’s put into his mind. He has to calm himself down. Sally waits until he’s no longer tense before she speaks again, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“I used them in my sewing shop today and forgot they were there, that's all. I tripped on my way back.” She grits her teeth lying like this. She doesn’t feel comfortable doing it anymore. “I’ll make sure I always have them on me, from now on.”

He sighs before removing her hand and bringing it to his lips, to leave a tender kiss on her stitched knuckles. Her heart flutters at this gesture. He slowly brings it down and holds it in both of his large hands. He can feel how lighter her right arm is now - no doubt causing an imbalance to her body. They’ll have to visit the Doctor and collect more leaves when they can.

“I’ll believe you.” He tells her. “But, please, be careful.”

He leads them out of the bedroom and down the stairs, holding onto her tightly the entire time. She appreciates the extra support - drained from all the running and fretting she’s done today. She can use some relaxation. She makes this obvious when he politely sets her down on the couch. She moans in relief when the weight is taken off her feet. He looks at her in surprise and she quickly changes topics.

“Can you kindle a fire, Jack..? It’s cold tonight.”

He obliges to her demand and starts a fire in the hearth. While he’s busy, his ghostly dog and her black cat come running in from the other room. Ophelia mewls delightfully at the sight of Sally. She jumps into her lap without hesitation while Zero flies forward to lick the side of her face. They both have clearly been worrying about her. She gently hugs Zero before petting her cat, assuring the both of them that she is alright. The Pumpkin King stands to his full height once the logs catch fire. He turns to enter the kitchen right away.

“I’ll heat some leftovers for us tonight, and make some warm tea.” His voice informs her from the other room. She perks up and smiles.

“That sounds just fine.”

Ophelia jumps off to join Zero by the fire while they wait. It takes awhile until he returns to the room with trays of food and cups in his hands. He sets them down and hands Sally her tea first. She enjoys the way the liquid warms her stomach. She can’t deny she was freezing, after being outside for so long, enduring that harsh wind…and the chill she’s felt on her spine ever since her unfortunate encounter with the boogeyman…her gut sinks as she recalls everything that’s happened, and promptly places her tea down. She starts eating to try and clear her thoughts.

“How was your day today..?” She asks quietly. She hopes hearing about it will empty her mind. He pauses at her question.

His time that day had been spent finalizing his concept for Sally’s engagement ring. He remembers struggling trying to pick just one design out of the several he’d come up with. But he’s happy with his decision, and went to start on it right away. Sure, he’s a little behind on his paperwork now, but…it is ever so worth it, in his eyes. It is coming out beautifully. The only part he’s uncertain about is her ring size, which he will have to obtain discreetly…but other than that, his day went particularly well.

“Oh, you know. Just the usual planning in the town hall.” He replies casually.

She dips her head as she finishes her food. Nowhere near the intricate explanation like she’d been hoping to hear from him…he usually goes into such light about the Halloween planning and anything unexpected that ever happens…her mind is still unfortunately swarmed with the events from today. Her chewing slows and she drinks more tea to stop her chest from growing cold. There’s one question that hasn’t been able to leave her mind, no matter how much she pushes it aside.

She decides to appease her curiosity. Swallowing harshly, she soon asks him, “Jack..? What do you know about Oogie Boogie?”

His reaction is similar to the last time she mentioned him. The moment the name slips off her tongue, he visibly tenses and stiffens his jaw. He sets down the food in his hand as well as his cup, and grips his knees tightly. He avoids giving an answer right away. “-Why do you ask..?”

His hesitation confirms her suspicions. She thinks of any possible way to answer him without revealing what happened today - but she falls short on thinking of any excuses. It already hurt her to lie to him once, and it just doesn’t feel right to continue doing so. He might think she’s stupid for believing those children, and going to their treehouse so willy-nilly…but it’s brought a heavy weight onto her shoulders. And she desperately wants it to go away. Before she can come to terms with herself, the tears begin to fall from her eyes and she gravely looks at the floor.

“Something happened today.” She says in a small voice.

Her boyfriend notices the moistness leaving her eyes and relaxes his frame right away. He comes forward to hold her tightly, bringing her face to rest in the crook of his neck. She presses her entire weight on him as she closes her eyes and begins to cry. To finally let out her concealed emotions from what happened - to express how frightened she was, feeling used and violated by a scary man…and not the delightful ‘scary’ like Jack was, but from someone more…threatening .

“I did something really stupid.” She spits out regretfully. “I should’ve listened to you. I shouldn’t have ever given them the benefit of the doubt..”

“..What happened, exactly?” He asks. He feels unpleasant hearing her talk this way.

“They tricked me. I let Lock, Shock, and Barrel bring me to their treehouse...and I got trapped in Oogie Boogie’s casino.” He tightens his grip around her figure. “He offered me a betting game to leave, so we played, and…I-I lost. He let me go, anyway…but he…he….”

Her words drift off as she looks away. She feels anxious telling the rest of the story - afraid of what he would think of her, agreeing to do what she did. If he’d be disgusted. Hurt . Or even betrayed. She only did it for her freedom. She doesn’t know what to expect; she can’t imagine what it will be like to keep something like this to herself. To know she was touched in a way that made her feel like she was nothing more than a doll…

Jack pulls away to look at her face, combing the strands of her yarn hair behind her ears. Her eyes are red and her cheeks puffy. She’s refusing to look at him. The stitched lines on the ends of her mouth are quivering as she reaches for his arms. Her figure starts to tremble - and an unusual coldness overcomes him. It occurs to him what could have possibly happened in his absence.

“ What did he do to you? ” He asks coldly. She finally looks at him and whimpers, wiping her tears away with a free hand.

“He wanted to feel my leg and my foot…he-he even tickled me…I didn’t like the way he touched me…he said he wanted to feel a woman’s touch. And he kept saying such things ..! How I haven’t aged a bit, and-and how he liked how I had a mouth on me…he was stroking my face when-”

“That BASTARD..!” The skeleton yells, a small flame escaping his mouth. Sally jumps in surprise at his outburst. She grabs him by the shoulders and sets him back down beside her. She clings onto him and sobs some more, wishing to release everything in this moment.

“Pl-please don’t be mad..! I only did it because he wasn’t going to let me go. It was my only-”

He stops her words by holding her very tightly. The closest embrace they’ve ever had so far. She closes her eyes and shakes within his grasp - calming the longer he holds her, and warms her skin. He says nothing in these few minutes, letting the sound of the fire crackling soothe them instead. Zero and Ophelia watch them with worried expressions from the floor. They decide to keep their distance after seeing their master’s reaction. They express their sympathy with their eyes. He eventually withdraws and continues to hold her sides firmly.

“Sally..” He begins. “Do you know what could have happened? What could he have done to you?”

“-I know and I’m sorry!” She exclaims regretfully. “All I wanted was to see how those children lived, so I could help them..! It was wrong to believe them. They trapped me down there. I should have just listened to you and the witches-”

“- Shh, sh . Don’t blame yourself for anything…those three are cunning. You’re not the first they’ve tricked, nor will you be the last.” He sighs as he rocks them both. She snivels into his suit. “Anyone else could’ve done what you did. You’re not stupid. You’re just kind, that's what you are.”

“And it nearly got me….killed, or… or …” She mutters with a soft cry. He kisses her forehead and brushes her hair back again.

“What matters is you’re safe now. We’re fortunate he decided to let you go. I don’t know how I could’ve found you otherwise - I would’ve had no idea where you were…”

“I’m s-”

“ Shh .”

This time, they exchange no words as he moves her gently. They do this for several minutes until he feels her relax in his arms. She closes her eyes and steadies her breathing, enjoying this peaceful moment. She’d been so scared of him being outraged for what she did. But he isn’t. If anything, he seems upset with Oogie Boogie instead…she holds her breath as she thinks of what to say. She still hasn’t received any answers to her question - and she feels comfortable enough to pry again.

“He told me to ask you about him. That you two have a past I should know about…” She mutters. He doesn’t respond right away. He becomes strained again, so she rubs his back. “-Is that true?”

“I…” He breathes on her hair. “I was a different person back then, Sally. Not one I’m necessarily proud of…”

“Is that why you haven’t told me?” He nods weakly. “It won’t matter to me. What matters is who you are now …the man of my screams. The one who took me out of that tower.” His grip strengthens again. “I love you, and I…I want to know about your past, if you’re willing to tell me.”

He clutches her hands before letting go of them. He looks into the fire for a bit, thinking of where to begin. He hasn’t ever had to tell anyone about this before. She waits patiently in this time - curious as to what happened between him and Oogie Boogie, and what he must’ve been like back then…He finally takes a deep breath and relaxes, beginning to spill his story:

“Oogie and I were once friends a long time ago. I was young and reckless - and he, the same. I had just gotten my crown and began my reputation as the master of fright. I was willing to do anything… try anything. I wanted to be the most feared being alive - or, rather, dead. And Oogie…he liked doing things differently. We both had a passion for scaring people. So that’s what we did.”

She scoots closer as she becomes invested in this story. He struggles to speak for a moment and she places her hand on his knee encouragingly. He smiles softly before continuing, more confidently this time:

“Back then, every Halloween was to the human world. And, Oogie and I - we had a scare streak that lasted for years..! I was in tough competition. The boogeyman didn’t get his title for nothing , mind you. But it was all in good spirit. We kept trying new things, new methods to scare humans with. Some were his ideas, others were mine. We often bonded on this sort of thing - learning what humans feared, and how to use that to our advantage. We were close doing what we did together.”

He rubs his jaw in thought, his look turning troubled.

“But over time, I noticed something different about Boogie. He was spending a lot of time with the humans - even after Halloween, he would leave town to visit their world. I was bothered by this, since such a thing was forbidden, and asked him why. He told me it was to visit their dreams and study them - and I believed him. It was his job to do that, after all. But he came back with these strange desires, new ideas of his I hadn’t heard of….”

“What were they?” She asks curiously. He clicks his tongue.

“He was having all sorts of suggestions that didn’t involve scaring them…though he’d convince me otherwise.” Jack murmured. “He wanted to use torture devices. To gamble with them. Play games. He said it was using the fear of threatening their lives - and I…believed it, so I tried it with him. I’m ashamed to say we had fun when we started…humans were terrified when their lives were on the line, and we both enjoyed the terror. But something happened one night that changed everything between us.”

He pauses. She holds her breath.

“-A human had died.” He confesses solemnly. “We placed a bet with one that lost the game. Oogie was using one of his torture machines, and…the man was clearly in pain ..! We’d never gone so far as to physically hurt them. Just intimidate them..! It was Boogie’s intention all along; he told me he was testing a new theory of his. So he killed him. And that…was ‘true fear’, he told me…To take their life.”

He looks away, clearly ashamed of his words.

“If I’d have known he was going to kill that man, I would’ve stopped him. I wouldn’t have helped him to begin with. I was so furious that I didn’t talk to him for days…he was confused as to why. I had to tell him I didn’t believe in killing anyone. I’ve frightened some into an early grave, yes , but…never intentionally would I physically torture or mutilate them like he did! It was unnecessary, and…and it was sickening! We never saw eye-to-eye on this thing, so we didn’t reconcile after that.

Over the next few years, Oogie became an entirely different person. I knew he was doing these things - taking these innocent humans and gambling on their lives…some he took just to have his ‘fun’ with…and it all disgusted me. I tried to put a stop to it, but he always found a way to sneak into the human world and claim his victims. Every Halloween, he became ruthless. It was no longer a friendly competition - he was challenging me with every opportunity he had. And eventually, he got jealous of my crown.”

“Your crown..?” She asks. He nods in confirmation.

“Boogie challenged my throne, claiming that the way I scared others wasn’t ‘effective’ . That being nice was my flaw as a King. And Oogie wanted my place. So he could turn Halloween Town into the casino he wanted…it was the toughest scaring competition I’d ever been in. But I won. After that, I had just about enough and never spoke to him again. Then he tried to overthrow me with his ‘Bug Day’ nonsense, and - well, you were there for that…”

Sally is quiet as she takes in this new information. It makes her tremble remembering how close she had been to this man, who committed such terrible actions. She feels no sympathy for him whatsoever. And Jack…she’s sad hearing that their friendship fell apart, and he was tricked into such an awful thing…she hugs his side without a word, and he places his hand over hers. He sounds regretful with his next words.

“Believe me, I’m not proud of what I’d done back then. I helped him do most of these things, and…some of that blood was on my own hands, that night. I’ve never forgiven myself for it. I should’ve banished him a long time ago. I always regret that I didn’t. There would’ve been less victims, if I had acted in time...”

“It happened so long ago, and you know better, now. You wouldn’t let such a thing happen.” She assures him confidently. “I think you’re a great ruler, Jack. You look out for your people. You make sure they’re not mean, just doing their job…imagine how many people would have been taken if Oogie was in your place.”

He sucks at his teeth. “Exactly what I fear, sometimes…that he’s going to try and revolt again…I think you now understand why you should stay away from him..? And come and tell me if Lock, Shock, and Barrel try anything with you again?”

“Absolutely.” She agrees without hesitation. “I’m sorry. You had a right to worry. I didn’t know he could be so bad.”

They rest comfortably by the roaring fire, watching the flames dance to pass the time. Both Zero and Ophelia are asleep, enjoying the warmth and cuddling next to each other. Even Sally feels her eyes drooping the longer they remain there, the exhaustion finally catching up with her. It’s been an unimaginably long day, and now that she’s safely protected in Jack’s arms again…she wants to rest. To know she’s with a man who is so much better than the creature she encountered earlier. She nestles his side and hums in delight.

“Thank you, by the way.” He tells her quietly. She rests her head on his shoulder. “No one’s asked me about my past like this. They’ve never wanted to really know…and I…I’m glad you still trust me, after hearing it..”

“I was a different person, too.” She mumbles. “Before you, I was never confident or really happy…I was willing to be a housewife and nothing more…but now I matter to the town, and I have a place here. And I know you’re nothing like what you used to be, either.”

He smiles and leans over to kiss her on the cheek. She returns it on his stitched lips, holding his skull close as they lock lips. They eventually pull away. She rubs the side of his cheek with her thumb.

“You should forgive yourself.” She tells him sternly. “What happened wasn’t your fault…you didn’t know. You couldn’t have. He tricked you, like those trick-or-treaters did with me. And like you told me - you shouldn’t blame yourself for being kind.”

He sighs as he runs his hand through her hair. “You’re too good for me, Sally, you know that..?”

She says nothing and presses herself against him, preparing to rest her eyes. He senses her drowsiness and picks her up from the couch, carrying her over to the stairs. The animals finally stir from their sleep and groggily follow after, yawning as they climb into their bed. Jack gently sets Sally in the blankets and smiles as he observes her. She’s passed out already. She looks so content, finally peaceful after what happened to her…

A familiar fire burns in his throat. He clenches his fists to channel his anger. It doesn’t matter what Oogie did with her - he held her captive once, and had the audacity to touch her again. There is no doubt in his mind that he ordered Lock, Shock, and Barrel to trick her. He is always the mastermind behind their plans. And this time, he won’t be forgiven. He’ll make sure of it.

“I’ll kill him if he touches you again. I swear by it.” He mutters under his breath, cupping his beloved’s face in his hand. He leans forward and kisses her once more. “Sleep well, my dear.”

She snores lightly.

“Jewel! We have someone at the door!”

The tall woman looks up in surprise as the doorbell rings loudly above them. She drops what she’s doing to rush over and pull the handle. She’s delighted to find two familiar faces on the other side. One belongs to the Pumpkin King, and the other to Dr. Finklestein’s daughter, Sally. She lets them in right away, leading the two to their usual sitting room as she closes the door behind them.

“Welcome! What a horrible time to visit..!”

The ragdoll is more comfortable speaking to her this time. Their conversations over the phone have helped immensely. She approaches her politely. “We’re here to see the Doctor about something. It’s not really that important, so if he’s-”

“-Doctor!” Jewel exclaims into the other room. “Jack and Sally have come to see you! Are you busy, dear?”

Some bizarre noises come from the currently-ajar laboratory door. No doubt he’s experimenting right now. He sounds out-of-breath as he replies. “I’m afraid so..! Why don’t you take care of it for me? Practice your science?”

“How awful!” She claps her hands together and turns back to Sally. “What is it you need help with? I will try to be of assistance.”

The ragdoll glances with uncertainty towards Jack, who smiles back encouragingly. She’s never had anyone else do this sort of thing before. Only the Doctor has ever worked on her, besides Igor’s occasional help. She undoes the thread on her arm and shows her the somewhat-empty opening.

“Well…I recently lost some leaves in my arm. I just need some replacement ones.”

“A change of leaves - simple.” She comments confidently. She begins motioning her into another room and waves to the skeleton as they leave. “Wait right there, Mr. Skellington..! She’ll be back in a moment.”

The tall skeleton stays in his place as he watches them go. He’s confident Jewel will do the job just fine, compared to his girlfriend’s hesitancy. Once he’s alone, he sits down in one of the chairs. He passes the time by looking around and patiently tapping his digits together. He ends up waiting longer than he expects. Finding he has nothing else to do, he reaches into his pocket and unfolds a piece of paper. He finds the final sketch of the engagement ring on it - marveling at the design as he sometimes does in his free time. He has the unfinished project waiting back in the Skellington Manor - hidden exclusively in a drawer that Sally can’t find.

He is so captivated by the drawing that he doesn’t see the two figures emerging from the laboratory. Dr Finklestein notices his regal company and sends his assistant into the kitchen, asking him to make some refreshments. Once they’re alone, he moves his wheelchair forward until he’s close enough to get a glance at what the Pumpkin King is holding. He decides not to be nosy and greets him instead.

“Jack, my boy..! Terrible to see you today!”

He startles the King right out of his seat. He folds the paper again in a rush and slips it back into his pocket, smiling sheepishly at his old friend. “-Ah! Hello there, Doctor! I didn’t see you there…”

“It was not my intention to surprise you.” He laughs and rests his hands in his lap. “What is it you’ve come here for today?”

“Sally is getting some of her leaves replaced. She, erm …lost quite a few the other day.” His eyelids lower as he recalls the previous night. He decides to change subjects. “You’re having Jewel practice science now..?”

“She has half of my knowledge on the subject..! I want her to put it to good use. She’s been quite the help lately. We’ve gotten a lot done this time.” He realizes his words and quickly adds, “-You’re still free to come around and help anytime you’d like! I know we don’t experiment anymore like we used to.”

He recalls the last time they worked together on something, and remembers the unpleasant result that came…not from their work, but from their rather troubled relationship at the time…he shrugs this thought off and grins right back at him. He can tell the Doctor is a much happier man now - he’s never seen him so inspired before. It reminds him of himself with the Halloween plans, after Sally came into his death.

“It’s quite alright. I’ve been busy with the planning, anyway.” He decides to pry. “I assume things are going well for you two?”

“Positively perfect ! I finally have the wife I’ve always envisioned having.” He answers with pride. “I’m no longer the lonely, old man I used to be. Every day is worth waking up to, now.”

He understands what he means. It’s been the greatest experience to wake up next to the love of his death ever since they started sleeping together. Finklestein’s words suddenly remind him of something and an idea crosses Jack’s skull. He reaches in his pocket and surfaces the paper again, slowly unfolding it with a smile. He ensures no one else is in the room as he does this, wanting to keep this an utmost secret. He presents the paper to him proudly.

“Would you mind helping me with something, Doctor..?

He looks at him curiously as he takes it in his small hands and observes it. His jaw drops open at the detailed drawing he sees. He’s always secretly admired the King’s artistic talent - this being a perfect example as to why . The design that looks back at him is of a gorgeous engagement ring, modeled after his initial jack-o-lantern idea, except now it is complimented with red gems and the vines stretch to the shoulders just before the shank. It is a beautiful piece of art, to say at the least. He can only imagine what something like this would look like in-person.

“...Is this what I think it is?” He asks quietly.

“Indeed it is. I just need to know Sally’s ring size; I have a feeling you might know this information..?”

He glances at him knowingly. “You guessed right. I have a few replacements in a box somewhere we can check.”

“I can only do that if I ask one thing.” He takes another look around the room to ensure they are alone. He sits himself back in the chair to look him properly in the eye. “Doctor, will you give me your blessing to marry your daughter?”

He pauses, registering this question. Then a smile spreads on his face. “Of course, my boy. You’re the only one I trust to take care of her. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He returns the smile, overcome with a feeling of emotion. It means a lot to him to have the blessing of Finklestein - a long-time friend of his whom he’s come to regard as his own father figure. And if things go as well as he’s hoping…then a true one, at that. A wave of relief washes over him as he takes the paper and puts it away. He’s glad to get this part done, and finally receive the last piece of information he needs to make the ring.

“I assume you’re planning on keeping this a surprise..?” He is met with a nod. “I’ll have Igor retrieve the measurements for you. And I won’t say a word about this. Not even to my Jewel.”

With that, he calls for his hunchbacked assistant, who scampers into the room and traditionally bows to the Pumpkin King. The Doctor whispers something to him and the shorter man agrees eagerly, disappearing out of the room and rushing up the ramps. It is then Jewel and Sally finally return. The ragdoll has an easy time walking as she approaches Jack. Nothing looks different about her - but he can tell she's more balanced on her feet this time. Finklestein turns away to address his wife.

“I’m assuming it all went well..?”

“Of course, sweetie. I checked the rest of Sally’s leaves and replaced the ones that needed it. A lot of her thread was loose, too, but I fastened them. You should be good for a long time now, hun..!”

“Thank you, again.” She moves to hug her mother figure. “You’re going to make a wonderful scientist.”

“I appreciate that.” She pats her head as the woman lets go and turns to the skeleton. “I hope we didn’t take too long..?”

“--Just the right amount of time.” He replies with a chuckle.

Igor rushes into the room and passes a piece of paper to the Doctor. He doesn't even look at it. Instead, he wastes no time handing this to Jack, who takes it and easily pockets it. Sally watches this movement with confusion and opens her mouth to ask. He brings her to the door before she can. Then she forgets this matter completely as she gives her father a parting hug. The Doctor holds onto her while Jack exchanges a polite handshake with Jewel in the background. The moment they withdraw, he gives his daughter and soon-to-be son-in-law a proud look.

“Good luck, you two.”

#the nightmare before christmas #nightmare before christmas #oogie boogie #jack skellington #sally finklestein #jack x sally #jack and sally #fanfic #fanfiction #tim burton #disney #tnbc #our nightmare #long post #long #dr finklestein #lock shock and barrel

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seaofghouls · 3 years

Text

Resident Evil Village WKM AU

PART 1

Taglist: Nobody. Comment to be tagged!

Warnings: Bullets, Guns, Monsters, Tranquilizers, Blood, Gore, Descriptions of serious injuries, ect.

The stuff you'd see in Resident Evil. ------

“Long ago, a young girl went to pick berries for her father who was hard at work. The forest greeted them with a dark, cold silence. The bushes empty. Yet, determined to find the berries, the little rascal broke free of mother’s grasp and vanished into the trees. Mother’s worried cries faded fast as the girl ran on, over vine and under branch and into the forest deep.

Feeling strange eyes upon her, the girl recalled mother’s scary tales and her throat became bone dry. Then the bat lord appeared. He greeted her warmly and bit his own wing. “Come child, quench your thirst.” He said. So she drank the thick dark blood and smiled with joy. Passing through the graveyard, menacing storm clouds loomed and the air turned bitingly cold. The girl was shivering in her thin clothes.

Then, a Dark Weaver appeared and with a click of his fingers, crafted mist into a beautiful dress. “Come child, warm yourself.” He coaxed. So she clothed herself and smiled with joy. Across waters deep and ominous she went, hoping a boat she found would take her home. But hunger’s grip tightened and her hunger grew heavy.

Then, the fish king appeared and offered one of his many fins. “Come child, eat your fill.” So the girl ate and smiled with joy once again. Continuing on, she soon entered the forest’s dark heart. Then an Iron Steed appeared, bearing a beautiful, golden gear. The creature said nothing as the girl approached.. And snatched what she thought was another gift.

The horse grew angry and summoned the other monsters. Terror filled the girl’s heart as a wild wind rose around the beasts. Suddenly, a witch appeared! Dark, yet regal. “Gift we gave, but more you took.” She snarled. In a blink, the girl was trapped in a mirror, forever.” “There, she’s asleep.” He finished, holding a baby.

“What is with the creepy story? She’s only six months old. Especially the part about being trapped in a mirror.” Y/N asked with a huff.

“The woman at the store said it was traditional. A local tale. Besides, Rose doesn’t seem to mind.” Damien gestured at the sleeping baby in his arms.

“Because she doesn’t understand it, thank god.” Y/N sighed.

“We moved here so she wouldn’t have to deal with that, remember?” Y/N frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with my memory.” Damien slightly snapped.

“Maybe I’m being paranoid. I’m just cautious, y’know?” Y/N said.

“Then, go cautiously take your daughter to bed.” Damien smiled, handing them the baby.

“I’ll finish dinner.” Damien gave Y/N and Rose both a kiss on the head.

“It’s alright, Rose. Your father doesn’t want to remember. I can’t blame him.” Y/N mumbled.

“Did you say something, dear?” Damien called out.

“Nope! I’ll put her to sleep.” Y/N called back.

Y/N carried Rose up the stairs and into her room.

Setting her into the crib, Y/N smiled. “Don’t worry Rose, I’ll be right downstairs. I won’t let those scary fairytale monsters get you.”

Y/N gave her a kiss and walked back down the stairs.

“Is she doing alright?” Damien asked as Y/N walked back into the kitchen.

“Yeah, she’s sleeping like a- well, a baby.” Y/N giggled.

“Mm, smells good. What is that?” Y/N asked, referring to the meal that Damien was cooking.

“It’s clorba de legume, a local recipe.” Damien said.

“Wow, you’ve gone full native, huh?” Y/N smiled.

“Local wine, too.” Damien smirked.

“If you’re going to be grumpy all evening, maybe you shouldn’t have any~.” Damien teased.

Y/N sighed as Damien poured wine into two glasses.

“You really need to stop worrying.” Damien said.

“It’s just.. Everything happened so fast, y’know? It’s a bit stressful.” Y/N frowned.

“Well, at least we’re all here together.” Damien gave a small smile.

“You, me, Rose, now everything’s going to be-” Y/N interrupted him.

“Seriously? You think we can just forget what happened in Louisiana?” Y/N asked.

“It happened so long ago. I just- I don’t understand why you are so-” Damien was interrupted by a bullet.

In his shoulder.

And then, what seemed to be hundreds more lodged into him.

“Damien!” Y/N cried. The lights were cut out, the blood was everywhere.

There was no coming back from that.

“Damien-! Oh god.” Y/N cried.

Hiding under the table, Y/N was covering their mouth as they looked up to see who did this.

“Abe?! What the hell?” They barked.

“Sorry, Y/N.” Abe shot at Damien’s body more.

“No! What?! Why?!” Y/N sobbed.

“Ghk-!” Y/N gasped out as they were shot with tranquilizer darts.

----

Y/N slowly cracked their eyes open with a groan as they heard a phone going off. They lurched over to unburry it and answered it.

“Is the package secure?” The other end asked.

“What the hell is going on here? Where is Abe and Rose?” Y/N demanded.

“You are not authorized to-” The phone cut out.

“Curses!” They spit.

They began to walk around, turning on their flashlight that they had.

Crows were hung from the trees and the van had crashed.

They found a house and decided to explore it. Nothing of use on the main floor.

Or in the house for that matter. Just blood stains and a trashed home.

“..What did all of this?” Y/N sighed.

By the time they got out, it was morning. They’d never been so happy to see daylight. God, that house was creepy.

“Where the hell am I?” Y/N questioned, looking at the giant castle ahead.

Walking into the town below, it was abandoned. It was utterly trashed and empty. They ran into a man hiding inside a house. He shoved a gun into their hands.

“It’s all I can spare.” He said.

“What the hell’s out there?!” Y/N pleaded, but got no answer before whatever was outside grabbed the man through the roof. They fell through the floorboards into a bit of bodies.

“Aghk-!” They cried.

“Oh god.” They cried.

Bodies littered the floor.

“..Jesus Christ.” They muttered.

“Agh-!” They howled in pain as a beast attacked them, tearing off three of their fingers.

They were thrown out of the basement into the open world, their hand bleeding out, missing fingers.

“What the hell was that?!” They cried.

“N-no! Stay back!” Y/N pulled out the gun the old man had given them and started shooting at the beast. It fell over and bled out after a few shots.

They realized they were trapped. They decided to look around the village for any keys to open the locked gates or ways out. They were able to cut the lock open on the gate blocking them with lock cutters and other various items they found around the village of death.

They heard a radio announcement about traveling to Luiza’s house for safety, so they decided to do that while picking up useful items that they ran into.

The beasts were everywhere. They were able to wrap their bleeding hand in bandages they found. They had quite a few close calls including the beasts.

They got cornered and tumbled into a lake while bleeding out surrounded by monsters before they all stopped all of a sudden and ran off when an old woman seemingly saved them.

“W-wait!” They tried to chase after the lady.

She went off on a tangent with a creepy smile. “The bell tolls for us all! They’re coming again!” She closed the gate.

“Damn it.” Y/N cussed.

The only part that Y/N was paying attention to was the fact that their daughter was in the village.

“I’ve got to find her.” Y/N said.

They continued to travel through the village, shooting at monsters. Damien’s death was still heavy on their mind.

They found a daughter and father in a shed. They found a way to get them inside and close the gate. Luiza greeted the three at the front door, albeit with a man pointing a gun at them before Luiza shooed him off.

“You’re not from this village, are you?” Luiza questioned.

“Uhm, no. I’m Y/N.” They said.

“If Elena trusts you, then so do I. Come inside, Y/N.” Luiza said.

Luiza led them to the main part of the house where the others were hiding.

They certainly did not get a warm welcome.

“There is no safe! Every sorry person out there has been ripped in half!” A man cried, his alcohol swishing from side to side from inside the bottle.

“That’s enough.” Luiza declared.

“Let us pray for those still out there.” She said.

They all joined in a circle, praying to whatever god there was out there.

Y/N started to get a bit freaked out when the old man they had helped inside started laughing and screaming in agony. The house was lit on fire after he knocked over a lit lantern.

People started to crowd the old man asking if he was okay or what was going on.

Y/N gasped as they realized. He was no longer human. He was one of the monsters.

“Oh no.”

He slaughtered almost everyone in the main room as Y/N took Elena’s hand and ran into the hall away from the fire and the beast.

“Elana, we have to go!” They yelled.

“Let them go!” Elana cried, shooting her dad in the head as he was on top of Y/N.

“Oh god. I’m so sorry father.” Elena whispered after she shot him a second time.

“Hey, it wasn’t your fault. That thing wasn’t your father anymore. You did the right thing.” Y/N comforted Elena.

The beast groaned and garbled as floorboards fell on top of it causing more fire to spread. Y/N slammed the door he was in and comforted Elena as she cried.

“We’ve gotta get out of here. He was already gone.” Y/N patted her shoulder.

After looking for a while, Y/N found the truck keys.

“Damn, the fire’s moving fast. Elena, get in the truck with me.” They said.

They crashed through the wall using the truck.

The fire surrounded them, Y/N bit their lip.

Looking up, they narrowed their eyes. “Nowhere to go but up.”

They helped Elena climb up with them.

“..Elena..” A garbled voice called out.

“Father?!” Elena ran towards him. Y/N tried to stop her but failed.

“Elena, wait! That’s not him!” Y/N cried.

The floorboards were cracking.

Elena ignored them.

“Elena, take my hand!” They ordered, holding out their hand to grab.

“Y/N, go! Save your daughter!” Elena cried.

“Elena, please! Don’t give up! Reach for me!” Y/N said.

Elena fell through the floorboards into the fiery abyss below.

“Damn it!” Y/N cussed.

“Why is everyone dying on me?!” Y/N cried through gritted teeth as they climbed out of the burning house.

Y/N saw the old lady again so they ran up to her.

“Death. Death has visited them all!” She cackled.

Y/N disregarded that. They accidentally walked into the gate of the castle. Digging into their bag, they realized that they had the two keys to open the door. Artifacts, the keys were.

They were about to pull the lever to the elevator when a voice stopped them after they had walked into the castle.

“Well, well. Didn’t think anyone was left! You must be pretty tough, huh?” He had a huge hammer, Y/N observed.

“Who the hell are you?” Y/N asked.

“Oh! You’re not local! Even better.” The man smirked.

“Aghk-!” Y/N groaned as a spear was jabbed into them from out of thin air.

“Mother Celine’s going to love you.” He laughed some more as more and more metals were attached to Y/N until they passed out.

…

They came back to consciousness as they were being dragged and in chains.

“Quit your whining! We’re almost there!” The man assured.

They closed their eyes again, opening them, hearing voices.

“The person is of no real use to anybody else.. And my children do so love entertaining foreigners. Furthermore, I can assure you if you entrust the mortal to enter house Iplier, my children and I shall deliver the finest of blood to you, the finest cups of his slaughtered blood.”

“Out of my way, ugly! I wanna see!”

Y/N was certain there was some deep sobbing mixed in there as well.

“Oh~! They’re awake!”

More deep sobbing.

“Both of you shut the hell up!”

“..What..? Where..?” Y/N started.

“You mean you’ll screw around with him in private? Where’s the fun in that?”

“Give him to me and I’ll put on a show that everyone can enjoy.”

“Oh, so gauche. What do we care for bread and circuses? The person’s suffering is assured, regardless.”

“Yack, yack, the person’s privates are cut off in the castle, blah blah blah!”

“I’ve heard all of your arguments. Some less persuasive than others, but.. I’ve made my decision.”

“Benjamin. The person’s fate lies in your hands.”

“Mother Celine, I must protest! Benjamin is but a child and his devotion to you is questionable. Give the mortal to me and I will ensure they are ready.”

“Shut your damn hole and don’t be a sore loser! Go find your food somewhere else.” Benjamin growled.

“Quiet now, child! Adults are talking!”

I’m the child? You’re the one arguing with Mother Celine’s decision!” Benjamin defended.

“You wouldn’t know responsibility if it was welded to that hammer!”

“Oh, keep growing, one day your head might actually fit your ego!” Benjamin yelled.

“..Hey, don’t I get a say in this?” Y/N groaned.

“Fight fight fight fight!”

“SILENCE!” Mother Celine cried.

“My decision is final. There will be no argument. Remember where you came from.” Mother Celine said.

“Thank you.” Benjamin said.

“Lycans and gentleman! We thank you for waiting! Now, let the games begin!” Benjamin announced.

He bent down to Y/N’s level.

“Let’s see what you’re really made of, Y/N Winters.” He smirked.

He slammed his hammer down in front of Y/N and started counting down.

Y/N got up and ran as fast as they could, still handcuffed. Down the yellow tinted corridor echoing the screams of the monsters. They saw a hole in the ground. Looking around, it was the only option. So, they did the only thing they could. They took the leap.

They ran and ran from the monsters when they landed.

“Agh! Jesus Christ!” They cried.

“That’s right! Run for your life!” Benjamin cackled.

----

#resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil au #wkm #who killed markiplier #wkm au #damien #celine #wkm damien #wkm celine #wkm district attorney #fanfic #x reader

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Text

I Hope We Never See October (1/?)

Summary: When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Do you know what’s a great way to distract yourself from writing and other responsibilities? By writing a story that you shouldn’t be writing. So, here we are, and I hope you enjoy 😂

On AO3 | Here |

-/-

June

The ocean water runs over his toes before disappearing, heading back to its home beyond the sand. It’s a cool contrast against the heat of the sun that’s warmly beating down on his skin, but it matches the chill of the beer bottle against his palm. Who knows what time it is? From the emptiness of the beach, Killian is guessing it’s mid-morning, but seriously, who the hell knows anymore?

Likely everyone other than him.

After more water washes over his feet and up his ankles, he decides the water is too cold to stay standing this close to the shoreline, so he walks up the path to his house and closes the gate behind him. He sits down at the bench by his pool and then buries his face in his hands before moving to take a sip of the beer.

God, he hopes it’s not truly the morning because he’s one second away from tipping the bottle enough for the beer to tumble down his throat.

Killian yanks it away and tosses it to the ground. He expects the damn thing to shatter against the tile, but it doesn’t. It rolls away into the grass, spilling a little beer with every turn until it stops against the tall grass lining the gate. Killian bends down and picks up another bottle, popping it open, then pouring it out. He does the same thing over and over again until his grass is fertilized with alcohol.

At least his body isn’t.

What a thought to have (presumably) so early in the morning.

His eyes close, the sun no longer blinding his vision, and he starts picking up the bottles, chasing them around and cursing himself for even buying the damn case in the first place. He has no clue what damn day it is, but he does know that it’s too damn early for him to be drinking. And if he’s going to get wasted and waste his day, he might as well do it with rum or whiskey. He doesn’t even like beer.

Killian chucks the bottles in the bin resting against the side of the rental house and goes through the side door into the kitchen. It’s clean today, all the white countertops empty of plates and pitchers and the junk that accumulates over time. The living room is clean as well, all the pillows in the right place, the throw blankets over the correct corners of couches, and he can see vacuum lines in the rug. He’s sure if he were to walk to the mantle, it’d be empty of dust. Ariel must have sent someone in to clean yesterday while he was away from the house. He’s got to have her stop doing that. He’s thirty-five years old. He can clean the house he’s staying in. He doesn’t need her taking care of his life for him.

Though, it is literally her job, but Ariel takes things far past being his manager. He doesn’t know anyone else who does all the things she does for their client, especially when he isn’t bringing in the same amount anymore. Sponsors aren’t exactly lining up at the door for disgraced football – not the American kind as everyone here believes – players, but he still has a few hanging around and good enough investments that he’ll be alright for a long while. Bored as hell with too much time for him to wander to bars in Martha’s Vineyard before talking himself out of them and sitting in a twenty-four-hour diner all night. He’s got his favorites. One has better coffee than the others, but the booths aren’t clean. Another has clean booths but a piss excuse for coffee, and his favorite has a selection of pies that have him eating in ways he hasn’t since he was young. Still, they’re all pathetic little places for him to spend his time so he doesn’t drink more than he can tolerate.

At least no one knows him here. It’s actually why he’s here to begin with. There are obviously less famous towns and places in the world, but he wanted to be near the ocean, wanted to at least have that if he was going to be in disgraced isolation. This area has beach for miles and different nooks to disappear into, and so far, it’s nice. He’d rather be in London or New York, but he knows this is better.

He collapses onto the couch and sees a note on the coffee table in Ariel’s neat script. When was she even here? Honestly.

Killian, Eric and I are in town for the week. Please come to lunch at our house. We’d love to have you! I know you don’t have anything better to do, so don’t bother calling me with an excuse. Hope you enjoy the clean house!

- A

He runs his hand over his face and scratches at his too-long beard before fumbling for his phone and checking the date and time. It’s half past eight. He can get two, maybe three, hours of sleep now, and he’ll only look half as pissed as he feels when he makes his way to Ariel and Eric’s house a few miles over in Tisbury.

At least he isn’t actually pissed. Always the positives, he guesses.

-/-

Ariel’s house is covered in gray shingles with white trim. The shutters are cherry red, much like her hair, and while there are obvious updates to the place, it looks just as it did in the pictures he’s seen from when Ariel was young. She was raised here, her father a local fisherman, and while she now resides outside of London, on occasion, she returns to Tisbury for a holiday. It’s why he chose to holiday here even if he’s over in Edgartown on the beach in a house too large for one person. He spent years listening to her talk about her childhood, and then visiting when she married Eric here, and he wanted that calm sense of relaxation.

Right now, however, he wants nothing more than to be back in a city. The firing squad won’t be as intrusive there where he can get lost in a crowd instead of being the center of attention.

Killian opens the unlocked front door that squeaks on its hinges, and he immediately smells garlic bread baking in the oven. She must be making her pasta, and his stomach growls for real food. As he walks through the hall at the entrance of the house, he notices that everything is the same, all the family portraits are in the same places, there are a few too many nautical decorations, but it all works. Killian looks into the kitchen, sees that it’s empty, and calls out for Ariel and Eric, no answer. He takes the liberty of checking the oven, and when he notices the bread is slightly overdone, he grabs an oven mitt and takes it out, placing the tray on the stove.

Where the hell are they?

He pushes open the kitchen door that leads to the backyard, and he sees two figures toward the side of the yard. Killian sighs and walks over to them, only stopping when he realizes it’s three people instead of two.

Ariel and Eric are talking to a gorgeous woman in a pair of small white shorts and a fitted polo. She’s got long, thick blonde hair pulled off her neck, and he can’t stop glancing down at her legs. He doesn’t usually pay much attention to people anymore, unless of course they are paying attention to him, but he cannot help but notice her. Because she’s stunning, of course, but also because he wasn’t expecting to see anyone else. He thought they would be isolated, and his gut tells him to turn around and run.

He doesn’t.

“Hello?” he starts, and they all turn to him. “I, uh, took your bread out of the oven.”

“Oh shit,” Ariel mumbles. “I forgot I’d put the bread in the oven. Is it burned?”

“No, I think I saved it just in time, love.”

Ariel’s shoulders deflate, and then she’s closing the distance between them, hugging him tightly, before Eric does the same and claps him on his back several times. He’s missed them, and it feels good to be embraced by something other than a heavy blanket. When Eric releases him, Killian can see the woman still standing in the yard, shifting on her feet.

“Hello,” he greets, nodding in her direction.

“Hi,” she nods back.

“Oh, Emma,” Ariel begins, walking over to her and grabbing her arm, “this is my friend, Killian. He’s staying on the island for awhile. Killian, this is Emma. We rent the house to her for most of the year, so we’ve invaded her home this week, I’m afraid.”

“It’s fine,” Emma says. “You guys basically give me the place for free, and I picked up some extra shifts at the club. I’d never be home anyway.”

“What do you do, love?”

“Not your love,” she corrects, and he feels the sting even if he uses the term for many a woman, “and I’m a manager at a little place by the shore, but sometimes during the summer I’ll wait tables at the local country club for extra money. The people will treat you like shit, but at least they tip well since they have no concept of real-life money.”

“What’s the restaurant?” he asks. “Maybe I could eat there.”

Her brows raise, and he gets the feeling she’s not a fan of the idea of him disturbing her at work. He gets the feeling she’s not a fan of him at all. Funny, his first impressions are usually better than this.

“The Blue Dog Tavern.” She points to the logo on her shirt. “I actually have to go there now. I just had to drop by and get my shirt since my boss is coming by today. I’ll stay out of your way when I get home tonight,” she tells Ariel and Eric. “It’ll be like I’m not even here.”

“Oh, no, honey,” Ariel sighs, smiling at Emma, “we’re the ones disturbing you. I promise, it’ll be a fast week, and then everything can go back to normal.”

Emma nods with a tight smile, and he definitely gets the idea that she isn’t a fan of having Ariel and Eric here. He wouldn’t be either if he had to share his home with his landlords. She walks away into the kitchen, leaving the door open behind her, and Killian makes a note of the restaurant she mentioned, not necessarily to see her but to venture somewhere that isn’t a twenty-four-hour diner.

“Is that why I couldn’t stay here?” Killian asks. “Because you already rent it out?”

“Yep. Plus, it’s not on the beach, and that was your request. This isn’t really to your taste anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, A?”

She shrugs and walks toward the kitchen. “Nothing. I’ve got to finish cooking. I was just about to put the pasta on the stove when Emma came in through the back gate, and I got distracted. Thanks for saving the bread, Jones.”

“Is she okay?” Killian asks Eric.

“Yeah, mate, she’s fine.” He claps his hand onto Killian’s shoulder. “And what she meant by that is that you’re an ex-football player who is hiding from the world and is used to a certain kind of luxury. You’d lose your mind living in this house for months. It’s smaller than a quarter of your flat back home.”

“I would not lose my mind living here. It’s charming.”

Eric rolls his eyes. “You would. I think the giant crab pillow in the living room would be what pushed you over the edge.”

“That thing is still here?”

“It’ll never leave, and I’ve offered to pay Emma to get rid of it many times. I think she throws it out, and it finds its way back inside.”

Killian snickers and settles down on the bench of the dining table they keep outside, letting Eric follow. He feels like he hasn’t talked to another human being in ages, and he’s only been here for a few weeks. “You know her pretty well then? Emma?”

“No,” Eric starts, waving his hand, “no, no, no, no. You cannot go there.”

“What the hell are you on about? I can’t go where?”

“Emma. You can’t go there. She’s not a one-night stand for you. She lives here, takes care of it since we’re gone all the time. You can’t mess that up. Ariel would murder you if you screwed this arrangement up.”

Killian flashes a smile, the ones he’s used to get whatever he wants a million times. There’s an art to being in the public eye, one he figured out only to ruin it all over again, but he still knows the old tricks. Smile, be charming, never let them see any hesitation in your actions. If a question is too invasive or the answer to telling, redirect. It’s all about the redirection. Killian was never one to lie, but he was certainly one to evade, especially toward the end when he couldn’t handle hearing what everyone had to say.

Here, he doesn’t want to admit that Eric might be right about him, but mostly, he’s tired of people controlling his life because they think he can’t make good decisions.

“What?” he laughs, shaking his head. “You think I’m not capable of simply asking about a woman?”

“I think you are, but I don’t want Ariel to have any reason to kill you.”

“Eric,” Ariel yells from the kitchen, stopping Killian before he can speak, “set the table! We can eat in fifteen.”

Saved by the bell. Or the Ariel.

He hates himself a little for rhyming in his head. If this is how he thinks sober, he’s not sure he wants to stay this way.

“And Killian,” Ariel calls, “you can make the lemonade!”

Okay, so maybe he can, if only because Ariel will kill him if he collapses into the pit again, and she won’t be the only one. He’s had a few downfalls into drowning in alcohol since coming here. Maybe it’s boredom, maybe it’s sadness, who the hell knows? What he does know is that it makes the demons all disappear for the night, sometimes the morning too, but then it all comes roaring back in screaming color.

And with a hell of a screaming headache.

One or two drinks every few days, he reminds himself. That’s what he’s working with, and besides the few slips, he’s been pretty damn successful.

Killian heads inside to help Ariel, though he thinks he hinders her more than helps since he can’t find a damn thing, but eventually they get it all done and eat. Mostly, he has to listen to Ariel give him a briefing on things he has to do over the next few weeks. He has contracts to sign, video interviews and conferences to attend, and they need to happen at certain times. That’s a bit obnoxious, but he can’t complain. He’d be the biggest ass in the world if he did, and he’s certainly already in the running for that title. People still want his face and brand to represent them, and he doesn’t even kick around a ball anymore.

Fools. All of them.

Ariel asks him to stay for dessert, but he’s already eaten too much off his usual diet. Old habits die hard, and he isn’t working out like he used to. Maybe he’ll take up running again soon, but right now, the thought is exhausting. Killian excuses himself from the table, hugging the Fishers goodbye and wishing them goodnight. He’s sure he’ll see them before they return to England and go back to their regular lives. Ariel still has Will and Rob to manage, so she can’t spend all of her time on him. There are other pieces of work out there.

The streets are crowded as Killian drives back to his rental house. Tourists and native islanders alike are out to go to dinner or bars, likely a party or two, and while Killian is tempted to take a turn and go out himself, he doesn’t. He continues along the GPS guide back to his rental house until the garage door is closing behind him.

Day seventeen of being here - now that he knows the date, he’s reminded of when he arrived - is done and dusted, and he cannot wait to close his eyes and go to sleep. He’s been running on fumes all day.

Once inside, Killian quickly showers and puts on a pair of pajama bottoms, collapsing under the covers of his bed as soon as possible. So, of course, that’s when his phone rings.

“It’s bloody half past one in the morning where you are.”

“And only half past eight where you are, so why are you in bed? You look horrible.”

Killian groans and pinches his nose as he props the phone up to get a better look at the screen. “Thanks, Els.”

“No problem.” She flips her blonde braid over her shoulder, and despite the time, she looks as if she could be up and ready for work in minutes. “I was up, couldn’t sleep, and I figured I needed to check on you. I’m sorry I don’t have the girls with me.”

“Did you tell Ally and Sophia I love them?”

“I tell them every day, but I think they’d appreciate it more if they heard it from their actual uncle.”

“I’ll call tomorrow.”

“Good,” Elsa sighs. She adjusts herself on her couch, pulling her blanket up higher on her body, and the familiar pang of guilt hits Killian. It happens anytime he talks to just Elsa. The girls act as a buffer, and he feels guilty for using them like that. He feels guilt about a lot of things. “How are you?”

“Good,” he lies. “Really good. I think I’m going to take up real running again soon, maybe finally check out the gym in the basement of this house. What about you, love?”

“I’m okay. Work has kept me really busy, which I like. I have this one house with the biggest garden I’ve ever seen, and designing it has proven to be a bit of a challenge. But I miss spending time with the girls. Anna has been such a big help, though. I love having her here.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure that’s great.” Killian runs his hand through his hair, yanking at the strands, and sinks a little further into the bed. It’s nice that Anna is around, that she’s been around this entire time while Killian fucked off across western Europe and then eventually to America. Yet again, he’s let someone he loves down because he’s an absolute tosser. “It’s nice to have a family you can count on.”

“Hey, don’t start that again, Killian. I’m not here for self-pity. You’ve had a hard year, and you needed some time away. No one is blaming you for that.”

“I’m not the one who lost my husband, love. I wasn’t left with two little girls with no father.”

Killian tilts his head up so he doesn’t have to see Elsa as water gathers around his eyes. Today was an okay day. Started off rough, but it ended up being alright. Now he’s gone and made Elsa talk about Liam’s death instead of having a normal conversation with her.

“My grief doesn’t negate yours, darling. You lost your brother, who was your best friend, and you lost the career you spent your entire life building. We can both be sad. It’s not a competition.”

Killian blows air out his nose and blinks the forming tears away. “How’d you get so wise?”

“Well, you see, when a child with a head the size of a football comes out of your vagina, you get special emotional intelligence. It’s something to do with all the hormones and pain.”

Killian finally looks down at his phone to see Elsa laughing, and the corners of his mouth twitch. “You make me glad to be a man.”

“You should be glad. You’re at least fifteen steps ahead of every woman in the world. Now, come on, I want to hear about everything you’ve been doing. Have you made any friends?”

“What am I? A lad in reception?”

“No, because my child in reception has many friends.”

Killian rolls his eyes. “Well, I met the loveliest waitress last night. Reminded me of my Gran, and, uh, today I met the woman who lives in Ariel and Eric’s house. Don’t think she was a fan of me.”

“However could a woman resist your charms?”

He laughs, even if he doesn’t appreciate the sarcasm, and this time when he sinks a little deeper into the bed, it’s for comfort and not to hide. When Killian got the news Liam died in a Naval accident, it felt like his world was ending, that the ground was crumbling underneath his feet. He was at the club warming up to head out onto the pitch, and suddenly his sacred place wasn’t so sacred. He couldn’t understand any words leaving Elsa’s voice over the phone. Everything was ringing, and his legs collapsed from underneath him.

He’ll never forget that day. One moment everything in his world was right, and then it wasn’t. and he’ll never get over the fact that Elsa has been the one who has had to continue holding him up when she lost someone too.

“Well, if their names are Ally and Sophia Jones, they are experts at resisting my charms.”

“Unless you give them sweets.”

Killian chuckles. “Those are my good charms.” Elsa smiles and yawns on the other end of the line. “Els, I think you need to go to sleep. I promise to call the girls tomorrow.”

She nods and flips her braid over. “Don’t go breaking your promises to them.”

“Never, love. I’m a man of my word.”

Or, at least, he used to be. His word seems to falter lately, but mostly only his words to himself. Killian looks out the glass doors and windows toward the ocean, watching the water crest much like this morning, but he hopes that tomorrow morning he won’t be standing there with a bottle of beer in his hands.

Maybe he can keep that promise to himself at least.

-/-

Tag list: @qualitycoffeethings @marrtinski @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @elizabeethan @jrob64 @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @cowboys-likeme @galaxyzxstark @galadriel26 @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic @superchocovian @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @mariakov81 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @lfh1226-linda @andiirivera @itsfabianadocarmo @captain-emmajones @ilovemesomekillianjones @capthamm

(You can be added or removed at any time. I don’t know where my list went, so I’ve just taken it from my last story 😘)

#I hope we never see october #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan fic #captain swan fanfic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan

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toraashi · 4 years

Text

‘tis the damn season (ft. oikawa tooru)

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: angst, fluff, implications of sex (there’s no sexual dialogue, the most explicit it gets is i use the word “whimper” once but theres not even graphic descriptions like i rate this PG-13), a couple swears

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: part two to this fic. Oikawa visits for the holidays after leaving for Argentina years ago. Catching up with his old flame brings back memories and reminds him of a love lost

Author’s Note: this is inspired by ‘tis the damn season by Taylor Swift. It’s so good, please listen to it, it’ll add so much to the story because I reference it lots :) also i’m dedicating this to @hikariakaashi bc she agreed to be my valentine this year hehe 🥰 also @u-make-my-heart-tsumtsum thank you for hyping this up in the discord :))

“the road not taken looks real good now, and it always leads to you.”

"Hey, it's Tooru. I'm in town for the holidays. I'd like to see you."

The sound of his voice as the audio repeated left an unpleasant feeling in his chest. It burned like longing but twisted and lurched like nervosity, a sensation he pretended he wasn't familiar with. Oikawa wasn't a nervous person. He was a confident, suave man with the world in his hands, but for some reason, leaving a voicemail for someone this dear to him, who could see through him like glass, left a slight tremble in his fingers.

The ding of his phone startled him, muscles growing taut.

10:36am

It's been so long! I'd love to see you. Would 4 at that old coffee shop work?

received

Holy shit.

It was almost embarrassing how his breath caught and his heart stuttered. It had been years, but yet here he was, hooked in with every word.

10:40am

I'll make it work

sent

10:42am

That's a first ;) i'll see you then

received

The coffee shop hadn't changed much since he'd last been. The walls were still straining with the wooden roof's weight, the floor still comprised of creaky floorboards that screeched at each drag of a chair. Sparkling red and green lights decked the rafters, hanging low and casting unique shadows across the residents. The lobby was relatively empty, and he was seated quickly at a metal table near the window. The round teapoy rocked on uneven legs when he put his arms on it, but nostalgia made up for the shoddy furniture quality. The poignant smells and whispers of piano music wafted over him like a tender memory, leaving him with visions of your sunrise smile and golden touch breezing over his fingertips. Content was the next emotion that settled over him, but before he could melt too far into it, the bell on the door jingled. Chilly winter air rushed through his hair, waking him up from the dream that was the last few years and bringing him back home. In the blink of an eye, a familiar arm was pulling at the seat in front of him. It took his brain far too long to process the rosy cheeks and snow-dusted hair before him, but once he did, an infectious grin tugged at his lips.

"Long time, no see." Your gaze was cautious and guarded, and it burned holes in his euphoria.

"Long time, no see," you repeated with a light smile, "How have you been?"

"Ah, you know, just capturing the hearts of every person in Argentina, how are you?" That earned him a tinkling laugh, and his heart beamed at the reward.

"I'm doing okay, just living my life." You greeted the waitress, plainly speaking your order, pausing to glance at him before ordering his old favorite. Honey hues glittered with unspoken fondness when you caught his gaze; he couldn't help it.

"You remembered my order. I feel special."

"Shut up. You are special, Mr. Pro Volleyball Player." You teased, inching your fingertips towards him on the table. It wasn't enough to be wanton, but he noticed, and he couldn't help but reciprocate. Eyes flicking to his hands and back up, that cautious glaze returned. "So, are you staying in town?" A warm hum in affirmation thrummed in his throat.

"I'm staying at my parents' house."

"For how long?" The words seemed full, but he wasn't sure with what.

"Just the weekend." He held your gaze like a taut string tugging you closer and closer. The air felt heavy, and his heart ached with a longing he'd suppressed for years. You opened your mouth to speak, but before anything came out, he interjected boldly. After all, what was he, if not bold? "I got your letter." Hues big and lips parted, a pink flush climbed your cheeks. If he was the same person he was years ago, he would've teased you, but now? With his heart on his sleeve and your eyes staring into his soul, how could he muster that courage up?

"And?" The single word was meek and tentative, fragile like the little bird of your unyielding love.

"Well, for one, your attempt at scratching out the last line wasn't great." There was the teasing. He couldn't hold it back for long.

"Shut up." You shied away from his crinkled eyes, pinker than you were when you stumbled in. God, he missed this.

"I won't." He drawled, closing the narrow distance between your fingertips and enveloping your hands like it didn't electrify his nerves. "And for the record, I missed you too."

"Did you?" He rubbed a calloused finger across your knuckles, holding your eyes confidently.

"How could I not miss that pretty face?"

"Stop teasing." You pouted.

"I'm not." Pensively, you stared back at him, and he admired the furrow of your eyebrows, the puff of your pouted cheeks. Your smaller hands were quaking in his, and just as he considered laying off, you spoke a conglomeration of words that shuddered up his spine.

"Would you like to stay at mine for the night? We can catch up more? I don't want to leave you just yet." A genuine smile simmered up his lips, and he linked his fingers between yours.

"You know I can't say no to you."

"Didn't seem like it when you left." The magic in his chest faltered at the blow, but the regret was evident in your expression. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I know it was about more than me." he hummed, the affectionate graze of his thumb against your knuckles resuming.

The conversation felt much too short, every move you made clenching his heart, brimming it with innocent nostalgia and longing. Before long, you were tugging him out the door, leading him to your apartment in a movie-worthy montage. The silver moonlight caught your hair like silk, your gossamer grip on his wrist balmy and familiar.

"My, you're eager." When you glanced back, your eyes sparkled like the sequins on your prom getup from so many years ago.

"Is it stupid that I missed you so much?" The way his heart caught in his throat was almost painful. Chest aching, he concluded that this was what happiness felt like, a hummingbird flutter he'd never find in the falsities of fame. You, who knew him like the muddy road to your secret high-school hangout spot, looked ethereal beneath the moon's knowing smile. As you approached the door, he couldn't help but dip his toes into the subdued desire he'd grown to ignore.

Your chest pressing into his, your back to the door, his fingertips firm against your waist, and finally, the brush of your reposeful kiss against his needy lips, it left him with frantic desperation clawing up his body. You broke away with a similar gleam tucked into your gaze like a secret just for him. Swinging the door open and fumbling with your jacket, you found your place in his arms again, a mutual craving for a love that was cut so short.

He did many things that night he'd only remembered in dreams, his frame pressing your familiar figure into the bed, lips tracing every line of your silhouette, the dips and curves in your skin, sealing each forgotten memory in an envelope for him to read later. Just for tonight, he'd bask in your entirety, the glow of your smile, the whimpers that spilled past your pretty lips, everything that was purely you. When everything was done and gone, the flaxen glow of your lamplight flickering out, you pulled him into your arms, twirling the chocolate strands of his hair, breathing in his adoration, your own lulling him into a long-awaited, dream-filled slumber. He dreamed of his past self getting lost in the empty arms of another, the void carved out by your existence impossible to fill. He dreamed of the life he'd lead if he'd remained in your embrace, waking up to you every morning instead of cold sheets.

He awoke with the December sun, your bare skin blinding in the morning's glow. Glancing at the red numbers on your nightstand, he stretched his arms. It was almost ten, but the warmth of your body reeled him back in like a fishing pole, his mouth splattering kisses across your visage like freckles. Swelling with delight, he collected you into his arms, setter's fingers revisiting the map he drew on your body like the ink was still drying, greeting you with a grin as your eyes lolled open.

"Morning, babe." Oikawa scanned the love-struck expression painting your features, the scrunch of your nose, the quirk of your lips; he inhaled it like it was his last breath, coming to terms with the time and its draining sand. Raising a lone finger, he followed the shape of your jawline, locking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Sleep well?" You neglected to respond, searching his gaze.

"If this is the last time I ever see you, I want you to know that I've always loved you, and I won't ask you to stay." The last grain of sand in the hourglass tumbled through the glass gap, the alarm clock on your nightstand beeping abruptly, stealing Oikawa's breath.

And as he looked upon your effervescent figure, shattering his own battered heart at the realization, Oikawa decided the road not taken never looked more appealing than now.

#hqradiostation #oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa imagine #oikawa scenario #oikawa haikyuu #oikawa fluff #oikawa angst #oikawa fanfiction #hq x reader #hq oikawa

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tact-and-impulse · 4 years

Text

Shinkane Week 2021 Day 5

For the “arranged marriage” prompt, I went for the Sengoku era.

In Place

Akane hoped that at the very least, he would be kind.

She set her mirror down, unable to look at her reflection any longer. The heavy embroidered robes, the cosmetics on her face, her hair hidden away under white silk. The guilt in her eyes.

Yuki had been the charming one, the one who was supposed to marry a general aligned with their closest neighbor. She had cheerfully shown her wedding garments to Akane during her last visit, that she had only met her betrothed once but liked him immensely and he had been pleased with her in turn. It seemed a fitting fate for Yuki, who wanted nothing more than to have a happy marriage.

Then, Sasayama Mitsuru had died on the battlefield.

The news had been delivered, along with the fact that the engagement would now be with a different general instead. Yuki had fainted and then grew feverish. It was believed that she had been weakened by the sudden upheaval of events, it was too much for her frail spirit to bear. But whatever the truth was, it would forever remain a mystery. Her dear cousin was gone too quickly, in the span of a night that left Akane numb and paralyzed.

At the funeral, she learned that the wedding would be occurring anyway. With her, in place of Yuki. She barely registered anything after that. The sewing alterations, the packing of her belongings, the trousseau moved to her room, that would only remain so for another two weeks.

Most of the ceremony passed in a blur. She kept her eyes downcast, sensing that her new husband was taller than she was and catching the aroma of kizami when he moved. He must have smoked the shredded tobacco, and she racked her mind for what else she knew about him. He was a little younger than Sasayama had been, but he had already cultivated a favorable reputation. Had he ever met with Yuki?

She glanced up at him, and though she didn’t recognize his handsome features, she couldn’t complain. His expression was stoic, serious. Then, his gaze slid to her, and she immediately turned back to the proceedings. She was much more aware of her surroundings, than she had been since Yuki’s death.

She actually tasted her food at the celebratory dinner, though her appetite hadn’t fully returned yet. Her husband wasn’t faring any better, and in her periphery, he was frowning. As the guests descended into merrymaking and she sipped her sake, he spoke for the first time.

“Do you want to leave?”

Oh. Well, there was that part to a wedding, and she hurriedly downed the rest of her drink. Swallowing the burn, she agreed. “Y-yes.”

His hand was larger than hers, callused and strong, but he touched her gently and she appreciated that. Her face flamed at the cheering and his grip tightened. The hallway was quieter, the party’s sounds muffled, and she felt like she could breathe.

“I hope everyone will behave.” She said aloud, as he presumably led the way to the chamber. Their chamber.

“They’re only pleased about the alliance. It would have been the same, whether it was us or your cousin and my friend. We’re a couple of shogi pieces, that’s all.” His voice was dark with resentment, but it wasn’t bad to listen to.

“I’m sorry about your friend. General Sasayama was kind enough, from what I remember. He and Yuki could have been happy together. Not that it matters now…” The grief opened up again, the cloudiness returning.

“No, it doesn’t. He was too reckless, he got himself killed because he wasn’t satisfied, and his death took your cousin with him.” Outwardly, he sounded angry, and he slammed the door a little too hard. Inside the room, a lantern illuminated the sparse interior. One futon, with two pillows. He pulled her inside, before taking hold of the sliding door again. She wasn’t sure where to look, what to do. Of course, the basic instructions had been provided, but she was too nervous to start anything. She flinched as his sleeve brushed hers, and he must have noticed.

He walked around her, taking one of the pillows and tucking it under his arm. “Are you tired?”

“A little. It’s been a long day.” She let out a shaky laugh.

“Then, get some rest.” He blew out the lantern, the room plunging into darkness. She clutched her embroidered outer kimono, trying to still her trembling fingers. But he never approached, his footsteps drifting away. “That’s your side. This is mine.” A pause. “Good night.”

“…Good night?”

The silence crept up, and when she realized nothing would happen tonight, she smiled.

***

They still hadn’t consummated the marriage, when she traveled with him. He explained that until winter, they would be residing with his lord’s family and she would be assisting the lady, while he was on campaign.

“Do you know how to use a naginata?”

“I have some training.”

“Rely on it. We get attacked on a regular basis.”

“Eh?” She hadn’t heard of that before. “What about the castle’s defenses?”

“They’re adequate, but you should be prepared, in case there’s a spy. Don’t trust anyone easily.”

“Not even you?”

“If I act dishonorably, you shouldn’t hesitate.”

“I don’t think you will.”

His gaze might have softened, but he never responded.

Within the castle town, she was introduced to a variety of people. The lord, who seemed rather easygoing, and his demure, proper wife accompanied by her ladies-in-waiting. The metsuke, Ginoza. The seasoned general, Masaoka, and the recently promoted Kagari. There was even a warrior woman, Kunizuka. They all seemed pleasant, addressing her as the wife of General Kougami. It was strange at first, but she did her best to be just as kind.

Meanwhile, she and her husband slept apart from each other, as much as they could with one bed. He hadn’t made a move yet. She considered that he had a mistress, but from what Kagari told her, he only trained in his spare time. And although it was commonplace, she didn’t like the idea that there was another woman. He always came back to her anyway.

He had seen the books she brought with her and skimmed through each one. He genuinely seemed interested in her tastes and didn’t belittle her opinions. His questions were direct, calculating, and purposeful. He shared his books too, marked with his notes. Her husband had neat handwriting, she thought. In the evenings, he smoked his pipe as he read his own papers, and she found the sight comforting.

Not long after her arrival, an enemy clan drew too close. The entire household mobilized, and she saw him off. Along with his armor, he had a mask to resemble a wolf’s open mouth, but she didn’t feel any terror. It was only her husband, who was resolute and intelligent. She had faith in him.

“Be careful. I hope you’ll win.”

“Ah.” His hand lifted and for a moment, she thought he was going to touch her face. Instead, he ruffled her hair. “I’ll return soon.”

She watched him leave, feeling oddly empty.

It was a harder fight than expected, and the news came that they had been breached. The lady was newly pregnant, and after ensuring her safety, Akane took up her naginata and headed for the battlements. She could barely see past the drizzling rain, and the clamor was deafening. An arrow whizzed past her hair, and she felt pain and a warm trickle past her temple. But she kept going, searching for any unfamiliar faces.

At one corner, there were two figures, one readying to finish off his prone opponent. It was hard to discern who they were, but the man who was down seemed to have a mask. In the dim torchlight, she spotted the painted fangs on porcelain. She lunged forward and drove her naginata into the stranger, who tumbled over the wall.

“Akane!” Her husband was surprised to see her, and he struggled to rise. With her aid, he was able to stand. He’d suffered a few minor wounds, but he was still speaking and breathing. “You’re here.”

“Yes, I couldn’t stand by and wait.”

He blinked, the rain in his eyes. “Where’s the lady?”

“She’s in hiding. I’m glad you’re alright.”

“So are you.” He gripped her shoulder, and he gave a strained smile. “Stay safe!” Before she could reply, he was running off. She sincerely prayed he wouldn’t die, and she lifted her spear with renewed determination.

By dawn, the enemy had been subjugated. She had returned to their room, examining her head wound. Thankfully, the bleeding had stopped and it wasn’t very deep. She had finished bandaging it again, when the door opened.

“Shinya-san!” She rushed to him. He looked tired, but the dried blood had been cleaned off, and strips of white cloth covered his chest. She pulled him to the futon, urging him to sit and rest. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“No.” He seemed distracted, not quite meeting her eyes.

“If you need to sleep, I’ll leave you alone.” She was about to leave, but he grabbed her wrist. He stared at his own grasp, his thumb slowly bending. She ignored the heat overcoming her, lowering her voice. “Please, tell me what you need. I’m your wife, I want to help you.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t regret saying that.” And he kissed her, with unrestrained ferocity. She was too stunned to react, and when he parted from her, his eyes were completely dark. “Did you not like it?”

“I don’t know. One more time?”

He leaned towards her again, and she tried to meet him. Gentler than before, but his fingers twining through hers demonstrated that the passion hadn’t subsided. Breaking for air, he asked. “So? Should we stop?”

“No. Never.” And she initiated, claiming his mouth. He pulled her down and for a while, there was no need for words.

Neither of them were intended to be in this marriage at first, but they were now and the life that stretched ahead wasn’t terrible at all.

#shinkaneweek #shinkane #i just keep going back in time with the historical aus huh #psycho pass

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 years

Text

Foxconn out-trumped Trump

In 2017, Donald Trump declared victory. Working with the far-right Wisconsin governor Scott Walker, he had brokered a deal to bring high-tech manufacturing jobs back to America, with a new, massive Foxconn plant that would anchor the new Wisconn Valley. Right away, there were three serious, obvious problems. I. Foxconn are crooks. It's not just the Apple device factories where they drive workers to suicide, it's a long history of promising to build massive factories, absorbing billions in subsidies, and then bailing. It's a con they'd already pulled in Indonesia, Vietnam, Brazil and in Pennsylvania. The US heist happened only four years before the Wisconsin deal (which offered $4b in subsidies!) was signed. II. The plant made no sense. Foxconn promised that it would employ tens of thousands of American workers building massive LCDs. The world did not need massive LCDs. It had a glut of them. The price for cheap LCDs built by low-waged workers in the Pacific Rim was tumbling. III. There was already stuff where the plant was supposed to be built. Notably, there were family homes, places that had been owned by Wisconsinites for generations, real homesteads. In order for Foxconn to build its nonsensical plant and receive $4b in US public subsidies, these families would have to be expropriated and their homes - their whole communities - literally bulldozed and dumped into landfills. The deal revealed - if there was any doubt - that Trump is a rube, a sucker, a fool. Foxconn played him and played Walker and the state of Wisconsin. They never planned to build an LCD plant. Indeed, they seem never to have planned to build ANYTHING. They wanted the free money as a subsidy for exploring what they might build, and they knew that the best way to get Wisconsin and the USA to subsidize this speculation was to tell risible lies about multibillion-dollar LCD factories that credulous US leaders would swallow. No news outlet has done more to chronicle the endless, absurd, idiotic Foxconn grift than The Verge, and while many writers there have worked on the story (like Bruce Murphy and James Vincent), Josh Dzieza has been the most indefatigable chronicler of the Foxconn shitshow. Now, after reporting out piece after piece on the Foxconn deal, Dzieza has published a kind of master narrative that tells the whole story from beginning to end, piecing it all together and augmenting it with new insider dope: https://www.theverge.com/21507966/foxconn-empty-factories-wisconsin-jobs-loophole-trump Dzieza's masterpiece leaves no doubt that this was a titanic fraud, nor that it was incompetently negotiated by Wisconsin's local and state officials as well as the federal government. Take the subsidies: to qualify for them, Foxconn had to meet various hiring targets. But those targets were easily gamed. So long as Foxconn had a certain number of workers on the books in December, it could count them as employed for the whole year, even if it laid them off in January. Which, of course, it did. Indeed, the way Foxconn uses human lives as conveniences not worthy of any consideration make it clear that the suicides at its Apple factories are not isolated incidents (and also constitute a stinging rebuke to Walker and Trump's union-bashing). To prop up its sham, Foxconn sent recruiters out to hold high-pressure job fairs where applicants were pressured to immediately accept job offers and tender their resignations at their current employers. Then they were strung along for months as they jobs they'd been promised didn't materialized, and, for many, those jobs did not ever materialize. Workers who DID get jobs hardly fared better, showered in racist abuse about their inferiority to Asian workers. They were asked to work in facilities without furniture, made to bring in their own pencils AND NETWORKING EQUIPMENT, made to buy new elevator carpets out of their own pockets to assuage the screaming rages of their managers, given impossible duties or none at all. At various stages, these workers were called in to brainstorm ideas for building something, anything, in the facilities that Foxconn had been given at firesale prices by the state of Wisconsin. Some ideas:

A fish-farm that could absorb the subsidized water they'd been guaranteed for cooling the data-center they would never build

An AI research lab

A Wework clone

A dairy exporter serving the Chinese market

A federal tech contractor

None of this bore fruit. The only time Foxconn turned a nickel was when they bought in-use office buildings with the intention of using them for some harebrained scheme but lost interest before they could evict the businesses tenanted there, and so earned some rent. Foxconn eventually laid off the bulk of its US workforce and hired Indian and Chinese tech-workers on H1B visas, whom it showered with even more abuse, backstopped by threats of deportation if any of them dared to complain. All along, Foxconn just told stupid lies that Wisconsin's business community gobbled up: Foxconn founder Terry Guo got fantastic praise for his $100m donation to the U Wisconsin system. None of that praise was revoked when he only delivered $700k of it. The Foxconn deal is a black hole that has sucked Wisconsin's productive economy through its event horizon. The company charged local businesses thousands of dollars to get signed up as suppliers, then stiffed them on their invoices. And the towns - like Mt Pleasant - that destroyed their residents' family homes to clear the way for Foxconn lost those taxpayers - and never got the promised tax payments that a Foxconn facility was supposed to deliver. Here's Dzieza's masterful summary: "Trump promised to bring back manufacturing... Into the gap between appearance and reality fell people’s jobs, homes, and livelihoods." Trump calls the Foxconn plant "The Eighth Wonder of the World." In 2018, Wisconsin voters fired Scott Walker for being such a plute-sucking rube. In 2020, they have the chance to fire Trump.

#pluralistic

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gottaenjoythelittlethingzz · 3 years

Text

Remember When

“Come on, Ray. Tell us one more time!” Jasper pleaded.

“Son, I’ve told you kids the story of how we met at least a hundred times already.”

Henry, Charolette, and Jasper were clustered tightly together on the mobile couch. Platters of homemade food were scattered about and their plates were piled high. They had come down to the Man Cave for Friday night dinner as had become the routine. Schwoz was joining them, too, although he sat at the computer desk monitoring for crime in the city. The kids were sat across from their hosts who had graciously prepared the meal and were currently on the chopping block undergoing intensive questioning.

Ray sneered at the boy. “Why is it you’re always the one asking about our personal lives anyway?”

Jasper grew sheepish. “I like to live vicariously.”

“Maybe you should let Chey tell the story for once,” Charolette suggested with a playful strain in her voice which told the group her idea was both reasonable and preferred.

Ray sat with his elbows on the table and his knees spread wide taking up as much space as he possibly could despite being the largest person in the room. Cheyanne had one ankle propped against her opposite knee and was sitting up high on the couch’s back beside him. Her flashy jewelry around her wrists and neck which always coordinated with her casually stylish clothes jingled with her every movement.

Ray carried on unfettered. Shoveling fork fulls of the brisket he’d spent the better part of a day prepping into his big mouth, but it was the side dishes he was really gunning for. The fresh cut fruit, the casserole, the hand mashed potatoes, and Cheyanne’s special gravy. He supposed it was like most any other gravy, but like all her dishes, there was no one who put as much passion and care into cooking as her. “Alright Chey, give ‘em what they want. Just make sure to tell it so that I come out looking good.”

Cheyanne bit the inside of her lip refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her say, ‘you always do’. His ego was not in need of boosting. “As you kids know, I had just completed my masters degree at a college in Los Angeles. I was considering taking up residency in Rivalton -“

“Boo!” The children ridiculed the neighboring suburb. Schwoz echoed their sentiments though he wasn’t quite sure why. His motivations were to fit in.

“- where they have an amazing accounting firm. It seemed as good a place as any to work while I decided if I wanted to continue school or start a career. And I was passing through Swellview when I decided to stop for lunch at the Nacho Ball.”

“The nice one,” Ray interjected. He lifted his fork to make an emphatic sweeping gesture. “Because she is one classy lady.”

“I was walking along the road.”

“Because she cares about the environment.” Ray pointed assured of his words that were most definitely wrong.

“Because I hadn’t picked up my rental car yet. And it was a sunny day.” Cheyanne tossed her head exasperatedly to one side and her curls bounced on her shoulders. “Anyway, when these two burly men wearing panty hoes like ski masks come barreling out of the restaurant.”

Jasper gasped dramatically and cupped his cheeks as though it were the first time he were hearing the tale. Henry reached his arm behind Charlotte’s shoulders and flicked Jasper’s ear.

Ray struck a manly pose with gravy trailing the corner of his mouth. He’s not the messiest eater in the world. He just enjoys large portions and tends to get carried away. “I had just been in the middle of stopping a high steaks robbery. They emptied the cash register, but screwed up when they decided to stick around for the daily pie special to warm in the microwave.”

Schwoz waved his own hand in front of his face to inform Ray of his predicament. Ray lowered his hands deterred in the time it took him to wipe his face with a clothe napkin embroidered with the Captain Man logo.

“You could totally see the men’s faces. Every detail, could’ve picked them in a lineup. Not very bright,” Cheyanne included. “They were heading right towards me!”

“So, what’d you do?” Charolette asked, egging the details on.

“Captain Man was a little behind the robbers, so I didn’t see him at first.”

“Hey, everyone knows Wednesdays are ‘wax the floors and ceilings’ day for the Nacho Ball fast food chain.” Ray puffed his chest out a little in his own defense.

“There I was, a civilian, and new to town, no less. Two criminals charging the four way intersection I had stopped at. Money bag in the hand of one, pie bag in the hand of the other.” Cheyanne raised her fists in demonstration to illustrate a vivid picture of the crime scene. “I did what any sensible mathematician would think to do.”

“I calculated how long it would take the robbers to reach the intersection on foot. Then I did a rough estimation of the traffic lights’ cycle. Determining when I should click the ‘to walk’ button for the lights to flip over and keep the perps from crossing.”

Ray sighed a little dreamily at what tended to be his favorite part. He proclaimed, “Isn’t she so dang smart!”

“That’s something I could have done.” Schwoz murmured under his breath sounding piqued that his boss never complimented his own successes.

“Can it Schwoz! This isn’t about you.”

“Just saying. Just saying. Continue, Cheyanne.” Schwoz swiveled his chair around to face the monitors head on already certain of the ending.

Cheyanne picked the story back up. “I pressed the button, and the light flips. The signal the robbers see as they approach the crosswalk is ‘do not cross’.”

“If she’d pressed the button any sooner the cycle might have done a full rotation and they would have continued running too far ahead for me to catch up. Any later, the signal might have stopped me and they absolutely would have escaped.” Ray took over the story for a time, remembering the encounter with a jolt of adrenaline and a wicked smile growing bit by bit across his face.

“Only these none too bright criminals didn’t have the best reaction time. The first one stopped, sure. Acting like a cartoon character with his toes vertical on the curb and his arms swinging wildly to stop his forward motion.” Cheyanne’s bright smile faltered a little on the most gruesome of the details. “The second, taller guy ran into the first. Pushed his buddy right into oncoming traffic. He must have felt awful.”

Ray gave a hearty laugh. “Haha, an ambulance had to be called when the first guy was hit by a Prius. Broke three ribs. I gave his pal a bloody lip, so the guy wouldn’t feel lonely in the hospital. Turned them over to the police who arrived on scene, and I returned the stolen goods.”

Cheyanne winked. “After he walked me to the Nacho Ball. Our first date was while he was wearing the super suit. I technically didn’t even know who he was at the time.”

“I didn’t keep you waiting long. Any woman who would look danger in the eye and react with such precision was bound to be the one for me. And she was!”

“Hey Chey,” Charolette inquired in that moment, “We always hear about why Ray stopped and talked to you. But what did you first notice about him that made you think twice about accepting his lunch request? And don’t say it was the super suit.”

“It was definitely the hair.” Henry continuously pushed his vegetables around his plate with his fork wondering what Cheyanne made for dessert.

“Was it his eyes,” Schwoz asked. He threw his head backwards over the rim of the chair. Not exactly looking back at the table. More looking up at the ceiling lost in a romantic, idealistic haze of his own creation. It made everyone at the table a bit uneasy, but that’s how Schwoz made everyone feel.

“It was his kindness,” Cheyanne insisted. “The way he made sure all the pedestrians in the area were not too rattled by the accident. The way he offered to walk me to my destination.”

Ray smiles in an insecure but sincere fashion. “To be fair to me, we were going in the same direction.” He huffed a laugh and felt his ears heat up.

“When he says he returned the items, he did return the money, but then he passed out the pies to the patrons there.”

“They were still warm from the running. We split a rare flare berry special.” Ray nodded with his lips pursed.

“I noticed his kind heart first.”

“Awwww honest?” He asked enthusiastically. And the nod he received had him leaning his head on Cheyanne’s knee to face his friends and wrapping his hands loosely around her ankle planted on the seat. He sighed to himself.

With Ray turned away, Cheyanne made a show of getting everyone’s attention on her. And then, she motioned towards Ray’s biceps and exaggeratedly mouthed the words, ‘his arms!’.

The table erupted. Schwoz tumbled backwards in his partially reclining seat to mock Ray to his face. Ray sat straight up, yanked from his pleasant, contented feelings, and scanned all the happy faces. Cheyanne merely ran her painted nails through his hair and said she’d return soon with the brownies she made.

#oc intro #henry danger #fanfiction #fanfic writing #fanfiction writer #henry danger fanfiction #ray manchester #ask me about my ocs #ask me about my fandoms #oc: Cheyanne #my ocs #fangirl #oc x Ray Manchester #fluffy #domestics bliss

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chaseatinydream · 4 years

Text

pirate king (39) || atz

You aren’t sure whether you heard her wrongly.

“No?” The word bounces around in your head several times, as if mocking you over and over again. You’re stunned into disbelief. You’ve traveled the ocean, battled a furious storm, got chomped through the arm by a crazy siren, all to be told that the sea witch before you does know everything about who you were before, but is unwilling to tell you?

Your captain scowls, fingers tightening on the hilt of his cutlass as he glares at the sea witch in the eye. “You said that you’d answer her questions.”

She doesn’t flinch in the least, even when he draws the weapon on her. Instead, her eyes merely darken like a stormy sky, and suddenly, the winds around her starts to pick up as if in response to her anger, rising to a whistling howl that whips your hair into your eyes and stings your skin. “Correction. I said that I would answer the questions to the best of my ability. Fortune shines upon you, mortal, that my lady’s blessing protects you. Do not test me. It is only by her grace that you can even step foot on this beach.”

Hongjoong doesn’t back down, cutlass still raised.

“Wait, wait, wait-” You’ve been completely ignoring their little face off for the last few minutes, trying to fully understand what on earth is happening. You want to rip out your hair and scream, but now’s not the time for that. “Why… Why?”

Eldoris’ expression remains completely neutral, as if her features have been carved from stone. Her pokerface could give San’s a run for its money any day.

“I agreed to answer all the questions you had for me within my power. This one is one I cannot answer.”

Your face goes flat as you battle to keep from swearing in front of this supposedly powerful sea witch, you’re tempted to smack her in the face and shake her back and forth, screaming in her face. The words tumble out of your words before you can stop them.

“So you know about me before I got into this body,” you gesture to yourself frantically, “and you know how I came to be in it, you also know why I lost my memories, but you just don’t feel like telling me?”

The last words are spat out with fury and for a moment, you swear you can see the sea witch flinch a little, guilt flitting across her face. But she breathes in deeply and answers your question with an even voice.

“I wish to help you in any way I can, but I cannot tell you the answer to this.”

She’s as unhelpful at answering your questions as San when it comes to steering the ship and you literally on the verge of throwing a hysterical fit when something finally strikes as odd at the way she has replied to you so far.

“You won’t tell me…” You ask hesitantly, studying her face for a change of each expression. “Or you can’t tell me?”

At that, her shoulders relax slightly, as if relieved that you’ve finally gotten it. She nods, neutral expression closest to earnest you’ve ever seen.

“I cannot.”

You feel like you’ve been smacked across the face with a dead fish.

“Then can you tell me why you cannot?”

Those words seem to lift a weight of her shoulders, even though the light in her eyes remain grim as ever when she nods once more. The next words that leave her mouth have you even more shocked than you were before.

“I am bound by an unbreakable oath to my mistress with my very soul as collateral.” She says softly, each word serious as grave. Your eyes widen in stunned disbelief. “To not reveal or impart knowledge of who you were before you came to be in this body to you, or anyone else, no matter how desperately they beg for it, in case you ever regain your memories.”

What? Her soul as collateral?

“Wait… this mistress you’re talking about…” You force out, trying desperately not to hyperventilate. This is honestly getting too crazy for your brain to handle. “Who is she?”

At those words, a proud gleam comes into her eye and she straightens her back, meeting your gaze with a look you don’t quite understand.

“What the mortals call the sea goddess.”

At that, you do choke. You’ve been hearing these terms being thrown around so casually, sea witch, fortune teller, ancient magic, but hearing Eldoris say the words with so much confidence and surety seals everything for you. Magic is real. Then the meaning of what she’s just said hits you like a tidal wave.

“What would the sea goddess want with me? Why does she not want me to regain my memories?” You sputter out, burying your hands in your hair as you try to make sense of it all. Have you offended the sea goddess herself in the past? Is she playing some sort of sadistic joke on you?

But Eldoris merely shakes her head once, her eyes pleading for you to understand.

“It’s for your own good, Chin Hae-” She begins, but you’ve finally had enough. Everything in you snaps like a caving dam and anger floods through you, the wind howling in your ears furiously as the waves break against the reef barrier to swirl around your feet.

“Why? How can losing my memories possibly be for my own good? Curse the sea goddess, I’m going to freaking murder her, I-”

Eldoris’ next words are as clear as the sky.

“If you recover your memories, you’ll die.”

Every part of your body seems to turn to ice simultaneously, blood freezing in your veins as you stare at her, unmoving. Your mind is completely silent except for that one sentence, resounding again and again in your head.

If you recover your memories, you’ll die.

You can barely register Hongjoong’s arms pulling you to him as he tries to reassure you, but his words simply drift past your ears like the whistling of the wind.

You’ll die you’ll die you’ll die-

“What do you mean?” You hear your captain demand, and you desperately try to pull the shreds of your focus together so you can hear her explanation.

Eldoris stares at you gravely.

“Regaining her memories means her death.” The sea witch says gently, a pitying look in her eye as she shakes her head in response to Hongjoong’s question. “A degradation of the physical body that now contains her essence, to be more exact. They are trapped within the body she resides in. If you free them, her body dies too.”

The fortune teller’s words come back to you hauntingly.

You will never find what you so desperately seek as long as you live.

You stare at your own hands in horror. This cursed shell, this body of clay, it’s the thing that’s keeping you apart from your memories? For the first time ever since you discovered you’re a golem, you feel truly hollow, a gaping, empty hole in your chest where your heart lies, where your memories are held.

A muffled scream breaks free from your throat and your knees feel weak, your legs crumple and you hunch over the ground with your hands tearing at your hair. You feel like you want to physically rip your brain from your skull and demand for it to spit out your memories now, because you’d rather regain your memories right this second and die, in comparison to the agony of living the rest of your life without knowing who you are.

Your breath catches as you stare at the cutlass hanging at your side.

Maybe… maybe if you just…

You’re so tempted to, gods, your memories are just within your reach. It’s all you’ve ever wanted the second you woke up, and now you can finally have them. It’s in your grasp. It’s all in your hand.

All you have to do is take it.

Your fingers inch for your cutlass.

“Chin Hae, no!” Hongjoong catches your wrist before you can clench your fingers around the hilt and you’re jerked out of your trance to stare at him, still dazed. His bright green eye is terrified, swallowed by concern and fear, and then a painful, heart wrenching sensation twists in your chest.

Hongjoong’s cries when he endured the whipping for you, the sound of skin tearing with every lash and the metallic scent of blood in the air.

San’s bright smile as he held your hands in his, healing the scrapes on your palms, softly guiding you through each step of the process.

Yeosang’s shudder as three bullets hit him in the back, ripping through his flesh, blood gushing from his wounds.

Mingi’s gaze as he sat with you on that pink, sandy beach, telling you about his captain and crew with a fond smile on his face.

Seonghwa’s laughter as you burnt yet another steak and he ate it anyway with a smile on his face, praising you for your improvement under his tutelage.

Yunho’s sigh when he stood in that crow’s nest with you, the story about him and his brother falling from his lips as the sun rose before you.

Jongho’s chuckle as he swiped a cream bun straight from your hands before popping it into his mouth, laughing at the pout on your face before dropping his cake into your lap.

Wooyoung’s earnest smile as he hands you the silver hairpin with hesitant eyes, your fingers brushing as you stare at it in awe.

Through your tears you laugh in despair, burying your face in your hands. On one hand, ever so enticing, lie your memories, your history, your identity. You so badly want to take it, more than anything else, but on the other hand…

“I name you Choi Chin Hae, family of the ATEEZ crew.”

Your heart splits in two from the sheer pain of the choice you have to make. For a moment, when you close your eyes, you see someone staring back at you in your mind.

It’s the green eyed man.

You’re back on that beach once more, sky dotted with stars. There are tears running down your cheeks as you feel the breath of the wind in your lungs, the steady beating of your heart in your chest for the first time. He smiles at you so fondly as you reach out and hold him close, his hand running through your hair.

“I believe it, I know it, I can see it. I trust that you can make your path the right one. You will find a name deserving of you, given to you by those who love you. Take this and go to the town of Raguza. Your journey begins there.” He whispers into your ear and you nod, sniffling and moving back as he presses a kiss to your temple. Around your shoulders he puts a coat of land cloth, something that has not touched you in millenia. A red rose is embroidered on the back. “Your fate intertwines with a mortal once more.”

You turn towards the sea, one foot touching the waves, and you hesitate. It’s as if your eyes are drawn to him, you glance over your shoulder to meet his gaze one last time. But you cannot linger for long, already you can feel your new body beginning to crumble ever so slowly into clay once more.

He hasn’t moved from the beach, although his smile turns sad.

“You don’t have much time. Go, and don’t look back.”

His name swirls around in your mind like a final memory, before it spirals into the air and vanishes with the wind.

Don’t look back.

Like a breath of air, the vision fades and you’re staring into your captain’s eye once more, his arms tight around you as he begs you desperately again and again not to leave them.

He’s trembling against you, his fingers digging into your wrists as if he’s trying to physically prevent you from doing anything rash. Incoherent mumbles fall from his mouth, all beseeching you to stay, not to do anything foolish, and that’s when you have your answer.

It hurts you so much to give up on your memories like this. But you know, deep within you, that giving up on them would be a fate worse than death.

So, closing your eyes one last time, you imagine the you from before in your mind.

She appears, standing upon the ocean waves as she looks at you in the eye. Both of you are eerily identical, though her skin seems to be luminous and crystal-like as a figment of your imagination, her eyes shifting colours like the mermaid you had seen on the stone wall outside. She smiles at you, a quirk to her mouth that seems both happy and wistful at the same time, her hair flying with the sea breeze as you make your choice. You raise your hand in farewell, reluctance tearing at every fibre of your being.

“Goodbye.”

With those words, she closes her eyes and simply melts away into seafoam, swirling with the waves and disappearing from sight.

“Chin Hae? Chin Hae?” Your captain is shaking you now, and you stare at him for a moment, trying to remember who you are and what you’re doing. Then you see wetness starting to gather at the corners of his eyes and it suddenly hits you.

“I’m not-” The words get caught in your throat, so you pause to swallow and before you try to speak once more. “I’m not… I’m not going to leave all of you behind.”

At that, your captain visibly sags in relief, slumping against you, but it’s nothing compared to the weight that falls from your shoulders. The moment you declared that, it became the truth. You would stay with the crew no matter what. You understand how Seonghwa could leave Nassau behind and stay on the Treasure instead now, because the crew were his family.

Eldoris’ eyes pierce yours like a blade, although something in her seems relieved.

“So, what will you do now?”

You shrug as Hongjoong picks himself off the ground, reaching out a hand to help you up. You take it.

“I’ll go wherever the Treasure goes.” You say, and the words are light, as if you’ve been freed from invisible chains that had been holding you down. Your memories are well and truly out of your grasp, you have no more goal to chase after. Hongjoong takes your hand and squeezes tight, fingers locking with yours.

Eldoris nods, although a little hesitant this time. Her deep blue eyes meet yours.

“I’m glad that you found what you had been searching for this whole time, Choi Chin Hae.” She tells you, but her words are solemn, and something tells you she’s not talking about your memories. You frown, but you’re honestly not in the mood to play anymore mind games with the sea witch.

But you do have one final question you want answered before you leave this island behind you forever.

“The name of the green eyed man… do you know it?”

You at least want to know the name of the mysterious man who has been in your dreams for so long. Eldoris shakes her head, and you feel your heart sink in disappointment.

“He has no name.”

At that, you’re a little startled. He doesn’t have a name? How can anything on this earth not have a name? But the sea witch continues speaking.

“For divine beings such as he, he is omnipresent, the closest thing to all powerful any conscious can reach.” She says the words with such reverence you almost feel like you should bow before her. You flinch at the word divine, brows furrowed in confusion. “But they have no souls as the mortals do, they are merely consciousnesses formed of great power. In the end, when this world dies, they will fade away and cease to exist, even when the souls of humans dwell on forever. Thus they have no names, for they have no imprint upon this world.”

Your heart sinks in your chest as you think of the green eyed man, his gentle smile lingering in your mind. The thought of him simply becoming… nothing… it scares you, even though you barely know him.

“But they do call each other by the words that the Creator called them into existence with.” You startle a little in surprise when the sea witch’s voice takes on an almost melancholy tone. “I cannot speak the words myself with this human tongue, for only creatures created at the beginning of time can, such as the Kraken. I so dearly wish I could do the same and address my mistress with spoken word, but...”

Now you’re just confused.

The sea witch trails off and shakes her head, bringing herself back to the present. “Either way, they have no souls as the humans do, thus they cannot be named. Mortals have attempted to name them many times, but their simple, spoken words can only capture the physical aspect of them. No mortal can ever name a divine being.”

You have absolutely no idea what she’s saying at this point, so you merely nod in an impression of understanding.

“Thank you, Eldoris, for the body you have given me.”

The sea witch pauses and looks at you straight in the eye. Something about the way she’s does so makes you shiver uncomfortably.

“I wish you all the best.” Her eyes burn into yours with the intensity of a million suns. Swallowing uncomfortably, you let Hongjoong take you by the arm and the two of you walk back to the cave, hand in hand.

He squeezes your fingers and you look at him, his eyes gentle on yours.

“What are you going to do now?” He asks again, as if he needs to hear it from your lips once more. You smile at your captain, taking a deep breath as you imagine the faces of all of your crew who are waiting for you back on the ship.

“Let’s go home.”

And the two of you leave the beach behind, never looking back.

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