#and i don’t know how to stop being unlikeable and unloveable and just shut the fuck up for oncr becsusr i always a say too much

[friedroses]

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[holylulusworld]

Withering Rose

Summary: You come back to Knockemstiff to attend your cousin’s wedding.

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Exgirlfriend!Reader, Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of a breakup/heartbreak, threats, awful relatives (cousin/aunt), attempted cheating on Lee's side, mentions of foster care, fluff (not Lee)

A/N: I did not write canon for Lee (Timeline) in this one.

Knockemstiff. The last place you ever wanted to see again. Coming back here feels like pulling teeth without anesthetic. Seeing your cousin in her white wedding gown – even worse.

This was all you ever dreamed of around ten years ago. Before shit went down and the man you loved left you for some other girl. One with a better reputation and a daddy with pockets full of money.

Not some orphan, raised by her aunt and treated like trash. “Sweetie. Y/N,” your aunt coos, and you try to ignore it’s all just an act. 

After your eighteenth birthday, you aged out of state care, which meant that foster care adoption assistance ended too. Your aunt just waited for the money to stop and gave you the boot.

Now she acts as if nothing happened. Dear aunt is a great actress and fools anyone around you. You know better.

You heard through the grapevine that you only got an invitation, so no one asks questions about your whereabouts. As if anyone would care about you. They never did. You always were an outcast.  

A withering rose. Fading away in this shitty little town. No water and love keeping you alive. Lonely. Lost. Forgotten. Unwanted. Unloved.  

“Isn’t my Y/C/N a beautiful bride?” your aunt chirps. “I bet, if only you’d take better care of yourself you could find a nice man one day too.”

You huff at her words. Of course, she couldn’t shut her mouth and say her hellos. No. She has to rub salt into old wounds. The ones she and your cousin caused.

“Well, being the town's mattress paid off,” you retort. “And just you know, I got a well-paid job, a nice car, and unlike you and your daughter, I don’t need a man paying shit for me. It was a mistake coming here.”

You turn on your heels and storm off, leaving your aunt stunned and speechless behind. She opens and closes her mouth, gasping like a fish out of the water as you flee from the church and don’t look back.

“I was a fool to believe they changed,” you huff while walking back toward the hotel you are staying at. Not a hotel. It’s a shady motel. The only one in this shitty town.

“Y/N?” you frown as a car slows down and someone pokes his head out of the window. “Y/N YL/N? I knew it was you.”

“What? I-“ looking at the sheriff’s car you frown. “I didn’t do anything wrong, sheriff. Why are you following me?”

“Don’t you remember me, sweet rose?” he stops the car and unbuckles the seatbelt. You watch the sheriff climb out of his car. “It’s me…Lee.” 

“Lee Bodecker,” you choke his name out. “You became the sheriff, I see. I guess you got everything you ever wanted. A nice house, that sweet wife, and look at you, you’re the sheriff.”

“I heard you’re back in town,” Lee gives you that smile making your knees buckle. At least it used to affect you. Now he’s just another face you tried to forget. “How have you been, Y/N?”

“Good,” you don’t say the things you recited in your head so many times. It’s like now, that you stand face to face with Lee, your past just doesn’t matter any longer. “How have you been?”

“Life, you know but,” he looks you up and down. “Just look at you. An uptown girl now, huh? A pretty lady in an even nicer dress.”

You roll your eyes. “It was nice seeing you again,” you lie and turn to leave. “Greet your wife from me. I hope she’s doing fine too.”

“Uh—yeah. She’s good…we are good,” he scratches the back of his head. “I had hoped we could talk some more.”

Sighing deeply, you stop walking to look at Lee. “Listen, Lee, we don’t have to pretend, okay.”

“I only want to talk to you, Y/N. Back then I…we…” he stammers. 

“I was a foolish girl believing all the things you said meant shit to you too. I grew up the moment you broke up with me for some other girl,” you clear your throat. “You didn’t even care I had nowhere to go after my aunt kicked me out. I don’t want to talk about things I forgot about a long time ago. So, leave me alone, Bodecker.”

“I can drive you to the motel,” Lee offers. He points at his car, smiling widely. “Come on. Let’s remember the good old times.”

“I don’t want to remember the good old times,” you snap at Lee. “You were an asshole back then, and you didn’t change one bit. Do you honestly believe I want to be seen in town with a married man? I don’t think so.”

“Do you want to walk?” he grunts. “It’s going to rain. We don’t want your dress to get wet. Don’t be like that. Let me drive you.”

“I rather walk through mud, rain, and hail. Go and leave me alone. I knew coming here was a mistake,” you wave Lee off. “You’ve got a wife and kids to take care of.”

“Y/N, I can still drive you to your motel. Married or not.”

“Why?” you cock your head. “Why do you want to drive me back to my motel? What do you think will happen?”

“Anything you want to,” he gives you a loop-sided grin, hoping for you to cave in. Just like you always did. Back then. 

“I don’t want anything to happen between you and me,” walking away you realize you didn’t have to come here to know that the life you have back at home is so much better than the one you had here. 

“Wait—” Lee won’t give in. He gets back in his car and slowly drives next to you. “Get into the car. This is stupid. Stop being so stubborn.”

“I love being stupid and stubborn.”

You walk a little faster to get to your motel as fast as possible. Nothing is holding you here and you want to get back home. 

Lee is following you to your motel. He calls your name and tries to get you to talk to him some more. “Fuck, leave me alone.”

The moment the motel is in sight, you start to run to reach your room. A difficult task in heels but you manage to reach your room somehow.

Your hand trembles as you try to push the key into the lock.

“Whoa, cupcake,” you shriek as someone opens the door to your motel room before you can unlock the door. “I thought you are still at the wedding.”

“Lloyd?” you release a shuddery breath. “What are you doing here?”

“I tried to call,” he shrugs as you stare up at him. “I canceled the meeting and got here as fast as possible. Uh—I didn’t want to burst into the church. I planned on picking you up after the ceremony for the party and crap.”

“You’re here,” you throw yourself at your boyfriend and hide your face in his chest. He immediately wraps his arms around your body to offer comfort. 

“Now that’s what I call a warm welcome, baby,” he pecks your hair. “Who’s that?”

You totally forgot about Lee and that you stand outside your room. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Who is that bastard?” you whimper at Lloyd’s rough tone. He never uses it when you are around, but you heard him bark orders at people. 

“Lee Bodecker, the guy I told you about,” you mumble, not wanting to speak any louder. Lloyd knows everything about your past, and he didn’t care.

“Hmm…I see,” Lloyd whispers soft words in your ear, asking you to get inside the room and close the door behind you. “Give me five minutes.”

He kisses your temple and hugs you a little tighter. “I’ll be packing my things. I don’t want to stay here any longer.”

“I’ll be right there, cupcake.” 

He watches you walk inside the room, nodding as you look at him. “Please don’t get into trouble because of me.”

You close the door, sighing deeply as your boyfriend makes his way toward Lee.

 The sheriff watched you and your boyfriend from inside his car. He’s fuming as Lloyd walks toward his car.

“Do we have a problem here, sheriff,” Lloyd stands next to the driver’s side, poking his head into Lee’s car. “I got the feeling you were following my girlfriend, and I don’t like this one bit.”

“I offered to escort her,” Lee grunts. “This is a sleepy little town, but you never know when someone tries to attack a sweet girl. I wanted to keep her safe.”

Lloyd hums as he straightens his back. He runs two fingers over his mustache, pretending to think about Lee’s words.

“Problem is, it’s my job to keep my girl safe. You didn’t offer protection. All you did was scare my girl. I give you five minutes to get out of my sight.”

“Do you think I’m scared of you?” the sheriff growls. “I’m the sheriff of this town.”

“Yeah? I got that,” Lloyd smirks. “The car, your uniform, and the cheap haircut gave it away.”

“I’m warning you. Threatening a sheriff is a crime,” Lee warns. “You don’t want me to get out of this car.”

Lloyd grins. “You see, I’m not a man of many words. I rather use my influence to get rid of people making my girl feel bad. You don’t want me to call a few people and make sure you’ll lose more than your lousy job.”

“I-“ Lee considers Lloyd’s warning. Is it worth it to ruin his life only to get his hands on you? “I only wanted to give her a ride.” He starts the engine, watching Lloyd retreat.

“Good choice, sunshine,” your boyfriend mumbles under his breath as Lee drives off. “We see each other again. One way or another…”

“You sure you don’t want me to break his neck,” Lloyd softly asks as you snuggle into his chest. “Cupcake?”

“I’m good, Lloyd,” you sigh against him. “I only want to forget about him, my aunt, and my past. We have a life together. Here and now.

“Here and now, Y/N,” he assures you but plans on visiting your ex one day. Maybe not today, but soon…

Tags in reblog.

[taechaos]

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from Textbook Love drabbles

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble(?), smut, college au

synopsis: “She’s too sweet,” Taehyung begins, “too kind, too nice, everything you’re not. You wouldn’t be trying to keep me away from her if you didn’t know that. Are you afraid she’ll like me better?”

warnings: slight angst, arguing, dubcon, mild violence

word count: 4.7k

a/n: ima need yall to submit jk gifs cuz it is taking me TOO long to find a good one 👺 not proofread.

The weekend is fun: students’ two days of temporary rest and catching up on their assignments. Jungkook doesn’t concern himself with the latter, but he does enjoy waking up later in the day and lying down on the grass with his arms crossed under his head, bathing in the sun without any worries. It’s peaceful, thinking thoughts of you with dimmed eyes while the breeze gently wafts past him.

But of course, Taehyung wouldn’t let him just enjoy his day without a hint of irritation. Good things never last anyway. He’s sitting in the middle of the field, a hot spot for relaxation, and feels the soil under his palms while observing his surroundings. Yoongi is with them, munching on a few snacks while scrolling through his phone as it quietly plays music.

“The girl at the party,” Taehyung begins before glancing at Jungkook through his sunglasses, “she was alone when I came back. You weren’t around either; did you cum too soon or something? I saw you two kiss.”

“I left,” Jungkook mumbles without opening his eyes.

“Why?”

“I was bored.”

“And where did you go?” he pries.

“None of your business.”

Taehyung scoffs at his dismissal before averting his gaze elsewhere. “I do have a guess.”

“Don’t start,” Yoongi warns him without looking up. The two best friends usually get into arguments in a matter of seconds daily, and Yoongi just wants to spend his day without having to break up a fight. Just this once, he hopes… but hope doesn’t save him.

“I’m just wondering if you actually went all the way back to campus to fuck another girl, who coincidentally also does your homework.” His tone is cool and collected, but it borders on mocking that usually goes unnoticed. He’s been around these two too long for them to miss, however. Yoongi sighs, dreading the response already.

Jungkook sits up on his elbows with a glare directed towards Taehyung. “How’s your ex holding up, Tae? You think she cheated on another guy yet?”

Neither of the two friends have a filter around them, no consideration for their words as they apathetically insult one another; but Jungkook can go too far, especially by bringing up old wounds. 

Taehyung was in a toxic relationship with his first girlfriend of two years, which took a huge toll on his mindset. Constant infidelity, endless forgiving, make up sex and catching her with another man after: a cycle that went on for over 24 months. The concept of love became tainted in his eyes, no longer interacting with the opposite gender if not to get laid, and Jungkook’s commensalistic - rather parasitic - relationship doesn’t disprove his hateful ideology. Love only consists of two people: a host who provides, and the parasite that selfishly takes it all. 

But he isn’t over the pain that lasted a year after the break up, which was shamelessly executed by the parasite: his former girlfriend. It took a lot of trust to open up about it to his friends, and it lifted a heavy weight off of his chest. Only this year did he stop thinking about her, until Jungkook asked about her so casually. It stings his heart only for a second, and he scoffs as Yoongi intervenes, “Both of you need to shut the fuck up.”

“If you guys want to talk about my relationships, then don’t get all whiny when I talk about yours.”

Taehyung swallows his pride and confidently answers, “I don’t know, Jungkook. I hear she’s doing well, but no information on her boyfriends. Your turn: what’s going on with that nerd?”

“Elaborate.”

“Are you two dating?” Yoongi asks exhaustedly. They just keep taking every opportunity to annoy each other, and it’s even overwhelming him at this point. 

Rolling his neck side to side in thought, Jungkook takes a moment to answer, “No.”

“Bullshit,” Taehyung spits. “You know what? Let’s just move on. I’m sure I could get proper answers from someone else.”

“If you have a death wish, that is,” he warns with a slight seethe before lying back down.

He doesn’t respond and hides a smirk, a couple having a romantic picnic ahead of him from a distance. He watches them for a few seconds before muttering to himself, “It’s not going to be my death.”

Yoongi and Jungkook chill on their own after Taehyung leaves. He’s roaming the campus in hopes of finding that one girl who is always wearing some school skirt and working 24/7 to find out what is so special about her. Jungkook might think he doesn’t notice them interacting, but behind that airhead facade, he’s observant. It’s not that big of a fucking secret either, they’re not deliberately hiding their strangely beneficial friendship or whatever. You stick out like a sore thumb in the yard, though there’s not many people to tell you apart from anyway.

He approaches you rather slowly, inspecting your figure first before meeting you. Your posture is straight and composed, fingers quickly typing away on your keyboard without even looking at them. You look so serious to him, a contrast to the radiant butterflies flying past you in such a bright environment. He wonders if you ever procrastinate or take breaks, and most importantly, how someone that appears so smart has fallen into such an obvious trap set by his best friend of all people. 

His hands are in his pockets as he speaks his first words to you. “Hi, I’m Taehyung.”

Your reaction is instant: a quick look at him and you’re already frowning. “I’m Jungkook’s best friend,” he adds in case you’ve seen him around before. 

“I don’t know you.” And with that distant reply, you return to your essay. If meeting Jimin has taught you anything, it’s that you can’t trust anyone who claims to know your lover. They are just using it against you… 

“Well, shit,” he laughs, “I didn’t realize you were so cold.” Your eyes don’t waver from your screen, so he tries another approach: “Are you the girl Jungkook left the party a few days back for?”

Your ears perk up in his direction, but you don’t show it. But he notices the pause in your taps before you continue typing, and he holds that against you. He takes a seat across from you, and your laptop covers your face from him. “I just wanted to meet the person that’s got him whipped enough to get high and run off to them.” You bite down on a smile and prolong your silence. “I guess I’ll talk to you when you’re not busy.” 

He stands up just as you tell him, “Wait, no, I’m not busy.” You close your laptop mid-way before hesitating, but slam it shut nonetheless. “Sorry.”

“You’re good.” He sits back down and clasps his hands on the table. “So what’s going on between you and him? He refuses to tell me, as if you’re his little secret.”

You shyly look down at your flats and twiddle your fingers on your lap. “We’re together… but he is very mysterious.”

It’s a good thing you don’t glance at him to hide your blush, because he’s a little skeptical. He puckers his lips and furrows his brows but controls his expression when you look up. He mentally curses for taking longer than a few seconds to respond; it’s suspicious. “I know right? I don’t know why he’s so reluctant to talk about you. You’re a total sweetheart.”

Approval from Jungkook’s friend: check. Will he like you more if you get along with his friends? The thought excites you, because at least this is someone he likes, unlike Jimin. “Thank you,” you shy a smile. “Um…”

You’re awkward: not Jungkook’s type, Taehyung notes. You’re obviously the host... “So is this a fling, or are you two serious?”

“We’re serious!” you immediately answer. “I love him, and he recently told me he loves me too. He used to kiss me for doing his homework, but now he does it out of nowhere.”

Wow… romantic. He suppresses a chuckle because he doesn’t want to laugh in your face, not when you’re so cute when you talk about him. Your eyes light up with a gleam, a lovesick smile gracing your face and now desperate to befriend him. You look like him when he was supposedly in love. You’re serious about Jungkook, but for how long? Especially when the other side of the relationship is not so committed. It should be mutual: with two hosts.

“Yeah?” he acts interested and raises his sunglasses up to his hair. “How does he act around you?”

“Well,” you start gushing, “he is a little closed off with his emotions.” True. “He doesn’t like me talking to other guys.” Ooh, interesting. “He can’t stand being ignored,” you chuckle. Can he now? “And… he is so cute when he’s jealous. He has this glare whenever I don’t give him enough attention, but he would never admit it. He likes being intimate with me, likes it when I reassure him. He never says it out loud though, I can just tell by looking at him. I’ve never felt this way for anyone, never fell in love with someone until I met Jungkook. I just want to make him happy because he used to look so sad when I watched him from afar.” A hopeless romantic.

Maybe if you didn’t sound so genuine and innocent, he would’ve made fun of you. But he just feels pity for someone who is so giving to someone who gives back so little. You don’t deserve it; don’t deserve to stay up working on so many assignments; don’t deserve to not have any hobbies; don’t deserve to be so unloved. You are pathetic, but it doesn’t turn him off.

Taehyung is a host too.

He clears his throat at the unexpected stirring emotions in his heart, “What do you love about him? Do you like being treated like shit or something?”

“He doesn’t treat me badly! He is like a light switch, you know? He doesn’t know how to act, sometimes sweet and sometimes… a little mean. I love him for his pure heart, and I believe that we are similar in a lot of ways.”

Taehyung can’t contain his snort. Similar? You are opposites. You are similar to him, not Jungkook. He feels… jealous. The pairing is just so ridiculous and flawed, but you’re neither of the two; you are just good. Taehyung can be good too. “So, what’s your Instagram user?”

The lack of commentary and escalation of the topic catches you off guard. It’s a distraction. “I don’t have an account,” you reply in confusion.

“Wow, I’d expect you to cyberstalk Jungkook on there,” he jokes with a laugh.

“He has an Instagram?”

He purses his lips, his grin faltering as he nods. He takes out his phone from his pocket to show you the account, and holds it in your face. Your lips part as you gently take it from him, curiously inspecting the collage of images. 

“He plays the guitar?” you ask in awe. You click on each picture to zoom in on them, and your heart jumps upon seeing his selfies while Taehyung hums. He is gorgeous in your eyes, and you want to keep up with his posts in hopes of seeing another selfie. These are hidden gems that Taehyung had the courtesy of providing to you.

“He’s learning,” Taehyung says, “you should sign up and post some pictures as well. You’re really cute.” His cheeky compliment makes you happy; he is basically giving you his blessing! 

“Thank you, and you’re right,” you chirp, “I will make an account after I finish this essay. Want to take a picture with me?”

It’s safe to assume that Jungkook wouldn’t mind you talking to his best friend, so why not expand your social circle? You’ll be more involved with his life this way. Taehyung stammers slightly before agreeing. He switches benches to sit next to you while you rummage through your backpack to find your phone. He finds it strangely endearing how you hold it, using your index finger to swipe between apps to find the camera. It almost stings his heart that you’re so old-schooled in a cute way. Once you angle it above you with your arm stretched out to your left, Taehyung appears to be behind you as he lowers his glasses. You smile brightly into the lens while he cutely puckers his lips. 

Click.

“Are you wearing perfume?” he asks before he can stop himself. Your scent tickles his nostrils sweetly, and he doesn’t know why he’s noticing so much about you or holding a conversation with a woman without being naked. It’s been a hot minute since Taehyung’s had such a platonic interaction, and it shouldn’t feel this nice. He shouldn’t want to continue it through social media either.

“Yes! Do you smell strawberries? I noticed Jungkook eating them before, so I use just about anything strawberry scented. Lotion, shampoo, shower gel…”

He tunes you out as you gush and focuses on the smooth movement of your lips. You’re too good, and Taehyung knows he isn’t the best person but at least he’s not as bad as Jungkook. I shouldn’t think like this… but am I wrong? He will break your heart. What if it’s the right time to intervene to save you from that misery, and be a friend to both of you? He doesn’t want you to fall apart and be completely crushed right in front of his eyes, not when he just witnessed how childishly happy and naive you are. It wouldn’t be fair to you, nor to the life lesson he was taught years ago.

And he then notices that you're wearing strawberry lip balm. 

“Jungkook kis-” -sed someone else before coming to you. You hum and tilt your head at his interruption, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “Jungkook… does love strawberries.”

Though your work ethics are questionable for how exhausting they are, it gets the job done sooner. The moment you’re assigned a task, you do it, regardless of if it’s yours or Jungkook's. Saturday evening and Sunday are free for you, so you spend your time outside after leaving your backpack in your dorm. You think you look silly, taking pictures of anything you find interesting to post on Instagram. You made an account, but it appears like a bot with its empty feed. Jungkook enjoys doing this, so you want to try it as well. 

You don’t stray far from campus because you’d easily get lost, and your gallery looks boring to you. The only decent photo you have is with Taehyung, but you want to post a picture with Jungkook before anyone else. You grumble under your breath while walking back to the dormitory building. You look through Jungkook’s posts again as you do so with a smile. 

A heavy arm slings over your shoulder and hitches your breath just as the culprit says, “What’s the rush?” He doesn’t even look at you, and you wonder if he recognized you from your clothes after coming up from behind you. 

“Jungkookie!” you cheer excitedly. He glances at you and quirks a brow at the nickname. His eyes then trail to your lit up phone and snatches it from you, which you don’t fight against.

“You’re stalking me?” He scrolls through his profile from your phone and smirks before stating, “I didn’t know you had an Insta.” The both of you enter the building with his arm still wrapped around you, which flutters your heart.

“I made one today, since you use it.” He exits his profile to look at yours. You’re in the elevator as you inform, “Taehyung told me.”

A pause, then a click. Jungkook snapped a photo of you when you pressed the button of your floor. “Pretty,” he comments while looking at your candid shot. You’re flattered and also happy that he’s joining your trip to your dorm. He hasn’t said a word of protest and takes the lead in going to your room. “What else?”

“Hm?”

“What else did he tell you?”

You rack your brain to remember anything significant to tell him. It was a long conversation: getting to know each other and more about Jungkook. “He told me you have an Instagram, then asked for my perfume, and then we talked about your love for strawberries-”

“Your perfume? Why was Instagram even brought up?” he presses, stopping in front of your door. 

You take out your keycard and shrug while swiping, “He asked for mine.”

The dorm is empty when you enter and sit on the edge of your bed. It’s very hard to not grin when you’re around Jungkook, but he doesn’t seem to care as he looks through your gallery. “Can we take a picture together?” you peep hopefully. 

“Of course,” he murmurs absentmindedly, intently staring at your phone. “We’ll take many pictures,” he looks up at you before leveling with the camera, “pose.”

You aren’t very educated on the art of posing per se, so you imitate the peace sign you saw him do with a wide smile and a hand on the bed. He is neutral when he snaps a picture with a shutter. 

“I want you to be in it.”

He drags his eyes away from the screen and his blank expression intimidates you. “Whose idea was it for you to make an account?”

“Um… Taehyung, why?” You lay your hands on your lap at the growing tension.

Taehyung went to this extent to get a reaction out of him? Is it possible that he’s this obnoxious? Or perhaps another motive…?

“I-Is he not your friend?”

Jungkook breaks his silence of thoughts with a scoff, “Oh, only the best.” You sigh in relief, though he says it with menace. Taehyung was curious about his relationship, not about your social media. He forcefully pushes you down on the bed and you hold back a gasp as he wraps his finger around your neck in a light chokehold with a thumb on your nether lip. Click. He then lowers his hand to your thigh, hiding half of it under your skirt with a gentle grap. Click.

Your cheeks flush at the compromising photos he’s taking and you nervously ask, “A-Am I going to post these?”

“Shut up.”

You seal your lips shut and he flips you on your stomach, palming your covered ass with your side profile in the frame, and another shutter resounds in the room. “Sit up.” You follow his command and turn around to face him. He pushes your hair to your back and his mouth latches onto your neck. He’s biting you while sucking on your flesh, and you release a breathy moan at the feeling of his tongue swirling on the sensitive skin. It hurts, but you don’t complain and try to make sense of the growing arousal in your lower region. He only pulls away after half a minute and you’re confused by the satisfied smirk on his face while eyeing the result. He angles your jaw to expose your neck better and snaps another photo. “These are all going on your account.”

At your nod of submission, he starts unbuttoning your shirt. “You’re prettier with a mark. My mark.” Your body tingles at the compliment and you help him undress yourself by unbuttoning the ends. “Take off your skirt,” he demands as he slips off his shirt with ease. All of your clothes go off one by one as he does the same, and you don’t have the time to feel shy as his lips collide so roughly with yours that you’re pressed down against the mattress again. You still haven’t gotten the hang of making out, but it doesn’t matter with Jungkook because although it flows naturally, he also takes complete control over you. He’s not gentle, not with the way his teeth clash against yours and tongue leaving trails of saliva all over your mouth. Your toes curl with desire and anticipation, and you tug at his briefs that outline his erection. The feeling of his warm breath on you silences all your thoughts and you can only react on primal instincts. 

His crotch brushes against your bare folds, slick with your leaking wetness. Kissing him this passionately always leaves you feeling needy, and it embarrasses you that you get turned on so easily. But you don’t realize that is his intention as he glides his fingers all over your labia, making sure you’re ready to take all of him. 

Kissing you this passionately always leaves him feeling horny, and it’s apparent with his cock begging to be taken out of the restraints of his underwear. You don’t know how long you’ve been kissing, but your lips are numb when he pulls away to position himself in your entrance. He doesn’t prepare you, but he doesn’t rush himself either as he painfully slowly enters you. You hold your breath and gawn on your swollen lip, moans catching in your throat and leaving as high-pitched hums. He sighs at the feeling of your pulsating walls. “God… always so tight. Don’t you ever touch yourself?”

He bottoms out and you whimper shakily at how full you are. The fact that he fits you like a puzzle piece convinces you that he’s your forever, your meant to be. Even with your lack of experience with other men, you believe no one can make you feel this dreamy. And to think he’s all yours now… “I-I don’t. I only want to do it with you.”

The atmosphere is so fragile, so romantic. It’s not your delusion this time, because he feels it too and it makes his heartbeat sync with yours: unsteady and rapid. And in the heat of the moment, he reveals, “I think I’m in love with you.”

A whine leaves you, so loud that it can’t be achieved with touch but with his words. It’s the utmost pleasure, and when he realizes what he said, he sets a rushed pace to distract himself from the embarrassment of pouring his feelings. You don’t allow him to forget as you echo, “I’m in love with you too.”

“No, no,” he denies with a shake of his head and it emits more love confessions out of you in a chain of ‘I love you’s, and he grunts, “Stop. Shut up!” He pins your forearms on either side of your head in a bruisening grip and thrusts into you harder. You have no choice but to scream in pleasure, unable to form coherent words when he’s practically fucking your brains out. 

His feelings of humiliation translate to his actions: he pushes himself down to the hilt, throbbing with lust but doesn’t chase his high. He doesn’t want you to talk, not when he’s blushing for more than one reason, so he ignores the contraction of his muscles and just fucks you until he can’t anymore, hypnotized by the bounce of your tits.

Maybe it’s a good thing that he’s so desperate, hitting your most sensitive spot with every thrust and making your eyes screw back. Neither of you can think, so loud and reckless until you reach your climax. It’s core shaking, as you cry out his name and tremble with stimulation. He’s never seen this expression on your face, one so twisted in pleasure and looking so erotic. It comes as a surprise and in the form of a punch in the gut as he savours your appearance before cumming inside you with a groan. A slip-up, a mistake, but he doesn’t care as he paints your walls in white, his load filling you up.

And he can’t regret it when he pulls out, because the drizzle of his cum spilling out of your pussy easily becomes his favorite sight. “Shit,” he whispers as more and more drips while you twitch and spasm from your orgasm. You don’t even realize what he’s done, and that makes his chest swell with pride; the most level-headed woman he knows is leaking with his release and stupidly doesn’t spare it a thought. And with that hickey on your neck? “You look fucking gorgeous,” he exhales. A bashful smile stretches across your face with eyes still tightly shut, and you don’t notice him grab your phone on the other side of the bed to take a picture of your stained pussy. 

“This one is for me,” he mutters to himself. Click.

After posting the softcore photos on your account and tagging himself in them, as well as a note of a pharmacy’s address across campus with a label written for you to get two separate contraceptives as an emergency and for your next creampie, he leaves your dorm. You fell asleep on him, and though he had wanted to join you, he decided to collect his scrambled thoughts and go to Taehyung’s dorm first. He isn’t livid, but he has a few questions to ask.

He’s playing cards with Yoongi, Taehyung’s roommate, as he patiently waits for his arrival. “What’s wrong about asking for her Instagram, though?” Yoongi asks before drawing out a card of ace. “Isn’t she our friend by association anyway?”

“It’s suspicious,” Jungkook murmurs while inspecting his deck. “Have you ever seen Taehyung with a girl before? As friends? He’s clearly trying to fuck her.”

Yoongi stifles a laugh, “That’s a reach. Besides, you two have shared a girl before. Are you actually dating her?”

Shuffling is heard behind the door until it swings open as Taehyung enters. “Kookie! What are you doing here?” He throws his keycard on his bed before hopping on Yoongi’s to watch their game.

It’s strained, Jungkook notices. His excitement is forced; why? “I came here for you,” he states bluntly. “A little birdie told me you’ve been talking to someone who belongs to me.”

“I didn’t realize she was your diary,” he tries to lighten the mood with a joke. “What’s the deal anyway? You said you weren’t dating her.”

Yoongi collects the deck of cards after Jungkook drops them, and shuffles them while eavesdropping. He’s sitting cross-legged across from Jungkook, and Taehyung is sitting on the edge of the bed next to him with his body turned sideways.

“I also said that unless you have a death wish, don’t talk to her,” he grits. “And asking for her social media? Are you into her now?”

Taehyung merely shrugs. “I thought she was pretty chill. I don’t know why you’re so mad.”

“She obviously means something to him, so I think you should just respect that, Taehyung,” Yoongi voices his thoughts while leafing the cards. Jungkook looks to the side and pokes the inner cheek of his mouth with his tongue but doesn’t argue.

“I think he’s just using her.” Jungkook’s reaction is instant as Taehyung’s nose instantly starts to bleed from the impact of his fist. Yoongi doesn’t look up. He holds a hand over his injury with a hiss and continues, “Really, Kook? A little too much, don’t you think?”

“Less than enough,” Jungkook fumes, “I like her, and she likes me. Just fucking leave it at that.”

“Couple of the year,” Taehyung chuckles mockingly, “I give it two days.” He stands up before Jungkook can hit him again. “Can’t wait to console her after your break-up, maybe she’ll fall in love with me next.”

Jungkook starts chasing him around the room as Taehyung runs without stopping his provocation. “Why so upset Jungkook? Do you see it happening too? I’m already imagining how tight-”

“You should leave, Jungkook.” Neither of them listen to Yoongi, so he yells, “Jungkook, leave!”

A moment of deafening silence passes as both of them pause to catch their breaths. “She’s too sweet,” Taehyung begins, “too kind, too nice, everything you’re not. You wouldn’t be trying to keep me away from her if you didn’t know that. Are you afraid she’ll like me better?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Jungkook spits with a heaving chest. “She’s loyal to me, but I’m sure you’re not familiar with that concept. No wonder your relationships only last one night.” With a final glare, he leaves as told to return to you. The only thing he needs right now is one more ‘I love you’ from you, as much as he hates it. Maybe he’s cruel, but he doesn’t know anyone who isn’t aside from you. 

Maybe Taehyung is just as cruel, fantasizing about all the ways he could be better for you before drifting off to sleep with a bandage over his wounded nose. He can just be a friend to both of you… he can be good too… 

[bloody-bee-tea]

A story in three parts

Middle

This is a crime family/mafia au so expect some violence. The Mingxicheng in this part is established.

When Jiang Cheng comes to, he groans in pain. His head is throbbing, there’s a bad taste in his mouth and his arms feel as though they are dead.

Jiang Cheng blinks his eyes open fully, hating how the world tilts for the first few blinks and when he finally sees his surroundings, his stomach drops in fear.

He’s in a warehouse, tied to a chair and Xue Yang is grinning maniacally in his face.

“The little princess finally came to,” he says, his voice full of glee, and Jiang Cheng tries his best to get away from him, but he’s tied to a chair—that’s what’s killing the feeling in his arms, too—and there is nowhere for him to get away to.

“What do you want?” Jiang Cheng presses out, aware that his voice is shaking and he hates himself for how weak he is, for how easily he is to scare.

“Ah, straight to business, I see,” Xue Yang says, and he sounds disappointed. “I hoped to play some more.”

“Don’t be stupid,” someone else suddenly says from behind Jiang Cheng and he tenses in fear of what that person is going to do, but then Su She steps around him and Jiang Cheng relaxes slightly.

Between those two, it’s definitely Xue Yang he needs to be more afraid of, Jiang Cheng knows that well, and so he barely keeps an eye on Su She.

Which is a mistake, Jiang Cheng realizes with ringing ears, when Su She punches him square in the face.

“You’re probably wondering what we want from you,” Su She says, sweet as anything, once Jiang Cheng managed to right himself again.

“I’m not, actually,” Jiang Cheng bites out, trying to get past his fear, spitting out the blood that’s gathering in his mouth and Xue Yang laughs straight in his face.

“Oh, that sure sounded differently just a few moments ago,” Xue Yang says and then gets out a knife.

Jiang Cheng tenses in fear, a cold shudder running down his back, but when Xue Yang walks up to him, he tries to squirm away. He’s getting nowhere of course, not with how tightly the rope cuts into his arms and when Xue Yang puts the knife to his cheek Jiang Cheng freezes.

“Listen here, little princess,” Xue Yang whispers and he puts more pressure behind the knife.

Jiang Cheng is sure that by now he must be bleeding, even though he can’t actually feel the pain through his panic.

“Don’t call me that,” Jiang Cheng still hisses out, because he has to be contrary no matter what, but it only seems to delight Xue Yang that much more.

“Aw, the little princess has some bite,” he mocks him and then swiftly moves the knife from his cheek to his neck. “But if the little princess isn’t careful, my hand might just slip,” he says, punctuating the last words with increasing pressure on his neck.

“Don’t kill him yet,” Su She suddenly speaks up but Xue Yang still hesitates for long moments before he moves away.

“It doesn’t matter if he’s alive or not as long as his parents come for him,” Xue Yang says with a shrug and now Jiang Cheng begins to shake for real.

His parents are not going to come for him, that much he knows, and as soon as Xue Yang and Su She realize that, he’s dead.

His father will probably not even notice that Jiang Cheng is missing, even if someone should demand a ransom, and his mother will only see this as a training opportunity.

Jiang Cheng knows that he’s too weak, too soft for the family business—always has been—and his mother will certainly think that this is what he deserves if he can’t even manage to get himself out of this situation.

But Jiang Cheng doesn’t enjoy being the heir to an underground organization; doesn’t want to spend his days training and fighting and killing when all he really wants to do is become a veterinarian but he realizes now that his stubborn wish is probably going to cost him his life now.

Wei Wuxian might come to his rescue—he delights in fighting and is good at it, too—but Madam Yu sent him out on business. By the time Wei Wuxian will return to the country, Jiang Cheng will be just another body, dropped into the harbour.

“You’re wasting your time,” Jiang Cheng spits out, despite the cold grip of fear around his heart, and gets another fist to his face for his trouble, but that side of his face is already numb, so it’s not like he feels it much.

“And why is that, little princess?” Xue Yang drawls out, moving the knife against Jiang Cheng’s neck once again. “Are you so unlovable that no one will come for you?” he asks with a lunatic smile and while the thought cuts Jiang Cheng deeper than any knife could, he nods.

“Yes,” he says, once he thinks his voice will hold and he relishes the way both Xue Yang and Su She freeze. “If you think my mother will come for me, you’re mistaken,” Jiang Cheng goes on, forces out between clenched teeth. “She’ll probably thank you for getting rid of some useless baggage when you deliver my body to her.”

“As if she would thank us for killing the heir,” Su She says with a frown, but Jiang Cheng can tell that he’s already doubting his actions.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Jiang Cheng says with a laugh. “But my father made Wei Wuxian the heir,” he tells them, trying not to let it hurt him yet again, but of course it’s always useless.

He knows his parents think very lowly of him for wanting a more normal life, a life that doesn’t involve constant killing and fights and territory disputes and it should have stopped hurting long ago, but of course that’s not how that works.

He’s useless and unloved and Jiang Cheng knows it well.

Not completely, a tiny voice in Jiang Cheng whispers and he tries his damn hardest to push that thought away.

It’s even more unlikely that Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue are going to come after him and Jiang Cheng knows it.

Lan Xichen left the trade a long while ago—preferring to be a teacher instead of taking over as the head of the family—and Nie Mingjue is not going to risk war with the Jin’s when he’s already in a constant fight with the Wens.

“You can tell Meng Yao that you fucked up big time by getting me,” Jiang Cheng spits out, pushing every thought of Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue away, and instead he thoroughly enjoys how wide Su She’s eyes get.

“You—” he starts but Jiang Cheng only laughs in his face, uncaring of the knife on his neck.

He’s going to die here anyway; a clean cut on his throat would probably be less painful than whatever Xue Yang has planned for him.

“You think I haven’t seen you run after Meng Yao like a lovesick puppy? Who else could be behind this, it’s not like either of you ever had an original thought in your lives,” Jiang Cheng snaps out and it’s only because he knows that he’s going to die here that he dares to be this brave.

“His name is Jin Guangyao,” Su She hisses and Jiang Cheng laughs in his face.

“Just because Jin Guangshan decided to give him a pity name doesn’t mean I have to use it,” Jiang Cheng hisses and then his vision goes dark when Su She hits him yet again.

“Shut up,” Su She yells and Jiang Cheng laughs because it’s so easy, so goddamn easy to rile him up.

“Calm down,” Xue Yang says and that makes Jiang Cheng laugh again, because Xue Yang has made quite the name in their circles for a number of things and being calm is not one of his defining features.

“You said we need him alive,” Xue Yang reminds Su She and when he eyes Jiang Cheng, his blood runs cold.

That’s a mad scientist looking at his next test subject and Jiang Cheng really wishes he would have managed that cut before.

“Maybe we don’t,” Su She spits out and then kicks Jiang Cheng right in the stomach with enough force that the chair topples over.

There’s no sound of breaking bone which is the only reason that Jiang Cheng knows he didn’t break anything, since he can’t feel his arms anymore, but his head hit the concrete rather forcefully and his vision goes yet again dark and spotty.

Xue Yang pulls him back up by his hair and Jiang Cheng clenches his teeth against the painful sound that’s trying to escape his lips. He might be the weakest Jiang that ever has been, but he’s not going to give them the satisfaction of screaming.

Not yet.

If Xue Yang gets to do with him as he pleases Jiang Cheng is under no illusions that he’s going to break rather sooner than later, but not yet.

“Any signs of that bitch yet?” Su She suddenly yells into the warehouse and it’s only then that Jiang Cheng realizes that they are not as alone as he thought.

Su She and Xue Yang definitely came prepared because there are about fifteen to twenty henchmen hanging around in the warehouse and if Madam Yu were to come, Jiang Cheng would worry.

Even is mother is just one person after all. But since she absolutely will not come to save Jiang Cheng from this dilemma he just finds the massive presence of henchmen amusing.

All these people called here to see one pathetic little person die. Jiang Cheng wonders how many of them will think this a waste of their time and how many of them will dare to say that directly to Su She’s face.

“Nothing is happening,” one of the henchmen replies and Su She klicks his tongue in apparent displeasure.

“Where the hell is she?”

“I told you, she’s not going to come. You went after the wrong one. Should have gotten Wei Wuxian if you wanted my mother to show up,” Jiang Cheng tells them and gets another cut to his cheek for that.

“You shouldn’t be speaking so much,” Xue Yang says as he leans down. “Maybe I should take your tongue, how would the little princess like that?” he asks and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes because he doesn’t think it really warrants an answer.

When Xue Yang cuts his other cheek Jiang Cheng figures Xue Yang didn’t like that answer much.

“So you think no one is coming for you, huh?” Xue Yang asks him, staring at his knife as he turns it around and around. “Why aren’t you begging for your life, little princess?”

“What use is there to beg a madman?” Jiang Cheng snaps back and Xue Yang still for a moment before a dangerous glint enters his eyes.

Maybe Jiang Cheng should have just held his tongue for once in his life, he thinks, right before Xue Yang drags the knife down Jiang Cheng’s front, putting just enough pressure on it to cut open his shirt.

“Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you, little princess,” Xue Yang drawls out and Jiang Cheng can tell that he wants to get started with that right away, but suddenly there’s a sword pressed to the underside of his chin.

Xue Yang freezes and slightly backs away when the sword makes him, and Jiang Cheng cranes his neck around to see what is going on.

He did not expect to see Lan Xichen behind him.

“Xichen?” Jiang Cheng whispers and it’s only then that Lan Xichen tears his eyes away from Xue Yang and looks down at Jiang Cheng.

“We’re here, my heart,” Lan Xichen says and does something with his other hand that loosens the robe bound around Jiang Cheng.

Lan Xichen leans down to press a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s forehead and it’s only then that he seems to notice the blood on his cheeks.

“You’re bleeding,” Lan Xichen says, and his voice is hard and Jiang Cheng has never seen him look so cold. “Someone made you bleed,” he goes on and his glare turns towards Xue Yang, who has the good thought to back away a few more steps.

“Xichen, it’s not so bad,” Jiang Cheng tries, because he knows that Lan Xichen left this life for a reason, that he never wanted to kill again and Jiang Cheng isn’t sure if he can stand it if Lan Xichen breaks that promise to himself for Jiang Cheng.

“That’s Zewu-Jun,” one of the henchmen whispers and immediately panic breaks out where before everyone was frozen in surprise.

“Kill him!” someone yells, but before anyone can pull their gun, Lan Xichen is already moving, Shuoyue steady in his hand.

Jiang Cheng stumbles up, not entirely sure what he’s going to do or how he’s going to stop Lan Xichen, but he just knows that he has to try. But before he can decide on anything, two arms encircle him from behind and pull him towards a chest.

Jiang Cheng stiffens, before he recognizes the embrace and he fully leans into the body behind him.

“Mingjue,” he whispers and is rewarded with another kiss to his temple.

“It’s okay now, my heart,” Nie Mingjue whispers and tightens his grip on Jiang Cheng. “We got you know.”

“Mingjue, shouldn’t we—Xichen—he—” Jiang Cheng tries to say, but Nie Mingjue only hums, turning his gaze towards Lan Xichen.

It almost looks like he’s dancing from one henchmen to another, but whenever he leaves no one is left standing, Shuoyue nothing more but a silver flash in his hand.

“He’s magnificent, our light, isn’t he?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng has to admit that Nie Mingjue is right.

It almost looks like art, the way Lan Xichen is moving, the way his hair is flowing behind him and Jiang Cheng could watch him for hours.

Except that Lan Xichen never wanted to kill again and he walked away from the family business for good.

“He shouldn’t do this, he doesn’t want this,” Jiang Cheng whispers, and he’s ashamed to find that his voice is shaking with how relieved he is that at least someone came for him.

“He wants to,” Nie Mingjue says and kisses Jiang Cheng’s cheek, mindful of the cut there. “For you, he’d lead his family into war if it would protect you,” Nie Mingjue lowly tells him and Jiang Cheng shudders with his words.

“And you?” he dares to ask, slightly turning around in Nie Mingjue’s arms. “What would you do?” he wants to know and Nie Mingjue gives him a wicked smile.

“I would let Huaisang burn the world for you,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng has to close his eyes against the tears that are threatening to spill over at that.

They all know that Wen Ruohan is only still alive because Nie Mingjue hopes to kill him personally; Nie Huaisang has at least a dozen plans that would kill him instantly if not anonymously and the only reason that hasn’t happened yet is because Nie Mingjue is telling him not to.

If Nie Mingjue would just unleash Nie Huaisang onto the world, letting him do what he wants, however he sees fit, it would be pure chaos. Some days Jiang Cheng suspects it’s only Nie Mingjue’s strong sense of right and wrong that stops Nie Huaisang.

If that should fall away—if Nie Mingjue should give him his blessing—Jiang Cheng can barely contemplate it.

“I thought no one was coming,” Jiang Cheng admits, shaking with how weak that makes him, but Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen know about his family life, about his insecurities.

Jiang Cheng thinks that maybe he can tell them this much as well.

“They wanted to kill you,” Nie Mingjue says and his voice is dark.

“And I thought they would,” Jiang Cheng whispers and Nie Mingjue turns him completely around and crushes him to his chest.

“Never,” he promises. “We would never let that happen to you. We will always come for you,” Nie Mingjue promises him and Jiang Cheng lifts his hand to grip his shirt.

“Does he need help?” Jiang Cheng asks when he thinks that his voice is steady, and he startles only slightly when a third hand lightly touches his back.

“No, I don’t,” Lan Xichen easily says and then tugs Jiang Cheng out of Nie Mingjue’s arms to take a good look at him.

Lan Xichen is covered in blood, but he seemingly doesn’t care about that at all, because his gaze is entirely fixed on Jiang Cheng. There’s still a cold glint to it that makes Jiang Cheng shudder.

“Where are you hurt?” he demands to know and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“Some punches to the face, one kick to my stomach, the cuts you see,” he sums up, and he knows that he came away pretty easily from this.

Xue Yang’s face promised him so much more pain than those simple injuries.

“I should have made it hurt more,” Lan Xichen lowly says and Jiang Cheng can feel an incredulous laugh bubble up in his throat when a painfilled groan reaches his ear.

It seems like Lan Xichen did not immediately kill all of them, but left some of them to suffer.

“Xue Yang and Su She?” he asks and Lan Xichen’s face instantly darkens.

“Dead,” he promises and Jiang Cheng has no reason not to believe him.

He saw how deadly Lan Xichen was with Shuoyue. If he says they are dead, then they are.

“I should have killed Su She the moment he left the family,” Lan Xichen goes on, clearly beating himself up over that, and Jiang Cheng steps forward to cup Lan Xichen’s face between his hands.

“You saved me,” Jiang Cheng says. “That’s all that matters.”

Lan Xichen works his jaw at that, clearly wanting to argue, but Nie Mingjue puts his hand to Lan Xichen’s neck and lightly squeezes.

“Our heart is safe, my light,” he lowly says. “It’s okay. You can come back now.”

Lan Xichen relaxes as he hears his voice and he takes one deep breath before that dangerous glint vanishes out of his eye.

“My heart, are you okay?” Lan Xichen asks, and now he’s the Lan Xichen Jiang Cheng recognizes because his voice is soft and slightly panicked and Jiang Cheng knows way better how to deal with this than a vengeful, murderous Lan Xichen.

“I’m good,” he promises him, but Nie Mingjue shakes his head.

“He thought no one was coming for him,” Nie Mingjue says, and Jiang Cheng has a split second to feel betrayed by that, before Lan Xichen crushes him to his chest.

“We will always come for you,” he whispers and Jiang Cheng clutches to his shirt, completely uncaring that Lan Xichen is getting blood all over him.

“It’s just—my mother didn’t,” Jiang Cheng whispers, even though he damn well knew that his mother would never bother to come for him.

She probably thinks that he should manage to break free of this himself, and if he wasn’t strong enough to do so, then so be it.

“That’s because she doesn’t know how to love you right,” Nie Mingjue says and Lan Xichen nods in agreement.

“Not like we do,” Lan Xichen adds and Jiang Cheng’s eyes start to burn again.

“Can we go home now?” he asks, his voice choked up, and Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue immediately lead him out of the warehouse towards their car.

Lan Xichen slides into the back with Jiang Cheng, while Nie Mingjue gets behind the wheel and it’s not long before they are on their way away from the warehouse.

“Let me see, my heart,” Lan Xichen says and he tilts Jiang Cheng’s face this and that way to get a good look at his face, but it’s clear he doesn’t have anything at hand to treat Jiang Cheng’s wounds with, so Jiang Cheng is content to wait until they are home.

Once they get there, Lan Xichen immediately rushes him into the bathroom.

“Shirt off,” he demands and usually Jiang Cheng would give him a lewd look for that, but his head is still aching and he’s beginning to really feel all his injuries, so he simply obeys Lan Xichen’s orders.

Lan Xichen sucks in a surprised breath when Jiang Cheng shrugs the shirt off and it’s enough to bring Nie Mingjue to their side as well.

“You should have made it hurt a lot more,” Nie Mingjue presses out as he reaches out to trail his fingers over the bruises left behind by the rope Xue Yang bound him with.

Jiang Cheng is probably lucky if he regains all of his feeling in his arms, going by how tight they were.

“I should have,” Lan Xichen darkly agrees and Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“You got me out, that’s all that matters,” he tries but that doesn’t seem too reassuring for Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue.

“My soul, get the big first aid-kit,” Lan Xichen instructs Nie Mingjue after he takes a deep breath and Nie Mingjue turns around on the heel of his foot.

Jiang Cheng can hear Nie Mingjue punch the wall a few times, before he regains his control and he looks down at his feet.

“I’m sorry to make you worry like this,” Jiang Cheng says, trying to hide the already blossoming bruises on his chest, but of course Lan Xichen doesn’t let him.

“He’s not mad at you,” Lan Xichen says and even though Jiang Cheng knows that, it still makes a tiny knot of worry in his chest disappear. “How do you feel?” Lan Xichen asks him, as he gets started on cleaning the cuts on his cheeks and Jiang Cheng shrugs, but immediately regrets that decision.

“My head is throbbing,” he admits and Lan Xichen hums at that.

“Probably a concussion and the aftereffects from whatever they used to knock you out.”

“Blunt force,” Jiang Cheng drily says, because he does remember very well how something had hit him from behind.

Lan Xichen huffs out a laugh at that, and then he makes grabby hands when Nie Mingjue comes back with the big first aid-kit.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t think it’s entirely necessary to bring out the big guns, but before he can argue, Nie Mingjue sends him one look and Jiang Cheng closes his mouth again.

“Let us do this for you,” Nie Mingjue says, and leans forward to brush a kiss over Jiang Cheng’s forehead.

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng sighs and then allows Lan Xichen to disinfect all of his wounds, even those that are only bruises, and then Lan Xichen diligently dresses all of them up.

“I feel like a mummy,” Jiang Cheng mutters when Lan Xichen finally deems him done and Nie Mingjue laughs at that, which makes Jiang Cheng suspect that he’s right about it, too.

“Are you hungry?” Nie Mingjue asks him when he leads him out of the bathroom and Jiang Cheng carefully shakes his head.

“I want to sleep,” he whispers, damn well knowing that neither Lan Xichen nor Nie Mingjue are going to let him sleep uninterrupted with a concussion.

“You can doze,” Lan Xichen very predictably yells from the bathroom and Jiang Cheng would roll his eyes at him if only his head doesn’t feel like it would explode any second now.

“I definitely need to lay down,” Jiang Cheng says, exhaustion finally making itself known and Nie Mingjue is quick to lead him to the bedroom.

“Come here, my heart,” he says as he lays down first, and then he pulls Jiang Cheng into his arms.

Jiang Cheng isn’t always down for cuddling, but today he thinks there is no safer space to be in then Nie Mingjue’s arms, and so he settles down easily.

“I’m glad you came for me,” Jiang Cheng mutters, and feels Nie Mingjue brush a hand over his head.

“I’m glad we were in time,” Nie Mingjue gives back just as lowly and Jiang Cheng moves closer to him, tries to entirely hide in Nie Mingjue’s arms.

It doesn’t quite work, but when Lan Xichen joins them and moulds himself to Jiang Cheng’s back, it almost feels like enough.

“I thought I was going to die,” Jiang Cheng suddenly sobs out, everything hitting him at once now and he can feel how Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue tighten their arms around him.

“But you didn’t,” they try to reassure him, but now that the tears are flowing, Jiang Cheng can’t stop them anymore.

He cries and he cries, and then he cries some more, and all the while Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue patiently hold him and tell him how much they love him, and when Jiang Cheng finally calms down, he instantly drifts off to sleep, headache be damned.

At least in the arms of his light and soul there is nothing he has to fear.

Next part

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[darkenedreaper]

Say That You Love Me

Masterlist

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x FemReader

Warnings: angst, little swear

You had started to think Natasha was getting bored. Bored of the relationship. The both of you were in a beautiful and happy 2 year relationship. Until something started to change within her and about her. She had gone cold with you. She would wake up and disappear without letting you know or she’d be hanging out with some of your friends and she wouldn’t invite you. She would still let you spoon her, but you would often roll away, your back facing her. The sex between you two had nearly completely stopped, and if you two did do something, it would be with a lot less passion, almost like. Let’s get it over and done with. She had been going out dressed up. She’d literally walk into the compound living room in dresses that clung to her curves, her hair perfectly sitting on her shoulders and her heels accenting the outfit. And walk out of the door in front of you. The ‘I love yous’ hadn’t stopped, yet from her it felt and sounded like they meant nothing. And it hurt. It hurt really fucking bad. You had noticed her and Bucky had gotten a lot closer, closer in a more than friends way it seemed. You were upset by it, you cried every night in your shared room when she wasn’t in. And night after night she would come in, you’d feel the bed dip. You’d be laying on your back, and you thought she’d be having a laugh with herself the amount of times she actually placed her arm around your waist and snuggled her face into the crook of your neck. You didn’t want to be hurt anymore. You were so sick and tired. So eventually you’d just place her hand elsewhere and roll over, once again back facing her. It was unnatural the amount of space that was left between you and her whilst you were in bed. That was the thing couples did when they fought, or one slept on the couch. You hadn’t fought because she was never around quick enough to have a conversation with. This all started months ago, about 7 maybe 8.

Steve picked up on your behaviour, on her behaviour. He had confronted you in a soft manner one night up on the roof and as soon as you had finished talking, you just let the tears slip out. He had a tremendous amount of sympathy for you in his heart. And so he sat there, not saying anything as he couldn’t give you any reassurances because he knew. Bucky was his best friend and he could read Bucky like a goddamn book. So he sat with you, rubbing your back, lending you the sleeve of his jumper to wipe your nose on.

It was about a week later and yet again you saw Bucky and Natasha conversing. Huge grins on their faces and winks were often being shared. They’d obviously been on a couple of dates now, you just knew, had they kissed? Probably. Had they have sex? Unlikely. Had she broken your heart by cheating on you with not just her but your best friend? Certainly. It was winter and you were all at a gala. It was cold outside but the warmth that radiated of off Tony’s several iron men, solves that problem pretty quick.

You had enough. You already had a duffle bag prepared to go. You had called a cab to come get you. It was about 11pm now. The streets were quiet except for the small crunches of snow where only a handful of people were walking. You got up from the bar stool and walked out of the compound and towards the taxi. As soon as he saw you, he stayed sat in the car and popped open the boot with a click of his car keys. You placed your bag inside and licked your red lips and wiped your runny red nose.

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

You sighed out loud. You didn’t want to have to deal with the whole situation of ‘what do you mean cheating?’ You turned to face her and you just replied,

“I’m going somewhere.”

She looked down at the ground for a split second before looking back at you.

“How long will you be gone?”

She asked.

“I really don’t know. It depends.”

It depended on whether she still wanted you. And she damn well knew why you were leaving. And for the first time she saw it in your eyes, your tiredness, your lack of love, your lack of warmth and something called home. She fully understood the truth of what your words meant. And so she nodded her head swallowing hard as she watched you shut the boot and walked to a back foot of the taxi. Her brows furrowed and she shook her head. Something wasn’t right. You always told her something if you were one of you were leaving to be some place else. Something she never said back.

“Aren’t you gonna say that you love me?”

Natasha asked, she knew that you hadn’t fallen out of love with her. But she knew that you couldn’t fight this one sided relationship anymore. Did she enjoy hearing you saying you loved her? Or was it routine. Or was it proof that each time you said it you still loved her.

“I’ve said it too many times Natasha.”

And you got into the car and as your door shut the taxi drove off. She wanted to do something. She wanted to run after it, shouting after you hoping you’d hear. But she was stuck in place. Is this what you’d felt? Unloved, unloveable, abandoned? Her hands were by her side and tears had built up in her green eyes. A pain struck her chest. And she missed you. And your use of her full name made her cringe and hurt. You always called her a pet name or something sweet. Had she just lost the best thing that ever happened to her?

She had.

@natasha-danvers @aaron-despair @confusinggemini612 @thewidowsghost @ecruzsalaz @fcbarcelona-and-marvel-4-life @gaytrashgoblin @capmarvelq @nat-romanoffdanvers @fayhar @lesbian-x-blackwidow @emilyprentisswife @captain-josslett @oblivious-horny-lesbian @trikruismybitch @summergeezburr @username23345

[whump-town]

Hand In Unlovable Hand

Part 2, lads. Is this reaction sort of... shall we say dramatized? Maybe, I’m not a medical professional. Am I going to fix it? ugh, fuck no. Let Hotch be a little dramatic, it’s a treat for being so damn cute 

Part One

Warnings: snake shit. oh and hospitals

There doesn’t come far too many opportunities for Spencer Reid to admit it but he really wishes he would have listened to Hotch this morning. The older man had made that face -- one Reid wasn’t accustomed to by way of his childhood but he’d certainly seen it before -- the one that expresses fond disapproval. With a shake of his head, Hotch had advised in that very unique way of his that Reid should likely cut back on the coffee. The way that makes Morgan roll his eyes and gets Hotch called the “mom” to Rossi’s “dad”. Reid has grown up for far too long by himself to ever really listen to the helpful advice he’s given the first time. He’s not used to people looking out for him.

Crouched down beside Hotch’s side, close enough to watch the deep purpling of the skin around the bite on his hand, Reid can feel that morning’s six cups of coffee settling poorly in his stomach. The acid crawl of sick as Emily frantically taps at Hotch’s pale cheek trying and failing to properly rouse him. Her hand curled around the back of his neck, supporting his limp head in her palm. Derek queasily grunting as he takes a pen, supplied by Dave, and traces around the bite. Marking it as instructed by the 911 operator still shrilly speaking on the other side of the line.

How does shit like this happen to them?

“There he is,” Emily’s voice comes out far more convincingly nonchalant than she has the capacity to actually feel at this moment. More striking than the amount of time it’s taken to get Hotch responsive, even if it’s just raspily wheezing a soft complaint about Emily’s proximity to him, is his glassy, vacant eyes. Busily brushing his sweaty hair from his eyes, she smiles reassuringly down at him and looks up to Morgan. “How long until they get here?”

Derek has his phone pinched between his cheek and shoulder, manipulating Hotch’s hand to work as he’s being told. He glances up in acknowledgment of Emily’s question but doesn’t answer just yet. Nodding his head he grimaces, scowling when Hotch tries to pull his hand from Morgan’s grasp. “The ambulance is on its way,” he says. “Fifteen minutes.”

Shivering, eyelashes hovering just hardly open Emily is concerned fifteen minutes is a little too long to wait. “Where’s the nearest hospital?” She looks up to Reid, watching and seeing just how removed he is right now. His eyes cast to Hotch but having left them, dissociated someplace else. She wishes to go with him but she needs him here and now with their ugly truth and not the safe place he’s conjured. “Spencer,” she says, brisk, loud. He snaps to attention, flinching. “How far away is the closest hospital?”

Reid parts his lips as he thinks, eyes moving as he thinks. “Ten minutes.” They passed it coming into the county so he’s relying on the relative math of stoplights and traffics lights. He realizes, of course, that what they really are fighting is not someone’s eighty-year-old grandmother in a beaten-down sedan but the pharmacists who are going to have to rush anti-venom to them. Before it kills Hotch. The stats are about 5 to 7,000 to 8,000 -- it’s unlikely the strike will kill but someone has to defy the odds. Pulling his eyes away from Hotch’s painfully drawn rigid body, he acknowledges Hotch has always been one for defying odds.

Emily can feel Hotch’s muscles clenching, jaw tight to keep from making a sound as he writhes on the ground. He’s managed to get his hand back from Morgan and cradles it protectively to his chest. She’s close enough to see the purple of his thumb, the dark deathly bruise swelling. The joint looks awful and she shirks at thought of what damage this is going to do. His hands give him hell as is. Beating Foyet hadn’t come without consequence and the frequent instability and pain they cause him is well hidden but it’s not exactly a secret.

Dave hears Emily’s idea forming, fifteen minutes by an ambulance which is saying they’re on time. Hotch pale, sweat drenching his white-dress shirt, and shaking despite the summer heat weighing the rest of them down. “If Derek drives, you’ll be there in five.” There’s a moment of silence their eyes flickering between Derek and Hotch as what’s said is processed.

“What do you think, Aaron?”

His eyes are off to the side, watching the river rage on below them. Hitched, choked breathes coming from his desperately parted lips. The shock has taken its hold, leaving him distanced, and cold. The fuzzy, lightheaded daze is cut with a sharp sting, a pulse of pain up his arm. His thoughts feebly constructed, only brief moments of clarity. Until he has nothing, just the trembling lack of control over his body.

Derek rises to his feet and it’s settled. In a flurry of movement, Derek is informing, not asking, the operator that they’re going to drive Hotch themselves. Again, Emily pats at Hotch’s cheek growing desperate with his inability to answer her. Derek crouches down beside them, walking Hotch through his plan while Spencer runs to get the SUV and bring it as close as he can. He receives no answer but slowly Hotch’s eyes move to them. To Emily, to Derek.

“Up on three, okay?”

He’s nearly dead weight between them but they stop -- Morgan holding his half of Hotch up while Emily bows under her own share. Hotch just needs a moment, spitting out the bit of stomach acid that crawls up his throat. Shakily he manages to get his feet underneath him.

“Just to the car.”

Emily slides into the front seat, opening her phone to find GPS directions to the hospital. The name of which Reid is shouting out to her. JJ slides into the back seat, allowing Derek to help maneuver Hotch’s head into her lap so she can usher her body to brace the shock of Derek’s driving. They leave Spencer and Dave behind,  Reid watching the ground cautiously in fear that another snake might pop up. Dave shakes his head.

The tires kick up dirt and Hotch grunts as the cab rocks and his hand is jostled painfully between his own chest and JJ’s. “Hey, hey.” He doesn’t even feel himself slipping but he peels his eyes open and looks up at JJ’s concerned face. She’d smacked him, his cheek absently stinging from the impact. At least she looks sorry about it. When Emily reaches back to hit him -- distinctly that kind of hit that is harder than necessary but jarring and seems to force some life into him -- she bites out “stay awake, you bastard”.

The car stops, screeching and jerks, and JJ apologizes quickly, terrified as a pained grunt leaves his mouth. His body tensing and his shaking intensifying as he strains in pain. She looks up from him for only a moment, watching Emily and Derek throw the door open to try and work Hotch out. When she looks back down his eyes are closed. “Aaron!” His breathing is coming too quickly, too shallow.

They’re met at the car by staff. People pulling and JJ lets them take Hotch, doing her best to cup his head so it doesn’t hit the door. Derek dutifully rattles off everything he can think of even more details than they need.

“How long has it been since his bite?”

Derek shrugs shaking his head, he doesn’t know. “Uhm.” There wasn’t that much disorder in face of everything but getting that damn snake away took time and then there’s the time they wasted before calling 911. “Maybe… half an hour. Maybe more but not an hour.” He can’t remember. It feels like only two seconds. Hotch was on the ground and Morgan was running at that snake then --

“You saw the snake?”

Emily nods, “he -- he said it was a rattlesnake. He thought it was. I don’t know, none of us do. He just -- He grew up in Virginia but that doesn’t exactly make him a snake expert, you know?”

Shears tear through his clothing like butter. Buttons are forgotten as his shirt is cut wrist to elbow and without a word, just a wince of sympathy, onward. JJ can’t even flinch in preparation as Hotch’s shirt melts away and he’s exposed to them. Pale, thin chest hitching as he draws in short, shallow pants. The scars of Foyet’s attack pink and raised across his chest. It threatens every preconception any of the three of them have had about him.

There are the nine scares they are expecting but there are just so many more. Derek can recognize far too many. A large jagged cut from shrapnel, running from his sixth rub to under his pants at his hip where it curls nastily into a surgical scar. Some thin and straight, others curved and thick. Too many to count. Scars from chest tubes, slices from Unsubs a little too families with knives, and one he can remember holding together with his own hands.

The doctor turns back to them, “any known medical conditions?” She needs to know the complicated bits as quickly as possible. There’s no way any bastard with this many holes in him has managed to get away free. “Surgeries? Traumas?”

Like a kick to the chest, Derek finds his head spinning and heart-dropping through the floor. “He has a clotting problem because of a severe stabbing a few years ago. He -- He takes blood thinners.” He flinches, genuinely afraid now as several staff members stop. They look at him and then at one another. It just had to be Aaron. No one can sniff out trouble like him.

Again, no words communicated. They aren’t good ones, anyhow. Not the kind to be voiced with family so near but things have just gotten far more complicated. “Strip him,” is the only warning given and nods are exchanged as doctors and nurses move around Hotch.

Emily bites her tongue as they poke roughly at Hotch’s body, palpitating his abdomen and manipulating the fingers on his swollen hand. He gives a grunt of pain, eyes opening for just a moment before sliding shut. The harsh overhead light makes his skin seem nearly translucent, paling him in ways that he needs no help in doing naturally. Someone calls his name, a stethoscope joining the EKG lines being stuck to his bare chest.

“His O2 on room air is 92.”

Hotch’s pants are removed completely removed, even his belt is cut through in a clean swipe still in the belt loops. They avert their eyes until a sheet can come down over his pelvis but they’ve seen one another like this far too often. Naked on stretchers as trauma doctors hover and push and pull until they get a response. They each have someone whose knowledge of their body extends what is normal, the kind of knowledge that knew partners in their lives always find odd but someone has to know these things.

“Get him on the mask. Five liters but don’t let him drop to eighty, the last thing he needs is to tubed.” Flashing a penlight in Hotch’s eyes yields another grunt. He raises himself a  little, going back down as his shoulders are redirected to the gurney. His other hand, trembling and loosely flexed, raises to protect his eyes from the light above him. A doctor pulls his arm back down, pinning him in place as someone else preps to place a subclavian central line. It’s quick work -- sped up by their racing hearts. A few swipes at the skin with a wipe, a visible resistance that hurts and Hotch turns his head from it. Grimacing but no longer fighting just supine and limply allowing his limbs to be further mutilated.

The line is taped into place and names of medicines are called out -- none of which any of them have heard of. The gurney becomes mobile, clicks sounding through the room as they pull the guard rails up and place machines and placed around Hotch’s legs and sides. Emily smirks as she sees his feet hanging off the edge, his ankles at the cut-off. It’s a bitter moment and she’s not even sure it’s worth smiling over, she just can’t help it.

JJ steps up the gurney as they pass, grabbing his hand. “We’ll be right here,” she promises. He just looks at her. Unable to move his fingers, he watches her behind his cracked eyelids. She’s the last thing he sees, three passing roofing panels, JJ keeping pace beside him, and the chilling emptiness of unconsciousness.

[glassartpeasants]

Crying In The Club .6

Overhaul x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff?, jealousy, 

A/N: Yes yes, its been about a week. But do not fret my children for it is back. And unlike most of the chapters so far, this one actually has some fluff in it. Also sorry that this one is a bit short, But I promise that the next one will be longer! I didn’t realize how short it was until I typed the whole thing.

~~~

4 months later

“I love October! I just love all the leaves changing colors!” You laugh as you hug your boyfriends arm tighter. Smushing your face into his jacket sleeve.

“My favorite is the smell. It just has the affect I guess. I also like Halloween since people give you out treats.” You laugh at him while he pondered.

You’ve been having so much fun with (???) that you almost have forgotten about Kai.

Almost

No matter what you did, the scar Kai had given you had always brought back all the memories that you had hoped to leave behind. Every fight, every hit,

Every Kiss

‘Shit!’ You internally cringe. It’s been 4 months! You need to forget that idiot! He killed you (Y/N)! Whatever relationship you guys had was toxic. It was terrible. You deserve better than that scum.

You sigh before smiling as you hug (????) arm even tighter. Cuddling up to him. You felt safe with him. Like nothing could ruin this. You never felt more safe.

But no matter how happy you may be, there’s always something to rope you back to Kai. And that happened to be one of Kai’s henchmen.

‘Kai should see this! Sure you guys may not be ‘dating’ anymore but Kai still needs his options!’

~~~

Kai groaned at the babbling woman that sat in front of him. Her excessive talking was making him lose a few brain cells from every word that left he aggravating mouth. God it’s only been 4 months, 4 MONTHS, and he already wants to kill her.

‘This is absolute torture.’ Kai opened his eyes and saw (R/N) rambling to mimic about god knows what. Just as he was about to stand up a member of the 8 precepts of death, burst through the door panting and holding his phone.

“Sorry for the rude intrusion boss but I have something that you might want to see.” Setsuno moved his phone closer to Overhaul as he tried to catch his breath after running all the way here.

“You know it’s rude to not knock right-”

“Silence woman, what is it Setsuno?” Kai raised an eyebrow at the man you looked like he as about to pass out. He handed the phone over to him before leaning against the wall. The girl furrowing her brows at Kai, gasping at his words.

Setsuno gave Kai a look only to see Kai grip his phone in a crushing grip.

“Everyone leave, Setsuno you stay.” The girl was about to say something but was dragged out before she could utter a peep.

“Where did you see them at?”

“By the cafe downtown sir!”

Kai growled at the pictures of you and that unknown man. A burst of jealousy filled him. His entire being seeing red as he felt as if his skin was boiling hot.

You had already moved on? After what? A year of your fake secret? Anger burst through Kai as a dark aura surrounded Kai, making the air around him feel thick with tension. His mixed feelings coming into play.

‘Finally she’s out of my life.’ His inner demons thought. That was until a new voice made it’s presence known.

‘She was so much prettier than this one.’

“Print the pictures. All of them. You took them Setsuno, make sure none of them are left out.” Setsuno nodded his head and ran out of Kai’s office. Leaving Kai to his inner thoughts.

“What the hell am I thinking? I don’t miss her damnit.”

“he’s obviously not right for her. She belongs to me.’

“I’ll never have to see her stupid face again.’

“Just shut up! Shut up jesus! Why can’t I get her out of my head?!” Kai yelled while grabbing onto a couch cushion and screaming into it. He needed a clean train of thought.

Kai stood up and sulked over to his desk, sitting in his chair before sighing.

He grabbed a pen and twirled it in between his fingers, looking at his gloved hand.

‘Killing her to get your jacket back wasn’t necessary.’ He moved His head back so he was staring at the ceiling, his eyes fluttering close. 

***

Kai sat in his desk writing, filling out taxes before hearing a faint knock coming from the door. He grunted and looked up. Calling for the person to come in. He expected to see (R/N) but was surprised to see you. His eyes were wide, why were you here?

“Kai sweetie, I brought you some tea. You looked like you needed it. You sat down the tea cup and went behind him to massage his shoulders. Humming as your fingers gently pushed against his skin. Rolling the knots away.

Kai was speechless, why were you even here? You were gone. He went to move his hands to shoo you away but his hands were caught. He turned to you and froze when he saw you kissing his gloved knuckles. The gentle kisses you placed on his knuckles made his heart pound.

He couldn’t move when he felt your soft fingers slowly pull down his mask. You placed your soft hands against his cheek, looking into his amber eyes.

Kai watched as your lips moved down and connected with his lips with yours. Your soft lips moving against his. Your thumb gently gliding across his face. You eyes fluttered shut as you moved your lips against his.

Kai’s eyes slowly closed as her accepted you kiss. He moved his hand to your face. HIs finger brushing against your soft skin. His whole world felt liked it stopped. He melted into your kiss as he grabbed your face and brought it closer to his. Enjoying the feeling of your soft lips against his once more.

He felt your lips leave his, confused he opened his eyes only to find blood covering the area where you had been.

Kai’s eyes widen. As he took a few moments to let his shock to leave, he quickly tried to bring you back. But his quirk wasn’t working and wasn’t doing anything other then smearing your blood around. HIs face covered in it as hives appeared on his skin. Kai soon grew hysteric as he tried over and over again to bring you back to him before your sweet voice rang through his ears.

‘Murderer’

‘Monster’

‘Disgrace’

‘Disappointment’

‘Unloveable’

***

Kai jolted awake and looked around his office, seeing no sign of you and no sign of your body that would have been splattered on the walls. His body full of adrenaline as he looked at the time.

‘Only one minute? That whole dream?’ Kai thought to himself as he moved his fingers to his lips, which were still covered by his black mask. He sighed as he rubbed his, groaning before returning to his work. But never forgetting that sweet kiss that you so gracefully upon his lips in his dream.

‘I need more. She’s mine. Only mine.’

[ahgaseda]

two can keep a secret || chapter 10

⇥ synopsis : when your father reveals his intention to remarry, you find an unlikely confidant in Mark, your soon-to-be stepbrother, but what began as a revenge fling ironically becomes far more complicated...

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language and dialogue, recurring alcohol and drug use, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

Mark sat in the hospital hallway for God knows how long. At the start, he had stood just beyond the door to your room, but after the first blood-curdling scream left you, his knees buckled and he slumped to the floor.

And there he sat. Nurses and doctors passed by without a word. The clock ticked on the opposite wall at a glacial pace. Mark stared at his fists held limply in his lap. He had never felt so helpless in his life, but he was vaguely comforted that Jackson was in there with you, holding your hand.

Time kept crawling by. Mark rubbed at his tears roughly. Was it his fault this was happening to you? Didn’t really matter if it was or not, because he would blame himself forever.

Mark had never imagined the white picket fence life for himself, but you changed his mind. For someone who was convinced he was wholly unlovable, Mark was ready to bend and break his life around you just for loving him.

So Mark prayed to whatever gods would listen. Prayed you would be okay. Prayed the baby would pull through. He swore with everything he had that he would make it work. He would be whatever you needed and he would be all that his father wasn’t.

The door finally opened and Mark heard footsteps shuffling out. You had quieted sometime during his prayers and that made Mark nervous.

At long last, Jackson stepped out. “You can go in now,” he said softly.

Mark leaned forward, like someone had socked him in the gut. He buried his face in his hands and could no longer hold the tears at bay.

Jackson crouched down, clapping his best friend on the shoulder and shaking him a little. “Get up, bro,” he said after a moment.

Mark sobbed, “What do I say?”

“You say whatever you have to so she can get through this,” Jackson told him rather firmly. “You and me… we will never know what that pain is like.”

Mark bobbed his head and composed himself, rising shakily to his feet with a strong arm from Jackson.

Jackson held him steady and once convinced his friend was stable, gave him a nod and cocked his head toward the room.

Dragging his feet, Mark entered and shut the door quietly behind him.

You lay in the hospital bed, hands overlapped on your stomach, eyes somewhere on the window opposite him. When you heard the footsteps, you used what little energy you had to turn and look at him, whispering, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said back, pulling up the nearest chair beside your bed and plopping down heavily.

“It was…,” you choked, voice faltering in an instant. You bit your lip, eyes filling with a new wave of tears. “They said this happens. It happens for any number of reasons.”

Mark reached forward, taking your hand and holding it between his own. “Okay,” he sighed, wanting you to know he understood, but he lacked the words to convey any of what he felt.

You stared at him, seeing he had been crying out of your sight. Gripping his hand tightly, you sucked in a breath and rasped, “I lost the baby, Mark.”

Mark had known that deep down, but hearing you say it knocked the wind out of him regardless. “It’s okay,” he tried to console you, stroking your fingers.

Your face tensed with agony. The lingering pain in the core of your body was nothing compared to the pain in your chest, where your heart was twisting violently. “I put so much stress on it and me and…,” you trailed, looking away.

Mark’s first instinct was to reprimand you for blaming yourself for something completely out of your control, but he couldn’t bear to scold you. “Stop,” he interjected gently, looking at you with intent. “It’s not your fault.”

You pulled your hand from his grasp and hid your face behind your palms, sobbing, “I’m sorry.”

Mark reached for your wrists, prying them back. He wouldn’t allow you to hide in shame. “Don’t ever apologize,” he said shakily, another surge of sadness hitting him.

You cried when he rose from his chair and cradled you in his arms. You buried your face in his chest and cried until you had no more tears left. Mark did, too. You could feel him shuddering against you, trying to conceal his own emotion for the sake of yours.

When you finally stilled, Mark pulled away, surveying your face and rubbing his thumbs over your damp cheeks. Seeing you like this - broken and hurting - was threatening to tear him apart.

“I should have told you,” was all you could bring yourself to say.

Mark brought your hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss. “I forgive you.”

You sighed, “I didn’t want to make you stay with me.”

Mark met your eyes. The two of you had never been so raw, so laid bare to each other and vulnerable than in that moment. “I’m here to stay,” he said, a quiet and solemn promise.

You smiled faintly. “Please hold me.”

Mark stood again and moved to the opposite side of the bed, crawling in alongside you and molding himself to your body. You leaned into him, rubbing your hand over his arm where it lay across your waist. Mark held you tightly and the warmth of him soothed your aching heart.

For a moment, only silence filled the room and it was what you both needed. You drew strength from each other. You focused on the feeling of his arms around you. Each time your mind drifted back to the baby, the one you would never get to meet, you looked into Mark’s eyes for some kind of anchor.

You could see he was an overflowing well of love for you. And love was all that could push past the pain.

When you had stilled, no longer constantly on the verge of tears, Mark spoke tenderly to you, “Hey, listen to me. In a couple years, after we work through all our shit, we’ll have, like, the most beautiful baby ever.”

You stared at him. The unexpected words made you smile. “You think?”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “We can have as many as you want.”

You chuckled briefly and confessed something you had never told anyone, “I always pictured myself with two.”

Mark kissed your temple and whispered, “Well, start including me in that picture.”

Tears gathered in your eyes, but unlike the others, they weren’t from a place of sadness. “I missed you,” you breathed, almost inaudibly.

Mark grit his teeth. He didn’t have the energy to cry anymore, but that almost killed him. He squeezed you snugly in his arms, buried his face in the crook of your neck, and joined you in sleep.

You were woken by the nurse coming in to check your vitals. She discussed your follow-up care and recommended the availability of counseling. You nodded, knowing you were too emotional to be rational at the moment.

Mark was a steady constant at your side, his level breathing put you at ease as it always did. You wanted to lay there and sleep in his arms until the end of days.

When Jackson came in after the nurse left, your brow furrowed.

“Your father is here,” said Jackson carefully. “He wants to see you whenever you’re ready.”

“You told him?”

Jackson nodded. “Exactly like you asked me to.”

The hospital had told you notifying next of kin was non-negotiable. That was your father. You let Jackson call him and explain the situation. Now, you were ready to face the consequences.

“Mark,” you called, jostling him.

Mark startled awake, glancing you over worriedly and asking, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but I need a moment. My Dad is here.”

Mark’s nostrils flared and he entered fight response quicker than you thought possible.

You slipped your hand to his chest and coaxed, “It’s okay. We’re just gonna talk.”

Mark reluctantly clambered out of your bed, moving with Jackson to the door. “I’ll be right outside,” he said sternly.

You nodded.

When your father walked in, you felt like a child again. You remembered how close the two of you had once been, how you used to think he could do anything in the world. And the moment you saw him, you wished he could make it all better.

Your father took one look at you and collapsed into the chair at your side. He hung his head in shame and stammered, “This is all my fault.”

You shook your head. “No, I carry the blame.”

He propped his elbows on your bed and took your hand in his own, cheeks stained with tears. “I’ve done nothing but drive around and think since I left that house.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I never realized how much pain I put you in. It never crossed my mind. And for that I’m ashamed. I failed as a father.”

You reminded gently, “You’re only human.”

“I was so caught up trying to fill this hole inside of me that your mother left.”

Hearing the mere mention of your mother made your tears return and you whispered, “I think I was doing the same thing.”

He continued with a heavy heart and a trembling voice, “Your mother was the love of my life. I tried to replace her. But you are all I have left of her. I’m sorry. Please come home.”

You gave him a tender smile. “I forgive you.”

Mark paced back and forth. He was cycling through emotions faster than he thought possible. Anger and sadness, anger and sadness. For the time being, Mark thought that was all he was capable of anymore.

When your father emerged, the two stared each other down.

“You okay, kid?”

Mark blinked in surprise at the kindness, but his reply was rough, “I’m fine.”

Your father approached, mulling over his words. “I will never approve of you being with my daughter, but… I don’t think I’ll ever approve of anyone dating my baby girl.”

Mark stood his ground and said, “I love her.”

“I’m sorry this happened to both of you.”

Mark wanted to be vindictive, wanted to blame your father in some way for the loss, but he was exhausted and he knew that wasn’t what you wanted. With a sigh, Mark finally asked, “Truce?”

Your father nodded in agreement.

You jolted a little when Jackson barreled into your room without warning. “Hey, so before I head outta here,” he began, pulling out four packs of pudding from his pockets. “I may or may not have stolen these from the food cart.”

You chortled weakly and immediately popped open one of the cups. “Jackson, you’re a good friend.”

Jackson gleamed and quipped, “That’s what I like to hear. You take it easy, alright?”

Your eyes shone with unspoken gratitude. You would never forget how Jackson had been there for you on this - your worst of days. “I will do my best.”

Jackson leaned in and pressed a kiss to your brow, then bid you farewell.

Mark returned, shutting the door in Jackson’s wake, and sat on the edge of your bed, glancing you over.

You simpered. The weight in the room was heavy. You wanted to set it afire. You naively thought if you did, maybe it would be like this day never happened.

Mark stared at you in wonder, still bemused by how effortlessly you had stolen his heart. Looking back, he never would have imagined falling in love with you. Now, it was all he could think about. At that thought, he asked, “Will you move in with me?”

Your answer was a firm, resounding, “No.”

Mark flinched, utterly shocked and confused. “No?” he questioned.

“I’m gonna go home,” you told him, placing your hand over his on your bed. “Work on straightening things out for a while.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna do the same. I just thought we would do it together,” Mark replied, failing to hide his hurt.

“I need time, Mark. This loss…,” you trailed, finding your voice. “It’s reopening old wounds.”

Mark saw the glistening in your eyes and relented. “You need to heal.”

You nodded. “In more ways than one.”

“I can live with that,” Mark said, lacing his fingers through yours.

You peered up at him, nervous to ask, “Will you wait for me?”

Mark considered it a worthless question. He was all in. “As long as you need me to.”

You smiled with relief and told him, “I love you.”

There were a vast number of things he wanted to say. He wanted to tell you he would get his act together. He would clean himself up. He would become someone you could be proud of. And most importantly, someone you could trust.

But in the end, he settled with, “I love you too.”

And that was more than enough for you.

The first month was the hardest. There were days you struggled to crawl out of bed. But it was during this time your relationship with your father began to mend. He was there for you, every waking moment.

While you grieved for your baby, he finally grieved for your mother.

The second month was a little better. You started letting Mark back into your life. He was your best friend and you needed him. Endless texts throughout the day. Falling asleep on the phone with him at night.

And he could barely hide his excitement when he told you his parents were potentially reconciling.

By the third month you could look in the mirror without letting your gaze falter. Though there were still times you sat in the window and stared off into the sky, wondering why.

Everything happens for a reason, Mark would text you. It had become his new mantra in life.

Your pregnancy broke the cycle; the cycle of vengeance and self-destruction. Though you didn’t get to keep it, that baby saved your life. And that was how you chose to accept and remember it.

“Everything happens for a reason,” you began telling your own reflection.

At some point, you adopted the words, too. You had to let go of the past and find a way to move on, but you knew without a doubt that Mark was a part of your future.

Checking yourself over in the mirror, you swayed a little. It had been longer than you cared to admit since you got this dolled up, wearing a pastel yellow dress and matching high heels. Once upon a time, Mark mentioned he liked yellow on you.

The last time you saw Mark was in that hospital room. Your heart was aflutter. You had changed so much since then. Like a lifetime had passed in just a few short months. Now, you were finally ready to see him and he was coming over for the first time. Hence, the pretty outfit you were sporting.

The sudden ringing of a doorbell tore you from your thoughts and you raced down the stairs to answer.

The moment you opened the door, Mark said, “Hey.”

“Hi,” you greeted sweetly.

He made no moves to step inside, standing shell-shocked on the porch as he glanced you over. “You look beautiful.”

You bit your lip and replied, “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Mark handed you a bouquet of assorted, vibrant flowers, which you hadn’t noticed at first. You were wholly distracted by him and how much you had missed his dumb, handsome face.

“Thank you,” you gasped in surprise, giving the flowers a sniff and finding their scent to be heavenly. “I love them.”

Mark smiled, trying to hide his awkwardness. “You’re welcome.”

“Come in,” you offered, waving him inside. Leading him into the kitchen, you found a vase to put the beautiful flowers in.

“How are you?” Mark asked. He texted you that every day. It was warm to finally hear the words in person.

You turned to him after positioning the flowers in the vase and said, “I’m good. How are you?”

Mark was over the moon to see your voice and expression match your words. You were glowing. Light was glistening in your eyes, but not from tears. Though staying away killed him, Mark respected your need to find yourself again and he was overcome with emotion to see the time had done you well.

“Never better,” he replied coolly.

Your thoughts were similar to his. He looked good. Not just in that Mark Tuan hot as hell kind of good, but he looked healthy and flushed with vitality. And it made your heart soar. “Glad to hear it.”

Mark really didn’t know what to do with himself so he cut right to the chase. “Can we… start over?”

You cocked a brow. “Clean slate?”

“The cleanest of slates,” he retorted.

You chuckled and never passed up an opportunity to tease him, “Shoot your shot, fuck boy.”

Mark flashed his teeth in a grin and began, “A little birdy told me you like Disney and guys that have really horrible social anxiety, but are sober and ready to grow the fuck up.”

At the word ‘sober,’ you wanted nothing more than to fling yourself into his arms and hug him with all of your might. You knew Mark had his demons to fight and you were relieved he was winning the battle. “In a nutshell,” you sang, gleaming.

“With that in mind, I was wondering if you would like to go on a date with me?”

You had never been on a date with Mark before and the idea made your pulse race with excitement. You couldn’t hope to hide the glee in your voice. “A date?”

Mark saw your face light up and he smiled broadly. “Yes.”

“What would we do?” you asked curiously.

Mark had obviously given that plenty of thought and answered, “I was thinking we could go see the Frozen sequel and eat lots of greasy, cheesy pizza.”

“Ah, dinner and a movie; the ideal first date,” you told him humorously, cheeks aching with your grin. “Sadly, the Frozen sequel came out on DVD last week.”

Mark gawked. “Damn it.”

You stepped toward him, heels clicking on the tile floor. “Improvise. I like guys that improvise.”

“I have a PlayStation. It plays Blu-Ray. Where is the nearest Wal-Mart? They would obviously have Frozen.”

You chuckled. “Obviously.”

“And every pizza joint delivers.”

You echoed the proposition back to him, “A night in? Pizza, Disney, and pajamas?”

Mark joked with a laugh, “Yes, but absolutely no sex. Zero.”

“Bummer,” you whispered facetiously.

Mark’s eyes widened. They practically twinkled. Then, his tone changed, “But I’ve had my full of nights in. I’m sure you have too. And as beautiful as you look, you should be flaunted.”

Of all your imaginings of what a date with Mark would look like, there was one you dreamt about the most. “It will be sunset soon. And I’ve missed the beach.”

“Okay, we can walk the beach and get to know each other,” agreed Mark playfully, pulling out his keys.

“Perfect,” you cheered, heading for the door with him in your wake.

“Hey,” said Mark, grabbing your hand and tugging gently.

You turned back to face him, expectant. “Yeah?”

Mark came close, speaking softly, “Don’t tell anyone, since it’s our first date and all, but I’m totally in love with you.”

You leaned in, pressing a sweet, chaste kiss to his lips, and whispered, “Your secret is safe with me.”

[ The End. ]

chapter 09 ⇤ chapter 10

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{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // all rights reserved }

[vivalaluciforever]

Asmodeus x Reader - Perfection

Asmo's pov:

"(Y/N)~~~ Want to come and have some fun?~" I sing through her door.

Through the muffling of the door, I can hear her yell back at me. "No thanks, Asmo!"

"Aww. Too bad. Well, I'll come back later honey~" and with that, I leave and head back to my room without a second doubt in my mind.

(Y/N)'s pov:

I'm surprised that I was able to keep my voice calm, but somehow I did. Thank heavens Asmo went away. I love him more than I can ever explain, but he can never love me. I'm not Asmo pretty. I'm not all makeup, fashion, and decor savvy. He'll never love me.

He wears designer clothes, perfect hair, and meticulous makeup. Me? I wear sweatpants, my hair has a permanent shape as a messy bun, and makeup is a no. I tried once to "girly" up. Let's just say that Asmo spent a whole HOUR fixing everything, and don't get me wrong. It was super sweet of him to fix everything for me, but that just set him back. He had to endure me, fix my mess, and socialize with me.

Every time he smiles at me I feel heartbroken. I smile and nod my head, but on the inside, I'm dying. I've never been an insecure person. I've always been a "shove off, I am as I am" person, but Asmo is the exact opposite. He's just perfect. Everybody never complains about how put together his appearance is. Although his brothers complain about each other plenty, they're brothers. What else are they supposed to do?

"(Y/N)?" whispers a quiet voice through the door. "Can I come in?"

I wipe my eyes and take a breath before answering. "Sure Mammon."

A white tufted head pops through the door. "Do you want someone here with you or should I leave?"

"Please stay with me Mammon. Please?" I beg, sniffles cutting through the quiet.

Mammon quickly enters the room and gently shuts the door. Making his way across the room, he scoops me up and gently uses his fingers to brush my hair out of my face.

"I'm so grateful for you Mammon. I really am." I whisper.

His face blooms a deep red. "W-Well... I-I am the G-Great M-M-Mammon after all."

He just holds me close and slowly rubs my back. His steady heartbeat thumps through his chest and reassures me quietly but surely. His arms hold me against him, even as I start to fall asleep. Slowly, his gentle coaxing lures me into an emotionally exhausted sleep.

Mammon's pov:

Time to go and kill Asmo. Hence why I'm on my way to his room. I made sure that (Y/N) was passed out before I laid her down on her bed and left. Asmo better have one h--- of a good response. If I can't have her, then he better treat her right. Even I'm surprised that I'm doing this. After all, I am the Avatar of Greed, yet I'm trying to help someone else date her. Ugh. Whatever.

I can't believe I'm doing this. I'm already outside of Asmo's door, but I have no idea what to do. You know what... scrap it! Time to go and beat his a--! I kick down the door and while I do so, Asmo lets out a blood-curdling scream.

"MAMMON! WHAT THE...!" Screams Asmo.

Suddenly, the other five brothers dash into the room. Lucifer, of course, takes the lead. "Mammon. What. Did. You. Do. Now?"

"What did I do!" I exclaim. "You should ask Asmodeus that!"

Belphie shakes his head. "Really Mammon, you think we'll believe a scumbag like you over Asmo?"

"SHUT UP AND BE QUIET! Asmodeus you are a heartless, cruel, and womanizing jerk!" I allege.

Satan shrugs his shoulders. "Well, we already knew that, so what's your point? I'm just surprised that you're using his full name."

"Mammon-" starts Lucifer menacingly.

For once in my life, I, the Great Mammon, cut off Lucifer. "NO! I have spent months, months, listening to how he makes (Y/N) feel worthless. How he makes her feel like she isn't special just because she wears sweatpants and t-shirts. How he's so perfect. How her hair is never in place. How she can't compare. SHE'S FALLEN IN LOVE WITH YOU YOU A--, YET YOU DON'T EVEN GIVE A F----! She's tried dressing up! Just for you! She's tried being a 'pretty girl', just like what you always imagine! SHE'S TRIED EVERYTHING TO CATCH YOUR ATTENTION! YET EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU! I know you don't respect me you a--, but I am still your older brother. Regardless of what you think, I will still call you out for being a d--- to the people I care about. We all care about her, yet you've just pushed and pushed and pushed her. She just wants you, yet you make her feel worthless! Unpretty! Unloved! I've tried everything that I can think of. I've tried clinging to her so she has someone other than YOU! I've tried taking her out for the weekend. I've tried watching movies, shopping, offering to ask Lord Diavolo for a human world visit, and more than I can even tell you! WHY ISN'T SHE GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU ASMODEUS! ANSWER ME, US, THAT!"

I look around the room to find my brothers all frozen in shock. Even Lucifer looks like a pale ghost. They also look like they're about to commit murder.

"Asmo. Either run or explain yourself." threatens Beel. "You better answer very fast."

Asmo is standing, unmoved from his position next to his bed. His eyes are teary, his face has flushed pale, and he looks utterly terrified. Quickly he starts to shake his head.

"T-That was n-n-never my i-intention..." he mutters.

It still bugs me. "Then why did you always fix her hair, her outfits? Why always take her shopping for new clothes? Clothes she doesn't even like!"

"I-I-I... I was trying to spoil her because I have a-a-a h-huge c-c-c... CRUSH ON HER! I have a huge crush on her ok. I thought that if I spent time with her, spoiled her, and pampered her then maybe she would... maybe she would look past my makeup, past my fashion, past everything. Ok, you a--!?" With that Asmo lets out a defeated sigh.

Marching over, I grab him by his shirt collar. "I swore to protect her. Now you better go and tell her how you feel before I do it for you. If you hurt her Asmodeus, like so many others you've 'dated', I will personally hunt you down and flay off all of your skin. I'm still second oldest, but unlike Lucifer who punishes because he cares and is a sadist, I have never actually used my title as the Second Lord to lay a hand on any of you. Hurt her, and I won't hold back Asmodeus."

It's kind of satisfying to see him visibly gulp. With that, he nods his head and runs out of the room. Hopefully, he has a brain past his makeup. Now I get to have a little chat with Lucifer. Hehehe...

Asmo pov:

For once in my life, I actually run. I don't stop, even when my scarf catches on something and tears.

Reaching her room, I repeat what Mammon did and kick down the door. "(Y/N)!"

"What! What's going on! Who died!" She exclaims.

I rush over and kneel down in front of her. "Please! Please! Go on a date with me?"

"Whaaaa?" She can't even seem to fully process it. All my mind can think is (Y/N).exe has malfunctioned. Error. Error.

"Will you, go on a date, with me?" I inquire once more. "I'm sorry that I made you feel like you weren't good enough. I thought the makeup, the clothes, the pampering, and everything I was doing would make you want to go out with me, but I was wrong. (Y/N) you are beautiful just as you are."

Her eyes glimmer with tears and I already know that I look like a hot mess. I can feel my mascara running down my face and through my foundation. She shakes her head no and my heart just plummets.

"Asmo... of course, I'll go on a date with you." She whispers.

Wait. Really! "Alright! Um. Tonight? Tomorrow? Whenever and wherever you want!"

She mulls it over and then looks at me. "How about we stay home and watch a movie?"

"Sounds lovely sweetheart," I whisper. I'll take full advantage of this situation, and while I'm at it I'll even thank Mammon later.

Bonus:

And they both lived happily ever after... jk. Mammon broke down the door five minutes later to check on us. Surprisingly, Lucifer didn't punish him.

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

Sorry for the break, however I'm back!~

[bts-celestials]

⇁ series: unlikely alliance

⇁ pairing: yoongi x reader

⇁ word count: 1.6k

⇁ genre: angst

⇁ warnings: cursing

“Oh fuck,” you groaned as you quickly shut your eyes again when the light coming from the window startled you. This was probably one of the worse hangovers you’ve ever gotten in your life. That’s not even the worst part yet, the fact you have no memory of last night made you wonder what the hell happened. 

Your hands wandered around the bed as you blindly searched for your phone, knowing you left it near you when it should be charging on the bedside table. Your finger grazed upon something smooth and bony, causing you to frown from not knowing what the hell you were touching right now. It felt like a... finger? Instantly, you sat up which was a big mistake because now your headache was even worse than before and you actually think you’re going to vomit on the spot. 

Blinking a couple of times to adjust your sight, you found Yoongi sitting on the floor with his head and arms resting on top of your mattress. What the fuck? Why is he here? You tried to recall what happened last night but nothing seemed to pop up or give you an idea to why he was here, sleeping next to you. 

“Yoongi.” You lightly tapped on his shoulder, thinking he would wake up but didn’t. You repeatedly tapped his shoulder, slowly growing impatient and annoyed to the point you started to shake his shoulder violently. “Yoongi! Wake the fuck up.” You yelled in his ear. 

“Huh?” Yoongi sat up and looked at his surroundings. “You scared me YN.” He pouted as he began to rub the sleep off of his eyes. 

“Why are you here?” you questioned. “Did you get lost or something?”

He bit his lip, debating whether he should tell you the truth or just make up an excuse to why he was here. Though he needed to know if what you said last night was true but at the same time, he didn’t want to complicate things. 

“You don’t remember what happened last night?” he simply started at that, wanting to know how far your memory goes. 

Your fingers glide through your hair. “No, all I remember was us getting drinks and then that was it.” Sighing as you gently massaged the temples of your head, the pain not really subsiding.

“So you don’t remember?” 

“I just said that I don’t,” you groaned. “Why does it matter? And you still haven’t answered my question.”

“YN.” He pursed his lips, struggling to find a way to tell you how you confessed to him. “How do I tell you this.”

“Stop being dramatic and just tell me Yoongi.” You rolled your eyes. All you wanted to do was fall back asleep so the headache would go away. 

He took a deep breathe, his heart racing all of the sudden. Oh god, why am I nervous? Just tell her, maybe it’s a misunderstanding. “YN, you told me that you were in love with me.” His eyes staring at yours. “Through the phone so that’s why I’m here because I wanted to talk to you once you’ve sobered up and just know if what you said was true.”

You confessed. You actually confessed to Yoongi and told him that you love him. You can’t believe you drunk dialed Yoongi and told him your feelings. Now you really feel the vomit coming up from your stomach, you felt sick and you wanted to hide forever. And how do you explain it to him? Do you say that it was a mistake and you thought he was Jin? Or just tell him the truth? 

“YN, are you okay?” Yoongi moved his face closer to yours, seeing how pale and green you’ve gotten. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”

You pushed him away, wanting some sort of distance between you two. “I’m fine,” you gritted your teeth. It’s now or never I guess. You bit your lips as hard as you can to ignore the fact that you were slightly shaking. “Yeah, it’s true,” you breathed out. 

You watched the way his eyes widen and his mouth slightly agape when the words came out of your mouth. This is the end, you thought, but a small part of you believed that everything will be okay and that he might accept your feelings. That part of you which you hated was there because it’ll only lead to heartache when he doesn’t. 

“Stop staring at me like that and say something.” You frowned at his lack of reaction or words. “And don’t sugarcoat anything.”

He couldn’t see the way your fingers were crossed together underneath the blanket, he couldn’t see the tiny hope in your eyes as you waited for him to speak. All he could see was the potential heartbreak you were going to feel all over again and this time, it was because of him. 

“YN, I’m sorry but I still love Rose and,” he breathed in, “and I’m so sorry.”

Well that hurt, but what did you expect? For him to love you back when he’s still not over Rose? Don’t be stupid. You nodded your head, not wanting to say anything because you knew. You knew that once you opened your mouth, you were going to break down because fuck it hurts so much to hear him say he still loves her. 

“But we’re still friends, right?” He tried to make eye contact with you but your eyes were focused on your blanket. “You’re still important to me.”

You nodded again. The person you thought you loved, didn’t like you and now the person you actually love, doesn’t like you. Maybe this whole romance thing wasn’t meant to be. Maybe you were just unlovable. Shaking those thoughts away, you finally built up the courage to look at Yoongi and saw how guilty he looked. And you didn’t like it because he’s not obliged to like you back.

“It’s fine.” Your voice was soft and it was probably the first time he ever heard your voice in that tone. Soft, gentle, and reassuring. “But can you leave me alone for now, I just want some time for myself.”

Yoongi frowned at that. This was like the Jin rejection all over again and he didn’t want to go through that again. But he understood that you needed space from him because he was the one who rejected you. Even though he was going to hate every minute of it, he knew it was the right thing to do. 

“Okay,” he agreed, “but please come to me when you want to talk to someone. I’m always going to be there for you.”

You felt your bottom lip tremble. “Yeah.”

“I can’t believe you’re really leaving us.” Rose pouted. 

You decided to have a fresh start, which meant you were going back to your hometown for the new semester while taking online classes. It was something you needed, to reset yourself and come back once you were ready. You only told Namjoon and Rose about your plans, completely ghosting Yoongi for the past couple of weeks. Though he still sent you messages every now and then, telling you that he was here waiting for you to talk to him again. It felt wrong to leave without telling Yoongi anything but in the back of your head, you knew he would try to stop you from leaving. 

“I just have to Rose,” you sighed, “but I’ll be back soon, it’s not a permanent thing. I just need to do this for myself.”

“Well I support you YN,” Namjoon intervened. “It won’t be the same without you but wanting to find yourself is really important.” 

“Thanks Namjoon.” You smiled and gave him a quick hug, you felt him pat your head as a sign of comfort. 

“And if I see Yoongi, he better catch these hands like the teens would say these days.” He whispered making you snort at his lame attempts to fit in with the newer generation. 

You pulled away and turned to Rose, who was trying her best not to cry in public. But once you opened your arms for her to run into, the tears started to spill down to her cheeks. Her arms wrapped around you as she buried her face against your neck. 

“Rose, you’re making my neck wet,” you groaned and tried to pull her away but she only tightened her grip. 

“Well I’m sorry if I’m devastated that my best friend is going to leave me for who knows how long.” She sniffled. 

You blankly stared at Namjoon who simply chuckled at the crying girl. “So dramatic.” You finally pulled away and flicked her forehead, a small ‘ow” escaping her lips. “We’re still going to be talking to each other and you guys can visit my mom’s whenever you want to, okay?”

“Okay.” She wiped her nose with her sleeve and smiled at you. “I’ll miss you though.”

“I’ll miss you too,” you smiled sadly. 

You waved goodbye one last time before entering the train. A deep sigh left your lips as you took a seat next to the window, getting ready to leave and go home to your mom. The vibrations in your pocket let you know that you received a message. Thinking it was Rose who sent you the message, you rolled your eyes and pulled out your phone to only see Yoongi’s name on the screen. 

[Yoongi]: I know you’re probably getting annoyed by these texts but I’ll always remind you that I’m just here for you whenever you need me. 

[Yoongi]: Also please don’t hurt me when you finally decide to talk to me again because of all the messages I’ve been sending you. You know I bruise easily like a peach :(

You smiled sadly, your finger dangling above the block button, not having the power to press it but you needed to. If you wanted to move on, you needed to do this. 

“Sorry Yoongi.” You whispered as you pressed the button and deleted his number from your contacts.

[astoria00]

Caged

Summary:  

“What...are you?”

She hadn’t meant to ask, but the question just tumbled out of her mouth. She could only hope it wouldn’t have bad consequences for her afterwards.The woman however seemed more amused than upset at her words, a gentle smile adorning her features, as she let one of her hands rest on the sturdy door of the golden gate in front of her, inspecting the three locks with mild curiosity.

“You could call me...a like minded soul.”

[Part of the Fractures series]

Characters: Salem & Cinder 

Genre: Angst; kinda dark;

Word Count: 5.4K

Rating: Teen

Warnings: mentions of torture; emotional manipulation; Child abuse

Then we got about seven years.

For what?

To train you for the Huntsmen exam.

That’s what he...what Rhodes said he would do.

Train her.

Cinder hadn’t known if she should believe him at first. Adults were a tricky bunch, always making empty promises...just like the woman who had first taken her to the orphanage claiming she was going to get a better life there.

All lies.

For all she knew Rhodes could have gone to Madame the very next morning selling her out...but he didn’t. He kept his word and started to train her.

At night though...only at night.

It made her lose sleep, but she wouldn't dare to complain.

This was her chance.

Her way out.

That’s what Cinder told herself over and over again to pull through...

When Rhodes left the first time without even acknowledging her.

When her adoptive sisters decided to torment her again.

When Madame made her scrub the floor for a whole day straight, without a break or food, to correct her work etiquette, only to punish her in the end anyway…

It would all be worth it.

She just needed to be strong enough to endure it until it was time.

In her rare free time...which basically only consisted of the time she was allowed to sleep, she began to practice on her own, going through the stances Rhodes had taught her diligently, cutting her nighttime short.

She didn’t need sleep, she needed to get stronger...better…

The first time she passed out from exhaustion she hadn’t even realized it, but then she started to dream.

It was a recurring dream, nothing Cinder wasn’t used to.

She was running from disfigured shadows that kept chasing her wherever she went. No matter what she did they always ended up capturing her, throwing her into a fancy bird cage made of gold with three locks on the front gate to make sure she couldn’t escape. They would point and laugh at her, calling her names, sometimes even throwing rocks at her and Madame’s voice would cut through the dark menacingly.

Without me you are nothing!

She would curl up into a ball on the cold floor and try to make herself as small as possible until she woke up again.

But of course this took its toll.

A week after Rhodes’ departure, Cinder got punished for passing out while darning her adoptive sisters’ socks. She hadn’t meant for it to happen, but when they both mocked her and threatened to tell their mother she lost control over her semblance and set the socks in her hand on fire.

Something she would come to regret afterwards, but seeing the girls’ terrified faces, filled her with...some sort of satisfaction.

Although a rather brief one.

When she was finally released by Madame after receiving her due justice, her face was tear stained and her voice coarse and rough from all the screaming. She felt hot and her head kept pounding painfully with each beat of her heart.

There wasn’t a day where she wasn’t hurting all over.

Collapsing onto her mattress, Cinder didn’t have the energy to fight sleep any longer, falling into a restless slumber.

Unsurprisingly she winded back up in the golden cage once more, the usual grotesque shadows gathering around it, ready to torment her for yet another night. Squeezing her eyes shut, she huddled down in the middle and tried to block them all out.

She wanted them gone.

Why did no one care?

She just…

‘I want to be free!‘

“Is that truly what you desire?”

Cinder looked up startled, peering through the darkness behind the bars, not daring to move or make a sound. The shadows had all disappeared, along with the Madame’s mocking voice. It was...silent? No...there was something...a soft buzz surrounding her.

This felt...different than usual.

And then she noticed it!

A slight movement, a figure, approaching her and her little cage. Gleaming crimson orbs shone through the darkness, pinned only on her as they drew nearer and nearer. With each step she could feel the air around her grow thicker.

A sudden fear sized the young girl, as she scrambled onto her feet, desperately searching for a way to escape...to hide...but of course no such thing existed. There never was.

‘Fighting it is then!’

She wouldn’t let a monster take her, not even in her dream.

In sheer desperation, she raised her fists like her mentor had taught her and tried to look as threatening as possible.

“Stay where you are!”, she yelled, baring her teeth, almost growling like a cornered animal.

Sadly the figure didn’t seem to care one bit, not paying her words any mind, as they slowly stepped into the dim lit area at the outside of the cage, stopping right at its closed entrance. The pale light finally illuminated their features.

It was a woman.

A woman unlike any Cinder had ever laid eyes on. Her skin appeared almost ashen, if it weren’t for those strange, red, angry veins spreading from her hands and crimson eyes. The long black dress she wore obscured her feet from her view, but it wasn’t like the girl cared too much about that fact at the moment...even if the thought of the woman floating instead of walking towards her caused her lips to twitch a little.

“What...are you?”

She hadn’t meant to ask, but the question just tumbled out of her mouth. She could only hope it wouldn’t have bad consequences for her afterwards.

The woman however seemed more amused than upset at her words, a gentle smile adorning her features, as she let one of her hands rest on the sturdy door of the golden gate in front of her, inspecting the three locks with mild curiosity.

“You could call me...a like minded soul.”

‘...a what?’

The confusion must have shown on her face because the strange woman began to laugh. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sound. It certainly didn’t sound as grating as Madame’s, nor as cruel. It was almost...nice? Inviting?

Whatever it was, it made her even more curious about the woman, her defensive posture all but forgotten, as curiosity got the better of her.

“Do...you have a name?”

The woman cocked her head to the side, appearing thoughtful before answering pleasantly:

“I have been called many names, Witch, your Grace, my Queen, my Goddess…”

She trailed off, circling the cage soundlessly, forcing Cinder to turn in tandem with her movements.

“You can refer to me as Salem...for now”, she continued amicably, before letting her hand run over the golden bars of the cage.

Cinder’s mind was reeling.

Witch? Queen? Goddess?

She couldn’t help but scoff at that. This dream of hers was certainly going into a very strange direction.

“Magic isn’t real though”, she retorted. There was a challenging note to her tone. Maybe...she wanted to be proven otherwise.

To her frustration her words only earned her a mysterious smile.

“Perhaps, perhaps not. In any case, you appear to be trapped, Cinder.”

Cinder froze at the mention of her name.

How did she know?

‘A dream!’

Right, of course this was a dream.

She tried to calm down the panic that was threatening to rise inside her, focusing her attention on that ‘Salem’ and how she tapped lightly against the bars, as she continued to circle the cage nonchalantly. It helped, but her guard had gone up again...dream or not.

“How do you-?”

“What is your favorite fairy tale?”

‘My...what?’

Fairy tale?

Why…?

Her face fell. She… she didn’t…

“I...don’t know any…”

The adults didn’t care about fairy tales in the orphanage and Cinder couldn’t even remember her birth parents. She just knew they gave her up. The unlovable child.

No one ever bothered to tell her any kind of story.

Salem’s eyes softened almost unnoticeably.

“Then I shall tell you mine. It is called ‘The Girl in the Tower’. I imagine it could help you in ways you can’t even understand yet.”

“What’s it about?”

Somehow the idea of getting told a story appealed to the dark haired girl. Something she had always wanted if she was being honest to herself.

“It’s about a girl who got trapped into a tower by her vengeful and cruel father, all alone and with no control over her own future.”

That peaked Cinder’s interest. She hadn’t realized how she had stepped closer to the woman at the bars.

“Is...is she getting out?”

Her voice sounded unusually small, but she really...really needed to know all of a sudden.

Salem motioned for her to sit down, looking at her in a way that made Cinder wonder if that was what having a mother felt like. It was...comforting.

Huddling against the bars of the cage she dropped down, hugging her legs close to her body.

Salem’s voice was something else.

She made her tale come to live, talking about magic, about heroes and freedom, kings and castles...and about the girl who managed to escape her prison through sheer wit and initiative.

“You see, she fought for her freedom. She destroyed the locks that kept the gate closed and drained the cage of its power, never to look back.”

‘Destroyed...the locks…’

Cinder’s gaze flitted to the three locks on her cage.

Oh how she wanted that. She could destroy them and run. Make them pay for what they did to her…

But…

‘Rhodes!’

/Hurting them isn’t going to make your life any better./

He was risking so much to help her. To give her a way out. She just needed to be patient...to wait…

‘Seven more years…’

No, she would endure this. Rhodes trained her to become a Huntress. Then she could go wherever she wanted...even help other people like herself...people in need. She wouldn’t disappoint the hopes he placed in her.

/Without me you are nothing!/

The girl flinched at the sudden scream, whirling around in terror.

Salem was gone...and with her with her the peace and quiet she had enjoyed in her dream for once.

xxxxxxxxxx

“The hearts of men are easily swayed. Duty is their utmost priority. I would be careful who you put your trust into.”

Since that night Cinder had some more dreams of Salem. She found that she looked forward to them. Most of the time the older woman told her fairy tales in that pleasant voice of hers that made her want to rest and relax.

It was certainly strange having an imaginary dream person to converse with, but she didn’t complain. It was better than being tormented...even if most of Salem’s words and topics confused her.

She peered up at Salem from her sitting position, visibly pouting.

“Rhodes promised to come back.

And he is the only one who even wants to help me.”

The older woman wasn’t deterred, though, giving her one of these affectionate smiles that filled her with a strange, foreign warmth.

“Sometimes actual help is found in rather unexpected places.”  

Cinder grinned at her playfully.

“Like you, you mean?”

The only answer she got was a mysterious hum from Salem and a weird twinkle in her eyes.

xxxxxxxxxx

“I told you he would be back!”

The eleven year old couldn’t stop smiling from ear to ear, grabbing Salem’s hands through the bars with obvious joy. She wished she could jump around her to further let her happiness be known. At first she hadn’t wanted to believe her eyes when Rhodes had entered the hotel this year. Yes, he didn’t acknowledge her there, but he came to the cellar in the night. He had brought wooden staffs for them to practice with. It was simply amazing.

Not even her adoptive sisters and Madame had been able to quell her good mood today.

Her excitement got even Salem to chuckle in the end, squeezing Cinder’s hands gently.

“I never said he wouldn’t be back, Cinder.”

There was a...weird undertone to her words, but she was too happy to care about this now. It wasn’t important. Salem would tell her another tale later on and Rhodes was back to train her. Right now...life was good.

“I’ll show you what he taught me today”, she said energetically, jumping back to fall  into one of the stances she had been shown today.

Interestingly the older woman agreed and even corrected her here and there, all while regarding her with that gentle smile of hers.

xxxxxxxxxx

“Is magic real?”

Cinder knew the answer to that question. It was a dream after all. Nothing of it was real...not Salem or her tales. Everything was just made up by her somehow.

The older woman seemed quieter than usual. It made her uneasy...and sad in a weird way. She had grown to like their talks...the fairy tales…

“Every tale I told you is real, girl.”

Her tone was different, more on edge. The usual warmth that accompanied it was lacking. It made Cinder shudder inwardly.

The silence between them stretched on, making her nervous.

Why did Salem seem to be...angry at her? Disappointed?

“Salem?”

“Yes, child?”

“Why did you come here when you don’t want to talk to me?”

There was a loud sigh that caused Cinder to cringe. There was only so much silent disappointment she could take...especially from someone that wasn’t real. It was enough when Madame gave her those looks.

She subconsciously rubbed her neck, lying on her back, staring at the dark ceiling, as she waited for the woman’s answer, not sure if she was dreading it or not.

“Why you ask...call it an experiment that hasn’t yielded results as of yet.”

‘Experiment?’

How come her dream constantly threw stuff at her she didn’t understand in the slightest?

“What do you mean?”

‘What did I do wrong?’

This time however she didn’t receive an answer. Salem kept quiet.

xxxxxxxxxx

“You have golden eyes.”

“Yeah, what about them?”

“You realize he is keeping you trapped here, do you not?

That he is the reason you are still suffering?”

Salem’s voice sounded almost cold, indifferent and not for the first time Cinder cursed herself for caring far too much. It was hard enough getting through the days as it was. She didn’t need the older woman to give her deepest fears and doubts a voice of their own. Also her change of topics always confused her. First it was eyes now it was Rhodes.

“It’s only four more years...I can do this.”

She didn’t know if she tried to convince Salem or herself...maybe both.

It didn’t do anything to lift the older woman’s mood though.

“If you do not act soon you will never amount to anything and ‘that woman’s’ words will become your reality. Is that truly what you want?”

/Without me you are nothing!/

Cinder had enough. A hot wave of rage surged through her, as she glared at Salem.

“I don’t have to defend myself to you!

You are just a stupid dream I have!

You’re not even real, stop wasting my time with your crazy fairy tales!”

She immediately regretted her words. Crimson eyes flashed dangerously in the dark and the temperature around them seemed to drop. A cold shudder ran down Cinder’s spine, as her expression morphed into one of fear.

“You are right...I am wasting my time with you.

You are of no use to me!”

Before the thirteen year old could react, before the words had even registered with her, she found herself alone, safe for the returning shadows thicker and closer than ever before.

Salem was gone.

xxxxxxxxxx

“Say it!”

“Without you...I am nothing…”

Cinder was in agony. There was no escape anymore. The pain was everywhere. She could feel it in her bones, the burning that made her want to scream, to rip her skin open, to make it stop.

She had tried of course, oh how she had tried. Reopening her old scars on her right wrist. It had helped at first, but then her adoptive sisters had found out about it and Madame had made sure it would never happen again.

Salem hadn’t come back for months now.

It was weird and not for the first time she had asked herself if Salem had been real after all...but that was just ridiculous. Still...she was alone again and the shadows in her dream had gotten even crueller, not shying away from outright burning her with glowing embers they would throw at her, heating the bars, making her feel as if she was going to burst into flames at any moment.

To make matters even worse...Rhodes was late as well.

Curling herself down on the floor of the cage, she tried desperately to stop the tears from falling.

“Tell me a fairy tale”, she whimpered to no one in particular.

She just...wanted someone...to care...to be there.

/And the truth is that no one ever loved you!/

She winced, hugging her legs even closer to her body, as the tears finally escaped her eyes, trailing down her cheeks.

‘I’m sorry Rhodes…

I want to be strong…

But…’

“Once upon a time there was a despicable wizard living as a hermit far far away from any civilization.”

Cinder’s eyes shot open. Wide eyed she turned her head...and there she was...circling the cage, as if she had never left in the first place.

‘Salem.’

Any other day she might have questioned where she had gone and why she came back, but she was so tired. Closing her eyes she let the older woman’s soothing voice wash over her instead, dispelling the nightmares around them and granting her a little bit of peace.

xxxxxxxxxx

Cinder felt truly happy for the first time in literal years.

Rhodes had gifted her a sword. Her very first weapon!

In only three years she had proven herself to him enough to earn that privilege. It was surreal. Her future felt so close now.

Yes, she still had to endure four more years of her family’s treatment, but it would be worth it…

It had to be.

She had finished her chores earlier than expected today. Rhodes wanted to train with her at midnight, as usual, and she really couldn’t wait.

Last night she had asked him about fairy tales. Although he had been rather confused at the time he had told her one: The story of the Seasons…

The story Salem had told her. A tale she shouldn’t have been able to know.

How could Salem know so much when she didn’t?

‘Salem...doesn’t exist...right?’

But what if she did?

...ridiculous.

Shaking her head, Cinder made her way to the cellar. It was almost 15 before midnight. She should probably get ready. Stretching her aching limbs and muscles, she searched for her sword. She wanted to fight Rhodes with her own weapon tonight.

Her cheerful smile quickly vanished though, when she came up empty handed.

‘Where…?’

Where did it go?

“Are you perhaps searching for this?”

‘No!’

Cinder felt as if she got just dunked into ice cold water, fear gripping her heart. Slowly...very slowly she turned around, her eyes finding the source of her nightmares. Madame, head held high, holding her precious weapon in her grasp, not even bothering to hide the disgust spreading over her face as she inspected it with clear distaste.

“It seems we finally found our little thief after all”, she all but sneered, causing her daughters behind her to laugh.

The dark haired girl hadn’t even realized they were present as well. Lowering her head, she tried to make herself as small as possible.

She had to endure this.

Only a few more years…

Madame didn’t seem to like her silence, drawing nearer, that damned device ready in hand.

“Now, who did you steal it from, girl?”

“I didn’t-”

‘Wrong answer.’

The electric sparks she had come to know oh so well run through her throat, her skin hot and angry, as they sliced every nerve they could reach with ferocity, leaving only destruction and numbness in its wake.

Screaming always made it worse, but she couldn’t help it.

Even though she should be used to it by now…

Why was she so weak?

‘I want to be strong…’

Madame finally stopped, giving Cinder a few seconds to breathe again, the air burning in her lung with each gasp.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?

“It...it was a g-gift-”

“Stop lying!”

And her torture continued. Her hand flew towards her neck, but it was so futile. She couldn’t alleviate the pain.

She wasn’t lying.

What was she supposed to do?

Everything hurt…

‘Make it stop!’

[Destroy the locks.]

...the...locks?

[I will make you everything.]

The pain stopped again and had Cinder gasping for air, fighting the desperate urge to curl herself into a ball...or worse…

She had to endure this.

‘Only a few more years…’

Madame turned away from her, handing her weapon to one of her daughters.

“Here, find the owner and let them know we are terribly sorry, but we won’t be serving them any longer.”

‘...no!’

Wide eyed, Cinder raised her head, watching helplessly as her sword was passed between her adoptive sisters tauntingly.

Her weapon…

Her freedom…

Rhodes…

She would lose it all.

Her chest tightened anxiously.

No...no, no, nononononononono!

Without thinking about the consequences the dark haired girl jumped to her feet in sheer desperation.

“No please...I-I want to become a Huntress!”

Her voice almost cracked under the strain she put it under, but the panic was clearly audible enough for them to hear.

This time even Madame laughed.

Compared to Salem’s it was a rather cruel sound.

“A Huntress? You?”, she mocked, clearly amused at the prospect.

Soon enough her daughters joined into her laughter as well.

She hated them...oh how she hated them…

“You won’t go anywhere, my dear.”

She didn’t even see Madame press the button this time.

It was so fast and the pain never waited.

‘Hurts...hurtshurtshurtshurts’

There were muffled sounds, steps that drew farther away.

The girls were leaving.

Leaving with her weapon…

Her freedom…

Her...key…

[Destroy-]

‘The locks!’

Something inside Cinder ripped, exploded with an icy ferocity. She couldn’t breathe. Her vision shifted.

Red...everything was red, crimson...like those eyes she knew so well. The eyes that haunted her dreams. She was cold...numb, like the fire within her. She sank deeper and deeper into the cold embrace that cursed through her veins.

Shadows took form, surrounding her adoptive sisters, tearing into them without leaving traces, slowly suffocating them from the inside out.

There was horror in their gazes...honest, naked fear...and Cinder relished in it.

She didn’t know when she had made her way towards them, but she suddenly had her sword back, safe and sound in her left hand, while they lied motionless on the cold ground.

Only the biting buzz around her neck made the dark haired girl come back to reality, her golden eyes landing on Madame, who appeared to shrink away from her in terror.

Her normally cruel smirk had been replaced with a mask of utter panic, pressing the button of the remote repeatedly to yield results.

‘Drain...the cage!’

Cinder bridged the distance between them slowly, each step sending a wave of painful electricity through her sensitive flesh, dully echoing inside her.

But for some reason...it wasn’t enough to stop her.

Something was coursing through her veins.

Rage? Desperation? Aura?

She couldn’t say, but it was enough to finally make her endure it.

The way Madame flinched when she wrapped her right hand around her neck felt...exhilarating.

Fear… there was so much fear in her eyes...and she was the cause of it.

‘I want...to be feared.’

“You’re right. Without you I am nothing”, she practically spat the words out, a weird laugh ripping itself from her throat, raising her hand higher, as she let Madame scramble for air, “but because of you I am everything!”

‘Make me...everything!’

The light finally diminished in Madame’s eyes, her whole posture going limp in her grip. Dropping her to the ground unceremoniously, she was about to reach for her necklace when…

“Cinder…?”

Rhodes!

Relief flooded her.

He was here.

He would help her.

He would understand

She turned to him with a relieved, teary smile.

“I won’t have to run now.”

“That’s all you’ll ever do.”

‘...huh?’

There was no understanding in his gaze, only tired resignation.

What was he…?

Rhodes drew his weapons and any remaining hope Cinder had left shattered…

And with it came the burning rage that had been absent before.

‘Destroy the locks!’

xxxxxxxxxx

The following night Cinder dreamed of the golden cage bursting into flames, but it felt hollow. She had trusted Rhodes. He had been the only one who believed in her...and the first one giving up on her as well. She was torn between rage and sadness and all its pointlessness. She still wasn’t free. Atlas in itself was a prison. There was no way for her to run from the authorities for too long. She couldn’t stow away on an airship with how tight controls were right now.

Hugging her legs for comfort, she tucked herself closer behind the thin wall of cardboard she used as her makeshift shelter. The alleyway was dark and cold...but oddly enough it was better than what she was used to. No one would torture her...no one was able to…

‘But for how long?’

The thought caused her to shiver. Even thinking about it made her sick, but the people of Atlas had already taught her what to expect from them.

The dull noises of the nightly traffic made it hard for her to find any rest, so she tried to count the sounds she was hearing.

5 times a dog howled…

10 times brakes screeched…

15 times a crow screamed in the distance…

20 times her heart pounded in tandem with falling raindrop water…

25 times soft, muffled footsteps could be heard echoing through the alleyway, getting closer…

30 times-

‘Wait...what?!’

Cinder held her breath and listened as intensely as she could.

Tap...tap tap...tap…

Someone was coming down here...maybe even more than one. Instinctively, Cinder gripped the handles of her weapons tighter.

“Here?

Are you sure?

I am risking a lot just by being back in Atlas!”

A man...his voice sounded similar to all those elite people she had to cater to in the hotel. Full of superiority and arrogance.

“Salem said she is. She is probably hiding somewhere.”

Another, more deeper and gruff voice joined the conversation, but she could only focus on one thing.

‘Salem!’

They said Salem!

Could it be just a coincidence? Another person named Salem? After all Salem was just a figure she made up in her dreams...right?

There was no way someone like her could actually exist.

Magic wasn’t real…

And yet she had been telling her fairy tales that Cinder couldn’t possibly know. In the end she had to know, had to make sure. Crawling out of her hiding spot, she dashed through the darkness, precise and swift, jumping on the tall man’s back, holding one of her swords against his neck.

This one was clearly Atlesian with how he dressed.

“Who is Salem?”, she snarled at them, fixing her eyes on the other, more muscular man.

The tall man scoffed at that, rolling his eyes at his companion.

“Really? Her?

Couldn’t she have gone for someone a bit more refined?”

Oh yes, he was definitely an Atlas elite with how pretentious and bored he sounded. They were all the same.

‘Such arrogance!’

She pressed her weapon closer to her hostage’s jugular.

“Watts!”, his companion seemed to chide him, before holding up his hands, maybe to show the girl that he was unarmed.

“You are Cinder, correct?”, he asked after she failed to respond to his actions, “I am Hazel and this”, he motioned to the tall man, “is Dr. Watts. We are tasked to escort you to...our queen...Salem.”

“Salem...is real?”

There was no doubt in her mind that they meant her Salem. She did mention that her people called her their queen...but that also meant…

Everything she told her was real as well?

I’ll make you everything.

Should she really follow these strange men?

You have golden eyes.

Lowering her weapon, she shoved Watts away from her, ignoring the death glares she received in return and the silent curses he muttered under his breath, focusing on Hazel instead.

If she ended up throwing her life away for a fairy tale so be it. She had nothing more to lose anyways.

“I am ready.”

xxxxxxxxxx

The flight had been...mildly uncomfortable. Cinder had so many questions, but didn’t dare to ask her strange companions any of them. If the hotel had taught her anything it was keeping her mouth shut. Hazel had his eyes closed for the whole flight. She couldn’t quite tell if he was actually sleeping or just resting. Watts, to her dismay, wasn’t sleeping. He sat in his chair, sipping some dark red wine, pointedly ignoring her entire existence. The dark haired girl didn’t mind. She would probably despise every word that came out of his mouth anyways.

It had taken them a couple of days, but finally the terrain around them seemed to change.

Cinder was the first one to notice. The sky had begun to darken...to redden even, and the land beneath them...was dead. Lifeless and dark it spread across the continent, being parted by pitch black pools and lakes that seemed to birth...grimm?

The sight was terrifying...and oddly fascinating as well. She had never really seen a grimm in her life, only listened to the stories people would tell about them.

‘Humanity's worst enemy.’

Funnily enough no grimm had ever harmed her...only humans.

They landed near a...castle of sorts. It was a mesmerizing sight. One that sent chills down Cinder’s spine, but mesmerizing nonetheless. The purple, reddish glow reminded her of something...someone, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Hazel and Watts lead her through empty halls, lit by thousands of candles, which adorned most of the decor.

She felt more and more restless, the closer they got towards the massive wooden door they were heading to.

Hazel was the one pushing the two heavy wings open for her, stepping aside and motioning for her to enter, giving no indication of following after her. Neither did Watts, even though he seemed somewhat delighted at her nervous expression, twirling his mustache between his fingers.

Clenching her hands into fists, Cinder ventured into the room alone. It was similarly structured to one of the offices she had cleaned at the hotel...with some exceptions of course. The biggest probably being the throne right behind the long meeting table...and the person sitting on it.

A woman, she had only ever seen in her dreams before.

“Salem...you are real…”

It wasn’t a question any longer, it was a statement. How long had it been since she had last heard Salem’s gentle voice?

“What is your favorite fairy tale?”

Cinder blinked owlishly. That was...the same question she had asked before. It was confusing, but so had been a lot of things Salem had talked about in her dreams. Thinking back, she tried to remember the tales she had been told.

Tales of magic…

Of freedom…

“The Girl in the Tower”, she answered hesitantly, not missing the spark of interest and amusement that shone behind those crimson eyes, holding her gaze steadily.

“An unusual choice.

Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

No more cages.

No more locks,

A fable of magic and freedom…

Salem’s tale.

I won’t have to run now.

That’s all you’ll ever do.

She would prove him wrong!

She would prove everyone wrong!

“I want...to be powerful!”

An affectionate smile spread over Salem’s regal features at her words and oh how she had missed those smiles. Standing from her throne, the older woman made her way towards her, extending her pale hand. Hesitantly Cinder laid hers atop of it. The touch wasn’t cold like she had expected it to be, instead she felt warmth.

This...this was real.

Smiling weakly she squeezed the palm beneath hers softly, not daring to hope.

Salem’s eyes softened, her fingers closing around the girl’s hand gently.

“Welcome home, Cinder.”

[atypicalsenerio]

How do you repay someone who's given everything you've ever asked for, with or without your knowing?

Ike's not even half as smart as Soren. He knows this. All this while, he's relied on him for many things; his objectiveness, his tactical analysis, and has always, always counted on him to have a clear mind when he could not.

But Soren-- Soren is also a living, breathing person, and that makes him much more than that. The icy mage can get distracted, shows irritation, huffs (but he knows he's satisfied, perhaps even happy) and veils himself behind a wall of words that say everything about him and also nothing to those who don't quite know him. Soren tries-- very, very much.

The grains of time had piled up like a mountain, each a glimmering gold. Soren had given all of that to him, since day one. He'd not noticed, because he was silly. He'd noticed, but knew that any he could pay back was but a dim silver.

And then, he'd not paid back at all, and the grains had continued to trickle still.

Fingers run across the portrait that he'd been gifted. A memory of the past, a rallying cry.

But to him, wouldn't need something like this. Unlike Ike, who forgets, who blunders.

Because-- all this while, Soren has forged his own path, looking onward. Whatever that drives him had always been ahead of him, so a token of the past wouldn't be as meaningful.

The night passes. The day breaks.

A knock comes to the mage's door. Ike invites himself in, greets Soren with a warm smile and a nod.

"Happy birthday."

"I thought that this one out of the rest would be the most meaningful for you. I wish I could think of more, but-- here."

“My memory’s not as good as yours, but this is as close as I can remember.”

The crinkling of oil paper reveals a simple meal. It's nothing special-- slices of bread and lettuce and bacon. The taste wouldn't be the same; he's not his mother, and neither does he know well enough the taste of homecooked lunch. The best mimicry he can make of it is in its shoddy craftsmanship.

But it's as much as he can make.

"... And, I also thought about what I should do for next time."

A faint rustling, and fingers unfurl to reveal a band impressed with a seal, strung up with a line of rope.

“The signet rings gave me an idea. These are meant to be heated and pressed into rock, and they’ll leave stamp marks. So if you see this on a tree or a rock, you’ll know that I’ve been along the way. And—”

A faint tinkle, and Soren should feel cool metal land in his own palm.

“Here. There’s one for you, too. So it won’t be just you who’s looking the next time.”

He spends the rest of the time there he has with Soren, as long as the lamps allow. Eventually, they have to say goodbye to each other, and Ike waves goodbye, knowing that they'll see each other the next day.

The door creaks shut.

...

There’s also another reason for them. Ike presses his fist shut around the ring, feeling as if it would deform under his grip. It’s but an illusion of flesh, but held so tight, the ring feels like it gains warmth of its own.

Perhaps it truly does, for when Ike releases, letting the string catch on his finger, it turns, twirling like a pendulum, swinging one way and the other.

He holds it out. The swinging doesn’t stop, not for a long time. Ike catches it, and its head faces south—towards the door he’d come from.

It could just be his imagination.

But also; whilst in Castle Nados, there was some evidence left. There wasn’t enough to make good for a teleport, as much as Ike would have loved to, but with what he had, he’d put it in the rings.

It was mostly sentimental value. There shouldn’t be any effect with this little, but even if he couldn’t feel the reputed pull that the powder brings towards linking two points in space, perhaps the metal could.

Perhaps. It’s a little edge more, one more tiny patch for a gaping hole. A trinket at best.

But it's transcended it's purpose in the past, and taken on a new one for the future.

The ring lands in his palm, twinkling like an eye.

Ike still can't find an true answer to the question-- not now, and not still. He's not smart enough for something that slices down to the bone.

That was always more Soren's thing. He just barged in like a brute, and did what he thought worked best.

Perhaps that's his answer, this time. Because it's in the present, which ticks by like a leaky sieve.

If you can’t cut the truth in two; warming it up little by little--

Ike supposes-- Maybe, that’s fine, too.

All day long, there had been one person Soren wanted to see most on his birthday. They were close enough that Soren wouldn’t have minded if Ike was busy, they spent so many of their days together. It was with a softened smile that he welcomed Ike to his room, other gifts on his bed.

“Ike. Thank you. It has been. I wonder who let the date slip to everyone else. I have to admit I’m surprised by it.” This amount of casual attention, perhaps bordering on affection from others, people who mostly barely knew him, was too much to pass off as just flattery from someone trying to get their way or a favor returned to him. Being a part of a community and seeing it manifest in the smallest of ways in notes and trinkets had touched him in a way he hadn’t expected, nor voice directly to anyone else.

Ike, however, was the highlight of his day. Even empty handed, he would be. When all else faded, when it was no longer his birthday, he would still have Ike.

Perhaps the events of the day had him feeling especially sentimental. Soren took the offered sandwich, looking up at Ike. “This is how your mother used to make your lunch, isn’t it? It’s simple, but it really is my favorite meal. Perhaps your love of bacon is contagious,” he teased, voice gentle. “I might have a plain palette, but I wouldn’t change a thing about it. Funny, how the mind works,” he said fondly, taking a bite. There was nothing inherently special about the bread, lettuce, or bacon, but the memory attached made it all crisper, sweeter.

He set the sandwich down and turned his attention to the ring in Ike’s hand, watching it lower into his own palm. His heart skipped a beat at the association, foolishly, of rings and someone he cared for. (Who was the dense one here, anyway? Was it in fact, Soren? He was giving Ike’s history of being oblivious a real run for its money if he was…) Soren swallowed, a slight blush on his face as Ike explained. Hopefully, there would be no next time they were separated, but if there was—

“That’s brilliant. You’re brilliant. Thank you, Ike. I’ll guard mine well.” He slipped the ring on his finger to admire it, and felt the cord it was attached to. He raised his head, and he took a step forward.

A rush of affection carried him the rest of the short distance to Ike. Soren couldn’t remember initiating a hug before, but he did it before he could think, taking advantage of the chance to hide his warm face against Ike’s chest and cling to him in a display he didn’t want to hold back from anymore.

Every admittance and display of his flaws over the years, every conversation that had been a burst of what had always eaten away at him, the grounds for which anyone else would reject him, every part of himself or his background that had made him feel alone and unlovable— every syllable had been like asking Ike, ‘Are you sure you want me? Are you sure I’m worthy of being your friend? Are you sure, are you sure, are you sure?’ And every gesture, every answer from Ike had always been a confident, steady, ‘Yes’, as though Soren had never needed to ask at all, had never needed to fear his own vulnerable spots.

Soren squeezed Ike’s body in his smaller arms for a moment, hoping he was doing this whole hug thing right, overwhelmed and happier than he knew what to do with, for once overflowing with something other than painful memories and a silhouette that used to feel more shaped by old wounds and recurring rejection than his own lived life. “Thank you, Ike. For being here.” For being you, the only way you know how, so natural to you you don’t see how exceptional you are.

“I think I’d like to keep celebrating birthdays from now on.”

[run2yamama]

Chapter 27 - R2YM

One of the biggest challenges I’ve faced growing up with absent-mother was not being able to enforce boundaries, with anyone in shape or context. It isn’t a surprise considering the person who brought me into the world didn’t respect me or make me feel worthy. She always crossed the line and from a very young age I knew that this didn’t feel right but I couldn’t quite explain it, it was clear to me that during this time I was well and truly an emotional punching bag. Being put in dangerous situations by your own mum also makes it difficult to comprehend that you are worth anything as my safety wasn’t paramount to her.

So it wasn’t a surprise to me that I grew up struggling to enforce boundaries with other people in all areas of my life, this includes friendships, relationships and even in professional work environments. It was second nature to me to feel like I have the resilience to deal with whatever other humans throw at me and I was used to not speaking up or perhaps not feeling like I had a right to speak up. I can’t stress enough that this is not a part of resilience, of course we all have to pick our battles but that is not the same thing as feeling you inherently have to take what others throw at you just because you know you’ve been through the worst of the worst when it comes to someone stepping all over your boundaries.

It can even feel foreign to you when you hear your own voice quietly verbalizing that you feel infringed upon, sometimes you hear yourself start and quickly stop because every other time you tried to do this in your life (with your mum) – you were shut down swiftly and in my case, shut down in an aggressive manner. It’s truly heartbreaking when you can see the cycle for what it is and you can see why you’re unable to advocate for yourself with clear eyes. Unlearning this behaviour is so difficult I have no words for it BUT it isn’t impossible, it truly isn’t.

The feelings of being abandoned and therefore feeling like every time you set a boundary that may push someone away or result in you having to walk away is so conflicting. I promise you, I get it. You feel like no matter what it is they are doing or saying – even if it doesn’t sit right with you, even if your gut tells you it’s truly wrong – you have to stay through it and work it out rather than drop a straight NO into the mix. You don’t want anyone to feel like you’re abandoning them or giving off the message that they are “unlovable” or “unlikable” – it comes from a really lovely place ultimately but it’s simply not realistic or fair. When you’ve been exposed to emotional neglect it’s hard to see that setting firm boundaries doesn’t fall into that same category. Constant exposure to this gives you a tunnel vision where standing up for yourself equates to the same as being mean and hurting others and again it’s just not true.

It takes practice but you owe it to yourself to find a way to communicate boundaries to others, to be able to walk away when awful toxic behaviour is impacting you. You will end up using what your mum did to you as a weapon against yourself – how is this fair? You don’t deserve that. You can still remain kind and know that it isn’t the same thing, abandoning someone doesn’t even fall into this – you are categorically not doing that. Something I’ve found useful is having a “go-to sentence” as a template that has been practiced, that feels comfortable for me personally when leaving my mouth. For example: “I don’t like how this is making me feel, I understand you have to stand by your reality of this situation and that’s okay too but I don’t want to be a part of this as I feel like it could become toxic. I hope you can understand this and in turn respect my reality of the situation.”

We will all have conflict with the people we care about at some point but it doesn’t matter how long you’ve known them, if you feel like you are the only one growing and they are exhibiting behaviours that trigger you or make you feel like you’re regressing it is your RIGHT to choose to bow out gracefully. There is no way we have survived and endured what we have, broken free from the chains of having an absent-mother and then accept any behaviour that is thrown at us for the fear of abandoning them.

You are not your mother.

-R2YM

[ocular-intercourse]

okay @mangosandchili 14 OC questions instead of 16 cause ned picked the other two 🙏

actually.. let me split this character-wise so I won’t take 100 years

finn gets first draw always

🌲 What is the kindest thing your OC has ever done for someone? What is the kindest thing someone has ever done for them? On the flip side, what is the worst thing your OC has done to another person?

Hmm hm kindness seems like a weird concept to think about for Finn. Cause yeah, he is excessively, self-sacrificingly kind, but he can also turn that off pretty easily when the other end does not deserve it in his eyes. The kindest thing he has ever done, continues to do sometimes, absolutely misplaced, is caring for his father, not giving up on him. Back when they were still living together, when his dad was too drunk to function, he’d clean him up, clean up around him, sober him up, even after the beatings started, forgiving him over and over. The kindest thing someone did to him was probably his mom getting him out of that situation.

The worst thing he has done to somebody else.. what an absolute nightmare question for Finn hasdghj. Take your pick between not magically being able to keep Kitty alive, continuously cheating on Emily like the single greatest asshole in the world or leaving Shawn straight after he tried to kill himself… he’d probably be able to come up with some other things that seem to be true in his eyes but might not be quite as bad as he sees them.

🌳 What does your OC do when they see others upset or in pain? An upset friend? A stranger?

He helps. Stops what he is doing and runs to help the more he loves the person. He could be standing on the court of some major tournament and drop the bat to go and help one of his loved ones, you can call him in the middle of the night and be sure to count on his help. Nothing in his own personal life can be more important than helping a friend in distress, so he’ll almost always put himself second. And if he does not, for whatever reason, no matter how justified, he’ll feel guilty about it. The same goes for strangers, in a way, of course not quite as extreme. But if he’d see someone in need of help, he won’t walk past it. He’s the type of person, when you’re in public and something happens that makes everyone uncomfortable, makes them pointedly stare someplace else or walk off hurriedly, he’d be the one to step in with no regard to his personal safety. He’d be the guy trying to safe someone from getting hit with a car, or step in between fights, argue with the police, make sure a person gets home safe.. But he also thinks ahead about what he could do for people. I made a post a while back about him being the kind of person to bring homeless people warm drinks and shoes in winter. I’m not quite sure what drives him, I think it’s one part his personal experience, knowing how it feels when nobody helps, but also him feeling guilty, feeling like he is a burden and a bad person and he needs to counterweight somehow.

🌿 What is something true about your OC that they refuse to admit about themselves? Is there any reason to this besides embarrassment?

He will NOT. EVER. let people tell him he is/would be a good father. He is though, he’s been practically raising his little half-brother since he was three (he’s seven now) since his mother is.. uh.. not exactly full-time mom material. And the kid is so good, he’s great actually, smart as hell, already running circles around him, skipped some classes (actually I’m thinking about it more and more but what used to be a he when i came up with him might actually be a trans girl but we’ll see so I’m sticking with describing Bryant as him atm, that’d be something that develops in the story in the future). But if somebody tells him what a good job he did/does with Bryant Finn would shut that down immediately. And then go and cry about it. He gets really panicky about the thought of being a father, since fathers in his family have traditionally not been especially great at it. There are arguments between him and Shawn, who says that Finn worrying so much about being a good father would already make him a hell of a better father than he ever had.

🍃 Describe a regular day for your OC. What is their schedule (if they have one).

He’s developed a pretty good routine since he went pro, which helps a lot with his moods and all. He will get up early, 7-ish, go for a run, come home, make breakfast, a lot, cause he has to eat constantly to keep mass. Then it’s time for some “paperwork”, organizing stuff, calls with sponsors and partners and whoever wants something of him, photoshoots, interviews, collabs. Cooking, eating. Meeting with his trainer, training or training solo. Depending on the day picking up Bryant from school and hanging out with him/meeting his sister/mother/other friends. Cooking, eating. On every other day streaming, mostly some games, sometimes cooking, sometimes just hanging out with fans. Mania/depression will of course throw some wrenches in there but he’s been pretty good at keeping things together lately. If he’d be back with Shawn he’d also trim all the job stuff down a bunch, a lot of his excessive training atm is very much just to keep himself occupied.

🍁 What is your OC’s most traumatic experience? (If they don’t have just one traumatic experience either pick one or describe them all!)

Ha, laughing at the describe them all.. let’s not. The biggest is definitely losing Kitty. It has completely, both positively and negatively, marked his life. It made him develop his strict anti-drug stance and the focus on sticking things through to avoid hurting his family. Sometimes he thinks back to it, if Kitty would not have died, who he would have become. He’s mostly sure he’d be the one who had killed himself instead, without the trauma of losing her he would not have thought about what that would do to others as much. He’d most definitely be an addict in one way or another. He would not like himself very much. He also ABSOLUTELY hates that thought cause he can’t bare seeing anything positive in her death, he refuses to think about it that way. He’d bring her back in a heartbeat, regardless of what that would do to him. So instead he is much more focused on the fear of losing his loved ones, of somehow being responsible for it either directly or indirectly by not seeing it and not helping.

🍄 How would your OC react to the death of a friend/family member/loved one? Is there anyone they can confide in?

Oh boy how fitting. It was already the absolute worst thing to happen to him, knocked him out for quite a while, people had to babysit him constantly, he dropped out of school, it took him a lot of time and energy to resemble a human being again. If it would happen again I think he would just stop functioning. He wants to follow but promised himself not to, so he can’t, but that does not make him feel better. I think he would have to be hospitalized in some way or another, stay in a clinic for a while. Other than that Shawn and Raphael would be the ones he would confide in the most. His sister too, in a way, but with her he would be much more worried about putting all this negative shit on her.

🌾 What would your OC be like if they were evil. Or if they’re already evil what would they be like as the good guy?

Oh I’m excited about this question for some of the others lol. It’s really hard to picture Finn as an evil person. He sure likes to believe he’s an unlovable asshole but he’s really not, that’s at the core of his character. Evil Finn would have married Emily and been an asshole about it, cheating and not being safe about it. He’d be a drug dealer probably, that’s the worst thing regular Finn could imagine himself to be. He’d just be bitter and aggressive and living it out, enjoying dragging others into the muck with him.

💐 How would your OC react to somebody telling them that they love them? (+ bonus give another characters/OC name!)

Definitely depends on whether the intention is platonic or romantic. Emily and Raphael showing romantic interest would just make him sad? Melancholic? Guilty. Cause he wants to make them happy, but he can’t give them what they want, even if he loves them, he does not love them that way. Shawn telling him he loves him would just.. break a dam, he’d definitely cry and be absolutely overwhelmed and relieved. Also a little scared. Anybody else saying it would just prompt him to, uh, probably stop seeing them. Flight instinct. He is so not over what happened between him and Shawn he will run for the hills at any sign of a potential relationship.

🌷 What does your OC hate about themself? What lies about themself do they believe? On the flip side, What does your OC love about themself?

I love these questions, they were very much made for the way I write characters lol. Especially Finn, cause a lot of him is just being tortured by his brain and him knowing that, but still believing in it. He focuses on the bad things he has done, and there’s been a bunch, a lot of it definitely fueled by being bipolar, but he can’t accept that as a reason, he does not want to make excuses for his actions. So he just sees how he has hurt people in the past and deduces that he has to be an asshole. It is really hard to convince him otherwise. Even if he logically can understand that it is unlikely that people think this way about him, it’s still an underlying fear beneath everything and always some part of his motivation. So he’s weak, and a coward and selfish and a burden, unlovable. He definitely hates being impulsive and aggressive sometimes, there’s been a hundred times when he was in a fight, an unnecessary fight he couldn’t keep himself from starting, and saying things/doing things he did not mean to. He hates this fact, that he can lose control like that, it scares him.

On the flipside, he is somewhat narcissistic. If he does not hate himself for a second he considers himself to be pretty damn great. He prides himself on the way he takes care of other people. On how far he’s come, both mentally and professionally. He knows he’s a good musician, a good cook. He’s the kind of person that would refuse to work with others in a group project cause he knows he’s insufferable and would not be happy with other people’s work affecting his evaluation. He can’t watch other people do things he would do a different way without wanting to step in and correct them. But all of that ego is just a balloon that pops pretty quickly and he’s back to believing he’s the worst at everything.

🥀 What is something your OC blames themselves for and is it really their fault? Does it keep them up at night and is there any lingering trauma?

I like how these questions are all just building up on one another. He blames himself for not seeing how miserable Kitty had been, for having her persuade him to travel without her when he kinda knew he should probably worry about her, for not somehow having been able to, I don’t know, just know what was going to happen and act differently, or just generally for not being enough of a good force in her life for her to cling on to. That’s all just doubling down when Shawn tries to kill himself and he once again feels like it was his personal failure. Not being good enough or attentive enough, probably even being part of the reason why. There’s a whole lot of trauma there. Of course none of it is true. Kitty knew exactly how attentive Finn had been to her, it’s the reason she made sure he was away when she went through with it. The same goes for Shawn, where the reason was exactly the opposite of killing themselves because Finn was not enough, but rather because Finn was too much, too good, and they would just be bad for him if they would stay alive. Finn can’t see that angle, at all, if he did he would not accept it. It keeps him up in his worst nights. If/when he gets back together with Shawn it would be a major fear for him, Shawn having a relapse, Shawn dying of an overdose, intentional or not, Shawn getting to such a low point again without him realizing or being able to do anything about it. I imagine he would sometimes get a bit hysteric about stuff, if he does not know what Shawn is currently doing or something seems off, he is really good at working himself up into a frenzy about small stuff that feeds into his worst fears.

🌺 In what situation would your OC be pushed to commit an act of violence? Would they go as far to kill someone if they had to? How would this affect them and their relationships with others?

Well he’s certainly been in a bunch of fights, cause he’s provocative, he’s great at making people lose it, sometimes intentional sometimes not. He’s also not good at not reacting to provocation himself. Racism certainly feeds into that a lot. He’s had some manic phases where he was very much looking for fights. I think he would be able to kill someone, but only in the moment and only if it’s to protect himself or somebody else. He would not deal with it all too well, it would haunt him. He would think about that person having a life, a family, loved ones of their own. He would think about putting an end to somebody’s consciousness, that last fading moment, it’s all over, because of him, and he can’t take that back. I feel like the people around him would never be able to punish him for it as much as he would do himself. If he would have killed for Shawn’s sake, he, Shawn, would probably struggle a bit with accepting what has happened, because of him, what Finn had to do, because of him. He would be angry for a while, directed at Finn and himself. Finn would not be able to handle that very well, he can’t bare the thought of being hated be Shawn, he is so scared of being seen as bad, even though part of him has himself convinced that people see him this way anyways. He’s just scared of confirming what he already suspects.

🌸 What would your OC do if they were given god-like powers or the ability to change anything about the world for a whole day?

I think Finn would have a lot of problems with that timeframe. Cause there is not a lot of things god-like powers are worth of that would make sense for such a short amount of time. He would think about ending hunger and homelessness, discrimination, racism, the entire system, he would bring Kitty back, he would want to make everything okay.. but only for a day?? And then go back to square one? We would rather not change anything than have something great for a second only for it to be taken away again. So it would all be about creating a nice experience with the people he loves, allowing them all to do something they have wanted to do their whole lives.

🌼 Describe one of your OC’s worst nightmares.

Oh I think I mentioned them all already. Family members and close friends dying, or other terrible things happening to them. Alternatively finding out that everybody hates him and he’s hurt all the people he loves without realizing it, that they all think he and his moods are a burden and they’d all be happier without him.

🌻 What advice would your OC give to their younger self? What advice does your OC need now?

Don’t try to stick to how you think things are supposed to be as much versus doing what you actually want to do. Don’t bend and break yourself to fit some sort of premade mold that society created for you. He has done a lot of hurtful things to himself and others only cause he tried to play by the rules. He dated Emily for much longer, trying to present himself as straight, than he should have, experimenting on the side and hurting her that way. He excused his father’s behavior way too much, being the filial son he’s supposed to be, cause it’s family and family sticks together and forgives. He’s hated himself so much for his illness, trying to force it away instead of accepting that it’s there and acting accordingly to get a better grip on it. He still hasn’t outed himself to his father or the world, since he became somewhat famous, because he’s really insecure about it changing the way people will look at him.  That’s probably what he could use good advice on these days. He knows, somewhere, that he should out himself, that it is a fantastic thing to do, in his position, to work towards change. He’s just not quite ready to pay the price and he feels awfully guilty about it. Someone should tell him about all the people he could be representing, but also about how much living his life without hiding anything will free him.

[winchesterandpie]

Unlovable (Eomer x Reader)

Pairing: Eomer x insecure!fem!reader

Word Count: 1,765

Warnings: Insecurities, feeling down, fluffy Eomer

A/N: So, I know I’ve been basically missing all summer and haven’t had time or really motivation to write anything, but I finally did! I went to a friend’s wedding reception and on the way home I had some thoughts similar to the ones here. I don’t think I’m the only one to have wondered these things, so I figured I’d share this. It hasn’t been proofread extensively so please forgive grammatical errors! Hope you enjoy! Gif isn’t mine.

After Eowyn and Faramir’s wedding the Rohirrim rode home, led by our newly crowned king. The ride had been full of celebration, but it had also left a lot of time for thinking, perhaps too much. I may have been a part of the Rohirrim, but my parents had grown weary of waiting for me to marry.

 ‘A young woman of your age,’ they would tell me, ‘should be married, with a child on her hip.’ Often they would speak of the past, remembering when the King’s nephew, Eomer, and I had been close as children. Our parents had thought it might turn to courtship, but then Eomer’s father had died, and he and Eowyn were taken under the wing of King Theoden. Gone were the days where he and I would imagine adventures together, and with them went my parents’ hopes. We’d stayed close, sure, but the only child of commoner parents was unlikely to win the eye of a handsome man who lived in the Meduseld. 

As my parents’ only child, my father had taught me to use a sword and a bow. Sometimes I wondered if he’d regretted it after I joined the Rohirrim. Now, I was battle-scarred both in body and mind, and I had given up hopes of any offers of courtship. Even though I still harbored feelings for Eomer that had never lessened, but rather increased with time, I knew nothing would come of it. 

To be honest, I had made my peace with it, but Eowyn’s wedding stirred up old longings deep in my soul. Not that I begrudged her her happiness - she and I were close, and of course I was ecstatic for her. Nonetheless, the otherwise happy occasion had opened old wounds.

I removed Aesir’s tack more slowly than usual, hindered by an injured arm as well as rushing thoughts. Returning to his stall with a brush, I found myself alone in the stable, except for the company of the horses. 

“Oh, Aesir…” I ran the brush along his neck as I spoke. “What is it about me that makes the men avoid me? They’re perfectly willing to speak to me of battle, and strategy, and horses, but it seems the moment they remember that I am a woman, they want nothing more than to be free of my presence. Eomer… he’s a good friend, and I’ve only grown to love him more as I’ve we’ve grown older… But he’ll never feel the same about me. I fear I’ll always be alone, Ace.” 

The bay horse chuffed quietly, turning his head to rub his muzzle against me, as though reminding me that he was there. It brought a smile to my lips, if only a small one. 

“Yes, I know you’ll be here.” I tousled his forelock playfully before returning to brushing out his coat. “My mum worries for me, though… I think Da does as well, though he’s quieter about it.” Stepping around him carefully, I moved to Aesir’s other side. 

“They always wanted more children, but since I’m the only one they’ve got, they want grandchildren now. Whenever I visit them, it’s the first question Mum asks, ‘have you met anyone special yet?’” I imitated her as best I could, chuckling quietly. The bay shook out his mane in amusement. “My answer’s always the same, though. ‘No, Mum, not yet.’ And then she gets this look in her eye, like she’s disappointed. She’ll always deny it, though, if I say anything.”

“I’m not sure she’s wrong to be disappointed either. After all, I’m twenty-six, and I haven’t got a single prospect in sight. Mum still wants me to pursue Eomer, but that’s a lost cause.” I moved to combing out the tangles from the jet black mane, trying to release all my frustration on the small knots that just wouldn’t come out, trying to keep the tears from building up in my eyes. “I suppose this is what I get for being a Rohirrim, though. Eomer deserves far more than me, especially now that he’s the king, and no other man would look twice at a woman who carries battle scars.”

A single tear slipped free, and like bursting floodgates, many more followed. I was glad to be alone in the stables then, as I wrapped my arms around Aesir’s neck and buried my face in his mane. “Why am I so unlovable?” My voice cracked as I asked the question that had ached in my heart since Eowyn’s engagement to Faramir. The horse tucked his head tighter against my back, returning the embrace as well as he could. 

Then someone cleared their throat, and I immediately shifted away, using Aesir as a sort of shield to hide behind as I tried to wipe the tears away. If it got out to the other Rohirrim that I’d been found crying into my horse’s mane, it would only serve to increase the odds against me ever finding love. 

“Y/n?” Oh no. Of all the people who could have found me, it was none other than Eomer, the new King of Rohan himself. 

“Eom--Your majesty.” I didn’t have much luck drying my eyes, so I only peaked above Aesir’s neck, hoping desperately that Eomer wouldn’t notice their redness. “What brings you to the stables?” Maybe if I acted as though nothing were wrong, he wouldn’t ask. 

“I came seeking the counsel of a friend.” He came towards me as he spoke, stopping just outside the stall. “Instead I find that my friend is troubled.” His brown eyes were kind as they met mine, and I knew I would not be able to brush it off as nothing. 

“How long were you listening?” I asked quietly, my gaze dropping to the straw-covered ground as I crossed my arms in front of me. 

“Long enough,” Eomer replied, shifting uncomfortably for a moment before ducking into the stall to stand in front of me. “Y/n,” he began. 

“It’s alright, you don’t have to say anything.” The tears came even more fiercely then. “Just go, Eomer.”

“What sort of friend would I be if I left you crying in the stables?” He sounded even closer, but I had shut my eyes in a vain effort to slow the tears. A calloused but gentle hand grasped my chin, lifting it so that I would meet his gaze. I sniffled quietly, but it was enough to break the trance he seemed to be in and he quickly enveloped me in his arms. At the unexpected contact, I froze for a moment before the dam broke and I returned his embrace, burying my face in the soft fabric of his shirt.

Eomer just held me without saying anything for a long time, the silence in the barn interrupted only by my muffled sniffles and the horses moving around.  He rested his cheek atop my head, one hand combing through my hair soothingly. Gradually, my tears slowed but I was too embarrassed to stop hiding in his shirt.

“I did not know you thought so little of yourself,” Eomer said carefully. I tensed, afraid of what he would say next.

“I haven’t had much reason of late to think otherwise.” I forced a tiny shrug, trying to sound as composed as I could after bawling into his shirt.

 “Y/n, you are not unlovable.” He said after a long minute, squeezing me more tightly to him. “ You are the bravest person I know, and the scars you carry do not make you any less beautiful. Any man you agreed to court would be the luckiest man in Middle Earth.”

“I don’t deserve you saying such kind things, Eomer.” I twisted out of his embrace, turning back to run my hand over the bay horse beside me, more as an excuse to avoid meeting the blond man’s eyes than anything else. 

“That’s true - you deserve far more than my words, far more than you think you do.” I just shook my head forlornly when he spoke. “And I should’ve said something sooner. You said you’d only grown to love me more over the years, and you’ve thought it to be one-sided, but I’ve done the same thing.”

“Wait, what… what are you saying?” I’m sure my face must’ve shown my surprise, because Eomer chuckled softly. As he stepped toward me, I finally noticed that he’d changed from his armor into a loose green shirt and a pair of comfortable-looking trousers. They certainly fit him well.

“I said,” he paused, placing his hands on either side of my face and brushing away the last of the tears, “I love you.” Slowly, as though giving me time to move away, he leaned his forehead against mine. I relaxed into his touch, my eyes drifting shut. 

“I… I never thought--”

“Neither did I. But we’re here now.” He smiled at me, his eyes lighting up as I returned his grin with a shy one. “And since it took us so long to get here, I’m not sure how much longer I can wait to kiss you.”

“You might… might not have to wait any longer,” I replied, flirted back hesitantly. “If you want, that is.” His smile widened, and I would’ve sworn he could outshine the sun at midday. 

“Yes, I think I’d like that.” Eomer gently tilted my chin up as heat spread across my cheeks. 

My eyes closed just before our lips met. His were softer against mine than I’d imagined, even slightly chapped as they were. He shifted carefully, one hand sliding down to the small of my back, pressing me impossibly close to him. The smell of him--of horses and leather and sun--enveloped me as we kissed. My hand found its way to his hair, playing with the soft blond strands as we broke apart. 

I couldn’t help but giggle a little at my once-distant dream becoming reality. Aesir nickered and shoved us with his head affectionately, reminding us that we were still in the horse’s stall. Eomer’s eyes crinkled up as he chuckled. We ducked out of the stall together, and he kissed me again happily. He pulled away after a brief kiss, only to lift me in his arms and spin me around, laughter bubbling from our lips as he set me down.

“Does your mother really--”

“Yes.” I rolled my eyes at the thought of her ‘advice’ about my love life.

“Well, at least now you have something to tell her,” Eomer said cheerfully, setting his arm around my shoulders as we left the barn. 

“Aye, that I do.”

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

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[iwritefanficion]

Remus Sanders x Reader

Request: Remus, #36: “You’ve shown me what love can feel like.” and 37: “Thank you, for everything.” 

I’m not sure, to whom requested this, if you wanted me to include who you are so I won’t but if you want to be given credit, please tell me and I’ll add you to this. 

Also, I live for fluff, LIVE FOR IT, so thank you, my dear~ Hope this is to your liking. I think this is more gender-neutral but I might add something to make it female.

Warning: Remus, swearing, mentions of death and blood (I promise it’s not what you think).

~

Before you entered Remus’ life, he never knew what it was like to be wanted. He didn’t know what it felt like to have someone want to be around him, be excited when someone saw him. 

He was the unloved brother, the one that everyone hated, that one that made people turn their nose up in the air, disgusted. He never cared, of course, he enjoyed people disliking what he can do. But, that was because he didn’t know the opposite feeling, the feeling you gave him.

You loved him like no one else did. You enjoyed being around him, kissing him, hugging him, cuddling him. You loved everything about him and you never failed to remind him, physically or verbally. 

It was a surprise to him that you’ve lasted this long. One year, to the day. He figured by now you would be repulsed, you would have left, you would want nothing to do with him. But you... didn’t. 

You stayed. 

You loved him. 

And he wanted to show you how much he appreciated you. Especially because it was your one year anniversary. It was small but he still hoped you liked it. He wasn’t really sure what to do, given he’s never been in a relationship before you so he thought a gift would be nice. 

The black box with a sloppy green bow was in his hands, and he couldn’t focus on anything but that. A nagging feeling twisted in his mind along with a nervous churn in his stomach. Would you like it? Would you think it was stupid? Would you laugh at him? 

He didn’t like doubting himself. But, when it came to you, he doubted everything about himself. You were so... perfect! Your laugh, your smile, your body, your kisses, your personality. Everything. Why were you with him?

“Remus, you in there?” Your voice called out from behind his door. He heard the light tap of your knuckles against the wood. Your voice... he should have hated it. It was so sweet and warm, like fresh bakes cookies. But you... you made it work. His heart fluttered when he heard it. 

“Yup! Come on in!” He winced as he heard his own voice. It was so unlike yours. He didn’t do a great job masking his insecurities and he was sure you would ask about it. You always knew if something was bothering him. 

You bounded inside, a bounce in your step. The grin on your face was contagious, and he couldn’t stop the smile that lit upon his lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck as soon as you were close enough. 

Then you were kissing him. Slowly and softly like he was made of glass. Like he needed to be taken care of. Remus adored it. You were never rough with him (unless he asked, of course). 

“Happy anniversary,” you giggled sweetly, noses brushing as you looked up at him. He melted under your gaze. You gazed at him like he was your world like all you ever wanted was right in front of you. As if you didn’t need anything else. 

“Happy anniversary,” he repeated, ducking his head down to your neck and licking a stripe across the skin. You let out a shrieking giggle at the wetness, burrowing into his shoulder. 

Another thing about you. You were never disgusted with anything he did. His ideas, his room, how he acted, what he ate, his type of affection. Nothing bothered you. 

“I got you something,” he said, uncertainty lacing his voice as he held up the box. He hoped you wouldn’t hear how his voice sounded or the way he couldn’t look at you. 

You took the box gingerly, fingers barely brushing his. He knew that your eyes would flicker to him before back down on the box. Remus heard the bow being untied and the box open. 

A small gasp left your lips and his eyes squeezed shut, scared with how you would react. You hated it, didn’t you? You wanted nothing to do with it. He messed up, Fuck, he messed up-

“It’s beautiful,” you muttered in awe. Wait- what?! 

He opened his eyes, watching as you lifted the necklace from the box and gazed at with so much wonder. It was something he made. The pendant on the black chain was a sword wrapped in a green tentacle. 

“I love it,” your eyes met his, and the amount of love expressed on your face was burned into his mind for the rest of his life. You were beaming. Tears welled in your eyes and you threw your arms around him, drawing him into another kiss. 

The kiss was still gentle but nothing short of passionate. He could feel your smile against his lips and your hands in his hair. You broke the kiss sooner than he would have liked. Your voice was a whisper, lips grazing his, “thank you.” 

His grin was one of a relief, an uncharacteristic blush coating his cheeks. He couldn’t believe you liked it. Pride swelled in his chest, knowing he did something right in the relationship. 

“Now everyone will know who you belong to,” Remus muttered seductively, a hint of possessiveness in his tone. He watched you put it on, nimble fingers smoothing over the metal pendant. 

You chuckled at his words, overwhelming joy bright in your eyes. “Everyone already knows that. You make it very clear.” 

Well, that was true. If it wasn’t the constant affection shown than it definitely was the marks he likes to leave. You are never ashamed, you wear them like badges of honour, as much as the others think it’s disgusting. 

“I have a surprise for you,” you changed the subject with a devious grin, one that he instantly liked on you. You took his hands and started pulling toward the exit. 

“Tell me! Tell me, tell me, telllll mmmmeeeee!” Remus whined, impatience getting the better of him. What on earth could you have been planning? He felt the rush of excitement at the mystery of it all, mind thinking of all kinds of nasty scenarios. 

“You’ll see~” you teased, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of his nose before giggling. You dragged him (though he followed enthusiastically, so it wasn’t really dragging) down the hallway of the mind palace, a door he had never seen before at the end. 

Deceit was leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he watched Remus and you venture toward him. Remus wondered why he was there and where the unfamiliar room led to. 

You must have heard what he was thinking because your voice cut through his thoughts. “Dee here was helping me with this little surprise.” 

“Oh, Dee! You’re such a sweetheart~” Remus winked at the deceptive side, making you giggle. Deceit rolled his eyes at the creative side, opening the door for them. 

“Shut up, Remus,” Dee’s voice was oddly fond, “I definitely won’t do this again. So, Y/N, don’t ask anytime.” 

You laughed quietly. “Thanks, Dee, I owe you.”

When the two of you entered the room, it was dark. But it smelled like blood and sweat, the air was dry and humid. Where the hell were they...?

You freed one of your hands to move back what looked like curtains and sunlight shined through. Sunlight. From the sun. No artificial light. He squinted, following you into the light. 

When he saw where he was, he was speechless. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the scenery ahead of him. He was in an arena, one that looked like something from a Gladiator movie, a circular coliseum with sandy ground. They were close enough to the ground to see clearly but high enough that they sat above anyone who would be down there.

“You didn’t,” the realization dawned on him why he was there. 

“I did~” you said in a sing-song voice, smiling like an idiot in love as you watched his face turn more and more excited. 

Remus let out a noise from the back of his throat, picking you up and spinning you around, lips capturing yours in a searing kiss. You chuckled against his lips, hands resting on the crooks of his neck. He was so lucky, fuck was he lucky that he had you. 

“Let the bloodshed begin!” Remus cackled, setting you down on the ground. Then he plopped himself on the seat, leaning over the ledge, eyes wide and bright as he waited. 

You sat next to him, resting your head on his shoulders. With a snap of your fingers, twelve armed warriors appeared in the ring. Both men and woman, each muscled, tall and armed to the teeth. They all looked like they could rip someone to shreds with their bare hands. 

Remus clapped excitedly, eyes trained on the unfolding scene in front of him. Somewhere close, a gong went off, and all the warriors leaped at each other, weapons brandished. 

Different fights waged on. Blood poured onto the sand, staining it. The metallic aroma in the air intensified, and he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose to take it all in. Remus was cheering but not for anyone, in particular, mostly just for everyone to die a brutal and painful death. 

You were less interested in the fight. You were staring at Remus, love reflecting deep within your eyes. Despite him enjoying all the violence and bloodshed, there was a certain beauty to him that you adored. Absentmindedly, you touched the necklace, warmth blooming through your chest as your fingers traced over the pendant. 

When there was a winner on the battlefield, the bodies of their opponent laying around them. The winner disappeared in a puff of smoke, the bodies following. 

“Again! Again!” Remus sounded like a child, clapping and jumping in his seat. 

You couldn’t stop the grin on your face from widening. You kissed his cheek, loving the way he got excited over something most people would hate. He was adorable. 

“Of course, love,” you whispered against his skin, “anything for you.” 

More fights went on. Over and over. The two of you spent your anniversary there, not that either of you minded. You were spending time with him, that’s all that mattered to you. But, as soon as Remus started growing tired, the two left to go back to his room. 

Once there, you stole one of his shirts to use as pyjama’s, as he stripped down to his boxers. Then you both started cuddling in his bed, black and green sheets wrapped around the two of you. 

“Happy anniversary,” you whispered lovingly, kissing his forehead. Your arms were around him, as his were around you. “I hope you had a wonderful day, my love.”

“I did,” he burrowed into the crook of your neck, warm breath fanning your skin. Contentment settled in his chest, a pleasuring heat spreading through his body. “Thank you, for everything.”

“Awe, it wasn’t a problem. I’m just glad you enjoyed your-”

“No, no,” he cut you off, moving his head so he could properly lock eyes with you. His eyes were soft, as was his smile. “I mean, everything. Y/N, you’ve shown me what love can feel like. Thank you for everything you’ve done, thank you for loving me.” 

Your mouth was agape as you struggled to find the right words. Tears welled in your eyes, an overwhelming crash of emotions falling on you. You weren’t expecting that confession, that much was obvious. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” you finally managed to say, voice heavy with feeling, “you deserve it, Remus. It’s a pleasure having you in my life, and being able to love you like I do.”

Then you kissed him once more, kissing him desperately, pouring out your heart to him. You hoped he felt it, all the love and adoration you put into it. All the pride knowing the two of you were together. It was a final way of showing just how much you loved him. 

~

Wow, okay. Not what I was expecting to write at first but I think it came together nicely. I hope you lovely people enjoyed it! I love Remus, so writing this kind of fluff for him is heart-warming.