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builtbybrokenbells · 1 year ago

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Partners In Crime

The cure for heartbreak is truth, but what do you do when the truth is the source of heartbreak itself?

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader, f!reader x OC

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: angst, heartbreak, unrequited love, mentions of cheating/cheating, lots of pining and yearning, unreturned feelings, self doubt, anxiety, anger, depression, marriage/weddings, breakups, crying, mentions of blood/bleeding, being left at the altar, self sabotage, self doubt, eloping, kissing, confessing feelings, drinking, swearing, childhood friends to lovers, sorry if i miss any!

some Jake angst bc i guess I’m not suffering enough right now. much love, hope you guys enjoy 🤍

Jake’s POV

A rose, so strikingly beautiful in its own simplicity. The petals, blood red with intent to steal attention, surrounded by pillowy emerald leaves to frame the picture of her. The smell, sickeningly sweet. The perfume could choke you, suffocate you with its fragrant aura all whilst convincing you that you were okay, and that it would never hurt you. The silk of the petal against the skin of your fingertips, soft and inviting, forever making you wonder how anything could ever be so easy to love.

And then the hand slips, tumbling recklessly past the flowing leaves and grazing over the violent stem. The thorns, the only protection for the beauty above, sticking into your skin as the aching pain begins to spread. Crimson, not just from the leaves, now flows effortlessly from the wound produced by the one thing you’d fallen hopelessly for, reminding you that sometimes, not even love is enough to spare you from the hurt.

The skin, barely even broken, makes you wonder if you were even harmed at all, or if it was a figment of your own imagination, showing you the plausible outcome as it begged you to take a step back. As you brought your hand to the high quality wool of your suit jacket, swiping away the memory of your injury, you knew it could not be false. It hurt too badly to be anything but true, for even dreams did not sting quite the same. As you raise your fist to the oak door, one fancier than you’ve ever seen before, the ache suddenly spreads far beyond the tip of your finger, settling deep in your chest and wrapping around your spine as you wait for an answer.

Not even a shuffle is heard from the other side, and you wonder if maybe you should walk away, or if knocking was a good idea at all. You wonder if she’s in there, weepy-eyed with a smile while she stares at her reflection in the mirror and a dozen hands worked to zip up the back of her dress. You wonder what the dress looked like, if it was intricately beaded or plastered with lace, or maybe it was a silk slip that screamed elegance that matched her entirety.

You need not wonder, because wondering was never something you had to do on her behalf. You knew her, and you knew her better than the back of your hand. More than that, you were certain you had studied her far beyond what you’d ever known about the rosewood fret of your SG. You knew she was in the room, dressed perfectly in white lace extending down to her wrists, cascading delicately to the floor behind her as she walked. Her hair was twisted up, the loose pieces by her face hanging down to accentuate the warmth of her cheeks, just like always. Her hands, perfectly manicured and searching too busy themselves as she tried her best not to break a nail or chip away at the polish. She was tapping one foot against the ground, her heart beating so hard in her chest you could nearly hear it from the hallway, but despite her anxiety, she held a soft, warm smile on her lips.

She was not an open book, but you’d dedicated a lifetime to knowing her. Months and miles could separate you, and you would find her again the exact same as how you left her. Sometimes, things never changed, and thankfully, she was one thing that never wavered.

You knew her so well, and seeing her after so much time away, the same picture as you’d seared in your mind every night alone in a hotel room, was always comforting. It wrapped you in a blanket of warmth, filling your heart with so much love it might burst from your chest. She was everything, and she reminded you of that fact every time she graced you with her presence.

Unfortunately, her company often came with more than just that.

When the door opened, revealing the picture you’d already created in your mind, you were reminded of that fact worse than ever before.

“Jake?” She breathed, her lips glossy and her eyes sparkling to match. Her hair was twisted up, just as you’d imagined it would be, dazzling with a clip covered in gems. The soft locks of hair hung around her face, the same ones she could never seem to get a handle on. This time, it was purposeful, and you knew she’d given in to the lack of control rather than fighting it. “I can’t believe you made it.” The smile on her face was striking, but as breathtaking as it was, it hurt worse than it helped your aching heart.

“You didn’t really think I would miss your big day?” You forced the words out, wondering why you couldn’t just appreciate the moment rather than dread the future. You extended your arm, holding out the flower, you realized it had nothing on her. As beautiful as you once believed it was, seeing her stand in front of you dressed in the wedding gown and dolled to perfection, you knew nothing could ever hold a candle to her. Not even the blood red petals and the emerald leaves.

No, especially not something as simple as that.

“Here,” you said, watching her gaze down upon the single flower held in your hand. “Figured there would be lots of white today, so maybe some color would break up the monotony a bit.” Another smile graced her lips, so big the apples of her cheeks would start to ache if she held it for any amount of time.

You wanted to see her smile, so why did it hurt so much?

More than that, why did it hurt so bad to love something that was so easy to fall in love with?

“You always know what to say, Jacob.” She whispered, grabbing it from your grasp, her eyes never straying from the ruby red petals. “I never should have doubted you.” It looked a million times better in her hands than it ever did it yours, and you couldn’t help but notice the thorns never once thought to prick her skin, fearful of harming something so beautiful.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” You chuckled, finding the ache ease the more she spoke. The soft sound hit your ears, quickly making itself the most important thing in the entire room. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.” And it was the truth, even if you knew you shouldn’t be saying it. “Not that you don’t look beautiful every day.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, finally looking up to catch your eye. She held the stare for a moment, and just like every other time, you could have sworn there was something there, something deeper than the surface level shit the two of you were spewing to each other.

If there was, you were still a coward, and when you thought about addressing it, your palms broke into a sweat and your stomach twisted in a knot.

Maybe if you had found the courage all those years ago, you’d never be standing before her now, watching her get married. Maybe, you would be the one waiting to marry her.

“Do you want to come in?” She asked, her eyes flickering past you, settling on the wallpapered drywall in the hallway. She blinked a few times, seemingly trying to bring herself back to reality. You wanted to ask, but you were afraid of the answer.

“F’course. Think we’ve got some catching up to do.” Catching up before she could never be bothered to think of you again, is what you should have said. After all, it was the truth, no matter how badly it hurt.

“Definitely.” She let out a giggle, throwing the door open and stepping back. As soon as you let yourself move forward, you felt like you were punched in the stomach. In the air lingered a perfume you’d spent a lifetime trying to forget. It was the sweetest smell that you’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing. You’d spent nights with your head buried under the covers, your lips ghosting the skin of other women to try and drown the memory of her, but it never worked. When you woke in the morning, you always seemed to yearn for the same thing. Everything paled in comparison, soured just by the knowledge that something so special existed. “Everything got pushed back a little bit, but I’m trying not to panic. The day is still good, we’re here, we’re happy, even if it is a little bit later than expected.”

Happy.

Bold choice of words, sweetheart.

“What happened?” You asked, your eyes floating around the room, taking in everything it had to offer. Bridal suites were always so feminine, divine in their own special way. Billowy curtains, a stunning aerial view of the yard, porcelain white bathrooms and neat towels folded at every corner. It was perfect, everything in place, but it wasn’t her. Although she was perfect and pristine at first glance, she loved mess. For her entire life, she’d strewn clothes across the floor, leaving water bottles behind wherever she went. She loved nature, the feeling of earth on her skin and sand between her toes. Many times you’d walk in on her, paint covering her clothes and splattered on her face because she tried to repaint her bedroom all on her lonesome.

She was perfect in her chaos, and it was one of the very things that made you love her in the first place.

You wondered if her soon to be husband loved her for the very same things. You didn’t know him, nor did you know much about him. When you talked, it was never about him, but rather the life you two once dreamed of building together. Your job had taken you away from home, away from her, and as much as you missed her, you were grateful you never had to watch her fall in love with someone else. At the same time, it made you uneasy, unsure if you could watch your best friend fall into the arms of a man you knew nothing about. You dreaded the idea that he did not love her for those quirks, and that in your time away, his subjective love had made her change.

You looked to the bed, where she would have slept the night before, noticing the sheets pulled from the corners and the pillows nearly falling off the sides. The bag that once protected her dress was flipped inside out, thrown carelessly across the foot of the bed and long forgotten. A sadness washed over you, knowing that he did love her the same way. Then, you felt guilty for being sad at all; you should be jumping for joy that such a wonderful woman was being loved the way she deserved.

Even so, you could not shake the feeling of knowing you could love her better than anyone ever had, if she’d just give you the chance.

Then again, how could she ever give you a chance when you had always been too afraid to ask?

“No point in getting into it. Doesn’t matter now, does it?” She said, her tone light and the look in her eyes far away. You took a step towards the window, taking a long look outside. Rows of chairs were placed in the large field, the pond in the background decorated with lily pads and the birds sat upon trees in the distance singing love ballads. You wanted to be happy, but your stomach felt like it was filled with lead and your bones were heavy with the weight of your grief.

Tell her.

“It is important, sweetheart. It’s always important, to me at least.” Of course you could not tell her. Every time you thought about voicing your love for her, your throat closed around the words and your tongue petrified. Your heart raced, your whole body vibrating with the intensity of the emotion you felt for her, yet sentenced to a lifetime of never being able confess your sins.

Loving her in itself was not a sin, but by god did it feel like one. It was your biggest secret, and your largest skeleton in the closet. It loomed over your head wherever you went, and it clung to the fibers of your being no matter how hard you tried to shake it off. At five years old, with mud streaked cheeks and grass stains on your knees, you loved her the same. At twelve, with cracking voices and awkward statures, you still thought she was the most beautiful thing in the whole world. At eighteen, when you were lucky enough to bring her as your date to senior prom, you swore you would never feel the same for another woman, and you still hadn’t. Just a few days ago, thousands of miles away, she was the only thing you wanted. With her wedding invitation folded in your wallet, her name in your phone with a heart beside it despite the years being unkind to your friendship, she was the only thing you ever wanted to come home to.

“No, because if I talk about it, I’ll psych myself out again.” At that, a spark of hope ignited in your chest.

“Again?”

“Yeah,” she chuckled, looking out at the yard too. A few guests were sat already, preparing for the main event. The event in which would forever haunt you. “I mean, it’s my wedding, the biggest day of my life. I think it’s normal to be anxious?” She posed it like a question, like she wanted you to tell her she was wrong, but you couldn’t. If you were to have her, it wouldn’t be like this. It wasn’t fair to ruin this for her for your own selfish purposes.

“Talk me through it, maybe I can help.” You offered. She took a seat on the edge of the bed, gentle and quiet as she smoothed out the skirt of her dress.

“I didn’t picture it like this.” She whispered, looking towards the floor. “I always thought I’d wake up on the morning of my wedding day, and I’d be overjoyed. I-I mean, I am, just not the way I thought I would be. I woke up, and it was cloudy outside. The sun’s not even shining, Jake.” You wanted to sit beside her, to pull her into your arms and tell her the sun was not shining because he was not the man she was supposed to marry, but you didn’t. Instead, you stood there, yearning to be the one who she was excited yet nervous to marry. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter.” She huffed, shaking her head at herself.

“Stop it, you always do that.” You said, stepping towards her. She looked up at you, noticing you were closer than before. Her stare paralyzed you, ensuring you could not progress any further. “You always act like how you feel isn’t important, but it is, Y/N. To me, it is.”

“But it’s not, Jake. I just have the jitters. Once I get out there and say my vows, it’ll be better. I know it will be.”

How do you know?

How does she know that when the curtain closes and the sun draws near the earth, that she’ll be happy with her decision? How does she know that even under the warm golden hue on the earth as it prepares for the night, the uncertainty would flee? How does she know that she won’t decide he’s not the one for her, only after it’s too late?

“If you say so, sweetheart.” You nod, biting back a sorrowful smile. She was looking at you, studying you, waiting for you to say something else. You wondered if she was waiting for you to say the very thing you’d sworn yourself to secrecy about.

Of course she didn’t. She was getting married, and not to you.

Still, there was this hint of hope in her eye you couldn’t help but pick up on. It was the same hope that you so often felt when you were with her.

“Anyway, enough about me and my woes… how was Europe? I’m sure much more exciting than consoling a pitiful bride.”

Never.

You would console her every minute of every day and you would never get tired of it, nor would you wish to be anywhere else. She was what you wanted, no matter the circumstance. You wanted her for all she was, the sadness, happiness and anger combined. You didn’t want her on technicalities nor did you want only the good parts. You loved her so dearly that you’d even take the worst from her, if that was all she was ever willing to give you.

“It was good,” You cleared your throat as you spoke, finding a lump steadily growing within it.

“That’s it?” She forced a chuckle out, clearly picking up on your distance. “Give me more than that. How can I live vicariously through you if that’s all you have to say about it?” There was humour in her tone, but she meant what she said. She still wanted to be there with you.

“Yeah, it was good.” You nodded, feigning a little more excitement. “It’s beautiful there.”

“Was it everything we ever dreamed of?” The simple question hit you like a brick, the sheer weight of her words nearly making you double over in pain. Suddenly, you were sixteen again, crowded in her tiny bedroom and sharing a comforter on her twin mattress. The air was chilly and the lights were dim, your bodies close, but never as close as you wanted to be. Laughter hung thick in the air, keeping you warm just as well as the blanket as you talked about dreams and fears of the future.

Out of all the fears, you never seemed worried about her not being a part of your biggest dreams.

Maybe you had been scared of all the wrong things.

“You would have loved it, Angel.” You confessed, looking away from her so you did not have to see the sadness on her face. “I wished you were with me every step of the way.”

“I should have went,” she whispered, pain clear in her voice the same as it was in your own. “In the beginning, I should have went with you when you asked. Maybe we could have done all the things we used to talk about.”

“You still can.” The words slipped out effortlessly, and you wished you could take them back. The sentiment hung heavy in the air, both of you knowing the meaning was much deeper than it seemed. “I mean… You know, you can always come visit, see the sights and stuff.” Your cover up was pathetic, but it was the best you could do in the moment.

“You guys still want me there?” She asked, surprising you with her intrigue. You’d expected a blunt rejection, but she was humouring your ideas. You turned to look at her again, unable to keep your eyes off of her. A small smile blossomed on your lips, a real one that could only be accredited to her.

“Y/N, there’s not a day that goes by that we don’t want you there with us.” It was the truth, even if it was heavy. She took in a long breath, looking down at her attire for a moment before catching your eye again.

“I think about it more than I should.” She admitted, shy about still living within that same daydream whilst oblivious to the fact that you’d never left it. Your heart fluttered at the idea of her still thinking about spending her days with you, sharing hotel rooms and building a new life together, away from your hometown, away from him. “Come sit with me?” She asked, hopeful that you would oblige.

Josh had told you not to walk into the building, not to knock on her door with sad eyes and a broken heart. At the time, you thought he was ridiculous for suggesting such a thing, knowing you needed to see her. Now that she was looking at you, more beautiful than ever, you knew he was right. It was a bad idea to come, and a worse idea to sit beside her when you knew it would do nothing but break your heart further. As you stepped towards the bed, sitting next to her, you just hoped that you would not break her heart the same as you were breaking your own.

You were still, staring forward instead of turning your body towards her like you so badly wanted to. Then, without warning, her hand reached out for yours, settling so cautiously over the back of your hand. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, just as wonderful as it was all of those years ago. You could not remember the last time anything felt so good.

Tell her.

“I’m really glad you came, Jake.” She said, quiet as a mouse as if her confession was a crime.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetheart. You know that.”

“I do,” She agreed, but it was strained. “It’s just… been so long since I’ve seen you. I was worried I might not be as important to you anymore.”

She wanted to be important to you. Even now, when she was minutes away from being someone else’s, she would always be a little bit yours.

She had never been yours, but in some strange way, you both had the inkling that she was.

“You’ll always be important to me, angel.” You said, feeling her perfume begin to suffocate you. It was lethal, but you knew if you walked away, you would beg to come back just to die at her hands. “Do you remember when we were kids and you used to dream about this day? How I always told you I’d be here to hold your hand through it, just so you don't get scared and run away?”

“Yeah,” she let out a small laugh, but her mind was far away. You wondered what she was thinking, and you wondered if you even wanted to know. As terrible as it was, you hoped she was thinking about you. “How tightly can you hold my hand?” She asked, her tone airy and light, like she wheezed the words past her lips.

“What?” You asked, keeping the smile on your face as you turned your head to look at her. There was something unfamiliar in her eyes.

She was afraid.

For the first time in your life, you had to swallow the fact that the bravest person you knew was afraid of the future. No matter the circumstances, she had always been prepared. Even when your bags were packed and you held a plane ticket in your hand, ready to fly away from everything you’d ever known, away from her, she was not scared. You were terrified, tears in your eyes with shaking hands, but she never wavered and instead, encouraged you to follow your dreams. She kissed your cheek and hugged you tight, reassuring you that you could do anything you put your mind to.

If that was true, you would be able to say the words.

Jesus Christ, Jacob. Tell her. Time is running out.

You felt panicked, waiting for her to respond. You needed to say the words, but they were stuck in your throat again. You didn’t want to lose her, but your own cowardice was seeing that through.

“I want to run.”

Please, Y/N, run away.

Don’t do this.

“Why, sweetheart? I thought this was what you wanted? You looked so happy in the pictures on the invitation.” Convincing her to leave would be selfish, and she needed you to be selfless. You would be anything she needed, even if it was not what you wanted. “Is… is he good to you?”

“Oh, yeah.” She nodded, solemn in her answer. “He’s great.”

“…but?”

“But, I don’t think he’s what I want.” The words were like a breath of fresh air, a million pounds lifted off your shoulders. You were so featherlight that you felt like you were floating away. Hearing her say it was a relief, but it did not stop you from feeling guilty about it. “Everyone said it was okay to be nervous, but I don’t think it’s normal to doubt it. My mom said she was nervous to marry my dad, but she was so certain he was what she wanted. I’m… I’m not. I don’t know if I’m ready to give up my freedom, my last name. I don’t know if I can commit to him for a lifetime, because I can barely even commit to him right now.”

You wanted to ask. You needed to know if that meant what you thought it did.

Fucking tell her.

“I woke up today sick to my stomach, and it hasn’t stopped. I’m sitting here, and… ugh, fuck.” She groaned, her free hand flying to her forehead in exasperation. “I’m the worst, Jake. He’s so good to me, and I just… I don’t want him to be. The last few months, I’ve been waiting for an excuse to leave. If I do and nothing changes, then I’m the bad guy, and I don’t want that. It’s just… I love him, but I’m not in love, I don’t think. It’s boring, and every day is the same. When you’re in love, boring is nice, but this boring is just… boring.”

“Keep talking.” You encouraged, knowing that no matter which way it went, she needed to speak her mind.

“He doesn’t want to do anything. We don’t go anywhere, we don’t go on dates. We just sit at home and stare at each other. It’s been months since we��ve had fun, and I don’t know if I want a lifetime without fun. Even today… I didn’t want this. The big ceremony and the expensive dinner… it’s not me. I hate it, and he thinks I love it.”

You knew it wasn’t her, but you wanted to believe that she was the one who picked it. Hearing her say it broke your heart, knowing that this was not what she dreamed of when you two were kids. It was not what you wanted for her, either.

“I kicked my bridesmaids out because I needed time alone to calm down, and I thought it would work being away from the wedding stuff for a minute. I guess it did, but it wasn’t in the way I hoped it would be.” You reached into your suit jacket, your fingers searching for the inside pocket. They closed around the cool metal, pulling it from its hiding place as you extended your arm towards her. You knew you would need it to get through the day, but you didn’t expect her to need it, too. She looked down at the flask, her lips quirking into a soft smile. She grabbed it from you, placing her painted lips against the opening and throwing her head back.

“I’m your best man, y/n. I need to know if you want me to hold your hand so you’ll stay, or if you want me to start the car so we can get you out of here.”

“Don’t give me that option.” She chuckled, shaking her head as the whiskey burned her chest. Her cheeks turned rosy in reaction to the alcohol, reminding you she was still the same girl she was all of those years ago.

“Why, ‘cause you’ll take it?” You challenged.

“Yeah,” She nodded, answering without hesitation as she watched you take a sip, too.

“Then that’s your answer, doll. Don’t force yourself to stay when all you want to do is run. You feel that way for a reason.” Suddenly, convincing her to leave was no longer your best interest, but hers, too. You did not care what happened outside of the room so long as she was happy, and it appeared to you that she would not be so long as she stayed.

It just so happened to be the option that would make you the happiest, too.

“Thought you were supposed to hold my hand and make me stay? That’s what I always told you to do.”

What if I don’t want to do that?

“Is that what you want?” You asked, noticing your hand still held tightly in her own. She didn’t seem to want to let go.

“No… maybe? I don’t know.” She sighed.

“I always promised I’d do what’s best for you, Y/N, and if holding your hand and making you stay isn’t what you want, I don’t know if I can do it.”

Tell her.

“Would you hold my hand and help me run away?”

“That’s what best friends do, is it not?” You grinned, taking another sip from the flask.

“A best friend would tell me I’m insane, I think.”

“Right,” you give a slow nod, chuckling to yourself. “We’ve always been more like partners in crime, I think.”

“I’d say.” She laughed, nodding with you. “I missed you, Jake.” Your hand tightened over hers, your heart beating a million miles a minute. She held your stare, again adorning that same hopeful glimmer.

Is this what she wanted, or were you only seeing it in such a way because you wanted it so badly? Was she dropping you hints, or were you crazed by how dearly you loved her? Worst of all, should she actually run, or were you encouraging it because you couldn’t stand the thought of her staying?

“I missed you too, sweetheart. More than you know.”

“I feel good, Jake. Better than I have all day.” She confessed, intertwining your fingers with her own and rubbing her thumb over the back of your hand.

“Maybe you just needed to get it out and get on with your day?” You offered, saddened at the thought.

“No,” she shook her head, her voice quiet again. “It’s ‘cause you’re here. Been looking forward to today, but I think the only reason why is because I knew you’d be here.”

Love could not begin to describe how you felt for her, especially after hearing her say such things.

“Is that bad? I’m more excited to see you today than my future husband.” She said, her face plagued with guilt and her beautiful smile fading into a frown. In an instant, your hesitancy faded and you reached your hand out to cup her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, relief showering the both of you. Touching her felt like finally being home after a nasty bout of homesickness. You ran your thumb over her cheek, the makeup littering her skin not even thinking of smudging under your touch.

She was not the thorny rose that hurt you. She was not a beautiful thing that hurt to love. She was the petals, beautiful and breathtaking, and you were the thorn drawing your own blood.

Not once in this lifetime had she ever hurt you. You had become the one who was an expert at harming yourself. In that moment, the ache in your chest had nothing to do with how easy she was to love, and everything to do with the fact you had always been too scared to say it aloud. Relationships with others and miles between you could not dampen the adoration you felt for her, but that was not her fault. If only you had the strength to tell her, maybe the hurt would ease for both of you.

“I want to have fun with him, like the two of us used to have. I want every minute to seem easy, like it does with us, but it isn’t. It’s hard more than it’s ever been simple, and I don’t think that’s how I want to live my life.”

Was she saying it? Were you hearing the words you’d forced yourself to hold back? Was she saying everything you had been feeling all this time?

Tell her, Jacob.

“Even if I do change my mind, I’ve been in here all day saying these terrible things. How can I go out there and marry him after doubting it so much?”

She wanted you to answer her questions, but it was a dead end for both of you. If you encouraged it, it would be an admission of betrayal for her. You were her best friend, the one person who promised not to hurt her. If you encouraged her to run, you might be hurting her far more than it would help her. If you told her to stay, you were faced with the haunting feeling that both of you would look back on this moment and regret the decision.

“Answer this,” you said, keeping your gaze on her as you spoke. “In thirty years, if you marry him today, will you regret staying? Or if you leave, will you look back in thirty years and feel like you made a mistake?”

“I-I can’t answer that Jake. I don’t know.” There was a glossy look in her eye, one that spoke volumes. It was louder than any word she had spoken thus far. The fear and hesitation was clear in her face, and you wanted to comfort her, but you did not know how.

When you got on that plane, flying home to her, you never expected to be faced with such a situation. You never expected to feel hopeful about today, especially after you had spent so many months dreading it.

“I guess… it would be easier to regret leaving than regret staying, right?” She breathed. “If I stay, I’m wasting thirty years. If I leave, I can spend that time learning to love life in other ways, and maybe I’ll never think it was a mistake at all.”

“Right,” You nodded, looking back out the window, noticing people filling chairs. Your heart dropped to your stomach, wondering if she would follow through with her thoughts, or if she would stay out of obligation. Could you keep her occupied for long enough so she could come to the right decision? “I can’t tell you what to do, sweetheart, but I can support whatever you decide.”

“Will… will you take me to Europe with you?” She asked, her eyes pooling with unshed tears. “You’re going back, right? I-I… I want to do what we talked about. I want to travel the world Jake, with you.” She stammered out, as if she couldn’t believe her own words. “I know I sound crazy, I know I do, but I’m not. You’re… you’re my whole world, the only thing that’s ever made sense to me. You’re my best friend, and there’s so many things we promised that we never got to do. I don’t want to miss out on that, or be stuck in my hometown knowing I made a mistake by letting you walk away again.”

“Y/N,” You warned, wondering if she realized the extent of what she was telling you. Suddenly it all became real, and it was much larger than the fantasy you had been living in since you sat down beside her.

Josh was right, and you were breaking your own heart by entertaining an impossible idea.

“No, don’t tell me I’m wrong. I dont want to hear it.” She shook her head, silently pleading with you to be honest with yourself just for one second.

She felt it too. You have to tell her.

“Jake, take me to Europe. I want to see the world. I want to be with you again, and Josh and Sam, and Danny too. I want that more than I’ve ever wanted this. I don’t want to wait a year before I see you again and… I just, I can’t.” She was saying it in every way she knew how, without having to say the actual words aloud. “He’s not the person I should be marrying, Jake.”

You wanted to tell her everything, how you wanted it even more than she did, but it was not right. She was nervous, second guessing because of cold feet on the biggest day of her life. You could not take her away from this and ruin everything. You could not take her away and have her regret choosing you. Making her unhappy would be the biggest mistake of your life, and you would never be able to repent from it.

“Listen to me,” you said, taking her face between your hands, gentle and telling of all the love you had for her. “You wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t right, sweetheart. You are the most self-assured, smart, and level-headed person I know, and right now, this isn’t you. You’re getting married, angel. You’re going to go outside and walk down the aisle and steal everyone’s breath away, because you are the most beautiful thing that’s ever graced this earth. You’re getting married, and you’re going to be happy. I promised you I’d be here to hold your hand so you couldn’t run, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Jake,” she protested, her bottom lip quivering as tears threatened to spill onto her cheeks. “What happened to whatever I decide? What happened you supporting me no matter what? Why would you let me say all of that just to tell me I’m wrong?”

“Maybe I lied,” you whispered, swiping away a stray tear. “Trust me when I say, I want you to come with us so badly, but I don’t want you to regret it. Right now, I think you will.”

“I won’t, Jake. Been thinking about it since you got on the plane last time. Every time, really.” She shook her head, panic beginning to set it. More tears made an appearance, and you did your best to wipe them away as soon as they fell.

You loved her enough to do what was best, even if it killed you to do it.

“Don’t cry, angel. Only happy tears, today.” You hummed, pulling her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around you, holding you as if her life depended upon it. You held her just the same, knowing she had no idea how much it meant to you to have her in your arms. She had no idea how much it meant to you that she wanted to go with you, instead.

That was the reason you had to make her stay, though. You could not in good faith allow her to run away, because deep down, the motive would always be just a little bit selfish.

“I love you, Jake.” She said it with so much conviction that it was hard to ignore. She said it like a confession, rather than a fact.

“I love you, sweetheart.” And yours was a confessional statement too, even if she did not realize it. Just as the words left your lips, a knock sounded on the door. It forced the two of you apart, even if it was painful for the both of you. You brought your thumb to her face again, carefully swiping away the specs of mascara that had fallen. Her sadness plagued her, but it did not stand in the way of her beauty. Once she was back in perfect condition, you urged her to answer the door.

She stood, white gown flowing angelically behind her as her fingers wrapped round the golden doorknob. She pulled it open, now face to face with her mother, who was so busy jittering with excitement she failed to notice the grief written across her daughters face. She looked in the room, her eyes landing on you and widening with a joyous shock, happy to see you had made the occasion.

Would her mother be this happy if she knew you almost ruined her daughters big day?

She barely uttered a greeting before turning back to the girl you loved so dearly. “It’s time, sweetheart. Your dad is waiting outside. Are you ready?”

Are you ready? The question pounded in your ears like a drum, louder with every passing moment.

Is she ready?

Are you ready?

Tell her, Jake.

She looked back at you over her shoulder, stunning and breathtaking as if she was waiting for you to answer for her. Her mother watched you, only slightly concerned about the tension in the air.

“She’s ready.” You forced a smile, nodding your head. Her eyes caught yours as she pleaded with you to stop, to stop everything and stay in the room with her for just a little while longer.

She wanted you, the same as you wanted her, but you were not good for her. You were just the thing that was standing in the way of her forever. If it was meant to be, it would have happened all of those years ago.

Right?

Tell her.

“Will you walk with me?” Her voice, sweet as honey and smooth as silk, settled deep somewhere in your heart with no intent to leave. Would you walk with her? Could you handle such heartbreak?

“Of course, sweetheart.” You nodded, taking a stand. You straightened out your jacket, drawing in a long breath as reality began to take hold.

This was it. The very thing you’d had nightmares about your entire life. The love of your life, vowing to love someone else for the rest of hers.

Her mother straightened her hair for her, running a soft hand over the line of her shoulders where lace met soft skin. She ensured she was pristine, not a thread out of place before kissing her cheek and promising to meet her out there. She looked at you only, her gaze never faltering.

She wanted you, Jacob. Only you.

Her mother disappeared, leaving the two of you alone in heavy silence once again. It felt like weights were tied around your ankles, holding you there and sentencing you to an eternity spent in limbo.

Tell her.

“Let’s go, angel.” You said, taking a step towards her. Her eyes, pleading again, but her mouth did not move. She stood, stoic and statue-like. She was petrified from her own heart, unsure if she could take the heartbreak of having you give her away.

“Okay.” She whispered, her throat scratchy and her hands trembling. She reached out to you, the action telling you she still needed you to hold her hand and make her stay. You grabbed on to it, lacing your fingers together once more, unable to ignore how right it felt. “Please stay with me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of leaving you.” Your chest was tight, burning with rage towards yourself. Why couldn’t you do it? Why were you biting your tongue if it was only hurting the both of you more? You swore yourself to secrecy, letting yourself believe that the truth was more painful than silence, but that was no longer true. The truth would set you free, and possibly even allow you to love the one thing you never allowed yourself to have.

The hallway was barren, but voices were in the distance. Happy, bubbly, excited. The echoes were the exact opposite of the emotion hanging between you two. She should feel that way. Why didn’t she feel that way? She was happy before you showed up, stealing the light from her eyes even on her biggest day.

Was she, though? Really and truly happy?

You two walked together, the personification of grief becoming you both despite the joy you were supposed to be feeling. When you neared the end of the hallway, you had to stop. The world was spinning, seemingly crumbling before your eyes. Your stomach was sick, your palms sweating and your knees ready to give out under your weight. You couldn’t do it, even if you promised her you would.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, panicked at your sudden loss of confidence.

“I…” you trailed off, looking over her face. “I can’t,” you shook your head.

“You can’t?” You can’t what?” She pressed, anger bubbling inside of her. She needed honesty, and she needed it now. Why couldn’t you muster the strength?

“I can’t go out there.”

tell her.

Tell her.

Tell Her.

Fucking Tell Her, Coward.

“I can’t… I can’t watch you marry someone else.”

The world appeared normal, the sun still desperately trying to peek out from underneath the clouds and the birds still singing their pitiful love songs. The chatter remained in the hallway, unchanged and unbearable. Her hand still rested in your own, and her eyes were still watching you. Your heart was still beating, and your knees did not give way. The same look was on her face, and the glimmer in her eyes never changed.

The world looked the same, but everything was different.

Finally, after a lifetime of holding it back, you told her the truth.

“Why?” She asked, desperate to hear you say it. Her expression was not one of horror, but one of great hopefulness. “Tell me Jake. I need to hear you say it.”

“I love you, Y/N.” You rasped, your own throat dry as your words came out with a nervous wobble. “I can’t watch you marry him, because I’m in love with you.”

“Fuck, Jake.” The words hit you hard, like a knife even though she did not brandish them like a weapon. “Took you long enough, don’t you think?” You we’re too immersed in your own confession to care about her chastise. You opened the flood gates, and now there was no sign of stopping.

“When we were five, I loved you. Way back when we used to make mud pies and play pretend in my parents’ front yard, I wanted to do it with you for the rest of my life. When we were twelve, I loved you. We didn’t know what love meant, but we knew how much we meant to each other. When we were sixteen, making plans in your bedroom to travel the world together, I loved you so much it hurt. Right now, I love you the same as I did then, but even more so, because I know what it means, and I know it’s never going to go away.” You confessed, feeling the weight of the world being lifted from you. “Europe wasn’t everything we dreamed of, because you weren’t there. You weren’t there, Y/N, and I spent every night wishing you were. I came home to watch you get married, but I can’t do it, because I love you too much.”

“I can’t get married, Jake.” She said, looking over her shoulder to ensure nobody was onlooking the situation between you.

“I wanted to encourage you, to make sure you followed through with it because you deserve this life, sweetheart. You deserve the house, the dogs and the expensive ring and fancy wedding venue. You deserve everything, but I was always so afraid I couldn’t give it to you. Right now, I’m afraid that nobody could ever give you what I could, because nobody could ever love another person this way, this much.”

“You give me everything, Jake. You gave me the world when we were five, and you’re giving me the world right now, without even knowing it.” She said, the tears rushing to her eyes again. “I can’t get married to him, because I only ever wanted to marry you.” Her cheeks were damp with her misery, feeling guilty on behalf of a man she did not love nearly half as much as you. “I made this life, this new dream because you left, and I was afraid I’d never get the chance to live out the dream we made when we were kids. I spent all day unsure if I was making the right decision, but you showed up at my door, and now I know that I’m not. Marrying him has never been the right decision, and if I go out there, I’ll be looking for you in the crowd, wishing it was you standing beside me, instead.”

“Make the right decision, then.” You pleaded, knowing you could not make the first move. “Make the right decision, Y/N, because I’ve always been too scared to do it myself. Make the right decision before we lose our chance, please.”

She sprung forward, her hand slipping from yours and instead wrapping around your neck. One hand anchored on her hip and the other cupped her cheek, drawing her into you as she pressed her lips to your own. It was a feeling you’d been waiting a lifetime for, but the daydreams never came close to how it truly felt.

You told her, and she made the right decision, just like it was always meant to be. You’d been so afraid of something you never needed to fear, because she loved you just the same.

You could feel her tears on your cheeks as she pulled away, but the smile on her face contradicted the inkling of sadness that lingered on her skin.

“Happy tears, Jake.” She said, her face still so close to your own. “I’m happy, now. I’m not second guessing it, because I’ve spent the last six months making sure this was how I truly felt. Today was the last piece of the puzzle. You walking in that door made everything make sense. As much as it hurts to leave him here, it would hurt him much more if I married him while I was in love with someone else.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” You said, running your fingertips over the soft skin of her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed again, enamoured with the feeling of you touching her.

“Don’t be,” She shook her head. “I could have said it too, but it doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is we said it now, before it was too late.”

“You’re dad’s gonna kill me.” She let out a laugh, the first genuine one since you got there.

“No, he’ll be fine. He likes you much more than he likes him.” She assured you. “My mom, though, is a different story. She’ll get over it.” She promised, leaning forward and pressing another quick kiss to your lips. “But, if we’re gonna make a break for it, we should go now, before anyone comes looking for us.”

“Right,” You grinned, nodding in response. “Let’s go get your things. I’ll text Josh.”

“He’s here too?” Her face lit up at the knowledge. You nodded, smiling at her joy.

“Everyone is.”

“Oh, god. They’ll be a witness to my craziness.” She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself down. The emotion was high, surging through the both of you like never before.

“Your crazy is mine too, angel.” You said, giving her hip a squeeze. “Partners in crime, remember?”

“Right.” She said, grinning up at you.

Without another word, she led you back towards the suite. You closed the door behind you, giving her just enough time to grab the most important things. You watched her scribble a note down on the back of a wedding invitation, likely an apology for the now ex-fiancé she left hanging. As you watched, you couldn’t help but smile, falling more in love with her by the second and only feeling slightly bad for the man she was leaving behind. He was losing the best girl in the world, but you could not dwell on his loss, because it was your gain. You were walking away with the love of your life, and he was losing a fiancé. You were sure the poor guy could find someone else.

To you, if you lost her, you knew there would never be another. Even before you lost her forever, you knew that to be true.

She turned to you, frazzled but still stunning despite her panic. She had a few things clutched tightly in her hand and a change of clothes in her arms, walking towards you and showing you she was not regretting her choice to leave. If anything, she was over the moon, and you could see it in her eyes. Instead of uncertainty, there was happiness sparkling within the beautiful hue of her irises.

“You want me to take that?”

“Yes please.” She breathed, handing the small items off to you. As you grabbed them, you noticed her finger was now ringless. The shiny diamond was sitting atop the goodbye letter, which was stuck in plain sight. “Tell me I’m not crazy.”

“You’re not.” You assured her. “Like I said, if you are, I am too.”

“I’m okay with being crazy together.” She said, more light in her eyes than ever before.

“The guys are gonna meet us in the lot out back, so you can get out of here without any questions. We can worry about the rest later.”

“Okay,” she nodded, a nervous jitter running through her.

“Hey, we’ll be okay. Do you trust me?”

“More than anything.” She said, certain in her answer.

“Then let’s get out of here.” You grinned, opening the door for her. She was still in her dress, her change of clothes held tightly to her chest. Before she stepped back into the hallway, she kicked off her heels and kissed your cheek as she passed by. As she sprinted down the hallway, your whole body flooded with love, but this time, you did not need to hold it back. After a lifetime of surpressing it, it finally had somewhere to go.

In true crazy fashion, as you sprinted behind her, another idea popped in your head. You wondered if her crazy had run out, or if she was just crazy enough to go along with it.

You thought you ought to try, because the day had been full of pleasant surprises. After all, the worst she could do was say no.

“Hey,” You called out to her, laughing as she looked back at you over her shoulder. “Slow down for a second.” You pleaded, childlike joy reflecting on both of your faces.

“What’s up?” She asked, a little breathless as her feet slowed to a stop. “Please tell me you’re not changing your mind.”

“What? F’course not.” You waved the idea off, knowing it was completely incredulous. “How impulsive are you feeling right now?”

“Considering I just ran away from my own wedding, I’d say very. Why?” She grinned, her fingers lingering over the handle of the back door, ready to flee at a moments notice.

Perhaps she wasn’t impulsive at all, and the idea of staying was harder for her than trying to leave. She was waiting for you to ask, all of this time. Even as she forced herself to marry someone else, all she ever wanted was you.

“Why waste the dress?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. She watched you for a moment, stunned at your words and unsure if she understood.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you began, checking over your shoulder to ensure nobody was looking for her. “Why waste the expensive dress? Marry me instead.” Her eyes widened, but she did not look horrified at the prospect. “I mean, come on. You’re in a wedding dress, I’m in a suit, I can buy flowers anywhere, and I want to be with you so bad I was willing to object the whole thing in the middle of your vows. If it hasn’t changed in twenty years, I’m sure it won’t change tomorrow.”

“A-are you sure? Like, really sure? You won’t regret it in the morning?” She asked, curious if you were in your right mind.

“I wouldn’t regret it in a million years, my love.” You promised. “I promise I’ll do it right, I’ll buy a ring and we’ll do a ceremony when the smoke clears from this disaster.” You both let out a laugh, knowing that’s exactly what it was. “But why waste the dress, especially when we know what we want?”

“Okay, crazy.” She nodded, cracking the door open. “I’ll marry you. Why waste the dress?”

“You mean it?” You followed behind her, noticing the rocks littering the paved lot and her shoeless feet. You reached out, grabbing her arm before she could step outside. She looked at you, then looked down at you taking your shoes off for her to wear. Her cheeks tinged red, a silent thank you dancing in her eyes as she jumped into the shoes that were just a little too large for her. You looked out into the lot, finding your three brothers standing by your car, waiting for you to join them.

“F’course I do, Jake.” She said, giving your hand a squeeze. “Partners in crime, right?” You couldn’t seem to stop the smile from blooming once again.

“Partners in crime.” You confirmed, stepping outside into the warm afternoon air.

“I love you, Jake.” She said, the sun shining down on her beautiful face, illuminating her in the most perfect picture. You wanted to remember this moment forever. “Feels so good to finally say it.”

“I love you, Y/N.” You replied, taking in your surroundings. As you watched the sunlight shine over her face, your heart soared with affection. “Look,” you said, catching her attention. First, she looked to you, then followed your finger to the sky, where she could see the sun had finally broke free from the clouds, shining down without a single thing brave enough to stop it. “The sun is shining after all, sweetheart.”

As if you needed anything else to solidify that you had made the right decision, but the sun shining, eager to carry you home to start over only correctly this time, was enough to assure you of the importance of your choice. As you led her to the car, watching her eyes light up as she greeted your brothers, you were sickened at the idea you ever had a single shred of doubt at all. She was your partner in crime, whether that be at five years old, or eighty, and you were eternally grateful for that fact alone.

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starheirxero · 1 month ago

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Theories and/or scenarios for killcode? Im hungry for it 👀

HAJAHAJSHISHWJD IM!!!! SO GLAD YOU ASKED bc honestly I had a period of time where I put a lottt of thought into KC for the purpose of blending him into my fix-it au!!! I'm gunna treat these asks as one bc tbh I'm just bad at distinguishing the two BSJABDJD

Ahem ahem. adjusts tie. I'm gunna start off with lil one-off headcanons and then I'm gunna delve into deeper thoughts and analysis.

I think the reason KC talks with such a deep, slow drawl is due to the fact that he was never meant to be a person + he specifically formed through being pushed down over and over. Due to the fact he was never meant to speak or think or exist, his vocal processing is slower and harder to force out compared to others who were actually programmed with it.

I've never drawn KC like this bc I've never properly put it to paper, but I think KC's early lava theming was everything. I love to imagine early KC with a red-orange-yellow-black color scheme, but as he changes, he quite literally "cools down", his color palette turning into an obsidian purple-grey-black scheme instead.

Tbhhh I used to be an it/its KC truther but I realized he's probably not the type to own the "I'm an object, a force of nature" vibe. I moved my it/its tsams truthing to Solar Flare <3

Okay I'm gunna go theory/analysis mode so I'm gunna put the rest under a cut bc I know it's gunna get long LOL

Ahem. Ahem. I have broken down how the kill code manifests in all the characters who have it and what that means for them.

I'm, of course, going to focus on KC! However, it's important going forward to note the 3 major ways I've noted the kill code manifests: through the need for death, the need for injury, and the need for disorder. There is more nuance, but that's how I've mostly boiled it down! Then, beyond that, these urges can either be tamed, quelled, or ignored.

KC is an example of the need for disorder, but not death or injury! He's said before that he doesn't desire the bloodshed, merely "the thrill." (Sources here and here) This also applies to why he treats people like pawns rather than people! He manipulates them to get the thrill of control, of being intimidating enough to make people listen rather than fight back.

However, notably, KC is also an example of someone with ignorable code urges. So ignorable, in fact, that he just... stops. He literally just decides to stop being evil! Not even Moon could do that, who is the only other person with ignorable urges. Moon could ignore them, yes, but it took monumental amounts of effort and he was very prone to caving if something went slightly wrong.

(I'm... not including Eclipse in this because he is a thorn in my side the moment he comes into the picture with the kill code. He's dubious as fuck and if I touch on that, this post won't be about KC anymore 😭)

This detail has always deeply fascinated me because... why? Why is it that those derived from him can be so powerless to the code, while he himself was able to walk away so easily? Now admittedly I never actually came up with a fully-baked reason when I first came up with all this, however! These are my impromptu theories from least to most plausible:

Because so many people stemmed from him, it sort of "chipped away" at certain parts of the code that left him as a technically incomplete version of the code. [Iffy bc isn't part of the kill code that it would "regrow" when taken apart?]

Because he is the kill code, rather than someone living with it. It could potentially be that being the direct source has a different effect than having it woven into you. [Maybe, but then it'd beg the question of why "direct source" vs "added-in" makes such a difference. Could potentially explain why Eclipse is also not as violent bc he's also directly the code split off?]

Because his ass didn't change!!! That this was another facet of his manipulation craving!!! We never saw him after his redemption so do we really know if he wasn't doing kind things with the intend to get more praise, more power, more respect? His intent matters still, just because he was feeding the poor doesn't mean he wasn't smug that so many humans were dependent on him. [This is honestly what I lean for, I just didn't know how to put it into words until now LMAO]

When I used to subscribe to more dadcode headcanons, I used to wonder of he'd endure shitty humans whispering behind his back about how scary he looks, how it's suspicious, but they wouldn't actually know anything. He'd just feel scared because they're skirting too close to the truth.

Now though? I think he'd find that to be the perfect opportunity to lean into their fear, to do something right then and there that'll make them shriek and flinch back. Like. I genuinely don't know why he'd be able to just, flip on a dime! I think he worked a soup kitchen to have people to control and be respected. I think he made friends so he could have a disposal of people to do what he wants. I think he'd get a thrill out of all the humans around him being intimidated by his presence—his red eyes, his claws, his toothy smile.

That idea is also a very big basis of KC in my previously mentioned fix-it au!! Because when he reunites with Bloodmoon, it's not a sweet father-son moment. KC, subconsciously, still views Bloodmoon as the perfect and most loyal tool! So, he immediately falls back into promises of comfort and glory through telling them "stop eating. look at me, i've ignored my code this long and been fine, no? your hunger will go away eventually. the pain will go away. stop eating."

I just. augrhegrhegr. I honestly adore KC's potential he's so fascinating to me. what's wrong with him!!!!!!

#asks #anon #THANK YOU FOR THIS ANON I OWE YOU MY LIFE.#these types of questions are my favorite bc i find them so easy to answer and bc i'm autistic and love to ramble LMAO #i swearrrr i have more KC headcanons but none that i rememberrrrr..... oh well :P #i hope this was entertaining to u tho HSJSHDJD i. never talk abt KC just cuz he's not a top 5 blorbo to me #but like. i have thought about him so much. he's so interesting 2 me 🙏#sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #tsams #sams #tsams killcode #sams killcode #killcode #xero thoughts and rambles

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vodika-vibes · 3 months ago

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I'm feeling soft for Thorn on this Tuesday afternoon when I'm in a haze from my migraine medicine.

So, imagine—

Thorn's girl is a genius.

A genuine, honest to god, genius. She's out-thinking people dozens of years older than her, and he knows she can do so much better than some Clone who works Triple Zero.

And yet, she picks him. Day in and day out, she picks him.

And she vows that she's going to make his life better. Properly better, not the fake better that he claims he has just because he's able to kiss her.

And she is. Or, well, she's trying to.

Her idea? A virtual intelligence she installed in his armor to help him when he's working. Not that she asked if she could mess around with his armor, but Thorn doesn't mind.

Not really.

Because Mira has her voice, and Thorn loves her voice. And yeah, he did have to sit down with her to tell her that she can't mess with his armor without permission again, but he was never angry.

And then, late one evening, she wakes him up because Mira detected something odd while she was doing a scan of his body —"Mira doubles as a medical diagnostic tool, you know this Thorn!" —and that there's something in his brain that's not supposed to be there.

And the good thing about dating someone who was a child prodigy and is still a well-regarded genius is that when she drags him to the local hospital and tells the doctor that there's something in his brain, they believe her.

And, later, she presses a small vial into his hand, a vial holding the chip removed from his brain. She tells him that Mira did a diagnostic on the chip and gave him a list of orders.

She tells him that Mira detected a chip in all of his brothers.

She tells him, her eyes old and cold in a way he's never seen before, that Mira concluded that he and his brothers were created as a weapon against the Republic.

She tells him that she won't stand for it.

She tells him that she already reached out to her club —a group of the galaxy's smartest people— and that she wasn't going to let this happen.

She tells him that she's going to save him.

And Thorn can't help but let the marriage proposal fall from his lips. How can he not marry someone so devoted to him?

#star wars #thorn x reader #i love him

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herstoryheaven · 11 months ago

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Descendants Harry Hook x Reader: The Weight Of Words

Request: I wanted to request a harry hook x plus size reader (who's the daughter of Peter Pan and Wendy Darling) and harry kinda hates her at first.

Reader: Female

Word count: 1722

Average reading time: 6 min 15 sec

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: This story contains themes of body image insecurity, bullying, and emotional intensity. If you are sensitive to these topics, please read with care.

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Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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Y/n Pan walked through the halls of Auradon Prep, a place where heroes and villains once again live amongst each other, with her head held high despite the nagging insecurity gnawing at her. As the daughter of Peter Pan and Wendy Darling, she holds a great legacy. She was known for her caring and nurturing nature, always there to lend a helping hand or offer a kind word. People often say that she is just like her mother: brave, adventurous, and responsible, all while maintaining a magical sense of imagination.

But despite the warmth she radiated, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of self-doubt when it came to her body. She had a bit more weight to her then the average princess, and while she embraced many things about herself, her weight was a source of insecurity that sometimes overshadowed her confidence.

Harry Hook, the son of Captain Hook, was a constant thorn in her side. The hatred between their fathers seemed to have transferred to them, with Harry taking every opportunity to remind Y/n of her flaws. He saw her as nothing more than the daughter of his father's sworn enemy, and he used her insecurity to his advantage.

As Y/n walked through the crowded hallway, Harry stepped in front of her, blocking her path. His signature smirk was firmly in place.

"Watch where you're going, Pan." he sneered, his eyes raking over her form with a judgmental gleam. "Try not to take up the whole hallway next time."

Y/n's cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. She bit back a retort, knowing it would only fuel his taunts. Instead, she pushed past him, keeping her focus on the end of the corridor where her friends awaited.

"Hey, Y/n! Over here!" called Jane, waving her over.

Y/n plastered on a smile as she joined her friends, but the sting of Harry's words lingered.

"Don't let him get to you," Evie said, placing a comforting hand on Y/n's shoulder. "He's just trying to get under your skin."

"I know," Y/n sighed. "It's just... sometimes it's hard not to let it affect me."

"You’re beautiful just the way you are, Y/n," Carlos added. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Despite their reassurances, Y/n couldn't shake the hurt. Harry's words echoed in her mind, feeding the insecurities she tried so hard to suppress.

-----

Days turned into weeks, and Harry's cruel remarks continued. Each encounter chipped away at her confidence, but she refused to let him see how much it affected her.

One afternoon, as Y/n was heading to the library, she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see Harry, his expression unreadable.

"Pan." he called out, his tone less biting than usual.

She stopped but didn't turn around. "What do you want, Harry?"

"I need to talk to you," he said, his voice softer. "It's important."

Y/n turned slowly, crossing her arms defensively. "What is it now? Another insult? Another way to make me feel like less?"

Harry's eyes softened, guilt flashing across his features. "No. I... I wanted to apologize."

Y/n blinked, taken aback. "Apologize? For what?"

"For everything," he said, stepping closer. "For the things I've said to you, the way I've treated you. I was wrong."

Her heart raced, a mix of confusion and anger bubbling up. "Why now, Harry? Why the sudden change of heart?"

Harry's gaze dropped to the ground for a moment before meeting her eyes again. "Because I see you now." he admitted, his voice filled with sincerity. "I see how my words have hurt you, and I hate myself for it. You're not your father, Y/n, and you don't deserve the things I've said."

Y/n stared at him, searching his face for any hint of deception. "Why should I believe you?"

Harry's expression grew even more pained. "Because... I need to be honest about something else too." he said, taking a deep breath. "I was scared. Scared of what it meant to care about you, beyond just hating you because of your father. The truth is, it was easier for me to lash out and insult you than to confront how I felt."

Y/n’s brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I was terrified of falling for you." Harry confessed, his voice cracking slightly. "I hated that you were the daughter of my father's sworn enemy, but more than that, I was afraid of how much I cared for you. So I pushed you away, hid behind my insults, thinking it would make it easier to stay distant. But it only made things worse."

Y/n's eyes widened, her anger giving way to a deeper understanding. "So, you were scared of loving me?"

"Yes." Harry admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was scared of what it would mean, of how it would change everything. I’m sorry for letting that fear turn into cruelty."

Y/n looked at him, processing his confession. "And now?"

"Now," Harry said, taking another step closer, "I want to make things right. I want to show you that my feelings have changed, that I want to be honest with you, and that I’m willing to work on it whatever it takes."

Her heart pounded, caught between lingering hurt and slight hope. "How can I trust you?"

"Let me prove it." Harry said earnestly. "Give me a chance to show you that I’m not the same person I was before. I promise, I’ll do everything I can to make up for how I’ve treated you."

Y/n's defenses began to soften, though her trust was still fragile. "We'll see, Harry. Actions speak louder than words."

Before she could say more, Harry gently took her hand, his touch surprisingly tender, his eyes so intense it nearly made her knees buckle. "I understand darling. And you're truly the most beautiful being I have ever had the honor of laying my eyes on, Y/n. Every single part of you."

Her breath hitched as he moved even closer, his hands resting on her shoulders before trailing down her arms and wrapping around her waist. "Harry, what are you doing?"

"I'm making it up to you." he murmured, his voice raspy and low, filled with emotion. He leaned in, pressing soft kisses along her jawline, moving to her neck, and whispering against her skin. "I'm so sorry for the pain I've caused. You deserve so much better."

Y/n's heart raced, a mix of confusion and longing flooding her senses. She felt his hands caress her sides, his touch gentle and reverent. "Harry..."

He pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes with a depth of feeling she hadn't seen before. "Let me show you how beautiful you are." he whispered, his lips brushing hers in a tender kiss.

Completely overwhelmed, Y/n felt tears streaming down her face. She was defeated, all the pain and frustration boiling over. Harry kissed her tears away, his lips soft and comforting against her skin.

"Don't cry, darling." he whispered. "Please, let me make it right."

"I can't help it." she choked out between sobs. "It's all been too much. And... and I'm too heavy for you."

Harry's brow furrowed in concern as he wrapped his arms around her. "Y/n, darling. You're not too heavy."

"You don't understand," she whispered, her voice filled with distress.

Before she could protest more, Harry scooped her up with ease, cradling her against his chest. "Harry, put me down." she insisted, her voice shaky and weak.

"Not a chance darling." he said firmly, holding her tighter. "I’m not putting you down, you’re coming with me."

Y/n clung to him, feeling the strength in his arms as he carried her through the hallways. Her mind racing, but she couldn't deny the sense of safety and comfort that his embrace provided.

-----

When they reached Harry’s dorm room, a quiet serenity settled over them, contrasting with the whirlwind of emotions that had been swirling inside Y/n. Harry gently guided her to sit on his bed, his touch so tender that it felt like he was handling something incredibly delicate. He took a seat beside her, his gaze unwavering as he reached for her hands.

The warmth of his fingers intertwined with hers was comforting, a subtle promise of support and affection. "Y/n, you’re perfect as you are." Harry said softly, his eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that spoke of both sincerity and regret. "Your weight doesn’t change that."

Y/n’s heart ached at his words. She looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity or pity, but all she found was a deep, genuine concern and love. Her voice trembled as she whispered, "I don’t know if I can trust you, Harry."

Harry’s expression softened even further, and he leaned closer, his breath warm against her face. "Then let me earn it," he said, his voice a low, earnest plea. "Let me show you every day how much you mean to me."

Without waiting for a response, he closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that was tender and full of longing. The kiss was slow, a deliberate dance of emotions, as if he was trying to convey all the words he couldn’t find into that single, intimate moment. The softness of his lips and the gentle pressure of his kiss sent shivers down Y/n’s spine, igniting a flicker of hope deep within her.

As their lips moved together, Y/n felt her defenses start to crumble. The warmth of Harry’s affection wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, and for the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to believe in the possibility of a future where she was truly cherished. She melted into the kiss, feeling the depth of his apology and the sincerity of his feelings.

When they finally broke apart, Harry rested his forehead against hers. The closeness of their faces, the shared breath, and the gentle smile on his lips were all part of a silent promise. Y/n could see the unwavering commitment in his eyes, and a small, hopeful smile tugged at her own lips. "You’re forgiven, Harry," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "But you’ll have to keep proving it."

Harry’s eyes sparkled with a mix of affection and mischief. "Oh, I intend to, darling." he said, his tone playful yet earnest. "Every single day for the rest of my life."

From that moment on, Harry’s actions spoke volumes. He made it his mission to uplift Y/n’s spirits, to remind her of her worth with each passing day. Whether it was through small, thoughtful gestures or heartfelt conversations, he showed her, time and time again, how much she meant to him. His constant efforts to cherish and support her gradually helped Y/n rediscover her own self-worth, and with each day that passed, the foundation of their love grew stronger, rooted in trust, understanding, and an unwavering devotion.

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alexisomnias · 2 years ago

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— "INSANITY" . . .

⤷ jing yuan has a thing for criminals, you fit that description

,, inspired by @dulcesiabits prompt

as JING YUANS prisoner It was no surprise to expect chains bound on both your wrists, keeping you attached to the cool chair that was stuck under a dim light.

Talking to you no other was an npc esc character, asking you question after question. Ones you didn’t bother to answer truthfully. They couldn’t kill you after all, you were their only source of answers.

A moment of silence passes, the last question passing through, to which you ignore, mind drifting off. “You know I was going to add the demand that nobody would be on the other side of the glass. Listening in, when i don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you?” the guy asks, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, its almost as if you could see his brain tick until it hit 12 o’ clock.

“Well because I know the generals back there.” you hum. “Watching and listening. Perhaps finding ways to use my answers against me?” i laugh echos out of your throat as you tug at the chains. A loud clang as it bangs against the metal chair, “its truly satisfying.”

You could hear the door open behind you, unable to turn around due to your chaining a smile void of happiness rises on your face as you watch the guys’ across from you eyes turn upwards.

“Jing Yuan?” you speak in a lower, hushed tone. Your voice hinting twisted curiosity.

“I’d like to talk to them alone.” the generals voice turns behind you.

The guy across from you stays silent for a few fat seconds, before nodding, a glare being sent down at you as he stands up and walks by. “Don’t you dare try anything.”

Your face falls as you tug at the chains, “I can’t anyway.”

Jing Yuan stays behind you, out of sight, as the door shuts behind you.

“Surprised to see you were caught.”

You huff, already imagining his cocky face staring at you, judging you. “what? upset that you weren’t the one to chain me here?”

“Perhaps.”

you scoff, “of course, why wouldn’t you want that.”

you could hear his carefree laugh echo from behind. its almost as if you could see the crease of his face, and the usual, polite smile that almost never leaves his face. (even when picking up tea that was poisoned, or walking straight into a trap he knows was there.)

but really could you see him? no, but he could see you. You didn’t know of the look he gave that was full of unjustified adoration.

Jing Yuan wanted to see you like looking through the clouds and reaching the stars, he wanted to see what lied under your layers what color your blood was, what your motivations were, what made you tick.

You were so fixated on his murder, it could almost make him blush. If he was pricked by your thorns he hopes a rose would be placed by your delicate bloody hands. Even if the rose was painted red with his blood, he knows the color of it was still beautiful, like you.

“General?” your steel voice cuts through. Voice stabbing through unaware to the thoughts spiralling in his head as he stares at you ahead of him, across the glass.

You tug at the chains as you call his name, he went silent after your sentence. May it be guilty silence? oh you don’t know, and you don’t care.

“Is there something you need, [name]?”

“I don’t know, out of here?”

“Sorry, I can’t do that. Are peanut butter cookies to your liking?”

“Shut up.”

“I knew I should’ve bought chocolate chip.”

You give a look of displeasure (he can’t see), before your eyes pan to the side. Watching Jing Yuans white hair sway by as he laughs, walking to the other side of the table. Taking a seat opposite to you as if this was a tea party instead of a criminal interview. A pleasureful smile on his face.

“Stop with the games, Jing Yuan. What are you going to do with me anyway? lock me in a cell? beat the information out of me?”

“None of the like.” he smiles, in a way that exhibits benevolence, laying his arms upon the table (hand twitching to reach yours), “I’m going to let you go.”

you stare at him in a mix of bafflement and disbelief, “have you lost your mind?”

“I don’t believe I have.”

“your joking, you’re just trying to give me false hope.”

“I’m not the type to do that.”

he says, and if to prove it, you hear a click of a chain, and suddenly the weight on your wrists and biceps pull off. Freeing you, it takes you a moment to get accustomed to the lighter movement of muscles before your face moves into a glare, flicking your bound muscles as if opening chained wings.

In no wasted time you summon your weapon of choice, and bounce onto the table and bring it to his neck.

“What the hell goes through your mind, general, i wonder.” you say, voice hushed in a whisper as you see blood drip from his neck, eyes narrowing and keening in. His expression doesn’t change as if he was expected you to do that.

You walk around the table, carefully still holding your weapon to his throat, in a position of if he tried anything he’d lose his head.

“Hm, my mind works its own wonders I guess i can say.” Jing Yuan states, eyes turning as you walk to his side, standing behind him for more security on your position. Adjusting your grip on the weapon you scowl.

“You can speak all you want about understanding justice, but it seems yours is skewered.”

“I guess the proper way to say it is I got bored.”

You stare meeting his eyes as his head turns to see yours. “You’re really confusing, you know, General. You get bored with your duties, and decide the best thing to do is threaten your life?”

You adjust the weapon, watching as blood trickles out of his neck. Red blood moving down his porcelain skin. He’d look gorgeous in red.

Since your eyes were carefully focused on the pressure of your weapon and his movements. You miss how his breath gets caught, and how white his knuckles go as you “work your magic.” oh, you were just so hot.

An alarm goes off in the building, perhaps notifying the building of your escape from the chains and you scowl, you wouldn’t have enough time to finish the job, (you know better that a simple cut to the neck would be enough to finish him off), and you move your weapon down, glaring down at Jing Yuan. Who’s face still remains masked and neutral. Your eyes meet.

“Nice talk,” you start sarcastically, “hopefully the next time we meet you’ll lose your tongue.”

“Til’ we meet again then, [Name].”

As a parting gift, you slash your weapon across his neck in a precise and quick manner, to which his hand quickly goes up to grab, flinging it out of your hands from the blade and onto the ground. His hand getting cut, dirtying your blade with the scent of blood. He hears you curse roughly and before his gaze goes back to meet yours you’re out of the room. Only remnants left of you is your weapon, his bleeding scar, and the blown open door that bangs loudly against the wall of the silent room.

whats left in the room is Jing Yuan. Blood rushing through quickly as his heart pounds, not with fear but with thrill. Hot panting leaving his mouth as he can breath again. The blaring sirens emitted from the establishment bothering his ears.

“General Jing Yuan!” a call, comes from the hall. The young man who interviewed you before at the door, “where is the criminal!? how’d they get out!?”

“I don’t know where they went.” he hums, leaving the other question unanswered. “By now they must be out of the building, we’ll do a patrol.”

“But General.” another voice pipes up worriedly, “you're bleeding.”

much true to her words, his hand swipes across his bleeding throbbing throat and he winces as he touches it. (its going to take a while to heal it seems). he stares at the blood, an image of your eyes staring into his flashing through, and he gazes back up from his finger. “I’ll be fine. Do go ahead without me, i'll catch up in due time.”

The two knights nod their head and rush off. Jing Yuan hears a bark of orders and once again he’s left alone in the dimly lit room.

The scratch of a chair is all he hears as he stands up. Walking over to the corner, he grabs your left behind weapon. His thumb rubbing the holder gently, and he feels his heart pound against his chest again, stomach fluttering.

Jing Yuan thinks he’s going to pocket it for a while…

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan hsr #hsr #suns pencil.

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anticidic · 10 months ago

Note

Dear writing muse, Here is a writing prompt to help get you into the spooky mood: "Don’t you want to be consumed by what loves you?" Share with me the things you dread so I may know what to lay upon your stone, a story of SKK brain rot would definitely take a high seat on your throne. (Did i intentionally make it rhyme... possible so.)

(cw: blood/injury mentions)

Drip, drip, driiiip…

A twig snapped underfoot. Something splashed. The bubbling current of the brook he thought so close now sounded impossibly far away and six feet submerged.

All around him, the wind picked up—leaves rustled, branches groaned, and the end of his scarf came loose in the breeze, whipping the side of his face. Chuuya touched his neck with his dirty fingers, scratching the phantom itch so terrible he wanted to jump out of his skin because it burned the more he dug mud-caked fingers in. He felt the force of a thousand tiny ant soldiers marching up and down the column of his neck, circling all around and up and down the nape into his hair and down his spine.

Shuddering, he shook away the sensation and sucked in a deep breath. Calm. He needed to remain calm. Yet how could he do that when the trees closed in on him and the starry sky above disappeared into a sea of nothingness? Not even the moon shone. He pressed on through, underbrush scratching his skin and thorns pricking his ankles, catching in his socks and tearing needlepoint holes when he tugged himself free.

“This goddamn place, I swear…” Chuuya muttered, heaving a sigh as he stopped to catch his breath. Sweat beaded at his forehead that he flicked away with a few fingers, smearing wet warmth across his hairline. When the stench of copper reached his nose, he grimaced.

“…looking for you.”

Chuuya’s attention snapped to the nearby trees.

Nothing.

Right above him, the sound of a tree branch bending and snapping under a heavy weight. Too loud to be the wind. Too heavy to be that same owl mourning from afar. A cold streak ran through his heart and a bottomless pit of dread opened up in his stomach.

Don’t look. Don’t. Look.

No, he had to. He felt the presence of something and knew he was not alone. He looked up and saw a pair of eyes, beady and yellow in the darkness, staring back, unblinking, but couldn’t make out the shape of what he saw. Chuuya clutched his phone a little tighter.

Right. He had his phone’s light. He could use it to expose whatever thing was staring back, except making any sense of his racing thoughts proved impossible with the roar of blood rushing through his ears and his heart hammering in his chest.

It laughed. A laugh that soundly oddly human. A human laugh that did not belong to his missing friend. It was a man’s.

“Who’s there?” Chuuya demanded, though his voice cracked under the pressure of the unknown. He stepped backward and stumbled over a thick, gnarled root.

The thing laughed harder, and Chuuya swore he saw those eyes finally move, almost disappearing as if it had the face of a man and he imagined someone amused.

But people did not have yellow eyes.

“Looks like you found yourself in quite the predicament, haven’t you?” it spoke in a smooth voice—a voice that did not fit with the hooting of owls and cawing of crows. Too out of place for this fragmented and cursed place that existed solely by nightfall as the forest swallowed whole the light of day.

Gritting his teeth, Chuuya aimed his phone up at the source of the voice and flashed the light through the trees.

A man stared back, smiling for the camera pointed at him, flashing fanged teeth.

No. Not quite right. He had the appearance of a man, but Chuuya did not miss the claws peeling chipped bark and the eight—no, nine—tails that fanned out behind him in dashes of white and blue color against the black forest canvas. Something about this man made his blood run cold and he took off in the opposite direction, ignoring the burn in his lungs that screamed for him to stop or else as he pushed past overgrown bushes and cut himself on the unruly thorns of roses that bloomed high and tickled his skin. Against the sound of his own panting heard the laughter border on hysterical, footsteps hitting the ground behind him swift, almost light.

Leaves crunched underfoot. Earth squished.

Plop, plop, plop…

Shadows darted past him and something soft touched raw skin. A warm caress in the autumn twilight if not for the body he ran into and the hands that snaked around him, wrapped tight and refusing to let go. Claws pressed into his back and breath tickled his ear.

"Gotcha."

A scream tore itself from his throat, with no one to hear.

In the silence that followed, a soft weeping knowing the end was near even as the body refused to give up and he dug his heels into the ground. The slow dragging of his body against his will by the hand around his wrist persisted, past the bubbling brook and the meadow his friend disappeared in. Past bare trees until his feet hit stone and they walked, together, up a path leading to a shambled hut peeking through the low, purple glow of overarching trees. Next to the hut, the tiniest candle with a flickering, almost-dead flame.

He flinched when he felt a claw drag down his cheek. Harsh, but not as harsh as the unforgiving sting of the wind lashing his face.

"Don’t you want to be consumed by what loves you?"

#asks #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #soukoku #soukoku fanfiction #fic related #how many times can i thank you b4 it becomes annoying LMAO #no but really i appreciate it this helped #i guess now u can consider it a snippet of what's to come #trying to channel my inner spooky writer :')#my writing #anticide writes #“writing exercise” my ass this is almost 1k words

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newwillinium · 1 year ago

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Benny's Gambit: Why Yes-Man sucks as the face of a Independent Vegas Route

So this has been on my mind for a good good long while now. So around two years ago during yet another playthrough of Fallout New Vegas I decided to, for the first time since that first playthrough on the 360, go down the Independent Route instead of going NCR like I always had. And I found myself greatly disappointed with what I found. So for those somehow unaware, the independent route of New Vegas begins when you off Benny in the Tops or in Caesar's Tent/Arena, and encounter a Securitron by the name of Yes-Man in Benny's closet at the Tops. There you learn that the reason behind your execution, the hunt for the Platinum Chip, was all for a way to take control of House's Securitron army. Something House himself will tell you when you first meet him shortly before or after entering the Tops. But there's another way to learn about it. . .from Benny himself. Where Benny offers to make you his agent, a mercenary, to help take New Vegas to new heights free from the autocracy of House and the predations of the NCR and Legion. A true independent Vegas where the Chairman direct the show and the others follow. Which isn't terrible, as it would solve one of the major issues with New Vegas as a whole and the Independent Route in particular. So before I get into that let me lay down the Yes-Man quote that had me infuriated with the Independent Route and what it ultimately represents. > So I should ask these tribes if they'll support an Independent Vegas? > " Oh no, I didn't mean that! Who needs their support? The Securitrons will be all the support you need! What I meant is, you should get to know these tribes and decide which ones you like and which you don't! You know - shape the future of Vegas! Choose your neighbors! If you like a tribe, leave it alone! Or if a tribe is nasty, or going to be a problem - go ahead and exterminate it! It's whatever you want to do!" The Yes-Man Independent Route isn't a route for a Independent Vegas, where you convince the tribes and settlements to back you and your move against both the colonizing NCR and also the autocratic House and Caesar, but instead if it is a power-fantasy. YOU get to decide who lives or dies in the coming Vegas, YOU get to make all the decisions for Vegas. It's not a independent route, you are a single man making a decision for thousands with no authority invested into you other then what you stole from other figures who WERE respected and accepted by their wider communities. But imagine a New Vegas where, you initially COULD take Benny up on his offer. > You'll get a sweet, juicy cut of that action. But until that day comes, I'll keep you on retainer, and pay bonuses for "special missions You go to the Families and convince them to help Benny overthrow House and keep their independence from any of the "finks" encroaching on their borders. You make a truce with the Khans by giving them free range over Western Vegas so long as they keep the roads safe. Make out a deal with the Brotherhood to repair the Securitrons in exchange for driving out the Van Graffs (with you possibly agreeing with the Brotherhood to discard of the Securitrons later with their help), and convince the Boomers to help through the vanilla quests. Convince Freeside, North Vegas, Westside and the Thorn, Jacobstown, to join with you. Have Benny only turn on you *towards the end* of the Yes-Man/Independent Route, that way when you take the reins from him the plot is already moving, the people of the Mojave ALREADY support what you are doing, and you can go forward from there. Where everyone supports you rather then just thinking that they are helping either the NCR or Legion only to be blindsided by you coming in INCLUDING your allies. There actually w

+as a really fantastic mod on the Nexus that fixed the majority of my issues too, but sadly the mod author deleted their account not too long ago so that mod is forever lost to the wider internet. TLDR: Half my post got deleted so I'm rushing this along now before work, Yes-Man's Route sucks as a power fantasy because it IS just a power fantasy, Benny should have been the leader of the Independent Route, Have him turn on you later, still get Yes-Man as a personality, this way every settlement and tribe in the Mojave actually MATTER in regards to the Yes-Man route too.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fonv #fallout nv #new vegas #fnv

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behindthesoul · 1 year ago

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Be Silent, Sorcerer

Shang Tsung x Quan Chi

Masterlist

Summary - In the garden of Shang Tsung’s soul, where betrayal sews thorns, a delicate bud emerges. Its unexpected bloom opens a new door for his relationship with Quan Chi.

Word Count - 1,828

Warnings - mental breakdowns

A/N - Takes place after Shang Tsung and Quan Chi find out Damashi’s true identity. Also, thanks to my beta reader Eevee :)

“You are the victim of deceit, sorcerer.”

Even after an hour or so, the words keep ringing in his ears. Each time they repeat, they sting just a bit more. Shang sits in the remnants of his laboratory, a place that once represented his wit and cunning, now a burning reminder of his foolishness. Shang’s eyes are dull, his chest tight. His hands reach up to run through his hair, but only add to the frustration when they get caught in tangles. They then fall down, letting out a sound when they collide with his torso.

Shang had to hold his composure as best as he could. He wouldn’t dare to let Liu Kang and his minions witness a moment of weakness. Why give them more leverage than they already had? As soon as there was a moment of downtime, Shang ignored the faces that looked at him with disgust and ran to his lab. Its smell of death and despair was intense, the cries of prisoners enough to rupture the eardrum; neither managed to register in Shang’s mind.

He storms around the lab, finding himself unable to stay in one place. His mind is scattered across the room; attempts to find it are futile. Shang continues to race around the lab to find the last thing that keeps him together. Quills, scrolls, small miscellaneous items are thrown across the room during his search; no dice. The small items are followed by a chair, a lamp, even one of his examination tables. Shang’s face reddens as his hands tremble in grief and exertion. He inhales, exhales, but his breaths are too shaky to calm the frustration that begins to rise in his body.

A small light reflects in the corner of his eye. It’s one of the many beakers used in his tarkat experiments. Many restless nights were spent slaving over his desk, desperate to find a cure. Shang huffs in bitter amusement at the fact he stressed over this disease for, ultimately, no purpose. If only he could go back in time and tell his past self that he was being played. An invisible magnet draws him over to the object, and he gently picks it up. It’s chipped at the rim, presumably from being thrown to the ground. Dainty fingers spread across the beaker, cold and uncaring; they press against it as if he intended to bring harm. Shang’s breath hitches as his eyes close, imagining that his hands were wrapped around the throats of everyone who dared to conspire against him.

Shang is almost deafened by the sudden footsteps he hears. They aren’t too loud, but the reverb of his laboratory heightens his hearing. There is no need to turn and see who dared to interrupt him. He listens as the familiar legs clack against the ground until they stop in front of him.

“Quan Chi,” he simply states, voice laced with ire. Anger they both shared.

Quan Chi hums, seemingly pleased that he was recognised without Shang Tsung having to open his eyes. “I seek peace, solace from today’s events.”

“And you thought to find respite here,” Shang adds.

“Correct.”

Shang finally opens his eyes to fully drink in the image of his friend. Quan Chi stands tall, a few inches above him, and looks relaxed with his arms behind his back. Shang opens his mouth to say something, but the words are lost on him. He decides to not pollute the air with pointless rambling so the two could share a comfortable silence. Shang watches as Quan Chi walks over to a chair he threw earlier. The sorcerer picks it up and sets it upright before sitting down, sighing in relief after being on his feet all day. Shang takes a few steps back, the added distance giving him the courage to speak.

“I pride myself on my keen foresight, yet I was unable to realize we were just pawns.” Shang’s face twists into a disgusting scowl. It’s an expression that is foreign to his normally smug face.

“The wool was pulled over both our eyes, Shang Tsung.”

Shang shakes his head in anger, the emotions from earlier seeping out of his body. His fists clench and he takes a deep breath.

“Liu Kang will pay for the life he cursed me with. He will regret blessing me with mercy.”

Shang looks over at Quan Chi. His friend’s eyes are laced with an unknown emotion. He silently pleads for a response that would give context to Quan Chi’s facial expression but receives nothing. The two men continue to stare at each other, and Shang can only understand the emotion as pity. Whether Quan Chi truly pities him or not is unknown, but it’s the answer Shang decides to create.

One could almost feel the heat rising from Shang’s shoulders. Its smoke pollutes the air, making it thick and hazy. It suffocates, but Quan Chi is used to poor conditions like this; he doesn’t move at all.

“Shang Tsung,” Quan Chi begins. Shang doesn’t react at all – his eyes are too busy burning holes in the ground in front of him.

No response. The air gets thicker and thicker; it would surely kill anyone who walked in. Quan Chi can see Shang’s nails dyed with blood, a result of digging his nails into his palms. Quan Chi stands and eventually makes his way toward his friend. His efforts to grasp Shang’s attention are in vain, it appears as though there is a compelling force redirecting his attention away from Quan Chi.

Curious, Quan Chi grabs Shang’s chin and forces eye contact.

“Not once have I seen you lose control of yourself,” Quan Chi didn’t mean to offend with his observation, but Shang’s jaw tightens as he feels insulted.

“We were promised the world; instead we received humiliation.” Shang’s voice, once strong and confident, sounds weak and sad. “My wish was to share them with you; rule them as one.”

“And I, you,” comes Quan Chi's soft voice, comforting his companion immediately. Whatever emotion Shang felt in Quan Chi’s eyes is gone; it’s replaced with kinder, softer ones. “We – you deserve much more, Shang Tsung.”

Shang tries to look down but a strong hand keeps his head tilted up. Emotions begin to flood the damaged well of his heart. If Quan Chi wasn’t paying attention, he’d miss the signs of the tears’ arrival: fingers gently shaking, blotches of red attacking his pale cheeks, and torment clawing its way out of his chest. Quan Chi doesn’t know what to do, there’s not much he can do; emotions were never his strong suit. Shang pulls away and starts to pace the room. His hands shake more, and eventually a vase that survived his earlier breakdown is thrown against the wall, breaking and falling in sync with fresh tears. Shang chokes back violent sobs as a table is flipped, a window is broken, and a wall is punched. His poised self is well out the broken window, replaced by a man whose eyes are so bloodshot he looks like a beast.

Quan Chi is silent once again. He doesn’t know if he should calm the man who is now pulling at his hair, or allow him to feel his emotions. Shang’s breathing is rapid; one could almost hear his heart beating out of his chest. Quan Chi didn’t think it possible for Shang to hurt this much. He slowly extends his arms out for a hug, not knowing what else to do. Shang rushes over to Quan Chi and collapses in his arms, the sheer force of his weight knocking them both to the ground. He sobs, almost screams into Quan Chi’s shoulder. Shang’s arms hold the man tight; his fingers digging into his companion’s skin. Both are sure that Shang drew blood, but neither cared.

“I am not sure what to do next,” Shang chokes out, burying his face in his friend’s neck. He feels his stomach twisting. He brushes it off as a symptom of his overwhelming emotions, but knows it’s due to being in such close proximity to Quan Chi. He felt his feelings grow for his fellow sorcerer over the last few months but was quick to bury them. It only makes sense that his desire for the man would return with the rest of his emotions.

Quan Chi lets out a deep sigh of agreement. “Neither do I, my friend.” Friend, that word burns Shang’s chest. “But, hear me, Shang Tsung, when I say I shall face any adversary at your side. Forever.”

Shang slowly raises his head to look at Quan Chi. Shang’s face is wet, but the tears are slowing to a stop. Quan Chi’s hand moves to dry his face and huffs in amusement when Shang replaces the tears he dried with fresh ones. The air becomes charged with an unspoken tension as the two find themselves relaxing in each other’s presence. Their breathing, unbeknownst to them, slowly syncs, creating a harmonious rhythm that resonates with the quiet intensity of the moment. There wasn’t much either man could do other than stare into each other’s eyes. They had always been masters of restraint, keeping their feelings guarded like closely held secrets. Tonight, however, something was different.

As they sit in the laboratory, the echoes of Shang’s anger from earlier in the day linger in the air. The conversation since had flowed effortlessly, each word a bridge leading them closer to a place neither had ventured before. Shang can feel his heart beating a little faster, his palms slightly damp as he tries to navigate the uncharted territory of vulnerability.

Quan Chi, usually composed and self-assured, seems equally affected. His eyes start to hold longing, mirroring the emotions Shang had been suppressing for far too long. The unspoken tension simmers beneath the surface, the magnetic pull between them growing stronger with every passing moment.

A gentle breeze sweeps through a broken window, carrying with it a subtle scent of blooming flowers and the promise of change. The atmosphere seems to conspire, urging them to break free from the shackles of their own inhibitions. The ambient noise of the laboratory fades away as they move closer, the space between them diminishing with each heartbeat. Quan Chi could smell a faint hint of sweat on Shang’s body.

His hand stays on Shang’s face, guiding Quan Chi as he goes in to kiss Shang, the latter slightly gasping in surprise at the movement. The kiss was nothing special; clumsy, unsure lips moving against each other, showing that neither man had much experience in the love department. Their sloppy rhythm slows to a stop as they both pull away. Shang feels dazed. The feeling is welcomed after an hour of rage.

“A friend,” he starts, and Quan Chi listens intently. “You call me a friend, but your actions say otherwise.” Shang grins, “I fear you do not understand what a friendship is.”

“Be silent, sorcerer.”

#mortal kombat fanfiction #mortal kombat fanfic #shang tsung x quan chi #please don’t let this one flop i’m counting on you all

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