#in a few hours i'm going to re-look at this and be absolutely disgusted as i should buuuuuuut whatever im still gonna post this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hobipaint · 3 years

Text

Graffiti and Chalk- two

summary: You thought you knew him. You thought him gone. Kim Taehyung was part of you that you had carefully suppressed, keeping his memories to one box near the wall of your mind. That was your fault, though - empty walls demand for art. And who other than your own neighbourhood vandal?

↳ pairing: ex police student turned vandal! taehyung x officer! female reader

↳ genres: angst, fluff

↳ word count: 9.6K

↳ disclaimers: pg15!, vandalism, police officers, criminal past and heavy discussion of it, mentions of character deaths.

one | two

a/n: FINALLY AFTER A MONTH IT'S HERE! This took me really long to write but I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out : it's my longest work yet, and I feel like it would be among my best as well hehe. a massive thank you to @kookiestarlight because i swear i completed this in the first place because of tasha, @swcetnight who pointed out exactly where I need to elaborate stuff and places in which I was loosing parts of the plot because did I forget the whole storyline while writing this 🤡, @vaekth because this bby is absolutely amazing. she's supported me throughout the process of writing this, thank you so much!! thank you to @taecup-fics for beta reading this at the last minute and pointing out a bunch of grammatical errors because otherwise this would be a mess to read 😭 to everyone who has waited - I'm so sorry that it came this late, I suddenly had a bunch of exams that were announced and had to focus on those. Hopefully this lives up to your expectations!! Enjoy reading :)

Morning often dawns with a feeling of hope. With wistful sights of sunrise. Flowers open up to the golden haze that thaws the frost of the night. Birds roam the skies that had been but mysterious domains in the dark. People wake up with groans about the impending day, hopeful for it to end soon. You hoped for your mornings to always be similar to this- some constants were needed in places where you had cases as bewildering as missing pumpkin plushies piling up in your office.

Your morning today, though, was much different. Much to your annoyance.

You held the coffee you had brewed for yourself - another espresso, the universe knows you needed it - and handed one to Taehyung just as the cuckoo perching on the clock shrilly announced that it was eight in the morning.

"Do you still have no answers for me, Y/N?" Taehyung looked at you. His eyes were sullen - no signs of the cheekiness that had peeked at you last night. Scattered rays fell across his body, highlighting the sunken cheeks, brooding eyes and tight smiles you could now see better in the daylight.

You sighed- probably for the millionth time this night. "I do not understand your question, Taehyung."

"You remember it. I've asked you thrice since I saw you again, Y/N. Do you not remember anymore? Do you not care for me? Was our idea of us nothing for you?" He looked at you with a myriad of emotions written all over his face- you looked away, not wanting to see them.

Sighing, you gathered your thoughts the best you could. "Like I said, Taehyung." You looked at him- looking at the person you once fell in love with. The feeling you felt today, though, was much different. There was a feeling of running towards him, taking him in your arms and remembering who he was to you all over again, but it was overwhelmed by the confusion you felt - should you prioritize a past that wanted answers, or a future that was unsure? For now, you chose none pushing the time to make that decision further ahead. "We were an 'us' for only a few hours. Until you stood me up."

He rolled his eyes."That wasn't intentional, Y/N."

"And how was I supposed to know that, Taehyung? I thought it was, since you had never told me anything beforehand."

Taehyung's eyebrows bunched together, as if coming to hear the stories that his eyes longed to tell- stories of events that you had never seen and never known. "Would you not hear me out, even once? For the sake of our old love?"

You bristled. "What love, Taehyung?" You got up to stretch your legs out, looking at the patchwork blanket that was stuffed in the corner. You had taken that for your first date with Taehyung, planning to cuddle with him and watch the stars - a date that never happened. "What love? A love where you don't speak to me for weeks, and then vanish for some crime? We were young then, and I got hurt then as it is. There's no need to go over this right now."

"That was not my fault, Y/N. You know that." Taehyung seemingly sunk back into his chair, eyes downcast. "I had said I loved you. Before I ever went out with you."

"Like that matters,” you scoffed, “what's the point in reminiscing promises from an old love?"

"At least, hear me out?" He looked up at you with hope sprinkled in the abyss of his eyes. "I don't want you to forget me."

You turned back to your chair, tearing your eyes away from the blanket that was now a pale blue in the sunlight - a few shades lighter than the cerulean colour it would be in the afternoon. "Not now, Taehyung."

Taehyung sighed, looking at the floor, tension exhaled into the room. He sat silently for a few seconds, the ticking clock announcing each moment clearly to you. "That's fair. It's just.." He looked back at you. "I'm used to thinking of you as the person I loved." He nervously let his eyes pan around the windows, gazing at the sunshine that streamed through the window, before turning back towards your gaze. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I'm just really grateful for your presence-"

"Taehyung." You sharply interrupted him. "Two years ago, when your case was reopened for investigation. Who did that?"

"They told me that it was a well wisher in the neighbourhood. Another jailor said it was for good behaviour." He shrugged.

You scoffed aloud, more loudly than you would have liked him to hear.

He frowned, lips drawn in a tight line in annoyance. "Don't believe me? I'll have you know, Y/N, I was among the most well behaved at prison. Absolutely no tantrums. I even ate the salt-less, disgusting food they'd give there. No crying. Nothing. I can show you later on if you want, I think I have a report stuffed somewhere here," He got up, shuffled towards his bag and checked the last zip, hunting for a report you had never heard of.

"It was me."

Taehyung whirled around to face you, unruly hair swinging like the seats of a carousel at a carnival, and raised an eyebrow. "What were you?"

"I was the one who insisted on opening the case for reinvestigation, the case of your stepfather's assault. Went around collecting evidence, searching for people who knew about your family better, getting their voices recorded, finding about the whole deal to frame you and stuff. Nearly got fired." You shrugged, sipping your espresso and wincing- too bitter. "You're welcome, by the way. The coffee is getting cold."

"I don't care about the coffee." He moved the cup aside - nearly spilling the liquid, roughly settling back into the seat he had been occupying for the last few hours. "You were the one who asked for re-opening the case?"

"Just said that."

He slumped back in his seat, and your eyes took in how he spread himself out on the chair, tiredness lacing his figure. "I didn't know that."

"Now you do." You said, sipping your coffee and watching Taehyung do the same.

Taehyung stared blankly at you, and you couldn't fathom what was swirling in those ebony orbs of his. "Why did you do that, Y/N?"

"Honestly," you smile softly at him, "I was expecting a thank you."

"You should have expected questions, Y/N. Why did you help me?" Taehyung's blank expression made way for a confused one, eyebrows furrowing and lips pouting.

"I did what I had to do as a-" You paused here, unsure of what to say. "As a friend, Taehyung, nothing more. I knew you were innocent-"

"How were you so assured?" He pressed on."I could be a complete 180 from the man I met you as. I could be fake. I could be an impostor. I could-"

"You could do a bunch of things, Taehyung." You stared him straight in the eye, trying to keep your emotions at bay. "But you could never tell a lie."

Taehyung scoffed. "You sound like one of the wishy-washy pick-me kind of girls in the movie. No, I don't lie, but I could."

You sighed. As much as you cared for Taehyung, you had never really cared for his argumentative attitude. "I went with the assumption that you were the same person I knew, Taehyung. The one whom I respected and trusted. I acted on that feeling."

"That wasn't trust, Y/N. It was naivety. You were naive to believe me." Taehyung paused, uncertainty lining his forehead as he spoke. "You shouldn't have trusted me."

You rolled your eyes- you couldn't understand why he was so desperate to make sure that you remained aloof from him. What had you done to be treated like that? What had he done to force everyone away from him?

You tried to play off his remaining doubts and frustrations as insecurities he developed while in jail, and moved on."Alright then, you impostor. I was naive to trust you. And even more naive to believe you. Happy? Now shush. I don't want to talk about this." You tried to clear your mind of any doubts you had about Taehyung, but his behaviour, the way he interacted with you - it couldn't help but increase the worry and confusion in your mind.

Taehyung leaned forward to look you in the eye before smiling softly at you - you couldn't understand why. You were going to give him a criminal record, maybe arrest him. You were potentially ruining his life again, and he smiled at you. "If you say so, officer." Taehyung said, settling into the chair - leaving your mind reeling with questions you weren't sure you wanted the answers to.

You opened the laptop again, wearily. "Let's get back to the questions; the sooner we finish this, the better. Where did you source the paint from?"

"You mean the graffiti? And chalk?" You nodded. Taehyung sighed."Terminology, Officer, terminology. Make no errors." He raised a finger to wave at you, as if to say no. You rolled your eyes -it seemed that you were the only one concerned about what would happen to him after this, because Taehyung quite clearly was not. "I bought it with the allowance money that was kept for me in the bank- as much as I hated that man, his cards proved to be useful."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "You didn't steal it."

"No. Took it from my step-father's account. Technically, now mine. Apparently he left everything to his children, and I'm the only one alive that I know of. Maybe he had other children- I wouldn't doubt it for a moment if he had, but that doesn't change my right to his money either."

"Any other members of your family who had been granted access to that account?" You asked, wanting to make sure that there were no loopholes - you didn't want a future possibility of Taehyung being entangled with the wrong side of the law again.

He rolled his eyes, leaning further. "Curious little thing, aren't you? Like I'd told you last night, most of them are dead. Mom had died a few months before I was arrested - thanks to my stepfather being an alcoholic and taking everything out on her. Grandmother already had massive health issues - she passed away after two years of me being in jail - they had let me come out for her funeral."

"My siblings - a brother and sister, if you remember - were taken in by a distant relative, and the last time I spoke to them was three years ago. I'm not allowed to contact them because I might end up being a 'bad influence'," he air quoted the words, laughing mirthlessly. "Guess they won't be too delighted to see me again. You probably know about my stepfather - got drunk and passed out. Permanently. But yeah, that's all. I'm pretty much the sole benefactor from that account."

Hearing how nonchalantly he spoke about it, you were forced to maintain a strong face and be professional. You couldn't possibly think of even wanting to comfort him in any way. "So, you were absolutely not stealing."

"Nope. No. Not at all. Want any further repetitions?"

"That won't be necessary," You said, having typed out the information - tracking his expenditures would also be necessary now, apparently. "Any expenditure you make shall be monitored, now. Be careful."

"Always have been." He chuckled, getting back to spinning the glass on the table. "You know me."

You ignored him. "Your cards will be tracked, and any loose cash will be checked by us. If we feel that there's any room for suspicion, you will have reason to be monitored."

An odd silence filled the room while you tapped away at your laptop, filling in more details about the incident. Taehyung would be having a criminal record again, you thought to yourself. It was the only thought that echoed in your mind. It made you feel uneasy in a way, but you swallowed your unease down. There's a promotion to focus on.

"Taehyung, something has been bugging me since I caught you vandalising." You shifted a little bit, before deciding to spit out the question. "Why did you do it?" You leaned forwards on the table, elbows digging into the wood as you tried to grasp the answers from him.

Taehyung looked you in the eyes, and then looked away. "I don't know."

"You don't know." You raised your eyebrows, leaning back incredulously. "Taehyung, that's not an answer."

"I did it because I wanted to. It was fun. I'd see kids in the morning pointing at my graffiti work and they would like it. There would be people claiming it looked good. I felt acknowledged and I just-" He pleaded, unable to continue without pausing to recollect his calm. "I felt like doing it. After years of having questions raised at me for committing a crime I never did, I finally had people talking about the work I did. Even if it was just chalk drawings."

You exhaled in confusion. The Taehyung you had known - he was never like this. Confident, assured, independent. That was what he seemed to you when you were younger. And now, to see him want to be validated by others who never even cared for him- it felt ridiculous to you. Why was his only way of feeling validated involving something against the law? "Okay, then."

You went through the complaints that had been registered against him, hand resting against your forehead as you asked him the most commonly asked question. "Why the insignia 'V'?"

"V for victory?" He made a 'V' sign with his fingers, "I liked to think that I won against the world by rebelling against its sense of black and white. I saw everyone talk about it, and I felt like the same people who had once pointed fingers at me, blaming me for something I hadn't done, were now pointing fingers at something I had done - I felt victorious. I didn't need to show myself and possibly want more than I had already let myself have - this was enough for me."

You pulled your lips in a tight line, and hummed in response - there were two places that together had put in about twenty complaints, so you had to respond to all of them. You kept reminding yourself that neither did you have the space to feel sorry for him, nor did you have the power to say sorry to him. You simply kept your head turned to the screen, typing in answers to all the complaints.

Taehyung leaned forward after a few seconds. "What punishment do you think I'll get, Officer?"

"If the chief is feeling good, maybe you'll get community service, with a fine," You looked up at him. "Or maybe some time in jail."

"How much time?"

"Maybe a month or two?"

"Oh." Taehyung slumped back into his seat nonchalantly. "Cool then."

How was he this calm? You thought to yourself. He might be going to jail. For a second time.

"Yup." You shut the laptop, finally, after hours of typing information and recording it. Sighing, you lifted the porcelain mug once again to absolutely drain it of coffee, your rather loud gulps echoing in the silence of your office.

Taehyung tapped his fingers on the table- probably some old tune he had learnt before. You remembered that he played the saxophone - from nights of serenading tunes that he had played for you with his beloved instrument. "How long do you think the chief will take to reach here?"

"A few hours, maybe? I'd expect him around ten, to be honest. Nevertheless, let me check." You quickly called the chief on your phone, hearing his ringtone play some old Korean trot song before it was picked up.

"Hello, yes, yes, Y/N. I expected your call." A gravely, rather rough voice responded to you- like it hadn't been used for a few hours. "I shall be reaching the office around eleven. Keep Taehyung with you."

"Yes sir," you said, keeping the phone on your table and turning to Taehyung. "The chief said he'll be here by eleven."

Taehyung nodded in acknowledgement.

"It's nearly eight thirty now." You looked at the cuckoo clock again. "Would you like to freshen up?"

"Where?" Taehyung asked, eyes widening. "Shouldn't I just be at the office?"

"Yeah, you should. My place is right here- the back of this office is where I live, so you'll be fine." You look down at his clothes, grease, paint and metal shrapnel all over them. "Besides, you look like you need a change of clothes."

Taehyung stepped into your house with an air of curiosity, to see how his once classmate was living. His head stooped low to enter through the small door you had, eyes widening in surprise when he found that the hall of your house was larger than he had anticipated.

The house was quaint, a hall with an old couch which doubled as a bed when needed. There was a table in the middle of the room, too low to be a dining table and too high to be a center table. For coffee, maybe? There were maybe five or six magazines scattered haphazardly over it, covering nearly every inch- except for one corner, where Taehyung spotted a shining acrylic blue.

You, however, spotted what page you had left a magazine open at. Squeaking, "I'm sorry!" you ran to shut the booklet close, afraid that Taehyung would spot your love for shirtless men.

Picking up the magazines, you grinned sheepishly at him. "Just a moment! I'll be back, a bit of cleaning to be done, sit right here!" You patted the couch, trying to convince Taehyung.

Taehyung turned away from the pictures he had been observing- was there one of you both? - and nodded, eyes widening in surprise as he saw how you scuttled away to hide the magazines. He looked around again, taking a feel of your house- it seemed like the old you. There was some patchwork embroidery you had left in a corner, atop what seemed to be a showpiece? Taehyung stepped closer to see it in detail, and was amazed at the way you had managed to drag the red thread over and over the pink fabric to make floral designs. It reminded him of the rose he had been trying to complete the previous night, and he grit his teeth. He shouldn't be thinking about that now. That shouldn't be what he does anymore. No more.

You came back, looking quizzically at him. "Take a seat, Taehyung! It's alright."

"Uh, yeah." He shuffled over to the couch again. "Did you make that?"

You looked in the direction his finger pointed to. "Yeah. Tried doing embroidery for stress release purposes."

Taehyung grinned at you. "Stress release?" He asked, bemused.

"Yup." You said while making sure that the magazines were well hidden. "The department I wanted to be in was forensics, you know?" Taehyung nodded, he had been privy to most of your discussions about the advances in forensic technology and analysis - even if he didn't understand anything, he knew your love for it. "Well, they didn't allow me. So the whole 'stress' thing began." You walked back to him, making air quotes as you emphasized on stress. "My mother suggested embroidery would take my mind off it. So, that incomplete piece you see there?" Taehyung nodded, concentrating on every word that left your mouth. "That started a few days ago."

"It looks like it's complete, though- are you really good at it?" Taehyung looked at you again, turning back from the embroidery you were now rising to get.

"Pretty much? It's easy once you get the hang of it."

"Ah." Taehyung said, a dull silence settling into the room for a few moments as Taehyung looked around your room.

"That picture." He pointed, and you turned your head around. The picture he was focusing on was on your mantelpiece, resting happily. The frame had butterflies stuck on its corners, two large and two small. The border was white, now off white, and had pink dots in certain places. It was a picture of fireworks- red, yellow and blue mixing together in a dull sky to breathe life into the picture. And right in the middle, surrounded by this liveliness, were you and Taehyung. Beaming.

Taehyung turned to, finger still pointing at the picture. "That's our picture, right?"

You hummed in affirmation. "That's us, freshman party. We had known each other for a few weeks at this time."

"And I had stopped someone from asking you out, right?" Taehyung reminisced. "That was fun."

You snort. "You had punched him in the face when he asked for my name, Taehyung."

Taehyung smiled. "I didn't want anyone to harm you, Y/N, and he seemed like he would harm you." He spread out his arms and grinned smugly at you. "In a way, I rescued you. That night."

And so many other nights, you wanted to say. For all the time you had known Taehyung, he had been fiercely protective of you - for reasons he never truly told you. You didn't question it either, basking in the feeling of being wanted by someone.

You cleared your throat, hoping to clear your mind as well. "You should go take a shower, Taehyung." Glancing at the clock, you noted the time and motioned towards the washroom. "It's nearly nine. Go take a shower, call for me if you need anything. I'll go get some clothes for you."

Taehyung nodded, rising up slowly to go in the direction you pointed. "Towels are inside," you shouted after him, and he yelled in response to say he understood. In some ways, too many ways, he felt like the Taehyung you once knew.

You went to your room to pick out some clothes, opening your meager collection to salvage something that would fit Taehyung. Your eyes scanned over your uniforms, jumpsuits, jeans, t-shirts and finally landed on the hoodies- probably the largest collection in your wardrobe. Thankfully, you loved large, loose hoodies. You started pulling them out, holding each one up and imagining Taehyung's proportions in them.

The red one, with blue paw prints. "Nah. Too tight."

The black plain one. "That's mine, I'm not sharing that."

The grey ones- nearly three. You skipped over all of them, not understanding how none of these oversized hoodies would seemingly fit Taehyung. He'd gotten humongous, broad shoulders and everything.

You picked out a few more, trying to see whether it would be a fit. None worked.

When you picked up the next one, you could already picture him wearing it. It was the hoodie you had taken from Taehyung during the first year you knew each other. You looked at its loose sleeves, stretchy from you tugging Taehyung behind you with it way back then. The green fabric of the hoodie was slightly pale in a certain spot - you had spilled soda all over him in a fit of anger.

During your forensic chemistry class, the teacher didn't recognise their mistakes in the procedure (they used the wrong test for detecting the sample, and blamed it on you), and you were pretty miffed the whole day. Taehyung had bought sodas for the two of you, having planned to go stargazing later on. And you, in a terrible mood, flipped him off in a way that had the soda spilling over him. You cried, Taehyung laughed, but the hoodie was still stained. You took it with you later on to clean it - but the stubborn stain never left. You were agonized, Taehyung amused, but the hoodie- it was still stained. Taehyung had laughed it off, telling you to keep it with you for as long as you wanted- he could buy a dozen more hoodies to last him till then.

When you left to head home that winter break, you had taken the hoodie with you. You had taken it on your date, crying on its sleeves when you were stood up. And when you came back, Taehyung was suddenly a criminal.

You shook your head to remove the memories of that time, holding the hoodie in your hand and gently caressing its sleeves. So many memories were held in these threads that meshed together to form the fabric of your youth. Good or bad? You didn't want to dwell on that.

"Y/N? Could I get the clothes now?" Taehyung called from the washroom. You picked up a extra large pair of cotton shorts and a hoodie, and passed it to him without really thinking- you'd done it before when he got drunk at college too, having him come over at your place, shower, change, and practically behave like a couple- at least, that's what you had thought of it then.

Get it together, Y/N, why are you thinking about that?

"Thanks!" he shouted again, grasping the clothes with his fingers and whisking them away to the confines of the washroom.

You gripped at your hair and pinched your cheeks. You couldn't keep thinking about the old Taehyung. You didn't know if it was truly him anymore.

"Uh, Y/N?" Taehyung stepped out of the washroom, the previously oversized shorts clinging to his thighs for dear life and the hoodie snugly fitting his figure. "I think it's a bit tight, but I'll make do."

Your eyes widened in horror; Taehyung looked like he was moments away from bursting the shorts. "I'll get you new pants, wait a second. These ones don't fit."

You turned back to your cupboard, looking for the loosest bottoms you could find. "I think the hoodie still fits though, right?"

"Yeah." You heard Taehyung right over your shoulder, scaring you.

"Jeez, when did you get this close to me?" You turned to face him, crossing your arms, looking at his hair which still had droplets sticking to its edges.

"When did you get this far from me, Y/N?" His eyes bore into yours, sweetly intense eyes gazing at you like it was the first time he saw you. "What happened?"

You shrugged, not wanting to answer it. You picked up a loose pair of denim jeans that you had found stuffed away at the back of your closet. Pushing it into his hands, you told him to go change.

Apparently, your instructions fell on deaf ears. "What happened, Y/N? Answer me. Please."

You moved your gaze to his clothes, not wanting to focus on the thoughts that rushed back when you thought of him. What had happened? You moved your hands to your sides, resisting the need to hold him and know him all over again. "The hoodie looks good on you. Would you-"

"So do our hands." He held yours, snugly fitting his palm- your calloused fingers against his calloused ones, heat burning in the sleeping embers of your palm. His eyes gazed at the joint fingertips almost reverently. "They fit well."

"Taehyung, now is not the time-" You begin, cut off by his frantic breathing.

"When is the time, Y/N? When will I get to live? When will I get to feel like a human? When will I be innocent?"

His hand caressed your palm, touching your forearm, your elbow, your shoulder, and your cheek -leaving a burning trail behind him everywhere he touched. You shivered. "Do you know how long I have wanted you, Y/N? Years. Seven years, now. I have loved you for years. I have wanted you for years. I did all sorts of things to remember you while in jail- kept asking for you, kept calling for you. I didn't want to forget you, Y/N. Not you. I couldn't forget you, no."

He pressed your palm to his chest, and you could feel a dull thump echo through the clothes, reverberate in your palms. "That fire, Y/N. My passion in the promises I'd made to you. It never went anywhere. I always loved you. I always will. You can't make me leave again, not again. Please, no."

He held your palm up to his cheeks, not regarding the tears that were streaking your cheeks and his. "You feel me, right? It's me. Taehyung. I am the one you trusted. I'm the same. Trust me again. Please."

You tried to hold back the tears that threatened to slide down your cheeks, not wanting to pain Taehyung anymore. He held your forehead to his, pressing on the back of your head to meet his - upclose, you could see the redness that clouded the shine that his eyes would normally have. You couldn't hold back your tears anymore, nearly whimpering when you saw how broken he was- sirens swimming in the whirlpool of his eyes, singing songs of misery. "You know me, right? Do you know me? Do you recognize me? Kim Taehyung, police cadet. Your friend. Your classmate. You know me, right?" He asked, nose nearly brushing yours. "Do you know me?"He cried, eyes washing over the fire that ignited behind his pupils. You didn't see a vandal, or a criminal, or a friend. You saw a broken man.

"Taehyung, oh, Tae," you cried, putting your hands on his shoulders, watching him slink down to the ground as his body trembled and shivered. You wrapped your arms close around his figure, unable to understand his pain but just wanting it to go away.

You sat like that for a while, coaxing the tears and short whimpers out of him as he held onto your fingers, wanting to remember something he once had: you.

"I always asked for you, you know that?" Taehyung shivered as he spoke, even if the chills of the weather outside barely seeped into your home. "I always loved you. I don't know why they kept me there for so long, Y/N. I didn't do anything wrong. I don't know why I'm made to feel like this…" he trailed away, tears gathering at his chin as they endlessly flowed down his cheeks.

You glanced a nervous eye at the clock, wanting to make sure that you get to the station- no matter what happens. The bubbling of water distracted you from the ticking of the clock, and you turned off the stove. Scouring your cabinets for a chamomile tea bag was hard, but you knew you needed it. Taehyung always seemed to calm down with tea - you had used it multiple times before. Times of which you have multiple memories. Times you wish to forget.

Why did I ever love Taehyung? The question kept echoing in your mind as you leaned on top of the kitchen counter top. Things would have been so much simpler if simply looking at him wasn't so hard. His smile, his behaviour, his tears - it was all but a painful reminder of what you could have been if things had gone different. If only.

You poured the hot water into the mug you had settled on the kitchen top, watching the water bloom into a serene shade of yellow as you dipped the tea bag into it repeatedly. You prepared one mug, then another, hearing the soft declarations Taehyung kept repeating while he was seated.

All you had wanted to study was forensic science, and that was simply for one reason: you didn't want to interact with people.

People are complicated, over emotional beings. and you couldn't help but feel helpless every time you had to encounter a suspect. You would constantly be told by your professors to see them as lawbreakers - but all you tried finding was signs of humanity in them. That even the most vicious killers had scope for reform. That's why you stuck to the subjects you wanted - you were good at finding signs of life, not squashing them. You consistently failed those classes, without any doubt. And today, it seemed like all those classes were laughing at you.

"Here." You handed the mug to Taehyung, who muttered thanks. He rubbed his hands once or twice on the pants you told him to change into and took a sip from the warm tea. You resisted the urge to reach out and wipe the tears that lined his face, and try and wipe the scars of the past that had scarred him so badly - but you couldn't. You were a mere spectator in the game of his life. You couldn't possibly do anything other than hurt him more.

"Thank you. For letting me express all of it. I could finally say everything that I wanted to before I was forbidden from speaking about it again." Taehyung tapped against the mug, fingernails resting on ceramic as the sun slowly headed westward. "I'm sorry that I've been such a burden to you, Y/N. I wonder if I can do anything to reduce the pain and confusion I put you through - I doubt I can." He looked at you carefully, though you couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Thank you."

You let his words echo in the room, preoccupied with your thoughts. It hurt you to see him so broken, and you couldn't help but worry about him.

"Taehyung, I-" You opened your mouth to respond, watching Taehyung pay attention to every move you made - only to be interrupted by your phone loudly ringing.

"Sorry, this must be important." You got up to get your phone, watching Taehyung slump in his seat from the edge of your vision.

"It's the chief," you announced, picking up the phone.

He got straight to the point. "Come to the station, soon. Bring Taehyung with you." he told, his voice laced with a rather sharp edge- a tone that you had recognized in the years you had worked under him. Things were- most probably- not good.

You responded with a simple "yes", mind dwelling on the impending result that Taehyung would get. You felt that it would be unlikely that he would be going to jail- at least, you hoped so.

Turning to Taehyung, you tried to hide the fear and shakiness that lined your voice. "Let's go."

Taehyung sighed, playing with the mug as he rose up. "It's time, isn't it?"

"Good morning, Sir." You greeted the chief as he hurried into the small office, giving Taehyung a glance and then facing you.

"Morning." He gruffly responded, turning to your laptop. "We found an eyewitness for the vandalism, so we are getting them for the interrogation as well."

"Another interrogation? We've already done it, sir, and all the information is recorded here. I doubt it will be necessary-"

"Please, Y/N," He calmly said. "Leave the decision about it being necessary to me."

You stepped back, subconsciously edging closer to Taehyung - a move noticed by the chief as well.

"Y/N," he began, "I need to speak to you. In private. Step outside for a few moments, please."

You nodded, briskly walking towards the doors and yanking them open. There was a warm gust of wind that blew across your face, and you turned to face the chief.

"Y/N," the chief began, before pausing for a moment, "Officer Y/N. I'm going to need you to think clearly now."

"Yes." You set your features as tightly as you could, not wanting to seem distracted in any way.

"Do you have any type of bias in this case, perhaps due to your past relation with him?" he looked quizzically at you, as if trying to decipher an enigma scribbled onto your face.

Your blood chilled, for some reason. Were you having any bias? "No, sir."

The chief hummed - you couldn't make head or tail of his reaction. He kicked at a pebble before continuing. "From the recordings I heard the previous night in the office, and the way you let him come with you to freshen up a bit, one particular thing has struck me: you were trying to find reasons for Taehyung to be justified as a victim, weren't you?"

You gulped before responding. "Yes, sir. I believe the culprit committed vandalism as a coping mechanism to get over the hurt caused over the years."

The chief sighed heavily. "Well then," he said, "I suggest we continue with our investigation, and find a way to make sure the culprit in the matter is stable as well. We can't have repeated cases like these - we have a reputation to uphold for the police as well."

You nodded stiffly. "Yes, sir."

The chief sighed again, glancing at the street. "Our witness should be here soon." He turned to you again. "Funnily enough, she volunteered as a witness with CCTV backup to claim that Taehyung had vandalized her shop too. Apparently she heard you arrest him last night - so we have to hear her out."

The chief turned again to the road, eyes narrowing in hopes of spotting the witness soon. "The investigator whom she contacted has said she is a reliable witness, but I'm going to need to verify her statement nonetheless." He turned back, heading into the office.

You stared at the road that the chief was looking at before - the direction from which the supposedly reliable eyewitness would come, before heading back inside.

Taehyung was still slumped in his seat, fingers tracing drawings all over the pants you had given him. The chief was shuffling around behind the desk, pulling two spare chairs ahead - one for Taehyung, you presumed, and one for the eyewitness - whoever that would be.

"Mr. Kim Taehyung," the chief began, "there has been an eyewitness who has offered their testimony - whether it is to defend you, or further establish evidence of you vandalizing public spaces, I'm not yet aware. We shall be interrogating them - and maybe you, as well, now."

Taehyung rose up from the corner he had settled into, and shuffled into the seat the chief had set for him, wordlessly.

The door opened to reveal an older lady, dressed in a purple shaded hanbok, hair delicately pulled back into a tight bun and eyes peering around the whole office in curiosity. She found the chief, walking closer to the desk where he was arranging the records. "I'm here as the eyewitness..?"She said, looking at both you and the chief.

"Ah, yes. I presume you're Ms. Park?" The chief asked, pulling the chair out for her to settle into it. Under the light that shined across her face, you could make out the wrinkles that lined her skin and the greys in her hair - not that that was relevant to what would happen.

"I saw him vandalize the outside of my store a few days ago," she earnestly began, pulling out pictures that she had taken of the design on her window. "I'm a florist, you see. His designs are clearly inspired by that, aren't they?" She pushed the pictures in front of your vision, and you could see what she meant - the designs of orchids, hibiscus and asters stared back at you, intricately painted onto the glass windows of the florist's shop.

She pulled out more pictures. "There's been similar instances all over the neighbourhood- the other florist had a rose, the school received drawings full of children's stories and fairy tales, and had their walls painted with similar stories. In fact, the restaurants around here even said that their menus were drawn onto the streets, right in front of their doorstep."

The chief looked at the pictures carefully, with you peering at them as well, taking in the detail that Taehyung had while he worked while making each of his works- no, vandalising, you corrected yourself. He raised an eyebrow at the eyewitness, who seemed to shrink into her seat. "What does this bring forward as evidence for or against the culprit? We already know what the crime is, and its details. We just have to determine a punishment- either a hefty fine or jail. Do you have anything that can justify him getting exempted from either?"

Ms. Park looked at you and the chief before turning to Taehyung apologetically, placing a hand on his knee - as if consoling him. "I think that at the end of the day, all he was doing was beautifying the neighbourhood, wasn't he? And most of the residents here don't have a problem with it-" the chief looked at her incredulously- "so please, don't punish him or something. A lot of people appreciate his work in our neighborhood, you know?"

"But we have been receiving complaints about him since the past few days," the chief said. "Why the sudden change in opinion?"

Ms. Park fidgeted with the hem of her hanbok for a few moments, shaking her head nervously. "Some of us shopkeepers were really bothered by it at first, yes, but we also had some customers come over to inquire about the artwork. It looked professional to them. So we came to an ultimatum : we will let this young man paint and draw for us, on our walls, as much as he wants - as long as it's pretty," she emphasized, one hand patting her chest, "we'll pay him to do it."

You held back a sob as you saw Taehyung's eyes glimmer - a ray of hope shining in them.His knee bounced up and down- a habit you knew was something he had had since years - and he smiled softly when Ms. Park squeezed his hand. You felt like things were finally going to go well. The chief exhaled roughly before rubbing his forehead, glancing at Ms. Park, who smiled at him in the hope that he would understand her reasoning.

"The law, honestly, doesn't care about intentions- I don't think I really understand why I should even let him go. Vandalism is a punishable offence, and the perpetrator has been aware of its consequences. Why the sudden feeling to save him?" The chief questioned, eyes steely and tough.

Ms. Park hesitated for a few moments. "I believe he deserves a second chance." She pulled her chair ahead, the metal ends scraping against the tiles, and pleaded once again. "He was arrested for years for something he hadn't even done - and now, might face a few more months in the same place for simply being artistic. I don't think it deserves punishment."

"That's for the law to decide, not you, madam." The chief sternly said. "I suggest you leave such decisions to us."

The room remained tense and quiet for the next few moments, and your eyes were trained on Taehyung. You noticed the quiver in his hands, the way he shrunk into his chair - as if to hide away from whatever the upcoming decision would be.

Ms. Park was the first to interrupt the loud silence. "Oh, come on. Let me just pay for the boy's bail."

The clock chose that moment to loudly announce the next hour: was it eleven? Twelve? You weren't paying attention. You only saw the way Taehyung rose up from his seat - in happiness, you thought - with fists sticking to his sides. "No. I won't accept it."

You felt the chief look with just as much disbelief as you did. Why was he so hellbent on being a perpetrator when he could be free?

Ms. Park laughed. "No. I'm not listening to that whole self righteous thing that you probably have," she swatted the air with her hand, as if to push away any explanations Taehyung could give.

"Look, ma'am. I have the money to get a bail, or even pay the fine. I don't want you to pay for me and then hold it above my head like a massive favour you have done for me." Fire blazed in his eyes as he spoke up, rather indignantly. "I can take care of myself."

"To hell with that attitude," Ms. Park said. "I decided to help you because I didn't want you to suffer once again because of misunderstandings." She pulled Taehyung back to sit on his chair, clasping his hand between her wrinkled ones. "You had to go through so much pain at such a young age - no one deserves that. I was a mere bystander at the time you were arrested, and I regretted it then. I still regret it now."

She sighed before caressing the back of his hand lovingly, thumb gently pressing on the skin- as if to feel the pain those hands had to go through, and you thought you saw a hint of a tear on his cheeks. "So don't question me for 'saving' you, or something - what you did was perfectly fine for me. I love the way my street looks now, and so do the neighbours. All that really remained was the artist's identity- and now that I know it's you, I don't feel any sort of guilt in justifying what you did."

You were right. Taehyung was crying. It wasn't silent tears that rained gently down his cheeks, it was a whole thunderstorm. You saw the chief turn away, from the corner of your vision, but you couldn't bring yourself to do the same. He was biting on his bottom lip to hold back any of the sobs or whimpers that came, head lowering to hide the tears.

Ms. Park simply caressed his hand, over and over, till he calmed down enough to wipe his tears with his free hand. And when he raised his head up, you saw him like a new person. The wound up Taehyung you had met again a few hours ago was slowly vanishing - in his stead, there was a free Taehyung who smiled like the world's burden had been lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you," he murmured.

The chief sighed again. "I still don't understand how it came to this."

"Neither do I," Ms. Park laughed. "But it is what it is. We'll pay the fine."

"I'll do it," Taehyung started, only to be shushed by the elder lady. "I want to do it. Let me do it." She turned again to the chief, the bubbly happiness giving way to seriousness. "You can make sure he pays the fine, right? Withdraw the complaints for us too."

The chief looked at you and nodded, and you got to work - carefully opening the laptop again and making sure that you transferred the report from 'investigation' to 'resolved', and that the complaint was withdrawn.

The chief, meanwhile, made physical records of it, and informed Taehyung of the fine - which, despite his insistence, Ms. Park paid off, whipping out a cheque she had kept ready, somehow. You added the details to his resolved record as the chief dictated them to you, keeping them for future references - which you hoped would only be needed to prove his innocence in any situation.

Nearly twenty minutes of details, questioning, and a written assurance from Taehyung that he would be liable to arrest if he continued illegal activities, it was done. Taehyung was free.

The chief read over the details once again, thoroughly, eyes getting heavier and softer with every document he checked. Once it was all done, filed, and you had stacked the records back in the drawers they were placed in, the chief sagged into the chair, hands clutching the steel arms for support.

"Thank God," he whispered, eyes closed. "You're fine now." He got up shakily, hands wiping at his eyes to erase any traces of the tears that had possibly leaked out. He walked around the table, reaching for Taehyung - as if beyond the lines of that desk, his duties as an officer stopped and those as a teacher resumed. "Don't you dare do that again, Taehyung. Never again." He held his student by the shoulder tightly, gripping him and shaking him a little - like a parent would scold a kid. "Live a good life, please."

Taehyung nodded frantically, eyes still wide in disbelief as he ignored the grubby tear streaks on his face. "I will, sir." He had his hands placed politely in front of him, trembling fingers clutching onto the rough denim fabric of the old, loose jeans you had made him wear.

"Live well," the chief repeated again, thumping Taehyung's shoulder once and then turning around to collect the documents he would need to take with him. He bowed to Ms. Park, who acknowledged him before something at a corner of the small office caught her eye, and turned sharply to you. "Officer Y/N," he began, and you tensed a little bit more. "There was an opening last night in the forensic science department that I got notice of," he said, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips when he saw how your demeanor brightened. "Reach the head office tomorrow in the morning at ten, and I'll give you the details. All the best."

You hastily held back the sudden smile that threatened to split on your face, smartly saluting your senior before he turned around to leave the office. As he opened the door, you felt a burst of warmth all over your body - the heat of the sunshine rushing into the room.

Ms. Park walked from her corner to Taehyung, taking his palm between hers and squeezing. "I'm happy that you're free now, Taehyung." She looked carefully at his face - sternness making way for soft concern, and said, "Live wisely. If you need money, or a job to get you started, come to my shop - it's the one you painted with orchids. You remember it, right?"

Taehyung responded with a rather choked 'yes', nodding his head frantically. He placed his other, trembling hand upon the lady's hands, and solemnly thanked her.

"That's not needed, I told you." She smiled, before patting his cheek. "You deserve to let yourself live, so use this chance well. Work hard." She turned her head to look through the window behind her, groaning a bit at the sight of the brightly burning sun. "I better leave now - it seems that I'll end up getting a sunburn the nearer to twelve it is." She turned back to Taehyung, smiling softly, and patting his cheek. "Turn up at the shop tomorrow morning, we'll figure something out."

"Oh, and officer?" she faced you, pointing in the corner where she was standing a few moments before. "I think my grandson had left his plushie over here a few days ago - it's this one, right?" You followed where her hand was pointing, finding a pumpkin plushie left casually on top of a table. "Sungwoo told me he had lost it some time ago, so I just thought it was this one," she laughed awkwardly.

"I think it is his, he had come yesterday to file a missing complaint for it too," you said, causing Ms. Park to laugh. "He really loves it, doesn't he?"

"He's not slept well since it went missing. Anyways, I better take it with me, if that's all."

"Just a moment, ma'am," you stopped her hastily. "He'd left a note for the plushie too - I believe Peter?"

The elderly woman laughed at her grandson's antics, taking the note you offered her and grinning as she read it. "Yes, yes, Peter. I'll take the note with me. Thank you so much for everything, officer."

Thank you, you wish to say - unable to understand how she volunteered to be an eyewitness and defend the one person you cared so much for. Maybe words wouldn't be enough for you to convey how grateful you were to her, so you simply bowed to the woman.

She took Taehyung's hand again, gently pressing on the back of his hand. "Your mother used to help me out in the shop, you know." Taehyung nodded, and she smiled. "Your hands are like hers. Delicate, yet strong. You can craft beauty with this hand, Taehyung." She squeezed his hand, smiling. "Don't just let that beauty slip away from you."

She patted his hand again, before turning to you and smiling, and heading out. The sunlight bounced off her gray hair to shine on Taehyung as you looked at him - even with a tired expression, he looked more alive than you had seen him in the last few hours.

"I'm free," he said, saying it aloud and letting himself feel the sensation for a few moments.

He turned to you, watching the way your eyes told him that you understood everything you wanted to tell him - even the things he himself didn't understand. "I'm free, Y/N," he repeated, carefully examining his wrists that were once bound with handcuffs - no. There were no restraints there.

His eyes panned around the room. There was no investigator who questioned him about why he simply couldn't admit his crime. No one who made fun of him for seeking comfort in his art - even if it was illegal. "I'm really free," he murmured again.

Taehyung leaped towards you, pulling you close and holding you tight, as if unable to believe that you were there with him: and that he was here with you for as long as he wanted to be. You let your arms circle around his neck, one curling through the hair at his nape and pulling him further into your embrace, and the other spread out over his back - trying to remind yourself that yes, he was here, with you.

"Thank you," you felt him murmur into your shoulder.

"For what?"

"Just being here. With me." He sighed, further tightening the hands that rested around your waist. "After so many unfamiliar faces over the years, seeing yours feels like a reward of sorts for behaving well."

You laughed at him, slapping his back light heartedly. "Don't talk like you did anything wrong all those years ago. It's not good." You let your hands pane across the expanse of his skin, feeling him cling on to you as you tried to calm him down. "I'm happy for you, Tae."

He held you like that, for a few more moments - like you were slowly pulling him back into what could be his new normal life. Waking up every day in a room that doesn't have steel bars as a door. Not having to crash at the old house that had haunted him for years. Not having to hide his face in the fear that someone would taunt him for his past. Actually doing something that made him feel happy, confident, and alive.

"I'm happy too," he murmured into your shoulder. You hummed as he looked beyond your frame to see the streets outside the window - seeing how they were illuminated in daylight. How animatedly people were talking about what their plans for the day were. A kid kept hopping on a chalk drawing of hopscotch he had drawn on the footpath, clutching onto a plushie that oddly seemed like a pumpkin. Someone walked around their stall, setting things up for the day.

You pulled him away from your grip to look at him again - not wanting to forget any part of him in any way. "I still care for you as much as I did all those years ago, you know." You put your hands on his biceps, just as you used to do when you had to knock sense into your friend. "You better not hide anything from me now."

"I have no intentions of," he grinned. "Thank you very much."

You giggled, a feeling you hadn't felt in years fluttering around your stomach like butterflies.

"About us," Taehyung began, holding your hands in his, "You know that I love you, right?" You felt yourself tense up, and probably Taehyung did too, as he squeezed your hands. "I'm not in any hurry. I want to take some time to understand myself and what I want to do before I think of anything with you. But when I'm settled, and I'm someone I can be proud of, I want to come back to you. Be with you forever." He let go of your hands to hold your cheeks, smiling as he saw your big eyes peer at him. "You'll let me, right?"

Your eyes softened. "Of course, Taehyung."

"Tae." He corrected you, coming closer to press a kiss on your forehead.

You smiled when he moved back, glancing down at all of him and laughing. "For beginners, how about we get you clothes to change into?"

He looked down at his clothes, laughing with you. "Let's go, then?"

You nodded at him, pulling him out of the office, and locking it securely before turning to a widely grinning Taehyung. "I have a feeling I'm going to love the daytime. It's just so positive, and nice, don't you think? Really warm all over."

"You're just saying that because you lived like a night owl," you laughed at him, watching his eyes sparkle in the sunshine.

"Yeah, that wasn't the best way to live, was it?" He clicked his tongue and frowned. "Guess I better start living well now. To new beginnings, then, Officer!!" He grinned and poked your forehead.

You watched Taehyung skip over the pebbles that were lined outside the office, walking freely on the streets, feeling the dread that you had let build up in your heart for so long slowly drain out of you. "Wait for me!" You screamed behind him, running to catch up to him. To new beginnings, you thought.

a/n: hopefully, this piece of writing was worth your time 😊 thank you so much for reading graffiti and chalk!! I'd love to hear any feedback you have. Feel free to send it in as a comment, reblog, or as an ask! love, hazel 💞

taglist: @taejinnies (the torture is over bahaha), @xiaokoo, @thedarkwinterrose, @shatzkrinslinzki

masterlist

83 notes · View notes

darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years

Text

The Dark Team (part 10)

<<Previous part Masterlist Next part>>

(Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @the-departed-potato, @jesuswasnotawhiteman, @idontknow296 , @beksib, @spythoschei, @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7)

Warnings: adorable jerks.

As the sun finally came up (for what it felt like an eternity, a night with seven nights inside of it), you rubbed your eyes and greeted your teammates, who somehow were both already up and having breakfast.

“I was wondering when would you join us”, said Loki, covering his mouth with the manners of a Prince while eating a piece of something. “Barnes made dessert for breakfast”, pointed out more amazed than reproachful.

“Desert?”, you laughed. “A cake?”.

“Yes”, said Loki, very sure of himself, and Bucky rolled his eyes and chuckled, correcting him.

“It’s a pancake, Loki. It’s a normal breakfast in Midgard”.

“Actually, probably just in this country”, you added. “What do you normally have in Asgard?”. As you chattered, you started getting ready and fixing your hair, stealing a piece of pancake from Bucky’s plate. “Wow, I didn’t know you could cook. It’s actually great”, you said, tasting a mouthful.

“Well, as in Midgard’s nordic areas, back home it’s often fruit and bread, or porridge with dried fruits” he recalled distracted, and immediately interrupted himself with “are we not supposed to alert the rest of this?”.

“About Buck knowing how to cook? Yeah, I’m impressed, we should tell everyone”.

“I guess we should’ve told them yesterday, instead of going to sleep”, said Bucky, ignoring you. “Only God knows where that supersoldier is now”.

“I don’t, actually”.

“I didn’t mean... nevermind”, he sighed. “I'm calling Stark and let’s hope we don’t get too yelled at”.

You recalled yesterday’s events. You had so many dreams, you could barely remember being awake at all. First, the bearded man’s nightmare. Then, something about… the compound? Then, you remembered distinctly, Loki speaking Old Norse begging Thor about something. You remembered the phonetic of the words, but they were all gibberish now. Then, a last dream, something about buying rotten apples and being forced to eat them by Thanos. Your imagination surely was active on the nights.

Loki seemed paler than usual as he stared at you, without even blinking.

“What?”, you snapped him out of your head.

“You dreamt with me?”, he muttered, getting up and cleaning his plate with a snap.

"I also dreamt with Thanos".

“Don’t get too attached, I’ll be back to Asgard soon”, he promised, or alerted. Intentions unclear.

“I’m not attached”, you protested. You thought he’d smirk or be the smug idiot he usually was. He didn’t. Instead, he looked unsettled; disturbed even. “I didn’t dream with you on purpose, it was probably because of yesterday’s thing”.

“What thing?”, peeped in Bucky. “Oh no, did you two fuck?”.

“I didn’t let them die, big deal. I was just saving myself the amount of annoyance it would be to have Stank on my neck all week long if your blood was sort of in my hands”.

“Sounds like a lot of deflecting emotions to me, buddy”, said Bucky, and you chuckled.

“He’s just embarrassed he saw himself cry in one of my dreams from last night”, you mocked. He got up and you didn’t get to see his face, but presumed it would hold something near a death threat.

“You two have an intense bonding experience and decide to concentrate on it with more insults? You know, this is why you’re single”, added Bucky.

“It wasn’t a bonding experience”, you said, cutting-glass sharpness in your gaze.

“I’m not single”, corrected Loki at the same time, with an equally whetted voice.

Both Bucky and you looked at him with plate-wide eyes, waiting for him to elaborate. He didn’t. Neither of you asked, but surely shared a fair amount of desire to gossip about it. Oh, how much you wished to be able to tell Bucky about Loki re-reading Hamlet to reminisce about his beloved. But there was a line you wouldn’t cross in there; you knew where to stop.

“Mr. Stark”, you called through the earbud, “you there, sir?”.

“Painfully”, he answered. You connected the earbud to your phone and held it on speaker, so the rest of the team could join. “Tell me more about what I’m gonna yell at you three about”.

As you walked him through (almost) every event in the past twenty four hours, you could feel how his hands traveled all the way up to his face, and had to hold in a few sighs of disgust and utter hate towards… Well, you weren’t sure towards what, exactly.

“Are we grounded, dad?”, spat Loki with sarcasm.

“Listen, Rock Of Ages, if I could, I’d have you in a prison cell still to this day. Don’t push any buttons”.

“Come on, it’s been, what, nine years since he last fucked up something in here?” you defended him, not quite sure why. Loki grew nervous as Tony laughed obnoxiously at him.

“Sure. He didn’t keep fucking things up in here after that”.

“I can assure you I didn’t. How Odin manages his deals with Midgard does not concern me”, explained Loki, and you frowned at the mention of that name. Of course, Loki Odinson. That was where that name resonated from. Besides the Mythology. Though you weren't sure until where those stories were true or not; in there, Loki wasn't even Thor's brother.

“Going back to your current screw up, what happened to the civilians you frightened in the process? I imagine they didn’t realize about the new supersoldiers”.

“They should be extremely blind or idiotic to not have noticed, since the soldier jumped out of nine floors and survived”, answered Loki, looked at you up and down, and kept going “so, no. They have probably slept on it”.

“Wait, what?”.

“What?”.

“Nine floors? Pretty sure Capsicle and Barnes wouldn’t survive that either”.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”, you asked, concerned.

“I’m afraid so. Loki and Bucks won’t cut it, especially when we don’t know the number of new super-supersoldiers out there. And you’re coming back to the compound, directing the mission from the distance”.

“Are you kidding? I’m fine here. I’m all levels of mean, you said it yourself”.

“You’re too young and inexperienced in combat for these kinds of things, and they have special genetic advantages in their bodies, you know, the serum”, explained Tony as you rolled your eyes. But you understood exactly what he meant, and in fact, you agreed. “Do you understand?”.

“Yes; supersoldiers and Gods only”.

“Good kid. Now, Teleporting Popsicle, would you mind taking there with you the rest?”.

With an overly dramatic sigh, Loki vanished behind a party of green lights and reappeared in a matter of seconds in the same spot, holding carelessly Thor and Steve’s arms. Thor, for obvious reasons, was unfazed by the trip. Rogers, on the other hand, seemed about to throw up. There wasn’t anything balance would help with when your cells are reconfigurated inside and out in a fraction of a second. How the hell did he do all of that? You knew it was magic, but it still wouldn’t stop you from being absolutely astonished by it.

Loki arranged his hair behind his ears and locked eyes with you, followed by his typical smugly smile and a “thank you”, as if you were praising him in your thoughts. Oh, wait.

“I didn’t say anything”, you retorted, hoping to maintain at least a drop of pride left.

“You thought I was impressive”. You were going to correct him but realized that absolutely astonished was even worse.

“And since when do you offer gratitude?”.

“In case you wonder, yes, they’ve been like this the whole mission. You’ll get used to it”, said Bucky to Steve and Thor.

They started arranging their things and got updated as thoroughly as they could. Meanwhile, you stood exactly where you were the following ten minutes, absorbed in your own thoughts. Once you snapped out of them, Loki was still staring at you, standing in the same place too.

“What?”.

“I hate to break it to you, but…”.

“What?”.

“I’m your best option”.

“You’re my what?”.

“Your best option”.

“You’re not giving much context”.

“You’re going back to the compound. I figured you’d think about the mission or something about it for the past ten minutes you were zoned out, but apparently you only have room to think about how terrified you’re of that quinjet”.

Your palms got sweaty and a shiver ran through your spine by the only thought of remembering how heights felt under your feet, and how a simple machine wouldn’t stop you from landing on water and drowning, or crushing against a building and being burned to the bones until all you become is dust and…

“Hello? You’re spiraling again”, he snapped you back. “It’ll be just a blink. You won’t even notice”.

“Uh-uh. No, I’m not doing that. I’m waiting for whatever Tony sends to come and get me”.

“You’ll feel terrible”, he said, and he was right. For a moment, you considered accepting his offer. “And I’m the best”. His humble offer.

“I’m sure you are, but it’s not my best option”.

He sighed.

“Will you allow me to teleport you or not?”.

“Heavens, no”.

“Alright, you little stubborn human mortal”.

“Long nickname, you better come up with a shorter one”.

“Like what?”.

“I don’t know, something that bothers you. I’m not the one supposed to make your insults towards me”.

“Let me think”, he said, looking around the room. His gaze landed on the still unwashed plate of Bucky’s breakfast. “Pancake”.

“Not... that’s not an insult”.

“Why? They’re too sugary. They rot your teeth”.

“Yeah, but it’s not derogatory”.

“Fucking pancake”.

“It doesn’t cut it”.

“But what’s wrong with my pancake?”.

“It’s actually a pet name. You know, like the ones we said when we were in...”, but apparently that was all a distraction (of course, he was the God of Lies, after all), and when you were already thinking about how to explain to him why he shouldn’t call you pancake, he stood in front of you and held you by both sides of the arms, surrounding you almost completely, holding you still.

And just as he said, a blink later you were in the compound, perfectly fine. Peter and Tony greeted you as he pulled out and you stood there in shock. So, you really just needed some stabilization to not die in the intricate process of teleportation. Just before stepping away from you, he leaned over your shoulder and his whisper made your ear ticklish, saying “you’re welcome” with a grin. You didn’t look at him.

You started to gather all your stuff; papers, maps, laptops, and getting ready for the planning of the following steps of the mission as fast as you could, until you realized Loki was still there, and Tony and Peter were waiting for you. For what, you weren’t sure.

“Aren’t you going?”, you asked Loki.

“No, I’m staying, apparently”.

“Why?”.

“That’s what Stark was thinking, I don’t know”.

“Hey, Elsa, don’t read my mind, would you?”, snapped Tony. He was about to explain himself, but you kept talking to Loki, cutting his words.

“What’s wrong with you that you read everyone’s thoughts all the time? You know how unethical that is? It’s invasive”.

“You say that because you think slow”.

“Untrue, I’m actually a very fast thinker”.

“How would you know? You’ve never read anyone’s minds so, how could you possibly…?”.

You stopped dead on your tracks, and didn’t listen to what he was saying. That phrase. That exact phrase you dreamt with. The darkness. It was the exact same voice of the darkness, you remembered. It wasn’t darkness, it was his voice. Were you just imagining things? Too suggestionated? Definitely. How could you dream with something you’ve never heard before?

“Sorry to interrupt, you two seem to be having a long, unnecessary and avoidant conversation that could be resumed in three tiny words, as you did all mission long” interfered Tony, sick of listening to you two. Loki was observing you as heedful as he could; your thoughts had caught his attention. You couldn’t read his face. “So, I’m gonna cut it shortly”.

“What?”, you went back to reality. You needed to actively ignore Loki’s gaze on you to actually pay any mind to Tony’s words.

“The rest of the team has another mission, and both Peter and you are technically still kids…” and as soon as you opened your mouth to argue, he shut it “no, don’t interrupt me. You know I’m right. So, I can’t leave you two alone for the entire week”.

“Oh”, you understood. Peter’s innocent eyes shone at the idea. Yours, not so much. “So, Loki is our babysitter”.

“Yes”, said Loki, while Tony answered “No” at the same time.

"What about Happy?", asked Peter.

“I think we can manage perfectly on our own. Besides, what makes you think he’s more responsible than me?”.

“He’s an adult”.

“He’s seventeen in human years, and fucked a horse”.

“Wow, someone has been stalking my mythology”.

“If you two quarrel too much, Peter will tell me and I’ll be back with Clint Barton in charge of you three. So you better behave. Alright, I’m leaving”.

“Wait! What are the rules?”, asked Peter. You grabbed your face and Loki muttered what a damn nerd.

“Eh, don’t burn down the compound, I don’t know, kid”, said Tony getting inside his bright red suit.

“The bar is on the floor. Let’s play macarena”, you whispered.

#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fanfic #loki headcanon #loki fic #fanfic mcu #loki masterlist #laufeyson #loki friggason #loki x gender neutral reader #loki x avenger!reader #loki x y/n #mcu loki #marvel #marvel loki #avengers #tom hiddleston

102 notes · View notes

the-clocktower · 4 years

Note

Hey, CW! I love your blog and personally apologize that you were forced into making it (I feel that on many levels), but, uh, quick question... how bad are you at web design because this design is awful and I'm sorry. The body text is a poor font choice for readability, the tag color is the same as the background, everything blends in FAR too much, there's no visuals whatsoever which is fine, maybe, if the colors differed, but you NEED a background of #4d0066 and an off-white text and also

Danny waited patiently after explaining his plan clearly and concisely, giving his friends the time that they needed to think everything over before deciding. He gave them twelve seconds, which, really, that was plenty of time. “So? C’mon, let’s get to work! CW is only gonna be distracted so long.”

“No, no, no, back up here. You stole their laptop- They have a laptop?” Tucker looked some mixture of delighted and confused, Danny feeling a surge of empathy for the same exact feelings he had gone through when discovering the laptop and subsequently the blog that CW had actually made (an event shortly followed by Danny being forced to sit down and finish his homework). “And you want to… what do you want to do?”

“Change their blog, duh. I mean, look- Here, let me show you what it looks like right now.” Danny, still in his ghost form, flew over to Sam’s large and ridiculously extravagant bed before letting himself fall and bounce a couple times before settling, making sure he was stable before pulling the borrowed laptop out of his backpack.

Sam and Tucker were quick to settle on either side of him, both of them making similar noises of disgust and horror once Danny brought up the correct blog, which, thank you, honestly. CW finally made a blog and apparently knew nothing about design.

“Jesus… I feel like I might actually cry over this- Did they use the same color for the text and background- What is this font- Danny. Danny, I can’t- I’m having an attack.” Tucker dramatically clutched his heart and fell backwards as he ‘died,’ Danny snorting as he turned to Sam.

“Well… it could definitely use some work,” Sam admitted, taking the laptop and getting to the customization screen in a few short clicks. “There, now if anything happens, they can blame me and you won’t have to go around pouting at being yelled at.”

“I don’t pout,” Danny muttered, leaning up against Sam as Tucker scrambled and moved to sit on Sam’s other side so she was now in the middle, laptop easily reachable by all of them. “Okay, so, that background color has got to go first. Like. Now.”

“No, no, we need a title for this blog first,” Tucker argued, leaning over to jab a finger at the screen. “Look at that empty space. It’s making me cry, Danny.”

“Boys, boys, settle down,” Sam made a clicking noise with her tongue, clicking around on the screen before bringing up a list of themes - free ones, Danny noticed. Honestly, disgustingly rich and she still searched for whatever was free or cheapest, which… fair. “We’re changing this blog theme, first. It’s disgusting.”

The three were silent as they scrolled through the choices, communicating in grunts, mutters, and disgusted noises. Danny was almost sure they wouldn’t actually get anywhere before he was jabbing the screen hard enough to move it, “There. That one. It’s perfect-”

“We are not giving him a Miraculous Ladybug themed blog, Danny,” Sam sighed, Danny offended at how Jazz the tone she used was. “We’re all better than that.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tucker snorted, finally shaking his head. “Forget it, colors and title first, then blog. At least with colors we’ll know what we’re looking for better, right?”

“Alright, alright,” Sam groaned. “Colors and title first. What should we use for a title? I don’t know enough about them to choose anything good.”

Danny blinked as the two turned to look at him, panicking for a moment before blurting out the first thing that came to mind. The looks only turned into confused frowns and baffled expressions, which, okay, fair, since Danny had spoken in Latin.

Clearing his throat, he spoke it more clearly, giving a shrug, “Pulvis et umbra sumus. It’s something I learned when they were helping me with Latin, it just means we are but dust and shadow.”

Sam and Tucker went quiet, shared a look, and then nodded together before Sam was typing it in with a quiet, “Fitting.” It really was, when Danny thought about it, so, there. That was one thing done. “Okay, next up is title font.”

Clicking open the options, Tucker was half-shouting at once, “Comic Sans! Sam, we gotta give him Comic Sans-”

“No, no, choose that Grumpy one, now that is perfect.” Plus CW’s reaction would be hilarious.

“What? No- Comic Sans!”

“But Tuck, c’mon, the pun-”

“Both of you shut up,” Sam snapped, glaring at the two of them almost at once which was actually impressive, if Danny had to admit to it. “We’re giving them 1785 Baskerville.”

Danny and Tucker were both quiet, sharing a long look before Tucker decided he wanted to become a ghost ahead of schedule, “Boo, you goth.” He was shoved off the bed for his troubles, something which Danny managed to not laugh at if only so he wasn’t shoved off as well.

Once Tucker crawled back onto the bed they got back to designing, arguing over colors (“Oh my God, it should not be taking this long to have a sample color just pick something!”), font choices (“No, screw you both, we’re going to use Google Fonts like a normal family we are not having another fight over this!”), and which theme they should go with (“You know what? Screw it- Screw it! We’re just going to use the Tumblr Official theme like heathens and edit that!”)

It was taking longer than Danny thought it would, but slowly and surely the blog was coming together, Tucker having firmly taken over once it got to the actual coding part of the website, which was how they ended up with transparent textures to go with their background color (“Aw, but, guys, c’mon, this texture looks like stars! How cool is that!”), a transparent texture for the posts themselves (“I know you like your stars, Danny, but it won’t work with the font color and look, the parchment fits, don’t you think?”), and even a cooler looking blog title (“You know what? Here, no, we’ll put a text-shadow command on the title- There. That looks pretty cool, don’t you think?”)

There were a few hiccups along the way in choices (“No, no, make his avatar shape a square, because… you know. He’s such a square.”), but at the end they had a nice blog that really had taken way too long and Danny was half-certain that CW was about to show up and yell at them any second.

“You know,” Sam said at the very end, “This is still kind of a boring looking blog, everything considered. We could have gone way more crazy with all of this.”

“I mean… yeah, I guess so,” Danny admitted, closing the laptop and carefully putting it back in his bag. “But I didn’t want to like, you know, really make something crazy, I guess. I mean… Their blog sucked, but it’s still their blog, you know?” Danny shrugged, floating off the bed and giving a light stretch. “Dunno, just figured I’d tweak it a little to fit them better instead of having them waste time on it. You know, show off that wise old mentor who cares and has everything together and stuff thing.”

Danny barely even finished before a pillow being thrown at his face, Tucker laughing as Sam booed him. “You’re too nice! Get that sickeningly sweet attitude out of my room!” She was grinning even as she ‘yelled’ at him, Danny rolling his eyes with a laugh as he did as told.

Not even half an hour later and Danny was back where he started, laptop returned to its proper place and back open and waiting.

It was the latest ask that he saw in the inbox that had him pausing, Danny reading through the ask and unable to help himself whatsoever as he snickered before clicking the ask to respond.

you know what asker? you’re absolutely right so lets try this out

-Danny

[Story and blog re-design by ibelieveinahappilyeverafter.]

#ask blog #danny phantom #clockwork #long post #text #(story)#(this post is basically saying danny took over the blog)#(and gave it a new look)#(blog owner is to friend as i am to danny)#(i hated their blog too much so i fixed it muah ha ha)

29 notes · View notes

adore-you-hs2 · 4 years

Text

For this fit I have decided to use lily James as my main girl mainly bc of how beautiful she is (but you can picture anyone you would like).

———

I hate pirates, they're filthy, cruel and horrible, I was absolutely sure I never wanted to meet one.

That was until I met him.

Ever since I was a young girl, I was taught to stay away from any kind of danger especially pirates. I hear tales of their attacks, of how they prey on the on ports and how they take pleasure on hurting the innocent civilians. I am lord Henrys, daughter. And never in my life have I met a pirate and I don't plan on meeting one soon.

I pulled back the lace curtains of my window, letting in the light of the morning sun enter my bedroom. I looked out my bedroom window. Like always, it's a typical boring day In port royal. Navvy vessels are docked in the bay while officers are rushing around doing their daily business. I wonder what it's like there outside in the ocean. I gaze at the currents and waves. The ocean is quite beautiful, I don't mind waking up to the glistening water every day.

I trace my fingers along the wooden windowsill. There's not much adventure in the life of a lady. My whole life has been planned out, actually.

I walked down the stairs of the manor, waiting for me at the bottom was none other than the commodore.

”shouldn't you be at the ceremony?” I ask him as I reached the bottom.

The ceremony ended an hour ago, miss James, was deeply disappointed to see wasn't there, he replied.

”I'm so sorry commodore, I forgot”.

”that's alright, ”he smiles. ” I have a very important question to ask you, Miss James”

He takes my hand and leads me out towards the docks. I gulp. He was a fine man. Marrying him would be a perfect match but I long for adventure and the commodore would fail to provide that.

”now, miss James, I have known you since you were a little girl, ” he says. We walk along the dock, his sweaty hand in my tiny one. ” and it would only be right if I marry a fine woman to match my image .” he turns to me” and you have grown to be a very fine woman, Miss James.”

I know where this is going and look away. I get uncomfortable when people call me ’Miss’. Suddenly I see something from the corner of my eye, I look out towards the ocean and see a huge ship with black sails disappear behind a cliff.

”Commodore!” I say alarmed, ”did you see that?”

He looks towards the direction I point at but by then, the ship has gone.

” I don't see anything, Miss James. Now what was I saying?”

I am pretty sure I saw something. I know I wasn't imagining it. I continue to stare at the cliff as if the ship would emerge again. The commodore starts to drone on, the mysterious ship distracts me from all he is saying.

”Miss James, is there something wrong?” he says.

I turn back to me, ” no, nothing wrong” I say with a forced smile.

He continues to talk while I think about the ship. black sails - I've never seen such a ship, but I have heard of one. A ship with black sails, a ship preying on ports and settlements for ten years, a ship crew by the damned. I instantly know what ship it is.

”commodore! pira-” there was a sudden boom as the front of the dock smashes into pieces. Wooded planks fly in all directions. The air also starts to fill with earsplitting screams as the ship with black sails come back Into view, firing cannons at the town.

I look at the commodore in horror as he squeezes my hand.

”get yourself out of here, go to the manor!” he yells at me over the noise.

”Whatever happens don't look back, just keep running”

I bolt down the streets. Everywhere I look, I see buildings on fire and pirates running around attacking two people. The town is in total chaos. By my side, windows are smashing and guns are firing, followed by clashes of swords and screams of Panic.

I run towards my home when a blast a few meters away Knocks me out. I tried to blink a couple of times but the world around me starts to blur, just as my eyes where about I close a pirate walks into view with long curly hair hiding over his shoulder and a long coat reaching his knees. A long sword is clutched tightly with his right hand and a pistol in the other. He was the last thing I saw before the world turns black

~~~~~

I wake with a pillow thrown at my face, I sit up. I must have overslept again and father was waking me up.

It seems as if I'm in a small room dimly lit by candlelight. Where am I? As my eyes start to adjust, I notice there is a table with charts on top and a long dining table with a bushel of fresh apples. There is also a glass window with no light singing through, I can tell it's night time. At the end of the room, laying on an armchair,is a sword.

” oh the princess is finally up”

I hear a voice and turn to its direction, surprised. Standing in front of me is a boy, No a man.

He has long curly hair the shade of mud, and hanging over his muscley shoulders he also had green sparking eyes that I could get lost in all day and a smirk across his face as he pierced Down at me.

His name is legendary in the sea, the ruthless young pirate has the world fearing him by gaining such fortune over the short years, the pirate also has a thirst for blood, tormenting the lives of enemies as well as the innocent and that was only a part of his reputation.

He's rumoured to be perfecting stunning, almost an angel says the number of women who were lucky enough to escape him.

He takes a few steps closer to me and I get I closer look at him as he gets into the candlelight.

” I know you, ” I say to him ”you’ re the one everyone is looking for. I see your face on the wanted posters all over town. Your Harold styles”

”captain styles, ” he growls with an annoyed look on his face. ” if you know you wouldn't dare speak my name without my permission”

I look up at him in disgust. ”where am i” I ask.

”you're on the rosebud revenge, this is the captain quarters princess”.

I let out a giggle, and he looked at me in confusion. ”the rosebud revenge isn't a very scary ship name, for someone like you”

”its not the name you should be scared of darling, but the person who owns it” he sat down on the bed next to legs, he looked me dead in the eye as he pulled out a tiny knife from his pants that was cover in blood

My eyes widen as he pulled it close in my face.

”what do you want from me” I ask horrified.

” I dont want anything from you, I was simply bored and seen your pathetic island” styles says.

I can't believe him, he and his crew killed innocent people because he was bored, I gave him a look of shock.

I watched as he ran the non-bladed side of the knife down my cheek causing blood to stain my skin, I gagged at the smell.

” you're disgusting, how could you do that they done nothing wrong to you” I snap at him

He chuckles and removes the knife away from my face ” your quite loud for a little thing aren't you”.

” I'm 19, you disgusting pirate. Just wait til my father sees you” I say to as he got up from the bed ”now take me home!”.

I followed him as I also got of the bed as stood in front of him, I need to act brave.

”dont talk to me like that you stupid little girl, your nothing but weak in the ship!” he grabbed me by the neck with his strong hand (I was suprized it doesn't snap from the strength) and pushed us up against the dining table.

” trust me, little girl you won't be the same of you go back there” I gasp in pain as he gripped my neck tighter.

”Why are you- saying all these things” I turned my face away from him and he moved his face to my ear unable to look him in the eye

” you wanna you know why, because I killed everyone on that damed island, from the firstborn to the very last dying man ” he whispered in my ear and chuckled at my reaction.

I turned to his as tears filled my eyes, the rumors were true he doesnt have a heart.

” you couldn't- no! You monster, how could you”

I sobbed in defeat as I realized I will never see my family again and how much everyone must have gone through.

Captain Styles squeezed my neck one final time before letting go of my neck, he did nothing but stare as I sank to the floor.

I rubbed my neck trying to smooth the pain.

He bends down so he was at my level and gripped my hair into his hand.

” trust me, princess, after I figure out what I'm gonna do with you, your gonna wish you died with them”

I chocked a sob

”save you stupid tears, I'm done for now ” he finally walked away from me and before he left room he threw a diamond ring at me .

” from your precious commodore, I took from him after I drained the blood from his body, you might want to clean his blood on your cheek, Princess”

And with that he left me so drown to my sorrow

-///

@c-h-e-r-r-y-y 😅

#harry styles blurbs #harry styles preferences #myedit #harry styles imagines #hs #harry styles fight #harrystylesficrecs

5 notes · View notes

mannapolis · 5 years

Text

9 August, 2019

I've never been convinced that talking about the rape was something that could do me any good. I mean, it surely would have done some good if I could have shared that terrible experience soon after it happened but there was absolutely nobody that I could trust to such a degree and my mother was and is the last person to whom I would like to talk about it. I don't remember how I managed to conceal from her my black eye and swollen nose that was probably broken (I never had an x-ray done to confirm that).

Recently, I came across a documentary about a Romanian woman who was kidnapped when she was eighteen, if I remember correctly. She was raped by a gang of men who kept her captive for a week or so and who then sold her to another gang; she was again raped by its members, taken abroad and forced to prostitute herself… She had no sexual experience before those things happened. It's absolutely impossible to imagine what she (and tens of thousands of other violated women around the world) has gone through. I know that even I can't imagine that although I was a victim of a brutal gang rape. But it wasn't my first sexual experience. I considered myself rather experienced when it happened, although I was only sixteen. And my ordeal lasted ”only” a few hours.

As I'm writing this I realise that there is a strong resistance in me against recalling that event. It's the most natural reaction and I keep wondering whether it's useful to dig up that grave. Perhaps, it is. That documentary made me realise something that I wasn't aware of. It isn't the rape itself that constitutes this tragic event. The rape itself was ”just” an unwanted sexual intercourse. I don’t want to belittle that part. It's a horrible thing to be forced to sexual act with three disgusting, stinking, aggressive, drunk, old men. This horrible memory is something I got and cannot, no matter what, get rid of.

But I forgot about the thing I have LOST, that I will not, no matter what, get back. The documentary about that girl made me realise it. She was talking about her experience with emotionless tone of voice that often shocks people (I remember that reaction from my group therapy where I mentioned the rape for the very first time). People can't understand how someone can talk about such horrible things showing absolutely no emotions. This is how we protect ourselves. I was caught by surprise when I started crying and couldn't stop sobbing as I was watching the documentary although I have never shed a tear for my own suffering.

What have I lost? Things that we take for granted (again). The sense of feeling secure in the world. Sure, I had known that evil existed but to know about evil and to be touched by it are two different things.

I've lost my innocence by being forced to perform sexual acts that perhaps I'd never have chosen to perform of my own will. I didn't lose my virginity but I lost my purity. Once you lose your purity, you can never be completely clean again. The touch of evil leaves a stinking stain on your soul and there is no such thing as soul cleaner.

I've lost a sense of personal boundaries. They had never been developed properly but an experience like this demolishes your boundaries to the ground. Some women having experienced sexual violence close themselves up completely. It's their way of re-establishing personal boundaries but such rigid and impermeable boundaries become a personal prison cell. Other women drop their boundaries completely and become sluts. I switch between both modes.

I lost the sense of being in control of my life. Again, it wasn't well developed to begin with but I definitely lost the possibility to develop it properly. Somehow the reins of my life keep sliding out of my hands as if they were covered with grease. I expect a catastrophe every single day and it's difficult to plan and implement while being in the state of constant threat.

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

I thought I should elaborate on the peace of mind I wrote about a couple of days ago. I realise that this expression quite vaguely describes the state I was in.

What did I mean by the peace of mind? First of all, two days later I'm not experiencing it quite the same. Maybe I'm getting used to it or, more likely, I'm slipping back into old thinking habits.

Back then, before the final cut I lived in constant anticipation, anxiety, longing and heartache. My heart was like a skittish animal, always trembling, insecure, jumpy. My mind on the other hand was continuously analysing my status in relation to F. I was continuously trying to figure out if he cares about me, how much, why not, whether there was anything I could do to show I'm worthy of being cared about. These questions were mixed with self-provided answers which I used to torture myself. Let's have a look at the rich repertoire of torture tools:

He doesn't care about me. Of course he doesn't care about me. He would if I was actually talented, smart, successful, young, beautiful… He would if I wasn't such a pathetic lobster from the bottom of the social hierarchy. I don't deserve a loving man because I'm a terrible mother, a completely worthless human being with no right to live among people. I should try and do something useful and meaningful with my life to win his love but I can't. I'll never do anything useful and meaningful with my life. A sad forty-two year old woman is of no use for any decent man. All I can hope for is a dick in my mouth… Oh god, could someone just end this torture and thrust a dagger in my heart? No, of course not. I don't deserve a noble death. I should slowly rot alive. That's my future…

All I ever wanted was to find someone to love who would love me the same way, someone I could trust completely, someone to share my dreams and nightmares, joys and fears, pains and pleasures… But what do I know about love? Apparently nothing. I look around and see people enjoying the comfort of deep and committed relationships and I keep asking myself: what is wrong with me? I've always known that I'm not a typical desired wife material but I thought I could find a compatible puzzle piece to make a great team. I guess I'm a broken puzzle piece and there is no way I could pair up with anyone for life. I know that deep inside I still have some hope but I also know that I will never make it to the happy ending. My Groundhog Day will always be the same...

Farewell peace of mind. Hello darkness my old friend…

How naive it was to think that peace of mind would stay with me. The only thing that will always be there for me is my depression, my only true companion till death do us part.

4 September, my own reply:

Darling!

I'm SO sorry that you have felt that way. I know it was awful. You felt so terribly mistreated and you thought it was your fault because due to your childhood experiences you have learnt to blame yourself for other people's lack of respect for you.

You are not a broken puzzle piece! And there is nothing inherently wrong with you! You just need a lot of love! And I'm going to give it to You! I love You! I love you very much! I'm sorry I haven't told you that before. I… I was confused myself. But I think I finally caught the Ariadne's thread and now I can slowly guide us out of this maze. Please, be patient with me. I can still get a bit confused at times but it doesn't mean I stopped loving you. It only means that I need to come back to my senses.

Please, reach out for me any time you need me, any time you feel that you are falling back into old thinking habits. I'll hug you, and kiss you and reassure you of my love.

You wrote: ”Oh god, could someone just end this torture and thrust a dagger in my heart?” See, your request was granted. F thrust a dagger into your heart. A few conclusion on that:

Ask God, and he will listen and give you what you ask for if he decides that this is something that you need.

Don't ask God for stupid things (I know it's not always easy to know which things are stupid but you can learn to tell stupid from smart)

God decided you needed to have that dagger thrust into your heart because it was the only way to make you realize that you have to PROTECT your heart, instead of just throwing it at random people hoping they'll catch it. That's not the way to treat your HEART. I understand that nobody taught you how to take care of it but finally I am here to do that. Actually I don't know how to do that, either, but I'll be reading, studying, learning, meditating and, most importantly, LISTENING TO your/my heart attentively.

Ok, maybe it was a bit naive to think that peace of mind will stay with you. It's not a thing, not a person or an animal. It can't just stay with you. It's a state of body and mind that can be achieved through conscious effort (at least in the beginning). And don't expect it to be permanent. We'll find eternal peace after death but here, on this planet, we live in a constant flow of different emotions - it's called life 😊

”Think of all the desperate, wounded people there are on the treadmill of what they think is love, and yet they can’t get off.

They’re searching for someone who will heal them and make them feel whole, but that person is not out there. No one can meet our deepest needs, no matter how hard we try, but yet we keep on searching.

My mom used to say, It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.The only problem with love addiction is there isn’t even a needle to be found.”

https://www.thehopeline.com/24-is-there-a-cure-for-love-addiction/

”To get free from love addiction, we must clearly understand how deeply the cravings for love penetrate our hearts. It’s what comes out of our hearts that affects everything else we do. There is no deeper emotional desire we have than to love and be loved.

King Solomon, whose been called the wisest man in the Bible, said:

Guard your heart above all else, for it determines the course of your life.”

”Emotionally, our hearts are extremely fragile and can be easily hurt, therefore sending us in the wrong direction of life. Our innermost being started out as a beautiful creation of God, but with wrong choices we can easily trash it and leave it sick and in great need.

Picture in your mind for a moment a beautiful white carpet (perfectly white). Then picture someone coming in to the room where the white carpet is, and throwing garbage, manure, and staining paint all over the carpet. The white carpet was never designed to be trashed like that. Something beautiful has become disfigured. That is a lot like our hearts. We, and other people, do not guard our hearts and therefore they become stained and damaged.”

”So where does the healing for love addiction begin? It begins by admitting our hearts are priceless, and affect every area of our lives. We must make a commitment to protect our hearts and not just throw them away looking for love in people and places where love cannot be found. Let us all respect our own hearts.”

”Love Addicts usually didn’t have enough appropriate bonding with their caregivers. Caring transmits the messages, ‘You’re important, you matter, and you are loved,’…when children do not get enough connection and nurture from a parent, they experience serious difficulty with self-esteem. Love Addicts usually experienced much deep pain and sadness and an acute sense of loss during childhood, because a part of themselves was denied the opportunity to grow properly when their caregivers failed to take care of them. This pain and sadness I call ‘the pain of the precious child.’ It goes very deep and back far beyond the earliest conscious memories. As children, Love Addicts experienced enormous fear because they were helpless to create a connection with their caregivers. In counseling they often describe that child-fear as a sense of having a loss of their own breath, as if their air supply had been cut off and they were literally dying [I write this a few months ago as I was trying to write my biography: The first memory I have which includes other people takes place at my grandparents’ house and my mother is there. I was very ill with pneumonia and I was suffocating!!] They also describe being empty because they weren’t filled with nurture by their caregivers. And because they weren’t nurtured for who they were, they had trouble being or liking their natural selves.”

”When you’re hungry, even what tastes bitter tastes good.”

0 notes