#ive never cried harder in my life than in the past two days

[serpentinekisses]

how do you survive breaking up with the love of your life who you thought you were going to be with forever. i cant imagine going on without her there and it hurts so bad whenever i do anything. my chest hurts. ive felt like im about to throw up or start hyperventilating for the past two days. i feel like im losing everything (again). my whole life has been filled overwhelmingly with sadness and hurt and lonliness and im losing one of the only things that consistently makes me happy and think life is worth living. i dont want to hurt anymore. im so tired

[hitoshisbabygirl]

Author's Notes ♡: Hello hello! Here’s my POCuties collab piece for Valentine’s Day. Even though today sometimes makes me feel unloved please know everyone is deserving of love and even if you don’t have someone this year, you can have me! I love you and so do your favs okay? (✿◠‿◠) ~ bunny ❥

Warnings : none! Just very sweet (a bit of the reader feeling like a burden to tamaki so a touch of sadness here and there)

Word count : 2.1k

Paring(s) : Tamaki Amajiki x F! Reader (fem pronouns)

Enjoy ♡

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Forever // T. Amajiki

Being with Tamaki for a few years taught his lover a lot. She saw more sides of him than most, and it made her heart swell to see the usually quiet boy happy and determined when he accomplished something he was trying for or when he was down she knew just how to cheer him up.

As the day drew on she realised just how much she loved him and how much she wished for him to be home, to give him a big kiss as he came through the door, knowing that his day was long, plagued with paperwork and patrols. Hearing the door open she saw her tall boyfriend enter, hood over his eyes as he let out a sigh, stretching as he felt his body being encased by his girlfriend “Hello butterfly how was your day” His low voice spoke out as she gave him a bright smile “It was nice heaving the day off but i missed you Tama” she pouted as he gave her a chuckle, kissing her forehead “I missed you too, the office was a bore without my adorable secretary” Moving into their shared apartment Tamaki saw food already laid out in front of him “I ran you some bath water too” [ ] called out as she rounded the wall separating the kitchen and living room “Y-you didn't have to do that love im-” A finger silenced his pleas “Let me take care of you okay? You need your rest and i didnt want you to worry about anything coming home except relaxing and cuddling with me okay?” [ ] said as she stood on her tippy toes, kissing the top of his cheek “Tamaki Amajiki we have been doing this for years, won't you please let me love you without trying to outdo me ; you deserve it, you're a wonderful hero, you're my hero and eventually...you'll be our family hero..once we have one..” She trailed off as he stared at her, watching a sadden face appear over her features. Shaking it off as soon as it had appeared she gave him another smile “Its alright. There's no rush, i'm here for the long haul , me and you okay?” she said as she let his face go , heading to the couch “Now go go, hurry up before the food gets cold.” She teased as he gave her a soft look, coming over to kiss her cheek “Okay i wont argue butterfly”

These little things stuck with him, her caring ways, cooking for him, cleaning his office while hed be gone, even doing some of his paperwork while he was on parole. He loved her so much and enjoyed all of the little things here and there she did for him. He ddi the same, and each time made her cry, not out of being upset but for how caring he was to her. Bringing her roses, making sure she didnt have to cook if he could help it, spa days and doing more crafts and bonding with her whenever they could. But he realized while she helped him with so much he felt like he struggled. She struggled with her own issues too, similar to his. Sometimes she felt like she wasnt enough, she had her own anxieties and could get in a sup when she felt inadequate, unlovable and unwanted. But to him, to tamaki he loved everything about her, and she was one of the strongest people he knew. He felt motivated and glad to have her as the one he wished to marry , to have kids with, to start a family. But that also broke his heart when the topic came up she did usually didnt talk much about it, happily making plans but going back on them by saying ‘if i was a good mother’ She didnt want to dissapoint their future kids, didnt want to be a lacking mother or wife. As usual Tamaki came home, but htis time he went past the wonderful smelling food in the kitchen and to their bedroom, his cute girlfriend wrapped up in a blanket “How are you feeling butterfly?” He asked as she gave him a smile, reaching over to hug him “Im oaky! Just a bit overwhelmed is all, im sorry i passed out during the meeting..” She said as she gave him a hurt look before continuing “I shouldve tried harder to stay and present with you i-” Before she could finish he gave her a kiss, stopping her words “You needed rest. Im still surprised you got up to cook, did you at least take a nap love?” He asked as she shook her head , causing him to smile “Good. i love you butterfly and i woudnt change that for the world” he said as she smiled, giving him a hug “I’d hope so” She giggled as he pouted “Never doubt my love for you [ ], no matter what im gonna be here, i promise okay?” he said as she nuzzled the boy, kissing his nose “ And i for you Tamaki”

February came in , the happy couple had started up to take more time off to do more things and enjoy eachothers presence in the month of love. As the days went by Tamaki noticed [ ] was having odd days. From sleeping long hours of the day to just crying randomly, he knee something was wrong. Coming from the store he heard sobbing from their bathroom. Terrified , he tried to enter only feeling the door being locked “[ ] baby whats wrong? Can i come in?” with no response he nervously knocked again. “[ ] please...whats wrong” He pleaded as the door unclicked, showing his still beautiful but tear stained cheeked girl. “T-tama..” She cried as she just jumped into his arms, scaring the indigo haired boy “Baby are you okay?” he asked as she took in a breath before smiling sadly “Y-yeah i am..” She said as he picked her up, taking them into the living room. “I love you..and whatever is making you feel like this..if i can help let me okay?” Tamaki said as [ ] shook her head, placing it into his shoulder as they fell asleep.

Every day from her breakdown Tamaki came to her office with a rose, ate lunch with her and made sure she was hydrated and well. Once the week of valentines day came up, he had his plan set in motion. He had their schedules fixed, the week off for themselves as they did different things. A spa day the first day, a picnic the next, shopping at an expensive store for clothes. Then an art day where they drew (or tried to ) eachother and made art fro and about the other. Once the day of Valentines came however, it was different. It started with them taking a shower together, Tamaki cooking breakfast in bead for [ ] as they talked through the morning. Tamaki told her the outfits they ha gotten the days prior was for tonight which gave [ ] the jitters. She was excited for what her pro hero boyfriend had instore for them. Once they got to the restaurant all eys were on them. [ ]’s long black dress falttereed tamakis white suit and black bow tie. The two of them sat and started to eat, coversating with some fans who so happend to be around thwm. One was a small girl with wide hopeful eyes. She came to the couple with her mom in toe “Im so sorry to interrupt you two, my daughter wouldnt let mt husband and me rest until she came over to you guys” the wmoan laughed, causing bothe members to smile “Hello there how are you?” Tamaki asked the girl as she stepped from behind her mother “ H-hi my name is Shiemi a-and i really like you suneater!” The small girl said , causing [ ] , Tamaki and her mom to smile “Why thank you Shiemi, i hope im a good hero for you” Tamaki responded as the little girl shook her head “The best! Youre so cool. A-and your wife is pretty like mama! I like you dress miss suneater” The girl said , causing [ ] to stutter as she sipped her water “O-oh why thank you Shiemi but Im-” before she could continue she saw her boyfriend give the woman and her daughter a wide smile “She is, inst she?” He said as he turned to [ ] , moving from his chair “Tama what are you-” [ ] asked again as he leaned to the little girls ear , then to the mothers as they both gave him a smile, the woman happily shaking her head as her daughter followed the hero. Confused, [ ] watched as he picked the little girl up, putting her atop of the bar table “Hey everyone! Suneater has an announcement!” she yelled as most people turned around or to the table in the middle of the room, watching and smiling at the energetic child and pro hero “In fact I do, [ ] would you mind standing?” Tamaki asked as she gave him a wide eyed look, standing as he gave her a smile, extending and hand to her as she joined his side

“H-hey guys , as you know um..this si my lovely girlfriend and partner [ ]” He started as she gave everyone in the room a wary smile, her face feeling hot as he continued “ Ive known her for years, and weve been dating for some of those, she's seen me through thick and thin, helped me out in a pinch and made me feel like the strongest man alive, well next to almight…” he whispered as some of the people laughed, more paying them attention “And through all of this….i could think of a more beautiful and right person to spend the rest of my life with” And with the the young child handed the now kneeling man a ring as some whooped and hollered, others recording as both [ ] and the girls mother had tears in their eyes “[ ] [ ], the love of my life, my butterfly, i couldnt think of a more beautiful person inside and out to be with, will you give me the honor and make me the happiest man on this earth to be my wife?” He asked as the ring was revealed, diamond glistening as his own tear filled eyes looked to hers. Thinking her voice would fail her she shook her head yes, causing the room to yell as she had her ring put on her finger , jumping to hug her standing fiance as they hugged and cried, video of the engagement spreading as he thought to himself ‘I can now have my family, my endless love with you my dear butterfly’

As their wedding came , all of their friends and family came, including the new found friends of the young Shiemi and her parents. The ceremony went though flawlessly, Shiemi being their flower girl as the newlyweds ran down the easel , heading for their limo as they herded for the reception. The family spoke on how happy they were from their marriage, friends giving their comments on how they knew the couple would get married as the couple laughed at some stories and comments about their relationship. The night ended with so much love and joy for the new couple, startint their life together\

Two years went by before valentines day came again, three years to the day he had proposed arrived. Happily and ready to celebrate Tamaki woke up to his wife missing, hearing her fumble in the bathroom. Heading to the room he was shocked to she her in a disarray , eyes foggy as she met his “Tama...i have a surprised” She said as her teras fell down her face. Confused and still a bit tired , he gave her a look as she handed him a blue and while stick. The word pregnant snapped him awake as more tears started to fall, handing him two and three more all with the same small but powerful word “Im..gonna be a dad?” He asked as she smiled, shaking her head as she hugged the trembling girl “T-tama i'm gonna be a mom..what if i'm not good enough…” She sobbed as he cooed her, kissing her lips as his tears fell with hers “You're gonna be great Butterfly, i promise, you're gonna be so so great” He said as his heart swelled feeling her lips against his ‘This...This is forever , a love i wished for...and i couldn't have asked for more of a way to live my life...i love you butterfly’

[whump-town]

Moments Too Late

In honor of spending too much time on my own Universities quad because of the nice weather (which is promptly going to shit because it’s going to be cold again Monday) and because of @olivinesea college AU I give you...

The false promises of March lure them from the comforts of their dorms. Each morning now a little warmer, the sun beaming down forgiving and loving as it’s not the quiet time for it to swelter down great beams of heat that melts clothes off the skin off muscles off bones. Today it heats the ground, enough to encourage them out of their shoes to feel the still slightly chilled nature of the not yet up to pace earth beneath their toes.

Derek laughs deeply, unabashedly as he chases Spencer along the grass. Seemingly all the more pleased the louder he can get the younger boy to screech in terror as Derek pins his thin arms in contorted positions as they wrestle. The only mediation, the only warnings they get, comes when JJ looks up from her textbook. More often to tuck strands of hair behind her ears than to break from her reading. “Don’t hurt him, Derek,” she warns. Not because she’s afraid he will but to continue these halves of theirs. Where she stands to allow Spencer this idea that she will step in if need be.

“The winter,” Emily says softly. “I think the winter depresses him.” She’s laid out on the jacket Dave spread out on the ground before them. He’d given a little “hmph” of disapproval but not altogether displeasure when she laid herself out on it. Her legs break out in rashes and the shorts she’d chosen to wear leave her too exposed to rest comfortably in it.

Dave rests back on his elbows, chest lifted to take in all the rays of the sun that he can. He cracks open his left eye, scowling over at her as he processes what she’s just said. The raised eyebrow of doubt -- of further need for contemplation and clarification on the generally just vague statement she’s just made -- goes unnoticed as she watches Aaron. Dave’s eyes follow suit and while he might not understand the full complexity of what it is that she means, he might be able to gather what she sees.

“Winter depression?” he whispers. There’s no way that Aaron could be anything but… well, Aaron. By definition, that means dark and spirally with a complexity not a single soul, at least Dave suspects, knows him in his entirety. They are all bound by bits and pieces, half-truths that they have put together like children and those little cheap boxes that are covered half-hazardously in Elmer’s glue and macaroni shells.

Aaron lays out on his back, eyes closed and more relaxed than they’ve ever seen him. Shoulders sinking into the ground and limbs open. His ankles set aligned with his hips and shoulders. Palms up, a sunflower turned to face the warmth. He can feel the heat crawling up his body, nearly too warm with the sweater on his arms and the jeans that don’t quite fit the length of his legs. Softly, he clears his throat doesn’t even bother cracking an eye open as he says, “the word the two of you are looking for is seasonal and I’m not, nor have I ever been, depressed.”

Though Dave shoots Emily a look that says it all -- leave resting snakes to lie, don’t poke a bear you’re not ready to kill -- she sits up and observes him further. Letting his head thud against the dirt, Dave lets her poke that hornet’s nest knowing he’ll be the one to soothe Aaron’s buzzing anxiety and pull the stingers from Emily’s skin.

“You locked yourself in your room for two weeks,” she reminds him. As if she wasn’t the dead girl in the freshmen dormitory wrapped around a toilet and sent to the emergency room where they know her by name. Where they take turns picking her up in the lobby, waving to the doctor’s as she signs out against their advice with her arm still bleeding where she pulled too harshly, too angrily at the IV snaked under her flesh. Who is she to point fingers at his oddity? At least he can go a weekend without visiting the bottle.

The two weeks in question were from hell. He’d been with them Tuesday, present in a way that they reflected on as oddly so. They also thought he’d killed himself, a theory started by JJ too good to pass up so their application might be flawed. For two weeks, there was nothing but radio silence from him. His dorm was empty and they couldn’t even find him in the library, a place they more often than not have to drag him from.  He didn’t show up until Thursday, so he was actually gone for sixteen-days, and looked like maybe he had died and dragged his corpse all the way back to them.

Not yet adults and very much the children raised by their parent’s hips, how could they not think in the extremes that they have known their entire lives? Too young to know the complexities of the life ahead of them but too damaged to ignore it. JJ knows what her sister did and Derek could feel his father’s blood hardening on his hands, could understand and see what JJ was telling them.

One. Talking about wanting to die or to kill oneself; Eyes closed and back sinking further and further into the blankets behind him. Nearly unaware of how close they all are, of the hand on his knee or the shoulder on his hip. “It would be nice… I think,” he whispers. “No stress. No obligations. Like sleeping.” He doesn’t sleep well.

Two. Talking about feeling hopeless or having no purpose; The warmth of his eyes has frozen over, the helpless desperation that he feels bubbling over. The carefully orchestrated faux look he’s spent years building burns at his feet. Leaving behind the broken child that he is at his core, searching for something that makes sense. For a father that loves him and a mother that protects him. “It doesn’t matter what I do,” he rasps. “Nothing matters because all I do is fuck everything up.”

Three. Sleeping too little or too much; He pulls from the hand that JJ gently reaches out with, flinching. “I -- I just don’t sleep well,” he defends, avoiding her eyes when she tries to look harder. To really see how pale he’s become. “It’s just -- just insomnia.” Nightmares are what he means but twenty-year-olds shouldn’t have that kind of horror built up into them so he lies. It’s easier that way.

Three strikes. You’re out but… they just couldn’t find a body. Dave had told them about how old dogs will drag themselves away from their homes to die and Spencer had cried for hours after that. Maybe that seemed a little too on the nose, Aaron being compared to an old beaten dog. They yelled at Dave out of fear but knew he was right.

Then Aaron just showed up to campus Thursday, a lump of human underneath his comforter as if he’d been there the entire time.

“We couldn’t find you for two weeks, Aaron. That’s -- That’s crazy, even for you.”

JJ looks up from her textbook, sees Dave, and looks back down. She’s certain that they’re about to have to deal with one of Emily and Aaron’s nuclear fallouts.  With hindsight, she can see how that’s been festering up. Every semester they have one of these martial spats, bad enough to leave Spencer (who loves nothing more than to be one of their shadows) afraid to be left alone with either for a few days. Rightfully so, Aaron gets a little dark and Emily never pulls her punches, it’s a scary thing to witness.

“My father died.” The group freezes for a moment. Spencer and Derek’s wrestling had died down, both watching Aaron and Emily. He’s sitting up now, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “My father died and it wasn’t any of your business.” Emily opens her mouth but he’s shaking, having opened something not so easily contained. He doesn’t know how to put it all back. “Sean called, what was I to do, Emily? Would you prefer I tell a scared nine-year-old to fuck off?”

He wanted to. Despite how scared Sean had been, how small he’d sounded sucking in little sobs. Aaron lost his father ten years ago but he couldn’t tell Sean that. He’d gone out of obligation and the strange weighted sense that this might be the last time he truly sees his little brother. And he couldn’t know it yet but it’d be the last time he saw his mother too.

“I wasn’t out mixing my name up with Jack Daniels.”

Well…  it was only a matter of time.

She stands first, fist clenched at her sides. “We’re your friends, we would have been there. You’re just too much of an insufferable bastard to notice!” She seethes good and properly angry. Misplaced but firm. “If you spent half as much time locking yourself away, pretending to be someone you’re not--” She pulls in a deep shuttering breathe. “Everyone knows, you know? All of us. We’ve seen the scars.” She’s not sure if it’s what she wanted but he flinches as though he’s been hit and that’s not enough to stop her. “Do you think we wouldn’t notice the flinching? That we can’t touch you? You’re not as good as you think you are, Aaron, and we’re not stupid.”

Silence.

Emily always knows what to say.

“Ex-Excuse me.”

Penelope comes up just as Aaron’s stumbling to his feet, pale as a ghost and trembling. He nearly runs into her. “What’s--” she’s brought them snacks. Little pieces of fruit she’s painstakingly cut for this little snack. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head and mumbles another “excuse me” and tears past her.

Penelope looks hopelessly at them, confused and hurt. She turns, watching Aaron stagger and wipe furiously at his eyes. “What… What did you do?” She looks back and forth, settling on Emily. Penelope watches tears gather in Emily’s eyes, her lower lip trembling.

“Oh God,” she whispers, hands raising to her lips. Emily looks over at Dave and to JJ, Spencer, and Derek still watching in terror. Her own words coming back to her, funneling through moments too late. “Oh God, what did I do?”

[softlyjiminie]

black swan | one

⇢ pairing(s): professional dancer!park jimin x figure skater!reader.

⇢ word count: 4.8K.

⇢ rating: 16+, mature.

⇢ genre: angst, eventual smut, fluff, e2l, fake dating!au, corrupted idol!au, dancer!au, figure skater!au.

⇢ summary: a life of skating was all you’d ever known, your heart craving the feeling of ice beneath your feet and the light brush of cool air against your skin under thousands of sparkling lights... what a shame, if only you’d known that one night, one accident could rip you from the life you’d grown to love, leaving your career in the unsteady hands of the prince of ballet, park jimin.

⇢ warning(s): please read for this chapter! angst, just a lot of vmon fluff, sports injury and mentions of blood!

⇢ author’s note(s): eeeep here it is everyone!! the first chapter of my new series!! ive worked super hard on this so im nervous and excited to share :( i hope you guys love it! feedback is greatly appreciated <3

⇢ series masterlist | next

alive.

if there was one word that you would use to describe this feeling, it would be alive. from the second the toepick of your skate touched the ice, your body would always come to light, energy surging through your veins as you drifted across the smooth surface of the rink. you belonged here, you were born here. this was was where you felt at home.

although the space was littered with other skaters, you believe yourself to be alone— the music of your heavily practiced routine filling your mind while you ready your position...head down, arm outstretched and fingertips pointed. rolling your shoulders, you clutch your hand to your chest as the chords of your original soundtrack blast through your thoughts, with a half turn you bend at the back, catching your skate while you twist your body into a layback spin— holding your skate to your head. “catch foot,” you whisper, following the notes of the song— butterfly. it was a short contemporary piece composed by your trainer which you had insisted on using for this competition. as the music flows, you release your grip on your skate and allow it to hit the ice, holding your arms out in a poised manner.

gliding across the ice, you dive into your next movement— the cantilever— bending at the knee and leaning backwards, skates out-turned. you know that move after would require the support from your partner, so you skip it in favour of saving it for the eyes of the judges. hydroblades were always a signature between he and yourself. the song hits a climax in your head, piano notes wafting through lost memories, tangled with practices of routines and you tumble effortlessly into the remaining steps like a flowing waterfall that never stops— the triple axel is the jump that comes after, a difficult manoeuvre through the air...but well known in the skating community as only a few have landed it in contest. skating forward, you put your power into the jump, leaping forward with only two and half rotations, saving the third for the competition and breathing a sigh of relief when you land backwards— just as planned. you move with the grace of a pure white swan, silently slipping into every move, spin and jump as you focus on only the sounds of your blade against the ice.

completing another full turn, you head straight into a sit spin— curling in on yourself as your body lowers to the cool surface of the ice. during a spin, you fyour blades dig into the ice as you come to a halt, exposing yourself to the world once again. breathing laboured from exertion, you outstretch your arms once more and imagine the final chords of your musical piece, ending your routine.

your attention is captured by a round of applause to your left, making you whip your head in search for the sound. a sweet grin graced your lips as you recognise the two men clapping away, causing you to skate over and rest your palms on the boarders of the rink.

“taehyungie,” you sing, leaning over the barriers to ruffle at the thick mass of unruly black locks that curl just above his eyes. the boy only laughs as he grabs your wrist and pulls you in for an awkward hug. his body is warmer compared to the ice, bringing you a sense of homely comfort that you recognise as familiar. “i missed you at practice just now,”

taehyung himself rolls his eyes making it his turn to ruffle your hair. “oh please, you hardly need me! you make a two man routine look good on its own!” he rambles excitedly, body leering over the barrier as if the ice is calling him. taehyung’s dark eyes flitter up to meet yours, an amused chuckle emulating from his lips at your jokingly unimpressed expression. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d think you were a solo skater—“

you huff, letting the corners of your lips twitch up into a small smile. “you know that i couldn’t ever do this without you, tae— i need you on the ice with me.” you poke at his cheek affectionately, your body lighting up as you spot namjoon, both yours and taehyung’s coach behind the latter. your skating partner catches the change in your expression, turning around to greet namjoon with a warm hug and kiss to the cheek.

yourself, taehyung and namjoon had known each other for as long as you could remember. you’d met taehyung at your very first skating lesson, in a beginners class when his hair was wild and untamed, a little boy with missing teeth and big bright eyes. as a little girl, you’d thought he’d gotten lost on his way to an ice hockey practice. at the time, namjoon’s father ran the skating company you started under— leaving his son in charge of the beginners class.

the three of you had grown up together; taehyung was your first kiss— promptly realising he wasn’t into girls right after you’d stolen a smooch on the swing set in your backyard after a practice (“yeah...YN, i’m gay.”). and even in high school, the two of you stalking namjoon around hallways as you teased a blushing taehyung about is growing crush on the lankier male. you cradled you’re jubilant friend as he cried when namjoon left for college, his light dimming a bit but you remembered crying harder when the three of you were united four years and a plethora of competitions, medals and skates later.

“well if it isn’t my favourite pair of skaters,” namjoon greets, tucking his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket that proudly shows off the logo of your skating company. “practicing again, YN?”

you see the amusement dancing in your coach’s eyes, he wouldn’t have put it past you to see you on the ice so early in the morning. you’d never relented with your skating, having pushed yourself to win two olympic medals by the time you were nineteen. you were an image of perfection in the skating world, not a scandal or downfall in your entire career— most would find such an achievement quite daunting— losing friends was made easy because of it... but you knew that you had taehyung and namjoon and the love of your family and company, you knew that with that you could achieve anything. “i have to, if i want to be better than taehyung...” you tease and tug on said male’s sleeve. “help me get him on the ice?”

namjoon presses a kiss into the depths of taehyung’s deep ocean locks, sending him off with a whisper that makes him run off to grab his skates before the elder approaches you. “little ice princess, i think i have a gift for you...” namjoon sings sweetly, pulling his phone from his back pocket as you lean over the barrier excitedly.

“you think?”

“i know.”

the elder holds out his device for you to see, the screen lighting up as an unfamiliar caller ID flashes across it. you raise your eyes hesitantly while your coach nods, smile reaching his eyes as you answer the call. a group of beaming faces decorate the screen and your own eyes dance across each and every one of them, recognising them as the boys and girls of moonchild skating company.

“YN!” the skaters cheer, waving excitedly amongst a sea of claps and giggles. “good, luck!”

“thanks you guys,” you whisper sweetly, sparing an appreciative glance at namjoon, you blow kisses to all of your fellow skaters thankfully. you note some of them to be from different ranks in your company; from beginners to juniors and some from different areas of competition— although your heart jumps slightly at the sight of one in particular. “jungkookie...”

“noona!” the boy cheers, scrunching his nose excitedly at the mention of his name. your heart melts as he looks to you with sparkling doe eyes, the younger boy having a special place in your heart— he came to the company bright eyed and shy, there had been a lot of doubt about jungkook’s abilities on the ice because of that. but as soon as he stepped foot on the rink, everyone’s worries drifted away— each of his movements were silken and seamless easily making him one of the best solo skaters in the senior rank, although he was slightly younger than you. you remember catching him after practice one day— he had yet to decide if he wanted to sign up with namjoon and he’d only  stayed behind to watch you run through your routine with taehyung. the bumbling boy couldn’t help but blush when he’d been caught with yourself and your partner yearning for him to join. he did so in the end... because of you, because you had inspired him to pick up skating after you won your first gold medal. it just so happened that little jungkookie was a fast learner. “did you like the surprise? i thought it would help with your nerves— i know you get butterflies in your tummy before you perform! so do i! especially when i see you— uh! i mean!”

jungkook’s ears burn as bright as his cherry red hair, the shade only feeling as your melodious chuckle wafts through the phone’s speakers. “i loved it kookie, thank you.” you hum, batting your lashes at him, despite the presence of the other skaters on the call. you knew he had a soft spot for you, it was hard to miss his longing gazes and the tightening of his jaw when tae put his hand on your waist for lifts. it was sweet. “good luck to you in your regionals as well, you’ll do great... okay?” you’re quick to remind him, as you note taehyung returning from the locker room.

“t-thank you noona! we love you!”

the skaters give you one last cheer and round of applause as taehyung slips into view with a boxed grin and sweet wave. namjoon ends the call, ruffling his lover’s mop of hair before ushering the two of you onto the ice, ready to run through your routine one last time.

putting together the perfect routine, is like making the perfect breakfast. the eggs you begin with, a sweet yolk dancing on your tongue like the starting moves that give the judges a taste of what you’re capable of. next were the pancakes, drenched in syrup— like light movements through the air, packing a punch with the saucy moves between yourself and your partner to show off your finesse and finally, there was the—

“orange juice.” taehyung’s timbre voice cut through your thoughts like a knife as he place a glass of freshly squeezed juice in front of you whilst disrupting your  mentally mapped out routine. blinking rapidly under his stares, your gaze switched from the piles of food he’d set on your plate, to the amused but scolding glare he’d spared you. “drink it, it’ll keep your sugar and energy up for today.”

“thanks taetae...”

you nod gratefully, leaning forward and taking a gulp of the bitter yellow liquid as if it’ll wash away the nerves beginning to bubble in the pits of your stomach. nonetheless, the skater beams brightly at you before he scoffs down a mouthful of his towering breakfast— as he always did before such events. you, however, couldn’t bare to eat— not with the devious stares of the other female figure skaters who eyed your plates. you knew it was a tactic to throw you off guard, the canteen of the hotel was much like a high school back in the day, with cliques and squads all out to get each other. it was always like this before major skating competition but your mind is too busy being filled with anticipation of getting on the ice and showing off once more.

namjoon appears after taehyung has eaten more than half his plate— resulting in him stealing bits and pieces from your own. “don’t look so nervous, YN,” the elder chides from over his steaming cup of coffee, hand running through his dishevelled purple and blonde streaked locks. “you’ll do great, both of you will.” your coach spares a knowing glance to taehyung, who blushes through munching the rest of your pancakes and so; you can tell by the light bruises on the neck that he and taehyung had a rough encounter in the night before.  

joon was never allowed to mark taehyung above the waist, because the younger loved to wear costumes that glittered and showed off his open chest. you knew from experience that the marks would be below the waist where no one could see— like their own little good luck ritual. glee consumes your skating partner as namjoon nuzzles his nose into his dark hair, the distraction letting you slip under the surface of worry once more.

‘no, you’ve got this.’ you think, flickering your gaze anywhere but your plate in order to clam the race horse of thoughts in your mind. you finally settle on staring at the news report playing on the small digital TV hanging in the right hand corner of the cafeteria. park jimin, arrested for speeding. the report flashes across the screen, images of bright blonde hair and dark eyes hidden by thick black shades passing by with faint sounds of camera clicks.

you shake your head, grateful to never had experienced trouble like that. sure, you’d dealt with reporters and trash paparazzi but, joon and tae— they’d always gotten you through it. it was just nice to not be alone like him...

park jimin.

taehyung had a mind of brilliance.

you sit in the stylist chair, hair slicked back and curled away from your eyes— the momentum of free hair would have disrupted your skating or thrown you off balance, but god was kim taehyung a miracle worker. he always knew how he wanted you both to look for performances, the makeup artists bidding to his every need. you could even find him helping out with the beginners class performances— adding glitter to baby cheeks and braiding youthful hair.

today, your friend had decided the look you would go for; would be faded baby blue shadow dancing across your lids and blending softly with cloudy whites and silver sparkles. your liner was sharp, winged enough to cut the diamond edge of the gemstones that were dotted at the corner of your eye— taehyung was smart, co-ordinating your makeup look with the pretty silver dress namjoon had scouted out just for you.

the article of clothing itself, is backless with long sleeves that form tear drops at your pointer finger as they fade from silver to a cool grey, much like the skirt of your dress. smaller gemstones and pearls align at your waist and chest, that glistened under the cheap light when namjoon had first revealed the outfit to you. you had cried when you thumbed the flowing layered skirt, thanking your boys endlessly for the beautiful dress but taehyung had only giggled — knowing that it matched his silver to white shirt, tight fitting and glittering with layered sleeves (which he loved so much).

now, you laced up your skates— nerves peaking once more. the white leather sat comfortably against your heal, having broken in the skates amiss your training. you knew that the current pair were already on the ice, eliciting cheers from the crowd so you forced your jitters into lacing up and securing your skates. a double not would suffice.

“you’re both going to do amazing, remember whatever happens out there... i’m proud of you.” your coach reminds with one last dimpled smile before you’re due on the ice. taehyung pecks both of your cheeks and leads you away from your team of staff— who clap excitedly for you while your names are announced.

squeezing his hand, you slide smoothly onto the ice with taehying and close your eyes, breathing in the sharp scent of coolness and fresh air and taking in the squeals of your names. “you look great,” your partner comments easily, smirking as you circle each other on the rink. you open your eyes, noting the white-ish glow the ice gives to taehyung’s honey skin and grin. “we’ve got this.”

“we always do,” you nod back in affirmation, confidence flaring as the announcement finishes (you had always felt more at home on the ice, and tae knew once you were out there, your worries would melt away with the music). you push yourself into position with tae, your foreheads pressed against once another’s, so close that you can feel his warm breath fanning across your face. it’s all for the dramatics but you know that the crowd loves your chemistry. piano chords drift through the air, signalling the start of your routine, your hands roam across taehyung’s body like you’d practiced countless times. when the beat picks up, taehyung twists you in his arms, fingertips reaching just above your head while your own hands follow his to link them.

you begin to pick up momentum, skating with each other in arm as the first verse picks, with hands on your waist, taehyung picks you up gently, holding you off the ice for just a second as he skates into a half spin before placing you down. resuming your movements across the rink, you separate and tumble into your next move— they lay back spin. the pair of you synchronise your moves, holding your skates to your head as you twirl into the lyrics of the song.

‘is it true? is it true?’ the lyrics reverberate in your mind, body following taehyung’s lead into the next steps. his fingertips are  light on your arms to keep them poised, both of you extending your right legs as you glide across the ice. ‘you, you, you...’ your partner lifts you once more into his arms, pushing you into the air for you to fall gracefully into a double salchow— taking off with the back inside edge of your right skate and landing on the outside of the opposite skate. the crowd bursts into applause, making you grin subtly at your partner before interlocking your fingers once more for a partnered arabesque spirals.

your hand grips taehyung’s firmly, letting your bodies move naturally with the music as you hold your legs in outstretched positions. the chorus bursts through the arena as the air below your arms blows away any worries, you fall back into taehyung’s arms once more for a lift above his head— your legs stretched out into a galloping motion before he swiftly prompts you into a death spiral, holding onto your arm as he twirls your body lower towards the ice.

when the chorus ends, you’re back to skating side by side, wowing the crowd with your movements— like namjoon said you would. completing a paired sit spin, movements mirrored perfectly, a feeling of dread feels your stomach. the ice changes beneath your skates— rougher on this side of the rink than others which sends ripples of worry through your veins at what is to come next. a triple axel jump, they were difficult to land and yet a specialty of yourself and your partners. you knew in your heart that if you landed this jump, the competition was yours but the buzzing feeling in your mind knew that something was wrong. to others, the ice carried you gracefully across the rink, but you knew something was out of place. catching taehyung’s eye, it’s as if he feels it too, but you can’t miss he jump... not when it could cost you the chance of a win.

putting your trust into taehyung, the man you’ve known for years— you curl into his chest as his strong hands support you into propelling you into the triple axel jump but to your dismay, the ice catches beneath his toe pick, taehyung misses a fraction of a beat as he forces you into the air. fear spikes in your chest— you weren’t ready, not to land, not for the jump, not for the music to push through with a climax.

and certainly not for the crunch of your bones.

excited cheers die down to fearful gasps and screams of horror, while taehyung picks himself up from the fall. the world is too loud, the lights are too bright and paramedics rush past him as he shakes himself off. wait, paramedics. pupils blown wide the skater rushes to his feet, pushing past men in orange suits with medical kits strewn about— he hears the faint call of namjoon from over the barrier and the announcers up ahead but his focus is on you.

the loudness fades and a ringing sensation builds up behind your ears— the world is black and you can only catch momentary flashes of taehyung’s worried face above your own. you’re confused, you can’t hear him as he mumbles through his sudden onslaught of tears. you cringe as they drip onto your face, an urge to wipe away the wetness taking over you— but when your fingers are brought back to your eyes, you notice the colour of crimson decorating your finger tips.

a muffled cry leaves your small frame as pain shoots through your leg, you can’t find the source but suddenly reality comes rushing back. you can hear the rushed voices of paramedics as they shuffle you onto a gurney, you can feel the stickiness of blood from somewhere on your head trickle down your back— soiling the pretty dress namjoon worked so hard to find, the throbbing pain in your left leg becoming too much to bare as you cry out for anyone, anything.

it hurts, god it hurts.  

“stay with me, YN, keep th-those eyes open for me? okay baby?” you hear as your vision sways, but the voice is familiar— timbre and warm just like taehyung’s. his cool hands cup your face, brushing through your hair as he limps off the rink with your gurney. “p-please stay awake? baby please...” you know that he’s crying and you know that you’re crying too, but you’re too tired, to sleepy to comply with his wishes. the world is still dark, briefly brightening when you see namjoon from the corner of your eye. he’s gone again and the buzzing world is replaced with the scent of disinfectant and hand sanitizer. there’s arguing, yelling but you can’t see from behind closed eyes.

“she needs surgery!”

“what she needs, is us!”

when you come to, one last time you lock eyes with taehyung’s trusting brown ones, watering on the edge of tears. “i won’t leave you, i promise.”

and with that, you slip away again.

there were certain sounds you liked to hear. like the sound of your skate cutting into thick ice when you landed a jump, taehyung’s sweet singing after a long day of practice or the old romcoms you had playing in your hotel room after a day of competing.

the incessant beeping filling your senses was not a sound you liked.

“it’s my fault, joon. you should have seen her face... it’s like she knew and she trusted me to—“ taehyung cuts through the beeping with a voice filled with worry, his jubilant demeanour having been lost somewhere. your head begins to pound as you remember his skittish sobs, but the memories are blurred still.

namjoon’s voice enters next, interrupting the shaking voice of his boyfriend. “it’s not your fault, how could you have known she’d fall like that? you tripped taehyung, something wasn’t right.”

“but she felt it, we both did—“

“then i’ll take it up with the board, we’ll sue, we’ll— we’ll figure out what happened.” your coach reasoned with his lover, a silence sweeping over the room. you yearned for the comfort you felt eminate between them but when you lift your arm, you realise you’re unable to move— the wires and plugs and breathing machines keeping you strapped to the bed. panic rises in your chest, blocking your air as you struggle to breathe—  taehyung is the first to rush to your side, lifting your mask and cradling you into his chest as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

namjoon is on your other side, rubbing a large palm up and down your back and out instantly feel comforted by their presence. hot tears roll down your cheeks, burning in your oesophagus as you claw at the base of your throat.

“shhh, little princess it’s okay— we’ve got you.”

a cup of water is brought to your lips which you quickly gulp down, the cool liquid soothing the ache in your throat. blinking, you cling tightly to taehyung’s cable knit sweater— hesitant to speak due to your unused voice. “wh-what happened?” you manage, unsure if your whispers can be heard above the pounding of your heart. “where...where are we?”

“you were in an accident,” namjoon spoke lowly from above you, taehyung instantly squeezing you closer as memories of the incident flashed behind both of your eyes. a low whimper left your childhood friend’s lips at your wince— squeezing you again as if he could drain your pain away. your coach swears he feels his heart break at the two of you hurting, pressing the buzzer for the nurse as tae cradles you and sliding onto your hospital bed to wrap his larger arms around you both. “something went wrong with the ice and, you fell—“

your fingers curl tighter in your friend’s clothes, as you remember the pain shooting up your leg and burning in the back of your skull. taehyung avoids your eyes this time, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “they checked you for a concussion and your leg...” his baritone voice an octave, a cool quiet seeping into the room. “your leg is broken, but with one more surgery and some physical therapy— you’ll be back on the ice in no time!”

your heart plummets in your chest, you knew what injuries like that did to figure skaters. sure you were young, you had time to recover but even the slightest pause in doing so could cost you your entire life, your career. the pair of lovers that surround you share a grim look, knowing the thoughts that are rushing through your mind.

“we have the best doctors for you, YN, with a few months—“

you blink up at tae with fiery eyes filled with tears, resisting the urge to shove him away. “i don’t have a few months, tae! training for the olympics is what i should be doing!” you hiccup, starting to choke on tears you refuse to let shed. “i need to be out there on that ice, or i’m useless, i need to—“

you make movements to step out of bed, sucking in your lower lip as a dull ache rests in your bones. the pair are quick to pull you back into bed, but your hands scold them with slaps as you push them away. you have no right to be angry at them, but you know that they understand. taehyung seems to be calmer now, despite the hurt that tickles his puppy dog features at your resistance, he does his best to comfort you.

but a prominent scowl yearns for the curve of namjoon’s lips, your coach falling deep in thought.

“you’re suspended from skating.”

“wh-what?” you stammer, eyes burning with a fresh set of tears for the third or fourth time that night. this time, your partner stands, looking to his lover in confusion and standing with his hands resting on your shoulders comfortingly.

he speaks hesitantly. “now joon...”

“no, taehyung,” your coach sighs, remaining stern. it kills him to make this choice, but there’s no other way— at least not for now. “LN YN will be suspended from all physical skating activities until she has made a full recovery with a hired physical therapist...” the words pierce straight into your heart, tearing you apart from the inside. you want to scream and cry and kick and protest but you’re too numbed from pain and betrayal to speak or move. “legal action will be taken up with the board responsible for the competition but until then, you will not touch the ice. understand?”

you blink, numb.

“YN, i said, do you understand?” namjoon repeats, steeling his gaze. he hates this, he hates hurting both you and his love.

you nod once, looking away whilst tae rubs circles into your shoulders. his lover mentions something about a coffee before slipping out of the room... and that’s when you breakdown. you cry, heavy ugly tears with a running nose that you’re sure stains your best friends sweater as he rocks you back and forth into the night.

you cry until your spark is dull, you cry until your chest burns and until your eyes are dry. you cry because you’ve lost your purpose in life.

⇢ taglist ! ( comment, like or dm to be added! )

@periminkle​  @ggukkieland​   @aishots​ @ownthesunshine​ @codeinebelle​ @taeass​ @trviahope @singular-itae @preciouschimine @yoongismykink @idiakh @honeyspillings @kimsdior @chimshoe @cypherft-v @tangledsparkles

[zukos-scribe]

Grief

Peter Parker x Reader

Ok this is another one of my fics from my old blog that I edited heavily and am reposting on here. So if you've seen this before don't worry.

Major trigger warning for dying/death/torture/etc.

You were breathing hard, sweat pouring down your face as you tried to gain your bearings. It was hot and dark, only one rickety old lamp hanging high from the ceiling.

It illuminated your face along with the other person sitting in the room with you, Peter.

Peter Parker.

He's your best friend, you were the only person in school that he trusted with his spiderman secret from the very beginning. And he's the guy that you had been crushing on for the past three years.

But alas, he was currently crushing on a really popular senior girl named Liz. You had to admit, she was beautiful. A lot more than yourself. Every time she talked to you or Peter, your insecurities grew.

You considered yourself more of the background friend. Someone that was there to lean on if needed, that friend that would have to step behind the others when walking down the sidewalks.

However, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t a good friend. He was a great friend. He was there when you needed him, listened to you geek out about your interests, made sure to include you in conversations with others.

He was your best friend.

Even though you wanted him to be more.

But it had been harder since he had become spiderman. He was rushing around, he didn’t have as much time for you anymore. Study dates and friend time had become near impossible. Weekend tech and gaming events had disappeared.

It was the night of the homecoming dance, and he had rushed out of the school looking desperate and scared, even ditching Liz after bringing her as his date.

You didn’t know what was happening so you chased after him.

“Peter!” you called as you ran after him.

“Go back! Y/N! Don’t follow me!” he yelled, changing into his spiderman suit. You continued to run after him anyway. But he was too fast for you now.

“Peter!” you screamed as he took off.

You stood there outside of the school watching as your best friend and the boy that you loved swung off into the night.

“Well, how sweet it is that I found spiderman’s little…. Whatever you are,” a threatening voice suddenly said from behind you.

You spun around to see whoever it was, but a pair of hands reached out to grab you before you could see their face.

Then, blackness. ~~~~ When you woke you were in that darkened room, only the one rusty light on the ceiling. It didn’t shed light on anything other than Peter’s face and an IV going into your arm. Your wrists were gently tied to the arms of your chair with pieces of cloth. The two of you were seated at a table across from each other, with another chair on your right side. Obviously, someone was going to be joining you.

You looked at Peter in fear.

“What’s going on?” you croaked.

“I don’t know.”

You stared at him until a loud mental bang rang throughout the room.

A pair of hands appeared by Peter’s head, wrapping a dirty piece of cloth around his mouth. Peter’s eyes widened in fear and he tried to fight off the man.

“Now, Peter if you want to me to take off that gag you need to listen first of all. Although I think by the end of this you won’t be able to care anymore. I aim to destroy you.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked as he sat down in the chair next to you.

“Well darling, I think that our precious spiderman here is about to lose his best friend forever. That IV in your arm is slowly killing you. But, if you can talk fast enough, you might be able to save yourself. But I don’t know, you’ve never said anything like this to him before.”

“Tell him what?” you asked confused.

“All of those deep dark feelings that you’ve hidden away in the back of your heart and brain. The ones that only come out when it’s late at night and you’re done with the world. The ones that began to appear after Spiderboy here came into the picture So go ahead, get talking. I’ll be one room over.”

The man got up and removed your constraints before leaving the room.

Peter looked at you with worry and confusion in his eyes. He tried to say something against the gag, but nothing coherent came out.

“I’m sorry Peter, I’m so sorry,” you cried, letting your head droop. “I didn’t want you to ever find out about any of this.”

He started to struggle in his chair, trying to loosen his bonds. You reached over to carefully slip the gag off of his mouth. You wanted to help him get free, but he was cuffed to the chair with mental.

“Y/N, what is he talking about? Are you okay? What’s going on? What feelings are you keeping from me?”

“Peter-”

“Please Y/N, just be honest with me.”

You looked at him with the saddest expression that he’s ever seen in his life. Your cheeks seemed hollow, your eyes were empty and sad. You weren’t yourself. How long had you been feeling this way?

“Ever since you became spiderman, it’s been so hard. I constantly feel left behind, you don’t have as much time to spend with me. I just sit in my room now watching the news, hoping that you’re still safe and alive. Then I see you in school the next day and you seem fine, but you don’t tell me anything. Then you go off and-” you paused, a coughing fit coming over you.

“And what?”

“You go and get distracted by Liz. You’re so infatuated with her, you don’t see that I’m standing right beside you, just like I’ve always been. I love you Peter. More than a friend, but you don’t see it.”

Peter stared at you horrified, guilt was creeping into his eyes.

“Y/N I-”

“It’s okay,” you coughed out. “You don’t have to love me. I've already accepted the fact that you never would. I just miss my best friend. We used to tell each other everything. But you've been keeping so much to yourself that I felt so helpless. What if something happened to you and I couldn't do anything about it. Or I never found out and one day you just disappeared."

He started to try and say something but you were hit with more coughs, each one worse than the last one. Blood appeared on your hand. You were dying. You didn't think that it would be so quick.

“Y/n, hang on. I’ll get us out of here,” Peter cried, trying to break free again. He was becoming frantic.

You slumped in your chair. You felt cold, your eyes were drooping, your head was fuzzy. You couldn’t think straight anymore. You looked tiredly at Peter who was trying to free his hands.

“I don’t want to die in here,” you whispered.

Peter froze, his eyes full of panic.

“No. I won’t let you die. You’re going to be fine, we’ll get out of here. I’m going to get you help.”

He managed to break the restraints on one of his hands before beginning on the other hand.

“Just stay awake for me please.”

You shook your head slightly.

“I can’t.”

He managed to get his other hand free and ran over to you.

“Alright, we’re going to get out of here.” He tried to help you up but you fell to the floor. He gathered you in his arms and tried to figure out a way out of the room.

“I love you Peter. I’m sorry.”

“No!” he screamed. “Y/N! Wake up! Please! Wake up, please wake up!” He buried his face into your shoulder.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(does any of this make sense? idk anymore)

[xiaomomowrites]

act IV

Genshin Impact | TartaLi/ZhongChi

Summary: It was the way Zhongli’s warm amber eyes suddenly were not as warm anymore. The way he looked at him with a piercing look, void of remorse, as he handed his gnosis over willingly to go on a whole tangent about how his “duties were done”. It was the way he turned and treated the precious traveler with the same amount of kindness and gentleness the Childe had received the previous night, with such ease; it was a look he thought was reserved only for him. It was the way he was able to turn back around, stare at Childe with an unreadable gaze, and walk away without so much of a goodbye.

Or, Zhongli and Childe finally have the conversation that was long overdue.

A/N: I’ve been playing genshin for roughly four or five months now, I can’t remember exactly when I started, but boy do I love it. No you don’t understand, I’m obsessed. But these two have been taking up room in my big brain, so I wanted to write for them. It’s been awhile since I wrote for pleasure so hopefully this is satisfactory :,) and tomorrow, I’m back to school, so I thought I’d enjoy my last day of freedom and post this today. Fun fact, I’m minoring in professional writing, so I’m hoping that it’ll improve my writing skills when I write for luxury, too. Anyway, this was a really fun piece for me to write and I hope you share the sentiment.

Also thank you guys for being so patient with our inactivity and just being such a chill audience to write for. Other social media platforms have become so...demanding haha. I appreciate y’all! Feel free to message us or talk to us about whatever :) -u.n.

Find this on AO3!

Spoiler alert: this fic does contain spoilers for the A New Star Approaches arc, so read at your own risk.

—

In Childe’s line of work, he is no stranger to betrayal.

Working as a Fatui Harbinger meant an unhealthy amount of fighting, betraying one person, deceiving another, and then on occasion, getting betrayed himself. It was all in a days’ work. Childe knew he would just have to roll out his neck and move on. He’s done it before, he can do it again. He would think that, after nineteen years of this grueling rinse and repeat, that he’d be able to tolerate a lot in the field. In fact, working with that wretched colleague of his, Scaramouche, and serving the Tsaritsa with a loyalty unmatched explicitly calls for the patience and tolerance of a saint.

Alas, Childe is the furthest thing from a saint. And still, Zhongli’s betrayal stung the most out of anyone else’s, the reason still unbeknownst to him. He tells himself that it’s because he had actually befriended the other man. That, unlike his other missions, he developed more of a friendship with Zhongli than he has with anyone else in the past. Not to mention how he really thought he’d find the gnosis, in all its golden glory, seated deep within the Exuvia, and not within his friend.

Which is why after he watches Zhongli hand over his precious gnosis to Signora of all people, Childe makes haste to return to the inn he had been staying at to furiously pack his things and leave first thing in the morning. Seeing Signora in Liyue so close to Zhongli had triggered a deep seated feeling of possessiveness over him and the city. Liyue was his territory, as far as he was concerned. It was assigned to him by the Tsaritsa and no one else. And yet, despite his unspoken possession over Liyue, its people turned against him and viewed him as the enemy. As if Childe didn’t already know that. As if he hadn’t already grown up with a layered villain complex, subconsciously looking for a fool with a hero complex to match him. Then entered Zhongli, making himself at home in Childe’s life, and he was immediately enamouring the Harbinger.

Screw Liyue.

Screw all their traditions, the stupid glaze lilies, the delicious cuisine, the obvious livelihood that fills the streets in stark contrast to his own icy hometown, screw all those goddamn unnecessary mountains, that fish market with that abhorrent smell he gradually got used to, and screw Rex Lapis. Screw Zhongli, that handsome bastard, for stringing him along like his plaything the entire time.

Childe knows, he gets it, that Zhongli simply did what he had to do because it was best for his people. And what other way for the oldest of the seven to go, if not for a grand finale? And yes, Childe admits, luring out Osial was a stupid move, but it certainly served its purpose for testing the strength of Liyue and its defenders.

Zhongli and Signora knew he would do something stupid and reckless as soon as he caught wind of the Exuvia serving as a decoy. They knew, and they played the game so well, that Childe really thought he was the mastermind puppeteering the whole show.

What a fool he was made out to be.

Childe aggressively shoves blazer after blazer into his travel duffel, angry, pathetic tears pooling at the corners of his eyes without his consent. He sniffs angrily and swipes at his cheek as soon as the first tear falls.

Fuck this, he’s not crying over a god, he still has some dignity.

But still. Pride aside, it hurt. And it wasn’t even necessarily the deceit that hurt the most. He’s dealt with that previously. It was… more personal. More of an internal struggle than an external issue. Childe truly hates those the most. At least he can shove his fist through any external problem, but he can’t exactly do the same with his feelings, or whatever they’re called.

It was the way Zhongli’s warm amber eyes suddenly were not as warm anymore. The way he looked at him with a piercing look, void of remorse, as he handed his gnosis over willingly to go on a whole spiel about how his “duties were done”. It was the way he turned and treated the precious traveler with the same amount of kindness and gentleness the Childe had received the previous night, with such ease; it was a look he thought was reserved only for him. It was the way he was able to turn back around, stare at Childe with an unreadable gaze, and walk away without so much of a goodbye.

The same eyes that gazed at him with such affection and kindness were suddenly replaced with the eyes of a soldier. And it was only then that Childe fully realized the force he was reckoning with. Zhongli was a withered god who lived too long for his own good. A powerful deity that held the ability to shake the ground with a look; he who had been humbled by time and his sharp edges eroded by the millions of faces that passed him. Simply put, Childe was just another one of those faces. And again, he understood. If he lived for six thousand years, he wouldn’t want to be alive after the first hundred.

It was the duality that dug the blade deeper into his already bleeding chest. He felt used.

“I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together, Childe,” Zhongli had said to him on a warm Liyuen night, “a friend of mine, a long time ago, told me that I was… bad at connecting with people. Emotionally stunted, is what she called me. And she is correct, as I have definitely struggled with making connections in the past. But with you… it’s different. It’s easy.

Childe is thankful for the discretion that night provides him; Zhongli would have easily spotted the blush spreading across his pale cheeks had it been daytime.

“So you had trouble making a couple friends, so what?” The ginger shrugs, “I wasn’t the best at making friends, either. My mom always said I was too aggressive. Apparently that’s not such an appealing trait, after all.”

Zhongli chuckles, a beautiful sound. “It was a bit deeper than that, I’m afraid. Understanding the complexity of another’s emotions was always difficult for me, whereas she… she was loved by everyone. Adored by the youngest of fawns to the oldest of horses. It came so naturally to her. I was the opposite. Not that everyone hated me, no, people just had a harder time getting close to me. Which is why, upon meeting you, I was shocked to find that we clicked so well. Befriending you was as easy as breathing air.”

Oh, Archons, help him.

“And,” Zhongli continues, as if he hadn’t already wrecked the man six ways to hell and back, “I must sincerely thank you for indulging me once again.” The deity glances down at the bag full of antique trinkets in his lap. Childe’s lips turn upward into one of his more genuine, rare smiles.

“What’s with you tonight?” Childe responds, and Zhongli looks at him questioningly , “I mean, you never had a problem with me spoiling you rotten before. You’ve never even acknowledged it. Why start now?”

Zhongli tears his gaze away from the Harbinger.

“And,” the ginger continues, “it almost sounds like you’re saying goodbye.”

Zhongli smiles at him then. He wore a kind look on his face, eyes so impossibly warm that it reminded him of his grandmother’s pirozhki. Hot and steaming from the center, melting on his tongue, dissolving deliciously in his mouth and defrosting his entire body. His smile felt like it wrapped itself around his chest and squeezed the best way possible, fitting him back together in places Childe didn’t even realize he had broken.

“What makes you say that?”

Oh, Childe is pissed.

Fuck tomorrow morning, Childe is leaving tonight.

The memories of last night crash over him not unlike a tidal wave and suddenly, he’s drowning. Filled out the brim with a familiar rage burning through his chest and searing his finger tips, his legs, his fucking toes.

He stands abruptly when he realizes he’s been sitting and resumes his packing. It doesn’t take very long after that. A couple toiletries get shoved into the side pockets, his vision is hooked back onto his hip, and his mask is slid into its’ usual spot on his head. He looks at himself in the mirror on the way out and scowls at the way his hair looks more disheveled than usual. Red rims his dulled blue eyes, forcing him to accept that maybe he cried more than he’d like to admit. Whatever.

He swings the door open and-

“Childe,” lo and behold, Zhongli stands in his fucking doorway, “I’d like to talk to you, if that’s alright.” The man looks slightly disheveled. He’s a little out of breath, Childe notices, like he ran up those ridiculous flights of stairs to get to his room- which, by the way, he never disclosed that information with him.

The man in question huffs a laugh. “It’s not.”

He makes a move to brush past him, but is stopped by an unreasonably strong grip around his bicep.

“Tartaglia,” he pleads, “please.”

Childe snatches his arm back and spits, “don’t call me that.”

He retreats back into his room anyway, hearing Zhongli close the door behind him. He dumps the bag back onto his bed and curses himself for not leaving a millisecond earlier.

“You’re angry with me.” Zhongli starts, face as unreadable as ever.

“The sky is blue. Snezhnaya is cold. Are we still stating the obvious here?” He’s too angry to carefully choose his words. Too hurt to slip on his pleasant facade.

“Tartaglia,” he presses, and Childe really hates how his name sounds on his tongue, “I truly am sorry for the way things had to go. It was not in my intentions to… hurt you to the degree in which you feel. I simply was upholding the end of my contract and doing what was best for my people. I implore you to believe that making you feel used was not my main objective.“

Oh god, his apology sounds so robotic.

“So you’re aware that what you did was a little fucked up.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re aware that almost the entirety of Liyue places the blame on me.”

“Yes.”

Well, shit. “Good talk, Zhongli-xiansheng. If you’ll excuse me, I must begin my trip home.”

He stomps toward the door only to be stopped once again. Archons, if Childe had any motivation left, he most certainly would challenge him to a spar. The ginger huffs, and looks to the heavens in a silent plea for patience.

“Tartaglia, please, I’m not finished-“

“Yeah, well I am.” Their eyes lock. Blue meets gold in a hostile hold, refusing to break. “The second you handed your gnosis over, my business here was done. Whatever… relationship we had is done. You were my consultant and was a Harbinger here for business. A Harbinger that you obviously used for your disposal. So now that that’s over and done with, I really need to report to Tsaritsa, lest she have my head on a silver platter-“

“I spoke with Tsaritsa already.” Zhongli cuts in, his grip tightening around Childe’s wrist. “I asked her for more time with you.”

“You what.”

“Surely you are curious about the deal I struck with Tsaritsa. The contract to end all contracts, yes?” Childe’s wild look on his face eggs him to continue, “I struck a deal that granted you more time here in Liyue. With me.”

Childe is silent for a moment. The ex-Archon opens his mouth to continue.

“And I’d like to say I’ve known you long enough to know that you seek freedom. From what that may be, I do not know. But Tsaritsa has agreed to give you a choice, at the very least, a temporary one. An extended vacation or complete retirement is a choice to be made by you.” Zhongli finishes, looking to Tartaglia with hope.

“THAT is worth your fucking gnosis?!” Zhongli’s gnosis. The entire essence of his being. The very thing that makes him divine (thought it certainly isn’t the only thing that makes the man ethereal), was traded for him.

“Yes,” Zhongli replies with such ease it makes Childe’s head spin. “Among other things, of course.” An aggressive why is lodged in the back of Childe’s throat. Why me? A million questions swirl around his head, knocking him off balance. He would have swayed on his feet had Zhongli not been there to hold him upright.

“That’s insane. You’re insane. You…” Childe lets out a tired sigh, “I don’t understand you.” And he doesn’t. Because one minute he’s a cold hearted businessman, and the next he’s at his door, reduced to a mortal, begging him to stay. Granting him freedom. Really, what kind of fucked up game is this? Why didn’t anyone tell him he was a part of it?

Zhongli smiles. He smiles. “You remember our conversation from the night before, yes?”

Childe rolls his ever-blue eyes to the back of his head. “Remind me, Zhongli-sensei,”

“I said,” the deity starts, drawing both of Childe’s calloused hands between his own, “that I struggled to connect with others. Guizhong, the Goddess of Dust, was the one to bring to my attention my emotional constipation. And like I said, she was correct.”

Childe’s anger withers.

“Unfortunately I understand naught of the depth of your feelings of betrayal,” he continues, “but I do wish to understand how deeply humans feel. And in our time together, I’ve begun to understand through you. Despite your… complexities. And I wish to continue to learn. With you.” I wish to feel human is left unsaid, and laced between his words instead.

“What are you saying,” the Harbinger asks weakly.

“Take me with you.”

“What.”

“Take me with you. Wherever you go, I will follow, if you will allow it.”

Well duh, he’d allow it. Zhongli just had to work for it a little more. He can’t just waltz in here after breaking his heart and ruining his trust, demanding his friendship and companionship or whatever, after everything he was put through-

“Okay.”

Very nice ass to mouth filter, Ajax.

Zhongli’s eyes glow impossibly brighter, “Okay?”

Childe tugs his hands back to his side. “Yes, yes, fine. Whatever. But you can’t just. You can’t just use me again in the name of experimentation.”

“Tartaglia, I would never,” he assures him vehemently, “Of the seven, I was always the one most oblivious to emotions. You may ask Barbatos if you want. But I know that what I feel for you is real and I would not trade it for the world.”

Childe’s mind reels. Barbatos? Feelings?

“‘What you feel for me?’”

Zhongli cocks his head in confusion, as if his feelings were the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, yes. And you feel the same, no? It need not be said aloud.”

“It really doesn’t,” Childe affirms, “you can save me the embarrassment.”

“Wonderful,” Zhongli’s face brightens, and it’s only then that Childe is hit with the full realization that Zhongli is free. No longer is he tied to the city and burdened with the weight of the people. No longer does he have to associate himself with the likes of the Tsaritsa. Finally, after centuries and centuries, he is allowed the pleasure to smile so brightly despite feeling pained for finally leaving his people. He is Zhongli, and no longer Rex Lapis. Morax is long gone, too. The man before him is a man reborn, and Childe’s heart aches with happiness for him.

“Okay, well,” he clears his throat when he notices he’s been quiet for too long, “it’s been a long day and I’m tired. I think I’m just gonna take a shower and turn into bed and think about the rest tomorrow. Save it for future Childe, you know?”

He pads over to his hastily packed back and zips it back open, pulling out the toiletries he aggressively shoved in less than an hour ago. He digs his fingers into his neck and sighs at the release of tension. Summoning an angry ocean god took a lot more out of him than he anticipated.

“I agree,” Zhongli says, and begins to strip. “Personally I prefer the left side of the bed.”

Childe gawks at him.

“You-!” Truly an emotionally constipated god, indeed. He sighs and his shoulders droop, the fight leaving his body. “Fine. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be out in a bit.”

“I eagerly await your return,” Zhongli comments passively as he slips under the covers, a book he didn’t even know he was carrying tucked under his arm. Childe sighs for the nth time that night and turns to close the bathroom door behind him.

Future Childe certainly has a lot to deal with in the morning.

[therainbowwillow]

https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/639917088173113344/alright-its-been-a-hot-second-since-ive-written -Part 1

Okay, Hadestown Fanfic With Crossovers Where Orpheus’s Terms are Different and Also ✨Olympus Drama✨Part 2/???

I think my greatest struggle in writing is... posting it. And deciding on a consistent plot. That too. Expect changes. Edit: Well, well, well, there’s a draft feature on this website? I might just migrate to Tumblr.

I may make an overview post at some point so you don’t actually have to read this. A long TL;DR probably, because it is written by Miss What-Is-Concise. My TL;DRs need TL;DRs of their own. Anyway, I’m rambling, so let me actually get started.

Preemptive:

-Orpheus is Apollo’s kid in this version, as he is in many retellings. He is raised by Hermes.

-Hermes works for Hades, bringing souls to the underworld. He resides away from Olympus to fulfill said duties.

-Dionysus’ parentage is by Persephone and Hades. (Because there’s no way Persephone’s screwing Zeus in the other room. Also this is his more underworld-connected family ties.)

-You drink from the River Lethe, according to some ancient authors, to forget your past life. And if Virgil can blatantly rip off Homer, I’m stealing ideas too.

-Would you look at that? This “short” AU fic is expanding by the minute. Hades and Persephone’s are true to the musical and that’s about it at this point.

Eurydice drags Orpheus to his feet. He leans against her. “Eurydice...” he mumbles. “I... I’m so sorry.”

“I signed my life away. That wasn’t up to you. We need to get going.”

Orpheus nods. “Why’s he letting us go? I don’t remember... anything really. I sang. Then I...” he turns away. “It felt like I was sitting in a fire. I couldn’t sing, I couldn’t think. It was unbearable.”

“I’ll never let them lay a finger on you again.”

“You didn’t answer me. Why’s he letting us go?” he asks, softly.

“He’s not,” Persephone mutters. “He wants you to fail. Then he’ll have a canary for his mines.”

Orpheus shudders at the thought. “My song... I thought... Persephone, I think I rewrote every note a hundred times. I lost the love of my life for that melody. And... it failed.”

“Just walk, okay? Please. Once we’re out of here, none of it matters,” Eurydice pleads.

“H-how far?” He’s almost afraid to ask. The original walk had been a grueling task. This one, he thinks, might be a hundred times harder. Whatever Hades had done to him... the effects hadn’t faded. Eurydice must already think he’s a selfish, naive, worthless idiot, he’s certain, so he plans to stay quiet. Unless it gets bad. Only if he needs to tell her, he decides.

“A mile, maybe a little more,” Persephone replies. “We’ll rest in my old greenhouse. It’ll be a roof over our heads at least. Don’t look back,” she warns. “Hades’ servants will follow us. Don’t give them a reason to think we’re afraid.”

Eurydice wraps and arm around Orpheus’s waist. “Tell me if you need a break.” He nods.

———————————

Hades sinks into his office chair. A painting of his wife hangs on the wall. He’s posing at her side. They’re smiling. She’s holding a bouquet of flowers. He rises and storms over to the portrait. He rips it of the wall and it crumples to the ground, torn in two.

He glances out the window. He’s viewing his realm from the highest point in Hadestown. The landscape is as flat as a sheet of paper. No hills, no mountains, only rivers, flowing by some force that is not the gravity of the overworld. His tower is the only peak. And the smokestacks of his factories.

This is his realm. All of it is his. Every inch of dirt, every scrap of metal and gemstone beneath the ground. Every sullen face of every tortured worker who’d sold his soul away. The wall is his too. And the Styx, which wraps it 7 times over. He’s a king and his castle is protected by the highest of palisades and yet... that boy... that son of Apollo had taken it all from him. What is a king without his iron fists? Now he had shown softness, now he’d shown weakness. A crack in the wall will bring the whole structure down, he thinks to himself. But what else can he do? Persephone is his wife. She is *his*. To imagine a thousand winters and springs and summers without her...

The underworld is lonely. He cannot lose her. But he cannot let the boy escape. Nor his lover, nor his traitorous workers. If he shows them an inch, they’ll take a mile. Worse, the traitors were right. Orpheus is alive. Orpheus is not his. That poet is all that stands in the way of his kingdom. And like any barrier, he will fall. How? Hades wonders. How can he kill the boy, break his spirit and punish him without losing Persephone? What blinds his wife? he asks himself. That silly little song had manipulated him, taken hold of his heart like alcohol. And Persephone loves it. She believes, truly believes, that Orpheus deserves to live for the very reason he must die.

Hades slams his fists against the window. Perhaps she was right. He ought to follow in his brothers’ footsteps. Forget his wife. That simple action would be enough to fix everything. If he let her go, she’d have nothing to hold over him. He wouldn’t be her puppet. He’d kill Orpheus, chain up the boy’s foolish lover and send Achilles and Patroclus to the darkest mines, and force them to work day and night apart from each other. Sure, the bunch of them would whine like kenneled puppies, but he could take their cries. They’d forget everything if he could get them to drink from the Lethe. Orpheus would be easy. Threaten his pretty little muse and he’d be scrambling to his knees. Eurydice would be nothing without her poet. Achilles would resist. He’d fight a millennia before he or his lover bowed before their king. But they too would fall.

Only Persephone stands in the way, he knows. He likes to imagine he has her under his control. But he knows it’s a lie. The food of the underworld she’d eaten, it didn’t confine her as well as he’d hoped. Sure, her time above ground would be made unbearable, but she would still be out of his grasp. She could leave. She would leave. He knows her threats aren’t empty. So he’ll find a way around her. He needs her to come back. Without Persephone’s warmth, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

He watches the crowd of shades begin to disperse and it dawns on him. Orpheus gives them hope, but he makes them afraid. How many deceased reside in Hadestown? It’d take a hundred thousand mortal lifetimes to count. And how many had stepped forward to help the poet boy? Two. Among that crowd, he knew, were great heroes. Heroes who once resided in Elysium. And still, only two shades had betrayed him. Two out of a trillion. Hades smiles. He won’t need to kill Orpheus. One of his workers can take the fall. Even Achilles won’t succeed in standing against an army the size of his. And Hades will win. His wife will see that some dead man has killed the singer to appease his king. She’ll suspect, but without proof, what does she have on him? Eurydice will see she has no choice. Once the boy belongs to him, Orpheus is his to manipulate. She’ll be trapped. Achilles, for all of his strength, is nothing alone. Without his dear Patroclus, he’ll give in. And so Hades plots.

————————————

Hermes, god of roads and messages, receives word of his adoptive son’s predicament with astounding speed. And he fears for Orpheus. But Hermes guides souls to the underworld, to Hades. To betray the king of Hadestown by helping the boy would be to lose his work and by extension, his freedom to live on the railroad. Without an excuse, he’d be back on Olympus, listening to Zeus and Hera’s endless bickering, watching Ares and Aphrodite humiliate themselves, and helping Dionysus comfort Apollo over the death of the mortal pretty boy of the week. And they wonder why Artemis avoids the damn place at all costs. In fact, he’s stuck on Olympus right now, called to the counsel by Zeus? Athena? He can’t remember. Some mortal breaking some rule.

Orpheus is more important than the meeting. His messenger had interrupted the counsel meeting to bring him word of the poor boy’s situation. He’s not sure how to cover this one up. No one was meant to interrupt important matters as this. Plus, he’d given the kid directions straight into Hadestown, which was the opposite of what his contract with Hades had said. He wasn’t allowed to barter for the return of mortal souls and he wasn’t allowed to assist mortals in doing the same.

“Hermes!” Zeus booms. “What is the meaning of this?”

He rolls his eyes. “Begone, messenger.” He slips a note into the man’s hands: ‘Tell Orpheus I’m coming.’ “Nothing, father. Just... matters of work. You know how Hades is. And don’t get me started on Thanatos! I’m late by half a second and-“

“Enough! I’ve half a mind to banish you from this counsel.” Hermes smiles. His excuses have succeeded.

Dionysus laughs, considerably beyond tipsy on his own wine. “You mind if I go too? I’m sick of this awful alcohol and I’ve got something far better back home.”

“Dionysus, wasn’t there an agreement we made?” Athena inquires, icily. “You cannot come to our meetings drunk.”

He smiles. “Well, you see,” he snaps his fingers and shakes his head, washing away his intoxication. “I didn’t come drunk. I *got* drunk while here.” He raises a flask and shakes it, refilling the canteen instantly. “There’s a difference.”

Athena grits her teeth. “Father, one more of these counsels and I swear...”

“And husband,” Hera pipes up, “We were going to address that nymph girl you’re always hanging around?”

Zeus flushes a deep shade of red. “Out. All of you. We’re done here.”

Hermes rises, forcing himself to keep his composure, at least until he’s out of sight. He steps into the sunlight that dazzles Olympus, treks the road to the edge of the mortal realm and... “Hermes?”

“Gods have mercy,” he mutters. He turns. “Apollo.” The god is puffy-eyed, probably from crying. Even Hermes had to agree, his latest lover had been gorgeous. Hyacinthus, was his name, if he remembered correctly. Apollo himself had called the counsel to beg for mortality when the boy had died and he hadn’t found another for what? Seventeen years? Spare for Orpheus’s muse mother, of course. Still, this was unusual, even for Apollo’s mellow dramatic self.

“You’re afraid.”

“Don’t... don’t do that, would you?” Hermes snaps, recoiling. “Yeah, yeah, medicine and all, but I don’t want you telling me what I’m thinking.”

Apollo dips his head in acknowledgment. “It’s my son, isn’t it?”

Hermes shakes his head. One word to Zeus and... all Prometheus did was hand over a spark. This was treason. “No, just work.”

Apollo tilts his head. “You’re lying.”

“What cause would I have for lies? I cannot keep Hades waiting, now.” He whirls away from Apollo’s gaze.

“Perhaps... treason?” Apollo inquires. Hermes’s eyes widen.

“Strong accusations.” He forces his voice not to shake.

“I won’t turn you in.” Liar, Hermes thinks. He wants to get on Zeus’s good side. A chance at getting his lover boy back.

“Correct. You wouldn’t have anything to turn me in for,” he tells the son of Leto.

“Orpheus’s wife... no, fiancée. No... I don’t know! The girl. She’s dead. Orpheus’s song is a failure. I heard it from Olympus. Lovely, really. But not nearly enough to convince Hades to let her go. Nothing is.”

Hermes turns again to face his half-brother. “Keep your voice down, would you? If Zeus hears a word of this-“

Apollo cuts him off. “And you helped him. You broke your contract and you know Hades better than anyone, other than Persephone, if they still talk these days. He’s crueler than he once was. They say Elysium itself is no more, that there’s only Tartarus now. You’re afraid of his wrath. And you’re afraid of Zeus. He’ll punish you too. You saw what he did to Asclepius. Struck by lightning for treason against Hades. And that was before this... winter,” he says, softer now.

“I don’t want a lecture, Apollo. What do you want?” Hermes glares at the god.

“I want a deal.”

Hermes narrows his eyes. “What kind of deal?”

“You break me in to the underworld-“

“No. I’m in enough danger as is.”

“Hear me out.”

“I said no!” Hermes steps back onto the road. Apollo grabs his wrist.

“I can get you out of trouble. Dionysus!” The wine god steps out of the woods.

“I’m due to visit my mother. Hades won’t prevent me from entering his realm, I’m his son,” Dionysus explains. “You and Apollo are there on Demeter’s ask to learn why Persephone is late. You, because you’re the god of messages and Apollo because he was available, on leave from his duties to mourn.”

Hermes groans. “The walk is far. Even if you’re me. Days on end of moping and drunken ramblings for a plan almost certain to backfire? I said no.”

Apollo smiles. “Then I’ll turn you in,” he says simply.

“You won’t. Orpheus is your blood. You’d put him in more danger. He knew of my contract and he let me break it. You’d add a charge against him. And it’s me. You cared once, didn’t you?”

“You know I would. You said so yourself. I visited the poet boy twice, maybe. And you? Ask yourself: when was the last time you optionally visited Olympus? But Hyacinthus, I loved for years. If I turn you in, I’m one step closer to him. On Zeus’s good side again.” Hermes shifts on his feet. “It’ll be good to have a doctor at the boy’s side too, seeing as your instructions just about starved him to death.”

Hermes glares at him. “Don’t.”

“You know it’s true. So? Let’s go or you trade places with Prometheus.”

“Fine,” he mutters, through a clenched jaw.

“Good. Now, this is on our terms, Hermes. I will aid your son because you’ve always been good to me and because he is my blood. If he gets in my way, he belongs to Hades.”

[sup-hoes-its-me]

Mission (Bokuto x reader)

A/N: soooo ive been a depressed bitch and havent updated in months, sorry about that... I didnt even edit this, so beware typos ahead. Disabled reader x bokuto.

side note-if you guys think this is shit, just message me so i can delete it ✌✌

word count: 4435

Y/N sat in the gym on the sidelines, watching the team practice. Personally, she would never play. She was in a wheelchair, most likely for life. She hated it. She couldn’t play the game anymore. 

Bokuto tried getting her to help him toss the ball, but she was too embarrassed to roll over and attempt setting. Whenever Bokuto asked her to play, Akaashi would whack him on the back of the head and tell her she could just watch if she wanted.

Akaashi understood her. He watched out for her, and she really appreciated that. But Bokuto was just too much fun.

Those two, Bokuto and Y/N, have been friends for a long time. She met him when she was five, having moved into the city, directly in the house beside his. Their parents set up dozens and dozens of playdates until they eventually began walking to school and eating lunch together and talking all the time.

Then, there was an accident and suddenly, she couldn't play anymore. Bokuto was sad she couldn't play with them. He asked her many times. But, she always said no, and she wanted to cry each time.

At the same time, Bokuto always defended her, keeping other people, ones that could be rude to her for her disability, off her back. He also spent a lot of time making her laugh like crazy on the sidelines. He would send her funny looks and stick out his tongue whenever any teammate spiked past him.

To this day, he made her so happy.

“Y/N! Y/N! Did you see that?!” he asked her excitedly, running over to her with the biggest smile on his face.

With a nod, a silly grin grew on her face. “Yeah. You did awesome as always, Bokuto-kun,” she praised him, which sent him into a sort of euphoric stage. He got so hyper. No one ever praised him, especially not Akaashi. Yet, she always did.

“I’m gonna go play again. I'll do even better this time, for you!” he exclaimed before turning on his heel and rushing back onto the court. He was the captain, so he could run on and off the court as he pleased. At first, his team got annoyed with him for it, for running to that girl all the time. After a while, they accepted it, believing that there was nothing that could stop him.

That was one more thing they admired about their ace and captain. He was incredibly loyal to his best friend, Y/N. In a decade of knowing each other, the number of fights they had could be counted on one hand. He walked her home, ate lunch with her everyday, sat beside her in nearly every class, and took her to every practice and game they had.

He didn't care that she was in a wheelchair. He never even thought about it. While other people brought it up, he smiled proudly at his strong, brave best friend. He’d seriously kick some ass if anyone harassed her, too.

And she watched all the games and practices too. She always cheered him on and praised him whenever he did well. If she did that, he worked even harder and got  better. She loved going home with him, listening to him talk and laugh and tell the stupidest jokes you’ve ever heard.

She was so shy, but he brought out the best in her. He really, really did.

Practice came to a close after another hour. She made sure her bag was hung on one of the handles and her keys were in her pocket. Bokuto took a shower and got all his things together before he approached her, bouncing on his feet happily.

“Y/N, do you wanna get ice cream with Kuroo tonight?”

She grinned, nodding excitedly. She loved Kuroo too. He was funny and snarky, but equally as foolish as Bokuto whenever they got together. “Yeah! Just let me text my mom, okay?”

Quickly, she texted her mom to tell her she was going out for a little while with Bokuto. A minute later, her phone chimed. Her mother sent her a smiley face and a message saying, ‘be back by ten.’

Her mom was always nervous about her going out by herself, which was understandable. She trusted Bokuto though, and occasionally, she even let Kuroo take Y/N out to games. She’d known them for so long, it made her comfortable knowing her daughter was in good hands.

She pocketed her phone again. “She said it was okay. Let's go,” she cheered. He hung his book bag on the handle of her wheelchair before turning her around and pushing her toward the door.

“Bye, L/N-senpai!” Onaga called to her. She eagerly waved to him. A chorus of goodbyes rang out to her as she left. Everyone on the team liked her, genuinely. If they didn't, Bokuto would be furious. Fortunately, that never happened.

“Y/N, have you seen any good movies lately?”

“Not really.”

He nodded, a little hum in the back of his throat in agreement. “Yeah, there really isn't anything out right now, is there?” He always asked her about movies because she watched them all the time, mostly in class while she was on her phone...she wasn't exactly the best student.

She added, “But, I saw a movie, and the main character reminded me of you.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah. He was super funny and really loud, and his hair stuck up just like yours.”

“Was he handsome?”

“Yep.”

“Hey! Hey! Hey! That's even better, Y/N!”

She looked down at her hands in her lap, thinking of what to say next. She felt so awkward calling him handsome, just wanting to change the topic before he could say anything else.

“Training camp is coming up, right? At Nekoma?”

“Yep, yep. Next week.” He pushed her up on the sidewalk of the street, only about seven blocks away from the ice cream place they always went to. “Do you want to come and watch me practice?”

“Of course I do!”

“Awesome!”

She clasped her hands together and smiled shyly, her eyes trailing to her lap. “And I’ll get to meet everyone.”

He pouted, feverishly shaking his head. “No! All those guys will like you too much! They’ll take you away from me! Gah!” he cried, his mood dropping pathetically in a moment.

Comfortingly, she placed a soft hand on his and shook her head subtly. “Are you kidding? You’re the bestest friend in the entire world. None of those guys could ever replace you,” she told him, giving his hand a gentle pat.

“Yeah, but you always get so excited when we hang out with Kuroo…” he continued to mope despite her assurance.

She only rolled her eyes. “That's because Kuroo is a good friend. I don't have that many friends, you know?”

“Why do you need a lot of friends when you have me?”

“You are definitely a handful. Enough for me,” she mumbled, turning back around in her seat. She could see the familiar sign of the cute little ice cream parlor. It wasn't anything like some ice cream bars from the convenience store, it was thick creamy goodness covered in whatever toppings she wanted. Sometimes, she worried about getting chubby when she went there too often.

Still, no matter what she said, Bokuto was irked. Truthfully, he worried that Kuroo would steal Y/N away from him. He was taller and handsome and funny and really cool sometimes. Cooler than him…

“You okay, Bokuto-kun?”

He jumped out his thoughts at the sound of her sweet voice. “Yeah. Yep, I'm totally good.” That sounded fake as hell, but okay.

She pushed open the door to the store with her arm and they entered. It was cold in there, but really pleasant. It smelled like a wonderland of sweets, her favorite guilty pleasure. The cashier, a sweet young man, called to her and Bokuto over the counter.

“Hey, L/N-san, Bokuto-san!” He waved to them both.

“Hi, Kiku! We're just waiting for Kuroo.”

“Okay then. Just tell me when you're ready!”

Just then, the door flew open and the captain entered, his hair even messier from the wind outside. Y/N giggled, waving at him shyly. “You look so weird, Kuroo!” she confessed when he approached.

His brows furrowed, and he sent her a judging look. Nevertheless, he still leaned down for his hug. He always hugged her, claiming he found her positively adorable. “L/N, its been a while.”

“Kuroo, we just saw you last Wednesday,” she whined. He stepped back, and grinned down at her.

“Sup, Brokuto,” he nodded to his friend who waved back, muttering out a greeting. He didn't know why but, he was burning with jealousy. Why did Kuroo have to hug her all the time? And why was she always giggling around him? It frustrated him to no end.

She was only supposed to hug him and smile when he told jokes, and giggle like some stupid schoolgirl when he did something cute. He kept hanging out with Kuroo, but it still irritated him anyway.

“Bokuto, are you sure you're okay?” she asked him, concern lacing her words. Her soft fingers once again rested upon his own, and it knocked him from his jealous thoughts.

He nodded, pushing her over to the counter where Kuroo was already getting his chocolate ice cream, like he got every time. He paid for the cup, knowing the exact change by now. Kiku then looked down at Y/N.

Same thing as always. “Vanilla with cherries, please.”

“And you, Bokuto?”

He thought for a second, not that it really mattered. “Uh, I'll just have the same thing,” he replied simply. There was a small hum of affirmation as the boy scooped up two cups of ice cream and spooned on the candy cherries.

Bokuto pulled out six hundred yen, handing it to Kiku behind the counter. Meanwhile, Y/N grabbed the ice cream from the counter, one cup in her right hand and the other in her left.

They always sat at the small table by the window, two seats across from each other and a big space in the middle for Y/N to sit at. Kuroo was already there, munching on his ice cream.

“Kuroo, you should have seen Bokuto-kun today! He was so amazing. He didn't mess up once, and he did this amazing quick set with Akaashi!” she explained, proceeding to spoon ice cream into her mouth. She sent a happy smile to Bokuto, causing him to grin proudly. He was pretty awesome if his little Y/N thought so.

“As good as me though?” Kuroo joked.

“Aw, Kuroo, you know I can't answer that. You both are so good!”

Why couldn't she answer that? Bokuto was her best friend in the entire world. She always told him he was the best ace in the whole prefecture. Kuroo wasn't even an ace. So why couldn't she just say he was better?

Then again, she always did like Kuroo more than him. She thought he was so cool…

Kuroo piped up, just as Bokuto was about to try and tell a joke. His smile was quick to dissolve though.“Hey, Y/N, can I have a cherry?” he asked, eyeing her cup.

She shrugged and lifted out one of the vibrantly red cherries by the stem. She held it out for him to take, only he just leaned forward and bit off the cherry right off the stem between her finger tips. A smirk grew on his lips as he watched her cheeks turn a bright red, and her to quickly look down at her ice cream.

That was so weird.

It made Bokuto furious.

He stood up abruptly, and all eyes rose to his figure. He tried playing it off though. “I almost forgot. Kuroo, I have to talk to you about...volleyball stuff. Let's go outside.”

“But-”

“Sorry, Y/N-chan. This is some serious business. We’ll be back in a minute, I promise,” he told her, a single hand tapping her on the head. She rolled her eyes and nodded at his gesture.

Bokuto then forcibly yanked Kuroo outside with him, making sure the door was shut before totally losing his cool. “Dude, what the hell? Stop flirting with her.”

Kuroo sighed, shaking his head. “Come on, Bro. You know I'm only joking around.” His words meant absolutely nothing to Bokuto, who was angry, but mainly just dejected and sad.

He didn't understand why this was all happening. Why his friend was flirting with his crush. Why his childhood friend, best friend, and future girlfriend, was blushing and giggling around his other friend. He didn't like any of it, and his heart hurt.

“No! I really, really like her! She's my soulmate! If you keep doing that kinda stuff, she's gonna like you instead!” he exclaimed, his fists releasing at his sides. He felt terrible, like his life was being stolen from him, life being Y/N. He might even cry.

Kuroo sighed, shaking his head once again. He was being jealous for no reason at all. If only he would listen and quit being so ignorant. “She'd be nuts if she liked me when she already has you.”

“Huh?”

“You're the only guy ever who has loved her through everything. You take care of her. You push her around all day, and bring her to all your games, and you buy her ice cream all the damn time. You walk her home, you make her laugh, and you kick ass whenever someone makes fun of her,” Kuroo explained. “She’s crazy if she doesn't love you.”

He shuffled, feeling let down still. “She only sees me as her best friend.”

Kuroo placed his hands on the guys shoulder firmly. He looked at him completely seriously and practically commanded, “Well, you have to change that! Make her fall in love with you!”

“I can do that?!”

“Hell yeah, bro!” he cheered. “Mission: Make L/N Y/N fall in love with you.” That's what they called it. They decided that the plan would commence on Monday. By now, Bokuto was desperate; he needed Y/N to love him back because he can't imagine a day in his life without seeing her.

But he failed to realize one thing. Their plan was completely pointless.

________________________

Monday. The day he would make Y/N fall in love with him. He woke up that morning and brushed his hair, making sure it looked really good, slick and charming. He chewed a ton of gum, just to make sure his breath stayed minty even after brushing his teeth. He even went so far as wearing the uniform correctly with the tie and all. Normally, he only wore the shirt and blazer.

He left the house with a smile on his face and walked up the sidewalk to her door. He knocked a couple times until her mother opened the door. “Koutarou-kun, you're early today,” she hummed. “You look quite handsome today, too. Did you do something with your hair?”

“Yep! Thank you, L/N-san,” he said with a nod of his head. He was relieved to hear her say he looked good. He needed to look his best for Y/N.

Behind her mother, the girl wheeled over with her bag in her lap. She looked adorable, as always. Her hair was perfect, and her face was bashful with those red cheeks and cute smile. She was an angel, and he knew that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be as attractive as her.

“Bye, you two. Have a good day at school.” her mother said, moving out of the way so Y/N could roll outside. Bokuto waved to the woman as she shut the door. From there, he took the handles of her chair and started down the ramp.

When they were on the sidewalk, her voice made him pause. “Bokuto, come here,” she told him, waving for him to stand in front of her. She scanned his figure with scrutiny, noticing every little detail that was off about him that morning.

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “What-”

“You look so weird today. Why’d you do that to your hair?” she asked, tilting her head to the side, puzzled. It didn't look good in her eyes, only strange and uncomfortable.

He flushed, not expecting those words from her. He thought she would be impressed. “Get down here.” He leaned down and immediately felt her hands running through his hair. She hummed as she did so, making sure that all the spikes were back in order. Then, when she was done with that, her hands went to his tie. She slipped it from his neck. “Now you look like the Bokuto I love,” she laughed with a smile on her perfect lips.

His cheeks flared, and he hurried back behind her, pushing her along. He tried his best to hide his fluster, but she was too much for him to handle. She said she loved him, sure, it wasn't anything romantic, only friendly, but she still said it. His heart soared in his chest, and he felt like he could fly.

Wait...he was supposed to be making her feel that way. His plan was already failing. He would have to step up his game.

Swiftly, despite his nerves, he swooped down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. It lingered for only half a second before he pulled away. His cheeks were even brighter now, whereas hers failed to change color at all. Was she not embarrassed at all? He just kissed her and she didn't care.

Why?!

“Gosh, that's new,” she giggled, pressing her fingertips to her cheek. “What was that for?”

“Because you're so cute.” Beautiful. Funny. Adorable. Sweet. Kind. Brave. Perfect. He would list all those things and even more, if only he wasn’t such a coward.

He, at least, expected a reaction to that but she only smiled and shook her head. “You’re too much, Bokuto.” Not a blush, not a shake in her voice, nothing.

He was failing, dammit.

The walk to school was short, mostly because he was thinking of ways to woe Y/N. There were so many thoughts in his head that he thought could work, but this girl was unfazed and he didn't know if he even had a chance of getting a reaction, much less evoking love.

Classes went by quickly as well, mostly because he couldn't focus at all. Multiple times, he was scolded by his teachers for not doing his work. And when he took her to practice, he couldn't even say anything. He just pouted and dragged his feet.

She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but she knew he wouldn't tell her the truth. Something about him was just so off today.

And then she sat on the sidelines, watching everyone play. She said nothing, she couldn't. Bokuto kept messing up. He hit the ball into the net four times, and he kept spiking the ball out of the box. He wasn't his normal self, and it was hurting the team today.

Eventually, he shouted, voice pained and anguished, “Don't pass to me anymore! I’m a terrible ace!” His head dropped and he walked off the court, and called for a five minute break. Then, he went to sulk in the corner.

Akaashi walked over to Y/N, who was sitting on the side biting at her nails nervously. She’d never seen Bokuto mess up this badly. It was making her anxious. Something must have happened to him to make him this upset. It was even more concerning that he wouldn't tell her what was wrong. He always vented to her.

The boy looked down at her boredly. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I don't know! Ever since this morning, he’s been upset, but he won't tell me!” she cried, dramatically pressing her face into her hands. “I’m so worried about him!”

“Hmm, that's strange,” Akaashi muttered. He sent a look to the captain, who was still sulking, but this time, he was sneakily staring at his two friends. He tried to hide it by keeping his head down, but it was obvious his eyes were glued on them.

She mumbled, oblivious to his gaze, “I don't know what to do.”

“Yell at him. Say something to make him feel better. You've been pretty quiet all practice, you know.” He placed a hand on her shoulder with a small pat.

She lifted her head, mustering up some courage and her voice. He was right. Her encouragement always brought him out of his dejection mode. “Kou-kun! You can do it! You're the best ace in the whole world!” she yelled to him. “I believe in you!”

Immediately, he perked up. His hair seemed like it spiked up higher with his happiness. It was so cute. His cheeks turned red, and he turned around, approaching the court.

Akaashi knew what was going on. He didn't say anything, but he did send her a quiet, “good job” under his breath. Damn, those two, so in love with each other it made him want to throw up.  

The practice continued after that, and just as she said, he did so much better. All his spikes were amazing. He was back in the game. Her heart beat faster, excited that her simply words could make him feel so much better.

When he performed a particularly strong and amazing spike, he screamed. He ran across the court to Y/N, grabbing her hands tightly and shaking them. His expression was begging for praise, and she would give him some...right after he released her hands. “Bokuto, your hands are sweaty.”

The smile on his face faltered. Damn, rejected once again.

“Are you okay? You’ve been acting weird all day…”

“No! I’m not okay!” he shouted, almost theatrically. He turned his head, his eyes shut and his cheeks puffed out in a strong pout. She raised a hand to touch his arm, but he only stepped away, huffing.

She frowned, biting her lip. Was he upset this whole time because of her? She didn't think she'd done anything wrong, but with Bokuto, it could be one of the littlest things to set him off. It made her so incredibly sad.

She asked tentatively, her words just barely a whisper. “What’s wrong?”

He said nothing though. He only ducked his head and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Fine! Don’t tell me! Talk to stupid Akaashi instead!” she yelled him, turning her head away from him as well, arms crossed and cheeks in a pout. Akaashi, in the distance, sighed. He wasn't even offended, just fucking exhausted. This entire argument was ridiculous.

Bokuto wanted to maintain the silent treatment, but he couldn't. He felt like his mouth was gonna burst open and his mind was going to explode with all the self-deprecating things bouncing around in there.

“Why do you like Kuroo more than me?!” he questioned, sending her a glare. “What makes him so special that you have a crush on him?” He said it. He finally said it.

So much for that plan. It was out the window and burning now.

Why the hell had he come to that conclusion? In no way, ever, would she like Kuroo. If that was what Bokuto was upset about all day, then he was a complete dumbass. “I don't have a crush on Kuroo, Bokuto! Why the hell would you think that?”

“Because you always hug him and laugh at his jokes and flirt with him and giggle and do all that stuff when he's around!”

“You dumbass, I do those same things around you too. I’d never let Kuroo kiss me, you know? I wouldn't fix his hair if he changed it, because I don't care about him or how he looks. You know who I care about?” She looked right at him as if challenging him to say anything other than the right answer. “You. I thought that was obvious!”

“Well, I care about you a lot more, Y/N. You're my favorite person ever, and I don't want anybody taking you away from me,” he exclaimed. “Not Kuroo, not Akaashi, no one!”

“No one's ever gonna do that, Bokuto. I told you that. You're all I need!”

“Why don't you love me then?!” he blurted out without thinking. “I love you so much, and I thought you knew. How did you not notice, Y/N? How can you not love me back?” That was embarrassing, but he couldn't go back on it now. Maybe he just ruined everything...He didn't know.

But he sure did feel like a total disaster.

She gaped at him. He was always up front, but he never said something like that. Was that why he kissed her this morning? Did he fix his hair and uniform just for her? Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the thought.

She loved Bokuto. Everyone on the planet knew she loved him, just not him.

Stupid.

“Come here, you crazy birdbrain,” she ordered, waving him closer. He was so tall, so tall that she hated the difference. But when he leaned down, she could reach him just fine. Gently, she placed both her cold hands on his cheeks before yanking him against her. For such a small girl, she was strong.

Her lips smashed to his. She kissed him with her eyes squeezed shut and her lips pressed together. It was so awkward and clumsy, since it was her first kiss after all.

His eyes remained open, wide and shocked. Y/N was kissing him. His soulmate was finally kissing him. He felt like he was in a dream. He placed his hands on the arm rests of her chair to keep himself steady. Suddenly, his legs felt so shaky he might fall over.

She pulled away and just stared at him. “I love you, stupid,” she told him firmly. His shocked open mouthed gap quickly turned into a wild, ecstatic grin. He jumped back, throwing both his fists in the air, falling to his knees, and proceeding to screech.

Y/N stifled her laughter with her hand. He was just too cute. Her eyes scanned the room, seeing all the members of the team watching in amusement. Everyone knew they would get together one of these days.

Even Kuroo.

[bbydolldijah]

Tidbits from my journal and thoughts during this trying, grieving time. You can read or ignore this, I just need to let it out...

"8/28/20 at 11:11 pm. Thats the time i found out. Since then I've cried all night and some parts of the day. It comes in heavy waves. The times i dont cry i feel like theres a huge boulder weighing me down, forcing me to move slow and cling to the earth. My chest hurts as well as my head. The nausea comes and goes. I heard his voice earlier today and i just broke. I avoided social media because its too overwhelming right now. I dont want to see anymore sorrow or condolences. He should be here. He should still be here..."

"I just know i miss him. I carry that in every waking moment of my day. Nothing really distracts me. It's all i know right now. Though im still going on, in my mind and heart he's just there. I really do miss him. And nothing will ever make me forget that..."

"I feel like im back to living on autopilot. I keep trying to figure out what to do with my day if im not doing schoolwork, but my mind is just a blank screen. Ive literally been more forgetful. Walking in circles. Feeling like a zombie. Questioning what the hell am i even doing anymore. Its like i cant think for myself properly. I just do what im used to without feeling anything..."

"How am I going to make it through the rest of the school year like this, my last semester before graduating…"

"I don't want to wake up just to cry cuz i remember its all real and not just in my damn head. I dont want anymore more shock. Or chest pains. Or headaches. Or sorrow and heartache. I dont want the random breakdowns and panic attacks, especially in the middle of the night. For once in my life, i want my soul to feel peace without any heavy pain and depression bursting through my front door like a damn hurricane..."

"You don't want to die. You want to kill whats hurting you..."

"I wonder if he was peaceful. That he left with love, warmth and light. I hope it was, in the very least..."

"I will never get to meet him. Tell him thank you for everything. Get to hug him or see him smile. Thats gone forever. And like everyone else right now who is in disbelief, i have to live with that..."

"I hope that his spirit doesn't haunt me too much. Ive had to deal with that before. Dealing with it again i fear will literally kill me..."

"i watched not one, but two tributes. Thinking that my numbness would keep me from breaking down. I saw him and heard his voice… (it was 12 minutes long)…

I had a full blown panic attack a few minutes after.

I thought I was ready, but I'm not.

I was shaking. My heart was beating so fast. My chest hurts (still does, just not as much as it does at night) and im gasping for air. Looking for a sign or a miracle that this is some sort of nightmare. But i never find it... (Who knew how long it lasted before I finally fell asleep)… "

"Thats my schedule these past few days. Wake up numb, crying or both. Block off social media (to an extent). Go on like everything is normal, going through the motions. Listen to sad music while fighting tears. Feel tired by midday. Still force myself to work. Fight off more tears. Try not to close my eyes or look at the sky because i just keep seeing him. I keep seeing him…"

"I just quit. I have no faith. Everything i tried to hold on to was taken from me. I quit."

"my mother cried too. She said she cried for a half hour that night when the news broke. She cried again this afternoon."

"Why is his death hitting harder than the rest?"

"Im trying to keep going cuz i know thats what he would want… Thing is, i dont think ill ever be as strong as he was. The strength he had will forever be unmatched."

"Im just trying to survive at this point… "

"My birthday is nearly a month away. I don't want to celebrate this year."

"I can't make it (this grief) leave, just like i cant make him come back..."

"Damn it! Why did you have to go?!"

"I doubt heaven has enough of its sweet rivers and waterfalls to make up for the tears ive wept..."

"When is this pain going to end? Because i can't live with it no more of it. I can't bear any more."

"This isn't really happening…

… is it?"

[doctordiscord123]

Whumptober Day 30: Recovery

A sequel to this one here!

Bim get rescued, but the damage done to his subconscious is worse than the egos first realize.

Tag List: @demon-dark-666 @devon-rever-860 @yeemo-pilots @bender-of-life

Warnings: Conditioning, Murder, long af Characters: Bim Trimmer, Wilford Warfstache, Dr. Iplier, the King of the Squirrels Pairings: Bim Trimmer/The King of the Squirrels

Bim hummed happily, curling tight in his wooden cage around his stuffed toy. He’d been a good boy, and he’d gotten a new toy because of it. A soft puppy plushie. Bim hadn’t put it down since he’d been given it that afternoon.

Bim made a sound almost like a purr as he burrowed into the soft dog bed, much more forgiving than just lying on the wooden floor of the dog cage. Another past reward. He like his rewards. He liked being a good boy. And when he shifted his gaze to stare lovingly at his sleeping Owner in their bed, it was so hard to believe that he’d once fought against them so hard.

His Master (his Owner’s father) had gotten nicer, too. Before Bim had realized it was so much easier to obey, his Master had been...cruel, to say the least. But now, he was the one who liked to spoil Bim, buy him his rewards, sneak him treats off his own plate, to the point where Bim had gotten into the habit of curling up on the floor beside him every morning for breakfast, hoping for a treat. His Master liked to pet Bim, too, he liked to rake his fingers through his hair, and Bim loved it, leaning into the gentle touches with soft, happy sounds.

His Mistress...the mother...she still scared him. She hadn’t been happy when Bim finally broke under their harsh treatment. She still analyzed every aspect of his behavior, searching for wrongdoing, and when she found even the most minuscule of things, she was quick to punish. Bim had been napping peacefully in the fluffy dog bed by the couch, and he’d woken up tied down in the basement, his Mistress’ whip biting into his back, because he’d apparently been talking in his sleep. He wasn’t allowed to talk. He’d made a noise that had -- according to her -- sounded too much like a ‘thank you’ when he’d been given his plushie, and she’d tried to take it away, but his Owner wouldn’t let her. Bim loved them all the more for it.

Bim purred again, burying his face against his plushie, and the little bell on his collar rang. He didn’t mind. He was happy. He was a good boy. A good pet.

And then he blinked.

One moment, there was nothing, and then Bim blinked, there was a faint popping sound like...like popping bubblegum, and in the next, there was a man, standing in the room. Bim stifled his scream, eyes impossibly wide as he struggled to see the man without his glasses. He could see pink. He watched as the man spun in a circle, watched as he stiffened when he spotted Bim’s cage. Bim froze, pressing himself as far back as he could he manage. Something Bim couldn’t quite see crossed the man’s features, and then he was turning to Bim’s Owner in the bed.

The next thing Bim knew, the man was whipping out a revolver and shooting his Owner point-blank between the eyes just as they were beginning to stir.

Bim screamed.

And then the man was unlocking the cage door and crouching down. Bim pressed himself against the back wall, face buried between his knees and clutching his plushie desperately. He shook, and tried not to cry, but he couldn’t help the hot tears that made their way down his face.

“...Bim? Is that you?”

Bim’s head shot up, curling slightly into a tighter ball. The man was staring at him. Now that he was closer, Bim could make out more of his face, particularly his bright pink mustache. Bim hadn’t been called that name for so long...he’d almost forgotten it...

He stiffened, breath hitching, when the man reached inside, laying a hand on his leg. He looked...scared. “My God...what have they done to you?” Bim didn’t move, didn’t reply. The man’s hand was warm. It was...nice. “Bim, please...do...do you remember me? It’s Wilford.”

Something snapped back into place in Bim’s head, and more tears flowed down his face as he nodded shakily. Wilford split in a relieved grin, and withdrew his hand. Bim crawled out of the cage, and -- after a moment of hesitation -- right into Wilford’s lap, clinging to him desperately in a crushing hug as he shook. He sobbed harder, burying his face in the crook of Wilford’s neck. He still smelled like cotton candy and gunpowder. It was so achingly familiar, and Bim never wanted to lose it again.

Wilford’s hands settled on Bim’s hips, squeezing them, and he rambled as they hugged. “Oh my God, it’s you, it’s really you, we finally found you, God Bim, we’ve been searching for months, but-but-but you’d just vanished, a-a-and something happened to your magic, not even the Host could get a lock on you, and -- shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay, it’s okay now, I --”

His hands shifted up, wrapping his arms more firmly around him, and Bim cried out, going completely stiff in Wilford’s arms as the bell on his collar chimed. Wilford froze, and slowly pried Bim off his lap, turning him around. He gasped, and Bim choked, squeezing his plushie tight, as Wilford ghosted a finger over the dozens of laceration scars and newer wounds. “Oh...Bim...”

Bim could feel the shift in Wilford, and he flinched, curling up. It was just like when his Mistress discovered he did something wrong. He didn’t want to be hurt. Wilford loved him, why was he angry, Bim could be good, he was a good boy, he didn’t want to hurt --

So deep in his own head, Bim didn’t notice Wilford undoing the collar until the bell chimed and Bim felt the absence of the familiar pressure. Almost instantly, he felt like he could breathe better, and the result was a harsh coughing fit that left him with watering eyes and his forehead pressed to the floor, breath wheezing. He made a small sound when he felt Wilford pick him up, holding him close to his chest. “Come on, Bim. I’m going to take you home. King’s dying to see you again.”

Again, another piece slotted back into place in Bim’s mind at that name. King. The King of the Squirrels. His boyfriend, his sweet, caring, most likely worried sick boyfriend. And Bim broke down again, clinging to Wilford’s shirt and squeezing his eyes shut as Wilford carried him through whatever dimension he used to get around.

“Dark! Dr. Iplier! I found him, he’s --”

“What?! Where is he, let me see hi -- oh my God! Quick, get him up to my office -- King! Host, get up here! Bim --”

The next few days passed in a blur. Bim mainly stayed in Dr. Iplier’s office as he and the Host tended to his wounds. Dr. Iplier had questioned the deep, white abrasion scars on his throat, but Bim had just shrugged and mumbled something about not liking his collar at first. Dr. Iplier and the Host had both paled, but said nothing more about it. All the while, King had adamantly refused to leave his side, pressing kisses to every part of his face he could get to and sobbing out endless ‘I love you’s -- at first. Bim quickly got overwhelmed, unused to the attention, unused to the chaos of the manor, unused to everything but pain and being treated like a dog. Dr. Iplier kicked King out, but he still snuck back in often, if only just to hold his hand. 

About a week into his...rescue...Dr. Iplier had deemed it okay to try and reintroduce Bim to the others at breakfast. King had walked him down the stairs, steadying him when he stumbled or tripped -- Bim wasn’t exactly used to walking upright anymore. When they’d arrived, Dr. Iplier and King had slipped into their designated spots, and -- running on pure habit -- Bim had curled up on the floor by the head of the table, where his Master usually sat, hoping for treats as usual. He hardly recognized the fact that it was Wilford, not his Master, that sat in the chair, and he just waited for the anticipated pets and his bowl of food to be placed in front of him.

“Bim...what are you doing?”

Bim blinked up at King, who was staring at him with nothing but concern. The blank, glazed look slowly faded from Bim’s eyes, instead replaced by fear. “I...” He glanced at Wilford, who smiled softly at him, then got unsteadily to his feet. He slid uncertainly into the empty chair between King and Eric, blinking owlishly as the others stared at him, silent. He flinched wildly when Silver reached past him to set a plate of pancakes and bacon down in front of him. Bim simply stared at the food as the others began to eat. He...wasn’t sure how to, anymore. But when he saw the others pick up the bacon with their hands, he tentatively did the same, biting into it.

When the rest of his plate was gone in ten seconds, he’d been forced to reveal that the only thing he’d been fed for the past nine months he’d been missing was dog food.

And then he promptly threw up his breakfast all over the kitchen floor, his stomach unused to proper food after so long.

Dr. Iplier had whisked him away back up to his office as Google cleaned up the mess, setting up an IV with the proper nutrients to get Bim’s body back to normal. All the while, Bim sobbed and panicked, rambling on that he was sorry, that he was a good boy, that he didn’t mean to make a mess, please don’t hurt him --

Bim eventually passed out, emotions running high, stress higher, and he’s slept for two days.

They didn’t try a proper meal again for another month, slowly getting Bim’s body used to the idea of real food again. Bim was getting better. His body wasn’t as thin and sickly. He flinched less. He could walk again, properly, without help. He was talking easier, the fear of being dragged away with every word he spoke slowly fading away. He still felt...odd, wearing clothes after nine months going without. His own clothes hurt his back too much. Too pressed, too scratchy, too...formal. But King’s t-shirts were big, and soft, and they smelled like King, and Bim could manage those. It was kind of funny...Bim’s shirts used to be big on King.

They were heading to dinner, hand in hand, and Bim murmuring softly in response to King’s chatter. They slid into their seats, and Bim jolted in place like was going to get on the floor, but he stopped himself, squeezing King’s hand instead, and King pecked him on the cheek. Google had made dinner. Apparently, it had been Bim’s favorite before he’d been captured. Homemade cheeseburgers, as rare as possible, and just the smell alone had Bim’s mouth watering. He could hardly wait for the others to get theirs, digging in the second he was allowed, and the second the borderline raw meat touched his tongue, his pupils were blowing wide, and he’d later be told that he devoured his food in seconds before tearing out the door.

Dark had to spend a week covering up the mess Bim made as he left half-eaten bodies and bloody, gory trails scattered across the city, in a complete feeding frenzy rampage after he’d been left to starve for months.

But...Bim was getting better. He could sleep with King in his bed without falling to the urge to sleep on the floor instead. He liked being home. He liked eating real food, he liked snuggling with King, he liked being warm. He liked being safe. He...he liked the humanity he was slowly gaining back.

But...

Bim rolled over in King’s arms, making sure he was asleep. King was snoring softly, mouth open, and drooling all over his pillow. Bim smiled, brushing King’s hair from his eyes, before slipping out of his arms, and leaving King’s room, hurrying to his own. He slipped a hand under the pillow of his bed, pulling out the little puppy plushie his Master had give him. He squeezed it, burying his face in it’s soft synthetic fur. It still smelled like his Owner, like his Master, and tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

He missed home, too.

[liesyousoldme]

reddie + zombies/apocalypse/etc

warning for blood/gore

It has become difficult,over the last ten years, to shock Eddie Kaspbrak.

He doesn’t remember thelast time he was shocked by something. He can think of things that shocked him,sure. His mother lasting 76 days After, which was 16 more than he’d expected ofher. Finding a boy bleeding in an alley on a supply run, tears on his face andbegging for help, swearing it wasn’t a bite, he’d been attacked, it was a knifewound. Stanley and Patty announcing a pregnancy. But none of those things hadhappened within the last eight years.

After a while, in theAfter, things like bloody injuries, death, and violence lose their shockfactor. When something happens so often, it’s hard to find the energy to evenfeel surprised, to feel scared. It’s just another day. And in the past few years,things have gotten better. Eddie’s heard whispers that this might be a new eraentirely. After the After. He tries not to get his hopes up, but living in acommunity filled with people, with a small but sufficient system of government,has led him to believe that their may just be an after the After, after all.

His house has twobedrooms. One is his own, one is Richie’s. They have a small kitchen, abathroom, a living space, and a garden in the front. It’s all they need. Eddieis a medic, working in the infirmary and helping Mike, the closest thing theircommunity has to a real doctor. He had been a veterinarian, or at least on theway to becoming one, and he knew what to do to treat serious injuries. Nowadaysthe wounds tend to be much tamer than they had been in years past, but thereare still the occasional bites. He doesn’t know that the bites will ever goaway.

Richie is a scavenger, andEddie hates it. Hates sleeping in the house by himself for two or three nightsin a row every month when Richie is out. Hates that he doesn’t really sleep,not at all, because he’s too busy worrying his best friend is out there, dead,or injured, or bitten. He spends some of those nights with Mike and Bill,playing board games in their living room. Others he spends with Stan and Patty,playing with their daughter to give his mind a break from the overwhelmingconcern for Richie’s wellbeing.

Sometimes he visits Bev,who is also worrying, because Ben is a scavenger, too. And even though Beverlyand Ben are together, their house only needing one bedroom for the two of them,Bev never questions why Eddie is just as upset about Richie’s absence as she isabout Ben’s.

Richie is due hometomorrow and Eddie is running on little sleep, patching up a scraped knee on atoddler while Mike is doing a check-up on Stan and Patty’s daughter. Eddiejolts when the door is thrown open and slams into the wall. The little girl he’dbeen patching up screams and runs, and when Eddie turns to the door he doesn’tblame her. His eyes are wide as Ben and Bill carry Richie into the building,his lower left leg covered in blood.

“Rich?” He whispers, tooquiet for anyone to hear. Mike has already sprung into motion, giving everyoneorders and setting up a table for Richie. Eddie can’t move, only stares asRichie is placed on the table and the leg of his pants is cut away.

It’s a bite.

Eddie’s hands fly up tohis mouth, trying to hold back a sob. It’s then Stan notices him and rushesover. Patty has their daughter in her arms, heading for the door.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Stansays calmly, but Eddie can see the panic in his eyes, too. They’ve been bestfriends their entire lives, the three of them. They’d survived so muchtogether.

“It’s not,” he cries. “It’sa bite, Stan!”

“Mike can amputate,” he answers.“It’s at his ankle, he can salvage a lot of the leg, I bet. Come on, let’s –let’s grab the night shift medic to come help Mike, and we’ll head to yourhouse to wait.”

Eddie lets Stan lead him,head swimming. This is what shock feels like. This is fear.

-

Mike works on Richie’s legfor seven hours. Richie takes another two to wake up. When he does, it’s the middle of the night and Eddie isthere, sitting on the floor next to the couch in their living room where Richiehas been set up. His eyes open blearily and he leans up before gasping and thenyelling out in fear.

“Hey, Rich, it’s okay,” hesays, grabbing at his shoulders, stopping him from moving too much. There’s anIV in his arm and Eddie checks to make sure it hasn’t been jostled. Richie iswide eyed, looking around nervously, glancing at the IV. Before he can ask,Eddie tells him. “You got bit on your leg. Mike had to – to amputate. But it’snot bad! Just the lower part, it’s –“

Richie is breathingheavily, shaking his head. Eddie cups his face in his hands, his own eyes tearingup.

“Please calm down,” hesays softly, looking into Richie’s eyes. “Everything’s going to be okay. Mikedid a great job and you know Ben will build you a great prosthetic –“

“My leg?” He whispers,horrified. Eddie chokes on a sob, nods his head. He pulls at the blanketcovering him and cries when his bandaged stump is revealed. “Eddie? Eddie, howam I – how can I –“

“We’ll figure it out,”Eddie promises, pulling the blanket back over the leg. He runs a hand throughRichie’s hair.

“My job is – I can’t – I can’trun, Eddie, Eds, Eddie, please, I can’t do this, I can’t –“

“Yes, you can,” he saysfirmly, taking Richie’s face in his hands until their eyes meet. He leans up tosit on the edge of the couch next to Richie’s torso. “You will find somethingnew to do once you’re healed up. You’re going to learn to run again, okay? Iknow you can.”

“Eddie, please,” he says,tears falling down his pale cheeks. “Please, I can’t. My leg.”

“I know,” Eddie murmurs,pushing their foreheads together. He runs his hands through Richie’s hair andfeels him shiver. “Are you cold?”

Richie’s quiet for amoment. “No.”

Eddie bites his lip. Hebrushes his fingers through curls again.

“Eddie, what am I supposedto do?”

Eddie closes his eyes. “Idon’t know,” he admits. “But I’ll be here with you the whole time.”

“Eds?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry,” Richiewhispers into the small space between them.

Eddie frowns. “For what?”

“I’m – I got bit. I don’thave – I can’t – I’m useless now. How am I supposed to – We protect each other,that’s what we’ve done for ten years, but I can’t – I can’t protect youanymore, Eds, you need someone –“

“Shut up,” Eddie stops him. “Shutup, okay? I don’t need anyone but you. You’re not useless, you’re the sameexact person, and I’m a medic and I’m going to take care of you. And you won’tbe scavenging anymore so you’ll be taking care of me, too.”

“What?”

“You’ll be home so I won’tbe – you know, anxious and… sleep deprived, and stuff.”

“Eddie, I can’t, I can’thelp you,” Richie says brokenly.

“I don’t care,” Eddie saysstubbornly, tears clinging to his lashes. “I don’t care what you can and can’tdo, okay? We have tons of friends to help us both. We’re not – I’m not – Richie–“

“You should move in withsomeone else,” Richie says, looking away from Eddie’s eyes. “Maybe Bill andMike’s. If something happens I can’t –“

“No,” Eddie cries, hishands finding their way to the back of Richie’s neck. He hears Richie’s breathhitch. “I’m not going to let you… devalue yourself just because you – because youlost your leg, okay? I’m not leaving, and you’re not leaving. Just you and me,okay?”

“And Stan?”

Eddie shakes his head. “No,just you and me, Richie.” He rubs his hands down the back of Richie’s neck tohis shoulders. He realizes Richie’s hand is clutching his shirt and he pressescloser. “You and me. Right?”

Richie nods slightly.Eddie hears his sharp intake of breath when their noses brush.

“Holy fuck,” Richiemumbles, awed. “What does Mike have me on?”

The words take a moment toprocess for Eddie. “What?”

“I think I’mhallucinating. Or like, what’s that dreaming thing where you control yourdreams?”

Eddie can feel each puffof breath from Richie’s lips hit his own. “Richie, what are you talking about?”

“I’m – I’m dreaming, that’sthe only time you love me back, this is –“

Eddie presses their lipstogether, tears falling down his cheeks and whimpers escaping Richie’s throat.

When their lips part,Eddie doesn’t go far.

“I always love you back,stupid,” Eddie tells him quietly.

“I still can’t take careof you,” Richie says.

“I still love you,” Eddieresponds, kissing him again. “And I’ll love you no matter what happens toeither of us.”

“Okay,” Richie whispers,leaning back into the pillow behind his head. “Will you lay with me? I’m tired.”

Eddie watches him pull apouty face, the most pathetic he can manage, and laughs softly. He climbs ontothe couch next to Richie, careful not to jostle his IV and making sure Richieis still comfortable. They wiggle around until Richie’s head is on Eddie’schest, and within minutes he’s asleep. He wipes the remnants of tears fromunder his own eyes and shifts until his own head is against the arm of thecouch. Richie mumbles in his sleep but doesn’t wake, and Eddie sighs softly. Everythingis only going to get harder, he knows it. Richie won’t be able to do his normaljob, probably won’t be able to do much of anything while recovering. So much ofthis life is being able to up and run at a moment’s notice. What are they goingto do, if Richie can’t run?

He falls into a fitfulsleep, Richie curled up next to him, and hopes he has more answers in the morning.

(He doesn’t.)

[thefandomshavebrokenme]

A Bruising Date- Bruise/Geodeshipping

Hey, everyone! This is the first Ninjago piece I've written that I've posted, and I'd love to hear what you think! Here we go!

Movie verse

Jay hummed to himself, debating whether or not to wear his scarf. Cole liked his scarf, right? For a moment, panic flared up in Jay. What if Cole hated Jay's scarf? It was a gift from his mom! Quickly, Jay shook off the thought. If Cole really hated your scarf, this would not be the first time you've thought about it, he told himself.

He decided to wear the scarf, thinking he could easily take it off if Cole really didn't like it. With that, Jay made his way to the top deck of the Bounty, exiting onto the dock and beginning the trek through the city to the park.

Jay and the other ninja had been staying aboard the ship for the past week. Master Wu had requested that they stay there in the aftermath of Meowthra.

They were going back to their parents in a couple days, but Cole had wanted to spend a day with his boyfriend before that happened.

Jay was flattered. He wanted to ask Cole out on a date, but he was too shy, the thought of it sending panic throughout him. He had managed to ask Cole out in the "will you be my boyfriend?" way, but vividly remembered how he'd burst into tears when he thought Cole had said no.

Jay shook his head to rid it of the memory. His cheeks flushed with distant embarrassment.

A metallic crash resounded, piercing Jay's thoughts.

Jay's heart began pounding, his head snapping to the source of the noise. He found himself looking into an alleyway - empty save for a couple of trashcans.

For a moment, the desire to investigate overwhelmed him. But I'll be late! Jay thought. He checked his phone. He had plenty of time! He had left the Bounty early so he wouldn't be late, a habit of his.

Jay ventured into the alley, an anxious feeling growing as he walked further back.

"Now!"

Jay yelped when something heavy suddenly landed on his back, forcing him to the ground. He did his best to wriggle out from underneath the weight pressing down on him. He had almost escaped until he looked up and a fist caught him in the face.

Jay cried out again, his face stinging from the blow. So there's two of them, he thought.

"Pick him up." A voice commanded.

The weight from his back disappeared for a moment. Almost immediately, there was a pressure on his right arm, followed by another on his left.

Jay began to fight against the holds on him, flailing wildly as he was lifted up and held in a standing position.

It was when Jay was able to look and see the two hands wrapped around both of his arms that he realized he had miscalculated the number of attackers. Three. There are three of them, Jay thought.

"Give us your money." The one giving the instructions said. His hair was shaggy and dark, framing his stubbled face. He had a knife out, pointing it threateningly at Jay. It was obvious he was the leader.

Jay looked at the man, every inch of him vibrating with panic. "I dont have any money." He said, voice small.

The leader made a tsk noise. "That's a shame. You see, around here it's pay or play." He spoke to his partners now. "I guess it's a play day, boys!"

The two holding Jay cheered. One of the hands holding him disappeared, but quickly found itself holding a knife to Jay's throat.

"So here's how it works. If you can fight us off, you leave. If you can't? Well...we might let you go eventually." The man to Jay's right laughed. "Ready? Go!"

The hands holding Jay were suddenly gone, freeing him. Before he could react however, his legs had been kicked out from beneath him. Jay fell forward, smacking his chin on the concrete.

Quickly, he rolled, grabbing one of the thug's legs and pulling. He went down with a shout, arms windmilling as he fell.

Bad idea.

The man was holding a knife, the weapon burying itself in Jay's arm as the thug fell on top of him.

Jay shouted in pain, smacking the man's arm to get him to release the knife. Eventually, he did, but by that time the other two thugs had made it to Jay.

A kick in the gut had the helpless ninja gasping, rolling onto his side and crying out as the movement forced the knife deeper into his arm.

The thug on top of him made it back to his feet, removing the knife from Jay's arm.

He hauled the teen to his feet, holding him up once again.

Blows were raining down upon Jay, fists connecting with his face, stomach, and anywhere else they could find to hit.

He did his best to break free, but couldn't. The panic and pain filling him prevented him from focusing enough to summon his lightning.

Jay kicked, his foot connecting with one of his attackers. They stumbled backward, but quickly came at him once again. Jay screamed as their knife entered his thigh.

The thug holding Jay let go, allowing him to fall to the ground. They kicked the boy while he was down, and it was then Jay realized how wet his face was from tears.

Jay wasn't sure how much time had passed as he was picked up, dropped, and used as the criminals' punching bag.

"Let's go, boys." The leader announced at last.

And then they were gone, leaving Jay alone on the pavement.

The sun had moved lower in the sky, taunting Jay with the fact he had missed his date with Cole.

Oh, FSM, Cole. Jay pushed himself to his feet, gritting his teeth against the pain. He stumbled, almost collapsing again with a sob. Cole's going to hate me! Jay thought despairingly.

After all, how could Cole not be mad at him? Jay had missed their date, and proven how worthless and weak he was. Cole was strong, he wouldn't want to be with someone who couldn't defend himself.

Jay found himself crying again, his sobs making his body ache even more. I'll call Cole! He thought. I can explain everything! Jay reached for his phone. Gone. The thugs had stolen his phone.

Jay couldn't force himself to calm down, sobbing and breath hitching the more he tried.

I have to get back to the Bounty, Jay thought. It was the only coherent thought he could come up with.

So Jay began the trek back to the ninja headquarters. It seemed longer than the walk that had led to this situation, every movement agony. Jay tuned out the gasps of any people he passed, doing his best not to flinch at the sight of alleyways.

It was nearly dark when Jay made it back to the docks. Moving as quickly as he could, Jay limped aboard the Bounty, its deck barren.

When did the world get so spinny? Jay suddenly thought.

He felt himself sway. No! Jay told himself forcefully. I have to get to Cole. I have to explain everything to him.

Jay stumbled down the stairs to the lower decks. He could hear voices coming from the kitchen.

"Do you think he went to the wrong park?" It was Kai speaking. Jay almost sobbed in relief, never in his life so happy to hear his voice.

"There's only other park in Ninjago City, Kai. And we've both agreed to never go there again after the last time." Cole refuted.

Cole. FSM, how Jay missed him. Pushing through the overwhelming pain and black spots that had suddenly began to dance in his vision, Jay stumbled to the doorway of the kitchen.

"I just don't know why he would do that, Kai." Cole admitted, his voice aching with hurt.

Jay forced himself into the kitchen, the world tilting violently before his eyes. "Cole." He gasped.

Two heads snapped in Jay's direction, both morphing their expressions from one of surprise to one of horror in seconds.

"Jay!" Cole shouted, his voice panicked.

The world went dark.

~~~

Jay was in the hospital.

Cole stared at his boyfriend's unconscious figure in the hospital cot, his eyes lingering on the bandages wrapped around his arm.

The nurses had removed his IV a little while ago, reassuring Cole that Jay would wake soon and begin to recover nicely. Cole merely nodded, his mind still in shock.

Some strange form of guilt consumed him, gripping his heart and twisting it. When Jay had missed their date, Cole hadn't even considered it could be because he was hurt. Instead, he assumed Jay had forgotten or bailed or was sick of him. Not this. Cole never wanted it to be this.

Sadness began to wash away the guilt. Jay looked so small in the bed, his face developing bruises where he had quite obviously been punched. Cole wondered how his ribs were doing. The doctor had informed him that his attackers had broken some.

Cole reached forward, lacing his fingers through Jay's limp ones. He took a deep breath, trying to slow his racing thoughts. Cole couldn't suppress the memory of Jay stumbling through the door, his face beaten, his clothes torn and dark with blood from the stab wounds. It played on repeat, Jay's voice echoing in Cole's head.

"Cole." Jay had sounded so desperate, so full of pain saying his name. "Cole." Jay was falling to the floor, his eyes rolling back as he collapsed.

"Cole?"

Cole snapped out of his thoughts, feeling a squeeze on his hand. "Jay!"

Jay stared up at Cole, his eyes beginning to fill with tears. "Cole, I'm so sorry."

Cole was confused by what Jay meant, but it was pushed aside by his concern. "Jay, don't be sorry. You're in the hospital. You're going to be okay."

Tears slipped from Jay's eyes as he nodded. "I-I missed our date." He stated simply. Cole could hear the unspoken "do you hate me?" Knowing the thought was eating at Jay.

Cole did his best to reassure him. "That's okay. The park was super busy today, anyway. We wouldn't have had fun."

Jay started to cry harder. "I made you wait for me." He tried to move his injured arm to wipe away his tears. Jay flinched violently, pain crossing his features.

Cole made a shushing noise, moving his unoccupied hand to wipe away Jay's tears for him. "I'll always wait for you, Jay. I'm just glad you're okay. Nothing else matters right now."

Jay leaned into Cole's touch, sniffling. "Okay." He breathed.

A nurse entered the room then. "Mr. Walker? You're awake, good!"

Jay nodded, his breath hitching as he breathed in deeply. Cole and Jay unwound their fingers from each other's, allowing the nurse (Jessica Peters, Cole read) to do her job.

"Everything looks good!" She informed happily. The nurse frowned a little. "Are you willing to tell me what happened? It could be very beneficial to your recovery."

Jay nodded again, trying to push himself into a sitting position. He couldn't stop the little yelp of pain that escaped when he put pressure on his injured arm. Regardless, he sat up, reassuring Cole that he was fine.

"There were...these guys." Jay started, his voice shaky. "They jumped me in an alleyway, and they just...went to town. That's really the only way to put it."

Jessica nodded. "I'm so sorry that happened to you, Mr. Walker. But you should be able to be released in a few hours, and then you can recover from home. That sounds nice, yeah?"

"Yeah."

~~~

Back on the Bounty, Jay dozed, his head leaning on Cole's shoulder as he sat in his lap. Cole ran his fingers through Jay's hair slowly, careful not to pull on the boy's tangled curls.

As he did so, Cole noticed Jay's breathing begin to increase, and a soft whimper escaped the smaller boy.

"Don't. Don't hurt me, please. Let me go!" Jay mumbled, terror in his voice.

Eyes widening, Cole shook Jay as gently as he could, trying not to touch his injured arm.

With a gasp, Jay woke up. When he realized where he was, he relaxed, turning to bury his face in Cole's neck.

"It's okay." Cole assured, resting his head on top of Jay's.

Jay sniffled in response, breath hitching.

"It's okay." Cole repeated firmly. "You're okay now. Everything's okay."

Jay nodded, listening to Cole's soothing words. "Thank you." He said at last.

Cole didn't bother responding with words, instead placing a kiss on the top of Jay's head. "I love you, Jay."

Jay flushed, still not used to hearing the words. "I love you too, Cole."

All was well.

[sohmaakito]

title: Who You Need Me To Be pairing: Akito/Tohru word count: ~2100 summary: Tohru always answers Akito's unspoken wishes, but there's one thing too important not to say.  (Feat. gender insecurity & Shigure getting dunked on.)

i.

It's a full two years after Tohru graduates that they go on their first date.  Akito keeps rolling that word- date- around in her mind, and finds she can't fathom its meaning.  What a relationship is to her, has always been, is pushing and pulling, winning and losing.  There's no room for romance on a battlefield.

But Tohru smiles at her and promises that a relationship can be like this, too.  She holds Akito's hand, and hers is so much warmer.  The date itself is a blur to Akito.  They go to the aquarium, where there are too many other couples being all lovey-dovey, but just holding Tohru's hand makes her feel so much that she wouldn't dare ask for more.

ii.

By their fifth date, Akito can tell Tohru is dying to say something. Tohru being on edge puts her on edge, and whatever Tohru is on the verge of saying haunts her.  She's going to break up with Akito, isn't she?  She regrets choosing her.  She wants to be with Kyo after all, or Momiji, or any of the other boys whose hearts she's stolen.

Akito's chest aches.  Of course Tohru would change her mind.  Even if Akito were a better person, she's still a girl, and she can't give Tohru everything she wants, not a wedding or children-

"Akito-sa- Akito," Tohru says.  It took her months to drop the "-san" and she still forgets to, sometimes.  "Do you, um..."

Akito looks down at her hands and clenches them into fists.  Here it comes.

"Do you want to wear the dress Ayame-san sent you tonight?"

Akito looks back up and blinks with wide eyes.  "...Not particularly." Ayame barged in one day, demanded her measurements, and started mailing her handmade clothes from his shop.  They're all so frilly and lacy and feminine that Akito can't wear them without feeling itchy.  "Why?"

"Because, well, I really hope this isn't rude to say, and of course I'm fine either way as long as you're comfortable," Tohru begins again, and her verbal floundering, as usual, takes a long time to get to the point.  Akito has learned to wait it out.  "I just noticed you always dress in your old clothes when we go on dates, and I thought maybe you thought I wanted that, but it doesn't matter to me what you wear.  Oh, I don't mean I don't care at all!  I like your clothes!"

She's back to scrabbling for the right words, but Akito's too stunned to help her.  She sits there and tries to process Tohru's meaning.  It keeps surprising her.  Tohru's so naive, so clueless.  An airhead, if Akito wants to be blunt about it.  And yet, when Tohru looks at people, she sees so much.  She knows what they need to hear and what they're too afraid to say.

It's clear what Tohru means by "old clothes."  Whenever they go out together, Akito dresses like a boy, like she did for so many years.  Part of it is a comfort thing.  Participating in the outside world, being with Tohru, those are two wildly unthinkable things.  It helps to have some sense of familiarity.  But more than that, she does it because it's easier to be on a date when passersby think they're like any other boy and girl.  She can even trick herself into thinking she can be what Tohru needs.

Or at least, what Akito thought she needed, but Tohru's saying the opposite, that Akito can dress however she likes and be whoever she is.

Not for the first time, Akito cries from Tohru's kindness, leaving her all the more flustered.

iii.

It happens more often than Akito wants to admit.  Old habits break harder than the curse ever did.  Something upsets her, she gets defensive, and she lashes out.  Sometimes, she catches herself and locks herself alone in their bedroom until she can calm down. Sometimes, she can't seem to stop, and she says so many awful things, and Tohru cries, and then it's Akito who's inconsolable.

"I'm sorry.  I'll be better.  I'm sorry."  Akito apologizes in a panic, afraid she's ruined everything between them, aware she's the poison her mother always tells her she is.

Each time, Tohru forgives her.  It leaves Akito feeling heavy.  The weight on her shoulders piles up so that walking is difficult and breathing feels impossible.

After one particularly bad lapse, Tohru's best friends come over.  Akito hasn't learned to like them yet.  Hana sees too deeply into her rotten core.  Uo is dating Kureno.  And she is sure they hate her in return.  Maybe Uo will make good on the anger she exudes and slap Akito.  Akito almost wants her to.

Instead, they sit down with Akito and make her explain what happened, and she does, with guilt that tastes so bitter she wants to throw up.  "I'm not... good enough for her," Akito finishes, unable to look either of them in the eye.

They each take one of her hands.  "None of us are," Hana says.

"But you better keep trying," Uo says.  "She loves you.  Do you even know how lucky that makes you?"

"Yes," Akito says, the most honest answer of her entire life.

iv.

Shigure visits when Tohru is out shopping and smiles with tight lips.  Akito waits for the barrage to begin, for him to bombard her with loving threats and threatening love, because she knows how long he's waited for her.  Once upon a time, there was nothing she wanted more than for Shigure to hold her and give his over-the-top vows of love.  Even now, a part of her wavers and wants to curl up in his arms and let him take her away, but there's a picture of Tohru on the wall behind him, and when Akito speaks, she looks at it.

"Tohru is a much better person than you," she says, throwing his words from years ago back in his face.  He pretends not to know what she means, and once he finishes his cup of tea- Akito made him boil the water himself- he leaves.

v.

Tohru says something about replacing bad memories with good ones and they go to the beach.  After lengthy deliberation, Akito wears a sundress. It's one Tohru helped her pick out, not one of Ayame's absurd gifts. She wears a hat, too, and Tohru helps her put on plenty of sunscreen, because her pale skin burns so quickly.

They walk alongside the water, the swell of the tide brushing back and forth over their feet, and Akito feels bold enough to take her hand this time, instead of waiting for Tohru to take hers.  They walk past games of frisbee and sunbathers, familes building sandcastles and volleyball nets being set up.  It's loud and populated and Akito never likes such places, but if she focuses on Tohru, she's fine.  Happy, even.

Later, she sits on a towel and watches Tohru splash around in the water.  She wore a swimsuit under her clothes so she could.  Akito, on the other hand, has no intention of wearing a swimsuit in public, but she finds she likes seeing Tohru in hers, simple and modest as it is.  She doesn't understand where these feelings come from.  She's used to wanting men.  Now she wants Tohru and Tohru alone.

She used to drag people to bed with her before either of them were ready, but she can't do that with Tohru.  She won't.  They've never done more than hold hands, and it's been six months and Akito's getting impatient, but if she asks for too much and pushes Tohru away for good, she'll crumble.

vi.

"Do you love me?"

"Of course!"

"Say it."

"I love you, Akito."

It should make her happy, but instead she feels empty.  She wants to ask again, have Tohru repeat the words over and over until maybe she can believe them.  But she just turns away and tries to swallow down her greediness, her insecurity.

"Oh, that reminds me."

Akito hears Tohru move across the room and rummage through a drawer.  Curiosity gets the better of her and she turns back around.  Tohru locates a small bundle wrapped in tissue paper and holds it up triumphantly.  When she notices Akito watching, she hides it behind her back.  "I have a present for you."

"A present?" Akito tilts her head.  She likes presents, but there's never been much for her to ask for, materialistically.  Anything she wants is given to her, thanks to her family's wealth and her position.

"I don't know anything about this sort of thing," Tohru admits, "but Ayame-san recommended a good place, and the people there were so nice, and they gave me a discount when I said I was going to give it to my partner." After that introduction, she finally passes the bundle to Akito. Akito tears open the paper to find a thin silver bracelet with two beads on it.  One is engraved with the initial "T."  The other, an "A."

"We can't always be sie by side," Tohru says.  "So I thought you might like to wear this.  That way, it's kind of like we're always together, isn't it?"

A bit of pretty metal is hardly a replacement for Tohru's presence, but Akito understands the meaning of the gift and that once again, Tohru has read her feelings perfectly.  She lets Tohru clasp it around her wrist and from that day on, she doesn't take it off, not once.

vii.

On their one-year anniversary, a day Akito can't believe she made it to, they go to a Sohma-owned lodge up in the snowy mountains, where the air is so pure that breathing almost burns.  Aside from the servants that accompany them, they're basically alone.  The lodges in the mountains are all spread out, and it's quiet.  Few animals live in such a cold area, and Akito enjoys not being able to hear the chirping of birds, a simple thing that always calls her back to the past, a place she can't afford to live.

Tohru beams at the scenery from the balcony, even though she's rubbing her arms, her clothes too thin.  Akito makes a note to send a servant to buy a warmer coat for her.  "It's so beautiful here!  Thanks for bringing me, Akito-sa- Akito."

"It's all I can do for you."  Akito leans against the railing next to her.  "I can buy you things and take you places.  That's all."

"Oh, that's not true! I like being with you, wherever we are.  And you don't have to buy me anything, you know."

Akito does know.  She also knows it's an inexplicable attitude.  She never had to worry about Shigure or Kureno or any other Sohma wanting to be with her because of her family's money, but it's reasonable to think an outsider might.  But Tohru isn't like that.  She still works hard every day, even though she could lay around and do nothing and still be taken care of.  It's obvious such a thought has never even crossed her mind.

Normally, Akito lets Tohru dominate the conversation.  It isn't that Tohru isn't a good listener, because she is, probably the best one Akito's ever met. But Akito isn't much of a talker as long as she hasn't been hit with one of her spells of rage, which hasn't happened in some time now. But that day, she has something she wants to say.  It's already been a year and she hasn't said it once, afraid for it to be true, afraid to feel it, but it is and she does.  She inhales deeply, gathering strength from the crisp air, and looks at Tohru.

"I... love you, too."

Tohru blinks a couple of times, and then her cheeks blush an adorable and natural pink.  She looks... fulfilled.  Like she's been reading the newspaper every day for a year and finally they printed the article she was waiting for.

Akito moves forward like she's in a trance and gently cups Tohru's face to kiss her.  It's the most chaste kiss of her life and also the warmest, despite the snow flurrying around them.  Tohru seems not to know what to do with her hands, putting them on Akito's shoulders, then her hips, then finally around her neck.  Akito keeps her eyes closed and melts into Tohru.

So this, she thinks, is how it feels to choose love.

[metaphoricallyroger]

With Love, From Me to You - iv of iv [R.T.]

Summary: One-hundred ways to say ‘I love you’ over twenty-eight years.

Words: 3,265

Warnings: Implied smut. Language. Baby blues and pregnancy difficulties (at 77. 85.). Talk of illness and death (at 96. 98.).

Note: This follows both Bohemian Rhapsody’s and real-life events (generally for dates, minor plot etc.), picture whichever Roger you fancy! The title is taken from ‘From Me To You’ by The Beatles.

--

76. (1984):

“Can you believe he’s going to do this solo project? What a joke! Told me all I’d be is some dentist, too! As if I’d have ever done that.”

“Roger.” Heavily pregnant, listening to Roger screech about band problems, although extremely valid, isn’t at the top of your priorities at the moment.

“Four million dollars! I can’t believe it!”

“Roger,” you interrupt, louder now, “I’ve been having contractions since you left for the meeting. Could we please go to the hospital now?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were having contractions?”

“Because you were too busy yelling to listen properly!” You breathe in and out deeply to calm your heart rate.

“I’ll drive you to the hospital.” He bends at the waist to help you up, which you ignore. Just because you’re going into labour doesn’t mean you’ve suddenly become incapable of caring for yourself.

“Who else would I want to drive me?” Despite feeling nauseous and racked with pain, you smile at your husband as you walk out the door.

--

77. (1984):

“Are you okay?”

“What?” You snap out of the daze you have been in, staring blankly at the artwork above Robin’s cot.

“You’re crying, love.”

“I am? I didn’t- I didn’t realise that I was.” You wipe at your cheek and hot tears follow.

“What’s wrong? You can tell me, I’ll try to help,” he offers.

“She doesn’t want to breastfeed and my arms are getting so tired trying to hold her up, I can’t do this. It’s too hard this time around.” You whimper and more tears fall, landing on the baby’s head.

“Can I take her for a moment? I’ll be right back.”

You pass the four-day-old over and he disappears out of the room, returning with a pillow from your bed. He sits next to you and puts the pillow on your lap and transfers Robin back to you.

“Rest her on the pillow, and I’ll support her neck, okay?” You make a noise of agreement and move your arm for Roger’s which quickly replaces yours.

“There, she can take all the time she wants to feed, I’ve got her. Now, you get your udder out.” You know he’s trying to make you laugh, and it does with a sniffle.

--

78. (1984):

“Did you know it’s been ten years to the date that we first kissed?” Robin lies against your chest, having her morning feed, beginning to daze as she has her fill of milk.

“You remember when our first kiss was?” Roger looks up where he sits with the three-year-old Zoe on his lap, who he is letting poke her fingers anywhere she likes, including up his nose on accident.

“Of course, don’t you?”

“I could never forget you making the first move, love.” He shifts in bed, careful not to jostle the now dozing baby and steals the first kiss of the next decade of your lives.

--

79. (1985):

For the first time in years, Roger had returned from a meeting with Miami in a fit. He’d left happy this morning, but you presume something had gone amiss during the meeting with Brian and John.

“I can’t believe he’d be that much of a coward to set up a meeting through Miami.”

“He’s your family, Roger. Besides, weren’t you telling me you haven’t spoken to him nor would pending Armageddon?” You watch him pace back and forth like a trapped zoo animal, a lion if you’re being specific.

“What the hell do you think he wants?” He ignores your quip.

“Maybe he wants to be a part of the band again. Or maybe he just wants to talk, apologise.”

“That’d be bloody right. What, he finally got sick of Prenter and his club songs? Finally decided we’re worth something to him?” His voice seems to gain an octave with every syllable.

“Hey,” you call, “don’t get angry at me. I’m team Roger. Always.”

“I’m sorry,” he collapses on the settee in the corner of the room.

“You don’t have to accept his apology. But at least hear him out. Maybe you could be the bigger person?”

His hand comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache forming.

“I hate that you’re always right.”

--

80. (1985):

“How was rehearsal?” You know it can’t have gone too well considering Roger went straight to the fridge for a beer without saying hello to any members of the household.

He bites his lip and his nostrils flare, making your eyebrows crease. His tone is solemn as he begins to speak.

“I really need to tell you something, but it’s about someone else and I got told I couldn’t tell anyone.”

You take Roger at his word and don’t require him to tell you. Something about this conversation has an overtone of loyalty, loyalty to whom, you aren’t sure. There is a small crease between his brows and he just looks sad.

“You don’t need to tell me. If it involves me, yes, I would prefer that you tell me, but if the person doesn’t want anything told, I won’t ask.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” His hands curve around your hips as he takes another sip of beer and you rest your head on his chest, listening to the percussive beating of his heart.

--

81. (1985):

The band have been working hard (harder than you’ve seen in recent years) in the days leading up to Live Aid. You know that the practise and days of only see Roger at bedtime are going to be worth it.

Roger crouches in front of Zoe after having put earmuffs on Robin who is testing her balance on your shoulders. The earmuffs go over her blonde waves and he holds them away from her ears so she can still hear him.

“These are so you don’t lose any hearing in your young age and your mother doesn’t divorce me.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Zoe giggles, not comprehending what Roger’s saying.

The size of the earmuffs on the four and one-year-old is almost comical.

“You’re an excellent dad.” You kiss his cheek tenderly.

You turn back to wave at him as you make your way to the side of the stage and can’t help the proud welling of your eyes as Queen takes to the stage.

--

82. (1986):

The rain that has tapped resoundingly against the windows and dampened the sound of the city has finally eased. Roger lifts his head to nibble at the crease between thigh and hip.

“Oh, look, the suns out again,” you say, sweaty and joyously. You rest your hand on your stomach and look down at the man between your legs.

You run your knuckles along Roger’s cheeks, your fingertips gliding over blonde brows.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Nope, you look good in that spot,” you return your hands back to the sheet whilst Roger’s head returns to its previous position.

--

83. (1986):

The party after Queen’s sold out Wembley shows is crowded with many people, most of whom you haven’t seen before, friends of friends of friends.

You sit in Roger’s lap, where he rattles the ice in the bottom of his now empty glass. You feel him shift under you as if to move you, but he yawns instead.

“Tired?”

“Mhm. It’s been a long day,” he sighs into your shoulder, flexing his fingers around your waist.

“Let me get you a drink,” you take the glass from his hand and stand up.

--

84. (1986):

“All the numbers you could possibly need are on the fridge,” you remind Roger as you move through the house, bags in hand.

“Don’t you worry about us,” Roger places a calming hand to your bicep, “we’ll have a right good time, won’t we girls?” The two angels look innocently up at Roger and nod.

“They’ve never been without me before.”

“You don’t trust me to look after my own children?” You ache to sooth the downturned lips of Roger’s.

“No, I do, you’re the only person I trust with them more than me. I’m just anxious.”

“Try not to worry about us, okay? I’ve got this. Go sort everything out with your parents.” His calming tone aids you in alleviating some of the panic you were feeling about leaving your kids alone for the first time.

“Okay,” you sigh, “okay.”

“Say goodbye to Mama, kids.” They both give you a hug and a kiss that you don’t want to let go of, but you do, if only to move onto Roger and cling even harder.

--

85. (1987):

“Why isn’t this happening?” Your tears drench your face as you sit, fully clothed, in a scalding hot bath.

Roger had tried to get you to take off your clothes but you ignored him, wanting to feel the weight of sopping clothing, forcing yourself to stay upright in the bath so you don’t sink below the water. It would be easy to do, at least your hair would be clean.

“We’ll just have to give it time,” he whispers into your hair, pressing butterfly kisses over the crown of your head.

You want to have another child with Roger. Having Zoe and Robin was easy, you feel as if your luck has now run out, and you ache with a fire you’ve never felt before.  

--

86. (1987):

The restaurant Roger has booked a reservation at is fancy and bright, doing much to boost your mood after the past emotionally draining months you’ve experienced.

“After you,” Roger opens the door to the restaurant and guides you inside with a hand on your lower back.

--

87. (1988):

“How are you so calm?” You’re sitting on your hospital bed, going through the motions of contractions while watching your husband pace wall to wall in the private room.

“Done this twice before, remember?”

You clamber off the bed and pace with Roger, hands intertwined, as it helps you to feel like your labour is progressing rather than sitting, which feels like watching paint dry.

It’s Roger that cries this time when the midwife announces that the baby’s a boy, and it’s the sight of him holding his son, still sticky with newness, with such a look of awe that makes your own emotions bubble over.

--

88. (1988):

“Now, you have to be really quiet because he’s going to be asleep, okay?” Zoe puts her pointer finger to her lips and Robin follows, enjoying mimicking her sister.

Roger glances down at the girls and leads them to the living room where you sit with Henry in his baby capsule.

“Can I pet him?” Robin looks to you as she asks and you nod.

“Yes you can,” Roger laughs, “gentle, he’s still little.” He guides Robin’s hand, still too young to truly understand what Roger is saying. He helps her brush her hand across the soft skin of Henry’s forehead while Zoe waits her turn.

You sit back and watch the interactions with a soft smile.

--

89. (1988):

“Could you leave my shirt on?” You wonder, tilting your head back, trying to keep tears from spilling.

“What?”

Roger sits up on his knees between your bent legs, looking over your face with concern.

“I don’t feel comfortable naked any- anymore. I don’t look l-like I did at twenty-five,” you stammer.

“Hey,” he whispers, “This body has been a home for three beautiful children. This body has done amazing things that continuously leaves me in awe. I didn’t fall for you because of your body, I fell for you because of your heart and your mind, which hasn’t changed. I feel like you were a gift, made for me.” At every pause, a kiss is placed over your body, your fluttering eyes, nervous fingers, soft earlobes.

Tears, this time of happiness slowly spill from your eyes as you allow him to remove your shirt.

--

90. (1989):

Roger didn’t imagine his fortieth birthday beginning with the shape of your head moving up and down underneath the bed covers to be interrupted. But life, as it would seem, always has other plans.

“Mum! Henry spilt juice all over the kitchen table!”

“Can’t you clean it up yourself?” Roger hollers to your eldest. You pull back when you hear a crash and a wail that interrupts the once tranquil space.

“Sorry, rain check?”

“We had three too many children,” he huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, you say that, but you enjoy it.”

“That I do.” The skin around his eyes crinkles when he grins, showing age but they have that same shine, looking just as young as when you first met.

--

91. (1989):

The obligatory first day of school photos was taken, except this time, Roger was home to be included in them. He made you take about a hundred of them with both girls, singly and in a group. Your favourite one of the day, which will be framed, is a picture of Roger holding both girls up, backpacks too large on and kissing his cheek. His grin is so wide you momentarily think it will split his face.

“Daddy, will you walk me to my class?”

“Of course, Bubs.” Roger changes his pace so that it is slower than Robin’s, and you don’t say anything. There’s still plenty of time to get to class after you dropped Zoe off to her own classroom.

“Daddy are you sad?” Robin’s blue eyes look up at Roger whose matching one’s look back at her.

“No, I’m not, darling.” Once you all make it to the classroom, Robin runs off without a glance back once she gives a hug and a kiss to both of you.

You make it back to the car, relatively in control of your own emotions, but Roger, you aren’t so sure. He keeps mumbling under his breath about

“Don’t go getting sappy on me now, Taylor.”

“She’s so cute in her little uniform though. Her shoes still aren’t bigger than my hand, how is she old enough for school?” You watch him push his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose to cover his watering eyes.

“Want a hug?”

“Yes please.”

--

92. (1989):

You hear the clatter of the hammer against the floor and many specific expletives which makes you grin, but you remain on the lounge, waiting for Roger to make his way to you.

“I just smashed my thumb and busted it,” Roger stomps into the room and heads towards the bathroom.

“Hold on, I’ll kiss it better.”

--

93. (1990):

“Do I need a tie?” Roger looks at you from where he’s stood in front of the cupboard, trying to decide, last minute, of course, what he should wear.

“Yes, you need a tie, you’re getting an award, Roger.”

“Which one?” He holds up two ties, a blue and a black.

“The black one,” you point, sitting with Henry on the floor who’s playing with blocks.

“Does this look good?” Roger turns around from the full-length mirror and your eyes grow wide.

You swallow roughly, squeezing down the ball of lust in your throat.

“Brings out your blue eyes, pretty boy.”

--

94. (1990):

“How’s Montreux?”

“It’s really beautiful here. I wish you could all be here too.” Despite the joy in Roger’s tone, you can tell there is a hidden sadness behind it.

“I wish we could too. But you know the kids have school otherwise I’d be there at the drop of a hat.”

“I miss you.” Your own heart clenches as you hear him take a shaky breath.

“I miss you.”

--

95. (1990):

Roger hasn’t picked you up in what feels like years, but he does today. Your legs wrap familiarly around his waist and your hand goes up to run through his hair. It’s tender and cozy, and he still smells the same, like home.

“I missed you,” you whisper against his mouth.

“I missed you more,” he breathes, connecting his lips with yours.

--

96. (1991):

The brightness of the albicant lighting from the bathroom wakes Roger despite the door being half-closed. He glances to the side, checking the clock, and noting the early hour and the still dark house. He pulls himself out of the warm bed and rubs his eyes.

“You okay?” He stumbles into the bathroom where you’re ridding Henry of his pyjamas after he’s been sick all over himself.

“Just let me get him cleaned up. Go back to bed. I’ll be there once I’ve changed his sheets and mopped the floor.”

You don’t want to bother Roger. You’ve never seen him so physically or emotionally drained and the fine lines that have appeared seem to have taken permanent residence on his face this year.

“No, no, I’ll do it for you,” Roger presses a kiss to his miserable, green looking son's forehead and then yours before exiting the room to find cleaning products.

--

97. (1991):

“Take a deep breath.”

The paparazzi and journalists have been camped out in front of Garden Lodge for what seems like forever, and have taken it upon themselves to slander every movement from those coming and going.

It aggravated everyone that had any contact with the people behind the garden walls and often sent Roger spiralling into a rage that ended with smashed glasses and broken cigarettes he no longer smoked.

“How the fuck is that going to calm me down?”

“It might. Just try it, Roger.” You both get out of the car and you grab onto his clammy hand, giving him a pointed, yet reassuring look.

Together you make your way through the swarm of locusts and keep your eyes trained to the floor, ignoring any allegations thrown at you. You both seem to release a sigh of relief once you make it behind the green door, it symbolising something akin to a boundary between worlds.

--

98. (1991):

You add the cards and the flowers to Roger’s surprise whilst your two oldest kids run around with their homemade presents, putting them into place. The pancakes border on barely cooked and burnt, which in turn makes them odd shaped, but you know Roger will appreciate it, especially because your babies helped make them. You also made your own batch of pancakes just in case which are cooked for everyone else to eat, but that is beside the point.

“What is going on in here?” Roger walks into the room, bleary-eyed and warm with sleep.

“Hey! Turn around, this is supposed to be a surprise!”

“Did you make this all for me?” He stares at the thoughtful display despite your warning.

“Happy Father’s Day. You always surprise me, but it’s your turn. You’re important in this family too.” You press a kiss to his cheek and pull out his chair for him.

--

99. (1991):

You aren’t used to having the weight of an awake Roger on your lap. You run your hand through his hair and gently tug every time you come to the blonde ends.

One of his hands grips yours tightly, resting against his hip with nails creating moon-like imprints on your knuckles. If your lashes weren’t already damp, the sharp feeling would have brought tears to your eyes.

“It’s okay to cry.”

Roger stubbornly shakes his head, eyes swollen and red, waiting for the break. The ticking of the clock in the living room creates a metronome that seems to count down to when he will allow himself one moment of respite.

“Yes it is, baby, it is completely okay to. You don’t have to be strong for anyone.”

With a whimper, he turns himself around and buries his face in your stomach, and icy heat spreads with the tears he finally releases.

--

100. (1992):

“I love you.” You whisper in Roger’s ear, standing side by side.

You get a squeeze on the hand in response so gentle you almost miss it.

--

A/N: So that’s it! I hope you all enjoyed? Thank you for taking the time to read these four parts and all of the likes, reblogs and comments, they’re very appreciated. If you ever want to request an imagine, feel free to send an ask or message me, I’d love to chat! See you all next time …

[elisajdb]

Just the Two of Us: IV

GoChi Week 2019 - @gochi-week

GoChi Day (3/28)

Characters: Goku and Chichi 

Prompt:  Soulmates 

Title: Soulmates

AN: Slightly stronger T rating for this one. 

Goku knew this day would happen. He didn’t know when but he knew it would happen. He only had to wait. He didn’t know it would be seven years but it was here and he only had one day. It will have to count. When he thought of seeing Gohan and Chichi again, in his mind, he expected them to look the same. He knew he shouldn’t think that. After seven years, Gohan will have grown and he certainly did! Gohan had an inch or two over him in height. Chichi looked as pretty as he always saw her.

 Then there was Goten.

 He never thought when he died, when he left his family, Chichi was pregnant. He wasn’t sure he would’ve made the same decision to not return if he’d known about Goten. He had doubts about his decision. Seeing Gohan so tall made Goku realize how much he missed. He didn’t see his oldest son grow up. With Goten, he missed everything. All the firsts: steps, words, laughs and cries; he missed it all.

 Chichi had to burden all that alone. He knew how difficult it was for Chichi when she was in labor with Gohan. Did she go through the same thing with Goten? How difficult was it for her to care for Goten when he was a baby? Sure, Chichi had Gohan but Goku remembered how difficult it was during those first months with Gohan and adjusting their schedule. Maybe things were different. Chichi knew more now than then, and having raised Gohan, Chichi knew how to deal with a second baby that’s half Saiyan.

 “We have twenty minutes before we have to join the other competitors,” Gohan said. “Goten and I will wait with the others while you and Dad have a moment to talk.”

 Talk? Goku panicked. There was so much to say. Would twenty minutes be enough? What would Chichi say? He ran away from her when he couldn’t promise Gohan wouldn’t fight Cell. She could be angry that’s the last memory he left with for seven years. She could be angry with him for not contacting her after he died. He said goodbye to everyone on Kami’s Temple. Everyone except his wife. He left it to Gohan to break the news to Chichi. It had to be him. After the whole Raditz ordeal, Goku didn’t trust his friends to tell Chichi anything. Perhaps he should’ve tried harder giving Chichi a proper goodbye.

“Daddy,” Goten called to Goku. “Aren’t you gonna put me down?”

 What if Chichi was angry with him leaving her pregnant? Goten looked like him. Was Chichi tortured by his twin staring at her, day after day, year after year? Did that torture turn to anger and resentment?

 “Daddy,” Goten waved his hand in front of Goku’s face. “Did you hear me?”

 Since meeting Goten, Goku held Goten in his arms. He never let him go even while Gohan led the family to a private spot to talk.

 “Sorry….. Goten.” He lowered Goten to his feet. He had to get used to that name. The irony. Seven years and he’s learning the name of his second child. Goten ran to his brother and walked off with him leaving Goku and Chichi alone. Goku stared at his departing sons until they turned a corner and were no longer in view. One day. Twenty-four hours. Will he have enough time?

 I don’t wanna go back.

 “It’s nice to see you, Goku,” Chichi said after a long silence. Goku turned to face Chichi. She held her hands crossed over the other in front of her. She kept a respectful distance from him. Goku noticed as his family came to this spot, Gohan walked closed to him but Chichi didn’t. Was she really angry with him? “You haven’t changed. I guess….” she laughed mirthlessly, “that’s what happens when you’re dead.”

 “You haven’t either.” His eyes did a quick sweep over Chichi. “You’re still the same.”

 For several moments, both stared at each other. After seven years, what could they say? He would leave it to Chichi to speak. After leaving and letting her go through pregnancy and raising their second child alone, he wanted her to do the speaking. She probably had a lot to say. He needed to give her that. He owed it to her.

 Bravely, Chichi took a step toward him. She touched his face and her eyes immediately watered. “Warm. I wasn’t sure how you would feel. Since you’re dead, I thought your body would be cold. I’m glad it’s not.” Her fingers traveled to his hair, gently touching his dark locks. Goku’s eyes closed. He recalled Chichi doing this to him during a break at the 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament. Back then, they were so young and innocent. They had no idea how their lives will be turned upside in a few years; how he will die twice, how his alien past, the psychological and physical changes he will undergo will rock their relationship to its core. They’ve changed so much since then.

 Especially, Chichi. He put her through so much. Sometimes even he wondered how she stayed with him after all these years. Even now, it was clear Chichi hadn’t moved on as friends he made in the afterlife warned him. All these years Chichi remained faithful.

 Goku cupped her face. A tear fell from her eye and dropped on his thumb. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “For everything.”

 Chichi pulled away and wiped her eyes. “Um, how are things in the afterlife? I imagine you’ve met a lot of people.” Her lips were turned up in a smile but her eyes were dull. “I bet you made a lot friends. Tell me about them.”

 She was holding back and avoiding the elephant in the room. Goku didn’t want that. He wanted Chichi to say what was on her mind and how she really feels about his absence. This was her only chance. When he left, it will be for good and Goku knew Chichi will later regret not saying anything.

 “I saw your reaction to the news of my death. You collapsed on the floor.” Chichi’s eyes grew wide at his confession. “I’m sorry for not contacting you when I died. I wanted to but King Kai said I couldn’t. It was breaking the rules but he allowed me to talk to Gohan to help him defeat Cell since the universe was at stake.”

 “And on Kami’s Temple?” her voice was emotionless. “There was no fight then.”

 He could hear the underlying anger in those last words. “I was only allowed because I had to tell everyone I didn’t wanna be wished back. I begged King Kai to let me talk to you but he wouldn’t. He said, ‘If I give in and did this for you now, you’ll bother me every time you want to check in on your family.’”

 Chichi reacted with silence and a long stare until…. “Well,” Chichi wryly agreed, “you would’ve.”

 “Yeah,” Goku forced a laugh. “I guess King Kai made the right decision on that.”

 Silence fell between them again. Goku didn’t know what to say and Chichi….. “We shouldn’t have this conversation,” Chichi told him. “You’re only here for twenty-four hours. What’s done is done. We can’t change what happened. We should focus on the time we have left and make happy memories for Goten and Gohan.”

 What about happy memories for you, Chichi?

 No. What Chichi wanted wasn’t enough for Goku. Goku didn’t like this unsettled tension hanging between them. “I won’t be happy if I left and you didn’t get a chance to say what you’ve kept inside all these years.” Goku reached out to hug Chichi but she stepped away before he could touch her. Her rejection felt like a crippling punch to his stomach. “I screwed up that badly, haven’t I? You hate me.”

 Again there was silence. If his heart could beat, it would be threatening to burst from his chest. “No. It’s…. I do wanna touch you.” With less than twenty-four hours, Chichi wasn’t going to draw this out. “If I let you put your arms around me, I’ll remember how it feels. I’m trying my best to not feel too much. If I touch you that way, it’ll be even harder on me after you’re gone.”

 “Oh.” At least she didn’t hate him but her words were painful to hear. Still, if that’s what Chichi wanted…..

 “Your decision wasn’t easy for me to handle,” Chichi spoke quietly. “I broke down. It was one thing having to wait a year for you but to know you wouldn’t come back…. that crushed my soul. I was in a dark spot for a while. I felt my soul was gone. I didn’t let Gohan see how much your death broke me. I cooked and cleaned. I even conjured up a yell every once in a while to make Gohan think I was fine but I was not. I was empty. It was only discovering I was pregnant with Goten that I begin to feel life in my soul again. He pulled me out of my dark place, Goku. When he was born and I held him for the first time, I saw you. I thought you came back to me. I noticed the effect Goten had on Gohan; on everyone. It was as if you came back to all of us.”

 “So,” he mulled over her words, “with Goten…….”

 “I began to heal. Not completely,” she admitted. “I don’t think my soul will be completely heal until I join you in the afterlife. You are my soulmate after all.”

 What Chichi confessed was very heavy to hear but he needed to hear it; Chichi needed to say it. “I’m sorry I put you through a rough time but I’m glad you’re better.” Above all else, he wanted Chichi happy. “I didn’t know about Goten.” He wanted her to know that. “If I had known…..

 “You still had a son that needed you.”

 “Not as much anymore,” Goku murmured. “I know my decision to stay dead was gonna be hard on you and Gohan, but I thought it was the best thing for you. I thought returning would be selfish. If I’m alive, then you and Gohan would be in danger of another threat. Maybe it will be a year from now. Maybe three or five years but it will happen.”

 Chichi shook her head, trying to make sense of Goku’s words. “Why would you think this?”

 “When I was a kid, Bulma once told me bad things seem to follow me wherever I go. I didn’t care and I didn’t believe her but when I discovered the creation of the Artificial Humans was a grudge against me by Dr. Gero; when I saw his hatred for me brought the world on the brink of destruction by Cell, I finally believed her.”

 “That’s ridiculous!” Chichi was outraged. How could he think that about himself? “You’re not a threat to our safety. This trouble that Bulma claimed about you led to a more peaceful world. You defeated the Red Ribbon Army. Not even King Furry’s army could stop them but you did. Do you know how many lives have been saved because you stopped the Red Ribbon Army? King Piccolo,” Chichi brought up. “You were not the one who freed him from his prison but you saved us. Do you know what a wasteland this planet would’ve been if you hadn’t stopped him? None of us, including our children, would be here if not for you.”

 Chichi’s defense for his childhood battles were valid. He wondered about his adulthood. “My brother came for me. He took Gohan. I died, everyone else died and an entire city was destroyed when I couldn’t make it back in time.”

 It was true the ending of the battle vs Vegeta and Nappa was bittersweet. “People died. That’s horrible but it would have been worse if you hadn’t shown up. No one on this planet would be here if not for you. You also saved the lives of many galaxies because you overthrew Freeza. Your mistake was not finishing him off,” Chichi admitted that flaw of Goku’s, “but you do have a knack for making friends out of enemies: Yamcha, Tien, Piccolo and even Vegeta. You changed so many lives for the better by being you.”

 Goku never considered that. All he could think leading to the Cell Games, everything was his fault. If he survived the battle against Cell, he knew it was a matter of time before another threat came. If he died, there will be peace at last for his family and Earth. Now he saw the mistake in his thinking. “You always know what to say, Chichi. Maybe I should’ve told you about this.”

 “You’re damn right you should’ve!” Chichi cupped his face. “You listen to me and you listen good. You are not a threat to our safety. Never have been. Never will be.” Startling him and herself, Chichi pulled his face to hers and kissed him. In it, she poured all her love for him. When she parted from the kiss, she was breathless. She pressed his forehead against hers. “My poor Goku. You’re always sacrificing your feelings, your wants and desires for us. It’s not fair. You gave up everything for us. I had my father, Gohan and Goten and you didn’t have anyone.” Chichi wrapped her arms around his neck. She held him close. “Oh, Goku. I hate you suffered alone.”

 Chichi’s words were soothing to his soul. He didn’t realize how much he needed to hear. However, there was something else more important that happened that warmed his soul.

 “You kissed me.” Goku was amazed. “You’re hugging me.” His arms wrapped around Chichi’s body. He needed this. He needed her. “I didn’t think you would touch me like this again.”

 She didn’t think she would either but this talk told her she was wrong on that matter. “You need this.” She kissed him. “And I need this, too.” She kissed him again. This time, Goku returned the kiss. Chichi’s mouth parted under his command and he slipped his tongue inside. It was seven years but he hadn’t forgotten this skill they learned together when they were so young and innocent. With a hand on her back, Goku molded Chichi to his body; felt her clothed breasts rubbed against his clothed chest. A hand gripped her backside and pressed her further against him. His ears flamed. Chichi wasn’t the only one moaning!

 This longing, this craving consumed them both. Chichi could feel her body reacting. She could feel Goku’s hardening body rubbed against hers. She could feel the moisture forming between her legs. Instead of squelching these feelings; instead of comparting her emotions, Chichi welcomed them. After seven years, a part of her she kept dormant, came alive. She’ll mourn later but she needed this today.

 Chichi broke the kiss but her hands remained on his face and in his hair. “I need you.” Her breathing was ragged. Her gaze met his. The need in his eyes. She hadn’t seen such a look in seven years; not since the night before the Cell Games; the night she knew Goten was conceived. She wanted him now but knew they had to wait. “I can’t wait for tonight.”

 “No,” Goku shook his head. “Not tonight. We ain’t waitin’ for tonight. We’re doing this now.”

 Chichi eyes blinked baffled. “What? We have to get back.” The entire twenty minutes weren’t over but they needed to return to the others. Goku took her hand and pulled her further down the corridor. “Someone could see us. We don’t have time.”

 “We’ve been here a while with Gohan and Goten and no one’s come this way.” He pushed Chichi against the brick wall. “I smell you. It won’t take long to get you ready.”

 Goku pressed his mouth against Chichi’s. They kissed as if they were starving and needed each other for substance. As she challenged Goku’s mouth for dominance, his hands were fast at work. She felt her purple obi come loose, her yellow cheongsam opened and bra pushed over her breasts in seconds.

 “Ah!” Chichi gasped feeling Goku suckled a breast while a hand disappeared in her turquoise pants. “Mmm!” she bit her lower lips so she wouldn’t scream so loud. Her cheeks were flushed as she panted at the rapid succession of Goku’s hand between her legs. She moved her hand to free Goku’s obi. She meant to slip her hand down Goku’s pants to return some of the pleasure treatment he was giving her. Instead, Goku grabbed her hand and slapped it against the wall while his mouth bit down on the nipple of her other breast and suckled deeply.

 Her breasts heaved, her breath came in heavy pants and her eyes nearly rolled back. This was in a public setting where they could be caught. Instead of being scared, Chichi was thrilled and her body pulsed with hot desire and excitement.  Chichi felt her pants slide further down her thighs and her open legs suddenly lift off the ground. Chichi bit Goku’s clothed shoulder as she felt Goku enter her.

 Goku groaned in Chichi’s neck as her tight and warm body wrapped around him. “You’re so tight.”

Chichi’s eyes were shut as she welcomed the intensity of Goku’s thrusting. Time was short so he smacked his body against hers rapidly. Her hands gripped his body, her lips bit into his neck to keep her screaming at bay at the quick pounding until she convulsed around him.

 She winced feeling Goku bite down on her neck as he pulsed in her. Goku’s hold on her relaxed. Chichi felt her legs touched the ground again. Goku’s face still buried in her neck but his teeth no longer pierced her skin. Instead, his heavy breathing fanned it.

 They held each other for several moments as their bodies relaxed from the quick, intense sex. “We need to head back,” Chichi told him. It was the last thing she wanted but she knew the others will come for them reminding her and Goku the competitors had to enter the tournament. Someone could come down the corridor now and see their state of undress. “Come on, Goku.” Chichi gently pushed Goku away. “We need to get dressed.”

 Wordlessly, Goku released her. Chichi adjusted her clothes, pushing her bra down, pulling up her pants and fastening her Cheongsam. She winced feeling the added moisture between her legs. She’ll have to excuse herself to the restroom when they get back. Saiyans she thought with a blush. She forgot about that.

 Chichi noticed Goku pulled his pants up but stared motionless at the ground. Chichi didn’t understand Goku’s behavior. She picked up his obi, tucked his shirt in his pants and secured his obi around his waist. Goku remained silent as Chichi finished dressing him.

 “Goku,” she tugged his hand. “We have to go back.”

 “I don’t wanna go back.”

 Chichi tried to decipher what he meant. “If you don’t want to compete, that’s fine.” In fact, Chichi hoped for this. She wanted her family to spend as much time together as possible. She didn’t want Goku sacrificing a few hours competing. They could use that prize money but she’ll find another way to deal with the family’s finances. “You, Gohan, Goten and I can go back to our home on Mount Paouz. I have a wonderful meal waiting for us. If you need to fight, you can do it with our sons.”

 “No.” Goku shook his head. “I don’t wanna go back to the afterlife. I wanna stay here. I wanna catch up with Gohan. I wanna get to know Goten. I’ll even get that job you wanted to me to get if I can stay.”

 Chichi wished she could grant Goku’s wish. She wanted to remove the ache in his heart. She couldn’t do either but she could try easing the pain. Chichi brought Goku’s head down so his forehead pressed against hers again. “I want that, too. More than anything I want that but we have to deal with the hand life gave us. You have to go back to the afterlife. You’ll miss us but you’ll be happy with your friends there. We’ll miss you but we’ll be happy, too. When we join you, nothing will take us from each other. We just have to wait.”

 It was gonna be a long wait Goku thought dully. He did make friends in the afterlife. He was happy but he was still lonely. He wanted to be with his family. “When you cross over, I’ll be there to welcome you,” Goku promised. “I’ll be there to make our souls whole again. I promise.”

 Chichi embraced him. She needed to hear that. His promise to be there when she crossed over ease the ache in her heart that she’ll feel once Goku leaves. “Thank you and I’ll bring with me memories of our children, stories of everything that happened.”

 With a final kiss, Goku and Chichi parted. “We can make some today.” They resume their walk down the corridor. It was time to leave their private spot and join the rest of the world again. “I only have one day. We better make the most of it, Chichi.”

 “We will,” Chichi promised. “It’ll be the best day ever.”

[lovelyladiesofoverwatchimagines]

Could I request a fantasy widowmaker x reader? Okay, so widow is a vampire that reader was meant to hunt, but before they could kill her, she fed from them and made them her property. At first highly resistant to all of her advances, reader starts to develop feelings for Widow, and falls in love? One day, another Hunter comes around and try’s to kill Widow, but before the new Hunter could land the killing blow, reader takes it instead. Could you have widow turn reader into a vamp to save them?

Ive been really sick, sorry it took so long

—————————–

“What did you do to me heathen?” You spat at the woman in front of you. You were the best hunter in France. And here you were, apprehended by the most feared creature in all of France

“I claimed you,” She said calmly

“You what?! Why?“ You shot back. The beast hesitated before answering

“No other hunter for the past 400 years has been able to even get close to my castle, or remotely past my traps. You interest me”

“Ok?” You looked confused

“So I’m keeping you here so you cant release a way to get to me” She explained

“You, the most powerful vampire in France, ”the Widowmaker” is scared of a Human?” You laughed out, practically sneering in her face

“Shut up”

———————–

“Eat” Widowmaker scolded from the other side of the cell wall

“No” You pushed the tray of food away

“You need sustenance”

“Yeah? What do you care? If I die you don’t have to worry about others finding you” You shot

“Despite what people think, I’m not a heartless monster. Starving is not pleasurable” Widowmaker shot back

“Fine ill eat, as long as it gets you to leave me alone” You mumbled, shoving a piece of bread into your mouth

————————

“What are you doing?” You stood as the cell door opened. As the weeks passed Widowmaker had become more friendly towards you. Suppose loss of human or beast contact will do that to you

“I’m letting you out. Providing you a room in my villa is the least I can do since you’ll never part” Widowmaker answered, holding her hand out to you. You took it

“Thank you” You mumbled as she led you up the stairs and to a new part of the villa

————————

“So then I said, that’s an Alibi, not a squid” You laughed covering your mouth. Amelie subtly laughed and smiled at you. The wine in her hand almost half empty

“You are very funny you know” She implied

“My ex thought so too,” You said shooting down the last of your wine

“You are not with anyone?” Amelie acknowledged. You shrugged and put the wineglass down

“Nah, once I started hunting, things changed. I pushed everyone away” YOu looked down and twiddled with your thumbs

“Why?”  She asked

“The reason I hunt is that one of your kind killed my daughter,” You said sternly. The mood of the room changed greatly in a matter of seconds

“I am sorry,” She said. You coughed and stood.

“I’m not so hungry anymore. Thanks for the dinner. Goodnight Widowmaker" You said, making your way out of the den

“Amelie,” She said quickly

“What?”

“My name…its Amelie,” She said hesitantly. You smiled and headed up the stairs to bed

————————-

“Good morning Amelie” You  greeted, sniffing the air and rubbed your eyes

“Good morning (Y/n), I was making eggs, would you like some?” Amelie said from the kitchen

“Si” You returned

“You know, I have told you about myself…But you’ve shared nothing about yourself with me. I think we should change that, Oui?” She set down the utilities and turned to look at you

“Sure” So that’s what happened. Amelie laid down in your lap and listened for hours to your story, your life, your family, parents, education, all of it.

“You came to France just to hunt me?” Amelie said, almost in a voice that said she was impressed

“Yeah and before that it was a coven of Demons called Los Muertos, run by their alpha known as Sombra. She was tricky. Promised me my daughter if I let her live” You said, taking a sip of your drink

“Did you?”

“First thing you learn as a hunter is never trusting a deal.” YOu laded, looked down at the woman. She smiled up at you. You shook your head and looked toward the ceiling

“Vampires destroyed my family and here I am fraternizing with one” You laughed and sighed at the same time

“We are fraternizing?” Amelie asked, raising an eyebrow

“Well… I mean..yes?” You stuttered out

“Then we should do it properly, Non?” SHe breathed, leaning up she connected her lips to your own. You smiled and kissed back eagerly

————————–The next night you read quietly in bed, only to look up to be greeted with one of the most beautiful sights you had ever seen. Your jaw dropped as Amelie spoke

“A countess gets lonely after a few hundred years mon cher” The lingerie held tightly to her body

“I bet she does” Was all you could get out

“Care to spend the night with me?” She suggested, holding her hand out. You stood and nodded. Following her to her room. She sat on her bed seductively. You gulped and blushed. Her eyes pierced your soul as she reached a lanky finger out and motioned towards her.  

That night you spent together was the first of many. A few weeks proceeding that night you woke up in each other’s arms as usual for the past weeks, every morning, evening and night you two fell in more love than you ever had. Her yellow eyes peered into you that morning, just like the one before

“Good morning darling” She whispered to you as your eyes fluttered open

“Good morning mi Amor,” You said with a smile. You graded your lips on hers. You placed your hand on her waist and kissed harder. You only pulled away when you heard a rap on wood

“That was the door?” You sat up, the blankets covering your bare waist. You slid out of bed and put on clothes. Amelie sat up and looked at you with concern

“Let me check it. ” You said sternly

“But-” She started

“Ame I have a feeling I know who it is,” You said sadly. You made your way down the two-story villa and to the large door. You opened it as you heard Amelie be decent down the stairs. You looked at the figures at the door. One wore a hood the other you immediately recognized

“Atlanta” You spoke

“(Y/n)… I thought you were dead” The woman said in shock

“No, I’ve just been, planning my next hunt..” You excused

“Without Cherin? I thought you two were partners?” She asked

“We were but there we some-” You looked Amelie in the eyes

“Complications”

“(Y/n) are you sure you’re alright, your never this open about, well anything” Atlanta being one of your closest friends, she would know

“Fine,” You said, looking at the stairs. Atlanta squinted, peering at your neck

“You’ve been claimed (Y/n), that’s a vampire mark..” Atlanta stated

“Yes I got in a scuffle” You lied

“I know she’s here (Y/n)” The figure removed his hood to reveal your partner.

“Cherin,” You said acknowledging him

“Move” He musked out

“You aren’t getting to her” You moved to cover the door, Amelie stepped down another step as Cherin delivered a knockout blow to your face. You sank to the floor. In a blurry image, you saw the larger hunter move towards Amelie who bared her fangs threateningly at him. He pulled a large cured stake out of his coat and thrust it at Amelie

“Amelie!” You yelled quickly standing up and running toward your lover, jumping in front of the stab. Your life flashed as you felt the excruciating pain fill your lung. You heard a scream and muffled words as you slumped to the floor. Almost immediately you heard the stake drop and Amelie rushed to your side. She screamed at the intruding hunters

“Leave! You’ve broken one of the most sacred hunting laws. Leave before I make you” Tears welled her eyes

“Let’s go, Cherin,” Atlanta said, pulling on the other hunter who just stared in horror. As they left Amelie’s focus went back to you

“Please, please breath you’ll be ok” Amelie begged to your unconscious body

—————————-

“Good morning my love” Amelie choked out. You weakly smiled and opened your mouth to speak, all that came out was a cough and trail of blood

“Don’t speak” Amelie said

“Save your strength darling” She tucked a stray hair behind your ear. You smiled and pressed her hand to your face

“You look sad amor” You wimpily whined out. Pain piercing everywhere in your midsection

“You are dying,” Amelie said with drops filling her eyes. You clenched your jaw

“Turn me,” You said hesitantly. Amelie’s eyes widened in shock

“I know you were thinking about it but wouldn’t without my concent..so do it”

“Cher it is no small choice..and even if I did you can’t leave the castle. Eventually, you will get tired of me. And there is no guarantee it will work” She explained

“I love you, Amelie. And I trust you” You leaned in and kissed her. She sniffed and kissed back. You leaned back and coughed. Amelie sighed

“Alright”

———————–

“I am also yet a girl, standing in front of my love, asking them to love her. But I guess if she is loved she should let her love move on. "Look at me she cries, come back to me, I love you and not another.” And its because she loves them that, she can’t be selfish. Yet when she says “I love you”, she expects it said back. The best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more and that plants a fire in our hearts and minds. That’s what she had to give. As the girl waits for a reply she thinks of a story. “You’re waiting for a train, a train that’ll take you far away, and you know where you want this train to take you, but you can’t know for sure, but it doesn’t matter, but it doesn’t matter, because they’ll be together.’” You sighed finishing the book. You ran your tongue over your left fang and picked up your sleeping wife to take her to bed. Maybe being stuck with the countess wasn’t so bad