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vampirefreakism · 2 years

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The Blue Princess (Chapter 8)

Summary: Luna hangs out with Wanda and talks about what’s weighing on her

Warnings: nothing

Word count: 3k

The AO3, Wattpad, and Spotify links are on the Masterlist

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"So, to establish a timeline, we need some evidence that you would have no way of fabricating," Foggy asked politely. "A photo album, a personal video, or something of that nature. Think you might have something like that?"

“I have a daily journal that I keep,” Luna responded. “I know I have a couple that run the timespan of Loki’s stay with me.”

“That would be perfect,” Matt said, “if you’re willing for us to read them.”

“I can bookmark some pertinent passages if that might save you some time.”

“Even better.”

“And you do understand that we may have to present these if the need arises?” Foggy added.

Luna paused and thought about it. Her private thoughts on display for total strangers, including her lawyers?

“Uh, sure. I’ll still bookmark the important parts. Everything else, you don’t have to look at.”

"Of course," Matt said warmly. "You have our word that we'll only read what you provide."

“Ok, thank you. I really hope this helps.”

“It’s a pretty cut-and-dry case from our perspective, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Wow, what’s it like to be that confident?” Luna joked lightheartedly.

Matt chuckled. “Feels good, but it didn’t come without its hassles.” There was a shuffling of paper and light scribbling. “I think that’s it for today. Are there any more questions?”

“Oh, yes. Before I forget, are you sure you can represent both me and Loki? I don’t know all the logistics of this.”

Foggy spoke up. “It’s fine for more than one person to be represented by a single team, so long as there isn’t a conflict of interest that might ruin the case.”

“Oh, good. Heh, I was a little worried there.”

“You and Loki are in very safe hands. Matt and I are looking forward to meeting you both in person.”

“Us as well. You two take care now.”

“Bye,” and off went the line.

Luna turned her phone off and dropped it on the couch with a sigh. She eyed the diaries on the shelf and considered going through them now, but she decided not to. She and Loki wouldn’t be meeting Murdock and Nelson for another week, so it could wait. Instead, she walked to the shelf and picked through the vinyl records to play some music. One by Depeche Mode caught her finger, and she plucked it from the lineup.

Blowing the dust off the top, Luna opened the record player and carefully placed the vinyl in the center. She flicked the ‘on’ switches, turned the nobs, and dropped the needle. The drums burst forth, giving way to a thumping bass synth.

“My little girl, drive anywhere”

Luna mouthed the lyrics as she danced. It had been so long since she listened to music simply for enjoyment. She’d almost forgotten her favorite songs, but they quickly returned the longer she danced.

“Ooh, hello?” said a sweet voice from behind her. Luna turned around and was pleasantly met by Wanda’s charming smile.

“Wanda! Hey!” Luna said, smiling and doing a two-step toward Wanda. She joined in, bobbing her head to the beat.

“Love this song!” Wanda remarked and took Luna’s hand to dance with her.

The two laughed and danced freely like they hadn’t a care in the world. It was nice to dance with a friend, especially a friend they never had as a dance partner. Wanda felt spirited enough to take Luna into a dance, but Luna grew curious.

“You seem happy,” she commented.

“I am,” Wanda answered, smile still bright. “Vision is coming over!”

“What?!” Luna exclaimed as she halted her movements. “He can just do that?”

“Yeah!” Wanda stopped and caught her breath. “He can move faster than the speed of sound, so he can go just about anywhere.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. He can do that.” Luna nodded. She was by no means upset with Wanda and her Vision. They’d always been rule-breakers, so now would be no different, and if she and Loki were in their shoes, they’d have the same arrangement.

“Yeah. I’m just waiting for him to get here, so I’m just walking around.” Wanda twirled her finger in the air. “He’s still teasing his big surprise.”

“Ooh, how mysterious,” Luna sang, making Wanda tuck her smile into her shoulder.

“I came over to ask you something. What was it?” Wanda tapped her chin in thought as she resumed swaying to the music. Luna watched her in anticipation until she gasped in remembrance. “Oh yeah! I wanted to know if you wanted to watch ‘The Addams Family’ with me.”

Luna’s mouth cracked an excited smile. “Sure! I mean, I’m not doing much right now.” She waved a hand around, showing off nothing in particular. Wanda clapped her hands together, then grabbed Luna’s hand and led her out of the room to hers.

Wanda kept her room spacious and clean, and it took little effort to make sure it was tidy on a daily basis. Most of her magic practice took place in managing whatever space she was sleeping and waking up in.

“When is Vision coming over?” Luna asked as she sat on Wanda’s bed. “I don’t want to make his arrival awkward.”

“Oh, not for a little bit,” Wanda replied. She grabbed her tablet and got on the bed next to Luna. "But you don't have to worry. I'll sense him when he's near." Her tablet turned on, and she scrolled through the episodes. "Is it ok I start where I left off?"

Luna nodded. “Yeah. I’ve watched the show before, so I’ll like whatever you put on.” Wanda responded with a content smile and selected her desired episode.

The pair shared a few laughs, happy smiles, and fond looks during their show. Across the second episode, Wanda's mind began to wander, and her train of thought brought her to think about her friend.

“So, how are things with Loki?” she asked Luna.

Luna glanced over as she was still enjoying the show. “Huh? Oh, uh, it’s going ok.” There was a brief lull as Wanda thought of something else to say, but Luna continued talking. “Well, I’m feeling a little weird, to be honest.”

Wanda’s brow furrowed. “About what?”

“About,” Luna paused and waved a hand, “ah, you don’t want to hear about it. Probably too much information.”

“Hey, no.” Wanda bumped her arm sympathetically. “It’s always good to talk. And if you want, I can keep it a secret.”

Luna looked at her quizzically. “Promise?”

"You're my friend. Of course." Wanda paused the episode and took her hand. "Now, what's bothering you?"

Luna sighed and picked at her cuticle. “I’ve been feeling weird about,” she gestured vaguely, “my body. Like, in regards to Loki. You know?”

“Like, how he sees you?” Wanda asked, and Luna nodded. Wanda glanced down to ponder. “Haven’t you slept together already? Forgive me if that’s too personal.”

“It’s not. And no, we haven’t. I still have to talk to him about it.” Luna adjusted her position to face Wanda. “But it’s kind of a new problem. I got these scars from being attacked,” she held a hand to her chest, “and I sometimes feel like,” she paused and clenched her teeth, “if Loki saw them, he’d hate me.” She put her hand down and shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being unreasonable.”

“No, I get it. But I’m sure he doesn’t have an issue. He’s just happy you’re here with us.”

“He’s said so, but he,” Luna sighed heavily. “The same person hurt him. He’s shown me the scars he got, and I feel like I’ll remind him of that pain. And if it doesn’t affect him now, maybe eventually it will.”

Wanda nodded slowly. “Ok,” she said thoughtfully. “What happened when you saw his?”

Luna scratched her palm, stared at her lap, and muttered, “He was scared.”

“Why was he scared?” Wanda asked softly.

“He was afraid I’d mock him, call him a coward or weak.”

“But you didn’t.” Luna shook her head, and Wanda nodded again in understanding. “Does he know you feel like this?”

“Yeah. I told him so the other day. He, uh,” Luna bit her lip and spoke in a low voice. “He’d asked me to take another shower with me.”

“Another?!” Wanda exclaimed. “You said you never slept with him!”

“Shh, I know, and I haven’t! That was only the extent of it, and it only happened once.”

“Now I’m curious. What was that like?”

“It’s irrelevant to this conversation. Anyway, as much as I wanted to, I had to say ‘no.’”

“Ok, but I don’t think that first time is irrelevant.” The two shared a look in the brief silence. “What happened for you to be fine with him?”

Luna shrugged. “I really needed his company. I asked him.”

“So you trusted him with yourself. With your body.” Luna nodded. “Why can’t you do that again?”

“Because it’s not the same anymore. If he looks upon me like he did that time, he might not want me anymore.”

“But he does,” Wanda said in an evident tone. “Just offering to bathe with you again says that much.”

“But what if he doesn’t know what he’s saying?” Luna said sadly.

"Has he given you a reason to doubt him?" Wanda waited but didn't receive a response. "It's no secret what happened to you. Everyone knows about it.”

“I know.”

"So Loki knows and wants to be with you very much. I don’t get the impression his feelings about you have changed.”

Luna looked down and fiddled with her pant leg. “So, what should I do? Just take the leap?” She chuckled sadly. “The worst thing he would tell me is to put my robe back on.”

“He wouldn’t say that. He’d feel your fear and meet you with open arms, just like you did for him.” Wanda brushed some of Luna’s hair from her forehead. “Think about how it felt the first time and how scared you both were, but yeah. Go for it. You still want him, don’t you?”

Luna quirked a brow. “Are you kidding?” The two chuckled.

“I’m sure he knows, but he’s very lucky to have you.” She gazed at her friend. “Remember, I know what it’s like to be liked by you.”

“Oh, stop that,” Luna playfully chastised.

“Never.” Wanda embraced her and held her tight. “You and Vision made me feel so loved when I thought I’d never have it again. Loki felt a little like I did, so I know that there’s nothing he could hate about you.” Wanda rubbed Luna’s arm. “You could use it to bring you closer. Think about it. You know how Loki feels, and he knows how you feel.”

Luna nodded thoughtfully and whispered, “Yeah.” Wanda smiled sweetly as she let her go and rubbed her shoulder again.

“It’ll be ok. Just trust the fact that he really loves you.” She reached for her tablet to resume the episode but paused halfway and gasped. “He’s here!”

“Huh?” Luna breathed out, feeling very turned around.

“Vision! He's here!" Wanda hurried off the bed and stopped to look at Luna. "Oh, I'm so sorry this ended so quickly. Maybe later, we can finish the episode."

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, sounds great.” Luna shuffled off the other side of the bed and went for the door. She turned the knob and walked through, nearly running into the sturdy body of Vision on the other side. “Vision! Hi!”

“Dr. Fields! Hello!” he greeted as he leaned in for a hug. Luna happily accepted it. He was a great hugger. “How are you doing?”

"Doing as well as I can." The two separated, and Luna took a step around him. "How are you?"

“I haven’t felt this good in what seems like ages.” The twinkles in his eyes displayed a happiness she’d never seen before. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything. I know you and Wanda have been missing each other.”

Luna swatted the air. “Oh no, you’re fine. We were just watching ‘The Addams Family’ until you got here. And, well,” she gestured to him, “you’re here, so I’ll take my leave.” She looked at Wanda and stepped over for a brief hug. “We’ll talk later, maybe?”

“Ok. Just remember what I said,” Wanda answered and pulled back to pat Luna’s cheek. “Everything will be alright. Just trust him.”

Luna nodded and responded, “I will.”

Wanda and Vision spared her one last farewell and shut the door behind them, leaving Luna to stand in the hallway and listen to their muffled voices.

She moseyed down the hall to her room so she could properly put the vinyl record away and turn anything off she’d left on. As her gaze passed over the room, it landed on the rose by the window. The beautiful blue rose she grew with her love. She filled a cup with water and ruminated on Wanda’s words as she poured it into the dark soil.

Loki loved her, she knew that much was true, and he demonstrated an accepting nature toward her. She valued that as much as anyone should, but it still frightened her. It brought tears to her eyes to think of offending him without meaning to. She also loved him and wanted to do right by him, but also by herself.

Standing up with a huff, Luna peeked out the window. The weather seemed fair, so she removed her burning thoughts from the claustrophobic room and took them outside. She quickly changed into outdoor pants, grabbed her mat, and headed downstairs.

Luna picked her favorite spot under her favorite tree and got comfortable on her mat. She closed her eyes and felt the air move gently around her. It calmed her, and she appreciated the release it offered.

Yawning and stretching, she listened to the sounds of the leaves and birds in the treetops. She focused on them so much that she missed the sound of gentle footsteps approaching her.

“Hello, darling," said the newcomer, startling Luna from her dazed state. Her eyes popped open, and she looked up to gaze upon her sweet love.

“Hi!” she greeted with a bright grin.

Loki gestured to the empty spot next to her. “May I join you?”

“Sure." Luna scooted over, and Loki sat beside her, pulling his shoes off and crossing his legs. “Do you mind me meditating a bit?”

“Not at all.” He fixed his hands to rest on his bent knees like Luna’s. “I was thinking of doing the same, so you’ll have like-minded company.”

“Nice,” Luna said affectionately. She closed her eyes and tried to resume her original train of thought, but Loki flooded every corner of her mind, and it was useless to shake him out at this point, especially with him sitting beside her.

“What do you generally think about?” Loki asked. Luna opened one eye to peek at him.

“Do you really want to know?”

He nodded his head, eyes still closed. “Yeah.”

Luna bit at her lip. “Lately, I, uh, I think about you.”

There was a gentle pause as Loki took in her words.

“Good things, I hope,” he said softly.

“Yeah. Really good things,” Luna replied even softer. Her cheeks grew a little warm. “I think about how you make me feel and what I feel about you.”

“Really?” Luna hummed an affirmation. “Can I feel what that’s like with you? Even just a little?”

“Ok. I don’t know if it’ll work, but,” she trailed off.

“As long as I’m here, I’ll gladly join you.”

Loki extended his pinky and looped it around Luna’s. Their bond was strong, so this little touch was enough to draw up what took so much energy to summon alone. It gently turned on the faucet and let flow the Feeling from deep within their chests. It ran like a quiet stream through their veins and nerves until it met where they touched. There, the Feeling mixed and grew together, filling them up with a comfort only obtained from fresh water. They felt it in their noses and ears and felt it sit on the tips of their tongues. It was all-encompassing and bound them to their corporeal forms and the here-beyond.

Beyond words and comprehension, Loki was left speechless. More and more, Luna seems to leave him out of his mind, but he likes it when she does. She’s the only one able to steal his words away with his permission. But curiosity got ahold of him, and he peeked an eye open to spy on their intertwined pinkies.

As he suspected, his eye was hit with a dazzling blue. It ran up Luna’s arms and neck and adorned her beautiful face. She wore it like the sky wore a sunny day. Every time he saw it, he was caught and urged to bask in her splendor.

But now, as Loki’s eye drifted back down, the blue of his own skin caught the air in his throat. The shade looked slightly different in the natural sunlight but a brilliant blue nonetheless. His long sleeves hid the rest of him, so he looked down at his nose and cheek. The small spots he could see were equally as brilliant, and he let out a whispered, “Wow.”

Ideally, Luna had heard, and her mouth formed a slight smile. “I know, right? So cool,” she murmured back and opened one eye to peek at him. Her smile grew wider upon seeing him, and he smiled back.

Her smile charmed him, but it was the look in her ruby-red eye that shed a bit of weight off his shoulders. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but at that moment, he didn't want to. All he needed to know was that it made him feel good. One little look from her, and he knew his place on the little blue planet. As for Luna, his smile gave her the reassurance she needed. He enjoyed her as she was, just as she enjoyed him, without any need to doubt him.

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A/N: hope you enjoyed that! I had an extra bit but it was taking too long to write so I have this portion for you. I’ll post the extra bit when I’m done.

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Taglist: @the-doctor-9-10 @pinkieperil @pinkie-ghuleh @wreckache @will-die-without-chai @marvelschriss @hornybitchwithgoodtaste @fantasyfan4life

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street-smarts00 · 3 years

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I Hear a Symphony

Midoriya x fem!reader

Summary: Midoryia couldn’t tell the difference between romantic and platonic feelings. It took 4 conversations for him to realize how much you meant to him and how he had fallen completely and utterly in love with you.

⚠️ language

WC: 4,500

Eri was spending the day with class 1-a. You, Izuku and Eri were relaxing in the living room watching Disney movies. This time Eri wanted to watch her favorite, Frozen 2. The three of you were snuggled up on the couch together; you were seated to the right of Deku and Eri was to his left. He had both of his arms wrapped around the two of you.

“Hey izuku, what time is it?” you asked.

He picked up his phone, “4:25”

“Shit, I’m studying with Yaomomo and Tsu in five minutes,” you promptly stood up and grabbed your phone. “I gotta go, see ya later guys” you waved as you jogged to the elevator.

Eri and Deku stayed in the living room watching the movie. He was really glad that Eri took a liking to you. At first when Eri started to visit the 1-a dorm she was shy and mostly stayed with Deku, and sometimes Uraraka, Tsu, and Kirishima because they were familiar to her after the overhaul mission. But after a short while she started to open up and talk to his other classmates; especially you.

“Hey deku, what is a girlfriend?” Midoriya’s eyebrows raised, “Huh? What got you thinking about that?”

“Someone in lemillion’s class said they had a girlfriend.” Oh well that made a lot more sense.

“Well um a girlfriend, a girlfriend is,” he wasn’t sure how to explain it, he’s never had a girlfriend before. He also didn't want to explain it in a way that she would be confused or misinterpret what he said. He glanced up at the tv . . . Wait, that's it!

“I know, it’s like Anna and Kristoff. So you know how they fall in love and get married at the end of the movie?” He asked.

“Yea”

“Well before they get married they’re dating, and when a girl and a boy are dating they are boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Oh ok, I think it get it,” she responded as she smiled. “So it’s like you and y/n?”

WHAT? Where would she get that idea? One minute ago she didn't even know what a girlfriend was. Midoryia’s cheeks turned a shade of pink and his voice cracked when he spoke. “Um not really, we aren’t boyfriend and girlfriend,” He replied as he shifted his weight in his seat.

“But you always kiss her, and Anna and Kristoff kiss,” She added as she pointed to the characters on the tv screen.

“I uh, well they kiss on the lips, y/n and I kiss on the forehead and cheek, and sometimes friends kiss each other on the forehead and cheek.”

“Ooooh, ok!” She turned her attention back to the screen and leaned into him as she grabbed onto the blanket.

FEW, he was beyond thankful that she seemed to drop that topic. Although, it did stick with him; was it normal for him and you to kiss each other? It’s not like you guys made out or anything, but fairly often you guys did greet each other with a kiss on the forehead or cheek. But you guys definitely kissed in a not romantic way though. Yea definitely not in a romantic way. Yea, definitely.

“Hey deku, is y/n a princess? You call her princess a lot.” Eri questioned.

Midoryias heartbeat sped up. “No she’s not a princess.” He replied calmly even though his brain and heart were going a mile a minute. But then again what did he have to be worried about, you two were just really close friends that happen to be very affectionate and call each other cute nicknames. He called you princess, and you called him pretty boy. It was just a fun game between friends. His pulse slowed as his train of thoughts centered around you. He’s called you by that nickname for a while. He doesn’t remember when or how he started to call you princess, but he sure as hell knew why. “But she’s a princess to me,” he added.

Eri turned to him, eyes widened with excitement, “Am I like a princess?”

“Yes Eri. You are like a princess.” Eri smiled with one of the brightest smiles he had ever seen.

A few days later Deku was meeting with All Might in their usual teacher lounge room. Although originally they were talking about one for all, the topic of conversation shifted to you.

“And it’s not so much that her quirk itself is super cool and powerful, but it’s how she uses it. She’s always so creative and has brilliant strategies.” Deku beamed.

“You sure do talk about her a lot.” All Might chuckled. He watched as Midoryia’s bond with you grew rapidly as school went on. He also noticed that his successor would bring her up a lot and would bubble with excitement at any chance to talk about her.

“She’s amazing! She’s super nice and always looks out for others. And I love how passionate she is about the things she loves like music, she absolutely loves music. OH and she’s an amazing fighter. She does this thing when she’s fighting like she always raises her left eyebrow, never the right one because she can’t. AND she . . .” Midoryia realized that he had been talking a lot. He pulled at the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling,”

“Don’t worry it’s ok, it’s cute listening to you talk about your girlfriend,”

What? Not this again. “Uh, y/n and I aren’t dating,” he squeaked. He coughed and cleared his throat so that hopefully his voice would go back to normal. Why was his heartbeat speeding up? He was so calm a second ago, why does it feel like his heart is about to fly out of his chest or like he’s going to pass out.

All Might could see the boy tense and his nervousness still lingering. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,” He apologized frantically, waving his hands in surrender.

The boy seemed to calm down a bit but was still visibly tense and nervous “It’s ok, but um why would you think that?” Damn his voice was still squeaky, he cleared his throat again.

“Because the two of you are so close and during class you’re always together. Also because of the way you talk about her. Like, I don’t know you have this smile on your face that I only see when you look at her or talk about her.”

“Oh but I don’t think I treat her any differently than my other friends,” Midoryia added. He really didn't think he gave you any special attention. He was close with all of his friends and is just a super affectionate person. Whether it was hugs with Tsu or linking arms with Iida. But then again he didn’t kiss them on the forehead and cheek.

“It seems to me that she’s more than just a friend,” All Might implied. He saw the boy's face turn a dark shade of red. “Sorry, if I made you uncomfortable.”

“Huh? oh it’s ok don’t worry about it,” Midoriya stammered. He played with the fabric of his jacket sleeves. “But ya know you’re not the first person to think that we’re dating.”

“Really?” All Might tried to sound as surprised as he could.

“Yea the other day Eri asked me if y/n and I were boyfriend and girlfriend, like in the Disney movie we were watching.” Midoriya felt like he was experiencing 30 emotions all at once. He didn’t know what he was feeling or how he was supposed to feel.

The school bell rang and zoned him out of his thoughts that we’re running wild. He quickly said goodbye to All Might and ran to class. He couldn’t stop his mind from racing. Did he like you? Like in a crush type of way? He’s never liked anyone before so he isn’t sure.

Once he reached the class room he passed by your desk on the way to his.

“Hey pretty boy!” You beamed. When you saw his expression you were filled with concern. His face was red, eyes were wide and his eyes were darting all over the place but refused to land on you. “Hey are you ok? You look stressed.”

He finally placed his eyes on yours and took a deep breath. “Yea I’m good I’ve just got a lot on my mind and I’m trying to figure something out.” He stuttered.

You stood up from your seat, “ok, well if you need some help or maybe a hug, i'll always be here.” You leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek like it was normal, because it was. He couldn’t believe it, that this was his normal. The fact that the two of you casually kiss each other and so much apparently that when you do it in front of your classmates they don’t even bat an eye.

“Thanks,” he replied as he awkwardly walked over to his desk and sat down. He placed his arms on his desk and rested his head on his arms. Bakugou turned around and gazed at the kid that he’s known for most of his life. “You look like shit.”

Midoryia raised his one arm and gave a thumbs up, “Thanks Kachan, I really appreciate it,” he quipped. Bakugou grumbled and turned back to face the front of the room.

He was stuck. Figuratively and literally. Literally, he was stuck in his bed because he was unable to move. Figuratively, he was stuck with how he felt about you and what this means. Right after school ended he stayed in his room analyzing how he felt about you. He wasn’t 100% sure if he actually had feelings for you and at this point he’s worried that he is over thinking things. Which he probably is.

During all of his freaking out he received a text from you. Great 🙃. He unlocked his phone and opened your text.

Princess: hey, this song reminded me of you

He opened the song, I Hear a Symphony by Cody Fry. He’d never heard it before but he always loved your music recommendations. He pressed play and listened to the lyrics.

I used to hear a simple song

That was until you came along

Now in its place is something new

I hear it when I think of you

Huh, so now that he is in her life he changed her, but in a good way (or at least he’s hopping). He loved the melody and the way the song started off with piano. It was very calming to him.

As the song went on he continued to listen to the lyrics carefully. There weren’t that many lyrics so he was relaxing listening to the beautiful build up to the chorus. He felt like he was entering a fantasy listening to this song. It was graceful and peaceful, but also powerful and full of emotion.

I used to hear a simple song

That was until you came along

You took my broken melody

And now I have a symphony

He was frozen as the song finished. That remind you of him? He knew that you always pay attention to the lyrics and the meanings of songs, so this wasn’t just any old song. Did he really make that much of an impact on you? Listening to this song knowing that you thought of him made his heart ache. His stomachs filled with butterflies and his pulse slowed down from its former fast tempo.

Not long after, Uraraka and Todoroki stopped by his room. “Hey deku. Can we come in? I’m with todoroki.” Uraraka chimed.

He got up from his bed and fixed his hair after lying down for the past hour. He opened the door with a genuine smile, “Hey guys! Yea sure come in, what’s up?”

Uraraka sat down in his desk chair, “We wanted to check up on you to make sure you were ok. You were really quiet in class today and you’ve stayed up here all afternoon.” He really appreciated his friends and how much they cared about him.

“Yeah, I’m ok. I was just kinda um freaking out about something earlier and had to think things through. But now I’m not freaking out anymore, well maybe, it's just a lot to process.” Midoryia rambled.

“What's the problem?” Todoroki asked.

Midoryia scratched the back of his neck. “Umm can you guys promise not to tell anybody?”

“Of course”

“Promise”

Midoryia anxiously placed his hands in his pockets. He needed someone’s advice. “I think I might have feelings for y/n.” He babbled.

The two friends in his room had very little reactions, if any at all. This’d made no sense, he just confessed that he might have romantic feelings for their friend and they don’t react?

Todoroki was the first to speak, “I thought you knew that.”

“Todoroki!” Uraraka chimed in a scolding tone.

“What? What do you mean? I just figured this out today!” Midoryia stammered. He was beyond confused. “So wait a second, you guys knew that I like her and didn't say anything?”

“Not to be as blunt as Todoroki but, we thought you knew you liked her. It was kind of obvious. You guys practically act like a couple already.” Uraraka answered.

“Do you mean like the nicknames, and kissing?”

“It’s not just that, you guys always slip in physical contact when you’re together, you both are very flirty from time to time, and any chance you get you start rambling about how great she is.” She replied. Well then that makes sense why he was going on a whole tangent about her with All Might earlier.

Uraraka’s features softened, “You really didn’t know?” Midoryia grabbed a fistful of his curls in frustration. “NO! I didn’t, not at all! I thought that was all normal friends stuff ya know!” He explained anxiously.

“We’re friends and you’ve never kissed me,” Shoto added. Uraraka giggled in response.

Midoriya sat down on his bed and played with the material of his hoodie. “So what do I do now?” He asked.

Uraraka walked over to his bed and sat down beside him. “I’m not sure, but if you really like her, then I think you should tell her. I know this is all new to you so don’t freak out about confessing right now. But I’d say give it some thought.”

Midoriya sighed and gazed at the floor. He had so much to process right now. “Thanks you guys,” he said.

It had been about a week since Deku had his mind blowing chat with his two friends. He was lying on the couch in the common area. But it was completely empty because it was 1:30 in the morning. At first he stayed up late studying, but then around an hour ago he tried to go to bed but could only stare up at the ceiling.

He figured maybe he needed a drink or snack or SOMETHING. He grabbed his blanket and wrapped it around his body. He knew it was going to be cold downstairs since it was snowing outside and the heater turned down at his hour. He made his way downstairs, but when the elevator opened he was too tired to head to the kitchen and make tea so instead he just plopped down on the couch.

He stayed there for a little while thinking about you. His thoughts recently always traveled back to you. Ever since people kept asking if you guys were dating, he hasn’t stopped thinking about doing romantic things with you. He smiled at the idea of holding hands with you and rubbing your hand with his thumb. Or cuddling with you in one of your dorms and saying sweet nothings in your ear. Or going on cute dates with you, like ice skating in the park. Or putting his hand on the small of your back and pulling you into a kiss.

Midoriya was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard the elevator open. He couldn’t see who it was from his view on the couch. The steps grew louder and stopped when they reached the lounge area. “Why the hell are you down here?” He heard from a deep voice.

He sat up and looked over at Katsuki. He was rubbing his eyes and his voice was groggy, he must have just worked up. “You’re down here too ya know,” Midoriya replied.

“Tch, yea but I just woke up, you probably haven’t slept at all have you? Ya damn insomniac.”

“I’m not in the mood Kachan.”

Bakugou grew suspicious of Midoriya’s response and tone. Usually he would respond with a snarky reply or a rambly explanation. He also sounded physically and mentally exhausted. Bakugou walked closer to the boy wrapped in a blanket and poked him. “What’s wrong with you?” He asked in a calmer but still rough tone.

The green haired boy shrugged his shoulders in response. “Nothing.”

“Yea sure, you’re alone in the dark in the middle of the night, and I can tell something’s bothering you.” Bakugou poked him again, “Now talk.”

Midoriya sighed, “I told you it’s nothing.��

Bakugou shoved his hands in his pockets,

“Fine don’t tell me.” He started to walk in the direction of the kitchen; But he stopped in his tracks after what he heard next.

“I’m in love with y/n,” Midoriya Mumbled.

Bakugou turned to face his childhood friend, “huh?” Midoriya pulled at the fabric of his blanket. “I said I’m in love with y/n. And I don’t know what to do,” he replied louder.

Bakugou made his way back to the couch. “Tch what the hell do you mean you don’t know what to do, if you like her so much then just ask her out.” Midoriya covered his face with his hands and sighed. Kachan was the last person he would expect to have this conversation with.

“I would, but I don’t want to make things awkward if she doesn’t like me back. I’m worried it will ruin our friendship,” Deku confessed.

Rolling his eyes, Bakugou sat on the couch adjacent to the one deku was sitting on. “Listen ya damn nerd, you’ve gotta be an idiot to think she doesn’t like you back. She follows you around like a damn puppy, it’s gross.” He cringed at that last statement.

“It’s not gross, it’s sweet. She cares about others a lot,” Midoriya corrected.

“She sure cares a whole lot about you for some reason.” Bakugou stood up again and slowly made his way to the kitchen to retrieve a water bottle he had been meaning to get. Midoriya was silent, Bakugou took note of this. The nerd was probably lost in his own train of thoughts at this point.

“Deku.” Midoriya turned to him, his blanket falling off of his shoulders. “Just suck it up and tell her how you feel. And don’t act like an idiot and say she won’t like you back. You may act like an idiot almost of the time but your not stupid. You know that girl would do anything for you.”

A small smile grew on Midoriya’s face. Bakugou saw and retorted, “If you tell anyone I said all that I’ll blow your ass up, got it?”

“Sure Kachan,” Deku laughed.

Midoriya couldn’t see it, but after Bakugou turned his back to him, there was a small grin on his face after hearing his “friends” normal tone again.

Not long after his chat with Kachan, Midoriya felt a lot better. He wasn’t stuck, not any more. He knew how he felt and he knew what to do.

You didn’t intend on staying up late. Originally you were going to watch a little Netflix, maybe go on your phone, and then go to bed around 11:30 or midnight. But then you found a new show to watch and 8 episodes later, it was 1:30 in the morning.

Around the middle of the 8th episode you heard a knock at your door. Crap. Just your luck. Every so often Aizawa would walk around the dorms if he didn’t go to sleep or woke up. He would check on the students to make sure they were asleep and in their own dorms.

About twice you and Midoriya got in trouble because one of you was in the other's dorm after curfew. Thankfully he didn’t catch you guys the other times you snuck into the other dorms.

It was actually a pretty common occurrence. Whether one of you couldn’t sleep and just wanted to talk, or if one of you woke up and needed help going back to sleep. Oh wait yea the knock at the door.

You paused your show and didn’t move. You waited for Aizawa to say something like open the door, or go to sleep, or Midoriya go back to your own room. But, you didn’t hear anything.

There was a second knock on the door, much weaker than the first. I guess it’s not Aizawa, you thought to yourself. You slowly got out of bed and tiptoed to the door. After opening it you didn’t see anyone. Huh?

You peaked your head out and looked around the hallway. “Hey,” You whispered. You saw Izuku slowly walking away from your room. He turned around and faced you looking frazzled. “Hi,” he replied with a small wave.

“What’s up? Can’t sleep?”

“Something like that. I didn’t think you were awake and I didn’t want to bother you.”

You opened your door wider, “Come here, get in.”

A small smile grew on his lips. He made his way into your room and sat down on your bed, you followed suit. “So what’s . .”

“I need to tell you something,” he interrupted. A small blush danced on his checks as he spoke. “Yea sure what is it?” You asked, voice filled with concern.

Midoriya was frozen, he wanted to speak but no words came out. This was a lot harder than he expected. He even went through what he was going to say beforehand in his dorm. Crap. His heart rate was picking up and his breathing quickened.

You could tell he was anxious and placed one of your hands in his. “Hey it’s ok, you can tell me anything.” You comforted him. “I’ll always be here for you.”

His features softened, “That’s what makes this so much harder,” he replied. He took a deep breath and tried to slow his rapid heart beat. He looked at the floor, too scared to look you in the eyes.

“I’m in love with you,” he confessed. He did it, he finally did it.

“You make me feel safe and happy. Your smile is beautiful and your laughter is contagious. I’ve never met someone like you. It’s like that song you sent me last week. My life was pretty boring and a little sad, but then I met you. You turned my broken melody into a symphony y/n.”

He couldn’t see your reaction but he felt your hand tighten its grip on his.

Now you were the one that was frozen. The two of you sat there for a minute in silence. He started to get worried. “Look, I get it if you don’t like me back, just, promise it won’t mess up what we have. Your friendship means too much to me to lose it.” He muttered.

You placed your hand on his chin and pulled his head to face you. Your faces were inches apart. You made sure to not take a pause in between what you were about to say, in fear that the first statement would give him a stroke. “I don’t like you, I love you.”

He didn’t know what came over him. Maybe it was the look of joy in your eyes. Maybe it was his blood filling with adrenaline. He didn’t know. He leaned forward and pecked you on the lips. The blush on his face only grew as he watched your eyes widen and cheeks turn red.

Only a few seconds after the first kiss, you leaned forward and matched his lips with yours. This kiss was nothing like the first one. The first one was an electric spark that filled you with happiness. The second kiss was more passionate and gentle. Although, it was a bit awkward at first and it took you guys a second to figure it out. But, pretty soon you both were in sync. You placed your hands on his neck and he reciprocated by placing his hands on your waist.

It felt like the world stopped spinning and it was only you two. You’ve waited for this moment for so long, since the culture festival to be exact. A moment where you were kissing the boy that you had fallen in love with and there wasn’t a care in the world.

The two of you pulled apart gasping for air. Your head was spinning. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” you sighed with a smile. Izuku giggled in response.

The two of you stayed in your room and went to sleep in each other's embrace not long after. You felt so safe in his arms, like you belonged there.

The next morning you woke up the blaring sound of your alarm. You turned around and shoved izuku’s shoulder. “Yo, pretty boy wake up,” you mumbled, voice groggy from just waking up.

Eyes still closed he wrapped his arms around your middle and pulled you towards his chest. “Nooo, I don’t wanna wake up. I stayed up super late confessing my love to the most beautiful girl in the world.” He whispered in response.

Before last night you two flirted or responded with wiry remarks like it was normal Tuesday. But now, it felt different. It wasn’t coming from your best friend, it came from a boy who had stolen your heart, and you stole his.

“I mean it. If I have to wake up you have to wake up,” You returned. He smiled and opened his eyes, “Good morning princess.”

You chucked and leaned forward to peck him on the corner of his lips before getting out of bed. “If I were you I’d head back to your room so you don’t have to sit through detention and have to explain why you were late.”

“Yeah you’re right,” he walked towards the door. “See ya later y/n.”

“See ya.”

#izuku midoria x reader #midoriya izuku #mha oneshot #mha x reader #mha headcanons #mha #my hero academia #fluff #mha fluff

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moxfirefly · 4 years

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Hi!

Can I ask you to do a fic about some numbers of the 200 prompts? If it's not a problem for you... ✨🥺👉🏻👈🏻✨

Maybe 51, 110 and 144 with Donnie and a fem reader? 🥺💜✨

I imagine that he's alone with the reader and she's listening some music. They're talking and then some songs with 'hot' lyrics or with 'sex vibe start to play, u know? Like Call Out My Name (The Weeknd), Chateau (blackbear)... They like each other so they get horny and end up fucking like animals. :)))

(The + kinky the better. I'm a horny™ girl xd)

Ps: If it's too much work or something don't worry. I don't want you to do something that you don't want/can :)❤️✨

Ps 2: I love your blog ❤️

As a member of the Donnie thirst brigade I’m more than happy to just give out some shameless smut with that tall sassy nerd. Also you had me at The Weeknd so yes. Took a small liberty with the music hope you dig it.

Goes without saying,

Rated Explicit (18+ Years Only)

“You give me energy, make me feel lightweight”

It starts with a simple question, a small fixation you’ve had when it comes to Donatello and your rapidly growing crush on him.

It’s a silly question, possibly even a comical one, but nevertheless an interesting one.

You’re both in his room, the ever changing LED lights accompanying the two of you while music drones out of his speakers. Inside the nook he barely sleeps in but still smells of him. Opposite each other, with your foot buried beneath his strong legs because you’re easily cold. That small detail of having Donnie’s hand resting close to your ankle making you smile.

Being best friends naturally meant that all manner of conversations have been had. Fun topics, curiosities of life and even some personal things you wouldn’t actually discuss with just anybody.

So you ask it,

“What’s a must have song in a sex playlist” You grin, wondering if this might be the time you both reach a TMI moment, but Donnie doesn’t disappoint. “I believe the mood is a big factor there, there is no sole correct answer” He throws back with a knowing smile. You slip your feet from under his thigh and opt out to prop them up on his lap, and on auto pilot he grabs them giving the soles of your feet a squeeze.

“Define mood? mood for sex is pretty straightforward and there’s gotta be a must have on said sex playlist” You retort back, enjoying how he just starts massaging your feet. “True but what I’m referring more is the mood of the moment, is it a loving mood? A kinky mood?” You wiggle your toes when he catches a ticklish spot. His answer absolutely delights you so you prod just a little more.

“Ok follow up, you’ve got a girl on your bed and she’s got the hots for you, what are you playing to set the mood just right?” You lean back, proud of yourself with the sheepish smile Donnie sports, making him flush was one of your favorite past times.

“Depends, is this girl kinky? Is she vanilla?” He pushes up his glasses when you make an ‘oh’ sound. “I think you like vanilla girls” You enunciate your statement by poking him with your foot.

“Y/n I’m seriously hurt, all this time as friends and you think vanilla girls are my favorite?” He shook his head with a snort.

“Donatello well I’ll be, we gotta circle back to that in a bit. So final answer, what are you playing when this hypothetical girl is giving you bedroom eyes?” You found his gaze, a shy smile gracing his features. Donnie leaned over plucking a tablet from his many little Knick knacks in the nook. He scrolled for a bit, swiping his finger upwards before a pleased look appeared on his face.

The familiar bass beat made your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Streets by Doja Cat? Really?” He nodded placing the tablet back in its stand. “Don’t approve?” He asked, you shook your head. “Au Contraire, I’d jump anybodies bones who’d play that to set the mood” The two of you looked at one another, Donnie eyes carefully scanning over your features, assessing a mile a minute in that brilliant mind of his.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” He followed the tip of your tongue sneaking out before you bit down on your bottom lip.

“Depends. Are you seducible?” You felt his hands run down your feet, gripping your ankles.

Donnie moved your legs, scooting closer to you with an unreadable expression. You didn’t register holding your breath until you reached for his glasses. Setting them aside you inched closer towards his lips. Donnie closed the remaining space, catching your lower lip between his lips, he kissed softly chastely leaving you somewhat hanging for what you hoped would be a deep kiss.

“You’re such a needy baby” His smile spread and you felt your heart skip a beat.

Oh. So that’s how he wanted to play.

You were ready to crash your lips onto his but felt his hand wrap around your throat, the way your pupils dilated only made him chuckle softly. “Call me vanilla again” His thumb caressed your throat, the sensation soothing but only making your stomach flip flop on itself. You were about to let another sass laced comment fall from your lips when his hand slid up, cupping your chin, rubbing the pad of his thumb across your lips.

God if he didn’t jump you by now you were going to scream.

“Donnie-“ He slid said thumb into your mouth and on command your eyes closed, where the fuck and how the fuck was he being this cocky and sure of himself?

Feeling the bed dip and said digit in your mouth disappear your eyes shot open. Donnie was pleased as punch with how stricken you looked. You bit the inside of your cheeks, pressing your thighs together. Time to level the playing field. You smoothed out your skirt, sitting up better to entice him with your legs.

“Chicken” You smirked.

“You can do better than that, Y/n” Donnie made sure the space was safe and no interruptions would take place, he toned down the colors of the lights. For a fraction the air of cockiness left him. “Are sure about this? Do you want to keep going?” Ever the gentleman, you gave your answer by hooking your fingers in his belt loops and tugging him closer. You backed up into the nook, Donnie knelt on the bed, astride your hips, eyes focused on taking in the details he’d often fantasized about.

“You already know how this one will end” You ran a hand up that hard plastron, the sensation making you curious, gently you placed open mouthed kisses. You felt him inhale deeply as you slowly undid the button of his pants. His hand came to rest behind your hair, digging into the scalp as you continue your trail of kisses.

“This your plan all along?” You snapped off his suspenders. “Too obvious I’ve been wanting to fuck my best friend silly?” Donnie swallowed, hands untying his signature mask, he tugged you down onto his bed, he’d never seen an image so beautiful and right. Without hesitation his hands cupped your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt. He buried his face between them, all tension rolling off those broad shoulders in shuddering breaths. “You smell perfect” Came his muffled reply between your breast. You raised your hips, trying to find some friction which Donnie was happy to provide with a roll of his hips.

That felt big, that felt way too good. “I feel better I can assure you” That definitely caused a deep churr to vibrate from within him. Explorations can be resumed for another time, right now you wanted him to feel the mess he had caused with such simple touches and words. Somewhere around breathing each others hard gasps, you felt your skirt being pushed up, as you nudged his pants further down with your foot. Donnie was super glued to your lips, even as hands explored, cupping, grabbing, running along the product of his torture.

With a plead that you pressed against his throat you felt Donnie throw your leg over his hip, your hand disappearing between the two of your to guide his hard slick cock to your aching core. There on your sides you met eyes as he pushed into you so deliberately slow, not just to not hurt you but to watch that very second where your gaze comprehended the sensation of him. Your knuckles ran the edges of his shell before landing at his neck. Each thrust sending waves of dizzying pleasure.

Donnie pressed his forehead against yours, that cockiness replaced by pure bliss, mouth agape and eyes shut tight as he moved with each of your wanton sounds. “Donnie look at me, want you to look at me when you cum” Your voice trembled when his eyes fluttered open and you saw such a debauched display. This time you grinned breathless as you wrapped a hand around his neck. “Yes, just like that baby, for me come on” You moaned when his hips began to stutter ruthlessly.

Kissing Donnie as he started to cum was possibly going to be your favorite thing from now on. He went to limp against you but still kept a bruising hold on you as he filled you up and made you so warm. Running the tips of your finger across his cheek you saw that sated smile appear. Slowly disentangling you he slid down moving your legs apart, and already you knew that there was no stoping this.

You were both simply hooked.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt donatello x female reader #tmnt donatello x reader #donatello x reader #tmnt donnie x reader #donnie x reader #tmnt Donatello #Donnie #Donatello #tmnt Donnie #ns*w #requested oneshot #ask #avvazz

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fortheloveofwonderland · 3 years

Text

Sticks and Stones - Chapter 6 [Spencer Reid x fem! Reader]

Taglist is open, and now has an option to be tagged in this series - you can find the form here.

A/N - here is chapter 6! Lyrics are from Carefully by Demi Lovato, which you can listen to here.

/// indicates change of perspective. Starts in Spencer's POV.

This fic is a slow burn. Strangers to friends to very eventual lovers. Smut to come in later chapters but you will have to bear with it!

CW: mentions of dom drop and brief mentions of BDSM world, angst, angry Spencer, a few swears.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

WC: 3K

—————————————————————

Chapter 6 - Carefully

Intoxicating,

My insecurities don’t take vacations.

So, babe, if you think you can handle me,

Please handle me carefully.

I found Dahlia in the round table room with Penelope, Tara and Rossi. She wasn’t crying anymore, she was staring numbly at the wall.

“She hasn’t said anything, just keeps staring at the wall.” Rossi whispered to me as I arrived with Stella in tow.

“What the fuck did JJ say to her?” I hissed at Emily.

“I don’t really know.” Emily shrugged. “I’ve sent her home to cool off.”

I sighed loudly, still clenching my jaw to the point it was aching.

I stepped into the room and was awash with emotions but none of them were good.

My body flooded with anger, at whom I wasn’t sure. But I knew it was going to find its way out as soon as I opened my mouth.

“Can you not keep it together for an hour while I go home and change?”

My words made her snap her gaze away from the wall and her eyes landed on me.

“W-what?” her lip quivered.

“Do I seriously have to babysit you every second of the day?”

“Reid!” Garcia scalded me but I ignored her.

“Seriously, I haven’t had a minute's peace since she arrived here. Your asshole boyfriend isn’t worth crying over sweetheart.”

“Spencer!” Stella grabbed me by my shoulder a little roughly. “Stop it!”

“I-I don’t understand.” Y/N started crying and Garcia put her arm around the fragile woman.

“Understand this, you are a pain in-“

“Spencer!” Stella cut me off. “With me, now.” She grabbed my arm and tugged me with her while the others watched in confusion as she dragged me out of the room.

“Spencer, you know what this is right?” She spoke once we were out of earshot of everyone.

“This is work Stella, that’s what it is.” I folded my arms.

“No Spencer, this is a Dom drop. Do you remember when we first started this? You explained it to me. The signs, what to look out for.”

“So there’s also a thing called Dom drop that you should be aware of.”

“There’s a lot to this.” Stella laughed a little. “Ok shoot Doc.”

“It’s a sensation of restlessness, depression, guilt and anger and can last a few hours after a scene. I might become despondent and try to push you away. I might even become hyper aggressive. I need you to know in case that ever happens.” I explained to her.

“Ok.” She nodded. “So what do I need to do if you experience this?”

“Well there are a few things…”

“This isn’t that. I’m just pissed off.” I shook my head in denial.

“Spencer Reid,” she put her hands on my shoulders. “You are experiencing Dom drop and I am here for you. If you need to talk or anything I am here.”

She moved behind me, her hands still on my shoulders and she started massaging them.

“It’s ok Spence, play is over. You can let go. You can relax.”

“Can I?” I grumbled, closing my eyes and trying to focus on the feel of her hands on my shoulders.

“Yes, you can. You did nothing wrong. It was just a scene, you are nothing like him.”

I always thought Stella had the ability to read my mind. This felt like proof.

“You need to come down, Pony. Come back to reality. Come back to me.”

What had I done? How could I yell at Y/N like that? She was already terrified and I’d just made everything ten times worse.

“What was that?”

When I opened my eyes Tara was in front of me, eyebrows raised.

“What was that?” she repeated as Stella let go of my shoulders, but stayed close.

“I don’t know.” I admitted. “I don’t know. God, I need to apologize to her.” I rushed away from the two women and back towards the round table room.

Rossi was crouched beside her, trying to calm her while Garcia had her arm around her.

“Dahlia,” I approached with caution. But the damage was done.

She whimpered, shuffling behind Garcia to shield me from her.

“Dahlia, I am so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I’m going to talk for her.” Garcia growled at me. She had never spoken to me like that before. “You crossed a line, Reid, a huge line. She trusted you to take care of her and you ruined that. She doesn’t want to talk to you. She doesn’t want to see you.”

I looked at Y/N over Garcia’s shoulder but she wouldn’t make eye contact with me. I didn’t blame her.

“We found Hawthorne.” Rossi spoke up now.

“What?” I gasped a little.

“He’s in custody. We found him while you were...doing whatever it is that you were doing at home.” Rossi looked disappointed in me.

“I was showering and grabbing a change of clothes.” my words didn’t sound convincing.

“Funny seeing as you were wearing that when you left.” Garcia scoffed. “And you smell worse than you did a few hours ago.”

“Y/N is going home.” Rossi spoke again before I had a chance to defend myself. “I suggest you do the same too, kid. Sleep off whatever this is.”

“Y/N, please,” I ignored him. “Please let me explain.”

She whimpered again. She was afraid of me. She was afraid of me the same way she was afraid of Brett. It tore apart my chest. The way she was cowering away from me was like a knife cutting me open, exposing my insides to the world. But I had no one to blame but myself.

I knew if I tried to force my apology on her I would only make her more frightened so I retreated, knowing in the long run it was for the best.

I stepped aside, clearing a space for Rossi and Garcia to lead her from the room, like two mismatched bodyguards.

As she passed she made the briefest of eye contact with me, long enough so I could see what my words had done to her. She didn’t trust easily, that much was evident. But she’d trusted me, and I’d thrown it back in her face.

I’d only ever wanted to make her smile. But somehow I had done the complete opposite. And I wondered if that would ever stop hurting.

///

It went to show how little I had really gotten to know Doctor Reid when he spoke to me like that. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I certainly shouldn’t have been as upset as I was about it.

I’d spent less than a week with him and somehow managed to fool myself that I knew him.

I would wonder how someone could hide the real version of themselves so well if I hadn’t just found out I’d spent eleven years of my life with a serial killer.

Nothing surprised me now. So I wasn’t shocked by Doctor Reid’s outburst. I was upset, I scared, I was confused; but not surprised.

Maybe this was just the way things were going to be now, people were going to constantly let me down.

That’s just great. That’s just what I need.

It felt like I’d been away from my house for years. Nothing had changed, it was all as I’d left it. But everything was different.

I feel like a stranger in these walls. It was as though I’d never stepped foot in this house in my life until this second.

Nothing was different than it had been a few days ago, only everything was different. And it would never be the same again.

I didn’t even turn on the lights, didn’t make it past the living room.

The events of the last few days came crumbling down on me. My fiancé was a serial killer. My fiancé had been killing women for five years and I’d been none the wiser.

How? How could that be possible? Had I really buried my head so far in the sand I hadn’t seen the signs?

My legs gave out under the weight of it all and I collapsed on the floor, tears streaming down my face.

And I started to scream. There was so much pent up inside of me and it seemed the only way to let it out.

So I screamed and I cried. Then I cried and I screamed. And even when my tear ducts felt dry and my throat was raw I cried and I screamed some more.

///

“We need to talk about what happened.” I was halfway to my bedroom when Stella stopped me with her words.

I sighed loudly.

“Not now Stella. I need to sleep off this god awful day. I don’t have any talk in me.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “You don’t want to talk fine. But you are damn sure going to listen.”

She took hold of me by my wrist and pulled me to the couch which didn’t take a lot of effort on her part because I was too exhausted to fight.

“You are a good person Spencer Reid, one of the best in fact.” She took hold of my hands. “You are nothing like that man, nothing do you hear me? You are kind and you are sweet. You always take care of me, a cruel man wouldn’t do that. You always make sure I’m ok above all else. I know this is scary for you because you’ve never experienced a drop before but we both knew it was always a possibility. It was a momentary state Spencer, it does not define you as a person.”

“She trusted me,” I snatched my hands out of hers. “She trusted me, she opened up to me and I completely fucking shattered that in the space of five minutes.”

Stella squeezed my knee, giving me a sympathetic smile.

“It was out of your control, Spence.”

“That’s the worst part.” I shook my head sadly.

Just then my phone started to ring and I considered just ignoring it because I was exhausted. But I knew I couldn’t.

With a large sigh I put the device to my ear.

“Reid.” I held my breath. There couldn’t be another case already, surely? “What? No, I’m glad you called. I’ll head right over.”

I was already up and heading to the door before I hung up the phone.

“What’s going on?” Stella was frowning at me. “You don’t have to go back to Quantico do you?”

“No, not Quantico.” I grabbed my bag. “I’ll explain later, ok?”

She gave me a look as though she was going to press it but she didn’t.

“Just be careful, yeah?”

I smiled softly at her and nodded.

“I always am.”

***

The house seemed quiet by the time I arrived and all the lights were off.

I know she wouldn’t want to see me, I was the last person she would want to see, but I had to make sure she was ok.

I knocked quietly on the door hoping not to startle her. But there was no answer. I tried one more time but again she didn’t answer.

So I tried the handle. To my surprise the door was unlocked. I suppose after spending years locked in she wasn’t in a hurry to repeat that.

“Y/N?” I called out into the dark as I entered, hand on the butt of my gun ready to draw it, just in case. “Y/N? It’s me, Spencer.”

I heard a sniffling followed by, “go a-away I don’t want you h-here.”

I followed the voice and found her sitting in the corner of the room with her back against the wall and her knees pulled up to her chest.

The moonlight seeped in through the open curtains and I could see the tear stains on her cheeks.

“Dahlia?” I removed my hand from my holstered weapon.

“Please g-go away. You are the last p-person I want to see.” She wouldn’t make eye contact with me. We’d gone back to square one.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Why are you h-here?” She tried to sound angry but she only sounded broken.

“Your neighbours called the police, they heard screaming. Emily heard about it and called me. She thought it would be better for me to come than the cops.”

“I don’t want you here.”

I noticed then she was picking at the stitches on her wrist.

I dropped to the floor next to her and took hold of her elbow, guiding her arm away from her fidgeting fingers.

She flinched a little at my touch and it shattered me.

“You’ll hurt yourself.”

“So?” She sniffed. “P-please leave.”

She shuffled away from me, the fear evident in her eyes.

She was scared of me. It killed me, but I knew it was my own fault.

“I am so, so sorry for what I said to you and how I acted Dahlia. The last thing I ever wanted to do was scare you.”

“I t-trusted you. You knew what h-he did to me.”

I wanted to reach for her, to hold her but I didn’t want to scare her more.

“Y/N, I’m not that man, I swear.” I was desperate not to cry, but the guilt was consuming me. “I hate that you’re scared of me now.”

“L-leave then. I’ll feel b-better if you leave.”

“I can’t in good conscience leave you like this.”

She still refused to look at me. I knew I was going to have to be straight with her.

“Look Dahlia, this is by no means a good excuse for the way I acted but you need to know why I reacted like that.” I sighed. “I suppose the simplest way to put it is I’m into BDSM. Stella, the woman who was with me, is my submissive and she has been for years. Just before I came back to Quantico we had done a scene. And for the first time I was experiencing what is known as a Dom drop. It’s when your mind can’t quite accept a scene is over and you get stuck in this dominant state. The man that yelled at you was someone I usually leave in the bedroom. I didn’t have a chance to properly adjust afterwards. Like I say, it’s not an excuse, it’s just what happened.”

Finally she turned to look at me.

Her face was a picture of confusion which I anticipated. People found it hard to understand the lifestyle.

“I don’t understand.”

I nodded, knowing I needed to elaborate.

“During a scene the body is releasing dopamine which is giving this high and as soon as the scene is over there is this sudden drop in hormones. During a scene our bodies tap into our sugar content, which leads to lower sugar levels which can make us feel irritable. Also the release of oxytocin can be accompanied by vasopressin which induces feelings of possession and territoriality. Does that make sense? I was in an altered state. It wasn’t me. I mean it was me, but it wasn’t me.” I was rambling, my words coming out faster than I was sure she could process them.

“Regardless of chemicals, you hurt me Spencer. You scared me. I t-trusted you.”

“I know I did Dahlia, and I am so, so sorry.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” she chewed her lip with a frown.

And I could have lied to her, but I didn’t.

“During the Victorian era, Dahlia flowers symbolised a lasting bond or a lifelong commitment between two people. In the present day they are a symbol to commemorate something new. Meeting you was something my mind wanted to mark and I don’t know what it is but as soon as I laid eyes on you I knew I was bound to you. In what way I’m not sure. But Dahlia just seemed fitting.” I probably sounded crazy, but I wasn’t going to lie to her. I would never lie to her.

“You’re a very interesting man Spencer.” she replied, making me chuckle a little.

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

She mused on this for a moment, I’m not sure if she was trying to make me stew or not. Either way it was working.

“I’m not sure forgiven is the right word. But I do appreciate your honesty. You know, you remind me of the Seeker from the book.” Then she gave me the slightest hint of a smile.

And I knew more than ever that I was most certainly bound to this woman.

///

Spencer stayed with me for several hours, sitting on the floor in the dark side by side.

We mostly discussed Wizard's First Rule now I was finished reading it and he was telling me about the rest of the books in the series.

I hung off his every word. I meant it when I said he was interesting although fascinating would have been a better linguistic choice. He spoke with passion no matter the subject and it enthralled me.

By the time he stood from the floor and helped me up, the sun was starting to rise.

“Take my number.” He fished his card out of his satchel and handed it to me. “In case you ever need anything. Even if it’s just for the next book.”

I nodded slightly, taking the card although I wasn’t sure I would ever use it.

“What do you think you’ll do now?” He asked me as I walked him to the door.

“I honestly don’t know. I have a lot of things to process before I can even start thinking about rebuilding my life.” I opened the door for him, it was still a new experience being able to open my own front door.

“Well if you ever need help processing…” he trailed off as he stepped out onto the porch.

“Thanks.” I nodded.

We held each other's gaze for several long seconds. There seemed to be so much unsaid between us in those moments.

Some many words passed subconsciously between us, all the things we were both too afraid to say out loud.

But I knew he understood me. And I understood him.

After a little while he gave me a thoughtful smile.

“Well, goodbye Dahlia.”

“Goodbye Seeker.”

—————————————————————

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#spencer reid #spencer reid fancfiction #dr spencer reid #dr spencer reid fanfiction #david rossi #penelope garcia #tara lewis #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x y/n

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mx-barnes · 3 years

Text

Soulmate Au 2/?

Bucky x F!Reader

Summary: When you turn 18 you get the name of a song on your wrist. That is the song you and your soulmate share. It is also how you can communicate with them.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: None really.

A/N: Sorry I know it’s short. I have been experiencing a lack of ambition to write. I also felt like I had a duty to post something cause I haven’t posted in a while. Ok I also know the song wasn’t out in the forties but idc ok it’s an amazing song and it reminds me of Bucky and if I am having trouble sleeping I listen to it. Feedback appreciated. All my own writing. Gif not my own

Chapter 1 Masterlist

The alarm clock on your end table reads 6:30 am 30 minutes from before your alarm is supposed to wake you up. It’s not that you didn’t welcome the fact that you were up early than usual but you silently curse yourself hoping to fall back into the pleasant dream you were having. Although you had wanted to meet him in real life, not just the dream world you knew that it wouldn’t happen. If he had stayed hidden from you for this long don’t think you are going to find him in a day. You wish you just had something to go off of. Pulling you out of your thoughts is your cat needling into you. Although he was annoying Alpine loved you. You remember the day you got him. It was soaking rain and you had found a box on the side of the road. You decide to pull over to pick up the garbage lying around on the ground. You pull over the road and go to lift up the box and it was unusually heavy you check inside. To your surprise, there was a small white kitten looking at you with blue eyes. From that day on he was the only man in your life he probably senses that your soulmate is in the picture now so he is being an even bigger attention whore.

You may want to go back to the dream realm but your adult life calls. You roll out of your bed and wrap a small blanket you had at the end of your bed because although you had to get up it didn't mean you didn't have to be warm. You treck your way out of your bedroom and into the kitchen. With your blanket draped over your shoulders you silently make your breakfast. A simple bowl of cheerios. Nothing too extravagant but a simple meal. People may say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day but you have always disagreed with that statement. Give you some coffee and you are good to go. Although that was very particularly healthy you started eating actual food at breakfast. Once you finished your bowl you put it in your sink to be later washed. You walk back into your bedroom and enter your bathroom. You strip and step into the shower. Ket the warm water flows down around your back as you listen to music and sing along. Quietly f course even though you wanted to scream the lyrics. Once you had finished your shower you exited wrapped in a towel and changed.

Slipping into a white low v cut shirt and some beige pants. Walking back into the bathroom quickly dry and straighten your hair leaving just a little bit of wave because you can't fully straighten it. You pull your hair back into a high ponytail leaving two pieces out to frame your face. Quickly, you grab your purse, phone, and keys. Turning to wake towards the door you lock the door and leave to work.

It wasn't a long drive to your job. You worked at Stark Industries. It wasn't the same after Tony died but you still appreciated working there. You and Pepper had become quick friends after bumping into each other in the hallways one day. You were ecstatic for her when she got promoted to CEO. Almost as her first act, she had you instated as her assistant. She gave you fair hours and you didn't mind. There wasn't ever any awkwardness in be between the two of you. Pepper never acted like she was better than you and thank god for that. She was one of the best people you knew she was having a hard time dealing with Tony's death but that was understandable. She had lost her husband and became a single mother. She had the avengers and Happy but it wasn't the same. She had offered for you to meet them time and time again but every time you declined. It's not that you didn't want to meet them. It's just sometimes it's better to never meet your heroes.

By the time you got to the office Pepper was already locked away in her office. You knocked lightly on the door.

"Come in," a voice from behind the door says.

You walk in and notice Pepper sitting at her desk as she normally does but her cheeks are tear stained and her eyes are red. "Hey, you are not supposed to be here before me. You should be at home with Morgan."

"Happy has her. I just couldn't be in that house anymore. Hell, I can't even be in New York without thinking about him. He saved this city. He saved the world. I know that it's silly and selfish of me to hide away from my daughter but I just... I look at her Y/n and I see him. I see his smile, his curiosity, I see the playboy he was before he settled down. All I see is him in her and I-"

"Hey, we can get through this together. Me and you." You walked up to her and hugged her. She hugged you back her arms not letting go. You rub her back soothingly. "It's okay it's all gonna be ok."

"You're right. You're right I just got to get this done. Power through this. This feeling I am experiencing will pass."

You hesitate not knowing what to say. Finally, you figure you should tell her. "I saw him."

"Him? Who him?" She straightened up as she questioned.

"My soulmate. I don't know what made me. I was even planning on it but then I got this feeling that I should try it and well I saw him."

"What'd he say?"

"He said he was sorry. He was sorry but he couldn't love me first. I was desperate so I tried again the next night last night. He said..." You were on the verge of tears "He said he was sorry. That he didn't want to hurt me. That he would agree to see me. Only in the dream realm for right now but it's better than nothing. God, he was gorgeous. His eyes sparkled like ice. I just wish I wish I could prove to him how much I love him even if he doesn't want to let me in. I want him to know he deserves all the love in the world.”

“Y/n you got to tell him. You remember how I was when I found out that my boss was my soulmate,” Pepper's eyes dropped sadness filling her eyes. “Listen it doesn’t matter how cold it closed off he seems you need to make the decision if you want to keep him in your life. If all he wants is the dream world then you move on you’ve got to be the one to make the first move.”

“Your right. I should be allowed to be happy.”

<~>

You were a dream come true. After he pushed you away from you you accepted gratefully back into your arms.

Bucky would spend the rest of his life making it up to you. He couldn’t believe his luck. Back in the 40s when he first tried he couldn’t find you then he was shipped off to war so he decided not to try again just encase but here he was almost 80 years later with this gorgeous soulmate. God, he was a sap. He was ready to change for you.

He had told you that you couldn’t meet him yet and that he only could see you in the dream realm for right now. He knew it was the right call even if it hurt him. Even if he wanted to hold you in the real world but he couldn’t not yet. He needed to fix himself before he let you in. He couldn’t let his past hurt you. You were far too important to him. That’s what he did.

He started taking his court-mandated therapy seriously. He needed help and he couldn’t do it on his own. So when he went to meet you that night he told you about it. He went over to his record player and search for the record. Finally, he found it. A picture of Harry James on the cover he slid the disk out of its paper case. Carefully get placed on the record player and dropped the needle. He knew there were better ways to play the song but he found comfort playing it on vinyl like he had many many years ago.

He practically ran back to his little spot on the floor where he slept and slowly the feeling of falling began to happen.

Once the feeling stopped he looked around to find his childhood home once again. He called out still a bit queasy “Hello,”

No response. That was weird. So he called out once again “Hello,”

Again no response he started to panic. Maybe you didn’t come tonight. Maybe you decide he wasn’t worth it.

A voice broke the anxiety building. “Hey, sorry it took me a bit longer today.”

“Yeah no that’s fine I understand.” He smiles slightly.

“So how was your day?” You asked. God, there was something so intoxicating about your voice. It was smooth and angelic. He could listen to it for the rest of his life.

“I mean it was good. I decided to start taking my therapy more seriously I want to get better for you. How was yours?”

“That’s great. My day was ok I guess I mean I was real busy at work.” You moved closer to him his heart picked up.

“Yeah, yeah I guess it good,” Bucky stuttered. I mean you were incredibly gorgeous but he felt safe in your presence not wanting to lose a second of time with you. Slowly his head started spinning and being brought back to reality “Listen I don’t have much time left we meet here again same time tomorrow. Deal?” His voice hopefully searching your eyes for any sign of rejection to his great fortune there wasn’t any.

“Deal.” you stepped up closer to him kissing him on the lips before he was rudely pulled back into reality. He sat up with a start (like gif).

Groaning and grumbling about how it was too soon to be pulled out of and if he only had more time with you.

Chapter 3

Taglist:

@oceanmermaidwitch

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #bucky fluff #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

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bangtan · 4 years

Text

BTS: Variety Cover

The K-pop group BTS is riding a global wave of popularity to new heights. The seven members — Jung Kook (real name: Jeon Jung-kook), V (Kim Tae-hyung), Jimin (Park Ji-min), j-hope (Jung Ho-seok), RM (Kim Nam-joon), Suga (Min Yoon-gi) and Jin (Kim Seok-jin) — have taken the world by storm, drawing comparisons to The Beatles.

RM on singing in English on “Dynamite”:

“When we first listened to the ‘Dynamite’ demo, I actually tried different titles or lyrics in Korean. I tried to write some rap on that track, but nothing worked out really well. So, ok, well, why not keep it this way? Let’s give it a shot! It’s 2020, why not do some crazy things?”

Jungkook on singing in English on “Dynamite”:

“It was an unfamiliar experience to record and sing this song in English. We had to practice the pronunciation a lot to try and make sure that the feel and emotions of the lyrics were really reflected when we sang it. We translated the lyrics into Korean and read them very carefully. We thought about what they meant in Korean as we recorded them into English.”

j-hope on singing in English on “Dynamite”:

“Pop music in English is really what we grew up listening to. English songs are not something unfamiliar to us — we are used to them. But the feelings that go into writing songs in English is very different from what goes into writing them in Korean, so this was still something new. It required a lot of work, especially on the pronunciation, and a lot of practice.”

Suga on whether there will be English songs on their next album:

“‘Dynamite’ was a special case. You can’t predict what will happen and the things we do. We can’t say for certain what we’ll do in the future. Things change, circumstances change. If we see that there’s a good enough reason to do something — record in English or something else — then we’ll go ahead with that decision.”

Jin on going global:

“We just made music that we liked and that people liked in Korea, and then people outside of Korea began to like it — in the same way that we hear pop songs from outside of Korea and enjoy them too. We never made a conscious effort to spread globally. I think it sort of happened organically; this connection happened on its own. Can other groups or people enjoy the same kind of success? I’m sure it’s possible.”

Jimin on growing as artists and writing their own music:

“I really love our songs and the style of BTS songs. I’ve been trying to work on my personal music, but haven’t really put something out yet. What I’m trying to do now is learn from the other members and try new things that are in the style of BTS, which I really love. I’d like to release and create my own music.”

V on growing as artists and writing their own music:

“When I was much younger, I listened to a lot of top hits and songs that the other members recommended to me. I often felt that it would’ve been great if I’d written those songs myself. I’m trying very hard so that I can one day write one of those great songs and feel that sense of pride.”

#bangtan #bts #rm #jin #suga #jhope #jimin #v #jungkook #t:interview #200930

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4dtk · 4 years

Text

stuck with you

pairing: enemy!journalist!haechan x journalist!reader

genre: angst, fluff, humour, enemies to lovers (hope i did the trope justice tbh TT)

warnings: cursing, f words lmao, i mention stranger things a lot in this??? mainly bc i just finished watching it w a friend. i also only use ‘haechan’ when narrating the story so i don’t get confused! the timeline for this is Very Weird as well bc like i didn’t consider how long a pandemic would last…… so Uhm. pls just excuse the weird ass time sequence. also referenced yangyang’s bastard child behaviour from dream plan where he packs his things messily and kun had to mf intervene and yangyang had the audacity to go like “see, this is how u get ppl to pack for you, now i don’t have to do anything” 💀

word count: 8k (a headache to proofread...)

A/N: first time trying an e2l trope and im not sure if it was done ok??? i didn't want it to feel too rushed so i tried to spread out the days as much as i could!! i also included small snippets of their life w the other so it won’t seem like the fic is just focusing on the e2l concept! was inspired tons by the lyrics of stuck with u by ariana grande and jb, so that song is definitely something you can listen to if you read this! hope you enjoy ^^

[day 1]

"you're insufferable," you groan, reluctantly handing over the remote control for the hotel's television after some unsuccessful scrolling.

hotels never exactly had much range anyway.

you were very much already dreading the time ahead with the male, sadly having been stuck in quarantine not even half a day with haechan.

offering to go to a neighbouring country to report on the rising covid-19 situation, you didn't expect your rival to tag along, no doubt seeking to craft up a better story than you would.

and so, you were now nudging the remote control into his waiting palm with a roll of your eyes. you hoped it emphasised your annoyance with him even a little, standing up to prepare a cup of tea before bed.

"are you going to keep watching television while i sleep?" you ask a genuine question, peeking at him through the mirror of the vanity that sat outside the bathroom.

he just shrugs with a tired sigh, turning his attention back to the cartoon playing in front of him.

"okay, well, keep to your side of the bed and i'll stay in mine. we need to be social distancing, anyway."

there's a hint of "okay, loser" mumbled under his breath, but you pay it no thought as you finish your tea and brush your teeth before you skillfully set up a fortress made out of pillows.

"ow! what the hell?"

"your leg was in the way, jeez! move it, and i'll stop annoying you," you said, putting up the last of your requested pillows beside where haechan currently sat.

taking one last glance at haechan, you wondered when the lockdown in your country would last before they start letting people fly in. for now, you were trapped with the nightmare himself in a sad hotel room, with only a bed to share.

"goodnight," he tells you, but the sardonic way he says it irks you to the point where you settle for silence instead. the only thing that drones on are the voices of the cartoon, soon fading as you feel into a dreamless sleep.

[day 4]

"this virus thing is probably driving me insane by day, and you, lee haechan, are adding on to it!"

"no headlines, no idea what style to write in, minimal pictures-" the doorbell to the hotel room interrupts your current rant, prompting you to storm off to answer the call with an annoyed look.

"what now?" taken aback by your quick response, the housekeeping girl retracts with downturned eyebrows and a voice hesitant to speak. your roommate comes to the rescue almost immediately when he's heard the commotion.

you watch as he sends her a smile and a wink, deflating when he's let her in to clean up the room. you're not sure why you can't keep your eyes off the both of them as they converse, blaming it mostly on your hatred for the male.

with the last of her duties fulfilled, you offer to help her with the cleaning supplies as an apology, but she cuts you off almost immediately. there's a linger in her step, however, as she walks the short hallway to the door, evident in wanting haechan to send her off as he received her.

turning back to call him, he holds up a hand as he types down his opening lines to an article, prompting you to shoot the housekeeper girl another apologetic look.

"sorry again," you mumble, letting out a sigh at how this was all playing out. day four and you were already making enemies with the hotel crew.

"maybe day forty-one is where i fall in love with lee haechan," you scoffed, perhaps listing down all the unfortunate things that could happen while you were in quarantine.

one of them was catching feelings for your rival.

rolling your eyes, you settled on the bed to catch a few Zs as he continued to work on his article, though you weren't exactly sure about the weight your words held.

[day 9]

"haechan, what is this?" you ask with an eyebrow raised, his dirty boxers barely hanging off your finger.

haechan only groans at that, knowing you were relentless in the laundry. even in a pandemic, he was sure you'd prioritise your clothes first.

"jesus! don't go picking up my underwear just like that!" he snatches it from you, folding it neatly and placing it next to where his luggage sat. unfortunately, yours was right beside his.

"you think just because you're doing the laundry you're able to look through a man's prized possessions-!"

your jaw drops, "it was near the sink, haechan! i don't want to look at the checkered pattern on your boxers when i brush my teeth. i don't want it near my face either."

haechan groans yet again, running a hand through his hair in frustration before turning back to the computer, a blank document opened up in front of him.

despite gathering findings, interviewing healthcare workers and serving the public alongside frontline staff, he had deleted every attempt at writing.

there's a rumble from the bathroom, perhaps from your upset stomach or the choked pipe, but sometimes they sounded too similar he couldn't tell it apart. haechan stifles a laugh when there's a "fuck!" echoing behind the door, though unsure if he should help you or not.

when haechan hears another crash, he comes running without hesitation with a face morphed into furrowed eyebrows and a tilt of the head.

"don't just stand there, you moron!"

haechan snaps out of his daze to assist you off the floor, swiftly helping you even more off the floor as he carries you to the bed with a stiff one arm. you notice his other hand hanging awkwardly, probably not knowing what to do with it before you feel the soft sheets under your butt.

he gets to work within a minute, fishing for an ointment and some bandages his mother forced him to bring. he remembers it as he always has: a caring mother looking out for her son, maybe a little too much sometimes.

haechan is thankful for his mother, now, for the stray bandages laying around in his pouch.

you watch in silence as he cleans the cut with alcohol, wincing when his hand hadn't even touched your skin.

"my hand isn't even on your skin yet! jeez, calm down."

you shake your head, holding onto his bicep to halt his arm, "just use water, please."

exhaling in exasperation, you wonder if you've pissed him off tenfold when he leaves for the bathroom with a side-eyed glance, though not hostile.

"problematic," haechan whispers, dabbing a wet cloth over the wound carefully before applying the ointment and securing the bandages.

"your words contradict your actions so much, haechan. i never know what you're thinking." sighing, you pull your leg away from his hold after he's done with the bandages, making your way to the bathroom and leaving him in his thoughts.

"why do you want to know?"

haechan gets silence; the lock of the bathroom audibly turns to signal another wall put up between the two of you. with another frustrated groan, the boy plops down on the chair to work on his article with the right words forming in his mind.

even if he was the one who asked, he wasn't sure if he was ready to tell you.

[day 13]

"stranger things is freaking me the fuck out, man!" haechan whispered, ignoring your pleads and groans to continue writing.

"haechan! give me the damn laptop! i don't even know why you brought an HDMI cable when it doesn't work with the television system here!"

"well, we got one that matches it, didn't we?" he said, eyes peeled to the screen that showed the young boy, will, in the upside-down.

"you mean you did!" you shoved him, ready to disconnect the devices before haechan held you back, clearly entranced by the next sequence of eleven being able to see will in a pool of salt.

"ugh, god, i don't even know why people watch the show!" you spill with sourness, knowing the show was praised for its excellent acting and writing.

haechan raises an eyebrow, turning to you with a strangely slow speed.

"stranger things have received multiple awards, and you didn't give any other reason. are you scared?"

when you struggle to find words, haechan laughs at his revelation, hiding his pearly whites behind his hand as he continues to make fun of you.

"yeah yeah, i'm scared! so what?"

"'oh haechan! oh no~ i'm terrified, would you care to provide some comfort?' jeez, don't worry, man, i'll protect you." there's a cheeky glimmer in his eyes and a cocky smirk on his face which you very much want to wipe off with the disinfectant in the toilet.

"it's not all that bad, c'mon! give it a-" turning back to the tv, the sudden attack of the demogorgon lashing out at the camera has the male screaming, hiding behind your body in fear.

"you were saying, mr superman?" you deadpan, unlatching his arms around your waist as you sink deeper into the sheets with your phone in hand.

[day 17]

haechan thrashes in his sleep, almost knocking the wine glass you had in your hands when he crosses over the pillow barrier you made.

"what in the hell-" you winced, keeping an eye on the male should he have any more outbursts that would ruin both wine night and the stuff you were working on for the article.

with tipsy hands, your keyboard keys unconsciously write out a letter of disdain and confusion regarding haechan, the boy sleeping next to you with a cute drooling face and curly hair.

with beautiful tan skin like that, you wondered why he didn't model instead. with a voice as impressive as his, you wondered why he didn't sign a contract. with natural hosting capabilities, you wondered why didn't fucking get the place of a talk show host.

because man, he can get pretty bothersome sometimes.

[day 20]

the next few days pass by with a breeze.

despite not knowing how the current pandemic will turn out, you find haechan more bearable, his habits being dumped in the past with a wave of a hand.

petty arguments occur, of course, until one of you brushes off the matter like nothing.

today was one of the days you won't back down.

there's worry evident on your face, eyes scanning through every last document on the stupid laptop. fingers travel fast over the keyboard as the realisation slowly dawns on you.

with slumped shoulders, you take a deep breath before turning to the male.

"what do you mean you accidentally deleted my article? i know we're sharing the damn laptop, but we established that you stay on your files and i stay on mine."

the other waved his hand, "i did not touch any of your files, (y/n), i'm not sure what happened."

"how could you not know? what the hell? i had good content on it, but now i have to spend more hours reorganising the news and interview answers and everything else in my notes. thanks, lee haechan."

"maybe if you weren't so caught up in me trying to sabotage your place in the publication team, then you would've believed me." he shrugged, taking a seat on the one bed like nothing.

you scoffed, arms crossing across your body. "funny how you mention sabotage because a villain never reveals their motive. that's why you came with me, didn't you?"

haechan stuck his tongue out to the side of his mouth, eyes blinking and rolling like an 8-ball that it sickened you to the core.

"villain? i'm the villain?"

"was i not clear?" you hiss, stepping closer to the male.

"no, make it more precise, please. i wanna hear it word for word. spit it out, coward."

with every word, you plunged your finger into his chest, looking deep into his eyes. "you're set out to take my place for department editor, where you know i'm best at."

"and that department would be...?" he crossed his arms, looking down at you with scorn you wished you could slap off his face.

"the..." you gulp with his face all up in yours, eyes boring as he awaits your answer, no doubt losing confidence at your realisation.

"the world depart...ment? you love to travel, right?" you trail off, biting your lip in anxiety when you remember how he was on the plane. you don't exactly remember whether he was more excited or scared.

"wrong! try again."

"politics?" you propose.

haechan's face contorts into disbelief, with his mouth twisted with perplex and eyebrows furrowed. "me? politics?"

your mouth runs dry at the roadblock you've faced, and as that annoying, stupid smirk grows, your hatred for him increases by the charts.

"naming departments i'd rather die than join, running your mouth, accusing me of deleting your files..." haechan shakes his head dramatically, rolling his eyes and letting out a fat sigh.

"you think i wanna be stuck here with your infuriating ass? god, you're so entitled, aren't you? aren't you?!"

"talking like you own the place, talking like you're the only one in this world, talking like- mhfh-"

within three angry steps, you were across the room.

within three booming steps, your hands were on his face.

within three significant steps, you were kissing lee haechan.

"you never learn to shu..." with horror, you're brought back from the trance with widened eyes.

"oh, god, sorry. what. what the hell. what the fuck?" you whisper, pushing the boy away with both hands in a panic, trying to highlight your scorn for him by wiping your lips on your sleeve.

had you liked it?

the other scurried to the balcony in a frenzy while you collected yourself in the bathroom, although no amount of water could calm your nerves.

with shaky words in bed, you both agreed to never talk about it again.

[day 25]

"hey, i can see your damn annotations on my article, (y/n). will you stop it?" haechan whines, making you second guess if he was joking or not.

for the nth time that day, you roll your eyes and proceed to sip from your cup of gin tonic that haechan desperately wanted you to try. it was... a refreshing taste, but hell, you wouldn't drink this even if it was the last beverage on earth.

"i'm just giving my feedback, be thankful i didn't bring up that stupid kiss five days ago. bleugh."

haechan falls quiet at that, fingers lingering over the keyboard as he typed out some note with the speed of a sloth's.

"hey, call me donghyuck. that's my actual name," he mumbles, glancing at you through his bangs while he awaits your reply.

"donghyuck? is haechan an alias?"

the boy shrugs, "i don't know, maybe. my friends gave it to me when i was younger, and i just stuck with it."

"full sun? your friend gave it to you, sure." you grin with a gesture of your hand, almost spilling the gin in the clear glass before breaking into small laughter with the other.

[day 28]

"hey! hey, what the hell?" you whisper, feeling the boy huddle up to you in lightning speed.

"what is wrong with you?" you whisper-shout, nudging him off your body as his phone screen remains as the only thing illuminating his face.

"sorry, i- i was watching stranger things while i was shitting and after i cleaned up... i heard something and bolted out of there."

"so now you're butt naked? hyuck, ew!" you groan, thankful for the sheets that were covering your body and his junk. his reluctance to get off you didn't seem to bother you as much as earlier, but you still wished he wasn't literally naked against you.

"go put on your underwear, you big baby. i'll be here when you come out. no demogorgon is going to come out, for real."

"no no, i was watching season two and it was that big shadow thingy that freaked me out. can't you feel this poor boy shivering?" haechan sighed, eyes never leaving the corridor that led to the bathroom.

"i can, and i also can feel your dick. please get dressed, or you're sleeping on the floor," you mumble, pulling the sheets to cover your freezing body.

[day 31]

your face hits something soft, cuddling into it even further because of its warmth before you realise there was only one other thing that would be warm in the room.

haechan.

your breath shakes, and your eyes widen as you pull yourself away from his embrace. your subtle movement leaves him thrashing around, though, and his arms tighten around your figure slowly and endearingly.

gulping, you will your hands to stay in their place, opting to freeze to death although there are hints of heat crawling onto your face.

when you wake up, you find that his hand's in yours and maybe you were searching for one wrong thing. an anomaly, an exception. it fit in yours perfectly, however, his tanned skin glowing lightly under the rays of sun filtering through the curtains.

you hoped he didn't realise the small shift of your fingers as they enclosed around his hand.

[day 32]

"what are you doing out here?" haechan asked quietly, peeking around the sliding door before joining you on the chilly balcony. it wasn't much, but it was still different and refreshing from the old, stagnant aircon air that was blowing in the hotel room.

"can't sleep," you whisper. you had your arms around your figure cautiously, as if it could protect you from all the bad, evil and terror in the world. at this point, you weren't sure what was it that you were feeling, but it sure didn't involve entertaining haechan's teasing.

luckily, he bit his tongue from making the usual snarky remarks.

"it's two in the morning, what's up?"

you shake your head in reply, watching the empty streets as the last light in the apartment across you switches off. sure, at two in the morning, pavements were dusty clean, and the birds were sleeping, but there would always be younger boys smoking along the road, or a drunken group of friends laughing about a past memory.

now that the pandemic forced everyone into their homes, everything was pretty much dead. there wasn't that excitement you felt when you saw a late-night kiss shared between two lovers or the snug hug of a child to his father who was working overtime that day.

"nothing's up, hyuck, it's fine. you can get back to sleep if you want."

maybe today you two were the one causing the ruckus this time, though. haechan may have let his words slipped, and at that moment, you knew you regretted that bloom in your chest when his lips met yours.

"you're so hard to read, (y/n). i want you to be able to trust me, tell me what's going on."

"why do you wanna know anyway? so you can expose me of my bad habits and weak points?" you whisper, eyes trained on the flickering lamppost a few yards away.

"there you go again! again with the sabotage?" haechan scoffed, exiting the small space and stepping back into the room of mixed emotions.

"is this just about your feelings for me?"

haechan laughed, "my feelings? might i remind you that you were the one who kissed me full on the lips twelve days ago? what was that all about? i wanna talk about it, even though we said we wouldn't! i wanna talk about why you hate me so much. i wanna talk about why your emotions are so contradictive!"

your mouth hangs open as you sputter out a heated reply, but instead gets interrupted with a knock on the door.

"keep quiet, you damn teenagers! i don't need your petty fights at two in the morning!" with padded feet, the guest returns to his room and slams the door to emphasise his complaint. swallowing, your mind goes blank as it focuses only on one question.

"why do you want to know so much lee haechan? what are you gaining out of this? if it's not sabotaging, then what is it?!" you whisper, standing your ground as with the first argument.

your throat is clenched up, and your fists are balled up tightly with nails digging into your palm. your heartbeat races like a fast car and your breathing's laboured in the cold room. there's no movement for a second, though they feel like minutes on end as haechan struggles to answer your question.

"what is it, lee donghyuck?" you cry out again, the sparkle in your eyes shining brightly from the tears of your never-ending dispute. he wished it was from the moonlight, instead. he wished the two of you were laughing over the rim of wine glasses and sharing the mischievous glimmer of the moon in your eyes.

"it's nothing. don't mind it." the other turns to catch up on sleep, leaving you to bite your lip.

"now you're doing it, now you're the one doing it. just tell me, you dumbass!" you mumble, pulling on his pyjama sleeve and tugging you to him.

"i like you, okay! it's out there now, i like you a lot, but you make it feel like a crime to do it," haechan whispers, "whatever. fuck this."

"no- what- no, we'll talk this out." you propose, adjusting your grip on his wrist with the curl of your fingers.

the male shakes his head and snatches his arm back, "no, forget it, and i'd prefer if you left me alone, (y/n)."

even with the warmth of his body next to yours, your body felt frozen and stiff. even with the thick duvet cover over you, you felt out of place in the stale hotel room, with colour becoming black and white, they merge into grey as the moonlight shone without a care for your problems.

there's action on the balcony when your eyes flutter open in the morning, noticing the quiet way haechan observes those rushing to work as well as social distancing officers making their rounds.

his eyes look hopeful and youthful, different from the tired ones the night before, or rather, this morning. you hadn't forgotten the angry neighbour banging on the door, and you definitely hadn't forgotten about how much you've wounded haechan this morning.

with a soft knock, you let him know of your presence and you just miss the way his eyes soften at your bed hair and messy appearance. his gaze turns hard in a second as he turns back to the apartment across yours, the balcony door showing your reflection of how hesitant you were.

haechan wished he could take your hands in his and accept your apology in a heartbeat, but he stayed seated and waited for whatever you wanted to say.

"don't run off, please." there's a shameful hand on his shoulders, and he's dying to get up when he sees your downcast eyes in the reflection across the street.

"i was too caught up in getting department head that i... didn't consider other possibilities. even the possibility of you uhm... liking me. it's still a weird concept to me, especially with how much we bicker."

"i'm sorry i didn't stay to hear out your feelings and rather, i just talked over you instead. i'm not sure if you want to accept this or not, but i want to open up—about this, about your feelings and... i don't know how much i've masked my emotions, i just know that we need to communicate."

the doorbell interrupts your apology, but you internally thank the housekeeping for bringing breakfast for the two of you.

with silence over breakfast, you weren't sure how the other felt as he scoffed down the croissant and almost burned his tongue with the coffee he ordered.

[day 33]

the boy barely watches the television and instead, reads over the article you were working on. seeing as it was already there when he logged on, he skimmed through it out of curiosity, finding that you were rephrasing the messy typos and sentences frantically on your notes.

haechan never forgot the way you were typing away on the laptop, eyes reading and rereading the sentences to make sure they made sense, to make sure they were clear to the reader.

the argument had taken a toll on you, too. he sees it in the way your eyes sink when your words turn out choppy and lacking, he sees it in the way you lug your body to the bathroom after a late night, he sees it in the way you struggle to hold your smile while attending an interview.

'haechan. you confuse me. i'm not...' the note below it trails off, piquing his curiosity at what it had in store.

'haechan.' big and bold letters it wrote, with a few dozen question marks below it. your writing skills shine through even in an informal note about your self-proclaimed rival, each line prompting the other to read more.

'you confuse me. i'm not sure what you're at but, it doesn't seem natural for you to tag along with someone you hate, right? that's what i was thinking too.'

'jeez, i remember hating when suyeon told me you were coming along. i didn't believe her one bit until she showed me your plane ticket and the hotel rooms next to each other. god, and when i came here, it was a day of interviewing before the damn government decided to close flights and force us into a room together.'

'i heard that other people had to be separated. i didn't know why we were the unlucky two that had to be put in a room together. i wished we didn't, almost. of course, you annoyed me when we first moved in. hogging the tv to no end, leaving your dirty underwear everywhere, running your mouth just like at our workplace.'

'i couldn't take it, maybe. sure, my brother has similar antics, but there was just something about you that just set me off, you know? i wouldn't have thought it was the opposite, or at least, i think so.'

'i'm counting the days. day 17 and i'm not sure why i feel this bubbling feeling inside me. of course, there's anger—i'm sure it's there, but there's also this other thing i get whenever i look at you.'

'my heart clenches up, and my hands become clammy, but it couldn't be a crush, right? i would've wasted my breath shouting, and my strength whacking your shoulder.' that makes haechan chuckle and look over at you where the soft light dances over your face.

'and then i started imagining. how would your arms wrap around me? how would your infuriating laughter, which somehow turned out to be so contagious, feel in the crook of my neck? yikes, that was cheesy.'

'what would it feel like if we fell in love for one night? where would you bring me and what would we eat? would we make out in your car like unruly teenagers?'

'what would it be like to love you? it's dumb, isn't it? i don't know. i've liked this bickering thing we had going on, and it's amusing to see you one-up me. i'm not sure if i want that to change and i'm not sure if you want us to, either.'

'maybe i'm wrong, and i'm the only one in this thing. this is so stupid, writing while he's sitting next to me. i'll regret this, maybe. goodnight.'

haechan sighs, closing the device in thought, confused at the words he wasn't exactly supposed to read. had you done this on purpose? he was sharing the laptop with you...

the boy brushed it off, placing the laptop on the vanity before adjusting your side of the duvet, hoping he could find the right words. with hesitant steps, he keeps to his side of the bed, thinking, thinking, thinking.

when he couldn't no more, haechan fell into the spell of slumber in the comfortable hotel room.

[day 34]

"tea?" he asks from the bathroom as the door clicks behind you, returning from the short hotel walk with a new keychain hanging from your sling bag.

"yeah sure, thanks."

the water runs as he fills up the kettle as the constant whir of the aircon and the conversation on the television keeps you company in the vast quietness of the room.

you weren't sure if you should say anything, but when you saw the dishevelled appearance of your roommate, you knew you had to bring up the argument and apology.

"haechan, about our... feelings. do you want to talk about them?" you whispered, a reply reaching your ears in the form of his spoon against the porcelain mug.

haechan hands you the drink wordlessly, sitting on the chair at the vanity before sipping cautiously at the tea. there are unexchanged glances between the two of you before he sighs at your expectant hand tapping the sheets.

"i think it's about time we did," he mumbled, dragging the laptop off the wooden table with anxiety. the other opened it without saying anything, catching you by surprise when the mouse hovers over your note.

"hae- donghyuck! no! what the hell?"

he holds up a hand and clicks on it anyway, making your heart drop to your stomach as he turned the device towards you.

"read the bottom." haechan whispers as you pull the laptop closer to you, settling it on your lap as he observed your expressions carefully.

'i read it, i'm sorry.' you look at him and lift up a hand to prepare to whack him, a defeated sigh escaping you before you carried on.

'was it wrong to read it? of course, and i cannot apologise more for doing shit like that when we still have unsolved tension between us in this small ass room. it was incorrect, but.'

'do you feel the same as me? is bickering all we have to do? why can't we work anything out? they're the questions i keep asking myself after i read your letter.'

'i guess i was too caught up in the fight and not wanting to be the loser that i... can't deny that i've never thought about wanting to get to know you, even if you were that sought out to be my destined enemy.'

'when we fought earlier, you kissed me. i know we said not to mention it, but, uhm, it was good. i liked it. i'm not sure if the reason why you did it was because of the reason you mentioned in the note, but at the time, i assumed it was to shut me up. i thought something would happen after, though you pushed me away and apologised right away.'

'it was a far off dream that i had, but i think it was after i bandaged your foot. you said that you didn't know what was going on in my mind, and i told you.'

'it was like, i was granted an insight into an alternate world, another universe where you didn't feel the strain, where you legitimately assumed i was going for your position.'

'you scoffed when i confessed, right then and there, on day 9. i was counting, too, and it was a scary, confusing dream. i think that's why i held it off as long as i could until your words puzzled and angered me further because you just didn't get it.'

'you scoffed and told me to get lost, pushing on my shoulders where we fought on the balcony for everyone to see. you never spoke to me, you never mentioned my article nor the interviews. we never joked over wine, and we always kept to our side of the bed.'

'i was convinced that heaven wanted me to stay away from you and your heart. maybe it was broken too many times, and you had someone up there looking out for you.'

'i feel like i'm copying off the textbook of some greek mythology starter pack, but i'm for real! no kidding.' you smiled, looking at him with nervous eyes at the small joke he put in.

'i guess whoever put that dream in my sleep really wanted us not to be together because i think i would've told you i liked you on the spot itself. i let my conscious get the best of me.'

'i know this is a lazy way of conveying my feelings, and i wished i could do it with words, but i feel like you wouldn't believe me otherwise. i rushed it this morning when you went on your morning walk around the hotel and when you let me know of your stroll in a soft voice, i wanted nothing more than to get you in my arms as we wake up to the housekeeping service.'

'i didn't want any more tension between us, and i didn't want to be interrupted by your alarm while we avoid each other more. it hurts seeing you escape the room in haste. you said it was weird for me to tag along with someone i hate, too, and that someone was you. i guess you found out why.'

looking up, you found him right in front of you, mouth dry from his reply to your letter. with a gulp, you leaned forward to meet his lips halfway.

"i'm sorry to whoever's up there," he whispers, prompting a grin and a laugh out of you.

the laptop is forgotten on the bed as haechan situates himself over you, clutching your shoulder gently while his lips move quickly, fast to make up for lost time.

"wait wait, wait, you're not playing me, are you?" you mumble in return, reluctantly pulling away while witnessing the way his eyes soften at your guard still up. haechan shakes his head forlornly, tongue pressing up against the side of his mouth nervously.

"no, i'm not, (y/n)," he says quietly with as much sincerity he can muster, removing his hand from your shoulder with a forced smile.

"okay." there's a shakiness to your voice, but when you bring his lips back to yours, it gives you a rush of confidence. your skin is burning up, and your hands can't stop wandering as his lips capture yours, repeatedly moving against yours like a trance.

you grant haechan access to your mouth with a whimper, melting into his embrace as his arms wrap tighter around your figure. his eagerness lingers when he pushes forward, straddling your lap as his leg nudges the laptop.

"wait, hyuck, wait, the laptop!" you joke, placing the device on the floor before getting back into the kiss with just as much fervour. within a minute or so, the other breaks away to say the words you so hated to hear:

"we... we need to talk. we can't just kiss the fight off, although i very much like to," haechan murmurs the last part, making you stifle a smile.

you nod quickly, repeating the word "okay" like a robot. your hands naturally travel from his arms down to his fingers, and you clutch them like your life depended on it.

"we have... established, that i like you, correct?" haechan whispers, scooting closer as his tea-ridden breath surrounds you. from here, you could even smell the buttered croissant he ate this morning.

it made you smile, something simple as that.

"why- why are you laughing (y/n)?" he asks anxiously, eyes darting to find the reason why you found this so funny.

"no. no no no, i'm thinking of... the croissant you ate just now, and," you sigh, resting your head on his broad shoulder.

"i'm thinking of the way your eyes light up when you show me the articles you idolise so much, and i'm thinking of the way you cuddle up to me whenever we watch stranger things."

"i'm thinking of the way you thought i wouldn't give you a chance, even though i've been pondering on the same thing as you. i'm thinking of the things that make up lee haechan, lee donghyuck. yes, you like me, and yes i like you, but i guess i haven't told you the reason."

"i hated you, i really did. i found every reason to convince my mind to hate you. gaining trust, signing up for events you didn't know shit about, sucking up to the seniors, stealing my friends when they didn't know your personality. the personality i didn't even want to know because i was too busy in my little bubble."

"assuming you'd want to get department head was the cherry on top, because why else would you want to tag along? that was the factor that convinced me and confirmed my suspicions from day one."

you grunt in opposition, clearly not liking the truth that was spilling from your lips. haechan deserved to know, however. you kept your eyes trained on his lap where his hands were holding yours in support, crumbling from the blindness that caused your hatred.

"so from then, the plane ride, immigration, the cab to the interview place, the cab back, the hotel room, my hatred for you boiled over." you listed, voice breaking as you looked haechan in the eye.

"it was stupid of me to assume, to assume the worst of you when i didn't even know you. i wasn't even sure why i felt so bitter looking at you, but the way you acted, the way you whined, worked me up so much that i figured that was how you were."

"now when i'm sitting here with the curtains drawn, i can see why you're so attractable and easy to talk to and easy-going and bright that my friends keep talking to you."

"i can see why the seniors turn to you because you're reliable and hardworking without uttering a single word."

"i can see why you wanted to hop on this flight with me because you're always curious about the world and how you can expand your skill set."

and as you said word after word, haechan observes you with a soothing hand against your forearms. his eyes shine for a different reason, for the lost time he could've had if the two of you didn't have this massive barrier. a massive barrier that's been up for the longest time.

brick by brick, the wall is being torn down. as you hold haechan's face in the stillness of the room, you feel closer to him than you've ever felt and his tears match your frustrated ones.

choking on sobs, delayed apologies were all you could whisper.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry, really. we fought so bad that day, and i was so goddamn insensitive..." you sigh, swallowing a lump when his hand reached up to wipe the tears. with a blocked nose, you breathe shakily as housekeeping interrupts the moment.

you nod towards the door as he stood up slowly to reveal the same housekeeping girl. she cleaned up the bathroom and wardrobe quietly as the two of you stood awkwardly in the small space. she had left the sheets since everyone was practically stuck in, anyway.

haechan nudges you toward the door with a shove, shooting the same housekeeping girl a small smile and a bow as an apology to the previous run-in.

"he confessed his feelings?" she inquired softly, noticing the tear marks on your face.

you bit your lip, "yeah."

"that's good, he's finally not a coward." she laughs, folding the used towels and placing them with her.

you leaned against the door, asking for an explanation with your puzzled look.

"he was someone i liked, before. we had classes back in high school. it was just a dumb crush, honestly." the housekeeping girl shrugs, resting her head on her fist in thought.

"i think he liked me, and i did too, but we didn't do much except for exchange looks and flirt because both of us were just too scared." she shakes her head and adjusts the disinfectant spray bottle, fidgeting with the nozzle.

"i'm glad he had enough courage to admit his feelings."

nodding along to her statement, she bids you farewell as her figure fades with each step, leaving you with a sense of calmness to the end of this situation.

[day 38]

"is... is this okay?" haechan asks, arm hovering over your body while waiting for your confirmation. you smile and nod, sinking into his side as you venture in the third season of stranger things together.

"don't you think we should be working on our articles?" you whisper, looking up at him from where you were with raised eyebrows.

the boy opens and closes his mouth in thought, gesturing to the television with an exaggerated expression.

"stranger things, ma'am."

you click your tongue and sigh with a smile, turning back to the show as you try to relax for an online interview in a few hours.

[day 39]

"what do you say about my set-up?" haechan nudges you, proud of the hangout area he prepared on the balcony. although small, he had no trouble making it look comfortable.

with a smile, you pop open the wine to celebrate the last scheduled interview for the trip, clinking glasses with haechan in the setting sun.

the country you were supposed to return to was slowly opening up flights for those stranded overseas and as refreshing as a different environment was, you missed home and the warmness of it.

you missed the office and your desk. hell, you even missed the mediocre coffee from the pantry.

with the last of the wine finishing, haechan pours half into your glass and the other into his, clinking one last time before you one-shot the beverage.

the high of the alcohol is gradually brought down by the mellow atmosphere and colours of twilight. as pink and orange cross over on the horizon, haechan mumbles a low "c'mere" to you in the darkness.

you hum in response and get up from your seat, bringing a pillow with you as haechan shifts to make space. sinking naturally into his arms, you sigh while you try to contain a smile full of content.

"this is nice," you admit, the corners of your lips disobeying your command, prompting you to shoot him a smile. haechan nods against your hair, a comfortable arm around your waist while you trace the tan skin of his arm.

the other taps your waist repeatedly, turning in response as he whispers out a question that makes your heart melt.

"can i kiss you?" you grin, slipping a hand around his neck and pulling him in right away. haechan's caught by surprise, laughing into your lips and striving to savour the moment as much as he could.

a shout from across the hotel distracts you from the kiss. looking up, you realise it was the apartment resident opposite you shooting you a 'rock on' gesture.

"you guys are not fighting anymore! congrats!" you both stifle a snort as you wave back to the resident, sighing in relief when their balcony door slides shut.

"should we go inside, m'lady?" haechan giggles, replying in the form of a nod, cleaning up the area while you head in.

[day 41]

"i didn't think they'd be letting flights in so early," you mumble, folding your clothes neatly as your vision shifts to haechan... shoving his fair share of apparel into his luggage.

"donghyuck... what the hell?" you roll your eyes, shoving the boy softly as you took over the task at hand. switching personalities almost immediately, haechan fakes an interview segment with exaggerated tones.

"see, everyone, this is how you convince someone to do the work for you," the boy lays on the bed with a satisfied expression, "now i don't have to do anyth- ow!"

"if we ever live together, maybe i should punish you by doing the laundry and then folding it," you grunt, working at the speed faster than you expected while you fold shirt after shirt.

"are you proposing we move in together?" haechan peeks through an open eye, curiosity dripping from his tone. he tried to feign nonchalance but awaiting your answer felt like a weight on his heart.

your next words lifted that weight, a seemingly invisible force bringing his upper body off the bed as he stares at you in shock.

"maybe, not now but... in the future, maybe," you mumble the last part, focusing on the clothes to prevent the male from seeing the fluster on your face.

"for real?" haechan sits up, biting his lip to contain his excitement as your confirmation.

"we'll be all stupidly domestic and shit, and i'll say i love you five years from now before you go off for work if you want that and stuff," your voice goes lower and quieter, especially towards the end, biting off way more than you could chew.

"aw! i love you too!" haechan gushes, bringing you into an embrace as your hands go limp, scrambling to explain your emphasis on the 'future'.

"d-donghyuck, i meant the future, not now..." you manage to spit out, hoping you need not answer his queries any more. your mind blanks out at the current situation, wishing you hadn't said those dumb things.

he grins into your neck, "i know, i'm just answering for future me."

you groan and escape the hug with a roll of your eyes, "yuck, too cheesy!" the boy just lets out a laugh, watching the way you fold his clothes despite your initial annoyance.

[day 42]

suyeon switches between the two of you in disbelief, finger crooked at the ambiguity of "we like each other".

"wha-" suyeon doesn't get the chance to finish the sentence before you shoot her a thumbs up, grabbing haechan by the arm and your stuff with the other.

you were happy to leave the office after a quick debrief since you two had reported to the office right after arriving at the airport, relieved when you heard he'd spare a few more days for your articles to be cleaned up.

"so, (y/n), what would you like to do now?" haechan looks at you through the reflective material of the elevator, observing the nervous wringing of your fingers.

you're glad for the material protecting your face because there's a smile that you struggle to keep as his soft, gentle voice carries through the quiet space.

the anxiety ends when the lift sounds, prompting your eyes to trail down his arm. your hand moves on its own accord, grabbing his last finger with yours as you proceed into the lift sheepishly, not missing the way haechan's eyes show his bright smile behind the mask.

"maybe i'll get to know you more, lee donghyuck."

haechan lets out a gasp, "have you not learned about me enough? scandalous."

you feign a punch in his direction, the luggage beside you tripping over its wheels due to your swift movement. the only response you get is a giggle from the other as he tightens his pinky around yours, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek right above your face mask just as the elevator doors open.

"man, i really do want to punch you now," you mutter as you let haechan lead you, wanting nothing more than to rest in the arms of your enemy-turned-friend? enemy-turned-someoneyoulike?

you weren’t exactly sure.

he doesn't answer during the walk to the main road, nor the ride back to your home, the only constant thing being the way he admires your profile in the taxi, shrugging when you counter with a playful "what?".

"nothing," haechan grins.

[there are more days to come]

sure, day forty-one may not have been the day you fell in love with haechan, nor the day where he outwardly claims you as his lover.

but, taking it slow never hurt anyone, either.

you know it in the way he tells you he can't go in unless he's invited and you see it in the way he asks if he can switch the television on while you prepare some drinks.

like the hotel, you know it in the way he asks if he can kiss you and the way he deepens his kisses with caution.

you appreciate it in the way he quickly apologises for a personal question, while visibly relaxing as you brush it off with a smile.

with hours pass, day forty-two becomes day forty-three, and haechan remains as chivalrous as always.

days pass, and you submit your articles. weeks pass, and you get to know the boy more and more. months pass, and you feel his love in the way he plays with your fingers in the dark and pulls you close under the sheets.

even if you hadn't acknowledged the love between the two of you, that note you wrote half-drunk matched the way you felt now—with how your heart clenches up and with how your grin never leaves your face with haechan around.

there are more days to come with lee haechan, lee donghyuck, even if it meant getting stuck together in a hotel room with unsaid words.

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98prilla · 4 years

Text

Curses and Truths

Inspired by This Work by @fangirltothefullest because it was so beautiful and the expressions were so great I had to do something for it.

Logan gets caught by the Dragon Witch. Roman comes to his rescue.

...

To be honest, Logan couldn’t quite remember how they’d gotten into this situation. At the moment, he couldn’t remember much of anything. His head was in a different place, numb and scrambled, and at some level he knew this was all very illogical, and if he could just think clearly, just for a moment, he would be able to break out of this nonsense fantasy.

A spike of numbing pain, as more roots coiled up his legs, wrapping around his chest and up his neck, dislodging his glasses, which caught on a branch lower down. He hated this. Hated not being able to see through the fallacies of the situation, he hated being so helpless, he hated that despite his heart telling him Roman would come for him, his mind was telling him that he wasn’t worth the trouble, that the risk in rescuing him wasn’t countered by any kind of reward.

Because surely, if Roman was coming for him, he would already have been here by now. It felt like hours, had passed. He didn’t know the last time he was able to take a breath unhindered by twisting vines and rough bark squeezing his chest, the last time he could move his arms freely, think clearly, everything was so muddled and all he could do was stupidly, foolishly pray that Roman would come for him.

“Aw, what’s the matter, little logic? Afraid your prince in shining armor won’t show?” He winced at the sweetly simpering voice, the harsh tug of his hair, followed by a sharply nailed caress of his face, that left red lined scratches across his cheek. He wanted to glare at her, to shoot back of course he was coming, and once he got here, he was going to rip her to shreds. But he couldn’t find the words.

So instead, he simply looked away, eyes on the ground, refusing to meet her piercing silver eyed stare. She laughed, a far too bright and bubbly sound, that sent shivers down his spine, because it sounded so much like Patton’s, but so much colder. A vine climbed up the branches, wrapping around his neck, too tight to be comfortable, making it harder to breath, harder still to speak. And once again, he was so sick of his words being taken. Of being left voiceless, and he hated himself even more for his weakness as he felt tears slip from his eyes, dark spots forming as they landed on the dry dirt below him. He was too numb to even pull away as she tsked, wiping away his tears, her dragon tail wrapped around the base of the tree, wings casting a shadow as she loomed over him possessively.

“Logan!” The voice was like a shockwave through his system, a brief wash of warmth that brought a flicker of clarity through the clawing despair, and for a brief moment, he managed to raise his head, to meet Roman’s eyes, before he couldn’t hold it up anymore, and it fell back against his chest. “Unhand him, you fiend! You will release Logan THIS INSTANT!” Roman roared, a fiery rage in his voice that Logan had never heard before, tinted by a dark undertone of fear. She laughed darkly, ruffling his hair as she turned, sharp teeth grinning at Roman.

“Now, now, little prince. You are in no position to make demands. You will give me what I want, or I will let the curse run its course. Your little boyfriend will make a very pretty tree, don’t you think? Cherry blossom, maybe, or perhaps lilac.” He gasped, a strange, aching pain gathering in his chest. He coughed violently, feeling blood on his lips, spitting petals out of his mouth. He could feel the gaps in the branches woven around his body closing up, squeezing tighter. No, not tighter. Assimilating him. Bark was growing over his legs, encasing them, and he let out a strangled whimper as the vine around his neck tightened, forcing his head up, forcing his gaze to meet Roman’s.

“Stop! I’ll do… I’ll do whatever you want, just stop.” Roman uttered, defeat in his voice as his shoulders slumped, his grip on his katana going from white knuckled to loose as he lowered it, embedding it into the ground and backing away. He winced as the dragon witch sauntered forwards, pulling the sword out of the ground, balancing it on the palms of her hands appraisingly.

“Such a pretty little thing. How many times, have you bested me with this weapon, I wonder?” Roman flinched as she snapped it in two, feeling as if a part of himself had broken with it. But nothing was as important as Logan, as getting Logan out of here in one piece.

As it was, he looked on the edge of passing out. His face was pale, the red of his lips standing out, the speckles of blood against them vibrant crimson. His eyes were dark and deadened, pain and fear clouding them, and he wanted nothing more than to pull him close and reassure him that everything would be fine.

“What do you want?” He bit out, anger tempered by worry and fear, as Logan struggled to breath.

“What do I want? You made me, little prince. Surely you should know already my purpose. I want to make you suffer.” She grinned, eyes flashing silver, and he raced forwards, uncaring of her laughter as she vanished, focused instead on Logan’s strangled scream.

He could feel it. He could feel his skin turning to rough bark, could feel roots wrapping around his feet, not growing up from the ground, but growing through him, tangling around his arteries and veins, clogging his bloodstream and blooming around his airway. He coughed, choking, spitting up more blood and petals, feeling it infecting his lungs, wrapping around his heart and constricting, the world spinning and blurred.

“LOGAN!” He managed to look up, to look at Roman, though he was just a blur of white and red. “Logan, hold on, I’m going to fix this, starlight, I’m getting you out.” Roman was scrabbling at the bark, trying to claw him out, but it was too late for that, Logan knew. It was inside him, it was in his blood, it was becoming a part of him, and already he was fading, shaking, he heard Roman’s sharp inhale as the bark climbed his neck, the spaces between the branches nearly all closed up, only his face still visible through the tree he was becoming.

“r-roman…” He managed, voice weak and shaking. Instantly, Roman’s hands were on his face, cupping his cheeks, stroking gentle circles against his skin.

“I’m here, starlight.”

“sorry… I…m sorry.”

“Shh, no, my love, it’s not your fault. You’re perfect, sweet pea. You’re going to be ok.” Roman murmured against his face, forehead pressing against his, until he felt the gap getting smaller, forcing Roman back. He felt the numbness creep across his face, and he took in one last shaking breath, before it covered him completely, before darkness encased him, before all light and noise and sound from the outside world was cut off.

He could hear his pulse slowing in his ears. He could feel his breath wheezing and stuttering. His mind was hazing over, his usually always turning thoughts were scattered and half formed as he felt himself melding into the branches twisted around him, felt his being becoming absorbed, one, with the tree around him, and he couldn’t even cry anymore, he was so far gone.

Distantly, he heard echoing thumps, screams, Roman no doubt beating at the tree, trying to reach him. He wished he could still see him, wished he could give him one last kiss, tell him it was alright, it wasn’t his fault, he wanted to say goodbye properly, but there was nothing for it, now. He couldn’t fight it anymore. His eyes were forced shut by the bark, glazed over with it, and he was dizzy, as the last air escaped his lungs, the tree melding into his arms, his legs, his body, until there was no separating him from the branches.

…

No.

Nononono

She’d gone too far, this time, surely she was bluffing, surely the curse would reverse itself any second, surely Logan wouldn’t… couldn’t be…

Gone.

He fell to his knees, crumpled against the dirt ground, hands curled into his hair as he howled, keening, screamed, because this hurt, this hurt more than any mere wound, this hurt more than being rent in two, this hurt a thousand times more than any other pain he had ever experienced.

It was his fault. He had unwittingly led Logan into danger, let him get snatched from right under his nose, he’d arrived too late to save him, and now he was gone.

His starlight, his moon, his galaxy, his swirling cosmos, his Logan.

He felt his fury rise, morphing his grief and pain into white hot rage, into sparking ire and an almost feral determination as he thought of Logan’s brilliant eyes, always glowing with new information, dazzling whenever anyone deigned to listen to him, debating theater and lyrics and poetry with him, they sparkled like the night sky. He remembered nights laying in the grass of the imagination, Logan carefully guiding his hand, placing the stars one by one to match Logan’s descriptions of constellations, to make it as accurate as possible, fascinated as Logan regaled him with every legend, every meaning, behind each one. He remembered Logan coming to his room, gently divorcing him from his work, ignoring his pleading for one last page, one last line, one last word, carding a hand through his hair as they curled together in bed, Logan’s soothing voice easing his mind to a standstill, calming the swirling, tenuous thoughts that clouded it, until he drifted off to sleep. He remembered going to Logan’s room and doing the same, ignoring his pleading of needing to adjust the schedule, to plot out Thomas’s day, to figure out when his meetings and appointments should be, easing the pen out of his hand, softly bringing it to his lips instead, murmuring sweet things to him until he was blushing and trying to argue against their validity, until Roman kissed him, promised him he meant every word, that he loved him, to the moon and back. Then Logan would start speaking about how far that actually was, and Roman would have him put it into more and more ridiculous units, how many busses, how many trains, how many bikes, how many pigeons, until Logan’s own mind had slowed from the focus of calculating, and they were both laughing.

Logan was his light, his world, his sun, his stars. He. Would. Not. Lose. Him.

He grabbed the snapped shards of his katana, pressing the broken pieces together, fusing them back into one with a blinding flash of golden light. He forced himself to his feet, feeling all the surging power of Thomas’s mind behind him, all the shaking, wild, untamable force of Creativity flowing through him, and shoved it all into a single thought, a single command, a single singing desire, a single, unchangeable truth, as he raised his sword, leaping into the air, aiming straight for the bark of the tree.

He was not too late. If cut open, it would free Logan. Logan would be alive.

He screamed, the sword coming down, cutting through the bark like butter, glowing with power, his eyes sparking with crimson sparks, his war cry echoing through the imagination, as he cleaved the tree in two.

It took a moment, for the dust to clear. For his senses to return to normal. He was shaking like a leaf, exhausted and drained, shaky with adrenaline, but he rushed forwards, unable to hear anything but the pounding of his own heart, as his gaze frantically swept the scene.

It was a few long moments before he placed Logan. He was held upright in place, against the inside of the tree, blending in perfectly with it. Bark covered his entire body, pinning him in place, consuming him completely. He gasped, rushing to his side, hesitantly careful as he reached out, relieved slightly as the bark easily brushed off of Logan’s face, the inch thick coating having lost all it’s life and magic when he struck it with his sword, crumbling to dust at the slightest touch.

Quickly, he tore the rest of the bark off of Logan, catching him as he fell forwards, the last of the bark keeping him upright crumbling away. He carefully brushed away the dusty remains from Logan’s face, his eyes, praying it wasn’t coating his insides as well. He couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not. He thought he could feel a weak pulse against his chest, but he wasn’t sure, and he gasped out a sob, cradling Logan tighter.

“Logan. Logan, please, please, wake up, please, sweet pea, please…” He whispered, tears tracking down his face at how still his love was, how lifeless he seemed, limp body cradled in his arms. He held his breath as Logan let out a hoarse, rasping cough, eyes barely fluttering open for a moment, before slipping shut again.

“R-ro…” Logan managed, though it was clear the effort cost him, sending him into another fit of hacking coughs. Roman pressed their foreheads together, gently adjusting him in his arms so he was a little more upright, hoping that would help.

“I’ve got you, starlight. I’ve got you. I’m taking you home, okay? Don’t worry about a thing, you just get some rest for me. I’ve got you.” He pressed a soft, gentle kiss against Logan’s lips, smiling briefly as Logan leaned into the touch, before falling completely limp once more, unconscious.

He would come back and rain down hell on the dragon witch later, possibly destroy her once and for all for this, but for now, his entire focus was on Logan, as he summoned the exit to the imagination, crossing over quickly to his room, locking the portal tightly behind him.

…

He couldn’t breathe.

It felt like his chest was too tight, like there wasn’t enough space in his lungs to inhale and exhale, and it hurt, it terribly, awfully, hurt.

He was coughing, hacking, really, a deep chested, body wracking cough, and he heaved as he felt someone support him into a sitting position, shaking from the force of the air being expelled from him, finally feeling something dislodge, spitting a mouthful of petals and wet plant innards into the bucket held before him, collapsing back against the warmth cradling him close, recognizing that scent of aspen and ink anywhere.

“roman…” He wheezed, throat raw and sore, that simple word almost sending him into another round of hacking. He could taste copper in his throat, could feel it against his lips, and he shivered, realizing he was lightly feverish, folding tighter against Roman’s embrace as he encircled him in his arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry, starlight. I never, never would have brought you with if I thought it would put you in danger, I won’t ever forgive myself for this, I swear, I swear nothing will ever hurt you, not ever again.” Roman murmured, voice shaking as he pressed his lips against Logan’s forehead. When he finally pulled back, Logan’s soft, exhausted eyes were looking up at him, hazed with pain and a breaking, tentative relief.

“you came. I thought you weren’t coming. I thought… I thought I’m not worth the trouble. Why would anyone risk themselves for me, why would anyone… why would you…”

“Logan, oh my Logan, my love. I will always find you. I would search for eons, I would travel to the ends of the earth, if that’s what it took to find you. I would never stop searching, not even the end of time would stop me, until I had you safely back in my arms. I love you, starlight. I love you, so incredibly much, sweet pea. I will always come for you.” He replied softly, tilting Logan’s chin up, tenderly meeting his lips for a long, endless moment.

“I thought I lost you, Logan. You nearly… and it’s all my fault. You’re hurt, and sick, and it’s all my fault.” His voice broke, tears slipping down his face as he gently cupped Logan’s cheek, rubbing softly over the bandaged scratches. “I was so scared. I was terrified, Logan, I’ve never been more afraid in my life. I would have done anything, anything she asked of me. I would have taken your place in a heartbeat, starlight, I would have let her have my crown, have my kingdom, have my life, I would have let her torture me, curse me, use me, however she pleased, as long as she let you go. I would give anything, darling dearest. I would give everything. Whatever little voice in your head that tells you otherwise is lying, and if you don’t believe me, Janus will confirm it for you.

You’re brilliant, starlight, brilliant and clever and you amaze me, every day, with how smart you are, how much you know about the world, the universe, your smile lights up the world, your laugh still makes my heart skip a beat, you are such a beautiful, kind, loving, person, Logan, and I love you. I. Love. You.” He uttered with complete conviction, lost in Logan’s beautiful eyes, surprised as Logan wrapped his arms around his neck, burying his face against his chest, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Roman didn’t say anything, simply tucked his head over Logan’s shoulder, holding him close, rubbing his back gently, only drawing back when Logan began hacking again, concern flaring at the deep, bone shaking sound, Logan upheaving more plant matter.

“thank you.” Logan whispered, curled against his chest, eyes closed, trembling, small coughs still escaping his lips every few seconds. “thank you for loving me. For b-being so patient. I know I’m not… easy… to manage. But you’re so good, to me, Roman. I haven’t earned it.” Roman brushed a hand through Logan’s hair, pressing a kiss to his head.

“you don’t have to earn my love, starlight. You have it always, freely given. Just being who you are is more than enough, Logan. There’s nothing you could do, that would make me stop loving you with all my heart. You’re not a chore for me to manage, you’re my boyfriend, and there’s nothing I would rather do, than spend time with you, be with you, argue with you, make up with you. I love you.” He pressed soft kisses to Logan’s eyelids, the tip of his nose, finally brushing his lips, each action melting Logan further into his arms, nuzzling against his chest.

“I think I may pass out once more.” Logan mumbled, feeling Roman laugh softly at his slurred confession.

“You need the rest, darling dearest. It’s alright. The effects of a curse are exhausting, especially one like that. It should fully wear off within the day, Logan, and I’ll be right here, sweet pea. I’ve got you.”

“you always do. Love you, Ro.” He managed, through a deep yawn, slipping back into darkness as he felt Roman’s arms hold him closer, knowing with absolute certainty that he was safe.

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scandeniall · 4 years

Text

sobbing in cabo

pairing: oikawa x reader

summary/warnings: how could you be in the most beautiful place you’d ever been yet feel so terrible?/ just language. tiniest mention of alcohol

wc: 1.3k

It’s a paradise. Waves kissed the shore languidly. It was a song sweeter than any lullaby you’d ever heard. Distant waves shimmered, a mixture of sliver, blue and green. The seagulls chattered overhead and you wondered what they could possibly be saying.

The setting sun was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Similar to a watercolor painting the Cotton candied clouds melted seamlessly into the tangerine sky. The hotels balcony gave you a front row seat to all this and more. You should be in paradise. So why did you feel so bitter? Distant laughing from travel goers did nothing but cause your eyes to roll in disgust. They were so happy. Kids pranced around dragging their parents to some new sea find. Friends posed in front of the water snapping memories that’d last a lifetime. You’d practically gagged at the sight of couples going for their sunset walks on the beach. A glimmer in your peripheral took your eyes from their people watching. A soft greeting attempted to lighten your mood. Instead, you took the offered glass drowning the drink in one gulp. Disgust graced your face at the burn now present in the back of your throat. “That was disgusting.” “It was expensive.” His voice grew stronger as did his presence. You felt the sudden warmth gifted from the way he stood next to you. Arms crossed over the railing as he eyed the sand below. The two of you took in the sounds around you before he spoke up. “I’m sorry you know.”

“Of course you are.” The words are bitter on your tongue. You hear the sigh from beside you, as you roll your eyes. “You know Tooru. This spot is a dream come true. It should be a paradise, so I wonder why it feels anything but.” Your voice trails off as you catch sight of a couple in the distance. It appears to be mid proposal. The lovers running into each other's arms into a sweet embrace and your jaw locks in pure jealousy. God how you wanted that.

Oikawa eyes seem to spot the couple as well. His gaze shifts several times between them and you. He bites back his own annoyance, knowing it’d make things worse. He has to carefully choose his next words. “I’m trying here (Y/N). I really am but you're not even giving me the benefit of the doubt.”

He's cut off by your humorless laugh. “If you call this trying, then I’d hate to see not.” You finally tear your eyes from the couple to face him. You almost feel bad for the attitude until your met with his look of exasperation. Suddenly you're reminded of the purpose of your vacation in the first place. “You’re the reason we’re here anyway. We’re supposed to be spending time together, working on us. Yet you’re doing the same shit-”

“(Y/n)-”

“No.” You immediately cut him off, putting your arm up to prevent him from reaching out towards you. “You're never here Oikawa. Even on our vacation. There’s always someone for you to go meet up with who you haven’t seen in so long. Or another stupid pickup game. I’m tired of coming last in your life.”

When he says nothing, in an attempt to gather his thoughts you figure, you huff in annoyance. He had nothing to say. Your attempt at exiting the balcony is ruined when callused fingers grip onto your wrist. “I don’t know what you even want from me. You agreed to this when you agreed to us.”

His words come out harsher than he’d intended. There was a flash of regret in his eyes that occurred once you snatched your arm away. He watched your movements carefully. He noticed how you went to speak at least three times, before closing your mouth. Each time was accompanied by a shake of your head.

He watched how your brows would furrow then soften as you mentally calm yourself down. You were likely doing the countdown exercise he taught you harly on. It was something he’d learned right after highschool as a means to relax and focus. The faintest of memories of how he’d pepper hisses across your forehead to make you laugh when he annoyed you crossed his mind. It was something that seemed so far in the past and he shook the thought away. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you.” You tell him calmly as the glass door slides open. Youre both met with the coolness of the blasting AC and he notices the shiver that runs down your spine at the temperature difference. There's no surprise as he follows after you, eyes narrowing at how you seem to be gathering some of your belongings scattered around the hotel room. It quickly dawns on him that you appear to be packing. “What are you gonna run away instead of us talking about this?” Oikawa feels himself slightly panicking at the thought, yet forces himself to stay just as headstrong as before. “We still have more days here.”

“You do. I can’t deal with this right now. I’ve been looking at flights back home. You insisted we come here to fix us, but this is useless.” Oikawa notes the difference in your tone. You’d drop the combativeness and attitude. This time its replaced with disappointment. “I don’t even know why I thought shit would be different just because we’re across the world. Its so beautiful here and I can’t even enjoy it with you.”

Oikawa knows better than to approach you. He just knew that it’d make things worse. Right? He settles on the edge of the bed as you continue fluttering around the room. “Just stay an extra day with me. We can talk about this tomorrow. Just me and you yeah?” He lets out the quietest sigh of relief at your nod. At some point he’d grabbed your hand and you hadn’t pulled away.

“I’m gonna go take a shower ok?” Oikawa only offers your hand a slight squeeze in response. The smile you offer him is empty and you’re not even sure you miss the warmth once he lets go of your hand.

The sun is nearly completely down once you get out of the shower. Your’e surprised to even see your boyfriend still in the room. You’d been in Cabo for about a week now and he’d gone out without you nearly every day. You wordlessly climb into the bed next to him eyes hyperfocused on the TV. The space between you two feels momentous. The two of you are on opposite sides of the king sized bed.

Your heads are in two different but similar places. You two still loved each other, but is that enough. You’re young adults, still growing and changing. Continuing to chase your dreams and perhaps you were growing out of each other. He was never around anymore and unknowingly pushed you into the bottom of his priority list.

You’d wanted nothing more than to support him, but you needed more. You needed someone to tell you that they were proud of you. Someone who would put you first even if for one day. He couldn’t seem to do that. Not right now at least.

That night as the two of you laid in darkness. Every once in a while if you listened carefully enough you’d hear the distant music from some likely party. You just knew the way the moon reflected off the sea was breathtaking. As you thought about the past 3 years with Oikawa and how you would've loved for this vacation to mend your relationship, you teared up. How could you be in the most beautiful place you’d ever been in and wanted nothing more than to cry. Never did you think you’d be biting back your tears in Cabo.

a/n: uh yeah im very nervous about writing oiks and not doing him justice bc hes such a unique character but here we are. the 1st of my few non happy pieces. Inspired by Blackbear’s newest project (title is literally the song; sobbing in mexico. this is only loosely based/ more so just the vibe over the lyrics so yeah)

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #oikawa x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #oikawa imagine #hq imagines #hq headcanons #oikawa toru x reader

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mahlymal · 3 years

Text

Yay!! More sad $hit from Ben Platt ;)

Not so long ago, amazing singer, songwriter, and my favorite celebrity pothead, Ben Plat released his new album, Reviere. Shockingly it is only his second studio album and my god did he release another banger. Not only did it take my breath away but it made my 40-year-old mother cry her eyes out like the teenage girl she was a few decades ago. With its jazzy and electronic vibe, this pop album transports you to the 80s and makes you wish you could travel back to that time to appreciate pop music from that era. Ben Platt uses his grief and learned lessons from his past to poor out in every song he has on this album. You cannot help yourself to not connect to these songs and let them strike your soul because that is how much power his lyrics hold over a listener.

We start the album off with the first of three interludes that fall at the beginning, middle, and end. As interesting as the interludes were, I genuinely didn’t care for them only because they sounded too robotic for my taste. Even though they weren’t my favorite parts of this collection of music I do love that all 3 interludes tell a personal story of Ben Platt and his self-growth journey. “Childhood Bedroom”, the first full song, automatically catches your interest with its futuristic but majestic sound. It allows the listener to step into a space of serenity and brings back all the happy memories one has had as a child in their very own childhood bedroom. Equally important, “Happy to Be Sad” allows one to know that it is okay to be sad at times and miss that certain someone who you had to let go of for your own sake. Ben Platt’s vocals along with the saxophone solo at the end was an extraordinary way to end this track. The comfort of letting someone go and putting yourself first continues onto the next track with a popular fan favorite “I Wanna Love You But I Don’t”. This track flows through self-love and justification to let someone who you love go because you know deep down in your heart that they only cause you sadness.

youtube

(Ben Platt - I wanna love you but I don’t [Official Video)

“Leave My Mind” tackles the concept of trying your very hardest to delete that one person who you thought you loved but wasn’t truly there for you. Like its counterpart and previous track above it, the electrifying “Dance With You” allows the listener to flow through a scene of uninsured love. Ben Platt figuratively dances with his connection with another and allows the one he loves to know that he is sure of their love and he wouldn’t want anyone else by his side to hit that dance floor with. “Carefully” presents us with a soft, heaven-like tune that tackles the idea of having your loved one break your heart in the most gentle way possible. Ben’s stunning voice along with the acoustics on this track go hand in hand so well that I find it amazing how much power a person’s voice can have over you.

With the following track, “Chasing You”, we get a twist of emotions from Ben Platt and instead of heartbreak or sorrow, the song focuses on wanting to be with that one person so bad that NOTHING else matters. Ben brings us to church with his visionary track “Come Back.” The way he pours his soul into this song proves that he connects to this song very deeply, especially since he is in a happy relationship. He follows up this track with the inspirational “Dark Times” that not only motivates one to know it is ok to go through hard times but you see the light at the end of those dark times. Finally, we end off the album with another one of his popular songs, “Imagine” which allows any listener to imagine that one person they just couldn’t live without. Altogether, this album was hands down the best album I have ever listened to and have deeply connected to and I am so excited for what the future holds for Ben Platt since his future looks bright for him.

#benplatt #ben platt #lgbtq icons #pop music #legend

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jakeperalta · 4 years

Note

omg please give a track by track breakdown when you can form coherent thoughts hehe

ok so these are my second listen thoughts now i’m beginning to be able to form sentences again! first things first i love all the songs so here we go

willow: so cute gosh i love so many of the individual lines and love how it can be interpreted in lots of ways (also loved the video!) - definitely feels like a grower, same as how with cardigan i was initially like “wow great song!” and now i’m like that song owns my entire soul

champagne problems: put this at the bottom of my predicted rankings based on the title because i don’t drink and am uninterested in songs about getting drunk but as soon as it started playing i was like well that was wrong i love it. absolutely love the concept (already discussed it but it gave me all my rory/logan shipper rights) and it’s just beautiful but also “she would’ve made such a lovely bride, what a shame she’s fucked in the head” SCREAM

gold rush: lyrically/thematically reminds me a lot of “everybody wants you” by red hearse which is interesting because that’s one of jack’s projects and that always reminded me of taylor’s lyrical style. also “the coastal town we wandered round had never seen a love as pure as it” love that line sooo much!!!

tis the damn season: mmm love this concept! “there’s an ache in you put there by the ache in me” is poetry!! she really said cheesy hallmark christmas movie about a city girl coming home and reigniting an old flame over the holidays but make it a masterpiece

tolerate it: when i first heard the opening lines i thought this might be about andrea in that idea of carefully watching someone and them being older and wiser and yourself feeling like a child... but obviously it’s not! gives me big dear john vibes. the concept of having so much love to pour into someone and them just tolerating it is absolutely heartbreaking

no body no crime: ok!!! she really popped off with this one!!! love the drama of the intro with the sirens and the “he did it” whisper. love the storytelling and the haim feature. gives me big country vibes actually, specifically reminds me of something the chicks might write.

happiness: “there’ll be happiness after you, but there was happiness because of you. both of these can be true.” is such a beautiful concept i really love that line. also this feels like one of her most mature songs ever. the way she acknowledges we made it each other happy but we also hurt each other but one day we will be happy again and will be able to be happy for each other. also the gatsby reference of the beautiful fool and the green light?? ok literary queen

dorothea: this is the first and only one so far that i connected with another song because i was straight away like oh she’s totally the one coming home in tis the damn season! very sweet, also i have a little sister called dorothea who’s only three but one day i will have to play it for her so i’m glad dorothea gets quite a nice story

coney island: so beautiful and interesting!! feel like i need to live with this one for a while to truly appreciate all its intricacies but taylor and matt’s voices are lovely together

ivy: honestly after two listens i can only vaguely remember it sounding soft and nice but i didn’t pick up on any of the lyrics, i think i need more time to appreciate it on its own. interesting reading the lyrics that it has illicit affairs type vibes

cowboy like me: was expecting this to be a bit more overtly yeehaw but still great. feels like an alternative/country version of getaway car 🤠

long story short: fun change of tempo! love this new take on the Bad Time and “no more keeping score, now i just keep you warm, and my waves meet your shore ever and and evermore” is just lovely!!

marjorie: just beautiful and moving and sweet. that is all.

closure: the production on this is kinda stressful to listen to skdfnsdknf idk don’t really have other thoughts on this one? feels a bit less lyrically rich than the others

evermore: beautiful!!!! sadder than i expected but love the hopeful note it ends on. also this is how i expected exile to sound when we found out bon iver would feature and it’s cool to hear the duet with justin’s voice being higher than taylors! also love that i was correct in guessing taylor and joe wrote it together

#taylor swift #Anonymous #answered

13 notes · View notes

pippki-writes · 3 years

Text

An Ill-Fitting Name: Snippet 4

NOTES:

Snippet 1

Snippets 2 & 3

Features lyrics from Danny Schmidt’s “This Too Shall Pass”

Faoust belongs to @thebiggestnerd - she writes him, the healer (whose contribution I summarized in this snippet, I don’t think she comes up again much for our murderboy here so I didn’t go too in depth with her) - everyone else is mine.

Longer post, 8,066 words folks! Buckle up.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

The name is like an ill-fitting coat, but it’s either wear it, or go naked in the cold, metaphorically speaking. He knows Faoust will kill him, but he’s not dead yet.

The officer sitting outside the room tilts her chair back on its legs, in one ear her radio turned low and largely ignored, holding her phone out playing music and keeping her other ear tilted to the room and its occupant for signs of life. He listens to the music coming from her phone:

We think too big

We think our self is one whole thing

And we claim that this collection

Has a name and is a being

But deep inside

When every cell divides

Well, it sets upon the rule that states

Self-interest is divine

He scrapes out an involuntary cough, and the officer lets her chair fall forward as she twists to check on him.

She tries to interrogate him, but he can’t talk, and only whispers “no.” He writes on her notepad, “I’m expecting a visitor,” and refuses to communicate further. His intuition is that Faoust will come here for him eventually, though he doesn’t know how long Faoust will let him live. Maybe Faoust won’t come while he’s in the hospital. But hovering over the edge of the pain, death feels certain and he knows where it will come from.

Finally, a visitor arrives. He hears the footsteps approaching, certainly heavier than any of the nurses that have tended to him, and the sound of a respectful shuffling in place, acknowledging the officer guarding his hospital room.

A familiar voice speaks. “Hey. I’m here to see my friend Asmodai, officer…?”

He can hear the sound of the officer crossing her arms, but she neither gets up nor offers her name. “Don’t suppose you might be able to tell me what the hell happened to him and how he ended up here?”

“Nah, wish I could. Is he ok?”

“He’s not in great shape. I’m not a doctor but he’s bad off. And not the kind of bad off that happens accidentally.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Almost as crazy as whoever did this. You don’t have any ideas?”

“Nah. I’m not really an ideas guy. Just a guy who worries about my friends. Can I go see him or...?”

The officer gives a defeated little grunt. “Yeah, sure. Go ahead. We can talk later.”

Dorien walks into the room as though he belongs there. Machines. IVs. In the middle of the room, bed propped up, staring at him, there’s that bastard Asmodai. Dorien takes a moment to breathe, staring back, looking angry. Dorien reminds himself why he is here. Not to kill him. Not to bring retribution. Just information to help Faoust. He clenches and unclenches his hands.

It takes Dorien a moment to realize what Asmodai is doing. The slight, strange sound, chest heaving—he is, very quietly, laughing.

He hasn’t come to terms with how to refer to himself—he is no more Isaiah than he was Asmodai, but he supposes, out of respect for the wish of a self who once knew what it wanted, he will call himself Isaiah until it fits. Or until he’s dead.

Isaiah laughs until the sound breaks into a cough. For starters, this was not the visitor he was expecting. And he can see why he would have been drawn to Dorien. Tall, dark-haired, handsome, and vulnerable. So many of his favorite things. The wizard Asmodai, before he stole his name, had been much the same.

Dorien keeps himself in check, and comes closer to the bedside. He doesn’t want the officer to hear him.

“What’s so fucking funny?” Dorien growls quietly.

Isaiah frowns. Talking will be an effort. He can’t even breathe too deeply, thanks to Dorien’s best attempts to slowly crush his ribs the other night after what he tried to do to Faoust. This is merely a fact—he doesn’t feel particular malice over it. He tries to choose his words carefully, so as not to waste them. There’s no volume, only whispering, but even the whispers are so resolute, so final. The playfulness of Asmodai is gone.

“Too much...to explain. What ...do you want...to know?”

Dorien folds his arms, lest he be tempted to do anything. “C’mon, what do you think I’d be here wanting to know. The magic-blocking cuffs. How do we take them off? Where’s the key?”

Isaiah shakes his head. “Didn’t get...a key. Wouldn’t...have wanted it.”

Dorien glares down at the bastard who nearly succeeded at killing the love of his life, and proceeds to try to get information out of him while texting Faoust. The conversation is slow going. The answers Dorien gets are halting and unsatisfying.

Faoust texts Dorien: "I want to know what he thinks should happen next."

Dorien looks down at Asmodai. “So what do you think should happen next?”

Isaiah sighs, unfazed. “Talking...not exactly....easy. Paper? Pen? Your phone?”

Dorien looks around for paper. He’s dumb, but not dumb enough to hand over his phone. He finds a notepad and a cheap pen in the desk drawer, and throws them on Asmodai’s lap.

Isaiah scribbles, handwriting messy and difficult on the flimsy pad, “He kills me for what” a scribble then, crossing out an “As,” and the writing resumes, “I’ve done. Why wouldn’t he? It’s inevitable.”

Dorien tears the paper off the notepad and holds it up, taking a picture to send to Faoust. “You’ve really fucked up, Asmodai.”

Isaiah’s mouth twitches a little at the name.

Above the top of the note, in the picture, Faoust can see Asmodai staring at the camera. There is no fear, nothing pathetic in the way he looks. Resolute. Certain. Final.

Faoust frowns. He had hoped for a bit more fight. But this is sort of like putting down a rabid dog at this point. It's not enjoyable for anyone involved.

Faoust: "tell him I'm disappointed that it came to this"

Faoust: "tell him I'll be there soon. As soon as my magic is back"

Dorien reads his phone, and before he can speak another note is being waved at him that reads “tell him come talk to me himself. This is fucking ridiculous.” Dorien sighs and snatches the note, snapping a picture for Faoust. There is a touch of defiance in Isaiah’s eye.

Faoust's lip curls in irritation and a tiny bit of embarrassment. Fine.

Faoust makes his way to the hospital, to the third floor, to the charge nurse.

“Looking for my friend,” says Faoust, “A John Doe?”

The charge nurse points with a pen. “The room with the officer. There’s already a visitor and technically I shouldn’t let too many people visit at once, but you know what? The world is hell. This hospital is hell. Go nuts.”

“Amen,” Faoust replies, heading over to the officer. “Hi, I'm here for my friend. I guess I have to answer questions first?”

The officer squints up at him suspiciously. “Damn, did the city call a prettyboy convention and I missed the memo?” She lets the chair rest back on all four legs. “I dunno, what do you know about what happened to your friend?”

“Not much. We were out partying, I know pandemic and all, but spare me the lecture. I told him goodbye and to call me when he got home but he never did.” Faoust pauses. “I heard he's bad. Maybe a hit and run?”

“Sure. Sure. Right.” The officer eyes him for a moment. “You’re a better liar than your friend. Go on in.”

“Liar? I- ugh. Fine.” He gives up on the officer and goes in the room.

“Alright you piece of shit. I'm here. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Isaiah looks at Faoust appreciatively. Yeah, he can see why he did all that shit. He sighs, wishing he could just fucking talk, and settles for hurriedly writing on the notepad.

Dorien mutters softly to Faoust. “He can’t talk..apparently.”

Faoust chuckles a little. “I should expect so.”

Isaiah rips off the note and holds it out. It begins with “A” scratched out and then “I resented the power you had over me. Wanted you to suffer. Wanted to kill you, and Dorien, and take your name, take your power. And didn’t want to kill you. Wanted to fuck and kill with you. Poorer judgment won out. Tried to make you suffer.” He sighs, frustrated at the time it takes to write, already writing on a new note.

Faoust reads the note and sighs. It was just as he thought.

“I wanted to just keep it fun and casual.” Faoust grits out through his teeth, “Why did you have to complicate things?”

Isaiah tosses Faoust a finished note: “No point in apologies. Won’t change what was done. No actions to right it” and starts writing a response to the question, tapping the pen on his chin, thinking.

“Wasn’t as fun fucking and killing without you. Didn’t like that.”

“That's called friendship, you absolute dolt.”

Isaiah pauses, and writes “Asmodai didn’t do well with having friends.”

Faoust runs his hands through his hair in exasperation. “Wait-Asmodai? Third person? Who the fuck are we talking to then?”

Isaiah makes a face. It’s difficult to explain. He writes. “I am. Was. Asmodai. For too long I think.”

He pauses, rolls his eye. He doesn’t feel like Isaiah either.

“I did what he did. But don’t feel what he felt, anymore. Memories, yes. Feeling? No.”

Faoust pauses. “So is..is Asmodai gone?”

“Depends on what you mean. The me that felt what he—I felt?”

Isaiah makes a quiet frustrated noise and slams the pen down. He is so tired of writing. He jots another note, mindful of trying to do magic around either of them. “Can I try magic on my voice? You mind?”

Faoust shrugs. “Go for it.”

Isaiah holds his right hand around his throat, eye closed. Healing has never been his strong suit, but he knows enough to get by. He just needs to be able to talk. His hand glows faintly.

When he speaks, his voice is rough, not much volume to it but it’s more than a whisper.

“If I don’t feel the things I felt when I called myself Asmodai, am I Asmodai?”

Faoust thinks. This complicates matters. “I'll be frank. If I were to leave you be, what would you do? Don't lie to me.”

“I would leave you alone.” Isaiah shrugs. “The things I ...Asmodai...I felt, I know them. Factually. I don’t feel them anymore.” He looks at Faoust sharply. “But I am responsible for what I did.”

Faoust thinks for a moment. “This is complicated. I'll need some time with this. What do you think you'll do when you're out of the hospital?”

“What do you mean, when I’m out of the hospital? You’re going to kill me. No further planning needed.”

“Well, I was thinking about waiting when you got out of the hospital regardless.”

Isaiah sighs. “Wish I’d known that sooner. Might’ve kept this magical existential crisis at bay.” He shakes his head. “No. Probably not. Asmodai—I. Fucked up too much. There was no way he...I...would win. It’s certain. You will kill me.” He shakes his head again.

“Look. I don't want to kill you. Asmodai. At all. At this point it's about putting down an animal. That's all. And now there's this whole thing that you're not even who I knew anymore? This complicates things. Shit, if I were to kill you, it wouldn't even feel right.”

Isaiah makes a frustrated noise. “Fuck. The only reason I’m like this is because you’re going to kill me.”

“Do you want me to kill you?”

Isaiah dodges the question. “Back when I started killing to take power and names, I bound my own name away, far beyond my memory, and it would only come back if I was certain I was going to die. So I could die not as whatever fucking asshole whose name I stole. But as myself. Or at least. In the name I was born with, right?

“I was Asmodai. I was happy being Asmodai. But now?

“I’m no more Asmodai than I am this damn name my shit mother gave me.”

Faoust thinks. “Well, look. Fine. I'll kill you. Put you down. But I have to wait. I can't do anything until I have my magic back.”

Isaiah twists his lips a little. “Hm. Can’t help there. Told your boy here, I don’t have a key for the cuffs.”

This whole time, Dorien has just been watching, arms crossed and not believing this bullshit.

“Yeah,” Faoust says, “I heard. I've just got to wait. So you've got to wait.”

Isaiah sighs again. “Isaiah. Isaiah James. My name.” He shrugs. “Me. Not me.”

Isaiah twists his lips briefly in disgust at the taste of his own name on his tongue. “If you’re going to kill me, you ought to have my name.”

Faoust nods and rubs his face. “Look, I'll put you down. I will. But it's going to take like at least a week for me to get my magic back.”

Isaiah gives another shrug. “You know where to find me. I know what I’ve done. It’s only right.”

“Alright. You're not going anywhere?”

Isaiah gives him a flat look. “Where and how the hell would I manage to do that?”

“I mean, you've got magic. I don't. You could pull out some magic to take yourself somewhere.”

Isaiah rubs his fingers together on his right hand, little sparks arcing between them as he stares vacantly at his hand. “Where would I go? For what purpose? I know my fate.”

Faoust nods, satisfied. “Alright. Well then, we'll be on our way. You've got my number.”

Isaiah nods, dismissing the sparks. “I’ll be waiting.”

Isaiah wonders if it’s worth healing himself--physically, at any rate. He closes his eye and takes stock of all his pain. So many choices. And what else is he supposed to do with his time? The burns, he thinks, he will work on those. He hovers his right hand over his burned forearm, wrapped loosely in the day’s fresh gauze, and slowly works a healing spell, distracted by memories of the fight. Remembering the moment it all turned on him, when help came for Faoust while he had no one. He shakes his head, his thoughts wandering around. So many emotions that ruled him that he’s no longer bound by. Though perhaps he should be. He ought to be more angry. But he is mostly hollowed out. He does not even notice when his thoughts slip over the witch and his magic doesn’t so much as flicker, the healing steadily and slowly knitting in his skin.

Those were Asmodai’s problems.

The worst part is the waiting. Or perhaps the worst part, right now, is the burns on his arm—his healing magic is slow, the process tedious, and his head is empty of any warming memory to draw upon to make the healing go faster. There are memories, so many memories, but as he turns his mind to each of them in turn he feels nothing he can pull from. Perhaps it would have been better not to restore the nerve endings that had been burnt away—as they return, so too returns the opportunity for fresh pain to scream through his senses. And the drugs have trouble working their wonders as his magic interferes with the natural order of his body. Too late now, he’s already started this project. When the nurses aren’t looking in on him, he hovers his hand over the burned arm and continues the laborious process of working healing magic. Healing was never his forte. It still isn’t. Good to know, though it still seems like all he knows is a catalogue of things he was, and now isn’t.

Though perhaps, Isaiah thinks, it’s pointless to dwell on. Does he need that badly to know who he is now, if he’s only going to die? Not that he wants to die. Though, he can tell, Asmodai didn’t want to die in a particularly crazed and desperate way that Isaiah no longer feels. He doesn’t want to die, but then, he doesn’t feel a clear sense that he wants much of anything right now. From the moment the spell he placed upon himself fell away, he has simply accepted the fact of his death. Imminent. Inevitable. Deserved.

Asmodai was awful—not in a way that Isaiah feels, merely as a summary of fact considering the things that he’d done. The drives that motivated him. But to be fair, Isaiah had not been a good person either. No. He had been awful too. Killed people. Tortured them. Enjoyed it. Sought power beyond his measure, and took it.

Killed the dark wizard who taught him everything.

Sealed himself away.

What had he thought would happen, if this spell had ever had cause to come undone? He can’t remember, but he is pretty sure he would not have guessed it would leave him like this. So...uncertain.

Regret implies a level of sadness Isaiah doesn’t feel. He...wishes he had been someone different though. He wishes he had acted differently. Had recognized his limits. Recognized battles he wouldn’t win, and had the sense not to fight them.

The nurse surely notices when Isaiah’s arm does not look as bad off today as it did yesterday, putting fresh gauze on, but says nothing. Discreetly checks the patient chart—yes, third degree burns. It definitely said the patient had third degree burns. But you don’t last long in this town by asking inconvenient questions. Since the patient is conscious now, staring out the window, the nurse offers him his phone from his belongings and plugs it in for him. There’s a crack across the screen, but the phone works.

Isaiah has been working on healing his arm. It is such a slow, deliberate process. He isn’t sure why he’s doing it, but now that he’s started he’s committed to continuing. After all, what else has he got to do? His arm is still a mess of burnt tissue and pain, fresh nerve endings and the testament to his limitations.

Later, he looks through his phone, deleting pictures that bring him no particular joy to look at. Eventually he texts Faoust, “Have you decided how you’ll do it?” and nothing else.

Faoust: “something quick. Could stab you right in the heart.”

The heart had been Asmodai’s favorite, ripped from his victims—sometimes raw, other times he’d toast them before devouring them whole.

Isaiah: “poetic. fitting.”

Faoust: "look man. I really don't want to do this. You could go about your business. I don't care"

Isaiah sighs, and leaves the message on read for a few minutes. He thinks.

Isaiah: “I did wrong by you. I accept responsibility for it.”

Faoust: "and I'm telling you it's fine."

Isaiah waits again before responding.

Isaiah: “now I’m the one that needs to think on that”

Faoust: "Asmodai tried to kill me. He failed. You're here now. Not the same as Asmodai. It's not the same kill for me. Look, I beat the shit out of you. That should cover it. Do you really want to die?"

Isaiah sighs to himself.

Isaiah: “no, I don’t”

Faoust: "then I'm giving you your fucking out. Take it."

Isaiah pauses. Again, Faoust giving him the opportunity not to die, after everything he...Asmodai...he did. After so many times he honestly deserved to die. He was a warped and twisted thing, not right, and surely not to be trusted. But fuck. He didn’t really want to die.

Isaiah: “...ok.”

Isaiah: “fine”

Faoust: "want me to call a healer for you?"

Isaiah: “...seriously?”

Faoust: "otherwise you're going to be stuck at the hospital forever. No offense but I want you out of here."

Isaiah: “sure, sure. If I’m healing myself it’ll take forever”

Faoust: "you can't kill her"

Isaiah: “of course”

Isaiah thinks about the warning, which is fair, considering his history. He doesn’t even feel like killing anyone right now. Which is strange to him. He wonders to himself as he waits if this is the right thing to do, not insisting Faoust kill him. If he’s just avoiding fate and what he deserves. But when Faoust arrives in his hospital room with a healer, and she uses magic to transport the three of them out of his hospital room, he just watches quietly, making no protest. The empty alley she takes them to is cold, and Isaiah’s broken body falls to the ground painfully without a bed beneath him anymore.

He sucks it up, grits his teeth, and withstands the pain and the cold. Not out of any sense of pride, but because he feels he deserves it. He lists out for the healer the procedures the doctors had done, along with his own meager attempts at healing, and in turn, she tells him what she’ll be able to do. The metal they used to set his bones will always bring him some pain and discomfort, and there’s nothing she can do for his eye, the curse--

“The eye,” says Isaiah, touching his cheek lightly, “has been there a long time now. It’s fine.”

The magic of healing is painful, and there is a lot of it to be done. Isaiah doesn’t scream, not the way he did when Faoust beat him in the first place. He endures, and tries to focus on the fact that he deserves this pain. This doesn’t stop a few strangled screams and growls from bubbling up. Faoust watches impassively, satisfied.

When it’s finished, Isaiah breathes heavily for a moment, feeling every nerve on fire, taking stock of how he feels. He sits up, slowly, impressed and in awe. He gives thanks to the healer, to Faoust, and stands up shakily on knees that are no longer shattered. He summons up the illusion of clothes over his hospital gown, with no idea where he ought to go, what he ought to do. When Faoust tells him to get the fuck out of here, he readily agrees. Not the first town he’s been kicked out of. Always violent. Always deserved.

He could teleport himself, but where the hell would he go? There’s nowhere he belongs. There’s a dull ache in his bones, and he picks a cardinal direction and starts walking toward it. The speed doesn’t matter. Isaiah doesn’t strictly need actual clothes. He could use magic to keep himself warm. But the first window shop he passes, he swaps his hospital gown for the outfit on display, and keeps walking. He walks until he’s passed by a sign indicating leaving/entering, the liminal space of one town bleeding into another, goes to the first clean motel he can find, uses his magic to procure a room, and passes out after having walked for hours.

At the hospital, a call is placed to 911. A patient is missing.

The officer assigned to take the report is the same one who had been guarding the room when Dorien and Faoust visited. With the most deadpan expression, she questions the charge nurse on duty, intoning dully, “wow, just fucking vanished, huh?”

She files a missing persons report for “Asmodai / Isaiah James,” because in spite of trying not to hear things she doesn’t want to have to question, she hears them anyway. She makes note of possible contacts / persons of interest, “Dorien” and “Faoust,” and submits her report to see if she can get away with not following up on anything further.

She doesn’t even bother running any checks on any of the names. She doesn’t find anything out about a decades-old missing persons report for a runaway boy of the name Isaiah James out of Ohio. If anyone bothered to fingerprint the victim at all to try to ID him while he was unconscious, the prints have been lost.

After all, a lot of people go missing in this town.

It’s just one more.

Her supervisor literally flips a coin to decide if such absolute bullshit shoddy work will be accepted. Tails. That’s a nope. He rejects the report, and sends her a CAD message: “hit the streets and try again sweetie.”

Officer Dannic “Dani” Voros swears, loudly, in her patrol car in the hospital parking lot, and slams her computer shut. Growls, and opens it again to search for any information she can find about Dorien and Faoust. If she can find anything, she’ll talk to them at least.

Here’s what she finds: no drivers licenses. No arrest records. No voter records. Nothing in any database she has access to. No hospital records, which no, her friend in the hospital records should NOT have looked up for her probably but dammit, this was important. Well, not important to her, but it’s what she was supposed to be doing and she was getting very annoyed with the lack of any hints of paper trail for those two.

She starts angrily and haphazardly googling search terms, and some combination of tall, mysterious, handsome, and Dorien does bring back a tabloid article about the enigmatic artist, which brings up several printed interviews and connections to a particular pre-teen punk rock band apparently bankrolled by Mr. Dorien Godforbidhehavealastname, and the names of its musicians. Actual names. First and last names, unlike those recordless bastards Dorien and Faoust. She searches the names. Property tax records. Bingo. A lead. And an address. She puts the patrol car in drive and heads out. One conversation largely conducted through the few-inch gap of a chained door later, Officer Voros has both probably offended another citizen with an inappropriate joke, and obtained an address for the two handsome strangers that called on her missing person.

The cold rain makes all this work extra annoying. She debates putting off the follow up until more clement weather. Or just never. Reluctantly she puts the patrol car in drive and heads to the address.

She looks at the apartment building as she pulls up. No, correction. She looks at the giant skeleton covered in Valentine’s decorations outside the apartment building as she pulls up. The apartment building itself is an afterthought. As she arrives, the weather around the apartment changes. Suddenly it is clear and 59 degrees.

Officer Voros just stares at the atmosphere and blinks at it like it has personally offended her. She twists in her seat to look back down the street at the weather there, then stares at the apartment again, and sinks back in her seat for a moment, closing her eyes, and thinks to herself, “thiiiiiiis. iiiiiis. some buuuuuuuullshiiiiiiiiit.”

She sighs a very angry sigh, gets out of the patrol car, and goes up to the appropriate door. She raps on the door with her very best authoritative knock.

Faoust opens the door and clocks the cop. “Hm.”

Officer Voros puts her hands on her hips and brightens comically. “And they said I’d never find the secret prettyboy convention! Those bastards once again were wrong.” She smiles, and doesn’t offer her name. “Evening citizen. I’m hoping you might help me with this absolute crazy missing persons case I’ve been cursed with.”

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“Why, your dear friend or whatever bullshit you said at the time. Asmodai? Isaiah? You know, the guy SOMEBODY in this cursed plane of existence beat all to hell and put in the hospital.”

“Wait, wait, wait. How did he go missing? He couldn't stand, let alone walk? How did you lose him?”

“Yeah! That’s the crazy part, he just. Fucking. Vanished. Shattered kneecaps, pelvis, and all. Gone. Between you and me, that’s on the hospital. We weren’t watching him anymore at that point, but now it IS my problem to, you know. Figure out what the fuck happened and make sure there’s not a homicide investigation that should be happening here.”

Faoust shakes his head in disbelief as he tries to come up with a plan. “I could give you his motel room and location if you want? I mean, I haven't heard from him since I went to go see him?”

“Sure, sure. And it’s not like it’s illegal for him to leave the hospital. If he’s fine, I just need to lay eyes on him. It just seems real fucking suspiciously inconceivable how he’d have managed that in the state he was in, ya know?”

“Yeah, no, for sure. Let me go get some paper.”

Faoust leaves her at the front door and digs around in drawers looking for paper and pen. She stands at the front door, looking inside, pondering Faoust the whole while. He hands her a note with the address of the motel Asmodai had been staying at.

“Let me know if you find anything, yeah?”

Officer Voros takes the paper. “Of course.” She takes a blank card out of her pocket, a generic business card for the police department that doesn’t have her name on it. She writes down a phone number and offers the card to Faoust. “You think of anything else helpful, call or text me. Or if your prettyboy friend Dorien knows anything either.”

“Dorien doesn't know anything. At all. Not a braincell up there. But I'll keep it in mind.” Faoust takes the card and pockets it.

“Thanks. Stay safe citizen.” She heads down the steps and back to her patrol car, looking at the address. She knows the motel.

Officer Voros looks back toward Faoust from her patrol car for a long minute before she pulls out. She doesn’t have any sort of proof necessarily, just a feeling that Faoust was lying quite smoothly out of every side of his head right to her face. She types up a field contact for alias Faoust along with the address before she leaves.

Asmodai’s motel room ends up being a dead end. There’s nothing obviously off about the room, but she gets a weird vibe. Still a suitcase here. Some knives. Nothing much else. She does not discover that the room is under a stolen credit card in another name. She doesn’t look up any other purchases that stolen card might have made to connect it to an abandoned rental car that was impounded on Faoust’s street. She types up her report and deletes “went on a wild fucking goose chase because my corporal is a dickhead” from the report.

Officer Voros swears loudly, because she realizes she didn’t ask Faoust if the mysteriously vanished bastard had. a fucking. cell phone number. She groans. She decides she’ll pretend to have thought of that tomorrow, because she doesn’t want to follow up now.

The weak and cloudy light of morning is scattered further by the cheap, hazy curtains pulled loosely across the window. Isaiah wakes up, still dressed in his stolen clothes where he passed out on top of the covers. There it is—a dull ache in his bones, a twinge in his hips and knees as he pushes himself up to sit. He looks down at his palms, and they are smooth and untroubled, marked by nothing but the simple creases of where his hand folds. He flexes his left hand. The countless scars that had made a tangled nest there in his palm, the countless times he’d cut and called upon blood magic and done only a just-good-enough job of closing the wounds, when he remembered to heal himself at all, they’re all gone.

Isaiah doesn’t even have a knife, he realizes. His...Asmodai’s favored knives were either in the clothes left in the hospital, in the rental car, or in the motel room he has no intention of returning to. But it feels like he should have a knife. He has no money, but money isn’t too necessary when you’re flush with magic and short on moral qualms against stealing.

He heads out for the day to get a knife, zipping up his stolen coat. Something simple. New. He goes to the nearest outdoors store and sees a nice Benchmade folding knife with a black-coated blade and white handle and feels drawn to it. With an effortless bit of magic, the knife disappears from the case and appears in his pocket as he leaves the parking lot.

Isaiah flips the knife open experimentally, admires it, turning his wrist this way and that to see the sides of the blade. He unlocks the blade and closes it again, clipping the knife in his pocket. He doesn’t have a plan for it, but it felt appropriate in his hand.

Isaiah has been somewhat skirting around thinking about this fact, but taking the knife in his hand he has to confront it. He’s not someone who can go work a 9 to 5 job, take a little paycheck home, find someone sweet to love him and love in turn. Whatever he does next isn’t going to be some contented kind of life. That wasn’t the lot he was born to.

What he is good at...all he has ever been good at, is violence.

He walks slowly back to the current motel. He takes the knife out of his pocket, opening and closing it as he goes, thinking to himself. Magic, and violence. Magic and violence. This is all he’s ever known. Even if he wanted to do something else, how could he, at this point? He’s not a good person. And surely nothing he is capable of can be used for good ends. He hasn’t killed anyone in so many days now, and strangest of all, doesn’t feel particularly compelled to. Not averse to it either. But the stirring in his blood that craved to see the icy glint of fear through tears before an untimely death doesn’t move him, for now.

Officer Voros follows up with Faoust the next night, gets a phone number for her missing person, and puts in a request for a ping before taking a nap in her patrol car. She’ll follow up further in daylight hours. Before ending her night shift, Officer Voros tries to call the phone number Faoust provided for the missing person. It’s almost 6am, of course he doesn’t answer. She leaves a voicemail indicating for him to call the communications center so they can speak.

The next day, Officer Voros, as soon as assembly is done, goes to her patrol car and puts herself on a follow up before any calls can be assigned to her. She tries calling the number again. Isaiah looks at his phone. A blocked number. He silences the phone without answering, because who would be calling him? He hasn’t bothered checking his voicemail either, since he didn’t recognize the number that called. He’ll check it eventually. He sits in his motel room, opening and closing his stolen knife.

Officer Voros checks the latitude and longitude of the ping. Another motel. It’s within a mile of what technically counts as her jurisdiction, so technically she CAN go investigate her own damn self, OR she can call her counterparts in the next town over to check for her. She debates which sounds like more work. With an agonized groan that can surely be heard two counties over, Officer Voros puts her patrol car in drive and heads for the motel.

Officer Voros checks with the front desk, but thanks to his use of magic there’s no one checked in by the names of Asmodai or Isaiah James. She pulls up the coordinates on her phone to get as close as possible to the ping, and starts knocking on doors fruitlessly, starting with the ground floor. She has an idea, and dials the number again, and faintly hears a ring from a couple doors down. A little excited in spite of herself, she hustles down to the door and knocks.

Asmodai would’ve checked through the peephole before opening the door, if he opened it at all. Isaiah does not care, and opens the door as he silences his phone again, looking up from the phone at the officer.

“There you are, you mysterious bastard! Alive and unmurdered, and my hatred of paperwork thanks you for that.”

Isaiah feels a slight needle of panic, if only because he has done a lot of things that would not put him on the good side of the police. His eye darts briefly to her neck and back to meet her eyes.

“Here I am. Alive. Unmurdered, as you say.”

Officer Voros looks him up and down, frowning. This is definitely the same guy, that’s not a common scar after all, but he’s clearly not just unmurdered, but very significantly undamaged. “Didn’t you have a hell of a lot of shattered bones?”

Isaiah shrugs. “Modern medicine is a miracle.”

Officer Voros just blinks at him. She doesn’t believe him for a moment. “And I don’t suppose you might be able to tell me how you managed to make your way so secretly out of the hospital that they felt compelled to report you as a missing person?”

“Sorry, no. Not sure what the miscommunication was there. Quite obviously, I left the hospital.”

“Quite. Obviously. Of course.”

Isaiah smiles wanly. “Am I in trouble?”

Officer Voros continues looking him over suspiciously. “I suppose not. You left your paperwork from the hospital.” She hands him a stack of paperwork and billing statements. “Somehow.”

Isaiah takes the papers. “Oh, thanks.”

“And the belongings you came in with. Are still at the hospital.”

“Oops.”

“And a bunch of shit I’m guessing belongs to you is all left at another cheap motel.”

“You think?”

“No,” Officer Voros snaps. “I try to avoid thinking whenever I can. But I do think some weird ass shit is involved here with you.”

Isaiah’s hand twitches slightly, and he presses his lips together. “Hm.”

“But shit being weird isn’t my problem. Not my jurisdiction. So I suppose I don’t give a fuck. Glad you’re not murdered. Take care. Call your friends, they’re pretending to be worried about you.” She heads back to her patrol car.

Isaiah slowly lets out a tensely held breath.

Officer Voros sits in the parking lot, wrapping up her report. She tries calling Faoust from her blocked number. He answers, not knowing any better.

“Solid citizen! Faoust right? Your favorite friend-finding officer here. Found your friend.”

“Oh my god! Where was he? Is he ok?”

“He’s better than ok, considering the state I last saw him in. Damn near miraculous recovery. He’s just outside of town, another motel not far off the highway.”

“Oh man, thanks so much for finding him. I'll have to go see him. Are you able to give me the address?”

“That depends, are you going there to murder him?”

“Why the hell would Igo there to murder him?”

“Aaaa I’m just fucking with you. I’ve got a nice neat solved missing persons case here and if you went and murdered him it would just be an assfuck of paperwork that I don’t want to have to deal with is all.”

“Fucked up joke, officer.”

“Yeah, file a complaint on me if you’d like. Oh, right, address,” she says, and gives him the address and room of the Quality Inn where Isaiah is staying.

“Thank you. Despite the fucked up joke, I'm glad you found him.”

“Just doing my sworn duty and all that. Stay safe citizen,” she says and hangs up.

Without fully realizing it, Officer Voros has solved the first missing persons case in the department in nearly a year.

Officer Voros always keeps a spare portable radio among her belongings. She managed to get it more or less off the record, so that when she inevitably loses track of her actual radio again, she can make do with the backup until the original eventually resurfaces, and not get all manner of shit from her corporal for losing her radio AGAIN. She doesn’t think hard on the fact that her radio is once again MIA. It will turn up in time.

In his motel room, Isaiah switches the radio on, and fiddles between channels.

Isaiah lays on the bed, one hand manipulating the knife—open, closed, open, closed, each motion with a satisfying little sound—the other hand resting on the radio on his chest, occasionally following the chatter of traffic to a side channel. An officer keys up, her voice annoyed and muttering over sounds of entitlement in the background—“6676 to 200, switch to 2”—and Isaiah flips the radio to channel 2, partly because he is curious and partly because it sounds like the officer from the other night.

The officer keys up, he’s quite sure it’s her, and a voice that sounds like it expects the world laid compliantly at its feet cuts through the backdrop of everything the officer says

6676: 200 you on?

—this is AMERICA, I have RIGHTS, I demand to speak to your SUPERVISOR, I—

200: go’on whatcha got

—what is your NAME, no WHAT is your NAME—

6676: *you can hear the eye roll in her voice* can you just come over here and deal with this.

There’s a final indignant “do you even KNOW” in the background before the supervisor cuts over the traffic to advise he’s en route. Isaiah’s thumb closes the knife again with a sense of finality. He doesn’t care about the officers, but the woman in the background had the sort of voice you’d love to cut right out of her throat.

Isaiah sits up, goes to put the radio aside but pulls it back in front of him again. He focuses on the radio, whatever traces of grit and grime and little skin cells from the officer still stick to the plasticky radio, and does a tracking spell. He switches the radio off, puts it on the bedside table, and grabs his jacket on the way out the door.

Isaiah returns to his motel room. Hands clean. Knife clean.

He did not appear with an ear-splitting bang, as the witch does. He knows ways to move through shadows and though it isn’t instantaneous, it’s a hell of a lot quieter. Isaiah remained in the shadows, waiting. There, yes, the officer from the other night, and there, that must be 200, the human embodiment of an industrial refrigerator crossed with a boulder, and there. Jabbing her finger, practically frothing at the mouth, hair crisply cut, every line in her body set in the conviction of her own righteousness and that she should get what she wants. Isaiah didn’t even try to listen to what she was saying. It didn’t matter. He waited.

When the officers left, the woman turned to her minivan to get in. Or, that was what she intended to do. But she found as she walked, it was like her body was being pushed and pulled, and the sound had left her voice, and she walked into the shadows across the parking lot.

Without saying a word, Isaiah came up quickly behind her and slit her throat, and before a drop could hit the concrete sent her body and all its rapidly spilling blood deep, deep into the earth below.

Magic cleaned the knife. Magic cleaned his hands. He slipped back into the shadows and hurried to get the hell back out of Faoust’s town.

Isaiah returned to his motel room, everything clean. Feeling a certain ...satisfaction? Correctness? A bit of lost unease dissolved away within him.

Of course, Isaiah reflects on how different this murder was. He flicks the knife, open and closed. When he thinks of himself as he was, he has gotten in the habit of thinking of himself as an entirely separate person now. Asmodai was. Asmodai would have. So on. Asmodai would have taken far more enjoyment from the killing. Asmodai would have tasted the blood on the knife. Asmodai would have savored the delicious fear in her eyes, for as long as possible. Asmodai would have had the possibility of someone to share the experience with, though he resented so much about that fact. Asmodai was an idiot.

Isaiah switches the radio back on, quietly, to have something to listen to, since that’s all he has.

When Officer Voros was handling the latest missing person case early this morning, part of her was perversely satisfied—maybe that bitch descended back to hell where she belonged—and that other part of her, the part made of intuitions that guessed too correctly, that had long ago tried to bring up things that had since gone ignored, the part that she did her best to keep buried, that part felt a sharp jolt of unease. She was, officially, the last person to have seen the missing person. There was a security camera on the other side of the parking lot, and the footage made no sense. The victim—victim? Why was she already thinking victim?—missing bitch, then, started walking to her car, and then turned, and walked off to the far side of the parking lot, into grainy shadow. It didn’t look like someone had called out to her, she just...decided to go on some random bitch walk. In the dark of early morning hours, Officer Voros walked around the spot she went off to, clicking on her flashlight, looking for clues. Nothing.

It seemed appropriate for Isaiah to return to murder on his own...it’s all he knows. He’s not suddenly a good person. He’s not full of remorse for everything he did. It’s all just facts. Things that happened that can’t be changed.

He listens to the radio again today, and thinks with a sort of mirthless chuckle how hypocritical it would be for him to kill some of the people he’s hearing about. “If I were cutting throats for that, have to start with myself,” he thinks, over and over and over. Asmodai craved victims, sought them out. Isaiah is content to see what serendipity will bring.

Isaiah struck out into town yesterday to find a charger for his stolen radio. Listening gives him something to do besides think. He could have just gotten a commercial police scanner, or used an app on his phone to listen in, but that didn’t have the same appeal. He listens carefully, mentally keeping track of the addresses and where the officers are, when it’s announced anyway. The officer from the other night he can find easily enough, but without addresses and nothing to trace them with, magically speaking, finding any of these other officers would be incredibly difficult. Well, to do in a timely fashion anyway.

So he listens, and waits, hoping to feel that same jolt of dead certainty, knowing a voice spoke that would be his to kill.

Isaiah knows. An officer keys up “put me out with an animal problem at” and gives an address, and just before the radio cuts out he hears a man in the background, derisive, say “I don’t understand, it’s just a stupid—“ before being cut off by the end of the transmission. That voice. He felt it, like a nail being slashed at high speed across a chalkboard, a string plucked so hard it snaps, THAT is a man he needs to kill. He is equal parts thrilled and yet feels the calm certainty slipping over him. His knife is ready. He knows where to go. He slips out into the cold rain.

Sliding through shadows. Waiting. The man goes inside, alone. Isaiah slips inside, without a word, the only sound made is his knife blade locking into place. The man finds his voice is gone. The man walks toward Isaiah, against his own will, and kneels before him, fear shining in his eyes. Isaiah looks down, cold, comes around from behind, threads his fingers in the man’s hair and pulls back, hard, exposing his neck. He draws the blade firm and fast across the neck, and like the woman before Isaiah sends the body hundreds of feet into the ground below before a drop of blood can hit the floor.

He looks at the blood on the knife, for a moment, imagines the taste on his tongue like a mouth full of pennies. It doesn’t appeal to him, not right now. Magic cleans the blade, cleans the bit of blood on his hands, cleans the scene of any trace evidence, and Isaiah slips away.

- NEXT SNIPPET -

#an ill-fitting name #My writing #original story #collaborative fiction #Original work #original writing #original fiction #magic fiction #Magic murderer #Snippets #fictional murder #fictional murderer #Fictional incompetent police

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ellaenchanting · 4 years

Text

Request Fic for @ragezdasta

Prompt:” Normal hypnotherapy uncovers a person's dark hypnokinky past that was previously erased via intense memory play. “

Warning: This is not how any of this actually works.

Mistress owns my body. Mistress owns my soul. I am broken for mistress. Mistress owns my body. Mistress owns my soul. I am broken for mistress.

The voice droned on and on.

Clara was beginning to panic. She looked over at her couch and her frenzied client. Marianne's eyes were open, staring vacantly at nothing. Her voice was pitched high and frantic, like she was pleading with someone or engaging in some ecstatic ritual. Her breathing was high and fast. Her body was frozen as though in terror- except for one hand that slowly and absently rubbed at her cunt.

Clara pulled her limp hand away.

It lingered in the air for a moment before resuming its’ teasing.

It was though she couldn't even feel it, Clara thought.

For the first time in her hypnotherapy career, Clara had no idea what to do.

After last week's disastrous meeting, she wasn't surprised when Marianne had called to schedule an emergency session a few days later. During her first few sessions, Marianne and Clara had decided to try a memory regression to help discover the cause of Marianne's sexual reluctance with her fiance. But last week, when the regression had actually happened and Clara began to question her, Marianne had stiffened like a frightened animal. A look of shock had come over her face and she began reciting the same statements about being owned and broken, over and over. Her voice was both detached sounding and determined. It reminded Clara of watching possession movies.

Clara had tried to question Marianne further. She had even taken great pains to reassure her that she was safe and that it was OK to remember. But, despite everything, Marianne would only stare, recite, and touch. All Clara could do was talk her through an old trauma amnesia procedure- showing her how to box up this side of herself for the time being. She had been incredibly relieved when Marianne had come back to her regular self by the end of their session. At least, Clara thought, that would give her another week to think about what to do next.

Clara didn't get her week. Marianne might not have remembered what happened during her regression- Clara had been careful to help her repress THAT information- but apparently Marianne had been suffering from ill effects anyway. She had told Clara that she hadn't been able to work, she hadn't been able to spend time with her fiance, she hadn't even been able to THINK properly since their last session. She found herself awaking from stupors only to realize with dread that hours had passed. Sometimes Marianne "woke up" wearing different clothes or in places that she didn't recognize. The only thing that Marianne could blame was her hypnotherapy appointment. She called and demanded that Clara see and fix her immediately- and threatened to sue her for malpractice if she didn't.

Clara desperately contacted all of her mentors before the session began to get help brainstorming how to help with Marianne's memory block. No one had seen anything like it before. Clara had taken notes on their ideas and tried all of their suggestions anyway . She even tried the "boxing up" trick that had helped last week.

No luck.

Clara looked at the masturbating woman across the room. If anything, Marianne had seemed to retreat deeper and deeper into herself over time, becoming more and more lost.

She began to have a sinking suspicion.

The mantras Marianne recited sang out to Clara. They were familiar, like the lyrics to a forgotten childhood song. A few times, she even had a vivid flash of herself, lying in a similar position and brokenly reciting the same words of devotion. It was worrying- like feeling a new ache in a tooth that had long since gone dead.

It wasn't Clara who had broken Marianne. But she recognized the work of the one who had.

She decided to call Desiree. Her first mentor.

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

Fortunately, Desiree picked up on the first ring.

"Clara, dear, how are you? How's your practice? I've been sending you referrals, you know!"

Desiree's voice was cheery and kind. Clara reluctantly noted that it still pulled on her attention, giving her little sparks of happiness that felt particularly unwelcome in her current circumstances. She respected Desiree's skill immensely but she knew she could never trust her. Not after what had happened between them.

She wasn't going to get pulled into Desiree's chit chat. "Do you know a Marianne Thomas?" Clara replied, accusingly.

Desiree seemed puzzled. "I don't recall that name. Did she mention knowing me? Clara, dear, you sound so strange! What's wrong?"

Clara sighed. Took a picture of her masturbating patient. Hit send. Waited.

There was a long pause from the other side of the line. "Oh," Desiree finally replied, hesitantly. "I forgot that she was Marianne now."

Clara let the silence play out. She was too pissed off to speak.

When Desiree continued, her voice was regretful. "Laura- or I guess Marianne now- was my first. Twenty years ago. She was like you were when you were younger- she came to me saying that she had no limits and wanted to be completely broken. Completely brainwashed. There were...I didn't know exactly what I was doing at the time. There was no one to ask, no idea that that could be done safely. We didn't WANT it to be done safely. And we were both consenting adults.”

“I was curious about what I could do to her- what the limits were. I read up on cults, on psychological torture. I had all sorts of plans. I would keep her up all night, feed her very little, make her listen to my voice in her sleep. I knew she was becoming REALLY mine when she would only focus on her brainwashing. She started to punish herself for disobedience without prompting- and she'd reward herself the more mindless and obedient she became. That was really hot. I didn't want it to stop. Even when I felt like I was losing control of it, it was hot. I didn't...I didn't quite believe it was real back then. I thought we were mostly roleplaying, engaging in a collective fantasy. I was only doing what she wanted.”

“But, over time, Laura began to fade and disappear. She quit her job. I was fine with that- I made enough to support her and I liked having a brainwashed housekeeper in the home. She stopped seeing her friends. She even stopped responding to her name. It was like her personality just drained out. Towards the end, when she wasn't actively obeying me, she would just sit there in a stupor. Like she wasn't even a person.”

“At one point I even tried to get Laura back. I would tell her that she WAS Laura right now, that she could act like Laura. And she would..for a few minutes. But she couldn't sustain it. Laura wasn't there anymore-not really. She was only my slave.”

“And- well...that wasn't what I wanted.”

“I felt responsible for her, of course. I stayed....another 6 months after I knew it had to end. But- I couldn't condemn myself to be stuck as her caretaker forever. Not over a genuine mistake.”

“I did my research- even tracked down and paid a good amount of money for some black market MKULTRA info. I figured out how they built a new personality in their sleeper agents, one that could function in day to day life. One that would feel real and whole to my slave in a way that Laura didn't anymore. One that didn't have to remember what Laura had been through.”

“And so...that's when I made Marianne."

Desiree's usually-confident voice had become more and more shakey as her story went on. She sighed.

Clara felt no sympathy. "So why is your Marianne stuck reciting mantras on my couch?" asked Clara, shortly. "And how do I fix her?"

"I'm guessing you tried a regression?" asked Desiree.

"Yes," said Clara, her voice cold. "She was having sexual compatibility problems. With her fiance."

"Fuck," said Desiree. "Of course she was. I never thought she'd manage to HAVE a fiance. OK, so you must have gotten her under deeply enough that she remembered her old self. It's like her old slave programming is coming through and she's trying to erase Marianne in the same way that she erased Laura."

"We've been here for 3 hours," said Clara impatiently, gripping her phone. "Her fiance will be looking for her soon. This is your responsibility. You need to come here. Fix her."

"That's a bad idea," frowned Desiree. "I think my going there would just...encourage the process. She needs more help than you'll be able to give right now. Let me think. Can I put you on hold for a minute?"

"What?! No you can't-" Clara exclaimed, just as the phone went mute.

She paced her office, frustrated and angry.

After some time, Desiree's voice came back on the other line. She sounded calmer now. More in control. Clara felt something inside her shift.

"OK, Clara- listen carefully. This is what we're going to do. You're going to call and arrange for an involuntary commitment for Marianne at the Cedar Crest psych hospital. Tell them that she's hearing voices that are telling her to harm herself. You may even want to suggest to her that she HEARS voices before you go- she's way more open to suggestion right now that she appears. You'll drive her to their admissions department. Dr Marshall will meet you there- he's a close friend and I've told him enough that he can handle the situation. A commitment will give him a few days to do so more thoroughly. Dr. Marshall can contact Marianne's fiance- you needn't bother. You'll return to your office and call me back. Understand?"

Clara wanted to object. This was completely unethical. She shouldn't let Desiree talk her into participating in this.

"I understand, ma'am", she heard her voice saying, as if from a great distance.

Desiree sounded relieved. "Good girl. Now go make your calls."

Clara hung up the phone, feeling clear and steady. She knew what she needed to do next.

#prompts #my writing #stories #evil hypnotherapy #involuntary evil hypnotherapy?#voluntary evil non-hypnotherapy #brainwashing #old cold war myths

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