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comfortless · 6 months

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Outside they say you’re alright (chapter 1 of ?)

🌱 PAIRING: König x fem!reader 🌾 CONTENT: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. fae au. blanket warning for death, violence, very light horror elements <— comes with the territory; all of this being said it’s still cozy and sweet here!!, not even remotely canon compliant, slow burn, eventual smut. chapter specific warnings: animal death (bird), implied ghoap, minor character death (but not really, hold tight!), non-consensual cuddling. 🍃 NOTES: this is my first time writing in a long stretch, but after finishing Meeting the Other Crowd i had to write this lest i wound up chewing thru my own fist. later chapters may have additional warnings added. not proofread. wc: 7.9k

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The season of turning leaves, of the harvest moon, of a waning veil; it feels as though the entire world calls for change. Packing to move feels less arduous when the very earth is moving along with you, shifting her shape to bring in the autumn, the winter. Autumn feels less intense in the city. Concrete and vehicles don’t naturally shed their skins, hibernate, bed down and cozy up by a warm hearth. There’s a significant lack of trees and wildlife, all uprooted and shed away to make room for more human comforts. It’s never felt like home to you.

It’s almost funny how in your desperation to be untethered from an unwelcoming, pristine and metallic skyline, you’ve managed to neatly pack away your entire life into a mere two bags. Everything that wasn’t utterly necessary or sentimental donated or tossed into the garbage behind your former apartment. You know it’s a silly thing to believe a new roof over your head in an unfamiliar town a few hours venture away will change your entire life, but just as the leaves turn you feel it’s your moment to follow suit.

Kate hadn’t made you pay anything in advance. No deposits, no frivolous faxing of paperwork, Kate had requested nothing but email correspondence, and perhaps that should have set off some instinctual alarm bell in your head. Yet, you had been in contact with this woman for weeks, and you hadn’t picked up on anything odd in the eloquent responses Kate had given. The woman answered all of your questions with ease, and even had the decency to ask if there was anything she could do to make the move more bearable.

You found Kate’s listing on craigslist of all places— a humble little ad showing off a barren room in a small cottage located in the middle of nowhere, some mountainside town down south that you had never heard the name of prior. It was impulse that led you to reach out, typing out a sloppily worded email in the midst of another sleepless night expressing your interest in the room and a few words about yourself. Kate didn’t waste any time with her response, declaring that she felt you would fit in well in the home and things progressed naturally. You had decided that you liked Kate already.

But nothing could have prepared you for actually meeting Kate Laswell.

As you park your little, beaten down sedan in the forested driveway, you takes a moment to calm your nerves. A six hour drive has left you feeling as though you’re in an entirely different world— around the midway point in your journey was the last time you had actually seen a town. There’s a sense of apprehension building, and yet it does little to fully snuff out the excitement.

The cottage laid out before you is off-white in color with a grayish-brown roof, blanketed by tendrils of hedera helix curling up each corner of the home and meeting in a cluster on the roof. The fence surrounding the property, wooden and worn seemed more decorative than any protection against anything getting in or out. ‘Quaint’ was the only word that seemed to come to mind as you step out of the vehicle and move to the trunk to collect your meager belongings.

And as the trunk of the vehicle slams shut, you’re met with the sight of a gentle-looking woman sprinting toward you from the cottage, a bright, welcoming smile on her face and an oversized yellow cardigan draped ‘round her shoulders. “So glad you made it,” Kate greets warmly. “Need help with your bags?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Didn’t bring much.” You reply, and for the first time in months, you feel your heart begin to settle in your chest. This was good. The stress of the city seemed to retract its claws from your shoulders the moment you take a good look at Kate and the cottage behind her. The woman is older, soft lines visible on her face. She was fragile looking like a twittering little bird, but there was something in her eyes that suggested she was much more than her stature. Maybe not a robin at all, but a red-tailed hawk instead. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and the clothing she wore looked comfortable, a loose fitting white blouse, jeans, and the cardigan you wonder if she may have even knitted herself.

“Well, come in then. We’ll get you settled and have tea, or whiskey if you would prefer it.” Kate says with a wink, taking you by the hand and pulling you up the gravel-laden trail towards the door. Sparrows are nesting in the trees above, clover, sourgrass and wildflowers springing up in a viridian and brown blanket beneath your feet, and the dirt feels far more forgiving against the soles of your boots than the pavement of the city ever did. This already feels like home. “Just tea would be fine.”

Kate shows you around the cottage with pride, and you find that it’s entirely deserved. The home is immaculately tidy, albeit a tad cluttered. The woman had all sorts of strange baubles and crafts lining walls and shelves, books of all nature (even an extensive romance section you had found yourself drawn to, Kate had laughed at the sight of your eyes lingering on the spines as you read the suggestive titles), her furniture was all clean and patterned. Your room nearly brings you to tears. It was still rather empty, just as the pictures in the listing had suggested, with only a bed, dresser and vanity furnishing it. However, in the windowsill sits a blue planter with your name delicately painted on the front of it.

“A lily,” Kate informs you, smiling soft as you gaze down at the little green bulb in the pot. You ghost your fingertips over the rim of it as you tilt your head to look back at Kate, both confusion and gratefulness painting your expression. Kate’s smile doesn’t waver as she steps to your side and gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze. Her kindness has already made you trusting, and it seems with every action she takes you feel more at peace, as though Kate were merely an estranged aunt rather than a complete stranger. “I thought a lily might suit you. It might still be early enough for her to bloom.” You whisper a thanks, returning her smile with one of your own. The thoughtfulness of such a simple gesture warms your heart in a way that you hadn’t felt in some time. You make a mental note to read up on plant care to ensure Kate’s gift doesn’t go neglected.

She waits to lead you into the kitchen and dining area until after you had put away your things and have properly seen your room. The rooms are just as well cared for as the rest of the cottage, every item in its proper place, the sink cleared and a knitted doily placed in the center of the range. The table is what catches your eye most of all though— a fat loaf of fresh baked bread placed carefully on a platter next to small serving dishes filled with honey and jam, a tea kettle and two floral painted mugs set neatly just beside the display. It looks more like a painting than any meal you’ve seen before, far too accustomed to quick snacks and dull fast food bags. In the city, working so much just to ensure that you still had your apartment to come back to, the time it would take to prepare something even as simple as this was never something you could expend.

“This looks… it’s lovely, Miss Laswell,” You breathe out shyly, taking a seat at the table, your fingers flexing slightly. This kind of welcoming felt so foreign, not that you minded it. Not at all.

“Please just call me Kate.” She says with a laugh, pouring out a generous mug of tea for you and sliding it across the table as she takes place on the opposite end. Her smile is infectious, warming your heart and causing the corners of your mouth to tug upward, too.

“Kate.” You say aloud, committing it to memory. You wanted to be respectful. This was her home, you were just a temporary guest after all. You accept the mug of tea with a thankful nod of acknowledgement before taking a small sip. Warm. Everything about Kate’s home and her demeanor is so warm. Even in the midst of autumn, there’s no chill here, only tenderness and warmth as though some invisible hearth roars in the corner of every room. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me.”

Kate hesitates for a moment, and had you blinked you would have missed the way her thin shoulders seemed to tense and the lines at the corners of her mouth visibly tightened. She parts her lips to speak, eying you carefully before… she merely reaches across the table to slice you off a plump helping of the bread, scooting the bowls of jam and honey in your direction.

You wonder if somehow your words had offended her, and you wished you could retract them, snatch the fluttering of your voice from thin air, but as quickly as that thought comes, Kate sighs.

“Well, I haven’t been entirely upfront with you, dear,” Kate begins in a soft voice, tilting her head as she sips her own tea. Your eyes widen in surprise at her words, uncertain as to what weight they carry. Your thoughts immediately veer in the worst direction— perhaps she wasn’t offering the room as long as the listing stated, and you had no where else to go. Perhaps someone else lived here too, someone dangerous.

“What do you mean?”

“The neighbors come around sometimes.” She says, and it almost pulls a giggle from you. Neighbors? You hadn’t seen any other homes on the way up here, and having lived in an apartment complex you were used to all manner of folks, from the loud, the strange, the elderly and standoffish. You give her a little shrug in response, unsure of what to say to such a silly thing.

“You’ve just got to understand how to deal with them if you see them,” Kate continues, her mouth pressed to a thin line as she regards you. There’s that sharp look in her eye that suggests she really isn’t kidding around, that there may even be a threat if you didn’t hold what she says next with the highest regard. You feel a swell of unease, but give the woman your rapt attention, not even bothering with the bread on your plate despite the way your stomach grumbles, quiet but demanding. “Don’t eat their food, never give them your name. Don’t thank them either, even if you break your ankle on a hike and one stops to help. No thanking them.”

You laugh. This had to be some silly joke, harmless hazing for the new roomie. Your mirthful giggles die in your throat when you meet Kate’s gaze again and her expression is entirely grave— gone was the soft smile and the twinkle in her eyes, and you’re quickly reminded as to why you thought of a hawk when you first saw that look in her eye.

“Kate… I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

She toys with the handle of her mug for a moment, watching as if to ensure your amusement has entirely died out before she graces you with another word. “Dear, I know I sound like I have bats in the belfry, but I need you to listen to me.” A heavy sigh leaves her lips after her words and her brow pinches as if she’s trying to consider the best possible way to explain this farfetched idea of her neighbors to you in a way that’s easy enough to digest without giving too much away. “Perhaps meeting one of them would be the best way to show you.” She mumbles as she sets her mug aside and stands from her chair. You remain dumbstruck in your seat, watching as she pulls her yellow cardigan tighter around herself before fumbling around in the kitchen to retrieve a small woven basket. Kate places two thick slices of bread inside and the little dish of honey too as you watch on.

“Sure.” You say with a quizzical tilt of your head. You didn’t want to insult your new roommate further, and she seemed deadly serious about this strange concept. Maybe it was best to appease her, and meeting other folks that lived out here didn’t seem like too arduous a task. Kate flashes you that smile again as you agree and offers the basket out to you. Your fingers curl around the stiff handle as you stand and bring it closer to your person.

“There’s a little walking trail out back that leads straight up the hill to the cemetery. Ghost should be there.”

“Ghost?” A ghost in the cemetery. How fitting.

Kate breathes a laugh and shakes her head. You’re pleased to see the tension has left her, she seemed at ease and just as sweet as she had when she rushed to greet you earlier. “Not really a ghost,” she explains with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You’ll see. He’s a bit… prickly at times, but he’s harmless enough. Just take him the bread and you’ll see.” Harmless, you want to tell her, is what most people should be expected to be without graceful description. ‘Are the others harmful, then?’, your mind supplies, as if trying to make you feel closer to a side character in some low budget horror film. Something was certainly off here, but you don’t find yourself questioning it further.

Kate leads you to the back door, unlatching a chain lock before unlocking the deadbolt and pushing the door open. The hinges whine as she directs you toward the trail with a pointed finger. And, with an encouraging pat on the shoulder, she pushes you out of the door. You can hear the tinkling of the chain and the thump of the deadbolt as she locks it behind her. You don’t know whether to side more with the anxiety building in your chest or the frustration burning at your stomach after finding yourself in this situation. So maybe Kate did have ‘bats in the belfry’ as she had called it. What woman would have invited a complete stranger to come live with her in the middle of no where, after all. But this was only your first day here, and you knew you had to make the most of it. Where else could you possibly go?

At least she was nice. The tea had been perfect, too. With a sigh, you decide to overlook her eccentricities for now as you start walking towards the trail. Your pace is brisk, orange and red fallen leaves crunching with each step as you meander up the thin, forested trail. The chill of an autumn breeze pushes through the trees with ease, shaking a flurry of dead leaves from dark branches to whirl around you, one landing gently on the shoulder of your coat. You pluck it off, twirling the stem between the fingers of your free hand as you walk.

The cemetery comes into view about half an hour later. The peaks of moss covered tombstones rise up over the hill, and you’re surprised to find that the old graveyard isn’t entirely overgrown. Some thorn bushes border the backside of the small clearing, trees towering so high to either side it almost roofs the area in entirely apart from a center circle where sunlight beams in. It’s quiet apart from the splintering of leaves beneath your soles and it dawns on you that you haven’t heard a sound not pulled from your own being since you started your short journey here.

You look around for this supposed ‘Ghost’ for a few moments, scanning both behind and above the tombstones. There’s nothing and no one to be seen, just a heavy silence and carpeting moss over stone that hasn’t been touched in what looked like centuries. You didn’t want to return too soon for fear of Kate not taking too kindly to it, you couldn’t run the risk of being cast out, even if the thought of her doing such a thing already felt uncharacteristic and outlandish.

So, you kneel in front of a larger headstone, fishing out a slice of bread from the basket and smoothing honey over it with the butter knife Kate had placed inside. The engraving was entirely illegible, worn away by the elements, and with so much moss encompassing it you doubt you could have read it anyway even if it hadn’t been so neglected. The bread, still warm and soft is nibbled at as you inspect some of the other graves, all in the same state of disrepair. A part of you wishes you had plucked some wildflowers on the walk, perhaps you could have given some restless spirit the satisfaction of not being forgotten.

A clipped ‘woof’ pries you from your thoughts, a deep and breathy sound that sends a chill down each bony knob of your spine as you whip around to face whatever had made the noise. You’re met with the view of a massive dog standing a mere three meters away. The animal’s fur was a coarse, wiry black, it’s eyes just as dark. It regards you with its ears flattened back against its skull, dark lips pulled back in a snarl, though it doesn’t growl. In fact, the creatures tail betrays this display of intimidation as it wags lazily behind it.

You break a corner of the bread off and extend your hand out to the dog, cooing softly to it and encouraging it to approach. The dog huffs, ears flicking forward. It watches you for several long moments before stiffly walking towards you, accepting the bread into its large mouth and swallowing it down without so much as a courtesy chew. Up close, you can’t discern what breed of dog this is at all. His ears were long and floppy, descending down past his maw, his hair looked stiff and rough almost like a wolfhound’s but it was much shaggier, longer.

“Good boy.” You chirp, reaching up to lightly ghost your fingers over the crown of the dog’s skull. The dog recoils with another huff, and for a moment you almost think you see his eyes narrow as if he were glaring at you— a silent ‘do not touch’. Your hand retreats and you mutter an apology out to the creature. The dog doesn’t move, standing still as a statue as it watches you fiddle with the handle of the basket and rise to your feet.

So, no Ghost, but you did meet a dog. That would have to do for now. You were exhausted from the drive, and more than anything you wanted to be in the warmth of a building, away from the volatile breeze and the eerie silence of the graveyard.

“Wait.” A voice rasps as you turn back to the trail. Everywhere and no where at once it comes and the feeling that arrives with it, so peaceful yet uncanny. Just like before, you don’t hear the dog approach, but you feel the cold of a wet nose press against your palm. His mouth opens, grazing your fingertips with his teeth as you whip your head around to look down at the creature, eyes wide and brows raised in shock. What?

You wrench your hand away from the dog, uncertainty sending a violent shiver down your spine. Surely the animal couldn’t’ve …

“F’me, wasn’t it?”

It’s not your mind playing tricks from the emptiness of the graveyard.

The dog spoke, rough and deep and accented.

The creature’s tail wags languidly behind him as he stares up at you expectantly, big paws placed firmly in a moss bed below with long, black claws curved into it.

“P-pardon?” You manage to breathe out, voice tight as your chest rises and falls rapidly with shallow, panicked breaths. This was impossible, you knew it. As a child you had spent countless hours trying to get your childhood pet to utter a single ‘I love you’ to no avail, and yet this dog before you seemed to find human speech as simple as inhaling or flicking his ears. The dog huffs, his dark eyes rolling, and you realize the animal does not simply speak, it finds you amusing too.

He noses at the basket, sniffling deeply at the food within before peering up at you in silent demand. You part your lips in a small ‘o’, lowering the basket to the mossy floor. The dog doesn’t spare you another glance as his tongue lolls out to lap at the dish of honey and draw the bread between rows of hungry teeth. He eats quickly and with all the grace of any normal canine, crumbs dotting the fur surrounding his mouth as he raises his head to regard you.

“You just… you spoke to me?” You question, your knees wobbling in surprise. Perhaps if he didn’t have the look of a cute dog, you would have been more fearful. “You talk?”

The dog tilts his head before sniffing at your boot for a moment only to raise his head back as he settles onto his haunches. The animals ears perk up, still flopping at the ends, almost covering his dark eyes.

“You smell like Kate.” He speaks, but his mouth doesn’t move. In fact, his entire body remains rigid and still, a graveyard statue blessed with the breath of life.

Something clicks as his words register. This isn’t just some extraordinary talking dog, this was the Ghost Kate had mentioned. Your eyes finally relax, there’s no more look of surprise, there’s no more unease. Having a talking dog for a neighbor seemed so much better than dealing with Mr. Thomson, stumbling back into the apartment complex after a long night drinking, singing his curses to the city, to the world itself.

Ghost was just fine.

Emboldened by this sudden realization, you reach out to the dog again. “Ghost,” you say with a hint of a smile. “You’re awful cute, aren’t you?” A giggle escapes you as you see he’s not moving away this time, but diligently sniffing at your hand. The dog pauses after a moment, flashing a hint of teeth at you. It’s not aggressive, you realize. Perhaps, he’s not the best with people.

“An’ you’re awful chummy, girl.” The dog snorts, turning his head away indignantly. So this one had a bit of an attitude, you let it roll off the shoulder. Surely he would warm up, talking or not, most stray dogs had a tendency to. You retract your hand and collect the empty basket and the dog gives you a slight nod in approval.

“I’ll walk ya back.”

— — —

The walk back to Kate’s cottage felt longer than the hike up to the graveyard. Ghost didn’t seem very keen on talking to you, despite his offer to escort you home. He padded in front of you with hurried steps, only circling back to nip at your heels every now and then if he felt you were trailing too far behind him. You didn’t yet know that there were other eyes in the forest observing the two of you. Each time a branch snapped behind or to either side of you, or when footsteps or laughter could be heard some distance away, Ghost would dart behind you to mouth at the leather of your boot with a low growl to keep you from looking at anything apart from the roof of the cottage as you approached.

After the third bite, with the cottage in full view you finally stop in your tracks, reaching down to ruffle his ears. “Why do you keep doing that?” You ask, an air of annoyance to your tone as you note the indents of fangs in your boots— the only pair of shoes you had even brought with you, already covered in drool and bite marks by some magical dog you hardly knew.

Ghost snorts, dark eyes locked on your face as he circles back around you. “You’ve got lead in your head or your shoes girl, which is it?”

You puff your cheeks in a slight pout, half a mind to knock his fuzzy head with the basket in your hands. “Neither,” you mutter, carrying on towards the cottage. “Stop biting me.”

Ghost shakes his shaggy head, opting to press his mouth to your hand in a silent order to get you moving again. You oblige, leaving the dog behind as you make it to the back door of the small house. You knock once, and already hear the sounds of the locks unlatching just beyond the wooden door. The door swings open, and Kate stands there in silence. face paled.

Ghost lets out a low bark somewhere behind you as you wave him off. Kate smiles broadly at the dog before turning to look at you just as he scampers back up the trail, no doubt back to the graveyard he had appeared in.

“I apologize, dear,” she breathes out, ushering you back inside. She looks incredibly apologetic as she takes your shoulders and turns you around to face her. Her tone remains a cross between stern and reassuring, and you feel a swell of guilt, almost like you should be comforting her rather than the opposite.

You explain to her that Ghost didn’t frighten you, and she settles immediately, a sigh of relief leaving her lips. You return the basket to its proper place, stored on a shelf high up in the pantry as you tell Kate about your interaction with the strange, talking graveyard dog.

“Sounds like he likes you.” Kate responds followed with a soft laugh. You notice she’s cleared the table of breakfast, only neatly crocheted doilies in place of where the two of you had sat earlier that morning. “He wouldn’t speak to me the first day we met.”

You shake your head in protest, gesturing towards the marks from his teeth in your boot. “He bit me!” You whine, earning another laugh from Kate. You crouch down to untie your boots, pulling them off of your feet, the woman kneels next to you and pries the boots from your hands with gentle, aged hands. She runs her thumb over the indentations with a hum.

“I should be able to fix them.”

“Really?”

Kate nods, standing to her feet and offering you her free hand. You take it, straightening yourself out. The room smells of lemongrass and lavender, the flickering glow of a large candle placed neatly on a side table housing a few choice pieces of fine china.

You watch as Kate takes your boots to her room, no doubt where whatever supplies she deemed useful enough to fix them lay in wait. She returns roughly a half hour later with them graciously repaired, and you’re uncertain of how she’s managed such a feat to the extent she has— no more indentations, no scuffs on the leather. They look new, something you haven’t seen since the day you purchased them.

You thank her graciously with a little bow of your head and you and Kate fall into a comfortable conversation. She tells you that there are many others like Ghost, that some of them look human but aren’t, that some are no more than groaning shadows or looming abysses of fur and sharp claws. Kate diligently reiterates her rules from earlier, and though you weren’t quite sure you believed her entirely about the dangers of these ‘neighbors’, you nod along enthusiastically.

“So, if Ghost is just a dog, why doesn’t he live here? With you? Winter gets cold in places like this,” you breathe out, seated on the opposite end of the floral patterned loveseat next to Kate.

“Oh? He didn’t show you then.” Kate laughs. She’s brewed another kettle of tea and she dispenses the amber fluid between two mugs. “I suppose he didn’t want to frighten you off, but he’s no dog.”

Your eyes widen, and you’re uncertain as to why Kate’s words fill you with dread, a cold spike through the chest that sends a shiver down each ridge of your spine. Ghost hadn’t hurt you, of course. He didn’t even seem to be entertaining any idea other than eating and walking you home. Maybe a bit pushy, but otherwise a proper gentle…dog. Your head tilts, wordlessly asking Kate to fully explain what Ghost may have been hiding.

“He’s a big guy,” is all she says as she takes a long sip from her tea. You open your mouth to speak again, but all of a sudden the scent of tobacco fills your lungs, swirls around the entire room as though it was emanating from the walls itself. You stifle a cough with your palm pressed flat against your lips and Kate laughs. Yet, as you glance about the den, you see no one else. Paranoia? But Kate seemed to have smelled it too. “Not me, dear.” She says quietly.

“… what are they?” You question, voice wavering. The scent of tobacco seems to grow stronger then dissipate after a few moments only to return.

“The good folk,” comes Kate’s immediate reply as she stands, clapping her palms against her thighs with an exasperated sigh. She tilts her head to look down at you with a small smile. “This one’s nice enough, too. Don’t worry.” Despite the waves of scent that drift in and out of the room, nothing else seems to appear. With everything that’s happened today, a part of you expects to meet with a sentient cigarette at Kate’s words, but… nothing.

— — —

As the days pass, you and Kate fall into a sort of routine. The woman will tell you the most unbelievable things with a smile on her face, and you find almost too quickly that everything she says is true. This place feels holy in a sense. It’s no church, but things of myth seem to embedded themselves into the walls, singing like a choir in the dead of night. You swear you hear Kate talking to someone some nights, a man’s voice booming through the cottage. They share laughs and the scent of a cigar ebbs and flows, but every time you’ve tried to steal a peek at this visitor, he seems to vanish the moment you step out of your room. Maybe you would think him rude if you knew for certain he existed at all.

Your mind tends to play tricks after the stress of leaving behind everything you knew, uprooting your entire life to come here. On the second day, you lose your car keys. You had placed them on your nightstand and you knew it, but the following morning they were no where to be found. On the third night, you wake up on your side in bed, the sound of someone breathing deeply behind you sending a swell of dread from the base of your neck down to the heels of your feet. Sleep paralysis, you tell yourself, but you knew you had pulled the blanket a bit tighter around yourself when it happened, stealthily tried to move your foot to see if you could feel anyone. You could move, it had been real.

It’s on the fourth day that your heart sinks in your chest. You wake to morning light flooding through the curtains, the chirping of birds in the willow just outside of your window. As you sit yourself up and wipe at your eyes with the meat of your palms, you realize the potted lily Kate had gifted to you is gone. Plants don’t just get up and walk, using their leaves to tug up their pots as if it were trousers as they saunter away on thin, wiry root legs. You feel like your sanity is slipping when you check the window and realize it’s still locked. Even though the lily was just a plant, you feel a sense of grief at the fact you couldn’t find it anywhere— not beneath the bed, in any drawer, the closet or… anywhere in the cottage.

You finally give in and decide to ask Kate, to which she explains that this event isn’t uncommon. You expected her to be upset (with what you believed to be your own irresponsibility), but she remains kind as always, tells you it will turn back up when you least expect it and ushers you to the kitchen to prepare breakfast with you, coffee, omelettes and bowls filled with blackberries.

“You could try asking Ghost,” Kate offers, “He seems fond of you, perhaps he took it.”

You bite back the urge to ask her how a dog could have possibly broken into your room and stolen a potted plant. The very image of it seemed silly, a beast like him biting down on the clay pot to, what? Haul it off to rest it atop some long-forgotten soul’s grave? Instead, you toy with the eggs on your plate, still feeling a bit strange about the entire ordeal.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Don’t be afraid,” the woman speaks up again. The expression on her face, oddly sheepish, doesn’t suit her well. A silent ‘don’t leave’ buried beneath her words, written clear as day in the sullen look in her eyes.

The trek to the graveyard feels heavier this time around. The dog isn’t what has your skin crawling, it’s the ever-present feeling that something just beyond your field of view is lying in wait, eyes trained solely on your form. You swear you can feel a puff of breath on the back of your neck a time or two, almost causing you to trip over a cluster of fallen pine cones and other forest debris. It’s silent, as always, and as much as your eyes scan through fallen leaves and bent branches, you can’t make out the sight of anything scampering about, not so much as a squirrel or a proud cardinal. It’s strange how empty a place teeming with life can feel at times when something lurks coaxing the other creatures to silence lest they fall victim to sharp fangs. Even you, you find, have taken to subconsciously adjusting your strides as to not step on too many fallen leaves, avoiding twigs as though making a peep at all would be a death sentence.

Making your way to the hill littered in graves only makes it feel more certain, that steady drip of dread telling you that death was nipping at your heels. Though, a part of you considers that’s just Ghost’s presence. Black shulk, a keeper of fairy mounds, a harbinger of death.

You’re not met with the presence of a wiry-haired dog this time though, but a man clad in black, face concealed by the frontal bones of a human skull with all but the jaw mostly there. Tall and bulky, the thin fabric of a tunic barely concealing the rigid musculature beneath. There’s a moment of panic, so brief the swell and fall leaves you breathless, before you realize looking into those eyes that this was still the dog you had met before. Different, but still just as haunted and weary. There’s a misplaced sense of peace with Ghost; a wolf taking to shepherding a lamb rather than devouring it.

“Ghost?” You call to him, and he tilts his head ever so slightly, attention pulled from whatever duty he feels that he owes to this cemetery. Some instinctual guardianship, perhaps, rooted just as deeply in his fae blood as the pride and fear in your humanity.

“Yes?”

The dog, man, whatever he may be doesn’t seem to have a care that you see him as he is now, his focus returning to the same tombstone you had kneeled beside the day you met him, thick fingers roving over the mossy stone. He’s not clearing it away, you notice, merely looking it over and it dawns on you that perhaps, in some distant past that this was someone he once knew. Had he waited at their side during their end? Pressed his muzzle to their palm in a kiss of death? Your fingers twitch at your side as your feet move on auto-pilot, arriving at his side before you seat yourself next to him.

Ghost smells of sulfur, of pine and morning dew. Not death as you had expected. He smells of spring mornings and hazy summer afternoons, scorched earth and vibrant meadows all in one. Purgatory made flesh, a passerby between heaven and hell.

“Did you steal my lily?” The words seem entirely outlandish as they spill from your mouth, and you realize how stupid you sound the second he cocks his head to look you over beneath the skull concealing the majority of his face from you. He doesn’t have to give you an answer, really, because you know he didn’t take it, but he still gives you the courtesy of a slow shake of his head. “Well, it’s gone.” You say quietly, drawing your gaze away from him as you look to the tombstone before the both of you. You can see it now, the name. Johnny MacTavish.

“Don’t know anything about it,” Ghost utters, his dark eyes remaining trained on you, but his hand moves to the soil beneath his feet. There’s a certain reverence to his touch as he splays his hand across the earth. This ‘Johnny’ must have been important to him in some capacity. Not a kiss of death at all, you realize then. Whatever Ghost was, he had the propensity to love, to grieve.

“Oh.” You breathe soft, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. A heavy silence hangs in the air for a moment. You hadn’t meant to interrupt him during such a sensitive time, but there’s some flicker in his eyes when you look up at him that suggests a semblance of gratitude that you’re here. “… you knew him?” Your force the question from your tongue, and Ghost merely turns his head to look at the stone before him, eyes somber as they trace over the engraved name as though he were reading poetry.

“That I did.”

You both sit in silence for a time. There’s a part of you that doesn’t want to leave him to haunt this place alone anymore, and a more rational part that tells you that he belongs here, tethered to this Johnny’s side for the rest of his days. Ghost seems less tense in your presence, almost soothed by the silence it seemed as his broad shoulders go slack and he pays his silent respects to this buried man by way of gentle touch and a barely contained softness in his eyes. The silence feels neither awkward nor unfamiliar, it’s as gentle as a breeze passing through. You picture what this man must have been like, to steal the heart of someone like Ghost, even in death. You don’t ask, despite the questions burning in your throat. In due time, perhaps.

An hour passes before you force up the will to leave him, and just like the last time, Ghost walks you home. There’s no more pushing, no ushering you to look forward or walk faster. The man would never voice it, but something about the way he looks at you now tells you there’s some newfound respect budding up in his chest like a wildflower.

The silence is only broken as you reach the door to Kate’s home.

“Somethin’s got its eye on you, lovie.” You whip your head around to question him, but find the man has already gone.

— — —

You return empty handed, noting that Kate’s car was no longer parked in the gravel driveway. A note on the refrigerator door reads ‘Out. Be back soon!’. It’s the first time that you’ve found yourself alone in the cottage, but you have the sense to tell you that you’re not entirely alone. Even the mottled white and blue wallpaper, some faux marble pattern, makes you feel as though you’re being watched, as though something you’re just not seeing is tucked away beneath those colors observing you with the eyes of a starved wolf.

And it’s quiet, it’s so quiet that it makes that unease grow. You’re repeating Ghost’s words in your head like a strange mantra.

Somethin’s got its eye on you, lovie.

Why didn’t he elaborate? Did he even know? Could he know?

The house settles, a floorboard creaks loudly and that’s enough to spur you to hide away in your room, at least until Kate returns.

Your room feels like small sanctuary as you shut the door behind you and let out a shaky breath. The calm is only interrupted when you notice the dead sparrow lying neatly atop your bedsheets, it’s wings spread out, feet tucked against its tiny body and it’s eyes closed. It looked peaceful, not brutally marred and yet the sight alone pulls a gasp from your throat as your eyes grow wide.

Something had been in your room. Someone had been in your room.

Was the dead bird a threat? A gift? You couldn’t be certain, but you glove your hands and bury it in the backyard, eyes carefully scanning the tree line every so often as a chill runs down each knob of your spine. You’ve heard mentions of the fair folk your entire life, in books and film, but those stories all felt so nonsensical and sweet compared to the here and now. Were they not supposed to simply be little people donning butterfly’s wings? Fluttering about thick oak trees and being birthed from flower bulbs? Kate’s ‘neighbors’ looked and felt the part of demons by comparison.

If not for Ghost’s existence, you would think this all was her doing, that perhaps she was more eccentric than you had realized. You’re scared, you’re alone here in the country, and it seemed as though these strange occurrences would just be your new day-to-day. As normal as a walk to the subway, as ordering your coffee from a local cafe. You pat the small grave with the spade once as you rise to your feet to head inside to wash your sheets.

— — —

You don’t remember falling asleep, memory only supplying you placing your sheets in the washer with a slight grimace on your face. But you wake, you wake to the dim light of the moon basking your room in a hazy, milky glow. You can feel the presence of a blanket covering your lower half, but you’ve hardly time to question how it got there at all.

A long, muscular arm curls around your middle, inviting in a cold, billowing wave of fear to wash over your bones. Ghost?, you wonder in silence, but the thought immediately dissipates as you feel the figure shift closer behind you, tucking you further against himself. Ghost was big, but this person was somehow larger. Impossibly so. You part your lips to scream, but not a sound comes out. You feel as though your voice itself has been snatched away from your throat. “Shh,” a voice hisses into your ear, the feeling of fabric moving over your face as the man behind you tilts his head to look you over.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I won’t hurt you,” the voice continues, somehow both gravely and light as he speaks. It’s unfamiliar, entirely unfamiliar. He sounds unhinged in a way your fretful mind can’t even begin to voice, and surely, he must be. Climbing into bed with a stranger, pulling someone you’ve never met so closely to you… why would anyone in their right mind do that?!

You manage to find your voice when the man lowers his head to the crown of yours, deeply inhaling as his grip around you tightens. “What the hell are you doing?” You try to sound assertive, truly, but it comes out as a small squeak, anxiously wavering with each syllable uttered.

“You smell like honeysuckle.”

Was Kate back yet? If you screamed would she come sprinting through to door to rid this beast of a man from your bed? Your thoughts are like a roaring storm in your head just before you feel the gentle brush of lips, hidden beneath some veil, against your cheek and the figure pulls away to settle against your pillow with a soft huff of breath.

“Your heart is racing like a little hase. Calm down.”

“Stop. Please.” Your voice cracks again. Through the dim light of the moon seeping through your window you make out the sight of a clawed hand resting over your tummy. Thick, black keratin gently splayed over the fabric of your shirt, grip firm but not tight enough to cause injury. Your breath catches, the stranger let’s out an airy laugh, tries to pull you closer once again. You’re so entwined that it’s for naught, you’re only grateful he was gentle. The thought of those claws splitting you open surfaces just before he shushes you again.

“I won’t hurt you,” he repeats as if sensing your unease. You can almost detect the dejection in his voice, as though he knows, knows that you’re catching glimpses of a monster, a sight he couldn’t change. It’s gone so quickly you think you’ve imagined it. His thumb moves languidly to trace a circle along your sternum, trying to soothe.

“What do you want?” Your voice was a low hiss, eyes darting from his hand to the wall in front of you. The courage to twist in his grip and face him wasn’t there, your imagination running wild with possibilities of the rest of him like stills from a horror film.

“To hold you.” Simple sentences do nothing to make his voice sound calm, the man is practically trembling as his hand moves to your hip to trace a pattern there, clawed fingertips dancing over a hint of exposed flesh. His other arm shifts to fit beneath your neck, you can see the taut muscle, the veins there as he moves it to curl over your chest, his breathing uneven and deep. The sound was familiar, the same sound you had heard when you felt the dip in your mattress a few nights prior. “Just to hold you.”

And this, despite how horrific and strange, is oddly comforting. Your mind has been plagued with anxieties caused by the unseen for days on end, and you can’t even recall the last time you’ve been held like this, if ever. So tender, so warm. The man behind you quietly hums the tune of a song that isn’t familiar, but feels as though it were just behind you. His fingers continue to delicately trace small shapes against you, warm paths of connecting points, some angular, some smooth. Despite yourself, you find you’re lulled into a deep sleep filled with dreams of fall forests, of unknowns with sharp teeth and fierce eyes. A song, dancing naked in groves, a man with eyes like an ice covered stream.

When you wake, you find your bed empty apart from your own person, and a fully bloomed lily in your windowsill.

#König x reader #konig x reader #König x you #konig x you #konig fanfiction #konig #König #call of duty #if i look at this any longer i will never post it raaah #erlkönig!König is everything to me

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dollita-fawn · 4 months

Note

haiiii!! i was wondering if you be willing to write step dad whesker x reader where you come in from college for a family reunion and he takes you out back behind the building to feel you up, and as he does someone catches you and he continues to fuck you as the family tries to get you both to stop. :3

𝐀 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 ❦

pairings - Stepdad! Wesker x Fem! Reader

a/n- this is definitely the darkest fic i’ve written so far😭 thank you for the ask!! hope you enjoy (as usual, not proofread so lmk)

𝐂𝐰- Step-cest, exhibitionsm?, cheating, fantasizing, taboo relationship, age gap (reader is in her 20s, Wesker is 48), mild daddy kink, use of praise and pet names, reader is a virgin, unprotected sex, dumbification?, breeding kink if you squint, dacraphylia ꨄ

༺

“It’s so good to have you home, hon!” your mother exclaims, suffocating you with her usual greeting of a hug.

It had been a couple of years since you’d been home. You chose to go to a college a few states away, which your mother absolutely despised. But as an adult, you’re responsible for your own decisions and that’s where you wanted to go.

It was far away, but you could still visit whenever you wanted. Though, simple face-times were more convenient in between those timeframes.

You couldn’t make it to last years family gathering, mostly because it’s on the most random day of the year and you had exams. So this year, you make the effort to come visit.

It was nice to get a break from the burdens of school.

“It’s good to be home,” you reassure your mother with a few awkward back pats before pulling away from the embrace.

“Albert set the TV back up in your old room for the week.”

Convenient. You had almost forgotten about the man your mother married. Or rather, tried to force yourself to forget him.

Wesker came into you and your mother’s life out of nowhere, quickly becoming head of the household. And taking over your thoughts entirely.

He was a fickle man, something about him just always seemed off in a way you couldn’t quite decipher. He was just eerie. Somehow, that was appealing. You found yourself wanting to get closer to the man.

But you would never do that to your poor mother. She loved him a lot, so it seemed. So you just pushed him out of your memory when you left. It was nothing that serious. Never even discussed out loud. Hell, the two of you hardly ever spoke, always awkward around each other.

Especially now, as you pass by on your way to your room.

He just watches, as if inspecting you under a microscope. Not saying a word, just staring all open mouthed like he was going to.

You force a tight lipped smile, directing it to him as a hello. Some things just don’t change. Not even your old bedroom.

But you sure did.

Wesker couldn’t help but notice your major change in wardrobe. He always saw you as the sort of insecure and self conscious type. Now you fully displayed yourself without shame, wearing tighter, more revealing clothing. Shorts so short your ass hangs out around the edges. And your makeup, less minuscule. To say you grew into your looks was an understatement.

You completely changed appearance wise, even if you remained the same inside. He felt like he was looking at you for the first time.

He liked what he saw. A little too much. He knew how wrong it was to see his own stepdaughter in that light, but as he takes in every inch of you, all the blood rushes from his head to his cock, making him shift uncomfortably as his pants suddenly grow to be too tight.

He just leaves without greeting you, welcoming you home like he wanted to originally.

Hopefully you didn’t take it the wrong way, he just desperately needed to relieve himself. To get those dirty thoughts out of his head.

He rushes off to the bathroom, dropping his pants and boxers down to his ankles and immediately gripping his cock. He closes his eyes as he fucks into his hand, using the thought, the image of you in his mind.

Something was seriously wrong with him.

It only took a minute or two before he made a mess of himself, cumming in bursts he’d never experienced. He had never gotten off that fast, or released that much. But with the thought of you, it felt completely different. Completely wrong and so damn good. Was he really that depraved?

Usually he goes back to normal after he finishes, but not this time. It only made him want more.

As he starts to go again, he’s halted by the sound of your mother’s voice. Dinner was ready. She planned all week for this, making sure to make your favorite meal for your first night back.

With a frustrated sigh, he washes the filth from his hands, looking at his face shamefully in the mirror before pulling up his pants again, making his way to the dining room.

You’re already there, sitting quietly at the table. He sits opposite of you, trying to remain as far away as possible. Trying to pretend he didn’t just jerk off pathetically to the thought of you.

“So, Wesker…” you speak up, almost giving the man a heart attack. “Mom told me about the new job you started.”

It takes him a minute to process your statement. He realizes you’re attempting to make conversation with him, clearing his throat before replying. “Yes, pays quite nicely.”

Was that too bland? He shouldn’t have to think this hard for a simple discussion.

“Do you like it?” you try to continue.

He freezes up as you start eating, lips wrapping around the spoon, making direct eye contact with him. He zones out, imagining those pretty lips around his cock, struggling to take him down your throat. Shit. When did he become this desperate?

Again he shifts, feeling that familiar tightness. “I like it just fine. I get a decent amount of time off.”

“Are you looking forward to the cookout tomorrow? Your favorite aunt will be attending I’ve heard.” he continues, hiding the tremble in his voice.

You nod, “It’ll be nice to have everyone together again.” and the conversation ends there, leaving your mother to carry it on throughout the rest of dinner.

He tries his hardest to be normal, refusing to look your way. But he can’t help it. He continues stealing glances at you throughout the meal, writhing in his chair every time you meet his gaze.

By the end of it, he’s in the bathroom again, unable to calm himself down. Meanwhile you’re going to bed without knowing at all.

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

The following day is even worse. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get through the day without doing something. Let alone the rest of the week that you’re staying.

Half of the family is over, completely taking away any chance of privacy for his restroom breaks. He would just have to deal with it.

That was going to be completely impossible though.

It’s a hot day, you’re dressed in a tank top and an even shorter pair or shorts than the day before. With your hair up, unkempt and out of your face, smiling and laughing so sweetly with the others. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, off of your exposed skin.

He’s struggling to keep up with his role with the grill, almost burning the food an embarrassing amount of times.

He wanted so badly to slip away again. But even then he wouldn’t be satisfied. Not until he got to have you the way he wanted.

If he was going to survive this family reunion, that’s what had to happen. He just didn’t know how he was going to pull it off. He had a feeling you might be attracted to him, but he was never certain. You hid your feelings better than even he could.

When he notices the grill is running low on charcoal, he sees it as an opportunity. “Could you help me out with getting these bags from the shed? Could use an extra pair of hands.”

Being the good girl you were, you drop everything you’re doing to help him out, following him towards the other side of the house.

He didn’t at all need help. Before you know it, you’re pinned to the wall, silenced by his rough lips taking over yours. He forces your shorts down with ease, dipping his hand directly into your bare cunt while the other holds you there.

You go completely dizzy, not fighting against him. Instead you’re kissing your stepfather back, letting those urges take you over, all the pent up tension that built over the years.

You whimper into his mouth as he rubs at your clit like a mad man, already making you quiver. “What if we get caught..and the neighbors…if they-“

“Let them. They can watch for all I care. I need you, now.” he interjects, and you submit.

He discards his pants, hooking his arms under your thighs to hold you up and aligning himself with your entrance and shoving all the way in, balls deep.

You let out a guttural squeal, clinging onto him with tears welling up in your eyes.

“Holy fuck…” he growls almost animalistic, “So fucking tight. Are you still a virgin?”

You nod. Well, you were. And now your first time was his. Knowing that drove him over the edge. “It’s alright, daddy’s got you. I’ll take care of you, my darling.” he croons.

But that was partially a lie. As much as he didn’t want to end up hurting you, he couldn’t control himself. He tried his best to slow down, but his hips thrusted into you on their own. The head of his cock jabs at your cervix, over and over.

Your nails dig into his back seeking stability and he does his best to hold you.

You’re sobbing, from pain or pleasure he can’t tell. All he knows is it’s turning him on even more. Everytime you whine, it brings him closer.

“You’re okay.”

“Such a good girl, letting me have my way with you. You’re taking me so well.” he coos softly, continuing to fuck up into you ruthlessly. “Daddy’s gonna fill you up, you’re going to take it like a good girl, hm?”

You can find the words to speak, only mewling out needy and incoherent attempts at his name. It’s enough to push him over. He cums deep inside, not even attempting at pulling out.

Instead, he continues, stuffing you full of his seed.

His pace doesn’t even slow during the second round, steadily pumping his cock into your walls. You suck him in so tightly as he splits you open mercilessly. As much as he cared for you, nothing was going to stop him from fulfilling his needs.

Not even favorite aunt who’s horrified at the sight in front of her. She grows to be heated, preaching on about how disgusting he is, pleading for him to separate from you.

It goes in one ear and out the other. He doesn’t even pause to look at her, keeping his eyes on yours. He wasn’t going to stop until he was fully satisfied.

“Just look at me baby, don’t worry. We’re in this together. Daddy’s got you…”

You’re feeling completely humiliated, guilt churning in the pit of your stomach, his cock only stirs it further.

Your aunt fades out to the background, your ears start to ring and your vision goes hazy. You climax so hard you can’t stop your shaking. You tighten up around him in the process, completely draining him into you.

Again he sounds a carnal growl, feeling that sweet release he’s been yearning for.

When he pulls out and sets you down, you’re clinging to him like a whipped dog, soaking his shirt with your tears. It wounds his heart to see you so upset.

He pulls his pants back up, yours as well, zipping up your shorts and buttoning up the button for you. He runs his hands through your disheveled hair and wipes away your streams of tears.

Whatever the consequences were for his actions, he wouldn’t let you go down for it.

The two of you could run away together if needed, he hardly cared all that much for your mother anyway.

Not when you were in town.

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yourmanz-sodapop · 4 months

Text

BTS reaction to being jealous/insecure of your ex

Jin:

Him and your ex meeting was a complete accident.

You never wanted them to meet, your ex was something.

When they met you were dining in a nice restaurant to celebrate their latest mv.

Your ex just suddenly popped up out of nowhere grabbing your shoulder in the process.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Jin.

Your ex just suddenly got to talking with Jin. He brought up a tattoo you had that Jin loved. It was a small tattoo behind your ear. Three stars, your ex mentioned how he was the one to convince you to get it.

“Oh, did you?” was Jin’s response.

This could not have gotten any worse.

You were so very wrong.

Then your ex suddenly brought up your engagement, to him of course, not Jin. Something Jin didn’t even know about. All he knew was that your ex had cheated on you with your cousin and lied about it.

The entire ordeal was uncomfortable, and he didn’t remove his hand from your shoulder.

When it was obvious he wasn’t going to leave, Jin stood up and grabbed your hand, quickly heading to the front to pay.

Your ex followed, it seemed he had taken quite a liking to bothering Jin. He even followed you both to your car.

“You know I never stopped loving y/n.”

“If that’s so true you wouldn’t have cheated in the first place, but I have to thank you because I am never letting him go. Have a good night. ” Jin said with the fakest smile you’ve ever seen on his face..

Jin wasn’t by any means a mean person but there were lines that no one should cross and your ex crossed them.

Yoongi:

Yoongi knew that your ex and you didn’t break up on bad terms. Rather unfortunate terms.

You were only starting to build your business, he wanted a lot of time and you just couldn’t give that to him.

His family were still friends with your family so when he learned that he would be at your sister's wedding as well, he lost a bit of excitement.

He knew you still talked, not often but he knew every once in a while you would talk on the phone.

In all honesty he was dreading the next day. Where he would have to not only meet your family for the first time, your whole family, but also worry about your ex just coming and snatching you up.

He was scared, he had to admit he had Jimin stalk your ex on instagram a bit, he still had pictures of you from your time in university, when you guys were dating.

There was one particular one that bothered Yoongi.

It was a picture of you sleeping, it was obvious to Yoongi that you both just got done doing the deed.

It’s one of those things you really only know about your partner if you've been dating them for a while. Just little details that you notice over time.

To the world it might just look like you're sleeping, but Yoongi knows you. You NEVER sleep on your stomach. You think it’s the most uncomfortable position.

The only times you sleep on your stomach are when you're too tired to move.

And no he’s not overreacting.

He of course didn’t bring it up, he knew you would get a kick out of it and tease him over being jealous.

But logically he knows he has nothing to worry about, what happened between you and your ex, was a long time ago. you’ve moved on even if he hasn’t.

Hoseok:

Hoseok was such a happy person. So he tried his best to be happy when you ran into your ex at the park. In the hidden area he was sure no one knew about.

The same park coincidentally that was his favorite, and that you both went to all the time.

Was he being paranoid? Probably but he had every right to.

We’re talking about the man who was your first. Not your first boyfriend or kiss but your first first.

As in your first time, he ‘turned’ you into a man, or whatever it is that people say about first times. Or did that only apply to hetero relationships? He doesn’t care

It didn’t help that once your ex saw you, he wouldn’t stop hugging you.

Or that he started to yap about the old times when you were still together.

Like ok he didn’t need to know that one time you ate a worm because of a dare.

Or that your love language was gift giving.

First of all, it wasn’t, if he knew you as well as he claimed to, he would know that you love physical touch.

Most of your days off are spent lying around, Your head on his chest whilst he plays with your hair. Your light snoring making him smile.

Just being there and hugging him was enough for you.

It was one of his favorite things.

He knows that there have been plenty of firsts for you both as well.

It was safe to say he wasn’t exactly the fondest of your ex. He was a little jealous and insecure.

But it’s ok because when you got home you made sure to get rid of any and all insecurities he may have had.

Namjoon:

Despises your ex, No questions asked.

Your ex was an absolute piece of trash.

Namjoon knew your family had money, and so did your ex.

But you were so ‘in love’ with your ex that you never noticed his love for your money.

You were the kindest person Namjoon ever met

Like even Namjoon lost his patience every once in a while for whatever reason

But you, God, you really never got angry, you never attracted problems or drama and stayed away from it

You were a big influence on your younger siblings, you always told them to not be pushovers but also to never start problems or fights

Namjoon was just so in love with you, you were kind, outgoing, talkative, but you also liked reading and painting, and you took workshop in your junior years which means you were very handy at a lot of things.

Like how can a person be all that

And then there was your ex, who used you, abused you and cheated on you multiple times

I mean how badly ‘in love’ do you have to be to let someone give you a scar and still take them back (don’t answer that)

But eventually after the 15th time you caught him cheating you just moved on

Yea Namjoon was in on ALL the tea.

Thankfully you met Namjoon not long after, but now here you were in a museum in Italy, and just his luck, your ex just happened to work there.

“Y/n?” that pesky voice, Namjoon immediately intertwined his fingers with yours and leaned against you

“Oh my God, Y/n, I haven’t seen you in years.”

Yeah, he was totally going to make a scene if he got too close.

Namjoon deliberately pulled you away from him, enough for him to know you were avoiding him, making sure your ex watched as he kissed you.

Jimin:

Jimin loathed your ex.

Why did he have to be so damn bubbly, and more importantly why did he have to make it so hard to dislike him.

He was just all smiles and laughter like Hobi.

Which marks the question, why the hell did you break up with him?

You mentioned once that it was because you lost feelings for him, but you guys were high school and college sweethearts.

All and I do mean all of your friends and family had mentioned how they were so sure you would marry him.

It kind of irritated him… no, it for sure irritated him.

He told you that he was uncomfortable that you all slept under the same roof during reunions. (Your family’s loaded.)

You had told him that just because his family and friends thought those things a few years back doesn’t mean it was going to come true, nor did it mean your feelings for him would magically reappear.

He wanted to get along with him, he really did.

But it was just so hard for him when he knew that this man had you the same way he has you.

That he’s seen you, all of you. Experienced everything before him.

He can’t help it. It’s pure jealousy. Jimin is a very jealous and possessive person.

But he would never put you in a tough situation, he understood that you and him were just friends.

Taehyung:

Your ex was a straight up psycho.

He had DM'd him on instagram harassing him to no end.

Spouting nonsense, but I mean you did technically leave him for Tae but still all nonsense.

I mean he had you cut off from your family, you being the fool in love, you believed everything he said to you.

Then you met Taehyung on a business trip.

Your ex believes Taehyung turned you against him.

I mean you can’t say he’s not crazy, your ex threatened to fly out all the way to Korea to ‘get you back.’

Taehyung, although he would never voice this outloud did fear that you would leave him for your ex.

Your ex was an excellent manipulator.

He was also handsome and very feminine looking.

He found a picture of you on his instagram where you're holding hands and he could only note how small his hands were in yours, or how he was significantly shorter than you both and you would lean down to kiss his cheek.

Basically everything Tae wasn’t.

His hands were big, and when it came down to it he was only two inches shorter than you.

You and your ex were the perfect instagram couple, but he was batshit crazy.

And well you know what they say, don’t believe everything you see on the online.

Jungkook:

Jungkook was completely insecure about your ex.

First of all, you were a bisexual male. So that alone meant he had more competition than if you were just gay.

And second you were married before him, with kids!!

You left your wife a long time ago before your kids were born, because you both just could never have peace.

You fought all the time and she would walk out on you several times to ‘scare you.’

You were both very toxic in that relationship, you decided for the sake of happiness and safety of your kids you would separate and have shared custody over them.

It’s better than the kids growing up in a bad home environment and watching their parents fight all the time.

Therapy hadn’t worked so what else could you do.

They would spend the school year with her and stay with Jungkook and yourself over the summer.

So far things were going great, now that the kids were starting to understand things they didn’t seem to have a problem with anything. They were happy.

There had never been a problem… with the kids.

It’s been very clear to him that your ex wife still had some kind of attachment to you and vice versa.

She was the mother of your children, you would always have a special love for her.

That’s where the insecurity comes in.

Legally there are no ties between you and him. Hell you don’t even live together yet and you’ve been together for 6 years now. Your twins were eight.

(You met Jungkook two years after your twin's birth, yes you are older than him.)

So there was nothing stopping you from getting back with her and cutting him loose.

It was kind of a given that Jungkook worried that one day he’d wake up only for you to tell him that you were going to give your marriage another try.

That was his biggest insecurity, that you would go back to your ex.

His other insecurity is that your ex would give you an ultimatum, him or the twins. He already knows where you stand.

You’d choose your twins over anyone and everyone.

He tolerates your ex but isn’t the biggest fan, especially at reunions.

That’s where he’s the most jealous, you look like the picture perfect family.

But at the end of the day he knows that you love him and the twins love him, and even though your ex can’t stand being in the same room as him, he has nothing to worry about.

#bts x male reader #bangtan #bottom bts #bts imagines #male reader #jin x male reader #seokjin x male reader #yoongi x male reader #suga x male reader #jhope x male reader #hoseok x male reader #namjoon x top male reader #namjoon x male reader #rm x male reader #jimin x male reader #taehyung x male reader #V x male reader #jungkook x male reader

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outsideratheart · 1 year

Text

Welcome to Colney (Leah Williamson x reader)

Summer 2022 changed your life. Winning the Copa América wasn’t new to you nor the Brazilian national team but this year was the first tournament where you was the captain of your team. It was an honour and a privilege to wear the armband but it came with pressure and responsibilities that you weren’t expecting. Your performance caught the eyes of several clubs but one stood out from the rest, Arsenal. The decision to move to the legendary English club was made easier when Rafa told you they made her an offer too. It was chance to play football with your best friend at club level for the first time in your careers.

“Are you nervous?” Rafa asked as you pulled up to the training facilities. There would be no training today but the club wanted to celebrate the players who had been crowned champions over the summer.

You shake your head.

“Not even to play with a new team in a new country?”

Truth is you were nervous about learning a new style but you also knew you had to lead by example.

“I welcome the challenge”

“Of course you do”

You arrived to find the entire team, both men and women, outside the front of the building. The sight itself was a little bit daunting but you would let them know that.

“Y/N! Rafaelle!” Jonas is the first to spot you and calls you over.

He introduces you to the team but there seems to be one person missing; your English counterpart Leah Williamson.

It is only when you see Beth Mead and Lotte Wubben-Moy sporting their medals do you realise that you have left yours in the car. Rafa volunteers to go them and in her absence you find yourself gravitating towards your fellow Brazilians on the men’s team.

You are so deep in conversation with Gabi that you don’t realise the women’s team has gathered for a photo.

“Desculpe” you quickly run over where you are instructed to stand in the middle.

Seconds before the photo is taken you feel a hand grab your waist and it sends a shockwave through your body. When you turn to face the owner of said hand you see a shy looking blonde with flushed cheeks.

“I’m Leah” she holds her hand out for you to shake once the photographer says she’s happy for the shots she has.

“Y/N” you shake her hand, a motion in itself lasts a little longer than it did with everyone else “It’s a pleasure to meet you Leah”

There’s something about the minuscule moment you had just shared but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“We’re very lucky to have you here at Arsenal. I can’t wait to play with you”

“I’m sure you’ll be playing more with Rafa but I look forward to sharing the pitch with you”

It was a compliment face off. It's clear both of you are fans of each other but it is when Beth wanders over do you realise just how big of fan Leah is.

“I see you’ve met your biggest fan” Beth wraps her arms around Leah’s shoulder “Leah here couldn’t stop talking about you when we found out you had signed”

Leah’s face said it all. The embarrassment was clear but you liked it. What you didn’t like was the way Rafa appeared out of nowhere and joined in Beth’s game of expose my captain.

“Oh please, don’t act like you aren’t a fan of hers too. Y/N came her a few weeks ago because she wanted to meet you but when she arrived you were with your team mates on holiday”

“Rafaelle” it was a warning, one which she was all too aware of “I came here to sort out our house whilst you were off celebrating with the girls”

“You didn’t celebrate your win? You were incredible” Leah, once again, pays you a compliment.

“I had a lot on my plate. Like Rafa said I came to unpack and decorate our house but before then I had back to back interviews and photoshoots in Brazil that I couldn't get out of"

“I understand that” the sorrow in Leah’s voice was concerning.

“Being a first time captain leading your team to a championship comes with its downfalls”

Leah only nods her head. The weeks following the euros was nothing like Leah expected. The tournament put her on a pedestal and for the first time since she lifted the trophy she didn’t feel alone at the top.

Of course both of you could relax a little knowing that while here at Colney and at meadow park, Kim Little was the captain and it didn’t take long for you to be reminded of that.

“I see the captain of England and the captain of Brazil have met but we all know who is in charge around here” Katie joked.

“We are team full of leaders. Leah is one of the captains too and I hope Y/N will bring some her her leadership skills to the team” Kim joins the small group which is forming.

You cannot bring yourself to respond. Not because you don’t want to but you don’t want to place yourself with the top players of the team when you haven’t even stepped foot on the pitch.

During the offseason trip to Germany you found it surprisingly easy to fit in with the team. You got along well with the team but more so with Leah. Despite being from different countries, you had similar tastes in music so you would often lounge around listening to your favourite playlists whilst Leah showed you how to play Sudoku.

Things changed when you were back in London. You unconsciously began to close yourself off. It was as if Y/N the human being didn't feel at home in London which wouldn't be a problem given that you had only been there for a month but Rafa seemed to be blossoming in the country's capital. Several players picked up on your change of behaviour so Katie suggested a team bonding night at a restaurant of her choosing.

When she sends you the address of an all you can eat Brazilian you are filled with excitement but the restaurant itself didn't quite live up to a native's standards. The gesture is kind and you make sure to thank her for her efforts when you leave.

"You didn't like it?" Leah nudges you as you and few of the other team members walk back to where the cars are parked.

"It wasn't really Brazilian. It was just a lot of meat" you whisper as not to upset the irishwoman.

"I told you Katie!" Leah shouts much to your failed attempts at telling her to not to say anything.

"What!" Katie comes skipping over to the two of you "I thought you would like going to a Brazilian restaurant"

"That wasn't Brazilian, it was —“ Rafa comes to plead your case.

"A lot of meat" Leah says earning a smirk and a shake of head from you.

This leads to Rafa inviting the team over to the house you shared and offered a home cooked Brazilian feast which you found rich considering you were the chef out of the two of you. The team happily take her up on her offer and as you walk down the streets of St Albans you gaze remain fixed on a certain individual and how her hips swayed with every step she took.

"So you and Leah?" Rafa snuck up behind you. She had seen the way the two of you conversed the entire night. You barely showed anyone else any attention but the sight Rafa saw was rare and she knew that you must have opened yourself up to Leah if you were willing to get this close.

“She —“ how do you describe Leah?

"Ticks every single one of your boxes" the fellow Brazilian finishes your sentence or at least she tries.

"I was going to say she is beautiful"

You couldn’t deny Leah’s beauty. The way her blonde hair brought out the colour of her eyes; it puts the bluest oceans to shame. You were attracted to Leah and you knew it from the first day you met her but the passion she has for the sport you both love led you to fall deeper for her. She understood your mind more than anyone else given that she recently faced the same pressure as you.

"You should ask her out"

"I'm going to"

And that is what you planned to do the next day at training, that is until Beth officially gave you the low down on the couples within the team. Of course you had your suspicions and those had been right. What did catch you off guard was when Beth started talking about Leah and her history with Jordan Nobbs. From the signs Leah had given you, you thought she was single but Beth's explanation of their on off relationship thus far gave you reasons to doubt the moments you and Leah had shared. It’s the reason why you never asked her out that day or the day after that. In fact months passed and you still didn't ask her out even though your feelings never changed. You did keep her close though, just close enough to allow yourself to think what if.

It was during the final away trip of the year that the truth game to light. The team had met for breakfast, Leah observed from a distance as you watched Kim make a coffee with her latest contraption. The look on you face resembles that of a child watching a magic trick whilst figuring out how it’s done. She found it adorable the way you closed you eyes, inhaled the sent of the freshly poured cup then smiled widely as you swallowed your first mouthful.

“You’re drooling” Rafa jokes as she joins her fellow centre back at the table “Leah?” She waves her hand in front of the blonde to get her attention.

“I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

“You stare at her a lot for someone that turned her down”

Leah drew a blank. She had no idea what Rafaelle was talking about. She hadn’t turned you down, she wouldn’t and it’s not like she has had the opportunity to because you haven’t asked her out. She is just about to ask her to elaborate but both her and Kim gets called over by Jonas. You mumble a short and sweet ‘hi’ as you take her place at the table.

Rafa’s words stuck with Leah for the next few days as she tried and failed to think what could have made her think that. In the end it is the culprit herself that confesses when some of the girls are at Lia and Caitlyn’s for a game night.

“It’s been 5 months Leah and you have yet to make a move on Y/N. We can see the see you look at each other” Lia begins her friendly interrogation.

“and the sexual tension is disgusting” Katie fake gags.

“She told Rafa that she asked me out and I said no” Leah explains.

“You turned her down but I thought you liked her?” Viv questions.

“It’s not like Leah would have said yes, She is still with Jordan” Beth says.

You would have though the blonde had confessed to a murder the way all heads turned to her with a movement that could have given the owner whiplash.

“Beth, me and Jordan broke up before the euros. It’s done, we’re over for good this time”

Beth looked like a child that watched on as a problem they caused gets unveiled.

“What did you do?” Viv asks her girlfriend.

“I might have told her that you were already taken”

Leah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Had Beth really sabotaged the relationship before it even had a chance to begin. It made Leah realise one thing, you did like her because you were going to ask her out. She tried calling your phone but it went straight to voicemail and despite her trying numerous times after that, the results were the same no answer.

In an attempt to redeem herself, Beth offered to drive the blonde to your house. It was an offer that Leah happily accepted. She knew from overhearing a conversation between you and Stina that you were going back to Brazil for the holidays, she only wished that she could see you before you leave.

With her friends in tow Leah knocks rapidly on your front door hoping with every fibre of her being that you answer it. A Brazilian answers the door only it isn't the one she hoped for.

Rafa notices Leah peeping behind her and its then that she realises the blonde didn't come for her.

"You're here for Y/N?" she asks earning a nod from Leah "She isn't here"

Leah's face fell. It isn't the end of the world but she didn't want to spend the next two weeks wondering what you're doing in Brazil and more important who you are doing things with.

"Where is she?" Caitlyn asks.

"Airport" Rafa then looks down at her watch "Her flight leaves, well right now actually"

If it wasn't already, the way the other girls looked at each other made it obvious that something was going on and Rafaelle was in the dark.

Out the corner of her eye Leah saw a photo frame hanging on the wall. It was a photo on the two of you taken in Germany, a small chuckle escaped her lips at the difficulty that came with the getting to pose for the photo but just as quickly as the happiness flood her systems, it is replaced with sadness.

"I'm about to put a movie on and order a takeaway if you guys want to stay" your best friend points to the takeaway menus that were scattered on the kitchen countertop.

Everyone was up for an impromptu movie night, everyone but Leah who quite frankly just wanted to be alone. She politely declined the invite and left your house with her head hanging low.

The moment she steps outside her body crashes into another sending her to the ground.

"Leah! are you ok?" you help the blonde to her feet.

Leah meanwhile didn't understand what was going on. How was you there when you were suppose to be on a plane to Brazil.

"Leah?" you wave you hand in front of her face "Did you hit your head?”

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here" you chuckle a little at obviousness of her question.

"I know that" she smacks you playfully "I mean in England, Rafa said you were going to Brazil"

"My flight was overbooked so I'm taking the next one which is first thing tomorrow morning" you explained.

You are just about to enter your home when Leah stops you. Her hand rests on top of yours on the door handle. You remove you hand but keep Leah's intertwined with yours. You knew something was wrong. First she was leaving your house alone and now she didn't want you to go in.

"Linda" you look deeply into those blue eyes you like so much "What's wrong?"

"Beth was wrong when she told you about Jordan. We are not dating, that chapter of my life is done"

Your head dips slightly as a smile tugs at your lips. If Leah wasn't with Jordan then it changes everything.

"But she said that you were" you try to remember the exact wording "she said it was on and off. I like you Leah but I won't ruin your relationship"

"There is no relationship, me and Jordan are done. There is something between us though and that is the only thing on my mind"

There something about the girl you like telling you how she feels and it aligning with your own feelings that brings you pure happiness.

"Would you have said yes if I asked you?" Leah nods enthusiastically "then let's go"

She could't believe your spontaneity. It didn't match your every day personality but she liked this side of you.

"I would love that but you should know Rafa and some of the girls are inside having a movie night and since this is your last night here before winter break, maybe we should join them?"

You didn't like to share and given that Leah had all but admitted she had feelings for you, you really wanted to spend the night with her alone. You are just about to tell her this when you hear laughing from the other side of the door.

"We can but only if you let me take you out for breakfast in the morning?"

"I would like that"

When the door opens, the girls on the other side freeze. All eyes are on the hallway as they wait to see who enters.

"Y/N!" Beth shouts "and Leah! who are holding hands?"

You pay no attention to the forward’s observations. Instead you go straight to your place on the sofa which funnily enough remains empty and Leah settles in beside you. Throughout the night you struggle to pay attention to the movie because the woman in your arms in much more interesting. At one point she catches you staring and with the way you are sat your faces are incredibly close. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from kissing her but when Leah reaches up to caress you lower lip your hesitation goes out the window. Her lips are soft against your own and you relish the moment you have been waiting for since the first say you met her at Colney.

"Minha Linda" you place a soft kiss to her hairline.

"What does that mean?" Leah had been learning Portuguese from Rafa but it was a slow process.

"My beautiful"

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #leah Williamson x reader #leah Williamson one shot #leah Williamson imagine #engwnt x reader #engwnt one shot #engwnt imagine #awfc x reader #awfc one shot #awfc imagine

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hyrules-warrior · 1 year

Text

There needs to be more fics focusing on Joel’s PTSD and other issues after returning to Jackson.

I mean the guy has finally opened himself up after loosing his daughter. He was having panic attacks in episode 6, had full on dissociative episode with the events at the hospital. This guy has issues and finally being safe with Ellie in Jackson, those will start to come out as he relaxes for the first time in 20 years.

There are pancakes for breakfast at the canteen one morning. Joel gets in two bites before he goes white faced and barely makes it outside and between the buildings before he violently throws up everything he has ever eaten in his life and sits there hyperventilating and shaking until Ellie finds him and he comes back to himself. Sarah and him were supposed to have pancakes for his birthday breakfast that last day......before.......

Ellie has horrible nightmares, but so does Joel. Terrifying dreams of failure, of dying in that basement and leaving Ellie alone, of failing to make it to the surgeon in time to stop the surgery, of letting David......... He wakes up and has to stumble over to Ellie’s room to check on her just as much as she does for him after her dreams. Sometimes he is so shaken he has to wake her to make sure she is okay. But usually he just sees and hears her breathing and that is enough. He will settle in the window seat of her room with a gun and keep watch the rest of the night. Unknown or maybe just not acknowledged by both, Ellie herself sleeps the best the nights when he does this.

He has moments of high anxiety where he just has to lean against something for a few moments and breathe through it to settle his ringing ears and pounding heart. He isn’t even sure of the triggers most of the time, it seems to come out of nowhere. He also has sudden moments where he totally checks out but still functions. He is thrust back into survival mode and usually after has no idea why and barely remembers what happened during it. He closes right off, seems to stare at something far away instead of who is with him, his responses come out in his “asshole voice”, cold and distant. People just think he is grumpy, had a rough night or something but Ellie knows better. If she is there she works to keep people off of him and remove him from the situation in case that has triggered this shut down moment. When Ellie is with him her voice and touch grounds him, is the lifeline he tugs on to swim back to the present. It takes 10 times longer to drag himself back if she isn’t there.

His stab wound was major and the first aid done on it was understandably not the best. It never really heals right and remains sensitive. It pulls uncomfortably sometimes and aches horribly on cold winter days or when the pressure drops before a storm. And the phantom pains....... He wakes some nights from feverish dreams of the basement swearing he has just been stabbed all over again. The pain so fresh and sharp he thinks someone broke in and stabbed him there with a red hot fire poker. The first time it happens the wounded animal noises he lets out unbidden scare Ellie so bad she thinks he is dying and her extreme fear is what brings him back to the present. In the future he tries to hide it, dealing with his pain in silence (or attempted silence). Ellie still seems to know though and will silently come into his room and curl against his side allowing him to slowly settle. Or if the pain comes during the day she will push him into laying on the couch and get out the hot water bottle. Heat and seeing Ellie alive and well seems to soothe the pain, chase the winter away from his memory.

Just like with Ellie’s trauma, these things begin to fade with time and attentive care from the one he needs most.

#I love my joel whump #guy is fucked up too and people seem to forget that #dude needs a million ellie hugs #the last of us #tlou #joel and ellie #joel miller

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leafsbabe · 2 months

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Andrei Svechnikov & Sebastian Aho & Teuvo Teräväinen - gentle love

cw: poly relationship (3 players dating gn!reader, relationships between players not specified but can be read as platonic or romantic), mentions of therapy, crying/“breaking down”, general mental health struggles (not further specified), some dissociation around time, food and eating (unrelated to mental health struggles), two mentions of a character accidentally burning himself while cooking … 1.7k words

Sometimes you could get so good at bottling up your feelings and suppressing emotions that everything felt fine. At least until you were sat in a therapy session —with the same therapist you’d been seeing for years— and they hit you, broke you, caused you to completely fall apart on an uncomfortable leather armchair.

Fuck, how you hated when that happened.

You were lucky, in a way, to break in a controlled environment. Your therapist let you cry it out and didn’t try to push the issue more or force you to talk about it. Not that you would have been able to, even if you had wanted to talk. They handed you tissues —single ones at first before just giving you the entire box— and let you go over your time for almost fifteen whole minutes with a simple “don’t worry about it” in a tone that told you she felt sorry for you. Hopefully sorry enough to let the overtime slide. That way your insurance wouldn’t complain over extra billed hours.

That didn’t mean you felt okay afterwards but at least that red hot ball of overwhelming emotion had shriveled into a heavy feeling in your stomach, leaving you numb but sick. You hated it, yet you couldn’t escape. Even though you were sitting in your car you couldn’t drive home. Not like this, with your hands body shaking and your vision going blurry from a combination of leftover tears and a post-cry headache.

While you could have sat there longer trying to calm down, there was nothing you wanted more than to go home. Calling your partners felt like admitting you were weak but fuck, nobody could be strong all the time and you were allowed to be vulnerable. Still, you were too shaken to call, fearing that they would hear the emotions in your voice. Instead you sent a message in your group chat asking if one of them could pick you up.

You were still in your car, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard your fingers hurt, when a familiar car pulled into the parking lot of your therapist’s office. It was hard to say who came for you. They had taken Andrei’s car but the Russian wouldn’t have taken the corner so carefully. Truthfully you only realized more than one of your boyfriends had come when Teuvo tapped on your window and you looked out to see him and Sebastian standing there. They were careful to look at you no differently than usual but you’d be lying if you said you couldn’t see the worry in their eyes.

“Rough talk?” Teuvo asked as you got out, taking in your state. You could only nod in response. There was no point in pretending you were okay, not with them being able to see through you so clearly it made you feel like your entire being was made out of crystal. Fragile like it too, ironically.

“Come.” Teuvo put an arm around your shoulder, gently steering you towards the other car. “Sepe will drive your car home.”

The drive back to your place wasn’t too long without rush hour traffic but it still seemed to stretch into hours. Teuvo hadn’t turned on the radio and you didn’t know whether you were grateful for the lack of stimulation or annoyed at the lack of distraction. Then suddenly within the blink of an eye those hours turned into seconds and he pulled into the parking area of your building, your car somehow already parked in its usual spot but Sebastian nowhere to be seen.

Teuvo got out of the car and walked around it to open your door for you, a sweet gesture you suppose. Walking into the building you turned towards the stairs, your boys always complained about them but they tended to use them simply because they were quicker than the old elevator your landlord refused to upgrade. Today though, Teuvo steered you toward the elevator before pressing the button to your floor. The ride up was as silent as the car ride.

The entryway to your place was surprisingly empty as you toed off your shoes but you realized why once you walked in further. Your whole apartment smelled amazing, hearty and warm in the way only a good soup could. Muffled Russian cursing came from the direction of the kitchen so you didn’t have to guess who decided to play chef during your absence.

“He definitely touched the hot pot again.” Teuvo joked quietly while helping you out of your jacket.

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely audible as you responded but he didn’t complain. Instead he steered you towards the living room where Sebastian already stood, holding up a soft blanket you liked to use.

The sight of him waiting for you made your heart ache in the best way. Your boys truly were so thoughtful. Walking to Sebastian you let yourself be wrapped into the blanket. The first touch of that dryer warm fabric against your skin almost brought tears to your eyes. Before you knew it you were sat on the couch, all wrapped up, while your boyfriends flitted around the apartment. There was a cup placed on the couch table, a coaster below it to catch any drips running down the ceramic and prevent them from leaving a print on the wood. Oh.

Sebastian and Teuvo just awkwardly lingered around the room as Andrei walked in carrying a bowl of soup and placed it next to the cup. You could see the rosy spot on the back of his hand where he had burned himself while cooking but he pulled his hands away before you could react. He didn’t completely retreat like your other partners though. Instead he sat down next to you before pulling the table closer towards the couch. “Recipe from mama.” He said. “Makes bad days better.”

The realization of what was going on just made you tear up again. There was no way Andrei would have had enough time to cook after you had texted your boyfriends to pick you up. But if he didn’t make it from scratch following his mother’s recipe that could only mean one thing. He must have heated up some of the soup his mother had made for him the last time she visited. The soup that had been stashed away deep in the freezer for those days he felt especially homesick.

“Oh no. No. No. Don’t cry.” Andrei wrapped his arms around you gently, pulling you against his broad body. He continued to talk, something low and Russian you couldn’t understand, but you could suspect that it was something calming in his mother tongue. At least he didn't seem to mind you clutching at his hoodie and maybe crying into it a little.

The tears eventually stopped but you were still holding onto your boyfriend when your other boyfriends stopped hovering and instead came closer to the couch.

“Can we sit?” Sebastian asked, gesturing to the free space on either side of you and Andrei.

“Or would it be too much right now?” Teuvo added.

It was an age old conflict within you, wanting those you loved close for comfort while also needing as much space between you and others as possible. Today though, you needed them by your side more than anything. Making grabby hands at them felt slightly juvenile but you honestly didn’t care at the moment.

Theoretically all four of you should fit on the couch comfortably. It was big enough for your polycule as well as visitors in case your boys wanted to invite teammates over to play video games or hang out. But somehow you still ended up squished between the three of them.

You just let yourself enjoy their presence for a moment. Somebody began stroking your back through the blanket, soothing words in a foreign language filling the room.

“Can we…” You began, before stopping. They wouldn’t force you to talk but you still hated asking. Communication was important but you just couldn’t. “Can we not talk about it?”

A kiss was pressed against your hairline while somebody spoke, too soft to make out who. “Okay.”

By the time you gathered yourself enough to sit up and reach for the soup the hearty meal had cooled down, clinging onto the last remnants of warmth. It hadn’t lost any of the flavor though. You were well aware of the three pairs of eyes watching you eat but you just focused on the food in front of you.

Andrei didn’t fill the bowl up completely so it didn’t take you long to finish your soup. What Andrei had said was true —good soup, especially his mother’s soup, made bad days better— but your boys also helped immensely.

When you were done you couldn’t even put the bowl down before they jumped up.

“More?” Andrei asked at the same time that Teuvo asked “Done?”

Only Sebastian remained on the couch with you and you took the opportunity to snuggle closer.

“No thank you Andrei, that was more than enough. Thank you for sharing your soup with me.”

He smiled at you before Teuvo reached over and plucked the bowl from your hands, “Sit.” He told Andrei before walking away towards the kitchen. Behind you Sepe opened his arms and before you knew it you were sandwiched between the two men again.

By the time Teuvo came back the two guys had joined you under the blanket. Your oldest boyfriend just looked at you three before sighing and attempting to wrestle a corner from Sebastian so that he could join you as well. It was all in good fun but the chaos of it all —the tug of war about a blanket and the muffled Finnish curses—was enough to bring a smile to your face.

The four of you were an odd relationship but you fit together like pieces of a puzzle. Even if your boys were incapable of sharing a blanket they shared love and that was far more important. There was an understanding between you that you had never experienced in a relationship before and that you never wanted to lose.

Andrei noticed you smiling and wrapped his arms around you, using his body to shield yours from the play fight happening around you two. You just sighed —content— and leaned back against his broad chest, the smile not leaving your face. Some days were hard but with them by your side, you wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

#andrei svechnikov #sebastian aho #teuvo teravainen #teuvo teräväinen #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #andrei svechnikov imagine #sebastian aho imagine #teuvo teravainen imagine #poly imagine #…so this is twenty-five

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teecupangel · 5 months

Note

The otome game is called Ikemen Sengoku

https://www.tumblr.com/chasing-storm-s/721651359035932673/mais-guide-to-life-in-the-sengoku-period?source=share

Better believe Desmond would apply these lessons

It would be so funny if Desmond was transported in Ikemen Sengoku after his death and he believes that he was just transported into his world’s past.

So he does the first thing he thought of…

Look for the Japanese Brotherhood.

He knows they should exist.

By the time Altaïr was 80, they had gotten in contact with Japan and had been building their own Brotherhood.

Desmond still remembered that.

And, hey, it’s the 15th century.

All he needs is a ship and a crew and he can sail to Italy to be with Ezio after he gets some help from the Japanese Brotherhood.

He already had his ‘cover story’ all worked out.

He’s a descendant of the Ibn-La'Ahads and he got shipwrecked while chasing a Templar who he already killed.

(Something in the back of his head that smelled like the sea and rum felt like it was laughing at his cover story but he just ignored that)

He’ll help out in exchange for them helping him secure a ship.

And then…

He saw her.

It was the way she carried herself.

The words she spoke.

He knew…

She was just like him.

Unfortunately, she was always surrounded by high ranking-

No.

By freaking daimyos.

Desmond has no idea how this young woman managed to get entangled with the most powerful men in this era but he has this sense of responsibility to look after her since they’re in the same boat.

… and he needed information.

The young woman looked like she had been in this situation far longer than him and he has not found any clues that the Japanese Brotherhood even exists so she’s his best lead.

So… he infiltrates Azuchi.

And…

What the hell was up with all these guys???

Why were they all drop dead gorgeous??? Something was absolutely off with this situation.

Look.

Desmond wasn’t vain and he has high standards when it comes to beauty (thanks, Ezio) but, my god, they all looked like they could be a boy band, not the warlords ordering people to die for this and that reason.

When he finally manages to get to the young woman, she had been absolutely surprised to see him, not because he did appear in her bedroom out of nowhere but because he was a foreigner.

And he learned two things:

(1) She’s been here for a while and she has a friend named Sasuke who is trying to find a way to bring her back to her present day

(2) She’s not weirded out by the fact she’s surrounded by hot dudes. Sure, she thinks they’re handsome but she doesn’t think this is weird.

And that’s when Oda Nobunaga came upon them.

They managed to bluff their way into making it seem like Desmond is a foreign ninja (not exactly wrong?) who had been close to her family and that he was there to help her get back to her family.

He knows Oda Nobunaga doesn’t believe that but he also let Desmond stay.

Obviously to keep an eye on him but Desmond’s going to let it go because…

Something is off with this entire thing and being this close to the biggest evidence (all warlords are hot) and his only clue (the young woman named Mai) are his best bet to figuring out what the hell is happening here.

Unorganized Notes:

When he saw the warlords of Kasugayama Castle, he flipflops between “of course they’re all handsome too” and “whhhhyyy???”

Desmond takes a backseat over the entire thing. He doesn’t help with the fighting because he doesn’t have enough information to know if there is even a right side in this one or if both sides are selfish bastards destroying the peace of the land for their own greed. Of course, because he is staying with the Azuchi Warlords, he can be persuaded… maybe. He still remembers the Auditores’ loyalty to the Medici and George Washington’s betrayal so it’s a toss up.

He doesn’t trust Oda Nobunaga but he is polite when he’s talking to him. He starts to warm up to him once he starts to learn about Nobunaga’s ideas that were surprisingly progressive considering the time.

Mai becomes like a younger sister to him and he even gives her some self-defense lessons (sorry, Mitsuhide)

Oh, speaking of Mitsuhide. They’re completely suspicious of one another. Desmond doesn’t know enough of history to know that Mitsuhide is supposed to betray Nobunaga and his suspicion is based on Mitsuhide’s actions.

He’s nice to Masamune because he saw him caring for his troops. His bartender skills comes to play once and that’s how he learned how Masamune can’t hold his liquor.

He and Tokugawa butt heads a lot because Tokugawa thinks of him as a freeloader. After that, he hunted and smacked Tokugawa with raw meat and… that’s the start of their sorta feud XD

Hideyoshi and him get along quite well, especially since he saw Hideyoshi treat Mai like a big brother. He thinks “finally, a reasonable dude” then sees how devoted he is to Nobunaga and goes “ah, nevermind”. Still, he and Hideyoshi are what many would call… friends.

Mitsunari reminds him of Leonardo and Shaun combined so he has a soft spot for him. He tries not to show it and Hideyoshi finds it adorable.

And just when Desmond was trying to get a hang of his life here, Sasuke finally gets in touch with Mai and Sasuke recognizes him…

As Desmond Miles, the modern day protagonist of the first 5 games of Ubisoft’s Assassin’s Creed franchise.

(So @princesslikefanfics likes Mitsuhide and I played the early sections of Nobunaga and that’s why Mai is following the Azuchi Warlords route. If anyone wants an idea of him with the Kasugayama Warlords, let me know XD)

#mai gets a love interest #desmond gets a love interest #it can even be a harem XD #assassin's creed #desmond miles #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #fic idea: crossover #fic idea: ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku

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eyelessfaces · 6 months

Note

this might make too long of an idea for rn but,, llewyn angst where he breaks up with you for whatever (stupid) reason and leaves, only to come back a few months later needing a place to crash for the night (and an excuse to see you) and finds that youve been doing horribly mentally and physically,, im a slutttt for angst

again

llewyn davis x reader

summary: well, the ask basically

warnings: angst!! llewyn kinda accidentally being an asshole because he's really good at that, obvious mentions of a difficult break up and what goes with it

tags: hurt/comfort, eventual fluff

word count: 2.4k

—

Llewyn sighs as the building door closes behind him. He knew this was bound to happen, he knew he wouldn't be able to let go of you, he knew he would go back to this, to you one day or the other.

He sighs, pressing the button to your intercom. There's an unpleasant noise before you pick up and speak.

"Hello?" it feels strange to hear your voice again, after purposefully avoiding each other for so long for your own good.

Llewyn swallows, his mouth suddenly feeling dry and funny. "Hey, it's me" he says, instantly cringing and feeling the urge to dig his own grave as he pronounces the words. "Llewyn." he specifies, in case you would have already forgotten the sound of his voice.

There's a pause, no sign from you on the other side. He even thinks you decided to ignore him, and fairly, it was valid – it was your ex, ringing late, coming out of nowhere after breaking up with you unpromptedly.

You had every reason to ignore him, to leave him hanging just like he did for you.

"What do you want" your voice is harsh, cold, any expression seeming to filter through the piece of technology.

It makes his stomach churn. He knows that you know damn well what he wants, he knows he’s being annoying.

Maybe it was better if he slept outside tonight, after all. But he really, really fucking needed to see you.

"I uh… I need a place to stay" he declares, looking down at the stuff gathered at his feet. “Please, sweetheart, it’s pouring out there. It’s late, I have nowhere else to go”

There's a silence before he hears you sigh over the other side, then despite everything, he hears the buzzing sound of the door.

"Thank you angel. Thank you so much" he hastily blurts out, reaching to pick up his stuff at his feet.

—

When he reaches your floor, your door is already half opened, and he tentatively comes in, closing the door behind him.

Your whole apartment obviously smells of you, and it hurts. It hurts being reminded of everything, of how happy you were together, of how he fucked it all up.

He puts all of his stuff down when he reaches the living room, taking a look at you perched on your armchair, reading, not paying attention to him in the slightest. His heart sways at the fact that you’re wearing the cardigan he gifted you on your most recent birthday – it is stupid, of course you wouldn’t stop wearing it just because the person that bought it dumped you.

"You can pick leftovers from the fridge if you want" you declare nonchalantly, not tearing your gaze from your book, tearing Llewyn from his thoughts.

He quickly looks over to the kitchen, then back at you.

"...Okay. Thank you" You pinch your lips in a small smile in response, your eyes still directed towards your book. “And thank you for letting me stay. I appreciate it”

“Sure” you sigh as you close your book and readjust your position on the armchair, finally looking up at him. “I heard your latest song” you nod. “It’s good.”

"Thanks" he smiles awkwardly, giving you a polite nod. “I uh… It’s about you.” he declares as he sits down on your couch, his bed for the night. He had gotten back to his starting point, to what he gets to have from anyone, when he used to have so much here.

“I figured.” you sighed silently as you put your book away, lightly clearing your throat before giving him back the same bitter, awkward smile. It had been blatant the first time you listened to it. Then the more you listened to it, the more it hurt.

If there had been one good thing for Llewyn about breaking up with you, it was the waves of inspiration that came with it, the effortless urges to write about the hole it left.

He would rather have had it another way, though. In a way that didn’t involve hurting you, in a way that didn’t involve profoundly regretting his decision.

“Jim told me you were starting to get some recognition” you continue, a weak smile over your face.

He chuckles, nervously fiddling with his own hands.

“Recognition’s a huge word” he cocks his head to the side, raising his eyebrows. “But yeah, things are finally starting to move” he nods, pinching his lips in a small smile.

“That’s good. I’m happy for you” you declare with a tired, although genuine smile. “You deserve it.”

Llewyn gratefully smiles back at you, seeing your eyes quickly darting away from him to awkwardly look at your own lap. He lightly clears his throat, trying to dismiss the obvious feeling of tension stilling in the room. “How have you been doing? You uh… You seein’ anyone?” he asks, getting more comfortable on the couch.

You chuckle, stupidly shaking your head. “No, not really.” you cringe as your voice slightly cracks mid sentence. The silence after that feels heavy, you can only hear the traffic outside.

“You?” you eventually ask in return, finally looking back at him. “No” he shakes his head, and you somehow feel relieved. You shouldn’t be. He doesn’t care, not anymore.

You nod awkwardly, before running a hand over your face.

“I hm… I don’t think I’ll be able to move on from you.” you admit trying to diffuse the obvious tension, your face contorting into an uncomfortable expression. It makes it worse, and Llewyn scoffs, his signature asshole mocking scoff that tends to rub people the wrong way.

“What?” he asks bewildered, as if you just said the most stupid thing he has ever heard. “Of course you will. I don’t doubt you’ll find someone else soon”

“That’s not what it’s about” you sigh impatiently.

Llewyn shifts uncomfortably on the couch, feeling a mix of guilt and yearning in the air. He knows damn well what you mean. He has been there. He still is, but he can’t.

"I... I didn't come here expecting... I mean, I didn't want to burden you with all this," he stammers, running a hand through his hair to brush back his messy curls. “Our past”

You look at him with a mix of frustration and dismay. "You don't get it, do you? You dropped me with barely any explanation and now you just show up at my door, acting like nothing even happened. What do you expect?"

He sighs, his past actions hitting him in the face full speed. "I messed up, okay? I know I hurt you, and I can't change that. But if you wanna hear it then yeah, being without you, it's been... It's been hell. I thought I could move on, find inspiration elsewhere, but every fucking song I write, every fucking note I play, it's all about you."

You stare at him, searching for sincerity in his eyes before scoffing in dismay. There may be some, but the delivery makes it look awful. "Llewyn– you can't just waltz back into my life whenever it's convenient for you. I can't keep going through this emotional rollercoaster whenever you decide you need something."

He nods, regret painted across his face. He shouldn’t have come here, that’s true. He shouldn’t have relapsed and come back here just to get a glimpse of you.

"I know. I messed up, and I don't expect you to take me back or anything. I just needed a place to stay tonight, and I didn't know where else to go."

There's a heavy silence in the room, filled with unresolved emotions. You take a deep breath, as if steeling yourself for what is to come next. You do your best to ignore the knot tightening in your throat.

"Okay. Great. You know what? Forget about it, everything's fine. I'll leave you the living room" you declare in a haste, getting up from your seat. "You know where the blankets are, you just came here for a place to sleep, after all" you throw before disappearing out of his sight, leaving him reflecting on his behavior and poor choice of words.

For such a talented songwriter, he surely had an awful way with words.

The living room is left in silence, filled with an unbearable tension. Llewyn sits on the couch, staring at the space where you were just moments ago. He feels a mixture of regret, guilt, and frustration with himself for not being able to express what he truly feels, and instead acting like an asshole.

As he looks around the apartment, memories of the time you both spent together flood his mind.

The familiar surroundings, the scent of your perfume lingering in the air – it all serves as a painful reminder of what he lost, again.

He can't escape the fact that he was the one who fucked it all up, and now he's facing the tough consequences.

The sound of your footsteps echo in the hallway, and he hears the bedroom door close. Llewyn runs a hand over his face, letting out a deep sigh. He knows he mishandled the situation, and he's not sure how to fix it. Not even sure if he can.

After a moment of contemplation, he decides to get up and find the blankets you mentioned. As he walks through the apartment, he notices the pictures on the walls – snapshots of happier times. It only intensifies the ache in his chest.

—

Llewyn can’t close his eyes, can’t stay in the same position for over twenty seconds. He tosses and turns on your couch, replaying the conversation in his mind over and over again as he curls up under the thick blanket he’s draped in.

He can’t let your relationship remain like this; he can’t leave it here, can’t spend the night and leave in the morning like nothing ever happened.

It feels automatic as he sits up and gets rid of the blanket over his body. He doesn’t think twice as he beelines to your bedroom either, softly knocking on the door before he hears your voice and tentatively steps inside. Your bedroom is bathed in darkness, save for the warm, dim light of your bedside lamp.

You glance over at him from your side of the bed, waiting for anything to happen, for him to say anything.

"I'm sorry," he finally mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to come here tonight and mess everything up. I just... I needed to see you, but I didn't think it through." he pauses before speaking again. “I didn’t mean to hurt you even more.”

You glance at him, your expression a mix of frustration and sadness.

“Come over here,” you order, not louder than a whisper. He does and joins you, sitting on the edge of the bed he used to sleep in just a few months ago. "Llewyn, this is not about tonight. It's about everything. You can't just walk back into my life and act like nothing happened." you explain, frowning. “You need to understand that this is unfair to me.”

He nods, feeling the weight of your words. "I know, I just... I miss you, and I didn't handle things well. I should've talked to you, explained myself."

"It's a bit late for that now, don't you think?" you reply, your voice still tinged with bitterness.

He sighs. "I know I– I messed up, and I can't change the past. But I still care about you, and I didn't want to see you hurt. It’s just… You know. I can’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated, I can’t give you enough and I have shit to figure out, you know that. You know that's why things are that way between us”

You meet his dark eyes filled with sincerity. There’s still something he doesn’t get. “I don’t care about that Llewyn” you frown, your hand coming to cover his. “I was happy with you. That’s all that mattered to me.” you nod, trying to prevent the materialized proof of your emotions from threatening your eyes. “Are you happier now that we’re apart?” you ask.

“Fuck no,” he scoffs, his hand grabbing yours, his hold tightening.

“Me neither. Not at all.” you admit and take a deep, shaky breath. Your expression and mask fall down, and tears finally slip away. Llewyn doesn’t think twice as he exhales and pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you.

“I’m sorry. I thought it would make your life easier to get away from you” he whispers as he rubs your back up and down. “Every success I achieve just feels like a failure without you to share it with." he admits quietly.

The room is quiet, save for the sound of your quiet sobs. Llewyn holds you tighter, as if trying to make up for all the times he couldn't hold you when you needed it the most.

"I messed up, sweetheart. I messed up big time," he murmurs into your hair. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but all I did was hurt you and myself. I don't know how to fix this, but I will try if you let me."

You pull away slightly, looking into his eyes, searching for any sign that he means what he says. His gaze is intense, genuine, and remorseful.

You nod, chewing onto your bottom lip. "Can we try again?" you ask, your voice cracking.

He nods, his thumb gently wiping away your tears.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "We'll take it slow, okay? No more impulsive decisions. We talk, we communicate, and if it doesn't work, at least we'll know we tried."

Llewyn nods again, a determined look on his face. "Whatever it takes. I don't wanna lose you for good."

And in that dimly lit room, with the weight of past mistakes hanging in the air, you both find a glimmer of hope – a chance to rebuild what was broken, a chance for a new beginning.

The night unfolds with shared confessions, tears, and the raw honesty that was missing for so long. Llewyn opens up about his fears and regrets, and you express the pain and confusion you've been carrying. It's not an easy conversation, but it's a necessary one.

As the hours pass, you find yourselves talking about the good times, the laughter, and the shared dreams that once bound you together.

You fall asleep when the sun begins to rise, casting a soft glow through the windows. Exhausted and emotionally spent, you both lay in a comfortable silence, holding each other like you used to.

It's a fragile beginning, but there's a sense of mutual understanding, a shared commitment to try and make things work again.

—

reblogs and feedback are greaaaaaaaaaatly appreciated!!!!!

inside llewyn davis taglist: @apollo-enthusiast @scarabgrant @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missmarmaladeth @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift @campingwiththecharmings @dameronshandholder @spider-starry @spxctorsslxt @dowbastan

#llewyn davis #llewyn davis x reader #llewyn davis x you #llewyn davis fanfiction #inside llewyn davis #llewyn davis fic #llewyn davis fanfic #oscar isaac

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argyrocratie · 7 months

Text

"We have good reason to worry about this: As Israelis count their dead, politicians in Israel and the US call for Palestinian blood in direct, genocidal language. “We are fighting human animals and we will act accordingly,” said Israeli Defense Minister Yoav Gallant yesterday. “Finish them, Netanyahu,” said former Ambassador to the United Nations and Republican presidential candidate Nikki Haley. “Neutraliz[e] the terrorists,” said Democratic senator John Fetterman. Jews share memes about the highest number of Jewish casualties since the Holocaust, not bothering to ask who, right now, is being ethnically cleansed, or how many massacres of this size Gaza has seen in the last dozen years. This language deploys the bombs that fall on Gazans from the sky, leveling whole neighborhoods, wiping out families without warning, huddled in their homes because they have nowhere to flee. “There are body parts scattered everywhere. There are still people missing,” one man north of Gaza City told CNN. “We’re still looking for our brothers, our children. It’s like we’re stuck living in a nightmare.”

We will likely soon see this genocidal impulse spread, as the Israeli government hands out automatic weapons to West Bank settlers, many of whom were already armed eliminationists. In this way, Jewish grief is routed back into the violence of a merciless system of Palestinian subjugation that reigns from the river to the sea. It is mobilized by US politicians who support Benjamin Netanyahu and his extremist government, which has intensified Palestinian death and displacement and disappeared any hope of a diplomatic solution. It is marshaled to drum up support for sending weapons to Israel, even as we know that, as Haggai Mattar wrote in +972 Magazine, “there is no military solution to Israel’s problem with Gaza, nor to the resistance that naturally emerges as a response to violent apartheid.”

(...)

On October 7th, my own feelings fluctuated wildly. My first feeling was fear. To listen closely to the genocidal language of this Israeli government over the past year has been to live in terror of the day they would find the excuse to pursue it. Writing in n+1, Jewish Currents contributing editor David Klion recounts the words of a campus activist in the wake of 9/11: “They’re already dead,” he’d said on the day Bush declared war on Iraqis, their fates sealed. I felt these words in my body, sobbing loudly in front of the screen. There were also bursts, very early on, of awe. I watched the image of the bulldozer destroying the Gaza fence again and again and cried tears of hope. I watched Palestinian teenagers seemingly out joyriding in a place half a mile away that they’d never been; a Gazan blogger suddenly reporting from Israel. But these images were quickly joined by others—the image of a woman’s body, mostly naked and bent unnaturally in the back of a truck; rooms full of families lying in piles, the walls spattered in blood. I wanted desperately to keep these images separate—to hold close the liberatory metaphor and banish the violent reality. By the time I began to accept that these were pictures of the same event, I was distraught, and contending with a rising alienation from those who did not seem to share my grief, especially as the scope of the massacre came into view.

(...)

Part of what has made the experience of this event feel so different from the status quo—and so different to Palestinians and Jews—comes from the fact that Palestinians were undeniably the actors, for once, not the acted upon. The protagonists of the story. I consider it an enormous failure of our movements that we have not been able to build a vehicle for that kind of reversal in any other way thus far. Our Jewish movements for Palestine were not powerful enough to stop other Jews from gunning down Palestinians in peaceful marches at the Gazan border fence, or to keep Palestinians from being fired, harassed, and sued for speaking the truth about their experience or—God forbid—advocating the nonviolent tactic of boycott.

And now, we do not have a shared struggle able to credibly respond to these massacres of Israelis and Palestinians. With all of the work that many Jews and Palestinians have done to reach toward each other over the years, I believe at heart it is this failure that is now driving us apart. There is no formidable political formation that I know of that can hold the political subjectivity of both Jews and Palestinians in this moment without simply attempting to assimilate one into the other. No place where Jews and Palestinians who agree on the basics of Palestinian liberation—right of return, equality, and reparations—are poised to turn the synthesis of these two subjectivities into a coherent strategy.

(...)

One of the most terrible things about this event is the sense of its inevitability. The violence of apartheid and colonialism begets more violence. Many people have struggled with the straightjacket of this inevitability, straining to articulate that its recognition does not mean its embrace. I am reminding myself that it was from Palestinians, many of them writing and speaking in these pages, that I learned to think of Palestine as a site of possibility—a place where the very idea of the nation-state, which has so harmed both peoples, could be remade or destroyed entirely."

...

-Arielle Angel, “We Cannot Cross Until We Carry Each Other” (October 12, 2023)

#israel #palestine #arielle angel

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decks-writing-blog · 2 months

Text

Whatever the Fuck Benrey is: Chapter Nine: Can't Hurt

Chapter One

Previous Chapter

Benrey read whatever he could find online, searching specifically for weird and interesting stuff, until Gordon fell asleep on the other end, his soft snoring coming through the phone. He then read a little more just in case. Gordon had sounded awfully shaken after all. A not unfamiliar quality to his voice, he’d been that shaken or worse during much of their trip through Black Mesa together, but… Benrey now knew how fragile he was. And he’d decided Gordon was his pet so it was his responsibility to make it better.

Eventually he had to call it good enough though as he didn’t know when the hotel manager was likely to return and he needed to be gone before then. So he closed the web browser and shut the computer down, making sure to turn the monitor off as well.

“’Kay, uh, gotta get off the computer now before I get caught. I’ll call you later or text… I don’t know, whatever I feel like. Doesn’t really matter ‘cause you can’t hear me anyway. Bye.” He hung up and started back for his room.

He waited until the sun was fully up before pulling his phone off charge again. Gordon hadn’t texted. Not surprising, he’d have heard the ping but he was starting to get restless. Playing games was great and all but… no multiplayer games or anyone to chat with while playing was less fun. Something else to do again for a little while would be welcome.

‘awake yet?’ he sent to Gordon.

He stared at he screen for five minutes before giving up; apparently the answer was ‘no’. Maybe a good thing… unless Gordon was having another nightmare. Perhaps Benrey should’ve gone back with him. He’d thought about it but during the first trip nothing dangerous had happened and then on the car ride back, all the nosy, annoying, bothersome questions had convinced him not to. But if Gordon’s mind was an enemy… it couldn’t kill him though, could it? So it was probably fine.

Pocketing the phone, Benrey turned his attention to the window. Lifting the closed curtains, he stepped under them so he could look out and see if anyone was around. … No one seemed to be so he grabbed his new camera before walking through the wall, putting him out back behind the hotel.

It was warmer out here already, the pleasant desert heat starting to set in. He’d never given his enjoyment of warmth and heat much thought, they just felt nice, but perhaps Gordon was correct and he was cold-blooded; didn’t produce much heat of his own. Did that matter? … No, but it was kind of interesting.

Shaking off that thought, he started making his way around to the front of the building so he could follow the sidewalk. It would perhaps lead to somewhere interesting, right? Upon reaching it, he slowed his pace a little. He had nowhere to be, nothing to do, and no one coming to bring him back to the Black Mesa facility.

He fiddled with the camera, turning it on. Gordon had called it cheap when getting it for him but it was far from a shitty disposable one. It had digital display, making it feel fancy to Benrey. As he walked along he snapped a photo of anything that caught his eye. Roadkill, the way the sunlight glistened off the jagged edges of a broken window, what at first look like more roadkill but upon zooming in was actually just an old boot that had been run over a few times, and other such things. A lot of it wasn’t really that interesting but he’d never been in Tuefort unsupervised for more an hour or two before.

People passed him, going both ways. The sidewalks were bare enough that his slow pace didn’t bother anyone enough to bump him or tell him to go faster. No one paid any attention to him whatsoever. If he tried to talk to any of them, they’d brush him off, say they were too busy. He’d need a cop uniform if he wanted anyone to heed him. … Gordon had stressed he not cause problems though and borrowing a cop uniform to join their ranks, even for a little while, would undoubtedly cause some. Especially since cops were a lot like the military, right? They liked to shoot things. Getting shot if he got caught trying to sneak in would likely call attention because of the whole healing, not human thing – which Gordon would probably classify as a problem – and he was expressly forbidden from shooting back if he could even get a gun.

What if he did it anyway though? Or if he was breaking the rules, what if he did something properly fun? Like steal a car. He’d never driven in real life before but he could probably figure it out. A car chase with the police had to be even more fun if it was real, right? Not that something being fun in a video game necessarily made it fun in real life but it sure seemed like the kind of thing that would be.

There was car parked on the side of the road ahead. An old rusted blue pickup truck that if video games were anything to go by would probably be pretty slow and clunky to handle. So not exactly the fastest chase but for a first time might be good. He slowed to a stop as he reached it. It was empty, its owner nowhere in immediate evidence

Normally, he’d have just phased through the door and tried to figure out how to steal it from there. It seemed as if it might be fun so why not go for it? But if he did, Gordon would be mad. Not that making him mad was a big issue or anything but… it would mean no PS3 for sure. And Gordon might start hating him again. Not a huge deal but he was just starting to like Benrey and ruining that would be lame.

Also, Gordon might do more than just start hating him again. He might change his mind about keeping him secret from the rest of the scientists. Some or all of whom might decide to try to get Benrey back into Black Mesa’s custody, Gordon may even assist them in such an endeavor. With a car, Benrey could theoretically escape and evade any such attempt much easier than on foot. He could drive out of Tuefort and go anywhere in the world; lose them so thoroughly they had no hope of ever catching up. But that would mean no more Gordon or Tommy or the rest of the Science Team unless they came with him. Tommy was the only one who might and that was a big ‘might’. Probably he’d be alone, possibly for a long time. No one to play games with if he ever did get a console and TV of his own somehow.

And so, he lifted the camera and snapped a photo of the truck before turning away and resuming walking down the sidewalk. Following the rules wasn’t all bad anyway. He was always telling Gordon to follow them, mostly just for fun now that he wasn’t a security guard anymore. So Gordon doing the same to him was justified.

As if blessed by resisting the urge to stop behaving, his phone pinged in his pocket. Putting his camera away, he pulled it out instead. Gordon had responded. ‘I am now. Good morning.’

Not wanting to attempt texting and walking – he’d seen people on TV doing so walk into poles a few too many times to risk such an embarrassment himself – he continued walking until he found a bench he could sit on while he typed out his reply. ‘not gonna ask if im still behaving’

‘No. I trust you. Don’t betray that trust or no PS3 for you.’

Benrey had made the right choice for sure; Gordon trusted him now. Neat! ‘sleep well no more nightmares?’

‘None that I remember.’ Not a ‘no’ though or any kind of confirmation that the rest of his night had been good. ‘Thanks for last night. I appreciate it. Do you think we could have a phone call before I go to sleep tonight?’

‘sure’

‘Thanks. Talk to you then. I need to go eat breakfast.’

Well, now Benrey had something interesting to do later. Not until tonight though. … Bubby was supposed to come back to Tuefort today, right? Benrey closed his text chat with Gordon and scrolled until he found Bubby’s number.

‘hang out when u get back to 2fort play games maybe?’

It was only a few seconds before the answer came. ‘No’

Seems getting back on Gordon’s good side didn’t mean he was back on everyone’s. Not surprising but still…‘:(’ He put his phone away and resumed walking.

Not even five minutes went by before his phone buzzed again. It was Bubby. ‘Fine. We can hang out. I got nothing better to do anyway.’

‘sweet text me when u get here’

***

With the half the survivors off on their rescue mission deeper into the facility and a few more dropped off at the hospital, there were only a few of them left to begin the salvaging of resources, research documents, experiments, computers – even the damaged ones, as long as the hard drive was intact or other parts that could be sold or reused elsewhere – and anything worth taking in general. A small enough number that even Breen was all but forced to bodily help as well. Gordon’s single hand gave him the perfect excuse to drift between assisting Dr. Coomer and Tommy instead of going off on his own like everyone else was doing.

Most of the work involved breaking into the living spaces not marked as belonging to any of the known survivors. They were looking for bits of experiments brought home, research papers, or anything else related to the work done by the scientists of Black Mesa. A lot of scientific advancement had taken place here, some of it with the potential to be pretty big, anything that could be salvaged would likely be worth the effort. At Gordon’s suggestion, they were also collecting personal artifacts to send to families who’d lost loved ones. Which added a whole new layer of work; putting things into boxes marked with the appropriate person’s name.

Naturally, going into unexplored rooms revealed more bodies. Well into the process of liquefying, some were genuinely hard to tell if they were human or alien. After last night’s nightmare, that was even more unsettling than it otherwise would’ve been. Gordon used his missing hand as an excuse to not be the one to drag them to new body pile in the center area to be burned once they were all done here. That left him to search those rooms alone and sadly, the smell didn’t leave with the body. Somehow, he managed to not vomit until the third such room.

By the time his body gave on heaving his guts up, allowing him to straighten, darkness danced at the edges of his vision. He swayed as he left the corner and stumbled out of the room. The smell seemed to follow him, closing the door helped only a little. With a groan he leaned his back against the wall next to and slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Surely a break was warranted.

He pulled out his phone and pushed it open. ‘Hey.’ he texted Benrey because he hadn’t closed their chat.

‘yo’ came the answer a short time later.

‘What you up to?’

‘hanging with bubby u?’

Perhaps Gordon should be worried about that given what happened the last time Benrey and Bubby got buddy-buddy. But he’d moved past that with Bubby a while ago now and seemingly Benrey now too somehow. ‘Taking a break.’ He wanted to talk more but what could he say to continue the conversation? And Benrey had just confessed to being busy hanging out with Bubby so all he added before hitting ‘send’ was, ‘Don’t have much time though. Talk to you later.’

‘k’

Gordon was sort of starting to not be bothered by how bad his texting was. Enough so that reading back over their prior conversations was somewhat comforting. Not as much as more conversation would’ve been but enough to keep him sane until Dr. Coomer announced his return with a classic, “Hello Gordon!”

Putting his phone away, Gordon looked up at him. “Hello Dr. Coomer.”

“Did you find anything in the room while I was disposing of the corpse?” His voice was chipper as always… or not always, but most of the time. Was he really chipper or was it something else making him speak like that? Some kind of speech impediment that effected his tone? He definitely had some kind of speech something going on so… maybe. Regardless he certainly didn’t seem bothered.

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Not lose your mind.”

“Well, it helps that my mind is in my brain which is inside my steal-plated skull.” He tapped the side of his head. “That makes it quite hard to lose. Have you lost yours? I could help you find it. What does it look like?”

Seemingly Gordon had indeed lost his mind because it had been his idea to come back here to help any survivors they could and he’d volunteered to help with this too. Why had he done that? He could’ve just let it be, not come back to help anyone because he was already out. Surely he couldn’t have been blamed for such; he owed no one any more than he’d already given. But here he was… and he was about to get up and continue, wasn’t he? The research was important but more than that was taking care of the bodies. Burning them in a big heap wasn’t the best funeral but it was far better than letting them continue to rot alone. And their loved ones deserved closure in the form of whatever could be gotten to them alongside the news. Breen hadn’t been planning to do the latter until Gordon had pressed him to, making Gordon’s presence valuable.

And so with a heavy sigh, he stood. “Nah, I’m sure my mind will turn up on its own eventually. For now, let’s go back in here and finish searching it for stuff.” Before Dr. Coomer could answer, he turned and headed back in.

Despite their plans and best efforts, they were unable to finish going through the whole living area in a single day. Gordon could perhaps still leave on the morrow, let the rest of them to finish the job. Tempting but he should at least finish making sure people who’d lost loved ones would be getting what they could of said loved one’s possessions. It was the only thing left he could do.

And so after exchanging greetings during the promise pre-bed phone call with Benrey… “Also, I’m probably gonna be staying another day.”

“Why?”

“Gotta finish with this area then most of us are heading back to town. Except for Breen,” at Gordon’s suggestion because he was the head of Black Mesa and thus should stick around until everyone else was out, “and a few others waiting for the rescue team.” After that would come the long arduous process of sending teams down to save what all they could to bring back from the other areas of the facility since it’d be a long time before it was operational again and some of it would be needed at wherever their temporary setup ended up being. Not to mention, hiring the people to even start fixing it couldn’t start until as much of the top secret stuff was removed as possible.

“Lame.”

Lifting his coffee half way to his lips, Gordon paused to look down on the phone, currently on speaker and resting on the couch’s armrest. It was a bit precarious with how close to the edge it had to be to allow the charging cable to reach it but as long as he was careful not to bump it, it should be fine. “Why’s that lame?” He hadn’t expected Benrey to care much.

“It’s boring and your rules are dumb, making it more boring.”

“You got plenty of video games though.”

“Yeah, no online games though and no one to play with. Bubby’s worse at Melee than you and you only got one hand. He doesn’t even like it, said it wasn’t ‘very fun’ don’t know what I see in it.”

“Well… sorry. I’m sure you’ll survive though.”

“Barely.”

“Just uh… continue to behave, please.”

“I will, I will… only ‘cause you promised to buy me a PS3 though so you better keep your promise.”

“Well, when I do head back, Breen’s lending me the company card to rent a space to store all the stuff we’ve already recovered and to rent a building to start setting the lab up in if I can find a good one. And uh… we’re kinda owed something nice, right?”

“Ooh, naughty. Gonna steal some money, huh? I could report you for that. But uh… I ain’t a security guard anymore so… I guess I can look the other way. Just once, only ‘cause I want it real bad.”

“It ain’t stealing. He’s lending me the card and I’m like basically second in command of the company now anyway. I’m calling multiple shots on this salvage operation so… I probably won’t do it but it’s a fun thought, huh?”

“Boo! Lame. Gordon Goody-two-shoes-man over here being a big loser. I finally let you steal something and you chicken out.”

Gordon chuckled hard enough to almost spill his coffee. He had to lean forward and put it back on the coffee table in front of him. “Don’t worry, man, I’ll still get you a PS3, soon as I can, I promise. Gotta worry about getting a more permanent place to stay first though which is gonna be expensive because … duh. But soon as I get back, I’ll play more Melee with you or whatever you wanna play, ‘kay?” That actually sounded like a good time.

“Yeah, ‘kay.”

“Now, uh, in the meantime…” He paused to retrieve his coffee cup, giving him a bit more time to figure out how to word this. He hadn’t given it as much thought as he should’ve before calling. Benrey had given him a good opening angle though. “You said that uh… you like playing games with people. Obviously we can’t over the phone but maybe uh… you play something and talk to me while you do, read the text and stuff, maybe talk to me about it a bit? It wouldn’t exactly be hanging out, watching you play something, but it’d still be less lonely, right?” And more importantly would keep him on the phone with Gordon for potentially a long time, hopefully even all night, if he was willing.

“Don’t you gotta go to sleep soon?”

“Nah, skipping a night of sleep won’t hurt.” Or at least not as much as the nightmares he’d likely have should he attempt to sleep. He’d spent the day rooting through dead people’s stuff and occasionally coming across the dead people themselves, after last night’s nightmare, that was bound to make getting good sleep impossible. So really, not trying to sleep was likely to be more restful in the end.

“Really? You sure? ‘Cause uh… don’t humans sleep every night?”

“Usually, yeah but only because not doing so makes us kinda tired. One night isn’t a big deal though so since you’re like… bored and lonely, hanging out over the phone should help, right?”

“Oh, okay.” Benrey, as expected, didn’t need much convincing. And staying up apparently wouldn’t do him any harm either, making it a win-win. Having a non-human friend was fantastic. “I haven’t started Wind Waker yet so I’ll do that one.”

“Sounds good.” Gordon finally took a sip of his coffee. Brewed as strong as he could bear it, he winced a little at the taste but he’d likely get used to it long before the night was through because it was going to be a long one. Benrey should help make it bearable though.

Doing the same stuff as the day prior but this time after a night of no sleep was both harder in some ways and easier in others. Harder in all the ways staying up all night made everything harder; trouble focusing, mild headache, general overall ucky lethargic feeling. Easier in that, emotions and thoughts dulled by exhaustion were harder to stir into despair even upon discovering another forgotten body behind a locked door.

Even when it got up to start shambling towards him he didn’t feel as bothered as he should. Instead he raised his gun hand and riddled it and the headcrab controlling it full of holes. His gun hand wasn’t as loud as normal guns but that didn’t mean it wasn’t loud.

“Wow, that uh… woke me up a bit, I think,” he said over the ringing in his ears as he watched the headcrab zombie fall.

“Fine shooting, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer said, patting him on the shoulder before stepping forward to bend down and grab the corpse’s wrist. “I will drag this to the corpse pile now while you continue our search.”

“’Kay, see you in a bit.” The adrenaline had been the exact thing he needed. He was doing just fine.

They finally finished a few hours after lunch, just a bit too late in the day to justify going back to Tuefort today. Instead Gordon sat down with the rest of the group again. While they all set to chatting, he folded his arms into a pillow for his head on the table in front of him. Surely a quick nap while everyone’s conversation floated over him would be fine. If the nap lasted long enough maybe he wouldn’t even need to go to bed proper tonight… wouldn’t that be nice?

Gordon woke with a jolt, his heart racing, his breath fast. Despite that, the dream was already starting to fade from his mind, leaving nothing clear in his memory other than that his dreams had conjured the mass of rotting flesh again. He could almost still smell it even now… no not almost, could.

The headcrab zombie he’d killed had been close enough that some of its gore had splashed on him when he’d shot it. Tired, he hadn’t changed his clothes, especially since a shower wasn’t available; this part of the facility had run out of reserve water yesterday. There wasn’t enough to be overpowering but it did make his stomach churn with nausea.

Shaking his head, he reached over to the nightstand, fumbling along it until he found his glasses. The clock read 11:35pm. Dr. Coomer must’ve brought him to bed, either immediately or once bed time rolled around. His nap had lasted a while. … It didn’t leave him well rested by any means, especially since he’d still had nightmare but it had helped a little anyway.

With a groan he dragged himself out of bed and over to the light switch so he could see well enough to change clothes into something that didn’t have the smell of death clinging to it. Once done, as was becoming habit – whether good or bad was hard to tell – he checked his phone. Benrey had texted several times since their last exchange.

‘yo want to do another call before bed?’ ‘u good?’ ‘tomy said u fell asleep at table wierd place to fall asleep but ok’ Each was about an hour apart, according to their time stamps.

Having been off charge all day, the battery was running low so Gordon wondered back out the living room area to retrieve the charger, bringing it back to his room to plug in while he sat down on the bed to reply. ‘Yeah, exhausting work so took a nap, lasted longer than I thought.’ Should he apologize for worrying Benrey. That’s the vibe he’d got from the texts but… it was hard to tell for sure with just words on a screen. Much more likely, Benrey was bored and thus looking to converse to pass the time. Probably best not to assume anything. ‘You keeping yourself entertained?’

Perhaps lending credence to the idea that Benrey had been worried by Gordon’s lack of response, his reply came swift. ‘sort of im bored call?’ He was saying he was bored though so probably just that. There was no reason he should care enough to be worried.

As Benrey had done to him, instead of responding, Gordon pushed the keyboard back in place, allowing him to call. The charging cable meant that he had to keep it on speaker as it couldn’t reach to his face comfortably but he’d likely have to set it so eventually away like he’d done before.

“How often do you need to sleep anyway?” he asked as soon as Benrey picked up. How many nights in a row could he depend on Benrey to keep him company while everyone else was asleep?

“Uh… like once a week or every other week if I’m really not in the mood. Humans gotta sleep more than that, right?”

“Yeah, we gotta sleep uh… most nights, missing a night here or there is fine though, not an issue at all.” And he didn’t need to mention the whole eight to nine hours thing. Not that Benrey would care but if he told Tommy or Dr. Coomer that Gordon was intentionally not sleeping as much as was recommended, they might try to bother him about it. And then he’d have to explain he wouldn’t be able to sleep well anyway so might as well try to avoid the nightmares via not sleeping until the was too exhausted for them. … Or maybe they wouldn’t care either. Gordon was the only normal human in the group, the weakest among them by far. Why would any of them care about how fragile he was?

“But uh…” he continued before the pause could carry on for too long, “that means, the other night, when you were here and joined me in bed you, um, didn’t need to, right? You just… wanted to?”

“Yeah, bro, you’re warm, it’s nice. Won’t happen again.”

“Nah, it’s fine, you can… I mean, uh… it was nice. So you know, if um… again wouldn’t be bad if you wanted to and… stuff. Only if you want to though… or um… uh…” He shouldn’t have brought it up but if Benrey were physically here right now it would’ve been really fucking nice. So it was probably a good thing he wasn’t because Gordon’s desperate loneliness was pathetic and he really needed to get over it. Especially if it was making the thought of cuddling Benrey of all people sound appealing. Not that it had been bad, just he shouldn’t want to do it again. But could he really be blamed whilst in Black Mesa, the source of his nightmares? Once out, surely it would be better.

“Uh… maybe. Let’s talk ‘bout something else, huh?”

“Yeah, good idea.” Anything would do as long as he wasn’t alone in this horrid little room. He’d go back to Tuefort tomorrow, in the same car as Tommy or Dr. Coomer, didn’t matter which, and then things would go back to being good.

Next Chapter

#hlvrai #frenrey #benrey #hlvrai gordon

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