#Betrayals (Blending 4) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luvrseung · 6 months

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𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬

## pairing(s)! motorcycle driver heeseung! x yn!

## synopsis! yn's life takes an unexpected turn when she catches her boyfriend cheating on her and she meets the mysterious Heeseung, a captivating man on a motorcycle. After a brief yet memorable encounter, he vanishes, leaving her longing for more. Months later, they cross paths again. Yn's mixed emotions and Heeseung's determination do they have a happy ending?

## genre! not too bad angst, fluff at the end ! Idk dude I just work here

## wc! 8.9k

## warning(s)! cursing, and not much else?? but if u feel like there should be a warning for anything else, please let me know asap!!

## a/n! THIS IS MY LONGEST FIC EVER EVERRRRR. its currently 4:15 am as i post this and i have class at 11! hahaha.. anyways. inspo hit me like a truck... well, like a motorcycle HEHEHE. ahem.. okay. i hope you guys like this i really enjoyed writing it! please send me any feedback! mwah mwah i love uu i go sleep now! also pls don't mind any typos or errors im so delirious rn thank u bye bye

You step out of the dimly lit restroom, returning to the bar, only to find an empty seat beside you, where your boyfriend was seated just moments ago. His jacket remains draped over the backrest, a silent testament to his brief absence. Curiosity piques your interest as you assume he must have also ventured to the restroom. Settling in, you rest your head on your hand, elbow propped against the sleek bar, and survey the vibrant club that surrounds you. The music's thunderous pulse reverberates through your chest, infusing the air with almost a tangible energy. A sensual blend of alcohol and alluring perfumes weaves a heavy tapestry which fills your senses. In this tantalizing environment, the crowd is a dynamic kaleidoscope of movement and emotion—dancers, laughter, clinking glasses, tendrils of smoke swirling upward—each contributing to the sensory feast. Among the sea of passion and revelry, a singular couple draws your unwavering attention. Their fervent embrace seems to defy the boundaries of time and space, an intense kiss that hangs on the precipice of necessity. In an instant, your heart plummets, and the couple reluctantly disentangles from each other. As your gaze locks onto their faces, the unfolding revelation leaves you breathless.

As you rise from your barstool, your steps carry a mix of uncertainty and disbelief, drawing you inexorably toward the pulsating heart of the dance floor. The scene before your eyes demands confirmation, and what you find shatters your world in an instant. There, under the chaotic spell of the music's relentless rhythm, stands your boyfriend, now a stranger, locked in a passionate embrace with another woman. Her arms are a seductive snakily coil around the back of his neck, and their laughter mingles with the infectious beats of the music, now assaulting your ears as you reach the realization of betrayal. A concoction of emotions—upset, betrayal, and the intoxicating fumes of alcohol—swirl within you, drawing you forward as the heat crawls up your face and flows into the rest of your body. Your feet guide you through the trembling beat, and, with a burst of fiery rage, you confront the pair. In an act of defiance and heartbreak, your open palm collides with your now ex-boyfriend's cheek in a resounding slap, the sound lost in the under the booming music that fills the club. The mysterious girl, who moments ago was dancing with him, stumbles back, her face etched with shock and disbelief. With your wounded pride, you retreat to the sanctuary of the bar. A final shot materializes before you, its amber contents beckoning with an illusory promise of numbness. You down the drink with the recklessness and no caution, the burn in your throat eclipsed by the feeling of your shattered heart.

You inform the bartender with a casual wave that the responsibility for the bill rests with the man you arrived with, an excuse that offers a semblance of dignity as you navigate your unsteady exit from the bar's confines. The city's nightlife swirls around you, a vivid blanket of neon lights and indistinct conversations. Perched on the curb outside the bar, you release a heavy, audible sigh that seems to resonate with the depth of your emotions. The exasperated "pfft" escapes your lips as you dismissively mutter, "What a waste." you recline, propping yourself up on your arms behind you, while your gaze ascends towards the night sky. It's as if you're summoning the attention of a god you don't even believe in, the stars and the moon bearing witness to your turmoil. Unbidden tears begin to well in your eyes, forming glistening pools that threaten to overflow. Yet, in a strange paradox, laughter bubbles up from within your heavy chest, as if mocking the absurdity of the situation. "He made a mistake… losing me? How stupid," you whisper to yourself, the words a bittersweet blend of self-affirmation and ironic amusement. Your tears, now fallen, trace glittering paths down your cheeks, their journey reflecting the city's glimmering lights. You cast your gaze downward, scrutinizing your ensemble—a striking red dress that billows around you, paired with towering, sleek black heels. In that moment of reflection, you realize that it was not you who was lost; it was him. Your attire serves as a poignant reminder that you are a treasure to be cherished, a realization that strengthens your resolve even as tears continue to fall.

Amid the quiet solace of your unspoken sorrows, the sudden roar of a motorcycle's powerful engine reverberates through the air, and your attention is instinctively drawn to the source. With a magnetic allure, the motorcycle glides to a stop not far from your lonesome, commanding your undivided focus. You study the machine as if decoding a riddle; its lustrous body gleams in pristine white, a stark contrast to the glinting silver rims of the wheels. The interior and seats, ensconced in shadowy allure, exude an air of enigmatic sophistication, cloaked in inky blackness. Seated astride this mechanical masterpiece is a man who embodies a paradox of rugged elegance. He possesses a commanding yet lean figure, an epitome of grace and strength that defies the bounds of convention. Draped in a formidable, protective black jacket, his attire is sending your brain into a frenzy. Fitting black jeans encase his legs, while black gloves envelope his hands with a subtle promise of concealed purpose. Each step echoing an aura of intrigue, he dons a pair of black Doc Marten boots, their resolute presence amplifying his enigmatic appeal. Atop the mysterious man’s figure sits a gloss-black helmet, its contours hinting at the mysteries that lie beneath.

With deliberate grace, he lifts the helmet from his head, revealing a crown of luxurious, dark purple locks. Your astonishment lingers in the air, and you can't help but be drawn to the allure of this captivating stranger. To call your fascination mere curiosity would be a gross understatement. Each of his features appears meticulously crafted, from his silver-clad ears adorned with earrings, to a proud and tall nose, and his eyes—those big beguiling orbs that seem to harbor a pool of secrets within. It's a visage that commands attention, the embodiment of an elusive charm that ignites your every sense. In a moment of serendipity, your eyes meet, the spark of connection bridging the gap between strangers. He saunters toward the store adjacent to the bar, a fleeting look of mischief dancing in his eyes. A playful wink and an enigmatic smile are cast in your direction, a wordless invitation that beckons with a magnetic pull. He dismounts from his motorcycle with an elegance that mirrors the grace of a dancer, setting the helmet upon the seat . As he disappears into the depths of the store, the intoxicating combination of your inebriation and the fragile state of your emotions conspire to form a whimsical yet irresistible decision. It's a gravitational force that leaves you with no choice but to step into the store and follow the purple-haired enigma, your heart beating in time with the uncharted journey that awaits.

As the convenience store door chimes melodically with your entry, a tingle of excitement courses through the air. The purple-haired enigma, the pull of destiny that brought you here, stands before you, a magnetic presence that seems to command every aisle. His striking figure exudes an aura that is both electrifying and tantalizing, and you can't help but gravitate toward him. With fluid grace, he reaches into the fridge to retrieve a drink, his movements a mesmerizing dance of confidence. You approach, and behind the cool, glass refrigerator door, your eyes lock in a seductive connection. He acknowledges your presence with a sultry smile that ignites the room. With an air of unshakable self-assuredness, you compliment his sleek motorcycle, your words laced with a smoldering charm. His response is a flirtatious grin, and as he rises to his full, towering height, he gazes down upon you, a titillating hint of promise in his eyes. "Thanks, ever been on a bike before, pretty girl?" he inquires, the huskiness of his voice sending electric shivers down your spine. Butterflies flutter wildly in your stomach as his words hang in the air. You return the provocative banter, testing the waters of this intriguing encounter. “Is this an invitation mr……?.”

“Heeseung. Lee Heeseung.” He introduces himself with a name that rolls off his tongue like a forbidden secret—Lee Heeseung. His playful response drips with allure, and you find yourself ensnared in the the moment. "And maybe it is an invitation… if you're willing to accept, Miss …..”? Your own name tastes sweeter than ever on your lips as you tease him with a hint of coyness, “Yn. Y/ln Yn. And why should I Lee?” Heeseung's perceptive eyes dart to the mascara-stained traces of tears on your face, his gaze tracing the invisible scars etched upon your soul. He tenderly points to your head, his words laden with a quiet understanding. "Judging by the mascara-stained tears on your face, I think a ride would fix whatever troubled that pretty little head of yours." A shy smile dances upon your lips, your heart pounding with a mixture of vulnerability and courage. "Got an extra helmet, then?" You say as acceptance to his offer. Heeseung's smirk deepens, his voice dripping with a seductive promise. "Good girl. Of course I do. You never know who needs a good ride." The air crackles with the electrifying energy of an adventure about to unfurl, as you and Lee Heeseung step into the thrilling unknown, united by the allure of the night.

In one hand, he clutches a tall, foreboding can of Monster energy drink, its vibrant, neon label a stark contrast to the other hand, which cradles a diminutive yellow box adorned with the endearing label "banana milk." The curious combination of his selections hints at the multifaceted personality of the man who has now become your enigmatic companion. With the transaction complete, the two of you emerge from the convenience store, and Heeseung extends a seemingly casual but unmistakably thoughtful gesture—offering you the little yellow box of banana milk. You accept it with a raised eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. "How'd you know I liked this, Lee?" you inquire, your voice touched by intrigue. A mischievous smile graces Heeseung's lips as he leans in a bit closer, and his response dances on the edges of flirtation, causing the butterflies in your stomach to stir with newfound hunger. "Pretty girls, like you, like banana milk," he teases, his words delivered with an artful charm that sends a shiver of excitement coursing through you. Grateful for his gesture, you return the enchanting smile, the air thick with an electrifying tension. As you both make your way toward the magnificent motorcycle that had initially captivated your attention, anticipation courses through your veins, setting your body aglow with excitement. You stand behind Heeseung, observing his every move with eager eyes. With practiced ease, he opens a concealed compartment at the back of the bike, revealing a second helmet that bears a striking silver star on either side. It's a unique touch that adds to the enigma of the man before you. Heeseung places your drinks within the compartment, where the second helmet once resided. With a smooth and assured motion, he secures the compartment and then offers you your designated helmet, a symbol of the adventure you're about to embark on together. As you accept the helmet from his hand, the magnetic connection between you deepens, and the night unfolds with the promise of thrilling secrets yet to be unveiled.

With the banana milk safely stowed and the helmet now snug upon your head, the night holds an air of mystery and excitement as you both approach the waiting motorcycle. Heeseung's slender frame moves with grace as he swings a leg over the sleek, white machine. He turns toward you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends an electric pulse through your veins. "Make sure you hold on, doll," he says, his voice dipped in a heady blend of charm and raw anticipation. His words are laced with a promise of thrilling adventure, and your heart skips a beat as you grasp the significance of this moment. You eagerly position yourself behind him, forgetting all about your ex boyfriend and the events that took place before. your arms wrapping around his lean waist, fingers instinctively clutching the fabric of his black jacket. The powerful engine roars to life beneath you, its growl a primal invitation to the night. Heeseung's gloved hands deftly manipulate the handlebars, and in an exhilarating surge of acceleration, you both glide out of the convenience store's parking lot and onto the main road. The world becomes a mesmerizing blur of vibrant colors and lights as the motorcycle snakes through the city's labyrinthine streets, framed by beautifully illuminated buildings that reach skyward, a testament to humanity's creativity. The cool night air rushes over you, and the city's pulsating energy envelopes you, offering an intoxicating taste of freedom and escape. As the wind whips through your hair, and the city's mesmerizing lights create a captivating painting, you can't help but feel that you've stepped into a dream. With every twist and turn, Heeseung's driving skill reveals itself, and you're reminded of the harmony between man and machine. In this exhilarating dance through the heart of the city, you're not just a passenger; you're a partner in a thrilling adventure, bound by the allure of the night and the enigmatic man who now shares it with you.

As the motorcycle effortlessly weaves through the city's enchanting streets, Heeseung's lean frame seems to meld with the machine, and you can sense his exhilaration in the subtle movements and graceful leans. Every curve and twist of the road is navigated with a fluidity that suggests an intimate understanding between rider and ride. The city's lights create a dazzling panorama around you, and you revel in the symphony of sensations that surrounds you. After what feels like an eternity of blissful exploration, the first hints of daylight begin to break on the horizon, casting a soft, golden glow upon the cityscape. It's a bittersweet reminder that this enchanting ride must eventually come to an end. With a quiet understanding, Heeseung steers the motorcycle to a stop in front of your home, and the engine's growl reluctantly gives way to the stillness of the early morning. As you dismount the bike, you can't help but feel a mixture of gratitude and a hint of longing for the adventure that has brought you closer. Heeseung turns toward you, his eyes holding a sparkle that mirrors the city's lights. "I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did, pretty girl,” he says, his voice a blend of sincerity and allure. "I did enjoy it, lee.” Your eyes lock onto his, and you can't resist a teasing smile. "I have to admit, I'm not sure if it was the city or the company that made it so enjoyable." He chuckles softly, his gaze lingering on you. "Perhaps it's a bit of both. I hope I made you forget what you were crying about earlier.”

With an air of anticipation, Heeseung closes the enchanting gap between you, his footsteps a playful dance that mirrors the rhythm of your heart. You find yourself drawn closer to him, a mix of curiosity and desire, hoping for a kiss that promises to be electric. But Heeseung, ever the tease, surprises you by gently capturing your hand in his gloved grasp. His lips brush against your knuckles, leaving behind a soft and lingering kiss that sends a thrill down your spine. A mischievous sparkle dances in his eyes as he takes a step back, though his hold on your hand remains. A mischievous smirk plays upon his lips as he takes a step back, and your hands, still intertwined, reluctantly part as the space between you expands. but the connection between your souls remains undeniably strong. Heeseung places your helmet back into the motorcycle's compartment, his every motion a graceful symphony of closure, yet the moment is still heavy with the sweet ache of parting. He retrieves the little yellow box of banana milk, and with a look that speaks of unspoken promises and possibilities, he adds to the enchanting ambiance. As you turn away to make your way inside, your heart swells with emotions, and it's then you hear his voice, soft and filled with affectionate playfulness, "Heads up, princess!" Your head snaps around, your eyes locking onto Heeseung seated on the motorcycle, revving the engine with a fervor that mirrors the passion between you. With a flourish, he tosses the banana milk to you, and you catch it . Your heart flutters like a love-struck bird, and you're left standing there, watching the back of his retreating figure with eyes filled with longing. As the cold morning air surrounds you, you're reminded of the warmth and excitement that has filled this magical night. With a heart full of happiness, you finally turn to head inside.

In the cozy sanctuary of your home, you close the door behind you with a gentle sigh, leaning against it as you bask in the afterglow of this night. The memories of what transpired outside are like a symphony of emotions playing in your heart, each note resonating with the tender and profound love that has blossomed between you and Heeseung. The room envelops you in its intimate embrace, illuminated by the soft, warm glow of the night. As you lean against the door, the walls seem to hold the echoes of the moments shared, and you're overcome by a sense of profound romance that fills the very air you breathe. The night was a love story written in the stars, a story of two souls drawn together by destiny and fueled by a love that's destined to endure. Despite breaking every single rule of stranger danger, you wish this night couldve lasted forever.

As you ascend the stairs to your room, a sense of contentment and longing accompanies you. The banana milk, a sweet reminder of an unforgettable night, finds its place on your bedside table, a silent guardian of your dreams. The room envelops you in its cozy warmth, the atmosphere carrying the residual fragrance of romance and adventure. In the dim light, you prepare for a soothing shower, letting the cascading water wash away the remnants of the night. Your thoughts, however, remain tethered to the enigmatic Lee Heeseung. Questions and desires swirl within your mind, like a gentle storm of emotions.

After the warmth of the shower, you don your pajamas from the night before, their familiarity a source of comfort as you slip between the soft sheets of your bed. Your body, tired but satiated, yearns for rest, yet your heart and mind remain restless, still inextricably tangled in the enchantment of the night. Thoughts of him, like whispers in the night, dance through your mind. "When will I see him again?" and "I wish we had exchanged information" echo in the chambers of your thoughts. Who is this mysterious man, Lee Heeseung, who has touched your heart so deeply? The unanswered questions propel you to flip open your phone, your curiosity overriding the myriad missed calls and texts from your unfaithful ex-boyfriend. Instagram becomes your portal to seek out the enigma named Lee Heeseung.

A sense of disappointment settles over you as your search on various social media platforms yields nothing. Lee Heeseung remains a ghost, elusive and untraceable in the digital realm. It's as if he exists only in the echoes of your memories, and the absence of any digital footprint only adds to his mystique. In your moment of quiet contemplation, a yearning for his presence intensifies. The desire to see him again, to unravel the enigma that is Lee Heeseung, becomes an undeniable ache within you. The thought that he knows where you live, and the lingering memories of your night together, offer a glimmer of hope that he might return. The idea that fate might bring you two together once more fills your heart with anticipation and longing. As you close your eyes and surrender to the night's embrace, you can't help but wonder when the stars will align, and the mysterious Lee Heeseung will reappear in your life.

As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, the longing in your heart grew stronger. Spring had arrived, heralding the return of life and the vibrant colors of the world, yet it also marked the lingering absence of Heeseung, the man who had swept into your life as quickly as a shooting star and vanished just as abruptly. Every motorcycle that whizzed past you on the bustling streets of your city drew your attention like a magnet. A spark of curiosity ignited within you, and the questions were ceaseless. "Was that him? Does he still think of me?" These thoughts had woven themselves into the very fabric of your existence, haunting your every moment. The memories of that unforgettable night had become a bittersweet symphony that played on a loop in your mind.

Despite the love and support of your incredible friends, your loving family, and a fulfilling job, the void Heeseung had left in your life persisted. The allure of "what could've been" weighed heavy on your heart, like a melody left unfinished, a dance cut short, or a love story left untold. In the midst of your everyday life, the longing for the man named Lee Heeseung never waned. Your heart carried the echoes of his touch, the memory of his gaze, and the whispers of a love story that had never fully unfurled. With every passing day, your desire for his return only intensified, like a fire that refused to be extinguished.

It was a typical Tuesday, just like any other weekday, as you made your way into the bustling work building, greeted by the friendly faces of your coworkers who had also become your cherished friends. Jake, ever the playful one, couldn't resist bringing up the topic of your elusive Heeseung. "How are you, YN? Still no luck with this Heeseung guy?" he inquired with a mischievous glint in his eye. You let out a dramatic sigh, a playful air of exasperation in your response. "Unfortunately, no, Jake. Trust me, I would've told you if I had any news," you said with a chuckle. Jay, another dear friend of yours, joined the conversation, bringing with him a delightful surprise in the form of coffee for both you and Jake. With a comforting smile, he chimed in, "Don't worry, Ynnie, maybe he lives in a different town and was just there that night for you!" You couldn't help but offer an appreciative grin in response to Jay's attempt at comfort. His words were like a warm embrace, reassuring you in your quest for answers. Then, a new proposal surfaced, and it was Jay who initiated it. "Oh, by the way, Jake and I found out that there's been underground racing events in our city. We've been meaning to check it out. Wanna come with?" At first, you hesitated, but Jay's persuasive nature quickly took hold. "C'mon, YN!" Jake chimed in, adding his own brand of playfulness. "It'll be fun! Who knows, maybe you'll find Heeseung there! … or a different cute motorcycle guy at least." You let out a laugh that admitted defeat. "Okay, okay, I'll check it out with you guys. But if it's boring, you're buying me a burger." Jay quickly agreed to the wager. "Fine. Deal. But it won't be boring!" he declared with unwavering enthusiasm. "Mhm, we'll see," you replied with a sly grin, anticipating the playful adventures that lay ahead with your close friends, all while hoping that amidst the thrills of underground racing, you might find the one you longed for – or perhaps, something equally captivating.

As the workday drew to a close, you bid your colleagues and friends farewell, exchanging a series of cheerful goodbyes and promises to reconvene tomorrow. Last in line to receive your parting words were your friends, and it was Jake who left you with a playful reminder. "We'll pick you up at 10, ynnie~,” he declared with a mischievous glint in his eye. Your response was a melodious giggle as you affectionately ruffled his hair, a signal of your confirmation.

Once home, the weight of the day's responsibilities dissipated like a passing storm. Shoes were unceremoniously discarded, your bag and jacket flung haphazardly onto the floor, and with a contented sigh, you sank into the inviting embrace of your couch. Retrieving your phone, you embarked on a determined quest to research the underground racing scene, the glimmer of hope in your chest steadily growing brighter with every tap of your fingers.

The prospect of possibly encountering Heeseung again ignited a certain spark in your eyes, a fire of desire that refused to be extinguished. Yet, much like the elusive enigma of the man himself, your online investigation yielded no information about these races. It was as though the world had conspired to keep their existence hidden, a fitting scenario for events that were undoubtedly illegal. As you set your phone aside, your thoughts began to spiral in a torrent of what-ifs. What if Heeseung is there, but his interest had always been elsewhere? What if he's not present? What if he doesn't even notice you? These unceasing questions threatened to consume your mind, and you shook your head, as if such an act could dispel these relentless thoughts. Determined to quell the storm of uncertainties that raged within you, you took a deep breath and resolved to face the night with unwavering optimism.

With the plan in place, you had agreed that the guys would hang out at your place before the big race. Jake and Jay, after their workday, rushed home, got dressed for the evening, and then made their way to your doorstep around 7:30. You swung open the door in your comfy pajamas, greeting the duo with warm hugs and bright smiles. "Alright, guys," you chimed in, "I'm going to get ready now. You said we're leaving at 10, right?" They both confirmed your question with a nod, and you headed upstairs to prepare for the night ahead. As you left the living room, the two friends made themselves at home, lounging comfortably on your couch and taking charge of the TV. The anticipation for the evening ahead filled the air, and the sense of camaraderie between the three of you was a reassuring presence, setting the tone for the exciting adventure that lay just around the corner.

Upstairs in your room, you embarked on the grand battle that is getting ready for a night out. The soft glow of your vanity mirror cast a warm light on your determined face as you transformed your appearance for the evening. Your makeup was an elegant fusion of dark and bold, with a smoky eyeliner that accentuated your eyes and a luscious dark red lip gloss that heightened the allure of your lips. The result was a striking look that suited your features beautifully. You took a few moments to curl the ends of your hair, creating soft, cascading waves that reached down to your lower back. These curls were swept up into a high, sleek ponytail, with two delicate strands left loose to elegantly frame your face. Your outfit had been meticulously selected, not only with Heeseung in mind but also with the exciting prospect of possibly meeting someone new at this enigmatic race. Dark red leather pants, designed to hug your curves in all the right ways, were paired with a lace black tank top, adding a touch of sensuality to your ensemble. To complete the look, you adorned yourself with a black and white leather jacket that draped over your shoulders like whipped cream on a tantalizing sundae. In your full-length mirror, you admired the reflection of a confident and captivating woman, well aware of her own allure. A pair of sleek black boots adorned your feet, and you accessorized with a silver necklace featuring a delicate pendant and matching earrings, adding a touch of sophistication to your ensemble. To crown your transformation, you picked up your favorite perfume bottle, and with each spritz, a beautiful aroma enveloped you like a fragrant embrace. The battle of getting ready was won, and you felt like a queen in your own right. With a final glance in the mirror, you knew you looked stunning and were ready to face whatever the night had in store. With your purse in hand, you headed downstairs, prepared to join your friends who were patiently waiting for you.

"DAMN YN!" Jay and Jake exclaimed in unison as you descended the stairs, the sight of your stunning transformation leaving them momentarily breathless. A beaming smile graced your lips as their admiration washed over you. "Thank you, boys," you replied with a gracious nod, giving them a playful twirl to showcase your meticulously chosen outfit. "Do I look good?" you asked, a hint of playful teasing in your voice. "You know you do," Jay responded with a smile, but he was eager to get going. "Now, let's get moving! It's nearly 10:15." You waved off his concern with a nonchalant chuckle. "Oh, please, there's no way these things start right on time. We're fine. Now, let's make a quick stop at the convenience store so I can get a banana milk, pretty please~" you added with a hint of irresistible charm. The two boys, who had been lounging on the couch, rose from their seats with mock exasperation. Jake couldn't help but mutter a resigned, "Yes, ma'am…" as you playfully led the way, heading into the car where you sat in the backseat.

With a refreshing banana milk tucked safely in your purse, courtesy of Jake's wallet, the three of you arrived at the underground racing event. The venue was located beneath a highway bridge in an area you never even knew existed. you were struck by the sheer scale of the place, surrounded by towering structures that seemed to stretch to the heavens. This perspective, seeing the world from a unique angle, made you feel small in the grand scheme of things, a humbling realization that added to the aura of the night. Lost in your contemplation, you were momentarily unaware that Jay and Jake had already exited the car, with Jake gallantly holding the door open for you. He playfully addressed you, "Here we are, princess," and you responded with a light, affectionate hit on his arm, chuckling, "Oh, cut it out, Jaeyun." A playful exchange of names ensued between the two friends as you headed toward the gathering crowd at the starting line, eagerly awaiting the start of the race. You surveyed the bikers as they lined up in their positions, and your attention was drawn to a particular rider who was surrounded by a group of enthusiastic women. The throng of admirers made it difficult to see his face clearly, but you couldn't help but wonder if it might be Heeseung.

The announcer's voice crackled over the radio, calling on the racers to mount their bikes and prepare for the thrilling competition. Jay and Jake signaled that it was time to find your seats, with Jake instinctively taking your hand to guide you and ensure you didn't get lost in the bustling crowd. As you were led to the front row, you couldn't help but scan the racers one last time. The colorful array of bikes and their determined riders filled the scene with an air of excitement. But then, at the far end, you spotted a white bike, and your heart skipped a beat. Could it be Heeseung's bike? The memories of him came rushing back, and you pointed it out to your friends. "Wait, guys, that might be Heeseung's bike," you mentioned, your voice tinged with both hope and anxiety. Jake and Jay exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern. "You think so, YN?" Jay asked, offering a glimmer of doubt. "Maybe it's just a guy with the same motorcycle color as Heeseung, Ynnie. I mean, white bikes aren't that uncommon, right?" Jake reasoned, trying to provide a rational explanation. You shook your head, a familiar gesture you used to clear your thoughts. "Yeah, Jakey, you're probably right. I mean, I haven't seen him in months. It can't be him," you replied, trying to convince yourself as much as your friends. You felt a surge of anxiety but decided to push those thoughts aside and focus on enjoying the race. With the comforting presence of your banana milk, you took a sip and leaned back, hoping that this night would be an adventure to remember, regardless of the outcome.

As the man on the radio commenced announcing the racers' names, an air of anticipation enveloped the crowd. With each name called out, a symphony of revving engines filled the air, punctuated by cheers and applause from the spectators. The excitement was palpable, and you joined in, clapping and cheering for each racer. However, as the announcer neared the end of the line of racers and you waited with bated breath, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. The name you had been hoping to hear, "LEE HEESEUNG," didn't make an appearance. Instead, the announcer declared, "And last but not least, our reigning champion, ACE!" A sigh of regret escaped your lips, revealing your unspoken hope. You observed that the crowd cheered enthusiastically for this "Ace" character, understanding why he had garnered a legion of female admirers. The sense of anticipation still coursed through your veins, but you decided to put aside your initial disappointment and immerse yourself in the exhilarating atmosphere of the race, hopeful that the night would hold some surprises, even if Heeseung's name was absent from the list of competitors.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, Jake directed a question to both you and Jay, inquiring, "Who are you guys rooting for?" Jay was quick to respond, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "I'm rooting for the guy named Jungwon on that bright blue bike. He seems like an underdog, you know?" Jake couldn't resist poking fun at Jay's choice. "So cheesy," he remarked, provoking Jay to playfully flip him off. Turning to you, Jake's curiosity was evident in his expression as he asked, "What about you, YN?" You pondered for a moment, a mischievous glint in your eye as you gave your answer. "Hmm, maybe that Sunghoon guy, on the black bike. He seems hot," you added, punctuating your response with a giggle. Jay shook his head in mock exasperation, but he couldn't hide a smile. "I'm not even surprised." As the three of you continued to chat and enjoy the electric atmosphere, the announcer's voice broke through, "RACERS, START YOUR ENGINES!" The crowd erupted into cheers, blending with the powerful roar of the motorcycles.

"READY…SET…GO!" The announcer's command was met with a symphony of revving engines, and in an instant, the racers sped off on the manmade track, weaving between the imposing pillars of the bridge above. The sound of the engines and the fervent cheers from the crowd captivated you, and your gaze remained fixed on the racers as they disappeared into the distance, the race now in full swing.

The race unfolded with an intoxicating blend of speed, skill, and sheer adrenaline. The racers zipped around the tight corners and weaved through the narrow gaps between the bridge's pillars, their powerful machines roaring like wild beasts. The air was filled with the intoxicating scent of gasoline and burnt rubber, adding to the sensory overload that engulfed the crowd. The race was paired with commentary by the announcer, “In the lead is ace! Are we surprised? That white bike is a godsend!”

As the racers maneuvered with lightning precision, the crowd couldn't help but be entranced by the sheer spectacle before them. Spectators cheered as their chosen favorites powered through the track, and collective gasps echoed through the audience whenever a close call or a daring move occurred. The atmosphere was electric, charged with the shared excitement of everyone in attendance. Another comment was made by the announcer, “Woah! Look at jungwon pulling through and passing ace on his left! Will this be the first race he wins?”

“I told you guys. Always root for the underdog,” Jay chimes, but your eyes are glued to sunghoon and his black bike.

Amidst the collective fervor, you found yourself mesmerized, your eyes locked onto the racers as they sped past. The world outside the race ceased to exist for those moments, and you were drawn into the raw energy of the event, feeling the vibrations of the engines in your chest and the rush of the wind in your hair. “Here come’s sunghoon! Passing jungwon on his right, and making his way towards the finish line!” Says the announcer.

The announcer's voice crackled through the speakers, adding to the electrifying atmosphere. "WOAH, WOAH!! HERE COMES ACE RIGHT BEHIND SUNGHOON! WHO WILL WIN? THE TWO ARE SIDE BY SIDE, WILL IT BE A TIE? THE FINISH LINE IS RIGHT THERE, AND… ALMOST A PHOTO FINISH! BUT THE WINNER OF THE RACE IS SUNGHOON!"

As the crowd erupted in joyous celebration, the cheers of the spectators seemed to reverberate in perfect harmony with the racing engines. You were swept up in the excitement, joining the chorus of voices, and even rising to your feet as you cheered for Sunghoon, the victor of the race. The thrill of witnessing such a close contest was invigorating, and you couldn't help but be caught up in the jubilation around you. With a playful tone and a hint of what-ifs, you turned to your two friends and exclaimed, "Damn, we should've bet on it. Missed opportunity!" The boys laughed along with you, the infectious joy of the moment drawing them into the celebration. Together, you stood and cheered for Sunghoon, basking in the shared experience of witnessing an extraordinary race and its exhilarating conclusion.

The exhilarating atmosphere of the race drew you, Jay, and Jake, along with the rest of the crowd, to approach the racers as they dismounted their bikes. The audience showered the racers with an array of cheers and encouraging words, from "good job!" to "you'll win next time!" to admiring comments about their impressive machines. As you and your friends navigated your way through the dispersing crowd, you found yourselves face to face with Jungwon, the racer who had been your friend Jay's underdog favorite. Eager to express your admiration, you initiated the conversation, addressing him with warmth, "Hey, Jungwon, right? You were so cool! I thought you were gonna win for a second there!" Jungwon's face lit up with gratitude, and he replied with a sincere smile, "Thank you so much! I thought so too, but I had nooo chance against Ace and Sunghoon." Jay, ever the enthusiast, extended a firm handshake in that classic man-to-man fashion. "Bro! I was rooting for you from the start. You'll see me at the next race," he proclaimed with enthusiasm, earning a "thank you" from Jungwon. With that, the three of you moved on to the next racer, Sunghoon, eager to share your appreciation with the winner.

Sunghoon leaned casually on his sleek black bike, a striking figure with an air of confidence that immediately caught your attention. Up close, you couldn't deny how incredibly handsome he looked, and you were taken aback by his allure. Summoning your courage, you approached the winner, introducing yourself in a soft, friendly tone, "Hi Sunghoon, I'm YN. Congrats on the win, handsome." The compliment had its intended effect, and Sunghoon's eyes focused on you. "Well, hello, Miss YN. Nice to meet you," Sunghoon responded with a smirk, revealing a sharp canine tooth and a dimple that sent a shiver down your spine. You felt yourself blushing in response to his charm. Sunghoon's flirtatious banter continued as he inquired, "You were rooting for me, pretty girl?" He leaned in a little closer, his voice dripping with playful seduction. You met his flirtatious challenge with a sly smile. "Maybe… maybe not," you replied, adding a teasing playfulness to your tone. He feigned disappointment, a twinkle in his eye as he teased, "What a shame, I was gonna offer you a ride." Playing along, you flirtatiously touched his arm, your confidence growing with every word. "Oh, come on, Hoonie, of course I was rooting for you," you confessed with a playful eye roll, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. Sunghoon rewarded your playful admission by tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and for that moment, the world seemed to narrow down to the two of you, engaged in a playful dance of flirtation amidst the post-race excitement. The nickname you garnered for him was definitely working in your favor.

You were so deeply engrossed in your conversation with Sunghoon that you remained oblivious to the intense gaze fixed upon you from the second-place racer, Ace. He watched you with something akin to jealousy, uncertain whether he should approach. Leaving you and Sunghoon in your own world, Jay and Jake made their way over to Ace to offer their congratulations. Jake, always one for humor, attempted to lighten the mood with a lighthearted comment. "Hey, man! You were so cool out there. Second place is still good. Don't be discouraged. I'm sure all these girls still want you," he quipped, though he hadn't realized that Ace's attention was on him. Ace's initial jealousy quickly transformed into a friendly demeanor as he responded, "Yo, thanks for that, haha. Almost won, but I'll win the next one for sure." Jay chimed in with an encouraging pat on Ace's shoulder before the two of them began to walk away. However, Ace couldn’t keep it to himself. He called out to Jay and Jake, nodding in your direction while still engaged in conversation with Sunghoon. "Hey, do you know that girl?" he inquired, his interest piqued. Jay answered without hesitation, a friendly tone in his voice as he looked back toward Ace. "Yeah, that’s yn! We're friends. She came here with us," he explained, his focus now shifting as he moved away from the racer, joining Jake in heading back in your direction, leaving Ace with his thoughts as you continued your conversation with Sunghoon.

As the evening wound down and Jay and Jake were ready to head home, you and Sunghoon decided to exchange numbers, creating a playful connection. Sunghoon, with a charming wink, remarked, "Call me when you wanna ride, beautiful." Your response was just as flirty, "I'll call you when I want to, Hoonie," and you playfully blew him a kiss. As you began to walk away, ready to rejoin your friends in the car, Sunghoon made his way over to Ace, eager to share his little victory. "Bro, I just got the hottest girl's number, and—" Sunghoon began, but before he could finish, Ace roared away on his bike, his jealousy simmering beneath the surface. With your two friends already in the car, you confidently made your way toward them, your spirits high. For that moment, Heeseung had slipped from your thoughts, and the excitement of connecting with Sunghoon filled your mind. However, just as you were about ten feet away from Jay's car, a white motorcycle suddenly cut in front of you, blocking your path to your friends. Startled, you took a step back, your heart racing, and realized that the rider was one of the racers. You cautiously addressed him, "Oh, Jesus Christ, you scared me. Ace, right?" His helmet obscured his face as he nodded, and he proceeded to take it off, revealing his identity.

Your heart sank as the white helmet came off, revealing the vibrant purple hair that had grown longer since you last saw him. The shock washed over you like a tidal wave, and your eyes scanned his familiar face, unable to believe that he was standing there before you, just as he had been months ago. His eyes, large and twinkling, bore into yours, the same way they had done when you first met. "H-Heeseung?" was all you could manage to stammer. The excitement you had felt only moments ago had evaporated, replaced by a rush of tears welling up in your eyes. Every emotion you had held back for months now poured out, glistening like rivers of glittering light. The overwhelming flood of feelings left you lost and unsure of how to proceed. Heeseung spoke, his voice breaking the silence, "Yn, I missed you pretty girl.” But you couldn't handle it. The anger and sadness mixed inside you, driving you to act on impulse. "I can't do this right now, Heeseung. I-I gotta go," you uttered, your voice quivering with raw emotion. You turned and ran towards Jay's car, where the two boys had witnessed the entire interaction. Climbing into the vehicle, you were met with a barrage of concerning questions from your friends. "I'll answer once you start driving. Please. Please start driving," you implored. Jay promptly obeyed your request and sped out of the lot, the car now on the road, the boys eager to ask their questions.

Jake spoke up first, his voice tinged with disbelief, "Yn, who was that?" "Heeseung…" you replied, your voice quivering. "Oh my god, what?!" Jake exclaimed. "Heeseung? Like in, Heeseung Heeseung?" Jay asked, his surprise mirroring Jake's. "Yes, Jay. Heeseung Heeseung. Oh my god, what was he doing there?" you lamented, your words spilling out in a mixture of confusion and emotion. "Wait, isn't this what you wanted, Yn? Why are you so upset?" Jake inquired, trying to make sense of your reaction. You paused, a heavy sigh escaping your lips before you responded, "…because… where has he been? I've spent months, nearly half a year wondering when he'd show up—waiting for him like some lost puppy. And now all of a sudden, I see him today, surrounded by a crowd of girls, only talking to me because I was hitting it off with Sunghoon? I just… I just don't know what's going on. And just now, he says he missed me? Bullshit. Absolute bullshit. He knows where I live; if he missed me so much, he would've visited. I waited months, guys. MONTHS. I just… I'm so—" Jay cut off your rambling rant, his voice filled with understanding and empathy. "Yn, my love, it's okay. Let's get you that burger." In your teary, emotional state, you couldn't help but let out a faint laugh, appreciating Jay's attempt to lighten the mood. Jake reached his hand to the backseat to comfort you, and you clung to it as he gently rubbed circles into your hand. As you sat there, feeling a whirlwind of emotions and confusion, you were grateful that your friends were by your side, offering their support and understanding in your time of need.

With the comforting presence of your friends and the burger in your stomach, you finally arrived home. Jay and Jake had offered to spend the night with you, but you assured them that you appreciated their support but wanted some time alone with your thoughts. Feeling too drained to remove your makeup and outfit, you flopped onto your couch, face-first, and screamed into a throw pillow. The weight of the day and the unexpected encounter with Heeseung left your mind in a tumultuous state. As you lay there, lost in your thoughts, exhaustion overcame you, and you drifted into an uneasy slumber. Some odd hours later, you were startled awake by a persistent knocking on your door. At first, you attempted to ignore it, hoping the person would go away, but the knocking persisted. Reluctantly, you dragged yourself up and went to inspect the door through the peephole. What you saw on the other side took your breath away: a head of purple hair, Heeseung, standing at your doorstep.

Anger surged through your body as you swung the door open, and a torrent of questions spilled from your lips, "What do you want? Why are you here? Why did it take you so long to see me?" The frustration that had been simmering inside you for months finally found its voice, and it was directed squarely at the person who could provide answers. Heeseung began to speak, attempting to explain himself, but you couldn't bear to let him finish. The words tumbled out of you, fueled by the emotions that had been building up over time. "No, Heeseung. Do you know how long I've been waiting for you? How much I wished every motorcycle that passed me on the street was you? I've been so…" The emotional dam broke, and tears cascaded down your cheeks as your voice quivered with pent-up pain and frustration. Heeseung, rather than offering words, brought you into a gentle embrace, his strong arms wrapping around you, and his hand softly patting your head. His voice was a soothing whisper in your ear, "Shh, shh… I'm here now, pretty girl. I'm here. I'm sorry." His comforting presence and reassuring touch allowed you to release your bottled-up emotions. You allowed yourself to cry in his arms, feeling a mixture of anger, relief, and longing all at once. Despite your anger at him in this moment, you couldn't deny that his embrace was warm and welcoming, and it offered a sense of solace that you hadn't realized you had been yearning for.

You and heeseung were now sitting on the couch, cuddling in the darkness of your living room. You decide to break the silence, “Can we talk now, hee?” He begins to play with your hair, offering you a quiet hum in response. “Where have you been? Why haven’t you visited me?” You ask the questions that plagued your mind the most. "Yn, I'm truly sorry for disappearing like that. I had my reasons, but I understand how much it hurt you. I needed some time to sort things out in my life. It's not an excuse, but I want you to know that I've missed you every day, and I regret not being there for you. I'm here now, and I want to make it right, if you'll have me" he answers. “How do I know you’re telling the truth, heeseung? I mean, the first time I saw you today, you were surrounded by all these girls, and how do I know you won’t leave again?” You ask. "I understand your doubts, baby, and I don't blame you for being cautious. The girls today were just fans, and I was trying to keep a low profile. I promise you, I won't disappear again. I want to make it up to you and prove that I'm committed to being in your life. Actions speak louder than words, and I'm willing to show you through my actions that you can trust me." You let out a quiet sigh, “I want to trust you heeseung, I really do. But Im so scared of getting hurt again. Why did you decide to help me out that one day? The day we met? Do you do that to other girls? "I completely understand your fear, Yn. I helped you that day because you seemed like someone genuinely in need, and I felt a connection with you from the start. I don't do that for other girls; our meeting was special and unique. I can't promise you won't ever get hurt, but I can promise that I'll do my best to be there for you and be honest with you. I want to make things right between us. Seriously, my pretty girl” heeseung claims, shifting his body so you guys are face to face now.

As Yn looked into Heeseung's eyes, she saw a sincerity she hadn't seen in a long time. Her heart was still cautious, but the warmth of his embrace had melted some of the ice around it. "Let's take it one step at a time, my “love Heeseung said gently. "I won't rush you, and I'll do my best to earn your trust. We can figure this out together, princess.” Yn nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She was unsure of what the future held, but for the first time in months, she felt a glimmer of hope. As the night continued, they talked, laughed, and shared stories. Yn realized that Heeseung had changed, and maybe she had too. They both had scars, but perhaps together, they could heal. The story of Yn and Heeseung wasn't over; it was just beginning. And for the first time in a long time, they both felt like they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

“Lee Heeseung, if you disappear on me again, I swear to god. Don’t forget I still have sunghoon’s number!” You playfully hit Heeseung. “Okay, okay! Message received ma’am! Now I have a question.” You respond with a hum. “Now who was that boy holding your hand earlier? At the race? Hm?” You laugh and respond teasingly, “Baby, that’s Jake. You really don’t have to worry about him. He’s like my little puppy!”

“My love, you do realize how wrong that sounds?” Heeseung laughs.

#enhypen #enhypen angst #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enhypen x reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen ff #enhypen niki #park sunghoon #enhypen jake #heeseung x reader #heeseung #heeseung imagine #enhypennetwork #ficscafe #enhypen jay

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fazedlight · 11 months

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All my fics here are COMPLETE + HAPPY ENDINGS. (I also have many ficlets!) 💘 = I suggest you start with one of these

Season 2: * Synthesis - How Lena avoids the rift

Season 3: *💘 Darkness in All Things - Worldkiller Kara AU * Echoes of the Forest - Something odd happens in the dark valley

Season 4: *💘 No One and Nothing - Red Daughter causes an accidental reveal, shifting the events of season 4

Season 5: *💘 Even Though You're Kryptonian - Lex tries to keep Kara and Lena apart. (Some exploration of Krypton's culture, blends into season 6.) * Iridescent - Kara shows up on Lena's balcony... and she's dying. * So I Kept Pretending - Kidnapping AU * Paragon of Invention - Crisis rewrite * It's a Metallo Life - Metallo Lena follows Kara back to Earth Prime * Retribution - If Mxy had visited Lena instead of Kara * The Parallel Effect - After Lena's betrayal on Mount Norquay, something strange happens.

Season 6/Post: *💘 Inauthentic - A pink kryptonite story... but it's not what you think! * Of Songbirds and Home - What does “home” mean for someone who drifted across galaxies? A Kara character study. * The Observatory - Did kryptonians ever wish on stars?

Other: * 💘 The Medallion - Archaeologist Kara meets Lena as she searches for the Medallion of Acrata to stop her brother from killing Superman. * A Sea of Green - A canon-compliant Lena character study

#supercorp #supercorp fanfic #fazedlight #msdanvers #collection

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phasmophobia-territory · 1 year

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The Ultimate YANDERE TYPES List (part 4) | LOVE AND HATE + INTOXICATED + STALKER YANDERE

(this is PART 4 of a 4 Part Post. Click HERE to start at part 1)

Full sources and links to further reading will be below in the notes!

Remember to read the trigger warnings and content warnings. This is Yandere fiction we’re talking about, so it’s going to get messed up.

Themes + Trigger Warnings + Content Warnings:

Possessiveness, Obsessiveness, Unhealthy relationships, Religious themes, themes of sociopathy, themes of mental illness, hallucinations, delusions, hallucinations and delusions due to drugs, mentions of: physical abuse, sexual abuse, brainwashing, murder, suicide, murder-suicide, self-harm, stalking, panic attacks, cannibalism, necrophilia.

LOVE AND HATE TYPE

As the name suggests, the feelings of love the Yandere has towards the Darling usually has various degrees of hatred blended in. (note: if the Yandere does not have or never had any love the person they have the intense feelings for, I’ll call them the Object of Obsession rather than the Darling.)

SUBTYPES WITH THEIR VARIANTS

♡I Hate You but I Love You (State of Internal Conflict)

Yandere of this subtype are in a state of internal conflict where “their Love:Hate ratio is 5:5”.

♡I Love how Pitiful You Are

These Yandere love the Darling for being unhappy. They don’t find their Darling attractive when they are happy. The unhappier the Darling is, the more love the yandere feels for them.

♡Beautiful Memories

These Yanderes have a certain stage of their Darling that they loved. This stage is the Yandere’s “beautiful memory” of their Darling. However, the Darling undergoes changes (whether this change is emotional growth, aging, etc) and the Yandere is unable to tolerate the crumbling of the Darling’s “best state”. In the worst-case scenario the Darling could be killed to preserve that beautiful memory.

♡Obsession Born From Hatred

This is one of the rare Yandere, where they hold no love for the Object of Obsession, but obsession exists. This obsession is born from intense hatred would make the Yandere unable to tolerate others taking the target of their obsessive hatred from them. In the case where the Yandere’s ultimate aim is to kill the Object of Obsession, they will be furious if the target commits suicide or is murdered by someone else. (note: tbh I personally don’t consider this one a yandere)

♡I Once Loved You but I Am Vengeful

This Yandere once loved their Darling deeply, but after experiencing a betrayal or something similar, they develop a hatred just as intense as the love they once held.

♡Shadow of Love Found in Hatred

This Yandere does not love the Object of Obsession. The Yandere loves a parent or close ancestor of theirs (that are usually of the same sex). It is more accurate to say the Yandere is fixated on the shadow of their Darling that they see in the Object of Obsession. Hatred gets involved in cases when the Object of Obsession is a child born between the Darling and the Yandere’s love rival, or when the Object of Obsession is the Yandere's, but the Darling has died after giving birth. The resemblance in the Object of Obsession to their Darling is what agonises them.

♡Pursuit of Perfection

This Yandere is unable to love the Darling because of one thing about them, but everything else about them is perfect so the Yandere is unable to hate them. This Yandere is fixated on fixing the bad thing about the Darling.

INTOXICATED TYPE

These Yandere simply have their heads in the clouds while in love. However, because they don’t have a clear purpose like the Possessive type, something seems a bit more obviously off in them compared to others.

SUBTYPES WITH THEIR VARIANTS

♡Self-Sacrificing (Doesn’t Wish to Shackle)

Actionist: Yandere of this variant continuously does acts of self-sacrifice much like an attendant to the Darling, only wishing to devote themselves to the person they love. How aggressive they are to others depends on their personality, but more often than not protecting the Darling is included in their acts of devotion and will kill if necessary.

“Gon the Fox”: Yandere of this type perform acts of devotion much like the Self-Sacrificing Actionist above, but secretly, behind the scenes.

♡Rabid Fan

This Yandere is imagined to be simple-minded and love the Darling so much they’ll do anything. However, they do not see the Darling as a god. They are a “fan” and don’t feel guilty for loving the Darling.

♡Deification and Austerity

While this variant is similar to the Faults Viewed Favourably (Intoxicated) variant of the Delusional type, where they worship their Darling as a god and agree with everything they do or say. However, they see their Dalring as a love interest and not just someone to worship as a god. They tend to punish themselves for falling in love with their “god” and continue to be internally conflicted by their overflowing love for the love interest and self-loathing.

♡Fantasizing

“Princess” Love Interest: They believe the Darling is their fated princess and have a fantasy-prone mind. They completely believe that true love will prevail above all obstacles and that love will never waver.

Self-Proclaimed Prince: This Yandere views themselves as a Prince who waits to confirm the Darling’s love rather than acting out their idea of true love like the “Princess” Love Interest variant does. This Yandere assumes that the Darling reciprocates their feelings, so they become furious if the Darling does anything out of their expectations.

♡Masochist

The Yandere in this case is so intoxicated in love that any aggressiveness from the Darling is met with joy. That is how Masochist is defined here. They do not simply seek pain, but they seek to feel the love from the pain inflicted upon them by the Darling.

♡Love is Blind

Nervous: Yandere of this variant are unable to display their skills as normal when the Darling is around due to either extreme nervousness or excitedness. They are able to display their skills as normal around others, so it is love that throws them into disarray.

Forthright: It is only when around the Darling that this Yandere throws away any sense of embarrassment or self-consciousness. They don’t care about what others think of them so don’t hesitate in doing anything at all. These Yandere are often positioned as comedic relief character.

♡Mixing in Body Fluids

If the Yandere wants the love interest to take in their bodily fluid as an act of offering instead of a sexual fetish, then they fall under this subtype.

♡Directly Linked to Life and Death

The love interest’s existence the yandere’s meaning of life. The yandere is completely dependent on the Darling and if they disappear, the Yandere will choose death.

♡Fetishism

This Yandere devotes their love not to the Darling but to certain parts of them such as their legs or hair. They technically do not love the love interest, so it’s not clear if they can be considered a yandere.

S T A L K E R

Simply described as “the almighty yandere that’s a bit of everything”.

Sources:

This does not belong to me. I only gave a summary of what I read. ORIGINAL SOURCE LINKED HERE.

This information is from an English translation of material from an upcoming game called Yandere Town. UNTRANSLATED, ORIGINAL JAPANESE SOURCE LINKED HERE.

(Original translators, I have no problem with taking this down if you don't want me reposting your translation to my blog! ^_^)

♡If you want to see more content like this check out the Writing and Yandere Masterlist and if you want to learn about this blog check out all things sketchprincess02!♡

♡Please consider REBLOGGING and COMMENTING if this helps you!♡

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campgender · 1 month

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“Stone Butch, Drag Butch, Baby Butch” by Joan Nestle

published in A Restricted Country (1987)

New words swirl around us

and still I see you in the street

loafers, chinos, shades.

You dare to look too long

and I are turn your gaze,

feel the pull of old worlds

and then like a femme

drop my eyes.

But behind my broken look

you live

and walk deeper into me

as the distance grows between us.

Shame is the first betrayer.

The birth of Lesbian feminism. New York. The old firehouse on Wooster Street. Wooden chairs pulled across the cobbled floor. Pretty young women form a circle to form a group called the Lesbian Liberation Committee. Two old-time Lesbians arrive, grey-haired, short DAs. They stand on the outskirts. I go to the bathroom on the floor below. Two of the young women stand in front of me. “Why do they have to look like men? I hope they don’t come back.” When I returned upstairs, the grey-haired women were gone. They never returned. Jean and Ginny told the world who we were and what we wanted. Books were written saying the bad old days were over. The national organizations started, the presses and newspapers began, and the grey-haired women receded further and further, as if they had blended into the walls.

Shame is the first betrayer.

Stone butch, drag butch, baby butch

the litany of the unwanted.

I see your eyes smoking

behind the self-congratulations

of the vegetarians

the Goddess worshippers

the healers.

Your magic worked in other places

in church alcoves

in diner toilets

in moving cars

pants with sharp creases

shirts cuffed

hair slicked back

riding Brooklyn subways

at five in the morning

shades worn just right

for mystery, for protection.

Rigid, you walked the gauntlet of their sneers

Hey lezzie, hey queer

and even when it was the end of the line

you kept moving.

A strange witch,

my baby butch.

Stone butch, drag butch, baby butch

leaned me back against the bathroom door

tuned for the intrusion, you sucked my breast.

Alert and wanting, we made love in a public place

because territory was limited.

You pushed my wetness out

only when cunning had won for us a place.

In a subway station toilet

I held your head between my thighs

heard the roar and thought it was

our secret rushing out.

Stone butch, drag butch, baby butch

Sandy tells me of the time

she walked in Prospect Park

with her lover on her arm.

Forgetting they were freaks,

they let the bending trees

caress their day.

The men, outraged by Sandy’s pants

and Carol’s skirt,

attacked with chains.

The women fled,

past playgrounds

past the benches made for lovers.

Sandy, smiling, says

through all the years

they never hurt me,

but we both know better.

A hot dark night on Eighth Street.

Held tight with love,

the butch yells up to a shadow on the wall

all she can see of her lady

who calls out

“I’m here baby”

and we all hear her.

A shrine for separated lovers,

the Women’s House of D.*

They tore it down

replaced it with a garden

but those voices still are there

the lasting blossoms of our surviving time.

Stone butch, drag butch, baby butch

I keep you deep within me

warning voices in a changing time.

Shame is the first betrayer.

*The Women’s House of Detention stood for many years on the corner of Eighth Street and Sixth Avenue in Greenwich Village.

#joan nestle #butch #stone butch #drag butch #baby butch #queer history #butch/femme #poetry #a restricted country #open access #image described #mac’s bookshelf #they are our stigmata #why not take me now as i am?#οἱ λίθοι κράξουσιν

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thoughtsandbones · 1 year

Text

Our fellow hidden humorous

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!MedicDoc (codename: Blue)

WARNINGS: Mention of alcohol, mental health/self harm scars, fluff, just getting the POV of our friendly neighbourhood masked menace.

(shall we speed up with the fluff? 💀💙)

Song inspo: Goodbye Yellow Brick Road - Elton John and

Word count: 5.1K

I grew up with the OG MW2 game, so there are some references to the old one, so kind of a mix of both the OG and the new timeline... (Also I'm ignoring the OG Shepherd betrayal and keeping in line the one with the new timeline..)

spelling and some grammar mistakes as I am bad at times... :/

(FYI: bold sentences... that are like this... are supposed to describe redacted data/info to the plot... ;] .. )

Please do let me know how you all are finding this fanfic! :D

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4 and PART 5

Part 6

~A 141 pub outing~

This time last week you had set foot back on this base. 7 days. It has been 7 days and you were slowly making yourself blend back into the military regime.

You feel the joy of routine that was brought with the army. Getting up early, exercise, join in on the occasional drill, practise shooting and then the rest of the day in the infirmary as the 141's in house doctor and as a liaison doctor with the Royal Medical Corps on base. The previous experience you had with the 141 had made you a valued asset again for the team.

The infirmary no longer barren but upon near completion. Semi-operational you had started to compose a list of tasks that needed to completed. Both in your head and in your black journal that had been a staple in your medical career. Tasks written down on each page, occupying each of the minutes that passed each day. 20 minute run. Surgery for 3 hours. Rotations that needed to done. Focusing on the task at hand.

It was exactly 17:05pm today. Thursday. This exact time last week you landed here at base. Your new place of rest. The next chapter of your life.

You now realise how tense you were last week. The first few days you scrunched your shoulders. Contracting the muscles in your back, on edge and rigid. No longer feeling rigid, but you remain stoic and composed.

Soap invited you out this evening to the local pub that the team frequented. You vaguely remember it. It had been a long time, and honestly you were not that much of drinker back then.

Exercise had helped ease the tension. Drills had helped you ease the looming anxiety by focusing. Sinking into the moment.

Price, Soap and even Ghost had been impressed by your eagerness to attend these drills and practise shootings.

"Shame you can't come with us on missions and patch us up there and then." Soap had said after you unloaded your last mag on the L96 sniper rifle and were placing the rifle back in its storage.

You smirked and shook your head.

A deep grunt came from Ghost next to him as he placed his weapons away.

"Come to the Anchor this evening" Soap had suggested as the three of you left the shooting range.

You mulled over the thought a feeble "hmmm" comes out of you

"Lt is coming, Gaz is back today and Price will be there too" Soap continues, adamant in his attempt to join them

You look up over to Ghost, who was a few paces behind you, who was looking at you. You could feel his eyes drilling at the back of your skull. You then turned back to Soap

"Maybe, need a few things to finish up in the infirmary" You say finally

"Lassie you work too hard" Soap says trying swat you. You dodge his attempt and give a small laugh.

Ghost watched on as he saw Soap talk to you. How could he talk to you with such ease was beyond him. The past week he could not keep himself from looking at you whenever you entered the mess hall, passed each other in the hall; you'd always give a smile, not the one he remembered, not the one the one that brightened your eyes and made them crinkle in the corner, but a small one that only used the left corner of your lips, and was quick, as if your lacked the energy to smile properly.

He still hadn't told you who is really was. That the man walking behind you, under the mask was Simon. Simon Riley. But now he was no longer the Simon who was a sergeant under The Captain, not the same Simon you knew. Not the one who you used to tease along with the other four cadets. He was now just Ghost.

The three of you headed back to your rooms, crossing the near empty tarmac of base. The sun setting low in the horizon. Ghost watched as you turned your head to the sunset, he could see the side of your face, a smile creeping across your lips as you gaze at the sun, the rays making your brown skin more radiant.

On the way to your room, situated just two doors down from the infirmary you turn to both Ghost and Soap

"I'll see you guys down at the Archer then" you finally give Soap his much awaited answer as you unlock the door to your room.

Soap turns towards you "Aye lassie knew you'd come" he glees

"See ya later" Ghost says to you, you turn to him and smile nod your head to him and then close the door to your room.

Collapsing on your bed. Briefly recharging your social battery for this evening. You convince yourself that this evening will help you bond with the team and gain their trust.

"A hot shower seems perfect right now" You say to yourself

Price and Soap seem to have taken you in warmly. Yet Ghost... You couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he did not like you...

Later on that evening

It was 20:30pm, you walked down to the pub, hands in the pockets of your leather jacket. A quick google map search showed it was only 10 minutes away outside base.

Your hair was wavy as a result of the braids you put in earlier during the practice shooting session, letting your hair loose this evening. Wearing black skinny jeans and a baggier grey t-shirt covered by a leather jacket. Opting for your trainers this evening.

Once you were near the pub you spot Price, taking a drag of a cigar, and Ghost outside, next to the other smokers as they both conversed with one another.

One stark difference you notice is that Ghost had swapped his hard skull mask for a black balaclava that had a skull print in white on it. He had the hood of his hoodie up. You notice the black paint wearing off around his eyes.

"Evening" you say to them as you approach the both of them

"Hari! Price exclaims before taking another drag of his cigar

You look over to Ghost who gives you a nod hello. Nodding back and giving him a smile, noticing in the street lights above that his eyes. They were blue, surrounded by long blonde eyelashes. Your eyes drew into his like a magnet.

"Soap and Gaz are inside, we'll join you in a bit" Price said, continuing to take a drag.

You nod at him and walk through the door. You see Soap and Gaz in the corner. Walking over to them, they both look up at you, Soap starts grinning

"Alrigh' lassie?" Soap says

"All good, yourself" You reply back smiling as you sit down, Gaz gives you a nod whilst he took a sip of his pint

"Good" Soap responds.

You hold out your hand towards Gaz "Nice to meet you sir, I'm Hari" you say

Gaz nearly chokes on his drink when you call him sir

"Please, call me Gaz, sir is reserved for Price" he says laughing "Nice to meet you Doc"

You smile at him

"Let me get yer a drink Hari? Wine?" Soap presumes

"No thank you, I'm not drinking alcohol this evening, I'm assisting in a surgery tomorrow with the RMC" You reply

Price and Ghost came back inside, Price sitting next to you and Ghost opposite of you, you smile at the both of them.

"Surely you can have one glass of wine? I'll get you one!" Soap says placing his hands on his thighs ready to get up.

"Bold of you to assume I like wine" You quipped at Soap and give him a playful smirk.

Price and Gaz laugh, Soap gaped at you and Ghost smirked under his mask.

"I'm going to grab a drink , anyone want anything?" You say as you get back up, hoping no one will follow you as you look around the four men.

"I'm alright thanks" Gaz says giving you a nod

"Got my pint, cheers Hari" Price says

"Nee' ter fini--s' this -brew" Soap says suppressing an upcoming burp tapping his pint.

"All good 'ere" Ghost says looking at you. You smile back at them and turn to walk to the bar. Ghost's gaze follows you, he noticed you rotate your right shoulder two times as you walked to the bar clenching and then unclenching your fist.

"New doc seems nice" Gaz said as he surveyed you, taking a sip from his pint.

"Aye, lassie is a nice one, a wee bit puzzlin' though" Soap says

"How so?" Gaz asks, confusion taking ahold of his face looking at Soap and then Price

Soap drops his head and brings his hand up to cover his mouth and ~quietly~ burps.

"Soap relax, she is just settling back into military life, and has done extremely well over the past week" Price said, his face brightening. "Infirmary looks amazing, and she's joining in on drills and practice sessions." He adds.

"Wow, considering the shit state it was before, hope it looks good" Gaz says.

"Does look really goo'" Soap says, his words slurring a bit. "Like a hospital" he adds.

Ghost kept his eye on Soap, and then looked down at the two other empty glasses besides his half-finished pint in his hand.

He's part pissed already Ghost thinks and reverts his eyes to you standing at the bar. Your brown hair loose and wavy cascading down your back. You shift between one leg and the other, left hand in your jacket pocket, your fingers on your right hand tapping against your thigh as you wait for the barman to finish serving a group of ladies on the left of you, several of whom kept glancing over to him.

You lift your right arm and flick the shorter strands of hair back and turn around to look behind you and you meet Ghost's gaze, and take a deep inhale through your nose and smile at him. Ghost diverts his gaze down to his drink and swirls the ice in his glass.

You turn back around facing the bar, no longer feeling Ghost's eyes drilling in your back.

"Sorry, I'll be with you in a few moments" the barman says towards

"No worries mate, take your time" you respond, giving him a weak smile.

Thinking back to his eyes. The wearing off the paint had shown his true eye colour. Blue. An enigmatic deep blue that left you bewildered and drew you in like a magnet, somehow, you don't know how, those eyes have looked at you before.

I wonder what kind of person he is you think to yourself. Who are you behind those blue eyes. What thoughts linger along the grey matter enclosed by your cranial bones.

Once you get your drink, pint of Coca Cola, with a lime wedge and ice, you head back over to the table where the rest of the team sat.

Ghost looks back up over to you and sees you looking right back, your drink in hand.

You keep your eyes locked on him as you make your way over to the table; continuing to think about the voice of his inner workings seeping through his spinal fluid

You grab a cardboard coaster that lay near Price, and place your drink on top.

"Wha-t'd yer ge'?" Soap asks, heavy Scottish accent looms

"Pint of coke" You say dryly, bringing up the cold glass up to your mouth and taking a sip, relishing in the sudden rush of the cold coke moistening your tongue that became dry.

"How was leave Gaz?" Price asked Gaz

"It was good, nice to relax a bit" He replied

"Do anything nice?" You ask him. Gaz looks at you and smiles,

"Saw few mates back home and played bit of football" He said

"Thin' we sho-ud' shots" Soap suggests out loud

You and Gaz look up to Soap, he was slightly swaying and wide eyed. Is he pissed? Thinking to yourself.

"Wouldn't mind one" Gaz said, giving Soap a pat with his right hand on his back.

"I'll have one too then Soap" Price says

A few moments later 5 shot glasses appeared on the table as Soap and Gaz place them in the centre of the table

Soap moves each of the shots in front of Gaz, Ghost, Price and you.

"Ah Soap" You say groaning, as he moves the shot towards you.

"C'mon Hari" Soap says noticing your grimaced face.

You take another sip of your coke and look at the shot in front of you. The unknown 25 mL colourless liquid.

Lifting up the shot to your nose, you instantly identify the liquid from the strong anise-flavoured smell. Sambuca.

"Nope" you say and slide the shot back into the middle of the table.

"C'mon" Soap said again

"I don't do sambuca, it's vile!" You explain, giving the shot a disgusted look and pushing it further away

"Okay then" Soap says huffing.

"Right lads" Price says picking up his shot, the other three follow his move "Welcome back to 141 Hari" Price resumed nodding to you as you meet his eyes.

You pick up your coke and join in the cheers, laughing slightly as the big glass towered over the shot glasses.

As you took a sip of your drink you noticed Ghost pull up his balaclava with his left hand whilst holding the shot in the other, and placed the edge of the shot in his mouth tilting his head back. This glance revealed his pale skin, dry lips that moistened with drops of sambuca, you noticed blonde stubble across his jaw. You diverted your eyes back down to your glass as he brought his mask and head down.

Ghost looks at you as you take another sip of your drink, you look back at him, locking him in with those glassy brown eyes, a few strands of your short hair fall, the ends touching the warm brown skin, near the edge of your cheek, he noticed they have pink hue. Another strand touched the corner of your lips, lips that were glossy and a slight pale red. His eyes spanned across those lips, noticing two very small brown moles, on the edge of the top lip on the left, and the other just above.

Soap and Gaz grimace after taking their shot, Gaz chases the shot down with a sip of his pint.

Feeling flushed all of a sudden, you take off your jacket and place it on the back of the chair, bringing your bare right arm on to the table and holding your glass and placing your left arm on your left thigh.

"Who's gonna have the spare shot?" You ask around the table smiling at the guys.

"Not me" Gaz says "Hari you're right, that stuff is vile" he adds

Price chuckles at Gaz and then takes a sip of his pint. You laugh at Gaz's comment.

"Aye, I'll 'ave it" Soap says grabbing the shot and downs it.

Leaning back in the chair and lifting your right arm, you run your fingers through your hair, pushing the shorts strands away from your face.

Ghost notices a black bone tattoo on your upper arm on the back, starting near your elbow and disappeared up your arm covered by your t-shirt. He traced his eyes back down your arm and then back up to your face. His eyes meet yours, locked in as you lower your arm down on the table again.

Soap also took note of your tattoo

"Nice tat'oo" He said slurring his words. You turn your gaze to Soap, you noticed his eyes became super wide. The alcohol was thoroughly coursing his body. "Why a bone?" He adds

"Never knew you had a tattoo" Price said looking at you arm as you lifted it up, pointing your elbow to the sky, your biceps flexed as you lifted the sleeve of your t-shirt down near your underarm, showing your tattoo in its entirety to the team.

"Cor lassie you have some muscles!" Soap blurted out pointing towards your arm. Gaz shakes his head and laughs.

"Johnny's drunk" Ghost said as he looked at him disapprovingly.

You were taken aback by Soap's comment and lowered you arm.

"It's the humerus bone" you say smiling, showing your teeth, looking at the tattoo

Soap was surprised by your smile, the same one who showed briefly on your first day. He felt a warm feeling spread across his chest. To be honest, think that was the alcohol

"Yer real pretty" Soap says gazing at you

Price and Gaz look at Soap with shocked looks and then turn to you. Ghost narrowed his eyes at Soap and then looked at you.

You snorted and then scoffed, shaking your head.

"Soap's off his trolley" you say to Ghost, who nods in agreement.

"Come off it Soap" Price says "Getting you some water" he adds and then gets up from his chair heading to the bar.

"'Onest-ly, yer are" Soap adds "Yer got a fella back home?" Soap asks grinning, his head bobbing.

"Fucks sake Johnny" Ghost gruffs, nudging him slightly in the sides and looks back over to you with cautioned eyes. Why did he have to get this pissed tonight he thought.

He saw how your face changed from that smile to annoyance. Your eyes wide as you come to grasp what Soap said.

"Nope, no one back home" You say say looking at Soap and then back to your half finished pint of coke, and take another sip, you meet Ghosts gaze again, you look back down as you lower the glass.

Soap tried to reach over to you, Ghost pushed him back slightly with his left arm, as Soap nearly knocked an empty glass over. Price walked over with a glass of water to Soap and set it in front of him.

"Drink up sergeant, you'll have a killer hangover tomorrow" Price says to him shaking his shoulder. Soap takes a sip of water. "Doc ain't going to be looking after you tomorrow" He adds looking over at you.

Price took in your face full of concern, your dark thick eyebrows burrowed close together. He suppressed a chuckle when he looked back over to Soap who started to hug the glass of water.

"You alrigh'?" Ghost asks noticing your face still was stern. You look up at Ghost, eyebrows still furrowed and lips pursed.

"All good" You say giving him a smile. "What you drinking lieutenant?" You add, nodding your head towards his glass, where the ice nearly melted

"Bourbon" he said picking it up and swirling the glass.

"A man of corn whiskey eh?" You say back to him, smiling.

"I love Kentucky" He says taking in your warm smile, and then felt the edge of his mouth curve a bit under his mask.

"Speakin' o' love" Soap butts in, sliding closer to Ghost, with his glass of water in hand pointing at you. Ghost turns to him in annoyance whilst you look on, bracing yourself for another drunk comment.

"Here we go" Price huffs, eyeing Soap as he watches the sergeant continue his drunken behaviour he'll surely regret tomorrow. Gaz places a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh.

"Ever been in love?" Soap says towards you

You scoff again at his bluntness, shaking your head.

"Long time ago" you reply taking a longer sip of coke, placing the glass back down, continuing to stare at the last remnants of ice in Ghost's drink.

"Awh did he break yer hear'" Soap said eyeing you, leaning across to Ghost who tried to nudge him off his shoulder.

You look up, and smirk at Soap's remark. He takes a sip of his water

"Yeah... she kind of did" You said, looking straight at Soap to take in his reaction.

Ghost's eyes widen at you. Soap chokes and spits out some water, some of it on Ghost who shoved Soap away from him. Price and Gaz laughed.

"Fucks sake Johnny, get a hol' yourself" Ghost grunts. You reach in your jacket pocket for a pack of tissues and hand one to Ghost.

"Thanks" He says grabbing the tissue and wiping his jacket.

"Time for us to head back now Soap" Price said chuckling and checking his watch, getting up from his seat and moving towards Soap who tried to get up by himself but was struggling.

"Gaz gimme a hand" Price says attempting to help Soap stand up and grab his jacket. Gaz gets up and moves towards Soap and Price.

You still sit and grab your drink, taking another sip. You eyes meet Ghost's who was still sitting as well.

"You two coming?" Gaz asks looking at you and Ghost.

"I'm gonna finish my drink" You say, lifting your glass.

"I'll walk back with you" Ghost says, looking at you.

"Don't have to, base isn't far" You say back to him

"Don't min'" Ghost says as he watches Price and Gaz carry a drunk Soap off his seat and put his jacket on. He notices Price staring at him and then mouth "Tell her!" He sighs and looks back at you. Don't want you walking back by yourself this late he thinks to himself as he checks his watch. 11:05pm.

As Price and Gaz steady Soap, their arms wrapped around his shoulders, you hear a small whelp "She broke her hear'?" coming from Soap as they walk off behind you.

Laughing, you turn to Ghost who had his eyes on you. Still watching me are you? You think.

"Do I have something on my face?" You say, moving your left hand up and scratching your cheek.

"No" Ghost says, still looking at you.

"Then why are you staring?" You say back, giving him a smile, as you place you left arm on the table, wrapping your fingers around the glass.

Ghost looks down, trails his eyes on your fingers curved around the glass and moves his eyes up your wrist. His eyes narrow as he notices long white scars spreading from your wrist to the top of your lower arm. White scars in contrast to your brown skin. You followed his eyes, and removed your arm from the table, and placed your arm on your thigh.

You became so used to the scars on your arm that you forgot they were there until other people stare or made comments about them.

"Bad habit of mine" Ghost says finally "Sorry" he says looking up at you. The blue eyes drawing you in.

"Listen, I know you have reasons to be cautious" You begin "Price told me about Shepherd" You add sympathetically.

That fucking traitor you think scowling to yourself.

Ghost takes a deep breathe and leans back in his chair. A chill overtook his body. He grabbed his drink and then lifted his balaclava to take a sip. Liquid courage he thinks hoping it'll help ease the upcoming confession.

You briefly look at the exposed skin, so pale and dull. When was the last time your skin felt the sun you wonder.

"My file is probably a piece of shit" You say, breaking the silence. You couldn't stand a potential mentor hating you. Suddenly, without the alcohol, you found the courage to just blurt your thoughts.

"It's only logical to be suspicious, but I mean no harm. I'm just here to help and want to be values member of the team" You confess.

Ghost looks at you, a feeling of slight guilt overrides him. A lump was forming in his throat. Why is it so hard to tell you he thinks

"I know" He says at last, clearing is throat, yet the lump persists. He leans forward, his blue eyes darting over your now worried face. Eyebrows furrowed, but your eyes have a sad glaze to them.

"Shall we start fresh lieutenant?" You say, offering your right hand towards him and giving him a smile, a smile that made your eyes crinkle. The smile Ghost recognised.

He extends his hand out, and shakes yours, your soft warm hands wrapped and engulfed his calloused cold hand. Ghost noted the firmness of your shake, gripping his hand. You start to let go and Ghost follows your move. Sitting up and leaning a bit closer to you.

You pick up your glass and take the last long sip of coke and remaining ice, crushing it between your teeth and letting it flow through. Lifting your phone out your inner jacket pocket you realise it's nearly midnight.

"Shoot" You say and then look up to Ghost "Is it alright if we go? Have surgery tomorrow morning" you add

"Course" Ghost says leaning back and getting up. You follow through, grabbing your jacket and putting it on.

Ghost comes round the table and stands near you and watches as you slip your arms in your jacket and then look up at him.

"Ready?" You say giving him a smile

"Yeah" Ghost says, placing his hands in his jacket pockets and readjusting the hood of his hoodie, even though nothing else could hide would already hid with the mask of Ghost.

"Thank you!" You say to the barman as you head to the door

"Cheers guys!" He replies looking at both you and Ghost, Ghost nods back and follows you out. He takes a longer stride to reach the door before you to open it, letting you walk through first into the darkness outside.

"Thank you" You say as turn round facing Ghost once outside, waiting for him to close the door. You both start walking side by side on the pavement, under the glow of the orange the street lights.

"You've been good in drills." Ghost says turning to you. The only compliment that was able to come out of his mouth. You grin at him, and then look down at your shoes walking on along side him.

"They're good, tough but good." You say smiling at him, you lift your head up view the night sky. Unable to make out any stars, no moon this late... The orange street lamps did not help at all.

Ghost follows your gaze, curious as to what you were looking at.

"Somethin' wrong?" He asks looking back down at you, you turn to look at him, a puzzled look swept across your face.

"No, just trying to see the stars" You say pointing to the sky

"Oh" Ghost says "Why?" he asks

You turn to look at him, disbelief was the next look that took ahold of you as you scoffed

"Because..." you start motioning towards the dark sky, trying to see any stars, but had no luck due to the street lights. Looking around you try and find an area that wasn't near any artificial lights. Up ahead you see a small wooden area.

"C'mon let me show you" You say turning to Ghost and then walking up ahead, your pace quickening. Ghost follows, taking his long strides that match your slight jog.

As you both reach the wooded area you walk in a bit whilst Ghost watches you continue to look up in the sky.

Away from the lights, your eyes focus on the night sky, you see three dots in a slight bent line. Orion's belt.

"Look here" You say pointing to the stars. Ghost looks up, waiting for his eyes adjust, and tries to navigate them to where you are roughly pointing. He sees the bright white speckles coming out against the deep dark blue of the night. No clouds in view. He sees three dots.

"Those three dots?" He asks keeping his eyes on them

"Yeah, that's Orion's belt" You say, getting a bit close to Ghost, looking at the belt as well "Then if you look up, you'll see two other stars, same as you go down" You add pointing with your finger. Ghost follows your instructions and looks at the additional four stars, two at the top and two at the bottom.

"It's like a body" He whispers and looks down at you, seeing a look of awe transform your face as you look up at him.

"That's the constellation Orion, it's about 2000 light years away" You start, looking back up at the night sky. Ghost looks back, taking in the stars that scatter the night sky. Both of you stand there in silence, taking it in, surrounded by the woods whilst a gentle wind flows through the leaves of the trees.

"What about the other ones?" Ghosts asks turning around and noticing the other stars that have become visible. Never before had he looked at the night sky like this.

"Urm, not sure" You say. "Shit, it's past midnight" you say checking your phone again, you look up at Ghost "Maybe another time, sorry I need sleep" You say

"Course" He adds and starts walking back down out of the woodlands with you. You quicken your pace. "Thank you... Hari" Ghost says, turning to look at you. You smile back at him

"Made you interested in the sky now" You say smirking and turned to look ahead.

Ghost nodded "Yeah" he whispered

The both of you headed back to base, enjoying the silent walk back, the night sky now obscured by the flood lights, making any view of the stars impossible.

Heading to your quarters, Ghost follows you, just a few paces behind, and watches as you take your key out the jacket and unlock the door. You turn towards him.

"Good night lieutenant" You say, Ghost notices your eyes become weary and tired.

"Good night Hari" He says, nodding. You give him a smile and close the door.

Ghost walks down the corridor to his room, unlocking the door and walks. He locks the door and takes his hoodie, top, jeans and balaclava off, heading to the bathroom. He looks at the reflection in the mirror. Looks at the person starring back. Simon Riley. But it wasn't the Simon Riley you knew.

Fuck

How could you bewitch him and make him forget to tell the one important thing that Price kept bringing up to him each day in the past week you had arrived.

Simon splashed cold water on his face, grabbing a bit of soap and washing the remaining black paint off his face. He dried his face with a towel and looked at himself again. The scars running across his nose, his left temple, and his cheek.

You had scars too he said, remembering those white scars scattered on your arm. Did you do it yourself or was it in Siberia? Ghost thought as he shuffled to his bed and collapsed. His mind now full of thoughts and questions of you.

Who was that woman who broke your heart? He thought as he buried his face into the pillow, the remnant feeling of your firm grip of the handshake you gave pulsed through his hand. He remembered how soft your hand was against his rough calloused war torn hand.

He drifted off to sleep, recalling the image of the Orion constellation in the night sky, Simon felt a part of himself open up a bit more...

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vinceaddams · 1 year

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Top 5 WORST fabrics

1. that fuckign. synthetic knit that some of the sport coats at work are made of. I don't know what it's called but I hate it. It's polyester with barely any stretch and is. so. DENSE. Worst thing to alter. Damn near impossible to get a pin or a hand sewing needle through, and sometimes it makes the machine skip stitches. A lot of the sport coats are half lined, and if you bring me one of those ones with the side seams pinned to take in, I will just take in the centre back seam instead because I DO NOT want to hand sew the lining back down to both entire side seams on that horrible impenetrable bullshit fabric. Sometimes it has a woven looking pattern printed on it, as if to mock me.

Some of the shirts at work are made of a slightly softer version of the same stuff, and I once tried to mend a small hole in one of them using a zigzag stitch and it shredded the fabric and ruined the shirt. They had to go find the customer an identical replacement shirt, because the stupid fabric couldn't hold up to a few tightly spaced zig zags. Bullshit, bullshit garbage fabric. I hate it, I hate it I hate it I hate it. Everyone should stop manufacturing it immediately. Stop making it and destroy the formulas so nobody can ever make it again. It's not even a particularly bad texture to touch, relatively speaking, it's just a nightmare to sew.

2. Faux fur. To be fair, there is some decently nice faux fur out there, but most of it is just such an icky plastic-y texture and it sheds so much. So so much, and then you're worried about breathing in floating fuzzies of plastic. And it can also be really hard to get a pin or needle through the base fabric, depending on what kind it is. I remember I had some scraps of white faux fur that I used for craft projects as a small child, and it was like that, and there was some kind of finishing (presumably to help glue the hairs in place) that made the back of the fabric all crusty. It's the kind of thing that's awful to touch if your hand is even the slightest bit sweaty. I dislike polyester fleece for the same reason. No fleece sheets or pyjamas for me, ick!

3. Really loosely woven boucle. Who would invent a fabric that frays so gotdamn much? Look at this. (image source) Awful. Falls apart if you sneeze at it. Unpleasant texture, and not even nice to look at. (Yes I chose an ugly picture on purpose, but it's not a look I like even if it is in nice colours.)

Where's your structural integrity?? You can have weird lumpy fabric and still weave it decently tight! Especially if it's wool and you felt it a little bit. I shortened a skirt for a co-worker and it was made of similar stuff, and I was worried I'd damage it because it was so loose and shifty. What happens if you walk by a tree or something and snag a thread? Whole thread comes out and deforms a big patch of fabric? Well that's what you get for making all your threads just acquaintances instead of best friends. (I hate poly chiffon for similar reasons.)

4. Poly/cotton blends, because they feel like a betrayal. You could have been 100% cotton but you aren't :( Could have been a nice comfy shirt or nightgown that could eventually be used for firestarters once it's too worn out, but no, can't use blends for kindling because the polyester part melts into nasty little black plastic blobs. Not like 100% cotton or linen, which burns nicely and leaves basically no ash. And I hate pilling, horrible hell texture, and synthetics tend to pill way more.

5. Anything with glitter on it, because it's contagious. Small sequins are also bad (see blog post linked in poly chiffon line) but at least they're sewn on and only come off where you cut them. I think we as a species have moved past the need to glue glitter onto fabric, because it does not stay glued. We have foil print, and metallic ink, and beading and rhinestones and metallic thread and all kinds of other ways to do the sparklyshiny. No more sticking glitter on things that might go in the wash.

Generally speaking I dislike synthetics and Bad textures, though everyone's opinion of bad textures is different. I'm also not fond of stretch knit, but it has its uses.

#ask #ask meme #fabric #sewing

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linghxr · 1 year

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Duoyinzi (多音字) That Have Betrayed Me on a Personal Level

This is a continuation of my 多音字 series. You can view the last post here. Today I’m focusing specifically on 20 characters that left me very surprised when I found out they have other pronunciations!

For some of the more basic characters, I’m not including sample vocab words this time. But I have added some lively commentary :)

1）喝

喝 hē - to drink

喝 hè - to shout

喝彩 hècǎi - to acclaim / to cheer

Of course we all know 喝 hē ask in to drink. I very recently encountered the word 喝彩, and I assumed it was pronounced hēcǎi. Nope. I was so very wrong.

2）上

上 shàng - on top / upon / above / upper / previous / first (of multiple parts) / to climb / to get onto / to go up / to attend (class or university)

上 shǎng - used in 上声

上声 | 上聲 shǎngshēng - falling and rising tone / third tone in modern Mandarin

上 shàng is one of the first characters many of us learned. So you can imagine how betrayed I felt when I learned that it can also be pronounced shǎng. Thankfully, this seems to be isolated to the word 上声.

3）大

大 dà - big / huge / large / major / great / wide / deep / older (than) / oldest / eldest / greatly / very much / (dialect) father / father's elder or younger brother

大 dài - see 大夫

大夫 dàifu - doctor / physician

This was another huge betrayal. You see, I started learning Chinese about 15 years ago. 大 was likely one of the first characters I ever learned, and I just never imagined in could be pronounced as anything but dà! Has everything been a lie?

4）哪

哪 nǎ - how / which

哪 né - used in 哪吒 / Taiwan pr. nuó

哪吒 Nézhā - Nezha, protection deity / Taiwan pr. nuózhà

When I saw Nezha written in Chinese for the first time, I was very confused. I just didn’t get how the né sound could be my old friend 哪. And apparently in Taiwan it has a whole different pronunciation. Ugh!

5）降

降 jiàng - to drop / to fall / to come down / to descend

降低 jiàngdī - to reduce / to lower / to bring down

降落 jiàngluò - to descend / to land

下降 xiàjiàng - to decline / to drop / to fall / to go down / to decrease

降 xiáng - to surrender / to capitulate / to subdue / to tame

投降 tóuxiáng - to surrender / surrender

I was really convinced that I was just hearing things wrong with this character. I first heard the word 投降 in Chinese songs, so I thought I was mishearing the lyrics. Nope—降 is a 多音字.

6）济 | 濟

济 | 濟 jì - to cross a river / to aid or relieve / to be of help

经济 | 經濟 jīngjì - economy / economic

济 | 濟 jǐ - used in place names associated with the Ji River 济水 or in 济济 / surname Ji

济南 | 濟南 Jǐnán - Jinan, subprovincial city and capital of Shandong province in northeast China

I was really surprised to learn that I don’t know many words with the character 济. It’s pretty much just 经济. The only other time I’ve ever actually seen the character 济 is in the name of the city of Jinan (济南).

7）混

混 hùn - to mix / to mingle / muddled / to drift along / to muddle along / to pass for / to get along with sb / thoughtless / reckless

混合 hùnhé - to mix / to blend / hybrid / composite

混乱 | 混亂 hùnluàn - confusion / chaos / disorder

混 hún - confused / dirty / to mix / muddy / variant of 浑

混蛋 húndàn - scoundrel / bastard / hoodlum / wretch

I was very surprised to see that 混蛋 can be pronounced húndàn because I don’t think I’ve ever heard 混 as hún before. I think hùndàn sounds better, and luckily it’s also a valid pronunciation. Two fourth tones are better to yell.

8）蔓

蔓 màn - creeper / to spread

蔓延 mànyán - to extend / to spread

蔓 wàn - tendrilled vine

藤蔓 téngwàn - vine / also pr. téngmàn

蔓 mán - turnip / Brassica campestris

蔓菁 mánjing - turnip / wild cabbage

Until recently, the only word I knew with this character was 蔓延. Then I learned 藤蔓 via this performance. Apparently 藤蔓 can be téngwàn or téngmàn, but I have only ever heard téngwàn. 蔓 can also be pronounced mán in 蔓菁 mánjing, which is some sort of turnip. I don’t like turnips.

9）佛 | 彿

佛 fó - Buddha / Buddhism / abbr. for 佛陀

佛教 Fójiào - Buddhism

佛系 fóxì - chill about everything (typically used to describe young people who don't buy into aspirational society)

佛 | 彿 fú - seemingly

仿佛 | 彷彿 fǎngfú - to seem / as if / alike / similar

I have known both the fó and fú pronunciations for a while, but I never realized they were written the same. However, 仿佛的佛 can be written differently in traditional characters (彷彿), so I guess that avoids any confusion.

10）压 | 壓

压 | 壓 yā - to press / to push down / to keep under (control) / pressure

压力 | 壓力 yālì - pressure

压抑 | 壓抑 yāyì - to constrain or repress emotions / oppressive / stifling / depressing / repression

压迫 | 壓迫 yāpò - to oppress / to repress / to constrict / oppression / stress (physics)

压 | 壓 yà - see 压根儿

压根 | 壓根 yàgēn - from the start / absolutely / entirely / simply

I recently started watching the show 《摇滚狂花》, and the characters have been using the word 压根 a lot. I was literally backing up and replaying lines to confirm that I was actually hearing yà and not yā, which is the more common pronunciation that I am more familiar with. It appears that the yà pronunciation is actually only used in 压根.

11）片

片 piàn - thin piece / flake / a slice / film / TV play / to slice / to carve thin / partial / incomplete / one-sided / classifier for slices, tablets, tract of land, area of water / classifier for CDs, movies, DVDs etc / used with numeral 一: classifier for scenario, scene, feeling, atmosphere, sound etc.

片面 piànmiàn - unilateral / one-sided

片刻 piànkè - short period of time / a moment

片断 piànduàn - section / fragment / segment

片 piān - disk / sheet

片子 piānzi - film / movie / film reel / phonograph record / X-ray image / also pr. piànzi

照片 zhàopiān - photograph / picture / also pr. zhàopiàn

影片 yǐngpiān - film / movie / also pr. yǐngpiàn

Some words like 影片 and 照片 seem to be acceptable with either pronunciation of 片. Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure I have heard zhàopiān before—usually with 儿化音. From what I’ve gleaned from various dictionaries, the piān pronunciation is more 口语 and not used in Taiwan.

12）豁

豁 huō - opening / stake all / sacrifice / crack / slit

豁出去 huōchuqu - to throw caution to the wind / to press one's luck / to go for broke

豁 huò - clear / open / exempt (from) / liberal-minded

豁然开朗 | 豁然開朗 huòránkāilǎng - suddenly opens up to a wide panorama (idiom); to come to a wide clearing / fig. everything becomes clear at once / to achieve speedy enlightenment

I was familiar with this character from the term 豁出去. Then as part of my chengyu challenge, I learned 豁然开朗. Here, 豁 is pronounced huò instead. My reaction to this discovery was something along the lines of: oh great, another 多音字!

13）将 | 將

将 | 將 jiāng - will / shall / to use / to take / to checkmate / just a short while ago / (introduces object of main verb, used in the same way as 把)

将来 | 將來 jiānglái - in the future / future / the future

即将 | 即將 jíjiāng - on the eve of / to be about to / to be on the verge of

将近 | 將近 jiāngjìn - almost / nearly / close to

将 | 將 jiàng - general / commander-in-chief (military) / king (chess piece) / to command / to lead

麻将 | 麻將 májiàng - mahjong

唱将 | 唱將 chàngjiàng - top singer

I should have realized this was a 多音字 because of course I know 麻将, where 将 is jiàng. But I never really thought about it, so I didn’t realize 将 was a 多音字 until I learned 唱将 while watching 《蒙面唱将猜猜猜》, China’s version of The Masked Singer. Apparently these is also a qiāng pronunciation of this character, but I have never encountered it before.

14）丧 | 喪

丧 | 喪 sàng - to lose sth abstract but important (courage, authority, one's life etc) / to be bereaved of (one's spouse etc) / to die / disappointed / discouraged

沮丧 | 沮喪 jǔsàng - dispirited / dejected / dismayed

丧 | 喪 sāng - mourning / funeral / (old) corpse

丧事 | 喪失 sāngshì - funeral arrangements

In my experience, the most common word containing this character is 沮丧. Then in one of my readings for Chinese class, I learned 丧事 sāngshì. Unfortunately, I always forget that it’s supposed to be sāng and end up saying sàng no matter the word.

15）给 | 給

给 | 給 gěi - to / for / for the benefit of / to give / to allow / to do sth (for sb) / (grammatical equivalent of 被) / (grammatical equivalent of 把) / (sentence intensifier)

给 | 給 jǐ - to supply / to provide

给予 | 給予 jǐyǔ - to accord / to give / to show (respect)

I was really surprised when I first saw the word 给予 and learned that it’s pronounced jǐyǔ. But here’s the truth: I hear people say gěiyǔ all the time. It’s still good to know about the jǐyǔ pronunciation though.

16）恶 | 惡

恶 | 惡 è - evil / fierce / vicious / ugly / coarse / to harm

恶劣 | 惡劣 èliè - vile / nasty / of very poor quality

恶意 | 惡意 èyì - malice / evil intention 邪恶 | 邪惡 xié'è - sinister / vicious / wicked / evil

恶 | 惡 ě - used in 恶心

恶心 | 惡心 ěxīn - nausea / to feel sick / disgust / nauseating / to embarrass (deliberately)

恶 | 惡 wù - to hate / to loathe / ashamed / to fear / to slander

可恶 | 可惡 kěwù - repulsive / vile / hateful / abominable

好恶 | 好惡 hàowù - lit. likes and dislikes / preferences / taste

厌恶 | 厭惡 yànwù - to loathe / to hate / disgusted with sth

Gotta love it when a character has more than two different pronunciations! When I first learned that 恶 can be wù. Wù is really feeling like the odd one out of this trio.

17）率

率 lǜ - rate / frequency

效率 xiàolǜ - efficiency

比率 bǐlǜ - ratio / rate / proportion

频率 | 頻率 pínlǜ - frequency

率 shuài - to lead / to command / rash / hasty / frank / straightforward / generally / usually

坦率 tǎnshuài - frank (discussion) / blunt / open

率先 shuàixiān - to take the lead / to show initiative

草率 cǎoshuài - careless / negligent / sloppy / not serious

Shuài and lǜ are so different. How can they share the same character? Fortunately I don’t typically confuse them because of how different the meanings and pronunciations are.

18）担 | 擔

担 | 擔 dān - to undertake / to carry / to shoulder / to take responsibility

担心 | 擔心 dānxīn - anxious / worried / uneasy / to worry / to be anxious

承担 | 承擔 chéngdān - to undertake / to assume (responsibility etc)

负担 | 負擔 fùdān - burden / to bear a burden

担 | 擔 dàn - picul (100 catties, 50 kg) / two buckets full / carrying pole and its load / classifier for loads carried on a shoulder pole

重担 | 重擔 zhòngdàn - heavy burden / difficult task / great responsibility

担担面 | 擔擔麵 dàndànmiàn - Sichuan noodles with a spicy and numbing sauce

I’ve been saying 重担 as zhòngdàn this whole time and just recently realized that 负担的担 and 重担的担 are pronounced differently even though the words basically both mean burden!!! This language is just trying to confuse me.

19）省

省 shěng - to save / to economize / to do without / to omit / to leave out / province / (archaic) central government department

省份 shěngfèn - province

省钱 | 省錢 shěngqián - to save money

省心 shěngxīn - to cause no trouble / to be spared worry / worry-free

省 xǐng - to inspect / to examine / to be aware / to pay a visit (to one's parents or elders)

反省 fǎnxǐng - to reflect upon oneself / to examine one's conscience / to question oneself / to search one's soul

At first I was annoyed to discover yet another 多音字. But now I really like the word 反省. It’s useful and fun to say. I first encountered this word in the song 《救生圈》 by 蔡健雅.

20）没 | 沒

没 | 沒 méi - (negative prefix for verbs) / have not / not

没 | 沒 mò - drowned / to end / to die / to inundate

吞没 | 吞沒 tūnmò - to embezzle / to swallow up / to engulf

沉没 | 沉默 chénmò - to sink

淹没 | 淹沒 yānmò - to submerge / to drown / to flood / to drown out (also fig.)

I can’t believe this 多音字 didn’t make any of my earlier posts on the subject. I learned this one quite a while ago, so it doesn’t feel as “shocking” to me anymore. But it was definitely a bit of a surprise when I first learned the mò pronunciation.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

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Jade, Kalim: Leaves from the Vine

This is the Jade and Kalim content I’ve been waiting for and wanting 😤 We haven’t seen them interact with one another much (the longest interaction is probably in Jade’s School Uniform vignette and/or the interrogation scene of episode 4), which is a shame because I think their dynamic is hilarious. Jade just feeds Kalim all these lies and Kalim 110% believes him…

I was pretty much expecting Jade to be flying low to the ground, but it’s nice that they linked Floyd’s hand in to tease Jade 😂

Side note: writing 2 birthday fics in the same day going to be difficult for me (this weekend is busy), so the Floyd one will be out later! Please be patient; I haven’t forgotten him! (And yes, for those who are wondering, the title for this Jade fic is a reference to Avatar: The Last Airbender!)

***Spoilers for episode 4 of the main story; this fic is meant to take place AFTER episode 4, as some events from it are referenced.***

A Boy in Bloom, and his Flowering Future.

“What do you do for fun on your days off?”

“I create my own tea blends.” Jade’s smile was easy as he offered his response, dangling it like a tasty morsel over Kalim’s head. “I use a variety of sources for my leaves: the Botanical Gardens, plants I’ve raised, and, of course, those I’ve collected on mountain excursions. I find that there is joy in preparing one’s ingredients just as much as there is in experimenting with them.”

Kalim sunk his teeth into it, hook, line, and sinker.

“Oooh!” The dorm leader blinked back, his mouth in an “o” shape--a mixture of both obliviousness and total awe. “Wow, you put in so much effort to do something you really love!”

“Fufufu. One might say that once something captures my interest, I devote myself mind, body, and soul to pursuing it.” Jade inclined his head to one side, thoughtful. His left eye glinted like gold “The Mostro Lounge occasionally features my tea blends as limited time items. Devotion, as Azul says, ‘pays’ off in the long run.”

“Whoa, that’s SO cool!! Brewing your own tea, making your own potions, mountain climbing, helping out at the Mostro Lounge... There’s nothing you can’t do!”

“You flatter me.”

“No, I’m serious! You’re amazing, studying and working hard for yourself and for others...” Kalim shook his head. “You’re a lot like Jamil!”

A light laugh passed between Jade’s lips. “We are both vice dorm leaders, no? It naturally falls to us to support our respective dorm leaders.”

“Gahahah! You two always seem to be way ahead of me. Azul too! You’re all super smart and accomplished and...”

Kalim continued to ramble, singing the birthday boy praises. But Jade had already sensed a change in the air, and a shift to his interviewer’s smile. Lingering doubts, words not spoken.

Sadness to his sunshine.

Sometimes... I wonder if I can catch up to where you guys are.

Yet Kalim wore a brave face. His smile, his suit of armor. The sadness squashed down so as to not rain on the birthday celebration.

How selfless of him. How kind, Jade chuckled to himself, to worry about such a thing after experiencing the ultimate betrayal.

In the recesses of his heart, something stirred. Notes of sorrow and compassion floated to the surface, coloring his mild amusement with a different shade.

Pity.

“... Kalim-san,” Jade piped up, “do you know what the trick is to brewing delicious tea?”

“Huh? No, I don’t think so.”

“Then allow me to share my secret with you.” Extending a hand, Jade caught a leaf passing in a breeze. It was just an ordinary little thing, ragged at the edges, and set in an inconsistent color. Scarlet to orange to sienna to yellow. “It’s aging.

“Most commercial teas derive their leaves from the same plant: the camellia sinensis. Depending on how long they are left to dry in the sun, they will produce a different kind of tea. Green, black, red, white, and so on and so forth. Different methods of preparation are optimal for different kinds of tea.”

Jade held out the leaf to Kalim.

“Think of each of us as a leaf. At our cores, we are the same. We have blood, flesh, and bones. We breathe the same air, attend the same school... but we all have our own strengths and weaknesses, our own courses in life. Steeped by time, we can become teas that are unexpectedly delicious.

“We are different, and we are all the more interesting for it.”

He set the leaf free, and it was carried up, up, up over their heads, and out into the world. The two of them, trapped under a beautifully blue sky.

There was silence, with only the whispers of the fickle winds lapping at their ears.

“… Thanks for the advice, Jade,” Kalim said at last. “I feel like I learned a lot about you today!”

“I am always happy to assist a peer.” Jade executed a bow. “It is thanks to those such as yourself that I am able to have so much fun at Night Raven College.”

After all, life would be ever so dull for me without these small, simple pleasures.

“You got it!!” Kalim beamed, the full extent of his cheer having returned. He eagerly thrusted the broom he was holding to Jade, his eyes glimmering. “And now it’s time for you to have fun on the birthday road!”

“Oh dear… I’m afraid that flying is not my forte,” Jade sighed, reluctantly accepting the broom. He positioned it parallel to the ground, but hesitated in sitting down. “I worry that I will embarrass myself before you.”

“Eeeh, so there are things that even you aren’t good at?” (Jade tactfully decided to not point out how indirectly rude that comment was.) Kalim pumped a fist. “Don’t worry, you can do it!! I believe in you!! Oh—I know!! I’ll cheer you on, maybe that’ll help you focus on flying!”

“Oh no, there is not need to…”

Kalim was already stomping and clapping his hands and wiggling his arms in odd waves. His voice spiked up. “Go, go, Jade!! You can do it, Jade!! Close your eyes, summon a WHOOSH, and blow’m all away!!”

“… Pfft.”

Such a juvenile chant—but one that is full of heart.

“Very well. I will do my best to meet your expectations.” Jade gingerly seated himself upon the broom—teetered to one side, then repositioned himself securely. With an uncharacteristic gulp, he let a warm spark of magic run from him to his handle.

A moment later, and the broom shakily hovered off the ground. It stopped a few centimeters up, then crawled off with Jade (miraculously) still mounted on it. Leaves kicked up in a trail behind him.

(Kalim continued to cheer through the fumbling.)

Well, now. This isn’t so bad.

Jade allowed himself a tiny, triumphant smirk as his broom began ascending a stairwell.

It seems that I’ve improved over the past year!! I—

“Jaaaaaade!”

Suddenly, Jade felt his wizarding cap being yanked off of his head. Fully exposed to the glaring sun, he craned his head and stared at his assailant: a boy with a face so close to his own.

Floyd expertly hung upside down from his own broom. He flashed his twin a crooked grin when their gazes met.

“Eheheh!! Made ya look!”

“Fufufu. Indeed you did.”

He laughed, Floyd laughed—even Kalim’s laugh carried to them, riding upon an autumn gale. Different people, mingling and seeping into his closely guarded heart, and the secrets that he kept locked up within.

The memory of today, another secret to store. Something precious to Jade.

Yes, it is because of everyone that I am able to have so much fun here.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Jade Leech #Tweels #Floyd Leech #Kalim Al-Asim #disney twisted wonderland #notes from the writing raven #something no one asked for #Jade birthday takeover #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #spoilers

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punchdrunkdoc · 3 months

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Part 3, Chapter 9

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness?

Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 3 (maybe 4??) parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

————–

PART 3

Chapter 9

The warehouse was a confusing maelstrom.

The scents and the body heat of dozens of people blended together, and the painful cracks of gunfire bombarded Matt's sensitive hearing. But within moments of crouching by the main door of the squat, rectangular building, he started to sense the order in the mayhem.

The Widows were advancing through the space in teams, covering each others’ backs, their movements precise and economical. Their enemies were spread out and floundering, seemingly taken off guard, and too poorly trained to adapt to the sudden attack.

No. Not quite. Matt cocked his head, assessing the occupants of the warehouse further. They weren’t poorly trained, they just weren’t used to working as a team. As individuals, they definitely had some skills…but they still weren’t a match for the Widows.

He followed the fight from the sidelines, knowing it wasn't his place to intervene, that it wasn't his battle. But he was poised to enter the fray if Calina or one of her sister's were at risk of getting hurt, or if something went wrong.

And after ten long minutes of fighting...something did.

The balance of the fight somehow shifted. Something turned in the favour of Volkov’s men, and the Widows formation started to fracture. They started to take more hits, and they had to scramble to try to cover each other.

But not all of them managed.

Matt caught the moment one of the smaller Widows came up against a hulking thug almost twice her size. He could smell the gunpowder from her weapon where it had been knocked to the ground, and she was reduced to dodging and spinning out of the way of the brute’s powerful fists, her own hits landing with barely any impact against his muscled mass.

Sensing the danger she was in, and knowing it was time to act, Matt sprinted through the doorway and into the warehouse. He leapt over workbenches and the boxes littering the cavernous space and reached the Widow just as her opponent picked her up by the throat and slammed her onto the concrete floor. Matt launched himself into the air, twisted, and used his momentum to kick the Russian in the side with full force. The brute grunted as he flew across the floor, and Matt quickly leaned down to check on the Widow at his feet.

Up close he recognised her as Inessa, one of the Widows from the cabin. She was sprawled on the concrete, eyes closed and not moving. The scent of copper filled his nose, but before he could check for the source of bleeding, his opponent got to his feet and came at him.

That’s right, Matt thought as he ducked under a right hook. Pick on someone your own size.

He parried the hook with a one-two jab of his own, and attacked with a series of kicks and punches…but just like Inessa, his hits barely registered. The hulking Russian just absorbed the impact and kept standing. Even a booted kick to the face - with Matt’s entire forced behind it - did little more than snap the man’s head to the side. He just spat out a globule of blood and smiled, baring red-stained teeth.

Matt took a step back, frowning. His first kick had managed to affect the guy…but was that just due to the element of surprise? Because nothing was working now.

Who the hell was this?

What was this?

There was no time to figure it out - it was the brute’s turn to go on the offensive, and Matt had to use all his concentration to avoid the attacks.

Given his size, the man wasn’t exactly light on his feet, but his fists packed a huge amount of power. The support beam to Matt’s right splintered into fragments when one of the punches missed Matt by a hair and impacted the wooden structure.

Matt wasn’t so lucky with the next hit. He was a fraction of a second too late to fully dodge an uppercut, and the glancing blow to his chin was enough to send him flying backwards. He landed in a heap next to the still-unmoving Widow. He gave himself a moment to shake off the ringing in his head from the impact before staggering back to his feet.

But it was a moment too long.

It gave his attacker time to swipe Inessa’s fallen gun and start firing. Matt dodged the first round, his honed senses moving him out of the line of sight before his addled brain had a chance to catch up.

The next round glanced off his mask.

But by the third round, Matt was ready. He ducked and spun out of the way, grabbing his billy club from his holster. With a sharp flick, he sent one end of it barrelling towards the gunman. The baton hit the man in the hand with a crack, and the pistol flew out of his grip.

Before Matt could follow up the move, a familiar figure came sprinting towards them from the right. Matt watched as Calina leapt up onto a nearby workbench and used the added height to launch herself onto the shoulders of the Russian brute. She wrapped her long legs around his chest and jammed both hands into his neck, sending bolts of crackling electricity through his system.

As the incapacitated man dropped to the floor, Calina gracefully rolled off his shoulders, somersaulted across the floor, and came up in a crouch at Matt’s feet.

She stared up at him, mouth parted in surprise. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

There was no time to reply. Another man had chased Calina across the room and was coming in hot. Matt grabbed Calina by the arms, pulled her to her feet and shoved her behind him just as the newest aggressor reached them.

This one had a knife. A long, serrated dagger that flashed towards Matt as the man attacked. Matt blocked the blade with the edge of his baton, and countered with an elbow strike. Calina stepped out from behind him, dropped into a spinning crouch and swept the knife-man’s legs from under him. He collapsed to the floor, and Matt followed him down, hammering a vicious punch into his face to knock him out.

Another assailant came running at them, this one a similar build to the electrocuted brute.

And he was just as strong.

It took Matt and Calina working together to take him out, the two of them utilising their strengths in tandem - Matt’s offensive skills, Calina’s agility, the weapons strapped to her wrist, and the baton in his hand.

And they complimented each other perfectly. They both seemed to instinctively knowing where the other one was, and what they were going to do. They were so in sync, it was like a dance. As if they’d been training together all their life.

As the man finally fell unconscious at their feet, Matt turned to Calina and touched his gloved hand to her cheek, his senses checking her over for any injuries. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

She pressed his hand to her face. “No, I’m fine. Are you?”

“I’m good. But who the hell were those guys?”

Calina shook her head. “They’re not supposed to exist. And they’re definitely not supposed to be here.”

———

Their intel had failed them.

All of Anya’s careful research, the days and days of carefully scrutinising the footage from this warehouse, the weeks spent wading through the information from Ranieri’s laptop…and no one had realised that three members of Volkov’s team were supersoldiers.

Well, super-ish soldiers.

The former Soviet Union had never quite managed to faithfully recreate the serum that had transformed Steve Rogers into Captain America. They’d come close with the Red Guardian during the Cold War, but a fire had broken out in the lab hosting the supersoldier program, and decades of research, and the top minds involved in the project had gone up in flames.

Over the years they’d tried to reverse engineer the serum from the Red Guardian’s blood. But the resulting super soldiers were weak facsimiles, and they invariably succumbed to an aggressive form of blood cancer, accelerated by the serum.

It was no secret that Dreykov’s ultimate goal had always been to combine the mind control of the Widows with the power and strength of the Red Guardian - he’d even experimented on his own daughter to try to achieve that aim. Calina had just assumed all that research had been destroyed when the Red Room fell.

But Volkov had obviously managed to find a few vials - and a few volunteers - and had created a cadre of three semi-enhanced soldiers.

Enough to give the Widows a fight tonight.

But not enough to thwart their victory. Calina glanced around as the warehouse suddenly went quiet, the gunfire little more than an echo, and the sounds of hand-to-hand combat silenced. All of Volkov’s men were down - either knocked out or dead - leaving only the Widows and Matt left standing.

Matt.

What was he doing here?

Before she could ask, he suddenly pushed past her and crouched down behind one of the toppled workbenches. Calina followed, her boots crunching through broken vials and beakers as she hurried to catch up.

Rounding the table, she spotted the still figure sprawled on the concrete. “Inessa!” she gasped. She dropped to her knees and patted the Widow’s face gently. “Inessa? Can you hear me?”

There was no response. Stomach lurching with fear, she scrambled at the material of the other woman’s high-collared suit, tugging it down to try to reach her pulse.

“She’s alive,” Matt reassured her. “But one of those ‘things that shouldn’t’ exist slammed her hard.”

Calina let out a shuddering breath. She hadn’t realised Inessa was in trouble. All of the Widow’s training and strategy had fallen apart once they’d encountered the supersoldiers. 18 against 9 had turned out to be shitty odds when super-powered, 6-foot-5 killing machines were part of the 18. They’d lost track of each other in the melee, their careful plans to watch each others’ backs had fallen apart in the struggle to just survive the fight.

The fight that Matt had wanted no part of. The fight that he didn’t agree with, and the one which went against every facet of his moral code.

But the one he’d joined nonetheless. To help her and her sisters.

“Thank you,” she whispered, knowing instinctively that Inessa would be dead if it wasn’t for him.

“You can thank me when she wakes up,” Matt said, probing the back of Inessa’s head. When he lifted his hand, his glove was wet with blood.

“How is she?” Yelena asked, fear evident in her husky voice. She and the rest of the Widows had rushed over to crowd around their fallen teammate.

“She needs a doctor,” Matt answered. “She’s got a nasty laceration. I can’t sense a fracture, but she’ll need to see a doctor to be sure.”

Yelena nodded, then turned to Calina. “You and Katya, take her to St Jude’s across the river. The gear’s in the van - you know the drill.”

Calina nodded, then looked to Matt. “Can you carry her out? I’ll be there in a second.”

“Of course.” Matt lifted the other Widow in his arms and followed Katya as she led him out of the warehouse.

“Will you guys be okay here with all the…clean up?” she asked Yelena.

“We have enough time,” Yelena replied. “Anya’s checked the airwaves, and no one’s reported the gunshots to the police.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

There were several bodies on the ground who were merely incapacitated and not yet dead - including the two supersoldiers that she and Matt had fought. They needed to be taken care of. And Volkov still needed to be interrogated. Once again, she felt like she was being given the easy way out. That her sisters were taking on the dirty work of killing, while she left with her hands somewhat clean.

“We’ll handle it, Calina,” Yelena said, not unkindly. “Inessa needs you. You’re best placed to sell the cover-story to the medics - you’re a lot less beat up than us, thanks to your boyfriend.”

Calina glanced around at her sisters, realising Yelena was right. They were all littered with wounds and bruises, while she was relatively unscathed. “Okay. I’ll check in later.”

Yelena nodded, then turned and started barking orders at the rest of the team.

Calina jogged out of the warehouse towards the van stashed in the adjacent lot. The earlier pain in her knee - forgotten during the heat of battle - flared up as she ran. By the time she reached the vehicle she was limping badly.

“You okay?” Katya asked from the driver’s seat.

Calina nodded and jumped in the back, pulling the sliding door closed behind her.

Inessa was laid out on the floor, still unconscious. Matt sat by her head, his mask in his hands. The sight of his messy, sweaty hair caused a pang somewhere deep in Calina’s heart. She wanted to freeze time and live in this instant forever. She wanted to avoid the inevitable moment when he would say goodbye and she’d lose him for good.

But they needed to move. Now. Inessa needed medical attention as soon as possible…and she wanted Matt as far away as possible from the warehouse before the executions began.

So she sat down, took Inessa’s small hand in hers, and called out to Katya. “Let’s go.”

———

Five minutes later, Calina started to strip, knowing it was time to put the plan in action. She pulled down the zipper of her suit and started to wriggle her arms out of the tight fitting material.

“What are you doing?” Matt asked, sounding confused.

“Getting changed,” she explained. “I can’t take Inessa into the ER looking like this.”

She kicked off her boots and peeled off the rest of her outfit, then rummaged in the duffel bag stashed in the back of the van. She eventually found what she was looking for and pulled it out, the heavy sequinned material rustling in the quiet of the van.

Matt cocked his head to the side and frowned as he tried to place the sound. “Is that your dress?” he asked. “The one you wore the night we fought?”

Calina laughed, the sound holding a bitter edge. “Yeah. Maybe one of these days I’ll actually get to wear it out dancing.”

But maybe not. This particular dress held nothing but bad memories now. In fact she was starting to think it was cursed. First there was the mind control incident, and now one of the worst case scenarios from this battle was playing out - a Widow was injured enough to need hospital care.

Calina finished dressing, quickly fixed her hair and applied some make-up. Then she turned her attention to the unconscious woman on the floor. She quickly removed Inessa’s suit and placed a different dress around her neck. As Calina gently manoeuvred Inessa’s arms through the sleeves, the other woman finally started to stir. “Why’m I naked?” she slurred.

Calina froze at the sound of her sister’s voice, then let out a shaky laugh. “You’re not naked. But you hurt your head, Nessie.” The nickname came out of nowhere. But it felt right. It made Calina realise how much she cared about the younger Widow…and how worried she’d been that she’d never hear her voice again.

She pulled Inessa into a seated position, quickly tugged down the dress, then let the injured woman rest against her. Her head fell heavy onto Calina’s shoulder, and Calina gently smoothed a hand over her braided hair as she explained what was happening. “We’re taking you to the hospital. But we need to get the cover-story in place first. You remember the plan, right?”

Inessa started to nod, but groaned as it aggravated her sore head. “Party time.”

“That’s right. Just one more thing to do.” Calina glanced up at Matt. “Can you-” Her question died on her lips as she saw the strange expression on his face. His head was still tilted to the side, his eyes were soft, and he was smiling a small, affectionate smile. It was so out of place in this van soaked with fear and sweat and blood, that she didn’t know what to make of it.

“Matt?”

The smile dropped. He shook his head as if clearing it. “Sorry, what?”

“Can you pass me the bag by your feet?”

He reached down and grabbed the paper bag, handing it over. She pulled out the bottle of whisky from inside, unscrewed the cap and downed a heft swig of the dark liquor. Then she deliberately splashed some of the contents over Inessa’s outfit.

“So that’s the cover-story,” Matt commented, putting together the plan. “You were out drinking and got injured.”

“Yep,” Calina replied. “We’re just two innocent, twenty-something party girls living it up on a Friday night.”

Matt shook his head in admiration. “You guys really thought of everything.”

“We had a lot of time to plan for all eventualities. Well, almost all eventualities.” The last part was muttered under her breath.

But, of course, Matt caught it. “You’re referring to those men in the warehouse?” he guessed - correctly. “The ones who aren’t supposed to exist?”

“Frickin’ supersoldiers,” Inessa muttered, still slumped against Calina.

Matt sat forward. “Supersoldiers? Really?”

“Yep, really,” Calina confirmed. “Do you see why someone like Volkov - with his knowledge of how to create monstrous armies - needs to be taken off the board?”

Matt said nothing and Calina winced internally - she didn't mean to drag up their fight again. She didn't want to remind him of why everything between them had fallen apart.

Luckily, she was saved by Katya. “We’re here,” she called from the driver’s seat.

———

Matt felt the van slow as it made a left turn. The sounds of beeping monitors, and the smell of antiseptic and blood grew stronger as they approached the entrance to the hospital.

“You okay here?” Katya asked Calina.

“Yeah, I got it,” Calina replied. “Can you drop Matt off somewhere dark and shadowy on your way back?”

“No problem,” Katya called pulling to a stop. “Be careful.”

“You too. I’ll call with an update once we’ve seen a doctor.”

“Do I get a call too?” Matt asked. They still hadn’t gotten a chance to really talk. The whole reason he’d been at that warehouse tonight was to see her, to talk to her.

To figure out where they both stood.

Even if that mean re-hashing their fight from the other night, so be it. He just wanted to talk to her.

Instead, she was about to leave, and he felt a sudden, irrational spasm of fear that he would never see her again. That she would disappear forever and he’d be left with nothing but a disconnected phone number and a pile of regrets.

Calina paused, her fingers resting on the door handle. She turned to him slowly. “Do you want me to call you?”

“I think I made that pretty clear when I dialled your cell a million times today.”

She frowned. “You did?”

Matt frowned too. “Yes. I called you all afternoon. Because we need to talk, Calina.”

The confusion radiated off her - and it felt honest and true. She really hadn’t known that he’d called.

Had it all just been a misunderstanding?

He’d spent hours fuming with anger over her ‘cold shoulder’ treatment of him, and he’d recklessly traveled all the way into Jersey to hunt her down…all for nothing?

No. Not for nothing. If he hadn’t been there in that warehouse tonight…and those men had managed to kill Inessa and overpower Calina…

He couldn’t bear to think about it.

He was meant to be there tonight. Call it God’s plan, or fate, or just wild coincidence…for whatever reason, he’d ended up in the right place at the right time tonight.

“I hate to interrupt,” Katya called out, “But you need to go, Calina, before someone takes too much notice of this van.”

“Right,” Calina said. She pulled her hand from his and wrenched open the sliding door. Then she helped Inessa out, one arm wrapped tightly around the other woman’s waist. She looked back at Matt and bit her lip. He could sense her indecision - and her struggle between helping her friend and not leaving things so uncertain between them.

So he let her off the hook. “Go,” he said, grabbing the handle of the door. “Inessa needs you. We can figure this out later.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “I-I’ll see you later.”

“See you later.” He pulled the door shut, and followed her with her senses as she hobbled with Inessa into the building. As Katya started the engine, Matt listened as Calina put on a show for the medical staff inside.

“Please you gotta help us, my friend fell!”

He laughed at the unexpected, note-perfect Brooklyn accent.

“We were just out drinkin’ at that bar, you know the one in Bushwick with the balcony and all those fairy lights, and she fell. Outa nowhere. There was all this blood and she was knocked out cold.”

She’d completely morphed from his sweet, serious Calina into the perfect rendition of a vapid, drunk party girl.

It was impressive, really.

“What’s so funny,” Katya asked.

“Calina. She’s really selling your cover-story.”

“Yeah, when she gets into character, she really commits. She should be on the stage.”

“I can’t really picture that.” Calina was too reserved to chase a life in the limelight. She wanted a simpler future, filled with happiness and meaning.

He just hoped he could be a part of it.

————–

Chapter 10

Tag list: @hollandorks @chezagnes @stilldreaming666 @sio-ina-bottle @tearoseart-blog @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyyy

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#daredevil #daredevil fic #tabula rasa #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock #daredevil x original female character #marvel's daredevil #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x oc

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danddymaro · 1 year

Text

Run | Byakuya Kuchiki x Reader

This has slight Byakuya x reader as well as a hint of the sternritter showing a slight interest in her too.

- Let’s pretend

During the fight against Äs Nödt

Word count: 3050

Run

Clammy red ornamented the ground, the resistance it has as you take a trembling step back hard to overlook.

Regret immediately fills you as you soon come in full contact with a body that nearly cocoons you still, blocking off your escape.

Scarlet clings to the bottom of your sandals, acting as red ropes that bind you to the spot as you feebly watch what you dreadfully accept are the final breaths of your captain.

And you do so at the hands of the very man you now utterly despise.

His large, pale hands tenderly pet the sides of your arms before they each cease their travel, finding comfort on the spot that's right between your shoulder and neck.

You can feel the pointed black ends curl into you, caging you furthermore as he leans down to you.

A falling river of sable softly tickles your cheek before it falls past your shoulder, and there's a part of you that imagines it aiming for your neck, coiling like a serpent that takes what's left of your life. However, it's seemingly harmless, soon flowing down to touch the most pronounced bit of your exposed collarbone with a tease that steals a breath from you.

The feather-soft strands that fall to you pet you, and even though it's an unwanted caress you feel as though it's a sense of betrayal.

After all, It's damning to be so close to your enemy and do nothing.

What isn’t covered by your uniform can feel him and the sickening twist that comes from the delicate contact blends the insides of your stomach until the contents threaten to rise up. Heavy heat collects between the travel of your throat and stomach, and you try not to think about how revolting it is to have his scent surround you, owning you.

It's the nauseating stench of too clean, reminding you of a once prolonged stay at the 4's barracks. It reminds you of powdered latex too, and as it overwhelms you, you try to escape the invisible snare that has you at his mercy.

But all you can do is look toward your captain, helpless.

He sees you in a way no one ever has, and while pride has been a staple in your demeanor, in your very duties... it's lacking at the moment.

A low chuckle that comes from behind you forces a tiny shiver from you, and as you swallow down thickly you release a breath that quivers.

You want to fight back, yet, you've yet to draw your blade.

Instead, the gleaming sharpness resides in its decorated sheath at your side as you feel defeated, beaten without a breath that harbors evidence of resistance.

A low, warm breath scarcely graces your right cheek as it escapes his black mask while he speaks, starting with a single sound that’s of consideration.

“Ah...” he says. " Yes, you are terrified," he observes, and somewhere in there, you can hear his excitement gently dribbling from his wicked tongue.

-And perhaps that's why the monster that teases you treads so close, so intimately.

It's mere entertainment to him.

"But moreso...grieving," he murmurs as he realizes that the man before you is someone precious to you.

It’s not the fear of your death that has you stunned, but instead, his.

"He's dying," he tells you in his low, dragged-out voice that only makes the dreadful moment feel eternal, the very deep hum of his words just more mockery that pulls you into despair.

Your moves feel terribly slow as your sluggish body proceeds to act, and as the Dark haired being that mercilessly taunts you watches, he wonders if you realize how much your movements hold no peril.

He stirs not one bit, and no movement is made to stop you.

He merely stands in wait, truly curious as to how you will proceed.

Your fellow officers are slain, scattered bits of their remains only bloody trails that paint the ground of demise.

Your lieutenant is defeated as well, but faring better than the rest of your squadron as he lays motionless while low, struggled breaths emit from his bloodied mouth.

He hangs over the crumbled ground and the Sternritter knows it's only minutes in counting before he draws his final one.

And the captain he had witnessed you gaze at awe with was painted red, slowly drained of his life as he remained where he'd last left him, defeated by his own power.

-There was no saving him by that point.

' What will you do? ' he idly wonders.

It feels like a century before your clammy palm comes in contact with your zanpakuto, but as it finally reaches it, you bite your inner cheek with no true idea as to how to proceed.

Feebly, you continue to look over to your Captain, your eyes gleaming with sorrow, speaking unsaid words too as your voice has no volume.

What has always felt like second nature leaves you, and you're bare to the world, defenseless like a beast without teeth, left to fend without claws.

The hand that firmly grasps your sword trembles as your shoulders begin to slack, and you swallow down thickly,

"I..." your voice catches in your throat, and as the Quincy hears it he feels rather piqued by curiosity to know just how soft you sound when conquered.

It's only a breath, but his ears perk, and he even stills his own.

Meanwhile, you're not sure what you want to say, what matters most.

Would it be an apology? Should it be a sorrowful apology for failing before even trying?

-For being such a coward when he'd done the contrary.

Would another attempt at a breath be enough to tell him that you'd been happy before?

-That just before the attack, before the declaration of war when it'd been just another day... you'd been happy?

Your red-haired lieutenant grins too hard, and he narrows his eyes at you with so much mischievous playfulness, you're immediately flustered.

"Why didn't you tell me," he says lowly while he finds a way to jab his elbow at your ribs. "Huh?" he presses on while coming close as though he's being inconspicuous despite how loud his harsh whispers are.

You barely have time to argue before he proceeds,

" Look at you putting the moves on him," he adds with actual awe that worsens your response.

You can feel yourself overheat, slowly melting like a well-lit candle, and as you try to say something a small squeak escapes, making things even worse.

All you'd done was Bring the man some tea and a sample of some baked goods you thought would pair nicely. You had free time and thought of it as a good idea before.

"It's not like that!" you say, your voice failing at first, and when you stutter it's worse for your case, making Renji laugh.

The way he throws his head back as he releases the sound has you wanting to hide, but not much more than when your superior finds you two.

Your moment is interrupted as your captain arrives, his eyes immediately on his desk where your offerings had been delicately placed.

There's a touch of surprise there, but it slowly softens before his dark eyes then skim over to you two.

"Evening captain!" Abarai quickly finds his composure, the touch of respect and cordiality he addresses your captain with, one you hope to one day find balance with.

A little hum and nod are offered to him before you seem to be specifically targeted by his gaze, and your hands begin to sweat beneath the long sleeves of your attire.

Your greeting is small and terribly bashful as you fight through the intensity of his glare, and what is definitely a stifled chuckle from the man beside you.

"Wouldn't you know..." Renji starts as he places a hand on your shoulder, tightly gripping it, " I actually find someone to fill in," he adds while gesturing to you as you look at him with terribly wide eyes, not knowing what he's referring to.

You're terribly lost, but you're too afraid to ask.

"Oh?" Byakuya raises a perfectly trimmed brow as he looks at you.

"She said she'd loved to be here with you all day," Abarai claims, and you can hear your heart pounding away as your breath fastens.

is he really throwing you under the bus like that?

"She even made snacks," he points out merrily before he lets out a soft sigh.

"I don't know why you'd want to be stuck here all day," he then tells you, and there's a discreet touch of tease in there you catch and has you feeling nervous.

"But who am I to argue," he says before he halfheartedly shrugs, leaving with just that before letting you fill in on the extra workload that had been left to him.

It's only until your alone, stuck before a towering stack of paperwork that you realize how he'd played you.

'That asshole,' you think to yourself, your jaw tightened as you think about how Renji had found a way to stack his paperwork onto you while he was probably getting drunk with that pretentious prick Yumichika and that big, shiny-headed jerk Ikkaku.

It was supposed to be his shift! His work! His duties!

'i'll get him back,' you swear as you're about to leave, but you are stopped by the sound of your name.

You're rooted by the exit, your hand on the door as you slowly peek back,

"Yes?" you say back your voice soft as silk. Anything he says is listened to dutifully, and if you knew how much your face glowed at his attention, you'd understand how easy it is to discover your closely harbored secret.

- The one you’re so afraid to let anyone know.

Byakuya remains seated on his chair, and he's overlooking the last bits of the reports in hand as he speaks, his entire demeanor untroubled as always,

"Thank you for your help," he tells you, the straightforward appreciation greeted with graciousness of your own.

Your response comes naturally.

You smile at him, subtly, and touched with a faint show of fluster that he does find endearing, even if he doesn't comment on it.

Momentarily, he eyes it as he breaks his concentration on his work.

Somehow you manage to respond, and it earns you a faint sound that hints at content.

" Oh," he then sounds, as though he remembers something,

"The calligraphy club is having a meeting this Thursday," he informs you, and you look at him with surprise.

You recall how exclusive it is, how the only other remembers are respected captains, and you nod in acknowledgment before it strikes you that maybe he’s inviting you.

‘Is he inviting me?’ you wonder dumbly before he says more.

"I hope it interests you, " he then proceeds, and after a moment of disbelief, you fiercely nod.

And you smile in a way that has him certain you'll attend.

You practically glow.

' I was so hopeful,' you think idly, and your face softened into a melancholic smile directed at him.

'So...happy,' you add.

'That I'd like to think you were too....' you proceed to wistfully muse.

Rukia has trouble not looking your way, her dark eyes briefly skimming over you to admire how lovely you look as you walk alongside her brother who seems rather lighthearted as of late.

She's noticed, even if it's been a rather modest change, but he has a certain glow to him that's warm. And the occasional smile he walks with is also a sight she can’t overlook.

" You know I'd been hiding from her for hours," Renji said while looking at you, finding everything but a seething woman.

At first, he was convinced were going to get back at him and that it was all an act to make him drop his defenses, but the more that time progressed, the more he was changing his mind about it.

" I thought she'd be angry when she saw me, but it's like she's been floating on air, " he notes, having observed how happy you seemed.

Much more the lack of animosity towards him when he did bump into you, which would have eventually happened given how close you and captain Kuchiki had been as of late.

“They've both been...” he takes a short pause before his eyes round, quickly looking at Rukia who only offers him a soft smile.

'Run...' Byakuya silently pleas, detesting how it's his immediate thought.

It’s a bitter sting to him, and an insult to you, but it’s the only thing his heart tells him is right.

He looks at you with dread, with unfortunate defeat as he fails to reach you, helplessly watching the enemy so near you.

It’s sickening to him, and he can’t do anything about it.

His eyes then skim down to his broken blade that serves no purpose but to lay there silently.

"I've yet to pierce you," the slender male that observes you comments as he cranes his head to the side, his wide-eyed stare more apparent than yours, yet holding none of your tremor and dread.

His eyes which are the emptiest black lack an empathetic shine, harnessing the same empty existence as the center of black holes, holding nothing but mystery within them that you don't wish to look back to.

'- Run away,' Kuchiki silently begs again.

It's like he's crying out to you, and the speed at which your face hides from his sight is near blinding.

You shut your eyes tight, and as your chest heaves, there's a sound that leaves you that reaches long distances before you finally react.

The echo of your misery is one that peaks with determination as you finally find your courage.

The hand that reaches for your blade quits shaking, and while your first strike fails as your opponent dodges, you advance with another swing.

The cold sweat that had decorated your forehead finally rushes off you as you fight, the narrow misses your blade preforms encouraging you enough until one good strike gets him.

-An opening.

You move with haste delivering a second strike, and whilst you feel the connection, he seems unscathed, a truth that has you peeved. Blow after blow he’s unaffected.

Instead, he simply looks to you with just the softest touch of amusement in his dead eyes as he waits for you to realize your attempts are futile, that he has no weak spot.

The precise jut of your blade’s point that touches his neck’s base is blocked off, angering you.

‘Of course,’ reality hits you. ‘We don’t know anything about them,’ you inwardly curse, not knowing how to proceed.

‘And what little we’ve just found out doesn’t help me at all!’ you add as a cursed thorn flies past you.

You stare with a hard glare at the last that threatens to pierce you, and you swallow down bitter spit.

He’s practically toying with you, something you can’t seem to understand until he moves, his true speed a terror to you as he approaches you, nearing dangerously close.

The sharp points of his mask seem even more threatening as they've approached you, soon digging into your flesh as he even leans closer to your terribly stilled form, yet again at an intimate distance.

“Tell me,” he starts, “ Do you fear me?” he dares to ask, and he stares at you the entire time, unable to look away, hardly able to waste a moment with a blink that obscures the sight of you.

one of his hands take hold of your face’s lower half, tightly gripping for only half a second before he yanks the hand away, black nails wickedly raking over your skin, leaving angry marks over you.

His touch grazes you before he intentionally pulls back, yet another showboat of his that has you cold shivering.

‘I can’t beat him,’ you think solemnly, knowing so, aware any strike of yours would be immediately deflected by his strange shield.

“I have to...” you breathe, struggling through the ache in your chest as you know what you have to do. You’re certain, yet it doesn't take away from what you feel.

He can see it in your eyes, the desperation, the pretty shine your gaze holds and it fully captivates him.

‘I don’t want to go...’ you lament wishing you had the strength to stand your ground.

The gentle flicker that is your captain is hardly there for you to feel, and it’s like you can feel him slowly fading away, forcing you to focus on another presence instead.

‘But he’s still there,’ you think with relief, and you accept the only other choice you have as your empty hand aims to your neck where the choker that snugly decorates it is hastily torn off.

‘We lost the battle...but not the war,’ you think.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and while you look toward the man before you, you’re not speaking to him.

With an underhanded swing you send the choker towards the sternritter and as it explodes you make an escape.

It’s a diversion with a small window for you as smoke spreads after the blast.

As you hold your blade in one hand, the other collects the thick tears that obscure your sight as you speed through the destruction that has destroyed everything you knew.

The very ground you once walked on is crumbed and painted red, a scene that makes your heart wrench, but you continue to move forward.

Meanwhile, the dark haired menace that stays behind glances at you idly, his eyes following your figure as it draws further from him, as you head to the same direction he’d seen your lieutenant land.

“Are you still there captain?” he asks, his eyes possessed by you as you flee.

A spiteful, stuttered breath leaves Byakuya , yet it causes the Quincy no torment.

Instead, he seems pleased as he grins at the defeated male,“ You must be relieved,” he proceeds.

“ - To have her far from me,” he then muses.

“You seem to have some luck, you won’t have to watch her die,” he adds.

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mermaidsirennikita · 2 months

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ARC REVIEW: This Could Be Us by Kennedy Ryan

4/5. Releases 3/5/2024.

Vibes: heroine-forward, single parents, finding yourself, and discovering a person who actually *sees* you

Soledad lives the affluent good life in Skyland--though she certainly relies emotionally more on her friends than her husband, Edward. The mother of three girls, she's a planner, a fixer, and the model wife. Which is why her life is so thrown into chaos when she discovers the depths of Edward's secrets--secrets exposed by his coworker, Judah Cross. At first, Soledad resents Judah for his part in the downfall of her perfect life... But as she rebuilds and rediscovers who she is independently, she finds herself growing closer to the man who's never seen her as a pretty object on a pedestal.

Both of Kennedy Ryan's Skyland books have been deeply emotional and focused on tough, realistic subjects (though they certainly aren't without humor and fun drama). This Could Be Us is definitely more heroine-forward than Before I Let Go, which I found to be more of a balanced heroine and hero's journey. That's not a critique--Soledad's a compelling, likable heroine I was instantly rooting for, and that never let up. And that's not to say that Judah isn't a hero; we see his POV, and Kennedy maps out a rich backstory for him.

I'd call this one a sort of blend between women's fiction and romance. You do get all the romance beats, and the story does center Soledad and Judah's love story. It's a slow burn with simmering tension from the moment they meet--and they do in fact meet and initially feel that tension before Soledad recognizes the depths of Edward's betrayal, and that tiny hint of dirtybadwrong is delicious. But I would say that the novel centers Soledad's individual journey just as much, and definitely more than it centers Judah's. If you're looking for a book that really makes you feel that sense of like... I don't know. Maybe A Waiting to Exhale vibe? With much more romance? This could be exactly what you want.

Quick Takes:

--Personally, I really like having someone truly hateable in a romance novel, and I kind of feel like a lot of recent releases have sort of let up on having a hardcore dickwad who just needs to go die in a fire. Well! Kennedyn certainly did let me down with Edward! The guy is a Grade A jackass, and I think the novel does a great job in the beginning of showing us how certain men can wear a woman down over the years without raising a hand against her. And in fact, because physical violence doesn't happen, emotional violence and neglect is excused because we as women have been societally conditioned to think "well, at least he doesn't hit me".

In general, I've thought a lot over the past few years about the grossness and the less-critiqued epidemic of men who just can't fucking stand being with women that shine. That's what you see here. Soledad is everything--beautiful, caring, talented. Not flawless; she's deliciously human. But she's far above her stupid husband, and rather than just being happy that he punched above his weight and won, and enjoying the woman he managed to catch, he's constantly trying to bring her down to his insecure level. Dude, that is so real, and so awful.

I kind of had a feeling pretty early on that I knew where Edward's damage was going, and you don't wait long to find out about it. But there was another thing on top of it that just made so angry for Soledad. Which speaks to the investment I had in the story, right?

--I do think.... and this is me being someone who loves a dirtybadwrong read... that while Kennedy set a strong pace by having Edward's misdeeds revealed early on, we could've used a bit more time and interactions between Soledad and Judah when she's still fully in her marriage. There's an immediate spark between them, and having some of that tension build while she's truly forbidden fruit would've been fun.

--In contrast to how shitty Edward is, Judah's ex-wife, Tremaine, is lovely. She's not a conventional ex-wife/single mom figure, and I so appreciated that on several levels.

And the thing in romance novels and the romance-reading community.... There's a real fear of depicting exes, especially female exes, in a positive light. Like, I know there are bloggers who will categorize Tremaine as an "other woman/OW" simply because she slept with Judah in the past. Never mind that she was in fact fully married to this man and had two kids with him, and has now fully moved on and supports him as a co-parent in moving on as well.

I just really loved seeing this positive but realistic depiction of co-parenting. It was also kind of a fun contrast to Yasmen and Josiah's co-parenting relationship in the previous book, as they were very clearly still in love, and Judah and Tremaine are very clearly nOT.

--A big part of Judah's side of the story is that his twin boys are both autistic. I am not an expert on the spectrum by any means, and I can't speak to the accuracy of that. Kennedy does discuss her research in a note, and it seems like she made a big effort (and she has an autistic son herself). Just wanted to call that out for curious readers or reader who hear about this but are uncertain about the perspective from which she's coming.

The Sex:

This is a sloooow burn. As in, no kissing until about the 70% mark. I'll admit, I did kind of want some action before then, but the sexual tension is great. It's just a different take than some of the other Kennedy books I've read.

After that point, you do get a few very good scenes. I really loved that one aspect of Soledad's relationship with sex was getting over some really shitty things Edward said about her body and made her feel, and the worshipful way in which Judah treated her was super great in that respect.

Also, always nice to see people who aren't like... 20-30... having hot sex in a romance novel!

While this was a slower-moving and more women's fiction-adjacent book that I expected, it's still an absorbing and deeply effective story. I really enjoyed reading about Judah and Soledad's love story, and it's definitely a great story for those who need something that meets them where they are in a journey of rebirth. Don't we all need that sometimes?

Thanks to Netgalley and Forever for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

#romance novel blogging #netgalley #arc reviews #book recs #book reviews #books #romance novels

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deliciousangelfestival · 6 months

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Every Time You Lie - Ch 4 || Lloyd Hansen

Character: dark!Lloyd Hansen x female!reader, dark!Husband Lloyd Hansen x Wife!reader.

Synopsis: Any woman is jealous of you, especially with the status of being the wife of Lloyd Hansen—the CEO of the biggest pharmacy company in the country. From the outside, everyone sees you as a perfect family, a successful husband, two kids, and living in a big house.

But the truth is different. You are trapped in this marriage because of the mistake you made. You are willing to give everything you have to get your freedom. Free from him. Free from your vicious mother-in-law. Free from your snobby son.

Both of them shouldn’t be together.

Warning: Betrayal, suicidal thought, harsh language, tragedy. Minors do not read. 18+

Author Note: I do not consent to copying or translating my work.

Words Count: 3,551

Any reblog, comment, and feedback are appreciated. I want to know what you guys think.

Series Masterlist || Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6,-

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

Determined to find the missing pieces of your life, you were resolute about leaving the hospital. Despite the doctors' recommendations for more rest, you insisted on speeding up your discharge. Every moment spent confined in the hospital felt like precious time wasted.

Lloyd, your supposed husband, supported your decision. Yet, his concern seemed to stem more from his internal battles rather than genuine care for your well-being. His gaze held a mix of anxiety and something you couldn't quite place, making you feel increasingly unsettled.

Your skepticism towards Lloyd deepened as you struggled to recognize the man presented as your husband. Your instincts pushed you to seek understanding from the one person you felt could trust—your daughter, Emily.

Alone in your room, Emily seized a fleeting moment when the vigilant bodyguard left, feigning concern by pretending to place a bandage on your chest. As soon as both of you were alone, a sense of urgency lit up in Emily's eyes.

"Mother, I don't have much time, but you need to know the truth about our household," Emily whispered urgently. "Father holds the ultimate authority in our household. His decisions shape everything. Mother always adheres to what he says. If he rejects something, it's final. And if he approves, it's unquestionable. Just hold on, Mother. I'll figure out a way to help you escape from here."

You felt a mix of emotions—confusion, suspicion, and a profound need for the truth. Your reliance on Emily as the only familiar and trustworthy figure in this puzzle of your life intensified.

In that fleeting exchange, you realized the grip Lloyd held over the household, and the sense of constraint around your existence magnified. It felt like being caged in a life you didn’t recognize, enforced by rules you hadn't consented to. The resolve to break free and uncover the reality surged within you.

Suddenly, the heavy air in the room shifted as Lloyd entered. His mere presence seemed to suffocate the space, casting a shadow that loomed over everything. Emily's demeanor, despite being related by blood, reflected a facade of grief in the face of his entrance.

Lloyd's countenance softened, adopting a concerned expression as he addressed you. "How are you feeling, my dear?" His voice held a blend of tenderness and concealed apprehension, creating an unsettling aura that made you instinctively retreat.

Your mind churned with questions, doubts, and an instinctive distrust toward this man you were told was your husband. The sense of entrapment in his presence only heightened the urgency to unravel the truth behind the facade of this life you were expected to accept.

You forced a strained smile "I'm alright, thank you, Lloyd."

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, then he turned to Emily. "It's late. You should rest. We'll have a lot to take care of tomorrow."

You watched as Emily nodded obediently, her eyes briefly meeting her mother's, a silent reassurance amidst the hidden distress. With a swift, worried glance at you, Emily left the room.

Alone with Lloyd, the unease in the room felt palpable. You attempted to compose yourself, yet the air crackled with tension, making it increasingly challenging to suppress your growing sense of skepticism and fear.

Your mind raced with questions, doubts, and the feeling that you were entangled in a web of secrets and lies. As you observed Lloyd's careful demeanor, you vowed to find the truth, to unearth the reality buried beneath this carefully constructed mirage.

Lloyd, enveloping you in a gentle embrace, held you as if trying to bridge the gap of lost time. His touch conveyed a genuine longing, a yearning for your presence that was difficult to fake. "I've missed you so much, Y/N," he murmured, his voice tinged with a blend of relief and genuine affection. "I'm overjoyed to see you standing again, to witness your recovery. You've made remarkable progress."

Caught in the duality of her own confusion and the necessity to comply, reciprocated the embrace, your mind wrestling with the incongruity of emotions. You masked your skepticism behind a facsimile of reciprocated affection, knowing you had to tread cautiously within this enigmatic household.

Lloyd, as he held you, felt a surge of relief coursing through him. He was elated to see you regaining strength, standing on your feet again. It was a moment he had anxiously awaited, a glimmer of hope in the maze of uncertainties. His joy at your recovery was genuine, yet it was intertwined with the dread of potentially losing the delicate balance he had tried to maintain.

"I've been so worried about you," he admitted, his voice filled with a mix of tenderness and guarded anxiety. "Seeing you on your feet again—it's a great relief, Y/N. I want nothing more than for you to recover fully, to reclaim the life we've shared."

"Thank you, Lloyd," you softly uttered, her words carrying a hint of solace, enough to offer a glimmer of comfort to the man who seemed to miss you dearly.

Your response carefully measured a balance between your quest for truth and the facade you needed to maintain for the time being, even though your heart yearned for answers hidden within the veils of your forgotten memories.

The car ride back to the Hansen residence was a silent journey. You seated beside Lloyd, gazed out the window at the passing buildings and streets, your eyes filled with a mix of awe and bewilderment. The city looked so different—modern and advanced, a stark contrast to any image you had in her mind. Everything seemed unfamiliar, yet subtly intriguing.

As they arrived at their home, your eyes widened at the grandeur of the mansion. The scale and opulence of the building were truly impressive. However, the facade felt imposing, creating a sense of discomfort within you, an inexplicable feeling that it was all too much.

Stepping into the vast halls of the Hansen mansion, you felt overwhelmed by the extravagance. The grandeur seemed excessive, almost suffocating, as if the walls echoed with the weight of secrets and the burden of a life you didn’t remember living.

Lloyd guided you through the corridors, every step magnifying your unease. The walls were adorned with art, the furniture spoke of luxury, and the air was scented with an air of richness that contrasted starkly with your sense of displacement.

The residence that was supposed to be your home felt foreign, like a stage set for a life you have yet to comprehend. The enormity of the mansion felt less like a sanctuary and more like a labyrinth of hidden truths and unanswered questions.

Stepping into the grand master bedroom, you felt a shiver of trepidation down her spine. The room exuded luxury, adorned with lavish furnishings and an ambiance that spoke of comfort and wealth. Yet, you couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that this was a space belonging to a stranger, not you.

Lloyd observed your hesitation, his own expression filled with a mix of concern and an underlying apprehension. Sensing your unease, he approached you with a gentle demeanor, trying to mask the weight of his own hidden worries.

"Dear, I know this is all overwhelming. But the doctor recommended that we stay together like we used to. He believes it might help trigger your memory to return," Lloyd explained, his voice tinged with an urgency that mirrored his desperate hope for your recovery.

You're still unused to every time he calls you 'dear.' Your heart fluttered uncertainly, caught between your natural wariness and the doctor's suggestion. The thought of blending into a life you couldn't recall felt suffocating, but you realized the urgency of your situation.

Torn between your instincts and the doctor's recommendation, you nodded, a hesitant agreement borne more out of necessity than genuine comfort. In this unfamiliar space that was supposedly your sanctuary, you found yourself straining to navigate the delicate balance between compliance and your quest for truth.

Lloyd led you into the clothing room, which he claimed to be your favorite. The room was adorned with an assortment of elegant dresses, shoes, and accessories that radiated opulence and sophistication. He watched you with hopeful eyes, waiting for a sign of recognition or approval.

"This is your favorite place, dear," he said, his voice carrying a note of anticipation.

You scanned the room, your heart fluttering with a sense of disconnect. The elegant gowns, the neatly arranged shoes, and the luxurious accessories felt like remnants of a life you couldn't quite recall. The items bore an air of sophistication that seemed at odds with her own sense of style and taste.

For a moment, a fleeting sense of discomfort washed over you. These weren't the clothes you would have chosen for herself. Your style and your preferences were nowhere to be found among the opulent collection. But understanding the situation's fragility, you fought back the instinct to express your discomfort. You masked your true feelings behind a composed facade, not wanting to upset Lloyd, who seemed genuinely trying to help you reconnect with her lost memories.

"Thank you, Lloyd," you replied with a measured smile, careful not to reveal your inner turmoil. As you stood amidst the lavish collection, you realized that, for the time being, you had to navigate this world, gently treading the line between complying and searching for the truths hidden within your forgotten memories.

As you perused Lloyd's wardrobe, your attention was drawn to a unique perfume bottle sitting among the array of exquisitely crafted colognes. The bottle's design stood out, and Lloyd's discerning gaze caught her inquisitive stare.

With a faint smile, Lloyd leaned in, his eyes reflecting a hint of pride. "I customize all my perfumes. Each one is unique, crafted to match specific moments or memories."

You nodded, acknowledging his explanation, and continued to scan the bottles. Among them, one bottle captured her attention. Its scent carried an inexplicable familiarity, triggering a jolt in her memory. Curious and inexplicably drawn, you picked up the bottle and uncapped it, the scent wafting gently to your nose.

However, as the fragrance reached your senses, a sudden and piercing headache tore through your mind, almost causing you to collapse. Before you could fall, Lloyd swiftly caught you, his arms providing a secure and steadying embrace.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Lloyd's voice carried genuine concern, his arms ensuring your stability.

Struggling to regain your balance, you fought the throbbing headache and the unsettling dizziness that the fragrance had brought. Despite the agony, a faint memory flickered at the edges of your consciousness, a memory so close yet shrouded in the haze of amnesia.

Barely composing herself, you managed a weak nod. "I-I'm fine, just a sudden headache," you murmured. The scent lingered in the room, its familiarity stirring a faint glimmer of memory just beyond your reach, leaving you in a whirlwind of confusion and questions that seemed to have no answers.

Seating you on the bed, Lloyd observed you closely, his concern palpable. The perfume bottle, a relic from his past, lay on the dresser, its scent triggering an unexpected turmoil in you. At that moment, his own thoughts turned somber, clouded by the weight of his own past mistakes.

Lloyd's gaze lingered on the bottle, the same perfume connected to his most significant mistake involving Zoey. A wave of regret and apprehension washed over him, realizing the potential impact this fragrance could have on your fragile state.

His resolve solidified, knowing he needed to eliminate any reminders of his past transgressions, especially one that had the power to distress you. The decision to remove the perfume became more than just safeguarding you; it was about erasing a connection to his own grave errors, ones that threatened the delicate balance of the life he was desperately trying to rebuild.

With a determined yet pained expression, Lloyd silently vowed to get rid of the perfume. His biggest mistake, a wound from the past, seemed to have resurfaced, and he couldn't risk the distress it might cause you. Resolutely, he made plans to dispose of it discreetly as a means of protecting you and shielding you from the repercussions of his own regretful history.

As Lloyd ensured you was resting, he quietly slipped out of the room. In the hallways, his steps slowed as a cold shiver ran down his spine, heralding the arrival of his mother, Krystal. Her aura was as intimidating as ever, emanating an air of authority and unyielding dominance.

"Lloyd," Krystal's voice sliced through the silence, her tone stern and unwavering.

Lloyd turned to face her, steeling himself for what he anticipated would be a confrontation. "Mother," he acknowledged, his voice laden with a mix of caution and respect.

Krystal's eyes pierced through him, cold and calculating. "A daughter-in-law with amnesia is akin to having a dementia patient in our family. It brings disgrace to the Hansen name," she declared, her words cutting deep with a disdainful tone.

Krystal's disdainful words pierced Lloyd's facade, igniting a fire within him. The insult towards you, spoken so callously, shattered the thin veil of diplomacy he had attempted to maintain.

Lloyd's fervent tone shifted as he confronted his mother, the intensity in his voice resonating with a blend of regret, urgency, and an undercurrent of anger.

"Mother, don't you dare speak ill of my wife!" Lloyd's voice quivered with a mix of disappointment and a newfound determination.

Krystal, surprised by the change in her son's demeanor, observed the turmoil within him. The bond between them had been strained after the car accident caused by Lionel, a turning point that shifted the family dynamics.

"Lionel's recklessness nearly took my wife from me!!! I won't allow her to slip away again, especially not because of you or anyone in this family," Lloyd expressed firmly, the weight of responsibility for your safety etched into his every word.

"Looking down on Y/N? If you continue your disrespect towards my wife, I'll erase you from this world without hesitation," his words cut through the air like a blade, carrying a severity that shocked even himself. The rawness of his anger unveiled a side of him his mother rarely witnessed.

The tension in the room thickened, marking a moment that showcased the transformation in the family dynamic after Lionel's mistake, emphasizing Lloyd's resolute stance to protect you, no matter the source of the threat.

Lloyd's sudden outburst left Krystal utterly speechless. Her usual poised demeanor shattered as she stood frozen, aghast at her son's uncharacteristic and forceful words.

Her mouth agape, Krystal struggled to find her voice. "Lloyd..." she stammered her tone a mix of astonishment and disbelief. The sheer audacity of her son's manner had left her momentarily stunned, unable to comprehend how he could speak to her in such a manner.

As the tense confrontation unfolded between Lloyd and Krystal, unbeknownst to them, Lionel had just returned from school. Hearing their conversation from the hallway, his heart sank, realizing the weight of his actions and their impact on his mother, Y/N.

*******

Frozen in the corridor, Lionel stood in disbelief, absorbing the severity of his mistake and the weight of his father's words. His recklessness had nearly cost his mother's life, and he was now witness to the turmoil it had caused within the family.

As Lionel retreated to his room, the weight of his emotions bore heavily upon him. His heart ached with the burden of his mother's absence—the void left by her amnesia that denied her the memories they once shared.

Tears streamed down Lionel's face as he sat in solitude. His gentle and loving mother, now lost to the turmoil of amnesia, was a painful reality he struggled to accept. Memories of her warmth, the moments they shared, and the comfort of her embrace flooded his mind, deepening the ache in his heart.

But how could he ask that? Before you got amnesia, he wasn't a good son; he never listened to you, and he always abused your kindness to get what he wanted since he knew you could never get mad at him.

In the silence of his room, Lionel's quiet sobs echoed the profound longing to hold her once more, to seek solace in her comforting embrace.

"I miss you, mom... Hikss... I'm so sorry. Please remember me."

He wished for the return of the gentle and affectionate moments they had shared, now lost in the fragments of her forgotten memories. The weight of his own actions that led to this situation bore down upon him, and he wept for the absence of the mother he dearly missed.

Krystal's incident on the first floor resulted in a situation where her leg strength was at risk due to an unforeseen mishap involving her son. During the commotion, her secretary, Zoey, rushed to her aid. When Lloyd encountered Zoey assisting Krystal, a moment of tense silence enveloped the room.

As he observed the scene, Lloyd was deeply affected by the presence of Zoey, his secretary and a figure from a past he wished to leave behind. At that moment, a silent yet weighty realization struck him – the emergence of Zoey, a reminder of past mistakes and the complications that followed, leading to strain in his relationship with you.

As Lloyd encountered Zoey tending to Krystal, he was slightly surprised to see her in front of him. Since you had fallen into a coma, Zoey had seemingly vanished from their lives. Her reappearance at a critical moment, just as you returned home with amnesia, raised questions in Lloyd's mind.

The unexpected reappearance of Zoey, your sudden amnesia, and Zoey's presence at a crucial juncture triggered a series of perplexing thoughts in Lloyd's mind. Who was this woman, and what was her sudden reappearance after your return? The timing seemed more than coincidental, and it sparked a nagging sense of suspicion and doubt within him.

As Lloyd entered his bedroom, he observed you peacefully sleeping on their bed, no longer reliant on the supporting machines—a sight that seemed almost miraculous to him. Gratitude swelled within him, knowing you were alive and resting in the comfort of their home.

Carefully changing into more comfortable clothes, Lloyd approached the bed. Gently, he slid under the covers, mindful not to disturb you. With a heart full of gratitude for her presence, he wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her close, cherishing the moment. Placing his chin on your shoulder, he held her gently, feeling relieved that you were safe and by his side once more.

In the stillness of the moment, as he held you close, Lloyd silently prayed for you to regain your lost memories. He yearned for you to remember the life they had built together, the moments they had shared, and the connection they once had. He hoped for the return of the woman he cherished, hoping that you might once again become the loving and devoted wife you had always been.

After Zoey assisted Krystal back to their residence, she discreetly excused herself and made her way outside. Pulling out her phone, she dialed a number and waited as it rang.

"She's home," Zoey stated before ending the call. A mysterious smirk played upon her lips, hinting at a concealed plan or hidden motive. Her expression bore an enigmatic assurance, suggesting that more was at play beneath the surface.

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Series Masterlist || Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 , -

Main Masterlist || support me: Ko-fi 🥹💓

#lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen x fic #lloyd hansen x y/n #soft!dark lloyd hansen imagine #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen x reader #dark!lloyd hansen #soft!dark lloyd hansen x y/n #soft!dark lloyd hansen x reader #chris evans characters #chris evans x reader

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