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theemporium · 3 months

Note

Oh, please write for Mat! What about something fluffy with surprising the partner at home?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

You were dragging your feet by the time you reached your apartment after work.

The exhaustion you felt went beyond lack of sleep and long days, it was set deep in your bones and made every part of your body feel ten times heavier than usual. Everything felt harder than usual. From falling asleep at night to getting up in the morning, from focusing in classes to paying attention during your shifts, from just pushing your body to work on some twisted sense of routine that made you feel like you were a robot completing tasks to the fact you hadn’t felt like yourself in a while.

It was tiring, it was exhausting and you didn’t know what to do about it. And coming home to a completely empty apartment didn’t help settle the unease in your chest, the one that had been bubbling since Mat left for a roadie over a week ago.

However, being on the other side of the country only put a damper on your already shitty mood. By the time you could manage a conversation over message or call, it was late for you and you were fighting to keep your eyes open, even if you knew you would inevitably be tossing in your bed for a few hours trying to fall asleep. Though, you never did sleep well when Mat was gone.

Despite every cell in your body screaming for you to forget dinner and curl up in bed with the hopes that you could manage more than a few hours of sleep for your first day off in almost two weeks, you knew there was still so much buzzing in your mind for you to do and you didn’t even think the comfort of being home would help.

You were so lost in your thoughts that it took three attempts before you managed to slot the key into the lock, turn the handle and shuffle inside. You hadn’t even acknowledged the extra pair of shoes by the door or noted the bag dumped a few feet away.

You didn’t even catch on to any of it until you lifted your head and found Mat standing there, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and hoodie, with his arms spread open and a massive grin on his face as he stared right back at you.

“Surprise!”

You blinked, your brain unable to even process the sight in front of you.

“We decided to take a late night flight because the early morning one got cancelled so we came home early,” Mat explained as he closed the distance between you, grinning at your silence thinking you were just shocked. “Couldn’t wait to get home to my girl.”

The second he was close enough, Mat wasted no time in winding his arms around your waist and tugging you close until you practically fell into his chest. He grinned down at you, so giddy and happy to just be back home with you that it took a few seconds before he noticed your silence, before he noticed the dark circles under your eyes and the glaze over your eyes like you weren’t fully focused, like you were disassociating.

“Oh baby,” he murmured, his voice softer and quieter as he raised his hand to gently cup your face, to let his thumb brush over the apple of your cheek as your body instinctively sagged against his touch.

“M’just a little tired,” you tried to wave him off, but this was Mat. This was Mat who wasn’t just your boyfriend but your best friend, the one who saw right through your bullshit and bad excuses. “I’m glad you’re home. I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he murmured, his lips twitching upwards before he leaned down to place a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. “And I’m glad I’m home too, can take care of my girl like she deserves.”

You sighed. “Mat—”

“Let me take care of you, baby,” he whispered, a glint in his eyes that made your heart race in your chest. “Please.”

“Just hold me.” You hated the way your voice cracked as you spoke. “I just really missed being in your arms.”

His grip on you instantly tightened as he brought you closer, as he wrapped his arms around you and hugged you close until your cheek was pressed against his chest, the smell of his hoodie so comforting and so him. It was overwhelming in the best way possible.

“Always,” he answered as he pressed another kiss along your hairline. “How about ordering from that Thai place you like?”

“I thought you hated it,” you mumbled into his shirt.

“I like some of it,” he argued weakly but you could hear the smile in his voice. “Tonight is your choice. Tomorrow we can order something obscene I like that will make the trainers cry.”

You laughed lightly, and the sound made his grin widened. “Deal.”

“Good, now go get changed into something comfy,” Mat murmured as he pulled you away from his chest, lightly pushing you in the direction of your shared bedroom. “M’gonna put on that show you like.”

“And you won’t get offended when I ogle Damon Salvatore?” You questioned, mostly teasing as you took a few steps backwards.

Mat rolled his eyes, but still smiled as he placed his hand over his heart. “Scout’s promise, baby.” He paused for a moment. “Even if I’m much hotter than him.”

“No doubt about it, baby.”

#mat barzal #nhl #new york islanders #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal x y/n #mat barzal fic #mat barzal one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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patrickcharlton-oshea-author · 1 year

Text

Waging War: An Age of Steam and Sorcery Novel. Chapter Seven.

The process for Warren’s implant went off without a hitch. He was transferred to a different bed by a pair of strong but gentle nurses, which flipped him onto his front and supported him comfortably. His face rested in a hole in the pillow, which combined with the drugs left him feeling like he was nestled in cotton wool.

A cold spray on the nape of his neck surprised him, Warren had been used to feeling nothing from the rest of his body. The sensation faded quickly as the numbing agent in the antiseptic got to work. Warren felt a weight press on the back of his neck and a pins and needles-like sensation spread through the area.

“Ok, the next part goes into your brain, so we’re going to need to monitor you closely for this bit,” the anesthesiologist explained. “The implant will be connecting to your neurons directly and people have reported a stinging in their limbs as it does. You can’t feel your extremities with the severed spine, but these pain signals will be coming from inside your brain. Sorry, I’d let you sleep through it if I could. I will be watching your pain levels though, and can up the dose if it starts to hurt.”

“If it means I get to feel something, I’ll take it,” Warren mumbled from his face hole. “Please get started.” Even behind the drugs he could feel the irritation beginning to bubble up.

“We did, five minutes ago,” the surgeon leaned under the bed to look Warren in the eyes. “We’re well past the point of no return. Your implant has bonded nicely with your spine and you should feel the first phantom pains about… now.”

The surgeon was true to his word, the pins and needles spread into the base of Warren’s skull and then swept through his brain. It felt like someone had jabbed an acupuncture needle into each and every nerve end in rapid succession, but only for a tiny fraction of a second. It was as though Warren had streaked through a poison ivy patch then dove into a pool of aloe. He felt his heart race as his fight or flight instinct kicked in but he could neither fight nor flee. All that was left was a seething rage and the unrequitable desire to crash tackle the surgeon.

“God. Damn. OW!” he spat. Whatever else he was going to say was lost as ALL his senses packed it in. No touch, taste, smell or hearing. Proprioception was right out. Balance went on holiday as well, leaving Warren with no sense of up or down. Slowly, everything faded back in, like someone was turning to volume knob on reality back up from zero.

As his sight came back, Warren found there were a couple of extra features in his vision. A row of icons floated in front of his face demanding his attention. As he was deciding what to do about them the surgeon spoke up again.

“All done. Nurse, he can be released back to the ward. Warren, you should be seeing an instruction manual for the implant,” the business-like tone came from somewhere behind Warren’s back. “Strike that, I know you can see it, because I can see what you see.”

“Doesn’t that violate the anti-sequestration laws?” Warren’s father asked, having arrived some time during his micro-blackout.

“No, this is medical equipment and can only read the output of the implant,” the surgeon explained. “We can’t inject impulses to control his body. This sort of thing is heavily regulated and anyone even suspected of puppeteering someone will be lucky if they ever see the light of day again.”

“Oh, well that’s fine then,” Mr MacGregor harrumphed. “When will my boy be able to get back to studying?”

Warren didn’t hear the response, the back and forth between the adults and his rising pain levels combined with his already heightened frustration to hide the rest of the conversation behind a red curtain. Amplifying this already agonising situation, he’d found he couldn’t move his face yet either so he couldn’t let anyone know how much pain he was in. He mentally shoved the icons in his vision to the side where they hovered like gnats in the corner of his vision and willed the one app he had available to open.

The Age Of Steam and Sorcery.

Warren’s world went white, the pain shut off and he found himself floating in a warm pearlescent void. The void wafted and swirled, giving the impression of clouds lit from an unknown source. Warren revelled in the comfort. For the first time in months he was completely pain free. He lifted his hand to his face, fascinated by his ability to do so, and found it to be stark white and featureless, glossy though not reflecting anything specific. He tried walking, but there was no ground to set his feet on. That didn’t stop him flailing his legs about from the sheer joy of being able to feel his legs.

With his anger supplanted by happiness at having a functional body, even if it wasn’t the one he was born in, Warren spun and twirled mid-void, poking himself and waving every limb he could. Eventually though, this began to become boring and he looked around for more stimulation.

“How do I play this game?” he wondered out loud. “Start? Open game? Begin? Alexa, play The Age of Steam and Sorcery on my implant?”

A gigantic billboard with a Steampunk motif emerged from the mists. It dwarfed Warren’s new body and the glow of the gas lamps that illuminate the words outshone the glow of the void.

Countdown to Launch: was written in massive gothic font and below it was a series of nixie tubes the size of Andre the Giant. The first four were dark, the remaining showed the numerals 22:12:05.

Tomorrow morning at… ten? Warren did the mental math. I can’t play until then. Fine, I’ll see what’s happening in the real world.

Real life returned in what cinematographers call an iris wipe. Beginning in the centre of his vision, rippling out to the edge in a perfect circle, the glowing void was replaced by a hospital scene filled with angry faces. Warren’s irritation returned in a heartbeat. What’ve they got to be mad about? I’m the one trapped in this body.

“You know we can see what you see, boy,” Warren’s father growled. “Why were you messing about with that game rather than reading the instruction manual like you were told?”

“Because you lot were arguing and not paying any attention to the one person in the room with a broken spine.” Warren raged. “You know, the person in constant agony who’s stuck immobile in a bed, never to play football ever again? Me, in other words?”

Warren’s mother looked stricken and whispered to the anaesthetist. “Can we increase his dose now? Let him sleep for a bit?”

The anaesthetist didn’t bother whispering. “Now that the implant has fully bonded with your nervous system, we don’t need drugs anymore Mrs MacGregor. Not for this, anyway.” He fiddled with a small tablet on his arm and Warren’s pain abated instantly. “With medical authorisation we can now turn off pain signals to the brain. It’s a lot more effective and has fewer side-effects.”

“Fine, not in pain anymore,” Warren grumbled loudly. “I still can’t move, I’m still covered in bandages and I’m sure have several internal injuries you’re not telling me about.”

The surgeon’s eyes widened briefly before his stoic expression returned. “How do you know about…? Never mind. Yes. You will be our guest for a bit longer, Warren. Until we are sure that you will not experience another internal bleed and that your other injuries are healed enough for you to go home.”

“Can I at least get some sleep?” Warren whined. “I’m tired.”

“Sleep boy,” his father huffed. “We will be expecting big things from you tomorrow though.” He turned to the anaesthetist. “You can do that, right?’

The anaesthetist nodded and Warren’s world faded to black.

The black wasn’t complete, however. The icons from his implant persisted and now there was a timer counting down over the one for The Age. Blinking in the corner of Warren’s pseudo-sight was the icon for a document, the instruction manual he’d ignored earlier. He perused the manual briefly, but most of it boiled down to “think about it and it will happen, if it doesn’t happen it’s because you don’t have the app or you don’t have signal”. Since he was in the hospital and in a VIP wing, there was little chance he’d ever be out of signal range and his family’s funds meant it was unlikely he’d be unable to access an app if he wanted to. One thing he couldn’t do, no matter how hard he thought about it, was speed up the timer though.

Even though the pain was gone, Warren didn’t have anything resembling a physical form as things stood. Rather than wait in the formless void with nothing to do but read like a nerd, he returned to the waiting screen of The Age Of Steam and Sorcery. At least there he had a body, of sorts. He found, after a while, that through concentration he could put his feet on something resembling a floor. He sat on that floor for a bit, then stood and paced for a while. He tried running, but the not-body avatar he was in just stumbled and he returned to floating when it fell. It was incredible having something akin to a body, but in the end it wasn’t HIS body and it was ultimately disappointing.

As the last seconds ticked down, Warren felt a flutter in his virtual stomach. He knew intellectually he couldn’t feel his real stomach, but the butterflies he felt didn’t seem to care. The moment the clock hit zero he was plunged into a pool of amber liquid, bubbles swirling around his body. He briefly imagined diving into a glass of beer before it crystalised into an icosahedron with every face showing a different race of fantasy creature. They were all variants of himself, but none interested him. Warren wanted nothing more than to be himself.

As though responding to his deepest wishes, the icosahedron spun to show him a man with his face, encased in shining full plate armour that somewhat resembled his football armour. Warren and the figure reached out and clasped each other by the forearm and nodded to each other in respect.

Frothy amber liquid swirled around Warren and the armoured figure as they merged into one, then Warren sat up in a fountain inside what looked like a cave.

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roll-da-credits · 3 years

Text

Overprotective - Hawks x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Request: hi ! if you don’t mind could i request something for hawks?? you can do it as a oneshot or hcs (which ever works for you). basically my idea was that the reader and him work together but reader gets injured. its not even that bad maybe just like a deep cut on their or something but people come to load them into the ambulance and hawks is just in protective birb mode. mans has his wings around them and is glaring at anyone near and reader is just like “pls i just need to get stitches then i’ll be fine dummy”. protective hawks just makes my heart go hnnnggghhh,,

A/n: fun fact of the day, protective Hawks also make my heart go S;DFJLASDFLJA;SDJFA, I love him sm, like he's such a bastard but he's an amazing bastard yk? I mean just look at how absolutely dumb and adorable he looks in the banner❤️ Anyways, thank you so much for the request and I hope you enjoy it!!!

🖤❤️🖤

“Hawks, the situation has gotten a little bit out of hand, they can use an extra hero out there.” One of Keigo’s assistants informed him over the phone.

Before he even replied, he flew quickly over to the site, “I’m already here. Who’s on duty right now?” Keigo released some of his feathers to rescue some civilians, and listen in on whatever ruckus was happening.

“Kamui Woods and H/n, but their quirks aren’t the best fo-” Keigo didn’t even let the woman behind the phone finished before quickly turning off his phone and sending even more of his feathers to scan the area for you.

If he was called in for backup, that meant you and Kamui Woods weren’t able to contain the villain very well. Or it could mean both of you were injured far beyond being able to defeat it. His mind raced trying to listen in on every corner of the danger zone.

The villain wasn’t exactly incredibly destructive or murderous, he was just a criminal with a rather pesky quirk. Being able to create spikes wherever his skin touched and on his hands, led to a lot of bystanders in the busy area getting injured, both Kamui Woods and you, were rather overwhelmed.

“Woods, rescue the civilians, I’ll try to ambush him.” From one of his feathers, he could hear your voice and pinpointed your location before swiftly flying over there.

His eyes landed on yours, and for a brief second, you faltered in your position, rather shocked at seeing Keigo there. This small shock led your ambush to completely failing, the man had enough time to react to your attack.

The spikes on his hands were directed to slash your chest, if it wasn’t for a red feather quickly pushing you back, your chest would’ve been a giant gash by now. Keigo flew down and quickly apprehended the man with his feathers quite easily. Making you slightly scoff behind him.

“Always got to show off huh?” he looked back at you with a small smirk, only for it to immediately falter when he saw your right hand on your shoulder. Blood dripping from your fingers.

“Birdie, I thought you completely dodged it?!” Keigo walked over to you eyes glued on the wound, wings rather puffed up from worry.

“He can extend his spikes you know?” Since Keigo was still looking pretty alarmed, you tried calming his nerves down, “Love, it's literally nothing. I get worse injuries all the time, it’ll probably take 2 stitches and that’s it. I am a bit tired from all the fucking running though.”

You said the last words in a more joking manner and started to head over to an ambulance to get your wounds treated and transported to a hospital to check for any further damage.

That was your plan, before Keigo suddenly picked you up from the ground, his wings taking flight immediately.

“Oi Keigo what the FUCK are you doing?!?!??!?” You yelled, being completely shocked at the fact that a second ago your feet touched the ground, now there was no ground to be seen.

“Who knows if the people in the ambulance were actually working with the thief.”

At this point you were flabbergasted, this man picked you off your feet just because of a deep cut in your SHOULDER, not even your legs, and didn’t want you to deal with paramedics because he was scared of them being the thief’s accomplices.

“You are literally making zero sense.” You let out an exasperated sigh knowing full well Keigo isn’t letting you go any time soon.

Finally arriving at the hospital, Keigo was literally on your tail the entire time. Even when going up to the desk to explain what happened to when you had to explain the circumstances you were in (those circumstances being you didn’t get to the paramedics on sight because of a certain hero).

When one of the nurses came to bring you to another room, Keigo followed once again.

“Excuse me, sir, we need to bring you to a different room to do a check-up on you.” There were a few scratches here and there from the previous fights before your skirmish with the villain. But he completely ignored the nurse. Only fluffing up his wings even more.

“Sir?” “Oh, I’m incredibly sorry, I’d like to say with my little birdie over there.” Keigo gestured towards you who’s being led to sit on a bed before getting stitches.

He came over to stand next to you and hold your hand in his.

“Babe, I’m literally a pro hero, I’ve gotten stitches more times than I can count. It's ok.” You tried reassuring him. Codeword: tried.

When the doctor came in with her tools, Keigo literally glared daggers at her. The room felt like it dropped a couple of degrees and you can feel the doctor getting slightly nervous from the dangerous glare of the rather intimidating hero.

Who wouldn’t be intimidated when an extremely popular hero’s lover was being treated by you?

“Ok no I’m not doing this, babe wait outside.” Keigo immediately looked at you with an offended expression. As if you just insulted him and all of his ancestors before him, “You’re literally intimidating the poor doctor, this will take about 15 minutes and then you can come back in.”

You kept a stern tone to him and he dejectedly, like a child after getting scolded by his mother, walked out the room. Leaving the ‘suspicious’ (at least to him) doctor and you alone.

15 minutes had passed and when the doctor left the room, she was immediately met with the menacing glares of the fastest hero, “They’re ok right?” The doctor stammered trying to answer him, “Uhhh yeah, yeah she’s fine. Its, it's not that deep.”

After answering she immediately paced away from Keigo who was already entering your room.

He took a seat beside your bed laid his head on the crook of your uninjured shoulder, wings lightly fluttering from the joy he was feeling. He had the biggest dopey smile you had ever seen.

“Your wings look really fluffy right now.” You remarked reaching out to caress some of his feathers. They were incredibly soft despite how dangerous of weapons they can be when he wanted them to.

“I was worried, am I not allowed to worry for my incredible birdie?” He cooed to you before wrapping his hands around your waist, peppering kisses all over your face. Causing you to giggle and lightly push him away.

“I’m a pro hero you know, I know when to ask for help.” You held up the feather necklace Keigo gave you, showing you technically could signal him to come to your aid any time if you needed to, “You don’t need to worry about me, pretty boy.”

The dopey smile somehow grew much more into a heartwarming one. He climbed onto the hospital bed, snuggling with you on it, was it slightly uncomfortable? Sure. But you wouldn’t have to stay here for that long anyway, so why not just have a little calming cuddle session.

Keigo, feeling your head on his chest, his hand tangling itself on your hair, and his other hand holding firmly on your waist, reminded himself. You will be okay. He doesn’t always need to baby you. You’re perfectly capable of doing things.

“Hey, birdie?” You hummed in reply, “Sorry for how weird I acted.” You snorted, weird was an understatement.

“It was cute seeing you overprotective though.” With that Keigo’s laughter filled your ears. Like a soft calming tune.

It was weirdly serene, bandages all over your left shoulder, the sun lightly setting, and an amazing man (bird? Man-bird?) in your arms.

#bnha #mha #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #hawks #keigo takami #hawks x you #keigo x you #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #keigo takami x reader #hawks x y/n #keigo takami x you #hawks one shot #hawks fic #hawks fanfic #hawks fluff #keigo fluff #hawks imagine

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mercurial-madhouse · 3 years

Text

Trigger Warning: Healing is painful, but there’s so much light on the other side if we’re strong enough to walk through the dark.

My hope in sharing my story is to help anyone who reads it find peace or healing, just as I always aim with my fiction. If it feels right to you to do so, I encourage you to reblog this. It is highly personal, but I choose to share it publicly.

************

This past Sunday, I received an email responding to my desire to withdraw from a fic fest. Instead of the simple “You have been removed from the fest” that I’d been expecting through an official channel from mods to a participant, this is the response I received. Please be aware, the following is painful.

***

We've removed you from the fest and will mark you down as not being welcome to participate in future fests. We show a great deal of compassion toward our writers, which is why we send reminders, answer any and all questions, and provide extensions when requested. There's a reason why our fest has one of the highest numbers of fics of any fest/challenge in the fandom - it's because we support our participating writers and do everything possible to assist them as they complete their fics.

However, once a writer has repeatedly failed to communicate and missed both a deadline and an extended deadline, it's clear that they do not have any respect for the fest, the mods, our time, or our own unique situations, as we don't have endless extra hours to track down participants in a fic fest. Several reminders on three different platforms, an extension, and requests for writers to simply let us know if they need more time does not demonstrate a lack of compassion in any capacity. We also showed a great deal of compassion by welcoming you with open arms into the [redacted] after you insulted the fest, insulted [redacted] fics, and made writers uncomfortable last year after signing up to beta their fics, all while pretending to support and uplift writers in the fandom just as you did in your email here.

Have a great week!

- [redacted] Mods

***

This email arrived right at the end of the night, just as I was lying down to sleep. I couldn’t read it all the way through. It elicited a trauma response in me. My heart started racing, my palms were sweaty, I was shaking, I felt sick to my stomach.

I went into fight/flight/freeze/fawn mode. My first response was to freeze. In order to escape the barrage of pain bombarding me, I simply dissociated and disconnected from my body. It allowed me to sleep, but barely. I deleted the email in a desperate attempt to pretend it didn’t exist.

The pain caught up with me twenty-four hours later. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs shrunk in around my heart. My whole body locked up. I couldn’t move. I knew that if I spoke, even to say ‘hello’ to someone, I’d start crying.

The moment I was alone in my room the tears came. The pain came, bursting through me. I sobbed uncontrollably, curled into myself on my bed, begging for the pain to stop, begging for a miracle, screaming internally for relief and to understand what I’d done to deserve this because I didn’t have the air for more than broken whispers.

I fell asleep whispering ‘I need a miracle’ over and over. The mantra blocked out all the disgusting thoughts that wanted to keep swirling through my head. This is it. This is the final proof that you don’t belong here. You never have. You never will. Run away, M. It’s over. You tried, you failed. You always do. You always will.

I fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion.

Grief is intense. These are the moments where we don’t think we’ll survive what we’re feeling. My love, whoever you are, if you are reading this, hear from me. The agony passed. I needed to feel that agony, to allow it to move through me and to give myself the space to feel it. Without diving off the deep end into what hurts, I wouldn’t have been able to find the inner peace to keep healing, to start to understand.

The residual pain is still there, even as I write this post. But it no longer overwhelms my senses. And by Tuesday morning, I’d been given insight into what was happening.

I experienced a trauma response because it mirrored mistreatment I first received in childhood from family and classmates alike and continued into my adult life. In full view of others, it was acknowledged as cruel even by my mother, who struggles with her own guilt because she never stood up for me. No one did.

So I internalized the mistreatment. I must deserve it if everyone else around me is ok with me being singled out like this? At first I spoke up for myself. But in the end I stopped speaking up for myself too. I had never healed this pain and here it was, coming back around again, forcing me to face it, to heal it once and for all.

I still do not know what exactly I may have said to cause these accusations that you see in the email. **I do not and will not deny them.** Even if my words were taken in a way I did not consciously intend, to deny that I said anything that caused someone else pain is to deny my own power AND to deny that everyone’s emotions are valid and worth digging into.

I have the power to inflict pain, just as I have the power to spread and share love and joy.

Whatever I said came from a place of pain, of believing I did not belong in this community. That I am not good enough or worthy enough to be here. A series of unfortunate but necessary events when I first entered this fandom completely disintegrated my core beliefs in my abilities as a writer, something I have always kept so close to my heart, and my belief that I had a place in this fandom.

I expect, as I look into my past patterns, that what I did was try to logic why I wasn’t allowed to belong. At the time, this fest was the only subset of the fandom I knew, I was so brand new. So I looked through all the prompts in the fest. I brought a scientific method view to answering the question: “What is it about the fics people write in this fandom am I unable/incapable of doing?”

This process allowed me to generalize everything I saw that I perceived as ‘I can’t do that, this is why I don’t belong here’. Consumed in my own doubt that I could measure up and write something worth reading, I dropped from the fest last year too. If I can’t contribute writing that’s worth reading, I could at least stick with what I do best, which is helping others be their best selves. I had signed up to beta, and I chose to cling to the only grasp of belonging I had, which was through beta’ing. I ended up beta’ing four fics last year for the fest. And, of course, each of them were (and still are) incredible fics. At the time, it was further proof to me of exactly what I can’t accomplish.

In all likelihood, these generalizations, stemming from a place of pain and jealousy because I wanted to write good fics too, came out in a personal conversation with someone, which they translated as a personal attack. It is valid. Whoever you are, your emotions are valid. It does not matter how I meant whatever I said, pain is what you felt. This person did not feel comfortable sharing that pain with me, so instead they turned to others and shared. My moment of vulnerability and pain then spread more pain.

Pain only comes from pain.

The response was to shadow ban me. In fact, I was never meant to find out about any of this. The pain this person shared was simply taken at face value and that was that.

So on my end, this decision showed up in the physical world this way: Suddenly all my asks went unanswered, people I tagged to share snippets and last lines and get to know more through ‘about me’ posts or who had once talked to me through DMs simply stopped speaking to me in a way that is only noticeable to the person being ignored. I thought I was going crazy. But there it was, right in front of me: absolute proof that I wasn’t good enough to be a part of this fandom.

Is anyone else beginning to see the cycle of pain?

I expect I continued this cycle right back, because the pain turned to bitterness. I’d been doing everything I could to support every author the best way I knew how, and this was what I got? The exact opposite?

I found out about this shadow ban and actual blocking around June of this year. An ask sent in by a friend for me, inquiring why I couldn’t reblog a post that’d been sent to me by someone else, finally gave me the answer that I’d been banned for the accusations you saw above.

Horrified, hurt, and unable to comprehend any of this except to know that I support every author no matter what they write, I sent an apology to the mods, trying to end this cycle the best I could without knowing any of the details of what had happened. There was nothing more I could do.

They thanked me for the apology, though as you can see from the email, it was never accepted. I do not say that as a judgement call, but simply as a statement of what happened. Everyone is entitled to accept or not accept in their own time and their own ways.

I have been healing so much since everything that occurred last year. And the more I dig in to this cycle, the more my heart goes out to the drafters of this email, to the person I hurt with my words who then turned to share it out of context with others, and to the people who shadow banned me in connection with this situation.

We attract to us what resonates with us. Like attracts like. Which means just as I’ve attracted the greatest friends to me, I have also attracted this pain, and conversely, these mods and that person attracted me to them.

Deep down, on some level we share the same core wounds. And the person who can really understand just how painful those wounds can be is someone who feels them too.

So this is my message to the mods of the above email, to those who have shadow banned me and want nothing to do with me, and to the original person I hurt with my words:

I am sorry for my part in this pain. I am sorry for causing pain and I apologize for it. You are loved. You are enough. You are doing a fantastic job. Your feelings are valid. Your hurt is valid. I don’t know what occurred that hurt you before I entered the fandom, but after finding out from others that an email like the one you sent above is ‘Oh that’s just how they are’ tells me something else happened to hurt you before I even arrived.

Your hurt then is valid too. Allow yourself to feel it and process it. Don’t let it consume you. Don’t let that hurt and fear of it happening again or believing that that’s how everyone is push away from you people who in fact love just what you love. If someone has a different belief from yours, don’t let it invalidate what is true for you. Believing internalized lies about myself only caused me pain. And we spread and create what we believe to be true, whether we consciously realize it or not.

So here, now, is my truth:

I choose to perpetuate love. I choose to spread love. I choose to understand my pain and the pain of others, to transmute it, and to heal it, instead of passing that pain on.

I choose compassion. Compassion for myself in making these mistakes, and compassion for those who have hurt me. I do not condone the email that was sent to me. No one deserves to be treated that way. I choose to focus beneath the visceral anger and lashing out, to focus on the agony beneath the words, and stop this cycle of pain.

I choose to belong in this fandom. I choose to support every author in this fandom and ensure no one ever feels not good enough. I choose to own my past mistakes and learn from them.

I choose trust. To trust that those who I truly hope will see this, will see it. I have no expectations of responses or outcomes or reactions. My only hope is that whoever will benefit from seeing this post will see it.

This is not a matter of right or wrong, bad or good, just or unjust. It is a situation of two parties in pain, triggered by the same triggers.

Looking back on that email, I’ve come to realize that half of the pain I felt when I received it was not my own. I felt the pain of the attack, sure, but I also felt the immense pain beneath those words. And I wish I could hug you. I acknowledge your pain and I acknowledge how painful it is because I know that pain myself. I also know that this pain isn’t you and it isn’t who you are.

So I choose to remember the mods I first met around this same time last year in this same email chain. Mods who were so kind and offered advice to a brand new writer even when she sent an email that had nothing to do with the fest and was still struggling to find her place in the fandom. I choose to remember how beautiful that kindness felt. I choose to remember how I was so grateful for that kindness that I shared my gratitude for these same mods in an email with with another fandom friend at the time. I am still grateful for you.

You are so loved. You are loved for being exactly who you are. This fandom is built upon love. A shared love of five incredibly talented lads who have brought so much joy and light when each and every one of us has needed it the most. Shine your light through the dark and believe with all your heart that you are not alone. You have support. I support you. Shine on. Don’t let anyone dim it.

#Being this vulnerable #is an act of courage #I never knew I had #I'm not fearless #I feel ready to vomit #I have no idea how this will be received #but I am sharing my truth #have courage to share your truth #the world needs you

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15-dogs · 4 years

Text

flustered |c.d.|

pairing: cedric diggory x reader (fem!reader)

summary: you’re cedric’s best friend and you realize you have feelings for him so you want to ask him to the yule ball !!

warnings: none

guide: (Y/N) = your name, (Y/L/N) = your last name

word count: 1949

One week. One week until the Yule Ball and you still hadn’t mustered up the courage to ask Cedric. It was a little bit pathetic in your opinion seeing as he was your best friend, but you just couldn’t do it.

A couple months prior, Cedric casually mentioned that he’d be entering the Triwizard Tournament. Naturally, you freaked out on him, begging him not to enter. Every single moment of every single day you would hound him about it, saying you couldn’t see him risk his life to prove something. Fortunately, he relented and decided not to put his name in.

However, what he said to you that night after your wave of relief had struck worry in your heart: “Merlin, (Y/N), if I didn’t know any better I’d say you fancy me.”

His teasing was like a slap in the face. How could you not have noticed before? You were mad about the boy! But instead of admitting that to him and giving him the satisfaction, you simply let out a nervous laugh.

It was a known fact to all of your friends that you got easily flustered. An over-talker, if you will. Like in your 2nd year you had fallen madly in love with the Head Boy. So one day when you got lost on your way to classes, he offered to help you and you told him that you got new shoes that you were almost too excited to break in and you were really happy with the uniform’s choice in footwear and what brand are these anyway? Needless to say, it wasn’t your proudest moment.

That fear was the reason why you were absolutely not excited in any way, shape, or form to sit with Cedric during History of Magic. Your heart pounded in your chest, increasing speed as you settled in next to him.

“What took you so long?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you all day!” You rolled your eyes at him as you fished your parchment from your bag.

“One class, Cedric. It was one class that we didn’t have together.”

“Your point being?”

A smirk tugged at your lips as you turned to look at him, but his close proximity to your face had your breath catching in your throat. You clenched your jaw, hoping not to say something stupid. Unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky.

“Well, you see, before I had Divination prior to this― a class which you don’t have― and that is about 45 minutes long on Mondays. On Wednesdays, however, that is quite the different story! I have a double then so-”

“Do I make you nervous?”

Your body froze. Why couldn’t you be quiet for once? You slowly turned your head towards Cedric who eyed you lazily, his chin resting in his palm, a grin on his face. You internally groaned at his handsomeness, scolding yourself for not just telling him straight out how you felt.

Instead, you cleared your throat and said, “What would give you the impression?”

Cedric chuckled and sat up, shaking his head. “Nothing, love, nothing.”

Only five more days and you still hadn’t said a word about the Yule Ball to Cedric. No, rather than risking you running your mouth at him again, you had taken to avoiding him and you did it like a champ. Switching seats in classes, picking up extra credit assignments, eating your meals in the kitchens. It was all fine and dandy until Cedric picked up on it by the second day; and you really thought that you were in the clear.

You spoke to Professor McGonagall about an essay that you didn’t do quite well on after class, assuming that Cedric had filed out with the rest of the group.

“I think that you could use some extra help,” McGonagall claimed. She looked over your shoulder, waving someone on from behind you. You wished you hadn’t turned around. “Mr. Diggory is one of my top students and I’m sure that he’d be willing to provide tutoring to you, wouldn’t you, Mr. Diggory?”

Cedric nodded profusely. “Absolutely, professor. You know, with classes over for the day, we can get started now. Do you mind if Miss (Y/L/N) and I use the classroom, professor?”

“I’m actually busy!” you practically shouted. McGonagall jumped while Cedric eyed you with confusion, causing you to cringe. “Sorry, I, um, am helping Professor Trelawney with some of her younger students today. Maybe another time.”

Your eyes glued to the floor as you scurried from the room, blocking out Cedric’s cries after you. It wasn’t until you made it to Trelawney’s room that you felt like you could breathe again.

“Three days!” your friend Beatrice reminded you. “If I have to see you pine over Diggory three more days then I might as well lose it. Ship me off to Azkaban!”

“Be quiet, would you!” you whispered hotly, tugging at her robe sleeve. “Anyone could hear you!”

“Merlin, that would be a miracle! Then someone could solve this for you― they could just tell the boy that you fancy him instead of going back and forth on an obvious decision.”

You scoffed. “Obvious decision? And what would that be?”

“Are you being thick on purpose? Just tell him how you feel! Poor boy is mad about you anyway.” You stopped Beatrice midstride.

“Mad about me? Really?” Rings of blush formed on your cheeks. “What makes you think so?”

“He only really listens to you. Do you think if I asked him not to enter the tournament that he would’ve listened? Absolutely not!”

You scuffed your heeled feet on the stone tiling. “Yeah, but I’m persuasive. I haven’t known him half as long as you have.”

Beatrice moved her hands erratically to emphasize her words. “That’s exactly my point! Diggory has been friends with you for what? 3 years, maybe? And he acts like he’s known you your whole life. Don’t stand here and pretend that the boy doesn’t like you even a little.”

Your heart swelled. Maybe Beatrice had a point. Even if he did like you, you were still nervous about asking him to the ball. Beatrice seemed to sense that uncertainty in you and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Worst he’ll do is say no. And if he does say no, pretend like you were asking him as a friend.”

Ah, Beatrice. Always with the sage wisdom.

Her words were the reason that you darted into the Hufflepuff common room in hopes of spotting a familiar mop of blond curls. However, he was nowhere to be seen. You huffed, exiting the common room. As soon as you stepped out, you heard voices down the hall. You hated eavesdropping but you felt as if your feet were bolted the floor, leaving you no choice but to listen.

“I know why you’re so nervous around me,” Cedric’s voice sounded, echoing all around you.

“Why’s that?” an unfamiliar girl’s voice replied.

“You fancy me, don’t you?”

“I...what?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You felt as if you were going to be sick. Every part of your body screamed for you to run but you still couldn’t move.

“I fancy you, too,” admitted Cedric. “Would you go to the ball with me?”

Hot tears pooled in your eyes and you finally were able to pull yourself away, darting back into the common room. You marched up the stairs to your dorm, cheeks turning red from embarrassment at all the eyes on you. Once you made it to your bed, you drew the curtains, reprimanding yourself for being so foolish to think Cedric Diggory would ever like you back.

The Yule Ball was tomorrow and you weren’t going. Not with Cedric, not with your friends, not by your lonesome. You just wouldn’t do it. You didn’t think you could bear the sight of Cedric with another girl. It was unfair to him, really, because you should be happy for him― he was your friend! But you knew it would hurt too much which is why you were in a rotten mood for the day.

“Professor McGonagall, I can work on my essay myself-” you begged. McGonagall tutted, shaking her head.

“Miss (Y/L/N), you don’t get that option anymore. Mr. Diggory and yourself will be working together in my classroom now. I will be in my office if you need me but I expect you two to be working. If this essay is not finished by tonight, you won’t receive a grade for it.”

Your eyes trailed after McGonagall as she left the room, your gaze locking on Cedric at the back. You felt a pit form in your stomach and your mind began to race for an excuse but there was no point; you couldn’t risk failing an essay just because you had a stupidly huge crush on your best friend.

“Hi-”

You barely managed to get your words before Cedric blurted, “I know why you’re so nervous around me!”

You blinked in shock. Wait, didn’t Cedric say that to the girl last night? You pushed down that memory, not wanting to dredge up your sorrows in front of the person who caused them. Everything that was going on was a whole new range of terrible. So instead of focusing on how awful and anxious you felt, you cleared your throat and asked, “Why’s that?”

Way to avoid the topic, you scolded yourself.

You swore you saw Cedric let out a sigh of relief. He sucked in a sharp breath, exhaling as if he were trying to calm himself down.

“You fancy me, don’t you?”

Nope, time to run. In fight or flight, you were almost always flight. As you ran towards the door and pushed past Cedric, your body went rigid recalling the memory from two nights ago. You slowly turned around, cocking your hip as you studied the boy in front of you.

“Okay, what is this? Some sort of prank?” you hissed. Now it was Cedric’s turn to be shocked.

“Pardon?”

“I heard you with some girl the other night saying the exact same thing. I’m not a practice dummy, Cedric. You could really hurt someone’s feelings.”

“You heard me?”

“Not by choice,” you grumbled.

“I was practicing asking you out! Cho was pretending to be you.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, and next thing you’ll be saying is you want to take me to the Yule Ball, too.”

“Yes!” he exclaimed.

He walked up to you so your faces were only inches apart. You held your breath at the closeness, feeling his own breath fan over your face. The way he smelled drove you absolutely crazy: it was like fresh laundry and grass stains, like vanilla and sandalwood. It overloaded your senses but you feigned calm, acting like it didn’t have you weak in the knees.

“You know, (Y/N),” he whispered, “I get nervous around you, too.”

Before you could respond, Cedric leaned in to place a chaste kiss against your lips. Your eyes were wide with shock. As Cedric pulled away, he began to laugh at your expression.

“Data shows that first kisses typically happen on the first date, but it never gets any more heated than a peck, really, but we haven’t even been on a-”

Cedric silenced your anxious chatter with another kiss and your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation. You finally relaxed into his arms, your own hands snaking around the back of his neck. When he pulled away, you met his eyes with a soft smile.

“Are you a little less nervous now?” he asked. You bit your lip in thought, tilting your head.

“One more for good measure?”

#cedric diggory #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x reader #oneshot #harry potter #cedric diggory imagine #harry potter imagine #cedric diggory oneshot

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starsuh · 3 years

Text

first snow | dsc

featuring. dong sicheng x reader | 1.4k

summary. sicheng might hate the winter season but he definitely doesn't hate you... well, when you aren't trying to prove to him that the cold weather isn't that bad, at least.

genre. fluff | f2l

warnings. none.

if there was anything that dong sicheng hated more than being forced out of bed, it was skinship. hand holding, back hugging — the thought of his personal space being invaded in such a way often activated his fight or flight senses (in the case of his friends, it was more often than not the former).

but when you rested your head on his shoulder on the bus ride home, his heart fluttered in such a way that was both intimidatingly good and unhealthily bad. and such a change worried the man who relied on stability and people staying the way they were and places staying the way they used to be.

however, with you, he's begun not to mind it, counting down the seconds until classes dismissed and he'd be able to meet you once more at the same dilapidated bus stop where he'd first bumped into you.

even as autumn turned to winter, he found that all he could muster a single thought towards was you excitedly pressing your face against the glass, breath fogging the surface. "it's finally snowing," you said, with a smile that could have melted any newly lain layer of ice.

his brow raised, eyes racing across the landscape in an attempt to see what exactly had you so utterly transfixed. "is that... supposed to be a good thing?" you pouted as if the answer was obvious. it wasn't. "snow's so hard to walk through, and it's fucking freezing."

"that's why i always bring extra scarfs for dumbasses who don't think about the weather," you rummaged through your backpack for the offending bright yellow fabric. "i knitted it myself, by the way, so you're not allowed to complain about how neon it is."

sicheng forced an overly wide smile and thanked you with a voice that could only be described as deadpan.

ahead, the bus driver had pressed on the breaks, people furrowing around the pair as they tried to leave in both an orderly yet harried fashion. he grabbed your hand to help you up, finally deigning to wrap the scarf around his neck when he felt the sharp draft of winter's breath emanating from the newly-opened door.

somehow, from the twenty minute ride between your university to the off-campus dorms, the temperature had dropped to such lows that sicheng couldn't stave off a single shiver. you, however, remained unaffected — even bouncing on the backs of your boot-covered heels as you took in the whitened sky in an almost awe. perhaps it was your boundless energy that kept you warm. sicheng couldn't be bothered to do anything more than bury his face in your scarf though. it smelt like lemons, he noted, like your shampoo.

"we can't not go to the park today," you held your hands together as if already predicting sicheng's incoming complaints. "like, yeah, we could get hypothermia, but is that not completely worth the risk?"

sicheng hummed, placing a finger to his chin. "you're telling me to choose between suffering with an extra dash of suffering or the comfort of a heated dorm?" he marched towards the steps without fanfare, calling out his goodbyes from behind his shoulder. "see you tomorrow... or in the hospital."

you grabbed onto his shoulder with a pout. "by accepting my bribe," you nodded towards the scarf still tightly snug against his neck. "you have also accepted the condition of going on a first snowfall park date with me."

he was about to throw said 'bribe' at your face before his ape brain began to process the full extent of your demand. date? while labels had never been established nor discussed, it was clear without words that the connection between the two of you was one that pertained to being more than just friends. or, at least, sicheng believed (and hoped) it to be as such.

he chewed his lip before sighing. "i'm only going with you to make sure you don't slip on ice and break your ass."

you grabbed his arm and excitedly tugged him towards the tree-lined path leading to the park before he could change his mind.

"come on," you crossed your arms. "you can't tell me you can't see how beautiful the world is right now."

he gave you a blank stare.

"there has to at least be one thing you like," you sighed, placing your hands on his shoulders and turning him towards the gathering of whitened trees. "tell me what you see."

he huffed and a white cloud formed from the sharp exhale. "fine, i see..." his eyes narrowed, gazing across the scene. "i see snow falling so deeply that even if you sweep it away-" he kicked his foot forward to prove his point "-it still piles up."

he held a hand to shield his eyes as he glanced upwards. "also, it's too... radiant. like the sunlight is reflecting on the whites of the snow." without thinking, he turned to you. "you're the only good thing about this place."

snowflakes that once fell down in great heaps now paused mid-air as time came to a halt. time, with its own flaws and eccentricities, could not be commanded by a single wind nor a single boy rooted in place in shock of the words leaving his lips.

unsure was he of your stuttering words and wringing hands, whether to blame the cold or his sudden confession. all he knew was that you hadn’t run yet, and time would not wait for him just as the summer refused to stay when he had asked it.

it seemed that once sicheng began he couldn't stop. he chuckled whilst gently prying your hands from your burning skin. "i've been pretty obvious about my feelings, right?"

you huffed, stomping against the snow almost child-like. "this is so unfair, i literally brought you here so that i could confess and now you're stealing my thunder." the tilt of your lips betrayed your faux disappointment.

he smiled, placing your hands around his neck and his around your waist. "i'd still like to hear your confession." you glared at him, unimpressed. he gulped. "i mean, if you don't mind."

"i think..." you hesitated, "i think this would be a better way to explain my feelings than any confession could."

you leaned in to kiss him when you heard the loud snap of a branch above your heads breaking under the weight of the snowfall. the cold matter fell right atop sicheng's head, too distracted by your approaching form to notice and move away fast enough.

you burst out laughing as he furiously tried to swipe the snow from his hair. his whining complaints only made you laugh harder, your lungs demanding air and your face beginning to ache. "this is why i hate snow days," he pouted, and you couldn't help the hand that reached out to pinch his reddening cheeks just as you couldn’t help the heart that had begun to beat when you had first met him that summer day.

his self-proclaimed apprehension to winter reminded you of a frosted river. seemingly stagnant on the surface yet proceeding to flow beneath the thin layer of ice awaiting the gentle touch of a sun to reveal its inner depths.

you’d blame gravity, you thought, as your lips fell towards his in a touch just as gentle. "do you still hate it?"

his eyes widened, his fingers ghosting over where your lips had just been. he shook his head, centering himself. no way was he going to give you the upper hand... was what he had proclaimed until he had seen your star-filled eyes gazing back at his.

"i don't know," he shrugged, "you might need to do that again for me to make up my mind."

and so you did. again and again, until sicheng forgot about the cold seeping in through the bright yellow scarf you had given him and the harsh winter winds that bit at his ears and nape. again, until sicheng forgot about every single thing he had once hated about winter. winter was your laughter ringing in his ears as he tripped against ice. winter was snowmen and snow-angels made beside your grinning figure. winter was your hands warm against his own as he finally called you his. winter was you, and that was all he had ever needed.

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moxfirefly · 4 years

Text

Video calls and confessions

Part 2

Rated Explicit (18+)

Got around to that part teo for this one shot.

Hellboy/Cam!Girl

____________________

The world going to shit wasn’t exactly how’d you planned out your Friday afternoon. This morning you had woken up with enthusiasm and a desire to treat yourself.

You’d gone out to the city, had your nails done, grabbed an obscenely priced coffee and on your way had stumbled on a museum.

A little culture never hurt nobody.

For Christ sake it was a free entry day too.

So why then, as you admired priceless art and sculptures had literal hell descended upon the evening?

Creatures. Actual monsters. The screams of the public deafening.

That had happened about half an hour ago. In your haste you had thanked you fight or flight mode to quick into flight. The shaking in your body had cause you to run into one of the exhibit rooms most cluttered with random ‘junk’ whatever this art installation had gone for it was surely not for somebody to duck behind for safety.

You checked your phone. The news was reporting the attack of the art museum. Authorities had been sent as well as the B.P.R.D...

That made you pause and clutch your phone.

If the bureau was on its way then that meant Hellboy was too.

The very notion of possibly seeing him in the flesh made your heart skip a few beats. The two of you had been communicating on and off for a while now since the private shows had started. You knew mixing work and pleasure wasn’t smart but fuck, you had it bad for this guy.

There was a sense of relief washing over you. He’d be here, he’d take care of this mess. Maybe you’d finally see him and not through a computer screen. You knew things had escalated with him although neither of you had really properly addressed it.

“Please whatever is up there, if I survive this I’m fucking telling him I’m in love with him” You whispered to yourself. This possibly couldn’t be your last day on earth.

Something screeching and something akin to a human scream startled you. You hugged your knees closer and tried not to breath loudly. Gunshots and more screams could be heard.

Then something came crashing into the installation where you were hiding. Your scream was imposible to hold in. The creature was screeching so loudly, a sound that left your ears ringing.

Adrenaline made you run out as fast as you humanly could. You heard the great strides it took to catch up to you. This was it wasn’t it? You were gonna die?

Your legs kept pushing you forward even as your muscles burned with pain. Your eyes hurt from crying and your throat felt like it was sandpaper. Something like a claw reaching for your hair made you close your eyes. There was no way you wanted to see how this ended for you.

Two shots.

Loud and so very clear, the sound coming out of left field made you trip and fall. The screening fortunately had stopped.

“Miss?! You’re safe! Hey! You gotta get out of here now!” That voice you knew all to well. You looked up and saw red and a stone hand.

“R-red...” Your voice was small, a sob catching in your throat.

“Y/N!?” He was shocked, eyes wide as he knelt in front of you.

You weren’t sure how your body moved or if he moved you but somehow you’d ended up with your arms around him sobbing into his neck. Hellboy held you tightly, whispering that you were safe, an array of cusses slipped out as he breathed heavily.

The knowledge that you were here, if he’d been a millisecond too late, all crashed down on him as he picked you up and carried you to safety.

You could’ve died, was all that ran through his head.

You’re alive, was all that ran through yours.

_______________

One helicopter ride, a medical exam and a shower later you found yourself at the home base of the B.P.R.D. A nice young woman by the name of Alice had loaned you some clothes and had taken you to Hellboy’s room to wait. A debriefing was happening and all you could do was sit tight.

You resolved to canceling all your cam shows for the week stating you had fallen terribly ill. There was no way you could work, your hands were still shaking as you typed out the post and notified your one on one shows. It felt like hours as you sat on the couch, you had looked around at his room, seeing and array of personal items that made up his personality.

Such a big part of you often dreamt about this but your nerves had you glued to your spot.

The door opened and Hellboy came barreling in like a tornado. You flinched and bit too hard on your already chewed off nail, so much for that manicure.

“I’m so sorry, I wanted to leave that stupid meeting but it’s fucking mandatory because Daimio thinks it’s necessary, asshole that guy I tell ya-“ He took in your state, the still slight tremble in your hands, the few scrapes here and there. You looked small and scared and it absolutely destroyed him.

In his silence he made his way towards the coffee table and sat in front of you. “You know I often fantasized what it be like to see you in the flesh, this wasn’t how it usually went I promise” He smiled and for the first time in this piss filled day, so did you.

“How would it go?” You asked softly.

“Some mood light, a little wine maybe some music” The two of you chuckled. Your chuckles quickly dissolved in you trying to hold back your tears.

You were almost killed tonight, the shock would take some time to subside. “Hey hey kid, it’s ok, I’ve got you. Ain’t nothing gonna happen to you on my watch” Hellboy’s flesh hand rested on your knees.

You leaned forward and rested your forehead on his shoulder. “...When I read you guys were sent out, I really got excited that I’d finally see you” You felt his flesh hand stroke your hair.

“I’m in love with you” You blurted out, his hand going to still. “I said, if I’m making it out of this alive I’m telling him, so I’m telling you...” You looked up at him, e/c meeting his golden ones.

“I-Im not dancing around this no more, I’m tired of pretending that what’s been going on isn’t just some work thing that I do, fuck, I love you I really do and I think you do too” Your mouth want dry again, the scratchy sensation making you swallow.

Hellboy searched out your eyes, something in his head was going a mile a minute. Was he searching for a lie? Something disingenuous?

That all died when he lunged forward and kissed you.

A kiss that truly and utterly left no worry.

You were kissing Hellboy. You were gripping Hellboy by the scruff of his shirt. The way his lips molded against yours, the abnormal warmth to them, the softness to them, the roughness of his scruff.

Pulling back for air felt obligated but he’d insisted by pressing the stumps of his horns against your forehead. “Wow...that’s...so much better than I could’ve imagined” He was star struck in a way and it honest to god made you laugh.

The days events took a back seat for now you wanted to take in the being before you. You scanned everything you normally did while on cam with him. Your hands explored his face, running across scars and hair.

Then you remembered what lay to his right and your heart raced.

You gripped his stone hand, fascinated by the texture of stone, how he held your hand with so much regard to his strength. The patterns, the markings everything has you entranced.

“Extraordinary” Was all you could muster as you rubbed on what would be the inside f his wrist. “I’m sorry, is this weirding you out?” You looked at Hellboy only to find him grinning. “Having a beautiful girl touch me? Yes it’s completely weirding me out” He mocked and you couldn’t help but playfully shove him.

“God I need a beer, can we...?” He was leaning over toward the mini fridge next to the couch and pulling said drinks out. “Read my mind, beautiful” He offered one towards you.

This morning you were going about a normal routine, and now after a near death experience you were in the room of a man you had been falling in love with for months. The twist and turns of life.

Around round 3 you’d excused yourself to use the bathroom. As you washed your hands and saw your normal pristine face a little worn down from the stressful events you frowned.

But there you stood in Hellboy’s bathroom. Surrounded by things all him. The tips of your fingers ran through a brush of his. This was a reality right now.

You stepped out and caught him shrugging off his coat. Busying your thumbnail again at your teeth you watched his now visible arms flex with the movements.

“All good?” He smiled leaning against the dresser.

There was a pregnant pause in which the two of you merely just ogled one another from across the bed.

You moved first.

You walked over the bed and stood on it, you reached out a hand that he took without hesitation and with the extra height from the bed you met in a heated kiss face to face. You wrapped your arms around his neck, you felt his around your hips.

In a wordless haste you yanked at his black T-shirt and busied yourself with taking off yours. He watched mesmerized, as always, the revealing of your skin.

The image before you though, god you wanted to scream.

Hellboy undoing his belt and swiftly yanking the whole thing out of the belt loops without breaking eye contact. Off were your pants, and on was him as he took you down on the bed.

It was a haze, breathless kisses and chants of desire. He one handed the button of your jeans and his own. The brief separation to take the offending items off had the two of you giggling almost. In record time he was back on you and you welcomed it with a ferocity to your kisses. Tongue slipping into his mouth, you swallowed a groan of his that vibrated all the way to your cunt.

He was here, you were here. Physically.

You grinned as he trailed kisses over both your covered breast. “Take-fuck-take it off please, now right now” You felt the air leave your lungs when he simply broke the bra in half and met his reward, two beautifully round breasts he had craved more than any meal. Hellboy pressed his face between them and inhaled before leaving a series of bites and marks. Each time he bit down your raised your hips in search of friction.

The heaviness in the air, the warmth of him lapping and sucking at your breast. The heated tongue wrapping around a nipple. Hellboy devoured you, and if your breast had him like this...

“Baby please, wanna touch you too” Your hands ran down his back, sharp nails leaving a path. Hellboy shuddered as he left a nipple with a loud pop. “Go on, I’m all yours” That very comment sent a gush of heat and you bit your lip to hold a moan in.

You nudged him to lay on his back and you climbed on top of him. Hands running over your body, the feeling of that stone hand gently cupping your rear was enough to make you grind down on him with purpose.

“I promised you something every time we spoke, you remember what that was?” You rubbed yourself on him as you began to trail down his body. Hellboy’s eyes were fogged with lust. “Oh, you remember” You kissed his stomach, nails scratching his sides before hooking into the waistband of his underwear.

He was going to have a stroke.

Hellboy watched you slide his underwear down. Eyes hungry and mouth engulfing his cock. He bucked up without meaning to but you caught most of the onslaught by closing up your throat. A minor choke and you were back on track.

Fuck he was big and thick, you did your best swallowing as much as possible before settling the rest with your hand to jerk. The gut punched groan that left him egging you on. He saw your head bob, the way your lips stretched around his length, the blissed out look as you sucked earnestly. “Shit shit, you look beautiful” Hellboy reached a left hand across your cheek.

Letting him go with a breathy inhale, spit on your chin you jerked him lazily.

He was putting this look away for a rainy day. You had no right looking so utterly debauched and perfect.

“C’mere and kiss me, beautiful” Hellboy whispered softly and you obeyed crawling on him to meet him in a sensual slow lip lock.

Underwear gone, or more so also ripped apart. You were now on top of him about to guide his cock into your drenched hole. The initial burn was actually delicious, that breach between pain and pleasure sending a delightful shock through your body. Once fully seated on him you reveled in stretch and burn. “God this is, fuck I-“ You moaned as you tested with a sway of your hips, he was hitting your spot perfectly. You rested your hands on his chest and he gripped your waist.

Hellboy was gone, the sight of you riding him, lost in your pleasure caused by him nevertheless. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever see. Lost to it all you fell forwards, burying your face in his neck. Your impending release had you stuttering your hips. “I got you baby, I got you” He muttered against your ear. You moaned as he held you, hips pistoning upwards to drive that orgasm out of you.

It crashed something fierce, running all over your body and coming out as a scream against his neck. You felt limp as a noodle but held onto him as he fucked his way through yours. When he came he yanked another orgasm out of you along with his.

The two of you laid there, a mess of limbs clutching at each other. Hearts racing, lungs trying to catch up.

Exhaustion won. You fell a sleep on Hellboy, still inside of you, his mouth against your temple.

There was no turning back now.

#hellboy #hellboy x fem!reader #hellboy x reader insert #hellboy 2019 #hellboy x reader #female reader insert #reader insert #sequel fic #n*fw

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twifeordeath · 3 years

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Twife or Death: Lesbian Twilight Chapter 22

Updated as of (3-31-2021) (previous) (all chapters)

All rights belong to Stephenie Meyer, and this project is non-profit and fan entertainment.

—————————–

22. HIDE AND SEEK

“What was it?” I’d lost control of my voice — it was flat, uncaring.

Jasper stared at me. I kept my expression vacant and waited. Her eyes flickered between Alice’s face and mine, feeling the chaos. I knew what Alice had seen.

A peaceful atmosphere settled around me. I didn’t fight it. I used it to keep my emotions under control.

Alice recovered, too. Her face snapped back to its normal expression.

“Nothing,” she said, her voice amazingly calm and convincing. “Just the same room as before.” She looked at me, focusing for the first time. “Did you want breakfast?”

“I’ll eat at the airport.” I was calm, too. Almost like I was borrowing Jasper’s extra sense, I could feel Alice’s well-concealed desperation to get me out of the room, so that she could be alone with her. So she could tell her that they were doing something wrong, that they were going to fail.

Alice was still focused on me.

“Is your mother all right?”

I had to swallow back a throatful of bile. I could only follow the script I’d planned earlier.

“My mom was worried,” I said in a monotone voice. “She wanted to come home. It’s okay. I convinced her to stay in Florida for now.”

“That’s good.”

“Yes,” I agreed robotically.

I turned and walked slowly to the bedroom, feeling their eyes following the whole way. I shut the door behind me, and then I did what I could. I showered and got dressed in clothes that fit me. I dug through the duffel bag until I found my sock full of money—I emptied it into my pocket.

I stood there for a minute, staring at nothing, trying to think of things I was allowed to think about. I came up with one idea.

I knelt by the little bedside table and opened the top drawer. Underneath the complimentary copy of the Bible, there was a stash of stationery and a pen. I took a sheet of paper and an envelope out of the drawer.

“Edythe,” My hand was shaking.

I love you.

Sorry—again. So sorry.

She has my mom, and I have to try. I know it may not work. I am so very, very sorry.

Don’t be mad at Alice and Jasper. If I get away from them it will be a miracle. Tell them thank you for me. Alice especially.

And please, please don’t come after her. That’s what she wants. I can’t stand it if anyone else has to be hurt because of me, especially you. Please, this is the only thing I can ask you now. For me.

I’m not sorry that I met you. I’ll never be sorry that I love you.

Forgive me.

Bella.

But before I could put any of those words on the page, I felt a scream bubble up in my throat. All the emotions I’d been trying to repress- I tried to smother it with my hands but in the quiet hotel room it was like a gunshot. Alice was instantly by my side.

“Bella, what’s wrong?” Her eyes were wild, darting around the room, like she was trying to find both the danger present in this moment as well as the potential dangers in the future. Jasper stood at the door, hesitating.

And then it all came out. The threats, the fact that I never even got to talk to my mom at all, Jamie threatening to kill her if I didn’t come alone- Jasper was on my other side now, a steady presence. I tried to focus on her hand on my shoulder, tried to tie my attention to my body and not my anxieties- but it was just too much.

The room started to darken- I couldn’t get enough breath- my heart was beating so hard I was surprised it hadn’t given out yet- I just couldn’t breathe-

A wave of darkness dragged me under, and I knew no more.

I resurfaced in fits and starts, my whole body aching. It felt like I’d been run over by a truck. No, a train. It hurt to breathe, but I was breathing. So that was a start. I felt a cool hand in mine, a soft stream of steady comfort flowing into my chest. Jasper.

“How-” I croaked, then started coughing. A strong arm was around my shoulders, holding me up, and someone held a bottle of water to my lips. I drank, gratefully, then finally opened my eyes. We were in a car.

I tried again. “How long was I out?” This time at least I made it through the whole sentence.

“Only an hour. We’re halfway to your mother’s house.” Alice replied, looking distracted.

“But-”

“We will get out ten blocks away. Just in case someone’s watching the house.” Jasper says, squeezing my hand.

“The others will be arriving soon, as soon as they can.” I didn’t know if she was keeping it vague for my sake or because she wasn’t sure herself.

Jasper looked over at Alice when she didn’t continue, then back at me. “We have a plan. We just need to make sure Jamie suspects as little as possible. I won’t sugar coat this Bella. You might get hurt. But neither you or your mom will be in serious danger. Here.”

She handed me one of the slim silver phones. “Before you enter the house, call Alice. She’s on speed dial one. She will add Carine to the call, and you can tuck the phone into the inside pocket of this jacket.”

She patted the front of an unfamiliar jacket I was now wearing. I nodded numbly. “That way we can hear everything that’s happening, and we know when to make our move. We will be right behind you Bella, I swear. We won’t let you or your mother get hurt. Do you believe me?”

“I- I believe you.” It came out shaky and not very confident, but it seemed to be enough.

“The Black pack and Esme are keeping an eye on Charlie. Julie insisted on coming with Edythe and the others on the flight.”

“Julie’s coming?” I felt a strange kind of lightness in my chest, like the aftershock of me finding out I would see Edythe soon. I missed Julie. I hadn’t gotten to see her in too long.

“Yes.” There was an unfamiliar undertone to Jasper’s voice, almost- amusement? No, pride? I didn’t know.

“They’ve landed.” Alice said, her eyes still focused on something neither one of us could see. “They’ll be ten minutes behind us. They’re going directly to the studio.”

“Jasper, you can let go now.” She turned to me with a question in her eyes. I just took a deep breath and nodded. She let go of my hand and slowly, the distant buzz of panic started to turn into a dull roar.

We turned onto a familiar street. One of them must’ve been keeping an eye on the road because Alice takes out her phone and Jasper looks down at mine. I’m sure holding down one number isn’t hard, but my hands are shaking so much I barely trust myself to do even that.

There’s a small crunch and then Jasper tucks the phone into the hidden pocket of the jacket. When I look up at her, confused, she gives me a small, slightly feral smile.

“Broke the end call button. So you can’t accidentally hang up on us.”

I feel my lips tug into what is no doubt a very bad imitation of her smile. She pats my head, but it doesn’t feel condescending. It feels comforting. I guess this is her way of saying she cares.

And then, too soon, they both stepped out of the car. Alice leaned forward to press a kiss to my forehead. I tried not to cry.

“You are strong Bella. And remember, we are right behind you.” Something in her eyes blazed, and I felt it light a spark deep inside of me. I could do this. I had to do this. Then the doors closed and I was alone again.

“Hey, what was the number?”

The cabbie’s question startled me so hard I flinched. The fear I’d tamped down for a few minutes took control again.

“Fifty-eight twenty-one.” My voice sounded strangled. The cabbie looked at me like she was nervous.

“Here we are, then.” She was anxious to get me out of her car, probably hoping I wouldn’t ask for change.

“Thank you,” I whispered. There was no need to be afraid, I reminded myself. I knew the house was empty. I had to hurry; my mom was waiting for me, terrified, maybe hurt already, in pain, depending on me.

I ran to the door, reaching up automatically to grab the key under the eave. It was dark inside, empty, normal. The smell was so familiar, it almost incapacitated me. It felt like my mother must be close, just in the other room, but I knew that wasn’t true.

I ran to the phone, turning on the kitchen light on my way. There, on the whiteboard, was a ten-digit number written in a small, neat hand. My fingers stumbled over the keypad, making mistakes. I had to hang up and start again. I concentrated on just the buttons this time, carefully pressing each one in turn. I was successful. I held the phone to my ear with a shaking hand. It rang only once.

“Hello, Bella,” that easy voice answered. “That was very quick. I’m impressed.”

“Is my mom okay?”

“She’s perfectly fine. Don’t worry, Bella, I have no quarrel with her. Unless you didn’t come alone, of course.” Light, amused.

“I’m alone.” I wasn’t lying. There was nobody else in the house.

“Very good. Now, do you know the ballet studio just around the corner from your home?”

“Yeah. I know how to get there.”

“Well, then, I’ll see you very soon.”

I hung up.

I ran from the room, through the door, out into the morning heat.

From the corner of my eye, I could almost see my mother standing in the shade of the big eucalyptus tree where I’d played as a kid. Or kneeling by the little plot of dirt around the mailbox, the cemetery of all the flowers she’d tried to grow. The memories were better than any reality I would see today. But I raced away from them.

I felt so slow, like I was running through wet sand—I couldn’t seem to get enough purchase from the concrete. I tripped over my feet several times, once falling, catching myself with my hands, scraping them on the sidewalk, and then lurching up to plunge forward again. At last I made it to the corner. Just another street now; I ran, sweat pouring down my face, gasping. The sun was hot on my skin, too bright as it bounced off the white concrete and blinded me.

When I rounded the last corner, onto Cactus, I could see the studio, looking just as I remembered it. The parking lot in front was empty, the vertical blinds in all the windows drawn. I couldn’t run anymore—I couldn’t breathe; fear had gotten the best of me. I thought of my mother to keep my feet moving, one in front of the other.

As I got closer, I could see the sign taped inside the door. It was handwritten on bright pink paper; it said the dance studio was closed for spring break. I touched the handle, tugged on it cautiously. It was unlocked. I fought to catch my breath, and opened the door.

The lobby was dark and empty, cool, the air conditioner thrumming. The plastic molded chairs were stacked along the walls, and the carpet was damp. The west dance floor was dark, I could see through the open viewing window. The east dance floor, the bigger room, the one from Alice’s vision, was lit. But the blinds were closed on the window.

Terror seized me so strongly that I was literally trapped by it. I couldn’t make my feet move forward.

And then my mom’s voice called for me.

“Bella? Bella?” That same tone of hysterical panic. I sprinted to the door, to the sound of her voice.

“Bella, you scared me! Don’t you ever do that to me again!” Her voice continued as I ran into the long, high-ceilinged room.

I stared around me, trying to find where her voice was coming from. I heard her laugh, and I spun toward the sound.

There she was, on the TV screen, mussing my hair in relief. It was Thanksgiving, and I was twelve. We’d gone to see my grandmother in California, the last year before she died. We went to the beach one day, and I’d leaned too far over the edge of the pier. Mom had seen my feet flailing, trying to reclaim my balance. “Bella? Bella?” she’d cried out in panic.

And then the TV screen was blue.

I turned slowly. The tracker was standing very still by the back exit, so still I hadn’t noticed her at first. In her hand was a remote control. We stared at each other for a long moment, and then she smiled.

She walked toward me, got just a few feet away, and then passed me to put the remote down next to the VCR. I pivoted carefully to watch her.

“Sorry about that, Bella, but isn’t it better that your mother didn’t really have to be involved in all this?” Her voice was kind.

And suddenly it hit me. My mom was safe. She was still in Florida. She’d never gotten my message. She’d never been terrified by the dark red eyes staring at me now. She wasn’t in pain. She was safe.

“Yes,” I answered, my voice breaking with relief.

“You don’t sound angry that I tricked you.”

“I’m not.” My sudden high made me brave. What did it matter now? It would be over soon. Charlie and Mom would never be hurt, would never have to be afraid. I felt almost dizzy from the relief. Some analytical part of my mind warned me that I was close to snapping from the stress, but then, losing my mind sounded like a decent option right now.

“How odd. You really mean it.” Her dark eyes looked me up and down. The irises were nearly black, just a hint of ruby around the edges. Thirsty. “I will give your strange coven this much, you humans can be quite interesting. I guess I can see the draw of observing you more closely. It’s amazing—some of you seem to have no sense of your own self-interest at all.”

"What do you want from me?" My voice was calm, indifferent. Dangerously so.

I attempted to get my heart rate up again by thinking of all the ways they could kill me. Nothing worked, not after the relief of discovering my mother's safety. At least Jamie hadn't noticed yet.

Jamie raised an eyebrow. "From you? Nothing."

I was confused for a moment, then it hit me. My eyes widened.

"No," I hissed. "You're not touching her."

"Why are you so worried, sweet bird?" Jamie crooned. "I heard that Edythe Cullen could read minds -- she can protect herself just fine. But you..." She reached out with a finger to trace my cheeks. Instantly I jerked away.

"I've always wanted to try my luck against a mind reader," she continued. "Don't we all?"

I became aware of four pairs of glistening teeth, their fangs protruding horribly out of their mouths.

"And not just a mind reader --" she counted on her hand, "-- a seer and a emotion-manipulator as well. You saw what they can do at that meeting, no?"

"Stop it," I said.

"It would be a marvelous hunt," she sighed. "Six of us against seven weak, pitiful, pacifists. The Volturi had limits on killing humans, but not so for our own kind." Her red eyes focused on mine. "I wonder how long those pretty ambers of theirs keep their color. A day? Two weeks, three after I plucked them out?"

"Stop." I couldn’t even stop to wonder where the other vampires had come from. I just stared at her, hoping against all hope that the phone was still on, that they could hear, that they were coming, that Alice had seen. That they would be ready for five vampires instead of one.

"And the first step had already been done for us, too. Bait has dropped itself into our very laps." Rigidly, I sat as she circled about me.

"Now it's time to set the trap."

My blood went cold. Murmurs echoed through the room, agreeing with her. So that's why they hadn't killed me yet, when they could have done so easily before.

I felt her touch like spiders in my hair. She paused in front of me and reached down, gripping both of the chair handles to peer straight into my face.

"So, Bella, do you have any ideas you'd like to volunteer?"

I kept my mouth shut, unmoving.

"You know perfectly what we could do." All eyes turned to a man in the corner. Despite an attractive countenance, he had hungry eyes and flexing, hungrier hands. "We could take her and leave her body for them to find."

Jamie's smile was cold. "Take her?"

I shuddered.

He didn't get the hint. "You know, we -- "

"The next time you say something like that again," Jamie snarled, "I'll nail your fucking body to the sea floor and let the fish take you. Are we clear?"

The man's mouth was open and he closed it. Jamie turned sharply away from him, hissing.

"You know, Bella," she said, ignoring the previous conversation. "I have an idea."

I stared at her, waiting.

"It always struck me strange how your lover is so willing to let you age away and die right before her eyes when the solution was right there. Your poor, cowardly beloved Edythe."

"Would you like to become a vampire, Bella?"

Something clattered outside. Jamie whipped her head around. Instantly all the vampires crouched, stances ready to kill.

"They're here," cried Jamie, her eyes glinting with delighted ferocity. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked it like a leash. I gasped in pain.

"You'll be staying with me. Edythe is mine to kill."

The vampires blurred as they moved. One reached for the handle and twisted it, breaking the lock with ease. They opened it.

In stepped a vampire I hadn’t seen before. She must’ve been keeping watch outside. Dark liquid was seeping through a raw wound on her neck, like something had tore a chunk out of it. She gasped, his eyes wide with terror.

"Wolves," she screamed. "Wol--!"

Something large and furry closed its maw about his head with a sickening crunch and wrenched him from the door. Windows shattered as bodies collided with it.

I closed my eyes.

"No." I heard Jamie. "It can't be!"

I reached under my shirt. My hands found the pocket knife nestled in my sports bra. Quickly snapping out the blade, I slashed Jamie's hand. She yelped and let go. Snarling, she made a grab for me. I dodged and fell to the floor.

Something leaped between us, and I heard her crash into the wall.

"Bella?!" A tinny voice yelled from inside my jacket. I slowly crawled to the corner of the room, ignoring the chaos happening around me, and hoisted myself against the wall, struggling to get the phone out of the secret pocket.

"Bella!"

"I'm fine, I'm okay," I said quickly, but my voice still shook. “Is everyone okay?"

I heard a sigh of relief on the other side.

"Yep, never better," Quil replied. Quil. I was surprised I recognized her voice in all the chaos.

I took a sharp breath and wrapped my arms around myself, relief tenth-fold.

“By the way, did you know that one of the blood-suckers’ got electricity powers? They shut down your Mom's whole city; that's why we couldn't contact her using email or phone. Giant disaster."

"Really?"

I was beginning to notice a crackling sound. Puzzled, I held the phone out before me. It was throwing sparks. I hurriedly dropped it on the ground. Nearby, the light bulb shattered, throwing the room into darkness. A bright flash hissed through the air. I lifted my eyes. One of the vampires had lightning zapping from her fingertips, throwing sparks wildly at anything that moved.

Time to leave.

I knew I couldn't do anything. I had known this; that was why I chose to be bait. There was only one way to make sure of Mom's safety while the rest of them arrived, and that was it.

But now my role was over. I had to trust the others, to trust Julie and Edythe to fight well and remain safe. I resigned to slowly crawl out of the room. Keeping myself low and in the dark, I let my hands feel the wall as a guide. And as I made my painful progress, I watched.

The room was a mess. The windows were shattered, and what had been the doorway was now a splintered hole. One vampire was already torn to pieces, her arms and torso scattered on the floor. I couldn't see Carine or Jasper with the speed at which they moved, but Eleanor was wrestling with a brawny man, their long, large fangs bared at each other. Eleanor had scratches and cuts on her arms. Her opponent had more.

A werewolf, who I recognized as Julie, was limping. She whined, backing into the wall. I gasped as two vampires closed in on her.

"No," I moaned.

They leaped, fangs bared. Her head snapped up. She swerved, avoiding them, and closed her jaw onto one's arm. She shook him like Hulk shook a toy, and threw him into the air. The other roared, and slammed against her side. They tumbled, and I tore my gaze from them, searching for others.

I spied the hungry man from before facing off against Rosalie. Her expression, usually indifferent, was now contorted with rage. She must have listened in on the conversation through the phone. I watched, almost in fascination, as she easily dodged his flexing fingers and rammed her foot into his stomach. It came out his back, caked with black viscera. Her hands gripped his head and twisted. Once. Twice. Three times, then wrenched it off, spurting black blood everywhere. I reminded myself to thank her later.

My eyes roved over again and I spotted them. I let out a gasp.

Jamie was dodging about the center of the room, her once-calm face now twisted with rage. Opposite her was my Edythe, teeth bared, and a large, red-furred wolf. Julie! My heart rose to my throat at the sight of them. I never thought I'd see her again. Either of them.

They were fighting viciously against Jamie, who was barely holding out her own. Already her right arm hung limp at her side. I could see a large, black bruise where her collarbone was; Edythe must have snapped it. Her side and shirt was mottled with dark liquid. She had precision and speed, one of an experienced hunter. From her words before, this hadn't been the first time she'd hunted vampires. Against any other opponent, she would have won.

Not with my Edythe and Julie. Julie, who I was startled to see, fought like she was reading Edythe’s mind. Or Edythe hers. But no, it was too fluid. Julie, Julie. It’s like I’d never seen her before. She looked so fierce, so beautiful.

Edythe moved with the agility of any immortal seventeen years old girl; youthful, graceful, merciless. Her lunges were wild and unpredictable. Julie moved like one used to fighting to protect. Her motions were clean-cut and calculated, a pack leader's mentality. The both of them moved like partners in a dance, filling in where the other left open. They clicked like lock and key, thrust and parry, sword and shield. Jamie was a goner.

They almost had her, and she knew it. A break to the leg or a bite to the neck and she would be gone. Her head snapped about, taking in the scene around her, searching for help. Her allies were falling one by one, and those that didn't had ran. Outside, I heard two distinct, victorious howls. It was a matter of time. She was going to lose.

I had reached the door and was just about to ease myself out when her eyes found me.

Edythe must have read her mind, because she cried out, "NO!"

In one movement, Jamie lunged. As if in slow motion, I saw her coming towards me, mouth open wide, white fangs glinting in the moonlight. I shoved myself out the doorway but it was too late. My arms flew up to shield myself, and her teeth found my wrist.

Two sharp points pierced my flesh. A second later her entire jaw closed about my wrist like a metal trap snapping shut. I could hear the crunch of bone.

"NO!"

Daggers of pain erupted at my wrist like wildfire.

I screamed.

A/N: I had to change so much here, dear god. There was no way I was having Bella run off on her own without telling anyone, so I had to rewrite that whole scene after the letter. Then I took Bly’s lovely rough draft rewrite of this chapter and tweaked it so it made a little more sense with the way the story was now. Basically, there were a lot of changes that I’m sure I’ve forgotten about and let slip through the cracks, but since I’m the only one of the old group left, and have the memory of a broken colander, I don’t think y’all will hold it against me (also I decided to stick with the old technology, cause I like that). I might go back and add some scenes with Julie. I really enjoy the ot3 but I don’t want it to seem like it came out of left field.

#chapter #twife or death #twife or death update #lesbian twilight #lesbian twilight update #Twilight rewrite #gay twilight #twilight #twilight renaissance #gay twilight renaissance #lesbian vampires #twilight lesbians #twilight lesbian vampires #ive only looked over this once after i added all the things #its eight o'clock i rly should go eat

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katelyn--renee · 4 years

Text

Cinnamon and Hazelnut

Title: Cinnamon and Hazelnut

Fandom: DC Universe/Superman

Characters: Clark Kent x Reader

Words: ± 1500

Description: (Y/N) takes a stroll through the park and gets an unexpected surprise.

Square Filled: Fall for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Warnings: None really. Slight scare. Intense kiss. More fluff than anything.

Author’s Note: First time writing anything that wasn’t Supernatural related. I hope you enjoy and please leave any feedback on what you think! I don’t own any photos or gifs used in this fic.

A special thank you to @writeyourmindaway for the dividers! I love them!

**Disclaimer; I don’t own any of the photos or gifs used in this fic.**

Interested in more of my work, check out the link below.

Masterlist

Metropolis was beautiful this time of year; the trees were so lively and full of color, and the city was buzzing with cheer as everyone prepared for the coming holidays. Even with the chilly fall breeze and increasingly bitter weather, the season never failed to bring a smile to (Y/N)’s face.

She hugged herself a little tighter as another frigid gust blew past her, causing a shower of leaves to cascade down around her. The colder the weather got, the more grateful she was for the plaid scarf Clark had recently gifted her. She hadn’t been too fond of the color choice at first - it was a mixture of warm autumn colors; splashes of brilliant reds, vibrant yellows, various browns and burnt oranges.

But, despite her initial dislike of the garment, she couldn’t bring herself to actually tell Clark this. Knowing her boyfriend and his Kansas heart of gold, he bought it with good intentions and she wouldn’t (and couldn’t) diminish any joy from his steel blue eyes. It was the thought that counted anyway, right? And so, to satisfy her guilty conscience, she wore it every time mother nature decided to show her uglier side.

(Y/N) sighed with content as she continued along the cobblestone path, her boots heavy against the stone as she crunched through the fallen leaves. The path was encased by an overhanging of thick branches and leaves that were ever changing and breathtaking in the early morning sun. This was her favorite place to find peace, hidden by skyscrapers and tucked away into the heart of the city. It was so quiet this early in the morning, with the exception of a few morning song birds, and it sort of became her own fortress of solitude in a way.

She only slowed in her stroll when she approached the old bridge overlooking the lily pond, pausing to lean over the stone edge and peer down into the water. She tipped her head curiously, gazing down at her own reflection and smiling softly at herself. She supposed the scarf wasn’t too bad after all; it was soft and warm and the colors went surprisingly well with her red coat. She’d make a point to thank Clark one more time.

(Y/N) didn’t know how long she’d remained there on the bridge, watching - mesmerized really - by the fluttering leaves and the way they rippled against the water’s surface. Time seemed to be irrelevant here and that was something she was perfectly okay with.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, there was someone suddenly behind her and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end with the closeness, her body naturally tensing and preparing for fight or flight. She hadn’t been expecting anyone.

She spun when the unknown person got closer, instinctively spinning and swinging a hand toward the stranger’s face in defense. Her open palm swiped past the man’s nose, nearly missing connection as he ducked back out of the way, the hot coffees sloshing out over their lids and onto his hands (he feigned a hiss of pain.). “Whoa, hey!” Came the familiar voice. His thick rimmed glasses shifted down to the end of his nose with the sudden movement, his blue eyes wide with surprise and his curly hair tousled out of place, leaving a single curl dangling in front.

“Jesus Chri- Clark!” (Y/N) gasped with surprise, her hand grasping at her chest in an attempt to ease her racing heart. Her (Y/E/C) eyes were as wide as his, her chest rising and falling with quickened gasps. “You scared the crap out of me.” She shook her head and ran a nervous hand through her (Y/H/C) hair, swiping it back and out of her face.

“Oh jeez, I’m sorry (Y/N). I didn’t mean to startle you.” Clark admitted sheepishly, setting down the coffees and brushing the hot liquid off his hands with the back of his jeans. He could hear the rapid rate of her heart and he genuinely felt bad for giving her such a fright. He quickly pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “It’s just that I…. I wanted to surprise you… before heading into work.” He offered her a shy smile, motioning toward the coffee stained paper cups resting on the ledge. He readjusted the strap of his leather satchel bag.

(Y/N) sighed as she followed his gaze, her expression softening and filling with adoration. He really was the sweetest. She picked up the cup labelled with her name (or something she assumed was supposed to be her name. Those coffee shops can never seem to spell anything right.).

“Hazelnut?” She asked, casting a curious gaze up at him from under her lashes, her perfect brow arching in question. She brought the cup to her lips, but didn’t take a sip yet. She could feel it’s warmth radiating through the cup and into the palms of her hands. She inhaled it’s alluring scent, her mouth watering.

Clark’s smile shifted and curled up at one side, moving in to place his hands at either side of her waist. “Of course.” He promised, peering down at her through his false glasses. “Exactly the way you like it… extra foam an’ all.” He recited her order, his voice deep and assuring, knowing it like the back of his hand. He lifted a hand and brushed his knuckles over the smooth skin of her cheek, using his fingers to tuck a defiant hair behind her ear before finding its place back at her hip.

She felt her face flush and darken with heat at the sudden contact, this time welcoming the closeness. This was so unlike Clark, to be so firm and confident. His hands felt so large and strong against her hips. She smiled up at him before taking a cautious sip from her coffee, not wanting to burn herself. She hummed with delight as the warmth spread through her. The sound of her satisfaction widened the smile on Clark’s face and made his own heart flutter.

Clark stared down at her with adoring blue eyes, soaking in every detail down to the very last freckle and imperfectly perfect strand of (Y/H/C) hair. Her face got warm again and she got increasingly self conscious under his intense gaze. “What?” She asked with a nervous laugh, ducking her face a little to try and hide.

Clark caught her chin and tipped her face back up, meeting her with a look of love and affection. “Don’t do that. Don’t hide.” He commented softly, brushing his thumb against her jaw. His skin felt rough against hers - from the years of working on the farm, she assumed. “Not from me.” She sucked in a shaky breath and met his gaze once again, her heart pounding heavily in her ears.

She watched as his gaze shifted from her eyes, dropping to her parted lips before wetting his own. She watched as his tongue darted out and his hand snaked around to the back of her neck, entangling it into her hair. He leaned in slowly, hesitated for a moment before closing the distance.

(Y/N) inhaled sharply and her senses were overwhelmed by Clark; a scent so intoxicating and delicious (fresh cinnamon and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on) that it made her head spin… or maybe that was just the effect he had on her? She didn’t know anymore, nor did she care.

His lips seemed to hesitate at first before finding their rhythm, moving in time with hers. She parted her lips during the exchange and invited him in - which he accepted eagerly. Their tongues twisted and danced together, tasting and indulging in their favorite flavors.

This wasn’t the first time they’d kissed and it certainly wouldn’t be the last… but there was something about this kiss that felt… different. Good… great even, but different. It was something that (Y/N) was willing to discover further with Clark.

She felt his hand pull gently at the root of her hair and the sensation sent a shiver through her spin until it settled deep into her stomach where she knew it was fester and grow into something more. A soft, delicious moan escaped her throat, the sound causing Clark to falter in his movements and let out a groan of his own.

Clark was the one who pulled away first, leaving her breathless and dizzy. He didn’t go far, pressing his forehead against hers with his hand still tucked behind her neck. His thumb rubbed against her jaw, just below her ear. Her eyes fluttered open after a moment, her mind finally catching up with her body.

“Clark that was…” She mused, her voice breathy and awestruck. Her face was warm and her heart was still trying to beat out of her chest, this time in a much more welcoming manner. A smile broke out across her face.

The corner of Clark’s mouth twisted into a confident smirk, able to hear and see the effects he had on her. His own heart mirrored hers, pounding heavily in his ears. “Yeah.” He agreed, chuckling softly.

I hope you enjoyed that sweet Clark fic. I’ll be working on more in the near future! As always, please like, share and leave me some feedback!

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voltagesmutter · 4 years

Text

Frustration

Shaw Smut

It’s 11:49 pm and I’m running out of time because Shaw’s birthday ends.

I’ve literally fallen for this lilac bad boy and I’m ready to have his babies

*Smut and NSFW Below Cut*

Just over a month you had been away from your lavender haired, bombshell of a boyfriend as you were away on a scouting location tour. It was torturous, painful and just seemed to last forever. Throwing your bag into the airplane cabin, all you wanted to do was be back in the arms of your chaotic lover. The plane ride was excruciating, a dullness kicking into your stomach that made you double over slightly in pain.

“Boss? You okay?” A concerned Minor asked, tearing his way away from the in-flight magazine and you gave him a nod. You knew this pain too well.

“Motherfucker,” You sighed heavily in the bathroom, mother nature decided to bless you with the reassurance of nothing being pregnant, nearly a week earlier than expected. God-damn it, your sexy plans of a reunion with Shaw, went flying out of the window. Seeing him was going to kill you, that eat-shit grin, how his clothes hung perfect to his skin, the scent of him was just another to drive you over aboard. Not only was hugely pent up from a lack of physical activities between the two of you due to your time away, now you would have to prolong it even further whilst your hormones sent you in an impassioned rage.

You had such wonderful plans for tonight, mind blowing plans, the lace lingerie you picked up whilst you was away was just the start. The plan to wear it under one of his band tops as a little surprise would hopefully be enough for his ravage you on the spot, not that it wouldn’t happen anyway, he literally couldn’t get enough of you and your touch. In-fact he was so desperate to get his fill of you, that you A. never got a wink of sleep the night before you left, B. was late to the airport, C. so sore the following day you almost couldn’t get up from the airplane seat. You didn’t just want him physically, god no, you missed everything about him. He missed you as well, his apartment just seemed empty without you in it, not that he would admit this to you. You groaned through your head against the plush leather in front of you, this was going to be a nightmare.

“Shaw, are you here?” You asked down the phone, leaving the airport, suitcase in hand.

“No, I’m outside parked up, they wanted to charge stupid amounts and I refuse to pay it,”. You sighed in response.

“Shaw, how far is ‘outside’?”. There's a brief pause.

“Like a mile… or five,”.

“I’m not walking five miles to the car with a suitcase,” You huff, and a small chuckle comes down the phone.

“If you didn’t take half your apartment with you then it wouldn’t be such a struggle,”.

“I’m sure Victor will gladly give me a lift,” A teasing smile on your face as you hear the engine start before you even finish your sentence.

“Be ready, I’m not paying for more than two minutes,” You could tell he was lightly pouting as he said it.

Shaw wasn’t joking, the second he pulled up he threw your case into the car and sped off before you barely sat in the chair.

“Shaw!” You gasped as he raced out the car park, throwing the change into the machine, giving you a few seconds to do up your belt.

“Sorry babe, but fuck the corporation for the fees,” He chuckles, his hand glinting over your seatbelt to check it was done up properly before speeding away. You chatted pleasantly on the way back to his, him teasing you relentlessly when you blurted out Anna nearly walking in on the pair of you having phone sex.

“It wasn’t funny!” You playfully bash his arm with a blush.

“Imagine if she walked in and saw you, legs spread with them fingers doing what you described,” He wiggled with his eyebrows a little towards you, “Maybe she might have joined you, now that would have been a good phone call,”. He chuckled as you hit him again, calling him a pervert. He gave you a I missed you smile, even if he wouldn’t admit it you could tell that was how he felt, as he leaned a hand off the steering wheel to place it on your thigh.

“You know, we do have a long trip home,” He smirks mischievously, the feeling of his fingertips sending shivers up your body. Although you did take a few heart warming seconds to melt when he reference his place to ‘home’. You were already a hormonal wreck from your period, the slightest touch from him was about to send your hornieness sky-rocketing. Right now, all you could think of was straddling his lap and riding him until either of you could take no more. But you refused to do anything whilst on your period, it just wasn’t something you were comfortable with. It was a blessing and a curse; the slightest touch or even look made took you to a new level of turn on but you were unable to accept any pleasure from the situation.

“Shaw,” You whined, grabbing his wrist as he tried to trace his fingers up your skirt.

“What’s up baby?” He questioned, still-in his hand at your movement.

“I got my period,” You pout, turning your head as you hear him chuckle slightly.

“That's fine, we’ve had to wait how long anyway, a few extra days won’t hurt,” He would later live to regret that comment. The night was tortuous when you got home, sweet welcome back kisses turned into a heavy make-out session on his couch, tongues fighting with each other as he lowered himself against the fabric, you coming on to straddle his lap. It was agony, your core was burning, lust and desire pumping through your veins from every kiss. You found yourself mercilessly grinding against his growing bulge under his skin tight jeans, his hands guiding your movements as he thrusted up to you when you moaned into his mouth. He delivered to you every sense of pleasure he could as you dove your hips further and further against him, delivering a slow release to your unholy frustration. Almost ripping your shirt from your body, Shaw’s hands hastily remove the clothes from your top half, cupping your bouncing breasts, tugging at your nipples in a motion that almost made you cry out. He pulls you gently to lean down as your breasts rock freely in front of his mouth, leaning up to embellish them with his lips, sucking before releasing with a wet pop as he moves to the other. The touch of him, sending over stimulated senses through your body was enough to push you to the edge, your fingertips digging into his chest.

“I~I~I~... c-oming!” Was all you cry out, your head thrown back as your hands leaned back to grasp his thighs, riding yourself against him to a release, you clenching relentlessly over nothing. He kept his mouth against your breasts, helping to ride you down before pulling himself away. A few beads of sweat trailed over your brow as you leaned down on his chest with a slight pant.

“Barely even touched you,” He smirked teasingly, “I hope you're ready to put that pretty mouth to work baby after that delightful teasing,”. He thrusted up so you feel his painful erection press against you. Sitting back up and leaning on his thighs, your hands so slowly snake their way to undo his belt and sipper.

“How can I say no to you,” You giggle with a light wink.

---

Just a little over a week later, you lay in bed with Shaw pressed up cuddling you from behind, your eyes opening as the light rays began to poke through the curtains. You needed to get up without disturbing Shaw but every time you moved he let out a little ‘hmph’ in disapproval in his sleep. Your eyes scanned the bedroom floor until you saw ‘Bruce’, the plushie shark Shaw had won at a carnival (And yes he was named after Bruce in finding nemo), he had been lobbed onto the floor at some point in the night. That poor shark had seen some horrific sights between Shaw and you, poor baby, how he still had that sewn on gaping smile you’d never know.

Shuffling yourself forward slowly, your hand just about grasped his and you pulled him on the bed. After some carefully planned manoeuvring, you were able to climb out of bed and swap your body for Bruce’s, watching as Shaw snuggled the plushie close to him. Everything about him melted your heart, you felt nothing but pure love for the young lilac haired man currently spooning a toy shark. Even though he never he said it, he loved you deeply back, he had done since the day he first saw you on the bus determined to make you his forever.

Finally getting to wear the cladded set of underwear you brought from your trip, you had kept it a surprise, feeling fresh as a daisy and more than ready to actually get physical with Shaw (It had been the longest and most frustrating few days of your life, no amount of dry humping and blowjobs could relieve either one of your lusts). With a gentle cough as you stood at the end of the bed, Shaw murmured in his sleep before kissing the head of Bruce causing a fit of giggles from you.

“Hmm?” He sleepily asks, his eyes opening slowly before he jolted back, Bruce being launched into the air.

“You two make a cute couple,” You tease, watching the plushie crash back down on the bed as Shaw rested against the headrest admiring the view in-front of him. You crawl on to the bed and over him.

“Happy birthday Shaw,” You breathlessly whisper, straddling him and pressing gentle kisses to his lips.

“You are the best present I could ever wish for,” His lips coming up meet yours.

Poor Bruce lay on the side of the bed watching for hours as Shaw and you ravished each other's bodies, unable to get enough of each other. That poor plushie had seen enough to make the kamasutra look tame.

#mlqc #mlqc shaw #mr love shaw #mr love queen's choice shaw #mlqc ling xiao #mr love ling xiao #mlqc smut #mr love smut #mr love queen's choice

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bedtimebrain · 3 years

Text

EXO D.O.: Summer Love Part 2!

The part 1 was a lil lengthy on the intro, but still hope you like this one! Check out part 1 if u haven’t!

Part 1

Characters : DKS x reader (+ Chanyeol)

Ksoo’s is an actor having a musical where you are working at. And a summer crush begins...

You read the next line

/reach for her hand and give a forehead kiss/

OMG

NO THAT AINT HAPPENING

Your fight of flight instinct kicked in, you moved backwards a few steps as Kyungsoo got closer. You saw him reach out to your hand so you turned your body to avoid his reach, and you saw the director frowning at you about to get annoyed at you for not cooperating.

Honestly you didn’t care, not like he pays you, you’re about to walk off right now, and so you did.

Just as you turned to walk off hurriedly, you felt a firm grip on your hand, then a tug, which pulled you straight into kyungsoo’s chest. His arms were around your shoulder but your arms were frozen beside you.

You were absolutely frozen and tense, you could feel the vibration against his chest as he read the next line, but you had absolutely no idea what was being read.

The director cut in

‘Ah, that’s the feel I’m looking for, okay, we will change the forehead kiss to this instead. Alright let’s get off work!’

Kyungsoo let you go and looked at your face ,

‘Y/N are you alright? You’re really red on your cheeks’

You finally regained your senses as you set a good distance between both of you

‘Yes , I’m alright. Did u really have to go that far though? I was totally caught off guard with the touchy things happening, haha’

You tried to laugh it off and play it cool, ignoring your heart that was beating 200 BPM and the (sweet) replays in your mind of what just happened.

‘Ah , I just wanted to practice it well and get the feel right. I’ll buy you bubble tea to thank you for your help then!’

‘It’s okay Kyungsoo, I’m in a rush I’ll head off first!’ You awkwardly and abruptly walked off, not even returning a bye to Kyungsoo.

You’re definitely going to get scolded for the dirty stage tomorrow but you wouldn’t stand there another second without being sure you aren’t going into cardiac arrest the next second.

Throughout the day, your mind kept returning to the touch of his hand and the warmth of his chest. You let out your inner scream , hugging your sofa cushion to muffle it. You were a little happy about it, but in absolutely denial that you wanted more of that. This can’t be happening, what is happening? Do I really like that? No way. You decided to watch a movie to shake your mind off it and soon fell asleep. ----

Kyungsoo on the other hand, kept seeing your face in his mind. What’s up with her though? Did I really cross the line? She looked like she really hated having to do that extra work. Though I was just hoping to practicing my lines... and was absolutely normal my heart started to race like mad when I hugged her...? Ah, whatever, forget about it, thinking isn’t going to solve my worries. -----

The next day at work you made a conscious effort to avoid Kyungsoo. Seeing him from afar, u pretended you forgot something and went another way round. When he dropped by to say hi during lunch you claimed you were so busy you couldn’t waste another second at lunch.

In the late afternoon, you were busy in the store room packing the giveaways for the shows. Switching off the lights and carrying the boxes you were just about to leave when Kyungsoo walked into the store room.

‘Oh my gawd , that scared me!’ You exclaimed and proceed to overturn the giveaways all over to the ground.

‘I’m so sorry I didn’t know someone was inside, the lights were off when I looked in. Let me help u pick it up’

You both quickly picked up the giveaways in silence, that feeling of nervousness and awkwardness returned back, hitting you straight in the face. All you thought about was escape escape escape.

‘Ah ok , thanks Kyungsoo, I’m going to leave now’ you said quickly without making eye contact with him.

Turning the knob, you were almost in disbelief .

The door is locked ?! You started to panic and kept turning the door knob multiple times

‘Hey it definitely looks looked, calm down. Give a call to chanyeol’

Without even replying him, you called chanyeol, he said he would be right back in 10 minutes to unlock it for you.

After relaying the msg to Kyungsoo, you both looked at each other. You thought to yourself, there’s clearly no avoiding this situation. You calmed your heart, pretended everything was fine, and asked him

‘Hey how’s the preparation going for tomorrow? I thought I never asked you this, do u like the musical you’re doing actually?’

‘Oh it’s going fine. Yeh I do, somehow I feel like I can relate to the sorrow in the musical..’ Kyungsoo replied a little quieter than his usual self with you.

The awkwardness and tension weighed heavy in the atmosphere. After some visible hesitation from Kyungsoo, he went ‘And about yesterday, I’m sorry if you felt I overstepped my boundaries or if I gave you extra work to do. I hope you would stop avoiding me like this.’ He looked you straight in the eye which reflected sincerity.

‘Ah, it’s not you , it’s just me, really. But okay I heard you’ you returned his gaze and oh boy this warm fuzzy feeling came to you , you’re definitely crushing hard on him.

—-

The next day came which was also the last 3 days before the wrap up. Everyone was busy, and there you were busy stealing glances at Kyungsoo. You figured there’s absolutely no way you can avoid him, you might as well accept your feelings and feed on it instead.

Strangely, whenever you needed help Kyungsoo was always nearby, and always helped you without letting you reject him.

During lunch he would pop by with desserts and side dishes saying the musical team ordered extras and gave them to you. And they were always your favourite.

For the next 3 days Kyungsoo would come as early as the technical team, which was 2 hours before the cast’s report time. Saying he wants to soak in the quietness and set before the actual musical. But he always came with breakfast and asked you to have some because he made them. You didn’t reject either, wanting to talk with him before the day gets busy. You guys often talked until you get called to do work or until you realise just how long you guys have spent talking and you scooted off in urgency to prepare for the day.

On the third day after the show, Kyungsoo approached you and chanyeol

‘Hey guys let’s take picture together! It’s my last night here in the theatre’

It hit you a little harder than it should that from tomorrow , he would not be in your daily scene anymore.

Chanyeol congratulated him with a big hug and you all took a shot together. The sadness of him leaving felt overwhelming suddenly you wanted to escape to sort your thoughts after the picture. But Kyungsoo grabbed your arm lightly as you were about to leave ‘Chanyeol, take a picture of us together please!’

He held you by the shoulder and you bravely put your arms around his waist and you both caught each other in The Eye and looked away shyly , laughing, into the camera.

‘Chanyeol, Y/N! Hurry up! The theatre is closing in an hour! Pack up the stage!’

With your manager’s shout you and chanyeol both could only say your hurried goodbyes to Kyungsoo. And turned to head off.

But thinking how it was your last day to see Kyungsoo, you turned back and walked towards Kyungsoo. And he was looking at you too.

Stopping in front of him, and gathering all your inner bravery you stepped toward him and hugged him. That must have surprised him, you felt him tense up had a delayed reaction of hugging you back.

‘I will miss you Kyungsoo, I loved our times together. Thank you for making me like coming to work so much more’ you said it fast before you let go and ran away.

In that haste and embarrassing moment you were not to sure if you got it right, where your head leaned on his chest, the rhythm of his heart seemed to match yours, madly pumping.

As you walked home that night, a bitter sweet moment was left to yourself as you let it sink in the times you guys had together and special bond between the both of you. You let tears streamed down as you come to terms of not being able to see him again, braving yourself for a new normal from tomorrow without him.

—

Heading to work the next day, you saw Kyungsoo waiting outside the back entrance for you. Your heart skipped a beat , and you couldn’t hide the smile on your face.

‘Y/N! I have a flight to catch but I thought I couldn’t go without giving this to you. So I came here to pass you this!’

He handed you an envelope

‘I got to go now.. I hope we see each other again’ saying it with a smile, he waved good bye and went towards the car waiting.

You watch as the car drove off.

Opening the envelope, it was the picture of both of you yesterday.

At the back of it wrote

‘Y/N,

Thank you for giving me a beautiful memory to remember. I think about the times we spent together more than you can ever imagine. I’m glad to have met you. If you feel the same, drop a text at the number below... I’ll be waiting eagerly :)

Kyungsoo’

You couldn’t smile any wider , and let out the internal scream you have been holding back.

You flipped out your phone and texted

‘Hey:)’

#exo fanfic #do kyungsoo #exo do kyungsoo #exo #exo d.o.#exo scenarios #kyungsoo scenarios #kyungsoo #d.o. scenarios #exo fluff #kyungsoo fluff

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unsteadygalaxy · 3 years

Text

all is soft inside chapter 7

a miragehound multichapter fanfiction

Also posted on ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26475064/chapters/67350442

previous | next

7. i carry more than you see

A gloved hand meets smooth steel and pushes gently, opening the door. The hinges whine for a moment before going quiet. Bloodhound exits their apartment, locks the door behind them, and heads for the stairs to the roof.

They know they can very well take the elevator and avoid the extra strain, but a part of them needs the burn. They need the dull scorch in their chest to keep them going. To keep them sane. To remind them why they’re here. After all, it’s only a few flights from their floor to the roof. They can manage.

They pass Octavio’s apartment on their way, and they smile. Loud engine noises beat through the walls as Octavio plays yet another racing game. Bloodhound was sure his pursuit of speed and adrenaline would slow to a crawl one day, but certainly not yet.

Reaching the stairwell, they pull out their phone for a brief moment. It’s a simple thing, not at all fancy like those belonging to their fellow Legends, but it does the job. As usual, the screen is blank and wordless, showing only the time in white numbers against a blank background. For a moment they wish that someone would send them a message, but who do they know that would? They stuff the phone back into the pocket of their thick outer jacket and sigh, annoyed with themself.

As they ascend the stairs, the familiar ache in the lungs reminds them of the first time they’d tried to navigate a stairwell after the accident. The steep, sturdy staircase leading up to their room in the loft of Artur’s home became a behemoth, an impossible obstacle to overcome for so long. They had made it up halfway before their lungs screamed at them to stop. They’d collapsed onto the steps, weeping brokenly, and abandoned their attempt, opting to burrow into a pile of warm furs on the bottom floor instead. The coolant in their lungs had frozen and damaged some of their lung tissue, and the village medics told them they were extremely lucky to be alive. The respirator they had found proved to be an essential part of their life, and they had used many over the years since then.

Now, as they near the top, their lungs burn but they do not falter. They scale the last few steps with ease, inhaling deeply. The air that passes down their throat to their creaking lungs soothes each protesting corner and calms the heat that circulates inside. Bloodhound places a hand over their heart, willing it to slow, willing it to return to its normal rhythm.Their blood pumps hard, flowing throughout their body, filling them with a sense of satisfaction. It had been many, many years since the accident, but they still felt a quiet sense of pride and assurance when they could scale a flight of stairs.

Quite ironic, is it not? Bloodhound thinks. They risked their life every day, killing and hunting and killing again, but the most meaningful victory was standing at the top of a staircase, knowing they had made it. But why? Why did that matter so much, when their prowess as a hunter was so much more important? They push at the door to the roof and it swings open with a heavy creak.

A cold chill runs across their skin and they stuff their gloved hands into their pockets. Bloodhound breathes deeply, letting the cool air tickle their throat on the way down.

“Um…”

They jump, and turn to their left. To their surprise, Elliott stands there in the corner, holding a bottle of beer, and the energy around him is suspiciously sad and forlorn again. His eyes are gleaming dully, and Bloodhound realizes they have walked in on a very private moment.

“Elliott,” they say, their voice coming out much too high, even through the modulator. They clear their throat, and continue. “My apologies. I do not wish to interrupt you. I will leave, if that is what you desire.”

“No, no, it’s okay. Really.” Elliott’s voice is quiet and tight, like it was the last time they had found each other here. He sniffs, and Bloodhound averts their eyes as he turns away, a hand going to his face.

“If you are certain…” Bloodhound trails off, waiting for a response. Elliott gives none, so Bloodhound crosses over to him, but leaves a respectable distance between them.

Neither of them say anything for several minutes. Elliott occasionally takes a drink from his bottle, and soon drains it completely. It clinks as he sets it down on the ground. He sighs and leans against the balcony, propping himself up with his elbows. Bloodhound runs their fingers over the rough stone. They let their thoughts wander here and there, but they occasionally glance over at Elliott. His expression is far away and glassy, but not from alcohol- he doesn’t seem to be drunk.

“What troubles you, félagi?” they ask softly.

Elliott snorts, a short sound filled with derision and a surprising amount of venom. “What doesn’t trouble me?” he replies, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Seems like I can barely keep my head on straight these days.”

“What is it you need?” Bloodhound asks, and a strange desire to put their hand on his arm takes place under their sternum. They ignore it.

Elliott sighs heavily, and massages his temples. “I…” He breaks off, his voice giving out. His next words come out in a tangled, frustrated tumble. “I need to stop being such a useless mess in the Games, I need my mom to stop losing her goddamn mind, I need my dad to stop being such a dickhead, I need my brothers to come out of whatever fucking hiding hole they’re in and help me, goddammit-” His voice breaks again, and his jaw is set and trembling. The sudden surge of anger startles Bloodhound; he had not seemed to be quite so agitated when they arrived. His eyes shine again, and he shakes his head, staring at his hands.

Bloodhound moves as though they are in a dream, and before they know what they’re doing, they’re at his side. They touch his shoulder, and squeeze it gently. Elliott jumps, but relaxes into their touch. He stands straight for a few more moments, shaking slightly, then he groans. “God, I’m so pathetic, sorry,” he says, his voice constricted. “I can’t believe I’m actually crying right now. And in front of you, too. The last person I want to cry in front of.” He wipes his face angrily and shakes Bloodhound’s hand off as he walks away. His foot collides with the beer bottle, and it goes skittering across the floor, clinking faintly.

Their hand is cold as they bring it back to their side. Discomfort and rejection pool in their stomach, but they press it down, promising themself they will process it later. “You are neither useless nor pathetic, Elliott,” they assert. “Your emotions do not make you a lesser person. They make you strong.”

“Strong?” He laughs, and it hurts. “Strong? You’re kidding, right? You’re going to stand there and look at me and tell me I’m strong?” His words are scathing, and he glares at them, angry and in pain.

“Yes, Elliott, I am,” they shoot back. “Because despite your poor opinion of yourself, you are a worthy teammate. I quite enjoy fighting by your side.”

“But why?” he asks, his voice becoming more emphatic. He’s pacing, his hands knotting in his voluminous hair. “Why, Bloodhound? Nothing about me has been strong lately. I lose it every time I hear my mom’s voice on the phone and she asks who she’s talking to. I’m her son. She should know me!” he gasps, anguish working its way across his face. “And my useless shithead of a dad d- des- abandons us just as soon as things get shitty, only to come crawling back the second he gets wind of his youngest son being in the Apex Games. Everyone knows the only thing he’s after is the money- he can’t be bothered to step back in and be an actual dad. He wasn’t even that great anyway.” Elliott trembles as he speaks, spitting out the words like they’re poison in his veins, left by the gaping maw of some unseen, ravenous creature.

“And then my glorious, wonderful, perfect brothers all ran off to join the fight when the war started. They all had something to prove, something to hold themselves up to. Dumbasses just wanted to be better than their dear old dad. They just left behind their kid brother to grow up alone and wonder where they’d gone.” His voice breaks again, and Bloodhound has to resist the sudden urge to gather him in their arms. He turns away, and they avert their eyes once more as he shakes.

Bloodhound waits, struggling and grasping to find the right thing to say. They feel different- exposed, or scrutinized, even. They had always been a sympathetic person, but it had been a very long time since they wanted to hold someone the way they wanted to hold Elliott.

“You are very well within your rights to feel scared and powerless,” Bloodhound soothes, trying to quiet their intrusive thoughts. “All of this is enough to make anyone deeply upset.”

“I don’t have time for this!” Elliott yells, waving his hands wildly. “I don’t have time to process all of this. I need to focus on the Games. It’s been weeks since I came out on top. Every damn time I get close, something goes wrong. I slip up, or I make a dumb decision, or I just sit there staring at you like a dumbass because you’re so—” He stops abruptly, eyes going wide, cheeks turning a brilliant shade of red. “...because you’re such a badass,” he finishes lamely, and he turns away.

Bloodhound remains quiet for a moment, mulling over the implications behind the unspoken words. What was he about to say? It certainly wasn’t “beautiful”— anyone would agree that Bloodhound’s chances of being attractive had splintered like their skin all those years ago. Perhaps it was “skilled”? But no, why would he stop himself from saying that? They close their eyes and push the question away, resolving to think about it another time.

“My success does not invalidate your worth as a person,” they reply. “Elliott, you are a smart man. You are capable and strong. But if you do not allow yourself to feel these things, they will haunt you forever.”

“And how exactly do you propose that I feel things, huh?” he asks, exasperated and impatient. “This shit sucks, and I’m trying to get rid of it, not keep it around!” He throws his hands in the air and strides away, still fuming.

Bloodhound sighs. Elliott was many things, but a patient man he was not.

“Vinur minn. Do you trust me?” they ask, both expecting and dreading his answer.

Elliott stops, and turns around just enough for Bloodhound to see the frustration in his eyes barely give way to something softer. Kinder. “I mean… yeah.”

“Come.”

Bloodhound turns away from the city lights and turbulent distractions, heading for the opposite side of the roof. They pick up a pair of cushions from the chairs there, and place them on the floor. The sun is sinking in the sky, and gives the far off trees a golden aura. Bloodhound wishes they could be running among them, feeling the day’s last rays of warmth drain from the world. But it does not matter. Elliott Witt has lost his light, and Bloodhound is here to help him find it again.

They settle onto one of the cushions, sitting cross-legged. Elliott has followed them, but he stares down at them, confused. “Uh… what are we doing, H- I mean, Bloodhound?”

“Please, take a seat,” Bloodhound says, gesturing to the pillow next to them. They pause, then begin to remove their gloves. The scarring is not as severe there, they think. But why are they rationalizing? Why are they worried? They trust Elliott not to tell anyone, and they trust him to not ask any ill-willed questions.They lay the gloves in their lap and weave their fingers together, bringing their hands to rest as Elliott settles on the pillow, still looking bewildered.

“Please take my hands,” they ask, their voice nigh a whisper. Elliott suddenly flushes, but extends his hands nonetheless. A spark of warmth ignites where the first contact is made- his middle finger graces their palm ever so softly- but it spreads and matures into something much more familiar, much more intimate. His hands are bitterly cold. Bloodhound wants to wrap his hands in theirs and hold them until they’re both warm. Part of them retreats and cringes when his fingers pass over their scars, but they resist the urge to draw back. Elliotts emotions are rattled enough, and he does not need any more rejection.

“Breathe with me.” Bloodhound inhales deeply, and Elliott follows suit, looking more and more at ease as time goes by. Air swirls into their lungs, expanding and filling their chest to a comfortable volume. The spaces between Bloodhound’s ribs stretch and extend as they pull their diaphragm down, drinking in the air like it’s a fine wine. Their gaze locks perfectly to Elliott’s, and even through the goggles, Elliott makes direct eye contact. His deep brown eyes are tired, and the bags under them look purple and dark. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, even though Bloodhound knew that couldn’t be the case. He had very nearly beat them yesterday, after all.

The two of them breathe in tandem for a few moments more, and Elliott’s energy progresses from a writhing roar to a light buzz. “Better?” Bloodhound asks.

“Yeah,” he replies. “How-”

“Trust me,” they implore.

He nods.

“When we focus on the breath of life, we are able to filter out the distractions,” Bloodhound says. Their thumbs tenderly caress Elliott’s fingers in a calming motion, pressing soft arcs into his skin. “Tell me, what do you feel when you think of your mother?”

Elliott’s face falls ever so slightly, but he recovers. “I guess… I guess I’m just really… sad,” he murmurs. “I feel… helpless. Powerless. If it was a person causing all of her problems, I would have taken care of it a long time ago, but… this is different.” He swallows hard. “I can’t fight this. Not with a gun or my fists, anyway.”

Bloodhound nods. “And how do you feel about your father?”

A spark of anger returns to Elliott’s eyes. He grunts in annoyance, deep in thought for a moment. “He pisses me off. I’d punch him right in the face if he were here now. It would serve him right.”

Bloodhound smiles. The thought of Elliott socking his father in the face seemed amusingly petulant, but they hope they are around to see it one day. “And your brothers?” they ask. “How do you feel about them?

A mix of emotions runs through Elliott’s visage- happiness, fear, despair. “I…” he starts. “I really don’t know. I don’t know how I should feel about them. They piss me off, but… they’re my brothers. I don’t even know if they’re still out there.” He releases Bloodhound’s hands and begins to fidget with his fingers in his lap.

“It is all right to have complicated feelings towards those that have hurt us,” Bloodhound remarks as they settle their own hands onto their knees. Their hands are warm and tingly where he had been touching them. “Our emotions come for us at different times. Some are more devastating than others. Some feel as though they will last forever, but some are fleeting. They can make us feel insignificant. Small, compared to their weight and power. But their gravity cannot consume us unless we allow it to.”

“How do I stop it?” Elliott asks, his voice small and uncertain. “How do I keep from getting sucked in?”

“The answer is simple,” they reply, and they almost smile anticipating his response. “You do not.”

Elliott’s brow furrows, and he gapes at them, open mouthed. Bloodhound wants to laugh, but they hold it back, grateful for their mask for the millionth time. They are not too sure about how he would respond to being laughed at a second time. “Uh… what?” he questions. “You’re telling me that in order to stay in control, I have to… let go of it?”

“Yes.”

“How the hell does that work?” Elliott asks, his tone slightly accusatory. He shifts his weight so that he is leaning back on the palms of his hands.

“Imagine you are in a spacecraft orbiting a planet,” Bloodhound instructs. They gesture with their hands as they speak, weaving their story into being. “Think of that planet as an emotion. It has its own pull, its own gravity. If you turn off the engines, you will be stuck in orbit. If you leave, you will never know whether or not that planet had something valuable for you to discover.”

“So, you’re saying…” Elliott pauses, comically confused. Finally, he sighs, and rubs his eyes tiredly. “What are you saying?”

“Our emotions are not inconveniences, Elliott,” Bloodhound says. “They are lessons in disguise, planets waiting to be explored. We do ourselves a disservice by pushing them away and ignoring them. If we are patient with ourselves, there is much to discover.”

Elliott considers this, his hands still fidgeting. “You’re essentially saying that I need to let myself feel,” he says. Then, the realization drops on him like a ton of bricks. “Oh. Ohhh. You- yeah. Of course. Duh.” He blushes red again, and buries his face in his hands.

“Yes,” Bloodhound replies, smiling fully now. “Allow yourself to experience the emotion. Instead of pushing it away, explore it. Travel alongside it, and take note of what you see. The way may be uncomfortable at times, but you are allowed to feel the pain you bear.”

Elliott remains buried in his hands for a long time, clearly deep in thought. When he emerges, Bloodhound notices that he seems calmer and more level-headed. He looks up at them and smiles, and a strange stilted feeling skips through Bloodhound’s chest. It was almost as if their heart had lost its rhythm for a moment.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, his face red. “I can be a stubborn idiot sometimes. Doesn’t do me any good.”

“We all have our moments of difficulty,” Bloodhound soothes. “But they do not make us less worthy of assistance.”

“Caustic would disagree with you,” Elliott scoffs.

“Caustic would be incorrect,” Bloodhound assures, a flash of annoyance flitting through them at the mention of Nox. “That andskoti would benefit from a great deal of assistance.”

Elliott laughs, and his smile alone is enough to break through the gloom that has been surrounding him all evening. “What does that mean, anyway?” he asks, shaking his head in amusement.

“It most closely means ‘devil’ or ‘demon’,” Bloodhound answers. “It is… unkind, but Doctor Nox is-”

“An asshole, yeah.”

“That is not quite the word I would pick, but yes.” Bloodhound chuckles. “He is.”

They fall quiet, content to sit with him in silence. He’s not even looking at them, but for some reason, it doesn’t matter. Just sitting here with him was enough to still Bloodhound’s thoughts and bring a peace to their soul they had long forgotten.

“And one more thing,” they say, remembering. “The outcome of a match does not lay entirely on your shoulders. The team must work together to bring about a victory.”

“Yeah, but my dumbassery certainly doesn’t help anything,” he grumbles, rolling his neck. Several cracks pop through the air, and he sighs. “I’m sure you never have trouble.”

“We all struggle in the Games,” they respond. “Myself included. Your idolization of me does not improve or indicate my skill level. I am mannlegur, just like you. Human.”

Elliott’s cheeks flush, and he shrugs. “I definitely don’t believe that,” he mutters.

Bloodhound rolls their eyes. They want to take him by the shoulders and hold him there until he stops devaluing himself. “Elliott, the Games are not for the faint of heart,” they assert. “If you were incapable, you would not have survived the first season.”

“You can say I’m a dumbass, you know,” Elliott says, running a hand through his hair and stretching.

“I do not wish to insult you.”

Elliott rolls his eyes, but smiles faintly. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

“That is a shame, Elliott,” Bloodhound replies. “I would not consider you to be such.”

He is quiet for a few moments, deep in thought. “Then you’d be a r-rar- you’d be one of the few who didn’t.” He pushes back the sleeves of his sweater, and Bloodhound is momentarily captivated by his well-muscled arms. Something inside them freezes for a half second, then drops into their stomach, and they are very glad he cannot see their face.

“I am sorry you are feeling helpless,” they say, tearing their eyes away from his warm skin to look into his face. “That is a feeling I am familiar with. Please know that you are not alone.”

“I appreciate it.” Elliott smiles at them again, before getting to his feet and returning to the balcony. Bloodhound follows after putting the pillows back where they belong.

Several silent moments stretch out between the two of them. Bloodhound waits patiently, and gazes out over the busy city. The sun is just setting, and it leaks down past their view, painting the higher windows on the buildings around them in fiery orange. They used to wish they could catch the sun and suspend it right there forever, giving them all the time they needed to think and to grieve. But many years have passed since they were a child, and life does not see fit to slow down and allow them anything.

The last vestiges of the sun soon creep beyond the horizon, and a cold chill fills the air. Bloodhound is quite insulated beneath their thick jacket and woolen sweater, but Elliott begins to shiver, presumably because he is only wearing one layer of clothing.

“Yikes. This weather’s kinda crazy, huh?” he remarks, rolling his sleeves back down.

“I had hoped the seasons would delay their changing for a while longer,” they say, “but time waits for no one.” They’re already shrugging off their jacket before they fully register what they’re doing. “Here. Take this for the evening. I will leave you with your thoughts.” They hand their jacket to a bewildered Elliott, who takes it, unsure.

“Um, are you sure? You wear this thing all the time,” he asks, staring at them hard, his cheeks redder than ever.

“Quite. Leave it on my doorstep, and I will retrieve it in the morning.”

“Okay… if you’re sure.” He slides into the jacket with ease, and Bloodhound is pleased to find that it fits him perfectly. It complements his outfit well, and accentuates his features nicely. “What do you think?” he asks, and he does a slow twirl, examining his new look.

A strange leaping sensation in Bloodhound’s abdomen crackles through their body.

“It suits you,” they say, nodding in approval. Their eyes seem to be glued to his form, admiring his strength and the effort he put into his appearance. Finally, they break their gaze away, shake their head, and begin to move towards the door. “One more thing, Elliott.”

“Yeah?” His head pops up,

“Do not forget what I told you. You are-”

“‘Allowed to feel the pain I bear’, yeah, I got it,” he repeats, jokingly rolling his eyes. “Don’t you worry about me, Bloodhound, I’ll be just fine.” He gives them an exaggerated wink and a thumbs up, and they can’t help but smile.

“Have a good evening, Elliott,” they say, pulling the door open, making sure it would remain unlocked after they left.

“Thanks. You, too.”

When Bloodhound lays in bed that night, their fingers fidget with their hair, working it into twists and plaits and many stranded knots. Their thoughts wander, but always seem to arrive back at Elliott- Elliott smiling, Elliott laughing, even Elliott staring out over the balcony, his eyes shining. As they yank a brush through their hair, their chest pulses pleasantly with the memory of Elliott wrapped in their jacket, and they smile freely, openly, unobscured in the darkness of their room. Elliott Witt, they think. What a lovely person he is.

#apex legends #apex #miragehound #mirage apex #bloodhound apex #mirage apex legends #bloodhound apex legends #bloodhound #elliott witt #elliott witt apex legends #my writing #apex fanfiction #apex legends fanfiction

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cloudhayato · 3 years

Text

Greek Yogurt Melancholy

Happy @khrobscureshipweek guys

Lancia/Giannini

Lancia jerked awake from his nap. His heart was pounding and his face was drenched in sweat. Looking down, for a split second he expected to see blood on his hands, but there was nothing. Just the calloused and scarred skin after years of use. He blinked, needing a moment to process all this, and then let out a heavy sigh.

Nightmares again, huh? Even though it was all over, he still couldn't get a good night's sleep. He probably never will, and he doesn't deserve it. Even if Mukuro made him do it, all their deaths are still on him. He's the one who slit their throats and crushed their skulls and-

Yeah, he needed to do anything other than think right now. Getting up to his feet, he felt the weight of exhaustion push down on his shoulders, and dragged his feet towards the kitchen.

His apartment wasn't anything big or stylish. It was a small space with only a bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom. That was all he needed though, he wasn't one for excess amenities.

Opening his fridge door, Lancia glanced at the almost barren shelves and felt a migraine coming on. Reaching towards the back, he grabbed a carton of greek yogurt and went to his drawers to pull out a spoon. The sour taste would help him feel more awake, and it was one of the few things he genuinely enjoyed.

After he sat down at his table, he popped the lid off, and felt his heart fall. Empty. Why would he even put the empty carton back in the fridge? Did he really hate himself that much? This was the sole event that almost made him consider therapy, but he pointedly ignored those thoughts and forcefully got up.

He'd just go to the store and buy more greek yogurt. It wasn't the end of the world, no need to be dramatic about it.

...Except he didn't have a car, and glancing at the clock, which said 7pm, he knew the store would close two hours from now. He wouldn't make it on foot. There was another option available for him, but he didn't feel good about it. Asking for things made him feel weak, and this would put him in the vicinity of another person, when he really would rather be alone.

Swallowing his pride, which was almost as sour as the yogurt he was craving, he walked towards his rotary phone and slowly inputted the numbers.

"Hello?" The familiar voice of Giannini said from the other line. "Mr. Lancia, is that you?"

He still didn't get how Giannini always knew it was him. Technology just never made sense to him.

"Yeah, Giannini, it's me." He answered. "I'm sorry to be asking you this so late, but could you drive me to the store?"

God, he sounded pathetic. He would never willingly learn how to drive one of those deathtraps though. Last time he tried to stop a plane from crashing, let's say the plane still crashed and his presence didn't really affect anything.

"Oh, yes of course Mr. Lancia!" Giannini chirped, as bright and chipper as always. "I'll be there in five minutes, just hold on one moment!"

"Yeah, thank you, Giannini."

Lancia waited for the familiar 'click' to signal the end of the call, and then put the receiver down. Pressing his forehead against the wall, he was already regretting this decision. Just thinking about it was draining, and he sounded so pathetic asking someone to come pick him up just so he could get some yogurt.

There was nothing he could do about it now though. He'd dug his hole and now he had to lay in it, no changing that now.

Lancia stayed like that the entire five minutes. His mind raced through constant mental turmoil, but that was his default state so it was fine, until he heard the doorbell ring. Finally removing his head from the wall, he steeled his face in a default expression that looked like it could kill you, and answered the door.

At first, Lancia was confused. He had to look down to speak to everyone, but he wasn't expecting to look so far down. He also wasn't looking at Giannini. On the ground was this little metal disk thing. A hand had come out of the top, and was still hovering by the doorbell, before receding back into what could only be some kind of machine.

"Mr. Lancia!"

He didn't expect the machine to shout his name. It took him so by surprise that he almost crushed it under his foot on instinct, only stopping himself at the last moment. That voice was Giannini's.

A high pitched shriek erupted from the disk at this attempted murder. "Please wait a moment—"

"Where are you?" Lancia interrupted, looking around the hallway in confusion before back to the disk. "Is this thing like a phone?"

"Exactly that! This is a roomba I've modified to have a variety of extra uses than just vacuuming." Giannini gushed, before calming down and sounding a bit more sheepish. "I'm sorry to have startled you, I should have given you fair notice beforehand."

Most of that flew over Lancia's head, especially the roomba part, but the moment it came up, he stopped caring. Not that he'd say that out loud, Giannini sounded excited and shutting him down would be rude.

"It's fine. Where are you?" Lancia asked, trying not to sound too exhausted.

"Ah, I'm parked outside." Giannini answered.

The 'roomba' turned around and pointed towards the stairs. He lived on the second floor so just at the bottom would be the exit.

Lancia just grunted in affirmation.

He stepped over the roomba and doubled his pace. This already felt like it was taking forever. He literally just wanted some Greek Yogurt, that was it. If only life itself didn't hate him with a burning passion.

The staircase went in a circle pattern. Not really a spiral staircase, but how most stairs in a small space worked. Lancia just jumped the railing and fell perfectly through the middle part where no stairs touched. It was just the second floor after all.

He landed on his feet, knees bent a little, but he barely felt the landing anyways. The building manager behind his desk was looking at him with wide eyes, but he pointedly didn't make eye contact as he walked past. He really didn't need to deal with that right now.

Opening the door to the parking lot, Lancia recognized Giannini's car immediately. It was bright yellow, and the mechanic had told him it was a 'buggy' as if that meant anything to him. It was small and cramped, and Lancia could barely fit himself in it, but it's not like he was going to make Giannini make, yes he made that buggy, a whole new car just for him.

Giannini excitedly waved at him through the windshield. Lancia was grateful he remembered not to honk the horn this time. The loud noise activated his fight or flight, and he was hardwired to always choose fight. He still felt bad about completely crushing the engine, but Giannini assured him it was fine and he could fix it.

None of that mattered now though, and as Lancia opened the car door, he finally felt like he was getting somewhere. The roomba jumped in after him and crawled behind the seats. He didn't have anything more to say about the invention so he just didn't acknowledge it.

"It's been awhile." Giannini said conversationally as he started the engine. "What have you been up to?"

"Mulling over the sins of my past." Lancia answered honestly.

"Okay!" Giannini smiled uncomfortably. "I was working on upgrading my microwave in order to stabilize isotopes."

"Hm. Did it work?"

"No."

The conversation quieted down to an awkward silence after that, both unsure where to go from there. It was difficult for them to relate to one another. Giannini was the son of a brilliant inventor trying to live up to his father's legacy, and Lancia spent most of his early life possessed and forced to kill. Finding common ground was a challenge.

"What kind of greek yogurt do you like?" Giannini spoke up after a while, sounding nervous.

"...Regular." Lancia mumbled, feeling a little embarrassed talking about this.

"Oh, an excellent choice!" Gianni said, with a little more enthusiasm than necessary. "I'm a big fan of vanilla myself."

"Vanilla's fine. I just prefer it more sour." Lancia responded, and from there they descended into a very thoughtful conversation about flavours and their own preferences.

It was the most Lancia had spoken since returning to Italy.

Before they knew it, they arrived at the store. Lancia was actually genuinely surprised that the car ride wasn't another long, agonizing ordeal to go through. He actually felt a little energized, as strange as it was to say. He'd need to ruminate over this later when he got back to his apartment and was trying to sleep.

"Well, we're here!" Giannini said needlessly, since they'd been parked for around two minutes already.

"We are." Lancia repeated in his gruff voice, and then opened the door and stepped out.

It was a small little corner store that was several corners too far. Still, it was cheap and never too busy, and that ticked all of Lancia's boxes. Only one automatic door worked and Lancia had to step around the frozen one. He walked through the aisles, not making conversation with the cashier and the one other customer present.

After a bit of searching, he found what he was looking for. The long sought after prize, Greek Gods Greek Yogurt, and in this moment he'd never felt so happy before to finally buy some gross dairy product.

As he went to grab the yogurt from the fridge, something else caught his attention. A little notice advertising a sale. 'Buy one get one free!' it said, and after some hesitation, he grabbed a second one.

Quickly, he paid for them and left the store. Giannini waved at him again as he stepped into the parking lot, and Lancia looked away, feeling kind of embarrassed. Hurrying over, he opened the door and took his seat beside Giannini.

"Did you find what you were looking for, Mr. Lancia?" Giannini asked, looking at him curiously.

Without saying anything, Lancia handed him the second greek yogurt. It was vanilla.

Giannini let out a small gasp as he took the yogurt, and out of the corner of his eye, Lancia could see the mechanic's lips quirk up in a delighted smile.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Lancia!" Giannini sounded so happy it was almost ridiculous.

"Yeah, no problem." Lancia said, and after a moment of hesitation. "It's just Lancia, by the way."

Giannini's eyes softened at that, as he handed over plastic spoons he had in his glove compartment along with various tools.

"Okay then. Thank you, Lancia."

Maybe this outing wasn't as bad as Lancia thought. The greek yogurt tasted a little sweeter on his tongue, and he found that he didn't mind as much.

It was nice.

#khr #katekyo hitman reborn #khrobscureshipweek #khr giannini #khr lancia #Giannini doesn't have a fandom shorthand so I have to name this ship #For organization purposes on my blog #Giancia #There we go #97 incomprehensible moments #That's my writing tag now #Anyways this was a request and it definitely is obscure so I thought I'd submit it to the even #t #Yes someone request Giannini/Lancia with the prompt Greek Yogurt #I love making typos in long tags :/

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nehawriter16 · 3 years

Text

2020 / 24

There are only 2 things I can do on an airplane – dose up on sleeping meds and pass out, or order one too many cappuccinos, keep my exhausted brain awake, and will it to talk to paper. The flight from JFK was in the afternoon and in the chaos of leaving for the airport early in the morning, I forgot to pack my pills.

Two cappuccinos in, my hands were shaking and begging to be typing out the Mrs. Maisel speed monologue that constantly runs in my head. Even though there is a month left in this year, I decided to do my annual New Years Eve post. Over the last 3 days, I’ve been drilling it down to go from gibberish to slightly readable.

Here it is.

Like the rest of the world, in January, I was blissfully unaware of the shitstorm that would follow. I got into several colleges on the East Coast for a Master’s in Finance degree. Every day, I would race down the stairs with my laptop and show my parents: another admit, another scholarship! On the surface, I was making pro and con lists for each one. Deep down, my heart had already picked Fordham in New York. It was New York. Nothing else would cut it.

The day after I turned 24 in January, I also met my (now ex) boyfriend on the internet. Completely by accident, he saw my profile because a mutual friend followed my writing. Two days later, she texted me and said he would like to talk to me. Did I want to talk to some boy studying in Paris? I was single and bored and already had my year laid out for me, so why wouldn’t I?

It moved quickly. Three months later, we had been speaking every day and were exclusive. We had not hung out in person. It was stupid, but I had never come across anybody who liked me as much as he did. In every relationship I had been in before this, I always knew I was more emotionally involved. I fell in love with his devotion to me – he would stay home (who stays home in Paris!) and choose to spend virtual time with me over going to clubs with his friends. I watched myself become the epicenter of his life and thought – this is how much I’ve always wanted to mean to somebody.

In March when the pandemic hit and India shut down, my father sent a car to pick me up from my internship in Bombay, where I had moved two weeks ago. I didn’t pack so much as my toothbrush – the driver brought me home and I had no idea that it would be months before I’d get to leave again.

Morales stayed high in the beginning – we thought it would end in 21 days, then 2 months, then 5. It has taken over the whole year now, and despite us gridlocking it into “2020,” we all know the first half of 2021 will also be filled with masks and sanitizers and not hugging your friends. I wonder if I will ever settle into somebody’s arms without cringing again.

March melted into April, that melted into one long drawl until suddenly it was August and college was beginning the following week. I found myself refreshing the US consulate’s website absent mindedly one afternoon, and all appointments that had been suspended suddenly showed you a tiny little bar that read “reschedule.” I screamed and clicked.

I had thought I would be spending the year stuck at home, awake and attending classes at odd hours. While my classmates went to happy hours in dive bars in Manhattan, I would be in my bedroom, still chained to my parents’ curfews and ultimatums. But then suddenly, I was standing before a US immigration officer in Bombay, and he was telling me I had been granted my student visa.

All that was left to do was book a flight to New York, and break the news to my boyfriend, who was on his way to my abandoned apartment at this very moment for our first date, 7 months after we first began speaking. He had come home in March when France went into lockdown, and it was starting to feel like a throuple with long distance, the third and very present member in our relationship.

I packed up the belongings I had left there, and we sat across from each other on the double bed. I kissed him first. There were roadblocks, and our personalities and views clashed on so many important things, but I loved him. Two days later, I said: I have to leave for New York in 3 weeks. He didn’t take it well.

In September, I landed at JFK. When the wheels of the plane made contact with the runway, I was smiling behind a mask I’d had on for 16 hours. On the Air Train to Manhattan, I felt a sense of happiness wash over me and toyed with the possibility that maybe I wouldn’t mind if it was just me in this city. I would be okay alone.

I found an apartment, a roommate, signed a lease in a beautiful building in Hell’s Kitchen, walking distance from college. I met lots of people from my class and instantly picked out the ones I wanted to become good friends with. I dove straight into academics and extra curriculars at college – after 5 months of nothing happening, life was suddenly exciting again.

When New York lit up every night, it felt like anything was possible. I started eating better and walking a lot. My hair grew out from the bad haircut I’d gotten the year before. Coffee was no longer just coffee, it was finding a new café and walking through Central Park. Drinks were not just drinks, they were about accidentally stumbling onto a secret bar in the East Village, finding favorite spots in the neighborhood, letting a cute waiter recommend a cocktail to me even though I was perfectly capable of picking one myself.

The boyfriend and I were fighting more than usual. I was getting tired of it. We had discussed a life together, but it was slowly and surely becoming clear to me that I would resent myself for making big compromises for a person who still had a lot of growing up left to do. As New York got cold, I did too – without trying. When one particular argument got really bad, I asked for a break from the relationship. He didn’t like it.

A week later, I woke up to a girl sending me screenshots on Instagram of her conversation with him (pre me asking for a break) on a dating app, and without getting into details, I will tell you it was not a conversation anybody with a girlfriend should have been having. I should have been broken in half on the inside, but now I could finally say, without feeling guilty – this relationship was not working, nobody was happy, and you were so unhappy you thought talking to other women was okay. I spent all of one day drinking with a friend in Central Park and sobbing myself to sleep.

But mostly, what hit me after the initial shock had died down was a tsunami of relief. I felt lighter, freer. I try not to think too hard about the trauma that comes from finding out that the person you think is so devoted to you, and definitely loves you more than you love them (or so you think) is being unfaithful, because it hurts a part of me that is already very bruised from all the things that have happened to me before. So I don’t.

But it was New York. I was young and smart and there was a wine shop down the block that sold $14 bottles of Moscato. I didn’t need much else to know I would be okay. At 20, I would have jumped right back into going on dates every other night to distract myself from what had happened, then never called any of those men back. At 24, this emotional speed bump resulted in a lot of quiet introspection in my bedroom. I spent a lot of time alone, on the phone with friends, and walking around the city. I had learnt to like my own company enough to not fill a suddenly empty void with anybody else’s, even though there have been several tempting offers in this past month, and sometimes, I have succumbed to them, but mostly I am very strict with who deserves my company.

It was nice to spend that second month in New York by myself. I owed absolutely nobody a single minute of my time. No one asked me questions, or called me and expected me to share my day unless I wanted to, and once I had worked hard and cleared out the things from my to do list for the day, time stretched out before me and I had the autonomy to decide the smallest thing down to who to meet, what to eat, how much to sleep.

I didn’t let my academics and ambition suffer – no matter what happens, I never do and I never will. The grades stay up – it’s built into my system. I am back home now and just 2 days in, I find myself wishing I hadn’t left New York. I was starting to build a life I liked there, and the only price I had to pay for it was a 4 pm sunset. It would have been slightly lonely, but I like the time I spend by myself. I worked hard to become like that.

This month, I will see my friends here at home. I’ve missed them. I can’t believe I grew up in this city and I already feel so alienated from it just from 60 days of living away. Is that how badly I wanted to leave?

I might be dramatic and fly back on my 25th birthday, so that I can say, “I was on a flight,” and ignore the slowly expanding bubble of dread that comes with turning that old. I like the ambiguity of airports and I’m the sort of inherently sad person who would love to be alone and unreachable on my birthday.

I acknowledge that my problems this year have been so small in the face of those of us who have lost family members, contracted the virus, had to give up internships or had jobs taken from us, been torn away from family, or had to make it through this alone.

I feel almost guilty that good things have happened to me in a year that has predominantly been bad for almost everyone else. I feel apologetic, even though from 2017 to 2019, I was treated like life’s sick joke so I should deserve these good things that I worked hard for.

I definitely feel myself growing up, though. Emotionally I find I have a clearer idea of what I want from relationships and friendships, and I don’t second guess cutting off anybody who doesn’t serve that purpose or messes with my mental peace. I still have days when self-doubt comes over for a cup of tea, leaves me weak in the knees, but most days are free of it. I am also moving out of that chameleon phase where I mirrored what I thought a room full of new people would want from me, and I am unapologetically myself, irrespective of who’s watching.

Last year I remember wishing for something stupid, like “I wish there was somebody to kiss on New Years Eve,” because I’ve never had anybody to smack lips with when it’s midnight. This year, I don’t care. I’ll kiss myself in the mirror, for all I care. I love her. She’s my homie.

It’s been a weird year. I know who I was in 2019, and I remember wondering if I was proud of her. Things were still in purgatory then. But I steered my life and brought it back on track. This year, I am proud of myself without doubting it.

There’s no measuring scale for personal growth, but if there was, I feel at least a couple of inches taller in 2020.

#personal 2020 writing

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fanfictiondotmess · 4 years

Text

“Hello?” Danny called, his voice the only sound other than the harsh buzz of the fluorescent lights. He gripped the straps of his backpack, shoulders tensed as he made his way down a seemingly endless hall of yellow wallpaper and damp carpeting. There were rooms lining the halls, and each room was identical. There were empty rooms with the exit leading to another hallway full of more rooms, more fluorescent lighting, and more of the same wallpaper.

Heart heavy in his stomach, he reached into his pocket to check his phone for the umpteenth time. No signal. The time had been replaced with nonsensical images but, other than that, nothing was changed. He could look through his messages, photos, and anything else one could access without internet and signal. So, other than for a trip down nostalgia lane, it was useless. Feeling that it might come in handy later, he chose to conserve battery power and pocket the phone.

Over and over again, Danny ran the events of that morning through his mind. He'd left the dorms at the same time he always did in order to meet Sam and Tucker for the cafeteria's Sunday brunch. Everything looked normal, save for one hall where a light had gone out. There were some extra shadows, and some of them fell on the wall adjacent to the cafeteria doors. Some impulse struck him, and he touched the wall. When his hand reached where the wall was, it went through. Still groggy from the weariness of a Wednesday morning, he did not react quickly enough to catch his balance before he tumbled through the wall and fell.

When he woke, he had a throbbing pain in his head and felt an uncomfortable dampness seeping through his clothes. The first thing he saw was the same thing he'd been seeing for god knew how long. Endless doors and halls.

“Is anyone there?” He called, yelling as loudly as he could. Amity Park had many strange and high-tech additions, courtesy of his parents. It wouldn't be impossible for this to be one of them. But it felt... different. There was a different energy. An intense sense of isolation. Of being lost. Worst of all, though, was the feeling of being watched.

A low grumble came from the room to his left. Desperate, he quickly entered the room to find its source, praying that it was the grumbling of a disheveled professor or maybe some inventor. However, his hopes were quickly dashed and replaced with crippling fear. Inside the room, a humanoid creature stood on all fours. It had a fleshy look to it with an awful, misshaped head. It was facing the door in front of it, turned away from Danny. The longer he stared, the more agitated the creature seemed to become and, within seconds, it had turned to face him.

“I-...” The words died on his lips and he began backing away. The creature before him, though displaying some human-like qualities, was clearly not something that could be reasoned with. Finally, his flight reflex activated and he was running before he'd realized he'd decided to run. He could hear heavy footsteps and growls following behind him. “That's it. I'm going ghost.” Danny transformed and instantly took advantage of his increased speed and ability to phase through walls. Eventually, he lost it.

“Man...” Danny landed and transformed back into his human form, taking a knee to catch his breath. Like before, he was surrounded with the sound of the terribly artificial light and the uncomfortable dampness of the dull carpet beneath him.

“Well now! Look who we have here.”

A voice cut through the monotonous sound; calm, collected, cocky.

“It seems you've found yourself in quite the unfortunate place, little badger.” Vlad phased through the wall, but quickly shifted from his ghost to his human form. Despite the chaos of the whatever the heck they were in, Vlad still seemed well put together. Perhaps a few bags under his eyes, but the lighting made it hard to tell.

“I should've guessed you had something to do with this.” Danny rose quickly to his feet, clenching his fists in preparation for a fight.

“I'm flattered. But this isn't my work.” Vlad said, gesturing admittedly.

“Yeah? Then why are you here?” Danny asked.

“I could ask you the same thing, Daniel. Why are you here?” Vlad asked, his question laced with condescension. Danny scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “No answers? Hmm?”

“I was at school one minute, and the next thing I knew, I was here. When I woke up-”

“Woke up?” Vlad interrupted, a look of concern glimpsing over his otherwise stoic face.

“Yeah. I kinda hit my head on something. I think.” As he spoke, he unconsciously rubbed his head. It still hurt, but it was far from the most pressing issue on his mind. Vlad took a step toward Danny placing one hand on his head and using the other to part his hair. “Hey! What're you doing?” He swatted at Vlad's hand. “Ow!”

“Stand still. If you have a head injury, you could be in danger.”

“I'm fine. What? Are you going to have me walk around reciting the capitals of the states so I don't wind up in a coma?” He spoke with heavy sarcasm and frustration, but he gave up on fighting it. Vlad placed a thumb under Danny's chin and tilted his head upward. Likely to check for dilation of the eyes. The gesture, though, made his heart skip a beat. Being that close and with such an uncharacteristic-seeming tenderness felt... Shut up, Danny. You're being an idiot. It's Vlad.

“-And because of that, you are going to be left vulnerable to the more Do you understand?” Vlad spoke, his tone indicating the end of some sort of explanation. Oops. Didn't pay attention to a single thing he said.

“Uhh....”

“Are you having trouble concentrating?” Vlad asked, finally concluding his assessment and letting Danny have his personal space back.

“No. Just run it by me again.” Danny lowered his head, a bit embarrassed. Vlad sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Fine, but try listening this time.” Vlad placed his hand against the wall. “This dimension operates under different rules than our own. I've marked my path, etching a symbol into each wall I pass and each door I enter. Despite that, I have made no progress in solving this little puzzle. When back-tracking, every symbol is gone.” He paused for emphasis. “This place plays tricks on your mind. If you have a head injury, you are far more likely to succumb to hallucinations. And, for some reason, using our ghost halves weaken our fortitude. It is very likely that, were one of us to lose grip of reality, they will become one of the monsters that lurk these halls.”

“How do you know all this?” Danny asked, the magnitude of his situation slowly starting to settle on him.

“I've spent many years as Plasmius. I've learned many, many things. More than you could hope to fathom.” A smirk crept across his face. “So I think it would be wise for you to join me. I am your only hope of escape.” Vlad let the silence sit between himself and the male who had long since decided that Vlad was his enemy. It was rather... cute. The hero complex and firm but entirely naive grip on morality was entertaining to say the least.

“In your dreams, cheese head.” Danny stepped back and transformed. “I'll be out of here in no time. Enjoy the soggy floors!” He shouted as he flew down the hall, putting as much space between himself and Vlad as possible. It was hard to tell if he was making progress. Everything looked the same.

As he rounded the corner, one of the same humanoid monsters sat in the center of the hallway.. It rocked rocked back and forth, a high pitched screech seeping from its mouth. When it saw Danny, it immediately threw itself onto its four, distorted limbs. Skin, rotting skin sagged from its body exposing holes. It was as if the thing had been decomposing.

“Alright, creep. This time, I guarantee I won't be running away. You're way uglier than I remember.” Danny's hands glowed as he summoned the energy for an ectoblast. “Maybe this'll help!” He launched two powerful blows at the thing. The resulting explosion knocked down parts of the wall and a burst of drywall and dust creating a small fog in the hall.

Danny landed and waited for the debris to settle. Whatever this nightmare world was, he wasn't going to forget the most important rule of living in a horror movie. Well, aside from not having sex. And that was the good ol' double tap.

His thoughts were interrupted by a horrific screech. A shadow emerged from the debris, moving faster than anything he'd ever seen. Before he had a chance to react, the thing had sliced at his chest, leaving a deep cut. He kicked the thing, but it had no effect. Every move in his arsenal failed to do anything but make the thing even more volatile.

“This is insane.” Danny leaped backwards, gasping for breath. With no other choice, he ran. He flew through walls, making erratic turns. It was the same way he'd lost the monster earlier. Every time he looked back, though, he would see the thing racing down the hall or coming out through a door. Sometimes, it would even walk through the walls. This shouldn't be possible. Danny flew faster and faster, but there was no reprieve.

Danny collided hard with a figure and fell hard on the floor. Looking up, he saw Vlad. Vlad's expression was serious. He pulled Danny to his feet and covered his eyes.

“You need to turn human again, now.” He demanded. Danny could hear the screams of the creature as it neared them. With no other choice, Danny transformed. Vlad led him backwards down a series of halls. The longer they walked, Danny tripping and stumbling as he tried to keep pace with Vlad. Finally, the sound of the creatures began to fade. Vlad uncovered Danny's eyes.

“Are you still so sure you don't need my help?”

#danny phantom #vlad masters #backrooms au #fanfic #phanfic

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