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tightjeansjavi · 6 months

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The Menu | Part 1

“Vices to fill a Void”

A/N: so I decided this is gonna be a two-parter because if theres one thing I’m good at, it’s edging my dear readers ;)

~word count: 3.4k~

Pairing | dark! Joel Miller x f! reader

Summary: Joel Miller has a menu concocted just for his customers. Pills? He’s got ‘em. Guns? Ammo? Name your price. Booze to warm the broken souls and hearts of the QZ? give him a holler. Everything comes with a price, of course. Joels got somethin’ special on his menu. Somethin’ that he doesn’t advertise freely. Y’gotta want it. Y’gotta have a desire that matches his own, only then will he offer what you seek.

Warnings: dark themes, two feral cats energy, mentions of deceased bodies, Joel is an asshole that knows how to get exactly what he wants. Dark! Joel, post!outbreak, Joel and Tess run the black market in the QZ, age gap, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her late 20’s, mentions of drugs, smoking, alcohol, graphic depictions of violence, reader is a spitfire with a no-shit taking attitude, enemies to lovers type beat, Joel likes to play mind games, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is Angel, +18 minors dni!

The first time you meet the infamous Joel Miller is in his and Tess’s apartment in one of the few available Boston QZ apartments. Rumor on the street is that Joel and Tess are an item. When in all actuality, they’re business partners that occasionally fuck. His options, however, are not just limited to Tess. He likes to keep that part of his business on the low. He’s got a reputation, sure. But he doesn’t boast it proudly like a peacock. He knows his expertise, and he knows it well. His purpose in the structure of the QZ was smuggling. He’d bring pills, booze, ammo, guns, and anything else that was desirable. He’d trade for ration cards; a hefty amount of them. Sometimes, he’d allow his customers to trade their bodies, but he was quite picky, and it ain’t had anything to do with women’s appearances. In that department, he indulged in all body types. What he was most intrigued about was their minds. Their ability to survive, and most importantly, what they desired most in this shit-hole world.

He liked it when they were verbal. Silence was not a name in his game. He liked it when they showed up at his doorstep knowing exactly what it was that they wanted from him. He could play all the cards, and he played them well. He could be empathetic if they asked for it. He could pretend to love them just for the night. He could yank their hair, dig his nails into their flesh and call them a dirty, useless whore, but only if it was requested. See, he wasn’t all that brutal of a man, but if you weren’t careful and direct, he might send you home with more than just an ache between your thighs. He knew how to fuck, and he enjoyed it almost as much as he enjoyed beating a man senseless, almost.

You, however, held no interest to know what laid beneath his weathered jeans. You showed up wanting one thing, and one thing only. A vice to fill the hole in the void of your heart. You knew that Joel Miller’s menu was just what the doctor ordered.

Tess and Joel were seated at the kitchen table going through their supplies for the day. They had their usual customers, but Joel was always intrigued to see new faces walk through his door.

A cigarette dangled between his lips as he flipped through a stack of ration cards. The scent of tobacco wafted through the cracks in the door frame as your knuckles rapped firmly along the chipped paint. You knocked once, then twice five seconds later. It was customary like a code. Not that Joel or Tess had any concerns with FEDRA; they were a part of his regular cycle of customers too.

“Come in.” His voice was thick, deep, and dripping with authority.

The tip of the cigarette glowed bright orange as he inhaled the toxic fumes. The nicotine that coursed through his system calmed his nerves. Everyone had their own skeletons in their closets after all.

He paused his counting momentarily as he listened to the door handle squeak before it was pushed open.

“Sit.” He rasped with his freehand gesturing to the open seat in front of the table. “State your business.”

You watched the way the smoke coiled around his head like an ashy halo through the stagnant air. His brow cocked in your direction as his eyes zoned in on the stack of ration cards that you pulled from your jacket pocket.

“I was told that your menu is designed to cater to one's vices. I’m needin’ a bottle of booze, and a pack of smokes if you got any.” You placed the ration cards along the table before leaning back against the chairs frame.

“We ain’t got a whole pack, unfortunately. Five cards gets you five sticks, and three gets ya a bottle of hooch.” He declared in his warm Texas twang.

He was handsome, you’d give him that satisfaction only.

“I’ve got ten cards total. How about you throw’n two more smokes to make it even?” You countered smoothly as you crossed your arms against your chest.

“A negotiator, huh? Well, I'll tell ya what, girlie. Y’got yourself a deal. Y’new around here? Ain’t seen ya before.” He knew pretty much every face in the QZ. But yours remained a mystery. He wasn’t all too big of a fan of mysteries.

“Don’t think that is any of your concern, Joel.” You ignored his question as you passed off the cards.

“True.” He mused with a grin tugging across his lips. ‘S’alright. I’ll jus’ end up findin’ out about you in my own way.” He shrugged with the utmost casualness that sent your blood boiling under the surface. “Besides, my customers always end up comin’ back for more.” He grabbed a bottle of hooch and seven freshly rolled cigarettes concealed in tinfoil.

“There ain’t much for you to find out. Wouldn’t go wastin’ your time.” You grabbed the bottle swiftly before tucking it into the inner lining of your jacket. Before he could send you on your way, however, you unrolled the tinfoil to inspect the handiwork. Once you were satisfied with the merch, you plucked one of the cigarettes and placed it between your lips. “You got a light I can borrow?”

His nose twitched and his eyes squinted tightly before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. He beckoned you silently to lean in as he ignited the flame.

“Y’know, these are a nasty habit to break.” He leaned back into his chair with his own cigarette dying between his lips. “Ain’t nothin’ like a good ole’ fashioned nicotine addiction.”

You scoffed under your breath as you took a deep inhale of the cancerous smoke that filled your lungs. “Says the man puffin’ away on one right in front of my face.”

He didn’t even look half fazed by your remark as he blew the smoke drifting from his lips off to the side.

You stared at one another a second longer before you stood up from your chair and snatched the cigarettes from the table.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Joel Miller. See ya around.”

Before he could respond, you were already slipping back out his apartment door and into the hallway.

“Man, she’s got a pair of balls on her, huh?” Tess mused from her seat alongside him.

“Yeah,” He smirked. “She sure does.”

The next time you saw Joel Miller was a few weeks later. You were assigned with assisting in dumping deceased infected into the deep pits where their flesh would be burned and melted away and all that would be remaining was their brittle bones. You had done this job enough times to get used to the putrid stench of rotting flesh. Others, however, couldn’t stand the smell. Some would pass out, others would empty what little was in their stomachs.

A denim-clad shoulder brushed against you as you lifted another body from the truck bed.

“Fancy seein’ you here, Angel.” Joel’s voice was muffled through the bandana he wore across his face, but you knew it was him just from that Texas twang of his.

Your eyes rolled back as walked past him and dropped the body into the flames that engulfed it.

“C’mon now.” He mused. “I know y’heard me.” He pressed.

“Fuck off, Joel.” You muttered under your breath as you bumped his shoulder harshly.

“Y’break that nasty habit yet?” He asked with a twinge of curiosity.

“Nope. Don’t plan on it either.”

Much to your relief, he walked away without speaking another word. It was short-lived however as he was standing right behind you in line to receive your ration cards for the day. The air was hot and almost unbearable as you wiped the sweat of your brow along your sleeve. When the cards were placed into your outstretched palm you shoved them deep into your pocket. The pay wasn’t worth the work that you put in.

Before you could disappear around the corner of the alley to head home, a hand grasped your shoulder rather firmly and before you could reach for your concealed weapon, your back was met with something hard that nearly knocked the air from your lungs.

Joel Miller.

“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doin’, Joel?!” You hissed under your breath as he flipped you around to face him.

“Got a proposition for ya, girlie. Trust me, you’ll want in.” His voice dipped down an octave as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of pills. Painkillers you suspected. The kind of shit that people could easily find themselves getting addicted to.

“And what makes you fuckin’ think that I would wanna do anythin’ for you?” What the fuck was this guys problem? The nerve he had.

“Cus’ I know there’s somethin’ that you want. Somethin’ that you need. Besides, you ain’t gonna make it long here if you don’t start usin’ people. S’the only way to survive in this world now. So, here’s what you’re gonna do. Tess and I wanna branch out further and in order to do that, we gotta get the rest of FEDRA off our backs.”

“You ain’t know shit about me, Joel. I’m doin’ just fine on my own.” You ripped your arm from his grasp, but he was quicker than you expected.

“I ain’t askin’ you, Angel. I’m tellin.’ Now, you’re gonna take these pills, and you’re gonna go on over to those guys o’there, and you’re gonna trade them. Y’get half the ration cards from the deal. Seem fair?” His tall stature loomed over you like a shadow being casted across the sun. Everything about this man was massive. His hands. His bulging arms. His shoulders. He was built like a fucking fridge, and he clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“Is this what you do to all of your customers? Corner them into alleys and force them to do your dirty work for you?” You scoffed as you ripped the baggy from his hand. “And I get all the cards. I ain’t gonna let you just go and boss me around for half.”

“Jus’ the pretty ones that have a mouth to ‘em.” He mused with a wicked grin. “Fine. Y’get all the cards, but only if they agree to trade. Go on now, Angel. Time's a tickin away.” He nudged you forward with the palm of his calloused hand resting along your lower back.

“Asshole.” You hissed under your breath as you stashed the pills into your pocket before departing from the alley. If there was one thing you were good at, it was getting men to give you exactly what you wanted. You could flutter your lashes, giggle, flirt a little and their little egos would be crushed to dust beneath your fingertips.

“Hey boys, got a minute?” You spoke in a honeyed voice as the three officers diverted their attention towards you.

Joel watched from the shadows of the alley as you worked your charm like a fiddle. He was impressed with your natural skills. You certainly were no pushover. He did wonder if this was all a facade that you wore confidently. He thought briefly about what it would be like to have you beneath his sheets. What would you request from him? Would you ask him to be sweet and gentle? To fuck you like a man oughta? Or, would you be willing to share your deepest, darkest, filthy desires with him? He hoped for the latter.

When the deal was done, you made your way back across the street. Maybe Joel Miller was right. Maybe you should start using people for what they have. Who gave a fuck about morale anyway?

“How’d it go?” he inquired with his broad arms crossed against his chest as he leaned back against the brick wall.

“They wouldn’t take the bait unfortunately.” You let out a faux sigh. “Guess the deal is off.”

“What a shame, Angel. I surely thought you had it in ya. Guess I was wrong. Oh well. Good luck to ya.” He pushed himself off the wall only to find himself being pushed right up against it. Your palm lay flat against his chest as your freehand reached into your pocket and pulled out a single ration card.

His brow raised curiously as you went to slip the card into his back pocket. His eyes widened when he felt the warmth of your fingers searing through his jeans. At this close proximity, he got a proper whiff of your natural scent, and his cock pathetically twitched in the tight confines of the denim.

“Here’s your half of the deal. Decided to be generous.” You whispered through the thick growing tension.

His hand reached up to grab your wrist but before he could make contact with your skin, you were already stepping away from his reach. Your fingers rose in a mock salute before you turned on your heel and walked away.

Fuck. She’s perfect.

The next time Joel Miller saw you it's past curfew. Hours to be exact. The Boston QZ streets are quiet sans the labored breathing and deep grunts coming from a group of low-life scumbags.

“I already told you, I don’t have shit on me!” You emptied out your pockets to show these fuckers that you weren’t messing around. Would raw honesty really keep these men from tearing you apart?

“Bullshit. Y’got stuff back at your place, right? C’mon now darlin’, don’t lie to us. We’ve seen you hangin’ around Miller. Y’workin’ with him?” The man that had you pinned against the brick wall pressed further.

“Oh, for fuck sakes! Are y’all really that boneheaded to think that i’m gonna be carryin’ merch on me out in the open like this?!” You yelled out of frustration as you tried to pin your wrists free to reach your concealed knife.

“How about you shut the fuck up and tell us where Joel’s apartment is, and we won’t have to kill you. How’s that sound?” The man twisted your wrists tightly to the point where you were just waiting to hear a sickening crack.

“I don’t know where his apartment is, asshole. And even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell the likes of you because i’m not a fuckin’ rat!” You hissed between your gritted teeth as you threw your head back in one swift movement right into the face of the man that was holding you hostage. His nose crunched audibly from the force as he stumbled back right onto his ass.

Blood pooled and gushed down his lips as he yelled out a slew of profanities in your direction. Just as you were reaching for your knife, it was knocked from your grasp and clattered to the concrete out of your reach.

A fist collided with your face that sent you slamming into the brick wall with your ears wildly ringing.

You detected a familiar voice through your half-conscious haze as you slumped down to the ground with a labored wheeze.

A sickening crunch, followed by a strangled yell as Joel had one of the men in a headlock. Their body dropped to the ground like a bag of bricks. Eyes forever unmoving. The man that you headbutted was desperately trying to crawl away as Joel staggered after him. He bent down, grasping the hilt of your knife in his calloused palm.

His pupils were dark like a never ending black pit as he sent his steel-toed boot colliding into his gut over and over again. The man’s wails died in his throat as Joel flipped him over onto his back and slit his throat with one fatal swipe. Blood spurted from the entry wound and speckled Joel’s skin in a spray of crimson.

The third man almost got away, but Joel fired a bullet right into his spine without a second thought.

He focused his attention on you as he crouched down, knife still in his grasp, dripping with blood onto the pavement. His freehand grasped your face gently as he assessed your injuries. His good ear detected the sound of tires crunching under gravel; FEDRA.

“Angel, we need to go. We need to move. NOW.” He spoke urgently as he tucked your knife away before placing that hand along your shoulder. “FEDRA is gonna be here any minute, and I don’t know about you, but my ass is NOT bein’ thrown in lockup!”

When you didn’t immediately respond to his dire request, he took matters into his own hands, literally. You felt his strong arms lift you from the ground as if you weighed nothing. He left the crime scene in a flash. He was speaking to you, but you couldn’t detect his words as his mouth was moving too fast.

The last thing you remembered seeing was his dark, espresso brown eyes, and his blood spattered skin.

“Need’ya to open your eyes for me, sweetheart. C’mon. Guy knocked ya pretty good, but you’ll live.” Joel murmured close to your face as you were coming to.

What the fuck.

Your lashes fluttered for a moment and then snapped open. Despite the ache in your face from being punched, and the pounding in your skull, you immediately shot your hands upwards and shoved harshly at his broad chest.

“Joel?! What the actual fuck–”

“Ah, there she is. The sleepin’ beauty awakes, finally!” He’s grinning like a cheshire cat as he moves off the couch to give you space to breathe.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here, Joel?”

“Wow.” He tuts under his breath dissaprovingly. “Can’t even get a thank you for savin’ your fuckin’ life?”

“I had the situation handled on my own. What the hell were you doin’ out past curfew anyway?” You sat up a little too fast as blood rushed to your head.

His strong hands were gently easing you back down to a lying position before he was backing off again.

“Easy now, Angel. I wouldn’t sit up a’that fast if I were you.” He warned you sternly.

“Well, good thing you aren’t me, huh?” You snapped back as you swung your legs over the side of the couch.

This time he was more forceful in his actions as his hands pressed down on your shoulders firmly. “I said, stay put. God, can’t you jus’ fuckin’ listen to me when I tell ya to take it easy? You’re gonna bust your nose back open, and the stitches on the back of your head. Just chill the fuck out.” You could taste his hot breath on his tongue and feel his pulse quicken. The bulging veins in his neck protruded through the thin skin.

You swallowed harshly as your gaze wavered along the remnants of blood on his skin. Why didn’t he bother to wash it off? You couldn't help but wonder.

“I didn’t fuckin’ need your help, Joel. And you still haven’t answered my previous question either.”

He rolled his eyes before he lifted his hands from your shoulders and stalked away into the kitchen. You heard him grumbling under his breath as he slammed open a cabinet door that was already hanging by the hinges on its last legs.

“Oh, I see. So you’re just gonna ignore me now? Y’know, its fuckin’ rude to not answer someone when they ask you a question, Joel.” You muttered mostly to yourself, but you secretly had hoped that he heard you too.

Two semi-cleaned glasses were yanked from the sink and lifted from their rims as Joel swiped up a bottle of whiskey before stalking back over to the couch. He slammed the glasses down on the faded coffee table before popping the cap off with his teeth.

You were infuriating. Disrespectful. And he wanted nothing more than to put you right back into your fucking place. He however, refrained from doing so and instead poured a large splash of amber liquor into both glasses.

“Y’know, Angel. One day that mouth of yours is gonna send ya six feet under.” He stated firmly as he picked up his glass, swirled the liquor around before throwing it down his throat in one gulp.

Your eyes narrowed into slits as you glared at him from the couch. You reached for your own glass as you slowly sat up. He was pouring himself another when you downed the liquor without a fuss.

“I am well aware of that, Joel.” You deadpanned and he poured you another.

“Good, that’s real good, Angel. S’then it should come as no surprise to you that I think you’re a fuckin’ disrespectful brat.” He rasped low and deep as his words rumbled like an oncoming storm.

The tension in the room was palpable as you stared one another down. Two predators with sharpened claws ready to strike.

______

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #dark!joel miller #post outbreak joel #joel last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller series #joel miller story

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eldritch-spouse · 4 months

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You swear you saw a glint of sadness in his expression. It might be presumptuous to ask but you feel the need to. Turning away from foraging for food, you look up at the god “Protector Saudramar, how has your day been going? You seem… lost in thought.”

He had been staring off for a while now, beyond the sea gently swaying before him, beyond his powers, dominions and virtues soaring dutifully through the skies. Saudramar looked past the clouds and saw the edges of Eden as the annex gently orbited Earth.

There's no words to describe the utter impotence he feels.

To be the pinnacle of perfection as a Protector yet desire so much more, know that he's capable of so much more but completely powerless to take his place amongst the great Fathers and Mothers. Born to see others fit into place like puzzle pieces while he's doomed to push against the walls of his cage.

Nothing he does can fill the void that's been growing in the siadar's very core. Every single day, boiling rage and vicious envy turn him into an increasingly sour shell of his former self. The pain of his own existence grows heavier on his weary shoulders and he retreats into his own mind to avoid putting those who have been entrusted to him at risk.

Most of these sentiments are unleashed in the great battles against Perdition and the Betrayer's growing forces. He has looked the first fiends in the face as he slayed their kin effortlessly, never a hint of fear to be found in his brilliant ocean eyes, just monumental hatred projected onto the abominations created by a rebel.

It was different, this time.

As he held one of those slithering, disgusting, deformed parodies of celestials- It had stared at him. In a way none had before.

It saw him. It saw the real him.

And the way that foul creature laughed in Saudramar's face made him pause.

You and Them are not so different.

It had rasped, bloodied and broken.

You live in the shadows of those that are inferior to you, as did They once.

Look at us now.

Saudramar couldn't kill it. He couldn't even process what was said to him in that moment. He launched the demonic lifeform into the bowels of its own degenerate annex and moved on. But those words, hissed through chipped teeth and a slithering tongue, held only truth, engraved themselves in his soul.

And the realization alone leaves a taste in the Protector's mouth he hasn't been able to wash off.

The Betrayer is a reflection of him.

The very things he's mercilessly slaughtering with others of his cast are no more than unauthorized creations, in an unauthorized annex, designed by a siadar who was also unhappy with their role in the universe.

Except, that one was strong enough to achieve a modicum of their vision, if only just for a glimpse in time. A window of self-fulfilment worth more than an entire existence of conformity.

What is he doing?

...

The sound of your soft voice has Saudramar snapping his gaze towards you, hardened stare gradually receding.

" Lesser. "

He has a complicated view of humanity. As much as he is unbelievably fond of your design, he's also of the opinion that this project was much too ambitious. The fruits of aimless impulse from Creators who, to him, have neither a plan nor a solution for the trouble your kind will eventually brew.

Alas, you are his favorite so far. Saudramar has witnessed many lessers be born and succumb to age, and not one was as captivating as you. He can't place what it is about you yet that's so appealing, but the Protector knows he'd like to keep you closer, the same way some other casts get to perform binding ceremonies with their favored.

You are his chosen.

But Saudramar won't burden you with that.

The god shakes his head.

" Fret not. Do you require my assistance? "

You smile, relieved. " No, my Lord. " There's a pause, you can clearly tell he's upset, and the siadar chides himself for displaying weakness like that to one of his entrusted.

" Was today's battle exhausting? "

He observes you forage idly.

" Never. Every day Perdition suffers the righteousness it deserves, and I am only fueled by its destruction. "

Saudramar squats when you look into his eyes. A pallid, beautiful hand reaches out, brushing over yours. One set of eyes studies the contrast, another keeps your attention on him.

" Not once shall the filth of the impure taint your sight. The land you step upon is under my protection, and harm will fall upon those who conceive of desecrating it. "

You hold onto his hand with both of yours, and Saudramar feels his chest blossom with a sensation that chases away the thunder in his soul for the briefest of moments.

" Can we cook for you tonight, Protector? " You offer, and Saudramar is thankful no one else is around to see the way he bleeds adoration through his stare.

" Of course, my lesser. "

He will have to hide you away from the seraphim this upcoming Spring, the though of you paired to another lesser is displeasing at best. None of the males here are of enough quality to impregnate you. You are exemplary, a perfect specimen.

Saudramar will protect you.

That's one thing he'll always be able to do, no matter what the future may bring.

" Now, finish. Night will fall soon. "

#Krulu oc #tce rp ask

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glitteringaglarond · 1 year

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'Do you think those halls are fair, where your King dwells under the hill in Mirkwood, and Dwarves helped in their making long ago? They are but hovels compared with the caverns I have seen here: immeasurable halls, filled with an everlasting music of water that tinkles into pools, as fair as Kheled-zâram in the starlight.

'And, Legolas, when the torches are kindled and men walk on the sandy floors under the echoing domes, ah! then, Legolas, gems and crystals and veins of precious ore glint in the polished walls; and the light glows through folded marbles, shell-like, translucent as the living hands of Queen Galadriel. There are columns of white and saffron and dawn-rose, Legolas, fluted and twisted into dreamlike forms; they spring up from many-coloured floors to meet the glistening pendants of the roof: wings, ropes, curtains fine as frozen clouds; spears, banners, pinnacles of suspended palaces! Still lakes mirror them: a glimmering world looks up from dark pools covered with clear glass; cities, such as the mind of Durin could scarce have imagined in his sleep, stretch on through avenues and pillared courts, on into the dark recesses where no light can come. And plink! a silver drop falls, and the round wrinkles in the glass make all the towers bend and waver like weeds and corals in a grotto of the sea. Then evening comes: they fade and twinkle out; the torches pass on into another chamber and another dream. There is chamber after chamber, Legolas; hall opening out of hall, dome after dome, stair beyond stair; and still the winding paths lead on into the mountains' heart. Caves! The Caverns of Helm's Deep! Happy was the chance that drove me there! It makes me weep to leave them.

'No, you do not understand,' said Gimli. 'No dwarf could be unmoved by such loveliness. None of Durin's race would mine those caves for stones or ore, not if diamonds and gold could be got there. Do you cut down groves of blossoming trees in the springtime for firewood? We would tend these glades of flowering stone, not quarry them. With cautious skill, tap by tap – a small chip of rock and no more, perhaps, in a whole anxious day – so we could work, and as the years went by, we should open up new ways, and display far chambers that are still dark, glimpsed only as a void beyond fissures in the rock. And lights, Legolas! We should make lights, such lamps as once shone in Khazad-dûm; and when we wished we would drive away the night that has lain there since the hills were made; and when we desired rest, we would let the night return.'

And this. This right here is why Gimli has been one of my favorite characters ever since I was a child. There is a reason my tumblr url is glitteringaglarond, and it’s this passage right here.

Gimli has proved himself to be many things throughout this story - he’s a badass, he is witty and intelligent, he has a brilliant sense of humor and is the funniest character in these books - but one of the most important things about him is his love for beauty.

We saw it in his longing to see Moria, regardless of the dangers. We saw it as he couldn’t help but turn aside and gaze into the waters of Kheled-zaram. We saw it as he praised the beauty of Galadriel. Gimli is a character with a deep, artistic, soulful love for beauty. And it comes across most strikingly here, in this passage.

Because Gimli is out of his element right now, traveling through this strange, dangerous, magical wood. He is injured and weary from battle, and is once again riding a horse - something that he explicitly dislikes. This is the absolute last situation where somebody should be unveiling their poetic soul, and yet that’s what Gimli does.

Because to Gimli love for beauty is stronger than weariness and fear and uncertainty. And while being in this forest makes him fearful, only being forced to leave a thing of beauty can make him weep.

So he tells Legolas about the caves, using language so poetic that we can’t help but see the caves through his eyes and appreciate their beauty in ways we might never have done otherwise. And even Legolas is moved.

I cannot overstate how important his love for beauty is to me, and unlike Gimli I am not enough of a wordsmith to communicate exactly how deeply the beauty of his soul, expressed through this love, touches me. The best I can do is express my joy at having been taught appreciation for beauty at such a young age by such a teacher, and I can only hope that like Gimli, I too can help others find an appreciation for the beauty around them that they might not otherwise have seen.

#lotr newsletter #Gimli #my op #I have said it before and I will say it again… the fact that I consider myself an artist has its deepest roots in Gimli son of Gloin #he is so important to me #and to those who are curious... this is thee thing that solidified gimli as one of my top 5 faves #pinned

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callsigncherub · 1 year

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His and Mine are the same - Prologue.

Summary: "Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be;" - Emily Bronte.

Isabella Munro never believed she was capable of being loved. When she meets Bradley Bradshaw, an all consuming love teaches them both lessons about themselves they never knew they needed, until just the right moment.

This is my first ever series! Its a heavy one, a lot of angst! But there will be lots of fluff and smut in between. I hope everyone enjoys.

Bradley Bradshaw x OC! Isabella Munro

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1364 words

Growing up, most young girls are told stories of fairies and mythical creatures, princesses being saved by their prince in a land where there’s little evil. Stories with a happy ending. Most young girls dream about falling in love and living in the perfect world with their perfect prince, full of love and contentment.

Protected from the vile, graphic, and downright soul shattering dangers of life, they hear these stories every night before bed, looking up at their mothers, with innocent eyes and they listen intently, engrossed by the idea of falling in love.

Most girls go on to live these stories in the real world, but they don’t always go to plan. Shielded by their mothers from experiencing the trials and tribulations of these tales, and most girls go on to find their new equilibrium. They meet their person; they experience true love in all its glory and then they tell their daughters the same stories their mothers told them. But for some young girls, this isn’t the case.

For some young girls, the experiences they encounter growing up are far more chilling than those same stories they heard when they were younger. Some girls grow up with their innocence stripped away far too soon. Some girls aren’t protected from the dangers of life. For some girls they live their lives in constant disruption. The love that they so desperately crave never comes. Instead, the horrors of humanity continue to rear their ugly heads as soon as even a small glimpse of hope for a happy future enters their life. They don’t get books filled with the purest of souls, instead they get empty pages with broken promises and a void too big to fill. The idea seems too bittersweet.

Over time it takes its toll, it becomes impossible to see the good in anything, in anyone. You love too hard, care to much and never have those feelings reciprocated. Somewhere between being that happy young girl the lines blur into a state of melancholy, the constant ache, the fear of realising loneliness is forever. Trapped by your roots, a lone weed in a field of wildflowers, the yearn to bloom.

That’s where the grief usually comes in. Slowly to begin with, like a parasite, eating away the memories of a happy childhood, the memories of being that little girl filled with hope, a bright future ahead of her, and then the dam finally breaks. All at once, an overbearing sadness, grieving the beautiful little personality once harboured by a young girl with the biggest hopes and dreams. A young girl with a toothy grin, that loved to play and sing and dance, who would swing as high as she could on the swings because that’s the closest, she could get to flying. But that same little one grew up too soon, and like many others, learnt in the hardest ways that growing up too fast, means knowing who you are before your body knows who you are. Memories of a happy childhood chipped away with age, and a heart broken by the one man who should’ve loved her before any other.

Her father.

And she feels it, the pure hatred for a man who couldn’t openly love his child. The man who makes her question whether or not he even has any love to show for all the years he’s ever walked this earth and all the years she’s been his daughter. The man who never understood the significance of cherishing the time spent with his daughter, making her feel valued and loved, calling her beautiful because she looks just like her mother, holding her in the dead of night when she wakes up from a night terror, even just holding her for one moment. One. Moment. Because even showing her the slightest bit of appreciation, the slightest bit of love in that single second could protect her from a lifetime of damnation, for seeking that solicitude in the arms of men who could never live up to even half of the man her father could’ve been.

It was never her fault. But she couldn’t stop blaming herself for hating him as much as she did, because there was no excuse in the world that meant that it was okay for him to treat her that way, to hurt her repeatedly in ways most fathers would never, ever think of doing.

So, she often finds herself lying awake in bed at night wishing she could visit herself as a little girl. She would take her by the hand and pull her to the grass to make daisy chains, she’d count the gaps between her teeth and savour the way her laughter fills her ears, she’d try to swing just as high on the swing and sit opposite her at the picnic bench. But most importantly, she would warn her about what’s to come, prepare her for the heartache she’s going to go through in life. She’d ache to show that little version of herself a picture of her father and urge her to run from away from her future, as far as her little legs would take her, and then run a little more.

But something always stops her. And that something is that somewhere out there in her future, through all the pain and suffering, someone was waiting for her. Someone just as broken, but had all the love the earth could hold, to give just to her.

They had no idea they existed together, they were complete strangers to one another, crossing paths anonymously, in the most unexpected of ways until eventually, they were in the right place at exactly the right time. They were each other’s firsts. Not in any sense of first love, first kiss, first time. Not at all. But they were each other’s firsts to love the other unconditionally. To prove that they were never too much, to prove that they were not in fact a burden on one another. But that the love they had to give, the type of love that was so beautiful it consumed them, the love that showed that whatever their souls were embodied with, theirs were intertwined. That love was more than enough. They were meant to be. Maybe not forever, but they needed to experience this love, that usually only comes once in a lifetime – there to show you the true beauty of living life, to motivate you to find your soul within yourself and stand up to you when you need it. It’s a challenging type of love, there’s the darkest of days, the wind and the rain and the thunder. But these two souls are also connected like the sun and the moon, always in the midst of different phases but brought together by that unknown gravitational pull. There will never be any connection stronger. – C.B

“Isabella Munro, there will never be anyone else that I’ll ever be able to love as much as I love you, simply because I’ll never know how to. You are the first and last person I will wholeheartedly love for the rest of my life, and this love, I will hold onto until my hands are bleeding and I have nothing left to give. I know deep down that you’re the one I will continue to fall for everyday until I take my last breath and not because I want you, or need you, but because you have given a part of yourself to me that I never imagined I’d have. You’ve given me a love so unconditional I’m not sure I’m even worthy of it. But trust me when I say that I am completely in love with every inch of you, every part of your soul that you’ve given to me, and I will always be here I promise you that. Come back to me sweetheart. Please” The voicemail echoed through Isabella’s mind, and she felt a single hot tear rolling down her cheek, burning a path a long her pale face.

“Bradley, I’m so sorry. I love you, so much”. She panted, before her eyes closed and all she could hear was the high-pitched ringing in her ears.

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First part of the series is up!

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therichantsim · 1 year

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So for the last 8 weeks, I’ve been walking daily, grilling or baking my food, and eating a shitload of veggies. This weekend I had a craving that just wouldn’t go away. So I gave into it, but I only made enough for two servings, today and tomorrow’s dinner. That way I won’t go back for seconds. I made spicy vinegar chicken, savory buttery succotash, and rice. I also made a strawberry lemonade (from scratch). Y’all, I love to cook it’s how I love on my people. I literally do a happy dance when I eat and if you are happily eating my food it warms my heart. If you visit and you’re hungry I will feed you and send you off with a to-go plate. I love hospitality and being hospitable. You get a well-made bed with good bedding, tucked tight and right. You get breakfast, all of the things.

Therapy and addiction mention below the cut.

When I say loving and appreciating good food and good ingredients all while being addicted to it ain’t easy! Ya girl wakes up thinking about dinner and goes to sleep thinking about breakfast. My therapist says food has replaced work (at the salon) which gave me a sense of purpose. Being behind the chair was workplace ministry for lack of a better word. My kids are grown and doing their own thing and I’ve also suffered some loss. My doctor was stunned by the amount of weight I put on within the last three years. I've even felt a drastic decline in my health within the last three years. My heart cusses me own on the regular. Saying "bitch I am not supposed to be working this damn hard" So I've been trying to do better and within a week I felt the difference and now I'm going on week 8. I'm supposed to be finding another outlet to feed my soul instead of constantly reaching for food. Humans are animals and like other animals, we should only eat when our body needs nourishment but food taste so damn good. It also releases endorphins and shit.

So my new methodology has been to only eat what you've cooked from scratch. If I want fries then I must peel and cut up potatoes and cook them. If I want chips I must do the same. If I want cookies they have to be from scratch. Needless to say that more often than not this method makes me reach for a piece of fruit or a small healthy snack instead. Because I can be bothered.

Still looking for that outlet that fills the void though. I volunteer at my local shelter a few times a month. My shade tree mechanic passed away recently and my car which lasted me for the last 20 years just died as well. Oh and did I mention it's been 9 years since my last kiss or anything else for that matter.

Saying all this to say ya girl needs to get a life or a new purpose in life because as much as I love this game it ain't it and it ain't real life. Food can no longer be my boyfriend. It can delicious and nourishing but boyfriend it can not be.

If you have read this far. Thank you and I love you. Bye xoxo Antwanyce

#shitposting #random musings #rants #nonsims #probably tmi #Whew that felt good to get off my chest #I see why yall like letting it out on here

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ginnsbaker · 14 days

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That was Scenes from a Marriage (2021) level of angst, J. Can’t count the number of gasps I let out!

I have a lot of thoughts, i hope you don’t mind 😭

> Modern Idiots was a nice touch. 10/10 no notes. TS is MADE for fics.

> I absolutely love that Sara has become a recurring character! You write her so well, her confidence and appeal can be felt so vividly. It’s amazing how you were able to create an OC that is such a scene stealer (still picturing her as Rebecca btw)

> Chrysanthemums!!! I love how it’s like almost like an easter egg by now

> “Always just shy of what they hoped” “It’s more of an outline than a shape”

How beautifully put. being the eldest daughter in an asian household i have experienced that firsthand. You’ve captured that feeling so profoundly

> “I want to stop assuming things and thinking my perspective is the whole reality. We all do it, don’t we? Set traps for ourselves with our own expectations and assumptions.”

What a great thing to read at the end of a long, and taxing day.

> The confrontation scene was SUPERB. You have written an incredibly accurate scene of how painful and terrifying it is to stand across a person you love and to see this mask of coldness and indifference.

The courage it takes to stand there and try to chip at the walls, and to love a person who can switch off their emotions when it’s getting difficult.

Kudos to Leigh for trying, when it was easier to dismiss everything. And kudos to the reader for standing our ground.

“A lesser woman would have lost hope”

P.S.

I can’t say I understand nor condone Matt’s cheating. But i want to share how the conversation scene with Jules felt to me.

That for a brief moment there was hope, that despite the family’s feeling of grief and betrayal, and possibly conflicting feelings about us (given that we were a part of the disloyalty) there was a fleeting moment that we filled in the void of kindness that Matt left. That maybe, the memory of Matt isn’t all tarnished and somehow redeemed if his mistake brought another version of him, another sympathetic soul to their lives.

Thank you, J! This is an extraordinary work, and this chapter is just magnificent

Hi Oceane!!! So nice to hear from you :3

First of all, this is the first time I've heard of Scenes from a Marriage (2021), and I'm shocked that I don't know this movie existed because it has Jessica Chastain in it?? I need to see this asap!

re: modern idiots - I couldn't help myself because 40% of my inspiration always comes from TS' music. I physically cannot hold back from writing them into the fic lol

re: Sara - though nothing will ever be between y/n and Sara, i've grown to love her myself. But I wanted to portray an atypical relationship development between people who meet through dating apps. and of course, i wanted her there to remind Leigh that if she ever lets y/n go, y/n won't be left empty-handed ;)

re: mums - yes, the same flowers from ILGOSS :)

re: eldest daughter??? in an asian household??? are you like a mirror image of my life? lol. though i'm an only child. but i understand the pressure put on eldest asian daughters.

re: confrontation scene - i don't think i'd be able to write that if i haven't experienced that myself, tbh. it's painful and a risk, but someone needs to be brave or else it will fall apart.

re: final words on matt - I agree. I don't think one mistake makes a person. Matt was still kind, he did his best to love Leigh and in the end, it's himself he couldn't live with, and that was the tragedy.

Thank YOU for your wonderful introspection on the chapter. It's such an insightful read. I know I'll go back to your asks every now and then, and especially when I'm experiencing writer's block.

#if i bleed asks #nomdeplumeoceane

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jenamonoxide · 1 year

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My brother's best friend.

The trust was a different level. Not a second thought crossed my mind when letting him in. He was older, wiser, handsome, everything that would never truly end up with someone like me. He towered over me and made me feel worthy. I couldn't wrap my head around why this 34 year old man, who has his life together and stable, would want anything to do with 27 year old me. I'm not done with college. I'm as financially independent as possible with a daughter who keeps me on my toes and constantly on edge. He convinced me that he saw me; behind all of the defenses and rough edges. I gave him all of me...mistake #1.

This was a secret love affair. No one knew. It was filled with excitement, giggles and secret meet ups. Like the movies. But that's all it would be. A movie. A fantasy. But, no happy ending. As soon as I allowed myself to trust him and jump all in...he stepped back and watched me fall. My self-esteem chipped away more and more each day. I started to drown, but I couldn't ask for help or else I'd blow our cover. The one person who should've saved me wouldn't even throw out a life preserver to help me stay afloat. Did he really see who I was? Or did he just see the potential I had to become weak for him? I fell in love with him anyway...mistake #2.

6 months. It took 6 months for my self esteem to completely deteriorate. I spent days wondering what I was doing wrong. I wasn't enough. He drained me. My depression came back. My anxiety had me biting my nails down to the quick. I swallowed my pride. I cried myself to sleep; and not just a few tears. It was the gut wrenching cries that knock the breath out of you because you just want the pain to stop. He built a trauma bond by taking jabs at me that left stings in my self esteem, only for him to pacify me and write it off as a joke. He held my head underwater and gaslit me anytime I finally spoke up from my lungs burning. I never understood his jokes, nor did I ever feel the need to calm down. My feelings were valid. I never laughed. I never calmed down, especially internally. I just kept loving him, and I continued to be a pathological people pleaser. I still continued to accept less than what I deserved...mistake #3.

Now that the rug has been pulled out from under me, the truth did not set me free. I was thrown under the bus and the blame was put on me. It took two to fuck. It took his words and broken promises to make me swoon and fall in love with him. Lastly, It took his actions to break me completely. Everyone wants to move along and forget it happened, but how am I supposed to do that when I am the one who fell in love? There's no moving on in the matter of days. I still have to pick myself up and put the pieces back together. Why isn't he held accountable for how reckless he was with my soul and heart? They were dark grey when he came in, and now they're a black bottomless pit.

Never again.

I will never allow someone to see all the cracks and crevices that define me. They never appreciate who I am as a person. They see my defenses and strength as a challenge. A game. I'm seen as nothing but an ego boost and a temporary use to fill a void. No more. I am done. I'll never be soft again. There is no fight left in me in all aspects. I will allow myself to die in battle before someone takes me away from myself ever again.

#hurt #blog #blogging #spilled words #spilled feelings #experiences #relatable af #lost love #heartache #heartbreak #moving on

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abhainnwhump · 7 months

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IMYM Chapter 5: Last Minute Preparations: Nightmare

<- Previous Chapter || Masterlist || Next Chapter ->

Nightmare adjusted his shirt collar in the master bathroom's mirror. He wore a gray dress shirt with bishop sleeves, a black suit jacket on his shoulders, and a black cravat. He usually only dressed up this much for business meetings or the few times he’s been to masquerade balls. A date couldn’t have been that different.

Yes, he was five hundred and seven years old and had never been on a date. He’s never had a reason to. Romance was never a focus in his life, not now and likely not ever. He was more focused on taking over the multiverse and spreading negativity. Killer was relentless with the jokes when he found out. Nightmare was inches away from wrapping him in his tendrils and throwing him out the window.

As he was about to grab his pocket watch, he touched a woven bookmark. It was made of dark black fabric with a white X near the top. The string’s knot and two beads kept it from falling, one teal and one purple. A birthday gift from Cross. Along with his childhood crown, Nightmare didn’t know why he kept the damn thing. Nostagila most likely, even if he didn't want to admit it.

If there was one person he hated worse than Dream, it was Cross. He betrayed him not once, but twice. The first was treason, and the second was falling for the enemy. In a way, he did them both on the same day, three years ago.

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Nightmare took the guard in after he murdered his entire AU. He only found out due to Cross venting to him about it. It was an accident, he didn't mean to kill everyone he loved, people betrayed him over and over. He became stuck in the Anti-void, helpless and afraid of losing himself further. He was a fascinating soul, filled with regret and hatred. Cross needed to find a new purpose and Nightmare fancied a new team member. So he offered him a deal. If Cross joined his team, Nightmare would allow him meaning and help with his trauma.

And he was a good member. Resourceful, charismatic, a hard worker, and close friends with the rest of the team. Nightmare enjoyed having him as a subordinate.

But one day, without clear reason, he couldn’t take the killing anymore. He told Nightmare he wanted to quit. He told him he was sorry and grateful for everything he’s done, but he wanted to leave. Nightmare said no. A deal was a deal. They argued for an hour before Cross backed down. He didn’t say anything for a while after that. Less shine in his eye lights, but otherwise he worked as usual. He did become concerned for his mental health though. Was he too harsh? Cross had a habit of hiding both his physical and mental injuries. Especially if someone asked him if he was okay.

The next time they went on a mission, Cross ran away with nothing but an apology note—a weak one at that.

Nightmare canceled the mission and sent the entire team to find the traitor. He couldn't have gone far. They were reluctant but did as their boss asked. As he searched through the minor AU. He caught a strange conversation in the wind.

“Please, I want to help you! I know you’re not evil, and I’m not leaving you to die with a broken leg!”

“Stay away from me! And whatever you’re doing to make me happy, stop it! Happiness is the last thing I want to feel right now.”

“I can’t! It’s my aura! I can’t control it! You feel happy because you’re close to me! I'll leave you alone, but please let me heal your leg.”

The dark king followed the sound until he reached a clearing. Dream kneeled in front of a scuffling Cross, hand hovering with gold magic over his wound. Dream appeared to glow in the dark forest. It was back when he wore teal instead of yellow and a full cape instead of ripped shreds. Cross wore his over-complicated outfit too. A white jacket over a turtleneck and an X-sash. Cross’s right leg was a disaster of chipped bone, purple blood, and torn fabric.

Cross waited until Dream finished to adjust his leg. He seemed shocked over how well it worked. "Thanks, now leave me alone."

Dream’s sighed. “I- okay. Even if you don’t trust me, I want you to have this.”

The guardian reached to his belt and pulled out a gray orb, no larger than a golf ball. It had a small gold star in the center.

Cross scoffed and took the ball. “What is this? Some kind of miniature bomb? Nice try, but it won’t work on me.” He threw it into the forest. Dream gasped and reached out for it, but it was too late.

The orb broke into pieces and blasted a wave of wind and positivity. Nightmare cringed in pain and stifled a scream. It felt like he was burning inside out. The two other skeletons shielded their eye lights from the bright light.

When Nightmare lowered his hand, his eye socket widened. From the orb spouted beams of gold light and a hundred stars. Each star held a positive memory of Cross’s. Nightmare had never seen nor met any of them, but he could tell they were the other monsters from his world. Xtale Papyrus, Undyne, Mettaton, Muffet, he had a sickly sweet love and care for his friends and brother. Yet despite the happiness, sorrow and guilt tainted the memories.

Dream took one of the stars and held it in his hands. He waved his hand over it and smiled, his eye lights turning into stars. “I knew it! You have so many hopes and dreams and happy memories. You loved your friends. You used to be so positive, what ha- Cross?”

Cross failed to hold back his tears. His smile shook as much as his breathing; he struggled to keep quiet to stay strong. He wiped his tears away with one of his dirty sleeves. One of the stars floated by his face and he swatted it away. Then a second, and then a third. He crossed his arms and scowled. His aura was consumed in the guilt and sorrow he repressed for years. "Get rid of them."

“I can't, they will only leave on their own. It takes time. All healing and good things take time.” Dream moved closer, now curious. “Is that the problem? You're scared of what they'll think of you, so you're running away from your past?"

"I'm not running away from it. I tried to save them. I . . . forget it." He closed himself off. "It was a stupid idea in the first place. I should've known I couldn't rip apart other worlds and still expect everything to be normal."

Cross didn’t elaborate and continued to retreat into himself. Dream rubbed the back of his head, opening his mouth and closing it again. He did the one thing he knew to do best. He held him in a protective hug, rubbing his skull and letting him cry on his shoulder. “Shh, it’s okay. You deserve to be happy. If you want . . . I could help you to be happy again. But only if you want me to!"

Nightmare couldn’t hear his response as Cross muttered it, but his aura gained a twinge of comfort. And that’s when the Lord of Negativity decided to make his presence known.

“Well, well, well, I hate to ruin your little bonding moment, but your positivity is sickening.” Nightmare shot a tendril at Dream and tied him up. His brother gasped and struggled. The negativity was too much for him. He lay limp in his tendrils, breathing ragged.

Nightmare turned to Cross, smiling like a proud father. “Cross, you realize that by distracting my brother, you have earned yourself back in my favor. And because of that, I will let you do the honor of killing him.” He lowered Dream and held him spread-eagle style. “Go on, cut into his chest, and take out his soul.”

Cross looked hesitant. Nightmare decided he had to sweeten the deal. He raised his brother in the air behind him. Dream was running out of air. “You will become my first lieutenant and leader of the new army. You will have power you could only dream of.” He laughed at his unintentional pun. “I also won’t punish you for treason as I planned. Do you know how many monsters would take that deal? Many. You’re lucky you-”

A knife blade came down on the base of Dream’s tendril. Nightmare howled in agony. Losing a tendril was worse than a little positivity. He could regrow it within time, but his tendrils contained most of his magic. It would stay weakened until it regrows. But he still had three others.

Dream screamed as he fell. Cross teleported and caught him in midair. He shielded the smaller one with his body as they rolled on the ground. Purple covered his brother's face as he couldn't breathe. His skull lolled back on Cross's shoulder, blinking to refocus.

Nightmare’s eye twitched. “Are you betraying me for him?”

Cross didn’t answer.

Nightmare scowled. “Idiot, don't you see? Dream is messing with your head. He’s making you weak by tricking you into a false sense of empathy. And that’s why I must annihilate him, so no one can feel these emotions again. You still need me. I’m giving you a purpose. Would you rather be alone? Suffering in the guilt you caused yourself?"

Cross stood back up with a firm grip on his magic, claymore-sized knife. “You misunderstand me. I was created to protect people. And Dream . . . people like him are worth protecting. I made a mistake by working for you. I won’t make it again-”

Nightmare stabbed Cross through the chest and arms, yawning.

His tendrils splattered with purple blood as he slow-clapped. “That was beautifully . . . stupid, you should’ve considered being a poet. But I am very disappointed. You had so much potential, only to throw it away for the ‘greater good’. Oh well.” Nightmare thickened his tendrils to snap Cross’s bones. His clothing strained and began to tear. Cross screamed in pain. Snaps broke out. It would’ve gone faster if he had the fourth tendril, but this would do.

“Brother, stop!” Dream stood back up, bow in hand. “L-leave him alone! It’s me you want!”

Nightmare cackled. This was almost too perfect. “Let’s see, should I kill a traitor? Or kill my brother? Oh, decisions, decisions . . .”

He didn’t hear the Gaster Blaster behind him. Cross summoned it with the last of his magic strength. Nightmare barely had time to turn into a puddle, having to drop him in the process. Cross fell with a groan.

He turned to Dream and wiped some of the blood off his face. “Look, sunshine, just get out of here. Leave me, I’ll be fine. I can fight-”

“NO! You have a chance for a happy life! I’m giving you a second chance and there is nothing you can say or do about it!” Dream fixed his sun cape and steadied his breathing. He held up his bow.

Nightmare’s body distorted. He thinned his tendrils out into whips and fired them at Dream and Cross. Dream threw up a shield and defended them. The tendrils stabbed and bounced off the barrier, clanking like hail on a window.

Cross eyed the cracking and breakage. “I got a plan. We need to take cover behind that boulder and then-”

“Oh, Crossy!”

Killer shot a knife from the woods. Cross used his weak state and weight to tackle Dream to the ground. The knife tore off Cross’s already-ruined jacket sleeve.

Cross scowled and grumbled, “Oh, fuck me.”

“If you insist,” Killer taunted. He charged at the two. Dream summoned a wave of positivity and fired it at him. Nightmare’s right hand dashed and teleported, reappearing beside Dream. He slashed a long line down his skull. Dream winced, but focused on keeping Cross out of danger, even with his blood dripping into his eye socket.

“Come on, we need to get out of here,” Cross commanded. “I’ll lend you some happiness for your powers or whatever, but we can’t stay here!”

Dream gave a curt nod before twirling his staff into a portal. “Let’s heal you- um, do you prefer to go by Cross or San-”

“Cross. Never call me Sans.”

Dream tucked his staff into his belt holster. He struggled to carry Cross’s weight. Nightmare’s tendrils flew on their own and tore up Dream’s cape—his most treasured possession. The scraps of fabric fell at his feet.

Dream slowed down looked down, holding the ruined ends. “No! My-my cape!”

“Leave it! We don’t have time!” Cross grabbed the guardian’s arm, wincing at his own injuries. Dream snapped back to his senses. Still crying like a baby, he supported Cross and helped him through the portal. They both fell on the other side and sealed it.

Killer teleported to Nightmare’s side as he reformed properly. “Boss, should I go after them? Give me three hours and I will bring back their skulls.”

Nightmare watched the portal close. “A tempting offer, but no. We’re returning to the castle and reporting the news to the others. From there, I will decide what to do next. Cross is no longer a member of the VSS and that should be clear. He is a target that should suffer as much as the Star Sanses if not more."

“Gotcha.”

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Nightmare banished Cross but didn’t send an immediate search mission. He expected the Star Sanses to take him as a new member. To his shock, Cross stayed neutral. But there was something else, something far worse than that. Error was the one who broke the news to him.

Cross and Dream fell in love.

Love, what a worthless feeling. Well, perhaps worthless wasn’t the right word. It could be exploited, used, and taken advantage of. Pathetic was better. Isn’t that where this idea came from? To make Ink fall in love with him so he could turn him into a living weapon?

These days, Nightmare took the sympathy he had for Cross and burned them until all there was only hate. If he surrendered there and then, Nightmare would have made his death painless. Now, he didn’t care. He wanted to see him severed and hanging.

Nightmare slammed his hands on the marble sink. His fingers clenched, but he managed to take a deep breath. As long as he didn’t think about Cross and/or Dream, he could keep his temper managed. Besides, he couldn’t intimidate Ink on the first date. What was the adage about a frog? If you drop a frog into a pot of boiling water, it will immediately jump out. Drop a frog into a pot of lukewarm water and raise the heat, it will stay until it dies.

It’s a failing metaphor because the frog jumps out no matter how hot the pot is. You would need to lobotomize it first. He snapped a pair of black silk gloves on.

Nightmare finished readying himself and left the bathroom. He had one more stop to make before he could go to the date.

He walked down his finely decorated hallways. Long purple rugs lined the stone floor. Every decoration had a place in his gothic black and purple theme. The left wall held tall windows with moon designs, shining the sunset through them. The right were old oil paintings. Nightmare had an appreciation for old art, especially those depicting misery and pain. The more suffering the better.

One might ask how he landed such exquisite decor. The answer was centuries worth of exchange and thievery. Nightmare never had a problem with stealing. His moral compass was as nonexistent as his skin.

Nightmare walked inside his office and pushed a stack of papers aside with a tendril. He lay Ink’s sash flat, removing each vial and laying them in a straight line. He touched each of the vials’ rainbow, heart-shaped tops. He could sense the emotions radiating from each color. Not as powerful as natural feelings, not even close. It was like holding artificial flavoring. It does the job, but it’s farce compared to the real thing.

Once he removed the yellow one, his smile distorted so it pointed by his eye sockets. The sturdy glass kept it from burning him, but he still felt happiness and positivity inside. Nightmare opened one of his windows and breathed in the cool night air. He looked down into the blue lake and smiled.

He threw the vial into the water below.

The vial flew, yellow against black until it crashed and sunk into the lake below. The darkness sucked it down. Ink wouldn’t be able to weaken him with happiness now. As long as he stayed here, he would be miserable. The pink paint's love would trick him into thinking he feels positive. Love wasn’t a positive or negative emotion, it was neutral as it could work both ways. Love could be selfless or selfish depending on the person. Most of the time, it was the latter.

He touched the breast pocket of his suit. He nestled the bottle of pink and red paint inside. It glowed softly. You couldn’t notice the light unless you were searching for it.

Nightmare ceased touching the vials when a lumbering sound outside caught his attention. He learned how to tell which member of the trio was who based on the sound of their footsteps. "Come in, Horror."

Horror opened the door and peered inside. His red eye was the only thing lighting up his face. Otherwise, he was backlit by the dark gold light of the hall.

Nightmare turned toward the oldest member of the Murder Time Trio. Horror was a few inches taller than he was and more muscular, but Nightmare didn’t mind.

“When Ink gets ’ere . . . can we torture him?”

Nightmare thought about it. “In time. I need to break him in first. Then you, Killer, and Dust can have a field day. I don’t care what you do to him, just keep him functional. Break a few fingers or use him as a test dummy for all I care,” he said. “Remember, he won’t be an equal to us. He’s far less, so don’t feel bad about making him hurt.”

Horror nodded. “So he’s . . . a torture toy with . . . a special excuse?”

“Mm, close enough. You’re in charge while I’m gone; I trust you the most. But if I come back to any pranks, destruction, or Ouija board incidents, you are all cleaning the dungeon. Including the blades and chains. We need to make a good impression on our new member, don't we?”

“Yes, boss.”

With a final nod, Nightmare stepped through the portal to Outertale. It was one of the AUs he was fond of, and the only one he liked that wasn’t negative-centric. The sky was forever dark and covered with stars. The residents were low energy and had little animosity towards anyone. Nightmare stayed in the shadows and out of sight as much as possible. As kind as Outertale was, he still had a reputation and a price on his head. Thank you, Dream.

Nightmare followed the roads until he made it to the restaurant. Tucked between two shops, it was fancier than either of them, looking like it belonged to a different AU. It was made with white pillars and had an old style, like the buildings in ancient mythology books he read as a child.

Nightmare pushed the doors open. The lively atmosphere almost immediately quieted down. It was like a blanket of uncertainty and fear. He couldn’t sense Ink’s artificial aura so that guaranteed he was late.

“Reservations for Nightmare Joku.” He set his hands on the counter, holding a confident cool smile. The worker seemed unnerved, but they gave him a polite smile in return. It turned strained once they looked into his glowing eye light.

“Joku . . . give me one sec.” They flipped through the massive book and scanned through a page. “Ah, found you.”

They set the book down and mumbled to themself. “Mother of the stars, why can’t I ever get the normal customers . . .” They stood up and walked, gesturing for Nightmare to follow. He did. He looked straight ahead but noticed nervous looks and whispers from the other monsters.

The attendant lead him to a spare room saved for events. Nightmare needed the privacy, not just for the view, though that was a bonus. The window showed the white Milky Way against a deep purple sky. He wanted to keep the affair between him and Ink, and them alone.

The attendant looked nervous, messing with their clipboard. “Um . . . would you like any drinks to begin with?”

Nightmare nodded. “I’ll have a pinot noir and my date will have a rosé champagne. He should be here within the next . . . five to ten minutes, roughly. If you see him, please tell him I’m waiting. Oh, and one last request, please. Could you leave me and him alone for, let’s say, twenty minutes? No, make it fifteen. That should be enough time.”

They rubbed their clipboard more, tapping the chained pen against it. The outside suddenly looked very interesting to them. “Apologies, sir. It’s policy to not leave customers alone for too long. It's considered rude.".

Nightmare nonchalantly passed the waiter one hundred gold pieces from his pocket. The waiter stared with eyes as wide as saucers. They also seemed desperate to get out of there. “Well . . . I suppose an exception can be made.”

As soon as he slipped out, Nightmare shook his head. Mortals could be convinced with the simplest bribe. They came back with the glasses of wine and water not long after. Once he left, he activated his plan.

The dark king removed the bottle of love potion from his pocket and poured half of the pink liquid into the wine. He decided it would be safe if he saved some in case the effects failed to work. He wasn’t too concerned though. The main reason he chose Ink as his target was how easily he could be manipulated. Physically, Ink was the strongest member of the Star Sanses. Mentally, he’s the weakest. If only he was as intelligent as he was arrogant.

Nightmare drank his red wine. He was incapable of getting drunk, likely due to his body lacking a solid form. The power from his black apple soul was the only thing keeping it together. Along with the fact he was using a six-year-old skeleton as a, well, skeleton.

The stars entranced and distracted him. He focused his attention on what appeared to be a flaming asteroid. Then he caught a bitter aura. Nightmare couldn’t read minds, but if he could, he could imagine the host thinking vulgar language.

The fire monster at the reception desk peeked in through the curtains. “Your Highness? Your date is here.”

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alihightowers · 1 year

Text

Disclaimer: I've only seen the show and have just started the book, so please don't come for me if this reads ooc. This was just a fun (angst-ish) idea that came to me and I felt like writing it out, so yeah. :)

God, Rest My Soul

How many times can one be torn apart before they cease to exist altogether?

Alicent was 15 when she first started to feel it.

Loss.

Honest and brutal, it would linger by her side as a shadow, a starving parasite begging to be fed.

It began with the theft of her girlhood, stripped and stolen from beneath her before she could find a stable grounding.

And it was harsh, getting thrown off balance so abruptly. She attempted to reach out for something to hold on to, anything to save her from falling.

All she could catch was air.

Alicent had never belonged to herself. She was always someone else’s.

A pawn. A wife. A mother.

Just a pretty mosaic of fragmented glass, soldered together and molded to be what the people around her desired her to be.

Forever sentenced to follow the strict line between duty and sacrifice, and driven by a strong sense of faith, she was impressed upon performing only what was expected of her. And she was taught to do so without resistance.

Chipped away piece by piece, she was always one step away from being emptied completely, existing as no more than the shell of a girl who once made secret wishes on blue skies and worn book pages, on cake and the Narrow Sea’s great wonders.

She could only cling to her fragile innocence for so long before her fingers went numb and her will began to crumble into dust.

When the war came to its gruesome end, that emptiness finally claimed her. It took time to peel away at her insides, shredding the remnants of her heart to ribbons until there was nothing left but a hollow void.

Bound to the burden of her losses, Alicent never got the chance to know what it felt like to be whole.

xxx

Alicent wakes as she does most nights, drenched in sweat with a strangled cry in her throat. Her long, auburn tresses stick to the back of her neck, her nightgown tangled around her legs. The sheets fit tight around her waist, binding her in cotton chains. She can’t move.

Then the nightmare spills into reality. They always spill with a taunting, slow drip.

Her mind plays cruel tricks on her in the dark. The walls stretch and yawn open, expanding beyond the ceiling. She shrinks as they rise and wonders if this will be the time such nothingness will swallow her whole.

Sometimes she wishes it would.

Alicent’s hands curl into fists around her pillows and she shudders when she hears it. Dragons. The roar comes with the thunder of a thousand storms, growing louder and louder until it booms right outside her open windows, close enough to shake her bed. A wing scrapes like steel blades against the front facing wall of her chamber and the room fills with the sinister orange glow of dragon fire.

And as the beast passes, she begins to hear the screams.

Muffled at first and then rising to an unbearable, piercing cacophony of guttural agony. The smallfolk, civilians who asked for none of it, but suffered from it all the same, trampling over each other in the narrow streets in a futile attempt to seek shelter.

A true queen always counts the cost to her people.

And she can do nothing but sit at the top of it all, her throne a burning pyre of broken promises and blood-soaked bone.

A wave of nausea ripples through her when she finally opens her eyes to search the darkness in a panic, lip trembling and cheeks already flushed with tears.

Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me.

She repeats the words under her breath until the terror finally relents and her pulse stops hammering in her ears.

A habit never cured, Alicent raises her thumb to her mouth to pick the already raw skin between her teeth. Scar tissue has grown over the wounds around her cuticles over the years, but she somehow always finds a way to break through. Maybe it’s a weakness, or maybe a twisted determination. Either way, It’s the only thing that calms her. If she bleeds, she’s less heavy.

She only stops once the taste of copper melts onto her tongue.

Alicent swallows, wiping her fingers on the white sheet. The moment she manages to sit up, a cough rattles in her chest almost hard enough to double her over.

With a desperate gasp for air, she presses the heels of her hands over her eyelids to ease the sudden dizziness, forcing her chest to rise and fall with deep, uneven breaths.

The air shifts around her then, a gentle disturbance that makes her pause.

“Mother.” The whisper is so faint in her ear she almost misses it, but it’s the cadence of the voice that catches her. It’s one she hasn’t heard in years but knows so deeply to the very core of her being.

A weight settles on her right shoulder and a small part of her chest stops aching. Phantom fingers gently press into her skin, and she so desperately wants to reach up and touch him. To pull herself up and hug him, hold him to her just as she had the moment after he was born.

“My darling boy.” She speaks, voice thick with sleep and tight with emotion.

Fingertips press more firmly into her shoulder when she tries to move. She stills with a sigh, her own hand twitching with the need to reach out.

“I wish to see you.”

“Not yet.”

Her brow furrows, confused. It makes no sense.

A question lingers on Alicent’s lips, but before she can ask it, her son leans closer and brushes a soft kiss to her temple. The way the corner of his mouth lifts at the edge with a small smile fills her eyes with fresh tears that stick to her eyelashes.

“Your Grace?”

Alicent startles at the sound of her septa, body jolting in response to the new voice.

Ignoring the woman, she raises her hand to her cold shoulder and turns to the side. Her head spins, her eyes blur. The space beside her bed is empty, but through the dizzy spell, she watches the facets of a sapphire sparkle in the blackened sky until it blends in with the full moon.

The familiar, dull ache pierces her womb then, needling deeper until it joins the three other wounds carved there.

Do not mourn me, mother.

“Your Grace.” Her septa tries again, her concern for Alicent evident. Her tone never changes; she’s always concerned.

Alicent no longer cares much, nor has the energy to argue her detest for pity, for being made to feel weak. The only thing that matters, the only thing she cares for, the only thing she wants, are her children.

They are her reason and her salvation. Her greatest triumphs and her biggest failures.

She loves them and they haunt her.

“Hmm?” She finally manages to answer, watching as the woman approaches her to sit on the edge of the bed.

“The guards heard you scream, are you alright?”

Alicent nods, but her bottom lip starts trembling again and her face crumples, giving way to her unrelenting sorrow.

“Oh, my dear.” Her septa says, taking care in pushing her thick hair back and away from her shoulders before bringing weathered fingers up to gingerly wipe beneath Alicent’s eyes.

The gentle touch stings. Her tender skin is chapped from the salt of her tears, permanent rivers having been burned across the apples of her cheeks over time.

“I’m so tired.” She confesses with a whimper, dropping her cheek to rest against the woman’s palm.

“Then you must rest, your grace.”

She feels the back of her septa’s soft, wrinkled hand touch her forehead.

“But all I ever do is rest...”

The heavy sigh she releases brings forth another series of coughs violent enough to ricochet off her spine.

“You’re burning, let me fetch you something to ease the fever.”

Her septa cradles one of Alicent’s hands between both of hers and squeezes them softly with a nod.

Before she gets to the door, Alicent looks to her, eyes wide and rounded with hope.

“Do you think they are safe?”

My sons. My daughter.

“Let us pray for it with the rise of the sun.”

Every day she asks the same question, and every day they pray together, but never for herself. Instead, she speaks out for her children, recites their names like sacred hymns that only she can understand.

A mother should never outlive her children.

xxx

The hours pass by slowly, and Alicent finds her exhaustion growing alongside them as the fever worsens.

She can only stand up long enough to allow her bed to be remade with clean linens. Her pillows are fluffed, an extra quilt is lying over the comforter. Her maid combs through her mussed hair, untangling the curls until they fall in uniform down her back. The girl washes the sweat from her clammy skin and dresses her in a fresh nightgown.

With the last of her strength siphoned from the simple task, it’s the last time she rises from her bed.

The sky is overcast in the afternoon. Grey and murky, she briefly wonders if it will finally rain, if the sky will collect her tears and cry them for her after she’s gone.

In the silence once she is left alone to rest, she can hear the distinct slosh of waves crashing against stone if she listens hard enough. The constant and methodic turbulence lulls her in and out of sleep, hushes her when she struggles between bouts of lucidity.

And then there’s the distinct smell of damp earth, maple leaves, and lemon.

The subtle notes filter through her senses, easing her to a soft wakefulness. Her sight focuses on the cloth on her bedside table in the dim light when she blinks her eyes open. Stretched taught over an embroidery hoop, Alicent studies the half-finished image of a spider she tried to weave from a fading memory. She remembers seeing it from time to time, delicate and intricately stitched by Helaena. There were other insects too. Beetles and dragonflies and moths. But her daughter always seemed to favor the arachnids most.

The body of her own rendition is uneven. Seven out of eight legs are disproportioned, protruding out at odd angles. A needle still sticks upright in the middle of the head where she gave up, the single black thread unraveled to the floor, spool likely lost under her bed having been forgotten some time ago.

My dearest love.

“I never could get it right.” She mumbles to the empty room, reaching out to trace one of the skewed legs.

The quiet lingers until an answer echoes off the walls.

“But you did try your best.”

The soft melody carried on Helaena’s words fills Alicent's chest with warmth. Her lips crack with a smile, the muscles weakened from lack of use. The corners of her mouth ache until she can no longer keep them upturned.

“Did I?” Her voice breaks her question in half. She should have tried harder.

A reply never comes, and a spark of panic unfurls within her veins.

“Why can I not see you?”

Alicent waits in the deafening silence, begging for something to let her know she’s not alone.

“To see you must close both eyes.” Helaena whispers, and then as quickly as she came, she’s gone.

xxx

Alicent begins shivering after that. Goosebumps cover her skin and she’s cold, but her body runs too hot in protest. She pushes her blankets down to her knees one moment, only to pull them back up around her neck the next. In a viscous cycle, she’s agitated with restlessness, but she barely has the energy to move.

Well into the night, her breath shortens, lungs unable to expand the way they used to just hours prior.

Her eyes roll unseeing up to the canopy over her bed, following the patterns in the fabric to try and focus on anything other than the ache that has since spread throughout each of her limbs.

Her septa reads passages from the bible to her, the old, warped pages crinkling from years of use. Alicent knows the words by heart, has recited them more times than she can count, but she lets them soothe her instead of joining in. It’s enough to still her mind and focus on her own silent prayer.

Alicent can feel herself slipping. Her eyes are heavy, she just wants to sleep, but she’s waiting.

She’s been waiting ever since the sickness took her, since she knew death would come swiftly.

When she finally feels a warm hand cover her own, she turns hers over quickly to grasp at the wrist, clinging.

It’s the hand she knows best by heart. Much larger than hers now that he’s a man grown, Alicent digs her fingertips into the back of it, mad with a hope that if she squeezes hard enough, she could somehow shrink it back into the soft, chubby hand still shielded from the world. One she had held so carefully while she helped him take his first steps.

Maybe if they had all been smaller, she could have protected them better.

Glossy-eyed, Alicent directs her attention away from the canopy to the face of her son.

“Aegon.” She sighs, and it’s instant, the way the tension drains from her frail body. Tears leak freely from the corners of her eyes and into her ears.

Neither smile, they simply stare at each other, mirrored as they’ve always been. Same eyes, same nose, same mouth. Her first and her last.

“Do you love me?”

You imbecile.

His voice is raw with emotion. Alicent swallows against the dryness of her throat, following the peaks and valleys of his scarred, burnt skin with her fingers.

“You were one thing I never wanted,” she begins and reaches up with her free hand to sweep the fallen hair from his eyes, “and yet when I looked into your eyes for the first time, I found that I wanted for nothing else, because it was then that I knew what love felt like.”

Alicent watches as he hangs his head for a breath with something akin to resolve, then leans forward to place a feather-light kiss on her forehead.

“I free you from your sins.”

I forgive you.

Aegon’s voice is a ghost just behind her septa’s as the woman blesses her. There is nothing left to fight against.

Her eyes flutter closed; peace replaces her pain.

The sweet voices of babes call to her from the other side of the door to her chamber.

It’s the only thing she hears when she takes her last breath.

xxx

Alicent is 45 when she no longer feels it.

Loss.

Weightless and free, she finds there is nothing chasing after her, no beast to feed.

It ends with the release of her chains, stripped and reclaimed, but this time she is balanced, and the ground beneath her is solid.

Somewhere, in some wrinkle finely carved between space and time, Alicent is waking without the nightmares and stepping into a room filled with the warmth of an afternoon sun. The gentle breeze of summer sweeps through sheer curtains, carrying the faint perfume of the sea on its coattails.

And her babies are there. Her greatest loves. The very center of her soul borne from her body sat before her eyes, unharmed and perfect. Their silver hair catches in the light like wildfire, and the twinkle of innocent laughter brings her to her knees.

I want to see my sons again, and Helaena, my sweet girl.

They reach out for her, and her arms fall open.

She catches them, and she holds on.

And as they settle into her embrace, she knows exactly what it feels like to be whole.

Maybe it’s Heaven, or something far greater than what the New Gods could have predicted.

But perhaps it’s just a simple gift, a wish of a mother’s heart.

#alicent hightower #how do I even tag this? idk #if this is full cringe pretend you didn't read it LOL #sometimes I write things

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blueberryjam1201 · 6 months

Text

Unexpected

Chapter 7

Genre: Drama, Romance

"The part of my personality I hate the most is ...

I can't be apathetic,

I can't do things halfway...

that comes also to the love.

I wasn't aware of it until I met her, YiSeul.

I was naive to truly believe this would last forever.

I gave her my everything... ah...how can I get out from this void?"

The thunder fell silent as the morning sun has risen. The swang in the wind grass hummed the melody. A lullaby for a still sleeping souls. The doors weren't locked. In the kitchen and sitting room, only silence breathed, distracting attention from the sadness which was still lying on the floor together with scattered chips, food and a broken bottle...

Whiskey bottle...

His legs were hanging helplessly from the couch, and his arms were covering his face. That's where Kyungsoo fell asleep...there was no point in going upstairs. The bedding in the bedroom was reminding of her too much... Every corner in this house did.The void in his head created in the last few hours was keeping him sane, and at the same time cutting off the reality supply.

He moved one arm off his face, staying still in the same position. Dark circles under his wide-open eyes were telling about every second of the heartbreaking story he experienced. Red and swollen eyes were shouting about the litres of tears shedded.

...the scattered chips on the floor. Hopefully, he hadn't damaged the TV... Wet stain after throwing the glass with orange juice...it's probably sticky...needs to be washed properly... white food containers after take away were lying near the couch on the left side...oh...the pieces of food were still inside. Now they are covering part of the white carpet...it needs to be washed too...

He rose from the couch and moved slowly to the kitchen. The feeling of hangover was painted on his face, even though he wasn't drinking much. That was more of the damage made by overwhelming emotions. The silence wasn't only outside. The void created in his head was blocking any sounds from outside. There was no recollection or planning for the upcoming few minutes. Just silence. No existing thoughts.

His weak hands opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water just at the bottom. Then, after opening it and taking a sip he moved to the stairs. Climbing up was for some reason more difficult than usual. Every step seemed higher.

After reaching the top he moved to his bedroom on the left.

This corridor had two doors on the left wall leading to the bedroom and bathroom, and two on the right, a small recording mini studio and storage room. However, on that side in the middle was another corridor leading to another room. That was his library, office room or just a place dedicated to work. He opened the bedroom doors and walked inside. It was perfectly tidied, with no sign of the war. Still no sound in this void. Just an image of the white, printed bed cover. How many times has he confessed to her here? How many times did he touch her naked arms from behind to fall asleep while feeling her presence? Lost in the memories, he stood in silence for a few minutes.

Suddenly the phone started ringing in his pocket. No need to check who is calling. He ran to the bed, ripped the sheets off and threw them on the floor. Stripped the pillow case and duvet cover, ran to the wardrobe under the right wall, grabbed all the rest of the sheets from it, then ran to the stairs and threw it at the bottom... It gave him a little ease. Breathing heavily he was looking down on the abandoned sheets, and slowly the hate start to blooming in his mind.

It was a chaos in his void... It wasn't a void anymore, this became a prison. Cube filled with display screens playing that scene from the night before on loop, and many other scenes from their last year's history. Everything was becoming so clear now. He was naive. He was too absorbed by work and love he felt, that in his mind there was no possibility of doubting her. If not for her, he would probably live for work only anyway...

He moved to the storage room at the end on the left side of the stairs. This was just a simple small room, with white walls and wooden panels covering the floor. Two wardrobes on the left side, a shelving unit on the right and then a wooded glass door cabinet. Many pictures were standing behind the glass, his family, friends and ...YiSeul.

The one he was looking at was a simple couple picture... Was it? She was standing next to him in a summer dress, decorated with painted flowers, holding a small shopping bag in one hand while the other was grabbing his t-shirt sleeve for some reason. He was standing next to her...he just realised he never grabbed her hand. They never held hands randomly...

She was happy about the present. He bought an iPhone, the new model back then, with headphones on Bluetooth, and took her to the cinema to watch Pixar's new animation. She enjoyed it! ...or that's what he thought back then... he won't believe in anything anymore....

He opened the glass and grabbed all the pictures with her, then walked out of the room.

"Your hand was always near mine, I could grab it anytime... ...ah..." he looked at the floor while the teardrops appeared in his eyes corners. Then he thought:

"The sand, Collapsing under our wet steps, The long empty street...

....we didn't care about hurting our feet while running barefoot..." he suddenly took out the phone from his pocket and pressed record. There was a spark in his eyes for a second. The inspiration gave him an ease, idea for a song... He repeated everything and then added:

"The taste of this drink was different with you, I could drink from your lips until I fell..." he gritted his teeth due to sudden waves of sadness which came back again. He froze in one place and closed his eyes: "Because... I was certain... you would be there... Next to me in the morning..." He bent his back and kneeled on the floor while crying. The strong heart has broken...

That was the moment which he couldn't fight anymore... He wiped the tears, stood up and with still clenched teeth threw the picture he was looking at before to the wall, and the rest of them just over the stairs railing...

"I was certain you would be there... How naive was that..." whispered after the screams in the void had passed...

Later, he cleaned up all the mess downstairs and sat on the couch looking at the switched-off TV. The phone start to vibrate, that was Chanyeol. He looked at the screen, but there was no point in answering...he didn't want to speak or see anybody... Suddenly, the intercom bell rang. He rose and moved to the front doors.

"Hi, it's food delivery" he head after pressing the voice button. He then went outside to collect the food. It was raining...

He brought the takeaway inside, grabbed chopsticks and sat down on a couch to eat akisoba, the food he ordered. It was tasty, and the flavour wasn't as much as he expected, but considering he still hadn't eaten anything, hunger made him eat anything.

"You told me you hate akisoba" He suddenly heard her voice in his head, like in a dream, or reality if she'd be there.He stopped... Looked at the half-eaten food, left chopsticks next to it and stayed like this in silence.

"I never said I don't like it, there was always something more interesting on the menu..." he squeezed his head with his hands as if he wanted it to burst. Then grabbed food and hurried to the kitchen's bin to throw it away. Then he brought a big box from the small toilet behind the kitchen and boxed up all the items he had thrown over the stairs railing. Then, while holding the box he rushed to the door and when he was about to press the handle... He slowly backed up, turned to his coat hanging on the rack and put his left hand in the pocket. He took out a small box... That was an engagement ring he bought when he was on a trip... He planned to propose yesterday... Slowly he put it inside the box with all the sheets and the walked outside.

His household waste bins were standing in the garden next to a dumpster. It's not usual to keep a dumpster on house properties, but it was here already when he moved in, and it's useful so he kept it for large rubbish like equipment or furniture. He opened the dumpster and threw the box with the abandoned items. Then stand again in silence . Gazing and the dumpster without any move. Even his breathing has stopped...then the fire exploded inside, embracing the dumpster and creating a dark fog. Small burned pieces were flying around him, floating in the wind, touching his faces naked skin...but he hadn't felt anything... the void was still silent...

*bzzzz bzzz* the phone in his pocket rang. That woke him up from the nightmare which seemed to bring him a little piece of joy. The dumpster was still there, and the non-existing fire disappeared. He grabbed his phone without even looking at the screen, his gaze was still stuck in one place.

"Kyungsoo-yah, what's up? Why not answering my calls?" That was Chanyeol Kyungsoo needed a few seconds to sober.

"Chanyeol-ah..." he whispered

"What's up? Did you just woke up?"

"...YiSeul..."

"We need to get ready, the date is set up for next two weeks. Kim's going mad..."

"YiSeul..." Kyungsoo had to rise his voice slightly to interrupt his friend in full of excitement speech "YiSeul is gone...."

"No man, that's not good. Is it?"

"She left yesterday..."

"But why? Do you want to talk about it?" Kyungsoo lowered his head and grit his teeth, fighting with himself to not break apart. He sobered...

"Kyungsoo-yah, are you coming to work tomorrow?"

It took him few seconds to catch a breath between sobbing and holding and breath to not make any sounds.

"Tell them I feel ill...Chanyeol..." that was the moment when the tears fallen down and he couldn't hold it inside anymore. He crouched holding his stomach. "I don't know what should I do now...she said things I don't understand..." this time sobbing was more aggressive, he wanted to shout, to punch anything standing in his way..."She came back to her ex, never loved me. I was just a substitute...a support in her loneliness..."

"Kyungsoo, you need a break. I'll come by tomorrow...no, tomorrow work...I'll be there in the evening, ok? I'll definitely come..."

"No..."

"...you don't want to see anybody?"

"..."

This few seconds of silence was deafening.

"I understand, give me a call if you need anything. I'll speak with them tomorrow, so no worries. Take your time...see you" He hang up leaving Kyugsoo alone as he was told. On this dark evening, in the pitched black garden, still crouching.

Crying of sorrow...

He woke up in the morning on a bare mattress in the bedroom. In clothes. His mind was still in the void he created, hopefully any memories dissapeared.

He went to the toilet to take a shower, then grabbed a protein baton. No need for a breakfast, even though he is not going to work. His stomach wasn't feeling the hunger or any other need. He grabbed water and after getting dressed in a blue hooded tracksuit with white strips on side, he gone outside. The tracksuit hoodie was covering his head, he didn't want to show his face, nor looking at other people. Using a car was a first thought. His main point of going outside was to buy a new bedding and grocery. However, after grabbing the car doors handle, he changed his mind. He is not fully well to drive, his state of mind is not fully sane to do it, and a walk can help him collect his thoughts.

In the city center he made all the shopping as planned. The main street near his house seemed to calm him down. It's not center anymore, but all the most important shops are here...and life. Crowds of people, individuals, couples or families, all the residents are living their own life.

On This long street was a barber and next to it regular hairdresser, which looked like for women only. Funny how both of them were owned by a couple. Next, accountancy private office, a bar usually crowded by football fans, watching the match and making sure to let all the neighbours know about it. Then corner shop with limited grocery, random items and magazines. The Alley leading down to KyungSoo's place. Pharmacy. And so on... On the other side of the road, the one Kyungsoo was walking, there was a large shop dedicated for kids, electronic devices repair, jewellery shop where, except buying jewellery customers could use other jewellers services. And then KyungSoo's favourite florist's. He will look at the name today, it was bothering him for long time.

"I like this place, can't imagine to live somewhere else" the thought "Atmosphere here is like at home. We all know each other even if we never talked. All the shops were here from when I remember, it would be sad if any of them would disappear...I never showed this to YiSeul...she was always coming straight to my house, or meet in the city center...have I ever been walking with her on this street? Ah..for some reason being here is giving me a peace of mind. I should have walk more, not using car all the.." *BUM*

He jumped on side, barely stayed on his feed. Someone just bumped into him, so he impatiently start searching for the culprit...and opened eyes widely.

"I'm sorry, I'm in a hurry...woow!" This voice! It was her! The girl from the airport!

"How...how is that possible!?" They both shouted at once. She started to laugh, even though he was speechless and still tried to comprehend who is he looking at.

" Are you from here? That's unbelievable! I mean...meeting you!" She said while grabbing the sleeve of his tracksuit. "I really need to go, I hope we will meet again!" She shouted while already running forward " See you, hopefully soon!" And dissapeared...

He needed few more seconds to understand. How is this wicked girl here? He didn't even realised that left corner of his lips has raised. He smiled...? First time from two days...

He turned around and crossed the street, but after reaching other side he turned around to finally check the flower shop's name.

ROSE

...

"This is insane" he thought, and while again his one corner of lips raised slightly showing amusement, he walked down the alley leading to his house.

Back at home, he was using a new bedding sets to cover the sheets. Phone was lying on the table under the window. Vibrating. For long time. He picked it up after finishing.

11 missed calls.

Suddenly, it started to ring again. It was Kim. Kyungsoo haven't felt anything, no panic, nor fear, even though he very much knew what he will hear. He answered...

"Doh Kyungsoo, have you filled the sick leave form?"

...

"For what?"

"Exactly, I don't care about your personal life, and you shouldn't mix it with work too. Your job is important for the company, and if we won't have everything fully prepared before the event I will make sure that was Your last time. You were lucky back then, but..."

("Yeol is talking too much" he thought)

...

"That was many years ago, I always wanted to ask you, are you resending me for staying?" Kyungsoo asked. Silence...

Kim moved on his chair what was head in the mobiles speaker.

" You were THE child, and the reason why I'm mentioning it is because you are again using your personal problems"

"I believe that is a different situation, and I will be back to work...just..need few more da..."

"You need to come to work tomorrow, I don't care how heartbroken you are. I'm hanging up" and so he did...

The void suddenly became loud again. The screens showed moments of fear...when he wanted to hide, when he was running away. When he saw the thousands of eyes, heard the laughs. He covered his ears and crunched.

Suddenly the phone vibrated again, but it wasn't a call, just a text message. He slowly sat down on a bed and looked at the screen.

Message from unknown number...

"Was is Kyunggu or Kyungchu?"

Surprised, he looked up on a different messages from this number as a part of investigation, who is it?

"Do you have my suitcase?!"

Then he messed up his bangs by hand and made irritated facial expression. "It's her..."

The phone buzzed again, so he quickly looked at the screen.

"My real name is Go YoonJung, save it!"

His eyes widened suddenly.

"YoonJung?....why does it sound so familar...?"

#kdrama #kyungsoo #romance #do kyungsoo #exo kyungsoo #doh kyungsoo #do kyung soo #d.o exo #exo do kyungsoo #fanfic #fanwork #drama #comedy #d.o. expectation #d.o. highlight medley #exo d.o.#d.o. kyungsoo #exo d.o #d.o.

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sansloii · 1 year

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my brain, for no reason: what if ( hear me out ), mikah has the ability to "reincarnate" in their god au. they're the moon but that physical form is just one of many iterations of the god. and since it's possible to have many versions of a singular god, there really wouldn't be any need to prioritize any sort of memory keeping or soul preservation beyond it's basic elements: a name, a purpose, and the capability to do their job and fill their role. it's not instant but gradual, so it's not really all that noticeable initially.

so if they were killed for some reason and their form rebuilt from the cosmos and stars, they'd be a couple fragments less than what they were. as old as they are, pieces of them chip off so easily--lost to time or emptied into the void that all gods succumb to. they know something is missing and something is gone but what it is escapes them. it's like walking into a room and immediately forgetting what you're there for, but you never remember what you were there for. ever.

and if it happens multiple times, that's more fractures and feathers that break off larger and larger pieces of that shell until... it's empty. something that's them in appearance only.

their reason for being stays. that's why they exist. everything else is just a cushion to soften whatever damage their soul takes.

me, sitting in bed with my laptop: me: what the fu

#ツ ┊ ⧼ catwalk talk ⧽ ⇹ ( ooc. )#☾ ┊ ⧼ solitary in their existence ⧽ ⇹ ( god!au. )#.i #.the songs be hitting different tonight #.got me trying to destroy a perfectly good mikah #.for no reason #.if you're sy and you see this #.no you didn't

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bloodredx · 2 years

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Day 27: Strange

Funny how categorical the Precious Living have become. How the arcane and unknown have spread far from the view of minds and their eyes. How relegated to history, banned, and cursed these outliers have transformed. A sense of Order is one thing, but to make negative of items purely neutral, why, this form fails to comprehend. Where does this so called morality come from? What benefit does it offer? Perhaps, something in the nature of organized society lends itself to a series of rules for functioning. How crass and boorish! What joy is there to be found, bound in such mundanity?

Reaching far across the void, following traces of curiosity is the best part of nature. Certainly, some disasters might be kindled in the process, but nothing that will not balance out in the long stretches of energy. Perhaps that is where the miscalculation lies, the eternity a soul experiences by one body is only so short. Fear and delights, cannot be tasted in the same mouth after all.

Though, should one ask the clearly informed opinions of this form, the so called strange of the world are far more in tune with the world, the dances, the Song itself than any other being that holds up any appearances of normality. For those who are at peace with themselves, often ostracized, know that tranquility alone. And those who struggle with what they are supposed to be, whatever that means, are left grasping at identity and struggle with a sense of self until the dying breath. Pray to this form that such struggles are beyond thine notice.

The old woman continued prattling on. What exactly she was talking about, didn’t seem to matter much. Aelita’s youthful companion kept his attention on every word, even without really adding much to the conversation. He was funny like that, such a good listener but rarely getting a word in himself. Perhaps that silence was what made him so good at it. Still, she set up their board game with simple pieces, small disks along the edge of the playing field.

Aiden watched politely, having retied his hair into a proper knot behind his head. A sudden fall in the conversation, and his mouth parted just enough to speak in his whispered voice. “Madam, may I ask you something?”

Her hand paused a moment, hovering just over a stack of pieces. Slowly her fingers curled around them, causing quite the satisfying click as they slid past each other. “Well, my dear. I fear you just did.” A moment of sobriety passed over, quickly interrupted by her raucous laughter. “Oh, I really should stop being so hard on you, but your face fills itself with dread so nicely. Ask whatever you like, Aiden. I have no secrets from anyone these days.”

A hint of a smile revealed itself on his lips, a polite “thank you” as she handed him the chips. He organized them by color, rank, and by counts as his mind seemed to churn on his question. Aelita smiled gently, waiting as he found his words. When they finally came, it was to no surprise the boldness of the inquisition. “Madam, why do you continually offer to play with me?”

“Oh, is that all? Thought you had something more critical, life threatening or otherwise.”

A mark of disbelief passed quickly, but he recounted instead of recoiling. “We have had many rounds since our meeting, but you have yet to win once. Does this not dishearten you? Frustrate? I cannot imagine it has been very pleasurable.”

“My sweet, it is not about winning or losing.” Her time stained hand gently reached out, taking one of his hands gently. “When you’re as old as I, and gods bless you to make it as far as I have, it is enough to have someone to share the company. As you can see, there hasn’t been much room for entertaining in these parts. Not that anyone would come knocking at my door anyways. My favorite game requires at least another player, blessed I should be to have a chance at playing at all. Win or lose.”

“I see.” His head turned slowly, facing the warmth of the window’s light. The heat of the day would be quickly passing. A few dragonflies skittered about, diving and swooping in their quest for a meal. All seemed calm as the waves of long grass around her property flickered in the gentle breeze. Peaceful, that was how it was, how it should be. “May I inquire to the nature of this solitude? Perhaps bold, but it seems a bit perilous to you to be on your lonesome. What if you fall? Get hurt? Do you not fear this newfound death?”

She laughed again, this time more softly as she reached for a tea cup and took a small sip. The warm beverage was nice on her throat, tired as it was. “It is a new fear, death, yes. To leave the body and become so entrenched in the misery of what it means to be without life. But bah, who has time to worry when all is already lost? The First One already made their declarations. Who am I to fear or stand in the way of the divine? All songs need an end, so why not the Song?”

The woman’s eyes closed, she seemed surprisingly at peace with this new inevitability. “That… is surprising.”

“I know, it’s hard to explain, child. But, I’ve seen a lot more in this life than I think I deserved. Besides, why wouldn’t I be excited to see my oldest friend again? It’s been so long.”

He perked up at that, confusion leeching into his eyes. “Old friend?”

“I’ll let you in on a secret.” A playful grin again tore across her face. “But you have to promise to never tell anyone. ‘Least not till I’m dead and gone, alright?”

Aiden nodded slowly, somewhat hesitant to agree to such terms, but it seemed curiosity got the better of him. “Very well. You have my word.”

“Such formalities.” Aelita teased again, resisting the urge to reach across the table and pinch his cheek. “But thank you. You do an old woman an honor she doesn’t deserve.” Some weight quickly lifted off her shoulders, and she sat back with a pleased smile. “It may surprise you, but in my youth I was the priestess attendant to Adamsa Frisay. Though my service opinions on service at the time were mixed, I now better understand the purpose of that task. So yes, I am quite eager to meet my old friend again. Perhaps go on a long walk, before taking me back to wherever I am destined to go. I wager he will give a gentle hand. Never one for surprises that one. Always up front, due for duty.”

Aiden shuffled slightly in his seat, eyes set upon the game pieces before him. “I think…” He picked up the first chip and made his first move on the board. “I should like to view him in the same way you do.”

(OC-tober challenge by @oc-tober2022 can be found here.)

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thegremlinwhowrites · 7 months

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B expected an answer. An explanation. One that A could never give, knowing that it would ultimately change their relationship if B knew what they knew. If B understood that A wasn’t such an innocent little soul anymore. The silence that followed could be called suffocating, deafening, a void that needed to be filled, as it was left hanging like a doll on a string. Some image, still, presented itself in their mind. The body; punctured and still-bleeding yet without life that had been discarded as if it were a mere child’s forgotten toy. One that had been loved, and probably could’ve been loved by many more if its fate hadn’t succumbed to this. The body that had been a person. The body that would continue to be left there for the vast majority of its decomposure.

A couldn’t get the image out of their head without willing it away. Previously, before all this shit hit them, they had never needed to ‘will something away’ like they had now grown accustomed to. It came with a cruel, sick disease; black and tarred, chipping away at their sanity slowly but very much surely. They were warned of this, of course, but chose to ignore it with his cat-like curiosity. A would never have that curiosity again. Never.

They swore it.

Their partner stared. Did they have to give an answer? Really? Or was it simple enough to try and cover it up? Surely not, after all this silence had been stretched- only now- uncomfortably long. B was serious now; A could see it in their eyes, how they were searching for an answer that would either be forced out of them, or discovered within the coming weeks. A’s partner had a knack for finding information out of people; prying it even if they were dead. Maybe that was the reality of whoever’s body that was.

And that thought scared them.

Because what if their partner found out? What if, because of their stupid silence, their partner was going to find out that they knew who they were- what they had done- and the threat of their curiosity was now reaching new levels of ’I fucked up’, more than A thought it ever could.

Of course, the possibility of the perpertrator to these crimes finding out about A was a very distinctive, and terrifying, thought that made their head swim for the last couple of weeks. And now they were drowning, knowing that their lover; the one person of whom had always believed them, without any thoughts of doubt, was now the one they were afraid of the most.

That love that they held was suffocating as much as it was frustrating. It was terrifying as much as it was… thrilling? Oh god, why was a part of them looking forward to it?? To the very high chance that they would be killed by their lover savagely, without a thought of remorse.

How else could B look into their eyes with a peturbed love if they had any ounce of remorse?

Just like how A was avoiding their gaze, coffee cup in hand, dreading the mere thought of sleeping in the same bed as them that night. It was like they were being stirred up, their image distorting until it finally smoothed down into one, single line.

Their lover stood with a soft sigh. Shoulders back, tension rushing in crowds to click in between their joints. Crunched. Their words cut through them, dragging them violently from their thoughts and throwing A back down to Earth. “I think its been a long day, too long for the both of us; and you look exhausted.” A nod. “My love,” B began, and at some point they had gotten close enough that their smooth hand was able to gently tip A’s head up, but it wasn’t a dangerous gesture; and somehow, with the calm of their voice and the caring nature shown to them, A took a deep breath and finally reached their eyes and held contact. “Whatever it may be, I’m sure we can figure it out. No matter how long it takes. Okay?”

Not okay. Not okay at all.

“Yeah. Okay.” A felt the tremble in their voice, and how it must’ve felt like a stab in the heart to B. And just like a follower to a god, they wanted to repent for all of their sins in exchange for forgiveness.

This monster had been their lover, after all. Was still their lover. Despite whatever hate may be growing for them now, it would be hard to ever forget the way they smiled when the sun settled for the night. The way they would give them more than just a shoulder to lean on; their whole body. The way that they would leave a room immediately with A if they ever felt too overwhelmed. The way that they were kissing A, so tenderly that it made them want to melt into B’s arms and forgive them for whatever they crime they committed as long as B would stay with them.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

@prompts-in-a-barrel I dont know how old or new this prompt is, but I enjoyed writing it to try and get on tumblr again; so thank you. I may or may not have delved into the main plot I was going for (and had planned out) but I do like the way it turned out.

I imagine this to be a gruesome plot, hence the hanging body, with A being the villain's journalist lover that stepped a bit too far into a case that they didn't know involved B.

#my work #snippet #short story #short fiction #imagine the characters #nb pairing

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suvaan · 1 year

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In my time i find paths that diverge all lead to ash and rubble. Peoples faces melt into nothing as i churn out words unencumbered by the thought of my brain, just to fill the void of conversation. I feign interest to keep my mind active, and scrape together to pass by the minutes that feel like hours, that feel like seconds when placed beside her. Ive since realised there is no point to lying or pretending there is another, the strings attached around my soul have tangled themselves now and wont come loose, not with scissors, a knife or the jaws of life. In my days alone i ponder how i ever managed to fool myself for this long. The money i own burns into paper and finite nothingness, and the empty woman cannot fill my cup because each word uttered from their mouth is a glaring reminder they are not mine. For when i am with her, home feels safe, and my face looks nice, and my eyes rest easy, and my heart beats in sync. The world makes sense. Loyal to a fault perhaps, patient and ever so passionate yet pushed away at a moments glance. I remember thinking perhaps it weren’t me that belonged. To no one, and nothing, eternally scorned to sit in the shadows of the Remanence of love. Perhaps. Then only does god etch for me , a timeline, distills a memory concoction that when i speak her name, emits in the air the smell, that reminds me of a day i picked flowers for her, the view of a concrete road in which was made euphoric hearing her read to me something from a book she wrote when she was in her teens. A picture, when paired with the others that paints a scrapbook of a year gone by and with enough attention to detail can see a man losing his demons in her. Prayer allows me to thank you for the times in my life before her, they were excruciating, painful, almost impossible to get through, pray i do, to thank you for those times, knowing if i hadn’t gone through them i wouldn’t be capable of appreciating whats in front of me now. Blessed or cursed may i walk 10,000 more days, for i know and confide in you one thing, we shared an analogy as i grew up. each person who took, chipped, ripped and scoured my heart became to me another stop on my bus en route to that person I’ve longed for my whole life. As i look around i see the passengers have gone, and the bus has stopped, i turned to the driver and he looked an awful lot like you, he tipped his cap to me and smiled saying “son, this is your stop” and so it goes.

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cheesy09 · 3 years

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Scorching Night

This oneshot was based off of Kiro’s Stardust Date, and takes place right after it (Because the angst in that date was immaculate 😩)

I know it's been a while since I've written anything, so I sincerely thank you guys for sticking around (´꒳`)♡

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!

Pairing: Kiro x MC (third person POV) Word Count: 2,800 Genres: Romance, Angst (a lot of it T^T) Warnings: Super suggestive!

"The reward I want more right now... is you."

His soft words echoed in the back of her head, along with the memory of his scorching lips. The wrapping of an insatiable tongue around her own, the taste of him intoxicatingly sweet; so much so, that she wanted to drown in him.

She knows she shouldn't think about it too much, but that scene was engraved in her mind. Playing on repeat, over and over; like a broken record.

The burning touch, his breathless whispers, and the half-lidded gaze that carried a mixture of light and shadow in its unfathomable depths...

She blushed at the thoughts running through her head. Especially since the subject of said 'thoughts' was now seated right next to her in the back of the car, their shoulders only mere inches apart. She could feel his warmth, even though they weren't touching, making the tiny space all the more suffocating.

Ever since they left the concert venue, Kiro hadn't said a thing. Nor did she, for that matter. If Savin was here he would have frowned once he noticed the odd silence between them, but he wasn’t, which she was grateful for because she didn't know how she would have reacted. And even worse, how she would've faced Kiro.

After all, she couldn't stop thinking of him; the way he kissed her, his lips burning against her own...

Or the way he called her name after that, his voice dyed in the colors of a fire; warm and passionate.

By no way was that their first kiss. Not by a long shot. But the urgency of his lips on hers had left her dizzy and short of breath.

She thought back to those warm, sultry nights—nights just like this one—when hands wandered a little too far, and makeouts got a little too intense. Moments when that velvety voice of his—his whispers and soft sighs—were hers and hers alone. The memories sent a shiver down her spine and she forced herself to stop thinking, lest she sailed into even more treacherous waters.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes.

Kiro was looking out the window, a hand tucked under his chin, seemingly lost in thought. The passing street lights cast a faint glow on his features, illuminating his intense and solemn eyes.

She couldn't tell what it was that he was thinking about, but he suddenly moved and let out a faint breath, running a hand through his hair, his long fingers raking through the silky blonde strands and exposing his clean forehead.

Then his hand slid down, following the slender curve of his neck to his chest, and he undid a button of his shirt. He let out another light sigh and fell back against the car seat, his expression carrying a hint of tiredness and frustration.

Seeing that, she frowned, and couldn't help asking "Is something wrong?"

Not expecting the question, Kiro's eyes shot in her direction. His blue irises darkened slightly, and then unhurriedly looked away as he instinctively slid his hand into his hair again, his posture languid and a tad bit sexy.

"Nothing, it's just..." his tongue—one that had been wonderfully exploring her mouth just a few hours ago—flitted out, and slowly wetted his bottom lip. "...really hot."

His voice was low, sitting on the edge of something. But his words seemed to have an added layer to them, hot and heavy, as if they were heated up by the burning tip of his tongue. She felt her heart rate speed up, and her face burn, the sizzling tension between them so thick, it was almost overwhelming.

"Yeah," she replied, shyly tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear, her voice so soft even she could barely hear it. "It is."

She shifted her sight then to look out the window, but she could feel Kiro's smoldering gaze on her, searing into her skin, which just made her cheeks grow redder.

She didn't know why, but ever since his declaration of love a few days ago, Kiro had been acting a bit differently than usual. His body language became more and more solemn with each passing day, and even those unwavering eyes of his got a tad bit brighter.

Like he had made up his mind about something.

What it was, she didn’t know. But what she did know was that whatever it was, it made her uneasy.

“Promise me, alright? Don’t forget me even if I leave.”

The words he had spoken then sounded grim and final, laced with so much yearning it took her breath away.

Her heart ached. The Kiro she had been holding then had felt like mist. Like he could have evaporated the second she took her eyes off him. Distant and vulnerable. Lonely. And the fact that he was leaving the country tomorrow for a photoshoot made her even more anxious.

"Penny for your thoughts?" A tender voice rang out close, intimate. She turned.

She didn't know when, but Kiro had moved closer to her, approaching her with those brilliant azure orbs, closing the distance between them. His body heat radiated off of him in warm currents, sucking out the very air from the atmosphere until all she could breath and touch was him. He smelled of fresh pine and musk, invading her senses, making her ears buzz and her tongue fuzzy.

Just like the way he barged into her life, she thought. With his dazzling smiles and warm hugs, occupying ever nook and corner with his existence, stealing her mind, body and soul.

By God, she loved him. She loved him more than life itself.

She didn't know if she had been aware that their driver wasn't watching or if she just didn't care, but she leaned up and pecked him on the corner of his mouth, lacing their fingers together in the dark empty space between their bodies, as if filling a void.

She felt possessed, her desire to get closer to him emboldening her to press further into him, breathing in his scent and burying her face in the crook of his neck. "Mmm... you smell really nice," she sighed wistfully.

She felt Kiro stiffen under her, and his grip on their interlaced fingers instantly tightened. She could almost the picture the turbulence in his eyes when he said "God, you are making this so much harder."

Kiro's breath was ragged and his voice dark and guttural, carrying with it something unspoken that made her heart thud and a fire stir in the pit of her stomach. She raised her head to look into his eyes and felt her breath catch at the storm that was brewing within them. They flickered down to her parted lips, and she suddenly felt hot all over.

"We’ve arrived, sir," a voice called from the front and they both instinctively pulled back, the spell broken.

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───

The walk to the front door of his house had been a silent one, neither of them knowing what to say. Her mind was in a frenzy, and her heart was doing no better. All of her thoughts seemed to center around only one person.

"Just so you know," Kiro's voice broke through her thoughts, now back to its usual chipper, as he opened the door to his house. "I didn't really have time to clean up, so my place is in a bit of a mess. Don't say I didn't warn you."

She laughed, slightly relaxing under the usual, familiar atmosphere.

Kiro was a mystery in that sense. On one hand he could leave her all hot and bothered, desperately wanting his hands on her. And on the other hand, he could make her laugh and be free. "No worries. It's not like I'm any better."

"Oh, yeah! I still remember those dozens of magazines of me on your bed-"

"Kiro!" She whined, red with embarrassment. "I thought you said you would forget about that!"

"I made no promises," he replied, with feigned solemnness.

They walked into the house, their laughter ringing, and as soon as the lights turned on, she spotted the packed suitcases and travel bags in the living room, coldly reminding her of the fact that Kiro was still supposed to leave the very next morning.

She was used to it—constantly having to separate from him. Their jobs had required that of them. They would text and video call each other every day to fill in that void.

But for some reason, today was different.

Her chest felt tight, and she took in a shaky breath.

"I see you're all set for tomorrow," she remarked as Kiro discarded his jacket onto the sofa, leaving himself in only a black shirt and dark jeans. She had to stop herself from letting her eyes rove over the exposed skin of his well-defined collarbones, and instead, looked towards the side, her hands clenched into fists, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Stop getting tempted, she chided herself.

Kiro gazed at the baggage and laughed, almost imperceptibly. “Yeah. My flight’s at ten in the morning, so I had to pack early.” Saying that, he walked towards her, his familiar body temperature approaching her again.

His eyes were like blue flames, torching her soul, fanning the flames that never stopped burning. She swallowed, rapidly turning towards the door. Her voice sounded a little flustered. “Then I’ll take your leave. You should go and rest up for tomorrow.”

She was almost there, only an inch away, but before she could even touch the door handle, a scorching hand wrapped around her waist and her back was instantly pulled up against a firm chest.

She felt his breath before she heard him speak.

“Where do you think you’re going, Miss Chips?” he whispered, his voice shaded with sensuality. Dark and hungry. “You need to finish what you started.”

“What’re you talking about?” She sighed, automatically leaning back into his touch, her heart racing a mile a minute. “You’re the one who kissed me first.”

“Maybe,” he murmured. “But you’re the one who kept the fire going.”

His hand reached up above her and before she knew it, the lights were switched off.

“Kiro, you—”

“Stay.” His hot lips pressed against her ear and a shiver ran down her spine. “Please stay.”

Kiro’s arms had completely encircled her at that point, and she was distracted by the movement of his lips over her skin as they travelled from her neck, down to her bare shoulder. She couldn’t help but sigh blissfully in his arms.

“You may have to look for me next time.”

Suddenly, his words from earlier came crashing into her mind, like an unexpected boulder, snapping her back to reality. The unease was back, like a snake coiling around her heart, and she opened her eyes in a daze.

“Kiro....” Even in her own ears, she could hear the longing that filled that whisper. That drunkenness from before came over her again and she hooked a hand around his neck, softly caressing his nape.

Kiro purred at her touch, and she turned her head to the side, her lips brushing his cheek in the process. “Don’t go,” she pleaded.

He froze for a second, body almost rigid, and silent... But then sighed the very next instant, spinning her around and pinning her up against a wall. She didn’t even have time to think before she felt his mouth latching onto hers.

The temperature instantly spiked up, and she felt her body ignite against him. Their lips moved in sync, expressing something that couldn't be put to words.

Pain, reluctance, longing, desire.

She didn't know why, but the way he kissed her made her heart ache.

Her hands were on the front of his shirt and she stroked the skin of his collarbones and chest, eliciting a soft groan out of him as he shivered. Kiro was lean, and firm; beautifully sculpted under her palms, and she felt her fingers travelling down, undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt.

"Miss Chips...." Kiro sighed against her mouth, and hooked his arms under her legs, prompting her to wrap them around his waist. He put his lips over her eyes, nose, chin and throat, his kisses like silk, melting into her skin. She gasped when she felt him suck on the sensitive spot of her neck.

"Mmm... Kiro, c-can we go to the bedroom first?" she whispered, her legs itching to pull him closer. His black shirt was now creased and disheveled, slipping past his shoulders, the dark material offering a beautiful contrast to his white skin under the pale moonlight.

He was gorgeous. So incredibly, undeniably gorgeous.

Her love, her light.

What would she ever do without him?

Kiro slowly pulled away from her neck, leaned up and kissed her again, softly this time, but still enough to steal away her breath again. It was tender and affectionate, but belied a passion that was on the verge of loosing control.

It made her heart skip a beat.

He laughed breathlessly against her lips, and his voice was hoarse when he spoke.

"Your wish is my command, my Miss Chips."

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───

Ten seconds. That’s how long it took them to get to the bedroom.

It was like a secret shared in the darkness. One that was littered with kisses and soft sighs. Charming and intoxicating, just like him.

As soon as she locked the door of his room behind them, his hand latched onto the back of her head, and he drew her into that sweet vortex once again.

Their bodies pressed together with urgency and their hungry mouths moved, as if trying to rob each other of breath. His unbuttoned shirt had left his chest exposed to her, and she trailed her fingers over his skin in a slow, sensuous drag, making him gasp into her mouth and press into her even harder.

As if in retaliation, his tongue slipped in between her lips and she moaned with pleasure at the sensation. She knew it. He was driving her nuts.

And yet, despite all of this, those daunting fears and anxiety over his departure never seemed to dissipate.

They tugged at her nerves, as if taunting her, causing her to kiss him harder, pull him closer.

The two had reached the edge of the bed by then, and she pushed him to sit down, straddling him in the process.

Kiro's eyes were half-lidded and dilated, a look of complete intoxication casted over his beautiful features. Golden hair framed his face and his cheeks were flushed under her fingertips. Looking at his perfectly messy appearance, a small bit of pride bloomed in her chest. She hoped she made him at least half as crazy as he made her.

She felt tears burn in the corner of her eyes.

Who was she kidding? She'd never be able to let go.

"Miss Chips?" She heard Kiro call when he felt her grip tighten over his shirt. She had been oddly quiet the past few seconds and he was starting to get worried. "Is something wrong?"

She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Don't leave," she whispered urgently.

She dropped another kiss on the side of his nose, caressing his cheeks. "Please don't."

One on the corner of his lips. She could hear the crack in her voice and the moisture gathered over her eyelashes was enough to tell her she was about to cry. "Don’t go somewhere where my hands can't reach you."

"M-miss Chips," Kiro pleaded, his whisper breathy and soft, his eyes barely open in the face of her intensity. They were so close, just a few centimeters apart, and their hot breaths entangled in the space between them.

"Even if it's a lie, tell me you won't leave me," she said, desperation clouding her mind. Her lips ran over the shell of his ear, trying to place feverish kisses over every inch of him.

She tried not to look at his expression. To see the pain and sadness that flashed in those deep sea blue eyes. Because if she did, she would break.

Kiro paused for a moment. A brief instance of hesitation. The only sounds were their rapid and heavy breathing.

"I won't."

His voice was low, barely even there. But hearing his words, her heart finally grew somewhat at ease. She finally closed the gap between them then, kissing him square on the mouth. Slowly, deeply.

She'd worry about the rest of those unfinished words in the morning. But for tonight, they had each other, and that was enough.

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───

Thank you so much for reading! For more of my works, please refer to my masterlist (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

#mlqc #mlqc fanfiction #mlqc kiro #kiro fanfiction #mlqc fanfic #kiro fanfic #oof that was one angsty end wasn't it?#NOW EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO DIG MYSELF A HOLE AND HIDE THERE

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