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#now look at that sad face. this is the face of true despair
front-facing-pokemon · 6 months
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ccsainzleclerc5516 · 19 days
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Family Of Four
Pairing: Lando Norris x reader
Warnings: none
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Being a young mother of two small children, one of whom is 3 months and the other 4 years old, is something no one could have prepared you for. You knew from the beginning that it wasn't going to be easy since Lando couldn't always be there to help you with the two of them, but sometimes you thought you were gonna lose your mind.
Phoebe was 4 years old, the spitting image of her dad. She was a little lady with big brown curls and sassy attitude who always stole everyone's hearts with her personality. On the other hand, Kian was only 3 months old, usually a very calm little baby boy who was a perfect mix of both you and Lando.
This was one of those days when you wanted to jump out of your own skin. One of those days when you didn't know what to do first, who to take first, who to comfort first. Both kids were screaming crying, Phoebe because she was hungry, even though she refused to eat 20 minutes before when you asked her, and Kian because he had stomach cramps that were very painful.
While Phoebe was throwing a tantrum and rolling on the floor screaming, Kian was crying so hard that you almost cried too because you didn't know how to help him anymore. You were going crazy while waiting for Lando to come back from work duties.
Days like this didn't happen often, but when they did, you felt like you were failing as a mother. Deep down you knew it wasn't true, but you just couldn't understand how a pregnant Nara Smith manages to literally produce cereal for her children's breakfast, yet here you are, not even able to calm your two children by yourself.
"It's okay, it's okay baby boy, please stop crying" You despaired, talking softly, rubbing Kian's back and walking around the living room with him. "Phoebe, get up from the floor right now!"
"I'm hungry!"
"Can you just wait 5 more minutes until your brother stops crying? Can you please do that for me?"
"No, I want daddy!" She yelled which startled Kian and made him cry even more.
"Oh my God.." You were on the verge of a breakdown. "Shh, baby, it's okay..shh"
Thankfully, minutes after she screamed for her dad, Lando walked through the front door.
"Guys, what is going on here?" He asked taking off his jacket looking at the chaotic scene in front of him.
"Please, do something" Your voice trembled, the tears already formed in your eyes threatening to spill out.
"Baby, what's going on? Are you okay?" He approached you putting one hand on your cheek and the other on Kian's back.
"No" You shook your head. "I'm going to the bedroom to try to calm him down. Phoebe's hungry because she didn't wanna eat 20 minutes ago when I begged her to. Now she's screaming for no reason."
"I'll deal with her, don't worry, okay?" He said kissing your cheek before you left with Kian in your arms.
"Pheebs, get up, c'mon" Lando said gently pulling her up by her arm.
"Daddy" She cried with no tears.
"What's wrong? Why are you crying?" He asked lifting her up in his arms and brushing her hair from her sweat-sticky face.
"I'm hungry"
"Okay, but have you ever been hungry for more than 10 minutes before you got to eat?" He asked walking to the kitchen with her and sitting her down on the kitchen island. "Have you?"
"No.." She said quietly sniffling and looking down at her hands.
"Baby, look at me" Lando gently lifts her chin up with his finger "You're a big sister now, and big sisters don't act this way. If your brother is crying because he's in pain, you need to be patient. No one's gonna forget about you, but you need to help mommy, and you screaming while she's trying to calm him down is not helpful at all."
Phoebe stayed silent looking at Lando with sad puppy eyes before asking "Do you l-love baby brother more than me?"
Pheebs was daddy's girl from day one. She was his first one. His everything and more. She had him completely wrapped around her finger and he knew it, but he loved it.
Since he was away a lot, he couldn't spend as much time as he wanted with his kids so he was always very lenient with them. Especially with Pheebs because she was older. She always got what she wanted and Lando was always very happy to fulfill her every wish.
He could never say no to her. How could he say no when every time when Lando goes on a race, she calls him on a video call to say "I miss you daddy, you're going to win tomorrow because you're the best" It makes his heart melt every time.
"Baby, mommy and I love you and your brother equally. There's no way we love one more than the other, okay?" He said cupping her cheeks. "But you're always gonna be daddy's little girl, yeah? My tiny princess" He starts tickling her showering kisses all over her face making her giggle.
"Will my princess eat now so we can go get ready for bed?" He asked to which she quickly agreed nodding her head.
After dinner, Lando helped her brush her teeth, put on her pyjamas and put her to bed.
"I love you, daddy." She stretched out her arms for one more hug before Lando got up and left her room.
"I love you too, darling. Good night."
Once he was done with Phoebe, he went to see where you and Kian were.
"Y/n?" He said quietly entering your bedroom with dimmed lights. You were lying on the bed next to Kian who was finally asleep. "Are you sleeping?"
"No" You answered quietly as he sat down next the two of you.
"Baby, what's wrong?" He asked noticing that your eyes were red from crying. "Come here" Opening his arms, he pulls you to himself.
"I'm so tired, Lan" You sob quietly into his chest. It was all just too much for you. You didn't have any time for yourself. You were with two little kids 24/7 and you just felt like you were losing yourself. "I feel like I'm losing my mind. He's still having cramps and it hurts me to see him in pain. And I feel like I'm neglecting Phoebe like I'm not giving her enough attention since he came and-"
"Y/n, baby, stop. I don't wanna hear you being hard on yourself. They're kids, they have their good and bad days. It doesn't mean we're failing as parents if they're having a bad day. You're the best, most loving and caring mom ever, but you need a break. Let me please find someone to help you out with them when I'm not home."
"No, I can take care of my own kids when you're not home" You were being stubborn. You were refusing to get a nanny even though you knew you needed it when Lando was away because both your and Lando's parents were not living in Monaco so they couldn't be there when you needed them.
"I know you can, but I need you to be okay above everything else." He says leaving a kiss on your head that was still resting on his chest.
"I know, I'm sorry, it's been such a hard day and I missed you so much"
"Shh, I've got you, baby."
Later that night, when both kids were fast asleep, Lando and you finally had some time for yourselves. Both of you were in the living room on the couch in front of the TV. You were half asleep with your head in Lando's lap as he played with your hair and watched some TV show.
He smiled softly when he noticed you fell asleep. He didn't want to disturb you, but he wanted to cuddle you so he pulled you up closer to him. You laid your head against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead whispering how much he loves you and how much he's proud of you.
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kamiversee · 1 month
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➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏
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✧.* CHAPTER 50 || The Sad Backstory
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[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?
[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, heavy angst, childhood trauma, heavy mentions of violence/abuse, & death mentioning.
[ { A/N } ] ➤ The family dynamic isn’t canon to the anime/manga at all, in case that wasn’t obvious before now. So, the relations depicted here are simply made up for fanfic purposes. (Just wanted to put this disclaimer out there just in case)
[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4.2k
[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.
[ [ chapters mlist } ]
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——IT WAS SILENT for the first few minutes. Aside from the heat blowing onto the two of you, there was this sense of distance and coldness in the air.
Was that due to the rain? Was it the weather that’d brought such a despairing feel to the two of you? Or, was it truly that distance and coldness were approaching?
You didn’t know what to say just yet and neither did Choso. The thoughts in his brain had slowed and he was organizing how he should go about this while wondering if you’d just come out and explain yourself.
Who should start this tough conversation, he or you? Does it matter? If you don’t start, does that silently say something about you and what's been done? If he doesn’t start, does that make him seem upset with you? The two of you collectively felt the same thing and you both didn’t know what to do.
You weren’t used to getting to this point in a conversation. What you’d grown accustomed to was nothing but confusion on top of vague explanations that further clouded your blurred assumptions of the truth. Gojo had done that to you far too many times for you to know what to do now.
How… What’s the right way to tell Choso everything? Are you going to tell him everything? Is it best that you do? What if he hates you like how you hated Gojo? It wouldn’t be weird after all, you hated Gojo and loved him at the same time— whether or not you’d like to admit it.
What about Gojo-, wait what? What about Gojo? Why are you considering him right now? Are you worried that if you explain the story of the list, it’ll put this negative stigma on Gojo? Who cares?
You do.
You hate that you do but it’s true.
You’ve seen too many sides of Gojo for you not to care about painting him as some big villain when, at the end of the day, even villains have tragic stories that molded them into the person they are now. That doesn’t excuse the man but since you know nothing of the truth about Gojo, you can’t see yourself making him seem like a bad guy anymore.
He has his issues, sure. But, you don’t know why. That’s what makes this all so damn difficult.
How can you tell Choso that the other person you fell in love with is the reason you slept with Sukuna? What would Choso think of that? Would he pity you or would he blame you for not coming to him sooner?
How the hell are you going to-
“Baby,” Choso calls out, ripping you from your thoughts completely. You’d zoned out and didn’t even realize you had tears in your eyes until you blinked them away and turned your head to Choso.
His hand reaches over to you and he places it atop your thigh. You look down and notice your leg has been bobbing up and down excessively. Were you that anxious?
This won’t go badly, right? Why are you panicking? Are you-
“Relax,” Choso whispers, and his thumb swirls over your thigh, trying to soothe you. “Whatever you’re thinking, ignore it.”
You swallow and stare at the man with widened eyes, “But-“
“It’s just you and me right now,” He says, forcing a soft smile on his face, “Get outta’ your head.”
You take a deep breath and sniffle, batting your eyelashes as you try to rid your eyes of the tears. Choso lifts his hand from your thigh and in a way that seems to be second nature to him, he wipes away the tears from your face.
“It’s just me ‘nd you, baby,” He murmurs, “Stop being so nervous, okay?”
“Choso,” You hum, watching the way his gaze softens.
“Yes princess?” He replies. His voice is so gentle now that it’s making you feel guilty for some reason.
You exhale carefully, “What if… W-What if I tell you everything a-and you…” Your eyes water all over again, “What if you hate me-“
He cuts you off with the sound of your first name leaving his lips. His tone is still light but there’s this sternness to it, almost as if he didn’t like what you just said, “There’s no truth you can give me that’d make me hate you.” Choso reassures you, leaning closer just a bit, “I love you. Everything that’s you, I love.”
Your nerves are still unsettled, “E-Even if-“
“The worst thing you could say to be is that you’re in love with Sukuna,” He tells you, scoffing a little.
You shake your head no and your face twists up, “I’m not.”
“Alright then.” Choso shrugs, “I told you, I’ll love you no matter what. In a dark room, you’re my light, no matter how dim that light may be.”
You frown, “Cho, you really did lie, you’re just fine with words.”
“Only at times like this,” He murmurs, “When uh, when it’s you I guess…”
You lift a hand up to your face, pulling his hand away and turning to it. Choso watches you as you shyly kiss his palm and he swallows down the tsunami of loving feelings that threatened to drown him. Such a simple action and yet it made his mind blank for a second.
Then you move away from his hand, “Okay,” You utter, “Where uhm…” Your eyes trail back over to him, “Where should I start?”
You release his hand and he retracts it from you simply. Thinking for a minute, Choso does that thing where he studies your eyes, losing himself in them. Then, he lets out a sigh when he comes up with something.
“What if we uh,” He moves to adjust himself in his seat, “What if I ask you questions and you just answer?” Choso suggests.
You blink, “You… You don’t want me to just tell you everything?”
“No,” He sighs, “There are certain things I don’t think I’d want to know.”
By that, it’s meant that you may give him details that he just doesn’t want in his brain. Choso wants the truth, yes, but only parts of the truth that won’t make him feel sick. Knowing that you had sex with Sukuna is already enough, he doesn’t need more details surrounding that. Hence the offering of asking questions. 
“Okay,” You murmur.
“But,” Choso’s brows knit together and he faces forward in deep thought, “Well, I don’t know if maybe I should just tell you everything first.”
You turn to face forward as well, your eyes dropping down to your lap as you toy with your fingers, “Well, that’s up to you I guess. Is it better for you to tell me everything so that I have it in mind or is it better to know all I’ve done as you tell me everything?”
He swallows, “The first, I think.”
“Did that even make sense?” You breathe out to yourself, worrying that you may have confused him-
“Yeah,” Choso says, “Yeah it did. T-That’s uh, that’s actually better than what I suggested.”
“Is it?” You ask, glancing at him.
He nods, “Mhm, I think if I tell you everything, you may understand the reactions I’ll have to certain answers you give me.”
A sigh slips past you, “Okay, tell me everything then.”
There’s a hint of a smile there on his face but it lingers for only less than a second before that, and every ounce of emotion is drained from his face. Choso’s face goes completely expressionless.
“Where do I even start…” He mutters.
Your voice is soft with him, “Wherever feels most comfortable.”
“Everything about what I’ve experienced with Sukuna is uncomfortable.” He huffs out, “And… I’ve never told anyone about it.”
“Not even…” You bite your lower lip for a second but then you ask anyway, “Not even Yuki?”
“She learned more about Sukuna in that cafe than she has during her relationship with me so, no.” Choso explains, “I don’t like talking about him.”
“I understand.” You say, nodding, “And that’s alright, I’m not going anywhere so, take your time.”
“Alright,” Choso sighs heavily, “Well…”
He starts slow, careful even. It was clear by the way he shifted in his seat and put his words together in a well throughout manner.
Choso began by explaining when he met Sukuna. Because they’re step-siblings, they only share one parent and in this case, it was their father. Choso explained how his dad was a complicated man who found himself having two different women in which he went back and forth between.
Choso met Sukuna when he was five years old, Sukuna being eight at the time. From first impressions, Choso tells you that he thought it was cool to have an older sibling and that he looked up to Sukuna. At five, only Eso was born and not yet Kechizu.
Given that, Choso knew what it was like to play the role of an older brother and he loved it so he thought it’d be amazing to have that experience for himself. Only, Sukuna was the worst thing to ever happen to him. Choso describes in vivid detail how eight-year-old Sukuna looked. For one, the resemblance to the later-born Yuji is uncanny, one would mistake them for twins if they were the same age.
Even so, Sukuna’s appearance was odd. He was only eight and yet he had a bruised lip and a look of pure hate in his eyes. At the time, Choso thought it was cool that Sukuna was hurt but seemed unfazed by the pain and even wanted to be like him.
But, the second five-year-old Choso found himself alone with the older boy and made the mistake of commenting on his bruised lip, praising it in an attempt to connect with him, Sukuna punched him.
One hit was all Choso needed to realize, even at the age of five, growing up with Sukuna wasn’t going to be as pleasant as he thought. And it sure as hell wasn’t, there was nothing pleasant about growing up with Sukuna, especially when Choso’s mother later passed away during the birth of Kechizo.
She was a soft-spoken woman who hardly spoke up for herself in regard to her husband who had an entirely different family so, when she passed, Choso remembers being sad but the emotion didn’t remain long. Anger clouded Choso more than anything at the time and to make matters worse, he and his two younger siblings moved in with his step-family.
It was torture. The process of raising his two younger brothers while being beaten up and ridiculed by an older brother simply made Choso’s life hell. Violence seemed to follow him everywhere. From Sukuna hitting him whenever he felt like it to watching Sukuna’s mother beat up on his father, Choso became very well acquainted with abuse and violence.
Because he knew no better, he never really stood up for himself either. In the slim chance he did, Sukuna would proceed to simply bully him— locking him in a dark room for hours knowing it scared Choso, beating him with items, some sharp, some dull, he doesn’t remember, it all hurt the same.
This hate that burns in Choso’s heart for Sukuna just built up over the years more and more until Yuji was born.
Choso tells you he never knew why but when the kid was born, Sukuna softened up on him for a while. Choso was nine when Yuji was born so for four years before that, he’d been bullied, outcast, and abused by his family, safe from his younger siblings of course.
Maybe it was the way Sukuna softened up after his youngest brother was born that Choso found himself catering to Yuji more than anything. Perhaps it was an act of thanks as Yuji felt like his savior when all he did was be born.
Even so, as much as Choso denies it, Yuji was his favorite. Not at first though, when he initially saw the bright pink-haired baby, he was repulsed, thinking this would be Sukuna in smaller form. Said repulsion remained until the first time Yuji smiled at him.
It was different. Sukuna never smiled so, Choso knew then that Yuji would be nothing like his older identical sibling.
Even so, years passed and Choso continued to endure abuse for his now three younger brothers. Sukuna never laid a hand on any of them since he had Choso to beat up on and for a while, Choso was okay with that.
But of course, that only lasted until their parents passed. A car accident was all it took to strip all five children of their parents. But, by that time, Sukuna was eighteen and immediately put in charge of his four other siblings. It was unjust, of course, as no eighteen-year-old should have to raise four siblings by himself.
Choso tells you how he doesn’t remember how it all worked exactly but, Sukuna managed to convince those of the law to have him become their parental guardian. The man got a well-paying job, god knows what it was too because he had so much money, he made sure that all four boys were able to continue to attend school, etc.
Basically, of all this care and parenting, what Choso couldn’t understand is why Sukuna did that. He didn’t know why Sukuna didn’t simply allow the four to go to some orphanage and part ways, it’s not like he ever showed love to them anyway.
But, Choso eventually learned the answer as Sukuna treated all four of his younger siblings as his servants— forcing them to do whatever he needed, regardless of the wrong behind it or the difficulty. Choso lived with Sukuna as his parental figure in that big house he now throws parties at for years.
And for some time, he really believed Sukuna couldn't get any worse. That was, until at age seventeen Choso witnessed with his own eyes Sukuna knocking a woman out.
“He what?” You scoff.
You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. It was already a lot to take in but the most unbelievable part of it was Sukuna’s treatment of women, especially after you think back to how he treated you.
“You heard me,” Choso hums, shrugging, “He knocked her out cold. Hell, I thought she was dead.”
Your lashes are batting in disbelief, “He just… He just punched this random chick?”
“W-Well, no, of course not,” Choso goes to explain further, “From what I remember, that was his girlfriend…”
You scoff, “You’re joking.”
“I’m not, she used to come over all the time before that,” He tells you.
Then, Choso explains the entire day to you.
How that day Sukuna came home late in the afternoon covered in bruises, cuts, and blood. Choso tells you he tried to ask Sukuna what happened but, naturally, all he got was a simple fuck off from his older brother. Of course, Choso didn’t need to be told twice and he did that.
Barely twenty minutes had gone by and the doorbell rang. Choso was in another room but he heard Sukuna go to answer it, followed by the sound of his girlfriend’s voice. Choso tells you it sounded like they were arguing and it was so loud and heated up until the sound of a slap echoed throughout the house.
Choso had gotten up from where he was and went to go see what happened and just as he neared the corner, he heard the sound of a punch, followed by a slight crack, and then a thump. When he rounded the corner, he saw Sukuna standing over his girlfriend who was out cold on the ground with what seemed to be a broken jaw.
You’re told that this was the only time he’d ever seen Sukuna act so oddly because although he couldn’t see his face, Sukuna’s fingers were trembling and he was breathing heavily. Then, Choso thinks he imagined it but he swears he saw something wet fall from Sukuna’s face.
“I think it was blood though,” Choso says, “I can’t imagine that man crying but, he did stand there for a while.”
“So, he knocked his girlfriend out and just stood there?”
“Yeah, for at least five minutes just staring down at her, almost like he was waiting for her to get back up,” Choso proceeds, “And when he did move, it was to look back at me. I was scared he’d take his anger out on me like always but, he didn’t.”
“What did he do?”
“He told me that if there’s anything he wants me to learn from him,” Choso slowly looks at you, “It’s that I should ‘never let a woman destroy what makes me a man’.”
“I see.”
“Either way, Sukuna changed again after that.” He goes on with his story, having grown more comfortable with opening up to you, “He went back to hitting me, threatening to hurt Eso and Kechizu, never Yuji though…”
You listened again, nodding and taking in everything given to you.
Choso explains that this continued until he turned eighteen and Sukuna was twenty-one. Choso didn’t hesitate to move out and in doing so, he was soon able to gain custody of his brothers, just not Yuji.
He hated that he couldn’t take Yuji with him as he moved out but, he thought maybe it’d be okay since Sukuna never touched Yuji. Choso hates thinking back on it now because he wishes he fought harder.
Even so, Sukuna just had his way over those in law, or maybe connections, Choso wasn’t sure but he somehow managed to keep Yuji under his guidance. That’s when Choso requested one thing from Sukuna, that request being that Yuji is actually taken care of and never touched.
Less than a month after Sukuna agreed to this promise, Choso came over to check on his youngest sibling, and lo and behold, the kid had a black eye. Choso had never felt such a murderous intent rile up in him the way it had that day.
He and Sukuna fought later that day, Choso not only lost said fight but also knew that because of it, he’d never be able to win custody over Yuji since Sukuna pulled the self-defense card.
Either way, to wrap things up, Choso tells you that since then he’s been back and forth between school and court trying to win custody over Yuji. He’s still struggling with it but he’s trying his hardest. Choso tells you he’s lucky enough to have his other two brothers, who reside in a distant relative’s place now.
Even with the tiring processes of legal proceedings and court battles, Choso explains he’ll keep trying until he physically can’t anymore because he refuses to allow Sukuna to harm Yuji forever. Plus, that bright smile of Yuji’s is what keeps Choso motivated.
It was like Yuji knew his big dark-haired brother would help him out eventually. And even if he didn’t, Choso points out to you how Yuji talks like he didn’t mind fighting with Sukuna and that he’s managed to sneak a few hits on the guy before.
In the midst of all that, there was that day Choso ran into you.
“Like I said, violence follows me everywhere so it’s kinda funny how we literally ran into each other,” Choso exclaims, his face brightening back up for the first time since this convo started. “I was… I dunno, enamored by you? I mean, I’ve had crushes and girlfriends before but just that small first convo with you was everything to me.”
“I’m glad I was feeling talkative that day,” You joke, “Normally I would’ve picked my stuff up and ran off, especially since you’re hot.”
Choso can’t help the grin that spreads across his face, “Mhm, same here. Those shoes you were wearing really caught my eye though.”
“Yeah and your face tatt’ caught mine,” You explain, smiling to yourself as you both recall it, “It’s kinda sad to find out you only got it to cover a scar. I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”
Choso shrugs, “It’s fine now. I uh, I actually feel better now that I’ve said it all out loud.”
“Really?” You ask, tilting your head a bit.
“Mhm.” He hums, “I mean, it wasn’t easy to explain, sorry for stuttering so much by the way, but I’m still glad it’s all out now.”
A wider smile spread across your face and despite the tragic story just heard you’re thankful, “Thank you for opening up to me.”
“Thank you for letting me,” Choso replies.
The two of you look at one another. It’s a long gaze, a connecting gaze, a telling one. Sounds of rain hitting the car are heard but it’s all a blur as you both simply take in one another.
That was until you utter his name, “Choso.”
“Yes?” He whispers, his voice slipping out so small as if the next thing you say could make or break him.
Your hand reaches over and his eyes drop to it for a moment as it goes to his face and you shift in your seat so that both of your hands can cup his cheeks in your palms. Choso blinks, wondering what exactly you are doing until you pull him close and lean in.
When close enough, you stare right into his eyes and carefully speak, “In case you haven’t been told enough,” You start, “And, in case you don’t know, you didn’t deserve any of that.”
He nods, “I know-“
“You deserve love, Choso.” You claim.
He swallows hard, worried about where this is going.
A sigh slips past your lips, “And I’m not a perfect person but…”
Choso’s brows raise, “But…?”
“Uh, I don’t know if I can give that to you.” You warn.
He couldn’t believe what you just said, “What?”
“In the way you deserve.” You quickly clarify, “I can love you Choso b-but I’m no better than-“
“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.” Choso cuts off, “Whatever love you want to give me I’ll take it happily.”
Now you’re nervous and almost insecure given what you know and have done, “What if it’s not enough?”
“We’ll make it enough.” He argues.
You frown, “Choso…”
“I’m serious. I’ve explained myself to you already, I hope it’s understandable that any love you give me I’ll take and cherish for as long as you’ll let me.”
“But you could find so much better-, so much more.”
“I don’t wanna search anymore,” He hums, “And what better is there for me to find? What’s more than you?” 
Your brows pinch together, “Someone who can love you better than me-“
“That person doesn’t exist.”
“Yes they do-“
“Well, I don’t want them.” Choso cuts off. Nothing you say will change his mind.
You roll your eyes, “You need to raise your standards.”
“Why?” He almost smiles, “My standard is you.”
You scoff, “My point exactly-“
Just as quickly as he nearly smiled, he got serious again, “You make me happy and feel like I’m wanted. What more could I ask for?”
“Certainty.” You tell him.
“We’re certain now, aren’t we?”
“I-I don’t know.”
Choso tilts his head at you, “You said earlier that you thought about changing what we are…”
“I know but then everything came out and-“
“And nothing changed.” He interprets, “My feelings for you didn’t change.”
The way he won’t hear your warnings makes you nervous all over again, “Well let me get the rest of the truth out and see if it does.”
“It won’t.”
Sighing, “You don’t know that.” You say.
“I’m telling you, it won’t.” Choso refutes.
“Choso-“
“Baby you could kill someone and I’d still love you.” He claims dramatically.
You blink repetitively, “I-“
His eyes close for a moment as he takes in what he just said, “I know that sounds crazy but, I’m serious.”
It’s hard to wrap your head around but you try, “Why?”
“Because I can’t get rid of it,” Choso explains vaguely.
“Rid of what?”
“These feelings I hold for you.” The way he clarifies everything after a simple question is so refreshing for you, “They don’t go away. No matter how angry or unsure I am, it’s always there. Even when I left you, I wanted to come back because I still loved you.”
“Choso, this is-“
“I told you I’m good at waiting. If the truth from you is poison then let me intoxicate myself. Let me feel the pain that is loving you if that’s what it is.”
“Y-You really need someone better-“
“Why?” Choso isn’t getting it in the slightest and he does not plan to, “Are you not perfect for me?”
“No, I’m not.” You explain.
“I think you are.” He shrugs.
“You’re delusional.”
“Very.”
Yeah, there’s no getting through to this man. He’s in love with you and hopelessly blinded by it too. Thank god you’re not some manipulative bitch because it’d be disastrous for this man if you were.
Choso then moves to comfort himself in his seat again and you do too. “Anyway,” Choso says, “Now that I’ve explained myself…”
You swallow this thick lump of nerves in your throat.
“Can I ask you the first question I have?” He requests.
“Of course.”
“How many?” Choso questions vaguely.
“How many, what…?”
“Guys,” He glances at you, “How many guys have you slept with since knowing me?”
Yep.
You’re fucked.
It was only the first question and you already didn’t want to answer.
But, he deserves to know right? 
Choso deserves to know…
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GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮
GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮
TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢
KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮
ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮
ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???
NANAMI KENTO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙
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mlist || previous chapt || next chpt
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tags;
@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx
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lovelyverosika · 3 months
Text
The winner takes it all…the loser has to fall
Hazbin Hotel! Adam x Fem!reader
Part 2 —> Part 1
Warnings: suicide & death
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A/N: I wanted to say thank you for all the love on my first fanfic<3 Tbh I never planned a part two since I didn’t expect people to actually enjoy it and I lack of motivation but the support changed it. Also I finished it earlier than expected :) As before I’m sorry for any grammar mistakes. I hope you enjoy it!
3rd POV
All eyes on her, that was the situation she found herself in now. Under normal circumstances she would feel extremely happy. Getting noticed and seen has always been her dream but this was more a nightmare than a dream. Looks of confusion and hatred hit her as soon as she looked around. Humiliation was what she was feeling right now, a feeling she knew very well.
She didn’t even dare to look behind her, scared to face her husband and his reaction but she could feel Lutes stare full of hatred piercing through her body as if she was a sinner on Extermination day. Ironic isn’t it? Back then in hell this day filled her with pure despair. All that blood and screams made her cry every year. Y/N hated her days in hell even more than her days when she was alive. She got out of her trance as she heard Monika laughing from above her. As she looked up she found herself in a familiar situation:
Kneeling on the floor with tears streaming down her cheeks while someone looked down at her. Monika snipped with her fingers,making a picture of Y/N appear. Instead of the optimistic angel shining with happiness everyone could see a demon full of tiredness and sadness in her eyes. "You might wonder how I found out..well for those who knew her from her living days it isn’t rocket science that she killed herself. And we all know suicide is a sin.", Monika laughed as she looks down at Y/N and then at the other angels ,which whisper to each other in the courtroom. Y/N didn’t even noticed that Emily was hugging her,she was too lost in her own mind.
-Flashback-
Y/N was someone people would call a "trophy child", polite,smart and full of happiness,that changed as soon as she hit puberty. She started seeing imperfections she never noticed before, things she loved got boring and her grades were falling. In other words she burned out and lost motivation for basically everything. The only thing she didn’t gave up was dancing, for years she worked really hard for her dream to come true. She wanted to be a star, who can make people happy with her performances and be admired.
At the age of 21 she was faced with the fact that hard work is nothing compared to natural talent. The first time in 6 years she was supposed to be the main star of the show. But that would’ve been too good to be true. On the day of her performance they told her, they founded someone better…a natural talented girl named Monika. She was beautiful like a swan but her personality was rotten..wasted potential in Y/N’s eyes.
"Not everyone is born to be a star.", Monika said while looking down at the woman, who kneeled before her obviously crying. Blinded by rage and envy Y/N interrupted Monikas show,dancing with elegance and grace while Monika acted as if it’s supposed to be happen.
Y/N smiled at the audience as she continued to dance,. "Thank you all so much for your support but I am afraid that was my last show", she spoke as tears run down her cheeks. She thought about it often..just quitting everything including her life. She’s been working so hard her whole life for nothing. It was no secret that she had a fragil heart, being sensitive made her life twice as hard as it was. She couldn’t take it anymore, so she threw the axe she hid into the air right above her. She wanted to leave with an impact no one will forget. Her last words were "Thank you" as the axe hits her as she bowed.
Everyone was shocked especially Monika who stood next to her now lifeless body. Tragic isn’t it? But at least she had the impact she wanted happening,right? She was now know as "The dying swan".
It was too late when she realised that suicide wasn’t and never be the solution and that she wasted her previous life.
With her soul tainted by envy and sin she found herself now in Hell, a place ten times worse than earth.
It was hard but she survived, she found friends who shared a similar fate. Together they helped demons in need for 3 years. On the 4th yearly extermination everything changed. Y/N loved her friends dearly, so seeing one of her friends nearly getting killed by an angel made her act without thinking. Wanting her friend to live she threw herself in front of them. It was painful as the spear pierced right through her heart but it was worth it, after all she protected her friend, didn’t she?
With a smile on her face she made peace with the fact that she’ll die for a second time. What she didn’t expect was that she found herself waking up again, this time in heaven.
It wasn’t long until she befriended a seraphim called Emily, she was such a bundle of joy, which made Y/N feel better in no time.
How she caught the eye of the first man on earth and soul in heaven was a mystery to her but what she knew was that she despised him. He was cocky, rude and so full of himself and the sugar on the cream were the nicknames he gave her…"mini tits" and "sugar tits".
Because of their work they spent more time together and got to know each other. She got used to his antics and behaviour and started to enjoy his company, compared to others he was very nice and respectful to her. It wasn’t long until she fell in love with him. She realised it for the first time when he was actually starting to respect women in general. Respect for women was very important to her and seeing people change for the better out of their own will was something she cherished.
One year later, they started dating and Adam was surprisingly loyal and clingy,she didn’t mind it one bit. He brought light into her small and pathetic life and she cleansed him like a waterfall. All her anger, sadness disappeared while he was not used to all this love. Everyone in heaven knew they were totally smitten with each other. After another year she married him and they lived a happy life in heaven until now.
-Flashback ends-
Y/N buried her head onto Emily’s chest, not wanting to be seen in such a state. Everything was blurry and the voices muffled, all she could hear was her own heart beat loud and clear.
Adam didn’t know what to feel, his wife used to be a demon. Was he supposed to be angry, sad or disappointed, he didn’t know. She promised him to stay with him forever, she promised not to leave him like Lilith and Eve did. He knew that weren’t sweet lies, she was the first one to actually accept him as a whole, so why shouldn’t he accept her either. Sinner or not she was still his sweet and loving wife. The last thing Y/N saw before fainting was Adam standing in front of Monika.
Part 3
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dumbseee · 4 months
Text
thunder and lightning.
in which, you and jude broke up after a long relationship and you perform the song you wrote for him, in front of him at the ballon d’or ceremony.
jude bellingham x singer!reader.
fc: madison beer.
note: please read this and listen to "thunder and lightning" by serayah. / might turn this into a small serie 🤭
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liked by bellahadid, tatemcrae, sabrinacarpenter and 1 829 000 others.
y/n: my most precious and raw song "thunder and lightning" is now yours 🤍 now it’s time to grow and move on.
_
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_
you were standing in the middle of this big stage. in front of these important people, some of them used to be people you’d hang out with. but breaking up with jude meant saying goodbye to them too, even if it was hard since you made good friendships thanks to your ex. it was too hard to keep contact with them without jude haunting your thoughts, and they understood that. your break up with jude occured a few months ago now, and you thought you were doing better, but being on this stage, about to perform the song you wrote in one hour, the day he broke up with you, sent shivers all over your body. and you even considered running away.
but you were stronger than before, you worked hard on this song and you needed jude to hear it. you looked absolutely stunning in this dress, you tried to put a smile on your face but only pain and anxiety could be seen. you saw all these people looking at you, some with adoration, others with envy and some with sadness because they knew how hurt you were. thunder and lightning started and you closed your eyes before taking a deep breath. you got this.
"can't you look at me and see that i love ya? and i’d do anything for ya?" you began, looking at the crowd but your eyes immediately found his. you almost stutter on the lyrics but immediately closed your eyes to refocus. his eyes were glowing and his face was torn with concern and almost regret. ha, too late for that boy. "and i’ll do anything for ya, climb up mount everest without a rope, dive into the bermuda without a boat." because it was true, you could do anything for this boy, anything and everything without thinking it twice. you loved him with your whole soul, it was insane. you could’ve quit music if he asked, and that without a second thought because that’s how loyal and in love you were.
"like thunder and lightning, we were meant to be, wrapped up inside your arms, that's right where i belong." you hit the hook with more vulnerability in your voice, it resonated in the whole room and inside people’s heart. you knew some people in the audience would relate to your situation, girlfriends of footballers who suffered the disrespect of their partner. or even footballers themselves having their heart broken by women who never actually loved them. this song wasn’t just about you and jude, it was about this feeling of despair when you see the person you love, leaving you heartbroken and alone. you saw some old friends bobbing their heads to your song and even sending smiles and thumbs ups to you.
you soon end the song, for a minute the room is frozen in silence, no one moves. and the one to break the ice was jude, he got up and clapped you like no one ever clapped for you. soon enough the whole room followed, giving you a standing ovation. you felt your eyes getting watery as you locked eyes with jude, his expression was unreadable. you were the one to break the eye contact as you bowed to the audience and blowed a kiss to the camera. you left the stage and almost ran backstage to let the tears you kept inside since the beginning of the performance, run down your cheeks. you let yourself fall to the ground, your agent and friend hugged you from behind and kissed the top of your head. "let’s go home now." you whispered between a sob.
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liked by trentarnold66, vinijr, rodrygogoes and 3 729 028 others.
judebellingham: such an honour to win these trophies. making my parents proud and being a good role model for my brother has always been my top priority, thank you for the support and thank you for always being by my side.
_
fan1: CONGRATS KING
fan2: deserved so much more but i’m so happy for him
fan3: making the parents proud >>
fan4: the fact that y/n was there too and probably congratulated him :(
fan5: lmao nah she probably left after the performance, she hates his ass now
fan6: as she should tbh
fan7: y/n deserved way better
vinijr: 🔥🔥🔥
philfoden: congrats mate! keep shinning 💪🏼
fan8: i’m a huge fan but you should be held accountable for how you treated y/n
fan9: DON’T LISTEN TO THE HATERS KING
fan10: the future of football is right there
fan11: keep showing them who’s the boss jude!
fan12: he looked so good tho 🥴
fan13: finally a stylist who does him justice
deuxmoi: hm, being a good role model right? then care to explain why a little bird came to us with receipts about the night she had with you, while you were dating y/n?
fan14: WTF
fan15: WTFFFABSKSKSLDDD WHAT IS THIS
fan16: nah they must be lying jude would NEVER cheat
fan17: deuxmoi isn’t even a reliable source!
fan18: yeah but apparently they got receipts so…
view all comment.
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y/n just posted a story!
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caption: couldn’t relate more.
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Text
Comfort [Yandere!Chain + Isekai!Reader]
You're part of the family now, and everything that entails.
I have fallen deeper into the abyss. Just exploring the new, untested dynamics of this latest indulgence. It's a hot mess, so be warned before you read.
Masterlist
Sky Route
Four Route
TW: Yandere nonesense. Be warned.
Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.
---
Meeting the Chain had seemed like a dream come true at first. Of course, there had been the pain and disorientation of being ripped from everything you knew without warning, but meeting the boys and procuring thier promise for aid had calmed you significantly.
So, rather than despairing and falling into the throes of depression, you instead set your mind to learning of the world around you. And of course, you spent a lot of that time observing the boys and their behaviors (curious as to what so many fans had gotten right or wrong).
You wished you hadn't. You wished you'd kept to yourself. Ignored their very existences and just stayed focused on getting home. Wished you'd never been found by them.
You wish you'd set boundries sooner. If you had, maybe none of this would be happening. Maybe you'd be free.
"Hey. It's going to be okay." Twilight whispered softly from behind you, voice low and sorrowful as his large, warm hand pet you carefully upon the back. As though that would somehow bring you comfort after what he did.
You couldn't face him. You refused to meet any of their eyes. The bandages on your back burned against your torn skin where Hyrule had been prevented from properly healing you.
'A reminder', Wars had said, eyes cold and unforgiving, and Time had stayed quiet, only offering your cowering form a disappointed frown. Hyrule had wailed and snarled at the thought of leaving you in pain, but Legend had quieted him with soothing whispers (though he himself looked borderline rebellious too).
Wind had grit his teeth, eyes blazing hellfire, and looked ready to tell Wars off for that, but Time had placed a gentle hand on his head and given him a sad, rueful smile. To which Wind had huffed but remained silent, but not before casting (Big Brother) Wars a look that promised many unfortunate incidents in the near future.
Twilight had continued to hold you upright as your punishment was handed down. Calloused fingers caressing lightly, possessively, over the still bleeding wounds along your torn back. You swear you saw pride in his face as the verdict was decided that since he caught you, until you recovered you'd be his responsibility.
At the memory of that smug glint in his eyes, you curled further away from his soft, comforting (frightening, blood-chilling) touch, and he pulled back obligingly. A heartbroken sigh left his lips, torn so raw at the seams it almost broke your resolve to ignore him right then. Until you reminded yourself of what he (what they) were capable of despite their sweet, adoring smiles and soft attentions.
Twilight had been so damned gentle with you since that night, relieved and apologetic both. And terribly guilty. Nothing like the feral beast that had chased you down without regard for your fear or wellbeing. Took you down like thrashing, wailing, vulnerable prey when you bolted for the bright, shining portal that whispered home, comfort, safety (and freedom) that had appeared so suddenly.
Nothing like the monster that had torn into the back of your shirt (and flesh) with savage teeth, snarling and growling, ripping you away from salvation with punishing strength. Desperate, predatory eyes shining like death in the portal light, the hairs lining his powerful back standing on end and lost to the shadows that clung to his massive form.
Nothing like the man who had come after, large, burning, painfully tight hand shackled around your wrist. Cruelly dragging you on your knees from escape, shadowed eyes glowing unnatural, eerie blue in the dim light of a waning moon. No different from the creature that had drawn blood upon your defenseless skin, merely wearing a more familiar face.
And the way he had stared upon you once the light of promised safety had faded entirely. Eyes dark and bright and sharp with the threat of violence. Of sanity lost. Watching down at your whimpering, shivering, pain-racked form with quiet possession, dark promise.
The moment for escape had been so perfect, that night. You had finally managed to convince Wild to give you a moment of privacy. Convinced Time that you just wanted an hour of peace from Red's needy whines and Hyrule's obsessive tending. Managed to distract Warrior's keen eyes with a word of praise in Wind's ear and the promise of stories from your homeland. Sidestepped Sky's soft, curious eyes as you walked passed.
You had been alone. For the first time in three months. And it had been liberating.
And then the portal had appeared, and you hadn't thought of anything else after that. Not of consequences. Not of the Chain's anger or the darkness that hid behind soft, adorning gazes. And not of the way their eyes watched you always.
Not of the eyes on you even then. For you had forgotten that you are never truly alone. Not until you were reminded.
Not until that first, bone chilling howl of rage.
"We should move them closer to the fire." Came Hyrule's concerned voice, hovering just on the other side of Twilight (he must have escaped Legend's clutches. the man had been keeping Hyrule under strict supervision after The Incident). "They may be cold from blood loss."
Before Twilight could reassure his obsessively worried brother (once again) that all was well and that you were just upset, Four spoke up. Sounding just as ragged and agitated as you felt. "The Incident was three days ago. There was never issues with blood loss to begin with." He sounded done, tired. Pissed even.
You didn't doubt it. After the chaos that had ensued that night, it was decided (by Green and Vio and reluctantly Red) that merging was the most viable option to ensure a safe (quiet) and stress free environment for you to recover in.
Blue had come to blows with Twilight three times before the night had even ended after The Incident (he'd fought Legend twice. had only been prevented from triggering the sociopath that is Wars by Time's intervention). Red have been crying nonstop since you were first carried back to camp by a shame-faced Twilight. Green was running damage control to keep Wars from challenging Twilight for rights to safekeep you. And Vio had dutifully sacrificed his body to cuddles, forehead kisses and soft (distressed) cooing to placate the ticking time bomb that was Sky's protective instincts.
You almost pitied the small smith. Until you remembered how Blue had wanted to take your legs, and Vio had gotten a calculated glint in his eyes. And then you didn't feel bad for him anymore, even with the memory of Red sobbing his eyes out and Green talking Blue down before Wild got it in his head to put himself (and thus Twilight) between the Colors and you protectively.
At some point during Twilight's, Four's and Hyrule's discussion (argument) Wild had arrived with his characteristic brashness. Breezing past all of them, as usual, and putting himself squarely into your space. And Twilight let him, because Wild was one of his, and now (for the time being) so were you.
The scarred man took you in his arms (so easily, as though you weighed nothing at all), careful not to touch the tender wounds on your back, and made his way towards Sky. Hyrule made to protest, but by the low familiar hum of expectancy that sounded out, it looked like Legend had finally caught up to his wayward (stupidly determined to play mother cucco) charge.
You ignored them after that, but not before catching a glimpse of Four apologetically carding a hand through Legend's feather soft hair, cupping his vulnerable nape with tender care. Small, forge roughened fingers gripping lovingly as he whispered heartfelt apologies, eyes flashing red and speckled green and even blue at the edges. Witnessed how Legend melted under the touch, and how Hyrule had leaned into Legend's side with equal affection (and desperation for comfort. attention).
You wished you hadn't seen it. So you wouldn't have to remember the good that resided within these men, as well as the bad. About how much these men truly loved each other, and you, despite all the hurt they put you through that night.
Quiet sobbing caught your attention, and Sky was before you suddenly, though he was not the one making such heartbroken sounds. You had been lost in your head and hadn't even noticed how Wild had kissed into your hair in relief. Shedding tears of gratefulness that you hadn't screamed and thrashed at his touch (like that first night he tried to give comfort. before he sacrificed himself to Sky's doting).
Wild went to his knees before the sleeping Skyloft knight (crying silently in fitful slumber) and whispered warmly through soft sniffles. "Sky. They're right here, safe. See." He gently placed you down beside the tearfully sleeping man, and you let him. Too tired and overwhelmed by your own emotions to fight.
And too fearful. Because Sky was an enigma. Seemingly the most docile of all the boys, even Red and Hyrule, and yet Time, Wars and Vio all catered to him with due diligence (the three who knew the most, and controlled the most). Conceded to his every demand when it was made (rare as they were) and sacrificed any whom Sky called to for comfort and reassurance. Including themselves.
Claims did not matter when Sky wanted to hold you through the night. If Sky wanted to cuddle Wind, Wars would have to concede (even if it took Time and Green's combined efforts to keep him subdued). If he desired to brush Wild's hair into traditional skyloftian braids or spoon feed Hyrule sweet pumpkin soup like an infant, Twilight and Legend were made to step aside. If Sky wanted Time to sit beside him and speak of their beloveds, then it would be so. Even if it meant setting up camp early for the night. Even if it meant Blue, Legend and Wars bitched for hours afterwards (amongst themselves, of course).
In the eyes of the Chain, Sky was an outlier to the established hierarchy, and you had a feeling you knew why. You remembered the first time you felt the fear of wrongness amongst the men you called your friends (family). The moment of clarity.
You'd never forget the smell of smoke and iron reek hanging thick in the air, fanning out across the wasteland that was Hyrule's homeland. The blank and distant looks in the heroes' eyes as they emerged from the treeline. And Sky, covered in red, red, red. Like an ocean sunset dripping into calm waters. Like fresh berry juice between overzealous fingers.
He'd been crying then.
Sky rarely cries.
Sky had called for Hyrule for days after. Had kept him by his side as they walked and slept and ate. Had babied and coddled and smothered him with fierce devotion. And the chain had let him. Kept Legend and Twilight in check. Kept Blue forcibly subdued when Red riled him into a protective fury over his most vulnerable, sensitive brother's pitiful, longing tears for his Rulie.
So, when Wild had set you beside Sky, you remained quiet. Because you were afraid. And because you owed WIld.
Because when Sky called for you that night (still raw and shaking), Wild had straightened his back, looked Time in the eye and told him that you needed space. And then had given himself over to Sky's obsessive coddling, enduring the man's frantic petting and overbearing smothering.
For three days. After Vio had been merged back into Four. Wild had endured the babying for three days. Wild, the man who may have hated being tied down more than anyone else in the Chain.
You owed him, and if he thought time was up for your sulking. Well, there was nothing you could do. Especially not when Sky was in tears (dangerous, unstable).
The moment you were pressed into Sky's side, he immediately latched onto you (you were saved from pain only by Wild's arm sheltering your back), reddened eyes opening to reveal a tearful, shattered, truly unhinged gaze. "Your came. You tried to leave us." He sobbed, burying his sleepy, splotchy face into your neck. His hands (so strong, enough to crush your windpipe if he wanted) gripping into the fabric of your shirt like a child seeking comfort. "I thought you hated me."
You wanted to snap that of course you hated him. That you hated them all for forcing you to stay here when home had been so close. Right there, you could feel it. You wanted to scream that you despised them for being silently complicit with your captivity, even if they weren't always the ones to physically hold you down.
You wanted to do a lot of things. Rage. Cry. Break something. Find words, accusations, demands, anything to make them understand the depths of your hurt and betrayal. To see how much they had taken from you.
And yet, frustratingly, you couldn't. The fight had been sucked right out of you at the sight of Sky's hurt, his soul-deep suffering. Because you loved these boys still, despite all the horribly broken affections they saw fit to shower upon you and each other. Genuine, but ultimately flawed and damaged (and damaging).
With Wild snuggling in from behind to sniff your hair contently (the creep), and a glimpse of Wind hovering longingly at the sidelines, unsure of his welcome. You felt your resolve breaking ever further.
In the firelight, Time leaned down to kiss Wars along the temple, ruffling his fluffy (beautiful) hair before retreating towards Twilight. He gathered the saddened, guilt ridden man in his arms and laid them both down for sleep, speaking soft reassurances into his descendant's dark hair. Warm, paternal smile on his lips.
Closest to the fire pit, Legend and Hyrule had Four trapped between them, Four resting his head peacefully on Legend's shoulder, and Hyrule sandwiching him from the back. Legend's arm draped over Four's small form to rest his hand possessively (protectively) on Hyrule's waist.
Warriors watched over this all with sharp, but quietly adoring, eyes. Scanning over you and the others around you with just as much of that overwhelmingly intense (too intense) devotion. Ensuring all was well and safe under his domain, before turning away to ensure nothing came from outside to disturb his peacefully resting family. Shield at his side and sword on his back. Loyalty corded into every line of his lithe form.
Wind had shuffled closer. Big (wondrously big) blue eyes locked on you and waiting. Wild's hand was on your hip, resting as he too waited patiently. Content to let you speak in your own time.
Sky's love stricken, adoring, grieving eyes locked with yours. Searching, waiting. A blade ready to drop across his heart and everything in it as the slightest of provocation.
And you broke. Because what else could you do.
"I don't hate you, Sky. I'm just so angry." You forced out, bitter for the truth of those words. "I just need time to forgive and heal."
Those shattered eyes lightened, the ragged edges softened, and suddenly you were looking at Sky again. Tender-hearted, fiercely protective but forever hopeful Sky. The Sky you trusted still with your life, for all you feared the zealous protectiveness that cast a very long shadow across his path.
"I understand. Twilight was so rough with you, and Warriors so harsh with your punishment." He said, and Wild huffed in agreement behind you. "It's only natural you'd want to return home. So they should have been more understanding of your feelings."
Wind, now at Wild's back, was on his knees with hands on Wild's waist as he leaned forward. "I'll put rocks in their boots every day 'til they say they're sorry! The small ones ya don't feel 'til it's too late!" He vowed, and you didn't doubt that. You'd seen Wars wincing and Twilight limping for a few days now, and now you knew why.
Your heart lightened, for all it felt shackled and confused and broken too. "Thank you guys." And you meant it.
As strange as it seemed. You really did mean every word of it. Truly and wholely.
Maybe you were a little broken too, after all. And as Wind settled behind your back, helped by Wild so he didn't agitate your injuries (he placed a gentle kiss on the bandages, so light you nearly missed it), you found you almost didn't mind.
Things were always complicated with family, after all.
---
Off I go. Back to the shadows to rest this one off.
194 notes · View notes
vex91 · 1 month
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Ahn Yujin - I don't want to lose you
Pairing: Ahn Yujin x Female Reader (Apocalypse AU)
Fandom: IZ*ONE / IVE
Requested by: Anonymous
Request: STOP I HAVE A NEW IDEA!!! ‼️‼️
All of us are dead Yujin AU 🧎‍♀️
i literally just remembered that she has a advertisement for it i think im not sure tho but you got the idea.🥰🥰
- 🌙
Summary: When the apocalypse struck you get stuck with your friends at school full of zombies. In the middle of that Yujin finds a moment to comfort you.
Warning(s): Blood, Mentions of deaths and zombies basically
A/N: I'm all for any Yujin ideas 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️
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3rd's POV
Everyone was dead.
How did everything became so bad? One second you all were going through your day like normal at school, waiting for the day to be over so you could go and hang out with your friends and the second you were running away from people you used to pass by, now trying to eat you. Truthfully you would have been dead a long time ago if it wasn't for Yujin being by your side.
Yujin was a true blessing in your life. She stuck by you through everything, always so ready to help you with anything or to save you from anyone. Even now she didn't hesitate for a second to jump in front of you and save your life. She hit the zombie with her backpack before pulling you in another direction. She dragged you through the hallways but your mind was a blur. You watched everything unfolding, the teachers that were supposed to help you all were hiding while the students were dying everywhere.
Tears welled up in your eyes as the true fear finally struck you, Yujin didn't noticed anything until you both hid in some empty room. She started mumbling and thinking of what to do but she stopped talking when she noticed your teary eyes and red face. She hated seeing you like that and never wanted to see you like that again.
Right then while holding you she promised to protect you with her life no matter what.
She continued keeping that promised and stuck by your side like a glue, it was hard to find you without Yujin somewhere around you. She thought she managed to support you despite the obvious despair hanging around the world but she was proved wrong one night.
Yujin woke up in the middle of the night due to some sound, you all already had a few zombies managing to get in so she was very alerted to that sounds. Seeing a bat laying close by she took it and started looking around, trying not to wake anyone up. That's when she noticed you in another room, curled up against the wall hugging your knees. Your face was hidden in your knees but it was obvious you were crying.
Her heart ache, she felt like she failed you. Failed to be there for you and help you.
"Y/N?" You looked up surprised, despite the quiet tone she called you, you still got startled - one of the habits you get when you get used to everyone around you trying to be quiet to survive. She noticed the redness around your eyes, another proof of her failure.
"I'm sorry" She mumbled quietly, her body sliding down the wall next to you. You studied her expression, full of guilt and regret "Why are you sorry?" Yujin looked at the floor, silence was suffocating to the both of you and you hated that. You hated the life you all had to live right now.
"I'm sorry I wasn't able to be there for you lately, you're sad because I failed to keep my promise" Tears welled up in her eyes as she couldn't look at you. Soon she felt you sneaking your hand and intertwined your fingers together. Slowly she looked up and saw you smiling sadly at her "It's not your fault, you've been busy making sure we're all alive, I should be the one feeling sorry for not doing much to help you... things just have been... hard" A tear slide down your cheek and Yujin quickly wiped it with her thumb.
"We've lost so many people... I'm scared we'll lose more before any help comes. I... don't want to lose you too" You whispered sadly and Yujin's heart speed up. Her thumb caressed your cheek as she looked at you gently "You won't lose me" You shook your head "You can't guarantee tha-" Yujin quickly cut you off.
"I can't but I can promise you that I will do anything to make sure both of us are safe so that you won't lose me" She watched as you quietly broke down and pulled you into a hug, her arms keeping you close so you could feel her warmth and hear her heartbeat.
"I'll make sure you won't lose me... I'll never leave you alone"
And this promise she was gonna keep no matter what.
151 notes · View notes
blueparadis · 7 months
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╰┈➤ MASTERMIND ✦ NANAMI KENTO.
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⟣ ──┈ · · · + synopsis ➢ Nanami decides to pay you a visit on such an auspicious day to congratulate you but fate had other plans for him.
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⟣ ──┈ · · · + cw ➣ fem!reader x (morally grey but ultra-soft)!nanami kento, canon+ fix it au, manga spoilers, mention of clan head!gojo, secret relationship b/w reader and nanami, mutual pinning, angst, scar worship, friends with benefits dynamic, s&d dynamic, mention of orgasm denial, orgasm control, love-hate séx (make-up séx ig) + unprotected, baby trapping. 2,6 k word count. half-based on this thought ( + I've a lot of hcs about gojo clan; one of them being that satoru had a half-sister whom he found accidentally while on a mission, so i used that here. ) | blog navigation + koct’23 masterlist. |
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Nanami walks through the porch of the Gojo estate while taking a call. It has been half a month since the grim reaper graced him with a peck on his cheek showing him a glimpse of the afterlife. He has been facing trouble adjusting back to his old life again despite healing himself through the reverse cursed technique. He has left behind the life of being a jujutsu socerer but partly. Besides, he now works as an advisor for all jujutsu socerers who are gradually making their way to earn their ranks yet deep down, a part of him wants to tell how bold farced lie is all this is.
But something is still holding him back, and deep down he is vividly aware that he wants to grow his roots rather than uproot them. He is just unwilling to admit it out loud. Nanami is still unable to untie his attachment towards a certain girl who is also best suited to be the head of the gojo clan, as per the strongest’s opinion, y/n gojo. He still remembers the night he spent in that cheap motel with you, talking and drinking, drinking and touching, touching and kissing; making promises to you while being inside you. He does not regret it per se, he is afraid for those wishes to come true. There is too much at stake.
When he got the invitation to the ceremonial celebration for you being bestowed with the title and authority to act as a clan head by Satoru’s side he did not know why he could not refuse or not bother to turn up. Maybe he needed an excuse to apologize at length for not being in touch with you. Maybe you would not be so angry if you knew death was knocking at his door but he had to come back, he had to make it through the tunnel to see you, to embrace, to kiss you, for one last night time.
With such thoughts clouding his mind, the sound of sliding a door almost did not reach his ears yet strangely, he turns back only to find none other than you. Standing five feet away from you, in his Yukata he looks more handsome than before, especially with those scars on his face. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll call you back.” With each fall of his words, his eyes move from head to toe. You are still not ready for the ceremony yet. Wearing a plain hakama, hair braided, a few loose strands kissing your jawline, and a mole near the corner of your lip that just unlocked the memories of that night.
“Nanami-san. . .” you murmur and bite your trembling lips. Tears threaten to flood your cheeks as you take a few steps towards him. He immediately backs away averting his gaze. But you can see him, his guilt, his silent sea of sadness. Nanami Kento is now nothing but a tapestry of quiet despair. A tug on one loose end of a thread and it will all come crashing down.
“Hey...” he states as soon as he realizes the gravity of his action but it is too late now. You have already turned around, started to stroll inside the room, and prepared to slide the door. Clicking his tongue he follows you but does not enter just stands on the other side of the wooden bar separating your room and the porch. His shadow is covering your whole body. He can only see your back, so he does not look up, just stills his eyes on the ground. “Congratulations on your succession —” His voice trails off as your haori drops on the floor.
“What’re you doing?” He raises his voice perking his eyes up at you. You turn your head slightly in his way and he notices bruises around your neck. Suddenly he can feel every bead of perspiration running down his spine. Have you been fucking other men while he was away? He has been wrecking his mind day and night thinking about how to let you down lightly, how to end this relationship without hurting you, what to say, and what not to say so that you can just move on with your life but meanwhile, but you have been seeing other men. How vile! How insulting!
“Why are you still here, Nanami-san?” You turn around without averting your eyes from him.
Nanami enters the room without a second thought closing it behind. “Is it what I think it is ?” He enquires curtly.
“I don't know. You tell me,” You murmur pulling up the sleeves of your nagagi, “what you are thinking. . .” There are certain wounds all the way up your neck in a particular pattern as if someone carved them on you. He does not budge. His brain cells do not finish the path of such thoughts.
Watching his contorted face you let out a disappointed sigh,“Yes. The answer is yes. I went through the ritual.” Nanami swallows, his eyes unable to avert from your body. He wants to see those marks, see each scar, and kiss them. That would be very unethical, wouldn’t it? “If tooru-ni would have been here he wouldn’t have let me go through it.” You walk away towards the window finishing that line of thought, “But I can’t always rely on him. Can I now?” 
Okay, that’s good. You have made half of his confusion clear. What about the bruise on your neck? With long strides, he closes the gap between you two. His strong muscular toned arms curled around your waist before his lips aligned with yours. “have you been seeing other men?” He rasps against your mouth. Your hand rests on his firm chest. It is possible actually, since you are going to be appointed as a supportive clan head, marriage proposals are going to lurk like wild animals amongst the shadows of celebration, especially Zenin Clan. They do not let any cursed energy bearer getaway.
“Why? Would that make you jealous?”
“Yes. definitely.” You can not help but ket out a short-lived simper that not only makes Nanami’s throat dry but also fills his bones with your pesky ignorant attitude. It makes him wanna loathe you. He lifts you a little yanking you by the window side, caging you between the wall and him. He has not let go of his hand from your waist and his other hand rests on the concrete. You look at him with eyes full of longing and lust. You know this is wrong, this whole thing of meeting him here, seeing him before the ceremony. It is wrong in so many ways. Your fisted hands unfurl. You could feel his heart rate being faster now. 
“Can’t we just run away?” you murmur so low and so meek that Nanami thinks he might just hear it wrong. Suppose he did run away with you. What then? People from the Gojo clan is going to hunt him until the end of time. He always has to run away and hide, like a coward.
“That wouldn’t be appropriate,” 
Another chuckle. “Yeah? Then, what’s appropriate? Are you telling me this isn’t inappropriate? you and me, locked in a room, so close to each other. anyone might think we are— 
“Then, let’s make their suspicion into something real,” He breathes against your mouth. There is just a thread of gap between his lip and yours before he opens his mouth with a ‘pop’ and you feel his warm, wet tongue along the column of your throat that makes you shut your eyes instantly, tears rolling down along your cheeks for holding back for so long, for waiting for him so long. Your arms slide along his shoulders slowly as he explores your neck and chest with his mouth making you almost melt in his arms. 
“No. No. No. No. we can’t be doing this again,” He moves away from you shaking his head so much, his breathing labored and irregular. There is that look in your eyes, that sad look of having to fight all alone with no one by your side, that look that has so much sincerity and loyalty underneath. 
“But Nanami-san, I’m not seeing anyone.” You mutter inhaling deeply feeling dizzy. Oh dear! Aren’t you a little too naive to be a clan head? Maybe there is no way out, day in and day out he thought about it but he could not find any. “what happened when you said you would take me to Malaysia?”
"You know we can't do that, baby." He shifts his gaze at you, rasping, "And, you know we were both just drunk and talking about what ifs...does that count? should it count?" You bite your lips looking at the robes scattered on the floor, him and yours, lifeless and entangled with each other. Nanami feels his heart constrict in his ribcage, as if someone had tied his heart with ropes and now both the free ends are being pulled like in a tug of war.
“Ahhh,” he groans. “Fuck it,”  with that he holds your face in between his big soft palms kissing your lips as long as he can. Your fingers clamp around his wrists as you feel his tongue go inside your mouth before he sucks your lips, one by one, fervently, as if you are the source of his oxygen, not the air surrounding you two. He guides your limbs around his nape breaking the kiss to breathe in before kissing down the column of your throat. 
“Take it off,” His husky whisper hot against your chest as he waits.
“But—” you try to protest making him more impatient. It is not like he does not get your point. You will have to go soon otherwise people might come searching for you. These fucking clan rules. Without any delay you let the upper wrapper cloth of your yukata fall down revealing your breasts. 
“You know, you shouldn’t be roaming around like this,” He tartly says before licking up from the base of your chest to the middle of your collarbone.
“Oh Yeah? was waiting… for you,” Nanami’s hand finds your mounds, firm and large hands massaging both of them simultaneously as he presses his hard-on against your waist. His hands now rest on your hips pulling you into his body, while his mouth peppers kisses all over your bosom. Your nipples are so taut, skin awake with goosebumps. His hands travel around your back pulling you into his embrace. Your breath hitches as his grips grow stronger while his mouth latches onto your boobs, sucking your tits and biting them making you moan shamelessly. 
Your constant tugging and fidgeting with the sash of his hakama has now paid off. It hits the grown revealing him in boxers. You take his cock out pumping, sliding the foreskin, and exposing the slick crown of his cock. Nanami grunts, taking his cock and pumping it by himself. “Look at me, look at me, baby”, he murmured while rubbing his nose against your neck, your skin glistening with sweat. He clusters your hakama around your waist and your hands hold them in place, around your stomach. He smiles at that gesture. He is impressed. 
Lifting you up by clasping around your inner things, he holds your back against the wall ready to push his cock inside you. You guide his cock at your slick entrance. As soon as the cock-head is inside he quickly scans your features. You are panting, sweating, mouth open, and eager to take him. He pushes his cock inside you with a deep strong thrust hitting your spot. His grip on your thighs becomes stronger as he starts to glide his torso, to and fro. Eyes flying back ripping off your sanity as he pushes his cock inside you as if he was not hitting the spot making you squirm underneath him.
The bridge of his nose grazes your pulse point as he groans right into your ears asking, "You good?". You stare at him through the corner of your eyes, mouth open ajar, panting rashly too sucked into delirium to form words, but you nod. Kento knows your melting point yet seeing you taking him so well, being so obedient, being so responsive his lips curve in delight. He hums weighing his thoughts about whether it is okay to pull out another orgasm from your heated overstimulated body or not since he has been fucking you nice and slow for what seems like hours. Every time you are close he diverts your attention by pausing and then putting his mouth to work, either on your lips or on your nipples.
His warm cackle reaches your ears as he jerks up towering over your body, fingers clamping underneath your inner thighs. "Oh Gawd!", you whimper earning a smirk from him. "Don't worry angel! I'm not gonna stop until you ask me to!", he declares as he thrusts his cock with a single broad stroke earning a gasp from you. Those chocolate brown eyes gleam in an insatiable hunger as he starts to move in and out, slowly, watching your cream leaking around his cock from previously denied orgasms.
"You're still clenching me so hard baby!", he utters with a chuckle slamming his cock inside you with brute force followed by a long pause and making you arch your body like a bow against the wall. It is euphoric. It is aching. It is maddening.
"So good! such sweet pussy.", he groans as he starts to thrust harder, faster folding your legs over his broad shoulders. You grab your boobs, squeezing, biting your lower lip, filling the room with trails of whimpering moans blessing his ears. With his throbbing cock still inside you he yanks you into his lap, lips never disconnecting from yours he takes you to the futon laying you down. The hakama is clustered around your waist covering your pussy but it is better this way. At least, you are not so coy-like that night.
Kento quivers, balancing himself on his arms against the futon and letting you relax your legs. "Fuck wanna cum in you already", he coos immediately crashing his lips onto yours not giving you a chance to register his momentary lapse, a desire to see you carrying his babies. Moreover, he loves the taste of your salt while sucking your puffy lips inside you. Curling your hands around his nape, fingers skimming through his hair you moan into his mouth breaking the kiss. 
His eyes blink as he feels your hands over his arms. While he is still feasting his eyes over your ravishing sex glow, you roll him along the futon without pulling out. Eyes soaked in surprise Kento is still taken aback by your strength as he gawks at your naked beauty with lust-blown eyes. “Your wish's my command, Sir”, you amend. As the words fall from your lips you start to glide, slow but steady strokes. He holds you by your waist, his lower lip being exploited in between his teeth as you bounce on his cock.
Seeing you bob like an animal, boobs bouncing at a steady rhythm he was in nowhere to decline you; after all, he wanted this too, to fill your womb with babies and those breasts with milk.“Oh yeah! Yea-ash baby!”, he mumbles as you keep jerking. He is close, you can sense it. He flinches feeling his cock twitch in pain but could not care less about it. All he wants is to fill you up to the brim. He sits up adjusting you in his lap.
“Say you hate me.” he huskily mutters.
“What?” you do not pause, just slow down.
“Say you hate me” he quips holding your waist and making you pause your movements. “Or I won’t let you cum,” When you do not believe him he quips with a smirk, “You know, I can do that, don’t you baby?” and strangely you remember how he felt you alone in the room when you made a move on him. You do not want that to happen now, absolutely not, especially with his dick inside you.
He starts to make you bob again, at this point so close to your orgasm that you do not even put up a fight. “Yes. yes. I hate you. I hate you nanami kento I hate you,” you whimper out those words as he thrusts you on his cock. Good, good, that is good; he can not have you admit those feelings out loud, just like him. Your legs quiver feeling the euphoric high approaching, marking his back with crescent indecent as he shoots his cum inside you. Warm, thick, and seeping along your thighs, soaking the sheets. He pulls out with a pop; a prideful glint smothers his face watching his marks all over your chest that run up to your pulse point on the neck. Kento shoots a look at you, your face. He maintains eye contact, puts his mouth around your nipple, and continues to suck until he feels your gummy walls clenching his cock again. “Ahhh—aH!”, you scream hands resting on his shoulders nails digging into his skin. He hates you, he hates you so very much.
Nanami hunches down a little more, kissing your temples, and before sitting upright again he whispers, “Yeah, let’s go to Malaysia. Let’s just run away, honey.”
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mayullla · 3 months
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Hi can i request 🌾+yandere+gorou fenkyew 😗
Title: Valentine's Visit
Character(s): Gorou (Genshin Impact) Summary: You liked Gorou for a while now yet when he confessed you could not say yes. Warnings/tags: Yandere themes, Gn!reader, Gorou gives you chocolate, an actual drop of blood mentioned, Soft yandere Gorou, if there are any mistakes pls tell me.
[ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]
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Gorou?" You looked at the man in front of your door, surprised. "What are you doing here? I thought you would be staying in Watatsumi Island until next month."
Gorou had been a friend that you made a while back, first meeting and then somehow bonding over what desserts you both liked. This soon changed to something a little cute as you started to like Gorou a lot. So when he confessed to you, you were surprised. Watching his face flustered red, sometimes unable to look in your eyes because of embarrassment. The moment he looked at you, you saw his determined eyes, and his words were genuine, you realized.
Yet you didn't say yes.
You watched as he froze in shock, the swirl of despair and sadness in his eyes as his ears folded, touching his head. Quickly you took his hands, unable to bear seeing him like this but also feeling a bit guilty.
You told him that you were touched by his words, and that you felt the same way. But you were unsure just yet, and just for a little while more, you wanted to get to know him more before making anything official.
Gorou looked at you as you explained your reasons. That you truly do care about him and treasure him, yet as you started to stutter a little, he held your hands tight, shaking his head and smiling at you. "Don't worry. I will wait for you."
The situation turned out all right, but at the same time, returning to what you had was essentially impossible. Both of you told each other that you do like each other more than just friends. While one side wanted to start something new, the other side wanted a little more time, even if you felt butterflies in your stomach sometimes when you looked at him.
Gorou didn't bring up the topic anymore. If anything, it almost turned back to normal, but things just never work that way. As time flowed, Gorou started to hang around you more often whenever he was able to see you. He was awkward, really, with his flirting, as he tried to move closer to you when the both of you were sitting down. His eyes just held a lot of affection towards you, and when he was caught, he would become bright red.
Sometimes it was just too difficult not to tease him a little.
"Her Excellency had given me permission to rest today," Gorou explained, his ears flopped down as his tail moved a little faster, as if nervous. "I... I just wanted to visit you today also."
You smiled at him, opening the door wider. "Why don't you come in then? I will make some tea."
"Uh- uhh... thank you!" Gorou nodded, almost bowing as his hands stayed behind his back. "I also want to give you... something."
Your back was towards him, planning on heading into the house again. As you turned back at Gorou in curiosity, facing him again, you tilted your head at the flustered boy.
It was a little bit of a surprise when he suddenly moved his hands, almost shoving something to your chest. Looking at his hand, you saw a present, a box of chocolates. "Today is Valentine's Day and I want to give this to you," he told you, his voice a little tense, almost stuttering. "T-this is not a confession or anything like that, don't worry. I just wanted to give you something as you are my... my friend!"
You looked at the present in front of you, then you looked at him. He wasn't looking at you, instead elsewhere. You could see that he had to think about it so much giving you these chocolates when the both of you decided that you would not date just yet.
Why did you say no? You do like him, that was true, so it should be easy to accept his love, and it wasn't like he did anything wrong or anybody, even you, could see how much he loved you.
Thank you," you smiled at the present. Instead of the usual red and pink that you see everywhere outside, he had chosen to go for a pastel blue box and a brownish-gold ribbon that reminded you much of the color of his hair. He raised his head and looked at you hopefully. As you smiled back at him, his smile returned to his face, happy that you liked his gift.
You knew that he wanted something more, yet you could not give it to him. There was a snake in your heart biting into your guilt. One time, you even thought that you were playing with his feelings like this, even if you didn't mean to. You were horrified at the idea that maybe you were.
Yet something was stopping you.
"Come in, you must be tired from your journey. Come in and rest for a moment, and I will make some tea." You let him into the house. This wasn't the first time you did, having let him in before in the past when you were friends.
"Thank you," he said, the smile showing his fangs, and you took a second longer staring at them before you went to the kitchen, already knowing that Gorou knew where the living room was. Making tea, the two of you went to see Gorou. You chose to sit down on the floor at the other side of the small low table, but Gorou immediately moved to the side to be closer to you.
On the table, the tea was served, and you opened the chocolates, conscious of the fact that Gorou was staring at you as you did so.
Small bon bon chocolates.
A variety of them of different kinds, ones that you thought you had talked about to him in the past that you would like to get your hands on but didn't because they were too expensive.
Your eyes widened when you realized that it was really those chocolates that you really wanted. "Gorou, aren't these from the brand that I told you about before?" You looked at him with surprise, "They must have been expensive."
Gorou blushed when your eyes met his, looking for an explanation, scratching his cheek with one finger he awkwardly laughed. "I know you always wanted them so." He mumbled. You smiled at his words, unsure of what words to say to express your thanks as guilt tried to rip your heart apart.
"Thank you so much, really." You meant it in your heart. "N-no... no problem." You wondered if Gorou could get any redder than this, wondering to yourself if his ears were also red or if it was your brain playing tricks on you.
You did a mix of a laugh and a sigh, watching. You could not help but view him with affection. Grabbing a chocolate, you took a bite of it and moaned at the taste of the rich flavor of the chocolate, humming at its taste as you ate the rest of the small bonbon chocolate.
Having an idea, you grabbed another and looked at Gorou, who continued to stare at you while you were eating, placing the chocolate right on his lips. "Here, you should eat one too!" You told him, unrelenting when he tried to decline, stating that it was all yours and that he shouldn't eat it. "Oh, come on, it is more delicious when you eat it with others, and I know that you also wanted to try them. Eat." You told him.
Looking hesitantly at the chocolate, Gorou finally closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Biting the chocolate that you positioned on his teeth, you watched as his eyes suddenly opened in surprise, looking at the chocolate like it was the best thing that was ever created, making you start to laugh.
P-please stop laughing so much," Gorou groaned, watching you when he realized why you were laughing again. Trying to calm yourself down, you took a deep breath. "Sorry, Gorou, you are just so fun to tease sometimes." Watching him stutter, stating that he was not, made you chuckle again. "Okay, okay, sorry. Here, why don't you finish the rest of the chocolate," you stated, waving the bitten chocolate in front of him.
Unable to resist, he opened his mouth again, and you placed the chocolate on his lips, wondering to yourself why you declined his confession when you looked at him with so much affection.
It was just for a moment, really. You didn't know how it happened, but in the end, it did. Maybe you left your finger there for a little too long when he closed his mouth, and his canine teeth bit your finger.
Both of you were startled as you quickly pulled your hand back while he opened his mouth to let you go. Looking at your finger, you saw a little blood on it where he bit. He grabbed your hand, looking panicked at the blood. "Are you okay?"
"Ye-yeah," you said, blinking repeatedly at him, starting to calm down while he didn't. "I am so sorry that I bit you. I really didn't mean to," he told you, panicked, and you tried to calm him down.
"Don't worry about it too much. Accidents happen," you told him, trying to ease him from breathing too heavily. Yet you could not help but freeze for a moment as you stared at him. His breathing, a little harsh, wasn't due to panic or anything like that but something else. His eyes moved back to you and then the finger and blood, and his rosy cheeks. There was something in his eyes, something that wasn't worry but instead crazed.
There was something obsessive in that, something that you thought you saw many times in the past but gone too quickly to point out that you thought you were seeing things. There was always this voice in your head right beside your crush, telling you to stop, not to do it, not to say yes. That if you do say yes, something bad would actually happen. A feeling, that were alarm bells telling you not to go farther.
You stared at his eyes, looking at your blood, and then filled with a sickening kind of love in them, hungry and craving for more. You remembered why you had said no that time.
You just couldn't say yes.
164 notes · View notes
codfanficedits · 5 months
Text
Final Goodbye - Full version.
Pairing: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick & Reader
Summary: You are Death, guiding the men to the afterlife.
Wordcount: 12,467 | Rating: M (18+ only!)
Warnings: MW3 SPOILERS - Suicide - Selfharm and grieving.
A/N: Different colours to identify dialogue better. Gave John a little backstory.
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Being the reaper was a work of art on its own. It was your duty to guide the souls whose time was up to the afterlife, and you had made it your personal mission to make sure that as little as possible souls would cross to the afterlife scared. After all, death doesn’t discriminate between the sinners and the saints.
As a result you had to divide yourself, as an immortal being that was an easy thing to do. Being everywhere at once, yet being nowhere at the same time.
You had the taskforce in your sight for a while now. Four elite soldiers going on missions, you almost had your work cut out for you. But they were good, good enough to keep you lurking in the shadows, for now.
Some of them had come close, close enough to dance the dance of death with you, only to be granted a little more time. John “Soap” MacTavish being one of them. There had been plenty of moments where you had held his hands already, almost revealing your true form before he got pulled away from your grasp.
Life enjoyed playing tricks with you, with death. But it was what humans needed, a little reminder of their mortality so they could enjoy their life again.
And so here you were. You had been following John for a little while now, sensing that his time would be up again. And it was special so to say to follow him around, for every life he took, you would see a version of yourself pop up, taking the life he had claimed to the afterlife, only for that version of yourself to fade again, the very fragments of your soul being scattered around the world in an attempt to make the experience of death a more pleasant one than the experience of being alive. Not that you succeeded all the time. Sometimes you had to guide lives who deserved to live for another fifty years, sometimes the souls were terrified, and sometimes they were waiting for you, as old friends finally meeting up again. It could be a cruel world, but you weren’t there to judge. Humans had free will, and you could not interfere with it.
John’s death happened quick. Too quick for your liking. You preferred it when it took a little time. Not that you liked the suffering of the souls, no, of course not. But it was the best for all whenever a soul was at peace with their death. And John certainly was not.
“What the fuck?” He scolded. “Why the fuck can’t I grab my fucking weapon?”
“What kind of bullshit is this? Cap’n are you seeing thi-“ His sentence cutting short.
Oh you had seen this film before, and you never liked the ending. The look of despair when they see their body lying on the ground.
“No. No! Nonononono.” There it was.
Time seems to be standing still when reality seeps into his brain, his hand reaching out to his limp body on the ground, but he goes straight through it. A look of confusion, pain, anger, sadness when he can see his teammates continue the mission he couldn’t finish. He sees them disarm the bomb, he sees his best friend, Simon, kneel by his body, frantically looking for a pulse.
“I’m here!” John yells, waving his arms in front of Simon’s face, but it is no use, John no longer belongs to the earth, nor does he belong to the afterlife yet. He is in your realm, your limbo and you are the only one who can grand him the freedom of moving on.
“Simon! I am here!” He yells again, but he is meet with the empty eyes of his best friend, and a soft. “No pulse.”
“Hello.”
Your voice snaps him out of it. “Who the fuck are you?”
But it should be clear, the big, dark, black cloak hiding you, hiding your face. “I am Death.”
“I have died?”
“Afraid so.”
“That is a whole lot of bullshit. Can’t you turn it back or something?”
“No.”
You give him the time to process what had happened, what is happening, and what is about to happen.
“So, what now?” He asks, a hand running through his mohawk, his eyes shifting back to his dead body again.
“That depends.” You answer. “Are you ready to move on yet?” Normally you wouldn’t give the souls a choice, no normally you would guide them to the afterlife, maybe have a little small talk, but there was something inside of you telling you this death would stir up some things. So you decided to give him the choice.
“No.” His answer is quick, and you can tell he didn’t think about it.
“Why not?”
“There are so many thing that I still need to do.”
“You know you can’t do them now, right? You are death, you no longer possess your own body, everything you say, or do, is not visible in the human world.” Sometimes you have to be blunt in order to get your point across.
“Oh.”
“So I ask you again. Are you ready to move on?”
“No.”
“Give me a reason.”
John’s gaze shifts to the three men standing over his body, the pain in their eyes is visible and it is undeniable that they had a strong bond, something more than just coworkers. And their pain is shared, as you can see the same pain in his eyes.
“I need to know if they will be okay.”
“You can’t change anything if they won’t be okay.”
“I know, but I know they will be okay, I just need to see it with my own eyes.”
“Very well.” You answer. “You get to decide when you are ready.”
He looks up when he sees other versions of you reap the lives he and his team have taken, his brows furrow and you can tell he wants to ask you questions. Humans have always been curious creatures. “If you have something on your mind, speak up.”
“Who are those?” His fingers point at a version of you who slowly fades away.
“They are me and I am them.”
“That tells me exactly nothing.”
A soft laugh escapes you, even death this man is fearless.
“They are parts of my soul.” You explain. “I prefer to guide every soul to the afterlife personally, but with the volume of souls on this earth, I have to split myself in order to keep up.”
“And I am talking to the main version of Death?”
“That is how you could call it.”
“Does it hurt?”
“What?”
“Splitting yourself?”
“I am no mortal being, pain does not exist in my realm. So to answer your question. It does not hurt.”
His fingers go to the bullet wound in his head, his fingers trailing on the edges, before he pulls them back and looks at the blood on his fingers. “Huh. I got so caught up with this whole being dead thing, that I forgot I got shot.”
A smile forms around your lips. “You’re not the first to which that has happened.”
He is mesmerized, can you blame him? It is not every day that you meet death in person.
“If there is a death, does life exist too?”
“Yes. And Life is quite nice.”
“You’ve met them?”
“Of course, without Life I would not exist, and without me, Life would not be able to continue their creations. We dance a dance of existence together.”
“Hm.” John seems content with your answer. “Hey, can we follow L.T?”
“Simon Riley?”
“Yes.”
“Sure.” The benefit of being an immortal creature was that the law of physics and time did not apply to you, or to Johnny for that matter. “Why him, though?”
“I worry about him the most.” Johnny admitted with a shrug, a flicker of emotions in his eyes before it dies down again. “He had a fucked up life, and we had grown to be good friends, I worry he won’t take my death well.”
Oh sweet summer child, if you only knew. But you cannot interfere with the living and it is no point in telling Johnny what you know, so you keep quiet and grant his request.
“He has become my best friend in the military, you know?” Johnny breaks the silence, as you watch Simon, who at this time, doesn’t seem to feel a thing.
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
“Been watching the taskforce for a while.”
“Why?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“And you give a lot of answers. Now why were you watching us?”
“You’re soldiers. Death follows you around.”
“In the most literal sense.” He laughs at his own joke, and all you do is stare at him, blinking a few times.
“Jezus, even L.T. wasn’t as hard to crack.” He mutters.
“I worry.” John repeats. “I worry that when I died. Simon died too, and Ghost remained.”
In a sense he is not wrong. You can feel it too, the guilt that Simon carries, the hatred towards himself for letting a friend die.
“He is grieving.” You eventually say. “And while grief is a beautiful thing, it expresses itself in the most destructive ways.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
You can see his face shift, he understands Simon won’t cope well, and it doesn’t sit right with him. “I guess there is no way I can interfere with it, right?”
“Correct.”
“Huh.” He stays silent for a brief moment, while he watches the mission debrief going on, without him, but about him. “How does time work here?”
“I am not sure what you mean.”
“Can’t you speed up time or something? Turns out watching people gets kind of boring.”
Humans had always been impatient beings. “I can.” You say. “I can fast forward until we see Simon all by himself.”
His eyes light up, and you’ve hit the mark. “Yes, yes, I need to see how he copes.”
Alas, you grant him his wish, after all, you are death, not some cruel being.
His eyes widen as time around the two of you starts to speed up, the world moving at a faster pace while you are both the centre of it. You see his emotions shift to a sad one, he tries to hide it, but it is hard to conceal the emotions in his eyes, even for a hardened soldier. A soft sigh escapes him when he watches the sunset and you understand it. The sunsets are your favourite thing on earth too.
“It is hard to grasp that I’ll never see another sunset again.” John whispers and you can do nothing but nod. You understand, of course you do. “I just wish I would have appreciate them more while I was alive.”
“For what it is worth. You’re not the first who only appreciates the beauty of life when it is ripped away from them.”
A pained expression paints his face. “It is really the end, huh?” He mutters softly as you slow down time again. “There will be no second chances after this.”
“We are here.” You say, but you only form your sentence to get him out of his thoughts, of course he recognizes Simon’s quarters. He has been there before.
You guide him through the wall, knowing that what the both of you are about to see isn’t a pretty sight. Simon had taken his famous Ghost mask off, balaclava tossed on his bed, an empty look in his eyes, while he watches the dog tags in his hand. One of them is missing, and a smile curls around your lips when you realise where they are.
John doesn’t notice, instead he is hesitant to reach out to his friend.
“Fuck!” Simons booming voice startles John. “Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!” Simon is blaming himself and all that hatred needs to come out. His fists slam down on the mirror on the wall, the shards digging in to the skin on his hands, but it only fuels Simon’s anger. “It should have been me! Fucking me!”
Times like these make your job hard, while you do not understand humans all the time, you can understand their grief, their longing, their desperate attempts to cope with their loved ones being gone.
His hands clutch around the dog tag, the material reminder he has of his best friend. You know Simon wants to cry, to let out all the build up frustration, but you also know Simon is raised by violence and not by love, so he doesn’t allow himself to. Blood drips slowly from his balled fist as he takes deep breaths to calm himself down. Not that it is doing much, every time Simon catches a glimpse of himself, he is reminded of the loss that happened today.
“Is he going to be okay?” John asks.
“I don’t know.” You answer, but you know, you know what will happen, and you know it won’t be pretty, but John doesn’t need to know, not when you can see the pain on his face, the pain in his eyes. The pain in his very soul to see his friend react like this.
His breath hitches in his throat when he sees Simon looking for something, a hidden bottle of whiskey appearing from between his socks in his dresser.
“Fuck.” John’s voice is soft. “Fuck!” It isn’t as soft anymore when Simon takes the first swig.
“Are you really sure I can’t do something? Anything?”
You shake your head.
“Please, anything. I beg you.” The desperation in his voice is clear as day, he doesn’t even try to hide how he feels about his best friend drinking.
“I.. I.. I can’t see this. Simon CAN’T drink himself to death because of me, because I died, becau-“
“He doesn’t drink himself to death.”
And for John time stops again, the weight of the world falling off his shoulders. “Oh thank God.” He sighs. “I mean, thank you, thank life? What is appropriate to say?”
He doesn’t drink himself to death, it will be far worse.
“Thank God is fine.” You eventually answer.
John looks at Simon again, who keeps on drinking the whiskey as if he needs it to survive. “I’m sorry.” Simon eventually says, and John’s eyes lit up. “I’m sorry, Johnny.”
“You don’t have to be sorry.” John rambles. “It wasn’t your fault. We all knew Makarov was an asshole.”
“It should’ve been me.” Simon sighs, not hearing the words his best friend so desperately wants to hear him. “You had so much things you still wanted to do, you still had a life in store.”
“Bollocks, Simon.” John tries to tell him while Simon takes another sip. “Fucking bollocks. You can make something out of your life too! We’ve talked about this.”
The nearly empty bottle gets thrown to the wall when Simon locks eyes with the dog tag again. “Fuck. I really hope that when I wake up tomorrow, you’ll still be alive, and this is all a horrible dream.”
Simon ignores the mess on the ground, he ignores the life outside of his quarters, he ignores the world that keeps on spinning, that keeps going on, while his life stopped the moment that bullet hit John. Instead he half undresses himself, slow, lazy movements, the alcohol making it hard to be precise. And he curls up in a ball, the single dog tag clutched in his hand, close to his heart, an gesture to keep his best friend close to him.
“Oh L.T. that hangover is going to hurt.” John mumbles. “And you promise he won’t drink himself to death, right?”
“I promise.”
“And I really can’t give him a sign that I am still here? Or you know, put a glass of water on his nightstand or something?”
“Afraid not.”
“I wish I could though.” John adds with a sigh, looking over the sleeping form of his friend.
“How is the rest coping?”
“You mean John and Kyle?”
“Yes.”
“Would you like to see?”
His eyes light up again. “Can I?”
“Wouldn’t have said it, if you couldn’t”
“In that case, yes, yes please.”
“Who first?”
He needs to think for a brief moment, does he want to see his Captain first, or his other good friend? He isn’t as worried about them as he was about Simon, yet the decision seems an easy one.
“Kyle.”
“Very well.” You hold out your hand for him to take, taking him to the quarters of his other friend. The young man lies on his bed, above the sheets, just staring at the ceiling, tears burning in his eyes.
John needs to swallow a lump in his throat. “He’ll be fine.” Will he?
“But shit.” John continues. “I wish I had told him I was proud of him more often.”
The both of you stay quiet while Kyle rolls over to his side, facing the wall, eyes still wide open.
“He was a little younger than I was, but we had the same rank, and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t become the best soldier out there. So young, yet so many achievements already.” John runs a hand through his mohawk. “I just.. I just hope he knows how proud I am of him.”
Another smile tugs around your lips, while Kyle rolls over again, it is clear that he can’t seem to get comfortable, the events of today replaying in his mind while he tries to process what happens, while he tries to find a balance between being a tough soldier, and being human.
“I want to become like you Soap, when I grow up.” Kyle mutters, before he finally closes his eyes. And you look over to John, making sure that he heard the words that left his friends lips and in that moment he looks like a proud father, the same words he had once told Simon, were now said by someone he was so proud of.
John wants to reach out, pat his friend on the shoulder and promise him everything will be okay. But he can’t and you can tell it is eating him inside. He takes a deep breath, and then another, and another.
“Okay.” He finally said. “I think I want to see the Captain now.”
“Sure.”
Once more you hold out your hand for him to take, allowing him to see his Captain.
“Oh.”
It Is not a pretty sight. Price’s phone lights up time after time, missed calls from Laswell, from Nicolai, but he doesn’t answer them, paperwork gets ignores while he smokes cigar after cigar. His way to cope with stress.
“Shit.” John curses. “I would’ve thought captain would be the least affected.”
But Price is only human, and humans grief in the worst ways possible. The taskforce had become the family he once dreamed of having, he found solace in the people around him, and losing one was always hard, especially when it was someone who was close to him. Price slams his fist on his desk, startling John.
“Makarov came for me.” The voice coming out of Price is soft, a stark contrast with the loud slamming of his fist only moments ago. “You died because you tried to help me.”
“You would’ve done the same, cap.” John answers. “You would’ve given your life to save any of us.”
Price sighs and shakes his head, his hand reaching out to grab a picture off his desk, a group picture, the four of them together.
“Fucking idiot.” Price mutters. “You should’ve never done that. I should bring you back from the death, only to kick you so hard you’ll die again.” It is almost an endearing way of coping and John can’t help but chuckle.
You give John a nudge, pointing at the dog tags Price is wearing. Instead of two, his chain has three. John’s being added after he identified the body and gave Laswell the details for the report.
John’s gaze softens as he notices. “I’ll never be far away from them.”
“Never.”
“You know what. I think they’ll be alright without me. They will learn to live again.”
You can tell he wants to tell you that he is ready to move on, but you stop him by raising your hand. “Do you want to see your final moment together?”
“Sure.”
Once again you reach out your hand for him to take, and within the blink of an eye you’re in the Scottish highlands, three adults standing by a cliff, an urn in their hands. It is almost peaceful, serene.
“Who dares wins, sleep easy soldier.” Price is the first to talk.
“See you down range, brother. We’ll take it from here.” Kyle is the second to follow.
“Rest in peace, Johnny.” Simon is the last to speak.
You and John watch Simon unscrew the lid of the urn, tilting it, allowing the ashes to dance with the wind.
“I feel… at peace.” John mentions, watching his ashes spread through the air.
He sits down on the edge of the cliff, patting down next to him, signalling you to sit next to him, and so you do.
“I want to ask something.”
“And if I can, I will answer.”
“Why do you look human? Are you human?”
“No, I am not human.”
“Then what are you?”
“I am death. I have always been death and I will always be death. However, if I choose to portray myself other than human, it will make your kind freak out even more.”
John can’t help but laugh at your words. “Truth be told, I think I would’ve freaked out to see something else than human, yes.”
His gaze falls on the beautiful scenery in front of the two of you.
“So, what happens next?”
“When you’re ready I’ll help you cross to the afterlife.” You answer.
“What is the afterlife like?”
“That depends. It is different for everyone.” You reply.
“Is there like a heaven and hell?”
“No. The afterlife is a place where your soul goes to after your body has died. Every soul gets its own realm, and there it stays, together with all the souls it loves.”
“So, does that mean I’ll see the soul of my grandmother?”
“If you loved her, yes.”
“Does that.. does that mean I’ll see Bobby again?”
“Your dog?”
“Yeah.”
“Of course.”
“I’ve missed him.”
“He knows.”
“I’m glad.”
John knows it is time for him to go, but he has to ask the question that burns within him.
“Will I see them again?”
“Eventually. I can tell your bond is strong enough for all of you to be reunited again in the afterlife.”
“I’ll wait for them.”
“And when their time has come I’ll be sure to guide them to you.”
“Thank you, Death.” For the last time John takes your hand in his. “I am ready now.”
-
Out of all three of them, Kyle had struggled the most with John’s death, or Soap, as the living men preferred to refer to him. Their silly nicknames never made much sense to you, how could John become a Soap, a Kyle become a Gaz, and a Simon become a Ghost?
 Kyle had seen Soap – John – as some sort of mentor, someone to look up to, and the fact that that person was gone, was something Kyle couldn’t grasp, something he didn’t want to grasp.
It turned out that Soap also was the glue that held the four of them together, and with him being gone, the group of soldier started to fall apart, slowly, but surely.
And all you could do was wait patiently.
So you did, waiting in the shadow after Kyle took dangerous mission after dangerous mission. Today was no exception, much to the despair of his captain. Not that that would stop Kyle. No, Kyle felt as if he had to prove himself, he wanted to make Soap proud, he wanted to make Simon proud, he wanted to make his captain proud. So much that he forgot his own mortality in the process.
And there he was, laying in the high grass, hiding from the enemy that planted a bullet into his lower abdomen.
Time for you to come into action, you had been lurking into the shadow for a while now, and just when you were ready to step out again, you saw them. Life.
“Not yet, Death.” Life’s bright voice sounds. “This one isn’t done yet.”
You can only watch while Life takes his hand into theirs, making sure Kyle can hold on until help arrives.
Life is everything Death isn’t. Where you, Death, are surrounded by sadness, despair, and darkness, Life is surrounded by joy, happiness, and light. Yet your realms seem to interfere, blend in together, not every soul is happy to be alive, and other souls deserve to live longer than the universe can grand them.
Life and Death dance around the world, leaving a trail of love and grief wherever they go.
“Gaz!” A loud voice booms over the field, his lieutenant comes running over, as fast as his legs can carry him. “Seems like you will win this round, Life.” You muse, as you watch Simon apply pressure to the wound.
“I need a medic, NOW!” Simon yells. “I can’t lose you Gaz.” He adds with a softer voice. “Not you too.”
But Kyle can’t look Simon in his eyes, not yet, right now he isn’t able to cope with the disappointment he will see in his lieutenants eyes. “I’ll be fine.” Kyle mutters with a  meek smile, and you can see Life squeeze his hand.
“Of course.” Simon agrees, because Simon doesn’t dare to think about the fact that he might lose someone he cares about again.
“You’ll be okay Gaz, I’ll make sure.” And with those words, Simon spews out what he wanted to tell to Soap.
And Kyle will be okay, Life had made sure that he escaped from your grasp for the final time. Life continued to hold Kyle’s hand until he reached the infirmary, Life didn’t let go off his hand until the first stitch was placed in the wound, letting him live until his time was up.
And you just followed, following Life and Kyle into the infirmary, quietly waiting. Kyle’s time would come, quicker than he would expect it to happen.
Life finally let go off his hand, giving you a quick nod before they disappeared again.
You just watched, seeing fragments of yourself guide the souls of the less fortunate while you had yourself fixated on the young man before you.
You watched over his shoulder when he took out his phone. His hand shaking while he went to call his mother, a shaky breath leaving his lips when his mother picked up the phone and the video call starts.
“Mom.”
“Kyle? My boy, are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”
“You never call without a reason. What’s on your mind?”
“Just.. I know.. You.. I..” The poor boy started to stutter, not able to express the emotions he wanted to express.
And a mothers love knows no boundaries. “Are you worried about John, Bearie?”
A sour expression crossed his face by the nickname from his childhood, but it is quickly swallowed. “Yeah.” He muttered softly.
You know the look his mother bears, it is the look of a woman who wishes her son wasn’t away from her, a mother who wishes she could crawl through the phone to comfort her son about his fallen teammate.
“What is on your mind, boy?”
“I just wonder ma.” Kyle starts. “I wonder if he was in pain, if he was scared, if he would ever be proud of me.”
No he wasn’t, more pissed off than scared, more than you’ll ever know.
His mother sighs softly. “Those are questions you’ll never find an answer to. But I get it, I had the same questions when your grandpa passed. And I like to think that both of them are proud of us. You have reason to be proud, Kyle. I am sure John is proud of you too.”
The expression on his face softens. “Thank you mom.”
“Anytime Bearie.”
He rolls his eyes, quick enough so that his mother doesn’t catch on.
“Do you want to speak to your sisters too?”
“No, I’m quite tired, just missed you.”
“I miss you too Kyle. Promise me you’ll come home soon yeah?”
“Promised ma, I’ll see you soon okay?”
“I love you, Bearie, stay safe.”
“Love you too mom.”
The moment his call gets disconnected, he presses his lips against his phone, wishing to press the same kiss against his mothers forehead. Kyle had never struggled to be away from his family, but with Soap’s passing, he found himself longing to be with his family more and more. Maybe he would take a little break after his next mission.
But Kyle never got to take that break. Soon after he was cleared from the infirmary he found himself taking dangerous missions again. The promise to his mother being long forgotten whenever he found himself enjoying the rush again, the feeling of being alive, of being worthy, he finally felt as if he mattered.
Not that any of that was important right now. Because right now Kyle was about to meet you. He had found himself caught in enemy crossfire once more, being in the delusion that he is in fact invincible. But he isn’t, no one is really no matter how often they think they are.
Kyle groans, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his short breaths, as his hands clutch the wound on his chest, he knew that time was running out, and even you knew that Life wouldn’t be able to keep him away from you.
“Hello.”
Kyle looks up at your words, his eyes wide with fear. “Are you? Did I? Am I dead?”
“Not yet.”
“Fuck.” His face scrunches in pain.
“I suppose I can’t sweet talk my way out of dying.”
“Afraid not.”
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I promised mom I would come home again.”
“You did.”
“How did you know?”
“That is something for later. Right now I would advice you to call your mother.”
A short flash of gratitude in his eyes before the pain takes over again. With a bloody hand he takes out his phone, dialling his mother’s number. But she doesn’t pick up, she is on the other side of the world, blissfully unaware that her son is about to breathe his last breath.
His lips press together to a thin line when he reaches her voicemail.
“Mommy?” His voice is quivering when he speaks. “It’s me, Bearie. I’m so sorry, but I won’t be coming home again. I.. I.. I.. I was too reckless, thought I had to make you and the whole world proud after Soap died, and now I never get to see you again.” The words spill out of him worried his life will be over before he can say the things he wants her to hear.
“I am so sorry for breaking my promise mom, I love you, I love the girls. Please don’t blame yourself.” His breathing is getting quicker and he starts to get cold, a sign for you that his time is coming to an end. You hold out your hand to him, a subtle notice that he has to hurry up.
“Mom. Mom I can’t say this enough, I should’ve said it more to you, but I love you. I really love you, thank you for being my mother.”
One raspy breath, another raspy breath.
“Oh and mom? It doesn’t hurt, I promise. It doesn’t hurt and I am not scared.”
Lair.
He ends the call, the pain is visible in his face, in his eyes. In everything. His hand is shaking when he reaches for your held out hand, and the moment you touch him, it is over. The pain disappears, his face relaxes.
Kyle stands besides you, looking at his dead body. “I had to lie to her, you know. She would never forgive herself for allowing me to join the army.”
“Do not worry, I am not here to judge you.”
“Then what are you here for?”
“To guide you.”
“To hell?”
“No, to the afterlife.”
“Oh.”
It stays quiet for a little bit.
“How did you know I had promised mom that I would come home?”
“You should’ve been dead the last time you got shot, but Life decided you were allowed some more time.”
“Can I thank Life?”
“No, Life is a shy creature, and prefers to not be seen by the mortals. I am in no position to deny Life their wishes.”
A quick nod, as Kyle seems to understand what you mean.
He looks at his body again, and a sad look appears on his face. “Will my mother at least have my body back home?”
You nod. “Yes, let me speed up time a little, because it does take a while.”
“You can speed up time?”
“Correct, right now you are no longer in the world of the living, but in my realm. My rules apply here.”
He relaxes as time begins to speed up.
“Watch closely.” You urge. “You might not have realised, but the sunset are always beautiful.”
He goes to sit down, next to his body, and he allows himself to enjoy the setting sun, a soft, smooth transition to the night.
“Gaz, this is Ghost, how copy?” That is your cue to slow down time again.
“Gaz, how copy?”
“Can I answer him?”
“No, everything you do here, has no influence on the world of the living.”
“Shit, they must be worried.”
“Kyle, how copy?”
“Fuck. Kyle, stay where you are, I am coming.”
Kyle leans back into the grass. “Did you guide Soap too?”
“I did.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I was there when he got shot. Guided him to the afterlife too.”
“Did he.. Did he mention me?”
“Mention you? He wanted to stay in my realm until he was sure all three of you could cope.”
Kyle smiles. “He always was a good friend. Did he say anything about me?”
“Only that he was proud of you, and that he should’ve told you more often.”
“He did?”
“I have no benefit in lying.”
Kyle runs a hand through his hair, and you can see the tears in his eyes. “Fuck. I really thought he would’ve been so disappointed in me.”
“He wasn’t. By all means he was telling me how proud he was, how much you had achieved already.”
Kyle’s phone rings, and the screen lights up with the name of his mother, the moment the ringing ends, it starts again immediately. And again. And again. Kyle has a sad look on his face. “I hate that I broke my promise to her.” He admits.
“I understand that.”
“God, she will be so heartbroken.”
“Yes. But you did give her some closure by that voicemail. She will cherish it till the end of her dying days. Even though it was a lie, hearing from you that it didn’t hurt, that you weren’t scared. It will help her heal more than you can imagine.”
Kyle wipes away the tears that had rolled down his cheeks. “I am glad. She really is the best you know? Always been supportive of my dreams, even when my father left, she was there for me, always putting me and my sisters first.”
“It sounds like you love her.”
“More than I’ve loved myself.”
You watch Simon approach, his face hidden behind his mask, but the emotion in his eyes is clear. “Fuck, no. Gaz.”
He drops down the body of his friend, searching for a pulse, but the body had gone cold already, and in a moment of emotion, of weakness even, Simon cradles the dead body of his friend. “Not you too man, come on.”
Kyle has to swallow a lump in his throat. “Shit.”
Simon reaches for his radio. “Gaz has been found and identified, Killed in action. I’ll return soon.”
“Will he be okay? I noticed him drinking more after Soap died, and I don’t want him to drink himself to death because of my death.”
“He won’t drink himself to death.”
“Really? Oh god that is a relief.”
He watches, as Simon picks up his body, and carries him away.
“How does the Captain cope?” Kyle asks.
“I can show you?”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
By the gods, that wasn’t a good sight to see, the captain looked at least fifteen years older, the constant smoking now had the company of a bottle of whiskey.
A fourth dog tag on the chain.
“Fuck.” Price muttered. “Fuck, it never gets any fucking easier.”
The fingertips of Price trace the outline of Kyle’s file. “I never should’ve let you go on this mission.”
“I hope he knows I would’ve gone on another dangerous mission if he would’ve declined me this one.” Kyle answers.
“He knows, deep down he knows, but it is easier for you humans to find a way to blame yourself.”
“Will the captain be okay?”
“He will be the last of you four to pass.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Huh, I guess the captain is tougher than he looks.”
“That he is.”
“And Ghost? Will he be okay?”
“He won’t drink himself to death.”
“Final question, will mom be okay?”
“Your mother? She will never be herself again. She will always miss you, mourn you, but your urn gets a little shrine, and she will never toss out your childhood stuffed animals.”
“How long will it take for her to have me home again?”
“Do you want me to show you?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No, I don’t think I’ll be able to cope once I see her heartbroken face. Right now all my memories of her are nice ones, and I will break my own heart if I see her grieve.”
“That is fair.”
Kyle looks at his captain again, before he turns to look at you.
“Will I see Soap again?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Mhm. Once you’ve moved on to the afterlife, your soul will connect with the souls you’ve loved.”
“Can I go now? Simon will be alright, Captain will be alright, and mom will eventually be alright too. I feel like I can leave them now and not be worried.”
Kyle takes a deep breath. “And I would like to catch up with Soap.”
“Very well.”
You hold out your hand to him. “Let me guide you then.”
-
Simon Riley. You had been following the man ever since he was born. There had been times where he had been ready to leave this earth, only to be pulled back by Life on the last second.
It would be a lie if it wouldn’t make you question whether or not it would be ethical to keep certain people alive. But that wasn’t up to you to judge after all.
Even after he escaped the horror that was his childhood home, death seemed to follow Simon, his hand never steered clear from the blood that stained him.
But this time? This time it was different.
Simon couldn’t cope with the death of Gaz and Soap, leaving him a broken mess. But Simon was taught that feelings, emotions should be hidden inside, piling up until you couldn’t bear it anymore.
So Simon did what he knew best, copying the coping skill of his father, empty bottles piling up just like the feelings piled up inside of him. Whiskey replacing the companionship that his friends no longer could give them, the burning sensation of the liquid making him feel alive, a feeling he thought he didn’t need anymore, but he felt himself craving it, chasing it.
And of course people around him were worried, John tried to talk to him, John had seen this way too often before. Soldiers not being able to cope with the loss, turning to the poison that roamed this earth, alcohol, drugs and self-destruction in the from of women. And John had tried to stop it, tried to warn him, but Simon was a grown man, capable of making his own choices, no matter how destructive.
You knew you had promises Soap and Gaz that Simon wouldn’t drink himself to death, and with the amount of liquor he was pumping into his system, you almost got the feeling you had been lying.
But Simon would bounce back from the alcohol abuse, with the help of his captain that is.
It had been a day like any other, Simon would try to focus on his work, his mind already on the numbing temptation of the liquor, briefings, conversations, details, they would all go past him like a blur while he tried to deceive the people around him. And usually after a day of work, he would lock himself into his quarters, drinking until he forgot his fallen teammates.
“A word.” John’s voice is loud, a little too loud for Simon’s liking.
“About what?”
“You.”
“What is there about me?”
“Why did you join the army?”’
You watch, slightly amused at the low blow John just spat out.
“Don’t you fu-“
“Answer my fucking question, Simon. Why did you join the fucking army.”
And you can tell Simon is struggling to answer that question, hell he doesn’t want to answer that question, because that would mean he could no longer pretend he wasn’t following his fathers footsteps.
“I joined to escape home.”
“And why did you have to escape home?”
“Because my father was an abusive alcoholic.”
“Then tell me, Simon, why the fuck are you turning into your father?”
“Bullshit John.”
“Bullshit? You think you’re sleek, only bringing away the bottles in the early morning. Do you think we really don’t hear the clinking of the glass while you wander these halls? Do you really think no one can smell it on your breath?”
“You don’t get it.”
You had seen John often enough to recognize the subtle anger in his face, flaring nostrils, a slight raise of his brows, eyes narrowing.
“I don’t get it?”
“You have no idea how much their death affected me.”
“I have no idea because you shut yourself out and rather poison yourself.” John spat back at him.
“You have no idea what I have been through Captain, and I would strongly advice you stray away to this topic.”
“You’re right. I did not have your upbringing, and I do wish you dad had healed before he came your father, but you do not get to tell me about grief.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I am affected too. I was the one who asked Soap to come with me to Makarov, I was the one who approved Gaz going on that mission. And I can’t let you drink yourself to death, Simon. I will not be responsible for your death too.”
Both men are silent, straying into territory they are not used too, at least not with each other. Both men had been told that their emotions were forbidden, that emotions should not be on display for others to see.
But you could see their hurt souls, their broken souls, needing the company of each other. John is the first to give in. Holding his arms open and Simon clings on for dear life.
“God fucking damnit boy, get your shit together, that is an order.”
“I forget then when I’m drunk enough.”
“I know. But forgetting them isn’t the way to go. You shouldn’t forget them, celebrate their life because they no longer can.”
“I will, Captain.”
“Good.” John let go off him, giving him a rough pat on his back. “Do you need anything from me, the military?”
“A little time off.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay all by yourself? I can get a therapist for you if you want.”
“I would like that.”
“Good. Now, get some rest, I’ll pull some strings to get you someone to talk to.”
“Thanks Cap, goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Simon.”
Something was off, something was different, and John couldn’t really put his finger on it, but decided to not press any further. He had nagged Simon long enough and it felt as if his point had come across  good enough.
Simon on the other hand, felt a calm feeling he hadn’t experienced before. A decision crossing his mind when he gripped his sink, tears streaming down his face when he recognized his father in the mirror. Simon knew he wouldn’t be strong to recover, he had become an alcoholic, just like his father.
“Fuck!” His fist slams the mirror, the second one this year, blood running down his arm while he takes in the freedom the pain gives him. His mind is only giving him one solution, the emotions, his grief, the craving to alcohol, they’re making it impossible to think straight.
Simons scribbles something down on a piece of paper. Before he takes a deep breath and looks around his room. John had been right, Simon thought it had alle been under control, but he was lying to himself, the half full bottles being the proof of that, but not anymore, not any longer.
He takes place in his own bathtub, a piece of glass gripped tightly in his right hand. You know what is about to happen and this is always your least favourite part.
He doesn’t drink himself to death.
Tears blur his vision when the sharp material pierces his skin, dragging down. He doesn’t even register the pain, all he can feel is the peace and quiet his mind gives him. So he does it again, and again, going deeper each time.
His head tilts back and he drops the shard of glass, causing it to shatter on the ground.
It stays silent, the only sound is his blood dripping on the floor of the bathtub. Life is nowhere to be seen, and you know this is his end. In a split second you make a decision.
The universe had been too unkind to Simon already, the least you could do was to make sure he didn’t have to die alone.
“Hello.”
“What the fuck are you? How the fuck did you get in?” His eyes snap open and his head snaps back to face you.
“I am Death.”
“Did I die already?”
“Not yet.”
“Than why the fuck are you here?”
“Because this will kill you, and I did not want you to die alone.”
“Well thanks for your concern but I don’t need your pity.”
“Gaz and Soap did not have to die alone.”
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“Gaz and Soap did not have to die alone.”
“How the fuck would you know?”
You chuckle softly. “I guided them too.”
His face softens. “How.. What.. What did they say?”
“Soap was pissed off, Gaz was worried he had let his mother down.”
“Sounds like them.”
“It is nearly your time, Simon.”
“Will the pain stop?”
“When you’re dead? Yes, yes the pain will stop.”
“I can’t wait to be pain free.”
“Tell me about your favourite memory?”
“Of what?”
“Anything you please.”
Simon has to think for a little while.
“My brother.” He eventually starts. “Had gotten a part time job, and he needed to give the money to our father, but he had hidden his first pay check. So when our father was passed out on the couch again, we snuck out.” A smile forms on his face.
“We bought a cake, one of those fancy ones with a lot of frosting. We ate it in the skatepark where we used to hangout a lot. I ate so much cake I couldn’t stand it for the longest time afterwards. But for the time that it took for us to eat that cake, we were happy, not a care in the world, just loads of sugar and each other.”
He hadn’t noticed yet, but the shackles of life had fallen off during his story, setting him free of his mortal pain.
“I miss him.”
“Tommy?”
“Yes, more than anything.”
“How’s the pain, Simon?”
“Which pa- Oh fuck.”
You watch as he gets up from the bathtub, looking at his body, he died smiling, his eyes closed, almost looking happy.
“You deserved better.”
“I did.” He agrees.
Simon clears his throat. “So what now? You take me to hell and I’ll burn for eternity?”
“Why would you burn in hell?”
“I am a soldier, I killed people. People who deserved it, and people who might not have deserved it.”
“And that is equal to eternal suffering?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Don’t you think you have suffered enough?”
His face turns pale, the words slowly sinking in while he recalls his whole life.
“So there is no hell for me?” his voice is a soft whisper.
“There is no hell for you.”
“Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck I was so scared for hell, that had been the only thing holding me back from killing myself earlier.”
“So” He looks at his body again. “What would be next?”
“Once you are ready, I’ll take you to the afterlife.”
“How do I know I’ll be ready?”
“You’ll feel it.”
“I don’t feel it yet.”
“Then you can stay with me.”
He nods, liking the answers that you’ve given him. “I have some questions.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“Can I ask them?”
 “Of course. I’ll answer them if I have the answer.”
“How do you know which soul to reap?”
“I just know.”
“Okay, and now you are here with me, does that mean no one else dies on the world.”
“If that was the case a lot of deaths would’ve been postponed.” You answer. “I can split myself into fragments, therefor I am able to reap multiple souls.”
“How did you, you know, get into this profession?”
“I was created to be Death. It is all I have ever known, and it is all I will ever know.”
“Hm.” His eyes shift to his body again.
“What is the afterlife, and who will be there?”
“Everyone will be there, every soul goes to the afterlife, and you’ll reconnect with the souls that love you.”
Simon has to swallow a lump in his throat, he wants to say something but is interrupted by a knock on the door. “Simon?” John’s ruff voice sounds.
“Can I answer him?”
“Afraid not.”
“Simon!” the knocking returns. “I swear to God.” John mutters, as he opens the door to Simon’s room. “If you have been drinking again.”
John looks around the room, and you and Simon watch him do so. John’s gaze fall on the piece of paper, his face turning pale. “God fucking damnit.” The paper falls on the ground, slowly twirling in the air before it gently settles down.
‘this isn’t your fault.’ Even though you knew what would be on the letter your eyes automatically shift to the words on the white paper.
Johns open the door to Simon’s bathroom, and he just stand in the door opening, taking in the dead body of his teammate. “God damn it, Simon.” He repeats. “You could’ve talked to me you know.”
John moves over to the body, taking in the smile on Simon’s face. “At least you were happy.” John mutters.
His hands reach for Simon’s dog tags, taking one of the chain to add to his own. John’s fingertips rest on Simon’s cheek for a brief moment. “I hope death treats you better than life.”
Simon looks at you. “You do.”
“Thank you.”
“Will the Captain be okay?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“I feel bad, for leaving him behind, for doing this.”
“He’ll understand, and when his time will come too, I’ll tell him about you.”
“Thank you.”
Simon looks at his feet. “I don’t know if you can do this, but I want to visit Johnny.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to go to the Scottish Highlands, to the place where we set his ashes free.”
You hold out your hand to him. “I’ll take you there.”
Simon’s eyes light up as he takes your hand into his, and before he can blink twice, you’ve transported the both of you to the exact same place.
“I forgot how beautiful it was here.” Simon says, as he sits down on the exact same spot where Johnny had sat down, and you can’t help but smile, knowing that their souls are happy together in another universe.
You go to sit down next to him. “It is beautiful here.”
The both of you sit in silence, you know Simon wants to ask you something, a question burning within him ever since John had interrupted, but you’re not filling anything in, letting Simon come to you when he is ready.
“You mentioned something about souls and love.” Simon eventually says.
“I did.”
“Who will be waiting for me?”
A faint hint of a smile can be seen on your face.
“More than you’ll expect.”
“Tommy?”
You just nod and Simon let out a shaky breath.
“It has been a while since I’ve seen him, I’ve missed him terribly. Who else?”
“Tommy, Beth, Joseph, your mother. Roach. Gaz, Soap. They will all be there.”
“Will they be mad for what I did?”
“They love you too much to be mad.”
“I’ve known more love death, than I’ve done alive.”
You turn to look at him. “I know, and I am sorry.”
“Is there anything I had done to deserve such a life?”
You want to wince, flinch at his words, but it is a fair question.
“No. Sometimes the universe isn’t fair when it gives somebody a course of life. You were a child, Simon. What happened to you, should’ve never happened, not to you, not to anyone.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re brave.” You add. “You’ve survived something you shouldn’t have had to face in the first place.”
“How do you cope with it?” Simon asks.
“With what?”
“The unfairness?”
You let out a sigh. “It is hard. Sometimes I have to guide innocent souls to the afterlife, souls I would have wished had a long and sweet life. And sometimes I see souls who I felt deserved death a long time ago. Unfortunately I cannot change the course of the universe, nor can I change the free will of humans.”
“Do you feel remorse?”
“No. I am no mortal, nor do I possess mortal feelings. I do however acknowledge the unfairness of certain situations.”
“I see. It is hard for me to imagine.”
“I get that.”
“Hey Death?”
“Yes, Simon?”
“Do you promise that they will be waiting for me in the afterlife?”
“I promise.”
Simon holds out his hand to you. “Then please, let me see them again.”
-
John Price.
The man had seen more than enough death for a lifetime. Yet it wouldn’t be the last of it. Being a soldier signed him up to a lifetime of death and despair. But unlike the others, John seemed to accept it a whole lot better. Yes he did feel guilty, yes he wished life could’ve turned out different, for him, for his team, for all of them.
But it didn’t, so he had to learn how to cope.
Even though you know his time isn’t there yet, you decide to follow him around, just a little more, just to see how he would cope. That is what you would tell yourself anyway, maybe you had been getting a little attached to this group of men.
You watch John approach the cemetery, four bouquets of flowers in his hands, a picnic basket hanging on his arm while he walks, silence lingering around him, and if he were in company, they would feel the tension surrounding him. But John is alone, except for your company, who would’ve guessed Death would’ve be such good company?
Three out of the four bouquets get placed on the ground, alongside the picnic basket, number four, a bouquet of tulips. Yellow tulips. John places them on the first grave, his hand brushes away the dirt on the gravestone. “Well, for someone whose nickname is Soap, it sure gets dirty quick.” John chuckles at his own joke. John kneels down at the grave, removing some of the weeds that had grown, using his hand to brush the rest of the gravestone clean.
“I’m sorry, Johnny.” He mutters. “Sorry I dragged you along to that mission. I’m sorry you had to catch the bullet meant for me.” John awkwardly pats the gravestone.
“If I had known that would be our last moment together, I would’ve spent the car ride to our destination telling you how proud I am of you.” He speaks, and while John knows that no one will hear his words, it feels good to get them off his chest.
“I would tell you how good you’re doing, how much you’ve grown. How much we all appreciated you. How we all enjoyed your jokes, even though some of us would rather perish than tell you that.”
“You probably already know, but Kyle and Simon joined you.”
“I wish I could have prevented this. Kyle.. He slipped right between my fingers, I never thought he would push and push the way he did, Johhny. I thought I was keeping him safe, keeping him busy, but in reality I was allowing him to die.”
John swallows the lump in his throat. “And Simon. I think I knew what was happening, I thought I knew what was going on, but I was wrong, so, so, so wrong.”
John takes a deep breath, inhaling the cold air into his lungs, before he slowly exhales. “You’ve been one hell of a soldier, Johnny, but more important, you’ve been an amazing person. I’ll see you again on the other side, take care of the boys for me, will ya?”
With a grunt John gets up from his knees, taking a new bouquet of flowers.
A colourful bouquet of freesias is put down in front of the next grave and John lets out a sigh again, staring into the distance. It is hard to read his face, and you can’t figure out what he is thinking.
“I’ve heard a lot of gut wrenching sounds, Kyle.” He finally speaks. “But I’ll never forget the screams of your mother when I had to confirm your death. The wailing will never leave my mind. I can’t erase it, no matter how hard I try.”
The captain uses his hand once more to brush some dirt of the gravestone, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I’m sorry.” He says once more.
“I really wanted to believe life had so much in store for you. I should never had let you take on that mission, Kyle. I should’ve seen the signs, the desperate attempt to prove yourself to me, to Johnny, maybe even to Simon too.”
“But the truth is, boy, you never had to prove yourself in the first place. We all saw your potential, we all saw the amazing leader you could’ve become.” John runs a hand through his short hair. “I really wish we could’ve talked about this more. I really wish you would’ve told me you didn’t feel good enough, Kyle. I could’ve shown you my point of view.”
“But, we can’t undo what happened.” John continues. “I hope you can finally feel enough.”
“Your mother misses you. Your sisters too. Simon missed you. But I’m sure he has told you by now. Or not, we both know how he can be.”
“I.. I miss you too, Kyle. I would’ve loved for you to follow my footsteps.” John sighs again. “Simon couldn’t cope, but you already know that. Take care of him, yeah? I know he probably doesn’t want it, but he missed you and Johnny.”
John gives a final pat on the gravestone. “I’ll come back, I promise.”
He takes the third bouquet, a large bouquet of sunflowers, it is being put down on the newest gravestone. “Fucking hell, Simon.” He grunts. “Out of all people, I never thought you would do it. I thought I had it under control with you.”
“At least you had a smile on your face, and I wonder what went through your mind in your final moment.” A sad smile forms on John’s face. “I hope you’re at peace now.”
“Out of all their deaths, yours haunts me the most, Simon.” He confesses. “Because with yours it felt like I really could have changed the outcome, you know.” John kneels down next to the grave.
“I.. I.. I never got to say this Simon, but I am sorry that I compared you to your father. I was trying to get my point across and I’ve used words that I shouldn’t have used. I knew it was a low blow to mention him, and I’m sorry.” He rests his hand on the gravestone. “I hope my words didn’t push you over the edge, and I know you have made that little note for me, but I can’t help but feel guilty.”
John sighs once more, looking at the sunflowers on the ground. “I.. You didn’t have a home I could send you too, like Kyle, so I’ve spread your ashes on the same spot where we send Johnny home. I hope you’re okay with it.” He adds, with a meek smile.
“You’ve been one of the toughest people I’ve ever known in my life, and I’ve met a lot of tough motherfuckers, Simon. But you? You’ve bounced back from everything.”
“And no matter how guilty I feel, the fact that you had a smile on your face brings me a little bit of peace.”
“I hope that wherever you are, that you found your people again in the afterlife. That there will be enough souls waiting for you, to show you how loved you’ve always been.” John gets up from his knees again. “Don’t try to give the other too much shit, but keep them in check for me, yeah?”
He let his gaze fall on the three graves in front of him, a sad smile on his lips once more. His hand goes to the dog tags around his neck, there are too many to just be from one person. His gaze lingers on the names engraved in the stones.
John MacTavish
Kyle Garrick
Simon Riley
“It has been an honour. An honour to have known you all, an honour to have fought alongside you. The biggest honour has been to call you all my brothers in arms.” His voice is clear, never wavering as he pays his final respect, as he says his final goodbye.
“I promise you three that I’ll keep your graves in check, for as long as I live. I don’t care if they’re empty, they will forever be a reminder that you have all existed. Your legacy will live on.”
“I miss you all, until we meet again.”
After a final salute he picks up the last of the bouquets and the picnic baskets, and he walks further up the cemetery, walking past a grave that reads Herschel Shepherd. John gives the grave a quick nod. “You make me wish hell did exist.” He grumbles, flipping the headstone off. “Should’ve done it earlier.”
He continues to walk until he reaches another grave, putting down the picnic basket and the flowers, before he kneels down again, taking out a brush to gently sweep away any dirt.
Jenny Price
“I’m back again, love.” He sighs, as he tidies up the grave, making sure to pull the weeds, but leave the flowers that have grown intact. “It has been a while since I’ve visited, but I have a good reason, I promise.” He added with a chuckle.
He gets up after the stone is clean again, her name can be read again, and he takes a step back to admire his work. “Got you all cleaned up. Looking pretty as ever.”
He opens the picnic basket, taking out a blanket to lay it on the ground next to the stone. A bouquet of heliotropes, forget-me-nots and carnations. John sits down on the blanket, next to the gravestone.
“Next month..” He sighs, something he has done a lot this evening. “Next month, you’ll be gone for fourteen years now, Jen. And I still miss you as if it is the first day.”
He rests his head against the stone. “I miss the boys.” He whispers, almost as if he is afraid to confess it to her. “Blaming myself for it too. If you see them, take care of ‘m for me, please. Show them the love you’ve shown me.”
He takes out a small bottle of wine, and a cigar, leaving the picnic basket open. “I can only hope that Death guided them, the way you have been guided.”
“It’s been nearly fourteen year, love, and I still wake up in the middle of the night, searching for you, hoping you’ve just been in the bathroom and you’ll come back to lay next to me. I would give everything, Jen, and I mean everything, to just hold you once more, to feel your soft skin against mine again.”
“Being a captain, having my own taskforce, it all means less when I can’t share it with you. It all means so little, knowing that I won’t be able to hold you again, to hear your sweet voice ever again.” John opens up the bottle of wine he had brought, taking out the cork before he takes a swig, not bothering to take a glass. “You know.” He chuckled softly. “If I close my eyes and focus really hard. I can even hear you scold me again for drinking wine straight out of the bottle.”
“I finally had an orange again.” He mutters. “They apparently make special tools to help you peel them. So I can finally eat them again. It has been fourteen years, and I finally had an orange again.” He shakes his head. “I cried. I cried while eating it, the taste reminded me so much of you, the scent of the peel almost intoxicating. I remember how your hands would smell like orange the whole day after you’ve peeled mine. And I miss it, Jen. Fuck, I miss it so much.”
He falls silent, a stark contrast with the floodgates of words that spilled over his lips just seconds ago. His voice cracking when he speaks again. “It has always been you.”
“No other woman comes even close to you. It is weird, but I don’t even want another woman, I don’t feel the need to see someone, feel someone. Hell, I prefer to lay alone in that large bed, because when I fall asleep, you’re waiting for me in my dreams. You’re there, waiting for me to come home again.”
You’ve been watching him, while you sat on the nearby bench. Jenny Price. You remember reaping her soul, her husband had walked in on you, and he was the first mortal to see you, and to live to tell the story. But John kept it hidden, maybe that is why he had grown so strong, so tough, because he knew that death wouldn’t be an ugly thing, but an old friend waiting for you to come home again.
You’ve seen enough, as you get up from the bench. His time isn’t there yet, and you have enough to do anyway. Your gaze lingers on the captain, his head resting on the gravestone, his eyes closed as he brings up the memories he has with his late wife. It has become routine for him at this point, talking to her after a mission, visiting her whenever he could, keeping her grave as clean as he could. But for now you let him be. He deserved to have this little peace of mind before he would get sucked into the chaos of his day to day life.
Life goes on for the both of you, you have been reaping souls, he has been doing missions, neither of you meeting, although you take away the lives he has ended.
But his end is near, creeping up behind him, lurking in the shadows. Maybe he could feel it, maybe it was the universe apologising for taking away his wife, for taking away his teammates, but John finds himself at the cemetery again, talking to his old teammates, making sure that the weeds have been pulled, the flowers are fresh again. He updates them on his life, on the missions.
“We’ve done it.” He sighs, to no grave in particular. “We found Makarov. And I’ve put a bullet between his eyes, Johnny. Made sure he knew it was in your name. You should have seen the look on his face.”
And you remember, taking Makarov’s soul, it was safe to say the Rus was less than pleased, especially that John took his soul.
“Your mom is doing well, Kyle. She is still grieving as much as a mother does, but she is doing well. She finally got you that golden retriever you wanted as a kid. Named it Gaz, in your honour. Your sister graduated from her studies. She made sure to mention you in her speech. You would be so proud, Kyle.”
“And Simon, we have a mental health program dedicated to you, making sure that we can talk more open on base about mental health. So we can prevent that others feel the need to do what you did. You’ll live on.”
He moves on, once more laying out the blanket next to the grave of his late wife, sitting down next to her again. “There we are love.” He said with a grunt, lighting his cigar.
His gaze falls on the sky, looking at the setting sun. “You’re looking beautiful tonight.” He tells her. “I like it when you paint the sky orange. I never realised orange was my favourite colour until I found you in the sky every day.”
Maybe he could feel it, maybe your presence was looming to much on a cemetery. But John closes his eyes, breathing in the cold air into his lungs. He opens his eyes, seeing you in front of him.
“It is good to see you again, old friend.” He says.
“Hello.”
“Oh, you can skip the formalities.” He grunts. “I always thought I would die on the battlefield, not next to Jenny.”
“It has become a full circle, she passed in your arms, you will pass next to her gravestone.”
His eyes flash dark when he is reminded of how his wife had passed. “I never got to thank you for guiding Jenny.”
“It is what I do.”
“I know, but still. She was so scared, and you took that fear away.”
“I am glad that I could do it.”
“So, it is my time then.”
“Mhm, it is your call.” You respond. “But it will happen within the next few minutes.”
“Hm.” He answers with a murmur, as he rests his head against her gravestone again. “Wake me up when it’s done.”
You take place on the bench again, watching his chest rise and fall with every breath, his breathing turning steady as he falls asleep next to her gravestone. Sleeping together one last time.
You’re a patient creature, you have all the time in the world, so you wait, wait until his chest stops, until his heart stops beating. Before you can say a thing his soul leaves his body. John doesn’t talk to you yet, instead, he looks at his body, resting against the gravestone of his late wife.
“What a sight.” He sighs, turning to you.
And you just nod.
John turns to you. “I imagine that I also get to ask some questions before you bring me to the afterlife.”
“Anything you wish.”
John’s soul walks over to the bench you’re sitting on, having a view of the graves of his teammates and his late wife. “Do you think I am a bad person?”
“I am in no position to answer that question. For me and Life there is no such thing as a good person and a bad person. You all just exist with free will, and it is up to you how you use it.”
“If you were human, you would be a politician.” John snickers at his own joke.
You let out a sound that represents a huff. “Is this you calling me a bad person?”
“Only if you would be a British politician.”
“I would rather stay Death.”
He looks at the upcoming moon. “Did you guide my teammates too?”
“All of them.”
If he would be still alive he would be releasing a breath. “Glad you did.”
“They all wanted to know how you would cope.”
“They did?”
“Mhm.”
“Guess they cared more than I thought.”
“Of course they did.”
“Why was Simon smiling?”
“Why would I have something to do with it?”
“Because I know you wouldn’t have want him to die alone.”
“That much is true. I asked him his favourite memory. So he could die thinking about something happy.”
“And Kyle’s mother told me he has tried to call her and left a voicemail, I assume that is your doing too?”
“Correct.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Kyle’s upbringing was different from Simon’s.”
“As Death I do not discriminate, between the sinners and the saints. Life can be difficult and unfair enough. Why would I make their process of dying hard too?”
“That.. I.. I never thought about it that way.”
“I had no reason to grand you and Jenny some more time together, I had no reason to explain the afterlife to her, or to answer her questions about dying. Yet I did. Just like the universe does not need reasons to allow events in someone’s life to happen.”
“I see. Well, I think it is beautiful.”
John looks at his body, limped against the gravestone of his late wife.
“How did I die?”
“Your heart gave out.”
“Guess all those years of cigars, whiskey and stress finally caught up on me.” He chuckled. “I never noticed anything though, I mean I’ve been a little tired lately, but thought that was just the stress.”
You just tilt your head.
“Oh.”
“Heart diseases are something else.” You sigh. “A silent killer.”
“Learned that the hard way.”
His gaze shifts from his body to the gravestone next to him and he holds out his hand.
“As much as I liked seeing you again old friend, I am ready to go home, for the first time in fourteen years.”
210 notes · View notes
etheries1015 · 5 months
Note
Yk throughout Lilia's past thing I wonder why in the old OLD wars people don't use verbal bullying as a weapon- Killing is already included in physical bullying so why not go all out?
Imagine past Lilia with this one friend aka you who fights the annoying humans with money, curses, and (out of pocket) words instead of the traditional going to war way. Verbal bullying can reduce the enemy's morals (probably).
"Instead of worrying about our MoRaLs, why don't you start worrying over YOUR DRIER THAN THE AFTERGLOW SAVANNAH SCALP"
"Our ruler's temper isn't too good, but that kingdom's ruler is bad tempered AND ugly"
"If yall didn't stink so much, maybe the faes wouldn't have found you so easily"
Also
You: You should watch your steps, the floor of this mansion is slippery after all :)
Enemy: Is that a veiled threat?
You: What veil?
People say that the place where faes live are surrounded by thorns, but you have thorns in your mouth ;)
NO BUT THIS IS SO FUNNY. Instead of using your incredibly impressive fighting skills (Lilia has seen firsthand) you first choose the most outrageous and...unique insults and strategies he had ever heard and seen his entire life. Sometimes Lilia can't tell if you are truly affected by the fighting, or if you had gone simply insane and cannot feel complex emotions; numb, to be frank. Upon asking you such questions, In response you shared to your comrades; "Some people cope by sadness and despair, others cope by humor and lightheartedness. I choose the latter- for I would rather live my life smiling at the most ridiculous of things than sit in a puddle of my own tears and trauma."
Thus, you delve deep into the theatrics as a way to distract yourself from the true horror of things.
"Dang, you really went to war looking like THAT? Even I would pity you, and that says a lot!"
"You have the intelligence of a soggy piece of bread! Didn't you hear ANYTHING about subtly?"
"Oh yeah, you're definitely first to die in any scenario. You check all the boxes. I'm surprised you haven't managed to kill yourself by now! Congrats!"
"You're living proof that you do not need to be funny to be considered a clown!"
"damn, human AND ugly? Pick a struggle, to have both is truly a crime!"
I imagine that this MC really enjoys distracting people with long winded prologues or speeches. With fake tears in their eyes, sobbing in front of a wave of humans with their arm up to the sky-
"I would like to thank my mother for this grand opportunity, my pet snake, and my dear beloved and far too soon departed friend Lilia-"
you hear from a distance an annoyed fae yell "I'm not dead!"
you ignore him.
"And to all of you, my grand audience, for granting me this wonderful chance to demonstrate what it truly means to be ignorant."
Confused glances around the humans- before collective screaming as they are all falling into a pit that you lead them to. Lilia catches up to you and stares at the handful of human soldiers who fell into your trap with hands resting on his hip and raised eyebrows, glancing over at you impressed.
"Clever, yet...strangely obtuse. Good distraction, it's almost embarrassing to call you one of our strongest generals with your antics..." He hummed before his face taking a flat and annoyed look as you reveled dramatically in his praises.
"Why can't you be normal."
Reader being incredibly childish yet super clever like Clavis from ikemen prince and the personality of Furina from Genshin impact SDLOIHLJ
254 notes · View notes
profound-imagination · 3 months
Text
Before You Go - Fenrys Moonbeam
A/N: I’m so freaking proud of this fic I hope you love it! Also I’ve tried my hand at a lil smut so please feel free to give constructive criticism!
T/W: Maeve, Smut, Vision of Maeve & Fenrys, Angst, Death - I think that’s it! Let me know if I’ve missed any!
W/C: 5K
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
100 Years Ago:
“You did what?!” You seethed at the White Wolf who was looking anywhere but at you. “I swore a blood oath…to Maeve.” The words hit you like a physical blow and tears lined your eyes. “Why…why would you do that?” You asked, swallowing the lump in your throat. He looked at you then, his face shuttering as he took in your unshed tears. “For Connall, the things she makes him do, Y/N, I can’t, I can’t allow it.” You sighed, heart breaking as you looked at the Male in front of you, your mate. Not that he knew, if he did he hadn’t told you, just like how you hadn’t told him. “He’ll resent you for taking his place, Fen, he came to visit, while you were gone with your elite force, he seemed happy.”
You’d grown up with the twins, your parents serving under theirs but there was always something about Fenrys, something that pulled you in. They were five years older than you and you’d put it down to a school girl crush. Connall hated it. He didn’t speak to you for 2 years after he confessed his feelings for you on your 18th birthday. You had just looked helplessly at his twin and he had known then, had understood there was something unspoken between you and his brother. It infuriated him. Connall had always felt lesser than his twin, who was favoured by their father and now by you, it seemed. “I can’t let her have him like that, Connall deserves a true and pure love, not this.” You scoffed, “What, so it’s better for you to be her whore instead?” You spat, his eyes hardening at your words, “Tell me, will you be allowed to leave her chambers? To be the warrior you always wanted to be or will you be leashed to her bed like the dog that you are?”
Anger rolled off of him in waves as he took a step back from you, “That’s enough.” He said quietly but you were so past trying to understand his reasoning. “Maybe he loves her, Fen? Did you think of that?” He scoffed this time, “Even if he does, she doesn’t and won’t ever love him back, she’s incapable of it.” You put your hands on your hips, “So what now? You’ve come to say goodbye? Tell me I’ll never see you again?” His face softened as your voice cracked. “You’ll see me again, but yes, I came to say goodbye.” Anger was still coursing through your veins as you said, “You better go then, your shackles on her bed are waiting. Goodbye, Fenrys.” You turned and walked away, you didn’t look back.
85 Years Ago:
The first ten years without the twins, without Fenrys, had been hard. You’d lost your parents to one of Maeve’s many wars, the twins' parents only just making it back themselves. They had taken you in, despite the fact you were an adult and your own parents had left you more than enough. It was like their mother knew this would be the final blow for you and she refused to let you fall into your despair. She’d moved you into Fenrys’ room, “So you’re here when he comes back,” she had said, “A mate's presence heals most things, even if they're not physically here.” You didn’t know how she knew nor did you ask at the time as you crawled into his bed and slept for days.
Fenrys sent everything he was feeling down the mating bond unknowingly. You could stop him from feeling your feelings which you’d been actively doing since it snapped for you but you couldn’t block his. The hatred, the anger, the sadness, the submission, the pleasure. It made you physically sick. Sometimes, when his emotions were particularly high, you saw it all as well, through his eyes. You’d never forget that first time.
Maeve on top of him, her naked form grinding in his lap. “What’s the matter little pup?” She taunted from above him, “Performance nerves?” He was panicking, you could feel the panic coursing through him, the dread that if he didn’t perform she’d bring Connall in here instead. She scraped her nails down his chest, “You really are pretty for a dog, Fenrys.” She crooned, rolling her hips again, “I can help you enjoy it and perhaps eventually you’ll learn to enjoy it on your own.” She leant forward and kissed up his neck, her canines scraping as she went, disgust shot through him as one hand wrapped around his throat and the other slid towards his cock. “Enjoy it.” She whispered seductively in his ear, “You want me, Fenrys, you want this.” She sucked on his earlobe and the disgust started to dissipate, replaced by lust. “You want to fuck me, to satisfy me.” She continued as his cock stiffened in her hand. She dragged herself up his body, until she had a leg on either side of his head. “Go ahead pup,” she crooned, “eat.”
You witnessed the whole thing. She had ridden him until she was satisfied and when he was spent she sent him away like he was nothing. The last thing you saw when Fenrys opened her chamber door was Connall on the other side, betrayal like nothing you’d ever seen written across his face. You’d thrown up until your body had given out and you moved out of his room and his parents house the next day.
This went on for ten years until you’d had enough, you couldn’t take it anymore, feeling what he was feeling, witnessing it. You had amassed the funds your parents had left you and ventured to Doranelle, for an audience with the Queen. You smoothed down the skirts of your dress as you waited to be called into her throne room. Fenrys was here and nearby, you could feel the bond coming to life and singing that its counterpart was close. A guard approached and nodded for you to follow him, so you took a deep breath and did just that. It’s for the twins, you told yourself over and over again as you rounded the corner and took in Maeve sitting upon her stone throne, two wolves sat either side, one white, one black, both of their ears shot up and their eyes widened as they took you in. A white tailed hawk sat above her right shoulder, a massive Osprey sat above her left. In one of the alcoves close to the throne stood the biggest male you had ever seen and another male with golden hair and tattoos.
“You asked for an audience?” Maeve asked, her voice sounded bored and uninterested. You bowed as low as you could before speaking, “Yes your majesty, thank you for granting my wish.” You said, your voice sounding stronger than you felt, she waved a hand for you to continue. “I have come to ask if you will allow me to buy the wolves out of their servitude? They are needed at home but of course majesty I understand they are of great importance to you so I offer all that I have, including myself, in their stead.” Maeve tilted her head in consideration. Connall was staring at his queen, but Fenrys, Fenrys was staring at you, a sadness in his eyes, a desperation telling you to take back your offer and run.
Maeve tipped her head back and laughed, she laughed like you had told the best joke she had ever heard and as quickly as she laughed, it ended. The Fae Queen leveled you with a look, “No.” You stepped forward, Connall bared his teeth and let out a warning growl that shocked you to your very core. “But, I-“ the Queen cut you off, “I said no, like you pointed out, girl, they are of great importance to me and this one,” she said, placing a hand on Fenrys’ head, “He pleases me ever so well, so no, girl, I’ll keep them both, leave.” Your mouth dropped open and Maeve sighed, “Lorcan, see our guest out.” The giant of a male stepped towards you and Fenrys whined his protest, “Hush, pup, get upstairs.” Maeve commanded and you were escorted out with a feeling in the pit of your stomach that you’d made everything worse for him.
A knock woke you from a fitful sleep. You hadn’t even made it to your bed, you had passed out drunk on the sofa and you winced as the wine bottle rolled off of you and smashed on the floor. You’d deal with that in the morning you decided as you stumbled to the door and flung it open. A fae male with long silver hair and face tattoos stood on the other side, along with the golden haired male from earlier. “So she’s sent you to kill me then?” You asked as you turned and walked into the kitchen, leaving the door open for them to follow. “Drink?” You asked, pouring yourself a whisky and sliding the bottle and two glasses over to the other side of the table where they now stood. “I won���t fight you for my life,” you told them, “There’s nothing left of it anyway.” You said gesturing around the house.
The silver haired one snorted as he took in your home, “Wow, you really aren’t doing well without him are you?” The golden haired one hissed as he elbowed his friend, “Rowan!” He scolded. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m Gavriel and this is Rowan, we aren’t here to kill you, we’re here to help, sort of.” You raised an eyebrow, “Help? With what?” You questioned, “You feel him don’t you?” Rowan asked, “We can teach you to block him out, so you don’t feel him if you’re too much of a coward to tell him he’s your mate.” You crossed your arms over your chest, “You’re an asshole.” You told Rowan, Gavriel nodded his agreement, “An asshole I might be, but I’m trying to help you, do you know what she would’ve done if she realised what you were to him, to both of them?” You shrugged, “It isn’t fair that they are chained to her like that, it’s not fair to any of you, loyalty should be earned, not taken.” Gavriel sighed, “Let us help you.”
So you learned from them, well, from Rowan mostly, over an exhausting couple of days. Gavriel kept himself busy fixing whatever needed fixing in the house and tidying up so you had somewhere presentable to live. “Oh and one more thing,” Rowan said as they turned to leave that evening. He turned, producing a letter out of his satchel and you instantly recognised the scrawl on the envelope. “Keep those shields up, Y/N.” He said before walking out the door. Gavriel smiled kindly at you, “For what it’s worth, I think he regrets it, leaving you, everyday.” You sighed, “I was so mean the last time I spoke to him, I was angry and I didn’t mean any of it.” You said quietly, “I think he knows that too,” Gavriel said, “but I’ll make sure to tell him.”
You smiled at him softly, “Why did you both come to help me?” You questioned, Gavriel glanced outside and then back to you, “Rowan’s pregnant mate was murdered & I walked away from my mate and child because of the fear of Maeve, we don’t want the same for Fenrys, we’re quite keen on the pups and somethings Y/N, somethings are worth fighting for.” With that, he took your hand, kissed your knuckles and left.
You slid down the front door, pulled your knees to your chest and ripped open the letter Rowan had given you. There was such anger in Connall’s words, at you, at his brother. But there was also sorrow and a plea for you to never step foot in Doranelle again.
You spent the following weeks wondering if you’d be betrayed, but no one ever came for you.
50 Years Ago:
Gasping quietly you dropped the dishes you were washing in the sink with a splash, the bubbles splattering up your apron. You threw open the door to Rowan and the tall male you hadn’t met yet. “What happened?!” You snapped as you took in Fenrys hanging between them. “Move!” The tall male hissed as they shoved past you, “Clear the table!” Rowan commanded, panic seized you as you swept the table with your arm. “What happened?!” You snapped again and Fenrys groaned as they placed him more gently than you’d expected on the table. “He’s been testing the leash, stupid boy.” Your eyes snapped to the tall male, “Sorry, who the hell are you?” He didn’t even look at you as he grunted, “Lorcan.” You looked back down at Fenrys, “She did this to him?” Rowan looked at Lorcan who shook his head but Rowan answered you anyway, “Connall did.” Anger flooded through you, “Connall?!” Fenrys let out a wet, labored cough, “No,” he croaked. “She commanded it,” Lorcan drawled, “But he didn’t seem to hesitate or fight it.”
You watched quietly as the two warriors worked on Fenrys. Your entire body was tense. Fenrys had passed out 30 minutes ago, a blessing you supposed, that he couldn’t feel what they were doing as they were putting him back together. A shadow outside the window caught your eye and you stalked out the door. “You’ve got some nerve.” You spat at the Black Wolf who was sitting at the tree line of your property. “How dare you turn up here?!” With a flash the Black Wolf was a Male prowling towards you. “He’s my brother, I need to know if he’s okay.” You scoffed, “You did this to him!” You exclaimed, stepping up to him. “I didn’t have a choice!” You rolled your eyes, “They said you didn’t even hesitate or try to fight the order!” You watched Connall’s eyes shoot over your shoulder and then back to you. You felt Rowan at your back. “Are you here for you or for her?” He asked, his voice tight. “For him.” Connall snapped. Rowan nodded and beckoned him to follow. You huffed and followed the two males into your home, the tang of blood in the air.
They’d moved him to your bed when they’d patched him up. You had sat next to the bed, back rigid. Your eyes watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. Around 3am his eyes cracked open, finding you instantly in the darkness, “Am I dead? Is this heaven?” He rasped. You rolled your eyes, “No, you aren’t dead, they brought you here.” He nodded weakly. “Where are they?” He croaked, you handed him a glass of water, “Lorcan and Connall went back, Rowan’s flapping about outside.” You told him and he huffed a laugh then winced. “Stop it.” You scolded him.
You’d brought him some food and stuck your head out the door to let Rowan know he was awake before returning to Fenrys. “How are you feeling?” You asked, “Why are you doing this? Helping?” He asked at the same time. “Because it’s you and I’m an idiot.” You muttered quietly. “It was stupid of you to come to Doranelle.” He said, “I’m not sorry.” You snapped. “Your brother nearly killed you today, he didn’t think twice about it, he just obeyed.” Your voice cracked and tears welled up in your eyes. Fenrys sighed, “It’s the blood oath, he didn’t have a choice.” You gave him a scathing look, “Get some rest.” You said, voice sharp and you turned to leave. “Hey?” You turned to face him, he held his hand out towards you, “Come here?” He asked, patting the space next to him. The bond was screaming at you to do so, to join him, to not leave him injured and alone in your room so you caved and crawled in next to him. “You know I love you right?” He asked into the darkness of the room. “Yeah, I know.” You answer, heart cracking because you knew he didn’t mean it how your entire soul craved him to mean it.
Now:
“What are you doing here?!” You span at the sound of his voice. “Fighting? We got the call.” You gestured at the battlefield that surrounded you. “You can’t be here!” He snarled, “Well I am! You snarled back. “Pup! We’ve got to go, you can fight with your girlfriend later!” Rowan shouted as he landed next to you, “Hi, Y/N.” You smiled at him, “Aedion is injured, get up to the battlements and see where you can help.” Rowan told you, you nodded at him and took off, Fenrys shouting after you.
You clung onto Aedion, tears in your eyes as Gavriel stepped through the gate. You’d grown to love Gavriel, he’d visited you every time he traveled past your home over the years, always stopping in for a cup of tea, you had your suspicions that he was reporting back to Fenrys but he’d become your friend either way. “Let him go, Aedion.” He fought against you, “He’s doing this for you, the only thing he feels he can do for you.” So the two of you watched as the Lion of Doranelle stood his ground as the gate shut him out.
It was over. It was won. You’d watched from the battlements as Fenrys delivered the killing blow to the tyrant Queen. Had watched them morn Gavriel from the outside while you quietly mourned the Wolf that was no longer with you. Aelin had approached you in the garden one evening, as you sat amongst the flowers, watching the sun disappear, talking to Connall as if he could hear you. “You’re staying.” A fact, a demand from your Queen, not a question. You looked up at her and she smiled, “Rowan’s not so good with the secrets.” You laughed as he huffed behind his wife. “He’ll need you.” You gave her a kind smile, “I doubt that, but if it’s what you wish for, your majesty, I will stay.” She gave you a look that said she knew she was right and turned to leave, “Actually, with your permission, there’s something I’d like to do.” Tears welled in Aelin’s eyes as you told her what you wanted, Rowan approached and smiled and put a hand on your shoulder, “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” He said, Aelin nodded her agreement.
Fenrys found you a week later. “What are you doing out here?” He asked, approaching you in the Royal Graveyard of Terrasen. You were knelt in the dirt, hands covered in it. Flowers surround you, Zinnias for remembrance and goodness, Yellow Carnations for friendship and gratitude, Violets for faithfulness and devotion, Anemones for protection and sacrifice and Daffodils for rebirth and hope. “He mentioned you had become friends over the years…” he trailed off, realising that it wasn’t Gavriel’s grave you were kneeling in front of. You looked at him over your shoulder, and then moved aside to reveal a gravestone, that simply read:
Connall Moonbeam
Brother
Friend
Beloved
Black Wolf of Doranelle
A raw, broken sound left Fenrys as he crashed to his knees at the sight of his brother's grave and you were there, next to him, holding him. “I thought it would be nice if we had somewhere we could talk to him.” You told him quietly as he sobbed into his hands. “He visits me in my dreams, the first time was the night he died. He came to me and told me what had happened. That you needed me. I set off the next day to find Aelin, to help however I could.” Fenrys fell into you, sobbing into your neck. “He kept me safe, when I slept rough, he’d tell me to wake up, to move.” You kept talking as Fenrys calmed slowly, “He had things left to say to me, we both cried as he told me he’d loved me once but he knew, had always known I’d belonged to his brother, that I had to find you, that you’d need me, that after everything, he’d get me to you safely, the last thing he could do for you.” You ran a calming hand down his back, “He had a message for you, he said he loves you, more than anything, he forgives you for everything and he’s sorry for his part, he said that it was meant for you, the dagger, but it was too far and he couldn’t allow it.” Tears were running down your face by the time you finished speaking. “If I could change it, if I could take his place so he could be here with you, I would, in a heartbeat, Fen.”
Fenrys remained quiet for a long time after you had told him everything. He clutched your hand like it was his tether to the earth. Finally he looked up at you, his onyx eyes meeting yours and you saw the exact moment he felt it too, the bond. You watched it wash over him, watched him figure out what it was he was feeling. “You…you’re…” you nodded at him, “Yes, I am.” He blinked, “How long have you known?” He croaked and you let out a humorless laugh, “A long time, Fen.” “How long?” He repeated, “Since before you swore the blood oath.” You admitted, “You’ve known for over 100 years that we’re mates and you never said anything?!” You opened your mouth to reply just as Rowan and Aelin approached, “We’ve all known Boyo, it was fairly obvious.” Aelin elbowed her husband. “You’ve done a wonderful job on Connall’s grave, Y/N.” She said, “I’m sorry I never got to know him.” She said to Fenrys, wrapping him in her arms. “He’d have loved you.” Fenrys mumbled and you and Rowan laughed your agreement.
Over the following weeks Fenrys started coming around more and more. Getting to know you again he’d said. You’d cried as Aedion swore his oath, took his birthright and Fenrys had laughed at you, wiped your tears and held your hand for the rest of the ceremony. “Dance with me?” He asked as the Coronation Ball went on and on. You smiled up at him and took his had, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor and into the first dance. Your body fit against his in the best of ways and from what you felt, he knew it too. It was on your third dance that he seemed to throw caution to the wind and his hand left your waist to cup your face as he brought his lips down to yours. It was like the world had gone silent. He pulled you impossibly closer to him as his kisses descended down your neck. “Let’s get out of here.” He spoke against your neck, “Please?” You begged him. He smirked at you as he pulled you towards the doors.
The two of you only made it a few corridors at a time before you were swept up in kisses and touches again. By the time you were halfway to his room, you realised, he was carrying you, your legs wrapped around his waist, dress up around your hips, his hands on your ass, groaning at the feel of it, of the feel of your teeth against his neck. “Fuck it.” He growled three corridors away from his room as he pinned you against the wall with his hips and pulling the top of your dress down. He groaned as he took in the sight before him and ground his hips into yours causing you to moan. He lowered his head, kisses starting at your neck, trailing down to your chest where he worshiped each breast and nipple, the sensations causing you to writhe against him.
“Can you be quiet for me?” He asked, pulling away from your chest. You nodded eagerly as he sank to his knees, anticipation tightening in your stomach as he threw your legs over his shoulders, his head disappearing under the skirts of your dress. Kisses began traveling up your legs, “No underwear?” He mumbled more to himself than to you as his mouth neared to where you wanted it the most. His tongue licked a broad stripe and you jerked at the sensation, letting out a loud moan. “What did I say about being quiet?” He teased as he head appeared from under your skirts before going right back to where it was before. Your fingers scrambled for something to grab onto and settled for the of your dress that was covering his head as he sucked on your clit, waves of pleasure zinging up and down your spine.
“Please, please, please” you were begging as that familiar coil started to tighten in your stomach. “Please what?” He asked against your clit, the words vibrating beautifully. “Tell me what you want love?” He asked, nipping at your thigh. “Make me cum, Fen, please I’m so close.” You whimpered as he started his minstrations again. Two calloused fingers pushed into you and you threw your head back into the wall, his lips still sucking at you. “Plea-“ your begging was cut off as his fingers curled and hit that perfect spot and the coil in your stomach snapped and you and the world fell apart as your orgasam ripped through you. He kept going, drawing it out as long as he could.
His smirk was feline when he emerged from your dress and set your shaking legs back on the ground. You threw yourself at him so hard he stumbled back into the opposite wall as he caught you. You began attacking his neck with kisses, teeth scraping along his throat as you pulled his shirt out of his trousers and tried to undo the buttons. “Take me to bed. Now.” You breathed against his ear and he froze. Completely froze. His arms dropped away from you and his whole body was ridgid. You pulled away from him, realising quickly what had happened and your heart threatened to disintegrate at that haunted look in his eyes.
“Fenrys?” It was like he couldn’t hear you. Whatever memory of Maeve he was reliving had trapped him and you weren’t sure how to get to him. You had just began to panic when Chaol and Yerene walked down the hallway, “Get Aelin, now!” You snapped at Chaol as Yerene stepped towards him. “Don’t!” She stopped dead and looked at you. “I don’t know what he’s reliving and how he’ll be when he comes out of it, you’re with child.” You said more gently and she nodded in understanding, “Go with Chaol, bring Rowan too!” She nodded as she ran to catch up with her husband. “Fen, please, come back to me.”
Footsteps rushed down the hallway and then Aelin was there, Rowan next to her. Lorcan behind him. Chaol and Yerene behind him. You knew you didn’t fit this picture, this group. So you watched, back against the wall Fenrys had just had you against as the Queen of Terrasen pulled your mate back after you had failed to do so. His eyes cleared and darted around the hallway, he smiled down at Aelin and Rowan clapped him on the shoulder. Lorcan, Chaol and Yerene departed back to the ball as the Queen and King spoke with their Emissary, their friend & you turned and fled. You had done that to him, you were no better than Maeve.
“I don’t know how to do this.” You sobbed, “I don’t know how to be what he needs.” The gravestone didn’t answer. “I wish you were here, Con.” You told him, “It’s not right without you and I keep messing everything up.” You let out some more sobs as Fenrys’ haunted face flashed through your memories again. Twigs breaking behind Connall’s grave had your head shooting up & there he was, your White Wolf. “I’m sorry, Fen, so unbelievably sorry.” You told him as he prowled over to you.
He approached, studying you and your tears, then licked a great stripe right up the side of your face, which caused you to snort in disgust and then laugh. Fenrys huffed out a sound that you assumed was as close to a laugh as he could do as a wolf and then he curled himself around your back, and a contented rumble left his chest as you leant back on him. “I’m sorry I put you back there, I’ll be more careful with my words next time.” You said quietly. He huffed again, nuzzling his face into your side, a feeling of warmth, thanks and understanding filled your chest and you knew it was him. “Can we stay out here with Connall tonight?” You asked, he nodded and put his head down on a massive paw, leaving the other for you as you curled up into his fur. “I love you, Fen.” You mumbled sleepily, “I have for most of my life.” You felt the moment he shifted, arms wrapping around you and pulling you into his chest, “I love you too.” He said, kissing the top of your head.
Connall Moonbeam smiled down at the sight of his twin brother and his best friend, curled up together by a grave that he was not in. It didn’t matter, they had honored him with it anyway. They continued to honor and remember him for the rest of their lives, especially on the day their son was born and they gave him the name Connall Gavriel Moonbeam. Gavriel clapped a hand on his shoulder as he walked away from him, into the arms of the mate he’d been missing for so long. Connall smiled down at his brother and his family one last time and followed Gavriel and his mate into the light, there would be no more dream visits, he had nothing more to offer his friend, besides, he’d see them both again some day.
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starwrighter · 8 months
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I am not a baby!! (Yes you are)
(Ao3) (Masterpost) (Previous) (Next)
(Chapter 12 lets gooo!)
The audacity of this fish! Eyelids still heavy, brain still longing to go back to sleep. Shooting the meanest glare he could muster at the fish, hoping desperately that his displeasure would be received as intended. Untangling himself from the curtain, Danny rubbed his face. The folds of the fabric imprinted on his cheek leaving a pink mark that was quickly fading with his continued consciousness.
Danny pulled a peeper out of his makeshift freezer. Thankfully, it was still frozen. At least some aspects of his powers stayed the same. Sucking in a deep breath chilled water trickled through the gaps between his fingers, peeper going limp in his hands. His little workstation lacked a stove, a massive oversight on his part, but an understandable one since he didn’t have nearly enough materials to make a stable oven. The only thing he could make at the moment was an explosive hazard that’d cook anything in a five-foot radius to a charred crisp.
Charred Danny was a limited-time special dish, cooked via portal, and was unfortunately out of season forever. Like a discontinuation of tuna-flavored Oreos, nobody would be sad about it not being available. Surely, his fishy stalker would prefer him burnt like a marshmallow, but Danny isn't willing to indulge that preference. If he was going to be eaten, you bet your ass he’d be making this unpleasant for both of them.
Sheesh, he needed to find that guy's name. Or give him a new one. An insult wouldn’t do. Names had to mean something. This isn't a DND game, he can't just use a fantasy name generator and call it a day. No, this name had to be cool, not another “Inviso-Bill” scenario. His legs almost gave out in despair at the thought of being the one to give someone a name so stupid! He hadn’t done anything to deserve a punishment like that. Sure, his whole tapping routine was a migraine and a half, but he hadn’t done any harm. Even when Danny attacked him, he didn’t do anything, despite the fact he could’ve killed Danny with a single swipe from those razor-sharp claws.
Gritting his teeth at the thought of dying a third time in such an embarrassing way, he glanced down at the floppy fish still in his hands. Completely inedible, but Danny was getting pretty hungry at this point. Finding the strength to freeze the damn fish was difficult enough, he couldn’t just shoot lasers out his eyes and suddenly have a fully cooked peeper in his hands! All they had right now was the fabricator… Ugh, he scrunched his nose at the thought, but really, there were no other options for him at the moment. Oh, the ways humanity suffered for survival. Reluctantly giving the thawed peeper to cook, Danny began brainstorming names.
More information would be needed, he couldn’t just name him based on nothing! Swiping back to the fish guy’s databank, Danny studied it thoroughly. According to the PDA, this guy’s DNA was spliced, altered. Not in the getting electrocuted to death sense, but the genetically modified as an embryo kind of way. A perfectly functional hybrid between two unknown species that Danny guessed shouldn’t have been able to breed. But regardless, they came together to make this behemoth of a creature who looked as if he crawled through the deepest depths of hell just to scratch his freaking window.
!!!
He was going to call this guy Dami, short for damnation. It wasn’t an insult, it was cool! Danny would have died a third time to have been given a name as cool as that! Anything would’ve been better than Invis-o-bill. If Dami turned out to be the one who set up the ecto dampener he’d take back his cool nickname.
With a loud ding, Danny’s attention is brought back to his breakfast, now steaming at the fabricator. A small temperature warning flashed on his PDA the tablet setting a timer to let the fish cool down. If this had been any other food Danny might’ve been offended. The true way to eat something hot was to stuff it in your mouth and breathe out steam like a dragon while your taste buds burned! But this was fish, and a fish cooked by a fabricator no less. It was sure to taste like chemicals and Danny wasn’t looking to prolong the experience by choking on said chemical-tasting fish.
So he listened to the PDA if only to avoid a Skynet situation. It might just be data corruption but the AI seemed to be at the end of its rope. Remembering this AI had the choice to kill him with misinformation, messing with it further wasn’t the best idea. He’d toe the line of trolling, but ignoring it now felt like an invitation for it to short-circuit in his hands.
When the timer went off, Danny snatched the fish off the fabricator. The fish was still warm in his hands as he tore into it. Flaky, a faint, ashy aftertaste, barely noticeable if you hadn’t expected the off taste. Gutting the fish took away most of the artificial taste. Who knew vaporizing bones, organs, and tendons could fuck over any kind of palatability? Lasers sterilized the meat, giving it a hint of Space salmonella wasn’t a disease anyone was eager to catch. Maybe he’d get an award for his discovery but he’d rather not be sick with an alien infection when medical knowledge was as limited as it was now. Access to the intergalactic network was pretty much non-existent. They were out of the space confederation reach, meaning he was completely and utterly screwed if he caught anything serious.
What could bandages do for food poisoning? A whole lot of nothing, that’s what! They could only hope a doctor survived the crash and they could find them before any significant injuries happened. … Significant injuries to other survivors, that is. Danny’s going to fight a big ass fish!
Launching himself out the hatch seaglide in hand, Danny began circling Dami. His gigantic tail dragged against the sand, and he could only wonder how he got here in the first place. The shallows were too small for him to be a native. His body was built for the extreme pressures of water up to 8156 meters deep. His preferred environment should be as deep as deep should go. The probable pressure difference between the shallows and Dami’s home habitat was tremendous! It can't be healthy for him to be this close to the surface. Is this a beached whale situation? Did the crash damage his home?
With a databank incomplete, answering any important questions became increasingly difficult. Alterra’s handheld scanner was built to understand the basics. Deeper scans could show him the most complex parts of his biology. If he could build a beefier scanner, it would make things so much easier for him.  Designing a table was several difficulty levels below designing a scanner that could record a species' entire makeup at a molecular level.  Mistakingly blasting a poor, unsuspecting fish with radiation just to understand how this leviathan functioned would end poorly for both of them. It was easy for him to forget Dami's a teenager for his species. If he went around taking bone, blood, and muscle samples, not only would he feel bad but he'd probably be disemboweled by Dami's mom or Dad. While he's willing to throw hands with Dami, a 3v1 wouldn't be fair for the leviathans.  Observation was what his self-preservation limited him to, and if this species happened to be one who liked getting into fights? That was a free blood sample right there. All he had to do now was stop him from destroying the coral tubes
Danny darted underneath Dami’s tail, the fish jolting backward, pulling his tail with him. Gritting his teeth, Danny continued to chase Dami’s tail, bringing the large fish closer and closer to the deeper grassy plateaus. Like dancing, a swing from Danny's blade triggers his partner into the right moves. Of course, the right moves were away from his fucking base!  Dami might mean well, but in the end, he was scaring the bladderfish and destroying the shallows with his sheer mass!
Swinging one last time, Dami finally got the memo and swam a small distance away. Not quite close enough to see his entire base, but close enough for Danny to see him through the window. Like a kicked puppy, Dami rested his head on his arms. It almost made him feel bad, but the trail of uprooted plants and panicking fish the leviathan left in his wake canceled out any guilt.
“Caution. Continued degradation of the Aurora’s drive core may result in a quantum detonation. Continuing to monitor,”
…Shit.
@ashoutinthedarkness @avelnfear @meira-3919 @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @hugsandchaos @blep-23 @zeldomnyo @bytheoldwillowtree @justwannabecat @shepherdsheart @starlightcat04 @stargazing-bookwyrm @pupstim @dragongoblet @noxcheshire
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fdelopera · 4 months
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today i opened Elie Wiesel's second volume of portraits of 18th and 19th century Hasidic masters. and i came upon this story about Rebbe Pinhas of Koretz.
Wiesel's portraits continue to resonate through the years. and the wisdom they offer is more relevant now than ever.
as Wiesel says, "a good story in Hasidism is not about miracles, but about friendship and hope — the greatest miracles of all".
that's true of the Jewish community too. the Jewish community continues to be a place of friendship and hope in the face of darkness.
here is the full text of Wiesel's anecdote:
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One day, a young Hasid came to see Rebbe Pinhas of Koretz, known for his wisdom and compassion.
“Help me, Master,” he said. “I need your advice, I need your support. My distress is unbearable; make it disappear. The world around me, the world inside me, are filled with turmoil and sadness. Men are not human, life is not sacred. Words are empty — empty of truth, empty of faith. So strong are my doubts that I no longer know who I am — nor do I care to know. What am I to do, Rebbe? Tell me, what am I to do?”
“Go and study,” said Rebbe Pinhas of Koretz. “It's the only remedy I know. Torah contains all answers. Torah is the answer.”
“Woe unto me,” said the disciple. “I am unable even to study. So shaky are my foundations, so all-pervasive my uncertainties, that my mind finds no anchor, no safety. It wanders and wanders, and leaves me behind. I open the Talmud and contemplate it endlessly, aimlessly. For weeks and weeks I remain riveted to the same page, to the same problem. I cannot go farther, not even by a step, not even by a line. What must I do, Rebbe, what can I do to go on?”
When a Jew can provide no answer, he at least has a tale to tell. And so Rebbe Pinhas of Koretz invited the young man to come closer, and then said with a smile, “You must know, my friend, what is happening to you also happened to me. When I was your age I stumbled over the same obstacles. I, too, was filled with questions and doubts. About man and his fate, creation and its meaning. I was struggling with so many dark forces that I could not advance; I was wallowing in doubt, locked in despair. I tried study, prayer, meditation. In vain. Penitence, silence, solitude. My doubts remained doubts. Worse: they became threats. Impossible to proceed, to project myself into the future. I simply could not go on. Then one day I learned that Rebbe Israel Baal Shem Tov would be coming to our town. Curiosity led me to the shtibl, where he was receiving his followers. I entered just as he was finishing the Amida prayer. He turned around and saw me, and I was convinced that he was seeing me, me and no one else. The intensity of his gaze overwhelmed me, and I felt less alone. And strangely, I was able to go home, open the Talmud, and plunge into my studies once more. You see,” said ready Pinhas of Koretz, “the questions remained questions. But I was able to go on.…”
What did Pinhas of Koretz try to teach his young visitor? One: Not to give up. Even if some questions are without answers, go on asking them. Two: Doubts are not necessarily destructive — provided they bring one to a Rebbe. Three: One must not think that one is alone and that one's tragedy is exclusively one's own; others have gone through the same sorrows and endured the same anguish. Four: One must know where to look, and to whom. Five: God is everywhere, even in pain, even in the search for faith. Six: A good story in Hasidism is not about miracles, but about friendship and hope — the greatest miracles of all.
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carooosa · 3 months
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Bound by You: Love is Power, Love is Weakness
Part 3: Dissent
Part 2 Here
Word count: 1k Rating: Mature Pairing: Ascended Astarion x gn!AFAB Resist Durge/Reader Warnings: 18+ AO3 link: Dissent
Summary: Stressed from your duties, Astarion tries to help relieve your tension. It doesn't end well as he's forgotten something deeply important to you.
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You pace back and forth in your bedroom, shifting between holding your arms and biting your nails. The anniversary celebration was in a little under two months and there was still so much left to get done. 
“My treasure, if you keep worrying about this you’ll burden your beautiful face with wrinkles,” Astarion said casually as he read a book while sprawled out on your bed.
You ignore him, choosing instead to find your journal that contains some of your notes. Quickly flipping through the pages, you try to see if there’s anything you could work on right now. Your head is so buried in the notebook that you don’t notice your lover get up from the bed. 
He snatches the book out of your hand and teases you, “My love, weren’t you the one who said ‘no work in the bedroom’?” You try to get the journal back, but it’s all in vain. As soon as you reach for it, Astarion grabs your hand and twirls you around yourself until your back is pressed against his body, his arms wrapped around you. “You need to relax, darling. Your shoulders are tensed and your jaw is clenched. And whether or not you meant it, I can feel your stress.”
You feel guilt for a second as you remember that after Astarion turned you into his consort, you were both able to speak silently to each other. You were also able to feel any strong emotion from the other, whether that be lust, despair, or in this case, stress. The guilt lasts only a second as Astarion is part of the reason you’re so stressed to begin with.
“Good,” you say with a bite, “it’s your fault I’m feeling this way.”
He releases his hold on you and spins you around to face him, and you look to the side to avoid his eyes. “What do you mean my fault.” He hooks a finger under your chin and moves your head to be facing his but you avert your gaze. “Love,” he says with a gentle sternness, “when I said that you would never need to worry or want for anything again, I meant it. Yet now you’re saying that I’m the one causing you despair?”
You sigh and pinch your brows, finally meeting his eyes as your hand falls to your side. To any other person, it would look like he’s looking at you with care, but you’ve been with him long enough to know that the concern he shows is due to his insecurity as an overlord. He gave you everything you’d ever want and anything you ever could want. He tended to your needs and would sometimes indulge you with domestic intimacy — handholding, caresses, and cuddles — anything to keep you happy. Although it’s not perfect, it’s his way of showing you love, and you appreciate it all the same.
“The planners don’t take me seriously and we’re a tenday behind schedule.” As you say this, a flicker of confusion crosses his eyes before it’s gone, replaced with a calculated smile. 
He leads you towards the bed, throwing the journal off to the side. “Little love, everything will fall into place,” he says while placing chaste kisses along your neck. “You don’t need to worry about this. Who cares—”
You push him off of you and stare at him incredulously. “Who cares? I care, Astarion. This anniversary banquet will be the first time all our friends will have the time to be together in a long time.”
He scoffs as he readjusts his night clothes. “We can always figure out another time to have your friends visit us. Besides, 17 years is a weird time to have any anniversary.” As soon as he finishes the sentence, his eyes snap up to yours as he feels the sadness from you, watching the tears start to form in your eyes.
“You’re unbelievable,” you choke out. He takes a step toward you only for you to take 3 steps back. Had he really forgotten?
“What? It’s true. Usually, anniversaries are every 50, 10, or 5 years. I’ve yet to see a celebration for a 17th anniversary, but since you were so insistent on it…” Astarion trails off as his eyes glaze over as if he’s lost in thought. His eyes are staring deep into your soul as you silently cry. It takes too long for him to remember, and as soon as he does, he looks genuinely fearful. “Our annivers-” he gasps.
You cut him off, making your way towards the notebook. “I need to be alone right now.” You push past him as he stands unmoving, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Don’t follow me,” you say as you slam the door behind you.
You quickly run through the hall, ignoring the questions from the servants. You make your way into the morning room that was recently turned into your own personal parlor. When you suggested holding the event planning meetings in the library, Astarion scoffed and brushed aside your idea. The next day, the room that received the most sunlight was bustling with servants moving furniture around. “What would everyone say if they saw my consort sequestered in that dreadfully musty library? Now, everyone will see your striking beauty as you command the room.”
You shake off the memory and make your way to your seat. Papers are strewn about the table, half of them containing illegible scribbles. You sit down and immerse yourself in the work until the dawn light starts to seep into the room. You decide to rest your head for a bit, your cheeks stained with tear marks and your eyes sore.
When you awake, there’s a blanket draped across your body and a glass of water on the table. You gulp down the water and shrug off the blanket before making your way to your changing room. You aren’t sure what time it is, but it’s surely almost time to meet with the caterers to finalize the menu. As you leave the room, you quietly thank the servant standing on guard for the blanket and the water.
He bows his head as he replies. “My apologies, Lady Ancunin, but it was not my doing. The Lord ordered me to keep watch after leaving the room.”
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wisteriagoesvroom · 6 months
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promptfill for @clearlyclairesblog!
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P.s. I don’t know if this is the direction you wanted, but here is what I ran with…
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Mercado lestappen Rated G for general audience vibes (and a bit of angst) Minor mentions of drinking 1.2k words (Also readable on ao3)
The supermarket is playing a mariachi cover of a radio song that Charles doesn’t know the name of, nor does he particularly care to. In the last year since he’s been to Central America he’s been racing in what the newspapers would call “beautifully”, “at a level that hasn’t been seen in over seven years” — and if the Twittersphere is also to be believed, “b for big slay”. But apparently it still, still! isn’t enough to beat the number one two nights ago at the Autódromo.
Charles swats away the thoughts. This is not time to dwell on the bad race. He is here to try and forget the bad race. He rubs his eyes and holds a bottle of what he thinks is tequila, the words abstract on the amber bottle. The lights are too bright in here, and the aisles too colourful. Driving on the track suits Charles because he can expend his energy hyper focused on what he needs to do, where he needs to go. It gives his anxiety a channel of relief, where high octane and being rabbit-quick serves a glorious purpose.
Here, in the real world, sometimes he is not so sure.
There are too many soda options that could go with the bottle that he's holding. (It behooves him, a son of Monaco, to at least have some kind of chaser. To keep this nominally classy, to make this self-pity show not entirely pathetic. Even Charles when sad has standards. Maybe grapefruit jarritos would make a good accompaniment for tequila and depression?)
Andrea would probably kill him, but whatever. There’s a reason Charles left the whole team at the hotel, wandered off with a cap and big hoodie in search of quiet time. Besides, abstinence from indulgence, in all its forms still hasn’t gotten Charles any further in the standings compared to last year. So he deserves a little boozy soda, non?
Of course, to add insult to injury, Max Verstappen’s face stares at him from a can of Red Bull. And of course Charles can’t help but laugh. Of all the endorsements in the world, of all the people to see now, it is the cause of his despair, Satan on hot wheels himself who deigns to make an appearance to haunt him in the Fresko.
That is what breaks him. It starts as a giggle, ends with his face buried in his hands, and Charles wonders what the world would make of him having un petit meltdown in the middle of a suburban supermarket.
“What the hell?”
The voice knocks him right off kilter. He would know that voice anywhere. No, it could not be.
But when Charles looks up, there he is. His rival, in the flesh. Equally in a cap and dark hoodie, holding a loaf of bread and a six-pack of Corona under one arm.
“Is that bread?” Charles says. He doesn’t know what to say, really. They do not share much off the track, him and Max. They live in the same city, but don’t cross paths. They are born sixteen days apart, but besides racing have almost nothing in common. They carted together for over a decade, fought in F1 together for almost another more and somehow Max has over quadruple the WCs and Charles has nothing to show for it except a couple of podiums, and maybe a lot of shame. (He tries not to think too much about the shame.)
Max, to his credit, doesn’t seem particularly ruffled about any of this. These days, Max has mellowed out, grown from defensive boy to assertive man, relaxed in his shoulders, laughs a little more easily. In contrast Charles finds himself trying not to sink into his car, to tell himself to smile more genuinely for the cameras that are now starting to feel more and more like a burden rather than anything fun, because years of expectation and being told you’re a winner, and for it to never be true, can gnaw at your self-esteem like that.
Slightly further down the aisle from him, Max tilts his head. “I was hungry.”
“That’s fair.”
“And thirsty.”
“Me too.”
Charles doesn’t miss the way Max’s eyes flick down to the shopping basket and back up.
“That bad, huh?”
That bad? Charles fumes to himself. Max doesn’t know what it’s like, he couldn’t possibly imagine what it’s like, to always be second, to aim for something and fight for it so hard, only for it to still fall out of reach—
“You raced really well.” Max says, factually. As if the sky were blue, as if the supermarket did not at all intellectually or spiritually affect his cognitive functions like it already has thrown Charles for a loop. Max pronounces his assessment as if it were an absolute, which is Max’s power, you see. To take destiny by it’s teeth and force it to heel.
“Evidently, what I did was not enough.” Charles says.
“You took every line that was needed.”
“I did.”
“Your tyre management has been the best I’ve ever seen it.”
“Thanks. But you were better.”
“Yes. I’m not going to apologise for that. You know well, how it is.”
Charles laughs, low, a little bitter. Yes, he does know well, how it is. “The rest of us are mice. Scrambling around the ankles of an elephant.”
Max, for his part, seems to chew on this. Shifting the bread a little higher in the crook of his elbow, eyes glancing but not really looking at the cans in the aisle. The music plays on for a few moments in the background, a cheery tune with lots of fast strumming. It’s a minor miracle that they’ve not been spotted, but this late at night, it seems the only person around is the disinterested cashier who is filing her nails at the checkout.
Somewhere in the distance the cashier coughs. Max taps the side of his thigh with his index finger, once, twice. Neither of them seems to know what to say.
Finally, Max yanks a Red Bull can off the shelf, closes the distance, and drops it right into Charles’s basket. This close, Charles can see the proud tilt of Max’s chin, the brown flecks in the other man’s eyes.
“A chaser.” Max says. Both of them aware of the double meaning. The drinks, their history.
Charles swallows. So fine, maybe it because it’s 2am, or maybe it’s the desperation. Here, face to face with Max, away from the cameras and the rest of the world, they can slow their strange dance, and Charles is able to say what he has really wanted to say. He wills it into his mind with more iron and fury than he truly feels.
“I will beat you one day, you know.”
His blood swims with it. He wills it to settle, to become familiar with the feeling, asserting himself in this way, speaking what he really means.
In turn, Max smiles. Genuine, this time, crinkling to the corner of his eyes. The rare ones he grants to the rest of the competitors on the couch after a good race, when he’s come off the track with fantastic pace. The one he has when he waves to his nephews.
Max doesn’t back off at all. He leans even closer. (Charles could count every lash. Tucks it away somewhere secret, somewhere with sharp edges that he can’t look too closely at, yet.)
“Absolutely, Charles.” Max says, all conspiratorial. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
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