#the anger and frustration has been cycling faster and faster in my heart and i want to Hurt Things but there's nothing im allowed to hurt

[orcelito]

perhaps also related to the fact that i am scheduled to close this weekend with the person who was apparently laughing about how a year ago there was a supervisor chat without me Specifically for the purpose of shit talking me

and im supposed to treat her graciously after that? get Fucking real.

#speculation nation #negative/ #like. i will. i'll treat her politely as is expected of me working with someone i dont like #even though that wasn't a courtesy extended to me by the people last year. including her apparently! #i dont know why she's come back. i want to gut her like a fish. #i dont think i mentioned that but i learned a few weeks ago that she was laughing about this to a few employees #who called her out for it. which makes me feel very grateful to them. #how fucking immature though. resorting to bullying and ostracizing in a workplace environment. #this was the bullshit that had me fucking Sobbing bc of it all. and you're Laughing about it? #you saw the day that girl screamed at me & how i cried for a half hour straight in storage #until i finally pulled myself together enough to work (though i was still next to tears for Hours) #me. a person who cries Maybe 4 times a year. if even. it had me struggling that hard to not cry. #and this is Funny to you? it's Funny that i was treated like that? just because you all didnt like me bc i was Too Confrontational? #a: im as confrontational as i need to be to avoid problems festering. as a grown fucking adult should be. #and b: even if you didnt like me that's still fucked UP #what the fuck is WRONG with you people??????? why do you take so much glee from my pain? #and again. in a fucking place of work. i know it's food service but Please. have some basic fucking professionalism. #i dont know how im supposed to get through this shift. im so fucking angry at it all. #the anger and frustration has been cycling faster and faster in my heart and i want to Hurt Things but there's nothing im allowed to hurt #so what am i to do? how do i get rid of this feeling? i know what ive done in the past but im not allowed to do that now #with nothing to do im just blasting this fucking song. maybe if i play it loud enough it'll fix me.

[katberk]

The Seven Stages of Grief

Tommyinnit x Reader

Genre: Angst

in-game au

The attack was something out of a movie. The way the withers destroyed everything in it’s path without remorse for the people, the screams of the panicked and afraid, and then a loud sob that rang through the air.

Tommy was there in the middle of the giant crater, hovering over your body with shacks to his own. “Y/N... wake up! Stop playing with me... jokes over!” His voice was low and in fear.

When his legs gave out he dropped to your side and cradled you in his scratched and blooded arms. “You’re alive, I just know it! You would never leave me!” His cry fell on deaf ears.

When the smoke cleared everyone was surrounding the edge with sorrow and tears. They lost a member that was the light of everyone’s life, their hope and encouragement... their friend and one, a sibling.

Still in the boys arms Tommy looked up to try and find the hybrid pig who started it all. Still clenching your dead body tightly he screamed in rage. “Technoblade! Where the fuck did you go?!”

“He’s gone Tommy... He left already.” Tubbo, Tommy’s best friend, Y/N’s brother, had tears cascading down his cheeks. “C-can I see them... please?” Tubbo looked petrified. Seeing his sibling dead was never in his mind, seeing his younger sibling lifeless with bruises and blood made him want to faint.

Without words Tommy gently laid them down so Tubbo could mourn. “I’m so sorry Y/N! I... I never meant for this to happen! I was suppose to protect you...I’m your older brother.” His sobs got loudly each word. The two boys surrounded by their also mourning friends hugged and cried at the lost of their fallen hope.

Life going on was going to be hell.

Shock and Denial

It’s been a couple of days since the end of the war. People were rebuilding and moving on quicker then some. The news that Wilbur was dead was also a turning point for Tommy as well. He was in denial. His lover and mentor couldn’t be dead, right?!

Tommy was, different. He wasn’t his happy self, he wasn’t making jokes or laughing at stupid stuff. He was just on the beach reminiscing. “Y/N can’t be dead... They just can’t! It’s impossible!”

“They’re dead Tommy.” That voice, it was Dream. The man who owned the cursed land people were standing on, the ‘god’ of everything. “They aren’t coming back and you know it.”

“SHUT UP!” Tommy swung his head to face the masked man. “Stop trying to get into my head! Stop trying to mess me up again! Y/N isn’t dead and I know it!”

The sad thing was... Tommy really didn’t understand that Y/N was gone. He was just stuck in a rut that can’t be escaped... not today at least.

“How about this. I’ll give you a favor, at a cost of course.” Dream was smirking, his eyes glowing with mischief and greed.

“I’m not falling for your stupid mind games Dream... just leave me alone.” That was the end of the conversation. Tommy hearing Dream leave with the words ‘the offer still stands’ before placing his head into his hands to cry his shock away.

Pain and Guilt

A week now. A week has gone by since the talk on the beach. Tommy finally got it through his head that you were dead. That confirmation made the thoughts of pain and guilt to surface to the top of his mind.

“I mean... I could have saved them, right?” Tommy looked up at Phil. “I could of saved them and everything would be okay...” His voice was hoarse from all the crying and screams that were let out moments before.

“Tommy, you can’t beat yourself up when it wasn’t your fault. Things happen, somethings we don’t want happening just does... It’s life Tommy.” Phil didn’t know what to do exactly. He was still mourning at the loss of Wilbur, but he could see Tommy wasn’t making that much progress.

“I just want this to be a big nightmare, and I-I’ll wake up to their smile and then get to hear their voice again...” Tommy couldn’t think straight.

“Just get some sleep, and remember that sometimes, life is unfair...” With a ghost of a smile Phil left to get himself back on track.

“Good-night... I guess.” Soft voice and tears were washing away the pain.

Anger and Bargaining

It’s a new month now. People are getting back on track, people are happy. This made Tommy angry. “How can they be happy?! Y/N’s dead!” His mind was racing.

“Calm down Tommy, maybe they just heal faster.” Tubbo was intimidated by the blonde. “It just takes a little longer for some peo-”

“How are you not mad, or sad, or something?! Your own flesh and blood is dead! In the ground and never COMING BACK!” Tommy yelled out his frustration causing Tubbo to break down.

“I am sad Tommy! Of course I am... I’m just trying to forget... to remember them happy and in peace instead of bleeding and rotting!” His tears were rolling down his face, clear but with agony. Tommy’s eyes softened with guilt.

“I’m sorry for yelling... I just... I just want Y/N back, safe and sound... not hurt, not sad, and not fucking dead!” Tommy apologized stopping in his tracks when he got to the crater.

Once again, the two boys were asking you to come back... not today though, it just didn’t work. 

Depression

Now it’s been a couple of months. Phil is doing much better, Tubbo is surviving better, but Tommy, he’s trying to get that favor into motion.

“Please Dream! I just want them back, you said that it still stood!” He was begging, almost to tears.

“Tommy, that was months ago. You had your chance, but then you threw it away.” Dream denied once again, a smirk and a light chuckle.

“No, that’s not fair! Y-you said that... you said tha-” He couldn’t finish his plead.

“Life isn’t fair Tommy! You just have to get that through you thick skull! Life isn’t FAIR!” Dream was now laughing, his eyes behind the mask were swirls of no more sanity left.

“You bastard!” Tommy could’t loss, he just couldn’t!

“I guess I am then... wallow in that depression Tommy, cry me a river because Y/N isn’t coming back.” That was it. Dream left the boy broken and alone, curled up and lost.

Upward Turn

He’s relaxed, the pain and the anger has passed, out of his system. He feels calm and understanding. It took awhile, but with the help from Phil and Tubbo he finally made process that he’s satisfied with.

Tommy is finally healing...

Reconstruction and working through

It’s been a year now. Yes a year. Tommy was finally lifting himself up and acting more like himself. He was picking up the pieces of his shattered heart. Placing them back together with the memories that he cherished deeply.

He started to keep a journal where he vents or just talks about his day, a nice way to not loss yourself, a safe place to cry away any hanging on pain.

Tommy was ready to pick himself up and move on.

Acceptance and Hope

Hope. That word was lost since the start of the whole cycle. Tommy lost his hope that day when the withers destroyed the rest of the already blown-up L’Manberg. He lost his lover, but that didn’t stop him from slowly building up the motivation to move on from the loss.

Tommy was ready for the future, he was ready to get revenge for you, he was ready to see you if he ever got the chance. He was ready for everything and anything... because

He pasted the seven stages of grief.

#mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt tommyinnit #tommyinnit #tommyinnit x reader #x reader #angst #dream smp #dream smp war

[taeminyourmind]

Without You x Taemin (A)

Genre: Angst

Summary: Months after breaking up, you and Taemin find yourselves in a vicious cycle of unhealthy habits to cope with the pain. When Taemin’s group mates convince you to talk to him, you and he talk about the cause of the breakup and receive closure after months of pain.

Warning!!: Unhealthy habits include alcohol and sex

Pairing: Taemin x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k+

* Requested

A/N: This story contains mature themes. Reader discretion is advised. This story is PURELY FICTION and DO NOT represent any of the characters in any way, shape or form.

Taemin’s right hand delicately places a lit cigarette between his lips while the other deathly grips the neck of his alcohol bottle. He inhales deeply while reaching forward to pick up a crumpled piece of paper from the table in front of him. His trembling fingers remove the cigarette that he’s smoked to almost its entirety and put it out in an ashtray.

As the smoke clears from his vision he feels a pierce in his heart as his eyes skim the handwritten contents of the letter. He’s stuck in a deadly cycle of reading the letter and drinking his pain away, reading the letter, and drinking the pain away, he can’t find the strength within himself to stop. 

He torments himself with curses for being the reason the one he loves has been in pain. The complexity of being unapologetic and apologetic clashes in his mind, causing him to take an aggressive swig of alcohol and allow his throat to burn as punishment. Maybe if he listened to you and you didn’t give up on him, you would be together instead of miles apart, comforting yourselves with harm to lessen the pain of this breakup.

Where alcohol is Taemin’s friend during this time, sex is yours. To be held and paid attention to, even if it’s by a stranger, eases your pain. When that pain returns, you return to the bar or club, giving flirtatious hints to the men that buy you drinks, and whoever is first to leave with you earns the prize. Your flesh sticks against theirs, your hands explore the curves of each other’s bodies, and your moans mix together to create a foreign feeling of dissatisfaction. You try to imagine Taemin is there, touching you, wanting you, and needing you, but they’re not him. It’s a vicious cycle you can’t stop, you’re looking for Taemin in everyone but him.

Taemin finds the strength to walk into the hallway, holding onto the wall for support until his legs become weak and he slides down the wall. His body begins to feel numb, succumbing to the pain that’s been suffocating him the past months.

“Shit,” he whispers, barely audible to himself. Bringing the bottle to his lips, he takes another swig and twists his face at the burn.

But the burn doesn’t stop him when your face appears in his mind, making him chug the rest of the bottle. To him, he’s drowning the memory of you, but amidst everything, he wants you more. He needs you, wants you, hates you, but loves you more. These complicated feelings punched him in the gut until he crawled to the bathroom and vomited in the toilet.

His hands grip each side of the toilet as he violently coughs and heaves. A distressed cry for help escapes him, shaking his core until he wears himself out. Shakily, he flushes the toilet and splashes cold water on his face. He steadies himself and walks towards the living room when something catches his eye. He blinks slowly until his vision comes together and he recognizes the framed picture of you smiling back at him. In his mind, your picture is taunting him to destroy himself more.

Without thinking, he reaches out until his fingers firmly grip the wooden frame and send it crashing to the floor. The sound of shattering glass is followed by a muffled yelp throughout the hallway. A sharp pain throbs on the sole of his foot causes him to stumble backward until his back hits the wall. Small traces of blood follow behind him as he limps to the bathroom.

“Still hurting me even when you’re not here,” he thinks to himself while sitting on the side of the tub.

He struggles to steady his trembling hand as he uses the tweezers to remove the piece of glass. The sting from rubbing alcohol makes him bite his lower lip and whimper in pain. Tired with numbness and pain, he slowly eases his way into the tub and tosses until he drifts to sleep.

The club’s bass travels through the room until it beats in your chest. Above, the disco lights give personality to the room of dancers in flashy outfits. But you didn’t come to dance the night away or shake the stress from the week away, you’re here to rid yourself of the pain lurking in the back of your mind. Your eyes stay focused on the bottle of beer in front of you until a brightly colored drink appears in front of you. 

You follow the hand that placed the drink in front of you and find a young man smiling down at you. Dressed in a Gucci silk dress shirt that’s half unbuttoned to reveal the contours of his chest, the young man sits beside and holds his drink up as if to toast.

“It’s a cosmopolitan,” he says. Unable to hear over the blasting music, you twist your face in confusion. He leans in closer until he’s inches from your face, the scent of wintermint on his breath. “It’s a cosmopolitan!”

“Ah,” you nod while holding the glass and clinking it against his. “Thank you.”

“I’m Jongin,” he says while sticking out his hand.

Staring at his hand, you can’t help but smile at his kind gesture as you shake his hand. “___.”

“Nice to meet you, ___. What are you doing here all alone?”

Taking a sip from the glass, you look at Jongin out the side of your eye and watch his eyes look over you in curiosity. An image of Taemin appears before you, causing you to take another gulp in hopes Jongin will forget the question.

“Breakup?” He asks while playing with the condensation of his glass. When you look over at him to ask if he knew, he shrugs. “That’s how I looked when I broke up with my girlfriend.”

“I guess we’re both in need of company.”

Everything that happens next comes as a blur as you allow yourself to ride your vicious cycle again. With each stroke Jongin presses into you, you close your eyes and imagine Taemin on top of you - his tender kisses, the softness of his touch, his sensual moans and groans, right now, Jongin was Taemin. No matter how you hold onto Jongin’s body while he pounds onto you, you can’t seem to hold onto him right, your fingers accustomed to the memory of Taemin’s body. No matter how pleasant Jongin’s kisses are, the taste of Taemin’s lips stays on your tongue. No matter how much you wanted to enjoy this session with Jongin, you couldn’t allow yourself to forget Taemin. With your pleas to go faster, Jongin complies until you both reach your end and you find yourself drifting to sleep in the arms of yet another stranger.

Sunlight seeps its ways through the gaps of the blinds with some of the rays resting on Taemin’s face. The light hitting his face stirs him awake. Too weak to move, he stares at the ceiling with the thought of your letter swirling in his mind once again. From the moment he wakes up to the moment he falls asleep, you were on his mind. He hates that he can’t shake you, like a tape stuck to a finger, but at the same time he doesn’t mind. At the end of the day, your face keeps him wanting to wake up every day.

Taemin grips the side of the tub and slowly eases himself out and steadies himself. The sound of the doorbell sounds in the middle of him brushing his teeth. An annoyed grunt rumbles from his core as he walks towards the front door with his toothbrush hanging out the side of his mouth.

“What is it?” He asks annoyed before snatching the door open. His eyes grow wide when he sees you standing on the other side. “___?”

“Hi Taemin,” you softly smile. “Can I come in?”

Immediately stepping to the side, Taemin opens the door wider, allowing you access inside. Stepping over the threshold, a flood of memories flash before your eyes as you walk inside and look around. You can’t help but smile at the apartment’s familiarity until you see the empty bottles of alcohol and a broken framed picture of you still lying in the hallway.

“Why are you here, ___? Wasn’t your love letter enough?” Taemin sarcastically asks while standing beside you. “Or did they ask you to come?”

“They’re worried about you,” you say while walking to the dining table and looking at the numerous empty alcohol bottles on the table. “And so am I.”

Taemin scoffs and snatches a bottle from your hand, causing you to jump back. “Now you’re worried about me?”

“You’re not the only one having a hard time,” you mumble while looking at the destroyed picture of you on the floor. You look at Taemin’s back with tears welling in your eyes. “They say you haven’t been showing up to practice.”

“Kind of hard when you can barely hold yourself together.”

Taemin pops open a bottle of beer and takes a swig. Sadness plagues your heart while you watch the way he hungrily drinks the liquor, his Adam's apples bobbing with each gulp. Sighing in frustration, you glide towards the boy and take the bottle from his hand, some of the beer spilling from his lips and onto his shirt. He glances up at you with eyes of anger and sorrow before using his hand to wipe his shirt.

“You barely drank when we were -” You trail off when the sadness of Taemin’s eyes meet yours. Whatever you were going to say faded from your mind. Instead, you reach behind Taemin and pour the rest of the bottle into the sink. “I think you have a problem Tae.”

“Don’t,” Taemin hisses through clenched teeth while holding his palm out to you. “Don’t call me Tae. You don’t get to call me that.”

Taemin shoves past you to grab a broom and angrily sweeps the pieces of broken glass into the pan. A reflection of his heart, Taemin blinks back his tears while you slowly approach him. You hesitate to reach a hand out to him, but at the sudden shudders of his shoulders, you place a gentle hand on the middle of his back. His muscles tense under your touch, as if to tell you to leave. Refusing to leave his side, you engulf him in an embrace. The moment your arms wrap around him, he turns towards you and sinks to the floor. Your body follows him and holds him close as he clings onto you while sobbing into your shirt.

“It’s okay,” you whisper into his hair while resting your cheek on top of his head. Though you try to be comforting, your voice quivers as you fight back the tears stinging your eyes. “We’ll get through this together.”

The awkward silence tightens its grip around your neck. Each breath you take feels amplified in the silence.

“You can breathe,” Taemin says with a slight chuckle, his fingers playing with a loose string on his shirt.

“I am breathing.”

“You always hold your breath when you feel like people can hear you breathe.”

“Huh,” you say while exhaling deeply. “I never noticed.”

“I always noticed.”

Taemin diverts his attention to you and gives you a weak smile before focusing on the wall in front of you. You stretch your legs in front of you and allow the silence to still your nerves. Out of sync but meshing together, your breaths complement one another.

“Did you stop loving me?” Taemin asks. Looking at him, he keeps his eyes focused on the wall.

“I never stopped loving you.”

“Then why did you leave me?” You remain silent, hanging your head in guilt as Taemin speaks again with a quivering voice. “___, please say something.”

2 Months Earlier

The TV provides the only light source in the house as you sit on the couch, staring into the screen while you click through the channels. Every now and then your eyes drift towards the clock and watch the hours pass. Each new hour brings out a sigh of frustration.

You pick up your phone and hover your finger over Taemin’s name. You chew on your lip while contemplating if you should call again and risk getting met with his voicemail. The hesitation sets in as you opt to scroll through your Instagram feed. You mindlessly scroll through photos and videos of family and friends, it isn’t until the explore page when you furrow your brows and sit straighter.

Photos of Taemin with Naeun at her celebrity-filled birthday party invade the page. Your heart pounds in your chest as you quickly scroll through the posts. A voice in your head repeats a number over and over, the number of times he’s placed you last on his list of priorities. The same voice reminds you that you’ll never be first, he’ll never keep his promise of showing you to the world, you’ll never be his priority - it was work, fans, and then you. You would always be last.

Your throat burns as you hold back from sobbing. Pushing your shame to the side, you call Taemin and wait through each ring, each more antagonizing than the last.

“Hello?” Taemin answers loudly while music blasts in the background. “___?”

“Where are you?” You ask, acting as if you were clueless.

There’s a pause and you can hear the music fade until it’s nonexistent.

“Taemin,” you begin before he has a chance to answer. “You were supposed to meet me tonight at my friend’s dinner. Remember?”

You hear him curse under his breath and you can imagine him angrily running his hand through his hands like he always does when he’s frustrated. You stand to your feet and pace the room, waiting for him to say anything.

“Shit, I forgot.”

“That’s all you can say?”

“What else do you want me to say, ___?” He asks in an irritated tone.

“What about ‘I’m sorry’? Taemin, you made a promise to me you would be there. This was supposed to be the first step to announcing our relationship.”

There’s a silence that’s shattered with a huff from his end. Your face burns at the thought of him being frustrated over a promise he didn’t keep.

“Don’t you think I know that?” He harshly says with clenched teeth. “I got tied up with work stuff. I couldn’t necessarily say I couldn’t come and look like the asshole in front of my peers.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit,” you spat while your grip on your phone gets tighter. “You make time for everything else. We cut our time together short so you can practice, write songs, and whatever it is you do. When it comes to me, you have no problem making cutting things short or saying you can’t do something and I don’t argue. But when it comes to work and your peers, you can’t cut things short or say no, even when you overwork yourself. It’s not fair, Taemin. I don’t want to be your secret anymore, I don’t want to be last in your life anymore.”

“___,” he sighs before an inaudible voice steals his attention away. He converses back and forth with it before returning to you. “Can we talk when I get home?”

“Goodnight, Taemin.” You sigh before hanging up.

You allow yourself permission to let the tears that have been welling in your eyes to fall. Three years - three years of being his girlfriend and secret. And for the past year, he’s promised multiple times to announce your relationship to the world, and each promise ended up broken resulting in arguments full of yelling and tears. This see-saw of emotions has drained you of the enthusiasm you once had for life and him. Now, you find yourself tiptoeing around him to not set him off and pushing your health to the side for his. But this time, you would put yourself first.

With your suitcase waiting for you by the front door, you placed a tear-stained letter on the kitchen table, its contents highlighting the end of the relationship and well wishes. When he returns in the wee hours of the morning, you will be gone, ready to free yourself from suffocation and disappointment.

The memory brings tears to your eyes. Quickly wiping them away you take a deep breath and turn towards Taemin who leans back slightly when he sees your glossy eyes.

“I was always last in your life,” you say while looking upward to keep from crying. “I wanted nothing but to be your girl, to be yours. I knew it would come at a cost, but I never expected it to be that painful. When we were friends, you were always there, but when we were together, you were nowhere to be found. I wanted to share you with the world, but even after three years, you didn’t want to share me. I...I had to break up with you to save myself.”

Taemin remains quiet and watches you blink away your tears. Your sadness feels like a punch in the gut. Knowing he’s caused you heartache at the expense of his work brings tears to his eyes. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it when you speak up again.

“But I wasn’t healthy for you either.”

“That’s not true,” he protests.

“You don’t have to lie, Taemin.” You look over to the boy whose face relaxes. “You can say it.”

He pauses for a moment and deeply sighs. “My career is all I’ve known and it’s a part of me. If I were to be without it, I would feel empty. But I also wanted you. When I saw you begin to distance yourself from me, I just dedicated myself to my craft.”

“I distanced myself because you were getting so wrapped up work to the point that I felt unwanted.”

Taemin slowly stretches out his fingers until they lightly lay on top of yours. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like that.”

You glance down at his fingers before looking at his face. A weak smile appears on your face as you gently squeeze his fingers. “I’m sorry for not being more understanding and leaving like that.”

Resting your head on the wall, you and Taemin exchange a brief smile. Your heart controls your actions like a puppet as you move closer to his body and wrap your arms around him. His arms slowly snake around your waist, giving it a gentle squeeze while placing a soft kiss on your shoulder. His touch makes you lean into him more to fill the void that’s been slowly consuming you.

“You haven’t been eating,” you whisper as you allow yourself to rest your head on his shoulder. “You’ve been living off of alcohol, haven’t you?”

“How do you know?”

“Taemin,” you say and pull away enough to see his face. “I’ve known you for how long? I think I know when something isn’t right.”

Taemin shamefully nods while his hands grip your shirt where your waist is, refusing to let you slip through his fingers. The coolness of your fingertips lifting his chin up sends chills down his spine. His eyes gaze into your warm eyes that invite him to shed all the shame.

“How about I go grocery shopping and then I can make us something to eat.”

Your suggestion brings a bright smile to his face as he eagerly nods. You can’t help but chuckle at his childlike behavior.

“Well, go clean yourself up and I’ll be back soon.”

Standing first, Taemin grabs your hands to help you to your feet. Inches away from each other, your heart pounds like it did when you had your first kiss. Nothing you say could drag your gaze away from his. Both of you lean forward, brazing yourselves to pressing your lips together - your hands grab onto his shirt to keep yourself steady while his hands rest on your hips. Squeezing your eyes shut, you place your forehead on his and slowly pull away. The sadness in both of your eyes makes it known that everything is moving too fast.

“I’ll be out before you’re back,” Taemin softly smiles before brushing past you and entering the bathroom.

Returning to the living area, you grab your jacket and place it over your body. Upon placing your phone in its pocket, a folded piece of paper brushes against fingers. Your eyebrows furrow as you bring it out to your view and slowly unfold it.

“‘Let’s not make this a one-time thing. Call me sometime. Xx Jongin [phone]’.” You whisper to yourself. Your eyes focus on Jongin’s name and feel yourself blush at the memory of last night's events.

You find yourself asking if you gave Jongin a fair chance since you were using him to fill the void left by Taemin. You tightly hold your lips together and look down the hallway to the bathroom door. Now that you’ve gotten closure with Taemin, was it fair to give Jongin a call or wait to see how things pan out with Taemin? Your heart is torn at the thought. You look from the door to the paper and back to the door.

Quickly, you leave the apartment with the piece of paper held tightly in your palm, crumbling it as you stuff it back in your pocket. On the way to the store, your mind keeps flipping between the pros and cons of Taemin and Jongin. A difficult decision clouds your mind of either picking up a story where it left off or start a new story.

#taemin angst #shinee angst #kpop angst #taemin scenarios #shinee scenarios #kpop scenarios #taemin fanfic #SHINee FanFic #kpop fanfic #taemin imagines #shinee imagines #kpop imagines #taemin imagine #kpop imagine #shinee imagine

[cafedanslanuit]

Just a little bit of your heart || Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

I don't ever tell you how I really feel / 'Cause I can't find the words to say what I mean / (...) I know I'm not your only / But I'll still be a fool 'cause I'm a fool for you

a/n: I wasn’t thinking on writing a second part but since you asked so nicely, I came up with two extra chapters! Hope you like this one <3 I will be posting the final chapter in the next few days. tagging the ones who asked for part 2 ~ @loeybk​ @animemelanie360​

Part One || Part Two || Part Three

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 .❀。• *₊°。

Kirishima had tried his best not to let Bakugou know but news travelled fast, faster than he had anticipated. Whispers about you dating a girl from the Support Class quickly got to Bakugou. He didn’t comment on it, but Kirishima noticed how much rougher he got on training that day, and how his hands would let out tiny clouds of smoke out of the blue, making him think that all those comments were still around Bakugou’s head.

Bakugou hadn’t tried talking to you again and you hadn’t either. Deciding it was a deserving end for such an unfulfilling love story, you had decided to move on and finally accepted a proposal from a girl that you had met through Yaoyorozu during lunch time. She was kind and sweet, a harsh change from the last relationship you had been it. She had invited you to the cinema and then to a tiny coffee shop where you discussed the movie. You found yourself laughing easily at her jokes and once the date ended, you could see yourself seeing that girl again.

Weeks went by where you tried your best to focus all your energy on her rather than your ex. If you were damned to see each other other until you graduated, you had to start working on making his presence not mean a thing. You hadn’t found much success in the last three weeks, but you knew it had to happen someday.

It was a Thursday morning during Aizawa’s class when you felt your phone vibrating in your jacket pocket. You ignored it, but a minute after, you felt it again. Making sure Aizawa wasn’t looking at you, you took it out and put it under your desk.

‘hey, how’s your day going?’

‘right sorry you should be in class. i’m too, but i’m bored and i thought of u<3’

You couldn’t help but smile at the cute texts she had sent you. You replied to her and didn’t have to wait long for another reply. It went by for few minutes until you saw your sensei’s binding cloth snatching the phone away from your hands. You watched in horror as it flew straight to Aizawa’s hands, where he took a look at the screen.

“If you rather chat with your girlfriend than be in my class, don’t waste my time” he said. You felt your face turning red and wished your classmates weren’t looking at you as they were doing at the moment. “In fact, why don’t you text her again. Tell her you can’t make it today since you have to clean Gym Gamma all by yourself. No quirks” Aizawa added with a sick smile. You nodded, embarrassed and put your phone in your backpack. You couldn't believe you were going to be grounded for something as stupid as texting during classes. The worst part was Aizawa was right. You really had set yourself up for this.

Just as you thought the class could continue and your nightmare was over, Aizawa turned again to look at you, a chill running across your spine.

“My bad, not alone. Bakugou has to stay too because he doesn’t seem to understand what the difference between training and attempted murder is yet” he shot an angry glare at the named student, who just looked down to his notebook. You remembered noticing Bakugou being extra rough in training the last few days, but tried not to give it much thought.

You sighed and started taking notes again. 

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

Right after training, everyone started leaving the gym. Midoriya gave you an apologetic smile as he tried to help you a bit with cleaning, quickly being discouraged by Aizawa’s scary look. You assured him you would be fine and watched him leave. Jirou and Momo asked you if they should wait for you outside U.A. but you told them there was no need. You would see each other the next day in class, and you probably would just want to take a shower and go back home once you were done.

You took a broom and started sweeping the floor in silence, looking at Bakugou as he did the same. The two didn’t talk to each other as you did so. Time seemed to have stopped, in the worst way possible. As you kept doing your chore, you thought about how you could be in a cute date instead of sweeping your classmate’s sweat if you had ignored the messages and waited until lunch to talk to her. You mentally cursed yourself for your actions. If there was anything worse about being stuck with that chore, was being stuck with him.

Once you were done, you both went to the storage room, were you started arranging the items that had been used in class, putting the items back in the shelves. You saw Bakugou grabbing his backpack and walking towards the door.

“Hey, we’re not done” you warned him. He stopped and turned to look at you, disgust written on his features.

“I cleaned the gym. I’m done”

“This counts as cleaning the gym, you think I’m doing this because I like to?” you replied, your hands on your hips.

“You’d be stupid like that” he said, before rolling his eyes and resuming his pace.

“What the fuck is your problem? Be a man and accept I dumped you”. Bakugou stopped again and turned around, laughing. His laugh was cold, much colder than anytime you’ve heard him.

“I have. And without the need to hold onto a fucking extra like you did”.

“It’s rich for you to mocking the fact I’m dating again instead of asking yourself why I left you in the first place. Work on your fucking feelings, Bakugou, it seems you can’t even do training well. Isn’t that why you’re here?” you challenged him. Bakugou dropped his backpack to the ground and walked towards you.

“Wanna say that again?” he threatened.

“I’m saying you’re so emotionally stupid you couldn’t keep your girlfriend” you countered, not backing down.

“Why do you even think you were worth keeping around?” Bakugou snarled. Your fierce facade fell apart, his words hitting you deep.

“You’re an asshole” you muttered, grabbing back one of the training items and putting it back to its place. You tried your best to focus on organizing, you weren’t going to let him get away with hurting you again.

“Well, that says more about you than me” he scoffed.

“You know? It does” you agreed. “I spent so much time with someone who didn’t love me, surely that says something about how low I was willing to fall for some dick”

Bakugou’s hand grabbed your elbow, forcing you to turn around and face him. Beneath his anger, you could see a glimpse of hurt. You let that thought go. No, Bakugou wasn’t the type to get hurt by words, much less your own.

“Well, you sure don’t seem to settle for dick anymore”

“Is it so hard to believe a girl can be healthier for me than you?” you raised your eyebrow at him.

“What it’s hard to believe it’s someone can actually stand you” Bakugou smirked. You wanted to get back at him, but knew it would be repeating the cycle of hurt you had already established since you had split up. He would say something hurtful, you would try to hurt him back and he retaliated. It was tiring and you were done with it.

“Let me go, I’ll finish this by myself” you muttered, jerking your arm away from Bakugou. Instead of releasing you, his grip only grew harsher. “I said let go”. He looked at your for a few moments and then he finally let go.

“Fine. Have fun playing with your new toy. See how long this one lasts” he scoffed.

Bakugou didn’t expect to slapped.

“What the fuck!?” he yelled, his hand going to his cheek. “I let you go!”

“You don’t get to say I’m playing around. If you were too incapable of saying you loved me, fine! But I don’t play around with people and I certainly didn’t play around with you, dumbass. You’re impossible, fuck!” you breathed heavily. Bakugou just looked at you in silence. You had tried to stop a confrontation from happening, but now you were way past your earlier intentions. “All I wanted was for you to say you loved me. That was it. But you didn’t want to, or you couldn’t and now we’re here. I’ve accepted I couldn’t change that about you, but don’t talk like I’m the broken one out of us both”.

You felt tears streaming down your face, both anger and sadness drowning you. Bakugou stayed silent, his refusal to say something back doing nothing more than filling your body with rage. You punched Bakugou’s chest, his body not even moving at how little impact it made. Frustrated, you went again. And again. And again.

“Why couldn’t you say it?!” you cried. “Why the fuck can’t you tell me how you feel!? Tell me you hate me, I don’t even care. Just speak”.

Bakugou just looked down, taking every hit you were giving. You tried pushing him back, taking a few steps back yourself as you failed.

“Just tell me what you feel!” you pleaded. His eyes were still glued to the floor, his mouth twisted in a snarl.

“Why the fuck can’t you say something!? Say something, goddammit! Speak, Katsuki!” you yelled, marking each sentence with another punch on his chest.

“I don’t know how!” Bakugou finally growled, grabbing you by your wrists. You wrestled against him for a few moments but then desisted, knowing he had more raw physical strength than you.

“Think again, that’s a lame excuse and you know it” you spat, feeling his hold on your wrists tightening. Bakugou showed his teeth, his anger getting the best of him.

“You make me feel like a fucking moron!” he screamed against your face. “That’s how I fucking feel! I don’t feel composed, I don’t feel like a winner, I feel like a fucking extra whenever you walk by and don’t look my way”

You stared at him, your eyes filling with tears again. Anger was still flooding your veins, pushing you to activate your quirk and start an actual fight with your past lover.

“You wanted the truth!?” he continued. “Here it is: I never told you how I felt because I can’t fucking understand it. All I know is I’m a cunt who would do anything you asked me to".

“Except telling me you loved me” you grunted. He harshly let go of your arms, pushing them away from him.

“What the fuck does that even mean!? Tell me, what’s the point of saying I love you if I don’t understand what that means. You wanted me so bad to say it, like it meant anything. What does me saying ‘I love you’ guarantees you, huh?” he asked, taking steps forward as you walked backwards. You back finally hit the wall, your expression turning into a confused one. “If I don’t understand what I’m saying, it means shit! But hey, wanna know how loving you feels like? What it really feels like? It’s fucking hell! I can’t control it, I can’t make it go away and I fucking wish I could!”

Before he could continue, you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him close, crashing your lips against his. Bakugou kissed you back, pushing his tongue against your mouth, his hands grabbing each side of your face as he did. You bit his lower lips until he growled, letting him do the same, secretly loving the way your swollen lips felt once he was done. His hands never left your cheeks, not even when his whole body pressed against you as his mouth kept moving against yours. Your ran your fingers through his hair, intoxicating yourself with the feeling as you yanked him even closer.

After a few moments, Bakugou finally pulled away, resting his forearms on the wall above your shoulders. He panted against your face, your hands settling on his shoulders. You pressed his lips against his again, but this time for a much softer kiss. Bakugou broke the kiss again, closing his eyes.

“Are you with her? Like… a couple” Bakugou whispered, his breath hitting your face. You shook your head with a whimper.

“We’re just going out on dates” you sighed, your eyes searching for his. When he finally set his vermillion eyes on you, you felt a lump on your throat. “I love you, Katsuki”

“Why?”

“Why?” you repeated, confused. Bakugou broke eye contact for a moment, looking down and then set his eyes on you again. You let out a dry laugh, feeling the pressure increase around your throat. “Because I don’t believe in unconditional love. I believe loving someone is not accepting their changes but encouraging them. And you… you make me want to be better. A better hero. You’re always pushing me to train harder, to endure the pain, to keep going. You challenge me, Katsuki. I love that. It’s like… you believe in me or something.”

“Why is it so easy for you to say that?” Bakugou asked, a pained look on his face.

“It’s not” you shook your head. Your eyes filled with tears again, you felt them running down your cheek as you chose your next words. “But I didn’t come up with them in one day. I thought about loving you and why I did that for quite some time. I want that for you too. You… need to understand what you feel for me, besides frustration. And when you do… you let me know, okay? But I can’t--” your voice broke a little and you sniffed, trying to get yourself together, even if tears were falling again. “It feels wrong for me to be with you when you’re still trying to figure out what love means to you”.

You both fell silent again. As you tried to regulate your breathing to stop crying, you felt Bakugou’s thumb wiping your tears away. You stayed like that for a couple of minutes, drowning in the presence of each other, wanting things to be different, easier, simpler.

“Okay” he exhaled. “Just…” his thumb set on your chin softly. “Give me a minute. Right now… I’d rather have this than nothing at all” he whispered. You pretended not to notice how his voice broke at the end of the sentence as he fell onto your lips again. Maybe he was right. Maybe a little love was better than none.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha #bnha #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bnha fanfiction

[justalittletomato]

What would Mual do if he thought the reader was dead but they were alive? Savage finds the reader alive and doesn't tell him, dragging Mual to the reader. Only to find out she faked her darth bc a bounty was put on the reader?

I have somewhat tweaked your suggestion and this is the result. As always the angst train is here. Have fun.😎 the sun glasses hide my tears.

GONE (maul x reader)

Your fingers intertwine with his absentmindedly. Something to ground his thoughts to rather than tempted into yelling at everyone to finally make a choice after 3 endless hours. Not one plan could be agreed upon and now another meeting would have to take place after. You can feel him tense and glance to see his jaw set and eyes narrowing. Carefully you lean over to kiss his cheek and whisper, “ It’s fine, at least we’re together right now.”

You are right,  prior to this, you both had gone on a series of separate missions, only having a handful of hours together. The endless meeting is a gift. Today he has you here.

“Given the circumstances, we are suggesting that the next meeting be broken into two groups, a solution to this issue may arise faster if we do this. “ the two of you glance at another at the announcement.

You raise a brow, “Well if it helps at least”

“ It better,” At least he gets to stay with you.

“Honored Y/N can you please join us?”

Maul’s tension returns with force.  He grips tightly to your hand he baring his teeth at the syndicate member who dared request your presence “ They will be staying here with me.”  

You know there’s no reasoning with him, but you know also know better than you refuse orders. “ I’ll go if you allow Savage to accompany me.”

The yellow Zabrak at your side sits up straighter and looks around the table, waiting for someone to disagree, anyone would do.

No one dares.

You somehow get him to let go of your hand,“ I’ll be back soon, please don’t kill anyone while I’m gone” you whisper, “or maim or frighten them out of the room,” You kiss his cheek,

“ Hurry back. “ he requests “ Also I can make no promises.”

You roll your eyes, “ Try.” You give him one last kiss on his lips before leaving.

Savage more or so pushes you forward as you kept looking back. He can still hear the two of you laughing from down the hall.

It’s another hour or so and still, nothing has been decided…Maul stared at one member who kept bringing up the same route over and over. He merely stares a bit longer, his eyes may be a bit brighter and there’s a strange look that overcomes the speaker's face. They freeze, thier flesh pales and they more or collapse in their seat. Maul sits back satisfied with the end of that.

A rumbling begins and the room shakes, everyone shouts as a loud explosion pierces their ears. Screaming begins.

Smoke leaks into the room as a blurry of people rush in panic, their clothes are ashy and some are trying to ease thier burns.

Neither of you come in.

GET OUT OF MY WAY!!!. He shouts as he jostles the crowd.

You had to be here, you said you were coming back.

He searches for his brother, he has no doubts Savage has you.

Safe and unharmed. You must be. Both of you must be.

The room is damaged and charred part of it blasted away leaving the ground broken and caved in, a blazing fire in its depths.

He sees the familiar armor in the corner his brother's horns and body in a defensive huddle against the wall, nothing more than ash around him. Maul lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “ BROTHER!”

Of course he would have protected you from the blast!

You were probably shaken but unscathed in his brother's arms. Savage always made sure to watch over you.

His brother is alive…Maul waits as he stirs and waits for you to also peek out. His brother mutters something in a pained breath. Maul leans in.

“Gone...they’re gone” his brother whispers.

Maul watches as Savage turns.

There’s nothing in his arms. Where?!

“They’re gone...”His brother whispers again.

He has nobody to mourn. Instead, he takes solace in your shared room and takes no visitors. Anyone who enters is tossed out, followed by a stream of screams.

 No one could enter here, this was your tomb, he might as well bury himself here with you.  

Every little piece and trinket hold its memories of you, he takes refuge in the bed you two had shared. Not that sleep comes easily without you at his side. A sense of panic fills him as he realizes your scent is slowly fading from the pillows and blankets. He resists and now sleeps on the cold floor, he would not disturb the remnants of you.

His brother is the only one allowed in, he watches in concern as Maul traces your old books and makes sure everything is kept as it was. However, Maul prys into the wardrobe and finds the white gown you had stashed away pushing Maul away so he wouldn’t see it.

“Not yet!” you had laughed.  

Savage watches as Maul brushes his fingers on the silk. “ It was supposed to be in the next cycle.” Maul mutters the mirror on the wardrobe begins to crack, “ THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!!!”  the sound of his anguish causes the crack to splinter, the mirror shatters as do the windows you once gazed through. 

Savage keeps a close eye desperate to keep Maul in some state of reality. He somehow managed to hide the dress only for Maul to scream at him and shatter windows in anger, it now sits on the bed never to be worn or touched again.

A suggestion  Savage gives brings Maul to return, “ Find who took them away from us.”

Maul leaves that very day leaving Savage in charge and locking the room until his return.  

Who dared to take you from his life. His saber slices through another, “ WHO ORDERED YOU?” Their comrades watch in horror as this horned man cuts them down,  It’s all that’s keeping him going. He will seek out your murderers, he will make sure you are avenged. He has no plans after that.

His brother's rampage continues focused solely on destroying those who took you out of their lives.

“ you have an urgent message. It’s encrypted.” It’s Rook, she’s solemn as she hands over the datapad,” We suspect it’s a ransom for information about...” she doesn’t not say your name. “ Thank you Kast.” Savage watches as she rejoins the rest of the deathwatch their armor now inscribed with a symbol of mourning for your loss.

The datapad asks for a password, odd it couldn’t be so simple, but there’s only so many passwords with few words.

The message opens and the holo image opens, “Brother?” Starlit eyes look hopeful.

It’s you, Maker it's you!

The message is dated only a few days prior…Maker ….. somewhere out in the galaxy you were alive!

“ Forgive me please forgive me. There appeared to be a bounty on me. Luckily a few of my associates found a way to help me, but they never told me how they would do so. “ you pause,” it should be safe now...I can come home.” you are crying now, “I can finally go home!”

Maul is off-world when Savage interrupts an interrogation it was another false lead. He screams in frustration, every lead has lead to nothing. Your killers were still breathing, still out there while you. You were...

Savage waits “ Brother.”

“ Unless you have more information I don’t want to hear it.” He needs to find the next target. Someone had to be responsible.

Savage can tell his brother won’t listen, reasoning is beyond him, it’s painfully reminiscent of their first meeting, he mutters to himself or maybe to you. If he dared to mention the truth his brother would not believe him.  

“I do” he lies “but it not here. It’s off-planet.”

“Then what are we waiting for?  The faster we approach the closer I can ensure my starlight is at rest...”

He never says peace…it does not exist.

You wait on the plains of this isolated planet, a rural place away from prying eyes. Surrounded by fields of golden wheat and fertile dirt. It's lovely you suppose, you think of the days you have spent here and realized you had long missed the day you would have finally worn that dress.

You can’t help but cry, you had promised to come back, you had promised...

Memories of events tend to linger, both on objects and on people. Maul sees red when he senses the figure in the plains. Why do you have signs of thier signature?!

A lone figure curled up into themselves, likely guilt for taking you out of his world. 

Oh, the figure would pay with their life.

 Savage grips his arm knowing his brother’s intent, too consumed that he could not realize you were right before them,  “I lied. that is not a lead.”

 Maul struggles in his grip, “Let go! That killer has remnants of my Starlight!”  

The figure looks up to the sound of the name they had not heard in some time, thier hood falls and those starlit eyes widen.

 Maul stills.

 But you..you don't hesitate and run to them.  The impact of your embrace might bruise you later, but you don't care, you haven't felt this alive in some time. It was like seeing the sun after so long..my darling dawn..you whisper against his hearts.  “Starlight...” he croaks wrapping his arms around you. Bright and warm, and very much alive. 

“I’m sorry”. You whisper, “I’m so sorry.” You are again curled up, this time in Maul’s arms. You’re half-blind with your tears as he holds you as close as he can against his hearts. His hands are your hair, and lips trying to kiss you all over your face, each one salty but one he believed he would never have again. He doesn’t want an explanation now, he has you.

He had tried to destroy you…he holds on tighter and soon the two of you are just whispering apologies to the other. 

Savage won't move either of you but nor will he resist the two of reaching out to embrace him as well, all three of you are together again.

#anon asks #darth maul x reader #maul x reader #maul #darth maul #star wars x you #star wars self insert #savage opress #i feel maul is more in character in this

[whirlybirbs]

CYAR’IKA – iii

summary: the issue of conflict. rating: t for some emotions, m next ;) pairing: the mandalorian x reader a/n: read part one, and part two. part four will be smut.

the razor crest is no large ship.

it’s small enough to breed an immense amount of discomfort between the two souls avoiding one another like asteroids whizzing by far off moons. in fact, the size of the ship nurtures it -- it nurses this horrible, wretched little feeling and waters it and watches it grow to a size bigger than it can hold.

you try your best to beat back the heart-ache; you try and trim the vines that are strangling you slowly, but dyn... 

kriff, you could kill him. 

it’s been nearly a whole week, tracking bounties and anchored in the cool hum of space, since the incident. 

and, maybe at best, a shared ten words between the two of you.

you hadn’t meant it -- when you’d said “i wish i could see you” -- the way he’d taken it. to him, it had been a blow of guilt; a reminder of these irrational thoughts of inadequacy he holds. to you, it’d been a merely expression of hope for the future. someday, maybe, you’ll be able to pull your eyes open and marvel at the man before you. now, simply put, isn’t the time.

and every single time you open your damn mouth to try and explain that, dyn jarren just... walks away. slips past you, moves into another part of the ship, and dodges your orbit.

it’s the third time today that you try and corner him. this time, as he’s hauling open his armory and grabbing a blaster pistol to strap to his hip. 

“dyn --”

“i’ll be back soon.”

he explains curtly that he’s going out on a bounty. tracked the poor soul to a cantina on the west side of tatooine. easy prey. quick catch. 

“i’ll come,” you supply readily, tone a bit bitter.

dyn spares you one look; his dark visor provides little to no emotion.

“no.”

you really could kill him. 

“you can’t keep walking away --”

the bay-door to the razor crest hisses shut on your words and so you’re stuck, alone, in the ship for the time being. promptly, you throttle your boot through the paneling by the door. the dent is hardly enough to explain your frustrations. 

dyn is trying to be an utreekov. he isn’t. he just... every time he tries to talk about this whole thing, a lump worms it’s way up his throat and leaves him choking on his words. talking isn’t his thing. it’s never been. 

you are his thing. his everything, if he’s being honest with himself.

sun, moon, stars. everything. 

he can hear you kick the inside of the ship as he stalks away from the space depot. 

you’re mad at him. he knows that -- he knows you’ve been trying to sort this out, and he is, too. just... differently. inwardly. and... it’s not as easy as just... talking. i mean, what if he lets you see his face? then, he has no one -- he’s not a mandalorian. and... what if he’s not your everything? what if cycles down the road, you realize he’s nothing but an insufferable, cranky bastard? 

(you already know that. that’s why you love him.)

... -- oh.

you do, don’t you?

you love him. 

you love dyn jarren. 

love. 

hm. 

you sit in his chair in the cabin, knee jumping up and down and up and down, and you stare at the ceiling for so long, you’ve counted every bolt (all 147 of the poly-magnate 55mm screws -- there’s three missing on the right back panel) six times over. this realization has been a long time coming. cycles worth of time spent by his side. and all this... 

the sun is setting when he finally arrives back at the ship, sporting a new char mark on his beskar cuirass and a squirming bounty -- a young twi’lek with green skin who’s more terrified than anything. a sandstorm has started to kick up, sending buffs of sand along the outside of the ship and leaving a cloud of dust in dyn’s wake. 

the twi’lek coughs and waves his hands. his wrists are cuffed. 

“c’mon, up,” dyn grits, shoving the bounty inside the ship as he punches the doors shut.

“ -- dyn.”

the mandalorian blinks. you’re there, scaling down the ladder into the gut of the ship to greet him; your face is set in an emotion he hasn’t seen before. 

... fear?

or... confusion? 

you’re out of it. distant. you pay no mind to to the bounty in dyn’s grip when you speak. in fact, you don’t look at the twi’lek once. 

“i need to tell you something.”

anger. yep. that’s one emotion he can pin down, at least.

dyn moves through the ship anyways, ignoring the churning of emotions in his gut, and shoves the bounty down along the bench across from the weapon’s stall. “sit.”

“dyn.”

“-- right now?”

the twi’lek blinks up between the two of you. 

you approach him quickly, jaw set, as dyn unloads the blaster from his hip and hangs it up in the locker. he slings his rifle over his shoulder, unclipping the strap, and does the same. 

“yes,” you grit, “can you listen to me?”

“can this wait,” dyn barks, facing you and tilting his helmet, “until i’ve sorted out our guest?”

... oh, the guest who’s making a move for the DH-447 mounted to the left of him?

your own matte black DL-44 whines alive, pulled from your thigh holster in a blink -- and again, you don’t even bother to spare the twi’lek a second glance. the bounty freezes, squeaking, and raises his hands. 

dyn whirls around.

“can you,” you snap suddenly, glare pinning the bounty in place as he suddenly realizes he’s the subject of your apparent molten anger, “please, move away from the blaster? because, right now? i’m trying to tell the man i love that i love him and you’re making it a little difficult --”

“o-of course --”

“what --”

you raise a finger, jaw set tight. dyn’s mouth snaps shut.

his -- he... did you -- you...

he must have misheard.

“when you’re done,” you bite at dyn, gesturing to the bounty, “you’re going to come up deck, and then, we are going to have a conversation. do you understand?”

dyn’s heart is hammering.

yes ma’am.

he clears his throat. he nods. and you slide an icy glare to both the men in the cabin. 

he’s never put a bounty on ice faster. 

kriff -- he’s sweating when he gets to the cabin and you’re there, knee still bouncing and arms crossed and counting. your eyes are moving along the ceiling and you don’t even acknowledge him when he freezes in the doorway. 

there’s a moment of silence. 

then, you exhale.

"are you done?”

he makes a strained sound.

you sit up quick, eyes narrowed as you stand and approach him. he feels a bit like he’s being stalked, about to be gutted and strung up for you to feed -- the way you move through the cabin reminds him of a nexu on a hunt. 

terrifying. 

“ -- because i --” you raise a finger, “have been trying to talk to you for --”

“a week.”

“a week, dyn!”

“i know.”

“do you?” you hiss, a moment of irritation bubbling over and blinding you, “because -- because i -- i feel like an idiot. an idiot, dyn!”

his helmet drops. his hands move to his hips. silence runs like a river between you both. 

you exhale. you take a step back, and you try to cool down.

“... can you look at me, please?”

beneath his visor, his eyes shut for a second. he sighs, nodding weakly. he -- he should be looking at you. he can’t avoid this. it’s not... it’s not fair. not to you. 

“i’m sorry,” he says quietly, words shaking a bit, “for not being... good at this. at talking or...”

he waves his hands.

“-- all of it,” dyn gives a ragged sigh, “and for being afraid of change. and -- and for being so... unsure --”

when he looks at you, your face is soft. you can see the anxiety bubbling into the bouncing of the finger drumming on his waist. it’s a micro-movement. but you know him. you know he’s trying. he’s trying to breathe and stay calm and not walk away.

“i love you.”

... or maybe he hadn’t misheard you earlier.

the drumming stops.

he nearly rips his helmet off, then -- throttles it across the razor crest and never looks back. 

the words are sweet like honey coming from your lips. the words sound like home; whole and full of the warmest emotion in the galaxy. and you smile, then, so small and timid -- and his heart sings. 

he doesn’t know what to do.

but, you’re quicker than him. 

you dig out a single strip of cloth from your pocket -- inky black and opaque. 

“i’m going to tie this around my eyes,” you speak matter-of-factly, raising it and draping it across your eyes, “and you’re gonna take your helmet off and i’m gonna kiss you. because i don’t need to see you. because i love you. and -- and that helmet is your life. and i understand that.”

you’ve barely got a single knot tied when his hands meet your waist and he crushes his lips against your own.

it steals your breathe away.

and, when dyn jarren is done peppering your face with kisses, he speaks slowly.

“ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar'ika.”

he loves you. and you love him. and you don’t have to see him to know he’s happy. 

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x you #mando x reader #mando x you #dyn jarren imagine #dyn jarren x reader #dyn jarren x you #star wars imagine #heheeheheheheheh whoops #i gotta make a masterlist tbh

[jj-ktae]

·39·Attendance - Prompt Game -

Title : Attendance Pairing : Lim Jaebeom x Fem!Reader Genre : Fluff Words : 1393 Summary : You just want Jaebeom to take care of himself. Prompt N°39 : “You fool! You’ve walked right into my trap! It’s not even a very good trap!”

Attendance 

Jaebeom doesn’t know what rest is. He spends hours and hours in his studio, composing and writing until he feels satisfied enough to grant himself with a five-minute break that barely calms his stress. He walks around when he needs inspiration, eyes moving frantically in need of something, anything that could tear a word out of his brain.

When it does he runs back into the poorly lit room, his feet hitting the ground at full speed and distracting you from whatever you are doing.

You’ve learnt to deal with this side of your boyfriend.

You don’t mind; Jaebeom has always been the artistic type, the one who says only what is needed but has it all in his head. He finds beauty in what reflects the eyes and expresses it with what the lips can form. It is a process of fabrication that he cherishes and you are willing to follow his lead for the sake of his art.

But sometimes, just sometimes, you wish he would put it aside to enjoy the beauty of a relationship he tends to forget. It is obviously not on purpose for Jaebeom is the same old romantic, his words teasing and pupils shining when you appear before him. He works in cycles where he locks himself for a long period before emerging with or without the hint of a smile to fulfil his boyfriend duties.

You understand, you don’t want him to change who he is.

It has been a whole week, though. A week of whispers and dehydration. Jaebeom barely goes out and he has a whole album to work on but you cannot let him be. He must take care of himself above everything else even if it means fighting with his thick head.

“Jaebeom, you should take a break.” Only your head pops from behind the door. A tired boy is sitting, locks messed up.

“Later.”

It’s always the same answer, that annoying word which means he won’t be going out of this room any time soon.

You sigh, opening the door wider and sensing the change of mood as soon as he slowly pulls his headphones down.

“I’m about to eat, can you please join me?” You try again, a hand now on your hip.

He tilts his head slightly, looking frustrated but also annoyed. “I’ll join you later. I’m almost done.”

You know how it will end, the food will stay on the table until you go to sleep.

“Why can’t you disconnect for like...an hour?” You don’t need him to answer; you want him to realize he has to stop. “You have to take care of yourself!”

Jaebeom sighs, finally putting his pen down and leaning over his hand. “I am taking care of myself. I need concentration, that’s all.”

“And I need you from time to time, that’s all.” You finish, your tone going softer.

Annoyance leaves Jaebeom as soon as you speak. He nods and lets everything as it is on his office, like you spelled a cast on him and he can only do whatever you want.

He will never admit it is actually the case.

“I’m done for tonight.” He concludes. You smile and it feels like jackpot for Jaebeom so he gets up and walks toward you until he is at arm’s reach. His hand falls on your cheek, “Let’s eat. I deserve a break.”

Your body relaxes, his reaction enough to make you feel electricity going through your chest. “I deserve that break, too.” you joke, turning around to go to the kitchen.

Jaebeom feels guilty. He knows he shouldn’t turn into a hermit whenever he has a big project going on but he doesn’t seem to be able to work any other way. He finds the table set and so beautifully decorated it makes his heart ache.

You had prepared all of this and you probably did it in the past too. How many times did he reject your offers, how many times did you do your best and never complained because you take him seriously?

His stomach almost hurts. He hates feeling like the guy who is so selfish he doesn’t even notice everyone else’s effort.

So, before he can form a proper sentence, an apology leaves his mouth.

You arrange the second plate on the table, raising two surprising brows at how down he suddenly looks. Maybe he doesn’t want to take a break but did it to please you?

“I promise it’s only for tonight. I’m the one who is sorry for taking you away from work.” You hate how indecisive your emotions are. Anger is out the window when you notice how disturbed Jaebeom is; he probably is already thinking about what he should be composing, now.

Your boyfriend blinks, feeling even worse for hinting he might not want to be here. “No, no. I actually feel guilty. You’ve been preparing such a pretty dinner and I almost didn’t see it.”

He takes a seat and you follow, your chair now next to his.

“I am totally fine with being here, with you. I hate that you’re doing all this while I can only lock myself up in this room. You had every right to come and request a little bit of my time. You deserve all my time.” he confesses, his usual embarrassment nowhere to be found.

You hum, taken aback by such a confession but also content. “Are you okay? You don’t usually...speak like this.”

Jaebeom looks okay, but deep inside he is not. “I’m just realising things. Just you saying you need me and your face right now makes me realize how much of a crappy boyfriend I am.” He chuckles, eyes avoiding the table because he pictures you being all cute an eager to please him.

For a whole minute, Jaebeom thinks he doesn’t deserve to have you.

And you feel it, the hint of anxiety on his face. It’s like the one expression he wears whenever he is stuck on a project.

You grab his adorably-looking tiny hand and let the chair slide closer to his. “Don’t overthink it. I am in a happy relationship; we live comfortably without conflicts, we’re both busy people and we do love each other. You having to lock yourself into your studio is fine by me, I just want you to take care of yourself. Don’t think about all the times you didn’t come.”

“I just think about you preparing all this,” he looks up, licking his lips unconsciously when your sweet face appears before him. “about how beautiful you are,” he lifts his free arm and wraps it around your shoulder, “and about how my past self must have done a lot of good deeds for me to live this way without getting in trouble.”

He pulls you toward him when you snort and you let his hand go to hug him back. “You’re a perfect boyfriend, Jaebeom. You care about me and I feel it. You have nothing to worry about, I just wish you’d stop disappearing for a whole week.”

You yelp when he grabs you, making you fall on his lap. “I guess I will have to show you how...present, I can be.”

You shake your head, using your best pitiful expression. “I know, a dinner is nothing special...maybe I shouldn’t try so hard and just give you what you need…”

Jaebeom gasps, horrified by your comment and how it implies he left his studio for sex only. You land back on your chair in the blink of an eye before Jaebeom dives into his plate, stuffing his face and complimenting your cooking and you swear he is about to choke.

Your face turns so red from how hard you are trying not to laugh but you still end up giggling, confusing you boyfriend.

“You fool! You’ve walked right into my trap! It’s not even a very good trap!” You grab your own plate and follow, wriggling when Jaebeom tries to tickle you.

“You freaked me out!” He whines, his cheeks so full it is hard to fully understand him. “I was ready to write a whole essay on how way more important than sex you are.”

You feel proud. “I know, but you need to take care of yourself first. Now eat, we’ll check your…. attendance once you’re done.”

Jaebeom eats faster.

#got7 #jaebeom scenarios #got7 scenarios #got7 scenario #Jaebeom #im jaebeom #lim jaebeom #im jaebum #got7 im jaebeom #got7 im jaebum #jaebeom fanfic #jaebeom imagines #got7 lim jaebeom #got7 jaebeom #got7 jaebum

[mockingjayne12]

Take Me Home

(Jamie x Claire / Outlander Fic)

CHAPTER ONE:

Toes wiggle further underneath the blanket, chipped black varnish sinking her deeper into the darkness she sits in.  Pale freckles against even paler skin, hip bones jutting out through the sliver of space exposed in the stolen, oversized shirt she drowns in.  Half truths burn on her lips, screaming loudly in the settled wine at the bottom of her stomach.  Bound coffee stained words rest in her lap, speaking to a universal yearning for something she can’t utter but felt she’d grasped once before, fleetingly slipping through her gold ringed fingers.  Grown out, curly, dark fringe lays a veil over pools of blue, blearily leaving an image of what once was, the swirling memory of regret that continues to grow.

“You are my home,” she’d whispered to him, tears having threatened to mix with the beauty disguised as chaos, a breath away from ending them both.

For somewhere, once, she thought she had been truly seen, but found she was soon forgotten.

xxxxx

ONE YEAR EARLIER

Claire sets the plate back down, blowing her curly tendrils away from her forehead, an exasperated sigh escaping along with her patience with this day.

“What’s wrong this time?” She hears Rupert ask, bending to see her through the metal of soon to be waiting dishes, the heat lamp setting off a warmth that only leaves her feeling sweaty, her curls threatening to throw a tantrum along with the customers.

“They want the inside of the bread taken out…’too many calories’,” she says, momentarily ditching her English accent to put on her best impersonation of what she knew to be the typical toned voice that frequented the establishment, with a roll of her eyes, letting Rupert know she thought it was just as ridiculous as the raised eyebrows staring back at her.

She doesn’t miss his murmuring curse, and fights back a laugh - Rupert being one of the few friendly faces that has been around as long as she, working the trenches of customer service day in, day out.

Turning to wait for the remade food, she rests against the counter.  It’s a relatively slow day at the restaurant, the lunch crowd having subsided, only the few stragglers, straddling a meal at a time of day that made little sense, but allowing her more time to make a mental list of things she needed to do when she got off.  At the top of the list, stop and get cat food before Adso decided to lay claws to the walls in protest of his lack of sustenance.  

“I just had a guy tell me he wished I had more Daddy issues so I’d work at a strip club,” Claire’s coworker, Gillian, says with a flourish of her hands.

Claire makes a grimace, her face scrunching up in disgust.

“Not even the worst thing I’ve heard this week,” Gillian says with a shrug, blowing off the comment along with all the others that were meant to go in one ear and out the other, an endless cycle of demeaning words thrown at them, expected to be swallowed with a smile all in the name of “customer service.”

Claire traces the silver line indented on her hand, as the plate of remade food makes its appearance once more, ready to be served.

“Thanks, Rupert,” she tosses over her shoulder at the grisly man, Gillian staying behind, waiting for her.

“So are you doing the catering job tonight,” Gillian throws back at her, as Claire comes back to the cutlery station, meticulously folding forks and knives into linen napkins.

“I don’t think so,” she shrugs, blowing her fringe out of her face once more.  An errant curl refusing to submit to her frustration, dangling over her eyes, bouncing with the movement of her head.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Gillian hits Claire’s hip with her side, their heights significantly varied.   A raised brow and a quirk of her mouth suggesting there was no way that this party would be fun in the slightest.

“A bunch of rich, entitled people…” Claire starts, only to be interrupted.

“Eating out of the palms of our hands…literally,” Gillian says with a wink.

“I hope not literally,” Claire teases, sticking out her flat tongue.

“Think of the extra money…and you know, if you happen to meet a rich guy that can give you a good fuck,” she says a bit louder than intended, a customer looking up from their meal.

Claire shoots a knowing glance at her friend.  

Flashing a smile at the appalled woman, Gillian throws her head back.

“I’m gonna pay for that one,” she says with a shake of her head.  “See, now we have to pick it up, because I’m not getting a tip from that prude,” she gestures towards the woman.

“She’s your table, not mine,” Claire says with a smirk.  “I’m going to pass,” she says, putting the linen bundles into their bin.  “I’ve got a new book and I…don’t do actors,” she says with a huff.

“Come on, I’ll drive, it’ll be…”

“If you say, ‘fun’ I’m definitely not doing it,” Claire warns.

“Fine, it’ll be…monetarily beneficial,” she grins.

xxxxx

The flutes of champagne balance precariously on the serving tray Claire carries with her, her hands attempting not to shake enough that she send the gold liquid onto anyone, but as she scans the room of men who think they hold more power than they do, congratulating themselves on being masters of their craft,women lapping up the chance to be in their presence, she can’t help but picture a slip of the hand that’s not so accidental.

Glancing back, she sees the event coordinator motioning for her to smile, and she turns back, her eyes threatening to roll all the way back into her head.

It doesn’t matter, as long as you’re wearing this uniform, you’re invisible, Beauchamp.

The thought echoing a sentiment that had taken root in her for some time, yanking on a thread that could potentially unravel her ever so carefully constructed shield, whose protection she’d shrouded herself in before facing the day, for without it would leave her bare to the thoughts that would surely leave her with nothing but the ugly truth.

Her finger rubs at her hand, her eyes darting around at the extravagant decor of flowers and crystal jewels, only the biggest and best for, whoever this celebration was for.  Another Hollywood party that mattered very little, a host of people begging for the attention that would make a connection, garner them a return for the years of hustle they’d put in.  Exhausting.  The smiles on their faces were likely as fake as the one she now had plastered to her own face, looking more like a grimace than anything close to resembling happiness, as she offered up more alcohol to people that surely didn’t need anymore courage to make bad decisions.

“Whiskey on the rocks, sweetheart,” she hears behind her, turning around to find a balding man with a graying beard and a sinister grin on his face, suggesting he was a man who always got what he wanted, and as his eyes did a slow once over her, catching on the open button of her shirt,  she finds herself wanting to shrink into herself, her hand running over her palm, the bloom of panic tingling, before rising to her full height, which isn’t much shorter than this man, biting her tongue at the urge to tell him to go fuck himself.

“Right away,” she says with a grit of her teeth, quickly turning to head to the bar to grab the request.  Giving the bartender the order, the woman looks as irritated as the rest of them, but throws a knowing grin her way.

“Fucking Americans and their ice,” she mutters under her breath.

“Careful, Sassenach, they might hear ye,” the soft bur of an accent sends a jolt through her, causing her to hit the tray, sending the remaining few glasses of champagne everywhere.  The shattering of glass attracting the attention of the guests only briefly, a stray comment thrown out about clumsy help hitting its target, before they go back to ignoring her.

“Fuck,” she says under her breath.

Turning quickly, she fumbles to pick up the broken glass, a rise of red lighting her cheeks on fire, incensed with anger and frustration.

Reaching for a piece of glass, she sees the tray in question appear before her, an offering to gather the mess she’d created.  Looking up, she sees the man with the voice that had sent her reeling, a mop of curly red hair, looking like it had been attempted to be tamed, but had given up and decided instead to hang in perfect disarray.

“You don’t have to—“ she tries to get out, but he’s already gathered most of the remaining bits of glass onto the tray, peeking at her through his curls she sees a glimpse of blue that seem to pierce her, a flicker of something close to recognition passes through the sea like a wave, gone just as quickly, paired with a grin of understanding bristled in a stubble that begs to prick her finger and break the spell that seems to surround them.

“It’s the least I can do, seeing as it’s my fault,” he shrugs, the grin only growing wider, as he lifts his head, his bent stance has the kilt he’s wearing rucked up to where the muscles in his legs tease her, and she quickly averts her eyes, catching the raise of his eyebrows at having seemingly caught her glance.

“You’re right, it is your fault,” she says, straightening to a stand, and he peers up at her for a second, making her shift nervously from foot to foot before he stands, her eyes catching the glint of a scar contouring his cheekbone in the light.  An imperfection that grounds him in reality.  She moves to push her hair back from her face, having a hard time reconciling what she must look like next to this man.

She hears his gruff laugh, and swears it vibrates through her chest.

“I uhh, didn’t get you, did I?” She asks, her flustered mind only kicking itself at the excuse to roam over the expanse of his chest, slightly soaked, she immediately turns to grab a napkin on the bar, moving to blot his shirt, pressing gently on his chest, only having it dawn on her that she’s touching him when his hand comes to gently grab her wrist.  Her breath momentarily stilted, his fingers warm on her pulse - simultaneously skittering her heart to beat faster while leaving her with a sense of peace, like being held too close to the sun, a tranquil warmth threatening to burst her into flames, she pulls back on reflex, and he lets go, freeing her, instead of keeping hold.

“’Tis alright, Sassenach, a wee bit of spilled alcohol never hurt anyone,” the breath of his words washing over her, and she steps back with the napkin.  Her nose scrunching at the derogatory word he kept using like it was an endearment.  His smile rises at her blowing a stray curl out of her face.  “Especially when it’s champagne, “ he playfully grimaces, clearly not a fan of the bubbly.

“Too true,” she shrugs, turning to grab the whiskey she’d all but forgotten in her haste to completely drown this charming man in her work.  Her usual response to flee begins to rise in her - the calm she’d felt in his presence shifting, as the man whose whiskey she held approached the makeshift stage with a microphone.  “Ugh, here we go,” she rolls her eyes.

“Not a fan?” He asks, looking amused by her clear disdain.

“The only thing worse than actors are the people in charge of them,” she says, before catching the eye of Gillian, a curious smirk on her face, making her way towards Claire.  “Anyway, I hope I didn’t keep you from…whatever it is you’re doing here,” she looks down at his kilt again.  “Are you the entertainment?”

His eyes widen at the suggestion before biting back a laugh.  

“Something like that,” he says with what she swears is a twinkle in his eye.

“And now help me in introducing the reason we’re all here, actor James Fraser…”

The applause of the entire party seems to grow exponentially around her.  Glancing around, she tries to find where the man in question is hiding, until she feels the words whispered in her ear.

“At least I’m not the worst…”

The curly mop of red making his way towards the stage, shirt soaked, kilt  swaying with every step, and a smile that keeps glancing back at her.

Bloody Hell, Beauchamp.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie fraser #claire fraser #jamie x claire

[writtenbyvenus]

Fixing You And I

Marriage is never supposed to be an easy-going experience. While it always will have its up and downs, the couple of Alfred and Ivan are towards their breaking point. Toxic fights, jealously, and cycles of up and down in regards to their relationship, there's no doubt that something has to change. With threats of divorce in the air, the pair seek help to save a relationship that they desperately don't want to end. However, working on themselves proves to be easier said than done, as old wounds and traumas make it challenging for them both to evolve. Ivan's past unhealthy relationships and scarring childhood clashes with Alfred's paranoia and controlling behavior due to the tragic death of his past wife. The question remains: Can the two of them learn to love each other healthily, or will their differences end them up in a courtroom?

"When marriage is difficult, focus on the person you're fighting for, not the person you're fighting with."

Chapter 1: Desperate Attempts 

“Hello! It’s nice to meet you! My name is Emma. Ivan and Alfred, right?”

The pretty, tall woman took a seat in her chair, glancing at the couch in front of her. She had a bright, friendly smile on her face. Her voice had a pleasant accent, somewhat European. It beamed compared to the expression of the two clients, who didn’t seem happy with the situation. The couple looked at the floor, with one with his arms closed, nose in the air. His baby face was ruined with a harsh scowl. His eyebrows pushed together, with hooded eyes that looked tired as if he had cried earlier. The other had his hands placed on his lap, baby blue eyes having a mix of tired and sad. His sharp jaw had a five o’clock shadow as if he is too lazy to shave today. One’s body language appeared hostile, while the other appeared exhausted. The emotionally exhausted one decided to speak up first. “Yeah. I’m Alfred, and this my husband, Ivan.” The man offered a weak smile while pointing to his partner. Looking over to the therapist, Ivan gave a fake smile that took all the strength in his body to produce.  

Emma gave a quick introduction to her professional background, and how couples therapy worked, before turning attention to the couple “So, why don’t you tell me about yourselves? The basics at least.” She asked, clicking her pen to start writing facts about them. Alfred spoke up first again, without much hesitation. “So, I was raised here in Texas, I’m thirty-two years old. I work at my dad’s company as a manager. And Ivan’s….” He trailed off, giving Ivan the chance to say his own introduction, but the man stayed silent. “-Ivan’s thirty-three, and from Russia. He works at an aerospace company doing data processing.” He explained, giving a simple run down. 

Disappointed that Ivan wouldn’t speak up, she cut right to the chase since it seemed all easy banter would come from Alfred’s lips. She took note of his comfortability speaking for Ivan. 

“So, what brings you two into my office?”

Ivan stayed silent, arms still crossed, and looking to the side. Knowing that he wouldn’t speak up until forced, Alfred spoke for him again. “We are having problems… So I thought it would be a good idea to get help…” He readjusted himself, sitting back as he couldn’t be bothered at the moment to sit up straight. The overly confident facade he kept up for most was a pause. The man with a boyish face, who always had a ray of sunshine like grin on his lips, wore a tired expression. One that displayed a mix of frustration and defeat for his current relationship. He desired to be here, in the therapist’s office. However, arguing with his partner to come didn’t help his spirit. Just like a child who didn’t want to go to the dentist, Alfred felt like a parent dragging his kid somewhere. 

The brunette therapist took note of the I statement. The thought of Alfred being the force to bring them to therapy came up, which would explain Ivan’s hostile body language and silence. Clicking the end of her pen, she pointed it at the piece of paper on her clipboard. “So, Alfred, it is your idea to bring you and your husband to therapy?” She asked, testing her theory. Proven correct by his nodding, she picked up on Ivan tensing up and tapping his foot on the floor. “Yeah, I had to force him to come. He hates therapy, but I think we need help. I’m at my wit's end. I-” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. Pushing his glasses to the top of his head, he continued “I told him if he didn’t come, I want a divorce.” Alfred showed frustration, with Ivan’s body twitching at the mention of divorce. The reaction happened right on point as if the word divorce triggered him. 

Hearing the harsh reality of the state of their relationship, she trod lightly on the subject. “So, you both have had the conversation of ending the marriage?” Emma watched Alfred point a finger at himself, looking annoyed. “In a serious way, yes, I have. He, however-” Alfred pointed his finger at his husband, his expression staying. “Is constantly threatening to leave me, so god knows when he’s serious about it. But I am-”

“I am not always threatening to leave you!” Ivan slightly shouted- his voice not raised enough to be considered yelling. His body tensed up, getting more on edge, enough so to speak up. The way he crossed his arms almost turned into him holding his arms down, slightly shaking. Similar to a bottle about to explode, anger could only be kept in for long. Upset at any accusations, the need to defend himself came into play. “You have just given up on us, do not make it look like I want to leave you all the time…” Pouting somewhat childlike, he curled up slightly, his arm crossing tighter than before, and his foot tapping faster. Alfred snorted, waving his hand in his direction. Too tired to argue with Ivan’s inability to confess bad behavior, he kept his eyes on the therapist. “I haven’t given up, on us. I’m here because I want it to work. I love him, more than anything. And he can make me feel like the best man in the world. And I adore him- I just can’t do this-this cycle of… “ Alfred paused to look for the right word. “Toxicity- I can’t. It’s only gotten worse over the years. And I’m done.” He closed his eyes for a moment before sitting back again. 

Emma decided to take control of the conversation before an argument broke out. Her eyes went back and forth during the confrontation, using this moment to take note of their dynamic. While fighting at the beginning of a session is never good, she did notice how Ivan’s body loosened up when Alfred spoke of how much he loved him. His arms were still crossed, but his face appeared more sad than frustrated, with his foot tapping ending. His eyes looked down at the floor as if a million things were running through his mind. 

Writing down a few things, Emma put her hand up in a symbol of ‘pause’. Knowing that starting with talking about the positivity of their relationship would relax the couple. “Let’s take a step back. How about you tell me how you two met? How did you get married? Let’s start positive.” She beamed her usual friendly smile, hoping to inspire a happier mood with the upset couple. 

Deciding to do the talking again, Alfred crossed his arms and looked to the side. “We met through a mutual friend…. We bonded and moved pretty fast.. We kind of met at the perfect time in our lives I think… I…” Alfred looked at the therapist in the eyes. “My wife had passed away when she was, uh, pregnant… I was in a really dark place… And he lit it up…” Alfred looked over to Ivan, his expression much softer as he thought about the beginning of their romance. His mind is filled with memories of Ivan bringing back his smile, the one he’s known for. A person hadn’t made him grin, laugh, and feel loved since the death of his wife, and he became forever grateful for it. This joy is one of the reasons Alfred gave Ivan so many chances, he felt like he owed it to Ivan for pulling him out of such a dark, horrible place. Alfred’s usually happy-go-lucky personality has dimmed down to a depressed, stressed man. While he would never return to the same man he used to be- it was the closest he’d achieve being his old self. That Alfred had died the same day they did. 

Emma frowned and felt her heart crack from Alfred’s story. “I’m so sorry Alfred… That must have been terrible to go through… To have a loss like that…” She took notice of the longing in Alfred’s eyes when he looked over at Ivan. His glossy eyes matched his husband’s, whose whole body language changed at Alfred’s comments. His body relaxed, and his arms unfolded. Turning his head, he looked at Alfred. While not smiling, his face lacked the hostility of earlier. Emma gathered that certain subjects seemed to open Ivan up. As if he couldn’t stay as mad when Alfred spoke like that. They both stared at each other before looking away. “Yeah… It… Losing someone like that changes you…” Alfred said, the tone of his voice sober. While it had been eight years, his voice always went low when he spoke of his late wife. “I bet you felt… renewed meeting Ivan.” She said, with Alfred nodding. “Of course- I felt…. I can’t even put it to words, but yeah…” Taking a deep breath, Alfred attempted to control the feeling of his throat croaking. He didn’t want to cry a couple of minutes in. Sitting up straight, he closed his eyes for a minute. “I don’t think I’ll ever be the same man as I was before. When Bella and the baby died, I don’t know- I” Shaking his head, he struggled to find words to express himself properly. “It was like a piece of me died with them. I always have this empty feeling in my chest- And I’ve accepted it.” 

Emma leaned in, with gentle eyes and frown. “It’s normal to feel that way… People like to tell others how to grieve- that you’ll get ‘over’ it. But it’s not about getting over it per se, but learning how to live with the grief. Learning how to cope and bring back the joy in your life. But never to move on and act as if they don’t exist.” 

Alfred nodded quickly, almost looking relieved and pleased that someone had said that. “Thank you! People tell me that I’ll move on as if I can just forget about the years we spent together. I-“ Shaking his head again, he put his hand in the air, frustrated by his troubles explaining it. “You know what I mean.” 

Emma nodded, taking some notes on Alfred’s past relationships and development with Ivan. She eyed Ivan, whose hand had slowly crept up, and began to softly rub Alfred’s shoulder. The change in the mood caused Ivan to finally open up. “I also was not in a good place either. I had left a very unhealthy relationship… And Alfred was- he was kind… And caring. And he made me feel good about myself. He treated me like a person, and most people do not.” He looked down when he said most, implying that socially, he might not be the most popular or got along with others. Alfred reached his hand out, taking Ivan’s carefully. He rubbed his thumb over his knuckles, his way of saying ‘I love you.’

Emma did an airy laugh, pleased by the display of love. “You two seem… to fall back in quickly, yes?” She observed. They went from angry and giving dirty looks, to holding hands and looking apologetic in a matter of minutes. They both nodded, and while guilty, they showed the first smiles of the session. “Yeah… We do… We get mad… and then makeup… and then get mad again…”

“... And then makeup again.” 

“I can be kinda bad at staying mad at him at times… I don’t know, I’ve always been like that with the ones I love…” Alfred sighed, aware of his own problem of quick forgiveness. He had trouble staying upset with loved ones, especially once they showed remorse. “Ivan knows he can bat his eyelashes and I’ll say it’s alright.” Alfred displayed a smirk, as he’d been married to Ivan long enough to know all his tricks. 

Yet he still fell for them. 

Ivan shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, not enjoying being called out on his manipulative tactics. Alfred has accused him of taking advantage of his kindness and forgiving nature. He didn’t want to admit that he could be manipulative at times; using what he knew about the person to get a step ahead of them. Ivan enjoyed playing with a full deck of cards, and when someone else was at his level, he panicked. It became part of his attraction to Alfred, and part of the reason why they’d fight. Alfred’s strong personality and lack of fear to stand up to Ivan and speak his mind proved to be a rare quality people had. Ivan’s aura oozed intimidation; even if he wasn’t trying too. His smile caused people to look nervously to the side and give in to his demands. Ivan found the trait to be a blessing and a curse. Amazing when he wanted to get something out of the person, but awful when he desired a genuine relationship with someone. Only certain personalities could cope with Ivan, and he had enough self-awareness to realize it. 

“Well… You do not always forgive me, straight away at least… There have been many times you’ve stayed upset.” Attempting to counter Alfred's statement, it only won an eye roll from the man. “Well- of course, I’ll be mad for a while sometimes… but I always forgive you. You’re the one with grudges-” Alfred’s rant was interrupted by their therapist, who was trying to avoid an upcoming yelling match. 

“Alright, let us stay away from you statements and accusations. Bickering back and forth isn’t going to help us. If it doesn’t work at home, it won’t work here.” Emma’s voice got a bit more stern. “Fights to hand-holding, to fights again. You two are very up and down it appears, would you agree?” She asked, watching as both parties looked at each other, before looking away again and nodding. She then asked a question that she had a gut feeling would make either both or at least one uneasy. 

“I want to know… Do you two think that you both, how do I say this-” She paused for a moment before looking up and thinking of the correct translation in English. “Feed off the chaos? As in you hate it- but another part of you thrives with it? Ivan, I want to hear your opinion first.” She offered a small smile to her hard question. Emma decided on asking Ivan first due to his lack of speaking earlier, as she couldn’t have Alfred do all the talking, she needed Ivan’s side.

The question made the man look at his lap. He nervously played with the end of his scarf, he didn’t know what to say. He could say ‘No, of course not’, to save his pride. To reject all responsibility from the situation. Staying silent, he didn’t want to admit the rush of emotions when he and Alfred fought and made up. He’d feel alive. There was a possibility that Ivan couldn’t even recognize it himself. Getting stressed, he kept looking in his lap with a blank look, almost in a daze until Alfred lightly squeezed his shoulder. The man jerked and sat up a tad bit higher as if he were just abruptly woken from sleep. 

Looking back and forth, he mustered up an answer in the middle of yes and no: “I don’t know… Maybe… No idea…” Crossing his arms again, his eyes stayed on the wall, looking at the details of the pretty light yellow paint: his favorite color. Alfred sighed, waiting for his answer to turn. “I don’t think I do? It’s what’s stressing me out. At least I don’t think I do…” He shrugged, not wanting to think he was the type of person who thrived off of chaos. He enjoyed their light bickering and banter, fun arguing that was playful. It isn’t until it turned to someone crying or yelling where the enjoyment stopped. 

Emma accepted the ‘maybe’ answers for now. Tapping her fingers on her paper, figuring out the triggers of fights might help her dissect their behavior. “I’ll go back to that later. Ivan, I want you to tell me something that you and Alfred fight about often, something that upsets you.” She emphasized on the you and me, not wanting him to deliver the message to Alfred, more her. Delivering it to Alfred now would only end in another bickering match.

Ivan played with his scarf again, a nervous habit. It took him only a moment to bring up a topic that made Ivan beyond insane at times: jealousy. 

“I do not like his… friends.. And I do not trust him with them. He is very flirtatious… “ Ivan’s face turned sour as he thought of every pretty face his husband hung around. Alfred had a charismatic personality. Tons of friends, the life of the party. Knew how to make people laugh, easy-going. Fun. Alfred tended to attract beautiful people, and he’d grown to turn every friend of Alfred’s into an enemy. Competition.  “... And I think a lot of them like him, and I will not deal with some…-” He paused, trying not to use harsh wording, “person stealing my husband.”

The comment made Alfred groan and roll his eyes. His expression read annoyance, with a frown on his lips. “This shit again. Oh my god.” The number of arguments, yelling, and broken things in their house due to Ivan’s freakouts over his relationships with his friends was enough stress to last a lifetime. The bright blond could only sulk as he became sick of dealing with a trait he viewed Ivan having: insecurity. 

Emma held up her hand to calm Alfred, preventing a fight. “Alfred, it’s Ivan’s turn.” She said, taking note of how it was the first topic brought up by Ivan. “So you don’t trust him with his friends? Is there a… history of cheating?” She asked, wondering if a part of that would prove to be the source of stress. Ivan shook his head, looking upset still. “Not that I know of.. I have thought at times that he has.. But he proved innocent…” But before it could sound like Ivan could be looking past his own insecurities, he proved this trait again by backtracking.

“.... So far…” 

Alfred’s hands rolled up into a fist, trying not to blurt things out since it was Ivan’s turn. The two ending words disappointed Emma since his wording almost appeared as if he wasn’t still suspicious of Alfred. Sadly, old habits die hard. Things clicking together in her head, she asked one more question. “Alright. What does Alfred do that makes you think he might be cheating on you?” She wrote down on her paper ‘feelings of insecurity towards Alfred regarding loyalty’, under her Ivan tab. Ivan tapped his fingers on his leg as he looked up, his soft face having a child-like pout. “He.. he…” Ivan scrambled for words that wouldn’t make him look crazy. A word he got accused many times by Alfred. 

“-I think he can just be too friendly.. And flirty… And he is constantly out and about, drinking, with friends….” He trailed on. His voice was low, then high as if he was trying to convince himself of something. “Texting soooo many people. Too many people.” He puffed his cheeks a bit, adding on to some of his child-like habits. Redness rushed to his face, the feeling of slight embarrassment filling his stomach. His heart would hurt every time he saw a friend of his touch his arm. Or hug him, wrap their arms around him for too long. Giggles and grins, with starstruck glances. They all adored Alfred, and it despised every second of it.

“... Do you feel scared? That you’ll lose him? That someone’s going to take him away from you?”

Ivan nodded, his eyes looking upset as he glanced at Alfred and let out a sad laugh. “Of course! Look at him. How am I supposed to compare?!” He covered his mouth as if those comments were a slip-up. Feeling exposed, he placed his hands in his lap and glanced back at the light yellow wall. Being vulnerable with a stranger proved changeling, he didn’t want to confess. The verbal mishap made him jittery, he wished he could run out of the room, but he was bound to his seat, forced to have someone analyze and look into him. Uncomfortable. Body language stiffened, his palms getting sweaty, 

Emma’s eyes widened a bit at the confession and reaction, while Alfred looked disheartened and unsurprised. Nothing new revealed; Alfred knew his husband, he’d spent over five years with this man. And out of anything, Alfred knew Ivan's self-hate. In a passionate fight or drunk, it would seep out. Or small comments when feeling insecure. Ivan’s facade of confidence could be wiped away easily by people who truly knew him. 

‘How doesn’t he see what I see?’

A disappointed sigh escaped Alfred’s lips as he closed his eyes. “Baby… I just- I don’t know how many times I gotta tell you that I love you and only you. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong…” Alfred rested his elbows on his thighs as he put his head in his hands. With mixed emotions, he couldn’t help but blame himself. He felt a pitch in his heart hearing Ivan speak like that. Almost as if he’s failed as a lover. A husband, unable to make the center of his world feel loved and secure. It had been five years of him telling his adored that he is smart, funny, beautiful, and kind. That he wanted children with him, a family. That nothing made him happier than to lay next to him in bed, and whisper sweet talk into his ear. Holding his hand, and placing kisses on his knuckles, the list filled with many small and large acts. 

“.... It is not you, Alfred….” Ivan’s eyes went over Alfred's slumped figure. In a low whisper, only loud enough for his husband and therapist to wear, he let out his first ownership of responsibility in their chaos; “... It is me… It has always been me.” He sighed, placing his hand on his back. The hand made Alfred sit up, looking back at him. Their eyes met for a moment before it all became too much for Ivan. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his hands sweaty, and arms slightly shaking. Panicked. Showing all his cards left him feeling defenseless. And all in front of a stranger. 

“Ivan, do you want too-”

“-I… can... can we come again in a few days? I-....” Ivan could barely form sentences in English, he wished he could speak in his native tongue. Translating when stressed typically ended in mistranslations. “I need some time. To gather my thoughts, yes…” Looking back and forth, he did not want to talk about any of this right now. He didn’t want Emma asking why he felt that way about himself, or what his childhood was like, or what his ex-boyfriend was like; none of it. Anything that required memories couldn’t be spoken of. Shifting uncomfortably, Ivan kept his eyes down. Alfred seemed surprisingly calm while Ivan quietly freaked out. He placed a hand on his upset husband’s shoulder, rubbing it carefully as he attempted to soothe him. “It’s alright, we can come back in a few days…”

Emma nodded, as it wasn’t the first time she’s seen someone get upset, especially at the first session. Pleased to see that Alfred’s comforting seemed to bring the anxious look down, she decided not to argue about the session being cut short. “It is completely alright! I understand. When you two want to revisit this we can.” Staying calm, she shook Alfred’s hand, who whispered a small ‘I’ll call you later.’ to her. 

A few moments later, the couple was out of her office. Taking a deep breath, she looked at her piece of paper and raised a brow. 

“I really hope they come back.” She said to herself in French. 

``````````````````````````````````````````

Parking in the driveway of their house, the couple was just as silent as they were during the entire car ride. Ivan spent it looking out the window, while Alfred kept looking back and forth between him and the road. Worried, he wondered when he would be able to get Ivan to open like that up again. They sat in silence for a moment until, by Alfred’s surprise, Ivan spoke up. “I’m sorry… I simply… I don’t know…” His words went quieter as he trailed off again, looking at his lap and then at Alfred. ‘He probably thinks I did this on purpose…’ The thought bounced around in his already frantic head. Alfred knew already that he hated therapy, what would stop him from thinking this is only an act?

“I know it’s hard for you to open up like that in front of strangers… Just promise me you’ll go back with me?” Alfred asked, raising a brow. He looked a bit tired, but his expression displayed a bit softer than earlier. His hand crept up to hold Ivan’s, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. “I felt like we were going somewhere. I want us to work, okay?” His voice cracked at the last word; he meant it. While he hadn’t heard a lot in therapy, it gave him some light at the end of the tunnel. He gulped as his eyes got watery, his other hand running through his own hair. 

Seeing Alfred’s caring reaction, he reached over and pulled him into a tight hug. His own eyes starting to water, he nuzzled his face into his shoulder. 

“Of course.” 

[ Link to Ao3 ]

#rusame #amerus #aph america #aph russia #fanfiction #i love hurt/comfort don't come for me #the second chapter is mad tense #have a nice day yeehaw

[whereshiphappens]

91 + lashton !!! 😏

anonymous  asked:

Can you do 12 with Lashton? It's been too long since I read one about them 😭

Lashton (5sos)  + 91. “You look beautiful in the moonlight.” + 12. “I think you’re forgetting something…”

Canon Universe, set somewhere in 2017, while working on the album Youngblood.

~1,642 words

A/N: Hi guys!! Ok, i literally gasped when i read number 91 and you both asked for lashton just one after the other and oh god the memories!! I hope you dont mind i put these two together, i had so much fun writing this thank you so much! honestly!!! i love you both thank you so so so much for this! i didnt proof read, so im very sorry for mistakes.

i hope you like it! let me know xx

-

-

“What are you doing?”

With a sudden jolt, Luke’s fingers slip from the strings of the guitar he’s holding, and there’s a gasped ‘Jesus!’ that escapes his lips as Ashton’s voice breaks the silence.

The older boy makes an amused sound as he steps out onto the balcony anyway, “sorry didn’t mean to startle you or anything.”

Luke shakes his head “‘S alright, I thought everyone was asleep already,” he justifies. 

“Is that why you’re out here in the dark?” Ashton asks as he steps out to the large balcony out of the living room. It’s a temporary place they’re staying at - someone’s holiday house or some shit, for the couple of days they’re supposed to hang around for work. 

It’s nice though, and although away from the confusion of the city this particular spot has a great view over its lights.

Luke looks up at Ashton from where he’s sitting on the floor, against the wall. “Didn’t want to wake anyone up,” Luke says.

Ashton turns to him, smiles a little “you’re lucky I didn’t lock you out by mistake.”

Luke lets out a chuckle, “eh, it’s not that cold out here and there’s a lot of floor to sleep on.” Ashton scoffs, as he moves to sit down next to Luke on the floor.

“I think you’re forgetting something, Liz would still absolutely kick my ass if I was the reason you caught a cold,” Ashton says, and it makes Luke laugh with his whole body, guitar to the side as the doubles over a little. And Ashton smiles.

Luke’s laugh, the genuine kind is so rare these days that Ashton feels his chest fill up with something warm anytime he hears it. It’s such a welcome change from the quiet, frustrated, sulking, hurt version of Luke he’s been living around these last weeks. 

His laughs dies down slowly and Ashton leans into him, bumping him with his shoulder a little, asks “are you okay?” in a quiet, careful tone. He needs to ask. 

Ashton knows that’s a dumb question because, no, Luke isn’t okay, Luke hasn’t been okay for the longest time after that girl entered his life, made a mess of it, and then left leaving everything burning in her wake. Ashton has been living with him for some time now, and he knows, he sees that Luke isn’t okay and that’s why he needs to ask.

Luke sighs, takes the guitar and leans his head back against the wall. Takes his time to answer, “Yeah, I just had this melody in my head…” he trails off, bites his lip as he stares into the horizon, “was trying to find more words for it.”

Ashton looks over at him “more?” incites him to share.

Luke gives him a smile, it’s soft and it’s sad. He looks down at his lap, “‘wish we had never met, wish I knew how to erase you’”

Ashton’s feels his heart sink. His eyes don’t leave Luke’s face, look all over his profile and this angers creeps up on him, this frustration and most of all this helplessness. It’s so unfair. It’s so fucking unfair that he sees Luke like this everyday, that he’s right here next to him and somehow can’t help him, no matter what he does.

“Luke,” he whispers, his hand falls on Luke’s leg, squeezes a little in reassurance just above his knee, because obviously he knows who this is about. He wishes he could pluck her from Luke’s memory with his own hands.

Luke hums, scrunches up his face and shakes his head ever so slightly, telling Ashton to let it be, that he doesn’t really need to say anything, instead continues, “It doesn’t fit right into the melody, though,” Luke says instead, forcing this light tone that doesn’t match the tension in the air at all, “the metric of it isn’t right.”

Ashton turns back to look at Luke, and his chest is still aching and his hands are still itching to take all that pain away from his brain. 

And then he figures Luke is already trying to do that - with mismatched words to a melody in his head and a guitar in his lap.

He swallows and takes a breath, says “what’s it sounding like?”

Luke shakes his head again, “I can’t make the words fit.”

“Just the melody then,” Ashton replies, voice soft and his hand lost still on Luke’s leg, “I’ll help you fit them.”

In silence, Luke turns his head searches Ashton’s face with his brow furrowed and he knows just then that this is about more than just this one song. He feels this wave of appreciation filling him up, a sudden rush of affection and gratitude and even guilt as he looks at Ashton and thinks about how he’s been keeping him from falling apart like the broken mess he feels for the longest time.

He starts humming the melody in his head softly, works out the chords to it and after a while of repeating it, Ashton hums with him as he looks up at the sky instead.

“Wish we’d never met…” Luke sings softly, fitting it to the melody after a little, trails off, and Ashton perks up a little, asks him to repeat it and he does.

“...wish I knew how to forget,” Ashton sings, and it fits. They look at each other and Luke smiles a little, again that soft but sad smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and he sings again.

“Now I wish we’d never met, cause you’re too hard to forget,” his fingers stop moving over the strings, Ashton’s eyes shoot up searching his face again and Luke bites his lip, closes his eyes as his breathing comes out ragged and unsteady.

“Luke,” Ashton starts, doesn’t really know what to say, turns his body towards Luke just as he other boy takes the guitar and puts it to the side with a mumbled fuck under his breath that Ashton catches anyway.

Luke brings his hands to his face, elbows supported on his bent knees and rubs at it for a second as if chasing his thoughts away and Ashton’s hand comes up to his arm this time around. “Hey man, it’s alright,” he whispers, trying to reassure him.

After a second, Luke takes his face off his hands to look up at the sky instead - Ashton can see, with a brow furrowed in worry, how shiny his eyes look. 

Once again, that helplessness crawls under his skin and he wants to hold him.

“Why is everything so much more fucked at night?” Luke says instead, in this quiet, thoughtful tone of voice, still looking up at the stars, “why does everything ugly come out when it’s dark?”

The hand that Ashton had on his arm slides down to his hands instead, “I don’t think it’s ugly. It’s raw and that makes it scary,” he says in the same quiet voice, gives Luke’s hand another reassuring squeeze. Luke catches it just as he’s letting go.

“It’s still messy.” There’s something in Luke’s eyes as he turns his head to look at Ashton. The older boy holds his gaze and feels his heart crack a little bit more as he sees the hurt and heartbreak and anger in his eyes. “I’m messy and so fucked up.”

And that, right there, is the reason why the frustration and anger creeps up on Ashton from time to time from seeing Luke like this. How can someone deliberately do this to another person? Fuck their trust up so bad, throw them into this never ending cycle of heartbreak and anger and self loathing and insecurities and somehow never leave their mind?

How is it fair?

How come she gets to break Luke’s heart into a million pieces, get away with it, and still she’s all he can think about?

Ashton hates it. She’s the one putting these thoughts in his mind, she’s the reason he thinks he’s broken now, that all that’s left after her are the ugly incomplete parts. Ashton hates it so much.

“It’s real, Luke.” he says, instead, pulls at Luke’s hand and makes him turn his body a little bit as he perks up himself, detaching from the wall to face Luke completely. “It’s real, it means that you’re trying to heal. It’s not going to be dark forever. You’re not irreparably broken, you’re not messed up, and I still think you look beautiful, in the moonlight.”

They fall quiet. Luke is staring at Ashton, his mouth slightly open, like he wants to say something. Their hands are still clasped together and neither one is moving for a second, before Ashton with a pink colour rising to his cheeks breaks eye contact first and pulls to take his hands back. Luke holds on to them.

“No, wait,” he says suddenly. He can’t get hold of his thoughts, not really, but his body is moving forward, “wait,” he whispers again, soft, watching Ashton watch him come closer his chest rising and falling faster than before. That wave of affection washes over Luke once again and he doesn’t really know what to do with himself, feels it overflowing and he can’t think properly.

“Luke,” Ashton whispers back, like a warning, so soft. It has no heat, not really, and Luke repeats “wait,” begging him to keep that thought on hold, to hold it for a few seconds to just… wait.

His lips touch Ashton’s slowly first. The tiniest of touches and Ashton’s eyes flutter shut as he exhales like he’s been holding a gasp in.

Then, in a sudden move, Ashton’s hands come to Luke’s neck and both boys move to crash against each other in a heated kiss, holding on to each other.

And it’s raw, it’s scary, it’s messy.

But it feels real.

#lashton #~drabble #fuck i love lashton so much .____. #Anonymous

[minnochu]

Lustrous (pt. 14)

Hybrid!Kook x Fem!Reader AU

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Pt 10 | Pt 11 | Pt 12 | Pt 13 | Pt 14 | Pt 15 | Pt 16 | Pt 17 | Pt 18 | Pt 19

(A/n): Hiya! Welcome back to another update! I can’t even believe it myself that I managed to update so soon after the last one ahhh. I was so excited to write this and can’t wait for the next upcoming parts so please enjoy! Much love to you all!

NOTE: Small little warning that this part contains minor gore? Probably not as graphic as my other fic Interference was, but still kind of yucky so be warned!

Another note to the note: Sorry if this was a bit sloppy or there’s many mistakes, I tried going through it as quickly as possible. Also, I will update links and masterlist schtuff when I get home from uni so bear with me!!

..

Through it all, Jungkook continued to not understand why he felt the way he did. Why were you so important to him? Why jump head first into this when Yoongi could’ve done so? 

What Hyejin had said to him before the mind meld continued to pick at his brains. Was this all because of the imprinting? He didn’t know. And that annoyed him. 

After the three of you returned from the mind meld ritual, your memories returned and fortunately, everyone returned unscathed. The others had mentioned Jungkook’s struggle in the beginning, but he waved it off, washing the dried up blood that had spilled from his mouth. That was another thing bothering him. Why was he at that cursed laboratory again? It resurfaced past memories he despised and kept in the back of his brain, but the mind melding had brought it back.

Following the return, Hyejin never left your side, reprimanding you for trusting Taehyung and offering to let you stay at her place but you all knew that you were safer here than anywhere else. Hyejin had been filled in on the details of your powers and such, giving in when she knew this was something only they could handle not a mortal like herself. 

Before she left, she motioned for Jungkook to follow her out. Despite the frown that etched its way across his pouty lips, he relented and followed her outside. The others looked at one another, but knew not to interfere between those two. Only you had no idea what there was between the hybrid and your friend or why it made you feel weird on the inside.

“I’m not gonna scream at you to stay away from her if that’s what you’re expecting,” she sighs as the boy closes the front door behind him. The mortal steps off the door step and onto the wooden planks of the porch. The ritual didn’t take more than an hour, but it still felt it had to the hybrid. 

He shrugs nonetheless, leaning himself back against the wall beside the door, “You reek of anger, I’d be surprised if you wouldn’t scream.”

“I just don’t want her to get hurt Jungkook. I know she’s safer with you all, but I just can’t trust that it’s you she’s most fond of,” she exhales heavily, turning over to stare out into the forest, “I don’t want--”

“I know,” he interrupts firmly, not meaning to let out the low growl that sounds from his chest, “Sorry… I just… I know and you know too that I tried my best to keep her at an arm’s length.”

“And yet you imprinted on her?!” Hyejin snaps back before sucking in a breath and calming her nerves, repeating with a softer tone, “...You imprinted on her…of all things…”

Imprinting. He wanted to forget about that. It didn’t make him feel any better about the way he was starting to act and feel around you but what Hyejin said smacked him in the face. 

“Protect her please,” Hyejin whispered, already knowing what he must’ve been mulling over in his head.

He didn’t answer.

He couldn’t look at you anymore after that. Hyejin went home and he went back inside. He gave little emotion or response as he locked himself in his room. There was too much on his mind, and he just couldn’t figure out what it was that bothered him about the whole imprinting situation and what he felt towards you. 

“Jungkook?” Your voice called out to him once the sun lowered in the west and the moon took its place. By that time, he skipped dinner and continued to lay sprawled out over his bed and staring blankly at the ceiling. 

That’s right, he thought, ignoring the way his heart beat faster at the sound of his name on your lips. You were staying in his room for the time being, but he wasn’t ready to see you just yet. Why did his heart beat? Was it himself, or was it his wolf? Damn the imprinting for turning him into this mess of feelings. If he hadn’t imprinted on you, then would he still have this peculiar affection towards you? 

He didn’t answer. 

You were confused and worried, wondering why he had gone outside to talk with Hyejin before returning and looking as though something was bothering him. You asked Seokjin about it at dinner, but he smoothly dodged the question and changed the subject. Yoongi was the only one who answered curtly that it was something you would have to talk to Jungkook about, but currently he was avoiding you. 

He could smell the worry from outside the door, and suddenly he felt the urge to rip the door open and comfort you. Was that really what he wanted? He didn’t know. It made it complicated that he couldn’t tell the difference between his own feelings and what he was forced to feel due to the imprinting. 

“It’s best to leave him alone for a while,” Yoongi’s voice sounds from the hallway, “Take my bed, I’ll sleep in the living room instead.”

Jungkook’s mind went blank. His heart clenched in pain as his mind began to race with thoughts of refusal at the offer. 

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no! 

It drove him mad the whole night. The thought of you sleeping in another wolf’s bed, made his insides burn with distraught and fury. 

And yet he decided he just couldn’t do anything about it while he was trying to figure himself out and how he felt about you. 

The days passed and you would go back to school, although he would keep his distance and leave it up to Jimin and Taehyung to watch after you.

“This has been going on for longer than I thought it would, what’s wrong with you?” Yoongi interrupts the hybrid in the middle of his homework one day, holed up in his room as usual. 

Pursing his lips, he turned away with a curt, “Nothing.”

The older wolf grins as he closes the door behind him and plops onto the bed beside the youth. The mattress dips underneath the addition as Yoongi hooks an arm around Jungkook’s neck into a headlock.

“Come on now, I can smell how fucking jealous you are from a mile away. You can’t just tell me it’s nothing when Hoseok and I have been sleeping in the living room for the past week... it’s not good for the back you know?”

Jungkook continues to stay silent, unsure what to make of his feelings and insecurities in front of his hyung. He notices this and releases the younger from his hold.

“If it means anything Kookie-ah, she’s really worried. It’s all up to you really, but you can’t just keep her in the dark like this.”

“And what? Tell her my oh-so tragic backstory and how I imprinted on her? She’ll reject me, she’ll think I’m playing with her feelings. What if my wolf is the only thing making me attracted to her? What’s going to stop her from being repulsed by the thought that my feelings aren’t genuine?!”

Silence. 

And then Yoongi quirks a brow, “So you admit you have feelings for her?” 

“Th-that’s not the point hyung!” Jungkook’s face goes red with embarrassment and frustration, his fist flying towards the wolf’s face on instinct. 

Catching it in his palm, Yoongi shakes his head with a click of his tongue, “I don’t think you understand what it really means for a wolf to imprint on someone. Sure it’s complicated when you’ve imprinted on a hum... I mean witch... but you’ve gotta let yourself accept it or else you’ll keep hurting yourself. No one’s saying it but all you’re doing right now, is running away like a mutt.”

He rises to leave when the other refuses to reply, “Let me give you some food for thought. What’s the difference between Hyejin and (Y/n)? What sets them apart?”

Frowning, the hybrid doesn’t have the answer to his question, nor dos he want to think about it right now.

And Jungkook returns to his cycle of avoiding you once again.

Fed up with his obvious avoidance, you decided to take matters into your hands. The worst he could do was go vampire-wolf on you, but you knew that was just not something he’d do. 

“Jimin,” you tug the wolf by his sleeve until he pauses mid step to regard you with a cock of his head. Taehyung notices the two of you have stopped walking back home, and halts as well. They notice your fidgeting fingers, your scent heavy with nervousness. 

“Can you… somehow get Jungkook alone with me?”

The wolf grins cheekily at that, “If I didn’t know any better (Y/n), I would think you’re about to jump our maknae.”

Your cheeks flare a bright red hue at the implication before you wildly wave your hands in front of you. “N-no! I just…” You trail off, obviously embarrassed by your own words.

His toothy smile widens. Placing a hand over your head, he nodded in understanding, “I’m teasing you (Y/n), we’ll do our best, right Tae?”

The vampire replies with a nod, smiling warmly at you. It was the least he could do after he continued to feel guilty about the whole memory manipulation ordeal.

Later on, you would wait in Taehyung and Jimin’s shared room while they made an excuse for Jungkook to go there. Soon, you can hear multiple footsteps outside, along with the muffled voices of the three boys before the door opens and the hybrid steps in. Your scent meets his nose right away and he turns abruptly to escape as soon as possible. However, Jimin smiles cryptically at the younger as he turns around in effort to leave. His eyes flash a mischievous glint of gold as he lays a hand over Jungkook’s chest.

“Sorry Kookie-ah,” He snickers before shoving him backwards with added force via supernatural strength.

He could totally knock down the door, he thought as he attempted at the door knob to find it magically locked. Was Seokjin-hyung in on this as well? That didn’t matter. Right now, he was not ready to face you just yet as he sorted out his feelings. But he couldn’t stop the way his stomach flipped and heart drummed louder in his ears. Glancing at you, he couldn’t help but long for the days he let himself freely be around you. It was more over the fact that he was too unstable with controlling his vampiric side, but that he didn’t know how to look at you anymore. Did he like you? Or was his wolf forcing him to like you? The more he thought about it, the more questions he had unanswered and it left him in a frustrated stump. 

Then you spoke, and his world began to blur until it was only you he saw. It was your voice in his head, and he couldn’t tell if he hated or loved it. 

“Jungkook, I don’t know what happened or why you don’t want to see me anymore… but I hate this! I know it’s not my place to know what happened between you and Hyejin or whatever happened in your past, but I hate that you just won’t look at me anymore and I don’t know why!” You frowned, and he felt the urge to want to do anything and everything he could to wipe it away.

He grew red in the face. Not from anger, nor embarrassment, more of holding his breath before finally relenting and taking you by the hand. “Hold on,” he muttered under his breath as he walked towards the window. Flipping the lock, he used his free hand to pull the window up and open. Turning towards you, he tugged lightly on your hand in his. Letting yourself be pulled, you felt his arms slide underneath the crook of your knees and around your back. Biting your lip, you looked away in poor effort to hide your embarrassment. 

Blue bled across his irises as he hopped from the window and ran through the woods. Pursing your lips, you glanced up at the concentration in Jungkook’s expression, his mouth pulled into a taut line as he held you close to his warmth. Smiling softly, you leaned your head on his shoulder, relishing in his scent that you had missed for the last few weeks or so.

Eventually, he’d come to stop at a creek, a small pond in the middle of the forest where he came many times before to clear his head or be by himself. Setting you down on the mossy ground, he beckoned you over to a patch of land along the shore that was slightly raised in a hill-like appearance. You both sat down, finding a patch of dirt where the moss didn’t grow. Where the pond was located, the trees cleared and created an opening within the forest to let sunlight shine over the clear waters. Rocks of varying sizes scatter around the body of water along with tufts of wild grass sprouting around and within the pond. Looking closer, you could spot a grey scaled fish with orange fins swimming idly among the various underwater plants. In another instance, you watch as a small frog dives into the shallow water, leaving behind a circular ripple from where it dove into the liquid.

Around the two of you, birds chirp and sing softly in the background, accompanied by the occasional ruffle of the leaves of the surrounding brush. A rabbit, maybe, you thought as Jungkook continued to watch the water silently. Following his gaze, you almost miss the minuscule water strider, standing still on the surface of the pond. 

“It’s beautiful,” You whisper as spot the movements of a squirrel racing up a tree trunk with his cheeks full.

The hybrid turns his head slightly and nearly forgets how to breathe. Blinking once then twice to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. It was at that moment, he glanced at you, bathed in the sunlight beside him as you watched the happenings of the forest with a serene smile, he thought you were fucking beautiful. More beautiful than the scenery you were complimenting. 

“Jungkook?” 

He snaps out of his reverie, cheeks blooming with a shy pink hue. A soft giggle makes it passed your puckered lips as he turns back to you with a frown. 

“I found this place years ago, it became somewhere I could run to when I need a minute to calm down.”

“It’s very calming,” you hum in agreement, watching as the frog from before hops onto a floating lily pad, “Thank you for showing me this place.”

“Yeah…” he agrees curtly, focusing his attention on the ground where a patch of orange wild flowers have grown. Silently, he lets his fingers brush over the petals of each. 

“So?” You ask, leaning forward to rest the side of your head on your bent knees. The action is minuscule as you gaze at him with a gentle upturn of your lips, but he finds you so so pretty that he has to look away again to fight off the blood rushing to his face. 

“You gotta tell me what’s up Jungkook, I won’t know what to do if all you do is avoid me…” You start out carefully, “It’s absolutely your choice whether or not you tell me… I just want you to trust me... like I trust you.“

“You’re just like me, right?” you quote after him with a sly glint in your eyes and he relents. 

That was just unfair, he thought.

“I guess it’s only fair that you know about my past, if I know yours.”

The hybrid shifts to face his body towards you and you mirror the movement. You cross your legs as he rises onto his knees. Holding your breath, you watch as he scoots forward, leaning his upper body closer to you. Your heart beats faster, as he gazes hesitantly back and forth between your eyes and down at the ground, and you’re afraid he’ll hear it. And he can, if only he weren’t so conscious of the sound of his own heart. 

“I would tell you, but I think it’s better if you take a look yourself.” The wolf took your hands in his, his heart flipping at the contact before he swallowed down the feeling and placed each hand over his temples. 

“W-wait,” You stammer, “I’m not going to hurt you will I?” 

You had a point, after the two times you and the pack had to deal with anything having to do with memories and the mind.

“Stay calm, and you shouldn’t do much as give me a slight headache,” He offers a meek attempt at a joke as both of your eyes slip close and the amber stone resting over your chest begins to glow. Just like mind meld, your whole being and surroundings vibrate wildly before you reopen your eyes to find yourself in a home. It seemed normal, like any other family home. Looking down, you examined your body to find it looking almost transparent as if you were ghost in this world. 

Walking around, you find yourself standing at the entertainment system where many picture frames sit. Your hand moves through one, proving your ghostly state, so you opt to bending slightly to look at the photo of a young boy smiling with three other people. You deduce him to be Jungkook with how similar the two look, the other possibly being his parents and a brother. 

“I’m home!” A voice chirps loudly and in comes the said boy. You turn, wide-eyed, as the boy passes through you easily and runs into the kitchen. Following after him, you soften at the sight of Jungkook running into the arms of his mother, who had been cooking dinner for the family. 

Days pass as though the fast forward button on a television remote had been pressed, and you watch as Jungkook grows up. At one particular moment, you watch in the dimly lit confines of the hybrid’s room as the boy snuggles close to his mother and father. The three stare at the ceiling where she and her husband had stuck glow-in-the-dark stars to the ceiling. Each night, they’d tell him tales and stories of the stars. 

On this particular night, little Kook stood up on the mattress suddenly and grinned at his parents, “Mommy! Father told me that the stars and the moon moved when he met you and he burst into flames!” 

“He did what now?” she giggled as her husband caught her leer and laughed nervously.

Shaking her head, she hooked a finger under the left pant leg of his pajamas to tug him back to lying down with them.

“Let me teach you something Kookie-ah,” his father chuckled heartily as he wrapped an arm over both his youngest son and wife, “When I said the stars and moon moved, that was when I knew your mother and I were fated.”

“Fated?” He repeats with a confused blink of his eyes.

“Yes fated, the day I met your mother I felt the world shifting around me, it felt like hm… like I just drank lots of hot chocolate until my belly felt hot!” Jungkook giggles at that, “And nothing else mattered to me except your mother, I wanted to be anywhere she was, we were soulmates if you’d like to put it that way… She and I were fated to be with one another... like a perfect match.”

“I’d do anything and be anything for her regardless if she rejected me or not. Even if she had rejected this old fool, I would continue to fall more and more in love with her.”

“What if mommy said no?”

“Then I would die.”

Jungkook’s mother glares pointedly at the man, her eyes flashing a dangerous gold.

“I’m kidding! Then your dad would hurt really really bad!”

The woman growls teasingly at her fated before leaning down to press a kiss to her son’s forehead. Her slender fingers brushing strands of his sooty hair that fell over his eyes.

“One day, you will also imprint on a lucky little she-wolf too…”

You frown at that, top teeth pressing into the plush of your bottom lip at the thought of Jungkook being fated to be with another she-wolf. Where was the chance that he’d ever be fated to you, a mortal siphoner, right? 

Then you paused. Why were you so worried about that? 

Soon, the world shifts suddenly, almost making you dizzy as you witness the kidnapping years later when Jungkook has reached seventh grade and Junghyun, his brother, has reached 9th. The two are knocked out with blows to the back of their necks from pursuers that had been following them for the past week. You watch with a hand covering your mouth, as if you could make any noise to alert anyone, while the two men haul the children over their shoulders before disappearing in the blink of an eye. 

Vampires, you thought as you grimaced. 

Jeon Jungkook and Junghyun would not be making it home safely that night. Their mother and father would search day and night for their missing children with no luck. 

The next time your world shifts, you find yourself in a warehouse, the inside expansive as it holds numerous amounts of crates, cages, and equipment. Any and every window is covered by sloppily nailed on wooden boards, covering the building in darkness aside from the few light bulbs hanging from the high ceiling that do little work in lighting up the large space. Walking through the paths the clutter of items create like a maze, you can’t help but feel sick to your stomach. You pass several cages and can barely keep yourself from looking away from the amount of were-creatures kept captive inside the rusting bars. Most have given up hope, sitting silently with eyes devoid of any light. Their skinny bodies shiver, barely clothed and covered in bruises and cuts. Some are already long dead, you find as the malnourished creatures take to eating their rotting cage mates, making you gag in horror and disgust. 

When you stop at a particular cage, your blood runs cold and you almost go running for a bathroom when you look inside. Eyes widening, you’re face to face with what you guessed was their sick take on a chimera. The poor young man is barely sitting up with gangly bat wings sprouting from his back, horns extending from his forehead along with hooves replacing his feet and a long lion’s tail coming from his tail bone. His face has sunken in, and his body almost appears like he’s merely skin and bones at that point. 

When you manage to tear your eyes away from the chimera, you slip through plastic curtains that separates itself from the rest of the building. The section is filled entirely with examination tables with metal straps at the base and towards the middle. Carts, filled with tools that you’d expect to see in an operation room and test tubes filled with liquids labeled with cream colored painters tape, sat beside the tables. Glancing down, you suck in a breath at the amount of blood splattered on the ground, some are a fresh dark red while others have dried into a faded reddish-brown. 

Of the few populating the section, one prisoner is strapped down and struggling as the man above her injects a needle into her. His gloved thumb depresses on the plunger until all of the contents have been ejected into the young girl’s system. She jolts and her chest rises up and down rapidly as her arm trembles and her veins begin to swell and protrude from her skin, soon followed by angry red welts. Her eyes burn a raging gold mixed with a milky white, black pupils narrowing into pin-like slits. The welts bleed green and scaly, hardening her soft flesh from her shoulder to the tips of her hands turned talons. 

Gulping down, you turn and almost jump out of your skin when a scientist walks through you, almost forgetting that you were currently looking into Jungkook’s memories. 

Following after the male, you look to another table where a boy, looking to be in his teens, is sedated as the scientists above open up the ventral side of his body. Feeling squeamish, you notice the cart full of larger jars instead of vials, all of which are filled with preservative liquid with various organs suspended in each. They make work in transplanting a new heart and other organs into the male as you observe with a hand to your mouth. Passing by the cart, you squint down at one of the containers where a label is messily scrawled with the characters reading “ghoul” and another reading “siren”. 

You thought back to the miserable chimera lying nearly half dead in his cage and gagged at the idea of what monstrosity they could be cooking up here. 

“Junghyun!” you hear before you could explore any further, not that you wanted to, causing you to turn at the sound of Jungkook’s cry. Rushing in the direction of the voice, you come to a halt when you spot the young wolf being held back by henchmen. Tears run down his full cheeks, eyes burning a harsh gold as he struggles against the two men. The two are much stronger than he is, holding him without breaking a sweat as a man cackles and he kicks the convulsing body of Junghyun on the ground, “Wait patiently little wolf! Your turn is next!” 

The way he slurs those words with a leer of his golden eyes has your stomach stirring in the wrong way.

You watch confused as the older brother awakens with a shout, his eyes a mixture of gold and amber. The color of a newborn, you suppose if you remember anything from your classes on the different creatures. That thought leaves your mind as the boy cries out in pain, rolling over onto his hands and knees as tremors rack his body. His eyes are wide with strain as red liquid seeps from the lower seam of his eyes. 

“Junghyun! Junghyun!” Jungkook continues to cry as his brother screams in agony and furiously claws at his own face. This creates deep gashes from his claws, bleeding profusely from both the wounds and his eyes. 

The man from before only continues to howl with boisterous laughter at his suffering, swinging his leg back and into the teen’s ribcage. The force sends him flying sideways until he smashes into the hard surface of a crate. 

You have to tear your eyes away as the boy slowly dies from rejecting the blood the vampire had forced him to ingest. His screams having grown hoarse and exhausted and his body falling limp in finality.

Jungkook grows furious, growling and snapping at them.

“Your turn, little one,” the man grins wildly as the nail of his index finger protrudes into a sharp claw. Slowly, he walks towards the struggling boy as he takes the sharp nail and slides it across the flesh of his forearm. A straight line of blood drips from the deep cut.

Unamused by his struggling, he throws a hook to the side of the younger’s face. Jungkook’s head snaps left from the force, cheek flaring with pain as he coughs out blood. 

“Shut the fuck up and drink up,” The man hums as his hand grips harshly at his jaw to open his mouth forcibly, causing the boy to struggle once more. Settling his arm over the child, he watches with fascination as his blood falls into his mouth and he’s forced to swallow it. Licking his lips with a satisfied smile, he mutters lowly, “Now this will only hurt a little bit,” before all five of his finger nails extend into sharp claws and he thrusts his whole hand forward into Jungkook’s chest.

You gasp with tears springing to your eyes, covering your mouth with both hands to muffle the sound of surprise that jumps out of your mouth.

The struggling has stopped all together with his breathing and the two guards release the boy. His body drops with a heavy thud. Seconds pass before Jungkook repeats Junghyun’s previous movements, screaming and convulsing wildly on the ground as the vampiric blood races through his circulatory system. When his erratic spasming slowly calms down, his skinny body is covered in a thin layer of sweat and his chest is falling up and down in tandem with his harsh inhales and exhales.

The next events are too hard to watch as Jungkook reawakens as a transitioning werewolf-vampire hybrid, mistakenly murdering his parents before killing and drinking from the man who had turned him and deceived him. His transition had completed and he was filled to the brim with fury and sadness. His eyes bled with furious rage of iridescent blue and amber as he killed anything and everything within the warehouse. 

When nothing remained living, the boy left in hopes of finding a body of water to wash up. He wandered for hours away from that damned warehouse, finding himself lost in forest, huge in comparison to him. Nothing to eat or drink, he dragged himself through the forest looking as though he’d bathed in blood, claws and incisors extended, and his eyes glowing their blue and amber hue. 

Blood. He craved blood so desperately. And he wasn’t about to start licking his blood covered hand like a dog. Although he was a born wolf after all, but that was besides the point. He was not about to accept his new found hybrid status, he despised it. Why did it have to be him? Why did his brother have to die? The more he continued to think about the events within the warehouse, his blood boiled and his eyes began to bleed more amber than blue.

Any living creature he could find, be it a rabbit or squirrel, ran for their lives from just feeling his presence. Even for you as a mere spector, the amount of animosity and power unfurling off his being was almost as overwhelming as it was in reality. 

His eyes slid closed as his vision grew blurry. The world tilted and he let his body tip over and fall flat on the ground.

You sat crouched by his side, heart hurting for the tall boy before you heard the slightest noise of leaves crunching underneath the weight of something or someone. Blinking, you bit back a gasp before the world shifts and you’re back in a familiar room. 

When he comes to, eyelids slowly sliding open, he hadn’t expected to be staring up at a roof over his head. Raising a shaky hand, he clutched at his forehead thrumming with a dull ache from hunger and dehydration. Glancing around, he blinked before shooting up into a sitting position.

“Woah there, take it easy,” a voice chuckles from the doorway and you recognize the aura. 

Goosebumps unfurl across the surface of your arms as a younger Min Yoongi steps over to the bed and sets down a tray of rice porridge and a glass of water on the nightstand. His smile is slight but welcoming nonetheless when Jungkook casts him a guarded glare.

.

Tags:  @twilight-loveer @reinyrei@mistytail@mygukandonlyficrecs@xanny91@unpocodesoledadywisky@xxqueenwxtchxx@lildemonangele@gukworld@sunnyoongles @zamirayinyue13@hannahdearr @serendipity-secrets @ilaria-np @jules-park @treetops68 @mischiefmakerliesmith5 @jeonkooksgirl @coffeeismylife28 @nshitae @bookoffracturedescapes @ellsbells72

@tiredjedi

#lustrous #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagines #bts x reader #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts au #werewolf!jungkook au #jeongguk scenarios #jeongguk x reader

[alleiradayne]

There’s Something Strange A Reader/Sam Winchester Series

When Y/N Y/L/N escapes to the upper Midwest for a weekend of inspiration to begin her tenth paranormal thriller novel, she never imagined the source of that inspiration to be her own life. Between the old mansion, two peculiar men posing as antiquers, and the mysterious death of the heiress of Hill Manor one-hundred and fifty years ago, Y/N learns the truth about far more than the paranormal.

Part V - The Haunting

Summary: With a poltergeist on the loose, Sam, Dean, and Y/N work together to investigate. Warnings/Tags: More hunting, more fluff, some mature discussion of sexual preferences Square filled: Author AU Characters/Pairings: Reader/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Word Count: 2,449 A/N: For @spnfluffbingo2019, this entire series fills the Author AU square. Super giant huge thank you to @atc74 who beta’d this giant thing for me.

Watery eyes spilled over as she squeezed them against the pain that throbbed in her skull and dragged Y/N up from the nothingness in which she drifted. One eye cracked open and found pale moonlight glowed in angular lines across her bed where she lay on hear back. She could hardly remember how she had gotten there, or much of anything from the last two days. The hours blurred together the harder she thought, and the stress served little but to exacerbate her aching head.

And then she saw him. That familiar face, no longer bathed in eerie green light, hovered beside her, a nervous grind in his jaw twitching as he stared at his shoes.

When she sat up on her elbows, Sam startled and leaped from the bed. “Hey, you’re awake! Are you okay? How do you feel?”

He knelt beside her, one hand grasping hers and the other cupping her cheek. He pressed her fingers to his lips where he placed kisses on each one until she spoke.

“I’m okay,” she managed. The softness of his lips washed away her worry, and the endless empathy in his eyes soothed her pain. “What happened?”

“You were attacked,” he started, then paused as a look of consternation pinched his face. “How much do you remember from earlier today?”

Attacked? She swallowed a thick gulp, her tongue sticking to her mouth and throat dry. “I… got to the mansion,” she choked. Sam handed her a glass of water on the bedside table, and from it she drew a long swallow. “I had dinner with the guests. You… walked me back to my room.” Y/N hesitated, a familiar sting prickling her cheeks.

He smiled a shy grin as he glanced to the bed. “What else?” he asked as he returned to her, his hand atop her hand and gently stroking her hair. “What else do you remember?”

A flood of memories returned all at once, replaying rapidly. “Spirits. You hunt spirits. You told me. In the library,” Y/N stated.

“Okay, that’s good,” Sam said as he breathed in deep. “Earlier tonight, after we left your room, we found you in the library. A uh… poltergeist had you about dead to rights.”

The tears came then, unbidden and uncontrollable. Fucking hell, a poltergeist.

“Y/N, it’s okay, you’re fine,” Sam soothed.

She wiped the tears from her eyes as her anger subsided. “Did you save me?”

Sam shook his head. “No. We’re not sure what happened,” he explained. “We got to the back of the library just in time to see the poltergeist take off.”

At least she still had some sense of dignity left. The last thing she needed was to be the idiot damsel in her own fucked up haunting. But, dammit, why? Why had she rushed off to the library like some god damn hero ready to take on the world the second she had learned she truly knew half a thing about the paranormal? Her impulsive streak had gotten the better of her again, and once she got a hold of a couple clues, she thought she could solve the puzzle on her own. And with her writer’s block taken care of by that pen…

The pen.

She sat up in a rush and Sam squawked his protests as he grasped her shoulders. “Y/N, it’s okay, I’m here,” he said as he attempted to calm her, but Y/N had a mission. “What’s… what are you doing?”

Her pockets came up empty, but her bag sat on the writing table at the foot of her bed. “Where’s the pen?” she asked as she scrambled from Sam’s hands.

Sam let her go as another scoff of indignation burst from his lips. “What pen?”

“The pen!” she pointed at the writing desk. “The one Dean found earlier,” she continued as she dove into her bag and scraped the bottom. “Where is it?!”

The helpless look on Sam’s face broke her heart. “I… didn’t see it. You had it?”

“Yes!” Y/N shouted as she upended her bag. From its depths the pen fell, along with her hand-torch, and clattered to the floor. “Oh, thank god.”

“What does the pen—”

“This,” she interrupted as she brandished the pen, “has been holding Y/N Hillstead’s spirit for one-hundred fifty years.”

Sam withdrew his purple cloth from his back pocket and took the pen from her. “That explains… so much.”

Y/N slumped back onto the bed. “Yeah, and I let her out.”

“But now we know what happened,” Sam said in a rush of air. He knelt before her, edging his way between her knees. “How did you do it? What opened the trap?”

God, but he was so close. How did he expect her to focus with his ridiculously pretty face inches away from hers? “It—it’s an old fountain pen, right?” She paused as she waited for Sam to put it together but when he raised a curious brow at her, she continued. “It needs ink. It was bone dry when Dean tried it.”

He looked at the pen again, then back to her. “That’s fucking brilliant,” he breathed. “God, I don’t think I’d have thought of that, Y/N, that’s—”

Impulsive streak be damned, Y/N wanted him all to herself. Her lips landed on his, and her hands found his hair, delving deep to grasp at the back of his head as she kissed him. Sam responded without hesitation, his arms wrapping around her and holding her tightly to his chest. Constricted so, she could hardly move, but what a glorious sensation. To be so profoundly consumed by another, in body and mind, she thanked whatever gods existed for such luck. And how lucky she was to find that sort of connection in Sam, brilliant and kind and sweet and hotter than the surface of the sun.

The smooth taste of alcohol on his tongue—a particular hoppy beer—filled her mouth as he teased her lips apart. Not that he had to try very hard. She opened up to him like a summer flower on a bright morning, mouth and legs and arms all wide for him to press into with his enormous shoulders and narrow hips and—

Oh.

Pressed firmly to her core, Sam’s hips rolled, grinding his erection along her sex. Though Y/N moaned, their lips never parted, long kisses and eager tongues devouring one another as Sam laid her on the bed and settled atop her.

Against his lips, she sighed his name, repeated pleas for more of him, his hands, his lips, his everything. And Sam acquiesced with equal fervor, eager as she.

The door to her room exploded as Dean damn near tore it off the hinges and burst through it. “Sam, we’ve got—oh, son of a bitch!”

Sam froze as his head whipped to the door, hair askew and mouth agape. Dean shielded his eyes as he stuttered his apologies and pulled the door halfway closed. When Y/N prodded Sam in the chest, he scrambled off her and sat on the end of the bed. She righted her shirt as Dean peeked through the door and laughed when he spotted Sam.

“Sam,” Y/N whispered as she pointed to her hair then his, “your… it’s…”

He ran his fingers through the long brown locks and brushed them straight, tucked behind his ears. The crimson blush on his cheeks depended to his neck, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him. Her own frustrated arousal ached between her thighs, and Sam's palpable want compounded the problem. Twice, they had found themselves alone, and twice, Dean had interrupted them.

Sam interrupted her thoughts when he stood and approached Dean. “What happened?”

Dean's face contorted as he asked, “You didn't hear that scream?”

Scream? “No,” Y/N stated as Sam regarded her and shook his head. “We didn't hear anything.”

Dean’s expressions cycled through emotions faster than a rollercoaster. “Damn.” He scratched the back of his head, then said, “Well, about fifteen minutes ago there was a scream loud enough to wake the dead. I went to the kitchen to figure out what happened. When you two didn’t show up, I came here.”

She hadn’t heard a thing but Sam’s breath and insistent moans. Christ, was that how bad she had it for him? Y/N shook her head to clear her thoughts and asked, “What happened?”

Dean motioned them into the hallways as he talked over his shoulder. “I think the poltergeist has attacked two people, possibly killed one,” he said. “We need to get these people out of here.”

Easier said than done. But Y/N followed Dean nonetheless, and Sam fell in step behind her. When Dean turned over his shoulder once more, he lowered his voice.

“So,” he started, “you and Sammy, huh?”

“I… uh,” she stuttered as she looked over her shoulder to find Sam's flat glare.

“Please, don't, dude,” he groaned. “Focus on the case.”

“Oh, I am focused on the case. It's you who isn't,” Dean retorted, but then turned his knowing smirk to Y/N. “Although, I can't blame you. I enjoy a naughty librarian every once in a while, too.”

Y/N cocked an eyebrow at him. “First off, I’m an author, and second, Dean, you wouldn’t last five minutes in a bed with me.”

“Yeah, but you don’t know what I can do in five minutes,” he said with a wink.

Y/N had another retort readied, poised on the tip of her tongue when Sam set a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Please, let him get the last word in. I’m mortified enough as it is.”

Down the grand staircase, Y/N slowed to allow some distance between Dean and the two of them. “Does dirty talk bother you, Sam?”

A vehement shake of his head loosened his hair from behind his ears. “Quite the opposite,” he muttered as he glanced to his feet.

Before her eyes made it that far, Y/N saw the stiff ridge of his erection straining against his pants. “Can I promise to take care of you later? How long has it been?”

He urged Y/N to keep up with Dean as he breathed his reply. “Months. I… relieve myself every other day, but it’s not enough. Nothing I’ve got back at the Bunker compares to a real person.”

Bunker? She logged that question away on her growing list in the back of her mind and instead asked, “Person?”

Sam turned a shade of crimson she wasn’t sure existed before then. “My partners aren’t exclusively women,” he stated.

“Are some of them men?”

He nodded.

“Are some of them silicone and shaped like a flashlight?”

He nodded again.

“Are some of them silicone and phallus shaped?”

He nodded a third time as they stopped outside the kitchen.

When she opened her mouth to ask another question, Dean interrupted her. “Alright, I officially know too much,” he paused. “The body is here, behind the island. No sign of a struggle. Groundskeeper found her on the floor after he heard her scream.”

“You get a read on him?” Sam asked as he strode past them both.

“Nope,” Dean stated as he followed. Y/N brought up the rear as she listened. “He looked like he went ten rounds with Mohammed Ali.” He paused, then added, “If Mohammad Ali had claws.”

In the kitchen, Sam stood at the feet of the body, then knelt as he shuffled to her shoulders. “There’s something here. In her ears.”

“Ectoplasm?”

If the night had not been weird enough by then, the look Sam and Dean both shot Y/N had officially shoved it violently into something out of the Twilight Zone. She might as well have sprouted a second head and spoken to it. “What?”

Sam grabbed a cloth from the counter and wiped the cook's ear. He stepped over the body and handed the rag to Dean. “Ectoplasm.”

“How do you know all this stuff?” Sam asked.

She grabbed the rag from Dean and examined it. “I thought it would be green. Not black.”

“Okay, look, this isn’t that kind of poltergeist,” Dean started, “and this isn’t the Gho—”

A bone chilling scream rent the air and interrupted Dean. Y/N dropped the rag and bolted for the door, Sam and Dean hot on her heels. In the entry, the scream repeated, and she took the stairs two at a time as she headed for the western wing of the mansion.

In the furthest hallway, lights flickered and an icy chill slammed deep into her chest, sucking the air from her lungs. But she pressed on, charging headlong to the furthest room at the darkest end of the hallway to come upon the traveling woman and the distorted ghost of Y/N Hillstead, hideously transformed into a terrifying poltergeist. She had both of her hands wrapped around the poor woman’s throat and held three feet in the air, her legs kicking furiously as she struggled.

Sam and Dean skidded to a halt in front of her, arms spread to protect. But Y/N had a plan and she wasn’t about to abandon it to chivalry. She shoved past them as she brandished the pen and shouted, “Hey, Hillstead!”

Sam wrapped an arm around her waist and tried to pull her back, but he was too late. The poltergeist turned as she dropped the woman and rushed Y/N, but she had come prepared. The small hand-torch ignited with a sharp click, hissing bright blue flame to an orange point a scant inch shy of the pen. “I'll fucking do it! Leave! Last chance, asshole!”

The same scream they had heard earlier sounded again, emanating from Y/N Hillstead's unhinged mouth. In a swirl of dust and dirt, she vanished into thin air, taking with her the unearthly chill. The lamps flared to life as Sam rushed into the room and attended to the woman who stirred on the floor, thankfully alive.

“Do I want to even ask how you knew that would work?” Dean gasped.

Shit. Y/N shrugged for time as she came up with something. “I ah… I had a hunch.”

“Hunches are good,” Dean agreed as he clasped her shoulder and turned her to face him with flush cheeks. “But for the love of…” he paused, consternation contorting his face. “For the love of Cas, lie to Sam when he asks you the same question. Make something up, I don't care what, but do not tell him you ran in with a half-cocked plan. I do that enough for three people…”

He parted from her and headed back down the hallway as she called after him. “Where are you going?”

“To find a proton pack and a ghost trap!”

If you want to be tagged for this series specifically, send me an ask or a DM! If you want in on any of my tags (Sam/Jared, Dean/Jensen), you can ask for that, too!

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[boat-full-of-lotus-pods]

MDZS Chapter 102. “A Hatred for Life” Part 5

I’m sorry, I broke my promise

Although he had been stabbed through the chest, the wound wasn’t enough for Jiang Cheng to lose his life. It only meant that he could no longer move around as he pleased, and would be in no position to channel his spiritual energy anytime soon. As someone who hated being supported, Jiang Cheng turned to Jin Ling, who was supporting him, and spat, “Get lost.”

Jin Ling knew that his uncle was still mad at him for running away. Knowing that he was in the wrong, Jin Ling didn’t dare to talk back. From a distance, the barks of his dark-furred spiritual dog could be heard. Suddenly, the barks turned into whines, and Jin Ling was startled. Remembering Jin GuangYao’s earlier words, he shouted, “Run away, Fairy! Quickly! They’re going to kill you!”

Shortly after, Su She ran back into the temple, drenched in rain and fuming with fury. Jin GuangYao asked, “You didn’t kill it?”

Su She replied with a savage expression, “I couldn’t. This dog has not a sliver of true courage. When it has allies, it becomes more ferocious than anyone else, but the moment it realizes it can’t win, it runs away faster than anyone else!”

Jin GuangYao shook his head and said, “I’m worried that it will lead more people here. We need to finish our business here fast.”

Su She snarled, “These imbeciles! I’ll go make them work faster.”

Relieved, Jin Ling exhaled a breath of air. Seeing that Jiang Cheng was sitting on the ground, face ashen, Jin Ling hesitated a moment before turning to Lan WangJi. “HanGuang-Jun, are there any more cushions?”

Lan WangJi was the one who had collected the four round cushions that everyone was sitting on, but they were all that the temple had. After a moment of silence, Lan WangJi stood up and pushed over his own cushion. Jin Ling hurriedly said, “Thank you! But no, I should just give my own……”

Lan WangJi replied, “No need.”

He then proceeded to sit next to Wei WuXian. Sitting properly, the two of them shared the same cushion quite naturally without feeling cramped. Seeing that a cushion had already been spared, Jin Ling scratched his head and then helped Jiang Cheng to sit down on it. Pressing the acupuncture points over his chest to stop the bleeding, Jiang Cheng sat down and threw a glance towards Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi. Just a moment later, he quickly dropped his gaze again, expression gloomy. It was hard to tell what he was thinking.

Just then, an ecstatic voice shouted from the back of the temple, “Sect Leader! We’ve reached it! We can see a corner now!”  

Jin GuangYao’s expression relaxed at once. Marching with quick strides to the back of the temple, he said, “Hurry faster! Be very careful. We don’t have much time left.”  

Outside, seven or eight pale streaks of lightning flashed across the lower horizon. Roars of thunder soon followed. Within the temple, Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi sat on one side, and Jiang Cheng sat at another. Dragging his own cushion over, Jin Ling joined his uncle. Other than the sound of the pouring rain, the temple was drenched in an awkward, dead silence. No one was saying a word.

But for some reason, Jin Ling seemed to really want the two sides to communicate. Looking between the two groups of people back and forth, he suddenly said, “Uncle, thank Heavens you stopped that qin string earlier. That could have been bad.”

Face darkening, Jiang Cheng spat, “Shut your mouth!”

If he hadn’t been so emotional as to give Jin GuangYao the opportunity for a sneak attack on this side of the room, Jiang Cheng wouldn’t have fallen into the enemy’s hands in the first place. Furthermore, Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi could have probably easily avoided the incoming qin string on their own. Although Lan WangJi was without cultivation at the moment and Wei WuXian hadn’t had much to begin with, they were still adept fighters. Even if they couldn’t attack, they could’ve just dodged. So when Jin Ling had clumsily spoken up for his uncle, with very obvious and deliberate intent, it only made the situation even more awkward than it already was.

After receiving the scolding, Jin Ling sheepishly shut his mouth. Jiang Cheng sealed his lips and spoke not another word. Wei WuXian also had nothing to say.

Had this been in his previous life, Wei WuXian would have at least poked some fun at Jiang Cheng for being too easily riled up by a few words to the point of someone taking advantage of him. But after everything that Jin GuangYao had said, there was no room left for doubt.

Jiang Cheng already knew the truth.

Just then, Lan WangJi once again stroked his back twice. Wei WuXian looked up. Seeing that there was not a hint of astonishment in Lan WangJi, whose gaze could almost be described as gentle, Wei WuXian’s heart gave a jolt. He couldn’t help but ask in a quiet voice, “……You knew?”

Slowly, Lan WangJi nodded.

Wei WuXian exhaled weakly and muttered, “……Wen Ning.”

Suibian was supposed to be with Wen Ning. Now it had fallen into Jiang Cheng’s hands, yet Wen Ning hadn’t mentioned a single word about it since they had left the Lotus Pier.

Wei WuXian asked, “When did he tell you?”

Lan WangJi answered, “When you were unconscious.”

Wei WuXian asked, “Is this how we left the Lotus Pier?!”

If it wasn’t because Wen Ning still hadn’t come back to find them, Wei WuXian would already be glowering at him.

Lan WangJi said, “He feels very bad about it.”

Wei WuXian’s voice carried a hint of frustration as he said, “……I’ve told him so many times to never speak of it!”

Abruptly, Jiang Cheng spoke up. “To never what?”

Startled, Wei WuXian turned to look at him together with Lan WangJi. Clutching his wound with one hand, Jiang Cheng said in a chilling voice, “Wei WuXian. So selfless and magnanimous. Doing countless good things for others without letting them know. Shouldering all the responsibility, the humility, yourself. How touching. Should I kneel down and cry now to thank you?”

Hearing that his tone had not an ounce of courtesy but was instead laced with mockery, Lan WangJi’s expression turned cold. Noticing that his expression had turned unkind, Jin Ling immediately moved himself in front of Jiang Cheng. Terrified that Lan WangJi would strike his uncle dead, Jin Ling cried, “Uncle!”

Wei WuXian’s expression had also turned unpleasant.

Although he had never expected anything to be resolved between them the moment Jiang Cheng learned the truth, he also had not expected Jiang Cheng to say something this vile. He said, after a beat of silence, “I didn’t ask you to thank me.”

“Ha!” Jiang Cheng choked out a laugh then continued, “Of course. To deliver kindness without asking for anything in return, you’re on a whole other level. Unlike me, of course. No wonder father always used to say that you are the one who truly understands the Jiang Sect’s motto and carries the Jiang Sect’s true spirit.”

Wei WuXian couldn’t keep listening anymore. He interrupted, “Enough.”

Jiang Cheng continued, voice harsh, “Enough what? You think it’s enough just because you’ve said so? You know everything! You’re better than me in every way! Exceptionally gifted, a cultivation prodigy! With a pure heart and a luminous mind! You all know everything! I’m inferior—then what the hell am I?!?!”

Abruptly, he reached out as if intending to grip the lapels of Wei WuXian’s robes. Securing an arm around Wei WuXian, Lan WangJi pulled him behind himself. His other hand heavily flung Jiang Cheng’s hand aside as fury leaked from his eyes. Though the action was not spiritually charged, it still carried tremendous strength, knocking Jiang Cheng with such force that the wound over his chest reopened and blood gushed out again instantly. Jin Ling screamed, “Uncle, your wound! HanGuang-Jun, show some mercy[1]!”

Lan WangJi then replied coldly, “Jiang WanYin, show some decency[2]!”

Meanwhile, Lan XiChen shed his outer robe, laid it over the cold, shivering Nie HuaiSang and said, “Sect Leader Jiang. Please remain calm. The more you shout, the worse your condition will be.”

With a shove, Jiang Cheng pushed aside the panicking Jin Ling who was supporting his side. Though he was already losing blood, blood still rushed to his head in his anger, making his face cycle through shades of white and red. He spat, “What gives you the right? Wei WuXian, what gives you the fucking right?”

From behind Lan WangJI, Wei WuXian said stiffly, “What right?”

Jiang Cheng replied, “How much has my family given for you? I’m his son. I’m the heir of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect. But all those years, I was never enough next to you. Their love, their dedication, even their life! The lives of my father, mother, older sister, and even Jin ZiXuan! Because of you, all that’s left now is an orphaned Jin Ling!”

With a terrible shudder, Jin Ling’s shoulders slumped. His expression waned as well. Wei WuXian’s lips moved but, ultimately, he couldn’t say a word. Lan WangJi turned to him and held his hand. Jiang Cheng, however, was still not finished. He scathed without holding back, “Wei WuXian, who’s the one who went back on his words? Who’s the one who betrayed our Jiang Sect? Who’s the one that told me that when I became the sect leader, you’d be my subordinate, you’d support me forever, that if the Gusu Lan Sect has Two Jades then the Yunmeng Jiang Sect would have Two Prides, that you wouldn’t ever betray the Jiang Sect?! You tell me—who said those words?! I’m asking you, who said those words?! Did you fucking swallow them all?!

“And then look what happened? You went to shelter some outsider, haha! From the Wen Sect, of all people. How many years did you eat their food and drink their water?! You betrayed us in an instant without any hesitation! What do you think my family is to you?! Endless good deeds, you’ve done them all, whilst every fuck-up was always because you had no choice! You ‘had no choice’! What difficulties can’t you explain?! What hardship must you hide?! Hardship?! You don’t tell me anything, you treat me like a moron!!!

“How much do you owe my family? Shouldn’t I hate you?! Couldn’t I hate you?! What gives you the right to suddenly make me feel like I should be the one that’s sorry?! What gives you the right to make me feel like some fucking clown after all these years?! What the hell am I?! Do I only deserve to be blinded by your glory, by your light?! Shouldn’t I hate you?!”

Lan WangJi abruptly stood up. Frightened, Jin Ling threw himself in front of Jiang Cheng. “HanGuang-Jun! My uncle is injured……”

Jiang Cheng batted Jin Ling so hard that he fell to the ground. “Let him come! Am I afraid of the Second Lan?!”

But after getting slapped to the ground, Jin Ling suddenly froze.

Not only him—Wei WuXian, Lan WangJi, Lan XiChen—they all stopped moving.

Jiang Cheng was crying.

As tears trailed down his face, he muttered through gritted teeth, “…… What gives you the right…… What gives you the right to not tell me!”

Jiang Cheng’s fist tightened as if wanting to hit someone; as if wanting to hit himself. Ultimately, it hit the ground.

He should have been able to hate Wei WuXian without hesitation or doubt. However, right here and now, the golden core cultivating within him, churning with spiritual energy, made the strength of his hatred helplessly dwindle.

Wei WuXian didn’t know how to answer.

Since the very beginning, it was precisely because he didn’t want to see Jiang Cheng like this that had made him decide to never tell him.

What he had promised Jiang FengMian and Madam Yu, he had always kept it in his heart: ‘Take care of Jiang Cheng. Protect him.’ Jiang Cheng was someone who would push himself to the extremes just to prove himself. He’d always cared so much about being better. If he were to know the truth, he would suffer for the rest of his life. Never again would he be able to look Wei WuXian in the eyes again. He would never find peace or release. He would always be painfully reminded of the fact that he would not be what he was today without relying on the sacrifice of another; that none of his success and accomplishments were ever truly his; that by winning, he had lost; and that he had long lost the right to ever prove himself better.

Later, because Jin ZiXuan and Jiang YanLi had died because of him, Wei WuXian had become too ashamed to ever bring it up again. If he were to tell Jiang Cheng the truth after that, it would only sound like an excuse, a way for him to alleviate himself of the responsibilities by bringing up an act of kindness in the worst time, as if saying, ‘Look, you can’t hate me, I’ve also made sacrifices for the Jiang Sect.’

Jiang Cheng cried soundlessly. His face, however, was already streaked in ceaseless tears.

Showing such an unsightly crying face in front of others was something that Jiang Cheng wouldn’t ever have done in the past. From here on, however, he would always be reminded of this feeling for as long as the golden core was still within him, for as long as it still churned with spiritual energy, every moment, every second of everyday.

Jiang Cheng choked between sobs, “……You said that when I became the Sect Leader, you’d be my subordinate, you’d support me forever and never betray the Yunmeng Jiang Sect…….You said those words yourself.”

“……”

A beat of silence later, Wei WuXian said, “I’m sorry. I broke my promise.”

Shaking his head, Jiang Cheng buried his face deep within his palm. A moment later, he suddenly laughed with a “pfft.”

He mocked in a muffled voice, “If I still let you say sorry to me now, then how delicate of a person would I be?”

-

Footnotes:

[1]: Show some mercy: the original phrase was 手下留情, “show some mercy, be lenient with your actions/hands.”

[2]: Show some decency: the original phrase was 口下留德, “show some decency/respect with your words/speech.”

#魔道祖师 #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #novel translation #my translation

[blandmemoirs]

Anger

Rage, Fury, Fire, Pain, Momentum, Energy, unyielding emotion. When I am angry my mind is clear of all the torment of anxiety or doubt. I become objective driven, I become focused, I become energized. I am filled with a burning passion to move, and to never stop moving.

In days of old, my anger would manifest through methods of lashing out. Of attacking, of punching back, of inflicting pain on that which upset me. This is unproductive. To hurt another as a result of your frustration is unjustified. It doesnt make a situation better. It makes it worse. It builds further resentment between yourself and the person you are angry at. It prevents solutions. It causes more hurt. I learned this a long time ago and understand it today. I cannot swear to pacifism, but I will not resort to violence unless my safety or the safety of those I love is directly threatened.

I made a choice a few years ago to use my anger productively. If I am to become angry, I cannot lash out. I cannot hurt other people. I have to use it to be productive. Anger, like any emotion, is a flare of passion in the body and mind. It is energy, and it can be redirected in ways that dont further a cycle of violence. That is what I live to prove.

I am an angry person. I get angry, often. Its not a new development in my life. It has followed me since my childhood. Its sources are numerous. I cant attribute it to any one cause or happening. I have always been angry.

I know this because in kindergarten, I would pick fights with other children, often. Just random, chaotic violence. I enjoyed it. I liked hurting other people. Then I would go home to more violence. This time from my parents into me as discipline for my actions. My parents would belt me for more than just violence, it could come from me simply acting out. Sometimes I was spared the physical harm by recieving emotional harm from furious yelling. My parents taught me anger and violence, and their resorting to violence taught me to resort to violence. Might made right. I shouldnt put all of my problems on my parents, but they wear a substantial amount of blame for the way I learned to cope and act.

My father is an angry man. He grew up in harsh conditions with a harsh family that put him through worse than I've ever lived through. He made sure to tell me that anytime I voiced the tyranny in his actions. He resents his older brother, doesnt like his father, and has spent much of his life failing. Deep in debt from his own mistakes, bearing the blame for a fractured household and broken marriage, he is full of anger. He takes out his anger on those weaker than him. From the dogs he can kick when they bark too loud, to the children he can endlessly insult and shout at for minor transgressions. All made worse by alcoholism to cope. My father is not a bad man, but an incredibly flawed and broken one. He does make efforts to redeem and be better, but he has not yet atoned for his actions, and the marks he has left on his children will linger whether he accepts it or not.

My mother is an angry woman. Raised in a split household between parents who live irresponsibly and resent each other. She was a rebellious youth who took her own childhood away when I was conceived. A child raising a child. A lack of freedom as her life is indebted to my survival and later, two more. Dead end job to dead end job. A broken marriage and a dysfunctional family she is forced to raise with no individual progress to be attained. She resents her circumstances. She desires higher living and a fate she can control. She takes out her anger on those weaker than her. From the dogs she can hit to the children she can scream at for "negativity". All made worse by alcohol and weed. My mother is not a bad woman, she is just an incredibly flawed and broken one. A girl who became a mother too quickly. An independent soul tethered to a path of dependence. She makes efforts to be better, but often furthers a rift she created. Her anger will be remembered in the hearts of her children.

I do not know the true extent of my parents lives, I only know what I have seen, been revealed, and assumed. I know one thing for certain, they are examples of how not to grow up. The anger they live with is an anger I live with. To tame their beasts they drink and lash out, I must be better.

Which is why I cling so desperately to the example set for myself by the Incredible Hulk, my favorite character. A genius with deep emotional trauma turned into a monster fueled by rage. Dr Robert Bruce Banner must learn to live with the monster that dwells inside him. The Hulk, limitless rage personified, is a monster that does not want to hurt people, but just wants to be left alone among his friends. He is violent, but only because he recieves violence. The monster is capable of reason, of morality, of seeing through the surge of rage to know what is right and what is wrong. As such, the Hulk chooses to be a hero, to save and protect the innocent and to smash those who do evil. Bruce Banner must live with his anger, to know when it is right to let the beast out and to understand when smashing is the wrong option.

Banner has spent most of his life trying to rid himself of the Hulk, but the Hulk is not something Banner can live without. The Hulk is a part of Bruce, is a piece of his damaged psyche which will always exist. The gamma radiation only externalized these features.

Hulk also resents Banner, and wishes he could exist without him. Hulk doesn't like Banner's weak manner and conniving mind. Hulk doesn't like being locked up in a cage in the back of Banners mind. Hulk wants to be free and Hulk wants to be left alone.

These two characters are inseparable, and two sides of the same coin. Hulk is a manifestation of Banners trauma and repressed anger. Hulk is a destructive force of passion that can be directed to do good. These entities must coexist, for they need each other.

What does this have to do with me? In a less hyperbolic manner, my rage is a part of me. It does not go away. It never ends. It is a piece of my heart and mind. It is a force that makes me want to destroy all that causes harm to those I love. Anger does not cease within the chaotic storm that is my heart, it persists and waits for its time to possess me. When I am angry my body tenses, my eyes focus, my heart beats at rapid pace, my stomach churns, my body shakes. At its worst I lose sight and see nothing but flashes of red as I convulse into shivers of rage. When control of my body is returned the next moment, my mind is clear and I am energized in a way almost as potently as when I am in love. I can do almost anything. It is raw adrenaline. I move faster, harder, and with more force and precision than when I am in a normal state. I make objectives and carry them through. I become a machine fueled by limitless rage. It can almost be addicting. Sometimes I have so much force locked inside I feel an urge to scream. I often repress it for the sake of keeping attention away from myself. Anger makes me more effective in my work. Be it my actual job, my writing, or editing. I am so focused, creative forces flow, all through the red lense of rage. Sometimes I run, sometimes I drive, sometimes I channel this energy into speaking. An endless monologue or a consoling speech to a friend in need. For that is the true root to my rage. A friend in pain. When a friend is hurt, I flare up. The closer and more important my friend, the angrier I get. The angrier I get the more energy I have and the more I cant stop moving. My foot tapping, my leg bouncing, I pace. Anger does not debilitate me, it gives me more ability than I know what to do with.

It is not just that a friend is in pain, it is that I cant do anything to stop it. I can't do anything to change their cirumstance. I cannot save them from their suffering because the forces that hurt them are out of my control, out of my influence. I can only console, and console I do, even as rage paves the way of my actions.

When my anger releases its possession of me, I am left to deep introspection and concern. Did I do enough? Did I help? Did I do anything? Why was I angry? I feel rejuvenated, almost born anew. The passion has retreated to my internal self, and I am left feeling cool and calmer. Sometimes, in truly helpess circumstances, I feel empty. I was not enough. I didn't do enough. Worst, when my anger was used unproductively, I feel guilty. Knowing I was wrong and unjust. It is a betrayal to myself to use anger to harm others.

Today I was made angry at the hurt of one of the most important people in my life whom I care deeply for. Their circumstances are far beyond my powers to control, and they themself live far from me. The only thing I can do is send my love and support in the form of text or voice. It never feels like enough. My anger possesses me, and the temptation to strike out at the world that causes such endless pain for my loved ones exists. A random act of violence to atone for the wrongs done to another. That is not right. There is no justice in that. There is no good to come from it. So instead I made my objective to work harder, to make more money in my shift and to ensure my immediate environment was taken care of. I wished every coworker safe travels and good nights, I greeted and enthusiastically interacted with customers and pedestrians who gave me the time. Spreading good energy and doing good for others while powered up with this anger made for a more productive day. When the anger finally relinquished, I began typing. To explain, and to document for myself. I can do good with the frustration I feel. I can be a good man.

I understand this all very intimately now. A younger, less introspective Robbie did not. I got angry, had so much energy and power in my palms I only thought to make a fist. I would then use those fists for causes of pain and revenge, sometimes on undeserving parties. It built a guilt deep inside me that I will never forgive myself for. I can only be a better person now. Instead of making a fist I pick up a pen, or more truthfully I grab a keyboard. Words, endless words, inspired by anger and made real through my choices to funnel that rage.

I am inseparable from my anger. My anger is a part of me. I have to own it, and I have to admit to it. I cant live in fear of myself for what can happen when I lose control, as rare as such an occurence is. I have to instead use it to be productive, and clean up what messes I make with it. And I will make messes. I will hurt people. It is inevitable for an emotion as potent as anger. Sometimes the lense of rage prevents us from seeing reality as fairly as we might. Sometimes a fist is formed.

It is my responsibility and my burden to bear. I cannot blame others for my own nature. I can not allow myself to resent others for who I am. When I am made angry, instead I must find a way to resolve my conflicts and make good.

The Hulk has been saving the world for decades through his anger, and I can do the same. Its not easy. Living with yourself and accepting yourself is hard for some people who look deep into themselves enough. I used to cage this monster, to repress it. It would always free itself and come to the surface. Pent up aggression and bitterness blinds anger and creates pain. Instead, I will live with this intensity I call my anger, and I will continue to live to make it productive, for the benefit of myself and my friends.

I should not hate myself because I am angry. My anger is rooted in the love I have. There is nothing wrong with being angry unless I choose to hurt others with it. That is a choice I will not make unless the other is someone of truly abominable character.

Robbie Bland is an angry person, but he is not a bad person because of it. Make your anger productive. 'Nuff said. Thanks for reading.

[gaycrystalfemme]

Power Couple

Chapter 4: Warm

"Blueeeeeee!!"

"Yellow!? What's the problem, honey?!" Blue ran as fast from the master balcony to the master bathroom where Yellow's scream had originated.

"It's not.. IT'S NOT WORKING!"

"Darling, perhaps we should try another ti-"

"How many times do we need to do this?!"

Clack!

She threw the forsaken piece of plastic, a pregnancy test strip, on the bathroom floor. With her hands on her face, Yellow was sobbing after bursting with anger. Anger at herself, and frustration. Multiple attempts had already been made. So many months. So many pregnancy kits that read negative. The baby they've been hoping for, wasn't forming.

Disheartened on the floor, Yellow was crying harder. Blue hugged her tight.

"There, there, darling. Let's just try again, okay?"

"But, Blue. I'm.. I don't want to try. I want to get it right!"

"I know, Yellow. That's one of the things I love about you. But we just have to do it again."

"Blue, what about.. what if you were to carry the baby instead?"

"But, darling. The preconditions of White.. Plus, I don't suppose carrying my own DNA would be a good idea! That's just-"

"No, of course not! I'll make her a proposal. Rearrangements. We'll have to make her reconsider."

"Yellow.."

"Blue, I.. I can't do this. It has to be you."

"O-okay. If that's what it takes."

Yellow stopped crying as the new plan, contrary to White's, was coming to shape. Among the few things Yellow wanted to change were: #1 Blue to carry the baby, and #2 For one of Yellow's cousins be the sperm donor instead of, initially, Blue's cousin.

It had been ten months since they gained White's blessing for the baby situation. Everything in their plans and White's preconditions had been met except for the fact that Yellow couldn't successfully conceive.

They had consulted a handful of the best OB-GYNEs throughout the months. They came in and out of doctors' offices. They picked out the best candidate from Blue's cousins. They had perfectly timed Yellow's ovulation cycles. In the midst of their trials, however, they had discovered that Yellow was possibly, unfortunately, infertile. A few medical licenses almost revoked over this finding. But now, months after, still nothing.

"Blue. I'm going to set up a meeting with White. Would you accompany me?"

"Yes, honey, of course."

It didn't take as long to set a schedule with her mother this time. Only a week and a half, unlike the prior one which took three weeks. Perhaps White had been aching for updates with their project.

"Hello my darlings! Yellow, Blue. You almost gave me a scare! The last time I heard from you was months ago. So how is the baby? Is the baby on it's way? Is he giving you a hard time, Yellow? Oh, I remember when I was carrying you, dear. Oh, you certainly gave me a hard time!" White broke into a giggle.

"Mother, I.. I want you to reconsider."

"Why, my darling? I suppose our arrangements were justifiable, yes?"

"Yes, but I'm experiencing.. a difficulty."

Yellow laid out, in full detail, her failure to conceive for the past months. Frustration and defeat was evident in her voice. Yellow and Blue very rarely, if at all, display affection in front of White. But Blue could not endure how pained Yellow was as she narrated to White her uterine mishaps, so she instinctively grabbed Yellow's hand.

Yellow squeezed Blue's hand as she pleaded her proposed rearrangements to White. "Please, could you reconsider?"

~ ~ ~

It was a typical day at Yellow's office when a phone call had changed.. everything.

"PEARL! CANCEL EVERYTHING! TELL EMERALD TO HANDLE THE NEGOTIATION LATER! I'M GOING TO BLUE!"

"Yes, Madame Yellow! Do you want me to-"

"Stay here! Make sure everything's in place! Watch over everything while I'm gone call me for anything I'll call if I need anything!" Without hanging up the phone on her ear, Yellow caused a slight commotion and dashed out of her office. She could not think properly at this point. All she wanted to do was to get to Blue. Her assistant confused with all the commands and havoc she left, "Yes, Mrs. Diamond."

Blue had been working from home for the past two months. Her due date is expected in a week. But, she had just experienced labor. Blue had lost her calm composure for once and had been screaming atop her lungs in the car. The pain was excruciating. Her personal assistant doing her best to focus on the road. A few more stop lights and they'll be arriving at the hospital.

"Pearl-two! Tell me she's fine! Where are you now?!" Yellow revved her gold vehicle.

"She is.. in pain, madame," Blue's Pearl had been on the phone with Yellow since she drove Blue to the hospital.

"I CAN HEAR HER PAIN FROM HERE, TWO! HURRY UP AND DRIVE FASTER!! DON'T MAKE ME ARRIVE THERE FIRST!" Yellow can hear Blue screaming from the other line.

It took about twenty minutes before Blue and her personal maid had arrived at the emergency room. Blue could not recall a more arduous time in her life than that twenty minute drive. She felt a bit calmer though, at least she was already at the hospital. They would know how to handle her and the pain in her belly. Yellow arrived an hour and a half after Blue. Blue's Pearl was at the sofa just outside the room, waiting. A nurse came out and saw Yellow.

"Mrs... Diamond, good timing! We're about to prep your wife for surgery."

Pacing by the waiting area of the operating room, Yellow's strong worried steps echoed the hallway. Blue's Pearl sitting by the row of waiting sofas, her hands clasped together as if she was praying. It took around forty-five minutes of just that. The two didn't even talk. A doctor came out of the O.R. and broke the worry in the air.

"Mrs. Yellow," his smile was wide with pride, "she's a girl."

~ ~ ~

"Honey, can you please," Blue paused to yawn, "watch over baby Pink for a while. I'll just take a," Blue let loose a more exhausted yawn, "nap."

Blue went on to the nearest comfiest thing: the sofa. They gathered at the main living space, Blue, Yellow, and their new baby, Pink. Blue had been barely sleeping since giving birth to Pink. She was still under maternity leave, especially since she had undergone the C-section. She rarely ever left Pink to their maids. They both wanted to be hands on parents despite their status and lifestyle. It was one of their greatest achievements, maybe even more than their successful businesses: to raise a child, to have a family of their own.

"Ma wa wa ma," Pink mumbled to Yellow a language no one could understand while Yellow held her in her arms.

"Pink, what do you want?"

"Wa wa ba wa," the toddler kept on mumbling as if striking a conversation to the mighty Yellow.

"I wouldn't understand you like that. You better learn to talk soon so your mother and I can converse with you," Yellow spoke the softest she can. It seemed like an order even if she was talking to the baby, but she was merely excited for Pink to grow up. She already had future plans for Pink.

"Ma wa wa wa m-," before the toddler could finish her syllables, she had drifted asleep just like her other mother, Blue.

Yellow looked at the sleeping Pink in her arms and the exhausted Blue sleeping at the sofa. She broke into a smile as she appreciated the view. Contentment and warmth filled her heart. Everything had dawned into her, her purpose for living.

My two favorite people in the world.

#bellow #bellow diamond #yellow diamond #blue diamond #fanfic #su #steven universe #gcffics #powercouplefanfic #powercouplefanfic chap4

[starboyholland]

Rough Night | Baby Driver One Shot

Requested: Yes! Rating: PG-13 for physical violence and mild cursing, death mentions, mentions of blood Summary: Baby is your best friend and because of this you know he has and will do anything to help you out. When Baby arrives just too late to save you, you are left to wonder if he will come to your aid again. You and Baby had been peacefully watching a movie, well you had been trying to, anyway. Baby's personal phone had kept buzzing every few seconds, and every time, he'd answer the message within a few seconds and the cycle repeated itself, your legs resting over his lap with blankets and snacks tucked all around the two of you. You were trying your best to ignore the constant sound of Baby's phone- the beeping, the typing, the locking and unlocking. You focused instead on the way his face brightened at every message he received, clearly from the same sender. "So, who's got you all excited?" You questioned, turning down the movie's volume. "Oh, sorry, this is too loud isn't it," Baby said, turning the sound down on his phone. You tried your best to act as though you hadn't been thinking that the entire time- you loved Baby but sometimes he could be a bit oblivious. You knew that fact all too well. He had, after all, been oblivious to your massive crush on him for months now. "You're fine, who're you talking to?" Baby smiled at you, responding to a text with his fingers moving so quickly across the keyboard they almost seemed to blur in the darkness of your living room that was only illuminated by the light of the street lamps outside your window and the TV, still playing quietly as background noise. "A girl, met her at the diner the other day, she's a waitress, she's hot as hell," he explained with a chuckle. You had figured that his answer would be somewhere along these lines so you didn't know why you tortured yourself with asking every time. "Oh, nice, this girl have a name?" He told you and you nodded along as he explained that she had good taste in music, "almost as good as us," and you tried not to show your dismay when he said he really liked her. Baby had a thing for flings with girls. His relationships never lasted for long for some reason of another, he never wanted to explain what happened to end his short lived loves. You were always there to cheer him back up and you almost hoped at this point that one day he would notice how much it hurt you to see him with all these beautiful girls. "That's great, Baby, do you think this one will work out?" You questioned. Baby shrugged "so far, so good, right?" You nodded politely, trying not to show you were in pain. "Hey, YN, what's wrong, you feeling okay? You're not looking too good," Baby said, bringing his hand to your face to check your temperature. "I'm fine, Baby, just-" you stopped yourself before you could say what had popped into your head. Baby retracted his hand from your face and you tried to pretend you were more than fine. Baby had known you too long to fall for that, though, and looked into your eyes deeply, finally putting his phone face down into the pile of blankets he was swaddled in. "Really, YN, what's wrong?" "Just tired, that's all," "YN. Stop fucking with me, okay? I know what your tires looks like and it's a lot different from your upset look, okay? You look like you did when you couldn't stop thinking about that sad dog movie-" You cut him off, not able to hear any more of his well meant words. "I'm just tired of watching you with all these girls and then I have to help you get yourself back on your feet after it doesn't work and-" You wished you could suck the words back into your mouth. Baby's face flashed confusion before hardening into irritation. "You could've told me not to tell you about my attempts at finding somebody to be with," he scoffed, picking his phone, anger and hurt clear on his face. "Baby, stop, that's not what I meant, you know I didn't mean that the way it sounded-" "It sounded pretty damn clear to me, YN, I'll go now, would hate to bother you any more tonight," he snapped, throwing the blankets off his body and propelling himself to your door with his phone in hand, pulling on his shoes quickly. You'd followed in his footsteps, nearing him as he continued to leave. All you could do was stand there, watching him angrily prepare to leave you- probably to go stay with that girl he had been texting all night. "No, Baby, I'm sorry, just- just wait, okay?" "Bye, YN, talk to you later I guess," Your door was closed without him even looking back and you stormed back to your couch that was still warm from the heat of your body. You threw a pillow across the room in frustration, thankfully it didn't hit anything, all you could think about was that your first attempt to express your feelings had gone so poorly. You texted Baby to come over whenever and that you understood why he was mad and that you were sorry, laying down on your couch, putting your phone on the floor to focus back on your movie. There was a knock at the door almost an hour later and you flung your blankets off, figuring Baby had seen your text and wanted to talk. Your heart skipped a beat as you walked quickly to the door, opening it without checking the peep hole. You flung the door open to see strangers at your door. You began to ask their intent when suddenly, they stepped into our home uninvited. You began to try and run for cover or your phone or a weapon but you didn't even have time to scream before a tag was shoved over your face. These men were definitely not part of Baby's team and you barely had time to process what was going on before your eyes shut and you felt your legs giving out beneath you. You were jolted awake by the cool evening air of the outdoors as the strange men carried you to a passenger van. Even in your groggy state you could see Baby's red car. You began to frantically fight to escape, you could see Baby sitting in his car, bobbing his head slowly to music, no phone light to be seen. His head shot up where he heard your yelps muffled by a mans hand who was carrying you with his arms so tight you couldn't escape his grip. Baby's face contorted into confusion, and then shock, he bolted from his car, leaving the door open behind him, a sad slow song pouring out from his car speakers. "Hey- hey, put her down, what are you doing?" Baby shouted, then men stopped in their tracks and turned to face your best friend, who was walking quickly to help you. As soon as he got almost close enough to touch, a man lifted his arm, pressing a gun to your friend's chest. "Get back into your car, or we will murder her and you here," both of your eyes widened and you shook your head, the hand on your mouth had loosened enough for you to plead out loud. "Baby, just go, just go, I'll be okay," Tears were rolling down your cheeks, you were still a bit groggy but terror had jolted you awake for the most part. "Just go, son, no need for anyone to get hurt, yet," the man holding you smirked, pressing a gun to your temple. The cool metal made you shiver, your body already trembling like a leaf out of fear. You were carried to the back of a truck and cavalierly thrown into the back, a loud thud resulting. The back door was rolled down and you heard a lock click. The last thing you'd seen was Baby with tears rolling down his cheeks, still pleading with the men. You heard the gun go off and you screamed out in fear and pain, worried that your friend may have been murdered a few feet away from you. You heard the men get into the front of the truck and drive away quickly. Within a few minuets. It stopped and you backed yourself into a corner, trying to anticipate what could possibly happen next. The men, both holding guns, directed you to step out of the truck quickly and you obeyed. You were blindfolded and gagged, a zip tie wrapped around your wrists so tightly it hurt to move them. You walked with bare feet and a hand grasping your upper arm, guiding you to a set of stairs. You heard doors open and shut, locks twist and click. Your feet traveled across cold, smooth cement and you felt the hairs raise on your arms as the temperature decreased. You assumed you were in some kind of basement a door opened again and you were shoved forward, you failed to regain your balance and fell forward, your hands trying to catch you but you couldn't even see where the ground was. You fell into the floor with a hard thud, your hands unable to catch up due to the ties, and so most of your weight landed on the side of your arm. You groaned through the thick cloth gag in your mouth and you were quickly pulled up by your hair, your neck jerking upwards and your body scrambled to follow, trying to relieve the painful pull. You were led to a wall, it was hard and cold, and your hands were held upwards and tied to the wall somehow above your head. Finally the blindfold was removed, jerked downwards so it fell down around your neck. Your heart rate had never been so fast in your life, your chest rising and falling faster every second. Your head jerked to observe the room, everything was grey or silver, the walls, floor and ceiling cement, You looked above you to see a metal hook above your head where your ties were hooked. "Do you know who we are?" You shook your head rapidly, trying to placate your captors, the man who'd carried you seemed to be the more dominant one, standing uncomfortably close to you, the other day close to the door in a metal chair with a gun in his hands that were crossed loosely over his chest. He sunk his fist quickly into your stomach, your eyes widened in pain and your body tries to convulse away, your feet coming off of the floor as your muscles contracted in response to the blow, your hands already hurting badly from the pressure of the zip ties and the weight of your body. "Answer me out loud," the man snarled, his face right up against yours. He pulled back for a moment, putting on a facade of serenity. "So I'll ask again, do you know who we are?" You began to shake your head again but caught yourself and quickly sputtered out a rushed no, your breath still trying to return to your lungs after it was so harshly knocked out of you. "We just got screwed over by your little boyfriend and his friends, we were going to take him, but we figured that this would hurt more to him than getting beaten beyond recognition." The man smirked darkly, your body was still shaking out of fear and cold, you only wore your pajamas, thin shorts and a tank top that did nothing to protect you against your current circumstances. "Now, do you know what your boyfriend did to us?" "No- he, he doesn't tell me anything about that stuff he's not my boyfriend," you explained as quickly as you could. The man grabbed your jaw with a smile. "Not your boyfriend?" You shook your head quickly. "He sure seemed torn up leaving your place, to be just a friend, missy," he breathed, his breath smelled of cigarettes and something else you couldn't recognize. "Remember how mad the kid was coming out of her house, Benny?" The man said, turning away from you and loosening his grip on your jaw. "Yeah, kicked his tires, threw his phone and everything, full temper tantrum," the man laughed from his spot in the chair. You guessed that he had been just as upset by the fight as you had been. "Can only imagine the tantrum he's throwing now," the man laughed, turning back to you. Now. The phrase resonated with you. It was present tense. Meaning that as far as all of you knew, Baby was still alive. Baby had always been there for you in the past, you'd hoped that now would be no different, you just didn't want him to have to get hurt in the process, if he were to come to your aid. "Whatcha thinking about?" The man questioned with a grin, once again too close to you, his body sandwiching yours between him and the wall behind you, your arms growing ached and tired from holding your weight. "Nothing," you replied, not sure what to say. You figured that telling them your hopes for Baby coming to help you would not go over well. "Well, y'know what I'm thinking about?" He questing and you shook your head, adding a quiet 'no', not wanting to provoke your attacker any more. "You- how you're going to tell us everything we want to know, and how if you don't, how broken your body will end up," he said in a tone that sounded as sweet as pillow talk, which only made you more unsettled due to the words that actually flowed from between his lips. "So, you said you don't know anything about your boy's work, not even where he goes when he's called in?" You could only wonder how he knew how Baby's schedule was, down to the detail of his burner phone. "I- I don't know anything, he doesn't like to talk about it," the words tumbled from your lips and you could only hope they were convincing. The back of your attackers hand struck your cheek, slamming your face into the wall behind you. "Now, I'm sure you know a little something, I'd have to have to jog your memory," he threatened and once again struck your head. You could feel your face starting to bruise and your lip begin to drip blood. You could only stare over at the drain a few feet away and wonder how much of your blood would end up going into it. So far you had only released a few drops that splattered to the floor. Your captors paid no mind and continued to ask you questions you didn't know the answers to, mercilessly striking at you until you openly cried, using the last of your strength to kick at your captors, blood spilling from your skin and bruises forming patterns all over your skin. Your head hung down, you had no energy to hold it up anymore. "This could all end, you know," the man caressed your fave with one hand, the other gently sliding up your arms to your wrists that now had deep indentations in them that burned, due to your weight forcing the ties to dig into your skin painfully. You whimpered for Baby out loud, knowing he couldn't hear you, you could barely hear yourself. Your voice was hoarse from crying and screaming and pleading with your captors. Your eyes widened at the sound of the door opening with a loud crash, it hadn't been unlocked, it had been shot at and kicked down. Your eyes locked on Baby's who you recognized instantly. He looked absolutely frantic, his eyes hardening in a mix of determination and relief when he saw you and he pulled a gun out with shaking hands. You knew that he could barely shoot a gun, he hated to carry one usually. Suddenly, footsteps thundered behind him and you feared the worst until you recognized that the footsteps belonged to the rest of the team. The man by the door had drawn a gun on Baby but your friend barely seemed to notice, his gaze fixed on you. Pure fear was coasting through your veins with a whole new level of fervor, you'd worried Baby had been shot before, you couldn't bear to see him actually shot, especially not right in front o you, the team stood behind him with much heavier weapons, even Darling carrying a large automatic gun. Bats threw something into the room and you partially expected it to blow up, smoke filled the room and you felt your attacked press a gun to your head, before he could shoot you felt him ripped away from you with no warning, gunshots echoing in the room, as did groans, the air had become hard to see through, and you didn't know what to do, still positioned on the wall. You called Baby's name and within an instant smelled his familiar cologne and felt your body being removed from its position gently, Baby coughed due to breathing in the smoke, everyone had begun to cough and as the smoke cleared you realized that the entire team was still standing. Bats had blood running down his leg, you noticed as soon as the smoke cleared and he began to quickly limo out of the room. "Let's go!" He demanded firmly, Baby pulled you into his arms and you finally relaxed, being able to put your arms into a comfortable position and stretch your muscles, wincing as you could feel deep bruises with each movement. "I'm so sorry, they shot my tires I couldn't follow, I should never have left you I'm so sorry, YN," he breathed as he quickly followed the team, all of you still on the lookout for anyone left in the area who would do you harm. "No, Baby, I'm okay," you tried to sound tough, remembering the fight you'd had earlier now that you weren't in a life and death situation. "I know you aren't, YN, look at you, you're bleeding, oh god I should never have left I was being so stupid," his face was stained with tears and you only had the energy to close your eyes and relax into his warm body. You could tell he was still on edge, but much less so now that he was back with you and could keep you safe. Bats shot the two of you a look once you made it back to the dark streets outside, having completed the maze of hallways it took to leave the building. Baby gently placed you in the passenger seat of what you assumed was a replacement car, and called out to the team if anyone had a scissors or a knife to untie you. When there was no immediate response he grew frantic again, rambling about how he had to get you out and that your wrists were purple until Darling walked over after fishing a travel size scissors out of a bag she had stashed away in the car that she and Buddy always drove. "Here, loves," she said, handing over the scissors. "Thank you," you mumbled tiredly and Baby felt his heart break for the billionth time tonight. "Of course, angel, is there anything else we can do?" She questioned, reaching past Baby who had gone to work cutting off your bounds as gently as possible to stroke your hair that was damp with sweat and blood. "I mean I did get shot for you," Bats said from the passenger seat of his car, feigning bitterness. Everyone knew he had a soft spot for you, especially after he'd gone on a drunken tangent one night about how you reminded him of the daughter he thought he'd have back when his life was normal, he'd said you were the closest thing he would ever get to the daughter he'd wanted before passing out for the evening. "Thank you, I'm so sorry, Bats," you spoke, and although your voice couldn't be heard you knew everyone understood. "I'll just have to call in a favor sometime," Bats said and everyone knew he would never call in the favor, not from you. You nodded and Baby threw the now broken zip tie to the ground, handing the pair of scissors back to Darling. "You rest up, alright, let the kid take good care of you," Darling instructed with a motherly tone. You nodded, not knowing if after your fight Baby would do more than bring you home. You didn't voice your fears, but Darling could tell you were troubled, even with one of your eyes swollen shut. She leaned in for a hug, and Baby fr out of the way. Darling leaned close to you and whispered. "This kid loves you, he does, all he could talk about was how much he screwed up and how this was all his fault, and how much he hated himself for letting this happen, takenit easy play? Let him take care of you and he'll be just fine, amor," you felt your heart drop at the thought of Baby saying all those things and you nodded, Darling pulled away and joined Buddy who was loaded up the guns into the back of their car. Darling hopped into the back, Buddy hopped into the driver's seat and Bats stayed in the passenger seat. They sped away, presumably to get Bats medical attention somewhere. "Let's get you home, okay?" You nodded, Baby strapped you in as if you could disappear forever if he touched you. He drove the speed limit all the way home, not wanting to do anything else risky now or ever, especially not with you present. "I'm sorry," he said, his hands still shaking slightly as they controlled the steering wheel. "Baby, this wasn't your fault, is fighting wasn't your fault, and those guys taking me wasn't your fault, you're the only reason that I'm okay right now" "You don't have to act like you're okay!" Baby said firmly, his voice hoarse but raised higher than he intended to, you winced and nodded. Baby looked like he would burst into tears at the sight of you flinching. "I'm sorry, I was being such a dick earlier, I just wanted to make you jealous and then-" he stopped himself, the two of you were now pulling into the parking lot of your apartment. He quickly tried to change the subject. "Do you want to stay here tonight? Shit, I drove here without thinking, I could bring you somewhere else or I'll stay here if you want, so you feel safe?" You nodded, just wanting to go back the comfort of your own home. "Okay," he turned off the car, looking over at you for the billionth time since the two of you had been reunited. "Let's get you inside and cleaned up, okay?" You nodded, just glad to be safe and with your best friend. He carried you upstairs and brought you to your bathroom, running a bath while you sat on the counter, leaning against the wall in exhaustion. "Here, tell me if it's too hot," Baby said as he helped you get off the counter. You touched the water gingerly and looked back up at him. "It's great, thank you," your voice was still hoarse and your eyes were red and your entire body hurt with a deep ache. "Alright, I'll be right outside-" "Stay, please," his eyes widened and he nodded quickly, sitting down by the tub and closing his eyes as you stripped down and stepped in. This wasn't the first time Baby had seen you naked, and the fact that you were naked again didn't even resonate in the slightest with either of you, both of you just glad to be safe and together. "Thank you, for finding me," you spoke, looking at Baby from inside the tub, the warm water up to your chest, you hadn't even notice Baby adding in your favorite soap to make bubbles that floated around the surface of the water. "Of course, YN, you know I'd do anything to keep you safe, I'll always come get you, I promise," he said and you knew he was serious by the look on his face you only nodded, too tired to think of anything to say. "I'm sorry about earlier, I was being dumb, you can do whatever you want, Baby," Baby shushed you as soon as he processed your words. "No, you were right, I was only doing it, well if I'm being honest I was only seeing those girls to get to you, thought maybe it'd make me forget that I liked you more than I wanted to," Your eyes widened at his confession, his cheeks red. "I'm sorry, I should never have done that to you, the reason that I never saw any of those girls for long is because I realized that they weren't as good for me as you, YN, I know you don't like me like that, and you don't have to-" You sat up quickly, wincing at the pain that ensued. "Baby, I've liked you for months now, I was just jealous of those girls and I snapped tonight," you admitted with more confidence than you ever thought you'd have telling Baby how you felt about him. Now it was his turn with wide eyes, soaking in the information you gave him. He sat up, leaning close to you. You did the same. "Can I kiss you?" He asked and you nodded, before he could kiss you, you kissed him, ignoring the pain in your mouth from the earlier events of the night. He kissed you gently and broke away when the two of you needed a moment to begin breathing normally. "I love you, and I hope you know that I'm always going to be around to keep you safe, no matter what, YN," he just kept telling you, so many times you wondered if he was afraid that you doubted him. You stepped out of the tub, draining the water, Baby handed you a towel and gently carried you to your room. "Alright, here's your pajamas," he said, pulling mismatched clothing from your drawers, not wanting you to feel exposed in just the towel. You put them on and Baby turned down your blankets. "I'll be right back, okay?" You nodded and layers down. Baby came back with pain medicine and water for you, helping you sit up with pillows stacked behind you to support your weight. You took the pills and began to feel your muscles relax. "I'll be right here all night, okay? And when you wake up. I'm not going to leave, I love you, YN," he laid down next to you in the bed and couldn't help but think that his life was complete when you laid down close to him, your wet hair spread out behind you. "Love you, Baby," you repeated and felt yourself falling asleep, feeling safer than ever with Baby right next to humming a song to comfort you to sleep.

#baby driver #baby driver movie #baby driver soundtrack #ansel elgort x you #ansel elgort imagines #ansel elgort x reader #ansel elgort #jaime foxx #baby driver cast #kevin spacey #my writing #boost this #signal boost #please reblog #please read #imagines #one shot #preference #requests are open