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hopeamarsu · 3 years

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Hello m'lady! I'm so excited to see you're accepting prompts! If this strikes your fancy, may I request : “What happened to us?” and “I can be your reason why.” for our Frankie??? ANGST HOTEL HERE WE COME...MAYBE?!? Thank you for your time 💚🌿💚

My darling lady, I'm so happy to get your request! 💚

One huge dose of angsty Frankie coming right up. Oh, this one has a happy ending too. I hope you enjoy this, I'm sending a lot of hugs your way.

I can be your reason why

Frankie Morales x gn!reader

Word count 1,4k

Warnings: Hospitals, accident, mention of drunk driver, mention of death (Frankie was in the army), angst, sad sad sad, pining, hopeful ending

The room is so white, right down to the bedsheet that covers your lower half.

The white machines hooked on your body, keeping a check on vitals and making sure you are fine, look like something out of a sci-fi film for Frankie. He hates that he has to see them in multitudes as well as the monitors above your bed drawing lines as you breathe and your heart pumps blood and medicine all over your body, healing you.

To say he’d been surprised to get the call from the hospital at 4 in the morning was an understatement when he’d been shocked to the core. Ever since you had had a big fight with him all those months ago, something that was still unsettled and gnawed at his guts, Frankie had been certain he’d been crossed off the list for good and he had only himself to blame.

He had tried to scrub the yelling, the insults, and the low blows out of his mind, but every time he’d glance at his phone and see his wallpaper of you and his daughter smiling together and it would all come back.

“Fuck you, Frankie! I can’t believe you out of all the people would say this! You were supposed to be my friend!”

“Cariño, please…”

“NO! No Frankie, just no. You’ve gone too far this time.”

“Please, please let me explain. Please.”

“Absolutely not. I heard you loud and clear the first time Francisco and, God, what happened to us? Where did we go wrong? I thought you’d… I thought you understood… I thought...”

He can still hear the sniffles, feel the pain in his stomach as he watches you slam the door on his face on the film reel in his mind, and the desperation that creeps up his spine as his texts and calls go unanswered for weeks. He remembers asking the guys to call you and the mountain of ice spreading through his veins when Will told him that you had blocked his number and didn’t want him to contact you.

Frankie contemplated going to your house after that, but what good would it do? He was broken, beaten and lying breathless on the ground. Nothing would help him rise from there. Definitely not you. He is still all those things and more because he doesn’t have you beside him to weather out the stormy seas.

Getting cut off from you hurt him on levels he had trouble comprehending. Frankie had gotten used to you being around, comfortable in the knowledge that you had always been there as his friend and would always be there and that was his grave mistake.

All those moments in the playground swing back in teenage years when he escaped the yelling and shouting in his house, turbulent times in college where he began experimenting with his sexuality and life all the way to his high-risk career in the Army, the coke rap and losing his lady to another man. You had always been there for him.

You had been his rock and his most ardent supporter, Santi hot on your heels but never reaching the level of trust and intimacy you shared with Frankie. All the times he fucked up, needed a shoulder to cry on or a couch to sleep off his desire to go out and find one of his bad habits for a visit, you opened your door to help him. And what had he done for you? Fuck all but trouble and heartbreak and pain in measures he can never pay back.

He hangs his head, his ballcap twisted between his fists as he wrings the fabric to give himself something to do. He would do anything, everything to take back the last 3 and half months and just hold you tight and tell you that he believes in you and will stand by you in all the ways you want him.

But you are sleeping, eyes closed, hooked up to all the machines that monitor your body and Frankie cannot do that. He’s not sure if he’s even allowed to touch you, because just being in the same room as you without your permission feels like an invasion of sorts.

“Cariño, if you can hear me, I am so sorry. I’m so sorry for all the words, all the insults thrown in your face and all the pain I’ve caused you. I wish… I wish I could take it all back.”

He whispers, placing his hand next to you where it lays on top of the bedsheet. The difference between them shocks him still, your elegant fingers next to his calloused and battered ones. The way your skin is unmarred by scars where he has all these silver lines criss-crossing his knuckles.

Taking care to avoid the IV line, he gently moves your hand into his and sighs at the first connection in months. The softness of your hand against his roughness is still something out of a dream; how something so beautiful and lovely and gorgeous could ever want something so dark, drenched in the blood of people he’s killed and lost count of is a mystery Frankie never hopes to have to solve.

Like a thief in the night, he steals yet one more moment with you as he squeezes your hand gently. And like a greedy one too, he rises from the creaky plastic hospital chair and kisses your forehead, pushing his luck a little further. Frankie begins talking, his deep timbre bouncing off the walls as he tells you stories you’ve heard a thousand times already but which bring him comfort.

His thumb strokes your knuckles softly, a soothing gesture more for him than you, while he continues telling you things. Time ticks by and Frankie’s voice grows tired and gravely, but he refuses to stop. He talks about Will, Benny and Santi, the ways all of them get together weekly and he talks about Olivia, his pride and joy, and how she grows and how she misses you. How he misses his friend.

The tone tinges with sadness as Frankie starts to talk about your accident and what has happened in the past couple of days. “They caught him, the drunk bastard that ran the red light. He’s in custody and the traffic cameras have him on tape. You are not going to have to see him, he’ll be locked up for a good time. You just need to get better, cariño, so you can kick my ass in softball again and tell me Oreos taste superior when dunked in cold milk.”

He takes a deep breath, blinking away to keep his raw emotions hidden. Had you not changed your medical info and your contact in case of emergency details, he wouldn’t even be here with you, known about your accident, and the mere idea breaks him, wounds him deep. He hides his tears in his sleeve as he tries to gather himself up again. Frankie needs to be strong now, you have a long recovery ahead of you and he will do his best to help you.

“Te amo, mi corazón y mi alma. Por favor, vuelve a mi. I want to kiss you and tell you I belong to you, that I love you more than as a friend. You hold my heart already and I will gladly give it to you if you come back to me. Smile for me again. I can be your reason why, I’ll do anything to see your soft lips grinning at me, with me...” It becomes too much and Frankie folds in half, draping his upper body on the bed as he cries uncontrollably.

He doesn’t know how long he weeps, the seconds and minutes all blurring together as the sleeves of his shirt go from damp to soaked but he doesn’t care. Frankie loves you and he almost lost you for good and he cannot hold it in anymore. He loves you and he needs to tell you.

He’s so deep inside his mind that he doesn’t recognize the weight on top of his head first. But when fingers card through his locks repeatedly and the motion registers, he’s shocked into reality. Frankie lifts his head carefully, eyes blurry and almost afraid of what he will see.

Your eyes are droopy but the small upturn of the corners of your lips as you regard him softly forces another sob from his chest and it takes all of his willpower not to kiss you right then and there. Your hand doesn’t stop moving as you look at each other in silence, fingers in his curls and Frankie is finally back home, breathing freely.

His lips move, though no sound comes out, telling you te amo over and over again.

Everything taglist @clydesducktape @wayward-rose @themuseic @miraclesabound @clydesfavoritegirl @a-true-janian-reply @10blurredsmoke10 @caillea @mind-p0llution @mariesackler

#m takes requests #my writing #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales #catfish morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #cw: hospital #cw: drunk driver #cw: accident #angst #sadness #cw: mention of death #tw: hospital #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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trashytummiez · 3 years

Text

Motion Sick Gaming

@squidbiscuit made this amazingly cute pic yesterday of Raihan getting all burpy on his stream from motion sickness. I had to make this fic after that. <3

Raihan usually loved livestream gaming. It was always a really fun way of interacting with his fans and where he got the most donations. Unfortunately he often tended to forget that some games really go in way too fast and loose with the camera.

He was playing an FPS about a cyborg who goes up against renegade cyborgs just like him. Fun game with really reactive controls and intense boss battles but that also meant the camera moved way too fast for Raihan’s eyes to properly keep up. So all poor Raihan could do was sit in his gamers chair and try his best to soldier on without getting too sick in front of his watchers.

“And that’s the warehouse boss cleared,” Raihan said into his headphone mic. He sounded groggy already and huffed mildly. “She really makes you leap’n run all over the place huh...”

He turned his head and held in a burp he felt rising up his throat then cringed at the unpleasant taste in his mouth.

“Ungh, now the park level. Think this is where I gotta take out all the bad guys in like five minutes or else a bomb kills all the hostages...”

Raihan cringed remembering how fast paced this level was going to be.

Just as he feared it wasn’t long before he had to start blasting his way through terrorists in a gorgeous park setting. There were so many with rocket launchers that Raihan had to constantly be leaping and using his mouse to quick-fire at every rocket that got shot his way. The loose camera lurched way too fast with each sharp turn of Raihan’s mouse and made Raihan’s face go a little green.

Not only that but his hoodie covered tummy released a really thick and unpleasant gurgling.

GRRRRUUUUUOOOOOORRGGGL!

Raihan raised a fist to his mouth and muffled a really deep burp that clearly got picked up into his mic.

MMMFUURRRRRRRPH!!!

Raihan huffed making his tongue stick out and revealing his fangs in a more sickly manner. “Uhaaaah...sorry chat-urp-forgot how wonky the camera in this game is...”

He appeared as if he was sweating a little from how nauseous he was getting.

One of the chats asked him if he should take a break or play something else.

Raihan managed a weak smile and shook his head. “Nah it’s fine. Just gotta be a lil more careful with my aim...”

He kept playing and the level never let up. Raihan’s character was turning so much he almost resembled an owl which did nothing to ease the growing nausea brewing in his stomach.

Another loud and unpleasant gurgle erupted from his tummy and had Raihan exhaling a deep breath to keep from feeling too sick but it didn’t work. It was no wonder all the reviews kept criticizing the games camerawork and not having a sensitivity scale to manipulate like any self resecting PC game.

Raihan paused the came when it to be too much slouching in his chair with his head hanging low. “Unngh...that’s brutal,” Raihan said with a nauseous huff.

His breath hitched and he leaned back in his chair with one hand on his belly then turned his head to muffle a really wet burp that left him cringing after.

HHHHHHRRRRRRRMMPH!!!!

“Unnnngh, ‘scuse me,” Raihan mumbled in sickly fashion while rubbing his churning belly with one hand. “Sorry chat. Really don’t mean to be burping into the mic like that...”

Lot of chats popped up assuring Raihan it was okay or thanking him for playing but saying he didn’t need to if he didn’t want to. Of course with twitch he also got quite a few chats popping up and practically begging him to burp more.

One popped up suggesting he try ginger ale to see if it would help his tummy problems. They also donated ten euros if he got the full bottle instead of just a cup.

Raihan huffed again. “Ungh, thanks for the donation...guess it couldn’t hurt...”

So Raihan took his headset off and got up from his seat with a groan still holding his tummy in one hand when he walked off to grab a drink. While he was off-camera the chat could hear a really loud and raunchy burp erupt from the kitchen followed by a relieved moan from Raihan. Some chats popped up lol-ing. Others posted heart emojis and a few expressed disappointment that he wasn’t on camera to let loose.

He eventually came back with a 2 liter bottle of ginger ale and sat back down.

Raihan huffed again then put his headset back one. “Alright chat. Let’s see if this does anything...”

He unscrewed the bottle and began chugging down. With his mic so close to his lips it picked up and amplified the sound of his gulping for his watchers. So many of them fawned over the loud squelch of his throat taking in so much soda. Others jokingly posted ‘chug chug chug!’ Raihan downed a good portion of the bottle with his eyes clenched shut and letting the ginger settle. His tummy bubbled heavily from all the carbonated liquid filling him up so fast but he just needed to feel less nauseous.

Eventually he pulled the bottle away and panted heartily inadvertently giving his viewers a good look at the inside of his mouth.

He set the bottle down and huffed some more. Then there was an audible gurgle that rose up his throat and made his head lurch in his neck for a moment until Raihan released a huge burp right into his mic.

BLLUUUURRRRRROOOOOOOOOOORRRAAAAAHP!!!!!!!

It was so strong that it practically made his volume levels peak.

Raihan leaned back in his chair and rubbed his belly with one hand gasping heavily. A low burp rolled out from the corner of his mouth exposing his fangs some more and then a tiny after burp.

UUuuuuuuurrrrllloooorlhp!

Urp!

His hand firmly ran up and down his turbulent tummy really digging his fingers into it. He looked really concentrated like he could feel another one building up inside. Then he clutched his belly and released a really throaty burp.

HAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUURRRRAAAAAAAAAAHP!!!!

The feed was going nuts with superchats and donations. Raihan just laughed in an exhausted sort of way and shook his head. “Faaaah...hah...bloody hell, there’s still more in there,” he said patting his belly a few times and releasing a short but sharp burp after.

Raihan sighed and rubbed his belly in a more satisfied manner humming to himself.

“Man...that’s way better,” he breathed in relieved fashion to his viewers. “Brilliant suggestion, mate. Stomach feels way less grumbly now...but I think I’mma take your advice and cut the stream short theEEEEEEEEEERRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHP!!!” His sentence was cut short when a raunchy burp cut him off midsentence.

He blushed and covered his mouth.

“...Guess that was the rest I was waiting for...” he said chuckling embarrassingly.

Though he probably shouldn’t have been too embarrassed. That little display of gaseousness was probably going to see his sub-count surge once the compilations started going out.

Oh the things Raihan did for his fans.

#kink fic #emeto #sick fic #raihan #burping #burp kink #belly rub #soda chug #stomachache #feeling ill #twitch #streaming #gaming

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detectivecarlosreyes · 3 years

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Keeping the line open

Ao3 | 3.2k | Rated: Gen | Tarlos

Summary Carlos hated this. Hated how he made TK feel. Hated how he felt himself. It was eating him up inside to know that he was the cause of this whole situation. It’s not like he and TK hadn’t had any arguments before, they had a number of them before they had figured out what they were and what they meant to each other at the beginning of their relationship. ~ aka Carlos's perspective in the aftermath of the fight in 2x04 and all that followed when TK returned.

For @911lonestarangstweek : Day 3 fix-it/Coda

Carlos hated this.

Hated how he made TK feel. Hated how he felt himself. It was eating him up inside to know that he was the cause of this whole situation. It’s not like he and TK hadn’t had any arguments before, they had a number of them before they had figured out what they were and what they meant to each other at the beginning of their relationship.

But this one had a finality to it.

“I freed some more space in your closet. Carlos.”

That’s what TK had said, and Carlos wasn’t sure where that left them.Was that a break-up? It kind of felt like it was, and that made it even worse. Because he didn’t know for sure if it actually was a break-up, or if TK just said it in the heat of the moment but didn’t actually mean anything by it.

Carlos’ stomach roiled at the mere recollection, just the thought of it left him feeling like he was in relationship limbo again, a place he thought he would never be in again since they got together, the day aurora borealis lit the sky. He groaned as he lay in bed, hearing the words repeat over and over again, effectively ruining any chance he had of getting any sleep. Unable to push it from his mind, Carlos tried calling him once but was sent straight to voicemail and followed it up with a text asking him, almost pleading for TK to call him back, hopeful to just be able to talk to him and explain everything. He wondered how TK was, hoped that he was okay, that he made it home to his parents safely. All he could think about was his concern for TK’s welfare and how much he had royally screwed up.

The rest of his night was a sleepless one. One spent in the kitchen, in an attempt to calm his mind with the structure that a recipe would give him, making sweet, chocolate-filled empanadas, something that he learned to make for late-night study sessions in college. It was a calming balm to his turbulent mind. helped it to push aside the frenetic feeling of anxiety over one pissy fight that ended leaving him feeling like it was the end of the world, of their relationship, even if, realistically, it probably wasn’t.

This is not how he wanted things to go. It was not the way he wanted the first meeting between his parents and his boyfriend to happen. The one boyfriend that he actually felt confident in introducing to his parents. He had a plan. One that involved preparing both parties before they officially met over a nice home-cooked meal, not some chance meeting that left him panicking and lying and hurting the man that practically owns his heart.

He hated that he was the cause of this argument, this fight, and the reason for disturbing their bubble of bliss of just being together and loving one another freely. The last thing he wanted was to upset his boyfriend. To blindside him without giving him any forewarning about his past, about his family, to give him all the facts of what he was walking into of the relationship, especially considering how forthcoming TK had been in the past.

When TK asked him about his parents he shouldn’t have evaded the question. It was a topic that he would’ve had to have faced at some point if he was going to make the plan a reality anytime in the near future, like how he’s imagined it so many times. Why didn’t he just tell TK his history with his parents when he asked about them? It’s a question that spun around and around in his head since TK had walked out the door. And he knew the answer, he just didn’t want to admit it to himself.

Carlos had always prided himself in being comfortable with who he was. Self-assured and confidant, a calming presence for the people that needed it. He buried that insecurity surrounding his sexuality and his parents beneath that persona and didn’t want to bring it to light again. Didn’t want to confront his parents and really get them to understand and see him and his sexuality completely. Didn’t want his openness in front of them to potentially compromise the love and acceptance he got when he first came out.

He knew he shouldn’t have made light of the situation by trying to crack jokes, knowing as soon as he started that TK wasn’t going to appreciate his effort to de-escalate the situation with ill-timed jokes, but it was the only defense he had. He hadn’t wanted to lay himself bare and be completely truthful because deep down he was insecure, a feeling that he hid not just from others but also himself. He was afraid of being exposed because deep down he was afraid that it would be a repeat of the last time he was truly vulnerable when he had come out to his parents.

This was all he thought about for most of the day, leaving him exhausted and distracted through most of his shift, but acting as though he was fine when really he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. He didn’t linger once his shift ended like he usually would, not feeling up to pretending that he was okay. Pretending that the finality of his argument with TK didn’t hurt, because it did, Carlos had thought that TK was going to be the one. The first one to introduce to his parents when the time was right. He had thought that he had more time. He knew his mind was spiralling to the worst-case scenario, and logically he knew that TK would talk to him eventually, but logic was not enough to quell the feeling of dread surrounding their relationship.

He didn’t call or text all day, wanting to give TK the space that he clearly wanted and when he got home, he tried to distract himself further by doing a load of laundry, which didn’t just include his clothes, but TK’s as well. The washing didn’t really distract as he hoped though, still finding himself gravitating back to his phone hoping that TK might have messaged or called with a change of heart. None came through and it left him feeling somewhat hopeless to think that might change. He’s had breakups before, but none have come close to what he was feeling. And that meant something. Because he saw a future with TK, something that he’s never entertained with past relationships.

Eventually, he collapsed on the couch in his sweatpants in a perpetual state of turmoil and regret, lamenting over how all of this could have been avoided if he had just been honest in the first place. His resolve was cracking now that he wasn’t occupied and it left him with his thumb hovering over TK’s name in his contacts with a strong want to break the deafening silence between them and just get the relief of hearing TK’s voice. Somehow he managed to refrain from doing so, now wanting to give away his desperation in a series of texts or calls.

He startled an hour later when someone knocked at the door while he was on his way to check on the laundry that had just finished its cycle to put in the dryer. Curious, having not had any messages from anyone else to say they were stopping by he peers through the window beside the door to discover a familiar silhouette, causing his hands to sweat anxiously.

With hesitation, he opened the door wide before drawing it back in, apprehensive of the fact that TK chose not to use his key and what that meant. “Hey,” he said quietly suddenly feeling nervous, seeing the seriousness in TK’s face.

“Hi,” answered TK, just as softly, “Can I come in?”

“You’ve got a key.”

“Yeah, I thought, maybe you might want that back.”

“Why? Are we breaking up?” He asked and then continued, suddenly feeling fed up and not wanting to beat around the bush anymore, “Or did that already happen because it kinda felt like it did.”

“No,” TK said quickly before following it up with a hesitant, “I mean, I hope not.”

“Come in.” He gestured inside and stepped out of the way.

Trying not to be confrontational, he stayed by the door after he closed it with his hand in his pockets and waited as TK led the conversation, interjecting when TK said that he had acted like a little bitch, which he didn’t, he had made some valid points even if he had been a little dramatic about it. Carlos was slightly taken aback however when TK said he wasn’t sorry, and found his phrasing characteristically confusing, a typical occurrence when he wasn’t sure how exactly to get across the point he was trying to make.

“… do you know what I mean?”

“Not really.”

He didn’t say anything more, allowing for TK to take a different tact as he relocated to ottoman making it clear that he wasn’t going anywhere, and explained what he meant. TK was being completely open and honest about how the day before had made him feel, a sight different from how cagey he used to be when they first met.

“It kills me,” he admitted after TK had said his piece and he finally moved from his spot and sat in front of TK, relieved that TK was clearly willing to hear him out, “Which is exactly why I was avoiding introducing you because I didn’t want that to happen and I- I knew it would.”

“Yeah, but did it have to? They knew you were gay.” He could see that TK was trying to understand, trying to make sense of what he was saying with the limited knowledge of what he knew so far.

“They know, yes.” He said quickly. Trying to find the right words, he took a deep breath, feeling the floodgates lift as he tells TK everything that he’s withheld up until now, wringing his hands as he does so.

“I came out to them when I was seventeen. They were shocked. I- I knew it rocked their world, but they hugged me and told me they loved me and that was that. Do you know what we talked about the next morning? Hmm? The Astros bullpen, the price of unleaded, a new calf in our family ranch. Not one mention of what I shared… then or… since.”

“They seemed like such nice people.”

“They are nice people,” he corrected TK, “But, they’re not perfect people.”

“You know, my parents may be very queer-friendly, but they’re not perfect either,” TK offered, Carlos thinks as a way to help him feel better, “They just gave me a pep talk, that felt like it was more about them than about me.”

Carlos could feel his nerves settling, having unburdened himself and having TK listen and hear the words that he had, up until this point, left unspoken through his avoidance of the topic while also offering a piece of his own upbringing to allay any residual discomfort he had over this conversation.

“That explains a lot,” he says amused, finding the stress slowly melting away.

TK continued, “There was something that my mom did say though. She said… that I felt triggered because I didn’t feel safe in this relationship.” Carlos broke eye contact with TK as he felt his heart plummet to the floor.

“I see. I’m sorry to hear that.” He said, doing his best to keep his voice steady, trying to swallow the emotions caught in his throat and wondering if this might actually be it for them after all that, but TK continued speaking, instantly brushing away the anxiety that had spiked within him.

“But you know what I didn’t consider? Is how unsafe you feel and have felt for so much of your life.”

Carlos’s breath caught in his throat as he looked up at TK in wonder, he didn’t expect to feel quite so seen and understood that it left him breathless with his eyes reflexively watering in relief. He could feel the knot in his stomach loosen at that thought as TK slotted his hands into his own, taking a firm and reassuring grip.

“I want you to know that I am fully on board. You can tell your parents I am your friend, your colleague, your personal shopper...” That last one made Carlos laugh considering how that must have looked to his parents at the market, “…I don’t care. Okay? As long as you need.”

As much as he loved knowing how willing TK was to stay by his side regardless of their situation, there was something he had to know and it hurt him to even ask but he knew it wouldn’t be fair to TK if he didn’t, “And if it never changes?” He couldn’t keep the vulnerability from his voice and felt completely at TK’s mercy, knowing that what he says next could very well influence the rest of their relationship, if TK felt he wouldn’t be able to withstand the possibility of being indefinitely his ‘friend from work’ in the eyes of his parents.

“Nothing ever stays the same, Carlos.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t and that seemed alright with TK. Instead, he draws TK’s hands held in his grasp and gently holds them to his lips as he shuts his eyes in gratitude. He stays like that, breathing in deep and soothingly, sensing as TK drew himself in closer and felt the touch of his lips pressed against his bowed forehead.

“We’ve unpacked a lot tonight.” TK murmurs into his temple when his lips broke contact, “How about I order us some of your favourite food from that restaurant you like, and we can just curl up on the couch and watch a movie?”

“I’d like that.” Carlos breathed out, any residual tension in his body leaving him as he does so, feeling the weight of the world lift from his shoulders. He opened his eyes and released TK’s hands, shaking himself out of the moment, remembering that he was heading to the laundry when TK had turned up.

“I- ah I just need to move washing to the dryer if either of us are going to have any clothes for work tomorrow.”

TK stood up with him and moved in the opposite direction, heading towards the door leaving Carlos to follow him with his eyes questioningly. “TK?”

TK turned with his hand on the door, a bashful look flushing his face, “I left my phone in my bag outside-- I knew you wanted to talk but I wasn’t sure you actually wanted to see me,” TK opened the door and picked up his duffle, the same one he walked out with the previous night, “…couldn’t bring myself to unpack it.”

Carlos chuckled lightly from where he was standing, shaking his head in amused disbelief. “You couldn’t bring yourself to unpack your bag, and I couldn’t even bring myself to passive-aggressively wash only my clothes that were in the hamper, we’re both hopeless.” He said before disappearing in the direction of the laundry room, leaving TK to order dinner.

When he returned TK was already on the couch, elbows propped on knees as he finished up making their dinner order, one that he seemed to have rote learned from the few times that they’d had it. Dropping his phone to the side as the order went through, TK invited with an outstretched arm for him to settle in as he picked up the remote, “dinner should be here in 30 minutes.”

Carlos fell into TK’s open arms and easily positions himself partially lying across his lap with his back resting against his chest leaving TK to wrap his arms around his torso as he proceeded to pick a movie. He relaxed into the embrace, comforted but the slow rise and fall of TK’s chest against his back.

Carlos waited until the opening credits started on the movie that they watched at least half a dozen times and kissed the inside of TK’s bicep before saying, “We have dessert for tonight. I ended up making chocolate empanadas in the middle of the night and stress ate too many to count because I couldn’t sleep at all last night.”

He felt TK shift beneath him, “I barely slept either.”

Carlos continued, “I’m glad you came back. With the way that you left, I wasn’t sure that you would. I had built it up in my head with all the things I should have done differently to the point that I thought this was an irreparable deal-breaker.”

“Carlos, I was always going to come back, you have to know that--” TK said, conviction clear in his voice, causing Carlos to sit up, propped up on his arms to look at him properly, “--I know I said I wasn’t sorry, but I am-- for making you feel like that. I just needed time to process it all.”

“I know and I get that now. And I’m sorry too, for putting you in that situation in the first place, this wasn’t the way that I planned on introducing you to my parents.”

His admittance erased the guilt swimming in TK’s eyes and brought forth its usual mischievous sparkle in its place, “Oh, so there was a plan?”

“Uh-huh.” He responded mirthfully with a smirk, not giving much away, and returned to his original position, finding TK’s arms circle him more tightly and felt his chin rest lightly on the crown of his head. The was a beat or two before he spoke again, “TK?”

“Yeah?”

He placed a hand over TK’s, “I don’t want to fight like that again. I hated the silence and not being able to just talk to you.”

“I hated it too,” TK murmured into his hair and there was a quiet moment between them.

“What if… what if we make it so that it doesn’t happen like that again?”

“What are you thinking?”

Carlos paused for a second, gathering his thoughts, “We need to be able to communicate, to be open and honest about a problem with each other, even if it’s to say that we might not be ready to talk about it, just, you know, acknowledge it for a later conversation?”

“Keeping the line open to one another.” TK summarised thoughtfully.

“Yeah,”

“Okay. I like the sound of that.” TK responded softly and sealed it with a kiss into his hair.

The rest of the evening was spent comfortably, how it should have been the night before, eating dinner together on the couch, reciting their favourite parts of what was left of the movie, wrapped up with one another.

They finished off what was left of the empanadas and eventually fell into bed in exhaustion, completely stuffed and at peace, no longer anxious or upset as they were the previous night. If they were slightly more clingy than usual, well neither of them were going to say anything about it because they still had each other and that was what mattered.

The last words spoken by both of them, just like every other night, was a promise and a quiet declaration of “I love you”, sealed with a good night’s kiss.

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luvervinyl · 3 years

Text

The Heartbreak of Goodbyes

Pairing: Jemily

Warnings: angst, death mention, a lil bit of fluff, sad ending </3

Summary: JJ's last couple days with Emily in Paris before she goes to London.

Word count: 1.7k+

A/N: so… I wrote a thing because I had motivation for once… enjoy <3 I also made myself cry writing this. I am not mentally stable enough to be doing this </3

_ _ _ _ _

Imagine having to say goodbye to the love of your life, not knowing when or if you will ever get them back. It truly is a very hard thing to do.

_ _ _ _ _

JJ and Emily sit next to each other on the jet in silence, fingers intertwined with the others, gazing out the windows of the jet. Lingering stares of fear and sorrow were frequently passed between the two. They were both holding back tears that were so close to breaking free.

Emily finally let out a sad sigh, "I can't believe this is happening"

"I know, I wish I didn't have to be like this, I don't know what I would do without you…"

"It'll be okay though. We will see each other again… right?"

"We can only hope," those words, potentially the hardest words for her to say. Because god all she wants is to see her again. This isn't what either of them wanted.

It wasn't until JJ grasped Emily's hard a little harder out of impulse when the jet hit a turbulent, that they realized that this was truly goodbye, in less than 48 hours they would be playing it off as everything was okay. Emily, living her own life in London, away from JJ.

JJ, having to pretend that she isn't wishing that Emily was in her arms… because she would be dead… to everyone else's knowledge, at least.

Time being an unknown factor, the unknown amount of time Emily would be in Paris and not with JJ. Every moment that passed, every wasted chance, every memory, both good and bad hitting them all at once. It was enough for the tears to start falling.

JJ didn't know how she could do it without her. Emily was her lover, her support, her co-worker, and best friend. She didn't know how she could stay strong without her.

"I- how do I stay strong without you with you, Emily… how do I do it? I don't know how to go about life without you-" The sobs cut her off.

Emily brought her hand up to wipe away the tears that were now streaming down JJ's face. Wiping them away, she cupped her cheek with her hand, taking in the sight of her love, knowing that it would be an eternity before she could feel her touch again. JJ's lips met hers for a passionate kiss to really take in the moment.

Pulling away for a breath, Emily's touch lingered moments after she removed her hand from JJ's cheek. If that was what it would be like without Emily, it would be unbearable to say the least.

"I can't do this without you, Emily…"

"You can, you're strong, I will be back soon" she said a small reassuring smile appeared on her face momentarily.

Sitting in a comfortable silence, they wait for the plane to land so they can spend one last day and a half together before they're off living their own lives for however long Emily will be in Paris for.

Hoping for the remaining hours to go slowly once they land, wanting to treasure the hours left, the hours left with each other.

_ _ _ _ _

The plane landed and they got out and they were off, checking into a hotel that they would stay at for the night before JJ left in the morning and Emily was transferred elsewhere.

They quickly dropped everything off in the hotel room and then they made their way over to a coffee shop nearby. Fingers intertwined as they walked down the busy streets to get there. Cool air blowing at their faces, the smell of coffee now in the air as they step into the coffee shop.

Ordering their coffee's, the couple walked out of the shop down to a park near there. After all they wanted to enjoy this last day together, so they decided that they might as well make it fun.

Walking around the park the cool spring air, sending shivers down their spines. Finding a big tree, they sit down under it admiring the view around them.

"It's so pretty"

"Yeah, it is, but not as pretty as you"

"You're such a flirt, Em," JJ said as she let out a little laugh.

They stayed there for a while, the sun started to set and then they made their way back to the hotel.

Heading inside, Emily collapsed down onto the bed, JJ following in suit right after. Turning to face each other, staring at the other's eyes JJ brought her hand up to rest on Emily's cheek.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill out. Despite having a few hours left with JJ, just the thought of being away from her was enough to make her cry. JJ wiped away the falling tears, giving her a small, sad smile.

"It's going to be okay…" JJ said in a way that seemed as though she was trying to convince herself of it.

Who was going to wipe away her tears when JJ was in DC, away from her…

Closing her eyes, trying to get her breathing back to normal, the tears falling quickly, JJ pulled her into her arms, holding her close. Emily rests her head on JJ's chest, her shirt soaking up the tears that just wouldn't stop.

"I'm going to miss you a lot, JJ".

"I'm going to miss you too, Emily".

JJ, brushing Emily's hair with her fingers, causing Emily to calm down and sink into her touch. Pulling the covers over themselves, they started to drift off to sleep. JJ placed a kiss on Emily's head, then fell asleep. The comfort of each other, the touch, something they may not have for a while after.

_ _ _ _ _

The sun cascaded through the room from the large panel windows in the hotel room. Still holding on to each other Emily's eyes flutter open as she lifts her head off JJ's chest slightly. Her eyes met with JJ's deep blue ones. A small smile appeared on her face, all she wanted to do for the rest of her life is to be with her.

"Good morning, Jayje"

"Morning, Em"

Emily pressed a kiss to JJ's collarbone and then to her lips. Pulling apart with a lingering smile on both their faces, eyes locked with the others. Almost forgetting what was going to happen today. It was as if they were in their own little world, with just them in it.

Looking at the clock on the table, next to the bed, it was almost time to say goodbye. Emily's smile dropped, it was like her little bubble that she was in with JJ for a few minutes was popped, and she was taken back to reality at full force.

JJ tilts Emily's chin up and just looks at her sad brown eyes. They slowly roll out of bed get ready, they had a few hours to spend together before JJ had to go, and Emily had to go to London from there.

They spent the next few hours exploring parts of Paris and enjoying each other's company, just letting reality seep in. Things weren't going to be normal for months, if at all.

Time seemed to go faster than usual, before they knew it it was time to say goodbye. JJ's flight back to DC was set to happen in an hour. The sun setting, it was time.

Emily's hands clasped both of JJ's. Too late to stop the tears, they were falling so quickly. Speechless, they never thought they'd have to do this.

The cool night air biting at thier noses. They rested their foreheads together.

"We'll be able to see each other again, we will… okay?"

"Yeah"

Emily brought her hand up to JJ's face, wiping away the tears, reassuring her that they'd be able to see each again, despite not knowing if they would be able to herself.

"One second" she said as she let go of JJ's hands.

Emily reached into her pocket and pulled out a gold necklace with a small gold locket attached.

"Here, JJ I want you to have this, so you'll always have something to remind yourself of me, of us. No matter what happens".

Putting it around JJ's neck, it looking so good on her.

"It looks great on you"

She smiled through the heartbreak of saying goodbye. JJ grabbed Emily's face and pulled her in for a deep chaste kiss.

"Come here," JJ said breathlessly.

JJ's hands around the back of Emily's neck, fingers in her hair. Emily's hands on JJ's waist. Pulling away for a moment to catch their breath then placing one more kiss on her lips. They rested their heads together, one last smile breaking through.

"This wasn't exactly how I expected our first trip to Paris to be"

Emily let out a small chuckle, "oh, really?"

"Yeah"

It was time… the clock struck midnight. Not wanting to let go of JJ's hands, she just wanted to be in her arms forever. Not this, not like this.

"I have to go now… I'll see you soon. I promise"

"I love you Emily Prentiss… I always will"

"And I love you, Jennifer Jareau, forever"

She placed a kiss on each of JJ's knuckles before slowly letting go of into the streets lit by the mood light.

"Goodbye, my love…" JJ whispered to herself.

Leaving JJ standing there tears still falling, her hair blowing with the breeze, one hand clutching the necklace Emily have her. The other still grasping the air where Emily once was.

She was gone… she was really gone…

_ _ _ _ _

Taglist:

@gcld-rush @royalpenelope @haleymalaffey @abitcriminalminds

#oc #cm #writing #jemily #Criminal Minds fanfiction #Criminal Minds #jemily fanfiction #jj x emily #Jennifer Jareau #JJ #emily prentiss #jemily fanfic

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cupcakey00 · 3 years

Text

It’s Just Instinct, Pt. 2

hello, everyone! here’s part 2 of “It’s Just Instinct,” a super short Nessian fic! there will indeed be a part 3. Highkey don’t like this part nearlyyyyy as much as I did part 1, but still, I hope you enjoy :)

part 1

words: 3,321

warning: there is some foul language.

______________________________________________________________

Cassian couldn’t let go of Nesta no matter how hard he’d tried, couldn’t keep his hands off her. Not while she was injured. It was but a shallow cut, one a child’s mother would kiss and bandage before sending them off to continue playing, and yet he couldn’t stop the quiver in his hands as his fingertips traced the raised skin around the minor wound, his touch a sorrowful prayer against her skin, one that Cassian couldn’t begin to understand why Nesta would let him do after he’d failed her once again.

They sat in silence, Nesta atop the counter in their bathroom, Cassian standing between her legs. Nesta knew he needed time to think, to process his emotions before they could discuss. She was the same way. How she longed to speak with him, wished he’d let her in, but still she waited. She waited and she watched as he applied a healing salve and bandage to it as though her life was on the line, emotions turbulent across his face, with lips pursed one moment but not the next, eyebrows furrowed for one instant then smooth, eyes hard and then…well, Nesta couldn’t tell.

That was worrisome.

He finished dressing her wound, his hands resting in her lap, and still they were silent. Cassian could have burned holes through the bandage he was staring at from how angry he was, as though the bandages themselves caused her hurt, wronging her.

Breathing shakily, he let his hands trail gently to her hips up her sides, handling her with the sincerity one might cradle a porcelain doll, halting once he reached her waist. Nesta was expecting him to pick her up, so she leaned forward into his body, but Cassian tensed for a split second before returning what he thought was going to be an embrace.

Nesta could have wept from the gentleness in his movements, as though he was too afraid to breathe. She could feel his heart racing through his leathers, and still he hadn’t dared draw her too close.

In the past, Nesta would have been insulted by his actions. “I’m not a child,” she’d have snapped. “I’m not made of glass, Cassian,” she’d have said.

But over time, she gleaned that some days, he simply needed to hold her, needed her to stay close. She didn’t know why, but she knew that one day, he’d be ready to tell her, and when he was, he would. Eventually, Cassian would be able to tell her there were moments he wasn’t sure if this was real, or if he was living a dream where Nesta was a figment of his imagination. Sometimes he had to remind himself the war was over, not because it hurt him so personally, but because he couldn’t be sure Nesta was really alive, that she had truly made it out, or if his mind had conjured up her memory to keep him sane. There were periods where he couldn’t be sure if he was alive, or if he was in the hell he knew he was destined to go, that in some 300, or 400, or 5,000 years down the line, whatever cruel god traversed the underworld would reveal it all to be a lie, that he and Nesta had never really had that time at all. That the king of Hybern had killed them that day; that the ruler of Hell wanted not only to rip Cassian’s only true joy from him, but give him a sliver of the pain he’d caused thousands through bloodshed and loss over his 500-year lifetime.

Sometimes, Cassian didn’t know if that was the common sense speaking, or the guilt.

Maybe it was both.

Cassian knew he couldn’t go on like that forever, but still he could not say anything. He didn’t know how. Some days he was a bit quieter, a bit more reserved, and, when he’d hold her close, more tightly than usual, his eyes would burn with the need to blink, something he’d refrain from doing for fear he’d give in and she’d be gone, having never been there at all.

Nesta couldn’t take the pain and fear she felt through the bond. He held her there, head tucked into her neck, inhaling her scent, breathing soft whisps of air onto her skin. With his right hand splayed across her back, left hand in her hair keeping her head resting next to his, and her body pressed against him, her beating heart was a tattoo on Cassian’s chest. She was Cassian’s lifeline.

Nesta didn’t know what was wrong, but she felt deep within her soul that Cassian was barely holding on. He was suffocating although there was air, drowning despite not being submerged, dying without any wounds, and no longer could she wait. For this, for Cassian, she’d have to push, no matter how hard it’d hurt either of them.

She reached around, drawing his body even closer to her, and as she tightened her arms a bit more than usual, she felt him release a shaky breath, body relaxing but arms unrelenting.

She didn’t know that with this one action, she convinced Cassian this moment was real.

Nesta turned her head, peppering kisses to his temple until she felt his heart rate slow from its panicked staccato and his erratic breathing calm to the whisper of a baby’s breath. It could have been two minutes or 20 years, and still she would have held him. They had all the time in the world.

Eventually, Nesta drew her hands across his back up to his face, lifting his head. When he looked into her eyes, she leaned forward and kissed him sweetly, slowly, savoring the feeling of home.

“Cassian,” she started. “It’s more than just the mating bond, isn’t it?”

She was jumping right into it, Cassian realized with a jolt. No preamble, no introduction, nothing. His eyes widened and his breath held, the moment between them gone. He couldn’t maintain eye contact, so he stepped back and looked to the doorway.

Wordlessly, Nesta hopped from the counter and interlaced their fingers, leading the way to the den. She opted for their couch instead of the armchair, sitting next to him and released a shiver at the cold feel of the fabric on her skin. Cassian stood immediately and approached the fireplace to their left, a small part of him happy for the delay igniting the fire brought. Even though they had worked through Nesta’s trigger, he was still cautious about monitoring her body language. Trauma wasn’t always consistent, nor did it have to make sense. He knew that well enough.

Fire roaring next to them, Nesta’s body tensed such a minuscule amount that Cassian really shouldn’t have noticed, yet he did. He wanted to put it out, but he knew that’d only upset her. Instead he looked to her, facing the fire with her spine straight and chin lifted, eyes hardened as though she was in a battle of wits with her most formidable enemy.

“Scoot over,” Cassian forced out; he was tense. She did, making more room for him. He sat down and removed his boots, swinging one leg between the couch and Nesta so he could lean back, tugging her body to his chest, his arms around her, hands resting atop hers on her stomach. They lay together, fire going behind them, making the only sound in the room.

Nesta turned so her chest was touching his abdomen, laying the side of her head over his beating heart. She closed her eyes once Cassian’s hands began playing with a lock of the hair she let down once they reached home, reducing her to mush. She almost forgot why they were there.

“Cass,” she started, same as before. “We need to talk about this.”

Cassian’s hands stilled for a few seconds before resuming, going up to her scalp and massaging.

“I know.”

“It’s not just your instincts, is it?” She already knew the answer.

Cassian gulped. “Not always. Not– today. Sometimes it’s– it’s more. It’s worse. A lot of things.”

Nesta waited for him to continue. She was already pushing him as is. He wasn’t used to opening up. Cassian was the friend you went to when you needed advice, and not the other way around.

“You have to understand that my instincts, Nesta, they’re– they’re probably a bit worse than the average mated male’s. There’s the mating bond, but I’m also a warrior. Fighting is in my blood. I am the best living warrior in all of Prythian.” There was no pride in voice, he was simply stating a fact.

“I think that makes it worse. I’m not used to having rein myself in; the only time I’ve ever been even close to snapping is right before a battle, when my instincts are homing in for a fight. Add in the mating bond? Fuck, Nesta, some days I think it’d be better to lock us both in here than have to go outside.” Cassian couldn’t help wincing, but honestly, Nesta was surprised. She’d never thought about it, but it made sense. Fighting was his language, perhaps the one he knew best. To have to fight against it when for over 500 years it was a part of him? He was, perhaps quite literally, fighting a losing battle.

“And I’m working on it, I swear. I’m trying. You deserve better, you deserve someone who can not only treat you right, but protect you while respecting your autonomy, but fuck, Nesta, sometimes it’s just so fucking hard. I can’t fucking stand seeing you get hurt, and I can’t stand seeing the males or females look at you with that interest they’ve developed once they figured out you’d have killed them by now if you wanted to.” He was scowling, and sometime during his admission, his strong hands left her hair and formed fists. His knuckles were turning white.

Nesta couldn’t believe she was mated to a male like Cassian. With Tomas, the only other semi-serious relationship she’d had, he tried taking from her what she wouldn’t give, injuring her in the process until she’d managed to escape. She’d burned the torn dress to forget. Cassian, on the other hand, was killing himself inside to keep from overstepping, even when he felt she was in danger. Truly polar opposites. She was glad.

“Cassian, you’ve been doing well,” she said as she took hold of his hands, undoing the fists. “I know it’s been nearly impossible, but you’ve been doing it. Eventually, it’ll get easier. You’ll get accustomed to it.”

She didn’t understand, not really. “It’s not just– it’s not just that, Sweetheart. It’s the whole past. It’s the fact that I tried keeping you safe multiple times, and multiple times I failed. I failed to keep you from the Cauldron, I failed to keep you safe from the King of Hybern, Hell I almost lost you to Bryaxis. I have constantly failed you, Nesta. And I’m scared that one day, my failures will come to their final fruition and that’ll be it, you’ll be gone. Dead. Because I can’t keep you safe.”

She opened her mouth to speak but paused, feeling his trepidation through the bond. There was more. He hadn’t even gotten to the worst part yet. Instead, she rubbed across his knuckles, back and forth, feeling the ridges of each one, the dips that separated them.

“Sometimes I can’t tell if this is real.”

Nesta’s heart dropped.

“I can’t– I can’t tell if we made it out of the war. I can’t tell if you did, or if you’re a figment of my imagination that everyone goes along with or else the Commander of the Illyrian armies will go insane. They may hate me, but none can deny my skill. They need me.

“Sometimes I wait for the rug to be pulled beneath me, to find out I’m actually dead and that neither of us lived through the war with Hybern. That some cruel being in the Underworld wanted to give me a taste of what could have been before ripping it from me, leaving me mourning memories I never had – memories with you.”

Tears pricked Nesta’s eyes, and at the scent of their salt, Cassian lifted Nesta’s head so her chin was resting on his chest, staring deeply into his eyes. Nesta hadn’t seen so much sorrow in them since that moment on the battlefield before he’d kissed her, ready to die in each other’s arms.

“Sometimes I wait to wake up from what I can only describe as a dream.”

His voice wavered.

“My biggest fear, Nesta, is not that I can’t keep you safe. My biggest fear is that you never made it out alive for me to keep you safe to begin with.”

Finally her tears fell, throat constricted so tight it hurt. She couldn’t speak. Of all the things he could have said, this felt like the worst. It was one thing to fear for her safety, to war with his instincts to protect at whatever cost.

It was another to not know if these instincts were in vain.

“And I– I know it makes no sense. If you were a figment of my imagination, there’s no way everyone would go along with it, to act like you were alive, nor do I think Rhysand or Azriel would let me live my life like that. And it– it feels too real to be a dream. But sometimes I just can’t tell. I can’t tell if it’s a dream, or if it’s Hell. I don’t think the heavens would welcome me.”

Nesta didn’t know if she should be sad or angry. There was a lot to unpack.

“So when you get hurt, and I’m ready to maim and kill, that’s instinct. That’s instinct, that’s love, that’s being a warrior. But back in there, in the bathroom, it was more. It was my failure to protect you. It’s that I always seem to fail, and I wonder if my failure on the battlefield left you dead for a second, more permanent time. The Cauldron killed you once, and sometimes I’m not sure if the King of Hybern then did too. Do you hear what they say about me, Nesta? They think me similar to Enalius. What utter fools. They don’t even realize they insult him by comparing us.”

“Cassian,” Nesta spoke with resolve. Now she really was angry, although her eyes were rimmed with red. “You haven’t failed me, you big oaf.” Cassian frowned at that.

“You did everything you could. You risked your life, your wings to lead the King of Hybern away from me, and you did. It’s not your fault we almost died. You saved me. I would’ve been dead at the hands of Hybern if you hadn’t stepped in.”

He was unconvinced.

“Cassian,” she now whispered imploringly, “you are enough. I love you, and you are worthy.” Her voice rose, symphonious preaching to Cassian or the heavens, he couldn’t tell.

“You deserve peace and love and happiness; you deserve a life where you don’t blame yourself for things that were out of your control. You tried your hardest, and Love I know it hurts but you need to let go.” She grasped his hands tightly as his eyes shone with tears.

“Forgive yourself. Stop regretting the past. There’s nothing you can do to change it. All you can do is enjoy the present and dream about the future.”

She rested her forehead against his, eyes closed as she spoke impassionedly, hands caressing his cheeks. She couldn’t see Cassian’s wide eyes, flooded with childlike wonder at the goddess who knelt before him.

“If you won’t forgive yourself for your sake,” she whispered, “then forgive yourself for mine, because I love you and I want you to be happy. You make me happy, Cassian. After all the Cauldron put me through, it was worth it, because it gave me you. It gave us time that we’d never have without it. We have eternity together, Cassian. I can’t convince you that it’s real, but I ask that even if you think it’s not, you enjoy it.” Though her voice was nearly inaudible, he heard every word, could see the tears threatening to spill from her closed eyes. Their lips grazed as she spoke. She was so close.

“If you can’t yet accept this isn’t a dream, then in the meantime, let it be the best one you’ve ever had. Let yourself enjoy these moments together, because if you don’t, one day you’ll realize all of this is real, and you’ll regret having held yourself back.”

Her eyes opened and immediately narrowed.

“Now what the fuck was that about going to Hell?”

Cassian threw his head back and burst out laughing.

He couldn’t help it; it was so unexpected. One second she was praising him, blessing him with the reassurance he seemed to need more often than not but wouldn’t deign to ask for, and the next she was chastising him.

“Sweetheart,” he began, “you don’t kill the amount I have and get welcomed by the gods with open arms,” he admitted. She rolled her eyes and huffed. Clearly she lacked the patience for his stupidity.

“Cassian, you have a fucking warrior-god. Do you think Enalius is in Hell right now?”

…Cassian supposed not.

“And there are literally death gods. Are they in Hell right now?”

“Sweetheart, no matter what you say in bed, you can’t keep comparing me to gods right now. That’s borderline blasphemous.” The cheeky bastard. Never mind that none of them could be completely sure he wasn’t descended from Enalius after all.

Now she just glared.

Cassian cleared his throat, “Point taken.”

She scowled for a moment longer before her eyes softened.

“I know that we’ve been over this before. That you are enough, you are worthy, but Cassian, you need to tell me when you’re feeling less than. You need to talk to me.” A hand reached up to stroke his cheek again as she straddled him.

“You’ve helped me so much, Cass. I don’t think I’d be here right now if it wasn’t for you.” At this, he flinched. He couldn’t imagine a life without Nesta, couldn’t imagine the pain she’d been through after the war. By the time they mated, she was healthier, happy. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure he could’ve lived if he felt the pain his Nesta had gone through.

But, like a phoenix, she arose from her ashes, silver flames licking her skin, her fingertips, her hair. Over the past few months she spent with him in Illyria, she became one with herself. Cassian didn’t think he knew anyone stronger.

The gods had nothing on Nesta. That, Cassian did know.

“Cass, I’m not going to lie to you, nor do I want you to lie to yourself. You’ve caused people pain, that you know, but neither of us are innocent. Both of us have hurt people, have hurt ourselves. Both of us have been held prisoners of our minds for far too long.”

She had an impossibly gentle aura around her, so at ease.

“All we can do is accept it and promise not to let the bad days win.”

Cassian didn’t think it was possible to love someone so fucking much.

Never daring to break eye contact, he grasped one of her hands in his, interlacing their fingers, while using his other to grab her free one, leaving a soft kiss atop each knuckle.

Then he opened her palm and sucked on the tip of her index finger.

“Cassian!” she admonished, blush flushing to the swell of her breasts.

He could only laugh.

Drawing her in for a kiss, one hand on her waist, the other fisted in her hair, he knew he wasn’t fine yet. Neither of them were, but eventually, they’d get there.

Together.

______________________________________________________________

AAAAAAH I hope you enjoyed!!! I made myself cry while writing this LMAOOOO. I’m excited for part 3!! we’ll finally see what really happens when Cassian can’t hold back...

tag list: @arinbelle @letstakethedawn @queenofbloodshed @thewayshedreamed @bookstantrash @allilal @illyrianshadowhunter @rainbowcheetah512 @skychild29

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #cassian

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novantinuum · 3 years

Link

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1600~

Summary: Lapis genuinely doesn’t know how many hours (Days? Months? Years?) have passed when light finally graces her eyes once again.

Ah, my first Lapis POV fic! This one has been in my drafts for ages- at least a year and a half. Feels nice to finally have it done.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

________

Finally Free

It’s funny, in a way.

She spent thousands of years trapped inside herself, unable to form... hating the Crystal Gems... fearing the endless destructive conquest of the Diamonds... and yet in the end, the first time she falls in a battle she fought willingly she does so fighting alongside those star-bearing rebels, face-to-face with the very Diamond who abandoned her to Earth to be forgotten to begin with.

And now, she’s gone. Trapped inside herself again. It’s equal parts disorienting as it is concerning. After all, Lapis Lazuli cannot see the world beyond. She has no way of knowing if the Crystal Gems lost or won. No way of knowing if she’ll be shattered at any moment. It’s nerve-racking— suffocating! She wants out. She wants to know.

But no matter what she tries, she can’t manage to pull herself out of this formless limbo on demand. She always imagined that the next time she got struck down she’d reform in an instant... pop right back up like the next day’s dawn, ready to slice the waves and swing her fists like she’s never been shaken to her knees in the first place. Apparently not.

Despite her dearest wishes, it would seem the universe has a higher agenda.

Lapis genuinely doesn’t know how many hours (Days? Months? Years?) have passed when light finally graces her eyes once again.

Fittingly, it’s the ocean who greets her first as she hovers midair in the midst of reformation, arms outstretched and coursing with newfound strength as her form fully solidifies. She gently falls to her knees on the sand. With the sun’s energizing warmth kissing the gemstone on her back, she spreads her fingers through the fine granules, her relief at being free from unconsciousness’ cruel prison so palpable and overwhelming that for a moment she’s irrationally terrified she’ll poof again from the intensity of this fierce emotion alone. Her hard-light body remains solid, however. After all, she’s a stubborn Gem. There’s no way she’ll let herself poof as easily as she did this time around ever again.

Coaxing herself to her feet, she makes a clear point of judiciously surveying her surroundings. Her first big clue as to the outcome of the battle is the fact that the Diamond ships still lay broken and motionless in the shallows at the edge of the peninsula. (Not to mention the fact that the Earth is still... well, here.) Directly behind her, she finds a makeshift worktable formed out of a thick board placed over twin stacks of wood, with plenty of human tools scattered across its surface. No one appears to be hanging around Steven’s house right now, but there’s a sizable tarp thrown over the half that Blue’s ship smashed during the battle. That’s good, that insinuates that someone’s alive to begin repairs. Although, wait a minute... Her brow sharply creases as she filters back through recent memory. Wasn’t that ship still leaning against the side of the cliff when she poofed? How’d it get into the water? And how did the arm ship’s thumb get reattached?

Before she can fret about these mysteries further and and risk losing herself to a burst of paranoid panic, she hears her name called from the distance. Attentively, she whirls around, seeking its source.

It’s Peridot, sprinting right towards her across the fine sand as if the rest of this growing, changing world has somehow hurtled to an abrupt stop. But not her. Goodness, never her. She’s always in motion, always manages to be so alive.

And she... she’s changed her outfit. There’s stars everywhere, on her leggings at her knees, in the silhouette formed by the shape of her visor and hair, and plastered proudly right across her chest. Lapis can’t help but give a fond smirk at the sight. It suits her. Now she can finally represent like a true Crystal Gem.

“Lapis!” she exclaims as she crosses the final distance, lands herself face-to-face once more. “You’re finally back!”

For a minuscule moment the green eyes behind that tinted visor glitter with deep affection and relief, and her arms stretch outward as if she intends to envelop her in a tight embrace and never let go, but as oft is the case, the turbulent waves of emotion coursing through this Gem are riddled with more complexity than initial appearances let on. And if there’s one thing Lapis fails to excel at, it’s understanding how to best respond to the nuances of complex emotions. She’s never been much of a people person, even before her capture.

Eventually, the joyful familiarity within Peridot’s expression dims, and— inhaling deep— she steeples her fingers together as if she were an agate merely addressing a subordinate. The tone of her voice becomes bitingly procedural, detached.

(Try as she may, Lapis can’t block the ephemeral ache this new reality elicits at her core as the conversation continues. She clutches at her wrist, shamefully dropping her gaze to the sand.)

“Anyways,” the former Kindergarten technician says evenly, gesturing at the mess littering the beach behind them, “we have a lot of work to do. No time to waste!”

Her brow creases. “But... didn’t we win?”

“We did, yes,” she nods in confirmation. “Bismuth can explain in more depth, but she’s currently on one of the diamond ships. We’re fixing them so we can fly out as backup.”

“Backup? Backup for what?”

Peridot’s cool and collected guise crumples at this query, her hands curling into small fists as she blinks away any lingering evidence of her distress.

“Steven’s in trouble,” she reveals. “We just received a distress message from him yesterday. I’m told he returned to Homeworld with the Diamonds to discuss healing all the corrupted Gems, but...”

“Something went wrong,” she guesses, the shadow of her bangs darkening over her eyes. “They turned on him.”

“Well... we don’t really know what happened. Which is why time is of the essence!” she says with a sudden surge of positive energy, swiftly jabbing her pointer finger in the air. “Follow me, and I’ll show you where we’re working.”

Her old roommate prepares to jog away, towards the other side of the beach where the ships lay in temporary rot and ruin. Time stills in Lapis’ mind, if but for a brief moment, as she watches the sunlight glint at the upper edge of her visor, the refraction producing almost kaleidoscopic patterns in the sand. The choppy rhythm of the ocean, its undulating melody as it washes in and away from shore, uninterrupted... it almost sounds sad. She hums a few bars of a song she wrote back in her solitude, on the moon. And then she realizes, eyes widening... that she never really left that place, did she? In a way, even though she returned to Earth, it’s like she’s still stuck watching everyone from that observation sphere, still barring herself from nurturing her relationships with others out of fear.

Lapis throws her glance out towards the endless horizon, standing tall and erect as the loose pants of her new form billow against her legs in the light breeze. The long-held tension at her core releases. She’s done closing herself off from people. She’s done with feeling trapped and alone. She wants to mend her relationships, not let them erode away.

Which means... she has to at least try to make things right with Peridot. Somehow.

The tide’s pace resumes to its full intensity. At that precise moment, her friend turns on her heels, swiftly preparing to return to their work site.

“Peridot,” she says, quickly stepping forward to catch her shoulder before she can walk off, before she journeys to some distant shore where she can’t follow.

The shorter Gem freezes in place upon the utterance of her name. She doesn’t respond in words initially, lips tightly pursed. Waiting. Hoping.

(Stars, just say it!)

“I... I shouldn’t have run away,” Lapis blurts out, her form growing lighter the second that vocalization crosses the threshold from her guilt-filled subconscious to shining reality. “That was... a huge mistake. And I really wish I could make it up to you, but...” Her scattered focus shifts as she searches for something— anything— to say in further acknowledgement of her regret, eventually landing upon the shattered remnants of wood still strewn across the beach. She sighs sadly, giving her respects. “I’m pretty sure we can both agree that the barn’s a goner.”

Under her hold, Peridot’s once-tense shoulder relaxes. She makes no move to face her, however, still drinking in the no-doubt humbling sight of this planet’s boundless sea

“Well,” she begins slowly. “As long as you work to communicate with your friends whenever you feel overwhelmed in the future, and promise not to kidnap all of my morps into space again, I think we can call it even.”

She places one of her hands atop hers, the action but a small sign of their renewed goodwill.

“In any case, I’m- really glad you’re back,” she says, fondness evident in her tone.

Lapis smiles.

The ocean’s melody is no longer tinged with a companionless melancholy.

It’s funny how things can change.

She spent thousands of years terrified of the consequences of being caught as traitor to the Great Diamond Authority, and now she’s planning to illegally commandeer a diamond ship to fly a rescue mission into the stagnant heart of Homeworld. She’s only been a Crystal Gem for the equivalent of a few minutes, and yet she’s already reformed bolder and braver than ever before.

She feels strong. Despite the inherent danger of their task, she feels an ever-building reassurance, fighting amongst her friends. For the first time ever, she finally feels like someone has her back.

Lapis closes her eyes as she reflects on the culmination of her journey, standing confident alongside her dear friend on the bridge of Blue’s ship.

No more searching. No more running. She’s finally free.

#su #lapis lazuli #peridot #su fanfiction #my writing stuff

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dylan-is-a-frog · 3 years

Text

Drowning | Crosshair

This is specially for @mochiiluna as that gift I owed her. I really hope you like it Lun’ika!!

Now, writing for Crosshair is really difficult for me because within my own perception he is a really complicated character. I’m saying this just for y’all to knowthat I did my best. <3

A word of caution: It contains topics that may be triggers for some people, such as panic attacks and anxiety. Beyond that, there is no major warning.

With all that said. Enjoy!

╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴

Language: English.

Number of words: 1k approx.

╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴

All that noise, that nonstop noise in his head seemed to break his eardrums.

It wasn't his fault, it wasn't yours either. It wasn't anyone's fault.

His body was trying to defend him from a non-existent fear, and no one could blame him. He felt like his ears were about to burst, he couldn't hear anything but anxiety taking over his body.

The entire room was silent, except for his restless fingers scraping off his armor, throwing it with agony and despair against the walls of what was supposed to be the room he shared with Tech.

He didn't want to be with you, but he didn't want to be alone either.

That inconsistency only made him even angrier, forgetting that his lungs were demanding oxygen, forgetting to breathe.

The key for a panic attack was that. You are not really drowning, but the defense mechanism in your body, that quality that is often necessary to survive, makes you think that you are. The fear of not being able to breathe is real, the anguish, the fear of not being able to control your own body.

All of that is real.

The mind is powerful, and it's even dangerous in soldiers with genetic mutations, because every light comes with a shadow.

The doors opened in front of you and that image made you go into a deep panic. His thin body trembling frantically, his face terrified trying to breathe. One of his hands grabbed his own neck as if trying to beg for his body to somehow allow him to breathe. Sitting on the floor, he looked desperate, tears falling from his eyes as they closed, trying to protect himself from the dizziness of looking around, watching all that loneliness that overwhelmed and haunted him.

Hunter warned you that Crosshair, unlike the others, was much more difficult to carry. He would not tell you what he needed, he could not calm down knowing that he needed someone else to do it. No. He wanted his own space.

But, damn it, his lungs were grateful for that little bit of oxygen that the ex-soldier managed to get when the sound of the doors opened his eyes. Seeing you standing there made him feel a little less suffocated. As if in the middle of a storm under the sea, the waters had let him out to get some air before sinking him again.

You were not an angel, you were not his savior. Nor did you expect to be, and because of that you were not surprised that even with his gaze on you, his body closed again before that thundering idea of panic. But no one could deny that Crosshair felt a little less overwhelmed. The dizziness of that lonely room no longer existed, but his eyes fixed on you and your face, which even when not knowing what to do was eating you up inside, reflected that calm and peace he needed. That which he would never dare to ask aloud.

It was a joke of fate that words were not your strong arm. What were you supposed to say to him? What the hell did you say to a person in that state? You chose silence, and Crosshair was grateful, because the noise his own mind generated was more than enough, at least for now.

As if it were a bomb about to explode, you walked slowly towards him, who, hidden in a corner, seemed to be nothing more than a frightened soul, being threatened by his own fear.

You knelt down in front of him, placing the palm of your hand over his own. Sweat ran down his whole body, and that inner battle within him was something beyond your understanding. Confidently and at the same time gently you took his hands in yours, and he felt safe. He was.

Maker, of course he was safe if he was with you. Your touch was his grounding wire. Your eyes were like the lifesaver he needed to get out of that stormy sea, to swim, to get the hell out.

Because Crosshair was sinking nowhere but in his own mind. He was too strong to be overcome by something as vain as panic, as insignificant as an empty room.

Empty. Loneliness. Abyss.

Crosshair hated putting up with other people, but he hated being alone at the same time. Wasn't that funny? Wasn't it a joke of fate that he had fallen hopelessly in love with a girl like you? Who was his complete opposite?

Ah, but he was never going to say that out loud. He could never fall in love, he hated people. He couldn't stand you, and you couldn't stand him.

But there, in the middle of the stormy ocean that was his mind right now, you were the only thing that kept him afloat. Small breaths he managed to take from time to time, while tears of despair began to run down his cheeks, blending with the rhythmic touch of your hands on his. You had never seen him cry like that before. Destroyed, without his inner armor forcing you to stay away from him. Now, more than his hands, you were touching the center of his person and he was giving you permission to do so.

No words, nothing but each other's company. You left his hands and took his face with your fingers, breathing calmly and holding your own desire to cry. You were there, you were helping him, you were not going to leave him.

But Crosshair didn't want words, he wanted to trust you. He wanted to know that in you there was that peace that he needed so much at this time.

Your looks connected and his eyes full of tears were like daggers in your soul, it was as if seeing him suffer burned your whole heart. He had feelings, and they were much more intense than you could ever imagine. The love he felt for you was much deeper than any of his brothers would ever understand, and he knew he could trust his life into your hands.

But you did not know, and you were never going to know because he was never going to tell you. The minutes passed and the stress began to creep up your spine. You wanted to protect him, you wanted to take away all those fears you didn't understand and lock them in a box, throw it away and go on living as if nothing had ever happened. But you couldn't take away something that he had to conquer.

And he did, when his tears of despair began to be tears of weariness and he cuddled up to you, hiding and disarming himself in front of you. And you didn't know what to do.

For some reason the calm invaded your body when he began to cry over you, forcing you to use all your strength so as not to collapse on the ground, since the position in which you were bent over was not the most suitable for supporting Crosshair, which, however thin he might be, he was still bigger than you.

"Everything will be alright," was the first and last thing that came out of your mouth. No questions, no jokes, nothing but the sound of despair and daze leaving his body as tears streamed down his face and wet the clothes on your shoulder.

The lonely, distant soldier was now lying clinging to the one person who had managed to accompany him through such a terrifying mental journey. You knew, at that moment, that he had never allowed another person to see him like that. You understood that this was a facet of the former soldier that no one but his brothers knew.

You also knew that you would never touch the subject again. You didn't ask, no word came out of your mouth, and something told you he would appreciate it. But something had changed. There, both clinging to each other, you allowed little tears of worry to leave your body and both noticed the same thing.

Silence surrounded them and the mental noise dissipated. Each one was holding on to the other in a way that no one would ever understand. As if letting go meant letting go of that foreign sensation that they were struggling to deny in front of the rest of the galaxy.

"Don't go," he muttered as tears continued to stream down his face.

Of course you were not going to leave. Your life was there, in those sarcastic jokes, in those fleeting glances full of denied feelings. He was your life, and you were his. You didn't need to say it out loud, because you both knew it perfectly, but yet you kissed his earlobe gently and you admitted it in a close whisper.

"I wouldn't be able to go anywhere without you."

And you gave him the strength he needed to overcome that turbulent mental ocean that was drowning him. He was safe, he would always be safe if he had you by his side.

#crosshair #the bad batch #crosshair the bad batch #clone wars #star wars imagine #star wars one shot #star wars #clone wars imagine #clone wars one shot #clone force 99

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ficsnroses · 4 years

Text

Friends With Benefits Chapter 8 - Keanu Reeves x Reader

Chapter VIII ~ The Death of Us.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Word Count : 3.7K

Warnings : so much angst omg. nsfw, smut. crying?

Series Summary : What happens when two, lonely friends start seeing each other for sex? A tricky friends with benefits love story, when feelings get in the way.

A/N : Oh gosh. Welcome back, three more chapters after this! let’s get this show wrapped up by June. Feedback is so so greatly appreciated, please do leave comments if ya get a sec :)

Chapter 7 Recap : Keanu and Y/N sort out their argument, and Y/N apologizes for her behaviour. They spend an evening together, and Keanu decides he’ll put his feelings aside to keep Y/N happy; keep their relationship as solely fwb and nothing else. However, after ending up in bed together again, Y/N leaves Keanu’s home in tears late into the evening, unable to bear the reality, that their relationship will perhaps never be more than just sexual.

Being lost; when the mind and heart won’t work in harmony.

You’ll find peace,

Through harmony, they whisper.

The untouched hills and thick ash clouds promise solitude, they become tempting as the streetlights pass, light fading away before shot back up in the next lamppost’s amber glow. Beyond the hills, they cease. The surrounding land falls remote, only whispers of gusty dry wind and occasional howl of the nightly residents breaking amity. A blanket of silence falls the car, the feel of the cold steering wheel riveted in your clammy fingers,

the only tolerable sensation.

Skin frigid, yet your insides burn. A never ending burn- the sensation almost brings you comfort, something strangely familiar as of late; your facial muscles barely twitch, lacklustre formed to the thought of what you’d just run away from. What you’d left behind. Tension, apprehension exaggerated in the lines of his forehead. A faint grimace lingers the planes of your face, heart in agony to the thought of those haunting dusky orbs, drained and spent as he watched you leave.

He has a heart of gold, and you know you’re killing him. He cares for the ones who mean something to him far too much. You’re hurting him. You know it. It felt as if you’d constantly been pushing him, pulling him, never quite finding the balance you craved.

After all, only your weak, mortal shell remains, the breeze filtering in from the slightly cracked passenger window a residual grace to your skin.

Your dreary mind never leaves the passing streetlights. They seem almost as pulses of light, rhythms of transition on your tedious drive home. The light comes back around just when you start to need it most; the piercing glow ignites your way,

fleetingly although.

Even the streetlights end down the road- for down the road, never-ending darkness is all that’s left to perverse.

Keanu. Maybe you and Keanu, would be out of streetlights soon.

How long could this go on anyway? When you started out, the rules were clear. Love hadn’t been factored into the equation, yet here you were. You are in love with the only man you weren’t supposed to be with. And you can run from it; from yourself. But you can't be with him around. Not when your relationship is founded on exactly what lovers do- yet a fallacy, for you.

You’d been looming in silence, for what felt like an absurd eternity. Lost in thought, as if silently quarrelling to yourself that you need to let him go. He doesn’t deserve this; you don’t deserve this.

The sudden sputter of the car engine creaking rumbles, the reverberations of turbulence so dense as the turmoil increases, the worn out tires faltering slow. Gravity sinks its nails in, immediately dragging them down,

slow,

before they stop.

Don’t they say, the one you long for never leaves your mind? Your thoughts are free to roam anywhere, chase any reverie, yet it's surprising how often they head in his direction. His words seem to spring as a song well rehearsed, a melody tuned a thousand times. “You need to get rid of this thing, Y/N.” - the ring of his slight chuckle cursing through your remembrance. “It’s going to break down on you someday.” He’d reason, tone thick on concern.

Ingrained on your mind, a thick groan coarses your lips, wheel clenched in your hand. Slammed on the wheel, your palm stings with pierce, frustration copious in each action, each movement.

Of course, this would happen to you. Stranded, at 11:00pm on an empty LA street, your home still miles away awaits. The towers and mechanics would have bid goodnight a while past, and you didn’t quite know enough people in town to call. Apart from,

the same man you’d just practically run from.

Your jaw clenches and your features fall stoic, left no other choice than to see if Keanu could come by. What would he think? Perhaps pity. Perhaps, disappointment. Feasibly, the infamous “I told you so”. Truth be told, he may have been the last person you wanted to see right now. The last person you wanted to ask for help. Perhaps it was your own personal defence mechanism; your chant to the world, to him, that you’re fine. You don’t need someone, even if that someone was him.

A chilled gust of wind propels through the car window, uncertainty broad on your mind. With your fingers gripping the cold frame of your cellphone, you anticipate his voice on the other end, as if in a race with your own mind. Had you even known what to say? What does one say when they’ve practically left you, without reason, knowing it hurt you? Yet again, the universe proves. Your vanity ends in failure.

You’d sworn a breath had caught in your lungs when you heard his voice on the other end, deep and worn, a drowse apparent. He’d probably tried to get some shut eye after the happening of the eve, and yet again, as always, you’d intruded.

“Y/N?” His voice holds confusion. You swallow a lump, unsure of how to start. “Hey,” Adopting a milder, soft tone than when you’d left. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Are you okay? Something wrong?” He inquires, a ruffle of movement on the other end. Defeated, your cold hand runs through the weary strands of locks on your head, the smell of burnt gasoline impelling the tip of your senses, dense and robust.

Isn’t it funny, how the smell of gasoline is so pleasurable, even though you know it’s bad?

Guilt. Finding pleasure in the wrong place. It’s not good for you. Why must some of the best things not be good for you?

“I’m on 231st. My car gave out on me.”

There’s a slight silence that falls to the line; unsympathetic, hollow, ambiguous. Would he care? What if he’d been upset over how you’d left tonight? What if he’d finally had enough of these abrupt changes of pace? Keanu and you seemed to never get it right, never finding the balance you so desperately wanted.

In a moment, he begins, more ease to your hurtling mind now. “Don’t go anywhere.” He replies. “Stay in your car, lock the doors and keep your phone close by.” The door slams shut on his end, heavy footsteps pacing to the car. “Be safe, okay? I’m on my way.”

Relief washes over, seeing his tall frame and concerned expression trekking towards your car door. He’d been the last person you wanted to call; yet also the first, the only person you wanted to see. There’s always been something so familiar about him, something so comforting, something you can seem to escape.

The evening air is powered with something indefinite, twilight fallen with the first buzz of mosquitos in the distance. The air stood damp and cool, his features a little softer in the darkness that surrounds.

He opens the car door, allowing you to step out, your gaze unknowingly fixed to the pavement below. Relief shone clear and bright on his face, his urge to pull you to his chest; give you the security you deserved right now strong. Yet, he opts for a mellow hand placed to your shoulder, cautious from the events of the evening prior. “You’re okay?” He asks, giving a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah.” You nod. “Thanks for coming, really.” Assuring, your hand waves slight, a gesture of peace. “I know it’s really late and-” swift, his hand raises, waving off your words, considerate. With a nod of his head, he gestures you towards his car, heavy palm reverting to the small of your back now as he guides you, his need to make sure you’re really safe and okay fresh on his mind.

“My place is a lot closer, I’ll take you with me.” He casually throws out, prepared for the argument he knew you’d put up.

“No, it’s alright, really. You know I’m only 15 minutes from here.” You maintain, turning your gaze his way. With a sigh, he starts again, eyes hefty with please.

“Y/N, please.” His eyes clench shut, features tight and dense, breathing in a deep inhale. “I didn’t want you to leave tonight, but you did. And now this…” The street around you was quiet, dim light and distant cars humming made the atmosphere almost far from comfortable. “Please.” He reiterates. Glancing up towards the moonless black, you bite back another weary sigh. Perhaps…

“Okay.” Sucking in a dull breath, you gesture to his car, him following suit as with your enfeeble bones take place in the passenger seat. With his hand firm on the drive, he pulls onto the dark LA road, his house en route, lines on his forehead exaggerated with concern for the woman he loves so dearly, but can’t have.

You’d been acting strange lately, far too distant for his liking. It seemed as if no matter how hard you both tried, you couldn’t find the balance. Couldn’t find whatever it was you needed to save your sinking ship. And it was eating away at him, killing him to know that undeniably, undoubtedly,

you were slipping away.

even if he never really had you.

It had been a tough night, a tough day for both of you. Yet, his mind only wondered what you were feeling. Were you alright? Did you hate him for making you come back? He needed to be let in so desperately, needed to know what was written out to be far too soon. It had been tough for both of you today, yet he only cared about you. You before him, always. With his eyes briefly diverting to you, staring out the car window with an intent gaze, he shifts his hand slowly, gently to rest over yours on your lap.

To say it hurt him when you flinched, so slightly, barely noticeable, would be an understatement.

It shot daggers in him.

Yet, he offers a gentle squeeze when you keep it in place ultimately. “What are you thinking about?” He offers, voice smooth, expression mildly curious as he turns to look at you, filling the silence.

You stay quiet for a moment, gaze never leaving the mountains outside, passing by. That feeling had come back. The feeling of assurance, the feeling of being safe with him. You almost wished your brain would forget how sheltered he made you feel.

It would make all this a lot easier.

“It was raining not long ago.” You speak, voice soft, low. His lips stiff straight in a thin line, minor hum of nod through his breath. Your tone stays quiet, the thought of him heavier on your mind than the sharp LA mountains outside could ever be. “But it stopped.”

“It always stops” He speaks. “Sooner or later.”

His voice had that gentle hum to it, the serene sedative comfort. And then to the thought of it, you stared out the window, and stared, and stared, and stared.

He placed his hands on your soul,

before reaching for your hips; or your lips. And that was what ruined you.

How did you ever let it get this way? How did you ever let it get

this

way.

Late into the eve, you’d found yourself back exactly where gravity seemed to pull you, each time. There, with him, under him while he made love to you; only the love was what was missing, and with Keanu, it seemed it would always be. He isn’t in this relationship, he never was, never will be. It’s just you, alone, hoping, pleading that he’ll see through you; understand what this is not how you want him.

With the only light in the room filtering in from the moon side glow & the LA city night lights, you feel him on top, weight of his body on yours, his arms on either side of you holding the bed as he thrusts. His features are barely defined, yet you make out a thin line of sweat on his forehead; mouth slightly agape, breaths rugged and low. His chest heaves, cock pulsing inside your clenched cunt, the bed frame rocks, hitting the wall with each jerk. He wasn’t touching you in any other way than his member pumping your warm, wet folds, hastily, a controlled pace steady with his rocking hips. His balls slam, hitting your core each time, loud in the quiet room as you whimper quietly, fingernails sunk into the blades of his shoulders,

and with each slam, you feel yourself further and further realizing,

This isn’t working anymore.

This is all you know with him, so this is what you do. And you know you had no right to be upset over it. This is what you signed up for. You did this. You let it get this way.

These aren’t the sounds you want to hear anymore. This isn’t the way you want to feel him anymore. These sounds, these sinful sounds compare none to what you want, what you need.

You wanted it all,

the soft whispers, quiet laughs shared late into the night. The sound of his pure voice when you haven’t heard it for a while, the gentle hum of his throat when he’d tell you he loves you. The simple, mundane life together. A life where he’s a significant part, but in more ways than just this.

Your bodies shudder with pleasure, but you know it’s only a temporary illusion. You see him, and you want to feel him so close, but not this way. This isn’t what you ever wanted, it was never what you really wanted. That night when you first had sex a year ago should have never happen. And it should have never happened again, and again, and again.

You did this to your friendship. And now it’s too far gone for fixing; too far lost to mend.

This isn’t working anymore.

The morning comes, as it always does. Your bones feel as if they ache, tired eyes needing a moment to adjust to the light around, remembering where you were. In Keanu’s bed, yet the spot beside you lays empty, vacant. Finding yourself bare from the waist under, you remember the sex session the night prior, and you’d opted to leave your bottoms on the bedroom floor as he drifted to sleep, beside you.

Was there even anything to hide from him anymore? Nothing he hadn’t seen a hundred times.

With a lift of the heavy duvet, you barely climb out of the mattress, shimmying on the full of your clothes, before heading downstairs. You should be outta here soon, anyway.

The house air smells of dark coffee, the scent of a morning cigarette barely filtering in from the patio backdoors. You’d always hoped he’d quit the nasty habit, take better care of his health where he could.

Cold tiles trace under your feet, a small yawn elicited when you feel your weary bones ache, wanting nothing more than to go home, away from him for now. Seeing him, being around him was proving to be far too hard. There was no running from it now. It was clear as could be, laid out on the table.

You are in love with him. You know it, and you know it shouldn’t be.

But it is. It so fiercely, truly, is.

You find him stood by the window, gazing beyond the backyard foliage, phone propped to his ear as he speaks low, quiet. Making yourself known with a slight cough, your eyes meet as his frame turns, lips curled to a smile your way. His cocoa orbs look dewy in the morning light, cheeks rosy with a slight excitement, something so warm, so inviting.

You’d wish to hold him in your arms, just that way. Keep him that way forever.

Sitting at the kitchen stool, you wait for him to finish on the line, before you’d let him know of your soon departure. Within a few moments, Keanu retires the phone call, moving your way.

“Morning.” He greets, pouring you a roasty cup of a.m. coffee from the burner.

“I’m okay.” You return, shifting in your seat to sit straighter now. “I’m just about heading out actually, an Uber’s on the way.”

Brows furrowed, he speaks. “You just woke up. Stay, I’ll make us breakfast.” With a sip of his earthy dark, he sets his phone down on the granite counter, a lingering smile catching your eye. “I wanted to talk to you about something, actually.”

Your hands find place in your lap, listening to his words. “Oh...okay. Sure. What’s up?” You inquire, unsure, yet slightly hopeful it may be something you so desperately wanted to hear, something you’d frantically hoped he’d let fall off his lips; that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same.

That maybe, you could find the balance, together.

His hand runs through his overgrown, dusty mocha locks, a small chuckle let off. “Okay, I just got off the phone with an acquaintance who deals autos.” Your expression reverts to plain, a pierce of defeat courses through your nerves. “And there’s this brand new model of a great car. You just need to sign the paperwork and it’s yours. I’ll take care of it.” He tells,

and you swore you’d heard a slight hint of sympathy to his tone. Cold, pitiful,

sympathy. Is that what you were now?

“It would cost more to fix the one you have now than it's even worth.” He explains, watching your expression fall. “And I don’t want you having to worry about it, you deserve a break. Really.” He reasons, trying his best to make out the look on your fallen face.

With your eyes set on the counter below, your thoughts scramble, desperate to gather, choke out a response. But nothing comes out. Nothing at all for the first few moments.

“Y/N?” He asks, head tilting in an attempt to meet your lowered gaze. To be met with assertion; affirmation, is not what he’d thought would come, when the wavelengths of your sunken voice allow into the now colder room air.

Headstrong, yet collected, you regret the words he’d said. “Who do you think you are?” You say, voice low, yet assertive. Your hands unknowingly ball into a fist, emotions running high through your veins. “What is this, charity?” Standing now, you push the counter stool away, finally bringing your irate eyes up to his. “I don’t need your charity.”

“Y/N,” He starts, a hushed breath slipping past his lips as he stares wide eyed. You looked destroyed almost, raw, a sight he felt break at him.

“No.” You stop him, hand moving up to block his trek further. “Don’t.” Whispering, your voice breaks, the feel of complete, and utter, defeat gnawing your bones. There was a dull ache of exhaustion nearing your temple, your forehead pulsing, but you’d gotten very good at disregarding it by now.

His features tense, regret seeped. “Y/N, I didn’t mean it like that.” He reasons, attempts at moving your way shunned as you back away now, toward the door. You force your fingers to relax their deadly clench in your balled fist, eyes shut tight as you desperately pray this wasn’t happening.

It was finally happening.

It was inevitable.

“Y/N,” He pleads, fearful that this time,

the rain would abide for good, transpiring a full fledged storm. And it wouldn’t end.

Not now, not ever. It’s all too much, & the friendship, the companionship feels far gone. It’s turned to sympathy.

You turn his way abruptly, locking eyes, voice dipping into something colder as you begin, tears forming in the corner drops of your eyes. “Did you even bother thinking about how this makes me feel? Or did it not matter because you’re ‘Keanu The Great’, fixing the entire world’s problems? And I’m just another hopeless case in the bunch?” You say louder than intended, lip quivering with a shame that felt wounded, the pain of him becoming more unbearable by the second. He watches you, and it's killing him to see you this hurt.

It’s killing him that he did this. Again. He fucked up, again. He feels the sting of tobacco on his tongue from a burned smoke earlier, but doesn’t look away from your eyes; despite the firm voice inside telling him that he should. He watches you, unable to move. Unable to leave.

Unable to do anything at all to make it alright.

“You’re not…a charity case for me, Y/N. How could you ever think-” He barely manages, voice faltering thick in his deep throat, wanting so desperately to reach out and hold you in the comfort of his arms, explain that everything can be okay again.

Yet his words only seem to add fuel to the fire inside you, voice channeling through the house walls as you dispute. “Not a charity case?’ You fathom, jaw tightened as you try your best to uphold assertion, dominance. “We sleep together, for fuck sake!” You almost cry, feeling each and every wall around you,

Crumble. Crumble to shreds.

“Did you not once think how much this would hurt me? How degrading this feels?” you’d tried hard, yet they’d escaped. The tears escaped; and the end was near.

His legs move again, inching near your feeble frame. “I’m so sorry, Y/N, please, hear me out.” He pleads, reaching for the soft skin of your arm, as you retract away, wiping your bleary eyes. “Okay, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.” He begs, backing away for your comfort, his own heart breaking piece by piece for his love in front of him, hurting, and it’s all

his

fault.

“Please don’t cry, Y/N. Im sorry, really.” His weary hand runs through his hair, scared, in fear that he’d hurt your relationship forever, and any attempts at being more. “We’ll talk later, sweetheart. Okay?” He tries, hoping the nickname would bring calm to your rage. Noting Keanu’s expression, your watery eyes stay focused on his, sincerely connected, and you allow your features to soften, adopting a milder, more reasoned tone. With your voice cracking, you speak ultimately into the morning air, the words set solid,

forever.

“No we won’t.” You begin, swallowing the lump in your throat. “This isn’t working anymore.” You croak, the tears burning so bad now, filling your eyes. “We’re over.”

And the words pierce through Keanu, as if the bullet of a thousand guns force. His heart drops, left nothing but a gaping hole of dark to fill the void, and the words black out his overthrown mind, pulsing with an ache.

We’re over,

Before we even started.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

>>Part 9>>

In order for my fics to show up in tags, my taglists will be posted in reblogs from now on. Let me know if you want to be added or removed from either this series, or the permanent! :)

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves smut #keanu reeves fic #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves fluff #keanu reeves series #keanu reeves ff

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hysteriium · 5 years

Text

Can’t Help Falling In Love

(A/N): Okay so I originally made this for one of my bois @jane-may though I extend it to everyone who’s having a tough time! Y’all are strong and I stan you!

Summary: Arthur calms you down during a panic attack.

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x reader.

Word Count: 2465.

Warnings: mentions of anxiety;

////

Anxiety Headcanons:

Incredibly understanding - he’s well acquainted with anxiety and just how bad it can be. So, he knows or at least likes to think he knows, how to help.

While he had to endure a lot of it alone, he doesn’t want you to suffer the same fate - that’s literally the last thing he wants.

His favourite thing to do is try and distract you, to try and get you to focus on your surroundings, as opposed to the actual symptoms themselves; uses the 5-4-3-2-1 technique.

Will tell you to take deep breaths as he seats you somewhere comfortable, either the couch or the bed.

If you weren’t home, he’d promptly pull you aside and pull you into him, whispering soothing things into your ear; a gentle hand would reach up and rest against the back of your head as he did so.

Whether you were having panic attacks, negative thoughts/spirals, or perhaps, the whole shabang, he’d tell you how much he loved you and how proud he was of you for coming as far as you had.

He’s a sap, meaning he’d downright compliment and praise you until his face turned blue (lol). He wouldn’t let you doubt yourself, and if you didn’t believe his reassurances, he would 100% make it his mission to prove it.

Lots and lots of kisses. Hands, cheeks, your forehead - you name it.

Arthur is BIG on affection. He really loves hugs, and he feels as though a really long one could solve any problem.

Literally hates seeing you sad and stressed, so he’ll tell you one of his jokes from his journal. Anything to distract you.

Sometimes he does panic when you have a particularly bad attack. It isn’t because he’s overwhelmed, it’s more so him freaking out about how his tactics aren’t working - about how he’s unable to assist. He’d pretty much feel helpless. Like stated earlier, he really hates seeing you so distressed.

Regardless, he sticks by you for however long you need. He wouldn’t dream of leaving you in the middle of an attack.

One of his favourite things to do when he sees you stressing is to play with your hair or trace soothing patterns into your skin.

After the attack - HE WILL DANCE WITH YOU.

SORRY, THIS IS NOT OPTIONAL.

This bad boi will pull you into his arms and start swaying with you to some funky jazz tunes whether you like it or not.

Will not stop until he’s seen you laugh, or, at the very least, smile.

////

Today had definitely not been your day. While you had been on edge for most of it, feeling the sinister itch of anxiety in the back of your mind, you tried your hardest to work through it; to get on with your day. Some part of you, faded along with the negative thoughts - a gut feeling - knew, however. Knew that the crucial question wasn’t if you were going to have a panic attack - it was when. In all cases, it felt inevitable.

Rain pelted the window - Gotham’s signature song as you found yourself alone in Arthur’s apartment. He’d left a little bit ago, promising to only be a moment as he mumbled something about groceries.

In the space of what had probably been an hour since Arthur’s departure, your theory had been correct. Like the opportunistic beast it was, your anxiety had decided it was the perfect time to flare up. The telltale signs - ragged breathing, the hammering of your heart which matched the booming of thunder, upon the multitudinous concoction of other symptoms created the perfect storm; much like the one outside.

As the seconds passed and the poor weather continued its total pandemonium, your neurotic state worsened. The last straw was when your chest started to close up, constricting as if you had been sat on; about to be crushed. Familiar were the knots in your stomach, twisting and turning.

In one cataclysmically exhausting whirlwind of thoughts, one that virtually took all your energy to keep at bay, you felt the jitters in your leg and the compulsive fidgeting which followed behind, manifest. In the dim lighting of the room, you curled up into the sofa’s side, trying to remember what you had been taught for times precisely like these. How you were meant to breathe, use your logic, even if you were, for the most part, stripped of it. To try and focus on other things, repeat the mantras that you had once found calming. You conjured the reassuring voice of your lover, remembering Arthur’s soothing words and how he worked you through prior attacks.

Yet still, you couldn’t breathe.

Perhaps luck had been shining down on you in that moment. You certainly felt so when you heard ruckus behind the front door. The key scraped against the lock, a recurring phenomenon which was then followed by a soft curse, leading to Arthur’s eventual success as he stumbled inside.

“I’m ba-”

Arthur froze when he saw your cowering form.

He pushed the door closed with his foot, knowing immediately what was happening and abruptly dropped the bag of groceries onto the floor with a thud. Without stopping, he hurried over.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” his voice sweetly requested as a hand gently moved your face to look down at him.

In his crouched position his leg was tucked underneath him while his other rested against the couch’s foundations. Arthur’s thumb started to rub soothing circles into your flesh once his hands fell to yours, immediately snapping to your action plan.

“Tell me five things you can see.”

Nodding, you obeyed. The mere euphony of his utterance already had you calming, a tender warmth which began to thaw out anxiety’s glaciers. After your eyes darted across the room, you listed the first things you could see.

“I-I” You swallowed as you tried to get a grapple on your wobbling vocals, “I see the curtains.”

“Tell me about them.”

“They’re hideous,” You replied, prompting a laugh from your lover. The delicate creases around his eyes - laughter lines - had been enough to momentarily halt your disquietude, a short-lived delight replacing it.

“What else?”

“An-and I see Murray.”

You moved to point towards the tv in front of you. Arthur moved aside when your wobbly arm extended. A small smile graced his features when he drank in the man dancing along to the intro, perfectly in time with the sporadic notes of the live band.

No matter how much he loved the show however, he loved you more. This was evident in the way he quickly turned back to you, a silent signal to continue; to reduce your apprehensive state. While the twitching of your fingers was yet to pause, their ache to squirm overbearing, you were sure Arthur picked up on the way your breathing had started to regulate.

“Um, the” your eyes darted to the floor, your toes wiggling against the fluffy feeling of the synthetic fibres, “the carpet...”

Moving your foot slightly, you watched as the action revealed a sinister blob. You weren’t entirely sure how it got there, even Arthur was confused when you had casually brought it up. Arthur must’ve followed your gaze because you both spoke at the same time.

“And its stupid stain-”

“The stain.”

You breathed through your nostrils in a subtle amusement as his lips upturned; relishing in fact he knew you so well. You hadn’t been kind to that rug, not even in its debut, and you knew he felt as though he was more likely to witness hell freeze over before he’d witness you display a shred of warmth towards the piece.

Once more, your eyes bounced around the room to find another object. Placed delicately against the closed window, you noticed small green stems protruding from a red brick coloured pot.

“The plant we’ve somehow managed to keep alive.”

An arrangement of white rings wrapped around each extension, the mere sight of the potted plant brought on a deep fondness - reminiscence with a tone of yellow; of sunshine and fresh air. You and Arthur had somehow ended up buying a zebra succulent. It was an impulsive decision, one that had almost led to its unfortunate death an embarrassing number of times.

From overwatering to all too friendly bursts of wind threatening to topple the plant, to forgetting to water it entirely, the succulent that had been named ‘Victory’ for its unlikely survival. Most certainly a hero to all succulents out there, the flora continued to trudge on, despite life having tested it. In some strange way, the plant had binded the ends of your relationship together, strengthening it with a flame - prevented it fraying.

“Victory…” Arthur furrowed his brows, “Tory.”

“Tory,” you repeated, smiling.

“One more left,” he squeezed your hand.

Your eyes remained on him, flickering over his dishevelled appearance. You had only managed to notice his state then, with the heavy burden of worry elevated. His hair was wet, soaking really, and his clothes were just as much. It was a miracle he wasn’t shivering.

“You’re all wet.”

His brows upturned at your laughter, his own amusement following behind. He mumbled something about managing to keep undercover for the most part, and the imagery of him trying to do so was something you found adorably amusing.

You had somehow forgotten about the turbulence of the weather, and when you were so rudely reminded with a clap, you jumped. It had caught you off guard, and the sound was so loud it shook the window frame. Whether that was just the shitty Gotham apartment you found yourself in, or if it had hit the building you weren’t sure.

Arthur perked up when he saw you jump at the thunder, his lips instinctively pressing against the soft skin of your hand, leaving a warm tingle.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, “you’re doing so well.”

“Now tell me, what can you touch?”

“Your hands…” you gave them a quick squeeze before pulling away, his arms moving to rest against his knee while yours moved to your sides.

“The couch.”

Arthur nodded at your words, his bright blue eyes reflecting encouragement.

“My hair,” you said, twirling a strand with your trembling hands.

“Your hair” you laughed again when they dove into his wet locks. Arthur scrunched up his nose and shut his eyes with a smile. Then, he shook his head against your hand. The goofy action sprayed gentle droplets of water on your skin, making you giggle in surprise.

His hands interlocked with yours once more.

“What can you hear?”

“Rain...cars.”

“Gotham never sleeps,” Arthur quipped.

By then, your breathing had completely righted itself, a lot of your symptoms had dissipated, and you were starting to find yourself more grounded in the moment. Thoughts no longer raced. Hot and cold flushes no longer gripped you. You had started to feel some semblance of control.

“Smell?”

“Vanilla - the candle I lit earlier...your...your cologne.”

The scents tickled your nose, the latter smell, Arthur’s cologne, a particularly welcoming scent. You mentioned often enough how much you liked it, and it was apparent it was no coincidence that he started wearing more of it.

“And finally, what can you taste?”

“Strawberry lip balm,” your nose wrinkled as you focused on the strange flavour.

Arthur gave you a funny look, one that challenged your disgust.

“Trust me, it’s not as good as it sounds.”

“Let me check,” a cheeky grin befell your lover.

You responded by playfully pushing his shoulder. In seconds, he had shot up from the ground, hands latching onto your forearms, pulling you up with him. A surprised gasp left your mouth, though it hardly wiped off Arthur’s evident joy. With a certain finesse, the man twirled you into him, his lips finding yourself sweetly. They moved against yours, a simple, yet mind-numbing act; an act in which completely transformed the last of your nerves into dazzling butterflies.

When Arthur eventually pulled away, his stunning eyes searched yours for any traces of your panic.

“You’re right, it’s not as good as it sounds,” he said, urging you to jokingly roll your eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better now,” you giggled, brushing your nose against his.

The smile was still yet to leave him when he gradually pulled away, arms leaving your waist, “wait here.”

You watched him skip to his record player - a beautiful antique thing. It was a delicate and cherished object, one adored by the man who was about to place a record into it. As the circular frame was hidden from your perspective, you were forced to wait, rendering the song a complete and utter mystery. His skilful movements eventually produced a scratch, and then, a song.

It was a song you instantly recognised.

Wise men say only fools rush in

The realisation made you giggle while his twirling form made his way towards you.

But I can’t help falling in love with you

Shall I stay?

You watched his shoulders sway with the tune, and the way his feet moved oh so gracefully - better than you could ever hope to coordinate.

Would it be a sin?

If I can’t help falling in love with you?

Then, suddenly, he was in front of you, hovering over you while an inviting hand extended. When you wordlessly accepted, you were suddenly in his arms again.

Like a river flows surely to the sea

Darling so it goes

Some things are meant to be

His guiding hands found your waist, encouraging their soft sways. As music filled the apartment, your worries melted away. No longer conscious of the storm outside, which had yet to halt. No, you were transported into your own personal bliss, your head resting fondly on Arthur’s shoulder. Anxiety was no more than a distant memory, no longer gripping you in an iron chokehold; it had evanesced entirely.

Take my hand, take my whole life too

For I can’t help falling in love with you

Before you knew it, the song neared its end, and Arthur’s frame had pulled away to glance at you.

“For I can’t help falling in love with you,” he sang adoringly, finishing the lyrics with a lightness. His eyes then flickered towards your lips.

Not missing a beat, you softly captured his in another kiss. Tilting your head to deepen the affection, your arms crossed behind his neck. Your giddiness went straight to your head, leaving you dizzy, while the swirls of infatuation bubbled from deep within.

When you finally pulled away, his head rested against your forehead. Nothing else mattered in that moment - not even Arthur’s drenched clothes. All that mattered was the way you felt in his arms.

Just him.

#arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck #arthur fleck imagine #arthur fleck headcanon #anxiety headcanon #joker x reader #joaquin phoenix joker #joker 2019 #joker imagine #the joker x reader #joker headcannons #fanfiction #my writing #dc x reader #batman villains x reader

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trashytummiez · 3 years

Text

Professor Sickly

@squidbiscuit drew an amazing Professor Kukui feeling nauseous and burpy. So you know that means I have to write something for it. ;3

Kukui had a pretty strong stomach. Even before they were married, Burnett was always awestruck at how much her dark skinned husband could eat through. But Kukui was also a man of varying tastes, and sometimes that meant eating new things that didn’t always agree with him.

He was sitting weakly up on their couch. His usual friendly and confident smile was replaced with a sickly, groggy frown. Kukui’s labcoat, hat and shades were gone. He just sat there shirtless and huffing nauseously with his hand over his mouth and salivating a little more heavily than usual. Next to him was a bin just in case.

Kukui’s stomach was gurgling oppressively. It was a loud and really acid-heavy gurgle that made him cringe when it rumbled forth. He wrapped an arm around his middle and slumped forward with his hand over his mouth nervously, as if he was willing himself not to puke.

“Ungh, ohh god...”

“Poor baby,” Burnett said sympathetically when she arrived and rested the side of her hand against Kukui’s forehead. His half-naked body was visibly sweaty. He certainly felt warmer than usual, but not feverishly so. “Had to have been something you ate earlier. Where’d you go?”

Kukui held a finger up to pause the conversation and pushed his fist against his lips with a miserable look on his face. There was a loud gurgle erupting from his stomach, which made him cringe even harder. He grabbed the bin and brought it to his mouth. Kukui spat a few times into the bin but otherwise, nothing came up his throat except for a bit of drool.

He blew off to the side. His breath was warmer and tasted grosser than usual. He tried sniffing to get a clue of was causing him so much intestinal distress but it told him nothing except that he could probably use a mint right now. “I don’t remember what I ate. I just know that it probably tasted a lot better going down than it will coming up...”

Kukui was a bit of a glutton. Burnett decided a while ago that whenever he got himself sick from eating too much that he’d have to ride it out since it was his own fault. But Kukui’s stomach was flat. It stuck out a little because of his nausea but this time, Kukui didn’t pig out the way he always did.

Besides, usually when Kukui ate too much and was whining in bed, Burnett would think it was more funny than anything else. Seeing him sick and suffering wasn’t fun at all.

So this time, she took pity on her goodnatured husband.

She sat down on the couch next to him and started rubbing his aching, churning belly.

Kukui sighed softly and leaned back a little as if leaning into his wife’s magic touch. He huffed shakily while Burnett rubbed his churning stomach in soft circles. Nausea came in waves. He would occasionally bring a fist to his mouth and puff out his cheeks. Kukui looked like he needed to burp really badly, but there was this look of uncertainty in his eyes. He was trying to softly release the pressure in tiny intervals because he was scared if he didn’t, he’d puke right there on the spot.

Burnett continued taking care of Kukui’s tummy. She gently pushed her fingers into his soft warm flesh, stroking the area around his belly button especially, from that smooth patch of flesh above it down to the area where his happy trail would’ve been if he had an ounce of hair on his tanned stomach. Kukui took in deep breaths that made his stomach expand a little until he exhaled the air.

“And you wonder why I’m not as eager to always ‘try new things’,” Burnett teased while she stroked her husbands aching belly.

Kukui managed a weak smirk and lightly nudged his wife in the arm, trying not to move too much and upset his stomach even more. “...Can’t eat spicy curry forever...”

“Watch me,” she responded and continued to run her palm gently across the surface of his smooth, soft stomach, making sure not to press down too hard. Kukui’s stomach was usually a little firmer. After all, there was a reason he always rocked around bare chested most days, he was in great shape. But the distress within his gut caused some mild bloat, softening his stomach to the touch and making it feel more delicate than usual. Meaning she had to be extra careful with it while she rubbed.

She felt her husbands stomach quiver inside as it churned and tightened itself into knots that made Kukui recoil in a sickly manner. She shushed the poor young professor and massaged his tummy with her whole palm, rubbing it like she always did when they cuddled at night. It was a familiar feeling to him that always brought Kukui comfort.

He was still sweat heavily and looked like he was one wrong movement away from puking intensely, but the tummy rubs certainly helped him ease up just a little bit. And apparently, the gut rubs were doing something because it loosened his twisted stomach up. Enough for Kukui to actually muffle a pretty deep burp into his fist. He blew away from his wife and groaned a little.

That gave Burnett an idea.

She got up from the couch and headed back to the kitchen. There she grabbed a large cup and poured some ginger ale into it. Kukui kept his fist hovering around his mouth, his cheeks puffing again as he blew out nauseously. By the time Burnett arrived, another gas bubble worked its way up and this time Kukui couldn’t hold it in.

oooooOOOOOOOORRRRRP!!!

Kukui let go a deep burp into his fist that got a little louder at the end. Burnett smirked when she returned and teasingly said, “Heh, charming.”

“Ungh, sorry, huh...” the sickly professor muttered, still looking plenty green.

But Burnett simply leaned over and felt his sweaty forehead again with the back of her hand and said, “Don’t be. Sounds like your tummy really needed it.” Which was why she handed her husband that ginger ale cup she was holding. “Drink this. It should help get some gas out and settle your tummy a little bit.”

Kukui’s face soured. He really didn’t want to put anything else in his stomach when it was churning so painfully. But one look at his wife’s assuring smile and he was in. He took the cup and looked down into it, seeing the bubbles rise and pop endlessly. No doubt, the inside of that cup wasn’t dissimilar to what was going on in his belly right now.

Burnett sat down and rubbed Kukui’s stomach some more as he proceeded to drink the soda. He closed his eyes tightly as the bubbly liquid poured down his throat with some tentatively big gulps. Kukui looked miserable when he drank, but he went along with it. Already his stomach was becoming a little more reactive with the introduction of all that carbonation pouring into his gut.

A ways into the cup, he pulled it away from his mouth and exhaled in a strained sort of way. He slumped forward a little bit and it felt like a wave splashed inside of his belly. Then Kukui burped. And it was a big one too.

BwruuuUH-OOOOOOOUUUUUUUURRRP!!!!!

Kukui’s eyes widened as he tried to hold a hand around his mouth while that big eruption rolled out of him. Burnett’s hand was still rested against Kukui’s belly. She could literally feel that one rumble out of her husband.

“Wow, that was...louder than I thought it was gonna be,” Burnett said, surprised but a little amused. “Feel better at least?”

Kukui clenched his eyes shut and held a finger up. Then he hit his bare chest a few times to work another grizzly burp out of his throat, followed by a weaker one after. He exhaled heavily and slumped forward a little.

“Oooohhh god,” he groaned weakly, but sighed in a way that sounded relieved after. He rubbed his face with exhaustion and said, “I’m sorry for being so gross, hun, but...whew...”

Burnett simply smiled and very gently patted his belly. “That just means it’s working. Don’t worry about being gross or not. Just drink up.”

Kukui wasn’t one to disagree after the hint of genuine relief he felt so he drank some more ginger ale. With that big gas bubble out of his belly, he downed his drink a little faster while Burnett continued rubbing his belly to help circulate the excess air inside. The more Kukui drank, the more she could feel his stomach get just a little bit bigger from all the carbonation filling him up.

After getting the rest of the soda down, Kukui set the cup aside and almost instantly burped so hard that Burnett almost thought the couch was rattling. Kukui gasped, it almost took his breath away. He leaned forward a little, grasping at his knees when he burped again. Kukui burped really deeply after that, as in there was a lot of rumble to it, like the ones that came directly from his chest.

Burnett climbed up and sat directly behind Kukui since he was slumping so far away from the cushion of the couch. She leaned right up against his back and wrapped her arms around his waist until both of her hands were squarely planted against his turbulent stomach. “Good boy. Get it all out,” she insisted, digging the tips of her fingers just a little firmly into his belly.

In response, her husband let rip a really raunchy burp, one that sounded especially guttural and caused him to drool a little, which ended in a weaker burp. But then she squeezed a little against his stomach and he proceeded to tense up momentarily before a huge, gassy burp exploded from his very depths.

BRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUPH!!!!!!!!

That one had to be a record. It was so incredibly loud and stretched on for a few seconds straight. Burnett could feel Kukui’s entire body reverberate with that one.

Kukui slouched almost lifelessly and sighed heavenly with desperately needed relief. “Haaah...oh my god, that...that’s so much better...” he said, comfortably patting his belly with relief. It was still gurgling but it wasn’t nearly as aggressive as it was moments ago.

“I think this is the part when you say ‘excuse me’,” Burnett joked.

Kukui only burped in response, which to his credit, got a good laugh out of his wife.

#kukui #professor kukui #pokemon #burnett #emeto #nausea #burping #belly rub #indigestion #stomachache #comfort

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sharekowa · 3 years

Text

Kankandara

When I was in Elementary School I was a naive hick, and fucked around with my buddies A and B a lot. We had a turbulent life.

A and I’s families had given up on us, but B’s mother was always taking care of him.

She was super strict about it, but she still did a lot of stuff for B.

B and his mother had a bad fight sometime in Middle School grade 3. He didn’t tell us what it was about, but apparently he hurt his mother psychologically.

After leaving his mother in ruins, his pops came back.

B’s pops immediately understood what had happened and went up to his wife, ignoring B.

Her clothes and hair were in tatters, and she was spacing out, staring at the floor with eyes like a dead fish. B’s pops looked at her and spoke to B.

B’s Dad: “You little shit, you became the kind of guy who could trample all over someone this much, huh? Why can’t you understand how much your mother cares about you?”

He was holding his wife, and was not looking at B at all.

B: “Shut the fuck up. Should I kill you, motherfucker? Huh!?”

B had no intent of listening to his pops.

But his pops didn’t react to this threat, and apparently kept talking calmly.

B’s Dad: “...You...you think there isn’t anything that can scare you, don’t you?”

B: “Nope. If there is, I’d fuckin’ like to see it!”

His pops was quiet for a bit, and then spoke.

B’s Dad: “You are my son. I know very well how much your mother worries about you. But if you can only hurt her in response, I have an idea.

I speak not as a father, but as a human, a third party.

I’ll be upfront, I only tell you this because you have proven you don’t care if you die. If that’s fine, listen to what I have to say.”

B apparently felt an intense energy from these words, but provoked him anyway saying “Whatever, fucking tell me!”

B’s Dad: “You know that place in the forest that is restricted? Go in there, all the way to the back. You’ll understand the rest when you’re there. Try going crazy like you did just now, if you can.”

The forest B’s pops was talking about is at the base of a small mountain where we live. It’s kind of like a sea of trees (jukai).

You can enter the mountain normally, and the forest as a whole is normal, but if you go in, there’s an area that is restricted partway through.

Specifically, it’s like if you drew a small circle inside a square, and were told not to go in the circle. It’s basically a super small part of the forest.

The restricted area is surrounded by a fence around 2 meters high, with thick chain links and barbed wire. The whole fence is tangled with layered white paper (like a unique shide), with a ton of bells of varying sizes attached.

Shide (paper used to designate sacred areas in Shinto)

It’s so weird that it’s just a small part of the forest. The fence itself is strange. Basically, I can sum it up as being extremely weird.

Also, on specific days, I’ve seen priestesses gathered around the entrance, but I didn’t know what they were doing because those days the whole area would be restricted.

There were lots of rumors flying around, but the most common one was that there was a brainwashing facility for a cult. It’s a pain in the ass to even get there, so I barely heard of people even going that deep into the forest.

B’s pops didn’t wait for B to reply, and took his wife upstairs to the second floor. B immediately left his house and met up with me and A who were waiting for him. That’s when we heard about what his dad told him.

A: “A father saying that much to his son? Must have been bad.”

Me: “It’s rumored to be a cult facility right? I guess he’s telling you to get caught and brainwashed. You could say that’s scary but...what are you gonna do? Are you gonna go?“

B: “Of course I’m gonna go. It’s probably bullshit.“

Me and A tagged along out of curiosity, so all three of us were going to head there.

We used different tools. I think the time was past 1:00 midnight. We arrived with high spirits, entering the forest and shining the ground before us with the flashlights we had brought.

The path is one you can hike with light equipment. We always wore jikatabi so it was easy for us to walk, but there was almost a 40 minute walk to get to the area in question. However, before even 5 minutes had passed since we entered the forest, something weird happened.

Jikatabi shoes

Around the same time as we got in and started walking, we could hear a sound coming from far away.

The still of the night emphasizes the sound. B was the first to notice it.

B: “Hey, you guys hear something?”

We strained our ears upon these words, and yep, we could hear it.

We definitely could hear it faintly from far away: the sound of dry leaves being dragged, and the sound of branches being snapped.

Since it was from a distance and so faint, we weren’t really scared.

We didn’t think it was a person -- there’s gotta be animals around here. Reassured, we kept going.

I stopped paying attention to it after thinking it was an animal, but after around 20 minutes of walking, B noticed something again and stopped me and A.

B: “A, can you walk ahead a little bit?”

A: “What? Why?”

B: “Just do it, dude.”

A, looking confused, walked ahead and then came back to us.

Seeing this, B developed a thoughtful expression.

A: “Hey, what is it?!”

Me: “Yeah, explain!”

After we said this, B said “Stay quiet and listen veeeery carefully,” and walked ahead like he had made A do, and came back.

After he did this 2 or 3 times, we finally realized what was happening.

The faint, distant sounds were moving when we did.

When we start walking, the sound starts walking, and when we stop the sound stops too.

It was almost as if it knew what we were doing. I couldn’t help but feel a bit colder. There is no light aside from what we have. The moon is out, but it was almost entirely blocked by the trees.

We have our flashlights on, so it’s not strange that whatever it is knows where we are. But we have to squint to even see each other even though we are walking together.

What are they doing with no light on in this darkness? Why are they moving the same way we were?

B: “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Is someone following us?”

A: “It doesn’t feel like someone’s getting closer. It sounds like they’ve been at the same distance from us as earlier.”

As A said, for the 20 minutes we had been in the forest, the distance between us and the sound hadn’t changed at all.

It wasn’t coming closer or going further. It had maintained the same distance the whole time.

Me: “Are we being watched?”

A: “Seems like it...If it’s a cult or something, then they probably have weird devices and stuff.“

Judging from the sound, it wasn’t multiple people, but just one person following us the whole time.

We stopped to think a while, and decided it was dangerous to try to figure out the source of the sound. Being careful of our surroundings, we decided to keep going.

As we kept going, the sound stuck to us, but I couldn’t care less about a damn sound when we finally were able to see the fence.

...Because the appearance of the fence was even weirder than the sound.

It was the first time seeing it for all three of us, but it exceeded our imaginations.

At the same time, a thought that hadn’t crossed my mind before suddenly occurred to me.

I am a skeptic about ghosts, but even I couldn’t help but think that there is something unreal beyond that fence.

Not just anything either, but something extremely fucked.

Wait, so it’s a place with that kind of legend...?

For the first time since we came into the forest, I started to think we were in a dangerous place.

A: “Are you telling me we have to rip this and go in? No matter how you look at it, this ain’t normal!“

B: “Shut the fuck up man, don’t be pissing yourself over some shit like this!“

B yelled at me and A, who were scared upon seeing the weird fence. B used the tools he had brought and started to destroy it.

The sound of the insane amount of bells ringing was louder than the sound of him tearing it down.

But since we hadn’t imagined it would be like this, the tools we brought were too weak. Or rather, the fence was unnaturally strong. It didn’t even move an inch, so I wondered if it was made with special materials.

In the end, we had to climb it, but because of the chain link that was pretty easy.

But as soon as we got off the fence, I felt strongly that something was wrong.

I guess it was maybe claustrophobia? I felt short of breath, like I was trapped in a coffin.

A and B seemed to be feeling the same, and we all hesitated before moving more. We had already gone past the fence, though, we couldn’t stop now.

As soon as we stepped forward to keep going, all three of us realized something.

The sound that had followed us all this time had stopped as soon as we crossed the fence.

To be honest, it was so freaky that I couldn’t care less, but I was even more freaked out by what A said next.

A: “Hey guys...what if...they were in here the whole time? This fence, at least from here, has no gate...maybe that’s why they couldn’t come closer...?”

B: “Nah, no fuckin’ way man. The place where we first noticed the sound moving can’t even be seen from here. There’s no way they would know what we were doing from the moment we got into the forest.“

In normal circumstances, B would be right. The restricted zone and the entrance to the forest are pretty far part.

I wrote that it’s around a 40 minutes’ walk earlier, but we weren’t walking slowly and the distance itself is pretty long.

But as soon as the thought crossed my mind that it might not be something from reality, I couldn’t deny A’s words.

Unlike me and A who had felt a definite danger since we first saw the fence, B was suddenly very determined.

B: “I don’t know if it’s a spirit or what, but if it’s like you said, doesn’t that mean it can’t leave this fenced area? it’s not much of a big deal then.“

Saying this, we went deeper.

The fence of the opposite side of the restricted area was starting to come into view. We found something strange after we walked 20-30 minutes after crossing the fence.

6 trees were surrounded by a shimenawa, and those 6 trees were enclosed by 6 ropes, making a hexagonal space.

Shimenawa, which are used to designate sacred places in Shinto.

There was official-looking shide, unlike the ones on the fence.

And in the center was something like a money-offering box from a shrine.

As soon as we saw it, all three of us were speechless. Me and A were starting to panic - things were really getting dangerous.

As dumb as we are, we vaguely know where and for what shimenawa are used.

The reason why this area is restricted must be what we are seeing.

We had finally arrived at our destination.

Me: “This has gotta be what your pops was telling you about.“

A: “You can’t go wild here, man. It’s obviously a bad idea.“

But B didn’t lose his determination.

B: “It doesn’t necessarily mean it’s something bad. Let’s try checking out that box! Maybe there’s treasure inside.“

B ducked under the ropes, entering the hexagon and approaching the box.

Me and A were more worried about what B might do than the box, but followed him anyway.

The box was covered in rust, perhaps because it was left outside and got rained on.

The upper part is a lid, with mesh so you can see inside, but there’s a plank under the lid so you actually can’t see anything.

The box also had something wild written on it in chalk. Probably family crests or something, but each side of the box has multiple symbols and they are all different. No two were the same.

Me and A tried our best not to touch it, but B didn’t care and touched it. We cautioned him to be gentle as he investigated the box.

It seemed to be anchored directly into the ground, so even though it wasn’t that heavy, it couldn’t be lifted.

After examining the box closely to try to see how to open it, B realized that the just the back side comes off.

B: “Yo, just this part comes off! We can see inside!”

B removed one side of the box, and me and A peered inside from behind B.

Inside the box, there were four plastic water-bottle shaped jars, with some kind of liquid inside. In the center of the box, toothpick-like sticks around 5 centimeters long with their tips painted red were arranged in a weird shape. ／＼／＼＞

This kinda shape, made of 6 sticks. Just the four places touching are painted red.

Me: “What the hell is that? Toothpicks?”

A: “Yo, the water-bottle things have stuff inside. Gross.“

B: “We came all this way for some water bottles and toothpicks? I don’t get it.“

Me and A had just lightly touched the water-bottle shaped jars, but B took one of them in his hands and started to smell its contents and stuff. Once he put it back, he reached out to touch the ／＼／＼＞.

The toothpick stuck to his fingertip for a second, maybe because he was sweating, and the shape was messed up when he let go.

That moment...

Ring rring! Ring ring!!

The bells were ringing with incredible force from the opposite direction from where we had come -- beyond the hexagon, around where I could barely make out the fence.

At this we all screamed “Aaah!”, scared shitless. We all looked at each other at once.

B: “Who is it, goddamit!? Don’t fuck with me!”

B started running in the direction of the sound.

Me: “Dumbass, don’t go there!”

A: “Yo B! It’s dangerous!“

As we readied ourselves to scramble after him, B stopped in his tracks. He was motionless, with his flashlight still facing in front of him.

“What, are you fucking with us?” As me and A sighed in relief and rushed towards him, B’s body started to tremble.

“H...hey...What’s wrong...?”

As I said this, we both instinctively looked towards where B’s flashlight shone.

B’s flashlight shone around the roots of one of the many trees huddled together.

From its rear, a woman’s face was peering our way.

Showing just half of her face, she seemed to be unbothered by the bright light and was gazing at us.

She was grimacing, showing all of her teeth, and her eyes were hostile.

“AAAAAARGH!!!!!”

I’m not sure who screamed, but at that moment we turned back and ran.

My mind went blank. It felt like my body was making the best decisions it could.

With no time to even look at each other, each of us scrambled desperately towards the fence. As soon as I saw the fence, I jumped it with all my might and climbed it with force. When I got to the top, I jumped off and tried to immediately run for the exit.

A, perhaps confused, is having trouble climbing the fence and isn’t coming.

Me: “A! Hurry up!!”

B: “Yo! Hurry the fuck up!!“

Me and B didn’t know what to do while we waited for A.

Me: “What is that thing!? What the hell is it!?”

B: “I don’t fucking know man, shut up!“

We were completely in panic mode.

Just then...

Rring! Ring ring!

The bells shook deafeningly loud, and the fence started to shake.

What the... Where is it coming from!?

Even as me and B panicked, we checked our surroundings.

It was coming from the opposite of the entrance: from the direction of the mountain. The sound and the shaking of the fence got more and more intense as if it was coming closer.

Me: “Oh shit, oh shit!”

B: “You still haven’t climbed yet!? Hurry up!!”

I knew our words were only confusing A more, but there was no way we couldn’t warn him. A scrambled up the fence with immense concentration.

The moment A was about to reach the top of the fence, me and B were not watching.

I was shaking violently, sweat pouring out all over my body, unable to make a sound.

A noticed and looked at where we were looking.

The thing was on this side of the fence continuing towards the mountain.

I had thought it was just a face, but it was actually a naked torso with six arms.

Using those arms it grabbed the chain link and barbed wire skillfully, its mouth still in a wide grimace. It was coming towards us like a spider crossing its web. Immense fear filled me.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!”

A suddenly jumped from above, crashing onto me and B.

This woke us out of our stupor, and we got A up immediately and booked it for the entrance to the forest.

We can’t look back. I just looked forward and ran and ran with all my strength.

It shouldn’t have taken 30 minutes running at full speed, but it felt like I had run for hours.

As the entrance came into view, I could see people in the distance.

No way...all three of us screeched to a halt, quietly checking out the silhouettes.

We couldn’t tell who it was, but it was multiple people. It wasn’t the thing.

As soon as we confirmed this we started running again, and ran right into the group.

”Hey! They came out!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me...They actually went past the fence!?”

“Heeey! Run and let the wife know!”

The gathered people ran to us, abuzz.

All three of our minds were blank and we were so spaced out that we couldn’t immediately understand what they were saying to us.

Then we were put in a car, and even though it was around 3:00, we were taken to a gathering hall that is used for events.

When we got inside, my mother and big sister, A’s pops, and B’s mother were there.

B’s mother aside, my mother who I hadn’t even had a decent conversation with was crying. A told me later that his pops’ facial expression was one he had never seen before.

B’s mom: “Everyone was okay...! I’m so relieved...!“

Unlike B’s mother, I was hit by my mother and A was hit by his pops. But, we both received kind words unlike any we had heard before. After each of us had spoken to our families, B’s mother came to talk to us.

B’s Mom: “I am very sorry. This is my husband’s fault, and by extension also my fault. I am truly so sorry...! Really...”

She bowed many times.

Even though she’s from another family, a parent acting like that in front of her child was an unpleasant feeling.

A’s Dad: “That’s enough. Everyone was okay, see?“

My Mom: “Yes, exactly. It’s not your fault.”

After this, most of the conversation was between the parents, and we were just spacing out.

Probably because it was late at night, and it felt like a wrap after everyone checked in on each other. At this point, we didn’t get any explanation and went our separate ways home.

Around noon the proceeding day, my big sis violently woke me up.

When I opened my eyes, her face was so tensed that it seemed like a continuation of last night.

Me: “What the fuck is your problem?”

Big sis: “B’s mother called. Shit’s going down.“

When I took the phone and answered, B’s mom was yelling in a way I had never heard her do before.

B’s mom: “B...B is acting strange! What did you do last night, up there !? I thought all you did was go past the fence!?”

It seemed like I wouldn’t be able to have a conversation with her, so I hung up and headed to B’s house.

A had apparently got a similar phone call, and both of us went to talk to B’s mother. Apparently, after B came home last night, he suddenly started screaming that all of his hands and feet hurt. He collapsed with his arms and legs outstretched, maybe because he couldn’t move due to the pain. She told us that he stayed in that pose and thrashed around complaining of pain. Whenever his mother tried to do something to help, all he did was yell “It fuckin’ hurts” and they couldn’t understand each other. She tried her best and was able to carry him to his room, but since he was still in that condition, she wondered how we were doing and had called us.

After hearing this story we immediately went to B’s room, and could hear him screaming all the way from the stairs.

”It hurts, it fuckin’ hurts!” on repeat.

When we got in the room, as expected his arms and legs were outstretched and he was flailing around.

Me: “Hey! What happened!?”

A: “Pull it together, man! What is wrong with you?”

Even when we talked to him, B just yells “It fuckin’ hurts” and didn’t even make eye contact with us.

What’s going on...? Me and A couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

We went back to B’s mother for the moment, and she asked us with a tone strikingly more quiet than earlier.

B’s mom: “Tell me what you did there. That will tell me everything I need to know. Last night, what did you do there?“

I of course knew what she wanted to ask, but I couldn’t answer well because I loathed having to remember what had happened in order to tell her.

Or rather, the fact that I saw that thing was so dominant in my memory that I had completely forgotten to think about what was the cause of it all. B’s mother clarified, asking us “Not what you saw, but what did you do?” She seemed to be indicating it.

After B’s mother told us this, we tried our damnedest to remember last night and search for a possible cause.

If the question is “What did we see?” then we should have been in the same condition as B currently is.

But even if the question is “What did you do?” We took basically the same actions towards that thing.

We touched the box too. We also technically touched the water bottle-shaped things. The only thing left is...the toothpicks....

Both of us realized. It’s the toothpicks. Only B had touched those, and he even moved their shape. He also didn’t put them back. We communicated this to B’s mother.

Then, her expression began to change and she started to shake.

She suddenly took out some paper from a drawer and dialed a phone number while looking at it. Me and A could only look on.

After she spoke to someone on the phone for a while, B’s mother came back to us and spoke with a shaking voice.

B’s mom: “If you boys take the approach of going over to their house, they can see you immediately, so go on home and get ready right now. I will speak to your parents for you, they will prepare you even if you don’t tell them anything. Come here again the day after tomorrow.“

I couldn’t understand what she was saying. We were gonna meet who, where? She ignored us when we asked for an explanation and sent us home immediately.

We both went straight home, confused and doubtful, and were told “You have to go there” without asking us any questions.

Two days later me and A went with B’s mother to a certain location, still completely in the dark on what was going on.

Apparently B was taken there the previous day.

I had thought it might be someplace far, but it was not only a different city, but a different prefecture. We rode the Shinkansen trains for a few hours, and then drove from the station for a few more. We were taken into a picturesque village in the depths of the mountains. We were shown to a mansion on the outskirts of the village. It was old and huge, and even had a separate building and storage house. It was impressive.

When B’s mother rang the doorbell, a middle aged dude and a girl came to greet us.

The middle aged dude looked Yakuza-esque, kind of scary-looking and wore a suit. The girl was a little older than us, wearing white traditional Japanese clothes and a red hakama. Basically, she wsa dressed as a shrine maiden.

As they greeted us, we found out that the middle aged dude was the girl’s uncle. He had a pretty common surname, but the shrine maiden girl had a confusing name that sounded like “aoikanjo” (this is how I heard it, at least).

Though I said they greeted us, it was apparently different from common understandings of a greeting.

I don’t really get it, but basically her family’s true identity is something we are not allowed to know.

In truth, neither of us knew anything about her or her family, but for here to make things easier I’ll call her Aoi.

We were taken to a huge ass traditional Japanese style parlor with tatami floors, and they started talking to us in a super serious tone before I could even understand what was happening.

Uncle: “Your son is currently resting. These kids are the kids who were with him?”

B’s mom: “Yes. It seems like these three went to that place.”

Uncle: “I see. You, can you tell us what happened? Where did you go, what did you do, what did you see, as detailed as possible. Can you do it?” I was surprised at him suddenly asking us a question, but me and A were able to soomehow tell the middle aged dude the events of that night.

However, around the part of the toothpicks, he suddenly said “Hey, what the fuck did you just say?” in a very deep and serious tone. We couldn’t understand what was happening and got even more confused.

A: “Y...yes?“

Uncle: “You motherfuckers, you’re not telling me you moved those things!?“

He yelled at us with such energy that I thought he might grab me. Aoi stopped and started to talk in a voice so quiet and weak it was like a mosquito’s cry.

Aoi: “In the center of the box...small stick-like objects should have been placed in a certain shape. Did you touch them? By touching them, did you change the shape even a little bit?“

Me: “Ah, um...we moved them. I think the shape changed too.”

Aoi: “Do you happen to recall who changed the shape that the toothpicks were in? Not who touched it, but who changed the shape.“

Me and A looked at each other, and told her it was B.

Seeing this, the middle aged dude sat back and sighed, and said to B’s mother: Uncle: “Mother, I’m terribly sorry, but I don’t think your son can be helped. I hadn’t heard in this much detail, but if it’s his symptoms another cause might be possible. I didn’t think he’d had moved the sticks.”

B’s mom: “No..this can’t be...”

She probably had more to say, but B’s mother looked away as if she was swallowing her words.

We couldn’t say it, but we felt the same way too. What does it mean that B can’t be helped? What is he talking about?

Even though I wanted to inquire this, my voice wouldn’t come. Seeing the three of us like this, the middle aged dude started talking, sighing along the way. Finally, we were told something about what we had seen.

Its common name is Narijara or Naridara, but in older times it was called Kankanjara or Kankandara. Apparently there’s a lot of names for it depending on the person’s age or familial background.

Currently, the most common name for it is just “Dara”. Special families like the dude’s call it the Kankandara. It’s a story close to myths or legends.

The villagers of a certain village were plagued by a giant man-eating snake. They requested its removal from a shrine maiden’s family who had hereditary various powers as the children of kami. The family accepted the task and sent a particularly powerful shrine maiden to defeat the giant snake.

The shrine maiden earnestly fought the giant snake, as villagers watched from their hiding places. However, the snake got her in a passing moment and ate the bottom half of her body.

Even then, the shrine maiden used various powers to protect the villagers and fought the giant snake with all her might.

However, the villagers saw that she’d lost half her body and decided she would never win. They proposed to the giant snake that they would like the safety of their village in exchange for the shrine maiden’s life, as a human sacrifice. The giant snake was annoyed by how powerful the shrine maiden was, so it accepted. It made the villagers cut off her arms so she was easier to eat, and consumed the shrine maiden who had become like a Daruma. With this, the villagers got a short period of peace.

Later, it becomes clear that someone from the shrine maiden’s house had came up with this plan. At this time, there were 6 people in her family. The changes occurred suddenly.

The giant snake suddenly disappeared, and people started dying one by one in a village that was supposed to not have any more enemies.

They died in the village, in the mountains, in the forest. Everyone who died was missing either their right or left arm.

18 people died, including the 6 members of the shrine maiden’s family.

There were 4 people who survived.

The middle aged dude and Aoi explained it to us in turns.

Uncle: “I don’t know where or when this story’s from, but that box has been moved locations periodically and appeased ritually.

The person managing it changes each time. There’s a bunch of house crest-like symbols on the box, right? Those are the houses that have contributed places for the appeasing until now.

There’s a gathering of people from families like ours who oversee it, and that’s where it’s decided. There are occasionally idiots who volunteer, though.

Anything about the Kankandara is not shared with people who aren’t in charge of it. Locals are just told it has some negative history attached to it, and the managing people give locals someone to contact in case something happens.”

When we tell people, the contacts, people from families like us, are there, so people understand just from that the nature of the negative history. The current contact isn’t us, but since it’s an emergency we were contacted yesterday.“

Apparently, B’s mother had called somewhere else the day before yesterday, and whoever she talked to took B here and entrusted him to these guys after talking.

B’s mother had already called there while we were in the forest, and had heard some of the details.

Aoi: “Usually, the Kankandara is moved among mountain or forest locations. I think you saw it, but the 6 trees and 6 ropes represent the villagers, the 6 sticks the shrine maiden’s family, and the 4 jars in the corners represent the 4 survivors.

The shape that the 6 sticks create is that of the shrine maiden.

Why this is how it is dealt with, or even just how the box is set up, from when...including my family, I do not think anyone currently knows any more than what legends say.”

However, the most commonly told theory is that the 4 who survived researched all about how to calm an angered spirit at the shrine maiden’s house, and created a unique format as a result.

The bells on the fence were the only part following the formula, and the chain link and such were put by the current manager.

Uncle: “There are a few people from my family who have exorcised the Kankandara in the past, but all of them died within 2, 3 years. Just suddenly, out of the blue.

The person who caused it almost always doesn’t make it out either. That’s how hard it is.“

Even after hearing all of this, us three were still completely behind. All I could do was just sit there blankly.

However, the situation changed again.

Uncle: “Mother, I think you have an idea of what a dangerous thing the Kankandara is. I said it before, but if he had just not moved the sticks he would have been fine. But I think this time, there’s nothing we can do.“

B’s mom: “Please, is there anything you can do? It’s my fault, I beg of you, please.”

B’s mother didn’t back down.

It wasn’t her fault no matter how you looked at, but she made it her responsibility and lowered her head, asking over and over. She wasn’t crying though, she looked like she had made up her mind somehow.

Uncle: “We also want to do something. But if he moved the sticks and saw that thing...

You guys saw it too, right? You saw the shrine maiden who was eaten by the giant snake. You saw her bottom half, right? And you understood the meaning of that shape?“

”...What?”

Me and A couldn’t understand his words. Bottom half? I thought we only saw her upper half.

A: “Um...lower half? I did see her upper half, but...”

Haring this, the dude and Aoi were visibly surprised.

Uncle: “Hey hey hey, what are you saying? You moved that stick, right? Then you should have seen her bottom half.”

Aoi: “The woman who appeared in front of you didn’t have the bottom half of her body? Then, how many arms did she have?“

A and I checked with each other and answered: “She had 6 arms. 3 on each side, but no bottom half of her body.”

Hearing this, the man leaned forward again, putting the pressure on us and getting real close.

Uncle: “You’re sure? You definitely didn’t see the lower half of her body?“

Me: “Y...yes...“

The man turned to B’s mother again and smiled, saying:

“Mother, we might be able to do something for your son.“

At this, B’s mother and us all held our breaths and paid attention. The man and Aoi explained what he had meant.

Aoi: “There are 2 actions that can cause the priestess to become enraged with you.

What you cannot do is change that shape that represents the priestess. What you cannot see is the priestess who is depicted by that shape.”

Uncle: “In truth, moving the sticks means you’re done for, because that means you have to see her. But somehow, for some reason, you guys didn’t see it. It should be visible to everyone, not just the person who moved the shape, so if you guys haven’t seen it, then B must not have either.“

Me: “What do you mean, we didn’t see it? What we saw...” Aoi: “Of course, it still was the priestess herself. However, it wasn’t the kankandara. She must not have had an intent to take your lives. She appeared not as a kankandara but as a priestess, so that night must have been her having fun.” The priestess and kankandara are the same, but also different, apparently.

Uncle: “If the kankandara didn’t show up, then the thing attacking that kid must be doing it for fun, like Aoi said. If you leave it to us, we will probably be able to do something about it in the long term.“

I felt like the tenseness in the air had suddenly dissipated for the first time.

It was enough to just know that B could be saved, and B’s mother’s face at this time was incredible. It was a smile that showed how much she had worried for B over the past few days and how that anxiety had suddenly got off her shoulders. The man and Aoi saw her reaction and the atmosphere became more relaxed, and suddenly they started acting like normal people.

Uncle: “We’ll take that kid in officially. Mom, we’ll explain things later. You two should be purified/exorcised by Aoi and then go home. Try not to be too reckless from now on.“

After this we talked a little bit about stuff related to B. His mom stayed and we got purified and went home.

I don’t know what they did since their family had a tradition where we couldn’t meet B. I don’t know if he was treated as having switched schools or was still in the school system, but I haven’t seen him since then. Apparently he hasn’t died or anything; he completely recovered and is living normally somewhere.

By the way, B’s father never showed his face once throughout the whole ordeal. I don’t know what he is thinking.

Me and A calmed down pretty fast.

There were a lot of reasons, but the biggest was B’s mother’s appearance. There’s a bit of an epilogue. Things were probably the hardest for her.

I felt like I was forced to think about what being a mother is like. And after this, both my and A’s parents started to interact with us bit by bit.

All of this combined, and we stopped doing dumb shit naturally.

In terms of other stuff we were able to figure out, the priestesses who convened on specific days were from the families who gave us advice.

Even though the Kankandara was already seen as dangerous, it is considered something close to kami. A giant snake was the kami of the mountains or the forest, so once a year they dance sacred kagura and offer norito prayers.

Also, we heard sounds after we went into the forest because the Kankandara is basically like, kept in a cage. The hexagon and box thing are like seals for it, so if we hadn’t moved the sticks or changed the hexagon, it would’n’t have shown itself. The place where it is appeased is decided by specific numbers defining the area within a limited part of the mountain and forest. Generally, it can’t leave that area, but if it’s surrounded by a fence, then it can crawl around on the outside of the fence like we saw.

This is all we found out. Apparently it’s been moved from where we live. I don’t ever want to go back there again so I haven’t checked, but after almost a year passed from what happened, people came to remove the fence, so it’s probably somewhere else now.

#creepypasta #horror #spooky #scary #japanese

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kiranatrix · 4 years

Text

Beholder’s Eye

Pairing: L/Light; Rating: M

For @lawlightweek Day 2: Sweetness/Bitterness

Light gasped as he was suddenly yanked awake, snatched to the wrong side of a pleasant dream. He was hauled from bed in the pitch-black dark, and for a moment he thought he still was dreaming-- until he felt the cold but familiar snap of metal around his wrists. “Wha---hey! What’s going on?!”

What little his eyes were slowly adjusting to see was snuffed out when a blindfold was hastily tied around his head, and a voice he didn’t recognize rasped, “Come quietly.”

Light stiffened as a strong grip wrapped around his arm to guide him from the room. He balked and nearly started screaming for help, but the grip tightened and moved him forward as he weighed what to do. He’d been restrained and making a fuss might anger his captor, enough to do him harm. He inwardly panicked since he was alone here, no one to hear him if he did scream, no one to help him if he fought back. The security cameras...surely they’ll pick up what’s going on and someone will come.

He stumbled down the hall, counting his paces until he was maneuvered into an area he wasn’t familiar with, a room he’d never been inside if he’d kept track of the directions and distance correctly. “Where are we going?” When he received no answer, Light swallowed and said louder, “My boyfriend is extremely rich. If you’re after money--”

“Keep quiet, Kira.”

Light nearly choked, but he kept his cool, saying with a steel undertone, “I don’t know who you are, but you have the wrong man.” They stopped walking and Light was turned around in place, and he felt his cuffs being secured to something behind him. “Talk to me! What do you want?!” He knew he still must be in his house, but then even he hadn’t seen all of it; L had so many private places. His tilted towards the sounds of footsteps, trying to train his ears and follow the movement of his captor

The blindfold came off but Light immediately wished for its return; he could hardly believe what he was seeing. He was standing on a scaffold in an enormous darkened room, a noose dangling only inches in front of his face, and a stranger dressed as a Japanese policeman was standing in front of him. “W-wait...what’s going on….” His wide eyes darted from the policeman’s stoic expression to the lights slowly becoming brighter over a crowd of people surrounding the scaffold, and when he finally looked down, he saw he was standing over a trap door.

“You have one chance, Yagami Light, to confess to being Kira and to save your life.” The policeman stepped forward and placed a hand on the rope.

Light yanked against the cuffs as anger flared within him. “Confess?! Are you joking??!!!” This wasn’t justice-- it wasn’t even a proper trial! And he’d been so, so careful and how did they--wait. He stilled his rage to focus on his surroundings, feeling in his gut that something wasn’t right here. The crowd was too quiet, the wooden scaffold didn’t creak beneath his feet, and why in the world would there be a hanging conducted in his own house? He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth before calling out, “You can turn it off, L.” He grumbled quieter, “Bastard,” opening his eyes to see the scene in front of him flicker and disappear. The only person left where the audience had once stood was L, smiling in that infuriating way.

“What gave it away?” L’s smile widened as he stepped closer, wide unblinking eyes never straying from Light’s face. “I admit it wasn’t a perfect illusion, but I thought it would fool you longer than that, especially being half-asleep.” He motioned to Light, standing there in nothing but thin pajama pants.

Light could have rattled off the numerous small details he’d noticed, and was about to, but L closed the gap too quickly, kissing him hard and deep and swallowing his angry words. He was flushed when he finally pulled back, momentarily too thrilled to have L’s touch returned to remember he should be irate. L had been gone for nearly a month on a case and it had been agonizing how much Light had missed him. He was too proud to say so now, handcuffed and tricked and half-naked. He turned his face and huffed, “Care to explain yourself?”

“Happy anniversary.” L hummed in his deep voice, kissing along Light’s jawline and up to his ear to whisper, “You didn’t think I’d forgotten, did you? I came back early and wanted to surprise you.”

Light wanted to yell, kick L away from him and hurl insults, but those lips against his skin made his heart quicken for another reason. Drily, “Consider me surprised.” He turned to glare at L, his mussed hair falling in his face. “Couldn’t you have just woken me up with breakfast in bed or something?” He glanced around the room, finally able to see it as the lights gradually went up. “And what in the hell is this? Some virtual reality setup? Holograms?”

“Correct.” L wrapped his arms around Light’s waist, reaching back to touch the handcuffs but not release them. “I had it installed as a prototype for a virtual interrogation room, but...it has some other applications too.” His hand slipped into the back of Light’s pajamas and squeezed warm flesh. “Clearly I need to perfect it a little more before putting it to serious use. I’d like you to help me with that.”

Light let out a low hiss at L’s kneading hand, his anger mingling with arousal as those deft fingers trailed fire over his skin. “It’s got to be 3 in the morning, L. All I want to do is for you to let me out of here so I can go back to bed. That or kick your ass for tricking me.”

“Mmmm. Is Kira angry with me?” L couldn’t hide the breathy, hopeful note in his voice. He’d wanted to make Light just a little angry, enough so he could draw out the fire that he’d craved, holed up in hotel rooms alone. “You know I’d never let anyone harm you.” He leaned to kiss and lick at Light’s neck, pressing his body against the still-restrained man. He said softly, “I have security measures to keep you perfectly safe.”

Light shuddered under L’s touch, breath quickening. “Safe from everyone but you. My own boyfriend.”

“You don’t want a normal relationship, Light, don’t lie.” L’s hand moved around to the front of Light’s pants and squeezed, and he smiled to feel that Light was already half-hard. “It’s the game that keeps you interested. Keeps it fun.”

Light made a soft noise in the back of his throat, eyes going unfocused as he pressed into L’s hand. “Your mind games are particularly nasty this time, though.” It had become something of a tradition, a sporadic routine where one of them would stump or try to fool the other, harkening back to their original cat-and-mouse game, long since resolved and pinned to Higuchi. L had gracefully exited the case and when Kira had appeared on the world stage again after a 6-month period of inactivity, Light had long been cleared and L had disappeared into the ether. Taking Light with him. L protected and aided him but still, that visceral fear of discovery would prick him from time to time and he could only ever let L see it. Perhaps that’s why this prank cut slightly deeper, the emotional betrayal of targeting his times of vulnerability to L. “A mock execution? Really?”

“If you hadn’t caught on nearly immediately I would have stopped it.” L pulled back and pressed a kiss to Light’s pouting lips, softening his words. “Hmm, perhaps I went too far. But I know you can’t stay mad at me.” He lowered to a crouch, mouthing against the thin fabric covering Light’s hips and crotch. “I know how to make you forgive me.”

“If you think…” Light sucked in a breath as he met L’s wide, dark eyes and his pajama pants were pulled to the floor. “If you think you can just suck me off and I’ll---aaaaahh……” Whatever he was going to say was lost in a loud moan when L gripped his hips and engulfed him, only making him angrier that L was proving the point.

L bobbed a few times and pulled his mouth back with a wet pop, grinning up at Light’s incredulous expression in satisfaction. “Does that mean you want me to stop?” He stood up and slouched over to a screen in the corner, tapping at it.

“What?! No, get back here! I mean--!” Light yanked against the handcuffs and cursed under his breath. He wanted nothing more than L’s mouth on him right now, but he still felt like he should be angry and not giving L what he wanted. “Let me out of these, c’mon. It’s not funny anymore.”

The room suddenly flickered again and the holograms shimmered in front of him, forming what appeared in every way to be a rocky cliff above the expansive, turbulent ocean below. He knew this place-- it was on the coast of Cornwall in England, a place L had taken him very soon after the Kira case had come to a ‘close.’ L told me he loved me in this very spot.

“Holy shit…” Unlike the prior illusion, this one felt real in every way. The wind that blew across Light’s skin smelled of the sea, and he could hear the sounds of the waves crashing below, the gulls calling over his head. Hell, he could feel the sunlight on his skin warming him when the setting sun broke through clouds dotting the late afternoon sky. Quietly, “This is incredible…”

L smiled and walked back to Light, appearing to travel along the edge of the cliff as he moved behind to unfasten the handcuffs. Each footstep sounded like crushed grass and gravel, the shadows playing realistically off L’s body. “Now are you still mad at me? I made that execution scene shoddy on purpose, but I made this one perfect for you.” The handcuffs fell away and were tossed into the holographic ‘grass,’ being swallowed by the illusion. He took Light’s hand and kissed it, bringing it to his pale cheek. “I don’t want you to get bored of me, Light.” It was his own moment of rare vulnerability, and only Light could ever see it. To everyone else, to the world, holographic but immaculate armor covered them both. But to each other, they were naked, their real and sometimes ugly selves.

Light’s hand slid up L’s cheek and into his hair, and he slowly moved closer until they were nearly nose to nose. “I could never get bored of you.” He pulled L’s fly open, pushing his jeans down thin hips. “You don’t have to rearrange reality to amuse me, L.” He laughed quietly as L kicked the rest of his clothes away and they stood there naked together on the cliff, just as they had in real life four years ago. “You’re my fantasy.”

L sighed and moved to his knees again, his hand caressing skin that was perfect on its own and his. This cliff had been an altar and it would be again, to their mistakes and their salvation, to the trick of the world that Kira would scatter new photons over and remake as he saw it. L would be the laser and the killswitch, the tongue that tasted bitter but delicious pleasure as Light stared at the sunset and smiled.

#death note #lawlightweek2020 #day 2: sweetness/bitterness #my writing #lawlight #light yagami #l lawliet #rated M #it's a little spicy #but p mild on that front #fanfiction #not all is as it appears...

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rosethornewrites · 4 years

Text

Fic: this body yet survives, ch. 3

Relationship: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén, Lán Qǐrén, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, Jiāng Yànlí

Additional Tags: No War AU, Recovery, Trauma, Dissociation, Courtship, Courting Rituals

Summary: Lan Wangji and Wei Ying go to Caiyi, but have an unexpected encounter.

Notes: See end

Parts 1 & 2

Chapter 1 | 2

AO3 link

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

Wangji soaked in Wei Ying’s good cheer, how he flitted around the mountain path on the way to Caiyi to examine anything that caught his eye. He had to discourage him from capturing another rabbit for the herd in Cloud Recesses; after all, they would have to go back if he was successful, and they had not yet reached their destination.

“On the way home, then,” Wei Ying said, his grin as wide as those during his days as a student, and Wangji’s heart clenched in joy to see it.

Caiyi was bustling, the fishermen hawking the morning catch, and Wei Ying held back a little at the chaos of it, staying closer to Wangji, reminding him that he was still fragile, still easily overwhelmed. This was the first trip to town since he had truly started to heal, after all.

Wangji had a mental map of the town and the places he wished to take him, purchases he wished to make; a gaun, scented oil for his hair, spicy foods—whatever Wei Ying wanted, he would have—and the personal additions to the betrothal gifts he would present to the Jiang siblings.

As hesitant as he seemed to enter the crowd, Wei Ying was also fascinated by the fish hawking, curious about the tubs of live catch. He stopped to watch a turtle for a bit, fascinated by the markings on the top of its neck that resembled eyes. It was a colorful specimen, with a dark brown shell and distinctive markings.

“Do you want it?” Wangji asked softly.

Wei Ying smiled at him, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Where would I put it? The Cold Spring? Your uncle would kick me out.”

Wangji frowned, troubled that Wei Ying still thought, even jokingly, he would be discarded so easily, that his place was so tenuous. He had to remind himself that shufu and xiongzhang would clarify that today, that he would soon realize the Cloud Recesses was his home.

“There is a small pond outside the jingshi,” he offered.

“‘Pets are forbidden,’ Lan Zhan. You don’t need more creatures to take care of.”

He wondered if they were speaking of the turtle anymore.

“Not a pet,” Wangji clarified. “It is a wild thing, and could live to old age there, protected.”

As he hoped Wei Ying himself would in the jingshi with him—not as a caged creature, but as his beloved, loved as he deserved.

Wei Ying was quiet for a moment, watching the turtle, but finally nodded.

“Let’s rescue it, then,” he murmured, his voice rough. “So it won’t end up someone’s dinner tonight.”

Turtles, after all, were symbols of longevity, power, and tenacity. In some ways, they represented what Wei Ying had endured and survived. He had endured so much, had defeated the water he had been left in to die. Turtles were seen as powerful bringers of luck and serenity, both things Wei Ying could use. Perhaps this encounter, their purchase of it, was auspicious.

He stayed close as Wangji purchased it and smiled more sincerely when he handed him a covered basket with the turtle secured inside.

“We will release it in the pond when we return home,” he told him softly, mentally adding the bookseller to his list of places to go so they could find a book on turtles.

They wandered toward the market, Wei Ying moving carefully so as not to jostle the turtle. The bookseller was first, and they perused the shelves together, quickly finding a suitable book.

Wangji noticed Wei Ying’s eyes lingering on a book of poetry and pulled it from the shelf, curious. It was a collection of the poems of Ruan Ji and Ji Kang, two notable sages in a time of turbulent wars, and rumored lovers. He could see the blush on Wei Ying’s face, and felt his own ears heat as he recalled that one of the two had written homoerotic poetry; he wondered if this volume contained them.

He bought both books, slipping them in his qiankun pouch. They could read them together.

At the stall with scented oils for hair, Wei Ying seemed lost at the number of options, and looked to Wangji for help.

“You can try smaller amounts of different ones until you find one you like,” Wangji said softly, “but this might fit you.”

He had the vendor mix a small sample of orange and cinnamon for Wei Ying to smell and was pleased to see the scents seemed to relax him. Wangji was happy to purchase it.

Wei Ying, he knew, often let his hair go, not taking care of it. He would take charge of it personally, he decided, perhaps enlisting Jiang Yanli’s help while they were courting, when it would be a bit inappropriate for him to do so.

Wangji noticed a stall of colorful candies and stopped to buy Wei Ying tanghulu. This seller, he knew, removed the hawthorn seeds and replaced them with red bean paste before glazing them with sugar.

He took a bite when Wei Ying offered, enjoying the sweet and tart mixtures, the crunch followed by the meatiness of the hawthorn and the soft cream of the bean paste. Wei Ying happily munched on the rest on the way to the next stall.

Before they reach it, Wei Ying froze, the mostly-eaten tanghulu falling from his fingers to the ground. Wangji followed his gaze and found Jin Zixuan at a nearby stall, along with Madam Jin—who, he recalled, was the sworn sister of Madam Yu.

Wangji could hear Wei Ying’s breath, how it had started to speed up, and recognized he was in the beginning of a panic attack. He turned to face him, moving Wei Ying so he could still see her in his peripheral vision—he already knew she was there, and could panic worse if he couldn’t see her, but he tried to encourage him to focus on him.

“I am here,” Wangji told him. “You are not alone.”

Wei Ying managed a nod, taking deep breaths and pressing one thumb to the opposite palm, something the mind healers had taught him to help him find calm.

Jin Zixuan approached, Madam Jin hanging back. He bowed and Wangji bowed back, noting that Wei Ying did the same, shaking slightly.

“Lan-er-gongzi, Wei-gongzi, we intended to visit Cloud Recesses. I didn’t realize you would be in Caiyi.”

He sounded apologetic, and Wangji knew he could see Wei Ying struggling.

“Wei-gongzi, my mother has come to speak with you.”

A panicked noise, so soft Wangji was sure only he heard it, escaped Wei Ying, his breath stuttering again. His knuckles were white, his hand clenched around the basket handle.

Madam Jin was looking at Wei Ying with an expression that bordered on pity, he realized.

“I apologize for your ill treatment at the hands of my former sworn sister, Wei Wuxian,” she said bluntly, bowing low to him. “And for the discomfort my presence has brought you.”

Confusion washed over Wei Ying’s face at her words, but he also seemed to focus, coming out of his panic.

“Former?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Madam Jin nodded.

“I could not continue being her sworn sister after what she did to you, her own ward. It was inexcusable.”

Wei Ying looked lost, almost dizzy, and Wangji placed a hand on his upper arm in case he fell.

“Over something as small as talismans to change the color of the tea,” Jin Zixuan muttered.

Wangji felt Wei Ying tremble, the memory tied up in his near-death. He had stuck talismans to the undersides of each sect leader’s teapot, and the tea had come out in the sect’s main color—Jiang Fengmian’s, violet; Nie Mingjue’s, deep green; xiongzhang’s, a pale blue; Wen Ruohan’s, crimson; Jin Guangshan’s, golden. Even minor sect leaders’ teapots had transformed the color of their tea.

The talismans had changed nothing else about the tea, neither flavor nor quality, and had been well-received by the sect leaders when Wei Ying had explained the tea was safe.

“Just an extra treat for the discussion conference,” he had said with a respectful bow and a cheeky smile.

Madam Yu had ordered him out, stalking after him, and it had been the last time anyone had seen Wei Ying until Jiang Yanli found him so close to death.

“I revealed lax security, she said,” Wei Ying murmured, his voice hollow.

He was shaking more obviously now, and Wangji moved closer as he swayed. They had never spoken of the incident, and he had no idea how Wei Ying might react.

“That’s ridiculous!” Jin Zixuan muttered, the anger in his voice surprising. “Of course you had access as head disciple.”

His comment seemed to jolt Wei Ying out of what Wangji had feared might be the beginning of a fugue, and he started at the Jin heir blankly, like he hadn’t expected a defense from him.

Wangji approved of his anger, befitting one who would be Wei Ying’s brother in law. Madam Yu’s actions had clearly led to a change in Jin Zixuan for the better. He could remember, vaguely, the young man trying to comfort Jiang Yanli as she sobbed, telling her that her brother was strong, he would be okay. Wangji had been far more focused on Wei Ying, leaving him only to help the Jiang siblings pack his belongings and expedite their departure, and only in the care of xiongzhang.

“We are bringing up bad memories,” Madam Jin realized, her voice regretful. “I actually wish to commission you for your talisman work, Wei Wuxian.”

Wei Ying swallowed hard, clearly making an effort to stay present mentally.

“What kind of talisman, Jin-furen?”

She offered him a gentle smile.

“I’d prefer not to discuss it in the street. Let me treat you to lunch, and we can get a private room and chat. With Lan Wangji and my son present, of course.”

Wangji realized she was trying to assure Wei Ying she did not wish him ill, would not seek to harm him, and perhaps was letting him know as well.

Wei Ying gave a jerky nod, glancing at him as though for reassurance. He decided to lead the way to the restaurant he had intended to take him to for lunch, a place known for spicy fare but with dishes that suited his own palate. It happened to have private dining rooms, which Wangji had intended for them anyway, so Wei Ying would have a break from people.

The move put the Jins behind them, he realized when Wei Ying clung to his arm, but the walk was blessedly short. Madam Jin was kind enough to lead the way up the stairs, clearly recognizing Wei Ying’s distress. He was thankful that she also allowed Wei Ying to decide where in the smaller room to sit, deferring to him in a way that most people of her station would not.

Though her kindness was not unselfish—she did, after all, want something—he appreciated it nonetheless. He led Wei Ying to a seat around the table, where he could see the door, a window nearby to facilitate escape if needed, both things that might make him feel more secure.

Wangji worried Wei Ying might eat little, a behavior that manifested when he was stressed, but he could do nothing to alleviate that.

“May we speak before we eat?” Madam Jin asked after settling across from them with her son. “If you decide against taking the commission, I will still purchase lunch. It is the least I can do given your willingness to speak with me.”

Wei Ying nodded again, grasping Wangji’s hand under the table. Wangji squeezed gently, trying to reassure him.

“As you may be aware, my husband has… dallied,” she began.

Jin Zixuan’s face turned a bit sour at this, and Wangji was reminded of Wei Ying’s question to him when he asked for permission to court Jiang Yanli.

“Given… recent events, I have decided it would be prudent to find the children resulting from his indiscretions.”

Wei Ying’s gaze sharpened a bit.

“For what purpose?” he asked softly.

Wangji squeezed his hand again, knowing his thoughts; Wei Ying would not wish to create anything that could result in deaths.

Madam Jin smiled, as though the question pleased her.

“To protect them. I will not legitimize them, but I want them and their mothers, who were perhaps lied to or coerced, or whose freedom needs to be bought from brothels, to be safe and cared for. The children should have the opportunity to learn to cultivate and have a relationship with my son as their half-brother, along with their other half-siblings.”

She sighed softly.

“All involved are innocents, and I could stay bitter as I once was and wish them ill, but after… what was done to you, I don’t wish to be that person. The world could mistake that behavior as acceptable, as there have been few consequences. I want to offer an alternative.”

Wei Ying seemed to need to take several breaths, his hand tightening on Wangji’s for a moment, before he could nod. Wangji could see a suspicious sheen to his eyes, and realized Wei Ying was overcome by Madam Jin’s desire to make right somehow, to force something positive to result from what was done to him.

“One to find, and one to also test those who step forth with claims?” Wei Ying asked after he had calmed.

Madam Jin let out a breath, looking relieved, almost as though she had been concerned Wei Ying would not be up to the task, perhaps still too traumatized.

Not long ago, he would have been, Wangji had to admit. But he was getting better, and he had never stopped inventing new talismans.

“Yes, that would also be useful,” she said. “Thank you.”

“There would likely be a limit on distance,” Wei Ying told her. “But I’d have to experiment with options and prototypes.”

Madam Jin set a large bag of gold in front of him, and Wei Ying’s eyes widened.

“This is a down payment. I understand it may take time, and there is no rush. I will reimburse you for any materials needed, if that becomes an issue.”

Wei Ying looked up at her, frowning slightly.

“I will need your husband’s blood,” he said. “Unless you want me to focus on the sibling aspect, and then I could use Jin Zixuan’s.”

Wangji realized this was Wei Ying’s way of asking if this was being done secretly, without Sect Leader Jin’s knowledge.

Madam Jin actually laughed softly.

“Oh, you are bright,” she said, her voice full of delighted praise. “My husband is still claiming innocence, and is not willing to take part in this project. My son has kindly offered to help instead.”

Wangji tried not to be concerned about the implications that this could be against Sect Leader Jin’s wishes. Wei Ying was under the protection of Gusu Lan now, and he would defend him personally if need be.

Jin Zixuan pulled out a pouch and slid it gently across the table.

“Several vials of my blood. I can provide more if needed.”

Wei Ying looked momentarily shocked at the implied level of trust—the amount of blood needed to harm someone via a curse or hex was miniscule, after all—and attempted a smile.

“I’ll try not to waste any.”

Jin Zixuan only nodded, and Wangji took the bag to slip into his qiankun pouch. Wei Ying handed him the pouch of money without looking at him, the exchange made less simple by the fact that Wei Ying didn’t let go of his hand under the table. Though his grip wasn’t tight, Wangji refused to break it, refused to let go when he needed him.

Madam Jin slid the door open to let the servers know they were ready for tea.

Wei Ying’s gaze had gone a bit glassy, though his eyes were moving as he thought, perhaps distracted by ideas for the talisman. Wangji resolved to ensure Wei Ying ordered and ate plenty, knowing he might need prompting. He knew they would return to Cloud Recesses following this, without a replacement for Wei Ying’s broken guan, and without additional gifts for the Jiang siblings. Wei Ying would need time to rest before meeting with shufu and xiongzhang, particularly after the strain he had just endured.

They would release the turtle in front of the jingshi together, and Wangji would play the guqin for him while he rested. Then, following the meeting, wherein Wei Ying’s status would be clarified, Wangji would seek permission from his siblings to court him.

He ran his thumb across the back of Wei Ying’s hand, and was relieved when the act was returned, when the glassiness left his eyes and he looked at him with a tired-looking smile.

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

I didn’t really expect the turtle thing, but it happened kind of organically as I was bringing Caiyi to life. Wei Ying is going to name it Tang 汤, meaning ‘soup,’ because of course he is. This particular turtle is a species native to mountainous regions of southern China, the four-eyed turtle. And now I need to do more research on turtles because of course I do.

In addition to Wei Ying’s recovery, this fic is also in part about the cultivation world’s reaction to what Yu Ziyuan did, in that there are some consequences. Hence Madam Jin dissolving their sworn sisterhood and commissioning Wei Ying. Her decision to take in and ensure Jin Guangshan’s bastards and mistresses are cared for is partially out of spite for what her former sworn sister did, but is also the result of some soul-searching on her part. This is not Madam Jin assuming that Wei Ying is Jiang Fengmian’s secret bastard son, btw.

As I’ve noted in other MDZS fics I’m writing, I like to explore how a point of change can cascade to change other things, so I am back on my bullshit. Also, I think this makes the third fic where I’ve referenced Ruan Ji and Ji Kang. I just bought a book of their translated poetry that’s supposed to be delivered next week.

#my fanfiction #the untamed #untamed fanfiction #mo dao zu shi #untamed fanfic #mdzs #mdzs fanfic #mdzs fanfiction #chen qing ling #CQL #cql fanfic #cql fanfiction #wei ying #wei wuxian #lan zhan #lan wangji #jin zixuan #madam jin

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