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official-weasley · 3 years

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Meant to Be (Charlie Weasley x OC)

What happens when Bill brings home a girl and Charlie is completely awestruck by her?

WARNINGS: SMUT, angst, mentions of alcohol, curse words

CHAPTER 5

Charlie

She cupped my face and stuck her tongue down my throat. She was not messing around, she meant business. She took off her shirt and I followed her lead and did the same. Soon her bra flew off and I looked at her in pure admiration. She had stretch marks on her breasts and a big, deep scar from between them and all the way down to the right side of her belly button. I ran my finger across her scar and looked at her. I could see it in her eyes that she felt insecure about it but to me, she looked absolutely stunning.

I turned her arms around so I could see her wrists and I could finally run my thumb over her tattoo. She was watching my every move before she leaned closer to me and started sucking on my neck.

I unzipped her jeans and she put her hand on my crotch. Her eyes sparkled when she felt how hard I was. She stood up and took off her jeans and I did the same with my sweatpants and boxers.

She sat back on me and rubbed herself against my dick. Fuck, she was so wet. She grabbed my neck with her right hand and looked me straight in my eyes. The fact that she wasn’t shy at all made her so sexy. Without breaking eye contact she sat on my dick and I let out a loud groan which brought a naughty smirk to her lips.

She started to move her hips up and down, biting her lips, still looking at me. I was beginning to feel dizzy and I wasn’t sure if it was from the Fire Whiskey or the fact how good she felt. Damn, I was hard for her. This was insane!

Is this how it feels like having sex with someone you really connect with? Is this it? I heard people say that it’s so much better if you’re with someone you care for. But I was in love before and it didn’t feel like this.

The sensation I was getting from our bodies being together was so much more than I thought a human could feel. I swear I never felt like this before, it should be illegal how good it was. My body was shaking with all the pleasure running through it.

Even though I know it was wrong on so many levels, it felt so right. As if everything I ever did in my life; every decision I have ever made led to this moment and it finally happened.

I noticed she was getting weak, her breaths got faster and deeper. I gently pushed her away from me. She slouched her back and put her hands on my knees behind her. I helped her bounce with my left hand, licked two of my fingers on my right, and pressed them on her clit.

Her eyes rolled into her skull and she let out a loud moan that filled the whole lower floor of the house. What a melody for my ears! I put more pressure on her button and moved her hips faster up and down.

She put her hands on her breasts and started playing with them. She was getting tighter and I knew she was close. Just looking at her enjoying every second of it was bringing me close to the edge.

“Cum for me, baby.” I whispered to her.

“Oh, Charlie.” The way she said my name fried my brain. I never wanted it to end.

“Charlie.”

“Charlie? Charlie, are you alive?” I opened my eyes and saw Bill waving a hand in front of my face. I sat up so abruptly that I heard something pop in my spine. My action made papers fly all around me and I rubbed my eyes, the sunlight being too bright.

Papers?

I looked around me and there were pieces of parchment everywhere. On the floor. On the coffee table, on the sofa next to me. I was covered with a blanket and my eyes widened when I realized it was the next morning.

I looked down in panic and saw that I had my boxers on and my t-shirt. I looked at the kitchen table and it was empty. Was I dreaming? Was the whole night just a dream?

I rubbed my eyes again and felt the headache kicking in. Well, I’m definitely hungover. I looked around but I couldn’t see the empty Fire Whiskey bottle anywhere. What was going on?

“Seriously, are you okay?” I finally looked up at Bill.

I didn’t even know how to feel. For the sake of me, I couldn’t remember if I slept with Rhylee. Where was she anyway?

“I…” I took a deep breath.

I have to calm myself down and my heart needs to chill. Going from seeing Rhylee sitting on me to seeing Bill’s face was not a good transition.

“I’m fine. I just had a bad dream.” It was the first thing that came to mind.

“I see you had fun last night?” Bill laughed.

“What?” I barked in panic.

What did he mean by that?!

“Your reports.” Bill said in a gentle voice.

I exhaled and felt my heartbeat slowing down.

“Right.” I smiled faintly.

“How was the village?” I turned the conversation to him.

I couldn’t keep up with my thoughts. It couldn’t be a dream, could it? I have never had such a vivid dream before. This was insane. I started piling up the paperwork and Bill kneeled to help me with the ones on the floor.

“It was fun actually. Can you believe that the twins were complete angels?” He chuckled.

“A true Christmas miracle.” I laughed and he followed.

This was too much. I felt so bad. He was clueless and this brotherly bonding made me feel even more guilty even though I am still unsure if I was dreaming. It definitely felt too good to be true.

“I wish you could be there, Charlie. We hadn’t had such a peaceful Christmas since Fred and George were in their diapers.” Bill sighed.

Bill, stop it, you’re making me feel worse!

“Perhaps I’m the reason they misbehave.” I joked.

“Mistery solved!” Bill clapped.

He was too happy for me to be around him.

“Now, how about you go take a shower and we’ll tell you more about it when we all sit down for breakfast.” He put his hand on my shoulder.

I hated that he looked concerned for me. I didn’t deserve a brother like him.

I stood up and rushed upstairs to my room. I took a fresh towel from my drawer and went to the bathroom across the corridor. It was a miracle it was empty today and nobody was banging on the door.

I took my clothes off and waited for the water to get hot. I stepped inside the shower and just let the water run down my body. I leaned on the wall with my forearms and stuck my head between them.

I was still confused about what happened last night. I could swear I went downstairs to work and Rhylee joined me and then we got drunk and had sex. But then again I could just be dreaming about it all night, couldn’t I?

I closed my eyes, trying to remember how I brought all my papers from the kitchen to the living room but I couldn’t. The second I shut my eyelids I saw her. Naked, sitting on me, moving her hips and biting her lip. I could feel the heat of her body on my skin, her breath on my neck. I could hear her moans and her calling out my name.

I felt myself getting hard and I shook my head. I needed a cold shower not a hot one.

I pressed my palms into my eyes so much it hurt. I needed to get these pictures out of my head and focus. This was ridiculous. I never obsessed over a girl with whom I had a one-night stand before.

But that was it. It didn’t feel like a hook-up. It felt like so much more. There was so much passion and so many feelings. I know I sound insane since I barely know her but that’s how I feel.

I still have the feeling, she gave me when she kissed me, in my lungs. It wasn’t butterflies, it was more. If I didn’t feel so guilty and so bad about the fact that I don’t know if it actually happened, I could describe it as pure happiness.

This is what I always imagined feeling when I would find a girl to settle down with. When I would know that she’s the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.

I can’t feel like this now.

I can’t feel it with her.

I can’t.

Just a few more days and then I’ll go back to Romania and I can bottle my feelings as deep as I possibly can.

I closed the pipe and stepped out of the shower. I dried my body and rubbed my hair into a towel. I forgot to bring my clothes so I put the towel around my waist. I started towards the door and my towel got loose so I tucked it in again, while opening the door with my other hand.

Because I was looking down at what I was doing I didn’t see the person standing in front of the door and bumped into them. I hastily grabbed my towel, which got loose again upon collision.

“Good morning.” Rhylee smiled at me, her eyes beaming. “You don’t have to hide anything from me. I saw it all last night.” She winked at me when she saw what I was doing.

“So I wasn’t dreaming.” I blinked at her. “Last night really happened?”

“Dreaming?” She pressed her lips together, trying hard not to laugh. “You’re dreaming about me already? At least buy me dinner first.” She leaned in to kiss me.

I grabbed her shoulders to stop her and pulled her into the bathroom closing the door behind us.

“I’m sorry for what happened last night.” I said with a shaky voice.

It actually happened. I wasn’t dreaming. Oh, this was bad! This was really bad. What am I supposed to do now? I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I felt my throat tighten and my chest started to hurt. Is this what a panic attack feels like, because I am sure I am having one.

Guilt.

It was guilt for what I’ve done. The events from last night rolled in front of my eyes again but this time there was nothing happy about them. It was terrible. I am a horrible brother. How could I do this to Bill? He is going to kill me and he will never speak to me again! I won’t only lose my big brother but my best friend. I can’t live with this.

“Why are you apologizing?” Rhylee frowned in confusion. “I can assure you I had a great time.” She smirked and took a step toward me again but I motioned with my hand for her to stop.

“Look, what happened between us was a mistake.” I whispered.

I didn’t have the strength to look her in the eyes.

“Oh.” Was all she said. “I thought…”

“You thought wrong.” I interrupted her. “You came here with Bill, Rhylee.”

“Bill? Is that what this is about?” She questioned. “You feel bad because I’m your brother’s friend?”

How couldn’t she understand? How couldn’t she see the bigger picture here – see how wrong this was.

“You…” I bit my upper lip. I was not the person to tell her this but I didn’t know how else to explain. “Bill fancies you, Rhylee.”

Now she was the one who took a step back. I finally mustered the courage to look at her. Damn, why did she have to look so cute in her pajamas?

“What?” Was all she could reply.

“You are seriously going to tell me that you didn’t know?” I narrowed my eyes at her.

Bill looked at her like she was the only person in the room and she didn’t notice?

“I...”

She did know! Then why in the bloody hell did she sleep with me?!

“It’s true, he is always so nice to me but he is nice to everybody so I never thought twice about it.” I could see the panic in her eyes but I don’t think she was telling the truth.

“I’m sorry I was the one who told you. It’s just…” I sucked in a breath. “I thought you knew since he brought you to meet his family for the holidays.”

“I thought he was just being polite because he knew I was planning on spending Christmas alone.” She said innocently.

Was she really that clueless? Somehow I didn’t believe her. She put her hands to her mouth. I could see she started to feel guilty.

“Look…” I put my hand on her shoulder.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t expect this. Any of this. I didn’t know how to comfort her when I didn’t even know what to do about it myself.

“Nothing has to change. We will forget about what happened last night and you can go out with Bill.” I tried smiling at her.

This was killing me but I knew it was the right thing to do.

“What?” She failed to understand.

“Bill is going to ask you out and you should go out with him.” I explained.

“I don’t like Bill like that.” My heart sank at her words. “I know we only know each other for a couple of days but I am not the type of girl to play with someone’s feelings.” She shook her head. “Do you really think that I would have sex with you if I knew your brother fancied me? I would never do anything to come between you two, I know you’re his best friend.”

“Then why did you sleep with me?” I didn’t know what else to say.

I felt like screaming. I still didn’t believe she was telling me the truth. I felt as if she was pretending not to know that Bill liked her.

“Because…” She took a deep breath. “Because I thought we had a connection.” She looked down at floor, trying to avoid my eyes.

This made me feel worse.

This was so unfair.

A beautiful girl was standing in front of me and she felt the same way about me as I did about her. She knew there was something between us and it was tearing me apart that I couldn’t put my arms around her waist and kiss her. I hated feeling like this. I hated how right it was between us and I had to let her go instead of asking her out.

What did I do to deserve this?

“Is this why you were resisting me so much yesterday?” She snapped me out of my thoughts. “Because you were giving me such mixed signals. I found you so playful and you looked like a person who knows how to loosen up a bit and have some fun but then you were so stiff when we started playing the game.” She was talking more to herself than to me.

I guess everything started to make sense to her now.

“You were holding back.” She came to a conclusion.

I simply nodded. I couldn’t deny that. She was right. If the circumstances were different I would’ve enjoyed the game much more last night. I would flirt with her. Heck, I would even bring the other bottle of whiskey, that’s how fun she was to be around. We could’ve had a whole party for all I care if…

I felt my throat tighten again. Every time I start feeling the happy sensation I remember why I’m so miserable.

Bill.

She’s here because of Bill.

“What are we going to do about it?” She continued as I still didn’t say anything.

“We?” I shook my head. “Nothing. We can’t do anything about it.”

“You can’t deny that last night meant something to you.” She breathed.

I replied with a hum. What was I supposed to say? Of course, it meant something. It was the best night of my life. But I can’t tell her that. I can’t give her hope. I have to get out of here!

“Did you move my papers?” I changed the topic.

I couldn’t continue talking about this.

About us.

There was no us.

It can’t be.

“I woke up in the middle of the night and I tried to wake you but you’re a heavy sleeper.” A smile started to spread across her face but apparently, the expression on my face told her that it shouldn’t. “I didn’t want your family walking in on us naked on Christmas day so I moved your papers and put some clothes on you so it would look like you fell asleep working.”

“Thanks.” I whispered.

I was grateful for it. And she was right. I was a heavy sleeper. I don’t even want to imagine the consequences if my family found us naked on the sofa; if Bill saw us like that.

“Charlie?!” I heard my mum calling me. “Breakfast!” I don’t think I was ever so grateful to hear her voice.

“I have to get dressed. You should go down.” I said in a much colder voice than I intended.

I didn’t want to be rude to her. Quite the opposite but I didn’t have a choice. We slept together. It was a mistake and it can’t happen again so the faster we forget about it, the better for us both.

I walked past her, without looking at her, and exited the bathroom. I returned to my room to get dressed and rushed down the stairs as fast as I could. Perhaps I will be able to stop thinking about it, about her, if I’m surrounded by other people.

Rhylee proved me wrong the second she sat down and I saw Bill blush. I don’t think I would feel this bad if I’d kill someone. The guilt is going to be the death of me.

I couldn’t eat. I think I left my appetite in the bathroom upstairs.

“Charlie finished his reports yesterday. Did you managed to get everything in order for the dragon?” Bill asked Rhylee while putting a sausage on his plate.

“I did.” She put on a faint smile. She was observing Bill’s every move and I could see the guilt in her eyes. “It turned to only be a few papers so I wish I went with you. I was done rather quickly.”

“What did you do after that?” I stiffened in my seat at Bill’s words.

I tried avoiding looking at Rhylee but I couldn’t.

“I stayed in Ginny’s room.” She glanced at me but quickly looked away. “I took the liberty of reading one of your books, I hope you don’t mind.” She said to Ginny.

“Not at all.” Ginny said with her mouth full.

Usually, that would make me smile but right now nothing could. I was preparing to get up and run to the bathroom as I felt like I wouldn’t be able to stomach this for much longer. I completely ruined the only free time I had in six months. I ruined the holidays for myself and I practically broke Bill’s heart.

I know Rhylee said that she only sees Bill as a friend but perhaps if we hadn’t slept together she would say yes to going out with him anyway. I don’t know what she is going to do now. I was certain she felt just as bad as I did, I knew that much.

“Mum, can we open the presents now?” Fred asked.

The twins were shaking in their seats from excitement.

“But you didn’t finish your breakfast.” Mum replied.

They both gave her the sweetest look that melted my heart. Ron and Ginny followed their lead.

“Pretty please!” They all said in unison.

“Oh, alright.” Mum rolled her eyes playfully and gestured for them to go to the living room.

I decided to join them.

Soon, wrapping paper was everywhere. The twins and I were already wearing our newly knitted jumpers mum made us. My parents, Percy, Bill, and Rhylee joined us soon after and we exchanged gifts.

I bought my mum a pair of gloves, a scarf and a hat to match. I visited a Muggle electronic shop in Romania to get my dad some plugs as I knew he didn’t have any from Romania yet. I got Ginny a book about Quidditch and bought a few new figures for Ron’s chess set as some of his were looking very worn down. I bought Percy a book about advanced spells and Bill a book about ancient magic. I remember him mentioning it in one of his letters and I made sure to write it down to get it for him as I knew he was too busy to do it on his own.

Now that I was watching him turn the pages, the biggest smile on his face, it didn’t bring me joy. I wasn’t happy how excited he was to read it. I felt horrible. He thought I was the best brother to remember the book he wanted to read. Little did he know that he would be better without me.

“How about us?” The twins turned to me when they realized that they were the only ones that didn’t receive a present from me.

“Yours is upstairs.” I leaned closer to them and whispered. “I placed them on your tables and you can open them later.” I emphasized the last word, hoping they would get the hint that they can’t do it now.

I bought them a set of fireworks that is sold only in Romania. I know mum is going to lose it but I couldn’t help myself when I saw it. I just had to get it for them. Mum would have to get in line to kill me anyway. I think Bill should do the honors.

I was sitting there, watching my family open their presents. They were all so happy and cheerful. The smiles on their faces were priceless. I won’t deny that I enjoyed opening presents but observing them having fun, sitting on the floor around the Christmas tree was my favorite activity of this holiday.

A smile spread across my face. I loved them all so much and seeing them so happy meant the world to me. I would do anything for every single one of them.

“Wow, Bill.” I turned to Rhylee as she spoke. “It’s beautiful.” She was looking at the necklace in her hands. It was golden with a little dragon egg charm.

I looked at Bill and he looked so proud of himself. I knew how happy it made him that she liked the gift. I, on the other hand, wanted to die. The way he was looking at her, the way his eyes sparkled, and how shy he got all of a sudden, it was killing me.

“Uhm…”

I can't take this anymore.

“I completely forgot to tell you. I got a letter yesterday that I have to return to work today.”

“What?” Mum’s smile disappeared from her face.

My dad was frowning in disappointment and it looked like Ginny was about to cry.

“I know I was supposed to stay for a few more days but a few eggs hatched prematurely and due to so many people leaving for the holidays the team that stayed behind can’t handle it.” I couldn’t believe how convincing I sounded.

It was breaking my heart looking at all of their faces. I know they wanted me to stay as much as I wish I could. But I have to get out of here.

I know it’s cowardly of me. I know I should own up to my mistake but I love my family too much and I never thought I would have to be in a position like this. If they knew what I’ve done. If they knew how I betrayed my brother, they would be so mad at me.

Mum would have my head. I was taught better than this. It might be seven of us but we were raised properly. We were raised to be fair and admit our wrongs and love each other. And I did quite the opposite. I’m lying to all of them. I hurt my brother by sleeping with the girl he liked so much.

I didn’t deserve them. I didn’t deserve them feeling sorry for me that I have to go back to work. I didn’t deserve to be missed that’s how bad I felt about this. How will I ever look Bill in the eyes again? I really hope Rhylee will go out with him. I hope she will say yes when he asks her out on a date. I hope she will be able to forget about this and start a life with him so that he can be happy.

I don’t care about myself. Bill was there for me for 5 out of my 7 years at Hogwarts. He advised me and scolded me and wished me all the best every step of the way. We got so drunk the night I got my job at the Sanctuary and we were planning all night how to tell mum about it as we knew she was going to flip out as much as she did when Bill got his job in Egypt.

He was beyond happy for me. He is the best brother anyone could ever ask for. He’s kind, he always puts others first and he’s not selfish. He is loving and caring and would do anything for his family.

Until yesterday I thought I was the same. But I was wrong. I felt like the worst person in the world. I was a scumbag. Unworthy of a brother like him.

I ignored the groans and whines of my family, stood up, and went upstairs to pack. Hopefully, by leaving I will feel better. At least I won’t have to look at Rhylee anymore for her to remind me how special last night was and what we both felt when we were together. At least I won’t have to look at Bill and lie to his face that everything is fine because it wasn’t.

Nothing was.

I might be a big family guy when it comes to my parents and my siblings but Bill was the one who dreamt about having one of his own more than me. I knew that with the job I have it would be difficult to settle down and I’ve made my peace with it but deep down I always hoped that there would be a time when I would meet a girl and she would prove me wrong.

With every girl I’ve met and been with, I lost more hope of that ever happening for me until I’ve met Rhylee. Her personality, her playfulness, her brutal honesty, the way she made me laugh. I never thought I would get a chance to meet a girl like her. And to top it all of, she was as obsessed with dragons as I was.

She was everything that I ever wished for in a girl and I can never be with her. It was painful to know that but it was true. I know you only come across a girl like this once in your life and I got my chance but she came home with the wrong brother.

I sighed and zipped my bag.

I was about to go down the stairs when I heard a noise behind me.

“Charlie, do you have a mo?” I turned around to see Rhylee standing in front of Ginny’s room.

I hesitated for a second. One part of me wanted nothing more than to talk to her again but another part of me was telling me to just go downstairs and return to Romania already.

The former part won. I put my bag on the ground and stepped closer to her. She was hiding something behind her back.

“I just want to give you your Christmas present.” She said in a whisper.

“You didn’t have to get me anything. I don’t have anything for you.” Great, another thing for me to feel bad about.

“You couldn’t know I would be here.” She giggled.

I couldn’t help but do the same. Her laugh was contagious.

“Right.” I didn’t know what else to say.

I hated that my heart started to beat faster and there was nothing I could do about it.

“It’s silly, really.” She smiled, revealing the little box she was hiding before, and looked at it. “The only thing I knew about you was that you love dragons. So here…” She extended her arm with the box in her hand.

“Thank you.” I slowly took it from her and turned around.

I can’t do this. I can’t make small talk with her when all I want to talk about is us and how amazing we could be together.

“You’re not leaving because of what happened last night, are you?” I felt her hand around my wrist.

It gave me goosebumps and sent shivers down my spine.

“Look, Rhylee.” I swallowed hard, turning back to her. “Bill is a great guy. The best actually. He’s loving and has the biggest heart. You should really give him a chance.”

“Charlie, I…” She shook her head. “Last night…what happened between us was so magical and I never felt…”

“Please, don’t.” I stopped her.

I shook my arm so she let go of it and went for my bag.

“You should give him a chance.” I said again, looking down the stairs, her standing behind me.

I stood there for a second more to collect myself. A few months ago our Swedish Short-Snout hit me with her tail and knocked me out. That was less painful than letting her go. I felt as if my chest was going to split in half and I had to try really hard to breathe.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath. and went downstairs.

“Oh, Charlie, dear, I wish you could stay longer.” Mum said as she pulled me in a tight embrace.

“Me too, mum.” I hugged her back even though I didn’t deserve her hug.

“I’ll miss you, Charlie!” Ginny was next in line to say goodbye and Ron followed, hugging me awkwardly.

“Thank you for the gift, Charlie.” Fred whispered to me. George grinning next to him.

“But you don’t even know what I got you yet?” I ruffled their hair.

“If we can’t open it in front of mum, it has to be something amazing.” George added.

I shook my head. I love them so much, no matter how mischievous they are.

“Bye, Perce.” I went to hug him but he gave me his hand to shake instead.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. He will never change.

I quickly hugged my dad and then the moment I dreaded finally came. I turned to Bill and for the first time ever wished I had more siblings to say goodbye to so that I wouldn’t have to face him.

“This was very sudden.” He whispered in my ear as he pulled me in a hug.

“Yeah, I got the letter yesterday evening. You know how it is.” I shrugged.

“You sure you’re okay?” He put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes.

“Sure.” I smiled as much as I could, even though I felt like taking him outside and telling him everything and then beg for his forgiveness and ask him to hex me as many times as he needs to.

He nodded, believing yet another lie I fed him today and I started towards the door. I opened it and turned around to wave at my family. I closed the door behind me and closed my eyes. I wanted to remember their happy faces. I know that with the amount of guilt I’m feeling I’m not coming home for a long time.

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yanderecandystore · 3 years

Note

idea for another continuation of red/reader/black timeline!Cute but unwanted fluffy times as they lock reader away in there room killing off the rest of the crewmates and coming to check up on their beloved reader,when they visit it’s all cuddles and soft spoken comfort and eventually the two get into the topic of how red and black met and explain to reader glossing over the murder that definitely happened like it was no big deal and painting it as a perfect love story

The funny part about this is how I was considering making a joke the other day about how they could have met, so you can imagine how hard I laughed when I heard that someone was interested in a headcanon about it.

Thanks for requesting this!

TW/Tags: silly fun // not game accurate // monster fuckery // delusional thinking // mentions of death // pretty short // mentions of drinking/alcohol // Buddy is gone in this timeline and most of the crew has already died // I changed some of the aspects of your ask unconsciously, I'm sorry ;-;

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

How I met your lover [Yandere! Among Us x Reader - Headcanon]:

It was past the sleeping curfew your crewmates had set to guarantee everyone's safety. You were about to go to bed when you heard the familiar knock on your metallic door.

You had let them inside despite the guilty feeling creeping in, you were sure that this small friendly act would be considered breaking the rules, and that would cause the rest of the crewmates to be alarmed by the sudden decision of breaking rules and not following the curfew.

Still, it's not like you really believed in that stupid rule, after all, what would stopped the killer from simply entering their room and killing them? And besides, it's not like Black and Red would ever hurt you, they're simply way deep into their own little world for any of them to be the killer.

It's not like you even had a choice actually, they simply came in after you opened the door. You suspected that they were possibly a little bit drunk, considering the lack of self awareness and personal privacy, not that you minded them hugging you and being touchy, but-

It was still kinda off, even a little out of character for them to be so giggly and happy, carrying a wine bottle they shouldn't even be able to have access to since it was considered a "only for celebrations" type of necessity.

Still, they claimed they wanted to spend time with you and that this was indeed a date to be celebrated (although it was more of a personal reason than anything). They seemed happy and you felt like you couldn't stop them from sharing it with you, after all, you did feel a little lonely that day. With your little partner in crime gone and most of your crew dead, you had started to feel really lonely and a little uncomfortable how everyone seemed to be drifting away due to the distrust that your crew was experiencing.

So you've let them come in and celebrate this special day inside your bedroom, as weird as that sounds. Why was today so important to them? Well, it's very simple-

"- It's our 6th wedding anniversary you silly little thing!" Red booped your nose as they continued to explain the details of their relationship. They were a cute couple, but it was also a little sad inducing how they would go on and on about how perfect their marriage was. It made you feel somewhat sad and jealous of how long they've been with each other and how happy they seemed whenever they were in each other's presence.

"- Tell [Y/N] how we've met, babe, please!" Red was shaking their lover as they continued to indulge in their own state of high due to the consumption of alcohol. Black was a little more alert than Red, so the moment their partner told them to tell you about that day, they panicked trying to find the right words to describe their first encounter.

"- Well- Uhh, you see, we-we've met-" Black wasn't quick enough to come up with an excuse, which caused Red to misinterpret it as Black not remembering how they met.

"- Blaaaaack, did you forget that we met in the lab-" Red whined feeling hurt since their partner had forgotten simply the most important day of their lives-

"- N-No babe, I-I remember- We met in the laboratory, at the space station, I-I was…. I was, uhn-" Black was stuttering trying to remember the exact thing they "were" before joining the crew for the extraterrestrial exploration.

Truth was that Black took the form of a poor unfortunate scientist that discovered and classified them as an extraterrestrial violent creature that needed to be studied further so humanity could have some sort of advantage in defending themselves against a shapeshifting space creature.

This whole expedition to space was created to be a learning expedition, so that the crew could have hopefully found another one of the shapeshifting aliens living out there. What that same scientist didn't know, was how far their intelligence went, and how much could they understand human behavior and mindset, and if it wasn't for a tiny mistake, that same scientist could have been here right now with all of the fellow crew members still alive.

Well, that tiny mistake was letting their assistant take care of the alien whenever the scientist wasn't around, which led to Red and "Black" meeting each other and falling in an odd obsessive love. You could say that they were work colleagues in a way, which was exactly what Black told you, that they were just two colleagues that had fallen in love at work, so sweet right?

It's not like Red ended up freeing a violent specimen and helping it escape and letting it blend into society by taking away the identity of the same scientist that had discovered them, by not only eating the original one but also assuming their role and name as "Black", right?

It's totally not that specific thing I've mentioned-

"- Oh so you two have known each other for so long? It must be nice getting to meet the love of your life at work." You said naively believing in their lies as they continued to sugar coat the specifics of their relationship.

"- Yes it is…" Black said, still sweating at the fact they're terrible at lying, especially towards their own "partner" (you, in this case).

"- You seem upset, [Y/N]. It's something wrong?" Black asked as they continued to observe your expression growing into a frown.

"- It's nothing really… I just think it's really cute how you two met, sounds like a fairy tail if you ask me-"You answered them, while still hiding the fact you feel jealous of their perfect, overly sweet, marriage. It's starting to make you sick how happy they're, even in a situation as terrible as this one.

Being trapped inside a spaceship while a maniac runs down killing everyone? Sounds like the perfect recipe to conflict, yet they haven't even yelled at each other once. And what about you? You're all alone, most of your close friends dead and your dog is missing-

"- Ooooooooo noooooooo, baby don't cry!!" Red had suddenly thrown themselves at you causing you to come back to your senses. You must have looked like a jackass getting so jealous of them, but for your luck they didn't notice you were getting jealous of their relationship.

No, they actually thought you were getting jealous of them, of them not including you in their lives sooner so you all could be celebrating this exact day together already!

"- R-Red I'm not crying, don't worry about it." You tried shaking your drunken crewmate away from your torso, they didn't even budge since they were holding you with all the strength they had.

"- I just think it's so unfair-" Red mumbled something that you didn't understand, so you asked them to start again.

"- I JUST THINK IT'S SO UNFAIR!-" They said a lot faster and louder now, they were clearly mad that they had to repeat their words, as if they didn't realize they weren't making any sense in the first place.

"- Don't worry too much about them, they're too drunk to-" Black was about to apologise for Red's current state, when they ended up being cut short by sniffing and crying.

"- [Sniff]"

"- R-Red? Are you alright??" You shook them trying to get them to look up in your eyes.

"- I love you two just so much, I can't even [Sniff]-" Red continued to cry and mumble things of the liking. It was clear to you that they didn't seem to be in the right state of mind and we're only saying nonsense.

You decided to tell them it was time for them to get some rest, which Black took as a sign to simply flop down in your bed, as Red was already deep in their unconscious while their faces were in your lap.

It was… Cute, how they simply fall asleep in your bed, but at the same time it feels like you wouldn't be able to get them to wake up and move into their rooms, as they didn't respond to either or your tries to get them off of your bed.

You had considered changing rooms with them just for the night, since they probably wouldn't want a stranger like you to sleep with them like that right? They would probably freak out whenever they wake up.

Yet the moment you managed to get out of bed and reach the door, you felt an eerie cold air hit your stomach, as if you would be doomed if you decided to open the door and go away from the bedroom.

You decided to place your ear on the metal door, just in case you could hear anything on the other side. You only heard the sound of an empty spaceship, as the internal functions seemed to be still on and working as usual, however, the loud sound of the machinery working on the other side of the halls didn't really help your busy mind feel any better, since the silence still dominated the entirety of the dorm area.

Was… Everyone already asleep? Why was everything so silent?

Why did you feel like something bad just happened? Why did you feel like you should be running away from this very bedroom?

But more importantly, why was your bedroom door locked? How was your bedroom door locked without your permission?

You felt like you did something wrong… Like the attentive eyes carefully watching you were judging every one of your moves. You probably shouldn't have gotten out of bed.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#yandere #sheep stuff #sheep's stuff #yandere x reader #yandere headcanon #yandere scenarios #yandere among us headcanon #yandere among us x reader #yandere among us #special delivery headcanons #special delivery request

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tomtenadia · 3 years

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Island Dreams - Chapter 13

Chapter 13 is here. I hope you will like it. The central part has... a very interesting development. As you hoped... Elias arc is reaching its end but I hope you still like him. He is still a teddy bear. Sorry man, ut she is Rowan's.

Rowan uses the expression Tha gaol agam ort. I will let you imagine what it means based on the context. If I tell you know it could be a spoiler.

And... well you have to read it.

__________

Rowan was alone in the shop. He had given Aelin the morning off. At the word disaster he had a feeling she might want some time alone to deal with whatever happened so was happy to spend the morning on his own. He just hoped she was okay. She had told him she was not ready to talk about it yet and he would give her all the time she needed but in the morning as soon as he woke up he had the temptation to text her and check on her. Until a while ago he had never used a mobile phone. Now it was his only way to talk to her when she was not around and since she was the only person who had his number he’d jump every time he received a text from her. He was lost. Utterly and completely lost. Tangled in his thought he did not notice straight away the door open until he heard a familiar voice. He looked up and Elias was standing in front of him and a part of him just wanted to punch the man. Aelin was feeling horrible because of him.

“Good morning,” said Elias in a tone that Rowan did not like. If he was here for a fight, he’s give him one. Rowan was glad that after a busy morning, the shop was all of a sudden empty, he had a feeling that the conversation coming up did not need an audience. The man in front of him finally moved a step closer and reached the counter and braced his hands on it. “So, dear Rowan…” he started with a tone anything but friendly “I guess you are probably aware that my date last night with Aelin was one big failure.” Nervously he began pacing “I spent a whole week looking forward to see her again. To go out with her and have a nice meal. I missed her. Madly.” Then he turned to Rowan and hold his stare “Imagine my disappointment to discover that instead she decided to end things.” “She is her own person. She is the master of her own life and if she decided to end things you have to respect her.” The tone in Rowan’s tone was getting dangerous. “She can do whatever she wants with her life. But you meddled.” Elias’ tone matched the one of the man in front of him. Rowan did not like the comment and had to fight to restrain himself. “She was fine, we were doing fine, getting to know each other, then you had the brilliant idea of offering her such a pathetic job and all goes to hell.” Rowan took a deep breath “I offered her this job because at the moment she is not working and not getting paid so I assumed she might have loved to get some cash in. She has a knack for it. Also, since you are so in love with her you might have noticed that Aelin is obsessed with books.” Rowan fought back “Do you know that the very first day she got her, she came off the ferry and this bookstore is where she came straight on? She is in her element here.” Rowan’s hands were at his sides and now in fists “It might be a pathetic job, as you call it, but she loves it. And she is happy.” “You took her from me.” Blurted Elias who seemed not to have listened a word Rowan said, far too involved in his own pain. “She is this incredible amazing woman I am madly in love with. And I have to give her up. I will respect her feelings. But it’s fucking unfair.” Rowan finally came away from behind the counter and stopped in front of Elias. The man was tall but Rowan was a fairly imposing picture. “I did not take her from you.” He almost growled again “I told you already. She is her own person and she does not need me to make decision for her. I did not put her against you. I gave her the freedom to make her own choice, so don’t make me pass for the bad guy here.” “I love her.” Elias confessed in an almost broken voice. “I love her and all I can think since last night is that I can’t be with her. Do you have an idea how that fucking hurts?” Elias started pacing again “I can make her happy. Give her all she needs.” Rowan stared at the man in silence and could hear the anguish in the man’s words. He was probably just as mad for Aelin as he was. “I will meet with her tonight.” He admitted “we agreed on having a talk to end things in a more civilised way.” Grey eyes met pine green eyes “I want to be friends. Just friends, I swear. I will respect her feeling and her choice and I hope you will allow me that. I can’t loose her completely.” Elias stance relaxed a bit when he noticed Rowan nod. “It’s her choice. I will accept anything she decides. Like you, I have her best interest at heart. She has been through enough.” And his mind went to her confession and wondered if the man in front of him knew as well. Elias breathed out in relief “Thank you. I hope…” he paused for a moment as if to gather his thoughts “I hope you understand your luck. I hope you realise she is incredible and please don’t break her heart or I’ll come back and kick your arse so hard you will reach London by inertia.” “I have no intention of hurting her.” Said Rowan ignoring the veil of arrogance in the man’s words. “Make her happy, please. You win.” And with that he left the shop. Rowan texted her straight away Are you okay?

Aelin arrived in the early afternoon at the shop. After she had quickly told him about her disastrous night he had told her to take the morning off. It was not unusual. The shop tended to be busier in the afternoon and Rowan was always happy to allow her the morning off if she needed it. So she had gone for a run. Sleep had been fitful and she kept going through the fight she had with Elias. It had been horrible and tears were still threatening to make an appearance at the thought of the terrible things they had said to each other. A the selfish part of her though, was happy that it was over. She wanted to tell Rowan her feelings and finally being able to enjoy the contact with him without feeling guilty about cheating on an another man. The run had helped to clear her mind and release part of the sadness that had been building up since the previous night. She saw the morning ferry going out and her mind went back to the adventure she had with Rowan, what had passed between them and the further steps they had taken in their strange relationship. Her phone buzzed and she noticed a text from Rowan asking her if she was okay. Damn she loved him but he could be overprotective. And you love it. Out for a run. I’ll see u l8r. He didn’t reply and she pocketed the phone. She was walking a bit when the phone buzzed again. Why can’t you use full words? I had to search on Google what l8r meant. And Aelin laughed at his reply. He was somewhat adorable. Grandpa. Was all she said back. Music back in her ears and she went back running. She had purchased music from Peat and Diesel and quite a few songs from Runrig as well and it was quite lovely to run along the streets of Stornoway while listening to a song about the town itself. She had become obsessed with those two groups. She finished her run and went straight for a shower once back at home. She had run for a longer distance than usual and she knew she was going to pay for that very soon. Half an hour later she was clean, wore Rowan’s hoodie and left the house.

As soon as she entered the shop, Rowan’s arms were around her. What the heck? “PDA in the shop? Who are you and what have you done with my Mr Grumpy pants?” She joked while leaning into the embrace. “Are you okay?” She could hear worry in his tone. Why was he being weird? “Yeah.” She replied pulling back from him. “Elias was here this morning.” He confessed. Shit. That explained his behaviour. “Ro, is he still alive?”she demanded looking at him quizzically “I know I have ended things with him but it would be nice to have him alive as a friend.” “We had a chat and he told me the gist of what happened last night.” He looked away and she had a bad feeling “Aelin, if you want him… I will understand.” “I want you.” She finally admitted but he was not looking at her. Why was he being such an idiot? As if what had been happening between them was not a sign where her true feeling lay. “Maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe you should just leave me alone. I am just a book boy after all.” He added, through gritted teeth. “I can’t Rowan.” She moved a step in his direction until she was in front of him. She looked up at him and the pain in his eyes was too much. Was he really willing to give her up? Another step toward him and she was glad that he did not move away from her. Her chest was now brushing his. Her hand searched for his and held it. “Ro, look at me.” And he did. “I made my choice.” Her voice was soft and full of love for him. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on his lips “I want you.” She kissed him again and this time she got a reaction from him. In an instant she felt his arms lift her up and in reply she wrapped her legs around him. He never broke the kiss and they reached a hidden corner of the bookshop where Rowan pinned her against the bookcase. So much for boring. Aelin’s arms had sneaked around his neck and know her fingers were knitted in his hair pushing his face as close as possible to hers. She did not need oxygen. It was overrated anyway. She needed his lips on hers, his hard, beautiful body crushed against hers. Rowan’s mouth followed a path with maddening slowness from the lips, to her jaw and now was very busy nibblink at that amazing spot between neck and shoulder. A moan escaped her and in response his tongue was now tracing the column of her neck. Gods his lips were like heaven. And she was already on fire. When his mouth returned to hers, she fully opened up to him, letting his tongue do devilishly things to her. Heat began to pool at her core and her brain decided to picture that skilful tongue of his on other parts of her body. “Ro…” and Rowan had decided he loved his name on her lips. “Gods you taste amazing.“ His hips pushed her harder against the bookcase and Aelin throw her head back and exposed her neck a bit more. Another push of his hips and Aelin this time she felt him against her abdomen. She was about to point out their location when one of his hands gently palmed her breast and she forgot even her name. The touch was gentle but enough to send her reeling. “Ro…” she called him breathless “We are in the shop and we are open.” He stopped abruptly and it took him a moment to regain control. “I should have kissed you earlier.” She joked, pulling him to her, she was not ready yet to be separated from his body. He looked at her still with a shocked face “I am sorry…’ he ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of confusion. Aelin closed the distance and kissed him again “It was perfect.” Rowan grinned “I have been thinking about it for a while now. What I would do if I would get to kiss you.” He stooped and kissed her again and with his hands he caressed both side of her face. She looked at him and in his eyes she noticed all the love that he finally allowed himself to feel for her. The passion was burning and she ran a hand through his hair never averting his gaze. “I love you, Rowan.” She whispered, almost afraid to say those word too out loud and break the magic they have been sharing. She caressed his cheek and her gaze followed the lines of his beautiful face “I want you. I choose you. I am yours, if you let me.” Rowan was stunned for a moment. She had made her choice and she had chosen him and he was stunned by the fierceness she used to utter them. Then he bolted as if he had awaken all of a sudden from a daze. He ran to the door of the shop, turned the sign to close, locked the door and switched off the lights. He ran back to Aelin and lifted her again and with her completely wrapped around him he walked to his office and placed her sitting on his desk. Aelin did not loose a second and grabbed the back of his neck and closed the distance again, feeling the need of his lips on her again. His hands stroked her back almost reaching her butt, then slowly climbed up to her sides while his thumbs gently brushed the underside of her breasts. He moved between her legs, definitely removing any space between them. Her hands trailed own his body and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it off him then pulled back a little and stared at him. He was stunning and definitely the body of an athlete. A hand splayed open on his chest feeling the shape of his muscles, continuing to his broad shoulders, reaching the behind him and she took him the expanse of his back. His eyes were closed and was clearly enjoying her touch. A finger traced some of the lines of his tattoo, then her mouth and tongue was on his chest. His skin was soft and somehow she could taste his smell of pine and snow. Both hands reached his abdomen feelings his rock stomach below her fingertips. “When we have more time I want to lick every centimetre of you.” And while her mouth restarted the climb to his neck, a hand brushed the top of his jeans in a teasing motions and she felt his shudder. “You are amazing…” and in response his hands knitted in her hair and claimed her mouth again in a desperate need to taste her again. Aelin grabbed her t-shirt and in a swift motion she threw it on the floor with his. He stopped to look at her, and she heard him gasp. Rowan thought she was a goddess. His hand very gently brushed the top of her breasts with the back of it, “you are gorgeous.” In a maddening slow motion, his fingers traced the full shape of them and once he was done, while he palmed one of her mounds he used his thumb to gently lower the fabric of her bra and expose her now hard peaks. His mouth was on it in seconds, sucking and nibbling and Aelin let out a moan and the sound was almost his undoing. “Tha gaol agam ort.” He finally admitted to her while he moved away from her chest and gently climb back up to her mouth. “Tha gaol agam ort.” He repeated a second time. His hand at the back of her neck crushed their mouths together again. “Say it again.” Breathed against his ravenous mouth. “Tha gaol agam ort..” Aelin had an idea she knew what he had just said. It was one the 6things she had looked up. She was planning to surprise him and use the Gaelic but in the end her mind was so occupied with other stuff that she had said the words in English. Aelin looked at him, blue eyes meeting green and she got closer to him again until she felt his hand moved to the front of her jeans. She slightly opened her legs to allow him access and even with the fabric between his fingers and he bare skin it was enough to make her moan loudly and when he applied some pressure on her sensitive spot she thought she was going to crack open. “Rowan…” she begged him. “I love your name on my lips…”his thumb made her jerk and at the same time his mouth went back torturing one of her nipples. “Where…” her brain had disconnected and it was a miracle she remembered her name. Barely “Where else would you like my lips…” she teased him as soon as she was able to utter a full sentence. His only response was a kiss that was seeping mad need for her and she wished they could just cross the last line. He took her hand and brushed against the swell of his trousers. With a wicked finger Aelin traced his length and all she could imagine was him inside her and how he felt. She went to unbutton his jeans but his hand grabbed her wrist and stopped her. “Not in my office. Not like this.This is not right.” He was breathless and his accent all of a sudden was heavier and Aelin thought he sounded even sexier. Aelin glared at him at his remark. “I didn’t mean this,” indicating at the two of them. “I mean this. My office. This was amazing, but what I have in mind does not involve my horrible office and a desk.” And she understood what he meant and smiled at him fondly. Shock hit him when she took both of his hands and placed one each on her breasts “Fine. But just so you know, these are now yours. You can play with them whenever you want. But my two girls here, like to be worshipped.” Rowan roared in laughter “I will do my best to please all of you.” And kissed both of her breasts and then her mouth for emphasis. “And where would you like it to happen?” And it was her time to provoke him. And while she waited for an answer she resumed kissing his wonderful upper body. “A romantic getaway.” He finally said, with his hands back in her hair “We would have a cottage with the fire on. Outside is snowing. And you and I spend the day in bed, doing this, and much, much more.” “Is this a promise?” “Tha.” They made out for another half an hour and then Aelin came up for breath and jumped off the table. “Let’s reopen the shop.” Quickly she grabbed her discarded t-shirt and got dressed again and Rowan did the same. Before leaving Aelin took his hand. “I am all yours, Buzzard.” “To whatever end, Fireheart.” He replied before stealing another kiss.

It was later in the evening when she did manage to meet with Elias. He had been held up at work and he was on his way now but later than expected. She had ordered some food. She was starving and very likely so was he. She was finishing plating the food when the doorbell went off. Quickly she went to the door and opened it. He was standing there in his suit and he was looking stunning as his usual. “Come in.” He removed his shoes and followed her inside “I smell food.” “Yes.” She smiled at him and they finally got to the living room and he noticed the coffee table all set up with a bottle of wine in the middle and the plates full of wonderful food. “We didn’t get to enjoy or dinner last night, so I went to pick up food from the restaurant and tadaaa.” She opened her arms and pointed at the dinner. “You didn’t have to.” “Yes, I did. Plus, talking while enjoying some amazing food is much better.” He sat down on the pillows she had arranged around the table while she took her place on the opposite side. Elias grabbed the bottle of wine and filled their glasses. “To friendship.” He said lifting his glass to her. “To friendship.” She replied clinking her glass against his. “Aelin…” but she stopped him. “No, let me go first.” He nodded and took a bite of his food. “I am sorry. When I moved here I was positive I was done with men and all that. I was not expecting to find myself torn between two wonderful men in such a short time. It was overwhelming and also one of the reasons for my panic attacks.” She explained while tasting her food “before Rowan and I began to become friends I had a thing for you.” Having a whole day to think properly about her explanation had helped “But then things changed. All of a sudden I was drawn to him. If we were in a fantasy book, the author would be calling us soulmates. Of course it’s the real world but still… what I felt and feel for him is… strong. As if his soul resonates with mine.” She stopped and sipped a bit of her wine “please don’t laugh.” Elias shook his head and smiled “I am not. And I think it’s a good description.” And took another bite of his food “Fine. I am a hopeless romantic. I love a good mushy story.” Aelin laughed then her expression turned serious again “What I meant is that I didn’t intend to cause all this. I had no intention of misleading you or hurt you. I was just confused and I was not sure if Rowan returned the feelings. And I am sorry.” He place a hand on hers “Stop apologising.” He told her tenderly “I can’t say that it doesn’t hurt. Because it does. A lot. But hey, I am the guy who laughs at his own divorce, it will pass.” He grabbed some fries and dipped them in ketchup “All I want you to know is that I care about you. You are incredible and you kinda stole my heart that day on the beach. But at least I know that you are dumping me because you really love the other guy and not because he makes more money than me.” And the two of them laughed at the joke. He really loved to make fun of his divorce and she wondered when she would reach that stage when Chaol’s betrayal would stop stinging. “You are amazing, intelligent and caring. I loved every single moment I spent with you. I had fun. A lot. You made me feel welcome in a brand new place and I am so grateful.” She looked in his eyes “you looked after me after my panic attack and made me super sweet chamomile tea.” She squeezed his hand back “I am grateful and I treasure every moment we had together.” “More wine?” He asked. “Yes, please.” She offered him her glass to be refilled “Dinner was wonderful. I am glad we did manage to eat. Last night I was also pissed that I did not get to finish my wonderful meal.” “That place really does wonderful food and I love the fact that the fish they use is whatever gets landed in the morning.” “I was in Lochinver and I tried the famous pies.” “You went to the Larder. That place is an institution. Every time I go north and pass Lochinver I always stop for lunch and on my way back I stop and I stock up in pies.” Aelin smiled and was happy that they were talking normally again. She had not liked the drama from the night before. He did not deserve her hate. “Elias?” “Yes?” “What does mo chridhe mean?” He spoke Gaelic, she could ask him. “It’s a term of endearment. It means my heart.” Aelin’s heart raced and her mind went back to the moment Rowan had used it with her. “Why?” “I just…” she had to lie now “I heard a mum tell it to her kid and I was just wondering. That’s all.” “My mum still uses it with my father. They have been married for a very long time and they are still madly in love. I think it’s their fault if I am such a hopeless romantic.” Aelin grinned while he finished polishing off his plate. She was sure one day he would make a woman very happy. He was a wonderful man. They chatted over wine and now empty plates for a while longer, then Elias stood. “Hey, it’s getting quite late and I have work again tomorrow and I had a very long day. Do you mind if I get back home, I have a bit of a drive.” He explained and started moving to the door. Aelin followed him “No, no absolutely.” Then she took his hand “Thank you for tonight, for understanding. For everything.” He moved a step closer to her and his hand cupped he cheek “I would have loved to be the one you chose, but truth is, I just want you happy. Even if it’s not with me.” He closed the distance and his arm went around her waist “But it would have hurt even more to know that you were with me and not happy.” His other hand brushed her hair behind her ear. His thumb traced her lips “You have an amazing smile and I want to imagine that he can make you laugh more than I possibly could.” He kissed her forehead “Are you happy with him?” “Yeah.” Aelin’s voice was barely audible. He pulled her to him and held her tightly and Aelin hid her face in his neck “Don’t feel guilty. It’s not that we are adding another divorce to our list.” He added as a joke. She pulled back and laughed an he did the same. “In a fantasy book I would probably be the first love interest that ends up dying tragically.” She gave him a smile “Or you can be the kind of guy who is the loyal friend. The main female character finds her true mate but she can’t let the first man go, so they build a strong friendship.” “I would love that, so very much.” This time it was her turn to brush her hand through his hair “You are a wonderful man, Elias. I truly think so.” “And you can text me while you are reading books.” She said to him “Good, because now you have me hooked on some cool stuff and I need someone to talk about it and none of my friends and colleagues are into books.” “What are you reading?” “I started The cursed kingdom last night. I spent today at work thinking about it and I blame you, young lady.” Aelin laughed “that is a good one. Just…. Have wine ready.” “Will do. Now if you’ll excuse m’lady, I have a hot date with a my bed.” She opened the door but stopped. “Elias…” “We are good, Aelin. I promise.” He took her hand in his and kissed it. Then waved her goodbye and got into his car. Aelin stood in the doorway until his car disappeared in the traffic, then closed the door and go back inside.

She grabbed her phone and texted Rowan. I am yours, mo chridhe. A moment later came his reply. Tha gaol agam ort.

#rowaelin #rowan x aelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #fluff #angst #fanfic #throne of glass series

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ashleyswrittenwords · 4 years

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Whumptober No.5

Where Do You Think You’re Going? (On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue)

Series Summary: After Calamity Ganon awakens, Zelda is left alone and heartbroken. Now something horrible has happened to Link and no more is she merely tasked with fighting the Calamity - but also what is left of her knight.

Growing up, everyone was taught about the inevitable prophecy.

Esme knew as much as anyone did that 10,000 years ago a fabled princess and her hero fought against a dreaded evil, ultimately bringing peace to Hyrule. It was a tale told in primary school alongside the common alphabet. As a young girl, she nearly obsessed over the prophecy – reading legends and mythos to find similar themes that all led back to a girl with the blood of Hylia and a boy blessed with Her sword.

So, when it was decreed by the historians that the ancient evil would soon break from its seal Esme was not afraid. She knew their crown princess was the goddess’s descendent just as the many princesses before her. Esme had grown from a girl and into a young woman and with that, she found love and bore a family. Still, with so much at stake now, she wasn’t afraid because by the time her daughter was born, they had found the boy who will wield the sword that seals the darkness.

It seemed that everything was falling into place.

Her hometown, just west of Castle Town, was evacuated in preparation for Calamity Ganon. Her husband refused to leave as this was his father’s home and so she left with her children to the outstretches of Hyrule.

Naturally, the Calamity resurfaced and with it was destruction.

News traveled relatively fast. The events that were meant to happen fell out of place. The princess did awaken her power; however, it was too late. Her knight had died at Fort Hateno while they were fleeing from Calamity Ganon. As she was meant to, Princess Zelda was able to fight back against the Calamity’s adversaries even though the time in between had collapsed their current monarchy and resulted in a stand still.

With no hero, who was going to slay the darkness?

It had been nearly a full year since the Calamity overshadowed them. Hyrule was experiencing one of its coldest winters on record and Esme hadn’t seen her husband in months. The only acknowledgement of his whereabouts came from the men who visited their wives or the housewives that have returned to their settlement. It was grueling to be away from him, but she knew he was alive and her two young children were safer away from where Calamity Ganon was the strongest.

Esme also knew her husband wanted to protect their little farmhouse for as long as possible, but it was unforeseeable how long that demon would hold reign over Hyrule. And, of course, she missed him. Their family was alive and well. Without him it only felt incomplete and if she had to drag that man from that house, then so be it.

Perhaps it wasn’t the wisest to leave in the dead of winter. The thought occurred to her as she began trekking east. Her children were safe with her parents and in-laws, so she knew they would be well-cared for. Hylia had blessed them with being so close to Rito Village and the inhabitants were more than generous with supplying them foodstuffs and winter gear. Because of this, Esme told herself she would endure.

Hylians weren’t the only ones that hated the cold, according to her many tomes on Hylian legends, the monsters were adverse to these conditions. So, yes, should she not run into anything particularly difficult – Esme would endure.

She took her old horse east without a hitch. It was true that there was an influx in monsters. They tended to watch her from far away, not willing to chase after one woman. If anything, they were disinterested in her and if she weren’t as smart as she was, Esme would’ve been slightly offended.

Families didn’t stay in her little village, especially in the months following the Calamity. Those that stuck with her stubborn husband were other men and the elder families whose children were already grown.

When she arrived, Esme didn’t see one person on the roads. The sun was setting over the horizon and beyond the windmill of their village was Hyrule Castle in the distance. When prior she had felt blessed to have such a view, it now felt like an awful reminder of what they lost. Their village was modest, but it had never been so quiet.

Winter or not, one of the major roads passed through here and there was always something happening. Mr. Hutchinson would have his world-famous bread baking every morning, his wife just as busy with winter treats. The children here were always so active in the snow. They never tired of their games and would dress up every year to sneak ale from the midwinter festival. (They never succeeded when Esme was around, but sometimes she would overlook the older teens because she was young enough to remember how it feels to yearn for adulthood.)

Mrs. Hutchinson opened her door the moment Esme rode into town. Her wrinkles had deepened and the stress had worn her features. They embraced briefly.

“I saw your old man just the other day,” she had said. “There aren’t many that have stayed, but he’s been beyond helpful.”

Esme scowled at that, “He should be with his family. Just like you and your husband.”

The baker’s wife sighed, “With the raids happening all around this place… you’re right, we should. The timing just hasn’t been the best.”

In response, Esme should have asked what she meant. She didn’t. Instead, she was all too eager to see her partner. Not a moment longer she had bid Mrs. Hutchinson goodbye and promised she’d stop by after wrangling her own husband into leaving.

At the end of the road was her home. It was still standing in one piece with the stable beside it empty. With a gentle voice, she left her horse in the open field in front of her home. She’d properly feed and stable him once she saw her husband.

The door creaked open under her fingertips and she shivered from the sudden shelter from the wind. The fireplace was out, however the embers were glowing and the house looked properly lived in. The lock to the door clattered shut. She unwound the Rito scarf from her shoulders and set it on the coat rack, shedding her first layer of clothes with it. The living space had a set of dishes atop a table, a hearth on the far wall, and a small kitchenette that Esme had always adored.

He wasn’t home, evident from the empty space on the coat rack, but she popped in front of their mirror anyway. Her hands went to smooth down her hair, combing down her pale locks after two days of riding. Her eyes held extra lines she hadn’t noticed before now.

A thought snuck into her head and she cursed herself for her vanity.

“Ben?” she called out, turning slightly to glance at the stairs that disappeared to the upper floor. There wasn’t an answer, so she turned back with a crease in her brow. The emptiness bothered her more than she’d ever admit to him.

He’d tease her about missing him. She’d bully him into confessing that he missed her too.

Esme turned fully away from the mirror and bounded up the steps, calling out again, “Benji?”

It was darker upstairs. She passed the kids’ room and peered into her own. The sheets on their bed were mussed, the workmanship of a man whose heart was only half into the task. That, too, was empty.

She resigned to looking out their bedroom window over the snow-covered cabbage field. They didn’t make much money by farming. Her husband had once done reservation work in the Royal Guard before leaving prior to the Calamity. Even if she believed it was all going to work out, she didn’t want him in danger. Esme knew how guilty he felt, but they weren’t as young as they used to be – only living for each other. They had two more little lives to support, and she wasn’t sure she could do it without him.

Dusk had fallen over the town when she heard a loud bang coming from the village. The picture frames on the walls shook before ebbing back into place. Esme’s heart stuttered in her chest and she pressed her cheek flush to glass to find the source of the loud sound. Her hands launched herself from the windowsill and she bounded down the stairs. Her scarf tangled with the coat rack so she left it a flurry of motions to open the door.

From the entrance of her house were a varied array of screams emanating from the center of town. Smoke rose steadily into the air, illuminated ominously by fire. Esme tried to hold down her horse, but he was already spooked and shirked away from her touch.

Esme did the second best thing, she began running. The air was colder than before and it pinched her cheeks as she reached the road. On her way out, a stocky man she recognized was running her way.

“Esme, gods, what are you doing here?” he huffed out a breath, his hands placed tactfully on his knees. He was the butcher’s apprentice, no doubt staying to safeguard the butcher shop.

“I came for Ben,” she glanced at the direction he came from with concern. “What’s happening?! Are we being robbed?”

“Monsters. A lot of monsters. They’ve been going around raiding villages for food instead of finding it on their own,” he frowned. “You should flee. Come on.”

He went for her arm, but she tore it away. “What about the Hutchinsons? Are you just leaving them?”

He glared at the accusations, “It’s too late!”

She held in her disbelief, again starting down the road.

“Esme, stop! It isn’t just the monsters!”

It didn’t matter. It was beyond awful to leave an elderly couple to fend for themselves. Hopefully he was the only one to abandon them.

The fires roared over the town square and were already spreading towards the bakery. It looked like they started at the general store. Esme reached the bakery entrance, pulling at the door and pounded for them to open up. The porch to the general store creaked to a slump before falling completely into charred smoke. She hacked on a throatful of it and stumbling from the bakery front.

Her name found her ears and she saw a crouched form slumped against the building. Esme’s sight adjusted and she stumbled over.

“Margaret! Are you- Hylia above,” Esme choked on her words and held her hands in front of her month.

Mrs. Hutchinson looked up at her mournfully, tears in her eyes, then looked back down at her husband. He was limp in her arms and stared with unseeing eyes. Sweet Mr. Hutchinson was dead and surrounded by a puddle of his own blood.

Mrs. Hutchinson sniffed and spoke through watery words, “You should leave, Esme. Those monsters…”

She heard them. A bokoblin snort coming from the other side of the wall, then a crash. They were rummaging for food.

“Come on,” Esme began, ignoring the bile forming in her throat to help Margaret to a stand. The women was hesitant at first.

“But…” she motioned to her husband.

Esme found her eyes, “He’d want you to live. Let’s go.”

Her hands shook with uncertainty, but she willed it not to appear on her face. If she could get this woman to her horse then they could start west. The search for her own husband would have to wait, even if the thought of his fate made her heart ache horribly.

Another crash was heard and across the square was a shout of anger.

“Burn it all, damn it!”

It was so loud that Esme stopped in her tracks. Across the square passed the town well was a man in front of the mayor’s broken-in door. She had half a mind to call out for help until his mannerisms sunk in. A blue moblin knelt before him… groveling at his feet. The man brought a swift kick to its head, glaring down at the thing.

“Animals. The lot of you. I want it to the ground. Do you hear me?! You’re not here to scavenge!”

Esme expected the moblin to rear up and attack the idiot, but he only made a noise of pain and slunk backward. She began to think that this idiot wasn’t an idiot after all.

Anger welled in her chest, but she wasn’t reckless. She wouldn’t be. The man turned to them, bright yellow eyes against the darkness. His motions stuttered for a few seconds, enough time to tell Margaret that her horse was waiting at the farmhouse.

He began walking towards them. A nondescript expression forming on his face.

“What about you? I’ll ride this way,” Mrs. Hutchinson whispered harshly, already backing away at the sight.

“No,” Esme said immediately. “No, you leave first thing. I’ll find another way.”

The woman ran off, leaving Esme to glower in the man’s direction. She shouted, hoping to seem indignant instead of startled. If she distracted him then maybe he wouldn’t care to go after her friend.

“What are you doing to my town?”

He was still fairly far away, but she could see the unnaturalness in his movements. His sword in his hand… Esme stumbled back. Blood, red and recent dripped from the tip.

She took a step back and he tilted his head, watching her curiously. “Your town?”

Esme held in a gasp. She knew that face. “I-I thought… I thought it wasn’t true…” she breathed out.

Even with the fire illuminating from behind him, it was unmistakable. She had taken her family to Castle Town to see one of the many military parades and festivities the king threw to keep public morale high. The Champions were a staple, famous. Esme could spot the Hylian Champion easily in a crowd.

But she made a mistake – her voice wavered. His steps grew faster and she staggered back before falling into a run. The fire had spread further, wicking up from the rooves. Rich laughter followed her, echoing off the walls as she ran past the bakery.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

A yelp escaped her as she tripped over Mr. Hutchinson’s dead body. Her leg twisted awkwardly, but she scrambled up anyway. The short alleyway led to a brick way where the bakery furnaces were along with a storage area for the general store. Esme bypassed these too, cursing herself for not taking another avenue.

With the town cut out of the hills, the back alleys were sloped and craggy where infrastructure wasn’t held as a priority. It was often that snow was left undug. Her ankle pulsed red and gave out under her weight once the snow grew too high.

Esme cursed bitterly, scraping by her hands and knees until even that was pointless.

The princess’s knight had loud boots. They were thick and distinctly of military garb. The rest of it wasn’t. He wore a common coat, but peaking out was a Hylian royal blue. In his grip was a broadsword, drawn and ready.

“Please!” she began, her voice taunt. “I-I have children waiting for me.”

In a blink, things were slightly different. He blinked down at her with a blankness and when he kneeled before her, she winced and pulled away as far as she possibly could. When she opened her eyes, she saw normalcy in his. A cobalt, brilliant and beautiful.

The knight brought a hand to her bangs and smoothed them back. It was a gentle gesture. Her hair threaded through his fingers.

“Your hair is the wrong shade,” he said absently, as if disappointed. “And your eyes are the wrong color.”

Esme went to speak but as soon as she did a piercing sound flew through the air and an arrow burrowed into the knight’s shoulder. The force propelled him backward and he made a sharp sound. It happened quick. He rolled into a stance, but then her view of him was obstructed by another.

The woman turned to meet her eyes and gave a minute signal to leave. Her blonde hair was braided back tightly and in her hands was a bow with an arrow readied on the string. The quiver strapped to her back jostled when she faced the knight once more.

“I was wondering when you would show up,” he grunted, Esme heard the snap of wood.

“What do you have to gain by doing this?” she sneered. She stood readily; her thick clothes clear that she was expecting a fight.

Esme shuffled in the snow to get off the ground, but with her injury her getaway was slow.

“You never come out to see me,” he said, a grin was audible. “What else was I to do? Oh… are you going to kill me?”

The knight was referencing the woman’s bow. Esme held in a gasp as the arrowhead shown with bright light. The fingerless gloves she wore readjusted on the bow.

That must be…

From Esme’s position, she could see the broadsword loosen in his grip then falling to the dirty snow altogether.

“Was my sword not enough for you? We both know you can wield it now, but – no – you choose another weapon. I should be insulted,” his humor was palpable. “How poetic would it be to be struck down by something so dear to me?”

“Shut up,” Princess Zelda said through gritted teeth. “Pick up your sword.”

He sighed heavily, falling to his knees in a grandiose slump. “I suppose my charge will do.”

“Link.”

“Death is only good when it’s swift.”

“Link!”

Esme watched as he just barely made eye contact with her. Back was that cat-eye yellow. She opened her mouth to yell out a warning but Zelda had already loosened the tenseness of her string.

In one motion, Link gathered the hilt of his sword in one hand and sprung towards the princess. Her reflexes acted quickly, attempting to parry with the bow’s neck. She braced herself, becoming easily overpowered by the man’s weight and twisted away from him quickly. She drew the sword at her hip in time for his follow through. Steel clashed against steel.

A hand on Esme’s shoulder startled her. She met the amber-red eyes of a Sheikah who tried her best to express that she wasn’t in danger.

“Please, come with me.”

Esme wanted to argue in favor of helping the princess.

“We can only leave him to her. Quickly now.”

At that, she acquiesced and took the woman’s hand. Ducking through a series of alleyways, the Sheikah seemed to know this town better than Esme did. Finally at the town square, she led her to a pair wearing traditional garb. Their faces were covered, but when they saw the woman leading her, they stood.

“Let us go inside,” the smaller of the two said, she took her hand gingerly and Esme turned to thank the one that found her, she was gone.

“Always in a hurry,” she tsked. Her hair was cut to her shoulders and despite her stature, she had no problem carrying Esme inside the house. The fire of before seemed dampened now.

“They must have found him,” the man exasperated, following them inside. “Did you even scout the area? What about those bokolins?”

She gasped at the accusation, wriggling her mask down to glare with full effect. “Um, yes, Robbie. I did. I sent those little soldier boys over.”

Robbie scoffed.

“My name is Purah,” she said with a smile a little too bright and motioned for her to sit. They were in a hallway where a skinny bench sat. Immediately, she saw a dampened Mrs. Hutchinson sitting on the same bench.

“Margaret!” Esme smiled. “You’re safe.”

Purah raised a brow, “Oh good you know one another. The ankle, is it?”

In response, she nodded.

“Are you well, dear?” Mrs. Hutchinson said, enveloping Esme’s hand in hers.

She sobered up, remembering sharply that this woman’s husband was dead. “I am. Thank you. I believe the princess saved me.”

The woman blinked, “Princess Zelda? I found her and her group on the way to your farm.”

“How miraculous,” Esme winced as Purah rotated her ankle.

“Pardon,” she said under thick glasses. “I may be a doctor but my medicine for alive things is a bit rough.”

As Purah examined her ankle, the Sheikah woman of before returned with the princess beside her. Through the small window, Esme watched as they were chattering together and only stopping when a group of men returned with reports. There were at least a dozen men and women, all carrying some sort of weaponry, scurrying through the village either looking through debris or taking the remaining monsters.

The princess’s clothes were slightly more disheveled , but before she could examine further Esme’s thoughts were cut off.

Purah sniffed, “Sprained – probably. According to my calculations, I’m pretty sure.”

“Not that confident, it seems.”

“Robbie, shush!”

Attempting to put weight on it, Esme stood and braced the wall. It wasn’t as bad as she expected.

Robbie opened the door for her and when she hobbled down the steps, she caught Zelda’s attention.

“Your Highness-”

At that, she shot up from the conversation she was in.

“Just Zelda,” she remediated, softening the hurry in her speech. “Please. Did he hurt you?”

Esme bit the inside of her lip. “No, I fell… though I was convinced he would. Thank you.”

“He most likely would have,” the Sheikah woman beside the princess muttered.

Zelda politely acknowledged her before smiling graciously at Esme. “Of course.”

There was a sharp tear through one of Zelda’s sleeves with the faint trace of red. She didn’t seem bothered by it. Purah went about looking at it with a gruff series of mumbling.

“You really should be evacuated,” Zelda spoke up again. “This area is only miles from Castle Town. The creatures here are stronger.”

“Forgive me but… I didn’t know it was true. The hero,” Esme swallowed her nerves. “He’s….”

Purah’s chattering stopped and even the soldiers’ side conversation settled to silence. The group came to a standstill. The only sound came from several men working on outing the fires.

Zelda worried her lip between her teeth. “It happened during the Calamity. We think that somehow Calamity Ganon infected his body with Malice. I’m unsure what it amounts to…”

The Sheikah woman put a hand on her shoulder when she trailed off. Her voice was cool, prepared, “He is the Calamity Ganon’s adversary now. We’re in the midst of stopping him.”

So, the tales were true. And like that, the Sheikah commenced once more into delivering orders to the men and women putting out the fire. Zelda met her eyes with a subdued smile, “Again, I implore you to take as many people to the evacuation zones. They’re the same as planned prior to Calamity Ganon. Do you need a guide?”

“No, actually, I’ve come from the settlement near Rito Village. I’m looking for my husband.” Hope flooded Esme’s breast. “His name is Benji Feidelm.”

Slight confusion screwed the princess’s lips together until her face slacked slightly, she turned to Robbie and asked a soft question. He nodded and walked away towards the smoking buildings.

“He’s been a fantastic help,” she smiled again.

Only moments later, cheeks marred with soot, she saw him. His hair was that same mussy brown that she’d grown to love so much. Ben’s eyes met hers, widened, then ran up to wrap his arms around her. Her feet left the ground while in his embrace and she couldn’t help but laugh as tears escaped her eyes.

When he put her down, she punched him squarely in the shoulder.

The princess watched kindly but left soon after.

Eventually, the commotion died down to make camp in the village square. Benji and Esme insisted that their farmhouse be used, but the group who followed the princess refused in place for the tents they packed. They hadn’t been soldiers’ after all, well, not all of them. As Benji had explained, they were people who were willing to thwart Ganon in any way they could – no matter how menial.

Zelda placed a hand on her arm, partially steering her away from the campfire songs.

“I’m sorry,” she lowered her voice and glanced behind her at Impa, who was caught in an argument between Purah and Robbie. “But was Link telling you something? Before I intervened?”

Esme searched her, taking in the slight glimmer in her green eyes. She was a beautiful girl, but it wouldn’t be so surprising. She was the Princess of Hyrule. As she waited, there was intelligence within her, guiding her.

“I wish I knew what he meant. He said that my hair and eyes were the wrong colors,” she frowned at the short-sighted answer. Esme was smart. She’d fallen in love with the legends of heroes and princesses. They were a staple story in her family, so she had an inkling of an answer. “I believe he was looking for you.”

Briefly, Zelda’s face softened. Her brows knitted together and her eyes grew. Esme reached for her, as any woman would to comfort another, but she had already regrouped. Her jaw set and she added a plastic smile.

“I see, thank you.”

Esme watched her leave the square altogether.

#IM LATE I KNOW #im busy man #whumptober2020 #no.5 #failed escape #loz #tw blood #tw death #legend of zelda #corrupted!link #zelda #link #zelink

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

I Found -Chapter 21

Warnings: nothing really. Mentions of blood and gun violence I guess

Tagging: @valkyrie-of-the-light @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @alievans007

She arrives in Dhaka shortly before ten in the morning and takes a taxi to the hustle and bustle of the downtown market area. Her escape from the Mahajan home had gone much easier than she'd anticipated; the challenging part having to somehow slip from underneath the weight of Tyler's arm in an effort to sneak out of the bed. When he did manage to rest, he was a notoriously light sleeper; awakening at the slightest of noises or the smallest hint of trouble. That morning he'd been resting heavier than normal. On his stomach with his arm draped over her, snoring louder than she'd ever heard him. And her heart had nearly leapt clear out of his chest when he stirred, mumbling incoherently but never awakening.

From there on out, things had been simple. Catching the overnight guards on a joint coffee break out by the pool; laughing and chatting and paying absolutely no attention to what was going on around them. She'd been able to pinch the keys to the rental off the kitchen counter where her husband had left them the night before, along with an extra loaded Glock revolver he kept store in a lock box on a shelf in the master bedroom closet; freshly cleaned and holding a full magazine.

She once again considered telling him; shaking him awake and announcing that she was heading to Dhaka. That if he wanted to come along so be it, but she wasn't going to let him stop her. His resistance would have been legendary, especially now that they knew she was indeed pregnant. And she knew his already overwhelming need to protect her would become even more so. He saw it in the same way as he did the job; she and Amelia were his priorities and responsibility and failure was simply not an option.

So she let him sleep.

The market is just as she remembers; sights, smells, sounds. The dirty streets and derelict buildings, the scent of diesel gas and strong coffee hanging in the air, the chatter and laughter of pedestrians and the blaring of horns and humming of engines. She stands across the street from the hotel that they had stayed at a year ago; run down and in disarray, faded paint and cracked mortar, crumbling balconies with missing railings. She can see the patio that had belonged to them; on the third floor, a heavy wool rung over over the wrought iron balcony railing and two simple plastic patio chairs tipped on their sides. Every morning they'd sit out there. Sipping strong coffee and filling their bellies with whatever Tyler had been able to grab that morning. Sometimes they'd simply people watch and make commentary on what was happening on the street below. Other mornings they'd be painstakingly surveying the crowds and sharing notes on anything and anyone that seemed even remotely suspicious.

Most of the time however, they would just engage in small talk. Those little yet entirely eye opening conversations that take place between couples when they're just in the 'getting to know you' stage. Sure, they had quickly come realize what they both liked and enjoyed in bed, but they still very much needed to see if they clicked outside of a tangled mess of sweaty limbs and rumpled sheets.

Her feelings are mixed. It is both enlightening and disheartening to be back in Dhaka, where she'd fallen in love with the man she now called her husband. Where she'd been made to feel alive again; deserving of love and adoration, respect and worship. She had long ago forgotten what it had felt like to be in love; the butterflies in your stomach, the way your heart began to race when they so as much smiled at you, those jolts of electricity that passed between the two of you every time you touched or kissed.

She had thought she'd never experience those again; she had a failed marriage, an abusive narcissistic ex under her belt, a job that she enjoyed and could not see herself walking away from. She had no more trust left. No faith.

And then she'd walked into that shack in the Australian outback.

It is bittersweet. The good memories and the horribly bad co-mingling. And she forces herself to walk away, not allowing her emotions to get the better of her. She needed to keep her head on straight. She needed clear thinking and her instincts to steer her through those busy and often violent streets. And she needed to hold onto that overwhelming need to revenge. To see things through to the end of the line. Nik hadn't been able to finish things off a year ago. But she was determined to.

She grabs a herbal tea in hopes of soothing her queasy stomach; nerves and anticipation not mixing well with ferocious morning sickness. She'd had to take three Dramamine tablets just to make it through the short flight. She promises herself that when this is all over, she'll go back to the things that helped her get through the first pregnancy: proper diet and sleep, a psychologically healthy way of coping with stress. If she could get through the first one despite all of the angst surrounding her, she could get through anything.

She wanders the market to kill time. Talking to the vendors and browsing their wares, attempting to drive away any suspicion as to why someone like her would be in a place like that. Especially alone. She hides her eyes under the brim of a baseball cap but they are always watching. Casually observing the people around her. Some of the locals watch her intently; perhaps recognizing her face yet unable to place where and how they actually know it. And she gets friendly smiles and pleasant hellos, readily welcomed into the area.

It is so easy. It always has been. Blending in in order to to garner valuable information had been her specialty when she was still on the job. Able to gain peoples' trust, casually asking all the right questions without seeming overly interested. The people in the market had taken to her. Taken to them. A young, attractive newlywed couple who'd forgone a traditional honeymoon in favour of outreach work. The premise had seemed wild and far fetched when Nik had pitched it. But it had worked.

A little too well.

Her cell phone vibrates in the front pocket of her shorts. Another frantic and downright furious text message sent on Tyler's behalf. He's been calling and texting non stop since he'd woken up and found out that not only she was missing, but also the keys to the rental and one of his weapons. He's worried. Pissed off. The texts a and voicemails a mixture of of him worrying about if she's okay and demanding to know where she is, and angry please for her to just call him back. She feels guilty as she stands there, staring down at the last message he'd sent. Knowing the rage that he must be in; anger and worry are powerful combination. And her fingers linger on the screen, attempting to come up with a suitable reply. She should at least tell him that she's okay. That she'll be home by night fall and he doesn't need to worry. But when the phone rings in her and his cell number pops up on the screen, she hesitates. Thumb over the green talk icon.

She opts to send it to voicemail instead.

***

He knew something was wrong the moment he awoke. Torn from an unusually deep and peaceful sleep by the baby's shrill, incessant crying and one of the maids pounding on the door and asking if everything was okay. He hadn't had a sound sleep like that in years; his senses and instincts always running on high.

Esme would never leave the baby to cry; believing that you could never spoil a child, especially an infant, with too much attention and cuddles. So when he'd bolted up in bed and saw that her place beside him was empty, he lost it. A combination of rage and worry driving him through the roof. Attempting to stay calm for his daughter that so desperately needed him and failing miserably; relinquishing all care to the now visibly frazzled nanny.

His brain immediately switches to auto pilot; propelling him through the room, searching for clues as to where she's wandered off to. Her purse is missing. The pyjamas she'd worn to bed discarded in the hamper in the en-suite bathroom. And then he sees it: the closet door ajar. He knows. He just knows. Storming across the room and throwing the door open and grabbing the lock box on the shelf.

It's empty. The lock picked.

His first reaction is absolute rage. At her, at the guards for completely fucking up and being so oblivious to what was going around them that they didn't even her sneak out. How does someone get away that fast? Stealing both a gun and a car without anyone noticing? And he's pissed that she won't return any of his calls or texts. Rage and frustration growing with each passing second.

Worry comes next. That maybe the first anniversary of his near death experience has pushed her over the edge. And it's then that he begins to slowly piece if all together: the freak out that she'd had back home when she'd seen Farhad's picture. Her incessant, almost obsessive need for revenge. How she'd talked about wanting to go back to the bridge. The one place she felt as if she could finally let go of the past and move on.

He calls the one person he knows can help.

“Where the fuck is my wife, Nik?” he doesn't even give her a chance to say hello of give her trademark 'talk to me'.

“Your wife? What are you talking about? What...?”

“I woke up and she was gone. You were worried that I'd be the one taking off? My wife is missing, Nik. She's gone. And she stole my gun and my car and I have no fucking clue where she is.”

Silence from the other end.

“Don't even try and bullshit me, Nik. I know that you know. There's no way she thought of this all on her own and the only other person she trusts other than me, is you. Where is she?”

“I honestly never thought it would come to this,” she admits. “I thought she'd just move on. Let it go.”

“What are you talking about? What...?”

“She wanted me to find the kid that shot you. Farhad. She wanted me to track him down and arrange a meeting with him. At first I went along with it...”

“What the fuck, Nik...” he closes his eyes and releasing a long, shaky sigh. “Why? Why the hell would you agree to that?”

“I changed my mind. I started dragging my heels. Making excuses. Hoping she'd just let it go.”

“Well obviously she hasn't. And she's obviously got someone else helping her.”

“I think it's Jason. He asked for some personal time. I became suspicious and had Yaz track his cell . It says he's somewhere in Bangladesh. We have no idea of his exact location.”

There's the rage again. Accompanied by so much more. Worry. Frustration. The burn of bile in his throat.

“Tyler?”

“I need to you to get me a flight to Dhaka. Right now.”

“Tyler, I don't think...”

“I don't give a shit what you think. I don't care what strings you have to pull or how many asses you have to kiss. Get me a flight.”

“I need a little time. I...”

'Now Nik,” he orders, and disconnects the call.

****

“Hey, I remember you!” a cheerful voice calls from across the street. “The wife!”

Esme is surprised to see him after all this time, still tucked away on a small side street away from the hustle and bustle of the main market. The vendor that that sold Tyler the bracelet that she'd wandered away to admire. A simple piece of jewellery becoming the catalyst for so much more.

“I'm surprised you even remember me,” she says. “What with wearing a hat and all.”

“I never forget a pretty face. Or such a sweet smile. It's been a long time, friend.”

“A whole year,” she confirms, returning the hug that he offers. “You've been well?”

“I have. Things have been busy, busy. You still have the bracelet?” he nods down at her left wrist, a prideful smile spreading from ear to ear. “Looks as good as new!”

“The clasp broke and my husband fixed it for me.”

“Ahhh...the husband...nice guy..very tall...very strong...where is he? He here?”

“Off doing his own thing,” she lies, and immediately feels guilty for it. “We have a baby now. A little girl. Amelia,” she produces her cell phone from the pocket on her shorts, once again ignoring the dozens of text messages that she's received in the past ten minutes alone. Instead, she brings up a photo on the phone and holds it out to out to him. Their first ever family picture; Amelia a mere ten days old, in her father's arm in a white eyelet sundress, the three of them sitting in the sand. Barefoot. Tanned. Smiling.

It seems like a lifetime ago.

“She's beautiful!” he gushes. “Like her mother. But definitely looks like her father. How have you been? Good? Everyone is fine? You just disappeared last year. Out of thin air. I just stopped seeing you one day. We had some trouble here. Right after you left. Between those drug people that we talked about last time you were here. And some white fellow. There was a big shoot out out on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. Did you hear about it?”

“I heard a few things,” she says. Not feeling the need to tell him that she'd been right in the damn middle of it. “Do you still have your ear to the ground? Is there anything new going on?”

“Trouble,” he throws up his hands in exasperation. “Always trouble.”

She browses his various items as she speaks. “What kind?”

“Some white fellow is in town. Not your white fellow, though. He's been asking a lot of questions. Wanting to know about one of the street kids.”

Jason.

“I thought maybe he was here to cause trouble. Or take the kid away. But they already seemed to know each other. Like they weren't strangers when they met. They were on a first name basis.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You don't think this white guy was just playing nice to get something he wanted?”

“Perhaps. But it didn't seem that way. I'm very good at reading people. And I could read him well. They knew each other. No doubt in my mind. Very casual when they spoke. Not angry. Or in a hurry. Just like old friends.”

Her stomach clenches. And she has to force the vomit down.

“Why you ask?”

She manages a smile. “Just curious. Is there anything else? Did you see anything? Hear what they were talking about?”

“Just that they left together. Yesterday. From the hotel up the street. The one you stayed at last year. I never saw them again. You know them?”

“The white fellow is a colleague of mine. Or at least I thought he was.”

She selects a child's size bracelet for the baby and produces her wallet from her bag; removing two twenties and holding them out in offering. Too much money for the jewellery, yet not enough for the information he'd given her.

That was invaluable.

“Thank you,” she says, as she drops the wallet and bracelet into her bag. “I honestly can't thank you enough. I have to go. There's some things I need to do.”

“It was nice seeing you!” he calls after her. “Tell your husband to stop by. Nice guy he is!”

Esme gives a small wave in farewell, then disappears into the crowd.

****

The hotel manager gives her an extra key with little more than twenty bucks and a brief description of who she is looking for. And she waits outside of the door, straining her ears for any kind of life inside. The creak of footsteps on the rickety, bowed floor, the sound of the shower running through this ancient pipes.

Silence.

She lets herself into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. In case a quick getaway is needed and there's no fumbling with knobs and hinges. The room is tiny; much smaller than the one that she and Tyler had shared a year ago in this very building. Sunlight streams through the window, highlighting the particles of dust that hang and float in the air. Like the rest of the hotel's rooms and the building itself, it is a complete dive: the hardwood floors scuffed and decaying, various stains marring the walls, water marks on the once white stucco ceiling; crude patches of plaster covering where work had been done to fix a leak.

Like the room she'd stayed in, the linens on the bed are fresh and new. A crisp white that makes the damage and filth around it even more noticeable.

She snoops. Going through cupboards in the tiny kitchenette. Rummaging through silverware drawers, cupboards full of chipped mugs and plates. Not knowing exactly what is she's looking for, but letting her logic and instincts guide her; the old aspects of the job quickly returning and filling her with much needed confidence and courage. There's a coffee cup in the sink; water and soon to dissolved dish soap filling it to the brim, a sponge floating in the midst.

He's been gone a while.

She moves into the combined bedroom and living area next. Leafing through pamphlets, two days worth of newspapers, and discarded sheets of writing paper. Still nothing. Placing her hands on her hips she takes a step back to get a look at the room. It is surprisingly tidy considering the actual state of the building. The patio door has been left open a crack; allowing the dirt and debris from the busy street below to trickle into the room. The air is hot and heavy. Suffocating. And the sweat has already begun to gather at her hairline and across her brow.

The bed is made, sheets pulled tight, and she moves towards it. Pausing long enough to pull open the drawers on the nightstand. Empty. Frowning, she moves along. Running her hand along the top of the sheet in hopes of feeling something hidden underneath them. Then drops to her knees and slides her hand in between the mattress and the box spring; blindly feeling her way along the smooth surface until her fingers come in contact with something smooth.

It's a file folder. Brand new. The colour still fresh and vibrant, the corners unbent and still sharp. And she perches herself on the edge of the bed, preparing herself for what she may find inside. It could be nothing; just some paperwork that included sensitive information and names that preying eyes weren't privy too.

Photographs. Some black in white. Others in colour. The bile rises in her throat once again and the nausea kicks into high gear. Her heart pounds within her chest; hands shaking, the sweat trickling down now.

Tyler. Her. Their baby. Dating as far back to his release from the hospital, when Esme was still pregnant and they'd been struggling to keep things together but were optimistic about the future. One of the moment they were leaving the medical facility with their three day old infant. There's more. So many more. Outside of their apartment, on the street, at the beach. Snapshots of private and personal moments. Where they're smiling and laughing and completely oblivious to the fact someone was watching them.

Her cell phone rings and she nearly jumps clear out of her skin.

Nik.

She would have just let it go to voicemail. Ignoring it and the text messages that would start pouring in. But she needs to tell someone. Anyone.

“Where the hell are you?” Nik hisses, before Esme even has a chance to offer a greeting.

“I'm in Dhaka.”

“What is wrong with you? All hell is breaking loose. Why would you do this? I told you to just drop it. To let it go.”

“You said you would help me. Where are you, Nik? Why didn't you follow through? You promised you'd help.”

“I was hoping you'd change your mind. This is insane. You're insane. What...?”

“I'm in Jason's room,” she announces.

“Excuse me? What? What the hell are you doing in there? Are you...?”

“No. I'm not having an affair. It's not what you think. I sent Jason to Dhaka. To find out more about that kid Fahrad. Only he already knows him. He's in on it, Nik. All the bullshit that's been happening to Ovi. All the threats, all the letters, all the dead animals. He's involved in it. Somehow.”

“You're crazy. I'm sending Yaz to come and get you and Tyler.”

“Tyler? What...?”

“He left for Dhaka four hours ago. He's freaking out, Esme. He's pissed and he's worried and he's on his way to you. I had to tell him. I had to. He's your husband. The father of your child. He loves you. And he has a right to know what the hell is going on and if you're okay.”

“There's pictures,” she says. “A whole folder of them. Of Tyler and I. And of the baby. Taken back in Australia. As far back as when he was still in the hospital.”

“What are you talking about? Esme...did you break into his hotel room? What the hell are you doing? You need to get out of there. Before he comes back. Just get the hell out of there and don't look back.”

“I've gotta go, Nik.”

“Esme, listen to me. Just get out of there and go somewhere safe. In public. Tell Tyler where you are and he'll find you. Don't make this any worse than it has to be.”

“I've got to,” she insists, and disconnecting the call, drops both her cell and the folder into her bag.

****

She returns the key and gives the manager another ten for his troubles. He's grateful; business has been slow and the owner is two weeks late with his pay.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” he curiously inquires, and she smiles and slips her sunglasses onto her face.

“More than I expected to.”

Her stomach churns. The sweat comes in rivers. Yet she violently shivers as she steps out onto the busy street. Head down to avoid any unnecessary eye contact. Keeping a casual pace, wanting to avoid drawing any suspicious towards her.

She's half a block from the main part of the market when it happens. A hand roughly snatching her by the top of the arm and yanking her into the alley. A second hand coming down over her mouth to stifle the startled yelp. Someone big and strong using their power to pin her up against the brick wall.

“Don't fucking bite me.”

The voice is low. Savage almost. Accompanied by furious blue eyes. And instead of sinking her teeth into the flesh of his palm, she shakes her head vigorously to get him to release his grip.

“Tyler, what the hell?! You scared the shit out me!”

“I scared the shit out of you? That's fucking rich. What the hell are you doing here? I wake up and you're gone and I find out you're here? In Dhaka? What the fuck?”

“I told you I needed to come back here,” she feebly attempts an explanation. He's too livid; nothing will get through to him when he's in this kind of state. “I told you and you refused to listen.”

“Because I thought it was fucking insane. But if you'd just asked me to come with you, I would have. You know that. What the fuck, Esme? Why were you in the hotel?”

“You've been following me?”

“Since the market. Since you talked to that vendor from last year. He's the one who told me you were looking for some colleague of yours.”

“I broke into Jason's room,” she admits.

“What the...”

“He isn't who he says he is, Tyler. He isn't who anyone thinks he is. He even fooled Nik.”

He frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“He's one of them. One of Asif's people. And I know this sounds insane and I would probably think so too if I just hadn't gone through quite possibly the most messed up year in my entire life.”

“Considering the shit I've seen and done, nothing is crazy any more.”

“The vendor told me that he saw Jason and that Fahrad kid together. Which would make sense at first because I'm the one who told him to come here and track him down. But he said they acted as if they knew each other. And that they left together. So I decided to go to the hotel and...”

“Commit break and enter,” he finishes for her.

“Well technically it wasn't B and E because I had a key. But I found these...” she reaches into her bag and pulls out the file folder. “Pictures. Of us. Of Millie. Going back to when you were still in the hospital. This is fucked, Tyler. He's fucked.”

He takes the folder from her and flips through it. She sees the way his jaw clenches and the way the vein in his throat begins to throb, making that thick, jagged scar even more noticeable. Those blue eyes growing darker with each photo.

“What are we going to do?” she asks.

“We're going to the bridge,” he tucks the folder back into her bag. “We're going to give him what he wants.”

“Tyler...no...we can't...you can't.”

“Do you trust me? I need you to trust me.”

She nods. “With my life.”

He takes hold of her hand, pulling her out onto the sidewalk. “Let's go.”

****

“I've done all that I can,” Nik announces. “Pulled every string and called in every favour I could. I can have the bridge closed for twenty minutes. That's it.”

“I won't need that long,” Tyler informs her, cell phone pressed to his ear as he and Esme sit in a stolen car on the west side of the bridge. It's all coming together now: alarmingly vivid recollections of the last time he'd been there.

The sights and the sounds; boots crunching against pavement as he stepped over the sea of bodies that Saju had already collected on his own. The rapid pops of gunfire further down the bridge, terrified bystanders fleeing from the area, the moans of those that lay dying in the roadway. He'd already been injured; shrapnel from bullets, shards of glass embedded in his skin, combining with the wounds that he'd suffered the day before. Shoulder in agony; every movement causing pain like a white hot poker to shoot from the nape of his neck to the tips of his fingers. He'd been vaguely aware of the fact he was bleeding; remembering the way it softly trickled down the left side of his face and both arms. He was weary; panting and out of breath.

But he kept going. With each bullet he fired and each life he took, he counted down the steps...the seconds...until freedom. Until he'd see her again. Thinking of the plans they'd made while tangled up in bed, naked and sweaty bodies pressed up against one another. His fingers tangled in her hair and her head resting on his chest, their voices sleepy as they talked about all the things they would do as they got to know each other in all the ways that didn't involve. Not that the sex wasn't going. It was incredible. But there'd been so much more to discover about one another and he'd been looking forward to it. They'd travel; that was their final decision. Taking some of the money they'd be paid and taking nothing more than their passports and a few change of clothes and just seeing where they'd end up. Colorado was first on the list. He wanted to see the mountains. Where she lived. Maybe even meet her family.

And that..along with seeing Ovi's safe return home...had been what had kept him going. Despite the blood and the pain and the mounting injuries. The thought that someone was waiting for him on the other side of that bridge.

“Don't kill him,” Nik implores.

“I will if I have to.” He is expecting to have to make the decision. Whether to take the younger man's life or just beating him within inches of his demise and then letting him live.

“If you can find cover afterwards, I'll send Yaz to get you. An hour. Two at the most.”

“We'll manage,” he says.

“Be careful, Tyler. I know you're angry. I know you want revenge.”

He's not sure if she means against Jason or the kid who'd nearly taken his life. He choose the former. “He put my wife in danger, Nik. Who knows what he was going to do to her once he got a hold of her. It wouldn't have been good. You and I both know that.”

“You don't know how many other people are involved in this. He can't be working alone. It's too much work for just one person. Don't let your guard down. Make sure you come back in one piece. Both of you.”

He disconnects the call and slips his phone into the pocket on the leg of his cargo pants. Reaching for Esme's bag that sits at her feet, he takes out the Glock; removing the magazine and one in the chamber.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” she nervously inquires.

“It'll work,” he assures her, and drops the gun back into the satchel before placing it in her lap.

“I wasn't going to kill him, you know. That kid. Scare him. But not kill him.”

He wants to believe her. But he knows the power of revenge. How loving something and someone so much can cloud your judgment. There was a time where he wanted what she did: Farhad lying cold and dead in the street. But with the physical healing came some mental repair as well. Revenge only dragged you down. Hardened you. Made you just as bad as the person who caused your harm. You'd never be able to fully go on with your life and enjoy your future with that kind of baggage weighing you down.

“I'm sorry,” she's staring out the window as she talks; voice low, eyes glassy. No doubt filled with her own memories of the last time they'd been there. “I know you're pissed.”

He snorts. “You think just a little bit?”

“I know this isn't where you want to be. In Dhaka. Back on this bridge.”

“You really think that that's what I'm upset about? That I had to come back here?” he shakes his head incredulously, and placing his elbow on the window ledge, places the side of his head in his palm and closes his eyes. His head feels as if will explode. So many emotions. All of them too powerful and all consuming. And the memories...come back with the force of a tsunami. “How can you know so well one minute and then know fuck all the next?”

She shifts uncomfortably beside him, knee brushing up against his, her hands nervously twisting at the strap on her bag.

He cracks open an eye and casts a sidelong glance at her. This woman that he was wildly and crazily head over heels for. Who had walked into his life and filled the enormous hole inside of him in the way no amount of drugs, pills, and self loathing could ever do. Who had so willingly and unselfishly given up her life in order to improve his. Who'd give him a child. Two now, if you considered the one currently growing inside of her. He lays a hand on her thigh; stilling the anxious twitches. Then closes his eyes once more.

“That's not why I'm pissed,” he says. “I'm not pissed I had to come here. I'm pissed that you did what you did. You were the one that was worried about me sneaking off. I never thought you'd be the one doing it. All you had to do was tell me. I would have given you a hard time about it, but I would have come here with you. But you didn't give me that chance, did you.”

“I thought it would easier just to do it on my own,” she confesses. “I didn't want to put this on you.”

“You're not putting anything on me. The second we put rings on each other's fingers, we said we'd bear the weight of each other's burdens. That we wouldn't have to deal with things alone. And the fact you just went ahead and left...”

“I'm sorry,” he can hear the tears in her voice. Can see the image in his head: those dark eyes filling to the brim, the way her lower lip always trembles. Even when she's crying she's beautiful.

“And you just didn't leave me. You left the baby. My baby. And she needs her mother. What if you'd never come home? She'd spent the rest of her life wondering about you and I'd spent the rest of my life trying to make sure she never forgets you. And what about the other baby? The one that's inside of right now. Did you even stop to think about them? What could have happened? Not just to you but that baby too? You didn't make these kids on your own. They're mine too. You're not the only one that loves them and would die for them.”

“I know...” her voice cracks, and he can feel her hand as it settles on top of his. And he laces their fingers together, squeezing tightly. “I know you hate right now.”

“I could never hate you. Ever. There's times where you piss me off and I don't like you very much. But I could never hate you. I love you too much. With everything I am. With everything I have.”

She raises their hands to her lips and presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “I love you. I don't think you'll ever realize how much. And I am sorry. I didn't do this to hurt you. Or make you mad. I did it so that I could finally move on. Because it's been so hard...so fucking hard.”

She cries in earnest now, and he opens his eyes and reaches across the car; a hand on the back of her head as he pulls her into him. Her face tucking into the hallow of his throat. His face in her hair as he takes in the scent in that lingers on those dark tresses.

“It's time to go,” he says, and presses a kiss to her temple.

“Tell me it's going to be okay.”

“It's going to be okay,” he promises, and places a kiss to her forehead. “Trust me.”

“I do,” she assures him and then gives her bravest smile as she pushes his hair off his forehead. “I'd sort of miss you if you weren't around.”

“I'd sort of miss you too. Even if you do do stupid shit sometimes.”

She kisses him. Her lips soft and warm against his. Then pulls away and opening the car door, slings her bag over her shoulder and steps out.

All he can do is sit there and watch her walk away.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #i found

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09yards · 5 years

Text

chapter 5 - broken hearts club part two (days gone by - NCT)

Days Gone By masterlist | main masterlist

Broken Hearts Club part two

Me without you is like driving without the headlights

Me without you is like waking up without the sunrise

Never thought I could feel the way I do, but I’m not just me without you

Mark really didn’t know how he ended up here. The clock to his left reads something past one-am, there’s an almost empty (but not quite) bottle of vodka clutched tightly in his hand as he’s singing at the top of his lungs to ‘breaking free’, a delightful quintet by himself, Renjun, Jaemin, Ten and Johnny. None of them able to be classed anywhere close to sober at this point and if his mum ever found out they would be in an indescribable amount of trouble. Mark’s small eighteenth get together had turned into a full-blown party where a solid ninety-eight percent of attendees were either drunk out of their mind, high off the ground or both. They would be so, so dead if this wasn’t fixed before their mum came home.

But, as luck would have it (for Mark anyway) apparently the moment the music switches to a remotely sexy song, that’s the cue for his friends to start grinding on one another, as if Jaehyun and Doyoung having been missing for the last forty-five minutes wasn’t disgusting enough, their dancing was borderline pornographic and Mark was not in the mood. Especially not as he was feeling more single than ever, it was beginning to feel like all of his friends were coupled up – including Donghyuck who’d been dancing (luckily appropriately) with Heejin from is literature class, all night long. So, yes, Mark was feeling great. Hadn’t he been called back inside with the exact promise that this wouldn’t be happening? Mark was not having it tonight; he was very much ready to continue his drunken state and find someone to make out with himself. His choice of the night, making it seem like he had multiple options besides the game of thrones superfan from his maths class which he isn’t sure how ended up here and the generally creepy boy who’d been harbouring some sort of crush (borderline obsession) with Mark since they’d met a few years ago and once again Mark had no idea how he ended up here, maybe it was because he doubled up as a pizza delivery guy and he just didn’t leave afterwards, who knows. Nonetheless, Jungwoo was in attendance due to being Marks old maths tutor just a couple of years ago who Mark happened to have developed a small, harmless crush on. Jungwoo was cute, he was kind and sweet and always looked out for Mark – sure Mark would never harbour any actual feelings for him but that wasn’t necessarily the point of tonight. Mark wanted distracting, no longer wanting to having to force his eyes away from watching Hyuck dance with Heejin and watching her look just about ready to kiss him, no Mark did not want to watch that.

Thus, his attention turned to Jungwoo, dancing, making out, continuing to drink with Jungwoo. His hands slipping under the elder’s shirt as they danced, Mark leading them out of the swarm of bodies up to his room. Heaving chests and heavy breathing filling the room as they kissed against Mark’s bed. Frantic movements, gasps of one another’s names as they moved against each other. Intoxicated by one another – getting lost in each other. Maybe it was the vodka and whatever other concoctions Mark had been consuming all night but this felt easy, it felt simple. No complicated love confessions, just a ‘hey, want to dance?’. Mark liked simple but simple did not like him, hence the I’m-in-love-with-my-best-friend-who-isn’t-gay. Not exactly the simplest of things. Yet Mark made do, kissing Jungwoo distracted him from Donghyuck. Distracted him from the way Hyuck’s eyes were lined with a smoky eyeshadow and made him look beautiful, or the way his hair was currently dyed blond and god Mark didn’t think he could get more ethereal yet here he was proven wrong again. Or the way that Hyuck smiled at Mark, particularly under the warm glow of the sunset as he’d arrived, the light bouncing off of Hyuck’s cheekbones and Mark having to hold back from the urge to reach out and kiss him, instead Hyuck wishing his ‘Markie’ a happy birthday with a quick, quaint kiss to the elder’s cheek – Mark felt like he fell in love all over again. He could practically feel his soulmate mark burning, how he longed for this to all be some childish prank and things would work out and him and Hyuck were really soulmates, not just some wild fantasy.

“Mark,” a breathy moan, “we’re drunk, m-maybe we should slow down.”

“Don’t worry Hyuck, it’s fine.” And well shit, that just happened.

Jungwoo was quick to push Mark off of him (understandably so), muttering ‘I knew it’s’ and ‘I should’ve knowns’. Mark frantically apologising, attempting to defend himself until I simple, stern “Save it,” filled the room. Jungwoo left, grunting a “happy birthday” before slamming the door and maybe Jungwoo was right, Mark really should’ve known. Where did he think making out with a guy who clearly liked him but everyone (bar Donghyuck) could see the way Mark looked at Hyuck. Mark felt guilty, trying to force feelings and realising that he can’t do easy-breezy when he’s in love with someone else, he couldn’t keep kissing other people pretending that they were Hyuck.

Apparently Satan was feeling awfully generous tonight because as there was knock at his bedroom door and Mark was hoping, or rather praying that it was Johnny or Renjun or Jaemin or anyone besides Donghyuck, Donghyuck’s head appeared around the door, his collarbones visible from the attractively loose white button up he was wearing drooping down against his shoulder, revealing more and more intoxicating sun-kissed skin. Mark whined internally, it was his birthday, can he not breathe for five minutes?

“Hey, you alive in here Markie? I caught Jungwoo rushing out the door, when I asked him what was wrong, he called me a bitch and told me to ask you.” His voice lilting at the end, a half question, half statement.

“Shit, sorry Hyuck, he got the wrong idea and we sort of ended things quickly – he didn’t give me a chance to explain.”

“Ah, no worries, you know I’ve been called worse.”

“Shouldn’t you be with Heejin?”

“Lucas and Johnny are attempting to send everyone home; I think Injun and Jaemin are staying and taking one sofa and the same with Jaehyun and Doyoung.”

“Didn’t feel like walking Heejin home?” Mark didn’t mean to sound so bitter; he just didn’t want to get caught up in Hyuck as he usually did. He refused to look at the younger, meaning Hyuck changing into Mark’s joggers and t-shirt went completely unnoticed – probably a good thing as Mark was feeling very weak and exposure to that kind of beauty is not good for his heart.

“No. I wanted to come and cuddle my best friend on his birthday? Stop being so grumpy and shove over, I’ve missed my snuggles.”

And so, Mark let him climb into bed, let Hyuck nestle his head in the dip between Mark’s shoulders, hands wrapping themselves around Mark’s bare torso. Thank the lord Mark was so drunk he was on the verge of passing out.

The late morning sun always made things seem more beautiful to Mark. Slithers of light streaming through the cracks in the blinds always made everything seem hazy, softer and more delicate. Golden rays flickering across them, allowing Mark to register their changed position, now laying on his back with Hyuck curled into his side, looking tiny in the way he’s tucked himself underneath Mark’s shoulder. From this angle, Mark can see the way Hyuck’s long lashes cast shadows across his freckled cheeks, fluttering as Donghyuck slept.

He could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage as Hyuck’s breath tickled against his exposed stomach. Mark’s hand running through his impossibly fluffy hair, the blond suited Donghyuck, he’d always admired his tendency to mix things up with his hair colour where Mark just stuck with black, albeit it was technically dyed to the inky jet black it was at the minute. Mark could stay here forever, his hands cascading through Hyuck’s hair, admiring Donghyuck’s beauty, makeup or bare faced, Hyuck was unique and just beautiful. His fullsun. He was cute when he slept too, all pouty lips and features softened.

It still hurt, sure, how could it not?

It was sweet, the way he felt in these moments but it was also dark and bitter. It made him feel whole, at home and warm inside but it broke his heart, physically pained him to know he was holding onto someone who wasn’t his. A bitter sweet love story. Mark let his eyes flicker shut, allowing sleep to consume him again, an escape from the real world.

“Hey, Mark? Are you awake? Get up you lazy arse!”

“Go away, Renjun.”

“It’s like two pm, isn’t your mum back this evening?”

“Shit,” Mark sat up as quickly as he could without jostling Hyuck awake, “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Ah Mark, lovely for you to grace us with your presence, how’s the hangover?”

“Jeez Jaehyun, do you have to speak so loudly?”

“I’m literally speaking at a normal volume?”

“Too loud. Shhh.”

“Markie!” Mark hissed as Johnny’s voice radiated across the room, far, far, too loud for someone with a hangover, “aspirin and water for my baby’s first hangover,” Mark snorted at that, “okay, your first hangover that I’ve witnessed.”

“So, Mark, what did I walk in on?”

“What are you talking about Injun?”

“You, shirtless, Donghyuck wearing your clothes, clinging to you like a koala bear? I smell boyfriends.”

“How do you smell boyfr-“

“Shut up Jaemin.”

“The moment he heard Jungwoo had gone upstairs with you he said good night to Heejin you know? When he saw Jungwoo rushing out he looked about ready to kill him, what happened?”

“Me and Jungwoo may or may not have been making out and then I may or may not have moaned Hyuck, very, very clearly. And, for fuck’s sake guys, we’re not dating.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I believe you,” Renjun’s attention quickly turned back to his phone when he didn’t get the answers he wanted, “oh shit.”

“What now Injun?”

“Mark you need to make sure Hyuck doesn’t look at his phone, that updates blog has posted that he’s gay – they say they were told so it was obviously Heejin and not being able to understand getting rejected. Oh my god, what if his parents find out?”

“Mark? Mark! Mark, come back we need to talk about this!”

He’d run back upstairs as fast as he could, there was no way Hyuck had slept through the commotion going on downstairs – no matter how hungover he was. Any minute now Hyuck would see the tweets, people commenting on how it was obvious, people commenting on who he thinks Hyuck’s dating. Most of them being Mark. Mark being gay wasn’t any kind of secret, everyone (generally speaking) knew that he was, he never hid it, he made out with boys at parties, he had multiple pride pins on is backpack and what-not, sure he wasn’t screaming it in the cafeteria like Ten used to, openly talking about how much he wanted ahem, body parts, of one’s older brother – yes, Mark will forever be scarred for life by Ten and his invertedness to socially inappropriate conversational topics.

“Hyuck, you up?” Mark didn’t need to ask the question, he could see Hyuck sat up on his bed, scrolling through his phone.

“Why do you look so panicked Mark? I’ve been on twitter and it’s whatever, if my parents see it I’ll just deny it, like always.”

“They’ll really believe that you’re telling the truth?”

“No, but they won’t know I’m telling a lie.”

“Sorry? Did you just say you are, you know, that you are that?”

“Don’t act like it’s so taboo Mark, besides I don’t want to discuss my sexuality with you. I better head off, mum’s been asking what time I’ll be home,” Hyuck got out of bed, picking up his own clothes but not removing Marks, grabbing one of Mark’s hoodies as he walked over, stopping just in front of him, “I hope you had a nice birthday, whatever happened with Jungwoo you can talk to me when you’re ready,” another gentle kiss to Mark’s cheek, “see you later Markie, I’ll text you.”

Mark was left blushing and well-and-truly flustered, the typical after effects of Donghyuck.

#mark lee #markhyuck #markhyuck fic #nct fic #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct

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eternityunicorn · 5 years

Text

Elijah’s Eternity Part Three

Author: eternityunicorn

Genre: Romance/Fantasy/AU

Warnings: Violence, Language, Possible Smut

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x OC

Summary: Elijah Mikaelson didn’t know what to expect when he encountered the strange archer in the night, but he certainly didn’t think his whole world would be turned upside down by it. Yet, he quickly learns that she is more than what she seems, having come looking for an Original after a large spike in supernatural being populations started cropping up on Earth a thousand years ago. Now, he must help her decide if the supernatural community should stay on their home planet or leave it for good? A task that is made more complicated along the way, as his life is changed forever.

NOTE: OC is the main character from my upcoming book. There will also be elements from my book too. So, it's a fanfic with original elements.

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From the moment she disappeared into the night like a phantom, he thought of her. He couldn’t stop himself. She was always there in his thoughts, as if she were a long lost lover he was pining for. It was strange, this sudden obsession of the mind, especially since it was only one meeting. He couldn’t help but to wonder what sorcery had been cast upon him to be this way. Yet, Elijah didn’t believe that it was any type of magic that caused it.

“They all do that. React that was to me, I mean”

He thought about his initial reaction to her and those of the diner patrons, summing it up to a natural phenomenon; a byproduct of her presence or lack thereof. Perhaps the knowing of her caused an obsessiveness, making those that had the honor of meeting her unable to forget her, unable not to think about her constantly afterwards.

Or maybe he was just falling in love with her. Elijah laughed at the ridiculousness of that. Nobody fell in love with someone they just met, not even a godlike figure.

Even so, Eternity was something remarkable, a being unlike any other that he or anyone else on Earth had ever encountered. Anyone would feel obsessive over such an otherworldly meeting - a once in a lifetime sort of thing. Hell, some humans were like that in regard to him and his kind. He supposed there was something about those greater that yourself that caused the phenomenon of unforgettableness. Elijah now understood those humans better, related to them in a way he couldn’t before.

Then there was his curiousness about his own connection to the story she had told him. Ten thousand years ago, there had been all kinds of myths and legends living on Earth, and they were different than the supernatural community that existed now. Yet, they were gone, existing elsewhere. What did that have to do with him and the community? What was the connection?

“There was a being named Ceres....She split the one universe into two; the Mortal Universe and the Immortal Universe.”

To split a universe into two had to have taken incredible power - the power of a god. Yet, Eternity swore that she was not one, that none of the beings like her were. Despite the denial, he couldn’t help but think that way - that Ceres was some sort of goddess. That Eternity was one too. Though he didn’t know the extent of her abilities. Could she split the universe and transport millions to different worlds? Maybe. What did he know?

He spent the day thinking about all this, waiting for the evening to come around. Eternity had sent him a telepathic message during the day, telling him the specifics of their next meeting, since she had forgotten in her haste to leave last night. It had caught him off guard, but it certainly wasn’t the first time he had a message delivered to him that way. Some witches could send messages that way, but it took a lot of energy. And given Eternity’s otherworldliness, he wasn’t surprised that she had the ability.

Eternity told him to be at the diner at six. The time the message had been delivered had been eight in the morning. Therefore, Elijah had the day to think and obsess, in a way he had never thought or obsessed before. It was maddening and it made time move slower.

He was grateful when the time finally came to meet with Eternity again. Hopefully, he could get some answers, as to his relation to her story - and more about her.

The old manor that Elijah had been staying in was just down the road from the diner, so he walked the short distance to the place with brisk steps. It was mid summer and so the sun hadn’t set yet. Most vampires couldn’t be out in the open because of the daylight, but he wasn’t one of them. A daylight ring kept him from burning up.

He had the brief wondering of whether or not there were other types of vampires, ones that lived amongst the other immortals Eternity spoke on. Furthermore, just how many myth and legends of Earth were real? He supposed he was going to have to ask her when she came to meet him.

Elijah entered the diner without gaining as much of the attention he had gotten last night from the many more patrons currently there. A few looked up from their meals or conversations, gazing at him curiously or oddly. It was most likely he was an elegant man in an expensive three piece suit. He was certainly out of place, just as he had been last night.

Yet, he paid no attention to any of them. Just as it was last night, it wasn’t the first time he had gone to a place he was out of place at. In fact, he had gone to worse places than an old diner in desperate need of refurbishing in his dealings with others, mostly vampires or witches who sought favors of him or whom he had manipulated into serving him.

The booth that he had sat down in with Eternity last night was free. He went to it, sitting down in the same place he had, so that he could watch the door for the white-haired beauty. A different waitress, a young woman with short red hair and bright green eyes, came over to offer him something to drink. He ordered coffee from her, and then, proceeded to wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

Hours passed by, until the sun had begun to set and the diner began to empty out. The red headed waitress had been by to refill his coffee cup many times, asking him if he wanted something else, specifically something to eat. He declined with cool anger. Though anger not at the young woman. He felt like a fool, sitting there for hours waiting, watching the pathetic looks from the humans around him.

Then there was the hunger. He needed to feed.

Disappointed and angered, Elijah decided enough was enough and got up to leave. He moved toward the front of the diner, the hunger getting to him as he went. He could hear the heart beats around him, smell the blood that pumped through their veins. He made the quick decision to feed now.

There was a young woman sitting alone at the bar top. She was undoubtedly waiting for a friend or her partner. A perfect target, especially since the diner had thinned out of people. Nobody would suspect. He’d simply compel her to let him feed and then compel her to forget him or more specifically, that he was a vampire.

“Hello sweetheart,” he spoke seductively to the woman, catching her attention.

The second she turned to him, Elijah compelled her to let him feed from her and to be quiet. Then he began to feed from her neck, making it look like he was kissing her there instead of biting. He pulled the blood from her, feeling the red liquid warm him, safe him. She gasped at the initial bite, but kept quiet as he knew she would.

Once he was done, Elijah released her. She would live. He made sure of that. Leaving a trail of bodies wasn’t his thing. He was smarter than that and he was certainly no amateur.

After he was through sating his hunger, he left the diner. Only to find Eternity standing there. She was dressed in an elegant white dress that flowed around her. The summer breeze blew both it and her nearly ankle length hair all around her, across her round face, intensifying her etherealness. Her sapphire eyes looked apologetic.

“Eternity,” said Elijah, surprised to see her.

“Forgive me,” Eternity replied. “I didn’t mean to be so late.”

He shoved a hand in his pants pocket, rubbing the fingers of his other hand lightly across his lower lip in nervousness. He had just fed upon an innocent woman. Yes, he had left her alive, but he had still done harm. Had she seen it? What would she do, if she had? He felt fearful for his life, something he hadn’t felt in nearly a thousand years. He also felt ashamed, guilty.

“Don’t,” Eternity said quickly, coming closer in that floating way of hers.

Elijah noticed her wince a bit as she did. She stuttered in her step, a slight pained sound fell from her pink lips. However, she recovered so quickly that he wondered if that had been what she did.

“I know what you’ve done,” she told him, “I understand it is necessary of you to do. I also know that you left the girl alive. You spared her life. That is merciful, good. I hold nothing against you, as you were doing what is necessary.”

Elijah was again surprised, as he relaxed considerably. It was as if a great burden had been lifted from him. “I waited for you,” he said, non-accusing.

“I know that as well,” she smiled. “Again, I apologize.”

“Well, you’re here now. So, shall we have that dinner?”

“Actually, it’s fairly late and honesty, I’m not hungry at that moment.”

“So, what do you suggest we do?”

Eternity’s smile turned mysterious. “I actually want to show you something,” she offered him her hand, “Come with me.”

Without hesitation, Elijah took her hand and let her lead him away from the diner. They walked together unhurriedly down the empty sidewalks of the small Maine town. It was rather romantic, especially with how dressed up they both were. Then she let go of his hand and tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, pulling him closer to her.

They didn’t speak, just like last night when they had walked to the diner, but it was companionable, the quiet between them. It wasn’t awkward. Elijah wondered where she was leading him, but didn’t question her. Trusting her even though he trusted nobody that he had just met. Her presence was simply comforting, peaceful, trustworthy.

Soon, they were wandering off outside of the town to the wilderness there, into forest. Now, he was curious. Why were they going into the wood?

Just as Elijah was about to ask, she stopped and moved away from him, leaving him to watch her with confused curiosity. Without a sound did she move. Even in the pitch blackness around them did she possess a shinning grace, casting a dim light around her. Ounce she was a few paces ahead of him, Eternity turned back to him with a small grin.

“You wanted to know what I was yesterday,” she said to him. “I thought that tonight I would show it to you, the being that I truly am.”

Now he was really curious. He watched intensely. It seemed to him that in the brief moment it took for her to show him, time itself came to a stand still. Nothing moved around them. No sound could be heard. Everything had simply stopped.

Then it happened. In a bright, almost blinding flash of light, her form shifted and molded itself into something else entirely. A piercing musical whinny rang out into the night and from the fading light, leapt the strange white beast of legend: a unicorn!

As a woman she was gorgeous, but as a unicorn? The words turned to ash in his mouth. He felt such strong emotion standing there before her. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes that he tried to hold back, but couldn’t. His knees felt weak, like the powerful and inexplainable emotions were dragging him down. It was if he subconsciously wanted to worship at her feet. Yet somehow he managed to say upright.

Captivated, he observed her. Her snow white form remained unmarred by anything; not even the dirt at her cloven hooves dared to touch her perfection making it appear as if she was, ever so slightly, standing above the ground. He watched her deer-like face, as she stared back through large sapphire colored eyes that were aged by thousands of years worth of wisdom and experience. Her lion’s tail swished behind her gently as her mane rippled like consistent waves of the ocean down her back, much in the same way her hair did in human form. The unicorn’s long spiral horn, dull gray in color, glowed bright blue briefly with a short hum. She moved one twiggy leg as she pawed the earth in restlessness, the tuft of hair at her ankle waving like a flag with her movement.

Neither of them said anything. They just stared at each other; one in curiosity and the other in amazement. Her long deer-like ears twitched, seeming to casually catch any sounds around them. She blinked at him after a time, as if waiting for him to say something.

It was hard to speak, to express any words or feelings. Yet, he found the strength to force himself to speak, swallowing hard and licking his suddenly dry lips to say, “You’re a vision.”

The unicorn seems to approve. Her large sapphire eyes gleamed merrily. She whinnied her approval, dancing side to side on her hooves. Then she shifted forms again, back into the snowy colored woman that didn’t cause such maddening, involuntary emotions in him.

Those strong emotions that had Elijah shedding tears and feeling weak kneed vanished with the reversion of her appearance. Eternity silently moved closer to him, reaching out to wipe away a tear on his cheek that he hadn’t notice fall from his eye. He flinched a bit at her touch, still reeling from the sight he had just witnessed.

“Sorry, that’s also a natural reaction,” said Eternity with a slight laugh, shrugging a little bit. “The presence of the woman is a wonder, but that of the unicorn is breathtaking.”

“So, you’re a unicorn,” he responded, soundly pathetic to his own ears, while using the handkerchief he carried the breast of his suit jacket to dry his eyes the rest of the way.

“Aye.”

“I recall tales of your kind. People would seek the horn of the unicorn for it’s healing power.”

She nodded, “Yes, I know of the tales. They wouldn’t find anything since my people, and all other immortals, were gone, but those stories used to be a reality long ago. So many of my kind were killed either being hunted and participating in war. So many in fact that my family is nearly all that’s left.”

“Well, I’m glad you showed me this,” Elijah smiled. “To witness such a rarity is quite the honor.”

“Aye,” she paused to smile back and hold out her hand to him again, “Come and I’ll tell you the reason why I was seeking you and your family.”

Once more without hesitation, Elijah took her hand. This time, he took the lead and guided them out of the forest. The quiet was companionable as always.

Then just as they exited the forest, they were greeted by a handful of ugly creatures. They were small grotesque things with leathery green skin and bright yellow eyes. Yellowed teeth filled their mouths and long sharp claws adorned their wrinkly hands. These creatures growled and hissed in an animalistic way, zeroing in on them.

“Friends of yours?” Elijah quipped.

“Not in the slightest,” replied Eternity, her clothes magically changing into the corset and leather leggings ensemble from before. Her yumi bow and quiver appeared on her back, while her sheathed katana appeared in her hand. “But don’t worry, I got this.”

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #klaus mikaelson #ocs #my ocs #fanfics #fantasy #fan fiction #first fanfic #be gentle

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viampythonissam · 5 years

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Intro, continued...

It was then I became obsessed with death and the occult, desperately trying to make contact with my grandfather through anything possible. Being clairaudient, I was expecting to hear a message from my grandfather all throughtout the whole funeral and mourning period, but to no avail. So in my desparation, I went into research, and stumbled upon things such as the ouija, seances, and many more. I even considered dabbling into necromancy, just in order to hear from him again. His death broke me so much that I was for the most time wishing I were dead too. I had suicidal thoughts but somehow something has prevented me from attempting. It could be I'm too chicken to hurt myself (getting hurt by other things besides self-infliction doesn't scare me though) or the thought of my mother crying over my dead body is another thing that would crush my heart.

I started questioning my religious beliefs then. We were Roman Catholics, and we go to church, but not too often. I am very religious though when I was a child, having been schooled in a private Catholic school, and I know all the prayers by heart; but it all changed. I felt resentment for praying so hard but never getting answered. That everything happens for a reason. A reason still so vague to me to this day, which I continue to believe was the same reason of the breaking apart of this family and eventual downfall. The family is in ruins, and the family home is crumbling apart. My father's only brother, my uncle Aldrin, died a little over two years after my grandfather; and his widow and only child, my cousin, was estranged ever since then, because of inheritance issues. My father decided to sell the house, my childhood home because of this; splitting the family fortune already so that we can all go off our separate ways and stop the bickering. The only thing that's keeping him from doing so is my grandmother who is still so attached to the house built by my grandfather.

At 16, I eventually traversed my way into the craft, dabbling on it. There was a kind of pull into these mystics that appealed to someone like me. Was it power? Was it danger? Mystery, perhaps? Or maybe I just got all too familiar with the unknown for me to be comfortable chasing after it? This craft, shunned by my faith since the dawn of time and even killed tons of people because of it, felt like home to me; learning it felt like retracing my steps back from where I came from. There was a sense of calm, relief, and freedom learning the ways of the earth, elements, and spirits and those who came before. Its unrestrictive nature was a stark contrast to the repressive and dominating teachings of the Catholic scriptures. Wherein Christianity demands a million things to do and not to do to save your soul, the craft only ever wanted you to do anything you want, just as long you harm none, even yourself. I have a lot of arguments to make against my old faith, that's why I consider myself an agnostic in all fairness. That's a topic for another day.

When I got to college at 17, I applied for nursing school under my father's wishes. It was in my misfortune to be enrolled in a school with a toxic environment of sorts: unhealthy clinic hours, unreasonable school workload, toxic Christian classmates who bombarded me everyday with bible verses and inviting me to join Sunday worship thingies. I am very respectful of other's beliefs and opinions but I really have a bone to pick with the Born Agains because upon knowing I am interested in dark movies and occult, they've started telling me that the Devil has a grip on my soul and that I should stop it so that my soul can be saved. They're even worse than the Mormons and Witnesses who knock on your door at certain days. I'd just ignore it and they'll go but BAs will stop at nothing to guiltify me of being possessed and that I need deliverance. It was also the time my parents went to Australia for work because of the failing finances due to to my late grandfather's hospital expenses, my uncle meeting his untimely demise, and my uncle's greedy widow who already demanded their inheritance even though my grandmother was still alive. My best friends of highschool also attended different schools and pursued different career pathways which left me feeling more isolated and unsure of myself. These issues fed my undiagnosed depression and relapse of suicidal thoughts all throughout my 4 years in nursing school. It was a mix of emotions, a rollercoaster ride of disappointments, achievements, first-time experiences, full independence. All without a proper support system. Nevertheless, I grew wiser while treading the craft, and for the first time since I lost my grandfather, I felt safe and sound and complete.

Then I met my elementary school sweetheart again in my final year and we became a couple. He was a sweet guy, smart and responsible. We had our similarities, our quirks, but we also had differences. I was already quite a learned witch, studying tarot and palmistry as my supposed-to-be expertise, when he told me how he wanted to be baptised as a Born Again (he and his family are Roman Catholics as well). He told me how he was deeply affected by the one time he went to a worship service of his friend's church. This struck a chord in me, a subtle reference to my beliefs. At the time, I have fully believed he is the man I'm gonna settle for, the one I'm gonna marry. He's everything I have hoped for then: he's finished school, on his way to a very decent career on a ship as a marine engineer. He's from a good family as well. Well-mannered, and not to mention that we've got a pretty long history way back when we we're 10 or so. He even made a subtle proposal of a civil marriage before he hops on board the ship. I know it was betrayal of myself, but I love this man so much so, I am ready to submit myself to him.

Worst decision of my life. I started to try and mingle with Christians so I may understand just why I needed to be saved. I joined worship services and sang with them against my own beliefs. I taught myself to be like them just so I could fit in, so that I may have friends. In return, they've burned all my books and tarot decks. Even my Slipknot t-shirt that my grandmother bought me was not spared from the Christian pyre. Said that it's to release me from the grip of the Devil. They even did deliverance to me. For a while I thought I was given a new lease on life and that this is the only right thing to do. I was easily convinced since it was the most trying time of my life so far: I was killing myself reviewing for the nursing licensure exams, my parents are already coming to get us and live away in Australia for good, my bf and I hit rock bottom and broke up (the girl who is the 3rd party confessed to me that they're having an affair, and that she was so guilty she can't sleep at night knowing we are good friends and they're doing this behind my back, also I've noticed red flags about him that made me doubt him a bit. I factored everything and the dots connected like a damn constellation so I've called it quits), and I was caught in an identity crisis because of inner turmoil. Maybe it was a time of personal upheaval and the mix of situations was too much for me to handle. Maybe it was a good thing though that I never got baptised because my life just got much more complicated after that.

So I did pass the licensures, ex and I never got together again, I went to live to Australia, but I never recovered from the inner turmoil thing; which made me spiral down again the depression lane, this time in its dangerous, ugliest and darkest recesses. I was fighting with my parents which I never did before, I was angry all the time. I started drinking then and I was exhausted all the time I just want to sleep. All the activities I've enjoyed before like sketching, playing the piano, afternoon strolls, and cooking for the family, I've totally lost interest in. My health deteriorated and I cut off and isolated myself from my friends overseas, ignoring their messages and emails. I tried to cope up by immersing myself in Christian songs and scriptures but it was not enough. I was still empty and numb. I was like a zombie, waking up just enough not to get late for work, then go home after, eat unhealthily, play video games, chug a bottle or two of beer, surf the net for worthless and trivial things, and sleep very late, like around 3 to 5 am, only to wake up again a few hours later for work. This was a vicious daily cycle that went on for 4 years. The only reprieve I had was my video games, and my sombre playlist, just enough to block the deafening screams of suicidal thoughts and ideations before I go to sleep. There was also a time I was going home from my internship waiting for the train home, that I thought of just jumping on the train tracks to end the struggle and pain. I was more than ready to attempt as I felt braver now. That was the time I lost all fear for death. Hell, I was ready to buy a rope at Bunnings too as well. But at the back of my head, the same sad picture of my mother crying over my dead body stops me from doing such thing. They said the deliverance was supposed to stop these things, but guess what? It was it that brought it back. It was supposed to keep the demons away, but it did the opposite, and felt so trapped in a cage of deceit and lies. I was supposed to be saved, but why did it felt like I was dying?

It was then I pondered over everything that's happened in my life so far. Where did I fall, where did I stand tall, where did I pick myself up? I thought long and hard enough and decided to start off where it began to crumble: back home. Retracing my steps back to Manila, now 25, I found my old stuff in my old room, before things happened. It reminded me of my simple life and my freedom and innocence. Back when I had complete control of my life. Back when I was the master of my fate. I let the people around me convince me that the man from the sky take the wheel, and it damn well crashed. A head-on collision with a destructive force. I decided to go back to my roots, the one where I felt best. And embracing it tighter than ever and promising to never betray it anymore for any reason.

My ex is now preparing to marry his girlfriend of 3 years. We met accidentally and forgave him already. I'm happy for him and that hopefully his happiness continue on. My old friends are still my friends, but there's already a notable gap between which I do not intend to close at all anymore. I do have new friends now and I keep a healthy distance from them whilst making a worthwhile connection. I am now preparing to enter med school in August and become a surgeon someday. The old house is in shambles, and I realized that a house is not a home, but the family that lives in it. I miss my parents and that my family will always come first, but I am happy to be more independent now and live by myself while studying medicine. Things are well between me and my cousin (my late uncle's child) and that I have forgiven his mother already for the hurt and trouble that they caused us. We see each other as he visits me and grandmother here at the old house every 2 months. When BAs, Mormons, and other religions try to do bible study to me, I am now assertive to tell them that I am agnostic and that I am firm in my beliefs. I am now recovering from my self-destructive ways and more optimistic and living healthier. Love is around, but it felt to me that I have lots to undertake first before I commit myself to someone again. I have backlogged so much that my time has to be devoted to the craft, my family and myself first before anything else. I am trying hard to pick up all the pieces and it seems things are finally going back in its right place. And the craft, after all these years, welcomed me back with open arms without any questions, like a mother does to her child. The sun, moon and the stars never shone brighter before, the day I returned home and answered its longing call.

Now. I have to let this off my chest now once and for all. Pleasure. Why is it a sin to pursue whatever makes you happy? Why must you endure pain just so you can be saved? Isn't that a crooked logic? Why must you be averse to your own will just so you get into a good place in the afterlife? I am only human, I am flawed, but it isn't my fault because I was born and created this way. Why must I be punished for something that is natural for me? If being free and happy costs me a one-way ticket to Hell, then I'd best be off. If my witchcraft, which teaches the opposite of your tyrannic religion, is a surefire way to deliver me there, then I'll make sure I will be a remarkable witch and enjoy my lifetime, and be very ecstatic to march down the fiery highway to Hell after I am gone. But I will never again submit myself to a narcissistic, psychopathic religion who has to kill millions of innocent people, and shun and humiliate people who think in contrast, just to justify and preach the existence of their god and its scriptures. My argument does not end with this and I will not back down anymore in defending my faith.

The craft is my world, and nature is my home. I am a daughter of those who came before, of those who are truly enlightened, of those you can never ever kill. I am a witch, and you can never take that away from me again.

*** Sorry for the long post. Thanks for reading, if you did. I hope you had something to take from my story and may it help you with whatever is botheringvor troubling you right now.

May the journey of life be kind to us all. Blessed be! ❤

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nightmaretyrantvantas · 6 years

Text

I never gave up on you, even when the world acted like it did.

So Im going to preface this with the fact this is about Damian Wayne and an Oc of mine that I ship with him that really only my girlfriend is going to fully understand. This is a DC oc that I haven posted anything about yet, only shared it with my girlfriend as I add to her and refine her. But I was greatly inspired by a fic written by @my-one-love-is-music about Tim faking his death. It gave me so many emotions and is the whole inspiration behind this piece of writing and I just had the urge to post it. Its a bit rough because its not beta’d or proofread by anyone(even me) because I’m publishing it right after finishing it but I hope you guys will like it anyway!

My girlfriend is going to kill me for this...

I never gave up on you, even when the world acted like it did.

It wasn’t true. It COULDN’T be true.

Damian refused to accept or believe G...She was just...de--gone.

No no she wasn’t gone. It didnt feel right. It wasnt right. She...she was too strong to just be taken down like that.

Damian refused. He wouldnt accept she was gone.

That was the first week, the start of the first month of her “death”. While the team and the world grieved he vocally and aggressively denied it. His attitude concerned most, but no one approached him at first.

“ Everyone grieves differently...just leave him be for now you guys. He just needs time...” Grayson was the one who rationalized his denial, his tone low and almost dead. The voice of a man whose gone through a loved one’s death before...no...the voice of the boy who went through THIS particular loved one’s death before.

The concerns for Damian’s well being and mental health arose stronger after the first month of denial, when the obsessive behavior began.

She wasnt dead. She was alive, she HAD to be, she WAS alive.

Thats what Damian told himself, everyday as he obsessively searched for her. Every hint, every even slightest trace was poured over over and over and over for days on end. Something was off, he knew it he knew it goddammit! Everything about it was off and wrong. She was too strong, the death was too sudden, they weren’t allowed to see the body...

He scoured over every single little detail of the mission, the time it happened, everything. He watched video surveillance frame by frame, second by second until his eyes stung and his vision was as blurry as some of the footage. He knew she was alive, he didnt care what everyone else said. They were wrong...

They had to be wrong.

His behavior, his refusal of her absence began starting arguments between Grayson and Kori. Damian acted out worse during missions, he refused to listen, and if he wasnt forced to go on missions or patrols he was locked away in his room searching and hunting for hints, clues, little trails she’d have left for him. But he knew of the arguments, arguments he heard when they thought he wasn’t there.

“ Dick, his behavior isn’t healthy at all! He isnt listening at all anymore. He’s hurting himself with this obsession. Nothing I say makes a difference to him but he sees you as a brother, you have to do something, he’s spiraling into a dark state of mind thats not letting him move on!”

“Kori...”

“Dick you need to do something. This isn’t healthy it isn’t normal--”

“ Kori I understand you’re worried. I’m worried about him too. But...I also understand what he’s going through...when...back when I first lost Gr--lost Her all those years ago...I was exactly like Damian is now. I didnt want to accept it, I refused to accept she was dead, even when she died in my arms Kori. I know that his obsession isnt healthy or even really helpful for him but I understand it. He’s in pain and distressed and angry and this unhealthy denial is natural. He just needs more time, some more supervised space, and understanding...”

Damian walked away from that room before they noticed him, a small bubble of gratefulness in his chest at Grayson’s defense. But he was still angry.

She wasnt dead. How could even Grayson give up on her so easily?!

He knew they thought he was going crazy by the middle of the second month, that he was seeing things that werent even there. At a person who wasnt there.

The denial and obsession got worse. And with it so worsened his temper.

They stopped speaking her name around him when he almost took off Beast Boy’s head with his sword for mentioning her name in a past tense. He forgot to eat a couple days at a time, he now outright refused to go on missions. He didnt understand. How could they go on these other pointless, unrelated missions when she was out there, alive and possibly in need of help. He started losing more and more sleep, time not spent searching filled with restless hours of nightmares. Of her, calling his name, of her lost and alone in a strange unfamiliar place, of her captured and tormented.

Those ones he’d wake up in a cold sweat and spend the rest of the night searching, sometimes waking up screaming with bangings and pleads to be let in on his locked door.

Damian knew she was out there. She was leaving him a trail, he just had to figure it out and follow it.

By the third month he looked like a train wreck with feet. He was exhausted, empty, and shakily staying awake on blinks of sleep and caffeine. But now he was leaving, constantly leaving his room and the tower to chase after leads and clues to find her. All over the city, all over towns outside the city. He marked each dead end on a map he pinned up to his wall so he didnt follow a wrong lead twice. He was haunted by ghosts of her presence, her laugh, her comments. The only reason he’d remember to eat was imagining her voice in the back of his mind

Damian look at you! You’re not gonna be a good Robin if you dont eat jerk.

So he would eat and go back to his work. Even when his father broke his lock open and dragged him across country back to Gotham to get him away from the city it happened in.

“Shes not dead Father. I know she’s not. Why wont any of you believe me?!”

“ Damian....I know how much it hurts to lose someone...And I know you don’t want to believe it...but sometimes its better to accept reality and move on for them.” He caught the fist the young boy threw towards his stomach. He hadn’t properly trained in awhile, he was reckless and his reflexes had slowed since Kori had stopped him from locking himself in the training room without supervision, before he started finding leads.

“ Damian...”

“ She’s out there, She is still alive Father. I know she is. I dont care what you or Grayson or anyone else says. She is still alive and I will find her and bring her back, even if it ruins me.”

The middle of the third month was practically lived in the Batcave, using every new resource now available to him. He still went out and searched Gotham, searched towns and cities around it ruthlessly. Nothing really stopped him, from requests, orders, threats, even blocking and locking up exits after leaving for patrols. Damian still found his way out and continued following lead after lead. He felt as if he was slowly going crazy, seeing glimpses of her in crowds or on streets. But every time he’d catch them it either wasnt here or she was gone by the time he caught up.

But he didnt give up. He wouldnt give up on her like everyone else.

She never gave up on him, he refused to let her down by not doing the same.

Even as some nights doubts flooded his mind, clouding his resolve.

Shes out there...she has to be....right?

It was the fourth month. He was almost broken from exhaustion and on the verge of completely losing his mind when Grayson gently coaxed him from the Bat Cave to the Tower. He was so exhausted he didnt register the slight apologetic tilt to his worried frown, the almost guilty pleading light to his blue eyes.

When they got to the Tower and Damian set his foot on the pavement he almost pulled out his sword and attacked Grayson on the spot if he had more of a mind to. His anger flared then swept itself away in the wave of emotions that struck him seeing the female figure standing beside Red Hood, looking at him with the small smile he’d almost forgotten.

“ Damian...what the hell happened to you?”

Her voice, low, shocked, concerned and alive was what snapped him into motion, storming over to the two with an enraged look of death.

Her dark hair was longer now, starting to lightly brush her shoulders instead of her ends of her ears. She’d lost a little weight and she was dressed differently than she normally would. But those aqua green eyes were still the same he remembered, eyes dark with concern at his silence.

He kept storming for her, fists clenching so tight his hands began to sting and he looked like he was about to punch them both in the face.

“ Damian...? Shit Damian you look terrible what--” She never got to finish that sentence before Damian was holding her in a bone crushing hug that actually knocked some breath out of her. He held her as tight as he could, held her warm, real, living and breathing body in his grip and let himself relax for the first time since she left him.

She was there, she was ok, she was ALIVE.

He felt her arms slowly but surely wrap around him in response, one hand grasping onto the back of his shirt and the other slipping around his shoulders, her face pressing into his shoulder. Her scent flooded his senses, she smelled a little different, like soap and tacky strawberry shampoo but it was still her.

“ Gracie...Gracie I swear if you ever....EVER pull a stunt like that and fake your fucking death on me again I will kill you myself when i get my hands on you...Dont ever do that again...” His threat didnt bother her by the sound of her soft, apologetic laugh. Her grip around him tightened and his body loosened and uncoiled as if her presence her touch was carefully unwinding a tightly coiled spring. The world around him was a bit of a blur as she moved away to look up at him and press her hand, her warm living hand, to his cheek with a apologetic smile.

“ I wont do it again...I promise Damian...never faking my death again. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you...im sorry.” He shut his eyes and leaned into her hand, letting her voice, her touch, HER wash over him. She was here, in his arms, alive and breathing and talking and HERE.

“ I never gave up...” He felt her perk up at his words, even felt the almost puppy like confusion. He opened his eyes and gave a small vulnerable smile that he only showed few people and his pets. He moved his hands to cup her face before pulling her into another embrace, cradling her in his arms tight as if she would disappear the moment he let go of her.

“ I never gave up on you Gracie...Even when the rest of the world acted like it did....I never stopped looking for you, following the trails you left me.” She smiled, eyes getting wet and glassy.

“ You....Fuck Damian...I really dont deserve you...and I know you almost caught me a few times...” He chuckled softly and leaned his head forward pressing his forehead to hers.

“ Dont ever do that again or I’ll skin your hide.” She gave another soft laugh, the sound almost music to his ears after the past for months of hell.

“ Never again.” He smiled and leaned his face more, the relief physically showing on his body as he pulled her closer.

“ And thank you...for not giving up on me.”

End

And There it is! I know it might be kinda crappy but the inspiration hit and I wrote everything that came to my head! I hope you guys like it and if you have any questions about the Oc Gracie feel free to ask! I love babbling about her!

@phantommoonpeople @preciousthingsareprecious

Please reblog with the tags if you like it!

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laluneandthesun · 7 years

Text

Trigger warning. I'd advise you didn't read this is you have any type of mental health illness or know anyone with one. Or are upset easily or I don't know just don't read this anyone.

It's funny to think that a year ago today. I thought everything was fine. My panic attacks where less frequent and my OCD only flared up when I was real bad. It's also funny to think that a year ago today the worst thing that has happened to me happened. The thing that caused an ongoing battle with mental health problems. And ultimately has caused me a year of pain, sadness and took away all my trust, my personality and happiness. Worst thing is I knew nothing about it till a week later. When she had been to hospital and back. But thank the lord she is alive today. That is something I am ever grateful of. She's so young and talented, it would have been a waste. Apparently it was a cry for help rather than with the intention to leave, but whether that's just what my parents told me I don't know if I'll ever know. For three or four months after that I felt nothing just empty hollow sadness. Or nothing at all. I'd drift through my days doing the required work, going to ballet and school and then staring at my ceiling at night in silence not feeling anything. Sometimes one or two tears would drop from my eyes. If I was lucky. Apparently I didn't go out with my friends very much at this point. Maybe I wasn't invited maybe I just didn't go. I can't tell you. Or maybe it was the fact I was losing the best friend I had at school for the last few years and it was blamed on me. I stopped being friends with her but wasn't emotionally attached to anyone else so wasn't close to any other people at school. I'd like to say these were the hardest couple of months but in all honesty I don't remember them, at all really. I wasn't really living I was breathing sure but not living. F*ck I don't even remember Christmas. In fact I don't remember a lot till about March. I wasn't me anymore. I wasn't the girl who loved ballet, the girl who put her all into her school work, the girl who would walk slowly to school so she could look at the daffodils. I was empty. By December I was in full on breakdown and one day on call to the only two people who had stuck by me the only two people who had invited me out when I barely spoke I cried. I told them what had happened by playing them a particular line of We Don't Talk Anymore because I couldn't even say the words. After that I began to start to feel again my OCD which was rapidly getting worse hit an all time peak. I'd have panic attacks or just flat out sob every single night. Often talking to my friend she guided me through the pain ever single time without fail and I am eternally grateful for that. When it seemed the whole world was turning on me she remained my light. And promised never to leave me. I asked her not to promise me that cos at this point I thought everyone would. But she stayed. I don't even know why. Finally it seemed I was waking up. I screamed into my pillow at night, cried until I was urging on the floor and scratched and hit myself to feel something other than the aching in my heart and head. And yet when I was with her everything seemed to be okay. She made me feel if not happiness because that wasn't feasible at the time. A kind of still that my life had so far lacked since the event. I was reckless at this point walking across the road without checking for cars I didn't want to die. I just didn't care if I didn't live. But then I'd feel bad and apologise to my friend. Still now do I say she gave me something to live for, if not causing anymore pain to my already hurting family. I can't say this was the worst part either, because I was learning to love again and to trust even if it was only one person. No this was the worst. Finally coming to acceptance. I was mourning someone who wasn't even dead, yes they were close, but they were alive. The worst part was always having to check people I cared for were still there. Waking up everyday and hoping to God she was still alive. Being paranoid every minute of the day that I'd turn around and she'd be gone. That was the worst part. Then the more selfish emotions took a toll on me. If be clinging to my friend's shoulders midway through a panic attack whispering 'it should have been me' telling her I would have 'handled it better.' She'd tell me it shouldn't but I can't help wish it had been. Then, I admitted I was angry that they'd even put us all through that and guilty that I thought that. She told me that was understandable. Then the sadness is been waiting for hit and I asked my friend if she thought that maybe in the persons eyes I wasn't enough to live for. And she told me I mustn't think that. But I felt guilty, that I hadn't realised anything was wrong. That I didn't text the person enough. That I wasn't even aware they were in hospital. That I'd done nothing. That I was on holiday when someone who I love most in the world was in hospital because of themselves. I blamed myself. I still do to an extent. I grew a fear of going on holiday. And spent two weeks crying in a hotel room all I wanted was to get back home to my friend so I'd feel safe. One night was really bad. I lost a lot of will but I kept going. Understandably, I believe at least, I was growing very fond of my friend who had stuck by me. She was my safety and my only feeling of love and support at a time where I felt unlovable and unstable. Unfortunately, some people took this the wrong way and at schools and at home a like people alluded to the fact they thought I fancied her. Don't get me wrong I love her with all my heart and she's gorgeous. But no. I don't swing that way and it hurt me that people wouldn't believe me. Even more so when the person who kept it up the most was someone who had once been my friend. It was gradually wearing me down. I felt very isolated and questioned myself a lot. I didn't trust me and that hurt. More recently, I've cried less. But a few weeks ago. I lost it. I fell out with my friend, barely ate (by choice I was obsessed with losing weight) and was physically and mentally probably the illest I've ever been. I shook, couldn't type properly, lost a lot of weight, my eyes were ringed with blue and I was losing my mind I swear. Then, one night I lost all my will, but I knew I couldn't put my family through that again not me and not so soon to the date. So I shook on the floor, gagged and sobbed and then sat on my bed exhausted messaging another friend till it passed. For the next couple days I deleted all my social media apart from messanger to contact the girl who I spoke to that night. She was checking in on me. I watched films and ate, refusing to step on a scale. And spent time with family. I was getting my life back in track. I still felt a little empty without my friend though. It was upsetting me. I needed her like oxygen. But now I can breathe my own oxygen not hers because of those few days. I learnt to live for me. Not for her. Not for the person I love so much that took too many. My friend and I are friends again now. Thank goodness. I love her soooo much. I'd like to say thank you for all her hard work this year. I'd also like to give thanks my loved one is still here. Just a clarification. It was a very close family member in hospital. Not my friend. My friend is the most amazing girl in the world I swear. I'd do anything for her. If you have read this I love you xxx. Thank you.

#OCD #depression #self harm #mental health #mental illness #mental disorder #anxiety #hospitals #suicide #overdose

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actually-impostor · 7 years

Text

The marks we make

Analogical, background Royality

Warnings: none, human au! Also I have no idea how college works in the USA

I made a compromise with @analogical-logicality to get them to finish their homework, this is… probably one of the longest things I’ve ever wrote (almost 2000 words of pure sap, so it goes under a read more) enjoy! And now i gotta run cause holy shmokes im late for class

-0-0-0-0-

The first time Logan saw the mark in his arm he was 7, he asked his parents about it and both smiled at the young child

“It’s the mark of your own one true love”

“My one true love?”

“It’s the person who will love you no matter what, like how papa and I love each other”

“Do you have a mark?”

“In fact we do, here, see for yourself”

In Roman and Patton’s left collarbone stood a mark as big as a hand, a complex design of a crest and a tiger surrounded by warm oranges, soft purples and light reds. Logan stared at his parents mark with awe; it was so big compared to his own

“What does it mean?”

Patton smiled before lowering himself to the eyesight of his son, and softly ruffled his hair

“The crest represents papa, along with a few of the reds and most of the purple”

“Why a crest?”

“Because papa has a lot of influence, and crests represent royalty”

“Then why are you a tiger Dad?”

“Let’s make papa explain that one yeah?”

Roman chuckled quietly, it did made sense though. He lowered to stare at his son in the eyes, Logan staring intently at his papa with his big blue eyes. Roman was always amazed at them, his son was so smart even when he was so young

“A tiger because your daddy is protective, he is a fighter. He is as regal and dangerous as one”

Those words, said with so much security and conviction, burned deep into the mind of the child. His parents loved each other and that was clear, but he had never really noticed the extent. His still developing mind couldn’t grasp the concept of loving each other as much.

The second time Logan noticed his mark was because of his teacher explaining how some marks took longer to appear, and how others took longer to define. How the lucky ones had their mark formed and defined all in the same week. How nothing of that signified a deeper or stronger love, just that different bodies reacted differently.

After that class Logan spent the whole day lightly touching his mark and smiling softly at the tug of feeling he got whenever his soul mate touched his own mark

After that it was a small constant, a reassurance that he had someone who loved and will love him no matter what his classmates said. There was someone somewhere touching his mark at the same time and smiling, there was someone out there that was specifically for him.

-0-0-

High school was… well, it was hard. The teachers were constantly expecting more, and more, and more out of Logan and he wasn’t sure he’ll be able to keep up with their expectations. Add to that the fact he could feel a lot of sadness through the bond and that he felt useless for not being able to do enough and… Well, it wasn’t exactly a good couple of years.

College wasn’t all that different, but thankfully for Logan Talyn and Joan were going to the same college he was and he wouldn’t be too alone, even if all three of them had ended up in different mayors.

He still touched his mark, and felt the connection to his Special Other as clear as he possibly could, but it wasn’t as constant as when both where in high school. Thankfully more often than not the feeling was calm, it was like his soul mate had finally found what made him happy, or maybe he wasn’t in a bad situation anymore.

There were studies in the marks, of course they were. And what most scientist had figure out was that soul mates had a 1-2 year of difference, and that the closer they were the more strong they could feel each other through the mark.

That’s why, when Logan noticed a strong feeling of happiness he was slightly startled. He knew the happiness wasn’t from himself (and honestly who could be happy when he had had to do most of the project alone?) and it felt closer than ever before.

He decided to ignore it for the sake of his emotions, he didn’t wanted to feel disappointed later on, and continue going on his way to the Graphic Design department. Talyn had barely eaten lately and was almost always half asleep whenever he and Joan had managed to get them away from the computer for long. Honestly, obsessing over their project probably wasn’t good for them and yet they still claimed their blood was 90% coffee and junk food.

Once he reached the computer room (was that a kid with a sleep bag? And oh hey, there was another one surrounded by empty candy wrappers and more than 3 Coca-Cola bottles. How were they all alive?) He approached the most… alive looking person in the room. If Logan were to be open he would say the boy was stunning, slightly shorter than the bespectacled boy, with dark bangs covering an eye and dark eye bags under his deep green eyes, a small smirk lifting a side of his face. A simple glasses frame completed the whole picture and made Logan forget how to breathe momentarily.

“Excuse me?”

The boy looked started, jumping a little in his seat and setting a hand on top of his chest

“Y-yeah?”

“Apologies, I was wondering if you knew Talyn?”

“Oh yeah! Friend of mine. Joan came pick them up a little ago. Collapse from lack of sleep, it happens. How’d you know Talyn?”

Logan stared at the boy startled, how was that even a normal occurrence?

“Also a friend of mine, I’m Logan, pretty sure they’ve talked about me. Hopefully you are nowhere near the “collapsing” stage?”

“A little?” The boy looked sheepish “Only got a coke to drink and a sandwich”

“Well, it looks like I am dragging someone to eat anyway. Don’t worry, I pay”

The shorter boy stared at Logan for a second, probably weighting the pros and cons of making someone else pay for his food. But eventually his stomach decided for him, making him blush and bringing a small smile to Logan’s face.

“Thanks… I’m Andrew by the way”

“Pleased to meet you Andrew”

It became routine after that, Logan and Joan would go fetch the two graphic designers and drag them to get actual food and something to drink that hopefully wasn’t coffee or Coca-Cola, and if they were lucky enough the other two would be tired enough to actually sleep instead of surviving by naps (It was hard to decide at first who should carry who, but they settled when the two asleep ones made the choice for them. Talyn grabbing Joan and Andrew curling up near Logan, both seeking for warm)

Logan was curious though, as he always was, because he had never saw Andrew’s mark. He had seen both marks and knew that Joan and Talyn were soul mates, but the nature of their relationship was pretty much platonic so far. And the two had seen his mark already, but none of them had seen Andrew’s mark. It was probably because when they all became friends it was winter, and all of them had been bundled up as much as possible in order to save heat.

In a small part of his brain Logan hoped, with everything he had, that the mark would be the twin to his own. It was a thought that usually made him feel guilty because you weren’t supposed to love anyone but your soul mate… but there was something about Andrew, like some sort of magnetic energy, which pulled him to the boy and made him think those traitors “What if”

Logan’s mark was being surrounded by warm, and happiness, and wow if someone were to throw him to a wall he may stick to it with so much sap. His soul mate had been so happy lately, but today it felt like he was a kid in Christmas morning. And hey, maybe he had the spring to thank for that but he was definitely thankful.

“Guys!”

“Yo Talyn”

“Wait, where’s Andrew?”

“Said he was going to buy more Coca-Cola”

“Okay, I have news but we need to wait for him”

A few minutes later the boy appeared in the range of vision, drinking out of one Coke bottle and clutching a second one in his right hand. When he reached the table and noticed the concerned stares of two out of three he shrugged

“I have to finish a web page for tomorrow, need energy and coffee taste horrible”

“Ugh I forgot. Anyway, let’s not talk about horrible things and let’s talk about how my dad got me the house on the beach for a full week! You three are invited and can’t say no”

“Page design is not horrible. And we are not exactly invited, more like kidnaped”

“An, darling, shush and enjoy the good news”

“When are we leaving?”

“Next month, but prepare to leave at any second!”

A month after that conversation they were all contemplating the house. It was big enough to fit the 4 of them comfortably, and close enough to the beach that they didn’t need a car. They spent the full first day cleaning and setting down their things, but by the second day Joan and Talyn were urging the other two to go down to the beach. Both shared a look and sighed, they couldn’t say no to their friends.

Once they reached the beach and set down the beach umbrella Talyn and Joan jumped right in the water. Logan stared at Andrew a few seconds and sat down beside him

“Are you going to join them?”

“Are you?”

“Perhaps later”

“Same, besides I need to wear sunscreen or I burn like a lobster”

“Would you like a hand on that?”

At Logan outburst (because he really didn’t planed on asking that) both blushed, but Andrew ducked his head and took off his shirt without looking at the taller one.

Logan couldn’t help it, he gasped. There, sitting in the top part of Andrew’s arm and looking as innocently as possible, was the design of a crow and a dove, along with hues of deep blue and black. Both birds were snuggling each other. He traced a finger delicately over the design and smiled, it was the twin design of his mark

“Andrew?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you”

Andrew turned around to stare at Logan in disbelieve, blushing fiercely and gapping. Logan let a rare and soft smile show, really, his soul mate was just too cute.

“Wha- Logan?”

“I love you, I’ve been in love with you since the day I started carrying you to your room”

“Why are you…”

“Because we are soul mates, and I couldn’t stand not telling you”

With that Logan took off his shirt, showing the twin mark to the one Andrew had. The younger boy stared at the mar for a second, his hand automatically reaching out to touch it.

Tears had gathered around Andrew eyes, and in a moment of bravery he jumped hugging Logan and with the impulse throwing the two of them at the sand

“I’ve been in love with you for so long that I forgot what not loving you feels like”

Logan laughed, hugging his partner closer to him and kissing the top of his head. He had never felt as happy as he did now.

#analogical #logan sanders #anxiety sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #joan and talyn #necro writes #why graphic design for anxiety?#because thats what i study and yes everything i described there has happened at least once #i made roman and patton Logans parents

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thejojosanctuary · 7 years

Note

If you could write head cannon/scenarios about kakyoin reacting to his S/O signing Love Like You from Steven Universe as a sort of love confession. If you can't that's okay, I just want some more Cherry Prince love on this blog.

HOLY SHIT WHAT IS THIS? I started writing this thinking - ‘Oh, I’ll make it short it doesn’t need to be long’ but -

-THIS,

THIS is what I ended up with. I’m sorry this is probably really terrible because halfway through I realized I was not as ready for scenarios as I thought I was so I’m really sorry ^-^

That being said I might have to hold back on scenarios for a while, finish the ones I’ve got and just focus on headcanons when I open back up the ask box. I hope you guys can understand :3

Other than that, please enjoy!

- Ghost

Love likeyou – Kakyoin

50 days. 50 long days of pain, torment, struggle and growingbonds is what it had taken to lead to this exact moment. You could hardlybelieve that a group of no more than seven (you included) had been able toovercome Dio and The World; walking away from the final battle with the knowledgethat he’d no longer be able to poison the world with his influence. However ithadn’t truly set in until his body had crumbled into nothingness beneath therays of the morning sunlight. Holly was safe and everyone in your party hadcome away alive.

But that didn’t mean the heavy burden of loss wasn’t uponeveryone’s shoulders.

Avdol had lost his forearms and Iggy had been beaten to apoint of near death at the hands of Vanilla Ice, leaving both of them undercareful watch of the Speedwagon Foundation as they both recovered from theirinjuries and grew accustomed to living with their new prosthetics. You weregrateful that the fortune teller and Boston terrier had been recovering as wellas they had been, checking up on the pair every once in a while to keep up withtheir progress; and yet your true concern lay with a certain cherry obsessedteen.

It had been a miracle that Kakyoin had survived the attackagainst The World, as stated by the medical professionals that had arrived onthe scene to transport him to their facilities; but after several majoroperations and countless observations of his health it seemed as though he wasgoing to survive this ordeal after all. You could still remember the horror youexperienced as Kakyoin’s body had blown back and collided with the water tower,firing off one final Emerald Splash before his body went limp – and you had swornto yourself after learning he’d survive that you weren’t going to let anythinglike this happen again on your watch.

The first few days had been spent in constant worry asdoctors tried to coax him out of an unresponsive state, fearful that at anymoment he’d succumb to his wounds and would never live to return back to Japanor his parents. So when he finally regained consciousness you were practicallyovercome with emotion, desperately clutching to his hand in the fear that youwere going to lose him again as you broke down by his side. From that moment onyou’d hardly left Kakyoin’s side, remaining by his bed side as often as youcould to keep him company and retrieving anything he wanted before he even hadthe chance to finish his sentences.

He appreciated the notion, knowing how draining everythinghad been on everyone, but he disliked how helpless he felt confined to ahospital bed feeling as though he were taking you for granted. And yet he didn’thave the heart to send you away. Your journey across Egypt had brought the twoof you together; at first merely bonding over the fact that you both possessedstands but soon you were genuinely enjoying each other’s presence as youlearned more about the other. Perhaps he had grown a little too close for your ‘friendship’to be called as such (a love-struck crush sounded just about right) and thishad only grown with every moment you had spent doting on him. However he verymuch doubted that he would ever gain the resolve to confess in concern that ifyou were to refuse his feelings the bond you once shared would never be the sameas what it was now; so all he could do is enjoy how things were between younow.

At least, that’s what he’d thought.

It was just another day; however, unlike the weeks andmonths before hand the atmosphere of the room was far more positive anduplifting with the news that had come a few days prior. The doctors hadinformed the high school student that he was now considered stable enough to betransferred back home into the care of a Japanese hospital, and you could telljust how much joy that information brought to him given that it meant he wouldfinally able to see his parents again. It was refreshing to see him in such ahappy mood and it almost made you laugh to watch him practically shuffle in hisbed, anticipating what was to come; and yet there was a small guilty part ofyou that felt almost somber. Returning back to Japan meant that you wouldn’t beable to spend as much time with him as you were now, the looming fact that you’dhave to return back to school and diminish your visits to the hospital makingyou upset. But you were putting on a brave face to get through it, decidingthat talking with the cherry lover while you could was your best way to cope.

With that thought you sighed and looked around the room,taking in just how barren everything was now that his belongings had beenremoved, in preparation for the flight a mere few hours from now. Kakyoinseemed to notice this and chuckled “I suppose the room does look a littleempty, doesn’t it?! He stated, drawing your attention to his position on thebed and you offered him a smile.

“I guess…I can’t believe it’s finally happening” youreplied, walking over to take a seat next to him as you continued to glanceabout the place. His eyes softened, an expression akin to reminiscence playingon his beautiful face.

“It’s almost surreal that a mere few months ago we hadstepped foot inside that mansion to take on Dio” At the mention of that monster’sname you stiffened, memories of that night relaying themselves back to you likea record and Kak apparently seemed to pick up on this, slipping his hand intoyours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Surprised you looked down at thesight before bringing your eyes back up to meet his own violet ones, but theonly reply you received was a warm smile.

“(Y/N), won’t you sing a song for me?” he asked, switchingthe topic to something less painful to recall. Singing was something you had apassion for, a fact which showed from the countless times you had been caughthumming or singing to yourself without even realizing it and Kakyoin had alwaysrequested you to sing for him whenever the stress of his current situationbecame too much. It was because of this that you weren’t taken aback by thecomment and flashed a grin.

“Way to change the conversation there Kak” you teased, butwhen he didn’t relent and instead flashed a cheeky grin of his own you sighedrather dramatically.

“I suppose I could– any choices?” you asked. Normally he would ask for a certain song that he hadheard you sing before or would simply look one up, however this time he simplyleaned back in bed.

“Surprise me” You pouted playfully at his remark, restingyour chin in your hand as you began to think over a list of songs off of thetop of your head. He had already heard the majority of the songs that you knewbut you wanted this one to be something he had yet to hear considering it maybe the last time you see him until he arrives back in Japan. So you beganthinking, and thinking, and thinking – until something finally came to mind.With a smile you looked back down at the teen.

“I think I’ve got one” you stated, watching as he nodded andkept his eyes trained on you, mentally urging you to start. And you did.

“If I could begin to be

Half of what you think of me

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love~”

As the notes began to flow you saw the smile on his face slowlyshift to one of surprise; violet eyes widening ever so subtly as pure wonderovertook his expression.

“When I see the way you act

Wondering when I’m coming back

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love

Like you~”

You noticed the teen raise up into a sitting position, leaningforward and bringing his hands to rest in his lap as he watched you gently swayalong to the song, invisible music filling your ears alongside every note thatpassed through your lips.

“I always thought I might be bad

Now I’m sure that it’s true

‘Cause I think you’re so good

And I’m nothing like you-”

You hadn’t realized that your gaze had shifted to meet Kakyoin’suntil you saw yourself reflected in those vibrant eyes of his, but you couldn’ttear them away even as you felt your face heat up and your heart start to thudpainfully against your chest; something inside of you didn’t want to move andinstead wanted to pour all of your unspoken words into the song and by god youwere going to do it.

“-Look at you go

I just adore you

I wish that I knew

What makes you think I’m so special~”

The pure affection that radiated off of every note and keyand movement seemed to carry over to him and he too felt a flush rise to hisface as he reached out once more to take your hand into his once more; anaffirmative squeeze giving you all the confidence you needed to press on.

“If I could begin to do

Something that does right by you

I would do about anything

I would even learn how to love~”

With both of his hands occupied, something familiar began toemerge from behind him and you watched as Hierophant Green materialized andbegan slinking past it’s user, coming up to cup your cheeks gently with itshands. You hadn’t seen the green stand since the battle with Dio, and from the faintcracks that were scattered across it’s torso you could only assume that it wasstill recovering from the trauma just as Kakyoin was – and yet it had stillcome. Smiling softly, you leaned into the touch, relishing in the warmth whichemanated from the skin against your own as you came to the final verse of thesong.

“When I see the way you look

Shaken by how long it took

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love like you…~”

The room was filled with silence as you voice faded intonothingness, simply staying as you were for the longest of time before therewas any sort of movement. But it wasn’t from you – instead it was Kakyoin, whomoved his hands to take the place of his stands and ran his thumbs down thesides of your face with such care that your cheeks began turning a rosy hue. Nowords were said, but none had to be to get the mutual message across and beforeanything could be said his head dove to lock his lips against yours in a breath-takingkiss.

You gladly reciprocated his advances, pressing back withjust as much passion as your hands came up to squeeze his shoulders. He hummedin approval, head tilting ever so slightly to savour the moment. The kiss endedfar too soon for either of your likings but as you parted you couldn’t help theuncontrollable grin that came to your face upon realizing what had justhappened.

“I suppose that means you like me, eh?” Kakyoin seemed tohuff at your statement but still allowed a grin of his own to form.

“Hmm, I suppose~”he retorted, a teasing tone clear in his voice before his expression becamemore serious. “I love you, (Y/N)” Your heart fluttered at those words, almost disbelievingthat they had come from Kakyoin himself but you still felt a giddy sense of joybubble in your chest. “I love you too, Nori”

A sudden tap on your shoulder drew away your attention backto Hierophant Green, who in turn pointed to the door and its user sighed. “Itappears as though we have company coming” he elaborated, reluctantly allowing hishands to slip away from your cheeks as you separated. Moments later a knockechoed off of the door and two individuals peeked into the room – easily recognizedas members of the Speedwagon foundation by their signature attire.

“Pardon the intrusion, but it’s time for your departure –the flight is ready and Mr. Joestar and his grandson are waiting for you at theairport” one of them explained, tipping their hat in greeting towards the twoof you. You looked back at Kakyoin who met eyes with yours, offering you acomforting smile that conveyed everything before turning to the men in thedoorway.

“Yes, we understand we’re just about ready to leave, right(Y/N)?” All it took was the assuring look in his eyes to make you answer. “Ofcourse we are” They nodded and turned to leave. “Very well, we’ll inform thedoctors and get you over there as soon as possible” they remarked as they left.

This was it – you were finally returning to Japan, together. As if sensing your thoughtsKakyoin merely chuckled, his hand once again finding yours and bringing it upto his lips to press a chaste kiss to top, all the while staring up at you witha gaze of pure affection as he spoke to you.

“Come now love – let’sgo home”

#jjba scenario #part 3 #stardust crusaders #noriaki kakyoin #missmehphistos #request #Ghost's post #please excuse me while I go lay down and cry

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rationalsanskar · 4 years

Text

Mindfulness and Meditation Are Flytraps For Our Impulses

I was introduced to the practice of mindfulness byS. N. Goenka in 1974, a few weeks after being ordained as a novice monk. Together with a group of young Tibetan monks and Western students of Buddhism, I attended a silent ten-day Vipassanā retreat in Dharamsala, India.

During the first three days we cultivated mindfulness of breathing by focusing on the sensation of the breath as it passes over the upper lip. After a while the fugitive passage of inhalations and exhalations consolidated into a stable point of sensation at the center of the lip. This point then became the exclusive focus of the meditation.

In becoming more concentrated, I started seeing flashes of colored lights and patterns in my mind. They did not last long, and we were advised to pay them no attention. By the end of the three days, I had settled into an unprecedented state of focused attention, which I could sustain for several minutes at a time without distraction.

On day four, we moved our focus from the upper lip to a point at the top of the head. From there we carefully expanded our attention to the rest of the scalp, the face, the ears, the neck, until we reached the torso. Then we slowly continued through the rest of the body, along each arm and leg in turn, until we reached the tips of our toes. Once this downward scan was complete, we repeated the procedure in reverse until we returned to the top of the head. We spent each meditation session “sweeping” the body from head to foot and back again.

At first, my experience was patchy. Some parts of the body buzzed, tingled, vibrated, and pulsed, while other parts felt almost completely insensate. As I persisted with the exercise—it was all we did for several hours each day—the dead zones began to come alive until I felt my entire body as one single mass of quivering sensations.

In a deep, reassuring voice, Mr. Goenka instructed us to pay attention to the range of pleasant, unpleasant, and neutral feelings associated with these sensations. A pain in the knee breaks down into physical reactions triggered by the stress on the joint due to sitting cross-legged for long periods and a subjective feeling of that condition as unpleasant. In refining mindfulness, one learns to differentiate between physical sensations or sounds and how one feels about them, thereby enabling one to dwell in a keenly responsive but less reactive state of mind.

Mr. Goenka told us to notice how even the most stubborn sensations and feelings came and went. I found that if I probed deeply into a piercing pain in the knee, at a certain point it would “switch” from being something solid and unpleasant into a rapidly vibrating pattern of sensations that no longer hurt as much. I realized that what I experienced at any given moment was co-created by the physical processes of my body and the way I was conditioned to interpret and react to them.

I remember a time when I was seated cross-legged outside on the grass between meditation sessions in an ecstatic, silent, openhearted awareness while the gusts of wind rising from the plains of the Punjab below Dharamsala seemed to blow through me. The sense of a separate world “out there” being observed by a detached subject “in here” began to break down.

All this took place more than 40 years ago, but its impact remains with me today. It was my initiation into mindfulness, which has been the basis of my contemplative life ever since. Far more than just a technique, mindfulness offered me a new sensibility on life as a whole, an entirely other perspective on how to be a practicing human in the world.

My Tibetan Buddhist education and training during the two years before the retreat had been an ideal preparation for this practice. I was used to spending much of each day cross-legged on the floor, so long hours of sitting meditation did not trouble me. My daily reflections and studies—on the preciousness of human life, the imminence of death, renunciation, existential commitment, an altruistic resolve, and emptiness—provided a fertile soil of value and meaning for mindful awareness to take root in.

Mindfulness is a balanced, reflective stance in which one notices the meanness or sarcasm that rises up in the mind while neither identifying with it nor rejecting it.

I had thought deeply about impermanence and selflessness. Now I was experiencing them viscerally. I found myself part of the living fabric of human experience into which I was inseparably woven yet was at the same time free to examine and explore. Mindfulness, I discovered, was not an aloof, detached regard. Its practice served to sculpt and shape the inner contours of my solitude.

Nor was the idea of mindfulness new to me. For many months I had been studying Shantideva’s A Guide to the Bodhisattva’s Way ofLife. The entire fifth chapter of this 8th-century Indian Buddhist text is devoted to the practice of mindful awareness.

Mr. Goenka provided the tools to turn Shantideva’s teachingson mindfulness into a felt reality, while Shantideva’s reflections provided an ethical dimension for Mr. Goenka’s contemplativepractice. “If the elephant of my mind,” wrote Shantideva, “is firmly bound on all sides by the rope of mindfulness, all fears will cease to exist and all virtues will come into my hand.”

The purpose of mindfulness is not just to be more aware of the breath, bodily sensations, and feelings. For Shantideva it means to be constantly mindful of one’s ethical aspirations. Mindfulness is compared to the gatekeeper at the doorway of the mind and senses, alert to any impulse that threatens to divert you from your goals and undermine you.

“The thieves of unawareness,” he remarks, “follow upon the decline of mindfulness and rob you of your goodness.” They circle around “waiting for an opportunity” to break in and take possession of you. Mindfulness is a heightened attention that notices the very first stirring of reactive impulses and neurotic habits before they have a chance to take hold. “When, on the verge of acting, I see my mind is tainted,” Shantideva tells himself, “I should remain immobile, like a piece of wood.”

The piece of wood is a metaphor for equanimity, not indifference. Mindfulness is a balanced, reflective stance in which one notices the meanness or sarcasm that rises up in the mind while neither identifying with it nor rejecting it. One observes with interest what is happening without succumbing to either the urge to act on it or the guilty desire to ignore or suppress it. This entails a radical acceptance of who and what you are, where nothing is unworthy of being the object of such attention. You say “yes” to your life as it manifests, warts and all, with an ironic, compassionate regard. Through sustaining this nonreactive stance over time, mindful awareness becomes the basis for one’s ethical life.

This perspective is spelled out in the 14th-century Tibetan lama Thogmé Zangpo’s commentary to Shantideva’s text. For Thogmé Zangpo, mindfulness is “the recollection of all one aspires to let go of and realize,” while awareness is “knowing how to do that letting go and realizing.” Mindful awareness thus encompasses the entire project of human flourishing. To be mindful means to remember to let go of compulsive reactivity and realize a nonreactive way of life, while to be aware means to know how to refine the psychological, contemplative, philosophical, and ethical skills needed to achieve these goals.

Ever since the Vipassanā retreat with Mr. Goenka and the study of Shantideva’s A Guide to the Bodhisattva’s Way of Life, thecontemplative and ethical dimensions of mindfulness have been inseparable for me. Mindful awareness both embeds my attention in the raw immediacy of experience and serves as the moral compass that guides my response to that experience.

“What is the power of mindfulness?” asked Gotama more than a thousand years before Shantideva. “The noble practitioner is mindful: she is equipped with the keenest mindfulness and awareness; she remembers well and keeps in mind what has been said and done long ago.”

I do not regard myself as a particularly accomplished meditator. I know others who appear far more dedicated to meditation than I am. Had I been more serious, surely I would have committed far more time to the jhānas than two weeklong retreats. Yet despite my interest in this practice, I have little inclination to spend weeks or months further refining or deepening it. One reason for this lack of interest is that I still notice, many months later, how the effects of these jhāna retreats continue to influence my attention and awareness not only in formal meditation but in everyday life.

Collectedness (samādhi) has now become more integral to my daily practice. My meditation has become more embodied and I give greater value to contentment, rapture, and well-being as part of the process.

Jhāna practice has helped me understand that the traditional Buddhist distinction between “stillness” (samatha) and “insight” (vipassanā) can be misleading. While it might be necessary to present them as distinct practices at the outset, as one’s meditation matures they become increasingly inseparable. In theory I knew this from my Buddhist studies. Yet it was only through doing these jhāna retreats that I understood what it meant in my own embodied experience.

Over the years I must have spent many thousands of hours seated on a meditation cushion, but I still get distracted, listless, and bored. On a typical retreat, I will have good days and bad days. I can sometimes be overwhelmed by an obsessive worry that plagues me for hours. My mood can swing between elation and despondency from one moment to the next. There can be long periods when I do not meditate formally at all. Often I feel like a dilettante.

So why do I persist in an activity that in many respects seems to have made little difference to what goes on in my own mind? I have learned that the value of meditation is not that it changes the content of your experience. It changes your relationship to that content. All the worries, egotistic fantasies, lusts, and pettiness that surge into consciousness are simply the result of previous conditions over which I have little control. They are naturalistic processes that happen independent of my volition. I do not choose to feel them. All I can do is be mindful of them as they arise, recognize them for what they are, and not let myself be too influenced or swept away by them.

In trying over the years to lead a mindful and ethical life, I may have reduced the conditions that provoke the most egregious forms of reactivity. By not acting on those reactions, I may not reinforce them as much now as I did in the past, thus lessening the frequency of their occurrence. Yet how can I know that such benefits are not simply the result of maturity or other factors that have nothing to do with formal meditation practice? Can I be sure that I wouldn’t be experiencing the same thing now even if I had never sat a single hour cross-legged on a cushion?

Scientific studies into the effects of meditation are seeking to answer these questions. While some of the findings suggest that meditation may indeed be a key factor in producing such changes, it would be premature at this point to draw sweeping conclusions about its effectiveness.

As the person in whom the effects of meditation unfold, I am probably in the worst position to judge them. I am too close to the process to be able to see with any clarity the consequences of a practice that I have been doing for so long. Rather than ask me, you should ask my wife, my brother, my old friends. I doubt their answers would be unambiguous.

To integrate contemplative practice into life requires more than becoming proficient in techniques of meditation.

In the end, the only thing that really matters for me as a meditator is how well or badly I respond to the challenges and opportunities presented by the situation at hand. If my contemplative practice fails to contribute to my flourishing as a person in my relationships with others, then I have to question the purpose of spending months and years practicing it. Every moment in life offers the chance to start afresh.

I can embrace what is before me, let go of what holds me back, then speak or act in a way that is not determined by my fears, attachments, or egotistic conceits. Although I frequently fail in my attempts to live in this way, I am convinced that mindfulness, collectedness, and questioning are crucial to my ability to do so.

I likewise do not doubt that by training oneself in contemplative disciplines one can achieve nonordinary states of mind that might sound incredible for those unfamiliar with these things. When Leigh describes dwelling for long periods of time in the jhāna and immaterial absorptions, I have no reason to disbelieve him. fMRI scans of Leigh’s brain in meditation have shown different areas lighting up as he enters different jhānic states. Yet I suspect that the ability to access such altered forms of consciousness is due to a range of factors other than formal training. Not only are some people more highly motivated to achieve such states, they may be more temperamentally and perhaps neurobiologically suited than others to enter them.

“We had the experience,” wrote T. S. Eliot in “The Dry Salvages,” “but missed the meaning.” The meaning of contemplation must not be confused with the experience of contemplation. To be able to dwell in a deeply focused, ecstatic, and clear state of mind is in itself meaningless. You can train and develop your spiritual muscles to an exceptional degree without necessarily flourishing much as a person. Your meditation is meaningful to the extent that it contributes to your becoming the kind of person you aspire to be. And since an ethical vision is integral to your life as a whole, it will inform, suffuse, and transform your contemplative practice.

To integrate contemplative practice into life requires more than becoming proficient in techniques of meditation. It entails the cultivation and refinement of a sensibility about the totality of your existence—from intimate moments of personal anguish to the endless suffering of the world. This sensibility encompasses a range of skills: mindfulness, curiosity, understanding, collectedness, compassion, equanimity, care.

Each of these can be cultivated and refined in solitude but has little value if it cannot survive the fraught encounter with others. Never be complacent about contemplative practice; it is always a work in progress. The world is here to surprise us. My most lasting insights have occurred off the cushion, not on it.

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portfolionicolio · 7 years

Text

Mother!

On Friday, I turn twenty-three years old.

My mother, grandmother, and sister came to my house today. My sister and I had plans to go out to dinner. Her birthday is a day before mine - she is five years and three hundred and sixty four days younger than me, so we planned to celebrate together. My mother and grandmother came to drop her off at my house beforehand.

“Happy Birthday,” my Grandmother hands me a card and kisses my cheek.

My mother and I don’t make eye contact. I can’t remember the last time we did.

I give my sister her birthday card.

My mom starts: “So for your birthday this year. . .”

A few years ago, when I was still under my mother’s policy, a birthday meant a free month of car insurance.

“I am going to drop you off the phone plan this month,” she continues.

A year ago, she’d gotten in the habit of trying to guilt me about the fact that I’m still on her phone plan, and that she foots the bill. I immediately told her to take me off of the plan. She then told me it was actually saving her money to have me on it.

I remind her of this, but I’d had enough.

“Just take me off.”

At our birthday dinner, my sister and I talk about our family. We admit we sometimes cry because our grandmother is too cute for words. We also admit we cry about our father often. It’s difficult to explain why.

My sister is my absolute best friend. She is deeply intelligent. She screeches when she notices something funny. She is resilient and hopeful. She sees things for how they are.

My mother, she says, has stopped buying groceries. They eat out most nights, or subsist on snacks. They almost never eat a meal at the table in our dining room.

When I still lived at home, we ate dinner at the table every night.

My mother, she says, has been taking the entirety of my sister’s paycheck every month. My parents put out money for my sister’s first car, and my mother has been forcing her to make 500 dollar installments for every paycheck she earns until its payed back. My sister used to buy groceries for herself, chicken breasts that she’d cook and eat alone, but now she doesn’t have the money for it.

It is difficult to describe our situation to people who aren’t us. We have seen the secret few are privy to, and even fewer will reveal. Our mother is somehow very threatening, although she’s barely over five feet tall.

To others, she is considerate, friendly, outgoing, caring; a genuine, good person. She is well liked. But this has never been the mother we’ve known.

We had a mother and a father. We lived in a house. We weren’t hungry, or cold. We spent most of our time with our mother, while our father worked. By more than a few standards, we were alike many of the other families in our town.

But I always felt somehow separate from most of the other people I knew. I was extremely prone to sadness as a child. I was painstakingly self-conscious. In elementary school, I had to keep myself from crying during the pledge of allegiance every morning. I didn’t understand why it happened, because, being so young, I didn’t think I was sad about anything.

I actually cried every morning before school. Daily, while getting me ready, my Mom pulled my hair into the tightest half-up ponytail she could. She ripped through my knots with the brush. She didn’t hold the roots of my hair like my father did when he brushed it. She tied the hairband so tight that my scalp felt icy under it. I told her it hurt, but every morning she pulled it up into the same high half-pony, and every morning I cried, hoping no one would notice when I got on the bus.

In middle school, I developed a sweating problem. My feet would sweat terribly, and my armpits were damp no matter how much deodorant I used. It wasn’t on hot days. It was in the breezy fall, the dead of winter, early spring. It was every day at school.

But I did well in school. I excelled in sports and I was a high honor roll student, so no one noticed anything was wrong.

I started watching my little sister while my parents were out when she was three. I was nine. She challenged me. She was wild, and wanted my attention. She wanted any attention.

She was innately different than I’d been as a baby. A few weeks after I was born, my mom took me to the doctor because I never cried. But my sister came out of the womb screaming, and didn’t stop. She had a vivaciousness that I was born without. I had a natural easy-going-ness that was opportune for my mother to control. I strove to be perfect for her. I changed myself in exactitude to what she wanted me to be. But Andreanna’s nature could not be so easily molded. She was stubborn and outspoken and alive.

While my parents were at work, I watched her for summers at a time, asking her questions, reading to her, trying my best (in a way that was almost unnatural for someone my age) to raise her to be the best person she could be.

When my sister was in middle school, she posted a story on her newly created Facebook. It was very well-written for a twelve year old. It was about a young girl’s inner thoughts as she contemplated killing herself.

My Aunt, also on Facebook at the time, and concerned about what she saw, called my sister’s guidance counselor.

“Please don’t tell my Mom,” my sister pleaded with the counselor.

But they did.

When my sister got off the bus that afternoon, my mother was waiting for her at the end of the driveway.

“I don’t need the school calling me telling me that my daughter wants to commit suicide,” she said, “You don’t have anything to be sad about.”

And that was the end of the discussion.

“Yeah, Poppy just died, and my sister was gone, but no, I didn’t have anything to be sad about,” my sister says at our birthday dinner.

That was the year that our great-grandfather passed away, and the year I moved out after high school. Leaving her alone in that house is something I still feel guilty about.

That was a few years after my Mom started calling my sister fat. She was not even slightly overweight. She had a different build than my mother and I, she took after my father’s more athletic, built side of the family.

One of the most heartbreaking conversations I’ve had with my mother was when I pulled her aside at my grandmother’s house after she’d called my sister fat, sending my sister into a violent fit of tears. I desperately tried to explain to her that she was at the age when girls are most sensitive about their bodies, when they are most susceptible to criticism, when they are most likely to develop eating disorders. I begged her to stop commenting on my sister’s body. I was terrified for my sister’s health, for her safety, for her mental health. If you love her, you won’t say that stuff anymore.

A few hours later, she made a comment about my sister’s backside being way too big.

My mother criticized both my sister and I. To both of us, she was cold and callous, and often cruel, but also sometimes silly, affectionate, docile. She swung between anger and contentment wildly; we never knew which to expect from her.

Within that nature, she treated us in bizarrely different ways. She had to control every aspect of my life, but she didn’t seem to care about the details of my sister’s. I, the putty of a child she’d been able to manipulate since birth, was manicured and obsessed over. My sister, at the expense of feeling cared about, was allowed to grow up more uninhibited.

She’d beat me (not an exaggeration) if I didn’t go on shopping trips with her; she didn’t think twice about leaving my sister at home.

It was an absolute sin if we didn’t all eat at the dinner table when I lived there, but now that I’m gone, the table is bare and the fridge is nearly empty.

My Mother’s father never told her that he loved her. Never said it once. He said he just couldn’t do it. He was an abusive alcoholic who mellowed with age, and sobered after being diagnosed with diabetes.

The grandfather that I knew was much different than the father she had. He was grumpy, but he always liked me. He took me places, bought me presents from yard sales. He got me vanilla wafers from the country store. I liked history, and playing in the woods, and Native Americans and WWII and all the things that he had a library full of books about. We were both fairly reserved. We both liked reading. He was apparently drunk for the first few years of my life, but I don’t remember them.

I think I am the person who saw the most kindness from him. It never struck me that this might feel unfair to my Mom. He passed away a few months ago, and my mother wrote a poem for him. The first few lines mentioned the fact that he’d never said I Love You.

One day, while I was still in high school and living at home, my Dad, my Mom and I were playing tennis on the high school courts.

I wasn’t very good, but it was fun. It was my Dad on one side of the net, and my Mom and I on the other. He’d bat them at her and she’d hit almost all of them. She was very good. On the ones she’d miss, he’d bemoan her.

“C’mon!”

I, on the other hand, missed most of his passes. On the ones that I’d actually hit, my Dad would cheer and encourage me.

“Nice one!”

He meant no harm; this is the nature of playing with two people with different skill levels. Expect more from the pro, encourage the novice.

After a few too many misses, however, my Mother was getting flustered.

I hit a decent one, and he once again congratulated me.

“Good job!”

“WHAT?!” my mother exclaimed. I jumped. I hadn’t noticed her getting mad.

“You would never say that to me if I hit that one like that!” she was almost in tears.

My stomach turned. Was my mother jealous of me? Jealous of my relationship with my Dad? I felt disgusted. I dropped my racket and ran from the court. I started towards home. The high school was only a few miles from my house.

We never spoke about it again.

I didn’t realize that there was something really wrong with me until I moved out of the house. I had no one telling me who to be anymore, and that made me realize that I wasn’t anyone. I felt unreal, I was severely depressed. I didn’t believe that anyone should love me, or even interact with me. These feelings existed for me before, but now they washed over me like a monsoon. I was not worthy of the friends that I’d already made, and I didn’t see how or why I could make any more. Everyone told me I was great, but it went right past me. I was not a person. Everything that people thought was good about me was a lie, something I’d fabricated to fool people into liking me. Nothing was real.

I eventually called the suicide hotline. I wasn’t planning my suicide, but I didn’t know who else to call. I needed help and I hoped they could point me in some sort of direction. The woman who answered was a mother, she said.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded.

I explained, or tried to. I didn’t know how to say it all. I didn’t know if I really had a reason.

“Have you planned how to kill yourself?”

“No.”

“Do you feel like you’re going to kill yourself if an ambulance isn’t called immediately?”

“No.”

“So you’re telling me nothing’s wrong? You don’t have any reason to be calling this number,” she told me. “You don’t have any reason to be sad.”

A mother, she said. I apologized through my tears and said goodbye, and wondered if she began working at the hotline because of her child’s suicide.

I have only my friends and my sister to thank for making it through that year. My friends kept me company, and my sister gave me a reason to stay alive.

My second year of college, I moved off campus. My first year, my Mom told me her and my Dad would match half of whatever I earned during the year, to help me pay for living expenses and food. That never happened, and it was never addressed. With no financial safety net, and the stress of school full time, I ended up in the hospital after a severe anxiety attack. My heart had been beating out of my chest for a month. It was actually sore. I lost fifteen pounds because I had no appetite. I’d gone to the doctor thinking I was developing asthma. It ended up just being another physical symptom of the anxiety. One day, I felt like my heart was going to explode with terror.

My friends took me to the hospital, my girlfriend at the time sat with me for thirteen hours in the psych ward until I could see the psychologist. I didn’t tell my parents I was there because they certainly wouldn’t be of any help or comfort to me.

That was three years ago, the day after Halloween.

Since then I’ve been to three different therapists, taken Lexapro for a few months, dropped out of school, gone through intense periods of depression. I’ve discovered a name for what my mother is: a Narcissist. I’ve read articles about daughters of narcissists that could have been written by me.

“Narcissistic mothers cannot love their children. Did they ask to become narcissists? No. Do they cause psychological harm to their children? Yes. The psychodynamics between the narcissistic mother and her child are very complex but clear. When we have a mother who is emotionally and psychologically unavailable, who blames us for everything we do or don’t do and who is constantly projecting her venom on to us, there is no way to be our real selves. The extreme fear and anxiety and feelings of inadequacy and rootlessness that these mothers cause to their children is monumental. These children never have had a true home where they could find solace, respite, acceptance, affection, freedom and psychological and emotional safety.

Home is a war zone–both hot and cold wars rage behind closed doors. Narcissistic mothers are highly secretive and make sure that in the outer world their beautifully constructed image is perfect. They purposely build relationships with friends and acquaintances and other family members designed to always see them in the best light–as good, kind, considerate individuals. Only a few in a family or social group are not fooled by them. Often these individuals keep quiet and don’t reveal the truth because they are very intimidated by the forcefulness of the narcissistic personality. They decide not to make waves or speak out.”

- Linda Martinez-Lewi, Ph.D.

When I send my sister a link about being a daughter of a narcissist, she replies that she doesn’t exactly feel what the article is describing.

In her statement there is a victory. I would not wish these feelings on anyone, especially not my sister, the one I love most. I can comfort myself in thinking: maybe I shielded her from it. But what is closer to the truth is simply that while my mother obsessed over me, she let Andreanna alone.

But she has her own issues.. The sadness that appeared in her middle school Facebook post has not wavered. She is bubbly and alive, but within her runs a dark, secret river of feeling un-cared-for. She is drawn into relationships that control her, because she was denied this type of love that she saw showered upon me. She has trouble articulating deep emotions, and is prone to angry or emotional outbursts.

Having a narcissistic mother is knowing your creator, and your disease.

I have been surviving. I have relied heavily on my best friends, my chosen family, my first real supportive one, to get me through it.

On Friday, I will turn twenty three years old. I feel stable. I live with a person I love and his father, and our dog, and I have two steady jobs.

But it still overwhelms me sometimes, more than sometimes. It overwhelmed me after hearing my sister at dinner tonight, reminding me that our mother is somehow getting worse. She’s barely coherent, she’s more childish and moody, she isn’t buying enough food.

“She’s just decided that she’s done being a mom,” my sister said.

My mother and I barely have a relationship, except when she talks to me about money--what I owe her, how she can get out of my student loans she never wanted to take as quickly as she can. She has disrespected me, she has embarrassed me, she has hurt me. She has done all this to my sister too. And to my father, though he’ll probably not admit it.

But as I sit here writing this, I’m no longer angry. Well, okay, I’m still a little angry. But mostly I wish I could heal this woman who is obviously in such deeply rooted pain, so deep that even she can’t see it. She’s denied to herself and everyone else that it’s there. The way she treats us is just a way to deal with herself.

She’s a narcissist, something that many people claim cannot be treated. I don’t want to see her get worse, and I don’t know how to help her. And we, her daughters, have to heal ourselves, too.

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