#also I’m so glad I let go of wanting to make a more grounded haunting

[sidhewrites]

One of my favorite tropes is when you have a character go through a majorly unsettling event of some kind that leaves them rattled but they still have to talk to someone afterwards. at a loss for coherent thought they just say a few relevant words and then go silent for someone else to take the lead.

I was reading over a later scene in girl in the graveyard where kaz essentially has to deal with a scary ghost librarian to get the info she needs on who’s haunting her, and ends up in a sort of. Pocket ghost dimension of archived files and preserved documents stretching far beyond what the library basement should ever be. But the ghost librarian is helpful, even if she’s terrifying and also mean, and kaz walks away with a box of death certificates and newspapers.

Having just survived her first major foray into whatever the fuck that was, she presents the box to Josie and says distantly, “ghost box.”

“ghost box?”

Kaz nods. “Ghost box.”

[rosylix]

flower

짙은 어둠 속에 피어난, 한 송이 꽃처럼 𔓘

after practicing with felix, you try to go back to normal. unfortunately, the universe doesn't seem to want that for you.

pairing: bff!felix × gn!reader

wc: 7.3k

content: two pining idiots, inexperienced reader, fluff! (but make it awkward), slight angst, smut?ish, only one bed trope kinda lol, wet dream (like kinda somno? not really but just in case), 'dude' is used gender neutrally. umm yea! college au

a/n: so i got a bit carried away and added way more plot than necessary here. woops. also made it a college au bc why not! kinda made them nerds sorry lol (they were always nerds.)

so this is the first segment of the final part. aka part 3 but there will be a part 4 [dizzy emoji].. for now i hope you enjoy this bit! 𖹭

[also read on ao3]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

—

A week passes, and contrary to your expectations, the two of you actually do go back to normal. At least, Felix seems to have, so even if your brain still feels a little funny around him you follow suit and pretend nothing happened.

Not that it's been easy. Especially when his neck was still covered in those stupid marks you left. Thankfully, he can cover them up pretty well (you know, considering the state you left him in) but it was still irritating as hell; seeing the shape of one just barely peeking out of his hoodie or the way you’d find your eyes instinctively drawn to his neck whenever you saw him throughout the week.

The marks have faded to the point of being barely visible, but they're permanently seared into your brain, along with the memory of him underneath you. But that’s all it is now, a memory. You make sure of it.

And it's fine. Mostly. It’s easy enough to ignore any lingering awkwardness by focusing on more important things. For instance, midterms are coming up, and Felix is losing his mind.

He’s sprawled out on the floor of his room, papers spread out around him and a pout on his lips. “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m gonna have to study all weekend,” he whines, throwing his pencil down in frustration. He’s been studying for hours and he’s already at the ‘pulling his hair out’ phase.

“Yeah…” you agree with a half sympathetic, half amused smile. He always gets like this around exam time. 

He lets his head fall onto the ground in front of him, narrowly avoiding the various papers, pencils, and textbooks littering the floor. "Why do they have to make these fucking tests so hard? It's not like the stuff we're learning is even relevant to anything. Oh my god. I'm gonna fail,” he says, voice muffled from under the carpet.

“You’re being dramatic,” you laugh as you toss the textbook you’d been reading for your own class aside.

Felix groans and (dramatically) turns over on his back. “I am not being dramatic. I’m suffering!” he exclaims, bringing his hands to cover his face. “I am dying. I’m a dead man and you don’t care. You're gonna have to plan my funeral after this.”

You roll your eyes. “Ohh nooo. You have to study over the weekend. It’s the end of the world.”

He peeks out from under his hands to glare at you. “I'm glad this is so amusing to you. You're supposed to be my best friend but you're doing nothing to help. Wow. I’ll haunt you when I'm dead after this.”

You laugh and roll your eyes again. This time, your eyes seem to catch on how his hoodie is pushed up above his waist a little from when he flopped onto the floor, showing a sliver of skin. 

...Seriously? Focus. Think about literally anything else right now.

Shaking your head, you slide off the bed and make your way to him, sitting down and crossing your legs next to his head. “Sit up and I’ll help you study,” you sigh.

"But I don't wannaaaa,” he whines, but he starts to sit up anyway. “I just wanna relax,” he pouts like a child, looking up at you with his signature puppy eyes. “Help me procrastinate instead?”

You laugh in disbelief. “You've procrastinated enough. Shouldn't you focus?”

(You haven’t been very focused either, but that's besides the point.)

He shakes his head fervently and slumps against you with a groan. “Nooo. Stop being responsible. Let's take a break.”

You huff, choosing to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster when he leans against you. “You’re so annoying,” you say, trying to sound frustrated but you can’t help if it comes out a little fondly. “Alright, fine. We have been at it for a while,” you admit.

He pulls back and grins, all too familiar with your inability to deny him when he’s being a big baby like this. It's too effective. It’s actually a little infuriating how good he is at being cute, and how effective it is on you. You cave. Every time. Though, this time he looks particularly pleased with himself.

“See? Even you couldn’t be the responsible one for that long,” he snickers. “I knew you’d give in.”

You groan and look away, as if that will somehow counteract his point. “You're a bad influence.”

He laughs again, shifting backwards before flopping back down to the floor, but this time he lays his head in your lap, smiling up at you. The close proximity has your heart fluttering in your chest and you swear you can feel yourself overheating a little. Why is he like this?

This is normal. It’s normal. Chill.

He grins up at you, oblivious to your internal crisis, and he makes himself more comfortable in your lap, shifting his body a little. "There. See? Isn't this so much better than studying?"

You swallow. The warm weight of his head in your lap, the way he peers up at you through thick lashes, hair falling around him like a halo, some of it falling into his eyes... It's— it's something.

You clear your throat, gently pushing him off, ignoring his little frown as you do so. You stand up and extend your hand down to him and sigh. “Come on. Let's go procrastinate then.”

“Ugh, why—” he starts to protest but you grab his hand and help pull him up anyway. “What are you doing? I was comfy,” he pouts.

You give him a sly look. “So, you don't wanna make cookies with me?”

You have to resist the urge to laugh at the look on his face. “Wait, really?” He perks up instantly, eyes glowing.

“Yeah, I mean, if you want,” you smile.

He bounces on his feet. “Yes! Can we make the ones with the white chocolate chips? The store finally had them when I checked last time.”

You make a face of mock disgust as he starts pulling you towards the door. “No, we are not making the ones with white chocolate chips. They're atrocious.”

“What?!” he gasps, acting scandalized. “Fuck you. They're good!”

You roll your eyes at him as he pulls you into the kitchen. He’s still holding onto your hand. It should be normal, but since when has anything felt normal these past few days?

“White chocolate chips are fine! I don’t get why you don’t like them,” he continues with a pout, finally letting go of your hand to rummage through the kitchen cabinets.

“They're not even chocolate, Felix,” you point out, watching in amusement as he struggles to reach the top shelf.

“Okay? I'm failing to see your point," he replies, making a little noise of triumph when he finally reaches whatever he’s looking for.

You just shake your head. “Yeah, whatever…” You help him set some things on the counter before sighing. “You're so lucky your dorm has a kitchen. If I had one I swear I'd be baking stuff like every single day.”

“I guess I am lucky.” He laughs, grabbing the mixing bowl from the corner cabinet and placing it on the counter. “Isn't there a shared one for your floor or something?”

“Yeah, but it's…” you shudder.

“Ah. Yeah…” He pauses, pondering something, before raising an eyebrow. “So that's why you come over so much? For the kitchen?”

“Duh.”

"I knew it… You’re only using me for free oven access?” he teases. "I’m wounded.” He drapes his hand over his forehead in a dramatic flourish and slumps against the counter.

“Yep, you caught me,” you laugh. “You and Hannie keep it somewhat clean at least.”

“My own best friend… The betrayal…” he tries to pout but ends up giggling. Then, he seems to think of something and claps his hands excitedly. “You should move in with me!”

Whoa. “W-What?”

“You know how Jisung is always over at Minho's? He's gonna officially move in next year,” Felix explains. “Like, I'm happy for them but Sung's ditching me? What happened to the bro code? But, anyway,” he laughs. “There'll be an empty bedroom. You should totally take it!”

You blink at him, brain short-circuiting for a second. "You— you’re serious?"

"Yeah," he says casually, like he didn’t just propose something so life-altering. "It’ll be like a sleepover every night!” he exclaims, grinning widely.

You can’t help the way your heart thuds a little faster in your chest, a fluttery feeling in your stomach. Living together? With Felix?

The idea is tempting. Like, incredibly so. Your own place is small, the communal kitchen area is… horrific, and your roommate tends to ignore your existence. It's a bit less than ideal.

But… you know there's a big risk of things becoming very awkward very quickly. It sounds like a dream, and at the same time, it’s a recipe for disaster. Spending that much time together could either bring you closer or push you apart. And with your recent… weirdness.. about him… you’re not sure which one is worse.

You must be silent for too long because Felix glances at you and looks a little unsure, like he suddenly regrets saying it. “I mean— you don’t have to, of course! It was just an idea. I’m sure you’re comfortable in your place and all. I didn’t mean to, like, push that on you—”

You cut him off before he can go too far. “No! No, it’s—” you shake your head, trying to choose your words carefully. “I… I'll think about it.”

He looks surprised, like he wasn't expecting that response. He lets out a breath, relief and a tentative excitement evident on his face. 

“Okay,” he says softly, the corners of his mouth twitching a bit like he’s trying to keep himself from breaking into a big smile. “Uh, yeah, of course. No pressure,” he continues. “But, y'know, I'd be way happier to have you than some random new person. You practically live here already anyway. I think it'd be fun.”

Or it could ruin everything. But when Felix smiles at you, a hopeful look in his eyes… you can't bring yourself to shut down the idea completely.

“Yeah. It might be fun,” you say, trying to keep your tone neutral.

He grins, and a wave of excitement suddenly washes back over him. "We can bake all the time, and play games, and watch movies— Oh my god, it would be so fucking awesome.”

You laugh at the sparkle in his eyes. "Yeah, okay," you tap his head with a mixing spoon. “Shut up and grab the sugar. Let's not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Yessir.”

—

You end up splitting the cookie dough and making half with normal chocolate chips and half with the ugly white sugar chips. They turned out better than they had any right to be, considering you and Felix goofed off a bit too much while making them. (Even the white chocolate ones are pretty good). The two of you munch on them as you return to studying. Felix doesn't argue, content having taken a long break and sugar in his system.

You work in comfortable silence, listening to the soft pitter patter of rain until the sun starts to set. With a yawn, you shut your laptop in front of you.

"I think I'm done for today," you say, standing up and stretching.

Felix glances up from his spot on the floor, chin in his hand, surrounded by a mess of books and papers. "Really?"

"Yeah. How about you?"

He sighs, leaning back and stretching. "I still have so much left to go through," he complains, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"That's your own fault for playing games all week instead of studying," you laugh softly.

He pouts at you. "I know, I know." Then he groans and falls backwards on the floor, throwing his arms over his face. "Man, I'm tired. I'm done too."

You giggle at the sight of him splayed out on the floor. “Alright, cool. I should be heading out anyway,” you say, starting to gather your things. Then, as if on cue, a loud rumble of thunder echoes outside.

Oh shit. You both glance at each other, then towards the window, where the rain you thought would have passed by now is quickly developing into a full-on storm. Great. The universe must be out to get you.

Felix gets up from the floor and walks to the window. "Damn, can you even go home in this? It looks pretty bad out there.”

You join him at the window and peer outside. The rain is coming down harder, droplets hitting against the windowpane incessantly. You grimace. Well, it's not that bad, but it still isn't something you'd like to walk through.

Oh well. You sigh. “It's.. it's alright. Could I borrow an umbrella?”

He doesn’t answer right away, continuing to peer out the window. A frown spreads across his face before he speaks. “Of course, but… are you sure? You can stay the night if you want.”

“Uh—”

Well… normally, you wouldn't mind. You've slept over tons of times before. But this time feels different, and suddenly the thought of staying is a bit nerve-wracking. 

"A little rain won't kill me,” you settle on saying. 

Felix glances back at you, eyebrows furrowing in concern. He looks like he's about to say something, but another crash of thunder interrupts him.

He frowns and crosses his arms, leaning against the frame of the window. It's undeniably attractive. “A little rain? I can't let you walk home in this, are you crazy? It's dangerous.”

“But—” you start to protest.

"Nope,” he cuts in. “You’re not risking it. It's getting dark too,” he points out. He looks outside, then back at your face, sighing. His face softens. “...Okay. If you really want to go, at least let me walk you.”

“You don't have to walk me, Felix.”

“Yeah, I kinda do. Who knows what could happen to you? You could get struck by lightning! Or…” He gives you a once over. “You could, like, slip and bleed out in a puddle or something. Or die of hypothermia or some fucking thing. I don't know!” He throws his hands up.

You let out a breathless laugh. You don’t want to argue with him, but staying the night is definitely making you anxious to think about. You don't want to trouble him with walking back and forth in that weather either, but Felix seems stubborn on the matter. What's worse, the look on his face has you worrying he might think you're trying to get away from him or something.

(Which isn't… wrong. But Felix would misunderstand. It's not because you don't like him. It's…)

You exhale, looking outside one more time. With the rain getting worse by the minute, staying the night seems like the only reasonable choice. 

Felix taps his foot impatiently, observing the growing storm. “So?”

“Okay, fine. I'll stay… You're right, it's getting pretty bad out there," you concede.

He opens his mouth but then quickly shuts it again, suddenly looking a bit unsure. He studies your face and you almost want to hide at how intently he's staring. Why, why is he staring like that? Like he can see right through you. Didn't you just say what he wanted? Did he change his mind about letting you stay?

But, the moment passes before you can do anything and he looks away. "Thank god,” he huffs. “I was really fighting off the mental images of your dead body in a ditch.”

You scoff. “I'm not that weak.”

“I know,” he says with a soft smile. Then he smirks, glancing back at you. "You're not weak. Just clumsy.” 

You shove him in response and he laughs, the smirk on his face turning into a grin. The tension from earlier dissolves a bit and you can finally breathe again; the air starts to feel less awkward, comfortable.

“So,” he says, standing up straight. "Since you're staying, want some clothes to change into? I don’t think you wanna sleep in jeans.”

He doesn't wait for an answer, already shuffling through his drawer and handing a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants over to you.

You take them gingerly, trying to ignore how your nerves suddenly spike again. "Thanks," you murmur, clutching the soft fabric in your hands.

Maybe he senses something because he keeps his distance, eyes roaming over your face once more, curiosity and something else in his gaze. 

Then, he clears his throat. “You know the bathroom is all yours if you need,” he says, turning back to his mess of papers on the floor. “I'm gonna try to get a little more studying done. Maybe. I'm really fighting the urge to open League right now.” 

"Felix," you raise your eyebrows at him with a laugh, "If I find you mid ranked match in twenty minutes, I'm pouring water on your computer."

He purses his lips. “You wouldn't.”

“Try me,” you taunt and make your way to the bathroom. You close the door behind you and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

That was good. See? You can banter with him and everything like normal. There's nothing to be weird about. You can be normal about this.

You sigh. Yeah, right. This is so dumb. You’ve stayed over countless times before. You’ve worn his clothes before, shared a bed with him before. It's just Felix.

So why… Why is it so hard to be normal right now?

(You're not so stupid you don't know the answer to that. You're definitely in denial about… something, and you'll gladly stay that way for as long as you can help it. It's easier to not think about it.)

Your head hurts. God. Maybe a shower will clear your mind.

It does. You feel lighter and refreshed when you step out and you quickly change into the clothes Felix gave you; his scent envelopes you as you slip on the shirt and you instantly feel more at ease, comforted. You're good. Everything's cool.

When you step into Felix's bedroom, you find him exactly where you left him, leaning on a pile of pillows on the floor, hunched over a textbook. True to his word, he's trying to study again but he looks like he's seconds away from giving up.

"Hey,” you announce your entrance. “Successfully resisting the clutches of League?” you ask, giggling at the sight of him sprawled on the floor.

“Heyyy,” he drawls, not looking up from his book. “Proud of me? I'm actually studying. Not like I'll ever reach silver no matter how much I fucking—”

His words seem to die in his throat as he finally glances up and sees you standing in the doorway. His eyes widen instantly, scanning up and down your body, lips parted in shock.

"That's, um, um. That's—” he stutters, tongue tied all of a sudden. 

You frown a bit at his reaction, feeling self-conscious. Is your hair too flat? Are the clothes not right? You adjust the falling neckline of the shirt before taking a seat on the floor, trying to ignore the way he's still staring.

You swear you see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and he quickly looks away as you sit next to him.

“...What?” you ask, trying not to assume the worst.

“You— uh, the,” he gestures to your outfit vaguely. “It fits, uh— better? Than it used to? Yeah. Looks nice.”

He sounds a bit strangled and now you're definitely convinced you look strange.

“Um, thanks…" you mutter, trying not to show how thrown off his reaction has you feeling. You toy with the hem of the soft material self-consciously. Obviously they don't fit properly, they’re Felix’s clothes after all. You’ve borrowed them before, why is he suddenly being so weird?

Felix fidgets with the corner of his textbook, avoiding eye contact as if the words on the pages are suddenly the most interesting thing he’s ever read.

He clears his throat. “Uh, yeah, anyway. I'm pretty much done. Was just waiting for you.” He closes the book and finally lifts his eyes to meet your gaze and he has a strange, shy smile plastered on his face. You open your mouth to ask if he’s alright, but he starts speaking again, barely giving you a moment to get a word in.

“I— Dude, I'm like— I'm honestly gonna fail this class,” he groans, burying his face in his hands. “Like, I'm actually just not built for academia. I’m gonna drop out and then start working at the… fucking convenience store or something.” He lets out a long sigh. “Or, y'know, I'll start streaming. That seems pretty nice. I could be, like, a huge streamer guy. Tons of people will watch. I'll be famous. You could be my manager.”

You blink, trying to make sense of the sudden topic change. 

“Uh, First of all,” you say, gently knocking his knee with your own, “You're smart as hell. You'll graduate just fine. Second, I highly doubt many people would suddenly start watching some nerd’s League streams.”

He whines and gives you a pouty look. “Why not?? I’m funny, I’d be great,” he protests, sitting up with a huff.

“Yeah, right. I’d be managing a streamer who can’t even get to gold rank. Embarrassing.”

He scoffs, acting offended. “Hey! I didn’t say I'd make League streams. I could be a variety streamer, y’know.”

“Oh yeah? So you can stream how fast you lose at every game?” you say, grinning at his sulky expression. You understand him, the way he teases you all the time. It's fun when you're not on the receiving end. 

He places a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “Wow,” he deadpans. “Can’t believe you're attacking me like this in my time of despair.”

You grin a bit and roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Stop being dramatic, you know I’m right. You need to get better if you want to start your streaming career.”

“Dude. I could get to gold if I wanted to. I just... choose not to. Bronze is a good rank, y’know. It’s like, the vibe.” The pout returns on his face. ��Plus, my viewers wouldn’t care about that. They’ll be there for my personality.”

You arch a brow. “Your personality.”

“Yeah, my personality! Shut up. If League doesn't work, I could play like, Call of Duty, or… or like, Animal Crossing! Hey, I can't lose at Animal Crossing now, can I?”

“You might be onto something,” you muse.

“No…” he groans. “It’s never gonna happen. My dreams of becoming a famous streamer have to die because of… stupid calculus and… all these boring things.”

He drops his head on your shoulder, pouting at the thought of having to spend more time studying. You laugh and reach a hand up to pat his head, playing with his hair absentmindedly. 

"It's not that bad. You'll get through this," you say, trying to console him. "But seriously,” you continue, “I can’t believe you play so much League but never got past bronze. What are you even doing?”

He whines and buries his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling something about “bad teammates”.

The contact is familiar and comforting. He gets clingy like this often, especially when he's tired. You can feel his warm breath against your skin, its steady rhythm sending tingles down your spine. His hair is soft under your fingertips. And you are so, so normal. 

“Have you ever considered… that maybe you… are the bad teammate?” you can't help but tease.

“Heyyy,” he whines again, lifting his head to look at you with an offended expression.

You giggle at the sight of his disgruntled face and it seems to only make him sulk more, the pout on his face growing deeper. Cute.

“After all we've been through…” he breathes out. “After I’ve trusted you with my life. I can’t believe I’m hearing this from my own best friend… the absolute backstabbing…”

He's ridiculous. "You might wanna think of some new material, Mr. Variety Streamer,” you laugh. “The theatrics are getting a little old.”

He continues to pout, his gaze fixed on you. He’s so close, face just a few inches away from yours, and your heart jumps at the realization. Or maybe it jumps because of the way he’s looking at you; scrutinizing your face intently, his eyes flitting across your features like he’s trying to commit them to memory. You shift around nervously. Something's off about how he's looking at you. You thought you’d seen a flash of… well, you don’t know what it was. But it makes you feel…

Warm and fluttering in your stomach, but in the worst, most uncomfortable way. You hate the way your body reacts so vividly to literally nothing. You really, really hate it.

Luckily (or unfortunately?), a particularly loud rumble of thunder echoes outside and he jumps.

He instantly leans away, as if he just realized himself how close you were. “Sorry, I— Geez, this weather sucks,” he complains, glancing toward the window. The storm outside is still raging, rain pelting against the window mercilessly.

“Yeah,” you say dumbly, feeling cold now that Felix has pulled away.

You push down the thoughts of how badly you want him to lean on you again, or how you wish he could hold you like he usually does. It’s easier to ignore whatever you’re feeling while he’s busy being all silly and clingy.

This is stupid. It's just so… frustrating, and you have no idea what to make of any of the thoughts that are running through your mind.

There’s a pause as he continues watching the rain outside, eyes following the raindrops dancing down the window panes. You try to study his expression; it’s pensive, almost contemplative, much like the look in his eyes earlier. 

“Are you tired?” he finally asks.

You blink. “Uh.” You realize that you are actually pretty tired. “Yeah, a little.”

The admission makes you yawn and Felix smiles in return, his expression softening. 

He pushes himself off the floor and looks at you for a moment, like he's about to say something — and then he doesn’t. Instead, he offers a hand to help you off the ground.

“Come on,” he says, hand extended. “We should get to sleep before the electricity inevitably goes out.”

You let him pull you up and he lets go of your hand quickly as he motions for you to get on the bed.

“I’ll go and— um,” he stumbles over his words, taking a few steps back. “I'll go shower real quick and then we can, uh… sleep.” 

He disappears before you can say anything and leaves you sitting on the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling more tense and awkward than earlier.

You release a long breath. Okay. Okay, everything's fine. Just the two of you, sleeping in the same bed. No big deal. That’s happened plenty of times before. You try to steady your breathing as you sit there on his bed, surrounded by his pillows, his blankets, his scent.

You run a hand through your hair and scroll through your phone, trying to distract yourself. It’s going to be a long night.

When the door opens ten minutes later, you look up. Felix's hair is damp and he's wearing a loose white t-shirt with sweatpants, the material hanging low on his hips. His skin is a little flushed from the shower. He looks so soft and effortlessly pretty, you kind of want to scream.

“Hey,” he whispers as he shuts the bedroom door behind him, “You good?”

You nod, throat suddenly dry.

He clears his throat and walks towards the bed, standing there quietly. He doesn’t look at you for a long minute and you start to wonder if he’s thinking the same things you are, or if you’re overthinking everything and he’s fine.

“Well, let’s head to sleep then.” He breaks his gaze from the floor and turns to look at you again, a hint of worry on his face. “Uh, you can take the bed tonight, alright? I’ll just sleep on the floor or something.”

“What— Why?” you exclaim.

“I—” he blinks, taken aback, as if he didn't expect you to ask that. “I don't know? If, I mean, if you... like…” he trails off, looking away again. “The floor doesn't look that bad.”

It does. The cold, worn floor does look that bad. You must look worse. You're not an idiot, you can read in between the lines. He's uncomfortable sleeping next to you.

There’s no other reason for him to not want to sleep in the same bed as you. You've shared this bed with him countless times before. If he's not comfortable with you now…

Your mind is racing. Even if your awkwardness is because of your unbidden… lunacy towards him… he explicitly told you he doesn't see you like that. As much as you've been trying to repress everything and act normal like he's been… it hasn't worked. This is decidedly not normal.

There's a tense silence as you try to figure out what to say. The knot in your stomach tightens with every passing second and you try to push down the hurt that’s threatening to surface. You're making him uncomfortable. If you could just be normal about all this— Fuck. It's all your fault. 

"Shut up," you finally manage to mutter, starting to shuffle off the bed. “It's your bed. I'll take the floor."

“What— No, hey, stop—” he protests quickly, stepping forward to grab your arm. “Don’t— I couldn't let you do that. It's not— no.” he sputters.

You meet his eyes in confusion. He still has a grip on you, fingers warm and soft against your skin.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” he says firmly, voice a bit lower than usual. “That's stupid. I just thought, maybe…” his grip on your arm tightens the tiniest bit.

“...What?” you ask quietly. 

He shakes his head, releasing your arm with a sigh.

You look at him, really look at him, the way his eyes won't meet yours, shoulders slumped, fingers tapping his thigh nervously. “Just,” you sigh. “You said it's stupid if I sleep there. Same for you. Just come here.”

He looks at you once more, searching your face. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod, hopefully sounding more confident than you feel.

Your heart is pounding. You’re trying your best to ignore the tension in the room and act like everything’s fine. Like spending the night sleeping with your best friend when he clearly doesn’t want you to be close to him anymore isn’t breaking your heart. 

You give him a tight-lipped smile as you finally get under the blankets and lay on your side with your back towards him. 

Felix hesitantly climbs into bed next to you, keeping a fair distance. He doesn’t say anything at first. You think he’s just going to sleep and you’re both going to ignore whatever that was about. Cool, you can do that. You're great at doing that. Then, he huffs. 

"I’m so fucking tired," he mumbles as he shifts beside you and you hum in agreement.

“Yeah, now imagine sleeping on the floor.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Thank you. Um… sorry for being weird.”

You don't know what to say to that. “...You’re always weird,” you manage quietly.

He lets out a low chuckle and you feel some of the tension leave your body. It’s a familiar banter, one you’ve done with him for ages, so you grasp onto it, desperate for any semblance of normalcy.

“I’m sorry, though,” he says seriously. “I’m kind of an idiot, you know.” 

“...Yeah, I know.”

“I— wow,” he laughs softly. “Chat, what did I do to deserve this?”

You mirror his laugh and turn on your back to face him. 

His hair has gotten longer. The messy locks are fanned around his head on the pillow. His eyes are wide underneath his bangs, studying your face with an expression you can’t quite pin down. 

He’s so pretty. You wonder how you ever thought you could act normal after everything that's happened.

“Is the chat in the room with us?” you ask around a smirk, and pray your voice doesn't sound too breathless.

He snorts and you swear you can almost see the pout on his face. Yeah, he’s fine. He’s back to his regular self. You should be, too. 

“Shut up,” he pokes your shoulder weakly. 

Your heart does something stupid in your chest at the contact and you press your face further into the pillow to hide the flush that’s undoubtedly on your face right now. 

A few moments pass in silence and you close your eyes, hoping sleep will come soon and end this mess of a night. You don’t know how much time passes. Felix is silent and you feel yourself drifting off, sleep tugging at your consciousness, when you hear him whispering in the dark.

“Hey,” he says your name quietly. “You awake?”

You hum in response and reluctantly blink your eyes open. His face swims into view and you realize he's closer than before. Now only a few inches separate you from him.

“Sorry… um, I'm cold. Can… can I...?” He hesitates, leaving the question unfinished as his eyes search your face.

His breath ghosts your cheek and you freeze, trying to keep your breathing even as your body stiffens.

“Yeah,” you murmur, trying to sound nonchalant. “Yeah, of course.”

A flash of relief fills his face before he moves even closer to you. He lays next to you, resting his head on your collarbone and draping one arm over your waist carefully. You hold your breath.

“Is this alright?” he mumbles.

You’re not sure if you can speak without sounding like a goddamn idiot, so you just nod in reply.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and you have to remind yourself that it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just Felix being Felix: the most physically clingy person on Earth. Also your best friend who you definitely do not have untoward feelings for.

That would be really, really bad.

Especially in a situation like this, where Felix’s nose is pressed in your neck, and his arm is around your waist, his leg tangled with yours at some point and his hair is tickling your chin. He’s everywhere. It's entirely overwhelming.

And he's so warm. You didn't even realize you were cold until he pressed against you. Warmth seeps deep into your bones as he sighs and pulls your body further against his. It's cozy and familiar and you try to focus on the comfort of the action instead of the way your heart is hammering in your chest.

It’s quiet for a few moments as he settles against you and you try to relax, waiting for the rise and fall of his chest to even out beside you, signaling he’s fallen asleep.

Instead, he shifts and you feel his lips brush against your neck, his breath fanning over your skin. Oh.

“Hey,” he murmurs in that low, low voice of his that only really comes out when he's sleepy. “Hey, I… um.” 

You can feel the vibrations from his voice against your neck as he speaks. Oh. You’ve definitely thought about this in a much different context before.

He’s silent for a moment as if collecting his thoughts. But he just sighs, pulling his head away slightly. “Nevermind… Um, good night.”

“Night,” you manage weakly.

It’s silent again. The only sounds that fill the room are the incessant beating of raindrops against the windows and Felix's soft breathing by your ear, drowning out the occasional faint rumble of thunder.

—

You wake to the sound of groaning.

Unsticking your eyelids, you attempt to get a look at your surroundings. It’s still dark, but the room slowly comes into focus as you blink slowly, trying to discern what woke you up. 

The first thing you notice is that it's warm. Hot, even. The air is thick and heavy in your lungs and there's a warm weight pressed against you.

It takes a few moments before you become aware of your current predicament — Right, you're at Felix's place, sleeping in his bed. His body is completely pressed against yours, his chest to your back, his head nuzzled in the nook of your neck. You’re practically spooning. There’s a leg thrown over yours and an arm wrapped snugly around your middle, making it virtually impossible to move.

And — it's not that unusual. It's not far off from the position you fell asleep in and Felix's clinginess is really quite endearing, even if your fragile heart can't handle it anymore. No, what's unusual are the sounds coming from him.

He’s making small noises as he fidgets against you, like he's in pain. He's probably having a bad dream. You start to turn over in order to wake him up, but his grip on you tightens and his breath hitches and—

You freeze.

That was definitely not the sound of someone having a nightmare. 

It was more like… like… Quiet, soft, and breathless; little sounds caught in his throat that spill into your ear.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, his body is moving — restless, shifting against you. His hips moving minutely. It takes your sleepy mind a second to put it all together.

Holy… Holy shit. Is he…?

You're suddenly very awake, fogginess replaced by a white hot rush of panic and disbelief.

He’s— Oh no.

Felix is asleep. He's definitely sleeping but— He must be… having some sort of… dream and… What the fuck are you supposed to do? Wake him up? Absolutely not. You literally— You'd rather die than face him like this. Not to mention how mortifying it would be for both of you. You would actually rather choose death.

He twitches slightly, his hips pushing up against your body. A low groan leaves him as he pulls you closer, completely against his body now, the thin material of his clothes doing nothing to hide his—

You squeeze your eyes shut. Oh my god you are going to die right now. You're seriously going to pass away for real this time. This— this is—

“Mmmn…” he moans, low and needy and right by your ear and wow, that’s… wow.

You have to be dreaming… this is just some very fucked up dream, the sane part of you implores. The rest of you is ignited in flames. 

It's not a dream.

Another little sound slips out and he presses even closer to you, his body flush against yours, like he’s trying to get as much contact as possible. His hips move against yours with a subtle roll and you feel shameful sparks of heat pooling in your gut.

This is so bad. This is so, so bad, fuck. Fuck.

He’s grinding against you in tiny movements, little gasps and moans escaping out of his mouth every few seconds and your entire body is burning. His arm is tight around your waist, his whole body pressed flush against your back. You don’t even dare to breathe as he rocks his hips forward ever so slightly, his nose nuzzling your neck as he lets out a soft whine. It takes everything you have to keep your own whimper at bay, suddenly desperate to grind back against him but— Christ. Are you insane?

You’re frozen. You’re not supposed to be here, you’re not supposed to be feeling this, you really should wake him up, this is so wrong, yet you’re still frozen like an idiot. You can't think. Your brain is made of cherry slushy. The heat death of the universe is imminent. 

Your mind is completely blank but your body is overstimulated and you’re just trying your best to figure out how not to die in this situation. Not easy when Felix is moaning into your neck and it sounds so good and he’s shifting and his body is impossibly warm and he’s—

His breath stutters abruptly in the midst of a long moan and he goes completely still around you. All you hear is heavy breathing for a few moments.

Shit, shit, shit. Is he awake? You're caught between relief and something like disappointment but aren't left enough time to dwell on that thought before you hear a shaky whispered, “F-Fuck.”

You hold your breath. 

Your heartbeat is ringing in your ears, body buzzing with tension, but you do your best to stay completely still. The air is so thick. You almost can’t believe what just happened, but the evidence is pressing into your back as Felix lets out another quiet swear.

His grip on you tenses for a moment before releasing you entirely. He untangles himself from you and pulls his body away from yours so suddenly that you nearly think you hallucinated the whole thing. 

His breathing is ragged and you don’t dare move a muscle. You keep your back resolutely facing him, try to relax, and you are asleep. You are asleep. You are asleep. You repeat it like a mantra. 

You don’t know if he believes your act, your eyes pressed shut, as you try to keep your breaths even and slow.

The sheets rustle a bit. You stay motionless, heart pounding in your ears. He’s sitting up now, you can feel the weight shifting beside you. It’s completely silent for a few seconds before he whispers your name in question.

You are asleep. You are asleep. You are asleep. You pray he believes it.

“...Thank god,” he breathes. You hear more rustling, sheets moving, and he's getting up.

Only when you hear the door shut do you allow yourself to breathe, wondering how the hell you made it out of that situation alive. What the fuck. 

Like, what the fuck.

You stare at the wall in shock, eyes wide and heart hammering hard in your chest.

He doesn’t know you were awake. You’re alive. You survived.

You bury your face in the pillow and try to collect yourself, shaking slightly in the aftermath of whatever the hell just happened. The heat of his body is still surrounding you, his presence lingering on your skin and you can’t help the traitorous part of your brain that wishes for him to crawl back into the bed and hold you again. That wishes you were brave enough to do something other than lie there.

You push the thought away with a quiet groan. You can’t think about that. You can’t. You're barely holding onto the last threads of your sanity as it is. 

But you can’t fall back asleep.

Of course you can’t. After what just happened, your brain will probably never be fully operational again. You press your hands to your face and let out a pathetic whine, wondering if it's possible to die of embarrassment. You're sure this is what a heart attack feels like. It's a wonder you're still breathing. 

This is so much worse than last time, when you got too into practicing. At least that was mutually agreed on and Felix made light of it pretty easily. But this? How are you supposed to act normal after this? That wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to know what it feels like to have his body up against yours, to hear him moaning in your ear. And you pretended to be asleep instead of stopping him. So he doesn't even know… It's so wrong on so many levels.

You sigh. Felix doesn't know you were awake, so he doesn't know you know and maybe, maybe you can get away with pretending it didn't happen. You'll have to play it cool, of course. Or even better, you can forget about this entirely, convince yourself it was all a fever dream.

Maybe.

—

a/n: AHHH. so it really wasnt meant to be a cliffhanger here lol but then i ended up splitting it so... sorry. the next (and final for REALL THIS TIME) part will be out very soon! nothing like the 3 month long wait for this (ty SO MUCH for ur patience) andd yeah! i hope this is at least somewhat living up to expectations so far, tysm for reading!!

[boozuru]

Ghostic - Epilogue 1

⇠  chapter select  ⇢

(NOT JP PROOFED)

Season: Autumn

<Several days later, on the morning of event day>

Tori: I’m going out now, Yuzuru.

Yuzuru: Yes. Take care, now.

But are you really sure that it was fine for me not to show my face in the student council?

Tori: I told you yesterday, didn’t I?~  For the time being, you were on sick leave!

Also, it’s best if you don’t run around here and there today, today is filled with plans so you should save your energy!

Plus, I have the new council president and Shinobu helping me out.

And Akatsuki is doing the opening act, so Hasumi-senpai will be there. If anything, I think we have too many people onboard.

So, Yuzuru, just chill and wait at ES. Don’t do the same thing as last time and make a fuss when leaving the medical office!

Yuzuru: Fufu. If Young Master says so, I have no choice but to comply.

Well then, I’ll leave Yumenosaki Academy in your hands.

Tori: Thanks. Once I’ve overseen the event opening, I’ll come back to join the organising efforts at ES. So just relax and wait for me ♪

Yuzuru: …I just wanted to show concern for Young Master, but it seems like all I did was cause him more trouble.

Eichi-sama and Hibiki-sama also said that “You don’t have to do any work till today’s live performance” and now I’m practically forced to be on break. This is true torture.

But even so, I can feel fine’s love through these irritating things they do.

Thinking of each other, gratitude, respect - those things are too grand to be spent on me.

I hope I can repay for them through this live performance, even if just a little.

…Maybe I should head for ES as well. I hope Young Master will be safe and well during the Halloween party.

Wataru: One, two, three… Everyone’s here!

Ah, this is it. No one has been late even once, the staff structure is truly wonderful! ★ We are ever so grateful that you are helping us build our ideal haunted house, truly… ★

Well then, it’s time for us to go check on how well it’s operating! Ready to go, right Eichi?

Eichi: Yeah. Let’s go, Wataru.

Well, we’ll leave bag watching to you then, Yuzuru. Make sure to take care of the staff’s things too.

Yuzuru: Yes. Leave it to me, Eichi-sama.

(…We had to go through a lot of ups and downs, but the ES Haunted House is finally opening its doors.)

(Eichi-sama and Wataru-sama are doing their last check of the haunted house.)

(Young Master, as the student council vice president, is in charge of Yumenosaki Academy - I can’t deny that I feel at loss just watching after people’s belongings here.)

(I want to recover here from the disgrace that was me, disturbed by delusions of ghosts.)

(Especially since unlike last year, Halloween is going to be a big-scale festival extending even to ES.)

(Us idols are not allowed to parade around grounds where the customers are to prevent confusion.)

(We will do our fan service work at our respective posts.)

(fine will be here giving out candy to the customers who got to the goal, the haunted house.)

(Things are what they are, and there is no other way around it. But it feels like I have some distance from my fans now, and it makes me just a little lonely.)

(And thus, I should make sure to deliver a performance that will reach far, all the way to those very people.)

…Oh? There’s something behind me…

What is with this white cloth…? Even if you hide your face, I can still see your cute little feet peeking out, miss ghost.

"Trick or Treat"...?

Oh, so that is what you were after. If you want candy, then you should head over there - I’ll show you the way.

But more importantly, could you show me your true form, Anzu-san? ♪

Fufu. I’m glad to see you this happy. I wished for you to come have fun at the haunted house, but wondered if it would be even possible.

We could not be more honoured if you moved your schedule around just to come see us.

But I never imagined that you would wish to play the role of a ghost.

If I recall correctly, you will be assisting us just for a little bit for the sake of future reference, yes? Eichi-sama has filled me in already.

It is a good thing to be serious about your studies, but please make sure to have fun as well.

Yes. All staff members are deeper inside. Eichi-sama and Hibiki-sama are also there, would you like to go greet them?

If you greet them with a “trick or treat”, I’m sure they will reward you with candy ♪

Yes. Until we meet again, Anzu-san.

[aeoki]

School Festival ☆ Tamayori’s Haunted Dollhouse - Chapter 11

Location: Yumenosaki Grounds (School Festival) Characters: Sora, Natsume & Tsumugi

Tsumugi: Hmm… He’s not here, either.

There are heaps of people everywhere and there aren’t any places without people at all.

We searched every nook and cranny of the school building but we couldn’t find him, so we’re now here outside, though.

I wonder where Sora-kun went. I’m worried~ Now that it’s come to this, shall we summon him using the school intercom?

Natsume: It pains me to agree with you but that’s the only choice we have leFT. Let’s gO, Senpai.

Tsumugi: Here, Natsume-kun.

Natsume: ………… *Pinches Tsumugi’s outstretched hand*

Tsumugi: Ow ow ow! Natsume-kun! Why did you pinch my hand!?

Natsume: HM? You didn’t hold your hand out because you wanted me to pinch iT?

Tsumugi: Don’t make a face that says there couldn’t have been any other reason other than that! Uuu~ We wouldn’t have lost Sora-kun if we held hands, right?

There are also a lot of people here. It would be awful if you were to also get lost in the crowd, Natsume-kun.

That’s why I thought we should hold hands… Geez, don’t blame me if you get lost then.

Natsume: I’d say the same to yOU, Senpai. Since you tend to unconsciously wandER.

Tsumugi: I didn’t do that on purpose – the crowd was pushing me in all sorts of directions~

Natsume: Yeah, yeAH. …HmM?

Tsumugi: What’s the matter, Natsume-kun? Did you find Sora-kun?

Natsume: No. I thought it was rather noisy over theRE…

Tsumugi: Oh, now that you mention it. I wonder if there’s a special event.

Hmm~... Ah, I remember now. I heard “RYUUSEITAI” will be doing a hero show so that probably explains the crowd of people.

Natsume: I’m simply curious but why do you know thAT, Senpai?

Tsumugi: I saw it on the pamphlet. Look, it’s written here that “RYUUSEITAI” will be doing a hero show near the grounds in the afternoon.

Natsume: AhH… I completely missed thAT. The pamphlet does have information on what each unit will be doing for the festivAL.

OhH, “RYUUSEITAI” are also doing patrols for the “School Festival”, hUH. I thought the Student Council would be doing that, sO I didn’t approach thEM.

Kanata Nii-san is in “RYUUSEITAI” sO it might be a good idea to send a message to him and ask if he’s seen Sora on his patroLS.

HmM… The issue is whether I can actually get in contact with hIM.

Tsumugi: Huh? You don’t have Shinkai-kun’s contact details?

Natsume: No, I dO. Kanata Nii-san's phone is often submerged in water, sO I thought I might not be able to contact him if his phone is away for repaIR.

Tsumugi: Ahaha… Shinkai-kun often bathes in the school fountain, doesn’t he? Does he like water that much~?

Sora: Master~? Senpai? HaHa~♪ It really is you guys!

Natsume: Sora~...♪ Ahh, I’m so glad we found yOU!

Sorry for leaving you aloNE. You must have felt lonely because you were separated from us, rigHT?

Let’s hold hands so we won’t be separated agaIN.

Sora: Okay, Master~...♪

Tsumugi: Uuu, you pinched me when I tried to hold hands with you, but you’d want to hold hands with Sora-kun of your own accord!?

Sora: HiHi~♪ Senpai, let’s all hold hands! Master~ has a happy “colour” when the three of us hold hands!

Tsumugi: Oh, is that true? Then, Sora-kun, let’s hold– Wait, what are you holding? Candy?

Sora: Yes! I got it from the Sea Onii-san!

Tsumugi: The Sea Onii-san…? Oh, that must be Shinkai-kun. I see you were just with him.

Sora: HuHu~♪ The Sea Onii-san looked after Sora when he got lost~

Master~, Senpai, Sora is sorry!

Sora felt really sick from the big crowd and moved away from all the “colours”, but Sora ended up being separated from Master~ and Senpai.

Sora is really, really sorry!

Natsume: Don’t apologiSE, Sora. We’re the ones who should be sorry since we didn’t pay more attention to your neeDS.

Tsumugi: Yes. We’re to blame as we knew you didn’t like crowds but we failed to take the right actions. I’m sorry, Sora-kun.

Sora: No, Master~ and Senpai are always looking out for Sora! So Sora is always thankful!

There are a lot of kind people around Sora! That includes the Sea Onii-san! HeHe~♪

Natsume: AhH, you did mention Kanata Nii-san looked after yOU.

Hmm~ WherE’S Kanata Nii-san? I’d like to thank him for looking after yOU.

Sora: The Sea Onii-san went to defeat evil!

Natsume: HuH? What do you meAN? That’s not the sort of person Kanata Nii-san is– Oh, did you mean he’s preparing for the hero shOW?

Sora: Umm, it looks like there are some baddies who slipped into the school~ So the Sea Onii-san and his friends went to find them!

Tsumugi: What!? That’s scary! Will Shinkai-kun be fine on his own? Should we call for backup…?

Natsume: Senpai, were you listening to what Sora saID?

He said, “the Sea Onii-san and his friends”, sO Kanata Nii-san didn’t go on his oWN.

Sora: Yes! Sora also tried to go but…

The Sea Onii-san told Sora that Master~ and Senpai are probably worried about Sora, so Sora should meet up with them!

He also wanted to apologise because he couldn’t bring Sora over to where Master~ and Senpai were.

Natsume: …As I thought, I really do need to thaNK Kanata Nii-san.

Tsumugi: Natsume-kun, please allow me to thank him then, as well. Well, now that’s settled and we’ve found Sora-kun, what should we do from now on?

Natsume: HmM~ I think it’s about time the line for the “Butler Cafe” shortened, sO… let’s go back theRE.

Sora: HoHo~♪ Sora agrees! Let’s head to the “Butler Cafe” together ♪

Tsumugi: Natsume-kun, Sora-kun… Uuu, you’re both so kind! I’m so happy~♪

I’m not scared of Sora-kun treating me with kindness, but Natsume-kun is always cold to me so you’re scaring me a little.

Natsume: I seE… Then I’ll treat you coldly as you wiSH.

Sora, let’s leave Senpai here and go to the “Butler Cafe” ourselvES. Oh, Senpai, you’re an eyesore so don’t follow us, okAY? ♪

Tsumugi: How could you!? I’m sorry, Natsume-kun! I apologise so please take me with you~!

Sora: Senpai, that was Master~ joking~ So, it’s okay!

Natsume: Ohh, so you knEW, Sora. Senpai, you can follow us but we’re not holding hanDS.

Tsumugi: Oh, you~ That must be a joke as well, right? Sora-kun is holding candy in his other hand, so let’s hold hands, Natsume-kun ♪

Natsume: ………… *Pinches Tsumugi’s hand really hard*

Tsumugi: Gyaaaaa!? Ow ow, stop!

Sora: HaHa~♪ Senpai and Master~ are getting along so well~♪

(Ehehe, seeing their “colour” makes Sora relieved! We won’t be separated now that we’re holding hands! HaHiHuHeHo~♪)

← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[zoros-fourth-sword]

Scarlett- Chapter Five

Summary: Portgas D. Scarlett Ace's older sister, decides to join Trafalgar Law's crew as their navigator after her brother's death. At first, she is distant and consumed with grief over her loss, but as she spends more time with Law and his crew, she begins to find comfort in their shared experiences.

As they journey together through the Grand Line, Law, and Scarlett must face off against dangerous foes and navigate the treacherous waters of the New World. Along the way, they grow closer, and Scarlett begins to see Law in a new light.

But their love is not without its challenges, as Law is still haunted by his past and the events that led him to become a pirate. Scarlett must confront her feelings of guilt and loss over her brother's death if she wants to move forward with Law.

WC: 1.4k

Taglist: @3v37773 @sukunas-play-thing

WARNINGS: use of alcohol, depression, grief,

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

Chapter Five: Drunken Talks

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

“I need to ask you something,” Law said from beside me

“Sure” I shrug encouraging the tall man

“I would like for you to become my assistant” Law grumbled hiding his eyes under his hat

“you’re assistant what do you mean?” I ask confusedly

“Making sure my crews taken care of I would like help with that I’m very busy and never have the time” the man huffed

“Of course there’s nothing to worry about Traffy Laffy. I love them already. And besides they would probably die eating just rice and ham all day so I’m glad I can fill their bellies” I giggle letting the tattooed man know there’s nothing to worry about

“Look I’m not really the person that tends to ask people favors and all but this one’s important.” Law Huffed as he put his hands in his pockets

“I get it” I chuckle

“I know what it feels like to go extreme Levels to make sure the people around you are taken care of,” I say placing my hand on his arms causing him to slightly flinch

“Mhm um anyway let’s get what we need and head off we got a busy week coming up and I want to make sure we have everything we need,” Law said clearing his throat

“Right and I also need to get stuff for my room” I happily say slightly skipping ahead

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

“So what exactly do I need to do” I ask Law as we enter his office with arms full of supplies

“What ya mean” the man grumbled as he placed his bags on the ground

“The whole assistant thing like what am I going to be doing” I ask as I place my belongings on the ground

“Well putting dates on my papers, feeding my crew, cleaning my office when I don’t have the time,” Law said as he leaned against his desk

“Look I don’t want to give you the idea that I’m forcing you to do this you obviously are able to make your own decisions,” Law said as he crossed his arms over his chest

“I know and I enjoy it and besides it’s the least I can do. You did give me a place to live. thanks to you I’m not homeless” I chuckle placing my hands on my hips

“It’s settled then you're my new assistant,” Law said as he placed his tattooed hand out for me to shake

“Alright then” I smile placing my small hand in his feeling that the man really worked his ass off his skin was rough and textured signaling that he is good with his hands

“Well then I’m going to make dinner now I bet the crew is hungry,” I say as I grab my bags from the floor leaving his office

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

“Miss Scarlett what have you chosen to make tonight” Bepo asked as he entered the kitchen

“I decided to make homemade Lasagna” I smile as I layer the pasta on top of the tomato sauce

“Ooh it looks like it going to be good,” Bepo said as he peeked over the counter to get a glimpse

“Why thank you Bepo” I giggle as I finish layering the pasta in the pan

“Can I help?” Bepo asked excitedly

“Of course, you can just go ahead and grab the cheese in the fridge,” I say letting the polar bear know where the cheese was

“Thank you, Scarlett,” Bepo said as he grabbed the cheese hurrying his way next to me

“Of course Bepo if you want you can sprinkle the cheese on top,” I say as I pat his back

“Really,” the bear said as he ripped the cheese open causing some to fall on the floor

“Sorry,” Bepo said slightly flinching away

“It’s okay it was an accident and accidents happen just dump the cheese Bepo” I giggle rubbing the minc’s back gently trying to calm him down

“Okay then” he laughed as he dumped the whole package on top of the uncooked pasta

“Is that enough?” Bepo asked turning his attention toward me

“Perfect” I laughed as I picked up the pan of lasagna to place it into the preheated oven

“I’m so ready to eat this,” the bear said happily as he watched me place the pan in the oven making sure to close the door behind me

“There it will be done in about an hour,” I say as I take a seat on top of the counter feeling proud about my dish

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

After everyone finished their dish I decided to bring Laws his along with two cups of sake. deciding that I wanted to dine with my captain tonight kinda feeling bad that he’s alone all the time

I gently knock on Law's office door waiting for him to give me permission to enter

“Come in,” Law weakly said sounding tired

“I brought dinner,” I say as I walk inside the room

“Thanks just sit it on the desk” Law huffed rubbing his hands down his face

“And two cups of sake I decided that I want to share a drink with you I never got to when we first meet” I chuckle

“True a drink sounds nice,” the man said tiredly as he pulled his hat off dropping it to the floor

“Here then,” I say as I pour the man a cup of sake handing it to him

“Thanks” he grumbled as he took the drink quickly drowning it back

“Stressful day” I giggled as I poured myself a cup

“You have no idea,” Law said as he took the bottle of sake from my hand to pour him another drink

“I’m sorry that it was stressful” I say as I take small sips of my drink

“Not your fault just a lot is on my mind” Law grumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck

“I get that” I huff remembering what has happened in the last month

“You know I might be an ass sometimes but I do it to make my crew stronger, they don’t need some half ass captain ” Law said as he looked at me leaning back in his chair

“I know I completely understand I was that way with Luffy and Ace” I giggle remembering all the trouble those two boys caused me

“Now that I really think about it I was too harsh on them and I’m so thankful they don’t hold that against me” I weakly smile shooting back the rest of my drink

“Luffy can be a handful and Ace was way too stubborn for his own good” I laugh looking at Law to see that he completely invested in my conversation

“I tried my hardest for them boys all I wanted was for them to grow up and live long happy lives,” I say my voice slightly cracking

“And now that my biggest fear has come true I don’t know what to do anymore I’m trying I really am but how am I supposed to just act like everything is normal” I say trying to hold back my tears

“Ace was my little brother the boy I watched grow up the boy I would sacrifice my life for. and him being him he chose to do the same to save Luffy I don’t blame him I’m not mad I’m more proud than anything I’m glad to know that we grew up with such a strong bond that we are willing to die for each other,” I say as I play with the cup in my hand trying to calm my emotions

“If it makes you feel any better Scar Ace died with a smile on his face,” Law said as he rested his elbows on the flat’s of his knees

With that sentence my heart broke I couldn’t do it anymore I was tired of being strong I needed to let it out I needed someone to talk to even if it meant Grump pants himself, just knowing someone is here listening to me makes me feel at ease

“Thank you” I sob as I cry into my hands

“Hey hey woah um uh I uh” Law panicked as he waved his hand around like crazy not sure how to comfort me

“Hey please don’t cry,” the man said as he awkwardly patted the top of my head

“Sorry” I giggle as I lift my head

“It’s fine” Law huffed as he took the bottle from me taking a big swig of it

“I really mean it Traffy Laffy thank you” I giggle

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

★ ° . *　　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸

. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * • ○ ° ★

.　 * 　.　 　　　　　.

° 　. ● . ★ ° . *　　　°　.　°☆

　. * ● ¸ . 　　　★ 　° :●. 　 *

I hope everyone enjoyed comment and let me know and if you wanna be tagged just ask ☺️🥰

{A/N: I love law in this chapter}

[thedailybullshit]

(featuring commentary by me)

I posted 1,094 times in 2022

235 posts created (21%)

859 posts reblogged (79%)

I feel like I’m being told I don’t make enough original content

Blogs I reblogged the most:

Very glad to know I reblogged from myself, as if I don’t remember the action or the notification that I reblogged my own post

@12timetraveler

@thedailybullshit

@markodragic

@rabbitheartedfool

@vanillasakura

I tagged 1,000 of my posts in 2022

I’m way too happy at the even 1000

Only 9% of my posts had no tags

#reddeadredemption2 - 331 posts

#othersart - 330 posts

#rdr2 - 329 posts

#red dead redemption 2 - 328 posts

#reddead - 322 posts

#the owl house - 316 posts

#toh - 311 posts

#arthur morgan - 137 posts

#hosea matthews - 133 posts

#luz noceda - 102 posts

I was under the impression that every reddead related post was tagged w/ the same 4 tags so somewhere on my blog there are posts missing tags & it’s going to haunt me

but also my favorite characters made it in fuck yeah

Longest Tag: 134 characters

#for context there’s a camp interaction where jack’s trying to get john to play w/ him & he wants john to be hector while he’s achilles

This is so fucking specific & it barely relates to the post it’s from

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

“Hunter’s new design is boring” yeah. That’s. The point.

The generic haircut, the bland sweater. It’s all a baseline for Hunter to set his physical characteristics so that he can figure out who HE is from there.

“But the hair noodle is so distinct to Hunter-” no it isn’t, & it never has been. It’s distinct to CALEB, & that has always been the point. Hunter never wore his hair like that bc HE liked it, he wore it that way bc it reminded Philip of Caleb.

Hunter was never supposed to be Hunter, he was supposed to be a “better version” (BELOS’S OWN WORDS) of Caleb. Hunter’s hair noodle was never a characteristic of his own.

This boy has no part of him that’s his own. He wears Caleb’s face. His body contains Caleb’s bones. His eyes come from being a grimwalker. Entire parts of his personality are built up from trying to please Philip, & the rest of his personality he can’t be sure isn’t left over from Caleb.

Hunter doesn’t know who Hunter is. So he’s trying to figure that out by building from the ground up. There’s only so much he can do about his physical appearance, & fortunately his hair is something under his control. So he gives himself that basic haircut so he can figure it out from there. His hair was never specific to him, so now he can make it that way.

Idk. I don’t see how anyone can be genuinely upset about this w/out severely missing the point.

1,063 notes - Posted September 16, 2022

I got tired of people whining about the noodle

#4

I made this almost a year ago I can’t believe I never posted it until now.

1,513 notes - Posted November 9, 2022

Pretty sure this only got traction bc Ragnarok came out when I posted it

#3

To everyone who bitched about the damn hair:

Are you happy now?

2,206 notes - Posted October 15, 2022

Was the noodle that fucking worth it?

#2

“Shuri is stronger than me bc I would’ve accepted Namor’s offer to burn the world down.” Nah, bro. Shuri is stronger than me bc if somebody killed the last of my family, I wouldn’t have spared them no matter how right about colonizers or how kind they’d been to me previously or how hot they were. & I certainly wouldn’t have had the strength to carry on, let alone lead a nation.

That’s where Shuri’s strength comes from, not from rejecting Namor’s proposal.

3,155 notes - Posted November 11, 2022

I couldn’t be in power

My #1 post of 2022

6,152 notes - Posted November 11, 2022

Movie premiered, thousands emotionally wrecked, more at 7

Very glad I made the decision to join this hellsite.

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[urwelcomeforthis]

Alex’s tattoo shows up the day after she punches Marcus Hinkle.

He had been picking on Kara in the hallway, dangling her math book above her head, taking advantage of his summer growth spurt.

Kara still doesn’t know what possessed Alex – Marcus Hinkle had been a thorn in her side since she had landed on Earth and started school a year ago, but whatever the reason, today was the day Alex couldn’t take anymore.

Eliza had been furious. Jeremiah had been (not so) silently proud.

Kara didn’t know what she had felt, really. Especially not when she asked Alex why, and the older girl had just shrugged and said “You’re my sister. It’s what we do.”

Up until this point being sisters meant fights in the hallway over the bathroom and ignoring each other at the dinner table.

Apparently, things were changing.

Kara is just waking up when she hears Alex’s hushed “What the hell?”

“What is it?” She asks, groggily sitting up and wiping at the sleep in her eyes.

Her sister is holding her forearm up, frantically scrubbing at a spot right in the middle, her eyes frantic.

“I don’t…. I don’t know! It’s like a tattoo but I didn’t get a tattoo! Fuck, Mom is going to kill me.” Alex sounds panicked as she continues scrubbing at the spot, and Kara feels her heartbeat speed up.

“You had a tattoo just appear on your skin?” Kara asks slowly, her mind suddenly far away on a planet that doesn’t exist anymore, in a culture she had been forced to leave behind.

Alex stops scrubbing and looks at Kara with a piercing gaze. “Yeah. It’s some funny symbol too, like the way you used to write before you learned English. Did you do this to me?”

Alex leaps off the bed and crosses the room in two quick strides, arm held out like an accusation.

Kara shrinks in on herself a little but nods. “I think so. I didn’t know it was possible here, but well, on Krypton when your soul mate reveals themselves, a tattoo linking you appears. I should have one too, somewhere, if you do.”

Alex stops dead in her tracks, her eyes wide. “Soul mates? But we’re sisters! That’s so gross!”

Jumping up from the bed, hands held up in surrender Kara hastens to explain further. “No! Not like that, I promise! Back home, people had different kinds of soul mates. Sometimes it was the romantic kind like you talk about here on Earth, but other times it could just be a compatible soul, someone who was meant to be a part of you.”

Alex still looks wary, if not relieved, as she tentatively holds out her arm. “So, what does this mean? What kind of soul mates are we?”

Stepping forward Kara delicately traces the symbols on Alex’s forearm. “It literally means “sister of the soul.” Je shesur. The symbol after it is unique, the way we would know we were linked. If this had happened on Krypton it would mean we were soul sisters. Not from the same parents but family just the same.”

Alex nods. “And here on Earth? What does it mean here?”

“The same thing. At least that’s what it means to me.” Kara refuses to meet Alex’s eyes, not sure she wants to see what waits for her there.

There’s a long minute of silence after Alex takes her arm back. The clearing of her throat brings Kara’s eyes up from their place on the ground.

“Where’s yours?” Alex asks, eyes burning with curiosity.

Kara shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s not on my arms like yours is. It must be hidden. Can you look on my back?”

“Sure.” Alex nods. “Lift up your shirt.”

Kara turns and tugs her shirt up and over her head. It takes a moment, but she hears her sister gasp followed by the feel of fingertips against her left shoulder blade.

“It’s the same as mine.” Alex says reverently, and Kara closes her eyes against the emotion welling up there.

Who would have thought she would get to have this piece of home?

“So, I guess I’m stuck with you. For like, ever, huh?” Alex smiles once Kara has turned back around.

Kara grins back. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Alex shrugs. “Could be worse. But you have to tell Mom about this, because she’ll never believe me, and she is going to be pissed that I have a tattoo.”

“Sure, I can tell Mom.” Kara grins, a piece of her heart settling in place. She hasn’t felt at home on Earth, not really, but at this moment she feels like it isn’t all that bad.

--

The next person to get a tattoo is, interestingly enough, James.

It doesn’t come when they’re dating, or whatever it was that they were doing, no.

It comes after he has revealed himself to be Guardian, and he and Kara have the biggest fight of their friendship.

Kara wakes up the morning after tired, groggy, and more than a little cranky. Its as she’s stripping down to get in the shower that she notices it – the Kryptonese scrawled along the inside of her right bicep.

Throniv Shesur. Protector of the soul.

Kara heaves a deep, deep, sigh and grabs her phone.

She meets James at the DEO, both tentative around each other after the yelling match of the day before.

“So. I woke up with a tattoo. Kryptonese. Any idea what that’s about?” James looks smug, like he’s won some kind of battle with Kara and god, at that moment she wishes they were in the training room and she could just punch him.

“Yeah. I did too. It means “protector of the soul.” She crosses her arms against her chest, desperately trying to hold onto her anger from yesterday but the wide grin on James’ face is making it hard.

“I know. I asked Clark first thing since I figured you’re still pissed at me. He was a little surprised, but he translated it for me.”

“Where’s it at?” Kara asks, still pretending to be upset but truthfully it was hard given the glaring message from home telling her that James was meant to be Guardian. That they were meant to protect each other. Protect others together.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” James says with a waggle of his eyebrows and that’s what finally breaks Kara, a laugh ringing out across the room.

It wasn’t who she expected to have a tattoo, not in this way at least, but if it had to be anyone, she’s glad it’s James.

--

Mon-El doesn’t get a tattoo. Kara wishes she were more disappointed.

--

The last person to get a tattoo is someone Kara had desperately hoped both would and would not get a tattoo.

For a long time, she feared what that tattoo would be, if it were to happen. She feared having to explain it, having to explain herself.

She had checked with Clark a few times, when paranoia would get the better of her.

No, he always told her. Lex did not have a tattoo. They were enemies, yes, but it hadn’t been decided by destiny or fate. It just was.

That mollified Kara because she couldn’t stand it if she and Lena were to become Clark and Lex. She would fight against it, fight against fate to keep it from happening.

And then, well. It kind of happens anyways.

They aren’t enemies, not really. Lena just hates Kara and aims a few Kryptonite cannons at her and tries to mind control the entire planet, but really everyone is allowed a brief lapse of their sensibility, right?

And what matters is she came around, in the end.

It did take time, however, for them to build back to what they once had. It was different now, but in the way that things once broken and fixed usually are.

It was better, if anything.

They were back to shared lunches and dinners, quick breakfasts and coffee breaks. They were back to game nights as partners and movie nights as friends, and the occasional sleepovers as best friends.

Things were finally back to normal, so of course Kara had to go and absolutely, irrevocably, mess it up.

It was Alex’s fault, really.

If she hadn’t said anything, if she hadn’t asked Kara what was up between her and Lena lately, Kara probably never would have stopped to think about it.

She never would have stopped to think about the way her heart sped up when Lena entered a room, or the way her palms got sweaty when they hugged, or the way she just could not stop staring at Lena when she laughed at game nights.

But now she had thought of it and had come to the very scary conclusion that she was in love with her best friend.

Her best friend who didn’t have a tattoo.

She would, after all this time, have a tattoo, the tattoo, if they were meant to be together, right?

Kara mulls it over for weeks. It haunts her. She asks Lena about tattoos, and if she has any.

She learns that yes, in fact Lena does have tattoos and boy howdy one of them is on her lower back and it is seared into the back of her eyes now that she has seen it.

But she doesn’t have any kryptonian tattoos, which is really what Kara was aiming for.

Much like it was Alex’s fault that Kara even realized she was in love, it’s also Alex who reminds Kara of one important detail.

“Well I didn’t get my tattoo until after I punched what’s his face. Maybe you have to tell Lena how you feel and then she’ll get the tattoo.”

Kara feels dumb struck, right there on her own couch, because of course, Alex is right.

The tattoos always come after the person has already revealed themselves.

Then of course comes the true fear: what if she tells Lena and she still doesn’t get a tattoo?

That’s the question she’s mulling over the next night as she and Lena sit on her couch watching some documentary that had been put on Netflix.

Lena looks beautiful, face bare of makeup, hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, glasses slipping down her nose.

She’s eating a piece of pizza, a rare treat after a long week of work, and Kara decides that it doesn’t matter if Lena doesn’t get a tattoo.

She’s hopelessly, desperately in love with the woman and she can’t let a tattoo that may or may not come dictate her life.

“I’m in love with you, you know.” Kara blurts out, like this isn’t a life changing moment, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to say. (It is.)

Lena chokes a little on the bite she was swallowing, her hand coming up to her chest as she sets down the slice.

“Excuse me?”

Kara laughs. She’s never felt more free than in this moment. “I’m in love with you. I just thought you should know.”

Lena looks at her, shock written all over her face. “Oh. I guess that’s good.”

“Just good?” Kara nudges Lena’s thigh with her knee.

Lena shakes her head. “I mean it’s more than good, considering I’m in love with you too.”

“Yeah?” Kara could float up to the moon, she thinks.

Lena smiles, nose crinkled. “Yeah.”

It’s the next morning that Lena calls and asks if Kara can stop by. She has this tattoo she didn’t have yesterday, right on her ribcage, and it looks like it’s Kryptonian.

Kara frantically searches her own body, finding the script on her hip, on the left side.

Zhao Shesur. Love of the soul.

It took them five years to get to this point, but Kara knows, this moment was more than worth the wait.

[mlm-writer]

Rutterly Filled (Omega!Wei Wuxian x Alpha!Male!Reader)

Pairing: Omega!Wei Wuxian/Wei Ying (The Untamed ver.) x Alpha!Male Reader (NOT trans-friendly) Rating: Explicit Words: 3416 POV: Second Summary: You have not had a rut ever since you have been captures with the other Wens. Now things are going well on Burial Mounds, your body decides it is time. Unfortunately, your prolonged period of being rutless meant your next one was going to be extreme. Fortunately, the Yiling Patriarch is secretly an omega and you two have been flirting ever since you met. Notes: This is 200% self-indulgent. I saw the twink, I fell in love, I wanted to wreck him. Do I need an excuse?  Tags: Omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics, ruts, idiots in love, being in a relationship without realising it, reader is a himbo, loss of control, magical restraints, breeding, knotting, multiple orgasms, does Wei Ying have a dick and a pussy or a dick and an ass? up to you!, self-lubrication, fingering, blowjobs, facials, handjobs, gēge kink and fuck or die

There was no qi flowing anywhere. The only thing that filled your ‘internal stream’ was utter rage. “I told Wen Qing this would not work without a golden core!” You exclaimed as you got up and started stomping around. The alpha pheromones were rolling off you in waves and you were low key glad you were the only alpha present on Burial Mounds or you would have started a fight the second you caught a whiff of any other alpha.

“It was still worth a try. I do not think there is a way to stop your rut now.” You stomped around Wen Qing. You did not want to lash out at her. Were it not for her concoctions, you would have gone into rut a few days ago without a backup plan at all. Your hands clenched and unclenched at your sides. “There is one thing I have not yet told you.” You let out a grunt, indicating you were listening. “Wei Wuxian is an omega and has offered to help you through your rut.” 

You stilled for a second. The Yiling Patriarch was an omega. It only took a second for you to process. Wei Wuxian was not known to adhere to any stereotype or standard. It was not crazy to think that the Yiling Patriarch, a figure that induced fear and hate in many cultivators, was a fragile omega. He may carry himself around like a big figure, but truth to be told, he was skinny like a twig and if he was not such a good fighter, anyone could snap him in half. It all made sense, it was not a crazy thought.

“Master Wei has saved my life. I am already indebted to him. I will wait out my rut in the tent Wen Ning set up in the woods.” You were already walking to the door of Wen Qing’s humble hut, but she stood in your way. Sometimes you suspected her of being an alpha as well. One never knew, when cultivators could just simply suppress their second gender, making them all appear like betas. 

“You have not had a rut in a long while due to the poor conditions we have been under. Your first rut in a while may be much more intense than you are used to.” You clenched your fist, digging your nails into the palm on your hand. Your eye twitched. “Wei Wuxian can defend himself against you, should there be any need. He is also the only omega on the whole mountain. His only condition is that you do not mark him.” You violently shook your head before you could agree to it. The man was the prettiest boy you had ever laid eyes upon and while you two had been flirting, you had not yet confessed that every flirty word you shot his way was truthful. The thing between you two, unnamed and not yet romantic, was too good to risk. 

You walked away from the door, before you were going to physically lash out at Wen Qing. “I will not take advantage of master Wei. I owe him too much already.” 

“Your excuses are so weak, I’m starting to think that you don’t think I’m attractive.” Your whole body whipped to the door, where the omega in question had appeared with a pout on his face that made you want to kiss him. His lips were pink and glistening. They looked so full and soft. Wen Qing told him to get out, but you already caught a whiff of the omega scent you had never noticed on him before. Before you had any control of your tongue, you had agreed to spending your rut with Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch. Want bubbled up from deep within you. There was no way back now. 

You followed him and his scent like a blind puppy, as he let you between trees to a tent Wen Ning had set up earlier in case you could not suppress your rut. You saw the dark red fabric in the distance, when suddenly you were caged against a tree by Wei Wuxian. “Scent me,” he whispered into your face and he did not need to say it twice. You rubbed your nose all over his neck and down to where it met his shoulder. You took deep breaths, letting your lungs fill with the sweet and spicy scent that you from now on would know as Wei Wuxian. You didn’t know how long you were rubbing yourself on him and smelling him, but after a while, the fog of alpha hormones cleared and you had a bit more grip on what was going on and what was about to happen. “Better?” Wei Wuxian giggled as he rested against you. You held him close and slowly breathed in his scent. 

After a few slow breaths, you nodded and took his hand to drag him to the tent. It was big enough that you two could stand inside and there were supplies inside, mostly food and water, but also extra robes. You didn’t hear the sound of a lake behind the tent, as you dragged Wei Wuxian inside and pushed him down onto the straw mat on the ground. You crawled on top of him, but as your eyes met his, you were awfully aware of how you were acting. “Sorry, maybe we should talk about what I can and cannot do, before I lose all my patience.” Wei Wuxian laughed and shifted so you two were sitting on the straw mat, facing one another. His robes had fallen open a little and the sight of his chest threatened another frenzy to make itself known.

“You can do anything, but try not to claim me. It is a little early in our relationship for that.” You almost choked on your own saliva and started coughing. Wei Wuxian handed you a waterskin, but you needed a solid minute, before you had enough breath to actually attempt drinking anything. 

“I’m sorry, but… relationship?” You watched Wei Wuxian through teary eyes from your coughing fit. He seemed to turn red in an instant, his face now matching the ribbon in his beautiful silk black hair. 

“Yes? I mean I thought… we always flirt? And we drink together and you sometimes feed me at dinner? We also cuddled when we were drunk? I know we never talked about it, but we are in a relationship or something… right?” You stared at him, a little dumbfounded. He did not lie; those things happened. You just took all those things for things Wei Wuxian would do with anyone.

“I didn’t think of it that way,” you immediately regretted your words as you could see Wei Wuxian’s heart breaking all over his face, “but! But! But!” He looked at you, hopeful in a way that seemed plainly desperate. “I want it to be that way! I just didn’t realise what we were, but I want to be…” There was a flare of hormones and you shuffled forward to bury your nose against Wei Wuxian’s scent gland. “I want you, even when my rut is over, but also now. Right now.” A slight shift and you noticed you were hard between your legs. 

Wei Wuxian might have noticed it too through your robes, because he was shoving at your clothes. You stood up, ripping everything off in a hurry and grabbing Wei Wuxian by his ponytail. You pulled at it until his lips were around your hard cock. You let out a moan of relief, as he immediately started sucking on the length. He resisted when you tried to get him to swallow more of you. Wei Wuxian only took the tip, but with the way he was sucking and licking, it was enough for now. You threw your head back, grunting into the air, while Wei Wuxian sucked you off. His tongue cupped the head of your cock and played with the ridge between the head and the rest of your length. The wet sounds of his mouth seemed so loud in the small space. Before he even took more of you in his mouth, you grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. Wei Wuxian took the hint and with a wet pop he pulled his mouth off your cock. You would have protested, were it not for the hand on your hard length. 

The cultivator squeezed the knot at the base of your cock, everytime his hand was at the bottom of your length. You looked down at him, seeing him with his tongue out, a smile hinting behind that lewd expression, cheeks a beautiful rosy colour that matched his spit-glistened lips. You let out a groan and kept a firm grip on his shoulder. Ropes of cum spilled from your cock. Wei Wuxian’s face, hair and robes were painted white with your seed. When he finally let go of your cock, your face heated up at the sight of him. A mixture of embarrassment and arousal swimmed inside your belly. “I’m sorry,” you whispered out of breath, but Wei Wuxian just smiled at you and started taking his soiled robes off, wiping himself off with a sleeve. When he was mostly clean off your cum, he laid himself down on the straw mat, completely naked and stretched out like a meal for you to devour. 

“Don’t apologise, I want this too,” he confessed with flushed skin and a hard omega dick twitching between his legs. You kneeled down and hoisted his legs onto your shoulders. Your tongue automatically fell from your lips at the scent of omega slick filling your nostrils. Lapping up the slick that had escaped his wet hole and trickled down his thighs, drew a gasp from Wei Wuxian’s lips. “Don’t tease me.” 

You huffed out a laugh at the annoyance in his voice. “Or else? Will the Yiling Patriarch haunt me like a ghost and eat me?” You didn’t let Wei Wuxian reply. You held him up with one hand and pushed your tongue inside, the other hand touching his cock. The omega mewled and moaned as if he was putting on a show for you. Maybe he was. When was Wei Wuxian not making a scene? “Wei Wuxian sounds so perfect,” you growled as you licked the slick off your lips. 

“If you are going to knot me until I can’t walk, at least call me Wei Ying,” the demonic cultivator huffed, his eyes ravishing your body. You smiled as you put his legs around your waist and lined your cock up with his wet hole. 

“Wei Ying is perfect.” And with those words, you slid into his heat. Wei Ying gasped as he stretched around your thick alpha cock, the slick making the slide easier, but he was not in heat. You got halfway, before the resistance became too much. “Wei Ying needs to relax,” you grunted as you rutted inside him, micromovements trying to make further entrance possible. 

“You’re too big,” he complained, hands on your arms and squeezing your biceps. You leaned down and caught his lips in a biting kiss. Soft, pink lips turned red under your onslaught. A hand made its way to his throat and he gasped deliciously against your wet lips. Wei Ying squirmed and gasped for breath as you frantically fucked his hole open until you were slipping in deeper. “So big, too big, I’m going to tear in two!” 

You would be more concerned for him, were it nog for the thick cloud of alpha hormones clouding your judgement. Instead of sounding fearful, Wei Ying’s voice fuelled the fantasy of a helpless omega at your mercy. “Pretty omegas like you can handle this,” you growled in a voice no one woud have recognised as your own. Both hands landed on Wei Ying’s hips and you sat up, so you could thrust inside him with vigour. 

Wei Ying’s voice would have been audible from miles away as he screamed mostly in pain. Coherent thoughts had long left your mind and all that was left was ‘mark’, ‘claim’, ‘fuck’, ‘knot’ and ‘breed’. Pleasure was all on your mind as you closed your eyes to fully enjoy the stretch of Wei Ying’s walls around your cock. That was until you found yourself unable to move. “No! No! No!” You growled as Wei Ying slid off your cock. He pushed you onto your knees and sat down across from you. 

“I’m sorry, alpha, but don’t worry I will not leave you like this,” he croaked out as he struggled with sitting down comfortably. His chest rose and fell in deep, but ragged breaths. You now noticed the redness around his eyes and the wetness on his cheeks. Worry paved a little clarity in the lustful fog dominating your head. 

“Cruel bastard,” you found yourself snarling back, in spite of the seed of worry Wei Ying’s image planted deep inside you. Before even the last syllable left your lips, Wei Ying had his hand tight around your cock and stroked, drawing a guttural groan from you. “That’s not enough, I need more,” you breathed out at the torture that was the grip of Wei Ying’s hand. It felt good, but his omega hole had felt so much better.

“And I need more preparation, I am not in heat,” Wei Ying huffed back as he reached behind himself. You could hear the wet squelch of him fingering himself and it drove you into a frenzy. You demanded being released, so you could once more claim your omega, but Wei Ying did not release you. He let you cum with his hand. Once he needed a better angle to shove more fingers inside, he switched his hand for his mouth, so he could support himself with one hand while he tried to shove his whole fist inside. His mouth felt better than his hand, but you already had had a taste of paradise and this was not it. 

“You’re open enough, please, I feel like I’ll die,” you whined, shortly after you covered Wei Ying in your fourth load. No matter how often you came, it would not be enough until you knotted the omega in front of you. Wei Ying seemed to take mercy on you and he turned around. Wei Ying lowered himself onto your cock. The mercy got you moaning. You could see where you entered him as he bounced on your cock, his hole gripping your length visibly. “Yes, you feel so good omega,” you moaned as he rode your fat length. “Release me and I’ll pound you so good. I will knot you and fill you with my cum and then pound you again.” Wei Ying gasped, a hand moving to his cock to stroke it. The smell of his slick as it dripped down your cock was intoxicating. 

“Gēge, you talk so indecently when you’re in a rut.” You wanted to pin him down and fuck him so bad when he called you ‘gēge’ and Wei Ying seemed to know. The glint in his eyes as he shot you a look over his shoulder was quite telling. “But I’m afraid gēge will break me if I release him. Gēge is such a strong alpha and I’m just a frail omega,” he spoke dramatically, knowing fully well he was far from a frail omega. His words would have made you cringe were it not for the fact you were in a full-on rut. The idea, the thought, the image of him being so fragile and breakable and at your mercy suddenly got something flowing in you. The feeling was unfamiliar, as was the strength it brought. 

You had no mind to think about it, but enough instinct to use it. With this new-found energy, you broke yourself free from whatever was holding you in place and grabbed Wei Ying by the back of his neck. A hard shove and Wei Ying was face down, ass up on the ground with your cock plunging into his wet hole. “Maybe they are right, the Yiling Patriarch is cruel,” you drew a loud moan from the man below you with a hard thrust, “and evil.” 

Wei Ying did not move from where you had him. Instead, he took your punishing pace with the prettiest moans you ever had the honour of hearing. His voice filled the tent with a symphony of pleasure, which only grew louder when you pressed inside and your knot slipped in. Wei Ying screamed in pleasure and pain as you slotted the two of you together and filled him up with your hot seed. 

Still, it was not enough. He was beautiful, had the most breedable body you ever laid eyes upon. How could it be enough to only fill his slick hole once?You only stilled for a minute inside of him, before you pulled out until the knot pulled painfully at the inside of his rim. Then, you pushed back inside, as deep as you could go. Wei Ying whined as you fucked him like that, the knot dragging against his walls and drawing out the melody of pain mixed with pleasure. He moaned and screamed about how he was stretched to the limit, but there was no urgency in his voice this time. 

Everything was a blur from there. Somewhere between rutting inside him and fucking him with your knot, Wei Ying had gone near-silent. His ass had become so open that your knot no longer served its purpose of keeping you inside as you spilled your seed. You didn’t know how many rounds you went, how often you filled the Yiling Patriarch with your load or how often the omega came himself. In one final mind-blurring explosion of pleasure, you passed out. Whether it was on top of him or if you managed to fall beside him was out of your control. 

When you woke up, however, you found Wei Ying on top of you. The smell of sex still hung heavy in the air, mixed with pheromones, both alpha and omega. A groan left your dry throat as you lifted your head to take a look at the man to whom you were indebted with your life, twice. He looked like he was not going to wake up for another 100 years. You tried to brush the hair out of his face, but your fingers got tangled in the silk black strands. Guilt filled your heart at the sight of bruises on his hips and sides. A respectful look down revealed there was still cum dripping out of his hole. 

You untangled yourself from him. It took you a good hour to get Wei Ying cleaned up and placed on a clean towel; the straw mat was completely ruined. You had him on his side, still sleeping peacefully, while you tried to comb the tangles carefully out of his hair. You were almost done when you noticed him stir. “Wei Ying?” You called out softly, hand shooting for the waterskin. You held it to his lips. “Don’t move; drink first.” To your surprise, he obeyed. He tried to sit up, but winced. You took the hint and helped him sit on your lap, the gap between your legs perfect for his ass to rest between with no pressure on it. “I’m sorry. I lost control.” 

Wei Ying blinked at you and then reached for the jar of wine in the corner. You chuckled and handed it to him, still cradling him close. He took a few gulps, before speaking up. “I thought I would die,” he pouted in a somewhat playful way that gave you conflicted emotions about his words. “Gēge, you were such a monster. Next time, I will use a stronger talisman to keep you down.”

You inhaled sharply. ‘Next time’, he had said. You licked your dry lips and nodded, agreeing with him. A signature smile painted the omegas lips, before he snuggled closer to you. “Gege is adorable when he is worried about me. I’ll be fine, I swear. Just don’t make me do anything for a few days.” You let out an empty laugh, relieved and still worried. Another nod as you put a hand on his head, holding it close to your shoulder. You twisted your head, placing a kiss upon Wei Ying’s temple. He hummed happily and closed his eyes. 

“Wei Ying! You need to eat before you go back to sleep!” 

[dorimena]

i’m recently jumped on the subby!bakugou train and i can’t help but imagine this:

when the time came for his first time with you, he thought had that shit it the bag. how hard could it be? well, turns out it ain’t what he expected. everything was going fine until it was time for you to lower on his cock. as soon as you did that, he was done for. you were so unbelievably soft and warm and tight, he lost all drive to be the one in charge. you thought there was something wrong with him for a hot minute because he was just fuckin sitting there, panting and not answering you. “Suki, do you want me to start moving?” “hmMMm” is the one time he did answer, along with him burring his head into your chest and squeezing you tighter. It’s like he was bracing for something. Adorable. Well when you did start moving, boy was he in for it. Instead of grunts and groans like you were initially expecting from such a tough guy, he was letting out moans which you have never, ever heard from him before. While you were setting the pace, you tried getting him to move away from your chest so you could see that cute face of his. Though he wasn’t budging. What you did see of his face however, was a lovely shade of pink across his cheeks, ears and even his shoulders. Poor thing was embarrassed for not being able to take control and feeling so overwhelmed already. Adorable. You just might have to give him a reward for that.

This is- my heart doki-dokied a bit too hard and I was ready to combust (´,,•ω•,,)♡

You guys have been dating for some time, but you don’t really remember how long, not that it would matter.

He came to you out of the blue, nervous and trying not to make eye contact with you while having a cute blush on his cheeks. But you didn’t point it out or ask him about it, knowing it’ll just scare him off and have him ‘forget’ what he wanted to ask or say.

“I’m ready” is all he said before getting up and going to your shared bedroom.

You remember how your friends made a scandal about you guys living together and sharing a bed but never having sex. Not because they’re religious or anything, but more because they didn’t understand why you guys weren’t getting it on with one of the hottest proheroes in the country, unless he had erectile dysfunction.

Let’s just say the ruckus and mockery was enough to make you begin ignoring them. Maybe they had good intentions, but they’ve done a horrible job actually caring. You’re sure they just wanted the juicy details to get themselves off of.

Meanwhile, Bakugou’s lady friends, Mina and Jirou, were much nicer with the information, trying to not have you be discouraged with how long Bakugou’s taking with having sex with you, even if you later clarified that you’re not bothered by it, but you’re glad they care about your emotional wellbeing (?) Well, only Mina kind of confuses you sometimes, but she went to lengths to make you a cheer-up box. Really was just a box full of nice snacks that you hid from Bakugou before he pouts snarls about how he can make better snacks.

You feel a bit shy, suddenly bare on top of him after being fingered well enough to take his thickness. The blond, on the other hand, is sporting a smirk, one full of impatience yet pride, wanting to hear you moan and whine like you did moments ago. He’ll be the one making you cry tonight, making you beg for him and cry out his name loud enough to alert the neighbors about who is railing you.

Even if you both spoke about dynamics and such, you both also agreed that it didn’t matter how the first time went, as long as you both enjoy yourselves.

But boy oh boy was Bakugou thrown into a horny loop.

The moment you sink down on him, he feels you clench hard around his suddenly hypersensitive dick, he feels his gut being punched quite deeply and his thighs quiver, whether in anticipation, impatience or overstimulation.

But how could he already feel overstimulated?

He doesn’t really, but he can’t put a finger on how or what he’s feeling, not when all you keep doing is clenching and sucking more and more of him deep inside you, small pants leaving your mouth as you adjust being enough to make him realize that he can’t… move.

He’s not frozen in fear or shame, but he suddenly forgot how to move.

As if you’re sucking his knowledge of how to sex out from his dick.

God, why did you feel so good? Not even his not-so-secret fleshlight satisfied him enough like this.

Heck, he’s not even a virgin! But he sure does feel like one again.

Once you are ready, you ask him “You gonna move?” in such a sweet tone, in such a soft tone, Bakugou barely gets to remember how to answer properly.

So a hum of confirmation is the only thing you hear from him before you feel how his hips oddly move, as if simply trying to reach more in you. And if you hear his voice crack a little, you don’t say anything at all.

You wait for a bit but his hips really don’t do anything, but they keep twitching. So you tighten your grip on his shoulders and begin to grind slowly, feeling how he slides out a little and then slides back in perfectly.

Bakugou shudders as you keep doing that, his eyes focused on your chest before leaning in, burying his face in your skin as his arms wrap around your waist now, holding you not too tight but tight enough to somewhat ground him back into reality.

How pathetic! All of his sexual prowess and experience, his dominance, completely gone as you begin bouncing on his lap, pulling gasps of your names and cute moans from the depths of his throat.

You were ready to listen to his groans, his grunts, his growls, the usual sounds he makes whenever you come home early and eavesdrop his fleshlight moment, the way he lowly moans your name and compliments how well you’re riding him always haunting you to sleep, making you wish the day you both have sex come sooner.

And now that that day has come, you’re engraving his airy whines, his rising-in-pitch moans, his gasps of surprise whenever you clench rather tightly around him. And you’ve decided that from now on, it’ll be your lifelong mission to have him make those noises everyday, any way.

Whether you’re sucking his dick underneath the covers or stroking him while he’s playing some co-op game with his friends online.

You call for him in between your own much-lower-pitched moans, trying to pull your chest away to look deep into his eyes but instead being pulled in closer, making you feel the vibrations of his sounds against your heart.

So you look down, trying to figure out how to pull him off. Then you see how pink his shoulders look, making you wonder if that’s because of you or something else. And when you somehow change your angle, you catch the side of his face completely pinkish-red, making you giggle as you go even faster, fucking him hard enough until he’s choking on his calls of your name, lifting his head enough to reveal his eyes as he silently tells you how close he is, how he wants to cum.

You don’t know this, can’t even guess, not when you feel him pulling you down harder, small squeaks interrupting his whines.

How can this man be so adorable? Such a powerful being, one once praised as if a god, suddenly being a mere moaning mess under you while you bring him closer and closer to his euphoria, to his sweet, sweet satisfaction.

You smile once he cums, holding him close as you slow down, milking him as he makes cute noises close to being punched repeatedly in the gut.

You’re definitely taking the reigns from here on out, and if he wants to fuck you, it’ll be by your orders.

“Baby boy~”

And Bakugou silently nods, shivering at the name and peeping out the tiniest moan of “yes”, as if awaiting your next command.

“I didn’t cum yet.”

And you didn’t have to say it twice, not when he’s trying so hard to properly use his hips to fuck up into you, making the bed squeak inconsistently.

[saphirered]

Saph I hope you feel better! I really liked the VM Snow White you just posted, but could you also please do the same prompt but with M9 boys including Molly? If you’re not feeling up to it that’s fine too!

Thank you! The meds are beginning to do their job luckily. I'm glad you liked the last one. I blinked, my hand slipped and now it's here. Prepare for some angst. Hope you enjoy! 😘

(Caleb)

Caleb had always known his past would come to haunt him. He was prepared for it. Prepared to take the hit, take responsibility for everything and he’d face his past be that with or without the people he loves. Part of him, once he got used to having these fools around, having you around, wanted it to be on his own, to protect them and protect you. To not have any more lives lost in the grand scheme. The people he loves becoming collateral would be unacceptable. But you had become collateral in the grand scheme of things.

When it became clear to his enemies he was a bit more attached to you than the others, they took this weakness and exploited it. They pushed his buttons before, using you as a tool, verbal bait even, but he never fell for it. His reluctancy to act on his feelings, to keep them to himself instead, were the very thing he hoped would keep those loose ends from latching onto you. His love is a curse, the objects of his desire always to be torn away from him no matter how hard he tries to prevent it. He’s lost you to that same curse. Not lost. Almost lost.

You’ve been cursed, your conscious mind separated from your unconscious body. Simple healing spells wouldn’t do the trick here. This curse holds no roots in the divine. He’s spent days researching and that much he could confirm. This curse would take an arcane approach. Something he prides himself in to be his specialty. Lucky you. Lucky him. He had the others bring all books, ancient scrolls and other sources of knowledge brought to him, along with a wide variety of components once he’d made a significant dent in the research matter, assuring him this would have the greatest chances of success.

It’s not the soft canopy bed with the plush pillows from the fairytales you’re placed on. Instead you lay on a wooden table, inscribed with all sorts of arcane sigils. Nor do you look like some angelic peaceful being. Your brow is furrowed in discomfort, your hands balled into fists at your sides. Caleb moves a brush against areas of exposed skin, painting symbols to match with precision and care, afraid to even make a single mistake, triple checking every mark. He speaks the incantations while incorporating the components varying from precious gems crushed and whole, herbs and incense. And then he waits. He doesn’t expect the effects to be immediate, often with these magics it is not and he knows that but that doesn’t get rid of the impatience and fear.

“How I long to hear your voice again. I know this will work but that doesn’t ease away the sliver of doubt. What if… What if… That’s what I keep asking myself. I know it’s stupid.” Caleb wipes an hand over his brow as he pulls up a chair and sits at your side, elbows leaning on the table careful to avoid any sigils just in case.

“It also faced me with the harsh reality that I held off telling you how I feel. It looks so stupid now in hindsight because what good did it do anyone. In the end you still ended up paying for my mistakes. I was stupid to push you away, try to convince you your own feelings were unreciprocated. I know I didn’t have you fooled in the slightest but to know I could have loved you, it makes me feel like I am to blame for wasting that opportunity and possibly shortening our time together. The thought of losing you before having given you my love will forever be my greatest regret.”

Caleb watches the muscle of your hand unclench and relax. He hears a deep intake of breath and staring at your face he’s met with your smile, one filled with love as he helps you sit up. All is good once more.

(Fjord)

Fjord’s drenched to the bone, out of breath, anger running through him like he’s never experienced. Still he’s unsure if his anger is directed at the one responsible for your eternal slumber or at himself for making a ballsy move that didn’t pay off in the slightest and in fact backfired in a worse way he could have ever imagined. He played a game of chicken with Uk’otoa and lost. He’d have been fine by letting someone else pay the price for him. Why should he care about some stranger becoming victim to the leviathan? The one who paid the price, became the victim to his actions didn’t end up being a stranger. It had to be you of all people hadn’t it?

Uk’otoa must have been watching his dreams, even his waking actions if that were possible and have seen his infatuation with you. When the leviathan threatened Fjord in another briny dream of his mentioning your name he had called bullshit. The snake had never been able to reach out to anyone it didn’t already have some kind of grasp on. Little did he know Uk’otoa had just that. Just enough of a sliver through him, and the Cloven Crystal to get to you.

So there Fjord sits at your bedside. You’re just as drenched as he is, hair dripping, skin glowing in the candle light of the room reflected off the water particles. Your lips are tinted blue, a redness around your eyes, your skin is cold. The sleep you’re in is a state of perpetual drowning and Fjord knows what it feels like, to drown. He can only hope you’re spared that pain. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to forgive himself if you are tortured like so because of his actions. Clasping your hand between both of his he runs his fingers over your knuckles. He bows his head. It still feels so wrong to not have you respond to his touch. So wrong.

“I want you to know that I am to blame for your fate. I’m about to do a very stupid thing to make it right. I know you’d tell me not to but I can’t sit by and watch you suffer like this. I’ve tried everything. I’ve begged and bargained. I’ve shouted at the skies but I got no reply. Everything comes up empty and I see no other choice than to do this. It might sound stupid but I came to ask for your forgiveness.” Fjord pauses. Usually he would have gotten a reply. He would sell his soul for just having you tell him everything will be alright. It’s a good thing he’s about to sell it for so much more than that. It’s worth it. It’s worth having you alive and well.

“I won’t ask for forgiveness for what I’m about to do because I will never regret it. I ask only you may one day forgive me for what I might become. I need you to know I love you and did, will do all of this out of love. That’s why I hope you’ll never see me again after I give myself to Uk’otoa. I can’t bare to watch that affection in your eyes being replaced by hatred, but most of all disappointment. I hoped to be worthy of your love and I will always regret never having truly experienced it.” Fjord’s voice cracks slightly. He studies your face, as if to ingrain every detail into his memory, as if he thinks he might never see it again.

“I’m afraid. I’m so deadly afraid.” Fjord whimpers pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before he lets go. He checks his supplies, taking out the Cloven Crystal, glaring at the orb intensely cursing the thing to oblivion. Coughs pull him out of his staring match with the crystal. Your body moves, leaning over the edge of the bed vomiting up brine. Fjord drops the orb and his belongings running over to you and helping you gather your bearings until you’re no longer chocking on sea water.

“You better not do what I think you’re planning with that orb or so help me Storm Lord, I will drown you myself.” Fjord can’t do anything but laugh despite the very real threat on his life as you pull him into your embrace.

(Caduceus)

Caduceus isn’t bothered by death. Death is part of life as much as living is. It’s inevitable. Every soul will move on, leaving its vessel for the earth, the fire or the wild things to bring forth something new. What does very much bother him are perversions of death, those who try to cheat death, upset the natural balance, maim and manipulate that what is and should be. He hates it with a passion and seeks to rectify it, return the world to that balance when faced with it. That’s where you come in. You much like him have a respect and understanding of life and death similar to his own. Very few people understand that. Very few people do not fear the end when they see it coming. You’re one of those very few people.

You understand Caduceus on a different level, in his sentiment and mannerisms while others may think him strange. Not that he cares if people do, you’ve been his filter in the big shiny new world past the borders of his grove. You’ve been his safety net, his grounding force, his safe haven when the world seems against him and he thinks his senses might be wrong. The Wild Mother must have gently blown her winds to bring you together.

That’s why it seems so wrong you’re affected by this darkness having taken hold over your body, leaving you in a state of not entirely alive nor dead. Resurrection has been futile as much as draining your life and allowing you to move to the care of the Wild Mother herself. You’re trapped and that’s why Caduceus fears what would happen should you die. He’s seen what this perversion of life and death has done to his home, the forests surrounding it and the creatures living in it. He’ll do everything in his power to prevent that from happening to you.

Caduceus has put your body through the typical burial rites and rituals, preserving what he can by using wards and the divine blessings granted to him by his goddess, sending her prayers of your recovery but you appear to be even beyond her reach now. He moves a damp cloth across your arms and face, brushing aside your hair, humming to himself until he’s done, moving on to clean the room around you, getting rid of the dust, placing things back where they belong and replacing the decayed flowers with fresh ones. Caduceus gathers his tea, preparing a cup for himself as he watches you.

“Can you show me how they’re doing?” The wind grows cold. He knew that would be the answer but still he could hope maybe that answer could change.

“Are they in pain?” The wind grows warm but then cold again. You were, but not anymore. It seems that the new wards he’s put up are doing their job. That’s good.

“Is there a cure?” The gentle breeze disappears. She doesn’t know then. This goes even beyond the goddess herself but it doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Caduceus will keep hope, though it is dwindling fast, for your sake he’ll have hope. He’s always spoken to the dead before and while you’re not really dead, there’s a strange comfort to something that feels so final.

“Hey. I’d ask you how you’re doing but that’s not gonna work now, is it? Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine. I know you are. You’ve managed to keep me alive with the others for much longer than I’ve been taking care of you like this. I think we’re going to be fine. I know you’re here but I still miss you. Calliope makes for terrible company watching things unfurl between the others. She’s too much of a hopeless romantic. You forgot to tell me the recipe to that special brew of yours. I’ve been trying to recreate it but I haven’t been able to. I think what I’m trying to say is, I could really do with having my best friend back. That’d be nice.”

Caduceus sips his tea, face devoid of his usual dopy smile. A sudden breeze hits through the window, blowing it open. A few lighter weight and loose items go flying but the thud of a heavier one is clear to hear. Caduceus closes the window and feels something solid hit his boot. It’s a crystal from the ones surrounding the grove. He picks it up, feeling the warmth run through it. The breeze directs towards you and he feels himself walking over to your body. The crystal calls to you and when it touches you your body runs with energy, pulsing, like you’ve been forcibly pulled back to this world. You look around eyes wide breathing heavy.

“Hey.” Caduceus smiles. “I made tea.”

(Mollymauk)

Maybe pretending you and him were some high born assholes was a questionable decision. Taking on an invite directed at the said people you were impersonating even more so, and stealing, sorry, borrowing without asking, some things from their summer cottage to swim in luxuries, an out right terrible idea when these people happen to be very well connected.

So when these fancy folk came back to the cottage earlier than expected, the two of you had grabbed what you could before making your grand escape, chased by their private guards until you lost them. A safe distance away you set up camp. Time to inspect your findings before returning to the carnival. Your eye for valuables had always been much more keen than Molly’s and your appraisals usually spot on. It was only natural he would let you do your thing but he’d still help you.

Particularly proud of getting some ornate jewellery box Molly had pried it open and revealed the jackpot. But of course you couldn’t just sell recognisable jewellery as is and you couldn’t keep such a thing on you very long. So of course you went to work, prying the stones from their settings. A particular necklace was giving you trouble, not even your tools being able to pry it out, you even broke one so you left that one for last.

The two of you had argued, eventually setting on just smashing the stone with the pommel of Molly’s scimitar, the broken gem still providing plenty of pay and not being as recognisable in peaces. So you held the necklace across a stone while he smashed it. When it did a spark hit, next thing he knew you were on the ground, your hands burned where you held the precious metal. At first he thought you were simply knocked out but when you didn't wake up he grew worried. Splashing water in your face, shaking you, lifting your legs, nothing got you to wake up so instead he carried you and the jewellery back to the carnival. Two days and still you didn’t wake up. It became clear this bloody gem was cursed when dark veins started crawling up your skin as the days passed.

Since this was technically on him, Molly took care of you. He makes quite a doting nurse when he wants to be but never without an inappropriate comment or two. It was quite strange to not hear you laugh at or scold him for these comments. Nevertheless he’d fluff up the pillow beneath your head, provide you an extra blanket when the night was cold, tell you stories, or simply the events of the day, the people who came to the carnival, some things he lifted from people’s pockets and so on. Molly has to say he’s ashamed to admit he’d got frustrated with your unresponsiveness or rather the fact you still hadn’t woken up and there was nothing the others could do for you. A healer would still be a week or so out.

“You know, while I’ve really begun getting used to these little one-sided conversations and your lack of judgement at some of my more terrible decisions I really prefer sharing them with you in the moment. I’ve gotten caught by the guards twice now and without you, Gustav is getting a bit sick of bailing me out. I miss our little flirtations. I miss your sometimes wrong opinions, though you’d say they’re proven facts. I miss your company. I think our time apart has given me time to reflect how much you truly mean to me and how much I need you in my life.” Molly leans on his elbow as he studies your face unmoving. You look so peaceful and asleep but he’d much rather get lost in your eyes when you’re awake.

“I laughed at you when you told me the most valuable thing in the world anyone could ever give another is their heart but I think I know what that means now. I’ll offer you mine if you will have it. So please, come back and make sure my head doesn’t get up too high into the clouds or I might just float away.” Molly leans back looking at the ceiling of the tent with a sigh. He’s pulled out of his mind by a snicker.

“A dramatic confession of love to the unconscious target of your affections? And you call me cliche.” Molly looks at your face, eyes still closed but smug grin clear on your face. He pokes your side making you jump.

“You are insufferable.”

[versadies]

hello! congrats on 1k, i saw that you opened an event so i would like to try and join in!

Capricorn + Jean and Beidou + any hcs! + either fluff or angst (you can decide whichever <3)

unexpected (hc scenario, mermaid au and royal au)

penpal: ty for requesting !! hope you don't mind me making this request into an au hc <3

prompt: capricorn the sea-goat, first word soulmate au

pairing/s: jean x gn!reader, beidou x gn!merman/mermaid!reader

sypnosis: hc on how you unexpectedly meet your soulmate.

includes: mermaid!au in beidou's part, royal!au in jean's part, no angst just fluff, grammar error

while the soulmate system exists in teyvat, so do merfolks.

merfolks have been known as a myth among the nations, with no signs of their existence that's known to humans.

however, it's the complete opposite in the sea.

as a merfolk, you've heard numerous tales of those who are above the ocean.

whether it'd be haunting myths, stories of merfolk meeting man, and so on– you grew up to despise them, always hearing the same thing in all the tales everyone had spilled on you: when a human meets a merfolk, unfortune will arrive upon the merfolk.

so when your peers started gushing and dreamily talk about encountering a human after a romance tale between a mermaid and a human arises around the seas, you were astounded. how come people change their minds so quickly after reading some fantasy?

being destined with a human is a terrifying thought for you.

the elders would reassure you that such possibility is rare for everyone in the sea, telling you that the infamous tale is nothing but just fiction.

that eased your mind a bit,

until you came across to her.

while hanging out with your friends, one of them dared to swim towards the nearest land with everyone following much to your dismay. of course, being worried of the consequences they'll face, you decided to follow as well to keep an eye on them minutes after they left you alone.

due to losing sight of them, you had no idea where they went and continue to swim straight ahead, hoping that they're not far ahead.

which led you to where you are now, hiding behind the stones and take a peek of the shore, trying to spot your merfriends by the area.

unnoticed by you, a person is slowly sneaking behind you.

"well isn't this interesting," your eyes widens from the sudden voice of the stranger, causing you to turn around and see a human.

without hesitation, you immediately turn away from the human's eyes and swam back to the ocean, ignoring the calls of the brown-haired woman who was trying to get you to come back to the shore.

as soon as you finally see the familiar silhouette of the city, you slow yourself down and try to calm yourself, your heart pacing faster than the fastest merfolk in the ocean.

not long after, you heard the familiar sounds of your friends' fins and saw them heading towards you with excited looks on their faces.

"you should've went with us, y/n. it was a blast!" one of them exclaims.

"we literally saw a human, a literal human by the shores. they looked more different than how the elders described!"

you couldn't help but let out a small sigh of relief. at least they didn't know what you did.

however, your relief was short-lived when one of your friends pointed out something.

"...wait, you've met your soulmate already?"

your breath hitched from your friend's statement, looking down at your wrist with disbelief. you felt your heart sank at the words imprinted on your skin that is now glowing before your own eyes.

"oh dear." you mumbled to yourself.

your deepest fear came true.

among the seven kingdoms, your favorite is mondstadt.

the kingdom of freedom is truly worthy of its name, with their people being welcoming and their palace being welcomed by all, it was something that makes them different from the rest.

not only that, the kingdom has also worship a god whose name is imprinted on your wrist.

the moment you found out about the fact that barbatos is actually a god that mondstadt worships for, you didn’t hesitate to stay in the kingdom longer than you usually do in other nations, hoping to encounter a person in the town who will say the exact words that’s imprinted on your wrist.

although you love to stay in the kingdom of freedom, you still travel from place to place, wanting to continue on your passion while waiting for your soulmate to meet you.

of course, whenever you’re finished in traveling to a few nations, you always find yourself going back to mondstadt with the feeling of a welcoming home.

during your recent visit to the kingdom, mondstadt is currently celebrating the windblume festival.

you aren't exactly unfamiliar with the celebration, especially with how the townsfolk you've encountered have always mentioned the festival with gleam and excitement.

unfortunately for you, you were a bit late to experience the games that were being held around the land but everyone reassured you that you're luckily enough to be just in time for the grand ball.

from what you've heard, the grand ball is the closing ceremony of the festival, whereas the ruler of the kingdom chooses a lucky mondstadtian as the windblume star and formally offer a flower from the nation to barbatos. once the star has offered a flower to barbatos, everyone around the ballroom can give their chosen person a flower that they see fit as a windblume.

so you thought to yourself: why not try out the grand ball?

you’re honestly glad that you’ve decided to come to the celebration.

the ballroom was just as enchanting as what everyone described it to be, with different kinds of flowers being plastered all around the room, the delicious mondstadt cuisines that are displayed by the tables, the exciting music playing in the background– you wanted to applaud mondstadt for such an amazing work.

being a traveler who isn't exactly a mondstadtian, you would be lying if you said you don't feel out of place in the room. although everyone is nice to you and the party is as fun as you imagine it would be, you still feel like you don't belong, the awkwardness seeping through your body as you watch everyone having fun in the ball.

it didn't help that one of the servers accidentally spilled dandelion wine on your outfit, causing you to feel embarrassed around your peers.

as a getaway, you excused yourself and ran outside from the ballroom, your cheeks starting to warm from the embarrassing experience.

to cool yourself down and get some fresh air, you decided to try and find your way to the entrance of the palace, wanting to get outside as soon as possible and get back to the party at ease.

however, as soon as you went out, you realized you weren't by the entrance of the palace at all. instead you're in a garden with a person standing nearby, who's rather busy practicing sword fighting–

while wearing a huge gown?!

before you could watch her in awe, the woman stopped when she notices your presence, eyes widening in surprise from the sudden intrusion.

"o-oh uhm," you immediately look away from the woman's gaze, glancing in other directions in fear of encountering yet another embarrassing moment. "sorry about that. i was supposed to go back to the entrance but i think i got lost so uh..."

as you try to give the lady an excuse, you didn't notice how her eyes widens slowly from your words, looking down at her wrist to see the words imprinted on her skin glowing back at her.

"dear barbatos." she spoke up, looking back at you in disbelief.

you were suddenly taken back by surprise, looking back at the woman. "..wait i'm sorry, what did you say?"

the blonde haired woman’s hand slowly covers her own mouth, hesitantly walk towards you with a relieved look on her face. "it's you.. you're.. you're my soulmate."

from her words alone, you immediately look at your wrist, your heart paced faster when you noticed the glowing words in your skin as well.

"i uh," you let out a light laugh, stumbling a bit from the shocking discovery. "i didn't expect this."

the woman laughs as well. "i have to say the same as well,"

you watched as she kneels slightly in courtesy, her blue gown slowly dropping down to the cold hard ground.

"my name is jean gunnhildr, the acting ruler of the kingdom of freedom. and you are?"

[boozuru]

Ghostic Prologue

chapter select  ⇢

(NOT JP PROOFED)

Season: Autumn

Yuzuru: (Goodness, I’m such a disgrace!)

(Fushimi Yuzuru, this is the greatest mistake of your life. Young master could fall into danger any moment…!)

Tori: Help… me…

Yuzuru: Young master…!

Yuzuru: I’m here! Where are you? Young master!

Tori: …

Yuzuru: Oh, thank goodness. So that’s where you were hiding. I’m glad you’re safe.

Tori: ……

Yuzuru: I can’t see any life in his eyes…

Yuzuru: I knew it, it wasn’t me misinterpreting anything. There’s something “dangerous” in this haunted house-

If only I had known, I would have been more vigilant.

Evil has made its home in this mansion. The evil spirit's existence is-

〈Going back in time by several days〉

〈Late October. One day during "Halloween Party" preparations.〉

Mao: …Phew. Good work today!

At first I was worried if we would make it in time, but now all the clerical work for collaborating with ES is basically done.

I think managing "Halloween Party" will be way easier from now on.

And Yuzuru, thanks for handling communications with Tenshouin-senpai.

Yuzuru: No need for thanks, I was also having trouble with this year's "Halloween Party" anyway.

If anything, I apologize for having to rely on Eichi-sama when we are from the same unit.

Mao: Don't say that. But yeah, it feels kinda wrong to ask the alumni for help. You're not in the wrong though, you just don't want to be thought of as an undependable underclassman.

And somehow Hasumi-senpai sensed our troubles. He really helped us out by negotiating ES joint hosting stuff with Tenshouin-senpai.

And thanks to that, we don't have to worry about the lack of live venues at Yumenosaki Academy grounds. Now we just have to focus on our individual units. ♪

Tori: A blessing in disguise, am I right~? Now we can have a joint Halloween with ES since Hasumi-senpai arranged stuff with Eichi-sama.

Make sure to thank Eichi-sama for his generosity, okay~?

Mao: Chill, dude. You're also a part of the student council, so you were the one being HELPED, right?

Ah well, whatever. It's true that we should be thankful for alumni that are willing to help us on short notice.

Shinobu: Yup yup! A helping hand when we needed one. Thanks to that, I'll be able to join in on Ryuseitai's Halloween celebration quickly too.

I'm happy that everyone else can do the same with their respective units. ♪

Mao: But it feels like I'm just making everyone else work in my stead since the others in Trickstar are working their butts off without me...

If I remember right, in fine's case Tenshouin-senpai is taking care of the project, right?

Tori: Yup. Eichi-sama is the one taking care of the ES side of things.

He did have me and Yuzuru give suggestions till the halfway point, but told us to prioritize the school so I'm pretty sure that's what's up.

Also, I don't think we need to worry about Eichi-sama considering his project track record. Hibiki-senpai joined him and so those two are working on it now.

Fufu, if there's anything that we should be worried about, it's whether Eichi-sama will be okay without me〜♪

Yuzuru: Isn't it too early to be so lax, young master?

We won't make it in time if we don't keep up our current pace. Eichi-sama and Hibiki-sama are working on Halloween preparations, and we also have our own work to do.

Tori: I know~ Yuzuru, I always tell you that you worry too much.

Besides, I've been just raring to go from the start.

You all saw what Eichi-sama's working on, right!? There's gonna be a large-scale haunted house this year at ES!

Thinking about it makes my exhaustion from practice basically fade away! ♪

Mao: A haunted house? That's awfully ambitious, isn't it~?

Shinobu: As expected of Tenshouin-dono. His mind is truly something else!

Tori: I know right? No one can beat Eichi-sama when it comes to planning stuff!

Anyways. Yuzuru, since the worst of student council work is basically done, let's go to ES.

Sorry to you guys, but us in fine are totally gonna steal the show! Try not to get forgotten now〜♪

Mao: Haha, he's really cheerful, isn't he~? Even his steps feel lighter somehow. ♪

Yuzuru: My apologies for the young master's rude behaviour, Isara-sama, Sengoku-sama.

Shinobu: No problem. If anything, seeing Tori-kun gave me new kind of energy.

Ryuseitai might be lacking in funds compared to fine, but we will liven up Halloween as well!

Yuzuru: Thank you for your reassurance.

However, young master was strangely carefree today. He must have been frustrated since he couldn't participate in fine's projects due to his position in the student council.

...Regardless, now is not the time to speculate. I suspect that if I leave young master alone right now, he will carelessly injure himself.

If you will excuse me, I will also take my leave earlier than planned. Thank you.

Mao: Yeah, thanks for today.

You can go too, Sengoku. The rest of Ryuseitai is waiting at ES, right?

We are gonna practice on campus, so I'm fine with closing up the student council office.

Shinobu: Thank you for thinking of me! Well then, I shall also take my leave.

Trick or Treat - I'm going to work hard so I can bring joy to everyone when the time comes....★

Mao: Haha. Everyone scuttled away like a bunch of baby spiders. Just that is making me think about Halloween and getting me hyped up about participating.

Alright. I'm gonna take a short break from student council president work, and spice up Halloween as idol me!

Wait for me, Trickstar… ★

[pedro-pascal-love]

The Revival

Chapter Seventeen of Well, This is Awkward

Series Masterlist ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ Join My Taglist

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 6k+

Summary: Dave is alive, but at what cost? Reader wrestles with reality.

Warnings: ANGST, language

A/N: Just a few more chapters before we come to the end! Ahhh!

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

“Who are you?”

The words were deafening, ringing in your ears, drowning out the world around you. ‘Who are you?’ They were haunting, ripping into you like a thousand knives.

He doesn’t remember me…

He doesn’t remember us...

You stood there in shock, unable to speak, your free hand coming to rest on your swollen bump. His eyes followed the movement before returning to your face, eyes narrowing at you. His following three words hurt just as much as the first.

“Where is Carol?”

You held back tears as you slowly pulled your hand away when his grip finally loosened around your wrist. You swallowed before opening your mouth, contemplating how you should answer. Taking a deep breath, you decided to go for the one closest to the truth, now knowing that he did not remember you.

“She’s – um – she’s on a work trip,” you slowly stated, rubbing your wrist where a small bruise was already forming. “I’m the nanny.” His eyebrows raised at your proclamation.

“We hired a nanny?” You nodded as you cast your eyes downward, the ground suddenly looking interesting. “Why did we hire a fucking nanny?” You recoiled at his aggressive tone.

He’s not your Dave anymore.

“Well – uh – Carol thought it would be helpful to you while she was away for work.” You answered, awkwardly shifting your weight between your feet and fidgeting with your fingers. Dave studied you, taking in your appearance, particularly your protruding belly, and recalled the kiss. The kiss had ignited something within him, but he was not sure what.

“So, if you’re the nanny, why the hell did you kiss me?”

Fuck.

“And why the fuck are you crying?”

“Um –,” you stuttered, unsure how to answer that.

I can’t just come out and tell him who I am to him.

He doesn’t remember the baby or me.

But how am I supposed to answer?

“Well?”

“Um – well – you see…I didn’t mean to.” You wanted to slap yourself.

I didn’t mean to?

What the fuck kind of excuse is that?

“I was – uh – just really glad you were alive since the girls have been really sad.”

“That doesn’t explain why you kissed me.”

“I – um – meant to kiss your cheek,” you sputtered out, the fluctuation of your voice making it sound like a question. Dave hummed at you but decided to let the subject slide. He could tell you were uncomfortable, and he felt like there was more to your story, especially since that was more of a lover’s kiss than a platonic one.

Did I have an affair with her? Dave thought to himself. He was confused, head still in a haze, and the more he thought about everything, the more his head throbbed. The two of you heard a knock at the door, and after a moment, Dr. Parker let herself in.

“How are you feeling, Dave?” she asked.

“As good as I can be,” he replied with a shrug. “When will I be released?”

“Right now, you will need to stay for a week, maybe two, for observation. You’ve been through quite an ordeal, and since you just woke up last night, we want to run some tests and see how you are doing.”

“So, a week or two,” he repeated. Dr. Parker nodded, eyes darting between the two of you, noticing your uncomfortable posture and the lack of contact.

“If it’s all right with you both, I’d like to get the ball rolling and get that CT and MRI done. I’d also like to get an x-ray to see how that leg is doing.” Dave raised his eyebrow at her words, unsure why she was addressing you in the matter. As if you were his partner and not Carol.

“That’s fine. The sooner we get this shit done, the sooner I can get out of here,” Dave quipped. “Although, I thought my wife had been called, so I’m not sure why the nanny is here.” His words stung, and tears prickled your eyes once more.  Hearing him speak about Carol being there instead of you was like twisting the proverbial knife in the wound he had inflicted, sinking deeper into your heart. If Dr. Parker was caught off guard by his words and tone, she did not show it, instead opting to acknowledge his consent to get the tests done right away.

“I will go ahead and call for a nurse to take you down to the MRI room and see how the results look,” she replied, and Dave nodded before turning to you.

“You can leave now. There’s no need for you to be here, and you should do your job and take care of my daughters.” The cruel way he addressed you further cut into you, and you meekly nodded.

“Miss, I will go ahead and show you out,” Dr. Parker kindly stated, feeling the tension in the air thicken. You mindlessly followed her, refusing to look at Dave as you exited. The moment the door shut behind you, you spotted Mel and collapsed into her arms, unleashing the sobs you had been suppressing.

“He doesn’t remember me,” you cried. “He thinks I’m just the nanny.” Mel attempted to soothe you, running a hand up and down your back as you continued to weep. The doctor looked on, a sad expression on her face, understanding how hard this was for you.

“What’s going on?” Mel asked Dr. Parker, and you paused your wailing to look at the woman. “How can he not remember her?”

“From what I gather, he may be suffering from retrograde amnesia. He can recall long-term memories, but more recent memories are affected,” she began to explain. “Due to the severity of his brain injuries, this response is quite common.”

“Will he get them back?” you managed to croak out, and she sighed heavily.

“Unfortunately, I am unable to answer that,” she answered. “In most cases, patients regain their memories; however, the length of time to achieve that is uncertain. Sometimes those memories never return.” Your tears resumed, unable to fathom the thought of Dave never remembering you or your son.

“Is there some way to help him remember?” Mel asked as if reading your mind.

“In a way, yes. There is no specific way to cure retrograde amnesia, but some people have found that exposing them to certain things or events from their past can speed up the process. Others have even gone as far as recreating those memories in hopes of jogging their memory.” You began to think of significant moments in your relationship, and many came to mind, but you were hesitant to bring them up to Dave.

I don’t want to piss him off again.

His reaction to me was already bad enough.

I don’t want to imagine what it would be like to tell him that we were involved and that this baby is his.

You were conflicted.

On the one hand, you wanted him to remember. You wanted the man who loved you back. On the other hand, you feared the potential wrath he would rain down on you if he thought you were lying. You were not sure what to do or how to fix this situation. Time would only tell, but you were unsure how long it would take for him to regain his memory. Or if he would regain them at all.

After you left, Dave was taken to get an MRI, CT scan, and x-ray. According to Dr. Parker, the x-ray looked promising, which he was happy to hear, but the brain scans were a different matter.

“Your leg has healed quite nicely. However, due to the muscle atrophy, you will have some difficulty walking and will need to come in every other day or so for physical therapy.”

“And how long would physical therapy last?” he questioned, anxious to see how long he would be unable to work.

I can’t rely on the boys to get every job done.

“Depending on your body, it can last from a few weeks to a few months. I’m assuming you were in good shape before everything, so it shouldn’t take too long, but time will only tell. I’m estimating maybe a maximum of six to eight months, especially if you are coming in multiple times a week.”

“Okay, well, I want to go home as soon as possible, doc,” he replied. She let out a sigh.

“Mr. York, although the majority of your superficial injuries have healed, and you are recovering surprisingly quick, your body is still recuperating. Your leg has healed well enough, but we must address your multiple other injuries,” she began. “The multiple stab wounds have entirely healed while you were unconscious, which is good, and your vocal cords do not seem to be in bad shape. You may experience some discomfort talking for extended periods, so please keep that in mind. I can also see that you are straining your right eye, and it will take some time to adjust to the monovision, so try not to overwork it. Your eye is a muscle, and we want to ease you into all of the changes.” Dave took all the information in, attempting to remember how he had come to acquire said injuries, but his mind was drawing a blank.

“Lastly, your brain scans,” she added but then paused, looking at the computer screen. “As I explained last night, the initial brain scans we took when you were brought in revealed massive head trauma, causing your frontal and temporal lobe to swell, and we had to go in and quickly relieve the pressure. As a result, damage to the hippocampus, located within the temporal lobe, most likely occurred, which would explain the memory loss.”

“Memory loss?”

“Yes, it’s a very common result from brain trauma. However, we could not have known how much damage had occurred until you had woken up.” Dave was confused. He knew that some parts of his memory were a little hazy, and he could not recall what happened to him before waking up in the hospital, but he did not think it was this severe. He looked at the doctor blankly, and she pursed her lips.

“Mr. York, what is the last thing you remember?”

“I – I,” he attempted to answer, head beginning to hurt from the strain.

“Do you remember anything before waking up?” He shook his head, struggling for a memory.

The last thing I can remember is fighting with Carol about her being gone so much.

I think.

“Um – the only thing I can really remember is fighting with my wife,” he finally answered, hand coming up to massage his temple.

“Do you remember how long ago that was?” He shook his head again, beginning to grow more unsettled with each passing moment.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you remember meeting the woman who was just here?”

“No.”

“What is the last date you can recall?”

“I don’t know what all this is supposed to do,” he stated, slightly irritated from her barrage of questions.

“If you can remember a date, we can possibly establish a timeline of how far back the memory loss goes.” He nodded, understanding the logic behind it.

If I had my phone with me, this would be so much easier.

“Well, what day is it today?” She looked down at her watch and quirked an eyebrow.

“It’s actually Valentine’s Day.”

“What year?”

Wait, what?

“2019.” Dave sat there blankly, thinking about the large gap in his memory. He struggled to remember something, anything. After a few moments, a clear memory finally came to him.

Halloween.

2016.

“The last date I remember clearly was Halloween in 2016,” he slowly said. “I remember that now. Because that day, my wife and I fought about her frequent absences, and I ended up having to take the girls trick or treating alone. That – that’s the last thing I can remember right now.” The doctor nodded and jotting down some notes.

“I see,” she replied. “I’m sorry that you have a few years that are unaccounted for, but with time, I am sure they will return.” Dave let out a small sigh, the lost time weighing heavily in his mind.

What the fuck happened to me?

—FIVE AND A HALLF MONTHS BEFORE—

Dave regained consciousness moments after he fell into the ocean. He was floating, and all he felt was the chill of the frigid seawater and the throbbing through his body. As his body drifted, he felt weightless, and it took everything in him to snap out of the haze and try to move. However, his form had other thoughts. As he tried to push his arm through the water, he winced, the stiffness of his limb making it nearly impossible. He finally opened his one good eye and tried to lift his head from the water, but abruptly stopped as electricity coursed through him. The unimaginable pain emanating from his neck was causing him a great deal of discomfort, and he resolved to halt any attempts of moving his head.

The waves were also unforgiving, rolling around him, invisible hands snaking over his legs, attempting to pull him under the surface. His tattered jacket was desperately clinging to his body, the ocean making it stick to him like a second skin, and he began to feel the weight of it. After several attempts, he finally managed to maneuver his arms to claw the material off himself, letting the water sweep it away. He let out a ragged breath and continued to float on his back, looking up at the dark and cloudy sky before finally closing his eye and once again imaging your face. The face he would never see again. He knew that his time had come, and it was only a matter of time before he was completely swept out to sea, and his body forever lost to the depths.

The rumbling of the storm echoed in his ears, and he thought of what could have been if he had not let his anger and pride control him, making him go after Mac. He imagined the two of you sitting in the living room with you leaned against his chest, his left hand cradling your plump middle, a book clutched in his other as he read the words out loud. He envisioned feeling your child wiggle around at the sound of his voice and your laughter filling the air at the sensation.

I wonder if it’s a girl or boy, Dave thought as his imagination continued to run wild. He kept on dreaming about what his future might have held, feeling the darkness creep over him once again.

—SHORTLY AFTER—

An older man walked along the sandy shore when he saw Dave’s figure lying face down on the ground. The man rushed to his side, fearing the worst. He was stunned at Dave’s condition, blood covering his body, soaking his clothes, open wounds scattered about, swollen from the seawater. The good Samaritan reached two fingers down to the uninjured side of Dave’s neck, wearily eyeing the deep gash, and looked for a pulse, eyes widening in astonishment at the faint beat he found.

He scrambled for his phone and called for help, informing them that it was an urgent matter, describing Dave’s injuries to the dispatcher. Within moments, the roar of a helicopter thundered through the air, coming to retrieve Dave, and the older man prayed that he would pull through. As they flew away, the paramedics tended to his body, shocked at the state of it, knowing his life was hanging by a thread. A very thin, very fragile thread. They needed to get him immediate medical attention but were uncertain whether he would survive the short trip to the hospital. He was still somewhat stable when they arrived, but he was fading fast, and he was rushed into surgery.

The doctors franticly operated on him, tirelessly working to sterilize and close the countless wounds. While he was on the operating table, his blood pressure rapidly dropped, his body beginning to seize, and they had to find the source of the problem before it was too late. They discovered massive cerebral hemorrhaging, with both the frontal and temporal lobe swelling and pressing up against his skull, and they needed to alleviate the pressure to save his life. After what seemed like an eternity in the operating room, the doctors had finally stabilized him, and he was taken to the intensive care unit to recover. However, after two days, he had yet to wake, and the doctors grew anxious. He did not respond to any painful stimuli, his eyes remained closed, and he was completely unresponsive. The only indicators that he was still alive were the steady beeping of the EKG machine and the slight rise and fall of his chest with assistance from the ventilator.

They kept a close watch on him, checking every two hours, and for two days, all seemed fine. But, one morning, a nurse noticed that he was sweating profusely, had an elevated heart rate, and was heavily breathing. The wound on Dave’s neck had been infected, and he was going into sepsis and needed treatment quickly before he worsened. They administered more antibiotics and fluids into his system, and for a few days, it was touch and go. Dave’s body was working overtime, fighting off a severe infection, while also trying to stay alive and recover from the brain swelling. They had caught the sepsis in time, but Dave would go into septic shock if it were to worsen, which would lead to organ failure and then ultimately death. He was on Death’s doorstep, and it would take a miracle for him to survive.

Several days passed, and by some divine intervention, Dave was once again stable. Although he was still comatose, his body was slowly healing, but it still had a long way to go. Days passed, then weeks, and eventually months, as Dave continued to sleep. Because he had no identification, the nurses had dubbed him Miracle Man, the nickname well-earned since he had battled injuries that would have otherwise been fatal. They tended to him daily and hoped that one day he would wake up, but with how much he had already undergone, they were skeptical that he would ever wake.

But then, after months of sleeping, Dave finally woke up.

The first thing Dave saw when he woke up was a blinding light, the brightness of the fluorescents making him squint. It took a moment before his other senses finally kicked in, and he began to discern where he was. The increasingly shrill beeping of a machine next to him rang in his ears. The material under his fingers felt scratchy and thin, offering almost no protection from the shiver that ran down his spine. The omnipresent stench of antiseptic and cleaning solution tickled his nose, and his mouth was dry. The feeling of something lodged in his throat caused him significant discomfort, and as he tried to swallow, the object remained in place, causing him slight panic. Once he realized it was a tube and he was hooked up to numerous machines, his mind began to quiet, and he felt around for the button to call a nurse. Within seconds, a man rushed in and took in his conscious form, calling for a doctor. Dave laid there, waiting for some time before a doctor and two nurses came in.

“Welcome back,” the doctor greeted with a smile. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal.” Dave attempted to sit up, but she shook her head.

“We need to remove the tube first and assess your condition, and I’m sure you have some questions.” If Dave could move his head, he would have nodded, but all he could do was lay there. The nurses stood on each side of him, and one of them reached over to remove the tube carefully.

“This isn’t going to feel good, but please bear with me,” the other one said as Dr. Parker wrote down notes. The plastic slipped out of his trachea with ease, but the feeling of a long tube being extracted was painful, and he clenched his fist. Once it was entirely out, the doctor came and sat by his side, the two nurses wheeling out the machine and checking the bags hanging beside him.

“We’ll get more fluids for him, doc,” a nurse stated as she took note of the depleted bags, and Dr. Parker nodded. Dave opened his mouth to speak, but the lack of use caused his vocal cords to rub together harshly, eliciting a pained groan from him. The woman held up her hand and cleared her throat before looking down at a clipboard.

“It’s going to be some time before you can speak without discomfort, so please don’t strain; otherwise, it’s going to feel worse,” she instructed before she continued. “Unfortunately, you came in with no identification, but once you feel comfortable speaking, we can get all that information and reach out to your family. I’m going to take your vitals now, and I don’t want you to push yourself, so let’s take it one step at a time, okay?” Dave slowly nodded, and she began her tasks, writing down everything as she went. When she finished, she sat back down and looked at him.

“You must have a lot of questions for me, so I’m going to explain as much as I can,” she began. “A little over five months ago, you were brought in, and the shape you were in was…. horrifying, to say the least. You were covered in numerous wounds, and to be honest, we weren’t sure you were going to make it. There were a few close calls, but by some miracle, you managed to pull through. Someone up there must really like you.”

Have I been asleep for almost six months?

Dave absorbed her words as she continued to explain what kind of condition he was in initially. She informed him of his broken leg, the loss of his left eye, and the numerous lacerations covering his body, the most problematic ones on his neck and chest. Time seemed to drag on with each explanation, and Dave began to feel overwhelmed. Sensing the information overload, Dr. Parker stopped and cleared her throat.

“I know it’s a lot to take in right now, so I’ll leave you to get some rest. We can talk some more tomorrow.” With those words, she departed, and Dave let out a breath. His chest and throat were still sore from being intubated, but luckily it had faded to be more of a dull ache. He kept his eye open, adjusting to the loss of the other one, and he began to think. He wasn’t sure how he had ended up in the hospital, much less how he acquired his injuries. He calmed his mind and tried to think of the most basic things. Starting with his name. Relief flowed through him as he remembered who he was.

I am David York.

Born April 2nd, 1975.

I am married to Carol York.

I have two daughters, Alice and Molly.

He let out a breath and relaxed as he repeated those words in his head and thought of their faces. He closed his eye and decided to rest a little before morning came.

I’ve rested enough, but tomorrow is going to be a long day.

Dave woke as slivers of sunlight peaked through the curtain as he opened his eye and sighed. Last night had not been a dream. As he recalled the previous night’s events, a nurse came in.

“Good morning, Miracle Man,” she greeted with a smile.

Miracle Man?

Dave’s confusion must have been evident on his face because she let out a chuckle. “We didn’t want to keep calling you ‘John Doe,’ and the nickname seemed fitting after everything that you’ve gone through.”

“I see,” he hoarsely replied, awkwardly nodding his head at her explanation. She beamed at him as she heard his voice.

“Oh! You’ve got your voice back. That’s good!” she exclaimed. “Though, you shouldn’t push yourself too much.”

“I know my name,” he blankly stated, her quirkiness being too much for him to handle so early in the day. “The doctor said you’d call my family?”

“Absolutely! Let’s get your information down, and we can get them here.” He rattled off his information to her, and she hurried away to call his family. As he waited, nurses rotated through his room, checking on his condition. Dave showed more improvement with each check-in, being able to speak without as much discomfort, and Dr. Parker was impressed. Several hours passed, and Dave was growing antsy. The medication he was on did enough to numb the pain, but he was not a fan of hospitals or being cooped up.

He was snapped from his thoughts as the door to his room slowly opened, and a very heavily pregnant woman walked through. His mind was swimming with confusion as they looked at each other, and then she suddenly threw herself at him, arms wrapped around him, tears flowing down her face. She quickly tugged him into a heated kiss, and he tensed.

What the fuck?

As she pulled away, he brought his hands up to grip her shoulders and pushed her back. He watched as she stumbled and almost fell over, and his gaze hardened.

Who does this woman think she is?!

Dave felt something tug at him from that kiss, but he pushed it away. He could never betray Carol like that. Ever. Conflict swirled within him as he blankly stared at the mysterious woman as she took a timid step forward.

“Dave, are you okay?” she whispered, placing her hand on his cheek. It was soft, and the warmth was comforting, but the image of his wife came to mind and drew him back to reality. He roughly grabbed her wrist and pulled it away, angrily looking at her.

“Who are you?”

Your trip to the hospital had turned out differently than you had expected. Instead of getting the happy reunion that you hoped for, you walked away with a broken heart. It still hurt the second time around, and you weren’t sure which was worse, thinking Dave was dead or him being alive and not remembering you. Mel had taken you home, and you sat on the sofa staring off into space, waiting for her to pick up the girls from school.

How am I supposed to explain this to the girls?

What am I going to do now?

How do I explain to him that he and Carol are divorced?

Question after question ran through your head.

You were pulled from your thoughts as you heard the slam of car doors and the patter of feet on the pavement before Alice flung the door open. She and Molly saw you on the couch, with a forlorn expression, and stopped in their tracks. They slowly approached you and sat down on either side of you as Mel walked in, carrying a tray of smoothies. She gingerly placed it on the coffee table and took a seat on the armchair across from the three of you, and watched.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” Molly whispered with a hug. You let out a sigh as you drew both girls to you.

“Girls, I have to tell you something,” you began, trying to find the right words. “Um – your dad – well – he’s alive.” silence filled the air as they processed your words.

“Daddy’s alive?!” Alice exclaimed, leaping up with excitement. Molly pressed herself against you further, sensing your sadness.

“Yes, but there is something you should know,” you continued, causing Alice to pause and Molly to look up at you. “Your daddy – he doesn’t – he doesn’t remember your baby brother or me.” They cocked their heads in confusion.

“What do you mean?” Molly questioned.

“He doesn’t remember you?” Alice added. You gave them a nod, and tears stung the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill.

“What mommy is trying to say is that your daddy hit his head very hard, and he is having a little trouble remembering.” Mel cut in, knowing you were on the verge of breaking down.

“Will he be okay?” Alice asked.

“We hope so,” Mel stated. “But it is going to be a little tough.”

“Why?”

“Because – “

“Because daddy only knows me as the nanny,” you interjected, finding your voice once again. “So, we are going to have to act like that for a while, okay? At least until he remembers.” The girls looked at you in confusion.

“But why?” came Molly’s voice.

“Because it will make daddy’s head hurt more if we try and make him remember. He has to remember on his own,” you replied. “Think of it like me making you eat your veggies when you don’t want to, but if I don’t make you, you will eat them without a fight, right?” They nodded, understanding what you meant.

“So, when does he come home?” Alice asked.

“In a few weeks, I think,” you answered.

The weeks flew by quickly. Dave was released to go home about two and a half weeks after he woke up, with the stipulation that he return every other day for testing and physical therapy, and the girls could not have been more thrilled. You, on the other hand, were torn. The three of you had picked Dave up from the hospital, and the ride home was extremely awkward. The girls had filled the silence with their never-ending stories of all that Dave had missed, and you could tell that it weighed heavily on his mind that he could not remember the last few years. Dr. Parker had informed you that he had a memory gap of about three years, so he would not remember anything occurring during that timeframe.

During the two and a half weeks, you had moved your things from the master into the nursery, knowing Dave would question why your things were mixed with is, and you were not ready for such questions. Navigating around each other would be difficult, but Dave seemed to brush you off at each turn, only acknowledging you when needed. After all, to him, you were just the nanny. The days you would drive him to the doctor, and you had the girls alone, they would express their sadness at the tense atmosphere between the two of you. They would comfort you as much as they could, but you could tell that it was hurting them as well to see you so broken. Several times they had almost let it slip that you were carrying his child and that you were more than just the nanny to them, but every time you would catch it and shake your head at them. Luckily, Dave had been none the wiser or at least chose to ignore it, and you had been somewhat relieved.

He had asked about Carol several times and had even tried to call her but had noted that her number had changed, which he found to be very odd. You had tried to avoid the subject as much as you could, but one day it was unavoidable. While you were driving Dave to his appointment, he decided to bring her up yet again, and unbeknownst to you, he had found the files and divorce papers the night before.

“So, do you have anything to tell me about Carol? Or are you going to keep avoiding it?” His question had completely taken you off guard, and you knew he had you cornered. “Her number has changed, and she’s been gone on her ‘work trip’ for longer than she usually. What is going on?” You stayed silent while clutching the steering wheel tightly.

How the fuck do I answer?

Oh my god, what do I say?!

You kept your eyes forward and could tell that Dave’s patience was growing thin.

“I would appreciate it if you did not hide things from me,” he added, sensing your unease, and decided to address you more kindly. You swallowed before glancing at him as you reached a stoplight.

“She’s - um – well – you kind of divorced her,” you finally answered, gulping nervously, waiting for a reaction. Dave let out a sigh and shook his head. “She was – um – having an affair.”

“I know.” You looked at him, eyes wide as saucers, at his admission.

He knew yet he had been asking you.

“I saw the photos last night, and I saw the divorce papers on my desk.”

“Oh,” came your quiet reply.

“So, tell me, why have you been keeping this from me?”

“I – uh – didn’t think it was my place to tell.”

“As the nanny, I’d think it was your place to tell me these things. After all, I have been making a fool of myself in front of my daughters, and you let me.” You bowed your head in shame. It sounded like he was blaming you.

“I’m sorry. I – I just didn’t know what to do,” you apologized.

“Don’t let it happen again,” came his short reply, his dismissive and slightly aggressive tone returning. You nodded and continued your way to his appointment in silence.

Several more weeks passed after Dave had confronted you about Carol, and his demeanor had slowly changed. Gone was the brooding man who kept asking about his absent wife, instead replaced with a more attentive father who focused on his daughters. You were happy his mind was no longer on Carol, but that did not mean he would remember you, or his feelings for you would return. To him, you were still the nanny—the nanny who was currently pregnant with his child. You still felt awkward being in his presence alone, but he had gradually begun to warm up to you, acknowledging you more often than not. You could tell that he felt remorseful for how he had treated you initially, especially when he thought he was still married to Carol, but other than that, he did not show any affection besides more kindness toward you. Sometimes he would still respond in a harsh tone, but it had occurred less and less, and you were grateful.

One evening, after putting the girls to bed, you had sat in the living room, quietly reading when Dave entered and sat on the chair opposite of you. You looked up at him before darting your eyes back down to your book, trying to quell the thundering of your heart. He sat there, silently watching you, and you tried not to wiggle under the intensity of his gaze but found it challenging. He softly whispered your name, and you looked up, meeting his eye.

“Something has been bothering me for quite some time,” he began, and you grew anxious.

What could it possibly be now?

“Why do you never go home on weekends?” You froze, unsure why he was asking such questions.

Did he know?

“When Carol hired me, she said it was a live-in position and not to worry about my apartment,” you responded with a shrug. It was mostly the truth.

“I see. And the father?” he asked, gesturing to your bump. Your breath caught in your throat and you darted your eyes down, again caught off guard by his blatant curiosity and the slightly concerned tone in his voice. From what you could guess, he had yet to find the evidence of your relationship, mainly the security footage and photos from your time together. Then again, you had worked very hard to get rid of it all the evidence while he was in the hospital, not wanting to leave any trace, fearing it would upset him. Having a degree in computer sciences came in handy, and you had managed to back up all of the information about your relationship onto a separate hard drive that was secretly tucked away in your bedroom. Dave had been respectful enough not to invade your privacy and go into the nursery, and you were thankful. If he did, he would have found the few photos of the two of you sitting on your nightstand.

“Um – the father?” you questioned after a long pause.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Yes, is there a father in the picture?” You shifted uncomfortably on the sofa and met his eyes once again, feeling them look deep into your soul as if searching for something.

“Not – not anymore,” you answered quietly, water beginning to blur your vision. “He – uh – he died.”

It isn’t a lie.

Dave sucked in a breath, his eyes softening as he took in your deflated form. This was the first time he had shown some semblance of care toward you, and you were not sure how to handle it.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It is what it is.”

“May – may I ask what happened?” he asked gently. Again, his inquiry blindsided you.

Why does he suddenly want to know?

Why the sudden caring attitude?

“I – um – I’m actually not sure,” you stated honestly. “All I know is he just disappeared the day after I told him, and I never heard from him again.” You began to fidget with the pages of the book on your lap, hoping he would drop the matter.

“I’m sorry that he did that to you,” he said sincerely. “No woman should ever have to go through that. And no woman should ever have to raise a child alone.” You nodded and decided that this heart-to-heart was too much for you to bear, so you stood.

“Thank you, but I think I will be fine,” you stated, giving him a tight-lipped smile as you exited the room and made your way to the nursery. That night you fell asleep, tears spilling onto your pillow.

Dave had been much more kind to you as time passed, and it seemed that the conversation had struck a chord in him because he had been offering to help you with things around the house more. However, due to his leg still lacking the strength it once had, it was a challenge, but he strived to help no matter what. You had also noticed that he sought out your company more often and not, frequently sitting in the same room as you to read a book in silence or even strike up a conversation here and there. It was a welcome change, but you were still wary. Time passed by as it did since he had come home, and that morning you found yourself in a mood.

You were sore, tired, and cranky. Your due date had come and gone, and you were now two days overdue, something that made you nervous, but the doctor had reassured you that sometimes it happened, and to give it another day or two before they would induce you. You were disgruntled about that, paranoid that something would go wrong. Nevertheless, you listened to her suggestion to hold off just a little longer in case your son decided to arrive on his own. It did not help that you had been experiencing Braxton Hicks on and off the last few days, and you were ready for your little one to arrive. You had attempted a manner of all methods to coax him out, even taking a stab at yoga, hoping your son would make up his mind and vacate the premises, but he still refused.

Just as stubborn as his father.

You had asked Mel to drop off the girls at school that day due to the false labor pains, which left you alone with Dave, and the man was unfortunate enough to be subjected to your constant grumbling. He could sense that you were growing impatient with each passing moment and had offered to rub your feet to alleviate some of the pain. You had refused, feeling awkward at the prospect of his hands on you, and instead tried to busy yourself with things around the house. Dave left you to your own devices and sat at the dining table, reading one of his many books while you did the dishes when he heard a groan and then the splash of water hitting the ground.

“Uh, Dave?” you squeaked out, staring at the wet spot beneath you. “I – uh – I think my water just broke.”

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

[badgirlcovenrep]

atlas

Alex Chen × Steph Gingrich fluffy comfort one-shot

(I was talking to a friend about the game and we were discussing how Alex is probably still carrying a lot of trauma. And even after everything that happened at the mines we still don't see her really grieve for the whole situation and herself. So- I had to write it, you know?)

Enjoy!

TW: mentions of suicide, death and mental health issues.

It's two months into their relationship now, and they are somewhere in a Californian town, living in a tiny apartment close to the beach. They play together in small venues and underground clubs. Alex bartends and Steph referees for DND campaigns at a nerd bar they found by chance on their first week there.

They're happy. As happy as Alex remembers being since she was- well, maybe nine.

Every day, it's a little like waking up into a dream. Living in an apartment with her first girlfriend, listening to music as they cooked dinner together. Getting to kiss her just because Alex felt like it. Because her heart went a little loopy inside her chest when she smiled. Because she knew Steph would hold on to her waist and make her feel like she was full of electricity.

The 'falling in love' business felt overrated before Steph.

But Being in the middle of it now, Alex doesn't think there's anything better.

Although a part of her still felt quite numb - she guesses it's not something that will go away that easily - and day by day, Alex felt a little bit more like she could breathe... like she was finally letting herself go, at least a little bit.

****

Now that she could comprehend and use her powers, it also seemed as if she'd started to become even more of a magnet for all sorts of emotion around her. And apparently Alex could do it in her sleep too.

The nightmares came in clusters most of the time, a badly cut-together mess of voices and feelings. The lady that lived under them, who lost her son when he was little. The couple from down the street, who were going through a hard time in their relationship. Even the little girl from upstairs, who had terrible night terrors of sharp-teethed monsters reaching from under her bed.

They all mixed inside her head until she woke up gasping for air and sizzling with emotion.

It was rare that she'd have a full dream, one that made sense and completed itself, but when she did they were always about Gabe. About sitting together at the rooftop of the Lantern and sharing a beer. Or climbing trees, like they used to do when they were little.

It was a relief from the usual doom.

And that dream was supposed to be nothing different. Or at least she thought it wasn't.

****

In it, they were at the ravine. A world of twinkling stars shining above their heads. The Colorado mountains all around them creating a landscape that was just as beautiful as it was bittersweet. Alex could see the log she'd crossed, still standing between her and the tiny outcrop of stone Ethan had been stranded on.

She hadn't dreamed of the ravine since leaving Haven Springs, but while she was there, Alex dreamt of it every night. She would see it when her eyes were closed. She could hear it, - the sirens, the terrible, deafening rumble of the ground splitting beneath them. The panic, pounding into her ears.

But this is different. Because when she looks around, Alex realizes she's standing over the elevated plateau, tied to the waist and leaning all her weight against a sturdy piece of rock.

Looking at her from below is Gabe. Lying on the cold ground. A cheesy smile spread across his face.

"Why are we switched?" Alex asks because that's all she can think of asking, as she stares at the rope that anchored her to the ground... to Gabe.

"Beats me. This is all your brain, not mine." He says, and Alex huffs in annoyance, "you know what's going to happen, but you keep coming here."

"I don't have a choice."

"Hmmm..." Gabe hums, but there's some humor in his expression as he stares intently back at her, "and that's exactly why... I'm here because I should say goodbye."

A coldness spreads over Alex's limbs. Around her, the very fabric of the dream dims into darkness as a strong breeze blows past them. She suddenly feels like throwing up.

"What- what does that mean?" It's a stupid question. This is her dream. Alex knows what it means.

Deep down, she knew she'd been conjuring him up for her own sake. Trying to bring back any morsel of relief into the giant hole he'd left inside her heart. However, Alex also knew at some point he'd be gone- she just didn't expect-

"You don't need me anymore, Alex." He says. As if it's that simple. As if she'd ever-

"I'll always need you, Gabe. Of course I need you." The words stumble out of her mouth, and she can feel the hot, angry tears falling down her face.

It feels like a hot iron pressed to the very top of her chest.

Like lava, boiling up into her bloodstream until Alex wants to punch something. The steam that prickles from under her skin, fighting to break free.

Anger always comes first when people feel cornered. It's something she noticed a while back. Out of all the emotions Alex had dealt with the past few months, that, at least, hadn't changed.

"Shit, Gabe. When you died I needed you more than ever."

"But we can't fix that, can we?" He asks, and another wave of anger rips through her. She looks anywhere but him, because Alex feels that if she does, she'll tackle and kill him all over again. But when he says nothing and they're left in the same pocket of silence - the one right before the whole world collapsed - her eyes eventually fall back to her brother. Tied to her and laid on the ground beneath. Looking at her like just as much the goofy asshole she missed so much.

Anger always felt urgent and fast, like a flash going through her body and leaving everything inside it in disarray. It demanded to be completely felt, but only for the moment it took for Alex to decide it wasn't worth launching the nearest object at a window.

Or trying to kill her dead brother.

"You might have needed Gabe. But you don't need this Gabe anymore, Alex. You can do it on your own now."

The fear and sadness that came after? They were usually much, much worse.

"But this is the only Gabe I have."

Those emotions, when mixed, turned into a horrible harmony that paralyzed her lungs and darkened the sides of her vision. They felt just as urgent as anger, but complacent. A beast staring at her from the very bottom of a pit. Tied to her by the waist and trying to lure her down into the abyss.

And, for Alex, the abyss was as deep as a ventilation shaft for a Colorado mining site.

"No, it's not. You'll always have me, Alex. And you know that." Not in the way that matters. Alex wants to say, but it's so redundant. He's the ghost. He should already know that. "And you have Ryan now, and Eleanor, Riley, Charlotte, Ethan... Steph..." he gives her a cheesy smile in the last name, wiggling his eyebrows back at her teasingly.

"Oh, God, way to ruin the moment." Alex can't help but chuckle a little through her tears. Is she blushing? You can't blame her for blushing, right? God, she feels like Diane.

"Hey. Let me have it. One of my only regrets is that I never got to tease the hell out of Steph for dating my little sister... and for being whipped as hell."

"That would have been so funny."

"I knew she'd get along with you but I guess I didn't expect... that. Shame on me. Should've had more artistic vision."

Alex chuckles as more tears run down her face. It's so bittersweet it hurts from the very inside of herself.

"All jokes aside. I'm glad you have her, and that she has you. She's good. Just make sure you tell her I'll haunt her from the grave if her dumb ass breaks your heart, okay?" Alex nods, and her body starts shaking with strangled sobs. So much emotion she just can't let go of. Because if she does, Alex is afraid there'll be nothing left.

"Hey. Don't cry. You can do this, Alex. You know how to live life now."

"I don't want to lose you again, Gabe."

"You'll never lose me. You'll just have to look a little harder." He smiles up at her, pulling jokingly on the rope, "now play your part - or is it my part? You get it."

And then- too soon. (Same as it was that night.) The sirens blast through the mountains, and somewhere above them, a giant explosion blows her eardrums, and boulders the size of cars come tumbling down the mountain.

She barely has time to blink. Barely has time to breathe one last time. Seen as she's Gabe, when she looks up all she sees is the giant rock, flying towards her, hitting her across the torso so hard, before she knows, she's flying way above the ravine, and one last glimpse of the stars catches hold over the veil of her memory before everything turns black.

****

She wakes up in bed, desperately clawing at the top of her chest as she gasps for air. Her lungs feel like they're made of lead, and all around her, she can feel the weight of the rocks, the explosion, the debris, weighing down her body.

Alex pats across the mattress for Steph, who is not there. Another wave of panic washes over her. So strong her mouth turns dry and her head aches as she tries to breathe in, but her lungs can only handle tiny, torturous gasps of half-breath.

Alex dispels a world of curses towards herself inside. Willing her own body to just calm down. In the bathroom, she can hear Steph singing softly to herself- she must have come home late from the DND tournament. Alex told her she'd swing by, but she'd had a long shift and ended up just passing out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Alex hadn't had an incident like this in very long. She could control it now. Most times. It wasn't easy, with being on the road and constantly surrounded by people. Sometimes, she still got more than she could bargain. When she walked across a depressed person on the sidewalk, or heard one of their multiple neighbors yelling at each other through the walls, and suddenly she felt as if the world blended out of focus into a tsunami of feeling.

Feeling that wasn't hers but still felt so much like it was.

Steph helped whenever it happened. For a sarcastic punk rock mess, she was surprisingly stable and so very reassuring.

Just the fact that she can hear her voice. That Steph is there in the apartment with her, is enough to calm some of her nerves, and while Alex still can't keep herself from pulling in gasps of air as she tries to hold in any kind of oxygen, she at least has a plan.

Water. Water will make her feel better, right?

Almost as soon as the idea crosses her mind, Alex's half-delirious brain commands her to get up, but her body feels so very heavy. Like she's really been trampled over by a wave of giant boulders. And as soon as her feet touch the ground, her legs give up under the weight, and she falls onto the hard floor with a loud, heavy thud.

The girl's hands fly up to hold her weight against the bed, and thankfully that means she doesn't face plant the ground, but it sends her heart into a neck-breaking pace, and all air Alex'd been able to gather so far escapes her in a single huff until she's hyperventilating again, hot, angry tears running down her face.

You're so weak. You're such a fucking idiot. Of course, you had to go and lose Gabe twice, who the fuck would want to stay with such a mess-

"Alex, are you okay?" Steph's voice comes, as she opens the door to find her girlfriend sitting on the ground, looking like she might pass out from just trying to get her lungs to work, "Alex!"

In a second she's crossed their room and kneeled by her, both hands going up to her cheeks on instinct, smearing away her tears.

"Breathe with me, okay? We've done this before, you can do it." She always gets just a tiny bit of a scared aura around her when Alex gets like this, never for long enough that she can read it, but it's still there, the tiny flutter of fear, "come on, breathe."

Her eyes go up to find Steph's, her strong, glittering green gaze. Alex might be the one with superpowers, but it was Steph who could so easily reach in and soften her edges like it was nothing. It was Steph who could just lean in and hold Alex's hand against her chest, letting her feel the determined rise of her lungs. Strong. Stable. Even Alex couldn't possibly understand how she did that.

How she always made Alex's breathing slowly come to shaky, deep breaths, crawling painfully out of her dry throat, but still better than gasping like a fish. Inside her, Alex feels the furious hurricane of emotion, twisting itself into the bottom of her lungs, taking hold of every bit of her until she felt like she could throw up.

"Wait here, I'll get you water," Steph says, and Alex wants to complain, she doesn't want to be alone, even for a second.

But before she can, Steph has left their bedroom for the kitchen, and Alex feels as if she's stable enough to crawl into bed, so she does so at a glacial pace. She grabs Shu-Shu, holding her close to her chest as she sits and waits for Steph.

She eventually comes back in with a glass full and Alex gulps it down in silence, unsure if whatever dam of emotion that has taken place inside of her will break if she tries to speak. So she sets the glass back and lies her head down on the pillow, facing away from Steph and the rest of the room as she tries to reel herself back in.

She can hear Steph taking off her boots and climbing into bed, one arm winding around her waist as she pulls Alex in closer.

"Was it the lady from upstairs?" Steph asks, eventually, after they sit in a few long minutes of silence.

"No." She replies, and it comes out so strangled, so broken, a few more tears run down her face. Steph pulls her even closer, a tight, steady pressure.

"The couple again? I swear to God I'll call the police on that asshole this time."

"No." Alex says, and she detaches herself from Steph just enough so she can turn around and look at her, "I had a dream about Gabe." Simply saying his name makes her whole body shake. Steph is looking at her so intensely, Alex has to close her eyes, holding on to the fabric of her shirt with all she had not to explode in whatever terrifying, dizzying bomb of emotion she could feel brewing inside herself.

Alex felt so much from other people it overwhelmed her multiple times a day, and even then, it was nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to how much sheer strength it took from her not to let it blow.

It scared her. More than anything.

"He wanted to say goodbye." She says eventually, "it was- I don't know. This- I- this isn't coming from anyone- How do I get rid of it? It's like it's all inside of me and it's taking up so much space and I don't know how to fix it" The words come tumbling out before she can stop them, and she's rambling through tears.

Steph sighs. And Alex can feel the love and sadness mixed together, blowing from her in waves as she holds Alex's chin, bringing her up so they can look at each other.

"Baby..." there are tears in her eyes now, as she pulls her closer until their foreheads are touching, and they are so close Alex can smell her lemongrass shampoo, "This is all yours."

And such simple words shouldn't hit her this fucking hard.

But it all suddenly makes so much sense-

Alex was numb after her dad left. She felt nothing for months. It was one of the most terrifying feelings in the world, a deep and powerful depression that threatened to overtake her at any given point.

Like her whole body was nothing but dead weight and her brain was way too tired to even try and keep up.

Young as she was, Alex guesses she never realized the first time she felt anything at all after that was when she discovered her powers. The day a boy came to the orphanage and he was so angry it blew her across the hallway. Ever since then, everything around her was a cacophony of feeling. Coming from every direction. Every street corner, every store, every park.

Every moment of her life since she was eleven, Alex could only feel for others.

"I- I forgot." She realizes, half surprise and half so much sadness another sob breaks through her throat.

Now it made sense, the anger, the sadness, the fear, a hurricane of emotion so very powerful it made her ears ring.

"I'm scared." She admits. Because for someone who had been so focused on learning how to exist among other people's feelings, Alex had no clue how to handle herself, "what do I do with all of this? How do I fix it?"

"Alex. Look at me." Steph brings her face upwards until they are so close, Alex can see the speckles of blue in her eyes, "Gabe died just four months ago, and you were there to see everything- then you got shot and thrown down God knows how many stories into a dark abyss that you somehow walked out of, but not before also finding out about your dad's tragic death - and I haven't seen you cry, actually cry, for yourself, even once."

"I- I can't, it's too much. I don't know how, Steph." Alex had learned her lesson. She'd seen her life as it was and survived it. Deep down she knew it wasn't her responsibility anymore - that it never was her responsibility, to begin with - to hold herself together for others. She knows.

But old habits die hard, and Alex guesses it'll take a while before she starts feeling it too.

Because right now, it still felt like the world might collapse if she wasn't there to hold it together.

"Just- give it to me. Everything you have, I can carry it for you." Steph says, with such determination, Alex actually believes her, but she takes her eyes away, trying to avoid the bubbling of tears threatening to jump out through her throat "Let it go, please, Alex. I can't watch you carry it alone anymore."

At that moment, Alex glances at her again, and there's so much pain, so much love in her eyes, that inside Alex, the dam finally breaks and she's choking on sobs. Tears start running down her cheeks as Steph leans in and pulls her closer, one arm around her shoulder and one on her hip, squeezing tight in reassurance.

If she didn't know better, Alex would've guessed Steph was the one with the superpowers, with the way she coaxes wave after wave of emotion out of her with nothing but her steady presence and quick, light kisses she leaves on Alex's head and hair as she holds on to her shirt for dear life.

It overwhelmed her more than anything she'd experienced so far, and for what feels like hours, she just sobs as Steph holds her.

She cries for her mom. Dead before her time, trying to hold them together to the very end. She cries for her dad, dying a slow death deep underground, a picture of the two children he'd never see again dangling around his neck. She cries for Gabe, for the time they'd never have, for the time they did have.

Above all, for the first time, Alex cried for herself. For being the last out of all of them. For the little girl that had to love and lose every single one of them in succession.

And in the middle of all of it, like a speckle of golden light hidden under all the darkness, for the first time, she feels that it could all start to feel alright.

[wiypt-writes]

Murder, He Wrote

Part 1

Co-written with @southerngracela​

Summary: You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween… When you arrive, you’re actually kind of excited and intrigued…but it isn’t long until that excitement and intrigue give way to fear when you find yourself in a helpless situation.

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this is a collaboration between myself and the wonderful @southerngracela​ for @jtargaryen18 ‘s  Haunted House 2020 challenge…and will be a mini-series, with an as of yet undefined number of chapters.

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"I can't even get in, not even with a press pass, I've been trying for two weeks, Mick!” you looked at him, your mouth slightly open. You’d told him this countless times at morning briefings. You hadn't even heard back from the organizers about sneaking around the press pass issue and offering an exclusive on the joint, a small fact you kept Mick in the dark about.

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

You glared at his retreating form. What the fuck did he not understand about the situation? Mind you, what did he understand about anything? There was a reason everyone working for him called him Mick The Prick.

There was also a reason he was being extra prickish to you. Earlier in the spring time of the year you’d run an article on Ransom Drysdale- the stuck up, trust fund asshole who had literally gotten away with murder. He’d confessed to murdering his grandfather’s house keeper, attempting to murder his grandfather and then, in a violent showdown with 2 police officers and a private detective present, he’d attempted to murder his grandfather’s nurse, Marta. And he would have succeeded, except the knife he’d used had been a stage prop. It was like some fucked up Murder, She Wrote plot, and when you’d interviewed the real life Jessica Fletcher (in this case the rather charming PI named Benoit Blanc who’d been a character to say the least) it got even more confusing. Ransom had hired Blanc in some elaborate scheme to frame Marta for Harlan’s death to do her out of the inheritance via the Slayer Rule. That had back fired spectacularly when she had unwittingly switched back the vials of medication Drysdale had tampered with, meaning Harlan had truly committed suicide. 

The article was supposed to be done showing his side of the story, a way for him to set the record straight, but the more you’d dug and spoken to people surrounding the case, the more you were absolutely convinced of his guilt, not least because he’d been acquitted on the murder and attempted murder charges on technical grounds due to his confession being, allegedly, obtained under duress and without a brief being present. The only thing they’d managed to pin on him was the arson which had burnt the Chief Medical Examiner’s office to the ground, and when his brief had successfully argued mitigating circumstances- he wasn’t of sound mind given the shock surrounding him being cut from his grandfather’s will- he’d basically ended up being released on license.

It was a joke, and that was basically what your article had said. You’d written a scathing attack on how money could basically render you untouchable by the law, highlighting the failures of the Criminal Justice System. At the time, Mick the Prick had been delighted with it, publishing it under your suggested head line “Murder, He Wrote”- ha, go figure, and copies had flown off the shelves, the article online going viral.

And then money had talked once more, and the Drysdale’s had threatened to sue for defamation. That in itself was a joke, as you knew full well his mother, Linda, was only doing it to salvage her own reputation, the same reason she’d worked so hard to find a lawyer to get him off the charges despite the fact she knew full well he was guilty as sin. Mick The Prick had attempted to throw you under the bus spectacularly when the board had come looking for blood, but as editor the buck stopped with him, and he was given a formal warning whilst you were forced to publish a retraction and offer a written apology much to your utter chagrin.

Which was why he was now making your life as hard as possible, and your Investigative Journalism skills, that you’d honed over the last decade; from high school paper, college tribune and now your current employer, over the last 10 years or so since graduation were now being focussed on covering stories about housewives who found Jesus’ face in a slice of toast, or in this case a fucking Celebrity Host Halloween Haunted House review. Whereas you had dominated the first 2 pages once upon a time, you were now lucky if you made it further up than page 11.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

By the end of your day, you were burning what felt like the midnight oil however it wasn't very late at all. Dark had settled in but it wasn't late by time. Just before you were to log off and leave for the night, a TV dinner and pint of mint chip waiting for you in your freezer (and probably a job search too seeing as you would no doubt be fired tomorrow morning for failing on your deadline) your email pinged on your desktop. You frowned at it, wondering who could possibly be emailing you this late but then you recognized the sender.

It was the reply you'd been waiting on from the organizers from the Celebrity Host Haunted House. Clicking the email open, your eyes scanned the message. The organizer was setting you up with a private tour, TONIGHT. "9 pm," you finished reading aloud, relief flooding your entire body. It meant a long assed, sleepless night whilst you wrote your article, but it was better than the looming threat of unemployment. Plus, on the upside, as it was a charity gig the organizer had pulled out the big guns and the blurb on the email told you that it was to feature none other than Lucas Lee, a once-upon-a-time famous A-List Movie star, who was possibly just as arrogant as Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you had to give it to him, in the films you’d seen he was actually damned good, and also pretty hot so…every cloud.

Glancing at your clock, you had just enough time to clock out and grab a quick bite at a drive thru on your way. The location was nearly an hour outside the city so you needed to get gone and fast. A quick reply telling the organizer you were on your way was sent out and you grabbed your coat, pulling it on over your sweater dress and were gone. 

It took a good hour like you'd estimated and that was with stopping for a quick meal, to reach the address your GPS brought you to. It was creepy even at its first glance so you could only hope this payed off. With a quick swig of your watered down and flat fountain drink, you grabbed your bag and phone, exiting your vehicle and locking it shut. The cool night air bit at your exposed cheeks and you were glad you'd worn your coat and tights.

As you stood, gazing at the dilapidated house you shivered, as though, ice had replaced you spine. The walkway leading up to house was cracked, blood red roses grew wildly in thick batches by the gate and the moonlight cast a ghoulish glow on the house. Vines formed a twisted maze upon the side of the of the house's walls which showed the black decay of neglect, in between which splotches of original paint hinted at the house’s former prosperity. Cobwebs covered the corners of the doors, tiny black spiders threading towards their prey and you gave another shudder, as far as first impressions went, yeah, it was fitting for a Halloween Haunted House tour.  

Pulling out your phone, noticing you had no reception (of course you wouldn’t, wasn’t that the cliché?) you took a few photos to use in the article and then gave a little squeak as the door creaked open on its own. Arching your eyebrow slightly, in a manner very much like the man you were here to meet, you strode forward and into the house. Immediately a musty, dank odour crept into your nose. The house was deadly silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans typically associated with a property that age. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling of the tall hallway you stood in and the windows that framed the door on either side were covered with grime and dirt meaning the calm moonlight struggled to penetrate the darkness in thin thread rays, the main source of light being the open doorway. Sharp shadows roamed around the room and as your eyes adjusted to the dim light you noticed that there was a bright white envelope almost perched on the wooden table to the side of the hall. It was the newest thing in the room, so was obviously there for you.

You crossed over, the heels of your suede boots clicking loudly out in the silence of the hallway, and gently reached out for the envelope. A single word- Start- was written on the front in cursive, looping scrawl, very fitting for a spooky note. Another detail you committed to memory for your write up. You slid your finger into the crook of the envelope and slid it open. Inside was a small, white card, containing a message written in the same writing.

To ensure that you don’t become tomorrow’s big news, In this envelope you’ll find the first of 6 clues Of your super sleuth skills you should be proud, So make sure that you read your answers out loud. As one by one they lead to your ultimate demise. Which may or may not be a scary surprise…

Okay, now you were interested. This wasn’t just a walk through some scary assed, supposedly haunted house where Lucas Lee was no doubt set to jump out at you in some ridiculous disguise. This was a scavenger hunt, and your natural inquisitiveness was piqued. 'This could be fun', you thought as you reached for the next card that was in the envelope, reading the first clue. 

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but, not enough to prevent cold

You pondered for a second, heat was leading you to think of a fire, and they certainly grew shorter with time, well eventually when they burnt out…but then again, the longer they went the hotter they got, and they certainly prevented the cold. Scanning the hallway for anything that might fit the description, your eyes flicked up to the ceiling which held an elaborate, but tarnished candelabra style chandelier. And then it hit you. Tall when young, short when old.

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

At that the door leading to the outside slammed shut behind you, and you gave an involuntary scream as the dominant source of light was sealed off. You spun round to look at it, and then your scream turned in to a laugh as you shook your head, for an Investigative Reporter you prided yourselves on steely nerves but so far that was twice this adventure had caught you off guard.

Turning back round, you then spotted that the door at the end of the hall was open, and you could clearly make out a Jack-o-Lantern looking at you, the candle inside flickering. Its face was creepy, really creepy. The nose and eyes were harsh triangles and the grotesque, twisted smile it sported was constructed of sharp, jagged teeth. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You may have had no service, but the flashlight was working. Keeping the light held in front of you so you could watch your step on the cracked tiles of the hall, you made your way towards the lantern and found yourself in a large, run down kitchen. The lantern and your flash-light provided the only light in the room as the windows were all overshadowed by gnarly trees, their branches every so often scratching the glass as they swayed slightly in the wind outside. The only other sound to be heard was the drip, drip of the faucet in the porcelain Belfast sink. 

A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound 

“Oh come on…” you muttered, “That’ ones obvious. Knife, the answer is knife…” You picked up your phone and shone it around the various surfaces of the kitchen and your eyes honed in on a wooden knife block containing a solitary knife. You crossed the room towards it and as you closed in on it, you noticed that the handle of the knife was an ornate silver filigree. It was no ordinary kitchen knife and as you pulled it form the block you realised it was in fact a dagger, antique by the looks of things. The blade was curved slightly, reaching a sharp point, the silver tarnished. But the more you looked at it, the more you suddenly became horribly aware that it wasn’t merely a dullness of colour at all. It was blood. 

“Dramatic…” you mumbled, and with a sigh you then realised there was no clue attached to it. Was this a distraction? A decoy? You were just about to stat ransacking drawers to find the actual knife you needed, when you glanced back at the block the dagger had been held in and noticed a flash of white peeking from underneath. Picking it up and moving it aside you smiled as you saw the same cursive writing, spelling out the word three. Seeing as you might as well play along, you used the dagger to slit the envelope open, tossing it back down on the counter as you read the next clue.

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

You fell silent, your mind racing to how the hell you were going to find a piano in this decrepit and yet enormous house. Then, your ears heard it. The subtle note from deep inside the house. It was a single key. But now that wasn't your concern, no, it wasn't the mice or the bugs or even the brown water. Your heart raced at the notion that someone was in fact in the house with you. 

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Step by step you followed the note that chimed every few steps and you found yourself beginning to wonder if it was a recording or if someone were really playing it, timing their play with the sound of your boots over the rotting floor. You wound your way through the narrow hall, ancient wall paper peeling from its tack, mastick and plaster falling away to reveal studs in places. 

Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room.

The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the  gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host. 

“Get a grip Y/N” you mumbled to yourself. You were surprised to find just how much this place was starting to set your nerves on edge. You took a deep breath, the pounding of blood in your ears began to quiet and you took a look around the room. There was no one in there with you, you were alone.

With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream. 

Not for the first time, you had to admire the effort Lucas was going to here. It was clear he had a flare for the dramatic, anyone could see that from his films and interviews but this was pretty damned good. It was making you wonder how he was doing it. Was he somewhere watching, pressing buttons to enact the various parts of his show? Instinctively you glanced up, looking for a camera or something you were being monitored by but you found no evidence of anything. 

“Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat.

“Window. It’s a window.”

Usually, at that point, something happened to point your attention to the place you should be looking but this time, there was nothing. Instinctively you looked out of the one on the wall by the piano, but as you stared at nothing but the darkness outside you realised that was too obvious. Just then your ears picked up a sound you couldn’t quite figure out, but it was familiar all the same. And then it came to you, it was the familiar click and clack of a skateboard, the wheels gliding over the brittle old floor and you span round in the direction it was coming from to see a window you hadn’t noticed before, this one was an ornate, stained glass window which bore some kind of flower design that faced directly out into the hall. 

He passed by slower than a flash but just enough to allow you to catch only a glimpse. You audibly gasped, your breath coming in a sharp intake of fright, because until then you had been alone on this chase. But it appeared you dramatic host had finally come out to play. He was merely a shadow, bulky in frame, tall and dressed all in black as he moved past but it was enough to puzzle you. You didn’t remember Lucas being that broad, or tall. With a frown you ran into the hall to catch him but saw nothing, and heard nothing, the only thing to indicate he had been there was a faint smell of the cedar and amber of what you assumed to be cologne. 

You paced quickly down the hall in the direction the figure had gone but as you passed the stairwell the light flickered on, instantly attracting your attention. You’d only briefly noticed the ornate staircase before, but with the lack of light you certainly hadn’t noticed the writing on the wall, dripping in fresh paint. Swallowing, as you mouth suddenly felt dry with fear you stepped onto the first stair, and as soon as you did you were plunged into almost complete black. Letting out a shriek as, once again, he’d managed to get the drop on you, you shook your head and reached for your phone, taking another few steps up so you were level with the next clue which you read aloud.

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize.” You bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination. 

Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Alongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background.  And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby. 

You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway. 

This room was a little lighter thanks to a lamp which stood on a nightstand. It wasn’t bright, by any means, but it was enough so that you could clearly see the bed in the middle of the room. And there, placed by the pillows was a thin box. On unsteady legs, you shuffled slowly towards the bed, the box before you making you quiver, your insides churning. A shaky hand tilted the lid open slowly, afraid something would pounce in a sneak attack. You shut your eyes ready to protect them in case a bat or bugs flew at you and when nothing happened, you opened them slowly and inspected the boxes contents. There was no envelope this time, just copy of a newspaper. Your newspaper. And you felt your blood run cold as you recognise the bold headline across the top. Murder, He Wrote: A twisted tale of Inheritance, Crime and Exoneration "Drysdale," you whispered in realization. But now, while you were well aware of what the article meant and who it was referring to, your brain shut down processing how on earth Lucas Lee and Ransom could possibly be connected. Your breathing deepened and you moved to pick up the article, but then the lid to the box caught your eye and you froze, for on the inside of the lid was another clue, only this one was a straight forward question which was spelled out using cut-out letters from the newspaper in question.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath. And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.  

*****

When Y/N went limp in his arms, Ransom laid her across the bed only leaving the room to hurriedly cover his tracks, blowing out candles and removing any trace of her that had been in the house. His time as his grandfather's research assistant gave him far more experience than it should have. When he returned to the bedroom she was still out cold but light as a feather as he carried her downstairs and out the back door to the awaiting SUV, smug that his plan had gone so well.

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

He drove away from the scene of his new crime towards the city, driving through the dead of night, on the beltway, and continued twenty minutes outside downtown Boston before pulling into the garage of a large red cedar and quartzite home. He killed the engine and closed the garage door, pulling Y/N from the seat she was slumped in when it was clear to do so.

He couldn't be seen, he wouldn't be seen. He carried her inside the spacious home, his boots tapping heavily against the dark marble floor of the kitchen and finally the lush carpeted staircase that wound down into the basement.

This is where he laid her, in the basement, on a bed, but not just any bed, the one that would now become hers. He adjusted the lighting in the space, low enough not to disturb her, but bright enough to give the room a glow so he could finish what he'd set out to do. In the shock of the struggle in the bedroom, she’d dropped her phone and he’d made sure to smash it long before he left the haunted house, making sure there'd be no device to track her. He'd already disposed of her car while she was playing his little game, every loose end as far as he could see was tied up.

And now she was all his. 

He brushed the hair away from Y/N’s face where it had fallen over her eyes.  With gloved hands he manoeuvred her undone, black woollen coat off her body, leaving her in the bottle green turtle neck sweater dress and thick tights she was wearing before he tossed it over the chair in the corner of the room and then undid the zips on her brown suede knee high boots. He dropped them to the floor, kicking them towards the same corner with the equal carelessness he’d shown her coat. With a final meticulous movement he rearranged her on the bed, so he’d appear more comfortable and just before he left the room, he wrapped the cool, metallic cuff around the ankle. It locked in place with a clink and with a final glance at her still unconscious form, he turned and exited the room, the door latching shut and with the snap of the deadbolt he locked her in.

*****

Your head pounded, your nose burned and your mouth felt dry with the faintest taste of something foul lingering as you swallowed. The light was low but still your eyes ached. You tried to decipher exactly what the hell had happened to you while you got your bearings. You tried to sit up but your body felt heavy, the soft bed you now realized you were lying on was not your own. Your breathing rapidly increased as you started to move in fear but a clink caused a screech to escape your throat. You felt the weight of the cuff around your ankle and a full panic set it.

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

You remembered getting the email from the Haunted Mansion supposedly hosted by Lucas Lee. You had arrived and were sent on what you thought was a fun and exhilarating maze littered with clues and riddles and then you remembered the last piece of the puzzle. You gasped as you remembered how his breath felt hot on your skin and how his voice registered in your mind.

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!" 

The door to your room, now coming into focus around you, flew open and there he stood, smug smirk, raging ocean blue eyes, hair neatly in place, dismantling frame clothed in a black sweater and dark denim, heavy footfalls sounding against the thick carpet under his feet. 

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away. 

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask. 

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"I...I'm not, don't call me that," you spat defiantly as he moved closer, taking you in, his predatory eyes moving over your body. This was it, you were going to die all because some trust fund prick was a hurt baby about an article (that you forcibly apologized for) revealing the sick and sadistic truth about him, his family, money and the justice system. 

"Are you gonna kill me?” You watched him carefully as he crossed the room towards you, trying to keep your voice calm so as not to betray the utter fear that was coursing through your veins at the fact you were trapped, fuck knows where, shackled to a bed with a murderer being your captor. “That's what this is about, right? My apology wasn't enough?"

"Your apology was forced bullshit.” He responded, his voice carried a hint of amusement, because of course, this was all a game to him. “You smeared my name, dragged my reputation though the mud and you expected an apology like that, half assed and full of more crap than your original hatchet piece, to be enough?" He was standing damn near over you now, a hand moving up your leg that was held by the cuff, your body frozen in a confused silent argument of fight or flight.

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

"No. I. Didn't." He lied and you had to hand it to him, a lesser person might have bought the garbage he was talking, because he was good at it. Lying must have been enough of a second nature for him that he actually believed everything he said himself. But then again, it wasn't actually a lie was it? Sure, he'd planned on indirectly killing Harlan and that plan had backfired and Harlan had actually slit his own throat. So at most he was indirectly responsible for his death, but none of that had stuck with the prosecution and so now here he was, a free man.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked. 

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow. 

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

"Try me, you son of a...." You didn't expect his lips to cover yours but they did. Unexpectedly warm and soft, despite the painfully harsh kiss. You managed to pull away but his hand still gripped at your throat and you felt the fear constricting your chest. But you were damned if you were going to show him a shred of weakness.

“You’re an asshole, Hugh…” It was all you had, the only thing you could use in your arsenal given your situation. You still had your voice. And you’d noticed that for whatever reason he appeared to hate that name.

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

“Or what? You'll kill me?” your voice rose in both volume and pitch as your desperation began to show. “We both know you're gonna do that once you've fulfilled whatever sick, twisted little fantasy this is. What are you waiting for, Hugh? Huh?”

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

You stayed stock still as large and surprisingly gentle hands trailed your curves up the outside of your thighs to your hips. As he reached the hem of your sweater dress he paused as you wrapped your hands around his wrists.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“This will be much easier if you just play-along, sweetheart” he muttered as he pressed his lips to your neck. You let go of his wrists and raised your hands, laying them over the wool of his cable knit, palms flat against the plain of muscle as you attempted to push him off.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand. His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.” He ground out, his lips inches from your ear as he nipped at your skin. He was impressively strong and balanced, his weight even through his body as he kept his knees between your legs, a hand against your breast and the other stroking your sides and up your thigh. All the while, his lips sucked at your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point as you turned your head away, tears filling your eyes

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

“I told you not to call me that.” He growled against your skin and pulled back, his eyes blazing as they locked on to yours. In sheer desperation, you managed to wrench a free hand from between you and gave him a slap, nails biting at his skin. Instantly you knew you’d pissed him off. His nostrils flared, his jaw set and as his eyes filled with fire and rage.

And you knew then, you were in for it.

“Bitch…” he snarled as he raised his left hand to his face where you had struck him, and then both his hands grabbed yours, yanking your arms up, pinning them above your head. You bucked upwards, violently in an attempt to shake him off, but it was futile. He was far too strong. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and despite yourself you let out a small whimper of fear.

In one hand he had the ability to cuff both of your wrists and he did so while his other grabbed at your dress, shoving it further up your body, fingers curling over the waist of your tights and panties, a handful of the material fisted in his palm. They wouldn't slide down quick enough and you felt your body lift away from the mattress slightly as he ripped away the material, the snap burning your skin. You fought, boy did you fight. You had no control of your hands or arms as he had them easily pinned, but your legs and the rest of your body gave as good as they could. You thrashed from side to side all the time screaming your objections. You drew your knees up to your chest in an attempt to buck him off. You screamed protests, threw every insult you had at him, but it was no use. He was simply too strong.

He didn't even bother with his belt or button, he just unzipped the flies on his jeans, pulled his solid cock free and slid in. You were wetter than you expected to be, but it still burned with friction and ached from the thick stretch against your tight walls. It hurt, definitely hurt.

"You know you want this. I know you want this." He rasped as he pulled out before thrusting back in, his face twisted in a look that was halfway between being smug and satisfied. Just looking at him made you feel sick but for some reason you were unable to look away as he continued his slow assault, before he picked up the pace slightly, his groans of satisfaction filling the room as he bottomed out, balls deep and it was at that point you closed your eyes and tried to block out what he was doing to you. But try as you might to remain mentally detached from the situation, your body was anything but. And the more he moved in and out of you, the more you could feel your physical reactions. You were powerless to stop them and the heat between your legs and in between your belly was spiking with each thrust into you.

It felt good. And you knew it shouldn’t. So you fought it, but eventually, you couldn't fight it anymore, not with  the way his thick cock filled you, velvety smooth skin sliding in and out of your defiant core. You didn't want to cum, but your body told your brain it was going to and Ransom nearly puffed his chest as he fucked you into your body's submission. 

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you, Sweetheart? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

“Fuck, yeah…see…” Ransom’s hips began to move faster, and then with a sudden movement he pulled out of you, making you wince involuntarily at the sting. He shot his load all over your thighs, a growl bubbling from his throat, the warmth of his release trickling down your leg made you feel even more dirty than you already did. 

“Not so fucking smart are we now, huh, miss Investigative Reporter…” his snap was snide, and childish, but you knew he couldn’t help himself. Your head remained defiantly in its position on the pillow, turned to the right, eyes focussed on a spot on the wall. “Look at me, bitch.”

When you didn’t do as he asked, he grabbed your chin bruisingly, making you wince as he pulled your face round so he could see you. You knew he would be able to see the tears on your face, and you hated that. Hated that he would see how much he’d hurt you, scared you even, 

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat.

"That's all you got? You're a fucking child, Drysdale. It's why you’re doing this." You said, your voice trembling and croaking from the fear and exertion of what he had just put you through and you shook your head. “You’re a fucking man child with mommy and daddy issues. A spoilt, little whiney brat who can’t bear to be told no.”

That struck a nerve, you could tell, as his jaw clenched tight and his fists clenched around the sheets by your side to the point they were shaking. He grabbed your chin once more with his right hand and pinned your face still, forcing your eyes to look back at his 

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

As you looked at him, you felt your anger starting to simmer. This fucking ass hole had just raped you, and he had the gall to be saying you were going to tell him that you were sorry. No chance in hell. You knew you were screwed, literally and figuratively. Whilst he had you captive behind a bolted door, shackled to a bed you had nowhere to go, he knew that you knew that too and you could see it in his face as a smug smirk flickered on his lips. Well fuck this, if you were going down it was with a fight. With a sudden movement, that caught him off guard you moved your head slightly as much as you could in his painful grip, and spat right in his face.

Ransom blinked, his anger morphing to shock, then back to fury once more as he released your face and with a flash of his hand he back handed you straight across the face. The blow to your right cheek snapped your head to the left, sucking the breath from your lungs and leaving you a little dazed.

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

***** Ransom stormed up the steps to the kitchen of the house, slamming the top door behind him and bolting that one shut too. He was furious that little bitch had scratched him and no doubt marked his face. He strode over the marble tiles of the room and walked into the large hallway and across into the den. He made his way straight to the bar, poured himself a healthy measure of good scotch, slopping a little on the dark wooden counter, before he glanced up at the large mirrored surface of the bar behind the shelves.

He could make out three vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby. 

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end. 

The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his. 

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought. 

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** Part 2

[spacejellyfish3]

the utena show’s ending is extremely powerful on its own yes but utena’s final apology? to anthy of not being able to be her prince in the end never stuck right with me. and I think that’s cause in a sense it’s still centering the prince as important, as aspirational, that maybe it could have been a better ending for them—that utena could’ve survived if she were her prince. and of course I might be reaching with that possibly probably but I still wanted to air that opinion out (maybe someone else has similar misgivings as I do and can expand on it so there).

but the real problem for me is that show anthy still very much places utena as a savior figure, as her “prince”. while I live for anthy’s savage verbal takedown of akio as a powerless coward trapped in a Sisyphean game of pretend for all eternity but even so she herself is still shown to subscribe to the dogma of the heroic prince. even visually anthy’s idealization of utena is displayed with her dressed in pink. this visual marker is carried over into the movie with anthy’s bridal gown changing from red (which makes sense since anthy is indian coded and an indian bride’s sari is traditionally red) to white and pink, connoting her as utena’s princess.

movie anthy’s placement of utena onto a pedestal of princehood also often extends beyond subtext and into the text itself, a key example being the scene right before utena’s famed car wash makeover where anthy says “you’re the prince of the academy now, every miracle and all eternity is yours…so long as you stay in this world.” anthy believes that you can only exercise power, have power, be happy, be free within the system, and it’s important to note that there is very much truth in that notion but this power I’m referring to is that of self actualization, the power of maturity. yet…utena rejects that noise, she says no, she says fuck that let’s go be free in the outside world.

if the show is about breaking away from the confines of abuse, then the movie is about breaking away from the confines of trauma. it’s extremely powerful when anthy takes the steps out of ohtori; it’s hard even just to find the strength to leave an abusive situation let alone actively do it. but the pain remains, trauma doesn’t disappear it’s haunting it’s ghostly sometimes literally manifesting. both movie utena and anthy are hounded and bound to apparitions they’ve forgotten are actually dead.

touga died years ago sacrificing himself for nothing in the end and became princely an ideal to strive for and utena has to come to grips with that and she basically says no you don’t control me my grief my trauma does not control me thank you for being my prince but I can’t be a prince I don’t want to be it’s not real

anthy is real

I am real

akio is abuse he is torment and toxicity he is anthy’s monster, maybe a monster that she created once upon a time but he chose to perpetuate his monstrosity. and when confronted with his actions he couldn’t face it he hurt her more made it her fault for the hurt he caused her and he died he’s dead he’s gone but he remains in the ground anthy buried him beneath the roses. the rose garden is a prison she is the only one held captive by the roses and it grows up up high up but it’s still there the roses remain he’s still there in her mind and he’ll never leave but he’s not in control. he’s dead, he’s been dead for so long he remains but he’s not real and he’s no prince because the prince was a lie that never existed it’s not real

utena is real

I am real

and they blaze past everything. there are obstacles but there are friends too who aren’t there yet but they’re on the path they’re trying they’re growing they have high goals they want to reach and someday they will but you can now. it’s anthy’s story it’s anthy journey and it’s hard of course it’s hard

but they break free. they break the castle so huge so big so impossible but it wasn’t real

it’s just rose petals flying in the wind

akio doesn’t control her and though it might be so that she and utena can’t make it outside, that they have to continue as princesses stuck in the role that people give them but they don’t have power over them, they’re free and no longer draped in any costume or performance, they’re truth out of her well to shame mankind and that’s fucking awesome. they might not make it, they might fail like the broken down husks of those who came before them, but they can try they’re free to try. they have the power to try. to revolutionize the world. to revolutionize their world.

“the outside world has no roads, but you can always build new roads.”

I binged the entire series and the movie last year around March maybe, sometime right before quarantine…and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, analyzing it, since. I’m pretty sure it radicalized me and honestly I’m glad it did. revolutionary girl utena speaks truth to power and exists as a creative work in a way that I don’t think anything else has or will. it’s fundamentally itself but simultaneously thrives on external interpretation. it’s both an enigma wrapped in a mystery and as obvious and unsubtle as a trainwreck. above is my favorite quote of the entire franchise because it’s so simple but so profound—you could say it’s my equivalent of “what is grief if not love persevering”.

there are no roads to follow, but you’re open to build your own path your own way. no one defines you but you and that’s simple that’s kinda naive but what’s wrong with that. I’m not sure who originally said this or stated this proverb or whatever, I know I read it somewhere but I’m not sure where, and I’m definitely paraphrasing but

adults are so quick to say the world is unfair and be done with it, but a child would look at that and say: why not make it fair? that’s really simple and it’s innocent of course but it’s still true. why can’t we make things fair, because we definitely could it’s not impossible.

I’m not sure how to end this post—I definitely should cause it’s plenty long already—but rgu is highly foundational to me on a visceral level. it’s helped me in ways shifted me in ways I can’t describe and I can’t really imagine myself now existing without its influence. the best way I could describe its impact its power its importance really boils down to

the outside world has no roads, but you can always build new roads.

words to live by.