#also let it be known i know the part of funerals is also sharing stories and everything but i cannot speak to people

[jackalhadrurusluvr]

the pros of going to my grandmothers funeral/celebration of life tomorrow: closure or whatever. i dont really know ive only been to two funerals in my whole life and i dont fully get what im suppsed to feel and do there

the cons: i dont talk to literally anyone on my moms side of the family. i could follow my brother around but he's gonna be mostly around my mom, who i do not talk to for a thousand reasons. and my ex-neighbors who are very openly transphobic to me will be around her. and no one on her side of the family really Gets that im trans either so like it just all sucks. i will surely get emotional because y'know, and that means that i will be emotional in front of my mom, which is bad for me. all my cousins are weird around me because we were close as kids but now no one knows how to approach me because ive only gotten more awkward and more unable to verbally speak

[gothamhappiness]

Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey - Reader's origin story

When I started this new Batman obsession, I soooo needed to get this out of my system, so I wrote and wrote and wrote. I figured I could share this with you.

I start with reader's origin story because some stuff will be hinted througout the series (10 parts so far) and because it explains some of her reactions.

Just so you know, it's afab!reader, but there is absolutely NO description of her, and nothing in her backstory says she is white. But as a white girl myself, if I missed something, PLEASE LET ME KNOW and send me a DM. I really want you all to enjoy some Bruce Wayne x reader, no matter who you are or what you look like!!

That being said, enjoy <3

Warnings: no proof reading, awful childhood with toxic parents, mentions of death and violence, reader has a negative image of Batman

You were coming from the poorest neighbourhood of Gotham. The most dangerous one as well: the Narrows.

You had been lucky to climb the social ladder thanks to your grandma who loved you more than anything and absolutely wanted you to study abroad. She wanted better for you. She wanted you to meet your true potential. She always said that if she - as well as your mother - had been a little more educated, they would have been women of power. And more importantly, they would have been women of freedom. By now, it was too late for her and for her daughter, but it was not too late for you. She decided to sacrifice everything she had to give you what the women of the family never had before.

By allowing you to get an education, she also saved you from a very dark family. She saved you from your father, who used to be a gangster closely working with Don Falcone and to be friends with Victor Zsasz. Your father ended in jail before dying there. 

It was what people said at least. 

Your mother didn’t know if he had been killed there or if he killed himself. Either way, she was relieved this monster was now gone from her existence. But you knew the truth: you were 16 when this happened, and you had known your father very well. You had followed him for all those years, like his shadow. He used you as a right hand because you were his favourite kid. It meant you knew Don Falcone personally. So when your father “died”, you knew better than to believe it. You went to the Roman, and you asked him to open the coffin after the funeral, just to make sure if all of this was true or not. You weren’t too surprised when you found rocks instead of a body. Don Falcone offered to work for him because you had potential indeed.

But you declined when your grandmother insisted for you to get an education. You had been at a crossroad: you could have started the life of a gangster or you could have been something else. Still now, you wondered what gave you the strength to be something else.

About your father, you never heard about him so far, and you were grateful about it. You had realised as you grew up that he was using you because you were a smart and silent kid. You knew how to behave with dangerous people: you never let anyone or anything intimidate you. When you weren’t with your father, you were reading books, so you quickly learnt to have a way with words and to read people as well. 

You guessed it was still useful now, and you hated it that it was all thanks to your father. At least, your grandma offered you another life, and you would forever be grateful for that. You couldn’t blame your own mother who never loved you - you looked way too much like your father. She was a mess who ran away when your father disappeared, so you really only had your grandma left to take care of you.

You went aboard. You went to England and you studied. You studied hard to the point of becoming a top student in college and then in university.

You understood what it was to be free indeed. You enjoyed your life away from Gotham, and you weren’t too sure if you would ever go back there.

However, after your graduation, your grandma’s health started to go down. Your mother didn’t want to go back to Gotham to take care of her, and your grandma didn’t want to leave Gotham because it had been her home her whole life. She also strongly believed that if people like Batman were fighting for the city, she couldn’t go away and seem ungrateful. You tried to convince her that Batman probably didn’t care, but she was stubborn.

At that time, Batman was so young and so fresh. People didn’t know if they should like him or not. You didn’t particularly like him. You weren’t too sure to understand why he was doing what he was doing. Most importantly, you felt like he was taking care of the big villains and letting most of the population of Gotham alone. The man clearly didn’t come from the Narrows and he couldn’t understand that if more than half of the neighbourhood population was working for the big villains as goons was because they didn’t have any other choice. You heard about his “gadgets” and you thought that all this money could have bought a school in the Narrows. Or a hospital. Or anything else useful.

Sometimes, you felt like you were being a little bit harsh on the Bat; at least someone fought against Don Falcone. You knew what the Roman was capable of, and yeah, maybe Batman was better than you wanted to admit it.

You ended up coming back to Gotham so you could take care of your grandma. She loved you even more for that, even if she didn’t want you to ruin your career for her. You easily found a job and slowly but surely went higher in society. You were good with words. You were good at getting people to do what you wanted, and more importantly, you were good at getting people to tell you their darkest secrets. You were doing well. You were happy to be back in Gotham, actually. It was your home too.

Years went by, and new vigilantes arrived, disappeared, and came back. Only Batman was always there. You still weren’t a big fan of him, even if you could admit he was clearly doing his best for the city. You preferred the new guy in town, though: Red Hood. He was taking care of things, and he also had the reputation to protect the kids and the civilians.

Your grandma was very excited when she learnt you were both living in his “territory”. You actually met him one night. He seemed to be looking around. When he spotted you, he walked to you.

“Hello, ma'am. Is everything alright? Do you need someone to get you home safely? This isn’t a very safe place right now. An asshole hid bombs everywhere around here.” he had told you, and you were a little bit surprised after everything you heard about him.

He was known to be a Crime Lord and to be some sort of enemy to Batman, but not really one either.

“I have lived here since forever. I’m all good, thank you” you replied with a smile “Thank you for being around” you said

“Oh well, you really shouldn’t thank me.” he hummed, clearly taken aback. 

He wasn’t used to people thanking him for anything

“On the contrary, finally, someone is doing something. Not like Batman. Hope you’ll stick around” you added

“Ok, let me bring you to your building, at least.” Red Hood insisted, and you agreed. 

You didn’t know why, but you felt you could trust him.

You weren’t an investigative journalist at that time, but later, you would write in favour of Red Hood… and quite in disfavour of Wayne Enterprises and his CEO.

When your grandma died, you took care of her funeral and of her flat, on your own. You gave the key back to find your own place. It was smaller, but at least you weren’t in the Narrows anymore. You stayed close to Red Hood’s territory, though. You never thought about leaving Gotham again, even if the Daily Planet offered you a job in Metropolis. You needed to stay in Gotham. She was your home, and you wanted to fight for her.

Another decade went by and even if you did good - everyone was reading your articles and knowing your name (without knowing your face) - you clearly had never thought you would go to one of those charity galas hosted by the popular Bruce Wayne.

You were currently writing for an independent and political newspaper of Gotham. Bruce Wayne was often criticised in it, which was one of the only media to do so. Bruce Wayne had offered someone to come over so they could see he had nothing to hide and that his charity galas had real purposes.

You had been chosen among the journalists because they knew you wouldn’t be naïve enough to believe everything the man would tell you.

You had no idea this gala would change your life.

And Bruce’s as well.

--

PART 1

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

can we talk about how much of a genuine coward spy is when it came to scouts death in the comics? He couldnt bring himself to tell scout the truth, so he "had someone else" do it for him by disguising as tom jones and THEN telling scout.

Sure, maybe he doesnt want Scout to jate him, but still. The rest of the team knows. He probably had to BRIBE them to keep their yaps shut.

Which got me thinkin of a little story. The guilt of both leaving scout and failing to admit the truth to scout is eating spy from the inside out, yet hes been trained and taught not to feel any emotions outwardly, so he doesnt express anything towards it.

But here's the catch: his body is literally being eaten alive inside by the "guilt". AKA, it's just failing on him.

It starts small, with the occassional smoker's cough, until blood starts to come up with the coughing. Its not mucj at first, just some specks, but it gets more intense as time continues until hes coughing out nothing but blood.

medics unable to identify whats wrong. Spy doesnt know what to do. he doesnt know why its happening. he has to get off the battlefield because its gotten so bad.

his teammates are concerned. spy brushes their concern off, saying that he'll be alright in a few days or so.

he was wrong. a few days later hes practically DYING. medic tells him that je cant do anything for spy, and that even if he brings spy back, itll just keep happening. spy finally asks medic to do him a final favour: Tell Scout the truth once spy's dead. Tell everyone to act like they hadn't known, so it seems like scout wasnt left in the dark about it. Medic agrees, sad that it had come to this and feeling like a bad doctor for letting his teammate down. Medic brings the news to everyone but scout and relays spys final request to them. They agree to pretend they hadnt known, including miss pauling, since she was there.

Spy dies a couple days later. Medic tells everyone at breakfast time that spy had passed overnight. Everyones saddened and stunned. Medic then relays spy's request to tell the truth.

Scout's devasted. Absolutely crushed. He wasnt a fan of spy, sure, but now knowing that spy was his dad, he doesnt know what to feel.

The mercs hold a makeshift funeral for spy, and scout doesnt attend. he cant bring himself to. He's upset, both bevause he wasnt told and because he'd never get to make up lost time with his father.

Anon you're killing me.

Uh, this was so good!

But dare I say on the Spy being a coward part, I actually look at that scene as Spy realizing that telling Scout now, while he's dying, won't provide him any comfort, it'll just make his death about Spy in a sence. So he turns into Tom Jones, knowing that's the thing that will provide Scout with the most comfort in his final moments. He also knows that his true feelings about Scout will mean more from Tom Jones than Spy. I mean, if you look at how happy Scout looks at being told that, Spy knows that if he would have been the one to say it, he would have killed the peaceful death that Scout deserved. (But I saw a theory once that claims that Scout knew that Spy was Tom Jones in this situation, and he just played along)

Also! I honestly don't think the other mercs would have to be bribed not to talk about it. They just wouldn't say anything, knowing that its a moment Spy and Scout need to share. That's why when Scout was dying Sniper only said

"Mate." And nothing more. He knew, and I highly doubt Sniper was taking money from Spy to keep keep secret hidden.

But anyway! This was really good. Thank you for sending this Anon!

[hellbentrapture]

Gone

I did not think my first eulogy would be for my best friend. I did not think we would not grow old together, geriatrics doing movie nights. I did not think I would not always be cooking and sharing meals with him, so candid and excited about each one. I did not think he would let go. I did not think he would not be there. Ever. Again.

CW/TW: suicide, grief, loss, depression, mental illness, abusive and manipulative family, funeral arrangements, C-PTSD/PTSD, OCD.

My best friend committed suicide on February the 7th of this year (2024), I learned about it on the 10th after myself and my other best friend filed a missing persons report for him on the 9th. He had been struggling only a few days prior with an episode that involved C-PTSD and a flashback - I cannot divulge more than this, only that it was so complicated and there is so much more to it. He did go to the hospital, on Sunday the 4th. He did spend the night. He went home Monday the 5th.

Myself, he, and my other best friend had a group call. We talked for awhile and he was genuinely hopeful for the future. He had plans, he was talking to people, he was reaching out.

Wednesday the 7th was the last time anyone heard from him - it was me and my other best friend, at 10am. We were told he likely died around 4:30pm/5pm. A matter of hours, lessened when you account for him writing the letter and travelling. We were informed it was a train. I will never look at trains the same ever again, I do not know when I will be able to truly look at them yet...

The space between the 7th and the 10th is because he was unidentified, and was only discovered and connections made because I insisted we check on him. I insisted we make calls on Friday, we go to his apartment, we involve local health, we involve the police. Had we not filed that missings, who knows how long it would have been.

Worse yet, his abusive and estranged mother is his legal next of kin. So she gets to make all the calls on his arrangements and care. He had technically cut off his sister 8 months ago, but she is our only ally and is the far far lesser of the two evils. Working with her has not been as bad as it could be - without her, my other best friend and I would have no power nor legal recourse anywhere.

Before his mother intervened, we had picked a lovely funeral home to have him cremated at, that even said they could arrange a viewing for us. Instead, he will be going to literally the cheapest crematorium in the city (that actually advertises as such) and does not do viewings. His mother has been withholding what belongings she has gotten and has threatened to withhold all of his ashes if his sister does not see her for them. His mother, and her partner, have also threatened to keep the ashes out of spite. Luckily, the crematorium has promised us half the ashes that we can pick up separately.

I am trying not to fret that She will intervene once more...

I have not been fully processing or feeling it all yet - I don't think I will be able to until we are done planning the official service (that anyone who knew him is welcome to) and the wake (the tight circle). So a big part of me feels like I am in wait mode still.

But I do feel it every now and then, the deep cavernous sadness. The utter despair. The loss. The denial. The anger. Grief. More grief.

I loved him so very much. We were two struggling souls caught in a ruthless and relentless storm, gripping each other's hands, terrified but knowing we could make it together. I had so many visions of my future, and he was always going to be there with us.

In the end, as he told me in his letter, it was the OCD. I am angry that he gave into the impulse to find only the worst stories of OCD, where he believes those to be the all. I am deeply hurt, wishing I had known it felt so bad for him. And I am mortally terrified, for I did not know OCD could take you down like that - and I have OCD.

And you know what this all needs? Therapy. Do you know what I cannot access? Therapy.

I am so lucky and thankful for the Tight Circle I still have, we are supporting each other so much right now and I am so glad for it. I know I have others. I know this awful, awful pain will pass eventually, with time.

Time...

[xomaleyaxo]

R2 → SOLO ALBUM

Name: Catharsis

Meaning: The process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions.

Released: March 20th, 2024 (Also known as International day of Happiness)

Message for Fans:

"To my beloved fans, who have stood by me through every twist and turn, I dedicate this album to you. My hope is that, together, we can release the grip of past hurts and shed the weight of our shared experiences. May this catharsis be the beginning of a more beautiful chapter in all our lives. Thank you for being my constant companions on this incredible journey."

Track list + Meaning's behind songs:

*I have changed some of the lyrics to fit my OC and her story*

1- R.I.P 2 My Youth

"R.I.P. to my youth, And you could call this the funeral, I'm just telling the truth, yeah You can play this at my funeral, Tell my sister don't cry and don't be sad, I'm in paradise with dad, Close my eyes and then cross my arms, Put me in the dirt, let me dream with the stars"

This song was written in 2018 when Mirae was experiencing a challenging period, dealing with criticism from various corners of the internet and sensing that she had matured too quickly. The lyrics explored themes of growing up, confronting challenges, and reflecting on the inevitable changes that accompany the passage of time. In an interview discussing the song, she expressed how it served as the best outlet for her to escape those emotions, allowing her to pour her feelings into the music.

2- Making The Bed

"And I tell someone I love them just as a distraction, They tell me that they love me like I'm some tourist attraction, They're changin' my machinery and I just let it happen, I got the things I wanted, it's just not what I imagined"

This song was written in 2019 during a period of heightened success for Blackpink, where they were becoming more recognized and well-known. Mirae, amidst reaching new career heights, found herself feeling trapped. Despite achieving professional success, her personal life was at its lowest point. Amid all the attention, she experienced a profound sense of loneliness, realizing that despite being surrounded by people, no one truly understood her.

3- Idontwannabeyouanymore

"If "I love you" was a promise Would you break it, if you're honest? Tell the mirror what you know she's heard before I-I don't wanna be you, I don't wanna be you I don't wanna be you, anymore"

Originally written in 2015 when she was giving her all to pursue her dream and finally debut, but the challenges of being away from home for extended periods and enduring countless long days were taking a toll on her. Sick and tired of embodying this version of herself, she wrote these lyrics in her journal. She rediscovered them in 2017 and completed the song that day, feeling immensely proud as her emotions were raw and deeply emotional.

4- The Last Time ft. TAEYANG

"This is the last time I'm asking you this, Put my name at the top of your list, This is the last time I'm asking you why, You break my heart in the blink of an eye, eye, eye"

In 2021, she composed this song upon hearing about her sister's relationship struggles and the immense effort she was putting into making it work with her boyfriend. Initially, she shared the song with her sister but decided against releasing it as it felt like it was missing something. Then, when Youngbae approached her for a collaboration, she brought up this song, and he loved it. They ended up recording for it that night after rewriting some parts and she couldn't be more proud of the outcome.

5- The Other Side

"We are buried in broken dreams, We are knee-deep without a plea, I don't want to know what it's like to live without you, Don't want to know the other side of a world without you"

Written in 2019 after Hanbin ended their relationship due to his scandal, she poured her heartbreak onto the pages of her journal as a way of releasing her emotions. Hanbin, her first love and long-time friend, had become an integral part of her life, and the prospect of living without him left her feeling lost and hurt. Despite her desire to stand by him and offer support during his challenging times, he had cut her off completely, leaving her scared about facing life without him. Initially hesitant due to the rawness of the emotions, she ultimately decided to include the song in the album as a way of sharing her genuine self with her fans.

6- The one

"But we were something, don't you think so? Early 20s, tossing pennies in the pool, And if my wishes came true, It would've been you, In my defense, I have none, For never leaving well enough alone, But it would've been fun, If you would've been the one"

Written in 2021 after she had finally felt fully moved on from Hanbin and looked back on the relationship in a more positive light. Despite their bad ending, she was grateful to have experienced a good first love and was thankful for all he taught her. Despite moving on from the relationship, she still did feel that if it had all worked out and the scandal hadn't happen, they still would have probably been together and he would have been the one.

7- Just Like Magic

"Good karma, my aesthetic (my aesthetic) Keep my conscience clear, that's why I'm so magnetic Manifest it (ooh), I finessed it (ooh) Take my pen and write some letters to heaven"

Written in 2020 during a moment of reflection, she wrote this song to focus on finding the good in each day. The lyrics delve into the concept of manifestation, expressing her desire to prioritize self-focus. Rather than dwelling on negativity, she wishes to spread love and light to other around her. The line "Writing letters to heaven" was included by her as a remembrance of her father. It symbolizes her belief that he is always by her side, ready to assist in making her manifestations come true.

8- Dancing With Our Hands Tied

"I, I loved you in secret, First sight, yeah, we love without reason, Oh, twenty-five years old, Oh, how were you to know, and My, my love had been frozen, Deep blue, but you painted me golden"

" I, I loved you in spite of Deep fears that the world would divide us So, baby, can we dance Oh, through an avalanche?"

In 2023, Mirae wrote this song to commemorate her and Mingyu's first anniversary, a time when everything seemed to be going splendidly. Despite the immense happiness she felt, a lingering fear persisted—one day, the media might uncover their relationship, and thrust them into the challenging reality of managing a high-profile relationship in an unforgiving industry. The options would be stark: either confront and navigate the consequences or retreat into a secret relationship. Given her profound love for Mingyu, Mirae was unwilling to jeopardize their bond. The metaphor of dancing with their hands tied in the song conveys the profound sense of helplessness, an inability to alter their circumstances despite the intensity of their love. In the face of an apparent doom, the couple endeavors to make the most of their time together, cherishing every moment as they navigate the complexities of their high-profile relationship. When she played it for him the first time, Mingyu fell in love with the song and despite its deep meaning, it became his favorite as he too felt those same emotions from time to time but he knew that he would go through every obstacle just to be with her.

9- Daylight

"I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you, And I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you, I've been sleepin' so long in a twenty-year dark night, And now I see daylight, I only see daylight"

In 2023, after returning home from a vacation with Mingyu, Mirae penned this song as a heartfelt tribute to him. The lyrics convey the profound impact he has had on her life, transforming her days into brighter and happier experiences. In contrast to past relationships that left her feeling unsuccessful and unlucky, meeting Mingyu brought a golden hue to her existence. The song reflects her desire to focus solely on him and their shared happiness, leaving behind the shadows of the past.

10- Only

"My only one, when I see you I want to lean on you, I want to have you A love like this would make, Even the most immature dream come true Now I believe, Every step we take, It's like a dance we perform together, My, oh my, oh my, oh, my love, Be my only love"

In late 2023, following Mingyu's heartwarming meeting with Mirae's mother and siblings, she found herself overwhelmed with emotions, convinced that Kim Mingyu was her forever love. Witnessing the beautiful bond between him and her family inspired her to express her deep feelings through a song, a musical testament to their connection. Driven by the desire to be his and his alone, Mirae initially intended to keep the song as a birthday surprise for Mingyu. However, the anticipation and excitement got the best of her, and during the festive Christmas season, Mirae decided to reveal the song to Mingyu. His genuine and joyful reaction convinced her that this song held a special place in their story. Impressed by the overwhelming positive response from Mingyu, she made the bold decision to include the song in her upcoming album and even selected it as the title track. Fans eagerly awaited the album's release after getting a glimpse of the heartfelt and personal track, eager to experience the full emotional journey that Mirae had poured into her music.

A/N- Will be posting a part 2 for the Only Mv and Visuals!!

[bleachbleachbleach]

For the AO3 Wrapped Meme: Favorite pairing you wrote for this year? (non-romantic edition). I love the way your fics always have the most perfect interactions between pairs of characters, sometimes the usual suspects, sometimes completely unexpected combos, but something interesting and insightful always come out of it. My favorite was the time you wrote about Isane and Renji washing their socks together, but I'd like to know what yours is.

AO3 Wrapped Meme

Aww thank youuu! 🥺 I too am also incredibly fond of Isane and Renji washing their socks together, because I like Isane and Renji doing laundry together, but also because that scene determined what the structure of the entire fic was going to need to be, because if Isane and Renji spent 500 words washing socks, then Iemura would have to be here, and Hisagi too, and Isane can't just read a letter and reminisce, no, she and Unohana are going on a HIKING TRIP--

This year I enjoyed writing Hinamori introducing herself to Sasakibe via 18th century British literature; I enjoyed Orihime and Hitsugaya dealing with the Worm TV; I enjoyed the Hanbantai Players forcing interactions with others. But the first thing that came to mind is less a pair and more a triangulation, from D O N K I :

"Yes," Hitsugaya agrees. He'd spent a month in Nagano several decades ago, on his first solo deployment to the Living World. It had felt very similar to Junrinan, as his captain had known it would.

"Kurosaki-kun's father drove me there once," Inoue says. "Nagano, I mean. It's where--Well, that's where my family grave is. My aunt forced my grandparents to let him be interred there. But it was so far, and I thought I was going to take the train, and then a bus, and then walk, but--Kurosaki-kun's father drove me all the way. He waited outside the cemetery for hours, all by himself. He smoked a pack of cigarettes. And then he drove me home."

Hitsugaya tries to imagine Kurosaki Isshin driving a car.

At this point in the fic, Orihime’s been thinking about Sora a lot, because she’s thinking about the Winter War and thinking about going to Soul Society to train with Rukia, and just generally thinking about change that you can’t turn back from. And Hitsugaya’s been thinking about Hinamori. Orihime doesn’t know Hinamori, and Hitsugaya just learned that Orihime even has a brother like 5 minutes ago, but one person they do both know is Isshin (even if Orihime doesn’t know that they both know him).

From Orihime’s perspective, she’s telling this story in the context of “places she has been and why” and in the context of Sora, and her relationship to Ichigo, AKA the person she followed into this Winter War. For Hitsugaya, this story is one piece of what Isshin has been up to this whole time. And what he’s been up to is driving Orihime--a little girl whose brother died in his clinic, who is a classmate of his son’s--to a funeral three hours away, waiting for the duration of the entire funeral (probably thinking about Masaki, because what else would you be compelled to do when standing outside a cemetery for hours), and then driving her all the way back home. I think Hitsugaya finds a lot of value in knowing that whatever else might’ve gone down, Isshin is still out there offering quixotic energy to random kids he crosses paths with. 

I really like this connection as part of Orihime and Hitsugaya’s relationship to each other--as some other thing they share, outside of their present situation/impending war.

[mannatea]

His Choice, a Tales of Symphonia ‘fic

Words: 959 words Summary: He’d known all along he would outlive her. Pairing/Character: Zelos/Sheena, mention of others Extra Info: This was originally written and posted June 22, 2008 for my friend Nico. His prompt was “Finality.” The original title of this work was “Curse of a Man.” Rating: T Genre: Romance with some friendship vibes, also sort of a character study piece for a more mature Zelos.

The title is the link to Ao3! Please let me know what you think. :) This was a surprisingly big rewrite again.

Notes below the cut as usual:

When I re-read the original ‘fic last night I honestly felt I’d keep more of the original structure, but once I started rewriting I just...couldn’t.

So my usual rewriting habit is to open the original in one document, open a blank document and place them side by side. I retype everything and edit/leave things out/etc as I go. 

While the original had some good bits in it (the line about Regal’s death and Raine disappearing did hit pretty hard I think) the theme was based more around love being a curse, which...yuck, no thanks.

I think there’s room for “ageless” (or slow-aging) characters to feel bitterness and loneliness regarding love, but I ended up wanting to explore that relationship dynamic without the cynicism. After all, Zelos did, in the end, get to choose what he wanted for himself. He might be a bit of a dunderhead sometimes, but like Raine, Genis, Yuan, Kratos, and any other person in this game with a long life expectancy, he’d be well aware of what he was getting himself into.

I’m not 100% satisfied with the end result, mostly because it’s really hard to hit on the characterization of an older and wiser Zelos who isn’t chasing down voluptuous hunnies all the time, but I think it turned out all right. If he commits himself to something of his own free will he’s not the type to back down from that IMO. And there’s something intriguing about a character like Zelos taking love extremely serious when he does decide he wants it. I wanted to show that in the rewrite above all else—that he loves her and the journey they took to get to where they are, aging and all. (Even though it hurts to see the journey coming to an end, even though it makes him feel helpless.)

Anyway, the year I wrote this was the year my grandmother died. She spent the last months of her life in a nursing home and shared her room with a woman in her 90s named Naomi. Naomi was there for end of life care and was never awake or even fully aware, but every day her 101-year-old husband came to visit her and just sat there holding her hand for hours and hours.

I’m sure that inspired at least part of this story.

And while I didn’t have time to explore it fully in this story I did want to touch on how friend groups start to fall apart when no longer united by a commonality. Since the line about Regal dying and Raine disappearing was in the original, I expanded slightly on that relationship and connected it to Zelos’s current predicament. There’s a tiny implication in there that Regal’s funeral was the last time the group was together and he’s heard almost nothing from anyone since. 

I REALLY wanted to explore the funeral more (Raine losing her struggle with grief, Genis unable to comfort her, the group feeling disjointed, unbalanced, and unfamiliar now) but there wasn’t room for it. I guess you can imagine it for yourself. ;)

I almost titled this “Chosen’s Choice” for the sweet alliteration but worried it read too close to Ladies’ Choice and/or Sophie’s Choice and couldn’t do it. 

[rainbowsalt0412]

Osamu Dazai And The Dark Era - Afterword

Good evening. Asagiri here.

I ordered the late Sakunosuke Oda's favorite Osaka-style curry online and tried it. It was extremely spicy, but good. But also extremely spicy. My hand was basically glued to my water glass. The moment I finished, I started planning when I would eat it next. It was that kind of curry. I apologize to anyone reading this in the middle of the night.

Anyway, this is the second Bungo Stray Dogs novel: Osamu Dazai andthe Dark Era. While Osamu Dazai's Entrance Exam took place two years before the comics, this novel takes place four years earlier and is about Dazai's life as a Mafia executive. The title inspiration came from the artist Pablo Picasso's first works (as a young man) known as the Blue Period. The author Osamu Dazai was rather wild in his younger years, but the Dazai in Bungo Stray Dogshad his own dark days as a youth, too.

Now, if I may digress.

The substance of this novel came to life because of a certain photograph. Authors Osamu Dazai, Sakunosuke Oda, and Ango Sakaguchi were part of a school of writers known as the Buraiha, or libertines. They would gather at a bar in Ginza, drink, and talk about the literary world, novels, their family, and everything in between.

There's actually a photo of them talking and having a good time that you can find at the Kanagawa Museum of Modern Literature (taken by the photographer Tadahiko Hayashi). Osamu Dazai is trying to act all cool with his legs on the stool, Sakunosuke Oda is facing the camera and smiling, and Ango Sakaguchi has a hand on his glass while listening to Dazai's story. They're so relaxed that it's hard to believe they're in front of a camera (especially when you consider that cameras back then were huge and the flashbulbs had to be changed with every shot). You can really tell they got along. Not only are these three authors pillars of the literary world, but they seemed to be really close as well. I guess you could even call them 'Friends.' Such wonderful, sympathetic relationships aren't easy to come by, and you can't simply take them back if you lose them. That's something even normal people like us can understand.

Then, only nine days after the picture was taken, Sakunosuke Oda passed away from a lung hemorrhage due to tuberculosis.

Osamu Dazai wrote 'Oda! You did well' in his eulogy for the funeral. Not too long after that, he and Ango Sakaguchi also departed from this world, and now all that's left is this picture of them. The starting point of this story came from what will never again return, something forever sealed within a strip of film.

As you know, the characters in BungoStrayDogsdon't share everything in common with their real-life counterparts. There are a number of discrepancies in the series's setting that contradict historical fact (for example, it was actually Osamu Dazai who looked up to Ryuunosuke Akutagawa). I have no qualms with readers treating these as entities independent from the actual history.

However, my belief is that the faint glimmers these individuals left behind for future generations (such as the lines written in their stories, or that something within the aforementioned photo) are the very nature of a great author. So to stretch the point a bit, I feel as though this series wouldn't be able to live up to its name—Bungo—without these glimmers.

Enough serious talk. I just wanted to express my gratitude to everyone for their support and love for the series. Thanks to you all, we are planning on a third novel. I'm going to be extremely busy releasing four comics and three novels within a year, but I really hope you look forward to the continuation of the Bungo Stray Dogsuniverse.

Last but not least, I would like to thank my amazing partner Sango Harukawa for yet again drawing such beautiful illustrations and cool characters. I'd also like to thank the editors, advertisers, agencies, bookstores, and you, the reader! Thank you all so much.

Let us meet again in the next volume.

KAFKA ASAGIRI

***

[addictiveissues]

…”…Today, on a cybersec webinar, an intro with name was "I'm a female Latina". I'm not sure the why for such an intro, especially on video, but I didn't get it regardless. I'm thinking, they are saying "yes, I'm a Latino and supporting other Latinos. This was a regular cybersec event.

Lots of people are seeking entry to the field and sometimes particularly in the women's groups, there is a focus on how to do so.

Being so invested in this field for so long, and very integrated into the local community (and beyond), I feel I always give back a lot, including inputs on the field, and this very question--how to enter.

It seems often that newcomers are less invested in the career search when it comes to cybersecurity. If I wanted to be an auto mechanic for instance, I'd research it and see what skills overlapped, what skills and experience I needed, and understand why I was attracted to it. Where would I find an entry point based on those? Do the same if I wanted to be a funeral director or embalmer (some of our youngers do). What would it take? Then how would I get there from where I am. Google is my friend. So is my network, and so is the community.

When I think sometimes in looking back, that I might have stumbled into this field, it is not actually so. I worked in IT a long time, was an Operations manager, and applied for a senior security auditor role in my company, that one of my professional colleagues--and a best friend--referred me to when it opened. My manager fully supported me in a strong referral. Boy was there mixed joy and pain in that startup role! Passing Go!

That's how I got my Factory Automation IT Manager role too--my manager and his manager connected me, and I was hired into the role before others who wanted it, even knew it was open.

For cyber and IT, a lot of work went into it, over time, despite not knowing what the outcome would be, as it evolved. It was hard at first to get a handle on quantifiable career planning, and guidance helped me on how to get started. But since then, I've been an avid career planner, and my objectives and strategic plan were always active on the job, whether or not they were required. If you share them, they are also more likely to materialize with support, especially with a current manager or employer.

Every job I ever got, for the most part, came thru referrals and who you knew. Especially as a consultant after I left Intel--though headhunters offer up one-off assignments. But still--someone always knows you, especially in today's hyper-connected world. Mostly I got connected when I left the corporate world and had to create a network outside that big organization.

And yes, I had guidance and inputs from the start, and it became real journey once I consciously started managing my career. And yes, I could have achieved more.

So, what's your story on this?…”….

With a life filled with mis steps and all kinds of trouble with my choices -

Sometimes being known is my own worst enemy. Having to start over in new playgrounds with new friends only to end up playing the same games. After a long list of playground hopping , I am one of the lucky ones. Even with all of the hard work that gets put in , not everyone makes it out. Let alone is able to be successful, too.

But. Some people do.

Mine is a bit of a different story. More of a broken way. Mine went through temp agencies. Went through allot of professions and allot of classes to get here.

And there is still so far to go.

Excited for the future. Trying not to be sorry about the past.

I think the best route is to just close any open door of opportunity for growth. It may not be exactly like you like it or how you want it. Not all roads should be abandoned.

[villain-in-love]

your father's day post has me curious! does katarina like to do anything special with undertaker to celebrate father's day? do they like to visit somewhere together, or does she perhaps give him gifts instead? also does she have any silly nicknames for him, or does he have nicknames for her?

dad!undertaker is so funny and endearing to me, i can imagine him constantly cracking dad jokes at every opportunity he gets.

i would love to ask more about your black butler and twst s/is but don't want to flood your inbox XD but please feel free to share anymore facts about them here if you want, i'd love to hear them!!

Undertaker definitely cracks a lot of awful dad jokes, sometimes because he genuinely thinks that the jokes are funny, sometimes because seeing Katarina frustrated is funny.

Anyways, it made me research if Father’s Day was even a thing in Victorian England. Aaaand it wasn’t. This holiday was invented in 1909, which means that they most likely won’t celebrate Father’s Day.

By the way, I’m not sure if I can answer your questions in a way you probably expect – I’m one of the least sentimental people one could possibly meet, so nicknames and celebrations, doesn’t matter if it’s platonic or romantic, is something mostly foreign to me.

Undertaker and Katarina don’t “officially” consider themselves to be a family, even if they act like a father and his daughter, and mostly it’s just something they joke about often, seemingly not treating it seriously. Though gradually Undertaker starts to realize that he does care about Katarina as if she was his own child, he just doesn’t say it directly.

Katarina, on the other hand, internally decided that Undertaker will be her new dad right from the start but said nothing about it because she didn’t want to bother him even more, since she’s already lucky that he took responsibility for her at all.

(She got isekai-ed from our world, not because I actually think it’s a good way to start a story. I mean, it’s something I came up with when I was eleven, but for certain symbolic reasons that are very important to me, I decided to keep this part. Plus, it's precisely because she's from another world that she will develop some issues, and it's the thing that will lead to her eventually becoming the abomination currently known by the name “Death”.)

…

Though if Father’s Day did exist at that point in time, they would definitely pay some attention to it.

Katarina, throwing a funeral wreath at Undertaker: "Congratulations for adopting me."

Undertaker would also try to use Father’s Day as an excuse to throw some of his work at her to do instead (well, only if he’s sure that she can handle it) because heeey, it’s his holiday. Which means that his only daughter should appreciate him and at least try to do something nice once in a while.

I’m not the type to give nicknames, but you know, I remember when I watched "Katekyo Hitman Reborn" years ago, Fran would obnoxiously draw out vowels when calling Mukuro “teeeaacheeer”, and I imagine Katarina would often address Undertaker the same way. In the most annoying tone she can manage.

Whatever nicknames Undertaker tried to give Katarina at first did not stick, so apart from her name, sometimes he just address her as “kid”.

Well, she’s a “late teenager” going on “young adult”, but for someone as old Undertaker, he would obviously mostly see her as a kid. Especially since she has very little idea on how to function as an adult, so now Undertaker is kind of “fixing” the mistakes of her actual parents' and tries to push her towards independence more. He's not particularly protective (or doesn't allow himself to be) and implements casual approach: if she has to deal with some trouble, he will give advice, maybe provide a bit of help, but she has to figure out the most by herself.

I had an incorrect quote somewhwere...

"Katarina: Hey teeeacheeer...What would you do if I was kidnapped?

Undertaker: Oh, nothing. I'd just wait thirty minutes until they let you go voluntarily."

...but surely Undertaker is a fun dad. That's the entire thing, I always wanted a father who would understand me instead of judging me for every wrong move, and Undertaker seemed to be much more similar to me than my actual dads are. He's eccentric, morbid, understands the value of information and entertainment, and is also smart and capable of thinking deeply and broadly, even if he might be just a bit insane.

...

Well, that's a messy wall of text I got here, maybe it got a bit personal, but I don't really care at this point. I didn't think too much about what I'm writing for the sake of being able to answer while it's relevant.

[suresh-lal]

If it had been anyone else. He wouldn't still be in the hallway. Wouldn't have allowed them to get close enough to touch let alone put hands on his face. Suresh would never have been able to accept this display of concern and affection. He had known better than to reach out after the accident. That wasn't what Nick had wanted and is own sadness over Adelaide's death, the loss of a friend, hadn't been as important as making sure Nick survived in all the ways that mattered. It had given his grief a purpose. There had been a moment when he could have chosen to shut it down, but the selfish part of him had wanted it. Even just for a few moments. But he also resented his desire for it. Resented the kindness and his need for it.

Dark eyes snapped back at the two word reply. Feeling safe enough to look at the expression of the other as Nick gave his divination. He was right to an extent. He knew the nightmare would appear again. But in his mind the nightmare was manageable. It was being caught wholly unawares too soon after that was the problem. "I don't need the memory to disappear... but I hate repeating fixable mistakes." Suresh let his hand fall away from Nick's shoulder, the other still holding the wrist. A small reconstruction of part of the armor.

He listened to Nick's story, because he had become very good at listening in the last decade. Something he'd learned from Nick. How to listen to what people said, how they said it, and what to do with it. It mattered that Nick has shared something personal. And it wasn't lost on the younger man. The effort the other was going to. Suresh thought about the images of it, bodies in water. A natural disaster. So much washed away and buried in mud. Unquantifiable suffering and loss. But when was suffering ever quantifiable? No, time did not heal wounds. Action healed wounds. Imagining these mental scars like untreated acute injuries left to become chronic. Emotional scar tissue. It had always been easier to see it from a clinical perspective. Solvable. Another piece of armor sliding back into place.

The invitation was a kind one. It wasn't something Nick had needed to do. And not too long ago Suresh had been thinking about how much he had missed those casual invites. But that wasn't what this was. It was an offer of sanctuary from those old ghosts by coming to stay in a house haunted by good memories. He made himself look up at Nick, forced himself to give a small nod in agreement. "Vulnerability is not natural for me. You know a little of why now. But I do trust you and I will try." The soft brush of a calloused thumb on his cheek finally made Suresh reach up and take Nick's hands and move them gently away from his face. Not because he had wanted it to stop, but because he had needed it to stop. Too many emotional upheavals tonight as it was. His face suddenly felt cold without the hands. He looked up at the other man and patted his hands awkwardly before he let them go, not sure what else to do with them. "Thank you." And he meant it. More than he could express. A pause, a beat and then Suresh looked at the ground again and cursed in French at the mess. Almost back to himself. But the rawness was still there in the sunken eyes and the sad expression despite the attempt at a joke. "Mon ami, can we make an agreement... no more sneaking up on people in dark Funeral homes in the middle of the night. Yes?"

The good side was that Suresh wasn't shoving him away, utterly rejecting the open display of both affection and comfort. Instead, it seemed needed if not perhaps a little overdue. Had the shoe been on the other foot, and it had been, Nick would have shoved Suresh away. Instead, there had been a quiet understanding to simply keep interactions cold and clinical in the aftermath. Let Nick grieve to himself. Standing there now, however, clearly that wasn't a route for just anyone. Some needed the tenderness, the gentleness, and the fact Suresh hadn't told him to fuck off was a testament to different natures. Had he, Nick would have gladly provided the space needed, but he would stay put for now. For as long as Suresh needed it and would allow it.

It was a story he'd heard over and over again, witnessed many times in different ways, some of which when he was in prison. Albeit a much shorter time and no one messed with him for long in there. Though Nick himself had been scrawnier back then, he had no care on the damage to his hands and fought back with a ferocity that kept himself protected. And now those same hands, calloused and scarred as they were and with the capability for greater damage, held Suresh's face like fragile glass. As if too much force and he might shatter or even cut Nick in retaliation in orders to protect himself from the memories.

"It will." His reply was blunt, though still keeping his voice soft. "It might be tomorrow night, a year from now, or even ten. Memories of pain don't just disappear because we want them to." There would be another breakdown, another nightmare that had Suresh curling in on himself again. The scars on Nick might be fresher but they were hardly the first. "I still have dreams about the water. I'm wading in it, trying to find people I knew. Instead, there's just bodies and bodies. Some of them I know, some I don't. I wasn't even there when the hurricane hit and that was nineteen years ago. Doesn't mean I don't think about my home being washed away or the aftermath when I was there." It wasn't for pity, wasn't for competition, but an understanding that time did not heal all wounds. The memories were like ghosts, haunting and sneaking in when least expected. At some point, their minds were just the haunted house they resided in. It was something Nick had grown accustomed to.

That didn't mean there had to be any shame in it, nor hide it away. Just because Nick held his back did not mean he expected Suresh to in any way, shape, or form. "But just because it comes back doesn't mean you're alone, okay? You know where my penthouse is if you want the guest room for a change of scenery. Or just to talk. You're my right hand. And just like my actual left hand, some times you need a bit of support. That's okay with me." His thumb gently brushed the other's cheek. Sometimes being in charge meant giving support. This wasn't Suresh fucking up on a job, wasn't Suresh crying like some might to avoid repercussions. This was a raw side of him and not one that Nick would be so quick to dismiss.

[sekceesimps]

The Adeptus’s Temptation (Xiao x reader oneshot)

summary: Xiao watches and reacts to his darling being flirted with by a certain Geo Archon.  angst (kinda) but ends with fluff.  

a/n Hey anon, I loved your requests so I decided to do both of them… hope you enjoy it! Thanks for the love and feel free to leave another request (that goes for all of you!) 

This is sort of a more in depth version of the Xiao part in the Genshin Jealousy HCs

Also sorry for the delays between publishing, Tea and I have been busy with our personal lives, but we’re trying to write more! 

Keep liking and following us, it genuinely motivates me to write. 

 Sincerely Coffee  

Who would have ever thought that the Conqueror of Demons, the Vigilant Yaksha, the great adeptus Xiao would ever have a significant other that was human. Certainly not you and definitely not him. 

Xiao is not someone who is easy to open up and be kind, but you managed to break through his cold and harsh demeanor. A surprise to the adeptus who had resigned himself to living his life alone and far from others. You are someone special to him in a world filled with incompetent and useless humans. 

It took some time for him to allow you to spend more days with him and even allow you to initiate physical affection. At first, it came as a relief when you were out doing commissions or just going out to work, he needed his space after all. He was worried about how fast he was falling for you and clung onto the hope that the space he left would allow him to protect himself. 

As your warmth and presence grew on him more, a part of him yearned to be at your side and let you closer to his heart. He had put up his icy walls to combat the heartbreak that comes after losing friend after friend, he was distraught with how quickly you broke through to him. He grumbled at your hand holding, but leaning into your touch nonetheless. 

Your dangerous commissions started to lessen as he refused to let you take on the most harmful of enemies without him. After all, he had no idea what he would do if he lost you. 

Xiao’s favorite thing to do with you is sit at the top of Wangshu Inn or even just the cliff sides of Liyue and bask in your attention and presence. He practically glowed under your loving gaze and from the light brushes of your hand against his. He had known the land for thousands of years and he had seen the most beautiful of landscapes in his time guarding it. He thought that he had seen every stunning thing in this world, that was at least until he met you. 

Your bravery, resilience, and overwhelming beauty had completely captured him, and as time went on he fell further and further for you. The life he envisioned the two of you to live together was a calm and peaceful one. He knew it probably wouldn’t be possible with the nature of both of your responsibilities and his own life span, but an adeptus could still dream.  

Now as much as Xiao wants to protect you, he can’t really leave Liyue. He’s able to help you when you’re here with him, but he’s essentially powerless when you go to Mondstadt. Of course, he’s entertained the thought of just leaving for a bit and staying by your side to protect you. In the end, he always lets you leave for work with a light kiss to your forehead and a heavy feeling in his heart. 

You had accustomed him to your soft affections and gentle mannerisms. He was always reluctant in letting you leave, but he trusted your abilities and simply had to stew in his reluctance when you were gone. He often told you to simply call out his name if you were in trouble and he’d be there in a moment. To this you would simply smile and reassure him with soft kisses to the top of his head. It was a miracle when he had managed to convince you to take on more commissions and bounties in the Liyue area. It made it easier for him to come to your side for aid and also to watch over you. It also allowed for more frequent dates, which made both of you incredibly happy. 

You always had the most interesting stories from your time adventuring. When you two were relaxing on loving moonlight nights, he looked forward to the smile on your face when you spoke in detail about your commissions. He was silent and let you speak, paying full attention to you. Xiao loved the silence and peace. He hated when humans would talk for hours on end, it was unnecessary and wasted his time. However, this sentiment didn’t carry on with you. 

He often urged you to talk about your day and the people you met. Xiao does everything he can to coax more of your sweet voice out. Your voice had always been like music to his ears. For you, he could bear not being alone. For you, he was carving out hours of his day to cuddle and listen to you speak. 

That was until everything changed with your adventuring routes. Previously, right after you switched from Mondstadt routes, the Guild had kept you near the Wangshu Inn and around the Qingce Village area. However, due to increased demand for your services, you had been moved South towards Liyue Harbor. The adventures you went on now were much simpler, but much more boring. You’d complain to your boyfriend about how you had to talk to too many people and how exhausting it was for you. Xiao would listen intently and offer a comforting embrace, silently happy that at least you weren’t out risking your life every day.  

His concern began when you moved on from random requests and commissions with different people to a more stable and consistent job. You had accepted a job from the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor as a one time thing, but your skill and agreeability had earned you a more permanent position there. 

Your day to day job was to just assist and protect different members with finding and restoring relics across Liyue. However, it allowed you to move around more and actually engage in combat, a welcome change from before. You had helped the director herself, but your favourite employee to work with was Mr. Zhongli.  He was a tall and serious man, but he was powerful and amusing to talk to. 

The first adventure you had gone on with him, you couldn’t stop talking about it with Xiao when you came home that night. One adventure turned into ten quite quickly as the two of you made a habit of engaging in all your commissions with the parlor together. Zhongli as your companion in travel gave you a sense of stability and a feeling of safety when you were out in dangerous situations again. 

Every night you came back, you told Xiao about the mysterious and strong man’s aid to you. The passion you spoke of his power and of his intelligence in the culture of Liyue surprised him at first. As you kept talking about Zhongli, Xiao started to feel different. He was no longer eager to hear of your adventures because he felt something very strange now. 

Xiao has never felt afraid. At least, not truly. He is not afraid of death as he had accepted it long ago. Yet now you had given him something to live for and losing you would leave him back into a pit of despair, suffering, longing, and emptiness. Seeing you gush over the assistant to the funeral director filled him with a new unpleasant feeling. Heart numbing fear. 

He was careful to not let you know how he felt. He was nervous that you would view him as pitiful for what he truly felt in his heart. Bile would fill up in his throat when you talked about that man as he held your full attention. In response, Xiao would start to capture your mouth with a kiss if he sensed that you’d talk about Zhongli on your dates. It got you to shut up and restored his happiness for a moment. 

He felt guilty for interrupting you of course. Yet, he couldn’t muster up the courage to confront his own feelings of insecurity. The best he could do was try to prove to you how much he could offer. As his kisses began to get more heated, he found it fit to use his strength to carry you back to your shared bedroom. 

Out of curiosity, Xiao decided to actually look at this Mr. Zhongli one day. If he was feeling insecure before, oh man, any self confidence he had was now wrecked. The man was absolutely perfect with you. 

You were smiling and walking through the harbor-city side by side with the sharply dressed golden eyed man. The walk that the two of you had was powerful. The men and women of Liyue whispered behind you two about how cute the both of you were. Xiao silently watched as you two sat at the tea house and drank tea in silence. Zhongli had never taken his loving and intent gaze off of you. The Yaksha took in more of the man’s appearance. He was much taller than Xiao was and carried himself with a royal sort of dignity. As the two of you finished your tea, the man made a move to pay for your tea by charging it to the funeral parlor. He’s rich too, Xiao thinks sourly. What doesn’t he have? He has enough when Zhongli’s resoundingly deep voice tells you how well you fought today. If Xiao sounded like that he would never want to shut up.  

He goes back into his bad habits of distancing himself and retreating back into his own silence. His awful self loathing that you worked hard to remove has manifested itself again and begun lashing out on you. Brushing you off, short snappy responses, and hardly responding to anything. This results in you thinking you did something wrong. 

Oh how the adeptus breaks when he sees you try to make him Almond Tofu and various other small gifts to please him. He knows you didn’t do anything, but all he wants is you to free yourself from him and spend your life with someone who could provide so much more than he could. 

In your shared bedroom, he would be physically present, but he was silent and hardly even looked at you. He could hear your muffled tears at night when you thought he was asleep. It took everything within him to not turn to you and let you lay your head in his chest and leave kisses across your face after he dried away your tears. It hurt him again when he heard you asking Verr Goldet if she could help you plan a nice surprise for him. As he stayed to listen, he had to listen to the innkeeper give you kind words as you broke down explaining what it was for.

All your advances towards his forgiveness and love go rejected. He decides that it would be better for you in the long run if it was like this. He stays cold, at least until he sees something that pushes him back to your side. 

His pity party and moping is interrupted by the strangest feeling in his heart. Something painful crackles and burns inside of him. He’s not sure how he knows, but he feels that something is very wrong with you. 

Xiao was not called the adeptus of speed for no reason. The speed in which he reached you was one he had not used for hundreds of years. 

You weren’t in any life threatening danger, but the bond that you two shared was. He could see Zhongli gently move a strand of your hair behind your ear. You had a more nervous smile on your face. 

“How fascinating, Y/N” his voice breaks the silence, “Your abilities seem to get stronger every day,” he continues praising you.

Your face flushes a light pink and you look down, breaking the gaze between you two. “You’re too kind, Mr. Zhongli, but I wouldn’t have been able to grow so much without your guidance,”

The golden eyed man smiles at this as he leans in slightly closer to you, “In that case, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” 

Xiao clears his throat as he steps out from the bushes and stalks towards you with a glower on his face. You look at your lover in surprise, not seeing or hearing his voice in quite some time. 

“Actually, she’s already taken so you can take your leave now,” his words filled with venom. He doesn’t even try to be subtle as he holds his emerald spear by his side in warning to the man who tried to make a move on you. 

Zhongli nods, “I understand, sorry for intruding,” as he leaves. Xiao’s watchful gaze not leaving him until he’s far out of sight. Your adeptus moves to your side and engulfs you in a warm hug that he wishes to convey all of his feelings of love into. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you like that, it was unnecessary and you didn’t even do anything wrong. Give me a chance,” he seldom begs, “please,” he adds. His golden eyes piercing into your soul and displaying such regret. 

You don’t respond, but you lean closer to him and press your lips softly against his. He forgot how much he missed this. 

Oh how stupid he was for not letting you know how much he adored you known more. Well, now he had the time to make it up to you. He brings you towards the cliffside and the two of you sit down together once more, the bond shared between you too also renewed. 

As you look at him, he lets you lean on his shoulder and look at the sun’s light beginning to wane as the sky was touched with beautiful pastel pinks and purples. 

“I love you, Y/N” he whispers softly as he nuzzles his face into your H/C hair. 

“Hmm, I love you too, Xiao,” you respond sweetly and relax under his presence.

The brown haired Archon chuckled lightly as he watched his Adeptus gently place his arm around your waist. He was happy that the cold guardian had finally found someone to love and someone to take care of him in return. When the time was necessary, Morax was ready to bring a contract to let the two of you spend the rest of eternity together, as two soulmates should. 

a/n Hope you enjoyed it! Leave a like and some feedback, please.

[bookishofalder]

Catfish & Sunshine

Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader Mini Series

Summary: Frankie is secretly in love with his best friend. Thanks in part to Benny’s shitty horror movie recommendation and stray ice cream, feelings come out unexpectedly during movie night. 

Warnings: Language, SMUT, little angst, lots of fluff, poor writer understanding of US military benefits/retirement. WC 8,215.

A/N: I dreamed this up after rewatching Triple Frontier about a month ago (for the plot, of course) and let it sit for a while. Became inspired to finish it off this week and share it with you all-so please let me know your thoughts!

For over a decade, Saturday nights were, for Frankie Morales, usually spent with his best friends over drinks at their favourite bar. When deployed, the bar was instead smuggled whiskey that they shared under the stars, an attempt to imagine they were anywhere other than the current hellhole. As Special Ops soldiers, Frankie and his buddies had been through the worst of the worst together, until one by one they retired or were forced to retire, and then they were back to regular appearances at the local bar, for a while the five of them, then four.

Until Frankie met you.

Had someone come up to him during one of those nights years before and told Frankie that one day he’d be bringing you along to the bar to join him and the guys, he’d have laughed in their faces. But for a while, that was exactly what occurred, until you and Frankie grew so close that you usually ended up making different plans, like going mini-golfing, or lounging at his apartment and watching movies. Not that you didn’t love the guys, all whom you’d met except for Santi as he had been off the grid for just over a year when you and Frankie had met.

It was thanks to the elder Miller brother, Will, that he had even met you at all. Working at the VA office, Will had learned of one of the few retirement perks they had for putting their asses on the line for their country-physical therapy. And you came highly recommended, a star PT who had worked magic over his friends' ailments. Knowing Frankie suffered from shoulder and neck pains, Will handed him your card and encouraged him to book an appointment.

He hadn’t called straight away. He’d popped your card onto his fridge and every day he’d pass by it, consider calling, and then talk himself out of it. Until the pain became too much to bear, his latest menial job just a little too physical for him, causing him to consider using again just to dull the ache. But he’d walked by your card moments later and instead of making a terrible decision he had promised himself he’d never make again, he called your office. Made an appointment with your friendly receptionist, who thankfully had his name already because Will had put in a good word for Frankie and asked that they try and get him in straight away, whenever he finally did call.

Two days later Frankie was standing nervously in the treatment room, looking at a wall decorated with your various degrees and certificates. He was anxious not only because he worried he’d get his hopes up that this would help the pain only to be disappointed, but also because he had no idea what to expect. Years of service as a pilot had made Frankie into a man who planned, meticulously, leaving little in the way of surprises. But he’d reasoned that calling the office back and demanding they give him a minute-by-minute account of what the appointment would be like was probably going too far.

And then you had walked in and immediately his worries morphed into concern over the fact that he required a beard trim, that he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed and popped his usual cap on, probably appearing a little gruff. And fuck, he almost couldn’t breathe when you gave him the most dazzling, genuine smile like you were greeting an old friend. You were bright, a rare energy radiating off of you as though you absorbed it straight from the fucking sun, and you were beautiful. No wonder Will had winked at Frankie when he’d handed you the business card.

You were observant, introducing yourself and seemingly sensing his overall discomfort. Instead of launching straight to business, you gestured for him to sit and spent a good twenty minutes casually chatting, pulling information you needed from him while putting him at ease entirely. He learned then that Will had already sung Frankie’s praises, given you the heads up that he was a worrier and even told a few stories that showcased his talents as a pilot.

If Frankie didn’t know any better, he’d think his friend was trying to play matchmaker.

All thoughts of Will Miller, and pretty much every other thing on the planet, vanished the moment you laid your expert hands on to Frankie. You zeroed in on the worst source of pain and slowly worked away, and he could only agree with Will that you had magic hands. He could have died happily right then, as you chatted away and brought him the most relief he’d felt in years. You would pause occasionally to check in with his pain levels and make sure he was doing alright, always asking him to look at you to answer and searching his face as he spoke to ensure he was telling the truth.

The care you gave Frankie in just one appointment was enough to start him falling. And he kept going back, multiple appointments a week that not only had him walking taller, feeling lighter on his feet and reducing his migraines to seldom, but also allowing him to get to know you better. You were the kind of sweet-natured person that cried when you saw a sad commercial, laughed freely to the lamest of jokes, and seemed to wake up on the right side of the bed every day. You were sunshine, literal, tangible sunshine, and Frankie thought you might not even realize it.

Though Frankie had convinced himself early on that a woman as beautiful and kind as you could never be interested in a grouch like him, with his crows' feet and a closet full of demons. The longer he knew you little seeds of hope would sprout whenever he made you laugh so hard you had to stop the treatment just to hold your stomach as you giggled. Or when you’d share something with him innocent enough but, upon reflection, he would think it wasn’t something a normal patient-provider relationship would find exchanged.

But there was the age difference, a decade between you both that, if nothing else worked, would successfully extinguish his hope. He had wondered if perhaps you were just a decent people person, that the friendship he felt was there was entirely one-sided.

Until one day, a few months into coming to you for treatment, Frankie sat waiting for you to come in the room only for you to appear looking entirely unlike yourself. He booked his appointments always for the end of the day, a routine that promised he would get plenty of uninterrupted time with you and the conversation could flow without a time constraint. He had been so surprised that you weren’t grinning as you stepped into the room that he stood abruptly, filling with concern.

When he asked, softly, if you were alright, you didn’t brush him off like he might have expected. You instead looked up at Frankie, your lower lip trembling as your eyes filled with tears, and sobbed unexpectedly. That sound had torn a hole right into his chest and he had pulled you straight into his arms and hugged you close before asking you to tell him what he could do to help.

You ended up explaining that you had come in that morning to the news that a regular patient of yours, an elderly man you’d known the entire time you’d been working for the VA office, had passed away in his sleep. And you’d apologized to Frankie while sniffling and wiping at the tears, telling him you’d held it in all day but couldn’t do that when your friend asked you, and he had been baffled to realize you were referring to him. As your friend.

He had cut off your apology to hug you close again, smoothing your hair gently as he whispered calming words and sentiments to you in Spanish. And though you didn’t speak the language, you had since told Frankie it had done exactly what he’d hoped and made you feel all the better. 

After his treatment that day, Frankie asked if he could take you for a drink to toast your friend's life. He waited for you to close up the office, and then you’d followed him in your car to drive over to his usual bar. And you both drank to the veteran who passed, then ended up ordering dinner and remaining at the bar until late, talking even more freely outside of the office. If Frankie didn’t already have it bad for you, that night sure sealed it for him.

After that, you and Frankie began texting regularly, sometimes even calling one another to share a funny story or talk about something in the news. He had joined you for your former clients funeral, his hand rubbing comforting circles into your back before he took you out for lunch, then you’d ended up at his place to watch a cheesy movie, ordering pizza when you both realized there was a sequel that, if it was as bad as the first, you absolutely needed to watch.

And just like that, Frankie saw his life altered completely when you became his best friend.  

Currently, Frankie was seated comfortably on his couch, where he frowned at the TV playing a horror movie that you had insisted was supposed to be good, because Benny had recommended it. Considering the younger Miller brother could barely sit still half the time, that was supposedly good enough for you. 

You were tucked into Frankie’s side, eyes fixed on the screen until a jump scare had you jerk, then twist your face to press into his chest, because you hated the gory bits.

“Fuck! How does this not scare you even a little, Frankie?” You whined, unknowingly causing Frankie to swell with pride when he heard the note of admiration in your voice. He had started to suspect that the reason movie nights were becoming exclusively scary movies was that you were determined to find one that actually frightened him.

So far, you’d had no luck. But Frankie didn’t mind, because though you were already a touchy person in general, you were especially clingy when you queued up the next horror flick as if you trusted him to keep you safe.

Frankie didn’t reply, his chest rumbling with silent laughter that made you teasingly poke his side. He jumped, because you knew exactly where to aim, then cleared his throat. The scene ended, and he began to extract himself from your grip. “My sweet tooth is calling, cariño. I’m going to get some ice cream.”

You let him go, your head popping up, a big grin on your face, “Can I have some too, please?” And he nodded, smiling at you before walking across the open concept apartment and into his kitchen.

He stretched his back before opening the freezer where he had some bars next to an off-limits pint of Ben and Jerry’s. You had put it there months ago, telling Frankie it was for days when you got together and one of you needed to cry over a bad date. You called it ‘emergency’ ice cream. Frankie considered it to be ‘fuck you’ ice cream, because every time he opened his damn freezer he saw that pint and ended up thinking about how neither of you had been on a date with anyone since becoming friends over a year before, then falling into the same circular argument with himself-that the friendship was too important for him to feel the way he did, that he was jumping to conclusions and maybe you had gone on a few good dates that you just didn’t tell him about, and he was out of his mind if he thought you would ever feel the same way.

“Here you go, Sunshine,” He plopped back down next to you and passed you your bar, watching as you beamed at him widely, the inevitable result of his use of the nickname he’d dubbed you with a long time ago.

He desperately hoped you never realized the amount of affection truly behind that nickname.

Because how could he even begin to explain that you were literally sunshine in his dark life?

“Thank you,” You pulled the wrapper off, glancing at the movie and frowning. “Uhg. Benny promised the one was good! I’m starting to think he only recommends movies if they have at least one pair of tits.” You took the first bite of your ice cream bar while Frankie nearly choked on his own.

Amused as he was whenever you joked about your shared friends, Frankie also loved it when you swore. You were a goofy, happy little thing most of the time and curse words just seemed so out of character for you, pulling laughter from Frankie any time you caught him by surprise. You spent your days around gruff veterans and never seemed to lose any light, no matter how many real horror stories you heard. So whenever you managed to sound so uncharacteristically blunt, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Benny has always been a tits man,” Frankie agreed, and you giggled. He tried to refocus on the movie then, but it hadn’t captured his interest in the least. After a moment, you spoke again and he had to work on not choking.

“What are you, Francisco?”

Your tone was playful, light; Frankie’s head jerked in surprise to gaze down at you and you wiggled your brows, going for laughs. You seemed completely unaware of the roaring in his ears, the visceral reaction your words brought forth within him. You and Frankie had shared intimate tidbits like that before with one another, often during nights at the bar with the Miller brothers. After a few drinks and usually, because his friends knew exactly how he felt about you and tried to steer the conversations into dangerous waters and watch Frankie try to save himself.

Only, Frankie’s friendship with you during the last few months had become...deeper. After the operation Santiago had brought Will, Benny, Tom and him in on, your relationship had evolved. Because that nightmare had reminded Frankie just how dark shit could get in the blink of an eye, and he’d had to do things he thought he was done with when he retired from service. Worse, because they were just civilians using Santi’s connections and intel to rob a drug lord.

And you had no idea what he’d gone through, how hard he’d fought just to get home to you because he couldn’t-wouldn’t-tell you. Yet you still patched him up, physically and emotionally, when he’d come home three weeks later than he’d promised. You held him as he cried and never became angry with him, never questioned him for answers as to why he’d come home with one less friend and a whole lot of mysterious trauma.

After that, Frankie realized he was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you.

So a simple, flirtatious little question? Yeah, it really managed to fuck Frankie up.

His friends had sensed the change as well, noticed how you held Frankie up when he felt like he couldn’t stand, how you comforted them all when they got home and cried along with them over Tom, over Santi not coming home even though you’d only met him once, briefly. You held strong for him at Tom’s funeral, which prompted the Miller brothers to tell Frankie in no uncertain terms that he simply could not let you slip through his fingers. If that fucking mission had taught them anything, it was that life was too short and you might as well live it to the fullest.

But the thing was, Frankie depended on you. Your friendship was the one real, good, pure thing in his life. And you gave it so willingly and unquestionably even after what he put you through that there was no fucking way he was risking it by telling you how he felt.

Christ, you even had a spot in his bathroom for your own toiletries, a favourite pillow on his bed for the nights you stayed, a fucking hook for your coat that he installed just a little lower than the other because you were so much smaller than Frankie.

And still, he wouldn’t look at what that might mean because he was afraid, and as much as you seemed to think nothing scared him, the truth was that a gory horror movie, or losing his friend, or even fucking live combat could never come close to the fear he felt when he pictured life without you.

You were Frankie’s Sunshine, and he never wanted to be alone in the dark again.

Aware he was still gazing down at you, Frankie found himself entirely at a loss for words. You didn’t seem to mind, simply waiting for him to respond while taking small bites of your treat. His cock twitched at the combination of your words, the innocent way you gazed at him, because Frankie hadn’t touched himself in quite some time and it didn’t take much to drive him up the wall.

His life with you had become remarkably domestic, routine. You often stayed multiple nights in a row at his place, preferring his company over being alone, and the shorter distance to your office. His spacious condo had one large four-piece bathroom, which meant there had been a few times where one of you was in the shower and the other came in, desperate to use the toilet before their bladder could burst. The shower had a thickly frosted glass enclosure, which provided plenty of visual privacy from both sides, the only indication that someone was in the shower was a very faint tint. This was never an issue until it was.

Exactly sixty-two days prior (not that Frankie was necessarily keeping count of passing time since his last orgasm), you had burst into the bathroom one afternoon unexpectedly. Returning early from your jog because you needed to pee, while Frankie stood in the shower. He listened to you tell him about a cute dog you’d seen outside his building. The thing was, Frankie had expected you to be gone longer, and you were in the middle of a three-day visit that had left him needy and horny because he hadn’t had time alone and yet you walked around in his fucking clothes, slept next to him in his bed, and he needed release.

He was grateful the tinted glass prevented you from having any idea what he was doing on the other side. And he had been close already when you came in, one hand fisting over his cock while the other pressed into the tile wall, and guilt sprang up in the back of his mind because he had been thinking of you as he touched himself. And you were just feet away, unaware and fuck if that didn’t lead him to the edge.

But it was when you had sat down to pee and he heard you give a little moan of relief that Frankie lost it, giving in to the most powerful-yet silent-orgasm he had had in fucking years. Rope after rope of cum, his legs violently shaking, and he’d wondered if he would pass out it felt so good. Then you’d flushed and continued speaking, washing your hands before telling him you were going to put on a pot of coffee. And the guilt Frankie felt was so immense that he vowed right there he wasn’t going to touch himself again. He cared for and respected you too much to reduce you to his graphic thoughts without your consent.

Sixty-two days later and you were testing his limits unknowingly.

“I, uh, I’m not sure,” He replied, keeping his eyes locked on yours. You frowned a little, kitten licking the ice cream absentmindedly. Frankie almost groaned, wondering if you were trying to kill him. “I guess, it depends on the person.” He was never, ever going to admit he was a you man, that your ass, your perfect tits, your pretty little mouth were everything he could dream and more.

He tried to shrug casually, as if indifferent.

“I guess it’s a funny question,” You said after a moment, laughing a little, “I mean, no one asks a straight woman if she’s an ass or cock girl!”  

Frankie took a too-large bite of his treat, the cold painful and giving him instant brain freeze but it was just the distraction he needed because seeing your plump lips wrap around the word ‘cock’ might just kill him. He coughed attempting to laugh at your joke despite the brain freeze, and you leaned closer in concern.

“Sorry, are you-ah, shit!” A piece of your ice cream bar, which you’d moved to hold higher as you were checking on Frankie, fell off and landed on your chest, instantly staining the pale pink t-shirt. You hopped up with a noise of discontent, catching the fallen glob and hurrying into the kitchen to toss it in the sink. “Damn it!”

Frankie reached out and paused the movie, standing up and intending to follow you. He took two steps, adjusting his cap as he moved, and then looked up to where you stood at the sink, running your shirt under the faucet. Freezing, he took it the sight of you standing in his kitchen, your shirt removed to run under the water, leaving you wearing yoga pants and a simple white bra. For a moment, he just shut down and stared at you dumbfounded, before internal alarms started sounding and Frankie’s eyes were sweeping over your curves, his eyes zeroing in on the lack of support your bra had, your breasts perky and full and fuck, he had to look away.

He looked up at his ceiling at cleared his throat “You uh, want me to grab you a shirt?” His voice came out much deeper than he was expecting. He hoped you didn’t notice, though with only being able to see your profile even if he did dare to look at you, he’d never be able to tell.

“Can I borrow your big sweater, please?” You asked him, and Frankie nodded as he hurried away, down the hall to grab the sweater he knew you meant from his room. He would have laughed at your suggestion it was his sweater when he barely got to wear it himself anymore, but he was trying to remember how to breathe.

Once out of sight in his bedroom, Frankie took a few steadying breaths before grabbing the sweater off the end of his bed. He was going to subject himself to a cold shower after he handed this to you because you were staying the night again and he could not climb into a bed with you this worked up.

One of the reasons that you and Frankie just worked as friends were your opposite ways of navigating life. Where Frankie was a detailed, meticulous planner, you flitted from idea to idea spontaneously until something landed right, and you seemed to enjoy pulling him along with you as you followed those random whims. And he let you pull him because he trusted you so completely. Even if he would still make a new plan in the back of his mind, it still felt like he was taking chances he never would have without you leading the way.

Planning was Frankie’s way of keeping control. Of keeping himself, his squadmates, his loved ones, safe and secure. After Columbia, where every bit of the plan had gone completely to shit, he’d needed to let you lead more often just so he could feel grounded because he didn’t trust himself any longer. And you had been happy to lead, to test his limits by pushing aside any planning he attempted and pull him from his comfort zone. You had taught him how to grapple with his instincts and his desires, giving him real-world methods to cope, including breathing as he was now.

So focused as he was on his breathing, Frankie hadn’t noticed you had joined him in his room, standing just inside the doorway. If he had heard you, he wouldn’t have spun around abruptly and take two long strides before realizing how close you were, nearly knocking you over as he did. He dropped the sweater when he reached out with both hands to grab your upper arms and steady you, and then he met your gaze.

Frankie couldn’t say whether it was the heat of his hands on you so unexpectedly, or the way you each shivered at the electricity that seemed to pulse from him to you. Maybe it was everything combined, years of friendship, longing and pining and then almost dying in the middle of the jungle only to come home and have you climb into his lap and sob in relief that he was home, and a million other moments in between.

But when Frankie met your eyes there in the doorway of his bedroom, he knew his expression was giving him away completely.

You were looking at him with wide eyes, your mouth slightly open in surprise, whatever words you were going to say long since lost. And then he saw it, was looking right at you when your expression shifted, no longer the innocent, playful woman but instead, one who was suffering just as much as he was, longing and love and this hunger on your face he’d never seen before.

Without hesitating, without thinking or planning his next move, Frankie tugged you against him and leaned down to slot his lips over yours, taken aback when he saw you close your eyes and stretch your neck up to meet him. When your soft lips connected to his, Frankie trembled and groaned, loving the feel of your body pressed against him, the way you smelled like something tropical, how even with your perfect curves you were so small compared to him. Kissing you was everything he’d dreamed and more.

He wanted to deepen the kiss, taste you, but even as he thought it his mind jumped ten steps ahead and imagined you on his bed and he had to stop himself from getting carried away. With great effort he pulled back, first breaking the kiss and then taking several steps away, panting heavily.

“Frankie?” You were out of breath, confused, and deliciously flushed. He could see your nipples tightened against the thin fabric of your bra, goosebumps along your skin. Just the knowledge that he’d had that kind of effect on you was enough to make him want to cum in his pants right there.

“Cariño, I can’t, I’m sorry,” It was physically painful now, his hard length straining against his jeans, but he was more concerned about you, and how afraid he was to lose you. “I-I’ve wanted to do that but you gotta know, I love you. I’m in love with you.” He couldn’t meet your eyes, instead choosing to look at his feet and rubbing his hands over his face.

You approached him again, just as quietly, taking him by surprise when you spoke from just inches away. “Frankie, look at me,” It was an order, a tone you rarely used but that always worked on grounding him, and he realized you understood he was struggling right now not to break down, terrified he’d fucked up the best thing in his life in a moment of weakness. He reluctantly met your gaze, swallowing thickly as he did.

“I need you to hear me right now, okay? Tell me.”

“I’m listening,” He confirmed, heart about ready to beat out of his chest, “I can hear you.”

“Good,” And you closed the gap between your body and his, pressing your hands into his shoulders. Frankie caught his breath. “I want you to do that again, and I don’t want you to stop. Please, kiss me again, Frankie, because I love you too and I’ve never wanted anything more in my whole life than I want you-“

Frankie cut you off, a growl ripping from his chest before he gathered you roughly into his arms and kissed you again, this time quickly swiping his tongue across your lips for permission to enter, and you gladly parted them for him, moaning when his tongue licked into your hot mouth. He slid one hand to the back of your head, his fingers weaving into your hair carefully before he pressed your face to his, needy to taste you more, to get drunk on you. Fuck, you were perfect.

When you whimpered against him, the sound almost lost in his mouth, Frankie moved, walking you back until you hit the wall and crowding you there. He ran his free hand across the bare skin of your side, heat coursing through his veins when you shuddered at his touch, keening for him. He hadn’t realized he was rolling his hips against you, his erection pressed into your stomach until one of your small hands somehow slipped between your bodies and ghosted over the front of his jeans curiously.

“Fuck,” He broke the kiss, this time simply to lower his head and kiss along your jaw, down your neck, “Sunshine, I fucking love you, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, sweet girl.” He licked the column of your throat as he moved to the other side of your face before biting gently. The sound that tore from you was so filthy he groaned again, dropping both hands to grasp your forearms.

“Frankie, fuck, don’t stop,” You were tugging at his shirt, and despite your request, he had to move back slightly to pull it over his head, his bare chest revealed to you and even though you’d seen him shirtless before, the intimacy of this time, of finally being with you after so long, made him self conscious. If you saw anything you didn’t like, you didn’t show it. Instead, you bit your lip as your hands tentatively roamed across his chest, trailing over his stomach lightly enough that he shivered. When you spoke next, you yet again took Frankie completely by surprise, your brows furrowing as your expression became more than just hungry, “Mine.”

You whispered it, but to Frankie, it was like you’d just announced it to the entire world. The possessive edge wasn’t lost on him, no, it shot straight to his core and snapped the final cords of his restraint.

“I should...I need a minute, Sunshine,” Frankie pressed his hands into the wall on either side of you, “I haven’t done anything in a long time, haven’t even cum, I don’t think I can be as sweet to you as I want to be.”

Your lust-blown eyes met his, “Why haven’t you cum?” He could hear trouble in your voice now, the not so careful way you spoke pulling dangerous images in his mind as he stared down at you, his jaw tense. When Frankie made no reply, you pressed your pointer finger to the middle of his chest, your eyes never leaving his as you slowly, lightly, moved it downward, trailing his dark hair. “Is it because you think of me? Are you that amazing that you won’t even let yourself cum because you think it’s wrong to think about me like that?”

A strangled noise was all he could respond with, his hands pressing desperately into the wall. You knew him too well, understood exactly what he’d meant without having to ask. And then you kept talking, and honestly, Frankie was floored at how dirty you suddenly were for him.

“I have to admit, you’re better than me, Frankie,” That finger trailed so slowly, closing in on his belly button now, “I’m not good like you, I think about you all the time. Especially when I touch myself, usually after I’ve spent a ton of time with you and I can’t fucking wait for a second longer. Wanna know what I picture?”

His voice was husky, a warning if ever there was one, “What did you picture, sweet girl?”

You moaned, your finger now closing in on the waist of his jeans, “You, bending me over the couch, that one is a favourite. Or waking you up with a blowjob, swallowing everything you’ve got because I know you taste delicious,” You unbuttoned his jeans now, sliding the zipper down with care, “But I think the winner, the one that always makes me scream your name, is thinking about riding you, Frankie. Climbing in your lap and just-“

Fuck, fuck he couldn’t hold back. He’d told you he couldn’t and yet you wouldn’t shut up and all thoughts of making love to you gently were out the fucking window, Frankie instead growled deeply and grabbed you by the arms, all but throwing you on the bed. You were smirking up at him, your eyes dark with lust and shining with triumph.

“Fuck, sweet girl, you wanna scream my name?” He removed his pants and briefs in one motion, his cock spring up, hard and leaking precum and you licked your lips, giving a little whimper at the sight of him. Frankie grasped himself, pumping his hand a few times as he stood over you, “Like what you see?”

“Jesus, Frankie-you need a new nickname,” You said, eyes glued to his cock, “Catfish makes no sense when you’re walking around with that fucking bat-wait!” He froze in the middle of removing his ball cap, looking at you with concern to see you bite your lip a little shyly, “Keep it on. The hat.”

Warmth spread through him at your request and Frankie replaced the hat on his head, then dropped to his knees next to the bed, his hands running up your thighs as you writhed. At your waist, he grasped the tops of your yoga pants and tugged them down, enjoying the way your body arched when you lifted your hips to help him. The only item of clothing either of you wore now was you in your bra, and fuck were you a sight.

Frankie gazed up at you from the floor in awe, his eyes roving over you hungrily as you watched him, propped up on your elbows. He started kissing up your thighs then, pushing your legs apart and spreading you, his hands kneading your flesh. “Sweet girl, you have such a pretty pussy, better than I imagined.” He moaned, biting into the soft flesh of your inner leg and drawing a whimper from you, “I can fucking smell you already, so wet and ready for me, fuck.”

“Oh god Frankie, please, touch me. I can’t wait anymore, I need you!”

“Told you,” Frankie climbed over top of you, his legs on either side of your body as he reached down and dragged you further onto the bed, his show of strength making you whimper, “It’s been a while. And you walk around here wearing my fucking clothes all the time. You don’t know what you do to me, Sunshine.” He grunted as he repositioned himself between your legs, his hands grasping the backs of them to haul your body against his, his cock pressed painfully against your thigh, “Gonna fuck you, sweet girl.” And with one careful, quick motion he thrust forward and each of you cried out at the pleasure of Frankie filling you.

“Frankie! Oh!” Your legs wrapped around him instantly, urging him as deep as possible as he split you open so deliciously. Once he was fully seated within you, Frankie dropped forward, propping himself on one arm, and cupped your face with his free hand. He looked into your eyes as he started a fast, hard pace, thrusting deep and reeling over how wet you were for him, how perfectly your velvet folds wrapped around him.

“Fuck, cariño, you’re fucking tight,” He grunted, kissing you sloppily as you threw your arms around him, hugging him close, “So tight for me, so perfect making those pretty noises, fuck.” Frankie groaned when you clenched around him as he spoke, “You like it when I tell you how perfect you are?”

“Ye-yeah Frankie, I love it. Oh, fuck!”

You were trembling now, squeezing him each time he whispered in your ear. Frankie kept up a string of praises and filthy words, taking note of the ones that had you gripping him extra hard.

He’d always had a casual enjoyment of dirty talk, nothing over the top, easy enough to shut off if it wasn’t enjoyed by the other person. But something about talking like this to you had his balls tightening that much faster, his thrusts becoming brutal.

Still murmuring in your ear, Frankie lowered his hand to your clit, experimentally rubbing, circling and pinching it to see what you liked. He was going to cum soon, and he’d be damned if you didn’t cum too. Though, as Frankie settled on circling you, both feeling and hearing how this was definitely how you liked it, his worries quickly dissipated when your hips were suddenly bucking up to meet his and you were screaming his name.

“That’s it, let go for me sweet girl,” Frankie’s thrusts were becoming increasingly sloppy as he neared the edge, “Are you-fuck, where should I?” He couldn’t even form a sentence now, he was so close and you were squeezing around him so perfectly as you closed in on your orgasm.

You understood though, your eyes meeting his as you pulled yourself together enough to reply, “Frankie, cum inside me please, please fill me up, pleasepleaseplease-“

“Fuck! H-here you go, perfect little thing!” He roared, dropping his weight over your and growling as he spilled inside you, as you bucked and writhed beneath him and screamed out, toppling over the edge and into oblivion with him. He heard himself cursing in Spanish as he experienced the most intense orgasm of his entire life, his hips slowing to continue to draw it out, still more cum filling you and you were a wreck under him, shivering and moaning.

“Yes, Frankie, yes.” You whimpered, your hands sliding into his hair-knocking his cap off-and tugging at his curls.

It took several minutes to recover, though Frankie had enough awareness to shift his weight so that you could breathe properly. Still hard inside you, he began to kiss you all over, peppering your face and neck before biting a few more marks into your neck, his tongue laving out to soothe. He enjoyed the way you whimpered when overstimulated, twitching when he pinched your nipple over your bra, squeaking his name when he pressed himself as deep inside you as he could one last time before pulling out.

Frankie collapsed on the bed next to you, then quickly tugged you into his arms and kissed the top of your head. His fear began to bubble back up now that the haze of passion was clearing, and he was starting to question every single moment that had occurred since you'd asked him if he was a tits man or an ass man.

What had he done? Was he going to lose you after this? Lose his entire reason for living for one amazing orgasm?

But it was like you could reach his mind, as only a few minutes had passed and then, with a little groan, you pulled yourself up so that you were on your elbow, looking down at Frankie. You took one look at his face and frowned, “That was quicker than I thought.”

Frankie stared at you, “What was?”

“I guessed it would take more than two minutes for you to start regretting this.”

Sighing, he pulled himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed. You followed, but crossed your legs and shuffled next to him. “I meant what I said, I love you,” Frankie explained, rubbing a hand over his face, “I love you so much, so fucking much it hurts. But the idea of messing this up is terrifying me, Sunshine. I don’t think I could lose you, I think it would kill me.”

“Frankie,” You crawled over him, straddling his hips and settling into his lap. You cupped his face firmly, looking into his eyes. Your expression was open, warm and vulnerable and a little incredulous, “You aren’t going to lose me, not ever. I want this-I want you, and everything you come with, okay?”

Though his heart was soaring, Frankie still worried, shaking his head, “I come with a lot of dark baggage, sweet girl. Not to mention the age difference.”

“Jesus, Frankie, do you really think I don’t know what I’m saying when I tell you I’m all in?” You asked him, not waiting for an answer before continuing. “I love you. Can I tell you when I knew?”

Frankie peered at you, his hands coming to hold your waist as he nodded.

“The boys trip.” You stated, using the term each of you agreed upon when referencing his three-week disappearance to Columbia. “When you first left, I knew something was off but I trust you, so I didn’t question it. But then after a few days, with no word from you, I started to really worry,” You paused, momentarily lost in thought, eyes dark now with the painful memory of his absence and the little information you’d come to learn about it since. “Did I ever tell you I booked a ticket to Columbia?”

This caught Frankie off guard because you most certainly had not told him that, “What, are you serious?”

“Yep. Booked it for the day after you ended up calling me. I don’t know what I was planning to do, but I knew you were there and, even if you were dead, I needed to be as well.” You stroked your thumbs over his cheeks, “After you called, and I knew you were alive and coming home, I realized that the way you said it meant you almost didn’t make it home, and I knew you weren’t saying something. I hung up and sat in my room for a minute and it occurred to me that you could have died and I would have never seen you again. That was when I knew it wasn’t just a crush.”

Heavy emotion filled his chest, rendering him unable to immediately respond. Frankie gathered you close and stood, clutching you against him and carrying you into the bathroom. He set you on the toilet before turning to his massive soaker tub and switching it on, fully intending on spending the rest of the night in there with you. When he turned around, you were carefully tidying yourself up. With a grunt, he grabbed a washcloth and ran it under warm water before kneeling in front of you and taking over.

“Why didn’t you say anything? After I came home, I mean.” His tone was light, as he didn’t mean to come across as accusing you of anything-it’s not like he had said anything to you. Good-natured as you were, you simply smiled at him, a little sadly.

“Too afraid, right at first,” You admitted, your eyes fluttering shut as he took care of you with the warm washcloth, “But when you came home you were a fucking wreck, Frankie. You lost your friend, Santi didn’t come back with you either, and Will and Benny had the same expression on their faces whenever I saw them. You saw some shit, did some shit, I don’t know and I’ll be real here, I don’t need you to ever feel like you should tell me what exactly happened. But after the first day you were back, I could see how much it changed you and I thought it would be selfish to tell you how I felt and add more emotional bullshit onto your plate.”

Frankie continued to kneel in front of you after tossing the washcloth into his laundry hamper. For a moment, the only sound in the room that of the tub filling. He stared into your eyes, seeing only how truthful you were being, how incredibly kind. He had never realized how completely he could love someone until he met you.

“I thought about you the entire time I was gone.” He admitted before carefully standing and checking the temperature of the water. He added a bath salt mixture that you’d bought a while ago, claiming it was a gift when really you were the one to use them, locking yourself away for hours to soak because you didn’t have a tub at your place. He shut the water off and held his arms out for you, which you eagerly stepped into and allowed him to guide you both into the water.

Once settled, your back against his chest, you replied. “Your face when you came home, I’ll never forget your expression.” His legs were on either side of you, and you began to lazily trace along his right thigh as both of you fell into your painful memories of his ill-fated trip.

Frankie sighed sadly, “I’m sorry I ever left, Sunshine. I never should have left you,” He tightened his grip around your waist under the water, one hand spread flat across your stomach, “It was just...fuck, everything went bad straight from the start. We had a moment of luck and then it was like nothing could go right. And I don’t know, I’m fucking gutted that Tom is gone, but it’s worse that Santiago won’t come home. He’s like my brother, and he blames himself for everything.”

Frankie knew you had no idea what he meant. You knew he and the guys were former special ops that served together, but when Santi had asked him to go to Columbia Frankie had only told you the basics-the country, who he would be with, that he might not have a lot of chances to call, and that it would be about a week. Santi had picked him up and you had been there to see him off that morning, and his friend had casually referenced a ‘boys trip’ while speaking with you as Frankie loaded his shit in the back.

Of course, you weren’t stupid. You worked with the VA, met a lot of former service members who ended up contracting out their skills after retiring or leaving due to injuries or lifestyle changes. And you knew Frankie, understood him like no one ever had before, which is why as he gave you further details you didn’t flinch or freeze up, you simply listened. When Frankie had gone quiet for a while, you eventually turned to gaze up at him over your shoulder, your cheek on his chest.

“From what I could tell,” You began slowly, your words cautious, “Whatever you did, what happened, you all put it aside to get Tom’s body home to his family. And considering the type of work Santi was doing out there for three years before he came here to ask you guys to join him, I figure you all must have almost died a few times each, probably took out some terrible men along the way.”

Frankie had to bite back his sob, turning his face away from you to stare, ashamed and remorseful at the wall. You reacted quickly, pulling yourself up and turning over, your naked body pressing over his as you grabbed Frankie’s head and gently turned him to look at you. “Baby,” You cooed, your eyes shining with concern, “Don’t do that, don’t hide from me.”

That was all it took. Frankie let the sob out and the relief of it was instantaneous, so much so that he let out another, then another, all while you held him and murmured soft, sweet words and pressing chaste kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, along his jaw. It didn’t last long, he’d cried so many times over everything that had gone down, but this was the first time you had revealed you sort of had an idea of what they had been up to, and you were still supporting him and loving him and it was all very overwhelming.

A short time later, Frankie wiped his eyes and shot you a grateful look, hoping you could sense how much he appreciated you. You settled into the water again, knees pulled to your chest as you faced him and trailed your hands comfortingly up and down his chest. “Sunshine,” He whispered, catching one hand and holding it against his heart, “I love you, thank you for being so fucking incredible.”

He tugged you closer, joining you in laughing when a little water sloshed up over the edge of the tub as you landed against him. You snuggled close and kissed him, your fingers carding into his curls and holding him steady. When Frankie took you to bed that night, there were no pillows between your bodies, not a shred of clothing separating you. He held you close, falling asleep faster than he had in years.

And for the first time in Frankie’s life, he felt whole and complete, like nothing could ever bring him into darkness again, not when he had you, literal sunshine, lighting his existence.

PART TWO

Permanent Taglist:

@mermaidxatxheart @paintballkid711

[heyyyharry]

Till Death (a Halloween one shot)

…in which Y/N and Harry share a flat but he cannot see her.

Warning: DEATH, MENTAL ILLNESS, MENTION OF SU1C1DE AND SELF-HARM (inexplicit). There's a happy ending tho 😬

Inspired by Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride and this song.

Word count: 3.9k

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“Oh, you’re home!” she said as he shut the door and kicked off his shoes. His hair was a mess, his eyes dark and weary. He leaned against the wall and released a long heavy sigh.

“Trouble at work?” she asked. He didn’t answer. He never did. But it was okay. She was used to it.

She watched him trudge toward the couch and slump into it with his head buried in his hands. It was so quiet. It was always quiet here, and most of the time, she enjoyed the silence. After all, it was all she ever knew. But she also liked his laugh and his voice when he talked on the phone. He never talked to her. He was a great listener though, and she liked to talk anyway, so she had nothing to complain about. He never interrupted her, never commented; he only listened.

He rested his head on the couch with an arm over his closed eyes. She sat down beside him, her legs together, her hands on her knees.

“Guess what I did today,” she said.

He let go another long breath.

Silence.

“Alright, alright, I’ll tell ya.” She rolled her eyes, suppressing a grin. “I made a new friend. A bird. I saw him on our balcony this morning. I named him Steve. Can you imagine? A bird named Steve. I think Steve likes me as much as a bird could like someone–”

“Oh, shit!”

She flinched as he jumped to his feet.

“Where are you going?” she asked, slightly worried.

“Shit, I forgot,” he murmured, shoving his fingers into his already unruly hair as he reached for his phone on the coffee table. He sat back down and unlocked the screen. His handsome face was illuminated as he typed something into the chat. She rested her head on his shoulder and stole a glance at the screen, just enough to see who he was texting.

It was that name again.

She’d seen him text this person every day for the last couple of weeks. She didn’t know who they were or what they looked like or if they were male or female. All she knew was that they always got Harry’s full attention.

She thought it’d be rude to read other people’s texts, so she never did even though he would never stop her. Still, it didn’t mean she wasn’t dying to know what they said to each other. She would watch Harry as he talked to the person either on the phone or through texts. And he would always look so happy whenever a notification came and he saw the person’s name.

She bet they talked about more interesting topics, not just birds with human names. That thought alone gave a throbbing feeling in her hollow chest.

Sometimes, when she was with him, she forgot about its absence, which was good, because she wanted to forget.

But whenever she saw his eyes sparkle as he talked to this person, she would remember that there was somebody else out there with that thing in their chest, somebody he could feel and see and hear…

...and love.

Then she would remember what he was, what she was, and what they could never be.

After all, she was dead.

She didn’t remember how long she’d been dead. She only knew that she’d been alone for too long. Time didn’t really matter when you stopped growing older. She was stuck like this. Forever 21, as she would joke to herself. She didn’t know how old Harry was, but he had a job that stressed him out every day, so she assumed he was older than she’d been when she’d died.

She’d been trapped in this flat ever since. She’d watched people move her stuff out and other people move their stuff in. She’d forgotten about her loved ones or if she’d ever had them in the first place. She didn’t have any recollection of the life she’d had. She couldn’t even attend her own funeral. If she’d known that she’d be stuck in the place where she’d died, she would have probably not chosen to die here. She missed being outdoors, seeing new people. She wondered if she’d still be in love with Harry if he weren’t the only person she knew.

Honestly, she had never been in love when she’d been alive. She knew that, because even though the memories ceased to exist, she still would have remembered what being in love had felt like. It was funny, actually. When she’d had a heart, she hadn’t been able to use it, and now that she didn’t, she could feel it every day. Could someone love without having a heart? She didn’t know what love felt like to be sure that this was love, yet she knew that she’d rather spend an eternity with this man than to reincarnate into someone else.

They’d been living together for two years. Before him, there had been an elderly couple and a family of four. They’d been fun and lovely. But Harry was...different.

He was alone like her. She felt a deep connection with him in that way, as it was rare to find a person who appreciated isolation and not let it drive them insane. Almost everyone was terrified of being alone. Harry, however, found comfort in being alone. He always knew how to entertain himself. He read books. He sang in the shower. He cooked dinner for himself. He’d call his family to tell them about his day.

Sometimes, as she watched him talk to his mum and sister, she wished she remembered her own family. Would she still want to be alone if she remembered them? Well, she didn’t want to be alone now that she had him. It scared her sometimes. An attachment was a scary thing when you knew that you’d forever be temporary to the people around you. Like the elderly couple and the family, one day, Harry would leave, and she’d have to get used to new flatmates who would most likely leave again.

But that was for the future. Right now, what they had was enough.

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“I’m seeing someone,” Harry said one day.

Y/N didn’t want to eavesdrop, but she was sitting by the window talking to Steve while Harry was on the phone with his sister. It was the first time Y/N heard him say the person’s name. He was smiling the entire time as he talked about her. Y/N loved seeing Harry smile, so it didn’t matter what made him smile. She just wanted to see him happy.

He told his sister that the woman he was seeing was coming over tonight. He seemed excited. Harry had only ever looked this excited except for when his favourite show came on. That was how she knew he loved this woman as much as he loved that show, which was a lot.

“Can I join you guys tonight?” Y/N asked him when he ended the phone call.

He put his phone back down and looked right at her. If she had a heart, it would combust right then and there. But what she didn’t expect was him marching towards her, thrusting his hand right through her chest and shutting the window. Steve flew away. Harry turned and left.

The place where his hand had been burned with its absence, leaving her frozen as she watched the bedroom door fall shut. He couldn’t feel her, but she could feel much more than a dead person was allowed to feel.

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Dinner was nice.

And so was the other woman.

It was funny how Y/N would refer to her as ‘the other woman’ when she’d been the one getting all Harry’s attention. She was sweet, blond-haired, great smile. She sat at Y/N’s spot at dinner. Y/N didn’t mind as she wasn’t eating anyway, yet it saddened her that she didn’t get to tell Harry her boring stories; the other woman was doing most of the talking.

Harry listened to her and laughed at her jokes. He never responded to Y/N that way. She’d been fine with it before, but seeing how he interacted with someone else made her want to vanish into thin air.

It was the first time in two years that she’d seen another living person beside Harry, and yet she had never felt lonelier.

After dinner, Harry asked if the woman wanted to spend the night and she said yes, so Y/N retreated to her spot – the bathroom. For some strange reason, she found comfort there. She would just get into the empty tub and lie there until morning.

Before Harry had moved in, she’d stayed in the bathroom at night while the living were asleep. Since Harry, she would usually spend the night outside his room. He’d always sleep with the door open and a lot of pillows. She didn’t want to be intrusive, but she’d heard him crying one night. His stepdad had just passed away and she’d stayed with him to keep him company, even though he hadn’t been aware of her presence.

She’d sat beside him on the bed as he’d cried. She’d told him that dead didn’t mean gone, that his stepdad might still be around, or have gone to heaven to get a new better life.

To be honest, she didn’t know if heaven existed for she didn’t get to leave this place, but maybe heaven only existed for the ones who deserved it. She was too good for hell, not good enough for heaven, so she was still here.

That night, as she was lying in the tub, gazing at the shadows of objects cast on the ceiling, she couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d seen at dinner. A happy Harry. A truly happy Harry.

She’d always wondered what he looked like when someone made him laugh so hard he forgot about everything else, or when he blushed because of the things someone said to him, or when he looked at someone like they were the only person that mattered. Now that she’d seen it, it felt like torture.

She would never make him laugh. She would never get to hear him call her beautiful or tell her jokes just because he wanted to see her smile. He’d never get to know her. That was the worst part. It hadn’t bothered her before, and now it was too late to undo her feelings for him.

She didn’t have a heart, but as she lay her palms on top of her chest and shut her eyes, she could feel it breaking.

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Ever since that night, the other woman would come over very often. It had hurt at first, then Y/N learned to get used to it. It didn’t mean it stopped hurting. She’d still feel invisible tears rolling down her cheeks every time they kissed in front of her. She’d spend most of the day avoiding them. It was hard to do so when she couldn’t leave the flat. She’d tried before. She’d tried to follow Harry outside, but the second she stepped through that door, she was back in the tub.

She was imprisoned in her own home where she felt like a guest. She had no one to talk to, and it had never been a problem before but now it was driving her insane.

Sometimes, she even wished that the other woman was dead. It was bad that love made her blind and envy made her cruel. Whenever that malicious thought crossed her mind, though, she’d think about Harry and instantly felt bad about wanting his girlfriend dead. It wasn’t a nice thing to wish onto anyone, especially when Y/N herself knew how overrated death was.

It wasn’t a solution. Just more problems.

And at the end of the day, it shouldn’t matter if she was hurt. After all, she was dead. Dead people couldn’t feel pain. This was just an illusion. Her pain wasn’t real. If Harry lost someone he loved, that would be real. And she’d take all the hurt just to keep him happy. Always.

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Tonight, Harry came home alone.

She asked him what was wrong, knowing he wouldn’t answer. He went straight to the couch and buried his face into his hands. She wondered if he’d forgotten to take his pills again. She’d call them his happy pills. He’d been taking them for a couple of months now. He was always so sad and numb without them. Lately, it seemed like he hadn’t been taking them.

“I wish you’d tell me what’s on your mind,” she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder.

Silence sank in. The heaviness in her hollow chest became too much to bear.

Then, his shoulders began to shake.

He started crying.

She’d seen him cry before, but this time she could feel everything he was feeling. And it was even worse for her because she could not do anything about it. When a person cried, they’d feel better afterwards. There was no better for the dead. Just forever numbness. Forever pain. Maybe she hadn’t gone to hell because this was her hell. What had she done to deserve this?

Whatever. This wasn’t about her.

She wished she could wipe away Harry’s tears and tell him things that’d make him feel better. She felt powerless. There was nothing she could do to help.

She sat and watched him cry for what seemed like forever. When he finally stopped, he took out his phone and texted the other woman.

This time, Y/N read.

They’d broken up. The messages didn’t say why. All Y/N knew was that Harry was madly in love with the other woman. He’d sent so many messages asking her to stay, telling her he couldn’t live without her. And she never responded to a single one.

“Harry…” Y/N murmured.

Harry shook his head gently as if he’d heard it. Then, he got to his feet and padded to the bedroom. The door fell shut, leaving Y/N with the uncomfortable silence that could smother her.

She started pacing back and forth outside his bedroom. Her head swam with half-formed regrets. She wished she’d done something to stop him from getting to know the other woman and falling in love with her. But what could she have possibly done? She was dead. She was a ghost, floating around, haunting this place. She couldn’t keep two living people from falling in love. She couldn’t stop the woman from breaking Harry’s heart.

But that was one thing about not having a heart, you’d hurt twice as much trying to protect a heart that wasn’t your own.

Something crashed.

Glass shattered.

The world stilled for a second as Y/N burst into the bedroom.

There he was. Staring right back at her.

But there was also him. On the floor. The real him.

Those weren’t his happy pills.

“Harry!” she screamed and rushed towards the Harry on the floor. His ghost stood there watching in silence as she tried to wake him. She couldn’t touch him. She could only scream and if he’d never listened before, he wasn’t listening now. “Harry, please wake up...Please wake up…”

She lay her palm on his chest. He wasn’t dead. She could still feel his heart beating. His skin pale and his breathing slowed. Half of him was still fighting to live and as long as the other half didn’t overpower him, he might be saved.

“Who are you?” asked the ghost standing beside her.

She looked up. The other Harry was looking right at her, not through her. This one could see her.

“I’m Y/N,” she said, still in shock.

“Y/N,” he echoed.

She’d heard him tell the other woman that he would repeat a person’s name so he wouldn’t forget it. He could hear Y/N, see her and now he knew her name. Her invisible heart swelled for a second, but then she could feel it, the beating of that living thing under his chest. He was still half-alive. But he wouldn’t be for too long.

“You must hold on,” she told his ghost, panting heavily as she started freaking out. “You can’t...you can’t die...you must...I don’t know....get back into your body before it’s too late.”

“I don’t know how, and I don’t want to,” he said, staring at himself, and then at her. She didn’t like the look he was giving her. It was as if she was an exotic animal and he was a curious child going to the zoo for the first time. “Are you a ghost?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, rising to her feet, trying to avoid his gaze. “I-I died here…”

Silence.

“How long have you been here?”

She shook her head. “I don’t remember. When you’re dead, your memories start to fade. Now I don’t remember anything from when I was alive.”

“So there’s no afterlife?” Harry asked, his voice breaking a little. She looked up and saw him staring at his own body with a pained expression that could be regret. “You just...stay here?”

“I don’t know about the other ghosts, but that’s what it is for me,” she said, rubbing her arms.

“Aren’t you lonely?” he asked.

“Well, not really. I’ve got you.”

Her answer seemed to surprise him. He blinked. “But I couldn’t see you or talk to you.”

She raised a soft smile. “But I could see you and talk to you. That was enough.” Harry was giving her an expression she could not interpret, so she hurriedly went on, “Believe me. Death is overrated. You don’t want it.”

“But what if I do? I lost my job and someone I loved. I have struggled every day for the past few months, so why bother?”

“So you think it’s easy for me?” she asked. “I don’t have a heart, yet I still feel things and I can’t cry and the feelings won’t go away. They’ll still be here when everyone else leaves. Dead doesn’t mean gone but it’s the end of second chances. I’ll never get to celebrate my twenty-second birthday. I’ll never get to graduate. I don’t remember my family or if I ever had one. I don’t get to make friends. I don’t...don’t get to be loved…

“And if that doesn’t sound bad to you, just think about all the people you’d leave behind. Your mum, your sister. You won’t remember them but they’ll remember you. And they’ll have to carry the pain of losing you until it happens to them. I didn’t get to see them one last time because...if I tried to leave this flat, I’d just...just keep coming back here. I’d never get to apologise to them for abandoning them. I regret it every single day. And I don’t want it to happen to you.”

The Harry in front of her was quiet for a moment. The Harry on the floor was struggling to breathe.

“If I die,” he spoke, his eyes meeting hers, “you won’t be lonely anymore. Why are you trying to talk me out of it?”

She took a moment to think. Then, “Because I love you.”

His eyes widened as he parted his lips. He didn’t believe it. For the first time, Y/N could see herself in him. She wouldn’t believe it if someone told her they loved her, either. She thought she couldn’t be loved. That was why she’d chosen the easier way out. It wasn’t easy; she knew that now. So she wasn’t going to let him make the same mistake.

“You think no one cares, but I do,” she said, reaching for his hand. She held it, lacing her fingers with his. “So please hold on. If you fully give up, you cannot be saved.”

He looked at himself and then back at her. “Where did you die?”

A pause.

“The bathroom.”

Sadness set over his features. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said, smiling. “I’ve never been better than I am now.”

“Harry!” shouted a female voice as the front door burst open suddenly and frantic footsteps rushed into the room.

The moment Harry saw the woman he loved, hope lit up his entire face. The woman screamed as she collapsed by his body and pulled out her phone to call an ambulance. She kissed his face and told him how much she loved him, that she was sorry, that she’d take back all the things she’d said, that she wanted to spend many more years with him.

Y/N felt herself losing grip of the other Harry. He started to fade. She tried to hold onto him, but it was no use.

And before he was completely gone, he smiled at her and said, “Thank you.” And she thanked him, too. For seeing her. And not giving up.

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Harry didn’t remember anything when he came back from the hospital. He got back together with his girlfriend, who finally moved in with him. They lasted for two years and their relationship ended on good terms. After that, Harry, now with the job that he loved, started seeing other people and stopped taking his happy pills. He’d got better. He was happy all the time. He didn’t remember his conversation with Y/N, but sometimes she’d catch him staring at the bathtub. She’d pretend that he could see her and she’d smile and wave. Maybe he could, but he didn’t want to freak her out. Who knew?

He moved out of the flat after a few more years. The last night he was there, she’d lay on the floor beside his bed as he slept.

The ones after him were fun. Y/N liked meeting new people. One couple even had a pet and she finally had someone to talk to. Still, sometimes she would think about Harry and wondered what he might be doing now.

One night, while lying in the tub, she discovered a tiny word someone had written on the bathroom wall.

Hello.

She’d been here long enough to know that it hadn’t always been there. She recognised that handwriting. Though she wished she’d found it sooner, it made her happy as she traced her fingers over it and imagined him thinking of her.

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Y/N didn’t know how much time had passed.

But Harry did return.

When he came in, she almost didn’t recognise him. He was an old man in a wheelchair. She’d overheard him talking to his caretaker that he wanted to spend his last days in this flat. He stayed in bed for that whole first week and she’d lie beside his bed and talk to him each night.

He died of old age.

One night, he went to the bathroom and lay down in the tub and fell asleep and never woke up.

She stood in the doorway, watching him.

Then, she felt a tap on her shoulder. When she turned, she saw the same Harry who was young and handsome and wearing the same clothes as the day he’d first seen her.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi,” she said.

Apparently, when you died, you got to choose the age you wanted to be. She’d chosen to be twenty-one, the age she’d died. Harry had chosen to be twenty-four, the age he’d met the ghost girl who had saved his life.

[mgsapphire]

What is love, Hae-in?

I was waiting for all episodes to be released for this particular post, but Hae-in's homework was a gateway for me to talk about it. The different forms of love portrayed in Racket Boys.

Racket boys makes a good point of talking about all the different kinds of love, even if it's not explicitly. And yes, I'm going to be lame and use the greek's types of love, and add some more, because I can.

Philia

gif credit: @deokmis

Without getting too philosophical, philia refers to a love between friends, and it's directly translated as the highest form of love. This is the kind of love the story centers around. And interestingly, the definition of philia doesn't stop there. Aristotle believed that philia could be divided into three separate forms:

A friendship of utility

A friendship of pleasure

A friendship of the good

I found this interesting because the friends navigate between these as the story develops. Mainly with Hae-kang when he first arrives to town. He starts hanging out with the rest of the kids out of a necessity to do so. They needed him and he needed them. That was it.

Soon, as Hae-kang grows fonder of badminton, the boys start sharing a common interest, to which we can add their love for games. They start growing interested in each other, and a deeper connection starts to form.

As they navigate a different set of experiences, a true friendship begins to develop, where they see themselves as part of a whole that must function together.

So, what is love, Hae-in? It's the way your brother and his teammates fight over the silly stuff passionately, and let go of the heavy ones. It's the way they protect each other even when the odds are against them.

Storge

gif credit: @mercurialhigh

Storge often refers to the love between family members, most importantly that which parents give to their kids and vice versa. This one is one of my favorites when depicted in the show, and it also has to do with the nature of this type of love.

Storge often feels unilateral from the parent to the child, and I think it has to do with the fact that the children are often oblivious to the parents' sacrifice. While sacrifice doesn't necessarily mean love, it is noticeably clear that this is the storytelling the showrunners are going for when they depict it.

Hae-kang's mom stopped her athlete career in order to give birth to him, Yun-dam's parents showed him off in the store and bought him his favorite dishes, Yong-tae's dad gives him tonics to make him feel better and buys him a cellphone, and U-chan's dad tries to understand him increasingly every day.

On the other hand, we can also tell how much the kids love their parents, Hae-kang often hides his pain in order to not worry his parents, Yun-dam tries his best at everything in order to make his parents proud, Yong-tae knows everything about plants just like his dad, and U-chan tries to please his parents. The girls too, try to show their affection to their parents in the best way they can.

So, what is love Hae-in? Is the way your brother, dad and you all sleep with their arms raised. It's the way you can all find comfort in each other, and it's the way they all tried their best to explain to you what love was.

Xenia

gif credit: @uppoompat

This is known as hospitality love, in Greek mythology, it was portrayed as helping a stranger would grant you blessings. Close to christian's belief of "love thy neighbor". This is my favorite portrayal in Racket boys, as the community via this kind of love develops in one more similar to that of family. It started with Hae-kang and Hae-in arriving in town and being welcomed by the elderly, with Hae-kang's bad curry, with the village chief hospitality, and it developed into a lovely mural, a community effort to cheer each other on, and a funeral that was closer to a party.

So, what is love Hae-in? It's the way the city people found their will to live in helping those in the small village they came to die in. The way your brother's curry accidentally showed them love, and the mural showed their gratitude toward the community.

Philautia

Gif credit: @mostlyfate

The love of self in here has been portrayed as both good and bad. Hae-kang is the biggest example of this duality, at first, he was overconfident, and lead to him losing a few games. Then, he started both training and still being confident in his skills, making him unstoppable in his quest for success.

Other characters also manifest this love. I think another example is In-sol, who knows what his worth is, and that's why he strives hard to be better at everything.

While Se-yoon is very good at what she does, I don't think she has found her self love quite yet, as she puts the sport and others opinions of her above her own health and needs. It could be argued that Hae-kang is the same, but Hae-ckang doesn't necessarily win to keep others satisfied, which Se-yoon feels is something she must do.

So, what is love, Hae-in? It's the way your brother constantly strives to be a better version of himself, the way each one of the team members know their worth despite losing or winning. It's the way your mother is so confident.

Eros

gif credit: @uppoompat

While romantic love is not very prominent in the story, we can still see it with the city couple, Hae-kang's parents, and the exploration of a love different than those of friends that Yun-dam and Ji-won experience, along with Hae-kang and Se-yoon.

The city couple are the biggest example of a passion for each other, no matter how calm and odd they may be on the outside. They are always taking the other into consideration, and seem to be such an extreme version of passionate love that they seem to be unable to live without the other.

With the teenagers crushes, we can also see how they navigate this change from merely a philial love to that that is more erotic. Of course, they can coexist, but when you start approaching the realm of eros, new feelings can surface, such as jealousy, and sense of fierce protection that can overlap with control if one is not careful.

So, what is love, Hae-in? Is the way your father still looks at your mother as if she were the biggest treasure he could ever find. It's the implicit understanding that the gaze of the city couple's hold. It's the way your brother sometimes seems silly.

I could also touch on agape, but I honestly don't know how this particular form of love is approached in the series.

[vaelitis]

SPECIAL 200 FOLLOWERS

Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Thank you so much to all of you, even if i’m not very active due to school work I still managed to hit 200 followers, i’m sending virtual cookies to you all 💞

To celebrate, i’m happy to announce the release of “ One Hell of A Glaze Lillie” Chapter I

Roaming around the once busy streets of Liyue Harbour now lulled in a comforting and peaceful silence, you found yourself bewitched. Your eyes reflected the starry sky while the soothing moonlight, swathed the ancient buildings around the sidewalks of a gentle blue hue.

Never did your irises harboured a hint of boredom as they faced the ever so fascinating sight of this land, no matter how many strolls you took upon those paved roads.

Only your footsteps and the distant swell of the ocean reached your ears, as you let your legs wander wherever they pleased along the city center.

Raising your head slightly, eyes now closed, you took a moment to appreciate the delicate caress of the fresh breeze grazing your cheeks, covering your flesh in a light veil of coldness in which triggered a pleasant shiver to run down your spine.

Liyue never felt cold to you. Even from the late evening, to the moment when the sun decides to lavish the city of its warmth.

Your senses and lungs were filled with the ever so appeasing scent of autumn leaves and spices flooding the entire city, and as you relished in this feeling of pure bliss, a thin smile graced your face when you realized that this moment could be even wondrous in his presence.

Though you quickly put this idea aside, for the poor old grandpa as you loved to call him as such, certainly fell into a deep slumber at this hour. You were aware that he had important duties to fulfil in the next early morning, he told you as much when you came to visit him today, like you always do after clearing your daily missions. The two of you gathering around a warm cup of tea brewed by his careful hands in his office, at Wengsheng Funeral parlour.

Yet, you thought to yourself that it would be far too egoistic, not to share this breathtaking show that the stars were displaying tonight.

The only thing you weren't aware of, was how the same flow of words rolled off his tongue,and how his eyes usually swimming in a pool of warm amber, remained thoughtful as the mystical glow of the moonlight seemed to have cooled their fiery hues.

The lantern rite was in full swing, and that was particularly why you’ve decided to take a refreshing stroll tonight, which apparently lasted longer than expected. Though no wonder, after all, Liyue was indeed a ravishing sight to behold.

Even more so, when the silken whispers of the wind were cradling along with their freshness, the last singing chirps o birds which have yet to succumb into the pleasure of an undisturbed slumber.

How could you not find yourself entranced ? It seemed like the purest assault. Beautifully crafted lanterns made of the finest materials, painting the night sky with their appeasing light like billions of baby sun, reflecting in your bewildered eyes.

You hoped this overwhelming beauty could have engulfed the echoing pleas of your heart. However lately it seemed to find peace in its pace, only by the side of a certain retired Archon.

A bittersweet smile mad its way to your face, lost in thought. There was no point in denying it now was it ? As time passed by, your fondness for him along with the fear of facing your own feelings inevitably grew. At first, you were in complete denial. From the moment your eyes landed upon his majestic stature and charming smile, you swore not to surrender to the sweet temptation named love. Unfortunately for you it is not for nothing that we relate this dangerous feeling to doves, for as freely as the flapping of a wing, love can nestle its flame within the depths of your heart.

So you couldn't help but hear the deepness of his voice swaying among your thoughts, as lanterns floated by you ;

"Have you heard of the origins of the lantern rite ? In the war, long ago, the people of Liyue would release lanterns to remind their soldiers of the way home, and to never lose sight of themselves. Though, I doubt that there are any that remember."

It quite surprised you how easily you registered any trivia (as he loved to call his impressive knowledge as such) he would generously share with you, denouncing how even your mind was infatuated with your recent acquaintance..

A true, amused smirk graced your features this time, as a glint of mischief swirled in your irises.

The guilt of disrupting any of his occupations soon died down and was replaced by the urge of a playful revenge. After all, he was the one invading your every thought...It would only be a matter of fairness, a value that you have soon noticed was the highest in his standards, to invade him in return.

That was enough of an excuse to find yourself right before his front door.

One would have believed such a gentleman to possess more than a simple modest place to live in, yet you were part of the few aware that the great Mister Zhongli wasn't bound by Mora. As such... you grew used to pay for the meals he "treated" you to.

You were also part of the rare ones, to know about his identity. The former overpowering God of War, who has crushed ancient gods under his giant spears made of unbreakable rock, now known as Guyun Stone Forest. The infamous Rex Lapis, who took upon the form of a lordly, breathtaking Dragon, ruling over Liyue that he created with his own hands. Advices full of wisdom that he gained over the span of millennia, were carefully given to the common folks out of everlasting devotion to fairness.

...Yet, he wasn't even able to afford fermented rice balls.

A snort escaped your smiling mouth, not that you actually wanted to suppress it. To say he was the epitome of enigmatic would be an understatement, even if the mysterious aura surrounding him was what inevitably drew you into his world.

Little did you know that, once you get entangled with Zhongli, there is no getting away from him at all.

A sultry, familiar voice interrupted your flow of thoughts. You swiftly looked up, eyes wide, to the source of it.

-" Why is it that..once you finally get a break, instead of taking a rest, you instead come to me?"

Your ears relished in how every syllable that rolled off his tongue were coated in such a voluptuousness. You stopped counting the times you almost fell asleep on the spot while he was calmly reciting his old memories.

There he was in all his glory, leaning against the wooden door frame wit crossed arms. Time had almost stopped, he stared fondly down at yo r timid form, a mix of shyness and excitement bubbling up your chest as your lips stretched on their own.

It was getting more and more arduous to hold his intense gaze, and as your eyes drifted away, he tilted his head to the sid an spoke once more.

-“ Or, is it that you want to hear one of my stories ?”

Your soft chuckle answered his sarcasm

-“ Actually...”

Still looking down, you took several steps forward until you were able to see his own feet.

-“ I honestly just wanted to go stargaze with you.”

I wasn’t supposed to post it now that’s why it is not very long, but i did not expect to hit 200 followers that quickly! 🥺

Rendez-vous to the next chapter 💓