#and i wonder if i’m going to just self-destruct one day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sushiyuzu · 3 months ago

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Hiii, I was wondering if you could make smth with a fem-reader who gets super angry, like destructive when mad bcus she lacks self-control rlly bad (for me I'm mentally ill lol) so when she gets mad her s/o usually walks in to her room destroyed with a crying reader in the corner, especially when she hasn't been taking her meds it ends up like that, and can you do this with Megumi, Yuta, and Sukuna

a safe comfort 🤍

a/n: thank you so much for trusting me with this request! it was my second time receiving and writing a fanfic request, and i truly appreciate the support! please remember to take care of yourself, especially if you're struggling with mental health—your well-being is so important! <3

warning: this story includes themes of mental illness, destructive behavior, and emotional distress. please proceed with caution.

megumi fushiguro

it starts as a small thing, the kind of annoyance you’d usually brush off. but today, something feels different. it’s as if the tension has been building for days, winding tighter and tighter until finally—something snaps. and when it does, you can’t stop yourself.

your hands are trembling as you shove the lamp off your nightstand, the crash of broken glass loud in your ears. the sound echoes in your head, but it doesn’t register—not really. you’re already grabbing at the books on your desk, hurling them across the room as frustration wells up inside you, fierce and unrelenting.

the anger takes over everything. it’s all-consuming, suffocating, like a weight on your chest you can’t escape. and when it’s over, when the room lies in ruins around you, you’re left standing in the middle of it all, gasping for air, your hands still shaking as the reality of what you’ve done hits you.

you drop to the floor, curling into yourself, the tears coming fast and hard. shame burns deep in your chest, the guilt crushing you as you try to breathe through it. you don’t want to be like this—you don’t want to be the person who destroys everything.

you don’t even notice when megumi walks in. he’s always quiet like that, slipping into your space without making a sound. but you know he’s there when you hear his voice—soft, steady, calm.

“hey,” he murmurs, and the sound is so gentle it makes your chest ache. “it’s okay.”

you can’t bring yourself to look up at him, too ashamed of what he must be seeing. you’re a mess. the room’s a mess. but megumi doesn’t seem to care. he steps carefully around the broken glass, the scattered papers, and kneels down beside you without a word.

for a long moment, he doesn’t say anything, just sits there with you, his presence grounding you in a way that nothing else can. his hand hovers near your shoulder, not quite touching, as if he’s waiting for permission to get closer.

“i’m not going anywhere,” he says softly, his voice filled with quiet reassurance.

you finally lift your head, and the moment your eyes meet his, the tears come faster, harder. you choke on a sob, unable to hold it back any longer, but megumi’s arms are around you before you can even process it. he pulls you into his chest, holding you close, and for a second, you forget about the wreckage around you.

his grip is firm but gentle, his hand running through your hair in soothing strokes. he’s not one to overwhelm you with words—megumi knows that sometimes silence speaks louder. instead, he just holds you, letting you cry against him, offering a quiet strength you can lean on without fear.

“we’ll figure it out,” he says after a while, his voice steady, like a promise. “whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together.”

you know he means it. with megumi, there are no empty promises. just the quiet certainty that no matter how bad things get, he’s going to stay by your side. and somehow, that makes it a little easier to breathe.

the minutes stretch into what feels like hours as you sink into his embrace. with every ragged breath, you can feel the tension start to dissolve. megumi’s warmth envelops you, a safe haven amidst the storm of emotions raging inside.

as the tears slow, you begin to notice the little things—how his heartbeat thrums steadily against your ear, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air, the gentle way he holds you as if you’re something precious. it’s a comfort that seeps into your bones, reminding you that you’re not alone in this chaos.

“i know it feels overwhelming right now,” he says, his voice low and soothing, “but it doesn’t define you. you’re stronger than this moment.”

you nod against him, trying to internalize his words, but the guilt still lingers like a shadow. “i don’t want to be like this,” you whisper, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“i know,” he replies, pulling back slightly to look you in the eye. there’s a determination in his gaze, a fierce protectiveness that makes your heart swell. “and you’re not. we’ll find a way to help you. just take it one step at a time.”

he wipes away the tears on your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his touch featherlight yet grounding. in his gaze, you see understanding—an unspoken agreement that you don’t have to carry this burden alone. with megumi beside you, it’s easier to believe that healing is possible, that you can face whatever darkness lies ahead.

as you sit there, the room still in disarray, you realize it’s okay to be broken. it’s okay to ask for help. because with megumi by your side, you know you have a safe space to fall apart and rebuild. you’re not just a collection of shattered pieces; you’re a person, and that person deserves love and understanding—even in the midst of chaos.

“thank you,” you murmur, feeling a glimmer of hope rise within you.

“always,” he replies, a soft smile breaking through the worry etched on his face. “now, let’s clean this up together, okay?”

you nod, and for the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you can find your way back to yourself.

yuta okkotsu

the anger hits you like a tidal wave, sudden and overwhelming, and before you know it, everything around you is falling apart. you’ve tried to hold it back—tried so hard—but the frustration is too much. your hands move on their own, knocking over anything within reach, the sounds of things crashing to the floor blending together in a chaotic blur.

you don’t realize how far you’ve gone until the room is a disaster—books torn from the shelves, clothes scattered across the floor, furniture tipped over in your frenzy. it’s only when the last bit of anger burns out that you see the mess you’ve made, and with it comes the crushing guilt. the shame.

you collapse to the floor, pressing your palms to your face, hiding from the destruction you’ve caused. your heart races in your chest, your breathing uneven as the tears come, slow at first, then uncontrollable.

you don’t hear the door open, don’t realize yuta’s standing there until you feel a presence near you. when he speaks, his voice is so soft, so filled with concern, it breaks your heart.

“hey,” he calls your name gently, kneeling in front of you. “what happened?”

you can’t answer him, can’t even look at him. the shame is too much. you’ve done this again—let yourself lose control, let everything spiral. yuta doesn’t push you for answers, though. he just watches you for a moment, waiting for the right time to step in.

“it’s okay,” he whispers after a while, reaching out carefully, his hand brushing against your arm in a tentative gesture. “i’m not mad. i’m just... worried.”

his words hit you in a way you didn’t expect, and before you know it, you’re falling into him. yuta catches you easily, pulling you close to his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively. he’s warm, gentle, his hands soothing as he rubs slow circles against your back.

“we’ll get through this,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice steady. “whatever’s going on... we’ll handle it together.”

his embrace is firm, but never overwhelming. he holds you just tightly enough to make you feel safe, his chin resting on the top of your head as he lets you cry into his shoulder. yuta’s always been like this—soft, gentle, never pushing too hard but always there when you need him most.

“you don’t have to be afraid of this,” he adds, his voice low. “we’ll take it one step at a time, okay?”

you nod against him, even though you still feel the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. but with yuta’s arms around you, the world feels just a little bit less overwhelming.

as you pull away slightly, just enough to see his face, you can’t help but notice the concern etched in his features. his eyes search yours, looking for any sign of reassurance. “you didn’t have to hide this from me,” he says softly, brushing a thumb across your cheek, wiping away a tear that has slipped free. “i’m here for you, no matter what.”

the sincerity in his voice ignites something inside you—a flicker of hope amidst the storm of despair. “i just... don’t want to be like this,” you admit, your voice trembling. “i don’t want to keep losing control.”

“it’s okay to feel angry sometimes,” he reassures, his expression unwavering. “but you’re not alone in this. you don’t have to handle everything on your own.”

you take a deep breath, allowing his words to wash over you. it’s a reminder that while this moment feels insurmountable, it doesn’t define you. yuta doesn’t judge you for the chaos you’ve created; instead, he’s offering a lifeline, a way to navigate through the darkness together.

“let’s clean this up,” he suggests, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “but first, can we take a minute? just to breathe?”

you nod again, grateful for his understanding. yuta guides you back to the corner of the room where it feels a bit safer, sitting beside you on the floor amidst the wreckage. he takes a moment to simply breathe with you, matching his inhale and exhale to yours. in those shared breaths, you can feel the tension begin to ease, even if just a little.

“you’re strong, you know,” he says softly, looking at you with such intensity that it warms your heart. “even when it feels like everything’s falling apart, you’re still standing here. that means something.”

his words wrap around you like a warm blanket, grounding you further. you manage a small smile, a flicker of gratitude in your chest. “thank you for being here.”

“always,” he replies, the sincerity in his voice bringing a sense of comfort. “let’s start with one thing at a time. how about we pick up the books first?”

you both begin to clear the room together, moving through the remnants of your outburst. with each item you return to its place, you feel a little more in control, a little less lost. yuta’s presence is steady by your side, and as he laughs softly at the absurdity of some of the mess, you can’t help but join him.

“what a tornado you’ve created,” he teases gently, picking up a shirt and throwing it playfully at you. “it looks like a fashion disaster.”

“hey! don’t make fun of my style,” you retort, a laugh bubbling up despite the heaviness of earlier. the sound feels good, like a small victory over the lingering despair.

“i’d never!” he exclaims, mock-indignant. “your style is unique, and it needs to be respected.”

as you work together, the atmosphere shifts. the heaviness that had settled in your chest begins to lift, and with yuta’s playful banter, you start to find a lightness you thought was lost. you realize that even in moments of chaos, you can create something beautiful—like the bond you share with him.

once the room is tidied up, yuta turns to you, his expression serious again. “remember, it’s okay to ask for help. i’m just a call away, and you don’t have to face anything alone.”

you look at him, your heart swelling with gratitude. “i really appreciate you, yuta. for everything.”

“anytime,” he replies, reaching for your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “let’s take care of each other, okay?”

as you sit together in the aftermath of the storm, you know that with yuta by your side, you’ll find a way through whatever challenges lie ahead. the world feels just a little bit less daunting, and that’s more than enough for now.

ryomen sukuna

it happens fast—too fast for you to stop it. one moment, you’re pacing around the room, frustration boiling inside you like a pressure cooker, and the next, your hands are smashing into everything within reach. you’ve never been able to control it, this anger that builds and builds until it spills over, consuming everything in its path.

furniture crashes to the floor, papers scatter across the room, and the sound of breaking glass rings in your ears. you’ve wrecked the place, torn it apart with your bare hands, and now, standing in the aftermath, all you can feel is the hollow emptiness left behind.

your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, tears blurring your vision as the weight of what you’ve done settles in. you sink down to the floor, curling in on yourself, the world around you too much to handle. the anger is gone now, but the shame remains, thick and suffocating.

then you hear him—sukuna. his voice cuts through the silence like a knife, sharp and unmistakable.

“well, well,” he drawls, his tone laced with amusement. “look at the mess you’ve made.”

you flinch, expecting the worst, but when sukuna steps into the room, there’s no mockery in his eyes. he surveys the damage with a raised brow, but instead of berating you, he simply smirks, as if he finds the whole thing more fascinating than anything else.

“you always did have a flair for destruction,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “but this... this is something else.”

you don’t respond. you can’t. the shame is too heavy, too overwhelming, and the last thing you want is for him to see you like this. but sukuna doesn’t leave. instead, he walks over to you, his boots crunching against the broken glass, and crouches down in front of you.

he tilts his head, his red eyes gleaming with something almost like curiosity. “are you done?”

you nod, though it’s barely a movement. your throat is tight, your eyes stinging with unshed tears, and sukuna just watches you for a moment longer before sighing. without another word, he reaches out and pulls you into his arms, not caring about the mess around him.

you’re too tired to resist, too worn out to push him away, and sukuna just holds you there, his grip firm but not painful. there’s a warmth to him, a strange sort of comfort in the way he wraps his arms around you, despite his usual roughness.

“you’re a disaster,” he mutters, his tone teasing but not unkind. “but i suppose you’re my disaster.”

you don’t know why, but his words make the tears come harder, and before you know it, you’re sobbing against his chest, your body trembling with the force of it. sukuna doesn’t shush you or tell you to stop. he just lets you cry, his hand resting on the back of your head, his fingers gently tangling in your hair.

“let it out,” he says, his voice soft now, quieter than you’ve ever heard it before. “you’ll feel better after.”

and somehow, with him holding you, the world feels just a little bit less chaotic. sukuna may not be gentle, but in this moment, he’s exactly what you need. the weight of his arms around you, solid and unyielding, keeps you anchored, keeps you from spiraling any further.

he’s not one for soft reassurances or whispered comforts, but his presence alone is enough to ground you. he lets you break down in his arms, lets you be vulnerable without judgment or impatience. there’s something oddly calming about it—being in the presence of someone so powerful, so utterly in control, when you feel like your world is falling apart.

after a long while, when your sobs finally subside, sukuna pulls back slightly. he tilts your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. his red eyes bore into yours, sharp and unwavering.

“feel better?” he asks, his voice low, his expression unreadable.

you nod, not trusting your voice to speak. he studies you for a moment longer before he lets go of your chin, standing up and brushing some debris off his clothes as if none of this bothered him in the slightest.

“next time,” he says, his tone casual, as if offering advice on something trivial, “try not to destroy everything. or at least wait until i’m around to enjoy the show.”

there’s a teasing lilt to his words, and despite yourself, despite everything, a small, tired smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

“come on,” sukuna says, offering you his hand to help you up. “let’s get out of here. you need to clear your head.”

you hesitate for only a moment before taking his hand, and he pulls you up effortlessly. as he leads you out of the wreckage of your room, there’s a strange comfort in knowing that, for all his arrogance and rough edges, sukuna’s still here—still willing to stay by your side, no matter how many times you break.

and somehow, with him, that’s enough.

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zkaus · 7 months ago

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At the back of my copy of The Vampire Armand, there's an old interview with Anne Rice talking about creating that novel. I've never forgotten her answer to one of the questions... It haunted me for years.

It gives incredible insight into how and why she wrote such beautiful, brutal and broken characters, and what she endured in the creation process.

BUT before you read this, I'm going to STRONGLY warn you, it goes to very very DARK places

Q: What are your work habits for a novel?

A: Once I truly begin to write, I work obsessively, in twelve-hour days, punctuated by days of long sleep and vivid dreaming. Starting time and ending time are no longer important. I might begin at 9 A.M., or after noon or at eight in the evening. I go from there. I turn on the computer and write, write, write.

My room is a mess. Notes are scribbled on the walls so that I can look up at them at the appropriate moments and insert the date, the name, whatever, when I need it. Books are stacked so high that people have to search for me when they come into the room. Opened books with marked-up pages are stacked on top of one another.

I become suicidal. I go through a horrid despair some time or other before the final page, during which everything seems meaningless—from the dawn of history to the very hour in which I am writing.

I’m intolerable to live with. But I spread myself thin over a number of loved ones and staff members so that no one person has to put up with how intense, hysterical, and miserable I am.

When I get elated and talk fast and furiously about wonderful aspects of history or the characters, or good developments in the story, people run away from me. I don’t blame them.

While the novel is being written, I try to avoid dressing for outdoors. No one can make you go out if you don’t have shoes on. Not even in the south. I wear long velvet robes and soft velvet slippers. I refuse to go out. All food is brought in. I eat hamburgers because they are easy to hold with one hand while reading and holding the book with the other hand.

In the middle of the night I read, sometimes on the carpeted floor of the bathroom, just because it’s warm. I am wretched. I don’t care anymore about being abnormal. Writing is everything. Everything. It seems impossible to write the book. It seems impossible to lift a hairbrush to brush my hair. But I do it. I put on mascara every day that I write.

This period of intense work lasts about six weeks. It’s best that way. My imagination is overheated, and my memory clogged with data of varying importance. If I go over six weeks, I begin to forget things; I feel the loss of intensity and information and I become all the more self-destructive and obsessed.

The end of the book is a big event for me. A big event. I start screaming. I put the hour and the date at the end of the last page. I expect everybody to understand, at least a little. It’s a triumph! The darkness of destiny has been driven back for a brief while. I celebrate. I scream, eat chocolate, and sleep.

Right near the end of writing The Vampire Armand, I realized I had to return to Italy, especially to Florence, and at once I began to make preparations for the trip. As soon as the novel was finished and off to the publisher’s, as soon as it could be accomplished, I flew to Italy. That gave me hope, a way out of a life threatening darkness that often follows the climax of a book. But I still ate chocolate and screamed.

While writing, I don’t want to rest. I don’t want to sleep. Why sleep? It seems stupid, except when weariness overcomes me like a giant cloud of poisonous vapor. Then I sleep fifteen to twenty hours. I tell people to go in and out of the bedroom and ignore me lying there, as if I were dead. I won’t talk on the phone. I won’t open my eyes if I don’t have to. I dream terrible, upsetting dreams.

I want to kill myself. But I can’t. I can’t do it to other people, and I have work that must be done, novels that must be written. So I don’t kill myself. Besides, I don’t think it’s good to kill oneself. It’s a horrible idea. It has a horrible effect even on acquaintances.

I think a lot about people I loved who are dead. I think of how dead they are, year after year, ever more dead.

#interview with the vampire #anne rice #the vampire armand #the vampire chronicles #iwtv #the vampire lestat #louis de pointe du lac #interview #tw: sucidal thoughts #mental health #writing

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madi-writes-things · 7 months ago

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Making The Bed (Johnie Guilbert X Reader)

Summary:

Pushing away all the people that know me the best…

Word Count: 1,415

TW: Passing Out, ED, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Self Deprecation, Self Destructive Thoughts and Actions, Avoiding Foods, Parties, Drinking, Johnnie Being a Supportive and Good Boyfriend, platonic!Jake Webber

A/N: this has been in my drafts for like three months. Sorry if it seems rushed or anything, I fell asleep halfway through writing it and finished when I woke up. 🫶

“”“”“”“”“”

Y/N’s POV

I stand in the bathroom, obsessively typing the calories from the meal I just ate into the calorie counter that I promised I wouldn’t redownload. I didn’t mean for it to get like this again, but here I am. It just started as a few missed snacks, which turned into meals, and it all snowballed into daily weigh-ins and days with no food. I stop by the mirror for a moment, and I regret it immediately… the second I see myself, I feel my stomach churn.

The worst part of this is the lying to the people close to me… I don’t push them away on purpose, it just makes it easier. On days where I don’t see Johnnie much, I’m able to go the whole day without eating. I know that he’ll find out eventually, but I can’t let it be now.

In an ironic way I find it funny how people on the internet find out what you struggle with, and do their best to make it worse. The only reason that I started skipping snacks, was because people started commenting on my weight gain. It’s not the people who praise me for looking healthier, the issue is the people who spew my worst fears in the comments.

I know in the back of my head, that I will lose everything I’ve worked for if I don’t stay skinny. Johnnie won’t want me, Jake won’t chose me over him, Tara won’t want someone like me as a friend, my fans will get tired of me once I’m not interesting to look at, my family wo-

I hear Johnnie lightly knock on the bathroom door, pulling me from my doom spiral. “you okay in there babe?”

Shit.

I quickly wipe my face off, leaving no trace of the tears that were spilled. “Yeah! Be out in just a second.” Sometimes I wonder if he knows, and he’s happy that I’m losing weight. No. He’s not like that.

“”“”“”“”“”

I think Jake knows…

He stared me down after making me lunch. I think he was trying to see if I actually ate it. He made pasta, and I cried in the bathroom for thirty minutes after leaving the table. I saw him staring at me anytime we were in the same room after that.

Now I’m climbing into his car with Johnnie and Tara, headed to an influencer party. I’m wearing a cute Tank + Cropped Hoodie with skeleton hand’s bedazzled on the tits, and a pair of high waisted jeans. I knew that going out was a bad idea, but I have to stay under Jake’s radar… if he says anything to Johnnie, I’m done for.

I offer to be designated driver when we pull up, there’s no way I’m drinking tonight. One shot of vodka is nearly 100 calories, and vodka is the lowest calorie alcohol I’ve found. Everyone agrees pretty easily.

“”“”“”“”“”

The party has been going on for hours, and all of my friends were pretty tipsy at this point. I decided to go sit with Tara a little bit ago, and now we’re talking about her latest hookup. “He was literally so pretty… and his dick was huge!” She nearly falls over laughing at my reaction. I tell her I’m going to grab a water from the cooler, and find the guys so we can head out.

The second I stand up, everything goes blurry for a second. Shit. I don’t think I’ve had anything to eat since Jake made me, and that was like three days ago. I reach out and steady myself on Tara’s shoulder, as she asks if I’m okay. I mutter a quick yes, as I start walking away. It’s takes a second for my eyes to focus again, but most people just seem to assume I’m drunk.

Once I find the guys, we head out. My head is pounding, and all I want is to get home and go straight to bed. Once we finally get to our room, Johnnie holds me tight in his arms as we drift to sleep.

“”“”“”“”“”

The party was two days ago, and while I know I shouldn’t, I took advantage of everyone’s hangovers. I still haven’t eaten or drank anything other than water. Every morning I wake up lighter than the day before, and I’m not risking gaining any weight at this point.

Today is different, Jake and Johnnie are wide awake. The guys have been filming all morning, and they asked me if I wanted to join them in a video… I obviously agreed. I’ve missed my boyfriend, and I doubt he’d notice anything while we’re out at target.

“”“”“”“”“”

We stopped at three different targets before finding one that would let us film, totaling about an hour and a half of driving around. We’ve been walking around this target for a while, but the lights are too bright and I can’t seem to make my brain work hard enough to figure out how long.

I’m standing in the board game isle when it happens. I see Johnnie’s face fall when he sees me. “Babe, are you okay? You look really pa…” I don’t even hear the full sentence before everything turns to static.

“”“”“”“”“”

Johnnie’s POV

It all happens so fast. One second we’re laughing at something stupid, the next second Y/N has gone completely silent. “Babe, are you okay? You look really pale.” Then it happens. I watch as her eyes roll back into her skull.

Shit.

I barely move fast enough to stop her from hitting her head on the ground. “Jake! Go get some juice and a granola bar.” He practically drops the camera before breaking into a sprint across the store.

nononono… how long have I missed this? It all starts clicking into place… the long bathroom breaks after meals, the pulling away, the way she offered to not drink. Jake returns within 30 seconds, and Y/N starts to stir in my arms.

“”“”“”“”“”

Y/N’s POV

Everything feels like static… I think my eyes are open, but I still can’t see anything. I reach up, and my hand graces something, it takes me a second to register that it’s my loving boyfriend. I mutter a quick apology, and I hear him talking to someone but it’s so muffled. I don’t know how long I lay there before I start to regain feeling in my body. I can’t tell if I’m shaking, but I feel like I’m having a seizure or something.

once I’m able to sit up on my own Johnnie hands me a juice box and a granola bar. I can see Jake sitting across the aisle, also sipping a juice box. They wait until I’m done with my snack before talking. “Baby, I need you to be honest… when is the last time you ate?”

Shitshitshitshit. “I had lunch with Jake.” I try to sound confident, but my voice is shaky. I see Johnnie look across the aisle at Jake, questioning whether I was telling the truth.

“Y/N… that was almost a week ago.” He looks at me with a nearly indecipherable expression, but I know it well. Pity. “Is that really the last time you ate?”

Seeing how worried my they are breaks me. I only allow myself to break down because we are in a fairly secluded area of the store. Johnnie pulls me into his arms, kissing the top of my head. We stay like that for a while before heading home.

“”“”“”“”“”

Three Months Later

That day was a massive wake up call. Johnnie let me take a nap when we got home, while I slept they assembled friends and family. When I woke up they held an intervention. They gave me the choice to Go to an inpatient treatment, or try to get better at home… I chose getting better at home, scared that nobody would wait for me.

That night we worked out a plan. Johnnie made me a meal plan full of foods that I felt safe eating, we threw out the bathroom scale, and we deleted the calorie counter. It wasn’t an overnight change, but I had amazing support from the people around me.

Johnnie is truly the man of my dreams. He never stops telling me how much he loves me, and reassuring me that he would never leave me. He is the reason I wake up in the morning, and I know that he will always be there.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann @jnkvivi @stasiesturn

@h3arts4harry @slutforsturniolos

#madi writes things #ED!Reader #jake and johnnie #johnnie and jake #johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnny knoxville x reader #hurt/comfort #angst #tw: ed

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asherthehimbo · 4 months ago

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Listen to my music, listen to your heart

previous | fifteen : the sun is still a star, no matter the time of day| m. list | next

notes: warnings, death, grief, domestic violence, physical abuse, verbal abuse, injuries (broken arm plus some bruised ribs), overworked kid, homophobia, mentions of religion, not too much though, bestings, sibling hate, love, self doubt, brief mention of starvation, this is a dark one guys, we HATE mr. Lee trust.

word count: 8. 4k

The two boys sit on the picnic blanket in the shade of the big tree in their favorite park, little snacks and toys littered around them as they play. The elder of the two silently making a bracelet out of flowers he’s collected as the younger plays with the sunlight. Hand moving in and out from the shade as he giggles. “Warm” he says as his hand is extended, before retracting it back into the shade of the tree “and cold!”

“Are you having fun with the sun Channie?” the older boy giggles as he looks at his friend briefly before focusing back on the creation in his hands. “Yeah it’s really fun! Like when my hand is outside the shade it's warm, but when it's inside it's cold again! Come on Bubbles, try it!” Chan's hand reaches for [Name]’s before pulling it out into the sun and retracting it again. “See? The sun keeps us warm!” Chan says as he drops [Names]’s hand. “Mhm, the sun keeps us warm, but too much of it can also hurt us yaknow?” he says softly.

“So? It’s pretty and makes me feel nice! It’s not hurting us on purpose! The sun is nice! It’s like you!” Chan smiles at [Name]. “Like me?” [Name] asks softly as he looks at Chan surprised. “Yeah! It's warm and cozy like when you hug me! And it makes me feel nice like you do when you compliment me! It also makes it light outside like when you help me through the dark hallway’s on sleepovers, and it’s pretty and bright like when you smile!” Chan's words are like an arrow right through [Name]s heart. The six year old is pretty mature for his age, and he thinks that the warm feeling blossoming in his chest now is similar to what they call love in the movies.

“Hm.. so I’m your sun?” [Name] asks as he looks at Chan smile, Chan nods his head and [Name] speaks again, “Will you be my moon then?” Chan tilts his head confusedly “Yaknow being my light in the night? Something that stands out in the dark sky?” At the elders' words Chan nods his head excitedly before reaching out his pinky. “Let’s promise!”, [Name] interlocks his pinky with Chan before striking out his thumb as Chan connects their thumbs. “It's locked in!” [Name] giggles.

Poor kids, didn’t they know? The sun may be bright but it’s burning everything around it, it’s overheating and burning itself with no way of stopping. The sun may be beautiful, but so is destruction, truly wonderful that a child's innocence allows them to remain unaware of this fact. At least they can enjoy this wonderful moment, lest it be their last.

—--------------

Stepping up to the door of your apartment, Chan could feel his heart beating out of his chest. His palms sweaty and clammy, his breathing almost erratic as he tries to control it. He’s shifting on his legs as he debates ringing the doorbell. Before he got here his mind was racing with questions so loud he couldn’t even hear the outside world, but now its so achingly silent he feels like he could go insane. He takes a deep breath again before eventually ringing the doorbell, he’s looking down at his feet- he’s not sure if he can actually face you because he knows if he looks in your eyes he’d crumble.

The door opens and he can hear your breath hitch but he doesn't care he does, he walks past you, no greeting audible as he keeps his head down. Walking into the familiar living room before sitting down on the couch, fiddling with his hands. You silently follow him, your mind a whirlwind of its own. You stand before him before you open your mouth “Channie I-” “Don’t just, don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that, not right now. I want answers, I want to know why you didn’t think I was good enough?” Chan finally looks up at you, his eyes are red and brimmed with tears and his lip is quivering. Your heart shatters and you immediately lower yourself onto your knees so you’re eye-level with him.

You gently take his face in your hands and wipe away the tears that fall with your thumb, forcing him to finally meet your eyes, “No, no it's not like that Channie. I promise you it will never be like that. You’re good enough, you’re better than good enough- it’s just. I couldn't be selfish and sacrifice the happiness of everyone around me just so that I could be with you. Trust me I wanted to, fuck I wanted to be with you so bad, I want to be with you so bad but I- Chan it would be so wrong of me. The happiness of you, of my family would be taken away because of that and I can’t bring myself to do that to you, to them” Your voice is barely above a whisper but it’s filled with deep emotion that Chan has never heard from you.

“How? How would us being together influence the happiness of others, of your family? Why do you think it would hurt me?” Chan's lips are wobbling as he speaks, his voice desperate. “It’s a long story Channie I don’t- I don’t want you to see anyone differently because of it. I don’t want to ruin others' perception of what they know by sharing it.” You say sympathetically.

“Please, I deserve the truth, after everything we’ve been through I want to- I need to know” He grips your hands that rest on his cheeks. “I- okay do you remember when we were really young? Like right before Olivia was born, me, Rachel and Lix went to live with my granddad for a while yeah?” You ask softly and Chan nod’s. “Okay so there’s a reason for that, it wasn’t just cause my mom needed some alone time uhm”

At the age of six, bones break as easily as sticks

“And then they stwepped on the wainbow wight?” Little four year old Rachel says to her younger brother who listens intently. Two year old Felix laying on his stomach as he looks wide eyes to his big sister, head nodding at her words, both toddlers are sitting on the soft playmat in the livingroom. Behind Rachel sits the eldest Lee child, gently styling his sister's hair into twin braids to the best of his six year old capabilities. “Okway so then-” his sisters retelling of one of her new favorite Barbie movie is cut short when their mother walks into the room, she smiles softly at her three children as she walks to them, one hand on her back as the other rests on her pregnant belly, her bump just barely visible. “Hm, [Name] dearest we’re gonna go visit Granddad okay? A sleepover isn't that fun?” The two youngest kids start giggling and cheering but the eldest looks at his mother wearily, her smile seems strained and he can see what looks to be a bruise forming around the wrist that's behind her back. “Can you take your siblings upstairs and help them pack for me baby?” her words are directed at the eldest as he nods.

He silently stands up, picking up his younger brother, securing him on his hip before taking his sister's hand and walking out of the living room up the stairs to their bedrooms. He has a sinking feeling in his stomach, it's bad and dark and he doesn’t like it, it makes him nauseous but he doesn't say anything. Instead he follows his mothers orders, wanting to make any and everything easier for her in her current state. After a while as he’s ensured he’s packed everything needed for him and his siblings he walks back down the stars, only now the closer he gets to the living room, the louder he hears the voices of his parents. The sinking feeling gets darker and he feels weak, like he’s crumbling under the shadow monster festering in his stomach, he puts Felix down in fear that he’d drop him. Placing their bags by the stairs and his two siblings next to one another, “Stay here okay? Big brother is just gonna go check on momma” he says softly and after the two nodded he walks silently to the living room.

“YOU CAN’T JUST FUCKING TAKE MY CHILDREN AWAY FROM ME” he hears his fathers muffled voice scream through the door, anger evident. “I CAN’T HAVE MY CHILDREN STAY HERE WITH YOU IF YOU KEEP THIS UP” his mothers voice is desperate, he silently opens the living room door as he looks at them. His father seems frazzled, button up shirt a mess as it's rolled up by his arms, hair sticking every direction as the vein in his forehead pops in the way it always does when he's mad. His mother is practically shaking as she stands on the other side of the couch, in front of the glass coffee table that [Name] knows they’ll have to baby proof again soon once his mother gives birth.

‘KEEP THIS UP? I AM DOING NOTHING BUT CARE FOR MY FAMILY” his father states angrily as he walks closer to his wife. “YOU AREN'T, CARING FOR THEM DOESN'T MEAN HITTING YOUR SON SO HARD YOUR HAND IS IMPRINTED ON HIS BACK JUST BECAUSE HE WANTED TO SPEND TIME WITH HIS FRIEND. CARING FOR THEM DOESN'T MEAN GOING OUT AND SLEEPING WITH SOMEONE ELSE. YOU AREN'T CARING FOR THEM, YOU’RE ABUSING THEM!” his mother screams and her words seem to snap something in his father.

What happens next is almost in slow motion, his father moves forward fast and pushes his mother in a fit of rage, unluckily [Name] is faster as he opens the door and bolts for his mother. Without thinking he gets behinds her, wrapping his little arms around her back as they’re gently placed on her stomach, he feels the table beneath him shatter, he feels the tiny pieces of glass sticking into his back, his head hurts and he think he’s landed wrong because his one arm is bent weirdly. The rest is kind of blurry to him, he hears his father scream, blaming him for being in the way, he hears his mother crying, asking if he’s okay and muttering apologies. He hears the shuffle of little feet as his younger siblings rush into the room, and his only thought is that he hopes they didn’t see anything. That his mother and his unborn sibling are safe.

When he wakes up to a very bright light, his whole body hurts and for a moment his eyes can’t focus correctly, he goes to use his arm as a way to block the bright light but is met with a big white cast. “[Name]? Are you awake my boy?” The voice of his grandpa speaks from his side, but it feels wrong. His grandpa’s voice is always happy and upbeat, loud and able to warm up any room, only now it sounds worried, soft even. He turns his head to his grandfather, ignoring the headache before he asks “Are they okay?” his grandpa looks confused, “Is who okay my boy?” “Mom, mom and the baby, are they okay?” his grandpa's lips seem to draw into a line before he answers, “Yes. Yes, they’re fine, they’re talking to your doctor right now. Everyones here, the Bahngs too, we’ve all been worried for you” [Name] looks at him confused, “what do you mean? Why is everyone here?” he asks as he tries to sit up, wincing at the pain in his ribs.

“Hey hey don’t try to move too much, you've got a few bruised ribs there, your back is pretty torn up too” his grandpa states, and the boy just nods. “You've been asleep for about a whole day my boy, when you were brought in last night you went into surgery for about 4 hours before being put on heavy anesthesia, doctors said your injuries aren’t too extreme so when you wake up and they’ve deemed it safe you can go home, but you do have a concussion, now before your mom gets in here want to tell me what really happened? Cuz I don’t believe the story of your mom just slipping and you happened to be in the way” the boy only moves his face to the other side of the room, he knows he can’t lie to his grandpa but he doesn't want to tell him the truth either. “Now come on-” his grandpa’s words are cut off as his name is screamed and people rush into the room, his mom, then his two little siblings. The little body of his sister jumping onto the bed, despite the pain he chuckles as she hugs him.

“Hey, Rache sweetie you’re hurting your brother” his grandfather states as his mom places kisses all over his face, muttering apologies as his youngest brother is sat by his feet, holding onto his leg. People start slowly shuffling into the room, Chan is first as he rushes to his best friends side and for a moment [Names] eyes light up happy to see his friend, until his father walks into the room and his face drops, he practically ignores Chan as he feels his fathers eyes on him. “Excuse me, I need to do a check up on him now that he’s awake, all this attention isn’t good right now could everyone move out please?” the doctor speaks as she walks into the room, checking some of the machines next to [Name]. A moment of silence passes as the people start to shuffle out without hesitance, “Can uhm- can Grandpa stay?” [Name] speaks softly, the doctor's eyes soften before nodding. “Yeah, one person staying won't hurt,” she replies.

As she checks over him and [Name] answers all her questions truthfully as he sips water for his dry throat he can feel his grandpa’s curious eyes on him. “Can we stay with you when I get out? Only until mom gives birth” [Name] asks his grandfather hesitantly, as the elder man's eyes soften, “Yeah bud, your moms already planned for you three to come visit me for a while, she needs some time, fourth pregnancy is hitting her hard she said” his grandfather replied, he nods his head as he continues to fiddle with the cap of the water bottle in his hand. The next 30 or so weeks would hopefully be calm for him and his siblings, but he doesn't know what will happen after that, when he gets back home. He’s scared of what his father will do.

At the age of ten, you realize you'll never see your childhood again

“Come on Bubbles, let's play!” Chan says excitedly to the older boy as he stands in the doorway of the study room in the Lee family home, Felix standing behind him as the young boy holds onto the back of Chan’s shirt as he looks at his older brother. “I can't right now Channie, I have to study, maybe later?” The elder says as he sits at his desk, books all around him, pens scattered around. His hair has grown a bit longer than it was when he was younger, it’s almost past his ears. Chan groans a bit at the elders' response “Come on you’ve been studying all day” [Name] sighs at Chan's words, “I'm sorry Channie I just need to finish this, I'll be out later okay?” he says softly. Chan’s dejected face breaks his heart but he can’t afford to not study, not after what his father had done to him last time.

“Okay well we’ll be outside then..” Chan says softly as he turns around, Felix following him, not before giving his older brother a little wave and a small smile. They close the door behind them, leaving [Name] alone with his own thoughts. He turns his attention back to the notes in front of him but he can’t think anymore, his vision is blurry as tears line his eyes, the sting of staring at the books all day is giving him a migraine. He leans back a moment, massaging his head, but it doesn't help. His stomach grumbles a bit, reminding him he hasn’t eaten since breakfast but he pays it no mind, he knows if he goes out of this room now his father wouldn’t be happy. Instead he just takes a sip of the water bottle on his desk before sitting upright and continuing his studying. Wiping the tears lining his eyes when they would form.

Time like this passed by quickly, before he knew it the only light in the room had come from his lamp, the sun had set and the moon, at the end of her phase had brought little light through the window. [Name] could no longer hear the giggles of his younger siblings and friends outside. There was some commotion inside the house a while ago, when the family had dinner, he heard voices clearly when his mother had opened the door to bring him food. The warm smile she gave him would've been comforting if not for the sympathy swirling in her eyes. Ever since the accident she had yet to look at him the same, he guesses that's because he had only moved back home recently, only because his grandpa was sick and couldn't care for him alone anymore so they had to move back.

The life he had tried so hard to forget quickly came back to him, and he couldn't stop it. He couldn't tell anyone, that would only make it worse. He thinks his grandfather knows, or at least suspects something, he always does. But the man isn't as strong and happy as he used to be. He can't protect [Name] anymore, but that's okay, this time [Name] will just have to protect him, protect all of them.

He stares at his plate of uneaten food, he forgot about it, and with the anxiety bubbling in his stomach he doesn't have too much of an appetite. Despite his hunger just the thought of consuming the food made him want to vomit. He couldn't do this anymore, just sit here in the silence, his head throbbing with pain as he tries to hold back tears. So he stands up, he opens the door softly, and when he doesn't hear commotion he closes it again, only now he's outside the room of nightmares.

Softly he drags himself up the stairs to his grandfather's room, he walks past the rooms of his siblings as he hears soft giggles echo from them. He wants so badly to stop, to join them, any of them, to laugh with them, but he can't, he can't face them like this. So he continues to walk slowly, opening the door and seeing his grandfather sitting on his bed, back leaning against the headrest as he holds a book, his glasses at the bottom of his nose, he looks up at the door and smiles. Almost as if he's expecting his dearest grandson. He puts down the book, along with his reading glasses and opens his arms.

He doesn't say a word, but [Name] is thankful, he lets the tears that well in his eyes fall as he closes the door, or at least he believes he does. He rushes to his grandfather's side, immediately sobbing as he clings to the elder man. His grandfather's arms around him have always been comforting, the soft flesh surrounding him like a protective blanket. It wasn't like being wrapped in the bony arms of his mother, caused by the starvation his father put her through, when she would cry to him about not being able to protect him. It wasn't like the hard muscle or his fathers arms that would put force behind each beating he received. No, his grandfather was soft, he was accepting.

“Shh., it's okay my boy, I'm here, it's okay you can rest now” His grandfather whispers as he pats the boy's head. “It hurts grandpa, it hurts so much” [Name] sobs as he curls more into his grandfather. “What hurts my boy?” he asks softly. “Everything, my head, it hurts from studying all day, it's so painful. I just want it to stop, everything hurts. My heart hurts, my chest burns. I just want to play with them. I just want to play with him. Why can't I play with him, Grandpa? Why aren't I allowed to?” the little boy's body shakes as he sobs, and it's at times like these that he's reminded this is exactly what he is. A little boy, a child.

“Who is it you wish to play with my dear boy?” his grandfather asks, although he already knows the answer, but the young mind listening in on their conversation doesn't, and his grandfather intends to give him that knowledge. “Channie.. I just want to play with Channie again… I miss him Grandpa, I miss him so much. He's always right there, but I can't - I cant-” the boy can't finish his words as he continues to choke on his own tears. His Grandfather just simply sushes him, rubbing his back in a comforting manner, becoming acutely aware of the bumps or raised skin he can feel through the thin shirt on his grandson's back.

It's a while of this, continuing until the boy has stopped crying, his tears still falling but his breathing is more stable now, his eyes are shut as he drifts off. He's always been a heavy sleeper after he's cried. It's this fact that causes his grandfather to act as he does. “You can come in Chan” he says, and the boy looking through the crack in the doorway yelps at being noticed. He slowly opens the door, eyes only on his sleeping friend. “You knew I was here?“ He asks softly as he walks closer, “I always do my boy” the old man smiles at him.

“Is Bubbles gonna be okay? “ Chan looks up at the elderly male, before looking back down at his friend in worry. “He will be, one day…. but until that day comes I need you to promise me something Chan, can you do that?” Chan nods his head frantically and the old man chuckles. “One day, one day when I'm not here anymore, will you take care of him for me?” Chan looks confused “you're leaving?” his voice is hesitant. “No, no not anytime soon, but one day I might have to… will you promise me you'll take care of him then?” Chan nods again, a smile on his face “mhm! I'll do everything I can to protect him”

“that's good my boy, thank you… thank you for giving an old man some peace of mind”

At the age of sixteen is when you realize the world is awfully mean

It was one of the rare days in the Lee household that everyone [Name] loved was in the same place. His father was gone on a business trip and his mother is currently out grocery shopping, leaving only him and his sibling home alone with their grandfather for the day. Chan had decided to tag along, hanging out at the Lee house under the guise of ‘studying’.

So now, sitting in the big study room, some of his siblings spread out at their own desks around him, some up in their rooms, knowing his grandfather was up in the house as well, he felt at peace. It's a strange feeling for him, being at peace, especially recently. His grandfather's state has rapidly been declining in the last few months, the stress it's put the family in causing his father to act out. Push and punish him more, spend more nights away from home, leaving his mother to mourn the loss of their relationship as it was before.

He hates having to hear his mother cry due to his fathers infidelity, the man so easily breaking the trust of his soulmate, it's broken his belief in soulmates and that brings an empty feeling to his stomach, makes bile crawl up his throat because he's sixteen now. It's about time he gets his soulbond, he tries to push the thoughts away, really he does, but they keep coming back to him. He can't even focus on the pages in front of him.

All he can think about is his soulbond, and the fact that Chan’s music is awfully loud. Like seriously he's sitting across the room and wearing headphones how has no one else asked him to turn down his volume, lest his eardrums burst. “Channie? Your music’s a bit loud, isn’t it hurting your ears?” he asks softly, Felix gives him a confusing look from the side of the room as Chan looks up at him, lifting one of his ear cups off his ears as he pauses his music. “Huh? It’s not that loud though..” Chan mumbles at the same time that Felix says “I can’t even hear it, your ears must be really good Hyung!”. [Name] looks between to two boys, before shaking his head and standing up, “Im- im sorry I think I have have just been studying too hard, i'm going to the kitchen” he shakes his head almost as if he’s disoriented, ignores the worries mumbles of his brother and friend as he walks out of the room.

Something is incredibly wrong as he stands in the kitchen. His half drunk glass of water forgotten as it stands on the island before him, his hands grip the sides of the counter as he feels his head throb, as if spikes are piercing it. Worst of all, he can still hear Chan's music, and he knows that's not right because Chan is in another room, he is wearing headphones, [Name] can still hear his voice as well, this shouldn't be possible. His ears are hurting, it feels like his eardrums are going to burst. He has a burning sensation on the side of his hip, and before he knows it the pain makes his legs give out beneath him.

He sits there on the ground, trying to think, biting his bottom lip, until it starts bleeding, in an effort to keep quiet, an effort to ground himself. He sits on the floor of the kitchen, he doesn't know how long, it must have been at least 10 minutes until the pain in his side subsides, his headache now a dull throb and not blinding pain. He takes a moment to breathe, the music in his head now a soft hum almost like a comforting lullaby. He doesn't know what happened, and he tries to think, think of any and all possibili- oh. oh. As he slightly lifts up his shirt on instinct, looking at where the pain was, he now sees a tattoo. A little music note with the letter ‘C’ written in scarily familiar handwriting. Realization hits him slower than he thought it would. The subtle humming in his head reassuring him.

Bahng Chan is his soulmate. Chan is his soulmate. Channie, his Channie is his soulmate. oh he's so fucked.

Later that night, the moon witnesses that the Sun’s tears are just as bright

Chan has been worried about [Name] since earlier today. It was the small things that alerted him at first, the way [Name] couldn't focus on his work, how he kept rubbing his temples as if he had a headache, his hearing sensitivity seemingly increasing as he could hear Chan's music. Then, he disappeared into the kitchen for a while, before coming back holding a warm water bottle against his stomach, against the side of his hip, Chan lifted a brow questioningly but didn't ask. He knew better by now, [Name] may have been his best friend, he always will be, but as his best friend Chan knew [Name] wouldn't talk to him. Not even if he asked.

It's dark now, Ms. Lee had gotten back, she was busy making dinner in the kitchen, three out of four of her kids around her, when Chan left the kitchen Felix had been talking animatedly about a new game he was playing. Chan had gone to get [Name], who was upstairs with grandpa Lee, as dinner was almost ready.

He had a sense of Deja vu as he walked up the stairs, he neared Grandpa Lee’s room and heard sniffles, ones oddly familiar to him. The door slightly ajar, yet Chan doesn't say anything, he just stands, stands and watches through the little open sliver as [Name] lays in his grandfather's arms.

The scene so eerily familiar, yet scarily different as [Name] is now older, much bigger too, he's grown out of most of his baby face, only a little bit of his immaturity still shown on his face, his hair is much longer than it was when he was young, his shoulders much more broad. Grandpa Lee is much smaller, much more frail than those years ago too, he's lost a lot of weight, an unhealthy amount of it, his eyes no longer bright and full of joy, now sunken in and sullen.

There's a moment of silence, only the soft sniffles of [Name] leaving the room before Grandpa Lee calls Chan in, because of course he knew the younger was there. Grandpa Lee always knows. Chan walks in, and unlike his younger self, he sits next to [Name] the older boy turns in his sleep but doesn't do anything to suggest he's awake. Chan gently brushes the sleeping male's hair with his fingers before looking at Grandpa Lee “what happened to him?... “ he asks, and his voice is trembling, as if he's scared to hear the answer. “Never mind that Chan, do you remember, a few years ago we were all sitting quite like this” Chan nods his head, his eyes still not tearing away from [Name’s] sleeping face, “and do you remember what I asked you to promise me?” Chan nods his head, “Yeah… yeah yeah I promised I'd protect [Name] when you couldn't”

Grandpa Lee takes a deep breath “it was crue of me to ask you such a promise at such a young age… but K know you love him Chan, as more than a friend” Chan's head snaps up, eyes wide “oh don't be so surprised, a Grandpa knows everything….. but Chan, I need you to promise me again, now that you're older, wiser, now that my death is near- ""Grandpa don't -"" It's the truth Chan, we both know it. I need you to promise me again Chan, things have changed, this ask is bigger than what you could be aware of.”

“Me and Bubbles have grown apart a bit.. It hurts and I don't know why it happened. I don't know if he'll ever want me to care for him, to protect him like I want to, but I'll try. I promise I'll try Grandpa Lee” Chan looks back down at the sleeping male, smiling slightly, “I wish his face could always look this peaceful” he whispers, “So do I my boy, so do I” Grandpa Lee gently pats his back.

A few months after, grief only caused disaster

The air was tense, the crowd silent, only sniffles heard among the downturned heads. The loudest sobs coming from the front row where the direct descendants of Grandpa Lee sit. Rachel, clinging to her eldest brother, her face buried in his shoulder as he tries to comfort her, It's hard though, since Felix is right on the other side, mirroring his elder sister's actions. [Name] hugs them close, rubbing their backs gently as their sobs and shaking bodies stick against him. He's not here- not fully, not anymore.

The people around him think it's weird- that he's not crying. He can hear them whisper about the fact that his face has remained stoic this entire time, not a tear or a wobbly lip in sight- he doesn't have the virtue of showing vulnerability now. That's something they don't understand, so he forgives them, it's okay, they don't know. It's good that they don't know, means they won't treat his family differently, means his siblings and mother will be happy. He knows its hard on everyone, his grandfathers death- fuck it feels like his hearts just been ripped out of his chest- his only support taken away without warning but we did warn you [Name] , don't you remember? you knew this would happen.

He can hear the slight sniffles of Chan behind him, but for once he doesn't feel the urge to turn around and comfort his soulmate, instead he wants to curl away and hide from the world, from the cold gaze of his father. His gaze may be stoic, but his fathers is angry- full of rage even and [Name] knows exactly why. He acted out, failed a pop quiz, but can you really blame him? it had happened right after his grandfather died a few days ago and when his father found out- oh boy did he yell. And for once, [Name] yelled back and his fathers anger was not only taken out on him but his mother as well.

His grandfather not being here anymore only solidifies his belief, the belief that he needs to be the one to care for the family now. So he stands up, mid service, gives his father a look and walks out, there are sounds of confusion but nobody dares stop him. He walks towards the church at the far end of the graveyard, it’s empty and he takes a moment to breathe before the hell he knows will break loose.

The air feels thick as it enters his throat, his eyes blurry as he tries to keep away the tears that want to fall. Before he can further clear his mind, a hand harshly grips his wrist, the intensity of the action already alerts him of who the person is as he’s dragged into one of the rooms of the church. He’s thrown into the room as the heavy door closes with a bang, the emptiness of the room causes the sound to echo against the marble tiles.

“WHAT exactly do you think you’re doing?? Running off from your grandfather's funeral after the stunt you pulled- do you WANT another beating??” [Names] father screams as he crosses his arm, glaring down at his son. “Yes” the boy responds in a monotone voice “Excuse me??” his father lifts a brow.

“I want the beating, I want the anger- whatever fucked up punishnment you have to offer, offer it to me. I’ll be your perfect fucking son, be anything you fucking want but you leave my siblings alone- you don’t fucking touch them-” [Names] voice laced with anger drips from his tongue like venom but he still doesnt look his father in the eye, the older man interrupts his son “And who are you to order me around boy?” The last word makes something churn in [Names] heart, not anxiety, not fear, but blinding rage. His father sees him as so little, so weak, and he hates it.

With strength he didn’t even know he possessed, he moved forward, yanking his fathers collar so the slightly taller man would be at his level, “I may not be able to stop you, I may fear you enough to let the abuse continue with myself- but I love them too much to have it continue with them. This boy is the one with the scars and proof to end your entire fucking empire before it reaches its glory. So you listen closely, father, you leave my siblings alone, whatever they choose, whoever they choose- you let them do what they want. You will be a good father to them, you will love and support them. To my mother, you will care for her, you will ensure she’s happy, that she’s the luckiest woman in the world- otherwise I’ll end you myself, using the knowledge you’ve forced upon me I'll end you I swear to God. I swear to God in this church, on this holy land, beneath the eyes of my grandfather I swear your downfall will be worse than that of Samael, you'll have an image so volatile that it stands unparalleled to what Lucifer faces in the eyes of his siblings.” The older man doesn’t speak, he hasn't seen such anger, such determination behind the eyes of anyone, let alone someone as young as his eldest son. But Lee is a ruthless man. An arrogant man who doesn't take kindly to his ego being bruised.

And so, with ease and familiarity he brings his hand up to his son's neck, squeezing until the younger lets go of his fathers collar. “And what do you expect me to do hm? If they disappoint me? How do you expect me to handle that?” he asks almost mockingly, not knowing his son will have a solution. He comes from the blood of his father after all. “I'll take it, I'll do whatever you want, achieve whatever you want- I'll be your perfect plaything, but you will give them a happy life” Despite his constricted breath, 16 year old [Name] glares at his father. He has people he needs to protect, his mother, his siblings, his soulmate. If being away from them, isolating himself and ensuring his father only hates him is what will keep them safe, then he’ll do it over and over again. In every lifetime, hell torture himself for their sake. For what is the value of a star in the daytime?

There's a moment of silence, [Name] refusing to audibly gasp for air as he stares at his father, the pain in his throat burning, within an instant his fathers grip is released. “I must say, your tenacity reminds me quite of myself, son” The older man pats [Names] shoulder as the younger catches his breath, glaring up at his father. “I'll accept this deal, only since you've shown me that I've raised you well.”

Keeping journals is not for the weak, because his sister decided to sneak

[Name] is tired. His back hurts, his whole body aches from the memory of his fathers disappointment, he just wants to fall down onto the softness of his bed and hope the comforting blankets will soothe his aches and not worsen anything. But hasn't it been proven that [Name’s] wishes never come true?

Entering his room, the bland and desolate room, the four walls of his false heaven isolating him from his family. His mother that's seemed happier since the deal was made, Rachel, who seems to hate him now- for reasons he's not sure; Felix and Olivia both busy with their own lives and despite wanting a relationship with their eldest brother not knowing how to create one with the boy who they never see anymore.

Opening his door he can feel something wrong in his room before his eyes fall on his sister reading his journal. Rachel is reaching his journal- the journal he’s been using to keep track of every feeling he’s had since grandfather died- every secret.

In a fast motion he leaps forward, roughly grabbing the leatherbound book from his sister's old as she looks up at him. The look in her eyes is more anger and shock than it is disappointment or sadness, and that makes the back of his mind relax as it means she hasn't read the worst, hopefully not yet.

“Rachel wha-'' His voice is gritted in anger, betrayal that she would invade his privacy, but he doesn't shout. Never, he doesn't ever want to shout at her. “You're Chan's soulmate." She interrupts him, it's not a question, not said in joy, no- she's almost in disbelief. “I-”

“You're his fucking soulmate. AND YOU DIDN'T TELL HIM??“ She's screaming now, and he closes his door as he hurriedly shushes her in hopes of not alerting the rest of their family. “Rachel, please be quiet.'' his voice is desperate and at least she complies. “Yes he's my soulmate, no I didn't tell him and I'm not going to. I can't-” “Can't handle the responsibility of caring for someone? you're a deadbeat brother and now a deadbeat soulmate too?” she quirks her brow, her tone almost expectant now. “Rachel what are you talking about? A deadbeat -” Rachel nods her head “You barely ever fucking talk to us, you don't care for us. Ever since grandpa died you haven't even been a brother to us. You're basically a stranger living in this house [Name].” her last sentence stings, the way she spits his name, no sign of respect or calling him her brother.

He wants to defend himself, really he wishes he could- he wants to tell her how much he wishes to be there for her, how he wants to hug her, to chase away all her worries, to be the big brother he used to be; but the way she looks at him now, it lets him know that those wishes are for not. She hates him, believes him to be no better than a stranger.

She hurts him, but is that not love between siblings? he lets her hate him, lets her believe all the vile things her mind concocts, because at least this means she's loved by his father. “You're pathetic [Name], but U never thought you'd stoop this low” she says before walking out of the room, her shoulder knocking against his forcefully.

His knees want to give in beneath him as his eyes sting with unfallen tears, yet he can't help but be grateful, at least she didn't read far enough to know about the deal. At Least she still has her picture perfect family - even if he feels like he is the one holding the camera.

Right before you depart, he ensures he'll always have your heart.

“Just because you're a big university student now doesn't mean you forget about me, okay? I'll be right behind you next year so don't even entertain the thought” Chan jokes, looking up at [Name], there's a bittersweet tone to his voice and his signature smile is plastered on his face. Yet the way it doesn't reach wide enough to show off his cute dimples, to crinkle his eyes which hold unshed tears make [Name’s] heart ache. He could never forget Chan, never forget the beauty of one he sees as hand grafted by the angels.

“I would never forget you Channie” [Name’s] voice is somber, in a slip of emotion he lets it deepen to its natural tone, rather than the one he's been using to cover up his secret. Chan doesn't seem to notice, too caught up in his own mind- or maybe assuming it's due to the underlying goodbye behind his words. “Bubbles, you're my sun right? you'll still be with me when the earth dies, when the people have rotted away and all that's left are the inhabitable planets of our solar system” Chan asks, his words aren't stated in a questioning tone, it's more directed to himself than the man before him- as if he's reassuring himself. He fiddles with something in his pocket as he rolls on the balls of his feet. [Name] takes Chan’s face in his hands, pushes his thumbs gently into Chan's dimples to make him smile. “Always, the Moon will never be without the sun’s light” The words feel heavy on his tongue as it flows past his lips. Unwavering because he knows it's true, but the glaring stare of his father a few feet away reminds him he can't be as close to Chan as he wants. Just because the Moon is in the Sun's orbit, does not mean they are meant to be, for there are many miles between them.

Chan nods his head in [Names] hands, before taking of his right hand gently off his cheek, “then wear this” Chan says, placing a silver ring on [Names] ring finger “I know your soulmate will eventually put a ring on your left finger when you get married- but I get to have your right” he says cheekily, despite the blush coating his face. ‘You get to have my everything- just ask for it and i'll give you. Please for the love of God ask for it because I need you to want me to love you. I need you to need me the way I do you’

[Name] has never been one to share his thoughts though. “I will Channie- thank you” he twirls the ring on his finger, feelings it's comforting steel against his skin, “I uhm- I have a matching one” Chan says, holding up his right hand, a ring similar to [Names] on his ring finger, only his has a blue moon instead of golden sun in the middle. [Name’s] heart feels like it stops- like the string Chan has just attached to him using these rings is constricting his vital organs ability to keep him alive, the only way for it to start beating is to loosen the string- to lesser the distance because he would never dream of taking off the ring.

So [Name] steps forward, holding Chan tightly against his chest, ignoring the younger's yelp of surprise. He doesn't care about the glare of his father and eldest younger sister, about the teary looks of his younger siblings nor his mothers worried mumbling. Right now as his nose is buried in Chan's hair, inhaling his comfort scent, memorizing it because he knows it will be a very long time before he gets to it again. It's only him and Chan at this moment, he's holding Chan, almost desperate for the younger to realize his yearning.

It's silent for a good minute, before Chan breaks the hug, the unshed tears of prior had now fallen, coating his cheeks lightly, but it's not melancholy in any way. His gaze seems to hold hope of the future- hope [Name] believes to be falsely placed.

—-------------

“- so listen Channie I'm sorry it's just so much was going on, and we both had just started college we were so busy and my father started breathing down my neck- you just-you seemed so happy without me and Rachel decided to drop out which had me-” [Names] rambling as he sits on his knees in between Chans legs are brought to a halt as the man in the couch grabs his face, hands covering the elders cheeks. Chan's touch isn't rough by any means, but there's slight possessiveness in the way he pulls [Name] forward. And before [Name] can comprehend what's happening, he finds his lips interlocked with Chan's and it's the most euphoric feeling he's ever felt.

He feels high, like he's drifting on a cloud, and the warmth of Chan's tear salted lips against his own makes him want more- makes him need more. His own hands fly up to cup Chan's face in reciprocation, the cold steel of his ring contrasting Chan's heated cheeks. [Names] touch is different from Chan's - it's filled with passion and longing- obsessive admiration and a need for more as he tries to press their faces impossibly closer to one another.

He knows they'll need to break apart soon, and his lips already grieve the loss of Chan’s. He stands up slowly, finger gently tracing Chan’s jaw as the male on the couch tilts his head to follow the elders movements, their lips still intertwined. [Name] sweeps his tongue over Chan's bottom lip before breaking the kiss completely, standing up to his full height as he groans while Chan breathes heavily. “what-” [Name] looks down at Chan's flushed face, “do you know how long I've been wanting to do that? I-” Chan takes a moment to steady his breathing before he continues “I can't even imagine what you've been through and fuck even after hearing that I don't know if I believe it but- Ive wanted to kiss you like that ever since I was 14”

[Name] looks down at him shocked, not understanding “since you were 14? that-” his furrowed brows make Chan groan in annoyance “fuck how can such a smart oerson be so stupid” he wispers to himself “I like you Bub, fuck I love you- I'm inlove with you. I have been since before I even found out you were my soulmate. I mean how could I not love you?” Chan asks, almost rhetorical.

[Name] takes a moment to understand Chan's words as he sits down beside the younger male. His heart bursts and his stomach feels warm, despite the danger of it all- he can't go back now, not knowing this… bubut a question still lingers in his mind. “How…. How could you love me though? I haven't had any use to you- to my family I'm about as useful as a star in the daytime and you deserve SO much more than that Channie. So much more than what I can offer-” [Names] spiral is cut off by Chan grabbing his hands. “The sun is a star” he states.

[Name] looks at him, a strange mixture of emotions in his eyes. “I've told you you were my sun before, the sun is a star Bub. The sun gives us light, it gives us life. So sure, you're as valuable as a star in the daytime- you're as valuable as the sun. My sun. No matter what your father or siblings say can change that.” Chan's eyes are filled with sincerity, his words speaking truths [Name] knew but refused to acknowledge.

"God Im so inlove with you" [Name] breathes out, "Say it again" Chan says with a bashfulsmile, "Im inlo-" "No, no say it in your real voice-you don't have to hide anymore" [Name] smiles, "Im inlove with you" his deep voice reaches Chans ears and it makes the younger giggle, his cute reaction causing [Name] to grab him and drag him on his lap. Chan yelps but continues laughing all the same, feeling at home in [Name’s] arms.

They sit like this for a while, in the silence only basking in each others touch, "are you not mad at me?" [Name] asks softly, Chan takes a moment to think before responding "I was, but- I get ut now. Why you thought you had to do it. While I don't agree wuth how you handled it, I do understand that I wasn't the one in the situation itself... Im not mad at you, I don't think I ever could be" he suplies.

[Name] nods, "So? what do we do now?" he asks, "well that depends... are we together?" Chan's voice is hesitant, "I would hope so- I don't just go around telling everyone and anyone im inlove with them" Chan slaps [Names] chest playfully at the elders response. "So do you... do you want to come clean? about everything- to your sibling I mean" Chan looks at his loved who seems fearfull at the notion, "I don't...." Chan nods his head in understanding as [Name] can't formulate a sentence. "You don't have to have an answer now... it's just I think felix is suspecting something already, and they deserve to know"

[Name] nods, "yeah... I don’t know Ill think about it in the morning... right now I only wanne think about you, celebrate that I'm finally your's as you are mine" [Name] smiles as he kisses Chans hand.

The sun is still a star, no matter the time of day. And [Name] is still Chan’s, no matter whatever forces wish to get in their way

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note: yall know the drill, please let me know what your thoughts on this chaoter was because I do really love hearing your input! im sorry its taking me so long to write but things have been happening recently and I just never get the chance too :( also this is NOT proofread guys

#smau #stray kids #kpop x male reader #skz #skz smau #crossover #stray kids x reader #stray kids x male reader #stray kids bang chan #stray kids smau #my music & your heart #bang chan x reader #bang chan smau #christopher bang #bang chan x male reader #bang chan

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auspicioustidings · 11 months ago

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Military Operation

Summary: Soap finds out Ghost has never celebrated Valentine's Day before and it all goes a little tits up. This is part of @bunnyreaper's Valentine's Day exchange and is for @juvenillia <3 (I signed up for this before I went into an absolute depressive fugue state so I can only apologise that it is not my best writing)

Words: 3k

“I’m naw fucking around, this needs tae be efficient and ruthless. Get in, get out, dinnae take any chances.”

“Yes sir.”

You try to hold in a laugh, eyes watering as Gaz catches your eye and is finding it equally as hilarious to have the Captain refer to Soap as sir. It’s ridiculous and Price knows it, but with how worked up Soap is he’s clearly feeling indulgent. Only all mirth dies and leaves your throat tight when Soap sets his eyes on you, looking wounded.

You had not realised until right this moment how much this meant to him. It seemed silly to you that he was treating Valentine’s Day as a military operation after Ghost let slip that he had never celebrated it, but it definitely wasn’t silly to Soap. Ah shit. Now you felt dreadful.

“Ok Sergeant, what can we do?”

He softened a bit at your sincerity and as he went over all of his planning you couldn’t help but feel the dread bubble up. You had been on this team for long enough now to know when John MacTavish was spiralling, and right now he was spiralling. It had been a while since his last episode when Gaz had gotten shot on mission and he had spent the next month completely burning himself out in his desperation to look after him. It was how he was, once he cared about you, he would completely self-destruct if it meant he could be of some service to you. It had been Ghost who brought him back that time and honestly you had not a fucking clue how.

You were paired up with Price to get the pool ready as per Soap’s instructions while he handled the rec room decorations and Gaz was sent to deal with food. It was pretty overboard as far as a Valentine’s Day went. Soap’s plan was to give Ghost a card telling him to go to the rec room after a romantic breakfast where there would be a note to lead him to the next location. It would be sweet if poor Soap wasn’t liable to give himself a stress induced heart attack before the end of the day.

“Captain…”

“I know kid” Price sighed with a press of his lips to your cheek. “If we can just get through today then we'll see what can be done. If we try stop him it’ll make him worse.”

You knew he was right even if you didn’t like it. Honestly the relationship the 5 of you had was tenuous at best. You were a unit, you worked well together in the field. You couldn’t really pinpoint when you had become something more than that. It happened slowly. It wasn’t some big confession or conversation, it was affectionate touches turning to something more between all of you. You thought that was perfect, but you wondered sometimes if for someone like Soap who was a romantic at heart and never could hide his feelings, the lack of definition as to what this all was stung.

“None of that corporal. If I have to be up sneaking around at 2am on Valentine’s Day putting bloody rose petals in a swimming pool then at the very least I’m going to take what enjoyment I can from it.”

“Is there any enjoyment you can get from this?”

“Hmm, battle plans are your specialisation.”

“That right?”

“Better come up with a plan for us to somehow take some enjoyment from being here all alone at this time.”

“That an order Captain?”

“Only because I know how much you like taking orders from me.”

You had to give it to Price, he had a way of taking your mind off things and then making you completely lose it. Slowly. Decadently. Several delicious times in a row.

–

You sleepily speared one of your pancakes and plopped it on Gaz’s plate who just as sleepily nuzzled a thank you into your hair before tucking in. Soap was sharp eyed given that none of you had bloody slept trying to make everything absolutely perfect for his plans. His leg was bouncing under the table as Price and Ghost joined you all at the table.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” he blurted out.

Ghost only responded with a slight nod of acknowledgment before Soap put the envelope on the table causing a tilt of Ghost’s head in question.

“Open it LT!”

You would really like to be invested in this, but as with Gaz beside you the two of you were more concerned about how Soap would cope with today. Honestly this could all go completely off without a hitch and he’d probably still be a mess at the end of the day thinking he had fucked everything up. Only it did not go off without a hitch as Ghost started to speak whilst opening the card that would kick off a day of in your face Valentine’s Day fun.

“S’not that I don’t appreciate it Johnny. February 14th is an anniversary.”

Oh no.

“Not really up for big celebrations the way you lot probably are. Seems wrong to on the day they were murdered.”

Oh no. It was too late. He was reading it. He was reading the card telling him to go to the rec room after he had eaten breakfast. The rec room that was smothered in fucking heart balloons and bunting and flowers. Gaz choked down his pancakes at breakneck speed.

“Totally understandable. Don’t worry about it, we really only had low key stuff planned but maybe it’d be nice to get off base instead” you said with what you hoped was a very believable smile.

“Oh! Aye! A wee off base trip would be good!”

“Hey” Ghost said, his big hand going to rest on top of Soap’s still bouncing leg to stop it. “Stop flapping Johnny. Low key is fine, just let me get breakfast and I’ll come to the rec room.”

Maybe God would be merciful and a nuclear war would start before he got the chance and save you all from being revealed as the most callous assholes in the world who were shoving love in Simon Riley’s face on the anniversary his family were fucking murdered. But since you couldn’t rely on that, you, Gaz and Soap were up and snatching your plates off the table in record time.

“Sounds good! You and Cap take your time, it’s really nothing big so no rush!” Gaz said with forced brightness and a mega watt smile to Price that in no uncertain terms said ‘please keep him here for as long as possible while we try to do damage control’.

“Aye, dinnae rush! Enjoy yer pancakes!” Soap added, choking on the last word as his eyes bulged out of his head.

Fuck. The pancakes. The fucking stupid heart pancakes that were sitting ready on the counter for Ghost to take. Only when he stood to go grab his plate, Gaz beat him to it and grabbed the full stack in his hand before shoving them into his mouth. Everyone froze in total shock as Soap sprung into action to help push the rest of the mess into Gaz’s face as he struggled to breathe while trying to swallow.

“Ah ha, totally forgot Gaz is carb loading! For that marathon thing. Yeah he’s totally carb loading right now, just eating all the carbs in sight.”

Gaz tried to back you up on that around a mouthful of stupid fucking pancakes only resulting in him nearly choking on powdered sugar and syrup while Soap started to frantically steer him out of the room. None of you noticed Price sneaking a photo of the whole scene.

“Aye, carb loading! Cannae help himself! Bonnie can make ye pancakes, they’re the best at them since they always take their time cooking. And then ye can all meet us.”

“Yes! I can do that. Totally. I can make pancakes. Slow cooked pancakes since Gaz ate your portion. Because he is carb loading.”

Soap pressed a frantic parting kiss to your forehead, leaving one on Ghost’s mask and the last on Price’s lips before carting Gaz out of there still coughing and sputtering and covered with syrup. Yeah, totally chill and normal behaviour. If you were anything but in a blind panic maybe it would have been suspicious that Ghost didn’t ask questions, only taking your hips to pull your back against his chest and scrape his teeth against your throat.

“Better get to making those pancakes before the Lieutenant skips right to dessert luv.”

–

“Jesus what are these made of fucking kevlar?” Gaz hissed, trying to pop one of the heart balloons with his teeth because his panicked fingers couldn’t get the bloody thing untied.

On an empty bloody base and neither of them had so much as a fucking pin for popping balloons after sprinting from the mess to try and get rid of the evidence of a very ill conceived attempt at romance. Eventually he took his teeth to the knot and got the stupid thing undone only to get a mouth full of helium while Soap frantically stuffed bunting behind the sofa.

“This is a pure shitemare.”

“I’m sorry, a shitemare?”

There was a pause before the two of them burst into wild laughter. Gaz from the word shitemare, Soap from Gaz saying the word shitemare with his voice high from the helium. Fuck it felt good. It felt like a release after the last 20 minutes of absolute blind fear driving them to try and sort this fuck up out.

Honestly Gaz hadn’t seen Soap laugh since Ghost had said about never having celebrated Valentine’s Day a week ago and he missed it. He missed the way his boy’s eyes crinkled and how he carded his hands through his hair and messed it up while trying to catch his breath. He missed how everything felt alright when John MacTavish smiled at him.

He really couldn’t help going and kissing him when he collapsed in an exhausted heap on the sofa after they had both laughed themselves silly and finished brutally murdering the rest of the balloons and squirrelling away the bunting. Soap had been his first kiss in the team and even now he liked kissing him most. You always teased him about it, knowing it didn’t take away from what you two had. After all, you would readily agree that Soap was the best kisser.

They still had to get rid of the flowers, but maybe staying here a little longer wouldn’t hurt.

–

“Leave them be sweetheart, they’re cute.”

You were at least relieved that the majority of the decorations seemed to have vanished even if there were still a few vases of flowers around the place, although the bigger relief was seeing your Sergeants tangled up snoozing on the sofa. When was the last time Soap had properly rested? It felt like he hadn’t at all this week. And Ghost was right, they certainly were cute like that. Price took a bunch of photos to prove it.

You felt thoroughly exhausted as well as you fell onto the other sofa, Ghost following and tucking you into his side.

“Did nobody sleep last night?”

You stuttered trying to come up with an excuse as to why you were all so tired.

“Could have at least invited me if there was an orgy happening.”

That turned you into a complete flustering mess which only made him and Price laugh.

“Come on sweetheart, get some rest in.”

Well since they had gotten rid of the note in this room about going to the pool next the whole crisis had been averted. And you always loved cuddling with Ghost. A nap couldn’t hurt.

–

“I like the flowers.”

Soap and Gaz shared a relieved look. They had meant to get rid of them but had passed out, only waking up a few hours later to find Ghost on the other sofa scrolling through his phone with you gently snoring tucked into his side. It was a really nice scene to wake up to actually. You weren’t tiny, but Ghost was huge enough to make you look that way. There was something that just made Soap’s chest warm seeing two people he knew went through hell out on the field both relaxed and gentle and happy. His quiet musing was interrupted by Gaz’s soft snort.

“You look broody as hell.”

“Want me to fuck a baby into you Gaz?”

“Not until you put a ring on it, no child of mine will be born in sin!”

Ghost’s laugh woke you but you were cosy right where you were and just listened to the three of them banter away.

“Having Johnny involved makes it a sin baby regardless of who he puts it in.”

“LT! I cannae believe ye’d say such a thing tae me! I’m a good Catholic boy!”

“Hmm, Catholicism does famously love a man sleeping with his entire unit” you quipped, earning a blown raspberry from Soap.

“Ye think my friend JC wasn’t balls deep in Judas and Mary at the very least?”

“Plus we bunk next to one another and they really make a whole big thing about loving thy neighbour so if anything we are simply following the good word.”

“See now Gaz gets it, that’s why he’s the one tae carry my child!”

“Congratulations on the pregnancy?” said Price in amusement as he came into the rec room, only catching the last line of the conversation.

“Thanks Cap” Gaz answered solemnly with a hand to his belly while you just rolled your eyes and smiled at how stupid these idiots were.

“Can’t wait for the baby shower. Thanks for the flowers, think I’m going to go a swim before lunch.”

It was a miracle Ghost did not feel how you tensed next to him (he did). The pool was still positively smothered in rose petals. Gaz and Soap must have realised at the same time you did, both of them leaping to their feet. Fuck.

“I’ll join you, but let’s swing by my office first.”

You wanted to kiss the Captain for his fast thinking. You just had to get to the pool and fish out the petals while Price kept Ghost busy and it would be absolutely fine.

–

“Where the fuck is it?!”

You could not believe this. The pool net was missing, the thing you needed to scoop out these stupid petals. The three of you had torn the place apart looking for it but it had yet to materialise. You felt like you were about to burst a blood vessel when Soap started laughing.

“I’m sorry, is something about this funny to you?” you hissed at him.

“Aye, ye look like a feisty wee cat when ye get all angry like that” he laughed.

God Soap loved seeing you angry. Not the angry you got on the battlefield, all blood and violence and vengeance. The angry you got just for them, when you were just normal people having a disaster of a Valentine’s Day and you went a shade darker with your eyes wild, arms crossed and foot tapping a grumpy little rhythm.

Gaz loved it too, but for different reasons. He knew when you got like this that either Soap or Ghost would start winding you up and it was always entertaining to watch the carnage that came of it. It had only been a week and he had already forgotten how much he liked seeing the two of you like this, having fun.

“Come on, Captain can’t distract him forever.”

Soap’s eye slid to Gaz, hearing the undercurrent of mischief just a beat too late as he was tackled into the pool with a yelp. You really had not seen that coming at all and as Soap broke the surface and shook out his hair you winched at how he switched from the brat you knew and loved to looking genuinely upset. You held a hand out to help him like an idiot only for him to drop his little facade and pull you in with a laugh.

“You fucking dick! I’m going to kill you!”

“At least start gathering petals while you do!” Gaz laughed as you went for Soap.

Only all that did was have you and Soap looking at one another and then to Gaz. He was the one who had started it. And he was going to fucking get it.

–

Price could not help but laugh at his team. Bunch of kids really.

“Pretty diabolical stealing the pool net old man.”

“Pretty sick lying about the date your family was brutally murdered.”

Ghost grinned under his mask with a shrug. Tommy would absolutely have done the same, and he could almost hear Beth’s outraged laugh about it. It’s not like he didn’t know what was going on, he had been happy to watch you getting your back blown out that morning at the pool by Price, but he could also see Johnny was going to that place that made him hurt himself. He needed to get out of his head, and nothing got him out of his head like you and Gaz.

“You going to join them?”

Ghost pushed off his mask and Price ruffled his hair, stealing a kiss.

“Well it is Valentine’s Day, so I suppose we’d better spend it with our better fifths no?” Simon replied, going to dive into the pool and join the chaos with his Captain close behind after getting a few more photos.

He’d show them to everyone later that evening since he had been taking them all day. Gaz sleepily nuzzling you in thanks at breakfast. Soap shoving pancakes into Gaz’s mouth. Ghost trying to distract you from making him pancakes. His napping Sergeants and his snoring Corporal. And his brilliant team all crashing through petal filled water laughing and having fun. As far as Valentine’s Day went, he didn’t think it could have been anymore perfect.

#mhairiwrites #cod #fanfic #tf 141 x reader #poly 141 x reader #poly 141

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dewdrops-whammy-bar · 3 months ago

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Tenth Drink Free- Chapter 2

Chapter 2/10- Star Taglist: @skele-bunny @rain-loves-scallops @dewphomet

{1}

Second chapter let’s fucking goooooo In this one I’m gonna delve more into Dew’s mind, his backstory, and his (frankly awful) mental health. Oh and he’s going to jork his peanits in the shower. Warning for mentions of/allusions to self-harm and self-destructive behavior.

“You seem excited.” Rain remarks, draping himself over the back of the couch with a smug grin. Dew looks up from his cereal to glare at him.

“What gave you that impression?” He asks.

“You’re up before 10, you don’t have anything on your calendar for today, and you’ve got the closing shift tonight. There must be something going on that you’re excited for.” Rain counts off on his fingers. “Ooooh, have you got a date?”

(Read the rest below or on AO3)

“Why do you care?” Dew grumbles. “Looking for gossip? Wondering if I’m still single?”

“Oh, I know you’re still single. I’m just checking in on you. As a friend.” Rain bats his stupidly long eyelashes at Dew. “What’s so important that it got you out of bed at the ungodly hour of 9:24 in the morning?”

Dew knew the reason, he’d spent most of his afternoon and evening the previous day agonizing over Big Sexy like a schoolkid with a crush. He’d analyzed every word of their short conversation and picked apart every glance, trying to glean whatever subtext he could from it. THEN he’d had a particularly exciting dream that woke him up at 6. After about 45 minutes of vigorously jerking it, he’d given it a rest after his third orgasm. At that point he was too awake to go back to sleep so he’d just busied himself with various little tasks until he got hungry enough to venture out.

“Fucked my sleep schedule.” He shrugs.

“At least you fucked something.” Rain remarks, turning back around and plopping himself back on the couch. “I’m getting ready for class.”

“Well good for you. Enjoy your boring-ass lecture, I’ll be here writing music and playing video games.” Dew sniffs.

“Enjoy that, I guess. Hope you like that coffee shop.” Rain snips back.

The words stung a bit, even though they’re nothing Dew hadn’t heard- or thought -before. He’d escaped his small town by bus on his eighteenth birthday with his guitar and just enough money to get by for a few months. By the grace of some god, Rain was looking for a roommate in the area he ended up in.

He’d managed to get a job at Cloudy Skies by borderline begging Cumulus to hire him at his interview. It wasn’t entirely manipulation, he’d had a long day and had been rejected from five jobs in the past week. It was nearing the end of the month and his portion of rent was due soon and he was afraid he’d be forced to sell his beloved guitar. He couldn’t help breaking down when Cumulus asked about his lack of past employment. He still felt guilty for it, even though it was six years ago.

He doesn’t realize how deafening his silence was until Rain’s head pops up from behind the back of the couch again.

“I’m sorry.” The other man says softly. “I didn’t mean-“

“You’re fine.” Dew reassures him. “It’s… well, you know. A bit sore.”

“That’s fair. Sorry for bringing it up.” Rain sighs sheepishly. Dew just nods and returns his attention to his cereal.

He’d like to go to college, get a degree in music or music education, but he’s broke. His job pays enough to cover rent and groceries and medication but that doesn’t leave much left over to pay for any classes. Student loans aren’t much of an option for him either, he doesn’t have much credit and being in debt stresses him out severely. He’s scared he’ll be stuck working customer service his entire life, a starving artist overlooked by everyone.

The texture of soggy cereal in his mouth almost makes him gag. He gets up from the table and puts his bowl in the sink, heading back to his room.

The rest of the morning passes normally once Dew cheers himself up again. He even manages to snag the pedal he was after (granted, for a little more than what he’d limited himself to spend, but whatever). He then celebrates by parking himself on the living room couch with a family sized bag of Takis and a controller and dedicates the next few hours to Resident Evil.

Eventually Dew gets bored and wanders back to his room to get dressed for work. He finds himself actually caring about his outfit for once. He settles on celestial-patterned skinny jeans and a black and red button-up shirt. He’s even compelled to slap on some eyeliner.

He realizes halfway through the eyeliner application process that he might be doing this in case he sees Aether again. He groans, drops his makeup pencil on the desk, and leans back to stare at the ceiling. He was too old to be having a crush. He had more important things to worry about. He wasn’t in high school anymore, putting on his best “pastor’s daughter” act and fluttering his eyelashes at the football team captain. That guy turned out to be an asshole anyway.

“Come on.” Dew grumbles. “You are a grown ass man.” He knows the drill- be infatuated by someone for a few weeks, create an idea of what they’re like in his head, finally push down his self-loathing enough to talk to them, and be disappointed by how they actually are. It’s happened too many times to count. It’d only turned out positively once- with Rain. They’d fucked a few times but decided to stay as friends, much to Dew’s relief.

He picks up the pencil again and finishes his makeup. He almost doesn’t want to see Aether again. He’d just be disappointed and go home and sulk in bed and give Rain another reason to tease him.

But he has bills to pay and a six-stringed child to care for. So he hauls his ass to Cloudy Skies, clocks in, and parks himself behind the register. He just has to get through a 5-hour shift. He can do five hours, that’s like three runthroughs of his favorite playlist.

“Hi D-dew!” Aeon chirps with a wave. Dew gives them a nod and a brief smile as he passes them in the kitchen. Aeon’s the most recent hire, a bright-eyed (well, in only one eye, the other was blind) 20-year-old computer science student working part-time. Dew doesn’t like change so he wasn’t a fan of Aeon to begin with, but they’ve grown on him. They’re like him- a weird kid trying to carve out a safe place in a scary world. He’d taken them under his wing as soon as he’d gotten used to having another person in the shop. He’d almost torn Swiss a new asshole the only time he dared to mock their stutter.

Dew glances around to make sure Cirrus wasn’t around and pops in one of his shitty wireless earbuds. Some music would make his shift a tiny bit more bearable. The opening notes of Toxicity filter through the tinny speaker of the earbud and he sighs with relief.

The afternoon crowd of students begin to flood into the shop and he’s quickly busy making drinks and heating up pastries. Sunny joins him behind the counter to help, thankfully.

He’s so busy with work that he doesn’t notice Aether has entered until he’s staring at that glorious chest with- dear lord, his shirt is unbuttoned an absolutely slutty amount.

”Hey, what can I get fOr you?” Dew’s voice cracks and he inwardly cringes.

”Hi, can I have a, um-“ Aether looks down at his hand. Dew sees smudged purple ink creeping over the side of his palm. “Cold brew with hazelnut syrup? Large, please.”

The same thing as last time- Dew’s own recommendation. His heart flutters. Stop it.

He grabs a large cold cup and jots down the order- and Aether’s name- before punching it into the register. “Yep. Anything else?”

”That’s it, thank you.” Aether smiles and Dew notices his crooked teeth. Fucking adorable. Jesus, stop it. You’re on the clock.

“That’s $5.06.” Dew manages to get out. He takes the cash Aether hands over, along with the punch card. The hole punch today is a star. The heart-shaped hole from last time taunts him.

”I’ll have that right out for you.” He tells Aether as he hands the card over and slides the cup into the queue waiting to be filled. He allows his eyes to linger for a second on Aether’s absolutely perfect ass as he leaves before he turns to serve the next customer.

Between taking orders and making drinks, Dew sneaks glances over at where Aether’s decided to sit. He’s pulled out a laptop covered in stickers and seems to be studying. He’s wearing glasses, much to Dew’s delight (followed by annoyance) and his brows are slightly furrowed. Goddamnit. Out of all the people to have a puppy crush on it had to be a customer. Fucking amazing, thank you brain.

When Dew ventures into the back to take his break, he’s cut off by a very smug-looking Swiss leaning against the counter.

”So.” The man starts. “Sunny told me you have a crush.”

”Well, she’d be wrong. I don’t have crushes.” Dew ducks under his arm and makes a beeline for the back door. How did she know already? What the actual fuck?

”If you say so.” Swiss shrugs. Dew slams the back door before he can continue.

He eyes the brick wall, wondering if it’s worth it to punch. He’s gotta get his annoyance out somehow before he snaps at someone. He settles for kicking it instead. It only relieves his tension a little bit.

Dew digs his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and sparks one up. The acrid smell calms him despite burning his nostrils. He hates the taste and smell of cigarettes but at least it’s something he can rely on to calm him. Vaping just doesn’t bring the same satisfaction- he’s tried. He knows he’s gotta quit but he’d just turn to other bad habits to replace it. He’s convinced himself it’s a form of harm reduction.

Dew grinds his teeth together. He’s thinking about his emotions again. He can’t afford to sink into self-pity again. He needs to pull himself together before he starts crying. He hasn’t cried in years and he’s not about to start now. Especially not at work.

His cig is only half-finished but he stubs it out anyway and heads back inside. A glass of water and a mint rinse the taste out of his mouth and he takes his place at the big industrial sink in the kitchen for dish duty. He’s glad he doesn’t have to interact with customers for the rest of his shift. As much as he’d like to ogle Aether, it’s probably best if he takes his mind off him.

He scrubs pans and mugs and plates and utensils and baking tools until his forearms burn and turns up his music. He estimates his playlist has cycled through about two and a half times by the time Sunny taps him out at the sink.

“Stop spreading gossip about me.” He tells her, a bit harsher than he intended it to be. “Swiss is gonna be on my case for months, you know how he is.”

“Maybe you should get off your ass and ask him out. It’s the big guy, button up shirt, nice piercings, right?” Sunny grins at him and flutters her eyelashes. “He’s hot. Might have to make a move if you don’t.”

Dew sighs. “I don’t have a crush. Yeah, he’s hot, but I’ve got no desire to date him,” He hisses under his breath. The little lovesick voice in his head wails at the thought of Aether going out with someone else.

“Sounds like someone who’s got a crush…” She whispers back and winks at him. “Cir wants you to clear the pastry counter, by the way. Enjoy the view.”

Dew doesn’t dignify that last remark with an answer, only takes his earbuds out and walks over to Cirrus at the other end of the kitchen. She looks up from jotting notes on her clipboard and rubs her eyes.

“Hey Dew. Could you do me a favor and empty out the glass display?” She asks while stifling a yawn. “Sorry. Long day.”

“Understandable. I’ll get right on that.” Dew gives her a two-finger salute, which she returns. His spirits lifted somewhat at the prospect of first dibs on the leftover treats, he trots back out behind the counter.

Aeon sits at the stool behind the register, sneakily tapping away at their phone. Dew bumps them with his shoulder as he passes.

“Careful. Cirrus’ll give you an earful if she sees you on your phone,” he mutters. “I swear, she acts like an overbearing mother sometimes.”

“I know. I w-would have put it away if I’d-d heard her footst-steps.” Aeon shoots him a conspiratorial grin. Dew blinks.

“You’ve memorized her footsteps?” He asks, somewhat amazed. “In three weeks of being here?”

Aeon shrugs. “I’m good at-t patterns.” They turn back down to their phone and resume tapping. Dew sneaks a peek at their screen and sees they’re filling out a Sudoku puzzle with frightening speed. He shrugs and lets them be.

The pastry display is picked clean, only a few crescent rolls and a lone muffin remain. Dew picks them out with tongs and places them on a plate. On habit he glances over to the corner where Aether sat- and still sits, to his surprise. He seems to be taking a break from studying, instead leaning back in his chair and reading a book.

Dew opens the warmer on the countertop and slides the muffin inside. He adds one of the crescent rolls after some consideration and shuts the machine. The few minutes it takes to warm up the pastries are spent wiping down counters and collecting tools to be washed.

He returns from the kitchen and slides the baked goods from the warmer onto a plate. He hesitates, takes a deep breath, and walks out into the seating area.

Aether looks up as he approaches, pushing his glasses up to his forehead with a tired smile.

“We’re closing in around twenty minutes.” Dew lowers his voice a bit, glancing at the few other people in the shop. “Thought you might want some leftover snacks. Don’t tell anyone.” He smiles and sets the plate next to Aether’s laptop.

“Oh, awesome. I was just wondering what I was gonna have for dinner.” The man smiles with those adorable crooked teeth. “Thanks for the heads up. And the food.”

“‘Course.” Dew smiles back, stomach doing flips. He sneaks a peek at Aether’s book- it’s a well-worn paperback with… two shirtless men on the cover. Well, that answered the question on whether he liked men or not. Dew actually had a chance.

He walks away to notify the other stragglers and wipe down tables. Aether only leaves five minutes before closing, waving at Dew as he did. Goddamnit he’s cute.

Dew has another cigarette on his way home to try to clear his head. He knows Rain hates the smell of smoke but he’ll shower as soon as he gets home.

The front door squeals as Dew enters the apartment, making him wince. He kicks his boots off, drops his bag, and makes his way to his room. Rain’s door is closed so he’s either gaming or jerking off. Dew fights the urge to just collapse on his bed. He knows he’ll never get up that way, and he’d rather not have aching ribs tomorrow from over-binding.

So he grabs his sleeping shirt and fresh underwear and drags himself to the bathroom. He’s out of makeup remover so he just rubs his eyes with a damp cotton pad until his eyeliner is gone. It leaves the skin raw and he winces.

The hot shower water soothes him. He closes his eyes as he massages shampoo into his hair and allows his mind to drift. It immediately goes to Big Sexy. He’s too tired to resist it- fantasizing would probably get the silly crush out of his system faster anyway.

He imagines Aether’s hands in his hair, combing through it gently as they kiss. How warm his lips would be, the scratch of his beard scruff against his neck, his large hands holding Dew’s waist, squeezing his chest, pushing his thighs open-

“Haaaaah…” Dew leans against the shower wall and tips his head back to avoid the spray. His hands explore his body- not as big as Aether’s, but he can pretend. His hand finally dips between his legs to find himself already slick and ready.

He pushes his middle and ring fingers into his cunt with a gasp. “Aether…” He pumps them in and out, imagining the bigger man’s fingers instead. The fingers of his other hand pet over his clit as he imagines Aether’s tongue in their place. Dark blue eyes look up at him through long brown eyelashes, fingers curling right up into that perfect spot, a low chuckle as Dew whines.

He imagines Aether pulling back and he whines again. “Noooooo…” Fantasy-Aether just grins, uses those big hands to flip him onto his stomach, and eases his cock into him. Dew adds two more fingers, moaning at the stretch. “Aeth- oh my god-“

Fantasy-Aether fucks him hard and deep, groaning unspeakably sexy things in Dew’s ear. Dew cums hard, thighs shaking as he clenches and flutters around his fingers. He sinks to his knees and braces his hand on the side of the bathtub as he rides out his orgasm.

“Fuck…” Dew mumbles as he washes off his hands in the now- lukewarm water. He’s embarrassed now- he just jerked off to a customer. He hasn’t technically done anything wrong, he’s free to crank it to whatever his dick desires, but he’s pretty sure he won’t be able to look Aether in the eyes for a good week. Incredibly awkward.

He gets out of the shower, dries off, and changes into pajamas. ‘Pajamas’ is pushing it though, it’s one of those T-shirts with three wolves superimposed over a full moon and forest that’s four sizes too big and boxers.

Dew returns to his room, hair still wrapped up in a towel, and collapses into bed. He’s tired from having emotions all the time. It makes him have to think about his life and if he does that too much he starts to spiral. A therapist would probably tell him to start thinking about his emotions and to stop smoking, but he doesn’t have a therapist. He’s fine as is, as long as he takes his meds. He pays too much for them anyway, he’s not gonna shell out another hundred a week for someone with a degree to tell him to breathe.

There he goes, spiraling again. Dew punches his pillow in frustration. As he rolls onto his back his eyes fall on the notebook on the floor next to his guitar.

He hasn’t journaled in years. The idea makes him want to laugh but… if he can get his thoughts out of his head and onto paper maybe they’ll leave him the fuck alone.

Dew drags himself out of bed and settles on the floor with the notebook. He chews on the cap of the pen tucked into the wire spine and hesitantly touches the tip of the pen to the page.

The next thing he knows he’s filled three pages, front and back. His handwriting is messier than usual- almost illegible- and he can barely remember what he wrote. Probably for the best.

Tearing the pages out of the notebook, Dew crumples them up and reels his arm back to toss them into his garbage can. He hesitates.

Instead, he opens one of his dresser drawers and shoves the wadded paper way into the back. It finds a home among his holey socks and empty deodorant sticks (he really should throw those out). He shoves the drawer closed a little harder than he really needs to. It feels good.

He takes his hair out of the towel and tosses it across the room. He’s too tired to put it into its usual braid, he doesn’t care if it’s frizzy tomorrow. Finally, Dew crawls under the covers with his hair still damp and goes to sleep.

Drop a kudos and comment on AO3!

#tenth drink free #Dewther #dewdrop/aether #trans dewdrop #trans aether #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #dewdrop ghoul #swiss ghoul #phantom ghoul #aeon ghoul #rain ghoul #cirrus ghoulette

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writememysticfalls · 3 months ago

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7 Minutes in Heaven | Damon Salvatore

Summary: You're stuck in the prison world with Damon Salvatore, college hottie and your worst enemy. You find yourself in a steamy situation with him...

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x witch!reader

Genre: Enemies to lovers AU, Badboy!Damon, Witch!Y/n, Set in S6 in the prison world

Word Count: <1k

You walked in to the Salvatore living room to find Damon breaking off pieces of the coffee table and throwing them at the wall to create tiny explosions.

“Great” he said without turning. “It's the fun police. Look, it'll all be fixed by tomorrow. Groundhog-Yay, am I right?”

You had been trapped in this other world, forced to repeatedly relive the same day, for over three months. It didn't matter what you did, as the world was reset every day.

Damon threw another piece of wood, and it burst into flame in the air.

“Witchy?” Damon said, spinning around.

You smiled. “If you're going to self-destruct, at least do it properly.”

You flung, burned and destroyed until most of the living room was a smoking mess. Sitting in the centre of it, Damon knocked back a bottle of bourbon.

“Gimme,” you said, sitting down next to him.

“Woah,” Damon said. “This place has officially broken you.”

“Ha-ha,” you said, grabbing the bottle. You gulped down some bourbon, then coughed, pressing your hand over your mouth. “Why do you drink this stuff?” you croaked.

“You're doing it all wrong,” Damon said, taking a gulp and holding it in his mouth. “Leave it on your tongue,” he swallowed, “then feel the burn in your throat.”

You followed his instructions, then sighed with joy. “I see. My chest feels so warm I almost forget that my heart is a cold, empty pit of sadness.”

“A-ha,” Damon said. “You've finally got bourbon.” He threw the empty bottle, shattering it. “I… told Elena I never wanted to see her or hear her voice again. I crushed her. And now… I’m dead. And that's how she'll remember me.”

You nodded. “You wanna talk crappy goodbyes? The last thing that I said to my boyfriend before getting stuck here was that he was a jerk."

You both laughed, so hard that you started hiccupping.

“You're such a nerd,” Damon said. “Honestly, what did your boyfriend see in you? I've seen the guy, he's jacked. He has options.”

“Um, Elena could've had Stefan. Why the hell did she pick you?” you said.

You rested your head on Damon’s shoulder. It felt so good that you snuggled into his chest. Slowly, Damon let a hand stroke your hair and then rested it on your shoulder. It was the first time you had touched since you had arrived here. Neither of you spoke for a while, just enjoying this moment of frozen time.

You felt Damon’s eyes on you, and slowly looked up at him. He had that rare wide-eyed expression on that made him look almost gentle.

“You might be an uptight - witch, but you're a decent drinking buddy,” Damon murmured.

“You might be a self-absorbed, murderous jerk… but you're not so bad yourself,” you replied.

Damon leaned into you, his face open and questioning. You let your eyes slip shut. Briefly, your lips met. Damon was clearly a good kisser. His lips were soft and sweet, surprisingly gentle. You wondered if Damon had kissed Elena and Caroline the same way - and you quickly pulled away.

“Nope,” you said, jumping to your feet. “Nope, nope, nope.”

Damon shuddered. “The phrase - ‘not even if we were the last people on earth’ springs to mind.”

You crossed your arms, gazing into the fireplace. “Mention this to no one?”

“No one,” Damon agreed.

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

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grapejuicestyless · 8 months ago

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So Long, London

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Years and years of love and affection couldn’t amount to the floods of tears that flooded the once prosperous city you danced through.

From a young age I’ve always wondered what death feels like. Those who have experienced it aren’t here to tell us their stories. Would it hurt, could I feel it clenching my heart in its dark grasp or would I sigh in my sleep and let the darkness take me with no sense of slipping away.

As I walk down the old roads I used to dance on, I understand the concept of it better now that my heals hit the concrete like bullet shells falling to the floor. The vibrant red brick seemed duller nowadays, moss covering the once new white concrete holding all these places I often visited together.

To me, death wasn’t the last breath of air in my lungs escaping, it wasn’t the melodic beeping of the machines beside me in a hospital room, but something that drowned me from the inside out.

His smell is stuck to all my clothes, his smile carved into the back of my phone case from the polaroids of us I kept for keepsakes for years. I can still hear his voice, it’s all around me in the people passing by on the street, the same accent fresh in my mind, his last words knives in my heart.

He swore that he loved me, but where were the clues? I died at the alter waiting for the proof. His green eyes flashing with mischief as he lied to my heart to keep me close, his bluest days tainting my mind, my endless sympathy forcing me to stay even with the gun stuck against the back of my head.

I don’t remember the end, only the feeling of my spine splitting under the weight of his body as I pulled him in closer each time he slipped out of reach. Only the fading of his smile as I gave up trying to make him laugh after so many failed attempts. The heart was dead, I stopped CPR after all, there was no use. Our love was long dead, lying buried with our faltering spirits. He killed me when he killed our relationship, two graves dug with one gun.

He swore that he loved me, and his face looked just like the man who said it to me and meant it, so I believed him as he led me down the street with his hands in his pockets.

For so long, I loved london. My clothes out of place, made for the states and carried across to my home where he laid in the dimming light of our sunroom. For so long, I held him and guided his heart to mine, I let him take parts of me I’ll never be able to rebuild. And I’m angry that I gave him all that youth for free, but I’m just mad as hell because I loved this place.

And he claims I abandoned the ship, he writes it in the songs on his albums and sends the troops to my front door, breaking down the home I just rebuilt but they’ll never know how I was going down with it, my white knuckle dying grip holding onto his quiet resentment.

But truly how much sad did he think I had left in me to give? How much tragedy? Just how low did he believe I could before I would self-implode, waiting for his grays and blacks to turn back into the vibrancy I fell so deeply in love with.

And as I walk these streets, his scent fading from my clothes, I can feel the color coming back to my face, and I feel bad for anyone who stops me on the streets and asks me to grab a coffee, because the hole in my heart is black and it’s pulling in anything in it’s path, it’s destructive and dangerous and it acts a lot like him.

He’ll find someone, my stitches will come undone and my heart will die as I lay silently on the empty floor of the apartment I never thought I would see again.

I have to leave, I know it even in this post-death mist. I am a ghost walking down these once euphoric streets we walked hand in hand across. I can’t let myself rot like he did, I won’t let myself get left behind like he intended.

And I’m just mad as hell because I once loved this place.

But for now, it’s so long, london.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry x reader #harrystyles #harry styles

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starcrossedandstupid · 17 days ago

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My long page of links is definitely not appealing to people who may want to see why I love Mars Joel, and I realized I condensed it it pretty well for a moot of mine, so here’s the reasons why Mars celestial symbolism Joel is very cool and you should be unwell about it with me!

OKAY SO. Mars Joel. You may be thinking ‘but star? Martyn is Mars’! But. Meteor Martyn. Originally there was a lot of discussion between if Martyn should be Mars or a Meteor, so it’s already kinda known but fandom.

I’m gonna start with meteor Martyn just to show that yes it is a good idea and therefore Mars Joel is viable

Martyn had it all, in third life. He still did, in Last Life, even if it wasn’t the same. He had those connections, a place and people to call home. In third life he was a part of a planet. In Last Life something was starting to brew, but he was still apart of it all. Then Double Life hit, and his home world, the land he was a part of, exploded. He shot out into space, blazing trail behind him, scorching it all. It had no one anymore. He was lost, destroying any relationships in his way, and losing little pieces of himself. And in Limited Life, he crashed. He betrayed Scott, he always knew he was going to, and it that betrayal, that win, he destroyed himself too. Crashing into something breaks both what it hit, and the meteor, does it not?

TLDR: He was something, once. A part of something wonderful. But that’s gone now. And he is on fire, blazing through it all. He is leaving a path of flames where ever he goes. One day, he will crash. It will be beautiful. A beautiful, beautiful self led destruction.

OKAY NOW ON TO MARS JOEL

1. The simplest of the reasons. Mars is red. The color, the life, Joel is known for in the traffic seires. That he has always been known for. His rabid pack of red wolves in third life. His constant status as red in last life. He and Etho becoming red in double life, their killing of pearl, etc. Red is Joel in the life series through and through.

2. Mars is just the Roman reskin of Ares, the Greek god of war. Be his associated with violence, combat, red, blood, fire. All the things Joel is associated with. Joel is filled with blood list and anger and the need to fight. But Ares is not the only Greek god of war. Athena is the god of warfare/war strategy. Gem fits perfectly in that role. The collected strategy to Joel’s controlled chaos, combined together to be a force of war that cannot be stopped. They are feared and revered, they are victorious. And from a celestial body winners symbolism perspective, while Mars is well, the planet Mars, Athena’s Roman goddess counterpart, Minerva, does not have a specific celestial body of any kind as a symbol. Joel is a winner now, and therefore has one, while Gem hasn’t won yet, and therefore doesn’t.

3. Joel had no one. Sure he had loose allies, but he and nothing growing or living with him. He was alone, some big piece of rock orbiting, with nothing but himself. Then Double Life happened, and people discovered, he discovered, that he can support life. He can have allies and be around them and they can live on his surface and create and love. And it culminated in his winning season, when he was family to someone, when he was the place, whether they liked him or not people went to. And in the end, he won alone, but ghosts and memories of those he loved cheered for him. I mean, Mars may not have life now, but it’s the only place we know of that could, if we tried, right?

TLDR Point 3: Mars is the only planet we know of that could support life. We don’t know if it ever has, but it has the capacity to. It can. And one day, it will. Joel did not have allies, but he wanted to, he tried so hard to. And he has them now.

Silly extra reason!: What is a planet, if not one big car traveling on its well trodden road?

As you might have been able to tell, I love the parallels this bad boy can have when he has Mars as his celestial symbolism!! There’s some Scar parallels I didn’t mention, and more I haven’t fully formed yet, but yeah!!

I love this idea so so much, and I hope you like the vibes as well :]

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hoeforalbedo · 2 months ago

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Void

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Summary: It’s not right person wrong time. It’s wrong person wrong time but for some reason, they find themselves craving each other even when they know they shouldn’t.

TW: Smut, Fem reader, alcohol, weed, mentions of other drugs but nobody actually uses it, depression, self sabotage, self destructive thoughts and actions, ANGST

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It started on your birthday, buzzed out from the the alcohol but not enough to be drunk. Just tipsy. Maybe the alcohol was enough to mess with your mind but when you look at your ex/best friend, Seonghwa, many dirty thoughts swirl around your head.

Just sex. That’s all you want. You don’t do relationships. Commitment had always been scary. It makes you feel insecure, wondering if you’re worth loving. There’s also this sense that you’re tied down, you’ve always been free-spirited and you didn’t like the idea of having someone else influence your decisions.

Seonghwa stood from his spot after many moments of catching your glances. “Long time no see, happy birthday.”

A smile smile forms at the corners of your lips. “Thanks. I heard you moved into the city, lately.”

He chuckles, “Yeah. You know, I’m not really one for the chaotic city but plans change.”

You hum in acknowledgment. That was one of the reasons for why you two broke up. You knew where you wanted to be. You wanted the city, loud, chaotic, unpredictable.

Routine feels repetitive but with the city, you never know what’s happening. You find yourself roaming different parts of the city, hardly ever coming home. The walls just feel suffocating. Routine is suffocating. Commitment is suffocating. But when you walk the streets, high out of your mind from weed, and there’s constant lights blaring into your eyes, you feel free, the air feels fresh somehow. Nobody gives a fuck about you. You could do whatever you want and nobody would care.

Your life has become work, get off and go to wherever your feet leads you, then come home late at night, or maybe find yourself at some hotel with however you found for the night. For someone who hates routine, you’ve committed to this lifestyle.

Seonghwa isn’t like that. He likes his routine. He likes predictability. He doesn’t like stepping out of his comfort zone. Each day for him is the same, and a slight mishap that is not part of his schedule throws him off badly.

That’s where the two of you clash. You love those mishaps. It makes your day exciting. A relationship with you is pure chaos. There’s no structure, you’re unpredictable. In some ways Seonghwa loves that it’s never dull, other times he hates how carefree you are. You swerve through the roadblocks of love with ease while he’s still stuck far behind you.

“You always knew what you wanted. You weren’t going to let anything hold you back,” Seonghwa reminisces. A sad smile finds you.

“Yeah. I got it alright. I started travel work so I can actually travel while making money. I start next month.” It was always the plan. Move to the city and once you can you’d travel to as many places as you can.

You’ve had it all planned even before dating Seonghwa and you weren’t going to compromise. This is what you wanted and you’re content. As flexible as you are, your dreams and goals are something you can’t afford to fail. It had always been what you wanted since you were 15 and you are willing to sacrifice everything else. It doesn’t matter how many plans change, that is where you want to be. You knew your ideal lifestyle didn’t fit a relationship. You were prepared for that. You weighed the options and romance is something you decided you don’t need. It’s great to have but you could go on without it.

Just because you didn’t need it doesn’t mean you crave it. Many of your friends are deciding on settling down. You were invited to two weddings. They are far ahead in their love life. Many other people your age have children. Children have always been out of the question. You don’t really like them. You want to be reckless, and how can you do that with a child?

Seonghwa wants kids. He often gets baby fever. He’s fine just watching other people with their kids. Anything for you, but you knew that you’re only holding him back from his dreams. He wants a domestic life in a nice suburban house. You don’t want that. You never wanted that, and you are content with the knowledge that you’d die without children to uphold your legacy, but you never believed in that crap anyways. The only legacy you have is family trauma and you don’t plan on spreading generational trauma to your hypothetical kids.

“It’s like the moment I have you, you’re already gone,” He looks at you with a sad look, and even then he still has that spark in his eyes. It breaks your heart. He really wanted to make the relationship work, he really wants you, but you’ve already given up on the idea.

“I’m sorry. . .” You tore your vision away from him. You watch your friends on the dance floor as you take a sip of your drink.

Seonghwa reminisces, “It’s been what, two, three years since I’ve seen you. I thought I could move on but I still love you.”

You bit your lip. You want him but you know that what you feel isn’t love. You love the idea of love. You love the idea of Seonghwa. You know yourself. You love people you can’t have.

Sure in some way you love him still, but you didn’t want to hurt him. You didn’t want to tie him down to someone who does whatever they want, because even when you planned your life ahead with goals and expectations, you don’t know what you want with your life. The unpredictability is the only thing that sends you a feeling of thrill. The plan was always the city because of the chaos. As for traveling, it’s the unfamiliarity. You’re not a stranger to imposter syndrome, in fact you have come to enjoy it. You never belong anywhere so it doesn’t matter where you go. You no longer want the high from weed, you never wanted it in the first place. What you truly wanted to feel is the high of life everyone talks about. You want to feel free despite your head trying to constantly lock you in.

There’s more to it. You easily get bored and you’re afraid that one day you’d get bored of him. It’s not easy to get bored of him but with the way he’s always repetitive, he’s already predictable and that’s enough reason for you to avoid him than hurt him one day.

“You know we can only be friends,” You turn to look at him. He’s looking down at his drink set on his lap, held fragile by his fingers. Those fingers poked you, making you giggle. Those fingers that are far bigger than yours, and when you held his hand, they just enveloped yours. Those fingers that traced your body so that he could etch you into his mind. Those fingers that knew how to make you scream when he fucked your needy cunt. You miss his touch.

Fuck, you still need him. Why is he so easy?

“I know. . .” He looks up to look at you. You could easily get lost in his eyes. He’s got so much light in them, while you’re trying to do everything to at least make yours shine for just a moment. He always has something to look forward to, but you’re always looking for something to fulfill that boredom in you.

Why do you love him? Why does he love you? You’re not a good person. You date people only to leave them when you’ve had enough. Even if you aren’t bored of him now it’s still bound to happen. You’re in love with someone you can’t have. But then again that happens all the time. He’s not special.

So many “what ifs.” So many “coulds.” It’s hard to make up your mind.

Still, you find him inching closer to your face, and you couldn’t back away. Your mind is telling you no, but your heart is screaming at you. Your body isn’t even responding to you. You still want him and when he presses his lips against your lips, you’re reminded of why you’re so in love with him. His kisses are always gentle, as if you’re fragile and would break easily.

Seonghwa missed your lips. During those two to three years, he tried to move on, find other people but they weren’t the same. They weren’t you. You kiss as if you’re distant, as if you’ve already left. You would try to hold yourself back and he wants to tell you it’s okay to enjoy the moment, but you’re so far away. Always ready to move forward. Even when you’re right here, you feel so distant. He’s so fucked. Two people who are in love with someone they can’t have is a love that’s doomed from the start.

You finally pull away from him, “We can’t.”

“Please just give me this one chance. Just give me tonight. Please,” He begs, voice coming as a whisper from how desperate he is.

“Don’t say that,” You plead.

“Why?” He asks.

You inhale sharply, “Because I won’t be able to stop myself from saying yes.”

“Just give me one night.”

Fuck. “Just tonight.”

It’s your birthday party but you left your friends on their own. You take a hit of your cart knowing that you can’t do this sober. The alcohol in your system does nothing but give you a euphoric buzz. What you need is for your mind to shut up. It never allows you to enjoy anything.

You’re already clawing at each other’s clothes the moment the hotel door closes. You miss this. You forgot just how addicting he is. His touch is better than alcohol or weed. Maybe even cocaine or acid but you wouldn’t know. You wouldn’t go that far.

“Jump,” He tells you. Your body automatically moves on its own before your mind can process what he said. You wrap your legs around his waist as he held you up. He kisses your swollen lips fervently while your fingers comb through his hair. Back then he used to have a sexy undercut. His hair has grown much longer. It suits him. Hopefully he doesn’t cut it anytime soon.

He easily navigated the two of you to the bed and lays you down gently. He takes his shirt off before dipping into your neck.

“Don’t leave any marks.” It’s the a rule that goes for all of your one night stands. Maybe your high ass thought you said it out loud because he’s leaving marks everywhere. Nah, if that were the case, you’d be puking your guts out by now. Greening out is the worst type of cockblock. Maybe you just didn’t say it, and maybe it wasn’t an accident either.

When all clothes are discarded, Seonghwa doesn’t know what to do. He wants to do everything to you, knowing that this is the only chance he has. “I want to taste you,” he mumbles. He kisses down the valley of your breast, to your stomach, until he finds himself between your thighs.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your body burning to his touch. It hurts more than usual. Even when you’re high, some other guys couldn’t make you feel this way.

You’re practically soaked, body so sensitive to everything. It makes Seonghwa question if it’s the weed or him. Perhaps both. When have you started smoking anyways? You used to say you’d never do those stuff.

“Seonghwa, stop teasing me,” You breathe heavily. Usually, you don’t get impatient when it comes to sex. You never felt the need to when your partners don’t feel as good compared to Seonghwa. Sure, there are people that do feel amazing, but you have weed to actually make it bearable. You can’t recall how sex feels sober, but what you know is that you can never feel good sober anyways. Your thoughts are too loud, the loudest during sex but Seonghwa always knew how to shut them up. His words would make you feel like putty and his touch made everything quiet. No substances needed.

And his tongue.

Fuck, his tongue knows how to make you scream. It’s embarrassing how easily he can make you cum so quickly. He eats you up like it’s his last meal, and probably because it is. Your taste is so addicting and your moans are like heaven to his ears. He could stay between your legs, eating your pussy for hours, but he desperately needs to feel his dick inside you.

Each moment has him getting impatient, knowing his time is limited and so he fucks you. His dick has your mind going blank with the way he fills you up. Your pussy fits perfectly around his cock like a puzzle piece. So warm, wet. . . comfortable. You bring him comfort.

Seonghwa doesn’t make sense. He kisses so softly but fucks so hard. “Hwa, you’re so good,” You whimper into his ear.

“Say that again, Darling. Let me hear you say that again,” His voice is deep, practically begging you as the tip of his cock perfectly nudges your cervix.

“Please Hwa. Need you to make me cum,” You cry as you squirm under his touch. It’s too much. It’s too good. You stare at the ceiling with tears of pleasure.

God, it feels so good.

Maybe God has finally given you a chance to finally feel happiness even if it’s brief. Why now? He should have done it a long time ago.

“Fuck,” Seonghwa moans, eyes practically rolling back as he listens to your cries and moans. He takes your leg, putting them over his shoulder, as he fucks you even deeper. He hits parts of you that no one else can. It’s not fair the way he knows your body more than you. He rubs against the most sensitive parts of you with ease while he rolls your clit against his thumb.

“I’m gonna cum,” You gasp, head rolling back against the pillow, eyes closed shut.

“No baby, look at me. I want you to look at me while you cum,” He stops, forcing your slightly red glazed-over eyes to open and look at him with a pout. “Good girl,” He hums as he slams his hips against you once more.

“Seonghwa!” You squeal as your sensitive cunt clenches down on him. “Fuck! Fuck! It’s too much! Too good! ‘M gonna cum so hard!” You sob.

“Cum for me baby. Let me feel you,” He groans as he feels himself closer to his orgasm.

“Hwa!” You whine as you cum, pussy convulsing around his cock, while looking directly into his eyes.

“Shit baby, where do you want me to cum?”

“Inside. Fill me up,” You beg. Even on birth control, you never let other people cum inside you. Only Seonghwa. It just feels so good the way he fills you up with his warm cum, thrusting it deeper into you, before he pulls out.

Many tend to fall asleep easy with weed. That’s why some people take it. However, you can never fall asleep while high. Even with the embrace of a nightly partner, when you close your eyes, it’s just you and a dark infinite void. In that void, you get lost in thoughts. It can range from wanting food, to be lazy to stand, to why do you exist. Those types of thoughts are the worse. You start questioning yourself and your reality and you start depersonalizing. Once you get to that point, nothing you do can ground you. That’s why you don’t sleep when high. Instead you go on your phone.

Many texts fill up your Lock Screen and you quickly reply to your friends telling them that you weren’t kidnapped. You talk with them for a while, then scroll through social media, and once you feel like your high is wearing out to a buzz, you get up slowly to not wake Seonghwa. You get dressed and slip out the hotel room. You go home and clean yourself up so that you’re ready to repeat the process all over again. Life is made up of routines no matter how crazy or chaotic you make it. There will always be a structure.

The next morning, Seonghwa wakes up to a cold bed. He never even got to get your new phone number, and even then, he doesn’t know if you’ll ever respond to him. Knowing that you’re leaving once again, he prays for some miracle that the world brings you back once more, even if it’s for a short moment.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez x reader #seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa x reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

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WIBTA for completely ignoring a very long and thought-out apology message?

TL;DR: Abusive ex sent me apology after two years of silence and I’m not sure I want to acknowledge it.

So I was in a very abusive relationship with my ex for around a year. I’m going to try not to go into too much detail, but I tend to ramble and this is a hard topic for me so I’m sorry in advance if this ends up super long.

When we started dating, it was great for the first six months or so. I noticed certain things that made me question if she could have BPD (intense jealousy, sudden mood switches, impulsivity, self-destructive behaviour) and encouraged her to speak to her therapist about it. She eventually did and was diagnosed with BPD, but she wasn’t able to get on medication for another few months. After that, everything seemed to just… completely spiral. She started to control who I could speak to (I was only allowed to be with friends for an hour, and if I was even a few minutes late she’d be blowing up my phone accusing me of cheating etc. and ignoring me for days), she wanted me to cut off every friend who didn’t like her or warned me about the relationship and would accuse me of disrespecting boundaries if I objected, she would shout at me 24/7 (e.g. we’d be talking fine, she’d tell me she had a headache, I’d say I was sorry, and she’d suddenly be yelling that she didn’t need my pity and that I was patronising her), she constantly tracked where I was and who I was with, she lied to me constantly about things both major and minor, and by the end of it she was physically aggressive. This eventually culminated in her cheating on me, me giving her another chance (zoinks), and her cheating on me again less than a month later with a man she knew had SA’d me in the past. After that I just couldn’t take it anymore and finally got the courage to leave.

This unfortunately made everything worse. She split on me - basically a BPD thing where your opinion on someone goes from love to hate or vice versa in an instant - and she made it her mission to make my life hell. For almost a year and a half after our breakup, she was sending things to my house, to my family’s houses, she was stalking my social medias and sending me death threats from burner accounts, all of her own social medias became solely dedicated to talking about me, and then the worst part - she knew I wanted to go to college to become a primary (elementary) school teacher, and so she called up the college I was going to attend and told them I was a pedophile. She went all out with this accusation and was posting it all over Twitter, messaging my friends, getting her friends to post it - it was crazy. Thankfully it did not actually affect my education because I explained what was going on and I had evidence that things she was saying happened were false, but it was a super terrifying and stressful time.

While that was going on, she used the fact I was an SA victim against me - at one point she told me to “shut up and go get raped again”, and another Tweet she made accusing me of being a pedophile was followed up with “Shame you’ll never get that teaching job, I hear they’re not so kind to people like you in prison”.

Making everything more confusing is the fact that every few months it’s like she’d switch back - she’d send me an apology message, tell all her friends it was a lie, get back in contact with me and tell me she was on meds and going to therapy and everything was getting better, and then a few weeks later she’d be posting about how abusive I was again and blocking me everywhere. It felt like there was nothing I could do - if I ignored it, she’d step it up to get a reaction, and if I did acknowledge it, she’d step it up anyway because I was reacting.

Finally, FINALLY, I threatened to get a restraining order and everything stopped.

Almost two years pass and nothing. I’m now happily engaged to a wonderful girl who was my best friend throughout that whole relationship and knew exactly how affected I was by it. I’m going to therapy, was diagnosed with PTSD, and have been slowly moving on. I still have nightmares about her, and sometimes things will get me (e.g. a few months ago I saw someone who looked like her on TV unexpectedly and had a panic attack), but things are good. Much better. I was thinking of it all much less, I wasn’t dedicating energy to it, I wasn’t even angry or upset anymore, it was just a past lesson I’d learned and didn’t need to worry about anymore.

Then last week I wake up to a message. Again, it’s been two years.

Now, this message was LONG. It was from my ex, apologising for everything she’d done. It was a genuinely nice message and clearly had a lot of thought in it. She said she knew it was selfish to message me when I’d moved on but that she had things to say for her own peace of mind. She said she was happy to see I was engaged, that she’s done a lot of self-reflecting and healing. She said she tried to date again and ended up “karma’d “ - that the relationship was scarily similar to ours but with her in my shoes this time - and that it had made her realise just how disgusting her actions had been and how badly she’d fucked me up. She made it clear she wasn’t looking for forgiveness or to reconnect, just to apologise.

Part of me is mildly skeptical because of the fact she’d apologised multiple times before and it never stuck, but the two year gap and the way it’s phrased makes me believe this is truly genuine. She seems to have matured and changed as a person.

Thing is, I just… can’t bring myself to respond. Every time I go to do it, I remember things she said or did to me and just can’t. I feel like if I just responded and said no hard feelings and explicitly told her I have moved on and am doing better, I could give her the same closure that this apology might eventually give me. It would be closing this chapter for good for both of us and I could just never think about her again.

And yet I just. Haven’t. I’m scared to open the window of communication again in any way, I’m scared it’ll be taken back, I’m scared that this will take me back to square one because she’s put herself back in my life (even tangentially) and now I’m thinking about her again after so long of trying so hard to heal.

So WIBTA if I just… didn’t acknowledge it? If I let her essentially wonder forever it it was ever seen or read because I just don’t know what to do about it, even if I’m potentially keeping closure from her for my own comfort?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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chainofclovers · 4 months ago

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I think there’s too much on my mind in just about every category of life because trying to do my work is even more challenging than usual. My work is going fine, but I swear to god I’ll be setting out to do a task that involves checking an email for a link I needed, and then I’ll end up replying to a totally different email, and then that’ll set off a chain of 8 other things I have to write down or otherwise take care of, and I’ll be able to force myself to do maybe 3 of those, and then I look back at my other monitor and realize I still didn’t fucking get that original link. So then I get the link, I do the task. Whew, that’s done. But actually I was just doing that one very specific task so I could procrastinate on a larger, more challenging thing that I literally need to be ready to discuss with my boss in 3 hours, half an hour of which will be taken up with a meeting that could absolutely be an email, and all the time I spent doing these more minor work things while also getting distracted by the rest of my life means I really just screwed myself over.

It’s possible, of course, that this is yet another manifestation of undiagnosed ADHD or whatever. I respect those diagnoses, I respect how real ADHD is, I’ve personally never felt the need to seek anything specific w/r/t that condition…and I also wonder if I’m just too keen to distract myself even from actually sitting down and thinking about all that more seriously LOL.

And the rest of life? My marriage, my friends, my family, all the intricacies there, the very welcome obligations that nonetheless require time and thought. The election. Global conflicts/feeling sick over it. Busyness with volunteering, some of which I do both because I love it and because it feels like a carbon offset of some of the most destructive things related to corporate job. Fandom stuff (I’m still processing how I’m both excited and wary of what an s4 Ted Lasso experience will be like, and trying to actually READ INFORMATION about this “developing story” of the options being picked up and what that actually means), which as always is a source of both creative fun and community and also means exposure to some drama and bullshit, which could skitter off into a million distracting thoughts about whether my own levels of sensitivity, my relationship to my own logic, etc. are within a reasonable range for me. Health stuff, mine and others, although (thankfully!) nothing currently threatening the ability of my loved ones to stay alive. Nursing hurt feelings and the humiliation and obsessive self-questioning that always accompanies any sort of rejection, no matter how much I intellectually get it.

I always feel like I have stretches of months where things are largely going very well, my default is happiness, and then anything negative feels more like an additive, something to process, something I can accommodate because of the calm center of my foundation. And then there are little stretches like this one where my anxiety and distractability have leeched into the foundation and I have to figure out how to rebuild it. (And the weirdness of knowing that feeling sometimes lasts only a few days, sometimes much longer.)

My life is so charmed and so simple and so complicated and so privileged and so exhausting and I should really finish up this deck since I now have only 2.5 hours until I need to have something concrete for my boss.

TL;DR has anyone on this planet figured out the relationship between situational depression/anxiety and the rest of their life? 😆

#about me #personal #hot dork club

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letmeoutofthebasementt · 29 days ago

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Changbin when jealous

SKZ Jealousy series pt. 3: (when they're in a serious relationship do they get jealous at all? What makes them jealous if they get jealous? How do they act in a relationship? What's their response/behavior when jealous? How do they handle it?)

He does get jealous but not as intensely as the others, namely the rest of the hyung line. Another one who keeps it hidden and a secret. He doesn’t make a big deal out of his jealousy and may actively keep it a secret.

Interestingly enough, he tries to hide it but always does something about it. Whether that be getting whoever is making him jealous away from his partner, confronting them, etc. and he definitely always tells those close to him about it for advice on what do to.

Definitely not overtly aggressive or rude with the other party though. I’m getting taking the classy high ground and simultaneously putting him in a place where he seems unbothered and ‘better than’ the other person.

I feel like a lot of his jealousy stems from ‘intuitively’ thinking “Somethings not right here.” And honestly definitely the one whose jealousy is the least unfounded most of the time out of the Hyung line.

He gets jealous when he feels taken for granted. He likes his partner’s full attention and devotion. He likes being appreciated and loved and feeling like his partner cares for him. He also feels jealous when he feels like his partner is getting bored or maybe even when his partner starts seeming boring to him. Like his partner stops wanting to have fun, so things they used to enjoy, etc. then he starts wondering if they’re doing those things still just with someone else.

Another one for jealous pow pow

Definitely likes talking out his jealousy. Setting new boundaries and touching on established ones. Talking about feelings and getting that reassurance that there’s no threat to the relationship and he won’t be replaced or anything. Because he can get very worked up internally when jealous and fall apart internally, while externally he still has a front up. But he just needs that push and it’ll crumble and he’ll talk it all through.

Probably falls into escapism when this happens though. He goes to his vices when he’s jealous or if his partner keeps doing the same things that make him jealous over and over. Or if they simply don’t want to hear him or talk about it. Whether that’s drinking, smoking, even cheating (Not saying it is for him but giving examples) whatever his vices are he falls into them.

He can just be in a very dark place in these situations. It consumes him whole and leaves him raw and battered and honestly just destructive in general. Above all self destructive.

Now he’s very loyal. BUT, if he were to cheat it’d be in this sort of environment. Where he feels unloved and unappreciated and just raw and destructive and abandoned. It’s easy for him to fall into the arms of someone else who gives him just the right attention at the wrong time. Who makes him feel loved and appreciated and cherished and seen and heard.

May even have someone he keeps going back to in this situation if it’s common.

Because when he’s jealous all he craves is love and reassurance and care. And if it happens too much and he doesn’t get it eventually he’ll find it.

He loves very hard and strongly. He feels every love is the love of his life. So jealousy hurts. And he doesn’t try to control his partner or even come off that way. Because he likes free spirits he can respect that. But he also wants to communicate and set boundaries with his partner on what he is and isn’t comfortable with them doing.

Because at the end of the day, if he’s not comfortable in the relationship and can’t trust it’s an issue.

Another who can hold onto his jealousy for a while and let it linger and fester.

Just goes through a lot of fear, pain, suffering, and grief when jealous. But it also forces his rose tinted glasses off and makes him look at the situation at face value for what it is.

And he may not like what he sees.

And that’ll just create a domino effect.

A lot of inner conflict here. He’s a very conflicting person who’s different inside than how he presents himself while still being painfully authentic. But the jealousy throws off this balance and causes internal struggles. He also feels like he’s in competition with whoever or whatever made him jealous. And he’s competitive but also not the type who wants to have to compete for a partner.

Probably the vaguest he’s been but the topic is probably upsetting him/his energy so I’ll let it be.

#Changbin #seo Changbin #kpop tarot #kpop astrology #stray kids tarot #stray kids #skz #stray kids changbin #skz changbin #Changbin tarot #Changbin astrology #stray kids astrology #stray kids headcanons #Changbin headcanons

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yall-batman-fanfic · 22 days ago

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Two Face | Bruce Wayne/Batman x Reader!Magician ft Harvey Dent/Two-Face

Synopsis: Before becoming Two-Face, Harvey Dent was Bruce’s best friend. He told Harvey everything about Vivian that he could share. But who knew from a man Bruce and Vivian would consider a friend, he turned to be the very center of their nightmares.

~ Many Years Ago ~

“You’re joking, right?” Harvey laughed as he placed down his drink, completely forgetting about it.

It was a Thursday, and it was one of the rare nights he and Bruce had a free schedule for them to catch up in life. Being the DA and being the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar empire takes more than enough of their time. It was a wonder how both men even had the time to date, especially Bruce who is a known workaholic.

“I’m not,” Bruce chuckled.

“Bruce Wayne, walking in a thrift shop because his girlfriend wanted to buy him a toy from his favorite childhood show. That’s both hilarious and adorable. What was the toy again?’

“It’s a figurine of the Gray Ghost. But that wasn’t all she bought, Vivian’s actually frequent in that shop, turns out she likes music.”

“Who doesn’t like music, Bruce?” Harvey scoffed.

“What I mean is — when did you last hear or saw Grace listening to Metallica? Nirvana? Or how about the Stones?”

“Not really her cup of tea.”

“Or better yet, play an electric guitar? It’s not that I’m saying that no girl likes those things, it’s just not what I expected Vivian to be into. I had the feeling she was more interested in classical music given her profession.”

“Well, she’s the very embodiment of don’t judge a book by it’s cover,” Harvey shrugged. “I bet she even has a tattoo.”

“She does. But it’s hidden.”

“How do you – oh!” Harvey playfully punched Bruce at the side. “You sly dog, you never told me!”

“I don’t really ask you about your nights with Grace, Harvey,” Bruce shrugged. His phone beeped, and Bruce excused himself to check it for a moment. From his sudden serious face, expecting it to be a work emergency, Bruce Wayne smiled softly as he read the message.

Harvey smirked as he watched Bruce type down a reply to the sender and didn’t bother to tease him on how long it was taking him. It was rare to see Bruce just relax. To get his guard down. To smile as he texted back to a girl he really likes. When was the last time Bruce ever smiled like that?

Julie Madison. His first love, and for a moment, Bruce thought of proposing to her while they were still in uni, but then Julie and Bruce broke up and went their separate ways. Some say it was Julie who ended things because there was someone else, while others claim it has something to do with Bruce’s disappearance the next day after they ended it. He couldn’t be found for years until his return to Gotham to reclaim in seat as the heir to his family’s company.

On his return, Bruce led a self-destructive lifestyle, if Harvey was asked, parties every night, trips outside the country with girls and booz; there were days when he would come back home with a broken leg or a broken arm because of those escapades.

“I guess I partied more than I can handle,” Bruce would say whenever Harvey would chastise him about it.

Then he turned his life around, and suddenly took things seriously. The parties stopped, but there were still the flings with models every night. At least he was tamed. Then came Professor Vivian Pryor.

A nobody but for her the academia circle. The first time Harvey heard of Vivian Pryor was from Bruce when the man mentioned to him about this debuting author who was going to donate half of her book’s sales to the Martha Wayne Foundation. When he asked why, Bruce said that Vivian Pryor was someone who the Martha Wayne Foundation helped with her studies. It was her way of giving back to the organization.

“She’s pretty cute,” Harvey said as they looked at the profile Bruce printed out to find more about this Vivian Pryor enigma. “But other than that, there are no records. What is she? A ghost?”

“Maybe,” Bruce muttered. “Other than her credit card, her apartment, her degrees, and jobs, that’s all there is on Vivian Pryor.”

Harvey grinned. “You going to her book launch?”

“I have to, she donated a lot of money to the Foundation. I should at least thank her in person.”

“And find out who she is. Admit it, the mystery intrigues you, Bruce.”

“A little.”

“And the fact she’s cute too.”

Bruce chuckled then.

He laughed about it then, but now, as they sit in the restaurant he Bruce was texting like a teenage boy to his girlfriend like a love struck puppy.

“Sorry, Vivian was just… nevermind,” Bruce hid his phone.

“I never thought I’d see the day. My Brucie is smitten by a girl.”

“Harv,” Bruce never liked it when people called him that. Even his mother never did, so he never liked it.

“Kidding! But come on, man, months dating and I haven’t even met the girl. We gotta set up a double date some day!”

“How’s your calendar looking then?” Bruce teased him.

“Right,” Harvey laughed awkwardly. “But seriously, Bruce. A double date, me and Grace, and you and Professor Pryor! It’ll be fun! What could possibly go wrong?”

~*~

He really shouldn’t be there, but he needed to at least let her understand what happened. Bruce was doing so well for the past few months, and Harvey knew that it wasn’t Vivian’s problem nor was it her responsibility to make sure Bruce was okay, but how could he just let a good thing end with one mistake.

It wasn’t even a mistake at all!

The gun was for self-defense, Harvey told Bruce over and over but the man simply hated guns. Harvey even has a gun of his own for personal protection. With the nature of his work, the mayor and the Commissioner advised he has one with him at all times.

“You’ve made a list of enemies around you, Mr. Dent,” Gordon said then. “Powerful enemies. It’s best if you have a way to protect yourself.”

After getting to know Vivian for a while now, learning about her first year in Gotham, the many times she got caught in the crossfire of some rivaling gang or someone robbing the bank, or mugging her, he understood her decision to carry a gun.

“I just don’t know how to break it to Bruce,” Vivian sighed when they spoke. It was during an event by Bruce where Vivian snuck to the balcony to get some air and Harvey found her staring at her glass of wine. “And here I thought a pregnancy scare is harder than telling someone I have a gun in my purse.”

Harvey laughed but then he looked at he and asked, “You’re not really…”

“Calm down, I’m not. We’re doing it protected. Safe. I’m taking contraceptive pills,” Vivian reassured him.

“Phew — not that I don’t welcome the idea of getting a nephew or a niece from Bruce to spoil rotten but you know.”

“I know. How am I going to tell him, Harvey?”

Harvey shrugged. “You know, there never really is the right time to tell someone bad news.”

“Not really helpful.”

“How about you flip for it?” Harvey pulled out his lucky coin. “Heads you tell him tonight, tails you try to sell the gun before he finds out and then tell him.”

“That easy?” Vivian laughed.

“I can help you with the paperwork, that is if the coin lands on tails. See it as a friend helping out.”

“Fine, let’s see what fate has to say.”

Harvey flipped the coin and lets it land on his palm. They both leaned in to check. Heads.

“You’re telling him then,” Harvey had a lopsided grin.

Vivian sighed. “Anything to ease the news?”

“It’s best that it comes from you than him finding out on his own.”

Vivian swore that she’ll tell Bruce that night, but before she could Bruce found the gun in her apartment and a heated argument happened, which ended with him slamming the door and storming out of the building. He didn’t speak to Vivian for days after that. Vivian tried to reach out but after leaving voicemails after voicemails, she knew when she’s not wanted and just stopped too.

Now, here he was, Harvey Dent walking through Gotham University in hopes of speaking to Vivian. He thought it would be hard to find her but turns out he had good timing because Vivian was just leaving a class to head for lunch when he came to the building.

“Harvey, what are you doing here?” Vivian asked.

Harvey shrugged. “Wanna get some lunch? My treat.”

They went to a nearby diner that served good food and decent coffee. Vivian ordered a cheeseburger and Harvey got the same.

“Did you know Bruce eats these with a knife and fork?” Harvey started.

Vivian sighed.

“Right…”

“I suppose this isn’t just the District Attorney taking out a friend for lunch, huh?”

“It is, I swear! But yeah…” Harvey sighed. “Bruce told me what happened.”

“Did he now?”

“Go talk to him, Viv.”

“You think I haven’t tried? I’ve been trying to call him, Harvey. He’s not answering my calls. I love him, Harvey, I do but… I don’t want to make a scene at Wayne Enterprises just to see him… even Alfred said it’s best to let him come to me. If this is his way of saying it’s done, then fine. I’ll accept it. But can I at least hear it from you so I could put it out there that Vivian Pryor is available again but not looking for someone right now?”

Harvey ran his hand down his face. Why are they both such stubborn people? How does it even work with them both?

“It’s not over, Viv. I know Bruce. He won’t just ghost someone if he wants to break up with them. He just has a tendency to shut himself off from the world. Believe it or not, but Bruce has anxiety.”

“I know,” Vivian frowned. “And I understand where he’s coming from.”

Her mother, Harvey remembered, was a victim of a serial killer back in Liverpool. Madeline Pryor’s eyes were cleanly torn out of her eye sockets and no one knows what the killer does to their eyes nor do they understand the serial killer at all. All it says in the report was that the serial killer called the Corinthian was found dead in a serial killer convention.

While Vivian didn’t see the act be done, Harvey could only imagine the horror of seeing one’s mother on the ground, mutilated. The nightmares it would bring a kid.

For years I forbade my brother and sister to walk home alone or leave the house at night, Vivian once told him when she told them the story of her mother. It was Grace who asked about her parents and they were not ready for the tale she had to tell.

Harvey reached out and patted her hand. “Have faith. Bruce will come back. For the longest time I’ve known him, it’s only with you that he gets to smile. Not the bullshit smile he always has but actually smiles. The way he looks at you, that’s not something he does with his exes.

“I know I can’t force you to go to him yourself, but just wait… if you want, we can flip for it.”

Vivian chuckled. “Heads I wait until he comes to me, tails I got to Wayne Enterprise and barge in his office.”

Harvey chuckled and got out his lucky coin and flipped it.

Heads.

He chuckled. “Even the odds are in your favor.”

Vivian sighed. “Fine… thanks, Harvey.”

~*~

Harvey Dent what have you done?

In that moment, Harvey have taken control of his body once again from Two-Face as he saw Vivian’s horrified look on her face as she clutched her very pregnant belly, and when she checked her hands she turned pale at the sight of the blood that came out gushing.

“No, no, no — Vivian!” Harvey ran to her before she could fall off the platform she was on for a lecture she was having about a relic they added to Gotham Museum. The relic that Two-Face wanted.

How could he do such a thing? And to Vivian! How could he do this to Bruce and Vivian?! Just as he was doing so well in Arkham, Bruce visited him to tell him the good news of Vivian being pregnant and was closes to her delivery date. He hoped by then Harvey would be cleared, and that he could proceed with the surgery to fix the other half of his face to fully help him heal.

Bruce who was always looking after him.

Bruce who has been nothing but a good friend to him.

Bruce and Vivian who never lost faith in his recover.

How could he do such a thing?! How could he hurt them like this?

“No, no, Vivian! I’m so sorry! Please — HELP! CALL 911! PLEASE!” Harvey held the woman as she froze in shock with the sight of the blood. As she cradled her womb where her unborn child was. When no one moved, Harvey took his tommy gun and pointed at them. “I SAID CALL 911!”

“Please, please, stay with me,” Vivian cried but her cries were slowly turning sluggish as she was slowly passing out. “Please, my baby girl, don’t leave me. Stay with me. We’ll be okay. Dada’s coming. He’ll be here and all with be okay.”

Tears fell from Harvey’s eyes as he watched Vivian hold her pregnant belly, hoping it would shield her unborn child from Death. “I’m so sorry, Vivian — I SAID CALL 911!”

Cries left Vivian’s lips as she begged that her daughter be alright, begged that Bruce would come to save them, then she started to speak in gibberish. Harvey couldn’t understand what she was talking about or what language it was, but it was something he wasn’t familiar with. She didn’t care where she was now and who held her, all that mattered was her daughter's life.

“Please, Mother, please don’t take her,” Vivian begged, her gaze beyond Harvey’s shoulder. “Please, no… not my little girl… please. Not yet, I’ll do anything, please…”

God, please, let the child live.

Please don’t take the child from them this early.

“Boss, we need to go!” one of Two-Face’s henchmen approached him.

“Get away from her!” Harvey swung his gun at them. “No one touches her! Vivian, I’m so sorry! The ambulance is coming, the baby is going to be okay — I promise, she has to be okay!”

“Drop the gun, Dent!” Batman came swinging in the scene.

“Batman! Batman, she needs help!” Harvey called out to him, carrying Vivian in his arms he ran to the Dark Knight and handed her to him.

Batman was in shock as he gave Vivian to him. “No,” Batman gasped.

“Batman,” Robin froze in shock as well.

“I SURRENDER!” Harvey declared as GCPD entered the vicinity. “I SURRENDER! JUST GET HER TO A HOSPITAL, PLEASE! SAVE HER AND SAVE THE BABY! CALL BRUCE WAYNE AND TELL HIM! PLEASE! JUST SAVE HER!”

The last Harvey saw of Vivian was Batman fleeing with her in his arms, and brought to the closest hospital there was.

The next he saw Vivian was on the front page of the news with the headline about the Waynes losing their child during a robbery by Two-Face. Harvey cried in his cell that day, and was inconsolable.

~*~

It took a while but Harvey’s wishes to see Bruce and Vivian were finally answered. After days of sending letters and trying to call Wayne Manor, Bruce and Vivian were finally there to see him.

Rather it was just Bruce.

His best friend. Bruce Wayne.

Bruce who always had a smile when they saw each other.

Bruce who was always there for him and paid every medical expense there was to help heal him.

Bruce who looked like a broken man, who he was right now. After losing his unborn daughter, Harvey could only imagine the grief he was going through. Taking the phone, Harvey waited for Bruce to pick up the connected phone at the other side of the glass. For a long moment Bruce only looked in the blank space – he had deep bags under his blood-shot eyes. His beard was slowly growing, he probably didn’t care to shave for the past weeks.

He finally picked up the phone.

“Bruce, I’m so sorry,” Harvey began. “I’m so sorry, I heard what happened to the baby — how’s Vivian?”

“What do you think?” Bruce said, his voice cold and harsh.

Harvey was near to tears. The once kind hearted and patient friend was gone. Gone for him. “Bruce… you have no idea how —”

“We’ve taken down the nursery,” Bruce croaked as the image of the boxes filled with the baby clothes, the crib, the toys, and books were taken out by Alfred, Dick, Tim, and Jason. “Vivian has been in bed rest for the past few weeks. She doesn’t talk, barely eats, and she doesn’t sleep. She’s just there but absent. So do not ask me how my wife is because I don’t know what to do — I don’t know what to do to save her!”

Harvey couldn’t stop the tears as he kept repeating his apology.

“We named her Helena,” Bruce continued, not sure why he was even telling Harvey this. “I buried her in our garden where we can see her with the flowers… Vivian always wanted to make flower crowns with her when she… She was so small that I could hold her with one hand…”

“I know and I understand if you will never forgive me but I want to see Vivian — I want to apologize to her—”

“Do you really think I’ll let my wife go through this hell to see the man who killed our daughter?”

It was wrong. Wrong to blame Harvey when it was Two-Face who did this, but Bruce was too clouded with rage and grief to not see the victim behind the glass. Only the criminal who did all this. Only Two–Face.

“Vivian has had enough death in her life. She doesn’t need this. And this will be the last time, Harvey,” Bruce slammed the phone back and left.

Harvey didn’t see Bruce again for many years nor did he ever see Vivian. If he did, then it was Two-Face taking control then. Good. He wasn’t sure if he could take it if he faced them too.

~ Now ~

A visitor.

Harvey never gets visitors, yet one morning he was told that he got a surprise visitor who wanted to see him urgently. He thought it was Jim for a case the Commissioner had going on, or Harvey Bullock, so he didn’t bother to look up and see who it was and just went to the seat and picked up the phone without looking up.

“Jim?” Harvey began.

“Hello, Harvey.”

Harvey froze. That voice. It’s been so long but he knew that voice anywhere. Finally looking up, Harvey saw Vivian Pryor-Wayne. She’s changed since they last saw each other. More mature, he was sure to see a few strands of white hair at bangs, and her smile wasn’t the same as it was before. Or maybe it’s because she was there with him. Was it that long now?

“Vivian?” Saying her name felt foreign now after so long of not using it. “What are you… where’s Bruce?”

“He’s outside. I asked if I could speak to you alone,” she replied. “It’s been a long time. Years since I saw you.”

“It’s always the other guy, isn’t it?” Harvey’s eyes downcasted.

Vivian didn’t reply.

“What are you doing here, Viv?”

“I… there’s something I want to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I’m pregnant, Harvey.”

Harvey slightly jumped at the news. “You are?”

“Yeah,” she chuckled but it was fleeting. “Surprised me and Bruce too. I mean, I’m in my forties now, who would have thought, right? I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but I feel like you should know… maybe it could help in your healing?”

Even now she wishes for him to heal?

“Congratulations,” Harvey pressed his hand on the glass. “I’m so happy for you — for you and Bruce.”

“It took me a long time before I could find the courage to face you. A lot has happened that gave me the strength to finally see you again after all this time… I had a dream, a really nice dream and in that dream I got to hold my Helena. I think that’s what I really needed because all these years I still crave the chance to hold her…

“And I can let go of the anger now and the hatred, and I can see clearly again. I understand now that it was Two-Face who did it, not you… but please understand I don’t think I can ever forgive you fully just yet. There are still nights when I would dream of that day and even now as I sit here my heart is beating fast and my palms are sweaty.”

“Then why come here then?”

“To give you closure for what happened then.”

“What’s the point of closure if there is no forgiveness.”

Vivian smiled sadly. “Forgiveness is not needed for closure. A person can live on without forgiving… But maybe I can in the future but not right now.” Vivian reached out and placed her hand on Harvey’s over the glass. “Goodbye, Harvey.”

She placed back the phone and got up to leave.

Harvey returned to his cell in Arkham once again and laid in his bed. This time he was able to sleep, not soundly, but he was able to rest without the broken record of that day playing over and over in his mind.

It wasn’t forgiveness, but it was closure to see Vivian again and know that the Waynes were given another chance.

#batman #batman x reader #bruce wayne #dc fanfic #fanfic #batman fanfiction #batfam

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