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danveration · 10 months ago

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Sleep well, amour.

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: You’ve been very intrested in Alastor ever since you met him. He invites you to see his recording studio, which you accept. Then you ask if you can stay and listen to him host! While listening, you fall asleep. How does he react?

Word count: 2844

Warnings: Ummm not really much? Alastor being Alastor! One mention of not being able to sleep sometimes, mention of seeing people in hell doing dr*gs, k*lling eachother, and fighting, mention of reader having bad social skills (?)

part two

A/N: UM!! this is my first time writing for alastor, so apologies if it isn’t the best. Please give me any feedback you want, I’d love to hear it! Also sorry for any spelling mistakes. I hope you enjoy :’)

Alastor the radio demon. You know of the things he’s done, you know that people are quite literally terrified of him. But for some reason... you feel a certain way towards him that you can’t describe, but it’s surely not fear.

You’ve had a some-what odd admiration of him since you landed in hell, only a few months ago. You got spotted by Charlie when you first got to hell. She noticed you looking around nervously and lost, and put two and two together that you must be new. She very kindly introduced herself which was refreshing because.. well.. it’s hell. Everywhere you looked people were fighting, doing drugs, and even killing each other. You were glad there were kind people even down here.

“Hi, you! Uh, you lost?” Charlie smiled you and waved.

“Um yeah! I’m guessing this is hell, huh?” You awkwardly chuckle. Social skills weren’t ever your thing, it seems they haven’t got better after you died, either.

“Yep! This is hell! You must be new? I’m Charlie! Charlie Morningstar. It’s so nice to meet you.” She smiled and stuck out her hand for you to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Charlie! My names Y/n.” You politely smiled back and shook her hand.

After that meeting, Charlie showed you to the hotel in which you eagerly accepted to stay at, her being the only sane thing you’ve seen down here. It was a pretty nice place, no 5 star hotel like back on earth, but it was something you’re very grateful for. Who knows what would’ve happened to you if you haven’t met her.

While she was showing you around, someone caught your eye. He was a tall man, very polite and respectful looking. He was dressed head to toe in old fashioned attire, with a cane to suit his charming look. He was smiling in a way that made you look at him like he was something you wanted to inspect under a magnifying glass.

He glanced at you and smiled larger, stepping over to you and Charlie.

“My, my! What do we have here? Charlie! You didn’t tell me that we’ve got more guests? It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear! The names Alastor!” He spoke politely.

His voice was sort of.. Radio-like? You found it soothing.

“Haha yeah! I found them wandering around on the street this morning! They’re a newcomer, their name is Y/n.” She spoke back, excited to introduce you.

“Y/n! Well, my, my. That’s quite a lovely name!” He said. “Say.. do you listen to radio? I host a brilliant radio broadcast that’ll give you some real insight on this place!” He said enthusiastically.

“Oh.. haha thank you” You smile. “I do actually! I love radio shows.” You immediately feel drawn towads him. You cant tell if it’s just the new scenery or what.. but you want to just sit and chat with him for hours.

Alastor perks up at that. “Oh you do, do you?” He smiled more.

“Yeah! Back when I was.. uhm.. alive, I actually had a whole playlist of them! What do you do your show about?” You ask.

Alastor is delighted to have you take interest in his show. “Well, dear, I do all sorts of things on there! Yes, yes, you think of it and I’ve most probably done it! Most commonly known is the souls I entrap and prison, as I broadcast their screams of horror all over this horrible place and people get to hear the noises of their never-ending torture and demise. But! I also just made a wonderful segment on my mother’s Jambalaya recipe!” He stated.

While part of those sentences gave you chills, you still seemed to take interest in him.

“Well,” you chuckle. “I will certainly check it out!” You smile.

“Ah! Wonderful news, my dear.” He said while he twirled his cane.

Charlie was watching you interact with him and noticed how you looked at him, as if admiring. She smile and said, “well! We better finish the tour.”

She motions for you to follow her and you do, waving Alastor goodbye.

He waves back and yells, “goodbye, sweetheart! Lovely to have met you.”

After that, you wanted absolutely everything to do with him. You’ve also got to know the other people staying at the hotel. Angel, Vaggie, Husk, Niffty, and Sir Pentious. They were overall kind people. Husk found your interest in Alastor to be no good.

“Yeah, no. That, whatever thing you have created in your mind about him, isn’t true. He’s vile, Y/n. Trust me on that.” He grunts.

Angel thought you had some kind of kink towards “scary, creepy men.” Which wasn’t true because you didn’t even find him scary. You found him charming.

“Ah.. Alastor? Fucking sexy weirdo if I do say so myself. He’s got some reaaal problems but hey, if you’re into that-“ You cut him off by saying it wasn’t like that & that you don’t think anything sexual towards him.

One day, you were talking to Sir Pentious about his “crush” on Cherry Bomb. He completely denied it but you could tell from his blush and his nervous demeanour that he was very interested in her.

You were caught off guard when you heard that radio voice coming up from behind you.

“Y/n, my dear! I have a question for you.” Alastor came and stood beside you, looking down from where you’re sitting.

“Al! Hey, what’s up?” You ask, containing your excitement.

Sir Pentious excused himself quickly, seeing one of his “egg boys” were being played with by Niffty. She isn’t one to be gentle.

“So, I know how you’ve been listening to my radio show as of late, and I was wondering if you’d like to see where the magic happens!” He states.

“R-really? I’d be honoured!” You say, smiling.

“Ah! Lovely. Come now, this way.”

You get up and he locks arms with you and chats about his new microphone that he got.

Once you guys arrive, you’re shocked. It looks very professional and comfortable. It suits him heavily. There’s a big open window, a desk, some chairs and sofas, a bunch of technical stuff on the desk along with his new mic that you recognize from his descriptions, and a deer coat hanger?

“Wow, Alastor. This place is so actually so sick. I love it. And the new microphone suits you!” You say. “Thank you for showing me, really.”

Typically, Alastor would never show someone something personal of his, including his studio, but you are an exception. He isn’t sure what it is about you but he doesn’t seem to hate you as much as he does with anyone else. At first he was weirded out, but now he just embraces it. He also feels protective of you. He doesn’t know exactly why you’re even down here. For as far is he can tell, you’re an angel. Always being kind even to those who aren’t kind to you, always saying “please” and “thank you,” all that jazz. Jazz! You even like jazz music, his favourite. He told you that he lived on earth the time jazz music was popular. The 20’s and 30’s. That explains his vocabulary and how he dresses. You just find it more interesting and take time to ask questions about what it was like in that time.

“Why of course, my dear! If I’d want to show anyone here, it would be you.” He says, giving you his iconic smile.

You have a thought. “Hey, Al? Would it be alright if the next time you do a show, I could stay and listen?”

You hope he doesn’t think this is odd.

Alastor raises a brow. “Why would you want to do that?” He asks.

You panic, thinking you went too far by asking and now he’s going to cut you off or something.

“Ha! Kidding, sweetheart! Of course you can. I love when my broadcast is wanted to be listened to. Though I love it as well when they don’t want to.” He says.

You’re relieved, a bit scared, but still relieved.

“Say!” He says. “I was going to make one tonight talking about this silly technology box that thinks he is better than me! You know, expose all his lies and secrets to my listeners, and unwilling listeners. Maybe broadcast it all throughout hell!” He starts laughing manically. Then calms down and stares at you.

“Would you want to stay and listen, hm? I can do it now! I didn’t have any plans today going forward and well, getting it out sooner is better than later, I always say.” He asks.

You know he’s talking about Vox when he mentioned the technology box. Him and Vox have a sort of rivalry going on. Though Alastor seems to not care much about him, Vox is sure obsessed. He’s even gone so far as to making posters about him. Which areee.. not much of a resemblance.

This offer strikes you and you immediately perk up. “Yes! I’d love to.” You say.

You don’t think Alastor knows this but whenever you’re struggling to sleep, you put on his radio show and his voice comforts you to sleep. You’re sure if you told him, he would find it weird.

Little did you know, Alastor already knew. He walked past your room one night and heard static sounds coming from your quarters. He immediately was intrigued and put his ear close to your door to hear his voice. He was surprised, but not weirded out. He found it delightful that you found comfort in his voice. It’s not everyday someone does. Usually it invokes terror and anxiety on anyone who hears. This was new, and he didn’t hate it.

“Lovely! Let me get all set up. You can sit wherever you feel the most comfortable!” He says, adjusting his mic and pressing a buttons on his table.

You find a spot and sit down. Feeling honored to even be in the same room as him, let alone HIS room.

“Ahem! Welcome ladies and gentlemen-“ He goes off into his introduction, before winking at you and starting.

After about 20 minutes, you begin to feel tired and put your head on the side of the wall, still listening but with your eyes closed.

Alastor immediately notices and smirks, knowing how his voice effects you. He continues on and after about another 20 minutes, he finishes up. You’re asleep, slightly smiling.

He walks over to you and looks down.

“My, my. You really are an interesting one, aren’t you?” He whispers. He smiles more softly than he usually does and looks around to find a purple blanket hanging on his deer coat hanger, and gently places it on you.

He feels his heart fluttering while looking down at you and he immediately shrugs it off.

“Mm well, my dear.. I guess you can stay here. I’ll just be over there, transferring my broadcast to the other radios around town.” He says and points to his table.

“Sleep well, amour.” He speaks softly.

#:alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon x reader #the radio demon x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader hazbin hotel #hes so pookie bear guys UGUHG #i love him sm #my works #alastor imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor x you

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moonstruckme · 5 months ago

Note

Are you going to continue the roomate James series? I’m actually in love with it😍

Yes! Thank you for reading <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 804 words

“Honey, I’m home!”

A smile tugs at your lips, even as you roll your eyes to yourself. James has become more and more fond of these pet names, and of announcing his comings and goings like he’s worried you’ll miss him. (He’s never gone long enough for that, though you might actually miss him if he were.) If you don’t respond in some way or another, he’ll—

“Hey.” He pokes his head through your cracked door. “You alive in here?”

You pause in folding your laundry to give him a deadpan look. “I could have been in my underwear.”

He looks mildly horrified. “I’d hope if you were, you’d close the door all the way.”

“You know, I did manage to stay alive even before you moved in.”

James leans on your doorframe, giving you the sort of lazy grin you have to pretend doesn’t scare butterflies into flight in your stomach. You really hope that wears off soon. “See, but now I’m convinced if I don’t check on you, you really will die and it’ll be my fault.”

“How would it be your fault?”

“Classic case of roommate neglect. I smell the rotting coming from inside your room, the police come, they ask How did you not know your roommate was dead for a month? I reply, Well, officer, she said she could be galavanting in her underwear at any moment. They put me in handcuffs and I spend the next five to fifteen years having Sirius bring me cigarettes I don’t want so that I can trade them for ramen noodles in the yard.”

You scoff, fighting a smile. “As if you would ever eat ramen.”

“That’s what I’m saying, sweetheart. You’d be forcing me upon desperate times. But hey,” he raises his hands in a show of surrender, “I didn’t come in here to discuss prison currency. Would it be alright with you if I had friends over tonight?”

“Of course,” you say, looking back down to match a pair of socks. “You don’t need to ask every time, it’s always alright.”

“Thanks,” he says warmly, “but it makes me feel better to ask. What do you want on your pizza?”

You blink. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” He smiles. Butterflies all over again. “You don’t have to hang out with us to eat it—though we’d love to have you—but I’m not just going to order pizza to your own apartment without having any for you.”

“It’s your apartment, too,” you remind him. “That’d be a very normal thing to do.”

“Irregardless.” James waves you off. You wrinkle your nose at the word choice. “What do you want?”

You swallow a sigh. There are some things, you’ve found, James is nearly impossible to argue with about. If you really dig your heels in, sometimes you can make him move first, but you don’t feel like it right now.

You do the next best thing you can think of: choosing the least obtrusive option. “Cheese is good with me, thanks.”

His eyes narrow like he knows what you’re doing, but he says, “Got it. I’ll let you know when it’s here.”

“Thanks.” You turn your attention back to your laundry. James lingers in the doorway.

A month ago, you would have kept ignoring him, working on the (unfounded) hope that he’d go away. Now, you look up.

“Do you think you might come downstairs and hang out?” he asks. He has a strange look on his face, one you can’t quite decipher. “You know you’re always invited.”

You give James a terse sort of smile. He’s not stopped inviting you to do things since the day he moved in. Your open invitation has been made very clear, and you’ve been accepting it more often lately. James is someone who makes it easy to feel close to him. He tosses pet names at you like they’re nothing, comes to check on you when he gets home, pretends he needs to go grocery shopping just because you need a ride to the store. Last week, you’d sat down to watch a movie with him and woken up to a black screen, your cheek smushed into his shoulder and his head resting atop yours.

Somehow, you’ve let him spill into your life without meaning to, and now you have these childish, crush-like reactions whenever he smiles a certain way or calls you pet names with that familiar bent to his voice. You know you just need time to sort these feelings out. It’d probably be ideal to keep yourself from spilling into his life as much as possible in the meantime.

But it’s hard to deny James anything when he’s so sweet to you. And he’s nice. His friends seem nice.

“I might,” you say.

“I’ll take the win,” James replies, smiling. These butterflies are seriously inconvenient.

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loveharlow · 9 months ago

Text

SEVEN - 002

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[6.5k] based on 1x02.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of parental neglect, mild violence, mentions of death/grief, disturbance of a graveyard (?)

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ I've been wanting to do an OBX rewrite for a very long time so here it is, the first chapter from yours truly.

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

“DO YOU REALLY THINK BIG JOHN COULD STILL BE ALIVE?” Kiara’s slightly digitally distorted voice came from the other end of the line. Your phone was pressed between your ear and shoulder as you searched the hangers in your closet, bath towel wrapped snug around your frame and your hair thrown up into a bun, which was presenting more like a mess of damp strands.

“It doesn’t matter what we think, Kie,” You made clear, eyeing a cute shirt you thought you’d lost. “We should just be there for him.”

“Yeah… but what if we’re just feeding into a fantasy? Wouldn’t that make us bad friends if we weren’t honest with him?” You could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the phone as well, dresser drawers slamming occasionally.

“Maybe you’re right.” You sighed, throwing your outfit onto your bed and heading back into the closet to find a bikini to wear underneath. Living in the Outer Banks meant you had a plethora to choose from. “But the way I see it? If it were my dad that went missing, I’d be looking for him too. I’d give anything to even have that small hope that my dad was still alive back, but I know he isn’t… so, I understand.”

“I didn’t think about it like that…” It was sad to hear her so conflicted, as if she’d said the wrong thing.

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to. And I would never want you to be able to understand that feeling. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” You reassured, putting the girl on speaker to toss the phone on your bed and slipping the bikini you picked out onto your frame and tying the respective knots. “That’s why if John B thinks his dad is alive and wants to look for him? That’s what we’re gonna do. Because alive or not, John B is like a brother to me and leaving him to do this alone is what would make us bad friends.”

“I guess you’re right…are you still meeting up with the guys today?”

“Just J and John B for right now. Pope said he’d be around later after helping his pops.” You told her, slipping an oversized shirt over top of the bikini, eyeing your closet shelves for a pair of shorts.

“Alright, I might swing by if my parents aren’t up my ass about work.” She complained. “Talk to you later.”

“Later.” Was all you said before the end-call sound rang out in the expanse of your bedroom.

A swift series of knocks met your closed door from the other side, you shouted for them to come in, assuming it was either your mother or your dog Marley’s tail hitting the wood. The 2-year-old golden retriever had a knack for sitting outside your bedroom door on the rare occasion that it was closed and she wasn’t inside.

The knob twisted and in walked your mother, adorned in her signature navy blue pencil skirt and blazer, still a half hour to spare before she had to head off to her office for work. Rebecca Reyes was the Outer Banks’ most notable and renowned lawyer. Even when you still lived on The Cut all those months ago, she was still the island's number one defender. Moving to Figure Eight and getting rich, almost overnight, just gave her the resources she needed. You still questioned where all the money spawned from, chopping it down to your father’s life insurance coming through.

But the bank said that could take a while and you never assumed it was enough to buy a house on Figure Eight. But that’s adult stuff, you thought to yourself.

“You got home late yesterday,” She began bluntly, adjusting the diamond bracelet on her wrist. The smell of her expensive perfume already wafting into your space. “Where were you?”

“Just out with John B and the others.” You said with a shrug, walking out the closet with a pair of sneakers in your hands as you undid the tied laces.

She hummed, eyeing the space around you as if she’d never seen it before. “Did you hear about the boat they’re searching for? Scooter Grubbs’ boat?”

You side eyed her quickly, not quick enough for her to catch however. “Yeah, the whole island is losing their minds over it.”

“You and your friends haven’t come across anything, have you?”

“...I doubt we’d have any luck coming across a Grady-White, mom. Especially after the hurricane. That boat could be oceans away for all we know.”

“Right.” She agreed, but she seemed far away. Off. Why’d she care about Scooter Grubbs’ boat? “And what’s this I hear about some kid with a gun at The Point?” Your heart dropped.

“A gun?” You acted semi-shocked. “I don’t know, I wasn’t there.”

“Hm.” She droned. “Well, if you find anything don’t hesitate to tell me. Or Shoupe, for that matter. He said two out of towners showed up for the boat search yesterday, looked sketchy. So, be careful.”

You hummed in agreement, watching as the woman strutted out of the room without even a small ‘goodbye’.

You and your mother were nowhere near as close as you used to be. Your father’s passing caused a rift between the two of you that seemed irreparable. You just felt like she had become so cold and closed off, nothing like the woman who used to bake every weekend or plan family nights in the backyard. She was more secretive, dismissive. You couldn’t even remember what her smile looked like. She’d changed so much. She used to hate Sheriff Shoupe, said he was a dirty cop who worked under the rich snobs of Figure Eight. Now, it’s like they’re business partners of some sort and she is a rich snob on Figure Eight.

She even changed her last name back after your father died and wouldn’t tell you why. That was what made you feel the most alone. Rebecca Carter was now Rebecca Reyes but you were still Y/N Carter and your father would always be Owen Carter.

It was like she was trying to erase him and everything they’d built together.

You hated to admit that sometimes you wondered what your father would think of the woman she’s become. If she would be as unrecognizable to him as she is to you.

YOU SAT IN THE BACK OF THE VAN, legs bent as your journal rested atop your thighs while you scribbled down your thoughts and recent events — namely the events of yesterday. You had one earbud in, your playlist on shuffle as you half-listened into JJ and John B’s conversation that was happening in the front seat, the bumpy ride making your handwriting a bit chicken scratch-ish.

“I don’t understand why you don’t at least try with Kiara,” JJ started, his heavy boots kicked up on the dashboard. “She clearly likes you. She’s like ‘Oh, John B!’. She’s sketchy about you diving and then she kissed you, bro.” The blonde continued.

“She kissed me on the cheek. It’s not like we were makin’ out.” John B denied, brushing off the girl’s clear affections.

“Low-hanging fruit, bro.” JJ cut him off, the statement making you cringe in silence as you continued to scribble. “I see it in your eyes. You’re like ‘I kind of like that’.” JJ said in a mockingly low and seductive voice.

“Okay, you want to talk about me?”

“Yeah, bro, I wanna talk about you and your lack of game.”

“My lack- my lack of game? Okay, what game do you have, JJ? ‘Cause I haven’t seen any improvement in your case.” JJ’s head whipped between you and the boy in the driver’s seat within milliseconds before he was swatting John B’s arm.

“C’mon, dude...” He warned in a hushed tone. John B just chuckled.

“That’s what I thought.”

Moments of silence passed before their voices were heard again. “I gotta admit, your dad’s compass in Scooter’s boat? Freaky, man…” JJ claimed, twirling the newfound object between his fingers.

“That’s why we’re going to talk to Ms. Lana and figure this whole thing out. She’s his wife, she has to know something.” John B told him.

“And what makes you think she would want to talk to us?” You added, spooking the blonde boy in the passenger seat.

“How long have you been listen-”

“I’m always listening.” You spoke bluntly, a blank expression on your face as you averted your attention from your journal to him. “Anyway,” you dismissed. “A group of teenagers showing up to ask her about her dead husband, the boat that the whole island is looking for, and the compass we found inside of said dead husband’s lost boat? She’ll either think we’re criminals, FBI, or crazy.”

“Well, this is our first resort.” John B replied, eyes looking at you through the rearview. “We gotta try.”

“KNOW WHAT THIS HOUSE LOOKS LIKE?” JJ said, leading the group of us to the front yard of Lana Grubbs’ residence. “Whoever lives here smokes too much weed.” He observed the small, shack-like house — the walls were overgrown with weeds, the yard looked like it’d never been cut, the place was a mess from the outside.

The three of you stopped, more like flinched, in your tracks when you heard glass-shattering from the inside of the house followed by crash after crash. It sounded like the outside of a rage-room or a gun range.

“Maybe we should come back…” JJ advised, taking small steps back. But John B persisted, even as the two of you stood back in fear.

“No, no, shut up, JJ.” John B reprimanded absentmindedly.

“Tell me where it is or I’ll fuck you up!” A deep, brassy voice boomed from the inside. The voice so authoritative it made you shudder, but it didn’t worry you as when a woman’s scream followed. You could only assume it was Ms. Lana. “I’ll sink you in the fucking-” A crash, louder than the rest, cut off the sentence, almost covering the sound of Ms. Lana’s blood-curling screech.

“You’re hurting me!”

John B beckoned JJ and you on with his hands, urging the both of you to move forward. Reluctantly, and after a weary glance at one another, you and JJ followed the brunette boy who was edging closer and closer to the side of the house.

“Where the fuck is it?!”

“I don’t know!”

The three of you quickly dashed and ducked beneath the window seal on the only open window when you heard something hit the wall from the inside. You had just parted your lips to say that, just maybe, this was a bad idea. A terrible one, even, before a phrase yelled by the angry man inside had you shutting up.

“The compass wasn’t in the boat! Where is it, Lana?!”

“I don’t know!”

Your heart dropped as things continued to get thrown and slammed inside the house and you prayed those ‘things’ didn’t happen to be Lana. The paint and wood started to physically chip and fall off the walls outside, landing on top of the three of you crouched against the side of the house, wood particles falling into your eyes.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, man…” Another male voice commanded, followed by two pairs of heavy footsteps against the wooden floors inside. The three of you peeked around the corner to watch the two men disappear from the grounds through the front door, stomping angrily towards their boat.

The same boat that had been shooting at you only 24 hours prior.

“Those were the guys that shot at us.” JJ whisper-yelled.

“Go back.” John B commanded, pushing you all back behind the safety of the wall so they wouldn’t see you all. Once the boat sped off, the three of you slowly tip-toed your way into the house. The sound of Lana’s cries getting louder and more heartbreaking the more you entered the house, shoes crunching on wood and glass. Photo frames and dishes all broken into smaller fractions and littered on the floor, holes in the walls, kitchen cabinets hanging on by a single hinge.

“Ms. Lana?” You called out, voice laced with concern, eyeing the broken windows before they found Ms. Lana’s curled up figure on the bathroom floor right below the sink that was hanging on by a singular pipe. “Oh my God.” You gasped, kneeling right next to the woman and laying a hand on her shoulder that caused her to flinch and shrink in on herself.

She had tears running from her red, swollen eyes, curled up like someone’s child.

“She is tweakin’.”

“Shut up, JJ.” You hissed, shooting a mean glare at the insensitive blonde before turning your attention back to the feeble woman. “Do you need a doctor? We can call a doctor for you.” You assured, examining the multiple cuts adorning the woman’s face and arms.

“We can call the sheriff’s department-” John B was on the verge of suggesting before Lana cut him off frantically.

“No cops, please!”

“Mm, that’s not good. Let’s bounce.” JJ urged, weary of the woman’s persistence to avoid law enforcement.

“You shouldn’t be here...” Lana cried, her eyes focused on John B, speaking as her lip quivered and her voice shook.

The brunette’s face twisted, kneeling next to me to level his gaze with Ms. Lana’s. “Do you know those guys?”

“They were… looking for something.” Her voice wavered.

“...Does it have anything to do with this?” John B asked her, pulling the compass from the back pocket of his board shorts. You and JJ shared a glance, both knowing John B probably shouldn’t have shown it to her. “This was my father’s and Scooter had it. Do you know why?”

Why did John B think showing a woman his father’s compass and saying he copped it from her dead husband was a good idea? You had no clue. Interrogation tactic? Impulsiveness? Stupidity? Lana’s eyes were wide and teary, she looked like she was seeing ghosts.

“Scooter didn’t have it, okay? Don’t tell anyone that you have that. They can’t know that you have that!”

Your lips pulled themselves into a thin line and you were starting to feel less bad for Lana and more suspicious of the distressed woman. Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as she appeared. She didn’t seem to be a threat but she clearly knew things that she shouldn’t. You nudged JB’s arm, whispering in his direction even though the woman could most likely still hear you. “We should go…”

“You’ve gotta get out of here!” Lana cried, fearful gaze eyeing the compass in John’s grasp.

“What do you know about the compass?” John B raised his voice over her frantic one, still questioning Lana as JJ pulled him back and the three of you stood to leave.

“Go! Get out!” Was the last thing you heard as the hysteric woman yelled at your retreating figures.

“SO, YOU SAW THE GUYS THAT SHOT AT US, RIGHT?” Pope asked with his head in his hands, stressed after listening to JJ’s dramatic rendition of events. The three of you had returned to The Chateau and summoned Kiara and Pope not too long after, the events of today on the tip of your tongue. “Did you get a good description of them? Anything we can bring to a police report?”

You shook your head along with JJ and John B as Kiara and Pope sighed at you all's lack of response. There was nothing special about these guys. Sure, they seemed out of place but that’s because nobody on the island knew them. That was one perk about living in Kildare, everyone knows everyone. But these weren’t leather jacket, ski-mask wearing criminals. They didn’t stick out like sore thumbs.

“That’s not very helpful…” Kiara huffed.

“But, but,” JJ started again. “They were burly. Like the men I’d see at my dad’s garage. You guys know he made cargo hides for drug smugglers...” He reminded you all carelessly. “I can tell you with full confidence that these guys? They’re square groupers.”

“Like Narcos square groupers?” Pope questioned with little amusement, his face dropping as he watched JJ smoke against the brick wall.

“Like, Pablo Escobar square grouper?” You added on, just as skeptical from your seat on the patio floor, legs stretched in front of you and crossed over one another while you leaned on your elbows for support. JJ just nodded, blowing out smoke.

“You guys, not everything is a kingpin movie.” Kie reprimanded from her place next to Pope on the patio furniture.

“Okay,” Pope started. “What does a square grouper look like? Hm? Because clearly, you don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Okay, you weren’t there! I wasn’t taking little mental polaroids the entire time, dude! I was under duress!” JJ whined to which you and John B rolled your eyes.

“Why would they want the compass?” Kiara probed, leaning forward in her seated position, resting her forearms on her thighs.

“That thing’s a piece of shit, you could pawn it off for five bucks if you wanted to… No offense, John B.” Pope claimed honestly, watching as John B flicked the object open and stared at it longingly, paying no mind to the boy’s insult.

“Well, clearly it’s worth something.” You popped in. “Considering these guys are willing to kill for it.”

“...The office.” You all turned to the scruffy brunette. A silent question on everyone’s face. “My dad’s office.” John B continued, shooting up and walking inside The Chateau as you all scurried to follow, shooting one another confused glances. “He always kept the office locked ‘cause he was worried about his competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research. Remember?” He directed at you and JJ, looking back but still walking forward. “We used to laugh at him like he was actually going to find it. But now that he’s…gone, I just left it as he kept it.” He said despondently.

“Yeah. For when he gets back.” Kie backed him up with a light-tipped smile. Keys jangled as John B unlocked the room you hadn’t seen in years. Not since before Big John went missing. Before all of this.

“I’ve slept over here like six-hundred times and I’ve never seen this door opened.” Pope said aloud, eyeing the office like a museum.

This was like being hit by a tidal-wave for you. And you’re sure it was the same for John B. You can remember the countless nights you’d slept over before and after Big John went missing. Before he went missing and you, JB, and JJ would peek inside just to watch him just write and type like his life depended on it. It even brought back memories of when your dad would stay a while after dropping you off to spend the night just to share beers in the backyard with Big John.

The nights after his disappearance weren’t as sweet though. Sleeping in a group hug around John B after his dad went missing. Then your friends all slept in a group hug around you after your dad went missing. Then they slept in another group hug around you when your dad’s body was found, washed up on the shore for the entire island to see. With the plethora of events, The Chateau became a haunted house in your mind.

“Look,” John B said, pulling you out of your stupor. He’d taken a bulletin board down off of the walls that was decorated with paper scraps and old pictures. His index finger pointed to the photo at the very top, a sepia-like tint to it. “This was the original owner of the compass.”

The paper pinned against the photo read ‘Robert Q. Routledge. 1880 - 1920’.

“There’s the lucky compass right there.” Kiara showed you all, pointing to the object clutched in the old man’s hand in the picture. You wouldn’t exactly call the compass lucky, though. And if it was before, it surely isn’t now.

“Actually, um. He was shot after he bought it…” John B informed. “Then the compass was shipped back to Henry.” He continued guiding you all through the timeline, pointing to the next picture. “Henry was killed in a crop-dusting accident when he had the compass.” You happened to look up at the exact same time as Pope, the two of you locking eyes with visible worry. “After he died, the compass was given to Stephen. Stephen had it when he died in Vietnam.” The boy ranted. “After that, Stephen passed the compass down to my dad.”

“This is painting a very bad picture, JB…” You warned, hand on the back of your neck as your face twisted.

“Yeah, he has a death compass.” Pope deadpanned.

“I do not.” John B denied, rolling his eyes and sitting down in the nearest chair with the compass still in hand. “My dad used to talk about this compartment here.” He explained, fiddling with the article between his fingers. “Soldiers used to hide secret notes.” He twisted the back of it off, revealing a word scratched into the top. He sat up with surprise as he spoke. “...This is my dad’s handwriting.”

Pope scoffed. “How can you know that?”

“He’s right.” You assured the doubtful male absentmindedly, squinting your eyes and craning your neck down to see the word written into the metal. “Big John had horrific handwriting and his R’s always had a point to them. I always used to think they looked like big-headed baby chicks, in a way. That’s definitely his handwriting.”

“Weird observation…but she’s right.” John B backed you up, his eyes going back to the compass. “Redfield…” He muttered. “What’s Redfield? Is it a clue?”

“A clue? C’mon that’s-” Pope began until you shot him a nasty glare, silently telling him to be helpful and supportive or shut up. His eyes widened as he gulped. “If it is a clue, m-maybe it’s an anagram?”

“Yes!” John B jumped up from his seat, beckoning you all to back up some. “Anagram. Perfect. You need paper.” He directed at Pope, eyeing scanning the cluttered space. Handing the boy an old, crinkled sheet of notebook paper, Pope got to work with the help of JJ and Kiara as John B and you scoured the desks for anything else of use.

Your ears were quick to pick up on the sound of an engine over the chatter of the brainiac bunch behind you. Eyes perking up to see a black truck pulling onto the yard.”...Guys?” You spoke, but not loud enough. “Guys!” You shushed them, all eyes turning to you. “Somebody’s here.”

The five of you crowded around the window, peeking through the blinds and peering through the dusted glass. Two males got out of the car and you recognized them immediately. “Those are the guys from The Marsh and Lana’s house.”

John B was quick to turn towards JJ. “Where’s the gun?”

“I don’t know-”

“Now you don’t have the gun? The one time we need the gun?” Kiara panicked.

“It was in my backpack and then I-...it’s on the porch.” JJ quickly realized, sighing before biting his lip out of frustration.

“Go. Go get it.” John B urged quietly but you were quick to step up, tugging the short sleeve of JJ’s shirt before he could open the door.

“No, no, we are not sending JJ out there to be pummeled by square troopers, square groupers, whatever they are-”

“We need the gun-” The bandana-wearing boy hissed.

“I don’t care. We stay put. We stay together.” You insisted. But JJ gently swiped your hand down and backed out of your reach, one hand up in surrender. “What’re you doing-”

“It’ll be quick, I swear. I’m like a ninja-”

“JJ.” You said simply, disappointed as you curled your fist in annoyance.

“I’ll be on my Batman shit.” He whispered before leaving the room quietly with the door cracked behind him, allowing you all to see him leave.

“John Routledge!” A country man’s voice boomed, causing JJ to turn around and slide his way back into the room quietly before he’d even made it two steps outside of the office. “C’mon out now!” JJ closed and locked the door as you all heard the pairs of footsteps enter The Chateau. The men began smashing and throwing things around just as they did Ms. Lana’s house. Was this their MO or something?

‘Window’ Kie mouthed, pointing to the window that led straight into the yard, towards the chicken coop and the surf shack. JJ and Pope rushed over to it as John B held down the door, which was just him standing against it with his hands above his head. JJ and Pope tried to lift the frame but it wouldn’t budge. Your face twisted in confusion, walking over to where the two boys were struggling and attempting to pull up the window seal yourself with no better luck.

“It’s painted shut.” You couldn’t help but smack your teeth, cursing under your breath as your eyes quickly scanned the room for something sharp as you patted the back of your shorts, feeling an object in your pocket. Digging your hand in to reveal a pen, the one you’d been using to journal that morning. You whispered for the guys to move before ejecting the pen and sliding it quickly along the seal to break it as quickly as possible.

Suddenly, one of the square groupers began kicking the door down, John B running across the room.

“Hurry!” Kiara whispered.

“I’m going as fast as I can!” You hissed. When the seal was completely broken, you wasted no time in opening the window, being the first to jump down into the backyard and making a b-line for the coop. The five of you piled inside one by one, the space surprisingly big enough for five fully grown teenagers as you crouched in tense silence. Just then, you heard a shot ring out from the inside of the house, assuming the man shot the door down.

Everyone could hear everyone breathing, shaky breaths all throughout the small enclosure. And the roosters. One rooster would not stop crowing. You were hoping, praying the damn thing would stop making noise. It wasn’t long before the guys were seen leaving the house, carrying at least two crates of books and research each.

“Pope, shut him up.” JJ demanded, referring to the rooster next to Pope that was making the most noise.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Pet it or something, I don’t know.” Kie cried. Suddenly , JJ got up and grabbed the rooster by its neck, pressing it into the ground until its neck audibly snapped and its clucking ceased. You couldn’t help but cringe and look away, the sight somehow prompting you to gag. JJ’s eyes met yours as if he was making sure you were okay, you giving him a sickly nod in return. One that wasn’t as reassuring as you hoped. Kie was crying silently and you didn’t miss the way John B grabbed her hand in comfort.

“WHAT BETTER PLACE TO HIDE A MESSAGE THAN A FAMILY HEIRLOOM?” John B tried to muse from the driver’s seat of The Twinkie.

“Maybe somewhere more easily accessible.” You said bluntly, laying back on the floor of the van, your foot on Pope and head in JJ’s lap, Kiara in the passenger seat. “Like a hidden jewelry box compartment or a locked drawer. Not inside of a death compass on a dead man’s sunken boat.”

John B simply ignored you. “He had to know it was gonna get back to me, right?” He spoke hopefully, referring to his father.

“It’s possible.” Kie agreed from the passenger seat next to him, not wholeheartedly however.

“It could also be possible that you’re concocting wild theories to help deal with your sad feels- Ow!” Pope was interrupted when you kicked his knee, shooting him a glance that said ‘what the hell'.

“You know how I process my sad feels,” JJ started, your eyes drifting to him as your head craned slightly back from its place atop his thighs. “Dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies.”

“Preach.” You agreed, dapping up the blonde boy.

“Look, I’m not concocting, okay?” John B nearly shouted in frustration. “My dad’s trying to give me a message.”

“...If it helps you believe, John B.” Kiara tried softly.

“I don’t need a therapy session. I’m not trippin’ out.” He dismissed the four of you. “My dad is missing, okay? Missing. You guys don’t know what it’s like to have the person closest to you vanish and have no idea what happened.”

Suddenly, the two pairs of eyes in the back of the van turned to you. You couldn’t help but curl in on yourself slightly. “Stop it.” You demanded, averting your eyes to the window, watching the palm trees pass by. You hated when they acted like you had to be shielded from things because of what happened to your dad.

“It’s been almost a year.” Kiara nudged JB, letting it go. “But fine. What do you think the message is?”

“Redfield.” The brunette reiterated hopefully. “Redfield Lighthouse. My dad’s favorite place.”

THE LIGHTHOUSE LOOKED A BIT DIFFERENT THAN YOU REMEMBERED. It looked older, more rickety. You could swear it was leaning now. The five of you stood staring up at it before John B turned around to face JJ.

“You’re gonna post up out here and look for bogey’s. Alright?”

“Wait, why me?” JJ asked pitifully.

“...JJ, there are independent variables and dependent variables. You’re an independent variable-” Pope tried to reason.

“Shut up.” The blonde-haired boy dismissed with a snarl.

“We don’t know what you’re gonna do!”

“Just shut up!”

“Listen to me,” John B broke the boys up, pointing an assertive finger. “Pope, you stand lookout with JJ. Y/N, you make sure they don’t rip each other’s heads off. If we get split up, we meet back at JJ’s house.” You watched as Kiara and John B hopped over the fence and onto the lighthouse property. You slid your back against a nearby tree, one earbud placed in your ear as you drummed your fingers against your thigh, playing with blades of grass between your fingers.

“I’m gonna work on my merit scholarship essay. I’m trying to keep felonies to a minimum.”

“All right, would you just shut up already?” JJ sassed, you rolling your eyes and scoffing at them both. A few beats passed before JJ spoke again. “They’re probably boning in there right now.”

“Jesus, JJ…” You breathed out.

“What? You don’t honestly believe they don’t have a thing for each other, do you?” He defended.

“Maybe you’re just jealous.” Pope offered from his place in the grass.

“Jealous? Of what?”

“Because John B’s trying to move in on Kie and you have a thing for her.”

“Listen, dude,” JJ started with his hands out in front of him. “Kie’s hot and all but she’s a kook. I don’t see her like that.”

“That’s what they all say.” You sang playfully, causing JJ to whip around to face you.

“Oh, really? And what about little miss pretty & popular?”

You visibly cringed. “Ew, don’t ever refer to me like that again.”

“You’re telling me you aren’t crushin’ on someone? No rich, polo-wearing kid swept you off your feet during you and Kie’s kook year?” He egged on.

“Knock it off, JJ.” Pope defended when he saw how your face fell at the mention of it. You hated when they brought it up. Technically Kie’s kook year was longer than yours, considering you’d joined her kook friend group when you moved to Figure Eight. That was an era of your life you’d love nothing more than to forget.

“Fine, fine,” He backed off, his hands thrown up in mock surrender as he backed some steps away. Just then, the three of your heads whipped to the dirt road behind you at the sound of police sirens. You snatched the earbud out of your ear and pocketed it, standing up from your place against the tree. They were clearly headed for the lighthouse.

“What do we do? Do we wait?” Pope asked frantically.

“We can’t, man, c’mon.” JJ urged, sprinting towards the van with you and Pope following close behind. He jumped into the driver’s seat, pulling off before you and Pope had even closed the side door completely. You could only have faith that your other two friends made it out okay.

“NEXT TIME YOU END UP AT THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE, YOU CALL ME FIRST. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, JOHN BOOKER?” Your mother reprimanded the poor boy, her heels clacking against the pavement outside of the department. You didn’t expect a call from John B after you all had run from the lighthouse, coming from the Kildare County Sheriff’s Station from John B saying he and Kiara had been “arrested”.

“Yes, ma’am.” He affirmed. By the time you’d arrived at the station, Kiara had apparently already left with her dad who’d refused to bail John B out as well, leaving the boy with only one other option. The three of you stopped in front of your mother’s car as she now turned to face the two of you.

“Shoupe already has enough to deal with. The sheriff’s office doesn’t need a couple of rowdy teenagers on their radar. I don’t know what you kids were doing up at the lighthouse that led to this, but drop it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You both blurted out simultaneously, your mother having a newfound knack for intimidating people. She didn’t hesitate to jump in her car and start the engine, giving one last look as a goodbye.

YOU WERE AT THE DOCKS WAITING ON JOHN B, SITTING ON THE WOOD AND SWINGING YOUR FEET. You’d gone with him when he realized it was time for him to work, an employee saying Ward was looking for him as soon as the pair of you had arrived. He was up on The Druther’s, Ward’s boat, talking to the man himself. You couldn’t tell what the conversation was from your seat on the docks, so you waited. It was only minutes before the boy himself came stomping down the marina, prompting you to get up and dust yourself off.

“Is everything okay-”

“I just got fired.” He blurted, not even making eye contact with you and he brushed past you. You stuttered at his passive nature, scurrying to follow behind him.

“What do you mean you just got fired?”

“Ward found out about the gear.” He scoffed, and even with his back to you as he breezed through the working people to leave the dock, you could almost feel his frustration. “I can’t believe her.” He muttered.

“Who? Who are you talking about, John B?” You soon got your answer as Sarah Cameron walked by, you and the girl making brief eye contact with a mutual snarl on both of your lips before her attention turned to John B, who she somehow saw after you.

“Hey, John B.” She greeted, her hands full of paper bags that were filled to the brim with groceries, a large, brimmed hat on the top of her head. You weren’t surprised when he continued walking as you followed without a word to the girl, but she persisted. “That’s it?” Sarah scoffed. “Not a ‘hey, how you doin’’? Not a ‘kiss my ass’?”

You didn’t expect John B to turn around and swiftly walk over to the girl, getting all in her face. With the noise of the busy marina in the back, their close conversation became hushed but it was still audible enough.

“Your secret’s safe with me? Really?” Your friend pressed the girl. “I just got fired because of you. And I know you can’t imagine that but some people need jobs, so they can eat.” Nothing shocked you more than when he smacked the bag of goods from her arms, leaving Sarah stunned as fruits rolled in front of her sandals. Her jaw slack and eyes wide.

“What the fuck?” She hollered.

“You are exactly who I thought you were, Sarah Cameron.” He reprimanded, turning and leaving behind a stunned kook girl. Although, you would’ve paid money to see that again, it was such an odd interaction.

You knew he worked on Ward’s boat so he was bound to come across her but you weren’t aware they really talked. If you didn’t know either of them, you’d assume they were a high school couple arguing out in public.

The brunette brushed past you once again, taking his time and seemingly building up the courage to break into a run.

“Wh- John B!” You called from your place in the parking lot. “John B, where are you going?!” But it was no use as he simply left you behind and continued sprinting away. You figured you’d just give him some space to himself.

YOU’D RECONNECTED WITH POPE AND JJ SOON AFTER BEING LEFT IN THE DUST BY JOHN B, meeting them on the docks in The Cut. The three of you had been there for some hours, you helping Pope fix a generator while JJ smoked unhelpfully to the side when John B pulled up in The Twinkie.

He honked, beckoning the three of you into the van with a finger and none of you questioned what was happening or where you were going as you hopped into the rickety vehicle. You were mildly pissed about being left at The Marina but you got in nonetheless.

THE SUN HAD SET AND YOU ALL STILL HADN’T ARRIVED YET. John B briefly explained the destination and plan but you half-listened. You’d been driving for a long time, picking up Kiara along the way, with no clue as to where the five of you were going.

“Do you mind if I sit this one out?” JJ asked tiredly. “It’s been a long, weird day…”

“Look, I know I was wrong about the lighthouse.” John B acknowledged. “And wrong about everything else. But I was right about one thing — my dad is trying to tell me something.”

Just then you pulled up to a graveyard, the five of you piling out of the van with a flashlight each in your hand. “This place is scary.” Kie voiced. “John B, what are we doing?”

“You know how you’re trying to remember a song but you can’t remember who sings it?” He started. “Redfield. This whole time, I thought it was a place.” He explained as you all followed him further into the mess of graves and tombstones. “But it’s not.” He held the lantern in his hand up once you all stopped in front of a tomb, one of the tallest ones in the yard, revealing “REDFIELD” engraved in the stone. “It’s a person. My great-great-grandmother, Olivia Redfield. That was her maiden name.” He spoke longingly, looking up at the stone letters. “Help me with the door. C’mon.”

Pope stepped forward as the remaining three of you flashed your lights in the pair’s direction as they attempted and failed to push the tomb door open.

“Are you pushing?” Pope said to the brunette.

“Yes, I’m pushing.” John B strained out. Then JJ was jumping into help but even with his addition, the boys had no luck opening the door. They all jumped back when a snake hissed, peeking its head out from a crack in the stone structure.

“Woah! That’s a moccasin, alright” JJ started, jumping back almost cartoonistically. “Ye-old cottonmouth. Death in tall grass. Roof! Roof!” JJ started barking at the snake. Sometimes, you questioned his sanity.

“JJ! Shut up!” You warned the erratic blonde.

“You’re gonna wake the dead.” Pope slapped him on the shoulder, grimacing.

“Dude, they’re afraid of dogs. Everybody knows that.” He breathed out, straightening himself back out.

“Look, John,” Pope sighed, turning his attention back to John B. “We’re not gonna get in there, it’s not budging. We should probably just go.”

You were examining the tomb carefully, flashlight trailing the structure up and down before you noticed something. “I think I can get through.”

“...What?” John B spoke.

“You think you’re gonna fit through that hole?” Pope asked, worried.

“I’ll do it.” You reassured them, ignoring their concerns. “Just help me up.” They all shuffled to help you up — Kiara and John B holding the vines away and to the sides while JJ and Pope intertwined their hands for you to use as a human step-stool.

“What am I looking for?” You inquired, eyes fleeting to John B.

“You’ll know when you see it.” Your hands slapped your thighs. Helpful, you thought, but you didn’t ask anymore questions. You put your flashlight in between your teeth, like a dog carrying a bone before laying a hand on each of the boys shoulders, you put your foot over their connected hands and boosted yourself up.

It was a tight squeeze but you made your way through, landing on your feet and removing the flashlight from your teeth. It took your eyes a minute to adjust, staring at the walls of the spooky space.

“You alive in there?” JJ called.

“Alive and kickin’.” You called back, aiming the flashlight everywhere, scanning over everything. But the space was much bigger than you thought and your one flashlight didn’t seem to be enough. “I need more light, please.”

“Gotcha’.” John B said, pushing his arm holding the lantern through the crack of the wall, illuminating the space by tenfold. And that light was just what you needed.

“Oh my God…” You breathed out. John B may not have led you all on a goose-chase after all.

next chapter >

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yaut-jaknowit · 4 months ago

Text

The Fight Of A Lifetime

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 5509

Summary: The week is up. In one last try, you throw yourself at her feet and pleads her to not do this. As much as you don't want to watch, you can't not be there. If she were to die, Dwainet will kill you, might as well make it swift. So you go. We'ar-ow looks magnific in her armor and adorned in weapons. The two arrive in grand style. You're decked out, head to toe in everything We'ar-ow has given you. The battle commences.

Author Note: It has finally arrived! This is the second to the last chapter planned for this series. The climax of it all. I hoped the fighting scenes are alright. I hate writing fighting scenes. They need to be quick, fast and I like to describe everything. So, it's the opposite to what I do.

Masterlist

Ao3

Everyday since the challenge had been issued, We’ar-ow acted indifferent. Not a thing changed. She would take you to her throne room where she dealt with the dealings as the Monarch of her clan.

Well, besides the fact you admitted your love to the alien. Outside the safety of her quarters, We’ar-ow was the same Monarch everyone knew her as. Yet, inside those walls, specially when the night cycle fell upon the two of you, she would cuddle with you. Her eight foot and so frame was easily able to dwarf you. She’d scoop you to her torso and curl around you like some sort of brick wall. Imposing and immoveable.

It was impossible to nudge her even slightly to the side to get up when nature called. The lumbering giant female hugged you like a koala. There was little chance to escape unless you’ve threaten to piss in the bed or getting a UTI because you’re holding it for so long.

Besides the cuddling, that’s the only thing you’ve noticed. And that made you begin to think. The way she barely has changed her personality at first had you worried that she didn’t return your feelings. Then, you got to thinking.

If nothing had changed… maybe she has loved you from the beginning.

Then, to find you there, all those months ago, on the verge of crying couldn’t been fate. You don’t believe she had anything to do with Dwainet breaking up with you. It was the opportunity falling into her lap. We’ar-ow, the predator she is, took the chance to snatch you up before some other Yautja could. A lone pet without its master was a call for trouble.

Now, look where you are now. From the depths of food chain where Dwainet survived in as a newly blooded to the mate of the monarch. A clear glow up for yourself.

Including now; decked out in a finest of material Raunch designed for the day. You looked nothing less than a deity while standing in front of the mirror. The thin, see-through material flowing from around your neck and down your back was flowy. It attached at two points to your wrists. The brown easily complimenting the pink that made up the rest of your outfit Raunch threw you in.

His life must have been on the line when he created this because of how fabulous and stunning you looked in it. We’ar-ow wanted you nothing short of the deity she saw you as. You glanced at said Yautja through the mirror while she armored her up.

One creature soft, pliant, silky. The other rough, jig jagged, coarse. Two pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly against the other. Both complimenting each other.

You couldn’t help the gentle smile to upturn your lips at the thought before it dropped. The realization of what was about to occur hitting you straight in the gut. This could be the last time you saw each other alive. Despite her plentiful reassurances that the day would go as planned, you are only human. And humans fretted, a lot. Any little thing could go wrong. And boom, she’s dead.

The blood in your veins ran cold. Death wasn’t new to you. Not when you’re surrounded by a species that hunted and prided themselves over the bodies they brought home. Or when they duke it out over a challenge thrown down. But to lose We’ar-ow. You couldn’t fathom the heartbreak it would bring upon you.

Goosebumps clouded your skin. The soft flesh of your bottom lip worried on by dull teeth. We’ar-ow’s strong gaze flickered over at you. Instantly, you straightened and found anywhere else to look at. Then, you attempted to relax and act natural in the face of your mate. Said Yautja began to stalk towards you before halting just shy of your back.

Her form towered even more with the added armor decorating her. She downright looked like a beast ready for the hunt. Your breath got caught in your throat when your eyes raked up her body in the mirror. She was stunning and terrifying all in the same boat.

The heat of her body blanketed you in comfort and helped ease the tension holding your shoulders. We’ar-ow reached around you to cup your throat and tilted your head back. “I have told you, there is nothing to fret about. I will be victorious. Not for me but for you, little one,” she growled and tugged you flush against the muscles that lined her thick thighs.

As much as you wanted to believe a hundred percent, there was that constant nagging inside of your mind. The part that will always make you human. The part that whispered from the depths that she will fail, she will fall, she will die. Then, you will have no choice but to be handed over to Dwainet. Once more in the hands of a sheep in wolf’s clothing.

A part that We’ar-ow can never quell.

“I am only human,” you muttered, eyes drifting down to look at the two of you in the mirror. Her claws lightly bit into the soft flesh of the back of your neck. But, We’ar-ow is careful, mindful of your more fragile form in her presences.

A grumble sounded from the back of her throat. “And I am the monarch of this clan. I have never lost a challenge. I will not lose this one. Not when I have something to lose, someone important,” her voice softened towards the end. Then, the pink Yautja bent at the waist to nuzzle her mandibles into your hair carefully with the decorations adorning your head. In her eyes, you rivaled Paya with your deity status.

Your orbs snapped up to the pink Yautja at your back, expression softening. “We’ar-ow,” you whispered her name then heavily sighed, eyes closing. This is a weight you never expected to bare. Not a weight that was meant for a Yautja more than you yourself.

“What can I do to make you believe me?” she mumbled into your hair then peered over to look you deeply into your eyes. “What will be the tip in the scales?” If you didn’t know any better, you could say she was begging for you to believe in her.

And that hurt you. Guilt burned a hole in your stomach. It was your own demons causing this issue to worsen with each denial that passed your lips and reflected in your eyes.

“Win the fight,” is all you can do to answer her. That will be what will make you believe her. When she brings you the head of the fallen Yautjas who will bring upon a fight that will challenge We’ar-ow in every sense of the word.

Her gaze hardened, mandibles pulled tight towards her mouth. Then, the Yautja leaned down and pressed them against your forehead in a mock kiss. “That I will, little ooman. That I will. All in the name of you. That scum will fall at my feet from my hands. Then, you won’t have to worry no longer.”

That eased the majority of the tension coiling in your muscles. But not all of it. You could still feel its burn in the back of your throat like acid. A feeling that would never go away. Not until the problem had been dealt with at the source. You prayed to their god, Paya, for this day to go the way you wanted. To see We’ar-ow’s beautiful face at the end of the day.

In tandem, side by side, you left the safety of her quarters for the hallways of her ship. Whatever shield that place put over you washed away the moment you stepped into the hallway. Less doors to protect you from the hazards of being on a Yautja mothership. You walked with your shoulders squared and back. A stance of pride that was felt in each step you took.

The doors of the elevator opened to reveal a face you were relieved to see. Xilomere. Him and his goofy, alien smile was a sight for sore eyes. You almost ran up to him to give him a hug. Today is a day you needed all the support possible. Anything to get you through the events planned.

Next to him was someone you’ve only seen once before. One of We’ar-ow’s sister’s who is on her council team. You politely dipped your head at her with a closed lip smile. The last thing you wanted to do was piss off her. We’ar-ow had enough to deal with today. She doesn’t need to put herself into a problem you created. Well, another problem you created.

“Xilomere, I’m so glad to see you,” you spoke, your face spilt with a closed smile. Your eyes shined with your feelings.

The green male set his palm on your shoulder and gave a welcoming shake. “I wouldn’t miss today even if I was legless. Plus, someone needs to keep an eye out just encase Dwainet is gonna play games. Who knows if he’ll break some more rules today.” The helped more to ease your racing heart. He was going to protect you while We’ar-ow fought. Like he said, who knows if Dwainet may send one of his goons after you while We’ar-ow is distracted.

Her sister, a beautiful shade of tans, beiges, and browns, huffed at Xilo. “So will I,” she rumbled and looked down at you. “I will protect you from any harm. I promise both you and my sister this.” Your heart soften even more from her words. The two of them, barely knowing, are willing to put their lives on the line in case of an attack for you. It was probably mainly for We’ar-ow but still.

You dipped your head deeply. “Thank you. I can’t say enough how much I appreciate that. Truly, thank you.” They returned to motion themselves.

We’ar-ow stepped up behind you and held both of your shoulders. “It is time we go. Dunkot is escorting the prisoners as we speak,” the pink Yautja wormed her way into the conversation. Not that you minded. You tilted your head back, throat completely exposed, to look up at her. The monarch of this ship was willing to put her neck out for you. To keep you protected. Not even Dwainet had done that.

Clearly, you’ve found the one.

As if the four of you were marching like soldiers, you stepped in time with one another. We’ar-ow kept the pace slow enough for you to easily keep up. You march side by side with her. Xilomere and her sister watched your backs the entire time.

Instead of the normal pathing to the throne room you were used to, We’ar-ow led the four of you down a different set of hallways and elevators. Down to the kehrites. A section of the ship you barely have been down to. Not unless you were begging for trouble that is.

All four of your entered the kehrites. Your jaw dropped though. These weren’t the mediocre sized classroom kehrites. No, they had knocked down all of the walls somehow and put in a few risers.

Every available space was consumed by the hundreds of bodies squished into the open area. There was even young children and unbloodeds who were stationed at the front for the best possible view.

A section in the middle of everyone was open and set up with a stage. We’ar-ow wanted everyone to see her beat Dwainet into the ground like the way he deserves. The way needs to be put down like the asshole he is. He doesn’t deserve to breath the same air as you. You couldn’t wait for the end but at the same time, you didn’t even want the battle to start. Not with We’ar-ow’s life on the line.

Your head held up high, you followed We’ar-ow over to a designated section carved out for you and your bodyguards. A seat that resembled a throne had been set up. The perfect size for you. It wasn’t fancy like We’ar-ow’s in the throne room but it was more than enough to state your status. She motioned you to climb the three stairs and sit upon it.

The plush seat met your butt allowed you comfort. It gave you an additional height against the larger aliens that filled this room. You didn’t feel small. We’ar-ow looked at you. You looked at her.

Everything else didn’t matter. You reached out despite your brain screaming at you that it was a bad idea. We’ar-ow leaned in and allowed for your hand to cup her cheek. Her warmth raced up your fingertips to settle in your heart. You had found a way to love again and that too was threatened all over again. It burned you had no way to help or fix this problem you created. You could only trust We’ar-ow to overcome the challenge that stood in her way to having you strictly to herself.

Xilomere and We’ar-ow’s sister stood directly on either side of you. His usually goofy expression was replaced by a hardened look that would take years to perfect. A warrior born and raised for the fight. The sister had one as well. Both were armed to the teeth with weapons. Unlike you who was adorn with soft, plush cloth for a gentle figure, they were prepared to take down an army if it came down to that.

The softer texture of We’ar-ow’s face rubbed against your palm. You tugged her closer to you and pushed your forehead against hers. Screw whatever anyone might think about this. You didn’t care. Not when everything was on the line. Your livelihood, your love, the one person you’ve found comfort in.

“Win this. My heart is yours,” you stated firmly, nails biting into the skin behind her jaw before letting go and leaning back into the throne.

We’ar-ow returned to her full height. “Mine has been yours since the beginning.”

Shock filled your system. You opened your mouth to respond but the sound of marching feet interrupted you. We’ar-ow turned her back on you to face the oncoming fleet.

Your thoughts whirled around inside your head, knocking into each and causing chaos in the making. There was no time to reel them in either. The best you could do in the moment was to shove them into a box and close the lid. Because, the moment a familiar form stepped around the corner, you pulled on your stoic façade and stared the beast. The monster who caused all of this. All of this for his moment in the spotlight.

Duknot practically dragged the dishonorable male into the room. He wouldn’t allow for him to attempt to walk and forced him to stumble and flail. Humiliation. Two other males were secured in chains behind Dwainet. Their guards weren’t as demanding.

From their faces and low amount of scars, neither were high ranking. Three low ranks against a monarch. You were feeling a little better at the realization. Her chances of winning had increased.

All three of them were shoved onto the stage. Their chains didn’t allow for them to catch themselves. You bite at the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from laughing outright when they fell on their faces. Dunkot’s expression cracked with a hint of smirk. Then, he hopped onto the stage with two other guards.

Dwainet was hauled up by Duknot’s strength alone and placed back onto his feet. A hardy glare was sent to the guard but it was simply brushed off. In unison, the chains crashed to the ground. The sound echoing throughout the room after everyone had gone quiet. You felt your heart stuttered at the fact the traitor had been freed.

At your sides stood your guards. At your front stood the first and last person who would fight until her dying breath for you. You were safe.

Now, on the platform, Dwainet stood tall and scanned the crowd before his sharp eyes landed on you. Yet, you acted no different. A neutral expression is all he was faced with. He could see you from over We’ar-ow��s shoulders. She corrected this by sidestepping and blocking his vision. All the attention on her now.

His companions climbed to their feet as well and rubbed at their sore risks. From the space, you couldn’t hear what their chittered to one another. The translator unable to pick up from that far.

This was it.

On We’ar-ow’s side, she unclipped her combi-stick and opened it up. With a mighty slam, a loud clang gathered everyone’s attention to her now.

“Thank you all for coming to this special occasion. A lot has occurred over these last few weeks. A lot of information circulating between everyone. I’ve come to quell this unrest once and for all. Dwainet will succumb to the crimes he’s completed,” We’ar-ow started off when she rallied the entire clan’s attention to her.

Her voice echoed throughout the expanded room. “From this moment on, he has been deemed as a bad blood. He’s attacked a defenseless, weaponless creature. My pet under my protection had been injured by him. A crime such like that has brought upon his fate as a bad blood.” You couldn’t help up internally flinching at the reminder. It still felt fresh after all this time. To have someone you once loved so much attempt to murder you.

Horrible laughter rung out from the platform. “Oh, monarch. You can’t even protect the worthless pet in your protection.” Dwainet scanned the surrounding area. “You are weak. You are fragile. I can’t wait to beat you into the bloody pulp since day one. The title as monarch will be mine and you will be dead,” Dwainet boomed and kept his gaze moving.

You could tell he was trying to rile the clan up. In the presence of their monarch, no one even said a sound. The tension and fear palpable in the air.

With her back to you, you could feel the smirk etching its way onto her face. She expanded her arms out at her sides. “No one agrees with you, Dwainet. They see the truth. I true with a mighty fist but I know how much strength to use. I know the limitations. I know what this clan needs.” You hoped that the truth. We’ar-ow was a once in a lifetime leader. One that is needed in every clan across the board. Dwainet, he was the opposite of what We’ar-ow stood for.

A snarl ripped through Dwainet throat, his claws flexing at his side. You smirked and sat up straighter in your throne. You were heavily proud of We’ar-ow.

“Now, are you going to keep bickering or are you going to face your fate? I’ve got plans after this,” We’ar-ow drawled and crossed her arms.

Dwainet glanced behind him where his helpers stood. One was clearly nervous at the upcoming battle. The other was attempting to hold it in. These were just newly bloods like Dwainet himself. They weren’t as skilled as We’ar-ow. What was Dwainet thinking?

His gaze returned to her. “You shouldn’t have. There is nothing for you after this except for meeting Cetanu,” he growled and stomped down a foot on the platform. You could feel the eyeroll coming from We’ar-ow without her even looking at you. One that Dwainet whole heartily deserved.

We’ar-ow glanced over her shoulder one last time before marching straight into battle. The muscles that lined her back rippled with each step. Where her heart resides was protected by her metal armor covered by a pelt she earned herself. Both on her chest and back.

You couldn’t help but peek at the two body guards standing at your sides. Xilomere held onto his Combistick, his gaze directly in front of him and scanned the area thoroughly. We’ar-ow’s sister brandished two dual swords while preforming the same action. Both were on high alert. You were grateful for them and their willingness to do this.

The comfort of We’ar-ow’s presences left you. It was your turn to hold down the fort and wait for her return. You gripped the arms of the throne, white knuckling it before glancing at the sister again.

A thought nagged at the back of your mind. You nervously flickered your gaze around before leaning towards her. “I’ve realized I never caught your name,” you whispered in the quiet space, mindful of how loud your voice could grow.

“T'ah'keiad,” she calmly states yet never looks down at you. That would compromise her job as a body guard. Your eyes widened at the interesting name, lips pressed together. “For your ooman mind to understand, you can call me Kei.” You were thankful she understood her name may be difficult at first to speak. Your head dipped in thanks.

Then, you returned to scene unfolding before your very eyes.

We’ar-ow simply stepped onto the platform and towered over the males that opposed her. “Duknot, relieve their weapons to them,” she rumbled but kept a keen eye on Dwainet. He was the only one she truly had to worry about. She knew his tactics and how sneak he really could be. The others, she may not know how they fight but they couldn’t be worse than Dwainet. He was a disdain on her clanship.

The skin of your bottom lip was worried away by dull teeth. You couldn’t help it. Not with her standing directly in front of Dwainet and allowing for them to have their weapons. They were already adorn in meek armor. Armor that is what many new bloods only have. They don’t have enough ‘street cred’ to get anything better from any of the merchants.

Not once did We’ar-ow turn her back to Dwainet or his two helpers. Instead, she backed up to the edge of the platform and waited.

Dunkot stood in the middle like a referee. Two of the guards produced said weapons and handed them over. They returned to the flat ground and stood off to the side. Dunkot stayed in the center.

“As requested by our Monarch We’ar-ow, this challenge will be a battle to the death. Whoever is last to stand will be proclaimed at the new monarch per our rules. May your hands be true!” His voice boomed out over the area. Roars echoed from the crowd afterwards, deafening. You clapped your hands over your ears to protect them from terrible sound. It barely saved your ear drums from exploding.

Then, he left the platform. A strange shimmer rolled down from the ceiling and surrounded the platform. It was a shield to protect the crowd. Smart.

Before you had a chance to contemplate all of this, a loud bell sounded. Instantly, you knew what that meant.

In your throne, you had a front row seat to watch the fight unfold your very worried eyes. Despite your brain desperately wanting for you turn away and cower like the prey everyone thought you as, you held unsteadily strong. You watched with baited breath when We’ar-ow lifted up a crossbow and shot off a bolt directly at Dwainet.

The young male is able to narrowly dodge the flying bolt by rolling to the side. But, his partners in crime aren’t as lucky. It strikes one directly in the shoulder and pushes him back against the invisible shield. He chokes on a grunt and grabs at the bolt. The wood was snapped off to leave just the head inside but the damage had been dealt.

Dwainet goes for offense. He’s swift to get into We’ar-ow’s personal space. Flurries of kicks and punches were all deflected in matter of seconds. His hits hard, mean, likely to leave a bruise later on.

One of the other Yautjas tries to attack from the back. We’ar-ow ducks a hit from Dwainet and sticks out a leg to trip the darker red Yautja behind her. They fumble then fall back.

Finally, the last Yautja, a lighter red comes in by launching himself into the air. He believed We’ar-ow was distracted. She grasped Dwainet’s throat then aimed her crossbow once more at the already injured male. A bolt flies. It strikes him square in the chest. He fumbles and smashes in the space in front of We’ar-ow. The pink Yautja slams Dwainet down and picks up a foot.

The light Yautja’s head is crushed below her heel like the insect he was. Green blood stains the ground and coats the shield. You gasped and overed your mouth.

A throwing knife sticks out of We’ar-ow’s side. She acts no different. Her hand squeezing the life out of Dwainet. More pierce her hide to the point she picked up Dwainet again and threw him into the red Yautja.

They collided harshly with each other before slamming into the shield and flopping to the ground a pile. We’ar-ow moves with purpose over to the two scrambling forms. The crossbow back on her hip. She swipes Dwainet off of the ground again by his throat and holds him up. Her foot presses into the vulnerable area of the downed Yautja. The rings protecting his skin barely able to hold against her weight.

Her only foot on the ground is swiped from underneath her. Dwainet is allowed to be let loose. She is able to roll onto her stomach as claws swiped for her torso. Your eyes widened at the sight of her blood staining the floor this time. You sat more forward in your chair and played with your hands.

Red gets on top of her and grabs harshly at her neatly braided tresses. He pulls. We’ar-ow yanks her head forward. You gasped. Loose dreads hang in his hands, bleeding at the roots. You knew that had to hurt a lot.

We’ar-ow rams her elbow into Red’s side and knocks the wind out of him. A foot flies towards her face. She narrowly dodges a bad blow and latches her fangs into flesh. Dwainet roars and yanks his ankle from her mouth. Blood dripping down from the new wound.

Rage is a wildfire in his eyes. You had to stop yourself from curling into yourself at the sight. He snatches an axe from his belt and swung high above his head. No! You covered your mouth with both of your hands, unable to do anything to stop it.

In a terrifying slowness, it came down. Here you were, stuck in your chair, with a shield blocking you from the love of your life. You were forced to watch as Dwainet brought down the axe.

Her name left you lips in a cry.

The sickening sound of the axe sinking in will forever haunt your mind. You flinched away from the sight and covered your ears, unable to watch the final blow.

Dwainet roars. Pained. Confusion flooded your system. You picked up your head and looked back at the platform. Red was off of her back. Both of the male had been lifted up by their necks, forced to claw at her hands. The axe was imbedded into the metal floor besides were We’ar-ow’s head once was.

The pink female shoved both of the males against the shield directly in front of you. Her eyes pinned to your shaking form. You uncurled from your cowering position and looked up at her through blurry eyes. The sight of her alive form had your body sagging. She was okay. She was alive.

We’ar-ow dropped red then swiftly kicked one of his knees. A sickening crack echoing over the roars and cheers of the riled up clan. He dropped down where she knocked him down onto his back. In a similar fashion, she stomped down on his head, caving in his face. He too was dead.

You didn’t even flinch this time. Your eyes watched every move.

In her hand, Dwainet struggled and wriggled like a worm. His claws dug into her arms, anything to grant him release. He couldn’t get out of Dwainet fatal hold.

His feet dangled above the platform. We’ar-ow was able to hold him up without the aid of both arms or the shield. She snatched both of his wrists though and leaned forward. Your head tilted, brows furrowing on why she was making herself vulnerable for attack. Her mandibles twitched with words that your translator couldn’t pick up. You couldn’t only imagine what she was promising.

Then, he went soaring through the air and smashed into the ground and rolled before coming to a stop. He groaned while on his back. We’ar-ow unsheathed a machete from her waist band and brandished. The sharpened edge glinted from the overhead lights.

At her approach, Dwainet scrambled to his feet a moment to late. We’ar-ow swung and struck his forearm, just below his elbow. The blade sliced clean through muscle and bone alike. The injured Yautja choked on a cry and stumbled back and clutched at his profusely bleeding arm. You jerked your head back, eyes expanded at the terrifying sight before you.

His amputated arm flopped to the floor in a bloody, neon green heap. This when it finally hit you that this is where Dwainet was going to die. This was truly happening. Dwainet was about to be murdered right in front of you by your… mate. You just stayed sat and watched everything.

A snarl ripped from Dwainet’s throat. He glared daggers at We’ar-ow with a passion of hatred. With his only hand reminding, he brandished at knife and raised it above his head. The blade came down. We’ar-ow meets the offending hand with her own weapon. The cut was clean through his wrist as well. Another cry croaked from his hoarse throat. He collapsed to his knees as blood spurted from his amputated hands.

He didn’t raise his head to look death in the eye. We’ar-ow used the tip of her machete to tip his head up. Something primal and deep rumbled from her chest. Dwainet’s entire body froze as if he saw Cetanu himself. She stepped behind his deer in headlights position and faced you.

Despite the distance, you met her gaze. The machete was clipped to her belt again. We’ar-ow grasped his tresses with one hand. The male grunts and folds his mandibles in tightly to his face. His expression neutral. He knew what was to come.

We’ar-ow’s muscles flexed. A sharp crack pierced through the air. Life still shone in Dwainet’s grey eyes. Then, a roar sounded from your mate. Flesh and muscles alike ripped in a grotesque sound. You had to stop yourself from throwing up your lunch, but neither could you look away.

Green, neon blood dripped down to pool on the platform. Cheers of triumph echoed throughout the modified stadium. You could feel the ground rumbling underneath you, but all was quiet. The dead eyes of your ex-mate staring directly into your soul. The finale had come to a close. We’ar-ow stands as the winner once and for all.

Sound floods back into your ears, deafening to the point they rung. The shimmer of the shield faded away and allowed We’ar-ow freedom. The pink Yautja was the only one to move. Her thick legs dropped down from the platform and marched straight towards you. As much as you wanted to leap out of your chair and ensnared her in a hug, the blood of her enemies painting her skin reframed you.

Her yellow eyes met yours for an infinity. One of her knees dropped to the floor causing a silence to steal the noise of everyone. All was quiet. You gasped, instantly knowing a monarch kneeling was trouble.

In her bloodied hands, she presented you the head of Dwainet. Your heart pounded in your ears.

Your name was boomed across the room. “Do you accept this trophy as a gift of courtship?” We’ar-ow asked and watched every little sign from your expressions. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. Gasps from the crowd could be heard. Chitters and clicks as the translator only focused on the Yautja in front of you.

She was asking for you to be her mate… in front of the clan. She was laying claim over you more than the mark etched into your skin.

A few seconds ticked by. You nodded rapidly and rushed forwards. The head was dodged. Your arms wrapped tightly around We’ar-ow’s neck in hold she wouldn’t dare try to get you off. The blood of four was rubbed into your skin, including the life essence dripping from her missing tresses. We’ar-ow was swift to return the gesture, understanding this meant ‘yes’ in human.

Bellows escaped from the crowd but it was a sound you could care less about. Today was the day that marked the new chapter in your life. A newfound freedom from the chains Dwainet had weighed down on you. You had power not even the highest Yautja aboard this ship besides the monarch has. From the bottom of the barrel to sitting on a throne, you’ve grown.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #We'ar-ow #The Monarch

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idolomantises · 2 years ago

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I think I’m gonna discuss this once and hopefully never have to bring it up again. Originally I wanted to talk about it on Twitter but people are very disrespectful when it comes to mental health so… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Basically, I haven’t been doing so great, mentally. Nothing bad has happened to me, I’m safe and surrounded by people I care about, and it’s been like that for months. I just, I haven’t been feeling good.

For people who do follow me on accounts like Twitter and Instagram, you may have noticed I haven’t posted anything new since January. I was struggling to feel motivated to make something for my main accounts despite having countless ideas I’d love to work on. I feel better now and do plan on getting something done in March, but that sudden lack of motivation is pretty rare for me. Art is not only my job but a big hobby for me, I just love drawing. I did get some nsfw art done at least.

I don’t know what really prompted my mental health decline, I’ve been getting a few worried messages and fanart because someone insulted my art. But that didn’t hurt me at all, it actually boosted my account and patreon.

I guess I just… got sad?

I have a really bad tendency to suppress and even ignore my trauma and feelings of guilt. And I guess one day I really sat with my thoughts and I just, lost it I guess. I have so much traumatic memories and sudden and intense feelings of self loathing, something I’ve never felt in almost a decade, that it got overwhelming. I couldn’t reassure myself, I couldn’t really talk to anyone about it because how do you confront things that happened years ago? You feel almost irrational. It’s just memories that haunt you, it’s nothing physical or tangible and yet it’s a crushing feeling of anxiety, self hatred and resentment.

I was crying almost every day, and crying so much that my eyes kept hurting long after I was done, and I could barely see my own screen. I’ve had paranoid thoughts about myself and others, thoughts I can’t get into because they’re so deeply irrational. I was feeling suicidal urges and thoughts of self harm. I don’t see myself doing it, but it’s so frequent and overwhelming it’s like I’m already planning my suicide note.

I was talking to my therapist about it, that I was starting to hate being alive. That I hated living. That I could spend the next 50 years of my life with no more conflict or trauma and I’d still be in intense misery and turmoil. They’re feelings I couldn’t really bring myself to tell friends about because what could they say? How do you calm yourself down and reassure yourself. I can’t even talk about my trauma verbally without crying. And it’s funny because sometimes minor irks started to affect me negatively. I was feeling anxious about what to draw because I didn’t want to do deal with homophobic backlash.

I went to a therapist, I talked to friends, Ive been working out more and eating better, I did everything I should do to improve my mental health and all of a sudden a single night just sitting in my room destroyed everything I was slowly building up over the past 5 years.

It’s been really difficult for me. I think also, I just felt so much guilt over not being the best person I could be. I decided to lessen my online usage, not just for my mental health but because I really wanted to work on being a better person. I want to stop hating myself and letting my trauma push me down and I want to do just be better and do better as a person. A lot of people have been very forgiving and kind to me but I don’t feel like it’s enough and I want to do more and I want to feel better about myself. I want to give everything I can to people around me. I’ve been going to therapy a lot more lately and things are getting better for me, but it’s been a very slow process.

I just want to repeat that nothing serious has happened to me. Nobody attacked me in a way that negatively affected my health. A lot of people, friends and strangers have been really nice to me these past few months. I just was doing a lot of self reflecting and unintentionally forced myself to confront a lot of my trauma. I’m saying trauma a lot. I don’t want to get into depth about what I endured because it’s my business but people who do know me know how bad things were for me. I don’t want to feel like that again. I want to feel better, and I want to do better.

Sorry for the long read. That’s just how I feel.

#txt #suicide tw #self harm tw #I was very hesitant to discuss this because whenever I talk about mental health it leans into #one side. who are super well meaning but feel obligated to make sure that I’m okay. like I’m their responsibility when I’m just a stranger #online and my thoughts and feelings should never make someone feel like they have to ‘protect’ me #and another side who sees me purposefully be vague about some of the things I discuss like trauma and regret #and just construct their own narrative and get mad at me for it #at this point I’m just too tired to care about the potential backlash of the latter #if you read all this and think I’m saying I did nothing wrong and everyone is bad except for me that’s your fantasy you get to live in #I just want to be honest about my thoughts and feelings

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bibbykins · 1 year ago

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Moonlight Reign Ch. 5

A/N: Lmao hi! I'm back and this chapter is sorta boring but trust the process! Hopefully next chapter will be much sooner! Basically I post a chapter once I have the following one or two done~ Please enjoy and send asks and all that! I keep meaning to make a banner for this series, and one day I will have one!! As usual everyone thank @rapline-heaux my wonderful beta reader who read this months ago lmaooo

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yandere Mafia! BTS x Reader

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, poly relationship, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mafia activities, crime, manipulation, crying, trauma, sensory flashbacks, murder, pining, past abuse, past neglect, familial issues, academic neglect, Taehyung and Jimin being mean, abandonment

By the time Jungkook returned to his apartment, all six of his lovers were seated around his dining table, waiting for him. The men looked at the youngest with an aura of moderate annoyance. They hated tardiness, and Jungkook could only imagine the story he spun about you.

“How are you going to be late to the emergency meeting you called?” Jin asked, sighing as he checked his nails impatiently.

“Go on, tell em where you were.” Taehyung snipped, but Yoongi clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“Don’t bother, he already whined about it.” Namjoon sighed out.

Jungkook snorted, “Yeah, I can tell by the way Jimin looks pissed too.” The MMA fighter bristled at this but sighed, crossing his arms.

“I’ll never understand what you guys have against her.” Hoseok rolled his eyes, “How is she, dare I ask?” He sarcastically spoke, “According to Tae she’s the Devil incarnate.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes at this, landing on the man in question to send him a glare, “Did he tell you how much of an asshole he was?”

“Funnily enough, he neglected to mention his behavior.” Yoongi spoke, not breaking his eye contact with Taehyung who shrunk in his seat a bit, “I also will never understand why she gets under both of your skin so much.” He looked to JImin who shifted in his seat, “None of our trysts have ever gotten to you both.”

“She’s different.” Taehyung snarled bitterly. No one said it, but the sentiment was there. You were different because Jungkook kept going back to you. You were different because instead of making him worse and leaving them to pick up the pieces, you made him… better. You helped him come from the depths of rock bottom in a way none of them had been capable of doing due to their own internal battles, and it weighed on the two men in a way that guilt could never fully encapsulate.

“Anyways.” Jungkook spoke, plopping down next to Yoongi who sat at the head of the table, “I’m sure everyone here wants to know why I called you here?” He asked, and the men looked on expectantly. It was rare for Jungkook to call these meetings, especially so close to the anniversary date. Truthfully, he was surprised that they were all even able to attend in the first place, but it was all fate after all, at least in his eyes, “Well, I have just given us the best anniversary gift yet.” The men in the room perked up noticeably.

“Did Byungjoo seriously give you something useful?” Jimin asked curiously, “I thought I was supposed to go in tomorrow because he’s not talking about the old man’s whereabouts?” He looked to Namjoon whose gaze stayed fixed on Jungkook.

“Yeah… you told me he wasn’t squealing?” The CEO asked suspiciously.

“And he didn’t, not about Byungyeol.” Jungkook confirmed, “But he did mention something… about the girl.” Yoongi’s back was pin straight as the younger man spoke.

“Isn’t she dead?” Hoseok asked, making Yoongi’s jaw set.

“Hey, we don’t know that for sure,” Jin argued for the sake of the second oldest who waited for Jungkook to continue with bated breath.

“Oh come on.” Taehyung huffed out, “That fire–”

“Enough.” Yoongi grit out, “Let him finish.”

Jungkook smiled a bit, all too eager to finally have you out in the open, “She’s alive.” The room went still as he continued, “He gave me her name, and I had to check it out to make sure he wasn’t lying but… I found her.”

“No way.” Jimin gasped, turning to the older man who had a lump in his throat, “What did you wanna do with her, boss?” The title was a bit sarcastic, “She sharing the same fate as Byungjoo?”

“No.” Jungkook and Yoongi spoke in unison, making the two look at each other curiously. Everyone in the room knew Yoongi had a certain fixation on finding the green girl, especially as they were preparing for the fall of the Moon group, but they weren’t sure why. The only person who really knew had been Jin who remained as tight-lipped as ever about the topic.

Yoongi cleared his throat to break some of the tension, “No, I don’t think I plan to kill her.” He spoke cooly, but Jungkook’s jaw set at the mere possibility.

“None of us will be killing or harming her.” Jungkook proclaimed, making the two bosses in the room glared at him.

“That’s not your call to make, JK.” Namjoon reminded him, but he shook his head in defiance.

“Why do you even care?” Jin asked curiously.

Taehyung watched with squinted eyes as he studied the scene before him. Jungkook never once cared about who lived or died. Hell, he hated attending most meetings. It didn’t make sense why he’d care about some random girl he didn’t know–

Oh.

Rage bubbled in the pit of Taehyung’s stomach as the puzzle pieces clicked into place, “It’s because she’s been right next door this whole time, isn’t it?” He piped up, and Jungkook’s glare at him deepened, “She’s fucking dea–” Taehyung stood and Jimin followed suit.

“Sit down.” Yoongi hissed, and the men had no other choice but to listen as he turned to the maknae, “Is that true?”

Jungkook pursed his lips and let out a short laugh, “And I had no fucking clue,” He admitted, and Namjoon wanted to bang his head on the table. All of the men knew that Jungkook wouldn’t lie about this kind of thing, not when it meant so much to Yoongi, but still–

“How could you be so careless–”

“We all thought she was dead!” Jungkook defended himself, and Yoongi remained quiet, “None of us knew her name, how she looked, hell, we didn’t even know her real age, evidently.” He sighed, “She didn’t even know about me.”

“What?” Hoseok chimed in, “You’re telling me this is all a coincidence?” He asked incredulously, but Jungkook stood his ground.

“The reason I’ve been so off these days?” He offered, and his boyfriends stiffened, “She saw Namjoon on the news as Bangtan Corp’s CEO, and she… I mean, she’s not an idiot. She added two and two together.” He bitterly admitted, “Our one rule was shattered, so we agreed to go our separate ways but…”

Jin scrunched his brows as he took it in, “You couldn’t let her go, could you?” He asked, and the implications made the men in the room feel ill. Jungkook, the man who could have multiple one-night stands in a night without feeling an ounce of affection for them, couldn’t let you, his friend, walk out of his life, “Jungkook you…”

“She was all I had during…” He trailed off, and the other men could fill in the blanks, “We found each other at our lowest, and now I see why she was so skittish at first it…” He sighed, “It was fate, I see that now.”

“Fate?!” Taehyung guffawed, “She was playing you!”

“How?!” He challenged, raising his voice back, “It’s been years and she’s never once asked me for anything!”

“Everyone calm down, okay?” Hoseok tried to mediate, “Look, I agree with Jungkook, there’s no way she knew or was playing him.” He defended and Jimin scoffed, “I’m serious. I was the one who watched her those days, alright?”

“Byungjoo had no idea I even knew her.” Jungkook mentioned, “I didn’t tell him I did, obviously. He just… immediately gave me her name and her phone number.” He said, but sighed, “She got a new phone the day after she saw Namjoon on the news, you know.” He admitted, “I know now Byungjoo called her that day and she freaked out, now I know why.”

“Freaked out?” Yoongi asked, expression unreadable.

“Why would she freak out if her uncle called?” Namjoon asked, the Moon family was supposed to be tight-knit.

“She’s…” Jungkook tried to find the word, “I don’t think she was raised how we thought at all, hyung.” He admitted, and it made the older man’s stomach churn, “I think we need to reevaluate everything we thought we knew about the Moon family.” Whispers in the Underworld spoke of a spoiled yet deadly princess who got everything she wanted at the snap of a finger. You were supposed to have been pampered to a nauseating degree.

“Why don’t we ask her ourselves?” Jimin bitterly added, unbelieving that you could be anything other than what they’d been told.

“Fine.” Jungkook surprisingly agreed, “But not tonight.”

“What are we even going to do with her?” Jin asked finally, “If we’re not going to kill her then what?” He felt the need to add, “We can’t let her run. Obviously, she was planning to.”

“We hire her.” Yoongi announced and all of the men except Namjoon looked at him in surprise.

“Just like that?” Hoseok chuckled, “Very well then.”

“What use do we have for her?” Jimin hissed just as Taehyung stood.

“You’re joking.” Taehyung seethed, “Hire her to what? Stab us in the back?”

“I haven’t heard anything to suggest she has any allegiance to her family.” Namjoon reasoned, “And she is a nurse, has been Jungkook’s very own for a while now.” He added with a tinge of bitterness, “It only makes sense that–”

“No way in hell am I going to the green girl prodigy killer to heal me.” Taehyung scoffed.

“Then don’t.” Yoongi clipped, making the man scowl further, “But if you need to, she is our new nurse, effective immediately.”

Hoseok, utterly amused, beamed a bit at this, “And no more coming to me to patch you up anymore.” He added, making Taehyung click his tongue, “I’m no good at it and it makes me have to cut into our supply.” He defended. Hoseok had some medical training, he had to in order to be the knowledgeable pharmacist he was now, but he didn’t like using it.

“And who’s going to tell her?” Jin asked, seemingly unphased by the night’s events, but he seldom was.

“I will.” Yoongi proclaimed, “I’ll speak with her tomorrow and lay out the terms after we hammer them out tonight.” Jungkook stiffened at the idea of the other members seeing you, but it was unavoidable. All he really cared about was the fact that your heart would remain beating and you would be relatively free.

Jimin glared at Jungkook, “What did you two talk about over there?” He asked.

Jungkook stiffened at the memory of just moments ago before returning his lover’s harsh gaze, “Have something you wanna say?”

“Interesting that Jungkook gets to keep his toy.” Taehyung spat, making the man in question snarl before Jimin had a chance to say anything.

“She is not a toy.” Yoongi hissed to everyone’s surprise. He cleared his throat, letting the heat melt from his body, “She is now a vital member of the group and should be treated as such.” This made Jungkook smile.

—

“...And then you tie it like this.” Eunhwa explained, tying the know just above the tip of your gash, “These are poligecaprone sutures, best for general tissue repair, like this.” She was so dutiful in her words, you almost envied how well-spoken she was. Eunhwa was a new instructor since the last one stopped showing up, and you didn’t have it in you to worry when she was so rotten. So far, Eunhwa was quite kind, but she made a displeased face at your wound, and you wondered if she blamed you for it. Father did, after all. He always said you had no business being as clumsy as you were.

Nevertheless, you watched the needle enter your skin and the knot she tied carefully as you nodded, ten-year-old mouth trying to form the word in silence as you did the next suture, the pattern being interrupted, “Pol–” You cut yourself off, looking at Eunhwa with surprise at the fact that you made a noise. You knew the rules, you knew legacies don’t speak unless they have something useful to say.

You gulped, waiting for admonishment or a behavior report to be made and handed to your uncle, but instead, she smiled, “Do you want help sounding it out?” She asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” You whispered out.

A brief moment of sadness, an emotion you couldn’t identify yet, flashed on her face before she dutifully guided you through the word.

You completed the knot and she checked your work with a nod, “Very good.” She mused before her eyes flicked to yours, “Did it hurt? Your father suggested I not give you numbing cream, but if it hurt too bad I can try to convince him.” She offered, but you shook your head. She looked at you quizzically, “It didn’t hurt?” You shook your head again. It hadn’t hurt more than anything else you’d taken, “You don’t want me to talk to him?”

You swallowed, left with no other choice but to talk, “I can take it. I must.” You echoed his words, “It’s my job.” You solemnly spoke and Eunhwa paused for a moment, before nodding.

“Very well.” She spoke softly, “I won’t talk to him, then. Just, speak freely around me, okay?” She asked, “I won’t tell, I promise.”

You nodded, unable to say that you didn’t know how to speak freely.

—

If sleep found you, it certainly didn’t feel like it. Your eyes opened, and it felt like a mere blink. Nevertheless, the sun was slowly beginning to light the sky. The world was still turning for you, for now. You wondered how long you could keep that up.

It wasn’t going to be long now before the devil was coming to collect your soul in the form of one of the Bangtan men, so you decided to use your last moment to speak to the only other person who ever cared what you had to say.

The line rang only twice before she picked up, and before she could say anything you spoke, “It’s over.” You breathed, “They found me.”

“What?” Eunhwa asked, and you could hear a door close, “No, that can’t be–”

For the first time in your life, you cut her off, “It’s okay.” You breathed out shakily, “I lived a bit.” You wanted to say you were ready to die, but you weren’t. You weren’t and the fact made you envious of your past self. A puppet with no concept of a life to live can’t fear death.

“No you didn’t.” She seethed, making your jaw clench. She was right. Your life had just barely started. You still had so much to learn and so many things to do that were now evaporating right before your eyes, “Are you sure they’re going to kill you?” She asked, and your brows scrunched.

“They’ve been looking for me this long.” You pointed out, “Why would they keep me alive? Even if Jungkook were to plead my case.”

“Why would they kill you though?” Her voice was too hopeful for you, but you let her speak anyway, “Why would they kill someone they’ve been pursuing this hard?”

“Eunhwa–” You were cut off by a sharp knock on the door that made your stomach fall, “Thank you.”

“Don’t talk like that.” She hissed, but you could hear the quiver in her voice, “I-I’m going to make a few calls and–” The knock on your door pounded louder this time, and you smiled sadly.

“I have to go.” You simply said before hanging up. You took a deep breath before approaching the door. You figured death was best faced without thought. You had spoken to the one person from your past life that would miss you, and that was enough.

The doorknob was unbelievably cold in your hand as you opened it. You didn’t realize you were looking down until you were left to stare at the fanciest pair of dress shoes you’d seen in a while. Finally, you looked up to face the man before you, and it was like time stopped for a moment. Something about his sharp eyes was eerily familiar, and it nearly gave you a headache trying to think about it.

Yoongi on the other hand, found himself blown away by you. Finally, after years of searching and clawing his way through unwritten records of the underground, here you were. Right under his nose this whole time. How many times had he passed you in the elevator or in the mail room? You were beautiful, stunning even, so how could he have missed you for this long? He watched you drink him in with knitted brows and a brief flash of recognition nearly made him jump back. Could you truly recognize him, even after all you went through since?

“Do… Do I know you?” You asked, and Yoongi smiled. You could see the melancholy dripping from the expression, making you feel even more uneased, “Are you here to kill me?” You asked, voice smaller than you hoped but you supposed it wasn’t going to matter much pretty soon.

“Quite the opposite.” He quickly corrected you. Yoongi couldn’t kill you even if he wanted to. You may not be able to recognize him, but he’d know your face anywhere. It was his one comfort for a long time until it was ripped from him, “May I come in?” He raised a brow and you shrugged.

“I don’t suppose I have much of a choice.” You mumbled under your breath before walking to your couch.

Yoongi shut the door behind him, studying your form. Even in this despaired state, you were full of more life than he’d ever seen before. A smidge of jealousy boiled in his blood at the realization Jungkook got to see you laugh and act aloof like a friend would this whole time. He shook it off, sitting on the armchair next to the evidently second-hand furniture you sat on, “Needless to say, I am involved with Bangtan.” You nodded, eyes clouded with a million different emotions, “I am Min Yoongi, one of the seven bosses.” You sat on the couch next to the chair, never taking your eyes off of him.

“I don’t recognize you like I do Namjoon.” You spoke, studying his face further.

He flashed you a tight smile, heart panging from hearing you say you don’t recognize him, “I’m in charge of running our underground operations and appearances.” He explained and your mouth formed a small O for a moment.

“Wait.” You spoke, studying him further, “Min…” His surname stuck to your lips for a reason you couldn’t place, “I know that name I…” You bit your lip, you prided yourself on remembering faces and placing them just as well, but something about him clouded that ability, “Did I…”

“No, I don’t have a vendetta against you.” He shook his head, and you scrunched your brows, “I do against your father and uncle, but you’ve done nothing to harm me.” He spoke, “It’s why we plan to let you live.”

“And not them.” You finished for him, heart dropping a bit when he nodded. You knew you should’ve been more upset hearing that your father and uncle were to be murdered, but you didn’t care too much if you were being honest. It wasn’t as if they would’ve felt any different if the roles were reversed, even if the child in you was mourning them.

However, Yoongi was unnerved by your lack of reaction, “Does that upset you?” He asked, genuinely unable to tell.

“Not really, no.” You spoke honestly, not wanting to nor trained in the art of lying all that well, “So I get to live?” The glimmer of hope in your eyes squeezed at his chest in a way that made him shift a bit.

“In exchange for something else.” He confirmed, and your body went stiff as you waited for him to continue, “Your time and knowledge.”

You sighed. Fuck, you were screwed if he needed you to know anything of use, but most importantly, you were tired, “If you think I’m at all still connected to the Underworld…”

“No, no.” He stopped you short, and you looked at him quizzically, “I would’ve found you long ago if you were.” You nodded, and his confidence was all you needed in order to see him for what he was. He was the man who triggered the downfall of your family. You wanted to hate him for it, but you couldn’t, not really, “We all agreed to hire you on as our new nurse” Your breath hitched at his words, mind swimming with a million different things, “We will compensate you for your time and stock whatever supplies you need. You will also have our protection.”

You nodded, but you could hardly believe it, “Who will be my patients?” You asked.

“The seven of us.” He didn’t need to elaborate much further than that, “The lower echelons have their own designated medical services.” He explained, and you were a little impressed by it it all. Your father’s organization was not nearly this… well, organized. You and Eunhwa were the primary medical services for the upper echelons and the lower members had to fend for themselves.

“And can I still have my current job?” You asked, and you breathed a sigh of relief when he nodded.

“Yes, it’s best that way.” He confirmed, “If any of us need you during your work hours, we will make sure to tell you beforehand so we can coordinate that in a way that doesn’t look suspicious.” He said, but it all sounded too good to be true.

You fixed a sharp look on him, “What else?”

He sighed, “Tomorrow, we plan to have you come forward.” You had to grip the couch to stop your bones from turning to jelly at the fear that burned you from the inside, “Without revealing your identity fully, of course.” He quickly added, but it did nothing to ease you, and something about your evident panic made him feel sick, “We plan to have you announce your intent to bring your father and uncle to justice. It may draw the old man out.” He leaned forward, trying to catch your panicked gaze that’d been darting across the room, “All you have to do is record a voice line tonight, include something that only you would know, and send it to me.” He said, and it slowed your heart a mere fraction, “We will take care of the rest.”

“How will you explain this to the public?” You asked, but he simply shook his head, “They’re going to demand my head I bet.” You were a cold-hearted killer. You knew that the few people that did hear of you firsthand had seldom good to say. Who even knew what your father publicized about you? You stayed away from the news because you didn’t need to know.

“How scared you are right now tells me that the public will never have been so happy to be wrong about someone.” He mused, and your brows scrunched in confusion, “You were supposed to be some prissy spoiled heiress who killed when she bribed to.”

“Bribed? Spoiled?” You balked, shaking your head, “That–” You didn’t even know what those words really meant until you met Jungkook, “How did–”

“Your father controlled the narrative for a long time.” He spoke, words heavier than he knew, “He won’t now.” He spoke as if it were so simple, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but be honest about what kind of man he and Byungjoo were.” He chuckled, no amusement behind it, “Taehyung will be by in a bit to take your statement and give you the contract.” He stood, and you wanted to complain about Taehyung being the one to do it. However, you held your tongue, only nodding, obedient as ever and you hated it. But what choice did you have?

“Yes, sir.” You sighed, and the silent submission made Yoongi feel disgusted with himself.

“No need for that.” He shook his head, making you look up at him in confusion, ��Please, just call me Yoongi.” His plea was a little too noticeable, but you nodded anyway, “I’m not your father nor your uncle.” He said softly, but that was only something you would believe when you saw it for yourself, “Were they…” He stopped, trying to think of how to ask such a thing, “You really weren’t spoiled or sheltered, were you?” He asked, already knowing just by how you looked away.

“No, not in the way you think.” You breathed, “I was an employee more than anything.” You murmured, embarrassed for some reason, “I see that now more than ever.”

“I see.” He simply said, “And Jungkook…” You stiffened at the mention, “Has he been good to you?” He asked against his better judgment. This wasn’t his business, no matter how much he wanted it to be.

You nodded, and he felt his shoulders relax, “No one had ever been so kind to me.” You refrained from cursing him for bringing the Underworld back to your door. Not only were you unsure how angry you were, you doubted his boyfriend would fancy hearing it.

“Good.” He simply said before taking his leave.

—

“Look, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here,” Taehyung said when you opened the door to reveal him and Jungkook’s favorite MMA fighter, Park Jimin, at his side. You didn’t even have the energy to be surprised as he regarded you with as much hatred as Taehyung held, “So let’s get this over with.” He pushed past you to enter your apartment. Namjoon trailed behind them, at least having the decorum to nod at you.

You thought about introducing yourself to Jimin, but decided against it at his glare, “Right.” You simply breathed.

“First, here’s the contract.” Jimin shoved the paper toward you as you read through it. You may not have been the best speaker or the best writer, but you could sure as hell read. Reading was all you could do for a long time. When you signed your name, his nose scrunched, “You write like a grade-schooler.” He spoke, and it pricked at your deepest shame. You had only been writing for the most part for five years.

The pen snapped in your hand, but you paid no attention to the ink that spilled onto your skin, “Fuck you.” You hissed, taking him aback for a moment.

“Watch it.” Taehyung snapped, pausing as he set up the equipment.

“I don’t talk back unless spoken to.” You snarled, moving to wash the ink off, “I don’t need this from either of you, especially not tonight.” You sat at the table, waiting for him to position the mic, “So let’s just get this over with, I have work tomorrow.”

“Everyone relax.” Namjoon finally spoke, “We can be adults about this.” He glared at the three of you, before letting his gaze land on you, “I’m going to ask you questions, and you respond accordingly.” You nodded.

“Okay, Ms. Moon, I say as this is not your real last name, please address your father Byungyeol.” He spoke into the mic. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. What the hell was there to say? You had laid it all out to him five years ago. You had shown true and genuine weakness, real desperation, and he didn’t hesitate in turning his back to you.

You looked at Namjoon, expression totally lost and much more vulnerable than you wanted. Something about the way you looked like a puppy tugged at his heartstrings a bit in a way he didn’t understand, “What? Don’t wanna disparage your precious dad?” Taehyung taunted, snapping the CEO from his trance.

Your eyes snapped to him in a sharp glare, “How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t know one thing about me?” You seethed, but he looked less than convinced.

“Look, just pretend he was rotten and mean and you’re scared of him.” Jimin spoke to you as if you were a child, and it only made you angrier, “You should be used to lying, come on princess.”

“Enough!” Namjoon silenced the two men, “If you upset her it’ll show in her statement.” He spoke, as cold as ever, “Behave.” He ordered before looking to you, “Now, tell me is Byungyeol a good man?”

“No.” You spoke, immediately, and you were both disappointed when he waited for you to elaborate and you had nothing to say. You didn’t know how to do this, and it pissed you off. Jungkook knew how to keep you talking all the time, and so did Eunhwa, but outside of them, you were a mere soundboard. Namjoon could see the frustration on your face, and it unsettled him.

Why were you having such a hard time talking? He looked around the room to see his lovers glaring harshly down at you and figured maybe that was the reason. He sighed, “How is she supposed to feel comfortable saying anything with you two looking at her like that?” He asked, shaking his head, “Bring Jungkook or Hoseok in.” He waved them off with a sigh.

“No, it’s fine.” You grit out, the pride in you swelling, “They can think what they want to.” You didn’t even dignify them with a glare, “Again.” You nodded at Namjoon who finally broke his disbelieving look at you with a sigh.

“Okay.” He fixed his tie despite this whole thing only being audio, but you supposed it just made sense he was constantly aware of his appearance, “Let’s try a different approach.” He announced, “Just talk directly to your father.” He said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, “Tell him to turn himself in and be sure to mention something only you would know. Do the same with your uncle for the sake of optics.” He ordered and you wanted to say you weren’t sure if your father committed his actions towards you to memory. Odds are many of those days and nights tattooed in your memory weren’t out of the ordinary for him, as mundane as brushing his teeth. However, you shut your mouth. It wasn’t your problem if it didn’t work.

You nodded and he gestured for you to start after Taehyung clicked the record button, “Father, I…” You took a deep breath as you tapped on your thigh mindlessly, “I think it’s time to atone for your sins.” Your words were shaky, “Remember? We don’t show fear, and you shouldn’t now.” The words were heavy on your tongue, “You told me that you find me in three years… that we would be a normal family after I begged you not to leave me alone, all by myself in a world I never got to see.” You wanted to choke on your father’s false promise, “It’s been five years since that day, and I’ve grown up a lot since then. I understand now more than ever how wrong you were about so much, and I have solemnly accepted the consequences of my actions under your guidance.” Your leg began bouncing as you spoke, “It’s time for you and uncle to do the same.” You tried to think of anything else to say, but it was all you had, so you looked at Namjoon, “Good?”

His eyes were clouded, and you were unable to make out how exactly he felt. However, one thing remained that was clear, he was undeniably skeptical of you. That was fine, you didn’t need his trust, you just needed your heart to be beating, “Yeah, that’ll do for now.” He nodded to Jimin and Taehyung, “If he doesn’t come forward, we may need more.” You nodded, and that was thankfully enough for him.

“You can let yourselves out.” You sighed, “I’m exhausted, so goodnight.” You didn’t bother to wait for a response as you turned on your heel and shut your bedroom door behind you.

Namjoon opened his mouth to mention that they didn’t have a key, but you didn’t seem to care anyway. He sighed, a mix of conflicting emotions swirling in his chest as Taehyung packed up.

“She’s the worst.” Tarhyung grumbled under his breath as Jimin curtly nodded. Namjoon rolled his eyes, knowing the two men well enough to see when they felt a twinge of regret. It was obvious at least some of what they heard about you was incorrect– if your statement was to be believed, that is.

----------------------

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Masterlist

#bts mafia au #bts fanfic #bts series #bts poly au #ot7 x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #bts x reader #mafia bts #yandere mafia bts

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httpknjoon · 1 year ago

Text

(re)starting over again | kth; 10

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 4.3k+

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader

warning/s | -

note | oh my god. hi, everyone! i'm still alive haha i apologize for the *long* delay. may wasn't my month 🙃 but now, i'm here and I split this chapter, so expect a 10.5. this is A LOT OF ANGST. no fluff for now. just full-on gloomy. also, i'll be replying to everyone who sent their asks soon! tysm for sending 'em. again, i apologize for the delay! enjoy reading :)

main masterlist | series masterlist

Someone’s a little gloomy today.

The sound of echoing thunder woke you up today, along with the rings of your alarm in your phone. 5:15 AM. You groaned as the brightness from your phone’s screen hit your vision. After five more minutes of just staring at the most uninteresting wall in your room, you get up from your bed to prepare for work.

Unsurprisingly, your head feels heavy and so is your chest and eyes. Every step of your bare foot on the ground strangely felt like you were floating into space. The weather is cozy and cold, but you didn’t even flinch when the cold water hits your skin. You stood under the shower, the heater not even on, just staring at your feet.

I mean, he could have told me.

The sentence popped into your head. There is this part of you that is in between the scale of angry and sad after knowing about Lily visiting the bakeshop and talking to Taehyung. You wondered if Taehyung even had planned on telling you or if he don’t think he should have told you. You are starting to think he was only friendlier with you these past few days because he learned what happened between him and Lily. You’re beginning to think that he is only nicer to you now after bad their relationship went.

But did he even owe me that? I’m basically a stranger to him.

Another idea, opposite the other one, crossed your mind. You always try to be understanding and put yourself in his shoes in this confusing situation. The fact that your boyfriend doesn’t really have any idea who you are always staying in the back of your head. It’s always there as a reminder that Taehyung doesn’t know you. And his not telling you that he met up with his ex-girlfriend days ago confirmed that you are probably someone in the background for him. Someone… who suddenly lives in this house with him.

And thanks to that confirmation, more questions were formed by your brain.

You shut your eyes close and turned your head up, feeling the waterdrops on your face. Sighing, “Who even am I here?”

Taehyung, what am I even to you here?

The question floats in Taehyung’s head over and over again. The pain and confusion in your voice also play on a loop, adding weight to his shoulders and thorns in his throat. He wished he could answer that question easily, but he can’t. Seeing someone who treated him with care and kindness break down in front of him because of him is a slap on his face.

Because Lily is your girlfriend… right?

More guilt built up in him when he learned that you were aware that he still initially saw Lily as his girlfriend after he woke from the accident. It surprised him to hear you say that you cannot be mad with that. When you said that, he almost instantly wanted you to be angry at him, to let out every emotion you were feeling at the time.

Because you are too considerate and kind… and patient with him and this situation you’ve been put into. You didn’t even have to stay; you could’ve just left him the moment the doctor told you about his amnesia and all. But you stayed… and even looked after him for a whole month. Looking back at everything now, he knew. He should have just told you.

He thought you would be mad at him for reaching out to an ex. He didn’t know how you would react if he asked about Lily. He didn’t know you and he admit that was his fault. He has been working on knowing you these past few days, but now after last night, it felt too late. He should have made an effort earlier than this. As much as he hates it, Taehyung’s list of should haves is getting longer.

Now, a tray of chocolate chip cookies bakes in this oven you two have in your kitchen. He decided to make some after having trouble sleeping. He was shifting and turning on his bed for hours, possibly because of two causes: his head injury and you. Earlier, you were talking about how much you’ve been craving cookies. He knows that his cookies cannot resolve what’s going on right now, but he hoped that they will make you feel better. Even a little.

Taehyung managed to sleep for a couple of hours but still woke up later two hours past midnight. He quietly prepares and bakes the ingredients for the cookies. He was quick as it was the easiest pastry he can make. By the time he was putting the tray in the oven, he heard grumbles of thunder.

Should I put it in the jar? Or…

Almost thirty minutes past three, Taehyung yawned as he waited for the cookies to cool down before he stores them. He looked around your kitchen. In these quiet moments, he is finally starting to notice some details in some corners of this place. Particularly, the kitchen. He wondered if he picked the color of the walls or what to put in it when you two bought the house. His curiosity begins to grow about what you built together throughout your four-year relationship.

He wondered how great everything was before he lost his memories of the last five years.

You were supposed to leave at six o clock. But you didn’t realize how much you took your time with your thoughts that you ended up leaving twenty minutes late than your plan. Rushing to leave, you didn’t bother for breakfast and ran straight to the front door in your scrubs and jacket with backpack and umbrella in hand. If you still have time to spare when you arrive at the hospital, you’ll just buy something in its cafeteria.

As you get off the bus, you speed-walk to the hospital. You were too in a hurry to recognize who greeted you along the way, but you just greeted them back anyway. By the time you reached the locker room, you were catching your breath with less than ten minutes left to prepare for your shift.

Thank God, Jisoo’s not here. You sighed when you looked at yourself in front of the small mirror in your locker. Your eyes… were puffy. It’s not that bad. But everyone who will look directly at your eyes would tell the difference. You hoped no one else would notice.

“Good morning!”

Your eyebrows raised. Julia’s jolly greeting filled the quiet room when she entered. A couple of nurses who were also there greeted her back while you hid behind your locker door, trying to think of a quick remedy or even an explanation for your eyes. Because next to Jisoo, Julia is your closest friend here. She started working here two years ago. Her kind and sociable nature made her a friend to everyone. You three immediately went friends during a mutual graveyard shift schedule.

“Hey, YN. Good morning.” she opened her locker, which was next to yours.

You gulped, “Good morning, Ju.”

After one last look in the mirror, you closed the door. Julia was busy organizing her things in the locker, while she continues speaking.

“Jisoo’s already on break for her wedding, right?” she asked, still not giving you a glance.

“Ah, yes. For only one week though.” You replied, trying to act normal. You don’t know if you should go or wait for her to time in since you two usually do—with Jisoo if your shift schedule match up.

“You know, my dress for the weekend is still in the— Oh, what happened?”

In a quick glance, she immediately spotted a certain emotion on your face. Concern was written all over her face as she stopped and faced you.

“W-What?” you chuckled awkwardly, looking away.

“Why did you cry? What’s going on?” she asked softly, still worried. “Are you okay?”

Oh, that question. You don’t know what the hell that question has, it always breaks you down. You bit your lower lip as you looked back at Julia. You tried to hold on to the strings that were putting you together.

You sighed shakingly, “Yeah.”

A small, sad smile formed on her lips, “You sure?”

You feel like if you try to say anything again, it will just turn into a sob. So, you just nod. Unexpectedly, she reached out her arms and hugged you. Julia knew something was wrong. Well, she can definitely read through your eyes and the simple quirk of your lips that you probably don’t know you do whenever you’re bothered or tired. She can even feel the weight you’ve been carrying in an embrace.

“How about let’s go out together later? After this shift?” she offered.

“Sure.” You agreed, washing down any effort to put a useless mask on your emotions.

The cookies that he left on the kitchen counter for you were left untouched. He left it in a Tupperware, something that can fit in your backpack, along with a small post-it, written: cookies u can bring @ your shift today :)

He likes to think that the Tupperware probably went unnoticed by you instead of thinking that you ignored it. But what if you did? The idea of you being mad at him scares him.

“I swear, whoever will eat those cupcakes would choke on rainbow sprinkles.” Jimin entered the kitchen when Taehyung was just spacing out. He hung his coat behind the door and put on his apron. “What’s up?”

“Hmm?”

Jimin went on, “I arrived twenty minutes late and you already made two batches of blueberry cupcakes, one tray of snickerdoodles, and a lot of banana bread. What’s going on?”

Taehyung stared at him for a second, having battles in his head if he should tell his best friend about what happened. Jimin didn’t fail to remind him about telling you about Lily. And if he learns how you reacted last night—Oh, just sucked it up. Taehyung exhaled.

“YN learned about Lily.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow, “You told her?”

“She found through Lily herself,” Taehyung replied and he can read the confusion on his friend’s face.

“Huh?”

Taehyung went on telling how you and Lily introduced yourselves, how you introduced yourself as his friend, how Lily shared that she visited the bakeshop just last week, and how you remained quiet and bottled up with emotions until you two went home.

“She was so upset, she didn’t want to talk about it,” Taehyung recalled. “But she just broke down and she is still so nice in the middle of telling me how she feels. She told me that she cannot be mad at me for meeting up with Lily or for everything else. Because she understands. She always understands and I’m sure she is a wonderful person– but… But I really didn’t just give us a chance. She reminded me that we also happened after asking me who is she in this whole thing.”

He paused, remembering almost every word you said to him last night. He was too busy chasing what happened five years ago that he ignored someone and something important in his present time.

“Then, who is she to you?” his best friend asked.

“I… I don’t know.” Taehyung sighed, unsure. “But she’s not a stranger. Calling her a stranger would be an insult. I know she’s much more than that.”

There was a few seconds of silence. Taehyung looked down, resting his hands on his working table. Jimin just pats his shoulder for comfort. He knew saying things like I told you so or anything close to that is just useless. Taehyung already knew what he had done, he don’t need more reminders that he probably fucked up.

“Well, you need to figure that out.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know anymore, Ju.”

You wiped off the tears on your cheek as you confessed. Finally, after a whole day shift at the hospital, you get to open up to someone. As soon as you two left the hospital and changed into your casual clothes, Julia drove you two to her apartment since you don’t really feel like going anywhere. She ordered pizza and non-alcoholic drinks, which were delivered just minutes after you two arrived there.

No time was wasted. She didn’t even have to ask again for you to open up. For the last forty minutes, you’ve been telling whatever you feel like sharing to your friend. It did take off some weight on your chest as she listened and nods.

“I mean, I know that he’s just trying to know what happened between him and his ex. But I cannot understand why he didn’t tell me… Or maybe ask me about it. I know something about it. He told me how they broke up years ago. He told me what went wrong. Just like how I shared experiences with my past relationships too. And that’s how it used to be.” You reached for another tissue Julia offered. “We used to tell each other everything. Communication and honesty always mattered to him.”

“And it would have been nice if he let me know about his plans on talking with Lily. It’s perfectly fine by me. But he didn’t and now I’m starting to feel that he sees me as nothing. Just a person around him, who lives in the same house as him—or worse, he sees me as someone who just looks after him… like his nurse.”

The last thought squeezed your heart out. Taehyung even had a hard time introducing you yesterday to Lily. You took the initiative to introduce yourself to his ex as his friend. You don’t know what to feel about it. Should you be mad or sad? But can you blame him? You can never blame Taehyung. You always try to understand what he went through with that accident and what he is going through now. But as much as you hate to admit it…

“I feel like I’m burning out. I’m fucking drained.”

Another tear rolled down your cheeks while you shake your head. Saying that sentence felt like a confession of a crime. You don’t know why. You didn’t follow with another sentence again. Julia gave you a glass of water to help you calm down.

“You can take a break too, you know?” she whispered as you gulped in the liquid down your throat. “You can pause…”

Julia was gentle with her tone and choice of words.

“I think, you've already done enough. You took a month's leave to take care of Taehyung, to at least help him adjust to these big changes happen. You waited for him to ask about you or your relationship, which he did– Well, he tried. You are great. You were nothing caring and understanding for him and your relationship.” She paused and held your hand, preparing you for what she is about to say. “But he… he just has his eyes on people he knew before you.”

You almost hissed with the harsh sentiment of your friend. It felt like someone pulled the band-aid off your fresh, unhealed wound. But still, it felt like you needed to hear that. Julia, on the other hand, saw you flinch and held your palm tighter.

She continued, “The Taehyung you met before the accident is different from the Taehyung you live together now. As you said, five years ago, he went through a breakup with his ex. That breakup may have caused changes in him that made him into the Taehyung you initially met.”

It’s complicated. But you get what she is trying to say. A lot of things happened in Taehyung’s life before you two crossed paths. He broke up with Lily, and his bakery began to hit success and invest in other stuff in his life. A lot of other changes happened. Then, you two met through mutual friends.

“And please, YN, let yourself feel things.” Julia spoke suddenly, making you meet her gaze, “It’s unhealthy. Be sad, be mad, or be happy. Or simply take a break if you feel like it. Don’t deny yourself of feeling anything. You can be mad.” She said it like a reminder. “You have every right to feel so. I know you’re trying to justify Taehyung reaching out to an ex behind your back as part of this knotty situation. But at least, out of respect to you, he should have at least told you before or after he did so.”

“That’s why you’re so burnout right now, hon. You’ve done nothing but give and give. You forgot about your limits too… Are you even still okay working in the same hospital after everything?”

She asked and almost instantly, you remembered the night of the accident. You were waiting for your boyfriend to pick you up in the same spot you always waited in. Then, you received this call. Next thing you know, you’re seeing him getting pulled out of the ambulance. Bloody and bruised. Your stomach twisted with the recollection of his state that night. Thankfully, Julia called your name, snapping you out of your trance.

“Just know that you’re not alone in any of this. You don’t have to carry everything on your own. Jisoo and I are always here for you. And I really appreciate you opening up to me now.” She smiled softly before pulling you in for another hug.

After that hug, you two moved on to lighter topics. You asked her about her preparation for Jisoo and Namjoon’s special day at the end of the week. She talked about Chanyeol, her plus-one for the wedding. She shared about how things are going and you’re genuinely happy to see her happy. You ended up leaving at seven. Julia offered to drive you home, but you kindly refused, saying you need to be alone for a short while.

“Okay, just let me know when you got home.” She smiled and of course, was enveloped in the warmest hug you’ve ever received recently.

Just like when you left home earlier, the sky was dark and gloomy as you wait at the bus stop. Raindrops began falling just minutes after you got on the bus. You sat on the farthest empty seat your eyes spotted. Watching the raindrop rolling on the glass window, you thought about Julia and everything she said.

Change.

You wondered if change can help your emotional burnout while leaning your head on the cold surface of the vehicle. Truthfully, working in the same hospital after the accident is difficult. The first day you returned after your month-long leave you found yourself stopping in your tracks at every spot your feet took you that night of the accident. You also don’t enjoy the pity glances or smiles you get from your colleagues who knew about the accident. There were times, someone would approach you and say something nice or motivational. You appreciate the effort but it’s making your work more of a reminder than a distraction for what happened.

You get off the bus with a new idea and even more uncertainties in mind. You still felt like a deflating balloon floating your way to get home. After your breakdown, you wonder how Taehyung would react. He seemed pretty quiet last night. The Taehyung you know would prefer talking with you to at least mend these issues. But now, you’re really just tired and would rather organize your thoughts alone.

And when you walked up your front porch, you stopped as you saw the lights on in the kitchen. He’s home early. You turned the knob, preparing yourself with any awkward tension that is always suffocating. Walking in, a delicious smell of flavor filled your nostrils. You’re not planning to say anything but then, he greeted you.

“Oh, hey…”

It was short but soft. His lips formed a small, tight smile. He was indeed cooking as he holds a wooden spatula and you can hear the crinkling sound in the pan. You noticed he is wearing a familiar apron and a headband, exposing his forehead, to avoid his jet-black hair in sticking on the sweaty corners of his forehead.

“Hey.” you greeted back, forcing a polite smile on your lips. “You’re home?”

Taehyung noted the lack of any emotion in your voice or even eyes. You just looked exhausted. But he replied, “Yeah, we kinda closed early. Sold out.”

He smiled again, hoping that maybe you would smile back at him. You didn’t. Instead, you zipped your lips. And there it is. The awkward silence took over--not only the kitchen—but the whole house. He looked at you and you looked at him. It didn’t even last a couple of seconds. You looked away again, scratching your eyebrow.

“I should probably go—”

“I’m making dinner. Maybe—"

You two broke off the silence at the same time. You waited for him to continue but his nod asked you to resume.

“Yeah, uhm, I should go to my room.” You mumbled, not meeting his eyes. You just can’t.

It’s Taehyung’s turn to scratch the back of his neck, “Uhm, I made dinner. I was wondering if we can eat together.”

You timidly shake your head, “I’m kinda full… I had pizza with Julia. But thank you for the offer though.”

You were about to leave, wanting to leave this room since you were having the hardest time breathing with the thick tension. But Taehyung called your name,

“I was hoping we can talk… about everything.”

You turned around, finally looking at him. Suddenly, his heartbeat was louder than anything else for him. He can already see the rejection on your face. Like you’re not in the mood for anything that had to do with him. But he wishes his deduction is wrong. On the flip side, you can see his fingers fiddling with the spatula as he said that.

You exhaled, “I can’t, Taehyung. I really had a long day. I’m sorry—”

“No, it’s okay. Don’t apologize. We can talk whenever you’re ready.” He awkwardly raised his hands for thumbs-up. He saw your worried eyes landing on the dish he cooked. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll store it when it cools down. You can microwave it later if you get hungry.”

A simple, worn-out nod was your only reply before leaving him alone. His smile slowly fades as he turned down his chin.

He waited. Patiently. The morning after that, he waited for you to leave for work before he does. He goes home before you do. He prepared breakfasts and dinners for you, but you always seemed to be running late going to work and exhausted when you get home. And the rainy season didn’t stop. Taehyung once offered to walk you at least to the bus stop when you had a graveyard shift. He’s glad you didn’t decline and walked side by side with him under the umbrella.

“You know, you don’t have to do any of this.” You murmured in the middle of that five-minute walk to the bus stop. You were just looking ahead as you resumed, “You’re not obligated to do anything with me.”

“I wanted to do this.” He replied, glancing at you, hoping that he will meet your eyes. But he didn’t.

You didn’t say anything anymore. Even when you got on the bus and he handed you the extra umbrella he brought. But he really did. Even though you two haven’t really done a lot of activities together, he liked doing things with you or for you.

Now it’s been days since you broke down, you two still haven’t talked about it. Jimin told him to be patient and give you time. But the more time he gives you, the more he felt like you were already slowly drifting away from him.

“Are you sure? We still have space for another passenger.”

Taehyung heard you from the living room as he pulled his small luggage out of his room. He wore a white collared button-down, with the sleeves folded before it reached his elbows, tucked in beige suit pants.

“Okay, Ju. See you there. Take care.”

Your smile fades as you ended the call. With every emotion washed out on your face, you glanced up at him. Your eyes simply scanned him from head to toe before you spoke, “Let’s go?”

Jisoo and Namjoon will be having their rehearsal and the following dinner in the same area as their wedding. It’s in the same event place as their wedding venue. The couple already prepared rooms for a few guests, so that you can stay overnight for the wedding tomorrow. You, Taehyung, and Jimin will be carpooling in a rented car, with Jimin taking the wheel for an almost two-hour drive straight to the dinner event.

“Be careful, it’s fragile.”

You teased Jimin as he helped you carry the wedding gift for your soon-to-be-wedded friends. Taehyung carried yours and his luggage to the car.

“I am careful.” Jimin scoffed.

“Oh, I apologize. I’m just worried. You do have small hands.” You jested that made Taehyung choke and laugh.

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” His best friend laughed dryly, squinting his eyes at you. “You two are bullies! It’s not that small.”

You chuckled once again before stopping when Taehyung opened the backseat door for you.

“Thanks.” You mumbled.

Taehyung sat on the passenger seat while Jimin took the wheel. In the first quarter of the ride, you still managed to join chit-chat. Jimin was the one who sparked up topics, which you were grateful for as you don’t know what would happen if it’s just you and Taehyung in this car. But as time went on, you yawned and slowly lost yourself to take a nap.

a/n: i'm thinking of updating/resetting the taglist for this series. kindly comment below if you still want to be tagged. thank you so much for your support <3

taglist rules

RESTARTING OVER AGAIN TAGLIST [closed] @halesandy @boohoobabe @hopeonysus @taffyteffy @pnlpbnl @arusio @rpkth @cinnamonruts @xyahrinx @betysotelo18 @sugaslittlekookies @doublebunv @dahliasbouqet @lust-kth @aria-grace-scott @milkteallday @hoodalmighty @kiwuki @http-fayeradise @daydreamiies @starlight-night0 @chaoticbisous @mageprincess7 @byunniebaekhyunnie @hiimnothing @koreanaestheticc @shin-ie @blancflms @jeonkoookiee @satorinnie @rjsmochii @yoonglesdoll @somewhereinthestarss @turnthepageandbeburnt @heyjiminnie @bri-mal @teddybeartaetae @kaal-ee @nikkiordonez12 @motivatedprocastinator @butterflieshee @iamkookiesforyou

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @miyukihoshi @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1

#bts angst #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts series #bts imagine #bts au #bts amnesia #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung au #taehyung amnesia #taehyung imagine #taehyung fanfic #restarting over again kth

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askinkiskarma · 2 years ago

Text

Pairings: Neteyam x (f)Avatar!Reader x Lo'ak

Word Count: 3.5k words

Warnings/notes: angst, mentions of death and mourning, cursing, mentions of smut

Synopsis: Neteyam's death leaves more than a few wounds behind, and you and Lo'ak must find a way to navigate the aftershocks together.

A/N: well, this hurt. i love this song, and as I was listening to it one day, this idea came to me, and so here it is. i would say enjoy besties, but i feel like that's just me rubbing salt in wound. as usual, can't wait to hear your thoughts and I appreciate every reblog, like, reply, follow etc. love you besties xx

I know you hear me when I cry, I try to hold it in the night

While you're sleepin' next to me, but it's your arms that I need this time

The tent was dead silent as you entered it, a tortured sigh and the sound of muffled sniffles you tried your best to stifle, the only thing that could be heard. You almost worried for Lo’ak as you made your way to your shared mat, as he was even more engulfed in deep slumber than he usually was, no snores or breaths discernible. You found yourself reaching for his mouth and nose just to check that he was indeed still alive, the sound of your own heartbeat deafening you, your palms already coated in an increasingly thick layer of sweat that you rubbed on your thighs, as the unpleasant thought burrowed through layers of your mind until it reached the front, until the flashbacks almost took over you.

When his breath coated your palm, you breathed a huge sigh of relief that woke your mate up, and the tears that didn’t even have time to dry from 20 minutes ago started pouring down your face again.

“Baby, what’s the matter?”

You didn’t know how to explain, and you knew you couldn’t even reasonably begin to try without telling him where you were, where you went every night after you were sure he was fast asleep.

“Nothing, just had a nightmare.”

Lo’ak sighed and opened his arms for you to fall into, and you did, clinging to him like he was your life support, and to be honest with yourself, at this moment in your life, he probably was.

“Another one, baby?”

You felt the hole in your heart bleeding inside your chest, pooling blood in the pit your felt in your stomach, where it’s been bleeding for months, where it wouldn’t stop, not until it filled you up and spilled around you.

“… yeah. Another one.”

Look at the cards that we've been dealt

If you were anybody else, probably wouldn't last a day

Every tear's a rain parade from hell

You loved Lo’ak. You had no words to describe how much Lo’ak meant to you, how much he has meant to you your whole life, ever since you were just a 5-fingered freak and a tiny human finding happiness and meaning in this life that seemed to clobber the both of you to the ground whenever it had the chance. You have been best friends since you were born, and you didn’t think that was ever going to change. You were grateful for him, and his presence in your life, that saved you, both literally and figuratively, multiple times throughout your 19 years of life. You were grateful for his heart, that sometimes felt like it was too big to reasonably ever fit inside his body, and his mind, that somehow never tired finding new ways to make you smile, and his own smile, that shone brighter to you right now than any star in the sky, than even the sun itself as it was engulfed by Polyphemus before Eclipse. You were grateful that he chose you as a mate, and grateful to know that, in light of everything, there was now no one else in the world you would rather embark on this life-long journey with, no one else who could even begin to understand the fucked-up mess that was your mind - partly because you and him shared in that, you shared the pain and the grief, and you were forced to navigate it together.

You felt sleep slowly engulfing you, and you knew the nightmares wouldn’t be far behind.

Though I wish he were here instead, don't want that living in your head

He just comes to visit me when I'm dreaming every now and then

Nightmares became not only expected, but almost desired in your life, as even in nightmares, even in the worst nightmares your mind could ever possibly conjure up, at least he was still there. He was there, here, in your life, and when you touched him, and you felt him, and you heard him, it felt real, it felt better than any reality. Even the nightmares where you relieved the worst day of your life, over and over, like a twisted comic joke, still brought you some sort of sick post-hoc comfort, until the morning came, or until the dream ends, and the arms that are wrapped around you aren’t the ones you need.

The ones you needed, you left behind just a little less than an hour before, and despite it just being a vision, a metaphysical experience that would never manifest itself in the real world anymore, his warmth still lingered on your skin, his scent still flooded your nostrils, his eyes were still ever-present in front of your own, even with them tightly shut. You could feel him, like he was still here, like he used to be when you were still you and he was still him, and he was still here and he was still yours.

“Yawne, I think we should do it. I think we should tell everyone, it’s time.” Your new blue body seemed to fit perfectly in Neteyam’s, a dream come true, it seemed, a gift from Eywa herself. To be able to be here, in this meadow, at this time, tall and supple and cerulean-skinned, without a mask to hinder you, with finally nothing in between you and the boy you’ve been in love with longer than you could remember. You received an Avatar as a present on your 18th birthday, and you’ve wanted nothing more than to spend every second of your new life with the person you could now freely be with, no biological, or physical barriers in the way, the person that occupied every thought in your mind and has explored every inch of your body, and it still didn’t feel enough. Never enough.

“Tell them what, Teyam?” Neteyam rolled his eyes, and you smiled at the way he knew you were just making him say it out loud, because you enjoyed how the words rolled off his tongue. He’s always had an accent speaking English, just like you did when speaking Na’vi, and you found it hotter than the pits of hell, which is where you felt like you were headed sometimes when you played these kinds of games with your beloved.

“Must you always do this?” You chuckled slightly against his chest, and you tried not to focus on how the intimacy and feeling his naked body against yours, powerful and muscular was making you slightly dizzy. You will never get enough of this, and you couldn’t believe you would never have to.

“You’re stuck with me now, you can’t reconsider after so many years, especially now that I have an Avatar.” He pulls your closer to him, which you thought was physically impossible, but he loved nothing more than to prove you wrong. The kiss on your forehead was so normal and habitual for him, for you both, and yet it didn’t stop the goosebumps travelling down your neck, or the butterflies in your stomach, or the scrambling of your thoughts.

“I wouldn’t want to reconsider, yawne. Which brings me back to what I was saying.” You sighed, allowing yourself the chance to clear your mind of the bad feelings plaguing you, of the unshakable perspective that this wouldn’t go down well, or be accepted, or even tolerated in the clan.

You were a Sky Person, an alien. Even though you grew up with the Na’vi, that simple fact, unmovable and completely beyond your control, never changed. And even now, even in this body, the stares never stopped, and neither did the incessant chatter, about how you were still a demon, still wrong, still not fit to be around the Olo’eyktan’s children. Neytiri and Mo’at warmed up to you in time, but you knew that it was not nearly enough to matter, not enough for them to willingly accept you as Tsa’hik, which is what Neteyam wanted to make you by announcing it to everyone.

A tender, slender finger on your chin and the slightest pressure lifting you face to meet his pulled you out of your reverie and his warm smile and intense gaze drowned out any fear immediately. It was a gift of his - and a curse for you, because you could very rarely think rationally when he looked at you like that.

“I want to tell them. I’ve loved you for what feels like my whole life. And now I get this gift, this incredible gift, and I get to know that you will be mine forever, that we can mate before Eywa, that I get to feel tsaheylu with the only woman I’ve ever wanted to feel it with.”

It felt surreal to you, almost like a dream, this love. This love that felt so good, that was almost too good to be true, and you wondered sometimes, fear overtaking your mind, as it always did, what would be the price you’d have to pay to balance it out. He always told you that - that nature has a balance, that life has a balance. That Eywa makes sure to reinforce that balance. Well, you were so happy, it felt like the world was pink and fluffy and weightless, and it was yours to take and he was yours to love and nothing else mattered, as long you had him. So what would be the price to pay?

“I want to do this right, my love. I want to prove myself to your family, to your mother and to the Tsa’hik. I want to learn, I want to earn my place among the people. I want to take my Iknimaya. Once I do, we can tell them, and you can do whatever you want to me, and that’s a lifelong promise, Neteyam.”

Neteyam. Neteyam. Neteyam.

Baby, you do it so well

You been so understanding, you been so good

And I'm puttin' you through more than one ever should

And I'm hating myself 'cause you don't want to

Admit that it hurts you

“Wake up, baby… come on.” Lo’ak’s voice drowned out the wails you didn’t even realise you were letting out until it was too late to stop them, too late to pretend they were anything else but what they were.

“It’s me, ok? You’re alright. You’re safe.”

“Lo’ak…”

You loved Lo’ak. So much. And the hatred you felt for yourself every time he had to pull you out of a nightmare about his brother, every time you found yourself wishing it was him instead, every time you wondered how your life would have turned out if Neteyam never left you, it ate at your soul, gnawing at the already bleeding edges of the hole in your chest. He deserved better, you know he did. And yet he stayed, and he loved you, because despite everything, you both knew there was no one else, not for either of you. The trauma bonded you, it made sure you were made for each other, like two pieces of a messed up puzzle.

As ironic as that sounds, maybe that’s why you never mated before Eywa. Because of the past, and the trauma, because in truth, despite not saying it out loud, it scared the shit out of both of you. Because you both knew deep down that there are things you can’t recover from and some truths better left unspoken, and feeling each other’s emotions and desires, your deepest fears and fantasies, at least right now, would be the one step too many, one step in the wrong direction, one step off a cliff.

“You went to see him, didn’t you?” You felt heat rise in your cheeks at being caught red-handed. All you managed was a meek nod.

“You always have nightmares when you see him.” There was a heavy silence that enveloped the room, but eventually, Lo’ak sighed and continued. “…How is he?”

It was your turn to sigh.

“He’s good. He’s… Neteyam. He misses you. He talks about you all the time, wonders why he hasn’t seen you in a while.”

Lo’ak’s frown was visible even under the cover of darkness, and you knew you should drop it, but you couldn’t - not when you knew he’d regret it, he’d hate himself even more than he already does if he doesn’t find a way to be there for his brother, to see him, to allow himself a way to move on from the guilt that plagues him everyday.

“I will. Just been busy with training, with strategising meetings, with my dad. But I will.” You didn’t tell him how you knew he was lying since you saw Jake there almost every time you went, and even if you didn’t, Neteyam told you about how often his dad came by and all the little chats they have.

“Ok. You know best. I just think you should go before it’s too late.” Lo’ak scoffed, annoyed with you as he rose, legs crossed in front of him, a hard expression on his face.

“Too late for what?! It’s already too fucking late.”

“Too late to say you’re sorry.”

The flickers of light peering through the weaves of your tent reflected in his eyes as the tears flooded them, and you felt so sad for Lo’ak, and so sad for yourself, so sad for all the pain that didn't seem like it would ever be healed.

“He doesn’t fucking remember anything anyway. How am I supposed to apologise to him if he doesn’t even remember what happened? What’s even the point of it all?”

His tears hit your skin as he shook his head and let them out, and you reached for his face, brushing what was left of them with your thumb.

“You could still apologise. Not because he would remember, but because you need to. Because the guilt will kill you if you don’t. Because he’s your brother, and he loves you, and he misses you. Because you miss him too. Because this way, the last memory you have of him doesn’t have to haunt you forever.”

“It should haunt me forever. I ruined everything. His life, my family’s life… your life. I’m not an idiot. I know you loved him, and he loved you. I know if you had a choice, it would have been him.”

I know that it breaks your heart when I cry again over him,

I know that it breaks your heart when I cry again intead of ghostin' him

Lo'ak's words shocked you. You never got the chance to tell his family, or the clan, in the end. You never got the chance to make him yours, and he never got the chance to feel the mating bond, the one thing he wanted to so badly. He never got the chance to be a father to your children, the way you used to dream about together, he never got the chance to raise a family with all the lessons he had learnt from his own parents growing up. He would never enter your bedroom again, banging his head against the frame of the door that was way too tiny for his 9 foot tall body, smiling as he always did when he spotted you reading by the foot of the bed. You would never get the chance to teach him a new English slang you learnt from a show, or play him a song you learnt on guitar, or allow him to rest his head on your lap, watching as his tail moved erratically in a display of pure, incandescent happiness. Your Iknimaya came and went, and he wasn’t there to witness it, or cheer you on, and you would never get to fly together on your ikran, never get the chance to share so many moments you reserved just for him, that you now had to live without, that you now had to wish away into the ether, and let it go, alongside your dreams and hopes, alongside the future you always wanted and you will never be able to have.

All you had were glimpses, flashes of light in the dark, whenever you saw him in visions the tree blessed you with, where he was still there, and he was still him and you were still you, where you still had him and your life was still alright, if only for a little while.

“I can’t wait for your ceremony, you know?” Your back was flush against his chest, and you loved the warmth that irradiated off of it. it felt so real, just like it used to when it was real. He has always been your own personal sun, something you made sure to tell him as often as you could, and you couldn’t help wonder if this is why your body’s been cold since he left. Like the actual sun could never achieve what he did, like no other body could, like nothing could. You hummed mindlessly, allowing the breeze to touch your skin, just like his kisses up and down your neck did. In here, he didn’t know that he died. He would never know. In here, everything was all right, everything was serene and calm, everything was just the way it should be. The last time he visited the tree was a happy time, and you were so happy that was the last thing he remembers, the last thing he always would. He would never had to know the pain of death again, and knowing his smile would be forever captured in here, just like his spirit that was evergreen and so, so beautiful was, it was the only thing that allowed you to go on. As long as he was alright, and he was happy, you could still sleep at night.

“Is it just because we finally get to have sex in front of the Tree of Souls or…?” You said with a chuckle and his lips detached from your neck, and you could just about picture his frown, just about picture the roll of his eyes and the little pout he always had on whenever you said something that was so widely outrageous in his mind.

“Yawne…”

“I’m kidding, jeez! I can’t wait either. I can’t wait to be yours forever.” At least in here, you could always pretend. In here, you could, for a little while, entertain a fantasy, allow it to pass through you, allow yourself the happiness you’ll never know again. He tightened his grip on you and you felt his breath on your hair and a small kiss at the top of your head.

“You’re already mine forever. You’ll always be mine, and I’ll always be yours.”

You couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down your cheeks on onto his arms, or the words that followed. “I’ll always be yours, and you’ll always be mine.”

We'll get through this, we'll get past this, I'm a girl with a whole lot of baggage

But I love you, we'll get past this, I'm a girl with a whole lot of baggage

It was your turn to console Lo’ak as he was crying with his head in his hands, and knowing the pain he must be going through, the pain in which you shared, it struck a chord in you that seemed to wake you up a little, that allowed you out of your constant dreams and nightmares, of your visions and forsaken desires and focus on him, and watch him, and see him.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted, ok? I know that it’s not your ideal scenario and I’m sorry. I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know that it’s my fault you and Neteyam will never get to be together. It kills me, the pain and the guilt, it eats at me every day and I -“ you shut him up with a kiss, that felt warm and needed, that promised to at least try to mend some wounds in your soul.

“Stop. You know it’s not your fault. And if you don’t, then that’s why I’m here. To show you. And reassure you that I love you, and that Neteyam loved you, and neither of us would ever blame you. I’m here to keep you sane, just like you’re here to keep me sane. And it’s fucked up, and it’s weird sometimes and the guilt I feel is just as strong as the one you feel, but we’ll make this work. Because I love you. Ok?”

You loved Lo’ak. And you knew he loved you, too. And while it wasn’t how you imaged your life to turn out, you knew your happiness had always been Neteyam’s priority. And at least for him, you’d try to find at least the shadow of it again, and you knew the best place to look for it was in your new mate’s light.

taglist: @fanboyluvr

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moderndaypandora · 2 years ago

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Got tagged by @notallsandmen for a WIP paragraph game, and I’m incredibly flattered, considering ... this doesn’t feel on the level of fic, this is fun little sketches of dialogue at most. But this is what I had, so here’s more of the mortal dreamling silliness (previous bits: modern day mortal dreamling and newlyweds with ravens)

How Hob asked Johanna to be his witness for his wedding:

He texted her asking if she was free that afternoon, because he needed her for something. Historically "something" has meant anything from "taste-testing 3 different scone recipe variations to figure out the best one" to "hustling drunk pricks at darts". Likewise, Hob has done her favors ranging from picking up tampons to providing an alibi. In theory there is a ledger of favors owed, but in reality there will never be a balancing of books (because they're best friends, even if Johanna is too prickly to admit it and Hob is too smart to).

Johanna texted back "yeah, what's up?", and practically broke a land speed record pressing "Call" when she got the response.

Johanna: what the fuck kind of text exchange is confirming I'm around and then sending "getting married today, hello, witness!" and a selfie of you and some goth twink?

Hob: it felt pretty self-explanatory

Johanna: last I'd checked, you weren't even seeing anybody!

Hob: things change?

Johanna: I got dinner with you 5 weeks ago, you bastard, and you were single then.

Hob: ... things change fast?

Johanna: how the fuck did you even meet him?

Hob: I was running back from class during that awful rainstorm last month, and he was just outside my tube station.

Johanna: Hob.

Hob: His umbrella'd broken and he was soaking wet, and he looked absolutely miserable, poor darling.

Johanna: ...

Hob: So I offered him towels and dry clothes, since my flat was just up the road. And by the time the rain stopped I knew I wanted to marry him, and he said yes.

Johanna: what lunatic just follows strange men home?

Hob: he was pretty suspicious until I gave him my phone so he could text my address to his sister.

Johanna: and she was somehow fine with it, like 'yeah, go on'? 

Hob:

Hob: he got a bit distracted by my phone background and never actually texted her.

Johanna: the fuck

Hob: you know Julian of Norwich is gorgeous

Johanna: your cat is a lesser demon escaped from hell. I'm going to exorcise your cat someday

Hob: Jules is a sweetheart. She doesn't even hunt birds!

Johanna: That thing won't kill any of the bloody birds in your neighborhood because she's saving all her energy to someday murder me and you know it.

Hob: ... undeserved paranoia about my extremely photogenic cat aside --

Johanna: WELL-deserved!

Hob: --will you be my witness?

Johanna: Left it a bit late, if you're asking me today. Did everybody else say no?

Hob: Didn't ask anybody else. Been planning to ask you since Dream said yes, but I figured if I gave you too much notice you'd flee the country.

Johanna: [tearing up, because even if you're an independent badass, it's nice to hear you're somebody's person] you're fucking right I would.

(Johanna's custom ringtone on Hob's phone is from Sweeney Todd, the final verse in Johanna where you can hear the body drop ("Wake up, Johanna, another bright red day"), because Hob and Johanna are black-hearted bastards/absolutely in cahoots with each other and think it’s funny. Hob's ringtone is Being Alive from Company ("Somebody need me too much..."). Sondheim all the way, motherfuckers)

#dreamling #hob is a medievalist and he would name his cat after an anchoress #i don't make the rules except when i do #johanna: wtf do i even wear to be a witness #hob: idk nothing obviously bloody or stained?#johanna: mm. what are you wearing?#hob: khakis and a button up #johanna: not the high-waisted ones right?#hob: there is nothing wrong with them #johanna: you're going to look like the slutty professor wannabe you are #johanna: and i bet you're going to roll your sleeves up #hob mid-sleeve roll: can't i look nice for my future husband?#johanna: yeah nice. not Mr April from an Academia Gone Wild calendar #hob: ... how am i supposed to take that #johanna: as a suggestion to look like a respectable spousal candidate #hob: we got engaged on less than 24 hours' acquaintance #hob: there is no chance of respectability #johanna: jesus fucking christ #johanna: you're paying for all my drinks at the reception #hob: by reception do you mean at the pub afterwards #johanna: clearly you prick. and it's going to be decent liquor. none of that bottom shelf swill #hob: we are celebrating my marriage afterall #johanna: [groaning] text me the address and don't give me any shit when i show up with a flask #johanna: you absolute bastard #hob: <3 #dream is 'sir not appearing in this sketch' because he had to go back to his flat and get his own appropriate clothing #and also provide proof of life and zero mental impairment to death #because she was still hoping it was a joke/she could talk him around to waiting longer

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dimalry · 14 days ago

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Previous anon here 🙋🏼‍♀️

And yes I agree. Sjm did not handle it very well since people have been fighting each other for over a year now and I believe people can have different opinions on it. I accept that people can see the situation in different ways because of how it was handled and/or from the bits they remember since most of us haven't read the books in a while 😅. I too haven't read them in a long time but from what I remember I didn't see it as SA or know all the details of what happened. And there are a lot of very similar debates happening in the fandom and there aren't any new ones, just a repeat of the same arguments people used one month ago, I guess this is a way to keep the fandom alive since we haven't been given anything?? But idk lol. I just keep to myself most of the time when I see someone having a different opinion as me and just continue with the things I enjoy.

Because of the way she handles certain topics, he have people arguing over who‘s right constantly. It’s actually so interesting how everyone has their own Interpretation of the text. There’s some beauty that comes with that, but people rather want everyone to think like them and that leads to this wildness in the fandom. When you have someone getting so triggered over your opinions, not only do they attack you but they create 5 more posts talking trash about you, that’s how you know the fandom is WILD 💀

When Rhys was first introduced I shipped Feysand right away (I thought Feylin was cute but I love me some morally grey characters). Things started to become.. weird when I arrived at the utm scenes and they made me uncomfortable. I didn’t think much of it when I finished the book because I thought we‘re going to get an epic redemption arc. We didn’t. Though I still loved Acomaf, I was fairly disappointed with how it was handled. My second time reading the books it only frustrated me. I really wanted to see some good redemption arc from a morally grey character, but it turned out that he isn’t morally grey in the first place and that isn’t a trope that I particularly like 😬I like Feysand and they’re fun to draw (I have most of them still in my drafts). I sometimes think of how I would‘ve written the story. Especially after Under the Mountain, that’s when I imagine what route Feyre and Feysand together would take. I took some inspiration from the atla world (I‘m so excited to draw and share my thoughts on this when I get the time 🥹), and Rhys In my imagination is definitely held accountable (no character is safe from accountability, even my favs)

You’re one of the great people who can bring a safe space in the fandom. Minding your own business and enjoying life is very mature ✨

#feysand #acotar #sweet anon #my asks

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reiline · 1 year ago

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My Sole Survivor Daniella (Dani), I wanted to draw her long ago

Several random headcanons:

1)At the beginning of the main events she’s 25 y.o.

2) She got the scar on her face from the deathclaw cub. Even babies can tear skin to flesh with their claws, but Dani managed to dodge at the last moment, so the cut didn’t come out very deep

(she has a few other small scars and moles on her body, but I forgot to add them at the end)

3) Piper once gave Dani a handmade "lucky" cap, like a talisman as a gift for her friend. Once, at the time of the transaction with one of the unpleasant and rude merchants, Dani didn’t notice the fake cap mixed with the rest, and paid as it was. In general, the merchant caught her cheating, and the situation could have gotten out of control if not for the presence of Hancock at her side. As soon as he silently demonstrated his shotgun, the merchant immediately chickened out and accepted an apology and a real cap from Dani, who tries to avoid conflicts whenever possible

4) Dani had an older brother who lived in Washington with his family. Even if he managed to survive and get to the vault, he was hardly put into cryogenic sleep, so at best he died of natural causes, and Dani would never learn of his fate

5) Like many before the war, Dani married not for love, but because it was so accepted. She was quite lucky: her husband was a handsome, decent military man who sincerely loved her, supported her and, most importantly, didn’t put pressure on her or try to force her to love him. After the birth of her son, she even began to feel something more than a simple affection for him, but they weren’t destined to take their relationship to the next level when nuclear war broke out

6) Dani is very beautiful. Even after weeks and months of living in new realities, her ability to love and sympathize with others never faded, and the scars didn’t spoil her in any way and only added zest. There were downsides to this, and Dani repeatedly fought back against those unable to keep their household in their pants, but so far she’d been saved by natural luck and her favorite gun

7) The Institute is destroyed. Dani left synth!Shaun alive, but refused to be his guardian/mother/whatever. For several weeks the boy lived in the Railroad headquarters, but one day Desdemona informed Dani that Shaun had left, possibly outside of Boston. For a while, Dani worried about him and wished she’d tried to take him in or shelter him in one of the settlements, but soon she came to terms with it, and she would never see Shaun again

Music theme: 🎶 Massive Attack - Teardrop I don't have as many ideas for Fallout 4 as for Mass Effect, and I don't have my own OCs within the universe, but perhaps I will sometimes sketch for it too ;)

#fallout 4 #sole survivor #fanart #game art #artist #digital art #illustration #artwork

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percywinchester27 · 1 year ago

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*Waves nervously* Hey, guys! It’s me... back again :)

Firstly, thank you so much for the kind messages. You folks are some of the sweetest peeps around, no kidding. I actually did make a long post explaining everything about a month back, but tumblr being tumblr glitched and the post was lost forever to the tumblr abys when I hit ‘post.’ I didn’t have it in me then to rewrite the whole thing. The gist of it is:

1. My grandmother passed away (That bit everyone knows because it was the last post I made)

2. Two days after that, I decided to mess up my life even more and end a ten-year-old kind-of relationship. People who have been following me for a while now would know about it.

3. College life got really, really hard all of a sudden. The academic pressure, unnecessarily severe HOD and crushing work burden basically left me with no time to write or be here.

4. This was my first time living by myself in a new city and I have no shame in admitting that I underestimated how much effort it is to keep yourself alive, pay the rent by yourself and adjust to living in a whole new city.

5. I got sick in the middle. Really sick. Lost 12 pounds kind of sick. It sucked.

Long story short, I feel like a different person from the one who posted the last chapter of ‘The New Mrs. Winchester.’ The girl who envisioned the story had fallen out of love long ago and clung to the series by making it a coping mechanism, to continue living in denial, afraid to spit out the words that would end the relationship. The reader in the series had a man who understood her trauma, and treated her the way she needed to be treated... and I didn’t have that in real life. The series had become an escape of sorts. But the more I wrote it, the more resentful I felt for what the reader had and what I didn’t. That’s never good, right? Starting to envy your own creation?

Then my grandmother passed. And you know that reckless self-destructive urge to wreck everything when even one thing goes wrong? Yeah, that’s what made me pick up the phone and end it. I did it by text because my voice wouldn’t hold and I couldn’t stop crying. I think I cried for hours in my tiny room. Then the next day I had to leave for a study trip so I didn’t even have the support of my friends... no shoulder to cry on. Back then, I thought I deserved to feel the pain, deserved to be alone and deal with it myself because I was hurting a good soul. It was a dark time. Everything seemed to be falling apart.

In the end, he was quite nice about it, and we ended it like two mature people with nothing but best wishes for one another. I hope he is happy in the country he wants to make his home.

It’s been five months since. I am doing so much better now. I have adjusted to the losses and recovered about ten pounds ;) I’ve also started seeing someone new. He’s very good to me :)

For the summer months, I’m back home. Agreed there’s a 45 hours a week internship, but I don’t have to fend for myself day in and day out. So, while there are no promises... I’ll do my best to get back to writing! I am hoping to get some of my writing inspiration back... So fingers crossed? ;)

If you’ve stuck around till here.... once again, thank you for not ditching my ass in the five months of radio silence. You guys are truly something.

Love always!

-Ana xoxo

#personal #hiatus end hopefully?#thank you so much for sticking around #y'all are awesome #about me

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atlasalexanderwrites · 1 year ago

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Welcome Home Baby Brother Pt. 2 (a Queen!Reader x Malcolm Merlyn verse One Shot....PT. 7)

IMAGINE...being the eldest child to Robert Queen, (Being in a relationship with Malcolm Merlyn,) and having dinner for the first time since your baby brother, Oliver, came back from the dead after five, long years.

Word Count: 2,437

Warning: Possible out-of-character canon characters! Spoilers for any readers who haven’t watched Arrow (I guess lol)

A/N: I hope you all enjoy it!

Previous Parts - 1 2 3 4 5 6

“So, do you plan on telling him about you and Mr. Merlyn?” The question from Thea as the two of you were seated in her room waiting for Oliver to get out of the shower and for dinner to be ready made you flinch and look up from your cell where you had been attempting to do some work for Queen Consolidated while you waited.

You knew that it was going to be brought up, but you had hoped that it would wait until tomorrow.

No. You had no intention of telling Oliver about you and Malcolm. Not only was it something you didn’t know how to bring up, but it was also something that maybe your baby brother didn’t need to know about just yet.

Your gaze fell to your left hand where the diamond ring sat. Malcolm had proposed only a few months earlier during a three-week business trip in France for a joint Queen Consolidated and Merlyn Global business deal. Since then, neither of you had spoken about setting a date or anything to do with a wedding ceremony. A part of you was nervous to bring it up; you didn’t want to make Malcolm feel pressured and didn’t want to somehow, accidentally, bring up memories that would sadden him or anger him by reminding him of Tommy’s mother. The other part of you was nervous to bring it up to Malcolm because…because you weren’t sure you wanted to be married to Malcolm Merlyn. Not right now. Not with Oliver being alive and home and all those suspicions about Malcolm being involved with the Gambit bringing up not anger but dread.

You couldn’t imagine what would happen if that box got opened. You weren’t sure you wanted an answer to whether Malcolm had a hand in your family’s yacht going down.

“Oliver doesn’t need to know about my love life, Thea. There is no reason he needs to be told. Besides, it is probably best that we don’t overwhelm him too much. It’s like…how Mom wants to not bother Oliver with her and Walter just yet. Oliver needs time to settle and adjust. No doubt, he’s hardly at any time to mourn dad or…or even Sara.”

Thea nodded as you spoke and then rolled her eyes saying, “So, you’re scared to tell him?”

“Terrified.”

How could you not be?

Oliver from five years ago had been an asshole, but he still tried to fight every boyfriend you had ever had.

The last thing you needed was Oliver trying to fight Malcolm the moment he got back to Starling City, not to mention the awkwardness that could pop up between Oliver and Tommy as a result.

Sighing, you stood and brushed a hand through your hair while saying, “Look, I promise that I will tell Oliver, but for tonight lets keep that between us.”

“Us and Tommy, mom and Walter, Raisa, most of Starling City, and…” Thea continued as the two of you walked out from her room and headed downstairs.

She wasn’t wrong. Too many people knew and too many people could let it slip to your brother. But if you were being honest, your biggest concern was Moira. She hadn’t budged even a little on her dissatisfaction toward your relationship with Malcolm, and Moira took every opportunity she could find to try and keep the two of you apart. Even with you now living in Malcolm’s home.

It had been amusing at first, then weird, and then frustrating. It was like there was something she was trying to tell you without telling you.

Like Moira knew something about Malcolm she wanted you to know but couldn’t bring herself to spell it out.

“Tommy!” Thea grinned as she bounded down the last few steps and practically skipped over to where Tommy and Oliver stood, reconnecting in the entryway.

You met the gaze of your brother’s best friend (who just happened to be your fiancé’s son as well) and forced an awkward smile as Tommy greeted Thea. The two of you were on good enough terms, but you also knew each other’s secrets – secrets that neither of you wanted Oliver to know about just yet. It made the situation uncomfortable, and you were kicking yourself for not having spoken openly about it with Tommy before this dinner.

“Well, this is a sight that I have missed.” You finally spoke up, plastering a smile on your lips as you closed the gap between yourself and the others. “And to think Starling City was only just beginning to heal from the terror of Oliver Queen and Thomas Merlyn.”

Most of Starling City probably didn’t care that Oliver had returned. Those who were excited were, of course, your family and Oliver’s party friends.

Still, the thought of having Oliver home meant that there was a chance for some semblance of the familiar. As close to the “good old times” that you could get to with your dad being gone.

“We will try not to do anything too crazy.” Oliver smiled. His voice soft. He sounded sincere, like he truly had zero intention of being his old self, and his eyes held a softness that younger Oliver would have never shown – it would have ruined his party boy persona.

“Make sure you don’t.” you laughed as Risa stepped into the hall announcing that dinner was about to be served.

Thea snorted, “Let’s not keep mom waiting.”

Oliver chuckled at your sister’s attitude and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, teasing Thea about “Making mom happy” as they followed after Risa.

You couldn’t help but chuckle knowing that your stepmother or Walter had sent Risa to “collect” the four of you; no doubt, Moira was having flashbacks from your childhood to when you, Oliver, and Thea would get so caught up in something the three of you had chosen to do together that it would take your father coming home and being “stern” for the three of you to finally come back to reality.

The thought was bittersweet, but you didn’t mind it. You appreciated that you could remember things like that. Over the past five years, there had been plenty of days where memories of your brother and father had been the only thing that helped you get out of bed and get on with your life.

“Hey Y/n,” Tommy hissed, grabbing your arm, and stopping you from following after your brother and sister. He waited for the two of them to be out of earshot before saying, “Listen I just…wanted to make sure we were on the same page about…things. Like, what gets told to Oliver and what can be saved for some other time.”

You knew what he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with you and Malcolm.

It was kind of sweet that Tommy was so concerned about telling Oliver certain things because he wasn’t sure how his lifelong friend would react. It spoke volumes on how much Tommy respected and cherished his friendship with your baby brother.

You whispered his name and offered a small smile as your gaze slipped to your left hand and the diamond engagement ring that sat there. The smart thing would be to remove the ring altogether. After all, if Oliver didn’t see the ring, then he couldn’t ask about it, but you didn’t want to give the impression that you were ashamed of Malcolm and that you wanted to hide your relationship with him.

“I promise that I won’t say anything to Oliver about what you’ve been up to the last five years as long as you don’t say anything about me and your father. I just...I haven’t figured out how to tell Oliver about us yet.”

Tommy stared at you for a long moment, taking in what you had said, and then breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. “Alright, alright. Thank you, Y/n. I…thank you.”

“Any time, Tommy.” And you moved into the dining room to join the others.

While Tommy and Thea sat to either side of Oliver, you chose to sit across from Walter placing Moira (and Oliver) at the head of the table. You didn’t mind as it gave you a chance to speak softly to your stepmother and Walter about Queen Consolidated and it gave Thea the chance to soak up as much of Oliver’s attention and closeness as she desired. Thea needed that. She had been only thirteen when the Gambit went down – life was hard enough for Thea with being in her early teens, the loss of your father and brother hadn’t helped things at all.

Besides, you would have plenty of time to catch up with Oliver.

It isn’t like he’s going anywhere any time soon.

“…I was hoping to swing by the office.” Oliver’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you quickly snapped your full attention in his direction.

“Queen Consolidated?” you laughed, interrupting whatever Walter had been saying as a response to your brother. “You want to go to…how hard did you hit your head while on that island?” you teased while lifting your glass of wine to your lips.

“I had a lot of time to think while I was away.” Oliver smiled, although it didn’t reach his eyes. “I need something to do with my time, and I was thinking, why not make that something the family business?” his blue eyes looked from you to your mother and then back on you, “Unless this is your way of saying you want the company all to yourself?”

“Shut up, brat.” You laughed with a playful roll of your eyes, “I think it’s a brilliant idea for you to have a hand in Queen Consolidated. Dad would want it.”

“Then it’s settled.” Moira was beaming, clearly happy that Oliver had matured enough to show an interest in your family’s business.

You were proud of Oliver as well, but you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly had motivated your baby brother to want to take an active role in Queen Consolidated. Surely, most people who came back from the dead would want to take some time to rest and readjust to life. But Oliver didn’t seem to want to do that.

Actually, that look on his face…it’s determination. He’s home and he has a list of things he plans to do.

But what?

What has happened to you, Olive?

When you were younger, the thing you feared the most was that your baby brother and sister would hate you. That they would grow up and realize how lame you were, and they would then want nothing to do with you.

That morning when you got that call that the Queen’s Gambit had gone down, that your father and brother were lost at sea and presumed dead, you felt so silly for your childhood fears. You knew then that the worst thing imaginable was having those you loved ripped away from you in a moment, in the blink of an eye, without warning.

And now, standing outside with Oliver and avoiding going home to an empty house, you felt that fear in your stomach. Like this was all a dream and that you would wake up, having imagined Oliver being alive, and you would be back in that cold, dark world where your baby brother was gone. Taken from you by fate? A tragic accident at sea? Or…at the hands of unknown enemies.

“So,” Oliver sighed, turning to you with a smile, “When do I get to meet the person who gave you that?” he gestured toward crossed arms, at your engagement ring.

“The wedding?” you shrugged, trying to play it cool at first as you looked anywhere but at him. “It…the engagement is actually pretty new. We don’t have a set date yet.”

“Does mom disapprove?” Oliver asked the question softly, his gaze locked on you so tenderly.

You snorted, “Of course she does. Mom…doesn’t think he’s good enough or me. Which is crazy because he’s a businessman, he’s very successful, and his company actually has a lot of dealings with Queen Consolidated.” Your amusement turned to frustration as you spoke, frowning at your own words and the reminder that Moira could pop off and spill the beans about you and Malcolm at any moment.

“Do I know him?”

Your cheeks flushed at his question, and you found yourself chewing on your bottom lip instead of answering.

Humming, Oliver nodded and leaned toward you, placing a kiss to the side of your head as a sleek, black limo pulled up. “I know that I don’t have to worry about you, Y/n. You’re the smartest out of us all. If you’re sure enough about this guy to marry him, then I will trust you and try to wait patiently for you to introduce me to him.”

“Ollie.” You murmured, eyes filling with tears as you wrapped your arms around him, tucking your face into his shoulder as he returned the hug. “I fucking missed you, Oliver.”

He nodded in agreement, saying “I missed you too, Y/n.”

It took all you had to pull away from him, and it was only after the two of you had agreed to see each other again tomorrow that you finally forced yourself to move away from your baby brother and walk to the limo and Malcolm’s driver.

“Jude.” You nodded, refusing to show your surprise as you stepped past him.

“Miss Queen.” He greeted you with a tilt of his head and a small smile.

Smiling in return, you waved goodbye to Oliver once more before climbing into the limo and letting the door shut behind you.

It was only after you were off your family’s property and Oliver was out of sight that you looked beside you at the man who was supposed to be overseas.

“Darling.” Malcolm hummed, his lips turning upward into that ridiculously charming, crooked smile of his.

“You said…”

Leaning toward you, Malcolm placed a kiss to your lips while murmuring, “You needed me here more.”

Tears prickling in the corner of your eyes, you forced a breathless laugh and pulled away, settling back into the seat. “Thank you, Malcolm.”

“Of course.” He took your hand, placing a kiss to your knuckles, and set it in his lap – seemingly mindlessly playing with the band on your ring finger as he turned to stare out the window, watching the world fly by.

Content and exhausted from the day, you rested your head on his shoulder and let yourself drift off to sleep listening to whatever jazz number Malcolm had chosen for the drive.

I hope you all enjoyed it! And I hope you’re all a sucker for sister!reader x Oliver content as I am lol (Oliver being a brother is so lovely to me 😉 )

The next installment will be reader x Malcolm! Probably a gentle day for them! It won’t be out in the next two weeks as I have other one shots (non-Arrowverse) that I want to finish writing/editing/etcetera.

As always, if you want to show some love, feel free to sent me things through my inbox and I also have a Kofi if you would like to support me in that way!

Please be safe and I hope you are having a good day!

~Atlex Writes!

#imagine #imagines #one shot #reader insert #arrow #queen reader x malcolm series #queen reader #arrow one shot #arrow imagines #arrow imagine #arrowverse

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