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bubblegumfanfictions · 4 years ago

Text

Falling in Love again.

Fandom- Bleach

Ships- Kisuke Urahara x Reader

Warnings- Some language, Implied Sexual Assault, Past sexual Assault.

Summary- Imagine a tally mark appearing on your skin every time you fall in love. When your tally mark is Red then it's onesided, Black then the love is returned. If it is scarred then your love ended traumatically.

You have a scarred tally mark and a red tally mark, the red one being for Kisuke Urahara.

Word Count- 3,928

You led in bed staring down at your wrist where a single red tally mark decorated your skin. In this world, a tally mark showed your love. People who fell in love easily were littered with marks, whereas the people who were only in love with one person would have one. If the mark is red it's unrequited, if it was Black then the person you love returns your feelings.

Your singular red mark was for Kisuke Urahara, a friend of your friends. You went to his shop with your friends whenever they needed something from him seeing as that seemed to be your only excuse to see him. You didn't want to come across as weird for visiting on your own. Especially when you have no real powers like the others.

Annoyingly you had one other mark on your arm, a scarred tally mark, one from your ex. In this world a scarred tally would mean that your love for them ended very abruptly and traumatically. No one knew about that tally, you were very good at keeping it hidden, whether it was with a well placed bracelet or a long sleeved shirt.

Rolling onto your side you let out a huff. It hurts, it shouldn't but it does. Knowing that the one man you love doesn't feel the same way. You barely get to see him since your friends don't visit that often. But you'll take whatever time you can with him even if you don't get to talk.

Well, only time will tell.

---

"Y/N!!!" A fist slammed against the door multiple times as Ichigo's voice yelled your name. "C'mon man! We've gotta get to Hat 'n' Clogs!" Sleepily, you raised your head taking a glance out of your open window.

"Wh-what for?" The early morning rasp in your voice made it a note or so deeper than it actually was. You stretched out and hopped out of bed throwing on the nearest clothing you had, which happened to be a (f/c) long knit sweater, a pair of black leggings and some brown boots.

"Y/N! We haven't got all day, move your ass!" You shook your head and ran out of the house not brushing your hair, figuring you could comb it down with your fingers on the way there.

By the time you got there you realised there was no point fixing your hair until you got inside in the first place. It was so windy outside that your hair just kept blowing around which made it worse than before. "Hey, come in guys." You froze for a moment as heat rushed to your face, you brushed a small amount of hair over your face, hoping he didn't notice it.

Quickly yet quietly you walked into the shop following behind Ichigo whilst you brushed down your hair. Kisuke stopped you briefly "You missed a spot." and with nimble hands, he began to flatten down your hair. "There, done." He gave you his signature grin, placing a hand onto the small of your back leading you to the rest.

Once Kisuke leads you to your friends he then gets down to business. “So, I am assuming you guys are here for the training grounds, right?” The ginger he questioned nods his head. You didn’t have any special abilities at all, but your friends knew you were great moral support and a generally good person so they let you in on their secret.

Most of the time you find days like this one quite boring, sure you’d get to see Kisuke but you usually have nothing to do. On some days you would help Tessai, Jinta and Ururu with their work or well, in Jinta and Ururu’s case, you would do their work for them.

When your friends finish training and all head home Kisuke typically gives you something for your time. At first he would give you the equivalent of minimum wage for the amount of work you do but recently (due to finding out your love for (favourite collectable)) he would end up getting you those instead.

The boys and Orihime go down into the training room, leaving you upstairs in the shop with Kisuke. “So, um… Is there anything you need me to do today?” you asked in your typically meek voice. Being with Kisuke made you so nervous you could barely talk, so being able to say that was a blessing.

Kisuke tilted his hat back with his thumb as he thought about things you could do around the shop. “Not that I can think of, for once Jinta and Ururu did the work I assigned for them.” You fake gasped at his comment. They finished their work… Early?

“No way, Jinta and Ururu finished their work? Damn that never happens.” Kisuke laughed at your comment and squeezed your shoulder. Yeah, when you did hang out with Kisuke alone you did have a lot of fun, but you still don’t like to intrude if you don’t have a reason to.

“Tell me about it.”

“Well what am I meant to do then?!” You dramatically waved your arms in the air in exasperation. When you did so Kisuke caught sight of the two tally marks and promptly grabbed your wrist.

“A Scar and a Red tally mark. I’m sure those are both fun stories.” He lightly massaged the scarred tally on your wrist making you flinch. He looked up at you in concern, dropping your arm. “Sorry.”

“It is fine, I’m just- No one has ever seen that before, as you can imagine I’m not particularly keen on anyone seeing that one..” You explain, rubbing the scar to try and ease some of the emotional turmoil.

“Does anyone know? Ichigo? Orihime? Chad?” He listed off some of your friends and to each one you shook your head. No one knew this, and you were planning on keeping it a secret from everyone, not even Kisuke was meant to know. “Would you mind telling me?” You shook your head once more. You didn’t even want to remember the scar, much less the asshole who caused it.

Kisuke rubbed your shoulder, trying to soothe your pain with a small smile on his face. "It's fine, you don't have to talk about it. But if you ever need to, I'll be happy to listen." Tears start to pool in your eyes, you've never spoken about it to anyone outside of your family, maybe it would be good. But not now.

You gave Kisuke a tight hug, the tears in your eyes spilling out. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." You kept repeating over and over into his chest. Kisuke was shocked at first but wrapped his arms around you, rubbing his fingertips up and down your spine to calm you down, his cheek pressed into your hair.

Both of you stayed that way for a while until you finally calmed down, letting go of the tall, green clad man. "I'm sorry about that- I should probably head home." You scrubbed at your eyes with the sleeve of your jumper with an appreciative smile on your face.

"Hey, it is fine." Kisuke messed up your hair with one of his hands. "It is nothing to worry about, just know that I am here if you need to talk. Just because you don't have powers doesn't mean you can't come here whenever you want to." He cups your face in his hands with a grin "YOU are an absolute pleasure to have here, okay?" You nodded your head, still too upset to really speak properly. "Good."

Kisuke walks you to the door once you calmed down enough and saw you out. "Hope to see you here soon, Y/N." You nodded your head.

"That will probably be when they come here again." You smiled at him, waving your hand as you walked home.

------- Timeskip to a week later. -------

You walk home from the shops as you keep looking down at the shopping list, making sure that you have everything. Your mother had asked you to go down because she forgot some ingredients she needed. It was getting a little dark and it was kind of scary being by yourself, but at the same time you did enjoy the peace and quiet.

"Ohhh, Look who it is." Your face paled, you knew that voice anywhere, he was the reason for the scar. "Why do you look so scared, don't you remember the fun we had together?" You bit your lower lip harshly, weighing out your options. Urahara's shop wasn't that far away so you could make a break for it, but you knew he was a fast runner.

With a groan you made your choice and dashed to the shop. "Oi! Get back here you stupid cunt!" Of course, you could hear the sound of heavy footfalls hitting the asphalt behind you, this was inevitable. But if you got close enough to the shop you knew that you'd be able to at least get someone's attention, whether it was Jinta, Ururu, Kisuke or Tessai.

"Oh, Y/n I knew you enjoyed our time together, you remembered how much I enjoyed the struggle. Although you were so much more compliant when you slept." You stopped dead in your tracks, you hated him, you hated thinking about him... About the things he has done and the fact that you loved him once. He laughed at your stop, you were almost right outside of the shop by this point, but that didn't matter.

"Do you finally agree with me Y/n? Do you finally see that it is all you're good for?" You were trembling by this point, not from fear, oh no; from pure hatred. You dropped the bag you were holding in your dominant hand and with a quick turn you put all of your anger into your movements and punched him in the face, knocking him to the floor.

Your body, however, was still shaking. You wanted to hurt him, you wanted to hurt him bad. How was it fair that he got out of the relationship with nothing yet you with a heart full of anxiety and fear. You readied yourself to hit him again with the fist that already had blood on it since you broke his nose when you heard a voice call out to you.

"Y/n? Y/n? Are you okay?" Your head turned towards the store, and stood in the doorway was none other than Kisuke Urahara. You didn't even look down at him. You sprinted as fast as you could to Kisuke, pushing him inside of the building before sliding the door shut.

You led your back against the door as you slid down it, landing yourself on the floor. Your eyes were wide, frightened- Kisuke has never seen you with that expression, you looked terrified. Knowing something was up, he locked the store up and left the room, coming back with a warm cup of tea, sitting next to you.

He handed you the cup and spoke with a quiet voice, trying not to scare you. "What was all that about? Are you okay?" You shook your head, keeping your face directed towards the cup in your hands, which were still trembling. "Did you want to talk about it once you're calmed down?" You nodded your head, Kisuke was silent for a few seconds, as if contemplating whether or not he should say anything. "Did you want a hug?" You nodded again.

Kisuke wasted no time wrapping his left arm around you to pull you into his side, he used his thumb to rub little circles into your side as his head rested on top of yours. "It'll be okay, Y/n. You'll be okay, just breathe. Whatever happened won't happen anymore, you're safe here." He kept whispering to you.

Eventually, you finished the drink he made you and hugged him back. His face was now completely in your hair as he kissed the top of your head. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Y-yeah, thank you..." You stuttered out, tired from what had just occurred.

"Good, if you want I can run you a bath and get you some fresh clothes. You can stay the night if you don't feel safe to head back, okay?" You nodded your head, but then you remembered your mother. As if reading your thoughts, Kisuke spoke up again. "I'll phone your mum while you're in the bath and fill her in, how does that sound?"

"That sounds good, thank you Kisuke." He rubbed your head and stood up, offering you his hand.

After your bath you had calmed down considerably, no longer shaking and being able to speak. Kisuke left some of his clothes folded up in the bathroom for you to change into (which you did). You sat on Kisuke's bed cross legged, trying to comprehend what happened today when there was a knock at the door. "Come in."

Kisuke walks into the room with your phone in his hand. "So I spoke to your mother, she said you could stay here for the night and that I should walk you home at some point tomorrow, or whenever depending on how long you want to stay." He sits next to you and continues. "She also told me who that guy was. Nothing about what happened, she just said that he is the scum of the earth."

You laughed "Yeah, that sounds about right. Due to what happened I don't ever call him my ex. Whenever anyone mentions him we just call him twat." Of course, Kisuke was very confused as to what happened but he already asked a few times so he didn't want to push it, but the look on his face told you everything. "I'll tell you what happened."

"You don't have to." He protested quickly, not knowing if it would upset you to talk about it.

"It is fine, I just have one condition. This is a very touchy subject for me so I was wondering if you could um--- how do I put this?" Kisuke chuckled, knowing what you meant, sitting back with you on his bed, pulling you into his side, much like when you were against the door.

"Take your time."

You took a deep breath and began. "He was my first boyfriend, if I can call him that. He was controlling, manipulative and abusive in more ways than one. He didn't let me talk about any guys, if I played a game wrong he would stop me from playing it. If he was horny I'd have to do something about it and so on... Well anyway, it got to the point where I-- I didn't want to do anything like that. He said he was fine with it... But-" Your breathing got heavier the further into explaining, tears began to form and fall from your eyes. You hated remembering this, but you were hoping that maybe this would be good in the long run.

"Hey, look at me." You hear Kisuke say gently as he turns your face to him. "I know it may not mean or do much but you're safe here, nothing is going to happen to you, I'll look after you, okay? There is no need to worry while you're here, but I do understand why you are." He rubs your head affectionately, hugging you tighter. "Like I said, take your time."

You relished in that hug and composed yourself before continuing. "He said he was fine with it, but one night I woke up and his hand was somewhere it shouldn't have been and his other hand was--- y-yeah. He was with me for a while after that since I was too scared to break up with him. Then I met someone I really liked who was so nice to me, and I realised that I didn't want to be stuck with someone like him."

Kisuke made a noise of understanding. "So that is the red mark then, it is hard to believe that someone would be so thankful for a red mark."

"Yeah, I know. But I really am, and I'm thankful for the help from him too." You smiled, running your finger delicately along the red tally mark.

"Doesn't the red tally mark hurt though? That the person who saved you from that twat doesn't feel the same?" He asked, and yeah it was painful.

"Yeah, it is really painful. But I always think to myself I would rather have this red tally mark and be friends with him than have none at all and still be with twat. Anything is better than that even if it is not reciprocated love." You shrugged your shoulders trying to come across as nonchalant when all you wanted to do was tell Kisuke that the mark was him, but you decided against it. You let out a yawn that caught Kisuke's attention.

"I should probably let you sleep then." He gets up from his spot and you huddle under the covers. Kisuke grins at the sight, fixing the blankets over you and kissing your forehead. "Today has been a rough day so if you need anything just shout, okay? Even if you think it is dumb." Despite everything that happened you slept well that night.

----Time skip 3 days----

"Y/n! Let's go! Hat n Clogs is waiting!" Ichigo yelled up to your window, pulling you from your sleep. You rush to get dressed, throwing a jumper on with leggings like before and you ran from the house.

You opened the door and outside waiting for you was Ichigo and the gang. "Well? Come on!" With that you all went back to Kisuke's shop. Over the 3 days you and Kisuke got closer, he'd constantly phone your mother to check up on you. (since he phoned your mum before and not you so he knew her number) It bugged her so much that she gave you Kisuke's number so she wouldn't be bothered anymore, which was sweet.

Everyone walked into the shop and greeted Kisuke. "Ah, Y/n!" He wrapped his arm around your shoulder playfully, a smile playing across his lips. "Everything okay?" You could see his eyes from the angle so you knew what he meant and you smiled back at him.

"Yeah, I'm okay." He let go of you and began talking to the others about Gigai upgrades. As you tidied around the shop you heard the bell chime indicating someone had come in, you looked up and that someone was twat. Your eyes went wide as you dropped the broom you were holding, alerting the others.

Kisuke's carefree smile and attitude completely dropped when he saw who was there. He grabbed your shoulders, pushing you towards your friends, they noticed something was up there and they stood in front of you. "Get out." He shakes his head, walking around the store as he was being stared at by everyone. "I said get out."

Twat laughed, "I'm a customer here, you can't tell me to get out, I want to buy something." Kisuke got closer to Twat, who was starting to clearly become intimidated by your friends.

"I have the right to refuse people. Customers are typically human, and sadly you don't qualify for one of those, so get the fuck out of my shop." With each sentence Kisuke got closer to him until eventually he got so intimidated and fled. Kisuke locked the shop door and ran over to you, avoiding the strange looks from the others.

"Are you okay?" You appear to be in a state of shock, you feel like you can barely move or speak, you just stood there, trembling. Kisuke continues to ignore the others as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. "I am going to tell them if that is alright, just make any sound for a yes, okay?" He heard a small sound come from you so he begins to explain to your friends what happened.

-------

By the end of the explanation you came back to reality, since you weren't paying attention to anything other than Kisuke's arms around you, you were able to pull through pretty quick. Your friends all looked really mad at him for everything he did and thanked Kisuke profusely for helping you out through this. After a while, the others finally leave, giving you a hug and giving you a word of advice, they even offered to teach you how to fight which you decided to take up.

You sat with Kisuke in his room as you usually do after something like that happens. You were talking about nothing in particular when Kisuke stopped you. "Um- Y/n, that person- they return your feelings." You laughed

"No they don't, the proof is in the pu---" You lift your sleeve to show the proof when you noticed that he was right. The telly mark was Black now. You stare at the mark in utter shock. "I- What?" Your eyebrows furrowed together. "That is impossible, why would he like me?" Kisuke smiles at you, messing up your hair like he normally does.

"Probably because you're a fantastic p-" He stops dead in his tracks when he stops a completely new mark on his arm, the arm that was totally clean, in all of his years of living he has never fallen in love. You look up and wonder why he went quiet when you notice him staring at his arm, he must have realised who that tally mark is for. "That-" He gestures towards your mark. "That is for me, isn't it?"

You flush, you never thought you'd end up in a situation like this one. "Y-yeah it is." You bite your lip in worry, you knew he liked you as well, I mean you could literally see it, but that doesn't mean that he would want to be with you. Kisuke smiled softly at you as he ran his fingers through your hair.

"I always thought you were pretty, and I knew that I would absolutely fall for you, I could feel it. So I'm honestly glad it is returned. But um- We don't have to be in a relationship yet if you don't think you're ready for one." Kisuke was the sweetest and that is why, without a doubt in your mind, you knew that you were ready.

"I am ready, I've wanted to be with you for a long time now, I love you Kisuke." You blushed heavily. You think those words often enough but you didn't think you'd ever say them out loud to him.

"Since we have that sorted- can I kiss you?" Kisuke asked, his thumb running across your jaw, your skin tingling from his touch.

"Yeah, you can." His thumb moved, holding on lightly to your chin to pull you close. You were a hair's width away from kissing but he stayed there for a few moments with a look in his eyes that said 'You can still back off if you want to' but you didn't. He took your stillness as an invitation to continue and planted a soft kiss to your lips, his hands moved to cup your cheeks while your own remove his hat so they could rest in his hair. After a few moments of his soft kiss Kisuke pulled back, only to kiss you one more time.

"I love you too, Y/n. I'll make sure nothing bad will ever happen to you again."

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magicshopaholic · 2 years ago

Note

Piggybacking off the recent ask, I’ve got two OC questions. First would be how old are they based on where we are in the timeline, and maybe the same for their men (as long as it doesn’t interfere with keeping the future a secret of course…).

And secondly, could you describe their style? I remember Dilara of course but just wanted to visualise them a bit more.

Hope you’re doing well!! Happy to hear the move went well

Hm, okay, so I think I can give you the ages (international, not Korean) as of their latest fics:

Kaya was born in '93, so as of Seoul, she and Namjoon would be 26 and 25 respectively. Nari and Jin are the same age, ie. born in '92, and as of On Call are both 28. Miso is '91 born; as of Family Matters, she and Yoongi are 28/29 and 27 respectively. Chaeyoung is four years younger than her brother and Hoseok ('98 born), so as of the end of Double Take, they would be 21 and 25 respectively. Sooah and Jimin were in the same class and are therefore the same age, so '95 born. As of A Phone Call, they are both 24 going on 25. Dilara is '96 born, and as of Baby, It's Cold Outside, she and Taehyung are 23 and 24 (going on 24 and 25). Lia is three years older than Jungkook, ie. '94 born and as of Honey, they are both approximately 29/30 and 26/27 respectively (this is a little uncertain and depends on future events).

Now comes style; this is a fun one :D

Kaya - On a day to day basis, she would usually be casual in skinny jeans and a top/hoodie, depending on the weather. If she were going out, she might wear dresses sometimes but they would be short and relatively A-line and form fitting, or she would wear a tank top and jeans with a casual blazer. If she's taking a class or a presentation, she would be in formals, typically a formal black skirt and a top.

Nari - Largely a jeans and t-shirt kind of person, although majority of the time she's in hospital scrubs. At home she's usually in sweats or an oversized t-shirt, but if she has to go out, she makes a huge effort to dress up because she would love to be able to look good once in a while.

Miso - Usually dark and muted colours. Her top preference would be mom jeans with some kind of plain top. Being slender in general, she would be able to carry off dresses without too much of a hassle and wouldn't look overdressed. She would wear short skirts with stockings underneath. Wouldn't be a huge fan of make-up but would make the bare minimum effort for a formal event and maybe pin her hair back.

Chaeyoung - Loves to dress up and would take a lot of pride in her clothing, especially given her job. She would like colour and absolutely love accessorizing, constantly in cute jewellery or with a new bag or a hat. She would be bold with trying things out as well, knowing it will be appreciated in her line of work. Kind of like Emily in Paris but less over-the-top.

Sooah - Her style is would be cute but edgy, with a very 70s and 80s vibe. She would love to show off some midriff in crop tops, wear high waisted light blue jeans, add scarves in her hair and wear thin chokers. She would also wear denim overalls, whether in the form of pants or a skirt, and if she were going out, wouldn't hesitate to throw in a bit of leather or fishnet once in a while.

Dilara - While she would spend a lot of time in comfortable jeans/joggers because she's either travelling or working out, she would want to deliberately move away from those while off schedule. She would wear her fair share of dresses and skirts, but her style would sometimes be borderline androgynous, in that she would wear a lot of casual pant suits or oversized jeans. She would love to accentuate her femininity, especially surrounded by men on the paddock, by pairing it with heels, keeping her hair long and flowing, and styling it with bangs. It would be very Dominique Beyrand or Francoise Hardy.

Lia - Her style would be much more modern and as a corporate professional, would dress similarly to Kaya, usually in clean denims and casual blazers, sometimes with ankle boots or heels. On a casual basis, she would wear shorts a lot which would accentuate her toned legs but would otherwise be in jeans or leggings with oversized t-shirts or hoodie.

Read more about the OCs here

#this was soooo much fun #i could do this all day #notes🍷#ocs of the idolverse #quarter-life-crisis2

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jxtina-86 · 3 years ago

Text

Bang

Reasons why you should always think before you speak. RomanReigns/Alexia. See here for the rest of the series/order to read

Warning: Smut/Language

Rating: MA

Lex's POV

I fucked up.

I really did. And I don't know if there is a way back from this. I didn't think it was my fault. Not at first. But the more I think about it... Maybe I am to blame. I should have stepped away from the situation. I should have gone to the bathroom, gone to check on Roman, gone back to the god damn hotel room.

Instead, I stayed. And now here we are. On vacation of all places and all I can think of is what happened just a few days ago. It's still so raw, so fresh in my memory. Surely he must feel the same? I mean, why else would he be acting like this? The distance, the inability to communicate, the fact that we've barely touched each other by accident in the last few days, let alone deliberately.

And it's all my fault.

Roman's arm is slung around my shoulders, hugging me into his body as I sip my drink. My pre-vacation drink to be exact. Seven blissful days lie ahead of us, seven days of sun, sea and sand. Seven days without cell phones, the outside world, WWE or anyone else. Just us.

I don't think we've ever had seven days to ourselves. Not consecutively at any rate. Days together are scraped together. We wrangle the life out of those 24 hours, not daring to rest for a minute for fear of wasting time. It's intense and I love it, but this? This will be a rare occasion to take our time, to appreciate lazy minutes and hours. To just be, rather than do, do, do. To escape into oblivion, rather than just the sanctity of our own four walls.

His hand squeezes my shoulder and I glance up at him. He smiles, bending his head to brush his lips over mine. Pulling back, he gives me another smile and then reaches forward for his own drink.

Forget the seven days that lie before us, I'm still getting over the last three on the road with him and the rest of the roster. Some may not count shifting between three cities in the last three days a vacation – in fact, even Shiv thinks I'm mad every time I get excited for a few days on the road. But I can't even begin to describe how amazing it is to spend time with Roman during the minimum downtime he gets. I like being there with him when he falls asleep at night and wakes in the morning. It's such a rare thing for us to have, that I savour every moment. And even if I only get him for a few hours between media gigs, workouts and shows, it's preferable to being at home and not being able to see him for those few hours a day.

Roman's cellphone begins to vibrate on the table. He reaches for it and I see 'Mom' flash across the screen.

“Sorry, baby girl, I won't be long...” He pecks my cheek as he pushes back his chair and answers the phone. “Hey, Mom, what's up?”

He's silent for a second and then: “Hang on, it's too noisy in here.” He nods towards the hotel lobby and I wave him away.

I settle back in my chair and take another sip of my drink. Our bags are packed, by the door, all ready to go in less than eight hours. I flip over my own cellphone and note the time. Weighing my drink in my hand, I take another long sip to empty it. Pulling the hotel keycard towards me, I go to stand.

“You bailing already?”

I turn to face the voice, meeting the smirk and blue eyes. Dolph Ziggler slides into Roman's vacated chair, casually draping his arm over the back of my chair.

“It's late, we've got an early start,” I smile, clutching the phone and keycard tightly.

“Ah, yes, the vacation. Speaking of the big man, where's he got to? Kinda rude to leave a lady alone.”

“He just went to take a call,” I say, gesturing towards the hotel lobby. “In fact, I think I'll–”

“Hey, what's the rush? You don't wanna sit and talk to me, I'm offended, Lexi.”

I frown, a wave of uneasiness washing over me as he uses the one name that only Roman calls me. Not even Shiv calls me Lexi. Not even my own family call me Lexi.

“You don't want to offend me, do you?” He gives me a wide-eyed stare, but there's something beneath the blue eyes that unsettles me further.

“Honestly, Dolph, I don't need a babysitter. I'm a big girl, I can look after myself. Why don't you go back to enjoying yourself and–“

“That's what the big man likes, huh? A bit of fire?”

“Excuse me?” I swallow hard at the insinuation. “Seriously, I'm going to get up and go now. Let's just forget this ever happened.”

I go to stand, but he quickly moves his hand to mine and pulls me back into the chair.

“Lexi, c'mon... I didn't mean anything by it. Let's start over huh? You looked lonely, I just wanted to come and chat. I just felt it a shame to see a beautiful woman like you sat on her lonesome.”

His hand is still on mine and even as I try to move away, his grip tightens.

“Let go,” I tell him firmly. His forehead crinkles for a second before he raises his hands in surrender.

“You're a tetchy lil' thing, aren't you?” he grins. “I can see why Roman likes you.”

“You're doing it again.” My teeth are gritted, my whole body awash with tension.

“Doing what? I'm just speaking the truth, Lexi. A beautiful, strong woman like you.” His eyes drop from my face and I shift uncomfortably as I feel them rove over my body. I suddenly regret the floaty summer dress that dips low on my chest and rides high on my thighs. I brush my hands over the hem, tugging it as low as possible.

“You're making me uncomfortable.”

He leans closer and a wave of nausea washes over me as I smell the alcohol on his breath. “Let me fix that...”

His hand brushes over my thigh, his fingers gripping firm. I knock his hand away with mine, but he just settles back again a few seconds later, his time with a firmer grip. I pry his hand away.

“Dolph, seriously. You're going to regret this. I really think–”

“Think what, Lexi? C'mon, babe, lighten up... Just a bit of fun.”

His hand creeps higher this time and I flinch as his fingers find flesh. I grip his hand tightly, prising it away, but he holds on fast.

“You're hurting me!” I glance up at him and then over his shoulder.

I freeze. Roman is stood at the entrance to the bar, phone in hand, midway between his ear and pocket. His face is contorted into an expression that makes him almost unrecognisable to me.

Suddenly, Dolph's strength is nothing compared to mine. I pull his hand away and stand up, my legs shaking. I can't look away from Roman, whose eyes bore deep into mine. Dolph is completely unaware, his hand brushing against my leg as I stumble over the chair to get some distance between us.

Roman stalks towards us, roughly jamming his phone into his pocket.

“Hey, what's going on?” His voice is cold, unflinching as his eyes finally leave me and settle on Dolph.

“Oh, hey big man,” Dolph remains seated, sprawling back in the chair. “I was just keeping your girl company.”

“Is that so?” Roman crosses his arms, his biceps flexing. “And in your head, keeping my girl company, means putting your dirty little hands on her?”

“Ro, c'mon... He's drunk. He...” I stumble to a halt as Roman's eyes flicker back to me. His expression is as cold as his voice.

He doesn't say anything to me, he just looks back at Dolph. “Answer me.”

Dolph finally stands, pulling himself as tall as he can, yet failing to meet Roman by a couple of inches. “Relax, bro. I didn't mean anything by it. I was just being friendly.”

“Funny kind of friendly,” Roman growls. “You touch her again, in fact, you even speak to her again, I won't be anywhere near as forgiving.”

“I was just keeping her company.”

“Maybe she didn't want your company.”

“And maybe she did.”

I feel my eyes widen. “Ro, let's go. Just leave it, okay?”

But Roman's eyes are still on Dolph. ��What did you say?”

“I said, maybe she did.”

I push past the chairs, placing myself between the two men. “Ro, seriously. Let's go. Now.”

“Go on, Ro,” Dolph's voice is mocking behind me. “Do as your girl says.”

I can feel the tension in Roman's chest as I press my hand against him, pushing him away from the situation.

“You're a cocky son of a bitch,” Roman hisses above me. “You better watch your fucking step, Ziggler.”

“Ro, leave it.” I shove him back again, desperate to create some distance between us and Dolph, who starts to chuckle behind me.

“Yeah, yeah. Bring your little firecracker too. She can tell you to back off when the going gets rough.”

Roman surges forward, brushing me aside. His fists are clenched, ready to rise and strike. Dolph at least as the sense to back away himself, raising his hands in surrender. Roman hisses something I don't catch, but whatever he says does the trick. Dolph falls back into his chair, his face a picture-perfect pout. Roman turns back to me, but he doesn't meet my eyes. As he brushes past, his hand catches my arm and he pulls me along with him, out of the bar and into the lobby.

His fingers dig in hard as we head for the elevator. Only when we're standing still and waiting for the doors to open, do I manage to wrench my arm free.

“Ro, what's gotten into you?”

He doesn't answer, just stares stoically ahead.

“Ro. Talk to me. He was being a jerk, a drunk jerk at that. He was stupid, of course he was, but I don't think he meant anything by it.”

I watch his jaw flinch as the elevator arrives and we board. The climb to our floor is excruciatingly slow and silent. I open my mouth several times to speak and then think better of it. I wouldn't say that I've really seen this side of Roman before now. A glimpse here and there of frustration and anger. But not rage. Never rage. Even when we've had our own arguments, it's never escalated to this. To jaw-clenching silence. To clenched fists.

Arguments between the two of us are usually over petty things. Things that don't matter. There's a half-hour cooling off period and then the silence and tension are broken and we're back to how we were before, giggling at our own stupidity, trying to work out what we were arguing over in the first place. But this? This feels different. There's a third party involved and I'm stuck in the middle.

The door pings open and he stalks down the corridor, leaving me to quicken my pace to keep up. At the hotel door, I pass him the keycard and he jerks it from my grasp.

“Ro,” I try again as the door clicks shut behind me. “Talk to me.”

“What did he mean by 'maybe she did'?”

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. “You're joking, right?”

“I saw, Lex.” His voice is clipped, still cold.

“Saw what? I was pushing him away.”

“Were you?”

“Yes!”

He's silent.

“You... You don't believe me?” My voice is quiet, filled with doubt, regret, worry.

“All I know is what I saw. I walk back into the bar and see his hand on your thigh, with your hand on top of it. He's all up in your space and you looked...” He trails off.

“You going to finish that sentence?” I snap. “Are you at all interested in my side of the story? I'm your fucking girlfriend. Do you really think I would do anything, anything at all, to encourage what he did? Think about it.”

His silence is deafening.

“We spend a fair amount of time apart, Ro. And have I ever accused you of anything quite like this? I'm not stupid. I know what guys like you get offered. I'm not naïve. But I have the good grace to not think the worst of you. In fact, the thought has never crossed my mind.” I pause, inhaling deeply, desperately trying to calm down. “I trust you. But do you trust me? Because the second some guy who's not been Reigns-approved speaks to me, you're all fucking over it. And to top it off, you throw accusations at me as well.”

“You defended him.”

“To stop you from doing something you'd regret! He was drunk, he was being a jerk, I told him to back off and he didn't. So I told him again and pushed him away. I was handling it. I've handled it before–“

“Before?” His head snaps up. “What happened before?”

“I didn't mean–”

“Who else are you defending?”

“Drunk guys in bars, Ro. Drunk guys who think they're their God's fucking gift and decide to hit on anything with two fucking legs. I'm just saying, that I can deal with it.”

“Who hit on you?”

“This is what you're focusing on? Really? Anonymous drunk guys. What's wrong with you?”

“Forgive me for wanting to be a protective boyfriend.”

“I don't need protecting,” I grit out, sick of sounding like a broken record.

“So you keep saying. Seems to me like you do.”

“Well, you did a fine job of that, pissing like a fucking dog.”

“Ziggler needs to know his place.”

“Y'know, I really don't want to be involved in your locker-room battles.” I kick off my shoes and push past him, heading towards the bathroom. “I'll be the fucking grown-up here. You take a moment to mull this over in that thick head of yours.”

I slam the door behind me and then rest against it, fighting back the tears.

I know exactly what goes on when I'm not here. I know about the girls that hang out by the parking lot exit and clamour to get the attention of the guys as they leave. I know about the girls who hunt them out at hotel bars, at dive bars, at restaurants. I know how they casually just slip their numbers into hands, willing or otherwise, with a promise of a good night. I know how they tell them to forget their girlfriends, their wives, their families. I know that in the eyes of many, I'm a pain in the backside. I am a thorn that needs to be plucked and disposed of just so they can get their 15 minutes of fame.

Some will crack. Some will accept it as part of the job, take them up on the offer even. It can be a lonely life and sometimes all you want and crave is a warm body to keep you company for a few hours.

But I trust that Roman isn't like that. If he was once, then that's not my place to judge. One could say that our initial relationship wasn't dissimilar to a casual hook up. I'm not innocent either. I'm not about to act all fucking pious over anyone's decision to have a one-night stand with a groupie or otherwise. If no one's getting hurt, participants or bystanders, then what's the problem?

I trust Roman. I trust him with my life. I trust that he doesn't hurt me. I trust that he does love me and doesn't want anyone other than me. And in return, he does the same. Or so I thought. Maybe not.

It never crossed my mind that he could have the same worries that flicker through the back of my mind. That he wonders what happens when I go to a conference or when I'm on a night out without him. But the fact that he thinks that, unnerves me, angers me. I feel disgusted that he would even dare to think that. Because I know he would be the same if I ever accused him.

His words buzz around my head and I'm incredulous that they even came from his mouth. I thought we were stronger than this. I thought that this is the sort of thing that would get ironed out in the early stages, rather than rearing its head two years down the line. It makes me wonder what else is going on. Is there something that I'm not aware of? Is there a hidden tension creeping into our relationship that I can't put my finger on? Have I pushed him away recently? Have I said something to put doubt into his head?

I sink to the floor and rock my head forward and back. I listen for sounds beyond the door. But it's silent. I can almost see him stood in the same position. If I opened the door right now, I wonder what would happen. But there's no way I'm making the first move. This is his fuck up to fix. I can't do anything more to convince him. And if he wants to believe what he sees rather than what he hears, then so be it. That's his choice. That's his idiotic choice.

I hear the bed creak and my heart sinks. Is he seriously just going to let this fester until tomorrow? I hate going to bed on the back of an argument, especially one like this. I appreciate the cooling-off period, but this?

I get to my feet and place my hand on the doorknob and then stop.

Anger flares inside of me again. No. Two can play this game. I can give as good as I get. I'm a stubborn bitch. And if he wants to play chicken with this, then fine. I'm a worthy opponent.

I strip and get in the shower, taking my time. He can stew. I can stew. In fact, I can stew longer than him. I'll take my sweet fucking time, deliberating over what to do next. He can fucking beg for my forgiveness. He can get down on his knees and tell me over and over again how sorry he is. And I'll let him do it. I'll draw it out for as long as possible. He wants to make me feel like this? Then I'll do the same to him.

An eye for an eye.

Roman is buried under the covers when I finally emerge from the bathroom. I pad across the room and dump my clothes by our cases. He doesn't stir, but his breathing gives him away.

He isn't asleep. And this is further confirmed when I climb into bed next to him and accidentally brush my foot against his leg. I feel him flinch at the touch and my resolve threatens to break. But I steel myself and roll away from him.

I close my eyes and beg for sleep. But minutes tick past and I'm still wide awake, my mind humming restlessly as I listen to his breathing. Anger still pumps through my veins and I'll be damned if I'm going to crack now. But guilt occasionally washes over me and it takes everything I have not to reach out to him.

I drift in and out, stirring awake with a sudden jolt as I feel him shift beside me.

“Lex?” His voice has lost the coolness, the bitterness. It's a voice that I recognise at last, but I still don't let myself believe it.

“Lex?” I feel him roll over, his hand brushing over my arm. “You awake?”

I murmur in response.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to accuse you. You aren't to blame for any of this. I swear to God, I'm sorry. Lex?”

I don't trust myself to answer. If he thinks this is good enough...

“I shouldn't have blown up at you like that. I shouldn't have said what I said. I was angry at Ziggler. He's such...” he trails off. “He doesn't matter, okay? He was drunk, I know. And I know that I was wrong to not trust you. I... I just saw red when I saw him touching you. And then he said what he said and it just got to me. It shouldn't have, but it did and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Lex.”

“Okay,” is all I can say. The relief that washes over me is still marred with his original comments. The fact that he could say it, no matter how sorry he is now, still means that he thought it. I don't care how much he regrets them, they still made their way into his mind at some point. He felt that way at some point tonight and I don't understand why or how he can think that about me.

That's what hurts the most.

“I need you to know how sorry I am.” His hand is still on my arm, his fingers feather-light against my skin.

“I know.”

I move my arm away from his touch. I can feel him deflate next to me.

“I'm sorry,” he says again, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

“I know.”

He's quiet and then: “I don't know what else to say.”

“Then don't say anything,” I shoot back, rolling onto my side and facing away from him. Because even in the dark shadows of the room, I know that if I even cast him a sideways look, I won't be able to stay resolute for long.

“Baby girl...” His hand rubs my back and I almost melt at his touch. “Please... Don't stay mad at me. I'm sorry, you have to believe me.”

“I believe you.”

“You accept my apology?”

“I do. I'm just tired, Ro. We gotta get up in four hours and I'd like some sleep before then.”

I feel him move closer, his lips brushing over the back of my head. “I'm sorry.”

That was the last time he touched me. We headed to the airport the following morning, conversation in the cab stilted and awkward. On the plane, I stared at the mini TV screen in front of me whilst he put on headphones and closed his eyes. It was the longest five hours of my life.

And now we're here, stuck in a private villa with only each other to speak to. Not that we're doing much of that. It's polite conversation all the way and lounging in the sun with our heads in books or headphones on. Dinner is the only time we're forced to speak and the conversation is back-breaking.

His apology only went so far. And I'm fighting an internal battle between head and heart over the entire affair. His stinging words are just too strong to let go of. His apology was too late. His silence on the subject ever since has spoken loudly and clearly. I shouldn't have done what I did. The thing that I've always sworn I'd never do: accept an apology without really accepting it. It's what I did. I told him I was fine. I told him that I was okay when really I was still crumbling and I haven't been able to re-build myself since.

I should have told him that. I should have rolled over and looked at him and told him how he made me feel. I should have explained to him why I was hurting.

But instead, I was a first-class bitch about the entire thing and accepted his apology to... To shut him up, I suppose. Because I didn't want to crack. Because I was being selfish with my own emotions. I know I'm to blame for why this vacation is a total disaster. I know I'm the one who should be apologising to him for all of this. But I just can't bring myself to do that.

He's always said he loves my independence, my righteousness. And here I am, giving it to him with all guns blazing. I'm pretty sure he didn't quite mean this. There's a difference between speaking your mind or standing up for yourself and being a stubborn cow who won't admit when she's wrong. And I know that. We all know that. But I'm just too stubborn to stop being stubborn.

I take a deep, shaky breath and gaze out at the sunset. I've fucked this up and I don't know if there's a way back.

Roman's POV

I fucked up.

Me and my big mouth, with my foot, firmly wedged in between. I'm a hot-head, always have been, always will be. But I've always managed to control it. But that night? Calm and rational were words that I couldn't grasp the meaning of. All I could see was his hand on her thigh. That's all I could zone in on. And her hand on top of it.

The latter is what threw me. As the angry haze settled over my vision, all I could think is why she wasn't pushing him away. It seemed like her hand was frozen on his. And it was only when she saw me that she pushed him off and backed away. My mind and heart were running at different speeds, unable to keep up with what was happening as I strode across the room.

I was struggling to keep my shit together. I could see Ziggler's larger than life pupils, knew his normal arrogant demeanour was perpetuated by his inability to hold his liquor. But that wasn't an excuse. It's never an excuse. I was on the verge of punching him. How dare he even try anything with Lex? How dare he even think himself worthy of her time? He should be so fucking lucky. And then she pushed herself between us, pushed me back and for a split second, I'd forgotten what he'd said, what he had suggested. I was ready to pull her into my arms, go back to the hotel room and forget about the whole thing.

But he pushed, he taunted and I couldn't contain myself. Something inside me switched and my vision was a blur of green and red. Jealous rage, the worst rage of all surged through me and I couldn't help myself. It wasn't until the last second, that my heart pulled me up and I punched with my voice rather than my fists. A little threat, a reminder that will hopefully stay with him when he sobers up. Not that I was around to find out.

No, I was doing my best to apologise for what followed.

I truly am a dick. I don't even know why I started to accuse her. All I could see was her hand on his. The way that she does with my hand when she wants it somewhere. The way she moves it to her thigh and encourages me to dig my fingers in tight as we fuck. Her hand always remains on top of mine as she relishes the feeling. My brain made the most epic of miscalculations.

Even as the words tumbled from my mouth, I regretted them. I watched her face crumple before me and I wanted to take them back, but I was on a roll and I couldn't stop poking the fire until she pushed me away and shut me out.

The second that door slammed shut, I knew it was too late. There was nothing I could say at that point that would make it any better. I'd well and truly fucked it up and there was no going back. How can you take back words like that? How can you convince someone that you trust them with every ounce of your being and that would never for one second think that they would hurt you like that? I'd shattered her belief in me, in herself, in us. I had put my faith in the words of an over-grown, drunk frat boy and not in the facts stated by the one person in my life who always strives to see the best in me and us.

How do we come back from this?

I thought, maybe stupidly, that I could make this better with an apology. It was agonising, lying next to her, listen to her restless breathing. Her leg against mine had made me jump and she'd instantly rolled away from me. I mentally kicked myself for being so stupid. There was so much I wanted to say, but couldn't. I wanted to reach out and pull her into my arms and show her how sorry I was, but even as I brushed my hand over her arm, I could feel the coolness, the distance. When she pulled away, I thought my heart was going to break.

So I told her. I told her how sorry I was, all the while hoping and praying that she believed me. Her responses were short and collected. I couldn't read her in the darkness, I had nothing to go off but her voice. But the more I think about it now, the less sure I am that she really has accepted my apology. But what else can I do?

I've fucked up this vacation. This was supposed to be time to catch up with each other, to take a moment with each other and here we are, barely able to remain civil. And it's not just the lack of words that are getting to me. No, it's the living situation too. It's being so close, yet unable to touch.

Despite the air conditioning, the nights are still hot and we're both forced into sleeping naked. I lay there on the first night, watching her chest rise and fall in the moonlight, her bare breasts exposed to me as she'd pushed the sheets down to her stomach. It was fucking torture.

And the bathroom... Without a fucking door. Every morning, I can see her showering, jealously rising in me as water cascades over her beautiful form and yet I can't do anything about it. All I want in the world right now is to be able to gather her in my arms without fear of sparking another heated argument. All I want is to show her how much she means to me. I want to make love to her on every fucking surface in this villa.

I need her. I want her.

And I can't have her.

Because I said something stupid and I can't take it back.

Take right now. I emerge from the villa and quietly take a seat on the sun lounger, watching her watch the sunset from the infinity pool. Her hair is bundled on top of her head, exposing the tie of her bikini at the back of her neck. She rests her chin on her hands as she gazes off into the distance, her back to me. I have no idea what's running through her head right now, but I pray to God that I can do something about it.

She sighs softly and raises her hands to drag them over her face. The gesture unnerves me and I realise that perhaps she's doing the same as me. Reliving that night over and over again, going over what was said, how it was said, why it was said. Desperately trying to re-write the script but to no avail. I've kicked myself many times over the last few days, wished that I had just taken her back to the hotel room and checked she was okay, that Ziggler hadn't hurt her. Blowing up at him was one thing, but at her? It's unforgivable.

Lex's head rocks forward and I swear I see her body start to tremble. I can't contain myself anymore, striding across to the pool without a second thought. Tugging my shirt off, I head down the steps into the warm water and slowly make my way towards her. She doesn't move and I wonder if she's aware of my presence.

My question is answered when I reach out and brush my fingertips over her shoulders; she jumps, quickly turning. My breath catches in my voice as I take in her red eyes.

“What?”

Her voice is broken and helpless.

“Baby girl...” I reach out and brush my fingers over her cheeks. “What's wrong?”

She gives me an incredulous stare and I inwardly curse. “If you don't know what's wrong, Ro, then what fucking hope do we have?”

Her words sting, but there's no bite or malice in her tone. They hit home because they're full of weary and worry and anxiety; three emotions that I am one hundred per cent responsible for.

“Lex, I'm sorry. I don't want to be the reason why you feel like this. I don't want to be the reason either of us feels like this.”

“You should have thought about that before you opened your mouth.”

I clamp my mouth shut as I steady the frustration that's threatening to burst. “I know. Ziggler just got to me. I know that I shouldn't have let him get to me like that and I know that I shouldn't have let you get caught in the cross-fire. But it happened. I'm sorry that I can't go back in time and change what happened. But I'm trying my best to apologise to you.”

She purses her lips and for a split second, I feel like I've gotten through to her once and for all. But then her eyes narrow.

“Y'know, it's not what you said, it's why you said it. You say that Ziggler got to you. Why is that?”

“I...”

“Is it because that's what you think I would do? You think I've got my eyes elsewhere, is that it? Have I done something to make you feel like that?”

“No, of course not.”

“So why did those words even cross your mind?”

“I don't know,” I admit.

“You were fixated on it. Like a fucking dog with a bone. You made me question my own actions that night. You made me think that somehow it was my fault that he came to talk to me, that he put his hand on my thigh. You made me think that it was something I had done or said. Was it the dress I was wearing? Or the way I had sipped my drink?” She takes a shaky breath. “You made me think that I was the cause of all of this.”

I reach out to brush my hand over her shoulder, to slide my arm around her and pull her to me, but she stops me with a violent jab at my chest.

“No fucking way. You don't get to come in here and act like all you did was say something you didn't mean. Do you even understand what I'm telling you? You blamed me, Roman. You made this about me when really, you are the one to blame.” She shoves me again and I let her. I let her push me away for a second.

“And you can't sit here and wallow and let me think that everything is okay when it's not.” I can't hold back anymore. “You accepted my apology. You said you believed me. What was I supposed to do? I'm not a fucking mind reader, Lex. If you felt this way, you should have told me.”

“I would have thought that it was pretty fucking obvious what do you did and how that made me feel. The fact that you haven't even thought about that–”

“It's all I can think about!” My voice echoes off the villa walls and back at us. “I messed up. Not you. I should never have said what I said, I should never have doubted you for a second. I can't even begin to understand my reasoning for saying those things to you, because I swear to God, Lex, I don't believe them. It's not what I think of you at all. You mean the world to me and all I can think about is how to make it up to you.”

“And you thought not speaking to me or touching me or doing anything with me was the answer?”

“Of course not! Christ, Lex, you're impossible sometimes.”

I regret the words the instant they leave my mouth.

“Excuse me? I'm impossible? I'm sorry that I just don't roll over and worship at your fucking feet. I'm sorry that it takes more than an apology to get my forgiveness sometimes. I'm sorry that I'm not one of those passive bitches who don't put up a fight. I thought that's what you liked, sorry, loved about me. Was that a lie too? Is this what you really think of me? That I'm the impossible one?”

I open my mouth to speak, but she cuts me off.

“No, Roman, let's talk about how impossible you are. You're a cocky bastard at the best of times, but at the worst, you're unbearable. You have this whole idea in your head of how you want me to be and whilst you're quite happy to let me be headstrong and determined, it's only when it suits you. Because otherwise, I'm an embarrassment. I make you look fucking pussy-whipped and you don't like that, do you?”

“Lex–”

But she's on a roll, firing on all cylinders. “You told me you give as good as you get. So do I, Roman. And two can play this game. You call me what you want, but I'll call you it straight back because as much as you might not want to admit it, we're cut from the same cloth.”

“You want to know why I'm so frustrated with you right now?” I cut through her monologue.

“Enlighten me.” Her voice is tight, her face emotionless. “Go on, tell me what I've done to make you this fucking angry. Tell me, so I know what I can do to fix it because it's bound to be something I did. Because-”

“Why are you still blaming yourself?”

“Because you haven't said anything to convince me otherwise! Are we having the same conversation here?”

“You call this a conversation? Christ, Lex, will you just–”

“No, don't tell me what to fucking do.”

“Marry me!”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You're joking right now. You didn't just say that. No fucking way. No, you do not get to say that to shut me up.”

“Marry me,” I repeat, my voice low.

She's silent, her mouth slightly open as my words finally sink in. I finally reach out and brush my fingers down the side of her face and then round to the back of her neck as I move closer to her.

“Marry me, Alexia.” I feel her shiver as I press my forehead against hers. “Don't blame yourself, baby girl. I'm the idiot to blame. I was in the wrong from beginning to end. Please, do one thing for me: believe me. I wouldn't ever think that of you, not even in my darkest moments. You are my fucking world, Alexia. Without you, I am nothing.”

“But...”

I shake my head against hers. “Listen to me. Please. For once, just listen. Forget all of this. Y'know why I was really angry about Ziggler? Because he threatened to ruin this week. He made us argue and I hate arguing with you. And I will spend the rest of my life apologising for what I said until you believe it from the bottom of your heart. You are worth that and so much more. If I can achieve one thing in my life, it's that you believe that I would never ever think that of you.”

“Ro... I didn't mean–”

“I know, baby girl.”

“I should have told you that–”

I shake my head again and wrap my arms around her, pulling her flush against me. “Forget it. I already have.”

“I'm sorry,” she mumbles into my chest and then she takes a breath that cracks at the edges. “Forgive me.”

I press my lips to her head in response and then nudge her until her face turns up to mine. “I'm sorry too. Even more, than you can imagine.” I lean down and kiss her cheeks, tasting salty tears that are all my doing.

“Why do you love me, Ro? I'm such a bitch to you.”

I frown at her words. “Why do you even have to ask that question?”

She shrugs helplessly and I slowly lift her in my arms, feeling her legs wrap around my waist as I press her against the side of the pool. Her arms wrap around my neck as I hold her gaze.

“You got me, I got you, remember?” I smile. “I want you forever, Lex. Forever and ever. Nothing's gonna change that.”

Her lips finally turn up into a small smile. “I want you too.”

“You have no idea how that makes me feel, baby girl,” I breathe, relief flooding through me as I finally see a glimpse of the Lex that I know and love. The anger, the bitterness, all seem like a distant memory. “I love you, Alexia.”

“I love you too, Roman.”

Her lips are warm and soft. It's quite possibly the slowest, most heartfelt kiss we've ever shared. It's tentative, yet familiar. Comforting, yet full of unknown. It's a make-up kiss, it's a forgiving kiss. It's the first kiss we've shared as...

I pull back and she gives me a questioning look. “What?”

“You didn't give me an answer.”

“An answer to wh–. Oh,” she pauses, realisation slowly dawning. “Well, if you hadn't asked me in the middle of an argument...”

“I wasn't going to.”

“You weren't?”

“I know you told me that you didn't want any grand gestures. But I couldn't let the moment pass without a little bit of grandness.”

“Hang on,” she says as I pull her away from the edge of the pool and make my way back towards the stairs, still carrying her in my arms. “You were going to ask me tonight?”

“Well, I was actually planning on asking you in the morning before we left.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And tonight's plan? What if I was still mad at you?”

“Why do you think I came out to the pool to find you?”

She goes to open her mouth, but I shake my head. “No more apologies.”

Lex nods slowly as I carefully climb the short flight of steps up onto the patio area. Setting her down, I lean down and brush my lips over hers again. “Close your eyes, baby girl.”

She squeezes them shut with a giggle and I guide her back into the villa, fighting to keep my hands on hers, rather than her wet breasts, stomach and ass. As we step over the threshold, I take a nervous glance around.

“Okay, you can open them.”

“Ro...” she breathes.

The table is laid with a crisp white tablecloth, complete with a bucket of ice and champagne. Next to it, two glasses are at the place settings for dinner. A large candle sits in the middle, the warm light glistening in the half-light. Lex takes a step forward.

I follow her. “I know you didn't want a fuss...”

She glances back at me over her shoulder. “This is definitely the right amount of fuss.”

Looking back at the table, she freezes for a second, her eyes catching the ring box that sits at one of the place settings.

“Open it,” I tell her, stepping closer until I can wrap my arms around her.

I watch her shaky hand reach for the box and hear the soft snap as she opens it.

“Fuck... Ro.”

She sucks in a breath as her fingers brush over the round diamond. “It's beautiful.”

“If you don't like it, I can take it back, get it changed, whatever you want.”

She lets out a soft laugh. “Why would you do that? It's perfect.”

Turning to face me, she raises a hand and brushes it over the side of my face. “You chose it yourself and that is more than enough for me.”

I peer down at her questioningly. “You sure?”

She fingers the ring again, following the bead-set stones that run down either side. “Never been so sure of anything in my life.”

“So... Is that a yes?” I chuckle.

“Yes.”

I pluck the box from her hand and tug the ring free. Taking her hand, I run my fingers along her empty ring finger before sliding the ring home. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. My head is spinning, the last 72 hours a blur all of a sudden as she stands before me, with a ring on her finger, her solitary word ringing in my ears as we take one step closer to forever.

She holds her hand aloft, the candlelight glinting off the diamond as she turns her hand one way and then the other. “You have excellent taste, Mr Reigns...”

“Mmm,” I reply, my lips brushing over her shoulder. “I'm with you after all.”

She giggles and rolls her eyes, placing her hand on my chest and I feel the metal band pressed against my skin. “Where's dinner?” she suddenly frowns.

“No dinner,” I whisper in her ear. “Only dessert...”

She raises an eyebrow. “Yeah and what exactly is for dessert?”

“You, baby girl...” I nip at her earlobe and then sink lower, attaching my lips to her neck, feeling her body sag against me. “It's been 72 hours and I'm starving...”

I slide my hands down her back, tugging playfully at the bikini tie before I grip her ass in both hands and pull her hips to mine. I grind slowly against her, groaning as my dick hardens inside my shorts.

“You're always starving,” she grins, her hands moving over my shoulders and around my neck.

I growl against her mouth as I pick her up once again, my hands on her legs, wrapping them firmly around my waist as I carry her towards the bedroom. Her lips attack mine after two steps and I struggle to keep us upright, let alone headed in the right direction. I pull my mouth away, chuckling as she whines, so I can navigate the lounge and finally make it to the bedroom.

Carrying her to the bed, I let her pull my face back to hers, goosebumps forming as she caresses my face before capturing my lips again. Kneeling on the edge of the bed, I lower her onto the soft sheets, my hands gently prising her legs from my waist.

My mouth drops from hers and I slowly make my way down her neck, seeking out familiar spots and feeling pangs of exhilaration as she purrs my name in response. Her neck arches slightly and I pluck at the tie, feeling it loosen under my fingers and slip away. I shift down, my tongue tracing her collarbone as I pull the two strings down. Wet material grips her skin, slowly peeling away as I reach her breasts. I uncover them one by one, taking my sweet time to cover every inch of her body. I lick the dampness from her right breast, cupping the warm flesh in my hand and bringing the soft nipple to my mouth. It slowly hardens as I flick my tongue over it and then I pull it firm between my lips, feeling Lex's back arch beneath me. I switch to the other and when her back arches again, I slip my hands under her and pull the final tie loose. Moving the wet item of clothing away, I press her breasts together and trail my tongue between the join.

Her hand cups the back of my head, tugging at my hair, forcing my face up so I meet her eyes, which flare with lust. I hold her gaze as I sink south, pressing open-mouthed kisses on her stomach. My fingers dig into the waistband of her bikini briefs, rolling them down as I reach her hips. I pull back slightly, as I move off the bed and to the floor, pulling her with me until she's on the edge completely. I kneel and prise her hand from the back of my head. My finger runs over the ring once again and I raise her hand to my lips, kissing the palm.

“I figured you'd prefer if I didn't get down on one knee...” I murmur. “But you know, I'm always happy to be on my knees for you, baby girl.”

She smirks. “My favourite place for you to be, big guy.”

I turn her hand, grazing my lips over the back and then pecking a path down until I reach her ring finger. Running my thumb over the ring, I look back up at her.

“Y'know, the reason why we use this finger for engagement and wedding rings is that people once thought that there was a vein that ran from here all the way to the heart.” I trace a finger from the tip of hers, up over her hand, her wrist, her arm and then I slowly rise so I can press my hand over her heart. It beats hard and fast as I grip her other hand and press it to my chest. “All yours, Lex. Forever.”

“Forever,” she repeats, her voice barely above a whisper as I drop my head and run my tongue along the waistband of her briefs. She hisses above me, her hand moving to my shoulder, squeezing firmly.

I drop both my hands to her hips and start to remove her briefs, inhaling deeply as I do. My lips follow my hands, desperately covering all the exposed skin. She widens her legs without even a hint from me, revealing her wet slit to me. But I hold back, letting my hands caress her legs from her thighs to her ankles, my mouth adorning her inner thighs with wet kisses as she groans above me.

“Ro... Please...”

I want to savour this moment, but her voice is hard to resist and I give in, moving my arm over her hips and pushing her into the mattress as I kiss her opening. Her sweet nectar dissolves on my tongue and I push deeper, craving more. Her thighs tighten around my head as I raise my mouth to her clit, flicking the tip of my tongue over it before I press it flat against and drag it up.

“Shit...”

I push two fingers into her, feeling her walls clamp down. Twisting my hand, I slowly stroke against the soft pad inside her, grinning to myself as she hisses and jerks.

“Feel good, baby girl?” I murmur, chuckling as she groans in response. “Tell me...”

I pull her clit between my lips, sucking softly.

“Ro... That... Feels... Christ... Do that again...”

She doesn't need to ask twice. I flick my tongue over her trapped clit, relishing in the sensation of her hands in my hair, her legs wrapped around my head as I drive my fingers in and out of her. She eggs me on, cooing softly as I slow the pace and let her down from her almost high and then giving me throaty moans as I thrust my fingers into her hard and fast, my tongue assaulting her clit. It's the back and forth that I enjoy. I like pushing her so close, she's on the verge of screaming and then pulling her back until she's begging for more.

“Let me cum... Please, Ro...”

I loosen my grip on her hips, shifting my hand to push her leg wide, opening her up so I can flatten my tongue against her once again as my fingers drive into her, stroking the sensitive spot inside her until she lets out a piercing howl, my name on her lips, like it will be for the rest of my life.

It's quick and hard, her body crying out for touch. I know that I'm going to be the same, the second my dick slides inside her. I pull myself free of her legs and then quickly remove my shorts. Fisting my dick, I push her legs back onto the bed and she takes the hint, backing up as I crawl over her. Cupping her face, I kiss her hard, making her taste herself on my tongue. She responds with passion, her tongue sliding against mine as I slowly roll us onto our sides.

Her leg instinctively rises around my waist and I continue to fist my dick as the tip brushes over her dripping entrance. Her hand drops to join mine, pushing my hand away and I groan into her mouth as I feel her small hand wrap around my length. Breathlessly, she guides me inside her, shifting until my face is buried in her neck and she cups the back of my head, holding me to her.

She leans back ever so slightly, giving me the room I need to push fully inside her. She gasps as I do and I hold steady, feeling her leg tighten around my waist as her pussy grips my dick. My bottom arm is around her shoulders, holding her firm whilst my other arm wraps around her back as I slowly start to push and pull.

Lex whimpers in my ear, her hips rocking against mine, matching my pace. I slide my hand down her back, feeling a hint of sweat on her spine. I grip her ass, hiking her leg higher so I can push into her deeper.

“Baby girl,” I murmur against her hot skin. “You're so fucking tight... You're amazing, you know that? And mine, baby girl. All mine.”

“Yours,” she echoes, her hand raking through my hair, her fist twisting around thick strands, forcing my head back so I meet her gaze. “And you're mine.”

“Forever.”

“Forever,” she gasps as I thrust into her a little harder. “Fuck, Ro... Do that again.”

I pull her against me hard, my dick pushing into her, her pussy like a vice as always. She hisses against my mouth.

“Again,” she demands, her hands tightening their grip on my hair.

“Lex, I'm so fucking close...”

“Cum then,” she purrs in my ear. “Cum for me...”

“Touch yourself,” I groan. “Cum on my dick, Lex. Please...”

She's the only woman I've ever begged. The only woman I will ever beg for. As her hand slides down my chest and between our bodies, I wonder for what must be the millionth time, how I got so damn lucky. My amazing, beautiful, intelligent Alexia, who challenges me every day, who never gives up fighting for me, for us, for herself. Not many women would put up with the crap that comes with my career, but she takes it in her stride and I'm in awe of her.

I will spend the rest of my life in awe of her. I will spend every waking moment being the best damn husband I can possibly be.

She moans against my mouth and I can feel her hand twitching between us.

“I got you, Lex, don't hold back on me.”

Her eyes flicker open, as she pinches her clit and hisses loudly. I can feel her getting wetter, my dick sliding in and out of her with more ease for a second until her walls clamp down hard and she trembles in my arms. I press my mouth to hers, swallowing her low moan as her pussy pulses around my dick, drawing me closer to my own release.

Her fingers in my hair soften their grip, gently scratching my head as I surge into her, my hand gripping her ass to the point where I'm about to leave a mark. But I can't help myself, I thrust into her, pull her down onto my dick as I chase down my release.

She whispers in my ear as I cum, her words causing me to cry out as I empty inside her. “Yours, Ro. Make me yours.”

I crumple against her, my face buried in her messy hair as she strokes the back of my neck. My dick slides out of her and I ease her leg from my waist. I go to roll onto my back, but she stops me, holding me to her as she cups my face and kisses me softly.

Her ring hand rests on my chest and I watch her eyes shine as she stares at the ring again.

“Tell me, baby girl,” I tilt her chin up with my finger.

“How did I get so lucky?”

I chuckle. “I ask myself the same thing every day.”

“From pancakes to diamonds eh?” She grins up at me.

“A logical progression, I think.”

“Perhaps.”

“Would you rather I swapped out the champagne for chocolate milkshakes?”

She giggles and then squirms out of my arms. “The champagne!”

I laugh as she bounds out of the bed and runs naked back out to the kitchen. I listen as she pops the cork and curses as she inevitably spills some before it gets to the glasses. And then her feet, padding back to the bedroom, glasses in hand. She hands me a glass before clambering back onto the bed. I shift up to sitting, opening my arms for her to curl against me.

“To you,” I toast.

“Why not to us?”

“You make us, baby girl.”

The blush rises from her neck to her cheeks as she ducks her head down to avoid my gaze.

“To you,” I repeat.

“To you,” she responds.

Fin

#roman reigns #romanreigns #roman reigns fic #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns imagine #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic

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obstinaterixatrix · 2 years ago

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oh I’m pretty sure this is within the bounds of 3 block rule. so I thought both friends bringing their partners were engaged but it turns out I was thinking about a different friend and I fell into a faux pas by going like. oh. you two aren’t…? anyway I like my friend’s fiance—ok I’m just gonna use A for engaged and B for not engaged—I like A’s fiance, I don’t know him well but even though he’s obviously more on the shy/quiet side he’ll participate in conversation (especially when there are less people) and he has clear likes and dislikes. like he has charm points, the guy really likes kirby, A mentioned both of them wanting to go out of their way to get a kirby for each room (note to self pick up a kirby plush if the chance presents itself) (note to self ask A to take pics of current kirby collection) therefore when he’s brought to our high school pal get togethers I’m like yeah I consider him a participant of the group. B’s boyfriend is there. he just exists. he’s polite and he has not committed any Guest Crimes. I don’t care for him. the experience I have with him is him being more extroverted than fiance but less engaged (wait LMAO) (sorry B) and aside from the engagement part being a sore spot (B’s been with him for 7 years) I don’t think bare minimum of ‘no murderable offense’ is enough to endear him to an outside group. he is JUST there. he eats food and exist. I don’t care for that. I think if you’re going to show up to someone’s get-together as a partner (or general plus-one guest) there is a minimum threshold of effort that goes into incorporating yourself into the social circle of your partner for that time. The goal doesn’t doesn’t have to be *make* friends but it’s like spice girls said. actually this might be the advent of ending long-term relationships, another friend is going to break up with his boyfriend of 7 years in the next four months. He (boyfriend) is also nothing to me. Oh, but this isn’t *just* me being biased against (male) partners, I hardly ever talk to a different friend’s husband and he’s fine because when we do end up in each other’s vicinity he’s a spirited conversationalist, I wouldn’t consider him a friend (if only due to time spent/overall familiarity) but I can appreciate the openness and effort. Basically what I’m saying is if you’re going to exist around a partner’s friend either *actually* show up or don’t show up at all. I don’t care for an extra mouth to feed if that’s all you’re going to be. also, I am biased against male partners. If you’re going to be a guy and date my friend then ‘not bad’ isn’t good enough, step up or get out. Tsk. Speaking of, a friend’s sister (who I would consider a friend) started dating someone and I hope they break up soon he fucking sucks. If you stay with your partner’s family for several days and don’t offer any help whatsoever that’s a murderable offense. for context all of my major social circles have been like 80% women and 5% men and 15% Gender™️ and I went to a women’s college for undergrad and grad school so I’m used to any guy coming into my life being vetted by at minimum 10 women before I learn his name and/or being able to show up in that kind of space comfortably and/or being trans. Anyway happy new year I hope my friends break up with their boyfriends and I hope my friends marry their fiances.

#my ramblings

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moonlightdreamzz · 4 years ago

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empathetic — woozi

all you want, is for jihoon to care.

you always knew your boyfriend was more of an onion, and not a sunflower. what you mean by that, is that he had many layers to him, and he could not be pulled easily. if you wanted to peel the different pieces off of him, you had to work for it, but quite frankly you think you deserved a lot more than he had given you in the past couple of days.

you considered your body to be strong, but weak at the same time. you caught disease quite quickly such as colds, flu’s, and infections, but you also whooped its ass everytime. oddly enough, one of the things you looked forward to when you finally met your match was having someone to coo over your warm temperatures. a man who would surprise you with warm soups and extra blankets, who would also lay in bed with you no matter what was going on and give you kisses.

lee jihoon was not that man, which you knew, but you had no idea it would be this bad.

you were a mess - definitely not the prettiest sight you could conjure of yourself. you don’t remember the last time you saw your thick hair, which was never tamable on a good day, but especially for this past week had you just not been feeling any of your usual trials and tribulations of trying to figure out what to do with yourself. your bonnet had found itself halfway off your head from your tossing and turning through the night.

if you had the energy, you would crochet your hair. quick and easy timing, but also a cute look. jihoon also appreciated it on you, and you unfortunately lived to please him.

you weren’t dying at the moment, but you did have some concerning symptoms - a cough. so, symptom. of course your boyfriend did not bat an eye whatsoever for the past week as he scrambled through your home silently like the cute little mouse he was.

today is no different, but still your patience has completely ran thin. the penthouse you two shared was large enough so that whenever he wanted to hide from you, he could, and you knew that’s exactly what he was doing at this current moment.

when he finally walks into your shared bedroom ever so quietly, you can tell he was praying you were asleep.

“why are you hiding from me?” you question immediately. you don’t have much on, as you always got hot so easily. no shirt covered your body, just panties, but you and jihoon had been together so long that he was immune to your bare flesh. now that you think about it, you can’t remember the last time the two of you made any kind of love. luckily you didn’t need sex all the time in order to be satisfied, but jihoon wasn’t giving you anything at all.

“huh?” he responds quickly - proof you were right. you hated how cute he was, especially when he had what you referred to as his “morning puff”. he always had a chunky, sweet little face, but when he woke up from long nights in the studio, it was extra squishy and normally you would enjoy kissing all over his adorable face, but not today. you were upset.

“have you not heard me coughing for the past week?”

he turns to face you now. you’re sure he had a flashback to the many arguments where you begged him to look at you in your eyes. at least he cared about something you’ve said to him in the past.

“i have.” is all he says. that’s really all he has to say?

“and you haven’t done shit about it?”

“why are you cursing at me?”

“because I’m tired of the non-chalant attitude.”

he sighs out loud. that was his way of telling you he had better things to do. even so, he crawls on top of the bed and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“relax, baby.” he encourages. “what do you want? i’ll order your favorite.”

this is what you referred to as the attempt. a very poor one, but an attempt never the less.

would it be wrong of you to ask for something home made? would that make you selfish? all of the other girlfriends gagged about whenever any minor issues went on with them, how the boys would cater to their every need like they were the queen of the entire world or something. why didn’t jihoon treat you that way? was he too comfortable?

“y/n?” he speaks, knowing you completely ignored his question in exchange for what if’s.

“nevermind.” you mutter, laying back on your California king.

“don’t do that.” he sighs. he’s irritated with you for sure, but what do you care?

“do you even care?” you question. “like seriously?”

“if I didn’t care I wouldn’t be sitting in this house with you. and I just told you I would buy you whatever you want. i don’t know what more you want me to do.”

“i want you to act like my boyfriend of a million years. i want you to coddle me and give me kisses and offer to wash my hair.”

“in what world is anybody allowed to touch your hair?” he questions seriously as his eyebrows scrunch together in completely confusion and irritation.

“does it matter if I would say no?”

he chuckles, but not in a way where he thinks you’re cute. you’re only making the situation worse in his eyes. “do you want the food or not?”

“do you remember when we first started dating?” you stand up promptly, your thighs rubbing together as you get closer to him.

“y/n, why do you expect me to be the exact same way I was when I first met you?”

“why do people have this weird belief that once you start dating for a certain amount of years that love has to slow down?”

“so you’re saying I don’t love you?”

“i’m saying i have been clearly sick for the past week and all you’ve been is cooped up in your studio like a damn crack addict. what I’m saying is, we are in a relationship but you don’t even care to ask me am I okay. i’m not dating you to still feel like I’m alone!”

“you do realize the only person who pays bills in this nice little house is me right? how else can I do that if not ‘cooped up in my studio like a crack addict’” he quotes directly from you.

“do you realize that you’re the one who told me I didn’t have to pay a bill in this house?”

“whatever.”

he tries to walk away, but you know it’s only because he hates to argue, especially recently. it was something about it that really pained him.

“baby.” you lower your tone from all the unnecessary yelling. you touch his hand, but he snatches it away so hard that you flinch and fall to the ground. “baby...” you whisper faintly, hoping that he’ll care. for once in a long time will he just care. but he doesn’t. with his pajamas still on does he snatch his keys and walk straight out of your - well, his apartment. he slams the door too.

you honestly couldn’t recall how much time had passed since he departed from your home. usually when the two of you fought, you could easily find ways to distract yourself while also ignoring your mild heartbreak from his actions. but for some reason, this time, you couldn’t stop thinking this may have been the end.

that was usually the case when you felt like someone was falling out of love with you when you did absolutely nothing to deserve it.

you tried to listen to music. you tried to cook, but you sucked terribly at cooking Korean food and that’s all you had in your possession. you tried to sleep, but with everything running through your mind, that was impossible. so here you were, stuck with your thoughts.

you also still had the terribly annoying cough.

you didn’t have many friends here. the only people who checked on you were vernon, coups, and mingyu. you were expecting to get a call from one of them any second now.

like clock work, your phone is ringing. quite frankly you weren’t prepared to see Vernon’s name pop up on your phone simply because he was the one who called the least, but you didn’t mind. he always got you turnt whenever you were down, and even when you were fighting with woozi he didn’t suddenly treat you like you didn’t exist. he was always a neutral party.

“hello?” you say softly - your voice hoarse from the constant coughing you were doing.

“hey.” his voice speaks softly, “you alright?”

“yeah I’m fine, just not feeling my best. i have this annoying ass cough and it’s not going away and I’m also alone so, just fine.” you chuckle while burying yourself deeper into the bed if that was even possible.

“damn, you been smoking that good?”

“unlike you, I only smoke on special occasions vernon.”

“yeah whatever. how’s woozi? haven’t been able to get ahold of him.”

“he’s fine...I think. he’s been trying to hide from me but that’s been the norm lately if I’m being honest.”

“wait, you said you were alone.” vernon remembers, “we’ve been off all week where is your boyfriend?”

“you know...being himself.” you and vernon may have not spoke as much, but when you did talk to him, everything flowed out. every secret. it should be like this with woozi, but. “maybe it’s my fault.” you sigh, scratching your scalp from outside your bonnet, “i kind of...asked for a lot I guess.”

“like?”

“well, I’m not feeling well. i just felt upset because it seemed like he was purposely trying to avoid me so I wouldn’t have the chance to ask him to do anything for me. and the thing is, I wasn’t going to ask for anything but a lousy fucking hug - a cuddle. the bare minimum. i would have even taken a no but to be avoided? it hurt my feelings and we fought and—ugh. he stormed out the house and I have no idea where he is and I want to call him but truthfully what did I do wrong vernon? lately I’ve been feeling like I’m in a relationship with myself and I know we can be better than this. woozi used to be the sweetest little baby. he may have been hard to others, but he opened up for me. i feel shut out.”

you feel so much better getting all of that out, even though you know your boyfriend may have not appreciated the sentiment.

you know vernon listened to every single word and and would come back with some heartfelt advice.

“just give it time y/n. i can’t speak on jihoon like I am him, but if there’s one thing I know? it’s that you are the only person he truly loves that doesn’t share his bloodline. of course he loves us, but you - he opens up to you. he’s allowed you to see him. maybe there’s something going on. or maybe he just didn’t know what to do. just let him come back to you and see what happens.”

“thank you vernon. forreal.” you don’t know why his words affected you so much and made you feel such a heavy weight of guilt in the part where you held your boyfriend so deeply - your heart, but you did.

more hours had passed, and still no sign of woozi. you even tossed your pride away and called him, only to be sent straight to voicemail. you must have really irritated him, but you still didn’t feel sorry. you didn’t move your pride aside that much.

you did feel somber though, considering how much you loved him even through how he had been acting lately. and without him in your life, there was no reason for you to be here - in Korea. you didn’t want to end things. you just wanted to feel loved.

you still haven’t gotten out the bed except when you needed to pee. YouTube and funny clips had been keeping your company. maybe it was because of boredom, but things began to get darker and darker in your home. you were fading into a bitter sweet slumber. regardless, it’s what you needed. maybe your cough would subdue.

jihoon is quiet as a mouse as always when he walks inside, hands full of multiple things. all day had your words rang through his mind that was already full of so many things. had he really been making you feel so worthless? like you weren’t the most important person for his soul other than his family? actually, you were his family. there was never a day where he felt like he deserved you, but the minute the two of you kissed for the first time did he know that he would do whatever he had to, to keep you forever.

so when did he stop? he kind of knew he hadn’t been his best, but he didn’t know why. it was as if he was doing it on purpose, but not because of something you did. lately, it had just been so hard to keep up with everything in his life. all of the schedules seventeen had. and in between, as he was one of the frequent producers for the group, there were so many deadlines he had to meet he just felt so overwhelmed.

but he heard you coughing, and he was so worried. even so, he didn’t ask you what was wrong. why didn’t he ask you - his baby - what’s wrong? especially after it was day three and the cough was not improving? any other man who would practically rip his limbs off to be with you, would have been catering to your every need. they would have gave you all the kisses you needed, would have given you a full body massage, and offered to wash your hair even knowing that the answer was going to be no.

but he didn’t.

when he left, he was so angry. but not at you, at himself. vernon was the first person he called as he knew that while the two of you didn’t talk often, that he was the one who knew how to get your exact feelings. he hated how much of a wimp he sounded like when he had to bargain a song in exchange for vernon to call you. vernon declined and called you anyway.

to hear you on the phone, telling vernon that you felt as if you weren’t loved. feeling like you were in a relationship with yourself? that broke him. so, he called another one of his members who he knew would guide him into the right direction - mingyu.

“ill order everything, hyung. all you have to do is pick everything up. what you need to do right now, is practice your apology. oh, and pick up some cough medicine for her.”

so he did. his little body struggled to get everything inside, but he figured you would be asleep at this time. when you were bored, you had a tendency to doze off.

his instructions were to set everything up real nice on a table and serve it to you as if you were on a date, but woozi knew you better than that. he knew all you wanted to do was eat in bed and go right back to sleep. and talk.

he walks through the slim hallway that leads into your shared bedroom, and he was right. you were sleeping. the tv shined on your beautiful skin that he loved to place his cheek on whenever he felt any negative or positive emotion. he wasn’t sure what was on the tv. you probably weren’t either. you both loved to put on random movies and shows and talk about how much they sucked.

he approaches you gently - afraid that any little noise would startle you. he places everything on the fluffy sheets; the roses, your meal, your medicine, and the usb with the song he had been saving for you all lined up in orderly fashion. your bonnet is falling off your head as always, so he adjusts it. you had a pet peeve about that.

you were so beautiful. the most beautiful person he had ever met in his entire life. and you loved him. you - the brightest star in the galaxy and the sweetest soul chose him out of all of the people you had attempting to steal your heart. he couldn’t let another second go by without fixing this.

“baby.” he whispers. his thumb caresses your ear gently. he always wanted to be this guy. the hopeless romantic, always knew what to do guy, but girls never wanted him. he was always too short, too boring, all of the bad things. you never felt that way though. you always told him he was the perfect size for you. that he wasn’t boring, it was just that people never wanted to take the time to get to know him.

you moved slightly, but he knew he had just only scraped whatever dream you were currently in. he had to try a little harder to return you back to the world. his lips find themselves on your sweet face, just as you do to him every morning. little by little is he painting his love on you until you finally begin to stir.

“are you a murderer?” are the first words you speak.

you were always so hilarious, even without trying. he knew that was a genuine question no matter how funny the delivery was.

“no. i hope not.” he responds.

he can see you recognize his voice from the way you release the breathe he didn’t even know you were holding. woozi expected you to push him off you the minute you realized it was him, but you didn’t.

“hi baby.” you whisper, pulling him into you.

“hi baby.” he repeats, inhaling your sweet scent. it always made him feel like he was in heaven.

you pull back, cuffing his chubby face into his hands. if there was one thing about your fights with jihoon, it was that it wasn’t hard to make up. a simple look in each others eyes was enough to make up for everything. it was such a toxic trait, but it worked out.

“wait.” you breathe out as you notice everything behind your boyfriend. “ji...”

“it’s nothing, y/n.” he sighs, moving back so he can have a full view of you. “it’s what I should be giving you every fucking day. you are my queen. you are the only thing that is keeping me sane with this lifestyle.”

“everyday would drive even me crazy, ji.” you giggle, “you know that’s not what this is about. it’s just, I know how we used to be and I know how we are now. i don’t want us to get so comfortable with each other that we forget why we are together. you know that happened to my parents and I want to be with you forever.”

“i know.” all of sudden he feels it - the feeling he’s been feeling for the past couple of weeks whenever something bad happens. his whole body feels sick. he hasn’t told you about it because he thought it would go away, but it hasn’t. it seems as if this is going to be the worse one as it does involve the love of his life.

“hey.” you sit up, throwing one of his shirts that laid free on the bed. “what’s wrong babe? i’m here. i’m right here.”

you had never seen him like this before. you knew there was no such thing as a person who didn’t have internal issues, but this seemed like something that had been wanting to boil over for a while. you knew what severe anxiety looked like as you suffered from it. this was it.

“i don’t know, y/n.” he breathes out shakily. “this has been...happing lately.”

“why didn’t you tell me? hm?”

“i don’t know. i don’t know anything other than that I love you. and that I’m sorry.” he seems to be calming down from your touch. had he known this was all he needed, all the pain he suffered would have never taken place. he should have known though. you were his angel after all.

“we tell each other everything, baby.” you remind him as you begin to place gentle kisses onto his neck. “never forget that. there is nothing we can’t get through together.”

“i know.” is all he can say - your lips were too much of a distraction for him especially when he hasnt felt them in so long. he always craved you, but the two of you always took a lot of breaks. your relationship was much deeper than your love making no matter how addicted the two of you were to eachother.

you want to get right into it. you want to throw him on the bed, and ride every ounce of anxiety your boyfriend has right off, and then you want to eat your food, take your medicine, and drift into what you know will be the best sleep you’ve gotten in a while. but you two had to talk. everything needed to be squashed.

“ji, what can I do to fix this? i don’t like the way I’ve been feeling. and I know you don’t either.”

“you are perfect. you always have been. it’s me, but I promise I’ll do better. i’ll get everything under control.”

“you mean we will get everything under control. honestly baby, let’s not even use that terminology. we will learn to overcome this. anxiety is completely normal. you just can’t let it control you okay? and we have to communicate. don’t be afraid to show me any parts of you especially when you’ve seen my literal insides.” you joke, just to see his smile. he does, and it’s so bright. your foreheads lean into eachother immediately - natural just like your love.

“i love you.” he whispers.

“i love you.” you repeat. the two of you tried your best to not add too, to that sentence, as it meant in exchange for the other ones love and that’s not what was going on here. no matter what, the two of you loved each other. even if one stopped.

woozi goes back to buisness immediately, knowing you two were better now. his hands remove the covers that covered your body, and his tounge finds itself on your neck - his favorite place that’s not inside you.

“you feeling better?” he questions, still attacking you.

“i think this will distract me for a bit.” you giggle

“i’ll make it it all go away. you know I will.” are his final words before he lays on top of you, sliding his shirt off of your body with ease.

you were in for a long night. and the two of you still were in need of a conversation about what he was going through, but you knew what the both of you needed in this moment. you needed to feel each other again.

#seventeen #kpop black reader #kpop ambw #kpop poc #poc kpop #ambw kpop #woozi imagine #seventeen imagine #seventeen x poc reader #woozi angst #woozi fluff

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mytwilightimagines13 · 4 years ago

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Memories from the past (Part Fourteen)(Caius Volturi)

Masterlist

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Word count: 2421

The beasts within Caius and Athenodora calmed down once they knew the venom was in Xandria’s bloodstream. Caius grabbed his robe he had tossed over a chair and quickly put it on, calling for Jane and Alec. They appeared shortly and Caius informed them of what was occurring at the moment. “Inform my brothers and sister of Xandria transformation. And make sure Felix and Demetri stay near.” Was all he said before closing the door again, helping his wife clean their little mate up. Dora put her in a comfortable red dress, trying to give their mate as much comfort as was possible. Caius quickly put on his boxers again and tossed the robe again. Dora put on a less sexy night gown type of dress. It may have taken the couple about five minutes to do all of this but the first screams escaped Xandria’s lips. Their hearts broke and soon Caius had curled her against his bare chest, hoping the contact would perhaps sooth her pain, or calm her down at the bare minimum. Dora quickly followed, sitting beside her husband and holding her little mates hands in hers. And they stayed like that for the following three days, holding her close, slightly flinching at her screams and trying to sooth her as much as possible.

Their bites send me over the edge even more and a warm feeling nestled in my neck, a satisfied smile on my face while I laid down on my back, enjoying the high of what had just happened. I finally made love to my mates and it was the best and most wonderful feeling in the world. Although the high was slowly wearing off as the warmth in my neck increased. It got hotter. Uncomfortable now. Too hot. Much, much too hot. Like grabbing the wrong end of a curling iron. My automatic response was to try and get whatever was on my neck to hit it off. But there was nothing on my neck. The heat was inside me. The burning grew—rose and peaked and rose again until it surpassed anything I’d ever felt. I felt the pulse behind the fire raging now in my chest and realized that I’d found my heart, just in time to wish I never had. This felt like pure torture. The fire blazed hotter and I screamed. I wanted to move my arms, to try to end myself and the fire within me, but I couldn’t move. My body was being kept in an iron grip impossible for me to escape from. I started to beg for someone to kill me now, not wanting to live a second longer in the pain. “Shh, my love.” I hear Caius whisper in my ear. “You can do this, amore.” Athenodora said, her voice seeming to come from besides Caius. My body felt heavy and another scream escaped my lips and hot tears run down my face. The flames nestled in my chest and engulfed my heart. Burying me in the flames that were chewing their way out from my heart now, spreading with impossible pain through my shoulders and stomach, scalding their way up my throat, licking at my face. “Please, please. I don’t want, it hurts too much.” I cried out. My mind was unbearably clear—sharpened by the fierce pain and I could hear them clearly. “We know, we know. Shh. You are doing great. It will be over soon.” Caius whispered, his voice cracking softly. I had never heard him like this, so fragile. He was a warrior, a king yet now he sounded like a man in despair. I tried to stay strong, to fight against the pain that soared through my veins, changing every cell one at a time. But I had no idea how long I could manage to stay quiet and fight this fire. All I wanted was to die. To never have been born. The whole of my existence did not outweigh this pain. Wasn’t worth living through it for one more heartbeat. Let me die, let me die, let me die. And, for a never-ending space, that was all there was. Just the fiery torture, and my soundless shrieks, pleading for death to come. Nothing else, not even time. So that made it infinite, with no beginning and no end. One infinite moment of pain. The only change came when suddenly, impossibly, my pain was doubled. The lower half of my body was suddenly on fire, too. I could not help the scream that erupted from deep within me and I tried to curl my back, trying to keep the heat in my upper body, but to no avail. The endless burn raged on. It could have been seconds or days, weeks or years, but, eventually, time came to mean something again. Three things happened together, grew from each other so that I didn’t know which came first: time restarted and I got stronger. Though the fire did not decrease one tiny degree—in fact, I began to develop a new capacity for experiencing it, a new sensitivity to appreciate, separately, each blistering tongue of flame that licked through my veins—I discovered that I could think around it. I could remember why I shouldn’t scream. I could remember the reason why I’d committed to enduring this unendurable agony. I could remember that, though it felt impossible now, there was something that might be worth the torture. I could feel strong arms surrounding me while two delicate hands held onto mine. I knew I should keep my screams in for them. For my mates. For my beautiful Dora and my handsome Caius. And so I did. I kept quiet and tried to endure it as much as I could. To anyone watching me, there would be no change. But for me, as I struggled to keep the screams and thrashing locked up inside my body, where they couldn’t hurt anyone else, it

felt like I’d gone from being tied to the stake as I burned, to gripping that stake to hold myself in the fire. I had just enough strength to lie there unmoving while I was charred alive. My hearing got clearer and clearer, and I could count the frantic, pounding beats of my heart to mark the time. I could count the shallow breaths that gasped through my teeth. I could count the low, even breaths that came from Caius as he gently inhaled my scent, trying to keep himself as calm as possible. I could hear Dora’s steady breaths as well and I slowly felt that she had moved her head to rest on my belly, curling around my legs, trying to keep me as still as possible. These moved slowest, so I concentrated on them. They meant the most time passing. More even than a clock’s pendulum, those breaths pulled me through the burning seconds toward the end. I continued to get stronger, my thoughts clearer. When new noises came, I could listen. “You are doing amazing, my love.” Caius whispered and I felt his lips press against my temple. “We love you so much. And we are so grateful for what you do for us.” Dora said as she pulled my wrist towards her lips, pressing her lips against it. It calmed me down but something wasn’t right. Normally their cool skin cooled me down, yet I could only feel their touch without a difference in temperature. I wanted to response but I stayed paralyzed, too afraid that I would start screaming again or trash around. Not while I had the strength to hold myself still. Through all this, the racking fire went right on burning me. But there was so much space in my head now. Room to ponder their conversation, room to remember what had happened, room to look ahead to the future, with still endless room left over to suffer in. Also room to worry. Would I be able to do it? Be a vampire? Make them proud? Or will they regret their decision? I quickly shook those thoughts away. It was too late to dwell on actions from the past. I went back to counting their breaths to mark the time. Ten thousand, nine hundred forty-three breaths later Dora spoke again. “How much longer?” she asked. “It won’t be long now,” Caius told her. How long? Couldn’t they at least say it aloud for me? Was that too much to ask? How many more seconds would I burn? Ten thousand? Twenty? Another day— eighty-six thousand, four hundred? More than that? “I never thought it was possible but she is becoming even more breathtakingly beautiful than before.” Dora said and I felt her slender fingers gently caress my cheek and her fingers gently followed the curves of my lower lip. If I wasn’t in so much pain I would have gently bit down, just to tease her. “I am afraid others will think the same way. If one of them as much point a finger at her in a way that displeases me I will not stand for myself.” Caius growled softly. Dora chuckled. “Neither will I.” Their words gave me hope that maybe I didn’t resemble the charcoal briquette I felt like. It seemed as if I must be just a pile of charred bones by now. Every cell in my body had been razed to ash. “I still cannot believe we are finally complete, after all those centuries.” Caius said, his voice so soft and full of love. “I know, my love. And I promise I won’t go back to the tower. I will pick up my duties again.” Dora said. “You will?” Caius’ voice was filled with amazement and admiration. “I will. I am sorry I distanced myself from you for centuries. I- I had just lost all hope of finding Xandria. But you pulled me through and now I want to repay you both. Give you both my time and energy and love.” I felt a slight movement and Dora’s head lifted off of my belly. I heard the distant sound of vampire lips colliding in a passionate kiss. I never knew she had distanced herself from Caius. Maybe that is why he had grown cruel according to the stories I was told in the two weeks I have been here. They whispered things in ancient greek to each other, but it sounded very soft and lovingly that I was almost certain they told each other how much they loved one another. A small smile made its way around

my lips. “She is smiling, Caius. Look.” Dora said. “You are almost there, my love. Hang on.” Caius whispered and I felt Dora place her head back on my belly, a small sigh of content escaping her lips. I heard the quiet buzz of the light hanging from the ceiling. I heard the faint wind brushing against the outside of the castle, and I could even feel the soft breeze against my skin from the opened balcony doors. Although, sadly, it did nothing to soothe the fires within me. I could hear everything. I could hear tourists and locals chatting, children laughing. Merchants trying to sell their wares. Singers and musicians trying to entertain the crowds. I counted the seconds along with the rhythm of the music. Twenty-one thousand, nine hundred seventeen and a half seconds later, the pain changed. On the good-news side of things, it started to fade from my fingertips and toes. Fading slowly, but at least it was doing something new. This had to be it. The pain was on its way out.… And then the bad news. The fire in my throat wasn’t the same as before. I wasn’t only on fire, but I was now parched, too. Dry as bone. So thirsty. Burning fire, and burning thirst… Also bad news: The fire inside my heart got hotter. How was that possible? My heartbeat, already too fast, picked up—the fire drove its rhythm to a new frantic pace. “Dora, listen.” Caius said as he heart my heartbeat picking up in a frantic pace. “Finally.” Dora breathed out in relief. The fire retreated from my palms, leaving them blissfully pain-free and cool. But it retreated to my heart, which blazed hot as the sun and beat at a furious new speed. The loudest sound in the room was my frenzied heart, pounding to the rhythm of the fire. “It is almost over, my love.” Caius whispered, holding me even closer to his chest. My relief at his words was overshadowed by the excruciating pain in my heart. My wrists were free, though, and my ankles. The fire was totally extinguished there. The room went silent besides the jack-hammering of my heart as they all stopped breathing for a second in response. I considered speaking for a moment, and when I opened my mouth to call out to them then the fire ripped hotter still through my chest, draining in from my elbows and knees. I screamed once more. My heart took off, beating like helicopter blades, the sound almost a single sustained note; it felt like it would grind through my ribs. The fire flared up in the center of my chest, sucking the last remnants of the flames from the rest of my body to fuel the most scorching blaze yet. The pain was enough to stun me, to break through my iron grip on the stake. My back arched, bowed as if the fire was dragging me upward by my heart. My hands broke free from Dora’s grip and I was scratching at my chest, trying to rip out my heart. Caius and Dora quickly held onto one hand each, preventing me from possibly hurting myself in the process. It became a battle inside me—my sprinting heart racing against the attacking fire. Both were losing. The fire was doomed, having consumed everything that was combustible; my heart galloped toward its last beat. The fire constricted, concentrating inside that one remaining human organ with a final, unbearable surge. One final and agonizing scream left my lips and my entire back arched as my head fell backwards. The surge was answered by a deep, hollow-sounding thud. My heart stuttered twice, and then thudded quietly again just once more. There was no sound. No breathing. Not even mine. For a moment, the absence of pain was all I could comprehend. And then I opened my eyes and gazed above me in wonder.

#caius volturi #athenodora volturi #volturi #volturi imagine #vampire #twilight imagine #twilight

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ahkaahshi · 4 years ago

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12:27 AM [kuroo tetsurou x reader]

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem reader (platonic relationship)

genre: fluff and angst

warning(s): swearing, brief mentions of alcohol consumption

word count: 2.8k

overview: you go on one, final late night food run with your best friend to commemorate your last evening in tokyo

notes: as stated above, the reader and kuroo’s relationship here is purely platonic. it just felt right. also, this one’s a bit more dialogue-heavy than usual, but it’s intentional :) hope you enjoy!

At 12:27 AM, Kuroo’s standing in the kitchen, poring over an open cupboard of food—none of which seems to fulfill his cravings. Tapping the toes of his house slippers against the tiled floor, he sends a glance over at where you’re sitting on the couch, watching the movie he’d put on with rapt attention. His attempts at successfully blocking out thoughts of what’s to come tomorrow are foiled once more when his gaze settles on the luggage waiting patiently in the entryway.

“Hey, (f/n),” he calls out to you, shutting the cabinets in front of him and turning away from them. The eyebrow you raise at him expectantly has him continuing, “Whaddya say to going on one, last late-night food run in the city with your old pal?”

With a snicker, you toss the mountains of blankets off your body and stand up as you say, “You act as if today’s my last day on the planet, Tetsu.”

“Seriously, though, who knows when we’ll be able to do this again?” he wonders, “Might as well live like it’s your last day on the planet, even if it’s just for a night, right?”

You shake your head as you pull on an old Nekoma hoodie out of your backpack that matches the one he’s wearing. “Quit it, dumbass; you’re gonna make me all sentimental.”

A grin spreads across his lips and he gives you a playful shake once the two of you have stepped into your shoes and left his home. It warms your heart but shatters it at the same time, since you’re painfully aware of the fact that tonight will be the last time you see it in person for what could be months. And if his words hadn’t already made you a bit emotional, the drive through Tokyo would’ve done the trick.

He rolls the windows of his car down, letting in the cool, nighttime air that whistles past as the vehicle picks up speed. In an effort he wants to seem as spontaneous as possible, he plays music from a playlist the two of you had made together back when you were in high school, shouting and dancing along to the lyrics of every song with you with an enthusiasm that has you doubling over in your seat with laughter.

Every stoplight gives other drivers and pedestrians buzzing around the bustling downtown area the opportunity to shoot you judgmental looks or those of entertainment, but you’re too busy living in the moment with him that you barely notice or even care, for that matter. You don’t know where he’s taking you, but you don’t bother to ask. Instead, you find yourself lost in admiring the dazzling array of lights passing you by during your drive through the lively city. Knowing you’ll be in a new one by this time tomorrow has you gazing upon everything you’d simply passed by before without a second thought with a newfound appreciation and lingering nostalgia.

Eventually, after Kuroo’s impressed you by maneuvering his car into a tighter parking spot than you thought he could fit in, you find your destination is a small restaurant tucked away in one of the back alleys aglow with neon signs. Though it’s packed to the brim with other patrons enjoying a late-night meal, there’s plenty of conversation between you and your friend to fill the time you spend waiting for a table.

Once you’re inside, you bask in the warmth heavy with the delicious smell of fresh food as the two of you sit together and reminisce over steaming bowls of ramen. “You know one thing I’ll never forget?” Kuroo begins, fishing out a few plump noodles with his chopsticks. You glance over at him expectantly while you blow on the broth in your spoon and he chuckles before adding, “The look on Lev’s face when he hit you in the back of the head during warmups and you gave him the coldest stare I’ve ever seen.”

“I felt so bad when I realized it was him, though, ‘cause I thought it was you!” you defend.

Kuroo’s unoccupied hand flies to his chest to complete the feigned look of shock on his face. “And you were gonna look at me like that if it was?”

“You were always aiming for me, Tetsu.”

“You were always on the court!”

“Helping Coach toss and keeping hitters like you from fucking up your ankles by coming down on stray volleyballs, you asshole.”

Kuroo shrugs and comments, “I never hit you hard, though,” and moves another serving of noodles to his lips. “Just wanted to keep our beloved manager on her toes is all.”

With an incredulous scoff, you retort, “Yeah, you did that, alright. And even well into uni, too.”

There’s a pause in your conversation as you both take a moment to enjoy your food before Kuroo questions, “Could you please submit your evidence to the court?”

“Halloween,” you state, (e/c) eyes laser focused on his own, hazel ones. He’s narrowing them, as if he’s trying to remember the event in question, so you help him out by continuing, “You and Kou were insistent on coming with me to a raging house party that night. The two of you got so, annoyingly drunk that you were laughing at the top of your lungs like hyenas about videos of pets dressed up in costumes at three in the morning.”

He raises a finger contemplatively. “I might’ve blacked out, but that does sound like something I’d do.”

“In that case, you probably forgot about all the noise complaints I got, then; and how the owner of the place came to scold me in person.”

A bashful grin forms on his lips at the memory you’ve reminded him of, and he concedes, “Alright, alright; we’ve both done a lot of stupid shit in the time we’ve known each other, so let’s just leave it at that. Besides, I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to remind you of the time you lost your bikini top in the ocean and were too mortified to move, so you made me swim in and get it, right?”

“This conversation is over,” you declare, face growing hot with embarrassment as a vivid image of the moment in question flashes across your mind.

As the two of you continue enjoying your delicious meals and reminiscing about other, more positive experiences you’ve shared together, you feel the knot that’s been settled in the pit of your stomach for what seems to be weeks now make itself known once more. In spite of your outward calmness and enthusiasm, you were starting to have trouble hiding your nervousness. The last thing you’d wanted was for anyone to notice and try to talk you out of your decision, but Kuroo’s far more perceptive than most and knows you well enough to understand what you’re thinking.

When the two of you finish your meals and find the strength to scoot out of your chairs, he notices the way you gaze longingly at your surroundings. He catches sight of the gentle glimmer of emotion in your eyes as you request that he drive you anywhere he wants—just to hold off on going back to his place for a bit longer. And each time he takes his eyes off the road ahead to cast a glance in your direction, he finds your attention fixated on all the buildings and people that pass by.

But it’s not until the two of you arrive at a nearly empty parking lot outside a large, sprawling park that he decides to bring up the question of what’s on your mind. “Hey, (f/n),” he says, making you turn on your heels to face him where you’d been standing a few feet away from his car, watching the twinkling lights in the distance. He looks so carefree, perched on the hood of his vehicle, hands shoved into the pockets of his black joggers, whereas you’re much more on edge, trying to keep your foot-tapping against the loose gravel to a minimum.

“Hmm?”

He purses his lips for a moment before answering slowly, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while—the last day we’d spend together. And it’s one of those things that you just can’t really prepare yourself for, no matter how hard you try to, y’know?” The muscles around your brow relax, and your expression becomes more curious upon being pulled out of your worrisome thoughts. “I know how I’m feeling, but how are you holding up?”

Your fingers interlace themselves as you bite the inside of your cheek. Even if you want to, there’s no bullshitting Kuroo. Not when he’s seen you in every state you can imagine and is often one to pick up on your feelings before you’re even aware they exist, though he often brings them to your attention with a more lighthearted approach than most would think appropriate to take. Doesn’t mean he cares any less, however; and you can see the genuine concern in his hazel eyes shining a paler color in the white moonlight.

“I’m excited,” you tell him. With the way your heart’s pounding in your chest, you’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear its pulse in your voice. Moving towards him to occupy the space on the hood beside him, you take a deep breath and look up at him. “But I’m terrified at the same time.” It’s instantaneous, the way you lean into his touch the moment he slings his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him. “Since we were kids, I was always talking about wanting to move to another country, remember?”

“I thought you just said that to make me sad whenever I pissed you off.”

You lightly swat his chest and argue, “Oh, be quiet.” But, before you can continue with what you were going to say, you find yourself focused on the words he’d spoken instead. “Wait, did you actually mean that?”

With a gentle chuckle, he shrugs. “Nah, I was joking.” The adam’s apple in his throat bobs when he turns his attention towards the sky and admits, “But I always did get a little sad whenever you mentioned it. Still do.” A moment of silence filled with the distant sounds of traffic and the chirping of insects ensues during which you watch your fingers toy with the aglets hanging off your hoodie. “I mean, come on, now; what kinda kid wants one of his best friends to move away when he knows how big the world is but how singular and small he is?”

“Tetsu,” you murmur softly, feeling your lip tremble with emotion and your eyes sting with oncoming tears, “You’ve always been there for me through, like, everything. Or, at least, it feels that way. Part of the reason why I’m so scared of leaving is because I’m gonna be all by myself, in a brand-new place, just thrown into the deep end of things and having to teach myself how to swim all over again. But another part of it is because I’m gonna be away from you. And even now, as an adult, I still don’t wanna move away from my best friend.”

He doesn’t even have to look at you or hear you sniffle to know you’re crying, and he tightens his grip around you, placing his other hand on your back. Appreciative of the gesture, you bury your face in the soft fabric of his sweatshirt and pull him into an embrace so you can hold onto him for a few, long moments that you wish didn’t have to end.

“Hey, it’s all good as long as you don’t forget about me once you make it big out there, okay?” His tone is teasing and lighthearted, as per usual, but you can hear the subtlest break in his voice that has more tears cascading down your cheeks and pooling in the creases of his sweater.

“I’m not gonna forget you—I could never—but, what if I can’t do it?” you whimper, “What if I get there and I hate the job, or I hate my coworkers, or I hate life over there? Then I’ll be stuck out there with no one.”

Rubbing your back gently, he assures you, “If worst comes to worst, you can come back home and regroup. You’ll always have a place to stay here. Well… unless I get super famous and end up being offered a job to travel around the world.” You can’t help but snicker at his comment, and neither can he. “Even if I’m not physically there, I’ll always be there in spirit. And don’t discount the possibility of me showing up at your doorstep, since we know I have a tendency to do that.”

“Like a stray cat I keep feeding.”

“Exactly. Maybe you’ll even get two if I can convince Kenma to come with me. We’ll have to see how long he can survive off his Switch alone.”

Your bodies both shake with laughter for a few moments before you pull away from each other, and his hands slide onto your shoulders to give them a firm squeeze. Keeping your head lowered for a moment, you drag the sleeves of your hoodie across your eyes to wipe up any stray tears you hadn’t left on his. When your gazes meet, though, the confidence in his almost entirely dissolves the knot that’s been building in your stomach for so long.

“Hey.” He shakes you gently, and you jokingly let your head roll about, eliciting more snickers from both of your mouths before looking at him expectantly and with your full attention. “Don’t let the worst-case scenario hold you back from something that could be great. You’re so quick to think about how likely the worst possible thing is to happen, but why can’t the best be just as likely?”

Playfully, you tease, “Wow, seems like someone’s trying to get me outta here,” with a smirk.

“(F/n),” he sighs, sending a long plume of steam upwards from his mouth. Giving you a firm pat on the arm, he admits, “I’m gonna miss you like hell. But this is what you’ve been wanting for so long, and I want you to do it so badly. Partly so I can say that I have a vacation property abroad, but mostly because you know I want the best for you, since you deserve it.”

Your lip quakes once again at his confession, but you manage to blink back the tears this time and crack a smile. “Okay. But if you’d better not get even the slightest bit sentimental or teary-eyed tomorrow or else I’m gonna cry like a bitch all the way through the airport.”

“Eyes will be dry as long as you promise to video call me the second you land so I can go on the cab ride with you and see the whole, cute apartment reveal thing that’s so trendy these days.”

A mixture of a giggle and a gentle sob leaves your mouth as you watch his figure distorted by your swimming vision rise from the hood of his car. You feel warm hands on your wrists pulling you up onto your feet before you’re ensconced in another tight hug while Kuroo rocks from one foot to the other.

“You’re gonna be fine.”

After giving you a squeeze hard enough to push the air out of your lungs, he releases his grasp around you and opens the door on the passenger’s side so you can climb in and retreat from the coldness of the night. “With all these emotions plus the food, I’m gonna knock out so fast when we get home,” you mumble with a soft sniffle, reaching for the packet of tissues in his glove compartment once he’s settled in the driver’s seat.

He scoffs and furrows his eyebrows at you as he sticks his keys in the ignition. “Who said you were sleeping tonight? You’ve got the whole plane ride tomorrow to do that.”

“Alright, you can’t blame me for being cranky, then.”

With a shake of the head, he shifts the car into reverse so he can back out of the parking lot and start the journey back to his home. While the music you’d been blasting earlier plays softly from the speakers, you rest your head on the door once more to watch your familiar surroundings breeze by outside.

“Tetsurou.” You glance over at him and his head of haphazardly styled hair that you’re sure won’t fit on the screen of your phone the next time you see him, and his eyes meet yours when he brings the car to a halt at a stop sign. “Thanks for spending my so-called last night on the planet with me.”

extra that didn’t make the cut: kuroo didn’t shed a tear at the airport until after he thought you’d left. but you’d actually just hid somewhere and caught him with watery eyes. you still video called him as soon as you landed, though.

when night falls masterlist ⭐︎ treat me to a coffee!

taglists (send an ask to be added to the when night falls taglist!)

when night falls: @aoyukai, @why-aminot-dead, @yamagucji, @toutorii, @shibayamasbae, @tsukkisbean, @devlovesiwa-channn, @captain-shittykawa, @ghblh, @postsfromthe6, @omibaby, @deerixiie

general: @dinablossom, @newfriendjen, @ohbyunhunn, @aftcrlust, @mister-future, @kyleclxin, @kac-chowsballs, @osamusmiya, @nit-sir-hc, @arixtsukki, @shinsurou, @ichorizaki, @dominikmagnus, @tendo-sxtori, @krynnza

kuroo: @lotsoffandomrecs, @heyhinata, @cuddlysoftbear

#haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo x reader #x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #reader insert #kuroo tetsurou #tw alcohol mention #fran writes hq!!#ahkaahshi//wnf

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mountainsluna · 4 years ago

Text

too good

request: angsty scenario with yeosang where he is the reader’s boyfriend and the reader is insecure they are not enough for him...a plot where yeosang spends less time with them and more with someone else...or maybe he seems less interested in you everyday or smth

pairing: yeosang x reader (ft. the other members)

genre: angst (a fluff ending)

word count: 1.9k

✩ [author’s note] ngl, there’s also a bit of san fluff within this because i’m whipped and i really miss him :(

✩ masterlist

✩ requests : check bio or masterlist ♡

You let out a heavy sigh as you threw your phone across the bed in disappointment. You had texted Yeosang nearly two hours ago asking if he wanted to hang out but he hadn’t responded.

He had been doing that a lot recently. Leaving you on read for hours on end only to decline your invites. It was Saturday, his day off but maybe he went to work after all? Or maybe he was just out with his friends? You always gave him the benefit of the doubt but the more he neglected you, the more it was starting to hurt.

Yeosang was a popular guy after all, his visuals were incomparable and you were never able to believe he was yours in the first place. You don’t know what happened over the course of the four months you two had been together but he treated you nothing like he had when you two met.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized it was you who had made all the first moves in the relationship. You were the one to ask him out, to ask him for his phone number, to ask to be more than friends. He had agreed casually every time, never giving any of it much thought.

Could it have been one-sided this entire time? And if it was, why was he stringing you along?

The sound of your phone pinging had you rustling to grab it a lot more desperately than you’d like to admit. You prayed it was Yeosang as you unlocked your phone but of course, it wasn’t him.

Instead, it was your mutual friend Seonghwa, inviting you to go to the arcade with him and some of your other friends. You were nervous to show up without Yeosang as Seonghwa was the one that introduced the two of you in the first place.

You stared at his message, your thumbs circling nervously as you raked your brain for a reply. Just as you were about to decline, another message came through, this time it was Yeosang.

Sangie ♡ : going to the arcade with hwa and the guys, wanna come?

Your heart skipped a beat at the notification. Mentally face palming yourself for being so affected by a bare minimum message, but your heart didn’t care. Already having forgotten all the doubts that had been filling your head just moments before.

You: Sure! I can’t wait to see you :)

Sangie ♡ : :)

Your chest felt a bit heavy at the wordless reply but you hoped he’d be a bit more excited once you saw him in person. You replied to Seonghwa’s message quickly before getting up to get ready.

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

You stood outside the arcade building alone, your eyes switching from your phone screen to the people on the sidewalk as you waited for the boys to arrive. You had only been waiting about 10 minutes when your eyes caught Yunho’s smiling ones in the busy crowd, a trail of boys following behind him. You waved at him, scanning the others, unable to see Yeosang just yet.

Your other friend, San, ran in front of the others to hug you. “Y/n, I missed you! How are you?” He asked, you giggled at his excitement. You had missed him too, and all the boys. However, since Yeosang never responded to your messages, you weren’t able to visit their shared apartment as often as you wanted to.

“I missed you too, San! And I’m doing fine.” Returning his smile as he released you from the hug. When you turned around, your eyes found Yeosang who was already looking at you.

“Hey, babe.” He gave you a small smirk before pulling you into a one armed hug, his other hand not bothering to leave his pant pocket.

“H-hey, baby.” You stuttered at his halfhearted actions, feeling him place the quickest peck on your head before ushering you inside to follow the others.

The whole evening was disheartening to say the least, well, at least the moments when you were near Yeosang.

The way he was hardly paying any attention to you made you feel pathetic, almost like you were just following him around like a lost puppy. After about an hour of it you were visibly sad, debating on going off with the others or just leaving altogether.

Mingi noticed your sulking face that you were trying your hardest to hide as you stood by Yeosang who was paying you no mind. Focusing on cheering on Jongho and Yunho at a punching bag game. He came over and pulled you away to play a few games of air hockey with him. Yeosang not even batting an eyelash at you as you left his side. After that, you and Mingi joined Wooyoung and San at a claw machine where San proudly won you a stuffed puppy.

The attention they were giving you had you feeling better already. That was, until you noticed Seonghwa and Hongjoong off on their own, eyeing the food court suspiciously. Seonghwa’s eyes caught yours, a look of sadness flashing across them before breaking eye contact with you quickly.

Your eyes followed Hongjoong’s to see Yeosang in front of the food court. A smile on his face as he talked to some girl, his hand coming up to brush against her arm and play with her hair, the sight nearly making you burst into tears.

You rushed out before any tears could fall, passing Hongjoong and Seonghwa on your way, the taller boy following behind you.

“Y/n? Y/n...I’m so sorry.” Seonghwa held you by your shoulders, attempting to calm you down as you started sobbing not wanting to look him in the eyes. “I never expected him to treat you like this.”

“It’s okay, Hwa its not your fault.” You were so sad and upset you just wanted to disappear.

Before he could reply, Hongjoong’s shouting caught your attention. You both turned to see him dragging Yeosang out by the arm of his leather jacket, practically throwing him towards you and Seonghwa. The black haired boy moved out of the way to join Hongjoong by the doorway.

Yeosang fixed his jacket then stood in front of you, his hands in his pockets, not saying a word.

“Did you ever even like me?” You asked bluntly after a few minutes of pure silence, staring right at his face. Your sadness having turned to anger. Anger at him for playing with your feelings and anger at yourself for putting up with it for so long.

He cleared his throat, looking around, still refusing to make eye contact with you. “I...I did.”

“So what changed?” Your arms crossed in front of you. You took a quick glance behind him, seeing the other boys had joined the older two, a few of them staring at you and Yeosang wondering what was happening. You didn’t let their presence deter you though, you were ready to end things with Yeosang no matter who heard what was going on.

“I don’t know.”

“And you thought it was a better idea to cheat on me than tell me you didn’t want to be with me anymore?” His eyes never left the ground as you spoke. “I always thought you were too good for me but now I know you’re not. You’re just an asshole and a flirt.”

“I..I know you won’t believe me but...I’m sorry.”

“You’re right I don’t believe you.” A tear fell from your eye against your will, hating that it ever came to this. “It’s over Yeosang. Go finish what you started with that other girl, maybe she can put up with your playboy shit because I’m not. I’m done.”

You turned away from him, too hurt to say bye to the others, hoping they’d understand. After a few seconds, you heard footsteps running up behind you, expecting it to be Yeosang, you started to yell. “Look, Yeosang! I-”

“Hey, hey, it’s just me.” You blinked a few times at the sound of San’s voice next to you. His arm draping over your shoulder pulling you into a side hug.

“And me...” Seonghwa followed on your right, walking quickly to catch up to you both. “We’re gonna walk you home if you don’t mind...”

You sniffled, as you wiped your tears away, not wanting them to watch you cry. “Of course not, thank you both.” The boys tried the best they could to make conversation to distract you and you really appreciated the effort. San grabbing the stuffed dog from your hands, making tiny barking noises with it to make you smile.

When you arrived at your apartment, Seonghwa asked San to give you two a minute to talk. The smaller boy nodded without question, walking a few feet away to give you privacy.

“I’m sorry again for this...I don’t know what’s going on with him but I don’t expect you to forgive him.”

You smiled at Seonghwa’s attempt to make you feel better but you never blamed him. “I understand but I really don’t blame you at all. He seemed so different in the beginning...but...I guess I knew it wouldn’t last.” You looked at the ground between you two, kicking at nothing not really knowing what else to say at that moment.

The sound of San nearly tripping over a rock that he was messing with caught your attention, you watched him for a second, a small smile growing on your face. Seonghwa watched you as you looked at San, knowing all to well how the younger boy felt about you.

“You know...I think San has a crush on you.” He smirked at you playfully but you stared back at him with a look full of warning.

“I don’t know Hwa, I’m just now getting over the last boy you tried to pair me up with.”

“Yeah but...San is different, he’s a sweet guy and I know he’d treat you right.” You both turned your gaze at the boy kicking rocks a few feet away. San looked up, meeting your eyes with a small smile before turning back around, not wanting to interrupt. “Well anyways, I’ll let you get to sleep, I know you had a long day.” He opened his arms for a hug, patting your back reassuringly when you accepted. “If you need to cry to someone or just want to talk please call me.”

“I will.” You promised as you released from his grasp. Seonghwa called out to San, gesturing his head at you to come say his farewells.

San gave you a soft smile as he pulled you into a hug, his head resting on your shoulder a few moments before pulling away. “I hope you feel better soon. Also...I know it’s not my place to say...maybe it’s too soon but...I always thought you were too good for him. You’re such a sweet person I hope you never forget that.” You were shocked speechless by his words. The shy smile on his face as he looked down had your heart fluttering in a way you hadn’t felt in months. “I’ll see you later y/n. If you need anything, I’ll always be here for you. I promise.” He patted your shoulder before joining Seonghwa in the parking lot.

Your mind ran wild with thoughts as you moved about your apartment getting yourself ready for bed. You were upset over everything Yeosang had put you through but for whatever reason, the memories of how San had treated you all night nearly made all your bad feelings go away.

You held the stuffed puppy to your chest as you scrolled through your phone. At the same time trying not to think about Seonghwa’s words from earlier. But then again, maybe he’d be right this time.

#request #ateez #angst #fluff #yeosang angst #san fluff #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #mingi #wooyoung #yeosang #kang yeosang #san #choi san #jongho

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 5 years ago

Text

Study Buddies ~ H.D.

A/n: Yall really be liking Hamish huh? Lol we stan tbh.

Request: “Hi could I request a hamish duke x male reader where the reader is like the super studious person like always preparing for the next test or something and hamish starts liking him? Ps you are like the only person who does the order fics and I love that you do it because I love the order boys!!” by anonymous

Word Count: 3000+

Masterlist

Psychology was hard.

School was never one of those things that came easy to Y/n. He wasn't one of those kids who could sit there and give the bare minimum effort. He struggled to follow throughout an entire lecture because the sun was bright and the grass was really green and he knew it was a nice day outside today and... wait now he'd missed five minutes of class, dang it!

In college, five minutes was like missing three days of school. The topic was suddenly completely different and Y/n was lost and confused.

That didn't stop him from being a top student in each one of his classes though. He had always been proud of his grades and worked himself near death if necessary, if it meant getting an A. Not literally near death of course, that was dramatic.

Y/n had taught himself time management at a very young age. It had been the key to his success ever since. He slept and ate food - three meals a day - and even kept a job, taking every free moment he had to study his ass off so that he knew what was going on and could deliver the proof with those beautiful red A's on the top of each of his papers.

Y/n really did study so much to get those results though. On his breaks at work, between classes, before and after school, during meals and off periods. He even quizzed himself in the bathroom and the shower, checking to make sure he'd gotten it right when he got out. It was hard and tiring, but it meant that he succeeded every time, and that's what was important.

He was a good student. His psychology teacher's TA, Hamish Duke, was very appreciative of it.

Hamish was around a lot more than the teacher was. He taught lectures and even graded papers. This class had long since been seen as Hamish’s class, and that was perhaps why it was so easy for him to slip every conversation into the direction of Y/n. Hamish was proud of all his students, but most often his star pupil.

Hamish talked about Y/n constantly. Or, more accurately, his grades. Like a proud parent showing off his child, Hamish filled his friends' ears with rant after rant about his favorite student. The only student that seemed genuinely knowledgeable about the material. The only student as well who turned in his stuff early and asked questions rather than just listening, and seemed dedicated and focused on everything, as Hamish said.

One day during one of these rants, Lilith said something that changed everything. "He likes you."

Hamish jerked back, his face twisting in disbelief. "What? No he doesn't."

Randall snorted. "No, I have to go with Lilith on this one, Hamish. I have math class with Y/n and he doesn't pay attention at all. He's just a super nerd and teaches the stuff to himself in his free time."

"Some boy doesn't pay attention in any class but Hamish's?" Jack laughed. "Dude so has a crush on you."

Rolling his eyes, Hamish stood. "You guys obviously have no sense of respect. Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to- I already knew that." The trio laughed as Hamish walked away.

After that though, Hamish became hyper aware of Y/n. The boy had his eyes on Hamish nonstop. Every once in a while, he'd even mutter under his breath as he'd watch and Hamish realized after a while that he was watching so closely, he was subconsciously mouthing along with Hamish. Probably because he read the book on his own time as well. Which made Hamish wonder why Y/n ever came to class. If he read the book, was he just... adding some context? Insight? So he asked Randall about it.

"Y/n only comes to class about half the time. The entire time he asks questions, but it's never about what's happened in previous classes or anything- just clarification about what we're learning now. I think he's got some theories? I don't know, he likes to test the water and push formulas. Our teacher actually gets a kick off of it. Y/n makes math fun, and... well, it's math. We all get happy when he's there."

So he might have stayed consistent with his insatiable need to deeply understand everything he took part in, but there was something different about Randall's experience from Hamish's. First of all, Y/n had never missed even a single one of Hamish's classes. Hamish knew because he had a perfect attendance record, and Hamish and the teacher - Ms. Merrill - talked about Y/n around their discussion on the newest lesson plan, batch of tests or even homework.

While Hamish was trying to ignore the thought of Y/n's possible feelings for him and teach a lesson instead, Y/n threw him off by approaching him after class. "Mr. Duke, I was wondering if you know any good tutors. I've been really struggling with the stuff we've been going over recently.

Hamish quirked an eyebrow. "Your grades are almost perfect."

There was a small smile on Y/n's lips when he spoke next. "Unfortunately, grades don't reflect understanding. I can sense myself starting to struggle I don't want to depend on luck being as good to me as it has been."

"Surely you're being modest."

A light chuckle. "Well, yes. I never depend on luck. I have been making educated guesses though and crossing my fingers on the rest."

That Hamish could relate to. "I see. I have to say, I don't really know anyone doing as well in my class as you are. No one who seems to be getting it as well as you do at least. It's mostly your questions that seem to clear up a lot of things for everyone else." Y/n seemed to lose hope as Hamish spoke. Maybe it was the look of panic that caused Hamish to speak next. "Uh, maybe I could." Y/n's eyes widened. "I just- I mean, obviously I understand it a little better. And in a one-on-one setting, it'll be less a lecture and more teaching since I'll be able to take you through my understanding on a deeper level."

"You'd do that?" Y/n looked so hopeful...

Despite the little voice screaming at Hamish to run, he couldn't bring himself to. "Yeah. When are you free?"

"I work everyday except Tuesday, Wednesday, and Saturday. Wednesdays I have completely free but if you wanted to work around Tuesday or Saturday that would be fine." Y/n pulled out a pen from behind his ear. Hamish hadn't noticed it before.

Hamish shuffled. He felt awkward for some reason. Why did he feel awkward? "Wednesdays will be perfectly fine for me. Should I get your number so we can decide what time and place?" Y/n nodded before holding out the pen and offering... his arm. "You don't have paper?"

Y/n rolled his eyes, but his smile was fond not mocking. "I really have to get to work actually. Could you just-?" He motioned to his arm and Hamish shrugged before trying to be delicate as he inked his number on the inside of Y/n's arm. "Thanks! I'll call you." He turned and moved quite quickly out of the room before disappearing out the doors. It was only after Y/n was gone that Hamish realized he still had the pen.

It was fine, he could give it back when they met up to study later.

Later on in the day, Hamish was still struggling to understand why he was so excited for the Wednesday study session. I mean Y/n seemed really cool so maybe Hamish just wanted to be friends with him. That made sense. But right as Hamish thought he was finally over it, it popped back in his brain again and he felt weirdly jittery and unfocused. He kept having to reread the problem he was on because he would get distracted before he could answer it then forget what it was when he finally focused again.

Lilith snapped her book open. "Okay, what's your deal?" The other two boys looked over. Hamish was surprised when he went to look at who she'd snapped at and had seen them all looking at him. When he only looked back confused, Lilith rolled her eyes. "Come on Hamish spill the beans. You won't sit still and you keep looking outside like you're waiting for a package to arrive or something."

"The last time he got like that was when you took him online shopping and he bought a grey v-neck. He threw a party when it came." The tease came from Randall.

"The he cried when you threw up on it," Lilith recalled.

"He CRIED?" Jack's eyes widened in amusement.

"It made my eyes look really good and that stain never came out!" Hamish exclaimed, defending himself.

Lilith shut up the others as they began to laugh. "Anyway, what has you all messed up now?”

Hamish scoffed. "Nothing could be as cool as a gray v-neck. You still owe me a replacement by the way," he shot at Randall, who winked and grinned in response.

"Hamish," Lilith snapped.

Pursing his lips, Hamish hesitated. Then he sighed. "There's only one thing I've got planned and it's not a big deal." Everyone leaned forward. When he didn't explain Randall motioned him to continue. Hamish rolled his eyes. "Y/n asked for some help-"

"You have a date with Y/n?" Jack demanded, his grin already face splitting.

"It's not a date!" Hamish slammed his own book shut. "He just needs someone to study with. He seems to be struggling."

Randall snorted, wiggling his eyebrows. "Probably because he's so distracted by Mr. Teacher."

Lilith nodded in agreement. "Sounds like a study date to me."

Waving his hand to dismiss what they were saying, Hamish stood and moved to the bar. Maybe if he drank something he could make sense of the chaos. Both of his friends and the one that was made up of his emotions. He usually handled both plenty well but they seemed to be refusing to make sense today. "You guys are idiots."

Idiots or not, their words followed Hamish all the way to Wednesday. He and Y/n only texted once to establish the time and place and it was just as professional as their conversation in person had been, but that didn't stop Hamish's mind from going wild. For the first time since Cassie he felt... stupid. He didn't know what to do or say. He found himself wanting to text Y/n more, but couldn't find a reason to. Why was this messing him up so much?

Panicked, Hamish pulled Randall aside at the last second. "I am freaking out."

"Your thing with Y/n today?" Randall asked. Hamish just wordlessly nodded. Randall smiled. "You like him, don't you?" Hamish was stubborn, but he wasn't dumb. He closed his eyes, groaning. "You have for a while?" Randall continued. "Like even before we said anything."

Hamish thought about that for a second. He thought about Ms. Merrill teasing him about how much he talked about Y/n. How she would hand him all Y/n's papers and tests to grade. He thought about the smiles on people's faces when he mentioned Y/n at all. He thought of the warmth in his gut he'd passed off as pride this whole time but, on a second look, was obviously something more. "Yeah." He frowned as he focused on Randall again. "Why did it take me so long to realize?"

Randall smiled. "You're stubborn. Once you've set your mind it'll never be changed. Whatever it was - whether you mislabeled the emotion, or the relationship between you guys, or even you or Y/n as people. Once you labeled it, you weren't going to be swayed until someone forced you to."

"Thank you Lilith," Hamish mumbled, feigning bitterness. Randall laughed. After a second, Hamish asked, "What now?"

Clapping Hamish on the shoulder, Randall let out a heavy sigh. "Now you go to this study date and you woo the boy. Duh."

So that's what Hamish did. He met up with Y/n and recognized the swell in his chest when he saw him. The way his stomach twisted. Now that he knew what it was, he was nervous rather than excited. Why was it suddenly so hard to talk to someone once you liked them?

They were already acquainted. Y/n had seen Hamish in all kinds of conditions, if not all but his worst. They knew plenty about each other, if just in passing. They'd talked plenty of times. They'd even been alone a few times, in a setting just like this. Y/n had been there when Hamish had been a disaster while trying to adjust to fully teaching a class instead of just doing grunt work. He'd helped Hamish out even, instead of teasing him or messing with him like the others students tried to do. What did Hamish have to be afraid of? Y/n trusted Hamish with his grades and education, and that seemed to mean a lot to him. Hamish trusted Y/n too. To tell the truth. To guide and help when he was struggling, and to liven things up when it got boring. It shouldn't have been hard to just talk to him.

And yet.

Y/n placed a hand on Hamish's arm. "Hey, are you okay? You seem upset." Hamish looked at him and realized how close together they were. Not too close, like friends, but far closer than they'd ever been before.

He didn't know what possessed him. It would have been better to break the ice. Maybe bring it up casually and talk about it. Flirt or tease. Anything to transition or something. Hamish skipped all of that. In his little moment of panic, he just leaned in right for the kiss.

And Y/n jerked away.

Hamish nearly choked. "I- I'm so sorry-"

Blush swallowed Y/n's face. "You were going to kiss me, right? I didn't misread that?"

"Yes." Hamish white knuckled his pencil. "I should have lead into that. You just- have these really pretty eyes-" He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

"You... I'm sorry you just took me by surprise." Y/n rubbed his forehead. "Please don't tell me you thought I asked for your help because I liked you." Hamish's smile fell and he tried to find something to say, but Y/n looked uncomfortable and he was afraid he'd make it worse. "Hamish, I meant what I said when I inquired for help. You suggested doing it yourself. I don't... like you like that. Honestly I'm about to take a short leave for a few days and didn't want to get behind so I thought I'd get some clarification on some things I've been studying on my own."

Hamish felt like an idiot. "Oh."

"Yeah," Y/n returned softly.

"I'm... so sorry," Hamish breathed out. "Honestly I was talking about you to my friends because I admire your hard work and good grades and how you engage in class and make it fun, and they messed up my head." He shook his head, trying to clear it. "How about we ignore all of that and focus on school? I'm sure you still need help."

Y/n paused, a smile growing on his face. "I'd like that. I don't think I could get anyone as good as you to help me with this."

The awkward tension passed in a few moments as they got absorbed in work. The problem was, as Hamish easily lost himself in teaching, Y/n was now the one who found himself distracted. Hamish had a really nice smile and the sun reflected off his eyes and hair and made him look like he was almost glowing. Y/n hadn't noticed it before, but now... thinking about Hamish kissing him. How Hamish might like him. Might have been thinking about him and wondering. Getting up the courage for this little thing, and how he hadn't run away to save his pride because he valued Y/n's need enough to push away his own feelings.

They parted on good terms, shaking hands after a pause. Then they gathered their stuff and went their separate ways.

Hamish refused to talk about the "date" with Y/n, no matter how much his friends begged and prodded. Not even Lilith could pry anything from him. When Y/n didn't show up for class, Hamish figured he was gone for his little break. A break that lasted for a week and a half. Every class without Y/n was super boring and seemed to teach no one anything. Students all stared at him like he was speaking another language, and everyone refused to ask any questions. No jokes or engagement at all. He understood what Randall had meant by everyone getting excited when Y/n came to class now.

It was right after the next class Y/n hadn't been at that the man himself suddenly appeared. He looked determined about something, walking to Hamish quickly. Hamish was at the back of the room, trying to pull himself together and lift his spirits as he worried yet again that he was maybe just a bad teacher and Y/n was the one who made people stay and come at all. It was then that Y/n barged in and walked right up to him, cutting him off int he middle of greeting him and asking what he needed to grab him by the shirt and pull him into a kiss.

Without hesitation, Hamish kissed back. He held Y/n's face as the other boy pulled them as close together as they could get. When they parted, they'd moved a little so that Y/n was sitting on Hamish's desk, Hamish between his legs. "Whoa," Hamish whispered, both stunned by the kiss and their current position.

Y/n exhaled a sharp breath. "You asshole. I've been thinking about you nonstop for MONTHS and you finally try and kiss me right when I'm getting over you. Then I'm gone and all I can think about is you again and I miss you and your stupid class and your hair and eyes and your voice and how much I wanted you to kiss me so guess who's back early because I need you to kiss me? GUESS."

Hamish chuckled, soft but for quite a while. Y/n shoves him, but before he can go off again Hamish is already kissing him for the second time. Both boys relaxed and melted into each other. "Hey," Hamish whispered.

"Hi," Y/n whispered back.

The older boy's thumb brushed over Y/n's cheek. "Let me take you on a real date."

Biting his lip to try and contain his smile, Y/n considered. "Only if you agree to be my boyfriend."

Hamish grinned. "Does this mean we can be study buddies all the time?"

"Will you distract me with kisses like you tried to last time?" Y/n asked.

Tilting his head, Hamish avoided answering. "Not... EVERY time..."

Y/n laughed, shaking his head. "Fine. Deal."

"Deal," Hamish agreed. And they kissed again to seal it. Finally.

#hamish duke #the order #the knights of saint chrisptoher #the knights of the order of the hermedic blue rose #hamish duke x reader #hamish duke imagine #male reader #the order x reader #the order imagine #the knights of saint christopher x reader #the knights of saint Christopher imagine

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tealin · 4 years ago

Text

Cape Crozier: The Winter Journey

As usual, please go to the original blog to see everything formatted properly. I will attempt to put most of this under a cut, here. Forgive me if it fails.

On the morning of 27 June 1911, three men set out from Cape Evans, on the balmy west coast of Ross Island, to cross to the east coast via its southern shore. Wilson, their leader, wanted to acquire some Emperor penguin embryos, and the only known Emperor rookery was just off Cape Crozier. Based on the chicks he had seen in September the last time he was in Antarctica, Wilson estimated that the eggs would be laid in early July, so he timed the trip to meet them at the right stage of development and to coincide with the full moon, to have the best visibility in a world of 24-hour night.

Wilson had discussed this mission with his assistant, Cherry-Garrard, when the latter was applying to join the Expedition. Once in Antarctica, they agreed the obvious choice for a third was Bowers, who had amply proven his energy, enthusiasm, strength, resourcefulness, and resistance to cold.

To reach Cape Crozier at the full moon in early July meant leaving Cape Evans at the new moon, and so shortly after the solstice that most of the day was nearly black, lit only by the stars shining hard in the sky, and occasionally the aurora. The first part of the journey was over very familiar territory, so the greatest difficulty was learning how to camp when one could hardly see anything and it was too cold to take one's mitts off or touch any metal. So far, so surmountable.

The tune changed as soon as they left the sea ice and got onto the permanent ice of the Barrier (or Ross Ice Shelf, as it is now known).

They left the tempering effect of the open ocean behind, and were under the influence of the frigid interior. The air temperature plunged, and worse, for men hauling everything necessary for life on two 9ft sledges, they soon entered a zone of soft snow.

Runners slide over snow by melting the surface with friction – the glide is, in fact, slipping over a thin film of liquid water. At such low temperatures, friction is not sufficient to melt anything, so the grains of snow act more like sand. A hard, wind-polished surface would be like sandpaper, but in the deep soft snow it was like dragging a dead weight through the Sahara, albeit a Sahara where a day of -50°F felt like a warm spell.

They couldn't drag both sledges at once, so they had to take one forward, then retrace their steps and drag the other. For every mile of forward progress, they actually covered three. In the dead calm, they could use a naked candle to follow their outward steps back to fetch the second sledge. Eight hours of dragging seldom got them more than two miles from where they started, and ended with the slow process of pitching camp. After getting the tent up, the day's cook would burn his fingers on freezing tin matchboxes in a quest for a match free of frost, before he could get the Primus stove going. Eventually the travellers would get some hot liquid in them –

Directly we started to drink then the effect was wonderful: it was, said Wilson, like putting a hot-water bottle against your heart. The beats became very rapid and strong and you felt the warmth travelling outwards and downwards. [250]

– and then, after checking their feet for frostbites, it was time to thaw their way into their frozen sleeping bags for a miserable attempt at sleep.

For me it was a very bad night: a succession of shivering fits which I was quite unable to stop, and which took possession of my body for many minutes at a time until I thought my back would break, such was the strain placed upon it. They talk of chattering teeth: but when your body chatters you may call yourself cold. [241] We knew we did sleep, for we heard one another snore, and also we used to have dreams and nightmares; but we had little consciousness of it, and we were now beginning to drop off when we halted on the march. [245]

It was important for every field party to take regular meteorological observations, to contribute to an understanding of the region's weather. At regular intervals through the day, Bowers would take an air temperature reading, and while they were sleeping, a minimum thermometer was placed under the sledge to measure the temperature in a sheltered place. On 6 July, this got down to -75°F; the following afternoon, Bowers' thermometer registered -77.5°F. The day lives in my memory as that on which I found out that records are not worth making. [247-8]

The clear cold of the first part of their journey had given way to a fog, which diffused the little moonlight they got and obscured the terrain until they were practically right on top of it. As they were rounding the heel of Mt Terror this meant crevasses, and not being able to tell where they were until one fell through, which was a nerve-wracking business on top of the sleep deprivation and physical hardship.

The horror of the nineteen days it took us to travel from Cape Evans to Cape Crozier would have to be re-experienced to be appreciated; and any one would be a fool who went again: it is not possible to describe it. The weeks which followed were comparative bliss, not because our conditions were better – they were far worse – but because we were callous. I for one had come to that point of suffering at which I did not really care if only I could die without much pain. They talk of the heroism of the dying – they little know – it would be so easy to die, a dose of morphia, a friendly crevasse, and blissful sleep. The trouble is to go on. . . . [237]

Finally they were on the home stretch, a narrow lane between the rough terrain of the land and the great pressure waves where the Barrier presses up against Ross Island as it flows out to sea. This proved to be nearly impossible to keep to, in the poor light, but after much stumbling, and with a welcome rise in temperature to the mere -20s, they finally reached a moraine just short of the Knoll, within hiking distance of the Emperor colony huddled in the lee of the Barrier face below. They pitched their tent on an icy smooth snow slope 150 yards down from the ridge, and the following day set about building a igloo near the top, using the exposed volcanic stone found there, in a method Cherry had been practising at Cape Evans. July 16th, when they established the hut, was Wilson's wedding anniversary, and in the privacy of his diary at least, he named the igloo Oriana Hut, and the moraine Oriana Ridge, after his wife. The others proposed 'Terra Igloo', 'The House on the Hill,' and 'Bleak House.' In the South Polar Times, after their return, Bowers immortalised it in rhyme as 'The House That Cherry Built.' On official Antarctic maps, though, it's now labelled Wilson's Igloo and the moraine is Igloo Spur.

Our trip to Cape Crozier was a walk in the park – 35 minutes in a helicopter watching the amazing views roll by – and our greatest challenge was finding the landing site, but that was only a question of how close it was to the GPS waymark, rather than whether we could land at all. We were not exempt from the vagaries of Antarctic weather, however. When our flight got the green light, the weather at Cape Crozier was 30% cloud with 7-knot winds. Not your typical Cape Crozier weather, but great weather for helicopters. By the time we arrived, 35 minutes later, it was 70% cloud, a fog was rolling in, and winds were at 30 knots. I was warned our time here might be short. But we set off to see the igloo anyway.

The plan had been to build the body of the igloo in stone, then bank up the walls with gravel and snow to make them weatherproof. Unlike a stereotypical snow-block igloo, it was not a dome, but would be roofed using one of the sledges as a beam, with a canvas sheet spread over it, firmly anchored in the rocks. This has an Arctic precedent: in Francis McClintock's account of his search for the lost Franklin Expedition in the 1850s, he describes meeting an Inuit woman who lived in a stone igloo of very similar construction. Cherry's practice igloo at Cape Evans was an admirable structure, but the plan went awry at Cape Crozier, on account of a lack of gravel and all the snow in the vicinity being blown so hard as to be practically ice [261]. They improvised as best they could, chipping some slabs of ice out of the snowbank and leaning them against the exterior walls, but it was not as cosy a structure as they'd hoped, and they ended up stuffing spare socks into some of the larger gaps in the stones to keep out the wind. This wind, they discovered on their second day of building, was much stronger at the top of the ridge than where they had made camp on the snow. But the stone walls were more secure than the tent – which was left pitched outside the igloo's door for storage – and heralded a new 'Age of Stone' in which they could get on with their science.

It was more than just scientific interest that made a visit to the penguin colony imperative: on their grind to Cape Crozier, they had burned through nearly five of their six cans of oil. As well as the penguin embryos they came for, they needed to burn some blubber to keep warm in their igloo, so that they could use the last tin of oil for the return journey. So as soon as their building progress allowed, they scouted a perilous path down a snow drift over the cliffs and through the horrible pressure to reach the Emperor colony. Instead of the two thousand birds found by the Discovery, there were barely a hundred, and less than half of them apparently had eggs. Nevertheless, Wilson and Bowers secured five eggs and three birds' skins – the blubber comes off with the skin – and they legged it back to their camp while there was still a modicum of light to see by. Cherry broke both of the eggs he was carrying in a fall, but they made it back with the remaining three and the blubber, which got its revenge on Wilson by spluttering into his eye from the stove.

“Things must improve,” said Bill [Wilson] next day, “I think we reached bed-rock last night.” We hadn't, by a long way. [272]

The igloo is at the opposite end of the moraine from the helicopter landing site, or at least where the GPS told us it was. There is nothing between the crest of Igloo Spur and the Transantarctic Mountains, hundreds of miles away, and the 30-knot wind flowed over our minor obstruction just like a river: barely any gusts, just a constant flow, solid as water, up and over the ridge and then out towards the sea. I tried to look out for lichen as I stumbled along, but it was hard to be careful of where I put my feet when I was struggling to keep my balance against the wind. There were patches of a beige crust – was this lichen or was it a mineral deposit? Someone shouted that they had found some – it turned out to be black, and crawled along the ground like dinosaur fern. Once spotted it was obvious, and easier to avoid.

A few good minutes' scramble got us to the igloo. On the way, I saw a small log of petrified wood, shining pale on the chocolate-brown rubble. This seemed very much out of place on a volcanic island, and I wondered briefly how it had got there, before an answer came: obviously it had blown here. A joke, perhaps, but not as much of one as you might think: the further out along the ridge we walked, the stronger the wind seemed to be. At last we reached the remains of Oriana Hut.

I should have been humbled, or at least struck with a sense of awe. But all I could think was: You guys were completely insane.

The day after Wilson, Cherry, and Bowers returned from the raid on the Emperors, there was a small blizzard, and the flapping of the canvas roof on the igloo caused them some concern, so they set about weighing it down with blocks of ice and making extra sure it was securely fastened all around. They pitched the tent right next to the door and put a lot of their gear into it, to make space for themselves in the igloo. Then, with the weather calm and their bellies full, they settled down to catch up on some precious and hitherto scanty sleep.

I do not know what time it was when I woke up. It was calm, with that absolute silence which can be so soothing or so terrible as circumstances dictate. Then there came a sob of wind, and all was still again. Ten minutes and it was blowing as though the world was having a fit of hysterics. The earth was torn in pieces: the indescribable fury and roar of it all cannot be imagined.

“Bill, Bill, the tent has gone,” was the next I remember – from Bowers shouting at us again and again through the door. …. Journey after journey Birdie and I fought our way across the few yards which had separated the tent from the igloo door.

… To get that gear in we fought against solid walls of black snow which flowed past us and tried to hurl us down the slope. Once started nothing could have stopped us. I saw Birdie [Bowers] knocked over once, but he clawed his way back just in time. Having passed everything we could find in to Bill, we got back into the igloo, and started to collect things together, including our very dishevelled minds.[275-6]

Not sure when they would be able to eat again, they cooked a meal, and nervously watched the igloo roof. The problem was not so much that it was in the wind, but that it was just out of it: the wind rushing up the southern slope of the moraine created suction just behind the crest, where the igloo was, and this was pulling the canvas up. The motion of the canvas shifted the ice blocks weighing it down until they were off. Then the incessant sucking up and flapping down started to stretch the material; as it stretched it got more play; as it played more the flapping became more violent. At last the fabric could no longer take the strain and exploded into ribbons, whose frantic lashing in the hurricane sounded like pistol shots.

They hurried into their sleeping bags and rolled over so that the flaps were underneath, and huddled while the storm raged overhead.

I can well believe that neither of my companions gave up hope for an instant. They must have been frightened, but they were never disturbed. As for me I never had any hope at all; and when the roof went I felt that this was the end. [280]

And then … they slept. The blizzard had brought a rise in temperature and the snow drifting over them made a good insulator, so they were more comfortable than they had been for a while, and of course there was nothing else they could do. There was so much to worry about that there was not the least use in worrying: and we were so very tired. [282] Occasionally Bowers would thump Wilson and Wilson would move a bit to prove he was alive. When they were awake they'd sing songs and hymns to pass the time – we sang hymns because they were easier to sing than La Bohême and it was a good thing to sing something.* Quieter moments might be spent cogitating over how to get back without a tent, but the situation looked pretty hopeless. When they were thirsty they would pinch a little drift from just outside their bag and eat it, and so staved off the worst, but without a tent, 52 excruciating miles from the nearest shelter at Hut Point, and months away from spring, it seemed only to be delaying the inevitable.

Thus impiously I set out to die, making up my mind that I was not going to try and keep warm, that it might not take too long, and thinking I would try and get some morphia from the medical case if it got very bad. Yes! comfortable, warm reader. Men do not fear death, they fear the pain of dying. [281]

On top of everything, it was Wilson's 39th birthday.

I suppose the most surprising thing is that there is anything left of the igloo at all. Some of the rocks came down when the roof blew open, but the many, many blizzards since then have worked hard to dismantle the rest. And yet, in the shelter of the walls, protected by the drift that accumulates there, there are still some of the Crozier party's possessions.

Standing here, especially in a 30-knot wind, one cannot but think this is a pretty stupid place to build a shelter. Cherry acknowledges this in his book, but reminds us that they had to build more or less where the rocks were, and the rocks were where the wind kept the snow from accumulating. They had brought a snow knife to cut snow blocks, Inuit-fashion, but there was no such snow to be had; it was all ice. And I had an additional insight, thanks to my midnight hike up Arrival Heights:

The igloo is built just off the crest of the ridge, exactly like where I was standing when I felt no wind on Arrival Heights. They would have been very familiar with that ridgeline and had almost certainly observed the same phenomenon, so if they had to pick a spot on a desolate windswept hill, that was, in the circumstances, one of the better ones to pick. There was a short blizzard their first night back from the Emperors, but aside from the drift blowing through the gaps in the rocks it didn't concern them much; they just had the bad timing to meet a monstrous storm shortly after. I have never heard or felt or seen a wind like this, Cherry wrote, even after having experienced the ferociously windy second winter at Cape Evans, where they feared the hut might blow down, I wondered why it did not carry away the earth. [283] They had anticipated the wind in the construction of the hut, and the pyramid tent had amply proven its ability to stand up to blizzards in its years of Antarctic service; it was the suction that threw them a curve ball. When the roof blew into ribbons, it was still firmly anchored in the walls, and even 108 years later, it's still there.

The storm first hit on Friday, 21 July; by Monday it was beginning to abate enough that they could speak to each other without too much difficulty. They hadn't eaten for two days, but the first thing they did was go look for the tent. When that proved fruitless, they returned and cooked a meal with the tent floorcloth stretched between their heads. The cooker was full of penguin feathers, burnt blubber, and dirt, but the smell of it was better than anything on earth.

When the midday twilight returned, they had another search for the tent. I followed Bill down the slope. We could find nothing. But, as we searched, we heard a shout somewhere below and to the right. They slid down the snow slope and fetched up where Bowers had discovered the tent, which must have closed like an umbrella when sucked off its moorings, and, with so much less surface area, dropped out of the sky only a few hundred yards away. Our lives had been taken away and given back to us.

We were so thankful we said nothing.

If the tent went again we were going with it. We made our way back up the slope with it, carrying it solemnly and reverently, precious as though it were something not quite of the earth. And we dug it in as tent was never dug in before ... [284-5]

I have read Cherry's account of the Winter Journey several times, 'blind' as it were – in my head, Cape Crozier was a chaotic jumble of ice and rock with no shape I could deduce from the writing. Unlike the landmarks of McMurdo Sound, and even the Beardmore to some extent, there were no historical photos of the theatre for this action; a few closeups of the igloo appear at the end of Mark Gatiss' 2007 docudrama, but they give no context in respect to the landscape. This was why it was vitally important I stand there myself. The moment I realised that ambition, I knew it was more valuable than I could ever have pitched in a grant proposal. The tiered foothills of Mt Terror to the east, the back of the Knoll, the strip of blue sea visible from the igloo, the 'porcelain teacup' of the hollow between here and there, and most profoundly, how the igloo hangs off the edge of nowhere on this exposed finger of land. In the midst of a blizzard, with howling drift on all sides as well as above and below, it would be a tiny mote of solidity suspended in the vast blank nothing.

My companions must have been a little confused by my behaviour. I hardly took any photos of the igloo. It was interesting, for sure, but the state it's in now would not help me much, to draw it how it was then. I took a lot of photos of the surroundings, but on two sides it was blowing mist so that didn't take very long. Mostly what I did was sit with my back against a sill of rock near the igloo and just stare and stare and stare. I wanted to memorize everything – not just where things were, but the wind, the silvery gleam on the snow, the feeling of being utterly at the extremity of all things. It's one thing to read Cherry's memories, and boggle at the experience; it's quite another to stand where they were made, and be able to measure your own experience against theirs. Standing there in the light, I could see it dark. Their blizzard would have been blowing twice as hard as the wind that could have knocked me over. Riding behind Cherry's eyes, memory viewed through the lens of grief and nostalgia, his companions fill the frame, so one does not get a proper sense of how extremely tiny they all were in this vast howling nothing. And, of course, they had only themselves to get them home, not a waiting helicopter.

We had another meal, and we wanted it; and as the good hoosh ran down into our feet and hands, and up into our cheeks and ears and brains, we discussed what we would do next. Birdie was all for another go at the Emperor penguins. Dear Birdie, he would never admit that he was beaten – I don't know that he ever really was! … There could really be no common-sense doubt: we had to go back … [285] They packed what they could that night and got what sleep they could in their horrible icy bags. The next morning it looked like it was going to start blizzing again; they loaded the camp onto one of the sledges and stashed in a corner of the igloo what they didn't want or need to take back, along with the other sledge, and set off into a rising wind. After only a mile or so the weather forced them to camp, and Birdie tied a line from the apex of the tent around the outside of his bag where he slept: if the tent went he was going too. [287]

The journey back was still cold, but only hauling one sledge, they made much better time. The men were exhausted, however, and their equipment suffering from their ordeals, so it didn't afford as much comfort or protection as it had on the way out. But they were on their way home, and justifiably confident of getting there.

It was the helicopter that called time on my visit to Cape Crozier. The anemometer had clocked 38 knots at one point and nothing looked likely to improve. In the interest of fuel efficiency, the machine was a nimble fibreglass damselfly, not built to withstand this sort of onslaught, and our pilot was worried for his craft. So my coordinator came and told me it was time to go. The trek back was definitely windier than it had been when we arrived, and it felt longer, too, though that may have been because I had my head down, focusing on my footing, rather than looking at lichen and petrified wood. We piled onto the waiting machine and with no undue delay were back in the air. One last wide loop around Igloo Spur, then we rode the wind seaward, and the igloo on the edge of nowhere vanished in the mist behind.

It is extraordinary how often angels and fools do the same thing in this life, and I have never been able to settle which we were on this journey. [273]

I understand why they did what they did, and made the decisions they made in context, but I have not let go of that impression that they were completely insane. I've done pretty crazy things for an abstract goal, and while sleep-deprived, so on one hand I hesitate to judge. On the other, a tiny unrepresentative sample of the extremity they endured beggars belief that they didn't start the trek home the minute they'd got the eggs, if not a lot sooner. Surely they noticed that it was horrible?

But who is the more foolish here? They threw themselves into the worst Antarctica had to offer in pursuit of knowledge, which could only be acquired this way. They may not have known how bad it was going to be, but they knew it would be pretty bad, and went anyway, because they determined it to be worthwhile.

We, on the other hand, were only there because they had been there.

Correction: I was there because they had been there. The others would not have been there except for me.

So who is the bigger fool?

*All quotes in this post are from The Worst Journey in the World by Apsley Cherry-Garrard, with corresponding page numbers, except this one, which his from his introduction to Edward Wilson of the Antarctic, p.xiv

#the worst journey in the world #cape crozier #winter journey #apsley cherry-garrard #edward adrian wilson #bill wilson #henry robertson bowers #birdie bowers #penguins #adventure #polar exploration #heroic age #exploration #science

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mishapeesha · 4 years ago

Text

hello friends! i have decided to start writing a fanfiction (although I am......not that experienced with writing, but I will trY)

anyways! the pairing is obviously deancas, and since I’ve just written the first chapter, the tags will be limited until I further develop the story. The rating will change if needed, trigger warnings will be added if necessary, and so on!

the summary:

A package is mailed to Castiel Novak, a 27 year old with unknowingly very limited knowledge on a certain aspect of his life. It’s filled with what seems like hundreds of letters all to him, a single person. Memories and confessions of love are penned within those letters. As time goes on, he feels drawn to the person on the other end and sets out to find them – and the letter’s inevitable true destination that ties the final loose end in Castiel's life.

ao3 link!:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28625316/chapters/70161738

i would really appreciate any feedback, or just boosting this would be pretty cool too!

for anyone that doesn’t wanna read on ao3, chapter 1 starts below!

September 18th, 1992

Castiel’s chest bounced as he jogged down the stairs aligned in a wide spiral, his eyebrow quirked up in confusion as his doorbell buzzed repeatedly with barely a second in between every ring. He winced at the harsh sound of it, noticing how military-like it was in the way that the alarm went off. It was always a task of his to get it changed, but he never got the chance to. Either because he didn’t feel like it, or because his memory disallowed him to remember something as unimportant as a doorbell.

“Coming!” He called out to whoever bothered to show up at his house so early in the morning. Castiel paused beside the bookcase placed beside his door, glancing at the mirror in order to adjust the loose strands of hair that spiked in different directions with the frantic brush of his fingers. He let out a sigh as his gaze shifted towards the reflection of the wall clock behind him, seeing that it was barely 7:05 am. Just as he turned to face the door, that annoying noise rang in his ears once more. Maybe one day he’d go through with that mental task of changing the buzz to something more audibly pleasant.

His fingers wrapped around the metal doorknob, and a click emerged as he swung the door open, being immediately met with a man who he had never seen in his life. His eyes quickly scanned over the man, noticing that he was in uniform, so he classified him as harmless. What damage could a mailman do? Hand him a letter and give him a papercut? Though there was a look on the mailman’s face that Castiel couldn’t quite place. He was torn between thinking it was some sort of discomfort towards Cas personally, or just general exhaustion because it could just be that he was tired. There wasn’t really anything enjoyable about driving to several homes, handing gifts to so many people while barely surviving off of minimum wage and receiving nothing in return.

“Castiel Novak?” The man asked, shifting in his spot momentarily as he held a medium sized box underneath one arm, and a clipboard in the other hand. Castiel took note that his name was Thomas after noticing the nametag attached to the pocket on the fabric of his blouse.

“Yes, that’s me.” Castiel replied, opening the door slightly more after feeling more comfortable to do so. He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked past Thomas, wondering if anyone was following him, or if they were being watched. They seemed to be alone, so Cas stopped tapping his fingers against the wooden door, although he hadn’t realized that he began to do that in the first place. “Is there anything that you need of me?”

“Well,” Thomas began with a nod. He cleared his throat and placed the clipboard in between his legs to use both of his hands, and then offered Cas the box he held. “We’ve had this in the office for a while now, but it was specified to be delivered on this day to this address, and to you.” He explained, biting his lower lip in what Cas took as some sort of minimal panic, or uneasiness. “The sender wishes to remain anonymous, however.” He added, as if it were nothing unusual.

“Anonymous?” Castiel questioned and drew a frown onto his face. He shook his head and reverted back to closing the door, but he kept a smaller gap so that the two of them could still communicate. “I will not be accepting a box from someone who doesn’t wish that their identity is revealed. It could be anything, and I am not willing to risk my safety.” He deadpanned before he glanced down at the box, not trusting whatever was in it. Why would anyone refuse to mention their name unless they were someone dangerous and not to be messed with?

Thomas stared at Cas for a few moments as he was now met with the confusion of what to do with the box now that the apparent receiver was blatantly rejecting it. He swallowed hard as an uncomfortable smile curled the corners of his mouth.

“Mr. Novak, I can assure you nothing that will hurt you is in this box. Not only is it very light, but it would also be a shame if this was thrown out. As I mentioned, this has been collecting dust in our office. It has been for the last four years.”

Castiel froze at Thomas’ words, struck with surprise. He had absolutely no idea who sent the box, what was in the box, or why it was sent in the first place. Cas was Cas. The person he spoke to the most was his brother, and even then, he barely saw Gabriel to begin with. They spoke less and less as the years passed, and so Castiel was alone for the majority of the time. So, he couldn’t quite process how he had a package delivered to him, when he knew his brother barely had the energy to stop by his house for a quick hello. He was a generally distant individual. An outsider to himself, his family, and others.

This did not add up.

“Four years you say?” He asked, tilting his head to the side as he looked between Thomas and the box, earning a nod in reply. He sighed in defeat and once again, opened the door. “You really can’t tell me who sent it? Surely you must know.” Cas said, raising his eyebrow as he finally decided to take the box from Thomas’ hold. “It isn’t heavy.” He pointed out in confirmation to what Thomas previously stated, now more so curious to know what he was sent rather than worried.

“I’m not at liberty to say. I’m sorry.” Thomas responded and rubbed the back of his neck before he remembered to pull the clipboard from between his legs. “Could you sign this, please?”

Castiel took the pen and scribbled a random signature on the piece of paper, nodding at Thomas who offered a small smile at Cas. “Thank you.” He murmured quietly, clutching the box to his chest.

“Of course. Have a good day.”

“And you as well.”

A creak erupted from the door as Castiel let it close on itself, and eventually the atmosphere fell back into silence. But suddenly, he became almost hyper-aware of his surroundings. He couldn’t tell whether it was his actual heartbeat that he could hear, or if he was overhearing some rhythmic beat from his neighbor’s home nearby. And he definitely grew irritated at the loud ticking sound of the clock on the wall that seemed to follow him as he dragged himself through the hallway to the living room.

The walls seemed to follow his every movement, making Cas feel judged and uneasy. And just for a moment, a sense of guilt rose in him. There was no source for it, yet there was some inexplainable physical tug to what Cas held in his hands, allowing negative emotions to faintly flood into him. He was convinced that his thoughts echoed off those same walls, as any word spoken in his mind just sounded too intense and loud in his ears.

Cas sat down on the couch, sinking into the mattress as he leaned forward to place the box on the coffee table in front of him. His bottom lip became a victim of his anxious habits where his teeth would peel at the loose, dry skin, drawing blood that lightly pooled into his mouth and presented a metallic taste.

“What could you be?” He spoke out loud to himself, picking at the loose thread poking out of the couch. He exhaled and used his nails to tear off the tape sealing the box shut. It looked like an average box, which made any assumptions as to what could be inside completely impossible to Cas. It’s not like he expected a bomb to be inside, but he also didn’t expect a proper gift. So, then what? What made a box so big, yet so light at the same time? What was so important that it absolutely had to be sent to Cas four years later?

Once he managed to tear the seals off, he took in a deep breath. He didn’t know what he would be getting himself into, and yet he knew there was absolutely no way he’d be able to keep himself from looking inside. So, before he knew it or could hesitate, the box was opened, revealing the last thing Cas would have expected.

Letters.

Lots of them.

“What the hell..?” He breathed out, flipping the box over so that the letters scattered out across the table. His eyes widened in both confusion and shock, and he immediately reached to pick one up. He examined the envelope: Clean, neat, and numbered with a bold 30 on it that was also in the colour of purple. There was no stamp. There was no name. Just a singular number, and nothing more than that.

Or it would be nothing more if he decided to keep the envelopes tightly secured.

Curiosity killed the cat, didn’t it? Though at the same time, he really did have nothing to lose. A dance with death was the least of his current concerns.

By the look of things, it appeared as though there was a certain number of letters in the box, labeled from one to an unknown limit. For all that could be known, there could be fifty letters, a hundred, or a thousand. He doubted he’d read all of them, because what could possibly be so interesting that the writer thought it was imperative that Cas knew?

The bigger question was, who wrote them?

Castiel shuffled through the envelopes until he found the first numbered 1 in red. His mouth went dry, and his brain raced with questions that he had no answer to at all. He hated being blind to the truth, to be instead engulfed in a mystery, like his life was some sort of game. He wanted to know what was going on, and he wanted to know now. But given all that Cas was presented with, he knew it would be a long time before he knew what was actually going on. It could be days, weeks, months. All depending on how much Cas read, and how fast.

He fiddled with the letter in his hand, debating whether or not to open it. He had to. He could just read this one and throw the others out. And maybe he’d get the answers he needed in the first envelope, making it possible to ignore the others.

The paper ripped beneath his fingers, and soon enough, he held a paper in his hands. The first out of many.

Quickly, his eyes scanned over the words written, immediately blocking them out because he refused to jump too far in what was visibly so carefully put together. He wanted to take his time and appreciate the effort put into all of this. But he did take notice of the handwriting. It was a combination of neat and messy. Definitely readable, and a little too familiar. It was nice, simply put. But Cas could sense the desperation in the way the words were written. They were rushed, and well thought out of as well. Like whoever wrote knew what to say, just not how to say it.

Dear Castiel,

Knowing you, you’re probably freaked the hell out right now. And... Well, you should be.

Cas frowned and scoffed, rolling his eyes at the paper. Already, the letter was referring to him, and he had no idea about who was writing. Clearly, off to a great start.

Or not. Actually, don’t freak out. You don’t need that. Anyways…grab yourself that weird coffee that I know you like and get comfy.

What I’ve done here for you is write a hundred letters. Or I’m planning to, at least. Hopefully I commit to this. I guess if you’re reading this, I’ll have succeeded, so yay me, I guess. But I want you to really read them. To understand it all because there is so much that you don’t know. About me, about you, and more importantly, about us. I know you might be scared-

Castiel looked away and shook his head, setting the letter down on the table causing it to fold in on itself with how long it had been creased for. He rubbed his forehead and sighed, mumbling something incoherent underneath his breath. Not even halfway through the first letter, and Cas was already overwhelmed. Everything in him begged him to stop reading, but he couldn’t stop himself from reaching back towards the piece of paper and picking it up once more. He was certain that would be a decision he would regret in the future.

-and that’s okay. Fear’s good. Sometimes, at least.

Please, hear me out, alright? I need you to keep an open mind. You gotta, man. Or else this won’t work. I don’t mean to put on a show and get all dramatic, but I need you to level with me. To feel with me, and to get angry and hurt whenever you feel like it. I need you to bust open your damn walnut, and pull me out of that chest that you’ve got stuffed in there somewhere.

Cas, you may not know me now, but I know you.

I’m writing this on September 18th, 1988. We met five years go..I don't really know when you'll get this. Could be ten years from now. Guess we'll see.

I need you to remember.

Work that big ol’ brain of yours and try to not be the dumbass that you tend to be. It's my fault you're in your current situation, but you need to try. If not for me, then for you.

We haven't spoken in so long, Cas. And saying I miss you won't change a damn thing because you don't even know who I am, but I do miss you. And you can take that however you want for now, but you'll understand it all eventually. If you decide to actually go through with this and read all that I've written for you.

“Situation?” Castiel asked out loud, as if he’d get a response. Of course, he was met with silence. But he still had no idea what was happening. He didn’t know what any of this meant, but he did know this had the potential to ruin his entire life. In fact, it felt like everything started slowly tumbling down already.

And yes, he had nothing. But was it worth the loss?

I’ll tell you everything. No plot-holes, not shit-holes, or whatever. All I ask is that you read. It’s that simple.

That’s all for now. Sorry for the short first letter. I’ll see you soon.

-Dean W.

“Dean?” He whispered, and at that, his chest knotted tightly as he took in a shaky breath. He widened his eyes and wheezed, an uneasy feeling creeping its way up his chest. So, the writer had a name. One that Cas mentally did not recognize, but he physically did apparently.

What the hell did the "W" stand for? He didn't know. Or rather he couldn't remember, according to what the letters were saying.

He set the letter down and stared at the others, scratching at his arm as he eyed the unorganized mess that had now grounded him in his place. Out of all of the things he could have received that day, he just had to get what was probably the most confusing thing he had ever been confronted with.

The possibility of fault grew, and all Cas could do for now was allow himself to become engulfed in the non-existent voice of a series of letters that he was yet to understand, and so rightfully dreaded.

#deancas #destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #spn #supernatural #spn fanfic #destiel fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester #castiel #jensen ackles #misha collins #destiel endgame

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

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Survey #422

“i will not become a figure of my mistakes / i will not become the mask that is not my face”

Have you ever been told you were a good writer? I've been told that's one of my "gifts." What do you put on your baked potatoes? Butter, American cheese, and bacon bits. Gooood shit. What are you listening to? I'm re-watching Gab Smolders play Parasite Eve. Love that game to bits, and I really enjoy how she has a legitimate appreciation for it despite its age. It's so great watching her fall in love with a game she knew nothing about. Did you ever have braces? Yes. Are you afraid of flying? I acknowledge the risks of it, but I don't really actively fear it. Are you short? No; I'm your average height for an American woman of my age. Have you ever used a fire extinguisher? No. Would you want your future children to date someone like you as a teenager? I was a fine teenager, so sure. Are you unhappy at the moment? That's quite the understatement. When’s the last time you got in trouble with your parents? *shrug* How many children do you want? None. It's funny though, I had a dream last night that I gave birth to a daughter I of course named Alessandra. Have you ever watched Keeping Up With The Kardashians? No. Do you have any career ideas in mind? I have no desire to talk about this right now. Do you have any gay friends? Yeah. Are you gay yourself? I'm bi. Are you doing anything this weekend? Of course I'm not. But that's a surprise to nobody. How many brothers do you have? One. Do you like Mexican food? Only very few things. What’s your best friend’s pet’s name(s)? Oh man. Some are family pets more than hers, but regardless, there's Buster, Beasley, Winter, Martha, Crowley, Little Dot, Jane Marie, Doris, Raisha, and a bunch of other fish. Did you go to work today? I don’t have a job. .-. How old are you? How old do you act? 25. I think mentally I'm capable of acting older, but as far as "being an adult" goes, taking care of mature responsibilities, I'm a child. What size shoe do you wear? I... haven't worn anything but flipflops in so long that I barely know. I want to say an 8? 7 1/2 depending on the shoe? Are there any spiders in your room right now? I dunno. What was your favorite class during your sophomore year of high school? Art, for sure. Who’s your favorite Disney character? Probably Dory. Are there any framed pictures of you in your house? With my sisters, yes. Do you wear bandanas in your hair? No. Have you ever been on a blind date? No, not interested. Do you need to shave? My legs look like a gorilla's. My armpits, slightly. I shave them every time I shower, so I'll shave them soon. Are you wearing makeup right now? No. I never do nowadays. Do you know anyone named Laura? Not off the top of my head. Do you have any exercise equipment in your home? A few things. How many living grandparents do you still have? None. What are your plans for the rest of the day? Nothing, really. I hope I read today, though. I haven't the past couple days and I refuse to totally lose my habit of it again. How many times have you been sick this year? None. What colour is your toothbrush? White. Do you have a favourite author? No. How long do you usually take in the shower? Barely even 10 minutes. I do nooot understand how some people take so long. Clean yourself, get out. Like I get it if you're shaving or doing "extra" stuff besides washing your hair and body, but generally, how???? Have you ever worked in an office? No, but as I prepare to job search again, that's what I'm aiming for, I guess. It sounds like something I (including my legs, given I'd be sitting) could possibly handle. But yeah, you need experience in absolutely everything nowadays to get any job, it seems. Have you ever stayed in a hotel without your parents or older relatives? Yes. Have you ever kissed anyone under the mistletoe? I actually don't think I have. What’s your go-to activity when you’re bored? Watch YouTube. Who was the last person you texted? The lady who works in my psychiatrist's office to verify my next appointment date. Do you see yourself married in the next five years? Probably not, really. How long does it take you to get ready to go out? Barely over five minutes, or less, depending on what I have to do. Do you own any clothes you wouldn’t wear in front of your mother? No. Have you changed much this year? I haven't changed at all. And that's not a good thing. Is there a girl that you truly hate? A corner of my mind says yes. Even though I have no right to. Do you have any candles in your room? No, but I do have a wax warmer. Have you ever had to dial 911 before? A couple times for Mom. What’s something in your past that you’ll always remember? I'm almost certain even dementia couldn't take away my memory of the breakup. Did you have a good birthday this year? Yeah, it was good. How many people have told you they were in love with you? Two. Do you find smoking unattractive? Yes. How slowly or quickly would you say you eat? I eat way too fast, but I literally can't figure out how to change it. I try to slow down, but it just... doesn't stick. It's so engrained in me as a habit. Do you remember how you felt on 9/11? I was too young to remember this. What do you think of people who always wear make-up? You go for it, you look great. What’s a smell that absolutely makes you gag? Severely decaying roadkill is very high on the list. Is there a smell that gives you headaches? Gasoline. What about one that reminds you of the past? Play-Doh, for one. Childhood things like that. Also like those really fruity lip glosses, etc. What’s your least favorite thing about summer? The fucking heat and humidity. What’s your least favorite thing about the holiday season? The knowledge I don't have the money to buy like anyone presents. Especially my niece and nephew. Mom helps me buy something for them, but still... I feel like such a bad aunt that I can't do it myself. Other than yourself, who knows you the best? Whoever reads these, probably, ha ha. Do you have any embarrassing qualities and, if so, what are they? I'm just awkward in general. What’s one complaint that you have about school? Common Core. It's awful. What do you do while you’re on campus but not in class? I would just go to the library and do stuff on my laptop. Do you know anyone who has Autism/Asperger’s syndrome? Yes. It's questionable that I myself may have high-functioning autism. Has anyone of the same sex ever hit on you? Yeah. Are you open to a same-sex relationship and why or why not? Yes, because I'm bisexual. Have you ever dressed like or worn clothing belonging to the opposite sex? I would wear Jason's pj pants sometimes. Have you ever found yourself to be ugly? I've always believed I'm ugly. Have you read the Twilight series and do you like it or dislike it? I never read the series or watched the movies. Have you been on any type of online messengers today? I've used Discord to message Sara. What is your state’s minimum wage? $7.25 an hour. Disgusting. Do you own a tablet of any kind? No. If you eat eggs, how do you eat them? I only enjoy scrambled eggs or omelettes. When you’re upset, do you vent to people or do you keep to yourself? Nowadays, I tend to keep it to myself or vent through surveys. Have you ever watched a meteor shower? No, but I would love to. Do you like Slim Jims? OH MY GOD YESSSSSSSSSS. I want one now. What’s your opinion on the color turquoise? I think it's very pretty. Have you ever been in a castle? Only the Disney World one. When you were little, did you ever play with Play-Doh? Of course! I loved doing that. Would you rather write a mystery or love story? Hm... probably a love story. Are you afraid of getting shots? Kind of. I just hate the feeling of the medicine being injected, and long needles puncturing skin makes me want to squirm a bit. Needles in general though, I'm not afraid of. Would you ever run away and get married with no notifications to your family? Uh, no. I'm close with my immediate family and would want them to know. Have you ever wanted to vlog? Noooo. My life is so very boring, not to mention I would feel WAY too awkward. Who was the last person who unexpectedly texted you? No one unexpectedly texts me. Have you ever voluntarily read the Bible? Some of it. Have you ever thought that your life was so bad you wanted to give up? Many times. Do thunder & storms scare you? Actually, since I started having recurring tornado nightmares, I started to sort of fear them again. What are two foods you think only taste good with whipped cream? I hate whipped cream. If you eat it, what is your favorite way to eat beef? Cheeseburgers. Are you insecure about your height? What made you think this way? No. Did your last significant other have a huge temper? No. Would you ever think about doing porn? NOOOOOOOOO, even if I was in good shape. Would you ever cheat on someone if they cheated on you? No. That's not going to fix anything. Do you like getting jewelry or do you not wear any? I don't mind it, but I don't really wear it. When you were in high school did you ever have bomb threats? Once or twice. He was a... troubled kid. Did/Do you get school cancellations because of snow? Oh yes. My area flips shit if there's even a risk of like an inch of snow. Who knows ALL of your secrets? Nobody. Do you eat dinner with your family every night? No. Have you ever thought about what it would be like to have a baby right now? No, not really. That would be fucking awful. There's no way I'd be able to raise it. Have you used Limewire before? Back in the day. Are you/Were you in a band? If so, what was your band name? No. Have you ever tried cocaine or heroin? No thanks. Do you own any shirts with a peace symbol on it? No. I'd wear one, though. Have you ever dyed your hair light auburn? No. Ever had ice cream dots? Dippin' Dots? Yes. Do you have your national flag hanging up anywhere outside your house? No. Would you ever go to Japan? I'd like to. Have you ever been in a choir? When I was a kid in Catholic school, yes. What did you eat for breakfast today? Honey Nut Cheerios. When is the next time you’ll be up on stage? Preferably never.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''disguise'' by motionless in white

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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

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FIC: Assessing the Situation (baon)

Summary: Edge needs a mental health assessment to continue working at the Embassy.

Notes: I am not a therapist! My psych classes were a long time ago and I only have my own experiences to go by, so hey, take all of this with a grain of salt.Please be aware there is a mention of past suicidal thoughts, in case you find that triggering.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Angst, Therapy, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Doctor Lee resisted the urge to recross her legs as she watched her newest patient prowl around her office, inspecting the shelves. The tall skeleton’s expression did not change as he looked at the books and knickknacks, the plants that required only the barest minimum of sunlight and care.

“Your office is very clean,” Edge announced.

“I’ll be sure to relay that to the janitorial staff,” Lee said lightly. “I’m certain they’ll appreciate it.” She’d meant it as somewhat humorous, but Edge only nodded solemnly and still did not sit.

Doctor Lee only waited. Technically, her sessions usually ran about an hour, give or take depending on a patient’s current state or breakthrough. She took on patients sparingly and could afford to be discriminating. Her PhD was in Psychology and these days she was considering adding a clinical Monster psych specializing in PTSD to her resume. It was certainly an underappreciated field, though in her opinion, not an unexpected one. Monsters coming to the surface after years of being imprisoned under a Mountain, most for their entire lifetime and there were certain other issues that she couldn’t have begun to guess at when the first call came into her office. Alternate universes with alternate people, each with their own surrounding phenomenon; it was something of a learning experience for all of them. But trauma was trauma, that was her specialty and it was admittedly satisfying helping these people, and yes, they were people despite what a few of her so-called colleagues thought. These people needed her kind of help and Lee was here to offer it, in whatever way their trauma necessitated.

If that meant waiting for a skeleton whose visible scars likely only scratched the surface of his internal ones to become comfortable enough to sit, she would.

Doctor Lee had been in practice for some time before Monsters arrived in Ebott. She was middle-aged and in good health. Her carefully coiffed hair was naturally gray. No one would call her beautiful, but often she’d been described as handsome, with a certain resemblance to Glenn Close.

Considering resemblances, Edge held only the slightest to his husband. His appearance was likely a little disconcerting to most humans when they first met him, startling to people who weren’t used to seeing bare skulls outside of a filmed production. It was an unfortunate consequence of Monsters entering into the realm of myth before they resurfaced. There was no getting around the fact that in appearance, Monsters were very different than humans, and nothing but time would ease it. Of all the skeletons she’d met thus far, Edge was likely the most intimidating, with his glaring red eye lights and his fiercely sharp teeth. The natty way he was dressed was nearly incongruous, the line of his sleek, professional suit broken only by the splint strapped around one leg. The contrast to Papyrus’s near slovenliness was a point of interest, one that she discreetly added to her notes.

Normally, she wouldn’t have taken on a patient who was related to anyone she was already seeing; it could make for at best a conflict of interest and at worst, unconsciously taking sides. She’d already made an exception for Papyrus since she was already seeing Sans, but in their situation, she’d felt her familiarity with what Sans called ‘resets’ would be an advantage.

This was a special case and despite a discrete call from King Asgore encouraging her to take it on, she still wouldn’t have if she didn’t truly believe she could handle it, and she did. So she waited until Edge finally chose one of the chairs, settling into it with uncomfortably straight posture and looking directly at her with an intent crimson gaze. “I suppose you want to discuss the events in California.”

“We can,” Doctor Lee said, easily, “Do you want to talk about them?”

“No. But that’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” Edge said. His voice was crisp, businesslike, as if calling a meeting into order. “I’m here for you to give me a mental health assessment.”

“I’m only supposed to judge whether or not you should be back to work. We can talk about anything you like.”

“And if I don’t want to talk about anything?”

“That would be your choice,” Doctor Lee said, holding that calm, easy tone. “But it would make it difficult for me to make an assessment.”

Edge looked away, down at his trousers, frowning as he picked away invisible lint. “My husband doesn’t know I’m here. Not yet. Stretch. You told me before that he asked you to call him Papyrus.”

“I can’t discuss his therapy,” she began warningly

Edge waved that away. “I know that, I won’t ask. Did you know that my name is Papyrus as well?”

“I didn’t,” she admitted. She also did not write it down. Patients like this one were why she no longer wore glasses, to keep them from reading what she wrote in their reflection.

Now that he had a topic, Edge seemed to latch onto it. “That’s a rather long story. To simplify it, when I came here there were three of us named Papyrus and it was decided we needed nicknames. He took the name Stretch and I became Edge.” A pause, almost too brief to note, “There are times I think I shed the name Papyrus with unseemly haste, but the truth is, I don’t miss it. Stretch is less content with the choice, I think.” Edge fell into a considering silence, then said, “Do you suppose that it’s weaker to be so willing to abandon yourself than to try to remake it?”

Interesting and unexpected. Carefully, Doctor Lee asked, “Why would it be weaker?”

He didn’t answer that, only went on, “In my world…my former world…being unable to protect what’s yours is…was… a death sentence. Stretch usually allows me the illusion that I’m protecting him. And it is an illusion.” Edge seemed unaware of the way his hand drifted, fingering the Velcro straps of his leg splint. “He lets me care for him because he understands.” Edge smiled a little and the change in his face was remarkable, the way the sudden fond warmth eased the stark lines, “And I’m sure he enjoys it as much as I enjoy caring for him. I want to do little things for him, you understand? I want to make him happy.”

Another long silence that Doctor Lee made no attempt to fill, waiting until Edge spoke again, “You’re aware that he is much braver than I am.”

“Is he?” Lee said, neutrally. She set aside her notepad and instead, knotted her hands in her lap.

Edge nodded. “Oh, yes. It’s easy for me to play at courage. Stand and attack, stand and defend. But he comes in here,” he gestured vaguely at the room, “and opens his soul to you. You don’t think that’s brave?”

“I do, actually. It can be very difficult to take that first step,” Lee hesitated, then added, “I’m not sure I ever expected you to be in my office like this.”

“So you do think I’m less courageous than he is,” Edge countered, “that I would be unwilling to do what I’d demanded of him?” He smiled faintly. “You’re right. We wouldn’t be together much less married if Stretch…Papyrus… weren’t more courageous than I am.”

“Edge, you encouraged Stretch to come to therapy.” That was hardly breaking confidence to say.

“No.” He shook his head. “I forced him to come with an ultimatum.”

“Why?”

“Because he was hurting, and I couldn’t stand to see it. I was too weak to see it.” Edge hesitated, “I…I don’t know what he’s told you.”

Doctor Lee only sat, waiting.

“He’s been through so much and he allows me to protect him, as if he needs me,” Edge chuckled humorlessly. “Even I don’t know all the details of what he went through. People are always morbidly fascinated with Underfell, that I survived it, that I have LV. None of them look at Stretch and have any idea the strength he possesses. He made it through a living hell and still has it in himself to smile.

“So yes, I want him to have therapy. I want him to be able to feel safe and protected without lifting a finger of his own. I want him to feel loved because I love him.” A laundry list of wants, only for him to add, softer, “And perhaps it pains me to know what he’s been through but that’s nothing in comparison to what it’s done to him.”

He stood abruptly and wandered over to the window where bright sunshine was pouring in. Outside, she knew there was a tree, a strip of grassy land with a landscaped border of flowers before it led to the parking lot. Edge looked out the window as he said, softly, “The greatest shame of my life is that I didn’t realize when we first met that he wanted to die, and he simply couldn’t do it himself.”

Doctor Lee knew that situation, remembered the day, many therapy appointments in when Papyrus finally spoke so flatly about his past suicidal thoughts until that unfeelingness broke down somewhere in the middle into tears and she suspected very much that Edge did not. “It isn’t your fault you didn’t realize.”

“No, it’s not,” Edge said agreeably and every word was a denial. He slanted a glance back at Doctor Lee. “Did he ever tell you about our first kiss?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” she countered.

Closed his sockets briefly, opened them, then stepped away from the window. He moved restlessly, tucking his hands into his pockets. Perhaps resisting the urge to fidget. “I’m not here to discuss that,” he said, then almost immediately after, “He’s my everything.”

“Do you think that’s a good thing, for him to be everything for you?”

The look he cast her way was scathing. “You aren’t clever, and I was being hyperbolic. Obviously, I have other things in my life and so does he, we have plenty of our own hobbies, our own work.”

“All right.” Neutral, gentle, as she watched Edge pace, again prowling her office, this time with the restless energy of a caged tiger.

“He can be so frustrating!” A sudden burst of almost unwilling words, “He keeps secrets from me, but he’ll show me his very essence and I tell him nothing but truths and can’t do the same!”

“His essence?” Doctor Lee leaned forward, intrigued. “That doesn’t sound like a metaphor.”

“It’s not. He’ll let me see his soul,” Edge whispered, hushed and reverent. He pulled his hands out of his pockets to look at his spread, empty fingers, the thin bones covered by black gloves. “Let me touch it. That’s an incredibly intimate thing to Monsters. It takes an extreme amount of trust. His soul is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and when I hold it, I can feel how much he loves me. And I can’t show him mine in return.”

He fell silent. “Why not?” Doctor Lee asked, offering him the question he seemed to need.

“Because!” Edge snarled. He was breathing harshly, heaving, and she held her own breath, almost ready to call an end to this session; it was already far deeper than she’d expected to delve in a first appointment, falling down a mine shaft in terms of psychology, and she could only wonder how long he’d been waiting to say these things, how long they’d been trapped festering inside him, dammed up until the floodgates broke. He took a long, steadying breath, another, then said, achingly soft, “Because if he looked at the very essence of my being and rejected me, I…I couldn’t—I know he wouldn’t. I know that. And by equal measure, I know he would. That if he saw what I truly am, he would. Is it selfish of me to not want to take the chance?”

Doctor Lee chose her words carefully, “I’m not sure I’m qualified to judge anything about sharing souls. But I know that Humans can have a difficult time sharing their most intimate secrets with others. I don’t think that it makes you selfish to have a difficult time making yourself vulnerable.”

It was the wrong thing to say. She realized it almost immediately as his expression closed off. Edge nodded stiffly and made an obvious show of glancing at his phone as he said dismissively, “I believe our time is up, thank you for seeing me, Doctor—”

“Edge, why are you here?” Doctor Lee interrupted. She spread her hands, indicating her clean office, with its cozy chairs and uncomfortable questions. “What do you want from this?”

“I needed an assessment to return to work,” he said immediately, “I have a responsibility to our kind and they need me. Rus trusts you with his mental health, so I must be able to trust you with mine.”

She had no doubt he truly believed that, as far as that went. “What is it you think Papyrus wants from me?”

Edge frowned. “He needs professional support and you provide it.”

“Yes.” She studied him closely. “Do you resent that?”

It could be difficult for her to accurately assess a Monster’s facial expressions, but there was no mistaking Edge’s sudden sharp anger as he snapped out, “Why would I resent him for things he can’t control?”

“I didn’t ask if you resented him,” Cool, calm, always. “I asked if you resented that I can support him when you can’t.”

That flash of anger collapsed inwardly and for the briefest moment, Edge looked uncertain, “I…no. No, it’s only…I want to support him, but in some areas, I simply can’t.” And then, as if his own honestly was upsetting, “But I would never make him feel that I resent him!”

“Of course not,” Doctor Lee soothed, “That’s why I’m here, to give you a place to direct that anger and resentment. I can be your lightning rod if that’s what you need.”

“I’m not sure what I need,” Edge admitted. That it displeased him was obvious. Doctor Lee was positive that this was a person who did not like being unsure about anything.

She hadn’t been sure herself, at first, whether she could accept him as a patient past the assessment. Now she only said, “We could work on that, too. If you want.”

He stood there silently, and she didn’t think she imagined the lingering flicker of his uncertainty.

“Do you know why Papyrus really came to see me, that first time?” Doctor Lee said. She waited, holding back the answer until Edge shook his head. “Because the truth is, he wanted help. I can’t offer that to someone who is completely adverse. Can I be frank with you?”

“I’d prefer it.”

“Yes, therapy might help you. But it isn’t a requirement. You’re getting through your day to day life without issues, am I correct?”

“You are.”

“And sleeping through your nights. You’re happy enough with your status quo. Would therapy help? It might. Growth can be painful,” she said, and it wasn’t a warning, only a truth, “But we are usually better for it. If you decide to eventually try therapy, it will be here when you’re ready.”

Edge nodded, slowly, and seemed to be considering her words. He said, “I still need an assessment done. Will you send one to Asgore?”

“I was prepared to send that right when you proved you were able to walk through my door,” Doctor Lee admitted, “I think you’re perfectly capable of returning to work.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Edge gave her a formal nod and only waited for her to return it before he turned on his heel and walked out, hindered only by his slight limp.

She watched him go and waited until the door closed behind him before she sighed, deeply. She could only help those who wanted to be helped and that was the truth, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t be frustrated when the offered hand was ignored.

Her notepad was still sitting on the side table. She picked it up and instead of working on her notes, doodled a little picture of a chicken, cartoonishly absurd. Papyrus kept chickens and spoke about them often with great fondness. Once, he’d even brought her a carton of eggs, after nervously asking her about the ethics of such a gift. They’d been delicious poached on toast.

She was adding a cartoon bubble over its head with the unimaginative dialogue of ‘cluck it’ when her phone buzzed with a text message. She picked up the phone and unlocked it, reading the message from a known, unexpected number.

Please let me know your available appointment times for next week.

Doctor Lee smiled.

-finis-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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