#but i was just met with a concerned look and suddenly i was overwhelmed w guilt and just started crying (damn i cry a lot dont i)

[danothan]

i think above all else, i tie my aro identity to my autism. like sometimes i wonder if i’m aro just bc i’m autistic, and ykw that’s totally fine for me lol

and while we’re at it, that might be the case for my gender too. being non-binary is quite literally rejecting the binary, and being aro basically subscribes you to relationship anarchy, which also inherently rejects societal norms

that’s so peculiar to me now looking back on myself as a child. i knew romance and gender weren’t fake, but they definitely didn’t feel real lol. i wonder if other queer ppl felt this early on too, and if being neurodivergent makes a difference

i remember being incredibly frustrated every time gender was brought up with validity. “boys and girls” was like saying “cats and dogs.” it’s a phrase to communicate an idea, but we all know they’re not the only ones. romance didn’t rly frustrate me so much as it felt like participating in a game. it was fun choosing ppl to have a crush on, until i was on the receiving end. like, we’re still playing, right?

ppl always say autism means you don’t get social cues, but i don’t think i was misunderstanding anything. i think i was just questioning their value

[solxamber]

Heyya saw you're still open, so I will request my favorite character. I've been seeing a lot of RSA!Silver. So it's about Silver and MC/Yuu still not in relationships. Then some shenanigans happen. Where there's RSA version Silver shows up. I'm not sure if he can be a different character or personality, but the interpretation is up to you.

Imagine how RSA! Silver can be more up front showing affection to Yuu but Silver is not. It ends up confusing Yuu's feelings and makes Silver try his best to show his affection too. It's making RSA!Silver and Silver fighting over Yuu. Hopefully no problem.

Silver x reader x RSA! Silver

loved the idea! thank you for waiting and i hope you like it <3

It all starts during a spell misfire, and suddenly an RSA student who looks exactly like Silver but acts a little differently is standing in the middle of the headmaster’s office, looking only mildly concerned. “Well, well, what do we have here?” Crowley had crowed, immediately shoving the “guest” into your care.

The RSA Silver is… different. He’s friendlier, more open, and somehow even a little more dazzling with that unguarded smile he flashes your way. He introduces himself as a knight-in-training who’s proud to serve his prince with a wink and, surprisingly, a slight bow directed at you.

“This should be fun!” he says with a laugh, catching your stare.

Silver — your Silver — is already watching from the shadows, his calm gaze hardening when he sees RSA Silver’s warmth towards you. Normally, Silver isn’t easily rattled, but he finds himself lingering close, always observing this other version of himself who seems so openly comfortable with you.

The jealousy is subtle at first: he stands a little closer, making excuses to keep you nearby when RSA Silver is around.

And you? You’re a little bewildered yourself. This easy-going RSA Silver is affectionate in ways you aren’t used to — patting your shoulder when you’re joking, walking close enough to brush your arm, offering to help you with even the most minor tasks.

He’s friendly, sure, but it stirs up a mix of confusing emotions when compared to the quieter, more reserved Silver you know.

One afternoon, RSA Silver and Silver both linger in the garden as you sit with them. You’re laughing at something RSA Silver says, and he leans in, his expression soft. “I know we only just met, but it feels like I’ve known you for ages. When I leave, would you—”

Silver clears his throat, cutting RSA Silver off. “There’s no need to trouble them,” he says, almost flatly, surprising you with the way his usually calm expression is edged with something sharper.

RSA Silver just smirks. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” he teases, crossing his arms. “But it’s cute.”

Silver’s jaw clenches. He moves closer, his presence steady and warm at your side, more open than usual. His gaze softens when he looks at you, a small but genuine smile on his lips. “I don’t think you need anyone else,” he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear.

By the time RSA Silver’s two days are nearly up, the confusion you feel is almost overwhelming. Your heart’s been tugged between two versions of the same person, each showing you a different side.

When RSA Silver finally approaches you, his expression is thoughtful, almost reluctant. “I’ll be leaving soon, but… I’d like you to come with me. My world could use someone like you.”

It’s tempting, for a moment. You glance at Silver, the one who’s been by your side all along, steady and loyal, the one whose quiet strength has already won your heart.

You shake your head with a soft smile, looking back at RSA Silver. “I appreciate it, but… I think I’ve already found what I’m looking for here.”

RSA Silver accepts your answer gracefully, with a small, wistful smile. “He’s lucky, then,” he says, clapping Silver on the shoulder in a final parting gesture before disappearing in a swirl of magic.

As soon as he’s gone, Silver’s gaze locks onto yours. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his hand reaching for yours. “I… I wasn’t sure if you—” His words trail off, and without thinking, you lean up and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I always liked you, Silver. Just you.”

His face softens, his cheeks just barely pink, and he smiles — the genuine smile you don’t see very often. “I was hoping you'd say that”

Masterlist

[unforgettwble-sumii]

𝐌𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 ☆ — W. A

(Wednesday x fem!reader 📖)

⭐ When Wednesday becomes unsure with her feelings, you come at the right time to comfort her.

⭐ Warnings ‼️: ooc! Wednesday, maybe some swearing (?)

⭐ word count: 845

a/n: Hi my dolls, I have no idea what this is but I hope you guys enjoy. I also tried making the font bigger because I realized that it was actually quite hard to read with the small font size I often use, and also since most of you guys liked the bigger font. ε(🎀｡・"・)з

—

Wednesday huffed, her gaze fixed on the piece of paper in front of her. It was now her writing time, but she wasn't feeling as inspired as usual.

She didn't know why no ideas were coming to her; just last night, she had grand plans for a new chapter, but now that it was time to type them down, they seemed to have vanished from her memory.

Perhaps she was too busy with the investigations that she had let the ideas slip her mind. Nevertheless, this was frustrating her. Her mind clouded intensely, whatever she was feeling, she did not like it. She felt vulnerable; it was absolute torture for the young girl; torture she did not like.

She cleared her throat, changing her gaze from the piece of paper to the window. She has never felt this unmotivated.

She stared out the window for a couple of minutes. She hasn't even realized that she hadn't blinked at all; she's too lost in her thoughts.

Suddenly, all the current events came flooding through her mind. From the luckless investigations to you almost dying because of her. The feeling of guilt quickly washing over her. The feeling of it never leaving her.

She was drowned by the overwhelming thoughts, not realizing a stray tear had rolled down from her eye. She snapped out of her trance, quickly wiping the tear. She looked at the wall, unsure of what she was feeling. Her black heart somehow felt softer and weaker.

Soon, more tears came down. She tried her best to wipe them, to no avail. They just kept rolling down her cheek, and soon her chest started to heave.

She promised herself after what happened to Nero—her scorpion, which was unfortunately run over by a bicycle. That she would never cry because it never solved anything. It just made her feel fragile.

However, she broke that promise. She looked so helpless that she internally cringed. She needed something. Something to clear her mind and help her solve her messed up feelings. Or perhaps, a someone.

—

You knocked on the door with a beat, eyes beaming with excitement. You hadn't seen Wednesday all day and thought that paying her dorm room a visit would be a great idea.

A few seconds passed, and no one opened the door. 'Maybe she's not here? ', you thought to yourself. You slightly felt bumped; your excitement was slowly fading. You decided to wait and not barge in uninvited. Maybe Wednesday was just taking her time.

You knocked a second time.

Wednesday heard it this time around and quickly stood up. She made her way to the door, opening it and facing you.

"It's late." Wednesday deadpanned.

"I know, I just wanted to pay you a vi-" you audibly gasped.

"Oh my...have you been crying?" Your tone in voice softening with each word.

Wednesday was stunned with your question, you can see her slightly struggle to respond.

"May I come in?" You asked, to which Wednesday nodded.

You sat at her neatly arranged bed, patting the space beside you; motioning to her to sit with you. She made her way to her bed, maintaining the stoic expression, but not once looking you in the eye.

"What's wrong?" Brows furrowed, concern lacing your voice.

Usually, when someone asked her this question, she would not answer and simply walk away, completely shutting the person off. But after she met you and the two of you started dating, she slowly started to open up. You slowly carved away the hard stone bricks that had caged her little black heart.

She sighed, unsure of what to say. Then, she glanced at you. Your face held a sympathetic expression that encouraged Wednesday to let whatever she was feeling out.

"I am frustrated. No ideas are coming to mind for my book, irrelevant clues that leave me to nowhere, and one that has been bothering me for a while now; the fact that you had your life at line because of me."

She sighed once again before she spoke. "I don't want to put you in danger, Amore."

The endearing nicknames Wednesday called you always made your heart swell.

"I don't care whether I have to go through the deepest darkest pits of hell, as long as I end up in your arms. I choose to be with you even in the most dangerous situations, because I love you, Wednesday. You overwork yourself to exertion, so much so that you barely get enough sleep. Please, get some rest."

You held her hand as you spoke. Each word that flowed from your mouth, uplifted Wednesday's heart.

You slowly engulfed her in a gentle yet heartwarming hug that caught her off guard. She didn't say anything back, but you could feel her slowly melt into the hug and you knew she understood what you had said.

She knew that no matter what happened, you'd always be by her side, in her arms.

She also knew she would face the most heinous and terrifying beast ever conceived to keep you safe.

"I love you too, Tesorina."

— ⭐ ©unforgettwble-sumii's work. Pls do not repost, steal modify, or translate.

[sleepyhutcherson]

wish i wasn’t so tired

on your way back home an argument between you and mike gets heavy when the words “this isn’t love, is it?” slips from one of you.

pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader

word count: 1.2k

contains: argument, use of y/n, miscommunication, angst, reference to marriage, not a happy ending? boygenius lyrics being referenced </3

a/n: tired of writing fluff (jk i love fluff) but i come from a miserable fandom (before i entered the jhutch one) aaand im so used to writing heavy angst. anyway, i should be working on my request not this but :p

What a perfect scenery to go with the intense argument. the rain angrily hits against the window drowning out any sound with the harshness of it. Unfortunately, not enough to drown your voice nor Mike’s, the rain mimicking the aggression and anger of your voices.

“I don’t remember,” Mike repeats, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight enough his knuckles turned white. He was speeding, trying to get home.

“I just want to know what happened! You came home with your knuckles busted, blood everywhere and you’re suddenly unemployed, and you won’t even tell me what happened?!” You're facing him but his focus is on the road (as it should) and there’s this dull, emotionless expression on his face that makes you feel alone.

He doesn’t say anything and for a moment you think maybe he won’t say anything at all. He continues driving, his gaze fixated on the road while you stare at him feeling so stupid. You close your eyes, wishing you could disappear from this moment. Wishing you could just apologise to him, but you knew better, you had no reason to apologise to him. You were just concerned about him, you just wanted to know why his knuckles were bloody.

You blink when you realise Mike is pulling to the side of the road, putting the car in park.

“This isn’t love, is it?” Mike asks, meeting your eyes now. There’s a sadness to them that you’re familiar with, you see those sad brown eyes whenever he’s overwhelmed, stressed, tired of work, when his aunt calls, when abby ignores him after an argument but never towards you.

And those words. the question. The genuine curiosity to his tone when he asked it.

“W-What?” You stammer, hoping that maybe you misheard him. But you knew you didn’t.

“I mean, all we do is argue.” You sit up straight, turning away from Mike. You stare straight forward, you wish the road wasn’t so empty maybe you could distract yourself by looking for different licences plates.

You swallow, your throat dry suddenly. “Then what is it?” If it’s not love then what it is?

None of you have a response which only makes it worse. You loved mike, you really did, you never doubted that. There was a moment a few months ago where the two of you referenced getting married soon, Mike giddy about proposing, and you were over the moon about the idea.

And now?

Mike loves you, he’s never felt so in love with someone until he met you, never felt more loved by anyone else but you. But recently, his job has been killing him and he’s only worked at it for three days. his sleeping schedule is fucked, he isn’t ever really sleeping like most people do, not in the way that one falls asleep to get rest but in the way that he’s going back to the same dream every night looking for something—or, someone, in his case. His aunt is trying to take custody of Abby and he can’t let that happen but God he’s so fucking scared.

But he won’t say any of this to you. Not about how stressed he’s been, how tired, how scared and sad. Fuck’s sake you don’t even know that he could lose custody of Abby.

“Maybe it isn’t,” You say, not daring to turn to look at Mike. “But can…can I at least pretend that you love me?” Your voice is small, ready to break.

Mike’s brows furrow, he can hear the hurt in your voice. He hates hurting you. He can never just shut the fuck up can he? He didn’t mean to say what he did, he really didn’t. “Y/n, I… I do love you, so, so much.” Mike reaches for you, cupping your face, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes are watery, full of tears that are ready to spill.

“You do love me?” You ask, looking up, your eyes locked with Mike’s. He frowns at your words.

“I’ll always love you. I hate hurting you. I’m so sorry.” He says through a clenched jaw, his words a little sharp layered with a desperation to get you to believe him. He pulls you in, peppering kisses on your face. it’s not enough, he thinks, you deserve so much more than this—than him.

“Then why do you?” You whisper, bringing Mike to halt. He pulls from you, staring at you with the most hurt expression you think you’ve ever seen. “I just…just want to know you—to help you, but you’re always pushing me away.”

He looks down at his bruised knuckles with shame, falling quiet suddenly. You know about his brother, about the entire incident, and about his parents but he never told you just how much it all affected him. how it still affects him.

You place your hand over his, gently rubbing over the healing bruise. They looked nasty even after days, too vicious for Mike. He loves how you touch him, he doesn’t care that his knuckles sting at the touch because he longs for your touch, desperate for it. He becomes more needy for it while you two are arguing, he wishes he could just pull you in while you were biting at each other, wanting nothing more but to be held by you. He would allow you to continue to bite, he wouldn’t mind if you continued to sink your teeth into him; he would take the pain, endure it even…if you just held him.

“I’m sorry,” he manages to say, “I wish I wasn’t so tired...” he exhales, trying to keep his voice steady. “But I’m tired.” It comes out weaker than he hoped, his words falling and breaking.

“oh, Mike,” you sigh, reaching up and now it’s your turn: you cup his face, your other hand reaching up to run it through his curls. “Talk to me. you know that’s what i’m here for.” You keep your tone gentle, stroking his cheek softly with your thumb.

Mike knows this. he knows that if he could talk to anyone that it would definitely be you. He just can’t. he doesn’t understand it either, doesn’t know why he can’t just open up.

He doesn’t want to talk, not really. He doesn’t want you to think he’s broken. he doesn’t want you to know how much of a mess he is, how he thinks his life is slowly falling apart right now. How he might lose custody of his little sister. How he’s looking for his brother in his dreams that are turning into nightmares. How he thinks he may be losing you, too.

“Can we just go home?” He croaks, his eyes welling up with tears. He doesn’t want to cry. He doesn’t want you to see him cry either.

You frown. You just wanted to be there for him, you wish he would let you help him, if that’s too much for him then you’ll sit there and listen. You just wanted to know what was hurting him, who hurt him. God, you just wish you could read his mind.

You frown when he pulls away from you starting up the car. You just wanted to help. You wanted to take whatever struggles he had, most of all you wanted to know what he was struggling with. What was bothering him? If only he talked to you. But clearly he wasn’t going to open up anytime soon.

You force an “okay,” accepting your loss.

[sourbinnie]

Can I request a fic Where Hyunjin comes back home to you from the Versace event thingy and he’s just really emotional because he thinks he didn’t do well w his English and outfit n stuff but then you comfort him and promise him that he did great and that you’re proud of him and it’s all cute and fluffy🥹

title -> pieces genre -> hurt/comfort pair -> hyunjin x gn!reader a/n: hope this is what you wanted! thank you sm for the request<3

i knew his flight was delayed and that he wasn't getting here as early as we expected to. i got home from work and decided to make it as comfortable as it was just for him, just so he wouldn't have to worry about anything at all. i was so proud of my boyfriend for making it this big and having a chance to fly out and enjoy a fashion show. i knew his passion for clothes and creating them, it was really exciting that he got this opportunity. it was good publicity not only for the band, but for the fact that the person wearing these clothes was an incredible human being that deserved all the love & praise he was getting. they deserved to know that hwang hyunjin was a magnificent person, just as charming as when i first met him.

even if it was late and i had work in the morning, i decided to stay up and wait for him. i just didn't wanna welcome him home with my sleeping figure and the fact that we were probably not gonna see each other tomorrow morning, just made me want to stay up more. 

the hours passed and it felt like an eternity but i remained strong as yawn after yawn escaped from me. that's when i heard the door to our apartment unlock and i turned off the tv. i got up and smiled as i saw him, he was wearing another outfit (clearly versace again) and he looked as breathtaking as one could be. it took me by surprise when i suddenly felt his arms wrap around me and give me the sweetest of hugs but i responded back fast as i hugged him. my hand going to his hair to rub him and the other one on his cheek to make him look at me.

i knew that expression way too well. he was feeling insecure, about what? i would have to ask. for now we stayed there hugging and looking at each other, mumbling "i love you" and not stopping. that's when i felt a tear drop fall from him and i decided to take him to the couch to sit us down and actually conversate about what was going.

"jinnie, talk to me when you're ready, okay?" i said and he nodded quickly as more tears were escaping his eyes. he grabbed my hands to trace patterns and distract himself but the sadness was clearly overwhelming. i've seen him distraught before, it was nothing new but it concerned me either way. what if he felt this way when he was at the event? in a foreign country? and i could not be there for him. 

it made a feeling in my chest that stung but i held on as i wiped away his tears. i knew he could get emotional and he didn't mind showing his feelings at all but sometimes he wouldn't say what was happening and i was worried it would be one of those days until he finally spoke up.

"too much." he said as he choked back on his sobs and i looked at him again. "it was too much. i don't know how i got through it without making a scene." 

"what do you mean baby?" i asked as i handed him a tissue to wipe the new tears that wouldn't stop. "you didn't feel comfortable in the event?".

"not at all." he said with a broken laugh as his eyes met mine again, reddish and with a deep kind of sadness buried in them. i was starting to realize what was going on, i knew my babe was an introvert, i knew how hard for him was to interact, to be out there, especially in those kinds of shows where you were so exposed. "i felt ridiculous, like i can't even speak english properly and even if they insisted for me to talk in korean, i wanted to prove myself and i failed."

hyunjin wasn't fluent in english, i knew that but he tried his damn hardest and this broke my heart. there was no one that put as much effort and love for the language than him and i wish he would see that but i would let him talk before i ramble too much.

"also the outfit, everyone had the fanciest stuff and i was just standing there. feeling so left out and stupid. god, why did they invite me if i was gonna be humiliated like this?" he exclaimed as i tried to put the pieces together. i didn't notice anyone being extra luxurious on the pictures that i've seen. just lots of people wearing the versace outfits they were offered, maybe he felt like it was too little but i think it was perfect. "i just feel like i'm never enough, i can never be myself and be enough for a place. it was so hard to interact with people (y/n), i don't know what i do wrong."

"nothing." i said clear as water and he looked at me confused. "you might feel like you're failing with your english, with the outfit or the scenery but you really aren't doing anything wrong jinnie".

"i just wished you were there with me." as much as i would love to agree with him, we couldn't be seen due to his contract. but yeah to be by his side and take care of him would be truly a blessing and if it helps him that's what matters.

"babe i know but for now you're probably gonna have to attend more of these. i think you looked beautiful, you always do and it's hard to not look at you when you walk in the room." i said as he blushed and i just smiled 'cause his shyness was just so adorable of him. "i truly mean that, the outfit wasn't extravagant but it fit you and you're not that. you create such a comfortable atmosphere and you have so much love to give that's hard not to fall for you".

"you're just saying that because you have to." he said as he looked down and intertwined his fingers with mine, comfortable touches from his hand to mine as i made him look at me again.

"i'm saying it because it's true." i said firmly and with an honest look in my eyes. "also your english might not be perfect but you can communicate well and people understand what you say baby. you have a really sweet way with words and everyone was mesmerized by it." 

"do i?" he said and i could see in his eyes he was starting to believe me.

"you do! it's really beautiful how you talk." i said smiling as i thought about the many times he studied english and asked felix or chan for advice. "overall and for real, i am proud of you. proud of how far you've come and how much you're gonna show to the world. proud of the effort you put it in for a language that's not your own. proud of the representation you're giving. i am so happy that you get to do these things so people can see you and see the man i fell in love with."

he was again teary eyed but i was hoping it was happy ones instead of cruel & sad ones. i could feel another hug coming in as i held him. he whispered "thank you" so many times that his voice got hoarse from all the crying and the repeating. i just held him in my arms and kissed his forehead. 

"you're the best significant other i could ask for." he said and i just smiled.

"that's you jinnie." i responded as i gave him a little peck. "let's go to bed yeah? it's been a long day for you."

[stars-n-spice]

Buir be Ner - (Father of Mine)

Happy Father's day! Here's a little fic I wrote about the day Wrecker found out he's suddenly a father :)

Summary: Khea's been keeping her Foundling a secret from Wrecker for quite some time now. However, she can't keep her hidden forever so she decides that today is the day she'll finally introduce them to each other. She can only hope it goes well.

Word Count: 6.7K

Warnings: N/A

Khea didn’t know what the hell she was going to do. 

As she paced back and forth in the Jade Rabbit she thought of all the possible scenarios that could and might happen until her head hurt from the onslaught of overwhelming feelings and emotions that brewed inside of her like a storm. That drowning feeling–she despised it–feeling like she was sinking in her own thoughts, but she couldn’t help herself. 

What would he say? What would he do? Would he even want to be with her anymore? 

Every thought pulled her further and further in until it felt like she was suffocating inside her own ship. Until it felt like she was drowning underneath the waves of the Living Waters where the mythosaur was awaiting to bring her back home. Sinking…falling…frozen in place with no sign or hope for help as black dots took over her vision and the water filled her lungs as the light from the surface got dimmer and dimmer…

“Buir?”

Khea was snapped out of her dark thoughts when the soft sound of a little girl’s voice calling for her pulled her from the waves.

A voice that belonged to Itri, the young Zabrak she’d found on her travels several months ago, alone, abandoned, and afraid on Nar Shaddaa. A place no youngling should ever have to be in, especially not as young as her. Unable to leave her there, Khea decided that she would take Itri in. She would raise her as a Foundling. As her own.

And now that she was reunited with Wrecker once more on Pabu, she had no idea how to tell him about Itri. 

“Ad’ika,” Khea greeted softly, frowning at the worried look on Itri’s face as she slowly approached the young Zabrak. “Me’bana? What’s wrong?” she asked, tilting her head with a small, concerned frown as she knelt down to get to Itri’s height. 

Itri’s breath hitched a little when Khea got close and she shifted on her feet, lowering her head as she glanced down and fiddled with the end of her braid nervously. 

“W-why can’t I come out of the ship yet…?” she asked in a whisper, almost as if she was ashamed to ask such a question. 

At this, Khea’s heart sank and her frown deepened as a pang of guilt hit her square in the chest like a blaster bolt. They had landed on Pabu nearly three rotations ago, but Khea hadn’t let Itri off the ship to meet the others just yet. Instead, she had her long awaited reunion with Wrecker and his brothers, met Crosshair for the first time, and explored their new home of Pabu with them and Phee. All the while she kept Itri in her ship, staying with her at night and throughout the day with the excuse that she needed time to rest and recover from her travels while also adjusting to being back so nobody bothered her in the Jade Rabbit. 

She wasn’t going to let Itri out. Not until she figured out how to drop the news on them that she was suddenly a mother, more so specifically to Wrecker. It was a big reveal and she didn’t want to mess things up, but after hearing Itri’s soft and almost pleading voice, she feared that she’d already messed up. 

“I”m sorry, ad’ika,” Khea apologized as she slowly reached out to cup Itri’s cheek. At first the young girl flinched at her touch, but when she realized it was a comforting action over anything, she leaned into the touch and finally tilted her head up to meet Khea’s eyes.

“I…I needed to make sure it was safe for you,” she explained, gently caressing Itri’s cheek in a soothing manner, not entirely lying to her since Khea did in fact want to make sure that Pabu was a safe enough place for her. 

 “But…” she drew a breath, deciding to rip the bandage off and jump into it head first like she tended to do with things. “But you can come out now…” 

At this, Itri’s eyes lit up and a small smile tugged at her lips–a look and a reaction that made Khea’s heart swell with adoration.

“R-really?” She whispered, sounding eager now. 

Khea chuckled softly and nodded, pulling her hand away as she stood back up. “Yes, ner ad’ika, it’s safe and you can come out now,” she assured, holding her hand out for Itri to take it. 

Itri stared for a moment or two before she took Khea’s hand and looked up at her expectedly, the small smile still on her orange and black features. 

Khea nearly melted at the sight, at those big, wide brown eyes staring back at her with such hope and trust. She had to take a moment to compose herself, looking away and clearing her throat as she did her best not to let her mind race like before. 

She could do this. 

READ THE REST ON AO3!

[hexpea]

Ch. 11 - Cursed A/N: T/W: Treatment of medical event from previous chapter.

Ieiri arrived almost instantly, Satoru in tow with his own concerned look. Clearly she had contacted him so that he could port her to you. You couldn't argue about his presence, he had his uses. The two of them were still dressed from the club, you included. Just before things fell into the rush of emergency care, you noted the slight red, puffiness to Satoru's usually immaculate face. The blue of his eyes was brighter than ever against his irritated capillaries. But that had to wait.

Ieiri immediately began her work by getting onto her knees beside your partner, quickly rolling Seiko to his side. Satoru silently stood by watching with unspoken concern. Ieiri briefly took their vitals as Seiko's body remained stiff.

"It looks like a seizure," she noted and looked up at you urgently. "How long has this been going on?"

"S-since I got home," you stuttered, "so at least ten minutes or more."

"Way too long," she muttered as she gently held their body. "They could have severe damage to their brain if this doesn't get under control."

Her words made you panic even further as you knelt down beside Seiko and placed a delicate hand on their shoulder.

"C'mon, Seiko," you whispered with tears in your eyes, "come back to me."

Satoru watched as you comforted your partner, heartstrings within his chest tightening until they were nearly taut enough to break. He hated seeing the pain and panic in your eyes, his care for you rising to the surface of his expression. He also hated himself for potentially tainting something that made you happy. Meanwhile, Ieiri quickly reached into her pocket and pulled out what looked to be a syringe of some kind. She ripped the cap off with her teeth to reveal its blunt end. In the same moment, she placed its tip between Seiko's cheek and gums and pressed the plunger.

"Midazolam," she muttered with focus, "if this is a seizure, this should get it under control."

The three of you watched quietly with patient worry as Seiko's muscles slowly began to loosen and their eyes closed. Their breathing began to regulate with the passage of time. Eventually, they were able to open their eyes and come to. They looked completely confused and overwhelmed by the sudden crowd around them. They moved their jaw to loosen the sore muscles. Just as they started to sit up, they quickly noticed the pain in their muscles, particularly their back, from the event. They winced at the pain as they slowly sat up.

"Ow," they groaned as they moved to sit on their bottom. You had clasped your hand over your mouth as tears of relief came.

"Welcome back," Ieiri chuckled. "You just had a seizure. How do you feel?"

Seiko swallowed hard and again looked between the three of you as they got used to their surroundings, noting the taste of blood on their tongue. "Fine, I think," their voice was audibly hoarse.

"What happened? Who was it?" You asked in an almost accusatory tone, your voice rushed and panicked. Your furrowed brow was quite intimidating as Seiko silently looked up at you and swallowed hard.

They gave you a telling look but proceeded to lie anyways. "It's just...epilepsy. I...have it."

You sighed with desperate relief and wrapped your arms around their neck in an embrace, aware of the lie but happy to have them back. They hesitantly accepted your embrace, still a bit thrown off from all of the activity. But Satoru knew what you were talking about. Seiko's energy, as you had noted earlier, was off. His eyes saw everything. He couldn't see 'who' but the energy radiating off of his being was definitely not that of a normal non-shaman, let alone that of a standard first-grade sorcerer. They were nearly radiating special grade cursed energy. There was something off about Seiko when Satoru first met them, but this was suddenly off the charts. He had originally kept his mouth shut but with the escalation of events, something needed to be said. But not here, not now.

"Uh huh," Ieiri responded to Seiko with suspicion. "Anyways," she began, standing up and looking down at the two of you. She wasn't one to want to get wrapped up in things unless asked directly. "I definitely recommend following up with your neurologist when you get home, then. A seizure presenting like that for that long is very abnormal. And if you have another one, definitely go to the ER." She leaned down to hand you some extra syringes filled with the rescue medication, just in case it were to happen again.

"Right," Seiko muttered to themselves while you knelt next to them with your hand in theirs. You took the medication Ieiri offered with your free hand and glanced worriedly at Seiko.

"Gojo," she looked over toward him as he now stood casually with his hands in his pockets, "take me home, please." She felt hesitant to leave you, but knew she could be one phone call away should you need it.

"Yes, ma'am," Satoru chuckled and placed a hand on her shoulder, suddenly teleporting them out of the room.

With that, you and Seiko were left to your own devices. You helped them up so that they could sit properly on the sofa. Their muscles still ached, their face contorted with pain as you moved them. Once you had them seated, you took a step back and crossed your arms. You had a look of disapproval.

"Can you please tell me what's going on?" You nearly begged with a bit of attitude in your voice. "I know you don't have epilepsy. You would've told me or it should've come up one way or another. I doubt you'd really keep something like that a secret from me. ...Would you?"

They stared at you with hesitance, their mind searching their options. It seemed like they were almost listening to someone that only they could see. "It was controlled...until now," they lied through their teeth. "And don't talk about secrets," they began while glaring up at you. "We're here because of your arranged marriage you somehow 'failed' to tell me about. And you spent the night at his place as if that was something I can just shrug off." Hatred seeped into their words. You'd honestly never seen Seiko like this before. It was as if they were suddenly an entirely different person.

"Nothing happened, Seiko." Now you, too, were in on the lies.

"Oh please," they rolled their eyes and stood up, albeit with pain. You had never taken note of their height until now as they stared you down. "Like I'm going to believe that for a second!"

You backed up from their imposing figure with a scowl. "You should if you expect me to believe you didn't consume a cursed object!" You pointed to yourself, finger hard to your chest. Seiko remained silent as their anger stewed. They took note of the faint feeling within them, they were on borrowed time. "Am I even talking to Seiko right now?!" You genuinely asked.

"Of course you are," Seiko growled before walking past you to the bedroom. They then slammed the door shut and locked it behind them.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself. This trip was not shaping up to how you wanted it to. Any and everything was going wrong. The tension in the room was palpable as you stood alone in the living area, your heart heavy with the weight of uncertainty and the secrets that now divided you and Seiko. You knew they were lying about the epilepsy, and you had your suspicions about their recent strange behavior and the possession they were hiding. You couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the complexity of the situation. You weren't sure if Seiko was doing this to protect you or if something far more sinister was at play. In any case, you knew you needed to find the truth, and you needed to do it quickly.

As minutes turned into hours, you realized that Seiko wasn't coming out of the bedroom. You considered knocking, trying to engage in conversation, but your earlier confrontation was still fresh in your mind. You had to be patient, give them space to process everything, just as you needed time to figure out the whole story. 

You glanced at your phone and contemplated reaching out to Ieiri, but it was getting late...or early in this case, and she had already been through so much that night. You didn't want to burden her further. You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of the chaos around you. The room grew dark as the night pressed on, and you were left alone with your thoughts, unable to escape the web of secrets that had entangled your life since you'd reunited with Gojo. Sleep remained elusive, as did the answers you desperately sought.

When morning finally broke, you awoke after a too short slumber to sunlight coming into the floor-to-ceiling windows of your hotel room. Your head pounded from another night of heavy drinking and stress. You noticed the bedroom door was ajar and sat up further on the sofa you'd slept on. You turned your head to find Seiko calmly making some coffee in the kitchenette.

"Good morning," they greeted with a flat-lipped smile, sweetness radiating from them as if chaos hadn't reigned the night prior.

"Good morning?" You asked with a bit of grouchiness in your voice. You didn't appreciate the nonchalantness considering what had happened the night prior. "Are you okay now? Like what the hell is this change?"

Seiko gave a small reaction to your anger, briefly lifting their brow and giving a sigh. "I'd like to just move on, forget it ever happened."

"Forget?!" You scoffed and stood up, your hair a mess. You were still in your outfit from the club, makeup a bit smeared. "How can I forget when you suddenly had a crazy ass medical event and then treated me like shit afterward?!"

"It was a one-off thing. I'm okay. I just don't like being accused of something I didn't do," they looked up at you and gave you a knowing expression.

You remained silent for a few prolonged seconds as they took the first sip from their coffee. "I think it's time we head home," you sighed, allowing yourself to calm down. Something was still fishy, but you knew it would come to a head when it needed to. You loved Seiko, he wouldn't do something to hurt you intentionally. This hiccup was just part of life, you tried to convince yourself.

Seiko chewed on the inside of their cheek, disappointed in leaving with having done little to no sightseeing but they knew they'd be back another time. "Yeah," they agreed quietly. "I could go for a bit of normal right now."

That afternoon, you were able to reschedule your train ride and shorten your registered stay with the hotel. You couldn't get a refund for the entirety of your stay, but you were too drained to argue with the concierge. 

As you and Seiko packed your belongings to return to Hokkaido, you hoped that leaving Tokyo would offer a fresh start, a chance to unravel the complicated web of secrets and lies that had marred your trip. Your recent encounters with Gojo had added further tension to an already tumultuous situation, and you longed for a clean break.

You and Seiko were completing one last look over of the room to make sure you weren't leaving anything behind, suitcases positioned by the door as you scanned the living area. Just when you thought you were finally going to leave the city and all its complications behind, you heard a voice from behind you. Turning around, you found Gojo standing at your hotel room's entrance, a self-assured grin on his face that never seemed to waver. He'd ported into the room unannounced. It was something you recalled him doing frequently throughout your marriage, showing up anywhere he pleased without a care.

"Leaving already, Y/N? I thought we could catch up some more," Gojo teased, his presence filling the room his undeniably irritating charm. 

Seiko, who had been helping you pack, tensed noticeably, their expression a mix of suspicion and irritation. Gojo's tone didn't help. It clearly hinted at possibilities Seiko had been dwelling on since that night. 

They stepped forward, positioning themselves protectively in front of you, a clear sign of their discomfort around Gojo. "We've had enough of the games," they retorted with an edge in their voice. You were a bit speechless at Seiko's sudden charge of action. Usually they'd be a bit more subdued, letting you take the reins, especially if it were your business.

Gojo's grin widened as if he enjoyed the confrontation. "Games? Oh, I'm just here to say my goodbyes properly," he said, his tone laced with a hint of mischief.

Why did he think now was a good time for this?! You could see the mischievous spark in his eye, and your heart sank, knowing that this encounter was far from over.

Seiko continued to stand firm, guarding you, but you knew this was a battle you couldn't afford. "We're leaving, Gojo. We have nothing more to say to you," you stated firmly, picking up your suitcase handle and titling it on its wheels.

Gojo's carefree facade faltered briefly, and for a moment, you saw a glimpse of sincerity in his eyes. "Y/N, I..." he started but then hesitated when he looked back toward Seiko's fiery gaze. You were torn between anger and curiosity, but you couldn't bring yourself to wait for him to finish. Not this time.

As you walked toward the door, Gojo's expression shifted to one of vulnerability, but he didn't try to stop you. Instead, he stepped aside to let you open the door and head into the hallway. Seiko cast one last distrustful look at Gojo before following you out of the room.

Outside the hotel, you and Seiko made your way to the waiting taxi, the tension between you heavy as the car pulled away from the hotel. You couldn't help but wonder what Gojo had been about to say, but you also knew that staying would only lead to more complications. It was time to put Tokyo behind you and face the unknown in Hokkaido, hoping for a fresh start and some much-needed answers.

[tartigglez]

Hihi! Congratulations on the 100 followers! :D

Could I request 💙 with Ike Eveland?

Thank you!

"ten-twenty"

・❥・helloooooooooo nonnie i apologise for making this angsty but i will make a lighter ver if you aren't happy with it! see also: i would like to once again apologise for my tardiness :)

・❥・ike eveland x gn!reader

・❥・0.6k

・❥・heavy depression tw, dissociation, reader cries,, like a lot. physical touch, ike may be slightly ooc bc i haven't been keeping up w/ him lately. this was really, REALLY self indulgent and i apologise but it just happened.

ps. I cried twice whilst writing this lollll

ike x 💙

the emotions we’re overwhelming, almost unbearable. soft plush of the couch cushions beneath the weight of your body provided a seat as you hugged yourself, tears streaming down your face. nothing felt real in that moment. was it normal for people to feel this way, simply because of circumstance? was this an amplification of an insecurity of yours, or something more? 

you leaned against the back of the sofa, the cushion against your right ear providing white noise as you curled up against it, seeking comfort from it, somehow. 

your mind was suddenly impeded by a soft knock on your front door. you slowly uncurled yourself from your current position, trying to wipe the tears from your eyes in case you may have to answer. you felt pathetic, but knew you’d feel even worse if you had to open the door to someone you didn't want to see. you moved the cap on your door viewer to peer out at whoever was intruding upon your emotional outlet. 

the fisheye you stared through revealed none other than your boyfriend, who you had completely forgotten had arranged to come over today. you blinked your eyes rather desperately, trying to make it look like you hadn’t just been sobbing your eyes out. you pushed down the handle of the door after unlocking it, slowly pulling it towards yourself. 

you kept your head slightly lowered, hoping this would make it look like you were doing fine. he stepped into the room, heels clicking a little on the floor, bright smile not wavering when he entered your home. “hey sweetheart~” he cooed, smile slightly lowering when he realised you weren’t looking at him. “hi ike,” you spoke, voice cracking as you did. 

“is everything okay?” he asked, placing a hand on your shoulder in a failed attempt to get you to look up at him. you quickly nodded before trying to walk away to the living room again. 

“hey,” he spoke, voice lower and softer than before, “look at me. are you okay?” 

you nodded once again, trying your hardest to make eye contact with him. he could tell you had been crying, so clearly your methods of trying to make yourself look happy didnt work. as your eyes met his, you spoke again, “i’m fin-”. this time, another voice crack was the result of tears welling in your eyes, and face contorting into a frown. sudden uncontrollable bawling took over as he pulled you towards him instinctually, drowned sobs making their way into his shoulder. 

he knew you struggled like this sometimes, he knew sometimes it would hurt more than others, and he learned. he was willing to learn for you, he wanted to know how to help, how to make things feel a little lighter, whilst respecting that this was your battle to fight. 

“shh, it’s alright, i’m here now,” he whispered, quiet voice reverberating against you. “you should’ve called me over” he spoke, calmly leading you towards your couch where you would be able to take a seat with him. “i didn’t want you to worry,” you mumbled into his t-shirt.

it still didn’t feel real to you, you didn’t feel normal, not like this. if there’s one thing ike values, it’s honesty. maybe voicing your concerns would help you feel better.

“nothing feels real anymore,” you whispered, “it doesn’t even feel like you’re real. you’re tangible, but it’s just- do i sound stupid?”

“no, no you don’t sound stupid. but please remember that i’m right here, i’ve always been right here, and i’ll always be right here.” he said softly, “please don’t forget that”

“i won’t” you sniffled, knowing you were safe with him. 

“so,” he opened “what can i do to help?” 

sfw masterlist

© tartigglez, 2023. do not copy, translate or repost

[theaudacitytowrite]

Liquid Courage

Josh x Female Reader

A/N: I tried to distract myself and this happened... sorry for any mistakes. I didn't proofread it. I hope it's still enjoyable for you.

Summary: Josh had one too many shots and as you try to help him sober up outside, new sides of him appear.

word count: 1.879

The voices around you were roaring as they tried to be heard over the blaring music. You sipped on your drink absently, not even bothering to try to decipher what your friends were going on about. Danny and Sam were deep in a discussion with some other dudes that had joined your group during the evening. Meanwhile, Jake was already dissociating most of the evening as he leaned against the wall, playing with his necklace, and occasionally sipping on his beer. Josh was God knows where, probably mingling with different groups of strangers, downing one shot after another. You yourself just had come back from the dance floor, needing a break from the hustle of the crowd around you.

You were just about to ask Jake if he had seen Josh the last couple of hours or if you should send a search party soon when you felt a presence appear behind you getting closer until a chest pressed against your back.

“Hello, pretty lady.” Josh suddenly rasped into your ear, making goosebumps raise on your neck.

“Hey handsome.” you smiled over your shoulder, met by the image of a clearly intoxicated Josh.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” Josh slurred, snaking his arms around your waist. As his arms brushed over your sides you felt the familiar tingle in your stomach whenever Josh was close to you. You hadn’t even processed what was happening when he suddenly nuzzled his nose against your neck, his hot breath hitting your skin.

“How about we take you outside for a bit,” you shouted over the music, stepping away from his touch.

“Why?” he asked concerned, “Aren’t you feeling well?”

“No, I’m good.” you consoled him, “But I think you could use some fresh air. You’re clearly intoxicated.”

“You have me intoxicated.” he retorted sly, pulling you in by your waist. Your heart raced as he smiled down at you, heat rising to your head.

“Stop it.” you hit his chest playfully.

“Ok, but only because you look so adorable when you protest.” he winked with a mischievous grin, “Then let’s take it to the alley!” he suddenly proclaimed, pointing his fingers towards the exit. With a radiating smile on his lips, he offered you his hand which you took with slight hesitation, leading him towards the exit. Josh followed along giddily, squeezing your hand every now and then, enjoying the warm touch of her hand.

Once outside, his hand pulled you back, spinning you around and pulling you close again. His hand ran up and down your back over your clothing. His hand lingered there for a moment, rubbing the soft material, when all of a sudden, he leaned down and kissed your neck. Frozen in place it took you a second to react.

“W-what are you doing?” you managed to stutter, your cheeks crimson red by now, overwhelmed by his closeness. You were used to his flirty nature and his casual touches, but neck kisses were definitely out of the ordinary, taking you by surprise.

“You wanted some privacy, right?” he smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “That’s why we’re here.

“I think you had a few drinks too much…” you tried to sound playful, “I'm used to your hugs and perhaps a peck on the cheek... but the kisses are new to me... or did I miss something?” you laughed nervously.

Josh chuckled, shaking his head yes. “I’m drunk as a skunk!” he giggled, pressing another light kiss against your cheek, before putting his lips back to your ear. “I just have a weakness for you.” he sighed, his hand starting to slip under your shirt, “and you make it hard to resist.”

His touch tingled on your skin, your back welcoming his touch. You had dreamed of this day for so long but still, it didn't feel right. Your hand quickly caught his, making him halt before he could continue with something he might regret later.

“Josh wait.” you hummed, trying to pull yourself together, “You're drunk, you're out of your mind right now. I don't want you to do anything you wouldn’t want to do sober.” you gazed sterny into his eyes. He stopped immediately, looking into your eyes, smiling slightly.

“You know what, mama? You’re right.” he pulled his hand away and stepped back, “I am pretty tanked.” he chuckled, “You just look especially beautiful tonight. I guess I lost control. I’m sorry if I did something that made you feel uncomfortable.”

“I just don't want you to say or do something you’ll regret, you know?” you softly rubbed his arm, “Don't get me wrong... I'm not rejecting you. I- I” you stuttered and stopped yourself. You shook your head and took a deep breath.

“You know what, if you're as shit-faced as you look right now you won't remember it by tomorrow anyway.” you eyed him up and down, “Josh, I like you. More than a friend... and more than for just a fling.” you finally confessed. Josh simply chuckled, grinning madly at you.

“Well in that case!” he took a step forward, kissing you. Your eyes grew wide as his lips gently met yours, a firework of sensations rattling through your body. It took you a moment before your brain finally snapped back into reality, reciprocating his kiss.

 “Josh…” you huffed breathlessly when you parted.

“I’ll never regret this. Never could, never will, beautiful.” he hummed huskily, “I’ll be yours for as long as you like. And you shall see, I remember everything. I’ve got quite the capacity for information retention. Especially, where you are concerned.” he smiled, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Do you really feel like this?” you gulped, “Or is it just the alcohol talking?”

“The alcohol is merely loosening me up, darling.” he chuckled softly, “You are the only thing I can think of the only thing that matters to me most days. I’ve liked you that way longer than I can remember. I was just too much of a coward to admit it. But I’ve spent too much time running. What we have is much more than friendship and I know you feel it too. I am head over heels in love with you.”

“But I never thought you liked me that way?” you huffed, only processing his words slowly, completely missing that he had just confessed his love to you.

“Oh, if only you knew!” he snickered, “You cannot imagine how many nights I’ve spent alone, unable to sleep and thinking only of you. Just with the way you smile, the way you look at me... no other woman has ever held my attention in this way. No other being has made me feel this way.” he grabbed your hand and put it to his heart so you could feel his heartbeat, gazing deep into your eyes, “You are the one, mama. I know it. There is no one else for me! I want to be with you. To hold you. To kiss you. To love you, and to be loved by you. Do you want this with me, too?”

All you could muster up was a nod in response, the happiness washing over you, making it hard to breathe. You fell around his neck, hugging him tightly while you buried your nose against his neck, breathing his scent in. Josh hugged you back tightly, kissing the crown of your head. He held you close, your bodies pressed together. After a moment he pulled back slightly, his eyes brimming with tears.

“I hope you know that I mean that this is forever now. We’re a team, and not even death will pull us apart!” he rambled.

“Well, I sure hope so.” you nodded amused, timidly kissing his cheek to emphasise it. As you pulled away slightly, you caught his gaze. His lips were parted slightly, his tooth gap peeking out from under his soft lips. All you wanted to do was kiss him again but for some reason, your courage left you. He smiled as he looked lovingly at you, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“If only we could freeze time right now…” he hummed before kissing you deeply, the passion he felt for you almost too great to contain. You melted against his lips as they moved in sync with yours, his nose bumping against yours occasionally.

“I’d live these few moments on repeat for eternity,” he whispered against your lips; his eyes half-lidded.

“But if we froze time our forever would never start, now, would it?” you mumbled still in your kiss-caused daze.

“You make a good point. A very good point.” he chuckled, cradling your face in his palms, “I suppose that means our forever starts today, doesn’t it, love?” he smiled softly, leaning in to give you a quick kiss. “And I couldn’t imagine it being any better than this.”

You leaned your head against his chest, your arms wrapped around his torso tightly. “Me neither.” you sighed content, “I love you so, so much, Josh. I lack the words to describe it.” Josh’s face was starting to hurt from all the smiling by now. His hands were gently stroking your hair as he held you close.

“I’m yours, Y/N. I’m all yours.” he softly kissed your forehead, just for the sensation of your soft skin, “I can’t wait to be just like this, you and I, forever and ever.”

“Soo…” you hummed against his chest after a while as you swayed softly from side to side, enjoying your embrace, “What exactly were your plans earlier… you know, when you put your hand under my shirt.” You couldn't help the grin that formed on your lips when you felt Josh pause for a brief moment.

“I believe I had been flirting on autopilot, Y/N. You were just so… stunning. I couldn’t help myself.” he chuckled abashed as he looked down at you, “I guess I’m a slave to your beauty, you know what I mean?”

Your cheeks flushed once more, your boldness suddenly returning, “Then why don't you pick up where you left then?” you tried to sound sultry. Josh raised an eyebrow and smirked, slowly leaning down.

“What is it you want, Mama?” his voice was soft, almost a hush, “What do you want me to do?”

“I want to feel your lips on my skin,” you whispered barely over your breath. Josh stared at you for a moment, a deep intensity emerging between you two, before he finally moved his mouth to your neck.

“You want to feel my lips… on your skin…” he chuckled darkly, “Is there a particular area I should start with?”

You swallow hard as his breath hit your neck. “I think you're already in the perfect spot.” you managed to reply, your fingers holding on tightly to his forearms as the anticipation was starting to make your head spin. Josh smirked deviously, his lips coming into light contact with your soft skin, his touch sending you to heaven - a long, slow, tender kiss following shortly after.

“I feel like I’m dreaming right now.” he rasped against the shell of your ear, “And I want you to know, I never want to wake up. This is better than any dream I could ever dream.”

[imurmomdotcom]

Ghost w/ reader

Ghost and you had just gotten back from a mission with the squad and yall had gone out for a drink. It was around 10 at night but you allanaged to find a place that was open though it was very crowded and loud. "What do you all want to drink" Ghost asked everyone. They all put in their orders and when it came to your turn you suddenly became overwhelmed "I'll uh, I'll just have water" you said.

Noticing something was off, Ghost ordered your water and everyone else's drinks then asked to speak to you in private. You agreed hoping it would get you away from the noise and the crowd. The mission had been very rough and overwhelming and coming back to what you only assumed was a club was difficult for you. "What's wrong y/n?" Ghost asked concerned, now seeing yoy in proper light noticing you were pale. "It's nothing really, don't worry about me. I'm fine" you responded almost choking up.

At that moment Ghost knew obviously what was wrong and he pulled you close, rubbing your back in an attempt to comfort you "hey, it's ok y/n you can talk to me". "I'm just, I'm overwhelmed and I don't want to be here. I don't know what's wrong with me." He had you look at him as he wiped the tears from your face "nothing is wrong with you dear. You're just very stressed out at the moment." You nod your head yes slowly and bury your face into his neck. He rubs your back and whispers sweet little nothings to you in order to help calm you down.

"Love?" He asks needing to ask you a question. You let out a hum in response and don't move much more. "Do you uh, do you want to spend the night at my place? We can cuddle and watch a movie?" He asks you holding your face and having you look at him. You blush, "I would love that you say, hoping he doesn't realize your little crush on him has gotten bigger since you met." He looks at you smiling and blushing and suddenly, he kisses you with deep firey passion, as if he had been wanting- no- needing to feel your lips against his for forever. You kiss him back and blush, slipping your tongue in his mouth and he giggles in surprise, careful not to break the kiss. You two stay like that for a bit, in the dimly lit alley kissing and holding each other. "So uh, back to my place right?" He asks you, holding your hands. "Yes love, back to yours." You aren't sure what you guys are but all you know is you want him now more than anything.

I'll write more if you guys want just let me know in the comments! This is your reminder to drink water, eat some food, take any medicine you may have and get some sleep! Rest well dears!

[setoangel01-fanfiction]

Chasing Shadows

Rising from the Ashes - Chapter 4 (PREVIOUS CHAPTERS)

Rated: T

Fandom: FFXVI, Final Fantasy XVI, Final Fantasy 16, FF16

Pairing: Clive Rosfield x Jill Warrick

Chapter Summary: The letter from Jote detailing the very real chance that Joshua may be alive spurs Clive into immediate action. Clinging to hope, and with Jill and Torgal both faithfully at his side, the three begin their search for his beloved brother.

<<<<>>>>>>

Clive woke up to Jill slapping his face.

When his dark eyelashes fluttered open and his blurry vision finally cleared, he was met with icy blue eyes widened with tears and transparent concern evident on Jill's exquisite face.

"Clive!" she cried with a panting breath, "Oh, thank the Founder! You're awake!"

Clive grunted at the sudden sting in his cheeks as he fought against his tongue that seemed far too heavy in his mouth, "J-Jill? Wha? W-What 'appened?"

"Oh, I'll tell you what happened! I-I walked back in here and saw you sprawled on the damn floor! I kept calling your name but you wouldn't wake up a-and...oh…" she let out a breath of relief mixed with a sob as she pressed her face into his throat, lips caressing tenderly against his thrumming pulse. "My Love, are you alright?"

"I - I'm fine, Jill," Clive muttered, only useful hand clumsily brushing through her loose tresses and down her trembling back. "I'm sorry I frightened you. I'm alright, though. Really."

Jill steadied herself before pulling back. Sitting on her haunches, she looked at him doubtfully. "What the bloody hell was that then? You were completely unconscious! That doesn't just happen, Clive!" she admonished him; obvious worry lacing her voice while helping him to sit up. Pale hands cradling his own as he finally was sat leaning back against the sturdy wooden desk.

For a few moments, it felt as if his head was spinning, his brain lost in a gloomy fog.

Overwhelmed mind churning to process her question and the sharp pain in the back of his head when he no doubt slammed it on the hardwood floor from his dead faint wasn't helping his mind work any faster. Clive was almost about to brush off her concerns when he peered down and saw the unrolled parchment. The red wax Phoenix seal smeared against the wooden grain by his thigh like a smudge of fresh blood.

It was that very moment when it all came flooding back to him like a crashing wave and the words left his mouth in a quiet, stilted breath, "Joshua may be alive…"

A myriad of emotions flashed on her nearly at once. Disbelief, concern, confusion and finally, the faintest glimmer of hope hidden behind the same grief they both shared. Jill's face scrunched in dubiety. Shaking her head, she finally replied, "...I - I don't understand. W-What do you mean he could be alive? You told me that he passed away in your arms…"

Clive's lower lip trembled at the sudden flash of the memory that would haunt him to his grave. "…He did…" Clive whispered, "But I-I got a letter from Jote. Apparently the Undying located Dion's body." Clive clarified somberly.

One of Jill's hands left his own to press over her mouth, eyes filled with grief for a man she scarcely got to personally know, but grieved for his tragic loss all the same. A man they owed so much to, more than they could ever hope to repay. Clive wished he had the chance to thank him once more… he would make sure he did when he got the chance to visit his final resting place.

"I'm glad he'll be able to get the proper burial he deserves," she murmured, Jill's brows suddenly furrowed as she wiped at her teary eyes. "But Clive, what does that have to do with Joshua?"

Taking a deep breath, Clive answered, "...Jill, they searched through all the ruins where I fought Ultima and yet even after searching under all the debris, they didn't find Joshua's body. And he was whole, he was lying in an open area…just as I left him. If he was there they would have found him…" Clive voice tapered out into a sob. A hope he dared not grasp too hard to. Terrified of being led astray or give himself a promise to cling to that would only lend itself to misery when it all would be for naught.

Jill's eyes widened at the news and Clive's shaking hand reached for the letter. Pressing the parchment into her grip, she glanced at it only a moment before looking back at him. Clive nodded his consent and immediately, Jill read the missive.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

On the fourth, he watched as crystalline tears that had been gathering on her lash line slipped down her cheeks. She'd moved the paper aside before the salty drops could disperse the ink.

Jill's voice was a mere thread, "Clive, what? How? D-Do you truly believe he could be…?" her voice tapered off in a whimper.

"I don't know." Clive answered truthfully as his vision slipped to his lap, the tremors of his hand visible but it wouldn't stop shaking.

Painfully recalling those moments before and after the battle with Ultima. Joshua breathing his last in his arms after saying how proud he was to be his brother. Screaming to the heavens while holding Joshua's bloody unmoving corpse and sobbing like a babe into his little brother's throat. Desperately praying to any God that would listen to let him please trade places with him, to take his life if that meant that Joshua would wake up and live.

Yet no matter how hard he prayed, no answer ever came…

After the battle was over and Ultima's power lay festering in his chest, Clive merely sat there and held his brother's cooling body to his chest. With the power of the Phoenix in his veins, he had healed Joshua until no wounds nor blood remained…yet he knew no amount of healing could bring back the dead. In those abhorrently painful moments where he swore getting his heart ripped out with a rusted dagger would hurt less, Clive remembered.

Memories flashing through his mind of the day Joshua was born, recalled being so excited to finally be able to be a big brother. Peering over the lip of the bassinet and staring down at that small little bundle wrapped in white cloth for the first time. Cute chubby face, pale skin, sparse reddish blonde hair and blue eyes that looked up at him with a gummy smile. His new brother who grasped his finger so tightly in his tiny, tiny hand and in that very instant, Clive promised Joshua that no matter what, he would never let anything happen to him…

Clive would always be Joshua's Shield - would always be there to protect him… Clive had failed once at Phoenix Gate but he got a second chance and he was ready and willing to do whatever it took to finally keep that promise.

Yet in the end, when it mattered most, he failed miserably once again.

For it was Joshua who ended up saving him.

Clive flinched when he felt Jill's hand suddenly cradling his cheek, not even aware of the tears that dribbled in weak streams down his stricken face. Clive peered at her through the overwhelming grief and saw the same expression on hers. Her cool palms and fingertips shook minutely upon his jaw as he watched crystalline tears slip down her pale cheeks.

Joshua's survival after all they'd been through sounded far too good to possibly be true…

"I don't know what to do, Jill. I'm so afraid," he admitted with a choked sob. Jill merely scooted closer and cradled his face between her palms, thumbs brushing away the constant tears as she ignored her own. "I want to believe it's true…but if it's not. If…If I'm merely chasing a ghost, it will fucking destroy whatever is left of me!"

Jill wordlessly pulled Clive's head to rest upon her shoulder. He went willingly, lying limp upon her breast with his ear to her steady heartbeat until he was nearly sprawled upon her lap. Hand grasping at her as if she was the only tether keeping him in grounded to Valisthea.

Perhaps she was…

"I know, love. I'm scared too…" Jill admitted, her hands so soothing as they carded through his wispy black hair. Clive wincing when she accidentally brushed where he'd hit his head but he didn't want to deter her, so he said nothing. At least the physical pain was grounding.

Clive stared out at nothing, his eyes flitting across their room until they landed upon the lone Phoenix feather resting in the center of his mantle. "W-What do I do, Jill?" he asked in a shaking breath.

Jill said nothing for a long time.

Steady heartbeat thrumming against his sodden cheek was the only constant thing in his entire world at this moment. So many fleeting thoughts and doubts plaguing his mind and exhausted body. The weight of Jote's letter felt heavier than a Behemoth resting upon his thigh.

Jill sighed. Leaning down, she pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead, her arms wrapping around him in a loose embrace before she began to speak, "Alright...Let's say, that perhaps it is a mere rumor or it is merely a case of mistaken identity. Yet as much as it would hurt to find out the truth, wouldn't it be better in the long run to know that you did everything in your power to find him? Even if in the end, it is all for naught?" Jill asked. Soft voice was trembling yet she remained his rock, his foundation, the one he could lean on when all he wanted to do was fall apart.

Clive's vision fell once again to the words Jote wrote over and over with so many more questions than answers.

In those quiet moments of contemplation, a flash of a memory flitted through his mind. "My Flames May Flicker, but they shall never die…" Clive muttered from a moment that may have been forever ago. A battle he refused to believe he took part in for thirteen years. The words of the Phoenix spoken to Ifrit through the child voice of his brother. The same night their entire lives and the lives of so many were lost or completely fell apart at the seams.

Most of that night was a complete blur, yet Clive remembered those words so clearly…

Jill said nothing in response to his musing, merely held him tighter, her cheek resting atop his hair as Clive got lost into the recesses of his mind.

"My Brother, The Phoenix, the very Ruler over Life and Death…"

Joshua was Chosen as its Host.

Clive merely was Granted its Blessing.

All of the power of the Phoenix was truly contained inside Joshua. The power emanating, the fact he was able to contain even a fraction of Ultima inside of himself for over five years was nearly unfathomable - yet he did it - even if it cost him greatly. There was truly no limit to that power in the end, merely his failing body was the only thing truly holding him back. Yet Joshua prevailed, fighting regardless of his weakened state, giving his all until he breathed his last. Only in those moments as he lay dying, did he forgo the power of the Phoenix's Chosen to Clive in order to destroy the last grasp Ultima would ever have over the realm.

After Ultima's defeat, and before the last MotherCrystal would be shattered, Clive returned to Joshua's side and pushed back whatever lingering traces of the Phoenix he could back into him. The flickering flames at his palm pushing into Joshua's skin and the blood vanished, skin stitched as if there was never a wound in the first place. Even if Joshua's soul no longer inhabited that body, Clive healed him anyway. To return that gift Joshua had blessed him with so many times even if it was for naught…

…But what if it wasn't?

Clive had left immediately after he healed him. Taking Joshua's wounds upon himself and all the powers of the remaining Dominants and Ultima himself, Clive destroyed the last Mothercrystal. Completely shattering it to break Ultima's chains upon the realm of Valisthea once and for all. A flash of light later, he'd woken upon a beach with no explanation of how he'd gotten there. The ruins which he fought Ultima still in the sky that would later fall and Joshua wouldn't be found there, either dead nor alive.

Heart hammering, Clive recalled that moment he left Joshua. There was no more blood on his chest nor mouth, no wounds littered his pale skin, not even a trace of a fight other than the torn scarf he always wore. The Phoenix wouldn't simply abandon him for even if Joshua gave him his power, Joshua was still the Chosen Vessel…

So what if it really was possible that Joshua was alive?

Could it perchance be true?

Clive's expression tightened with hardened resolve, "...I'm going to look for him," Clive decided forthwith, his shoulders squared as he gingerly pulled himself minutely from Jill's embrace.

Immediately, Clive braced himself for a fight, an argument. Words and excuses that his body was simply still too weak to leave the Hideaway and he needed to stay until he fully mended. But if there was even a fraction of a single percent that Joshua was alive out there somewhere, Clive was going to take it. Without waiting for Jill to respond to his sudden statement, he continued with pure conviction in his tone, "I'm going to pack and I'm leaving at sunrise."

Jill looked shocked for only a moment before she rested her hands upon his biceps and replied with a calm smile, "Good. Then I'm going with you."

Clive's mouth fell agape. "…What?"

"You really think you're going to leave me behind? Don't you dare even think it, Clive Rosfield!"

Clive's face flushed at his full name before a smile reached his trembling lips, "I wouldn't dream of leaving you behind…" Clive said, reaching to grasp her quivering hand. "I'm just surprised you'd let me…"

"Normally, I probably would be against it, but these are extenuating circumstances, right?" Jill smiled, both hands grasping onto his, "Besides, Joshua would do the same for either of us. He would never stop looking as long as there was even a flicker of hope. So neither will we." Jill's eyes were glaciers of ice, so resilient and beautiful, able to withstand even the strongest storms much like the woman herself. The smile that broke upon her face was pure sunlight that was hidden behind the clouds for far too long.

Never did he think a smile could bring him so much joy…

"Jill…" Clive whispered, pressing his forehead to hers when suddenly Torgal appeared from where the door must have been left ajar.

Clive chuckled as the hound bounded to his side and began nuzzling his cold wet nose into his neck and whined much like he did as a puppy. He ruffled the dog's fur and soothed the wolf, "Torgal! Don't worry, I'm not leaving without you either, boy."

Torgal's big beseeching eyes peered into his own before the hound barked and wagged his tail, seemingly contentment with his answer.

The door left ajar was suddenly squeaking as it was opened further and Gav's voice came from right outside. "Eh… Uh… Jus' making sure you all 're decent in there, aye? Torgal was scratching at the door somethin' fierce but just wanted ta make sure I wasn't gonna get no free peep show or nothin' when I come in."

"Get the fuck in here, Gav," Clive called out to him fondly.

"Alright, alright, hold on," the man appeared in the doorway, his eyebrow raising when he saw their intertwined position on the floor. He smirked as he walked towards them, "Aw, come on, ya got a bed right there. You may as well use it."

"Gav," Jill stated firmly and he put his hands up in surrender but sent them both a teasing smile all the same. Feeling a bit awkward, Jill stood up first, reaching down to help Clive to his wobbly legs. Once both were steady upon their feet, they both dusted off and turned their attention to Gav.

Clive closed the small distance between him and the other man, placing a hand on his shoulder before stating, "I'm going to need you and Otto to take care of things while we're gone. Do you think you'll be alright without us here for awhile?"

A shocked expression flooded Gav's face at the abrupt news for only a second before it turned into a cocksure smile and shrugging shoulders, "Really? Sure. I reckon we can 'andle that. Where are you two goin' then, hmm? Let me guess. Recruiting more allies? Mid's fetch hands? More herbs for Tarja's potions? Or, are ya finally off to get hitched? If so, it's about bloody fuckin' time!" Gav said with a huge smile and a gentle elbow to Clive's ribs.

Clive and Jill shared a look before he turned back to Gav and stated, "Actually, we're leaving to go search for Joshua."

Gav's smile fell and he just stared at Clive like he'd gone proper berserk. "…What? E-Excuse me?"

Without a word, Clive placed the letter from Jote in Gav's hands. While the man looked more confounded than ever, he read it anyway. The disbelief on his face slowly giving away to shock as the words were absorbed.

Gav lifted his head and looked at Clive with a determined glint in his eye.

"Leave the Hideaway ta me," Gav said as he gripped his shoulder. "I'll also be puttin' my nose to work for you, there 'as to be a lead that even the Undying can't find without me."

Clive smiled sincerely with tears gathering in his eyes, "Thank you, Gav the Lionheart. You have no idea how much I appreciate it."

Gav pulled back with a teary smile of his own, his arms crossed as he glanced at Jill than Clive with a proud grin, "I could get used ta the sound of that. Now, get bloody packin' before ya lot make me emotional! Don't ya be keepin' Joshua waitin' now, ya hear?"

Clive and Jill both pulled Gav into a hug before doing just that.

<<<<>>>>>>

Months had passed since Clive and Jill had left the Hideaway in search for Joshua.

So many rumors leading them absolutely nowhere yet they continued chasing down every single bit of gossip even if it turned out to be another dead end. So many hints had them chasing even the barest leads that turned into nothing but a wild goose chase or someone that looked vaguely similar to Joshua.

Yet there was one substantial rumor that kept slipping into conversations they couldn't disprove.

After spending a week in Tabor with the Undying and Jote, she spun them the tale heard through the grapevines. A breakthrough of the rare whispered tale of a lone man with Joshua's features and stature hidden beneath a worn hooded brown robe.

The man in question was stealthy and quiet, entering different towns only under the cover of darkness illuminated by a sliver of the moon. He'd speak to no one, only handing over the gil to buy various supplies which included only a couple items such as drinking water, soap pellets, bathing oils, a thick blanket, clothing and food (but never any sort of vegetables) before disappearing into the crowd much like the ghost Clive had chased for thirteen years.

Jill and Clive would pursue this rumor relentlessly for the following weeks. Chasing down shadows and every hint of the man in question regardless of how far into the wilderness it took them. They'd come so close to finding the end of the trail, before suddenly, they'd get a missive from Jote that the man was seen again. Yet this time, he was on the entire other side of Valisthea.

It was maddening.

Some days Clive couldn't be more hopeful in his search.

Others, he struggled to just not completely give up.

Yet through it all, every trial and tribulation, Jill and Torgal remained faithfully by his side. His constant companions and support, both pushing him to continue even if all seemed lost. Braving all the terrain from tall mountains to endless beaches. Scouring every inch of the forest him and Cid had their first adventure together back to the rock-strewn beaches of the deserted Ironholm. They were looking everywhere, peering under rocks it seemed with nary a trace.

Torgal and Gav's noses being put to use to try and sniff out the next lead even if it lead to another dead end.

Yet they didn't give up.

The sudden squawk of an owl drew his attention to Jill. She'd given a small handful of kupo nuts to the Stolas before she quickly read the missive the bird just brought. Looking at the sky, it was already nearing nighttime.

Dammit, how long had he been sitting here staring at nothing?

Jill peered up at him from the letter, icy blue eyes widened a bit as if not expecting him to be looking at her. She flashed him a fond smile regardless as she handed him over the letter.

Clive peered at it but his eyes didn't seem to want to cooperate so he merely pretended to read as Jill filled him in, "Gav says there's some talk he heard near Rosaria on his last expedition. He thinks it may be something to look into at the very least. If we're available, he wants to meet at Loftwing in three days time."

"Sure. It's only two days travel by Chocobo. Tell him we'll be there." Clive nodded his acceptance but even that small movement felt too tiring to his wrecked body. Even with his fully wounds healed and body much healthier, the sheer stress that ate away from him as every lead turned out to be for naught felt as if he'd just been trampled by a Behemoth.

Jill quickly penned a reply and the Stolas took off into the night sky with a rustling of flapping feathers.

Clive tensed only a second as he felt Jill sit behind him. His shoulders slumping when her hands began massaging his back, the knots in his shoulders loosening at her wonderful touch. He melted into her ministrations, the worries still plaguing his mind began to slip away with the brushing of her soothing hands and warm body pressed against his back. Clive shivered as her fingertips pushed away the wispy back hair on his nape aside before she pressed a lingering kiss to the skin at the base of his neck.

Jill wrapped her arms around his waist, her head nestled on his shoulder as she pressed her cheek against his own.

"I know this is frustrating." Jill whispered. "But I promise, we're going to keep looking. I know you'll never give up and neither will I."

Letting out a breathy sigh, Clive nuzzled his cheek against hers. Thumb brushing tenderly over her knuckles where her hands were overlapped across his stomach. "Thank you, Jill. I could never have done this without you…"

They lay down for the night. Clive's arms wrapped tight around Jill's waist as they lay on the soft grassy hill covered in flowers overlooking the ocean. Clive couldn't help but smile at the warmth of Torgal's fur pressing into his back where the hound lay snoring.

The moon and the darkened Metia still in the sky as his mind still refused to rest. All the dead ends, empty rumors, mistaken identity and wild goose chases that lead nowhere - Clive expected to happen.

…Yet there was one question that haunted Clive relentlessly above all others…

If Joshua was truly alive this entire time, why the bloody hell would he be hiding?

<<<<>>>>>>

1 Week Later

Walking through the deadlands was different without the shadow of Ultima and the crystals. The land that was blackened and dead, trees with ashen limbs now slowly gave way to brown soil and the barest hints of green and life beginning to sprout up from the once deadened ground. A sign of hope Clive felt precious little of at times was showcasing itself throughout the realm. These small sprouts would take a century to be the trees that once proudly forested this land. He would be long gone before he'd see them in their prime but he was hopeful that the coming generations would enjoy and take care of them all the same.

"We're almost there," Jill mused from beside him. She gently brushed her fingers over his back as they followed Torgal through the muddy waters and patches of dark soil. "You sure you're ready?"

Clive recalled his last visit with Gav over in the new Loftwing as they neared the spot the last sighting of the man was only yesterday. The small rickety cabin he'd fought the Goblins and the Morbol with Wade and Tyler a lifetime ago grew closer…

"Yes. As ready as I'll ever be…

<<<<>>>>>>

"You sure?"

Gav chugged the last few sips of his lager before answering, "Aye. I am. Sure as the sky is blue."

Clive looked up to the gray cloudy sky out the window before ordering Gav yet another pint of ale.

Jill and Torgal were resting in the room at the inn after mere two day trip to Loftwing became five when they got trapped in a sudden storm after chasing another lead on their way back.

Tracking anyone in that hellish winter landscape was idiotic at best and bloody suicidal at worst. The bitter cold and brutal wind had them chasing shadows that never amounted to anything more than nearly freezing to death in a snow drift before they finally called it quits and went south to their original destination. Clive felt foolish after the fact for there was no way in hell that Joshua would be staying in such a place. Much like carrots, Joshua hated the cold yet they needed to make sure to chase every lead possible.

Don't die wondering and all that.

So, two days past what Gav had requested, they'd arrived in the warmer climate of Loftwing. Gav was pissed and worried as all awt. Jill and Torgal nearly asleep standing up, but as bone-deep exhausted as he was, Clive couldn't sleep a wink even as Jill and Torgal had been already asleep for a good twelve hours at this point.

The information Gav had nearly died falling off a cliff (again) tracking down for them was the only lead they seemingly had left at this point.

Gav sighed and peered over at the sheer exhaustion on his friend's face, "Clive…I'm tellin' ya, if this turns out isn't him, eh, maybe it's time for you, Jill and Torgal to 'ead on home until the next substantial lead comes up, aye?" Gav said gently, reaching over to squeeze his hunched, tense shoulder. "You 'ave already been gone for nearly two seasons."

Clive wanted to lash back, refuse to give up on the search, but it'd been months with merely following whispers and farfetched drunken rumors. As hard as Jote and the Undying tried to track down anything concrete, the evidence indicating Joshua's survival (other than lack of a body) was next to nil.

"...Perhaps…" Clive sighed.

Gav peered at him, eyes showing a bit of intoxication and Clive mourned for his newly clean boots already. "So, ya ready to listen to what I 'eard?"

"Alright," Clive took a calming breath. "What is it?"

The bartender placed another lager in front of Gav and Clive tossed him the necessary gil. Gav saluting the bartender and Clive in thanks before taking a healthy gulp of the frothy amber liquid. "Ah! That's the good stuff."

"Gav…" Clive grumbled.

"Alright, alright, I'll tell ya, keep your knickers on." the man took a deep breath before weaving his tale, "It happened at Port Isolde…"

Clive's brows furrowed. Home. Rosaria. A crumbling heap that never fully recovered from the blight nor the needless war his mother started. The pain of rebuilding such a place not one Clive had any interest in pursuing or an empty throne that he would never sit upon nor wanted to. The wound still fresh and deep even after nearly 20 summers since the tragedy occurred at Phoenix Gate.

"Port Isolde? What could be there other than painful memories?" Clive muttered, flashing Gav a confused stare.

Gav squeezed his shoulder before admitting with a sign, "Clive, there was fresh flowers on your father's grave…"

A chill went up Clive's spine, his blue eyes peering at Gav in confusion. Only very choice few knew of the spot of his father's grave marker - Joshua being one of those remaining few. The others were far from the location and with no anniversary, nor his father's nameday passing recently, Clive didn't see a reason flowers would be placed there…

And if the flowers were indeed fresh as Gav stated…

"But Clive, there's more."

Clive's heart hammered painfully against his sternum, "What?"

Gav bit his lip, his remaining green eye finding it hard to meet his own before he blurted out, "There's a new marker right next to your dad's resting place."

Clive's brows furrowed in confusion. "A marker? For whom?" Clive asked aloud, wondering if Jote had merely forgot to inform him that she placed one there for Joshua back before the search began…

"Clive, it's ingrained with your name…and the date you fought Ultima…"

It was only Gav's hand on his elbow that kept Clive from falling out of his stool. "What!?" the word left him in a growl, wondering if it was some sick joke but the seriousness in Gav's expression calmed those fears instantly.

"There were fresh flowers on there too."

"...but I'm not dead! …How? What?" Clive was floundering, his heart hammering so hard he placed his hand on his chest to try and quell its frantic pace.

That was the one question that had been eating Clive from the inside out since the search began. If Joshua were indeed alive - then why stay hidden? Joshua knew the location of the Hideaway and even without a boat, he knew about Martha's Rest and the Veil where he would easily find help or shelter with no questions asked. Hell, even L'ubor or Maria would happily help him as well! There seemed absolutely no reason why Joshua would be hidden at all…

Unless...

It was like a puzzle piece fell into place in his mind.

…The reason Joshua was stayed hidden was because he believed Clive to be dead…

<<<<>>>>>>

The cabin grew ever closer and Clive's heart hammered upon seeing the small wisp of smoke indicating a fire was currently burning, the smoke wafting from it's crumbling fireplace. Walking through the deadlands was different without the shadow of Ultima and the crystals hovering like a plague over their shoulders.

Jill's hand slipped into his own and he intertwined their fingers. Torgal bumped his head against his leather-clad cursed hand and Clive did his best to brush his stiffened fingers through his fur.

"Remember, Clive. We're here for you. Regardless of what happens, that's never going to change…" Jill whispered before she leaned up and kissed his lips.

"Thank you, Jill," Clive muttered when she pulled back. Clive peered down at Torgal and those wise golden eyes. "You too, boy. I couldn't have done any of this without either of you…"

Without any more hesitation nor another word, Clive let go of Jill's hand and walked toward the small cabin on his own. Steps silent as he approached the crumbling structure and the obvious signs of life emanating from the smoke of the fire, the smell of food coming from inside and the fresh pile of firewood stacked neatly by the door.

A sigh left his lips before Clive lifted his hand and knocked.

[toast-is-ticklish]

You Are Enough. Pt1

Get ready for some massive self projection bitches lmao.

No actual tickles in this part, it's all set up. But part 2 will be up like immediately when I post.

lee! MK ler! Monkey King

Hopefully you guys like it 💖💖

___________________________________________

As MK sat in his room only one thought was going through his head.

Everything sucks.

His friends thought he was leaving them behind, no matter how much he trained and learned he still felt weak, he was no match for that freaky bone lady, he had no teacher to help him, and, and, and-

Monkey king was gone. On vacation. Why did that hurt so much?

He guesses he was scared. That he wasnt enough. That his mentor might think picking him was a mistake.

What made him fit to be a hero? Well that should be easy to answer. Awesome hair, heroic determination, and a proclivity towards making cool poses when he jumps off of things.

Arrogance. Stupidity. Naivety. Annoying. Loud. Nuis-

Okay that's enough self reflection for now.

Not a very good wrap for a hero, huh?

And now his mind is swimming with doubts. What if monkey king secretly hates him? Thinks he's just an annoying kid? Is disappointed in him? Is he not worthy enough? Has he not worked hard enough?

MK feels his vision get blurry and realizes he is crying.

Huh.

He feels insecure for it, but he just wishes Monkey King was here. To make him feel better somehow.

He groans and flips over on his bed, sulking. Unfortunately nobody was here, especially not monkie king, so he just had to pull up his big boy britches and get it together. No one is just gonna appear out of nowhere and magically fix all his-

"Kid?"

What.

"AAAGH! Why are you here!?" MK startled, falling off his bed in a panic and somehow landing face first on the floor. Why does he always land like that?

"Why are you astral projecting in the middle of the night? Waitwaitwait, were you gonna try and prank me or something because I..." Monkey King trails off.

His voice softens, "Oh kiddo. Were you crying?"

MK scrambles to wipe his eyes, trying his best to look very casual and also cool. "Uhhh no! Of course not! I mean I'm like, waaaaay to awesome to ever have a reason to cry anyway so why would that even happen? Nope. Neeeeeever. No way, Jose."  And suddenly hes rambling and his voice is weird and thick and all he can think is-

"Listen, MK, just stop for a minute-"

'Why is this happening to me?' He hears a voice, pushing out the words like its painful.

The voice is so...desperate.

The tone is despondent in a way that makes you think, 'Jeez. What happened to that guy?'

Its MKs voice.

He looks to Monkey King panickedly.

"MK I need you to listen to me. I think I know what's going on here. It seems like you subconsciously reached out to me using the astral projection and telepathy we've been using to communicate. And you're not fully in control of it."

"B-but! Why? And how can I fix it?"

"Well kiddo, the only reason I can think that this is happening is that you... arent okay."

MK looks away.

"MK. Please talk to me."

Monkey King reaches out a hand to the boy and looks so...genuine that MK thinks literally nobody could say no.

And so now here he is, sitting shoulder to shoulder with his mentor and idol on his bed met with a concerned look and an expectation to talk about his feelings. That's like top ten things MK hates doing.

"Uhhhm. I guess I've been feeling, like, kinda, insecure?"

It's funny how all the thoughts swarming his head shrink down to one little word. Insecure.

MK decides he doesnt like that word very much.

Monkey king sets a reassuring hand on MKs shoulder. "About what?"

"W-well-"

And suddenly MK is getting interrupted by his own voice, overlapping on a symphony of his own self doubt.

'Lazy' 'Arrogant' "Annoying' 'Naive' 'Stupid'

'Unworthy' 'Disappointment' 'Chose wrong'

'Not good enough not good enough not good enough-

It's so overwhelming. MK buries his head in his hands in a desperate attempt to just block out everything.

The thoughts are so loud he feels as though hes being crushed by his own mind.

And then it all goes quiet. And hes wrapped up in a certain monkey mentors arms. And it's just so warm and peaceful and safe that MK feels like he's melting and exploding at the same time as hot tears bunch around his eyes and streak down his face.

MK doesnt know how long that embrace lasts.

He's wrapped up in this blanket of murmured comforting words and the soothing motions of monkie kings hand on his back.

They stay there for a long while.

But you cant stay under a blanket forever, and MK feels bad for crying all over monkie kings shirt. Plus he needs to blow his nose like, so bad. Christ.

Monkie king doesnt pull away until MK does.

He decides to break the silence as MK grabs a tissue box from his desk.

"Listen kid, from what I can tell this is a pretty deep rooted thing, yeah? And I know words won't be able to fix anything. But I think that they can at least help."

The mentor continued, shifting around on the bed as MK sat back down.

"So let me start by saying that none of those thoughts we heard just then are true. Choosing you was one of the best choices I have made in my entire life. Or lives? Ever. Okay? And I have been around for a while."

MK looked at him suprised, reaching an arm up to the back of his neck.

"Actually?"

"Actually. And all that mean stuff your brain was prattling off earlier was so wrong. It should be illegal to be that off the mark. I'm considering arresting your brain."

MK let out a little wet chuckle at that.

"You are the smartest, kindest, most amazing kid I know. And what even was that about being lazy? You overwork yourself kid. Not underwork. I dont think that's even a thing."

"Thanks, Monkey king." MK was smiling a little at the praise, it was nice, but he couldnt really believe it. Though it made him feel a lot better.

"I can tell you're not really buying it. That's okay for now, I'm sure I'll drill it into your head somehow."

There was a brief pause.

"Hey, kid?"

"Yeah?"

"I wanna tell you something really important."

He looked at MK seriously now, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"No matter what, you will always be enough. Even if you make the stupidest decision in the world, you are enough. You are not a disappointment to me. You never will be. Because you're MK and I-"

His voice softened as he looked MK in the eyes.

"I care about you. A lot."

A moment passes between them.

MK is tearing up again and doesnt know what to say. For once in his extremely talkative life.

"Welp! I think that's enough sappy stuff for me tonight, I am pooped!" Monkie dramatically yawns and stretches probably to make a point.

"Do you even need to sleep?" MK asks and ew his voice sounds all weird from crying.

"Nope! But it's fun! Anyway I promise I'll check in more often kid, I'm sorry, but I gotta go. Oh yeah! Before I go I wanna give you a new training tool."

He throws him a peach and MK scrambles to catch it as his mentor continues.

"Eat it. It'll help with the whole, drilling confidence into your head thing. I think you'll be juuuuuuust tickled by it!" Monkie king chuckles, "If you need it to stop say red. Anyway byeeeeeee!"

And now hes gone. Wow. That whole conversation is going to take a while to digest.

MK takes a second to cringe at the weird wordage.

"yOu'lL bE jUuUuUuUsT tIcKlEd bY iT bLeh blEh bLeh mLeH!" He says to himself in a stupid voice as he rolls the peach around in his hands.

The use of a safe word was concerning and made him worry it would hurt, but he trusted Monkey king. And so he took a big breath and chomped into the sweet fruit.

It tasted really fuckin good.

Huh. He kinda expected something to happen but he literally felt exactly the same as he did before.

[the-iceni-bitch]

53, 65, 100 w/ Nomad Steve?

53) “Is that a tattoo?”

65) “Pull my hair!”

100) “Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

Ahh, nomad!Steve with a tattoo kink and a bit of a possessive streak? With hair pulling?

Nonnie, it’s like you came up with this to torment me specifically.

Smutty smut, no minors!!

You groaned as you tried to take off your shirt, your ribs creaking and a jolt of pain shooting up your side where Sam has caught you.

This almost never happened. You were faster than Wilson, and prided yourself on your ability to dodge every strike he tried to land and turn him into a frustrated mess. You thought you could handle him and Nat at the same time but she was so fucking sneaky that her slap caught you off guard and gave Sam the chance to land a solid kick to your midsection that had sent you flying across the mat.

You could still hear him apologizing as you winced, chewing your lip as you tried to assess whether anything was broken.

“Hey Y/N... what the fuck happened to you?”

“Rogers, perfect! I can’t get out of my shirt.” You said, turning to the giant and flapping your useless arm at him as he looked at you with concern.

“Ok, what do you want me to do exactly?” He said, cocking an eyebrow at you as he watched you struggling.

“Just... just fucking rip it off.” You huffed. “I can’t move my arm.”

He grunted as he stepped forward and gripped your shirt in his hands and shredded it easily, smirking at you as you let out a relieved sigh.

“Oh god, that’s it.” You moaned, rolling your shoulder and pressing your palm to your side as you started moving to the freezer to grab an ice pack.

“Wilson finally manage to land a hit?” He asked as he gazed at you, shaking his head when you hissed at the sensation of the ice on your ribs.

“Yeah, but only because Romanoff fights dirty.” You scowled, sinking onto the bench and lying down as you did your best to take deep breaths.

“Yeah, I could’ve told you that.” He said as he sat next to you. “Is that a tattoo?”

“What?” You said before realizing he’d never seen you with this little clothing on before. “Uh, yeah it’s a tattoo.”

“It’s beautiful.” He muttered, his hand reaching out hesitantly as if he wanted to run his fingers over the skin below your breasts but stopped himself at the last second. “What is it?”

“It’s a rosemaling.” You muttered, watching him closely as his eyes raked over the intricate pattern. “Norwegian folk art.”

“Can I see the rest of it?” He asked, his eyes dark as he gazed at you, his fingers still itching to reach for your chest.

“Steve, I’d have to take my bra off.” You mumbled as you chewed on your lip.

You’d never seen him like this. Sure, you’d joked with each other and flirted with no real intention before but this heavy exchange was different. Your breath was coming in shallow little pants and you could feel arousal soaking your panties as he scooted closer to you on the bench.

“That’s fine.” He grumbled, his gaze still tracing the path of the ink where it disappeared below the fabric.

He reached out and tugged at the zipper at the front of your bra, his eyes moving to yours as he drew it down slowly, inspecting you closely for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. You just bit your bottom lip and dropped the ice pack to the floor, your injury completely forgotten as he freed your breasts.

“Jesus Christ.” He hissed, running his thumb over the swirls of ink that ran between and under your breasts, tracing the swell of your tits and making you throb with need as you arched into his hand and let out a moan. “How long did this take?”

“Five hours.” You murmured, trying to focus on his questions as the sensation of his fingers on your skin overwhelmed you.

“God, that’s amazing.” He growled before pulling you into his lap and nuzzling himself into your skin.

You gasped as his tongue flicked out to run over the tattoo, the flat of his tongue tracing the curve of your breast as he followed the pattern over your chest. He groaned as he felt the slightly raised ridges of ink against his lips, his mouth insistent against your breasts as he worshipped the art of your skin.

His arms wrapped around you, pressing you into his face as he worked you over. You tangled your fingers in his hair as his beard scratched at you and he trailed over your ink with his lips and tongue. You cried out when he suddenly laved his tongue over your nipple before sucking it between his lips and making you clench around nothing.

“Fuck, Steve! I’m gonna come!” You whined as he moved to your other nipple and repeated the same process.

His only answer was to growl against your chest and press you into his lap as you swallowed a scream, your grip on his hair growing painful as your pussy fluttered wildly and your whole body shook. He held you tightly as you came down, panting against your chest.

“You have any other ink, sweetheart?” He purred as he finally felt you relax, your breath returning to a regular rhythm while you sank into his lap and he started to press soft kisses up your chest until he was mouthing at your throat.

“Yeah.” You grinned as his teeth scraped over your jaw. “Why? You wanna see?”

“Don’t fucking tease me gorgeous.” He growled. “Where is it?”

“Right leg.” You whimpered as he pressed you against his growing erection.

He moved to cover your mouth with his as he tore your leggings off you, his tongue curling against yours in slow smooth strokes as he laid you down on the bench and ground against you. He pulled away to sit up over you, leaving you breathless and needy as he gazed at your thigh.

His breath hitched as he took in the delicate pattern of vines and flowers that covered your entire leg, disappearing under the fabric of you panties as it moved up your hip. He ripped your panties off and traced over the ink lightly with his fingertips as he ran his tongue over his lower lip.

“Beautiful.” He whispered, taking a beat to gaze at you, your spine twisted to the side as you stared up at him.

You gasped as he ran his hand over the back of your thigh, teasing his thumb over your glistening pussy where it was peeking out from between your legs.

He let out a feral growl and then ripped off his clothes in a frenzy. Your mouth started watering when you got a look at his cock, thick and veiny and you weren’t totally sure you could take all of him but damn if you weren’t gonna give it a try.

He hooked his hand under your knee and spread your legs apart, using his other hand to tease his tip against your puffy lips. You let out an obscene moan as he pushed into you, arching your back even more as he slid his tip into your warm cavern.

“Shit, Steve, keep going!” You whined as he kept pulling you down on his length, your pussy fluttering wildly around his length as he stretched you open, a slight sting accompanying the immensely full feeling af being stuffed to the brim.

He hissed through his teeth when his hips met yours and you started mewling and whimpering like an idiot as you adjusted to him.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking tight.” He muttered, pulling out of you halfway before sliding back in again at a deliciously slow pace.

He pulled out of you again but this time snapped his hips forward viciously, making you scream. His hands kept running over the tattoo on your thigh as he fucked you, his gaze trained on the tattoo under your breasts as your tits bounced with each thrust of his hips. You whined when he hooked your knee over his shoulder, spreading you open even further as he bent over you and ground his pubic bone against your clit.

“Oh fuck, Steve!” You cried as he did the same thing and you started clenching around him with each push of his hips. “Pull my hair! I’m so fucking close!”

He bent over you and pressed his face to yours, his lips tugging at yours insistently until you opened up to him. His hand gripped the hair at the back of your skull and wrenched your head back as he shoved his tongue down your throat.

“Do it. I wanna feel you come all over my cock.” He murmured against your lips as you sobbed with pleasure.

You shrieked as your entire body went rigid before vibrating around his cock as you squirted all over his abs and your eyes rolled back in your skull.

“Shit.” He growled as he buried his face in your neck, his cock throbbing inside you before he filled you with thick white ropes of his cum, fucking it into you with a series of staggered thrusts as the two of you collapsed against the bench.

“So,” you panted as he smothered you under his body weight. “You like tattoos?”

“Love tattoos.” He murmured, pressing his lips to the hollow behind your ear before sitting up and giving you a sloppy grin.

“Maybe I’ll let you watch when I get my next one.” You sighed as he pulled out of you, aftershocks still coursing through your body.

“That may not be the best idea.” He chuckled darkly as he went to grab a towel, biting his lip when he got a view of his cum leaking out of your swollen pussy. “Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

You rolled your eyes at him, catching the towel he tossed you in mid-air and running it over the inside of your thighs.

“Well, unless you’re gonna give me the tattoo Rogers, I don’t really see how that’s gonna be possible.” Your ribs were starting to ache again, making you wince.

He didn’t have a chance to respond before Nat came strolling into the locker room like nothing was happening, laughing lightly as Steve dove behind the line of lockers and let out a steady stream of curses.

“Goddamn it Romanoff!” He swore at her while you rolled your eyes and tossed his sweats over the lockers to him. “Ever heard of knocking?”

“Ever heard of not fucking in the shared locker room?” She said with a shrug as you wrapped a towel around yourself and gave her an apologetic shrug. “Hey Wilson! They’re finished, you can finally pee!”

——————————————————————————

A/N: Welp, this has officially killed me. I’m gonna go shower now and cool down. 🥵🥵🥵🥵

[slasherholic]

synopsis: you reflect on a few incidents in your relationship with asa that really should have tipped you off as red flags while you wait for him to come back and torture you some more.

contains: gender neutral reader, graphic depictions of violence and torture, psychological torture, death, kidnapping, rib trauma, referenced abuse, current abuse because it’s fucking asa, I’ll throw in manipulation and gaslighting just to be safe.

note: quite a few scenes and tidbits in this were heavily inspired by a chat I had with the brilliant and lovely @sanguine--honey, so thanks again for letting me include those in this fic c:

word count: 4k

(Part One, Part Two)

Asa Emory / The Collector x Reader | Loose Ends | Part Three

When he finally unchained you from the pole he dragged you violently up several flights of steep stairs. His strength seemed tireless no matter how much you struggled.

You were bruised and battered and smearing blood on the floor behind you when he got to where he was taking you. He ignored the desperate way you were still screaming at him and threw you violently in a black trunk in a room with bright white lights and steel lab tables. He had slammed the heavy door shut so hard the force of it knocked a painting off the wall. Many locks turned on the other side. You clutched your stomach with both hands and doubled over and began to dry heave.

You sat crying in the dark. When the tears wouldn’t come out anymore, you looked for a way out. Tried to feel around the edges. Your arms burned terribly and you could smell your own body fluids lingering among the overwhelming smell of disinfectant loitering in the air. Your face ached from where he’d held your mouth to silence you when he plunged the needle in. There was a perfectly round hole in the side of the trunk, the size of your pinky nail, that appeared to have been made with a drill. An airhole. Or a peephole.

But the trunk itself was locked up tight. There was no getting out.

 You studied the room through the peephole. There were four other trunks sitting upright on the floor to the left of you, at least that you could see, lined up one after the next to form a semicircle. Each was a different color—red, blue, green, brown, in that order.

You called out very softly and asked if anyone was there.

Silence.

Sniffling again, you sat with your knees curled tightly into your chest, and allowed your mind to romp.

There had been signs, red flags abound, and you had ignored them, made excuses for him in your head, filed every uncomfortable incident away to be rationalized at a later date. You might not have known until the very end that he was this. But you had known enough. Asa, beneath his carefully manufactured charm and suave, was the coldest man you had ever met.

So you arrived at the crushing conclusion that you had nobody to blame for this but yourself.

There had been one instance, close to the start of your relationship, or whatever it was you had with him, where you found yourself very inebriated in his expensively furnished living room.

Asa had implied over dinner that he would like to go upstairs and have sex after you were finished, and he’d cleared the plates off his dining table nearly twenty minutes ago. You challenged him to arm-wrestle first.

“Please?” You spread your legs out on his blue persian rug, intent on staying awhile. 

Asa sat across the room from you in the cushioned chair closest to the hall, his hands folded in his lap. The look on his face was growing rather unamused.

“I already said no. Can we move along?”

“Come on, have a little fun.”

His expression grew more dour still.

“You’re drunk. Very drunk. I thought I told you to go easy with the drinking.”

“You, Dr. Emory, are being a total stick in the mud.”

You pestered him about it until he humored you.

He took you by the hand and set your arm up on his nice coffee table which he had cleared delicately of a stag beetle specimen in a spotless glass display.

“Count of three.” You slurred, a smile growing in your eyes, one he didn’t care to return.

“One.”

He adjusted his grip dexterously around your fingers. His arm was bigger than yours by far.

“Two.”

The thick tendons in his wrist jumped out. It would be no contest. You wanted to try anyway. You thought it would be fun.

“Three.”

You fought against his hand with everything you had. You laughed. Asa let you struggle against him for a few moments, regarding you with an utter lack of concern on his face. For all your efforts you couldn’t budge his wrist by a centimeter. 

Then he smashed your hand so quick and hard into the coffee table your knuckles throbbed and you yelled.

The laughter fell from your face like a stone. You jerked in his grip. His hold moved down to your wrist where he held you tightly and didn’t let go. Suddenly, you didn’t like the way he was looking at you.

Asa, leaning forward, spoke to you very slowly, and made you linger on every syllable, as if you were stupid.

“Are you finished? Shall we move on? Or would you like to go again?”

He squeezed your wrist a bit harder. You could feel the pulse in your arm quickening, throbbing in his grip, which was getting tighter every second.

You let him take you upstairs without suggesting any more games.

In the morning, you hardly remembered the sex, but your hand was bruised. Asa didn’t mention anything to you about it as he got ready for work. It was the last time you had ever been drunk around him.

You jolted awake in the trunk. Your arms burned in a way that sent vicious chills through your extremities. There was a wet stain on the wall where you must have fallen asleep at some point. Resting a hand on the trunk, you stared cautiously through the peephole.

Asa wasn’t there. But the painting that had fallen was back in its place on the wall.

Your stomach sank. You thought some more to try and distract yourself from the pain in your arms and your aching body.

There had been that one night in the park. The night you stayed awake many sleepless hours trying and failing not to remember what you witnessed.

The sunset had dissipated and the only light remaining in the park was what filtered down from the black street lamps towering like spires all along the sidewalk. Asa had touched something on the bench he didn’t like, and had gotten up to wash his hands in the nearby bathroom. 

You watched a pair of moths fluttering around each other near the lamp across the path and noticed someone approaching from the corner of your eye. Assuming it was Asa, you turned to ask him what species he figured they were.

It wasn’t Asa. 

The mugger shoved you forcefully off the park bench. You spilled onto the cold sidewalk, knocking your head on the concrete.

“Give me the fucking wallet.”

The man must have thought you were alone. He wore black jeans and a grey t-shirt. He brandished a short switchblade at you which you stared at with wide terrified eyes. You were shocked to silence, frozen in place.

The mugger made a grab for the wallet in your shaking hands.

And Asa had tackled him from behind with such force that both men went spilling into the grass on the opposite side of the path.

He was back on his feet by the time the mugger was still clambering to his mud-stained knees. You watched Asa’s hand go somewhere beneath his olive jacket as he pulled out a knife you hadn’t known he carried. He flipped it in his grip and held it with the blade angled down toward the grass. His face had become profoundly unreadable. 

His movements dripped with practice and polish as he sized your mugger up. The muscles in his legs were spring-loaded as he stalked back and forth along the grass. Every step had a purpose.

He dove in for a slash across the man’s stomach. You saw blood spray in a wide arc and heard the man make a painful strangled sound. Asa ducked beneath a clumsy swipe for his face, stepping away again. He passed his knife from one hand to the other; now, he was circling the man. Not adjusting his stance. Circling him.

The man lunged at him with a grunt. The switchblade raced for his chest. Asa caught his wrist and slashed him deep across the thigh.

You’d always known his reflexes were astonishingly quick. Once, you dropped your expensive camera while photographing the exhibits at the museum, and he had grabbed it before it hit the ground, lecturing you in a more-or-less jesting manner about getting a lanyard for it as he stood to hand it back to you, an incident which at the time had made your cheeks warm.

Asa planted his shoe squarely in the man’s abdomen and kicked him away hard. The man made a guttural sound as he tumbled back on the grass, gasping for air, and Asa let him clamber to his feet again, still circling. The look on his face was no longer indifference. It was something far more intense.

The man turned, staggering, and tried to run.

Asa was faster. He tackled him again, wrestled him brutally to the sidewalk. The man swung blindly, got lucky in his desperation—and clipped him across the shoulder.

Asa snarled. Not a grunt, it had been a snarl, low and throaty, like an animal.

He slashed violently at the man and his knife flashed sharply in the lamp light. Blood erupted from the cut in a heavy mist. The man fell back on the ground, dropping his own blade, clutching his throat. Asa straddled him on his knees, and grabbed him by the face, wrenching his head up. You heard the crack of the man’s skull meeting the concrete from where you sat.

The man started shouting desperately for help.

You watched Asa raise his knife. His arms and shoulders flexed and strained the sleeves of his jacket. You knew by the look on his face alone that you were about to witness a murder. Before you knew what you were doing, you were yelling at him to stop.

Asa didn’t hear. Or he ignored you.

He drove the knife hard into the man’s stomach.

The man made a wet strangled sound, bringing up his arm to try and block the onslaught, because Asa was already raising his arm again.

He stabbed the same spot. Every stab that followed was faster. The man’s yelling became screaming and you saw Asa’s hand shift to cover his mouth. The man’s muffled screams fell to thin whining. Then ragged wheezing. Then, stopped. 

A cricket chirped beyond the reach of the street lamps. The moths fluttered near the bulb across the path.

Asa straightened up his posture. His nostrils flared heavily with breath. He seemed to take in the gored body on the concrete beneath him, which had gone motionless.

Five seconds hardly passed before he stood, slowly, rising to his full height, carefully side-stepping the body. The man’s blood trickled off the tip of his wet knife and dripped on the concrete next to his black dress shoes. His jacket sleeves and the sides of his charcoal pants across his thighs were stained with long dark swaths. He rolled his shoulders. The breeze tousled his disordered hair.

There had been a few moments you could recall when it really occurred to you how big Asa was.

He wore flattering clothes often, and your eyes were sometimes tempted towards the wide muscles in his chest, but the way he talked to you was very ensnaring, as he always seemed to have something interesting or intelligent or just plain sarcastic in a dry but not-to-be-taken-seriously way to say; so when he spoke, you found it difficult to look anywhere but at his handsome face. You only really witnessed the scope of his strength when you slept with him. The ways he was able to handle you when he wanted made you feel, at times, incredibly vulnerable around him.

Asa had turned his whole body toward you when he considered you where you sat huddled on the sidewalk, reigning in the hot breaths which broadened his chest and spiraled into the chilly night. The man’s blood had gotten on his cheek. You started to shiver. He regarded you with a look that read staggering disapproval, as though this, and what would inevitably follow, was not worth his time, as though it might as well have been your fault, as though he was currently considering very strongly doing something about it later in private.

“You should call the police.”

Before you knew what you were doing or why you were really doing it you scrambled for your phone in your pocket and tapped on the screen with very shaky fingers, “9-1-1.”

The ambulances pulled up to the street corner first followed shortly by two squad cars. Asa stood up slowly from the green park bench to meet them, and you stayed kneeling on the cold sidewalk.

He introduced himself to the officers as Dr. Asa Emory and dealt with their questions very professionally. At one point, he had pulled a neatly folded paper out of his wallet, which the questioning officer took, shined her flashlight at, and returned to him, nodding her head. The story was very apparent: a couple walking in the park had been assaulted at knife-point, and a registered concealed-carry weapon had been used to dispatch the aggressor.

The officers came over to question you. Asa, standing off to the side, removed his bloodied jacket, which he hung neatly over the park bench. He watched you closely. The look on his face was like the prick of a thorn.

You diverted your gaze away from him and nodded at the officer’s questions dumbly, staring at the medical workers as they bagged up the body on the sidewalk. An EMT was called over, who concluded that you were in moderate shock, and that you should go to the hospital.

“I won’t be riding along with you.” Asa was down to his tan sweater, rubbing his newly cleaned fingers together at his side, which he had been given bottles of water to wash off at his request. The indifference on his face didn’t lift as they strapped you down to the gurney.

“The officers have a few more questions, so I’ve agreed to go with them down to the station.”

His words were factual and rhetorical, as if your input on the matter wasn’t at all needed, so you didn’t say anything back to him.

It was the last you heard from him until he showed up in your hospital room several hours later. Your stomach lept a little when the door opened and he came in.

He was wearing a change of clothes, his hair groomed back into place, looking very much the part of respectable Dr. Emory again. He had brought you dinner from the lobby downstairs. 

He sat in the only chair in the room as you picked at the warm mashed potatoes in the black tray, and made conversation about how you were handling things, and if there was anything he could get you, and though it all felt very shallow and obligatory you found yourself playing along as best you could, because sitting in the room alone with him was giving you very obvious goosebumps.

Asa drove you home later that night. You got out of his car without a word, went to your door, and quickly did the lock behind you.

After falling into bed, you were afraid of him. You couldn’t bring yourself to admit it then; you tried to cling tightly to the parts of him you still thought you loved. But from then on, you were, genuinely, afraid of him.

What made it worse, you suspected he saw it, too.

His holds on your wrist when you turned away from him before he had quite finished lecturing you about something very irresponsible or just plain ignorant you had done were firmer. There was the way he moved his jacket occasionally when he shifted his posture, and you caught a glimpse of his holstered knife for a moment too long. And how, when he asked you a question—one to which you didn’t immediately have an answer—he turned all his attention on you, and began to approach you, boxing you in, cutting off your escape, slowly repeating the question. 

He’d known. Without a doubt, he had known.

Sobbing started in the trunk next to you and it jolted you harshly out of your thoughts.

It sounded like a man. A younger man. You tried to talk to him.

“Hello?”

Sudden silence fell. You repeated yourself.

“Is someone there?”

“-Yes.”

The voice came out very quietly. For a moment, you didn’t say anything. You didn’t know what there was to say.

“What’s your name?”

Silence for another moment.

“It’s Noah.”

There was rattling as Noah shifted in his trunk.

Noah told you he’d been taken on a Tuesday. A horrendous sinking feeling settled in your stomach at that.

Tuesday was six days ago. Asa had come back very late that night smelling strongly of disinfectant and nitrile, as he did sometimes. You figured he'd stayed past closing hours at work for something important but asked him about it anyway, in the name of making casual conversation, an occurrence which had been growing steadily more reclusive between the two of you. His response had been clipped and curt. You didn’t ask him any more about it.

Noah seemed to hear Asa coming down the hall before you did.

“Stop. Stop talking.” His voice was suddenly desperate, laced with terror. “He’s coming back. He’s coming back. Please don’t talk. Don’t say anything.”

But that wasn’t part of the plan.

The locks clicked open on the other side of the black door.

You started pleading at him with your raw hoarse voice the second he stepped into the room.

“Asa, please! You know I didn’t tell anyone! I’ll do anything you want, you know I will! Asa, please!”

You weren’t even sure what you were begging him for. Please let me out. Please clean my arms before they get infected. Please don’t hurt me anymore.

He shoved your trunk so violently as he walked past that your head knocked against the wood and everything went dizzy for a moment.

Through the airhole, through your fresh, blurry tears, you watched him squat down, and unlock the brown trunk next to yours, the one the young man was in.

Noah couldn’t have been older than his early twenties but his face was exhausted and gaunt. His shirt was gone and his red sweatpants were soaked through with sweat or something else. The shackles around his wrists and ankles rattled as Asa’s arm darted into the trunk.

He wrenched the young man out by his tangled brown hair. Noah made an anguished sound, but didn’t struggle much as Asa hauled him swiftly towards the operating table. 

It occurred to you then what Asa had drilled the peephole in your trunk for. 

The young man begged desperate things while Asa locked his shackled wrists and ankles down to the fixtures on the table. No. Not again. Stop. Please don’t do it again. You looked closer, noticing the long row of stitches running down his side, the skin around them still red and puffy, and thought you might be sick.

Asa grabbed him roughly by the face, and leaned in very close, settling his hand on his bare abdomen. He said something next to Noah’s head too quiet for you to overhear. Noah’s chest heaved rapidly. Asa stood again, and gave the side of his ribs a light stroke before he walked away.

The young man on the table had paled fast. He lay staring at the ceiling with huge unblinking eyes, trembling, looking very much in shock at what he had just heard.

Asa took his time choosing the surgical tools from his cabinets. You watched him prepare the room, too afraid to look away. Maybe it was all a bluff. Please god let it be a bluff. He laid out two separate trays on the stainless-steel countertops, putting his tools in one, and set an extra out near the sink.

It wasn’t a bluff.

Noah was very awake when Asa began to cut his chest open. 

His body obscured your view of the table but you knew the exact moment the scalpel sank in because the young man made a horrible screeching noise and began thrashing violently in his chains in a huge clamor. His body seized and his eyes rolled back in his head. He seemed to try to vomit; nothing came out. 

Asa did not carry out his work hastily. Finished with the bloodied scalpel, he set it in the tray adjacent to his clean tools. When he turned away from the counter, you glimpsed his face.

The look of steady concentration he wore was no different from the times he’d let you watch him process an important specimen or sketch or paint. He clamped Noah’s skin back with pairs of forceps, and peeled off his wet black gloves, beneath which he was already wearing a fresh pair.

You took in the sight on the table while Asa went to the corner of the room to discard the gloves. Noah’s wet red ribs glistened beneath the long hanging lights and you could smell the slippery viscera from where you sat. You watched them expand as his lungs inflated with tortured breath, which was no longer anything but a bloody gurgling deep in his throat.

Asa came back, going next for the surgical pliers, ghosting his hand along his options until he seemed to settle on the proper one. When he looked up, pliers in hand, he was deliberately, unmistakably, casting his gaze across the room at your trunk. As if to make sure you were still watching.

Your heart nearly stopped. Air wouldn’t come in.

Then he returned to his work and started clipping Noah’s ribs off.

You could hear the bone snapping every time. The young man passed out more than twice on the table and that was the only time there was silence in the room.

Asa deposited the rib clippings in a third tray, and went to wash them free of blood and tissue in the steel sink while the near-corpse on the table made awful rattling noises, struggling to breathe; Noah seemed to be watching Asa, too, trying at least, but the immensity of his struggle had burst capillaries in his eyes.

Asa laid the ribs out on a pristine white cloth, organizing them from shortest to longest, toweling them individually off, and went about measuring them lengthwise with a yellow tape, then again around their circumference. He placed them gently in a bin, sealed the lid tight, went for a pen, and wrote something in his neat handwriting on the label.

You watched him take a curved needle and load it carefully with fine black suturing thread pinched delicately between his finger and thumb. Noah screamed and squirmed weakly with all he had left as it went in, which wasn’t much at all. Asa pulled the needle in and out, bringing his skin back together until his gaping chest was shut again.

The young man was still alive when Asa hauled him back into the trunk, a fresh row of black knots holding his ruined flesh closed.

Or at least he was still twitching, blinking, drawing shuddering agonized breaths through his wide-open mouth from which there ran an endless trickle of saliva and blood. The bottom of his stitched-shut chest was concave where his lower ribs used to be. He didn’t look like he’d live another hour. You hoped he wouldn’t.

Asa shut the lid and did the latches.

He went back to the counter for the ribs, taking an indirect path around the table, which carried him right towards you. You scrambled back from him as fast you could. The trunk didn’t let you get very far. You felt his fingers rap along the lid from one side to the other and couldn’t choke back your broken sound.

He left through the heavy door, doing up all the locks, and this time, you heeded Noah’s advice. Your mouth stayed utterly, obediently, shut.

After a few minutes of hopeless wheezing, Noah fell silent in the brown trunk, and never made another sound after that.

[taetaespeaches]

Hi,bestie 💜💜💜

I miss talking to you... i am late to the party but your blurbs just saved my week. You have a way to make me feel things that i can't explain.

You are my favorite writer and i can't wait for the new york times to ask me about you and i'll be like "me and Liv? Yeah we go way back"

And if you still feel like writing something, that "i want you to be happy" line just screams Min/Kid

Love you 💜💜💜💜💜

“I want you to be happy.”

yoongi x reader (oc) genre: angst; fluff/comfort word count: 600+

a/n: Hi bestie!! I finally felt inspired to write this prompt this morning, so please enjoy lol. But also bare with me bc it is very unedited :/ you're the absolute sweetest, btw, thank you 💜💜 love you!! I hope everyone enjoys and thanks for reading! :))

Happiness. What is it really? An end goal? Or maybe it’s found in the momentary everyday events, those small moments adding up to happy.

Curled up against the arm of Yoongi’s studio couch, you thought about the seemingly elusive concept, zoned out as you stared at the speaker in front of you. You didn’t notice the way the sound that pulsed inside the cone cut out, nor did you hear when Yoongi called out your name.

You had no way of telling how long the man spoke your name, trying to grab your attention, but suddenly the sound echoed from his lips, meeting your ear drum. Eyes widening and snapping to meet his, you were met with an expression of overwhelming concern.

“Hey, are you ok?” He asked gently. Yoongi was attentive, patient, tender, always treating you with the utmost understanding. Nodding in his direction, you watched as a sigh left the man. “Kid, you’re crying.”

Blinking your eyes quickly, you shook your head, both to show disappointment in your emotion, and as a delayed and more honest reply to his question. Staring at you for a moment, he frowned.

“What can I do for you?” He asked, unsure of what had sprung your emotions, or how to fix it.

Shrugging at him, he slowly arose from his chair and made his way to you. Sitting next to you, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you against his frame, tucking you into the safety he provided.

Maybe that was all he could do; give you his understanding and compassion, his safety and warmth. Maybe that was enough.

“I don’t want to be a burden to you,” you mumbled against his chest as tears slipped from your eyes, dropping to his t-shirt, evidence of your vulnerability. “I’m a lot, I’m sorry.”

“You’re not a burden, you’re not a lot,” he countered. “And you could never be too much, so don’t go there.”

“But what if I am?” You asked through your emotions.

“You’re just not ok right now, Kid. It’s ok to not be ok,” he told you sweetly. “I want to provide a space where you can be not ok.”

As he spoke to the words to you, you held onto him a little tighter, allowing Yoongi to do the same to you.

“I want you to be happy,” he whispered into your hair just before pressing a kiss to the spot. “Happiness is full of highs and lows. Just because you’re not ok in a moment doesn’t mean you’ll never be ok again. But it doesn’t help to keep things bottled up.”

Feeling safe in his arms, a small smile curved on your lips despite the tears that still wet your eyelashes. Looking up at him, his eyes widened cutely at the expression you wore, your grin a contrast to your tear-stained cheeks.

“I don’t think I got it the first several times, what did you say it’s ok to not be?” You teased, Yoongi scoffing as he flashed that gummy smile you adored so much.

“Ok, he said simply. “It’s ok to not be ok.” Giving him a single nod, he chuckled as he shook his head. “I’ll tell you as many times as you need.”

Cuddled up against Yoongi, you realized that happiness was exactly that. Having a space of comfort and security, where it was ok to not be ok. Happiness was found in the feeling of his warmth radiating against your skin; seeing his smile, full of gums and teeth, unabashed when he directed it to you; the breathy sound of his chuckle and the way his shoulders shook just slightly; the gentle expression of care that he looked at you with. Sometimes happiness was sitting in his studio and watching him lose himself in his work, or hearing his newest creation and sensing the edge of nervousness he had while sharing something so important with someone so important to him.

Yoongi’s presence in your life was happiness. And for that, you were grateful.

[aesopsbaby]

Can I request for yandere Mike with a darling that is always scared of him and tries to escape everytime but one day Mike just doesn't seem too happy and was just not himself and darling decides to help him? Idk. I just thought it was cute. Thanks!

Just Once

Note: I love this idea! And I added a few things to add onto the plot(?) <3

Summary: Yandere!Mike is having troubles keeping his personalities in and is losing control of himself. Darling feels bad for him,therefore helping him.

Mike loves you and loves spending quality time with you <3 Well,,,if quality time is what you call; Pushing him away physically when he tries to hug you/kiss you on the cheek,then yeah,quality time I guess-

Mike definitely gets a tad bit upset/disappointed whenever you scurry away from him out of fear. His heart shatters into a million pieces whenever he sees you so afraid of him.

Given how scared you are of him already,wouldn't it be worse if his personalities were to come out when he was with you? Mike is just so worried that you'd fear him even more than you already do if you had seen his other personalities! Especially Mal,,,

Of course it would be inevitable that Mike's alters won't come out when around you! So you probably have met almost all of them.

What Mike dislikes is that he doesn't have any control when an alter is to take over so he wouldn't know if they were scaring you or not! What if you were terrified? What if you ran away?!

Mike is in constant fear <\3 It's not that he doesn't trust you! He does! He really does! Well,,,,he tries to! But you just make it so difficult for him by trying to escape every single time :(

He sometimes get frustrated when you deny his affections and would just sigh audibly.

Mike tries really hard to get you to trust him <\3 He understands that you'd be afraid in this sort of situation but come on! Give him a chance!

Mike tends to leave the room everytime he gets even a bit overwhelmed with all this emotions,because he doesn't want to risk an alter coming out and taking control. Especially not Mal.

"Just...just stay here,please?"

Mike would plead,an exasperated look on his face as one hand is held against his temple,as if he's massaging it due to stress.

Then he would leave the area and into a more secluded area with noone around.

Mike sometimes hits himself or even pulls on his hair due to the frustrations of getting his alters to stay in :(( he may even cry a little as well because he's just so overwhelmed.

You may or may not have tried to use this opportunity to escape this situation,,,,that is until you heard slight grunts and...is that a sniffle? Was Mike,the delusional psychopath,crying??

You wouldn't know what had gotten into you. You would have found yourself walking towards the direction of those sounds.

Honestly,Mike would be shocked and even a bit suspicious when you suddenly come over and wrap your arms around him.

"W...what...? Are you okay,Y/n?"

He would be concerned at how affectionate you were being,did something happened? Are you trying to trick him?

All his thoughts were thrown out of the window when you confessed your reasoning;

"...I just wanted to help you."

Mike would melt instantly. A huge smile on his features as he looks at you, and also the tears were now freely flowing down his cheeks <\3

You would place your hands on either sides of his face and wipe away the tears,alarmed at the sudden waterworks.

Mike would relax his entire body once your hands made contact with his face, he would quite literally be leaning his entire weight onto you,,,

Mike would immediately place his hands over yours to keep your hands on his face <3 His eyes would be closed as his breathing is now balanced and smooth.

Mike would have a small and soft smile on his face as he gently leans into your palms.

"You're so good to me,love.."

Mike would,from now on,go straight to you for comfort whenever he feels like an alter is taking control. You help him to be in control and to calm down <3