#had that happen my whole life. its called compensating for my struggles. “if i write well maybe people will stop treating me bad” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

barzzal · 4 years ago

Text

between halls and thin walls → part three

summary: friends who fool around almost never work. almost.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: fingering, fem and male receiving, mentions of pornography, sexual/suggestive themes, swearing, mat not knowing how to eat pussy, anddd too much sneaking around i’m hating myself for it

↳ genre: fluff, angst, smut, roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+

↳ length: series; part one, part two, part three (8.6k), part four, part five, part six

↳ masterlist: the barn

↳ track: god is fair, sexy nasty, cinderella, planet god damn by mac miller

note: so sorry for the wait! have been a lot busier with uni :(( took weeks for me to finally sit down and write on my laptop to finish this aaaah anw here’s the update and i’m making it up to yall i hope you like!! happy reading babies <3

“Wait–” you break off, your fingers already weaving through his ever so gorgeous hair.

“What about Tito?” you fret.

You’re sure there was at least a hint of annoyance in his voice. Possibly irked that you had to ruin the one thing you both have been craving for for weeks.

“He won’t come home, trust me.” he says, lips already making its way back to touch your skin, nestling on your jawline, before trailing down to the intricate line of your neck, his movement hasty with a sense of hunger and urgency.

You didn’t mind. It felt good.

“Okay– no. Let’s stop this for a sec.” you try to snap out of it, pushing him away but just enough to keep him within arms reach. You rest both your hands on his broad shoulders whilst he rests his on your hips, just a few inches above your ass.

“We need to clear things out.” you start, eyes lingering on his irises, making you wet your lips at the sight.

“Didn’t we clear things out thrice now?” he quirks his brows, “And it kinda looks like we’re about to clear the same thing for the fourth time. What’s not clear about it?” Mat kids, half laughing as he lets you punch him playfully, “I’m not kidding, Barz.” you say, clearing your throat.

You didn’t mind for any of his double entendres but you did mind the fact that whatever’s about to happen tonight is bound to tip the scales of whatever it was that you were having with Mathew.

“Fine. Let’s talk,” he agrees. He walks towards the bed just as he began pulling his shirt off over his head to undress himself.

“Mathew!” you call him yet again, earning yourself a defensive shrug from him, “What? We’re gonna have sex either way might as well talk while we’re at it, right?” he counters, “Now, take your clothes off.”

Regardless of being annoyed at him for acting like an unreasonable child engaging in too much banter, you let out a laugh in disbelief, letting Mathew’s quirks have a hold on you. You roll your eyes out but do as you’re told and begin taking your shirt off which you then throw his way.

Mat whistles, a smirk sprouting off his lips, evidently in awe of how good you looked half-naked, “Wow.”

You cock up a smirk and shrug to play it off, “Well, you’re not so bad yourself.” you turn the compliment back which Mat only reciprocated with a taunting wink, brushing his shoulder briefly like an idiot.

“So. How do you want to play this?” you inquire.

“Naked, I hope.” he laughs, putting his sweats off revealing nothing but his boxers on. When he sees you roll your eyes, yet again, almost wondering if you’re going to bawl it out at any moment, Mat clears his throat and decides to dial down his terrible jokes.

“Fine. Let’s just say we’re doing ‘Friends with Benefits’ or, you know, what was that movie again?” he thinks for a second, snapping his fingers as he gathers a few romantic comedies he’s seen in the past. “No Strings Attached! The one with Natalie Portman! Yeah, that��s the one.” he marvels.

You look at him quite stunned that he’s familiar with these movies. “Wow. I thought you guys are just into full-on pornography and sports.”

“Hey!” he retorts, defending himself at once, “I’m speaking your language, dumbass. And for the record, I don’t like porn.” with that, you let out a loud laugh accompanied by a scoff, obviously not buying any of his lies. To which Mat jumps to defend himself the moment he sees the mocking look in your eyes, “What?? Not all men likes pornography, y/n.”

With both hands on your hips, you arch your brow at him and reply with a revolting grin, “First rule, no lying. I wasn’t born last night, Barzal.”

“Fine. I don’t like it like it.” he points out just as he averts your gaze, “But I’m certainly not against it. Those girls need to make a living, y/n.”

You meet his cocky remark with an exasperated sigh, “You’re such a pig.”

Mat answers with a shrug, letting your judgmental glares slide, “Call me names, I don’t care. You’re the one sleeping with a pig.”

And as if it had been expected all along, it didn’t take long for the both of you to end up in bed, wearing nothing but your skin, breathing in each other’s breaths, gasping as you let yourselves let loose with the company of a friend.

Mathew marvels at the sight of your heaving chest whilst his head was wedged in between your thighs, going on endless circles as he nibbles on your clit, perhaps trying a little too hard to make you meet your high.

What the fuck is he doing? is probably what every girl has asked herself when a man goes down on her thinking that he already got her all figured out.

Mathew knew what he was doing to be fair. He was there. For the most part. His fingers were nothing but magic but his mouth was a different subject. It was almost as if he was overachieving something. Kind of like the way he does during plays that would eventually cause them the game.

He’s in his head a little too much. That’s for sure. You didn’t want to ruin the moment so you decide to let it slide and put on your best suit. After all, it wasn’t the first time you had to fake your sexual orgasms. You weren’t entirely surprised though. Half of the men you’ve gone out with didn’t know shit about eating pussy. And Mat was pretty, at least he had that going on for him.

You bit your lower lip, trying to suppress the fact that you weren’t enjoying it. Mat was doing all sorts of things at once and it was all too much. Too much that you’d rather finish the job yourself than have someone licking your region like a fucking chew toy.

As much as you didn’t want to, you arch your back and let out a fake moan, curling your fingers on the sheets, the other tugging on Mat’s hair, staging the perfect scene Mat had wanted to see. He emerges from below and hovers on top of you with a proud grin on his face, oblivious of the dramatic pin you’ve successfully put into the night.

“And that, my friend,” he smirks, “is how you do it.”

Oh, believe me, it is not. You try to smile, “Hm. It’s that easy, huh?”

“Well, yeah. Think of it like a scrimmage.” he says as he starts to pepper kisses on your cheeks, his hands roaming around your body, compensating for what his mouth missed. “Or a shootout even.”

“I’m thinking no.” you deny, “Rule two, if talking hockey is your definition of dirty talk, you better zip it.” you stress out as you prop your leg around his waist in order for you to move on top of him.

Mat chuckles, trying to mask how much he longed to feel your mouth envelop his member. There hasn’t been a day where the image of you sucking his length didn’t enter his mind. It didn’t matter where he was. Whether he was in the shower, on the road with the boys, leaving for practice, or just tying his skates. He wanted nothing more than to look down at you as your little tears revolt to escape your doe eyes whilst you take him whole. Indeed, it was a sight for Mathew. And god knows how much he’s willing to give just to see it again.

You spit just as you kiss the tip of his shaft, stroking his length in a circular motion to spread your saliva on his cock before you proceed on pressing gentle kisses on his head; edging him for not letting you cum— unconsciously wanting him to know how to give a goddamn head the right way.

You patiently went your way as you began taking him in your mouth, inching down his thickness without breaking off of his dark and lustful gaze. Mat rests his head on the headboard, his breathing growing heavy and hoarse whilst he watches his dick be consumed by your hollowing cheeks, sucking the life out of him.

“Fuck. You’re so good.” he groans, pulling your hair with his free hand before guiding you further down his dick. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Flattered by his praises which you find undeniably hot, you pop him out of your mouth, letting all your spit drip onto it just before gathering it back once you start licking him underneath, sucking on his balls as your tongue goes on little circles, playing with it for a while before letting it go with a loud pop.

You watch Mat lose his mind with every movement you make but you know full well not to let him come in your mouth. It’s bad enough you didn’t get to come the first time he tried tonight. You won’t have yourself seeing the light of day high and dry while Mat gets to doze off the second you leave for his door.

You climb on top of him. Mat was rather quick to let his hands find its way to your hips, your pussy sitting on his flat stomach just enough to let him know how wet you still are for him in spite of not getting the fun you’ve wanted for your own.

“Where’s the rubber?” you ask him. Mat props himself quickly and carefully shifts towards his bedside table. You feel him on your back, poking on your skin whilst he pulls out one of the drawers. He fishes a wrapped condom straight from the box which he then swiftly opens with his teeth, motioning for you to get off of him first so he could get settled.

“Ready?” you ask him, “Ready.”

Mat rolls over and secures you in between his hands resting on both sides of your head. You feel his head poking against your abdomen as he finally takes his shaft to rub it in between you far too moistened slit just before he takes the plunge and dive deep.

“So,” you struggle to find the words as Mat finally starts making up for his loss a while ago. Your fingers envelop his nape, digging on his skin as you let himself adjust inside you. Stretching you whole with barely half his dick pushing through you. Thank god this was one of the many things Mat definitely did not suck at.

“Wanna walk me through this whole set up?”

Mathew groans, his chest hard against yours as he pumps inside you at a steady pace; one that was pleasurably slow. One that had you closing your eyes whilst you let your head sink into his pillows.

Despite working his way on tending to too many things at once, with his thumb brushing on one of your nipples, his lips attached to your earlobes, and his free hand secured on your hips, Mat whispers in your ear. “It’s like what we’ve agreed on that night.” he breathes heavily, his mind trailing off to that night momentarily before he speaks again, “We’re friends.”

“And?” you whine as you feel his wet lips brush briefly on your sensitive skin just enough to send chills up your spine, making you crave more of his touch; a grave wanting kindling inside your gut like fire.

“Friends…” he repeats in between kisses, “who likes to do this.” his lips travel from the corner of your lips and onto your jaw line. He then lets himself pull away just so he could look you in the eye, all whilst maintaining both your bodies moving in sync as you follow his lead.

“You do know that things like this almost never work, right?” you honestly say, telling him the very same thing you’ve told him when you first crossed the line and threw everything you’ve progressively built with him throughout the years of being Anthony’s best friends.

“Almost is good enough for me.” he counters with a husky voice, feeling constrained by how tight your pussy was around him. It had been a while and Mat was going insane just by thinking about how your cunt was made exactly for him. It was absurd for him to think such a thing but he would not deny the sensation coursing through his veins as if sex had become something entirely new to him. That you have miraculously been able to paint something far better than what he’s already gotten used to for who knows how long; luring him into the worst kind of addiction he could get himself into. And although Mathew wanted to hate himself that it had to happen with you, he knew he couldn’t.

“Let’s not have secrets,” he suggests. You raise both your brows, quite intrigued that he requested such a thing. “We’re not that close to have secrets, Barzal.” you remind him.

“Exactly!” he cheers, voice briefly rising as you let out a moan escape when he pushes himself deeper through your heated walls. Mat hurriedly locks your mouth with his, swallowing all your moans before continuing with his case.

“That’s the point. We’re not that close so we shouldn’t be keeping anything from each other. You tell me everything. Good or bad, and I’ll do the same.”

You shoot him a questioning look, pushing him briefly so you could position yourself on top of him. Your action was very much well-received on Mathew’s end and it’s amazing how he’s able to lift you close to his torso before the two of you roll over the switch-game without letting his dick slip out of you.

“Are you saying we’re going to be in a relationship? You’re way over your head, mister.” you laugh because it was exactly what it sounded. At least for you.

Mat rolls his eyes as he takes a pillow to support his back. His hands then roamed from your thighs before settling to cage your hips to lock it with his, “First of all, bold of you to assume that’s ever gonna happen.”

You scoff.

“Second, it’s more of a mutual agreement and definitely less than a relationship.” he points out to reiterate that having said ‘relationship’ with you was the last thing he wanted.

Your hands take rest atop his chest as you start working on rocking your hips at a gentle pace; the kind that had Mathew at a loss for words for a moment, his body taking over his mind as your physique towers all over him. Mathew meets you halfway while you do most of the work. He angles himself forward so as to reach for your tits, his mouth latching on one of your buds, thirsty like a newborn child. Your fingers find their way to his tousled hair, its disheveled state unbelievably making him much more difficult to resist.

The two of you worked each of your own highs whilst you rock each other’s bodies. Exchanging moans and groans thrown carelessly throughout the room. You were all over Mathew as much as he was with you. His strong and capable hands that moved so well on your body, made you crave for more. Mathew took control of the pace now, his arms embracing your waist closer to his body that no amount of spatial space could ever be perceived by either of you.

“Come for me.” Mat orders, voice almost inaudible as he was chasing his own, the moment he feels you throb rapidly around him, fluttering like butterflies while he watches you shut your eyes. Just like that, you finally reach the ecstasy you’ve been longing for the whole night; one that was specifically shut down by Mathew’s stale mouth.

You let Mat take over. He orders you to turn your back against him before he pulls you rapidly close to his front, your ass perked up close to his skin. His mouth leaves fashioned bites on your neck whilst he held you firmly by your forearm. Mathew begins pounding on you hard from behind, his sharp and abrupt movements painting bruises you know will show up the next morning.

You were all over the place and you didn’t care. It was messy, it was loud. The sound Mathew’s lips leave on your skin, his balls banging against your pussy, your moans— his groans. Everything was off the record book but neither of you wanted to stop.

With one final thrust, you feel his body grow all the more rigid behind you. Mathew’s hand was wrapped firmly around your neck whilst he caught his breath.

“You good back there, bud?” you ask, chuckling.

“Oh, shut up.” he says, finally letting you go.

The two of you gather yourselves. Mat discards the wrapper and offers to clean up after the mess he’d made but you profusely decline.

“I’m not your girlfriend. You don’t have to take care of me.” you tell him with a strong suit as you begin picking up your clothes.

“I know–” he cuts himself off when he sees you getting into your pants, “Where are you going?” he questions.

“Rule four. No staying the night.” you point out, grabbing your sweatshirt from the floor. “You come to my room, I come to yours, but that’s that. No more, no less.” you add.

Mathew looks stunned. Obviously on board with how well you were taking things so easily.

“Alright then, buddy.” he strides his way towards his bed still naked.

“We don’t speak about any of this in the morning.” you warn him for you know how the three of you tend to leave the house almost at the same exact time as each other. Meaning that this new setup of yours is bound to be much difficult if you let anything slip off your hold.

Mathew runs his fingers on his lips as if to zip it before he jumps on the bed, already reaching for his phone that was on his bedside table so he could check the gram.

You were just on your way out of his door when he called you one last time, a teasing smile creeping on his lips, “What’s rule five?”

“No funny business.” you say at once. You look at him one last time with your own teasing smile to mock him from across the room, “No strings attached.” you say, repeating how he used the movie as a reference from a while back before finally disappearing into the hall.

𖥸

Who would have known agreeing to such a set up would mean getting laid almost every chance you get?

It had been a few weeks since you and Mat committed to your foolish escapades after sorting out your mutual agreement. Said escapades involve a handful of times of you driving over to the Coli to pick him up right after his morning skate and get off the back of your car. It wasn’t that big of a deal being that Mathew usually rides with Anthony for work. Of course, there were also times where you would call him into your office just to grab a quick lunch. On those times you always make sure to leave out at least half an hour or so before going home to avoid unnecessary suspicions from Tito and you and Mathew have been mindful so as not to let him notice anything.

Mat had mentioned how he was already looking for a place nearer to yours and Tito’s but farther than his previous complex. The place was half an hour less than the travelling time Tito had to drive to from when they used to ride together going home. And now that you were officially friends and more than just acquaintances, Mat has asked you to come and see the place with him.

You took a lift on your way to Mat’s and let’s just say, that for a man with a whopping 21M at his disposal, the building was grand but it wasn’t as boujee as you’ve expected. It might’ve been your lack of a better judgement but Mathew just didn’t seem to be the kind of guy who would be smart when it comes to his finances. You’ve always thought that he was the kind to splurge on things whenever he gets the chance. Although much to your surprise, just like everyone else, he was a simple man.

You knock on the door a few times before you hear the familiar footsteps nearing the front door.

“Hey,” a signature grin welcomes you. He opens the door wider and invites you in. “Took you long enough.”

“Well, I had better things to do, Barzal.” you retort as you start to scan the vicinity.

The flat had floor to ceiling windows so the surroundings were well lit. You were making your way further when you noticed a few sealed boxes laying around what you assumed to be where the living space was going to be.

“I thought you were just looking?” you ask, brows furrowed in confusion whilst you look back at him, pointing on the storages with your thumb.

As expected, the entire apartment was painted in white and beige tones. Pretty much like every Islander’s home you’ve been to. It was quite spacious just like his former home. That being said, spacious doesn’t necessarily mean ‘good’ sometimes. For one thing, it didn’t feel home to you. It felt like a cage with huge-ass windows overlooking a scenery you can’t even lay your hand on. You keep your thoughts to yourself, not wanting to ruin Mat’s excitement for the place. Sure enough, it’ll all come together once he gets settled.

Mat walks towards you, taking a deep breath. “I was. But the offer was really good so I figured signing the lease right away would be a smart move.” he explains. When he sees your gaze trail off onto the boxes again, Mat feels the need to reassure you that he wasn’t going to move out of your apartment just yet.

“I won’t be moving in for another month or two, just to be clear. Those are just some stuff I didn’t want hogging all the space at home.” he says candidly pertaining to your apartment as his home, not even realizing the weight he had tied to his words.

You were quick to dismiss your own unsolicited thoughts and carried on with the semi-tour Mat was starting to indulge you with. “Are you sure you’re gonna live here alone? Feels like a whole penthouse up here.” you honestly say, half-laughing as you make way towards the hallway.

“Yeah. I mean, it would be great for when the team comes over.” he says as he follows your tracks. “The penthouse is actually two floors above mine though.”

You roll your eyes at his subtle remark, “Why’d you made me come here anyway?”

And as if Mat had remembered the task he originally had in mind, he walks right past you to lead the way. “I want your opinion on something.”

“Really? What is it?” you inquire, following after his footsteps. Mat stops and opens a door leading to what you assume is the master bedroom. Situated at the center of the fairly spacious room is a california king sized bed, waiting patiently to be slept on.

Mat looks back at you and says, “D’you think it’s any good?”

He lets you roam around the place, setting yourself down on the foot of the bed. “Bed’s nice actually.” you tell him and you stand at once to look more of his semi-furnished room.

“How nice is it exactly? Like, nice to sleep on or nice to not get any at all?” you turn around, rolling your eyes at his sleazy innuendos. “You’re such a tool. You really made me come all the way here to get me tied down this bed?”

Mat only answers with a shrug. An adorable one to be exact. “What? That’s what friends are for, y/n. Now, come on. Test the bed with me.” he says, taking your hand at once before you could even answer. He lets himself fall onto the bed as he caught your weight in his arms, your bodies dangerously close to each other, feeling your own body temperatures.

His hands roam around your clothed physique just as he starts to cage you in a well heated kiss. Your lips dance with his, letting his tongue slip whenever he gets the chance, nibbling on your tongue as the two of you enjoy exchanging your own take on what house warming gifts are supposed to look like.

Mat’s hands were already gripping on the curve of your ass when the sound of your and Mathew’s kisses were stopped by a sudden knock on the door. Your hand immediately trailed down from Mat’s nape to his chest, “Are you expecting someone?”, he thinks for a second, both of his hands still secured on your bottoms.

“Oh!” he gasps upon remembering who could it possibly be, “It’s probably my realtor. He’s picking some stuff up, I’ll go get it.” he says, propping himself up as a cue for you to get off of him.

“Would you mind getting the door? I’ll be quick, I promise.” he adds, looking back at you as he steps out of the room, heading for the other side of the hallway. He speaks in an apologetic tone, feeling sorry for having to cut off the purpose of your visit. So, in an effort to let him know he had nothing to worry about, you shake your head as you finish straightening the wrinkles off your work clothes.

“No, it’s all right, I got it.” you give him a reassuring smile.

You gladly make your way towards the door, not even bothering to look through the hole. You hand enveloped the cold metal, swinging the door wide open, leaving yourself not a chance at escape as soon as your eyes landed on those all too familiar big blue ones you’ve known all your life.

“Y/N?” a puzzled expression was all you could make out of Tito’s face. You tried stumbling for a few words in the hopes of calming your already racing heart impending to escape your chest at any moment.

“What are you doing here?” he asks in utmost bewilderment. You were still in shock being that you’ve never lied to Anthony before since he’s the only one you’ve told everything to most of the time. Having him here, clearly unexpected, has evidently thrown you off guard.

You maintain your gaze at him and throw the same question back, “What are you doing here?”

“Mat and I are going out with Mikey and Noah for drinks.” he answers quickly so he could throw the ball your way, “You didn’t answer me. I didn’t know you knew about this place already?” he furrows his brows, looking over your shoulder to get a glimpse of his best mate.

“Uhm. Mat called me to discuss a few things. Showed me some stuff too.” you nervously say, tip toeing on the fact that what you just told him wasn’t entirely a lie. You open the door all the way and finally let him in. Your knuckles were wrapped hard around the cold metal knob, wishing that Mat would come out to the room to save your ass.

You must have gotten on a wrong foot and told Tito a lie that’s bound to invite more suspecting queries.

“Really? What stuff?”

His bed, where he was just about to defile me on.

Thankfully, Mat walks out the open room holding an envelope in his hand, immediately halting his tracks the moment he sees Anthony looking straight at him.

“Beau! What–” he tries to remain composed, but you know Tito would definitely pick up on something just by how pale Mat’s face was. Dead and cold like someone who had seen a ghost for the first time.

“What— am I doing here?” Anthony finishes Mat’s question just as he turns his gaze back at you. You try to avert his gaze but you figured it’s best not to. You need to go before him strong and level headed. The last thing you and Mathew want is to get caught in the act by no other than the last person you want to know about it.

“What?” He laughs, brushing Tito’s biting tone off. “I know why you’re here, silly.” he tries to search in his head momentarily, but when he takes long enough, Tito answers it for him. “Drinks, man. You texted me for drinks.”

“Oh– yeah, no. I knew that.” he breathes out an uneasy laugh.

“Why is Y/N here? I didn’t know you guys hung out? The last time I checked you can’t even last in the same room without slashing each other’s throats.” he smirks.

Surprisingly, Mat was fast enough to come up with quite a clever way to sway Anthony from his inkling suspicions. One that made sense, but not necessarily helpful in your end. “Psh. That?” Mat throws a hand towards your way, dismissing your presence in his unfurnished apartment, “She told me she needs money so I hired her to move my boxes for me. She even insisted on listing all the stuff I’ll eventually get rid of online.”

Anthony looks back at you, surprised that you didn’t go and asked for his help instead. “How much do you pay her?” he asks Mat again.

“Uh, five… ten bucks?” Mat scratches the back of his head and your face immediately falls to your palm.

“Ten?” he questions, glancing at you. “Don’t you have your own office and a secretary? What do you need the ten bucks for?” Tito’s tone was now getting more curious and Mat, just like he always was, was dumb enough to forget you were earning more than just ten bucks for a living.

“Did I say ten? I meant fifty— per hour.” Mathew takes it back instantly, following it with a lie that involves you asking him for a job because your publisher ordered you to for a book she wants you to sign for. Not that any of it made sense but at least Anthony seemed to have bought it. When you agree, Mat immediately takes Anthony in his arms as he guides him out to the door, snatching his coat resting atop his kitchen island.

Mat looks over to you once more, both of their bodies already at the other side of the door, “You did great today, y/n. I’ll write you a check in the morning!” he says pushing Tito, who was still asking questions, farther from the door.

Before Mathew disappears, he looks at you with his big doe eyes already thanking you for going along such a stupid make-up excuse. You roll your eyes as you watch him mouth a quiet ‘Sorry’, flashing his ever so gorgeous smile before him and Tito finally went on their way.

𖥸

You’ve gotten used to how lazy Mat and Tito are during their off days. They would rather stay at home and play endless video games with each other than spending it with something less dumb than their stupid Xbox. Luckily, today wasn’t like those days because you happened to have your free day as well. You all agreed to spend the evening binging the entire Fast and Furious franchise.

The three of you were cramped on the cloud couch. To put it in simply, you were sandwiched between two huge hockey players. Your back was leaning on Tito’s strong shoulders as it was laying just above your head. The huge bowl of half-eaten popcorn safely sits in between your middle, hugged by your stomach and your curled up legs, your sock-covered feet brushing against Mat’s thighs innocently. Almost as innocent as how you ignore Mathew’s hands creeping underneath the thick wool covering your body.

Alarmed at how dangerously close Mat’s creeping palm was to your inner thigh, you shot him a warning look which was, as expected, answered by a defensive, and seemingly harmless “What?” look on his face. You roll your eyes, cautious as to not make any sharp movements for the benefit of Tito. You shift your position, angling your body away from Mathew and towards the direction of the screen instead. You let your body sink in your best friend’s shoulder, clueless that your movement had just given Mat the exact opening he was hoping for.

With wide eyes, you give Mat’s thigh a firm nudge as carefully as you can, “Are you being serious right now?” you mouthed. Mat stifles a smirk and moves his hand away, keeping it to himself. You try turning your attention back to the television but somehow, Mathew’s actions left your mind wondering what he was about to do next.

Gently, you stir back to your original position, propping yourself from leaning against Tito.

“Hey, could you please fill this up for me?” you ask him nicely. Thankfully, Anthony reaches out for the bowl without letting his eyes break off the screen. “Thanks, Beau.” you add the moment he starts walking towards the kitchen.

“Why’d you stop?” you cautiously whisper, asking Mathew who was surprised by your sudden inquiry.

“I thought you didn’t want me to.” he answers on the same level of your tone, putting his hand back on your shin. The warmth of his palm sends a familiar sensation down your region.

Looking back at the archway leading to the kitchen, you quietly tell him, “I asked if you’re being serious. I never said no.”

Your candidness was met by Mathew’s widening smile, incapable of stopping himself from biting his lower lip, finding your bluntness quite adorable. “Be quiet.” he mutters as he clears his throat, eyeing Tito who was just returning from the kitchen holding a bowl full of popcorn fresh from the microwave.

“Thank you.” you say the moment Anthony hands you the bowl. You scootch over, making you a lot closer to Mat. Tito places his arm back over the couch, allowing extra space for you. Once you got yourself in a position comfortable enough to last for the remaining half of the movie, your mind flies away, briefly forgetting the exchange you and Mathew just had.

It was not even a full minute when you feel Mat’s very much capable hand start creeping underneath the thick cloth again. You swallow a giant lump in your throat, your senses already heightened just by the mere contact of his rough and calloused hand on your skin.

You were wearing a pair of sweat shorts, the kind that were loose enough to let Mat maneuver his way deeper down your thighs so effortlessly. You steal quick glances towards his way but to no avail, Mat’s eyes were nowhere else other than the screen. His fingers, however, told quite a different story.

You did the exact thing as him and put your sole focus on the movie. The sound of Anthony’s breathing was a good reminder to not let anything slip off of you unconsciously, especially now that Mat’s long fingers were inching its way to the thin fabric covered by your night wear.

Mat begins to brush his middle finger over your delicates. You bury a part of your face underneath the thick cloth whilst your eyes are still pinned on the screen. The scene where Dom goes rogue plays and the light of the television flashes before your eyes.

You tried to listen to Tito when he tells you about that time you went to the movies to see the film, trying to space out from Mat’s finger drawing idle circles on the thin fabric of your underwear, easing you just right, evidently taking his time fondling in between your clothed lips.

When he feels your moistness on his skin, Mat sophisticatedly slides a finger in your underwear just so he could feel the wetness of your folds.

You on the one hand, keep your face hidden under the only light flashing from the screen. You manage to choke down your whimpers and instead lean your force towards the bowl you’re holding. However, you fail to stifle a gasp when Mat slides a finger inside you, making you stir just enough to stop your sudden movement from being unnoticed by Beauvillier.

“You okay?” he asks, a concerned tone embracing his voice. You meekly nod, saying that you were just too caught up watching the film. He then takes his attention back, pretty much like the grinning Mathew sitting on the other end.

You shoot a knowing look when you meet Mat’s irises. He casually plays it off just as he remains busy on his own, his fingers curling inside you with ease, pumping in and out at a slow pace, not wanting to let any of his movements show on the surface of your blanket. As Mat continues pleasuring you, you gather all your strength to stay still and calm your breathing. To no prevail however, knowing how good of a fucker Mat was, you knew you won’t be able to hold it in longer than you’re supposed to.

Your heart almost beats right out your chest when Anthony’s phone starts to ring. You prop yourself up, causing Mat’s finger to do just the same inside you. You shut your eyes at the feeling and chose to clear your throat.

Anthony takes his phone and looks at the two of you, “I need to take this. Just watch the movie without me.” he says, already standing to head for the balcony at the other side of the room. You sigh in relief, letting yourself fall back on where Tito used to sit, allowing more space for Mat’s miraculous fingers.

He adjusts his seat, cautiously looking back after Tito’s track just to make sure he was no longer near the two of you. He looks at you, attention faltering from the screen as he slides another finger inside you.

“Don’t make a sound. Stay still.” he orders, pumping his way in just as he glides his thumb to massage your clit. Your hand takes rest on your forehead, your eyes closed at every pleasure thrown your way, almost forgetting that you were holding a bowl full of finger food on your stomach. Mat must’ve caught on and ensured no unnecessary noises would make Anthony come back just yet when he takes the bowl off your middle to set it down the coffee table.

“Fucking hell, Mat.” you can’t help but moan, arching your back once you feel your arousal come close.

“Do it, y/n. Come on my fingers.” he growls in a low register, moving his way into hitting the spot at just the right speed, not wanting to prolong your misery any longer.

You reach for his hands, your grip on him tighter than ever. Mat feels you come around his finger, eyes pinned on your spent up state harder than it was when the two of you were still watching the movie. When he feels your pulsating core starts to die down, he slips his fingers out your slit, eventually taking it in his mouth to suck your far too addicting juices.

You fix yourself up, eyeing Tito who had just ended his call. Mat looks at you, quite proud of himself.

“At least your fingers make up for what that pretty mouth can’t.” you say with a taunting smirk before standing up to get yourself a glass of water just as Beau finally comes back from the balcony, leaving Mathew with his mouth slightly agape and without a doubt dumbfounded.

𖥸

It was an hour before midnight but the house was already asleep. The boys had to call the night early because of the morning practice they have first thing tomorrow. But you still had some energy left so you figured drawing yourself a calming bath would help soothe your mind and maybe even up the chances of having yourself a well-deserved good night’s sleep.

Now that you’re feeling better and getting ready for bed, your bathrobe hugs your body whilst you finish off your night routine so you could finally dip into the comfort of your sheets, the cream white duvet calling onto you as you picture yourself dozing off for the night.

The strides you were just making out of your bathroom were put into a stop by how your door sprung open wildly, revealing one troubled Mathew Barzal entering your room almost a little too carelessly.

“What the hell did you mean my mouth can’t?!” he questions at once, hissing. When he realizes the sudden rise in his voice, (which has also startled you in the process), Mathew immediately looks back just to make sure that Anthony was in his room, or far enough to hear. He shuts the door behind him before he finally turns his attention back to you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you ask him, putting both your hands on your hips, your body covered by nothing else but a bathrobe.

“The thing you said back in the living room, my mouth can’t what? What the hell did that suppose to mean??” Mat roars like a child’s impending tantrum was about to come. You avert his gaze for a moment, scratching your temple. You couldn’t believe something you’ve said stuck to him. Not that he’d ever do anything about it. Something you most absolutely doubt.

“If you had to come here to ask me that, I’m pretty sure you already got what I meant.” you say, walking towards your bed as you get the bottle of your vanilla scented lotion from your bedside table.

“But all those times it looked like you were having a good time?” he speaks, voice in a lower register as if he was talking to himself all along.

“I was faking it Mat.” you finish off applying lotion on your legs, spreading the remaining on your hands. You met Mat’s gaze and saw that you might’ve tipped him off a little for there was a faint hurt in his eyes.

“You were faking it?” he repeats in a quiet voice.

“You’re still good in bed, buddy.” you assure him with a smile yet to no prevail, Mat didn’t seem to buy any of what you said thinking that it was just a decent effort to save his ego already plummeting to the pit of his own embarrassment.

“How many times have you been faking it?” he asks the moment he gathers his thoughts, his mind circling on the fact that all throughout this time he wasn’t able to get you off.

“You’ve only had the chance to do it twice. So… just those two.” you answer honestly.

Mathew, who was utterly clueless to what was going on didn’t know how to react to such bluntness. He tried to mutter a few words but he was speechless. All this time, he thought he was good at something he obviously wasn’t. And being told something as morally immobilizing as that shocks him to his very core. The horror of all the girls he’s slept with, walking out of his apartment unsatisfied befalls on him.

“You should’ve told me, otherwise this whole setup won’t make any sense, y/n. I thought you said we shouldn’t lie?” he questions, evidently disappointed in himself.

“Look,” you stop, tapping on the side of the bed to have a proper conversation. When Mat finally sits beside you, you continue, “I didn’t think it mattered. And no offense but we both know you’re such a sore loser. I didn’t know how you would react. And I definitely didn’t want to deal with any of the messy stuff just to feed your ego.”

“For your information, I’m a thick faced motherfucker, you should’ve known that by now. This thing between us is going to be complicated if you’ll tiptoe your way around it just to spare my feelings.” he says with certainty, a definitive tone accentuated by how intense he was now looking at your face, still glowing from your night care routine.

“Is there something I don’t do?” he adds, “Or is it something that I should stop doing?”

“Fine. If you really wanna talk about this I’ll tell you.” you angle yourself facing him and Mat does the same, “You’re not entirely bad. You do know your way around. It’s just that— you’re trying a little too hard and it gets really overwhelming at times. And mind you, it isn’t even the good kind,”

“Show me.” Mat cuts you before you could grab the chance to continue, stopping you mid sentence, causing you to stumble on a few words. “What?”

“I won’t leave this room knowing I can’t get you off.” he says, and just like that, Mathew meets your lips with an all too hungry mouth eager to make you come for him even if it takes having to have endless runs at it.

Your body achingly responds to every bit of Mathew’s kisses whilst you let him run the course. His touches are tantalizing, urging you to come near him. He takes you in his arms, one fondling on your robe to pull it free from your body, the other tugging lightly on your hair just as he begins to move his weight on top of you.

“Tell me what you want.” Mat breathes the moment he breaks away, his mouth now travelling down the skin where your shoulder meets your neck, leaving faint bites, nibbling on it just before he makes his way down to fondle on your breasts.

You answer him with a muffled moan when he takes your lips yet again. Mat’s irises unwaveringly gazes on your buck nakedness, your scent just enough to take over his senses. You feel the roughness of his hands graze all over your skin. Pinching on one of your buds just before it travels down your thighs, staying out of the place where he knew you needed him most. You feel him in every inch of your skin but there.

But just as you want him more, Mat purposely leaves it out of his hold. You begin to realize how much you must’ve underestimated what this forward could do. His hands were everything and you couldn’t even put into words how much you need him down there.

“Mat…” you call out his name, groaning. His featherlight touches flowed smoothly on your inner thigh, grazing just your lips but even that was more than enough to tell him how wet you already were for him.

He begins to leave wet kisses in between your breasts down to your stomach. Kisses that eventually made their way to your thighs as he inched his way to your core, the sloppy noise he makes sounds so beautiful in your ears. You look down on Mat trying to compose yourself under all the breathing he’s subtly passing your middle.

“What do you want?” Mat asks again, this time his doe eyes meeting yours, clouded with lust and desire. You buck your hips upward in an effort to meet his mouth but Mat was rather quick to put you back in your place when he cages your hips with his capable arm.

“Use your words, y/n.” he orders, one that has effortlessly made you oblige. You wanted to feel him more than anything else and if that meant submitting to Mat this time, you know full well you’d gladly break before him.

“I want you to get me off.” you surrender, signaling him to take the plunge. Once he did, you let out a whimper at his touch, almost forgetting that Mathew was probably doing this so he could eat out his future girl right.

“Don’t rush.” you breathed as you guided him, “Stay slow and steady.”

Mathew’s eyes never left yours even when you had to look away when you let your head fall back on your sheets with how well he was moving with everything you say.

“Mathew…” you moan, reaching for his hair to take him closer to your throbbing core, “Go on circles, please.”

Mat was obedient and followed your every command. Unlike the times he’s spent trying to pleasure you with his mouth, tonight was a time where he actually listened and gave you exactly what you wanted, exactly how you want it.

Mat didn’t have to do anything else for when he started to slip into your cunt and fuck you with his tongue, you going insane was more than enough to let him know that he was doing it right. He watched you fall before him, your chest heaving, your breathing rapid as if there wasn’t enough air for you to breathe. He entwines both his fingers atop your abdomen, the sound of you calling his name like a prayer doing all kinds of wonders on his end.

You meet his eyes yet again just to see that it never left. Mat looked at you darker than ever before and for once, you feel a firm tug in your stomach you just weren’t ready to acknowledge and care for. As he takes time with his final strokes, knowing that you were close, Mat pulls away, thinking about the one thing he knows will redeem himself.

“Turn around.” he orders with a grim voice. You were in dire need of an orgasm to even care about how he’s the one ordering you. You gladly oblige to his every whim and turned to your belly, your ass perked up so perfectly for him.

He lets your robe fall just above your back, revealing more of your skin for him to enjoy. He takes no second to waste and kneels before your already swollen pussy. Needy and very much heated for him.

Mat’s hands spread your cheeks before he takes you in his mouth once again, letting himself drown in your juices glinting under his all too heavy gaze.

“Oh, god.” you whine, feeling Mat’s grin behind you as you dig into your sheets while your legs begin to shake at your incoming orgasm. “Mat, please.” you call out in a whimper, pushing your ass back further his face.

Mat gladly takes the challenge but maintains at the pace you wanted. As he feels your pussy flutter in his mouth, he deepens it into yours to finally pour you with nothing else but ecstasy and ecstasy alone.

His face was filled with nothing but your juices once he pulled away, leaving you breathless and still caught up on meeting your high. He stands, a hand gripping on one of your cheeks whilst he admires the art that is: your all too spent pussy.

“Next time you lie, you won’t get to fake it at all.” he warns with a firm yet definitive voice masked as a taunting remark.

Mat looks at your still throbbing pussy, eyes lustful and dark. As much as he craved for the inkling fire resting in his loins, it was already past midnight and he had self-discipline stronger than anyone else’s. He couldn’t afford any more scolding from Anders the next morning.

So, even when he wanted nothing but to fuck you right then and there, he lets his hand send a message he certainly wants you to remember instead. One that has left a faint yet stinging mark on your skin. Your legs were practically still wobbling when he finally leaves for the door, this time fueled with the purpose of being the one leaving you dumbfounded in your own post-orgasm shame.

Perhaps, even wanting and more.

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #mat barzal smut #nhl smut #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #hockey smut #letters to barzy #barzzal imagines

482 notes · View notes

starks-hero · 4 years ago

Text

His Last Vow

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Request: Hey! I just adore your writings, thank you for existing. ❤ I watched Sherlock 4x01 yesterday, and I just can't get over what happened there. I'm truly afraid what will happen next... So I thought if you could write a fic about this episode. I mean something like this: after all what happened in the Aquarium, S. goes home to Y/N, his girlfriend, totally fallen apart, trembling, then he starts like... and destroying everything at home, and Y/N tries to soothe him, crying, fluff etc. THANK YOUUU <3 - anonymous

Summary: You can't stop Sherlock from falling apart, but you can certainly help pick up the pieces.

Word Count: 1,725

Warnings: lots of angst with some compensating fluff, a very brief mention of Sherlock's drug use, Spoilers for 4x01

“Come on, pick up!” You yelled as Sherlock's phone once again went straight to voicemail. You'd been trying to get through to him for over an hour and your worry was slowly melting into frustration.

It had been a few hours since he'd left the flat to ‘think without any distractions’, but you didn't take into account that he'd be gone this long. You knew this case meant more to him than most, especially considering it concerned Mary, which made you all the more worried.

You tried calling him once more, but when you were greeted with the same blunt voicemail, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

Grabbing your coat, you pulled Mary's number up on your phone. You attempted to calm your anxious mind by telling yourself that Sherlock had probably just dragged John off on some side case. And if anyone was going to know where the boys were, it was Mary.

Just as you pressed ‘call’ and opened the door to leave, you were greeted by the familiar sound of footsteps on the stairs. You sighed in relief.

“Where have you been? I was starting to get-,” Your voice died down in your throat when Sherlock entered the flat.

His chest was heaving and his body trembled, his cheeks were stained with tears and his eyes resembled those of a scared child. He looked completely distraught.

“Sherlock?” Your voice was timid as he entered the flat. You studied him carefully before reaching out for his hand. You stopped a few inches short. Sherlock's gloved hand, along with the once white sleeve of his shirt was now stained in a dark crimson red. Your heart fell out of your chest when you realised what it was. Blood.

“Sherlock,” your voice wavered. “What happened?”

You didn't receive a reply. Sherlock's back was to you, but you could still clearly see his struggle to breathe as his shoulders tensed. He pulled off his gloves slowly, hands shaking.

The room was deathly quiet. And then it wasn't. Whatever had happened, whatever Sherlock was feeling, whatever he had pent up inside came out all at once in a blind rage.

One sweep of his arm sent several books and heaps of paper flying from the desk, he brought his fist down on the tables top so hard you swore you heard the wood splinter. Several more books were pulled from the bookcase and not even the sentiment Sherlock held for his skull was enough to stop the youngest Holmes from picking up the human remain and chucking it across the room. His rage continued to the kitchen as the table was completely overturned, any unfortunate glass or cutlery that had been left on its surface shattering into ceramic shards as they met the cold floor. One of the cupboards was almost completely taken off its hinges. And through all of this, Sherlock cried.

You watched on in shock, frozen to the spot as you watched Sherlock destroy anything he came in contact with. No matter how much your mind yelled at you to do something, to move and comfort the man you loved, the horror kept you glued to the spot. Whatever had happened, had destroyed Sherlock entirely. You weren't entirely sure you'd be capable of dealing with it.

You were pulled from your frozen state as Sherlock turned his anger to the flat door. His fist connected with the wood. Once, twice, over and over. The timber was splintering and Sherlock's knuckles were bloodied, but he didn't stop. He just kept going, his strangled shouts tearing at your heart.

“Sherlock,” You approached him slowly but with unfaltering trust. Despite the violence you'd just witnessed unfold in the flat, you weren't afraid of Sherlock, not for a second.

“Hey, hey-,” Your hand brushed his shoulder but it didn't lessen his assault on the door. “Sherlock, stop it.”

Blood was flowing freely from his knuckles down his fingers in bright crimson lines.

“Stop it!”

Grabbing hold of his shoulder and forcibly pulling him away from the abused piece of wood. He struggled against you, attempting to push you away, but despite being taller and stronger than you, you managed to hold your ground against him. (The bloodied hand, sprained wrist and potentially broken fingers weren't playing in his favour.)

“Let me go!” Sherlock's tone was heart-wrenching, his voice hoarse from the shouting he'd done moments before. His vocal cords were spent. “Let me go!” He continued to struggle against you. His voice no longer resembled that of the stoic, detective you'd fallen for, but of a terrified child that had witnessed something they shouldn't have. “Let me-”

Sherlock's harrowing shouts broke into distressed sobs. He stopped fighting and allowed himself to collapse against you. The tears dampened your skin as Sherlock buried himself into the crook of your neck.

Sherlock's legs gave way and he was sent to the ground, you went with him. He clutched onto you for dear life, fingers clutching at your shoulders so tightly you could feel his nails digging into your skin. He was holding you so closely against him it was beginning to constrict your ability to breathe. But you didn't complain. You just kept running your hand through his hair and doing your best to soothe him.

You had never seen him in such a state. In fact, you'd never seen anyone in such a state. Everything you'd been through with Sherlock, the cases, the drugs, all of it and you'd never seen an outburst that could even begin to compare to the magnitude of the one you'd just witnessed.

“Sherlock,” you managed after a while, your own voice trembling slightly. “What happened?”

His voice wavered, sobs wracking his body. You ran your hand through his hair again.

“Hey, look at me,” your hand gently caressed his cheek and wiped away stray tears, your thumb catching them as they continued to fall. “It's okay, whatever happened, it's okay. Just talk to me, Sherlock.” You masterfully hid your worry beneath a gentle tone as you urged him to continue.

Sherlock swallowed down a rising sob and managed to choke out a somewhat coherent answer.

“Mary,” he cried. “She's dead.”

Your heart stopped beating for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. Tears formed in your eyes as the world shattered around you at the revelation. When you finally exhaled, reality hit.

Sherlock broke again and this time, you broke with him.

You cried into Sherlock's shoulder. You cried for Mary, your best friend. You cried for John, who'd lost his wife and for little Rosie, who'd lost her mother. You weren't quite sure just how long you spent weeping, all you could hear was the same two words playing on repeat in your mind. ‘She’s dead’.

You were only pulled back to what was left of your reality by the sound of Sherlock's distraught voice.

“It's-It's my fault!” Sherlock cried and you swore you'd never heard anyone sound so broken. “I killed her.”

“Sherlock,” you tried, expression falling when he flinched away from your touch. “Sherlock, please.” You carefully slipped your hand into his and he grasped onto it like a lifeline. “Listen to me. You didn't kill her. Mary, she-” you couldn't find the words to finish.

You knew Sherlock was lying, you may not have known the whole story yet but you knew Sherlock hadn't killed Mary. But he was blaming himself, and you couldn't allow him carry that kind of weight.

“It's going to be okay, I promise. We'll- we'll figure it out.”

You knew your words were empty. Mary was dead. The life you'd known yesterday was gone. It wasn't going to be okay, not for a long time if ever. But you needed to say something, anything, to help ease the heartache you were both feeling. You had to be strong, for him.

“I promised,” Sherlock's voice had been reduced to a whimper. “I- I promised I'd keep her safe.”

Having no other empty promises to offer, you did the only thing your distressed mind would allow. You pulled Sherlock against you and held him close. He sobbed into your shoulder, completely inconsolable.

“It's okay,” you comforted, holding the pieces together as Sherlock broke in your arms. “It's okay, I'm here.”

You glanced around the wreckage of the flat. Both your belongings were strewn along the floor, mostly in pieces. But none of that mattered, not now. At the moment there was only one broken thing you were focused on fixing.

Wordlessly, you stood. Sherlock's hold on you tightened, almost as if he feared you were leaving him. But a comforting hand grasping his own eased his worries. You pulled him to his feet and together, navigated across the treacherous kitchen floor that was covered in broken glass.

You pulled the first aid kit from the cupboard and Sherlock caught on, obediently seating himself in one of the chairs that had remained standing during his outburst.

Your fingers gently caught Sherlock's wrist and drew his hand close to you. First, you washed away the blood and then pressed the disinfectant wipe to his knuckles. Sherlock didn't react.

You sniffled as you worked, wiping at your eyes. Sherlock made no comment, his own tears were yet to stop. Focusing on Sherlock's injury and the task at hand was currently the only thing stopping you from breaking again.

You dried the wound and bandaged it up, not that it was necessarily needed, but it was something to focus on.

When you finished tending to the injury, you didn't let go of Sherlock's hand. You sat together for a moment, the silence deafening.

You glanced at him through blurred vision. His eyes reflected what you were both feeling. You were both broken. Mary, your best friend, was gone and the family you'd both found had been torn apart.

Sherlock pulled you into him, his strong hold suggesting that he didn't plan on letting go anytime soon. You held him just as tightly.

You sat together amidst the wreckage, mourning both Mary and the life you'd both had just hours earlier. You'd both lost your best friend and you knew the fallout would be unimaginable. But for now, you had each other, and you hoped that would be enough to make it through what was to come.

~~~~~~

Forever tag list: @miraclesoflove @bakerstreethound @kealohilani-tepise

Sherlock tag list: @fanfictionsilove @quentawewe @andreasworlsboring101 @starrykitn @doozywoozy @xxinvisiblexx @the-worst-critic @Jellyfishbeansontoast @Xhz17x

#bbc sherlock x reader #sherlock x reader #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #sherlock x you #sherlock imagine #sherlock x y/n #sherlock holmes x you #Sherlock Holmes fanfiction #bbc sherlock fic #bbc sherlock #Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlock fanfiction #bbc sherlock imagine #sherlock fanfic #sherlock x reader angst #his last vow #4x01

586 notes · View notes

tokoyamisstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Dark Side Of The Moon Ch. 2 - Dark! Loki x Reader

Chapter 2: “On The Run”

Chapter Summary: Even though you can’t help feeling drawn to the lunatic that looks like your deceased lover, you try to surpress your feelings and flee to find your friends.

Warnings: Loki is fucking crazy, Violence, Torture, Jotun! Loki, Mentions of Death, Abuse, Unhealthy Relationship, Mentions of Rape

Words: 3360

[Story Masterlist]

Masterlist to my other works right ->Here<-

“And the shark, it has tears,

And they run down its face.

But the shark lives in the water -

So the teardrops one can’t see.”

- Rammstein - Haifisch

Taglist: @winterglcw @commonintrest @emmojoy @satansbra @just-someone-who-likes-to-write

“She died through my hands.”

That sentence replayed over and over in your head, forming a continuous loop as you silently formed those words with your own lips.

“It’s not him!” you called out to yourself, since your reason had seemingly disappeared ever since you first saw the person that was a perfect copy of the man you once loved.

You were rolling around on the bare floor, shivering as you softly punched your head to not get lost in thought again. The emperor didn’t even have the basic decency to give you any clothes back, only having the Citauri throw you into an old dungeon to keep you prisoner - or whatever he’d plan to do with you.

That man was so different of your Loki.

And the timeline both of you were currently in had exceeded your worst expectations, making you wonder if fate just wanted to torment you.

In this universe, Thanos never even got so far as to collect all of the Infinity Stones. Loki Laufeyson had won the battle of New York and took over this world, then somehow double-crossed and killed the Titan. So right now, he possessed the power of the Tesseract, as well as the Cascet of Ancient Winters. For what reason he kept that Jotun relic was unknown, probably out of nostalgic sentiment you assumed.

Afterwards, the God of Mischief had killed his brother Thor in bad blood, as well as torturing Natasha - the exact way he threatened her back in your world, when he was in his cell. Clint was still his servant, as it seemed. You had seen him when they took you to his cell.

He couldn’t get rid of all the Avengers, however - even though their current location was unknown. They were in hiding for many years now, probably trying to get their hands on the other Infinity Stones.

Also noticeable was the fact that this universe had neither Hela, nor Captain Marvel - so one good and one bad thing to compensate for each other. Not that they’d be a match for Loki in his current form anyway...

And there was no Dr. Strange on this version of Earth, your last bit hope to escape disappearing as you learned about this fact.

That much was all you had learned by now, mainly through tricking and manipulating some of your guards into giving you information.

All in all, you only knew for sure was that this world’s Loki was a terribly trong, murderous sociopath, intoxicated by power and loneliness.

And you had become the focus of the little emotion left in him.

It was hard trying to surpress all the voices and memory submerging in your mind. So there was nothing left for you except for rolling up into a ball, lying on the cold floor as you prepared to be washed over with sadness and guilt once again.

_____

“Would you help me recieve the greatest honor by becoming mine and mine only, Lady Y/N?”

How could you ever forget this moment?

Back on the Asgardian refugee ship, your Loki had asked you that very question, now popping up in your mind once again.

Every detail was still as bright as daylight, preserved deep into your heart.

You clearly remembered the small, green box he had summoned out of thin air, presenting you a plain but still incredibly beautiful ring. The golden piece of jewlery formed a snake eating itself - a symbol of infinity and wholeness.

It was just his way of being thoughtful.

“I-I prepared this a while go, to be precize...but I never thought of being worthy” he had stammered and you found yourself speechless, admiring that very scene playing in front of your eyes. “A-Anyway, after all that happened, I realized that all moments I spent happy, were when I was with you. I don’t want to lose you again, Y/N! And I feared, well...that it might be too late to ask someday.”

It was most unjust that this most blissful moment would be interrupted by a great rumbling shaking through the whole spaceship - and even before Thor would crash Loki’s proposal, both of you were aware just what kind of danger you would have to face soon:

Thanos.

Your numbers had already been decimated by Ragnarok, all that’s left being some civilian refugees, injured and traumatized. The only ones capable of fighting left were Loki, Thor, Heimdall, you and the Hulk.

Yet all of your struggles were to no avail, only able to watch and scream and bag at the Titan, so he’d at least spare those innocent lives as he mercilessly slaughtered woman and children alike.

“Fucking monster!” Pulling out a gun, your mind went completely blank as you gave it some last, desperate attempt to save or avenge just anyone.

No bullet would even come close enough to pierce his skin, as Ebony Maw would deflect them to hit yourself and people close to you. “I’m not the only one you should see responsible for this outcome” Thanos scoffed.

“What do you mea-” Your voice got swallowed by a pained groan as you saw Loki, kneeling in front of Thanos and revealing the one thing he was after:

The Tesseract.

“You......took it?!?” The only thing managing to escape your throat was a high-pitched yell as Loki’s face contorted in disappointment and regret - just now realizing that he had put you all in danger.

They would’ve never went after you if it wasn’t for him. He had doomed his race, failed you and what was left of his family.

“How could you put us all in danger?! I thought you had changed! You swore it with your life, Loki! That you loved me more than you desired power!”

No answer.

Instead, the god would prepare one of his speeches, directing words of undying fidelity at Thanos and his arms. And even though it was meant to be lies, a play to make the threat feel save, every single word hit your heart like knives.

“How could I ever marry someone like you?!” feeling as if Loki most recent, selfish act was suffocating you, you could only whisper - yet he understood very clearly, the facade dropping in an instant. “I-I hate you...traitor...”

If only you knew that those would be the last words you’d ever direct at him...

Loki materializes a dagger, desperately trying to make up for his biggest mistake yet, and at least save you, the light of his cursed existence, and the only thing he had ever done in his life full of wrongs.

But Thanos looked right through the charade from the very beginning, using the stones to trap Loki in their hold - and then, grabbing the god’s throat.

“You have what you want, Thanos!” Thor tried to bargain, “There’s even less than half of my race left. Please, just let us go!”

“Oh, I will” he spoke stony, then shifting his attention to the god in his hands. “But first, I’ll do you a favor and erase that disgraceful pest all of you were too weak to take care of.”

As he was struggling for air, gasping uncontrollably as he tried to free his neck from the Giant, Loki’s glare wandered to you - and when your eyes met, both of your hearts skipped a beat.

He smiled. In the face of death, the last thing he wanted you to remember was the good things after all.

And seeing the ring on your finger, how couldn’t he? Loki knew you were about to say yes - and knowing this was more than enough for someone like him.

After all, the God of Mischief was used to happiness being taken away from him as soon as he thought it to be okay to open up to someone.

But you were safe. That’s all that counted for him!

It was like his eyes were telling you “It’s gonna be alright. I’m sorry, Y/N...I love you.”

You don’t remember much after that, having a mental breakdown as you had to watch the love of your life perish - and forever thinking about how you had turned him down just seconds before.

A part of you had died with him back then.

_____

The creaking sound of the cell’s door made you jump from your dream - but the person which entered was one you had never seen before.

A monster.

It’s silhouette very much resembled Loki, yet his skin was painted in a dark shade of blue, with thin linings carved across his whole body. He had fangs and even horns coming out of his temple to add at that.

The beast’s eyes were shining in a threatening red, glistering contrastful in the dark hallway. But the worst were those black irises, absent of any form of compassion - there seemed to be only rage, confusion and hate.

“Fuck!” you screamed, terrified and fearing for your life. Shuffling until your back hit the wall of a corner of the room, you defendingly put your arms in front of yourself. “Go away! Don’t to-ouch me!”

Loki cleared his voice as he put the Casket away, not making any efforts to revert his outer appearance back to ‘normal’. He had admired it on his way to your cell, like he’d do many times a day when he was reminiscing about the day he learned about his heritage...

...and how he had killed Odin, his adoptive father, with that very relic, afterwards clearing the universe of that despiseful race of the Jotunn - making him the last of his kind.

“Oh my” a dark voice finally declared, “Seems like ‘your’ Loki never dared to show you his true form. Pathetic.”

No, that wasn’t completely true. Your lover had at least told you back then. But when did you ever have the time to talk things over and heal, being dragged from one fight to another?!

The Jotunn felt great joy as he towered over you, gleefully watching your naked body cowering to his knees, covered in goosebumps and shaking heavily. Your breath was clearly visible while you tried to cover your shame as best as you could, wary glare never leaving the abomination that was just lurking right in front of you.

“Wha- OUCH!” you hissed as the Frost Giant took ahold of your wrist, monitoring the pain spreading across your face as his touch would frostburn any skin he was touching with ease.

Loki grinned menacingly as he let go off of you, admiring his handywork as the first layer of your skin had already died, crumbling away to reveal your pink flesh.

“Oh, how I missed that” he explained, much to your surprise ripping a piece of his own clothing apart to cover the wound with it. “Your kind is so easily broken. It’s always fascinating to watch.”

“Just kill me already, you freak!”

Well, Loki had in fact spent hours after hours thinking about how to handle you, and yet he couldn’t decide. Obviously he would’ve killed you right away if it was otherwise, but he still had a soft spot for you somewhere deep in his heart, after all.

And it upset him more than he’d ever admit. So he tried to assert his dominance, to ease the feeling of weakness and loss of control.

“I’m only doing you a favor, woman.” The god would touch your cheek, making you flinch away - but this time, it wouldn’t hurt. Never would he dare to scar this most beautiful face!

“The man you loved was just the same as me, yet it seemed he wasn’t completely honest with you. What you are seeing right now is the form of a Frost Giant...the monstrosity you chose to love.”

“L-Loki…”

It was no surprise that he saw tears filling the rim of your eyes - yet out of a whim, you pulled your arms around his neck, tears wetting his robe. He gasped, unable to act in any way as he stiffened in the pose.

That was by far not the reaction he had been expecting - and he surprised you as well. You had thought him to instantly shove you away, beat you agaib or even bite - but he just kneeled there, not daring to make a move.

"Why?” Now his voice was much softer, pained even. “I’m a monster. I hurt you. So why?”

“I’m so sorry” you whimpered, words being interrupted by heavy sobbing. “I try to fight it, I really do. But I just can’t, I-I”

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“How could I be? It’s you, Loki...no matter what you look like.” Eventually, you’d face him again, wiping the tears out of your face when for another moment, you made yourself forget that this was a completely different person. “I was just surprised, that’s all. Letting me see this form out of nowhere...”

“Y/N, I’m not the same as him” he retorted, knowing very well what it’s like to lose oneself in daydreams and illusions to ease the pain of loss. His sight wandered around the room instead of your face, stating “I did horrendous things, dear. Tormented and killed countless. It’s unforgiveable.”

“So did he” you stated, even though you knew those two Loki’s couldn’t be compared. “And you should already know: I feel dead inside, ever since he died.”

“You really loved him, didn’t you?” When you nodded confidently, Loki sighed ashamed, reluctantly touching your wrist again. A warm magic would flow through you, healing the wound in no time. “I wish she had felt the same for me...”

For a while, both of you were plainly sitting in uncomfortable silence, with Loki even lending you his cloak to warm yourself up.

“It’s not him” you told yourself once again. “It’s not him. It’s not him. IT’S NOT HIM!!! That man is dangerous and instable. He can’t be trusted!”

And then, finally, you dared asking, cutting through the thick air:

“What exactly happened to me, in this world?”

Loki’s face contorted in agony, rubbing his face as if in deep pain. “Is this really necessary? I already told you. She died because of me.”

“More details would be nice” you retorted bluntly, not really caring if he was to have a violent outburst again. Curiosity got the better of you at that moment.

The emperor’s voice was low and husky, and just now you realized how damn tired he looked - with dark rings under his eyes, and more pale than you had ever remembered him.

The weight of his sins sure had taken a stroll on that sensitive man.

"I saw the ring” he uttered deeply affected, “That’s something I could only dream of. Thinking about it, I think she never really loved me in the first place. Or maybe she just grew tired of my lies. Understandable, I have to admit...”

“Yes, it was quite the opposite, even” he continued after a long, strained breath of his. “She hated me. Joined the Avengers and tried to kill me, several times. Only years later I learned about the truth: Already far in the past, back on Asgard, she betrayed me. After I fell off the Bifrost, she thought myself dead - and consoled herself by bedding my brother. I had to kill him, I-I-I just had to!”

Loki’s hands were shaking so frantically you could feel it from over there, mad eyes darting over your physique to take in your reaction. “After they finally lost, I took her prisoner. Seven months of trying to make her mine, no matter the methods. Mind-controlling her would not be satisfying. So I tortured her, played games with her sanity, and- I’d rather not speak about how else I violated her.”

“You, wha-” Now you were the one shivering in horrid anticipation, “You raped me...?”

No answer. Instead he just finished this disastrous story.

“One day, I went to her cell like I always did. I hoped once her mind was broken she’d stop struggling to be mine. But she never did. You Y/N’s are quite the fighters, as it seems.”

“Wha- wwhat happened to me...I mean, ‘her’?”

A loud whine escaped his vocal cords as he hit the wall right next to your face, making you suck in a pained breath.

“She used her chains to hang herself. There was nothing I could do. Ever since then I knew I’m cursed to inflict pain on anything I hold dear.”

"D-Don’t give me that self-pitying bullshit” you wanted to shout at his face - but the cramping in your heart as well as the hyperventillation made talking impossible.

How could one do something like that to a person they claimed to love?!

“Go” you whimpered, already shuffling away from him and he could hear anguish and fear drop out of every vocal, and he realized you were having a panic attack. “Please!”

Loki closed his eyes, letting out one last, deep sigh. He knew he owed you that much.

“Very well.”

That whole night, you spent crying and screaming to your hearts avail, unable to process your current situation and newfound knowledge.

So that would be your life from now on? Being hurt mentally and physically, frostburnt and hurt and violated against your will - all while looking at a face that remembered you of happier days?

Never!

Things were just like that evil Loki said: You are a fighter!

And if you couldn’t help that crazy man, you would at least help yourself! The Avengers are still out there, somewhere. You needed to escape and help them!

How could you have been so blind all those years?

Loki - your Loki - would have never wanted to you give up. He’d want you to survive and live your life to it’s fullest, trying to make the best out of everything you’ve got.

Just like he always did. That much you had learned from him.

“I’m sorry, Loki. If I die, I can’t even remember you...I love you…”

Breaking out succeeded faster than you could ever think it would take - because when you’d finally get out of your fetal courl and wandered across the cell, you realized Loki didn’t properly close the heavy steel door back when he rushed away from you.

“It’s not him. There’s no helping that man. I have to find my friends, I-”

Still shocked and scared and traumatized, you didn’t even realize that someone was watching you, not even questioning that the hallways were oddly empty.

You sneaked out of an open window, bare feet feeling the morning dew as you shook away Lokis cloak and ran as fast as your feet could carry you.

There was it - the fence.

No one could tell you what kind of world would await you outside of that property as you swiftly avoided some guards, rushing through the all so beautiful garden.

But as soon as you reached out to climb the railing, you felt someone balling a fist in your hair, harshly holding you back and causing you to stumble and fall.

“I thought you to be different…” an all too familiar voice grumbled. Loki didn’t even want to hear any apology or excuse, kicking your guts so heavily that you had to throw up, cramping on the ground.

“Don’t you dare to run away ever again!” he now yelled furiously, "She tried it too...so damn.many.times…!”

But before you could even respond, he suddenly began to cry uncontrollably. “I thought you would stay. Do you think I like to do this?!”

His voice was laced with grief and regret, yet he kept on forming countless bruises on your body. “Why can’t you fucking love me, hel?!”

You didn’t know how long his violent crying fit lasted, with him weeping as he let off some steam on your helpless self.

There was no trace of the hurt, regretful man left you talked to in your cell earlier. After being finished, having reclaimed a fraction of composure, Loki pressed your face in between his hands, ripping on your mangled body to face him.

“Fate gifted me another chance to possess you, Y/N. And I will form you into a magnificent pet, I promise.”

_______

If you want to get on the taglist (or deleted from lmao) feel free to ask! ♡

Feedback is always appreciated!

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki x Y/N #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #Loki Friggason #God of Mischief #Loki / Reader #Loki / You #Marvel #Disney #Asgard #Midgard #Writing #Fanfiction #Self Insert #tw abuse #tw violence

86 notes · View notes

marcspectrr · 3 years ago

Text

A word or two on Kiara's mental health...

Before I attempt to summarize the 39 page slideshow living rent free in my brain, a preface! This will include spoilers for s2, as well as a few mentions of suicidal thoughts! Also. I love Kiara Carrera with all of my heart so if you're not a fan of her, you might wanna keep scrolling. If you don't vibe with her that's perfectly fine, but this post is heavy with Kiara appreciation, be warned, my respect for her runs deep. The choice is yours, of course, just understand that I'm writing this bc @yellowlaboratory among others have encouraged me to get it out there because it's all I've been thinking about since I watched s2. This is not to start anything.

(This is also not me hating on Pope because I genuinely like his character, he's just made some very questionable choices throughout the show, some I can forgive and some that still don't sit right with me.)

Deep breath, here we go.

It's no secret Kiara has been poorly handled by the writers and therefore the characters at times. We got little development in s1 compared to other main male characters, leaving us to fill in the gaps as far as her ambitions, motivations, family, overall interest in the boys, etc. While I do keep this in mind, I could rant about it for days so for this I'm going off of what we have as well as what's been implied.

Kiara didn't have the same upbringing as the boys but it's clear the Carrera's had/have their struggles. She's got her foot in both worlds, not quite 'rich' but not entirely 'poor', inevitably giving her a fragile sense of belonging and identity. 16 is a hard age even without societal pressures and growing up in a classist environment, but here is where we're assuming the boys come in. They give her a place to feel comfortable in her own skin, with shared interests and accepting her for who she is, which we know the kooks don't provide. Just being around them helps ease those deep insecurities, helps her form meaningful bonds. We weren't given an explicit scene where this was shown but over the course of the two seasons it's clear how she feels about them and what they do for her mentally.

Her relationship with the pogues, however, puts a rift between her and her parents. Mike and Anna clearly want what's best for Kie but it's also obvious they've struggled with her even before the pogues. Anna wants Kiara to have the things she never got growing up, breeding a disconnect since Kiara doesn't share in her mother's interests. This leads into my biggest problem with Kiara's arc in s2, which was how Anna and Mike were written.

Yes, Kiara didn't/doesn't treat them the best but it went both ways -- they all failed at communicating. Instead of finding a common ground and compensating for the things Kiara cares about, Anna shuts her down and ignores her, leaving her to feel like a problem rather than a person, further perpetuating even less healthy communication. Kiara even says in s2 that's why she doesn't like going home, because it always means walking into an argument and not feeling accepted.

I sorta expected a little more understanding from Anna considering her own background with pogues but instead it backfired. And Mike...he didn't contribute much at all. They could've all done better and need some work. Kiara could be more grateful and Anna and Mike are the parents, the adults, they need to make the space feel safe to talk. Kie didn't just wake up one day and decide to act out and keep her parents in the dark all the time, that stems from not feeling listened to when she does try and open up.

Expanding on this with...the whole Blue Ridge plot. Moment of silence for the show neglecting to acknowledge the academy, even though it clearly had a big impact on Kiara's life. In s1 we got a brief look into how her 'kook year' affected her and it was not good. More isolation, blurred identity, insecurity and this time suicidal thoughts, with no one to turn to for support, assuming she was not on good terms with her parents then either. I'm assuming this because for them to send her to the academy, hoping to give her better opportunities only for it to end with her wanting to cut her wrists, to then thinking the best option is to send her away again? At this point I hope they didn’t know how badly the academy affected her because sending her away a second time with that knowledge is such a hurtful and oblivious move.

Kiara already thinks her parents see her as a burden, hurting her sense of worth as is. I really wanted to like the Carrera's and I still feel like they genuinely love and care for Kie, I just need to see more communication maybe. And if they choose to include the Blue Ridge plot, which I'm leaning towards yes on that one, I hope it's handled somewhat well, preferably not a tool to create drama even though I know a lot of people want to see it be used that way. I'm very particular, I'm sorry I'm this way.

Things I've seen her being criticized for in s2 is her behavior. The thing that people have to remember is that she's 16 and teenagers are just not the best with navigating their emotions. She made questionable choices (the 'murderer' thing and 'abusing' Pope) but these are both things that fit the plot and her character. She was by no means the only one grieving so I don't know why she's being targeted for it (although I'm not surprised, the fandom treats her horribly). Some of her core characteristics are her high moral integrity as well as her headstrong belief in people and causes. She's never been one to make herself palatable for people and s2 shows a lot of this (calling out the Cameron's, going off in front of the court, etc). Even if it caused them problems and even if they are flaws, that doesn't make her an inherently intolerable character, it makes her realistic. She was not in a good place emotionally and it would've been wrong to shy away from depicting it any other way, especially in a show where the teenage experience is decently represented.

Now with the Pope thing. I think it was handled as well as it could've been considering the circumstances. It really should've never happened but to justify it, emotions are messy, relationships even messier and they were both spiraling at the end of s1. I don't agree with the way it started (why give Kie the line of literally telling him she wanted something different only to show them together next episode, I'm forever confused) but I'm not mad about how it ended. They were both in the wrong at times so only bringing up Kie's faults is just unfair.

I believe they both tried their best and even wanted to feel the right things but learned quickly that's not exactly how it works, which was how it was supposed to be shown. Not as this romanticized, idealistic healthy relationship but as one that has its bumps and was bred out of all the wrong things. All of their body language pointed towards this. Pope didn't deserve to be hurt but Kie clearly didn't intend for things to turn out how they did. She wasn't mentally comfortable enough for a relationship and I can appreciate them showing this in the ways the writers framed it. Even the conversation with Kie describing their night on the beach, I think it was perfect. It was awkward but it was honest, which is so important.

Overall, I think Kiara's gone through a lot mentally that the show could be better at exploring. It doesn't have to be big, obvious lingering shots, they can be subtle and still mean so much to people who relate to her. Seeing someone on screen grapple with real life struggles (even if the show walks a painfully fine line as far as realism), it means a lot. Especially when mental health (more prominent than ever) is so rarely portrayed to translate in any significant way in media now. It's definitely something I would love to see get more time and effort so until then, just know I'll be manifesting the screen time Kiara Carrera deserves.

#obx #outer banks #obx s2 #outer banks season 2 #kiara carrera #whoever read this whole thing kudos to you #i also hate the tumblr app for posting it twice before it was finished :)#i have MANY thoughts on kie #as well as the rest of the pogues arcs in s2 #its a curse to have this many opinions agshdjf #obx rants #i guess?

32 notes · View notes

megalony · 5 years ago

Text

When she’s better

This is my first Harry Styles imagine that I hope everyone is going to like, any feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Masterlist

Summary: Harry and (Y/n) recall what happened during labour when their daughter was born and how it affected them and their daughter’s future and life.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It isn't about the money, I have more money than they could offer, we're not here for a settlement. I don't want this to be swept this under the carpet, I want them to admit liability for what they've done to our daughter."

Harry never spoke like this.

It wasn't in the singer's nature to be abrasive or even to be straight to the point with people. When interviewers asked him questions that were rude or interfering or just plain rude he weaved around the question or gave a polite answer, Harry didn't know how to be mean or rude or cruel or subjective. He gave people the benefit of the doubt, he treated people with kindness and expected others to do the same.

But this was someone Harry couldn't be calm with and it was a subject that simply couldn't be talked about kindly. He felt cheated, he felt broken and hurt and fearful for his daughter's future and he didn't know how else to go about this when it was foreign territory to him.

"I understand that Mr Styles-"

"Then why offer us a settlement that discloses we can't go to court if we sign it?" Harry took law in college even if it wasn't something he had pursued or taken to university, he knew the basics. He read the contract that was pushed in front of him and waved in front of his face like a flag, it was there urging them to sign to make this all go away when that wasn't the point of them being here.

If Harry and (Y/n) signed the settlement in front of them all that would happen was a sum of money would be placed into their bank account for Lilah's future and that would be it. There would be no one taking responsibility for what they had done to her, no one would say sorry or be held accountable and if (Y/n) and Harry ever changed their minds, they couldn't go to court or take this any further because the settlement meant that was it. It was a contract to make everything go away for the hospital, not for them.

Harry would be blunt of that was what their solicitor in front of them wanted. Harry would tell her that the money the hospital were offering wouldn't make a dent on what he himself had made by the time he was nineteen with the band and it was nothing compared to what he had gotten over the years afterwards. He didn't want money, Harry had far too much of it for his own good, he didn't need any more money he was set for three lifetimes over.

He and (Y/n) hadn't come here today to try and get money for themselves or for Lilah because they could provide for her. They were here because their daughter deserved some kind of justice for the mistakes that had happened and Harry wasn't leaving without it.

"Because going to court can take months, even years and there is no guarantee that you will win the case, and that's if it gets to court. A settlement is easier for both parts and it is the first point of call. The medical board has already examined your case and is willing for a settlement because court is unlikely."

"We've got the rest of Lilah's life to take them to court for what they've done to her. Money can't change how they've ruined her life." (Y/n) felt Harry taking her hand in his when she spoke up for the first time since they entered the office. She wasn't in the mood to argue but it seemed to be the only way they were going to get through to the solicitor who was supposed to be on their side. They had hired her so she could help them get the hospital to admit liability for Lilah.

Lilah's birth two years ago hadn't been a smooth ride, it had been anything but and because of the midwife and doctor's negligence during her birth, Lilah hadn't been breathing for fourteen seconds. She suffered with her breathing when she finally managed to breathe and was stuck in ICU for two months and two months ago at Lilah's checkup, they found out she had cerebral palsy caused by the lack of breathing during her birth. It wasn't something that could be treated or cured, Lilah could only be helped and her life made easier but her condition was lifelong.

Harry and (Y/n) had more than enough money to care for Lilah and any medical expenses or treatment she would need, they weren't trying to sue the medical board for compensation. They wanted them to take responsibility for how they had ruined Lilah's life. Walking was going to be a struggle for her, if she could ever walk, she might have speech problems and development issues growing up. Her life was never going to be normal or easy but if her birth had been smoother her life would be normal.

"Mrs Styles, I can see why you're wanting to do this, but you must see that there is a very limited number of people who take these kind of cases to court when they're not after compensation for their child. The court would deem it pointless."

"It's pointless to want justice for your child? Lilah's whole life is ruined and money can't fix it, I want them to admit what they did and be reprimanded for it." (Y/n) knew this. She knew most parents didn't have the kind of money she or Harry did so when they went to court they wanted both justice and compensation which meant they would be able to look after their child and have their child cared for for life. But just because they had money didn't mean they had justice.

"I'm sorry but the court won't see admitting liability as a reason for taking things that far if you don't want compensation. I'm not saying it won't ever happen but the chances aren't great when you aren't asking for money, that's how the court and the hospital will see this."

"Fine, tell the medical board we'll take them to court for liability and for compensation that can be donated to a charity of our choice because of what they did. They can put a large chunk of money towards a charity helping kids with cerebral palsy because they caused it for Lilah. They ruined her life, all we're asking is for responsibility and we're getting it. Tell them anything, that we want that doctor fired for this, just... please, our daughter isn't a case they can throw money at to get her to go away. Her health can't be fixed with money, they should know that."

The way Harry spoke was almost admirable if it wasn't for the pained expression on his lips or the way that his rings punctured into his fingers and his palms when his hands clenched into tight fists. His legs were crossed causing his knee to push into the desk in front of him as his head was leaning on his right hand, pushing his ring into his jaw.

If they would only go to court for compensation reasons then he and (Y/n) would do that. They would take a large amount of the hospital's money and donate it to a charity to pay for what they did to Lilah, as long as it got the hospital to admit what they did and get some kind of repercussion for the doctor who let Lilah suffer in the way she did.

Her life was ruined just as it began, no money could fix the doctor's mistakes and no amount of money could make her better, if it could Harry would have paid it already. He wanted to be able to tell Lilah when she was older that this wouldn't happen to anyone else and they got justice for the life she had to live.

"Okay, I'll see what I can do."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lilah-Rose Styles.

The name floated around in (Y/n)'s head like a mantra she couldn't stop thinking about until she could see the letters dancing in front of her when she opened her eyes. But what really made her head swim and her heart beat faster was when she heard the name from Harry's lips. The way he spoke so slowly and drawled out the name made it sound like it was the most precious thing in the world. Anything sounded better when Harry said it but that name sounded so unique when his accent and slow speech put a spin on it.

For this last month of the pregnancy (Y/n) had heard that name from his lips almost every day and it was heaven, it was as if she was already born and right here with them when he said it. The name made this so much more real, even more real than being in labour right now.

They practised saying the name and seeing how it rolled off the tongue, how it looked in writing and they imagined how she would look and if the name would suit her. But now they had their hearts set on the name, (Y/n) was worried she wouldn't look like a Lilah-Rose when she was born.

"I'm gonna get it tattooed somewhere, with a little rose in the corner and the letters spelled out in vines and petals." The way Harry whispered those words in her ear made (Y/n) smile sweetly despite the agony she felt and the sweat glistening on her skin or her hair that was matted in its bobble and hanging limply wherever it so pleased.

She could tell that Harry already had the design ready in his head as always, with an intricate tattoos he could picture the exact size it would be, where he wanted it, if it should be in colour or just dark navy blue ink. He could picture every little detail and describe it as if it was already inked onto his skin.

"W-where? You don't have much space left." (Y/n) mumbled quietly through gritted teeth, not wanting to speak much louder in case her voice broke but there was no annoyance or malice in her tone. The only free space Harry had left was his back, his neck and his legs. Having their daughter's name on his legs wouldn't seem right, having her name on his back meant Harry couldn't see it which was why he had no tattoos on his back and on his neck didn't seem right somehow.

"Just above the butterfly, gotta have it near my heart, right?"

(Y/n) could only nod her head in response before she tucked her chin into her chest giving Harry the exposure he needed to kiss the back of her neck which reminded her of butterfly wings delicately fluttering against her skin.

Both Harry's hands were curled around (Y/n)'s to the point her hands were engulfed and no longer visible but that was how she liked it. The only difference was that he didn't have his rings on, only his wedding ring was left and it was weird for both of them when he only took a few of them off when he went to sleep. But Harry didn't want all the rings on right now because he wanted to hold (Y/n)'s hands and the rings would only puncture into her skin and cause her more pain.

(Y/n) found herself staring at Harry's nails for a few seconds when it felt like her head was buzzing with static. She focused on the very light shades of pale pink and lime green coating his nails and she almost got lost in the simple colours until the pain came rushing back to her.

The water they were sat in was very calming and soothing to her torn and aching muscles but it wasn't medicine, it didn't mask the pain. But it did stop (Y/n)'s muscles from seizing up and stopped her from being stiff sitting on the bed like she had been for the past six hours.

"Okay, a big push for me and her head should be almost crowning."

That was music to (Y/n)'s ears, they were getting so close now that it was becoming scary, but it was almost over. Lilah was so close she was almost within their reach, they could have her in their arms soon, they could see what she looked like and how big she was and how delicate she looked and hear her cry for the first time and take her first breath.

(Y/n) felt the water lapping at her skin when she leaned back against Harry's chest and sunk down just a little bit more into the water, letting it envelope around her in a smothering hug.

It felt relaxing to have Harry's hands in hers and his arms pulling around her waist like he didn't want her to suddenly drift away in the water. But (Y/n)'s eyes soon opened and her head leaned back on his shoulder to look up at him when he shifted back in the water rather suddenly like something had spooked him or dawned on him. She didn't have the energy to speak so she just looked up at him quizzically.

"I- is that normal?" Harry looked over at the midwife who was across from them in the small pool they were sat in but his eyes showed only anxiety and confusion. He knew what to expect, he'd been to the birthing classes and to all the doctor's appointments with (Y/n) and they'd gone through the birthing plan they wanted. But when he looked down and saw that the water was turning a bright shade of red, it didn't look normal to him. Blood was normal in this case but the way the water looked like he was becoming dyed with food colouring made Harry nervous.

(Y/n) tightened her hands around Harry's when Jane reached forward to examine her stomach before pulling back.

"It's a small haemorrhage because baby seems to be breach. She seems a bit distressed so I'll call doctor but the best thing might be to get you out of the pool and onto the bed." The midwife they knew as Jane didn't look worried which settled one of the many nerves raging in Harry's stomach but he still didn't like this.

He could feel (Y/n) tightening her hands around his and he saw the pained expression on her face. The water had calmed her from the moment she sat down in the pool and it was making her more at ease and relaxed, getting back on the bed wasn't what she wanted, she wanted to have Lilah here in the pool.

"Harry I- I can't move." (Y/n) tucked her face into Harry's neck as she felt like crying in anger and annoyance. Her legs were immobile right now and her lower half was numb despite her not having any pain relief, standing up wasn't going to be a good option, let alone trying to walk over to the bed. (Y/n) wanted to stay here, she wanted to sit in the water and have Lilah here and have her properly as opposed to having her breach like this.

It dawned on Harry as odd that Jane didn't know sooner that Lilah was going to be breach but he suspected Lilah must have just wriggled around at the last minute and decided to change her position to keep them on their toes.

"S'alright love, we'll get you up and on the bed, you'll be fine."

They both turned their heads in the direction of the door when it opened and a doctor walked in. He looked to be middle forties with slightly grey hair and grey stubble but he wore a smile which was kind of calming. He spoke quietly with Jane for a few seconds before he examined (Y/n)'s stomach presumably to check Lilah was actually breach.

"Alright Mrs Styles, let's get you on the bed and check you both over, I don't think we'll be needing this pool any longer."

Harry could hear the small whimper that left (Y/n)'s lips at the news but they couldn't really do anything else. He got out first so he could help (Y/n) without the risk of slipping or falling himself but he could see the way she trembled and how her legs were buckling the moment she stood up. She was too numb and weak to be moving far at all. Her arms locked around Harry's neck and his hands were firm on her hips, slowly guiding (Y/n) out of the pool with Jane holding her arms for added precaution.

"Shh, shh it's okay, I've got you." Harry's voice was so quiet yet calming it sounded like he was singing in (Y/n)'s ear when a pained moan escaped her lips and her nails suddenly punctured into his upper back. Her head pushed into his chest and her back arched along with her knees but Harry managed to keep her upright, not wanting her to go down on her knees in case she hurt herself.

He made sure to be careful when they walked over to the bed since all three of them were dripping water from the pool but Harry couldn't help but wince when (Y/n) screamed the moment they tried to ease her onto the bed. She seemed to want to squat down or kneel on the floor but that wasn't really a choice right now.

Harry kneeled on the edge of the bed with (Y/n) sat in the middle, her legs hanging off the other side of the bed and her back leaning up against Harry, his arms cocooned around her waist to calm her down and secure her against him. He could almost feel the pain (Y/n) didn't seem to notice when the doctor injected her in her thigh with something to help clot her blood to make sure the bleeding would stop.

Jane placed a few monitoring stickers on (Y/n)'s stomach but the sudden noise the monitor made made both Harry and (Y/n) jump, it sounded like Lilah's heartbeat was slow but the monitor was panicking and getting louder to voice its panic.

"Baby is distressed and she's haemorrhaging... should I call for an emergency C-section?" Jane tried to be quiet when talking to the doctor but both parents heard and Harry felt (Y/n) shaking in his arms. That was a last resort, (Y/n) wanted to do this naturally but she didn't count on anything going wrong, she hoped for the best and didn't try and think about the worst.

"Is something wrong, that sounds bad." Harry had both his mother and his sister talk him through this so he would be ready and neither of them had had anything happen during their pregnancies. Everything had gone smoothly and Harry was only prepared for this to go smoothly too, he didn't know what to do if something went wrong or out of plan, he liked things scheduled and perfect. Things going wrong or out of time didn't settle well with him because he liked to have control of the situation so everything was okay.

"Don't worry we won't need a C-section, baby is just unsettled. I'm sure (Y/n) can start pushing again and the sooner we have baby here the better things will be. We don't have any reason to panic just yet."

The doctor seemed very certain and he was still smiling like he had control but it didn't feel right. (Y/n) wondered if a C-section might be easier because it would be swift, Lilah could be born quickly and helped instantly. But then again, if she was almost crowning now, it might be too late for a C-section if she was almost here.

"Let's start pushing." The way he spoke was almost forceful even though he was calm and still partly smiling. It was like he was in a hurry or had somewhere else he needed to be.

(Y/n) looked up at Harry who looked just as uncertain as she did because they both knew (Y/n) had been coached to push on contractions rather than as and when she was told by a professional. But as soon as the next contraction hit (Y/n) pushed like she was told, even though this time it felt like her lower half was beginning to burn.

Harry punctured his teeth into his lower lip to stop himself from screaming when (Y/n)'s shriek tore through to his soul as if she had been stabbed but it didn't phase the doctor at all.

"Just unhooking baby's legs (Y/n), keep pushing everything is fine."

She couldn't keep pushing, it was hurting more than it should and (Y/n) didn't like how this doctor was acting or speaking. He could have warned her that Lilah's legs were caught and he was going to pull them down to free them rather than hurt her and then tell her what he was doing. He could be more considerate and understanding that she was pushing a baby out and it wasn't going according to plan.

"I can't... H- Harry s-she isn't okay..." (Y/n)'s chest was vibrating and shuddering up and down as she was barely breathing, all of her air was bumping out through her lips but only small amounts of air were being inhaled to the point she wasn't really breathing at all. (Y/n) could see the monitor was becoming more frantic and Lilah wasn't even moving anymore, aside from (Y/n) forcing her out into the world. Something wasn't right, she didn't want to do this anymore she wanted to be at home safe and sound with Lilah and Harry, not here in pain and in danger of something going wrong.

"I know, I know but she's almost here now love. Just keep going at your pace, you're doing so well." Harry couldn't do anything or say anything to make it better. He could only hold (Y/n) and encourage her to carry on because Lilah was nearly born, they couldn't very well have a C-section now when she was half born, the only way to help her was to get labour over and done with, as bad as it may seem.

Harry's eyes darted around the room though he wasn't sure what he was searching for. He watched Jane getting towels and clamps and scissors ready to cut the cord and she set up the scales and got tubes in case Lilah couldn't breathe, she seemed to have given u and let the doctor take over fully. But he wasn't much help and when Harry leaned over he could see the steady flow of blood dripping onto the sheet on the bed and the one placed on the floor. The blood was trickling down Lilah's legs and smeared onto (Y/n)'s legs and it made him want to be sick.

"Baby's arms are stuck, I need you to push long and hard for me so we can free them."

Harry could feel the exact moment the doctor tried to free Lilah's arms because it sent waves of shock and pain through (Y/n) who vibrated in his arms. Her scream was ungodly and Harry could only imagine how the pain must have felt but as he hugged (Y/n) tighter and tried to calm her down by humming in her ear, he leaned forward to look down over her shoulder.

The blood was getting substantial but what scared the flesh from his bones was looking at Lilah. Only her head wasn't born yet but her chest was moving like she was convulsing and her arms were shaking and it made Harry wonder if she was trying to breathe. He'd heard of it, babies trying to breathe when born breach because it would be confusing to them but if she was doing that she could suffocate.

"I- it hurts... please..." (Y/n) didn't know what she was pleading for but whatever it was, she needed it to happen now. She was feeling like she was about to pass out from the pain that the doctor was only making worse and she could feel Harry's lips pressing to her cheek and the tears falling from his eyes because he was scared for both his girls.

She just wanted it to stop.

"Just the head now (Y/n), we need baby born now so she doesn't start breathing with her head suffocated like this." His words did nothing to calm the couple down because Harry knew. He could feel it in his gut that his girl was already suffocating but if he told the doctor or (Y/n) that it would only further hurt and panic his wife. Harry couldn't tell (Y/n) in case she hurt herself trying to get Lilah into the world.

"S-stop! Stop it!" (Y/n) wanted to kick her feet out and knock the doctor away from her until he was on his hands and knees and didn't dare come back near her but she couldn't move her legs an inch with how numb and broken they felt. The air was taken from her lungs when it felt like the doctor was butchering her.

(Y/n) had been prepared when they came to the hospital, she knew that when having Lilah the head would be the worst to give birth to but she thought that would be first and then it would be much easier to push. But having her come the wrong way round meant the worst bit was at the end and (Y/n) was out of energy to push any more but it was almost as if the doctor was pulling Lilah or moving her to try and get her head free and (Y/n) didn't like it one bit.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Harry looked over at the doctor with malice in his eyes, he was causing (Y/n) so much pain with such an air of confidence about him that he shouldn't have. He should be kind, sympathetic and be helping (Y/n) rather than trying to get this whole ordeal over with.

"Baby is born now." His words were overpowered by the mix of a scream and a wail that echoed around the walls and reverted back to Harry's ears that made him cringe.

Harry felt (Y/n) slump down against him like she had suddenly passed out or even died but when he looked at her he could see her half-lidded eyes were still conscious. His arms tightened around her despite not wanting to cause her pain, he wanted to comfort her as well as himself and holding her closer was the only way he could calm himself down right now.

He leaned over (Y/n)'s shoulder again, pressing his lips to the top of her head but his eyes focused on the doctor who had their girl resting on his knees. She wasn't moving anymore, not even a spasm of her arm or a little wriggle, her chest wasn't quaking and her lips were a pale shade of blue with her skin being pale grey instead of peach or bright pink.

She wasn't okay.

"Harry..."

He looked down at (Y/n), trying to hide the pain in his eyes so she wouldn't get scared but she was already afraid. She hadn't heard their girl cry, she hadn't managed to look down and see Lilah and the doctor wasn't saying anything either. She knew something had been wrong and she knew Lilah wasn't okay by the way Harry wasn't smiling or crying with joy or marvelling at their daughter.

"Shh... it's okay." He knew it wasn't but he didn't know what else to say.

Harry watched Jane mess around cutting the cord and delivering the placenta as the doctor stood up and moved a few feet away, not looking panicked as he tried to get Lilah to breathe. Harry couldn't help but count the seconds he watched the doctor try and force Lilah to take a proper breath and he got to roughly thirteen seconds before his eyes widened in their sockets. He heard (Y/n) moaning in absolute agony when they both watched Lilah take a breath but blood and a murky substance left her lips at the same time.

Jane rushed over to the doctor with a small tube which they placed down Lilah's throat to clear her lungs as she continued to cough and breathe very shallow, small breaths.

Neither couple knew who had called for another doctor who came rushing into the room but they were thankful for her. When Harry felt the way (Y/n) started to shake against him when the previous doctor who was no longer holding Lilah came over to them, he felt like screaming.

This man had hurt (Y/n) when there was no need, he hadn't treated her with any respect or kindness or like she was a mother in pain and he'd not cared or fussed over Lilah when she was in peril.

"Get out. Get out I want him out!" The words were repeated again and again with more rage until finally the new doctor came over to the couple.

"I'm Dr Hane, I'll take over your aftercare now. Dr Cole, can you leave the room please?" She clearly didn't understand the tension in the room but she was at least obliging to the couple's wishes and putting them first. She took a few seconds to check over Lilah who was in Jane's arms before she moved to kneel in front of (Y/n). "Jane, please take the little one down to ICU immediately, (Y/n), is it? We need you laying properly on the bed, let's sort you out honey."

"Baby... I w-want my baby..." (Y/n) reached a shaking hand out to Jane who was just about to rush out of the room with Lilah in her arms. But (Y/n) hadn't even gotten one glimpse of her yet, she wanted to see her and touch her and make sure she was alive before she was swept away anywhere else.

"You can't hold her just now but you can touch her and look at her for a few moments... she's inhaled fluids and some blood when trying to breathe in the womb so her lungs need to be cleared out."

Dr Hane nodded and Jane who moved and stood beside the couple, not really willing for them to hold her since Lilah was clearly unwell and needed special care right now but they could see her. Harry's hand enveloped over (Y/n)'s and reached out for Lilah, their fingers brushing over her cheek and pale chest. They were relieved that the blood wasn't due to a problem in Lilah's lungs but at the same time, inhaling fluids was still a very bad thing, she could get infections or pneumonia from that.

Harry kissed (Y/n)'s temple repeatedly when her breaths started to tremble before a round of sobs escaped her lips when Jane left with Lilah. (Y/n) felt like it was the last time they were going to see her, like they were stealing her away or she was dead and they couldn't even hold her.

"S'okay baby, shh, we'll hold her when she's better." Harry hoped to God that his words were true.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #dad! harry styles #imagine #one direction

294 notes · View notes

slut-for-fandoms · 5 years ago

Text

Paint me yours || Part 2

Pairings: Artist!Taehyung x reader

Word count: 2k

Genre: smut, fluff, angst (in the following chapters)

Summary: You are an art college student who struggles with finances. Until one day, on an exhibition of the arising artist Kim Taehyung, when the same boy offers you a job as his model. Would it be just a simple job or would it complicate your life in ways you have never thought it would?

Warnings: None in this one

PART 1

A/N: I know, I know. Its been ages since I first posted part 1, but I was struggling with a lot of things and lack of inspiration of what and how to write it. Honestly, I am not even sure how this one turned out to be, at one point I was thinking of just posting the smut part, but part of me really wants to try and build this up with all the emotions I could put into the story. I hope you like it and please leave a comment as it will mean a lot to me :) Sorry for the mistakes you are gonna face!

Thrill. Surprise. Excitement. Nervousness. And all thanks to a small piece of paper.

“I will be looking forward to your answer, darling. ;)”

-K.T. Number: ********95

I’ve been playing with it for the last 5 days, 17 hours and… 39 minutes ruminating whether I should call him or not. Groaning in annoyance I throw it on the bed, next to me. Running my hands through my face and hair, I close my eyes in attempt to recall the events from that night.

‘I- um what?’ my brain was so slow in processing the information, that I didn’t even realize I had spoken out loud. He only chuckled. His hand disappeared in the inside pocket of his golden coat searching for something. My confused and taken-aback self was following his movements with the hope to grasp what was happening. His long and soft fingers soon showed, holding a small piece of paper. His other hand was already holding a pen and he scrabbled something on it.

‘I’d like to work with you dear.’ he announced while handing me the paper. My eyes were moving from his aristocratic hands to his soft hazel eyes as my mouth was opened slightly making me look like a fish out of the ocean.

He licked his lower lip, then bit it trying to prevent his smile when my body somehow decided to react at take the paper.

‘You are indeed an interesting person Ms. (Y/N). Unfortunately, I need to leave but I truly hope we meet soon.’ winking he turned around and slowly excited the room. This gave me the opportunity to observe him more. Even his walk was showing gracefulness and elegance. His head was held high, showing the confidence he had and to show the respect to the people who came to ‘contemplate’ his works. He was smiling, thanking to his guests, shaking hands with them. Once he disappeared I glanced at the slip of paper in my hands.

‘(Y/N)!’ the screaming and banging on my door brought me back in the reality. Although all of this happened almost a week ago my body still reacts to any memory of him. The thought of him smiling, makes me smile too, the way his piercing eyes were looking at me causes my heart to skip a beat, his laugh…oh god his laugh. Every single fucking time I recall that boxy and cute shape of his mouth when he laughs and the sparkles that reach his eyes… ‘(Y/N)!’

‘Stop banging on the damn door, I can hear you!’ I shout back angrily.

‘Then fucking answer.’ groaning I get up from the bed and go to open the door for my roommate.

‘What?’ crossing my arms in front of my chest I lean on the door frame.

‘Dear, why the attitude?’ she looks at me concerned, ‘Are you on your period?’

‘What? No! I-‘, inhaling I try to gather myself, ‘I just have a lot of projects to finish. Don’t worry. Why were you trying to knock my door off some seconds ago?’ her face changes from worry to sympathy and then to a big smile.

‘Oh yeah, about that…’ all of a sudden the smile disappears which confuses me.

‘Come on, spill the beans.’ I wasn’t really in the mood to deal with people.

‘I need you to leave for the night?’

‘Excuse you, I what?’ I really hope she is joking with me right now.

‘Look. I do not want to do it but Jackson is crashing here tonight and I-’, she stutters as she’s trying to explain me everything.

‘You want some time alone and blah blah blah. I get it Rose but I have nowhere to go, you do know that.’ I wanted to be angry, I really wanted but I just couldn’t.

Being an art student with almost no financial support is really hard. The money my mum sends me is never enough due to fact we both come from a poor country. She works her ass off every damn day to support my dreams. Some months ago I was kicked out of my old flat because I wasn’t able to pay the rent. Thank god I had Rose as one of my really close friends to offer me her place to crash for some time until I find a place. I was feeling bad enough that I wasn’t paying anything to her and god knows how many times the fact I’ve been living with her have ruined her plans. I even started working two jobs but balancing them with my projects is almost impossible, that’s why I had to quit one of them two weeks ago.

‘I know (Y/N) but it is Jackson’s birthday. I have planned everything. I really want it to be the best evening if you know what I mean.’

Taking a deep breath I answer her.

‘I will see what I can do.’, suddenly her face was beaming with happiness.

‘Gosh, you are the best (Y/N)!’ Rose hurried to hug me with the smile never leaving her face ‘I am gonna treat you with pancakes tomorrow. I know they are your favourite.’

After that she goes to her room, probably to start preparing for tonight. Sighing, I hold my head against the door the second I close it. I turned around and looked at my phone. 11:23 am. Good. Today is Friday, my day off of one of the jobs. Maybe I can call to get a night shift? It that way I will be out almost the whole night and come back in the morning when everything is finished. Perfect! Jumping with excitement I open my phone and search for my boss’ number.

‘Hello, Mr. Kim! It’s (Y/N)!’, I speak as soon as my boss picks up.

‘Oh, Hello there (Y/N)!’, his raspy voice greets me back. I am not gonna lie, I might have or might have not had a massive crush on him when I started working. What can I say? That man is quite a walking sex on legs and nobody can resist him, ‘It is strange, I was about to call you in an hour.’, he laughs drily which makes me uncomfortable immediately. I may have not worked there for a long time but I learned how to sense his mood as it is a fast changing one.

‘Is something wrong, sir? I wanted to ask if there is a chance about taking a night shift today. I know it is my free day but I kinda need it if-’

‘About that, dear…’, he cuts me off. There is a moment of silence on the phone before he speaks, ‘I think we might not need you anymore. Do not get me wrong, dear. You have been doing more than a great job, but at this point, with Jiso coming back after he accident, we are too many people and I cannot pay everyone the deserved salary or even separate the amount of work equally between everybody.’

‘And I was the last one to join, yeah… I get it why it is me.’, I sit down on my bed, trying to compose myself and not start crying on the phone with my fucking boss. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

‘I am really sorry, (Y/N)! You are amazing, but I can’t fire the others, most of them depend on it more’, yeah because I don’t, but decided to not state it out in anger, ‘I wanted to tell you weeks before this actually happens but I just couldn’t. You can come tomorrow to get your weekly salary with some compensation from us for the situation I put you in. I will try to contact some of my business friends and allies and see if they search for somebody and recommend you.’

‘That would be very nice, thank you, sir.’

‘Again, Sorry dear! I hope you have a nice day.’

‘Yeah…’, my first were clenched and I was ready to go and storm into his office and beat the hell out of him, ‘Have a nice day, too, sir!’, I did my best to fake the nicest tone I could before hanging up.

How the hell did this happen? My anger soon turned into panic and desperation. I cannot lose my job just like that. It is completely out of the blue. I need the money. I barely pull the two ends together, and I am not even paying for a place to stay. That is horrible. That is horrible. What am I supposed to do now? I can’t tell my mum that. She will make me go back and we are already deep in debt.

Inhale! Exhale! Inhale! Exhale! Deep breaths. Everything is going to be fine! Just breathe and think. Think (Y/N)! It is mid-term, almost every possible job has already been taken by the students. I struggles so much with finding this one and the money were so good. It was pure luck. I should not have quitted being a waitress. Oh, god I am so stupid!

In frustration I lay back on the bed with my hands covering my face. But as soon as I lay down something tickles my cheek. One of hands traces the spot in order to find what the hell is on my face. I turn around to see it when my fingers wrap around it. It is the small note from Taehyung. I smile a little bit at it. It was literally the only good thing that has happened to me in the past week…wait.

I sit up abruptly and stare at the note unbelievingly. Should I? I take my phone. What if he was just joking with you? I leave the phone. Why would he? He must have given me the note with a reason? Right? Right?! My insecurities and lack of common sense fight for the next seconds.

Jesus Christ, why is it so hard to decide?

Okay, let’s see. I can text him that I am considering the offer and that it will be temporary until I find a stable job. I heard models earn a lot for such sessions. Maybe It will be enough to keep me going for now? Gosh, I hope so.

My heart is ready to leave my chest when I unlock my phone and open the contacts to dial his number. My hands are shaking while trying to write it down.

Okay, now what? What should I text him?

Hello! It is (Y/N), the desperate broke girl you offer to model for you 5 days ago.

Okay, too much info! Come on, (Y/N)! Be professional. I try to delete it but, because I am (Y/N) and luck is never on my side, I click on the send button.

Shit! Fuck! The hell! Stupid bitch! I guess I just lost the job before even being able to get it. Great. Just fucking great. Should I at least try to somehow improve the situation? To make myself not look like a fucking loser? As if the last one is possible.

All of a sudden my phone starts ringing which put me in panic mode. It’s him. What do I do? What do I do?

‘Hello?’, I curse at myself how shaky and high-pitched my voice sounded.

‘Hello, dear!’, oh my sweet gosh, his voice sounded so much better than in the memories I had from that night. It was deep, smooth, feeling as though honey was running through my veins, ‘I did not think you would ever call.’, I can sense the smile in his voice.

‘Well, my schedule is kind of full’, I wish there was somebody there to slap me and pour some sense into me.

‘I am glad you found time for me then.’, he laughs and at this point I had the feeling my heart will just give up and stop beating, ‘Have you considered my offer?’

‘I- I kind of have some questions before we start a-’

‘Before we start?’, chuckling he continues, ‘I take that as a yes. When are you free to start my dear?’

‘Um, I guess today? But I want to know wh-’

‘That’s the best news I could hear today! How about you come tonight and we start? I will answer your questions and you will see what you should do and eventually if you want to stop, I will respect your decision.’

‘Well?’, he asks after some moments of silence which I didn’t even realize have slipped.

‘What time do you want me tonight?’

If you want to be tagged in the next parts, please let me know :) <3

97 notes · View notes

justoneday-namjoonii · 5 years ago

Text

Too Sweet. Part- 13 BTSvampire!au

Genre: Angst | Fluff | Mature themes / Descriptions of blood and…other things/ Supernatural

Biased: You X Yoongi X Jungkook X Vampire!au BTS

Type: Vampire!au

summary: y/n is on a botany retreat to a dreamy island that leads to a surprising encounter and startling discovery!

A/n:Thank you for reading and enjoy!!❤

| INTRO I Pt. 1 I Pt. 2 I Pt. 3 I Pt. 4 I Pt. 5 I Pt. 6 I Pt. 7 I Pt. 8 | Pt. 9 | Pt. 10 | Pt. 11 | Pt. 12 |

In the corner of the library at 7 o’clock in the morning, you sit curled up on a study-chair with your reading glasses stuck to your face. Finals week. Every other paragraph you write down a few notes and your handwriting is beginning to look more and more like hieroglyphics. Despite the stress from a bunch of classes, your glad that your classmate just informed you of the donor requested break policy—a policy that no one had bothered to mention to you.

Basically, you can request a period where you don’t feed and they respect it. You requested two weeks, and despite the cries from Tae and Jimin to make an exception, you declined—you need a break. After everything that’s been happening, Rain coming here, Jungkook acting out, and even Yoongi, it’s been really stressful and Jin actually thought a break was just what you needed to regroup.

“Y/n, I was wondering where you were,” Namjoon peeks around the corner, “still studying I see.”

“Yeah, I have a test at 9 so just thought I’d just get some extra studying in.”

“Hm,” He nods, “so how are you liking your break?”

You furrow your brow and look up at him briefly. “It’s nice.”

“That’s nice.” He nods, leaning against the bookshelf for no reason.

“Um, did you need something or?—”

“I was wondering, what is your field of study?”

“I’ve been in general studies up until now, why do you ask?”

“Jin wanted me to ask you if you were interested in the botany program. An internship just opened and he thought you’d be great for it.” He finally gets to what he came here to say.

Your eyes brighten. “Really? Well, I’ve always thought about botany but I never knew much about it. Would I have to change any of my classes if I started the program?”

“No, we might switch one of your classes around with one of the required courses for the program but it won’t be difficult. Besides, your grades are good so I don’t think an extra class would put you in a rough spot. I’ve skimmed through your test scores and I’m proud, especially of your biology test. Honestly, you were struggling so much in our study sessions, I didn’t think you were gonna make it, but you did.” He grins like a proud teacher and you giggle because that's not the first time Namjoon has shared his concern regarding your lack of promise during lessons. “What? I’m proud.”

“Namjoon, you sound like my advisor or something,” You laugh, putting your book down to stretch your legs and pull your hoddie hood off your head.

“I kind of am in a way,” He takes his hand out of his pocket to comb it through his hair, “your academic life is important to me.”

“Quick question, why didn’t Jin just tell me about this himself? He normally would tell me something like that over tea or something, is he really busy this morning?”

“You know the whole Jungkook situation is stressing him out so he’s relying on me to relay the message, but he sends his love. He’ll be out for a majority of the day and if you accept the offer, you’ll be packing for the botanical sciences retreat so you’ll see him tonight.”

“A retreat?” You have the widest smile, “You mean like a vacation?”

“No, not a vacation- Although, the botanical gardens on the Island are exceptionally beautiful this time of year the spas there are amazing-”

“Islands!? I get to go to the Island and its for school? I’m definitely accepting now.” You glance up at the clock on the wall and sigh, “I’ll see you later, I gotta go sign in for testing.” You pack up your books and Namjoon watches you run off and out of the library.

Namjoon has been thinking a lot about your time here at the college and over the past year, he’s realized some things. Firstly, he’s recognized that there aren’t many donors that get the opportunity to spend as much time as you do with people like him. He’s got scholarly titles that he’s not even sure you know about and some of the top-paying families have paid him to mentor their children. But here you are, not rich by any means, in fact, you’re here on a well-deserved scholarship awarded by Jin. And he’s felt like he’s taken you under his wing and all he’s wants is for you is the best.

It’s almost a maternal feeling he has towards you and your education. That’s a lot coming from him, he’s not the type to just dish out his help like a tutoring center. Normally he wants compensation of some sort. He has an extraordinary mind and one lesson with him can cost a pretty penny if they’re willing.

Namjoon left the library and went back to Jungkook’s lovely little abode across the campus. But rather than Jungkook being inside looking for something to get into, he was out on the track, running to his heart's content.

Namjoon approaches the track and Jungkook’s personal trainer is standing at the finish line with his hands on his hips.

“He’s doing well. Working out has lightened him up a little bit,” The trainer says, watching Jungkook run up to them when he caught Namjoon’s eye.

“Hyung,” He slows down, panting lightly with his damp hair sticking to the side of his face, “hey,”

“Hey, Jungkook. You look refreshed,” Namjoon grins, “I came to let you know that we’re leaving tonight and your uncle will be stopping by tomorrow morning to check on you.” The trainer says Jungkook can go shower because they’re done for the day so they make they’re way to the house.

“Where are you going?”

“Botany retreat, it’s a three-day trip. Jin is going and for the first day and since Y/n has entered the program, she’s going too.”

“Oh...” Jungkook looked down for a moment, a bit shy suddenly, “H- How is she by the way?”

“She’s good. Right now she’s taking a donor break so she’s living like a normal human girl.” Namjoon was slightly taken aback but he answered nonetheless. “Why do you ask?”

Jungkook runs the back of his neck and sighs. “Uh, I don’t know, I was wondering if she was still mad at me or something.”

“You’d have to ask her. She’s been busy with her studies lately, so I’m sure the last thing she’s worried about is being mad at you.”

Jungkook had to laugh, knowing you two were always at odds made him like you even more. “Beleive it or not, I do feel bad for what I did to her. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t take back what I said but I can see why I went about it in the wrong way.”

“That’s a start I guess.” Namjoon scoffed, not surprised by Jungkook’s partial apology. “Well, while we’re gone just call if you need anything.” He gives the younger a hug before saying his final goodbyes as he walked back to the main university building.

“Last time I checked, you aren’t in the botany program, Taehyung. So you won’t be joining us.”

Jin is sitting in the office part of his bedroom as a maid packs his suitcase with the appropriate attire for the island. Taehyung came in here not too long ago and he refuses to leave because he’s trying to get Jin to let him tag along.

“But I can transfer over, can’t I?”

“Taehyung, that’s so short notice, what program are you in now? Psychology, right?”

“The only reason I’m in that program is because of my abilities. My parents want me to know how to use my gift with a well-rounded understanding of how the mind works. It’s so boring sometimes.” Tae leans on the desk with a pout.

“Look, you have to finish your program. Your parents are right, your gift can really help people if you know how to use it. But,” Jin sighs, “I think we have room for one more guest.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Taehyung bolts out of the room to pack his bag and Jin just shakes his head. If there’s one person who could talk him into something, it was Taehyung—that’s the only time he’s annoyed by his powers.

“Sir, your bag is packed, is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you, Bella, you can go.” Jin dismisses her and his eyes go back to his computer. This trip has always been something he’s looked forward to. Even though he normally can’t stay for the entirety of the trip, the first two nights are always beautiful. The gardens are very well-maintained and every time he goes he learns about new medicinal herbs that he purchases to bring back to the schools.

Namjoon slips through the door after mentally sending Jin a little warning.

“Do you come bearing gifts?” Jin grins to himself when he sees the plate in Namjoon’s hands.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” He sits a plate of assorted pastries in front of him. “The pastry chef just put these out, she let me have first pick.” He smiles, taking the chocolate croissant for himself with swiftness.

“Thank you, I was getting a little hungry,” JIn takes on and sits it on a napkin so he can finish typing, “did you talk to her by the way?” Jin peeks up at Namjoon whos sitting idly in the chair in front of the desk.

“I did, she accepted and she’s pretty excited about it.”

“Oh, I’m glad,” He sighs in relief, “this program will be good for her.”

“Yeah, I think so too...But, just curious, what’s the sudden interest in her entering this program?”

“Honestly, I don’t think I’ve been doing my job very well. Ever since she’s started attending this school, I’ve realized forgotten that she’s not just here to give blood. I know that’s the exchange for her degree but that’s not all she is. I’ve let her unusual situation influence what I allow and don’t allow. I mean, she’s close to me, I have a relationship with her that I don’t and never have had with any other donor. I feel like during this trip, once I leave she’ll have time to just be a student, no blood-related pressure or anything like that.”

“I get that, but you do have to remember her situation as well, she’s not just any donor, she’s the only one with blood like that in this country, let alone this school. That comes with a different set of rules and you shouldn’t feel guilty because you’re trying to figure that out.”

“Yeah, that’s true. But I do need her to spend some time outside of the university for a little bit, just so she can take time to focus on other things other than everyone wanting her for blood.”

It was finally over, your last test of the day and midterms were no longer holding you mentally captive. You’re strolling through the campus to meet up with Jimin at the campus bakery before you leave this evening. He said he had a few art pieces he wanted to show you and you thought you’d make it a date.

When you open the bakery door, he’s sitting at one of the windows and his eyes land on yours. “Y/n,” His smile brightens as he stands up to pull out your seat, “how are you, love?”

“I’m good, done with finals.” You give him a hug and he pecks your cheek. You take a seat and so does he.

“Well, to be honest,” He opens up his folder, “your donor break is killing me a little bit. But I’m glad to see you, spend a little time with you before you go.”

“Yeah, I’ll be back before you know it. So, what are the pieces you wanted to show me?”

“This one,” He pulls out a sheet of paper and puts it in front of you, “it’s inspired by the pond near my family's retreat.”

“It’s beautiful, Jimin.” The pond on the painting is filled with lilies, the reflection of the trees nearby. The colors remind you of Monet, the impressionism is something you wish you could do as effortlessly as him. “What are these for?”

“The universities are having a joint exhibition and they want artists from royal families to participate in the collection. They chose me from my family, I was surprised they didn’t choose my mother. She’s got more talent than my whole family combined.”

“Is this something you want to do professionally?”

“I thought about teaching classes on the side, but I don’t know.”

You smile. “That’s a great idea! I know a lot of people who’d love a lesson with you-”

“But I don’t think I can...My parents, they want something else for me. They’re fine with me continuing art but they can be really particular when it comes to my interests. They’d want to practice the art a prestigious art academy and feature in global exhibitions, that’s all a little too much for me right now.’

Your excitement dies down as his statement reminded you that he isn’t entirely free, he’s under his family’s jurisdiction in more areas of his life then you realize.

“It wouldn’t hurt to just try, you might end up loving teaching,” You have such a hopeful expression, “and your parents might just be okay with that,”

“Maybe,” He smiles, “Hey, I wanted to say that I’m so sorry for setting you up with Jungkook, I never formally apologized to you.”

“Jimin, it’s still hard for me to grasp anything that happens in this place,” You scoff, “You put me in a position where I was vulnerable, he could have done anything to me.” His eyes lower and you know he’s just beating himself up right now.

“But he didn’t do anything to me, so we got lucky. I know it was your feeding cycle and you probably didn’t take your medicine, right?” He shakes his head. “You need to get back on that medicine, it keeps you and others safe. But Jimin, it’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it.” You place your hand on his and give him a genuine smile

“Y/n,” Namjoon walked into the cafe, “we’re leaving in 20 minutes, you should make sure you’re all packed before we put the luggage on the bus.”

“Oh, ok,” You stand up and walk around the little table to Jimin, “bye Jimin, I’ll see you when I get back.” He stands up and you hug him for a few seconds.

He pecked your cheek and bid you farewell, already eager for your return as you follow Namjoon out of his sight. You rush to the common area where the students were advised to take their luggage. You look around for your suitcase and carry-on, you find it right where you had put it and let out a sigh of relief.

“I have everything.” You state confidently.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nod, “well, I might have left-”

“Your toothbrush, you can run and get it, be quick.”

Of course, he knew. You run to your bedroom and to your bathroom where you skim over everything just in case you might have forgotten anything else. Quickly, you grab an extra perfume, your toothbrush and walk down the hall—that’s when you realize you haven’t said goodbye to Yoongi. Even though he’s been a little standoffish lately, you thought it would be nice to at least say goodbye to him.

It takes you a little while, but you walked all the way from your dorm to their living space upstairs. At times like this, you wish you could initiate the whole mental bond where you can talk to one another. But now that you think about it, the bond might have weakened because of the lack of contact you two have had. That makes sense. You look around, the living room and his room and he’s nowhere to be found.

“Yoongi?” You call for him, assuming he might be napping or something.

“Y/n, come on! We’re leaving. What are you doing up here?”

“I was trying to say bye to Yoongi-” Namjoon places his hand on your back to lead you to the stairs.

“You’ll see him when we get back, we gotta go.”

All you wanted to do was say goodbye and you can’t help but you feel like he’s trying to hide from you.

When you finally get downstairs, the botany professor tells everyone to get on the bus. You stay close to Namjoon and follow him onto the bus, he’s kind of like a comforting presence in a bus of students you don’t know. Namjoon gestures for you to take a seat and you grudgingly oblige. Students are already chattering and giggling, excited about the trip. But you on the other hand, just want to go wherever Jin is because you feel socially awkward.

“Ok, do we have a headcount?” He looks at the professor in the front seat.

“Yes, we’re all here.”

“Great, I’ll be riding with Dr. Kim but we’ll meet you at the airport.” Namjoon turns to you with a tender grin. Y/n, you need to socialize with your peers.

Talk to someone, make some friends.

And that’s all he says to you before leaving you on the bus with no one you know except for Taehyung, and he’s chatting with his friends. You hug your sweater to your chest and sigh—this isn’t what you thought it’d be.

“Hi,” You hear a voice coming from above you and you peek up, “I’ve never seen you in a botany class before, what’s your name? I’m Xiaojun.”

“Hi, I’m Y/n.” You reach your hand out and he shakes it before moving to go sit with you. “Oh, you didn’t have to leave your friends-”

“No, it’s okay, I’ll spend all my time with them on the trip. You look a little,” he hesitates when you furrow your brow a bit, “shy?” He smiles, and his little fangs peek out. He’s a vampire.

“I’m not shy I just, I’m a little reserved when I don’t know a lot of people.”

“Well, let’s get to know each other, then you’ll know someone. I’m actually from the island. I don’t know if you know but my island is famous for our medicinal herbs, plants, and organic and humane animal blood sourcing. We’re Pure Bloods and we do a lot of agricultural work. My family sent me to this school to get exposure to other places and people, broaden my horizons I guess.”

“Do you like it at Jin—” You catch yourself, you can’t just call him by his first name with everybody, “I’m sorry, Dr. Kim’s school?”

“I love it. There’s a reason my family sent me here and not to some other university, the education is top-notch, they know I’ll be healthy with whatever blood I’m given here. Plus, the university has prided itself on the human-vampire integration efforts.”

“Yeah, it is a great school. Not gonna lie, I do miss my family and friends back at home sometimes. But I have to remember that the education I’m getting now is for my future. When I go see my family, they’ll be so proud to see that I’m making something of myself.”

“I feel the same way.” He slouches back in to chair. “Um, forgive me for asking but how come I can’t smell your blood at all?”

“Oh, I was on a donor break so the nurse gave me scent-suppressants.” You push back a piece of hair, your face heating up when he leans in just slightly to confirm for himself.

“Wow, they must have given you a lot.” He pauses to laugh, “You have no scent whatsoever.”

“Yeah, they had to give me a little extra,” You glance out the window to remember your excuse, “I have somewhat of an immunity to them.”

3 times the regular dosage to be precise.

“Oh, that makes sense.”

The rest of the ride, you realized how kind and easy-going a majority of the students were. Xiaojun introduced you to Melanie and Caterina, and eventually, you all began talking.

This isn’t so bad.

There you went, overthinking things and making yourself crazy over nothing. These people are sweet and you’re lucky that Jin let you switch to this program so last-minute. He treats you so well. Sometimes it feels like you’re undeserving of the special attention. Then you remember, you’re in all of this in exchange for your blood. Your blood is your free pass and it seems precarious—but a lot of things feel that way since you’ve been here. Other students seem to not notice but you’re pretty positive there are some students who suspect you. Nonetheless, you’re confident that you can hold your own and stand firm in the fact that you’re like any other student.

Soon enough, the bus pulls up at the airport and all of the students hurried out of the bus. You debated following Xiaojun, but when you saw Taehyung coming toward you, you figured you’d be sitting with him.

“Everyone, follow me so we can get on the plane, it’s in gate G. The luggage is already taken care of so don’t worry about grabbing anything.” The professor signals to all of the students and you find yourself zoning out a little bit because you’re looking for Namjoon or Jin.

“Y/n,” Taehyung walks up to you and looks at you funny, you notice he dropped the pet name, “looking for Jin hyung and Namjoon hyung?” You nod. “They’re over there,” He points to the two of them and their small entourage, “but you can’t go with them, you have to stay here with the other students.”

Confusion flashes in your eyes, “But why-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here.” He smiles, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“I’m not worried, I just- I was just wondering where they were.” You shrug, thoroughly disappointed that you were being kicked to the curb by those two. You guess that’s a little entitled that you think you’re supposed to be with them 24/7, but it’s what you’re used to. Taehyung stays by your side as the class is led to board the plane after FSA and a few bathroom trips. When you walk onto the plane, you’re greeted with a pretty flight attendant.

“Good evening, miss.” She bows and you return it with a kind smile.

You’re led to a comfortable chair with a table in between the chair directly in front of you. To your delight, Namjoon comes to sit directly in front of you with a thick book in his hands.

“So, how did it go?” He inquires.

“It was good, I met Xiaojun and his friends, Melanie and Caterina, they were nice.” You cross your arms and sigh. “I socialized, happy?”

“Very.” He smirks.

“Where’s Jin?” You look around, noticing that he had disappeared.

“He’s in the personal suite, he’s got a lot of business calls to take care of.” Namjoon sticks in his earphones in his ears and continues to read his book. You lean against the window and gaze out of the window, soon enough, your eyes slip shut and you drift to sleep.

When you wake up, everyone is unbuckling their seatbelts and taking their carry-ons and such. You blink, rubbing your eyes and sleepily unbuckling your seatbelt. You follow every one of off the plane and you inhale deeply when you walk out into the fresh air. A few vans pull up and you’re directed to get in the one with Xiaojun and a few other people. Everyone buckles up and the driver pulls out. Some of the students were talking about how beautiful the resort was, and how it's covered in thriving wildlife and surrounded by beaches.

Even though it’s dark out, you can still appreciate the beauty of the island. Judging by the tiny airport, it's not a highly populated place.

You're pretty quiet on the ride to the resort but your mind wanders. Yoongi. He comes to your mind. And you know you shouldn't feel this way, but you're a little upset at him. He tends to be a little distant when he wants to be. Sometimes it makes you feel a little weird. Due to the bond, it's hard for you not to feel like he should at least validate you in some way.

“Y/n,” Xiaojun calls your name from the seat next to you, “tonight they’re serving dinner out on the beach where they always serve it on the first night for the retreat. Some of my friends and family members will be there, I’ll introduce you to some of them.”

“That sounds nice,” You grin, finding it endearing that he’s taken such a liking to you. Then again, some of these people tend to like you so much because of your blood. What Jin regards as a gift, you see as a burden sometimes. You’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re just seen as a fulfilling meal to some of them. But you know Jin and the others see as more than that—Yoongi definitely has to see you as something more than that.

Eventually, you all made it to the resort and there was a group of women who lead you to your individual rooms. As they called everyone's names to take them to there rooms, you were the only one left in the foyer, awkwardly holding your hands.

“Hi, honey, this unit is actually taken,” A woman with beautiful long brown hair and bright eyes comes up to you, “what’s your name?”

“Y/n.”

“Oh! You’re the one Dr. Kim wanted in the other unit, that’s where your belongings are,” She smiles, putting her hand on your back to lead you out of the door, “you must be special.”

“No, I wouldn’t say that,” You let out a nervous laugh. She walks across the tropical plant-adorned walkway connecting the beach-houses and leads you to the one not too far from the other. She guides you up the stairs and into the house, when she opens the door, you immediately notice that it looks a bit personalized. Like personal touches were put on it, probably by Jin.

“Okay, your room is upstairs, I’ll show you,” She walks up the stairs and points to the room with the sunset-colored flour on the door. When she opens it for you, you instantly fall in love. The room is so charming and tropical, there’s a balcony and you see your belongings in there. “What do you think?”

You walk further into the room. “It’s beautiful, I love it. Thank you,” You sit your purse on the chair near the balcony and take a moment to take in your view of the beach. It’s so tranquil.

“I’m glad you find it to your liking. My name is Layla, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, okay? Also, dinner will be served outside in about fifteen minutes. Your muumuu is in the restroom, you can slip that on for dinner, it’s very comfortable.”

“Alright, thank you,” She grins before closing the door to leave you to wind down for a minute.

You walk into the large bathroom to see a multi-colored floral two-piece wrap hanging on the closet. You get undressed and put the dress on, it’s soft and sits right above your knees. You’re hoping you could buy more of these because you actually really like it.

When you wash your face and freshen up a bit, you walk out of the room and you hear Namjoon.

“Layla, could you have brought here after the dinner? Preferably some of your freshly picked floral teas, surprise me.” He’s standing in the foyer on his phone and he changed as well. He’s wearing the same print but with white paints and a floral shirt, and a little necklace. When you walk downstairs, he immediately notices you and the biggest smile comes to his face.

“Aw, don’t you look precious.” He giggles, watching you walk down with the same slides that were provided for everyone in the house.

You can’t help but roll your eyes and laugh. “Thanks, you look nice too.”

“I love the clothes they give us here, they’re so comfortable.”

“Yeah, um, how come Jin has me in here with you guys? I thought I’d be with that other students.”

“I thought so too, I’m not sure why he changed it. Anyway, let’s head over to the eat, I’m sure they’re about to start bringing dishes out.”

The two of you walk out together and Namjoon leads the way of course because he knows where it is. When you start walking into the sand you can see the light lit by fire and a huge mat of some sort where a long table is. You can see other students coming from their rooms and taking seats wherever. And you get excited as soon as you see Jin, sitting next to Taehyung and someone you’d never met.

“There’s no need to be nervous, it’s just dinner.” Namjoon teases, taking his rightful seat next to Taehyung and you sit next to him.

“I know that it’s the new people, not the meal,” You mumble.

“Y/n,” You hear a small call of your name and look to where it’s coming from, it’s Xiaojun, “this is my cousin, Kun.” The guy next to him waves.

“Hi,

“Hi, nice to meet you.” He smiles and you feel a warmness from him. “Xiaojun says you’re new to the program?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy your first experience here. Our people have been supplying medicinal herbs, plants, basically anything you can grow right here on this island. Vampires all over the world buy from us and humans as well.”

“Really?”

“Yep, and we discover new plants and herbs on our sister islands every year or so.”

He goes on and on but you actually get really drawn into what he has to say about the contributions the island makes. It draws the attention Jin and you don’t even notice. He’s talking to some other people and Namjoon so he’s not going to talk to you now, but he wants to know how you’re doing. By the time the conversation comes to an end, dinner is over. The food was delicious and you’re already ready for breakfast.

“It was nice talking to you Kun,” You stand and give him a small bow, “have a good night.”

“You too, Y/n.”

You walk back to the house, slides in your hand so you can feel the sand under your feet. When you get up the stairs, you enter the house and go straight to the shower. Overall, this day has been pretty successful. You met people, learned some things, and even ventured out of your comfort zone.

Before you head to the shower, you pull your toiletries and pajamas out of your suitcase. The shower is tiled with smoothe gray pabbles that feel heavenly under your feet and the showerhead is like a gentle rain. You get out of the shower after a good fifteen minutes and do your routine. The pajamas that Jin gave you are the ones you decided to bring and they’re your favorite. They’re super soft, long-sleeved, and surprisingly breathable.

After you jump into the king-size bed and relish in the comfy bed sheets, you decide to go talk to Jin. You leave your room and go search for him, and it doesn’t take you long to find him and Namjoon with tea in the living room upstairs.

You walk into the room and he beams when he sees you. “Y/n, I was just about to come to see you. Please, come sit,” He gestures to the couch next to Namjoon whos looking very relaxed.

“So, how are you liking everything? I’m sorry I haven’t been able to be with you, I’ve had a lot of business to take care of.”

“It’s okay, it’s been nice actually. I met a few people and I learned some things about the island.” You sit cross-legged, expression bright since you get to talk to him finally.

“I’m glad, I was telling Namjoon that I thought this program would be great for you.” He takes a sip of tea. “Also, I wanted to let you know that if I’ve ever made it seem like your blood is more important to me than your job as a student, I apologize. I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m neglecting your studies for your blood. I know sometimes I let your circumstances dictate a lot but I don’t ever mean to isolate you from your peers, you just have to understand that I’ve never had a student like you.”

“I mean, I’m a student at the university in exchange for my blood. But I will admit that sometimes it’s hard because some students notice when I’m getting special treatment and things like that...I don’t want anyone to think that I’m not meeting my academic requirements if that makes sense.”

“I assure you, ” Namjoon looks at you, a slight smile that shows his dimples, “I will make sure you meet your academic requirements, that’s not a problem, kitten.” Jin nods in agreement.

“I also want to mention Director Rain, what did you think? Do you feel okay with him being around?”

Rain.

His name gives you chills.

“He- He seems kind of intimidating, I felt a little nervous around him...Remember when bit me? He had me do things that I’d never had to do before, it was weird.” You admit. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, he wants to spend some more time with you, just to get to know you and learn about your blood. He’s genuine. He’s not one of those higher-ups that want to steal donors and treat them like nothing but a means of nutrients. He’s very knowledgeable and he’s going to be monitoring Jungkook for a while until his awakening is under control, so he’ll be around more often.”

You furrow your brows. “Jungkook’s awakening? What is that?”

“He’s awakening. In his bloodline, its called The Eyes of Eclipsia.”

This is all new to you. “Who’s Eclipsia?”

“She was their great-great-grandmother and she was very powerful. She was born with no vampire traits but her deep violet eyes that glow saffron red were the mark of her strength. Rain has it, Jungkook’s father has it, and now, so does Jungkook. I really don’t know how to help Jungkook through this so he’s going to assist me with him.”

“Do I have to spend time with him?...” You say that hesitantly.

“You don’t have to, of course, I’m not forcing you, but it would be nice if you just gave him a little of your time. Just think about it, okay? No pressure. I’m gonna head to bed, and I think you should do the same, we’ve had a long day.”

“Wait,” You catch him before walking out, “I was wondering, why am I not with the other students?”

“The suppressants in your systems could where off and I don’t want any of the vampire students to get any ideas. I think it’s safest that you stay where we are, I hope you don’t mind.”

You shake your head, “No, I was just wondering.”

He gets up and walks over to you. He rubs your head lovingly, leaning down to look you in the eye. “I’m gonna balance out your energy, okay?” You nod. He touches your forehead for a few seconds and you can feel your body relax slowly. Namjoon suddenly places his hand on your shoulder and your eyes open to looking over at him.

“Her energy has been off all day,” Namjoon reveals, “I think it’s because she was nervous and all the suppressants we gave her don’t go without side effects.”

“Well,” Jin pulls away, “that should help. Good night.” Jin leaves you two and you were about to get up to go to bed as well but Namjoon grabs your wrist lightly.

“Beleive it or not, I’m at the end my feeding cycle but I’m having bad cravings...Do you feel up to giving blood? If not I can get blood from someone else but your blood is much preferred.”

“No, that’s fine, just please don’t make a mess, I just showered.” You grant him his request and he stands up, hands eagerly grasping your shoulders.

”When have you ever known me to be messy?” He giggles, leaning down to your neck and biting down you with a sharp inhale. You stiffen. It’s been a week or so since you’ve last been fed on and it hurt. “It hurts...”

I’m sorry, just give me a minute, it’ll feel better in a second, he speaks into your thoughts. He doesn’t move but you can feel him gulping down considerable amounts of blood. It starts to burn, your heart is drumming and you feel your head getting loopy.

Slowly, his hands leave your shoulders and slide down to hold your hands. He simultaneously opens his mouth and latches on a little tighter, sealing your skin to his mouth completely. You squirm in discomfort, trying to get away from the sting on impulse.

After a few seconds of him not letting you move, a fuzzy feeling starts to set in. He’s releasing his venom into your bloodstream and you sigh in relief. It doesn’t take long for your head to be in the clouds.

“That’s better...” You breathe, letting yourself go pliant.

Your legs suddenly feel like jelly and your legs give way. It didn’t bother him though. He made sure to slide down with you, kneeling right in front of you. Finally having your blood in his system makes him feel a thousand times better. Recently, he’s been trying to get through the feeding cycles with as much self-control as possible. But sometimes, it’s hard for him to keep himself from craving the blood.

“Namjoon,” You know he has the ability to basically numb his pray out, but you were already sleepy and you’re about to pass out, “I know you-...I know you’re doing that thing to take away the pain, but I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

He acknowledges you with a hum, but instead of stopping, he just drinks slower. Instead of complaining, you take the bratty liberty to push all of your weight back. He loses his bearings for a second, but he doesn’t let your tactic stop him. He just gets on top of you and continues, holding your hands to the ground and finishing the last few gulps of blood.

“Ah,” He pulls away with a pop, “you’re so dramatic.” He sits back on his heels, smiling down at your flat expression. “Can you walk?”

“No, my legs are numb. You should know, you made them numb.” You sulk, trying to move your head up but even that felt numb.

“I was trying to make it comfortable for you, its not my fault that you succumb to it so willingly.”

“Whatever...” You sigh, eyes slipping shut.

He scoops you up in his arms and walks you to your bedroom. He pushes the door open with his foot and easily lays you in bed, covering you with a blanket. Namjoon pats your head with a fond smile and leaves.

Jungkook was drinking his second portion of blood and all of a sudden, he heard the most disturbing statement—goodnight, kitten.

He nearly choked.

“The hell?”

Yoongi and Hoseok glance at him from their spots on the couch, brows furrowed when the young vampire sits up.

“Uhm, what’s the matter?” Hoseok looks up from his phone, judgment engraved in his features.

Jungkook looks puzzled. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“You mean you didn’t just hear that?” He looks at both of them. “Neither of you heard that?”

“Jungkook, heard what? What are you talking about?”

“I heard, ‘goodnight, kitten,” like, very clearly.”

Yoongi looks at him. “Goodnight, kitten? That’s what you heard?” Jungkook nods surprised that Yoongi even acknowledges him. “The only person who I’ve ever heard say something even close to that, is Namjoon. That’s what he calls Y/n. Why would you be hearing that?”

“Yeah, are you sure you aren’t imagining things?”

Jungkook scowls, disgusted that they would even consider that he would think that. “Why would I even want to imagine someone saying that to me??

“I don’t know, we all have intrusive thoughts that might sound weird to others.” Hoseok snickers, going back to his phone.

“I don’t know why I would be hearing that,” Jungkook mutters, giving up on trying to find an explanation. He goes back to watching his movie but Yoongi looks away from his book in thought.

There are times where he’d connect with your consciousness and it was rare, but sometimes, he could hear when others spoke to you. Is Jungkook connecting with you? But how could that be? You and Jungkook haven’t bonded and you’re hundreds of miles away. Assuming Namjoon is on the trip with you, then it would make perfect sense for Namjoon to be the voice he heard.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the island.

“Director, I prepared your flower-petal-soak in the sauna,” Yona, one of his personal maids peeks into his quarters, she’s a short little girl with short brown hair, “do you need assistance?”

He’s adorned in a luxurious robe, it’s opened in the front and she tries not to look at his bare chest. His fingernails are long and pointy, he let them grow out recently. Traditionally, power-bearing Jeons are known for their luscious locks and long manicured nails. His long black hair drapes down his back, some strands fall on his face and it makes her swallow—he’s stunning.

“I can manage, thank you, Yona.” She bows, leaving the director to do what he needed to do. He left his room and went down the stone pathway to the natural sauna.

He undresses and sits his robe on a marble stool near the water. The water is filled with freshly picked flowers and he steps into the steamy oasis. “Ugh...” He sighs, sinking down into the water and leaning back on the ledge, inhaling the floral fragrance.

“Master Rain, may I come in?”

“You may, Lilian.” He looks up at her.

“I have a few updates for you, do you want me to read it to you here? or in your bedroom?”

“Here is fine.” He gestures for her to have a seat.

“Okay, I’ll read the updates of the board, then the extra things.”

Lilian reads off of the papers, reciting the same old updates as always, but she says something that catches his attention.

“Wait, what was that?”

“Dr. Kim is on the other side of the island on a botany trip. You also have an appointment with him late this week for your nephew.”

“He’s here? Hm,” He sighs, tapping his nails thoughtfully, “can you squeeze a meeting in with him tomorrow, at any time.”

“Sure sir,” She writes some things down and nods, “may I ask why?”

“I need to talk to him about my nephew and a few other things.” She nods, satisfied with his answer.

And you would be other things.

taglist: @hodginss @forevermoremagcon

190 notes · View notes

sleepymarmot · 4 years ago

Text

My reactions to Clive Barker’s The Forbidden. Under the cut I end up quoting like half of it because I have no self-control.

Surprisingly, Trevor’s relationship with Helen is very fleshed out, and he plays a major part in her initial motivation for the investigation. Also, nice setting description!

It was a chilly business. She was not an expert photographer, and the late October sky was in full flight, shifting the light on the bricks from one moment to the next. As she adjusted and readjusted the exposure to compensate for the light changes, her fingers steadily became clumsier, her temper correspondingly thinner. But she struggled on, the idle curiosity of passersby notwithstanding. There were so many designs to document. She reminded herself that her present discomfort would be amply repaid when she showed the slides to Trevor, whose doubt of the project's validity had been perfectly apparent from the beginning.

"The writing on the wall?" he'd said, half smiling in that irritating fashion of his. "It's been done a hundred times."

The mural is just as impressive as it is in the movie. Honestly, I halfway expected it not to be in the short story at all -- it’s such a cinematic image.

Here, the artists had also been at work, but had produced an image the like of which she had not seen anywhere else. Using the door, which was centrally placed in the wall like a mouth, the artists had sprayed a single, vast head onto the stripped plaster. The painting was more adroit than most she had seen, rife with detail that lent the image an unsettling veracity. The cheekbones jutting through skin the color of buttermilk; the teeth, sharpened to irregular points, all converging on the door. The sitter's eyes were, owing to the room's low ceiling, set mere inches above the upper lip, but this physical adjustment only lent force to the image, giving the impression that he had thrown his head back. Knotted strands of his hair snaked from his scalp across the ceiling. [...]

Was it a portrait? There was something naggingly specific in the details of the brows and the lines around the wide mouth; in the careful picturing of those vicious teeth. A nightmare certainly: a facsimile, perhaps, of something from a heroin fugue. Whatever its origins, it was potent. Even the illusion of door-as-mouth worked. The short passageway between living room and bedroom offered a passable throat, with a tattered lamp in lieu of tonsils. Beyond the gullet, the day burned white in the nightmare's belly. The whole effect brought to mind a ghost train painting. The same heroic deformity, the same unashamed intention to scare. And it worked; she stood in the bedroom almost stupefied by the picture, its red-rimmed eyes fixing her mercilessly.

After the entire beginning of the story set in the haunted neighbourhood, an absolutely stunning cut to the daily life of the Rich Intellectuals. I laughed out loud at the fancy italian name of whatever food that is, it was so jarring after the vivid descriptions of poverty and misery:

"The man apparently had a hook instead of a hand."

Trevor looked up from his plate of tagliatelle con prosciutto. "Beg your pardon?"

More of the Very Functional and Satisfying Marriage!

Helen had been at pains to keep her recounting of this story as uncolored by her own response as she could. She was interested to know what Trevor would make of it, and she knew that if she once signaled her own stance he would instinctively take an opposing view out of plain bloody-mindedness.

"He had a hook," she repeated, without inflection.

The story keeps bringing up how Helen and her circle are privileged and liberal. On another note, congratulations on being haunted! (I’m pretty sure in the movie this realization is shifted to the scene where she listens to Candyman’s horrific backstory, her expression distant and her face washed in a romantic soft filter.)

Why did it matter? Was it that she wanted to have her worst feelings about Spector Street proved false? That such an estate be filthy, be hopeless, be a dump where the undesirable and the disadvantaged were tucked out of public view—all that was a liberal commonplace, and she accepted it as an unpalatable social reality. But the story of the old man's murder and mutilation was something other. An image of violent death that, once with her, refused to part from her company.

The book makes a point of saying that Helen feels alienated both by her own hollow world of academia, and the hostile impoverished world of the neighbourhood...

The suggestion that she investigate was not a bad one, though doubtless he had ulterior motives for offering it. She viewed Trevor less charitably day by day. What she had once thought in him a fierce commitment to debate she now recognized as mere power-play. He argued, not for the thrill of dialectic, but because he was pathologically competitive. She had seen him, time and again, take up attitudes she knew he did not espouse, simply to spill blood. Nor, more's the pity, was he alone in this sport. Academe was one of the last strongholds of the professional time-waster. On occasion their circle seemed entirely dominated by educated fools, lost in a wasteland of stale rhetoric and hollow commitment.

From one wasteland to another.

...And the only thing that electrifies her is Candyman’s portrait.

She made her way to number 14 and spent the next hour in its befouled confines, meticulously photographing both the bedroom and living-room walls. She had half expected the impact of the head in the bedroom to be dulled by reacquaintance. It was not. Though she struggled to capture its scale and detail as best she could, she knew the photographs would be at best a dim echo of its perpetual howl.

Much of its power lay in its context, of course. That such an image might be stumbled upon in surroundings so drab, so conspicuously lacking in mystery, was akin to finding an icon on a rubbish heap: a gleaming symbol of transcendence from a world of toil and decay into some darker but more tremendous realm. She was painfully aware that the intensity of her response probably defied her articulation. Her vocabulary was analytic, replete with buzz-words and academic terminology, but woefully impoverished when it came to evocation. The photographs, pale as they would be, would, she hoped, at least hint at the potency of this picture, even if they couldn't conjure up the way it froze the bowels.

Reflection on the nature of the monster and why he needs to stay mysterious:

Standing in front of the charmless building, the wind gusting around her legs, she couldn't help but think of what had happened here. Of the man-child, bleeding on the floor, helpless to cry out. It made her queasy even to contemplate it. She turned her thoughts instead to the felon. What would he look like, she wondered, a man capable of such a depravity? She tried to make an image of him, but no detail she could conjure up carried sufficient force. But then monsters were seldom very terrible once hauled into the plain light of day. As long as this man was known only by his deeds he held untold power over the imagination; but the human truth beneath the terrors would, she knew, be bitterly disappointing. No monster he, just a whey-faced apology for a man more needful of pity than awe.

Helen enjoys scandalizing the Polite Company with the horrors she has learned, and I say, good for her!

The dinner guests looked gratifyingly appalled at the story, and Trevor, to judge by the expression on his face, was furious. It was done now, however; there was no taking it back. Nor could she deny the satisfaction she took in having silenced the interdepartmental babble about the table. It was Bernadette, Trevor's assistant in the history department, who broke the agonizing hush.

Unlike the movie, by the beginning of the story, Helen and Trevor’s relationship has fallen apart almost completely. He’s cheating openly, and she can’t bring herself to care, especially now that she has discovered something (or someone) more interesting. More haunted.

She didn't go back to Spector Street until the following Monday, but all weekend she was there in thought: standing outside the locked toilet, with the wind bringing rain; or in the bedroom, the portrait looming. Thoughts of the estate claimed all her concern. When, late on Saturday afternoon, Trevor found some petty reason for an argument, she let the insults pass, watching him perform the familiar ritual of self-martyrdom without being touched by it in the least. Her indifference only enraged him further. He stormed out in high dudgeon, to visit whichever of his women was in favor this month. She was glad to see the back of him. When he failed to return that night she didn't even think of weeping about it. He was foolish and vacuous. She despaired of ever seeing a haunted look in his dull eyes; and what worth was a man who could not be haunted?

He did not return Sunday night either, and it crossed her mind the following morning, as she parked the car in the heart of the estate, that nobody even knew she had come, and that she might lose herself for days here and nobody would be any the wiser. Like the old man Anne-Marie had told her about: lying forgotten in his favorite armchair with his eyes hooked out, while the flies feasted and the butter went rancid on the table.

More self-awareness!

Frustrated to the verge of tears, she stood among the overturned rubbish bags and felt a surge of contempt for her foolishness. She didn't belong here, did she? How many times had she criticized others for their presumption in claiming to understand societies they had merely viewed from afar? And here was she, committing the same crime, coming here with her camera and her questions, using the lives (and deaths) of these people as fodder for party conversation. She didn't blame Anne-Marie for turning her back; had she deserved better?

Helen is really in love with that painting:

One call demanded to be made before she returned to the car however: she wanted to look a final time at the painted head. Not as an anthropologist among an alien tribe, but as a confessed ghost train rider: for the thrill of it.

And yet, as much as she loves the thrill of looking at disturbing art, she draws the line at gawking at real death:

She turned her back on the woman and jostled her way out of the crowd. There would be nothing to see, she knew, and even if there had been she had no desire to look. These people—still emerging from their homes as the story spread—were exhibiting an appetite she was disgusted by. She was not one of them; would never be one of them. She wanted to slap every eager face into sense; wanted to say: "It's pain and grief you're going to spy on. Why? Why?" But she had no courage left. Revulsion had drained her of all but the energy to wander away, leaving the crowd to its sport.

Haunted!

"Forget the dog," Trevor said. "And the child. There's nothing you can do about it. You were just passing through."

His words only echoed her own thoughts of earlier in the day, but somehow, for reasons that she could find no words to convey, that conviction had decayed in the last hours. She was not just passing through. Nobody ever just passed through; experience always left its mark. Sometimes it merely scratched; on occasion it took off limbs. She did not know the extent of her present wounding, but she knew it was more profound than she yet understood, and it made her afraid.

Haunted so much that the neighbourhood feels like home now:

Nor was it simply the presence of so many people that reassured her; she was, she conceded to herself, happy to be back here in Spector Street. The quadrangles, with their stunted saplings and their gray grass, were more real to her than the carpeted corridors she was used to walking; the anonymous faces on the balconies and streets meant more than her colleagues at the university. In a word, she felt home.

Helen feels transformed already. And straight up goes on a date with that painted face...

She reached the maisonette and was surprised to find the door open again, as it had been the first time she'd come here. The sight of the interior made her light-headed. How often in the past several days had she imagined standing here, gazing into that darkness. There was no sound from inside. The dog had surely run off—either that, or died. There could be no harm, could there, in stepping into the place one final time, just to look at the face on the wall, and its attendant slogan?

"Sweets to the sweet." She had never looked up the origins of that phrase. No matter, she thought. Whatever it had stood for once, it was transformed here, as everything was; herself included. She stood in the front room for a few moments, to allow herself time to savor the confrontation ahead. Far away behind her the children were screeching like mad birds.

She stepped over a clutter of furniture and toward the short corridor that joined living room to bedroom, still delaying the moment. Her heart was quick in her: a smile played on her lips.

And there! At last! The portrait loomed, compelling as ever. She stepped back in the murky room to admire it more fully and her heel caught on the mattress that still lay in the corner.

I like how the hypnosis is explained as a sleepiness of a warm summer afternoon among flowers and bees.

She turned, and the light in the bedroom diminished as a figure stepped into the gullet between her and the outside world. Silhouetted against the light, she could scarcely see the man in the doorway, but she smelled him. He smelled like cotton candy, and the buzzing was with him or in him.

"I just came to look," she said, "... at the picture."

The buzzing went on—the sound of a sleepy afternoon, far from here. The man in the doorway did not move.

The emphasis on the overwhelming sweetness is very different from the movie.

The buzzing had quieted a little, and in the hush the man in the doorway spoke. His unaccented voice was almost as sweet as his scent.

"No need to leave yet," he breathed.

"I'm due ... due ..."

Though she couldn't see his eyes, she felt them on her, and they made her feel drowsy, like that summer that sang in her head.

"I came for you," he said.

She repeated the four words in her head. I came for you. If they were meant as a threat, they certainly weren't spoken as one.

I am delighted to learn that Book Candyman looks like a clown. Very funny how his entire aesthetic was flipped 180 degrees to Tall Dark and Handsome for the movie. The original certainly makes the imagery more consistent!

"I came for you," he murmured so softly that seduction might have been in the air. And so saying, he moved through the passageway and into the light.

She knew him, without doubt. She had known him all along, in that place kept for terrors. It was the man on the wall. His portrait painter had not been a fantasist: the picture that howled over her was matched in each extraordinary particular by the man she now set eyes upon. He was bright to the point of gaudiness: his flesh a waxy yellow, his thin lips pale blue, his wild eyes glittering as if their irises were set with rubies. His jacket was a patchwork, his trousers the same. He looked, she thought, almost ridiculous, with his blood-stained motley, and the hint of rouge on his jaundiced cheeks. But people were facile. They needed these shows and shams to keep their interest. Miracles; murders; demons driven out and stones rolled from tombs. The cheap glamour did not taint the sense beneath. It was only, in the natural history of the mind, the bright feathers that drew the species to mate with its secret self.

And she was almost enchanted. By his voice, by his colors, by the buzz from his body. She fought to resist the rapture, though. There was a monster here, beneath this fetching display; its nest of razors was at her feet, still drenched in blood. Would it hesitate to slit her own throat if it once laid hands on her?

Book Helen seems to find Candyman’s offer more appealing than her movie counterpart:

"If you would learn," the fiend said, "just a little from me ... you would not beg to live." His voice had dropped to a whisper. "I am rumor," he sang in her ear. "It's a blessed condition, believe me. To live in people's dreams; to be whispered at street corners, but not have to be. Do you understand?"

Her weary body understood. Her nerves, tired of jangling, understood. The sweetness he offered was life without living: was to be dead, but remembered everywhere; immortal in gossip and graffiti.

This dialogue makes much more sense as a single scene than it did as scattered dialogue in the film. I don’t think in the film he ever insist he won’t force death on her, which is fair, because he sure does absolutely everything to push her to the brink!

"I won't force it upon you," he replied, the perfect gentleman. "I won't oblige you to die. But think; think. If I kill you here—if I unhook you"—he traced the path of the promised wound with his hook; it ran from groin to neck—"think how they would mark this place with their talk ... point it out as they passed by and say, 'She died there, the woman with the green eyes.' Your death would be a parable to frighten children with. Lovers would use it as an excuse to cling closer together."

She had been right: this was a seduction.

"Was fame ever so easy?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I'd prefer to be forgotten," she replied, "than be remembered like that."

He made a tiny shrug. "What do the good know?" he said. "Except what the bad teach them by their excesses?" He raised his hooked hand. "I said I would not oblige you to die and I'm true to my word. Allow me, though, a kiss at least...."

Oh, so Helen fainted during the kiss on purpose:

The hook was at her neck. If she so much as moved it would wound her. She was trapped, as in her childhood nightmares, with every chance of escape stymied. When sleep had brought her to such hopelessness—the demons on every side, waiting to tear her limb from limb—one trick remained. To let go; to give up all ambition to life, and leave her body to the dark. Now, as the Candyman's face pressed to hers, and the sound of bees blotted out even her own breath, she played that hidden hand. And, as surely as in dreams, the room and the fiend were painted out and gone.

The residents actively conspired against Helen. Which is interesting, because I thought the point of faith in Candyman was that nobody knew the truth for sure. I guess they acted on their own volition, never interacting with him directly?

They were crazy, these people. They had known all along what her presence in Butts' Court had summoned, and they had protected him—this honeyed psychopath; given him a bed and an offering of bonbons, hidden him away from plying eyes, and kept their silence when he brought blood to their doorsteps. Even Anne-Marie, dry-eyed in the hallway of her house, knowing that her child was dead a few yards away. [...]

She could just make out Anne-Marie's figure, moving to the edge of the piled timbers and furniture, and ducking to climb into its heart. This was how they planned to remove the evidence. To bury the child was not certain enough; but to cremate it, and pulverize the bones—who would ever know? [...]

She fought to be free of him, to cry out for them not to light the bonfire, but he held her lovingly close. The light grew: warmth came with it; and through the kindling and the first flames she could see figures approaching the pyre out of the darkness of Butts' Court. They had been there all along: waiting, the lights turned out in their homes, and broken all along the corridors. Their final conspiracy.

The bonfire caught with a will, but by some trick of its construction the flames did not invade her hiding place quickly; nor did the smoke creep through the furniture to choke her. She was able to watch how the children's faces gleamed; how the parents called them from going too close, and how they disobeyed; how the old women, their blood thin, warmed their hands and smiled into the flames. Presently the roar and the crackle became deafening, and the Candyman let her scream herself hoarse in the certain knowledge that nobody could hear her, and even if they had, would not have moved to claim her from the fire.

Apparently, the pile of sweets and razors was a summoning ritual. Also, even though Helen doesn’t outright win as in the movie, she is effectively seduced to accept her fate:

Soon the heat crept down Helen's throat and scorched her pleas away. She sank back, exhausted, into the Candyman's arms, resigned to his triumph. In moments they would be on their way, as he had promised, and there was no help for it.

Perhaps they would remember her, as he had said they might, finding her cracked skull in tomorrow's ashes. Perhaps she might become, in time, a story with which to frighten children. She had lied, saying she preferred death to such questionable fame. She did not. As to her seducer, he laughed as the conflagration sniffed them out. There was no permanence for him in this night's death. His deeds were on a hundred walls and ten thousand lips, and should he be doubted again his congregation could summon him with sweetness. He had reason to laugh.

I’m glad Book Helen still feels the power over Trevor.

So, as the flames crept upon them, did she, as through the fire she caught sight of a familiar face moving between the onlookers. It was Trevor. He had forsaken his meal at Apollinaire's and come looking for her.

She watched him questioning this fire watcher and that, but they shook their heads, all the while staring at the pyre with smiles buried in their eyes. Poor dupe, she thought, following his antics. She willed him to look past the flames in the hope that he might see her burning. Not so that he could save her from death—she was long past hope of that—but because she pitied him in his bewilderment and wanted to give him, though he would not have thanked her for it, something to be haunted by. That, and a story to tell.

Alright, here’s my takeaway:

I liked the short story more than I expected! Didn’t think I’d enjoy a version of this story without the racial tension or the victorious ending, which were central to the movie experience. But even the short story’s more tragic ending doesn’t read entirely like a defeat. Which is helped by Candyman’s pursuit of Helen being much less horrifying and predatory than in the movie. The first meeting, the kiss, the bonfire are all a single sequence, unlike the movie, where he repeatedly hypnotizes her, terrorizes her, and systematically and purposefully destroys her life. This makes the dialogue between them flow better, too. So overall, I’d say I liked both the original and the screen adaptation, and neither of them really diminished my appreciation of the other, which for me is pretty significant praise.

#candyman #the forbidden #blah blah blah

3 notes · View notes

rwmhunt · 4 years ago

Text

Leviticus, Chapter 23

1. Substitute day, and a return unto A sender of something, as to another place, That hasn't the wherewithal to get there either; I will open it again and learn That which is already known to be such As isn't so much.

2. And it's not mine, but a, And is the right way round. For as I set the seasons, I reprise, reply, replay; It's substitution day.

3. And Sabbath is the seventh, Whence the lord, in all thy dwellings, Is up for doing nothing; Or Sabbath is the sixth; I don't care.

4. And welcome to my channel, It's great to have each of you still with me- A man who speaks of people By their purpose, Himself as his own singer, With- such are the seasons, Even, holy convocations, For want to be sure of a constant, It's Senhal, An obscure term For an old friend.

5. Love, love, lo, this is not Of a cloven love, Leviticus, I will speak of it Unto sundry strangers and neighbours, As just one more month's dusk Then it'll be passover, Not once. Not twice, Not once. Love. So we can still imagine a time When all of this will go again;

6. But a day will approach When, if there is something That can look back, Could think that 'here' and 'then' Are really very close;- And I wonder if they saw The strings of direct attachment, Lining their behaviours; Just flour and water, But I don't think so; Still, anytime was closer to history than this one, So what do I know?

7. If I were to put the onus On to the impossible, Then what was light-hearted and playful, Would be wont to become ridden and surly; Lord, being an influencer is a serious endeavour, For how many unsuccessful oblations are there That are out there? Lo, state your appreciation; Don’t just wing it. Plan it out in kalends, Of which are reckon'd to be backwards; so, To start, do nothing.

8. After a week, Let's go- Gift your influencers' grift, For, when you so do this, It strokes the ego of the flames, Who then add unto the savour of sacrifice, Thus, get me it up; Make it smolder, Then, use its fatal nature To activate the future.

9. And simple: These are nacks, To muster control Over gods; Are junk and have been; That we all have interest vested- Let ignorance of it control Hereafter, same, so anon and amen.

10. Crowdsplain- First fruit the priest Hard and long, Find the tunnels, Writing what's impossible For the brain to conceive, That it may then be read back of, To supplant and supersede; So become possible.

11. And thither, the Wheatchief Will wave the sheaf Tomorrow- See how it goes? Ol' Cathode Ray, and Non-mathmatical aesthetic identities, The spirit of the radio take her.

12. That once the sheaf And all the while Be specific unto thy niche- Nativize unto thy platform, For, the experience shall follow The rhyzome's swerve and function, So that the user-expectation be wrought From whence the contents be placed- In this case, Add in a lamb shank ponzi scheme to my platform; Smells wonderful.

13. So unto the titular character, Exerting such low level leverage as Begetteth me of an ephah cake, And a quarter hin of wine; I don't need the free stuff, I am a successful influencer, But shouldst you want me to advertise for suckers On my platform that I have built myself for free; Well, we're all getting along so good.

14. Then it's me first, And simple: see- That our boldest endeavours, And most exciting adventures- They have not yet even begun; That, in spite of all the detritus, In the teeth of all that we've done, my boys, I tell you: The best Is yet To come.

15. Then, 49 days later, Seek whence Thought might come in sequence, And I'm really so blessed and thankful to you all for being here; So, as thought comes in sequence And thus, it wasn't known where We are going here as we begun. O tensions, retensions- I use to used to run.

16. Know, influencers, I am the hype; So on-brand that I can give unto you, And through you, the trick- Pyramid that still stands For the thousands- Round it up; So nice.

17. And, super relevant- Optimize continuously, also, Compensate me handsomely; while Sacrifice may seem like a quick-success marketing strategy, It isn’t so. Such are the things that keep not happening; More food please.

18. Lots more, This is why the burden of proof for rhetorical claim Shall falleth shortly As among the Open Wounde who should maketh of such a claim; It is not upon the world to provide him a fallacy, But he, who's to prove the world its truth; which, Across all channels, He, rerewise, hath been completely unable to do.

19. So suffer him his own precarity; And then some; Think back to when, Twirrup twipip,-pwiwip, Suwee, psu, swoo swsoo, So sweepeth they in song, As we, quiet, Through our blossom comedown, That hideth our tiny singers, And the bulgence behind the wiltage, In the verges, Be of burgeoning seed.

20. And everyone wave; All this- so good as is it to be; And though under a hail Of black tormentors, Our torment, And through its over-drone, With no one remembering it happening, But, who'll remember the photograph?

21. Sit back; You've lost everything, So lo, olah, you remember how mother died- Bringing cow parsley into the tent of meaning; For she went by the umbels as we'd walked on the plain, And they had reminded her of those lace cushions That her ladies-in-waiting had carried, And so gave them the name.

22. Embassadors, Leave thy corners to disillusion; A true influencer ideally keeps doing What they genuinely gain of a passion for. They know their value and their need is not to shew it, So spend a lot of time reading news and sharing opinions with others online. By buying-up dozens of potential plots, They help to plot the exodus to less, And stake an astronaut over the shape of a woman. But politics isn’t about the weird worship of one dude, So his words became their actions.

23. Is it worth your time To try and ignore that, if, What you are listening to Is the most effective form of advertising- A babbling of a technique That hath impostulated language, Then, should things go well, We may even be able to rend a cross-paracleation With phantom trust-collaborators, Interested in guest-posting for backlinks and exposure, Thus, marrying into micro-influencers, And so tap into our y.

24. But be consistent: For my favourite casts come out the same- Here, crowdplain how a seventh month is a Sound the trumpet month; See how it goes? Lo, but half of me struggles with the whimsy Of the other side that's yet so entranced; No, I'm not sure why, it's just the way I feel.

25. Down tools, more please. Gnaw your own head off. All things positivity- and It is always negotiation; Not: You bring it to the tabernacle, I sing- There is no shortness of spirit In opinion To be cut down. Equal positives, so unto Those things that keep not happening.

26. There are voices you hear of, As quoted as begetters of insightful opinion, Who art themselves never made extant, Being only reported hereto as sources, And lo, that they are the influencers. And I'm super curious as to know what you guys think; Please be sure to leave your comments amid the margins.

27. Thence, afflict thy souls, For, tis atonement day- We're ten into the seventh, And the snap's back when I was An offensive lineman, And the pass sent over- The big lie, long, long to the long deceiver, Ah, burnt offerings- How original, Best look unto the analytics, And if they give you not access there unto , Verily, you are going to have to fight, Fight as peaceful as Sheol, Down, deep down and dirty- I'm not going to call it off.

28. Down tools; Atone to the dial tone, No one calls; Let Ladder Capital Createth of the sponsored post- Like many on the medium, To use an ode- I used to play the role; To laugh and laugh; Laugh til I despised all there was to laugh at, And then I stopped, And in the silence, saw what I had done.

29. But laughing is not so bad.

We've been a good wee band. Yes we have. No one is coming after us. And if you're alright, mack, You'll get cut off.

30. So workers got destroyed That day, And Aaron was frustrated, And livid. Reach round; Feel thy spine. The way people stop you From being helpful When you are helpful, So that you cannot be helpful, So that they can cut you From your people.

31. Tardiness in perpetuity, Aye, today, it is Yplangenday- Well, I'll have to put myself Through some more adamantine Paces than god allows, else I'll never get enough done.

32. And be bold, For, you'll need to deracinate; Chancers are toxic vocations Within the tent of meaning; It's content; it's all content- Divide and game, so- Focus and grow. I mean to make sure That you are a consistent- Start of the ninth evening , End of the next.

33. God doesn't eat though, That I can see- For all that we give him, God doesn't eat.

34. Crowd, 15/7, and tabernacle feast week; Still his words became their actions, Shrill, until the doctrine of laches, When the searched-after Faithless elector went libertarian, Like many on the medium, Clade unto such bolled and novel obstacles What stretched where chance was slim, And slim was still in quarantine.

35. To start again, down tools, For, lo, if you want to be in a prison camp, You needst allow yourself the luxury Of being stupid enough to get captured.

36. Sacrifice? Spluttereth the LORD: But I'm fed up with so much burnt rubbish, I wish for forced fresh rhubarb, So shunt and jive; I've Optimized, and optimize continuously.

37. Drinks break; take life indicting, Gratify all at a local craven hire scheme, Go abroad singing, so merrylike, To slough off the whole As one enormous rhyzome. Deus Hic! God is drunk! I heard that, Brian Leg-Coverall.

38. O well done Jehus, And good to be with you, Yes you, Who are good in a crisis; A reminder- I'm working with mischief.

39. Wait, rest again, To live is to live through An embarrassment of times, Damarkated as meaningful riches, That will not be well remembered. Really, I am so blessed.

40. But try to ask of a question; So that thy congregation Might make communion in answer, See how it goes? Say, But why, isn't it A bit like palm sunday? The stream changeth its name As it passeth through each neighbourhood. I knew it as; Well it doesn't matter- You're not reposting, nor liking my banal repartee, So, unfollow.

41. And it goes; for I have giv'n unto them a scapegoat, But they cast it not out; So shall there be a reaving that will follow, and Themselves, they shall be cut off from.

42. Then all ye home-born booth dwellers In dwelling booths, Shall dwell in booths seven days and know That you are living in the rhyzome..

43. And everyone will know that I made you do this- The old booth dwellers, needing my rescue out of Egypt, So weakened, the Open Wounde stayeth open; And remember to tell us what you think, Way down, deep down, down in the margins.

44. And Mose went about with the crowdsplaining Old loud-haler; A simple fellow out of storybook glen, From the tent of meaning, From the twilight men, He ran and told- And the thing is, They were too clever To not know what they were doing- So the target becomes bios; Is the common psychle, The answer- How would you like it? Is - 'I didn't'. And that therein has a hold and salience, As before tends to be the best time to regret- It is a kind of nonsense. I'm so merry

I'm so merry and sad.

2 notes · View notes

letsnotdoanything · 5 years ago

Text

The smiles you gave me

Heyah~

I’m sorry for posting only short timestamps for some time but I didn't have much time to write due to school and the concert. I didn’t want to publish something without even checking it before. :v

I actually wrote this without anyone in mind, but as I finished I just couldn’t imagine putting in anyone else than Sungjin...

Hope you enjoy!

he kept doing weird faces during the whole concert dbhkjhsdehi i love this dork

Pairing: Sungjin x reader

Genre: Fluff

Words: 1,7K

To: Y/N Y/S/N

From: Sungjin

The smiles you gave me

The first one was an awkward smile,

It was the first one I saw and the one that made me fall in love with you. It’s been four years since then, yet it feels as if it was yesterday. I remember everything exactly - your embarrassed expression, untied shoelaces and hair tangled from the wind. Yet, you still were the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.

You were running down the street holding your books for your dear life. It was the last day when you could give applications for your dream university and you overslept, so now you had 40 minutes to get there. The bus you had to take to be on time was already closing its doors and the next one would be there in 20 minutes, so you had no other choice. Thankfully, the bus driver was nice enough to wait for a girl that clearly wasn’t friends with physical activities. Well, at least you tried, right? You got in on the full speed not caring if you would hit something, which was a mistake because that’s exactly what you did. Actually, not something but someone. A very attractive someone to be exact. “Woah, you good?” He said holding your arm to help you stand straight. “Your face is all red.” You run a hand through your hair trying to fix it as you looked at the stranger. Well, if you were red earlier then now you must look like a splendid beetroot. “Yes, I-I mean no… I mean you-” you couldn’t figure out what words you should choose to not make yourself look like a fool more than you already did, but you gave up when he chuckled. You knew you were already humiliated anyways. “Yeah, I just didn’t want to miss the bus. I’m sorry for hitting you.” You gave him an apologetic smile, still embarrassed from the situation, which he returned. “What about going to a café after you’re done with whatever you’re late for? You know, to compensate for bumping into me.”

The second one was a loving smile,

It was after our second date as a couple, when I kissed you for the first time. Your eyes were shining brighter than the stars above us all together and at this moment, I knew that I have found the one.

“Thank you for today, the pasta was amazing.” You said turning your face to him when you got to your apartment. You didn’t want it to end, you had a very good time with him. You played with your fingers, looking down and sighted. “I’m sad it’s over, I don’t want you to leave…” He smiled slightly at your pouty face.He grabbed your chin with two fingers, looking into your eyes deeply. You glared into his dark eyes in awe, they were so beautiful you could stare at them for hours without getting tired. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m back home, okay?” You felt warm when he let go of your chin to place his hand on your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “Actually, I have something for you.” You looked at him, curious about what might it be. You didn’t know what to expect, but for sure not that he would bend to your height and press his warm lips to yours. He stayed like that for a few seconds before pulling away. Your shocked expression was quickly replaced by a soft grin that stayed there for the rest of the evening. “Well, that definitely doesn’t make letting you go easier.”

The third one was a laughing smile,

The one you showed every time I said something you found funny, even if no one else did. That’s one of the things I love you for, I’ve always felt so lucky to have someone who has the same humor as me.

You shot your head back with a loud laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. You loved your boyfriend’s sense of humor, his jokes always were hilariously funny. You fell back on the couch, trying to stop laughing but it seemed funnier every time you repeated it in your head. Your chest was jumping up and down quickly making your stomach muscles sore. You finally calmed down after some time and took a few deep breaths, wiping the tears that gathered in your eyes. You sat straight and looked around to see all your friends, and even Sungjin himself looking at you as if you were crazy. “What? It was funny!”

The fourth one was teasing smile,

This one was the most different, there was something in it that made it impossible to contain myself. You showed it when your mischievous side came out, and honestly, I loved it every time it did.

It was definitely your good day, you felt confident and playful and you didn’t hesitate to use it against your boyfriend. You started your provoking marathon by walking around the house in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts that were barely covering your assets. You enjoyed seeing him avoiding your eyes sheepishly so you went on to “accidentally” dropping things and bending over to grab them, making sure to wiggle your butt while doing it. He remained calm when you did it for the first time. He started getting suspicious after the second attempt. He tolerated the third one. But the fourth one, it was the final straw. “Ah, Y/N, stop it already!” Sungjin raised his voice unintentionally, a little annoyed by the effect you have on him. He didn’t know that you were that playful and he didn’t like how you made him blush and stutter so effortlessly. You smirked and crossed your arms on your chest, knowing you achieved your goal. Normally you would do what he asked you to but today you let yourself go a little overboard. “Make me.”

The fifth one was a fake smile,

The one that you gave me during our worst fight, after I said something I regret to this day. I think I won’t ever be able to tell you how sorry I was, and still am.

You two rarely argued, barely ever, but the past few weeks were very stressful for both of you. Your boss was giving you much more work since a few of your co-workers left and Sungjin’s head was occupied by his upcoming promotions. That’s why you talked much less and if you did, it was a short exchange of “how are you" and "fine, thanks”. But this time was different, your conversation didn’t end after two sentences but it turned into a heated argument instead. Neither of you actually remembered the original reason why the fight started, new topics were just appearing one after the other and didn’t seem to end. “So it’s my fault now, huh?!” You threw your arms in the air out of frustration. You weren’t yourself at that moment, all the emotions that gathered inside of you had taken control. “Well, it’s you who’s been acting like a fucking moody teenager!” His words echoed in your head for a few seconds when you tried to understand what just happened. You’d never expect that something as little would hurt so much if said by someone you loved. Your heart ached and you felt as if your stomach did a full flip, causing sudden nausea. “You’re right, I should leave now.” You fake-smiled and turned your back to him immediately, going towards the door of your apartment. You didn’t bother looking at him before going out, which might have been a mistake. If you would have turned around you would have seen the tears and guilt all over his face.

The sixth one is

________________________________________

You turned the paper around to see if there was anything else written on the other side, but it was clear. You were a little confused since all of the previous ones were written as the past, yet this sentence ended with “is”. What could that mean? And why didn’t he finish it?

“The sixth one is the one I hope to see in a moment…” you heard a voice behind you, which made you jump and turn around almost immediately after. You saw Sungjin standing there in your favorite white shirt, holding a small velvet box. His hair was styled elegantly and you could smell his cologne and hair spray. Your throat clenched and you were struggling to get out any sound, so you just stood there with your mouth open. It made him laugh a little. “You know, I’ve wanted to do it for some time now…” he crouched down on one knee in front of you, took your hand in his holding the box in the other one, and looked you in the eyes. “Y/N, I’ve never thought that someone bumping into me would change not only my life, but also me. I know I’m a better person when you’re by my side, I need you more than anything else. Your smiles are the most wonderful thing I’ve seen in my life, I wish I could see them every time I close my eyes in the night and when I open them in the morning. I want to learn more about you. I want to know more of your smiles and more of your little habits that no one else knows about. You’re like a book I never want to close. Y/N Y/S/N, would you do the honor and let me read it for the rest of my life?’’

You could hear your heartbeat increase, it felt like your heart was going to burst your chest. You covered your mouth with your hand to muffle the sobs you weren’t able to control. Seconds passed, yet to Sungjin it felt like hours. His lips were pressed tight and his eyebrows furrowed in anticipation as he waited for you to do something, give him any sign. You realized that you still didn’t give him an answer and you felt bad for making him so nervous, so you crouched down next to him and looked straight into his eyes. It felt the as if it was your first kiss he wrote about - his dark eyes were shining brightly and seemed to be so full of love they could explode. You murmured a quiet, yet meaningful “yes’’ and wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him as if it was your last goodbye. However, it was only the beginning of something completely new and beautiful.

58 notes · View notes

soybeantree · 5 years ago

Text

a baby changes everything

pairing: do kyungsoo x (reader)

genre/warning: artificial insemination, drama

word count: 2.3k+

description: when you decided to have a baby, you knew everything would change, but this is not what you expected...

a/n: november installment of our ‘trying to write a kyungsoo story for every month that he is gone’ series.

parts: o1 | o2

Cars splash through puddles as they whiz down the streets. Rain continues to patter down on the bus stops awning. Resting your hand on your stomach you attempt to quell your little one’s movements with a soft whisper. He continues to push against his boundaries, ready to enter the world or perhaps eager to protect his mother. Your nerves have much to do with his unease. Your internal whispering have had the same affect on you as it did on him. There is no calming your nerves.

Your bus arrives, and with a deep breath, you push yourself up and board. A thirty minute commute stretches between you and the upcoming encounter. It drags on, while simultaneously rushing ahead. You’re not ready for the meeting, but neither would you be given more time. They gave you a week to come to a decision, even though you knew your answer the day they asked. Your son is your son, and you will fight to keep him.

The first day you met your son’s father was the day his family requested you relinquish to them your rights to your unborn son. He sat silently at the end of a long boardroom table, his eyes fixed on something beyond the room’s windows. His lawyers and secretary were anything but. They chattered incessantly and at a speed which left you confused and irritated. Eventually, you tuned them out as your focus rested on your sperm donor. He was rich, presumably well-educated, and based on the current diatribe due to become the CEO of his family’s company. The question which circulated most through your head was “why?”.

Why would someone like him go to a sperm bank? Clearly not for money. Perhaps treatment for an illness. Was he saving it for some future spouse? Were you given his sperm by accident?

In the end, why didn’t matter. What mattered was that your son was his son, and his family wanted his son. Your son was to be his heir and the heir to their company. You would become his surrogate, relinquishing all legal rights to him.

At the end of the meeting, they offered you a contract which outlined your duties for the remainder of your pregnancy and beyond. It included a gag order and the information regarding your compensation. They gave you a week to decide. As you prepared to leave, they delicately advised what would happen should you reject the offer. They had the means and the legal team to ensure your son ended up where he belonged, and when they succeeded you would end up desolate and destitute. The world passes by in a blur of gray. Water droplets race down the bus windows, and you watch them, betting on which will win. The distraction fails, so you stop. Your hand returns to your stomach, and this time you hum instead of whisper.

Telling your family you were going to undergo artificial insemination had released chaos. Your mother went silent, but her judgment was tangible. Your sisters vocalized their disapproval. You were still so young. You had plenty of time to find a guy and get married.

Telling your co-workers had started the gossip mill. Their disapproval stemmed from the opposite direction. You were a successful career woman, steadily climbing the corporate ladder. A child would complicate your life, and a woman didn’t need to have a baby to be complete.

You smiled politely and thanked everyone for their concern. On the day of your insemination appointment, you arrived early and prayed for success. A month later you received the wonderful news.

The comments petered out after you shared the news. The disapproval remained in their eyes though. You continued to smile politely as you planned for your new life.

Everything was going to plan which should have been a red flag that something would go wrong. Early in your third trimester after all your baby-showers and after you had completed your baby’s room, you received a visitor at work. His business card identified him as a legal representative of EXO Corporation, a corporation known the whole world over. You doubted the validity of his claim. Your employer had no connection with EXO Corporation, and your only personal connection came via the products you buy from their subsidiaries.

The man assured you he was indeed a part of their legal team and requested to arrange a meeting with you and the corporations president. You had snorted, the reaction involuntary but accurate. With a clipped smile, he informed you that they would send a car to pick you up the coming Saturday.

A car had arrived that Saturday, a week ago. It took you to the meeting which has haunted you and robbed you of sleep. This Saturday, you left before a car arrived.

The bus pulls up to your stop. You whisper a thank you to the driver as you descend the stairs. The EXO building looms over you, leaving you in its shadow. A chill shakes your shoulders. Raising your umbrella, you square the and march forward.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” You skitter to a stop and glance around for the source of your name. Do Kyungsoo stands beside a sleek black car, reminiscent of the one which came for you. From beneath his umbrella, he raises a hand in greeting, and you unconsciously mimic the gesture. Snapping your hand to your side, you politely nod before resuming your march. Ire burns in your stomach, but you smother it with reason. You need to be clear headed for the coming battle.

Arriving at the elevator, you tuck your umbrella in your purse and wait in vain for the doors to open before he comes. Kyungsoo takes the spot next to you, but the crowd of workers inhibits conversation. You board and ensure the crowd separates you. As the elevator ascends, the workers exit on their floors until only you two remain.

“I had hoped to speak with you before today’s meeting.” And he had tried. Every day at exactly 5PM, he would call, and after going to voice mail, he would send the same text. If you are available today, I would like to speak with you. “We still have a few minutes before the meeting. I intend to grab some coffee. We have water and juice.”

“I’m fine.” You decline with a polite smile. “I’d prefer to keep my time here brief.” The elevator dings, and the doors open. Kyungsoo motions for you to exit. He falls into step beside you and opens the door to the boardroom. Your upbringing forces a ‘thank you’ from your lips.

While you and Kyungsoo may be early, the legal team is earlier. They already sit around the table, vultures ready to pounce. When Kyungsoo enters, they stand and show their respect. He returns the greeting and situates himself at the head of the table. The legal team sits and motions for you to do the same.

You remain standing and meet their eyes. “Thank you, but there’s no need. I’m not selling you my baby.” Anger burns in your chest as you utter the vulgar response.

The head of the legal team smiles with all the sincerity of a fox. “Ms. Y/L/N, that’s a rather crude way of looking at this situation. We are merely compensating you for your services.”

“I don’t need compensation because I haven’t provided any services to your president or this company. I chose to have a baby. I chose the sperm from the options given to me. I chose to be inseminated. This baby,” you rest your hand on your womb, “is my baby. As we have no further business, I will be going. Goodbye.” You nod to them before exiting the boardroom. Indignation and threats fly at your back, but as the door closes behind you, they fade into silence.

Once more setting your hand on your belly, you feel peace. Your son has finally settled down to sleep.

In the nursery, you sit in the rocking chair you spent weeks agonizing over. Relaxing into its plush cushions, you commend yourself for your good decision. You have no regrets regarding your son, but certain decisions weigh heavier on your mind. The EXO corporation has maintained silence since you gave your decision, but their threats linger. If they decide to pursue legal action, you may lose your son.

The door buzzer breaks you from your revere. The rocking chair cushions are easy to sink into but difficult to climb out of. After much struggle, you free yourself. Eying the chair, you second guess your decision. The buzzer sounds again, and you table that thought for later.

Staring at the door cam screen sends fear winding through your veins. Kyungsoo’s face stares at you. He reaches for the buzzer again, but you open the door before he can push it. Body blocking entrance, you meet his eyes. He offers a smile which you refuse to return. With a nod, he pulls his hand from behind his back to reveal a take-away bag from your favorite restaurant. Your eyes narrow as you inch the door closed.

Clearing his throat, he lowers the bag. “I probably should have gotten something generic and not from the background check we did.”

“Probably.”

“It’s a peace offering. I was hoping we could talk. If not, the food is still yours.” He extends the bag, the smell of the food wafting forward. Your stomach growls, and your son nudges you. With a sigh, you grab the bag, keeping your fingers far from his. His arm returns to his side as he awaits your decision. Curiosity and fear mingle in your mind. Stepping back, you open the door wide.

You leave him in the entryway as you head to the kitchen. He enters as you finish transitioning the food from the container to a plate. The bag only contained one portion of your favorite dish. You settle at the table with your food. He takes up position in the kitchen’s center, hands clasped behind his back.

“I wanted to let you know that my corporation will not be suing you for custody. I have told them that we will respect your decision.” He begins as you chew on your first bite. Relief floods you as tears prick your eyes. Swallowing, you nod in acknowledgment but keep your attention on your food. “I also wanted to apologize.” Your next bite lodges in your throat as your knuckles whiten around your fork. Kyungsoo silences.

“Continue.” You offer before standing up and heading to the cupboard to grab a glass.

“I’m sorry for the way my company and my family treated you.” You pull a water pitcher from the fridge. “I’m also sorry for allowing them to harass you, my reasons for doing so were cruel.”

“Because you wanted to steal my son.” Your voice remains steady despite the roiling in your stomach. You set the pitcher beside your glass. Your hands are shaking too badly to pour.

“Because I didn’t trust you.”

“Trust me?!” Your eyes flash to him, your hands balling into fists on the counter top

He maintains your gaze. “I had concerns that you had chosen my sperm on purpose and intended to use the baby to exhort money from me. After meeting you and seeing your love for your son, I put my concerns to rest.”

Anger still burns inside, but you release your fists and pick the pitcher back up. You guzzle the first glass and pour yourself another. This one you hold in your hand, swirling it and watching the ripples. “Is that all?”

"No." You glance back up. He continues to stand in the middle of your kitchen, his attention fully on you. "I also came to ask you to consider allowing me to be a part of my son's life."

“Why?” The word snaps out.

“Because he is my son, and the only child I will have.”

“What?” You breath the question as you set your glass back on the counter.

“Last year, I was in an accident.” The tabloids had covered it ad nauseam. “What was left out of the news report was that the accident left me infertile. Information which could be detrimental to the corporation.”

“Did they have you save your sperm in case of something like this?” The “whys” you pondered resurface as you take your glass and return to the table.

A smile cracks his face, and he chuckles. “No. That was a lucky happenstance.” Curiosity tingles the tip of your tongue, but you seal your lips. The smile continues to play on Kyungsoo’s lips. He motions to the chair across from you, and you nod. As he sits, he continues. “After high school, I went through what my parents call my rebellious stage.” You snort around a bite, pieces of food flying to the table. Covering your mouth, you clear your throat and attempt to regain your composure. With him sitting across from you in a perfectly tailored three piece suit, you find it hard to imagine him going through a rebellious stage. He shakes off your reaction. “I ran away from home, lived on friend’s couches, worked odd jobs. At one point, I became desperate for cash, and my friend suggested selling my sperm. Any option was better than swallowing my pride and crawling back to my parents.

“After the accident when my parents and the board began to worry about the future of the company, I told them about the sperm. They went to the bank, but-” He shrugs. You know the rest of the story.

Running your thumb through the condensation on the glass, you contemplate his story and his request. “If I say, ‘no’?”

“I will respect your decision, but will request that if my son ever wants a relationship with me, you will allow it.”

“If I say, ‘yes’?”

“I will respect the boundaries you put in place.” You settle your hands in your lap and meet his gaze once again. You search beneath his calm demeanor and find the flicker of hope.

“You know a lot about me.” He swallows but nods. “May I get to know you better before I decide?” The hope brightens, and he nods again.

#hmw #kyungsoo #do kyungsoo #d.o.#exo #kyungsoo drabble #do kyungsoo drabble #d.o. drabble #exo drabble #kyungsoo collection #kyungsoo fanfiction #exo fanfiction

114 notes · View notes

literalbuzzkill · 4 years ago

Text

Below I'm gonna vent so y'all can ignore that XD

I'm basically making this post as a timestamp/reminder for myself about Covid2020 and what I had to deal with during it (even though it's still a relentlessly ongoing problem, as of Jan2021, yikes)

Below is my personal experience in switching from working everyday as an essential retail worker to now a stay at home unemployed/leave of absense person. Don't feel bad about not reading it, it's long, boring, and I can't really expect anyone to actually be interested because the struggle is real and who wants to be reminded of the grim reality we can't currently escape? XD

[The Start:]

I was still working retail up until a few months ago because most people left. And being short staffed already before covid at my store, things became an even worse unmanageable nightmare because they started to work the remaining staff to death because no one really knew what to do which sucked and everyone was rightfully afraid of what was happening all around them, plus everyone internally was hoping that this would all blow over in a decent amount of time and we could all return to normal and never speak of it again. Considering Covid started around late January/early February in 2019 and today's date (for my future reference) is Jan 4th 2021, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that it certainly has not blown over in a decent amount of time like originally hoped for. Oof.

I was a closer but because of covid my job turned into 'every position at the store and everything/anything that you can possibly get done'. All the stuff from morning team, mid shift, and nightshift rolled into one. Cashiering, phone calls, cleaning, ship from store, backroom, covering multiple breaks, and every department on hardlines salesfloor,

(I did everything except for guest services, food service, clothing, and hr)

you name it XD because most people abandoned ship and Yeeted (which I dont blame them for, t'was a big mood) our store did not hire replacements until literally a few months ago. After I left. Nice.

We were not getting paid any extra, having to stay late, running around with an unending unfinishable list, having to deal with rude customers and cranky bosses, full 8+hour shifts having to wear a mask (even in the break room, and sometimes missing breaks all together because of the large work load) Another problem, my job did not supply masks, proper cleaning supplies, gloves etc to us until an unacceptable amount of time had passed since the start of the virus. Now I didn't expect them to be stocked and fully prepared immediately, obviously.

It was also pretty frustrating getting reprimanded by customers when supplies were low everywhere and some things necessary for existing safely could not be bought anywhere due to high demand, which was only natural, but some people actually acted like it was our personal fault for the store for being sold out of things like hand sanitizer, masks, gloves, toilet paper, and even accused us for holding it in the back for ourselves (which wasnt the case, customers are top priority at our store so the workers usually got nothing to take home or buy, even if we had pulled it from the truck or stocked it ourselves.)

Aside from the excessive draining from normal retail where we already suffer from Karen's and the often unpleasant general public, the Rona made the daily grind even more intense, as if we already thought it couldn't get any worse.

Straying away from that for a second, personal lives were now also affected greatly. Added on top of this new fear/caution/lifestyle was not being able to see my fiance or his family for months because they are all at very high risk. (Unfortunately I am too, but I really needed the paycheck so I thought I had to keep working until the inevitable, which was not looked forward to, but as long as I was potentially exposed with my job we all had to be apart unless I decided to quit and risk not having enough money to pay my bills or survive.)

(Side note for context: My fiance and I have been very lucky enough to see eachother almost every day for 4 years. Surprisingly we have not gotten sick of eachother yet and kept up with that regularity. And though we are engaged, we dont live together, but we do only live 15 minutes away so we just drive over to eachother everyday. Anyway, point being that going months without seeing him at all killed me internally hardcore. This was before zoom was popular and we were not about to resort to Skype. His parents are older and closer to me than my own family and were not comfortable with any form of in-person visits so we usually just did phone calls.)

And eventually I gave up,

I made it halfway through this pandemic working everyday, not seeing the only people I considered family, and I couldn't do it anymore. It literally didn't feel human.

Not to mention this did not help whatsoever with my pre-existing problems, bad depression, anxiety, ptsd, Self h, etc... it was all just getting way too out of hand with more stress piling up daily and taking too big a toll on me to the point where I couldn't deal with my regular lifestyle anymore. I needed a break and a change to severely turn myself around.

So a few months ago I finally went on leave of absence and it was the hardest thing for me to do but honestly the best thing I did. Because everything was so uncertain and I worried about how helpful unemployment would be towards my bills, if I'd lose my job for being gone too long due to an open ended leave of absense for the sake of my health/safety, and honestly I loved my job and my coworkers, but many of them had already left so at that point it became easier for me to leave.

I'm currently making more on unemployment than my job was paying my bi-weekly and doing leagues better mentally, emotionally, and physically, than before when I thought I could last the whole time working through covid hoping I wouldn't catch it and probably die because my health is not 100% gucci in the first place. I was too stubborn to quit until I got to a breaking point and then realised that putting my health/life on the line when I'm at risk during a pandemic for literally no reason other than feeling bad for my one really kind boss (who ended up leaving for a better job anyway right after I left)

in my brain the whole time I figured "eh if I die then I die" but there was a major upside to saying "you know what, fuck this" and leaving.

I've gotten to take up hobbies and do things that I've wanted to do for like 10 years, I improved my financial situation, bought my dream car(A 2004Crossfire), got engaged to the love of my life, had more time to read, write, learn, create, help my fiance record his first official music video, support smaller businesses, get back in better physical health, regain stability, and a new respect for life, health, friends, family, acts of kindness, and how easy things used to be before covid and how it was unintentionally taken for granted.

Not gonna lie, at first I was pretty mad that people on unemployment made more than essential workers, but I also knew that it wasn't their fault for their personal situations or reasonings for needing it. The problem was mainly that many Companies/jobs could have done more, treated essential workers better, given more help, compensated financially, offered forms of protectionagaint the virus, or done literally anything extra at all to help employees who were struggling or who stay to continue working there during a terrible pandemic, and some companies/jobs have done good things for their workers in response of the outbreak which is awesome.

Workers should absolutely be compensated for their extra efforts, time, and pleasant attitude in this difficult time, and treated better than they are. Some things should 1000% be different but some things in this world are still a work in progress.

And also, for people with health issues that are at risk but working anyway for whatever reason, there shouldn't be any shame felt for taking care of yourself or by the people who have to go on unemployment, those who can't work, lost their jobs, need help or a break, or just can't do it anymore, because it hits hard when you realise that even though your effort is important and you're doing your best, playing an important role in society, you could also be risking your health/life or even possibly someone you live withs, for a company that will replace you pretty easily if you're suddenly gone.

I worked at my store for 4 years, was extremely hard working and did everything and anything I could to stay as long as I could during this, but I realised that I'd rather not risk myself and be treated how I was.

Ultimately, the sad reality is that covid has some people forgetting that humans (whether working or not) are humans too that can die or fail at any time given the current circumstances. Some situations are unavoidable like a pandemic, but we can do our best with whatever reality we meet, whether it's being essential the whole way through like some are able, and knowing your health well enough to be able to judge what's best for you individually for now.

but regardless making sure you're not taking yourself for granted in the process.

I'm lucky enough to not have gotten covid yet, and I hope it stays that way.

If your job isnt doing what it can for you in this time, dont be too stubborn about staying

Its not worth risking yourself for your job honestly, and I really hope peoples jobs do as much as they can for those they employ.

If you aren't working, do something with your time that you'll remember (safe things obviously) and if you are still working keep up the awesome progress, stay safe, and be blessed. ❤

1 note · View note

rueur · 4 years ago

Text

Morning Pages No. 61

Monday 24th August - 1:04pm

I know that it’s a bit late in the day to start this entry, but I needed another bit of a morning off. Evan and I had an early night last night but we had sex first. We were both so tired afterwards due to consistent daily workouts, that we ended up falling asleep naked and staying asleep till about 8am. To be clear, we went to bed around 10:30pm, so it was a long night of sleep for both of us. I’m grateful for it though, because even though my calves still hurt like crazy, I do feel refreshed and like the healing process is underway. What did we do this morning? The son of a bitch restarted Breath of the Wild and we’ve both been playing on his new save file. I have to buy another copy of that game because I really want to replay it now. Even so, I have a lot of work to do and I’m yet to make proper headway on Julie’s new site. It’s coming along relatively fine in Squarespace but I’ve only worked on it for about an hour and I’ve yet to add the privacy policy and finetune a lot of the product links. I feel like we’ll absolutely need to add some copy for the products, and definitely put a disclaimer about the use of fabric softener either at the top of the description or below...or both? It’s pretty important.

I’ve been chatting to Sarah on Whatsapp. I feel like Sarah is a bit of a better influence on me than Wren, but I hate that I’m comparing them both in my head. I just feel a bit disheartened in my relationship with Wren, because of all the horrid experiences I’ve had with them over the course of this year. It’s been quite confronting to see how Wren acts when they’ve decided they’re in a more dire situation than me...like I’m not even sure if that’s what’s happened, but that’s what it’s felt like to me. I can’t understand how they’ve just been able to decide that just because they’re living alone, this time is harder on them? I don’t know. And even if it is harder, which I can admit that it most likely is, that doesn’t mean that I should have to incorporate addressing their pain into my life on a daily basis. I was willing to chat every day. But I also don’t want to feel like my life has to be placed on hold for them, whenever they may want me. I’ve felt like that enough in this friendship as it is. I’ve given them whatever I’m capable of giving, and I’ve given them a hell of a lot more than I’ve given any other friend I have ever had. Except, maybe, for Malith. But Malith has certainly given me more than I’ve given him. Goddamn. I’m fighting the urge to delete this whole paragraph, but I deserve to express myself. This year has been fucking hard for me. I’ve not been suicidal, because that part of my life is over. Even if Evan and I break up, that part of my life will always always be over. It’s no longer an option in my head, to go down that route. It’s a time-waster. There are better things to do than yearn without end, than wish for better than you’ve got. I’ve been dealt both a bad and good hand, and it’s only bad because I see it as so. It’s only good because I see it as so. Wren needs to learn that everyone has fucked up mums, figuratively speaking. Everyone has SOMETHING that they wish they had lived without. Everyone has SOMETHING that they wished was just a smidge better than it was. I don’t want any part of explaining all the fucked up shit that has happened to me over the course of my childhood. I don’t want to have a dick-measuring contest when it comes to depression and trauma. Fuck that. I’d much rather live in the present and be happy with the life I’ve built for myself. Even Wren needs to feel their privilege to a certain degree. It would be ludicrous if they didn’t. Two apartments, a job that they love that compensates them really fucking well, and an abundance of resources that provides them with independence and agency. I have so little of all that they have, and I’m working my ass off for next to nothing in return, just building up a resume that may not even receive a stolen glance at the end of all of this mindful building. Who knows? My fate rests in the hands of people who I feel quite sincerely don’t want me to succeed. I have a name and face and degree that is just...unhireable. But I don’t let that beat me the fuck down, because I know that I work harder and fucking smarter than anyone else on that pile of resumes. So I keep going, knowing that my work will become of a benefit to whichever organisation I end up representing.

My whole being right now is just revolving around entering the industry, like properly becoming a content writer and being able to actually use my degree to begin to pay off that motherfucking HECS debt. I know I’m swearing a fucking lot, but I feel like it’s actually helping me so I’m not going to stop. I don’t care who reads this and who judges me for it because at the end of the day, you’re the ones reading these sensitive pages on a blog that I’ve told nobody about. How did you get here?

I’m feeling paranoid, fired up. I can feel it in my fingers. My hands are freezing cold, and Evan’s in the one room that has the heater and he’s sitting there on his ass with the door shut. And I’m starting to feel like maybe I always find myself on the outside because I allow myself to get there. I have to start standing up for my damn self, but also...I know how to choose my battles, I suppose. Is it knowing how to choose your battles if you partake in a MINIMAL number of battles? Like a fractional amount of battles to the battles that you could have potentially fought in? Fuck. Nicky’s sleeping on my white vest. I may need to patch that up, but the inner fabric is so sheer, I’m not entirely sure how it’ll respond to a needle and thread. I may need excess fabric...we’ll see.

My cross-stitch order is on the way, and I’m excited to begin this new activity. I bought a hot air balloon pattern for Wren, I’m not sure if I’ve already said that. I’m looking forward to learning how to do this, because apparently it’s quite similar to knitting? Or at least the basics of knitting. I’ve heard that cross-stitch is a good introduction to knitting. After this, it may be good to see if I can give crochet a go too, but it’s also a little bit intimidating. I mean crochet is all about three-dimensional creations, whereas cross-stitch and knitting are generally more...patterned art, scarves, and blankets. Still functional, but more veering on the side of two-dimensionality. I’m a touch surprised that ‘dimensionality’ is a word. It feels like the kind of word that a primary school-aged student would assert is ‘ACTUALLY A WORD’, even though you know it’s not. OH, listen to this fresh hell! That ‘SNACCIDENT’ Typo lunch mug thingo we have says that the word ‘SNACCIDENT’ is a VERB, which is plain RIDICULOUS. If the word ‘accident’ is a noun and they’re claiming that ‘SNACCIDENT’ is a verb, then a sample sentence using that word would read as follows: ‘Henry snaccidented’. VERBS ARE FUCKING DOING WORDS. In no CONCEIVABLE UNIVERSE would ‘SNACCIDENT’ be considered a VERB. My fucking lord. These pages are just RAGE-FILLED, aren’t they? Which is actually pretty interesting, because I don’t feel mad? I feel fine. I feel a little bit annoyed that it’s almost 1:30pm and I’ve not done a lick of work either today or yesterday. I’m thinking I should send Julie a text today asking if she’d be free to meet up again sometime early next week, maybe Tuesday or Wednesday? I feel like I could make great progress on the website during that time. We shall see what happens. We shall see what I eventually get around to doing. I need money, gosh darn...

I feel like I’ve been writing a lot about money during these pages, and I understand why. Money has become a bit of an issue for me since moving out, which I know...doesn’t necessarily need to be said. But you must understand that I’m studying AND working AND working AND working AND working. And I’m still not making that much. It’s frustrating. I’m trying not to think about it right now because of lockdown and the fact that the bulk of my situation is currently out of my own control, but this is all really because of the house. Just knowing that Evan and I are ready for that step is enough for me to just want it now. The issue is - as is usually the case - MONEY. If we had enough for at least a 10% deposit, that would be insane. But a 10% deposit on a house valued at $500,000 is $50,000, and combined we only have HALF of that. If we could potentially get some rich parents or guardians to match what we have, then we could actually do it. But who even has rich parents or guardians? And I don’t think my dad would sign off on this until maybe after we’re married? I’m fighting the urge to go check if the house is still even listed online. I’m hopeful that it’ll be up until we have the money. Or maybe until we can get to a combined $30,000, to give us a bit of a buffer once we’ve given the rest of our money to whichever gross corporation decides to grant us a loan. Ahhhhhh. Why does this world try its hardest to strip you of all your agency? Why is it that so many people struggle to even find a place to be? A place to call their own? It’s cruel. I can only hope this archaic order is on its way out. I was hoping the realities of climate change, or police brutality, or perhaps even COVID-19 would pave the way for the people’s revolution, but I now feel it may be something more innocuous, more unexpected. Something that the bigwigs won’t see coming, as the people themselves won’t see it coming. Even so, everybody knows that it’s on its way. The ultimate fight between the oppressors and the oppressed, and the one brawl that may reveal the future of western society. Democracy is indeed dead. We’ll see how quickly the next system comes into place, and exactly whose side that system will be on. And as for the universal base income, I find myself rooting more and more for it, but I also know that it may be provided to us as a band-aid, built to keep the people’s revolution at bay. But as long as there are billionaires, there’s no way that the revolution won’t be coming. Exponential growth cannot occur unless it’s built on the backs of millions, billions. This current system is just not economically viable, which is ironic considering that ‘economic strength’ is usually the reason capitalists vouch for capitalism. I believe capitalists are just people who haven’t shirked their ‘American Dream’ yet, who basically still believe in Santa Claus. I’m not even sure what to call myself. A social capitalist? I believe people should feel compelled to build their businesses and to innovate their industries, but I don’t believe in penalising those who have ‘valueless skills’. I also refuse to believe there is such a thing as a ‘valueless skill’. Perhaps being able to write stream of consciousness entries is a valueless skill. That may be the only thing.

#morning pages #streamofconsciousness #61 #artistsway #money #wren #work

1 note · View note

ernmark · 6 years ago

Text

A prompter who asked to remain anonymous requested:

If your prompts are still open I would ADORE a continuation of Damien on Mars with human Arum. I'd love to see a continuation of that world! I'm really enjoying Damien's internal struggles that are now more modern. I'm so curious how this would resolve into his romances.

I’m trying to get back into the swing of writing again, and this one in particular called out to me.

It’s a continuation of this snippet here.

For maybe the hundredth time that hour, the Keep reminds Arum to be careful.

He scowls at the confines of his hiding place. If it’s going to insist on micromanaging every step of this endeavor, it should have found itself a mechanical puppet so it could the job itself. But it didn’t-- supposedly it trusts him to take care of it and to send him out to do these tasks on its behalf, and supposedly that means it should trust him to do it without all this incessant prodding.

What does the Keep know, anyway?

It tells him to be careful and to take his time and all the while it can’t even hide the undercurrents of pain that fill its every thought. It might pretend to be all strong and noble, but he can feel that constant ache as if it was his own, his muscles calcifying and his skin turning hard and cold and his nerves freezing in the last signal they sent before sputtering out. It’s awful. It’s distracting. And it’s a mere phantom of what the Keep is feeling at this moment, and he can’t stand the thought of letting it continue a moment longer than absolutely necessary.

And that calls for drastic measures.

His research brings him to a small laboratory at the edge of the city’s dome, its walls reinforced with homemade fortifications to compensate where the aging shields fall short. A shiny, state-of-the-art lock stands out against the dented steel and carbon fiber of the door and the surrounding wood.

He almost snorts. That lock probably cost the scientist a fortune, and it still can’t keep him out for more than a few seconds against the Keep’s portal protocols.

Almost everything about the little laboratory seems cobbled together from spare parts, with only a few bits of shiny new equipment that seem out of place among the weathered resin and dented metal. For all its ramshackle quality, though, there’s an obvious order to it all. He would consider it more carefully, but the Keep sings a warning: someone’s coming.

He flicks off the light and hides behind a corner just as the door opens.

The door slides open, and the neon lights outside cast three long shadows across the floor: one in a wheelchair, one standing, the third obviously canine.

“So... maybe go stay with Damien for a little while?” says the first, almost wheedling.

The second scoffs. “I’m not going to stop my experiments--”

“Just for a little while,” the first says quickly. “Until Talfryn and I figure it out and save the day and...”

Arum stops listening. What that one thinks isn’t his concern. All that matters is that he doesn’t call for help.

He stays in the shadows, silent and still, until the scientist all but slams the door in the man’s face and says her last goodbyes through the crack.

There’s a long, low moment as she watches him leave through the monitor by the door frame.

“Finally,” she sighs, and for a moment her exhaustion is palpable. She flicks a switch, and one by one the outdated halogen lights flicker on, illuminating the laboratory in an unnatural yellow-blue glow. She steps past the corner where he’s hiding, too tired to notice him in her peripheral vision. Her long dark curls, once piled into a bun on her head, coil around her face like vines. Her clothes are covered in glitter and shine and flowing fabric, entirely too impractical for a controlled environment, but perfectly suited for the parties and parades that filled the city streets last night. That would certainly explain her exhaustion. Her comms sits in her ear, still alight with a dying charge.

Be careful, the Keep warns again.

He doesn’t need the reminder. He only has one chance at this.

She stops. Blinks. Turns.

“Who’s--”

He doesn’t let her finish the thought before he lunges at her. She twists out of his way, but not fast enough to save her comms from his grip.

She backs away, cowering as he rights himself.

“Get out of here,” she says, her voice shaking. “Now. I have a gun, and I’ll--”

“Do you mean this gun?” Slowly he draws her blaster from his pocket, a cold-blooded smile crossing his lips. It was easy enough to find among such meticulous organization.

The scientist stumbles, her back colliding with a filing cabinet-- and then her expression changes. “Actually, I meant this one.”

There’s no time to fumble with the stolen blaster. Just move: get out of the way, knock her down, disarm her--

But no matter how fast he is, the laser bolt is faster.

Arum wakes up with a flood of sensation: the burn of his overworked synapses around his implant, the ache of a fresh bruise where he hit a counter on his way down, the secondhand pain and fretting from the Keep, the taste of ozone in his mouth from the blaster, the smell of disinfectant, the discomfort of limbs twisted in ways they shouldn’t be and held in place by steel handcuffs.

His captor paces in front of him, cradling her comms to her ear.

“Hey babe,” she says with more chagrin than he would have expected for her triumph. “I wanted to give you a chance to say ‘I told you so’. It happened again.” The cry on the other end is so loud even Arum can hear it, though he can’t make out words.

“No, I’m not-- hey-- hey, take a second and breathe. I’m not hurt, okay? I’m fine. The backup blaster was right where you left it, charged and everything. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, he’s still here. No, I don’t want to file a police report. What do you mean, why? Because the last time I did, the whole precinct showed up and confiscated half my stock as ‘evidence’, that’s why. But I would feel better if you were around. Okay? Okay. Thanks. I love you. I’ll see you soon.”

She ends the call, and he shuts his eyes and lets his head fall back against his chest.

“You can quit that already,” she says. “The stun will have worn off by now. I know you’re awake.”

He keeps pretending, just to spite her.

She huffs and rummages around in one of her cabinets. When she speaks again, her voice is immediately in front of him. “Look this way.”

She grabs him by the chin and lifts his head, and he can’t quite stop himself from opening his eyes, just in time to be blinded by a flashlight aimed directly into his cornea. He hisses and pulls back, blinking away the afterimage of the light.

“Mm-hmm,” she hums and proceeds to check his pulse. “How does your neck feel right now?”

“That’s no business of yours,” he snaps.

“You sure about that?” Two fingers under his jaw check his lymph nodes. “Because even legitimate cybernetics will malfunction after a stun blast, and the black market varieties tend to cut corners on the fail-safes. Depending on how deep it’s wired into your nervous system, it could be doing a lot of damage right now.”

As if the Keep would ever be so careless with his safety.

Arum sneers. “If you were so concerned, you shouldn’t have shot me.”

“If you hadn’t broken into my house, I wouldn’t have had to.”

“Well, if you hadn’t--” A renewed wave of pain pulses through the Keep, and Arum gasps under the force of it.

The scientist stands, her jaw set decisively. “Your cybernetic is going to keep doing that, and it’s going to keep getting worse.” She grabs some kind of mechanical device and reaches for his neck.

He jerks his head wildly to the side. “What do you think you’re doing?”

She’s patient, but impassive. “I get it. You’re in pain. The best thing we can do right now is shut down your cybernetic so we can degauss it and reboot it safely.” Her voice is so calm, so clinical, and it somehow makes the savagery of her words even worse. “I promise, it won’t hurt.”

Hurt?! Of what consequence is a little pain compared to severing his connection to his Keep? He’s never been without it, not even for a moment, not since he was a child-- what if it can’t be restored once the connection is broken?-- what if he loses it forever-- what if he can’t find his way back to it and it dies without him?--

The scientist leans in again, and he’s already planning his defense. She’s cuffed his hands, but his legs are still free. He’ll kick her legs out from under her. He’ll headbutt her if she gets too close. He’ll bite her fingers off. He’ll do anything-- everything-- whatever it takes.

But before she can make the attempt, a pounding comes on the door, followed by a muffled, frantic shout.

The scientist sighs. “Hold on.”

Before she can rise, the door slides open and a uniformed man rushes inside and descends on the scientist in a flurry of fluttering hands and babbling lips.

“Rilla!” he cries at ear-splitting volume. “My love, my light, my forever-flower-- are you hurt? I’m so sorry it took me so long to reach you, I came as fast as I could, but--”

“I told you, Damien, I’m fine.” She sets her hands on his shoulders and puts a healthier distance between the two of them. “Honestly, I’m a bit more worried about this guy. He’s got some kind of back-alley subcutaneous cybernetic, and that laser did a real number on him.”

Arum sincerely doubts that Damien heard a word of that. The moment their eyes met over the scientist’s shoulder, the police officer went pale and his eyes went wide.

“You,” Damien breathes, low and rough and far closer to the sounds he made during their fight the night before. “You-- you villain! You fiend! I let you go and this is what you do with your freedom?”

“I won that fight,” Arum grumbles.

Rilla looks from one to the other. “You two know each other?”

“We’ve met,” Arum says, in the same moment that Damien starts on another tearful tirade: “Rilla, my Amaryllis, my love, if I’d known he would come after you I never would have let him go, I swear it on my life, on my soul--”

She blinks. “Wait. So this was... what? Some kind of revenge?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Arum tells the officer. “I had no idea the two of you knew each other.” Maybe if he had, he might have looked harder for another scientist who fit Dr. Amaryllis Of-Exile’s qualifications. Bad enough when he had the memory of an impassioned knife-fight nagging at his focus; now he knows that the beautiful police officer who let him go is in a relationship, and with the woman he tried to kidnap, no less. All of this is a distraction that he doesn’t need.

His train of thought is derailed by another wave of pain from the Keep.

He doesn’t have time for this.

“Okay, then,” Amaryllis says, turning to face him again. “Then why are you here?”

“It hardly matters now, does it?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Damien asks. “He came to rob you, like the last brigand who broke in here.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Amaryllis says. “The last one went in and out with as much as they could carry. This guy had time to find one of the blasters you left, but he didn’t take anything else. He was waiting for me.”

“You think he was after you?” Damien says something else, but Arum can’t hear the words over another wave of agony. When his eyes refocus, Damien is immediately in front of him, looking ill. “--swear, I didn’t touch him--”

“It’s the cybernetic,” Amaryllis kneels beside him, that infernal device in her hand once again. “Damien, I need you to hold him steady.”

Arum tries to squirm away, but callused hands close on the side of his head and keep him still.

“No!” he hisses, but it’s lost in another cry of pain. The Keep is dying, and he can feel it-- and if he doesn’t act now, that pain will be the last impression of it he’ll ever feel. “The implant isn’t broken-- the Keep is.”

Amaryllis hesitates. “The what?”

“That’s why I came here. That’s why I--” He shudders through another wave. It’s getting worse. “I need your help, or it’s going to die.”

#the penumbra podcast #second citadel #fanfiction #writing prompt

39 notes · View notes

spectralarchers · 6 years ago

Note

Christine! Writing help question here, if that's okay with you: I saw your reblog on Crowley's blubber/stutter at points throughout GO series and wanted to ask how to make dialogue realistic? Like irl we say uh and backtrack and stuff a lot but I'm wondering how to pull it off well... and kind of on a tangent, I struggle with finding a balance between dialogue and action (too much dialogue in my case). Any tips?

Hi, Ver!

Sorry it took me so long to reply to your ask, I wasn’t around on my laptop much and I wanted to give you a proper response! The post @verdelet is refering to is this one, which is a compilation of all the times Crowley in Good Omens just makes noises instead of saying stuff, where I used the following tags:

#HONESTLY THOUGH #THIS IS A GREAT EXAMPLE OF HOW DIALOGUE WORKS THOUGH! #SOMETIMES WHEN I READ A FIC AND THE AUTHOR INCLUDES THESE SOUNDS IN THEIR DIALOGUE I GET ALL HAPPY! #BECAUSE PEOPLE MAKE THOSE SOUNDS WHEN THEY TALK! #AND LIKE!!! YES!!! #EXCELLENT ACTING CHOICES!!!!

I don’t think I have any specific tips, but let me try.

There’s one scene I always, always, always think about when I think about my dialogue and writing it, and it’s this one from Ocean’s 11:

youtube

Which in the script of the movie looked like this:

DANNY (V.O.) And Saul makes ten.

48 INT. BAR - NIGHT

48Danny and Rusty look weary from all this recruitment. Anearby TV with the sound off plays a promo for anupcoming Tyson fight.

DANNYTen should do it, don't you think?

(as Rusty shrugs)You think we need one more?

(as Rusty shrugs)You think we need one more.

(as Rusty shrugs)Okay. We'll get one more.

It’s super simple, but it works so well, because it feels genuine - the whole Ocean’s franchise is really good with its dialogue (a lot of it was scripted, but a lot of it was unscripted too). This was just for inspiration.

But, like, when I write dialogue - especially in action scenes - I try to let it flow naturally, as much as possible - if that means I have to cut up the description of a car flipping over in order to get the swear word in, I’ll do that:

He’d miscalculated the stickiness of the road - or rather, lack thereof. The moment he felt the car skid off the ice, his heart took an unexpected leap into his throat.

“Fuck!”

He immediately gripped the wheel tighter and stopped pressing the brakes in the hope of steering the car back on track. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered under his breath as he tried to figure out how long he had before they were done for good.

You can also use the dash to cut up your dialogue:

The road ahead seemed to be going into a tight turn, though, and in spite of his efforts he may not be able to get the car to stop before they hit the bedrock.

And so, the only thing that came out of his lips as he felt the car skid onto the patch of black ice was “Jesu- fu- hold on!”

“Hold on to what?” she yelled from the passenger’s seat, her fingers gripping the safety belt.

Turning the wheel completely to the other side, in the hopes of forcing it onto the side, he clenched his teeth.

It’s like a natural cut up of the word, sometimes people get interrupted in what they’re saying, and it’s totally fine to do it in the dialogue as well. I usually keep in mind that the words needs to get cut off in a place that’s logical - for example, if you’re going to cut off “fuck”, better either cut if off at “f-” or at “fu-” because “fuc-” just doesn’t make a lot of sense, if that makes sense?

I also quite like having my characters repeat things, or look for their words when they’re mumbling, so I consciously try and get them to say things either twice or mumble, like I would in real life. It’s like letting the dialogue tell the story, rather than try and say that they’re mumbling or looking for their words:

Finally, as the car skid to a halt, she hit him in the shoulder. “You! You absolute- you absolute idiot!” she shrieked as him, as she tried hitting him again, but this time, he caught her wrist.

“I’m sorry- hey, stop- I’m sorry, alright?! I didn’t- I didn’t think the road was going to be frozen tonight!”

“You should have known!”

He made a sound, sharply inhaling. “Huh?! I’m sorry I didn’t! Because I don’t control the weather, okay? And can you please stop trying to hit me?!”

He caught her other hand this time and immobilized her in her seat.

“Uhhh, yeah, pfff.” She paused for a couple of seconds, before resuming: “You’re always, always, always going on about how well you know these- these- these stupid roads!”

One of my favorite parts of dialogue I’ve written is in chapter 7 of Nothing Burns Like the Cold, when Clint is explaining to Steve why the American military is in Greenland, and he’s explaning the Monroe Doctrine and the whole World War II shebang up in the North Pole, because I feel like I made Clint’s long, long, long monologue break up into more understandable pieces of dialogue. I’ve highlighed the ‘dialogue things’ I did in bold in order to make the monologue feel more natural:

“Well, I’m not sure if you know this, but the Danish Ambassador to the United States during World War Two decided he wasn’t going to take orders from occupied Denmark, and so whenever he spoke to American politicians or diplomats, he would do it on behalf of the ‘free’ Denmark. He thought that because the King and Government were being held prisoner, none of their orders mattered, and apparently we liked that a lot. Especially because of the Monroe Doctrine, I think- I- I think that was it. Because we got afraid that Nazi Germany would establish bases in Greenland, so when this guy, when this uh- this- Kauffman? Yeah, that was his name, it was a big deal when Kauffman came into the picture and said that he was giving the United States authorization to defend Danish colonies on Greenland from the Germans. He was sentenced for treason by everybody back home in Copenhagen, but it’s basically because of his agreement that we’re still in Greenland. He never put an end date on the agreement, I think they called it something like the ‘agreement relating to the defense of Greenland’ but I’m not sure on the exact phrasing. It just states that the American personnel can stay on site until- until- uh, ‘for as long as there is an agreement’?”

Clint rubs a pearl of sweat off his temple, as he takes a breath.

“The US Coast Guard and War Department established some weather and radio stations, and it didn’t really matter after a while, once the war ended. But, a couple of years after the German abdication, stuff happened - NATO, and other agreements, Denmark ratifying the agreement and everything. It made Denmark and the US closer allies. In 1951 though, the Danish and American nations forced native Kalaalit people out of their homes in Thule, because the establishment of the airbase was of “more importance” than them living there, where they’d been living for centuries.” Clint pauses, as he looks over at Steve.

“It was bad, man. Governments said it was on voluntary basis, but it wasn’t. Kind of like when we put the Native peoples of the Americas in camps and called it a good thing,” Clint spits, as he clenches his hands. “After all of that, Greenland became a key point in the Cold War. I mean they set up… They set up 14 bases in Greenland, Bluie West, and Bluie East. And then, when Operation Chrome Dome sailed around, they used Thule as one of the bases where they could re-fuel and load up the B-52s that would fly around 24/7. That operation ended in 1968 when one of the planes crashed.”

He pauses.

“In Greenland. On the - the indlandsis? The ice sheet? Right out of Baffin Bay, they think. They were carrying four hydrogen bombs aboard. Thankfully, there wasn’t a big nuclear explosion because the safeties prevented it, but the explosion caused the sheet to melt and a huge area to become contaminated with radioactive material. It also sank to the bottom of the ocean.”

Clint rubs his face and spits to the side.

“The clean-up, they called it Crested Ice, I think. I mean the plane crashed and burned, and there was a patch of blackened ice which was just- just huge, man. I’ve seen the aerial picture that was taken then, and it was terrible. Some documents which were released from the clean up revealed that plutonium contamination reached extremely high levels, and there was… It was bad, Steve. The workers who helped clean up were poisoned, and they still haven’t received compensation for their work.”

Sighing, Clint finally says the truth that he doesn’t want to tell Steve: “Part of the entire Chrome Dome operation and the Thule Air Base was to patrol the Arctic border to the USSR and to find you, Steve. ” Clint takes a deep breath, as he sees Steve’s head drop next to him.

And, the whole above quote, which is practically 600 words of Clint monologuing, all the while I was writing it, I was sometimes stopping up and reading it out loud to see where would someone pause, where would someone search for their words, where would they be thinking about another word?

I remember when I wrote it, it was difficult because there was a lot of information I had to write correctly (the whole Kauffman and Monroe Doctrine is historically accurate, as is the displacement of the Kalaalit peoples) but also make it seem like it was someone trying to recall something they’d learned a long time ago all the while explaining it to someone who had never heard of it before.

It’s the same thing when your character doesn’t know the thing and motions for it instead. If we continue in the car crash example I was writing earlier, it’d give something like this:

“You told me the bend would be like- like this,” she says, as she moves her fingers in an S-shaped formation, and he shakes his head.

“Nah, it’s more-” he moves her hands closer together, “-like this.”

It’s breaking up the lines and introducing the actions you need to convey where your words can’t do it for you - in the above example with Clint, when he’s looking for his words, I like to think that the reader can imagine him either moving his hands or looking thoughtful because he’s repeating himself, or he’s mumbling, or talking to himself, and therefore, I don’t have to tell the reader that he’s mumbling, because he’s doing it himself? (Does any of this even make sense???)

And, FINALLY, to answer your last question, any tips on finding a balance between action and dialogue would be writing the thing, and then leaving it be for a couple of hours and coming back to it, to read it with a pair of fresh eyes.

If the action scene slows down too much because of the dialogue, you don’t have to interrupt it with actual dialogue, but you can just write that they’re “exchanging swear words” or “yelling whenever their body takes a hit” instead of wanting to force the swear words into the narrative text, if that makes sense?

Otherwise, I don’t have any tips, other than reading your work again if you feel like you were struggling with it. Eventually, if you have someone who is willing to help you out, get a beta and ask them to look out for your pacing.

@kate-katiehawkeye helped me SO MUCH with Swallow Your Soul, like, the only reason that story makes a bit of sense if thanks to her amazing eyes.

I hope that this large and long pile of blubber managed to help you out a little bit? I am not the best at giving advice because I feel like half the stuff I’m doing is a total improvisation thing, so... I hope this helped! :D

#writing #writing tips #dialogue #verdelet #people ask christine stuff

12 notes · View notes