#he loved too much and it tore him apart from the inside :'3

[rooksamoris]

💞 — 𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐄.

💞 — in which you teach malleus a new phrase and he grows somber about your inevitable death.

💞 — malleus draconia x reader

💞 — warnings: hurt/comfort type fic. some descriptions of gore to emphasize heartache. reader does catch a cold. malleus is sad </3 mentions of death and mortality/fragility.

💞 — 1.2k words. various arab groups tell their loved ones 'taqburouni' meaning 'may you bury me' affectionately. i thought of malleus when i heard it again recently, since he very well would be stuck burying his loved ones. eid mubarak my lovelies!!

Taq-bu-rou-ni.

Malleus’s brows knitted in a bit of interest as he replayed your word in his mind, splitting each of the syllables to pronounce it the way you did. It was a foreign word, and for someone who knew bygone languages, this was a word he had not heard. You said it with a look of affection in your eyes. It was your way of being romantic, well, with the way you drawled the final vowel, that much was obvious.

“And what does that mean?” he asked, his bright green eyes following the shape of your silhouette as you walked. Those slitted pupils of his dilated. 

“Taqburouni? Ah, it means ‘may you bury me,’” you said, innocently. The words spilled from your lips like sugared blades, so sweet yet so painful. It clung to his skin and when he tried to pull away, it tore his skin.

He paused his walking for a moment, stopping you with him. Those words reminded him that he could spend a century dwelling on that term, while you could not even spare a minute. 

Taqburouni.

That phrase you had taught Malleus planted itself into his lungs and wrapped around his esophagus. He knew you meant it affectionately. It was your way of wishing him a long life, one long enough that he would get the chance to bury you. You had known all sorts of romantic sayings that bordered on being eerie and strange. The vines you were growing wrapped around his lungs and sunk their thorns into them greedily, causing sweet blood to splatter onto his ribcage.

He knew he would get the chance to bury you. His child of man was too frail to live as long as he.

His pause caused you some worry and you squeezed his hand, pulling it closer to you so that his knuckles hovered near your chest, “It’s weird, isn’t it?” you joked, your brows furrowed in concern, “It’s an affectionate way of wishing that someone you love has a long life… I get if it’s not your thing—I just—I—”

Malleus silenced you by placing his free hand on your head. He let it slide over your hair and behind your head. His long fingers threaded their way through some of the strands as he gripped the back of your head. They were like stubborn blossoms in a valley of wilting roses, desperate to keep you close and alive, “It is lovely, a fine way of showing affection,” he told you. 

The future king decided against telling you just how uncomfortable that term made him. It infiltrated his body like a strong virus, poisoning his body and eating away at his flesh from the inside. Just like the vines that you planted in his lungs, tearing him apart beneath the layer of flesh, muscle, and bone.

A smile came to your face at his reassurance and you kissed his knuckles, “I’m glad you think so, Malleus,” you told him. 

Taqburouni. He found it anything but lovely. Malleus understood the purpose of such a term, and he knew you were just being lovelorn, but Sevens. Each vowel was like a threat, each one getting closer to him losing you. Taq—and you were cut, bu—you were sick, rou—bedridden, ni—and suddenly he was back in the Briar Valley, standing before another tombstone. To him, it was purely unromantic. 

It was violent and it was cruel.

You shivered due to the cold breeze and his gaze hardened, “Let us return you to the dorm, beastie. You’ll freeze if you’re out any longer,” he said, taking his uniform blazer off to drape over your shoulders. This body of yours was so delicate. Too delicate.

“Oh, Malleus… but you’ll get cold,”

He laughed, “I think you forget who you’re speaking to,” he said, his eyes watching your body tense up slightly. That delicious blush covered your cheeks and he was tempted to freeze time right here. Surely there was a spell for that, that way he could keep you forever and your words, your plea that he buries you, would never come true.

Bashfully, you averted your gaze and kept walking beside him. Oh, how he wanted to pounce.

Days later, that poisonous word was still on his mind. 

It came up in particular when you caught a cold. The illness had been traveling around the school, your favorite duo from Heartslabyul had gotten it, but not nearly as bad as you. People had been coughing in class, sniffling as they walked through the halls—Malleus blamed himself for worsening it due to all the nights he dragged you away on romantic walks where he showed you the secrets of the campus.

Now he was sitting at your bedside in Ramshackle dorm. It was not nearly as dilapidated as it used to be. You had cleaned up a lot, bleaching whatever you could to kill sickness, and it still managed to sneak in. There were cracks in the windows… it probably made the nights even colder for you.

One of these beams could fall and kill you.

“Taqburouni.”

The blasted word repeated itself in his mind as he watched you squirm in your bed. Your breathing was shallow, you were sweating—he could end you with a raise of his finger, “Too fragile. Like a bird’s eggshell. All it would take is to push you out of a nest and then…” His brows furrowed as the back of his hand trailed down the side of your sickly face.

Your skin looked much less vibrant in this state.

This moment and thousands of others would pass him like a dream. One day he would bury you and then take the throne. Your bought of romance would end up being a dream. He would wake up with a crown on his head, black robes draping every inch of him, and the flickering memories you made here.

His fingers trailed down to your throat for a moment and he tapped the dainty skin with his sharp nails. Just the tiniest bit of pressure and you would bleed. Not even the strongest swords would break through his scales.

“Malleus,” you muttered, breathlessly as you tried to open your eyes. The light was too bright so all you could do was blearily squint at him before shutting your eyes again, “I feel so weak…”

“You look it too,”

“Huh?”

He stared at your face for a moment, taking in the way your eyes drifted back shut. Your brows knitted softly, and it made him want to kiss that space between your eyes, “Rest,” he whispered, his hand turning to cup your face. A bit of his magic traveled from the tips of his fingers to your skin, forcing you to inhale a green mist that would temporarily put you to sleep.

Malleus felt the urge to keep you in this state of sleep for one hundred years. Instead, he settled for leaning in and kissing your forehead, “May you bury me,” he whispered. He promised to find a way to keep you alive with him for good. He would find a way to keep everyone and everything he loved alive with him till he breathed his last flame.

[xoblondie]

The Forbidden Fruit

TW : 18+, stalkerish, dark!Mattheo, religious undertones, non-con content, prey/predator metaphors etc. Nothing is actually explicit but it’s all intended (HEAVY symbolism).

Temptation.

The cardinal sin that ravaged through his body, mimicking his blood flow. Taunting him with every movement you made. A war was ravaging inside Mattheo’s mind and body. A fight for control of his actions as he observed your every move.

A fight he was currently loosing, as he watched you amongst the crowd of your peers, moving seamlessly amongst them. Like you weren’t the only thing plaguing his mind no matter what he did. He couldn’t escape your fingers he found himself wrapped around. And you were completely oblivious to his unholy intentions and his lingering stares.

To him, you were as pure as powdered snow; you were soft, delicate and easy to fall into. Creating a mixture that made his mouth water with the thought of you. You were an elixir that he found himself hooked on, like an addict chasing a high.

To you, he was dark and corrupted. With bloodied knuckles and his teeth bared to the world, you knew he was bad news for you. His violence had no place amongst your peace, even if he had a peculiar place within your heart.

But what he wanted, he always got and he knew you were too innocent of heart to ever understand his underlying intentions. You were a lamb caught by a timber wolf. Purity that would be forcefully taken by a predator, no matter how much you fought back. A lamb would never grow up and grow the pointed canines it needed to protect its wool. And like a predator he would lure you away from the safety of your herd, into his sharp fangs.

In the later hours of the night, in a large leather chair perched by a fireplace, he watched your soft locks frame your face, accentuating the natural pout to your plump lips. You read your book as if it were an ancient text, showing you the answer to all your life’s questions. Your oversized sweater and tiny shorts struggling to cover the tops of your exposed thighs as you sat amongst the faded leather. Silky skin pooling against the existence of the fabric, accentuating your plump hips. The sight driving his primal urges to cave into his temptations.

His lamb was oblivious and vulnerable to the fate before them, as he closed in.

Stalking his lonesome prey, he would pin you down before biting your neck, leaving a reddened ring of his mouths artwork. Creating art out of you, all while you attempt to fight his lapse of control. He would eat your heart out. Ripping into it like a rich pomegranate, just trying to get to the fruitful seeds hidden beneath. And he would ignore as the juice stained his hands a bloody red, showcasing his corrupt actions. He would rip apart your ribs just to taste every part of your being. Drinking up your blood like cherry wine and kissing your lips as if they were the last thing he would ever taste in this life. The way he loved you was sacrilegious, an unholy tribute to the gods above.

He was godless in his actions, with roughened love and a darkness behind his fiery eyes. He burnt for you and only you. And you were a moth to his light, sacrificing yourself to his ritual as he tore away what was once pure.

Falling for his temptation was never your plan, but you became more and more addicted to his drug with every hit. No god could save you from the starving wolf as it striked down its prey.

You were his forbidden fruit, the lust he could never control. He would be bound to your soul forever, alike Persephone to the underworld. For your beauty was worth the mess he made of you. Destroying your light, to fulfill his dark sins and desires.

A/N: im afraid I ate with this one. LITERALLY. this is definitely a different writing style than what I normally do but I’m in LOVE with how this turned out <3

[pinievsev]

R E W I N D

Request: yes!

Warnings: none that I can think of tbh, lmk if you find something warning worthy tho!

Pairing: Bang Chan x male reader

Genre: angst to fluff-ish

Word count: 1,2k

Enjoy!<3

© pinievsev on all platforms

You sit on the porch of your small, rural home, staring out at the vast landscape that had become your sanctuary. The distant sound of wind rustling through the fields is the only noise breaking the silence, and for the first time in years, you're at peace—well, as much as you could be. This quiet, simple life is a far cry from the chaos that once consumed your days. A chaos that once had a name.

Bang Chan.

His face flashes in your mind, uninvited and unwanted. Even after all these years, the memories cling to you like scars. Your fingers instinctively trace the faint lines of your wedding ring that no longer exists on your hand. It’s been years since the divorce. Years since everything fell apart, since your families tore you both apart.

And yet, here you are, still trying to pick up the pieces.

---

Weeks pass uneventfully, the same routine grounding you, until one day, your peace is shattered by the arrival of a stranger. At first glance, he's just another person, passing through the province, but something about him catches your attention. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with a kind of quiet warmth in his eyes that draws you in.

“Excuse me,” he calls out, his voice gentle but unfamiliar. “I’m looking for the nearest convenience store... I seem to have gotten a little lost.”

You stand up, dusting off your hands, and offer a polite smile. “The store is a couple miles down the road. I can show you the way if you’d like.”

He grins, and for a brief moment, something about his smile sends an odd flicker of recognition through your chest. But you shake it off, dismissing it as nothing more than a fleeting thought. He introduces himself as Chris, and from that moment on, your life starts to shift.

Chris becomes a regular presence in your days. You bump into him in town, exchange pleasantries, and before long, he’s helping you with odd jobs around the house. He’s easy to talk to, and for the first time in a long while, you begin to feel something like hope stirring inside of you again.

He’s different—safe.

Or at least, that’s what you think.

---

One evening, as you’re both sitting on your porch, the sun setting behind the mountains, you find yourself opening up to him in a way you haven’t with anyone else in years.

“Why the province?” he asks, his voice soft. “Why here, so far away from everything?”

You hesitate, your chest tightening. You’ve never talked about it, not since you left. But something in Chris’s eyes—makes you want to say it.

“I needed to get away,” you admit, staring out into the distance. “There was someone... someone I loved, but it didn’t work out. Family issues, you know?” You laugh bitterly. “I thought it was for the best, but—” You stop, realizing you’re saying too much.

Chris is silent for a long moment, and when he finally speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper. “Do you still love him?”

You blink, caught off guard by the question. “I... I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. He’s gone.”

But Chris doesn’t reply. Instead, he looks away, his jaw clenched tightly as if he's holding back something. And then, before you can question him further, he stands up abruptly.

“I should go.”

---

It’s only later that night, as you lie in bed, replaying the conversation in your mind, that it hits you.

The voice. The smile. The way he always seemed to know what to say, how to comfort you without ever asking too much. It all clicks into place, and your heart drops into your stomach.

It’s him.

Chris... Chan.

Bang Chan, your ex-husband, the one person you swore you would never let back into your life. He’s been right in front of you this whole time, lying to you, pretending to be someone else.

You feel sick.

---

The next day, you don’t bother going into town. You don’t bother doing anything at all, really. The hurt is overwhelming, suffocating. You trusted him. After everything, you let him back in, and he couldn’t even tell you the truth.

There’s a knock at your door, and you know it’s him. You can feel it in your bones.

“Go away,” you call out, your voice breaking. “I don’t want to see you.”

“Please,” Chan—no, Chris—says from the other side. “Let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain! You lied to me! You pretended to be someone else! I—” Your voice falters, and tears blur your vision. “I never want to see you again.”

There’s silence, and for a brief moment, you think he’s left. But then, you hear his voice again, softer this time, broken.

“I never wanted to hurt you. I thought if I came back as myself, you’d push me away before I even had a chance. And I—I wanted another chance.”

You stay quiet, too hurt to respond.

“I know I messed up. I know I should’ve told you from the start, but I just... I didn’t want to lose you again. I’ve spent every day since our divorce thinking about you, about us. And I—I want to make it right. No more families, no more conflict. Just us. I want us to have a family, our own family.”

Your heart aches at his words. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to let him in again. But the hurt is too fresh, too raw.

“I can’t,” you whisper, shaking your head, even though he can’t see you. “I can’t go through that again.”

There’s a long pause, and when Chan speaks again, his voice is thick with emotion. “I’ll wait for you. As long as it takes, I’ll wait.”

And with that, you hear his footsteps retreating, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

---

Days pass, and the weight of everything hangs heavy in the air. You try to go back to your routine, but it’s impossible. Chan’s words echo in your mind, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t shake them.

“I’ll wait for you.”

Eventually, you find yourself walking down the familiar path to his hotel your heart pounding in your chest. You don’t know what you’re going to say, but you need to see him. You need to know if you can forgive him, if there’s any part of you that’s still willing to try.

When you finally reach his door, you hesitate for a moment before knocking.

It swings open almost immediately, and there he is—Chan, standing in front of you, his expression a mixture of hope and fear.

“I’m sorry,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so angry, and I don’t know if I can ever fully trust you again, but... I don’t want to lose you either.”

His eyes soften, and he steps forward, closing the distance between you. “I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again,” he says, his voice steady. “I’ll wait as long as you need.”

You look up at him, your heart pounding, and for the first time in years, you allow yourself to hope.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let’s try.”

---

Taglists:

All: @camphxam , @expelideliciousjoshua

Stray kids: @dominos-palast

[llondonfog]

fratricida

much love and gratitude to @cheshanoneko-draws for allowing me to bastardize interpretation of their wonderful post <3

Lilia fought.

He expected nothing less from the venerable fae, and he would have even felt an awe befitting of his young years once upon a time for the chance to test the limitless hunger of his magic against the General in his prime. He might have even lost— the weight of tactical experience versus raw power and all that.

But this was no simple training duel, and Malleus was no longer bound by the glass chains of cultivated restraint and noble intentions. Lilia— the fae whom he had once dared to conspire deep within the lonely chambers of his heart as one he might call father— had lied to him. Had betrayed him.

He had betrayed them all.

And with that squalling, raging hellfire of an inferno inside of his ruined heart burnt to the blackest of cinder dust, neither Lilia-the-General nor Lilia-the-Laughing-Lying-Pleading-Father ever stood a chance against the might of his overblot-fueled control.

It wasn’t revenge that he was after, no. It was complete and utter devastation. There was only one way to right this tragic wrong, and that was to destroy every trace of the source from the start. And so, blind and deaf to the fae’s horrified and broken pleas as Lilia, clever Lilia, became all too quickly keen on just what Malleus was searching for as he tore apart the memories in his mind with a savage desperation, scattering snatches of laughter and dappled sunshine and the warmth of tiny hands to the ether— he found them. 

For a moment, he nearly hesitated. For a moment, he could nearly see a faint outline of the boy, curled up in his palms in a slumber so familiar that it nearly beckoned Malleus to wake him. An outline of a boy adored by the sun and cherished by the moon, a beloved child of both day and night, blessed beyond his means and measure.

A sin, one that should have never existed.

Here in the middle of a maelstrom brought to bear by the consequences of all those who had ever come before him, he tasted it at last— a madness, of the same kind that consumed the brilliant, dark star of his mother. In his ears, he can hear her voice, high and cold and cruel in her breathless satisfaction to see the curse she had brought forth into this world enact the vengeance she had been robbed of without dignity.

“My son will become king of this land, and his light will shine down upon our peoples as our North star… As for the humans, they shall fear him, they shall fear his light as the harbinger of their doom.”

And with one simple crush of Malleus’ snarled claws, as the warping memories writhed and shrieked and spilled as viscous as lamb’s blood betwixt his fingers, Lilia Vanrouge forgot that he ever had another son.

[arislary]

Brewing Chemistry (3/5) Han Jisung x (f) reader

Synopsis: Reader and Jisung feel the obvious connection coursing between them, but misunderstandings leave them on uneven ground. Reader begins to fall into old mindsets, struggling with the thought she ruined her one shot with Jisung. Will this end their connection before it can really begin?

Pairing: Han Jisung x (f) reader

Genre: fluff, eventual smut, strangers to lovers, coffee-shop au, non-idol au, meet-cute au

Warning: fluff, eventual smut, slight angst, slight dom/sub, slight Dom Jisung, slight Sub reader, cute nicknames, spit kink, makeouts, i lied about it being a slow-burn, moving too fast?, insecurity, sad Jisung, sad reader, jealous!Jisung, communication is key! bf!Felix, 3RACHA, alcohol use, drug use mentioned (stoner!reader) (let me know if I missed anything)

WC: 3.5k

AN: some more angst from reader as we navigate the aftermath of the first date, if there's one thing I hate it's misunderstandings, but ugh I love to write them! UNEDITED

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

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

Part 1 -> Part 2 -> Part 3 -> Part 4 -> Part 5

It had been close to about two weeks since I had last seen Jisung. Two weeks since he came over to comfort me. Two weeks since he left me a quivering mess in my kitchen, sitting a puddle of my desire. Two weeks since he walked out of my apartment after staying up until 2 am, over cups of coffee, talking. I could still feel the warmth of his hand, the only contact we allowed ourselves after the kitchen- I don’t know what to call that honestly. I could feel the growing bubble of ‘what ifs’ already taking root inside me. I am dumb, so dumb.

I totally scared him off, way to play it cool, man! I pulled the scrunchy from my hair, letting the waves come down around my shoulders. I scrubbed a hand through my hair, groaning as I slumped forward, elbows resting on my knees.

I had been sitting in my living room, trying desperately not to think about Jisung. Or his hair. Or his eyes. Or his hands. Or his- 

Did I think we would start dating after that? 

DUH. Okay no, not really, but maybe at least something!

To be fair, we had received a new project at work that had me around the clock, night and day working and I genuinely struggled with texting back anyone, but it wasn’t like he was also asking me to hang out either! I grumbled, looking down at my phone again to the still ‘0’ notifications. I could feel myself starting to get anxious and angry. ‘Please tell me you feel the same way’ my ass. I groaned and flung myself back against the couch, narrowing my eyes at the tv screen, Criminal Minds playing the background. I had been watching this when he was here- already 6 seasons past that point. I pouted and rubbed my socked feet together, my fingers tracing the dragons tattooed on my thighs.

Wow this.. actually sucks. I could feel start to wake up in the back of my mind, that dark inkling fear of being alone. That I'm alone. Always alone. I bite my lip, scrolling through my favorites and quickly calling my only lifeline. 

“Hello!?”

“Lix?” 

I could hear the rustling of phone as it sounded like he was holding it between his head and shoulder. I could hear him grunt and immediately tore my phone away from my hear, disgust present on my life. All previous emotions putting a pause.

“Oh! Felix- what the fuck! You better not be having sex!”

“PFFT! ______!” He sounded scandalized, his gasp a dramatic high pitched noise. “Why that’s not very nice!” 

I rolled my eyes at my best friend, a ruthful smile present on my lips. If there was one thing I could be sure of, I really wasn't alone, as much as my mind liked to convince me.

“Actually yea, I take that back. You are that much of a pervert-”

“Exactly!”

“-At least you have shame to hide your weird kinks!” The smirk growing on my lips.  

“Yea! At least I have- Hey! What the fuck are we even talking about right now!? Did you just call to insult me?” Felix growled over the phone, his voice going back down to a deeper pitch. I snorted as he hurriedly explained that his kinks weren’t weird, but linked to our genes and traumas. “-And another thing! We DON’T kink shame in this household!” 

“God, that Sex and Psych class really did something for you didn’t it?” Referring back to the elective course he and I both took to get our final Humanities credit. The class wasn’t bad and actually really informative, but it left a lasting impression on Felix, who ended up staying an extra two years to minor in psychology specifically about sexuality. And to think this guy wanted to go into business. 

“I’ll have you know humans are complex creatures and society has been made it to a mission to shame us for what-“

“Alright dude, we don’t have all night for this, now did you want to hangout tonight or not?”

“Well jeez! I don’t think I even remembered you asking if I was free!?” I whined into the phone, my foot stomping on the carpet.

“Pleeaaseee Lix! I just- I gotta go out or something!” He tsked through the phone before relenting saying he’d meet me in 10 to head to our favorite bar. 

***********************************

Pulling up to the Rooftop was always a hassle, but thankfully, Felix decided to order you both an Uber so that he could get as he said “blacked the fuck out”, I whined telling him it was me who was having a rough few weeks, I deserved to be getting fucked up.

"Please, ______, don't act like I didn't smell the two joints you smoked before I even arrived-" I smirked at Felix as he shook his head in disbelief. "-like legit, it took 10 minutes to get to you."

I shrugged, my eyes falling closed. "What can I say? I'm a connoisseur."

Passing the bouncer, our IDs already out and displayed as he let us walk in. The beat of the music and loud chatter from bar patrons drowned everything out as I pulled the strap of my tiny purse further up my shoulder. I walked towards the bar, wiggling my fingers at Sana, who winked at me as she finished handing a customer a drink. She whistled and eyed me up a down as she came over to our side of the bar. I had chosen a form fitting black jumpsuit, with long sleeves and thumb holes and my white kicks. 

“______, look I know I hit on you jokingly-“ I gasped in mock-offense, my arms crossing against the bar, boobs pushing up together, smirking as Sana’s eyes darted down, watching a slight flush hit her cheeks. “But for real, give me a chance, baby.”

Baby. I felt my heart stutter. My mind immediately flashing images of a certain brown-haired, brown-eyed boy. I focus back on Sana, and give her wink. “Who knows, Sana! You just might win me yet!” She laughed, her pretty lips tugging back in a smile as she prepared our usual drinks.

And honestly, why not give her a chance, Sana was hot as fuck, witty, and charming as hell. 

But she’s not Jisung-

Exactly! She wouldn’t basically ghost me after making me feel endless universes’ colliding in my stomach, ruining me for anyone from just a stupid kiss. Sana placed a rum and coke down in front of me and a vodka red bull for Felix. We cheers, both quickly throwing back the entire glass and slamming them down on the bar. I moaned and threw my head back. 

“Felix, this is literally what I needed, you don’t understand!” I pouted and looked over at him, eyes shining brightly. “Am I ugly?”

Felix started nodding before I finished, face sympathetic. 

“I thought you knew-“

“Hey!” A laugh bursted from my lips, as I slapped his arm. “You asshole! I’m serious-"

“So am I!” I pinched his side and he yelped, jumping in his barstool. His knee banged against the bottom of the bar and I fell in a fit of laughter against it.

“T-that’s what y-you fucking get!” Felix rubbed at his knee, eyes glaring at me as he asked Sana for another drink, purposefully making a point to ask her not to give me another. That sobered me up quickly as I pouted, reaching towards Sana with grabby hands. “Don’t listen to him! You’ve known me longer.”

“True-“ Sana ran her tongue over her bottom lip, clicking and tilting her head to the side. She turned her gaze to Felix, who leaned in smiling at her, the glitter around his eyes making him look ethereal as the transparent shirt shimmered like water as he lifted his hand to glide a finger across Sana’s hand that rested flat on the counter. “But I wouldn’t mind taking a dip in the deep end with you, Lix.”

I grimaced pulling back from them. 

“How could you! I thought what we had was special!”

“_________?” 

My back straightens as I whip around to see those eyes. Those big, beautiful eyes. Those big, beautiful, dumb eyes. 

“Jisung.”

He blanches, the hopeful look in his eyes faltering as he took in my cold demeanor. I could feel the blood rushing to my ears, god why did he have to look like that? His hair looked soft as ever, dressed in a black long sleeve shirt, black pants, and chunky boots. His gold necklaces sparkled. I hated it. He looks sooo fucking good. 

“Uh- h-hey, how’ve you been?”

“Fine. Yourself?” Jisung now frowns, his eyes darting all over my face. He must have found what he was looking for as I watch him visibly dissolve in front of me. Ah fuck now that hurts. He shoves his hands in his pocket, rocks back on his heels. 

“It’s alright, _______. I get it-“ he cleared his throat, a nervous laugh coming out as he ran a hand through his hair. “I hope you have a really good night. And uh-“ his eyes flickered over to Felix, something passing through them. “Be safe.” 

He mumbled out the last part and turned around quickly. I watched as he shuffled back towards a booth in the corner. I could recognize the two men that had accompanied him to the cafe, watching us with still curious eyes, except now, one of them met my gaze with a frown. Alright, now why's he looking at me like that. I turned back around to be met a raised eyebrow from Felix. He nodded his head over to the booth and leaned closer to me.

“Is that him?” I avert my gaze and take a peak behind me to find, oh god-

He’s staring. 

And he looks so sad. 

I turned back forward, choosing to ignore Felix's question as he already figured out just who left me in turmoil yet again, calling out for Sana to give me two shots of rum and another round of our drinks. Felix sputtered next to me, scandalized. 

“I was gonna be the one to black out!”

I scoffed at him, downing one of the shots and shoving the other towards him. 

“I don’t want to get drunk, I need courage.” 

Felix gave me a look, his eyes softening and an understanding passed through them. He gave me a small smile, hand reaching over to pat me on the top of my back, rubbing my shoulder. Felix threw his shot backs, coughing lightly. 

“God I hate rum- you’re sick for enjoying this so much-“ he turns his body towards me, his chin resting on his hand as his other arm came to rest on the back of my stool. I watch as his gaze goes to something behind and a surprised look makes itself known, his mouth forming the shape of an 'o'. “Also, I can’t help, but think maybe you won’t need anything liquid courage with the way he’s staring at yo- actually no, glaring at me really.”

Wait, HUH?!

I grabbed onto Felix’s arm and dug my nails in. Felix yelps, trying to tug his arm out of my hold. My cheeks suddenly felt hot and I reached to take a sip of my drink, chewing on the tip of the straw. 

“Is he really?” Felix snorted, sipping on his second vodka red-bull. His gaze going back behind me, and an evil smirk making its way onto his face. 

“Oh yea, I don't think he's stopped since he sat back down to be honest with you,” I gasped, my mouth falling open, eyes sparkling, before letting go of his arm finally to down the rest of my drink. I hopped up from my stool, slamming my purse down on the bar, giving Felix a look. 

“Guard this with your life. Now I’m gonna casually turn so I can see his cute dumb face and then I gotta pee like hella badly.”

Felix chuckled, before leaning in, placing a hand on top of mine and squeezed it. His nose almost touches mine and the smirk on his face widens. 

“Wanna make him jealous?” 

I roll my eyes and push at his shoulder, snorting at him. So stupid. I wasn’t one to be petty in that way. I preferred a more intimate type of pettiness and while I may be so frustrated at him, I didn’t want Jisung to think I was like that. Fuck him. I shook my head at Felix and turned to head in the direction of the bathroom. I started at the almost desperately helpless eyes that met my stare as I took my first few steps.

Jisung sat in the booth with what looked like an air of casualness, legs spread so that one was under the table, the other in front of him. I would've thought he was indifferent if it had not been the erratic bouncing of his leg, slight rubbing of his hand on his knee, and that look in his eyes told me he was anything, but indifferent.

I bite my lip, furrowing my brow, absolutely confused. Honestly, it really wouldn’t hurt me if I just reached back out to him. It's not like he hates me or anything, but still why didn't he ever text me. The phone does go both ways, I could’ve- should’ve said something more. This was my problem, why I spent countless nights, sitting in my room. 

Because it’s hard!

I averted my gaze from his, moving quickly to the bathroom. I finished my business, washing my hands before I’m left staring at the mirror. I did look good, beautiful even, my suit accentuating my figure and I turned to gaze at myself. A small smile made its way on my face, before I realized, I wish I was here with Jisung. Not that Felix wasn’t great company, but seeing him here.. All I wanted was for us to hold hands again. To kiss me again. To have him smile at me as he calls me 'his baby'.

Oh god. 

I shuttered at that, man was I sick. Hold hands with a guy once and now I’m obsessed. Maybe I should start therapy again. I threw out the paper towel, thankful that Rooftop was at least conscious of making the indoor bathroom a push door. I pushed it open with my butt, hands going up into my hair to form a bun, having forgot my hair-tie in my purse, feeling like I was starting to heat up from anxious feelings starting to surface. God, I need a hit. I gasp, my hands tightening in my hair as I found Jisung leaning- waiting -against the opposite wall from the restroom. His hands were shoved in his pockets, his head down, but shooting up once he heard the door opening. 

“Hi.”

“H-hi,” god he was so cute. He cleared his throat, standing up straight. He shuffled closer to me, his eyes hard to read as he gave me a soft smile. I watched his eyes slowly run down the length of my body, taking me in completely for the first time. He gradually returned to my gaze, his face almost unreadable, but I could see he was holding himself back. Back from what? “You look really beautiful tonight. I uh- I had wanted to tell you earlier. I- I’m sorry if I interrupted your date or if I-“

“Felix is just my best friend,” Jisung’s mouth snapped closed, his eyes flashing up to mine. “And I’ve never even remotely had feelings for him whatsoever and neither has he for me.” 

Jisung continued to stare at me, his expression growing even more unreadable. It was just like that first day meeting, I could see the gears turning in his brain as he needed a second to reset. Having let my hair fall from the initial shock of seeing him, my arms wrapped around the middle of my stomach and I stepped closer to him. 

“I just need you to know that I’m not talking to anyone or anything,” I took a deep breath, rubbing the tops of my arms before looking him the eyes again. “And, I’m sorry I didn’t text you. It’s not an excuse, but I got busy with work and I’m just not good- not the best at time management, but I'm working on that- but I could- should have at least said something to you.”

Jisung immediately starts shaking his head, hands coming out of his pockets to finally reach towards me, but pulling back at the last second. Biting his lip hard, his hands forming fists at his sides.  

“No, Ba- _______- fuck- Please don’t apologize. Fuck, I’m sorry, it’s on me. I should’ve been the one to call you and reach out. But-“ He groaned, scrubbing his hands into his hair, frustration and desperation oozing from his pores. I could feel myself perk up slightly, ears already picking up on the word he nearly dropped. I stared at him as he looked everywhere else, but me, his lips pouting. “You had just been so vulnerable with me and god I felt like I had taken advantage of you-“

“Taken advantage?”

“I mean there you are crying about your bad day, only trying to just tell me about it and I- I kiss you!”

“I wanted you to kiss me.”

“God, I felt like such an asshole, but you just looked so beautiful and sweet and just small and were looking at me like you just needed me and- wait what did you say?”

I laughed, finally closing the distance between, hand grabbing a hold of his fist, pushing my fingers to interlock with his. 

“I wanted you to kiss me and I really enjoyed it. You have been the only thing on my mind and I do want to apologize that you felt that way-" I shook my head, taking a step closer to him. "Jisung that was the best unconventional first date I’ve ever had. I didn’t feel taken advantage of at all.”

It was his turn to laugh, one out of relief, as he pulled my hand towards him, his other hand coming to wrap around my waist, his forehead coming to rest on mine. His eyes were closed, but I could feel the tension slowing leaving his body the longer he held me. 

"Baby, I can't tell you- I mean I just, fuck," I muffle my laugh, digging into his embrace. "The boys were telling me I was getting too much in my head and that you would have said if you were uncomfortable-"

"True."

"I just- you're so cool to me and I feel like I'm doing everything for the first time."

I bite my lip, taking a deep breath of his cologne as I rubbed my cheek against his shirt. "I feel it too, so I get it and I could have also just sent you a text too-

"No!" Jisung shook his head, arms tightening around me. "That was on me, pretty, definitely dropped the ball on that. I'm taking full responsibility!"

I laughed as I pulled my head away to look up at him.

"Jisung?"

"Hmmm?" He has this content smile on his face, swaying us as we held on.

"Will you go on a date with me?"

The swaying stopped and a deep red bloomed on his cheeks. Jisung stared down at me in wonder. His breathing stopped too as he continued to gawk at me.

“Are- you’re sure?”

I nodded, my hand coming to rest on his cheek as I leaned up to peck his lips. I moved back and smiled at the dazed look on his face, smothering the laugh the was threatening to come out, I rubbed my thumb back and forth on his chubby cheek. 

“I’m sure,” he basically melted into my hold, both of his arms now wrapping around my waist and lifting me slightly off the floor. I shrieked, hugging him closer, nails scratching lightly at his back.

"Fuck yes! Holy shit! You're my girlfriend!"

"I said a 'date'!" Laughter spilling from my lips, as he mumbled 'details' and 'soon' in between the pecks he left on all over my face.

Yea sometimes I could be really dumb. As Jisung squeezed me tighter to him. Really dumb. As he held my hand, walking us out to meet with his friends who had migrated to the bar now speaking with Felix. Like so enormously dumb. As he kept his arm around my waist the rest of night, excitedly introducing me to his friends and co-producers, Bangchan and Changbin (or as they call themselves as a group, 3RACHA). Like maybe Felix had been right with how many times he’s called me ‘pabo’. Because what was I thinking that I could have scared this guy off? I looked up at him, catching his gaze as he spoke animately to Felix about ‘Clash of Clans’ and without skipping a beat, he leaned down, his lips grazing mine before pulling away to continue speaking with Felix, who was now fake gagging along with Bangchan and Changbin. 

Yea I could be totally dumb sometimes, to think I could have missed out on him. So dumb.

[zerobaselove]

an arm's length | kim taerae

pairing: taerae x reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 951

warnings: some minor swearing. lowercase intended, not proofread

notes: loooooove me some angst into fluff. i feel like this is still kinda rough but i got a couple angst with a fluff ending requests for taerae so i thought i'd fulfill those :D i hope u all enjoy <3

close, but not close enough to burn. that was your rule. never let anyone close enough to burn you, don't let yourself get hurt. you had lived by those words for as long as you could remember, and you were pretty good at sticking to them; until kim taerae came along. and now you find yourself basking in the warmth, not worrying about the flames.

that would be your downfall, you just knew it. but you couldn't help it, couldn't help but getting close. keeping an arm's length turned into keeping yourself in his arms, and you didn't know how to handle it. didn't know how to go back to being cold.

sure, the two of you weren't anything official. nothing more than two friends.

two friends who kissed behind closed doors. two friends who fell asleep together more often than not. two friends who danced around the word love as if it would suddenly make everything too real, too fast. as if it would ignite and burn everything you had done, just like it burnt the walls you had built up.

even just the thought of love, the prospect of it all; of loving him, and the potential of him loving you back. the feeling tore at the walls of your heart brick by brick. years of hard work crumbling before your very eyes.

you were falling, you knew that. whether you meant for him, or falling apart, nobody would ever know. was there even really a difference?

fight or flight. a human's innate response to dealing with a threat. even if that threat was on your heart. and what would save you from falling? flying.

so you couldn't have been too surprised at the pounding at the door one night, opening the door slowly to reveal a disheveled and worried taerae. the one who had shown you what it meant to love, who made you face the fear of falling.

taerae was looking how you were feeling; a mess. out of breath from presumably running up the stairs to your front door, hair disheveled and glasses askew on his face.

"i have't heard from you in days," he panted out, "and when i tried to call you it wouldn't even ring through, i thought something happened." his voice was laced with worry, and you couldn't stop your heart from beating out of your chest. he cared. he really cared.

you opened the door wider, ushering him inside to take a seat in the familiar living room. "sorry about that," you muttered, remembering why you were ignoring him in the first place, "my phone's been dead and i just forgot to charge it." only a partial lie. your phone really was dead, but not for the last week or so that you hadn't messaged him.

"that's bullshit and you know it," he shook his head, "just talk to me."

talking. easier said than done with a heart seemingly beating in your throat. it didn't leave much room for the words to push past, now did it?

sitting opposite of him on the couch, the two of you sat in silence. the tension was so thick you felt like you were choking on it, trying not to breathe it in; your chest tightened, clawing for a breath of air. and so, you stopped holding your breath. you let yourself be vulnerable, even for a moment.

"i'm scared," you breathed out, not knowing what else to say. you hadn't thought this far ahead, but the softened eyes and small, urging smile seemed to help the words form.

"i just," another deep breath, "i'm scared because, i've never felt this way about someone. i've never let myself be vulnerable, and it's terrifying." you don't know when his hand found it's way to yours, but you were thankful for it, for the way it tethered you back to the earth and away from your mind. "i love what we are, and i want it, want you, permanently. but i can't get past the voice in the back of my head saying that i'm going to ruin it, or that i'm gonna get hurt again."

you felt like you were running out of breath, taking a moment for another inhale and exhale before letting the words continue to spill.

"kim taerae, i don't know how you did it but you got past the walls that i had built up, the ones meant to keep you out, meant to keep my feelings locked away. and now you're here, and i want you here," you choked on the tears now rolling down your face, "but i'm scared."

taerae gently lifted his free hand to wipe the tears from your cheeks, looking at you with more fondness than you were even sure was possible. "i'm scared too y/n," he pressed his lips together, "every day i am terrified that maybe you don't want me beyond our bedroom doors, that beyond the threshold, i'm just another friendly face to you."

he lightly squeezed your hand as the tears threatened to spill from his own eyes. how long had his eyes been so glossy? so full of stars, and yet so full of the fear of a sky without them.

he took a moment to collect himself, now holding both of your hands in his. "but it's a lot less scary alone," he smiled gently, "you don't have to be scared alone, not anymore"

the tears had begun rolling again as you leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips, feeling his own tears on your cheeks, mixing with your own.

maybe falling wasn't so bad, as long as you had a partner to do it with.

[blushedarmybunny]

After his Shadow || Jeon Jungkook x Fem Reader

♡ Pairing: Athlete!Jeon Jungkook x fem reader

♡ Word count: 2.6 k

♡ Genre: Angst (m), toxic relationship.

♡ summary:

He is the most loved athlete in Korea, and you are just his girlfriend until after four years you decide to leave him and is the best and at the same time the worst thing you could have ever done.

♡ a/n: I hope you like it, anon that requested this piece i made it angsty bc that is the vibe i got, idk but I maybe write a part 2 please comment if you want.

PART 2 IT'S UP

There is no feeling to describe how dysfunctional your personal relationship with Jeon Jungkook is and how it casts so many shadows on your own personal demons. You can barely recognize yourself even when you are detoxicating from all the shit you had to put up in the past 4 years. After breaking up with him you supposed to feel free but instead a sense of dread crept out behind you every day leaving you with lack of sleep and shakings all over your body, or as they call it anxiety.

You’d been hiding from everyone, deep rooted in your grandfather lake house which you had the spare key, that’s where you had been laying in bed for the past week and a half, just answering your mom’s text and eating less to not have the necessity of going out for groceries. Yes, you were far from Korea but you know that they will find you, they always find you.

The press, the obsessive fans or just about anyone that follows up the sports stars in the world of football, because Jeon Jungkook is big, more than that he is a superstar well loved by the public especially, his fans. He is very young but also very talented and has too much fame and power to the point he is almost untouchable. In his own country he is almost a god, no Korean football player can dream to become as big as him, whenever he is outed somewhere the traffic literally stops while crowds of people gather following his pace, after all he is the team leader who brought South Korea their first world cup, his team mates were now globally famous because of this and after the absolute pandemonium that was taking the glory to his country Jeon Jungkook became an athlete legend.

Every girl would throw herself at his feet, so everyone was shocked when he publicly announced his relationship with you four years ago, you had no idea what were you doing back them, all you can do now is regret your naivety. You had some idea that your new boyfriend was wealthy but everything progressed fast, too fast, to realize the extend of his fame. You suddenly were kissing for the first time and next thing you know is him posting on his insta that you two are boyfriend and girlfriend and then it hit you. You blame yourself for not google him before accepting going out with him after a casual party in a bar, it was so stupid but not more than the face the press photographed the day after the post, you were cluelessly walking down the street trying to grab some coffee and then some people run to your side with cameras in their hands, flashing lights all over, such a confusing situation that you ran back to your apartment and demand explanations from him.

From there it was a wild ride, crazy calls from every person you knew, your 3-digit following account rising up to the six digits on the same day, Jungkook stopping by so casually that it must have raise an alarm inside you but it didn’t, it fucking didn’t.

So that brought your path to what is your life in this moments, a full grown women hiding under the blankets deleting every picture on her phone, dried eyes, no tears just dark circles and a undecipherable expression. Suddenly you came across a blurry picture from way back, cheeks fuller and a bubbly smile, it was cute at the moment but the people had tore apart every single detail of your face that you can’t  longer find anything nice about that moment of your life. That’s why you didn’t bother to check any of your socials, the aftermath of the breakup was too ugly and you were the villain, you were always the villain.

Because Jeon Jungkook was Korea’s national treasure, not only nationals but his fans all over the world would defend him before anything and anyone, fame was a weapon that could be used against you and he realized that very soon into the relationship, you did something that made him upset? He can post some pathetic tweets leaving some hints. You try to push back from his ‘love’ and ‘protection’? he misses goals at an important match and points out to press after that he has been feeling ‘emotionally unstable’. God forbids you ask to take some time from the relationship because he would cancel a match making a social media circus and you being guilt tripped and publicly shamed back to him.

All of that just to everyday being gaslighted by everyone in how lucky you truly are for being his girlfriend, it was a sick joke.

“And what the fuck is this? Are you out of your fucking mind, Yn?” Jungkook yelled at you while he showed you a picture of you in your best friend’s boyfriend birthday, you had know him since uni, your best friend and him were engaged, you had known him for so many years that you greeted him with a hug  and that was exactly what you were doing in the picture, but the angle, oh that damn angle made you look like you were kissing each other.

“You tell me you are in a trip with your friends and this is what you fucking do? I look like the biggest fool in the news!” Jungkook sentenced while you look at him with concern.

“I was just hugging him!” you fight back, his eyes made an imponent statement at your direction.

“Why are you hugging another man? How is that proper, tell me?” his ironic tone made an echo through your head.

“You really baffle me, I hugged him because he is my friend and because I wanted to? Who you think you are to control me?” you snapped back at his rhetoric but he didn’t seem pleased at your response.

“You rub your tits in another man’s chest and when I don’t like that you are the one who gets mad? You truly are something…” Jungkook scoffed  “Can you see that you and your so called ‘friend’ is making me look bad?”

“This is so fucking tiring, what are we exactly discussing here? I told you I was hugging a friend end of conversation”

“Is that so? You don’t care then? When people laugh in my face and later call you a slut?” Jungkook said bitterly, he was mocking you, because he knew how things worked in his world.

“You know this is exactly why I think we don’t make sense, you seem to take pleasure in making me doubt myself and making everyone dislike me!” you can feel the tears wanting to come out but have to be strong.

“You need to know your place, Yn, you know you are in the wrong when the crowd it’s calling you out, if they are calling you a slut then…”

You hit him across his face, it was no use because your strength could not really hurt him, but it did caught his attention.

“it’s not fair, and never will be, they are on your side always and you know that!” you exclaimed clenching your teeth, Jungkook at the sight of your frustration he smiled.

“that’s right it’s not fair, knowing that information and you still dare to slap me? Don’t you know my next match is in two hours I have to leave this apartment in a few minutes and when they see the pictures leaving this apartment upset, a mark on my cheek and later a low performance on the match, what they will think of you?” Jungkook asked still smiling, you gasped in horror.

“Yeah exactly, now apologize to me and I will consider to put a mask when I go outside” there he  was being in control again, he had you cornered, he made you small.

“I’m sorry” you murmured, his hands grabbed your face making you look up to him, his eyes scanning yours, he leaned over and kissed your lips, you move your move lazily corresponding to his more passionate kiss.

“That’s right, baby, I know you are sorry”

You rolled over bed and kept deleting all you could, the memory has left you with a bitter taste in the mouth that quickly made you nauseous you run into the bathroom to throw up, while you wash up you look at your pathetic reflection in the mirror the same pathetic expression of that time when you actually tried to left him thanks to his very public indiscretion.

The aftermath of all that mess is threatening you with a head ache but the mind still goes to that specific place.

“How dare you, huh?! You bark at any man that glances at my direction but you go to a fucking yacht party kissing every model on sight!” you throw the tabloid at his face, he looks up with his big doe eyes, parting his mouth like he was just exposed without any warning, he blinked a few times perplexed “You pathetic scum I should had neve-“

“I know you are mad” he simply said and you can feel your eye twitching in disbelief. “Can you calm down a bit”

“Calm down?!”

“Look I’m sorry okay, it won’t happen again it was a stupid mistake” he brushed off the whole situation like it was nothing and you were starting to lose it.

“Mistake? Are you fucking kidding me? There are videos, Jungkook, you seem pretty fucking chill while those bitches are sitting on your lab…”

“Yn…”

“Then you kissed them like it was the most fucking natural thing to do…”

“Oh my god, stop, it’s not that big of a deal, I apologized!”

“And you expect me to accept it?”

“Those girls nobody knows them, but you are my girlfriend, aren’t you?” he asked with an irritated expression.

“I don’t understand you, Jungkook, I really don’t, let’s just break up that way you can kiss all the models you want” you responded completely tired of his bullshit.

“You are still mad, I see” he said standing up and walking towards you.

“Don’t go near me!” you warned him but he keeps coming close until he is in front of you then he takes your hips and pulls you down while he takes a seat in the couch, you end up in his thigh.

“I know baby, you must be angry” said affirming you in his leg, you were only wearing a skirt so your underwear was the only barrier against his muscular thigh, you got nervous. “You don’t have anything to be jealous about, you want this don’t you? You saw me in the video doing this and now you want me to take you in that way?” he asked looking at your eyes and your lip trembling he grabbed your hips and move you hitting that precious spot making you pant.

“that’s right baby” Jungkook said an erection forming in his shorts “I know you want to move” he said to you with a cheeky smile you closed your eyes and nodded you felt how he spank you with dry sound, the wetness now lubricating Jungkook’s thigh, he always looked good in uniform.

“how do you call me?” he asked while pulling up his shirt showing his abs and taking out his growing cock jerking it a few times, he spanked your ass once again when you didn’t respond.

“…Daddy” you managed to say between moans, now fully moving your hips in his thigh while he jerks up, you did not last much longer and while you had your orgasm the grin that Jungkook gave you was enough to sink you after your high, back into humiliation.

“You fucking slut, ugh you’re so hot” he said between his heavy pants, his seed spilled all over his abdomen soon enough when you were washing up in the shower, he turned you over to wash your hair with shampoo then he suddenly whispered in your ear:

“While I’m right here taking care of you I still can’t bother to remember those girls names or faces” he said while he continued to massage your head “ you have nothing to worry about” you closed your eyes trying to believe in his words, that’s all you wanted in that moment.

Your stomach growled screaming for food, you walked to the kitchen making the laziest thing you could and swallowing it, then back to bed, that has been your routine the past week, you felt disappointed in yourself, at the end of the day that’s what Jungkook has done to you, he left you so empty.

Because of both of your natures your relationship continued to be unstable and the public was right there to enjoy the circus, every single time.

It didn’t matter how many more indiscretions Jungkook had, the media crucified you no matter what, not attending to his matches was more than enough to enrage his crazy fans. You didn’t have the basic right to be mad whenever he doesn’t do his part.

Jungkook just likes to take and take from you, his jealousy was a problem but his cheating was not.

His sexual needs mattered but your emotional needs were ignored. He acted like the perfect boyfriend in public just to treat you like you don’t exist every time his friends call him on the weekends.

Being in a relationship with Jeon Jungkook was a state of constant confusion. And it all did not make any sense on why he kept insisting in continuing the relationship, he would do anything, get mad, act upset to the public, put at risk an important match, even cry whenever you tried to bring up your need of wanting out, but with his actions Jungkook has made very clear he wasn’t done toying with you, and you had no say on it.

At the end you hit the bottom after four years of this so called ‘relationship’ and once you snapped back out of your submission you did not look back. Took your stuff and while he was busy in another freaky party in Japan, you flew back home taking serious steps into going incognito. Yes, Jungkook called you like a thousand times but nothing that a block can’t resolve. You announced him your break up  in a letter that you send him via text before blocking him, then you made it public via twitter simply putting:

Jungkook and I are not in a relationship anymore, please respect my privacy.

And after that you had been trying to hide from the rest of the world, you had a vague notion of how the rest of world reacted at least in the first days, Jungkook fought with a photographer outside of a bar completely drunk, he made very alarming tweets, it was all over the news, but you did not know the details or bother to dig deeper, his fans almost throwing a celebration party but at the same time blaming you for everything wrong that is happening to Jungkook.

You did not judge yourself on how you ended things with him either, you were kinda running away, but it was the best option in where he didn’t get to manipulate you or black mail you.

At the end of the day you were the only person who can pick yourself up from the ground, and make whatever you want your life to be, and with Jungkook out of the way, who can stop you?

There is only one way up, right?

[visforvengeance]

un jour c'est toi que je partirai

Notes: Howdy! ok so this is a filler chapter. this was originally gonna be chapter 3 buuuut the way I started it wasn't matching how I wanted the chapter to end. so pls forgive me lmao. I wanted to get something out to you guys bc I know it's been a while since the last chapter. I still don't know if i want this series to end before the next season comes out or not but I'm def gonna keep writing itttt

Warnings: cursing? she/her pronouns. mentions of suicide, idk if this should be a tw but description of a panic attack, carmy is a perv in this lowkey. masturbation. when I said philip, i was totes talking about lip gallagher. not too much happens in this. please let me know if I missed anything and thanks for reading <3.

masterpost

“Mikey killed himself.”

He couldn’t do it. Where are you, Carmen? His brother’s funeral was today. You’re supposed to be here. He’s sorry, but he can’t. What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck? He still couldn’t believe it. Fuck, his chest was starting to hurt. He was getting sweaty, his hearing began to fade in and out, and he couldn’t breathe. He can’t fucking breathe. He can’t stop the tears or the sob that tore through him. It echoed throughout his apartment. Fuck this shit. 

He stood in disbelief as he looked upon the one restaurant that could have him shitting bricks. It looked old. And, familiar. And, not his, but absolutely fucking his now. Shit, he couldn’t fucking believe it. This fucking restaurant that haunted his dreams, that he spent his whole life chasing was officially his. He hurried to unlock the door and get inside. He hadn’t told anyone that he was back in Chicago. He wanted to embrace it on his own for a second. It still smelled the same, like Mikey and cigarettes, grease, bleach, and Mikey. 

He looked at the picture frames, news clippings, and awards scattered across the wall. He was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. He hadn’t set foot inside this place in two years, and now his brother is dead and he’s standing in his restaurant. 

He heard the bell ring and turned to see his big sister, “Carmy?” God, did he miss her. He missed them all, he really did. Even insufferable Richie and fucking Fak. And, Y/N. He hadn’t let go of the last conversation they shared. His one shot at true love and he’d gone and fucked it all. Whatever.

He walked over to Natalie, embracing her dearly. “Hi, sis.” He smirked at her as she gasped and swatted his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here? I would’ve gotten you from the airport,” she said with a frown. He shook his head as he waved her off. He smiled up at her, genuinely smiling. “I wanted to surprise you.” “Consider me surprised. So, had a chance to take a look around yet?” He sighed and shook his head. “James told me the store’s not really in good standing?” Natalie let out an exasperated sigh. “Fuck no. I don’t know what the hell Mikey has gotten himself into, Bear.” 

“You, uh, you know where he keeps the records and shit like that?” Natalie shook her head as she took a seat in one of the booths, “you’d have better luck asking Richie.” Ugh. Carmen loathed Richie. But, he tolerated him because he was family and Mikey’s best friend. “Have you seen him around lately?” “Yeah, I told him to meet me here so we could get a headstart on figuring out all of this shit.” Carmen sat in the seat across from Nat, “good. I bet he’ll have some idea.” Natalie nodded slowly as she thinned out her lips. “So,” she says as she clasps her hands together in front of her, “does Y/N know you’re here?” Fuck. She doesn’t know.

Honestly, he didn’t know if he should even tell her. Would she come to see him? Did he have a chance? He hadn’t seen or heard anything about her since Christmas dinner. “No, I haven’t spoken to her since Christmas.” He paused before speaking. “You know she told me she loved me that night?” Natalie had some idea of what was going on between them. Carmen, being the moody little brother he is, kept her out of his business as much as possible. And, Y/N tried to spare her the details for fear of grossing her out. 

“And, what did you say?” “That I loved her too.” For the first time, he was honest. So honest that it scared him. When he thinks back on that night, it almost makes him want to vomit. She felt bad for her brother, this need for Y/N but being unable to do anything about it was eating him up inside and anyone could tell that he wasn’t alright. Pair that with grief and an existential crisis, she didn’t know how he was managing. “How is she?” He knows Mikey’s death couldn’t have been easy for her either. “She’s..coping as best as she can.” He’d love nothing more than to be with her in moments like these, ones that you know you shouldn’t be going through alone. 

“She seeing anyone?” Carmen couldn’t help himself as he asked. Natalie hesitated before answering and that filled Carmen with such dread. “Um, some guy that she went to college with. I think his name is Philip?” He flinched like he was about to be hit. Now, he knows more than he’d like. “Are they like dating? Boyfriend and girlfriend?” Carmen wasn’t trying to pry information out of Natalie for his own personal gain, no way. He was simply inquiring about a friend. 

“Why are you asking?” Natalie was suspicious of the younger boy. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was planning to shoot his shot with Y/N (eventually). It’s about damn time. He shrugged, “Just curious.” She nodded, not believing a word he said. “As far as I know, they’re not too serious but definitely more than friends.” He could only imagine what that meant. Were they already having sex? That was not his business. He needs to get a grip on reality. He nodded and began to stand, just as he was doing so, Richie rushed inside. They hugged and began their bickering immediately after. Natalie just chuckled and walked away. 

Carmen was tired. So fucking tired. It hadn’t even been a full day and he’d endured so much bullshit. The ripping and running and trying to find a decent crew wore him out. He didn’t make it to his bed when he got to his apartment. Instead, he plopped down his couch. After a while, his mind drifted to her. He missed her. Fuck, when didn’t he? He found himself thinking about her constantly. What was she doing today? What did she eat? He was sure it wasn’t nearly as good as what he could make for her. She loved when he cooked for her, so he always did. Never did he allow her to even touch a cooking utensil. He never complained about it either. He loved it just as much. Maybe even more. 

Then, he began thinking about her warmth. He missed it so much that he craved it. It had been too long since he last felt her. Or smelled her scent. He wondered if her lips still felt or tasted the same. Was her skin still as soft as he remembered? Why the fuck is he doing this to himself? It was too late as he felt himself straining against his pants. 

He tried to ignore the lust that was creeping into his head. But, he couldn’t stop himself and he was getting harder the more he thought about her. She made him behave like a fucking pervert. He couldn’t take it anymore. He unbuttoned his pants and slid his hand inside his boxers. Pulling his cock out of his pants, he squeezed the base of it. This was fucking humiliating but it felt too good. He felt bad for thinking about her while doing this. But, he was doing it anyway.  He thought about her face as she was being pleasured, the sounds she’d make. He imagined it was him who made her cum. Just as she was beginning to reach climax, he was cumming all over his hand. He always came the hardest when he thought about her. The deep embarrassment was almost enough to make him never think about her like that, though. Almost. He cursed himself as he wiped his hand on his khakis. It was getting late and he figured he should get ready for bed. She never left his thoughts as he (finally) drifted to dreamland.

[hughiecampbelle]

Dependence Pt. 2 (Roy!Sibling x Roy Family)

((SUCCESSION SPOILERS))

Character/s: Connor, Kendall, Shiv, Roman, Logan mention

Word Count: 1,478

Warning: addiction, drugs, alcohol, death mention

Tag: @locke-writes

A/N: I'm feeling angsty, and that means everyone has to suffer :) Y'all thought I could leave this as it was? Never!!! I live to write angst, lol. This is on a whole new level, though, so please, please, pleass be warned!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Dependence Pt. 1 / Dependence Pt. 3 / Dependence Pt. 4 / Dependence Pt. 5

Being The Youngest Roy Would Include Pt One.

Being The Youngest Roy Would Include Pt. Two

The anger was back. Hot, red, like the blood running from your nose. Tasting of iron. Metallic. It was back and harder to control than ever. You were white-knuckling it for as long as you could remember. No one could understand how taxing it was, how much energy you were putting into keeping it together. Managing. It took everything inside you. Every bit of energy and attention and focus. Sooner or later, you’d lose your grip. You’d fall down again, scrape your knee, chip a tooth. You’d hit rock bottom. It was always waiting for you, the only inevitable in your life. The only constant. That, and your fathers hatred. He was gone now. He was gone and so was his meanness, but your anger lingered. It intensified. Towards him, that bastard, towards yourself, a pathetic little kid still seeking daddy's love. That man wasn’t capable of anything close. After the wedding, the boat, after seeing the body for yourself, you went home and you screamed. You tore your throat apart, to shreds, trying to tire yourself out. Trying to outsmart yourself. You were so close to going to a meeting, but you gave it a second thought. The cameras had followed you home, the paparazzi ripping your every action apart before his body was even cold. They would follow you. It would be the second biggest story in the papers besides his death. The cruelty of the headline, the phonecalls you’d receive, one after the other in this exact order: Kendall, Shiv, Connor, Roman, Gerri, Karl, Frank. Everyone would know you were teetering on an edge, threatening to jump. Everyone would hold it against you one way or another, as if the word addict were in lights across your fucking forehead. You had to keep yourself together alone. It was up to you. It always was. They could only do so much. They could only support you so much. Besides, they were grieving, too. It wasn’t right to go crying to them. Let them be, you figured. You can do this. You’ve done this before, and that’s when he was alive. That’s when he taunted your every decision. 

The looney bin, he’d called it. Rehab, you were tired of correcting. Now you’d never have to. 

Your sinuses burned all the way through, as if they’d been lit of fire. You threw your head back, dropping the rolled bill, inhaling through your nose. You could feel the blood move through your veins, your lungs inflate and deflate with air, you could feel the tingling, numbing of your gums. You let out a laugh, feeling it burst from your throat like a balloon. Growing, growing, until it popped. The music, the speakers so loud you could feel the bass in your bones, jolting them with every note. Surrounded, the drugs the most popular thing here. Old friends, friends of friends, friends of dealers huddled together like they’re trying to keep warm. An old spot. Underground, far from the city, from your life. Are you running away? You sister had asked you this once, when you were little and packing a suitcase. It was a pediatric act, full of stuffed animals and thick, chewy, cardboard books. Yes, I am. The memory ends there, with your gap-tooth response. You had more baby teeth in your mouth than holes. You were so little, so small, and yet you knew what your life would be like. What it would turn out like if you stayed a second longer. You were still running. It’s what you did best, your only natural instinct. You leaned against someone, a nameless figure dressed in black, watching the neon lights, waiting for anger to disappear, dissipate. Another drink would help. 

You’re not sure what day it is, if it’s night or day. How long you’ve been here. A few days, at least. You slept a bit, in between songs. You were up mostly, seeking distractions, seeking a thrill. The club is dark, almost black. The lights cut through bodies, slicing them to pieces. There are no windows, no clocks, nothing to remind you of the outside world, thank god. The music pounds into your skull. If you just keep moving, dancing, kissing strangers, you won’t have to think about it. About them. You won’t have to look at those awful pictures Connor sent to the group chat, your father’s body in a fucking kilt. You won’t have to feel the vibration in your pocket from his calls, his questions, from everyone else. You were missing something important, something you hadn’t been necessary for, something big for the company. Your brothers and sister were off somewhere with that blonde freak. Per their insistence, Gerri had left a few voicemails. Checking in, asking where you were, if you were alright. They didn’t have time to worry about you, not this weekend. You were just fine. Better than fine, you were great. 

Someone held you close, talking a mile a minute. You couldn’t hear a word that they said, nor did you care. Just keep going. Just keep going. Your heart beat fast in your ear as if it were trying to crack through your ribs, fight its way to the surface, break the skin, splatter on the floor. Maybe then, you’d feel better. Had they broken dad’s ribs doing compression's? Stop it. You kissed them hard, tasting bourbon, mixing it with your tequila. It burned, the concoction, making you gag, but you did it anyways. Your hands shook as you cupped their face, pushing away every bad thought you’d ever had. You could get more coke, more pills, whatever they were offering. Someone was always offering something. Their condolences, they said with pity. Getting high of your old man. Funny. It made you want to laugh until you sobbed. 

More calls, this time from Ken, Shiv, Rome. At first angry, misunderstanding the situation. The anger, the annoyance in their voices. The silent treatment, really? Were you mad they’d gone without you? The jet could only wait so long, and you weren’t picking up your phone. Why were you acting like such a baby? It’s not like you’d showed any interest in the company, either. Gerri had a few harsh words for you, calling you flighty and selfish, making everyone distracted while they had a multi-billion dollar deal on the table. Then they started to worry. Were you okay? Where were you? Please call them, please. Overcome with rage, you threw your phone at the concrete floor, smashing the screen to pieces. You couldn’t listen to it anymore. Not like this, not when you’d ruined everything. You hated worrying them, like you were still a baby, needing help with everything. This was your bender. This was your life. If you wanted to ruin it, if you wanted to set it up in flames, you would. The last thing you saw was a silly picture of Connor you’d taken. He was making a stupid face just long enough for you get it in film. His contact name flashed for a second, then your phone died. Big Brother. Big Brother was worried, had gotten word of your sudden disappearance. He was calling to check in. You slumped on the floor, cradling the bits and pieces, regret setting in as you came down from your high. What have you done? 

You lay with your cheek pressed against a sticky table, the booth warm with other bodies. They pushed into you. You’d taken more pills, washed it down with more alcohol. Things were slowing down now. The world had gone from so fast, so full, so euphoric, to slow motion. Your breathing was slow, your thoughts even more so. Call someone. Who? There were so many people to choose from. The thump of the music jolted the glasses on the table, threatening to crack them to bits. Too many to count. Too many pills. You knew that now. You could feel it. How weak your pulse had become, how shallow your breathing, how cold you’d become all of a sudden. You’d gotten the guy next to you to give you his phone. A phone call, that’s what you were doing. Yes. You dialed the only number you could remember. It went straight to voicemail. Your words came out slurred despite the panic you suddenly felt. You could barely keep your eyes open, they were so heavy, it was so much work. Your breathing ragged, every inhale taking everything out of you. It was so hard to remember anything. You tried another number. Someone picked up, someone scared, someone frantic, talking to others near them, far from you. Calling names you recognized, begging, pleading with you. You didn’t know who though. The words came out before you could stop yourself, slowly, painfully so. Choking them up, nauseous all of a sudden, your whole body shaking. Daddy, I messed up. I messed up and I’m scared. I took too much. I took too much, I did it again. . .

[hrefna-the-raven]

Heart of Steel

Fallout masterlist - main masterlist

Chapter 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

Song for this chapter:

Summary: Arthur finally reveals how he get his scar but despite you growing closer, it seems the Brotherhood is pulling you apart again

Warnings: cursing, feelings, alcohol, drunk Maxson

Notes: yes we're delving into Maxson's deathclaw incident ;) and yeah he's going through all the emotions^^

Chapter 8 - Why do fools fall in love?

You woke up to find Maxson's piercing blue eyes locked onto yours, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. The morning sunlight streamed through the cracked window, casting a golden glow on his rugged features.

"Good morning", his voice was husky as he whispered.

You mumbled a good morning back, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and leaned closer to him as you pressed your lips against the rough texture of his scar, leaving a trail of gentle kisses along its path. Maxson's breath caught, his voice trembling as he began to speak.

"I got it seven years ago, scavenging through some ruins with a Scribe when a deathclaw surprised us."

Your curiosity piqued, you propped yourself up on your elbow, your hand moving to his, squeezing it reassuringly.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to", you spoke softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Arthur hesitated for a moment, his eyes clouded with memories and he felt tears forming. His voice dropped to a whisper, filled with both tension and vulnerability.

"Perhaps it's time I do share, I never told anyone the whole story", he began, "we were searching for an artifact in the ruins of that old town, it was supposed to be a safe area, aside from a few molerats and radroaches. Everything was going smoothly, we found the artifact when suddenly, a deathclaw stood within the same room of the collapsed house. I can't even recall how it got there, but I'll never forget how the creature mercilessly tore the scribe's body apart with its razor-sharp claws. Blood splattered everywhere - the walls, my clothes, my face - I could taste it on my lips."

He couldn't hold the tears back any longer, for seven years he tried to forget the details of the attack and for those same seven years, he would awaken every night, drenched in sweat with the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, haunted by the echoing roar of the creature. You held your breath, the words slowly sinking in as you realised how he must have felt.

"I sprinted out of the house, barely managing to find refuge within the remains of a dilapidated, rusty APC. I retreated as far back as possible, but the deathclaw was relentless. It thrust its arm inside, wildly thrashing around until one of its razor-sharp claws tore through the skin on my cheek. There was so much blood, I thought I'd die. My instincts took over, refusing to make it easy for the creature to get me, so I fought with everything I had. I shot all my ammo on that thing and just when I thought it was going to end me, a vertibird swooped in, distracting the creature long enough for me to ram my combat knife into its eye and it finally drop dead on the floor. I...I can't remember much after that...", his voice broke off.

Maxson's trembling hand reached out to cup your cheek, his eyes filled with tears and shame. 

"I'm sorry Arthur", you whispered, afraid to shatter the fragile moment if you spoke too loud, "during my times, an incident like this would have resulted in your removal from active duty and provided you with the necessary medical care to recover. Hell, you wouldn't have even been out there; you were just a child."

"But this is neither your time and nor your world", he muttered, wiping away the tears that stained his face, "it got me a promotion and finally gained the recognition of my brothers", a bitter laugh escaped his lips.

While this battle may have granted him the admiration of his brothers, but the cruel reality remained that it had fractured something deep within him, leaving indelible scars. 

"You were but a child."

"With the Maxson name and big shoes to fill."

"But a child nonetheless", you murmured, pulling him closer and embracing him tightly.

Arthur sobbed, burying his face in the side of your neck. After all these years he finally found someone to share the burden of this tragic moment. You didn't care about strength, about glory or his lineage, you only cared about him. Gently, you lifted his chin, making him meet your gaze, and tenderly kissed away the tears streaming down his cheeks.

"You've endured so much, it's okay, you're not alone", your eyes locked onto his and you saw something you didn't recognise before.

It was a vulnerability he had long kept hidden which now began to surface around you, revealing a truth he had never shown before. It made you wonder what would happen once you returned to the Prydwen. You've gotten a glimpse at what was buried beneath the soldier but he was still the leader of the Brotherhood of Steel, whatever he showed you would remain well hidden around them. Nervousness churned in your stomach as you pondered what awaited you upon stepping foot on the ship again. The anxious whispers in your head prevented you from asking, too afraid of the answer that might pass his lips.

Of course, upon your arrival there later that morning, a vertibird was already waiting for the two of you at the Cambridge police station. Arthur must have contacted them while you were leaving a message for MacCready. Of course he would have, you scolded yourself for forgetting that, despite all that happened between the two of you, he was still THE Elder Maxson. The flight was short and, for once, none of the raiders or mutants along the way tried to shoot at the aircraft. Maxson was sitting next to you, seemingly lost in thoughts. You felt the burning gaze of the armoured Knight standing in front of you as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Are they suspecting that you fucked their leader? Had Arthur even informed them of his decision to accompany you? Would he even need to? The fading sound of the rotors brought you back to reality, realising that you'd landed at the airport. Maxson guided you towards a tunnel near the helipad, leading you to a spot where a portion of the wall had crumbled away. With a gasp, you took in the sight of numerous soldiers gathered in the courtyard, eagerly awaiting the arrival of their leader.

"Brothers and sisters of the Brotherhood", he declared, taking a step forward, "we finally uncovered how the Institute uses their technology to travel undetected in the Commonwealth, all thanks to this Knight's commendable perseverance."

He held your arm up, allowing the soldiers to cheer for a brief moment. You tried your best to play along but it was hard to not let the confusion take over your expression.

"This Knight will be given the task of acquiring the necessary technology to infiltrate the Institute and with her dedication and aid, we will finally crush the Institute and their abominations and free the Commonwealth of their grasp! Ad Victoriam!"

He saluted, and everyone followed suit, pounding their fists against their chests while shouting the Brotherhood's battle cry before resuming their duties. Maxson's hand patted your shoulder, a triumphant smile adorning his lips, before he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there. Your mind was blank, unable to connect the man that cried in your arms to the one who delivered that speech. Had it all been an act? And if yes, which one? You rushed through the tunnel, up the stairs, eyes fixed on your steps as you made your way back to the ship. You didn't even notice brushing past Paladin Danse who had planned on congratulating you. No, you only wanted to lock yourself up in your quarters and be alone...

The hour was late and Arthur was pacing up and down his private quarters, his gaze shifting to the door every few steps. He wouldn't want to admit it but he waited for a knock, your knock. He'd spent the last nights with you, secretly hoping that you'd continue visiting him upon your return, granting him peaceful sleep and the reassuring love he grew so fond of. But no matter how long he waited, you wouldn't come to knock on his door, leaving him waiting and wanting until the first rays of sunlight marked the arrival of another day.

Meanwhile, you lay on your bed, burying your face in the pillow as frustration welled up inside you. The answer you longed for felt so close and yet eluded you. Every time you two were together, he would expose another layer of his soul, but his demeanor would change once you crossed the threshold of the airport, causing doubts to seep into your heart. You remembered the awkward conversation you had with Danse about the Brotherhood neither encouraging nor forbidding relationships. Perhaps whatever connection existed between the two of you was destined to exist outside the confines of the Brotherhood. Sharp persistent knocks on your door ripped you out of the slumber you didn't remember succumbing to. Before you could even get out of bed, the door swung open and Cade entered the room.

"Rise and shine, Knight! I must assess your condition and then you'll be scheduled for training alongside Paladin Danse", he spoke with authority, "the Elder has entrusted you with a vital mission, and it's imperative that you undergo proper preparations before venturing into the Glowing Sea."

The doctor just remained in the door frame, impatiently waiting as you dragged yourself out of bed and got into your uniform.

The rest of the day went as well as it started. Cade's check-up and the countless questions of which you deemed most too personal in regards to the mission at hand. While your attention should have been focused on the examination and the grueling training regimen imposed by Danse, your thoughts were remained on Maxson. In previous days, he would often be seen wandering about, observing, conversing, and issuing commands, whether aboard the ship or at the airfield. However, you had not caught sight of him today or in the days that followed. Although you didn't get a chance to worry about it any further on your final day of training because as soon as you returned to the Prydwen, Danse essentially whisked you away for one of his little get-togethers with a few others.

"You'll be heading into the danger zone soon, you deserve a little relaxation", he cheered, refilling up your glass.

"So that undercover mission with the big boss", Brandis winked, "how did it go?"

"Is that what he calls it?", you chuckled, "it was no undercover mission, I simply visited some friends who had information on the Institute and my son."

"Ah and the Elder just casually tags along?", Brandis raised a brow in doubt, "I find it hard to believe."

"Yeah it does sound suspicious, he rarely even goes down to the airport base", Teagan mumbled, "I already thought he'd grown roots within this ship."

The quartermaster had decided to join your little merry group about an hour ago, never denying a good excuse for some booze and gossip. You emptied your glass and rose to turn up the volume on the radio.

"How about less questioning and more dancing?", you suggested, swaying to the music.

One of the Neriah's younger scribes, who had joined the Brotherhood around the same you, got up, eagerly accepting your invitation as both of you danced together. The rhythm of the music swept you away, and for a brief moment, the weight of your worries around the Elder seemed to fade away. However, it didn't take long for a pang of sadness to hit you in the chest. The scribe was clearly a better dancer than Maxson but it felt wrong and you realised how much you actually missed the Elder. You stopped in your tracks, excusing yourself, running off through corridor, leaving everyone behind with a confused expression on their faces.

Meanwhile, in the solitude of his quarters, Maxson sat on his worn-out couch, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His eyes were closed as his mind kept replaying the image of you laughing and dancing with another. He had wandered the corridors of the Prydwen, hoping to clear his mind until he stumbled upon your little celebration. His curiosity got the better of him as he observed you conversing and sharing laughter, but he swiftly turned away the moment you began to dance with that scribe, not able to bear the sight. A mix of pain, love and guilt washed over him. Despite his resolve to uphold a more or less strict hierarchy within the Brotherhood, the connection with you had grown deeper during your little trip to Goodneighbor and the realisation of his own feelings conflicting with his duty became unbearably difficult. He emptied one glass after another, his hand trembling slightly as the slow buzz of alcohol finally began to numb his senses, lulling him into a deceptive state of calm. Confessions of love and regret filled his mind, yet the words remained unspoken, even within the solitary confines of his quarters. The weight of it all seemed to press heavily upon his shoulders, crushing him, as he wondered if he had lost his chance for happiness. A sudden knock startled him. He tried to jump up to rush towards the door, underestimating the power of the copious amounts of whiskey he had gulped down in the short time, causing him to trip and land flat on his face.

You heard a loud thud, followed by a groan and weird laughter from the other side of the door. Worried but hesitant you opened the door and stepped into the room. You scrunched your nose at the sudden smell of alcohol and a shocked gasp escaped you as your eyes landed on Maxson, sprawled out on the floor. Rushing to his side, you carefully turned him over, taken aback by how miserable he looked. The person before you bore no resemblance to the one who shared your bed or delivered that impassioned speech just a few days ago. As his eyes found yours, you witnessed the forlornness within them. His hand clumsily reached up, lightly poking and pinching your cheek, his eyes widened in shock.

"It's you", he slurred, struggling to get on his knees.

"Arthur what the fuck happened?", you asked, torn between shock, anger and concern.

"Why are you here?", he jabbed a finger at your chest with such force that it almost hurt you, "don't you...you...wanna dance with 'im?"

Confusion washed over your face at his question. Did he see you dancing? That would mean he was there...seeking you out? And, more importantly, it raised another question.

"Are you...jealous?", a smile crept onto your lips.

After days of not seeing him, you worried that he had distanced himself from you. However, it slowly dawned on you that his absence might have been due to his struggle to balance his emotional life with his responsibilities to the Brotherhood, given how deeply attached he was to them. He blew raspberries and playfully slapped your shoulder, nearly losing his balance and falling back.

"N-n-never", he hiccuped, the colour draining from his face, "I-I think I need to lie down."

You chuckled as you helped him to his feet, draping his arm over your shoulder for support as he stumbled towards the bed. He slumped down on the soft mattress, letting out a sigh of relief as you carefully placed his legs on the bed. While you had witnessed moments of vulnerability from him before, where he let his emotions spill out after years of holding them back, seeing him like this stirred something new within you. It was as if you were witnessing the truest version of the person who usually hid behind a stoic facade. His drunken mind seemed to be speaking sober thoughts, unfiltered and unrestrained, revealing his true essence.

"Try to get some rest", you said, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

"Nooooooooo", he slurred, his fingers gripping your wrist as he pulled you closer to him, "stay...I miiissed you yesterday and...before...and....staaaay."

You shifted, lying down beside him, gently tracing your fingers across his face as you observed him relax, his eyelids slowly becoming heavier. He murmured a few unintelligible words before finally drifting into sleep. You listened to the sound of his snoring for a brief moment before quietly rising, planting a final peck on his cheek. Tomorrow morning, you would inform the doctor to check on him, regardless of Cade's opinion or the potential resentment from the Elder, who would undoubtedly reappear as soon as Arthur left his quarters. But for now, all that mattered was the small smile that adorned your lips, enveloping yourself in the joy that came from knowing he loved you. It'd be hard if all would vanish again for the sake of duty but now you'd revel in it and succumb to sleep peacefully and content. Any doubts you had earlier were now replaced with absolute certainty: you were in love with each other and, one way or another, you'd both find out to balance it with everything life threw at you.

Chapter 9 - The morning-after-date

Feel free to reblog if you enjoyed the story :)

[captain-mj]

I know you just posted it like 3 hours ago, but I loved your knight König and monster Horangi work! Could you write more for it pls? 👉👈

For you anon, I'll do it <3 Previous part

König did visit Horangi a few days afterwards. He brought sugar buns this time since he was pretty sure Horangi hadn't eaten very much besides what he could forage or hunt. Sugar buns were always a fun snack.

It had taken a while for him to make them, but he did. He cooked the bread and dusted sugar over all of it. Then he filled it with creamed butter and sugar. Just a layer inside so it wasn't too sweet.

He also wore something a bit nicer this time instead of his armor. His hood stayed on though.

It took him a while to get all the way up the mountain again, but like before, there were no animals that could cause him any problems.

Horangi appeared almost immediately, but he was so quiet, it still startled König. He looked at the basket König was holding.

"Sugar buns!" König said, trying to sound excited. He uncovered it and watched Horangi light up. "For you."

Horangi grabbed one of them. They had gotten slightly cold from the journey but they were still soft. He watched, fascinated as he tore them apart and started to eat it. König had made them himself so he had put some creamed sugar in the inside and Horangi noticed. He started to eat happily, giving König a good glimpse at his teeth.

They were large and cat like. No. Tiger like. That was better. Stripes across his cheeks as well. They were gorgeous. Horangi's eyes caught him and his tongue flicked out to get the rest of the sugar off his lips.

König immediately handed him another one and sat down on a nearby rock to tuck into one of the rolls himself. Horangi watched into him quietly before sitting next to him.

They almost touched. It absorbed most of König's thoughts, the fact that they were so close he could feel the warmth off of him. Horangi felt warmer than any normal human he knew.

Slowly, very slowly, König leaned in just a little and almost on cue, a wind washed through the area that made him shiver.

"Cold, König?" Horangi looked up at him.

"Yes." König said immediately, half hoping Horangi would lean in more.

Instead, Horangi slipped the robe he was wearing off and put them around König. He luckily wore pants underneath but his chest was bare. König felt his mouth go dry. Horangi really did look gorgeous. His body was very toned and with his scars and...

...

"You have a tail?"

"Yes." It twitched as Horangi spoke. "They're like my ears. Just appeared when I was cursed."

König watched the tip twitch a little, almost as if he was irritated. "I see. It's cute."

Horangi shoved a sugar bun into his face immediately to avoid having to talk to him. His face turned slightly red, eyes glancing away from him.

König smiled a little, blushing under his mask. He only lifted his hood slightly to eat before putting it back down.

"Why are you covering your face? You can't look worse than me."

''Oh I don't... take it off. Ever."

"Why? Scarred? Hideous?" Horangi passed no judgement, just seemed curious.

"Something like that..." König did find himself very gross. Broken nose, freckles, red spiky hair he could never get to sit down. It always stuck up in every direction and even though it was longer now, it still stuck up everywhere.

Horangi immediately leaned in. "Let me see."

König stared into his eyes. The pupils had moved to filled his iris until only the slightest amount of color showed, like a cat about to pounce.

"I don't think that's a good idea... I am..." He glanced down.

Horangi hummed. "You came to visit me. Brought me food. Are we friends then?"

"I would like to think so."

"Then can I please see you?" Horangi tilted his head down so he was back in König's line of sight.

König found his hands lifting slowly to his hood. He carefully took his hood off so Horangi could see him.

"Ah."

König's heart sank. "Oh?" He glanced up nervously and saw Horangi staring at him. There was something in his eyes. A hungry look that swept over his features with fervor.

"You're not hideous at all. Small scar, but I think it makes you look distinguished." Horangi grabbed König's chin firmly and then gently traced the scar. König tried to squirm away but Horangi's grip was too strong.

"Ah, bitte, let go." König felt so flustered and he wasn't used to such examination.

"What does bitte mean?"

König blushed harder and stilled after a moment, realizing escape was impossible at this moment. "Means please." He didn't have his weapon or his gear and even if he did, he wasn't sure if he had it in him to force Horangi to let him go.

Horangi nodded and tilted König's face side to side so he could look at him closer. He then let go. "Pretty boy. I like the way you look. Shouldn't hide under the hood all the time.",

König had butterflies in his stomach. He was bright red, so red in fact that his freckles disappeared mostly. "I... Um..."

"Are you okay? You look shy." Horangi leaned in, mostly naked body all for König to see. He yanked away and looked off, blushing hard.

König looked down at the ground and blushed more. "I.... I am fine."

They sat together a while longer and watched clouds. König found himself glancing at Horangi before accidentally making eye contact and immediately he kept staring at the clouds.

"Do you see shapes in them?"

"Yes. That one looks like a boat." König pointed it out for him. Horangi smiled and moved so he was laying down on the rock they were on. He tugged König down so he was laying down to. He gave him his robe back, claiming he had warmed up.

Horangi pointed at one. "That one looks like a crown."

König smiled softly and stayed for a while. He felt his eyes start to get heavy and reluctantly he got up. "I think I need to head back."

Horangi nodded and stretched. "Do you like fish?"

"I do...."

"I'll catch some for you when you come back."

"I'll bring you more food too." König promised.

Horangi kissed König's hand and handed him back his hood. He slipped it on so Horangi wouldn't see him get flustered from the indirect kiss.

[sharonisthebettercarter]

Slipknot Vermillion Butchlander.

FUCK. YES.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHH~<3<3<3 buckle in buckle in y'all cause this about to be a DOOZY<3!!

songs if ya hadn't heard them~<3 (def give them a listen, pt.2 is like an acoustic version, both lovely~<3, same general themes tho different vibes which-- ;))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

anywho~<3

FIRST OF ALL. YES. absolutable~<3

you beautiful beautiful little monster, this is PERFECT. okay, okay, yes, i'm getting too excited lmao. BUTT--

"I won't let this build up inside a me--"

this is an absolutely perfect opportunity for a deep dive into billy's psyche, psychosis, and an incredible exploration of psychological horror~<3

and it starts~?

with a *married* butchlander<3<3<3 OOH~<3!! (altho fair to use for for other ships with butcher, just doesn't get to the same level of psychological turmoil from the whole *husband is the villain* thing--;)))))))))) ANYWHO<3

basically butcher and homie are in a loving, *healthy* relationship. john is a good husband. maybe they even have ryan<3 or a little baby in billy's belly on the way<3<3<3 (or both~! lmao, always gotta throw that in-- ;))))))))))) a/b/o always an option, trans/intersex billy too, the world is the oyster~<3 any explanation like homie can just knock dudes up i guess lmfao--maybe that was the start-- :O ;)))))))) anyway, everything's perfect--except...

billy's having a bit of psychological... trouble. in which for some reason, his brain seems to be fabricating an entire reality with a loving and perfect wife, becca/becky--where his husband is the villain who tore them apart... and the situation in turn... starts to drive him and john apart...

and at first, of course, they'd be managing, between medications, care, brain scans, billy having nightmares and dreams, john trying to help, fighting and screaming, moments homie would have to hold billy down because he's having a meltdown, john having all the proof to keep billy from going nuclear/make it clear that he's... unwell, and that he's there for billy. maybe even a dna test to show that ryan is *theirs* and no one else's if a baby still in billy ain't enough--

but trust is wavering.

OOH, exploration into billy falling down that rabbit hole and believing it so much, he makes an effort to investigate and run away while homie always comes to get him/find him, drag him back home--and always *always*, refuse to hurt him even while billy is at his worst trying to force his hand, maybe even asking john to kill him so this doesn't continue--and again, his husband refusing.

now here's the kicker<3<3<3

this story could be done in two main ways (with expansive variations~<3, 3 if you count the middle road<3<3<3)

OOH! but before i dive into that, i should also mention that billy potentially being the *villain* in his own mind--in which he kidnaps and tortures and holds captive this *perfect* woman while john is none the wiser--ooooooohhhhhh... we'll come back to that one~<3 ;)

back on *john* being the villain in billy's mind.

"she isn't real. I can't make her real--"

and there in lies the *question*...

whether or not billy *is* experiencing psychosis and john is *actually* the villain, is it's own exploration~<3<3<3. depending on which version (regular or pt. 2), you channel the vibes of lmao

pt. 2 def feels like it could be more of a tragic rendition of this idea, where billy really *is* experiencing psychosis and john *is* a loving husband who *is* trying to help and care for billy<3

but the original...? mmm. let's just say there could be various... hints of a completely manipulated world around them--signs of a world *rewritten* or people silenced ,sides to john that he never *ever* shows to billy. certain... *things* that would certainly *imply* he is the *monster* billy's mind has made him--maybe it's billy's real memories trying to spill through whatever homelander did to him-- ;))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

mmmmmhmmmm~<3<3<3

BUTT, my personal fave?

*open. ended*

in which... there are... hints that might suggest one is true, and then the other, or even elements of both, but there's never truly an answer given... OOOH<3 FUCK YES. OOF, just the IDEA def gets me lol

i do feel the songs lean towards the 'she isn't real' factor (for obvious reasons lol) but for a fic~? ;))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

for variation in that exploration (and maybe an easy way to dig into the open ended vibes, but with a twisty lean~<3), maybe *most* of the 'hints' implicate one way with extremely *vague* BLINK AND YOU MISS IT hints for the *other* end, and one very *strong* hint/scene that ties together all the *vague* hints and makes them... impossible to ignore~<3

gawd i love psychological horror<3<3<3 lmao can you tell?

NOW. what about *billy* being the villain~<3?

OOOOHHHHHHH!!! now *that* one has some *real* hard potential for gut wrenching love from john<3<3<3 (i should also mention, *def* an option for psychosis with *john* there and OOF gotta stop giving myself expansions into this but it's just so FUCKING GOOD, LISTEN TO THE SONGS DAMMIT AND FEEL INSPIRED--)

similar enough deal, except with billy believing he's committed these horrible crimes to an innocent woman, a wonder of it might have been real or not and john trying to be by his side and settle his mind--and of course, the potential for a seriously covered up horrific crime because john's not about to lose his husband *for any reason*<3<3<3

maybe billy believes he committed the crime when it was really john and they covered it up together but billy--

this of course works just as lovely for the *canon compliant* show option with *john* feeling the full brunt of his psychosis--and billy trying to cover it up... *OR*... did it really happen at all? is billy right, is ryan really *their* son and there was no becky/becca?

;)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

oh i know i am absolutely TERRIBLE I KNOW-- but listen. LISTEEEENNNN... I FUCKING LOVE PSYCHOLOGICAL HORROR, OKAY!?!?!

anywho~<3

there's also an element of serious *danger* involved with homie being the one to experience psychosis (powers and all, def one with billy too but not nearly as savage--unless a course ya give him powers too<3), especially if homie *convinces* himself that he *is* this *monster*, and therefore *must* act as this monster.

ooh, def some dives into comics themes but it go a little somethin'... like this:

"i think, therefore i am" or cogito, ergo sum (heeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyy that's a title if i ever done seen one for this one lmfao only if 'vermillion' isn't used i guess, alternatively 'cinnabar'<3)

and

"i can, therefore i must"

but the comics actually have a perfect set up for this too--OOH! it kinda goes back to that 'detective husbands' prompt lmao (expect a little different obviously) where instead of being a 'convinced i'm right when i'm wrong' dickwad billy or even *homie knows he didn't do it* (he would have to be on that edge of sanity/not know for sure for this one to work<3) we have a billy who actually legit *explores* and *investigates* what happened to becky because he *sees* that things don't add up *before* he starts actively making it worse. instead doing his own *solo* detective work~<3

maybe even stalking, meeting, getting to know homelander (*john*) personally. possibly even with the motive of finding his weakness, etc. and then tripping and landing on his dick and falling in love along the way~<3<3<3

lmao could be that billy even *abandons* the boys to get to the bottom of what really happened-- but also cause he ends up knocked up after realizing homie *was not* in fact the culprit<3<3<3

do feel the homie versions (show or comics) would deal less with the 'vermillion' vibes or i guess less chance for *open ended* horror themes, and more of a cut clean *he did it/he didn't do it* and is losing his mind sorta feel. in a sense, *becky* def *wouldn't* be real for comics homie because they never actually interacted (while the show version could be actively trying to remember her/struggling with who he *used* to be--OOH!! jason blood is def a place to look for inspo there~<3), so the tie in could be *exquisite* for sure, but it def is a slightly different feel lol

honestly might consider writing the comics/vermillion themed one (at some point, i have promised myself to other shit), it would explore billy instead of using homie as an excuse to be his worst self, homie becoming billy's excuse to hold onto what becky actually wanted for him/turn homie good (which is cute and sad in it's own way but could be SO fucking precious<3) and that would be some GOOD shit<3<3<3

FUCK! this is probably gonna build up inside a me i--

[1800-rogers]

Missing Years (Chris Evans x F!Reader)

summary: chris's childhood best friend falls into a life of drugs

wc: 1.7k

inspired by oh noel by idkhow and i'm ok by call my karizma

content: mentions of drug use, mentions of self-harm, suicide, mentions of abuse, mentions of murder, funeral

title courtesy of one of my amazing friends who i let read this beforehand. ily <3

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

He remembers it like it was yesterday. He was just a little boy, roughly twelve and a half when he first saw you. It was December 17, 1993 and you were spending that year’s Christmas with your grandparents, on your mother’s side. You never got to see them as much as you hoped as your father’s parents were a closer drive, but you had begged your parents to take you this year and they obliged. Your little eleven-year-old heart was filled with joy. It truly felt like a Christmas miracle. 

Your grandparents lived just up the block from Chris’ family, but not too far that it was out of sight from his own home. He and his mother had just gotten home from a quick trip to the grocery store when he saw your family’s 1986 Honda Civic pull up in the driveway. His curiosity had gotten to him and he couldn’t look away, especially when you got out of the back seat with the biggest smile on your face. He was sure it was love at first sight.

“Why don’t you go say hi?” His mother piped in, snapping Chris out of his trance. “She looks new, I doubt she knows any kids her age in the neighbourhood. Why don’t you go be the first?”

Immediately, he marched his way over to your grandparent’s house and knocked on the door, as you and your parents already made it inside. You opened the door, and you looked even prettier than you did from down the street. You were wearing a red, velvet dress with poofy sleeves and white lace around the waist, with matching white tights beneath. With a look of confusion on your face and before you could say anything, the little boy spoke, “Hi, I’m Chris!” He said smiling, his two front teeth missing. “I live just down the street and I’ve never seen you here before. I, well my mom, figured I should come and say hi. So I did! Wanna come over and play?” You just giggled softly and turned around to walk over to the dining room table where your family was chatting. You asked your parents, and they approved. It was the nineties, what was the worst that could happen?

For the next two weeks, you ran through the snow in the field of his school, and oh how felt like your pure little heart was in love. At the start of the second week, Chris had brought a mistletoe to the field and that was where you had your first kiss. The snow was gently falling, and it felt like heaven. You were the first person who really gave him a shot, and the first person he considered to be his friend.

Eventually, your family moved to Boston after the passing of your dad’s parents, meaning you got to see Chris more often. He was only a 30-minute drive from your place.

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

After graduating from high school, you guys barely talked to each other. Chris went to NYU to pursue acting and you stayed in Boston with your parents. The long-distance made things difficult for you and you two just got distant from each other. He still sent you Christmas cards every year, but you never returned the favour. The reason was that things were getting difficult for you at home. Your parent’s marriage was falling apart, and sure, even though you were 18, it was still hard being in the middle of it. Your father became abusive and blamed it on you. You chose not to go to college, and he would constantly harass you for it. Your mother would always initiate an argument with him about this as it was your choice not to go and she supported your decision. But he would just smack her before you’d scurry off to your room. You were slowly falling apart

In 2003, your best friend hung herself in her apartment, and it absolutely tore you apart. You dove into a life of drugs.  Upon hearing this news from one of his friends, Chris chose to move back to Boston to find you and comfort you. By this time, communication between the two of you had been cut off. Letters stopped being sent, and phone calls stopped being received. He went to your home, but living there was just your father. Your mother had finally chosen to divorce him and he wouldn’t share your new address. You weren’t living with your mother anymore, as you moved in with some friends. They were just like you were. Broken. The house wasn’t the nicest of places and was basically a crack house, but you loved these people, and they shared the same sentiment. 

On occasion Chris would see you on the streets, and say hi, but you’d just say that you were busy and quickly rush off. One of these days, he forced you to stay.  You just didn’t look like yourself. He was worried about you. You were pale and petrified. You were snorting meth, and smoking crack on the daily and had been through rehab twice, graciously funded by your mother, who too was worried sick about you. She was begging for you to move back in with her, but you refused, and she didn’t force you to do so. That day when Chris made you talk, you broke down and he took you back to his car, where you broke down and told him everything.

He helped you get back on your feet,  and you were so grateful, but you were still depressed, even if you didn’t let it show. You had your own place, and having the comfort of living alone felt good.

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

One Sunday night, you were surprised when you went over to his place to find him with a blade about to push deep into his wrists. You had looked through the window and saw him crying on the floor next to his dining room table. Worried sick, you grabbed the spare key from the flower pot on his porch and unlocked his front door. Immediately, you took that blade away from him and tossed it to the ground. He never told you what was wrong, but you just sat there holding him, and he swears you gave him life again. 

On December 25th, 2008, at 5:47 pm, your mother would be found dead in her living room. It was being broadcast on the news, as it was a murder and your father was the prime suspect. For the next many hours, you cried to Chris. It was unknown why he had waited this long, but that took over your thoughts. Around 12:31 in the morning, you snuck out of bed and went into Chris’ office to grab a razor blade and slit your wrist. You went to the bathroom and broke down once again as you tried to stop the bleeding. You didn’t know if you were happy or not that Chris didn’t hear you. He never found out about this.

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

In 2010, the two of you drifted apart again. Chris isn’t one hundred percent on the reason, but he blames it on himself and the filming of Captain America. He wasn’t even sure what happened to you until 2011. He was in Sudbury spending the holidays with his family when the news started talking about a death that had just occurred.  He asked his mom to turn it up and then proceeded to hush everyone in the room.

“Police dispatch has just received a call from a distressed motel owner, claiming that they found a woman, who he presumed to be in her late 20s, dead in one of his rooms. Emergency services are on their way as we speak. Here’s Kelly Perez, who’s currently on the scene.” Kelly’s voice was drowned out by the sound of sirens ripping by the Evans household. He was so worried that it was you. When he checked his phone, he saw a missed call from you but before he could call back to see if you were okay, his brother Scott, nudged him to look back at the TV. Kelly was still speaking as a picture of you was placed on the screen. Chris had been to this motel before. It was cheap and dirty. Cockroaches were everywhere, and the owner was a creep. You’d stayed here with your friends before and you had told him about how he was flirting with you in such an uncomfortable way. He was talking about your tits and asses and how he would love to take you all at once. He couldn’t quite understand why you’d chosen to back.

“The cause of death was an overdose and police are suspecting it to have been a suicide. The victim was 29-year-old y/n  l/n. Within the next few days, police will be contacting her close ones.” That was one of, if not the hardest night of Chris’ life. He constantly wonders if you’d still be here if he had picked up your call.  He really wishes that he could’ve told you how much he loved you and that what you had as kids wasn’t just a fling. He had loved you from the start and you giving him a shot to be your friend meant a lot to him. He just wishes you could’ve known. You were probably the last person he was going to give his whole heart to.

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

Your funeral was held a couple of weeks later in early January and burial the next day. He watched them lower your casket, as the pastor said you’d hurt no more. It was so tough for him. You’d been through so much and he wasn’t there for you enough. You fought most of your battles either alone or with people who were battling the same problems as you. His biggest regret was not picking up that phone. Once they had fully buried your casket, his mother asked if he was alright, and he told her, “I haven’t smiled very much today, but I’m okay. I’m okay. All these tears are diamonds on my face, and I’m okay. I’m okay.” His mother turned away and has everyone left, he just stood there, staring at your grave.

Every year, on the anniversary of when you met, he’d visit your grave and would always place a poppy. Not only to commemorate your life, but it was also red, just like your dress when you met for the first time.

[skullsnbruises]

Made a lil self indulgent thing teehee hope everyone enjoys :3

[Ao3 Link]

Taglist: @poprockpanda @brick-a-doodle-do @local-squishmallow @dingbatnix @da3dm

Prove Me Wrong

(1690 words) [suicidal ideation, BPD jack]

It wasn’t unusual Jack would find himself in a bundle of rage and self-loathing, cursing himself out for a simple mistake that snowballed into the final stake in a crumbling relationship. He was curled beside his bed, gripping his knees, phone laying beside his head as it blew up with notifications.

As it kept lighting up, he couldn’t get the texts out of his head. Everything that led up to this moment.

He was fighting with Niki. Or more so, she was begging him to talk to her, and he was melting down in his own misery, exploding with overwhelming emotion. He was terrified of losing her, so he was pushing her away to lessen the hurt. It’d happened before, he’d get too attached and be too clingy, and then everyone he cared about would abandon him for being too much.

It was such a stupid reason to have such a horrible episode over, all he’d done was slip up and say the wrong thing. Niki was so accepting and apologetic, trying to get him to open up, but it tore him apart to be wrong. He wasn’t meant to be wrong.

The exact details were messy, all Jack knew was he made a terrible mistake, and Niki hated him. She was gone forever.

The urge to check his phone, just in case, overpowered all instincts to ignore Niki forevermore.

Jack shook sobbing as he picked the phone up, anxiously typing in the password. Their messages popped up, and his heart ached at the sight of dozens of gray text bubbles showing, concerned outpourings of affection. It sickened Jack, nobody was meant to care about him. Niki was only lying to him, she didn’t love him. Not after everything he’s done, not after countless slip ups. She just couldn’t.

Jack was completely unlovable. That had always been true from day one. He knew it just as well as everyone else.

The last message, the only one Jack cared to read, said “That’s it, I’m coming over.”

Panic insued, boiling inside his steaming blood, striking straight into his already wet eyes. Entirely distressed, he started spamming to her, begging her to just leave him like he knew she wanted to. Sobbing to her to let him die alone. Pleading with her to tell him the truth, that he was a selfish monster incapable of being a good person or worthy.

She was on her way though, which meant she’d be here soon, and Jack would end up hurting her, like he always did.

Jack dropped his phone, and it probably broke from the impact, but he didn’t care. His limbs sprawled out around him on the cold wooden floor. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to focus on the bumps and scratches that littered the surface, instead of the dead feeling of depression stifled in his chest. He choked from the lack of proper oxygen getting into his body from the heavy panting, and he forfeit his body to whatever the world wanted to do to it.

Jack wished he was dead. Then he couldn’t ruin anything else. Everyone would be happy finally. Without him, there’d be no more hurt, no strong uncontrollable emotions, no lashing out, no Jack burdening every person he’d ever met. It would be a perfect world, if only he wasn’t in it.

He dissociated as the time passed, boiling in hatred as snot and tears stained his face wet, red, and salty.

There was a knock at the door, and Jack screamed in panic, instantly scrambling to his feet. His legs felt wobbly underneath him as Jack tried to steady, making his way over to the bedroom door. At least Niki let him have a chance to let her in. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to let her in.

Jack opened the door anyway, eyes glued to the floor to avoid her worried eyes as her figure came into sight with the door open.

“Jack,” she breathed out, instantly pulling him into an embrace, “I’m here.”

He felt numb. His mind ached and his eyes hurt. But Niki’s hug felt like the world, a soft blanket of kisses, a bandage to fix it all. She was a saint, perfect, angelic, and overwhelmingly caring. She always was. And Jack was a bad person, he was nothing in comparison. She deserved more.

“I didn’t want you here,” he lied. Jack partially wished she’d take that and go, but at the same time, if she left right now, there might not be a Jack tomorrow. He hated that he was doing this to her. Niki shouldn’t be held hostage by his heart like this, he shouldn’t value her more than his life, but he did.

She was crying, which hurt more, “Jack, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry,” why was she upset? Jack was in the wrong, not her.

Niki hugged him for what might as well have been hours. Eventually, Jack had returned the gesture, shaky hands coming around her back, and gently placed them there. It felt okay, and so he tightened his grip, and held her like she would disappear if they parted.

But eventually they did part, but Niki’s hands stayed holding Jack’s.

“Jack,” she had the most gorgeous image of sympathy shining in her eyes, flicker of light glinting her passionate gaze, “I love you. It’s okay.”

Tears fell down his cheek unwillingly, and he could only stare back, throat unable to muster a response. He didn’t deserve an ounce of this; Niki was too good to a monster like him.

“You’re wasting your time,” his voice croaked.

She sighed, “I’m not. You’re important to me.”

Jack’s eyes squeezed shut, “Stop.”

“How can I prove it to you?” Niki whispered softly. And honestly, Jack had no clue. He was fully convinced he was unworthy. That he was disgusting, and horrible, and dramatic . Nothing she could say could change that.

Moments of silence brought Niki suddenly to a lit face, “Here, can you sit on the edge of the bed?”

He shrugged, too tired to argue or question. Jack did as she said, sitting upright on the pillows and messy sheets, waiting for her next move.

Niki stood in front of him, gave a soft smile, then rested her hands on his shoulders and lifted herself up to straddle Jack’s lap. She laid against his chest, humming softly. Jack felt his breath hitch uncomfortably in his lungs.

Before he could open his mouth, Niki was shrinking down, down, down. Her entire figure shifted until she was around an inch, give or take, tall, sitting on Jack’s lap and looking up smiling. He couldn’t help but return the expression, before biting down on his lip.

She lifted her arms, singling for him to pick her up. Jack obliged, bringing her to eye level. Niki’s miniature figure beamed at him, outstretched arms wishing for a hug. Jack obliged, bringing his palm now to his nose.

Her teeny voice squeaked out, “I’m going to prove I care. Okay?”

Jack’s eyelids lowered. That numbness really bit at him, hurting his brain with racing self-loathing thoughts. He watched cross-eyed to see Niki wrap her hands around his pointed nose. She nuzzled against the skin, humming softly.

“I love you,” she squeaked, then her grip slipped and she slid down. Jack panicked, reaching to catch her, but Niki caught herself on his lower lip.

He realized then she had intentionally dropped down, as her tiny hands pried open his lips, them letting out a pop as they pursed. Niki knocked on Jack’s teeth like a door, asking permission inside. Jack cringed up at the implication, she wasn’t meant to want to get close to him. She wasn’t meant to care or want to show affection.

“I-“ Jack started before Niki stole the opportunity, hopping inside his mouth the instant his teeth had opened. She snuck inside, flopping against Jack’s tongue.

He was suddenly hyperaware of his mouth, Niki’s little form sat on top of the muscle, shifting slightly inside him. The walls of his mouth couldn’t stop salivating, her tasting like sugar on his tongue. Saliva pooled around the appendage, and his teeth hovered awkwardly open.

Niki rubbed his tongue comfortingly, then scooted forward, using it as a slide as she slipped down, the saliva no doubt helping in the decent. She met the back of his throat, and her body paused, shimmying around. Jack wanted to spit her out, it was already terrifying enough to let people into his heart, much less his stomach. Especially Niki. He loved her so much, if he got so attached, he’d lose her. Like everyone else.

But Niki was determined, and she wouldn’t let him give up their friendship. That was plain and obvious. So, reluctantly, Jack swallowed.

It was terrifying. Letting her in, letting himself trust her. Letting the relationship form and stay between them. Niki went above and beyond every time to prove she wouldn’t just abandon Jack, and in a way, he hated it. It wasn’t normal to him, being cared about, so it made it unpredictable and confusing. He knew how to act when someone despised him, not the opposite. Processing it took so much effort.

But Niki did love him, and as she glided down the squishy wet walls of his esophagus, Jack cried.

Niki wanted to make it work, so she was going to make it work.

Soon enough, she met the open area of Jack’s stomach. Jack instinctively grabbed his stomach when her weight entered the organ. His palm rested against his shirt, eyes closed as wet eyelashes dripped.

She laid against the stomach walls, rubbing circles into the organ. Wordless affections were shared through slow movements between them, their hands placed on the same area, wall of flesh between as they pressed against one another.

Jack accepted it at last. Niki was here. She cared.

While before he was petrified of her being anywhere near him, now he wanted to keep her this close forever, never letting go of this. She was the healthiest thing to ever happen to him, and Jack was grateful.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

haiiiii helloooooo for the oc ask game :3

for jens -

hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

nd for messenger -

pain: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

Hello!!! ^_^ Your formatting is reminding me that I need to make these fancier, haha!

Ask Game

◈━ Jens ━◈

HATE: Jens can't stand it when people act like they know what's going on when they actually have no idea. People putting forward theories about his abduction? Stop, zip it right now, he's sick of it. Come to him with useful, unbiased evidence or not at all. This applies to other aspects of life, too - he doesn't appreciate those who think they know the absolute truth about how the universe works, or morality, that sort of thing. On one level, this is understandable, but on another level, it's rooted in his own envy over the idea that anyone can have that much certainty when he has none. I wonder if this will cause conflict between him and Messenger when they first meet...

DESIRE: I'll get a little deeper than I went in the character sheet: Jens wants to know that he will always be connected to the community of living people, that he will never be permanently cast out into the void. He wants to be free of the dread that hangs over him. That dread suggests that no matter how he tries to defend himself, one day he'll be ripped away from everyone for good, in manner deeper than just normal death. He wants to feel safe, to know that the person he loves is more powerful than the forces trying to tear them apart.

👁- Messenger -👁

PAIN: Messenger can feel types of pain that aren't even known to humankind. It has a very high tolerance to human pain. But it also has access to the mental world as a kind of extension of its body, so it feels something called psychic pain. Imagine feeling all of the inanimate objects around you like a part of your own body and then feeling them all thrown into chaos and broken apart - that's close to what psychic pain is like, and it shows up as disarray in liminal space. The worst pain Messenger ever felt came from the conditioning it underwent from its government, which tore apart whole sections of its mental world. It also feels the sensations of kinetic energy inside its body, and a lack of energy feels like a mixture of cold and starvation. Among the members of their own species, it is about average in terms of pain tolerance - maybe even a little sensitive to psychic pain.

BREAK: You don't want to be around when Messenger breaks. It gets violent, and as a being with powers, this means it starts wrecking the world around it. The mental world manifests on top of the physical world - objects get thrown around in a storm, the laws of physics and logic start to break down like an M.C. Escher drawing, black holes can form, etc. All of this is a way of expressing anger. The way to make messenger break is just to make it hurt people in a really tragic way one more god damn time. It's had enough at this point.

[sigmaelxgr]

Hello!

3, 7, and 15 from the OC trauma ask game for any OC of your choice :)

heyyy its the sixth time im trying to answer this ask!! :D i think Tumblr cant deal the length of it? i dont know but i couldnt just NOT elaborate on this, the questions were so good!! im so glad i can share with you points of this dunmer called Sangre/Xangr (Sangre is the most common spelling but Tumblr prefered with an X) brace yourself, dearest, bc thats a LONG answer that awaits!! LETS GO

3 - Have they died before ?

YOU BEGAN..... With the absolute most banger question of the whole ask meme. I am obliged to elaborate on this. I'll tag @shadylex bc, dear, you may like it (pls answer the same ask for Yera) How do I state this... Xangr doesnt really know if he's alive. Well. There are clues you'd say! But this boy is not quite sure about that. Xangr feels like his body is not his. He feels like his face is stolen from another. He feels like his whole life is what living as a cancer would be. He asphyxiates in his own rotten flesh. He feels his bones rejecting him so hard they cramble like glass from time to time. He feels STUCKED HERE... Somewhere not at the right place, somehow caged here inside of the One this body belongs to. So, if this meat isnt his, if those traits arent his neither, who is he? What is he here for? Does he even exist, if nothing is his? He's born aged 11, when a boy named Sigma-El shattered. He's been throwned into the hell of existance without any explanation. Xangr had no name back then. He had no idea why, he had no idea what was happening, no context, no clue but he felt MAD, he felt spontaneously FURIOUS about existing, he couldnt talk without spitting his rage to everything. He learnt quickly to dispise living, the rage turning his gaze away from his body, that made him SUFFER without any reason to be found. Pain alterated his appreciation of the world. Xangr experienced suffering so hard he was blinded by it. Each fiber of his being tore him apart, so violently he would bite, bleed himself to feel relief...

Until years, and years later, free from the Telvannis and far from Vvardenfell that he fled in his desperate fury against everything, an Altmer called Cyriel took long months to establish a dialogue with him. It was at first chaotic, but Cyriel understood that this insane violence directed toward the outside found its source directly into core. Cyriel acknowledged pain. He acknowledged trouble, hunger for answers, wishes for loneliness, DISTRESS. He asked him if he has a name, HIS name, and Xangr, named Sigma-El back then, said "Sangre." (A red pigment, HIS fav color)

Now that he has a word to design himself with, he began slowly to live as such. It took years again for Cyriel and Xangr to explore the implications of this new statement. What Xangr is, what is his role here. Cyriel was a fantastic friend, such a nice character (I love him with so much tenderness) but even now with dawning of answers, questions remained and Xangr feelt deeper and deeper as a hack, a fraud, he understood that they are at least two and feelt existing as stealing Sigma-El's life.

Sigma-El is here, somewhere, asleep. He knows the day Sigma-El would wake up, he'd die probably in counterpart. It would be the day he's not needed anymore - and each time Sigma-El or what will become Molkhun Dahkem take on their body, Xangr experiences anguish of disappearance again and again.

He feels alive nowadays, when he's painting his skin, when he's sewing his dresses, when he's performing dances, when he's having sex, when he eats juicy fruits or kahjiiti tajines, when he hears the enchanting sounds of his jewelry... and even more after the Planemeld in which he heavily took part back then, as a Worm Cultist. He got so much into death, so much into self-destruction..!

Now that he learnt to accept their condition, to love Sigma-El, to love himself too, pain appeased a lot. Yet he's so scared to die and willing to live his own life, he knows the clock is ticking bc he disobeyed Coldharbour, he knows he has to enjoy seconds before Oblivion reaps him... Even if in doing so, he keeps his dear Sigma-El forcefully shutted down for a while.

Life...or even what feels like a simulacre of it... Is way too good. Way too precious. Way too much of a miracle.

So I'd say.

Yes, Xangr knows death. He knows existing and non-existing. That's why he's so eager to survive.

7 - How easy is it to make them cry ?

You won't be capable to. He even doesnt know how to do. It happens that he feels numb and his body sometimes craves for tears, but they dont fall. It's like he never learnt to do so. It remains stucked.

Its due to the fact that even if, now, its better than ever, he doesnt feel connected to his envelop. He doesnt feel connected to his own feelings enough to let them exist this way. First, he's not concerned about people's emotions at all and dont experience them the same way, but foremost he struggles to let them live. That's why his smile is beautiful but empty, Xangr has a pretty face but almost no active emotions going through it. BUT THERE IS AN EXCEPTION. This exception being Sigma-El. When Xangr focus on Sigma-El, when he puts his hand on his belly as he was bearing a child, there is a link that creates here. He's so deeply merged with Sigma-El that he fades crying when his soul reverberates the later's light. Sig is now everything to Xangr, it's his infant, his lovely dear, his life evolves only around him being asleep and needing protection... Xangr feels so much intimacy, so much spontaneous understanding when Sigma-El is there with him, it's too much to handle. Brushing Sigma-El with the very end of his fingers... Brings the euphoria, the joy of existing and suddenly having all the answers. He gets emotional each time he mentions him.

15 - Are they neurodivergent ?

Heck yes they are. They are a system of alters, the host being Sigma-El. Sigma-El as such have a lot of autistic traits he gave to Xangr when he "fell asleep". Xangr is stimming a lot, barely interested in social conveniences, looks blunt, has a taste for riddles and troubles interacting with people. He's very independant and most of the time he's a sweetheart that people learn to love. He has a passion for erotic novels - he seeks stimulation and likes everything that brings sensations to his numb body. He's a bit ADHD, like myself, and we share some similarities that have a funny history. As no psychiatry is available in the TES, I made of their multiplicity a subject of wonder. Cyriel for exemple has theories of what happened, explaining with prisms and light theories, Xangr is more of a "We are a triangle" boy - he explains using geometry... But only Sigma-El has the answers. Xangr consideres Sigma-El to be like a mini-god having the power to mold himself in aspects and shapes. Its why Xangr reveres no Divine ; he reveres Sigma-El.