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caelum-in-the-avatarverse · 7 months ago

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Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available.

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community.

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company?

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists.

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits.

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people.

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it.

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

#ao3 #lore.fm #fanfiction #fandom history #gift economy #caelum rambles

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dreamlifebunny · 1 year ago

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how to script your dream life and use it with any method!

hello friends! today i want to share with you how i personally script my dream life, and how this script is both my void list, states list, and precursor to almost every manifestation method i've ever used. i love scripting because it is not only a method in and of itself but it is also a simple list of everything you desire that you can now manifest using any method you love!

check back later for a link to my scripting templates. in the meantime, here are the steps to creating your perfect script from scratch with examples! all you need is a place to write it down.

step one:

time to brain dump! at the top of your page, write out every desire that comes to your head in list format. don't overthink it and don't worry if they sound silly or unrealistic; remember, absolutely anything is possible! you can write out a few desires to start or go hardcore and write out hundreds, whatever you feel inspired by. you can always come back to this step later. here is my example:

step two:

now its time to get organized! look at the desires you've written and figure out what subcategories they fall under. for example, "my eyes are light blue and gorgeous" could fall under the category of "appearance," and "i have $100,000 in my bank account" could fall under the category of "wealth and items." feel free to use any category name that makes sense to you.

step three:

now that you have a couple of categories written out and understand the structure of the script, your mind might start to have even more ideas. "ooh, now that i see revision is a category, there are a couple more things i'd like to revise..." or "why stop at one SP when i could have everyone chasing after me?" for step three, we go a little deeper into these categories and add more details of what our dream life will look like. you can also add new categories that pop into your head - in the example below, i've added "the world and society" and "skills and abilities."

note: the reason why i broke this up into multiple steps instead of just writing "write out all your desires at once" is because our brains can be mean to us and make us procrastinate if something isn't done "perfectly," so that's why adding an extra step is important to bypass the perfectionism.

optional steps:

because scripting is such a creative and expansive process, we might think of ideas we'd like to manifest in the future but not right now/not instantly. i like to organize my script further by adding another category: "future manifestations." these are ideas that i would love to manifest at some point later on but not necessarily while my dream life is manifesting right now.

another idea is separating categories even further into "instant manifestations" (manifestations that happen right now without things needing to unfold) or "perfect timing manifestations" (manifestations that slowly unfold naturally and linearly), if you want to get specific about how they show up in your life! however, these steps are completely optional and just fun details for specificity, and i can make a more detailed post on this later.

how you can use your script with any method:

scripting has been used as a successful manifesting and shifting method on its own forever because it specifically addresses one of the most important steps in the manifesting process - deciding what you want! by writing out what you want in your dream life, you can now decide that your script will manifest on its own or you can use any method under the sun to fulfill yourself within:

the void state: if you enter the void state to manifest, you could affirm "i have everything in my dream life script"

affirming: you can affirm "everything in my dream life script has come true"

visualization: you could create an imaginative scene where all of your desires from your script are fulfilled, or you can imagine looking at your script and smiling because everything came true

subliminals: you can create a very simple subliminal where all of your desires are included, or even a sub where the only affirmation is "i have everything in my dream life script"

the possibilities with scripting are absolutely endless. i hope that this guide has given you the inspiration and direction to write your own wonderful and unique script. now, go and get your dream life!

have fun! bunny 💕

#law of assumption #neville goddard #manifestation #edward art #manifesting #loa #loassumption #dream life #scripting #reality shifting #manifest #master manifestor #dream girl #that girl #bunny's originals #script

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wonderjanga · 20 days ago

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Warfare

You see, Marvel’s mentioned the Wisdom of Solomon before. The JL never really thought much about it. As a result, the JL just thinks Marvel has all these… interesting ideas but just never says anything about them. Though, there are a couple times the ideas are actually voiced. (They don’t know Billy is just parroting whatever Solomon or occasionally another God with tell him)

Like the time Batman and Marvel got stranded on a planet that was stuck in the middle of war. They were promised

Rebel Leader: “Do either of you have any ideas to bring to the table?”

Batman: “No. Marvel?”

Marvel: “Huh? Oh uh… well I could magic a plague into the water near them. You said they’re using it for their water source, right? Then, when they’re weak, we can go around and take them out.” *sounds hesitant*

Batman: “Hmm… That could be a good idea, but what sort of plague are we talking about?”

Marvel: “Cholera.”

Batman: “What.”

Marvel: “Cholera.”

Batman: “Marvel, that’s fatal.”

Marvel: “Oh.”

Batman: “Yeah.”

*silence*

Marvel: “Well, if we’re quick, it we can get to them before they die.”

Batman: *stares for a bit, holding back a sigh* “We don’t even know if Cholera will affect their biology the same way it does humans.”

Rebel Leader: “What is this Cholera?”

Batman: “It’s a deadly waterborne disease.”

Rebel Leader: “I see… And you’re unsure whether it will work with our physiology… might I propose a different disease?”

So yes, biological warfare, that’s our first thing. Batman proceeded to spend a lot of time convincing the Rebel Leader not to nearly kill an entire group of people with their version of Cholera.

Then there was the time Bruce and Marvel were working together and got held up in a shootout at a lab.

Marvel: *looking at the various chemicals in the lab* “Gosh, I remember my first exposure to chlorine gas.” *getting nostalgic* (He’s from the 1940s in this one, guys)

Batman: “You’ve been exposed to chlorine gas?”

Marvel: “Yeah, and let me tell you, those dang Nazis were horrified when it didn’t work on me. Don’t worry though, we’re gonna be making mustard gas instead.”

Batman: “Captain, we are not doing that.”

Marvel: “Why? We have all the available ingredients.”

Batman: “Marvel.” *puts a hand on his shoulder* “Mustard gas can be fatal.”

Marvel: “Oh.”

Batman: “Yeah.”

*silence*

Marvel: “My bad.”

*more silence*

Batman: “Is this why you always let others plan?”

Marvel: “Are you gonna look at me weird if I say yes?”

Batman: “Hn.” (Translation: Yes, but it won’t be visible through my cowl)

This incident checks chemical warfare off the list. Bruce is now concerned as to why most of Marvel’s ideas are either nearly fatal or just fatal.

Then there was the time Marvel went undercover with Bruce Wayne, not Batman for whatever reason. They then got attacked by pirates while on a ship trying to gather information about some supervillain.

Bruce and Marvel: *taken cover under a table while the pirates fire cannon balls at them*

Bruce: “Any ideas?” *peaks over the cover only for a cannonball to whiz right past his head*

Marvel: “I think I have one. So here’s what I’m thinking. I take out their mast, steal all their oars, and then push them out to sea and let them drift wherever.

Bruce: “That’s… Intense. Wouldn’t they starve if you just let them drift?”

Marvel: “I guess. If they’re not saved, I mean.”

Bruce: *stares with the most deadpan face* “How about I come up with a plan instead?”

Marvel: “You got it boss.”

And last but not least, the physical warfare.

By the way, Billy doesn’t know Bruce is the Bat. No, no, no, he just thinks the guy is someone Batman wants him to work with. He was a little surprised to see the dude act all brooding like Mr. Batman when he had heard from others that he was a party boy. Oh well, not his business. Meanwhile, Bruce doesn’t know Marvel thinks he’s just interacting with a capable civilian.

That last part was inspired by @helps-the-writing-brain-go’s reblog of this post. Thanks for letting me write with your idea :)

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics #batman #bruce wayne

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marlshroom · 3 months ago

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came to the fucked up realization after finishing gravity falls again last night the parallels of the dream bubble bill made for mabel and the literal state of delusion he keeps himself in.

in the book of bill on the page where bill cipher describes how he figured out a way to manipulate her into giving him the rift, it says:

"Summers ending, my guy. Ending to death, bro. She'd do anything to make it last just a day longer. Probably something RASH and OUT OF CHARACTER, even!"

as we know, mabel cannot handle the fact that she will be growing up. that the relationship with her brother is going to change. she is scared of high school.

bill then says "That was it. She'd never make a deal with me. But she'd make a deal with someone she believed could give her more time. The dream was done. I had her."

bill then creates the dream bubble for mabel, he makes every one of her dreams come true, a place where time is still and she can be a kid forever. a lie so great that she wont have to face the truth.

in journal 3 on one of the pages bill is writing in code, we see this:

[ID: "I ask you, why must[should] time only move forward? Why must cause preceded effect. Who voted on the law of physics."]

my friend helped me break down what bill means by this:

why can we only move forward in the 4th dimension of time. why does something have to make another thing happen, why must cause come before the effect. why cant you move backwards, in the other direction, change the decisions youve made.

how interpret this is bill asking why he is not able to back and stop what he did to his family. he says to ford that he tried and failed to undo the past.** why did him wanting people to acknowledge his advantages instead of suppress him lead to the destruction of his whole dimension?

**(i just want to point out that this is probably the time where bill is the MOST open to anybody, or at least the first. to his henchmaniacs he had been telling them that he liberated his dimension until the oracle discovered the truth. here, to ford, he got so much closer to telling the truth. he SHOWS ford the last atoms of his world. he says that it was destroyed by a monster, not that it was liberated! destroyed)

back to when bill says "I had her" about mabel, he had her cause he knew exactly what needed to happen to trap mabel in a delusion because it is exactly what he is doing to himself. creating a fake narrative of what happened to him, that he was vindicated in killing his whole dimension. only ever doing exactly what he wants because confronting the truth is too scary for him(good fucking lord). the morality page offers good insight into this too.

i am actually just going to quote the whole page and highlight the important part. it speaks for itself really

"THE POINT IS it's[morality] is a very flexible concept! But parents and presidents don't want you to know that, because then you might start asking other questions, like who put them in charge, anyway? So they cram your brain full of guilt and regrets for transgressing the laws that they just made up(the laws that they made to prevent the destruction of their dimension, regardless of if the law + the wrongful medication of a fucking baby triangle did any good to actually prevent it). Wouldn't it be nice if you could put all that baggage down? Quell the shame that follows you everywhere for a lifetime of crimes? MAKE THE SCREAMS FINALLY STOP? The good news is you CAN silence that annoying voice, and here's how!

DENIAL

Works 100% of the time in every situation. What you you mean there are people who disagree? I can confidently say there aren't!

RATIONALIZATION

If you can do it, you can justify it! "Truth" is open-source code and anyone can edit it anytime! Want to be like me? List 3 "evil" things and then 3 "reasons why they're actually good." You'll be rationalizing like Bill in no time!

DETACHMENT

Did you know 100% of your human cells die and are replaced every 7 years? That means that anything you did 7 years ago wasn't even you-it was some dead loser! You can't be held accountable for what a dead person did! What? You think this is just another form of rationalization? I DENY THAT!

THE BILL CIPHER DECISION METHOD!

Working over the eons, the voices in my head teamed up and worked out a foolproof method for making any decision in any situation.

DO WHATEVER I WANT."

ooooooooooooooooooh boy.

he is fully admitting here that he is living in a completely different really in order to justify doing whatever he wants. he gives mabel the tools to deny, to rationalize, to detach herself from the reality of it all. that time has to move forward. and he thinks it will work because it worked on himself.

but it doesn't work on mabel because she understands that she needs other people. shes vunerable, she lets people in, admits when shes wrong. and bill cant do that because it would destroy the fantasy he's created for himself.

#gravity falls #gravity falls theory #gravity falls analysis #book of bill #the book of bill #tbob #thisisnotawebsitedotcom #bill cipher #mabel pines #marlstext

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kamiversee · 8 months ago

Text

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 50 || The Sad Backstory

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, heavy angst, childhood trauma, heavy mentions of violence/abuse, & death mentioning.

[ { A/N } ] ➤ The family dynamic isn’t canon to the anime/manga at all, in case that wasn’t obvious before now. So, the relations depicted here are simply made up for fanfic purposes. (Just wanted to put this disclaimer out there just in case)

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4.2k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——IT WAS SILENT for the first few minutes. Aside from the heat blowing onto the two of you, there was this sense of distance and coldness in the air.

Was that due to the rain? Was it the weather that’d brought such a despairing feel to the two of you? Or, was it truly that distance and coldness were approaching?

You didn’t know what to say just yet and neither did Choso. The thoughts in his brain had slowed and he was organizing how he should go about this while wondering if you’d just come out and explain yourself.

Who should start this tough conversation, he or you? Does it matter? If you don’t start, does that silently say something about you and what's been done? If he doesn’t start, does that make him seem upset with you? The two of you collectively felt the same thing and you both didn’t know what to do.

You weren’t used to getting to this point in a conversation. What you’d grown accustomed to was nothing but confusion on top of vague explanations that further clouded your blurred assumptions of the truth. Gojo had done that to you far too many times for you to know what to do now.

How… What’s the right way to tell Choso everything? Are you going to tell him everything? Is it best that you do? What if he hates you like how you hated Gojo? It wouldn’t be weird after all, you hated Gojo and loved him at the same time— whether or not you’d like to admit it.

What about Gojo-, wait what? What about Gojo? Why are you considering him right now? Are you worried that if you explain the story of the list, it’ll put this negative stigma on Gojo? Who cares?

You do.

You hate that you do but it’s true.

You’ve seen too many sides of Gojo for you not to care about painting him as some big villain when, at the end of the day, even villains have tragic stories that molded them into the person they are now. That doesn’t excuse the man but since you know nothing of the truth about Gojo, you can’t see yourself making him seem like a bad guy anymore.

He has his issues, sure. But, you don’t know why. That’s what makes this all so damn difficult.

How can you tell Choso that the other person you fell in love with is the reason you slept with Sukuna? What would Choso think of that? Would he pity you or would he blame you for not coming to him sooner?

How the hell are you going to-

“Baby,” Choso calls out, ripping you from your thoughts completely. You’d zoned out and didn’t even realize you had tears in your eyes until you blinked them away and turned your head to Choso.

His hand reaches over to you and he places it atop your thigh. You look down and notice your leg has been bobbing up and down excessively. Were you that anxious?

This won’t go badly, right? Why are you panicking? Are you-

“Relax,” Choso whispers, and his thumb swirls over your thigh, trying to soothe you. “Whatever you’re thinking, ignore it.”

You swallow and stare at the man with widened eyes, “But-“

“It’s just you and me right now,” He says, forcing a soft smile on his face, “Get outta’ your head.”

You take a deep breath and sniffle, batting your eyelashes as you try to rid your eyes of the tears. Choso lifts his hand from your thigh and in a way that seems to be second nature to him, he wipes away the tears from your face.

“It’s just me ‘nd you, baby,” He murmurs, “Stop being so nervous, okay?”

“Choso,” You hum, watching the way his gaze softens.

“Yes princess?” He replies. His voice is so gentle now that it’s making you feel guilty for some reason.

You exhale carefully, “What if… W-What if I tell you everything a-and you…” Your eyes water all over again, “What if you hate me-“

He cuts you off with the sound of your first name leaving his lips. His tone is still light but there’s this sternness to it, almost as if he didn’t like what you just said, “There’s no truth you can give me that’d make me hate you.” Choso reassures you, leaning closer just a bit, “I love you. Everything that’s you, I love.”

Your nerves are still unsettled, “E-Even if-“

“The worst thing you could say to be is that you’re in love with Sukuna,” He tells you, scoffing a little.

You shake your head no and your face twists up, “I’m not.”

“Alright then.” Choso shrugs, “I told you, I’ll love you no matter what. In a dark room, you’re my light, no matter how dim that light may be.”

You frown, “Cho, you really did lie, you’re just fine with words.”

“Only at times like this,” He murmurs, “When uh, when it’s you I guess…”

You lift a hand up to your face, pulling his hand away and turning to it. Choso watches you as you shyly kiss his palm and he swallows down the tsunami of loving feelings that threatened to drown him. Such a simple action and yet it made his mind blank for a second.

Then you move away from his hand, “Okay,” You utter, “Where uhm…” Your eyes trail back over to him, “Where should I start?”

You release his hand and he retracts it from you simply. Thinking for a minute, Choso does that thing where he studies your eyes, losing himself in them. Then, he lets out a sigh when he comes up with something.

“What if we uh,” He moves to adjust himself in his seat, “What if I ask you questions and you just answer?” Choso suggests.

You blink, “You… You don’t want me to just tell you everything?”

“No,” He sighs, “There are certain things I don’t think I’d want to know.”

By that, it’s meant that you may give him details that he just doesn’t want in his brain. Choso wants the truth, yes, but only parts of the truth that won’t make him feel sick. Knowing that you had sex with Sukuna is already enough, he doesn’t need more details surrounding that. Hence the offering of asking questions.

“Okay,” You murmur.

“But,” Choso’s brows knit together and he faces forward in deep thought, “Well, I don’t know if maybe I should just tell you everything first.”

You turn to face forward as well, your eyes dropping down to your lap as you toy with your fingers, “Well, that’s up to you I guess. Is it better for you to tell me everything so that I have it in mind or is it better to know all I’ve done as you tell me everything?”

He swallows, “The first, I think.”

“Did that even make sense?” You breathe out to yourself, worrying that you may have confused him-

“Yeah,” Choso says, “Yeah it did. T-That’s uh, that’s actually better than what I suggested.”

“Is it?” You ask, glancing at him.

He nods, “Mhm, I think if I tell you everything, you may understand the reactions I’ll have to certain answers you give me.”

A sigh slips past you, “Okay, tell me everything then.”

There’s a hint of a smile there on his face but it lingers for only less than a second before that, and every ounce of emotion is drained from his face. Choso’s face goes completely expressionless.

“Where do I even start…” He mutters.

Your voice is soft with him, “Wherever feels most comfortable.”

“Everything about what I’ve experienced with Sukuna is uncomfortable.” He huffs out, “And… I’ve never told anyone about it.”

“Not even…” You bite your lower lip for a second but then you ask anyway, “Not even Yuki?”

“She learned more about Sukuna in that cafe than she has during her relationship with me so, no.” Choso explains, “I don’t like talking about him.”

“I understand.” You say, nodding, “And that’s alright, I’m not going anywhere so, take your time.”

“Alright,” Choso sighs heavily, “Well…”

He starts slow, careful even. It was clear by the way he shifted in his seat and put his words together in a well throughout manner.

Choso began by explaining when he met Sukuna. Because they’re step-siblings, they only share one parent and in this case, it was their father. Choso explained how his dad was a complicated man who found himself having two different women in which he went back and forth between.

Choso met Sukuna when he was five years old, Sukuna being eight at the time. From first impressions, Choso tells you that he thought it was cool to have an older sibling and that he looked up to Sukuna. At five, only Eso was born and not yet Kechizu.

Given that, Choso knew what it was like to play the role of an older brother and he loved it so he thought it’d be amazing to have that experience for himself. Only, Sukuna was the worst thing to ever happen to him. Choso describes in vivid detail how eight-year-old Sukuna looked. For one, the resemblance to the later-born Yuji is uncanny, one would mistake them for twins if they were the same age.

Even so, Sukuna’s appearance was odd. He was only eight and yet he had a bruised lip and a look of pure hate in his eyes. At the time, Choso thought it was cool that Sukuna was hurt but seemed unfazed by the pain and even wanted to be like him.

But, the second five-year-old Choso found himself alone with the older boy and made the mistake of commenting on his bruised lip, praising it in an attempt to connect with him, Sukuna punched him.

One hit was all Choso needed to realize, even at the age of five, growing up with Sukuna wasn’t going to be as pleasant as he thought. And it sure as hell wasn’t, there was nothing pleasant about growing up with Sukuna, especially when Choso’s mother later passed away during the birth of Kechizo.

She was a soft-spoken woman who hardly spoke up for herself in regard to her husband who had an entirely different family so, when she passed, Choso remembers being sad but the emotion didn’t remain long. Anger clouded Choso more than anything at the time and to make matters worse, he and his two younger siblings moved in with his step-family.

It was torture. The process of raising his two younger brothers while being beaten up and ridiculed by an older brother simply made Choso’s life hell. Violence seemed to follow him everywhere. From Sukuna hitting him whenever he felt like it to watching Sukuna’s mother beat up on his father, Choso became very well acquainted with abuse and violence.

Because he knew no better, he never really stood up for himself either. In the slim chance he did, Sukuna would proceed to simply bully him— locking him in a dark room for hours knowing it scared Choso, beating him with items, some sharp, some dull, he doesn’t remember, it all hurt the same.

This hate that burns in Choso’s heart for Sukuna just built up over the years more and more until Yuji was born.

Choso tells you he never knew why but when the kid was born, Sukuna softened up on him for a while. Choso was nine when Yuji was born so for four years before that, he’d been bullied, outcast, and abused by his family, safe from his younger siblings of course.

Maybe it was the way Sukuna softened up after his youngest brother was born that Choso found himself catering to Yuji more than anything. Perhaps it was an act of thanks as Yuji felt like his savior when all he did was be born.

Even so, as much as Choso denies it, Yuji was his favorite. Not at first though, when he initially saw the bright pink-haired baby, he was repulsed, thinking this would be Sukuna in smaller form. Said repulsion remained until the first time Yuji smiled at him.

It was different. Sukuna never smiled so, Choso knew then that Yuji would be nothing like his older identical sibling.

Even so, years passed and Choso continued to endure abuse for his now three younger brothers. Sukuna never laid a hand on any of them since he had Choso to beat up on and for a while, Choso was okay with that.

But of course, that only lasted until their parents passed. A car accident was all it took to strip all five children of their parents. But, by that time, Sukuna was eighteen and immediately put in charge of his four other siblings. It was unjust, of course, as no eighteen-year-old should have to raise four siblings by himself.

Choso tells you how he doesn’t remember how it all worked exactly but, Sukuna managed to convince those of the law to have him become their parental guardian. The man got a well-paying job, god knows what it was too because he had so much money, he made sure that all four boys were able to continue to attend school, etc.

Basically, of all this care and parenting, what Choso couldn’t understand is why Sukuna did that. He didn’t know why Sukuna didn’t simply allow the four to go to some orphanage and part ways, it’s not like he ever showed love to them anyway.

But, Choso eventually learned the answer as Sukuna treated all four of his younger siblings as his servants— forcing them to do whatever he needed, regardless of the wrong behind it or the difficulty. Choso lived with Sukuna as his parental figure in that big house he now throws parties at for years.

And for some time, he really believed Sukuna couldn't get any worse. That was, until at age seventeen Choso witnessed with his own eyes Sukuna knocking a woman out.

“He what?” You scoff.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. It was already a lot to take in but the most unbelievable part of it was Sukuna’s treatment of women, especially after you think back to how he treated you.

“You heard me,” Choso hums, shrugging, “He knocked her out cold. Hell, I thought she was dead.”

Your lashes are batting in disbelief, “He just… He just punched this random chick?”

“W-Well, no, of course not,” Choso goes to explain further, “From what I remember, that was his girlfriend…”

You scoff, “You’re joking.”

“I’m not, she used to come over all the time before that,” He tells you.

Then, Choso explains the entire day to you.

How that day Sukuna came home late in the afternoon covered in bruises, cuts, and blood. Choso tells you he tried to ask Sukuna what happened but, naturally, all he got was a simple fuck off from his older brother. Of course, Choso didn’t need to be told twice and he did that.

Barely twenty minutes had gone by and the doorbell rang. Choso was in another room but he heard Sukuna go to answer it, followed by the sound of his girlfriend’s voice. Choso tells you it sounded like they were arguing and it was so loud and heated up until the sound of a slap echoed throughout the house.

Choso had gotten up from where he was and went to go see what happened and just as he neared the corner, he heard the sound of a punch, followed by a slight crack, and then a thump. When he rounded the corner, he saw Sukuna standing over his girlfriend who was out cold on the ground with what seemed to be a broken jaw.

You’re told that this was the only time he’d ever seen Sukuna act so oddly because although he couldn’t see his face, Sukuna’s fingers were trembling and he was breathing heavily. Then, Choso thinks he imagined it but he swears he saw something wet fall from Sukuna’s face.

“I think it was blood though,” Choso says, “I can’t imagine that man crying but, he did stand there for a while.”

“So, he knocked his girlfriend out and just stood there?”

“Yeah, for at least five minutes just staring down at her, almost like he was waiting for her to get back up,” Choso proceeds, “And when he did move, it was to look back at me. I was scared he’d take his anger out on me like always but, he didn’t.”

“What did he do?”

“He told me that if there’s anything he wants me to learn from him,” Choso slowly looks at you, “It’s that I should ‘never let a woman destroy what makes me a man’.”

“I see.”

“Either way, Sukuna changed again after that.” He goes on with his story, having grown more comfortable with opening up to you, “He went back to hitting me, threatening to hurt Eso and Kechizu, never Yuji though…”

You listened again, nodding and taking in everything given to you.

Choso explains that this continued until he turned eighteen and Sukuna was twenty-one. Choso didn’t hesitate to move out and in doing so, he was soon able to gain custody of his brothers, just not Yuji.

He hated that he couldn’t take Yuji with him as he moved out but, he thought maybe it’d be okay since Sukuna never touched Yuji. Choso hates thinking back on it now because he wishes he fought harder.

Even so, Sukuna just had his way over those in law, or maybe connections, Choso wasn’t sure but he somehow managed to keep Yuji under his guidance. That’s when Choso requested one thing from Sukuna, that request being that Yuji is actually taken care of and never touched.

Less than a month after Sukuna agreed to this promise, Choso came over to check on his youngest sibling, and lo and behold, the kid had a black eye. Choso had never felt such a murderous intent rile up in him the way it had that day.

He and Sukuna fought later that day, Choso not only lost said fight but also knew that because of it, he’d never be able to win custody over Yuji since Sukuna pulled the self-defense card.

Either way, to wrap things up, Choso tells you that since then he’s been back and forth between school and court trying to win custody over Yuji. He’s still struggling with it but he’s trying his hardest. Choso tells you he’s lucky enough to have his other two brothers, who reside in a distant relative’s place now.

Even with the tiring processes of legal proceedings and court battles, Choso explains he’ll keep trying until he physically can’t anymore because he refuses to allow Sukuna to harm Yuji forever. Plus, that bright smile of Yuji’s is what keeps Choso motivated.

It was like Yuji knew his big dark-haired brother would help him out eventually. And even if he didn’t, Choso points out to you how Yuji talks like he didn’t mind fighting with Sukuna and that he’s managed to sneak a few hits on the guy before.

In the midst of all that, there was that day Choso ran into you.

“Like I said, violence follows me everywhere so it’s kinda funny how we literally ran into each other,” Choso exclaims, his face brightening back up for the first time since this convo started. “I was… I dunno, enamored by you? I mean, I’ve had crushes and girlfriends before but just that small first convo with you was everything to me.”

“I’m glad I was feeling talkative that day,” You joke, “Normally I would’ve picked my stuff up and ran off, especially since you’re hot.”

Choso can’t help the grin that spreads across his face, “Mhm, same here. Those shoes you were wearing really caught my eye though.”

“Yeah and your face tatt’ caught mine,” You explain, smiling to yourself as you both recall it, “It’s kinda sad to find out you only got it to cover a scar. I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”

Choso shrugs, “It’s fine now. I uh, I actually feel better now that I’ve said it all out loud.”

“Really?” You ask, tilting your head a bit.

“Mhm.” He hums, “I mean, it wasn’t easy to explain, sorry for stuttering so much by the way, but I’m still glad it’s all out now.”

A wider smile spread across your face and despite the tragic story just heard you’re thankful, “Thank you for opening up to me.”

“Thank you for letting me,” Choso replies.

The two of you look at one another. It’s a long gaze, a connecting gaze, a telling one. Sounds of rain hitting the car are heard but it’s all a blur as you both simply take in one another.

That was until you utter his name, “Choso.”

“Yes?” He whispers, his voice slipping out so small as if the next thing you say could make or break him.

Your hand reaches over and his eyes drop to it for a moment as it goes to his face and you shift in your seat so that both of your hands can cup his cheeks in your palms. Choso blinks, wondering what exactly you are doing until you pull him close and lean in.

When close enough, you stare right into his eyes and carefully speak, “In case you haven’t been told enough,” You start, “And, in case you don’t know, you didn’t deserve any of that.”

He nods, “I know-“

“You deserve love, Choso.” You claim.

He swallows hard, worried about where this is going.

A sigh slips past your lips, “And I’m not a perfect person but…”

Choso’s brows raise, “But…?”

“Uh, I don’t know if I can give that to you.” You warn.

He couldn’t believe what you just said, “What?”

“In the way you deserve.” You quickly clarify, “I can love you Choso b-but I’m no better than-“

“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.” Choso cuts off, “Whatever love you want to give me I’ll take it happily.”

Now you’re nervous and almost insecure given what you know and have done, “What if it’s not enough?”

“We’ll make it enough.” He argues.

You frown, “Choso…”

“I’m serious. I’ve explained myself to you already, I hope it’s understandable that any love you give me I’ll take and cherish for as long as you’ll let me.”

“But you could find so much better-, so much more.”

“I don’t wanna search anymore,” He hums, “And what better is there for me to find? What’s more than you?”

Your brows pinch together, “Someone who can love you better than me-“

“That person doesn’t exist.”

“Yes they do-“

“Well, I don’t want them.” Choso cuts off. Nothing you say will change his mind.

You roll your eyes, “You need to raise your standards.”

“Why?” He almost smiles, “My standard is you.”

You scoff, “My point exactly-“

Just as quickly as he nearly smiled, he got serious again, “You make me happy and feel like I’m wanted. What more could I ask for?”

“Certainty.” You tell him.

“We’re certain now, aren’t we?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Choso tilts his head at you, “You said earlier that you thought about changing what we are…”

“I know but then everything came out and-“

“And nothing changed.” He interprets, “My feelings for you didn’t change.”

The way he won’t hear your warnings makes you nervous all over again, “Well let me get the rest of the truth out and see if it does.”

“It won’t.”

Sighing, “You don’t know that.” You say.

“I’m telling you, it won’t.” Choso refutes.

“Choso-“

“Baby you could kill someone and I’d still love you.” He claims dramatically.

You blink repetitively, “I-“

His eyes close for a moment as he takes in what he just said, “I know that sounds crazy but, I’m serious.”

It’s hard to wrap your head around but you try, “Why?”

“Because I can’t get rid of it,” Choso explains vaguely.

“Rid of what?”

“These feelings I hold for you.” The way he clarifies everything after a simple question is so refreshing for you, “They don’t go away. No matter how angry or unsure I am, it’s always there. Even when I left you, I wanted to come back because I still loved you.”

“Choso, this is-“

“I told you I’m good at waiting. If the truth from you is poison then let me intoxicate myself. Let me feel the pain that is loving you if that’s what it is.”

“Y-You really need someone better-“

“Why?” Choso isn’t getting it in the slightest and he does not plan to, “Are you not perfect for me?”

“No, I’m not.” You explain.

“I think you are.” He shrugs.

“You’re delusional.”

“Very.”

Yeah, there’s no getting through to this man. He’s in love with you and hopelessly blinded by it too. Thank god you’re not some manipulative bitch because it’d be disastrous for this man if you were.

Choso then moves to comfort himself in his seat again and you do too. “Anyway,” Choso says, “Now that I’ve explained myself…”

You swallow this thick lump of nerves in your throat.

“Can I ask you the first question I have?” He requests.

“Of course.”

“How many?” Choso questions vaguely.

“How many, what…?”

“Guys,” He glances at you, “How many guys have you slept with since knowing me?”

Yep.

You’re fucked.

It was only the first question and you already didn’t want to answer.

But, he deserves to know right?

Choso deserves to know…

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

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tags;

@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

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leighsartworks216 · 1 month ago

Text

Love Me, That's All I Ask Of You

Sylus x gn!Reader

Apparently my brain can only cope with angst if it has a happy ending rn @comatosebunny09 YOU DID THIS (/positive)

Inspired by this post

Title from "All I Ask Of You" from Phantom of the Opera

Warnings: blood, injury, self-destructive behavior, swearing, requited unrequited love, angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, kissing, ignoring the red string of fate, jealousy, soft Sylus

Word Count: 1,900

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The repetitive thwack of the punching bag keeps you going. Harder and harder, faster, more precise.

Your knuckles are bleeding. It stains the vinyl of the bag. They sting with every slight adjustment of your hand, with every punch. They’re probably misaligned, too. On the verge of breaking. But it’s not enough.

Sweat drips down your forehead and back. You’ve been down here for hours. You don’t want to leave.

It’s so fucking childish - you know that. But it hurts so fucking bad. Hearing the way he speaks to her, like you’re not in the room. The way he seeks out the banter and teasing conversations they share. The way he looks at her…

Is the only thing you’re good for your loyalty?

And it’s not like he hasn’t noticed the way you distance yourself. He’s brought up your over-the-top silence, saying he hasn’t heard your voice in a week. He’s tried asking what’s wrong, but you never answer. And when you stopped sleeping in his room altogether? He looked exhausted the next day, staring after you like he was working to decipher why he’d been left to sleep alone. The only company you seemed to seek anymore was that of Mephisto’s.

God, Mephisto. That crow had shown you their excursion to enhance her ability. You couldn’t deny the sick satisfaction you got when she still couldn’t Resonate with him, whether it’s because she found him “disgusting” or some other reason… But why did he have to look so offended by it?

You hit the bag so hard it rips. Sand pours out of the tear like water, draining onto the floor. You’re mesmerized by it. The slight hiss of the sand moving together, pouring out like a faucet and pooling on the floor into a steadily growing pile. It’s almost soothing.

Almost.

You kick the sand to the side. It fans out across the black floor in an arc of dappled white.

The prickle at the back of your neck puts all your nerves on high alert, but you know not to be afraid of it. You know the source. The cause of all your rage. The last person you want to see right now. You’d even take Little Miss Hunter over him.

You turn and meet his eye. Crimson, sharp with concern to match the furrow in his brow. It burns through you, all too familiar and, once upon a time, comforting. When he could look at you and so easily know exactly what you were feeling, even before your deal. They flicker down to your hands, crusted over with blood.

“It’s not like you to hide away when something bothers you,” he states, shifting his weight to his other foot as he crosses his arms. He’s right, too; for a while now, if something - anything - bugged you, he was the first to know, usually seconds after it started grating on your nerves. Still, you don’t say anything.

Sylus sighs. You’re nothing if not stubbornly persistent. He holds a hand out, motioning toward your own.

You think about obeying. Ever since Little Miss appeared, you haven’t really touched him. It was of your own volition - a sacrifice to pull yourself away and watch from afar - but you can’t deny how much you miss it.

His frown deepens when you stay exactly where you are. “So it’s something I’ve done.” Your face remains set and unemotive. His hand returns to its crossed position, finger tapping against his leather jacket. “Something so terrible you’d rather hide away from me.”

He looks you up and down, studying every small tell he can find, any twitch or involuntary muscle spasm. He doesn’t find any. Another frustrating skill of yours. The only thing he can latch onto is the state of your hands. He’s not used to seeing your own blood staining your knuckles. If you used your bare hands at all, the only blood you’d be covered in when all was said and done was that of your prey.

“And enough to harm yourself.”

He meets your eyes again. It almost feels familiar. That intense insistence on knowing you, on wanting to know every single thing about you even if it takes eons. But now it’s not out of an innate desire to unravel the secrets you wrap yourself in. It’s prying. It’s grabbing bolt cutters and breaking away each chain link one by one.

He takes a slow step forward, testing the waters.

You don’t move.

He takes another, dropping his arms to his side.

You study him in return. He’s tense. You see it in the set of his shoulders.

He’s five feet away when Mephisto appears in a whirl of smoke on your shoulder. He caws twice before projecting a video on a little holographic screen.

Little Miss Hunter, searching for the brooch. Yesterday, Mephisto had snuck it off Sylus’s body and brought it to you. You’d had a brief moment of fun teasing Little Miss with it, silently taunting her as you twirled it lazily between your fingers while she threatened you. You have no doubt after hiding it that it found its way back to Sylus.

You watch his face as he watches the screen. The intensity leaves his eyes, replaced with the calculating stare of a businessman in his trade. He watches her frustratedly try to break the lock on a cabinet, determined to check behind every item on display to make absolutely sure the brooch isn’t hiding behind them. When she turns to the bookshelf in a huff, she pauses. Sylus’s eyes narrow a fraction. She runs over to the shelf and starts emptying it out book by book, fanning through pages for any sign of a secret compartment to hide something inside. There was one book of such a nature; you’d hid the brooch inside of it, just to see if she would be hell-bent enough to search through every single one.

He looks away from the projected images, eyes softer than before. He’s figured you out, you’re sure of it.

“Search me,” he says. It’s not a demand, it’s an offer. Your expression falters for a millisecond, but he catches it. Of course he catches it. He opens his arms, inviting you in. Mephisto’s video feed disappears from view as he flies up to sit on the broken punching bag. “Find the brooch.”

You glance him up and down. There are plenty of places for something that small to hide.

Hesitantly, you step forward. His eyes follow you, but he remains still. This close, you refuse to look at his face. You haven’t been near enough to feel his radiating heat like this in so long…

You feel his sides first. The pockets of his leather jacket, both inside and out, are empty. There’s nothing concealed in his waistband. You don’t look at his face as you reach up to feel along his collar and lapels.

You pat along the length of both his arms. Aside from muscle, you find nothing. You reach into his pants pockets, but the only thing you pull out is his phone. You slip it back in before feeling down the long length of his legs. You pull up the bottom hem of his pants and check the top of his socks that peek out of his shoes, but there’s still nothing there.

You stand up, hands falling back to your sides. You meet his eyes. He doesn’t have the brooch.

Mephisto caws again. You turn to look over your shoulder. Little Miss Hunter, surrounded by a pile of books, triumphantly holds up the red-jeweled brooch, dropping the book you hid it in into the mess. Gentle fingers glide along your jaw to turn your face back to him.

Sylus looks at you in a way you never thought you’d see again. He’s leaned down to reduce the strain on his neck and be closer to you, but there’s still about a foot of distance between you. Even the way he touches you is reserved, like he’s waiting for you to pull away or punch him.

“I’m sorry.”

Your breath hitches. He… apologized? Of all the things he could have said, you never expected that.

“Whatever binds me to her,” he whispers, “it holds nothing to you. I should have made that clear much sooner.”

“What binds you to her?” Your voice is raspy from disuse. His shoulders relax, just so relieved that you’re speaking to him again.

He shakes his head slightly. “A past I should have buried a long time ago.”

It’s vague, he knows it. You wish he would tell you more, tell you exactly what happened that has him so inextricably connected to Little Miss Hunter. But he never pried into your own past, for better or worse. Maybe you both need them to die, buried at least 12 feet under and covered with a block of cement.

You lift your hand to trace his cheek. He sighs, leaning into the touch. Your fingers are rough and cracked, blood drying on your knuckles. The copper twang is hard to miss. He turns his head to kiss your palm, eyes closing in reverence. You fully cup his cheek and draw him in, kissing him softly at first.

Your lips tremble with overwhelming emotion. The anger that burns in your heart is slowly snuffed out by the soothing balm of his quiet sigh, a hushed whisper of your real name, not your moniker. You wonder for the first time since this began if he felt the same loss you did when you began distancing yourself from him. When you went back to your old room instead of sleeping in his bed, if he looked so tired the next night because he couldn’t sleep at all without you there beside him.

You get your answer in the way he desperately pulls you into kiss after kiss, burning with passion and trying to catch up for the time lost. In the way his hands hold your face, tangling with the hairs at the back of your neck as he keeps you close. In the way he sighs and gasps so longingly, savoring everything you give him.

He feels how much you missed him in much the same way. In the way you step closer until your bodies are pressed together. In the way you grab onto his jacket’s lapel. In the way you dig your bloody fingers in his white hair.

You’re both panting when he finally pulls away, breaths mixing in the centimeters between your faces as he refuses to move back any farther, forehead resting insistently against yours. Neither of you say anything for a moment, basking together in the quiet aftermath of the storm.

His hand is warm and gentle when he pulls yours from his hair. He turns it over to press featherlight kisses along your busted up knuckles. “Let’s take care of you, sweetheart, hm?” His eyes are half-lidded with affection when he looks at you. “The auction is tomorrow night. I need to show everyone just who I belong to.”

Your heart skips in your chest as you draw him in again by his leather jacket, biting down sharply on his lower lip. He hisses at the sting, but groans with want when you pull away. His eyes are drawn to his blood on your lips. “I’ll make sure they never forget.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021

#fanfic #fanfiction #sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #angst #hurt/comfort

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littlemissmentallyunstable · 3 months ago

Text

there’s been lots of requests and comments so here it is PART 3!!! (SHE’S HERE first anon, hope you survived this long second anon and it was not a dream third anon, I’m posting/making it now fourth and fifth anon)

some of you were going feral for part 2 so I hope this lives up the expectation 😭😭 if not I’m severely sorry

title: the dancer and the angel part 3

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: grayson has just admitted to kissing lyra kane, the girl you’d been worried about, the girl that was stunning, the girl he said didn’t matter… he chose her over you so now what??

parts: part 1 part 2 part 4

warnings: swearing, SPOILERS FOR TGG

a/n: okay so I hate switching POVs but I felt it was necessary here and I know the start is the same as the part 2 but in Gray’s POV but trust me there is lot more

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31

GRAYSON’S POV

Guilt has chewed me up and spat me out the whole walk back to our shared room. There’s a pulsating lump in my throat that aches relentlessly, reminding me of what I’ve done. I am a terrible person. I never deserved her and now I’ve done the worst thing I could’ve possibly done, that anyone on this whole planet could’ve ever done. And she will never forgive me for it. I wish there was a way to turn back time and alter certain events. As soon as the time machine is invented, no doubt by my very own brother Xander, I’m coming back to moments before now to stop my idiot brain from-

I can’t even think it. Maybe it’s because it makes it more real. It’s like the last few moments of my life have been erased from my brain, it’s a blank canvas and I have no paints. I know what I did but I can’t remember exact details. Still, I can taste her on my lips, an over sweet taste that was almost too sickly has now morphed into something bitter. Her perfume lingers on my clothes and adds to my ever growing headache. I don’t want to smell her, I don’t want the reminder of the awful human I have become. The monster that now inhabits my body, lives in my skin, breathes my air and poisons the people I love. The ones I truly love.

Y/n. At one point she was the only reason I was still existing, still carrying on. She somehow managed to give me the fight to keep carrying on. I got up most days because I knew I would get to see her face. And now I’m going to throw everything away, our whole relationship. Everything we’ve been through or planned to go through together. It will reduced to nothing in a few minutes.

I’m outside the door, my feet have carried me here through muscle memory. I must go in, I must face her I’m aware but I’m afraid. I’ve never felt so pathetic. I wonder if she is still asleep. Though, I can’t work out whether I’d rather she be awake or asleep. I don’t think I could bear to look at her angelic feature either way. Those wide eyes, round lips, heavenly- I can’t bear it, I’m going to lose her, all of her.

I fiddle around with the key, hoping the door will just never unlock so I don’t have to face this. The mechanism clicks, mocking me. I step in silently and face the door to lock back up again. I don’t understand why, I know I’ll be kicked out in a matter of seconds, what good will a locked door be? And yet I’m still facing the door, fumbling with the key, my back towards her. Though I can hear her getting out of bed. She’s awake. My body’s immediate response is to go into a state of paralysis. I can’t move as the guilt ridden cement hardens over my body, creating an outer shell of the cruel creature I’ve become. Her body is behind mine. I can feel her bright presence radiating her usual tentative nature.

“Are you okay?” I hear her whisper as she touches my arm so gently it stings.

It stings so sharply because I know what I’ve done. The shameful crime I’ve committed. I jerk away suddenly.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, deep concern in her tone.

It kills me. It’s a poisoned dagger wedged deep within my heart, hitting every vital artery. Her voice is so soft, so melodic. She cares so much, too much and I’m about to destroy it all. And as much as I could not say a word I couldn’t live a lie, the guilt would eat me alive. How could I look her in the eye and tell her she’d always been the only one when I know she hadn’t? She’d already noticed earlier today my distant mood. She had always been observant, vigilant about those things concerning me and I’d always been grateful. I wouldn’t have that anymore. Lyra had been on my mind earlier and I couldn’t tell her. Now she would realise.

“No,” I reply.

My voice is unfamiliar to myself, it’s sharp and blunt. It sounds horribly harsh. I could feel it hurt her, the air ripples with a touch of dimness when I hurt her. Even with my back to her it’s obvious to me. I know her so well, too well and from this day on we might drift to perfect strangers. That thought hurts me more than anything.

“Where have you been?” she says. Her voice so sweet, so innocent, cruelly naïve.

I don’t want to break her, I don’t want to do it. It would be like smashing a glass ballerina. Something so beautiful, something so delicate should be preserved not purposely broken. I force my eyes to meet hers. I immediately regret it. The soft mellow colour all melts into one, clawing at my heartstrings and ripping the organ to shreds. She’s so beautiful. How had I ever looked at any other? How had I let myself?

Suddenly I’m drowning in guilt. I don’t know how, it just comes over me suddenly. Like a tidal wave I had my back to. I’ve been swept under by an endless ocean of shame. My lungs swollen full of my own black sin. I don’t know how but I manage to choke out two shaky words.

“I’m sorry.”

My voice cracks. My voice never cracks. She knows that. I’m sturdy, I’m strong, I’m the rock that never breaks and here I am. Here I am crumbling into dust. She’s too smart to miss the signs, she’s too clever not to immediately know something so horribly wrong, her mind is too sharp not to have worked half of it out. She’d already been suspicious of Lyra. She’d already seen what might happen between us even before I did, before it did actually happen.

“Gray?” she asks, my name sounding too sweet on her tongue. The next time she says it will taste bitter, I’m sure of it. She barely whispers the word but I hear her, it rings in my mind. It forever will.

I’m full of pure regret and guilt, it wracks my soul, shaking me relentlessly back and forth until I’m dizzy with it. Remorse’s doors suddenly burst wide open, ready for my grand entrance. My hopes and dreams snicker and smirk smugly as I walk down the runway, my head hanging in embarrassment.

I need to tell her. My heart races in my chest and there’s a lump stuck in my throat, so large it’s started to block my airways. I don’t know how to get the words out, I don’t know how to talk. I feel like I’m suffering some sort of aneurysm. She looks at me, her eyebrows pinched in and eyes narrowed and then I see it. Her eyebrows part and slowly sink. She knows already.

“Tell me,” she murmurs, her voice of an angel shaking.

I close my eyes, trying to suppress the tears. I haven’t cried in years I’ve forgotten this feeling, this heavy weighted agony that ripples through me causing water to infiltrate my eyes. I bite the inside of my cheek and still my shaking hands.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, an uninvited raw desperation ripping through my voice, “I never wanted to hurt you, I never meant for it to happen, I-“

“Tell me,” she grits through her teeth sharply, her eyes glitter so beautifully fierce and fiery, like she wants to kill.

But I know she’s trying to steady her rising sadness by covering up with her fury. I can see through her, like she can see through me. I freeze and the pause elongates. The aching silence is deadly, it’s fatal. I wish she didn’t have to make me say it.

“I kissed her,” I murmur, the words making me feel sick as I say them.

“Who?” she asks, he tone low and ferocious, “who did you kiss? I want to hear you say it.”

I’m twisting a knife into her heart and I know it. But she wants me to cut deeper. She’s a woman of principle, I’ve already hurt her, I might as well do the job properly in her eyes. And I can’t deny her this. Not I’ve stripped her of her dignity, her trust, her love, her everything.

“I kissed Lyra,” I whisper, suddenly aware of the dampness on my cheeks.

A sour taste fills my mouth. The words send lightning sparks across my jaw, sending ribbons of agony down the sides of my face. The truth hurts. Literally. Tears are rolling the side of my face, but I don’t bring my hand to wipe them and nor do I stop them. I’ve never felt more broken.

But she doesn’t care, there is not pity in her eyes. Good. I don’t want he to pity me. She should hate me. She should want me to miserable and hope for me to have a lifetime of the torture I’ve just forced her to endure.

“Get out,” she murmurs, the anger bringing out her natural stunning features. A flicker of boldness in her eyes, the striking angles of her eyebrows, her strong thick lashes and her full lips.

“I’m sorry.” they’re the only words I remember how to say, through my internal fit of torment.

I expect her to hit me around the face, a good strong punch I know she can make or a sharp smack that’ll leave a red hand mark pressed against my cheek. I imagine she might scream at me and ask me all the questions I wish I had answers to. But she does none of that. She only looks at me darkly and utters two last words.

“Leave Grayson.”

I can hear the tears she’s trying to hold back, through the numb façade. I know her better than she’ll ever realise. But it’s not fair for me to stay, not after this. She’s only asking one thing of me when she should be doing so much more. So I do. I turn my back on her again. And I leave.

***

Tears pummel down my cheeks like never before. I can’t remember the last time I cried. I don’t think I’ve ever cried like this. I’m blinded by them as I stumble sideways. I don’t know where I’m going. I stand on the edge of the cliff and sink to my knees, letting out a loud guttural scream. I’m there until my throat is so raw I can’t feel it. I bite my lip so hard it draws blood. And then I’m up again and running, following a path my footsteps are dragging me towards. I can’t think straight, I’m dizzy with pain. Before I know it I’m outside the safe house on the island. My hands tremor on the handle and I swing open the door, falling to the floor for my sobs to take me over. My chest aches and burns and tightens. That’s when I realise I can’t breathe properly. I fumble around for my phone, a tear splashing into the illuminated screen. With uncontrollably shaking hands, I typed no words. Just three numbers.

911

***

The wait feels like years, maybe even decades. Each second taunts me, with a mocking tick. I’d crumbled into the corner of the room at some point and stayed there, curled up and choking on my own sorry sobs. What had I done? What had I done? What had I done?

The question circles around my head like the nostalgia of a distorted tune of a merry go round. I’ve never made such a big mistake and my life and deep down there’s a sinking sensation that is telling me I’m not going to be able to make this better. I sob, loud harsh sobs that hurt my lungs and knock the air out of my stomach. My whole being shakes with every strangled noise that escapes my lips. Grieving. I’m grieving over something I chose to throw away. It’s cruelly ironic. But I think part of me is also grieving the good man I once thought myself to be, that she made me believe I could be.

I turned my back on the one and only person in this world who just cared about me, took me for who I am and believed I could do anything. She only wanted the best, she only wanted happiness and she deserved so much more and here I am, stabbing her in the back and dancing in her blood like a madman. She was my everything and I managed to mess it up, just like everything else in my life. I can’t have normal relationships, I can’t do something without messing it up. I’m one big screw up the opposite of how the old man raised me to be. He’s looking down on me now and I can feel his disappointment, like an infection coursing through my bloodstream. I failed him, I failed my brothers, I’ve failed her, I’ve failed myself.

She thought I was better, she believed I could be more than his expectation. And I was stupid enough to believe it, encourage it and let her belive the lie too. We’re all idiots.

I can recite her favourite song, her favourite flower, her favourite food and favourite colour. I can tell you all about her favourite novels and how she orders her books on an endless bookshelf. I know that she tells people her favourite film is ‘it’s a wonderful life’ but it’s actually secretly ‘tangled’. I know she prefers to stay inside and cuddle under blankets rather than have a night out. I know she’d rather reason a thousand books than watch a thousand movies. I know she wanted a library in her dream house and two, maybe three children with her husband and I know she’d sometimes debate about getting a cat as well. I know how she loves brownie batter more than the actual brownies and can’t sleep with any lights on. I know she still uses the bunny rhyme to tie her shoelaces and how she fiddles with her collarbone when she’s nervous. I know exactly what diamond she wanted in her engagement ring and her favourite country. I know what people she despises and I know what people she adores. I know every inch of her face, every hair on her head, every sparkle in her eyes and every cell on her skin.

I know her.

I know her, but that can’t help me now. Pain ripples across the left side of my chest and my hand clamps over it as I grit my teeth to try and bear it. I hear the door creek open and can’t tell whether it comforts me or not.

“Grayson pookie!” Xander calls out, “we’re here.”

His cheerful voice doesn’t provide me with the cushion to this pain I thought it might.

“And we have some in incredibly strong whisky,” Jameson adds, I can here the mischievous grin in his voice, it’s been the same all of his life.

“My nose hairs are officially burnt off,” Xander agrees.

I can’t speak. I try to call out for them but the words die in my swollen throat.

“Where are you Gray?” Nash calls out, he sounds a little more worried than the other two but is concealing it well.

“Here,” my voice is hoarse and laboured, even I can’t recognise it.

The mood immediately shifts, you can feel it. The air becomes tainted with concern as their footsteps approach my cowering figure. The case of whiskey is dropped as there is an audible thunk as it hits the floor. I can feel their bodies enveloping around mine creating something of a circle of safety. I look up to worried face and shiny eyes.

“Help me,” I gasp for air, greedily trying to gulp down the oxygen that I feel so deprived of, “please.”

“We’re here to help you Gray,” Nash murmurs softly. His voice had always been something comforting, especially when I was younger. I wonder if he will be so kind when I tell him what I’ve done. He’s going to hate me, there’s nothing he despises more than a man who can’t respect a woman.

I shake my head and choke out another struggling sob, instead of the words I don’t know how to say. Jameson’s eyes flit between mine and Nash’s, the concern rippling across his features. He’s never looked this concerned for me in his life. I think to all the times as children I’d helped him settle after a nightmare and wiped his tears that he hated falling when the old man had humiliated him. Oh how the tables had turned. Now it was my little brother wiping my tears.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his touch so gentle it shocks me.

“I can’t-“ I barely get out, wrapping my hands around my neck.

“Gray…” he trails off, unmasked emotion hitting his face like a train.

“I can’t breathe,” I wheeze as the invisible blanket that was set out to suffocate me tightens over my nose and mouth.

“Hey, Gray, look at me,” Nash says, his voice smooth and reassuring, “in and out okay, in and out.”

“I can’t,” I pant, my limbs shaking embarrassingly uncontrollably.

Xander takes both of my hands into his and squeezes them until they still, “yes you can, follow Nash’s instructions okay?”

“Slowly, do it with me,” Nash nods, “in through your nose and out through your mouth.”

I do. In and out, a rhythmic pattern. Each time Nash reminds me how to breathe. There’s an aura of calmness about his voice that lulls my panic into a narcoleptic sleep. Once my breathing is halfway regulated I look at him, dead in the eye, with shaking sorrowful lips.

“I fucked up,” I sob, “I fucked up and I don’t know what to do.”

They all share a look, this is the worst state they’ve seen me and we all know it. I begin to pathetically sob uncontrollably once again, the feelings building up in my chest and tearing me apart from the inside out. It’s like a rabid pack of wolves had been set loose to feed on my internal organs. I don’t know how to stop the ocean of tears, I don’t know how to shut my mind off, I don’t know how to help myself. Reel myself in from this abominable mess I’ve become. I’m hyperventilating, my chest throbbing up and down unevenly. Nash nods towards Jameson, a short, soft, sharp nod of approval.

“Hey! Calm down!” Jameson snaps, giving me a hard slap around the face, “snap out of this!”

The shock shuts me up and the sting stops my tears. I’m back to reality instead of a wallowing mess. Nash must’ve been approving the slap I realise in the sudden cleared head I’d obtained

“Sorry,” Jameson mumbles at me, looking a little guilty.

I massage my jaw, “no I think I needed that.”

He grimaces and then softens his tone, “what happened Gray?”

I tense, growing very still, “I can’t say it out loud, I can’t, I’m awful, I’m horrible-“

“What happened?” Nash drawls.

I choke out yet another unnatural sound. Seems the slap didn’t snap me hard enough into reality. I exhale slowly. I have to say it, now or never.

“I kissed Lyra.”

The words hurt even more this time, that they did when I’d admitted it to y/n. Neither one of my brothers can mask their honest reaction.

“Oh fuck,” Jameson blurts out, “you cheated?”

Anger. He’s fuming with me. I can see the rage trailing through his eyes and blossoming into his expression.

“I didn’t mean to,” I reply, feeling like a small child.

Jameson’s eyes widen and fury flashes across his face, “how can you not mean-“

Nash shoots him a look and his mouth glues shut. Then he turns to me and I can’t quite read him yet. I gulp.

“No one does that kind of thing for no reason,” he says sternly, “I never thought you’d be the one of the four of us to ever do that, seems I was mistaken little brother.”

Disappointment. He’s disappointed. A horrible sinking feeling settles in my stomach. Nash is disappointed in me. It’s one of the worst feelings imaginable. There had only been few times in my life when he had been and I remember the feeling all too well. Shame has me in a chokehold an it’s succeeding in strangling me. I can‘t bring myself to meet his eyes, I don’t want to see that look I can feel is on his face, that look of pure disapproval.

“How did she find out?” Xander asks quietly.

Shock. He hadn’t said anything until now, but his lips had been slightly parted and he’d paled a little. He never thought I’d do this to anyone, he’s yet another person I’ve let down.

“I told her,” I murmur, “the guilt was consuming me.”

“As it should,” Jameson snaps, twitching with a fiery ferocity.

“Jamie,” Nash says, trying to keep some kind of diplomacy.

“No,” he growls, “you don’t do that to a girl, your girl, you can’t do that!”

“Don’t take the moral highground now,” I spit.

“When you’ve cheated on your girlfirend? Yeah I think I will,” he replies, the bitterness rolling off of his tongue like a deadly poison. He doesn’t know I’ve already poisoned myself with my own actions, his words can’t hurt me.

“I didn’t mean to,” I falter.

“Bullshit,” he grits through his teeth, in two definitive and threatening symbols.

“Careful Jamie,” Nash warns.

“All this is your fault anyway,” I continue, ignoring the warning.

“So it’s my fault, you kissed another girl, yeah, okay Gray,” he nods his head with a sarcastic smile.

“It is!” I exclaim, throwing my hands in the air, “if you hadn’t locked me in a room with her-“

“So it’s my fault you couldn’t keep up dick under control,” he quips, interrupting me.

“You could’ve locked me with my one of my sisters but of course you just had choose the only girl who isn’t related to me,” I seethe.

“Odette isnt related to you,” Xander pipes up. I’d forgotten he was there, that anyone besides me and Jameson were there.

“Odette is old enough to be my grandmother,” I scowl at him, immediately feeling bad as the words leave my lips, but don’t dwell on it as I turn back to Jameson, “why did you make me a player in your sick excuse of a game?”

“You can’t use the game as an excuse,” he laughs darkly.

“I will,” I reply sharply, “this is your fault and Avery’s fault too.”

“Avery? Don’t make me laugh,” he rolls his eyes.

“The game never should’ve been created by her,” I yell, “that’s why I’m in this mess!”

“No, you’re in this mess because of you,” he shouts back, “but don’t you dare bring Avery in to this it’s not her fault.”

I feel like I’m one of those circus acts, the ones that lay on a spinning board and get knives hurled at them. Only in my case the knives are the truth and they actually hit me.

“Why did you make me a player?” I ask quieter now, my voice hoarse, “why?”

“I didn’t know making you a player would result in this,” he says.

“It was so irreverent,” I snap becoming angrier by the second, a sudden burst of red overriding any rational sense in my head, “I never needed to play.”

“You can’t pin this on me Gray, if it didn’t happen with Lyra, who knows who else it would’ve happened with,” he hisses.

“So you think I’m just like this? You think this is me?” I ask him, prodding the hollow space where my heart used to be.

“I didn’t before….” he trails off, sighing, “but now I don’t know what the fucking think of you.”

“Jamie,” Nash repeats again, in the same warning tone as before. We both ignore him.

“Just because you and Avery are all peaches and roses-“

“Leave Avery out of your anger issues,” he roars defensively.

“No,” I counter, raising an eyebrow, mirroring his usual argument demeanour, “you think you’re so perfect now you’ve got your dream girl and the two of you are so much better off than the rest of us, because your love is undeniable or whatever bullshit people feed you about it-“

Jameson’s features twitch for a split second. He’s hurt, but won’t show it. He’ll refuse but I know that it hit a nerve that won’t heal for a long time. I stop mid-sentence.

“I am far from perfect, I think we both know that,” he says, in a low voice, “look you’re hurting, I get it, but I’m not going to mollycoddle you and tell you it’s okay when it’s not. I’m not going to stand here and lie to your face because as your brother that would be the worst possible thing for me to do to you.”

“My brother would try and understand what it’s like from my side,” I say, desperation clawing at my voice.

“You’re looking for a fight Grayson and it’s not going to end well, not with me,” he warns, shaking his head.

“Maybe I do want a fight, but you know you do too,” I growl rolling up my sleeves, “so fine, I’ll give you a fight Jamie.”

“I don’t want a fight, I want some justice for y/n,” he states simply, “she did nothing to deserve that Gray, she’s been so good to you, the sweetest soul on this earth and she’s helped you through a lot of shit and this is how you’re repaying her?”

“Jameson,” Nash says.

He ignores him for the third time and I can see his calm facade beginning to drop, “you think because you called a 911 and you’re here crying that I should feel sorry for you?”

“I thought you were going to be here for me,” I reply numbly, my tone dead, “clearly I’m mistaken.”

“I can’t be there for someone with no morals,” he replies, “you cheated and you’re the one who’s upset about it, how do you think she feels?”

“You think I don’t know her?” I fire back, my throat burning, “you think I don’t know exactly what she’s doing right now? I hate myself, I hate myself for doing what I did!”

“Good you should!” he screams back.

Before I know it I feel myself charges towards him, ready to throw a good punch but Nash and Xander launch onto me to quickly and managing to hold me back. Nash’s grip is so tight I don’t dare try and budge.

“Out. Now.” Nash says sharply to Jameson, “go and cool off.”

His tone sends a shiver down my spine that I won’t admit to. Jameson opens his mouth to argue.

“Jameson.”

He skulks away, with a sullen face. We all wait frozen until the door has been slammed shut. Nash lets my arm go, dropping it harshly and Xander follows suit.

“And you’re no better,” he turns to me, placing his cowboy hat on a nearby surface, “I’m only sending him away because you can’t be left alone in this mess and so the two of you don’t rip each other to pieces.”

Silence stills the room. His voice echoes but makes no sound all at the same time.

“Take a second, take a breath and we’re going to talk this through like adults,” he says, “if you want to carry on being a child then leave. Calm down, you’re not a toddler having a tantrum, you’re a grown man, act like it.”

Nash has a way of snapping me back to reality. I nod shakily.

“Talk.”

I begin, “I don’t even know why I kissed her, I didn’t mean to it just-“

“Happened?” he guesses, “no little brother, that doesn’t just happen.”

“The I don’t know Nash,” I say, tipping my head back and resting it on the wall behind me.

I hadn’t meant for it to happen. I didn’t want it to happen. It just did. She was there, just stood there. Her hands looped naturally around the back of my neck, warm and gentle, “someone sent me that ticket Grayson. I thought it was Avery but if it wasn’t…”

She trails off, her voice small and tentative. Her golden eyes filled with the utmost worry. I wanted her to know she’d be okay, that she’d have someone to keep her safe. Her arms get more comfortable around my neck. She’d felt it too, the electrifying spark between us. It was exhilarating but something about it was off, synthetic.

“Then who the hell was it?” I questioned, my hands magnetised to her cheek all of a sudden.

Lyra didn’t pull away and neither did I. I lower my head and she raised onto her toes and titled hers back a little. She was graceful, like a dancer. My lips brushed over hers. They were sweet like honey. For the first few moments it was bliss and the realisation hit, like a stone to my stomach. I jerked backwards suddenly, shaking my head.

“I can’t do this,” I said, my fingers trying to wipe her taste off of my lips, “I don’t- this isn’t-“

I was tongue-tied, not able to explain to her how wrong it was. The words wouldn’t work the way I wanted them to.

“Gray?” Lyra murmurs, a tender voice. Her amber eyes are widened and slightly confused.

“No,” I yell. She flinches and another wave of horribly strong emotion rushes over me, drowning me. “No I’m in love with someone else. I don’t know what that was. I can’t-“

I stumbled backward a few steps and the turned around and ran. Like the coward that I am.

“It did just happen,” I murmur, lifting my head from the wall to look my older brother in eye, “I swear to god, I didn’t intend for it to happen, I didn’t even know I had feelings for her.”

I can see he disagrees still and isn’t convinced. I don’t know how to prove it to him.

“Let’s establish one thing here, who do you like?” Xander asks me.

“I like Lyra,” I say slowly, “but I love y/n.”

Nash shakes his head, “if you loved her you wouldn’t have done that.”

“I made a mistake,” I press on.

“And you will pay for it and regret it for the rest of your life,” he shrugs, “it’s not what you wanted to hear but it’s the truth. Listen, I love Libby and loving someone means so many things. One of those things is that I don’t even look at other women, to me they don’t even really exist. Libby is my world and no one else even comes into the equation, so the fact is someone else came into the equation for you, meaning the love wasn’t there.”

“But it was, I felt it,” I say, my voice breaking as I press my chest.

“What do you feel for Lyra?” he asks plainly.

“I don’t know, she’s intriguing and smart and beautiful,” I murmur, “and I like her, but I don’t know if I have romantic feelings for her.”

“Then why did you kiss her?”

“Comfort? Lust? Greed? Selfishness? I don’t know it just happened,” I repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Stop using that phrase as a get out clause,” Nash shakes his head, “you have to admit to yourself more than anyone that this didn’t just happen.”

“I leaned in and I put my lips of hers, and I didn’t stop it, it didn’t feel wrong straight away,” I admit out loud finally.

“It didn’t?” Xander says, looking wounded.

“No, it didn’t feel wrong until I realised what I’d done,” I say, looking down, suddenly finding my shoelaces to be the most interesting thing in the world.

No one replies for a long while. That’s when I realise how exhausted I truly am and how much I crave sleep.

“I vouched for you,” Xander says quietly, “I told her that you’d never do that, that you weren’t that guy.”

“I’m not,” I say, in denial at first. I take a moment to analyse his sentence and then come to a sickening realisation, “oh my god I am…”

“She was already anxious about where your loyalties were Gray,” he winces.

“I proved her right, I proved every worry she had right, I just proved to her that she shouldn’t have trusted me,” I spiral, hating that I hadn’t seen it sooner.

Xander looks to Nash for support for a reply.

“Yeah,” Nash sighs, “you did.”

“I need to fix this, there has to be a way-“

“Grayson,” the acuteness of his voice cuts through my sentence like a machete.

I freeze and clamp my mouth firmly shut.

“This isn’t a broken vase, you can’t glue it back together or buy a new one,” he tells me softly.

He was referring to a time where Jameson and I had been seven and eights years old. We’d been brawling of course, Hawthorne style and accidentally smashed a vase. Usually it wouldn’t matter, there were vases all over Hawthorne House and they were smashed frequently. But this wasn’t just any vase. It was nan’s priceless vase that had belonged to her daughter, our grandmother, Alice. We were never allowed within a five mile radius of it, but like the rebellious children we were, we didn’t listen. Through our fight we’d smashed the whole thing, it was truly destroyed. The two of us stayed up for nights on need gluing together the pieces only to realise it was never going to look like the original again. So we’d hunted to buy another, problem was, this vase was one of a kind. It turned out after four weeks or trying to ship a similar one in that nan had known the whole time. She didn’t speak to either of us for a good few months.

“This is real life, she is a real person and you hurt her,” he explains, “fixing this isn’t an option. There isn’t a way to fix it, there are no pieces to our back together, okay?”

I’m silent but it’s the loudest voice in the room. My face pinches together in agony. For the first time, a little of the disappointment fades and my brother’s face softens. He wraps a strong arm around me and I flop into him like a lifeless bag of nothingness. I bury my head into his shoulder and try to cry but there seems to be no tears left. He understands and holds me for a moment. Suddenly I’m six years old again and crying in Nash’s in my arms over Jameson hiding my favourite teddy bear at the time, then I’m eleven in his arms with pneumonia after being stupid enough to get caught in the rapids un the dead of winter wanting a good photograph of a rare fish, then I’m seventeen, crying over a redheaded girl who I thought I’d managed to murder. And now here I am, at twenty-two years old in his grasp once again, having made the greatest mistake of my life.

Suddenly I feel another set of arms wrap around the both of us.

“Group hug!” a familiar voice sings.

Leave it to Xander to make me crack a half smile in the darkest moments I’ve ever experienced. After a while I pull away and sigh.

“Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” I ask, pulling away.

“Honestly?” Xander asks.

I nod

“No,” he says. I wish I could see that little glimmer of a lie in his eyes, but I can’t. And it kills me.

“Think about it like this,” he sighs, “would you forgive Eve for what she did?”

“This is not the same thing,” I reply coldly.

“Eve cheated your trust, she betrayed you,” he explains gently, “that’s exactly how she feels.”

Dread fills my every pore as I murmur lifelessly, “I’m as bad as Eve.”

“No wait,” he says, looking guilty and panicked all at the same time, “that’s not what I meant!”

“I know,” I reassure him so some of his guilt subsides, “but it’s true and now I’ve just realised.”

“Look Gray, you aren’t Eve. You’re never going to be Eve, but think of how you felt then. That’s how y/n feels,” Nash soothes, “she’s not going to just forgive you, that’s not how it works.”

“You just broke her heart Gray,” Xander adds, careful to keep his tone as light as a feather, “for a girl you just met.”

“Why am I horrible person? Why do I always find a way to mess to something good?” I groan, smacking my head on the wall behind me. There’s an audible thump as pain spreads through the back of my skull. I wonder if I can concuss myself to forget all of this, but I don’t attempt the idea.

“You don’t-“

“No I do,” I say firmly, cutting him off, “I’m not meant for love, to love or to be loved, I’m not built for it. I’m not a good enough person for it. I’m never going to find my Libby or my Max or my Avery.“

“Grayson-“ Nash begins.

“Emily knew it and now so does y/n,” I snap.

My brothers still at her name, not moving a muscle. I never bring up Emily.

“Listen to me,” Nash says sharply, getting my attention, “you are meant to be loved. You are meant to love. I love you, Xander loves you, Jameson loves you and y/n loved you too…”

The change of tense makes my soul ache.

“…but this time around, you made a mistake, a costly mistake. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love.”

I nod numbly, robotically.

“What can I do to make it up to her?” I ask, my voice beginning to tremble, “to show her I’m sorry? Something there has to be something.”

Nash gives me a grim look and Xander’s face remains blank, they’re the only answers I need. My head sinks into my hands. The door reopens and I look back up. Jameson has returned.

He meets my eyes, “Avery’s with her.”

Blood surges through my heart and I can almost smile. He checked on her. For me.

“Is she okay?” I ask quickly.

Jameson looks at me and for a split second I almost see the ghost concern is his eyes. He shakes his head softly, “no, but she will be,” he replies, it’s an attempt to comfort me and I am grateful.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

“I’m not apologising for what I said, because I still stand by it and you won’t change my mind,” Jameson says, “but I am sorry for being so angry about it.”

“You were right,” I whisper, “you were right about me. I never deserved her, so was nothing but an angel to me and I just turned around and threw it all away. I abused the luxury I had, I stabbed her in the back and then gifted another with the knife, I’m a horrible person.”

“What you did was wrong, but that’s doesn’t make you a horrible person,” he sighs, “you need time Gray, this is going to take a lot of healing. On both sides.”

“I don’t deserve to heal, I deserve to be in pain,” I murmur, the dullness in my tone echos around the empty walls.

“Oh no, we’re not going back to emo Grayson,” Xander says quickly, shaking his head.

“I agree with Xander on this one,” Nash nods, readjusting his cowboy hat.

“I don’t want to hear you blasting my chemical romance at three a.m and then denying it later again, you came out of that phase we’re not going back there,” Jameson tells me.

I bark out a laugh that thaws my icy chest. I then bite the inside of my cheek.

“I can’t fix this, can I?” I say, looking at the ground,

Nash shakes his head softly.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t be fixed,” Xander says.

“You’ll get through this Gray,” Jamie agrees, “I know it.”

The room grows still.

“Can we drink that whiskey now?” I ask, to cut through the silence. I feel like getting drunk, I feel like I need some relief.

“Big brother,” Xander nods at Nash handing him the bottle.

“Little brother,” he tips his cowboy hat in reply before taking the bottle into his hands and cracking it open.

“Let me pour these things properly,” Nash grins, “Jamie, come help.”

“Wait me too!” Xander jumps up,

“Stay with Gray,” he shakes his head.

“I don’t need to be babysat,” I grumble, annoyance written all over my face.

“I want to watch them pour whiskey properly,” Xander explains, “so I can impress Max.”

My eyebrows fly to my forehead, “Max drinks?”

“No I want to impress her though,” he grins.

‘You’re an odd human,” I almost laugh, tilting my head to the side.

“Why ta very much!” he says, almost skipping away.

Once I know they’re all gone, I lean back on the wall, my heart feeling a tiny bit less heavy. The pain isn’t gone. I think I’ve just gone numb. I feel hollow, empty, nothingness. Guilt is still gnawing at my insides but slower. A satifying clink against the fragile rim of the glass takes me out of my own head for a split second. There are hushed voices from the kitchen, I notice. I walk over to the door that lay ajar, I lean in to listen.

“We need to tell him,” it sounds like Jameson.

“Not now,” the accent indicates Nash.

“Then when?” Xander’s voice asks, “how long can we prolong it.”

“I can hear you,” I tell them, raising my voice a little.

They turn to face me, awkwardly remaining silent. The expressions on their faces don’t offer me comfort.

“Whatever it is, spit it out,” I say, “it’s not like tonight could get any worse.”

They share a look. Apparently it can. I feel sick to my stomach.

I can barely breathe, “who died?”

“No one has died,” Xander says quickly, “yet.”

“What?” I say, my tone deadly,

Nash glares at him, then turns back to me. There’s sorrow laced delicately, deep within his hazel irises.

“Gray,” he says gently, “Gray we hate to do this but…”

“What? What is it?” I ask urgently.

“Gigi’s missing.”

The words shock me to my core. I feel my throat begin the close up as panic returns with a smirk and triumphant greeting. My whole world has collapsed in less than 24 hours.

***

YOUR POV

I don’t hate him. Call me naive or call me stupid. But I don’t. I don’t think I ever could. The kind of love I have for him is unconditional, irrevocable. Time can’t heal a wound this deep and although it is still fresh now, I can tell. But if he were to say sorry I think I would forgive him every time. And if he asked me back I’d fall into his arms into an instant. And I hate myself for it, it’s stupid and it’s a little cruel. How easily I would take him back after what he did. I know I shouldn’t but something inside of me is drawn to him. Like an invisible magnet has been planted in our hearts. I wish I didn’t love so hard, fall so deeply, maybe I wouldn’t get hurt so badly. But it’s in my nature, it’s who I am. I wonder if he knows how much pain I’m in, the rippling agony that rolls across my chest relentlessly with no hint as to when it will cease. I’m tired of being the second choice but unfortunately I wouldn’t mind being his. And I know it’s completely stupid of me to think that way, completely wrong but love makes you do stupid things so they say. I sit on the beach, by the sea in a state of numbness. Silent tears roll down my tears as the waves lap my feet. Deja vu washes over me and the memories of Grayson and I the night of the game flash through my mind.

I grip his hand and run with him as he guides me the just beyond the shore. He sits down swiftly on the sand and pulls me down to sit between his legs. I lean my back onto his chest and let him nuzzle his face into my collarbone.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing my neck, “only you.”

Only me, huh? Only me…

The waves crash against the rocks, hurtling a salty spray towards me. I hear footsteps and turn around. Avery stands there, a mournful expression over her delicate face. She knows. I stumble towards her and collapse into her arms in a fit of uncontrollable sobs now and she holds me. Her touch is gentle and warm but it’s nothing compared to his. I realise he might never hold me in his arms again and I cry even harder.

***

I don’t hold Lyra accountable. She is not to blame. Some girls in my position might dream about different ways to brutally murder her but I can only ask what comfort would it bring me? My feelings are already dead, what good is more pain doing?

There was a choice that Grayson Hawthorne was given: his dancer or his angel. He chose his dancer and I hope he’s happy. Because angels have wings and we rise up stronger.

idk guys I think I wrote Grayson’s POV really awfully to be honest… also I feel like the 911 meet up was not like their normal ones where they try and like do something (e.g drink or dare) and then talk about the pain but that’s bc Grayson was in such a mess and then they had to drop the bomb that Gigi was missing. so anywayyyss…

I am sorry this took so long and I hope it lived up to any expectation you wanted it too (sorry if it didn’t) and I hope you enjoyed 🤍🤍 thanks for reading as always

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ladykailitha · 4 months ago

Text

Sir Steve, Knight Protectorate Part 2

I am absolutely thrilled with how well the first chapter did. Thank you everyone for your support. If you requested to be on the tag list and aren't that means I ran out of room and so so sorry.

You can follow me or the tag #knight protectorate au, as that is the tag I will be using for the series I do with this verse. I hope that helps!

Here we get Steve to the rescue and Eddie instantly heart-eyes. Poor Jeff.

Part 1

Steve was getting more push back then he thought he would, but at the same time it was from the people he was expecting.

“Admit it,” Carol said, “you know I’m right. The only reason Tammy is involved in any thing music related is because Mummy Dearest is paying for it all. Her singing is horrible.”

Steve tried to hide his smile, but he really couldn’t.

“See?” she shrieked in glee. “I just don’t know why you won’t let me tell her. Someone needs to before she gets into her head she’s going to be famous or some shit.”

“Because it wouldn’t do anything but make her mad,” he reasoned. “Then she’d tell her mom, and her mom would tell your mom and your mom would ground your ass because they are in the same golfing club or some shit.”

Carol blinked at him for a moment or two and then shrugged. “Yeah, all right. You have a point. But I can still mock her behind her back, right?”

Steve threw back his head and laughed.

“Just keep it between us, yeah?”

She tilted her head to the side and then shrugged. “I guess I could do that.”

He heaved a sigh of relief and was just grateful for the smallest concession she was willing to make.

Everyone knew Carol was still saying shit, but at least she was only saying it to Steve.

“God, Abby,” Nicole whined, “where did you get that dress the trash bin behind Melvand’s?” She laughed as Abby tugged on her the hem of her denim dress. It was wrinkled in that way denim will some times get when it’s put into shapes it wasn’t meant for.

“Fuck off, Nicole,” Steve barked. “You have a dress just like it, it’s just Levi instead of some off brand.”

Nicole’s jaw dropped and whirled on Steve. “Is this the thanks I get for finding that little creep for you?”

Steve raised his eyebrow in disdain. “Helping a guy out doesn’t mean you get to shit on everyone else. She isn’t hurting you. She’s just walking in the hall. And for fuck’s sake, she’s a freshman. We’re all gross at that age. Give it up.”

Nicole’s jaw clicked shut and she turned on her heel, running away. The gathered crowd laughed at her retreating form.

“It’s not funny, assholes,” he huffed. “Laughing at Abby being bullied is the same as laughing at Nicole getting told off for it. It’s still rude.”

The hall went deathly quiet.

Tommy came bounding up to Steve and Carol. “Larry Wiggins just got laid out by Munson trying to hassle him out of some dope.”

Steve grimaced. “Everyone knows that Munson doesn’t sell anything hard on school property. He likes avoiding felony charges.”

Tommy grinned, bouncing on the pads of his toes. “That’s what makes it so hilarious. Munson doesn’t even deal on Tuesdays so he didn’t even have weed to offer him to back off.”

“So Larry takes a swing at Munson and gets flattened for it?” Steve guessed with a heavy sigh.

“Yup!”

Carol giggled as Steve sighed again.

“One of these days a football player is going to knock that guy’s pearly whites out,” he said, shaking his head.

“Oohhh...” Tommy said wincing, pulling his arms up to his chest. “That would be ug-lee!”

Steve hummed his agreement.

Look, despite what Eddie’s teachers thought, he wasn’t stupid. After the incident with Wiggins on the basketball team, he had refused to do deals alone.

But then meathead jocks barely used their brains to drool, like alone think.

Eddie was on his way to his picnic table where Doug had been waiting for him when this football player came out of literal nowhere to slam him against a tree.

Eddie’s head swam as he tried to squeeze away his sudden double vision. “What the fuck, man?”

When he could see the captain of the football team, Bobby Vincent, was grabbing him by the collar and shoving him up against the tree.

Bobby pulled out a nearly empty baggie of weed. “You shorted me, asshole. You call this a gram?”

“It was when I sold it to you,” Eddie insisted, hands coming up to grab Bobby’s hand at his throat. “I don’t short. It’s bad for business.” He certainly didn’t short people who throw him around like a rag doll for crying out loud. He didn’t have a death wish.

“You’re going to give me a replacement for free,” Bobby sneered, “aren’t you, pretty boy?”

Eddie tried to yank on the football player’s hand to get him to release him, but the white knuckle grip refused to budge. “I can’t give you shit, man. My supplier would kill me. I’ve got more to think about then just one customer.”

He could see the punch coming and knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. He closed his eyes against the pain he knew was coming.

But the pain never came. He peeked out of one eye and was shocked to see Steve Harrington holding meathead’s wrist. They were both stock still. Which Eddie couldn’t figure it out, he had to open his other eye to see the full tableau in front of him.

Steve had a grip on Bobby’s wrist, that was certainly true, but that wasn’t what had the football player by the short and curlies. Oh no. In Steve’s other hand was a small but very deadly pocket knife. A knife that was current pressed to the ribs on the side of the raised arm. Suddenly Eddie was feeling weak in the knees for a very different reason.

“Hey, Bobby,” Steve said cheerfully, “you weren’t going to hit someone because you’re too shit poor to buy your own weed, were you?”

Bobby looked down at the knife in Steve’s hands and then back up at his face. Bobby snarled and moved to wrench his hand out of Steve’s grasp, but the blade dug deeper. He stopped again and looked over at Eddie who was just as shocked he was at the whole thing.

Like where the fuck did Steve get that knife and why was he carrying it in the first place?

“You going to stick up for this trash, Harrington?” Bobby hissed. “Wheeler made you soft.”

Eddie and Steve both look down at the knife in Steve’s hand and then back up at the football player.

“Just because I’ve been putting my foot down more on the bullying lately,” Steve said, pressing the knife a little further causing Bobby to wince, “doesn’t mean that this is new. I’ve always called you assholes out on it, but now I’m doing something about it. So why don’t you run along and tell all your friends that the king has returned.”

Bobby’s eyes went wide and he nodded. Steve released the wrist first and then stepped back. He waved the knife, indicating Bobby should get a move on and he did. He ran like hell.

“Marry me!” Eddie squeaked as his knees buckled in relief.

Steve dropped the knife and surged forward to catch him before he hit the ground. Just then Jeff showed up and stared at them for a moment.

“Uhh...” he muttered. “Did I miss something?” His tongue worried one of the brackets on his braces as both Eddie and Steve turned to him.

Steve turned a bright shade of red when he realized how this might look to someone else. He helped Eddie get his feet under him and then took a step back. He ran his fingers through his hair and side-eyed Eddie.

“Maybe ask a guy on a date first, yeah?” he murmured before taking off, scooping up the knife up on his way out. Leaving behind two very confused metalheads in his wake.

Well, one confused metalhead and one confused and horny metalhead.

Jeff turned to Eddie. “You want to tell me what the fuck that was about?” He jutted his thumb at the space in the trees that Steve had vanished into.

So Eddie told him.

“And um... I didn’t get my ass beat so...our King is some flavor of queer?” He meant that as a statement, but it came out as more of a question, because holy fuck that was crazy to think about.

Jeff looked at him for a long moment. “I understand you are currently having a gay panic right now, but um...shouldn’t you be more concerned with the fact that he had that knife on him in the first place? Because seriously, does Steve Harrington seem the type to be carrying around any kind of weapon?”

Eddie blinked a couple of times before he turned to look down the path both jocks had taken with a tinge more fear then he had before.

“That is a fair question, Sir Jeffrey,” he agreed. “But as it has saved this lowly jester’s ass, let’s give our king a pass, shall we?”

Jeff licked his lips slowly and then nodded. Because whatever happened to Steve that frightened him enough to start carrying a knife to school with him, he would much rather not know.

News spread fast. Steve Harrington was not to be trifled with and if you were caught bullying, he would make it his problem.

The faculty noticed, because how could they not. When someone makes it their one man mission to make the school safe for everyone, it wasn’t hard to see the changes wrought.

Only soon it wasn’t just Steve. The group that had included Nicole, Tina, Carol, and Tommy H. who were once the worst of the worst would patrol the halls between classes.

Eddie and his band of Freaks and Nerds were more than a little shocked when they were included in the protection. Because let’s face it, even other marginalized groups tended to push him and his friends around.

Well they tried. A couple of well aimed punches and threats of not selling to them or their friends usually got them to back off. But this was real protection, not just a cat puffing up his fur to look bigger and meaner than he was.

Hawkins High had an honest to Satan knight protectorate. Fuck.

Eddie thought those were only existed in fantasy novels and D&D campaigns. And if there was a gang of knights errant in Eddie’s next campaign with the names, Thom, Stephan, Nicolette, Caroline, and Christina, that was between him and the members of the Hellfire Club and no one else.

He thought he was going to catch shit for that from his friends, but apparently Sir Steve had won over their hearts as well.

However it was only a matter of time before the bullies got creative. Because some people just like to torture they find inferior.

They would hip check their targets into the lockers, always with a “Whoops!” and a sneer. They would knock their shoulders into them with a “Watch it!” and a smirk. They would whack books and lunch trays out their hands with a “Sorry...” and a grin.

Steve’s merry band would always check on the victim, but they really couldn’t say shit, because it could have been an accident. Though really, they weren’t fooling anyone but the teachers.

Eddie could see it coming to a head sooner rather than later and god, he hoped he got to witness it first hand.

Part 3

Tag List: CLOSED

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @gringa-rae-jepsen @bluelightsinthevoid @mamafaithful @allmyworldsendwithtears @xxbottlecapx

10- @sadisticaltarts @yeahhhh-suga @ohimamarigold @imamixofeverthing @samsoble

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #knight protectorate au #season 1 au

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sleepymarimo · 2 months ago

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toji x reader x shiu // sfw, mostly comedy tbh, something short and sweet // can be viewed as platonic or romantic! // reader works with shiu and toji. reader can be an assassin, an infomant, anything :)

late night stakeouts with 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐔 and 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 are not for the fainthearted.

the car is always much too small, with your shoulders brushing against both of theirs. shiu is the driver, always, while toji claims the passenger seat without asking. parked on an abandoned road, hidden by some brush and trees, the car is turned off and the three of you just... wait.

truth be told, the first few hours aren't so bad since it's when you're all the most active and awake, ready to collect information.

after around the four hour mark though, things get... irritating. there hasn't been any activity within the mansion you've been designated to observe. all the lights are off, there are no cars in the driveway, even the wind seems to be nonexistent.

"I don't think you need three people for this," you'd tell shiu, who shrugs and toys with an unlit cigarette, unable to light it as the cherry red end would stand out in the dark of night.

the broker pretends to care, checks his watch, then rolls his eyes as he notices toji finishing a bag of shrimp chips that was supposed to last another couple of hours. "fushiguro wouldn't come unless you did. be grateful that you're the only one he works with."

toji crushes the plastic bag in his hands, the crinkling sounds almost a boom in the quiet car. "y'full of crap," he says, tossing the bag to the backseat and getting cozy, his arm resting behind you, legs comfortably spread. "I said it would be less borning"-

"so I'm here for no reason?" you deadpan, grunting as you push your thigh into his, attempt to reclaim your legspace, but it's like trying to move a wall. and he only smirks, that brute.

the ensuing round of bickering has shiu rubbing the bridge of his nose, pondering a career change.

and, of course, still no action from the house.

sleep is foreign to all of you. it's more of a light doze, really, with at least two people awake at all times. it's early, early in the morning when you take your chance to rest, leaning against shiu's shoulder. his expensive scent clashes with the hints of tobacco that makes your nose twitch. it’s been around fifteen minutes, you might actually fall asleep, then…

“my turn.”

the wind is knocked out of you as toji practically yanks you to his chest, his actions born of either mild envy or a desire to have something warm to cling to- he won’t admit to either.

your head is still heavy and you click your tongue, wriggling in protest, slightly irate. “m’not a rag doll, toji, seriously. what’s the matter with you?”

shiu stretches, rubbing at his shoulder, the spot your head was resting on. “do you want a list?” comes his dry joke, quelled by his tiredness.

“funny,” toji retorts, tightening his hold on you, leaning back and resting his forehead against the window.

the next two hours are terrible. no more snacks, no more coffee, and no movement whatsoever from the mansion.

and, of course, you figure out why. toji had put in the wrong address, with the correct location being a good few hours away.

you could just cry. “shiu, you’ve gotta stop assigning me with him, please,” you plead, on the brink of sleep.

“trust me, I think I might cut him out too,” the broker responds, starting the car and finally lighting the cigarette he’d been waiting ages for.

toji pouts and looks away, that soft pursing of his lips making you momentarily want ruffle his hair, then he grumbles. “how was I supposed to know that there’s a difference between lane and drive? they’re streets.”

“of course there’s a difference,” you protest, lightly poking his head. “just like there’s a difference between avenues and boulevards, pea brain.”

there’s no point in even going to the right location anymore. shiu would probably just meet with the client tomorrow, come up with some excuse and lay on the charm.

tonight the three of you just drive to the first dingy motel you find, which of course only has one king sized bed available.

when it rains it pours, apparently.

for the second time, you’re demoted to the middle, squished between the two men and fighting for space and blankets.

still, you all end up knocking out, just wanting this day to be over.

#toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #shiu x reader #shiu x you #shiu x y/n #toji fluff #shiu fluff #jjk fluff #I want to be in their lil group so bad 😣#take me on adventures I beg #I can be comedic relief or nurse or whatever pls

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restinslices · 2 months ago

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So that Sektor trailer came out and I’m specifically hooked on more info we got about what happens to Bi-Han when he goes after Havik. There’s a line that Sektor says to Bi-Han: “Bi-Han, can you hear me?” I NEED SOME BI-HAN X READER BASED OFF OF THAT LINE ALONE- you can do whatever you want with it I just thought that would be a cool prompt

Hey anon! For some reason this prompt made me think of the song “Once Upon A Dream”, so here we are.

Bi-Han X GN!Reader

Word Count: 3287

Summary: Using your power to jump into other’s dreams, you jump into Bi-Han’s in hopes of speaking with him. Unfortunately for you, things don’t go as you wanted it to.

Content Warning: Angst, hurt w/ no comfort, Bi-Han fighting demons and them mfs got hands, mean Bi-Han, I wrote this while downing a energy drink

“I know you

I walked with you once upon a dream

I know you

That look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam”

Dreams were a powerful and interesting concept. You always thought so, but perhaps that made sense for someone like you - someone who could manipulate dreams and bend them to your will.

You had seen first hand how dreams could affect someone’s day. A bad one could cause someone to be cranky in the morning, a good one made them awake with a smile, a dream about a lost loved one caused tears to pool in one's eyes. The list went on and on.

Dreams were where people could escape their day to day lives. You were no different. Life had been less than ideal as of late, causing you to look forward to sleeping more than you used to. You wished everyday that you weren’t like this, that you could be happy when you were awake. You tried. You tried so hard, but life was too quiet. There was someone missing. Someone you couldn’t have.

Your longing for him only got worse after your recent encounter with Titan Havik and his ridiculous dreams of chaos.

Him.

Seeing him after his betrayal… seeing him in such a hateful manner at his own brother’s wedding… then what Havik did to him…

Him.

Why was thinking his name so painful?

And why were you trying to connect with him like you used to?

Around you was a dull void. No walls, no solid ground, nothing physical. Just a blackness with an unknown light source coming from above, highlighting your frame. Your body hung in this void. Was this the right choice? Maybe you should just abandon this idea and actually dream.

“Bi-Han, can you hear me?”

Under normal circumstances, Bi–Han would respond to your telepathic message.

“Yes” he’d say back to you.

Such a simple word, yet you were missing it desperately. There was no response. You’d have to check if he was asleep your own way then.

You closed your eyes and pictured the outline of his body. He had no facial features or any details to him. The inside of his silhouette was a white light, the outline a bright blue. The light dimmed and brightened to the rhythm of his heart.

Thump - Dims

Bump - Brightens

Slow and steady.

Thump-bump… thump-bump… thump-bump…

He was sleeping.

“Bi-Han, can you hear me?”

Of course he could. He was choosing to ignore you. Choosing not to imagine himself putting a letter in a mailbox like you taught him to. This should’ve made you abandon this quest, but instead you imagined his silhouette becoming bigger and bigger, consuming your entire vision until-

Birds singing.

He was dreaming of birds singing?

You opened your eyes once you felt your feet touch solid ground. Of course he’d be with his clan in his dreams. This no longer felt like home to you, but it still was to him.

Dreams were strange. Brains just threw context at dreamers without actually showing them anything at times. You could feel parts of his dream being absorbed into you like a sponge. Somehow you knew that he was dreaming of his perfect future. You could tell Liu Kang was gone. Maybe he was dead, maybe not, but you just felt it in your bones that he wasn’t a part of this reality.

You willed yourself to find him, creating a blue string to show you the way to him. You tried to ignore your own thumping heart. Tried to ignore the stone warriors Shang Tsung promised Bi-Han staring daggers into you. Tried to force yourself to take slow and deep breaths as you continued on the path.

Then there he was.

Standing atop a cliff, hands behind his back, watching the beautiful sunset. What Havik made him was gone. He looked like his normal self; same suit, shoes, hair, even the details in his skin were the same. His name left your lips hardly above a whisper, “Bi-Han… it’s me”.

“I know” his voice came out gruff - so the usual.

“Did you hear me when I tried to-”

“Yes”.

You had known it, but it hurt like hell having him confirm that he ignored you. You should’ve left, but instead your feet carried you to be at his side. You could see now that he wasn’t watching the sunset. He was watching his clan train, their moves perfect. Abnormally perfect.

You didn’t know what to say. All of this was a last minute decision. You hadn’t practiced some big speech about how much of an asshole he was and how your ring felt heavier on your finger. You had nothing planned.

“I’ve missed you Bi-Han”.

It was the only thing you could think of. You missed him. Morning, noon, evening, night, you missed him.

“I’ve missed you dearly. The sun doesn’t feel as warm when you’re not around”.

“So?” he said indifferently. You hadn’t looked up at him, afraid of what you’d see in his eyes.

“Have you-” you swallowed. Did you really wanna know the answer? “Have you missed me?”.

He took a few moments to answer. Once he did though, your heart fell to your stomach. “Why would I?”. Why would he? Because you were his closest friend. Had been ever since you were kids! Or maybe because he had proposed to you. Maybe he should miss you because whenever he talked about his future, you were always in it. He spoke again before you could force out a response, “what do you want from me?”.

You stammered your answer out. His shell was always hard, but never this.”I-I, well- I mean, I wanted to see you”. Your eyes finally looked up but his eyes were still on the people below. He was perfect to look at. Always would be to you. Even his new appearance after Havik was perfect to you. It was perfect because it was him. “I love you-”.

He scoffed, which made you furrow your brows. “Love” he shook his head. “You don’t love me. You are a traitor, and it’s a good thing you’re no longer Lin Kuei. You only dragged us down. Dragged me down”. His words sounded like a mantra. Like he had repeated these words over and over again in his head until it became second nature to say it. It still didn’t stop your mouth from opening slightly in shock. People could call Bi-Han mean all they wanted. He had never ever said such cruel words to you. Even when you made mistakes. His lectures always had care and concern under them. This? This wasn’t right.

“Why would you say that to me?”.

Only now did he look at you. You expected to see disdain in his eyes. Malice, disgust, fury, something that showed he had no love for you. You saw nothing in his eyes. Just blackness. Coal. Darkness. A void.

“Why are you still here?”.

“Why did you say that to me?”. He tried to walk away from you but stopped in his tracks when he heard you speak again. “How could you say something like that to me?”.

You heard him take in a deep breath before muttering “don’t do this to yourself”. You hardly even heard him.

“I love you” you hadn’t realized how softly your words came out. Nor did you see Bi-Han close his eyes due to his back being to you. “I’ve loved you practically all my life. You’re all I’ve been thinking about recently, that’s why I’m here. And- and that’s what you have to say to me?”.

“What do you want me to say?”

“That you love me. Or miss me. Or both”

“Why would I?”

“Because that’s what people who love each other say!” you exclaimed a lot louder than you meant to.

He turned to face you. Damn him! You wanted him to look at you lovingly, then wrap his arms around you and say he loved you too. His stare was hard, mouth in a deep frown, hands at his sides. “Sometimes people say things they don’t mean”.

“Are you serious?” you both could and couldn’t believe him. He was always stubborn but to question your love for him? Despair, anger, betrayal, it all began to bubble inside you. “You don’t think I love you? After all we’ve been through? Has it meant nothing?”. Then another thought crossed your mind. One that made you have to take a deep breath before asking. “Have you found another?”.

“I don’t want another” he responded quietly, which was somewhat odd for him. Not necessarily because it was quiet, but because it was soft. Delicate almost. Then he cleared his throat, “love is a weakness. You’ve shown me that”.

“Bi-”

“Leave”

“No”. You kept your feet firmly against the ground. You wouldn’t be going anywhere. Especially not on this note. You didn’t expect that all your problems would be fixed in one conversion but this couldn't be how tonight ended. “We need to talk-”.

“I don’t want you here!” The sudden rise in his voice made you jump. Was that regret in his eyes? No. It couldn’t be. If he actually felt any remorse, his next words didn’t show it. “I don’t want to speak to you. I don’t want to see you. You are a traitor, meaning that you are dead to me! You were only slowing me down and now? Now I don’t have to worry about you! Enough of this! Leave!”. Your breathing began to speed up, eyes becoming watery, vision blurring. Bi-Han spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “Don’t cr-” he took another deep breath. “I don’t care”. He tried to walk away again.

He got mere feet away before the ground around him rose, trapping the both of you in a wide box. You didn’t know what you felt more. Anger because he had the audacity to yell at you, or sadness because he purposely chose to hurt you. They both bubbled inside you. Your mouth worked a lot faster than your brain. “I have always been by your side” you began, “even as children. Whenever you fell, I was there to help you up. When you needed a laugh, I found any way to make you laugh. When the responsibility of becoming the next Grandmaster felt like a hard burden to carry, I was there to support you”.

“The Bi-Han then was a weak child! I’m older now! I have more challenges!”

“And have I not faced your challenges with you by your side?!” you fully yelled now. Your words were laced with grief and you hoped he could hear it. “When others called you heartless, strict, mean, selfish and whatever else they could think of, I defended you! I always did Bi-Han! I would tell them that you had a huge heart under that hard shell of yours! I would tell them you were strict but loving! That I loved you for a reason! That you genuinely cared for your family!”. All the emotions made you bolder. With each remark, you pointed an accusatory finger at him, stepping closer and closer until you jabbed him in the chest. “I would tell people that I never cared about having children, but if it was with you, I’d consider it! And as more days passed, I wanted it! A family with you was all I wanted! All I want even now!”. It was hard to see his expression. Your vision was too blurry. You thought about wiping your tears away, not wanting to appear weak, but they came too frequently. Your cheeks were already wet. “You can be angry with me. I would be okay with your anger, but do not ever make it seem like I do not love you! I was one of the few people concerned about your safety when you were taken! I carried your body to Liu Kang! I-!”.

A sob passed before you could stop it. You couldn’t stand to look at him. You turned away from him, walking a few inches away, suddenly feeling suffocated. Your chest ached badly. You felt that at any point, your heart would explode, or your throat would get tired of your sobs and decide to close instead, leaving you to die. You covered your mouth with the back of your hand in an attempt to quiet yourself. It worked, but only somewhat.

With your back to Bi-Han though, you couldn’t see his reaction. You didn’t see his look of confliction, or him clenching and unclenching his fist. You didn’t know how angry he was at himself, because he should’ve hated you for being a traitor, but he just couldn’t. You didn’t know how badly he wanted to comfort you but forced himself not to. He just needed you to leave but you wouldn’t.

“You betrayed me, do not forget this” he forced himself to say. “I needed you. You, my father, Kuai Liang, Tomas, Liu Kang, you all lack vision! You want me to shackle the Lin Kuei to mediocrity when we could be achieving greatness! No!”. You hadn’t faced him yet. Your bottom lip still trembled. It was humiliating. All this crying on your end and it didn’t even seem like he cared.

No words were exchanged for a moment. You had to focus on slowing your breathing. What you needed was for him to apologize as he held you. Nothing came. Not even when you walked up to him, putting a hand on his arm in hopes to trigger some hidden affection.

He took a step back.

You scoffed, then wiped at your eyes again. Your eyes stayed on the floor as you spoke again. “I have spent days and nights thinking about you. Hoping that-” you sniffed, “that you still loved me. I kept hoping that somehow this would all work out and…”.

You couldn’t say it. Everyday you hoped that everything would get better. You’d have each other again. Life would go back to normal, then one day you two would start expanding your family, and when you finally took your last breath, you’d be holding his hand.

You couldn’t say it out loud. It hurt too much.

“Spare me. Spare me this agony and just say-”

You motioned back and forth between you two hoping he’d get it.

“Say what?”.

You forced it out finally.

“Say you do not love me. Just spare me of this agony and hoping. Just say you do not love me”. Silence passed. You expected that he would just say it right then and there. He didn’t. “Bi-Han please just do this for me”.

More silence.

Then,

“You are a traitor”.

“Fucking shit” you mumbled while wiping your eyes for the millionth time. “Just say it”.

He didn’t. “You were holding me back”.

You looked up at him, though you immediately regretted it. Since when had you gotten so bad at reading him? You tried to guess what he was thinking, but kept drawing a blank. “Please”.

“You left”.

“Bi-Han please”.

Over and over he’d shoot an insult at you, and in response you’d plead with him to say what you needed to hear to hopefully start fully mourning.

You couldn’t take the back and forth anymore. Why couldn’t he do this one thing for you? Just this one parting gift. “You are so fucking selfish! Why can’t you just be honest with me and say it?!”.

“Why don’t you say it to me?!” he challenged, which was ridiculous to you.

“Not only would I be lying, but I would never wanna hurt you like that! You want me to hurt you the way you hurt me?! Fine!”. You pointed a finger at him, “you are everything that is wrong with you!”. The hardness in his eyes softened. Good. You wanted to see him have some sort of reaction. To hurt as much as you did. “You love to blame me, your father, Kuai Liang, Tomas, anyone for how shitty you can be! You betrayed Earthrealm and your brothers! It isn’t wrong to want a new future, but how you went about it? No, Bi–Han! I wasn’t gonna stand by you as you did something so selfish! You love blaming everyone else and refuse to see that you are in a war by yourself! You scarred your brother! You attacked a wedding and killed innocent people! I am by no means an innocent person. I have made mistakes, and if you have ever genuinely felt like I did not love you, then I’m sorry… but the blood you have on your hands, the blood of innocents and your own” your hand found its way to your chest, your palm feeling your heartbeat under it. “That is not on me”.

There was no relief after you finished your rant.

You didn’t feel relief, or satisfaction at the possibility of hurting him. No. You felt terrible. Like you had broken an oath - another one according to Bi-Han -. Once again your gaze tore from his. You shouldn’t have come. This was a mistake. Or perhaps it wasn’t. He hadn’t said the sacred words, but everything else he said was confirmation enough.

He no longer loved you.

The walls surrounding the both of you collapsed. “You don’t want me here, fine” you forced yourself to say. “I won’t come back”.

“And I know it’s true, that visions are seldom what they seem

But if I know you

I know what you’ll do

You’ll love me at once

The way you did once upon a dream”

The heartache was wet tar, sticking to your skin and refusing to budge. You hoped it would cease sometime soon- dammit. Why did you keep hoping for things? Where had hope gotten you? Hope was foolish to cling onto.

A week passed, and still the pain refused to move. You felt it in everything you did. It made your bones stiff, your movements slow, your focus low, your insides hurt. It was the most diabolical of poisons.

When a knock against your door filled your ears, you didn’t bother getting up. You simply told them to come in, and although your voice could rival a church mouse, they heard you anyway and came in. “Kuai Liang” you greeted once he came into view.

“Have you been well?”.

At least he didn’t beat around the bush.

“I’ve noticed your recent behavior and-”

“I apologize if I have been lacking, Grandmaster”

Out of respect you got out of bed and bowed. You must’ve been messing up during training, or-

“You have nothing to apologize for” he took a step closer to you, “you seem unhappy. You know you can come to me, right? I’m your friend, family even. Not just your Grandmaster”. Keeping eye contact had become something hard for you. You looked everywhere else when speaking to someone, which was something you hated because it made you feel weaker than you already typically felt.

His hand found your arm. His touch was light, like he worried you would crack if he pressed against you too hard. “Are you okay?”.

There it was. Those three words opened the floodgates, causing you to wrap your arms around his torso and bury your face against his chest as sobs wracked your body. Had he always felt so similar to Bi-Han or was your mind playing tricks on you?

Kuai Liang was the one who held you close, comforting you with his presence alone.

And like a selfish and desperate bastard, you pretended he was Bi-Han.

“But if I know you

I know what you do

You love me at once the way you did once upon a dream”

A/N: Bi-Han angst is my fave genre y'all. It’s always gonna hit. This is a stand alone so uhhh no part 2 :D.

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captainsophiestark · 7 months ago

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I Made You Breakfast

Kai Parker x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Summary: Kai's on his apology tour, and Y/N is his next stop after things didn't go too well with Damon or Bonnie

Word Count: 2,000

Category: Fluff, Humor, a little bit of Angst

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed to myself as I headed downstairs in my favorite pair of sweats, mentally making a list of everything I had to do today. It was an unfortunately long list, compounded by the latest supernatural drama, which my friends insisted on dragging me into. Bonnie had finally made it home from the prison world, thankfully, but that didn't mean any of the drama in our lives had gone away. In fact, it had almost doubled, with news of Damon's mother floating around in another prison world somewhere. I got halfway through an eyeroll at the memory of everything going on lately when I stopped dead in my tracks.

I could smell bacon, eggs, and toast wafting up towards me from the kitchen. Someone was here, in my house, cooking breakfast. And with everything going on lately, I knew for a fact it wasn't one of my friends.

I glanced around, grabbing a stake off the nearest end table. No vampire should have been able to get into my house unless they were a friend I'd already let in, but I'd had enough near-death experiences despite that fact that I was constantly prepared.

I crept towards the kitchen, trying to listen for any signs of trap or trouble. All I could hear was a faint clinking of plates. If someone had seriously broken into my house, why the hell were they just hanging out in my kitchen making breakfast?

I got my answer a second later when I burst through the door, going for the element of surprise, and found none other than Kai Parker standing before me.

"Oh, hey!" he said, jumping and spinning to face me with wide eyes. "You're up!"

"...Yup. And... you're here. In my kitchen. Making breakfast."

"Yeah! I hope you like it. Here, let me get your plate. I thought I'd have a few more minutes."

With that, he turned to the stove and starting scooping scrambled eggs and toast onto a plate. I just watched him, not moving an inch.

"Kai?"

"Yeah?"

"What the hell are you doing in my house?"

He turned back around to look at me again, his eyes wide and the plate half-finished in his hand. After a moment, his expression morphed into a sheepish grin. I just blinked at him, my expression unchanging.

"Well, after I merged with Luke, I started getting all these... feelings." He said the word like somebody else might say 'zits' or 'rash'. "And one of those has been guilt, for some of the stuff I put you through. Or I guess, your friends, mostly. I tried apologizing to Bonnie earlier, and... it didn't go well."

His expression darkened, and I frowned. But a moment later, the clouds apparently cleared, and Kai fixed me with a beaming smile again.

"So I thought I'd try again with you. In the Prison World, I saw Damon making Bonnie breakfast all the time, and she seemed to really like that. So I figured you might, too."

I just stared at him for a few long moments without saying anything. I turned my options over and over in my mind, trying to get my still half-asleep brain to make a rational choice. I probably should've been incredibly freaked out that Kai was here at all, but I'd actually had a few positive interactions with him even before the whole merge thing, and had kind of started to like him. Or, at least, started to think he had some ally potential, despite other things he did. We'd even bonded over music taste and his new fascination with social media, and he'd tried to help Sheriff Forbes, although it hadn't necessarily been out of the goodness of his heart. For some reason, I just couldn't muster the fear or anger I probably should've been feeling when I looked at him in my house. Finally, I sighed, my mind made up. No reason to try to force bad feelings when they wouldn't come on their own, right?

"Thanks, Kai," I said, actually meaning it as I moved over to the dining table. "Aside from the fact that you broke into my house to do it... that's actually pretty sweet."

He beamed at me, and I found myself returning his smile. He turned back around to finish making my plate, and I shook my head. This was absolutely ridiculous, but I couldn't say I minded very much.

"Here you go!" he said, setting the plate down in front of me with a big smile. He didn't move away, just standing off to the side and watching me expectantly. I picked up my fork, but didn't take my eyes off Kai.

"...Aren't you gonna join me?"

"Oh! Right. You know, I've been practicing how I was going to do this in my head all morning, and now that I'm actually doing it it's like I completely forgot everything I was planning to do. That's weird, right?"

I shrugged. "I mean, sounds like a normal part of being nervous to me."

He nodded emphatically as he returned to the table and sat across from me with a breakfast plate of his own.

"All these new... emotions from Luke have been, like, super weird. I don't know how you all deal with these all the time."

"Eh, yeah, they can be annoying sometimes. It gets easier with practice though, and I'd say on the whole they're a positive experience."

Kai nodded thoughtfully, taking a bite of his eggs as his gaze wandered around my kitchen. I took a few bites of my own food, and I had to admit, he was a surprisingly good cook.

"So..." I started. "Was this it for the apology? It's a great breakfast, but usually an apology has a little more attached..."

"Oh!" Kai's attention snapped back to me. "No no, this isn't it. I was planning to do the other part of the apology while we ate breakfast."

"Makes sense. Go for it."

He cleared his throat and shifted around in his seat, then met my eyes before hesitating again. I tried to look encouraging as I ate my eggs, and after a moment, he nodded to himself and continued.

"I'm sorry for trying to kill your friend, and testing out my power on her. And that I couldn't save your other friend's mom, even though I really couldn't do anything about that. I still... I still feel bad. And honestly, I'm mostly sorry for everything I've done that hurt you, even if it was indirectly. I... I actually really like you, and so, uh... I don't want you to hate me. I keep getting this stabbing pain in my chest when I think about it... or when I think about that time I saw you crying over Bonnie..."

He trailed off, staring at the table instead of me, apparently lost in thought. After a moment though, he shook his head and cleared his throat, looking back up to meet my stare again. His blue eyes were wider than usual, his eyebrows pulling together, and he looked to be in actual distress for maybe the first time I'd ever seen, at least when his life wasn't being threatened.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I promise not to do anything to hurt you again. Will you give me a second chance?"

The corner of my mouth quirked up in a smile, especially at the rare senserity in his tone. I knew my friends would have quite a few things to say about this decision, but I didn't let myself think about that. At least not right now.

I sighed. "Kai, despite the fact that you broke into my house, I'm going to believe you about this whole 'turning over new leaf' thing. I... I'd be lying if I said I didn't like you too. So, if you really mean what you're saying about not hurting me or the people I care about anymore?"

He nodded so fast I was actually a little worried about him.

"Completely serious. Cross my heart and hope to die. I'm ready to join the Mystic Falls Scooby Doo team for good."

I smiled, laughing a little and shaking my head.

"Well, okay then. I can't promise anybody else on the team will be quite as easy to convince as me, but... I forgive you, Kai. I'm happy to see you like this. And, by the way, you make some very good eggs and toast."

"Thanks. I had to get good at cooking, you know, alone in the Prison World." A shadow passed over his face again, until I reached across the table and lightly rested my hand on top of his. Then, his face lit up like the sun. "And thanks for giving me a second chance. I promise, you won't regret it."

I wasn't totally sure I believed that, but I decided not to say so. Instead, I smiled and gave his hand a little squeeze before pulling back.

After a moment of silence where I could see Kai vibrating with the desire to say whatever he was holding back, he finally blurted out the other thing he'd apparently been planning to ask me this morning.

"So... I might be a little rusty about how all this works, or if it's changed since the eighties, but... would you want to go out with me sometime? Like on a date?"

I smiled, then buried my face in my hands. My friends would kill me if I said yes to this, but despite myself, I really, really wanted to.

"What's wrong?" Kai asked. I shook my head and looked up at him again.

"Nothing, Kai, I just... ugh, my friends are really not going to like this."

He smiled. "Does that mean you're saying yes?"

I took a deep breath and let it out, then shrugged and matched his smile with one of my own.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think it does. What the hell, right?"

"That's great! I was thinking we could go do karaoke? I've always loved karaoke. I got good at it when I was passing time in the Prison World."

"I have to warn you, I am very much not good at karaoke. But I'll still sing my heart out with you anyway, if you want to go!"

"Perfect! We can go tonight." I laughed, and Kai's expression immediately dropped. "Is that okay? Do you not want to go tonight?"

"No, Kai, I do. It's a little fast, honestly, but I don't mind. Why wait?"

"That's exactly what I was thinking. So... should I pick you up? Around seven? We could get dinner first, and then go."

"I think that sounds like a great plan, Kai," I smiled at him, which he immediately returned. A moment later, though, his hand shot up to clutch at his chest.

"Ugh, what is... what is happening to me? Why does my heart feel like it's about to explode?"

"That's probably excitement, Kai, or butterflies, which are like positive nerves. I'm feeling them too. It's because we're looking forward to going out together tonight."

Kai made a face. "This is what people were talking about when they said they got butterflies? This is terrible." I hid a laugh behind my hand, and Kai's eyes snapped up to mine. "Wait. You said you were feeling it too?"

I nodded, and Kai's expression immediately changed to a wide grin.

"So you're excited, too?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

He nodded, the smile staying on his face as he dug in to his eggs again, glancing at me between almost every bite. I just shook my head, a smile on my own face all the same. This was going to be an adventure, going on a date with Kai Parker, and I knew my friends were going to want to murder me for it. But I couldn't totally bring myself to care.

Despite some pretty rocky history, I had a weirdly good feeling about Kai, from the moment he'd started his apology speech this morning. And so far, I'd never been wrong when I trusted my gut for stuff like this, even when it led me into karaoke. I had a good feeling it was going to be right about Kai Parker, too.

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