#his grief and all that he DOES try his best to hide how much everyone he ever cared about leaving him affects him.
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tongues--and--teeth Ā· 1 year ago
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How much pain can you forgive? What would you do for those you swore to protect?
#cheesy ass caption#something something an eye for an eye but the actual physical scarring can be interpreted as symbolism of Dark Cacao and Choco's characters#bcs Choco's is like on his eye a very defining and public scar like it's one of the first things you see on his character which can be#interpreted as like how it's clear as day that he's not the same ā€œnoble princeā€ he was while Dark Cacao's (possible) scar is not only#never seen in any of his sprites but we never get a scope to how bad the injury was (even though it's possible he was hardly injured due to#like being immortal but I digress and also think that interpretation is incorrect) could be seen as how he hides his damage from the kingdo#and its citizens even though it's eating him up from the inside and eventually spills over into a more physical manifestation (the wall) of#his grief and all that he DOES try his best to hide how much everyone he ever cared about leaving him affects him.#anyway tl;dr Dark Choco's damage from their conflict is incredibly visible which is reflected in his eye scar while you wouldn't be able to#see Dark Cacao's as easily or at all. Anyway you get it. You see the themes. The symbolism.#tw gore#cw gore#Is this body horror????#probably not????#I heard somewhere that Dark Cacao's crown was supposed to look like thorns and y'know who ELSE#I'm not a christian but sometimes their symbols and stuff go hard tbh#its called like stigmata or smthing (just about the blood on his face)#crk#teethart#cookie run fanart#dark cacao cookie#dark cacao crk#cookie run kingdom#fanart#my art#artists on tumblr#digital art
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hughiecampbelle Ā· 4 months ago
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The Boys Preference: Being Becca and Butchers Child
Requested: Firstly HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL!!!!!! ļ¾Ÿ+.ćƒ½(ā‰§ā–½ā‰¦)ļ¾‰.+ļ¾Ÿ. Secondly, could u write like some headcanon about being Butcher's child (like who is two years older than Ryan) and how other members from the boys (+ maybe Soldier boy, cause of season 3 and how he would interact with them :3) - anon
A/N: Thank you my love!!! In the headcanon I made reader 10+ years older so they'd be at least 18 by the time they found out about Becca and Ryan, I hope you don't mind!! That way they can be part of The Boys and grow up with them, if that makes sense? I also had a very similar request of a headcanon so I'm basing it off that so there's some background :) I love this request!!! Feedback is always appreciated šŸ’œšŸ’œšŸ’œ
Headcanon Pt. 1 / Headcanon Pt. 2
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Butcher knew he couldn't take care of you. He was getting drunk every night, picking fights at bars, searching the city for your mom. Your perfect grades were slipping, you were getting into fights at school, you were emulating him. He knew how dangerous that was. First with your Aunt, then your Great Aunt, until you tracked him down all these years later. He still has a picture of you in his wallet, a baby picture that's creased and faded. You and Becca. You've grown up since then, though. And you're angry. He insist you go back to Judy, pretend you never saw or heard what you did, but you refuse. You want to pick a fight with him. You want to yell and scream and get out eight years worth of grief. He understands where you're coming from, he does. He never wanted to be like his father and yet, in so many ways, that's exactly who he was. Your relationship will never be what it is. That's not possible anymore. You have to learn to deal with one another now, in the present, instead of the happy kid you used to be, instead of the dad he used to be. It hurts you both to think about the past, who you could have been instead of who you are.
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Hughie isn't really sure what to do with you. There's no doubt you're Butcher's kid. He's still relatively new to the team, so he just assumed this was something else Butcher hadn't shared with him. When he realizes no one knew about your existence, he's shocked. You, like your father, gravitate towards Hughie for reasons you can't put into words. You'll let him sit next to you when you're watching TV and maybe even talk to him if you're in the right mood. You don't shoot daggers at him like you try with everyone else. Similar to a cat, he's someone you can stand to be around. He comes to your defense a lot, especially when you stumble in drunk and pass out for the day. He's sure if any of them had been raised by Butcher, or at least the outside relatives, they would have turned out exactly like you. He can't blame you for being angry, or pissed, or hurt. He can see the hurt better than anyone else no matter how much you try to hide it. He thinks you just need some time and empathy to get straightened out. The least they can do is offer that, right?
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Annie has no idea what to do with you. She tried smiling and talking to you, but you didn't want anything to do with her. She reminds you too much of your Aunt. She always said you should be happier, bubblier, that you were so smiley as a kid. You couldn't live in the past like her, with her. Too much had changed. Hughie assures her it's nothing against her, you're just getting used to things. She thinks it's sweet how you're attracted to Hughie. He's the only one you mildly respect and even, once in a blue moon, listens to. She doesn't take it too personally considering you're ready to rip your fathers head off. It could be a lot worse. Over time you see that Annie and Hughie are together and that definitely earns her some points. Annie can't imagine what your life must have looked like, all those years mourning your mother and father, all those years spent with relatives just doing their best. She understood why you were so angry all the time, so cagey and spiky. She doesn't hold it against you.
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M.M. feels conflicted. Betrayed isn't the right word, but it's the closest thing he can come up with. He never 100% trusted Butcher. He was always going behind everyone's backs, doing what he wanted despite the good of the team, etc. He was destructive, combative, and spiteful. But, he thought they knew each other better than that. When he met you he couldn't deny you were Butcher's. Your mannerisms, the crazed look in your eye when you were upset, it all matched your father. He can't help but see you like how he sees Janine, even if you're much older: a victim of Vought. A generational curse. You're stubborn, and angry, and distant all because of what's been done to you, all because of Homelander. If your mom had been around, if Homelander had never done what he'd done, you'd still have your perfect family. He feels this need to protect you the same way he does with your father, even if you both fight him on it, even if you don't want or deserve it. He can't help it.
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Frenchie doesn't trust you the same way he doesn't trust your father. He especially doesn't like that you and Kimiko are so close. She doesn't tell him anything about your conversations, knowing it would completely break your trust if she did. He believes Butcher would hide something as big and important as a child. He knows what your family can be like. Lying, drunken, selfish, vengeful. You're only a few of those things, not that he can tell the difference. You know Frenchie isn't your biggest fan, so you love messing with him, teasing him, rubbing it in his face that you and Kimiko are close. Similar to your father, Frenchie thinks this isn't the kind of place for you. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into. M.M. might feel fatherly towards you, but Frenchie sees you as a Mini Butcher, just another handful no one on the team can deal with. You yell and scream and fight and drink. That proves to him you're still a child despite it all.
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Kimiko adores you. Despite the difference in circumstances, she sees a lot of herself in you. Ripped from your family, angry and hostile and doing everything in your power not to get hurt again. Besides Hughie, you'd warm up to her second. You're actually incredibly smart despite never applying yourself and pick up the signs pretty quickly. Whatever you can't sign, you write to her, wanting your conversations to stay secret. You show her the pictures of your mom that you kept all these years, telling her all about the good times you had before she disappeared. When you see Butcher you instantly grow hostile, angry all over again, and the person she saw, the person she was just talking to who was kind, and thoughtful, and smart totally disappears. When you blast your angry music she never minds. In fact, she quite likes it, adding it to her own playlist. She doesn't look at you like you need fixing or, worse, need to get out of here.
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Bonus! Homelander always knew about you. Becca was more than willing to talk about you and Billy to co-workers. He even remembers taking that picture with you that one Christmas. He's kept an eye on you through the years, but you never seemed like the vengeful type. You never knew what happened after your father abandoned you. He does, however, use it as leverage against Becca. Remember the kid you left behind? Seems like she's got favorites. Becca agonizes over leaving you, but she was caught between a rock and a hard place. He uses you to keep her there, in her place. He gives her updates, usually to make her feel bad. You're kid drinks way too much, did you know that? Of course you didn't. He loves to tell her that Butcher abandoned you all those years ago. He loves to see that it absolutely kills her. He's not worried about you coming after him. You've got to work through your issues before you get to him and therapy for a lifetime couldn't get you an Butcher on the same page.
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Bonus! Soldier Boy would actually get along with you. I think you'd have a Worst Dad Competition and though you're close, you definitely think you win. You two share a drink and you tell him all about your dear old dad. "No wonder you turned out like this." Ben says, pouring you more. Hughie urges you to slow down, but you have a high tolerance. Ben, to piss of Butcher, will always take your side in arguments and uses what you told him against him. "You dumped them off and never looked back. Now you're parenting?" Butcher absolutely hates it. You tell him about your mom, how much she loved you, how she was killed. You don't mention Ryan though, knowing Ben's go to answer would be to seek revenge. You have a lot of complicated feelings around your brother, but you still have a burning Hatred for Homelander. You make Ben promise he'll kill him. He does, even if it means killing his son. You two bond really fast. Neither Hughie nor Butcher trusts it or him, but you do.
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rise-deepseamonster Ā· 7 months ago
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I don't think any season will affect me as deeply as Bridgerton S2.
Ever experience that Anthony and Kate have with their family is a direct reflection of an older sibling's struggles to keep everyone together with only one parent half present, taking on the major part of the responsibility as the head of the house.
Starting with the scene where Edmund dies in Anthony and Violet's arms. It's a clear start of the divide between Anthony and his siblings in terms of being classified as "children". Violet tells him to keep the "other children" from not witnessing what he just witnessed, him having to take charge while he watches his only remaining parent fall apart in despair and anguish. Him begging her to get more involved with the rest of his siblings because he is so scared he is going to mess things up, so scared because he is not his mother and he is not his father. I wonder how many dinners he sat with the rest of his siblings after his mother refused to eat with them and made small talk with his siblings or sat in awkward silence. I wonder how long it took for him to master the small talk and eventually learn everything his siblings were up to so that he can talk to them about it and work in the shadows to make things better (like he thought he was doing with Benedict and the art school). All while trying to encourage his mother, listening to her wish that the baby had done her the kindness of killing her so that she could be with her husband. Watching his expression during that scene was particularly brutal:
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Clearly trying to hang on by a thread as he listens to his mother's suicidal wishes and hope he will have a parent that lives to the next day so he wouldn't have to witness death and wouldn't have to be the only parent left for his siblings, because god help him, I knew he thought he was failing them by just existing and not being his father.
Then the birth of Hyacinth.
When he is asked of an impossible choice between his new family, his to-be sibling and his own mother, his parent, the only person left who is supposed to take care of him. He is not ready to see another parent die in front of him. But he sees his mother begging for her husband, begging for a choice in the matter, driven by pain and grief and sees the doctor calmly ignoring it and asking him. What does he know? He is a child, as his mother says. He wants his father too. He should also be in one of the rooms with his siblings, maybe soothing them and listening to Daphne sing instead of being demanded a choice of lives. He wants his mother to live another day because he cannot fathom the responsibility and the loss he will have to handle otherwise. He wants to demand that they save the mother, you can see it in his eyes but as he sees her begging for the choice, he makes the only one that he hopes his father would approve of.
And thus begins his lifetime of choices that he hopes would be in the interest of everyone else, that he hopes his father would approve of. All while secretly believing that his family hates him for the mistakes he makes as a young, inexperienced man taking all the responsibilities prematurely. And make mistakes he does! Because he lives by a set of rules he hopes the mirage of his dead father might follow, he cannot see that his other siblings are capable and allowed to make their own choices as well (yes yes regency era meant no choices for women but whatever) and constantly made terrible choices for Daphne's personal life in the interest of "protecting" her.
Similar mistakes from Kate. (god what is it about older siblings wanting to do whatever it takes to give what THEY perceive as the best to their siblings?)
She lies and hides and manages Edwina's entire interaction with everyone in the hopes that her sister will be encouraged only into the most wonderful perfect whirlwind of a romance to the best man alive, only to completely neglect and pretty much gaslight her views onto her sister.
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This sentiment? Let me just break it down (from my perspective, there can be many different views and any and/or all may be true including that this is just the way Edwina's personality is): Kate wants Edwina to pursue love, to pursue the match of her wants by choosing the best, the brightest, the smartest, the most charming, etc. Because Kate always tells her that thats what she deserves, and its true, she does deserve the best (well, the best for her that is). You see, when you narrow people down to "selecting the best, being the best" etc, you end up making people think that because they are considered the best by the general population (the season's diamond and most eligible bachelor) that they are destined to be together, to make a stunning, powerful match. Edwina is never given a chance to even understand what best truly means for her and what she deserves (and obviously Anthony never thinks about it lol) and is enamored by getting the best of the best. Why? Is it some sort of ego that's fed to her by Kate? The opposite really. It is her own version of trying to show her family that she can excel at things and make them proud. Which is why when she inevitably fails, she somehow thinks she could've done better to please him and treats the whole thing as a test to her as a person, the person her sister had (in Edwina's mind) worked so hard to cultivate and educate to be the best of the best. And in a society where her worth is determined by her husband, if she didn't get the best of the best man, was she really living up to the work that was put into her?
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"You have choices"
Ngl, that line is probably something she deep down wishes she had in some recess of her subconscious mind or smtg. It is only because Kate is actually there for Edwina emotionally that Edwina doesn't become a complete people pleaser (though lets be clear, she is definitely one, literally changes like a chameleon to fit everyone's likes. Ain't no one that well liked and Daphne clocked that early on).
I am not saying I hate older siblings and that they are the worst controlling beings on the planet. I am myself an older sibling. Actually I think because I'm an older sibling, it makes me even more horrified when I watch the season because I can clearly see the mistakes they are committing even as I know I would do the same in their case. I understand the pain and desperation that drives them, the self-loathing, the mindset that we must deny ourselves any sort of happiness and pleasure because concentrating on ourselves mean that we are neglecting everyone else. The armor we put on to seem the strongest, the meanest, the one who would throw the first punch after an insult flung at their family, the last one to step down from a fight all for our family, all in the name of family.
These two? They would lay down their lives for their siblings. If asked, they would sacrifice themselves with dark magic so that their siblings would never know the pain of a pin prick. Because they know pain and they never want their siblings to feel it. And so they control and manage and make sure everything goes the way they need it to, the way, the only way that their family can be safe and happy. All while they deny themselves the same painless happiness.
Anthony literally refused to fall in love so that he would never have to put his siblings through the kind of pain he went through as he saw his mother sit numbly for months after his father's death, barely existing through everyday. Kate barely viewed herself as Lady Sharma's daughter because she put both her and Edwina on such a high pedestal and stood guard at the bottom of it.
Both of them, oldest siblings resigning and steeling themselves and reassuring themselves that this is what they deserve, this is the price to be paid for the happiness of their family. Then resigning themselves to a life of loneliness, all while their family looks on at them with the greatest pity because they cannot understand for the life of them why their protectors, their loved ones, their older brother/sister would put themselves through things that obviously made them miserable.
And as it does, their pity will turn to frustration and if unchecked, to resentment or bitterness. Secrets and lies and controlling behaviors always come with a cost, no matter the intention. But not only that; What most oldest siblings forget is that everyone needs a role model to look up to and usually people find it in their siblings, their parents or someone else in the family that they know well. With the walls you've erected, they barely know you at all. And what you do display is only misery and burden. I cannot stress how much it pains them to see that in the people they love and how much it affects them.
So anyway, to older siblings out there. Prioritize yourselves. It is literally better for your siblings if you do. Love them, protect them but also teach them through example to make their own choices in life and be stable and happy yourself.
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Also do you think he wanted to scream during this scene? Because personally I would've told her "OFC. OFC lilacs were his favorite. Because I was there when he died picking lilac/violet flowers for his wife named Violet, YEAH I fucking KNEW."
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His mother telling him that she knew what he wanted and that he wanted love was probably the final testament to how little his family knew him. He was probably incredulous at the thought of his family wanting him to find love. Why tf would they think he wants that??
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Why would he want love when it was the very same thing that ruined his mother after his father's death? The same thing that had left her so broken and numb that he had to be awake and pick up the pieces of his family as he could not afford to do the same.
The pain that parents inflict through their own grief/rage etc are things that really leave a lasting impact on the kids huh?
Also yes, I did cry when Lady Sharma told Kate that she always viewed her as a daughter and she was never an outsider to the family because she WAS family, man that shit had me bawling. Nothing ever prepares me for the loneliness of dealing with the consequences of "doing what you think is best" when it comes to other's lives.
Sorry for how all over the place this rant is. Tell me if I missed anything and what all older sibling behavior yall do and how called out this shit made u feel.
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its-luna-noel Ā· 11 days ago
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pirouettes & the ghost of harman street | gojo x reader
10. but i asked if we could be in each other's lives again
"Baby, I'm hurt so bad by you I also think about how nice it'd be, to fall in love again I won't expect the same" ā‹† ā‹† ā‹† Satoru Gojo lost his best friend, his partner, his other half. He's terrified when another friend falls for him. He canā€™t let this time be like the last.
warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, eventual smut, friends to lovers, past satosugu, drinking, partying, brief non-con & past non-con trauma, depression, past suic!de, grief/loss, panic attacks, some dark themes but i promise this is a comfort fic
word count: 5.3k
chapter: 10/10 prev. chapter
masterlist | link to ao3
notes: *mariah carey voice* ITS TIIIIIME
smut time everyone, okay this kind of got away from me so like, if you don't want to read really sweet but kind of um DETAILED smut you guys can just skip to the last like third-ish of the chapter after the first section break, but I just wanted to deliver okay ik this is an explicit work that has not really had that much in it so i just poured it all into a really soft scene okay anyway i'll stop babbling
back to warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (f!receiving), protected sex because safe sex is sexy, praise, it's just nice and soft and loving
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Satoru kisses you for what feels like hours.
His mouth is languid on yours, lips parting against yours as he brushes against you slowly, lovingly. Every time you pull away for a breath, he sees how swollen and red your lips are, and he just softly groans under his breath and kisses you again, unable to resist.
You just giggle breathlessly, hands coming up to his cheeks, cradling him like he means everything to you, because he does.
He hums against your lips, pulling away to kiss your cheek. ā€œLove that laugh,ā€ he tells you, and he grabs your jaw gently in one hand to bring your mouth back to his.
The hold on your jaw encourages your lips open, and as they part he tastes you with a relaxed, unhurried tongue, humming into you again. ā€œI love you,ā€ he murmurs, perhaps for the dozenth time since you crawled into bed together, and you just laugh again and whisper it back to him, voice unendingly gentle.
And when you say it, his heart soars, and he never wants to stop hearing it. ā€œSay it again,ā€ he says, grinning as he nuzzles into your neck.
ā€œI love you.ā€
Heā€™s still smiling when he kisses your throat.
He knows what heā€™s doing; of course he does. He knows exactly what heā€™s doing as his hands come down to your waist, knows what heā€™s doing when he hears your little gasp when his lips move along the curve of your neck, his touch feather-light to start as he glances up at you through thick white lashes. He watches your eyes fall closed, and he smiles and returns his attention to your throat, now parting his lips to breathe heat against you, to watch goosebumps rise along your skin.
ā€œSatoru,ā€ you whisper.
ā€œYeah, princess?ā€
Youā€™re not even really sure why you called for him; you didnā€™t have anything to say. You just said the first thing on your mind, which was his name, falling from your lips like the softest prayer youā€™ll ever say. So when he pulls away and looks at you, tilting his head curiously to hear what you have to say, you blush a little and mumble, ā€œKeep going.ā€
He smiles and leans back down, trying to hide his soft chuckle against your skin. ā€œOkay, princess,ā€ he whispers, his tongue gently brushing a stroke of fire along your pulse point, ā€œIā€™ll keep going.ā€
So you melt into him, closing your eyes and feeling everything he does for you.
His lips are reverent on your body, worshiping your sensitive skin as you arch beneath him, tilting your head back to give him more room to work. One of his hands comes up from your waist to twine in your hair, angling your head further as he moves across the canvas of your throat, painting it with love and slow, gentle passion.
Your hands move into his hair in response, tangling in the white strands and holding his mouth closer against your body. You let out a soft, contented sigh, and Satoru canā€™t fight another smile as he starts kissing lower, along the curve of your shoulder and your collarbones.
The hand thatā€™s resting on your waist, gently squeezing the soft flesh there, dips slowly beneath the hem of your shirt. His touch is a question. ā€œCan I take this off?ā€
You nod, already helping him pull the fabric over your head. He tosses it aside, already leaning down to bring his mouth back to you, picking up where he left off at your collarbones.
He watches you through his lashes as he moves lower, asking permission at every new inch he discovers, wanting your consent at every juncture.
He wants you to say yes and mean it.
And oh, you mean it.
You nod him forward, and he dips his head and kisses the top of your chest, trailing down to the edge of your bra, still watching your expressions. When you arch your back again, silently begging him closer, his eyes flicker back down to your skin beneath his lips, wanting to see every part of you he can, take in how fucking breathtaking you are, make up for all the time he missed being a stubborn idiot and pushing you away.
So, as your body arches and the low light in the room shifts over your skin, his eyes immediately catch something on your skin.
He kisses his way over, across your sternum where the heat of your body radiates against his mouth, to the top of your other breast. His gaze is sharp, focused on whatever dark shadow heā€™d seen, and now as his tongue licks along the curve of you, he realizes that what heā€™s looking at is a bruise, light and healing, a faint mark of greenish yellow on your skin.
Satoruā€™s mouth pauses on your body for a fraction of a second as he realizes heā€™s staring at a healing hickey.
Part of him wants to growl and grab you and make you tell him who gave that to you ā€“ was it your stupid dance partner or have you been with other guys in Satoruā€™s absence ā€“ but the other, larger, more rational part of him knows that this mark is his fault. He didnā€™t own up to his feelings for you, didnā€™t even let himself come to terms with how he felt, and he pushed you away. And now heā€™s living with the consequences.
But he should feel lucky. Heā€™s the one in your bed tonight, not any other guy. Heā€™s the one youā€™re whispering I love youā€™s to as he kisses your body.
So instead of making a scene, he just parts his lips and covers this faint healing mark with one of his own.
Your body arches a little further, a soft breath puffing from between your lips in a gentle exhale of pleasure. Satoruā€™s eyes smile up at you, but your eyes are still closed, face raised towards the ceiling as he leaves his love bite on the curve of your breast.
Then, once heā€™s satisfied with the dark, angry-looking mark his mouth left, he reaches up to palm your tits through your bra.
He hums, the sound low in his chest, and his hands trail around to your back, fingers brushing the metal clasps as he pulls back to look at you. ā€œCan I take it off?ā€ he asks, examining the expression in your eyes, trying to see if youā€™re nervous, or hesitant, or scared.
But you feel none of those things; you trust him. You trust him, and you love him, and you want him to be your enthusiastic yes.
So you whisper it to him, punctuating your answer with a soft kiss on the cheek, and god dammit his face hurts with how much heā€™s smiling. He unhooks your bra, and the straps slowly fall from your shoulders, cups falling away to reveal your beautiful breasts, and heā€™s already moving to kiss them because he canā€™t stand not having his mouth on you.
He kisses a line of wet, hot, open-mouthed kisses to the side heā€™s already marked, and his tongue flashes out to flick your nipple. As his lips wrap around the pink flesh and suck gently, heā€™s still watching you, learning with rapt attention what you like best.
And he takes what he learns to the other side.
Youā€™re starting to squirm, and for a little bit of reprieve you reach forward and gently tug on his shirt, a henley youā€™ve always liked on him, the top button open so you can see the hollow between his collarbones. ā€œCan I?ā€ you ask.
He doesnā€™t even give you a verbal response; he just pulls the shirt over his head, messing up his already mussed hair, and tosses it in the same direction he threw yours.
Then his mouth is back on you, tongue lavishing attention onto your nipple while his hands hold you in place.
You hum, body still squirming beneath his. Your hands explore the planes of his chest and stomach, palms sliding along warm pale skin as you trail up and down, feeling every part of exposed skin you can.
Then Satoru lets go of your nipple with a soft pop, a string of saliva still connecting his mouth to the peak of your breast until he starts kissing his way lower. As he does, your hands return to their place in his hair.
He moves slowly over the soft skin of your belly, tentative and respectful as he slowly nears the waistband of your sweatpants. He glances up at you, feeling you start to tense despite yourself, and your brow is creased over closed eyes, like youā€™re trying anything you can to not think about whatā€™s happened in the past.
His heart aches for you; he wants to show you how good it can be again.
So he spends more time kissing your tummy, kneading the soft tissue at your sides as he waits for you to exhale, to relax just a little bit.
Youā€™re thankful for the time heā€™s giving you to adjust.
It takes you a while to melt into the bed, to finally let the tension bleed from your body. But when it does, you nod down at him, and he starts slowly pulling your sweatpants off.
He kisses down your leg as he pulls them off, his touch now more soothing than burning, more gentle than passionate. Then, once theyā€™re off, he kisses his way back up the other leg, until his lips find your stomach again.
You repeat the process with your panties; he gives you time to get comfortable, to decide if itā€™s still what you want to do. And when you nod him forward, he works slowly, watching you the entire time to make sure you donā€™t change your mind.
It just makes you fall more deeply in love with him every second that he treats you this softly. With so much respect.
And once youā€™re bare before him, you can tell how badly he wants it. Heā€™s practically drooling over you, his pupils dilated as he trails a heated gaze over your body before eventually settling to look into your eyes.
ā€œAre you ready?ā€ he whispers. When you nod, he shakes his head. ā€œNo. Words this time, princess. Tell me that youā€™re ready.ā€
Heat floods your cheeks at his words, but you nod again before whispering, ā€œIā€™m ready.ā€
ā€œGood girl.ā€
And oh, those words just send that heat in your cheeks somewhere else.
He lowers himself between your legs, hands gently rubbing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. He watches you as he moves closer, and his touch is gentle, hesitant, questioning as he moves closer.
His fingers gently brush over your swollen lips, feeling your wetness already starting to weep from between them. ā€œCan I taste you?ā€ he asks, his pupils dilating even further as his fingers gently spread your folds. His eyes canā€™t help but wander, and he pushes his fingers apart into a ā€˜Vā€™ to get a better look at the prettiest pussy heā€™s ever seen. His breath catches in his throat at the sight.
You nod in response to his question. Satoru tsks playfully, smirking up at you. ā€œUse your words,ā€ he reminds you.
You roll your eyes, but youā€™re smiling, too. ā€œYes,ā€ you say softly, hands traveling to his hair, for something to hold onto as he moves closer.
At your consent, he leans in and licks a stripe of heat against you, getting his first taste of you, of your arousal, of how badly you want him.
And god, you taste perfect.
He groans softly, eyes fluttering shut as he starts pressing sloppy kisses to your beautiful pussy. ā€œFuck, I canā€™t believe Iā€™ve been missing this all this time. Never let me live down how much of a fucking idiot I was.ā€
You giggle softly, the sound breathless through your soft gasps of pleasure, and he smiles at the sound before tightening his hold of your thighs and pressing his face closer to your core. Heā€™s practically making out with your cunt, his tongue and lips moving in tandem through your slick folds as he lavishes you with his attention. Every gentle brush of his tongue against your clit makes you jump, just a little, the swollen bundle already sensitive to every touch. But heā€™s not focusing there, not yet; heā€™s getting to know you, tasting every inch before he tilts his chin and dives a little deeper, his tongue brushing the slick entrance of your pussy.
He groans again, clutching your thighs and pushing them further apart as he tastes your weeping entrance, before catching your clit between his lips and sucking ever so lightly, letting go with a pop. ā€œYouā€™re so fucking pretty,ā€ he mumbles into your thighs, and you shiver because youā€™ve never heard him speak like this, his voice a rumbling growl as he continues to devour you.
His tongue flicks against your clit again, now zeroed in on bringing you the most pleasure he can. He wants to eat you alive, he wants to consume you whole, he wants to lick the plate when heā€™s all done because he canā€™t get enough of you, enough of your taste.
Then he pushes his tongue inside you, and your body nearly comes off the bed as you cry out with how fucking good that feels. ā€œSatoru!ā€
He chuckles against you, pushing your legs apart once more, pulling your body back towards his mouth so he can lap at your clit again, his dexterous tongue swirling and flicking and tasting as your hips start to stutter beneath him. ā€œYeah, princess?ā€
You moan loudly as he sucks on your clit again. ā€œOh god, Satoru, please.ā€
ā€œPlease what?ā€ he whispers into you, voice nearly lost between your legs.
Youā€™re not even sure what youā€™re begging for, but you donā€™t stop. ā€œPlease, please, keep going,ā€ you say, and youā€™re practically babbling at this point, mindless beneath the pleasure heā€™s building inside you.
ā€œI already told you,ā€ he says, tongue diving once more inside you and tasting you from the inside, making you writhe and cry out beneath him, ā€œIā€™ll keep going.ā€
And so he does, his mouth working its magic everywhere you need it. Heā€™s watching your every reaction, learning exactly what you like ā€“ goddamn you like when he puts his tongue inside you ā€“ and repeating those actions as many times as he needs to, because he wants you to feel good, needs you to feel loved. He wonā€™t stop until youā€™ve come undone, and even then itā€™s a toss-up, because he wants to make you feel good over and over and over again.
But he also doesnā€™t want to overwhelm you during your first time with him; he knows what youā€™ve been through. He knows this is all about earning your trust back. Showing you that heā€™s worth it.
And so when he feels the muscles of your thighs start to tighten, he works that exact same spot, gazing up at you through his lashes as your breath catches and your chest heaves, back rising off the bed in a beautiful arch and youā€™re crying out his name ā€œOh god Satoru please please Iā€™m gonnaā€“!ā€
And then you fall over, and heā€™s there to catch you, his tongue still helping you ride through it as you gasp and shudder beneath him.
Once your body is no longer quaking with the aftershocks of your orgasm, Satoru slowly makes his way up your body, leaving soft kisses before he props himself up with an elbow beside you, trailing a hand over your bare side. He gazes at you for a long moment, eyes full of adoration, indulging in his memories of how you just looked, felt, tasted as you came undone for him.
Your fingers brush over his chest, then down to his stomach, finally brushing the waistband of his jeans. You tug gently at the button. ā€œMy turn?ā€ you ask.
He chuckles and shakes his head. ā€œNo, princess, not this time.ā€ Youā€™re already pouting, because of course you are, youā€™re an entitled little princess who wants what she wants. ā€œNext time, I promise,ā€ he tries to reassure you, still laughing softly. ā€œJustā€¦let me worship you this time, okay? Let me make up for all the time I lost.ā€
And so, because you canā€™t deny him when heā€™s speaking such pretty words and making such pretty promises, you relent. And when he pulls his jeans off, itā€™s not for you to touch him; itā€™s for him to get one step closer to giving you everything he has to offer.
He kisses you for a long time, so long that youā€™re stunned and more than a little impressed by his willpower. Your experiences havenā€™t always been the best ā€“ as he very well knows ā€“ and so your general opinion of men is that once they get started they canā€™t be stopped, but Satoru is either superhuman or is just an actual decent guy, because even though you can feel how hard he is through the thin fabric of his underwear, can feel how badly he wants you as his hips rest against yours, he doesnā€™t push you an inch further than youā€™re ready to go.
He makes you confirm again, watching as you pull back just enough to whisper, ā€œIā€™m ready.ā€
So he reaches over to your bedside table, raising his eyebrow for confirmation before you nod and he slides open the drawer, finding a foil wrapper inside and pulling it out. He sets it on the pillow beside your head, and then he reaches down to start pulling off his tight boxer briefs, and as you watch him spring free, your breath catches in your throat.
Heā€™s beautiful, perfect and pink and absolutely mouthwatering, and so now youā€™re even more pouty that he wouldnā€™t let you return the favor and use your mouth. But he just chuckles and wraps his hand around his cock, running his thumb over the tip which is now smeared with precum. He strokes himself once, long and slow as he looks at you, and then heā€™s unwrapping the condom and rolling it on, the packaged lube slippery on his fingers.
Then he pulls your hips towards him, settling himself between your legs, and asks once more. ā€œAre you sure?ā€
Youā€™ve never been more sure of anything in your life. ā€œYes.ā€
So he aligns himself with your beautiful pussy, still weeping from your orgasm, guiding the blunt tip between your swollen lips. And then, slowly, he starts pushing inside.
Your back arches, and the movement feels so fucking good for both of you that you moan into each otherā€™s ears. Your lips fall open as your head tilts back, another moan already falling from them as he continues to slide inside, stretching you open with such delicious fullness, and you want this feeling to last forever, and part of you hopes it will.
Satoru comes to a stop once heā€™s fully seated inside you. His shoulders heave up and down as he tries to breathe through the pleasure of you wrapped around him, so wet and warm and tight on his thick cock, and he wants to ravage you, wants to bully somehow deeper inside you and fuck you so hard he leaves an imprint on your mind, because youā€™re his and heā€™s yours and he never wants anything to change that.
But he takes a deep breath, refocuses. Thatā€™s not what heā€™s here for. Heā€™s here to love you, to beg forgiveness, to show you how much you mean to him.
ā€œFuck,ā€ he whispers, and his voice is strained as he slowly pulls his hips back, and the sound of your whimpering does not help his resolve to keep it slow and soft, to love you like you deserve. But he just shakes the thoughts away and slides in again, slotting so perfectly inside you itā€™s almost unfair. Itā€™s not even over and he canā€™t wait to do this again, to be inside you over and over again for the rest of your lives, if youā€™ll let him, to show you how much he loves and cherishes you.
And maybe there will be better times to ruin you, too.
His pace is slow, almost devastatingly so. Youā€™ve never had it like this before; no oneā€™s ever treated you like youā€™re this soft, this fragile. Youā€™re so used to being taken that youā€™re blown away when Satoru gives just as much.
ā€œSo perfect,ā€ he murmurs into your ear, breath hot and heavy against the side of your neck while he makes love to you, showing you the very definition of the phrase. Itā€™s everything you couldā€™ve asked for, everything you never knew you needed, everything you didnā€™t even know was possible outside of fiction. But here he is, loving you so deeply, so thoroughly, and you canā€™t deny his feelings if you tried.
He loves you; thatā€™s without a doubt.
He strokes in and out of you slowly, torturously. Once again, his resolve blows your goddamn mind, because you canā€™t imagine how heā€™s still moving like this when even parts of you want him to be tearing you apart and ripping you in half, fucking you with animalistic need after all this time of yearning for him and never having him. But you donā€™t ask for that, because you know thatā€™s not what tonight is about. Tonight is about love.
And so he continues loving you, and you love him right back.
Satoruā€™s breathing starts to hitch, the first indication that heā€™s at all losing his composure. His hips stutter, but it's barely perceptible with the slow rhythm heā€™s set in motion. He reaches down and gently starts rubbing your clit, in motions very much like those he learned you liked with his tongue, because he knows heā€™s getting close and he needs you to cum at least one more time before heā€™s done with you. Your hips jump back a little as you gasp.Ā 
ā€œSatoru,ā€ you say, and your voice is almost panicked when your hand comes to grab his wrist, ā€œI canā€™t.ā€
He raises his head from the crook of your shoulder, pausing all movements for a moment as he examines the look in your eyes. You whine and try to shift your hips under him, try to chase that pleasure he was just giving you, but he ignores you in favor of making sure youā€™re okay, that youā€™re not panicking, that you need him to stop. When he realizes that youā€™re not scared of him, and that no bad memories are lurking behind those eyes, he softly smiles and starts moving again. ā€œYes, you can,ā€ he finally replies, fingers rubbing once more on your clit.
You cry out, bucking underneath him. ā€œSatoru!ā€ you cry again.
ā€œShh,ā€ he whispers soothingly, ā€œyou can do it. Donā€™t be afraid of it; Iā€™ve got you.ā€
And so he teaches you something about your body you never really knew; that cumming once is great, but doing it twice was even more delicious.
Youā€™re a quivering mess underneath Satoruā€™s hips, riding out your second orgasm against his throbbing cock. Heā€™s twitching inside you, and his chest heaves up and down as he gasps, eyes squeezed shut so he doesnā€™t think about how fucking good that cunt feels cumming around his cockā€“ oh shitā€“
At the sensation of you clamping down on him so hard it nearly hurts, at the wet sounds of him still thrusting into you with your arousal dripping down to his base, at the thought that he can do this again and again as long as youā€™ll allow him to, he groans and orgasms, too, emptying himself into the rubber condom.
You both stay there for a moment, dazed and panting and exhausted. But then Satoru slowly pulls out, which draws a small whimper from between your lips, and throws away the condom. Then he crawls back into bed beside you, pulling you against his chest and nuzzling his face into your neck.
ā€œI love you,ā€ he whispers against your skin, and you just smile sleepily, and youā€™re not even sure your words are understandable as you mumble out a response, ā€œLove you, tooā€¦ā€ Before you both drift to sleep in the comfort of each otherā€™s arms.
ā‹†Ėš šœ—šœšĖšā‹†
When you wake up in the morning, stirring softly under the soft light filtering through your blinds, you find your bed cold and empty. And you wonder, for a moment, if last night was nothing more than a dream.
Then you roll over, eyelashes fluttering, and you see the indent of a body on the other side of the bed, and you know it wasnā€™t a dream; Satoru really was in your bed last night.
And now heā€™s gone.
Your heart breaks a little, and you begin to wonder if everything he said last night was a lie. If he really did just say those things to get back in your life, to get you back on his hook because he needed you to love him, to be head over heels for him.
Then you hear dishes clinking quietly in the kitchen, and after a moment of irrational fear that a stranger is in your house, you realize he must have stayed.
You try not to let your heart jump into your throat at the thought.
You slowly crawl out of bed, reaching into your dresser to pull out some pajama shorts and a sweater. You put on your clothes, gently stretching before padding out of your bedroom and towards the kitchen.
You see Satoru, dressed in his boxers and t-shirt, his back to you as he reaches into your fridge, moving with surprising familiarity in the space he hasnā€™t occupied in so long. You watch him for a moment, letting old memories resurface while hoping there are many more to be made.
He turns from the fridge, and when he sees you, his face lights up.
The smile on his face makes your breath catch.
ā€œYouā€™re up,ā€ he says, and his voice is soft and so, so gentle as he puts the eggs down on the counter and comes to meet you. His hands rest gently on your hips, pulling you close. ā€œI hope I didnā€™t wake you; I was trying to be quiet.ā€
You just shake your head, looking up at him. Taking in his messy bedhead, his bright eyes, his loving smile.
ā€œI love you,ā€ youā€™d both said.
You can hardly believe it that, after all this time, here you are. Standing in your kitchen, arms wrapped around each other like thereā€™s nowhere else youā€™d rather be.
ā€œNo,ā€ you finally respond, smiling a little. ā€œThough quiet and Satoru Gojo donā€™t really go together, do they?ā€
He chuckles and draws you closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into a tight hug. He kisses your hair. ā€œSuch a smartass.ā€
ā€œYou know you love me.ā€
ā€œYeah, I do. Donā€™t let it get to your head.ā€ He presses another soft kiss to the top of your head before slowly letting you go. His hand lingers on your back as he steps back into the kitchen. ā€œHungry?ā€
You nod, watching him as he moves in your home. Time and space seem to blend, and it feels like he never left, like itā€™s last year and heā€™s learning his way around. Like youā€™ve grown together, over all these months, instead of apart. Like even through the distance, the absence, the silence, you couldnā€™t undo the knots that tied you both together.
Like your red string is a little messy, a little tangled, but still strong as ever.
You pad quietly into the kitchen, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist. Heā€™s warm, and you press your face into the space between his shoulder blades, breathing him in as you hug him from behind, shutting your eyes at the peaceful feeling it gives you.
He hums, leaning back into you for a moment before he returns his attention to the stove. ā€œFeeling okay?ā€ he asks.
You nod against his back, staying quiet for a long moment. Enjoying the serene, domestic scene. Of course youā€™re doing okay; you have him back in your life, in a way you never dared let yourself dream. You canā€™t think of anything you could want more than this. Finally you murmur, ā€œNeed help?ā€
He shakes his head. ā€œNope. Just stay there and be my little cheerleader while I make you the best breakfast youā€™ve ever had.ā€
ā€œThatā€™s a bold claim.ā€
He grins, and you can hear it in his voice when he says, ā€œI promise to deliver.ā€
And you just smile, because heā€™s there, your cocky, playful little shit of a best friend, and you canā€™t imagine anything more beautiful than being able to hold him while he makes you an admittedly pretty good breakfast.
So when he turns to hand you your plate, you lean up on your toes and kiss him. And you whisper, ā€œI love you,ā€ to make up for all the time you had to hide it.
ā‹†Ėš šœ—šœšĖšā‹†
Heā€™s not exactly sure what drew him to you, but if he had to pick one thing, it was probably your laugh.
He heard it for the first time at that party, all those months ago, and now youā€™re sitting here beside him on his couch, tucked against his chest, and even though all this time has passed, your laughter hasnā€™t changed, nor has the way that laughter makes him feel.
Heā€™s laughing, too.
Heā€™s laughing because of course he is, heā€™s watching your eyes light up and your lips part with such a beautiful sound, so how could he not join in? His arm gently tightens around your shoulders, and he looks back over at Shoko, flashing a grin. Everyoneā€™s cheeks are flushed with sake, and everyone seems lighter now that youā€™re all together again, returning to old habits of drunken movie nights in each otherā€™s apartments.
ā€œWe are not watching Twilight!ā€ she says, putting her foot down indignantly.
ā€œOkay, but those movies are classic cinema at this point!ā€ you explain, shoulders still shaking while you laugh.
Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose. ā€œThough Iā€™m inclined to agree that the movies have entered the ā€œso-bad-theyā€™re-goodā€ movie canon, I donā€™t exactly want to watch a movie about shitty vampire teenage romance, either.ā€
Both you and Satoru look over at Utahime, pouting, giving your best puppy dog eyes.
She looks sheepishly at Nanami, then to Shoko. ā€œIā€™ve never seen them. Iā€™m curious.ā€
And so with a groan, Shoko tosses the remote back to Satoru, throwing herself into the plush couch cushions with a pouty grimace. She crosses her arms over her chest.
ā€œNow whoā€™s being the child?ā€ Satoru says, grinning as he scrolls to find the first movie.
Shoko shakes her head, turning with her lips parted for a sassy retort. But when she looks over, she sees you looking up at him, and the expression in your eyes even takes her breath away. Youā€™re looking at him like he hung the stars, like he might be one of them himself, fallen to earth and crash landed right into your arms. And so when he clicks on the movie and glances down at you, then does a double-take when he sees you already looking at him like that, his heart softens into useless mush. His hand comes up to stroke your cheek, and you lean into his palm, eyes soft, and you lean up and whisper something in his ear, and he grins before returning the favor.
Shoko just smiles and glances upwards, and she thinks to the friend she lost that he can finally rest, because his boy is in safe hands.
And that night, the ghost of Suguru Geto does rest, handing over the heart of his person to you. The little princess who so gracefully earned it.
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notes: man.
i hope everyone loves this chapter, and that this was as beautiful an ending as i wanted it to be.Ā 
i LOVED working on this fic; this is my first mono-romance work since i was like thirteen, and so i was a little intimidated by posting it, but i really enjoyed writing it for you all. i tried to do all our themes justice ā€“ grief, mental health, SA ā€“ so i hope that read well just as much as i hope the love story was compelling and fulfilling.
notes on titles: the pirouettes part was easy to incorporate, obviously with our ballerina princess, but using suguru ā€“ and, by extension, the version of satoru after he lost suguru ā€“ as the ā€œghost of harman streetā€ took a little more explicit discussion, so i hope it didnā€™t feel like i was force-feeding the idea.
thank you guys again. (hope you guys are all aching just a little bit like i am that itā€™s over.) much love, luna xx
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darkficsyouneveraskedfor Ā· 10 months ago
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All Things End 1
Warnings:Ā non/dubcon, mentions of loss (death, miscarriage), and other dark elements. MyĀ username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Characters:Ā Arvin Russell
Summary:Ā Newly widowed, you take a job at the local grocer to make end's meet.
Part of the Backwoods AU
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Iā€™m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
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Your shoulders bangs and you falter, setting the bag of flour back on the flat. Itā€™s been bothering you lately, mostly in the mornings. The joint burns when you raise your arm too far and thereā€™s a knot right under your shoulder blade. You hold back a grunt and try again, heaving the heavy sack onto the shelf, a dusting puffing onto your apron.
You reach for the next but find it no easier. Before you can take the next, itā€™s lifted out of your grasp and easily placed on the stack. You look up at the man as he grins at you. You know him but everyone knows everyone around here.Ā 
You might know his name but you donā€™t know much of Arvin Russell. Heā€™s younger than you, much younger. You knew his father when he was still around but he died years ago. Funny how those things go.
ā€œLet me get thisā€ he chimes and hauls another sack onto the shelf.Ā 
You stand straight, hands on your hips, ā€œplease, you donā€™t gottaā€¦ itā€™s my job.ā€
ā€œThey got a lady like you doing all this?ā€ He asks as he tosses another like itā€™s nothing. Are they really that heavy or are you just getting weaker?
ā€œReally, I canā€™t let youā€“ā€ you grab the other end of the sack in his hands.
ā€œI donā€™t mind,ā€ he insists.
ā€œThatā€™s nice but my managerā€“ā€
ā€œAh, donā€™t worry about him,ā€ he shrugs and a strand of his reddish hair droops down his forehead.
ā€œReally, itā€™s fine,ā€ you tug on the sack again.
ā€œMy mama taught me not to let a lady do the heavy lifting,ā€ he argues.
ā€œWell, Iā€™m sure she meant the young pretty ones,ā€ you wrestle away the bag and do you best not to teeter, ā€œyouā€™re nice but I gotta do this.ā€
He lingers, watching you, waiting for you to falter. You hold your breath as you ignore the fire in your shoulder. Youā€™re embarrassed. When you were his age, it wouldnā€™t be a real task. He canā€™t understand the way the years eat away at you, though you suspect he understands some things.
ā€œI didnā€™t know you worked here,ā€ he says as he takes a can from the shelf, paying special attention to the baking powder label.
ā€œCouple months agoā€¦ā€ you say vaguely.
ā€œMmm,ā€ he nods and puts the can back, ā€œIā€¦ awful what happened to your old man.ā€
ā€œYours too,ā€ you counter and cringe, ā€œsorry, Iā€“ā€
ā€œItā€™s okay, you get it,ā€ he says, ā€œnever really goes away, does it?ā€
You shake your head, ā€œnot really.ā€Ā 
You drop the last bag on the shelf and huff. You wipe your hands on your apron and grab the dolly handle, pumping the flat up on the wheels. Arvin steps back to the other side of the shelf to clear your path.
ā€œThanks,ā€ you steer past him.
ā€œNo problem,ā€ he hums, ā€œhave a good one.ā€
You keep on, turning the flat towards the warehouse doors. You push through the swinging doors and leave it with the rest for Casey to load or unload. You roll your shoulder but it only makes it worse. You whimper and kick the doors open with your foot as you go back onto the floor.
Thereā€™s no hiding since you started at the grocery store. Every face is familiar, every eyes is judging, they all know who you are, and they all look at you with pity. The whispers are often louder than that.Ā 
ā€˜Poor thing.ā€™ ā€˜Did you hear how her husband went?ā€™ ā€˜Never even had a child.ā€™ ā€˜Never one that lived.ā€™Ā 
Your grief makes for good gossip. You ignore their wagging tongues. You need money if you want to keep the house and what Ben left behind, isnā€™t enough to last. Itā€™s the only thing left of him and you canā€™t let it go.
You go up to cash and take over at the till. Lynette puts her basket on the counter as she greets her in her crowlike voice. Sheā€™s the worst of them. Everyone knows she sits on her phone and makes her rounds, calling to gather intel like some mafioso.
ā€œDid ya hear?ā€ She beams, ā€œMollyā€™s having a fifth.ā€
ā€œOh, thatā€™s wonderful,ā€ you put on a fake smile as you play minion.
ā€œDonā€™t know yet if itā€™s a boy or a girl, though I think sheā€™s got enough of bothā€“ā€ she suddenly covers her mouth, ā€œoh, hon, I forgot, Iā€™m so sorryā€“ā€
ā€œHm? What do you mean?ā€ You hold back your agitation.
Of course it wasnā€™t an accident. Sheā€™s needling for something. She wants to see you crack. Life hasnā€™t been kind but youā€™re just fine with it. Youā€™re getting on.
ā€œItā€™s justā€¦ I know itā€™s been hard and nowā€¦ Bennyā€™s goneā€¦ā€
ā€œBen,ā€ you correct her, unable to restrain that ounce of distaste, ā€œitā€™s life.ā€
ā€œMmm, you have my sympathies,ā€ she places her hand over her heart as you scan a dozen can of discount tuna. She must have a pantry full of Atlantic skipjack.
You grumble as you focus on your work. She wonā€™t get much from you but you sure sheā€™ll make something up. Sheā€™s got too much time for her own good. Her only hobby is talking. You read out her total and accept her check, tucking it under the drawer. Only your goodbye is genuine as youā€™re all too happy to see the back of her.
You look over as Arvin approaches. Unlike Lynette, he takes the items from his basket and sets them on the counter. You could sing just at the simple consideration. You ask him if he wants a bag as you start scanning.
ā€œShould just need the one,ā€ he says, ā€œslow day?ā€
ā€œAlways is around here,ā€ you shrug, wincing at the tug in your shoulder.
ā€œDonā€™t mind, itā€™s my day off,ā€ he smiles, ā€œbut I hope it goes by quickly for you.ā€
ā€œEh,ā€ you mutter as you put a can of maple beans in the paper bag. Those were Benā€™s favourite, youā€™d make him with sausage and a bit of your blueberry chutney. ā€œHope youā€™re not spending your whole day doing errands.ā€
ā€œJust this,ā€ he says brightly. You look at him as he beams, watching you with that grin. Heā€™s polite, his father would be proud. ā€œHow much do I owe ya?ā€
You give him his total and he counts out bills from his wallet. You return his change and a receipt. He tucks them away as you go to grab his bag. Heā€™s quicker, scooping it away before you can get it.
ā€œI got it,ā€ he says, ā€œyou take it easy.ā€
ā€œUh, thanks, have a good day,ā€ you stand straight and your cheek ticks as a strike of lightning runs up the back of your neck.
ā€œShoulder wonā€™t get any better if you donā€™t,ā€ he tuts as he struts around the end of the counter.
You furrow your brow as you watch him go. He offers a small wave before he sets his sights to the exit. You turn back to the till and grip the edge of the counter. How did he know?
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geraskierfanficprompts Ā· 5 months ago
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Prompt 111
`Jaskier and Geralt are playflirting a lot more than they used to. Geralt allows more touches than normal. They had a heartfelt talk one inebriated night about intimacy and longing for someone to hold. Clearly, they're ready to move forward from friendship into romance, right? Geralt's finally caught wind of Jaskier's hints and is dropping his own? Geralt gave him a custom ring the other day! They're clearly about to embrace each other and make out wildly and it'll be the best day of Jaskier's life! Even if Geralt had just grunted when Jaskier confessed, Jaskier would prefer it to Geralt being disgusted and hating him forever. Jaskier finally plucks up the courage one night to tell Geralt how he feels. Jaskier picks wildflowers and makes a clumsy bouquet, and ties it together along with a handwritten poem about how much Jaskier loves Geralt, and how beautiful he finds him. He finds Geralt sat by the fire, and Jaskier stares at his back for a moment, before clearing his throat, and softly asking Geralt what Geralt thinks about love. Geralt speaks of grief, and loss, and pain. About how it's not worth it in the end. Jaskier is heartbroken but he laughs it off and hides the bouquet deep in his bags. He goes to bed early, and prays that Geralt can't smell his soul-crushing devastation.
Geralt is beginning to panic. Jaskier and him have been flirting, and Jaskier touches him more and for longer, and That One Talk they had that night. But everyone to ever love Geralt has died. Quite horribly. Sometimes by his own hand. He can't love Jaskier, for it'll end with his bard's beautiful lively blue eyes unseeing as he lays dead on the ground. He has nightmares about it for four nights straight. One night, he's poking around at the fire at camp when Jaskier from behind him asks him what he thinks of love. He gives his honest answer. Loving Geralt just isn't worth it. It always ends with pain and heartache.
A few nights later, Jaskier asks Geralt to grab him something from Jaskier's bag. It's nothing. It's simple and unassuming. And yet while Geralt rummages through the bags, he accidentally stumbles across a crumpled little withering bouquet of flowers, complete with a beautiful poem about loving... Him. Jaskier wrote a poem about loving Geralt? Were the flowers for Geralt? Why is it in Jaskier's bag? Did Jaskier lose his nerve? Did Jaskier think better of it? Or was- FUCK. The night at the campfire! Shit, he always does this- This is precisely why he didn't want them to fall in love in the first place! Jaskier would get hurt. But it's too late to stop them falling now, he supposes... He'll think more about the repercussions about it all later. First thing's first, Geralt has to make a bouquet and try his hand at writing.
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crackhead4 Ā· 2 months ago
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I had this idea in my head about an AU from the new transformers one movie.
So you know how the planet is made by this basically higher entity? God? Idk, and they probably knew what exactly was happening on this planet cause , well, they ARE the planet.
What happens if they weren't happy with the outcome of the end of the movie? What happens if they send some back in time with their memory intact completely? They knew exactly what happens, where everyone is like they can feel a bug on their own body. They remember the exact events that made their time line their own, even if they weren't involved in these events.
Now imagine, the obvious choice would be Optimus Prime because of the matrix and stuff, BUT now hold on, IF IT WASN'T HIM. not to like be nice to do the poor guy like noooo. I feel like this AU he should also keep his memories. However, he doesn't know that their HIS memories. That he has these very life like (or robot like?) dreams while he sleeps. He doesn't know why he has them, he doesn't know how they started, why this is only happening to him, he doesn't want to know why this look alike D-16 doesn't act like HIS D-16 and he doesn't even know why his brain ( or is it like brain panel or smth) us making up thus crazy conspiracy theory about Sentinel Prime. All he does know, however, is something in his veins ( I'm not even attempting to try and guess the robot version of veins) is telling him to stay close to HIS D-16. He probably thinks he's going crazy but is lole really good at hiding it, so he goes down to like the archeives to see what the answer is to allllll his questions and dream problem.
ANYWAY (I swerved very off topic) the mech I want to see spiral themselves in the future is D-16, not because there are probably better options like Elita or Bee or hell even Sentinel Prime would be a crazy thing to happen. I WANT TO SEE THIS MAN SUFFER, THAYS WHY.
Because just imagine how Megatron must feel after the movies, it would be perfect and so goddamn MESSY. He probably in grief with losing his best friend/lover (cause we all saw what was going on), then seeing and believing the fact that the matrix is using his dead best friend/lover's body as a way to beat him, having to battle the guilt he must feel for letting go of Orion while he battles this Optimus Prime wear that wears Orion's skin and THEN getting banished by his only home, taking over and leading a whole revolution army on the same night AND THUS (and yes that wasn't a type-o that says THUS) creating THE most depressing, heartbreaking, dramatic, bloody divorce in the history of Cybroton have ever seen.
So now you can see why I want to just pull this mindset and just plop it right back into D-16, the cogless miner. He restarts again from the very beginning, with Orion waking him up, saying he has an idea. The utter carnage and chaos that would ensue would be beyond my imagination right now at like 9:07 at night.
BUT YEAH CIRCLE BACK to the fact that I said they would remember every major event that caused their timeliness to be THEIR timeline, which would mean Megatron would remember everything that happened. He would remember Sentinel Prime's betrayal not just like D-16 but as the Primes the crime wqs committed to. He would feel it like Alphatrion, Megatronus and etc. He would feel the utter rage that Sentinel had when the matrix didn't choose him as the leader and faded right in his hands. He would feel the detach when Airachnid would feel when watching over Sentinel's shoulder and seeing exactly what he does and seeing nothing wrong with it.
HE WOULD FEEL SO MUCH AND I COUPD GO ON AND ON AND ON ABOUT, THIS BUT ANWAY-
I just really want to see what fanfic writers would make if given this prompt cause it's been on Mt mind and he'll I've thought about writing it about like inec as was like Hell no cause I know it would be atrocious to read.
Plus, I really wanted to get this idea just onto something, at least to get it out of my brain but now i don't think that's gonna happen cause now I'm gonna be daydreaming about how other people would work this story idea šŸ˜­šŸ˜­.
BUT YH IF ANYONE IS GONNA MAKE THIS PLEASE TAG BE IN IT SO I COULD READ IT šŸ™šŸ™šŸ™šŸ™
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llamagoddessofficial Ā· 1 year ago
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how would the normal boyo's react to mc's death?
no murder, nothing crazy, just old age taking away the love of their lives.
and for bonus points lets say they had been happily married for decades as to add on the memories and the sudden shock of losing someone that had become such a key factor in your life.
I think I've mentioned this before, but it doesn't hurt to bring it up again. Aggre Mc is going to live a lot longer than she expected. Even with absolutely no intervention, thanks to her connection with the guys, her Soul has three major sources of magic nearby that instinctively constantly share their power with hers. It will probably expand her lifetime by a century, minimum. Her big issue isn't going to be dying; it's going to be dealing with the implications of living so much longer than she thought she would.
There's also the topic of a Soul bond. If she Soul bonds with any of the three of them, and doesn't have kids, she's pretty much going to live as a monster does (forever, unless interrupted). In Aggre, they definitely discuss the subject of her possible death eventually- and my personal canon post-Aggre is that after settling into a rhythm and spending a few decades together, when Mc decides she wants to Soul bond, the boys elect Sans to be the one she bonds with. She'd then live with them like that.
But... in a hypothetical scenario, where Mc resists everything and dies... I think this is how it would go. Obviously, angst and death under the cut.
Sans: Honestly, Sans takes her approaching death the best. Which should really worry you about how the other two would react. Does he fall apart? Absolutely, the last time he felt this kind of agony was when he lost his mother. But Sans has always been good at disguising his emotions, hiding tremendous pain under an easygoing exterior. He keeps up with the dishes, organises her end of life care, keeps contact with his friends. Papyrus would be the only one to see even a fraction of the true extent of Sans' grief. Sans is about to lose the love of his life, and has completely frozen over to avoid crumbling.
Red: He definitely takes it better than you'd expect, considering he'd have a mended relationship with his brother. But it still hits. It's cruel that the universe sent him someone who taught him how to let himself feel, then took that person away and delivered the worst pain he's ever felt.
Mc would be proud of him, though. Despite the pain, he avoids falling back into the worst of his old addictions, because he knows its not what she would want and it won't actually make the pain go away. It will just numb him to everything; including those who are trying to help. He picks up smoking again in the days leading up to her death, but he avoids the bottle.
Skull: It's hard, for him. It's really hard.
All of them knew it would be particularly difficult for Skull. They had a long time to discuss it- a long time to talk the subject over. Mc prepared stuff for him, for after she's gone... people to talk to, things of hers to hold when it hurts, exercises for him to hopefully learn to deal with it. For a while, everyone was convinced Skull was ready. Even Skull.
... But he just... he just can't do it. He can't do it. He can't let her go. It doesn't matter how many hours she spent holding his hands, how hard they all believed he'd be fine without her- it doesn't matter how much he healed by her side and how well adjusted he seems now. The moment he realises she's really genuinely dying, the journey ahead of him looks so impossibly dark, so frightening. He holds her as she's dying and he feels so small. He cries like a baby and begs her not to leave him behind.
The moment she dies, he catches her Soul. He holds it in his hands, hushing it like a scared bird and tucking it away into his chest, where he can keep her alive. Honestly, they'd have to cut him open if they wanted to let her pass on.
... But I think at that point, Red and Sans aren't exactly fighting to make him let go. In fact... something unspoken passes between the three of them. Skull just did what all of them wanted to do.
Skull gives her to Sans, who keeps her hidden away, within his own Soul. Her Soul knows his best, and will feel most comfortable there long-term.
They'll figure out something. They have all the time in the world.
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sleepyparalysisdmon Ā· 9 days ago
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Orbit - Act One
Y/N has a little problem and itā€™s that sheā€™s literally never alone. She hasnā€™t known what a little peace and quiet is for nearly a decade. When her therapist suggests a wellness retreat, she expects to be bored to death and just maybe learn to like meditation a little bit. She does not expect to meet someone that she has an insane connection with. Too bad it might be too good to be true.
You can find the masterlist here.Ā 
Genre: medium au, a hint of soulmate au, heavy on the angstĀ 
Pairing: Minghao x reader (featuring therapist!Jeonghan, best friend!Junhui, and ghost!Vernon, with a tiny bit of coworker!Seungkwan)
TW/CW: *deep breath* a lot of discussion of death and moving on (or not) afterwards, grief, trauma (specifically regarding a car accident), therapy, meditation, hypnosis, sleep disturbances, psychic abilities, discussion of mental illness and treatments, and explicit smut. MDNI.Ā 
There are some difficult topics in this story and they are handled as delicately as possible, but proceed with caution if anything here might be upsetting.
Word count: 13k
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The headphones arenā€™t working today.
Theyā€™re charged. You made sure of it before you left your apartment today. Theyā€™re also connected. You can hear the music just fine. However, you can hear everything else. So much for noise canceling, you think, huffing as you crank the volume.Ā 
The subway is busy this morning. It was your mistake, really. You usually catch the earlier pickup on this line, but youā€™re running late and so is everyone else it seems. Some passengers sleepily doze off. The man across from you has his face hiding behind a newspaper but you can tell his head keeps dipping and then sharply snapping back up.Ā 
Next to you, thereā€™s a chatty group of teenagers, seemingly on the way to school from the looks of their uniforms. Youā€™re only in your late 20s, but you canā€™t fathom having the energy they have at 7:30 in the morning without a single drop of caffeine. They chat animatedly. One slides a skateboard back and forth under his feet while heā€™s seated, and it bumps into your boot on occasion, not that he notices. The one standing to face them is probably only doing that because heā€™s gesticulating wildly as he tells a story. The punchline must be good because it brings the others to riotous laughter that earns glares from sleepy passengers, including the old guy eyeing them disapprovingly over his newspaper. You arenā€™t even annoyed by them, honestly.Ā 
Itā€™s actually the Joseon era soldier next to you thatā€™s annoying you. You swallow another sigh when he pokes you for the dozenth time since sitting down. Noise cancelling headphones canā€™t do much about a ghost trying to speak directly into your mind. Apple, Bose, Sony, Raycon, Beats, as well as a ton of lesser known brands - not a single one of them could truly help you with that and youā€™d tried them all.Ā 
You do your best to not show any reaction to the next jab of his boney finger in your arm. Youā€™ve found itā€™s better this way. Most of them eventually go away. If you give any indication that you can hear or see them, they may never leave. Thatā€™s how youā€™ve acquired a few stragglers over the years.Ā 
This guy is persistent, though. Some of them have a good sense that you can see them, no matter how good your poker face is. ā€œI know you can hear me,ā€ he prods again. You donā€™t so much as blink, years of practice having prepared you for this painfully long ride to work.Ā 
Blessedly, the tin can youā€™re zooming in squeaks to a stop and youā€™re the first one to stand and get to the door. You donā€™t know if the soldier follows you, and you donā€™t look back lest you give away that you could see him. Life is much easier when you donā€™t give such a secret away.
The walk to your office building is short, only a few blocks and you make it just in time. Seungkwan raises an eyebrow from his desk. ā€œYou were almost late,ā€ he says, like you donā€™t know. You have a love-hate relationship with him. Heā€™s been your teammate for years now and neither of you sugar coat your conversations anymore.Ā 
ā€œAlmost. Cut me some slack,ā€ you huff, tossing off your coat and grabbing your laptop from your bag. Seungkwan stands to meet you, since you both are starting the day with a meeting.Ā 
ā€œI donā€™t cut anyone slack,ā€ Seungkwan snorts. Though you can tell heā€™s just giving you a hard time, you give a look that must be a little sobering. ā€œRough morning?ā€ He asks with a tiny bit of sympathy.Ā 
ā€œSomething like that,ā€ you mumble, stepping into the elevator. ā€œLetā€™s get this over with so I can have some coffee.ā€
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You werenā€™t always like this. Until the age of 19, you were perfectly normal. You werenā€™t super outgoing, but you had a number of friends despite your spells of shyness. You had hobbies and played sports and were a good student. ā€˜Well adjustedā€™, is what your therapist called it when you had described all of this.Ā 
Then, there was the accident. You canā€™t think about it much. When you told your therapist, Jeonghan, that, he had just raised an eyebrow. ā€œBecause itā€™s hard to think about?ā€
His question wasnā€™t unkind, but youā€™d not grown used to his somewhat blunt technique in therapy yet, so it made you feel defensive. ā€œNo, because I literally donā€™t remember it. Thereā€™s a blank space of time from when I was driving and everything was fine to when I woke up in the hospital. Everything was normal, and then suddenly it wasnā€™t.ā€
Jeonghan had pursed his lips thoughtfully, drumming his pen on his notebook every now and then. ā€œDo you lose spaces of time like that often?ā€Ā 
Youā€™d sucked in a breath, trying to stifle the panic crawling up your throat. You didnā€™t want to be here anyway, didnā€™t truly believe in the power of therapy at the time and felt like this was a waste of time and money. You didnā€™t want him to scribble down a bunch of notes like a death sentence, or tell you youā€™re crazy and prescribe mind-numbing medication for you, or, if you were really honest about the things you had been experiencing, send you to a psych ward for an involuntary hold. You know youā€™d sound crazy and you didnā€™t know how quickly and severely Jeonghan would react to it. He was relatively new to practicing as a therapist at the time, but he was sharp.Ā 
So youā€™d shrugged, swallowing the panic and said, ā€œOccasionally, but nothing like the accident.ā€Ā 
Jeonghan had, thankfully, just nodded and not clicked his pen to write anything. He changed the subject and youā€™d been thankful to hang onto your secret for a while longer.Ā 
The accident itself was straightforward, though you canā€™t remember it. At least, thatā€™s what everyone told you. Your parents, the police, the nurses and doctors. All of them said it was just a tragic accident. You were driving home from college for winter break, your sedan packed to the brim with luggage for the month youā€™d be home, as well as presents, already wrapped with bows neatly tied around them. It was late at night and the road was coated in a full sheet of snow and maybe even a little bit of ice. Ultimately, it was the other car that slid first, according to police, but it doesnā€™t matter because it could have just as easily been you. Both cars ended up in a ditch and there were injuries on both sides. You heard there was also a death associated with the accident, but no information was ever released about the specifics.Ā 
But, devastating as all of that was, it was really the least of your worries. One minute you were driving with music blasting and another minute you were waking up, blinking up at the speckled tile ceiling of your hospital room. Your parents were frantic, asking you how you felt and what you needed. You remember feeling dazed as you try to make your eyes focus because nothing makes sense. Not the light because it was dark the last time you remember, not your parentsā€™ panicked eyes, not the multiple IVs in your arm and the ache in your body, and not the old woman in a hospital gown standing just inside your open door.Ā 
You remember she looked sad, which is perhaps not an unusual thing for a hospital, but you remember tilting your sore head while you looked at her, ignoring the prodding and soothing that your parents were doing. She wasnā€™t asking for help. She didnā€™t look lost, exactly. Your eyes widen when a nurse walks in and totally ignores her, even though it seemed to you that she practically bumped into her as she breezed in. The nurse approaches you with a sweet smile, asking you how you are.Ā 
You remember narrowing your eyes at the nurse, anger simmering because the woman obviously needed something and it was rude to ignore her. ā€œYou should help her first,ā€ you say, pointing to the old woman. The old woman shakes her head at you, and you start to understand why when your parents and the nurse turn and glance around the room, before looking back at you, confused.Ā 
ā€œWho, sweetie?ā€ Your father asks gently.Ā 
ā€œThe woman, right there,ā€ you say, pointing to the figure.Ā 
Your parents look between each other, concerned, but the nurse shakes her head gently with a smile. ā€œItā€™s probably the morphine. This happens all the time.ā€ The nurse starts peppering you with questions. How do you feel? What hurts and how much does it hurt on a scale of one to ten? You answer all of these questions with a dry mouth because the old woman is still standing in the edge of the room, watching. Sheā€™s still there when the nurse gives you another dose of morphine and you eventually doze off again.
And it wasnā€™t just that one old woman. There were no less than ten mysterious visitors in just a few days in the hospital. You tried to talk to some of them, and some talked back, but most moved through the hospital aimlessly. You saw them in your room, much like the old woman. You saw them when you went for a walk around the floor. You saw them when you were wheeled down to the basement for an X-ray. You saw them on your way out to the car after you were discharged. Your parents would regularly ask you what you were looking at, like they didnā€™t see them too. And of course they didnā€™t. You just hadnā€™t come to terms with that so soon, head still cloudy from all of it.
After that, you were never really alone. Not really, anyway. Not even in your dreams could you be by yourself. You had to take a couple semesters off of school just to get a grasp on this new reality - to be able to sort out who was alive around you and what wasnā€™t. Or what emotions were yours and what wasnā€™t. Or what physical pain was yours and what wasnā€™t. There was often no rhyme or reason to it and you coped by yourself for the most part. You stopped mentioning things to your parents out of fear of worrying them, because you knew somewhere deep down in your soul that no doctor they took you to could really help. You kind of thought that not even a psych ward could save you. When you went back to school, you were antisocial, if only because you could never quite be sure that the person that was talking to you was alive.Ā 
That antisocial behavior carried into every other part of your life too, which is why, last year, your parents encouraged you to try therapy. They said it was okay to have a tight knit group of friends, but that a single friend wasnā€™t quite what they had in mind when they said that. Not that they didnā€™t love Junhui, but even they were aware that Junhui was only around still because he had the patience of a saint, despite your apparent 180 in personality. They thought youā€™d been flirting with depression or perhaps some other disorder that was causing this antisocial behavior.Ā 
You couldnā€™t tell them that you had a couple other friends too throughout the years, mostly because they were dead. So you took their suggestion and made an appointment, if only to be able to say youā€™d given it a shot.Ā 
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You drag into Jeonghanā€™s office, plopping down on his couch, grabbing a pillow to hug to your body. He calls this your defensive position, and maybe it is, but you tell him that he should decorate his office so it doesnā€™t feel so cold. Then maybe you wouldnā€™t be so defensive.Ā 
Jeonghan gives you a wry smile over his computer monitor. ā€œOne minute,ā€ he says. Jeonghan is not your typical therapist by a long shot, which is the only reason you still keep your weekly appointment. He doesnā€™t do the stuffy button down shirts, or the glasses he can peer over at you, or the ā€˜how does that make you feelā€™ bullshit. He wears jeans and a baggy t-shirt or hoodie every day, only wears glasses as a fashion statement, and just straight up tells you how he thinks you feel, encouraging you to correct him. You never thought youā€™d threaten to throw hands at a therapist, but you also never thought that a therapist would laugh when you said such a thing.Ā 
Jeonghan grabs his notebook and pen, plopping down into the couch opposite you. ā€œSo, howā€™s it going?ā€ He says casually.Ā 
You shrug. ā€œOkay, business as usual really.ā€
He nods but you can tell by the way his eyes sharpen that he doesnā€™t believe you and wants to be convinced. You see that look regularly from him. ā€œTell me about it. How was work? Whatā€™d you do this weekend? All that stuff.ā€
You sigh, because this is the part of therapy that you especially hate - the chit chat. ā€œFine. Just meetings and working on some projects. Nothing exciting. And this weekend, I ended up hanging out with Junhui.ā€
Jeonghan nods. ā€œGood,ā€ he says, mostly because heā€™s probably glad you didnā€™t self-isolate the moment you got off work on Friday. ā€œWhat did you and Junhui do?ā€
ā€œJust ordered dinner, watched some movies.ā€
Jeonghan rolled his eyes. ā€œWhat happened to going out this weekend? I thought we agreed.ā€
You raise a hand in defense. ā€œThat was all Junā€™s idea! Not mine!ā€ You had agreed to make an attempt to go out somewhere this weekend, just to get out of the house. But Jun had just shown up and made himself comfortable on your couch, and the night seemed to be decided. Could you have mentioned that you should go out? Yes, and Jun would have done it in a heartbeat. But you didnā€™t because you just didnā€™t want to.
Jeonghan adopts a smirk. ā€œYouā€™re feisty today. Tell me why.ā€ You groan because you hate when he says that, but heā€™s waving you off. ā€œHave you been eating like normal?ā€ You nod. ā€œHave you had any stressors, more than normal?ā€ You shake your head. ā€œHave you been sleeping?ā€ You stall out before you can think of a good lie and your silence is deafening. Jeonghanā€™s smirk deepens. ā€œGotcha!ā€ His smirk clears though and heā€™s serious. ā€œWhatā€™s been going on there?ā€
You shrug, defeated. ā€œThe usual? Canā€™t fall asleep, canā€™t stay asleep.ā€Ā 
ā€œThoughts are too loud,ā€ he muses, because heā€™s heard the excuse before from you. ā€œWhat were you toiling over?ā€ You donā€™t know what to say, so you purse your lips, blinking at him. Jeonghan lets a few beats pass and then sighs, putting his pen down and looking at his watch. ā€œThis is an early shut down, even for you.ā€ Jeonghan stares at you for a second and this might be the first time that youā€™ve ever seen him hesitate to say something. Finally he says, ā€œYou know, you get out of therapy what you put in. If you donā€™t give me anything to work with, I canā€™t help you untangle anything. So what makes you constantly bite your tongue here?ā€
You snort humorlessly, because you canā€™t help it really. ā€œI donā€™t know. You calling me crazy. You giving me medication. You sending me to the psych ward.ā€Ā 
Jeonghan blinks a few times and then puts his notepad and pen aside - a sign that this part of the conversation is sort of ā€˜off the recordā€™. ā€œI would not call you crazy, ever. Itā€™s an unprofessional term in my career path. I canā€™t prescribe medications since Iā€™m not a psychiatrist, so all I can do is refer you. And the only thing that warrants a visit to the psych ward is if you might be a danger to yourself or others, in which case Iā€™d encourage you to ask for help.ā€
You blink at him, looking for any signs of deception but there are none. He looks incredibly patient and serious. He doesnā€™t even have a snarky reminder that the clock (and your bill) is ticking.Ā 
You think about how your parents worry about you. How Jun tries to ease you into social situations every chance he gets. How you donā€™t spend as much time speaking to living people as you should because youā€™re too busy trying to ignore non-living people. How you can tell that you come off as rude all the time, and it stings when someone says something about it because you truly donā€™t know how else to be. You wet your lips even though it doesnā€™t really help because your mouth has gone dry. You want a fix and Jeonghan is offering to help.Ā 
You squeeze your eyes closed as your mouth moves before you really know what youā€™re going to say. ā€œNot to quote a movie from the 90s, but I see dead people.ā€
There are a few long beats of silence. You open your eyes to see Jeonghanā€™s widen slightly as he nods. A slow smile comes across his face. ā€œNow, thatā€™s something I havenā€™t heard before here.ā€
You raise a finger at him, pointing angrily. ā€œI swear to god, Yoon Jeonghan, if you have me committed, Iā€™ll be so mad.ā€
He nods with a smile at your threat, settling deeper into his chair. ā€œNo need for any of that. I canā€™t ask for a seance in the psych ward.ā€ You screech and pelt the pillow at him. He deflects it, letting it roll into the floor, raising his hands in surrender. ā€œOkay, fine, sorry! Start from the beginning.ā€
And you do, or you try to anyway. He lets the timer run over and cancels his next appointment, saying that a breakthrough like this is worth it.Ā 
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Youā€™ve barely been asleep for an hour and you hear a little ā€˜pssstā€™ in your ear. Your eyes squint tightly, willing yourself not to respond. A little poke on your shoulder accompanies the next ā€˜pssstā€™. You sigh and hear the person chuckle. ā€œI know youā€™re awake.ā€Ā 
You roll so your face is buried into the pillow, grumbling. ā€œYou are the most annoying dead person I think Iā€™ve ever met.ā€
ā€œI prefer the term ā€˜lost soulā€™. ā€˜Dead personā€™ sounds so serious,ā€ Vernon says, plopping down to lay across the foot of your bed.Ā 
ā€œI just got to sleep, you asshole,ā€ you huff, curling up tighter into the blanket.Ā 
ā€œYou werenā€™t sleeping,ā€ Vernon said simply. ā€œYou were working again.ā€
You sigh into your pillow. Youā€™re working all the time, it seems.Ā 
You met Vernon in the hospital - surgery gone wrong, he said. But he got curious after heā€™d seen you getting wheeled out of the hospital to the car and tested it out himself. He found that he could leave the hospital, unlike a lot of other souls apparently, and didnā€™t like the term ā€˜deadā€™ very much if only because in a lot of ways, heā€™d kept on living life. He rode the subway often. He poked around in record shops. He liked to hang out in cafes if only to smell the coffee, though he couldnā€™t exactly consume it anymore.Ā 
Oh, and heā€™d followed you home to your parentsā€™ house after you were discharged. Youā€™d hobbled into your room late at night to find him lounging on your bed. Heā€™d looked up at you from the book heā€™d claimed from your bookshelf and said, ā€œnice room.ā€ And when youā€™d moved into your own place, heā€™d let himself in there too.Ā 
He wasnā€™t there all the time, naturally, what with the wandering he liked to do. But heā€™d drop in with regularity. Sometimes Junhui would be over, none the wiser that Vernon was sitting in the arm chair in the corner watching TV with them. If anyone was going to hang out forever like this, Vernon was a good one to have because he didnā€™t make your life hard. He didnā€™t confuse you in social settings. He didnā€™t knock things over to alarm others around you. And he did give you privacy to be by yourself - or for you to try to be by yourself, anyway.Ā 
One night, a couple months after your accident, youā€™d woken up with a start in the middle of the night and Vernon was looking at you from your desk, concerned, Netflix still playing quietly in the background. ā€œI think you were moving people on in your sleep,ā€ he explains. He said he was in some sort of limbo and couldnā€™t see it exactly, but he could feel it. He said it was like a line out of the door when you dozed off, waiting to ask your open, relaxed mind for help. ā€œYou need to lock that down or theyā€™ll bleed you dry.ā€
But you were helpless to do that when you were asleep, so Vernon had taken to calling it ā€˜workingā€™. Over the years, heā€™d started to wake you up when he felt that others were taking too much from you. You werenā€™t getting valuable rest either way, but when you were awake you could protect yourself.Ā 
Still, you grumbled some more into the pillow. ā€œMy therapist told me to ignore you, you know?ā€
Vernon snorts. ā€œYou can ignore the others, but Iā€™m special.ā€ Vernon paused, quirking an eyebrow. ā€œSince when did he know about your little gift?ā€
ā€œYesterday,ā€ you sigh, rolling onto your back and propping up against the headboard. Youā€™re resigned to not sleeping at this point, so you might as well look at Vernon while you talk.Ā 
ā€œAnd he told you to ignore us?ā€ Vernon asked curiously, looking at you from the foot of the bed.Ā 
You shrug. ā€œFor now. Heā€™s going to do some research and see what techniques I can try. Itā€™s not like I know anyone else that has this so-called gift that can give me advice. So, therapist it is.ā€Ā 
Vernon hums. ā€œGotta start somewhere, I guess. Iā€™m glad youā€™re asking for help. I worry about you.ā€
You frown, because heā€™s said it before, and heā€™s not the only one. ā€œI know. I just wish I could go back to what it was like before sometimes - when I was normal.ā€Ā 
Vernon seems to be thinking hard. ā€œI donā€™t know. Iā€™d like to think things happen for a reason.ā€
ā€œBut thereā€™s no good reason.ā€ Frustration bleeds into your words. ā€œI got into an accident in the middle of a snow storm and now Iā€™m some psychic freak that canā€™t determine whatā€™s real and whatā€™s not most of the time.ā€
Your foot gets tugged sharply. ā€œStop talking about yourself like that,ā€ Vernon scolds. ā€œBesides, how many times do I have to tell you? Itā€™s not ā€˜real or notā€™. Itā€™s ā€˜seen and unseenā€™. You just happen to see a lot more than the average person.ā€
Your eyes prick with tears and you throw the blanket over your head. Jeonghan calls you a professional bottler. You donā€™t like to react with emotion to much of anything because if you let something trickle out it will become a flood when the dam breaks. It feels like there would be no way to turn off the flow once you start to let it drip. Vernon has seen enough of your struggles so you donā€™t want to burden him with it tonight. Still, he pats your foot a few times in a ā€˜there, thereā€™ motion, like he knows.Ā 
From underneath the blanket, you sniffle. ā€œAre you sleeping down there tonight?ā€Ā 
Vernon takes the hint and you feel the bed dip next to you. He stays on his side like always, never encroaching on your space or making you uncomfortable. You wish you could be alone, but if you have to be with someone, Vernon is a good person to be with. He lets you doze off and only wakes you up one more time throughout the night when the line out of the door gets out of hand.Ā 
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ā€œThis isnā€™t working,ā€ you mumble sleepily.Ā 
ā€œWeā€™ve barely started,ā€ Jeonghan says patiently from his chair. Itā€™s been nearly two months since youā€™d finally told him your big secret, and he really had tried to hold up of his end of the bargain. Heā€™d given you a laundry list of things to try, and urged to you to really put some effort in. His exact words for each instruction was, ā€œDonā€™t half ass it, please.ā€Ā 
You have to admit, some of it you did half ass. The yoga and tai-chi bored you to death after only a couple sessions each. Jeonghan did refer you to a psychiatrist to discuss your sleep issues and this psychiatrist had provided some medication - which had been used a couple times and then stuffed into your medicine cabinet because you didnā€™t like how it made you feel. Journaling had been okay, at least in the beginning. Youā€™d felt relieved to get the whole thing on the page at first, but the relief was short-lived and you hadnā€™t picked the notebook up in nearly a week.Ā 
Todayā€™s experiment was meditation. Jeonghan had gone to a training for it and wanted to see if youā€™d respond at all to it. He turned the lights off, only a little sunshine peeking through the blinds, and had talked you into a ā€˜meditative stateā€™. Youā€™d snorted when he said that was the first step, but he pinned you with a look that said, ā€˜come on, work with me hereā€™. So youā€™d laid down on the couch and closed your eyes, focusing on your breathing like he said. But, you were thinking that maybe you had only relaxed because it was dark and the couch was comfy and you were sleep deprived - aka nothing to do with his guided meditation.
ā€œTell me what you feel. Do a body scan.ā€
You feel your eyebrows pinch because his voice sounds soft and small and you donā€™t really know what he means by that. ā€œWhat do you mean? Like physically, emotionally, mentally?ā€
ā€œAny of it. What sticks out?ā€ Jeonghan gently prompts.Ā 
You sigh. ā€œI donā€™t know. Itā€™s loud in here.ā€ Youā€™ve grown comfortable admitting things like that to Jeonghan because heā€™s really not treated you like youā€™re crazy a single time. When you make comments like that, he doesnā€™t look around or pause to see if he can hear it too.Ā 
ā€œSort through the noise, if you can. Get to you, not the others.ā€ This frustrates you and you feel your body begin to tense up again. You havenā€™t been alone in your head since you were 19. You donā€™t know how to fucking sort through the noise. If you had, you would have already done it. ā€œY/N, breathe,ā€ Jeonghan reminds. You follow the command, remembering that heā€™d asked you to trust the process. ā€œLetā€™s focus on the physical for now. What do you feel? Pain, pressure, weakness, anything of the sort.ā€
Your eyebrows are pinched again because his voice is getting softer and you canā€™t figure out why. His office isnā€™t that big and you wonder why heā€™s whispering. Your mouth kind of moves before you realize it. ā€œNeck hurts.ā€Ā 
ā€œIs that you? Or is that someone else?ā€ His voice is so quiet that you have to strain to hear it.Ā 
ā€œMe, I think. It doesnā€™t feel like aā€¦ wound. Just an ache, like I slept on it wrong.ā€Ā 
ā€œOkay,ā€ he mumbles. ā€œWhat about emotionally?ā€
ā€œConfused,ā€ you mumble. Jeonghan hums distantly, questioning your answer. ā€œYou sound really far away.ā€
Thereā€™s silence for a while and then finally, he says, ā€œAnd mentally?ā€
Your breath catches, even in your relaxed state. Itā€™sā€¦ quiet. Not silent because thereā€™s still a low murmur, like there are people talking behind a closed door, but itā€™s so blissful that your eyes prick with tears behind your eyelids. Jeonghan calls your name again, asking for an answer. ā€œQuiet.ā€ You can hear your own voice for once and it sounds totally foreign to you. But you can hear it and it makes the tears pour.Ā 
You donā€™t realize that the light has clicked back on until Jeonghan shakes your shoulder lightly a few times. ā€œY/N, come back.ā€Ā 
It feels like youā€™re slamming back into your body and the rush of sound and sensation is overwhelming. You pop up and cover your ears with your hands. Jeonghan eases you to sit up, leaning your head between your knees. Youā€™re a snotty, teary-eyed mess when you sit up. ā€œWhat the fuck was that?ā€ You donā€™t hear your own voice anymore, but you can tell it doesnā€™t come out right based on the scratch in your throat. Jeonghan silently hands you a wad of tissues from where heā€™s squatting next to you. ā€œJeonghan.ā€ You press, wiping your nose.Ā 
Jeonghan looks pensive, maybe even a little bit anxious. Itā€™s an unsettling sight to see on your therapist of all people. ā€œThis might be above my pay grade for now. But I have an idea and I need you to hear me out.ā€Ā 
You watch him stand, going to his desk and picking up a folded paper, handing it to you when he comes back. You sniffle, glancing up at him suspiciously when you take it. You open it and scoff, putting your head in your hand, crinkling the paper slightly in the other fist. ā€œWhy the fuck would I do that after what just happened?ā€Ā 
Jeonghan is sitting back down in his seat across from you, albeit on the edge of it, arms propped up on his knees. ā€œI didnā€™t expect you to respond at all to meditation. A lot of people donā€™t, at least not the way you just did. If anything, most people get sleepy. But youā€¦ drifted.ā€ He doesnā€™t seem to like that he doesnā€™t know how to describe it, like it doesnā€™t fit cleanly into any diagnostic criteria heā€™s familiar with. He nods to the paper. ā€œGive it a shot. If you canā€™t get anything out of it, we go back to the drawing board.ā€Ā 
ā€œSay you didnā€™t believe me until now,ā€ you snap through the exhaustion, avoiding committing to the flyer in your hand.Ā 
ā€œI didnā€™t. Not really, anyway,ā€ he bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. He sighs like heā€™s hesitant to say anything more, but his exasperation is clear. ā€œI was actually thinking about a schizophrenia diagnosis but wasnā€™t ready to mention it. You started presenting symptoms around the age that Iā€™d expect - the voices, the visions, the breaks from time and reality. It was all checking out and I was starting to think the accident really didnā€™t have much to do with it. But that,ā€ he points to where your head just was on the couch a few minutes ago, ā€œwas not schizophrenia. That was something they donā€™t teach in a psychology program. At least, not with any sort of seriousness. Itā€™s all talk therapy for the most part.ā€Ā 
You hide your face in your hands - you did the moment he mentioned such a diagnosis. Itā€™s not that youā€™d be ashamed per se because it would be nice to put a name to whatever this is, but you recognize the stigma around it if only because of how you responded to the suggestion. ā€œI donā€™t want meds and I donā€™t want a psych ward,ā€ you stress through gritted teeth. ā€œAnd Iā€™m not a danger to myself or others. But you probably think Iā€™m crazy.ā€
ā€œNo, Y/N, I donā€™t think youā€™re crazy. Youā€™re sound of mind in literally every other way,ā€ Jeonghan insists sternly. ā€œNo meds if you donā€™t want them, and no psych ward unless something changes pretty dramatically. Justā€¦ humor me and let me research a few things while youā€™re gone, okay? Iā€™m not giving up on you yet.ā€Ā 
You recognize that heā€™s teasing you, trying to get you to laugh, but you canā€™t find it in yourself to crack a smile when the timer goes off and you grab your things. ā€œDonā€™t cancel on me,ā€ he calls as you leave the office, but you think he might kind of mean it.Ā 
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You land in Jeju at approximately 4pm a week and a half later. You canā€™t really believe youā€™ve agreed to do this, but the plane tickets had been purchased and the hotel had been booked, and you didnā€™t have a good reason not to hear Jeonghan out. Youā€™d left his office a week and a half ago, totally shaken, tossing the wrinkled flyer onto the kitchen counter when you got home.Ā 
But Junhui had come over that night, somehow sensing that you might need some company when he called. Heā€™d been throwing out the takeout boxes after dinner when he came across the flyer. ā€œA wellness retreat?ā€ He asked quizzically, peering out of the kitchen.Ā 
Youā€™d grumbled from the couch. ā€œYeah, my therapist thinks I should give it a shot.ā€Ā 
Junhui had come back to the living room with the flyer, reading over it. Then he shrugged, tossing it onto your coffee table. ā€œMaybe you should. Might end up being lame, but itā€™s worth a try, right?ā€ Youā€™d huffed when you talked to Vernon the next night and heā€™d said pretty much the same thing.Ā 
So, youā€™d taken off of work for the week, booked your travel and lodgings, and started packing. And you felt so stupid about it as you walked into the ocean side resort. You always felt like this kind of stuff was such woo-woo bullshit that you couldnā€™t take it seriously. But here you are, stuck here having paid for the retreat for the next week. It would cost an arm and a leg to change your flight back home if this turned out as badly as you thought it would. When you whined about this on the way to the airport, Jun had shrugged about that too, telling you to enjoy the beach while you were there then. It was a vacation either way.Ā 
So, you checked into your hotel and crashed for the night. There was great irony in the fact that such a spiritualist event would be hosted at a haunted hotel, because it certainly was that. You got very little sleep. Maybe it was because you were ā€˜workingā€™, but Vernon wasnā€™t here to wake you up and tell you. He wasnā€™t sure how far he could ā€˜travelā€™ and you didnā€™t dare ask. He liked his daily habits too much anyway to follow you here.Ā 
Early the next morning, you drag out of bed, pulling on some comfortable clothes. The kickoff for this retreat was early, starting with a guided meditation on the beach at sunrise. Youā€™d snorted at the thought back home, but the air was kind of nice when you stepped out on the beach in the dark. Others were already there, some congregating, while some claimed a spot for the meditation starting in a few minutes. You found space in the back, if only to ensure that you could sneak away if you felt like it.Ā 
The instructor was a frail woman, a total hippie with an airy, zen-like voice that made your eye twitch. She started the guided meditation with things like ā€˜settle inā€™ and ā€˜feel the waves wash over youā€™. You roll your eyes behind your eyelids, simply trying to sit still for the next twenty minutes. When the instructor releases everyone and tells them to take their time, youā€™re the first one up, brushing off the sand. You hear a soft laugh from beside you.Ā 
ā€œDidnā€™t like this meditation?ā€Ā 
You blink. The man next to you is cast in low light since the sun has only started to rise and itā€™s entirely unfair how ethereal he looks when he smiles lightly up at you. You frown down at him where heā€™s still sitting. ā€œWould it be offensive if I said no?ā€
He chuckles again, standing up. Heā€™s taller than you now, and you crane your neck up rather than down to see him. Heā€™s got a lean, muscular build, all angles that are crazy attractive. But the soft brown eyes are truly the killer. You want to laugh because how could you ever ā€˜clear your mindā€™ around a guy like this. Maybe thatā€™s why the meditation didnā€™t work. ā€œMaybe donā€™t say it in front of the instructor. Sheā€™s sort of an expert in the field. Iā€™ve been to a few of her sessions before.ā€Ā 
ā€œOh,ā€ you say lamely, glancing to the crowd thatā€™s beginning to stand and congregate, hoping that no one overheard you.
He smiles warmly. ā€œIā€™m Minghao.ā€
ā€œY/N. I take it you come to these often then?ā€ It occurs to you how weird it is that youā€™re seeking out a conversation with this guy, because you havenā€™t done that in years. But he has this air about him that is sort of magnetic. You feel lame when that word crosses your mind, but you donā€™t have a better word for it and youā€™ll never utter any of that aloud anyway.Ā 
Minghao shrugs. ā€œOn occasion. Mostly, I practice by myself though.ā€ He tilts his head when he gives you an amused look. ā€œAm I wrong to guess youā€™re pretty new to this?ā€
You huffed out a laugh, crossing your arms. You arenā€™t sure if the defensive pose is because of how weird you feel about this conversation or that youā€™d left your sweater in your room. ā€œWhat gave it away?ā€
ā€œWell, you squirmed the whole time, and then jumped up as soon as she said she was done. Itā€™s kind of a sign that it didnā€™t work for you.ā€ The crowd is starting to move back to the hotel, and the sleepy vibe is gone, replaced by some excited chatter. You remember that very few people here are probably quite as skeptical as you are. Minghao watches you watch the crowd for a minute, before speaking up again. ā€œWanna have breakfast with me? Itā€™s nice to have someone to chat with at these sort of things, since you spend so much time at things like this in your own head.ā€
You want to laugh, because you are never alone and could only dream of what that feels like now, but between that stupid magnetism that he has and the fact that it would be rude to turn his offer down, you nod. ā€œSure.ā€ He gestures in an ā€˜after youā€™ sort of motion and you both trail behind the crowd into the hotel.Ā 
You both find a seat in the corner of the hotel restaurant and order. He doesnā€™t bat an eye when you donā€™t order the traditionally healthy stuff at a wellness retreat of all places. Youā€™re even a little relieved when he simply asks for the same, ignoring the judging look from the fitness guru of a woman sitting at the table next to you two.Ā 
Once you both have some coffee in front of you, he gives you an entertained look. ā€œSo, can I ask why you came to a retreat like this if you donā€™t buy into any of it?ā€
You raise an eyebrow at him. ā€œWho said I donā€™t believe in it?ā€ He gives you a dry look that makes you scoff, even though you arenā€™t all that annoyed. ā€œYouā€™re right, Iā€™m new to it. Iā€™m just seeing if itā€™s something that will actually work for me.ā€
He hums, nodding between sips of coffee. ā€œAny luck yet? Outside of this retreat, I mean.ā€
You resist squirming in your seat, thinking about Jeonghanā€™s little experiment last week. ā€œYes and no?ā€
Minghao nods, his smile turning wry. ā€œYou donā€™t like the small talk, huh?ā€
This makes you snort out a laugh, earning another glare from the woman at the table next to you both that you ignore. ā€œNo, Iā€™m not great at it.ā€Ā 
ā€œI can work with that,ā€ he says simply. Behind him something catches your eye. A man trudges in, totally soaked. Your first thought is a mishap too close to the shore, because heā€™s dripping small puddles throughout the restaurant hall as he shuffles. But you quickly realize what youā€™re seeing and that no one else is seeing it. A waiter breezes right past the man and doesnā€™t so much as slip in the puddles heā€™s creating. You donā€™t feel anything from this guy exactly, but itā€™s not hard to figure it out. Heā€™s dead, probably a drowning victim.Ā 
A hand waves in front of you and you snap to attention. Minghaoā€™s face is some sort of mixture of confused and concerned. ā€œAre you okay? What is it?ā€
You blink at him, trying to focus on him, rather than the man thatā€™s still trudging through the hall and into the kitchen behind Minghao, leaving a trail of water behind him. ā€œYeah, sorry. What were you saying?ā€
Minghao just looks at you curiously and the look is only broken when the waitress brings your food and offers more coffee.Ā 
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Minghao becomes your guide for the day. Workshops start at 9am and when a staff member for the retreat hands out a flyer for todayā€™s options at breakfast, youā€™re kind of surprised when Minghao asks what you want to do for the day. You must have looked confused because he just gives you a little entertained look and says, ā€œunless you want to go on your own.ā€ You didnā€™t. So you let him talk you through some of the options. Admittedly, you arenā€™t too impressed by the sound of any of them, but he correctly assumes youā€™re a beginner and picks some that he thinks will work for you.Ā 
9am is a lecture called ā€˜Getting out of your own wayā€™. Itā€™s another super zen instructor and you cross your arms and lean back in your seat when he starts. But by the end of it, youā€™re squirming because this feels like some kind of therapy shit that hits too close to home. You even feel a slice of anger sometimes because itā€™s not you thatā€™s in your way - itā€™s everyone else, namely the dead. You canā€™t imagine how Jeonghan or anyone here would love to dissect such a blame-shifting, defensive response, so you bite your tongue until it bleeds. You regret coming by the time the session ends at 10:30.Ā 
The 11:15 session is called ā€˜Trust your intuitionā€™. Thereā€™s a short lecture, but then thereā€™s an experiment to do with the partner next to you at each table. Each pair is handed a deck of cards. Minghao shuffles them well and then slides the top card to you, face down. The rule is that you canā€™t peek, but you can touch the top of the card if youā€™d like. When Minghao slides the first one to you, you look at him incredulously and say ā€œIā€™m not a mind reader.ā€ You recognize that thatā€™s not quite the truth, but you have no clue which card is sitting in front of you.Ā 
Minghao wears a sort of secretive smile, looking highly entertained. ā€œItā€™s not meant to be a quiz to stress about. Just try it. Close your eyes and touch the top of the card.ā€ When you donā€™t move, he nods again. ā€œHumor me, Y/N. You donā€™t have to be good at it, just try it.ā€
Youā€™d scoffed, closing your eyes and placing your finger tips on the card. Nothing comes to you so you sigh, throwing your other hand up in exasperation. ā€œJack of diamonds,ā€ falls out of your mouth as a guess.
ā€œOkay, turn it over,ā€ Minghao says encouragingly. You expect to have picked quite literally any of the 51 other cards, but when you flip it over, a jack of diamonds greets you. You freeze, face pinched in confusion, because how in the fuck did you do that? Mingaho raises an eyebrow, a flash of excitement on his face. ā€œHow about another one?ā€ Ten cards and ten correct guess later, you feel your eyes water from something akin to shock. Minghao must notice that you need a break and he slides you the deck. ā€œMy turn.ā€
After lunch, the 2pm session is ā€˜Facing your fearsā€™. The hotel has allowed the retreat to take over the courtyard, setting up ropes and a climbing wall. Youā€™d never been particularly afraid of heights and youā€™d once been quite athletic, so you breeze through this. So does Minghao, though you arenā€™t surprised based on his physique. You do your best not to focus on his arms or the way his shirtless back flexes when itā€™s his turn to climb. You arenā€™t one to be enamored by someoneā€™s appearance like this often, so you squash the thought. Heā€™s been nice, and patient more than most people ever try to be with you, but he does not need to know that you think anymore than that. Youā€™ve known him for a whopping eight hours.Ā 
At 3:30, the session is actually a fair that has been set up in one of the event halls at the hotel. There are tons of booths for all kinds of metaphysical stuff. Crystals of all kinds, body products meant to relax and rejuvenate, incense, teas, tinctures, and ritual items. Minghao spends a long time looking at the teas, purchasing a number of them. You bite back the smile at how kid-like he is about it, eyes full of excitement when he has you smell one and tells you about it. You tease that he might as well be selling the tea himself.
You linger on a few items, all of which are labeled with the word ā€˜protectionā€™. First, it was a set of crystals that are supposedly meant to clear negative energy. Then it was a box of incense labeled ā€˜spiritual protectionā€™. Then there was an anointing oil labeled for protection magic.Ā 
Minghao watches you pick up each of these items, before putting them back and turn like youā€™re ready to go. You are ready to go because youā€™re truly so far out of your depth with any of this. You feel like youā€™re playing with fire, risking any of these things making your problems worse. On the third time, he doesnā€™t budge when youā€™re ready to leave the booth. Thereā€™s something in his expression that you canā€™t quite decipher. Maybe itā€™s because you donā€™t really know him that well, but you wonder if you could ever read a look like that because itā€™s so layered. ā€œIf youā€™re interested in protection, you should try out those things. At worst, they donā€™t do anything for you.ā€Ā 
The woman that runs this booth clears her throat behind him, like sheā€™s offended at the implication that her wares donā€™t work. But Minghao still doesnā€™t budge and you look back down at the little bottle of anointing oil, picking it up and rolling it in your hand. This feels like another ā€˜trust the processā€™ moment and you can afford it, so after a few beats you decide to buy it. Minghao guides you back to the booths that had the crystal set and the incense so you can purchase those as well. Youā€™re kind of relieved that he doesnā€™t ask why youā€™re interested in this sort of thing, though you wonder if that question might come before the retreat is over.Ā 
Dinner comes and goes, and then later that night, there is a campfire on the beach. You admittedly arenā€™t into the drumming circle that comes first, but you are very into the marshmallows that are handed out to make sā€™mores. You and Minghao make half a dozen together, one of you holding the graham crackers and chocolate and the other roasting the marshmallow. This earns a few more glares from some of the more hardcore attendees who sneer when the bag of marshmallows comes around to them. Youā€™re discovering that Minghao isnā€™t fazed by much, and itā€™s an attitude that you can appreciate. You wish you could be like that.Ā 
You crawl into bed a little after 11pm and drift off.Ā 
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Just after 2am, you slide open the door to your balcony. The view in front of you is dark, but you can hear and smell the waves, and the breeze is cool. Youā€™ll need the sweater you brought out with you in a bit, but not right now while youā€™re dripping sweat.Ā 
Sometimes, when youā€™re ā€˜workingā€™ in your sleep, you meet someone demanding. Most of the time, you donā€™t even remember or realize what youā€™re doing. There are no flashes of the supposed line out of the door to assist in moving on. No unfamiliar faces that you remember when you wake up.Ā 
But on occasion, someone is desperate to move on and you assume that their urgency wakes you up. Jeonghan says the clinical term is sleep paralysis. The mind wakes up before the body is released from its frozen state. Your eyes are open and youā€™re aware of what youā€™re seeing, but you canā€™t do anything about it. A lot of people experience it, apparently, but Jeonghan says that most of these things are hallucinations - a demon or an old hag hovering over you. Even Jeonghan admits now that your situation is a little different, because yours might not quite be a traditional hallucination. He was hesitant to call it something real, but doesnā€™t utter what you expect, which is the accusatory phrase, ā€˜you think itā€™s realā€™.Ā 
So naturally, seeing the drowned guy from earlier, hovering over you with panicked eyes made your heart beat out of your chest. You have no clue how long it really was, but it seemed like an eternity that you were frozen, watching him gasp for air and try to beg for help. But as it happens sometimes, the moment youā€™re released from your frozen state, the man is gone in a blink of an eye. You have no idea if you moved him on, or if heā€™s still lingering, desperate for help. These are the worst nights, and you know you wonā€™t be going back to sleep anytime soon. In fact, you canā€™t stay in bed for a second longer, least of all in the dark. Your first step after getting out of bed is to turn on all of the lights.
You settle in the wicker chair on the balcony, propping your feet up on the ottoman in front of you, breathing deeply. Youā€™re frustrated. Youā€™d hoped youā€™d show up to something like this and find all the answers to your questions. Maybe it was a high expectation, but a place like this should have had all of the solutions to your problems - after all, theyā€™re the spiritual experts. You feel the frustrated tears flow, but you donā€™t bother wiping them away, just leaning your head back. Your eyes drift closed, though you arenā€™t the least bit tired right now, too wired from what happened a few minutes ago.Ā 
With your eyes closed, you miss the light in the neighboring room flicking on, but your head does snap up when a sliding door opens nearby. Footsteps echo on the balcony next to you and you rush to wipe your face. Youā€™re not in the mood for conversation, least of all any questions, and youā€™re hoping that your neighbor just wants some peace and quiet like you.Ā 
ā€œY/N?ā€Ā 
Your head snaps again, this time to look to the neighboring balcony. Minghao is peering around, looking a little concerned. You didnā€™t know that he was your neighbor. Heā€™d stayed back to talk to someone at the campfire hours ago, so youā€™d walked up to your room alone.Ā 
ā€œAre you okay?ā€ He asks, pulling your attention back.Ā 
ā€œYeah, sorry. I didnā€™t wake you up, did I?ā€
Minghao stares at you for a few beats, like heā€™s trying to read your mind, before he finally says, ā€œNo, you didnā€™t. I was up reading.ā€ He leans on the railing, looking you over. From this position, his arms have you sweating again and you feel stupid for it. Youā€™ve never reacted to a man like this. ā€œPenny for your thoughts?ā€
You laugh, and you wish it held even a little bit of humor. ā€œNo, itā€™s not very ā€˜wellness retreatā€™ of me to share what Iā€™m thinking. It would most definitely kill the vibes. Donā€™t worry about it.ā€Ā 
Minghao shrugs, that flash of humor that heā€™d had all day on his face again. ā€œIā€™d say a wellness retreat is kind of the perfect place for that. You know, healing and relaxation, all that jazz.ā€ Still, he falls silent, sitting in his own wicker chair only six feet from you, separated by the railing of your balconies.Ā 
You have no idea how much time passes when you finally speak up. ā€œHow are you so good at all of this?ā€
You see him look at you through the railing. Itā€™s a look thatā€™s open and says a lot, but the problem is that you canā€™t really decipher any of it. ā€œIā€™m not good at it,ā€ he finally says. ā€œIā€™m just open to it.ā€ You look away from him, chewing on the inside of your cheek. ā€œPlease donā€™t take offense to this, but it seems like maybe youā€™re not open to it. You seem to resist a lot of it.ā€
ā€œI have a lot of practice with that,ā€ you muse, but your expression feels a little off when you look at him again. Like you donā€™t know how to just slap on a smile and let it go.Ā 
He nods understandingly. ā€œItā€™s easy to deny. Itā€™s much harder to just let it be. Painful, even.ā€ He hesitates for a second then finally says, ā€œwhat are you trying to ā€˜let it beā€™?ā€
You give him a rueful smile through the railing. ā€œThatā€™s a pretty soul-baring question.ā€ He shrugs good-naturedly, looking at the dark view in front of you both, seemingly not expecting an answer. You follow his gaze. ā€œIt would make me sound crazy.ā€
ā€œTry me.ā€Ā 
Thereā€™s something so painfully genuine and secure about his tone. When you look back at him through the railing, heā€™s already looking at you and his expression matches his tone. You feel ridiculous and maybe even a little naive when your eyes water because you canā€™t remember someone ever looking at you like that. You donā€™t let a lot of people in, especially total strangers. But thereā€™s something about him that makes you want to start peeling back the layers that you hide behind. You may never see him again after this retreat, and that might be okay because being soul-baring is scary.
You start with the first layer, even though itā€™s a big one. ā€œI see ghosts.ā€
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The next morning starts at 7am. The recommended solo activity for this morning is reflection and journaling. You debate on skipping it because youā€™re running on just a few hours of sleep, but Minghao knocks on your door at 6:45am, urging you to get dressed and join him.Ā 
After you spilled your secret last night, Minghao had just nodded like it was the most normal thing in the world. Youā€™d blanched at his lack of reaction. ā€œWhy are being so casual about this?ā€ Youā€™d asked, anger flooding your voice.
But his easy tone had squashed any anger. ā€œI kind of suspected something. There have been quite a few signs today.ā€Ā 
At around 4am, heā€™d sent you to bed to get a few hours of sleep, resolving that heā€™d help you get the most out of the rest of the retreat if youā€™d let him. You guess this was step one of letting him.Ā 
After a shower, Minghao lets you into his hotel room. He also appears to be freshly showered and you brush off any thoughts of how good he smells when you walk past him in the doorway. He gestures to the little table by the sliding glass door for you to have a seat. You do, watching him come back with mugs of hot water and tea bags. You recognize the smell when he hands it to you. Itā€™s one of the kinds that he bought yesterday.Ā 
The rest of the hour passes in relative silence. Youā€™ve filled pages by then, and when you come up for air you realize that your tea is cold and Minghaoā€™s page is nearly blank, save for a couple things. ā€œNot into journaling?ā€
He shrugged, smiling at you. ā€œI do it every day. Some days there just isnā€™t much to write.ā€ You finish the tea as not to waste it and go with him to breakfast.Ā 
Minghao doesnā€™t tell you what he has on tap for you today, simply telling you to trust him as he leads you out to the beach. You suppress a groan, following him to a couple mats that are placed in the back. He gives you an amused smile, like he knows you arenā€™t into this. He turns to you on his mat, and you begrudgingly do the same.Ā 
ā€œYouā€™re going to hear the typical ā€˜clear your mindā€™ mantras. Donā€™t bother.ā€ You raise an eyebrow at him to continue. ā€œYouā€™re beyond being able to just clear your mind. Do the movements, sure. But focus on the breathing and finding your own voice. Learn to filter the noise. Once you can filter, you can try to tune them out.ā€
Youā€™re frustrated by how simple he makes it sound and he must be able to tell. ā€œDonā€™t try to be a perfectionist here. Just use the time to be by yourself.ā€
You feel the frustration fade, replaced by an emotion that you canā€™t quite pinpoint, but it has stupid tears pricking your eyes because not even Jeonghan or Vernon has matched this sort of understanding. If Minghao notices the emotion, he doesnā€™t say anything about it. When the yoga instructor shows up, you mindlessly follow along with what she says, more focused on trying to do what Minghao said. The filtering isā€¦ hard. You arenā€™t even sure what your voice sounds like.Ā 
Youā€™re so focused on the task, that you must miss the end of the session. Youā€™re in a child pose when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You snap up and the hand squeezes, curving around your shoulder maybe attempting to comfort you. Most of the crowd has dissipated, only a few people still lingering with the instructor. Itā€™s not the time loss or the way that youā€™d ā€˜driftedā€™ as Jeonghan had described it that bothers you.Ā 
You look up at Minghao, totally aware at how vulnerable you probably look. Itā€™s because everything is quiet. Not even a murmur, like there had been when you tried Jeonghanā€™s little experiment last week. Itā€™s silent and it had only started when Minghao touched your shoulder. Itā€™s like he pressed the mute button.Ā 
ā€œAre you okay? Too much?ā€ He asks, looking genuinely concerned.Ā 
ā€œWhat?ā€ You ask, feeling a little numb with shock.Ā 
Minghao reaches out to wipe your face, gentle fingers grazing your cheeks. You hadnā€™t realized youā€™d been crying. ā€œToo much, got it.ā€ He stands up, hands leaving you. The noise rushes back and you fold into yourself, forehead hitting the mat again. ā€œY/N?ā€ His hand lands on your back and the mute button is hit again. It makes your breath catch. Heā€™s rubbing your back lightly, crouched next to you when you come up again. Youā€™re more prepared when his hand leaves you again and the rush of noise comes back. He stands, holding his hand out to help you up. He doesnā€™t drop it when youā€™re standing next to him. ā€œCome on. We have a break until 11:15 and I think you need it.ā€
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You needed more than the 45 minute break between sessions. He must sense that you need some privacy to deal with things so he guides you back up to his hotel room where he gives you cups of tea, one after another. He asks questions but they arenā€™t pressing. Youā€™re relieved by that because you donā€™t know what to tell him. You just say something happened, but you arenā€™t sure what. With you being new to all this, it must be an acceptable answer.Ā 
You both skip the next session and take a long lunch, showing up for the 2pm session. This one is ā€˜Developing your own spiritual practicesā€™. You look at the little flyer that the instructor hands out when you guys take a seat in the back row and then look up at Minghao helplessly, still feeling pretty raw from earlier. ā€œI donā€™t think any of this will help me.ā€
ā€œThatā€™s fine,ā€ he simply, voice like honey to you. ā€œThis is just to get some ideas. A lot of this is trial and error for everyone, not just you.ā€
You listen to this instructor with bated breath because you need solutions fast. The silence earlier was blissful in a way that makes you want to weep if you think about it for too long. You need to be able to shut it off like that anytime. Whatever Minghao has to do with it is a mystery, but he wonā€™t be around forever - only for a few more days. You arenā€™t sure what to do with any of what the instructor says, but you make notes on the back of the flyer and pocket them for later to research.Ā 
The 4pm session is ā€˜emotional clearingā€™. You feel overwhelmed by the concept and it must show because Minghao places his hand on top of yours in your lap once you both are seated. The hush falls over your mind again. ā€œRemember what I said. Just get some ideas.ā€ You feel like you need this session more than anything else youā€™ve experienced at this retreat so far and youā€™re desperate to focus, so you impulsively grip Minghaoā€™s hand when he starts to slip away into his own space again. He lets you, keeping his hand locked with yours for the whole session.Ā 
Thereā€™s a similar pattern to the next couple of days. He has you try swimming, which you arenā€™t a huge fan of and donā€™t find particularly relaxing, but he sticks with you. Reiki interests you more than youā€™d expect and you think about searching it out later when youā€™re back home. On the last full day of the retreat, you give Minghao an amused look when he walks you to a session for ā€˜Messages from aboveā€™. He just gives you an amused look back.Ā 
ā€œHear me out. I know yours arenā€™t exactly from above, but maybe you can get something out of this.ā€Ā 
And heā€™s right, you do get something out of it. Perhaps they arenā€™t tools to help you, but you do feel a little less crazy when you hear how many people in the room believe in their own abilities, and even appear confident in them. You come away not wanting to totally get rid of this little gift of yours, but maybe to one day control it.Ā 
After dinner, you both go on a walk along the beach. Itā€™s borderline romantic in a way that makes you feel silly. Your nineteen year old self would have loved something like this. But the thing about Minghao is that he doesnā€™t let you feel silly for long. Heā€™s just soā€¦ safe. You donā€™t feel like a freak with him. You feel human. You feel okay, even when heā€™s not touching you, which youā€™ve avoided for the most part since that morning yoga session and holding his hand during one of the lectures.Ā 
A lot of your time together passes in comfortable silence. You find that so few words are really necessary to understand each other. Youā€™ve walked from one pier to the other now and are on your way back when you stop in your tracks. Minghao stops with you, looking in the direction that you are.Ā 
ā€œWhat do you see?ā€ Minghao asks. Your bottom lip trembles because he didnā€™t ask ā€˜what are you looking atā€™. The distinction is something that you canā€™t spend a lot of time on because what youā€™re seeing isā€¦ bad. Itā€™s the man that you saw on your first morning here in the hotel restaurant. The same one that woke you up the other night. You must not have moved him on successfully because heā€™s there, struggling in the waves. He washes up and heā€™s still. You exhale hard at the sight. Itā€™s not the first time youā€™ve seen a replay of death, but it makes your gut twist every time.Ā 
Minghaoā€™s hand lands on your back and you canā€™t even blink when the man on the shore disappears like he might as well have gone up in a cloud of smoke. Your jaw drops a bit because thatā€™s new. Usually, these horrible visions linger. ā€œY/N,ā€ he says gently. You glance up to him, feeling a little devastated in a way that only this little ā€˜giftā€™ can do. The look heā€™s giving you is crushing in its own way too. Itā€™s one full of sympathy without an ounce of patronization. Heā€™s quiet for a long time. ā€œWhy donā€™t we go up for the night and settle in?ā€
You let him guide you by the hand up to your hotel room, where he lets you go in alone.Ā 
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Youā€™re up again, sitting out on the balcony at a little after 1am. Your bags are mostly packed to leave tomorrow - or today, rather. You arenā€™t totally surprised when the neighboring sliding door opens and Minghao steps out. He leans on the railing next to you, peering over. ā€œI saw the light click on a while ago. Penny for your thoughts?ā€
ā€œDo you ever sleep?ā€ You tease, looking up at him.Ā 
He raises an eyebrow. ā€œI think I could ask you the same thing.ā€ In the dim lighting, your mouth waters a bit looking at him. Given the location and weather, heā€™s abandoned a shirt a lot of the time, just like now. A pair of sweatpants hang low on his hips. Youā€™re getting the full picture of the toned arms and chest, the abs and the tapered waist. Itā€™s totally unfair because if heā€™s aware of how just looking at him drives you a little crazy, he doesnā€™t let on. His smile is fairly innocent. ā€œCould I interest you in a cup of tea?ā€
Your time with someone like him is limited, what with a plane departure looming tomorrow afternoon. So you smile, standing up. ā€œIā€™ll be there in a minute.ā€
He lets you in, telling you to make yourself comfortable. But this time, he gestures to the bed instead of the table. The covers are rumpled like heā€™d attempted to sleep tonight. He makes the tea, handing you a mug and sitting on the other side of the bed. The TV is on some kind of late night cartoon that you watch blindly. The silence stretches but itā€™s not uncomfortable.Ā 
Itā€™s almost 1:45 when you set the empty mug on the bedside table and curl your legs into your chest. ā€œY/N?ā€ You look over and Minghaoā€™s giving you that exposed look that you canā€™t decipher again. He takes a breath that is perhaps deeper than normal, like heā€™s steeling himself. ā€œThe other day, at the yoga session, what happened?ā€
You purse your lips, scanning his face. Heā€™s so handsome, and has shown you more understanding than anyone else youā€™ve ever met, andā€¦ heā€™s really a total stranger. You just met him four days ago. This connection is scary, if only because it will be gone tomorrow afternoon. You lean your head back against the headboard and he tracks the movement carefully. No wonder he doesnā€™t really miss anything. ā€œItā€™s hard to explain,ā€ you find yourself whispering.Ā 
ā€œTry me.ā€Ā 
You canā€™t tell him about the power he seems to have over you. You canā€™t depend on him. But you decide that you can tell him the rest. You bite your lip and see how his gaze dips down for a split second. It sends a little shock for your system to even consider that this attraction might be mutual. You realize heā€™s looking at your eyes again, waiting for an answer.Ā 
ā€œIt did something. It was hard and frustrating to start filtering. Butā€¦ I think it started to work.ā€
He doesnā€™t respond right away but he doesnā€™t look surprised. He sort of looks like heā€™s battling with something. Finally, he must come to a decision. ā€œThatā€™s not quite what I meant, Y/N. I meant your reaction when I touched you.ā€ You try to squash your reaction now, but his eyes drill into you and youā€™re sure he noticed how your eyes widened for a second. ā€œIā€™m justā€¦ concerned that I did something wrong. The look on your face is something Iā€™ll never forget, and Iā€™m not sure if it was even a good or a bad thing. Itā€™s been eating at me for days.ā€
Minghao lets you stare at him for a while and it feels kind of like falling of a cliff to answer him. But you canā€™t let him think he did anything wrong. Not when heā€™s given you moments of blissful silence. Your voice doesnā€™t sound quite right, even through the din in your head. ā€œIt was good. You didnā€™t do anything wrong.ā€
He looks a little relieved at your answer, shoulders relaxing a little bit. But then heā€™s battling with something again before speaking. ā€œAt the risk of sounding inappropriate, is it just that you liked when I touched you? Or was there something else?ā€
You feel your brows pinch together, frowning at him. ā€œDoes it matter?ā€
ā€œI guess it does, so I know whether I should ask to kiss you.ā€
You feel your breath catch at his words. You scan him for any signs of bad intentions, but you find none. After all, youā€™ve already been in this room with him before. Youā€™ve spent the last four days with him by your side from sun up to sun down, and a little bit after that too. And heā€™s asking for permission, giving you an opportunity to shut him down and go to your own room. Youā€™ll both get on separate flights and go home and probably never see each other again.Ā 
ā€œYou can. Kiss me, I mean,ā€ you blurt. A little smile creeps up on his face and he moves closer to you, hand meeting your cheek. Your eyes drift closed because of the silence his touch brings, and you feel his breath wash over your lips as he closes in.Ā 
ā€œPretty,ā€ he mumbles, before his lips press to yours. Theyā€™re soft, light, lingering pecks at first, getting longer when you reach out to hold him close by his own cheek. A little swipe of his tongue at the seam of your lips makes you sigh, hand sliding into his hair. All of it is so soft that you barely feel it when he has you slide down to lay on your back in bed. Youā€™re absolute putty in his hands as he hovers halfway over you, lips still advancing and retreating as his hand crawls up your shirt to lay flat against your stomach. Your hands are doing their own wandering over his bare chest and back, tight muscle underneath your finger tips.Ā 
He pulls away from your lips ever so slightly, hand tugging lightly on the hem of your shirt. ā€œMay I?ā€ When you nod, he gently peels the fabric up over your head. You didnā€™t bother with a bra because you should have been sleeping, but you donā€™t have a split second to feel weird about that because his hand is grazing your breast lightly, then cupping it. You sigh at the feeling and itā€™s like youā€™re calling him back to you with the sound because his lips are back on yours again.Ā 
It feels like forever but also a blink of an eye when youā€™ve both lost all of your clothes and heā€™s gently spreading your legs to kneel between them. ā€œAre you sure?ā€ His tone is a sweet whisper and you think you can identify the look heā€™s been giving you all week. Itā€™s soul-baring, like he has nothing to hide from you. So you nod, hoping your expression even comes close to his.Ā 
Minghao leans down, pressing soft kisses to your lips again as he runs the head of his cock into your folds. The feeling as you both hissing a bit. When he notches into your entrance and starts pushing in, you sigh, nails biting into his back. Once all the way in, he stays still, fully buried inside of you while he kisses you into oblivion. You kind of forget that the goal of this for most people would be sex because you think youā€™d let him stay like this forever. Between the warmth of his touch and the silence it brings, you feel like this rivals heaven.Ā 
When you both are breathless, he pulls back, propping up on his forearms over you. His hand grazes the top of your head softly. ā€œOkay?ā€Ā 
ā€œYeah.ā€ You donā€™t know why you both are still whispering, but it just adds to the intimate air that you both have, like this is just for the both of you. You feel silly when you think that, because of course it is, but you canā€™t think long about it, because heā€™s just feeding this little bubble you both are in with kisses to your cheek.Ā 
ā€œWant me to move?ā€ You nod, his lips dancing along your cheek still. ā€œOkay, baobei.ā€ He pulls away, enough to reach for your legs that are spread wide. His fingers gently grip your ankles, pulling them to wrap around his lower back. Then heā€™s back down, hovering closely to kiss you as he slides out and slides back in with a gentle rock of his hips. The feeling has you whimpering against his lips and it seems to feed something for him. Itā€™s not like youā€™re incredibly experienced, but something about being with him is soā€¦ softly passionate that itā€™s overwhelming. Heā€™s barely moved or touched you and you feel like youā€™re already falling apart.Ā 
He backs away from your lips to look down at you as he picks up the pace and your eyes drift closed. His hand grazes the side of your face, long fingers combing into your hairline. ā€œLook at me.ā€ The command is still oddly sweet and you follow instructions. The look heā€™s giving you has your heart jumping out of your chest. You reach to grip his wrist and he simply intertwines your fingers together and rests your linked hands on the bed above your head.Ā 
The strokes get deeper and you feel something building. Tears prick your eyes because heā€™s still looking down at you like youā€™re the center of the universe. Like he didnā€™t just meet you four days ago. His other hand intertwines with your other hand and then both of your arms are above your head. You kind of feel like your surrendering to him in a way and you canā€™t imagine why you would ever say no to something like this because you havenā€™t even came yet and you know this will change your life in a way that sex shouldnā€™t.Ā 
Minghaoā€™s hips move with just a little more force, and he hits a spot that has you seeing stars, jaw dropping. He groans softly above you, pressing a kiss to your cheek again. ā€œYou are heaven,ā€ he sighs against your skin. You wonder if he said it wrong, that he meant that you felt like heaven, but you think he might have meant it the way he said it and it turns you to mush. The heat is building to something that makes you feel like youā€™ll burst into flames and your voice is weak when you say his name. His head pops up to look down at you again. ā€œYouā€™re close,ā€ he says. Itā€™s not a question and the fact that he just knows makes you keen. Like he knows all of your tells already, knows the ins and outs of your body already. ā€œLook at me, baobei.ā€Ā 
You do and it only takes a few long seconds before the heat explodes, becoming unbearable. You canā€™t keep your eyes open anymore, fingers gripping his tightly, legs spasming around his waist. You hear a groan in your ear that makes the orgasm linger because you think you could hear him make that sound forever. It doesnā€™t take long before heā€™s jumping up, pulling out of you, and releasing across your stomach. Youā€™re dazed, watching the whole thing, particularly the expression on his face, and the only thing anchoring you right now is his hand gripping your hip. Otherwise, you think youā€™d float away because you havenā€™t felt this light in nearly a decade.Ā 
When he comes down, his hand leaves your hip, grazing your thigh gently. The other hand is cleaned on the bed sheets before it lands on your cheek softly. He kisses you long and soft without a single care for the mess heā€™s laying across when he presses his body against you. ā€œOkay?ā€ He asks eventually when he pulls away. You nod and he pecks your lips one more time. ā€œHow about a shower?ā€
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You feel clingy in that shower in a way that youā€™ve never been with anyone before. Not even as a naive teenager that was half in love with the first boy that gave you the tiniest bit of attention. He lets you cling under the warm water, rubbing your back gently and pressing kisses to the top of your head. You feel stupid for so many reasons.Ā 
You donā€™t know him. Not really, anyway. You donā€™t know his last name. You donā€™t know where heā€™s from or where he lives. You donā€™t know what he does for a living. And you feel stupid for knowing that you know none of that but that it doesnā€™t really matter. You canā€™t imagine ever feeling like this again. This connection is unparalleled, something that youā€™d only read about or seen on TV before. Youā€™d laughed about those things, making fun of them, but now you dread the morning. You dread getting on a plane to go home somewhere that he wonā€™t be.Ā 
You dread finding out that he doesnā€™t feel the connection that you do.Ā 
When the water starts to get chilly, Minghao urges you under the stream, washing your hair for you. You both wrap up the shower, drying off and pulling on clothes. Itā€™s just past 4am when Minghao guides you back into bed, pulling you close. You lay across his chest, listening to his heartbeat under your ear. You feel the tears pour because you can actually hear it, paired with the sound of both of you breathing. Nothing else. He must feel the tears on his bare chest because he rubs your back until you fall into a dreamless sleep. Youā€™re out cold when he kisses the top of your head and mumbles, ā€œitā€™s okay, weā€™ll find each other again.ā€
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danothan Ā· 16 days ago
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i am female manipulating youā€¦.tell me about your hyperfixations and special interestsā€¦..
!! well my biggest hypfix rn is arcane and my most pressing special interest is dc, so iā€™ve been trying to find as many similarities as i can between my respective faves (aka jayce talis and barry allen). no other reason than self-indulgent crossovers and categorizational satisfaction U__U
iā€™ve done this before, but now iā€™m also adding a visual component by comparing screenshots/panels! hereā€™s a taste:
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[s2e1 spoilers below cut]
i was thinking abt what i said abt their compartmentalizing tendencies, which led me to think abt the different ways jayce confides in his loved ones and how that plays into his inability to see the bigger picture. after his partner viktor nearly dies in the councilroom attack, jayce confides in mel (gf) for emotional support but tells caitlyn (family friend) what heā€™s actually thinking. when mel asks how viktorā€™s doing and jayce responds ā€œheā€™s still breathing,ā€ it feels defeated but leaves room for hope. when cait asks the same, he tells her ā€œhonestly, i donā€™t even know if heā€™s still in there,ā€ like thereā€™s less stakes to have to hide behind optimism
thatā€™s not to say he isnā€™t vulnerable w mel ofc, he lies his head in her lap and allows her to comfort him thru his survivorā€™s guilt. however, this only reassures his emotional unease (sm to be said abt this x his argument style, but thatā€™s for another day). with cait, heā€™s definitely not confiding for comfort lmao (i still think itā€™s funny and so very little sister of her to ask jayce how his dying partner is doing and then immediately start venting abt her own problems). instead, itā€™s more like jayce is trying to process, even if itā€™s just to be honest w himself
all of this to say, the ppl in jayceā€™s life have specific roles, which means he goes to them for specific things. this is a normal thing that pretty much everyone does, but in jayceā€™s case, his compartmentalizing feeds into his tunnel vision + influenceable disposition. having specific ppl for specific things is great for not burdening any one person w all of your problems, but it makes it harder for him to see the bigger picture outside of himself. thereā€™s a reason why jayce is notorious for his recency bias; itā€™s easy to get lost in the details when you can only see whatā€™s being reflected at you in a given moment
this tendency to compartmentalize is a trait jayce shares w barry ā€œi try not to blur the linesā€ allen. if anyone is going to have specific ppl for specific things, itā€™s gonna be the guy that splits his life into two personas (that he refuses to overlap yet canā€™t exist without the other, but hey, whoā€™s keeping track?). barry does it a little differently tho; whereas jayce is very external in his emotions, barry is internal, going so far as to use his powers to speedrun his grief alone so he can be there for other ppl instead
theyā€™re both very intense in their emotions, but barry bottles his up until they reach a boiling point. if he confides in someone, thereā€™s a calculated secrecy that jayce doesnā€™t have. for example, barryā€™s best friend hal (who knew him first as the flash) usually has to force barry to admit his feelings abt smth, while his gf/wife iris (who knew him first as barry) feels like sheā€™s pulling teeth to get any information out of him. ā€œflash is flash, barry is barryā€; he tries not to blur the lines, and this extends to the ppl that know him
itā€™s not that barry wants to hide himself (in fact, his love language is to understand and to be understood), he just has a hard time letting any one person know all of him. heā€™s social and sensitive but selectively vulnerable. itā€™s like he scatters fragments of himself so that everyone can have a piece, but no one has the full picture. itā€™s no surprise he isnā€™t able to see the big picture himself
between their compartmentalization, their short-sightedness, and their audacious idea of protecting their loved ones, i think the jayce-to-barry pipeline was inevitable for me lol. but interestingly enough, i never realized how different they were in their similarities until i wrote it all out here! i hope this makes sense if you arenā€™t familiar w the characters, itā€™s definitely been enlightening for me ^__^
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asbestos-boy-68 Ā· 3 months ago
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post your phonepad headcanons be free
you donā€™t even KNOW what kind of beast youā€™ve unleashed. btw this is my second time writing this post because the first time i did um tumblr did an error when i tried to post it and i lost the whole thing šŸ¤— anything for phonepad
mephone is a ben folds fan who plays guitar. mepad is a they might be giants fan who plays piano. they would learn songs from each others fav artist for each other. also theyā€™d jam together TRUST
fan and toilet are their biggest shippers. I CANT BE NUMBER 1 PHONEPAD SHIPPER BECAUSE THEY AREšŸ’”šŸ’”
theyā€™re so endgame. THEYRE SO MARRIED. theyā€™d be the SWEETEST married couple everyone would think they were #couplegoals
toilet would be the best man at their wedding
also mephone would make their wedding song the luckiest by ben folds (typical millennial ben folds fanā€¦)
mephone would NOT stfu abt the fact that he married mepad. heā€™d call him his husband ALL THE TIME even to people that full well knew mepad. like the contestants. heā€™d be like ā€œso my HUSBAND said-ā€œ and theyā€™d all be like ā€œWE KNOW WHO MEPAD IS BRO SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!ā€
whenever mephone would get upset mepad would cook any meal he wanted for him and then theyā€™d cuddle and watch reality shows together to make him feel better
mepad cares for mephone like heā€™s getting paid. esp when heā€™s sick.
mephone would rant about mepad to floory during iii. floory would call him gay
similarly mepad would rant about mephone to taco after leaving the show, mostly about how much he missed him. taco would tell him to stfu and that mephone was a bitch
when mephone said that he didnā€™t trust him that hurt mepad like NOTHING else.
regarding mepadā€™s whole ā€œemotionlessā€ thing i think of it in a sort of yansim type way (WITHOUT THE WEIRDO YANDERE STUFF šŸ’”) likeā€¦ he doesnā€™t have feelings but around mephone he does. at least thatā€™s how itā€™d be at first, but after a while heā€™d develop a full range of emotions that functioned whether or not he was with mephone. but at first itā€™d only be around him
mepad always keeps snacks on him for mephone. he knows all of his favorite snacks
mepad is the only person who can calm mephone down when he starts spiraling about cobs
when theyā€™d get together mephone would try and hide their relationship because heā€™d be worried about cobs knowing and ā€œwhat will the viewers think about this ?!ā€ but heā€™d be so ass at it. everyone and their mom would know they were together
no one was surprised when they got together / told ppl they were together. literally NO ONE.
omg my bf said this but likeā€¦ ok II16 SPOILER WARNING ā€¼ļø anyways yk how some ppl have theorized that all of the contestants are different aspects of mephoneā€™s personality?
mepad loves all of the contestants. HE LOVES EVERY PART OF MEPHONE IM GONNA THROW UP
after mepad left the show mephone would curse himself every day for not telling mepad he loved him sooner
the reason mephone saved mepad was half just because he didnā€™t want someone else to go through cobsā€™ abuse and half because he just feltā€¦drawn to mepad. even before heā€™d started up for the first time mephone felt like the universe was pulling him towards mepad, like they were meant to be SOMETHING.
mepad would be so upset by the fact that mephone acted like he didnā€™t care when he left the show. heā€™d be going thru the 5 stages of grief, ā€œdid we mean nothing???ā€ type shit
mephone would be so proud that he pulled mepad. heā€™d think mepad was so out of his league
humanized their height difference is 8 inches mepad is 6ā€™4 mephone is 5ā€™8
as parents mepad would be such a good dad and mephone wouldā€¦ not. but not in like an abusive cobs way in the way that he means the absolute best but he just has no idea what heā€™s doing. i have a ship kid for them itā€™s a 3rd gen ipod nano. mepod nano gen3 i love you
their song is ā€œi only wanna be with youā€ by dusty springfield. that is the song they dance to together in the kitchen at 11:30pm
mephone is so genuinely and truly in love with mepad. he admires every little thing about him and thinks about him all the time.
he cried himself to sleep every night after mepad left and had to use all of his energy every day to not break down about it
mephone acts like a kid when heā€™s with mepad. he is fully himself, he lets his guard down and doesnā€™t worry about what he does and how itā€™ll look, because he knows mepad will love him either way
mepad makes sure that mephone wears nice outfits on camera. trust that during s1 his fits were NOT tippy top . there is a STARK contrast of pre- and post-mepad fits.
mepad doesnā€™t technically need to eat but whenever mephone bakes (he likes baking, heā€™s just straight ass at it) he will eat it and say that itā€™s good even if itā€™s not
mepad also learned how to cook for mephone
everything mephone does in front of mepad is an attempt to impress him. he wants mephone to think heā€™s as cool as he thinks he is.
mephone looks up to mepad SO much, heā€™s so many things he wishes he was and that he admires. maybe he canā€™t become those things but HE CAN DATE HIM SO CLOSE ENOUGH šŸ˜‹šŸ™‚ā€ā†•ļøšŸ™
mepad loves mephone so much i canā€™t UGEGHSEJWGEKAHD
this isnā€™t even the half of it bro iā€™m sure thereā€™s some i forgot since i had to rewrite this + i have a lot more i didnā€™t write down
AND I DIDNT EVEN GET INTO MY PHONEPAD AU. I COULD MAKE A WHOOOOLE NOTHER POST ON THAT.
enjoy tho šŸ˜‹ if i think of any more ill reblog w them. also anon if you wanna hear me yap about my phonepad au feel free to ask because i will GLADLY yap šŸ˜
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ciaossu-imagines Ā· 2 months ago
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Ryohei Sasagawa and grief
Amazingly, I do think Ryohei, along with Lambo, are going to be the ones who are the best at dealing with any amount of grief they feel. Ryoheiā€™s going to be one of the best at expressing any amount of grief he feels and at allowing himself to deal with it and can do so in surprisingly mature ways.
It really comes down to the fact that Ryohei is someone who is incredibly true to who he is as a person. Heā€™s consistently himself, no matter what. It doesnā€™t matter what emotions heā€™s feeling or what is going on in his head. He doesnā€™t try to hide any of it. He lives his truth and lets everyone around him know just whatā€™s going on with him. Because of that, when he is grieving, he allows himself to fully feel everything. Heā€™s not going to put on a brave face and pretend he isnā€™t feeling anything. Heā€™s not going to play pretend and fake like whatever is causing the grief didnā€™t happen. Heā€™s going to talk about whatever situation is causing the grief; heā€™s going to be upfront and honest, at all times, about whatever heā€™s feeling during his grief cycle, in the simplest, most straight-forward terms. If he needs something from the people around him to help with that grief, heā€™s going to ask for it, if not demand it.
Despite being accused of being simple-minded or childish, Ryohei is actually a really mature individual in how he does process, show, and deal with his feelings and this helps him grieve in ways that not only speed the process along but leaves him without regrets or lingering feelings of that grief.
Ryohei is someone who gets easily attached to things and people. Heā€™s a great big ball of emotions, someone who thrives on connections and pure love for life and all the things in it. Because of this, heā€™s prone to several small moments of grief. He cherishes everything that was made for him or specially picked out for him. He still has crafts that Kyoko made him back when she was in preschool, all displayed in his room as an adult. Heā€™ll keep every ticket stub, photobooth picture, love letter, and memento from every date heā€™s gone on in his romantic relationships. All these little precious memories of his life mean a ton to him and losing any of those things would feel like the end of the world to Ryohei. He would freak out about it. No matter how much someone told him it really didnā€™t matter that much, he would not buy that. It matters a lot to him and thatā€™s the only truth heā€™ll acknowledge. Heā€™ll do everything he can to find the lost item, even roping his friends and his sister into helping him search for it. If he cannot find it, he will loudly proclaim how sad he is and will kind of beat himself up for losing the thing. He will insist on finding the person who he made that memory with and apologizing to them for losing that thing. It is not only a one-time thing that Ryohei has insisted on finding the new number for someone he dated five years ago just so that he can profusely apologize and ask forgiveness for losing something like a picture they took together on one of their anniversaries. He even tried his best to ask that ex if they still had a copy of it and, if so, could Ryohei get a copy of that picture? Itļæ½ļæ½ļæ½s really just what he knows he needs to get over that small moment of grief and to be able to feel better about it.
That tendency of listening to what he needs and finding the things that will make him feel better about the situations also applies for bigger moments of grief. When his first car stopped working well and he knew that it could no longer be driven, he was so sad. He was very attached to that car. It was his baby, heā€™d given it a name, and it had been his reliable friend in many ways. He was so upset and sad over knowing that he would never take any more trips in it. He allowed himself to cry a little over the loss and then, because he felt so strongly that his reliable friend and companion, Honda-kun the car, deserved a proper burial and send-off, he insisted that all of his friends, along with his parents and Kyoko, get together for a party where Honda-kun would be lit on fire (the fuel tank was thankfully emptied) after eulogies were given. He insisted that, after the eulogy, everyone pour a bit of their drink on the ground for Honda-kun and nobody was allowed to leave until the fire was a smolder (or until the neighbours called the firefighters to come put it out). When Gokudera made fun of Ryohei for crying during the send-off, Ryohei didnā€™t even let it get to him. He made it very clear that a proper man allows himself to feel sad when heā€™s sad.
For things like break-ups, that carry heavy emotional baggage, Ryohei finds himself grieving hard. He goes into every romantic relationship firmly believing that that is his one and only, forever kind of person. Itā€™s just as hard on him to break up with them as it is for him to be dumped. He allows himself to cry. He talks to his friends about everything heā€™s feeling. He demands his ex hear out his emotions and seeks closure. He finds the things that will make him feel like heā€™s closer to being okay again, whether it be watching rom-coms with his sister, whether it be setting up as many boxing matches as he can, whether it be going to a speed-dating event at the urging of a friend, or whether it be taking the plunge and temporarily blocking his exā€™s number. He allows himself the room and the space to get it all out. Hell, after a particularly nasty breakup, he allowed himself to just go for a run where he ended up just standing in the middle of a street yelling to the sky about everything he was feeling while he cried. Sure, the people who lived on the street yelled at him and threatened to call the cops afterwards, but emotionally, after doing that, he felt a little more healed and more level-headed so it was totally worth it to him.
Those big, unexpected moments of grief, like suddenly losing a loved one to death, are keenly felt by Ryohei. As mentioned, heā€™s someone who deeply feels whatever emotion hits them. With Ryohei though, he doesnā€™t deny that grief in any way. He loved that person in whatever form he loved them, be it as part of his family, as one of his dear friends, or as a lover, and now they are gone. Itā€™s just not okay. He beats himself up ā€“ if heā€™d just been there, he could have saved them. He doesnā€™t know how he could have done so, but he would have. He openly weeps over their loss. He carries their coffin on one of his shoulders while sobbing. He sits in front of their tombstone or a little shrine to honor them and he pours his heart out about how much they meant to him. He tells them all the things he loved about them, all their favourite moments together, his words sometimes becoming unintelligible beneath the snot and tears that are flowing. He talks to his other precious people, opening up to them all his grief and thoughts and hurts about this death. He gets paranoid about the other people in his life leaving him ā€“ he starts calling everyone at least once a day, just to check up on them, make sure theyā€™re healthy, are they eating well, please donā€™t die on him, he canā€™t lose anyone else. He tries a crossroads ritual from some foreign book that supposedly claims you can make a deal with a demon to get anything to try to bring his loved one backā€¦it doesnā€™t work. He acts pretty crazy for a couple months but at the end of those couple months, heā€™s exhausted almost everything he needed to feel, and he works on starting to heal and rebuild his life. Thankfully, most of the people in his life are well aware of his eccentricities and have stayed beside him all that time.
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accio-sriracha Ā· 1 year ago
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"You are not my father."
ā€Ž ā€Žā€§ā‚ŠĖš āš”ļøŽ Ėšā‚Šā€§ ā€Žā€§ā‚ŠĖš āš”ļøŽ Ėšā‚Šā€§ ā€Žā€§ā‚ŠĖš āš”ļøŽ Ėšā‚Šā€§
"You are not to leave this house!" Sirius shouted, his voice trembling with what seemed like rage, but Remus could recognize instantly as fear.
"You don't get to tell me what to do!" Harry shouted back, standing up from his seat.
"You're still a child!" Sirius shoved away from his chair as well, "You can't go around making rash decisions and expecting everything to turn out fine!"
"Oh, like you haven't made any rash decisions."
"Harry, Sirius. Sit down." Remus told them. Harry shot him a glare,
"Just because he listens to you doesn't mean I have to."
Sirius growled even as he took his seat again.
"I'm asking you as politely as I can, Harry. You need to stay here. It's for your own protection." Remus explained.
"Why do you get to decide what's best for me?"
"Because we care about you, Harry." Remus spoke slowly.
"You are not my father." He shouted.
And that was all it took to plunge the room into silence.
Remus had to look away, had to control the emotions threatening to play out on his face.
Sirius sat, stunned into silence. Remus had made the mistake of turning towards him, watching the grief, the sadness, the regret, watching as it all came to a final rest at anger. He knew Sirius wasn't really angry, he knew it was just the easiest emotion for Sirius to deal with, the only one he understood. But it didn't seem like that to everyone else.
Remus' attention was caught again as Harry's finger twitched, a tick James used to get when he was truly pissed off.
"Re." Sirius cleared his throat, trying to hide the break in his voice, "I'm going to stand up from the table now."
Remus nodded, "It's okay. We'll sort this out."
Ever since the order had decided Harry deserved to know what was going on there had been slight tension in the air.
Harry had been dealing with a lot, they all knew this, he'd gone through much more than any child should ever need to.
But the look in his eyes as he said those words to them, it hurt worse than anything Remus had ever experienced, and he'd dealt with his fair share of "more than he needed to" too.
"What? Have I upset him? Does pointing out the fact that neither of you fucking own me bother everyone?" Harry spat.
Molly Weasley sat up straighter in her chair, her face scrunched up like she was preparing to yell.
Remus raised a hand to her, keeping his calm expression the best he could, "Harry-" He sighed and looked away again.
Those were Lily's eyes.
Lily's fiery passion and hot temper placed directly into James' nervous habits and tilted frown.
It was like torture.
"We know we aren't your parents. Nobody could ever replace them, and we wouldn't dream of doing so."
"So what? You think being their friends gives you the right to tell me what to do?"
"Harry." Hermione Granger's tone was sharp, and Merlin did it only remind him further of Lily.
"No, 'Mione. I'm not going to sit here and listen to them tell me to let everyone die for me. I want to go and fight."
"You're a target, Potter." Mad-eye Moody's gruff voice spoke from his place in the corner, his hand rested on the back of Ron Weasley's chair, "You can't just go out and put yourself into their line of sight like that."
"But all of you can just fine?" Harry countered.
"The people in this room know what they signed up for."
"I'm not going to let you die for me!" Harry shouted, "It's my own life, Moody! I can choose to spend it how I want! If I want to go out there and fight, I'm going to go out there and fight!"
"Not on my watch you're not." Molly Weasley huffed, her face turning red.
Harry glowered at her, Remus could tell he was doing his best not to snap at her, his hand nearly shaking from the effort.
Remus wished he could gain better control of the situation, he wished desperately it was James he was speaking to, that way he'd know exactly how to calm him down.
"Your dad did that when he was angry." He spoke before he could stop himself, gesturing to the twitch in Harry's right hand.
Harry's expression blanked in surprise for a moment, his eyes held something Remus recognized intimately: grief, longing, that fleeting desperation to learn something, anything about him.
Sometimes Remus felt that way about Harry. They hardly knew each other it felt like, and yet Remus was the first one outside of the couple to hold him after he'd been born. How did they end up here?
"He did?" Harry asked quietly.
Remus nodded, "It's how we knew something went too far."
"Was he angry often?" Harry asked, the twitching had stopped, but his brows still furrowed the same.
Remus was surprised how similar they were, how his eyes slowly died down in their fire the same as Lily's.
He shook his head, "He was usually pretty patient. More patient than any of us were. He only really got ticked off when someone would insult his friends."
Harry's expression softened further, "How did you calm him down?"
"Well, Remus here did most of the talking." Sirius appeared back in the room, his lips pressed tightly together but his posture less tense, "Your father was easy to comfort, he just needed to be reminded that we were there. That we loved him, and always would."
Harry nodded slowly, glancing at his own two friends. Ron Weasley reached over and patted his shoulder silently.
"We would never dream of replacing your father, Harry." Remus repeated, catching his eyes again, "But we do love you like our own. I'm sorry if this overwhelms you, I know you don't know us very well. But, if you're willing, we'd like to try to get to know each other better."
Sirius sat back down beside Remus, his fingers brushing against Remus's knee under the table.
"I'm sorry that he's gone." Sirius whispered quietly, "I've missed him more every day. But you're still here, Harry. You don't realise how much of a miracle that is to us. You survived, against all odds. I don't want anything to jeopardize that. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Harry nodded, "Yeah. Sorry I yelled at you."
Remus chuckled lightly, "Don't apologize Harry. You've every right to be upset. Sirius hasn't sat still since he got back, he hates being stuck here. But it's for his safety, he's still being blamed for... for what Peter did." He glanced at Sirius, "We don't expect either of you to be happy about it. But we do hope you listen, so we don't have to lose you too."
He spoke to both of them now.
"Thanks Remus." Harry whispered.
Sirius nodded once, staring down at their now-joined hands, "Thanks, Moons."
So maybe they weren't James, maybe they could never fill that hole in Harry's life. Merlin knew they could never fill the empty space he left in their's.
But they would love Harry until the end. Protect him no matter what it took. Remus would give anything to keep this boy safe, not just because he was Lily's fire and James' compassion, but because he was Harry.
And Harry deserved someone who loved him like their own.
"Let's get ready for dinner." Remus announced, "I think Molly said something about turkey?"
Molly Weasley nodded and shuffled off to the kitchen. The majority of the group left the room with her. Harry cleared his throat,
"Can you tell me about them?" He asked quietly.
"Your parents?" Remus asked. Harry nodded,
"Yeah, I feel like I barely know anything. You were best friends with them right?"
Sirius gave a low chuckle, "The best." He smiled softly.
The fire had died long before they left that table, reminiscing in stories they hadn't been able to talk about since before the first war, telling Harry all about what his parents were like at his age.
And maybe they weren't a normal family. But in that moment? They felt like one.
ā€Ž ā€Žā€§ā‚ŠĖš āš”ļøŽ Ėšā‚Šā€§ ā€Žā€§ā‚ŠĖš āš”ļøŽ Ėšā‚Šā€§ ā€Žā€§ā‚ŠĖš āš”ļøŽ Ėšā‚Šā€§
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interlagosainz Ā· 10 months ago
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i know i probably sound deranged but . hear me out . charlos pacific rim au . so ā€¦ jaegar engineer carlos, who was dragged into becoming a pilot even though he could just strategise & build as the brightest to come out of there in years ( even though thereā€™s nico & daniil & mitch & he can only drive himself mad watching them fall from the sky, crash into the water in graves that he designed, scribbles on notes & plans scattered across the table & grief scrawled into the margins of yet another design ).
but the higherā€“ups are looking for anyone & everyone ā€” & he winds up being drift compatible with lando ( except itā€™s not the first person heā€™s compatible with, having paired with redbullā€™s starboy max years ago & broken their link himself at the last possible minute to avoid being forced into the field, knows how fragile these things are ), made to don an orange uniform & convince everyone that itā€™s fine, that their meagre efforts are going to stave off the end of the world sooner rather than later. & thatā€™s easy-going & nice, but itā€™s a stop-gap all the same ( he knows they want someone better, the mclaren unit has a bone to pick & determination to prove they are still the best at this, that they want someone proven to kill & take down kaiju & get the job done in a way heā€™s only slowly, unbalancedly & fumbling through, figuring out how to ). & though they have great success, heā€™s also terrified about why it feels so deliberate, why everything feels like such a process, why they say you canā€™t hide anything in the drift & yet lando has not seen half the things that haunt him in his sleep.
on the other side of the world, thereā€™s ferrariā€™s star pilot, charles, fresh off a partnership that had initially gone so well but ended so badly that even though they were trying their absolute best, sent their jaeger out of control & into the sea & seb with a patchwork of scars to some strategy related posting in sydney ( pardon the implied sebmark, i had to ) & him to fend off the cameras & questions about whatā€™s wrong with the unit again. & thereā€™s so much speculation, so many people wondering who will work wth charles ā€” he can barely breathe ( not that he ever really could, because to don the colours he does also means some commitment to the bit, to burning til the very end ), runs the tests mechanically, as they put one person after another in front of him & everything comes up empty & heā€™s pleading every day to just let him solo pilot even though itā€™ll probably get him killed ( he just wants to go out, to prove himself & keep their shatterdome from falling apart, no matter how impossible it seems ) ā€” but theyā€™re so desperate that theyā€™re testing other pilots, even the ones who are already drifting with someone else, because they can pull those pairings apart in a moment if they needed it somewhere else. thing is, he doesnā€™t really remember much about the first time they sparred ā€” dark eyes and bracing against an immovable object and some dim recognition that oh is this landoā€™s co-pilot, moving back and forth like some sort of ebb and flow just like the surface of the ocean heā€™d slammed into all those months ago ā€” or about the first time theyā€™d attempted to drift in the simulation ā€” blurs of colours and images and something weightless and effortless, opening his eyes and wondering why his mouth tastes like salt, like sea, like tears & the faintest hint of guilt and it feels like all the airā€™s been sucked clean from his lungs. ( congratulations, youā€™re compatible. congratulations, hope you hang in there longer & come out of it in fewer pieces than all the ones before you did. )
there is only so much space in this shatterdome. there is only so much space in your mind. & even though it goes so well, carlos a perfect co-pilot & the two of them are completing mission after mission successfully ā€” it feels like theyā€™ve never been able to fully close the space between the pons systems separating themselves when they drift, because after that first time, it was like everything vanished & drifting was only ever something smooth & easy. ( as though charles is very much rooted here, in this moment, and somehow carlos is reading the signal flares from a thousand miles away, and it drives him mad in the process, how someone so outwardly warm & emotional could feel so cold & always armed with a perfect distance in his mind. ) but the first advice they give to any pilot is to never chase the rabbit, to seek the memories & people in othersā€™ minds ( to look into file after file and find them curiously blank and empty, trying to contact people long dead & gone ) ā€” itā€™s advice that, in the end, charles doesnā€™t heed. ( i am rambling so much bc rip the meds & idk if this makes any sense but !! idk just want angsty charlos, fluorescent lights & the warmth of another person at the end of the world & just . learning to Understandā„¢ļø & be okay with being Perceivedā„¢ļø, that you could fall into the water together & feel like you're never coming up for air & still live, somehow )
first of all, i canā€™t tell you how excited i was when i got this. thank you so much for sharing your ideas.
ā€œ& grief scrawled into the margins of yet another designā€ FUCKED ME UP. engineer carlos getting used to the feeling that to create a machine is to get ready to grief. i would like to imagine a daniil that canā€™t pilot anymore because of a major injury and carlos writing to him every chance he has just because he feels like he owns that. he was the one that built the jaegar that daniil was in. maybe if he has changed this, or done that, or was just a little better hereā€”
i love how you paired lando and carlos. imagining a very young and eager lando who grew up admiring pilots and dreaming of his own jaegar and taking down his first kaiju, and on the other side carlos, who didnā€™t want to be there, who was not supposed to be there, but itā€™s hard to find good pilots and the investments are getting scarce. so, as you said, they need to get help anywhere they can. ā€œ yet lando has not seen half the things that haunt him in his sleepā€ YES. lando being to excited and so young that carlos is there mostly to help and guide him rather than create a real connection. lando doesnā€™t stop to Look at carlosā€™ mind.
ā€œcharles, fresh off a partnership that had initially gone so well but ended so badlyā€ ooooh how i would pay bucks to see this written. i would die to see this. this would be amazing. your whole idea. your whole concept. everything is top notch. also, do not apologize for the implied sebmark. i love the implied sebmark. give me more. ā€œnot that he ever really could, because to don the colours he does also means some commitment to the bit, to burning til the very endā€ here, as soon as i read it, i had to stop and walk around the room. charles is a sacrificial lamb to ferrari in every universe. wearing rosso corsa as if it is blood on his hands. charles not feeling anything. mechanical. work. proving himself. red, red, red. then, sea. then salt. then other colors. then brown eyes. then something else. then anotherā€™s feelings in his chest. everything is so fast and then it just stops. just for a moment. then is fast again. i love how you described it, their first ride together, the way itā€™s nothing magical at the same time it is. itā€™s very mundane and routine like until itā€™s not.
i feel like charles has the knife here, he has the power to seek the rabbit, he has the upper hand, he has the power to use the knife to hurt carlos or to hand the knife for carlos to fend himself out of his little cave. but he canā€™t do anything with his knife. because carlos needs to let him in. and carlos canā€™t do that. carlos has lost too much, has too many names he carries as a reminder of his failure and he has read charles leclerc file, he knows about his dad, about the pilot that was his mentor, about sebastian, he canā€™t be another tale mark in the count of grief this boy has to carry.
and charles is having none of that. i donā€™t think it would be because he cares for carlos, at the begging, but mostly because he thinks that to be a better pilot to be the best one out there the biggest better jaegar and to take down kaijus, they need to know everything about each other: this was a problem with sebastian, he was too far away from charles, always keeping him on the brim. he wonā€™t let it repeat again. he keeps pushing and pushing and pushing just to get to know Something. he needs to know. all while, forgetting that if carlos lets him in, charles will also be open. i donā€™t think charles would be realizing that until is too late. until he learns that to see someone bare open, with their chest exposed, is to also be vulnerable. the knife cuts both ways. you and i are one tear, one flesh and blood, one painful memory of the world, shared, like a grave. your heart beat in my ribs and mine in yours. intimacy in visceral violence but intimacy is sewing each other up after. to be perceived hurts, at first. you are forced to look at something you would rather hide. but then you are seen. it create a bond that transcends all other types of love, thus acting as the sole point of understanding for the other person in a world that cannot fathom what theyā€™ve been through. you are in a room full of people and you feel like falling down. thereā€™s a arm around you, supporting you, keeping you away from all the eyes, as you do so.
ā€œthat you could fall into the water together & feel like you're never coming up for air & still live, somehowā€ yeah. i need to sit down. this isā€” just. amazing. thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart, for sharing this.
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shawty-writes-a-little Ā· 2 years ago
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From Eden 3.
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part4]
Darkling x brekker!reader
Summary: Summary: The crows find out about the Aleksander facade, Kaz has very civil reaction to his sister
Word count: 5.3k (sorry it took so long)
An: does anyone know how to get the ā€œread moreā€ thingy? Someone told me but I forgot
ā€”
Jesper quickly stopped y/n crossing his arms at the exit door from the lab given both Wylan and y/n were situated at the lab as a sort of safer space, their cleaner record and Kaz proclaimed their inability to fight. "Slow down are you really alright?" Jesper asked her with furrowed brows as he stood in front.
"Yes-yes huh uh yes..." Y/n nodded frantically trying her best to compose her heavy breath after the dream, which is what she wanted to call it but it did not feel like one. Both Jesper and Wylan sat her down on the sofa again taking their seats on the chairs across her.
"You look a bit shaken y/n are you sure you are fine?" Wylan urged, he was in the lab as she made small talk before drifting off to sleep and she seemed just fine to him then.
"Itā€”it was just a dream!" She exclaimed rubbing her eyes as she tried to settle back, overcoming the feeling. She had a lot of things going on at the moment to figure out herself, being kaz's sister she never had a problem being stoic or hiding something as drastic as loosing the love of your life. Truly, the siblings had mastered not letting any major problem show on their face. However y/n realised her grief was getting heavier than she panned out to be-the dream about Aleksander? Seeing him, his touch in her dream it felt so heavy.
"What was it about? You can talk to us..." Wylan said with a wide smile and comforting tone.
"You have been really offset ever since you got back" Jesper added "Whats wrong? Is it about pekka? The kidnapping?"
"No no-not that no" Y/n shook her head, loosing Aleksander weighed over all her other problems. She had trusted Jesper with a lot of don't-tell-kaz situations before and she was aware even when Aleksander was alive, when she were to break the news to all of them Jesper would be the first one. She wasn't so sure about the demo boy though "Could we perhaps talk alone? Because well I can't have Kaz know."
Jesper firstly was taken aback and confused, she hadn't gotten her hands on a lot stuff ever since she got back to ketterdam what could she possibly have done in this much time. "I won't tell Kaz!" Wylan exclaimed, he knew y/n meant she wanted to speak to just Jesper but he was keen to know.
Y/n looked at Jesper with an unsure look, "I promise! I won't tell him anything I swear" Wylan urged, he knew y/n could not trust him with her secrets not that he had given her a reason, he was just new. But he meant to hear her out.
"You can trust him" Jesper said with an assuring shrug to include Wylan in whatever sordid tale she had. However, as she told them about it, Aleksander, almost getting married. The two just blankly stared at her, out of all the wildest things to ever happen nothing could've prepared them for this.
As y/n finished narrating she sat a few moments in silent as the two just stared at her with wide eyes as if she had declared a new regime "Will you two say something?"
"The darkling?" Jesper asked, to be confirm for one he had to be confirmed eight times if the darkling he knew was the darkling she was talking about and all eight times he'd want her to be wrong. "The darkling? The general? The grisha general?"
"Yes. Yes him." Y/n nodded with her lips curled into a thin awkward smile, she never had to break the news to anyone at little palace given everyone knew of their intimacy however her own friends. Jesper seemed far too stunned than she had originally imagined.
"The shadow summoner?" Wylan asked as well, as he did some hand gestures to resemble him "Kirigan? General Kirigan you mean?"
"Yes!" Y/n confirmed again in a high pitched voice getting irritated by the second as it was getting hard to figure out if they were confused of horrified.
"Almost marrying him?!" Jesper whisper yelled as he looked over his shoulder to the door to see if no one was overhearing. "When did you plan to tell us?"
"I did! I was planning on coming here to say it myself because the letters were too formal-"
"Have you lost your mind?!" Jesper said as he stood up pacing around the room. "Did you not once think what would've happened if Kaz knew about this from someone else and-"
"I never intended to keep it hidden!" Y/n said raising her brows, in truth she never did. However her older brother was complicated and she knew even if she was with a nice white collar man Kaz would have his dramatic theories so Aleksander was far from ideal however she did plan to tell Kaz before everything went downhill. "Butā€”he isn't here anymore. There is no point."
"Kaz is right down the-" Wylan tried to tell y/n if she still planned to let him know.
"I meant Aleksander..." Y/n said interrupting her as he replied with a dejected 'oh' of his misinterpretation.
"You do realise he will find out eventually right?" Jesper asked crossing his arms. "I wish I never asked you what was wrong." He said still panicking as he paced around
"What do you mean? I don't plan on telling Kaz anymore he will make a big fuss about it how would he know?" Y/n asked with an obvious tone.
"He always finds out." Wylan agreed staring off as he realised Kaz would find out about his sister's affairs, worst thing you could find yourself be involved in "I'm sorry but I wish you wouldn't have told me either because when he finds out I'll be involved as the one who did not tell him beforehand."
"Why you wanted to know!" Y/n exclaimed truly surprised by their rather regretful behaviour "Lookā€”Kaz won't find out. I have mastered hiding stuff from him he will not find out from me and the only other people who do know are across the fold. Despite of all that...Aleksander is dead." She said with a dejected huff as she tried to hide it as if it didn't mean anything to her "It doesn't account for anything even if Kaz does find out."
"And to think I almost shot at your husband to be" Jesper said with a playful scoff as both y/n and Wylan shot him a too-soon look. "Sorry" he muttered and sat on the chair across y/n again.
"If I'd known what he was going to do I swear I never would've gotten you Kaz and Inej on the ship that day trust me I did not know heā€”" Y/n began to ramble as Jesper nodded interrupting her midway.
"Of course!" Jesper scoffed in an obvious manner, he didn't even need to be reassured that y/n wouldn't ever put their lives at stake. "That's alright I know that-it's just well you and Kirigan...I never would've expected that." Jesper had only ever seen her as the girl who begged him to teach her card tricks and how to swing a gun to make you look intimidating, how to tie shoe laces, he had always seen kaz's sister as his own and her making big decisions at all was a bit emotional.
"I know!" Y/n replied exhaling with downcasting her gaze. She knew it was difficult to explain her situation with Aleksander, what he'd done in the past was his past. All she had known of him from when she first knew him wasn't that man, it wasn't the man who made the fold it was the man who'd bring the world to its knees for her, he was her Aleksander but there was no way she could explain that without sounding like a dumbfounded idiot who couldn't see past him. All of that yet after he died she couldn't hold what he did wrong against him because what hurt more is she never got a goodbye, "He hurt a lot of people. He did a bad thing and I do not endorse that" she reasoned and reached out for her side pocket and took a ring in front of the two "But I justā€”I just can't seem to let go off him" she said as he voice cracked and she held the ring between her fingers, not wearing it, she simply stared at it as if it was his face.
"Your grief is just as valid y/n" Wylan urged as he leaned forward "Loosing someone you loved is difficult and because he hurt people doesn't mean you don't get to grieve. You loved him despite of what he was, you loved him. And however wrong it might sound you-"
"No no it's alright." Y/n shrugged off clearing her throat, she hated being consoled or comforted not because of the sense of vulnerability. From what she'd learned from Kaz she had known that in order to deal with your wearies you never tell anyone in on it. The only way. "I am not going to weep about it all my days I have grieved enough I am alright." She raised her brows with an unserious shrug. Being way more familiar with bottling her emotions than letting it out there was a sense of comfort on holding onto something she'd always known. The only person she would always have was herself, that's how Kaz dealt with everything and so did she. The only person who tried to break these walls of her was Aleksander, would she admit that it worked? But would it matter now? Aleksander was gone, the walls were back up and the unnamed emptiness inside of her grew amongst the heavy weight of his absence.
ā€”
In a fortnight or so Kaz brought back all they'd lost to pekka, not necessarily all whom him and y/n had lost. But still, the crow club however much in ash, they had it back. Their stadwatch off reputation and life back up out of the underground. Settling into their old rooms again y/n could barely recall it being over three days or so, a knock bringing out the most of unexpected of news with a new job proposals for the 'thieves'. "Inside inside inside!" Jesper exclaimed hurriedly as he stood in y/n's way from coming down the stairs. "Don't!"
"What is happening?" Y/n asked stepping back given the obvious fright on Jesper's face it seemed her presence downstairs could be difficult in a way. However there were no sounds of gunshot or fight being heard from down the stairs just a faint discussion.
"Zoya. The Etherealki? She is here!" Jesper explained as he looked over his shoulder warming y/n about it. He had known from the grisha order and poise way of speaking she was a previous little palace resident who must known of the general and y/n like she had mentioned the other day.
"Zoya?" Y/n asked confused, "Nazyalensky? What? What is she doing here?!"
"A turn of events actually..." He chuckled nervously unsure what would be the right tone to lay this news on her "The general is alive." He paused a bit to let her comprehend that "They want us to steal the Neshyener because our general dear has apparently had some modifications over the course of being well dead but at the moment he isn't actually he wasn't to begin withā€”"
"What?" Y/n asked standing stunned and not capturing any word after 'the general is alive' "He is alive? What?" She repeated the same question yet Jesper did not seem to be joking about it as he nodded "How? He-he is what? Aleksander?! Aleksander is alive?!" She asked in a frustrated tone as all the emotions of glee, anger and dejection went through her in just two seconds.
"Yes that is the news Zoya and her corporalki accomplice brought in theyā€”" before Jesper could finish the news y/n was already moving past him rushing down the stairs. "No y/n waitā€”" Often he did not keep Kaz's secretl well if only from Inej, Jesper preferred letting her know if he wasn't explicitly told. However he tend to take y/n's secrets to his grave because they had a history of dont-let-Kaz-know between them. Situations Inej could get them out of, however this was the first time that if Inej knew she would be far more disappointed.
At the moment as y/n rushed down the stairs she did not even think what she'd tell Kaz "What happened? Alekā€”Kirigan is what?" She asked frantically.
"He is alive apparently." Kaz said with a distasteful expression at his mention, already in a bad mood from his affronted dialogues with Inej.
"H-how? How though? Didn't he die-that day in the fold-didn't he-?" Y/n asked still comprehending this mountain of a discourse on her. Wylan shared an awkward frown with Jesper from across the room as she shrugged in replying with a gesture that couldn't keep her from rushing down her.
"The worst ones always make it out apparently." Inej commented with a nod, her belief in santka Alina was enough to fuel all possible despise for Kirigan.
Taking a deep breath in y/n nodded "Huh-so-oh-so that...so that is true?" She asked however it was more of an admission to herself.
Kaz was a bit zoned out already planning on how to steal the Nesheneyer not so quick to pick up on whatever crisis y/n seemed to be having, however Inej caught on "Are you alright, y/n?" She asked her in a soft tone.
"Mhm" she cleared her throat realising the weight of this news in the room, she straightened her back crossing her arms as if she wasn't more concerned about this than the rest of them "Yes I am just-I am surprised how he justā€”still alive. Thatā€”that rascal!" She said with a scoff to seem oblivious on the information she held on. Hoping Nina wouldn't pick up on her heartbeat, however Kaz did. Not on her heartbeat but on the way she spoke, she never often spoke half or delayed words.
Before Kaz could make a remark on that Zoya spoke "If it isn't the wedding bells I hear!" This is what Jesper tried to warn y/n about. Well not that she had volunteered to come down to the war zone she might as well face it.
"Zoya, don't." Y/n scowled hoping she would keep her jokes and remarks to herself because it was a time bomb waiting to tick off.
"What?" Kaz asked as he studied the amused reaction from Zoya that unsettled his sister "What wedding bells?"
"Zoya..." y/n urged again pleading with her eyes, it would be so much better to come up with a lie for Kaz later than have the whole scene unfold in front of everyone, not that she minded everyone but she was still getting over the news she had just gotten of Aleksander being alive.
Zoya looked around the room for once, everyone's expression oblivious as if they didn't know what she meant to imply, they truly did not. "You haven't told them have you?" She huffed.
"Told us what?" Kaz asked raising a sharp brow.
"Yes uh what-what is it that we most definitely do not know?" Wylan added trying to act just as unknown as the rest of them to whatever information was about to follow.
"Now is not the time alright?" Y/n said to Zoya shaking her head at her as she disregarded kaz's question.
"Your sister was about to get married" Zoya said as she smiled at y/n she was clearly delighted to be the one to relay this information, Kaz already had his face scrunched in a frown however Zoya added "To Kirigan."
"What nonsense!" Kaz said as he clashed his cane on the floor and stood from his chair. He did not even need to ask his sister wether this was true or not he practically knew that couldn't simply be true.
Taking a leap of confidence onto kaz's trust in her y/n stepped forward standing next to Kaz as she scoffed in disbelief at Zoya "You make up lies like these about other people is why your own life is so miserable!"
"Oh? I am the one who is making up the lie?" Zoya replied raising her brows at the sheer audacity of her to deny it with such confidence "We had wedding preparations going on for her and the general, resumed due to the winter fete." Nina could tell that Zoya wasn't lying as she pried on her heartbeat. However she kept it to herself truly not wanting to believe that kaz's sister almost married Kirigan. She wouldn't have wanted to believe so for anyone.
"Bullshit." Kaz scoffed once again with his unwavering belief of his sister's way of life, he had been writing letters to her all her time being at the little palace and she would often visit ketterdam whilst there, she never once mentioned the Kirigan. If it was as far stretched as marriage surely she would've told him.
"Do I look like I have the time and patience to fool around a group of thieves?" Zoya retorted.
"Don't flatter yourself it would take eight of you to fool the lot of us" Jesper quipped a bit offended at being referred to as a 'crook'
"Jes." Inej said keeping him from further comments, not that she minded it but the tension over y/n getting married to the shadow summoner was far worse for quips and witty remarks.
"Alright yes sure Zoya! You are absolutely right! I most definitely was madly in love with the general and I was about to get married to him and yet this entire time I did not tell my only brother about it!" Y/n remarked sarcastically throwing her hands in the air in exasperation as if she was genuinely being falsely accused.
"Y/n isn't lying." Nina said this time with wide and confused eyes.
"See!" Y/n exclaimed "Thank you Nina!"
"Noā€”you weren't lying about what you just said. Your heartbeat was steady" Nina added shaking her head to clear when exactly y/n wasn't lying.
"See!" Zoya exclaimed further with the same smug smile she had the entire time.
"Enough of this." Kaz said "Y/n, tell me the truth." He demanded as he turned to his sister who did not say anything further which secretly worried him a bit to even wonder that Zoya was right "Y/n..." He spoke again as his sister looked down to her feet but he leaned lower to follow her gaze.
"It's not that I did not wanted to tell you trust me I was about to-" y/n rambled rushing to her defence as she was aware no amount of denying could let it get past Kaz now. Gasps went across the room yet Jesper and Wylan seemed to be the most shocked as they played it out.
"You..." Kaz seethed as he felt the weight of the world crushing on his shoulders "You imbecile! You bloody imbecile! Do you have any idea what kind of a-"
"Do not raise your voice at me!" Y/n exclaimed furrowing her brows, she knew e was partially in the wrong "Do not raise your voice at me!" She said raising her voice the same volume as his.
"When were you planning on telling me?! At my funeral? Or when I'm in my grave?" Kaz scoffed at her with a million other things and questions to stay brewing inside him, at the moment he was so angry to say it all at once.
"Thisā€”this is exactly why I didn't tell you before because I knew you would react this wayā€”this" she pointed between them "this dramatically!" Y/n exhaled placing her palms on her face as she tried to calm herself.
"What exactly was it between you and that heretic?" Kaz asked with a distasteful expression.
"Well" Y/n looked around the room to stall but the horrified faces of everyone just made it worse "We wereā€”romantically involved and it just-"
"What were you even thinking?" Kaz said as his face twisted in disgust and he strolled across the room "No-what was I thinking?" He emphasised on 'I' "Sending you to little palace so you're safer there amongst your own grisha, but this entire time your foolishness was the problem? It was my fault to think you might just act your age and do anything BUT marry the worst possible man to ever walk the land but you exceed all expectations y/n!"
"Stop patronising me! I understand I should've told you earlier and I am sorry. But you are acting as if I committed an unspeakable crime!" Y/n exclaimed to her defence as she shrugged, she never considered her and Aleksander a mistake even after what he did. She simply had far better memories, a life on a more beautiful phase of itself and she did not plan to make it revolve around 'what would Kaz think of this'
"How long has this been going on?" He asked y/n yet when she did not reply with an unbothered expression so he turned to Zoya "hmm?"
"Five years or so..." Zoya said truthfully and tolya gave her look. She wasn't adding fuel to the fire, her intention may have been it but she was just being truthful.
"Four and a half." Y/n corrected rolling her eyes and Kaz's face was almost seething with uncontrollable anger, those around him had only ever seen him like this for a handful of time, so angry that he wasn't even scheming.
"You are so awfully naive" Kaz said with an irritated huff "Who else knew about this?" He asked out and turned at the faces of the rest of the crow, neither Nina nor Inej had any input. Jesper had a rather solemn face as well however Wylan's eyes were darted off everywhere else in the room "Wylan?"
"I did not know beforehand she just told me prior this week and I had no idea it would be something this huge but Jesper and I had promised her we won't tell you." Wylan blurted out, as Kaz has expected.
Jesper shut his eyes in disbelief "Wow" he mouthed at Wylan "Kirigan was presumed dead at the time otherwise we would've surely informed you."
"Oh how thoughtful of you Jesper. Tomorrow if he dies again be sure to hide things from me because what does it matter then?" Kaz rebuked and turned to y/n again "Do you realise y/n? That if all the morons in the entirety of the world had to come together and pick a leader you would surely would have no competition!"
"You are upset and I understand that but you aren't entitled to say whatever that comes to your mind because I did not tell you one thing" Y/n replied as she crossed her arms.
"I have had to protect you all my life." he spits out before he can stop himself. He's never spoken these words aloud. He's always just done it and made sure to never say it, but his emotions are all over the place right now. "I've had to keep you safe from everything so I believe I doĀ  have the right to be angry when you do something so stupid."
"I am sorry you did not left me in an alleyway or something when we were younger truly sorry to take up so much of your life!" Y/n scoffed letting out a dejected huff, it was just a bit affronting the way he spoke about having to keep her safe "All you did was have me hide somewhere or send me away to keep me safeā€”that is even after crow club. To you it is-I am your responsibility before your family."
"I think we are all just crossing lines we don't mean to we can have this conversation laterā€”"Inej tried to reason and have the siblings to stop fighting.
"No let him have at his melodrama." Y/n said with a grimacing "You know instead of all this slander if you had started planning on how we get the Nesheneyer-"
"We?" Kaz stopped her mid sentence "We" he pointed to the rest of the room "We are getting the Nesheneyer. You are not coming with us."
"What? No-what why? All of the crows are going why not me?" She asked a bit surprise that Kaz would exempt her out of nowhere.
"All of the crows did not almost get married to a monster and did not tell me about it." Kaz said as he raised his brows at her in a matter-of-fact attitude.
"What does that have to do with this? You cannot just hold that against me!" Y/n exclaimed in a high pitched voice.
"I can hold that against you. I am holding that against you." Kaz said firmly.
Y/n was getting hugely irritated at Kaz's decisions on how and where she should be situated "Well fine. Do as you must but you do realise you cannot just hold me back? I can come along on my own."
"How so?" He asked in disbelief and total faith she could not get anywhere across borders on her own.
"To serve Ravaka." Y/n replied bluntly, truly wasnt her reason but whatever worked.
"You do realise Ravaka's enemy at the moment is Kirigan himself? The man you were indulged with for five years and almost married? He is a traitor to Ravaka which makes you one as well." Kaz explained.
"We have the same blood so if I'm a traitor then you're a traitor." Y/n replied sharply.
"I can disown you then." Kaz replied with a shrug completely unbothered by the idea.
"You don't have enough time for the papers." Y/n reminded him, being disowned was kaz's very overused threat to her to stop her from doing what he did not want her to. It only ever worked until she was ten later she just came to realise he was always bluffing, even now.
"I will forge the papers." Kaz said having one solution after another, not that he would do it but just letting her know it was possible for him to do so.
"Then I will forge a passport." Y/n replied crossing her arms.
"I will lock you behind ten metal doors!" Loosing his patience to deal with his conversation Kaz exclaimed, he already had a lot more to say to her about going behind his back to run rendezvous with the darkling.
"I would love to see you try let's see if you have both hands by the end of it." Y/n threatened as Nina let out an exhale of 'saints' the siblings were getting on each other's nerves.
"I said you are not going then you are not going!" Kaz said letting out a heavy breath thinking his word would be the last.
"You are such a prick!" Y/n gave him a shove agitated that he wasn't even trying to consider what she had to say.
"I am trying to protect you!" He poked her arm with his cane in response to her shove truly leaving all the patience for a civil conversation.
That was it, the siblings were at each other's throat after that quite literally throwing hands at one another. Kaz held his sister by her collar as she tried lunge at him a few punches or so "You raggedy little man stop trying to sabotage my life!" She yelped as they continued pushing and shoving each other, throwing hands in an attempt to get the upper hand.Ā 
"That monster of your you almost married wasn't sabotaging your life?!" Kaz exclaimed poking her with his cane again once she kicked him, he bed a firm upper hand having gripped her by her collar to keep her from reaching to scratch at his face. "Got manipulated for five years almost into a marriage and I am the one sabotaging your life?"
"It isn't what you make it out to be. I dare you say that again-"
"Manipulated. He manipulated you. You dimwit-"
"You son of a bitchā€”" She was about to swear at him more when he tugged at her hair "Ow. Ow-ow." She struggled yet managing to continuing kicking him.
"We have the same mother!" He reminded her, the rest of them present in the room knew they had to intervene at some point. Inej was the first to take a step. Nina, Jesper and Wylan followed too with much struggle to get the two to separate.
Tolya gave his input as well, he simply lift y/n off Kaz as Nina stood in front of her and the others managed to get Kaz to stop poking at her with his cane "I will kill you!" She yelled at her brother still waving her legs in air to reach him.
"Not if you die first!" He screamed back struggling against the barrier of Jesper, Wylan and Inej.
"Enough..." Nina urged the two of them "Enough of this. Nobody is dying."
Kaz inhaled a sharp breath as he straightened his coat and tried to calm himself "Put me down!" Y/n exclaimed as tolya still had her mid air, and she scoffed irritatedly as she stared down Kaz. She knew if she treaded there same way with him again it would be of no point. She took a deep breath to collect herself as she rubbed her eyes.
"You can throw all the tantrums you want but you are not going with us. It is far too dangerous as it is and how do I know you won't run off to your beloved monster?" Kaz snapped as he attempted to leave the room, not wanting to have any more of this conversation he was already disappointed and mad for y/n about her and the general.
"I won't Kaz please that isn't fair I am sorry!" Y/n began with a gentler proceeding tone.
"I said no." Kaz said unmoved by her apology, even if she did mean it he was far from accepting it. He was so good at holding a grudge as it is.
"But Kaz..." her voice trailed off but Kaz was already walking out, she paced upto him "Please I am sorry I truly am. I know I upset you I was wrong and I know should've told you. Believe me I never wanted to keep you from it and I planned on telling you countless times I am sorry. I really am but for now...please let me come along. Please I have never asked you for anything all my life please just this one time let me come along." She pleaded, he could mad at her all he wished after that.
Kaz breathed in heavily as he looked like he was considering it, he looked like he did always, solemn and unreadable but if he wasn't already saying anything he was considering it. "You are not to leave my sight for once-"
"Done." Y/n replied agreeing to whatever terms he had if he planned on letting her go with him.
"You will not leave my sight for once and you are not to pull any stunts." He finished his condition with a serious expression as y/n nodded.
"I promise I won't!"
ā€”
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presidentofthelipglossclub Ā· 1 year ago
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i'm never gonna get over optimus refusing to put the rescue bots in the war. like fuck man THATS love. he cared so much he couldn't tell anyone about them. he contacted them in secret, took care of them, visited them, presumably fed them, gave them advice, and the entire time he did it in secret. he couldn't let them get hurt because of the conflict.
and i think, while this is really sweet, it's also a really good way to see into optimus' character and to observe his morality. how nice can it be if he's part of the reason they're the last ones left? how much can he help if he's never around? how much can he care if he's lying to everyone around him so that they don't find out?
the rescue bots are a very physical, unavoidable reminder of his failings. we all know optimus has a very deep sense of grief at the war, especially towards megatron. they were very close, and he feels like he failed somehow. at least with megatron, they're enemies. optimus can justify their conflict, because megatron has done terrible things. but the thing is, so has he.
the rescue bots can't be ignored. he has to directly confront his crimes because of them, because he feels an obligation to repent. his war is the reason they're in that position in the first place. the only way optimus can live with himself is to help them. and sure, he does actually grow to care about them as individuals, instead of just what they represent, but still. how can you trust someone who only sees you for what you mean for them, not what you actually are? and for optimus, how can you care about people who represent everything you've ever done wrong?
the relationships in rescue bots are highly nuanced, and this is no exception. i mean, the moral implications of the rescue bots' whole situation are enough to make a philosopher cry! (or jump for joy it depends). like, how do you justify hiding their identities while making them do literal life or death work when they have no choice to be there, are receiving no compensation, and aren't enjoying it? is that really better than being part of the war? at least there, you know you had a role in the chaos. at least you understand it.
i mean optimus himself said in the first episode that because they're the last rescue bots, they HAVE to help. he didn't give them a choice, because he wants to preserve them. and while that's a nice sentiment, he's focused on what they mean for their species, instead of who they are and what they want. right after they're told they don't have a choice, they're told that also, they have to pretend to not be sentient and have to partner and live with these random people from a different species that they know nothing about. that's, at best, a morally iffy situation.
i think we should talk more about a morally grey optimus, who keeps trying to help, but tends to misplace his sentiments. because it's clear he's trying to do the right things for everyone, but the whole thing is such a jumbled mess! for the past four million years, there's always been an enemy to fight. but here, that isn't a thing. there's no overlord trying to harm the rescue bots, there's no violence, no one is being malicious. the situation is because of a war they had no part in, and a conflict they have no place in.
i wanna see more rescue bots being upset because of that. their situation might have gotten better, and they might have learned to enjoy it, but that doesn't mean it wasn't a shitty place to put them in. and they understand that optimus really does love them, and that's why he made the choices he did, but that doesn't erase all of their hurt. they had to live as machines, only operating under orders, having others steal the credit, not getting paid, and that's only from the humans! other cybertronians don't even know they exist! that's fucked up!!
there isn't really a message or moral for this post. i just like analyzing the reasons and motivations of characters, as well as their morality.
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