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spookfished · 9 months ago

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media roundup jan 2024

hey whats up!!! its me again!!! happy valentines day :3 finally caught up to patch. and by patch i mean "talking about things that i remember reading." finally got around to reading/playing a bunch of things that were really hyped up!! that ive been really looking forward to :3 yippee also, one of my new years resolutions was to play all of umineko? which according to most people ive seen, does in fact take An Entire Year due to being 1. fully voice acted 2. a little over 1 million words. so uh, please look forward to that.

books:

camp damascus by chuck tingle: horror ya. a girl on the cusp of adulthood belongs to a strict and isolated christian sect, living in the town with the us' most famous conversion camp. things get weird quickly.um ok i was really hyped about this! its the first chuck tingle thing that ive actually read (lol) but ive been following his stuff for a while. its an interesting look into what its like to be uh, really christian and also (SPOILERS) gay, but the whole time i was like man i wish i was playing [we know the devil]. which is a really good game please play wktd :3 there were some really cool and chilling body horror parts!! which i liked a lot!! but overall it was more inspiring (?) than scary, which wasnt really what i was looking for personally

the way spring arrives and other stories: translated chinese scifi/fantasy anthology, written and translated by a team of women + nb writers. really solid!!! took me a while to get through, but theres such a wonderful variety of stories here--some are creepy, some are heartwarming, some are silly, some are elegant. i particularly enjoyed some of the essays about translation itself, as well as the titular stories and A Brief History of Beinakan Disasters as Told in a Sinitic Language. definitely check it out!!

spark joy by marie kondo: an appendix of sorts to marie kondos super big book the life changing magic of tidying up, with a couple more practical tips and some anecdotes. ok to get kinda personal, konmari stuff appeals to me bc i grew up surrounded by detritus. from where i sit in my childhood bedroom, i can see a stack of floppy disks, old checkbooks, and a copy of The Lost Treasures of Infocom--a game from 1991. almost none of it is ever touched. so the idea of having a space full of only joyful things is really appealing.. honestly i think the best bit of advice from the book was that if you have things that are necessary but dont necessarily elicit joy (eg screwdrivers, coffee makers, whatever) that you try and take a bit to appreciate/praise those items and what they do for you? and they may become more beloved :3 anyways probably not worth reading unless youre already into the whole konmari thing

ninefox gambit by yoon ha lee: space opera. kel cheris, a freshly promoted general, has been sent to suppress a rebellion lodged in a fortress. but her greatest enemy is also her greatest asset: the implanted consciousness of the prodigy traitor-general, shuos jedao. famous for winning impossible battles--and infamous for killing his entire fleet. its kind of in a trio of "lesbian sff about empires and stuff" with machineries of empire and traitor baru cormorant. well for one i really liked it. i do have a lot of hours in um games like civ 5 and starcraft but i usually dont like Reading books about military stuff. this is obstacle number 1. obstacle number 2 is that ninefox gambit has some really intricate worldbuilding, and unlike some other lesbian bodysharing scifi novels out there, our protagonist is not a newcomer. you dont get the assist of getting to learn about the world as the same time as her. but the thing is that ninefox gambit makes you Want to pick apart everything thats going on and get into it, and once you have a good idea of all the factions and stereotypes and tensions, etc it feels really rewarding :3 and the world is grounded in how you get to see what feels like every single level of this one infiltration/siege, from the general at the top to the infantry at the bottom even to the servant robots who clean! yay robots :3 when youre jumping to someone completely different, doing something totally unrelated, its pretty easy for that to be… super jarring? (hi sanderson) but it was not that <3 although it took a bit for me to get it, i also liked the intermittent correspondence that we get to see from the enemy side as well. how humanizing! it also balances a large cast of characters very well. characters with bit parts still feel memorable to the extent they need to be? idk how to say that correctly. obviously between cheris and jedao, jedao has the upper hand conversationally pretty much always but they have a good dynamic and its cool to see her strengths come through in other ways i think one of its strengths/weaknesses is that its very focused on this One siege in One point in time. i would love to hear about the anden in the sequels for example. also like does everyone have to be in a section or are there real (non conquered) civilians. how do yall grow food. also yeah sorry democracy beign the ultimate heresy made me laugh ninefox gambit is kind of a tricky read; its probably not a good idea to try reading without a stretch of uninterrupted time + brain energy but i liked it 👍 i thought it was good 👍

raven strategem by yoon ha lee: sequel to ninefox gambit! yoon ha lees ability to balance lots of different povs works really well for this book :3 it really ratchets up the tension! i also really liked seeing all of the exotics lol (magic wepaons that do crazy stuff). unfortunately the tension didnt pay off in a way that was really satisfying to me personally, however.. it didnt really help that i didnt like one of the main pov characters (brezan.) the first book is still worth reading though as a standalone!

comics/manga:

mitsuya sensei no keikakuteiki na edzuke: m/m series about a cooking writer (older man) and his editor. ok i talked about this last time but im a big fan of romance with older people in it. the baggage comes preattached!! also the protag in this kinda looks really similar to shinji from kamen rider ryuki?? has some Extremely Delicious looking food art, as well as some really nice like. food + desire + eroticism type thing going on. (i started reading it bc tumblr user stella obstinaterixatrix was talking about it as an example of non explicit eroticism!) yay i love food manga :]

sonna me de mitekure: aka look at me with those eyes. m/m romcom that parodies a lot of common BL tropes (overbearing prince of the school falls in love with some rando!) but also has a lot of heart :3 definitely only worth reading if youre like. already sort of in the soup of romance manga though lol

ouji-chan no sukina hito: suuuper cute f/f oneshot about baby prince idolization

catch you catch me: another cute f/f oneshot :3

botticelli drawings exhibit: ok i just thought this was neat. it was an exhibit about some of the preliminary sketches that were made for some of botticellis famous pieces (he was a famous painter during the florentine renaissance in italy) i like how you got to learn more about how the Workshop Style worked like how a lot of paintings were actually made by lots and lots of apprentices.. also how botticelli apparently got really into this one super duper intense monk type guy and started making some kinda weird shit

movies/tv shows:

pokemon concierge: lighthearted family show about a stressed office lady who quits her job to work at a pokemon hotel. super cute!! very short!! you can watch it with your parents or kids or whatever its really not that deep but the stop motion was just soooo cute. slightly concerning in like idk the level of 'escapism from office culture' but you know how it is

dear ex: slice of life/drama? taiwanese movie. after his father's sudden death, song chengxi and his mother meet his fathers hidden male lover. dudee this movie is so fucking pretty and so sad. i almost cried and blew up and died. all 3 main parts of the cast are such good actors and the way it does grief and like the seamless sliding between memory and the present AUGH. so good

sousou no frieren anime: also known as frieren of the funerals! a slice of life/fantasy anime about what happens after you save the world. frieren is a long-lived elf who saved the world with her companions--but many decades afterwards, she still wanders the world the same as ever. bro this show is so freaking gorgeous and well made. it really makes me wish going outside was real. has a really nice sense of melancholy too.. its just a really solid adaptation :3

dungeon meshi/delicious in dungeon anime: cooking/slice of life/adventure anime set in a dnd-like setting that digs into a lot of fantasy worldbuilding. mainly about: can you eat the monsters!!!! i finished the manga a couple months ago so i was really hyped (and a little bit nervous) about this anime but studio trigger is doing a really good job!! its just a really good show ok please watch it

marry my dead body: straight police guy gets ghost-married to a dead man, and then is tasked with solving his murder. um ok so i watched this bc i misread neils text and thought it was by the same director as dear ex. spoilers this is very much not true lmfao its more lighthearted with a side of feelings about death and stuff. very silly! i think the gulf of expectation was so wide that i couldnt enjoy it that much.. also cops. why. some of the jokes didnt really hit for me esp the whole like ahhhh slag straight guy doesnt understand anything type thing? but its like not a bad light movie

percy jackson and the olympians: remake of the first percy jackson book. yeah this was fine i watched it with my mom while playing solitaire the whole time. the actors are very charming and the show is solid, but i think it really deserved to be like. a 20-episode series with 20 minute episodes, or something like that. like its oestensibly for kids but its Really trying to make that nostalgia cash grab so it exists in a slightly uncomfortable middle (writing is very basic and friendship-y which isnt necessarily bad but its not like That Deep, but also who is making a kids show 40 MINUTES LONG). anyways i think a longer pacing like that would have given more time for filler and replicating the road-trippy vibe that the original books had. its still solid though!

games:

umineko episode 1: its the classic murder mystery setup: a wealthy man on his deathbed still hasnt resolved the issue of his inheritance. he, his hateful children, and their own children are cut off from the world on a remote island. but the man still has unsettled debts….and something is deeply wrong on the island of rokkenjima 🤯ok umineko is infamous for 1. having fans who wont shut up about it 2. something something metatextual? 3. a very high bar for entry, featuring near-required modding, several hours of expository setup, and the fact that. well. its a visual novel. that aside, i enjoyed the first episode way more than i thought i would :3 the uroshimiya family is so rich and alive and shitty it felt like i was watching succession again lmfao. battler is a very endearing (if slightly stupid) main character, and there are some really strong characters laid down that make you excited to get into All That in the future. plus, once i got to the murder part it was genuinely so hair-raising? theres some phenomenal voice acting.. the scene with maria was so memorable i thought i was going to dream about it. also i loooove beatrice <3 anyways i would recommend but its not for the faint of heart. 99% of umineko-ers stop reading right before the love lets them see it, and so on.

off game: wow im so happy to have finally beat off. i mean. hey whats up. off is a weird, abstract game about a 4th-wall breaking "Batter" whos self proclaimed goal is to purify the world. its often viewed as a spiritual predecessor to games like undertale :3 …actually, i played off a long time ago and then got stuck/intimidated by the very last set of puzzles so i Just Now gave up on actually finishing and just watched a letsplay lol. honestly one thing that ive figured out over time is that actually?? im really not that much of a fan of pokemon-style rpgs like this 0_0 i mean, the gameplay is just. not that fun? and the typical random encounter type thing is just not that nice. i think this is something that a lot of jrpgs/rpgs have figured out recently, but off is an older game without those QOL improvements lol. (also random encounter is easier to code probably) anyways!! the writing in off is so compelling…its so weird in a way that invites you to pick apart that weirdness, but also makes you feel like some mysteries might remain unresolved forever. its a video game that actually Has Writing In It. its one of those (free!) indie classics thats definitely worth checking out. also i love drawing the judge and valerie. weird cats for the win ok now im just going to talk about my theories about the game. so we know that the only real humans in the world are sugar, zacharie and the baby. however, the queen and the batter are parental figures for the baby. the wardens of each of the levels were created for the baby as it (in the absence of its parents?) longed for companionship, but they warped over time. whats healthy becomes sick and whats sickening becomes necessary etc. possibly mimicking how the baby, sick and alone in the hospital, also warped over time? becoming warped caricaturizes the babys creations and makes them cruel and so the batter becomes the ultimate heroic figure, who purges whats evil and rotten. but if it lives where i live then i guess the whole world has to go?? well idk

music:

take my hand by zerobaseone: ok whenever i listen to this imlike this is one of gods perfect songs. the production is like chefs kiss and theres just some really beautiful sounds in here? its so warmly dreamy and delicate feeling.. just like first loves… or whatever lmfao the fluttering hook-y thing at the beginning is just too good i ended up looking up a bunch of the producers. also big pop is nice bc you can tell they mixed it so it sounds good in a car OR in headphones lmfao

1,000,000 by nine inch nails: i forgot what genre nin is supposed to be ok this song came up when i was playing hifi rush (rhythm based action game!! so cool so stylish) and me and neil were like NINE INCH NAILS?! it was like that one comic you know. anyways i like this song its very adrenaline feeling. i looked up the real lyrics recently but to ME its about trying to escape emptiness thru adrenaline and danger and sex and stuff :P not that i do that but its still a fun song!! yippee

dark red by steve lacy: ok i found this song bc of a tumblr post i did not know he was the "i wish i knew" guy lmfao. honestly if people only knew like a 5 second songbite from my works id be so mad. but anyways its progressive rnb apparently? i just like this song :3 when you are kind of pathetic but basically chill with it but what if.

anyways if youre reading this: hi!!! ive been spending a lot of time recently doing the hard fisher quests in final fantasy 14. guys never do beast of brewers beacon ok the school year is just starting up but having to wake up early is kind of doing a number on me…… other than that i actually totally have my shit together! yay :3 if you read to the end (or even skimmed) thanks <3

#txt #yippee!

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6of575 · 7 months ago

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my goal is to try and make at least a post a day on here, even if its nothin very interesting to anybody else

i feel like,,, if i can finally successfully make it a habit to post and engage, it might just trick my brain from task avoidance

so! post done and heres the part for me thats fun:

(under a cut since its ramblin long)

the books im currently reading concurrently are some conlang construct books mr am got me that have been on my wishlist for ages, along with a very cool book about black holes and theories surrounding them, which mr am loaned to me from his collection

one of the things we share is a love of science and space, and more specifically, stars and time travel and all the things about our known universe that black holes straight up break

i have a lot of fun chatting with him; i really cant overstate the value of a friend so genuine, who i am never too much of, and i can talk about all my interests without the reflexive dread creeping on in

all that bullshit i learned growing up, yanno the kind: "im boring, im dumb, who could possibly enjoy swapping rock facts, much less listen to hours of it even when it our interests DONT align"

like, theres so much else about my friendship with him thats meaningful, but thats top tier right there

and lately? ive gotten a few others in my corner, who when i share, im starting to feel like that with them, too

its so weird! to have gone from one person to a tiny community of folks (and i mean little! its like,, five? six? of us max usually) that thrive on a love of the weird and the cringe and the stubborn hope

plenny others have waxed more eloquent than me about this sorta thing--how fandom spaces come sorta pre-fab with common, shared interests that its fans bring, and they build their fort and theres rules already laid out, and it becomes a second (sometimes first) home, of sorts

but when its starting from scratch, when its about stuff and is made by people that others just wouldnt ordinarily invest in or look at without outside prompting, thats not the same! its not a bad thing, more neutral, but its stressful, its really such a lonely feeling

except--when you finally find it, that person, and thats a community of its own, and it can grow, and suddenly you swappin stories, throwing jokes! and memes and links and hey inevitably, theres also those what ifs about your little guys

and everything is srs and sacred and everything is hilarious and "i cant believe this is real life" levels of stupid

you get to learn habits and quirks and whole personalities

"hey this reminded me of you" "hey, check out this view" "oh, thats right, yer the possum dude" "you love medieval lore--and i read this, and what do you think about it, too"

its suddenly kind of a fandom space after all, and its like, still work of course, reaching for and keeping more and being a person with, it aint that neat or pretty

but its got warmth and joy and expansion, after a lifetime of making yourself small enough to try and fit

you end up fans of your friends, fans of their life, hyping each other up and up and up about the most mundane shit and it starts to look like not even the skys the limit

planning things to do together, spending long hours into the night to parallel play with vidgames or watchin movies like time aint nothin thisll last forever, right? (it doesnt, always, but thats also part of this, and the ones that stay, the ones that work with you

those are the ones waking up to backread your chats like its the morning newspaper

and your life matters

like its better than the best hot goss, its saturday morning cartoons and their favour ice cream flavours

only now we adults and its also commiseratin over breakups and bills, and cross-country moves, and its celebrating that i saw chickens in the yard today and you finally got your boygirlthemsomethin gender fuckery juice)

idk idk idk

i feel some kinda way about all that

i never thought id make it so far that im nearly forty

never thought id get to ask "okay, well, now what? what do i wanna do, and try, and be?"

im... starting small i think, and im for reals happy, happier than i have been in years; i learned how to be alla my friends biggest fans, and im starting to finally believe

other people can feel that way about me

i just really think thats kinda neat

#6oftext #hexfold glories: transparent stories

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arloconroy · 5 months ago

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Story of the bar.

The sudden thud of my boots against the hardwood floor seems to alert my presence to the occupants of the entire bar, I gulp as I feel the piercing gaze of a million, well not a million but even a few eyes can feel like thousands when you're not even sure if you should be there. I manage to stop myself from shaking as I continue to walk into the bar, the sudden click and clang of the wooden door's metallic latch shutting behind me makes me almost jump out of my skin.

I keep taking steps, counting them as I go, watching my feet and examining the pattern to the wood grain, trying to make my steps match up to distinct lines that run along each floor board. I take a deep breath as I sit on the upholstered bar stool, as I pull the chair a couple inches away from the counter I pay close attention to the rough feeling of the embroidered pattern in the fabric, subtly tracing it with my fingers before swiftly sitting down, my hand gripping the counter as I try to balance myself and sit comfortably. I tap my fingers against the counter, one two three, I think to myself, one two three, the rhythm sending a calming feeling through me.

I quickly flick my eyes up, remembering to smile in the awkward way I do. "A whiskey on the rocks, please" The sentence repeats itself in my head, maybe five times as I try to get the attention of the bartender. I never do this well, thankfully I know this bartender, he's nice. He asks for my order and I manage to ask for a whiskey. He smiles and I smile back, like you do. I fiddle with my wallet, getting my debit card between my fingers The raised ridges on the card grazing against my skin as I flip it over and over again, that grazing sensation pleasing my brain in a way I've never been able to explain.

When my drink appears, I hand over the card and pay. He starts to talk to me "I've not seen you for a while, how have you been?" He asks, I take a moment to think, my eyes seeming glazed over as I stare at the slightly ripped label of a bottle of alcohol behind him. I quickly answer "I've been good, just been traveling"

"Nice, where?"

"oh, well I started by visiting Ireland for a couple weeks, which was fun a bit wet though. then I got the plane to Germany, which took so long, didn't sleep though but I did manage to catch up on some reading. See theres this new book I love and I've been meaning to finish reading the series but I keep getting distracted and not listening to it. Its an audio book by the way.." I realize, a little too late, that ive been talking for too long and probably a little too fast. The previous smile on my face fades as I start talking again, making sure to be extra quiet since I tend to start shouting like a damn banshee when I get excited "Sorry, I got a little distracted there. I've gone around a few places in Europe, visited japan too. My Japanese skills finally came in useful" I finished, talking decently slowly as I force myself to think carefully before I speak. The bartender gets back to his work and I sigh, taking a long swig of my whiskey.

I look around, my eyes a few details. Like the pealing paint in places and how the patterns in some of the wood furnishings/detailing all look like faces. Then I realize I actually have a reason to be here. Theres a certain human that invited me here. My incessant brain is already thinking of everything that will happen, already trying to think of how I should talk to them and what I should say, maybe even what they'll say, I resist the temptation to image my conversations with them out loud. I always imagine things, its why I write stories. I love to image how conversations with people would go and how my life could plan out. Like who I might meet or date or be friends with and the amount of arguments ive had with people without having them with people is insane.

I unlock my phone and check the time. I turn my phone off before unlocking it again and checking the time again, this time reading the numbers closely. converting that 19:00 to 7:00, a task that I've always liked. My foot starts to tap on the bottom bar of the stool, as I turn my phone off and unlock it a series of times. Each time trying to calm the anxious voices in my head that force me to check the messages that I clearly read and remember reading "Meet at the bar at 7:30" still I scroll through the display of messages until I see that specific one.

My nerves are slightly calmed at the almost hug like comfort the existence of this message gives me. However I see that the numbers now say 19:30 and I start to panic again, even the oddly calming routine of converting 19:30 to 7:30 doesn't seem to ease the growing panic deep in my head, in a part I've never been able to comfort.

Time tics on for a couple more minutes, the continuous tapping of my foot starting to cramp the muscles of my right leg. I force my foot to stay still and begin that same rhythmic tapping of my fingers against my leg as I stare at the un-opening door, waiting for that certain curly haired person to appear.

#story #autism #adhd #neurodivergent #writing

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jackrrabbit · 4 years ago

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Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #tw dubcon #tw sacrilege #tw christianity #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero imagines #my hero academia x reader #my hero imagines #boku no hero fanfic #smut

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slavghoul · 3 years ago

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Hi slavghoul! First of all, I'm a big fan of yours, always a pleasure to read you. You talked earlier this day about some reviewer talking about "Darkness at the heart of my love", which review or interview is that? I can't find it. Thanks <3

Thank you kindly! :))) Yes I haven't posted it yet. It is also from Sweden Rock. A very good review too - 9/10. The nitty gritty, that is, the song descriptions, are towards the middle of the text.

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Tobias Forge is undeniably a skilled communicator. Ghost is all about grand gestures, gigantic megalomania and a confidence that only a madman can match. It's easy to lose your breath even before the music takes over. Or as Papa Emeritus IV sings in the brilliant Watcher In The Sky - "Communication is key". Yes, no question about it. The key to skilful storytelling is to build the myth of yourself so that everyone gets the joke. With that attitude, you can get as far as you want.

In the book "The Rule Of Empires: Those Who Built Them, Those Who Endured Them, And Why They Always Fall", author Timothy Parsons, professor of history at St Louis University, takes the approach of exploring how ordinary people experienced imperial rule. Narratively, of course, there is an endless stream of inspiration to be drawn from the subject. I've read bits and pieces of the book and opinions differ among those who have experienced and endured a life ruled from the top by the high and mighty. The satisfaction of seeing them plunged into the abyss is undeniably there.

Creating an album in that context doesn't just mean looking back in history. Our present is tainted by stubborn powers that squirm with childishness at the slightest insult. It's an ongoing contest about who is perceived as the biggest, best and most beautiful. The book has been an inspiration for Tobias Forge's latest reincarnation of his satanic pope and his minions - Nameless Ghouls.

In Sweden Rock Magazine, of course, Papa Emeritus IV is the behemoth - bigger than all the world's leaders. Just check out the cover of this magazine. It's panache from head to toe. Or why not analyse the cover of the new album "Impera"? The papal statue has proportions on a par with the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower. Looking to the left, the surrounding buildings seem minimalist by comparison. Delusions of grandeur - check.

So, after the ravages of Black Death on 2018's "Prequelle", it's time to put back the papal robes and run through the historical ruins of the empires. And it is an absolutely fantastic journey that, after the tired consequences of the pandemic, can now finally be experienced. There's virtually not a trace here of the trite gestures found in the song disappointments "Kiss The Go-Goat" and "Mary On A Cross", released on the single "Seven Inches Of Satanic Panic" in 2019. It feels amazingly good that they were just parentheses. The problem with them was that they lacked context. They were loosely woven compositions without a whole to lean on. Ghost is an album band and needs a setting. And with one, the result is as transformative as it is unusual. Music, production, cover and performance - absolute world class.

First comes “Kaisarion” and right away we are transposed back to the 80s. "Spillways" continues with a tinkling piano, soaring guitars and of course a melody to hang tons of weight on. It's easy to get sucked into the volatile arrangements. The first single "Call Me Little Sunshine" quickly materialized into a pitch-black mid-tempo song to be loved straight through. The little gritty guitar interludes are magical in their simplicity.

In the context of empires crumbling like houses of cards, "Hunter's Moon" can be seen as the black sheep of the album. But put the song, part of the soundtrack to the 2021 film "Halloween Kills," in the sick context of Michael Myers, and it perfectly fits the cock-of-the-walk attitude as well. Again, a song that stands with at least half its body in the 80s.

It's about here that things get really hot in Tobias Forge's empire factory. The aforementioned "Watcher In The Sky" is a hit of gigantic proportions. Chugging guitars and a chorus well worthy of someone with world domination as a goal. Right on the mark. "Twenties" is an odd bird that breaks off the beat and tone quite considerably - a bit like "Cirice" does on "Meliora" (2015). Variety is good for you.

"Darkness At The Heart Of My Love" is the album’s big ballad that will hug you until you're a puddle of tears on the floor, then the Van Halen pastiche "Griftwood” recharges your batteries. Join us for another trip back to the decade most of us adore anyway.

If you're still down on the floor, it's time to get up and fuel up for the grand finale. In 'Respite On The Spitalfields', Forge is firing on all cylinders. The song is to Ghost what "Still Of The Night" is to Whitesnake. Sultry and utterly wonderful. As the guitars ride out in the song's final seconds, several planets align just right. Like I said, world class and an impressive nine. Second in a row, too.

/Original Swedish text by Jonathan Strandlund

#impera #the band ghost

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yesimwriting · 3 years ago

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Would you write a Kaz Brekker request where the reader is a bookworm and a crow and basically Kaz asks the reader to read to him as his way of apologizing after a argument that was his fault?

it a/n i did something kinda similar in a 'promise of rain' blurb,, but this concept is so cute to me:)) love it sm i moved it up my request cue lol

also IM IN COLLEGE NOW!! WHAT?? AND IVE BEEN TO A PARTY! AND IM JOINING A SORORITY AND I DID DRAMA AUDITIONS AND AHH !! SO DIFFERENT! I MISS MY MOM AND SISTER AND DOG AND EVEN MY DAD BUT IM HAPPY HERE!!

also im a little worried this might not portray kaz superrrrr accurately bc it's been awhile so just let me know,, feedback leads to improvement:)) also kinda set this up for a part 2 bc...well youll see

They've always said a lot of things about him, and I've always heard them. But I've never quite believed them. Sure, I get why the dark things that have flourished in the poisoned soil that is Ketterdam consider Kaz Brekker the darkest thing of all. I understand the nickname 'Dirtyhands' for the gloved criminal who has fooled each crime boss at least once. I understand each terrible thing they've said about him.

But I've never agreed with them. I've never even considered agreeing with them. Until today.

The thought that maybe everything people say about him is correct in a simple context struck me worse than the silence after our argument. It made me feel like both a fool and hypocrite. Kaz and I have had our fair share of spats over the relatively short time we've known each other, but never like this. Never so badly he stormed out of the room before I could. I squeeze the book in my lap even harder, desperate to focus on the words on the pages.

You didn't hurt him. He walked away because he decided you weren't worth the cost of his expensive time. I repeat those thoughts in my mind over and over again, letting them bitter me further. It's a lot easier to be mad than hurt. A lot easier to fuel your pain than try to understand your mistakes. Besides, tiredness is already dredging around in my chest and if I don't calm down a little I won't be able to fall asleep.

I had escalated the fight more than I should have. Knowing Kaz is like performing in a tightrope act. One must always be aware of where they're going. Watching what's in front of them without ever thinking too much about what's beneath or behind them. Today though, when I needed my balance most I chose to fall. I chose to dive, and apparently there was no net.

"Oh, you're doing that thing."

I roll my eyes at Jesper's voice as I fight down a yawn. I wipe my face with the back of my palm before turning. The burning behind my eyes never resulted in full tears, but I feel better after doing so. "What thing?"

"That terribly noble thing where you find it in yourself to take full blame for every single conflict you and boss man fall into." The slight humor in his voice is enough for me to roll my eyes again. "Between you and me, I'm sure the reason he's so angry now is because you didn't do that for once."

I press my lips together as my chin angles itself upwards slightly. "I never do that." He raises an eyebrow. The slight sympathy that colors the look is more offensive than his accusation. "If I pick and choose my battles, it's for good reason."

"Clearly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs once before further entering my room. I say nothing when he sits at the foot of my bed. "Oh, you know," Jesper stretches back casually, resting his back against the wall and extending his legs, "You and Kaz--Kaz and you."

Has he been drinking? Perhaps he's not here because of my unusual absence from downstairs after my fight with Kaz but because he's already too tipsy to think right. "What?"

At my confused look he grins, flashing all of his teeth with an arrogance that outshines the whiteness of them. He taps the still open book in my lap. "Let me put it in terms you'll understand." Jesper sits up a little further, amusement clear in his features. "You two make a shameful Elizabeth and Darcy--"

"Oh, shut up," I groan, glaring at him, "This isn't Pride and Prejudice. And Kaz and I," Jesper's smugness returns when I can't quite think of what I want to say, "We're barely friends--we're barely anything, let alone what you're implying."

Jesper pulls his legs up and shoves me gently. "Dearest, y/n," he ignores my glare, "You should know better than anyone that 'barely friends, barely anything' with Kaz is more than it is with anyone else?"

"That doesn't mea--"

"You two say goodnight to each other." Once. Kaz and I said good night to each other in front of Jesper once. How dare he assume it happens regularly? He's right, but that doesn't mean I'm okay with it. "You play cards with him. Not for money, not for skill--"

"It's for practice." The look Jesper gives me is enough to tell me that my defense didn't land.

Damn him for ever finding Kaz and I on one of those strange nights. One of those nights in which he lurks at the stairwell...the one that divides my room and his attic. One of those nights in which it feels like he's a phantom and I'm the only one that can really see him. A night in which we both silently find each other.

I couldn't quite believe it the first time it happened. I'm not exactly a Crow--I don't feel enough a connection to the Dregs to join them without some kind of guarantee--but I was needed for some obscure job. but I was needed for some obscure job. The Crows needed an insider who could blend into high society, and I needed a place to stay away from my father.

It worked. I worked. And with each passing day I found myself enjoying the Crows more and more. That's why I stayed. That's why I started checking the stairwell practically every night, a set of playing cards in my hand.

The first time had been awkward. I couldn't sleep and my room felt too quiet, but the rambunctious club felt too loud and a little unsafe considering the hour. So I settled for the only space in between. When Kaz found me sitting on the steps and playing a solitary card game I had been so stunned by embarrassment I just offered to deal him in. I had been more shocked when he silently accepted my offer.

"Practice?" Jesper repeats. "You were laughing, I heard you."

"That was one time--how do you know we didn't just happen to play cards together the one time you saw it?"

"Because you laughed about a play you considered 'predictable'."

Sighing, I sit up a little straighter. "I'm not having this conversation. Occasionally saying 'goodnight' to someone who lives in the same space I live in and sometimes playing cards with said person because we both happen to be up at a certain time doesn't mean anything."

"And the way he looked at the contact that was flirting with you?"

Oh...this conversation again. "For the last time, the contact wasn't flirting with me. We had to dance to blend in and when he leaned towards me to whisper in my ear...it was to tell me the intel Kaz just had to have."

"And when he tucked that strand of hair behind your ear?"

"He just wanted to sell our cove--"

"Y/n, he kissed your cheek and I'm fairly certain he would have kissed you if Kaz and I hadn't made it to the corridor at that second."

Why is everyone so obsessed with what would have never happened? The contact had been attractive, tall with fair eyes and hair. But it's not like I feel anything for him, nor would I have been so foolish during a job. A fact that Kaz refuses to believe. I'm tired of this argument...I'm just tired. This job required me to start getting ready early in the morning and lasted long into the night.

"I wouldn't have kissed him and even if I had, the fact that Kaz is so mad about feels...sexist." A stupid argument, considering that Kaz couldn't care less if the person he's working with is female, male, or anything in between because the only thing he cares about is profit. "It's a stupid thing to be mad about, but you hit on anything with a pulse at any time and--"

"I resent that--"

"For the first two weeks I was here I thought you might've been a prostitute."

I can feel him holding in a laugh. "Did you at least think I was a good prostitute?" When I glare again, he finally actually laughs. "Not the point--got it."

"Then what is the point? You're bored and obsessed with gossip so now you're shaking me for information you don't need."

"The point is you're oblivious." Rude...I move my leg in a weak attempt to push him off my bed. Jesper catches my ankle easily, ignoring my attempt at a fight. "You thought the contact was only doing his job and you don't know the real reason that Kaz blew up at you for the first time the way he blows up at everyone."

"Okay, well since you know everything, tell me why he's mad."

He lets out a sigh like he can't believe I even needed to ask that. "It's not the best look that the first time you let him pick a fight with you happens to be about some guy."

...Maybe he is drunk? "Don't be so cryptic. I don't like you enough to put up with that."

Jesper half-sighs again before pushing himself off my bed. "I'm going to pretend I think you're smart enough to piece things together from that."

"Asshole," I mumble instinctually as he walks towards my door. "Are you not telling me because I tried to push you off the bed?"

He turns when he reaches my door in order to lean against my door frame. "It's not not because of that." I should throw my book at his head. "In all seriousness, think about it. If you don't you'll either kill each other or kill me."

Ugh...he's so confusing. This time, I let him go. He leaves he door open, which is beyond annoying. I stand up to close it, promising myself I will focus on my book the second it's in my hands again. As I walk back towards my bed, my eyes land on the deck of cards on my nightstand.

Does it send a signal I don't want to send if I don't go the stairwell tonight? Do I want to send a signal? I don't know...actually, the only thing I know is that I don't want to think about this a second longer. I don't ease as I read, but my eyelids become heavier with each word they cross. I feel the weight of them as my focus slips, farther and farther away until I can no longer focus. When my eyes fall shut I can't bring myself to think or force them open.

I notice my surprised before I register that I've just woken up. Falling asleep feels so far and yet the crick in my neck confirms the obvious. Rubbing the eyes with the back of my hand, I push my book from my lap and sit up. The only indication of how much time has passed is how much my bedside candle has melted.

How long have I been asleep? How did I manage to fall asleep? I thought I was too mad at Kaz to manage anything but pouting in my room. I hadn't even decided if I wanted to talk to him.

I stand even though I haven't decided anything. I should at least change if I want to go to bed. But is leaving this alone for even longer a bad idea? I think Jesper thought so...though my conversation with him is far from clear. It's not the best look that the first time you let him pick a fight with you happens to be about some guy. I'm going to pretend I think you're smart enough to piece things together from that. What does he want me to do with that?

Maybe he was partially intoxicated and felt the need to play the role of a good friend. Or maybe this is his idea of a joke.

Whatever--regardless of Jesper, I have a choice to make. A tiny part of me hopes it's insignificant, but I know Kaz enough to know that nothing is insignificant to him. He holds onto things the way he holds onto his kruge. Perhaps I'll seek out Inej, she seems to be the best at rationalizing. Though she might be asleep by now, or on a job or...I don't even know.

How late is it? Is it late enough to be one of the few hours Kaz claims to reserve for sleep? Maybe my bad luck is still around and he's already in bed for once. Does that mean his anger will extend to tomorrow?

I shouldn't care. It's not like I'm in the wrong. Did I escalate things? Maybe a little...but I won't apologize for defending myself. Even though that makes everything a little easier. I feel stuck, like in some kind of place of half sleep. A single knock at my door is enough to make me want to jump. I rub my eyes a little more firmly in hopes of waking up more before someone sees me.

I approach the door without worry. Maybe it's not as late as I assumed. Or maybe it's really early? I open the door while still fighting against my slight disorientation. I'm so focused on acting normal, I almost don’t register the person standing at my door.

I don’t know who I expected, or what--maybe Jesper, much more tipsy than he was before, slumped against the doorframe, only knocking because he’s too tired to push the door open. Maybe even Inej, on her way here to deliver some kind of job or notice of dismissal. But it’s nothing I could expect. It’s...Kaz.

The Dirtyhands stands at my door, expression as hard as ever yet something behind his eyes that burns the sleep away from me. “Uh--hi.” I bite my tongue to avoid cringing at that very awkward beginning. “Are you here to kick me out yourself?” The only response I get is the slightest shift of his gaze off of my face. “No? Well then I think I’m going to bed. It’s late.”

My tone and words are clear. Get out of my doorway, I’m in no mood to go back to arguing. When he still doesn’t say anything, I’m emboldened by my nerves. I push the door between us without breaking eye contact.

Before the wood can meet the doorframe, he moves his cane, wedging it between us. “Y/n.” I don’t understand the way he says my name, but I’m certain he’s never said it like that. “I...” When he’s not prompted by the uncomfortableness of silence, I raise an eyebrow, my grip on the door tightening. “What I said shouldn’t have been said.” Wait--is he admitting fault? I’m so thrown I almost melt entirely. “Not to you.”

The addition leaves him so lowly a part of me wonders if I’ve imagined it. I’m so thrown by it I don’t even think to reply until a long second has passed. “You seemed to believe the opposite a few hours ago.”

His lips press together for a moment. “You didn’t ask me to play cards tonight.” He took that as intentional? At least that got me some kind of apology? I keep my mouth shut, greed making me want more information. I guess he must sense my silent tugging because he head inclines slightly. “Don’t push.”

I fight down a grin. “Push what?” His only response to stiffen further. “I’m going to tell you something as a peace offering.” That seems to intrigue him in some way. I can’t tell if it’s a good kind of interested, but I note the slight raise of his eyebrows and his intentional silence. “I didn’t chose not to ask you to play cards.” He gives me no indication of anything, which is fair...considering my vagueness. “I was mad, obviously, and in the middle of deciding on a course of action...and then I fell asleep.”

A long pause of silence. “You fell asleep?”

I’m not sure if his incredulous tone should offend me or not. If I wanted to lie, I’d like to think he knows me well enough to know that I’d have thought of a better excuse than that. Or at least a less embarrassing one. “Yes, it’s not that difficult to believe. Today had been long and all I wanted to do was read, but then Jesper came in to say the oddest things and then leave me to...”

Oh--oh. I guess there’s a reason people say to ‘sleep on’ something. Because now, actively remembering Jesper’s words for the first time since I fell asleep...I understand what Jesper was implying in the oddest way possible. He meant that Kaz and I...that perhaps there is a Kaz and I in a context that’s more than just grammatical. Wow. I really had to realize this with Kaz right in front of me.

My face feels warmer than it did before, an irrational bout of anxiety forcing me to consider that me might be able to read impossible, embarrassing thoughts from my expression alone.

“What did Jesper say?” I’m too lost in my own spiral of confusion and panic and some feeling I can’t recognize to register how Kaz asks his question. There’s an edge to it, an odd one, but that could easily just be Kaz.

This is most definitely the last conversation we need to be having. I’m still mad at him for his earlier dramatics. So I just shake my head, feigning an exhaustion I could lose myself in. “Nothing and everything all at once.” I resist the urge to rub my eyes again. “I’m pretty sure he was drinking, and I wasn’t really listening. I was just trying to read.”

Kaz’s expression hardens briefly as he takes in my words, and then he exhales, nodding once with the breath. “What were you reading?”

My lips part instinctually, ready to spew off details about the latest novel that’s captured my attention. But before I can let myself take off, the reality of the situation strikes me directly in the chest. This is not Nina, or Inej, or even Jesper after what he considers a ‘good night’. This is Kaz Brekker, the man believed to not have a soul. I’ve spoken to him before about casual things, though most of the nights in which we end up playing cards or just sitting near each other are spent in silence. But he’s never prompted me before. Not in the one topic he knows is guaranteed to turn me into an overenthusiastic, gushing fountain of poor summaries and character analysis.

I guess this is his peace offering. This shouldn’t warm the way it does. He was still unbelievably dramatic and treated me like I’m some kind of unreliable fool. “It’s late, and you know how I can be. I’d hate to keep you for nothing more than a poor summary and honestly, an embarrassing rant about plot or characters, because there’s just nothing as frustrating as when two people so clearly care about each other and both are too stubborn and oblivious to acknowledge it.”

Kaz’s eyebrows draw together just enough for me to be able to make out a shift of expression in the poor light. Perhaps his lingering irritation is preparing to rear its ugly head. The corner of his mouth seems to threaten to tilt upwards as Kaz angles his head to the side slightly. “I can’t imagine that position.”

No kidding. I bite my tongue to keep the sarcastic comment and awkward laugh that would sure follow it away. “Who can? That’s like half the point of reading.”

How can interaction feel so over and just at its beginning all at once? I press my lips together to avoid filling the silence with things I’d no doubt instantly regret. It’s easy to be mad at Kaz in the moment. Too easy. But to stay mad at him when his temper has passed and he returns with some kind of begrudging and admittedly awkward and uncertain truce is another task entirely.

“I’ve never understood your attachment to written words.”

“It’s not about understanding, it’s about everything else.”

“And you say I’m cryptic.” Is he...kinda almost joking? I straighten my spine, too tired to fight and too wounded to forgive. “There’s understanding in everything, nothing can survive on sentiment alone.”

“If you read the way I did, you’d understand.”

His lips press together as his expression remains unwavering in its hardness. “Read to me.”

...Interacting with Kaz in any way often leaves me feeling like I’m wandering through unknown territory. But this, this is undeniably different. So different I can’t even think of a way to react. I watch his expression as cautiously as possible. He’s purely reserved, no distinction from the look he wears during business propositions. Except there’s a tightness I can’t quite understand.

Maybe it’s because I don’t want to fight anymore. Maybe it’s because exhaustion is leaving me partially delirious. Or maybe it’s the weird feeling in my chest that I can’t quite place. That I don’t want to place. “Okay.” I shift carefully. “If for no other reason then to prove you wrong.”

Never did I think I’d end up in the position of sitting in my bed, book in hand, with Kaz Brekker sitting next to me. But here we are. I’m so tired, I almost let out a nervous laugh when he first walked in. So brooding and tall, gripping the head of his head cane as he sits at the foot of my bed, on my pastel quilt.

I’m glad for the excuse to keep my gaze away from him and on the words in front of me. I read out loud, feeling more and more comfortable with each page I finish. But as my inhibitions slip away, so dos my hold on consciousness. My eyelids seem to grow heavier with each word that I read.

“You’re falling asleep.”

I straighten my spine on instinct. “Am not.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to deny something so simple.

“You’re impossible.”

From him, that statement is laugh worthy. “I’m impossible? Do you not remember earlier today?”

From the way his jaw locks, I realize that he’s in no mood to be light about this topic. I don’t understand why. It’s not like I’m the one that wronged him. “I remember your lack of focus.”

Keeping my hands at my side to avoid rubbing my eyes, I frown. “If you want to have this argument again, fine. Jesper is more ‘distracted’ than me half the time and you’re much more lenient on him. It’s not like I was flirting with someone or gambling or doing anything but having a two second conversation. One that I needed to have to get information that you wanted.”

The last time we fought, I had more energy to restrain myself. This could be atomic. I hold my breath, waiting for Kaz’s retaliation. He exhales, eyes not meeting mine. “Arguing with you when you’re present is exhausting enough. It’s not worth it when you’re half asleep.”

This angers me further. I hate that he’s right. “I’m not half asleep.” He leaves it at that. I glare even harder at him, slumping further into my bed. “But for the sake of argument, I’ll drop it. Something you’re incapable of doing.”

At that, his eyes meet mine. I try to hold his gaze, but the harder I think about not seeming tired the more exhaustion slips in. A yawn escapes me before he looks away. Great. “I know when to lie in the grass in wait.”

Rolling my eyes, I shift back slightly. He’s incapable of being less dramatic than this. Still, I can’t imagine the effort it’s taking on his part to not start an argument. Maybe this is why Jesper spent so long implying that there may be a Kaz and I in any capacity beyond a vague kind of friendship. “I’ll admit you’re tactful.”

“Resourceful people recognize that trait in other people.”

Blinking twice, I lower my book slightly. Am I truly exhausted, or did he just compliment me in a way? “Careful, I may start to think you find me tolerable.”

“Let’s not exaggerate.” Okay, now I know I’m exhausted because I think he might have just attempted a joke. Rolling my eyes, I decide not to acknowledge this lightness in fear that I’ll scare it away. “Y/n?”

I press my lips together, worried about the destruction of our peace. “Yes?”

“What did Jesper say to you? Earlier?” I pause, slightly unsure why we’re moving backwards.

We’re in a decent place now, and I’d hate to ruin it. I’m too half asleep to lie eloquently. And it’s not like he’s an easily convinced man. “Oh, he said it so cryptically it took me longer than it should have to understand. And it didn’t help that it was something so...well, you might find it funny. As funny as you find anything, anyways.” Wow...I’ve spent such a long time talking. Rubbing the back of my eyes, I avoid his gaze. Exhaustion and awkwardness mix in my stomach oddly. “It seemed like he was trying to imply that you and I...me and you...” Why is this a difficult thing to say? It’s not like I was implying it and Jesper’s known for his oddness. “I think Jesper was implying that there was a you and I, or at least that there could be.” I’m too lost in a haze of almost sleep to watch his reaction. I let my head rest against my headboard even further. “Isn’t that odd?”

He’s quiet for a long second, and then he finally speaks again. “Odd, even for Jesper.” The response doesn’t satiate me...what’s that about? I exhale, deciding that feeling is tomorrow’s problem. When I blink, I decide to let my eyes stay closed. Just for a moment. The sound of something shifting is what makes my eyes squint open. Kaz is standing, his expression unreadable as he straightens. “Goodnight, y/n.”

At that, I sit up slightly, ignoring the exhaustion behind my eyes. “I haven’t finished the chapter.”

“You’ve convinced me of enough.” A concession? How exhausted do I seem? My lips press together as I think of my next argument. Before I can get it out, Kaz leans forward. He grabs the quilt at the end of my bed and tosses it onto my legs casually. “Goodnight, y/n.” The meaning of his repetition is clear. His word is final.

I find enough energy to manage a glare, but I pull the quilt over my legs anyways. “Goodnight, Kaz.”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x you #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone imagines #six of crows #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows show #shadow and bone show #six of crows netflix

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nakedbibi333 · 3 years ago

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hi! im kind of new to law of assumption and old to law of attraction. law of assumption is not a hard concept but im a bit confused. i find myself reacting to the 3D too much and like i find it hard to persist? what do i do to make persisting easier? i think it’s because i don’t know much about what im getting into?? all i know is affirm and persist and etc. i hear things like time is an illusion, the 3D is an illusion, circumstances don’t matter, we are all gods of our reality. but WHERES the proof?? i can’t blindly follow people’s success stories because im not them and if we are truly the gods of our realities, doesn’t that mean someone else can manifest failure in mine? like i want to use law of assumption and i want to believe to get what I want fast and easily BUT i want to know how it works and that im not following a delusion to make myself feel better and in the end, I am just left with disappointment and failed attempts at manifesting that left me with the consequences of my actions. ive been in the community for almost 2 years and i don’t think ive ever gotten results. i am not usually agitated but it’s exhausting. i affirm and persist and nothing shows up and im worried im doing it all wrong so i ask and now I’m even affirming wrong?? I know manifestation is supposed to be easy and not feel like a chore but how can it not when everything I desire is of so much importance to me. I can even dm you, just please help me so I can actually manifest what I want. I’ve done self concept but I keep breaking. I don’t even know what affirmations to use to combat my limiting beliefs. Tbh I’m tired. I feel like if someone explained to me how this works and how to do it with no mistakes and how to keep faith in the unseen, I could actually get what I want. I keep failing and failing because I affirm and persist but I affirm wrong or I have a limiting belief that hasn’t been uncovered yet. I’m so exhausted and I just want to get what I want. I just feel like if someone told me how it works and exactly what to do, I wouldn’t be so confused and find it hard to persist

Hi! Okay, so since this is a very long post, I will try to answer each of your questions/concerns in the order you mention them.

So about persisting, I can understand how it seems a bit complicated. You persist when, after a certain period of time, you still don't see movement of your desires manifesting OR if you see the OPPOSITE of your desires manifest. Oftentimes, when you finally open up your mind to the idea that your mind creates your reality, then some past doubts and fears can manifest as well. Your mind will often try to manifest opposite things in order to make you feel like you are doing something wrong, which is why so many loa teachers say to persist. It can be very difficult for people to persist, which is why so many people feel like they can't manifest, or that manifestation isn't real, because their 3D reality has too much weight in their lives, so they take it as truth and end up giving up on their desires manifesting. It's important to begin to believe that your 3D reality is extremely malleable and is only a reflection of your inner reality. You need to take the power away from the 3D and give it to yourself and your ability to create exactly what you want.

Then you ask about proof of manifestation. It is very true and understandable that other people's success stories are not enough for many people because you want to be able to trust the information that you are going to be getting into. Personally, before getting into manifestation, I already had my fair share of unexplainable success stories in my life, so it just seemed like an answer to the questions I've had all my life. Even with these success stories and experiences, when I first got into manifestation, I still would doubt myself by wondering if it was simply a coincidence these things happened, or worse, that I was becoming delusional. I want to tell you that every single person who is now into manifestation has gone through this feeling. We all worry that we are just doing "wishful thinking" and being delusional because the world we have grown up in has always been so practical. It's not easy to believe in something that seems so impossible without any previous personal experience. So, the only advice I can give you for this is to try to manifest extremely small things to build your faith over time, such as seeing a yellow butterfly, getting your favorite food, or seeing some sort of sign, so that you would know that what we are talking about is actually the truth. Also, there are so many documents that go more in-depth on how our minds create our reality, including CIA documents and books about the science of manifestation, such as books by Joe Dispenza, and books about the subconscious mind, such as books by Joseph Murphy, and many many more. Since the only way, you will really believe in manifestation is by having your own experiences, then manifesting small easy things is probably the best route.

Then, you mention how you're worried about "someone manifesting failure into your reality." My view on this is that you are the only person who can affect your life and nothing can happen to you that you don't specifically manifest into your reality (whether it be consciously or unconsciously). Everyone can manifest, yes. Everyone has control over their reality. You can even manifest people acting in certain ways towards you. But that's in your experience specifically. If we are talking about quantum physics, time is not linear, technically all possibilities of all time, ever, exists right now. We also shift through different realities at every moment depending on our mindset, beliefs, and decisions. So, if someone manifests something in their life that would affect "you" but does not align with your thoughts and beliefs, then it won't show up in your reality. You have control over your own reality, nothing comes into your life without you allowing it, so that's a very empowering thought, in my opinion. I really suggest that you affirm this so that you don't have to worry about others manifesting negativity over your life because you would never personally decide to manifest it into your own life.

I also want to talk about how you worry about affirming wrong or simply manifesting wrong. It's Important to note that these beliefs can also negatively affect your manifestation because that is not you truly living in the end. If you were living in the end, you would know that simply deciding that you want this to happen, means that it will happen and that it has to happen. You never need to doubt your manifesting process because your subconscious mind is so powerful and it is so easy to make it do things for you! Just like what @divineangelbee says, you can COMMAND your subconscious mind and it will listen and give you exactly what you want. You don't have to visualize or affirm or do anything. Simply tell your subconscious exactly what you want it to do and trust that it listens! I really think that the reason that you have not been having too much success is because of this, that you are constantly doubting your methods which keeps you from truly living in the end.

Then, about limiting beliefs. It can be beneficial to people to be aware of their limiting beliefs. However, there has been such an intense focus on limiting beliefs in the loa community (mostly on youtube) that I see so much. Coaches keep you focused on the problem of limiting beliefs so much that they don't actually help you move on from them. Personally, I found that whenever I focused on my limiting beliefs, it was like living in the old story. (if you don't get this reference, I seriously suggest you read or listen to Neville Goddard's lectures in which he talks about the law of assumption. They are life-changing). Focusing on limiting beliefs keeps you stuck in that story you are telling yourself about your life. It keeps you from overcoming them and becoming limitless. It helps me to affirm that my limiting beliefs no longer have the power to hold me back. I don't have any more limiting beliefs because I manifested not having them anymore. Manifestation works in many different ways, and a lot of people don't realize that you can simply manifest your desired mindset as well. I suggest trying this!

So, to make this as clear as possible, I will tell you how I personally manifest (disclaimer: people manifest differently, many different things work for different people, I am not saying this is the only or best way to manifest, but this is just what works for me).

First, I get my idea of what I want to manifest. Usually, I want to manifest multiple things at a time, there really is no limit.

Then, I will decide what will help me "feel it real" and "live in the end." This can include techniques, but I don't use techniques every time. I don't like to visualize because I am personally a maladaptive daydreamer, so visualizing makes me feel like I am daydreaming, which keeps me from really feeling like it's really happening. (But, if it works for you, by all means, go for it) I may print out a picture if it's a physical item in order to trick my brain into having something physical that represents this or adding it to a Pinterest vision board (I am a very visual person, so it always works for me). I also like to make a list of what I want just to keep it in a place that I can go back to and mark off in the future, telling my brain that this is a goal I need to achieve (I find that my brain loves to check things off of my goals, it makes my subconscious mind already start working towards the goal). But most of the work goes into my mindset. I don't affirm a lot because I feel like it becomes a chore if I have to recite affirmations all day every day. I may put up affirmations on my chalkboard or put them on my computer, but I don't make it a habit to really say them at specific times, etc. I really focus on making myself feel deserving of getting my manifestation and I also live in the end. Living in the end is where you feel confident that your desire is already yours. If it helps, which it does for me, I like to believe that I have it already in the "quantum field," or the 5D, or however you believe in it. It is not about being delusional and pretending like you have it, no, it's about feeling trusting in your own power to make this happen for you and it will come, no matter what.

After that, I "drop it." I don't forget about it or stop desiring it, that's not what letting go means. It means that I know that I don't need to do anything or force anything to happen because my subconscious, or the universe, will bring this to me and I don't need to worry about anything related to my desire. I also self-regulate my emotions by meditating, focusing on the things that make me happy, and reminding myself of how powerful and capable I am.

Then, eventually, it manifests. Or, if it doesn't come in the timeframe I wanted it to, or if something that would oppose my desire pops up, I focus on my own self-concept, making sure I genuinely feel deserving of and that I can get what I want, and I persist in that feeling that my desire is still mine. No matter if I got rejected, no matter if they told me I couldn't get the job, no matter if it looks like it won't happen. I still persist. and then it comes.

Finally, I want to mention that I am only here to give advice and I can't make anything physically happen for you. To see actual movement in your reality, you need to be willing to go through failures in order to find out what works for you. I have had manifestations fail, I have had MANY manifestations fail. It's not always a perfect process. I don't charge money, my identity is not on this page, I am not here to be a famous coach or to act like I know any better than anyone else. I am just trying to help you guys reach the point that you deserve to get to in your life. But I can only do so much. I really hope this helps.

#ask #advice #long post

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luminnara · 4 years ago

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It’s Been a Long, Long Time | Ch 6

Summary: When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back...and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!

Part One | ... | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

Tags: @kyrah-williams @oceanmermaidwitch @shawnie--jo @super-cape @ferxaniti @namjoonwatcheshentai @fandomsstolemylife00 @youngblood199456 @nightlygiggless @darlingely @ bluemoon-icecream @kaz11283 @jenjen8675309 @dollfacev8 @witchinpractice @mystical-b3ar @sukeraa

Bucky refused to leave the omega’s side while she stayed in the lab. Bruce had to stop him from trying to crawl onto the bed with her, and after about the third time, he convinced the super soldier to just pull up a chair like a civilized person and hold her hand while she drifted off to sleep again. Now that she was with her alpha, she had settled down for another nap, more interested in resting than answering any more questions so long as Bucky stayed and kept an eye on her.

Steve had to admit, it was endearing. He had never seen his friend so absolutely enraptured like this. Whenever the omega, or Ten, as Bruce was still calling her, shifted in her sleep, Bucky’s eyes were snapping over to make sure that she was okay. Whenever she let out a little whimper, he was purring and stroking her hair. Whenever she seemed like she might wake up again, his attention was completely on her.

“So...sure you don’t remember her?” Steve asked, pulling up a chair. He had left for a few hours to work out, and after a lack of updates from FRIDAY, he headed back down to check on everything. They were exactly as he had left them, which was a good sign. At least nothing was getting out of hand.

Yet.

Bucky shrugged, rubbing the back of the omega’s hand with his thumb. “I dunno. It’s...foggy.”

“Well, it seems to me like you’ve either got a history together, or she’s mistaking you for someone else.” Steve said. “Quite frankly, it’s hard to do the latter.”

“I’ve dreamt of her.” Bucky said quietly.

“...what?”

“It’s not much, but...I’ve seen her face.” Bucky looked down at her. “I think that no matter how many times HYDRA wiped my memory, she’s always been in there. Kinda like the one constant that was always around, the one thing I could always count on being in the base with me.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Steve asked.

“Never knew if she was real or not.” Bucky sighed. “I thought...maybe she was just something my mind made up to fill some of the gaps. But she smells exactly like I remember.”

Steve sat back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched his friend. Bucky wasn’t snarling anymore, most of his attention trained on the omega while she slept. Now that he was close to her, he had calmed down significantly, though he still wouldn’t let Steve within five feet of her bed.

“Just got off the phone with Tony,” Bruce announced, walking in. “He and Pepper will be back tonight. Pepper’s having some clothes and personal items delivered for our new omega friend here. They also asked about renovating a more permanent room for her, but I, uh...told them I wasn’t exactly sure what the situation would be.”

“She’s staying with me,” Bucky said immediately.

“Now hang on, hang on,” Steve leaned forward.

“Steve,” Bucky growled. “I want her with me.”

“Buck, you don’t even know her—“

Bucky interrupted him with a loud snarl, the omega in question whining and squirming in her sleep at the sound of it.

He immediately shut up, brushing a thumb over her cheek and shushing her until she was sleeping soundly again. Fuck, he felt so stupid. What was wrong with him? She could have woken up, or been scared, or upset, all because he couldn’t keep his big mouth shut. She needed her rest, and he needed to stay quiet.

Steve almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Oh, Buck,” he shook his head. “You’re in deep.”

—

Amoretta woke feeling well rested, and it wasn’t until she tried to stretch and felt the tug of her IV drip that she remembered where she was. Opening her eyes revealed the bright lights of the lab, and as she started to sit up, a few faces came into view.

“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty,” Bruce said. “How are you feelin’?”

She licked her lips. “Juice box. Now.”

“Way ahead of you. Had this one waiting as soon as you started waking up.” He tossed one to her and was pleased when her hand shot up to catch it. “Reflexes look good. Vitals are all reading normal. I’ll have to run another test to see what’s going on with those suppressants, but I’m willing to bet you’re metabolizing them fairly quickly now. How are you feeling?”

She pulled the little straw off the back of the carton and jammed it into the top. “Nauseous. Like usual.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Side effect of the suppressants?”

“Always has been. Other than that...I feel great, actually.”

“Well, as soon as these wear off, we can figure out something nicer and more modern for you. If you want to use them, I mean.” Bruce shrugged. “Your choice.”

She smiled. “Choice. I like that.”

“Hey, we’re all about independence here,” Steve said happily. He was glad to see she was awake, even though Bucky wasn’t.

The other alpha was still at her side, but, as of about half an hour ago, he was napping. Steve made a mental note to never let him forget the way he slept straight through the one moment he had been waiting for all day.

“What time is it?” She asked. “There’s no windows in this damn place.”

“Just after dinner,” Bruce chuckled. “You slept most of the day. Bucky hasn’t left your side.”

She looked over to her soldier, smiling warmly at the sight of him sleeping. He was even snoring softly. “I haven’t gotten to see this in forty years.”

“Did you two, uh…” Steve cleared his throat. “Spend a lot of time together?”

The omega laughed. “You always this awkward around girls?”

“That’s not—“

“Relax, I’m just giving you a hard time.” She sucked on her straw. “But...yeah, we did.”

“So...you were just kept for his ruts, or…” Steve was so awkward it was almost endearing. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I think.”

“It’s okay. I know my lot in life.” She kept her eyes trained on Bucky as she spoke. “But if I’m going to answer more questions, I want to get out of this bed. And I want real clothes. Then I’ll talk.”

And so, only several minutes later, Bruce was handing her a sweater and some shorts he had grabbed from a little stash of extra clothing, and Bucky was startled awake by Ten stepping past him. She was finally free from all the tubes and cords that had been sticking out of her during her little hospital stay, and she was all too eager now to explore the tower.

She stood on wobbly legs, almost falling onto him when she tried to take a step. Bucky was up in a flash, ready to catch her, and as she fell against his chest, he wrapped his arms around her. Despite just waking up, he felt fully alert, completely ready to tend to his omega’s every need.

His omega...he liked that train of thought.

“We can head up to the common area. It should still be quiet.” Steve said, leading the way out.

Bucky kept an arm around his omega’s waist as they followed, Bruce bringing up the rear. He wanted to be touching her at all times, constantly in contact so that he couldn’t lose track of her. His instincts were roaring to life, demanding that he do everything in his power to make sure that she was safe and in his line of sight. The elevator ride was tense and full of possessive growling, Bucky constantly shoving Ten behind him to keep her in the corner and as far away from Steve as possible, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the doors slid open and they could step out of the cramped space again.

The common area was empty, thankfully, FRIDAY informing them that the other Avengers were all either working out or in their private quarters.

“Good,” Steve said, heading towards the couches. “No interruptions. Got it, FRIDAY?”

“Understood, Captain Rogers.”

“C’mere,” Bucky mumbled, pulling his omega down to sit on one of the couches with him. Part of him was feeling a little sheepish and self conscious of his behavior...but the rest of him didn’t give a shit. The others could stare and shake their heads all they wanted, but he’d be damned if he let Ten slip through his fingers again.

Or whatever her name was.

Steve and Bruce sat across from them, making sure that they left as much space as possible between themselves and the new omega. Neither of them had ever seen Bucky behaving quite like this--he was on guard, hyper aware of everything around him. He made sure that she was pressed up against his side, an arm draped possessively over the back of the couch so that it was unmistakable that she was with him.

Christ, what had gotten into him? He couldn’t remember ever acting this way about an omega before.

“So…” Steve cleared his throat, sitting with his elbows resting on his knees.

Bucky didn’t really like the way his posture made him lean forward towards his omega, but he could deal with it for now. “So.”

“What do you wanna know?” Ten asked, plucking at Bucky’s shirt. She seemed to be even clingier with him than he was with her, perfectly happy to be hanging off him or tucked up against his side. “You met my demands. I guess I’m an open book now.”

“I don’t want to overstep my bounds,” Steve said. “We just need to know as much as you’re willing to share.”

“Then ask a question.”

“...Alright.” he cleared his throat again. “You said HYDRA used you to help with Bucky’s ruts?”

Ten nodded, her expression remaining even and cool.

“Could you tell us more about that?” Steve glanced at Bucky. “Were there ever any other omegas, or anyone we should know about?”

“There were omegas before me.” she answered. “When I first got to the compound, there were a lot of us. They kept us all in big cells, so everyone talked. People said things about how HYDRA was grabbing omegas off the street for their super soldiers, and how the one at our base was the biggest and scariest.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at her tone. He wasn’t exactly sure what he expected her to sound like while she regaled them with her life story, but he definitely thought there would be a tad bit more apprehension in her voice. She seemed proud of herself, and more matter-of-fact than a lot of omegas would be while talking about their alpha’s previous partners. Or...whatever you called prisoners whose only purpose was to help during ruts.

“And I bet he was,” she sighed, leaning her cheek on Bucky’s chest and looking up at him adoringly.

“Well, I don’t know about that…” Bucky said, an almost shy smile on his lips. And...was he actually blushing?

Steve was going to lose his mind.

“You said the other omegas couldn’t handle it? That’s why you were given the serum?” he prompted, trying to keep them on track before he drowned in the sticky sweetness of her happy pheromones.

“Right.” she turned her attention back to Steve and Bucky let out a quiet huff. “HYDRA didn’t really like to take care of us. And the soldier--I mean, Bucky--would wear them out. So...HYDRA would just kind of let them go. Or put them down, maybe. I never saw it.”

Bucky’s expression dropped. His blush was gone, and he almost looked like he was going to be sick as he listened to her talk.

“But it wasn’t his fault,” she said quickly, glancing between him and Steve. “I don’t think it was ever on purpose, you were just...demanding.”

He gave a groan, leaning his head back against the couch. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it, doll. I’d rather know what I did, at this point.”

She offered a small shrug. “I don’t really remember it being that bad, but I don’t think I ever met you before they gave me the serum.”

“That’s something, at least.” he mumbled, dragging a hand down his face.

“Why you?” Steve asked. “Did you have any prior military experience, any ties to something the others didn’t?”

“No.” she laughed. “I never even got in fights before HYDRA.”

“Then why’d they use such an important resource on you, specifically? Not trying to take a dig at you, it’s just...well, omegas don’t usually…”

“I know,” she said. “Omegas aren’t supposed to be tough, right? That’s why they only ever let alphas become super soldiers.”

“That’s not what I…” Steve trailed off and then sighed. “Sorry.”

“I told you, they gave me the serum so that I would be strong enough to hold my own. It also ensured I would always be around, no matter how many years passed.” Her fingers found Bucky’s free hand and she took it, absentmindedly playing with the smooth vibranium knuckles. “Having me as a constant meant they could stop spending so much time and effort on always having a new omega around for him. Plus…well, I wasn’t really there, but I heard something about it once…”

“What?” Bucky asked.

“They let you choose who was going to become your omega.” She said, looking up at him. “They gave you a bunch of scents, and you chose mine. I guess it was the only reason they didn’t, uh...humanely euthanize me.”

His eyes were wide. The thought of HYDRA killing his omega brought a low growl to his throat, his chest rumbling with the vibrations of it. “No.”

“Well, clearly they didn’t!” She said brightly. “My file said I was a kicker.”

“So they gave you, an already aggressive omega, the serum, but never gave you any trigger words or fished around in your brain?” Bruce shook his head. “Surprisingly sloppy, considering who they are.”

“It’s not like they ever sent me out into the world. I stayed in my cell all day, unless I was needed for a rut. Then I went and stayed in a different cell.” She sighed. “And if they ever needed to, they could just use the alpha to grab me.”

Bucky clearly didn’t like the thought of that. He made a frustrated sound, leaning his head back again. “Great.”

“It was never bad.” She let go of his hand, moving her fingers to cup his jaw. “You never hurt me. You wouldn’t. Sometimes, when I acted up, they would make you go retrieve me, because they knew you were the only one who could do it. If they didn’t send you, they would just knock me out.”

“So...that was it?” Steve asked. “Ruts, serum, cryo?”

“For thirty years!” She chirped. “The last time they froze me, they were freezing him, too. They always tried to keep us in cryo at the same time so that I could be thawed out and ready when he needed me. But...I guess they just...left me there?” She frowned.

“See, that’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.” Steve said. “I didn’t see any signs of a struggle at that base. I’d say they left in an orderly fashion, but the fact that they didn’t take you along makes me think they were in more of a hurry than they made it seem.”

“Natasha might have a better idea,” Bruce suggested. “We can talk to her, try to figure out—“

“FRIDAY, open the damn door or so help me God I will rewrite your entire personality.” A voice interrupted from the other side of the door.

“I’m sorry, Tony, but Captain Rogers asked me not to.” The AI said.

“Well, is it an emergency?” The man scoffed.

“No emergency measures have been executed. No security breaches have been identified.”

“Then I’m sorry, but Captain Rogers does not outrank me when it comes to my own robots. Open the door, beautiful.”

She seemed to sigh. “Very well, Mr. Stark.”

Ten perked up, leaning forward slightly. She was watching the door curiously, tilting her head a little when she heard it slide open. Bucky rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself quietly and pulling her up against his side as another alpha strode in.

“Really? Having a party without me?” the man asked, a smooth, casual air about him as he walked in and looked at everyone on the couches. When his eyes landed on the omega cuddled up next to Bucky, he stopped. “Ah, is this our new guest?”

“Go away, Stark.” Bucky growled. He didn’t like how long the other man’s gaze was lingering on his omega, not when there weren’t any scars on her neck to show who she belonged to.

“Always such a charmer, Barnes.” Tony said, flopping down next to Steve. “Lovely to see you, too. Care to introduce me to your friend? ….No, you’d rather just snarl and forget your words? I knew you were old, but I didn’t realize you were actually a caveman.”

“Tony,” Bruce groaned. “Don’t aggravate him. Please.”

“Why not?” Tony leaned back against the cushions, completely at ease and totally happy to be pressing every one of Bucky’s buttons.

“Are you Tony Stark?” Ten asked, wiggling out of Bucky’s grip to sit on the edge of their couch.

Bucky caught her around the waist before she could get very far, though, and dragged her onto his lap. He loomed over her, sneering dangerously at Tony as the other alpha flashed a smile.

“Bingo.” he said.

“I never thought I’d meet a Stark,” she admitted. “I always heard about Stark Industries, but I lived too far away from any big cities to ever get to see any of his exhibitions.”

“Ah. You’re from my father’s time. Of course.” Tony shot a pointed glare in Bucky’s direction. “Seems like Bruce left out a few teensy weensy important details on the phone today.”

“Well, it’s been, uh...an ongoing learning experience.” Bruce said sheepishly.

“Lots of developments, huh?” Tony raised an eyebrow.

“You could say that.” Steve said under his breath. “We came up here so Ten could be more comfortable while we talk.”

“Oh yeah? What’re we talkin’ about?” Tony asked.

“They were asking about my time with HYDRA,” she answered, cutting in before anyone else could. “And with...Bucky.”

Saying his name felt odd. Her tongue wasn’t used to it, and her mind wanted to call him alpha, or Winter Soldier. Bucky just seemed so…casual, such a strange thing to call a deadly super soldier. When she heard herself, though, she decided that she definitely didn’t hate it.

Bucky’s heart gave a little leap at the sound of his name falling from her lips. He wanted her to say it over and over again, in whispers and in screams, for nobody else’s ears but his.

“...Buck?” Steve asked, pulling him away from his thoughts. “You, uh, kinda zoned out there.”

It wasn’t until Bucky looked at Steve that he realized his eyes had been trained on the omega in his lap. “Yeah?”

“...Is this seriously how you’ve spent the past day and a half?” Tony asked. “Steve, I’m sorry, and I’m sure you’re just trying to be as helpful as you can be, like always, but I think you should let these two get a room.”

Steve looked at him incredulously. “Tony, really? I’m trying to get to the bottom of why exactly HYDRA would abandon the omega they pumped full of super soldier serum. They can get a room later—“

“Yeah, uh, wonder boy? I don’t think your pal is gonna last much longer before he tries to rip our heads off.” Tony nodded towards a very disgruntled Bucky. “You can resume your interrogation tomorrow, Cap.”

Steve looked to Bruce for help, but he only offered a small shrug and stood, heading towards the door. “He’s right, Steve. They deserve some alone time.”

“But—hey!” Steve protested as Bucky picked his omega up, striding past the two alphas sitting on the opposite couch.

“Thanks for everything, Steve.” Bucky said over his shoulder.

Ten squirmed, peeking around Bucky’s arm as she was carried away. “Bye, Mr. Stark!”

“Don’t look at him,” Bucky growled as they walked out the door.

“Did his father really make hoverboards? I heard once that Howard was promising hoverboards—“

“No.” He said flatly.

“...oh.” She huffed, slumping against him. “Where are we going?”

“My apartment.” Bucky stepped into the elevator, his grip still tight around her.

The omega perked up. “You have a whole apartment?”

He puffed his chest out a little. “Course I do. Gotta have a nice place for you, don’t I?”

“So I can stay?” Her eyes were bright and happy. “I can stay there, with you, all the time? Not just when you rut?”

He felt a sad little pang in his heart. When he spoke again, his voice was low and soft. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Then, his eyes widened as he realized what he was saying. “I mean, uh...i-if you want to, that is. I know it’s fast and all, and maybe...would you rather have your own room? Or I can stay on the couch—“

“Bucky,” she cut him off with a laugh, a soft hand cupping his jaw. “You’ve been my alpha for seventy years. I’d say we’re actually moving pretty slow.”

His expression relaxed again, lips stretching into a small smile. “Right. Yeah. You’re right.”

They spent the rest of the elevator ride in comfortable silence, Bucky rubbing his scent glands all over her hair. He wanted to make sure that the next time they encountered anyone else, she smelled exactly like him.

Like her alpha.

When the elevator came to a gentle stop at Bucky’s floor, the doors opened, and he stepped out in front of his apartment door. It opened for him, having already scanned his biometrics, revealing a small, but cozy, living room.

He set his omega down on her feet, watching anxiously as she stepped into his quarters. Did she like it? Fuck, was it too small? It was too small. She probably hated it. Fuck, fuck, fuck...he had to salvage this somehow.

“Well, uh…” shit, he sounded too nervous. He wanted her to think he was a strong, capable alpha.

He cleared his throat for another start. “Welcome home, Omega.”

Wait. That wasn’t right. Should he be calling her that? No, probably not, it sounded too possessive, too uncaring. He wished he just knew her fucking name, or something.

“I mean…Ten?”

Shit, he sounded so stupid. He wanted to impress her, not...do whatever this was.

She just laughed, though, turning and looking at him with those eyes that sparkled like starlight. “Amoretta. My name is Amoretta.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #abo #omegaverse #alpha bucky #alpha bucky barnes #it's been a long long time #avengers x reader #avengers x oc

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lexis3npaii · 3 years ago

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Books and Cherry Coke

hyunjinxfem!reader

1.2k words

NOT PROOFREAD (im lazy)

(just fluff)

omg this is my first post and ive never shared my writing like this before nor have i ever written fan fiction but i figured this would be a good way to practice my craft. if chloe zhao can do it! so can i! feedback is always appreciated!

Every day during lunch, she sits by the fountain and reads a book. She’s a fast reader because every 2 weeks or so, the book is different. Every day she’s all alone, sipping on her cherry Coke. Metal straw in the can to mess up her lip gloss. He almost doesn’t want to disturb her. She always looks so peaceful. So enthralled in the book she’s reading.

But he can’t put it off for any longer. He can’t keep looking in the other direction when they lock eyes. Or turning down a different hallway when he sees her at her locker. He has to get over his fear of rejection and just “Shoot his shot” as his friend Jisung would say. And now is his chance.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Hyunjin begins to walk to where she’s seated. When he finally reaches her, he clears his throat in an attempt to capture her attention. Slightly startled, Y/N’s lifts her head and lowers her drink and book. A small smile captures her face when she notices who it is.

“Oh hi Hyunjin. I didn’t see you there.” Y/N cheerily greets the boy, making his ears slightly turn red.

“H-Hey Y/N!” he responds a little too loud, this time the blush rushing to his cheeks. But this makes Y/N giggle and it eases Hyunjin’s nerve just a little. “New book huh? ‘Big Little Lies’?”

Y/N glances down at the book in her hands and chuckles to herself. “Oh yeah. My mom was really into the tv show, so I figured I’d read the book first before I check it out. Moms and murder. It’s actually pretty good.” She finishes and looks back up at Hyunjin who has been looking at her the whole time. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t even care.” Y/N says while placing her palm on her forehead.

What she doesn’t know is that Hyunjin could listen to her talk about that book day, even if he had no idea what it was, him not being that interested in books or tv shows. What she didn’t know was that he secretly didn’t want her to stop talking, the nerves from before slowly finding their way back to him. He was scared again. And he was doubting himself again.

“Hyunjin?” He comes back to reality when he hears her call his name. Hyunjin meets her eyes again. “Did you need something?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I mean yes.”

“Yes?” she says with a smirk.

“I meant no I don’t need anything but I do have something” gulp. “To tell you…”

This time Y/N places her bookmark, which is just an old receipt, in between the pages and closes the book, setting it down next to her drink. She pats the space next to her, signalling Hyunjin to sit next to her.

“What’s up?”

Hyunjin fidgets next to her, trying to find the right words to say. He opens his mouth to speak but Y/N cuts him off.

“Oh! I meant to tell you how good you were in that showcase on Saturday.” Y/N says.

Hyunjin gives her a perplexed look. “You were there?” He asks.

“Yea. I promised Lix we’d get ice cream after and Min would’ve killed me if I missed another one. I had to request the day off at work.”

“Yea Minho can get pretty scary. One time he stuffed toilet tissue in my mouth cause I kept getting the timing wrong during a routine.” Hyunjin recalls earning a chuckle from Y/N, which makes him smile. He has to do it today. He wants to hear that laugh every day and be the reason for it. He wants you to call him ‘Hyun’ or ‘Jin’ like you call Minho ‘Min’ and Felix ‘Lix’. He wants you to come to his showcases for him. And after the show, you run into his arms and he spins you around refusing to let you down because having you in his arms just feels so right.

“Yup that sounds like Min.” she says pulling him out of his thoughts, still giggling about what

Hyunjin said. “But I’m sorry. I interrupted you.”

“No, no! I like hearing your laugh. It’s beautiful.”

This time it’s Y/N’s turn to feel heat rush to her face. What Hyunjin doesn’t know is that the reason she’s rambling is because she’s also nervous. And everyday she secretly wishes Hyunjin would come to the fountain and talk to her. What he doesn’t know is that she's been asking Minho and Felix about him. More so annoying, as Minho would say. What he doesn’t know is that Felix has invited her to sit in on the team's rehearsals so many times, but each time she declines, nervous about seeing Hyunjin.

“Oh um thank you…” Y/N says with a small smile on her face, avoiding eye contact with the boy in front of her.

There’s a silence between the pair. Hyunjin clears his throat to break it. “So I um I was out with Jeongin the other day and um we saw this book cafe and um I was wondering if maybe you’d want to go?” At this Y/N looks up, wide eyed.

“Would Jeongin… be there… too…?” She questions shyly.

“No! Just you and me. Y/N. I really like you and-” His sentence is cut off when Y/N places a chaste kiss to his lips. Hyunjin is stunned, at a total loss for words. He opens and closes his mouth a few times.

“I really like you too, Hyunjin.”

Shaking himself back to life, Hyunjin reaches into his bag. “Um I actually already went in and I um I got you this.” He pulls a fancy royal blue bookmark out of his bag, complete with a long tassel and her name down the center. “It was pretty and had your name on it. It’d be a crime if I didn’t buy it.”

Y/N carefully grabs the item at a loss for words herself. “Hyunjin, it’s beautiful. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll go out with me on Saturday.”

Y/N sets her eyes onto the blonde boy next to her who is already gazing at her like she’s the only person in the world.

“Yes. Of course I will.”

“Oi! Y/N!” The pair turn their attention to Minho who sarcastically points at his watch, his way of telling Y/N to hurry up.

“Alright Min! I’m coming!” Y/N turns back to Hyunjin and begins packing her stuff away. “Sorry Hyunjin, I gotta go but I’ll see you on Saturday.” She rushes towards where Minho is standing.

“Can’t wait!” He calls after her, standing up quickly.

Y/N finally makes it to her friend, doing nothing to conceal the smile on her face. Minho side eyes her, nudging the girl with his elbow. “I guess lover boy finally made his move? Bout time. I was sick of you two asking me about each other. I thought you guys would never-” He’s cut off when Y/N pushes the boy right back but with her whole arm, given their size difference.

“Shut it.”

#hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids x reader #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x y/n

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heauxplesslydevoted · 3 years ago

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Then & Now (Ethan x MC)

Summary: A particularly difficult case forces Ethan to confront a blast from his past

A/N: This popped into my head and I had too much fun writing it. I will loosely incorporate some of the themes from book 3 and make them better, but this is mostly an AU.

A/N 2: Yes I’m writing another multipart fic while actively ignoring my others. The muses spoke and I had no choice in the matter. Enjoy!

~v~

“Would you like some more coffee, Dr. Ramsey?”

Whatever line he was reading in his textbook blurs as does his vision. Ethan looks up at the face of the newest member of the team, a young resident, Isabelle. He takes the cup, not missing the way her eyes light up as he does so. What is it with residents and their incessant need to kiss-ass and be people pleasers?

“Thank you, Dr. Proctor.”

“Of course! I figured we’d need all the caffeine we could get our hands on with this case.”

Ethan doesn’t respond with words, only offering the young woman a hum in acknowledgement. Instead his eyes land on his coworker, Harper Emery. “Harper, has your team been able to come up with anything new?”

“Nothing,” Harper replies with a resigned sigh.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I’ve run as many tests, MRIs and CT scans as I could, and none of them came back with anything conclusive. We’re officially back to square one.”

Ethan hasn’t been this stumped in years. A week ago, a patient came to Edenbrook after waking up without being able to feel anything from the waist down. A young, relatively healthy 25 year old with no extraordinary medical history, no recent reports of any TBI, nothing. He assumed with Harper–one of the nation’s greatest neurosurgeons–on the case, that this would be a simple fix.

As painful as it is to admit, he’s wrong.

They’ve gotten nowhere with the case, they’ve made no progress, and to make matters worse, he has Leland Bloom and the board breathing down his neck because it’s been years since the team has spent more than a week on a case, so a week with no news reflects poorly on them—on him, as the team’s leader specifically.

The last member of the team, Tobias, clears his throat. “Did he ever mention getting into a fight? Maybe he took a hit to the head, and just doesn’t want to admit it?”

“Maybe, but like I said, none of the CT scans or MRIs showed me anything out of the norm,” Harper says. “I can always ask him again.”

“That’d be ideal–”

Ethan’s sentence is cut off as the door to their office is thrown open, and in walks Leland. “Hello, team!”

The most senior members of the team stay silent, but Isabelle gives a slight wave. “Hello, Mr. Bloom.”

“Dr. Proctor,” Leland greets in turn. “Nice to know at least one of you has manners.”

Ethan checks the time on his watch. “What are you doing here, Bloom?”

“Last time I checked, I owned this entire building and I didn’t need to ask your permission to be here.”

“We’re nearing midnight,” Ethan adds. “What are you still doing here, and not at home? I’m sure Mrs. Bloom would enjoy seeing you.”

Leland ignores the mention of his wife Caroline, pretending like she wasn’t mentioned at all. “I just stopped by your patient’s room to see how he was doing. And then I decided to drop by to check in with you guys. Are there any updates on the Miller case?”

“I’m not discussing patient information with you,” Ethan says.

“Well, I am your boss.”

“And until you go to medical school, graduate, become a doctor at this hospital, and join in on this case, I don’t have to tell you anything. You may own this hospital, but I do not have to discuss my patients with you.”

“Okay, so you guys have no new information,” Leland concludes.

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, this conversation giving him a headache even though it just started. “We were actually in the middle of a brainstorming session before we were interrupted, so if we could have some privacy again, that would be much appreciated.”

Ethan’s tone causes Leland to drop the veneer of kindness, the smile dropping from his face only for a second before he catches it. He looks away and sniffs haughtily. “Fine. I’ll check in with the patient tomorrow for a status update, since it’s clear I won’t be getting it from my employees. Thankfully, his father and I go way back.”

“I can’t stop the patient from divulging his own information.”

Leland glances around the room one more time, his gaze lingering on Ethan a bit longer than it does on the other occupants. “Goodnight, doctors.”

Once Leland leaves, Harper turns towards Ethan. “You act like it would literally kill you to be nice to him.”

“Be nice for what? Bloom thinks we owe him undying loyalty and infinite ass kissing because he bought the hospital. He’s pulled a lot of nonsense since moving into this position, but he’s not worth breaking any laws over. My patients deserve their privacy.”

“And I agree, but the extra hostility isn’t needed. The last thing we need is World War 3 with you and Bloom tearing down the hospital. Just be nice.”

“Okay, are we getting back to work or calling it a night?”

The rest of the team glances around each other. Pulling an all-nighter with Ethan while he’s in a foul mood sounds like a nightmare.

“We’re calling it a night.”

~v~

Ethan ends up falling asleep in the office, finally dozing off around 5 o'clock in the morning, surrounded by a mountain of books and the harsh light of his computer screen. The sleep is short lived though as the sound of his pager wakes him up.

He jumps up with a start, and checks the time on his watch before checking his pager. He only managed to get two hours of sleep, but he can’t dwell on that. The page is a 911 alert to his patient’s room.

“Shit!”

He takes off to the 4th floor where his patient is housed, thankful that the early morning hour means the hospital is not yet flooded with people.

Isabelle, Harper, and a nurse are already in the room when Ethan finally makes it. “What’s going on?”

“He had a seizure,” Harper explains.

“How long did it last?”

“Around 50 seconds. We administered lorazepam into his IV.”

“Could this be a new symptom?” Valencia asks. “Or something else entirely?”

Harper shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m going to take him down to radiology for another CT scan. Hopefully this next one can actually yield some results.”

Ethan nods. “That sounds like a plan. In the meantime, Dr. Proctor, add seizures onto the list of symptoms to broaden our search criteria. Maybe that’ll help.”

“Gotcha.”

“We’ll reconvene when Tobias comes in and once we get the new CT scans back.”

There’s a knock at the door and Ethan bristles when Leland’s loud voice calls out to him. “Dr. Ramsey, can I speak to you out in the hallway?”

“With all due respect, I’d rather not.”

“It wasn’t a request, doctor. Hallway, now.”

Ethan shoots Harper a look, and she gives him a quick sympathy smile before he and Leland step out into the hallway.

They move a few feet away from the patient’s door, out of earshot before Leland lays into Ethan. “How in the hell is the patient actually managing to get worse under your care?”

The question actually takes Ethan aback. “You can’t possibly be saying his condition is my fault?”

“I’m saying he’s been here for a week now, and he’s no better off than where he was. You don’t have any information to give him or his family. Do you know how many phone calls my assistant has had to field because they want to get him transferred to a different facility?”

“We are giving him the best care possible, Leland. Just because you and his father belong to the same country club or whatever, does not mean there’ll be some instant diagnosis or treatment that he can buy...or steal. We need to do our due diligence.”

Leland is smart enough to know when a dig is being lobbed in his direction. His eyes narrow. “What are you trying to say, Ethan?”

“Exactly what I just did. Besides, why do you have such a vested interest in my team and what we do? I’m sure you have other businesses and people to micromanage these days.”

“You guys don’t make me any money yet remain my biggest cost. The least you can do is be efficient and answer my questions when I ask.”

“And like I told you last night, I know you own this place. You never let me forget it. But you buying this hospital does not mean I am here at your beck and call, now does it mean I have to be governed under anything that isn’t set forth by the American Medical Association. Now, me team is the best this hospital and this city have to offer, so back up and let us do our jobs.”

“You guys are the best?” Leland chuckles humorlessly. “Act like it. Or I’ll find someone else who can.”

The threat causes Ethan to pause. “What does that mean?”

“You heard me loud and clear, Dr. Ramsey. Loud and clear.”

~v~

“You idiot! Why on earth would you get into a fight with Bloom in the middle of a hallway?”

Ethan doesn’t try to school his bored expression as Tobias paces the entire length of the office, huffing and puffing as he does so.

“I didn’t get into a fight with him,” Ethan amends. “It was an exchange of words.”

“A loud exchange of words,” Harper adds. “In front of our patient’s room, might I add.”

“I had plans for this day to be productive, but the minute that man opens his mouth, I just–”

“We get it, you don’t like him,” Tobias interjects.

“Disliking Leland is an understatement.”

Isabelle stays silent, unable to find a good place to cut in, despite having questions. Ethan’s dislike of Leland Bloom is the hospital’s worst kept secret, but the contention has always been passive aggressive at best. And as a second year resident, she doesn’t have any background knowledge on why the relationship is the way that it is.

“I don’t like him either, but you don’t see me needling him in front of the nurse’s station!”

“Sure Leland is...obnoxious at times, but I don’t understand any of it,” Isabelle says, finally speaking up. Ethan looks at her as if he’s just now remembering that she’s been in the room the entire time. “What happened that caused this much animosity?”

Leland’s kidney disease wasn’t a major secret. Most medical personnel that worked at Edenbrook and the larger Boston area remember the huge media blitz, and all of the pomp and circumstance surrounding his hospitalization early last year. And the official story is Leland got a kidney from a family member who wished to keep their identity a secret from the public, and everyone ate it up.

Only a handful of people know the truth. That a few well placed phone calls and dollars exchanged got Leland to the top of the donor list within a day, stealing a second chance from the true person at the top of the list: a 14 year old girl.

“So long as there is breath in my body, Leland Bloom and his ilk will never get an ounce of respect from me, and I’ll just leave it at that,” Ethan says cooly. “And that’s all you need to know, Dr. Proctor.”

“Okay.”

“I’m just saying man, Bloom is petty,” Tobias adds. “Men like him, who think the rest of us should bow at their feet, don’t take kindly to getting told off, especially in public. Underneath the billions is a tiny ass, fragile ego. Can you just keep a low profile and be quiet for the next day or two, so Bloom doesn’t dismantle this team?”

“I’ll be as cordial as Bloom is,” is what Ethan settles upon. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

The only thing that can rival Ethan’s intelligence is his stubbornness. Tobias knows it’s the best he’s going to get out of Ethan, so he relents. “Okay.”

“Good. Now can we get back to work and stop talking about Bloom?”

His team nods and Ethan sighs in relief.. They still have a chance to turn things around and actually have a good day.

They fall into a productive routine, tossing around different theories, sharing research and narrowing down ideas. Too bad that only lasts for about half an hour before there’s a knock at the office door. A few seconds later, Naveen pokes his head in.

Ethan smiles because part of him was expecting Leland to show up again. “Naveen, this is a nice surprise! Don’t tell me you’re ready to get back in the saddle.”

Naveen laughs good-naturedly at his mentee. “Not quite.”

“Well what brings you down here?”

“I wanted to talk to you for a second, Ethan,” Naveen says.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. It’s not about me, it’s work related. Team related news, that I wanted to tell you personally,” Naveen explains, fully entering the office. “Is there any way I could steal you for a few minutes?”

“If it involves the team, I think we can have the conversation here. Is this about my...spirited discussion with Leland?”

“No, it’s about the case you’re working on.”

“Now I know we don’t usually work on cases for this long, and we’re working on it.”

“I know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Leland has some concerns about how long it’s taking you guys to treat this patient, and he told me that he wants to outsource some extra help to speed things along.”

“No thank you.”

“He’s already made phone calls. I’m just here to give you a heads up about who he picked.”

“A heads up?” Ethan scoffs and rolls his eyes. Who on earth could Leland think of reaching out to that Ethan would need a warning about? “Who is he asking for? Mendoza from MK? Catherine Morgan from Stanford? The Boogeyman?”

“I don’t think I’ve reached Boogeyman levels of infamy. Well, at least not yet.”

The voice makes the hair on the back of Ethan’s neck stand up. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in close to three years, one that he thought he’d never hear again.

His eyes snap up, locking with the large brown ones staring back at him, and all of the breath leaves his lungs at once. The last time he looked into these eyes, they weren’t full of humor like they are now, but pure fire. His chest constricts, inhaling suddenly the most difficult task in the world.

The entire room goes silent, everyone watching as Ethan and the woman stay locked in their staring contest. Isabelle’s eyes dart back and forth, hoping someone can clue her into what’s going on, but Naveen, Harper and Tobias offer zero assistance.

Isabelle takes the quiet time to appraise the stranger. She’s petite, almost a foot shorter than Ethan even with her sky high Jimmy Choos on. The second thing that catches her attention is the mess of dark curly hair spilling over her shoulders, and the amused smirk on her face, like a cat that got the canary.

The woman breaks eye contact with Ethan to look past his shoulder. “Harper, Tobias, hello. Long time no see.”

When he regains the ability to speak, Ethan grits out, “Naomi, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I got an interesting call from Leland Bloom this morning, saying that the diagnostics team was in dire need of some assistance on a particularly difficult case. Within the hour, his private helicopter was picking me up.”

Ethan takes a sterling’s breath and silently counts to 3 before talking again. “I’m not working with you.”

“You don’t have a choice. Not unless you quit.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Naomi rolls her eyes. “Drama was never a good look on you, darling, I was always better suited for it.” She turns her attention to the young resident gawking at her, turning on her megawatt smile. “You’re new. I don’t know you.”

“Um, n-no you don't. I’m Dr. Isabelle Proctor.”

“Isabelle,” Naomi repeats slowly, letting it roll off of her tongue. “What a pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Dr. Naomi Ramsey.”

The last name catches her attention. Her eyes flicker over to Ethan’s face, catching the way his jaw ticks as female Dr. Ramsey talks.

“I can see the wheels turning in your head as I talk, so I’ll clear things up for you right quick,” Naomi continues. “No, the last name thing isn’t a coincidence. I’m Ethan’s ex-wife." She sticks out a hand for Isabelle to shake. "Nice to meet you.”

~v~

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

Text

VALERIE - Part IV. (Harry Styles)

hello loves!! thank you so much for the feedbacks on the previous part, i love to see your thoughts at reactions so please keep them coming for the upcoming parts as well! i was informed that the posts weren’t showing up under the hashtags bc i had an extrernal link to the spotify playlist, so that won’t be available in the next parts, but you’ll always be able to find it in the masterpost if you’d like to give it a listen! those were the songs i listened to while writing the story! now, i dont want to keep you up any longer, here is part 4, one of my personal favs, and im excitedly waiting for your feedbacks on the post! have a wonderful reading!

word count: 4.5k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

Valerie is curiously watching her dad work on the portable bed they’ve brought over for the night, her little hands clutching onto Rosa’s shirt as she is telling you all about the list she has made for you. It’s not a long one, but you try to focus on every word she says, making sure you won’t mess anything up.

“I put an X behind the important ones,” she explains pointing at the paper and you nod, eyes roaming down on the few X’s on the list. “The other ones are just suggestions, things I thought you should know.

“Got it,” you nod again, biting into your bottom lip. Bath time, feeding, sleep time, everything is covered in the list and you’re happy she even mentioned the smallest details. Some things might be natural for her as she’s been doing it for months, but it’s your first time completely alone with a baby. You surely don’t want to mess this up, especially because you want her to trust you and let you look after Valerie more often. They deserve a break now and then.

Steven finishes the bed and backs out a few stuffed animals along with two blankets into it, making it look cozy and familiar for Val.

“But most importantly,” Rosa starts and you look her in the eyes. “Call us anytime if you need help or want us to take her home, and I mean it.”

“Not gonna happen,” you shake your head, earning a sigh from your sister.

“Y/N, I’m serious. We are thankful for the help, but it’s not your duty, alright? Just call us anytime, really.”

Nodding your head you flash a smile at her, knowing well nothing on Earth is gonna make you call them tonight. Okay, maybe there are some cases when you would call, but those are quite unlikely to happen.

She hands Valerie over who curiously eyes you before grabbing a handful of your shirt and making herself busy with the fabric.

“It’s gonna be fine. Have a great night, you deserve it,” you smile at them. Steven straightens up and curls an arm around Rosa’s waist as they watch Val in awe, clearly a little worried they are gonna spend an entire night without her, but you can tell they also can’t wait for some alone time.

“Alright, we should get going,” Rosa sighs and stepping closer she kisses Valerie’s head and then your cheek as well. “Have fun with your aunty! We’ll be back for you in the morning, Sweetie.”

She runs her hand over her little head and Valerie smiles at her happily, completely oblivious to what’s really happening. The joys of being just a baby!

Steven says goodbye to her as well and you all head to the door.

“So, we’ll be here around eight, she is usually up by six. Do you want us to pick her up sooner?” Rosa asks standing at the front door.

“Sooner? I was about to tell you to sleep a little longer, you don’t have to come so early.”

“But we don’t want to take away your whole day, you need to rest too,” Steven explains, worry all over his face.

“Stop worrying about me, I’ll be fine. Just enjoy your night off! Come on, I’m throwing you guys out, time for the sleepover to start,” you tell them, shushing them out the door.

It takes some time to finally get them to leave, but they eventually do. Then it’s just the two of you, alone for the first time.

“Ready for your first sleepover, Val?” you ask her, standing in the hallway of your apartment. She just stares back at you, saliva drooling from her mouth but even that looks cute on her. “Alright, let’s do this.”

You braced yourself for the worst. Thought about all the possibilities how the evening would go, but you hoped they wouldn't become reality. Unfortunately, baby Valerie had different plans for the two of you.

The first hour goes by fine. You feed her, have a little play time, reading her favorite book to her, but slowly, you notice her losing interest in anything and everything. Soon enough, you see her face distort into a grimace and a few moments later she starts crying and it’s straight downhill from there.

Nothing can get her to stop. No food, no toy, absolutely nothing. You clown around, trying everything that pops into your mind that would calm her down, but it doesn’t seem like she is about to stop anytime soon.

You start to panic. Rosa told you how fussy she is because of her teeth coming, but you didn’t think it would be this bad. When she’s been crying for an entire hour straight, for a split second, you think about calling Rosa.

“No, not gonna do that,” you say, while Val is still screaming in your arms. “Valerie, what do you want? Tell me and I’ll give it to you, I promise! Just please stop crying!” you whine desperately, but, no surprise, no answer comes from the screaming babe in your arms, just more tears, puffy eyes and red cheeks from all the crying she’s been doing.

Trying to rock her into calmness you are moving around in the apartment when you hear your phone ringing. You instantly think it’s gonna be Rosa, wanting to check in on you, but how are you gonna answer the call when Valeries is screaming from the top of her lungs? She’ll come to pick her up straight away, no doubt about that.

Rushing into the kitchen you are relieved to see that it’s just Harry calling you.

“It’s not the best of times, Styles,” you sigh as you answer the call and put him on the speaker, leaving the phone on the countertop, so you have both your hands free for Valerie.

“Hey, I was just-- what the fuck is happening?” he asks hearing the deadly cries of Val through the line. “Is that Valerie?”

“It is! I’m looking after her so Rosa and Steven can celebrate their anniversary, but she just wouldn’t stop crying! I don’t know what to do!”

You’re absolutely desperate. It’s so bad you can feel your throat closing up, nearing the edge of your patience, tears threatening to roll down your cheeks, but you tell yourself only one of you can cry at a time and Val has taken that spot quite some time ago, not even giving you a moment to let loose.

“Text me your address, I’m leaving now,” he orders and you snap your head towards the phone.

“What? No, Harry--”

“Just text me the damn address, Y/N!” he barks and the line cuts off right away.

Your desperation pairs with shock now, not knowing what to think about this short, but quite eventful conversation you just had with him. It takes you a few moments to collect your thoughts, but you end up sending him your address.

Nothing changes in the twenty minutes while you are waiting to hear anything from Harry following your text to him. Valerie keeps crying with three seconds of pauses when she takes a few deep breaths only to start screaming once again. Aside from the headache she is causing you, it’s becoming pretty impressive how long she’s been doing it. You probably would have fainted by now, but it seems like Valerie is running on an endless battery.

“You are really making it hard for me to be a cool aunt, Val,” you mumble, the baby still in your arms as the tears keep rolling down her face. Your light grey shirt is now soaking wet, both from her tears and your sweat from the anxiety she is giving you, mixed with some other things you choose to ignore where they came from.

The doorbell makes you jump, but Valerie doesn’t even bat an eye at the sound, she just keeps going.

“You need to teach me how to have this much energy,” you mumble under your breath as you walk over to the door.

Opening it you find yourself staring up at Harry who is wearing a brown coat, dark jeans and a black hoodie. If you had to guess what he was doing on this weekend evening you would have said he was out with friends somewhere, picking up girls, but he surely doesn’t look like he was anywhere else than his home, the clothes are hanging messily on his frame, like he just threw them on in a rush.

His green eyes look straight at you at first before moving over to the crying child in your arms. You fully expect him to say something along the lines of “this is the kind of effect you have on others” comment, but it seems like he notices the fear and despair in your eyes and he keeps his mouth shut.

“I honestly have no idea what to do,” you choke out and the tears start flowing from your eyes as well, making Harry have to deal with now two crying human beings.

“Oh my, please don’t cry, I can’t take two crying women at once,” Harry begs as he steps inside and shuts the door behind him. Turning to face you he reaches for Valerie, you hand her over to him, hoping she would magically stop the crying, but she clearly couldn’t care less.

“Why, can you take one?” you ask with a bitter chuckle as you wipe your cheeks.

“Not really,” he admits, making you smile. “So what have you tried?” he asks as he starts swaying and rocking Valerie in hopes of getting her to stop, but not even Harry’s charm stands a chance with her right now. Deep down you’re happy you weren’t the reason she got so fussy and upset, would have been pretty awkward if she stopped the moment Harry took her into his arms.

“Literally everything,” you huff, shoulders falling forward. “I went over the list Rosa gave me, tried everything, but she wouldn’t stop. She’s teething, but this is… It seems like there might be something else maybe?” you tell him worried that something serious might be behind her behavior. You really don’t want to call and bother Rosa, but you are nearing the point where you’ll give up and ask for help.

“Maybe she needs to be changed?” Harry suggests holding her up, giving her butt a sniff, but you roll your eyes at him.

“You don’t think that was one of the first things I did? She is as clean as she could be. Maybe I should just call Rosa,” you sigh in defeat reaching for your phone but Harry snaps at you.

“No! Don’t, we can figure this out. Steven has been so excited to have a night off, we can’t ruin this for them. Come on, we have to have the slightest parenting skills and solve this without them.”

Nodding you agree with him, but you’ve completely run out of ideas.

“So what do you suggest?”

You can see the gears turning in Harry’s head as he is trying to come up with a plan, but it’s not like either of you have any experience with babies. The idea of calling Rosa is starting to burn in the back of your head, fear of failing this challenge taking over your thoughts.

Then Harry looks at you with a look that screams that he has an idea. You’re just about to ask what came into his mind when all of a sudden he starts to sing.

“Well, sometimes I go out by myself and I look across the water, and I think of all the things what you’re doing and in my head I paint a picture…”

You instantly recognize Amy Whinehouse’s iconic song, the one that’s also behind Valerie’s name, you know that for sure. Rosa was obsessed with the song growing up, she would sing it on the way to school, in the shower or while making dinner. You weren’t surprised she chose this name for her first daughter.

What surprises you that Harry sings like a literal angel. He hits the notes perfectly, nailing the lines like not many can and you listen to him with parted lips, eyebrows raised. This was the last thing you expected from him, but then again, it’s not the first time Harry has surprised you through the years of knowing him.

Valerie stops for a moment, her hiccups shaking through her body as her tear-filled eyes look up to Harry, and you both think this is gonna be the moment when she finally calms down, but he doesn’t even reach the chorus before she starts crying again, a defeated sigh erupting from him.

“Maybe she wants it instrumental,” you suggest and Harry gives you one of those ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ looks as you leave to run down the hallway, right into your bedroom.

“How am I supposed to make it instru-- what the hell, Y/N?!” He gives you a weirded out look when you return with a guitar in your hands. “Since when do you play the guitar?”

“Since like… eighth grade,” you tell him as you sit on the couch and holding the guitar on your lap you try to find the right accords. “I told you, you know nothing about me.”

Harry nods with a surprised but amazed look on his face as your fingers strum against the chords. It takes a few minutes but you figure it out and glancing up you give a questioning look to Harry.

“From the start?” you ask and he nods his head, continuously bouncing up and down to try to calm Val down.

You start playing the song and soon enough Harry joins you with the singing, the two of you perfectly nailing it even without any practice.

“Stop makin’ a fool out of me, why don’t you come on over, Valerie?”

Maybe it’s the guitar, maybe it’s the singing or maybe the fact that the song has her name in it, but by the time you reach the halfway point in the song Valerie’s crying slowly starts to fade. You instantly share a look with Harry, but don’t stop, fearing that she might start again if the music stops.

Her tear soaked cheeks smooth out as she is not screaming anymore and you can actually see her irises finally, her long lashes are sticking together from the salty tears and you know it’s gonna take some time for her to regain her normal state, but at least the crying has stopped.

“‘Cause since I’ve come on home, well, my body’s been a mess. And I’ve missed your ginger hair and the way you like to dress…”

You tear your eyes off Valerie for a second, letting yourself wander over Harry’s features as he sings. He slightly furrows his eyebrows focusing on the lines, so his forehead has a few creases on it. His lips form the words so clearly and elegantly, you wonder how often he sings. Is it something he only does when he is on his own or he likes to perform as well?

The only time when you heard him sing was at the bar when the two of you slayed the karaoke machine with that Avril Lavigne song. You were smashed by then, you remember that he had a nice voice but it was the last thing you paid attention to. Besides, he was kind of equally drunk as you, it was all for just fun, but now is a completely different situation.

It’s no surprise Valerie finds his voice soothing, you’d probably stop whatever you were doing if you heard him sing. There are people with a good voice and then there are the ones that not just have a good voice but also that small something, that extra magic in them that makes you melt as their voice caress your ears. Harry is definitely the second case, for a moment you forget where you are or why he is there singing. It’s just his voice and the gentle strumming of your fingers on the chords.

At the end of the song he starts repeating Valerie as the song slowly fades into nothing and you both stare at the little girl in his arms, clearly afraid she might start crying again. Unfortunately, your reservations become valid when you see the corners of her mouth curls down and you and Harry share a shocked look immediately.

“What else can you play?” he urges as Val whimpers in his arms, letting you know she does not appreciate that the singing has stopped.

“Shit, shit! Um, something from ABBA?” you propose and Harry nods quickly, not even asking which song you know, so you take it as a sign that he probably knows all of them.

The first song that comes to your mind is Andante, Andante and you don’t hesitate to start playing again, just in time. Valerie was just about to start crying again, but as soon as the melody hit her little ears she calmed down and listened to it with tired looking eyes.

“Take it easy with me, please. Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze…” Harry sings the words and you can’t hold a smile back as he, once again, hits the notes just perfectly without missing a beat.

You’re convinced there’s not one person on Earth who has never heard a single Abba song, most of the population knows them by heart, but somehow you couldn’t really imagine Harry to be a person who knows the lyrics to the songs as well. But he does and sings it without messing it up even just once. It’s hard to imagine a younger version of Harry singing ABBA songs when they come on the radio, but the more you think about it the more the picture paints itself in your mind.

Valerie lays her head to Harry’s chest, stuffing her thumb into her mouth as she listens to the performance. She is probably enjoying the vibrance of his voice shaking through his chest and maybe this is what brings her the peace she’s been looking for all this time. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of them.

Harry glances at you, eyes so soft you melt under his gaze. However nerve wrecking it was to have Valerie scream for hours, she is still the cutest little thing ever as she rests her head on his chest, her long blinks giving it away she has definitely lost most of her energy.

You don’t dare to stop the singing and playing. When you near the end of a song you quickly think of something else and whisper it over to Harry, who then gives his feedback on it with either a nod or a shake of his head. Most of the time he knows the songs you suggest so the show continues without a stop.

Half an hour passes by when you see her eyes slowly closing. You still don’t stop though, only when Harry tries to listen to her breathing and he realizes that it was completely slowed down. She is out.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out quietly, your fingers feeling numb from the playing. You haven’t had a guitar in your hands for this long in a while, probably for years. Harry shares your relief, his throat has completely dried out and he is happy to finally breathe evenly, not just sneak a few breaths in between lines.

“And now what?” he mouths as he is still gently swaying around with the sleeping Valerie in his arms. You put the guitar aside and check if she is for real asleep. Her long lashes are spread out on her puffy cheeks, gently snoozing into Harry’s chest as if she weren’t screaming for dear life just an hour ago.

“Let’s put her down,” you whisper and nod at him to follow you.

Reaching your bedroom you only switch your bedside lamp on so the light doesn’t wake her up. Pushing the stuffed animals to the side you grab the blankets and let Harry do the critical job. Leaning down he oh so slowly starts to pull her away from his chest, careful not to move too suddenly, it all feels like in those action movies when they are trying to get through the lasers without triggering the alarm. One bad move and the screaming threatens to start again and that’s the last thing you want, after all you’ve done to calm her down.

You don’t even realize it but as you watch her little head reach the mattress you hold your breath, almost wincing upon seeing Harry’s hands slide out from under her sleeping frame. As if you wait for something to go wrong, both of you freeze for a moment, expecting her to start moving around and wake up, but she stays still.

Eyes snapping up to Harry, you exchange a look and then you both head to the door, careful not to make any noise that can possibly shake Valerie up from her dreams.

“This was more tiring than running a marathon,” he huffs, throwing himself to the couch and you do the same next to him.

“Have you ever run a marathon?”

“No,” he confidently answers and you look over at him with a puzzled look. “But I can imagine how tiring it is.”

You let out a chuckle, letting your eyes close for just a little bit. You haven’t even had the chance to realize how much this whole struggle with Val sucked the energy out of you, but now that you’re half lying on the couch it hits you all at once.

“I should get going,” you hear Harry mumble, clearly just as tired as you are, but he doesn’t move.

“Mhm,” you hum, feeling yourself drift to sleep.

Neither of you moves and it doesn’t take a whole five minutes for the both of you to completely doze off.

The next time you wake up you feel an arm curled around your waist and someone is definitely pressed up against you while your back is against the back of the couch. It takes you a couple of moments and some blinking to realize it’s Harry you are all snuggled up to and the reason why you woke up is because Valerie is crying again.

“Shit,” you mumble to yourself, mind still groggy from the sleep as you push yourself up on the couch. Just moments later Harry’s eyes flush open and you’re not sure it’s because of the crying or because you moved next to him. His arm slides off you as he looks around a little confused about his surroundings.

You don’t have the chance to think about how the two of you ended up cuddling on the couch, though it lingers in the back of your mind. Basically crawling over Harry you rush into your bedroom where Valerie is lying in her bed crying. It’s a different kind of cry, not like the one you were stuck with for hours before and you know she must be hungry.

“Ah, come on, little girl. It’s alright,” you coo at her scooping her into your arms. She immediately cuddles to your chest hiccupping against it, her little hands fisting your shirt. You leave to go to the kitchen and feed her, but just as you’re about to step out of the room you bump into Harry.

You bounce back from his chest, but his hand immediately reaches for you and grabs your arm, holding you in case you might fall back.

“Sorry,” you breathe out, thoughts still foggy a little. “She’s… hungry,” you explain, but he is standing so close to you, you can feel his body’s warmth and it instantly ignites the memory of being pressed against his side on the couch just moments ago and you can’t stop yourself from inhaling a shaky breath.

“Let me help,” he croaks out and the two of you walk into the kitchen. Putting on her bib you hand her over to Harry who sits with her on his lap on a stoop as you get the baby food, warm it a little before joining the two of them and you slowly start feeding her.

“What time is it?” you ask realizing you have no idea how long you two have been asleep on the couch.

“It’s three am,” Harry answers before smiling down at Val. “Good job, Val!” he hums watching her take the spoon into her mouth.

You finish up feeding her, then give a try at burping her even though Rosa said it’s not necessary anymore. She just hums to herself so you head back to the bedroom, her eyes already threatening to close. By the time you put her back to the bed she is out again, so no private show is needed this time.

Walking out of the room you see Harry putting on his shoes and coat. For a split second you feel disappointed that he is leaving, but then your rational side puts you to your place. Of course he is leaving! Val is fine now, there’s no other reason for him to stay, right?

“Harry,” you softly say and he looks at you. “Can you please not tell Rosa and Steven that I needed help with Val?” you quietly ask, though there’s no doubt your eyes are practically begging him.

“No way I’ll ever admit to Steven that I sang ABBA to his child, so don’t worry about it,” he chuckles making you smile as well.

“Thank you. And for helping me as well. I was really close to giving it up,” you admit folding your arms on your chest as Harry stands at the front door, hand on the door knob as he is looking back at you.

“No problem. Now you owe me one,” he smirks and you can’t hold yourself back from rolling your eyes.

“Sure,” you say with an airy chuckle. “Good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Y/N,” he smiles at you sweetly before opening the door and walking out.

You take his place at the door and watch him walk down the eerily quiet hallway. He turns back to you one last time waving in your way and you nod back smiling before he disappears around the corner.

Closing the door you lean your back against it, taking a deep breath. Your eyes wander over to the couch where you and Harry were sleeping not so long ago. The feeling of his arm around you is still burned into your mind and you breathe in shakily as a memory snaps into your head of the exact same thing, only years earlier.

You lied almost exactly like that in his hotel room that night. His strong arms wrapped around you as you had your head laid on his chest, listening to his heartbeat that was slightly faster than the normal. Though you were still quite drunk, this feeling imprinted into your memories, because you felt so safe with him. Like nothing could ever hurt you if he was there with you.

Unfortunately, that feeling faded into nothing when you woke up in the morning quite fast. But this time, instead of disappointment and disgust, the only thing you still feel is the emptiness at the lack of his touch.

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leerongrong · 4 years ago

Text

❥ 𝐍𝐂𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 – sending them the wrong text

⌜ mark ⌟

mark watches from the corner of his eye as you tap at the screen of your phone, a shy smile present on your face. he's waving his hand side to side, trying to get your attention, only to pout when he fails to. he perks up the moment his phone dings, opening it to see multiple messages from you.

[11:45] you sent a message.

i think the sun's starting to get to me

[11:45] you sent a message.

the more i look at him the more he shines

[11:46] you sent a message.

nvm that I CANT TAKE MY EYES OFF OF HIM

[11:46] you sent a message.

did you see him smile when he saw watermelon? the smile he had while eating them :((

[11:46] you sent a message.

and not to be nsfw but the more i look at him,,, the hotter he looks??? is that even possible????

[11:46] you sent a message.

he was so small so cute when we first met in 5th grade

[11:47] you sent a message.

fuck i think im in love with him i think im in love with mark

[11:48] you sent a message.

i think im in love with my bestfriend

he started off confused, eyes flitting from the first of your texts, slowly dragging themselves to the end. his small pout slowly turns into a smile, to a full blown grin when they finally reach the last of them, when they finally reach his name.

"holy." mark started off with mumbles, his head turning from you to his phone so fast he might get whiplash. "she- she's in love with me.." the farther he gets through his sentence, the louder he becomes, catching not only peoples attention, but also yours. "she's freaking in love with me!"

your furrowed eyebrows is the first thing he sees, running across the pool and straight to you, barreling into you and accidentally sending the both of you into the water. you're both spluttering when you break through the water's surface, your face an expression of disbelief while his is of pure joy.

he doesn't regret pulling you down with him, sealing your lips in an underwater kiss that tastes of watermelon and grape ice cream.

⌜ renjun ⌟

the soft glow of your phone disturbs renjun. the only source of light in the otherwise dark theater room, playing the movie you begged him to watch with you. he's rolling his eyes in annoyance, still gripping the half finished popcorn, hands coming back and forth from his mouth towards the salty snack.

soon after, the soft tapping of your fingers against the screen takes his interest off the movie. renjun's eyes sneak a peak, slightly leaning his body against his head rest so he could take a better look at what has your full interest.

[19:06] you sent a message.

leee jenooo

[19:07] you sent a message.

as cheesy as it sounds,,, the movie's right in front of me but the one view i want to see is him

[19:07] you sent a message.

i know its stupid to say but i just feel...happy whenever im around him

[19:07] you sent a message.

it doesnt matter where we are it freaking doesnt matter what we're doing and it FREAKING DOESNT MATTER WHO'S THERE WITH US

[19:08] you sent a message.

all i know is that when im with him im happy

[19:08] you sent a message.

it doesnt matter if it's all gray and blue hes the splash of color and thats all i need..

[19:09] you sent a message.

im all soft for him like this,, i just wish i could tell him 🙃

the slight ringing in his ears should worry him, along with the excessive warmth that's suddenly spreading through his body, face, and ears. the slight twitch of his fingers should too, as if his body is reacting in a way only you can make him, as if it's finally accepting the pull.

the clearing of his throat startles you, making you instinctively hide your phone in the corner of your seat. your eyes zoom in on his reddening face, leaning in closer to make sure, amidst all the darkness. "renjun? what's wrong?" pressing the palm of your hand to his burning forehead. "do you have a fever? junnie, you should've told me."

renjun's still stubbornly looking at the screen, taking a deep breath and doing a countdown before he takes your hand in his, intertwining the two as your eyebrows furrow.

he starts leaning in, coming closer and closer to your face that it makes you lean back in your seat, trying to look away from his face. "i think this isn't a good date," he whispers, "how about we go on an official one tomorrow?"

the wide cinema screen is the audience to the scene renjun puts on, leaving a peck at the edge of your lips as shy smile spreads on his.

⌜ jeno ⌟

[09:08] you sent a message.

i love it when jeno smiles

[09:08] you sent a message.

i mean :: have you seen his smile? those pretty cresent moon eye smiles that's just so freaking cute it makes me want to kiss him all over

[09:09] you sent a message.

and not be weird or anything,,, but his height is perfect. imagine running into his arms and just being all warm because we all know jeno gives the best hugs 😫

[09:09] you sent a message.

is it weird to think about hugging and snuggling with your best friend? to think about how pretty his smile is and how you want to kiss away his cute pout?

[09:10] you sent a message.

yes? no? mark, i think i'm in too deep here..

the minute jeno reads your texts, he's out the door. he doesn't care about the thunderstorm going on outside, he doesn't listen to his member's shouts about bringing an umbrella. all that's running around his mind is you. all he can think about is how he desperately wants to hug you in his arms, so tightly he knows you're going to start to whine. all he wants to do is to kiss you. after 5 years of pinning over you, he finally has the chance to.

he's met with water the moment he runs out in the rain, not caring about the thunder and wind that's pelting down his body. he's soaking wet when he reaches your front door, drenched in water as he knocks and is met with your cutely confused face.

"lee jeno!" your eyes are as wide as saucers, quickly starting to tug him inside when you see his condition. "what are you doing you idiot?! you could get sick!"

he doesn't give you much time to talk (or to start hitting him for being stupid) when he puts his hands on your cheeks and pulls you into a kiss, the atmosphere reminding him of two lovers running through the rain to see each other in movies.

the cold and fever he gets the next day is worth it, especially with your cuddles and chicken soup to get him through the day.

⌜ haechan ⌟

[07:10] you sent a message.

i may be in love with donghyuck

[07:11] you sent a message.

i think he's just the most sweetest, funniest, dorkiest guy with the most perfect smile and laugh

[07:11] you sent a message.

the one who brights up my day (ironically), my full sun

[07:12] you sent a message.

but love is such a fickle thing <3

he wouldn't notice at first, too busy goofing off with chenle and mark, until jeno points out his phone buzzing and lighting up with notifications. the biggest smile would light up his face, so bright and wide, and he just freezes in his place, not even moving or looking away from his phone that it makes the others worry.

starts jumping and squealing, shoving his phone into the other's faces to show off your text when he finally breaks out of his stupor, heart beating so fast renjun tries to make him take deep breaths before he passes out.

doesn't care when his members tell him to carry out with caution, that it could be one of your usual pranks. all he can see is you and him, going on dates and cuddling. after all, it isn't every day your bestfriend (whom you have feelings towards) since diapers confesses.

[07:44] haechan sent a message.

so you have a crush on me😏

[07:44] haechan sent a message.

i'm not surprised, i AM a natural charmer

[07:45] you sent a message.

WHAT

[07:45] you sent a message.

HOW THOU FRICK

[07:46] you sent a message.

wrong message wrong person sorry haha

[07:47] haechan sent a message.

"i am in love with donghyuck."

[07:47] haechan sent a message.

"sweetest, funniest, dorkiest guy with the most perfect smile."

[07:49] you sent a message.

i MAY be in love. MAY. not AM you narcissistic freak

[07:50] haechan sent a message.

i MAY be in love with you too

ends up taking you to the carnival for your first date, winning you stuffed animals and dragging you on rollercoaster after rollercoaster (definitely not because he likes the way you wrap around him whenever you get scared), finishes the day with a photobooth and a kiss on the ferris wheel.

⌜ jaemin ⌟

the coffee shop is relatively bustling, people going in and out the moment they receive their orders, or stay inside to enjoy their cup of coffee. you and jaemin being the latter, both your perspective orders on the brown wooden desk, along side your thick biology books.

your book has been untouched for the last hour, notes and highlighters thrown onto it as you tap at your phone, eyes flitting from the screen to jaemin's face every few moments.

[07:22] you sent a message.

we're currently studying biology

[07:23] you sent a message.

oh welp im lying,, he's learning biology and i'm relearning all my favorite things about him

[07:23] you sent a message.

that was so cheesy- ive been spending way too much time with nana 🤧

[07:23] you sent a message.

he's mumbling something about adjectives to explain biology

[07:24] you sent a message.

the one three adjectives i can explain is him

[07:24] you sent a message.

focused, motivated, oh and most definitely cute

you don't seem to notice jaemin's eyes on you, a coy smile on his lips as he checks his nonstop buzzing phone, slightly giggling at how you seem to not notice you've sent your texts to the wrong person.

"if I had to choose between DNA and RNA, i’d choose RNA because it has u in it.” his sudden voice startles you, making you yelp and raise your head to look at him in bewilderment. "we fit together like the sticky ends of recombinant DNA.”

"excuse me, na jaemin." throwing a raised eyebrow at him along with a sarcastic chuckle. "but i don't understand smart talk."

"you must be a red blood cell because you take the oxygen away from my lungs straight to my heart.” the coy smile he sends you doesn't solve anything, and it takes you moments until you finally start to catch on to his quips.

"DNA spelled backward is AND, as in… me AND you"

jaemin's blinking, breaking into a laugh that shakes the table just enough to spill some of his coffee onto his notes. an excited grin breaks out on your face, butterflies flying in your tummy as his eyes glaze over with a sudden emotion.

"my sudden protracted cardiac arrhythmia tells me i love you."

⌜ chenle ⌟

5 minutes to his last buzzer and chenle's looking for you in the bleachers. his eyes are searching through the crowds of people, trying to find you in his signature red and white jersey, only to pout and huff when all he sees is unknown people waving at him, perking up seconds later when his phone vibrates.

[15:30] you sent a message.

look at him down there!

[15:30] you sent a message.

he looks like a freaking super star

[15:30] you sent a message.

hes THE ace,,, hes MY ace ohmygod :((

[15:31] you sent a message.

i just want him to know that whatever happens hes a winner in my heart yaknow??? not as if hes gonna lose i mean my chenle is the best one out there!!!!

[15:32] you sent a message.

pray for me bcs if he does win im gonna give him a big fat smooch :)

the coach calls for him before he has time to process your message, casually dragging him to play for his last round. his eyes are flitting from the score board, with a big red 60 vs 60 displayed, to the hoards of people. his eyes land on your for a second, the moment enough for you to send him a victory smile and thumbs up.

it's only in the last seconds when he scores the winning goal for his team does he celebrate, running away from the sports ground and leaving his confused team behind as he purposely looks for you. it's when you crash into his arms does he lift you into them, pressing a disorienting kiss onto your lips, with his teams roaring cheers as the background.

"i'm your chenle, i'm your ace!" it takes a minute for you to process his words, clicking two and two together before your jaw goes slack and an embarrased groan escapes from your lips. chenle grins when you bury your face in his chest, shaking you in his arms with all his added excitement. "can i have another kiss?" he peeps down to take a look at you, sending a bashful smile.

⌜ jisung ⌟

"park jisung this isn't funny!" you're sprinting down the stairs, a fair distance away from jisung who's already reached your kitchen, running for his life with your phone in his hand. "give me my phone back! jisung, i swear to god!"

the big laugh that erupts from jisung only gets to you even more, trying to run even faster after your neighbor whom you have had a crush for since childhood. all the while jisung is having the time of his life, running to your living room and cramping his lanky body into the first place he thinks of hiding, wedged between two sofas.

jisung's putting in your password, his birthday, and he's opening the message you've just received from renjun, reading your most recent chat with the chinese boy.

[14:09] you sent a message.

i dont know jun...

[14:09] you sent a message.

what if me confessing only makes us awkward?

[14:10] you sent a message.

i dont care if he rejects me, its jisung we're talking about here! he wouldn't hurt a fly! i dont think he'd break my heart that much..

[14:10] you sent a message.

i dont want 10 years of our friendship to go down the pipe just because of some stupid crush i have towards him

[14:11] you sent a message.

what am i going to do jun?

it takes jisung a moment to read between your texts and another minute to process that the boy you have a crush on, is in fact, him. the more he thinks about it, the more jisung regrets being a slow poke because the moment he finished, you're bounding in between the sofas and taking your phone from him.

there's a moment of silence, of you staring at the phone now in your hand and of jisung staring at his feet, shuffling and pouting his lips.

"jisung, i like you."

"i would never break your heart."

it's the day you became both jisung's bestfriend and lover, with him taking you on a date to the park later in the afternoon.

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jjmaybanksbaby · 3 years ago

Text

Where It Leads (Rafe Cameron)

Summer IV

Part 07: Crashing Down

series masterlist | previous part

summary: A jarring family emergency forces you to consider the future of your relationship with Rafe Cameron.

a/n: I'm a little bit emotional about this series ending because I've had so much fun writing it! Enjoy the last part and, as always, please come share your reactions with me in my inbox. Okay, that's all from me!

word count: 2.1k words

Rafe Cameron knew how to text. He was somehow witty, charming, and hilarious all in less characters than a single tweet. Texting with most boys was like talking to a brick wall: single-syllable answers, unironic uses of punctuation, asking “What are you wearing?” before even listening to how your day went. Though, to be fair, Rafe had asked that same question a few times, which always earned him a sarcastic answer in return. Well, except for that one time.

You’d been forced to spill the beans about your dreamy summer romance to Alice and Kensie after one of Rafe’s funnier texts almost made you pee yourself laughing at the lunch table.

“Oh, so he’s a stud muffin,” Alice announced, peering over Kenzie’s shoulder at the photo on your phone.

“Please god don’t call anyone a stud muffin ever again Al,” Kenzie replied.

“What? The 80s are like making a comeback.”

“Yeah, not that,” you countered and Alice huffed.

“He’s totally hot though,” Kenzie said, handing the phone back to you. “And I kinda hate you for not telling us about him.”

You looked down at the picture. Rafe was kissing your check while you grinned up at the camera, the golden hour lighting made the whole thing look rather enchanting. It was your favorite picture of you and him.

“Oh shit,” Kenzie said causing you to look up from the phone. “You’re like in love in love with him.”

“What? No,” you protested. Yes, your brain corrected.

Kenzie glanced over at Alice for backup.

“Besides, I wasn’t hiding him. I just didn’t know if there was anything there to...tell,” you finished.

“I wish I had a handsome summer fling with spectacular cheekbones,” Alice sighed.

“Don’t let your boyfriend hear you saying that.” Kenzie chucked a fry off her tray at Alice who dodged it expertly.

“Oh, please. Matty knows I would dump his ass for someone who looks like a young Chuck Bass any day of the week. Gimme your phone. I wanna see the photos again y/n.”

“I seriously don’t know how you and Matthew have been together for two years,” Kenzie replied.

“Are you kidding? They’re practically made for each other,” you added.

“The phone, please,” Alice interjected. “I wanna thirst over your mans while my boyfriend is sucking up to his English teacher so she doesn’t fail him. Of course, I told him he needed to actually read Wuthering Heights and not just sparknotes it. But did he listen? No. I picked a real winner y’all,” she finished, taking the phone from your outstretched hands. “You sure Rafe doesn’t have any brothers? Not even like a half-step brother?”

So yeah, going great. Against the odds of three thousand miles, the whole thing was somehow working. Long-distance friends with benefits? Check. Well, except for those moments when that nagging feeling in your stomach came back and you’d start overthinking everything. His texts would sit, unread in your phone for days or even a whole week, slowly sinking to the bottom of your messages.

Then came the call from the Kildare Country Hospital in the early hours of a foggy April morning. You should have gone to sleep hours ago but were still up, desperately trying to cram Maria’s lines into your brain while also texting Rafe. The Sound of Music opened in three weeks and your director had already chewed you out twice for not being off-book, something about being an upperclassman and the lead, and what kind of an example were you setting for the rest of the program. Big speeches were kind of your director's thing, you learned to just ride them out.

Around 1 a.m. your phone ran with an incoming FaceTime call from Rafe. You pressed the green acccept button, a smile spread across your face as Rafe’s own filled the screen.

“Hey Broadway Star.”

“Hi Rafe.” The dim lighting of his bedroom made his feature especially striking. “What are you still doing up?”

“Can’t sleep. Plus you’re up too so. How’s the memorizing going?”

“Shitty,” you replied, closing your binder with a sigh. “I’m too tired to do anymore of it tonight anyway.”

“You know, I was thinking I could come to Oregon for your opening night?”

“Really?” The possibility of Rafe sitting in the audience made your heart race.

“Yeah, why not? I’ll ask Ward if I can borrow the plane that weekend and I bet Sarah’ll want to come too. I wanna see my girl kill it. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Rafe. You know my friends think you’re hot.”

“Oh, do they?” Rafe replied, rolling over onto his back in his bed.

“Don’t let it get to your head, Cameron.”

The home phone ran but you ignored it, much more invested in your conversation with Rafe. The second time the hospital left a message. Your Nonna’s heart had given out. The prognosis wasn’t good. She had barely any time left.

Your heart dropped as the words echoed over the speaker of the answering machine.

“Rafe,” you said, cutting him off momentarily. “I gotta go. I’ll call you back later. I gotta-” you ended the call before Rafe even had the chance to respond. You dropped your phone on the kitchen table, dashing up the stairs to your parents’ bedroom. Your father was booking a flight for your mother back to the Outer Banks minutes later.

The end had come so quickly, so unexpectedly. It was almost like that made it harder. There'd been just enough time for your mom and uncle to get to the Outer Banks, sitting on each side of your Nonna as her final breaths passed through her lungs. Now, everyone was there to say goodbye one last time. Uncle Austin and his fiancé. Your mom and dad. Both your siblings. The entire population of Figure Eight.

☼☼☼

Rain drizzled down from the dark, gray clouds looming overhead. It was as if Mother Nature was mourning your Nonna too, hiding the sunshine away.

Three baby ducks followed their mama into the man-made pond at the edge of the cemetery. You watched their tiny feet kick up small waves disturbing the peaceful water and the tears silently slipped down your face.

The cars were waiting to take you back to your Nonna's house for the wake. The same house with the for-sale sign now stuck in the front yard. The for-sale sign with Rose's patronizing grin that you were starting to really hate. Your dad had handled that. Listing the house. He'd handled most of the funeral arrangement's actually because your mother had been too sunken into her grief to make any decision. Sending out the invitations, picking out your Nonna's casket, choosing the flowers. Your mother clung to him during the entire funeral, weeping into his shoulder.

“Y/n?” Rafe's voice called out from behind you and you turned to see him walked toward you. He’d stood at the back of the church with his family during the funeral. You had longed for him to be sitting in the first pew next to you, to have had his hand to hold onto to ground you, but it hardly would have been appropriate. Your Nonna would have sooner risen from the dead than have had a Cameron front row at her funeral.

As soon as he was close enough, Rafe reached for you, pulling your body tight into him. Your head landed on his chest and the sobs came moments later. God, he always smelled the same. He just let you cry, holding you close, smoothing his hand over your hair.

“I know you’re selling your grandma’s house but I was thinking you could stay with me for the summer," he said as your tears began to slow. It was hard to imagine that you wouldn't return to the Outer Banks once school let out. It was the first week of May already and you could feel the tourist-attracting town waking up. But selling the house just made more sense. Your older sister was already living her life in New York, a real adult life. Next summer, you'd be moving out too, headed to college. The house would sit empty for eight months out of the year, your family couldn't keep it and your uncle certainly didn’t want it. Selling it just had to happen.

You stepped back, slipping out of his embrace. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Rafe.”

“Why not?”

“Cause we’re like Romeo and Juliet.”

“I copied Cleo’s notes for that unit," he joked, trying to lighten to damp mood. “Plus I was never a fan of Leo DiCaprio so I didn’t finish the movie either.”

“It means we’re not supposed to be together, you and me. And whenever we try, the universe rips us apart. We hurt each other.”

Rafe shifted awkwardly on his feet, clearly wanting to reach for you again but stopping himself from doing it. “But I can't lose you.”

You reached your hand out, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. “Oh Rafe, don’t you get it? You never really had me.” You stood up onto your tiptoes to kiss him just like you had the first time three years ago. Rafe barely parted his lips, kissing you back gently. Your hand cupped his face, your thump stroking over his cheek. It was a goodbye. Both of you knew it. It was an ending and this was your closure. You pulled away, your hand falling away from his face.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say the actual words. Your eyes fell to the ground. You needed to walk away now. You side-stepped Rafe but he grabbed your waist, turning you back around to face him.

“So that’s it? You’re not even gonna try to fight for us?”

“What even is there to fight for, Rafe? I’ve been fighting for us for the past four years. If we were supposed to be together that car wouldn’t have crashed into ours, I wouldn’t have fallen for Evan when I did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation at my Nonna’s funeral. What? Are we supposed to do long distance for all of college? I hardly know who I am right now. I have no idea who I’ll be in the next four years. Our future selves might not even like each other. I’m not gonna wait around for you Rafe and I would never ask you to do that for me.” You twirled the small, star charm between your fingers, a nervous habit you'd developed over the past year. His eyes dropped down to your neck momentarily and his adam's apple visibly bobbing as he swallowed his next weeks.

“You were it for me, you know. I tried to give a fuck about anyone else but I couldn’t get your gorgeous, stupid face out of my mind. I only wanted you.” Rafe paused gauging your reaction “I was falling in love with you.”

Your eyes wandered over his stoic expression. “The feeling was mutual, Rafe Cameron.”

He dropped your wrist but you both stood, not moving or saying anything. “Do you wanna walk me back to the car?”

“Yeah.” He reached for your hand, interlocking your fingers. Your other hand held onto his bicep so you walked together through the graveyard back to the parking lot.

The moment felt precious and delicate, like the fragile china your Nonna used to collect. You wondered what would happen to all that china.

Rafe placed a chaste kiss on your lips before opening the door of the car.

“I’ll miss you,” you said, the words hanging in the air meaning so much.

“Me too,” Rafe agreed.

You wanted one more kiss, one more passionate declaration of how much this all had meant but that would make leaving Rafe so much more impossible.

You climbed into the car, dropping Rafe’s hand in the process.

“See you around Cameron.” You knew it wouldn’t happen but it felt better than a goodbye.

He smiled back. “Maybe so.”

Perhaps Rafe was right and you’d both end up at a small liberal arts college in California taking the same second-year Econ class with a professor who always smelled like weed. Perhaps the stars would align and two of you would realize the universe wasn’t trying to keep you apart. It was just waiting for the right moment to show you that the love you had for each other was the soulmates, forever and ever kind of love. Perhaps you would get married and Sarah would be your maid of honor, of course. You’d buy back your Nonna’s house to raise your troubling-making kids in. Perhaps, you would find your way back and wake up each day and choose each other again and again.

Or perhaps, he'd always be your right-person-wrong-time. And, in the end, the passing days will steal away your memories of the blue-eyed boy from the Outer Banks.

taglist! @oreoenthusiast13

#outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron series #obx netflix #obx #obx fanfic #where it leads series #where it leads

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kuronanox · 4 years ago

Text

Every moment with you-Ukitake Jushiro

"If I had to be reborn every lifetime it would always be you."

(Your Name) sighs while sitting on the floor packing all her belongings and putting them in boxes to move out the barracks. This was the hardest thing to do, everything they shared and everything Ukitake had were being placed else where. It didn't feel right to her but and she just lost her husband and home.

She felt lifeless as Kyoraku sat across from her and frowned. Of course he was still heart broken by his best friend, his brother death. They were inseparable.

"(Your Name) I know it's hard but I promise you things will get better."

"Better said than done." She answers back but doesn't look him in the eye and folds his captains cloth placing it in a nice decorative box where she put all his special belongings.

"You will be okay out there?" He asks worriedly as she nods her head in response and rubs her red eyes from all the crying.

"I'll check up on you every often." Kyoraku sits himself up and takes one last look of Ukitake and (Your Name) house before looking down and bidding a farewell.

"(Your Name) come here." Ukitake kindly smiles at his wife as she set the hot tea down. Walking towards him he held a brush as she sat in front of him and hummed in delight.

"You know my favorite part of the day is at night and we get to spend quality time together." He says as she hums in response.

"My favorite part is waking up to you." She answers back as he chuckles and ties her hair back in a low bun as she turns towards him.

"I guess your answer is better than mine." He slightly pouts and takes a sip of the tea that was prepared.

(Your Name) curled in bed alone as she cried again they spend hundreds and years together as friends and the love of each other life's. So she asked herself how do you fully heal if you've spend most your life depending on each other.

Ukitake was no longer here, who could she depend on that was like him? His soothing voice and calming nature made her feel secure.

Looking out the window it was a starry night as she moved out to the country side to heal more. Setting up his shrine and everything else it was weird. Never had she been alone like this.

(Your Name) wondered was his soul reborn yet? Was he in Rukongai or the Human World? Either way it would be impossible to find him. There's was millions of soul getting reborn everyday.

"You're sick! I'm not letting you leave this room." (Your Name) yells at Ukitake as he coughs and holds onto his desk for support as she ran to his side and held him up.

"Yes but work comes first." He says softly and sits back down to do unfinished business.

"Honey. You've down enough, maybe it's time you retired? It's only a matter of time and you are only getting older!" She exclaims as he chuckles and swats her away kindly.

"I still look young though."

She rolled her eyes and pouted, Ukitake health was slowly getting worse but it never stopped him from working hard and supporting his squad.

There were times she worried he didn't have long to live because of how severely sick he would get at times but those thoughts she bore were heavy on her heart.

"I'm just scared...what if something bad happens to you?"

Ukitake looks up to her and grabs her hand gently with his and kisses it.

"I'm here right now that's all that matters."

"But what if there comes a time you aren't no more?" She questions as he knits his brows to find words to say.

Ukitake didn't know what to say because he also knew.

"You know I'll always have you and I'll be somewhere better." Although those weren't the words he wanted to say the truth had to be told as she looks down and nods.

"I love you." She whispers and he smiles.

"I love you too."

Waking up the sun peaked up as she groaned and looked towards her side.

"I guess its still a habit. I can imagine you here but you aren't here."

Getting ready for the day she had a unexpected visitor. Well it was expected but he didn't tell her.

"Good morning!" Kyoraku happily says walking into her new place as she smiles back and lets him in.

They both said their prayers to the shine before setting up the table to eat breakfast.

"How are you holding up?"

She wanted to lie but didn't know how to.

"It's okay, I can't say I haven't stop crying and doing old habits but I think being out here is better and getting the fresh air feels nice."

The older man hums in response and stares out to look at the flowers scattered everywhere. "He would have loved it out here."

"I know... that's why I decided to come out here. It's more like 'you've worked hard let's go rest somewhere peaceful now' I know it's time for me to rest also."

Kyoraku smiles and then looks at Ukitake picture.

"He's smiling down at us (Your Name) theres no need to torture yourself no more."

She rolls her eyes playfully and looks at the picture too before grinning. "I know but it's hard."

"I'm not leaving him!" (Your Name) screamed at Kyoraku as Ukitake prayed to Mimihagi as to becoming the right hand of the soul king.

"I promised him you would not die in this war!"

(Your Name) cried as she watched Ukitake sacrifice himself and suffer in pain.

"You knew and didn't tell me, you guys both knew! How could you let me leave him like this." As she cried and fell on the floor.

Kyoraku grabbed her forcefully as she struggled to get loose and she screamed in pain.

"I'm not letting him leave by himself."

"Don't be selfish (Your Name) you aren't thinking! He's doing this for the sake of Seireitei! He's doing this for everyone! For you!" Kyoraku yells at her as she looks away and cries into his chest.

Glancing back at Ukitake she wasn't sure if he was still physically here.

Wiping her tears she cooled her head and nodded.

Kyoraku left as she signed and laid in bed. She would go back to work when she was fully healed but as of right now she didn't wanna do anything.

Life at this point had no meaning to her if he was gone.

"I promise you I'll get better."

50 years later

It took her a few years after Ukitake death to piece herself back together, during the time she went back to being a shinigami and full filling her duties to protect souls and those she loved.

There had been a disturbance in the world of living so her and few lieutenants were sent down to the world of living to check it out.

"I feel a high reitsu coming from the west." Hisagi says as him and Kira went to check it out.

"I'll check east and Renji will go south." Rangiku tells (Your Name) as she nods and follows north.

It had been many years since she was last down here. It had been during Aizen's battle.

"The human world has changed quite a bit."

After reporting a few suspicious incident to Kyoraku she watched the sunset alone waiting for the others.

A man in his 30s walked by her reading a book, he was smiling peacefully with his hair tied in a low pony and a nice button up.

The white hair tamed.

She gasped slightly as he looked up to her and his eyes widen a bit.

"You can see me?" She asks questioning him.

"I can see you, Ive seen many things since I was a child." Ukitake laughs not fazed a bit from her outfit and sword.

She felt happy tears fall from her eyes as he jumped a bit afraid he had hurt her feelings because she was dead and he wasn't.

"I'm sorry, I'm just so happy. You're alive."

He tilts his head in confusion as she wipes them away.

"My name is (Your Name)." She introduced herself as he kindly bowed

Although she wanted to bring him back he had a different life here and showing them together would only confuse him.

"Your name sounds familiar to me." Ukitake says as she sadly smiled and lied to him. "Maybe it's common around here?"

"No it's pretty unique. I've heard it somewhere." He says but can't seem to connect the clues.

Oh how was the world was cruel to them both at this moment. She would have to remember all the memories of them as his was mixed with confusion and facts.

"Do you believe in rebirth?" She then asks him as he nods his head. She took a deep breath and said the following words Ukitake told her before his death and sacrifice.

"If I had to be reborn every lifetime it would always be you."

Ukitake touches his head as it started to feel a bit dizzy and she held him and he gasps. He knew for sure something about her was familiar but he was getting frustrated not being able to figure it out.

Tears fell from her face as Ukitake eyes were watering. "Why am I crying? My body is doing it on its own."

Ukitake was beyond confused but she wouldn't let him suffer no longer. She knew he was safe and happily healthy living down here and that's all she needed to know.

"I'll wait a few more years for you and then we'll meet up there."

Ukitake looks at her and reached his hand out. He didn't want her to leave this comforting feeling and Ukitake knew he knew her somehow but he can't remember.

Kissing his forehead she took one last glance and disappeared.

"I'll see you then my love. I'll watch over you till it's your time and then we can finally be together again."

Ukitake looks up to the sky as the uncontrollable tears fell from his face and he tried his best to compose himself. He just couldn't as he cried, he felt something from her and he would have to wait.

As much as he wanted the pain to leave, his own heart neglected his mind.

"I'll see you again (Your Name)."

(Authors note: Oo so sad, Ukitake is literally so precious, he didn't deserve death.)

#bleach #tite kubo #bleach x reader #bleach oneshots #bleach oneshot #bleach imagine #bleach imagines #bleach ukitake #jushiro ukitake #jūshirō ukitake #ukitake jushiro #bleach Jushiro #bleach Kyoraku #shunsui kyoraku #kyoraku shunsui

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