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sweetea-rosey · 3 years ago

Note

Ooo hi I saw you take requests? I have a writing request if you want to :))

So here is my idea:

Remus has a notebook given to him by the other sides to write his thoughts down in. See, Remus has clear impulse control problems so this notebook of for him to write his thoughts down instead of just doing and saying whatever comes to mind. It gives him a chance to think about it. Sometimes, maybe like once a week give or take a few days one of the other sides will sit down with him and read his thoughts with him just to make him feel validated and heard. Well this particular time one of the sides (of your choice) sat down with the notebook and found some rather interesting things.

Now, you can take this one of two ways (it’s really all up to you!)- You can make this something angsty (hurt comfort), or you can make it something shippy! It can be any Remus ship you want but I personally am more partial to intrulogical hehe 💙💚

Take your time and have fun with it!! Have a good day :)

Ah! Ty for the request! I started writing it on the day you submitted it, but Tumblr deleted it after a while of not saving :') so now my motivation to do this is deterred

Anyway, this'll be my first time not writing something Roman centric =w=""

Remus held the book in his hands. He remembered the day Roman gave it to him, when he risked traveling into the dark scape because he knew his brother needed this. Because he did, too.

An outlet.

A place for his monstrosities to be, other than inside his head, allowed to torture him to their best abilities. The illusions his mind creates are no longer just in his eyes. It's no longer insanity- it's creativity. The journal isn't the first one. But he and Roman make sure to keep eachother stocked up; they get filled rather quickly. The Imagination holds an entire library dedicated to their filled journals from over the years.

The journals have also become sort of diaries to them. So, imagine what were to happen if one of them got lost? The possibility of their secrets being seen by unbidden eyes.

Remus burst into Roman's room, "Ro!"

Roman jumped from his spot at his desk, "Jeez- ! What is it?"

Oddly, for Remus, he seemed almost anxious, "Have you seen my latest journal?"

Ah, that explains it. Roman understands the severity of losing something that holds your private thoughts. He stood up from his desk chair, turning to face Remus better, "No, I haven't. Is it missing?"

Remus nodded, unable to speak through the panic coursing through his veins, the hormone mixing with the feeling of the plasma we call blood rushing through veins and arteries, rest in his heart, which is thumping with vigor, the- Remus shook himself. The imagery coming on its own with nothing to do with it, "Thoughts, thoughts thoughts, thoughts, blood, where? Everywhere? It is me, I am thoughts and blood and gore and death and slime, and..."

Roman pulled his brother in, the physical touch of his second half grounding him, finally balanced out with his brother there to help him.

"Breathe, Ree...I get it...I'll help you look for it, okay? Do you have any spare journals?"

Remus shook his head. He had just started this one, he was too busy brainstorming on the pages to remember to restock.

"Okay, do you have the focus to conjur any, right now?"

Remus shook his head again. No no, of course not! He's too focused on the one that's missing!

"Alright, that's okay, Ree. I get it. Here, use this for now," As Roman spoke, he pressed a plain black book in the unstable man's hands, "Get some thoughts out on that, then we can start looking, okay?"

Instead of answering, he made the rest of the way into the prince's room and started letting the thoughts out.

"Feel better?"

Remus let out a breath and nodded, "A lot, thanks. Can we go look, now?"

"Of course, let's go."

It took hours. The sun was gone in Thomas' living room and they were still tearing the place apart, searching absolutely everywhere. Remus was tempted to just dismantle the mind palace and look through the stuff that gets left behind. The fear was boiling in his gut in the ocean of acid.

"What if we don't find it? My blood, sweat, and tears went into that book! Pieces of my heart are in there, I can't lose it, what if someone else finds it and reads it?"

Roman shuddered, because he didn't believe that Remus was being metaphorical, "I understand the severity of the situation, Ree. We should go look in the Lightside, now..."

Remus shrugged as much as his slumped posture will allow, "Sure..."

"We'll find it, Ree..."

"That's not what I'm worried about. If I lose it? Fine, I have others, I can start a new one. I'm scared of someone else finding it and reading it... there's things in there I don't want others seeing..."

"I get it, you know I do. We'll get it back before anyone else can even know it exists, alright?"

Remus just shrugged off his comforting hand, "Stupid prince, always making promises you don't even know if you can keep. Don't do that to yourself and don't do it to me. I'm not stupid enough to fall for that shit."

Roman recoiled, almost physically, "Sometime, people just need reassurance."

"And then, when you're wrong? I know you don't like breaking promises, Princey."

"...Then hopefully we'll figure it out."

"You're such a fucking optimist, it's gross."

Roman rolled his eyes, "I'm helping you look, be nice, you doofus."

"Oh wow, "doofus", I'm so offended," Remus said without much effort.

Roman ignored him.

"It's not HERE!" Remus screamed, a pot crashing through the wall.

Roman manged to muffle the noise and quickly put it back together, "We will, this was only the first room in the Lightside. You need to calm down."

"I can't! What if someone else already found it and read it? What if they hate me? What if they never wanna talk to me again because nothing in there makes sense, what-"

Roman caught his hands, "Woah! Woah...Remus, when did you start caring so much about what the others think of you?"

"I don't!"

"But...-"

"I don't care about what Logan and the other think of me."

"Of what...Logan and the...? Remus...is this about Logan?"

Remus hesitated just long enough.

"Oh great Aphrodite, it is..."

"Aphro-? NO! No, I don't!"

"Remus, is there something about Logan on that book?"

Remus said fuck it in his mind and sighed, "Yes... I...some fantasies...that he might not approve of..."

"Oh, Remus..."

"What if he finds out, and he...? He just doesn't...?"

Roman hit his brother on the head, "This is why you're a doofus. It doesn't matter if he finds it, you have nothing to worry about."

Remus rolled his eyes. Literally. He rolled them like dice and Roman had to look away, but got the message.

"How would you know?"

It was Roman's turn to roll his eyes (PROPERLY).

"I'm leaving you to figure that out. But, I do."

"Sure. Whatever. Asshole."

Roman moved on to look in the next room.

A flash of green leaped onto him and he was tumbling over, the item in his hands flying out.

"Remus!"

The man scrambled over and snatched the book up, "Did you read it?"

"I- no, Remus what is it?"

"It's mine. Roman, I found it!"

Roman? Since when do those two talk? But, as Remus said, Roman walked in.

"Oh, thank Hades."

"Logan had it."

Roman sucked in a breath, "Did he read it?"

Remus shook his head, relief is a weird expression on the man's face.

Logan wouldn't mind seeing it more.

"What is this about?"

Roman took the liberty of answering, "The book is Remus' and it's private. Reading it would be invasive."

"Oh, my apologies, then. But, I had just picked it up, it was left over from Remus' running through the room and into the Imagination, along with some other debris I cleaned up."

"It's alright, nerd."

Logan's gaze lingered on Remus a bit, before he bid his farewells, reminded Roman of some work he needs to do by Friday, then left.

"Y'know," Roman said as they turned to walk back, "You could tell him how you feel."

Remus scoffed, "I'm not self destructive, like you, RoRo."

Ignoring Remus' jabs is difficult for the prince, nevertheless, "And do, pray tell, how it's self destructive?"

"Because he'll say no and that will hurt. I don't like when things actually hurt. I'm not risking him hating me even more."

"Woah, woah, he doesn't hate you."

"Doesn't he? I'm chaotic, irrational, vile, ik everything he fights to keep under control."

Roman digested this and thought hard on how best to explain this, "But that's exactly why you two are perfect for each other. You help him let loose when he's being a stick in the mud and he helps you keep in control of yourself and stay organized.

"You're delusional. He doesn't like me, he can't Ro. It goes against our very beings! Go ahead and fool yourself, but you can't do that to me. That's just cruel." Remus disappeared and Roman sighed as he tried to brush off his brother's words.

As the embodiment of romance, he thinks he'd know when a couple will work out or not. How will he convince his brother and Logan of that? He supposes he can't blame them for that, who would listen to the love advice of someone who loves someone that loves someone else? Kinda hypocritical.

"Just leave me alone!"

"Remus! Would calm down? Just listen to me!"

"No! You're a liar and I hate you! Do you want me to get hurt? You're an asshole you good for nothing prince!" He screamed. Why won't his brother let this go? Doesn't he see that everyone is better this way?

"Fine! You're right! Is that what you want to hear? Call me an asshole, call me stupid, call me evil or whatever! But I'm not wrong! Why don't you believe me? Ha! Why am I trying to reason with the self proclaimed unreasonable?"

Remus looked down from his perch on the guillotine, "Wait, RoRo-!" But he was gone.

"Fuck."

He rushed out, hoping to Loki that he didn't do too much damage.

"Roman!"

But he found who he wants looking for.

"Why are you screaming in the middle of the common room?" Came that cool and sexy voice.

"Looking for my brother, duh."

"Funny, I just spoke to him."

"Where'd he go?"

"Not sure, but he told me to stop being a robotic fake and confess to you."

"He- ? ROMAN!" Remus summoned a hammer and maybe there's a new hole in the wall.

"He was right, surprisingly."

Remus was not expecting that, "Come again?"

"I have noticed, over the course of our interactions, that I have developed feelings that I didn't recognized until Roman brought them to my attention. Remus...I have romantic feelings for you."

And it was the last casual and calculated confession Remus ever heard. He imagined something with ropes. But it was the best thing he ever heard. He didn't expect to be crying.

"Remus?"

"I like you, too..."

Logan brightened and stood up, his heart beating unnaturally, yet pleasently, as he moved closer, "Then... perhaps we...?"

But before he could finish, Remus pulled him in and there was no need for words.

Part 2 with what happened with Roman afterwards?

Ty so much for the request and I apologies for the long wait.

@fireflyjunkie

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bastillewolf · 4 years ago

Text

Corpse's Bride (I)

Pairing: Corpse Husband / Reader

Summary: When you end up in an unfortunate arranged marriage to salvage what is left of your parents’ wealth, it seems fate has other ideas in store for you; or perhaps it was the Devil who decided to bring back the dead?

Notes: Yea, I don’t know why I wrote this either, and no idea where this series is gonna go. If you have any suggestions, please send them. But I wanted to write something for Christmas since I haven’t posted in a while. I hope you all have safe and happy holidays! Let’s just get 2020 over with, please.

Tag list currently closed.

Chapter I - The wedding

Somewhere through the clouds of smoke erupting from the city, just beyond the hills, lies a small town called Gloomington. Where the streets are always swept and yet seem never clean, where birds fly high through the sky yet never manage to reach the clouds, and where dreams are crushed underneath the wheels of creaking carriages and half-empty fish barrels. It might seem like the most boring old town, with its inhabitants that look like they’re either on the brink of death or very much willing to be, but it wasn’t to you. No, to you life appeared much more interesting, though not by your own volition. You did not turn a blind eye to the grey streets or creaking bones or listening ears, as they had always been the same to you, but the troubles you had yet to bear were much too big to focus on anything else.

Your parents had deemed that on your twenty-first birthday, you were finally fit for marriage. It was the age that they had gotten married, and by tradition, through their parents as well. Why they had decided to force this upon you as well, you did not know, for as long as you could remember you’d only ever thought of your parents to be miserable together. Their time with you was now something of the past, however, because if all went well today, you would be married within just a day or two.

It was already raining, which would’ve made the situation so much gloomier to you if you hadn’t been revelling in the fact that it meant you could take the carriage instead of walk. You didn’t mind getting your shoes or the hem of your dress dirty, but other people did. And the people you would be seeing today would not approve of anything that wasn’t perfect upon arrival.

You only remembered the Everglots vaguely from your childhood during the instance when you’d been playing in a similar storm and one of their maids had shooed you away, saying you were being too loud and an unfit view for their folk. Their house was a different story, however. It stood tall above all other houses, even yours, so it was hard to miss. You weren’t rich, even though your parents liked to pretend they were. Your father owned the biggest and only fishing company in town; the main source of income from Gloomington. The thing was though, the seas were being overfished, and all he was getting from the ocean now were ones the sizes of goldfish.

You presumed this is why your parents decided to marry you off to the Everglots’ son, Thomas. According to your nanny, they were a bunch of washed-up aristocrats. Otherwise, you’d never even caught a glimpse of them, let alone of their offspring. Which is probably why you were so nervous. If he was anything like his parents personality-wise, you hoped he at least made up for it on the outside.

��Stop fidgeting,” your mother said, snapping you from your daze. You looked down to your hands, which had been crumpling a bunch of the fabric of your dress together, probably creating creases. You wonder if you had subconsciously done it, simply out of spite, because the nerves had numbed any other senses. You smoothed it out, crossed your legs and folded your hands across your lap, to which your mother gave a pleased nod.

A glance towards your father told you not much else, he was too busy going through last-minute calculations in his notebook. This must seem like ordinary business to him.

Your heart jumped a little as you watched the horse pulling your carriage nearly slip in the mud. He’d been in your family for fifteen years now, it was a wonder he was still standing. Perhaps the whip was reason enough for such a solemn animal, confined to his leather straps and iron mouthpiece. You tugged on the silver chain your mother had draped across your neck. Some of the diamonds had been taken out, but you could only see it if you looked very closely.

The carriage wavered and eventually managed to stop with another crack of the whip. It went almost simultaneously with the clash of thunder.

Hopping out, you looked down to see your polished shoes had landed directly in the biggest puddle on the square.

“Oh, miss, you should’ve let me put my coat down for you,” the old coachman called out, rising from his seat.

Your mother’s unnerving gaze followed yours down to the puddle around your feet. “Yes, you should have. I told you to watch your step with those shoes. Henry, clean them up.”

The coachman then proceeded to lay down his coat in the puddle anyways, and even after your protests continued to polish your shoes with his previously clean white handkerchief. You thanked him when he was finished, to which he tipped his hat.

“Hurry up. We’re already late,” your mother said. You wanted to rip the whip from his hands and hit her with it, but your composure and good sense got the better of you.

The massive doorknocker hit the hardwood three times because of your father’s shaky hand, which seemed to collapse back down to his side immediately after.

To your surprise, no maid opened, but the lady of the house herself did. Missus Everglot looked down upon you with a smile that looked more like a sneer. Her hair was greying, almost to the point where it was white, a colour matching the black dress she wore. Weren’t you supposed to wear colour for a special occasion such as this? You’d been so bold to wear something green; your best dress, to be perfectly honest. Were you supposed to wear black?

“It is good to see you again,” she hummed, and your parents made noises of agreement.

“Our apologies for bringing the bad weather. But that usually means good luck!” Your father said. You all laughed, though mostly out of politeness.

She invited you in, and you were finally able to see the grandeur of the Everglots household. Or well, what was left of it. The unlit fireplaces on either side of the entrance hall made you wonder if they no longer had maids working for them or if they simply enjoyed the cold. There was only one butler you saw so far, the one who took your coats from you and then scurried off. A big staircase stood in front of you, leading two opposite directions upstairs.

“Ah! You must be the daughter we’ve been hearing so much about!” Mister Everglot suddenly appeared, his arms spread wide with the same smile as his wife spread across his pale cheeks. He also wore black, though he bore quite a bit more weight than his wife, almost to the point where the top button of his shirt looked like it wanted to bail ship.

“It’s a true pleasure meeting you, mister Everglot,” you replied quietly, holding out your hand for him to shake. He barely did, before brushing you off to gloat about things to your parents. “You know, we’ve picked out the finest gold for the rings. The blacksmith in town just did a marvellous job on them-“

The ring on your hand felt heavy. It was your grandmothers’, passed down from your mother and onto you. Now you had to bear the burden of a loveless marriage.

Your silent sigh was interrupted by a quiet clearing of someone’s throat.

You looked up to meet the eyes of a dark-haired boy, who was scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. He asked you if he got your name right. You nodded politely.

“Hi, I’m- I’m Thomas. It’s very nice to meet you, miss.”

You huffed in amusement at his stuttering. “I don’t think you have to call me ‘miss’, Thomas. We’ll be married soon.”

He smiled shyly. “I would keep calling you ‘miss’ if you preferred it. Marriage wouldn’t change that for me.”

You stood there, slightly aghast. This boy was nothing like his parents. You wondered who had raised him because as you had been fortunate enough with your nanny, you couldn’t imagine his having been any different.

“Better watch it there, Thomas.” Another man strutted down the stairs behind him. He looked just about as pretentious as mister and missus Everglot. “Don’t want to scare the little lady off there.”

Sykkuno only chuckled, but you could sense that his friend didn’t have the best intentions. He introduced himself after you, “The name’s Barkis. I’m a… good family friend of the Everglots, I suppose.” He kissed your hand, which made you shiver uncomfortably. You tried your best to hide it, instead turning your eyes to meet Thomas’ again. They seemed much brighter in this gloomy place.

At least, that’s what you kept reminding yourself of as you looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to refrain from fainting as your mother kept pulling on the strings of your corset until you were quite certain a few ribs had been broken off in the process.

“Now,” she reminded you, “This will be good for the family. I know you’re an unconventional spitfire, - I don’t know who you got that from – but you shall learn to listen to your husband. It will save your father’s business and his honour, not to mention your dignity.”

You couldn’t breathe, you needed air. Your mother saw the look in your eyes.

“And as a final warning, young lady, if you dare to try to run, you better remind yourself that this family will never take you in again. Not when you come crawling back with not a penny to carry, not with a baby you got from another man. You will be as good as dead to us, if you wouldn’t have already died in some gutter.”

You nodded, “I understand, mother. I just need some air.”

She gave you one last glance, before nodding. She locked the door after she left.

It allowed you to burst through the doors to the Everglots balcony, where outside the rain had thankfully settled a bit to a slight drizzle. But you didn’t care if your dress got wet. You had to untie the knot at your back.

Quickly.

But you couldn’t reach.

You leaned across the railing.

If you could reach a little further-

But your hand slipped, and you felt your feet being thrown the wrong way as you plummeted down the second floor.

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#Corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #corpse #among us #youtube fanfiction #corpse bride #pewdiepie #jacksepticeye

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svtkillua · 4 years ago

Text

milk and tea > 5

rating: [pg-13 / angst] genre: soulmate au pairing: todoroki shouto x reader warnings: cursing, heartbreak, angst! word count: 6k

listen while you read here! join the discord!

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - chap 5 - 6 [final]

“This is too much for one person to handle.” Your voice sounded heavy, eyes glued out the window as a few buildings zoomed past your line of sight, the seatbelt across your chest digging uncomfortably into the crook of your neck. Your hand felt like it was burning, the line of gold seeming different now, making your heart thud and anxiety sour through your veins, your blood boiling with anger and confusion. None of it made sense and the longer you digested the information the more it seemed to make your nausea grow, stomach churning when your eyes stayed glued to your palm as you spoke softly into the confining space of Awase’s car. “I feel like I’m going to explode.”

“I know.” Awase’s voice was deep, the kind of sound you could fall asleep too easily at night, laced with the same worry and confusion that was brewing violently in your heart. His hands were clutching the steering wheel when you glanced at him, the white hue from his knuckles giving away his emotions more than the absent look on his face was, his lips parted slightly as he sighed. “You’re positive mine’s the same as hers? As theirs?”

Your head bobbed before you muttered a quiet yes, remembering the way his face had twisted when you explained everything to him, there in that café patio an hour ago, coffees long forgotten between you. You hadn’t stopped to think if you should figure things out first, didn’t question the words as they tumbled past your lips, speaking truths that were hard for either of you to understand just yet. Awase had been rightfully baffled, shocked and unsure of your confidence in their matches all marking, after all it had never been heard of.

Part of you suspected he didn’t want to get his hopes up, that he didn’t even want to allow a daydream where maybe he did have a soulmate. If he was anything like you, he knew how disappointing things were when you came down from the high inside your head, when reality smacked you back into place with a reminder of how alone you were.

“I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have told you.” Your voice lifted slightly at the end, like you were unsure yourself if your actions had been right, Awase’s eyes landing on you for a second at a stop sign, his lips pulling into a faint smile as he loosened his grip on the wheel enough to return his knuckles to their usual hue.

“I’m glad you told me, it’s just a lot to take in.” He swallowed harshly, tongue poking out to wet his flushed lips as his head shook slightly from side to side. You shifted in your seat, eyes flickering once to his palm as his hand left the steering wheel to instead scratch at the back of his neck, something you figured was an anxious habit. “I thought I didn’t have a soulmate and now I apparently match two other people’s marks. I’m just confused as to what’s happening, and thrown off, I guess. I’ve never heard of this happening.”

“Neither have I.” Your gaze shifted back out the window as his GPS quietly rattled off which street he needed to go down, the ticking of his blinker sounding loud as you both fell into silence. You weren’t sure what to say to calm the screaming voices in your head, weren’t sure how to make yourself less confused when you had no idea where to start looking for answers. Awase hadn’t been sure either, which had led the both of you into his car, where you typed in Todoroki and Momo’s address into his phone.

You kept picturing the look on Todoroki’s face when he’d interrupted the two of you barely an hour and a half ago, kept swallowing harshly when you remembered the way his voice shook with strain. He didn’t look angry at you for ignoring him, but hurt, like you’d ripped away the last piece of himself he felt like he had ahold of, like you’d left him all alone in the ocean with no life raft to help him stay afloat. You’d been trying to save yourself from the pain in your chest, but in the process had left Todoroki stranded all alone, where nothing could help him from crumbling apart.

You knew the pressure he was under, knew from that night you had together that he’d never been quite this vulnerable before. He was lost and you were supposed to be his constant, his guide through things even when seeing each other was becoming painful. He’d wanted you to be there, wanted you to know he loved you even if he couldn’t do it publically, and you’d left him. In a way you were selfish, because your form of comfort was ignoring him, when his only form of comfort had been you.

He didn’t have anyone to turn to with his problems, didn’t have a Midoriya to listen when he cried about the girl he loved, who most definitely wasn’t his soulmate. He didn’t have a family that would support him and love him regardless of his choices, didn’t have a group to back him up when he needed it. All he had had was you, and you’d all but abandoned him for a week, only for him to finally see you again when you were with another guy.

You partially knew what it could have looked like to him, like you’d been avoiding him because you were trying to move on with someone else, like you’d given up on the love you felt because it could never blossom. You wondered if he thought that of you, if he imagined you seeking out other men as much as you pictured him falling into Momo’s arms when you felt at your lowest.

“We’re here.”

Your head lifted from it’s direction towards your lap, eyes dancing once from Awase to the building waiting just through his window, the huge cherry blossom tree outside too brightly colored for the way your mind was swimming. Every emotion imaginable felt like it was bubbling just beneath the surface, your hands shaking as Awase unlocked the doors and climbed out without an ounce of hesitation. You were envious of how outwardly calm he looked, even if he was probably as anxious as you were.

The short walk across the street and up the front stairs felt like a thousand miles for the way your knees were trying to buckle, your fingers scrunching into your palms as Awase knocked on the painted red, wooden surface. His hands shoved into his jeans then, you noted, his blue flannel shirt blowing out behind his back as a breeze carried the smell of his cologne past your nose, his eyes flickering once over to yours as a quiet ‘just a moment’ came from inside.

Your heart leapt to your throat when the door opened, Momo standing there with her hair pulled into a low ponytail, an apron half tied around her hips and a dot of flour dusted onto her cheek. Her eyes didn’t even glance to you when Awase sucked in a sharp breath of air, like for a moment she didn’t realize he wasn’t alone, her hands wiping delicately onto the front of her apron as a breeze blew a strand of her hair across the front of her neck. Awase fidgeted on the spot, clearing his throat and turning his head slightly to look at you, like he was asking you what to say.

As if you had any clue yourself.

“Momo.” Her head turned towards you quickly but her eyes dragged behind, lingering on Awase’s face until he glanced down at his shoes, hands shuffling, still in the confines of his pockets. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip when your gaze locked with hers, hating the way insecurities started to fester in the back of your mind, wash of guilt nearly knocking you over when you remembered the way Todoroki’s lips had felt on your lips. That guilt only grew when you felt the ring he’d left with you twisting on your twiddling finger, throat clearing once even though your volume didn’t grow. “Can we come inside, please?”

It took her a moment to nod, her eyes blinking a few times as she pulled the door further open and stepped back enough to let you both past. You vaguely heard her introduce herself to Awase as you slipped your shoes off, catching the way he smiled when she stumbled over a stray pair of slippers left by the door. His name rolled off his tongue easily as she shook her head at her own clumsiness, a blush on her cheeks just barely visible from the dim light in the hall.

The place looked the same as when you’d been in it, but also somehow different, now holding furniture and pictures and life. It was a home instead of a house now, the place Todoroki and Momo’s love was supposed to grow into its destiny, even if to yourself it felt like a prison, a manifestation of the things you lacked. The walls were painted a pale grey, the furniture the same navy blue as the lines on their palms, a set of stairs directly down the hall lined with photos from trips they’d taken, scattered with nicnacs and memories you didn’t care to know the stories of.

You loathed how it made you want to vomit, the jealousy creeping through your bones, rattling any of the confidence you had left.

“Where’s Todoroki?”

“He’s upstairs, we were about to make dinner.” Momo stepped past you after a moment, leading the pair of you towards the open concept kitchen, her voice unwavering but her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides as she stepped towards a ball of dough she’d left on the counter. “Why?”

“We need to talk to the both of you.” Awase’s voice rang beside your ear as his palm landed on your lower back, as if he could tell how anxious being there was making you, let alone how confused and frustrated you still felt. Everything felt too big, too surreal to actually be happening, Awase’s free hand still shoved in his pocket like a bomb he was scared to set off.

“About what?” Momo’s nose scrunched slightly as she glanced at the pair of you from where she was lazily forming small dumplings on the counter, tossing them one by one into a pot of boiling water. She licked her lips once as she let her eyes flicker towards your neck, reminding you of the necklace hanging there, the one Todoroki had given you, the one that made her suspicious enough to confront you before.

You pretended not to notice the way it made her nostrils flare as she sucked in a delicate breathe.

“It’s complicated.” You sighed, switching your weight from foot to foot, hand raising to rub at your shoulder aimlessly when you heard the stairs start to creek faintly. It immediately made your heart thud in your chest, body turning on instinct enough to see Todoroki as he came into view, his white socks clashing with the dark floor as he focused on the phone clasped between his fingers.

His hair was wet, a towel draped around his neck as his lips parted, a breathe falling from them, not loud enough for you to hear but it felt like it had knocked the wind out of you. His skin looked incredible, your pulse quickening the closer he got, nerves firing all at once when his head finally lifted and he spotted the three of you. His gaze moved from Momo to Awase before it landed on you, his tired eyes blinking a few times as he abandoned his phone on the breakfast bar.

“Todoroki.” You exhaled his name like his hands were squeezing your lungs, draining every drop of oxygen from your system. You swallowed, feeling a wash of calm for the moment his eyes lingered on your own, hating the feeling that grew in your chest when his eyes fell to Awase, who was still stood beside you with his hand on your lower back. For a moment his eyes flashed with an emotion you didn’t know, his bottom lip tucking beneath his front teeth.

“What are you two doing here?” His voice was vaguely hoarse, the way it sounded when he’d been crying or yelling, and it made your bones ache. It made you want to run over an wrap your arms around him, the pull in your heart like a magnet more powerful than the moon to the shores.

“They need to talk to us.” Momo cleared her throat after she spoke, trying to cover up the small waver in her voice. She tossed the last of the dumplings into the large pot of water before she turned around, hands wiping once again on her apron as her back leaned into the countertop.

“About what?” Todoroki’s eyebrows rose as he pulled the towel from around his neck, figure turning away from you in a way that felt like a subtle pinch to your heart, a bit of guilt for ignoring him spreading up your spine. Maybe it had hurt him like you suspected, maybe it had felt like you were shoving him away when he so desperately had wanted to hold onto you.

“About your soulmarks.” You pressed your lips into a thin line, Awase sucking in a sharp breathe beside you as his head bobbed in a nod, neither of you exactly sure how to bring the subject up subtly. His hand fell away from its place on your back, your teeth grinding together as you watched Momo’s brows furrowed together slightly in confusion, Todoroki’s back still towards you.

It was silent enough for a pin drop to be heard, neither Momo or Todoroki saying anything, as if they were waiting for yourself or Awase to further explain, though neither of you knew how. You looked over at Awase as he shifted his weight, his eyes catching onto yours as you nodded once towards his hand, resting your own flat against the marble island in front of you. There was a rustle from his hand being pulled out if his jean pocket, before he was holding it up like he was waving without any movement, the bold blue lines vibrant with the overhead light beaming down on him.

Momo audibly gasped, her hands raising subconsciously to cover her mouth as she stared, feet quickly padding across the wood floors so she could get a better look. The sound caught Todoroki’s attention as he finally turned, his thin white t-shirt collecting small dark circles from the drips of water coming from his hair, eyes flickering from your face to Awase’s hand twice before staying settled there on his palm. You swallowed hard, ignoring the boulder in your esophagus as your eyes danced between the three of them, wondering what they were all thinking, what they were all feeling.

You’d never seen anyone with your mark before, let alone been in the same room as two people who matched you.

“What’s going on?” Momo sounded out of breath as she hesitantly reached her hand forward to grab ahold of Awase’s as it lowered, his eyes glued to her face as she squinted down at his palm. You watched as she slid a finger over the main line of his mark, noting how she skipped over the small cut he still had healing across the center of the flesh.

“We don’t know.” Awase’s voice was hushed, like if he spoke too loud he’d scare her away, his lips pursing, puckered momentarily outward as he took a peek at you in his peripheral vision. You didn’t notice Todoroki had moved until you felt the warmth of his body closer to your own, his footsteps quiet until he came to rest between you and Momo’s sides. “After you two left the café she saw my hand, and said she’d seen it before.”

“I knew it was yours.” Your eyes shifted up to Todoroki, his own gaze focused on Awase’s palm as Momo held it, her own dark lines brushing against his fingertip before she placed her hands on the counter. You swallowed when Todoroki’s focus shifted over to you, eyes unreadable as his tongue poked out to wet his lips, and you swore for a second he was trying to tell you something with the look on his face, but you didn’t know what, voice shrinking with his proximity. “Both of yours, I mean.”

You’d missed his warmth, missed the heat that radiated from him so naturally when you were next to him, your arm feeling like it was being baked by the sun when his body weight shifted so he was closer to you. His fingers subtly nudged your own where your hands both hung by your thighs, the island blocking them from view, your body temperature spiking when you looked away from his face to instead focus back on Awase and Momo. You tried to keep your reaction neutral as Todoroki’s pinky finger slowly hooked with yours, fingers one by one all clasping into your own until your palms were flush together, heart thumping steadily like he was an anchor keeping you from drifting too far from his shore.

It was amazing how a simple touch from him was enough to have you near bursting at the seems, things seeming to blur in your mind for a moment as all you could focus on was how good it felt to be touching him. When your grip on him tightened he squeezed right back, your cheek burning where he was staring at you until Awase spoke up.

“I don’t understand how this can be happening.” He scratched at the back of his neck for a moment, bodyweight leaning into the counter before him as his teeth dug into his plump bottom lip. “It’s impossible for three people to be soulmates, right?”

“Right.” Todoroki’s head bobbed once slightly, his voice soft as he brushed his thumb along your own, chest rising and falling steadily as he glanced between Awase and Momo. Momo was staring at Awase for a beat, her eyebrows bunched together as she absentmindedly picked at the nail polish half chipped off her fingers. “None of this makes any sense.”

There was a lull in the conversation as the three of them all glanced between each other like one of them would suddenly have an answer, your face turning back up to look at Todoroki while he thought, admiring the way his skin looked when the light caught onto it. He looked incredibly tired, stressed, like the shower he’d taken had done little to relax the voices screaming in his eardrums, like he was desperate to shut the world away for a while and just breathe on his own. You moved closer to him without thinking, feeling Momo glancing at you but swallowing down the small amount of guilt it caused, resting your freehand on the countertop.

“Let me see your hands.”

For a moment, you’d thought Momo was talking to you and Todoroki, your eyes flickering down to your connected palms before Awase held out his own. Todorokis grip on you vanished as he lifted his hand up, both of the boys palms facing the ceiling as Momo placed her own between them, your chest aching in a way that made it hard to ignore. Your eyes burned but you blinked away the stinging in them, leaning forward slightly as Momo had to look over the blue lines that stained their skin.

“I read about something, a couple months ago.” Momo sounded half focused on what she was saying, her finger skimming along Awase’s hand before it moved to brush along Todoroki’s, a small pang of jealousy itching at the back of your throat. You ignored it best you could when she looked quickly over at you with a bob of her head. “It was right after Todoroki’s birthday, when he decided to stay at your place rather than go to dinner with me and his parents.”

She paused for a moment as you folded your arms across your stomach, her voice not full of malice or anger but rather a hint of sadness, of a pain you didn’t think you could really grasp. Because while you were longing after Todoroki for months, she had been watching him crave someone else for the entirety of time she knew him. Even if he’d never said it to her, and even if he tried his hardest to never let it show, she knew that while he cared about her, it wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.

Maybe Todoroki loved her, yes, but not in the way she wanted.

Not in the way soulmates were supposed to love each other.

“I was up one night, reading these articles online, in this poor state of mind, and I came across this article. These parents illegally had their child’s mark covered at some underground tattoo place, having it match another family’s child so they’d think they were soulmates. It was almost like some awful form of an arranged marriage. The kids only figured it out when they were older and one of them found a baby picture from before they covered his mark.” She trailed off, her eyes flickering between Todoroki’s palm and Awase’s, your mind reeling as the pieces in your mind seemed to slowly be clicking into place.

“I didn’t think it could have happened, because neither of us had ever met someone else with our marks before.” Momo looked over at Todoroki as his focus turned towards her, her eyes a bit red as she blinked a few times and smiled faintly at him. She looked as tired as Todoroki did, like she’d been fighting a losing battle for a long time and was finally ready to give up. “I knew neither of us felt right, that neither of us thought things were how they were supposed to be. You’d felt something for someone else, and I…”

Her voice trailed off as she took a glance at Awase, who was staring at her with such a strong gaze it made her cheeks flush with pink.

“I saw you once,” She said to him, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as his head bobbed in a nod, like he remembered it too. Your eyebrows bunched together as another punch of confusion ghosted over your features. Todoroki’s hand left the counter to once again clasp down into your own, grip tighter than before. “at a train station. It was crowded and we bumped into each other, you had on gloves and I didn’t see your hands but I felt…something when I saw your face.”

“I felt it too.” Awase interjected, his eyes flickering down to the counter as his fingers bent to form a loose fist, his lids dropping shut as he sighed heavily. “I tried to look for you but when I did you were with a guy and too far gone. I figured it was just my imagination and I let it go.”

“It’s why I asked our parents for baby pictures a few months ago, I was thinking maybe I could find some proof that we weren’t supposed to be together.” Momo said, forcing herself to look away from him and instead focusing back on Todoroki, who you were sure also noticed the way both Awase and Momo’s cheeks were flushed with pink hues of warmth. “I didn’t find anything in mine, though.”

The silence that fell was heavy as Todoroki and Momo shared a look that felt too intimate for yourself and Awase to be watching, like you were witnessing a couple splitting apart, and perhaps you were. Maybe the both of them had felt it for a long time, that something was wrong with their supposedly destined relationship. Neither of them had brought it up, but both could tell that the other wasn’t happy, that they were forcing things when they shouldn’t have to. Momo shouldn’t have had to fight to have time with Todoroki when he was supposed to always want to be with her. Todoroki shouldn’t have felt so alone when Momo was right there, shouldn’t have never felt understood when she’d brush off his complaints like mere feathers on her shoulders.

Neither of them was right for the other, but they both cared enough to keep quiet, because they thought it was what they were supposed to do.

“Did you check mine too?” Todoroki spoke up, his head shaking slightly as a drip of water from his hair skimmed his cheekbone when it fell.

“Every single one.” Momo sighed as she pushed her hand through her hair, slipping her elastic onto her wrist as the strands hung loosely behind her neck, framing her cheeks like she was a beautiful painting. “I found nothing. I’m not really sure where to look for answers. It could have been either of our families, hell it might not have even been them. This could all be something else.”

“It’s not something else.” Todoroki’s voice grew harder, eyes floating shut as his jaw clenched down tight, all the air leaving his lungs as he shook his head. His grip on you grew more firm as his nostrils flared, your free hand raising to gingerly brush his shoulder when his eyes snapped back open. “It was my parents. I know it was, I’m positive.”

“Todoroki.” Your tone was timid compared to his own, body moving closer to his when his face turned towards you, his eyes burning red and full of irritation, tears starting to build in his waterline. You’d never seen him look more furious, more heartbroken, his hand leaving yours as he scrubbed at his eyes and immediately turned to go outside, the door slamming behind him and a silence enveloping the three of you still standing around the marble island.

You swallowed, staring at the door where his figure had just been, body aching to be following his, that pull in your chest stronger than ever knowing how upset he was. You couldn’t blame him for feeling so angry, for being so broken that he just wanted to fall apart where no one could see him. You knew pain, you knew the hurt that spread through your bones when you realized you didn’t have a soulmate. You were familiar with the hollow that made a home in you with the thoughts and voices constantly in your head, the never-ending reminders of your loneliness and heartache.

But you didn’t know how Todoroki felt.

His own parents had betrayed him, had set him up for a life where he’d never really get to be happy, not how he was supposed to. They lied to their son for their entire lives thus far, all so he’d marry someone he was never really supposed to love in the first place, and in the fallout from their actions they had crushed him. They had made Todoroki so full of guilt and longing that the weight of the world was piled up onto his shoulders. They made him loathe himself for not loving Momo the way he was supposed to, made him long after someone that maybe he could have had all along had they not sabotaged him out of selfishness.

Your body carried you out the door before you over thought things, not bothering to put your shoes back on as your feet made contact with the cold concrete of the front steps. You paused there while the door shut, watching Todoroki’s back as it rose and fell slowly from where he was sat on the curb, a car passing by making some of the fallen flower petals bustle past his figure. His shirt looked brighter from the way the streetlamps were hitting him, the sky turned a dark blue as night began to take over.

He was mute when you sank down into the spot beside him, your thighs pressed against each others as you rested your hands on your knees, staring up at the sky as he sniffled beside you. He didn’t move for a minute or so until he shifted enough to lift his head, eyes falling onto you when you turned enough to stare back at him. You were itching to touch him when you noticed the wet trail down his cheek, heart feeling like it was being hammered into bits and pieces as he leaned in and rested his forehead against your shoulder, his lips parted as he sucked in a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry, Todoroki.” Your voice was a whisper as he slid his arms slowly around your middle, pulling your body closer to his own as his head fell to instead press into the crook of your neck, his nose nudging the side of your throat while his fingers dug into your back. Your cheek pressed into the top of his head as your fluttered your lids closed, letting him melt his body weight into you, savoring the warmth of his chest as the wind blew. “I’m so sorry.”

“I just can’t believe they’d do this to me. I know that we don’t always agree on things, but how could they just let me be so fucking miserable and pretend that it was all in my head.” His voice shook as it muffled against your collarbone, the reverberations making subtle goosebumps raise on the back of your neck. “What kind of person does that to someone they’re supposed to love?”

“Maybe it wasn’t them, Todoroki. We don’t know if that’s what really ha-”

“It was them.” He cut you off with a slight shake from his head, his shoulders raising as he pulled back enough to stare at you. His hair was a mess, now half air dried and sticking at odd angles, lips puffy from how much he kept licking and biting at them, eyes still stained with redness. “I know it was them. They always wanted a certain life for me, and they decided that was most important. They decided money and power and image were more important than their son’s fucking happiness.”

Your hand reached back behind you so you could grab onto his own, pulling it forward and clasping your palm so it was flush against his, hiding his blue lines from his view. He pressed his lips into a line as you lifted your other hand to brush the hairs away from his eyes. He leaned into your touch, eyes falling shut as his cheek pressed against the warmth of your fingers, like he was making sure you weren’t a daydream. It was hard for you to believe yourself that he was real, with the streetlamp casting a halo silhouette around his mess of white and red hair, eyes shining even in the dark, swimming with all the emotions that had started to pour from his soul.

“You should talk to them, confront them about it.”

“I will, but not tonight. I can’t tonight.” Todoroki blinked twice before letting his hand slip away from your own, reaching up to scrub at his exhausted eyes as you let your palm slip to rest against his chest, feeling his heartbeat as it hammered away. He leaned forward enough to press his lips to your forehead, muttering against the skin as your touch drifted from his cheek to instead plant on the crook of his neck. “I just need some time to process everything.”

You nodded as he languidly untangled himself from you completely, hands grabbing onto your own as he helped you stand, immediately slipping his arms back around your middle to hug you to his chest as he took a deep breathe, the smell of his cologne like you were being welcomed home after too much time away. Your arms looped easily around his hips, pressing your bodies so they were cemented together as he pressed a chaste kiss to your shoulder, savoring in the feeling of having you so close for a moment.

He felt like he was broken.

But you were broken too.

“It’s almost ironic. This is like some awful version of what I always wanted.”

You leaned back to look at him when he spoke, his tongue poking out to wet his lips as his fingers started to toy with the ends of your hair, careful not to tug too hard. Your eyebrows rose slightly, as if you were asking him to go on, lips parted as you took a gentle breathe when the wind blew chills onto your bare legs.

“I used to always hope that somehow I wouldn’t be her soulmate, that I’d have at least a shot at being with you, properly.” He mumbled, your heart thudding at the quiet confession as his lips spread into a half smile, one laced with heartache and framed with disappointment for the way the world had granted his wish. “I always pictured myself just waking up with your mark, not something like this. I guess I just never imagined it would be because of my parents being more selfish than loving.”

“It might not have been them, Todoroki.”

He shook his head at your optimism, his lips pressing once more into your forehead as he let his touch leave your body, except for his hand that tangled back into yours. He picked up your free one, kissing the middle of your palm and moving you slightly so your soulmark was in the light, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, like he was trying to force a lump down his esophagus, one that was making it hard for him to breathe. He was silent for a moment as he held you there and stared, taking in the gold as your fingers flexed slightly in an attempt to free your hand, not liking to look at it for so long. Even with things unraveling around you, you didn’t like to look your mark, like it was a reminder of all the torment soulmates had caused you, all the longing that left scars on your heart.

“I wonder if mine looks like this, underneath the tattoo.” He muttered, mostly to himself, his eyes dancing over to you once before he was focusing back on your palm, finger tracing a line right down the strip of pigment on your skin. The image made your lungs shrink as you tried not to get your hopes up too high, the grip you had on his hand tightening when your eyes burned at the thoughts that started to rush to your head, dark ones that were used to broken hopes.

“What if it doesn’t?”

His eyes turned back towards you, lips parting, like he was surprised by your question. You couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what would happen now. Sure, in your heart you wanted it to be Todoroki, you wanted the person you matched to be him more than anything you’d ever longed for in your entire life. You wanted that tattoo on his palm to get removed and you wanted to find a strip of gold waiting there for you all along. But you had gotten used to the disappointment, familiar with the let downs when your dreams came crashing back to earth, leaving you broken and unable to really fit the pieces back together.

“It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t.”

He sounded firm, confident as he let your palm go and opted to cup your cheek instead, a car driving by that casted bright lights on him for a moment. He took a deep breath, leaning forward and letting his eyes drop shut as his lips ghosted over your own before he kissed you fully. It wasn’t full of dramatic passion, wasn’t laced with the longing you’d both felt for so long, wasn’t desperate and needy like you were scared you’d never get to taste him again. It was gentle, soft, quiet like the world around you had melted away and all that was left was the simultaneous beatings of your hearts when he pulled back so your noses were brushing, voice barely audible as he whispered.

“I’m yours, no matter what.”

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#todoroki #todoroki shouto #shouto #shouto todoroki #todoroki x reader #todoroki angst #todoroki smut #todoroki fluff #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #milk and tea fic

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ephemerlskies · 4 years ago

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constant craving 04 (final) | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

⇢ genre: “drabble” series, best friends to lovers au, slight angst, FLUFF, bestfriend!au, unrequited love, smarter idiots but still idiots all the same

⇢ word count: 6.8k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, excessive drinking (drink responsibly), pining, jungkook is an overdramatic baby, a surplus of feelings (i am disgusted with myself), one (1) fire hazard

⇢ summary: with the Friendiversary approaching quickly, both you and Jungkook have an array of trials to navigate through. and, as Seokjin gets caught in the crossfires, you must finally make a decision that will define how the rest of your life will unfold.

♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

a/n: wow.... so bitches really call this a drabble series then write a 6 thousand word finale... its me im bitches... anywho, i really love the way this played out!! jungkook had to hit the bottom to start rising to the top and it shows. also, the ending is like....... hehe well ill just let you all see for yourselves. enjoy my lovely readers! this wrapped up such a heartfelt series that is so dear to my heart. thank you all for the support for this! and i might whip up a few drabbles simply because i think this relationship is really cute hehe ok... happy reading! <3

part four: i love you too

Carrying that music box in his pocket felt like a well-deserved and all too grim reminder of what went down a few days ago. Sitting drunk yet again, though one would best describe Jungkook’s posture as more of a sloven pile of flesh and bones withering away on a bar stool, he searched for the wallet which was in one of his four pockets.

He reached for the wrong one. Instead of the faux leather skimming his skin, it was a solid wood corner pricking the pad of his index finger. It stung more than it should have. Perhaps he'd gotten a splinter, or the top layer of his skin was simply too raw from all the wear and tear of your fight. Jungkook wasn’t one to jump at such negligible shocks, but it sank him back into that night. It wasn't the wooden corner at all.

You loved him. You still love him.

That's what you said. That's what nearly put him on the floor instead of in his chair, and what had been preying on his mind as if he were no different than a helpless animal drowning his regrets in whiskey. And he knew he should have said it back.

Jungkook theorized ways to defy the cruel restraints of time, and if the universe would be so kind as to allow him to travel back to that day in middle school when he happened upon a scared, flush-faced student running so fast and panicked that they bumped into each other, just to be the one who said 'I love you' first. Or those genies and shooting stars and blessed fountains that supposedly granted wishes; he would pay no hesitation to plead with whatever deity would listen and permit his most prioritized desire.

The retrospective bargaining remained a ghost haunting just about every waking moment of his life. Though, he had not been quite sure if said ghost was some cosmic sent presence or simply his own guilt. If regret took on physical ramifications, then Jungkook would have been convinced that was why he felt as if his legs wouldn't have been able to carry him even if he tried.

If I could just go back to that night with the knowledge I know now, I would have hauled my ass to your house instead of that club and told you that my choice was made for me the moment I met you. Every other person I ended up with these past twelve years was simply a buffer for loving you. I had to prepare myself, because loving you was something entirely too tremendous for a boy still grappling with his own faulty speech pattern to assume.

I wish you knew that. I wish I didn’t stand there like an idiot and let you leave, thinking me some hero for finally letting this new guy Seokjin take the place I had always imagined being in. I wish I had just said that I love you.

I love you.

I love you, ___.

Jungkook’s vision resembled that of a smudged lens. However, there were no fingerprints on his eyes. The world had turned blurry and colorless, the latter he knew was not due to the sixth order of whiskey he let soak into his heart’s open wound.

A life of color was one of the many things that left when you did.

He didn’t know it then, but Jungkook was being fervently dramatic since it had not been more than seventy-two hours the last time he spoke to you. Thought to him, it was akin to being just short of death and taking another breath would have been an expense he wasn’t sufficiently funded to pay.

Whatever happened in the interim of him paying his tab and walking out onto the sidewalk must have landed somewhere in the blacked out stretches of his inebriated memory, since he was now staring at your contact gleaming on his phone bearing the semblance of one guardian angel.

It was so ingrained into his routine. Opening the app with the phone icon, clicking the ‘recent’ tab, and finding your name no further than three contacts down the list because he called you as if he had important things to tell you, though normally it was just to hear your voice or to tell you about what he had for lunch. And it nestled into his muscle memory as natural as it was for him to breathe or blink. Even when alcohol debilitated his driving, walking, and thinking, his body was drawn to seek a haven such as yourself. And he nearly pressed ‘call’.

Before the comfort of your voice could ring through to his phone, reality descended upon that reflex. Right now, you were probably with Seokjin, attending some pretentious art gallery for one of his colleagues.

It was just Jungkook and the night sky and the moon that he hoped you were gazing at too; it would be the only connection to you as of now. The moon, a parcel for the most longing gazes.

There are stories where the two protagonists get it right. This was not that story. That reality stung more than the residual burn of whiskey clinging along his throat.

Both you and Jungkook made every wrong decision possible. From the moment you subjected yourself to exploiting the veneer of being a ‘good friend’ to disguise any true feelings that might have taken light, to the moment Jungkook was presented with all the excruciatingly obvious signs that you were in love with him, but was simply too inept to notice, to the both of you neglecting any urge threatening the bounds of platonic. Any path that would have steered to a destination where you two would get that happy ending was conveniently untaken.

And you had a long journey riddled with heartbreak after heartbreak to prove it.

He traded his phone with that wooden music box, scuffing the soles of his shoe as he walked back home, hoping he’d be able to give the gift to you on your Friendiversary.

-----

Your pain was still raw. In this way, you had not considered, or rather avoided the idea of tending to such delicate wounds. The days leading up to the infamous anniversary had been spent hoping you would organically heal enough to allow the presence of Jungkook while denying another reopening in your wound.

You had been juggling a not so thrilling number of conflicts the three days preceding that self-acclaimed national holiday.

One, Seokjin and his bottomless supply of invitations that you felt too obligated to refuse. He had such a life packed with plans which is more than you could have said for Jungkook. He, most likely, busied himself with promoting ranks in some obscenely violent video game. Two, a mutual friend of yours had told you Seokjin was fixing to make your relationship official this coming Friday, and you didn’t want to admit the lackluster reaction upon hearing the news was equivalent to receiving a C on a test. It wasn't the worst grade to receive, but you knew there would always be something better than adequacy. Not satisfying enough nor disappointing enough to be dealt with without bending a few expectations. And three, all you really wanted, the only agent of excitability (both good and bad) that diluted the festering numbness in your heart just a tad more, was thinking about seeing Jungkook on your Friendiversary.

But with that excitement, was its equally worrying constituent: whether or not you would be able see Jungkook that day without cracking under pressure.

Things weren’t exactly attuned between the two of you. Your emotional stature had never been more unsynchronized and offkey with Jungkook’s, so, forcing a celebratory movie or dinner would be no different than adding cornstarch to the already thick tension.

“___? Are you listening?” Everything Seokjin had just been droning on about filtered in and out without a single word being absorbed, and you could have pretended this wasn't the case but stress had apprehended caring enough to lie.

“Sorry… No, I wasn't. I’m just stressed is all.” Since that was only a half lie, self-admonition had not yet taken permanent residency whenever you would look at Seokjin’s eyes offering nothing but genuine tact.

“Oh, sorry to hear! Are you okay? Anything you wanna talk about?” That, and the soft press of his hand over yours had swallowed you into a perpetual, guilty cycle of comparing two incomparable people.

Seokjin was always like this. Serving a gentle smile and honest ears as a vessel of calmness during whatever calamity you were grappling. It was safe knowing if you fell, you’d have a comfortable cushion to soften the impact. He was mindful with his words and had the intelligence to articulate them with impressive eloquence. You were more likely to see pigs fly than to see him stutter. He had a diverse group of friends and walked a steady path to a financially secure life. And you started to wonder what else one would need in a partner? Any sensible person would do much more than you had to snag someone like Seokjin, as handsome as he was kind and respectful. He seemed to have everything Jungkook lacked, including mutual feelings for you.

It would have been entirely too easy to pick him, as if there was a ‘Seokjin’ button and a ‘Jungkook’ button and you could press Seokjin’s on a whim. If choosing him would have meant miraculous nullification of all your very real and very unremitting feelings for that idiot you called your best friend, then you would have done it in a heartbeat.

There wasn't a 'Seokjin' button or a 'Jungkook' button, nor was there a button that would wondrously redistribute your feelings towards Seokjin.

And then there was Jungkook. Always in the back of your mind when he wasn't tenanting the focus of it.

He was never predictable in the ways that mattered. It was just as difficult figuring out his next move as figuring out whether this trait was exciting or exhausting.

Though, this had not been to say you didn’t know him well; in fact, all his habits and preferences and pet peeves could be bound into a book, written by you, and it would be so accurate anyone who read it would think it was an autobiography. He knew you to the same caliber. Where Seokjin would ask what was wrong, Jungkook wouldn’t need to. He already learned your behavior to know to say something along the lines of ‘tell me what’s wrong when you're ready, we can watch your favorite movie or swing by that Chinese place with those great fried dumplings in the meantime’. And on more favorable occasions, he'd say nothing and simply wrap you in his arms and let his shirt become a delta for your tears.

To anyone else, that might sound entirely too frank and perhaps a bit dismissive to be comforting, but to you it was the exact cure for each affliction. To never need explanations that would validate your feelings because Jungkook saw to that right when he took notice; to never manufacture fake smiles through failed attempts at cheering you up since, of course, he knew exactly what to do to vegetate joy in your heart and earn a smile from years and years —and years— of practice. It had almost driven you mad, thinking about how he knew from a shift in your brow what you were feeling and yet, somehow, never realized how deeply in love you were.

All the while, the moment you were convinced you had been versed fluently in his every move, he would pawn another blindsight that would leave you breathless and amazed all the same. Jungkook always had concealed tricks up his sleeve, and life was anything but repetitive with him. You would more often than not find yourself struggling to relearn language and existing itself just to keep up with him. How exactly he managed to wield such diametric facets of being was an enigma beyond the reasoning of this universe.To feel like home, somewhere you belonged outside of your own body, and a daring voyage into a completely new world all at once must have meant he was some sort of Godsend. Only angels could have sculpted a soul so magnetizing, you assumed.

Seokjin was an umbrella, shielding you on some arcane journey under an unforgiving rainfall. Your shoes kept dry and your hair intact.

And if he was the umbrella, then Jungkook was the rain. Falling everywhere and all at once, so that you couldn't help but let yourself be saturated in his entire, vibrant being. And who’s to say letting such a water fall against your skin was a bad thing? Sometimes rain is cleaning, gentle even. They bear fruits as beautiful as rainbows that guide you to an unnamed treasure.

Your treasure, however, had a name.

Jungkook calling.

"___? Hello? You in there?" Seokjin waved his hand in front of your face mostly in a jesting manner, but part of him felt like your eyes were blinded by something held in your heart. If he hadn’t pulled you back into reality, you might have been lost forever.

“I'm just…” Your attention had abandoned this conversation the second his name gave light to your screen. “Sorry, um…”

“It's okay, you can take the call. I’ll be in the kitchen making us some coffee.”

If you were to thank him profusely, it would have been far too obvious how much you missed seeing his name among your notifications, and most likely expose how often you spent thinking of Jungkook while you were supposed to be enthralled with Seokjin. So, you just nodded and answered the phone.

Nodding and answering, as though that didn't feel like taking a breath of clean air after hours of swimming through muddied waters.

“Hello? ___?”

“Jungkook.” It took you longer than usual to form a response and what was assembled had been a half-baked utterance just to let him know you were on the other side of the phone, hearing his voice and feeling a surge of energy course through your veins like he was some delicious narcotic filling life into you after only a week without him.

“___.” Jungkook was in his own debt of words as well. The exchange halted for a few seconds, a jaded breathing cutting the cracked static.

“Look-”

“Hey so-”

Any hope that you had finally caught up to the same page as Jungkook was lost. Now, it seemed you two were reading entirely different books.

“You go.” You said after another dreadful pause. He was the one who called, so he should be the one carrying the burden of navigating through this deafening tension.

“Well, I- uh… I… Well, you see I was just, um, wondering…” Jungkook’s heart must have shut off. That would explain why even the most rudimentary of words felt closer to a foreign language. Or, why he was making conscious efforts to counteract the threat of his nearly dormant lisp.

His brain was drained dry of any blood, his inner mechanisms were shutting down. Even without the alcoholic filter catching words and common sense in its web, Jungkook felt himself fall into an overactive state of dumbfoundedness. Sobriety only a cataract for his emotional override.

“Our friendiversary?”

“I’m sorry, I did not understand literally anything you just said.”

“Me neither.”

The charming and familiar laugh that spilled through the speaker reminded you that Jungkook was in fact a real person. Not some figmented embodiment of every lost and unrequited and tortuous feeling you had been suppressing for twelve years. Jungkook was real, his laugh and everything else you loved about him were all so incredibly real. And more importantly, the pure joy you felt was real; a permanent serialization of his. Your smiles and his smiles had always surfaced in tandem.

Now, you both were laughing. Neither were warranted by his messy attempt at forming a coherent sentence. The weight of discomfort shedding from your shoulders had been partnered with a slew of relieved chuckles.

“Anyway, um. I- I still wanna see you on our Friendiversary. Or, at least give you your gift.” Admitting that was terrifying but the thought of breaking the consecutive streak of eleven years simply because he was too much of a coward to admit he wanted to see you dizzied him. However, the thought of spending your friendiversary alone terrified him beyond comprehension. So, he thought not about that as a possibility; he carved an opening to his heart in hope you wouldn’t send sharp thorns of rejection into it.

“Yeah, I, uh. I still wanna see you too. I mean, it is a national holiday. We gotta have holiday spirit, right?” You were forcing playful banter, it felt like lemon juice scouring cuts on your tongue, but you were so desperate to make things between you two feel normal.

“You’re right! So, um… You can come over tomorrow night. I’ll set up a surprise or whatever.” He seemed to have fallen back into stride with pre-confession Jungkook. Trying to keep up with him now would just exhaust you of all your means, so you chose to save the rest for tomorrow night. Even if that meant watching him walk away to some unforeseeable finish line; his back, the last part of him you’d see until you could finally collect your broken pieces and start walking as well.

“Sounds good! I’ll, um, see you then.”

“See you, ___.”

You had no idea, and how could you, that Jungkook was now wiping small clusters of wetness from the bed of his eyelids. Why he thought you, the one person that remained a constant in his life, would say no to him over one fight (of many) made for quite the spill of tears. But if you did know, you would have told him you felt like crying too.

"Hey! How did everything go?" You were so immersed in your virtual conversation with Jungkook you nearly forgot the person you were presently with. The train of guilt wouldn't stop for your pathetic attempts at disembarking.

"Oh! Thanks for the coffee." You sipped, and it had just been a stall to blink away the tears that were straying beyond your will of concealment. "It went good. We're still celebrating our Friendiversary."

"Friendiversary?" Seokjin's light chuckle veiled his tense concern.

"Yeah... Uh, it's just this thing we do to celebrate our friendship. The day we met."

"Oh... that's..." His eyes were scaling the rim of his mug.

"That's what, Seokjin?" You were stern, knowing well enough it was born of far more than platonic defensiveness. And you had no right to be the one prosecuting him since you clearly had more to hide than meets the eye.

"I mean, it's just interesting how dedicated you are to an anniversary with a friend." Seokjin wielded that soft-spoken voice which made it difficult to be anything but patient with him. And from the tone of it, he seemed to have no ill intentions with that statement, though it had not been an entirely innocent observation. To you, however, it felt like he might as well have set you on fire.

"Interesting? What is that supposed to even mean? I mean, we've been friends for twelve years. I- I don't know why people are always so judgmental." Your arms crossed over your chest, hoping he would take notice how much his comment slighted you. If asked, you would have insisted you would have been this worked up over any of your friends. Though you knew well enough this was untrue, and it made you feel even worse acting as though Seokjin was the one at fault here.

"I'm sorry. I'm not judging you, really. I just... I just have never heard of two friends doing something like that so religiously."

You sighed out all your anger, knowing the way you snapped at him was merely misdirected frustration. "No, I'm sorry. I know it's kinda weird."

"Look, I get it. You guys are close. But, ___, you talk about him so much that half, no, over half of your stories include him. We've been dating for, what, barely a week now, and I know more about this Jungkook guy than I know about you, and I haven't even met him."

Lips parted, ready to dispatch another slew of defenses to refute all the things he said. It was more disappointing than it was shocking to find nothing but a long sigh emerging. Because he was right. Jungkook has been interwoven so thoroughly in your last twelve years that if you only told the stories without him in it, then it would be the least accurate and nondescript retelling of your life. Fragments of an unfinished novel. It would miss the most crucial pieces, entire chapters, of your story.

You would have been presenting a shell of you, hollow and one dimensional. All the inner parts of you, the lungs and veins and tissue that gave you life and made you whole belonged solely with Jungkook.

That's why you sat there, blank faced, foolishly waiting for the words that wouldn't come to your aid because you had no place to contend with him.

"Seokjin... I'm with you..." It's all that would come up your throat, and it felt like acid. You were sure it burned his ears when he heard them more than it had your throat.

It hadn’t even been partially true. Physically you were with him, but in your head you were sitting on your couch with Jungkook, consuming a concerning amount of junk food while chatting through a movie used more as background noise than entertainment.

"Okay. Does that mean you don't have feelings for him?"

"Well..."

"Can you confidently say you could replace all the time you spend with him with time you would spend with me?" Seokjin must have noticed your returning tears because he loosened his verbal grip from your throat. To you, it sounded like he was pacifying you for some horrible sin, to anyone else it sounded as though he was simply trying to dredge up feelings that would disrupt the chance of a relationship between you and him. "___, I like you. I really do, but in all honesty, I'm looking for something serious. I think we would be great together, but only if you don't have any feelings left for him."

"Seokjin..." You regretted looking at him.

Sweetness was strewn in his eyes and gentle smile. Seokjin was softer than cotton, which made the real threat, the rough sandpaper wearing away skin and bones, you. It made it all the more painful to know you had been keeping everything you felt for Jungkook hidden from Seokjin. Though, if one would have presented an objective point of view, your feelings were far from secretive. And the most brutal honesty was that you knew feelings for Seokjin were never in your attainability. Not the way they always had been for Jungkook.

He was the wrong person who crossed paths with you at the right moment. A mere convenience. And you knew he deserved much more than what you had to offer.

"And maybe I'm being an idiot, but I like you too much to give you some ultimatum which would put you in such an unfair position. So, I'll let you think this over." His compassion felt more like a sharp blow to your chest. “No pressure.”

If he hadn’t smiled like he did, then you would have broken up with him right then and there. It was not possible to rip away such tender hope away from a smile so sweet.

"I'm sorry." You meant the remorse behind those words and it still hadn’t amounted to a proper consolation. "I'm sorry. I guess... I guess I'll go... Seokjin?”

“Yes?” He replied quickly, and you knew only a pace that rapid was one brought on by a sliver of faith that you might have made your decision right then.

“You’re a really great person. You deserve the world.”

Unfortunately, you couldn’t give him what he wanted. And as bitter and unkind as that might have felt at the moment, it was the only bit of truth and relent you could have offered him.

-----

In your bed, sleep became somewhat of an abstract desire. You knew your rest was deprived from you when the digital clock on your bedside told you it was six hours past the time you'd normally fall asleep. It was because you really did have a choice to make now.

To choose Seokjin, and know you'd collapse in the safety of his reciprocated affection, though haunted by how you would never feel the fullest extent of content. And you would live with that until resentment and distance wedged irreversible damage in your relationship.

Or, to choose Jungkook, which would catapult you into a depth so dark and tenuous that you would have no idea whether you'd meet gentle snow or hard, deadly concrete when you landed. And maybe you'd never land at all; maybe you would be caught in a state of falling down and down forever, until your beating heart eventually stilled.

Which one was worth it? Which were you willing to risk? These were the questions that kept you awake.

The hours leading to your undisclosed celebration events with Jungkook ceased being actual points of your existence and merely obstructions that you had to plow through in order to arrive at some conclusive moment. Something that might give you an answer to all your questions. Something that might have released you from devotedly checking your phone for a Jungkook patented text or call.

You were turning into a half-being. Someone who could only inhale a full breath, laugh an intentional laugh, and sleep a soundless sleep when their other half was there.

If you thought being in love with Jungkook for your entire friendship was pathetic, then you couldn’t fathom what you had become now.

Standing in front of his door, the same one you lugged him to that night he was too drunk to balance on his feet, when you willingly carried all the weight he couldn’t, when your lips became acquainted and comfortable with his within half a beat, you felt as if this chunk of wood was mocking you. A partition barricading you from Jungkook. Your Jungkook. The man you always felt you were on the outskirts of, with only a window to peer into his unreadable mind. And that was enough for you ―until now.

Now you were going to knock on that door with your hand, make him open it for you, and walk into his home. You would be the one to step foot inside of the very structure that only solicited closed doors and immovable walls and fogged windows. And you would leave behind your timidity, every feeling and urge that left you with disappointing compromises for the sake of maintaining this friendship.

You would be selfish, and he would finally feel a mere glimpse of what you have always felt for the best and worst of your life.

Even when he opened the door, arming a smile that actively disarmed you, this home of his was yours to conquer. This was your time to act for you alone, despite how many smiles he sent your way. You had not any weapons or shields or an infantry for a clutch. You just had your heart and all the love it carried.

“Hey! ___, you look… You look great.” There was no real incentive for him to censor how he truly thought you looked. Immeasurably beautiful. It was simply his own nerves impeding on the feelings that were too intense to express without it being followed by an entire soliloquy of I love you’s.

“Thanks... You too...” You could almost feel the words brimming in your and Jungkook’s mouth, carrying such raw emotions and longing intentions.

"I'm really glad that- Jungkook..." Walking into his house punctuated what you were about to say.

His living room was strewn with enough candles to steal the last of your words and to consider his house a fire hazard. That didn't negate this lovely sea of lights to be anything but romantic and thoughtful. A bit cluttered, and not at all perfect, but it must have taken Jungkook hours to set up every wax column. The thoughtfulness of this gesture would have astonished you had it not been for the consistency of Jungkook snatching your breath and words away whenever he tried. It was antithetical, the way you expected his surprises. Yet, always surprised all the same.

Unpredictable, completely surrounding you just like the rain.

"I had to turn off my fire detector but... Worth it." Jungkook considered the number of mishaps that could have dampened any chance of this being romantic.

A candle could tip over and set his entire place ablaze, the wax could leak onto his carpet and tabletops, damaging his furniture and savings for replacements, you and he could have suffocated from all the fumes steaming from the wick. But if that look on your face didn't feel like the only bit of revival to keep his heart's steady beating, if your eyes didn’t look as though it was the only set of eyes that shed beauty into this world then he wouldn't have used up exactly three lighters to pull this stunt. But it did, and he felt warmth and color return to every inch of his body.

He would have used hundreds of lighters to ignite thousands of candles if that meant an ounce of happiness from you. He wanted to say that, but he knew the candles said it for him.

The spectacle almost made you forget why you were here in the first place. It almost made you forget the resolve you managed to gather before entering. And then he said your name.

"___."

The letters flowing from his lips as if they could only be pronounced by his tongue. It sounded so good. So good, that if anyone else were to say it then it wouldn't have been your name at all. It would have sounded wrong, sullied. And it wasn't supplied by neat articulation, this new belonging of your name in his mouth. The need for him to sculpt your name into this world was more than that. "I will never forgive myself if I don't get this out while I still can."

"Jungkook, what is all this?" You didn't know why you felt a collection of tears brimming along your eyes, but you didn't care to figure it out. Perhaps you felt an influx of feelings, an abundance too heavy for your body to seal within the confines of your emotional seams, so they overflowed in the form of tears. This certainly had not been the first time you cried over Jungkook, but you had never cried over him like this.

"___, I love you!" Jungkook said loudly. It was just you and him who could hear, but it felt as though he wanted the entire world to know.

"What? I- You- What?" Your lack of verbal poise was indicative of your love for him once again taking the reins of your mind and heart. Words were a luxury you couldn't afford as of now. You just had to feel everything you were feeling until the rainstorm settled. The hope that he would spare you some remnants of fluency was far along, and you weren't too sure if what Jungkook was about to say would be gentle enough to leave you with any words at all.

"I love you. I don't know why I didn't know it sooner. Or maybe, I- Maybe I did know?" Jungkook sighed at his own ineloquence. "I'm stupid! That's it. That's my only excuse. I'm so stupid. The way I felt about you, the way I still feel about you, is something I thought all best friends had. I thought everyone felt like the moments they weren't spending with their best friends just felt like filler moments. Like, every day I spent without you was just a span of time I had to wait out until I see you again. Like every damn moment of my life is spent waiting for you. And if I don't end up with you then... then I'll never stop waiting."

"Jungkook, I-" He prevailed in surprising you, taking words and breath and thoughts all at once.

"And, I'm that stupid! I really thought all best friends had those moments when they stare at you, and- and-" Now, you weren't the only one with wet eyes and cheeks. "And I just feel like looking at you and being with you just makes me better. It makes me a better person, or something, and it makes me feel like... Like I'll never get hurt again. And even if I do get hurt, I know it's you I want to be there. I know that whenever something bad happens to you, or when you feel like crying or when you're happy or angry or anything that I want to be the one who gets to be by your side. When I look at you, all I want is to love you. To love all your pain away."

"You really mean that?"

"Yes! God, I love you." You didn't notice how it happened, but Jungkook's arms became a shield around you. Inside his arms you were indestructible. Your hands pressed against his cheeks, memorizing the plush, smooth skin. The world could hurl all the fire and ice it had, but it wouldn’t matter. "___, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I'm sorry that in that period, I hurt you. Please, forgive me. I love you, and I want to be with you."

"Of course, I forgive you. I... I can't believe this." Hearing everything you always wanted from him was drastically different when it was actually unfolding. It was a million times more than any hope or dream you used as a salve for your longing. It was everything.

"Maybe it took so long because I was afraid. Because the idea of loving you was something I wasn't ready for. Even though I did love you, God, who was I to take on something as fragile and crucial as loving you. I know I probably would have messed it up. And, fuck, maybe I'm messing it up right now. But I just needed it to be perfect. I needed loving you to be perfect because I don't want to give you anything less than that."

"You were always enough for me, Jungkook. More than enough. You were and are everything to me" His arms that pressed you further into him expressed how happy that made him.

"But I'm not perfect yet. I might mess up... A lot. No, I'll definitely mess up. I don't know if I can offer you perfect yet. But I do know that through everything I have never stopped loving you and I will never stop loving you."

"Jungkook... I don't know what to say." Your thumb grazed a falling tear from his face. Jungkook had not cried often in front of you; and you could tally up the amount of times he had on your fingers alone. But when he did, it was still as beautiful as when he was smiling or laughing or even scowling.

"You could say you love me back." You did. You loved him, his smile that was currently on a mission to melt your heart, his arms that carried both the good and bad parts of you, his wit that you always relished in. All the reasons to love him were an endless flowing river. If you were lucky enough, you would catch a glimpse of each beautiful current and be able to give name to the gravity that pulled you into him.

"I love you too, you idiot." The last word caught in your throat because your lips were being kissed instead.

His lips. Warm and exciting, allotting your being with an infinite devotion of his. And it was more than you could have ever hoped for.

It felt like fire. Like a grove of candles encapsulating the origin of heat. You and Jungkook, holding each other so close, you could have become one. Hot and all-consuming of anything in its path. If one stood too close, they would suffer scorching embers that stray from the orange pyres. Seokjin, Irene, and any other unassuming casualty that had the misfortune of stepping between the two of you, harboring the burn scars to remind them of what fumed from their interference.

Every element concocting between you and him was that of a bright flame, cremating pure metals and wet woods and thick forests alike.

You were in his home. His arms and lips and hands told you it was your home as well. All that time spent wondering why you could never slip inside before was never because he didn't want to let you in. And the thing is, you never thought to knock until now. You sat outside in a silenced hope that he would voluntarily open that door for you. But unknown to you, Jungkook seemed to be waiting as well. Waiting in a large room with empty spaces where you belonged and where he kept reserved for your residence alone.

He waited even when he wasn't quite sure of who he was waiting for, or if you would ever actually spill your warmth into his home. He waited until his fingers turned to ice and his eyes fell to exhaustion, for you to walk inside.

"So, you're like my boyfriend now?" Your voice brushed against his smiling lips.

"Yeah, your boyfriend, or whatever."

"You know this means you have to top next year's friendiversary. And I mean, all these candles? That's gonna be tough." It could have counted as sensory overload, the feeling of his palms flush against your back, the tip of his nose grazing yours, the bright array of candles illuminating the room. But you were so, incredibly cold without him that this felt like solace to you.

"When have I ever disappointed you?" Jungkook regretted what came out of his mouth too late to stop himself from saying it.

"Oh, I couldn't count the amount of times on my fingers alone! What about that time you forgot our chains for the tires on our trip to the mountains? We almost died." His eye roll only encouraged you to continue. Maybe, if you were lucky, he'd equip that cute pout whenever he wanted his way. "Or what about when you swore you brought water, but three miles in on our hike you had that look on your face. You know I reminded you to get water and you swore you did. Or what about-"

"Okay! I get it! I fuck up, jeez." He scrunched his nose, his eyes waning into crescents courtesy of that grin of his. You counted the number of wrinkles along the bridge of his nose as you always did, though you had acquired an expertise in the geography of his face. Each line and angle and ridge were now and eternally yours to restudy and marvel. "Hey, uh, almost forgot."

He reached into his front left pocket. "I, um, kept carrying it around thinking I'd see you somewhere. Kinda dumb right?"

"Not dumb." You opened the tiny box, wound the handle until the spring felt tight and you could see the throngs prick the textured wheel, and it was one of those moments where you didn't see a gift in your hand. You simply saw his thought and sentiment manifested as a box of wood that sung a tune.

All the things Jungkook wanted to give you, the sun and the moon and the entire universe were not his to give. So for now, he settled for this music box and there would be a day when he would collect each celestial being and place them right into your hands. Maybe then, he would feel less of a debt for possessing such a love like yours.

"This is... I love it. Thank you, Jungkook." You smiled, but it was motivated in the hopes he would smile back. You thought he deserved that much, at least. And he did.

"Sooooo... Can I tell Seokjin that you're actually in love with me and that he sucks ba-"

"Um, absolutely not!" As always, his crudeness and slight inability to remain mature for too long only wedged you deeper in love.

So, terribly in love. Your state of constant craving for Jeon Jungkook had been left barren. That desolate, solitary province was no longer yours to take residence in.

You had a home now. And you had no need to crave Jungkook anymore. He was right here, holding you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

a/n: okay, cry with me.... these two.... such hopeless saps for each other i'm here for it. final destination is simp city... also (spoiler) it is completely canon that irene and seokjin bond over their mutual heartbreaks and get to smitten hehehe. anyway, my loves i hope you enjoyed this finale as much as i enjoyed writing it!!! it was a short but heartfelt journey with these two and i will miss their idiocy sm. thank u for your endless support i love u all!!! <3

#bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts writing #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook bestfriend!au #jungkook angst #bts series #jungkook bestfriendstolovers!au #jungkook series #constant craving #rubycoast

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votederpycausemufins · 4 years ago

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@petrichormeraki @strawberrylemonz are the obvious influences of this chapter since it’s grian backstory!!! I make mention of the Antarctic empire, Yandere Highschool and Evo, but you probably don’t need to have seen them to know what’s going on (tbh i’ve only seen Evo and not smp earth or YHS)

i’ve uploaded the fic onto my ao3 if y’all want to read it there.

A castle stood in the middle of frozen plains. Though the wind was cold and harsh, inside was warm and cozy. There was the sound of a few people running through the halls, none of them that old.

“Blood for the Blood God!” A young voice yelled as they tackled someone.

“Hey! Get off me!” A similar voice spoke.

“Come on Techno, you’re taller than me!”

“And you have wings! Get your own blood!”

A third voice spoke up as they ran by. “I’m gonna have the last of the juice!”

“No! That’s my blood!” The young avian jumped up from pinning his one brother down and ran after the other. “Wilburrrrrr!”

By the time Techno reached the kitchen, his brothers were fighting in front of the fridge. As they tustled, he opened the fridge up and pulled out some cherry juice and used the last of the bottle to fill his glass. “Sorry Blood God, my juice now.”

The two kids stopped fighting and the avian pouted. “That’s not fair!”

The three of them ended up arguing until someone new entered the kitchen. A man with raven wings and wearing a crown walked in holding a baby in his arms. “Boys…” he spoke in a tone that made the triplets immediately stop what they were doing.

“It’s Techno’s fault! He stole my blood!”

“Only because you were too busy fighting with Wilbur.”

“Only cause he tried to get the blood first.”

“You weren’t fast enough!”

“I’m super fast! I just didn’t want to use my wings and beat you and make you cry!”

“I wouldn’t cry!”

“Everyone says you would!”

The cheery tone from the arguing children seemed to disappear along with the cost warmth as a chill seemed to find its way into the castle. The king carefully passed the baby to Techno and then kneeled down. “Xelqua, are you hearing the voices again?”

“No.” Xelqua said, obviously lying, making the king sigh.

“You know you need to tell daddy when you start to hear them again.”

Xelqua crosses his arms. “Techno doesn’t always tell you when he hears them!”

“And I don’t like him doing that either.” The king sighed. “Will you promise to always tell me if I get you some more juice?”

“Blood for me!” Xelqua said happily, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, blood for the Blood God!” Techno’s replied, handing the baby back to his dad.

They were only separated for a moment. Philza has his children holding onto his wings as they went through the market. He heard Xelqua cheer at seeing a stand of music discs. Before Phil could remind his son to stay with them, the child had let go of his wing.

The king immediately moved to grabbed Xelqua, only to find him missing. He assumed he was just faster and lost in the crowd, but even going on a path to the music stand, his son was missing.

He started searching in a wider area, some of the crowd started looking too. Philza started to worry about his son being kidnapped with him being a prince and all. He offered a reward, right there in the crowd for whoever found his son. He hoped it would work, but it didn’t.

Phil kept searching even when Wilbur started to complain he was tired and the baby in his arms started wailing. But his son didn’t reappear.

In a distant world, Xelqua put his foot down on the sidewalk, surprised to see it not cobblestone and also barely anyone in sight. “Daddy?” He looked around for his dad, but he wasn’t there. “D-daddy? D-dad?!” He looked around wildly, but still there was no sign of the king. “Dad! T-Techno! Wilbur!” He shouted for his family. But they weren’t there.

A woman spotted the lost Xelqua and took him to the police. When he described his family and home, the officers were left scratching their heads. They listed him as a found person, but no one ever came.

After a month he was put in the foster system. Compared to his previous life as a prince, Being an orphan was the worst thing ever. He hated being bullied for everything. His wings, which he eventually learned to hide completely. The way he talked, which caused him to try and hide his accent. And his name. That wasn’t something he could easily change, but when he ran away and started a new life on his own, it was easier. And when Sam and Taurus asked for his name. It was Grian.

Part of Grian was glad when the universe went sideways and he couldn’t find Sam or Taurtis. He had done some things that most people would frown upon. But he had to do them. He needed the ransom money, he needed to help his friends escape, he needed to kill YakuzaKaru. And it hadn’t helped when the voices told him he was right.

But suddenly he was in a world that was much simpler and closer to how home had been. He was free to do whatever he pleased. He ended up moving towards an ocean and making a castle in the middle of it. It wasn’t the Antarctic Empire, but it was his empire. His Grian Empire.

And it was so much better here. If he exploded someone or robbed them or trapped them in a box, he wasn’t in danger of getting hurt or arrested. The worst that happened was the Watchers showing up. They liked using clay and Grian needed clay. So he stole every bit he could. Of course, the Watchers didn’t like that, so he was told to burn it or have his items trapped away or something else.

Grian thought it was unfair. What gave them the right to choose what he was doing was wrong? He didn’t see anyone else get in trouble. And the voices agreed with him, it wasn’t his fault.

And then he was taken away by the Watchers. While he was scared by that, the voices assured him it would be fine. The Watchers had just been testing him. And now they were giving him a chance to join. He would have said no, but then he thought about the family he lost. The Watchers were powerful. If he became one, he could find his family again.

He took the power. He became a Watcher. The voices became clearer and he felt complete. At least until he realized he couldn’t find his family, even with all the power being a Watcher gave him. He could see into a million worlds, but it had been years, and when he looked into the world that housed his home, all he saw was an old empty castle. There was no one left.

Grian ended up shutting away his Watcher side in anger. He finally had the chance to see his family and they were gone. And if those voices hadn’t told him to take the power and look, he wouldn’t have learned the truth. Grian preferred the idea that he could see his family again, or at least imagine the possibility, then know for sure that he was truly alone.

So Grian used his powers as a Watcher to hide the voices and the powers away. If he wanted to, he could pull them back, but why bother. He stayed with the Watchers for a while, gazing into the world he had just left before reaching for his powers just a little to look into other worlds. He then met someone who felt like his match. Everyone knew Redstoners and Builders fit perfectly together. And Grian was a builder while this man created redstone masterpieces.

Grian watched as the man left into a server called Hermitcraft. He followed along and searched for the admin of the world. The admin seemed surprised to see Grian, but allowed him to join them, though not right away as they were going to be moving worlds soon. Grian agreed to wait, and wait he did. The moment the world was open, Grian took himself there. It was empty for a short bit, but then other people started showing up.

Grian followed the redstoner Mumbo around, glad to have a new friend. He didn’t understand half the things Mumbo talked about when it came to redstone, but it was still fun to listen to. It helped distract him from all that came before.

Once or twice, Grian had to use his powers from being a Watcher, and he had to explain to Xisuma what he was. The Voidwalker seemed to understand if be a little put off by how someone like Grian could actually be a Watcher.

When they moved to another world, Grian followed. It was peaceful for the longest time until Mumbo created Hermit Challenges. Well, it wasn’t right when he created them, but later down the line. He was just asked to wear blue. It shouldn’t have been that hard to do. But he always wore red. Blue wasn’t his color, it was his brother’s color. Grian tried arguing with Mumbo, asking him to allow the challenge to be skipped. He didn’t explain why he didn’t want to do it, so Mumbo said he had to.

Eventually, Grian wore blue. And then the mansion exploded. Everyone rushed to the ruined building and saw Grian in front of it, holding TNT. But Grian didn’t look like himself. He had tried to hide the memories away. It was just going to be for a day, but to hide the memories of his part life, he had to be a Watcher. And being a Watcher brought back his voices. And if he hated blue so much, why have a mansion that was all blue?

It took days for everyone to calm him down and get him back to normal. They panicked when he brought out his powers once more though it was just to repair what he had destroyed. Grian refused to meet Mumbo’s eyes for a while, so he went to his second closest friend Iskall to talk with. Despite Iskall’s insistence that he was not a therapist, he agreed to help Grian talk through what was going on in his mind.

Between talks, Iskall spoke with Xisuma to relay what he had learned and soon all the Hermits were informed about what was going on with Grian. Of course Grian didn’t give out every detail like his life with Sam and Taurtis and the fact that he was a prince. All he said was he lost his family and ended up in a not so great crowd as a teen.

The next time Grian asked to opt out of something, people quickly obliged, both to not have the newest hermit hurting more, and also to make sure the server wasn’t destroyed by a Watcher going haywire.

It was months after the incident of the mansion exploding that Tommy appeared. No one knew where the kid had appeared from but it was obvious that sending him back couldn’t be an option. Mambo and Grian both took a liking to Tommy, Grian also being the newest Hermit and Mumbo being the youngest. Well, obviously now Tommy was both the youngest and newest, but it was the principle of the matter.

Though he was extremely wary of the pair at first, Tommy quickly warmed up to them, especially Grian. The two of them were so similar, people assumed they were siblings at one point. When someone pointed it out, then immediately regretted it because Grian got upset and started yelling at them. He flew off and Tommy followed behind, not knowing what was going on.

Grian explained how he lost his family and how by the time he finally got home, they were all gone. Tommy told Grian about his own family, how they had slowly all gone a little crazy at the situation Dream had put them in. Slowly, the two of them bonded, just talking about the situation, joking around. Grian told some stories and Tommy replied with his own.

It was when Tommy pretended to be his oldest brother and said ‘blood for the blood god’ when Grian froze and became pale. Neither of them had used names for their family. At least, Tommy hadn’t used anything other than nicknames. Grian asked if the blood god was Xelqua. Tommy asked how Grian could possibly know that name.

When Grian learned Tommy was his brother, he pulled the teen into a crushing hug. He refused to let go for the longest time, terrified that just like last time, the moment he let go, they would end up in separate worlds. Tommy pretended to complain, but he was fine with Grian hugging him. He understood.

Grian made sure everyone was together when he used his Watcher powers again. Tommy had no clue what was going on and why everyone looked ready for war. The Hermits had promised they didn’t do that here, and it was worse that they all seemed ready to specifically fight Grian. Tommy nearly jumped between then, ready to fight every hermit for his brother, when Grian pulled out his Watcher powers. If Tommy had been scared of Dream, he was suddenly even more scared of his brother.

The moments seemed to stretch out and the Hermits started moving towards Grian, ready to fight a Watcher, when he pushed it back down. Immediately Hermits were shedding armor and putting their elytra back on, glad that no fighting had to occur. Xisuma pulled Tommy aside to fully explain everything to the boy while Mumbo stayed with Grian as a shoulder to cry on. When Tommy returned, Grian once again held him close, this time seeming more worried about losing his brother. Though not in the sense that Tommy could disappear, but in the sense that Tommy could be like his brothers, losing themselves to madness. Just like Grian had nearly done.

While everyone argued, Grian used his Watcher powers more, gazing into the SMP that Tommy had come from. Though no one liked the methods, they were at least glad to get more insight into what had led Tommy to being the way he was. And because of it they were able to help him heal better.

One thing that became obvious was how the time within the world of Hermitcraft passed faster than in other worlds. It helped explain why it was so odd that Grian and Tommy, who once were only around five years apart were now closer to ten. Because of that, there was little worry of the SMP catching them by surprise and trying to find Tommy. Before the next MCC meeting, Tommy hit a growth spurt which made it harder for his old friends to recognize him even before he put on a slight disguise.

Back in Hermittown, Tommy slowly learned to be like his new family. Instead of stealing or hoping for handouts, he used the knowledge from the other Hermits to make farms and get plenty of resources. He didn’t mind spending hours in a mine as the mix of an efficiency five pickaxe and a haste two beacon made the stone break as if it were simply breaking grass. It was peaceful other than the occasional monster showing up and Grian looked proud of him every time so it always seemed worth it. Especially as he always ended up with plenty of diamonds.

When he first started building, the biggest thing Tommy made was a cobble tower up to the build limit, but after mining so much, filling his inventory with cobble, and having an amazing builder for a brother, Tommy built more. He created what looked like a tall wizard tower, which Grian begrudgingly was happy about, though Tommy saw the way Scar smiled smugly at Grian. For the most part the tower was just cobble, but here and there were stone bricks and mossy cobble, spruce and dark oak wood, and other stones to bring some color.

There were different floors and Tommy nearly gave Iskall a heart attack when the redstoner took a tour of the tower and walked in on the floor entirely made of diorite. One floor was filled with yellows and greens and housed a single bee which everyone was pretty sure somehow held part of Tubbo’s soul. It was messy, but at the top of the tower, Mumbo had helped Tommy create a cycling screen. Tommy made half of it the flag of L’Manburg and the other half the flag of the Antarctic Empire. Every few days he would flip a lever and the flag would change. Though certain parts of his past weren’t the greatest, Tommy was glad to have something to remind him of it, and Grian was glad to see the flag of his old family once again.

The last time Grian peeked into the SMP, he saw Dream getting so close to finding a way to Hermitcraft. He warned Xisuma who carefully told other Hermits to prepare, trying to not scare Tommy. Eventually the teen found out, which was probably for the best so when Dream did show up, he didn’t completely panic. Tommy tried to deny Dream could find a way in, and forgetting the time difference between the two worlds, Tommy slowly thought that he really wouldn’t show up.

But when Tubbo appeared and mentioned Dream would be coming, it became very real. Tommy prepared as did Grian. Grian flew to his brother to give him comfort before the battle started. Grian said he would do anything to make sure they couldn’t take Tommy. Tommy asked Grian to promise him not to use his Watcher powers.

Grian hesitated. He had been using the powers more and more. He’d slowly been getting used to them. Surely it would be fine for an emergency. But Tommy wouldn’t listen to Grian’s reasoning and reluctantly Grian promised not to use those powers.

He broke his promise.

#hermit!tommy au #watcher!grian #avian!grian #triplet au #grian #grian xelqua #hermitcraft #dreamsmp #evolution smp #yandere highschool #technoblade #wilbur soot #philza #tommyinnit #mumbo jumbo #My writing

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srbachchan · 4 years ago

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DAY 4627

Jalsa, Mumbai Oct 31, 2020 Sat 11:19 PM

Birthday - EF Vaijayanti Ravindra Damle .. Sunday, November 1

Birthday Ef - Vishan Lal ..

love and greetings to you both on this auspicious day .. be safe ..🙏

.. recents deaths and passings bring grief .. family , work and legendary .. they all had a life that gave so much to the world .. and the heavens welcome them .. in the peace .. 🌹🙏🌼🌸

.. and the Medium says it all ..

Things Most People Learn Too Late In Life ~ N Cole

“Life is a journey of twists and turns, peaks and valleys, mountains to climb and oceans to explore.

Good times and bad times. Happy times and sad times.

But always, life is a movement forward.

No matter where you are on the journey, in some way, you are continuing on — and that’s what makes it so magnificent. One day, you’re questioning what on earth will ever make you feel happy and fulfilled. And the next, you’re perfectly in flow, writing the most important book of your entire career.

What nobody ever tells you, though, when you are a wide-eyed child, are all the little things that come along with “growing up.”

1. Most people are scared of using their imagination.

They’ve disconnected with their inner child.

They don’t feel they are “creative.”

They like things “just the way they are.”

2. Your dream doesn’t really matter to anyone else.

Some people might take interest. Some may support you in your quest. But at the end of the day, nobody cares, or will ever care about your dream as much as you.

3. Friends are relative to where you are in your life.

Most friends only stay for a period of time — usually in reference to your current interest. But when you move on, or your priorities change, so too do the majority of your friends.

4. Your potential increases with age.

As people get older, they tend to think that they can do less and less — when in reality, they should be able to do more and more, because they have had time to soak up more knowledge. Being great at something is a daily habit. You aren’t just “born” that way.

5. Spontaneity is the sister of creativity.

If all you do is follow the exact same routine every day, you will never leave yourself open to moments of sudden discovery. Do you remember how spontaneous you were as a child? Anything could happen, at any moment!

6. You forget the value of “touch” later on.

When was the last time you played in the rain?

When was the last time you sat on a sidewalk and looked closely at the cracks, the rocks, the dirt, the one weed growing between the concrete and the grass nearby.

Do that again.

You will feel so connected to the playfulness of life.

7. Most people don’t do what they love.

It’s true.

The “masses” are not the ones who live the lives they dreamed of living. And the reason is because they didn’t fight hard enough. They didn’t make it happen for themselves. And the older you get, and the more you look around, the easier it becomes to believe that you’ll end up the same.

Don’t fall for the trap.

8. Many stop reading after college.

Ask anyone you know the last good book they read, and I’ll bet most of them respond with, “Wow, I haven’t read a book in a long time.”

9. People talk more than they listen.

There is nothing more ridiculous to me than hearing two people talk “at” each other, neither one listening, but waiting for the other person to stop talking so they can start up again.

10. Creativity takes practice.

It’s funny how much we as a society praise and value creativity, and yet seem to do as much as we can to prohibit and control creative expression unless it is in some way profitable.

If you want to keep your creative muscle pumped and active, you have to practice it on your own.

11. “Success” is a relative term.

As kids, we’re taught to “reach for success.”

What does that really mean? Success to one person could mean the opposite for someone else.

Define your own Success.

12. You can’t change your parents.

A sad and difficult truth to face as you get older: You can’t change your parents.

They are who they are.

Whether they approve of what you do or not, at some point, no longer matters. Love them for bringing you into this world, and leave the rest at the door.

13. The only person you have to face in the morning is yourself.

When you’re younger, it feels like you have to please the entire world.

You don’t.

Do what makes you happy, and create the life you want to live for yourself. You’ll see someone you truly love staring back at you every morning if you can do that.

14. Nothing feels as good as something you do from the heart.

No amount of money or achievement or external validation will ever take the place of what you do out of pure love.

Follow your heart, and the rest will follow.

15. Your potential is directly correlated to how well you know yourself.

Those who know themselves and maximize their strengths are the ones who go where they want to go.

Those who don’t know themselves, and avoid the hard work of looking inward, live life by default. They lack the ability to create for themselves their own future.

16. Everyone who doubts you will always come back around.

That kid who used to bully you will come asking for a job.

The girl who didn’t want to date you will call you back once she sees where you’re headed. It always happens that way.

Just focus on you, stay true to what you believe in, and all the doubters will eventually come asking for help.

17. You are a reflection of the 5 people you spend the most time with.

Nobody creates themselves, by themselves.

We are all mirror images, sculpted through the reflections we see in other people. This isn’t a game you play by yourself. Work to be surrounded by those you wish to be like, and in time, you too will carry the very things you admire in them.

18. Beliefs are relative to what you pursue.

Wherever you are in life, and based on who is around you, and based on your current aspirations, those are the things that shape your beliefs.

Nobody explains, though, that “beliefs” then are not “fixed.” There is no “right and wrong.” It is all relative.

Find what works for you.

19. Anything can be a vice.

Be wary.

Again, there is no “right” and “wrong” as you get older. A coping mechanism to one could be a way to relax on a Sunday to another. Just remain aware of your habits and how you spend your time, and what habits start to increase in frequency — and then question where they are coming from in you and why you feel compelled to repeat them.

Never mistakes, always lessons.

As I said, know yourself.

20. Your purpose is to be YOU.

What is the meaning of life?

To be you, all of you, always, in everything you do — whatever that means to you. You are your own creator. You are your own evolving masterpiece.

Growing up is the realization that you are both the sculpture and the sculptor, the painter and the portrait. Paint yourself however you wish.”

Finding the reason to give be the element that survives all .. the giving when announced depletes the announce .. yes it is often told to speak .. but if the speak is not heard then ..?

.. so they that can feel the speak be the better .. it was for them not for the speak in any case .. but information they say needs to be put out .. really ?

for who ..?

for them that survive on information .. the information is mine .. the informed never were involved in it .. for them it is business .. my information is mine and is without a commercial value ..

I know the commerce of value .. they that practice it are not wrong .. they are in its commercial .. they lead it with profession .. they chose it much all choose profession ..

but all choosing never does agree with others .. no harm .. the other shall ever disagree , because it was never his .. they that disagree with their own are the divine .. they have the servility by their side .. a servile sum is never a subtraction ..

it be ever in multiply ..

.. they that designed my costume for my film KHOON PASINA , never knew I would have to fight a real tiger in the film .. it was the most harrowing experience .. some day it shall be described .. done now would invite distress ..

the ‘mahamaari’ has already taken care of that .. we do not need more ..

Amitabh Bachchan

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oneyanderegirl · 4 years ago

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My Personal Experience as a Chinese American

I don’t generally make posts like this, but after the Atlanta shooting, where 6 Asian American women were killed, I wanted to write about my own personal experience with racism as a Chinese American. For years, I have had to deal with several instances where I would be put in situations that made me uncomfortable, annoyed, and angry at the people who decided it would be funny or fun to do so. Almost every time these instances happened, I could only suck it up and play it off as a joke, dismissing my own feelings and forcing myself to accept these situations.

Racism doesn’t just come in form of physical violence. In fact, I feel like for Asians especially, most of it comes from the acts of microaggressions, stereotyping, and general dismissiveness when Asians try to speak up about their experiences. This does not mean that physical violence against Asians does not exist. However, from my own personal experience, I have mostly seen it in its more subtle forms, as mentioned above.

Some people may wonder why didn’t I just speak up then? Why didn’t I just tell them to stop or fuck off with their racism?

The most simple answer can come down to two reasons. The first reason, and probably biggest reason in my opinion, is the way the media has gaslighted society to accept casual racist remarks and stereotypes made towards Asians. The second reason is because of the way my parents have taught me to stay quiet in these situations because they are afraid of the consequences that could result in speaking up about these issues.

The media has, for years, stereotyped Asians into being type casted into certain roles; fetishized its women, while mocking its men; and have made the same racist jokes over and over again with no criticism made towards them. Here are some examples:

1. Characters with ascents being made as a punchline of some joke

2. The amount of times Asian actors/actresses that have been type casted as martial artists or only selected to act in martial art themed movies

3. The amount of times Asian actors/actresses that have played the “ lonely, nerdy kid that does nothing but study”

4. The fetishization of Asian women in porn

5. Asian men have “smaller dicks”, are “shorter”, and “less manly” compared to other races.

When you grow up in an environment that constantly portrays Asians as these type of things, it eventually becomes something that you accept, even begrudgingly. To better understand what I mean by this, think about how drug dependence develops. When you constantly use the same drug, for example an opioid, your brain eventually develops a tolerance to it. When this occurs, you require a higher dosage of that same drug in order to feel the same effects that was felt at a lower dosage. Similarly, when the media constantly portrays Asians in this stereotypical manner, you eventually accept it as a part of American culture and require something more drastic to make you feel the same anger, annoyance, and uncomfortableness that caused you to speak up about it in the first place.

The second reason that I wrote about is my parents. Before I elaborate more about this, I just want whoever is reading this to understand that I do not blame my parents in any way for teaching me to stay quiet about these situations. I hope that you do not either. Rather, I hope after reading this, you will better understand why I and so many other Asian Americans have been taught to stay quiet when dealing with microaggressions and other racial remarks and why it is so difficult to stand up against racism aimed towards us.

The American dream is something that used to be, and still is, famously discussed and shown off around the world. It is this American ideology, having been passed along to many cultures, that became the reason why so many Asians have tried to immigrate here over the decades and decades of history. When you live in a country with raging war occurring, high poverty, oppressive government or a mix of all three, the people will always end up suffering. Doesn’t the American dream then, sound like the perfect way to escape such a life?

Escaping such a country isn’t easy. It’s painful because not everyone makes it. Many immigrants end up leaving their entire lives behind. Some have to separate from close friends and family, where they may never see those people again. Others end up leaving their businesses or education behind. It’s not the same as traveling from state to state, they have to travel literally across the ocean, maybe even halfway across the world, to be able to even have a chance to enter this country.

As if that wasn’t difficult enough, the new difficulties that comes with being an immigrant in a new country adds even more stress. The racism coupled with not being able speak English and having no money, property, or power are all things that many Asian immigrants had to face when they first came to the United States. My parents were no exception.

For many years, my parents had to suffer working low paying jobs, deal with microaggressions, and being unable to connect with their friends and families, in order to save enough money to buy a home and build a life that could support me enough to allow me to build a stable life for myself. Even now, they are still working hard to make sure that I don’t suffer.

Why?

Because that is their American dream.

That is all they, and many other Asian parents, have always wanted: to see their children live happy, financially stable lives without the suffrage that they were forced to experience in their country during their own life.

Are they the perfect parents? No. Does this excuse everything? No. However, it does give you insight and understanding as to why they taught us to stay quiet and avoid trouble for all these years. It’s not because they think racism doesn’t exist or that it’s useless to speak up about these issues (though they may say this), it’s because they are afraid. They are afraid for their children. They are afraid of their children getting hurt, being forced under the same circumstances that they had worked so hard to escape from. So for those parents, racial remarks means nothing to them if it means that they are able to survive and stay alive. It doesn’t mean that they like it, but if you had to choose between starving and living under the fear that the government may one day kill you for war or for going against their ideology versus racial remarks made by ignorant people, wouldn’t the answer be obvious?

It is because of this, that is why I was always taught to stay quiet or to avoid trouble. That is why over the years, I have tried to push out my own feelings and forced myself to accept these situations. That is why I have always tried to go along with the racial remarks that people try to play off as a “joke” or dismiss these racial remarks as “ no big deal”. Here are some examples that I have personally experienced over the years:

1. Being called a “Chink”.

2. The “ Guess-what-type-of-Asian-am-I game: “ Are you Vietnamese? Japanese?” or “ Where are you from?” or “ What are you?” in a disrespectful manner of speaking.

3. “ You don’t look Chinese.” followed with “ You’re really dark for a Chinese person.”

4. Slanted eyes made towards me to show that “ Look, I can be Asian too!!”

5. “ I heard you eat babies for breakfast.”

6. “ You’re Asian, you probably just study all day.”

7. “ I can speak Chinese too: ching chong ling long!”

8. “ Your eyes are too big to be Chinese,” or “ Your eyes are too small,”

Nowadays, with the attacks against Asians being higher than ever, when I go out to buy groceries for my family or to go attend my classes, my parents are always afraid. They always tell me to come home as fast as possible. They tell me that they are scared that I am going to get shot by some racist or even worse, murdered.

For years, we have tried to stay as quiet as possible, to make as little trouble as possible, and to tolerate those racial remarks made against us. Yet we are still being killed for trying to live peacefully amongst ourselves. We are being killed for existing. Worst of all, it is mostly our elderly and immigrant parents who are being targeted. Imagine experiencing so much hardship over the years, going across the continent to a completely new country, working your ass off and suffering for years before finally building a somewhat comfortable life for yourself, and then? You just randomly get killed off by some ignorant, racist murderer who decided they “had a bad day” or some other stupid, insignificant reason and chose you as their target. The American dream that they had worked hard and sought for years and years, all gone now, all because of that stupid, insignificant reason. The Asian Americans who have worked hard to build such a life, won’t ever be able to enjoy its benefits ever again because they are now dead.

That is why, I have decided to speak up about it. That is why so many Asian Americans have decided to speak up about it. We are tired of staying silent. We are tired of having to keep our suffering quiet. Racism against Asian Americans have always existed. We have always suffered from racism. The myth that Asian Americans are the “ Model Minority” has always been just a way of dismissing our issues.

So if you are reading this, please listen. Listen to our stories. Learn about our culture.

Listen to us.

#stop asian hate #imporant #personal #AL #vent #rant

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arsonistvoyager · 4 years ago

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A Jedi for a Clone ; Captain Rex x Reader

PART 2 HERE

pairing: Rex x Reader

Summary: Imagine you're Pong Krells former padawan, now freshly knighted jedi, and you feel hatred towards the clones, especially the 501st, and you get put on a mission with Anakin. The clones are all a little scared to get close to you but also feel a little guilty (because they're angels) since you saw Krell when he was still a good jedi and they feel like they took your parental figure. But then the more time you spend with them you realize what your master actually did

a/n: this is pretty much my first time writing anything remotely star wars x reader so whoever comes across this bear with me. i’m a stupid little beginner lol.

“Is everyone ready?”

“Yes, General, we expect the shuttle to arrive within the next 10 to 20 minutes.”

Anakin nodded as he looked over the cliffs that the 501st had set their temporary camp up on.

Arami was a planet located on the outer rim, not far from where Anakin had grown up, meaning barely outside of Hutt Space.

It had not been long since separatist forces had invaded the sparsely populated planet and had begun to enslave its population – doing so right under the republics eyes. To provocate them into a fight, Anakin had thought when the council had brought up the news of yet another separatist invasion. To make it seem like the Republic was illegally occupying neutral worlds and forcing them onto their side.

Anakin had known it was a set up from the very beginning, but the council had insisted that he take care of the problem. To be more specific, the council had sent Obi-Wan to give Anakin the orders, knowing of the connection the former padawan and master had and how Anakin was less likely to refuse the mission if it came from his almost-father figure.

And of course Anakin did want to refuse. He despised being anywhere near Hutt-Space, more specifically, his old home world of Tatooine. Too many bad memories were connected to that place. In the end he reluctantly accepted. It would be a quick mission. The seperatists had supposedly not sent many of their droid forces. An easy task for the Jedi General. And it may or may not have been his deeply rooted hatred for the slave business that convinced him to take on this mission.

As he looked over the cliffs near the coasts of an Arami ocean he had to admit the planet was barely anything like the sandy, vast, emptiness of Tatooine. If he closed his eyes and listened to the clash of waves he could almost pretend to be on the beautiful idyllic plateaus of Naboo, nobody but a certain senator by his side.

The only thing ruining the beautiful scenery inside his head were the excited and anxious chatter of his men, his troopers, behind him. The council had sent Anakin and the five-oh-first without any aerial star destroyer support. Not even the senate, nor chancellor Palpatine had been notified of the decision. It was supposed to be a quiet secret between them and the Arami people they would rescue.

The only other person assigned to the mission was another Jedi General. A senior padawan that had been knighted only months ago and Anakin and his men were about to meet her.

Formerly Commander now General (Y/N) (L/N) had made a name for herself within the last two years of the war, not only by rising up in ranks and in the favor of many High Jedi of the Jedi Council but also in her skill of many force techniques and abilities as well as the success rate of her missions.

Many civilians knew of her as a saviour, many jedi knew her as one of the top notch generals of the outer rim. The clones however would only know her under one name. Master Pong Krells Padawan.

The shuttle had barely exited hyperspace and reached the Arami system when whispered rumors circulated around Anakins men.“Krells Padawan. She’s really coming.”

“Do you think she’s bringing a clone battalion with her?” “Nah I heard she doesn’t work with clones. Not ever since...Umbara, y’know.” “I heard she used to command several troops until she heard the news of the Generals death. I’ve heard she...slaughtered her own men in a fit of rage.” “Banthashit! Don’t listen to all the rumors you hear in 79’s, Echo.” “I swear it’s true!” “Did you guys know she wields two lightsabers?” Anakin could not block their voices out, as much as he tried. The force surrounding his men was practically shaking with their insecurity. He hated that they felt that way. And he hated himself for not being on Umbara when it happened to help his men. He regretted leaving his men in the care of that psychopath in the first place. But how should he have known? The regret clawed its way into his mind anyway.

As for General (L/N)...She was not an unfamiliar face to him. In fact, because she was not far from his age, the two of them had often been in meditation and intergalactic geography classes together, as younglings. She had been nice to him. Helped him once with one of the questions when Master Mundi had asked him about the surface of Mon Cala and he had been too occupied with his daydream to realize he had been called upon. After whispering a quick “thanks” she had giggled in response, before focusing her attention back onto the Jedi Master. That was before Obi-Wan took him on his first mission, followed up by many more. As a result Anakin spent much less time with the other younglings. Maybe he had seen her once or twice in the halls of the Jedi Temple, Anakin could not recall it. Had Master Krell been by her side? He didn’t know either.

When Anakin had consoled his men after the nightmares of Umbara he had been more than surprised that many of the clones, Rex included, felt horrible for what they had done to the Jedi Master. Anakin at the time had thought it was due to their extensive training on Kamino, where they learned to obey their Generals under any circumstances. Only later had he found out someone had gone to his men and told them all about Pong Krell, his devotion to the Jedi Order and his kindness towards his fellow Jedi.

And of course, about his very young Padawan.

Anakin had wanted to console her as well, had wanted to check up on her to make sure she was alright after the horrible news reached him. He knew very well the feeling of guilt about not being able to do something about the death of someone beloved and how the darkness would very easily latch onto that feeling and devour it. The council forbade him to act.

Instead they sent him on another mission – far from Umbara – a small planet in the mid rim. Simple humanitarian acts. The council had probably thought they showed mercy and compassion. Bantha shit.

The young General turned around as he received a message on his comlink. A trooper signaled him that the shuttle would land shortly. Anakin thanked him and started walking towards the landing area they had cleared up. As he walked past his men he noticed how they tensed up and muted. As if their earlier “whispers” hadn’t been loud enough for the entire system to hear. He sighed and regarded them with an empathetic gaze before he made his way to the front. He hoped they knew what he meant by that. He understood their fears.

The shuttle had settled on the ground and Anakin and several of his troopers watched as the ships ramp rolled out. Seconds later a figure emerged from the bright lights of the ships. There she stood, General (L/N), clad in dark jedi robes. She took less than a second to inspect her surroundings, looking the clones right into their eyes before her gaze fell upon the fellow Jedi General. With a strong, confident walk and a serious, stern expression she stepped down the ramp and made her way to Anakin, ignoring the soldiers saluting her arrival. --- You felt the clones’ nervousness in the force the moment the ship had touched Arami grounds. Good. They should fear you. They should shake underneath their bright white armor.

Blue. They had chosen blue to paint their generic armor. A pathetic attempt at individuality. Red would have been more fitting in your opinion. Had Master Krells red blood spilled on their neatly painted armor when they murdered him in cold blood? You had asked yourself the question numerous times. It still haunted you.

Dozens of eyes fell on you and you resisted the urge to shoot them a glare, deadlier than the two blue lightsabers attached to your hips. The council had sent you of all people on this idiotic mission. And you knew you had more important missions to attend to – in the calmness and familiarity of your own presence. Not surrounded by mindless clones. The killers of the kindest man you had known in your life, nonetheless.

“General (L/N)”, Skywalkers voice sounded. “It’s a pleasure to have someone as talented as you here with me.”

You knew of Anakin Skywalker. The golden boy of the galactic war. In fact, you had idolized him before Umbara had happened. Of course you knew he had nothing to do with what had happened, as he had been deployed elsewhere at the time, just like you yourself had been. B ut the fact that he continued to work with jedi-killers had shocked you. How was he able to live with these men that had killed one of you?

“As it is for me, General Skywalker.”, you finally answered, taking the hand he had reached out to you and shaking it firmly. “My deepest and sincerest apologies for what happened to Master Krell.” Oh no. “I want you to know that I-” You didn’t give him the chance to continue what he had intended to say. No – you did not need his empty words of pity.

“General I think we should discuss our strategy now.”, you instead cut him off with. “Yes...Of course.” Skywalker rubbed his forehead and sighed, stretching his arm out towards the location of their main tent. “But I just want to-”

You didn’t even give him the chance to speak, before abruptly turning towards the direction he had pointed at, determined to get this mission over as quickly as possible. It was then that you ran face first into a tall, broad man that had seemingly come out of nowhere. And your heightened Jedi senses had been too clouded with Skywalkers presence to recognize the other person.

Normally this simple occurrence would not have fazed you in the slightest. But this was Arami and aside from yourself and Skywalker there were only a certain group of people on the planet. Clones.

Instinctively your hands went to your lightsabers and your mouth curled into an angry scowl, eyes burning with fury. What imbecile of a labor-bred traitor had dared to step in your way?

You locked eyes with a blonde clone in full armor, clutching onto his helmet and already taking a few steps back. “General forgive me. I didn’t mean to-” The grip around your right lightsaber tightened. Had it not been for a decade of training in the arts of meditation, you would have probably jumped onto him like a feral beast and rammed your lightsaber right through that stupidly dyed head of his. Instead you decided to exhale deeply through your nostrils and stared right at him.

“It’s General (L/N) to you, soldier. Unlike you I have a name and I would prefer it be used to address me properly.” He could barely look into your eyes.

“Oh you’ve met, Rex.”, you recognized Skywalker's voice from behind you. “Captain Rex to be exact. One of my most trusted men.” Yes you knew of the silly little nicknames the clones gave each other and you were also aware of what Anakin was trying to accomplish, but you decided to not fall into his trap and walked towards the command tent.

“You okay, Rex?”, Anakin asked shortly after you left, laying his hand on Rex’ shoulder in a soft attempt to comfort. “Yeah...Yeah General. I don’t know what came over me. I wanted to apologize. I told myself now or never. But when I saw her I – I froze.” Anakin frowned, his eyebrows knitting in disbelief. “Rex you know you have nothing to apologize for. You acted in the name of justice.” The clone trooper stared at the ground, before putting his helmet back on. “If you say so.”

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a/n: Originally I wanted to write out the entire idea of her sitting down with rex and talking it out and realizing how she had been in the wrong and even make it a little romantic but then i got a little carried away in the process and it turned out WAY too long anyway so- enjoy this. whatever it is. I’d call it experiment and me dipping into unknown territory to see if i want to continue lol Maybe I will do a second part where they actually work it out tho

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #sttcw #clone wars #the clone wars #captain rex #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #anakin skywalker #anakin #skywalker #clones #tcw #reader #reader insert #clones x reader

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 5 years ago

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Footprints in the Sand

Part 5: ...Don’t

Summary/Author's Note: Okay, let's have a little conflict shall we? As you'll read in part 6, this story takes place seven years after King Robert's rebellion/the murder of Elia Martell and ten years BEFORE Oberyn vs the Mountain. That being said, I apologize in advance to Jaime Lannister lovers. I love him as much as the next person but this is prime pre-season 1, zero redeeming qualities, prince douche kingslayer, Jaime. So, I will write him as such. This is gonna hurt. Update: I cut this into two parts because it got away from me.

Pairing: Oberyn x Ellaria x Reader Word Count: 3.3k Rating/Warnings: (R/18+) Almost sex, Language, derogatory terms, mental/physical abuse, inappropriate cousin behavior (lookin’ at you JL), Protective!Oberyn, annnnnnggsssttttt, it’s gonna get worse before it gets better

|Parts| (1)(2)(3)(4) [MASTERLIST]

Waking up had never been one of your favorite things to do. The fact that the birds perched in the tree outside your window insisted on singing to the rising sun was always the thing you liked least about nature. Couldn't they wait to sing until they had a more willing audience? You started to roll over and shove your head under your pillow like you did every morning but you couldn't move. Unwilling to let your racing imagination cause you to panic, you opened your eyes and looked down to find the reason for your paralysis. A strong, tanned arm was flung over your waist, a possessive weight balanced against your bare skin. And then you remembered.

Oberyn breathed deeply against your neck, pausing only when you put your hand over his before he resumed his slumber. The heat of his body against your back was welcome as the crisp morning air fluttered in from the window that none of you had bothered to close.

In front of you, Ellaria slept peacefully. Her hand was tucked under her cheek as her beautiful dark hair fell around her equally beautiful face and you had to stop yourself from reaching out and touching her. Her other hand rested on top of the silks, against your stomach as if where Oberyn's protective arm ended...hers began.

Was it possible to care about more than one person at the same time? You didn't know. You had never been asked such a question. A week ago you thought you would have known the answer to that question. Now, looking at the two people holding you while they slept, you weren't so sure.

Oberyn stirred behind you and you felt his lips lightly brush the back of your neck. He pressed his prominent nose against your hair and inhaled deeply. His voice was low and soft, full of content and sleep as he said, "She is beautiful, no?"

You knew he was talking about Ellaria and nodded. "She really is."

"The two of you make a good pair," he said, moving his hand from your waist to push your hair away from your neck so he could nose your pulse point.

"I don't know about that."

"I do," he continued.

"She's so much more than I am."

"It would hurt her to hear you say that." You felt him stiffen behind you before giving you a squeeze and saying, "She is cunning and wild. Yet nurturing and maternal. You are brave and kind. Intelligent yet understanding. Both of you possess a gentle heart." He laced his fingers with yours whispering against the shell of your ear. "Together you make the perfect woman."

You looked over your shoulder at him in disbelief. "Are you always this charming?" You joked, taking the focus off yourself. His words weighed heavy on your soul. He couldn't possibly know you well enough to say such beautiful things, but you wanted to believe that he did.

"I would like to say yes, but Ellaria would tell you otherwise." He grinned. "I've been known to have a temper."

"I don't believe that," you said, looking into his dark brown eyes.

"You just haven't seen it yet," he raised his eyebrows a few times and you suppressed a laugh against his chest. Ellaria groaned in protest and rolled over, shoving her face into the pillow. When her breathing resumed it's pattern for sleep, Oberyn continued. "So, you're still not coming to Dorne?"

The question made your chest tight. How could he ask you that so soon after his proposal? You bit your lip and looked up at him, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I--My life is here." You said as if that explained everything.

"And are you happy?" Oberyn asked and you had to fight to swallow the lump in your throat.

"I don't know."

"That's not an answer."

You turned over in his arms and touched his face. That strong, handsome face that after only a few days you knew you could pick out of a crowd of thousands. You kept your hand in his jaw as your gaze flickered down to his lips before kissing him gently. He knew you were avoiding the question.

Feeling bold from the night before, you raised up on your arms, sliding your leg over his until you were straddling his waist. His cock, soft with sleep, started to harden as the movement caused him to press against the soft cheek of your ass. He looked up at you with a heavy gaze and you would have given anything to know what he was thinking as he put his hands on your waist gently.

Did you want to go to Dorne? You didn’t know. Although you weren’t particularly fond of the heat, the idea of warm sands and ocean air did sound appealing. What you did know was that you felt a connection with the man under you, and the woman resting quietly at your side. And that was something you did want. You didn’t want your time with them to end just because they had to return to their homeland. Most of your life in King’s Landing, and before on Casterly Rock, had been lonely. You were used to being alone. You were good at it. But you had a taste of companionship, of sated intellect, and you knew it was going to hurt if you had to go back to a life without it.

“If I go--to Dorne, I mean,” you started, putting your hands on Oberyn’s chest and moving your hips slightly to get more comfortable.

“Yes?” he all but begged you to continue, tightening his grip on you--if you would stop moving he could focus better on your words instead of your body.

“Where would I live?”

“In the palace,” he said simply. “In the Watergardens of the Martells--with me and Ellaria.”

“And then?” You bit your lip, knowing the question was forward to say the least. “When this is over?” You knew it was an audacious assumption to even suggest such a man commit to you in any way. But it was a valid thought. When whatever this was had run its course, would you be stuck in a strange city to fend for yourself?

“I do not offer such a thing to just anyone,” he leaned up on his elbows, bringing his face closer to yours. “If you come to Dorne, this is not something that will end. You are not something to be tossed aside.” He put his large hand through your hair at your temple, brushing it back from your face.

His words weighed heavy on your heart and you looked down at your hands on his chest. “Promise?”

He nodded with a growl and leaned forward to capture your lips in a bruising kiss that you returned equally. It didn’t answer every question you had but it was enough--at least for now. He turned you over, positioning himself on top of you as he settled between your legs. The three of you had spent the night in a triangle of tongues and hungry mouths. It was as if none of you could get enough of the taste of one another, but when it came to actually being inside you, Oberyn had held back. It was as if he worried the weight of his passion would scare you away.

“What do you say, my lioness?” he said against your throat as he licked a hot line over your pulse point. You knew it was a double edged question as his cock pressed against your abdomen and as Dorne lay waiting on the other side of the world.

You started to respond but a noise from downstairs made you stop short. A woman screamed and a few men yelled but their words were muffled by the floorboards and the stairs. Whoever it was sounded angry, that much was certain. Ellaria sat up, moving her thick curls from her eyes as she blinked, trying to clear the sleep from her vision.

"Oberyn?" She said, her voice sounding unsure for the first time since you had met her.

The two of you froze and Oberyn lifted his head from your neck slowly, listening as the sounds continued on the floor below your room. He gently untangled himself from your arms and thighs before sliding out from under the silks.

"Stay here, my love." He spoke to Ellaria, but you knew he included you in that sentence as well. Oberyn gave you one last squeeze before standing to hastily pull on the pants he was wearing the day before. He reached under his pillow and pulled out a dagger, twisting it easily in his hand until the heavy handle rested in his palm. Had that been there all night?

The door to your chambers opened abruptly and you pulled the silk blanket to your naked chest. Oberyn had placed himself between the door and the bed before it even opened--between the women in his bed and whatever was coming up the stairs. You could still peer around his muscled back as the door swung open without so much as a knock. Two members of the King's Guard placed themselves on either side of the door, parting just enough to let an armored man walk between them. His helmet was balanced on his hip under his arm, his right hand balanced on the pommel of his sword as he took in the bedroom.

He was broad, tall, and very blond. And unfortunately he was family.

"Jaime Lannister," Oberyn said, with a grin that was not at all pleasant.

You cursed quietly under your breath and looked around for your clothes but didn't want to have to get out of the bed naked to retrieve them. You silently prayed that the world would open up beneath you and whatever god deemed it so would swallow you whole.

"Oberyn Martell," Jaime said, smiling his perfect white smile in the direction of the other man. "I was under the impression you had already left for Dorne."

"Not yet," Oberyn said, as diplomatically as he could considering he still held his dagger. "I have a few more days in this lovely city."

Jaime threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, Martells have always been terrible liars."

"Our talent for bending the truth was lost to the Lannister's, I'm afraid."

Jaime's eyes grew cold and he adjusted his stance, but Oberyn wasn't done speaking.

"What brings you to my room so early, Little Lannister?" Oberyn stuck the dagger in the belt of his pants and moved to the pitcher of wine that was on the table still covered in food from the night before.

Jaime grit his teeth and his eyes fell to you for a moment once Oberyn was out of the way. "I've come to collect, (y/n)."

Oberyn paused in the pouring of his wine and looked back at the other man. "Is that so?"

"Her uncle is worried." Jaime lied, but Oberyn wasn't fooled.

"Well, you may return to the castle and inform him of her good health," the prince waved his hand in the direction of the door and moved back to stand between you and the guards.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Jaime handed his helm back to the guard on his left before taking a few steps into the room. He picked up your dress that was hanging over the fainting couch and brought it to his face, reveling in the soft fabric. "Why is it--" Jaime turned and made eye contact with you. "Whenever I'm asked to go find you...you're always on your back?"

Jaime's vile grin made your stomach drop to the floor and you gripped the sheet against your breasts tighter. This couldn't be happening again. You were suddenly much younger and in the forest back on Casterly Rock. You felt like a child. Ashamed and alone. Oberyn didn't need to fight this battle for you, it wasn't his to fight. But apparently he felt differently.

"Watch it, boy," Oberyn said darkly, his hand moving back to the dagger.

The movement caused the guards to draw their swords, metal sliding against sheath as the light caught the blades and Ellaria gasped. You couldn’t do this. You couldn't ask either of them to do this.

"Or what?" Jaime raised an eyebrow.

"I am a prince of Dorne--"

"You're not my prince," Jaime said flatly. "And this is not Dorne."

Ellaria started to reach for Oberyn but you found your voice. The cold that froze your body receded at the thought of either of them in danger because of you.

"Enough," you said, sharply. "Stop." You stood up, keeping your body covered as best you could and held your hand out to Jaime for your dress. Jaime paused for a moment before throwing it forcefully at your chest.

"Get dressed," he hissed. He jerked his head, motioning for his guards to wait outside.

You waited for Jaime to leave too but he wouldn't budge. You turned your body away from him and tried to pull the dress on without losing the sheet, starting with the sleeves. Oberyn moved around the bed to stand behind you, using his body to effectively block Jaime's gaze.

"(Y/n)," he said, lowering his voice.

"Don't," you said, refusing to look at him as hot tears burned behind your eyes. You had been stupid for staying the night, for entertaining the idea that this, whatever this was, had a chance of working. You couldn’t go to Dorne because that meant abandoning your family. And you didn’t just abandon the Lannisters. It was a foolish fantasy, but that didn’t mean it didn't hurt.

"You don't have to do this," Ellaria said, leaning across the bed and reaching for your hand. You shrugged her off and the hurt on her face felt like a dagger through your chest.

"I do." You shook your head, dropping the sheet as you pulled your dress over your ass, letting the rest of the material fall. You grabbed your bodice off the table and refused to meet the gaze of your two companions. Oberyn grabbed your forearm as you tried to walk in front of him and you bit your lip. "Oberyn please don't do this. I'm not worth it."

"Don't you dare say such things," the Prince growled and you looked away from him. You blinked slowly, refusing to let any of the tears you carefully held in spill over. He took your chin in his hand and made you look back at his handsome face. "You never answered me."

"What?" You whispered, your voice cracking no matter how tightly you clenched your jaw.

"Are you happy?" When you didn't answer, he asked again, "What do you want?"

You laughed bitterly and rubbed a tear off your cheek roughly with the palm of your hand. "I'm a Lannister, Oberyn. It doesn't matter what I want."

The sentence held a sense of finality that threatened to carve your heart in two. It didn't matter what you wanted, because the Lannister in your blood came first. It didn't matter back then and it didn't matter now. You wanted what you were made to want, it was as simple as that. Oberyn and Ellaria offered you freedom, but it was a freedom you could never have. And the sooner you made peace with that, the less it would hurt when you watched them sail away at the end of the week.

"You cannot believe that--" Oberyn tried but you leaned up on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek gently, stopping his words.

"Thank you," you said softly against his skin and he closed his eyes tightly to savor the feeling of you close to him. You were saying goodbye without actually speaking the words into existence and the pain on his face was clear.

Jaime waited by the door with a smirk on his face that you wanted to cut off with Oberyn's dagger. He extended his arm to you and you shoved it away, grabbing your shoes instead.

"Oberyn," Ellaria rose to her knees and looked at him pleadingly. She begged him wordlessly to stop this, to stop Jaime, to stop you from walking out that door and out of their safe haven.

Oberyn ignored her, knowing that in this moment he was powerless. It was a feeling that he hated. “Jaime.” He said firmly enough that the two of you stopped in the doorway. Jaime kept his grip on your arm tight as he looked back at the prince. “Tell your father I will add this to his list of sins.”

Jaime grinned. “Oh, I will.”

He pulled you through the doorway without giving you a chance to look back and you had never hated him more. You hated him that day on Casterly Rock. And you hated him now. It made your heart feel sick and shriveled.

He had little regard for the way you stumbled down the steps in your sandals that were only partially on. His grip being more than enough to keep you standing. The whores of the brothel watched as he pulled you out of the door like a lover scorned by your fornication. It was humiliating. It made your cheeks and neck burn with embarrassment when you knew you should have been worried about what would happen once you were back in the palace.

“Let go,” you grit through your teeth as the two of you made it into the street.

He mounted his horse wordlessly, throwing his leg over the beast with a grunt and adjusting the cloak that was clasped to his golden pauldrons. He offered a gloved hand down to you with a grin.

“Come on, (y/n),” he said.

You looked at his hand in disgust before looking back up at him. “I can walk back on my own, thank you.” The words sounded childish to your own ears but you couldn’t bear the idea of giving Jaime the pleasure of dragging you back to your uncle.

“I’m not asking,” he said, lowered his voice as he looked you in the eyes.

You could feel people watching the two of you. You could only imagine what it looked like to those passing by--a half-dressed woman and the Kingslayer. Taking his hand reluctantly, you let him hoist you up into the saddle in front of him with your back pressed firmly against the steel of his gilded breastplate. You put your hands gently in the mane of the white mare and looked straight ahead stubbornly ignoring everything about the man behind you.

Jaime wrapped one arm tightly around your waist as he grabbed the reins with the other. His breath was hot against your curls as he whispered in your ear. “See? That wasn’t hard. Since we seem to be making a habit of this, it would be more fun if you weren’t such a frigid bitch.”

He licked the shell of your ear and you jerked your head away from him in disgust. It made him chuckle as he clicked his heels against the animal’s haunches and the rest of the King’s Guard followed suit.

Against your better judgement, you looked up at the second floor of the brothel, easily finding the window to the bedroom you had practically spent the last few days in. Not surprisingly, you found Oberyn staring out at you, his face was stoic but he couldn’t keep the pain he felt in his chest out of his eyes. Ellaria had her arms wrapped around his bicep, looking down at you in much the same way, before she glanced at Jamie and her expression turned venomous. Your heart lightened ever so slightly because you knew...this wasn’t over.

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[Next Chapter]

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#prince oberyn #oberyn martell #oberyn x reader #oberyn x ellaria #oberyn x ellaria x reader #ellaria sand #game of thrones #got #Pedro pascal #pedro character fic #footprints in the sand #oberyn is pissed AF #yall BETTER BELIEVE

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senchoubutter · 4 years ago

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Twisted Wonderland Guys As Kpop Songs I Listen To Too Much + Why

i’ma just say it now, i primarily listen to girl groups since I cover songs and they are in my range and i find them fun to cover most so expect a lot of those.

All songs are linked!!

Scarabia

Jamil

- Lucifer by SHINee || First and foremost I can see him performing this, easily. Aside from that, the song is tasty and classic. Jamil is a smart attractive man that is incredibly talented despite flying under the radar. People know of him but don’t take note until they know him, similarly to this song. It goes hard and you’ve probs heard it mentioned but you haven’t experienced until you played it at 3 am, screaming your heart out. Get to know Jamil and he ain’t just “some guy”

Kalim

- Um Oh Ah Yeh by MAMAMOO || This song reminds me of the 90s/2000s and there’s something about Kalim that also does that for me. Maybe it’s the not a care in the world disposition. I can see and feel in the second verse’s rap, Kalim’s warm smile. I can imagine him grabbing my hand, telling me to chin up. The choruses make me think of simpler times. Finally, Kalim seems like he’s always having a good time just like this song

Ignihyde

Ortho

- Candy Pop by TWICE (yes i know its jp) || This song always puts me in a good mood. It makes me feel warm inside and like everything will work out. When I see Ortho, I feel the need to protect him but also can’t help but feel like everything will be okay. Something about him brings a happy, warm peace to my heart that reminds me to just take a moment and find the good in life. The peppy beat of it just makes me think about how he almost always is smiling!

Idia

- Fairy of Shampoo by TOMORROW X TOGETHER || the song starts an I feel as if I’ve awoken floating in the deep sea, but i’m not scared. I feel at peace and as if I’ve been here before. The song tastes like iced tea and feels like nostalgia. When I look at Idia I see my past self and even present self. I’m afraid, I want to hide. The feelings the verses gives me reminds me of laying in bed, curled up in a jacket that hides my whole body, similarly to Idia’s. The song and Idia’s character call out to a nostalgic but soft side to a distant past I can’t recall. I want to stay with them until I can remember

Savanaclaw

Leona

- gogobebe by MAMAMOO || It’s got a lazy but sexy sound that Leona emboides. When the song picks up in the choruses it’s like it takes over your body, drowning the listener in an ocean of sensuality and playful teasing. It’s got a lil edge though too that caters to the gruff “fuck off” expression he has. I see the noise Hwasa makes at the end as the wanton but confused noise fans make as the man leaves, tail swinging after teasing them

Ruggie

- BAAM by Momoland || BAAM has such a sassy hyped up beat that screams a bitch that gets shit done, owns who they are, and lives life having fun. And it embodies everything I feel upon seeing Ruggie's smug smile. Even the rap bit during the second chorus has the sass and done-ness of “Leona-san! Get up!!”

Jack

- Bomb by AleXa || This song kicks your ass and so does Jack. Don’t for four seconds think he won’t beat the shit outta ya for underestimating him, similarly to AleXa and her music. The energy and the “I’ll show you” vibes remind me of this big dweeb. I would fear this man but turn to love him much like how I felt about this song as it was this artist’s first song. How do I say they just embody each other in my opinion lol

Pomefiore

Vil

- DUN DUN by Everglow || The sass. This song screams THAT BITCH, just like Vil’s everything. The way he carries himself is personified in this song. The power the song holds reminds me of his unique magic and how intense it is. Finally, the slower bridge is mythical and light as if giving the listener a feeling like they are walking on air and plays to the softer and more feminine side of Vil

Rook

- FINGERTIP by GFriend || Everything about this song is exciting. It’s suspenseful and alluring. If this song was a person, I could clear as day see it winking, whispering “chase me.” And that is exactly Rook’s brand of teasing and games. He’s a hunter but he’s got a charming aura to him still. This song wraps both of those things into it. The dance break is Rook’s darker senses personified. Umji’s lil “OW!” is he’s cute lil remarks in french, throwing you off now and then. But by the end of the song, you’re used to them and adore them

Epel

- Crossroads by GFriend || This song feels like a long lost friend that visits you in dreams. You can practically reach out to them but just as you do, you wake up. But you’re determined. That alone reminds me of Epel’s character as a whole. He doesn’t let his cute appearance push aside his wants and needs to be this tough guy. He, like Yuju’s strong vocals at the last chorus, presses on, determined each time he gets knocked down

Diasomnia

Lilia

- Deja Vu by Dreamcatcher || Maybe I’m biased cause I’ve covered this but this song is breathtaking. The melody speaks of a long road and the fight to keep on which I feel rings true for Lilia. We don’t know his true age but it’s clear he’s been around for quite a wild and the pain he’s probably gone through is unspeakable. He has stories galore and so much experience in life. I feel this song encapsulates a lot of what can only be speculated about him

Silver

- Crème Brûlée by GFriend || the soft, sweet song is addictive and cutesy. I feel Silver gets written off or ignored often, similarly to this song on the album. Sure he may not be god or a bad bad bitch, but he has his own warmth to him. Like this song, Silver makes me wanna curl up under a tree on an August evening and just take in life, making sure to breathe for once, releasing unnecessary tension and stress.

Sebek

- Black Dress by CLC || Sebek is very interesting to me and when he blushes, my whole heart stops for a second. It’s similar to how when they build up to the chorus‘s first Black Dress and the music stops for like a split second. Sebek isn’t my favorite but isn’t my least favorite. I like him more than some though, I’d say. I’d say the same goes for this song. I love CLC, this isn’t my top song of theirs but I still like it a lot. There’s something uniform about the beat that resounds with Sebek as getting shit done in mind also. Sometimes a song just makes you think of a character and you can’t perfectly explain it

Malleus

- Pretty Savage by BLACKPINK || Yes i know t’s only recently come out as i post this, but this bad boy on replay. The beat isn’t crazy upbeat but it’s interesting. Malleus intidimates me in general cause of his aura, and while I love this song a lot rn, it was very intimidating at first. It still has some “don’t come near me” energy. The slower bridge bit calls to his stoic expression, melodic and pretty

Heartslabyul

Cater

- ICY by ITZY || I’ll be honest both Cater as well as this song were things I thought at first were just meh, okay. But as time went on both grew on me. Now that’s not the only reason though I associate this with him. The, no pun intended, ice shattering sound of the song gives me friendly popular girl that seems to be buds with 80% of the school. This is the very vibe Cater always gives me. He wants to just have a good, happy life. Also the song is a “so what? I’m hot. Get over it.” vibe like Cater

Ace

- Drama by TOMORROW X TOGETHER || Ace reminds me the guy you fall in love with in high school and you no it’s not going to last but you let yourself get taken away with. Drama feels like a soundtrack of every fun adventure Ace goes on, no matter the trouble that he may get on. It’s fun beat just brings me back to skipping school, running to my car and trying to sneak away without getting caught. The thought of Ace at my side, would shoot my adrenaline through the roof just like the high note of the song

Deuce

- God’s Menu by Stray Kids || Deuce is just ready to go swinging and that’s exactly what this song is. Elbows up and out, head down, swinging without a clue. The intensity and fire of it speaks to that fire in him. Meanwhile the prechoruses are soft and pleasant almost like it’s not the same song, alluding to that cute lil smile he has got

Trey

- REALLY REALLY by WINNER || Similarly to Ace, this song reminds me of a guy you fall for, but in college rather than high school. Everything about the song and Trey just feels right. The choruses hold your hand and fits perfectly in yours. They know what to say to make everything okay. It may not last, but you sure hope it does and will love them like it will. And while Trey isn’t my number one boy, those are the exact feelings I have about him too. Finally, the rap part reminds me of Trey’s more sadistic side, it bites and you may not think it fits entirely but the more familiar you get with them, the more both fit and you don’t mind it entirely

Riddle

- Wonderland by ATEEZ || The demanding nature of the song makes me think of Riddle immediately. It’s intense and doesn’t mess around; it wants what it wants. Riddle is a rule based person and this song is rather militaristic aesthetically. The bridge though, is so regal and breathtaking. It could stop time. Riddle, despite the kind of guy he is, is the same way. The power he holds is impressive and admirable. This description may seem kinda like I’m shitting on him and see him solely as a rule boy, but like this song, I have made respect for him and wouldn’t want to cross him

Octavinelle

Azul

- Love Battery by Hong Jin Young but performed by LOONA on Immortal Songs || This arrangement of the song has a certain magic to it that I melt in. At the very beginning as the build up singing ‘dangsineun’ i feel like I’m being submerged in a wave, reaching to shake Azul’s hand, signing a contract. The choruses remind me of his smile, how distant but inviting it is. Daring me to fall for him. The dance break bridge reminds me of the intense eyes behind those glasses

Jade

- Love Shot by EXO || This song and Jade are both things I am fearful of but greatly intrigued by. They share a scary beat and energy that says I fear you more when you’re smiling. Please stop slowly walking towards me, you’re scaring me. But at the very same time, the choruses keep me around like how pretty I find this twin. The combo of put together, intellectual friend but could kill easily and without remorse sends shivers down my spine if I think about it for too long. The chorus of this song make me shake my shoulders that suppress a shiver each time

Floyd

- WEE WOO by Pristin || I love both Floyd and WEE WOO. The song is the feeling you get going 85 down the highway. Both song and Floyd, get me excited. They feel like the weekend. That feeling of coming home Friday during high school, tossing your bookbag down, and getting ready to hang out with your best friend. It’s a relieving and exciting feeling. It’s a peppy beat that bites during the harmonies a bit. Just like Floyd. Peppy, fun, but ain’t afraid to take a lil nibble

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theepsizet · 4 years ago

Text

Let’s talk about Allison and Tom

There’s been a discussion regarding these two characters: an Alice and her Boris and there’s also been a lot of theories regarding them and/or their identities. So this post is basically me slapping my thoughts on the table. And here it is:

Allison Angel and Tom!Boris are in fact Allison Pendle and Thomas Connor. But you can’t take everything about them presented in BATIM for granted.

This theory first came from this video by MatPat, whose main subject was to discuss Henry and even had good backing reasoning/evidence for his status and what-he-is in-game. He also mentions how Allison and Tom’s names aren’t on coffins and therefore can’t be Allison Pendle and Thomas Connor. If anything, they’re actually soulless; Joey was unable to get their souls.

First problem: MatPat completely glosses over a detail confirmed by Joey in Chapter 5 from this audio log:

“Listen Tommy, I know you boys over at Gent are doing your best, but I'm paying for living attractions, not weird abominations! Whatever that grinning thing was I saw wandering around your office, you better keep it locked up tight! I realize it was a first attempt but imagine if the press caught sight of it! Might scare off investors! And in response to your previous memo: If you claim your failures are because these things are soulless, then, damn it, we'll get them a soul! After all, I own thousands of 'em!”

Did you get that? The reason Ink Bendy is off-model is because he doesn’t possess a soul. If they were soulless, Allison and Tom would look... pretty demonic. But they’re not; they’re on-model, resembling their cartoon counterparts near-perfectly (the biggest difference is, of course, their attire such as Allison’s ponytail and dress and Tom’s robotic arm)

Second problem: He never explains why their names are Allison Angel and Tom. MatPat doesn’t elaborate on this fact and just calls them that and moves on with the video.

So, my take. The game files reveal unused secret messages, and these messages do in fact reveal that Allison and Tom’s names are absent; confirming that they don’t have coffins:

(originally posted by thedreamfisher)

So, they’re alive, right? Well...

In Chapter 4 there’s an audio log labeled “Untitled”. The entire audio log is just somebody gruesomely transforming into an ink monster, most likely a searcher if one goes off of the moaning. According to the game files, its Grant Cohen. Not to mention, in the first BATDR gameplay trailer, look what happens to Audrey’s hand when she uses her power:

(originally posted by thedreamfisher)

When Audrey uses her power, her hand changes. It literally turns into ink. Both these scenarios confirm that killing people and stuffing their souls through a machine isn’t the only way to reincarnate people as living cartoons. My theory is that at some point, Allison Connor exchanged enough letters with Joey that he could convince her and Thomas to return to the studio. Similar to Henry, they became so exposed to the ink that it literally transformed them into perfect toons. They were then reborn from the ink produced by the Giant Machine (we’ll get back to this). The dark truth is that, Allison Angel and Tom!Boris are Joey’s best outcomes from his experiment. Not to mention, Allison says this to Henry:

“I... I honestly don't know my name. So they call me Alice.”

“He [Tom] just seems to respond to it [his name].”

It’s a fact that the ink corrupts the mind. Sammy’s Hot Topic Q&A confirms that his memory deteriorated, and considering that these answers come from when Sammy is The Prophet, it wouldn’t be too unlikely to conclude that the ink did this to him. So, when Allison and Tom were reborn, the ink corrupted their minds so much they basically became amnesiac.

Speaking of reborn, notice what Allison says when talking about the ink in general and why she can’t come with Henry for the final battle:

“...you don't want to touch the ink for too long. It can claim you, pull you back.”

“We can't! We're not like you, Henry. If we go in there, well... a drop of water in the ocean is never seen again.”

It wouldn’t be surprising that they were born out of the bigger ink machine (and we have now officially come back to this). Given its size, the smaller one — the actual one, the one that — wouldn’t be able to produce enough ink to fill entire caverns (the underground levels). It also makes a lot of sense given the context: too much ink would make them unable to fight back, and too little wouldn’t do much effect at all. Both would literally become a drop of water in the ocean if they went with Henry. Not to mention that the first phrase is similar to part of Twisted Alice’s monologue when Henry enters her lair:

“Take this little freak for instance! He crawled in here... trailing his tainted ink to my door! It could have touched me! It could have pulled me back! Do you know what it's like? Living in the dark puddles? It's a buzzing, screaming well of voices! Bits of your mind, swimming like, like fish in a bowl! The first time I was born from its' inky womb, I was a wriggling, pussing, shapeless slug. The second time... well... it made me an angel! I will not let the demon touch me again.”

Now, here’s what I mean when I say you can’t take every word of there’s for granted. The truth is that it’s entirely clear what their motivations and there are several instances where things seem highly suspicious regarding these two:

In Allison and Tom’s hideout, Allison’s graffiti contains a list of levels that are crossed out. If one reviews the cutscene at the beginning of the chapter, it is revelated that throughout Henry’s time as prisoner, the levels are listed and then crossed out, as well as more of her drawings being inscribed onto the walls. It’s almost like they’re looking for something

There’s, weirdly enough, graffiti of the Seeing Tool outside the Administration Lobby. Were they done in that level before? If not, why is it there?

Considering that both of them are pretty experienced around the studio (Allison does know what the Lost Harbor is, and is a professional swordsmaster), Allison doesn’t even use her sword to slice off the boards of the prison cell door. Tom even has an axe and doesn’t do anything.

Tom starts off completely distrustful and treating Henry through spite. He almost immediately becomes part of Henry’s side.

Allison asks Henry to lead the way down the floorless hall. Even after she calls out his name, she doesn’t really grab on top him; she just let’s him fall (although this statement is confusing on its own as Henry falls way to fast for him to look up and see their reactions; its probably not even possible to see their reactions without hacking)

(originally posted on this page and this page of the Bendy wiki)

@thedreamfisher suggests that they could be manipulating Henry. and to be honest, yeah... that’s exactly what they’re doing. Why they’re doing it, though, is difficult to pin down, but my theory — yes, that is the theory part — is maybe because of one obvious fact: Henry isn’t like them at all. Allison even says this is why she and Tom can’t really trust them, and Twisted Alice confirms he’s “so interesting... so different...”. Compare this to the way Allison talks to Audrey in the BATDR trailers (this and this). She’s a lot more open, honest, more like a mentor and willing to tell her a lot more than she would to Henry, possibly because she resembles that of a lost one (why Henry’s avatar is completely invisible when hacking and what is a subject to debate for another time).

Allison knows Henry is different and may be manipulating Henry because she wants to turn off the machine. Tom too. Why do you think she calls him “the hope [she’s] been waiting for” and tells him that he “[can] set [them] free”. But, here’s the catch: this doesn’t make them bad. There’s been a number of theories that they’re bad people, but this manipulation only shows they have good intentions; if anything, they’re more of the most basic, generic definition of antihero.

And this makes even more sense when the conversation between Buddy Lewek, Allison Pendle, and Thomas Connor is reviewed in Chapter. It’s a lot of dialogue, and I’m not going to copy and paste the entire thing, but the most important anecdotes is that they hint to have more knowledge of the machine and its functions than the average employee. They also imply two things: they seem to be aware of Susie’s fate (most likely what happened after Joey gave her an offer hinted in audio logs in Chapter 4 and 5) and that they can’t stop Joey at all. It’s hinted by Allison that she and Tom both needed the job, and that they committed to his decisions because of the pay. Tom mentions how Joey treated him well, and Joey claims from a memo to clipped in the Joey Drew Studios Employee Handbook that he’s fascinated by Allison and her personality.

So... yeah. That’s it. Feel free to comment.

(One-finale note: The idea/credit of Allison and Tom being born out of the bigger ink machine and the manipulation aspect all goes to thedreamfisher. Do not give me credit for this idea)

#BATIM #bendy theory #allison angel #tom #thomas connor

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lu-undy · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 83 - SBT

Here it is!

"The tea's the same…"

Mundy's fingers were still shaking on the tea cup. Caroline gave a short chuckle.

"Of course it is. Your father likes it as much as he hates to change his habits, eh, Mike?"

"Guess so." Mike answered.

"So tell me…" Mundy frowned. "Were you just… here, all these years?"

"Yeah, we were." Mike answered.

"How did you survive?" Mundy put the tea cup back on the coffee table. "Why didn't you say anythin'? How did you find me?"

Mike sighed.

"Tell him, Mike." Caroline pushed him.

"Right…" Mike scratched his almost bald head. "All the answers to your questions are the same, it's thanks to Maurice. Remember Maurice, the beggar?"

"Yeah…?" Mundy raised a surprised eyebrow.

"Well, he got us out of trouble, your mum and I, before it was too late and just in time."

"How? And hold on, I've been working with him last year, he didn't say anything!" Mundy burst out.

"Calm down, Micky, listen to your dad."

Mundy calmed his voice but didn't manage to calm his racing heart and breath. So Maurice knew in all that time and he said nothing?!

"Well, here's what happened. That day, when those thugs set everything on fire, your mum and I quickly realised there wasn't much we could do or save. We tried to make it out and we did but not without a fight. I grabbed the rifle that we had and shot in the air, trying to scare whoever was burning everythin' up. It did the trick for a few seconds that were barely enough for us to run and hide reasonably out of sight, in the bush."

Mundy drank his father's words like gospel while his mother held his hand to calm his trembling fingers.

"We watched everything we had just burn and fall. Your mother here cried every tear in her body. We felt terrible for the chickens and geese, and we hoped they managed to run away even though we knew there wasn't much room for an escape for them." Mike paused to catch his breath. "Your mum and I stayed low in the bush, waiting for it to pass and to finally come out of hiding but before we did, a young man found us. God forgive me, I almost shot him. He was one of Maurice's."

"How did he end up there?" Mundy asked.

"Turns out Maurice was watchin' over us."

"Why?"

"Cause we were good people to him. He was just keepin' an eye on us and we never knew but God, did it save our lives. The young guy stayed with us and dragged us away to safety, in an old 4x4. He apparently had a shed in the bush. He drove us to town and hid us away for a while, in an old, abandoned house. Your mum and I stayed there for a while, bein’ fed with other poor souls. Your mum helped the kids, I repaired the odd broken thing. We only survived thanks to Maurice.”

“How did you end up in this house?” Mundy asked.

“The problem was the money. See, cause we were officially declared… dead, I stopped receivin’ my pension. Couldn’t get access to any money and whatever little amount of savings we had. But again, somehow Maurice sorted it out and put us again to safety in this house. We changed names and hid here.”

"Hold on," Mundy frowned. "You knew I was alive, right?"

"Yeah, I mean, you were off for a contract and not with us. Unless the thugs had somethin' against us personally, they wouldn't go after you." Mike answered.

"And we asked Maurice, he said you were fine." Caroline added.

"Why didn't you or him tell me?!" Mundy exclaimed. "D'you know what it's been like after you died? D'you have any idea what I've gone through without you?!" He roared.

"Micky, sweetie…" Caroline put his cup of tea away and lowered her head.

"After a few days with Maurice, he discovered that the reason why the house and farm were burnt was because the blokes sending us letters relentlessly to get us out and drill for oil had gone impatient. I wanted to report everything but Maurice said that if that bloke was able to burn property and decent folks for it without fear, chances are regular police couldn't do anything against him. Apparently, he'd heard of the guy, he'd robbed a chain of banks in France a few months before and no one managed to catch him!"

Mundy remembered Lucien telling him that Marie and Jeremy got killed because some robbers were being chased by the police. Yeah, Duchemin was in France, robbed a few banks and flew to Oz where he started digging for oil.

"But why not tell me?!"

"Because that would give us away!" Mike answered. "If we're alive, chances are, we'd try and claim our property back and they'd never stop chasing us!"

"But… But… I'd have hidden with you! I'd have helped you out! I'd have…!"

"Micky, we feared too much for our lives." Caroline added. "We dressed and lived like beggars to be able to survive, and it worked, while Maurice tried to sort out our money. God only knows how he did it but bless his soul."

"Enough about Maurice! I could have done that if you had just told me!" Mundy stood off of the sofa and started pacing the room to calm the rage boiling in him. "I could have helped! I'm your bloody son, a grown up and able man, aren't I?!"

Caroline shook her head while still lowered.

"Son," Mike stood up. "Your mum and I wanted to protect ourselves and protect you! We didn't want any shady criminal to run after us or after you! Cause he could, eh! He could just track us down, your mum, you and I until he puts us in the ground himself! Is that what you'd have preferred?!"

"No!" Mundy shouted back. "But just tell me! What would it have cost to send me a word, a letter, anything?!"

"Mundy, your mother couldn't eat and sleep for days! We were close to getting her to a hospital, her nerves were so thin! But we couldn't afford it! Not as long as our names hadn't been changed! We went through hell and back, son! Don't you dare think that we did what we did because it was easy!"

"Yeah well in the end, it bloody was, wasn't it?! Hiding here for more than ten years!"

"And how hard would it have been for you to leave your bloody rifles home and do honest work, hm? Earn decent money and watch after your old folks?! But no! Mister Mundy wanted to save the animals more than he wanted to actually live a normal life!"

Caroline put a hand in front of her mouth and another one on her cheek. Not even an hour spent together and Mike and Mundy were already arguing…

"That was my job, Dad, a job that no one else could do or did do!"

"Well, wasn't there a reason for that?! You were sticking your neck out and asking to be shot down like those beasts you were protectin' better than your own parents!"

"No! I was doin' the only thing I could do! Back then, I didn't know anythin' else but shoot a rifle!"

"O'course you did! What about the saxophone? What about the farm? You knew how to deal with them and you were good at it! Besides, you sayin' that in the past? You don't hunt anymore? Finally came around to learnin' some proper job and droppin' the guns?"

Mundy's jaw clenched harder.

"Course I ditched the bloody things! What did you think? That I'd go on huntin'? Ya said it yourself, I was miles away when you needed me, felt awful!"

"Shame it didn't feel awful sooner." Mike concluded coldly, his voice down to its normal volume.

Mundy stared at him for a while, overwhelmed by what just happened and starting to process it against his own will. Gosh, his father still couldn't understand, could he?

The Aussie's eyes went to his mother and it broke him. She was giving him the same eyes that she always had, the same eyes that pleaded for them both to stop arguing for the billionth time. Mundy sighed and exited the house. He walked in the street, fuming.

He didn't want to go back home and face Lucien and his million questions. He didn't want to have to tell the story and feel all of it again. No. So Mundy put his hands in his pockets and walked back in the direction of the city.

Gosh… What a day…

If someone had told him his parents were alive and he would see them again, Mundy would certainly expect tears and hugs, not an argument. Well, both happened in the end. He should have left before asking any questions, he shouldn't have gone that way. Yeah, alright, that's plain stupid! Of course he had to ask! People don't go and die only to come back to life!

Oh.

Yes, yes, they did.

Lucien first, and now his parents. Yes, they did. What the hell…?

Mundy's feet soon led him into the city. He walked with his head low, not seeing the passer-bys, the shops, the cars and traffic. For him, there were only his brown boots and the grey pavement.

Hold on. His father had said that his mother was nearly taken to the hospital after the events…? Gosh. Mundy screwed his eyes shut as he imagined the pain and distress his mother had to endure. Fuck! It was always the same, wasn't it? Mundy and his father argue while Caroline sits on the side with enough sadness in her eyes to fill the ocean twice!

Mundy felt it in him. If he could, he would at least pretend to get along well with his father, just for his mother's sake. But Mike always found the words, he always found the way to rub salt into the wound. It was ridiculous… More than ten years apart and they still couldn't have a decent conversation. And what ten years, eh? Mundy didn't even have the chance to tell them that he too had died for ten years, that it had taken him that amount of time to heal and manage to turn the page. That, and Lucien.

Mundy stopped walking sharp and blinked a few times to finally look around him and make his brain accept external stimuli, wake up his ears and all his senses.

Lucien.

When Mundy's parents died, the Aussie's heart was left empty until he saw that stunning Frenchman sing at the Queen Victoria. And Mundy had gone there because of a blue and golden cufflink, where Johnson's alligators had been stolen. Gosh it seemed all so far now, almost as if it was a dream, and it hadn't really happened.

Mundy sighed. Lucien had taken all the space in his heart and his mind now. Mundy was far from unhappy with it, he loved him with all his heart, so to speak. Hm. He wondered what he was up to, without dwelling on it too much. The Aussie didn't want to go back home yet, so he went on walking in the streets.

Unbeknownst to him, Lucien had driven back to Mundy's parents. He waited there but Mundy wasn't exiting the place. Hm. He decided to have a look inside. Carefully, the ex-spy approached the house and made sure that no one would see even just his shadow passing by, through the windows. He got closer to one of the living-room ones and discreetly took a peek.

"Oh…"

Caroline was on the sofa and Mike was facing the fireplace. Both held their heads lowered. Lucien could see they were talking but it was low enough for the window to muffle the content of their conversation almost completely. The Frenchman squinted to read on their lips.

"I know, Caroline. But it's the truth."

"Mike… Come on."

Lucien had seen enough. The disappointment on Mundy's parents’ faces was clear enough, the reunion hadn't been a success. He needed to find Mundy.

He hopped on his motorcycle and headed back home and unlocked the door.

"Mundy?"

"Meow…" Perle and Soot came trotting to Lucien and brushed themselves on his legs.

"Mundy?" Lucien looked in the living-room, the kitchen, the bedroom and even the bathroom.

"Mundy n'est pas rentré?"

[Hasn't Mundy come back home yet?]

"Meow." Perle answered and he sighed.

"Où est-il alors?"

[Where is he then?]

Lucien looked through a window and saw the orange sky of the setting sun, turning the street in warm colours, while in his heart he wondered about his lover.

Much further away from their home, Mundy was wandering in the streets. He let his feet decide where he needed to go while his head ground on his conversation with his parents and played it on loop, like a broken disc.

He didn't notice the streets turning orange under the setting sun and his shadow flowing longer on the pavement. His eyes were glued to the ground and he carefully avoided a beggar sitting there - oh!

He turned back and looked down at the man in rags.

"You with Maurice?"

The beggar ignored him.

"Look up, mate. I'm M, work with Maurice. I probably served you soup over the past few months."

The beggar looked up.

"Oh, sorry mate…" He stood up and pulled his trousers up, adjusting them. "Wanted to see Maurice?"

"Yeah."

"Last I knew he was home, go ahead."

"Thanks."

Mundy headed for the dirty neighbourhood and walked straight to a house. A beggar let him through underground and by the time he arrived at the door behind which Maurice was, his mind was set.

"Maurice's is busy, mate."

The well-built man at the door said.

"Listen, you either let me in now or I swear you won't wake up to see the light of the day tomorrow."

"I'm sorry but-"

"Did I bloody stutter?" Mundy asked with his jaw clenched and every vein in his body pumping blood fast.

The muscular bodyguard remembered that the last time someone had insisted on entering the room like that, the man was even smaller than the one he was facing, and maybe even slimmer. But he somehow ended up unable to use his voice for days and a bad throat for equally longer.

"Right…" He took a step aside and Mundy stormed in the room.

"Maurice!"

"Mundy, I am already meeting someone, pray take a seat and - argh?!"

Mundy had walked straight to the tall beggar who was indeed meeting someone else. He shoved whoever that was aside and took Maurice by his collar, he pushed him on the wall and went to the tip of his toes, his canines shining fiercely under the low light of the room with the oval table.

"What…? What's wrong with you…?" Maurice tried to speak while his throat was crushed by Mundy's knuckles.

"Me?! What's wrong with me?! That's rich comin' the one bloke who's been lying to me for more than ten years!"

"Gnh-! Y-you saw them - argh?!"

"Yeah! Lu' took me to them! You knew for ten years and I saw my parents, yeah! Give me one good reason to not pop your teeth out right here and now, just one!"

"Have you… Ever asked L… when… he knew…?"

Mundy released his grip on Maurice and the tall beggar fell to the floor, a hand to his throat.

"No." Mundy answered. "But I don't need to!" He pulled Maurice back up to his feet from his collar and pushed him hard against the wall again. His back hit the wall with a muffled thud. "Why didn't you tell me? Why?!"

"Because you would have blown their cover! I was trying to keep them safe, Mundy!"

"You could have told me! What harm would it have done to them! None!" Mundy roared back.

"You are wrong, mon loup."

[My wolf.]

Hearing the voice with the French accent made Mundy spin on his heels. Lucien was at the door. He crossed the room and undid the button of his jacket with one hand, fluidly.

"What would have happened if Maurice had told you that your parents were still alive?"

"I…" Mundy's whole attention was on Lucien, and his hands let go of Maurice again, who flopped to the floor. "I'd have tried to get who did this…"

"And what if you had found him, how would you have dealt with him? By reporting him to the authorities?" Lucien went on as he now stood only a metre away from Mundy.

"Guess so, yeah."

"I would have told you to not do it." Maurice's voice was thin and he could barely speak. He gathered what little strength Mundy had spared in him and pushed himself to stand on his two feet. "I'd have told you… No police could deal with him… And if you had found him, we would have before you. From there, we can assume that L would have dealt with him before you could."

"But both of us were mourning." Lucien looked up at his lover and put a hand on his cheek, brushing it gently with his thumb. "Mourning and healing. So what would have happened to the young and wild Mundy, hm? At best, he would have gone on a wild duck chase and ended up empty-handed because someone else would have dealt with Duchemin. At worst, you would have ended up killed before you could even catch a glimpse of him. After that, your parents' days would have been numbered. Duchemin would have enquired about you and found that you are the son of those poor farmers he thought he had killed." Lucien paused to catch his breath. "By lying to you, Maurice saved you and your parents."

"But… Hold on…" Mundy turned to Maurice who had sat on his wooden throne. "Why did you help me get Duchemin if that could have killed me and my family?"

"Because he knew that I would get him before you do." Lucien answered and Mundy's head swooshed back to his lover. "I would get him before you do, and the difference is that this was my mission, I signed for it and was paid for it. If I died because of it, so be it, that was a risk that I gladly took. But you? You were asking for nothing but justice for your parents."

The Frenchman adjusted the collar of Mundy's polo shirt and splayed his hand on his chest. He raised his doe eyes to him and Mundy's mind imploded. He didn't know what to think anymore.

"Follow me."

The next thing he knew, Mundy was back home, lying on the sofa with his head on Lucien's lap. The Frenchman played with his lover's soft, brown locks of hair between his slim fingers.

"Tell me, mon amour."

[My love]

"I… I don't know what to think… I just wanna sleep and forget it all."

"Why?"

Mundy frowned.

"Because… It was horrible…" Mundy turned and laced his arms around Lucien's waist, burying his head in Lucien's lower abdomen. He held him dearly and curled his long legs on himself as he closed his eyes.

"What happened?"

"Don't wanna talk about it…"

"As you wish." Lucien kept brushing his lover's hair and put his other hand on his back. Perle and Soot jumped on Mundy and laid on him, to warm him up. They brushed themselves against him and purred. "Je suis là pour toi, mon amour. Tu peux tout me dire…"

[I am here for you, my love. You can tell me anything…]

"I know…" Mundy mumbled. "Thanks, luv'..."

And Lucien heard the sound of a kiss that he felt on his shirt, on his abdomen. He smiled.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #SBT

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