#i’m teetering between anger and crushing sadness
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feyres-divorce-lawyer · 1 year ago
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VAISRA YOU LITTLE BITCH I HOPE SHE FLAMBÉS YOUR TRAITOROUS HEART AND EATS IT. AND NEZHA WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!!!!
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the cike🥲
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revelboo · 2 months ago
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Your ongoing Starscream thing is SO GOOD literally you write his inner conflict so well. Chefs kiss. I desperately crave a happy ending, but for now I’m content to see the sadness drag on.
Also, reader has friends (sort of?) now! Yay! Kinda wanna make low effort art of the cassettes showing Starscream a shitty PowerPoint presentation about how humans are sentient hmm. It’s written in cybertronian comic sans and has all the animation effects between slides
Thanks! Go for it, cause that sounds awesome 😆 And yes, reader now has friends/ terrible influences that are most likely, definitely, going to get them in trouble.
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Everything is Alright pt 16
Starscream x Reader-unraveling
• Starscream’s only dimly aware of his fellow Decepticons moving out of his way as he stalks the halls. Of the looks. Those might be because his weapons are charged and humming or the rictus of a smile stretching his lips in a denta baring snarl. Let them be afraid. Whoever has stolen from him certainly will be before it’s over. He’s coming apart at the seams, held together with hatred and fear.
• Apparently word that he’s on the war path is spreading. The deeper he moves into the warren of halls and corridors, the fewer Decepticons he’s seeing. And the more unstable he feels. He’s walking a thin line now, processor snarling with scenarios custom designed just to hurt him. Teetering between fury and crippling anxiety, his wings are the only thing giving away the latter. That stupid tremor he can’t stop or control.
• There ahead. Voices. Soundwave’s cassettes? Lazerbeak swoops out of a hall leading the little group of miscreants, but it’s Frenzy his optics land on. The cassetticon’s hand firmly wrapped around a fragile little wrist to pull you along with him and the others as they run. It’s the smile on your face that freezes the energon coursing through him. You’re not only smiling, you’re laughing. Had your expression ever been that open and warm for him?
• Stopping suddenly in front of you without warning, you smack right into Frenzy’s back with a yelp. You shove away from him angrily and realize all the cassettes are still. Quiet. Skin crawling, you turn to see what’s got them on alert and- oh. Starscream. And he looks furious. Your breath catches as you just stare at him, a rabbit confronted with a hungry coyote. Common sense is screaming to run, because that anger is aimed right at you, but your body isn’t on board with the plan.
• And then Frenzy’s hand lands in the middle of your back. “Sorry, squishy,” he says, shoving you toward the Seeker as he and the other cassettes just bail. Abandoning you to Starscream. You stumble forward and fall down, palms and knees smacking the hard, metal floor. You keep your head down as he stalks forward, feeling the faint vibration of his steps. Then he’s just standing there over you. Intimidating and furious, and you can’t make a sound. Can barely breathe.
• You still won’t look at him and it’s twisting inside him into a seething miasma of confused anger. He wants to lash out, but doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s alone. You’re his. You hate him. He needs you anyway. Venting roughly, he kneels to carefully curl his servos around your unresisting form to lift you. You’re trembling and that fear unravels him faster as he cradles you to his chassis and heads back to his quarters, denta grinding.
• Why isn’t he yelling? Almost afraid to move in his careful but firm grip, you risk a glance up at his face. There’s definitely going to be yelling, his denta are bared in a grimace as he walks. He doesn’t look at you, though and that just makes you feel more jittery with anxiety. Had you finally pushed him too far? That dark, furious silence smothers you as you shiver in his grip.
• He carries you to the berth, his servos flexing around you. Tightening. And that kicks the panic into high gear, because you’re not sure what he’s going to do. Gasping, you go wild twisting and clawing to get free. Anything but be crushed. “Stop,” he growls, that furious edge just making you more frantic. “I said stop.”
• “Please stop.” That breaches the panic, those angry and so tired words. A request not a demand as he presses you to his chassis alongside his canopy and you can suddenly breathe again. Can feel the barely there tremor in his servos. “I thought you were gone.”
• Cheek pressed against his canopy, you crane your neck to try and see his expression, because this is new. Raw and painful and you need to see his face. It almost sounds like he does care. That you’re not just a pet or a possession. Something more even if you have no idea in what way. His palm shifts against you, keeping you pinned and unable to really see his face as he lets his head fall back against the wall the berth is against. You can hear him venting, that rough rhythm slowly evening out. Calming and you can’t hold onto your own anger at him, can feel it slipping through your fingers, because as awful as he sometimes is, he needs you. You don’t really understand it, but you do understand that you’re as trapped by whatever this is as he is.
• His venting hitches as you lay a tiny, soft palm against his canopy. “I’m not going anywhere.” The words are soft. And even if they might be a lie, he needs them. He needs this even if it can only hurt him.
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merakiui · 4 years ago
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I was wondering I read the Xiao x a sucidal reader and I was wondering if you could do a imagine for that if this is too much please don’t and stay safe drink water and eat and please enjoy your day ^^
Lantern Rite Wishes
xiao x (gender neutral) reader cw: suicide, depression, angst note - somehow the imagine became longer than intended (・・;)
He was just going to get some fresh air and then he’d come right back inside. There was absolutely no way he was looking for you because it was a beautiful night and the lanterns lit up the sky like pieces of sweet, wondrous dreams—
Xiao shakes his head to dispel such thoughts as he steps out into the open, surveying just how empty Wangshu Inn has become. Everyone who isn’t obligated to work is down at the festival, spending time with friends or taking in the sights as a couple. He was going to watch from the balcony, where he’d be alone and unbothered by the usual hustle and bustle of Wangshu. All those plans seemingly evaporate the moment he notices your figure balancing on the ledge, one foot extended outwards.
He’s not sure what overcomes him when he rushes forward, seizing your arm and roughly pulling you backwards. A yelp escapes your dry throat. Just moments prior you were teetering on the edge, teary-eyed and wondering if anyone would miss you. Now you’re falling into someone’s chest as they wrap their arms around your trembling frame in a bone-crushing hug. Your stomach drops when you finally hit the floor, the wooden boards creaking under the combined weight of two people.
For a moment, you struggle to escape Xiao’s hold, but he remains unyielding. It’s during your hiccuping sobs that you finally hear him.
“Why?”
It’s the only word Xiao can utter. Over and over in a confused, pained loop. The thought of watching you fall to your death hurts him, and even though he can’t fully grasp the reasoning behind that feeling he knows it must be a result of your suicide attempt.
“I...don’t know.” Words weigh heavy in your mouth, and your tongue trips over itself in an attempt to explain yourself. But you truly can’t. Why did you do that just now? Were you actually going to jump? “I’m just tired.”
Tired. A word that holds so much meaning. Tired of work. Tired of mundane schedules. Tired of the disconnection between positivity and depression. Tired of life. It’s all so exhausting and the only solution would be to die. That must be it, right?
“You don’t know?” Xiao’s still holding onto you when he mutters that question, his expression clouded in grief and anger. “Why not? You’re a mortal! You should value your life a little because you won’t get another.”
The harshness to his tone startles you and it prompts more tears. Under the lights of thousands of lanterns, the scene should bring happiness and peace. But you’re just sad and tired and absolutely fed up with life.
“I’m sorry, Xiao. I didn’t—“
“Don’t apologize.” His grip loosens slightly and it’s as if his own composure follows. “Just...don’t do it again. If you’re not going to value your life, I’ll value it instead. So don’t do stupid things you’ll regret.”
It wounds your resolve to hear him refer to impulsive desires as stupid and foolish, but it also warms your heart to hear him say he’ll value your life. And you can’t bring yourself to argue. Had you jumped and avoided his outstretched arm, you wouldn’t have had any time to regret the action. Would Xiao have saved you even as you were falling? You’d like to think he would, but even miraculous fantasies remain within one’s mind. And in this reality a dozen alternate scenarios could’ve happened. For instance, Xiao could’ve avoided the balcony and you would be dead.
Your fingers dig into his backside as you finally return his hug. “I’m just tired. I didn’t know what else to do...” A heavy sigh escapes you in that tense moment. “I wish I didn’t feel so lost.”
Xiao realizes he’s been holding you for quite some time and he pulls away in a barely composed fluster, his cheeks reddening ever so slightly. In an effort to change the direction of the conversation, he latches onto the thought of wishes. “Well... I was going to watch the lanterns from here, but then I saw you. I guess we could go see the festival together—if it’ll cheer you up, that is.”
You look at him in mild shock, not having expected him to take the initiative to invite you. “Oh...”
“But you’re probably still scared after what just happened. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Mortals and fear...”
Your breathy laugh startles him. He’s always referring to you as a mortal, as if that’s all you are in his eyes. Although you’re still shaken after your attempt, you feel a little safer knowing he’s with you. And while you may just be another mortal, the fact that he saved you must count for something. Xiao can go on and on about how useless mortals are, but to step in when one was about to commit suicide—perhaps he does have a heart.
“I should thank you for doing that. For stopping me before I could actually do it, I mean.” Your heart hammers in your chest as you prepare to spill your emotional guts in front of the adeptus. “Truthfully, I haven’t been well in a long while. And I don’t think I’ll get better anytime soon, but...I want to forget about tonight. So maybe seeing the festival with you will chase a few bad thoughts away...”
Xiao’s staring. He realizes he should blink and actually say something, but the words won’t form. You’ve always been an honest person, but he’s taken by surprise at how quickly you agree to see the festival. It’s an ideal distraction, isn’t it? All sorts of negativity muddles his brain and he wonders why you’d want to see the festival with him. He’s not exactly a cheery person and you’re not mentally well either. For some reason, he feels compelled to weasel out of this situation—to deflect and avoid it before he freely allows himself to experience this pathetic thing humans call ‘fun.’
“Actually, I think making a lantern would be nice. I could write so many wishes on it. It might even make me feel better, too!” You’d like to think that a simple lantern wish will solve all of the murky depression in your life, but it’s just wishful thinking. “And you can make one with me! We’ll write our own wishes.”
“I guess...”
“Come on. It’ll be fun.” You stand on unsteady legs—legs that would’ve broke once they made contact with the ground—and offer your hand. “You can’t get out of this one, Xiao. I’m going to drag you there whether you like it or not.”
He deadpans as he begins to regret his own decisions. But his hand still finds yours and he allows you to pull him up from the floor. Your smile might not shine as brightly as it did before, but it’s still a step in the right direction. And you’re a resilient person; you’re bound to bounce back after this. It just takes time and patience to heal—two things he can easily spare for your sake.
Xiao won’t make any wishes for himself. Rather than selfishly wishing to erase centuries of karmic debt, he’ll scrawl something unlikely on the surface of his lantern. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he’d let you fall, and so he hopes that his wish will come true.
And when your lanterns join the others in the inky sky, Xiao feels relieved to have you by his side, your warm hand gripping his and an infectious smile pulling your lips upward. Your life has so much meaning. It’s just a little foggy and you can’t see it, but Xiao will shine a light through that dark fog to help you reclaim that meaning. In due time, you will find happiness and he’ll be there to guide you to it on a bumpy path.
Without realizing it, his love for you blossoms and it’s a quiet flower shrouded in its own darkness. 
No matter what happens, give (Name) the happiness they deserve. That’s all I’ll wish for.
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sneyrwrites · 4 years ago
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|| Homesick || Kuroo Tetsurou X Reader
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✘ Wordcount: 4,5k
✘ Genre: Angst, fluff. smut 
✘ Warnings: NSFW
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Author Note: What is it about my need to write angst lately? Anyway, Enjoy! (criticism is always welcome)
This started out as a 500 words drabble, but it got out of hand.
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Kuroo had no idea how he would get through this fucking course without breaking down at some point. The worksheets and load of work he had to pull through would get him a few early gray hairs, his psyche suffering tremendously, but oh well... that’s what college was about. 
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 The only thing he looked forward to was getting home, where you were probably waiting for him with a warm smile and a heart-melting “welcome”. Those were the time where he could feel all of his stress and negativity dissipate into thin air.
The sound of the lock opening brought a flutter in his stomach, him already anticipating the sweet relief of finding you there upon opening the door.
The cold and dark room was the only thing to receive him.
Oh, right... you were not there anymore.
You had left a long time now, exhausted by his constant neglect. Could he blame you though? Of course not.
If he was honest, in fact, he wouldn’t have put up with his sorry ass for half of the time you did. But seeing the empty shoe rack by the door, and the hangers stripped from that hideous scarf you insisted on wearing, he could not fight the tears that threatened to fall. What was he supposed to do now?
 The click of the switch brought light into his house, which he no longer called home. Kuroo ran a hand through his messier than usual hair, and sighing heavily he left his bag on the floor, not caring about his spilled books.
He didn’t feel like doing his project anymore, and talking to your mutual friends would only bring him more despair, as Bokuto seemed to only know how to talk about you.
The creaking of the mattress when he heavily fell on it used to bring him joy, because it was often accompanied by your soft giggle, followed by the usual “Tough day, huh?”
You had no idea.
You had no idea just how tough his days had been since you left, depriving his apartment from the spark it used to have.
It was unfair for him to feel this sour about the situation. Break-ups sucked, and he had every right to feel hurt about it, but he recognized his actions had lead to the outcome. You tear-streaked face would hunt him for eternity.
“I can’t handle this anymore Kuroo...” Your whispered words, so tiny and fragile, but so powerful at the same time, breaking his heart in a million pieces.
The words died in his mouth, so he just steeped aside, letting you go without even trying to make you stay.
All the I love you’s and promises he never got to make, all the late night snacks and pillow talks you would never share.
Now they were nothing but a wish, an illusion that dissipated into thin air.
The first week you were gone, he was resentful and shady over social media, like he was only a teenager who’s crush rejected. But, as Kenma had put it in simple words. He was just a sore loser.
You had tried your best, but the fights started to rise, In volume, in frequency, in anger. And they were about the stupidest things ever, like him not feeling like getting up on his sparse free moments to go out with you, him refusing to eat with you at the table. Once you were gone, he regretted letting all of his frustration and stress out on you.
Half of his helplessness came from a selfish place if he really thought about it. You were his mini vacation, his heaven on earth, and he had destroyed it, even noticing his mistake until it was too late and the sheets were cold, just like the half-finished cup of tea you had left at the counter, and he still didn’t have the courage to put away.
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Akaashi’s couch was soft and comfortable, hugging your body as if it was a cloud.
But it wasn’t Kuroo’s bed. The warmth the boy irradiated as he sleeps was missing. The way he would sometimes mumble nonsense or when his hand would reach for yours in the middle of the night, simply because.
Those were the things you missed the most. At those times at night you couldn’t help but think. Were you over reacting?
You knew he was stressed about school, maybe you shouldn’t have been as harsh, but thinking about letting him go over you like if you were nothing but the shoe mat in the front door, made a bitter taste settle in the back of your mouth and a resentment you never wanted to have towards him bloom.
If you didn’t walk away when you did you would have ended up hating him, or hating him in the tough moments at least, because when everything was going good, Kuroo made you feel like you were floating, and oh so loved.
But he tended to lock himself inside his head, submerging in a spiral of unhealthy habits of insomnia and a full gallon of caffeine to keep going. Shutting you out completely, brushing your attempts at spend time with him off.
Sighing, you rolled on the couch by the tenth time that hour, restless and sad. Akaashi’s apartment was pitch black. The only thing cutting through all the blackness was your phone, displaying a picture of you and Kuroo, smiling at the museum, in front of a painting of Marie Curie. That one was taken in summer vacations, when he still hadn’t started his courses and could spend some time with you while being awake.
Maybe it was unfair of you to disappear from his life out of nowhere, just picking everything up and running to hide behind your friend, not able to confront Kuroo and see his reaction at your abandonment for more than ten seconds.
You turned again, the blanket wrapped around your shoulders slipping to your waist. You didn’t even bother to readjust it.
“You know, I Can hear your sorrow all the way from my room.” Akaashi’s voice startled you, Looking up you noticed his silhouette in the living room entrance. Sighing, he uncrossed his arms and started towards the kitchen. “I’m going to make tea.”
Two heartbeats later, a steaming cup was in your hands, your friend sitting next to you, sipping his green tea in silence.
“Okay...” He said once he finished the cup, leaving it in the table. His voice calm and collected. “What is it? You obviously need to talk.” You kept silence, focusing on the pale color of your drink. It didn’t taste like Kuroo’s tea at all. This one was missing something... You sipped again, still unsure about speaking up about what was bothering you.
“ I know it’s about Kuroo, and I know you need help to figure your feeling out... But understand I Can’t help you if you don’t speak to me... I’ve been patient for the two weeks and a half you’ve been crashing in my couch.” He turned to you, resting his elbow in the back of it, his face supported by his hand. “Don’t get me wrong, i love having you here and all. But it’s obvious you don’t. Judging by the way you’re stabbing daggers at the tea...”
“Sorry, I just...” You didn’t know what to say. That you missed Tetsuro���s bed or his tea? That you could not get the way he sings in the shower to cheesy 80’s songs out of your head? Or the way your hand always felt empty without his in it? “I miss him...” That seemed to sum it up pretty well.
“I thought you couldn’t handle the relationship anymore...” He prompted
You shook your head, setting your still full cup in the table.
“I couldn’t... but I don’t know” You were bad at communicating, maybe that was one of the reasons you chose to escape rather than talk.
“Do you think you could have handle things different with him when it started getting rough?” Akaashi’s words were intense, just like the look he was giving you, his clever gaze analyzing up every single reaction you made.
Yeah, in fact, you thought about that.
Maybe that was why you were so restless, the guilt o knowing you could have done more for the two of you, but choose to do nothing weighted on your conscious
“You know, if you want to go back with him, that doesn’t make you any less strong (Y/N)... Sometimes we just don’t handle our emotions in the right way. And it seems to me that the both of you made a few mistakes... Maybe you should talk to Kuroo. Who knows? This time it could go better...” Akaashi got up and went to his room, throwing a “Try to rest” Over his shoulder.
What were you going to do? The shame of your actions overshadowed all logic and reason.
What if Kuroo told you to fuck off? He could hate you for all you knew.
You hadn’t made up your mind the next morning, still teetering on the edge to throwing your pride to the garbage and just beg him to take you back or just leave everything as it was. Time cured everything, right?
Coincidentally with this debate you were having between logic and feelings, your college sent you an email regarding a few missing papers you needed to hand over in the office. Bad -or good-thing was, you left that folder at Kuroo’s place thinking you wouldn’t need it anymore.
Seems like you would have to see him, you wanted it or not.
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Three knocks on his door woke Kuroo up that Saturday morning.
He considered the possibility of just not getting up, too tired by his restless nights to function properly, but by the time whoever was outside the door knocked again he was walking to the door, throwing a random hoodie that was lying around his naked torso to look somewhat presentable. He didn’t want to look like a perv in case it was his landlady, a sweet grandma that was always nice and used to bring you cookies from time to time. Kuroo remembered tenderly those times where the lady and you would spend hours in the corridor sharing recipes and exchanging goodies.
He missed those days.
Kuroo opened the door and froze in the middle of zipping the hoodie up.
Was he dreaming? It wouldn’t be the first time, Those weeks without you were a torture, and your memories usually haunted his dreams, you in the arms of someone else were a popular theme in his subconscious.
And now, you were there, right in front of him, close enough to extend his hand and brush the skin on your cheek. He was dumbfounded, not able to emit a word.
He thought you were no longer going to speak to him, sending Akaashi or Bokuto to pick up the remainder of your stuff.
“Um... Hi” You hesitated, trying to look at anything but his exposed mid drift, but failing completely. “Sorry to bother, but I forgot a few important papers the last time I was here.” you tried to say as nonchalantly as possible
“Oh... “ He said, stepping aside, letting you into the apartment you used to share. “Sure... Do you remember where it was?”
You took a step in and the rush of longing took you by surprised.
You missed that tiny and uncomfortable couch so much, and the horrible square pattern blanked Kuroo bought ant kept in the chair next to it. The curtains that would slap you in the face if the windows behind the sofa was open, everything there felt like home, and you knew you were the one to go away in the first place, but still.
Akaashi was right, you didn’t even try to talk to him before running away, too traumatized by past experiences to even try to make it work. Th tears choked you and threaten to fall.
It was too late. Asking to try again would be so selfish, after the mess you caused yourself.
“(Y/N)?” Tetsurō‘s gentle tone broke you out of your trance.
“Huh? Oh yeah, It’s probably in the bedroom...” Was it even appropriate for you to go inside his bedroom still? Kuroo must’ve noticed your hesitation because he signal with his hand for you to go first.. The flash of sadness in his eyes almost going unnoticed by you.
Everything was just as you left it inside the room. The same glass of water on the nightstand, your drawers only halfway closed cause you were in a rush when you left, afraid that you back out of your dumb and rushed plan to break up with him all of the sudden, thinking that way would be better, just like ripping a band-aid.
In the bookcase against the wall you spotted the red folder you came looking for. Once it was in your grasp, you really didn’t have an excuse to delay your exit from Kuroo’s house... that used to be your home, and that you wanted so bad to call it home once again.
Turning back to him, who was standing at the door you hugged the folder to your chest.
“So... this was it. Thank u Tets...” You noticed your mistake and tried to correct it “Kuroo... I better leave now.” You advanced towards the door, but his sulked figure blocked the way. “Kuroo?”
You looked up at him, and the tears in his hazel orbs stunned you. His lips trembled slightly and with a frustrated groan he rubbed his eyes harshly.
“Fuck!” He exclaimed, keeping them covered. A broken sigh shaking his shoulders, “I hate this... I hate it so much...”
Your heart clenched, and you regretted not sending Akaashi in your place. He obviously wasn’t okay with you there.
“Oh um... Sorry, I’ll just leave now.” You attempted to sidestep him to get out of the room, but in heart beat his long arms wrapped around you and pulled you into his chest.
The sobs of the boy you loved made his chest vibrate under your skin, and the pain he was feeling you could feel it too. You didn0t hesitate, and as if it was a second nature to you, you squeezed him harder, kissing the soft bare skin of his chest, as you felt your chest collapse into itself.
Could someone die from sadness and love at the same time? Because that was how you were feeling.
“I’m sorry... I know it’s too late and all... But I really am sorry...” He started, his words coming out strangled by the tears, but you shushed him as the tears slipped over your cheeks, leaving wet trails on them.
“Shh... I’m sorry too.” You chocked on a I love that you refused to let slip past your lips. He could be trying to move on, and this was just a minor setback, you would not be that selfish and just throw your feeling into him.
Still presses against his body, you sighed
You missed so badly the feeling of his arms around you, and the way your body fit into his in all the right places, his hands burying themselves in your hair as he brought you closer to him.
Kuroo Tetsurō was your home. The home you lost the key to, locking yourself out of it in a careless action.
“(Y/N)?... I’m sorry...” You opened your mouth to say it was okay when he spoke again. “I love you so much... and I’m so sorry I pushed you away...” The air was sucker punched out of your lungs. And now it was your body, the one being rocked by uncontrollable sobs.
You loved him too, but were too busy weeping to respond to his declaration.
Kuroo held you in his arms, while the both of you cried.
It was almost therapeutic, finally being able to apologize about his mistakes.
Something muffled came out of your mouth and he didn’t catch it, since the got lost against his skin, your warm breath tickling him.
“What baby?” He asked, and wanted to kick himself for it. He was not respecting your decision of separating with his actions and words, but he couldn’t help the overwhelming waves of emotions that watched over him.
“I want to come back home...” Kuroo stayed silent, processing what you just said. “I’m sorry for not trying to make us work Tetsu... But I miss you like crazy, and I was scared and I don’t know what I was thinking... I’m just so sorry...”
His response was simple. He hugged you closer, picking you up like he had done so many times in that same room.
He sat at the end of the bed, with you sitting on his lap, your head tucked in the crook of his neck while his hands caressed your scalp.
Once the sobs retreated, you lifted your head and looked at him in the eyes. Your eyelashes were shimmering with the remaining wetness the tears left behind, your nose was red as well as your cheeks.
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Your eyes scanned his face and Kuroo held his breath when you leaned in, your lips softly brushing his, almost as if you feared rejection.
He could never say no to you.
He applied a little more pressure and he finally tasted your lips again. God, how he missed the feeling of your lips against his. Your breath tickled his mouth each time you pulled away to take a breath in between kisses.
Kuroo’s hands went to your back as the kiss rose in intensity. Your hands grabbed his shoulders, your fingers pressing his arm.
Kuroo could feel his erection grow, pressing against his gym shorts, and he was sure you could feel it too by the way your face was getting hotter to the touch.
You readjusted on top of him, your hips straddling his, and the friction from the movement tore a moan from his throat. Embarrassed, he tried to kiss you again to hide his blush, but you pulled away and looked him dead serious in the eyes. He started to feel nervous and was about to apologize, when all of the sudden you moved again, grinding against him. He let out another whiny moan and an entertained glint flashed across your eyes.
Your fingers found the zipper of the hoodie, and the cold skin of your knuckles brushing him as you undid it, exposing his abs. You admired them for a second before kissing him again, breathing in his scent. Slipping the hoodie from his shoulders, a shiver traveled his spine when your fingers brushed the sensitive spot in his clavicle. And an amused smile twitched in the corner of your lips, as you brought your face down to meet your lips with his skin.
Your scorching mouth against his neck made his head spin, and when your teeth made an appearence, he could not help the clench of his stomach, the nibbles you left on his skin sending a tingling to his toes. He sucked in a sharp breath when to licked behind his ear all of the sudden, and the low chuckle on his ear snapped him out of the daze you had him in.
Grabbing your hip and back, he pressed you harder against him, and a gasp left your lips. Smiling smugly, he flipped both of you over.
Kuroo smile above you, as he teasingly trailed his fingers against your sides, until he came to a stop on the edges of your pants, looking at you once again to confirm you were still okay.
Your smirk was the only confirmation he needed.
He unbuttoned your jeans and he took them off, throwing the garment  somewhere behind him. His mouth came down to your lips once again as his hand slipped inside your underwear that was a dripping mess because of him.
Pride swelled his chest at the thought he was the one making you feel like this, craving his touch just as much as he craved yours.
When his fingers brushed your clit, a strangled moan came out of you, and oh how much he missed the sounds you made when he touched you like that.
He kissed you like there was no tomorrow, his mouth claiming yours, teeth pulling your lips and soft words whispered into them as his finger kept stimulating you, a fog settling over your mind.
“I love you so fucking much...” His mouth went to your chin, and kept going down, trailing your skin, an electric shock struck you from head to toe when he kissed that one spot in your hip he knew drove you crazy. “So fucking beautiful...” He praised.
He kept going down, his lips ghosting over your inner thighs and his breath brushing over your cunt and making you whine out his name.
“Kuroo...” You said. Your hand digging into his hair as your eyes flutter closed.
“What is it, baby?” He asked, and you could even hear the mock in his tone. You were going to respond, when his teeth nibbled the sensitive skin, careful not to hurt you.
Pulling aside your underwear, his mouth found your pulsating sex. And a shock wave of ecstasy filled your body. It didn’t take too long for him to have you at the edge, your toes curling and your hand clutching his hair. Heaving breaths rose your chest and with one last flick of Kuroo’s tongue an orgasm hit you full force, his name coming out of your lips.
“Tetsu...” A series of spasms rocked your body, and your legs clenching around his head, and Kuroo Chuckled at your reaction, amazed at the intensity of your pleasure.
Once you came out of your high, Kuroo settled next to you in bed, his erection still present and bothering him a little, but he was content with making you feel good. He needed nothing else. He could take care of his arousal later.
Rolling over you sat on top of him, leaning down you kissed his neck as you dragged your hands down his abs, feeling the smooth muscles underneath your fingertips, and you noticed just how much you had missed the intimacy you both shared. Your hands kept traveling until you found the elastic of his pants and pulled them down, brushing his swelling member as you pulled the garment down, stripping Kuroo of his last garment.
With his pants out of the way, you could feel the heat from his cock against your wet pussy. He helped you take out your shirt and kissed the exposed skin in between your breasts.
You rubbed on him once more, and the friction ignited the fire in your stomach. You circled Kuroo’s neck with your arms, and leaned you damped forehead on his chest, soft moans coming out of your mouth.
Lifting your hips slightly you aligned Kuroo’s dick with your entrance and in one swift motion you were filled to the rim with him.
“Shit (Y/n)!” He threw his head back, fingers digging at your hips, as you slowly adjusted to him. “God, I love you so much, I love you so fucking much baby...” Kuroo hissed. Kissing your temple, he then guided your hips up and down, feeling every inch of you tightening around him.
Your moans were shushed by his mouth, while your hips kept moving, feeling the way his member pushed at your walls, tightening the knot in the pit of your stomach.
Switching up the pace, Kuroo sat up and picked you up. Laying you on your back you admire the sight of him, his smooth skin and tall frame, his muscular legs and abs, his gentle hands, and his eyes that were so full of love.
You turned around, lifting your ass up and inviting him in. An almost animalistic growl left his throat at the sight.
“Please Tetsu...” You looked at him, with your eyes full of lust and a glint of mischief  in them. “I want you inside of me”
In less than a heartbeat he was inside of you once more, his hips colliding mercilessly with your ass, the lewd sounds of skin against skin mixed with the whimpers that involuntarily came out of your throat as he pounded your pussy like he wanted to.
“Fuck, I missed so much being inside of you.” He grunted, biting his lip.
Kuroo picked up his pace, and you reached for his hand. Intertwining your fingers, he kissed your knuckles, leaning to bite your neck playfully right after.
You could almost feel his abdomen twitching with the need to release his load inside of you. Your chest was flushed against the bed, as Kuroo’s rhythmic movements hit every right spot.
“Tetsu...” You whispered. “Please cum inside of me... I need you.” You begged, aching to be filled by him once more. Your words caused something on him, as if you had stepped on the gas .
The thrust of his hips got more intense and fast, hammering your pussy like it was the sole purpose of his existence. Your thoughts were jumbled and the only coherent thing on your mind was his name, so that all you said.
“Fuck” He moaned, his erratic pace almost matching the beating of your heart. “Oh god baby.... shit.”
With two last powerful you felt him filling you with his cum, releasing three weeks of frustration and desire.
Kuroo tried to pull out of you, but you prevented it, grabbing his wrist and pulling him down to rest on top of you, his bare and sweat covered chest against your back.
A content sigh left his lips and he kissed your shoulder, and your heart could have exploded right then and there.
“So... Now what?” He said, asking the question you were too afraid to voice.
You didn’t know how to precede. Did he wanted to try again? Or was this only a fling of the moment and nothing more?
“Hey.” He called your attention, shifting slightly so he could be lying half of his body on the mattress. You turned your head to him and came nose to nose with him. Kuroo placed a chaste kiss on your lips. “Quit over-thinking and be honest... I won’t get mad if this is really over and you regret this thing we just shared.” His face showed a vulnerability uncharacteristic of him and your heart clenched.
“What do you want?” You turned the question around, a nervous flutter in your stomach.
Without hesitation in his voice or in his eyes, he answered
“You.” He pecked your lips, pressing your foreheads together. You observed his beautiful eyes as he reassured you. “That’s all I ever wanted... You’re my home (Y/n), this house feels empty without you... My life feels empty if you’re not sharing it with me. So... what do you say baby, do you want to give us another chance?” He asked.
“I’m happy to be home Tetsu...”
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289 notes · View notes
sweetestlamb · 4 years ago
Text
It Will Rain
Summary: Gang-tae is finally honest and has a realization about his relationship with Mun-yeong. 
Author’s note: This story is coming to an end and honestly I’m very happy it has been very hard to tap into these emotions for both of them, their self-deprecation just wraps around me even after I’m done writing. But this was also very cathartic and I am happy that I wrote it, this was one of my only issues with the show and I know a lot of people excuse and accept GT’s behavior and that’s your right but I couldn’t do the same and I finished the series still yearning for a real apology so this story has done that for me. Provided more closure. Anyway, there is only one chapter left hope you all enjoyed! 
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She's gone.
He goes through the ceaseless motions of life, robotic and mechanical, going to work and coming home like he's living in a washing machine; spinning around and around in violent circles.
But endlessly his mind spasms every second as he remembers that she's gone and he has no idea where exactly she might be.
Sang-in refuses to speak to him, exiting any space that he enters and his frustration melts away as he realizes that her disappearance is not solely impacting him, the manager looks haggard as well, dark circles sunken deep like craters on a surface.
His thumbs twinge with malignant pain from his extensive messages to her, 109 messages sent since the day he went to her empty castle, pleas and apologies easily coming now as he recognizes how badly he needs her in his life. Life without her has been colorless and dull, a black and white façade that he longs to escape from. He wants the vibrant hues that being around her splashes into his life.
All his life he's been a blank canvas and meeting her poured colors onto his skin that he never knew he needed, life was meant to be lived and up until the moment she crashed into his life, he'd merely been existing.
He's taken to eating alone, punishing himself for his hapless mistakes, he doesn't deserve to be surrounded by warmth or have a full belly when Mun-yeong is out there with no one, thinking that he doesn't care for her. That couldn't be further from the truth but he has nobody but himself to blame for that, she'd given him too many chances and each time he'd been a fool; why had he done that? Why couldn't be accept love while it was the one thing he yearned for the most?
You don't deserve to be happy. This is what you deserve. Regret and despair.
His thoughts assault him viciously poking holes through his paper thin sheet of confidence. Each day without her and unread messages breaking him down into unrecognizable pieces, his walls crumbling like a sandcastle under the lightest pressure.
"Gang-tae, why are you so sad?" His older brother's voice draws him back from the depths of his melancholy, breaking the shackles of his self deprecation.
He sits from his starfished position on the ground, meeting his brother's warm questioning eyes. Immediately a smile spreads across his face, instinct kicking in.
Sang-tae looks at him, expressionless before he sits down beside him, reaching out a hand and catching his smile before slowly pulling down the sides of his mouth.
"It's fake. It's not real, you're not happy Moon Gang-tae, that's a fake smile. Why are you smiling when you're not happy?"
He feels the dam holding in his emotions start to burst before his eyes are swimming with emotions, twin lines scorch down the smooth skin of his cheeks.
"Hyung, I made a mistake." His voice squeaks from his worn lungs, sobs now wrecking his body until he's shaking apart. "I hurt Mun-yeong and I don't know if she's going to forgive me."
Sang-tae lifts a hand hesitating minutely before laying it on his head, air soft caresses on his thick hair. He almost melts into the brotherly brush, unable to recall another instance where his brother has touched him in this manner.
"It's because you're the little brother, you're just a kid still. You have to say sorry when you hurt someone , you have to say sorry and make them happy. Mun-yeong smiles when she's with you, a smile is better than a fight."
I have fun with you. I keep smiling.
He'd been so focused on his own newfound happiness he hadn't stopped to think about her, how much they'd both smiled when they were together. Her smile had been especially gorgeous, brighter than the sun moments after their first kiss. Her lips tasted as beautiful as they looked, her joy palatable on his taste buds.
He'd crushed that happiness under his feet that day on the beach, callously throwing sharp daggers at her chest, the vision of her clutching her bruised heart forever stamped in his mind.
I might not deserve happiness but she does and I....make her happy.
With a hiccup he smiles at Sang-tae, so young at heart but wise beyond his years. His wonderful older brother.
"Thank you hyung. You're right I need to make her happy."
"Yes she's my best friend, don't make her sad anymore or I'll scold you."
He laughs for the first time in days, happiness growing in his chest like a mustard seed.
Gathering his courage he meets his brothers eyes, finally prepared to be honest about his feelings for Mun-yeong, he's tired of hiding himself from the people he cares about.
"Hyung, I...like Mun-yeong. I want to be with her and I want to make her happy all the time." His confession eases the fear and concern that has been weighing him down, his shoulders loosening as the words escape his lips.
Sang-tae sinks into himself, scratching at the raw skin between his fingers.
He reaches out to hold his hands, rendering them still. He smiles at his brother, a smile that finally reaches his eyes.
"Don't be scared hyung please, I'm still your brother and I still love you. I just care about Mun-yeong too, my heart is big enough to hold both of you. Is your heart big enough big brother? Can you let Mun-yeong in too? She needs us."
Waiting with abated breath he watches the thoughts as they run across Sang-tae's face, shifting from one emotion to the next before he can properly decipher then until his brother finally responds.
"Yes. Mun-yeong needs us. She needs a family, we can let her into our family."
His heart ripples from his brother's generosity, he never imagined this conversation going this well. He'd ruminated about talking to Sang-tae always thinking his brother wouldn't understand and once again seeing that he underestimates his brother, she'd been right he just needed to be honest.
"You need to eat Gang-tae, I came to get you. Come on let's go eat, I'm your big brother it's just job to take care of you."
He lets himself he pulled away, leaving weightless. That night sleep finds him easily, his dreams are full of her.
Helpless is the only way to describe his circumstance, for once he knows exactly what he wants and is willing to fight for it but she remains elusive, not responding to any of his messages or calls, her voicemail now filled from his persistence.
The patients are the first to notice the change in him, their watchful eyes following his very move as he does his rounds.
"Your pretty smile, it's gone."
She's right, as his days without Mun-yeong pile on he finds it impossible to even force a fake smile, for once letting his true emotion show.
It's accidental that he runs into Sang-in, literally. Colliding chest to chest on the stairs to the rooftop, the manager teeters on the edge of the step arms flailing as he tries to regain his balance. The scene is all too familiar to him as he wastes no time to reach out and grab the man by his bicep, righting him before he can tumble down the stairs.
They both look at each other with trepidation before Sang-in pulls his arm free of his hold, mouth opening before his eyes harden and he spins around, intentions clear.
Hastily he calls out, "Wait."
Sang-in halts, the lines of his shoulder sharp and unfriendly.
"Please."
That simple word loosens the tension, he watches as the shoulders lower and after two beats Sang-in pivots around.
Dark eyes look at him imploringly, his expression saying more than words ever could.
What do you want?
Latching onto the opportunity he rushes to say his peace, "I care about her. I know you think I'm selfish and all I do is hurt her."
Steel wraps around Sang-in's eyes as if he's preparing to rebuke his excuses. Ready for a fight.
"You're right. I am selfish and I've hurt her a lot. It doesn't matter what my intentions were I still hurt her and I'll never forgive myself for that."
After a pregnant pause, a sneer glides across Sang-in's smooth shaven face, "So what? You're going to leave her alone and stop making her cry? Is this you telling me that you're giving up on her so she can be happy?"
His eyes dart all over that manager's face, before he finds what he's looking for. That's not Sang-in's secret desire, beneath the sneer his lips quiver as he awaits Gang-tae's response.
It's the easiest test he's ever been given.
"No. I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to make her happy, I won't push her away." He promises with his heart in his throat.
Their eyes lock in a staring match, he hides nothing letting his emotions pour through his eyes, taking down his walls. Sang-in takes a deep breath before answering.
"Okay."
It's such a simple answer but with it he feels Sang-in's reluctant acceptance, their happiness was connected and despite his anger Sang-in couldn't deny that. The answer boosts his confidence.
He has to find her.
He's at work when he gets the message from Sang-tae, Mun-yeong text me. She sent me a picture.
He races to the staff lounge, phone precariously clutched in his hands as he looks at the message. Disbelief and relief wash over him in submerging waves, before he can maneuver his trembling hands to type out a response he gets another message.
Her face fills his phone screen and his heart as Sang-tae sends him a screenshot of her message.
I'm okay Sang-tae. Don't worry I'll be back.
Pushing aside his jealousy he devours her picture, the downward tilt of her lips doing nothing to lessen her beauty, those black orbs shining through the luminance of his phone.
Once his heartbeat slows down to a manageable rhythm he looks at the picture once more, scouring for clues and immediately his memory whorls as he takes in the door in the background.
She's gone back to where he'd finally let go.
Maybe he still has a chance.
With that though fueling his movement he runs through the door, stomping to the director's office.
Director Oh smirks at his stuttered excuse before chuckling and nodding in acquiesce, letting him leave his shift early.
He stands still in shock before confirming, "Really? I can go..?"
With a shrug the director waves him away, "Go, go I did worst things when I was young for a girl. Love makes us all a little crazy."
Blushing at how easily he's been found out, he bows low thanking the director before running out of the hospital.
As he bursts through the entrance door, a car horn catches his attention and he twists around until he finds the source.
Sang-in climbs out of the driver's seat of his rental car, walking closer until they are within arm's reach, wordlessly he tosses the keys into Gang-tae's hands, snatching the metal out of the air he looks at the manager surprise etched in very pore of his skin.
"Why?" He asks, taken a back by everyone's willingness to help him.
"Because I want her to be happy. You promised to spend your life doing that. You better keep that promise."
He hears the threat for what it is, impulsively he leaps forward wrapping the older man in a bear hug before releasing him and rushing to the car.
Sang-in's wide eyed stare causes his laughter to fill the car's small space as he pulls out of the parking lot and drives off to keep his promise.
The woman who owns the guest house grumbles when he arrives but shows him to Mun-Yeong's room and tells him that she's currently out taking one of her "soul searching walks". He waits outside, not wanting to invade too much of her space. He wants her to let him in.
Hours crawl by before the heavens open out releasing wet retribution that drowns the ground. Worry washes over him as he glances out at the road, willing her to appear and to his utmost surprise she does, materializing before him like a vision in a dream.
Her movements are unhurried despite the harsh downpour that has already soaked her, her clothes plastered to the soft curves of her body.
He watches her entranced, eyes feasting. She's here, his heart gallops giddy from her mere presence. He savors this moment of pure exuberance, knowing her well enough to acknowledge that she will not be as happy to see him. 
He's right.
Her words cut him as she rages, cursing his presence and demanding that he leave her alone. She sugar-coats nothing as she rips him apart the worst part of all is that she only speaks the truth. She's not vicious or malicious, he thinks he might have preferred that, instead of this piercing honesty.
She slams the door in his face and he's reminded of him slamming the door on their relationship on the beach. He deserves this.
He slides to the ground, placing one hand on the door that separates them.
It's my turn to wait.
"I'm here for you. I need you Mun-yeong."
She stares at him blankly, vastly different from the anger she'd just exhibited at finding him slumbering on her doorstep.
Without a word she spins around, slamming the door shut in his face once more.
Eventually he goes to find the bathroom, a warm bathe soothes the chill in his bones before he's forced to put back on his still damp clothes.
When he finds his way back to her, she's standing stock still where he once was.
A closer look reveals that she is not completely still, her small shoulders are rapidly moving up and down and after a moment's pause he rushes to her, spinning her around to face him.
Her face is crumpled in wet anguish, tears gushing from her eyes as she bites her lips to contain the sobs that are aching to escape.
"Mun-yeong." He breathes out before she tumbles to the ground.
Instantly he falls with her, gathering her in his arms, she pushes him away fighting to break his barricade. He lets her go. Arms falling helplessly to his sides. His heart breaks as he watches the woman he loves fall apart, helpless again to do anything to comfort her.
"I thought you were gone. Why did you come back? I accepted that you left me, why do you keep coming back damn it!"
Her cry breaks as her body continues to shake and he can't watch this anymore, his arms and heart empty without her weight.
Mustering his last remnants of strength, he pleads, "Mun-yeong please, can I hold you? I can't stand to see you like this, please. I'm yours. I'm here for as long as you want me. I'm never going anywhere."
Her moist eyes peer into his soul, searching. Before her eyes slide shut, slowly she reaches out her arms and he bolts into the space, a space just for him. He fits perfectly.
He wraps his arms around her slight figure, engulfing her in a deep embrace, her tears soaking through the collar of his uniform.
Time slows down as she shakes in his arms, her sobs quieting down until the sounds of nature fill his ears instead. He rocks her back and forth, patting her back as she clutches on his shirt.
When the last of her cries falter off he draws away from her, her beautiful wet face blessing his eyes.
Gently he reaches out to brush the tears from her cheeks.
She blinks back at him, sniffling before sighing and looking up at the skies.
"Okay. Let's talk."
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g0dspeeed · 4 years ago
Text
Unconditional Positive Regard, 4
To finally meet her, Adam Smasher feels relieved. 
Well, kinda.
=====================
Intake
Towering over her with enough girth to block out the sunlight from the street windows was Adam and his dwindling patience. He could feel the hot coals of his temper start to heat up as the terrified receptionist tried desperately to avoid eye contact.
It would be simple, he thought. The only thing that separated his frame from her own was a large desk counter. With one hand he could flip it on her, break some bones and crush her skull if she kept stammering as stupidly as she was.
“Um, do you, do you have the extension number-”
So simple.
“If I don’t know her fucking name, then why would I know the extension number?” he snapped.
“R-Right, um. One, one moment, please, Mr. Smasher, sir.”
Red eyes rolled at her incompetence. Been in the building for less than five minutes and his composure was already diminishing. The receptionist worked quickly on the screen in front of her, her blue optics lighting up intermittently. His glare settled on the frozen form of the other receptionist. She, too, deterred her gaze away from his own and busied herself at her side of the counter.
Pitiful, he thought.
No spine.
“The, the only thing I can see in our calendar is a note about scheduling a future appointment, sir.”
“I know,” he breathed. “Make me an appointment with Services. Now.”
“Oh, we, um, we don’t typically do walk-in appointments-”
“Today you do.”
Adam’s cold stare ended any argument that the receptionist prepared to make.
She pressed a button on a switch board.
“Hi, I have a Mr. Adam Smasher here for a walk-in appoint-Yes, I know that, but he insists to be seen. Well, can you check? He’s at my desk…”
At the receptionist’s rising panic Adam couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Didn’t take much for that fear to kick in. Just a little physical presence and she was malleable to his whim.
A moment later, she ended her conversation and looked up at him with a weak smile.
“They said to wait in their lobby on the Services floor,” she stated.
Without so much as a thank you, Adam turned from the poor woman and headed towards the elevators. He smirked to himself as she exhaled behind him.
Even though the Arasaka Netrunner lacked proper access to the information he sought, Adam wasn’t planning to relent any time soon. For one, the job depended on it. Second, Adam knew that he simply would have to gain intel the more direct way, in an approach that was familiar, easy, and frankly more enjoyable.
Deep, deep, deep in the dark depths of his mind there lied a third reason. A reason that Adam would deny ‘til his dying breath if someone were bold enough to ask. A reason that sounded like curiosity, but actually teetered more so on the line between obsessive and slightly enamored.
But he would never admit that.
Not to a single soul.
The elevator doors opened on the Services floor, allowing the soothing fragrance of flowers to fill his senses. The lobby was empty like before, void of any witnesses as Adam stepped out of the elevator and approached the double doors. There was that same sense of determination in him, one that was resolute on getting this meeting over with and finally answering some of those damned questions that kept him up at night.
However, before he could grab the handle, the doors swung open. Out stepped the same doctor from before, Dr. Estrada, greeting him with that million-eddie smile.
Adam grimaced immediately at feeling the man’s positive attitude rolling off him like radiation.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Smasher,” said the doctor warmly. “May I call you Adam?”
“No.”
“Okay. I’m glad you decided to reschedule. Some of us were worried that you wouldn’t.”
Though annoyed, the doctor’s greeting also brought on a wave of confusion. The words as well as the man’s smile seemed oddly sincere. The doctor’s eyes held a friendliness in them with no hint of any fear or resentment from what occurred in the lobby during their first encounter. Another new kind of interaction, a change that was unsettling to the hardened merc. Those who were on the receiving end of Adam’s wrath seldom stuck around for a round two, let alone approached him with such confidence and genuineness that the man before him showed. Never broke eye contact. Never spoke in a small or mumbling voice laced with anxiety. There was a strong reminder of that initial meeting, however, one that the doctor would have a difficult time hiding. Ugly, purple bruises colored his neck in a pattern that matched the length of Adam’s fingers. His head moved stiffly.
“Have you deposited your weapons into our reservoir?” Dr. Estrada asked. When Adam didn’t respond, his hand gestured towards the reservoir unit and he added, “After they’re deposited, please also turn off your combat cyberware.”
A pause.
Adam squared his shoulders.
“And if I refuse to listen to this bullshit request?” Adam grumbled.
The doctor appeared to contemplate, as if truly mulling over Adam’s question.
“If you choose to refuse, that’s fine. We would have to reschedule for a different date.”
Another pause.
“To be honest,” continued Dr. Estrada, “You could walk in there completely ignoring our request without much issue. Our staff only has defensive cyberware programmed, and not even everyone has the full modifications so there wouldn’t be a lot of resistance. Not really anyone back there has any experience with combat, much less any violence other than that from who we work with, but…”
The man shrugged.
“She still wouldn’t see you,” Dr. Estrada concluded. “She keeps her word, keeps her promises, and when she sets an expectation, she won’t back down. Ever. And that’s just something you’re going to have to get used to, my friend.”
When it became clear that the doctor wasn’t going to offer anything more or elaborate, Adam found himself in disbelief. Again he felt unsettled. The words shocked him in their sincerity and his response, Adam’s own lack of anger or bitterness, was so foreign.
“Who the fuck is she-”
A loud scream cut through Adam’s words, upsetting the peaceful atmosphere of the floor. The doctor’s body stiffened and his hazel eyes lit up as he received new data.
Before the doctor could explain anything, another shriek ripped through the air, this time drawing out longer and with an even higher pitch.
Dr. Estrada’s smile vanished as he quickly exited through the double doors.
The whine of scraping metal echoed beyond the doorway, followed by the floor shaking as if something large and heavy was suddenly dropped.
From his place in the lobby, Adam could hear chaos build and build along the chatter of nervous voices that muttered and called out to one another in hushed tones.
Seeing that it was clear that the doctor wasn’t going to return anytime soon, Adam chose to cross the threshold.
The other side of the doors consisted of a large open space that was attached to several hallways and lined with tall windows. The space itself held many desks with computer screens and office supplies. Adam recognized some of the women from his first visit. Already appearing alarmed by whatever was happening, the sight of Adam Smasher stalking through their office certainly did not alleviate any of their fears. Before he could interrogate them, another scream rang out with enough volume to make him wince. He headed down the closest hall, towards the source of the dreadful noise.
At the hall’s end there was a group of concerned women, Dr. Estrada, and a couple in civilian clothes. The couple was holding hands, both looking more terrified than the others. All stood by an open door. Their postures were rigid.
Dr. Estrada acknowledged Adam as he approached the scene.
Again, before Adam could ask what the hell was happening, another scream cried out followed by a deep, shaky sob.
It was only then did Adam realize that the pained voice was that of a child.
Dr. Estrada motioned for the merc to come closer, though he pressed a finger to his lips as he did so. Adam complied, his eyes peeking into the open doorway to see what the commotion was about.
The room was destroyed. Absolutely torn apart. Books, papers, and other office supplies littered the floor, along with broken glass, a shattered computer monitor, and a large couch completely flipped over and on its side. One piece of framed art hung crookedly above a large dent in the wall, the metal bent and scuffed.
Small whimpers could be heard with breaks of short sobs in between. It was there amongst the wreckage and debris of the office did Adam see two forms huddled behind the flipped furniture. A small child, a girl, stood hiccupping in a pink, frilly dress. Her shoes were gone, but that wasn’t what made her so striking. All of her limbs were artificial, all new and polished chrome.
The girl couldn’t have been any more than five years old.
Her modified hands were gripped into tight fists at her side as she stood before the crouched body of the woman.
Her.
The woman with the golden eyes.
Adam swallowed at seeing her again.
How poorly his memory served in recalling their vibrancy.
Dressed casually in a pair of dark jeans and a graphic t-shirt, the woman spoke calmly to the child.
“You’re very sad that our time is over,” she said. “I see your tears.”
Once more, the girl cried out. Adam winced at the painful noise, but his attention never turned from the woman’s face. The woman did not react at all.
“I hear you,” she stated. “You don’t want to leave, but it is time to go home-”
“No!” yelled the girl. “I-I don’t wanna go home-”
“I know. I hear you, but our special time is over for today. I will see you next week-”
“No!”
The girl’s metal hands then reached out and grabbed the woman’s face. Those in the hallway gasped.
But Adam, without a second thought, stepped forward and completely entered the room.
Both the woman and the child quickly looked up and stared at the large merc as he stood before them.
The child’s anger disappeared, twisting into pure fear at the sight of Adam’s glowering presence. Her small hands detached from the woman’s face as she drew closer to the woman’s body for comfort.
“You’re okay,” chided the woman softly into the child’s hair. “He won’t hurt you.”
“He looks mean,” argued the girl, her wide eyes never turning from Adam’s scowl.
“He does,” agreed the woman, a hint of amusement in her own voice. “But know what else I see?”
With a raised finger, the woman pointed to Adam’s exposed arms.
“This man has a body like yours,” shared the woman tenderly. “See his arms? See his head? See his face? Some of his body is different, too, and that’s okay.”
She winked at Adam playfully. His scowl, though still very much present, weakened slightly at the unexpected act.
“Its time to go home,” the woman repeated, this time a firm tenor to her words. “You can choose to walk with me to the elevator or your parents can help you. You have a choice.”
Stare never leaving Adam, the child nodded her head and took the woman by the hand. As if leading her away from danger, the child pulled at the woman’s hand with a new urgency. The woman mouthed for Adam to wait in the room as she rejoined the others in the hall. The door closed behind them.
Mentally, Adam was already kicking himself over how easy it was for his focus to be deterred, let alone how he reacted to seeing her in person again. Why he decided to insert himself in the chaos with the child, he had no clue. Didn’t give a fuck about children. So long as they stayed the hell away from him, there would be no issue. But something disturbed him in seeing how the child grabbed her, how the woman contained the pain she felt in the child’s sudden hold on her face.
The woman’s words and how they were said weren’t lost on Adam either. Not one bit. How this woman was able to deescalate tense situations and how similar her dialogue with the child was to their own exchange in the lobby infuriated him.
Is that how she perceived him?
Like that of a child?
“Sorry about that.”
Angry red eyes fell upon the woman as she closed the door behind her and began tip-toeing through the mess in the office. A small smile touched her full lips as she went to stand behind a metal desk.
“Sometimes its hard to go,” she continued with a shrug. “And although I appreciate your desire to help, please don’t interfere next time.”
Adam scoffed.
“I’ll do what I want.”
Sensing his attitude, the woman’s smile flattened into a pressed line.
“Yeah, I know, Adam,” she returned. “I know that you’ll do whatever you want. Which is why I’m glad you decided to come back so we can go over how exactly this all will work out.”
“’Bout fucking time,” he groused.
To his surprise, the woman scoffed and shook her head.
Adam immediately crossed the room to stand over her. He savored how far she had to crane her head up to meet his eyes.
“Something I say amuse you?” he challenged darkly.
What he expected was her instant submission.
What he expected was her to avert her eyes like everyone else, to deny she did anything or apologize altogether, and to wait for his next command.
What he didn’t expect was what came next.
“Yes, actually,” she stated, not even hesitating to pay back his hard stare with one of her own. “Yes, I find it amusing that you’re so inconvenienced by your own stubbornness and are trying to blame me for it. You had the choice to cooperate with our policy and chose to strangle my colleague because we held up our expectation, then you have the nerve to come into my workplace, my office, demand for an appointment, and then proceed to complain because of the stalling that you yourself created. Does this normally work for you? This whole standing-over-me-tough-guy routine? Because I can do this all damn day. I really can. Know why? Because I do do this all damn day, but last I checked we both are pretty busy adults and I’d like to not have my time wasted by your outdated ways of handling things. Or is this some kind of foreplay to you?”
Oh.
Oh, where was he to begin with that?
It took every ounce of patience and self-control to not pick her up and shove her against a wall. No one spoke to him like that. No one questioned him the way she did, whether there was some truth to her words or not. Fortunately for her, she was named as a person of importance to Arasaka. Fortunately for her, there were still many questions that she held the answers to, her value in that light being the only reason she still breathed and was alive to argue with him.
“Who,” he began, his voice low and tightly controlled. “The fuck are you?”
A smile, one that hinted at some little victory, he figured, one that somehow made Adam even angrier, pulled at her lips.
“Bothered you, didn’t it?” she said. “Thought it would. You’re not used to waiting-”
“Answer me-”
“I’m Lumen,” she answered. “Dr. Lumen Furi.”
Not bothering to wait for his reply, the woman stepped away from the desk and began tidying up the office. Adam watched as she began making small piles of all the trash and debris, his anger still very much pulsing through his body. Anger from how she was talking to him, how she dared to tease him and make smartass comments in response to his voiced frustration. That anger was there, true, but more so was Adam upset with himself for how he allowed it and how learning her actual name brought some relief.
“The contract,” began Lumen. “Is one that I don’t really like.”
“What is it?”
A sigh.
Her face wore a look of disdain as she turned to speak to the merc.
“I’m conducting research on cyberpsychosis and crisis intervention,” she said. “I want to know if mental health crises are related to cyberpsychosis and even though I think it is, its 2070 and people still think that it’s just a hardware problem. They’re not looking at it seriously, at least not from a mental health standpoint, so I need hard data to prove my theory. And that’s where you come in.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Myself, Dr. Estrada, and some of the other researchers will be working with law enforcement and a Trauma Team convoy to provide crisis support to different neighborhoods in Night City. As you can imagine, it can be pretty risky work and we’re sorta ‘ride alongs’. Trauma Team has enough on their plate and covering our asses isn’t something they need to be concerned about. Arasaka is already backing our research, so-”
“Why?”
She shrugged.
“I guess they want in on the medical market? Not entirely sure. Don’t really care. What I do know is that they offered your services to aid in our groundwork.”
“In security.”
“Yep.”
“For how long?”
“Three months, once or twice a week, depending on the city region and time of day. Starting next week now that you decided to show up.”
His tempter bristled at the snarkiness in that last comment, but he decidedly shifted his focus to the contract instead. The jobs that he detested the most were that of security or protective services. He’d prefer that the only ass he cover was his own, and often the target was too slow, dumb, or fragile to make his job any easier. Although the woman appeared to be in good shape and proved her intelligence in their limited interactions, her ability to defend herself wasn’t clear, not yet. If anything, all she proved to him was that she enjoyed throwing herself in the middle of dangerous situations, a trait that wasn’t valuable to her new bodyguard.
“Fine.”
The word caused the woman to perk up. The sight entertained him.
“But I have limits,” he added. “Hard ones. And if you refuse to abide by them, you’ll either die or this contract is null.”
Her arms crossed, but she looked at him with expectation.
“Going to teach you some basic self-defense so you don’t get yourself killed. Until you do that with me then I won’t allow you to go into the field. Period. Next, I want to know what cyberware you do have and outfit you with defensive cyberware should anyone get too close.”
“Isn’t that your job?” she quipped. “To make sure no one gets ‘too close’?”
“Something tells me that you’ll fuck it all up and I’m not about to let you ruin this for me.”
He caught it. Small, but he saw that flash of rebellion, that grain of resistance, before she checked herself and pursed those lips shut.
“Last,” continued Adam. “You get a tracker.”
“Why-”
“Because I fucking said so. That’s why.”
The two stared at one another with enough intensity to start a fire. She didn’t balk at his stature, nor at how harshly his eyes took her in.
“Might I suggest a compromise?” she questioned.
“I don’t do compromises-”
“Humor me.”
When he didn’t argue, she resumed.
“If I have to have a babysitter, then I also would like a tracker for you.”
“What good-”
“Because I fucking said so.”
At that, Adam couldn’t help himself. He stomped towards her with enough force that she stepped back, pressing herself against the desk. His frame enveloped hers, all black camouflage and large arms caging her in on either side of her hips. Sitting on top of the desk, she gaped with wide eyes up at the furious mercenary, his face inches from hers as he towered over her body in muted rage.
“This is my job, my fucking ass on the line, and I’m not letting anyone, anybody, fuck up all the shit I had to do to get where I am,” he declared, voice shaking. “I don’t give a shit about who you think you are, I’m the one who says how this contract will go. Me!”
That’s it, he thought, his eyes unashamedly studying every curve and how that primal fear shattered that confident front of hers.
That’s what he liked to see.
The fear.
The uncertainty.
He got drunk on it, finally, the sight of her weakness, the proof that she was like everyone else.
Standing so close to her body, Adam picked up on the deep notes of her perfume.
“Is this what you wanted?” he growled, a new lowness coating his voice. His body shifted to stand more directly between her knees, causing her legs to spread. “Is this that ‘foreplay’ you were bitching about, Lumen?”
No response came from her at first.
Nothing.
Nothing new for him to be challenged with.
Nothing special.
But just as he felt that familiar burst of empowerment swell in his chest, the woman did something to instantly snuff it out.
Gently.
Kindly.
With a soft hand, the woman reached up and cupped Adam’s face. His own hand shot up to grip her wrist, a hard warning. It was ignored. Completely ignored as her thumb lightly stroked his cheekbone with an easy slowness. He swallowed.
As his smirk fell as did the look of uncertainty from her own face. Golden eyes glittered with something warm, something that Adam couldn’t quite define. A raw energy hummed between them as she held him there, held him in a paradoxical space of peace and a primal urgency to do something more.
A small smile.
“I love your eyes,” her voice said in a near whisper. “Red. They fit you.”
Just as his mouth parted to reply, an incoming call crossed his HUD. Adam moved away from her and the desk as if her hand burned. Her smile remained as he answered the call, the client on the other end simply informing him that he was running behind and would be late to their scheduled appointment.
“I’ll see you next Wednesday,” stated that woman above the sound of the client’s words. “You can go.”
And that he did. Adam held his composure, but never has he left a client as quickly as he did that that day.
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leiascully · 4 years ago
Text
5 Conversations Between Maggie and Mulder
By @agirlcalledNarelle - I think Maggie and Mulder had a complicated relationship. Here’s my take on a few shared moments between them….
4,7k words. Here on AO3. 
1. 1995
The Glasgow room, otherwise known as events room B, is empty and cavernous when he arrives. Sound bounces off the walls from the other early guests and is presented back to them in an awkward offering.  Helium balloons dance timidly from their weights along the outskirt of the room. Mulder slinks in like a cat and nurses a beer as he watches the room fill. He did not go to the graveyard.
Thankfully the event grows into the space, and the hum of conversation encourages more of the same. There is laughter. Recent friends wear brightly coloured outfits, paisley shirts and ethereal skirts. The family wear black, but wicked humour sparkles through their sad smiles. Scully and Maggie arrive, accompanied by a smattering of aunts, uncles, cousins. It’s strange to see Scully with a support network which excludes him. He doesn’t feel like he can approach her; he will wait for her. They make eye contact briefly, and she moves towards him before being intercepted by someone. Maggie smiles as she speaks, but he sees her glance frequently around the room for her remaining daughter as if proving to herself that she is still here, that she hasn’t lost Dana too. 
There is never enough food at events like this. Out of some misguided sense of chivalry which no one witnesses, he is late to the buffet and picks at the remaining trays. Having made small talk with some cousins from Wisconsin, he sits furtively at a table for two, hoping his vibes deter anyone from making any further effort.
‘Fox.’ He looks up, mid-room temperature shrimp half-way to his mouth, to see Maggie standing at his elbow with Scully behind her. Mulder can see foundation gathering in the creases around her eyes. Her cheeks have has sunk, no longer blooming from happy memories. Mulder stands and wipes his mouth on a napkin.
‘Mrs Scully,’ he kisses Maggie on the cheek. ‘I’m so very sorry about Melissa.’
‘Thank you.’ Her eyes are shiny pebbles from the bottom of a stream, clear and hard. Mulder gulps, his mouth dry, and wipes his hands on his napkin, frustrated he has nothing of value to offer when she suddenly speaks, low and forcefully. ‘Tell me, Fox. Was it worth it? Was what you found worth it?’
‘Come on, Mom, let’s go say hi to the Denman’s. I see them over there.’ Scully puts her hand on her mother’s arm and pushes her gently away. He watches them, relieved to avoid further interrogation, and considers making a quiet exit when Scully turns and mouths ‘don’t go.’ Damn. Suddenly no longer hungry, he pushes his plate to the opposite place setting and waits. He watches.
Scully and Maggie work the room, sometimes together, sometimes apart. They are the only members of the immediate Scully family representing Melissa to her mourners. The extended family, comprising of short women and tall men, make sure that Scully’s wine glass never fully empties. Maggie favours brandy. She remembers the names of Melissa’s childhood friends and greets her adult friends with generous hugs. Laughter abounds as family reacquaints and friends rediscover commonalities.  Each table hosts a framed photo of Melissa, and on this table, there is a photo of the Scully children in front of a big fish that Bill Junior has caught. Melissa is tall, beautiful with early-teen self-consciousness, smiling without teeth. Dana is at least 6 inches smaller, her face chubby and framed with bangs, and excitedly pointing at the fish with her two index fingers, her mouth open in a perfect ‘o’.
The sun takes polite grief with it as it sets, and the mood of the room shifts towards a more frantic, unrestrained celebration. Ties are loosened, music starts to play, and voices grow louder as the guests realise their hours for remembering Melissa together will soon draw to a close. Scully sits opposite him, pushing aside the remaining plate of food. Her eyes are glassy, her cheeks pink. A tissue peeks out of her cardigan sleeve, and her mascara is slightly smudged under her left eye. She smiles languidly and rests her chin in her hand. They hear Maggie laugh across the room with the cousins from Wisconsin. They are both taller than her, and one wraps her into a bear hug. She has the effusiveness of a dinner party host, eager to inform everyone where the food is and to help themselves to drinks. In the gap between conversation, Mulder sees Maggie staring into the middle distance, steeling herself to share the next anecdote.
‘I don’t know how she does it,’ Mulder remarks.
‘This is the fun part,’ Scully says, her s’s slightly stretched. ‘Remembering Missy with all her favourite people. And some of her not-so-favourite people.’ They watch Maggie take another brandy from the waitress. ‘She’ll crash later once we’re in the cab. I’m staying with her tonight.’
‘Can I take you both home?’ Mulder asks, suddenly wanting to do at least this for Scully and her mother.
‘Thank you, but that’s not necessary, Mulder.’
‘Please, I’d like to.
Scully appraises him, draining her wine. ‘She’s not herself today, you know. Don’t give it another thought.’
No apology, Mulder notes.
‘I know. She was right to ask. She has the right to ask, I mean. She should ask.’
‘She does. She should.’ Scully gazes lovingly at her mom, eyes misting with tears before someone else catches her eye, causing her to giggle into her hand like a schoolgirl. ‘Oh no. Missy would be devastated to know that Sam Charleston is here. She had the biggest crush on him when she started her first job, and he kept her well and truly in the friend zone.’
‘Go say hi. Go mingle.’
She leans on her knuckles to steady herself as she stands. ‘If that offer is still open…. That would be nice. We would love a lift back.’
‘Of course.’
‘Oh, and Mulder,’ she says as she starts to totter away. ‘We’re Irish. This is going to be a late one.’
‘I’ll be here.’
2. 1997
Mulder wakes to the shadow of someone standing over him. Blinking, his back burns as he sits up in his plastic chair.
‘Go home, Fox,’ Maggie says. ‘You should get some rest. In a proper bed.’
Her eyes are bright, too wide, like a child who has eaten all their Halloween candy in one sitting, twitchy and hyper. The hall is quiet, the bustle of the day replaced with a cloak of calm inevitability as some patients gather their strength for another day, and some succumb to the everlasting sleep which floats through these rooms like a genie, offering to grant the most desperate wishes.
‘Uh, I can’t seem to leave.’ He rubs his neck. ‘Is Scully ok?’
‘She’s just fallen asleep.’ Maggie sits beside him. She rubs her hands over her face and reaches for his hand. It’s an intimate move, but a hospital at 3am is an intimate, almost holy place and those who witness it are bound by their understanding of this. He covers her hand with his, a silent gesture of solidarity.
Maggie, Bill and Mulder haven’t slept properly in days; Scully sleeps too much for all of them. She can’t smell, can’t taste, doesn’t eat. Her headaches are sudden and vicious, the only respite being ever-stronger painkillers and sleep. Suddenly her teeth start to grind. She loses track of conversation, eyes, fingers and face all clenched, and Mulder presses her painkiller button in frustration that this is all he can do. All the road signs are pointing towards morphine. No one mentions it explicitly, knowing it will likely be the last landmark for Scully.
‘Where’s Bill?’
‘He’s gone back. To pick up some clothes, pick up my copy of Little Women for Dana.’ Maggie rests her head against the wall and closes her eyes. ‘When she’s awake I’m worried that she’s not getting enough rest, and when she’s asleep I just want to wake her. It’s like she’s 2 weeks old all over again.’
Mulder stays quiet.
‘She’s stopped arguing with me, have you noticed? She doesn’t have the energy. I just want to see her eyes flash at me again, I want that ‘here we go again’ feeling one more time. I’m trying to remember the last time we did that. I’m trying to remember.’
‘Mrs Scully, you can’t give up hope, not yet.’ Mulder teeters of the edge of acceptance but hasn’t fallen into that hole just yet: its depth is too deep, too dark, and he’s not sure he would recognise the man who comes out the other side. He needs his anger to stay on track for Scully, to keep going, and more importantly in this moment now, to stay awake.
‘Fox, I haven’t given up hope, far from it,’ Maggie’s voice is tired and resigned. ‘But you can’t deny what we’re seeing. We can’t expect things from Dana that she can’t give us. Then it’s not fair on her.’
Mulder feels this new perspective like a splash of cold water on his face. He hadn’t considered the impact of his unending fight on Scully. Did she feel like she had to perform for him? Did she gather her strength every time he entered the room to protect him from what was happening, to allow him his little charade? Does the energy needed for his visits mean more frequent headaches, more pain? His shoulders slump further as more guilt settles across them.
Maggie’s head suddenly brushes his shoulder, and she looks up in surprise, blinking. A microsleep.
‘Mrs Scully, you should take your own advice.’ He squeezes her hand where it still rests in his. ‘Get some proper rest.’
Maggie shakes her head. ‘There’s the meeting with Dana’s doctor first thing. And then the Priest is stopping by.’
The meeting is to learn the consultant recommendation after examining the chip that Mulder had offered him like frankincense. They had scanned it, taken photos, made notes, but the chip itself remained in Mulder’s pocket at his insistence.
‘I hope you know I respect the work of the priest.’ Mulder clears his throat, not sure of his next words. ‘I’m not exactly what you’d call a good disciple, but I’m willing to try anything at this point. And I know what it means to Dana.’
‘I won’t lie, I don’t like the idea of this chip, Fox. But you’ve earned the right to an opinion here. And anyway, Dana will do what she thinks is best: she won’t have anyone else make this choice for her.’
‘I know. I just wanted you to know that … I just want to make sure we’ve tried everything.’
Maggie stands and puts a hand to his cheek, her hand soft against his stubble. It’s a move he’s done to Scully before, but he had underestimated how much comfort it brings. He wants to nuzzle into her hand, to close his eyes and rest in the warmth.
‘I know you love her, Fox. You love her as she deserves to be loved. I do wish you might show it with roses instead of computer chips,’ she smiles ruefully. ‘But there aren’t words to convey how grateful I’ve been to see your love for my daughter over these past few weeks.’
He watches her go back into Scully’s dark room. They both wait, in different rooms, for the sun to rise on the day when Scully’s holy trinity of faith, family and work will entwine around her like the roots of a tree in a final attempt to nourish her back to health.
3. 1998
It is still dark when they pull up outside the house, but someone has clocked their arrival and the front door flings open. Maggie waves, wrapping her cardigan around her, and gestures inwards.
‘You have to come in now, you realise,’ Scully says as she unbuckles her belt.
‘Oh, no, Scully, I don’t want to do that. You be with your family. It’s 6:30am.’
‘Come on, you’ll offend her. You don’t want to offend my mother on Christmas morning, do you Mulder?’ Scully teases. ‘Or do you? Is that what you want?’
He sighs and walks with her towards the house. Modest fairy lights twinkle on the porch, and the Christmas tree glows from the front window. Mulder can see tasteful, coordinated ornaments and the outline of people in the front room. Already the Scully Christmas is in stark contrast to Christmas at his mother’s house: a quiet affair with two lonely presents under a tree that never seems to stand straight, decorated with all Fox and Samantha’s homemade decorations from over the years. A roast chicken that would invariably burn as Teena became engrossed in a Christmas movie and Mulder slept on the couch. They would end the day with a quiet game of Scrabble. He feels a protective pang in his chest: it’s not much of a Christmas, but it’s their Christmas. Teena is never outwardly demonstrative, but he knows he is loved. She has saved all his crafts, every homemade Mother’s Day and Christmas card. I’ll call her later, he promises to himself as he walks to the porch, swallowing the bitter taste of treachery as he crosses another mother’s threshold on Christmas morning.
‘Come in, come in! Merry Christmas!’ Maggie exclaims as they stamp the snow from their shoes. They are her first gifts of the day as she unwraps their coats and scarves. ‘Fox, what an unexpected surprise.’
‘Uh, Scully’s car didn’t start, so I gave her a lift,’ he said lamely, hoping the explanation doesn’t lead to more questions.
‘Well, you can at least stay for breakfast.’ She stands on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He is uncomfortable, unused to meeting Maggie outside of a crisis. He doesn’t have anything to offer her, not even a Christmas card, and he almost regrets offering Scully a lift this morning. He had been high on infatuation, waking after their late-night ghost hunt to find Scully snuffling under the covers next to him like a grumpy guinea pig, her scruffy red hair poking out from under the covers.
‘Thank you, Mrs Scully, that would be great. I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything.’
‘Please, Fox, it’s a last-minute invite. It’s enough that you’re here.’ Mulder smiles, and sends a thought remembering his mother at the Vineyard on her own. It might be called a prayer, if he was a man of any sort of religious faith.
‘Sorry we’re late, Mom.’
‘Don’t be silly, Dana, I don’t know why we have to meet at such an ungodly time anyway.’ She ushers them into the living room. Bill sits in front of the tree wearing a Santa hat, his son perched in his lap lifting and shaking any gift in his proximity. Scully hugs her sister-in-law affectionately, and Mulder notes that something has thawed between them since San Diego.
‘What’s he doing here?’ Bill asks in surprise, quickly removing his Santa hat.
‘Hush now, Bill,’ Maggie says easily, entering with a tray of mugs and a cafetière full of coffee. ‘It’s too early to be so contrary.’
‘I just think it’s odd that her work colleague is in our living room at 6:30am.‘
‘Bill, please. Fox is Dana’s partner, and they get to decide the context of that. Not us.’
Mulder glances at Scully. He’s not sure what Maggie has just insinuated, or what Scully has been saying to make Maggie to make her think that way. They’re still walking this path cautiously, and yet Mulder feels like Maggie has just confirmed something fundamental that neither had fully acknowledged yet.  Scully reflects his surprise, raising an eyebrow before looking back at her brother.
‘Admit it, Bill,’ Scully says, ‘you’re just embarrassed that Mulder’s seen you in your jimmy jams.’
There is a pause in the room before Bill spreads his hands and laughs.
‘Guilty. Grab a seat, Mulder, let’s see if there’s a lump of coal under here somewhere for you.’ Scully squeezes his arm in solidarity. Mulder sees the steel under Bill’s smile and nods, accepting the tentative olive branch.
‘Excellent.’ Maggie sits beside the tree and pulls Matthew onto her lap, who desperately reaches towards the tree. ‘My grandson has been patient enough. Now that we’re all here, and caffeinated, how about we open some presents?’
4. 2001
Mulder stares through the nursery glass at the eight babies wriggling in their little beds. It’s like a very small and very strange zoo exhibition. I’m sorry guys, he thinks, visiting hours have just started for you. His baby is back row left, wearing a blue hat and sleeping with his mouth slightly open, oblivious to all the motion and emotion surrounding him.
Scully needed stitches. The doctors were not happy with her delivery in general, and Mulder felt them glance suspiciously in his direction when he wasn’t looking. They had also given Scully a sedative: she had been shaking with shock and exhaustion, having had no sleep during the 16 hours since the delivery. In the helicopter she had gripped her son with a haunted look in her eyes, only reluctantly handing him to the nurse when the desire to have him checked over outweighed her instinct to hold tight. Go with him, she’d begged, the force of his hand squashing his fingers, don’t leave him alone. Make sure he’s ok. Please, Mulder. He’d wanted to stay until she slept, but his continued presence only made her more anxious. He had left her, weak and weepy with her legs in stirrups, as exposed and vulnerable as a person could find themselves. The nurse had offered to bring the baby to Mulder to hold, but without Scully it feels like a betrayal somehow. He is satisfied just peering through the window, admiring his perfect lips and nose.
‘Fox,’ he turns to see Maggie standing at his shoulder. Her face is tight, her clenched teeth barely restraining her anger. His stomach drops as he feels himself ride over the crest of a rollercoaster.
‘Mrs Scully. Did you just arrive?’
‘I tried to visit Dana but they said she’s sleeping.’ Maggie has yet to put her overnight bag down, her knuckles white as she grips the handles. ‘Do you mind telling me what happened? How my daughter got to Georgia?’
‘Scully, uh, she was in danger and so we thought it safest if she left DC.’ Maggie purses her lips. Mulder’s palms are sweaty. What had made perfect sense at the time was now sounding reckless and stupid.
‘I see. And why Georgia?’
‘We needed somewhere unexpected, somewhere that no one would know.’
‘How exactly did she get here?’
‘One of her colleagues drove her. Special Agent Reyes, you may have met her, she’s been working with Scully for the last, well really for the last 6 months now.’ Mulder felt with each answer Maggie was coiling tighter and tighter, preparing to strike.  ‘Scully likes her, trusts her, so it seemed like the best choice.’
‘I see. Where were you?’
‘I was trying to make sure that the people who were trying to get Scully didn’t. Couldn’t.
‘And did you succeed?’
‘No, no I didn’t. But they didn’t get her, thank god.’
‘You didn’t succeed,’ Maggie says, shaking her head slowly. ‘You sent my little girl to some abandoned town in the middle of nowhere, with no electricity, running water, or even any antibacterial spray, to give birth on her own with only a colleague she’s known for 6 months for support. Is any of this inaccurate?’
‘No, it’s not.’ Mulder’s voice is quiet in contrast to Maggie’s increasing volume.
‘Do you mind telling me what on earth you were thinking?’ Maggie finally shouts, throwing her jacket at him. He catches it clumsily. ‘How could you do this, Fox? In what possible way was this the best solution?’
The tiredness, anxiety and fear which Mulder had been suppressing for the last 72 hours bursts forth, and he is suddenly possessed by rage.
‘Excuse me, Maggie, can I call you Maggie? I think it’s about time, don’t you?’ His voice is quiet but violent. Maggie blinks in surprise and takes a step back. ‘This is my son we’re talking about here. My –‘ he falters as he thinks of Scully in the third room down the corridor, sleeping while her injuries are stitched. His chest hurts with the ferocity of his love for her. ‘This is my whole world. I didn’t just send them away for a jaunt down South. It wasn’t for the fun of it. If we hadn’t have sent them away, in all likelihood we wouldn’t have either of them right now.’
Maggie presses her fingers to her lips as tears slide down her cheeks. Mulder immediately hates himself for shouting at her, she who has already lost so much as a result of Scully’s dogged insistence to stay by his side. He too blinks away tears as he realises what is about to happen next: Scully isn’t going to see her mother meet her grandchild, Scully’s miracle son. She will miss their introduction.
‘I daresay you’re right,’ Maggie mutters. ‘Everything you’ve said matches what Mr Skinner told me. I know you had no choice. But, my god Fox, another phone call, another panicked rush to a hospital, this time in Georgia. I don’t know how many more times I can do this.’
‘I know, Mrs Scully,’ Mulder rubs her shoulder tentatively, taking her bag from her.
‘Please, you’re right, you should call me Maggie,’ she huffs, wiping her eyes. ‘I know you did what you thought was best. But I can’t pretend I understand or agree with it. I think I have to ask you for a little more time before we’re in the same room together.’
Mulder nods. ‘I understand, Maggie. I want to check on Scully anyway, make sure she’s ok. Before I go, let me show you your grandson. There he is: he’s the champ in the top left. See him?’
Mulder sees her face soften, and she places her fingers lightly on the glass window, drinking in every detail of the baby.
‘Oh Fox…’, she murmurs, ‘he’s beautiful. Look at him. He looks like you, you know.’
‘You think?’
‘That bottom lip, there’s no doubt.’ She sighs. ‘He’s wonderful.’
‘Do you want to hold him?’
‘Can I? Have you?’
‘No… no. I’m going to wait for Scully… But you really should. You know how angry she’ll be if she wakes up to learn that neither of us held him this whole time. She would want you to.’
Maggie nods. Without speaking, without eye contact, she holds his hand briefly in thanks. Mulder recognises her resolve; he knows Maggie is happier now she has something practical to focus on. Her face betrays her excitement as she flags down a nurse. He carries her bag with him and opens the third door down the corridor where he is greeted by Scully’s pale face, her anxiety having vanished in sleep.
5. 2005
Mulder hears the gravel crunch under the car as Scully pulls up into the drive. He turns on the grill but stubbornly keeps his back turned as Scully and her mother enter the house. This is Maggie’s first visit to their unremarkable house, their little haven. For the last six months, Scully has met her in the city, at neutral settings or at Maggie’s place. They told each other it was for safety, that it was better for both Mulder and Maggie that they didn’t put Maggie in a position of consorting with a fugitive, but they both knew the truth: they were scared of what Maggie might say. Of how she might react to seeing Mulder again, after so many years on the run.
Scully arrived home from her first meeting with Maggie with red eyes and a stuffy nose.
How was it? Mulder had asked.
It was great. Amazing. It was so good to see her again. Her replies were short, and Mulder heard her unspoken words. They had gone to bed without speaking any further that night.
After six months, Maggie had finally asked to see where Dana and her outlaw partner were living. A Fourth of July barbeque seemed like a good occasion, the external focus distracting from any tension. Scully bought fireworks and s’mores ingredients; Mulder built a bonfire ready for the evening.
He hears footsteps on the deck and turns to see Maggie. They study each other quietly: her white hair, wrists tightly covered by crepe-paper skin, his lined face and wider jaw. He’s been waiting for this moment since Scully floated the idea with him. Now it had arrived, he realised how many lost years sat between them. Maggie stands a metre away, but the distance is a metal spring that stretches wider and wider and wider.
‘Hello Fox,’ she says, and her voice takes him back to hospitals, to phone calls, to missing people and conversations haunted by death.
‘Hi Maggie.’ He doesn’t move, and neither does she. He wants to tell her he’s sorry, but he doesn’t want to accept sole responsibility. He wants to ask for forgiveness, but he isn’t afraid of defending his choices. He wants to ask how she’s been, what their absence felt like for her, but surely the hole they left in her life is too great for him to think about patching up now. Behind him, the barbeque hisses as the fat drips from the meat.
‘Dana tells me you built this deck.’
‘I did, yes. It was my first project when we moved in. Where is Scully?’
‘She’s getting the potato salad ready.’ Mulder looks towards the house and cringes inwardly when he sees no sign of her. ‘It’s lovely out here.’
‘It is.’ Suddenly he’s sick of this dance. ‘Maggie, I want you to know –‘
‘Fox, I think we’ve had enough.’ Her assertiveness catches him unawares and he stops. ‘Don’t you agree? Enough anger, enough apologies, enough guilt.’
He nods cautiously.
‘What did Scully say about our time away?’ He asks. Maggie sighs and looks at her hands.
‘She didn’t say a lot. She mentioned motels, some kitchen work. You know how she is. She stopped talking before she got in over her head.’
‘Are you…. Mad?’
‘Oh, I’ve been mad alright. Father McCue can attest to that.’ Mulder turns back to the meat, and Maggie stands beside him. She looks so like her daughter out of the corner of his eye; there’s a familiarity between Mulder and Maggie that he’d forgotten about. All the fear they’ve shared together sits within a current of energy between them. ‘But I don’t want to be mad anymore.’
The spring suddenly snaps back into shape.
‘That’s good to hear,’ Mulder turns the meat. ‘I was afraid I was going to get my ass kicked.’
Maggie chuckles and Mulder suddenly sees that their bonfire, fireworks and s’mores will be genuinely delightful.
‘Just stay, though, please?’ She asks tentatively. He realises that their détente is quick but delicate, in need of nurture. ‘Stay here. Let me visit occasionally. Maybe there’s a room that I might one day come to think of as being mine. Just let me see you both.’
‘Maggie… Of course we will. You’re welcome here any time. At any time.’
‘What are you two talking about?’ They both turn to see Scully approaching with a tray of salad and iced tea. Her small smile is cautious and there’s apprehension in her eyes.
‘I was just about to ask Fox why the deck slants to the left.’ Maggie takes the tray from Scully and kisses her cheek.
‘Maggie, I’ll have you know this is excellent craftsmanship. It slants so the water can drain off effectively.’ They sit at the table together, with Scully looking from her mother and her partner. Her face glows in a way he hasn’t seen for years, and he squeezes her hand under the table. He is pleased to have brought her back, happy to have given her a home. She is starting to thrive. She looks at him, her eyes shiny with tears.
‘Look at me, I’m being ridiculous,’ she laughs, wiping her eyes.  ‘I’m just so glad we’re all here together.’
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a-tale-of-two-comics · 4 years ago
Note
Just wondering when I can read part 7 of I can't save her?👉👈😗
Hey love! I don’t know why @supportTumblr hasn’t responded to my message yet about re-instating the post. They apparently flagged a gif, that they deemed offensive... even though the people had clothes on :| anyways, in the mean time -- here is the chapter while we wait for them to hopefully respond to them:
I Can’t Save Her: Part 7
The following weeks began to fall into a routine. Bucky and Steve were mainly gone on missions. No one would talk about what they were actually doing, and they didn’t seem overly willing to give any information to the group. Bucky was particularly mercurial which wasn’t anything new – usually I would confront him about it and snap him out of it, but I felt like his kiss and subsequent behavior put me at a disadvantage, and I spent most of my time actively trying to avoid being alone with him. I was exasperated and more than ever I felt completely alone. What made the situation even worse was the fact that Steve wouldn’t look me in the eyes which told me more than I ever needed to know.
One night I awoke screaming out, drenched in sweat, and trembling. “Ms. Y/N is there a way I can assist you?” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice permeated the darkness in my room. Tony had programmed F.R.I.D.A.Y. to respond to any type of distress – he said it was for the safety of the team in case a situation ever happened, but I knew it was really his way of looking out for me. In many ways we were alike – we struggled silently with our demons.
“Just find me something that will comfort me, please,” I responded to the bodiless voice.
“Waking Sargent Barnes,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. responded. Before I could protest I could already hear Bucky walking down the hallway and opening my door.
“Y/N?” he asked hesitantly as my bed shifted under his weight.
“I’m afraid F.R.I.D.A.Y takes my sarcasm seriously,” I replied meekly as I peeked at him through my eyelashes. “I’m okay… you should go back to bed.” It was quite apparent that I was not okay, but I still put on my best stubborn front.
“No,” he replied softly as he moved the covers to slide under them. I could immediately feel his warmth around me and it silenced my protests. My iciness towards him melted as he wrapped his arms around me. It was like being home when we had these moments, but now part of me tried to actively resist the comfort he provided. My subconscious was trying its damnedest to keep me from suffering further. I looked at him and realized I hadn’t noticed how tired and strained his face had looked since we had last spent time together. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked through my hair.
I gritted my teeth. “No,” I replied stubbornly.
He snorted into my ear. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?” At this my anger peaked and I managed to squirm out of his embrace.
“Me? Stubborn?... You kissed me, and then you disappeared on me. Why…why would you do that? If you thought it was a mistake… you should have just told me. Don’t throw away the friendship we have. I know you’ve talked to Steve about something… he won’t even look at me. Now I have Tony taking time to program F.R.I.D.A.Y. to take care of me…” I broke off with an angry huff.
Bucky paused and looked at me earnestly, “I’m sorry… I..” he stopped. He looked pained— like he was torn between wanting to tell me the truth and wanting to stay away.
“What is it that you’re not telling me?” I asked trying to keep my voice even.
He looked away from me and began running his hands through his hair. “I was so fucking terrified Y/N.”
“Terrified of what?” I asked impatiently.
“Of losing you,” he said pinning me under his gaze. His eyes showed so many emotions. Pain, urgency, sadness, and a desire to say all the things he had held back from me. “I’ve lost everything in my life that ever mattered. HYDRA took away my life, my choices, and everyone I ever cared about. My parents died thinking that their son died a war hero… when I was turned into a monster.... And then Steve found me and brought me back from the edge. He brought me here against my better judgment and I thought to myself that maybe this wouldn’t work…. maybe I’m always going to be a monster, and then you show up and you’re so perfectly imperfect… and you see me not as a monster… not as what I am capable of… not as a machine or a weapon. You see me. Just me.” He paused as I stared at him dumbfounded. “I knew you were mad at me the night that you got back from the party with Tony…. That’s why I tried to take care of you from a distance…” he broke off.
“That was you?” my voice came out more like a whisper. I was still processing all the things he had just confessed to me. The suddenness of his honesty made me feel dizzy. “The mission?” I asked. My thoughts were in fragments and I was finding it increasingly difficult to form words.
He diverted his eyes from me and his whole body tensed. “I can’t tell you doll. I’m sorry. I truly am. But it’s for your own good that you don’t know...” he trailed off.
“You get that I don’t need you to protect me from the world, right Buck?” Even as I was saying it I realized it was much harsher than I meant for it to be.
Bucky flinched at my words but found his resolve and looked up at me. “I am perfectly aware that you can take care of yourself. It doesn’t mean you should have to all the time,” he said through his teeth. I could tell his emotions were teetering on the edge of anger. “Some battles aren’t yours to face, Y/N. You’re too busy carrying everyone else’s burdens to even have a second of joy. And more than anything I want to give you joy. For the first time since I fell off that train… since HYDRA…  you’ve given it to me,” he continued with such urgency and emotion that I was afraid his metal hand would crush the headboard it was now clenching. He paused for a moment and finally whispered, “I care about you, and it scares me. It scares me for you because everything good that I touch turns to shit.”
“It was about you…” I responded quietly – looking at my upturned palms. Bucky looked at me – shocked out of his thoughtful monologue.
“What?” he said puzzled at first and then realization spread across his face.
“I dreamt that we were happy and you walked away from me… or you were ripped away… The dream varies each time I have it,” the words were bitter on my tongue. This particular nightmare had been playing on loop for days. Every night I had him ripped from me by unknown forces that I couldn’t control or fight. It was my own personal hell. It insured that I always woke up with a broken heart. “And it was like my heart had been ripped from my body…” I paused, looking up at him. My words came out as a small whisper, “I know you think you need me James, but what you don’t know is how much I need you. I know I have the others… but without you I don’t feel like I belong here. You were there when the others weren’t. You’re the only one that knows the things I love. You’re the only one that knows the things I fear, or how my past still haunts me.”
He was hesitant. It was one of the few times I had seen actual fear on his face. My fingers ached to touch him as I relaxed back into his embrace. His hold on me tightened at I traced his jaw with my finger lightly. This time it was my turn to take him by surprise. I couldn’t hold myself back – not after we had both laid our truths bare in front of the other. His answering kiss was reluctant at first – he was trying so desperately to hold himself back – to grasp his last shred of self-control. Slowly his resolve melted as I twisted my fingers in his hair and pulled him closer. His hands travelled down my body erupting every nerve as they went.  Suddenly his self-control snapped back into place and he broke away from the kiss – leaving us both breathless. He grinned at me shyly and pulled back slightly with an admiring look on his face. “So do you forgive me?” he asked – the humor fading from his face.
“You have to promise me something first,” I said.
“What would that be, doll?” he asked with a spark of triumph in his eyes. His revelation to me seemed to have lifted an invisible burden from him.
“You promise me, James Buchanan Barnes, that we’ll always be honest to each other. The only way you will ever lose me is if you push me away.”
His face lit up into a dazzling smile – the kind that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “I think that’s certainly a promise I can keep. Will you promise me something in return?” he asked hesitantly.
“Of course.”
“Promise me you’ll be patient with me. Promise me you won’t leave,” his voice was sweet – like a child making his parents pinky swear there wasn’t a monster under his bed.
“I promise,” I replied and kissed him softly.
“Now… speaking of patience… let’s maybe just use this bed for sleep tonight,” he sighed as he snuggled closer to me.
“Whatever you say James.” I snuggled into his arms sleepily as he sighed with contentment. I felt a cautious happiness rise inside of me. I knew I was treading on dangerous ground, but for the time being we were both happy and I had him back. I wasn’t about to throw myself into worrying about the future – not yet at least. I yawned and slowly drifted back to sleep.
God I wish I had worried about the future.
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kimjongdaely · 6 years ago
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My Pet Human [Chapter 18]
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Vampire!AU
Pairing: Chen x Reader
Warnings: mention of blood, violence, slavery and sexual situations.
Summary: Every wrong step, every wrong turn led you to this moment. This moment where you would belong completely, utterly to the vampire Kim Jongdae, who never even wanted you in the first place.
Prologue│Chapter 1│Chapter 2│Chapter 3│Chapter 4│Chapter 5│ Chapter 6│Chapter 7│Chapter 8│Chapter 9│Chapter 10│Chapter 11│ Chapter 12│Chapter 13│Chapter 14 [M]│Chapter 15 [M]│Chapter 16│ Chapter 17│Chapter 18│Epilogue
“Why did you pull me out here?” Jongdae asks, a brow raised at her.
“Jongdae.” Her voice never fails to make him shiver, so soft and beautiful. “Are you not happy that I’m back?”
The question catches him off-guard, and he tries to shy away from it. “I—I thought you were dead.”
Her eyes narrow, red lips pursed as she takes a step closer. Her scent is so familiar, so nostalgic that it makes him hold his breath to keep himself from wavering.
“I’m alive. I am here.” She reaches out, fingers grazing his arm and he stiffens, shuddering. Her voice drops to a whisper. “Do you love me?”
Jongdae breathes out shakily, eyes darting across her face and he feels himself shattering, collapsing, teetering on the edge and so close to falling. He mumbles brokenly, “I do. I love you.”
Victoria cups his cheeks, bringing him closer and he doesn’t fight it. His mind is racing, yet it’s so utterly blank at the same time. Her face flashes in his mind and he manages to pull away. “I…Wait. Please.”
Hurt flashes in Victoria’s eyes. Hurt, and something else. It goes by too quick for him to catch it. “Jongdae, do you love her too? Have you forgotten me so easily? We spent centuries together! I’m the one you love, not her!”
“I—” Jongdae stutters, taking a step back. “I don’t know, okay? I…I missed you so much. There hasn’t been a single goddamn day where I haven’t thought about you. I kept blaming myself for what happened…I always wished you were there with me. I—” He chokes up, unable to continue and her eyes grow sad, so pained, mirroring his.
“But?” She whispers.
“But…” He breathes out, shaking his head. “In my misery, in the darkest moments of my life, she was there. She didn’t hate me, she didn’t leave.” His voice shudders. “She came to me. Not you.”
There are tears in Victoria’s eyes as she gazes up at him through her lashes. He can feel himself trembling. He could walk away now. He could leave her behind and pretend the past never happened.
But he can’t.
“You didn’t come for me either.” She says. “When I was on the verge of dying, when I had to do whatever I could to survive, you weren’t there for me. But,” she exhales, “but it never mattered because I love you. I love you so much. My heart never changed; how could yours?”
He doesn’t know how to answer. He had changed. He had gone through grief and misery and re-learned how to love. There’s no way he didn’t change.
But his feelings for Victoria…had they really changed? Then why does it hurt so much now that she’s here, why does he still find her so mesmerizing?
She touches his cheek and he doesn’t move. He doesn’t pull away when she leans in, and doesn’t stop her when she kisses him.
He’s never had such a bittersweet kiss before.
“Yixing, are you sure?” Junmyeon eyes the two of you uncertainly. “I know you can handle yourself…but it’s still dangerous. I could contact the clan overseas…”
“We’ll be fine.” Yixing reassures, flashing him a smile. “Don’t worry.”
You try to keep your eyes down, through you can’t help but wonder if Jongdae will come to see you off.
Yixing grabs his suitcase and yours, heading towards the car. Chanyeol had offered to drive you two to the airport, and Hui refused to let you leave unless she could see you off.
Soon you’re down the road towards the airport, and you didn’t get the chance to see Jongdae. You mentally scoff. As if he would see you off. He doesn’t care…he never did.
Your heart wrenches and the image of him kissing Victoria resurfaces. But this is for the best. He was never meant to be with you in the first place. They had always belonged together, and now that she’s back, there’s no need for you to stay.
Yixing touches your arm, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Are you okay?”
You find Hui and Chanyeol also looking at you in concern, and you feign a smile. “Yes, of course. Just…a little nervous I guess. I’ve never been outside the country.” Or anywhere.
“Don’t worry.” Yixing offers you a gentle smile. “I’ll protect you.”
You nod, though you don’t feel any better. You’re still feeling miserable, wanting nothing more than to mope. The scenery rushing by makes for a good distraction, the rumble of the car lulling you to sleep.
When you close your eyes, Jongdae’s face flashes in your mind. His gentle voice as he whispers sweet nothings to you, the feeling of his fingers brushing through your hair.
This is stupid. You shift in your seat, leaning your head against the window and trying to steady your breathing. You wish you could stop the memories. You wish you could erase them permanently. You know that you’ll be gone from this place soon, you’ll be able to start fresh and one day, one day, you’ll definitely stop loving him.
But now it hurts. So damn much.
The car sputters and Chanyeol mutters in confusion. He tries to get the car going again, not paying attention to the road and Hui screams, pointing at a car that’s coming right at them. Chanyeol swerves, going off the road and into the forest, colliding violently with a tree which makes all of you jolt forward. You sprain your neck against the seatbelt, the pain throbbing as the car comes to a stop.
“Are you okay?” Yixing asks you immediately, seeing you wince in pain. Chanyeol fuses over Hui, who was sitting shotgun and had hit her head against the window. You groan out, “I’m fine, but Hui is bleeding.”
Yixing gets out the car, moving next to Hui and examining her wound. You get out too, seeing how crushed the car is. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” Chanyeol admits, brows furrowed in worry. “The car just…stopped working. Should we carry her back? I-Is she going to die?”
You take a look and find that the wound isn’t too deep. You breathe out in relief. “It looks like a scratch. I don’t think she’ll die.”
Chanyeol breathes out in relief, helping her out the car and holding her gently against him protectively. You look around, the pain in your neck still an insistent throb. It seems like the four of you have veered off quite a bit from the road, and it’ll take a while to get back.
“Come on,” you say, “we should go get help.”
Yixing leads the way, following the sound of cars, which is currently too faint for your human senses to pick up. Chanyeol and Hui are behind you, Chanyeol carrying her easily.
Yixing suddenly freezes, and so does Chanyeol. The two of them move closer, surrounding you like a wall of protection.
“What’s wrong?” You ask.
Chanyeol growls, fangs bared. “Oh no you don’t.”
And before you can react, silhouettes flash before your eyes, moving towards you so quickly you can hardly make out their form. Yixing stands before you, rushing to meet the figures halfway and you scream, hearing growls and roars. Chanyeol had put down Hui beside you, who is still unconscious. You kneels next to her, trying to keep her out of harm’s way, though you can do little to protect even yourself.
Splashes of blood appear before you, and you cower back, terrified of what’s happening.
The rustling of leaves warn you of danger right behind you, but the figure moves so quickly, it’s impossible for you to get away in time.
You squeeze your eyes tight, holding Hui against you as you brace for impact.
Nothing comes.
A shadow looms over you, and when you open your eyes you see Jongdae, blood smeared across his cheekbone, eyes glowing red and fangs bared. His hands are also dripping with blood.
You’ve never felt so relieved and terrified at the same time.
The three vampires work to kill the attackers, moving at the speed of light and before you know it, they all lay dead on the grassy floor. Corpses, deformed and soaked in blood, all around you.
The sight is gruesome, disgusting, and you feel yourself about to gag. You try to avert your eyes, but they’re everywhere.
You tremble, seeing droplets of blood on your skin and clothes. It takes you a moment to find your voice. “W-What happened?”
“I don’t know.” Yixing answers, trying to wipe off the blood, but it merely smears across his pale skin. “I’ve never seen vampires like that before.”
“They were like zombies.” Chanyeol agrees. “No sliver of consciousness existed.”
“Jongdae, what are you doing here?” Yixing asks, tone slightly accusing.
Jongdae straightens, looking grim. “…I saw Victoria leave, and followed her here. She looked suspicious, and I couldn’t help myself.”
“What?” You blurt out, only to hear a laugh echo through the trees.
Victoria steps out the shadows, her hair tied back and clothes casual, yet she looks as stunning as ever.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Chanyeol demands.
“I’m sorry.” She says sincerely. “I didn’t want to hurt any of you. You are all like family to me.”
“Then why…?” Yixing trails off, only to meet your eyes and you know.
She was trying to kill you.
She shakes her head, sighing. “Why did you have to protect her? If she had died, we would all be able to go back to how things were.”
Jongdae steps in front of you protectively. “Victoria, stop. What is the meaning of this? Have you gone crazy?”
She looks at him oddly, hurt and anger swirling in her eyes. “Me? I’m doing you a favor, Jongdae. If I had killed her, you wouldn’t have to be so torn anymore. You can come back to me just like you should have.”
Jongdae shakes his head incredibly, eyes hardening. “You…” And then his eyes widen, horror and realization dawning on him. “You died back then.”
Silence fills the air, and you look up at him in confusion. What is he talking about? But the shocked silence between the three vampires makes it hard for you to say anything.
Victoria looks at him calmly, nodding. “Yes, I did.”
Jongdae is trembling now, and you push yourself to stand. He looks like he’s fighting something, looking at her with such disbelief.
“I-I don’t understand.” He mutters, shaking his head. “I knew you were different…but…how…?”
“Jongdae.” She calls lovingly, taking a step forward. “Does it matter? I’m here right now, living, breathing. Why won’t you come back to me?”
He shakes his head, backing away, body tense. You touch his arm, watching him in confusion. “Jongdae?”
“Yixing,” Jongdae whispers, “Take the two humans and go back. Now.”
Yixing nods, grabbing for you and Hui but you fight him, pulling out of his gasp. “No!”
You glare at Jongdae, standing your ground. “What is going on here? If she’s trying to kill me, shouldn’t I get a better explanation?”
Jongdae’s eyes blaze in anger, and he pushes you back with a little too much force, making you crash back into Yixing. “Get out of here!”
Suddenly, everything moves too quickly. Victoria is before you in a flash, a cruel smile on her face. She lunges for you, but Jongdae holds her back. Like wolves, they tear at each other, fangs snapping.
Yixing grabs for you, urging you to leave quickly. He pulls you away from the fight scene, and Chanyeol covers for you as the three of you make a quick escape.
You hear a high-pitched wail, the sound echoing through the trees and making your ears ring.
You run as fast as your legs can carry you, trying to follow Yixing’s speed. He’s carrying Hui on his back, hurrying towards the road. You can hear the cars now, so close.
“You can’t run.”
Victoria appears behind you, grabbing you and with her inhumane strength, pulls you away from Yixing.
Previous Chapter│Epilogue
My Pet Human Mini Masterlist
A/N: RIP to Kam, as she digs herself deeper into this plot twist that even she, the author, did not see coming. So yeh, good luck on guessing what’s actually happening haha. Next chap might be the last...maybe
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sheralynnramsey · 6 years ago
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Teyrhune- Leo and Lailsund-First Kiss
I did a little writing today, yay! So, have some feels!
Warning: This thing is an emotional rollercoaster, so be prepared, also violence.
Tagging @theguildedtypewriter because she’s been rooting for the kiss.  I’m just gonna apologize ahead of time... 😂
Lailsund swallowed and tucked his shaky hands in his robes, “Thanks, Leo, for everything you’ve done for me over the past year.  You’re a good friend.” An overwhelming ache surged through his chest at his words, and he quickly looked away, biting at his bottom lip.
A hand gripped his upper arm and Leo moved in front of him, trying to catch his eye, “Hey, what’s wrong, my king?”
The concern in Leo’s voice made him look up, “Nothing.  I just wish…”  Everything he wanted to say lodged in his throat as Lailsund’s eyes met his and all he could think about was how much he needed this boy to love him.  His heart plummeted, He’ll never feel the same way.  I’m fooling myself, and he’ll hate me when he learns the truth.  Lailsund looked away, “Never mind,” and turned to leave but Leo still had a hold on his arm.  He stopped but didn’t turn back around.
“Lailsund,” the soft whisper made him freeze and his heart beat frantically in his chest.  Leo had never spoken his name without title or honorific.  He turned around to face him, but fear and anxiety kept his eyes down. “Look at me… please.”  He was close, so close Lailsund could feel his warmth on his skin.  He looked up, eyes snagging on Leo’s taut lips before dragging them up to meet his rich, dark brown irises.  Leo’s brows furrowed, and he gave a heavy sigh, “Why can’t you see?”
“Wha…” the sound caught in his throat as Leo’s hand left his arm and found his cheek.  Lailsund watched his face soften and his eyes drop to his lips.  Goosebumps broke out across his skin and his breath hitched as Leo leaned forward and pressed his lips to Lailsund’s, soft, warm, and sweet.  His knees went weak, eyelids fluttered closed, and he latched on to Leo’s tunic to ground himself.  He felt the flush in his cheeks and the upwelling of magic as it stirred within him, causing the hair on his arms and legs to stand on end.
Leo’s other arm wrapped around Lailsund’s waist and pulled him firmly against him, letting the kiss linger for another long moment before ending it and backing a half step away.  Lailsund felt himself teeter a bit as he settled back into reality, watching Leo with an expression somewhere between shock and elation.  “I’ve tried so hard to fight this, but I can’t watch you suffer any longer thinking I don’t care for you.  I do, it’s just…”  Lailsund felt sick as his heart dropped into his stomach.  “I’ve spent my entire life hiding this part of myself.  My father caught me holding hands with a boy when I was very young, and the lesson he taught me made a lasting impression.  I’ve never been brave enough to stand up to him on this. He made it very clear I would regret it.”  
Lailsund started to reply but Leo stopped him with a shake of his head and hand to his cheek.  “I would for you, my king.”  Lailsund’s heart nearly stopped beating and he leaned into Leo’s palm, placing his hand over his.  “In the beginning, I was afraid that I couldn’t, that I would never be strong enough to confront him but now, I know I would if it meant that I could make you happy.”  Leo pulled his hand away and he closed his eyes, taking a ragged breath before releasing it and looking back at Lailsund, “I want this.  More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, but we can’t.”  Lailsund nearly lost his footing and his chest felt as if it would cave in on itself, crushing his fluttering heart.  “This is not safe for you, for either of us.  It’s my job to protect you, not give your enemies a reason to execute you. I can’t be the reason you die, Lailsund. I would never survive that.”
“It’s a stupid law, Leo.  I can change it, for us, for Uldermond and Romulus.  I’m the king, not some commoner with no power,” his voice was shaking, and he felt hot tears running down his cheeks.
“And that’s why you must be careful.  There are people here that want you dead or in a position where they can control you.  I won’t let you become a pawn, my king.  For you, that would be a fate worse than death.  I can’t… I won’t.  Please, don’t ask me to put you at risk.”
Lailsund clenched his fists and stared at his feet.  He was right.  If they didn’t outright kill them, they would use it against him to get what they want. A puppet on the throne.  Anger welled in him, and he felt the swirl of magical energy threatening to burst from him.  He closed his eyes forced his breath in and out slowly to calm himself.
“My king, are you alright?”
He opened his eyes and answered, “I’m fine.”  It came out a little clipped, and he flinched.  “I’m sorry, I just hate this.  I’m getting rid of that stupid law for Uldermond and Romulus.  After things calm down, maybe…”
Leo gave him a weak smile, “Yeah, maybe.”
There was so much sadness in those two words that Lailsund thought his heart would shatter.  Was Leo lying to him about how he felt?  It wasn’t like he had any experience with relationships.  All he had for reference were his parents and Uldermond and Romulus over the last year.
The door to the throne room burst open, and he spun to see a hooded figure pointing a crossbow at his chest.  He barely had time to register the situation when the bolt shot from the weapon, and Leo leapt in front of him.  Fear surged through him as he realized what was about to happen and a magical pulse burst free of his body.  Time slowed to a crawl around him, the crossbow bolt meant for him now heading on a collision course with Leo’s chest.  He pulled on the pulsating energy within him, forced it out into his hands, and willed it to gather and form a shield between the bolt and Leo as he screamed, “Umbraculum!”
The air pulsated and erupted as the bolt struck the massive wall of magic at the exact moment the shield formed.  The projectile vaporized and the unstable energy exploded out into the room.  The assassin flew backward, slamming into the wall and falling to the floor, just as Leo landed at Lailsund’s feet.  
He looked down, “Are you...?” The look in Leo’s eyes hit him harder than the magic fatigue that left his body shaky, weak, and aching to his bones—fear, betrayal, hatred.
“You’re a Daekarr,” his voice was cold and harsh, and he slapped away Lailsund’s offered hand.  He stood and backed away.
“Leo, please, I can explain.”
“I don’t want your explanations.”  
Lailsund moved to close the distance between them and darkness stole his vision.  He felt the hard, cold stone slam into his knees, and he reached for Leo, “It’s not what you think,” he heard the slur of his words but fought the darkness.
“You lied to me.”  Leo’s voice was so far away.  “I told you about my mom and sister, and you kept this from me?!”
“I was…” Vertigo took over before an explosion of white light interrupted the darkness, followed by a rainbow of color and a sharp pain and ache in his temple. “Leo, please…” the colors faded away to darkness again, “don’t…”  leave me.
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richiebilleddie · 7 years ago
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AN/ forgive this ugly moodboard thing i’d figured it wouldn’t hurt to try lol. This is written for @wyattghouleff who told me to write a story based off the song “A Million Other Things” by Pronoun. At first I had no idea what to write, but then I realized I had been taking the song lyrics too literal. I hope that if you listen to the song you can understand what I mean.
Warnings: drug addiction, angst (ends in fluff do not worry)
pairing: reddie
word count: 1596
summary: Eddie meant home.
    Eddie took the cigarette from Richie’s shaking hand, too bothered to get one of his own. He took a long inhale, coughing instantly after, lungs burning. Cigarettes were never appealing to him, but then again, neither was a future with Richie after his addiction was discovered. People grow, and they change mindsets, and that’s exactly what happened to Eddie. He adapted to the unwanted change.
    He handed the cig back to Richie, who looked dazed out of his mind. Eddie knew he was sober, but years of taking drugs changed a person, both mentally and physically. He knew that if Stan the man or Big Bill could only see his boyfriend now-
    Eddie closed his eyes, leaning his head back as if he were too lazy to look at Richie anymore. A painful smile formed on his lips, and he thought about what kind of reaction Stan would have. He’d try to be supportive of course, explaining to Richie about all of the treatment programs that existed. But he wouldn’t be so kind as to not spare a look of judgement towards Eddie, like Eddie handed Richie that needle himself.
    Might as well have, Eddie thought to himself, opening his eyes to look over Richie’s pale skin and lanky body. Too thin, much too thin. You gave him money, you knew what he did with it. You enabled him.
    He bit the inside of his cheek hard and pushed himself up off the floor of their apartment. He was done with all the lies and the enabling. After staring at Richie, who appeared to be absolutely oblivious, he thought about what he wanted to say. He kicked Richie’s thigh to gain his attention.
    “What?” he snapped, voice teetering on the edge of harsh. He opened his eyes and zeroed in on Eddie, who stood above him with no facial expression at all.
    “You need help. I’m gonna get you the help you need, okay Richie?” he continued to finish what he began to say, despite seeing how Richie tensed up and how his lip curled in poorly hidden anger. It didn’t come out the way he intended. Eddie hadn’t even mentioned what he was talking about, but after a beat, he realized Richie understood him anyway.
    “What the hell are you talking about? Where did that even come from? I don’t need help, Eddie.” he sneered, rubbing the end of the cigarette out on the floor, snuffing it out and leaving a nasty looking smear mark. Eddie cringed at that, wishing not for the first time he’d stop doing it. “You know I don’t, so shut up about it.” he leaned his head back against the couch cushion and closed his eyes yet again, as if what Eddie was saying to him wasn’t important enough to pay attention to.
    Eddie shook in vexation. He took a few deep breaths, letting the air fill his lungs until it felt like he might explode. Exhaling made him feel better. “No, I won’t shut up Richie, and you know exactly what I’m talking about.” he paused for a few moments, trying to get his breathing under control before pressing on. “I love you, so much Richie, and I’m getting you the help you desperately need.” his voice said that was final, and it pissed Richie off.
    “Eddie!” he shouted, “for the love of god will you just stop? We don’t have money for rehab and rent, so let it the fuck go.”
    Eddie’s lip trembled. His palms began to sweat, but he didn’t budge. He wanted to be furious, to punch Richie in the head and maybe make him see. His anger was at Richie and the drugs and his own position in the situation. “I’ll make it work.” he mumbled, kicking Richie’s foot with his own. “I’ll make it work, you asshole. I’m not gonna stay and watch you waste away, and you know what? If we have enough money for heroin then we have enough for rehab.”
    Richie rolled his eyes and got up from the ground, gazing at Eddie as if he hated him. He noted how Eddie’s lip trembled, and tears brimmed in his eyes, and he almost felt pain. “I’m not wasting aw-”
    “You are!” Eddie shouted, poking Richie in the chest with each word. “You are going to die if you keep going at this rate, Richie! I’m sick of you being gone all night, and- and coming home fucking high off your goddamn mind! I need you, Richie. I need you here with me, and I’ve been doing nothing to help you; but now that’s going to change. You need to choose, because making you do this is my choice, but what you do after is yours. So you are going to rehab, even if the cops put you there themselves.” he trembled at the end, the thinly veiled threat underlying his words. He knew Richie understood the connotation of his sentence going by how he reacted.
    Richie said nothing for a while, only staring at Eddie’s face, trying to memorize how he looked. Soft in the horrible lighting of their shitty apartment, his jean overalls hanging off his frame, and the white sweater underneath of it. Richie forced himself to think back to the time when he bought those acid washed overalls solely because of how in love Eddie looked with them. Counting out pennies, every last dime he had in his pocket in order to buy them.
Something about the memory changed something. Maybe it was the love that it radiated, remembering the look on Eddie’s face when he had presented the over expensive article of clothing. Maybe it was how little things like that reminded him of how normal they used to be and his desire to go back to that time.
His hands were in fists at his side. Richie was once scared he’d lose his cool and do something he’d regret, but all of the fight drained from him and he broke down. He wanted change, but was scared of it. Scared of withdrawal and people judging him. Terrified of losing Eddie in the midst of it all.
    Eddie expected a lot of different reactions, but not this. Richie crying, fat tears wetting his cheeks. Seeing Richie cry made him cry too, and he let all of his anger fade with it. “I love you so much,” Richie sobbed, shoulders shaking. He pulled Eddie into him, wrapping his hand around the back of his boyfriends head to stroke his hair. Eddie curled his fingers into Richie’s shirt, holding him against his chest tightly. He never wanted to let go. “I’ll go, I’ll go, okay Eddie? For you and for me.”
     Unsure why, a bubble of laughter escaped him, a small one that was barely audible because of Richie’s shirt. The taller of the two mistook the rumbling in his chest as crying, and he squeezed his arms tighter.
    Eddie experienced a sense of graciousness that he had gotten through to Richie. Happiness was too bland of a word to describe how he felt about the taller boy, how glad he was that Richie was still alive with him and not under ground. Drug addiction and all, Eddie loved him more than anything in the world. He’d take a broken Richie Tozier over a dead one. Because things can be repaired, but you can’t bring someone back from the dead. The thought of death terrified him.
Eddie continued to laugh again, much louder this time. It came out a little hysterical and wet sounding from all the crying, as if he had a cold. He held Richie at an arm’s length.
    Richie felt confused at first, but hearing Eddie’s laugh and seeing how lit up he became flicked a switch in him. Eddie slid his hands tentatively up Richie’s arms, over his sweater and to his cheeks. He kissed him softly for a second before it became more urgent. They parted and were both laughing now. If anyone saw us, Eddie thought, they’d think we were absolutely insane.
    “Why are we laughing?” Richie asked in between giggles, wiping snot off his face with the back of his arm. Eddie wanted to grimace at that, but he couldn’t stop laughing.
    “I don’t know,” he said, already searching around for his phone. It had to be somewhere. “I think it’s because we’re both sleep deprived and sad.”
    Richie didn’t reply. He watched Eddie root around for his phone, and thinking about earlier caused him to laugh even harder. He doubled over on the couch, holding his stomach as it tensed.
    “I’m sorry for being a dick,” he said after they had calmed down, to which Eddie walked by and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, “I love you a lot Eddie. I only acted like that because I was scared, still am scared.” Eddie was still in search of his damn phone, but he suddenly found it on the kitchen counter.
    “You never have to hide how you feel with me.” Eddie said, voice sounding distant. “I want you to get better.”
    To that, Richie didn’t reply. He didn’t need to, because there was no need. Eddie understood the silence, the words Richie didn’t say that were ingrained in that silence. He dialed a number, and soon Richie heard him talking away. Something about cost and duration. Richie leaned his head back and closed his eyes, reaching into his pocket to crush the pack of cigarettes there.
    He’d been gone a while, but Eddie was his home.
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maradanewrites · 7 years ago
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Give Me Fitz
a retelling of Pride & Prejudice
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Chapter 1
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a woman in possession of a healthy sex drive must be able to find a man amenable to a friendly tumble in bed. And yet, here I am. Lizzie Bennet, the only woman in Longbourn County, Kentucky who can’t get laid to save her life.
The problem is, of course, my ex.
Believe me, I’ve taken responsibility for a lot of the problems in my life. But when it comes to my sex life, I’m totally justified in laying the blame squarely at the feet of Fitzwilliam Darcy, aka Fitz. Despite being the proudest, most stubborn jackass I’ve ever met, he’s friends with every halfway decent guy around. On the one hand, it’s a small town. So it’s not like there are a lot of dating options. On the other hand, as in any small town, the rumor mill is the only thing that runs 24/7. Nobody wants to be the guy accused of getting it on with good ol’ Fitz’s ex. Especially after the stories he’s spread about me. According to the local scuttlebutt, I’m a frigid, nagging harpy.
Some days, I want to march right up to Fitz and ask him if I was such a prude, why we spent half the time we were married in bed. Don’t get me wrong. Our marriage was a disaster, but sex was the one thing about us that worked.
When other people are around, he comes across as cold and stiff. Well, the stiff part was accurate anyway. Stiff, thick and always ready to take my breath away — even if it was usually just to shut me up when my smart mouth was exasperating him. In two short years, we managed to screw on top of (or up against) everything from the kitchen table to an antique escritoire. I may not have been his perfect ideal of a wife, but I did at least think I was good at sex.
To have him deny me even that small victory is just one of the many reasons I hate him. But mainly, it’s because he’s made sure I’m experiencing a long dry spell without him.
Of course, the news isn’t all bad. After the divorce, I moved back in with my parents and sisters. I would have never expected it, but it was really good to go home. When Fitz and I were together, I felt like I was always teetering inches away from failure. In a lot of ways, it was a relief to admit defeat. I no longer looked up to catch him looking at me with that confused mix of lust, shock and disapproval. None of my tawdry white trash antics surprised him as much as me leaving him, without even asking for alimony or any of his precious property. So much for his rich aunt’s assertion that I was nothing but a scheming gold digger.
Of course I left him. What woman in her right mind would stay in a relationship where the other person clearly doesn’t think you’re good enough for them, no matter how good the sex is? The truth is, Fitzwilliam Darcy thought he’d married beneath himself. He never stopped expecting me to live down to his expectations. After two years, I decided to put us both out of our misery.
That’s why I was sitting at the local bar, waiting in vain for someone to ask me to dance. I couldn’t get picked up if I called Uber, not that they had drivers all the way out here in the sticks.
“Lizzie, let’s get out of here.” My best friend Charley leaned over her bourbon and Coke, her voice buzzing in my ear. “Seriously, I don’t know why we don’t just go to the city. Or why you don’t try finding somebody online.”
“Because this was my hometown first, dammit. I shouldn’t have to drive an hour into the city or resort to sexting some random stranger just to get a date. I live here. I work here. I like it here. And besides, he’s not even shown up tonight. Maybe someone will man up and make a move.”
For just a minute, it looked like I might be right. I caught Tom Everly giving me a speculative look. Tom owned the local farm implements store. We were a couple of years apart in school, but not enough for it to be weird now. He was a nice guy, a little tall and thin for my taste, but not bad looking at all.
I watched as Tom set his drink aside, noticing I’d caught his eye. He stood up, and started across the room towards me.
That’s when the door opened, and my worst nightmare walked in. Not just Fitz, but his best friend Chuck, and Chuck’s evil sister Carrie.
At the sight of Chuck, I glanced at my sister Jane. She’d had a huge crush on him in high school. For a little while, it had looked like they were going to be an item. Then he came back from spring break with the same snotty, superior attitude as his sister. Jane had tried to pretend it was no big deal, but I knew she’d been heartbroken.
Now she was looking anywhere but at him, and I knew she still wished things had turned out differently. My face flushed with anger. Jane was a sweet, sensitive soul. Any man who hurt her got a permanent spot on my bad side.
I noticed a smirk cross Carrie’s face as she saw Jane, Charley and I sitting at a table together. She was wearing an outfit that probably cost more than I made in a week. At least she was clearly not having a good time. Fitz and Chuck probably dragged her along, because Caroline Bingley clearly preferred a higher class of company than the Longbourn Bar & Bowling Alley could provide.
I tried to ignore the lump in my throat when I made eye contact with Fitz. He was still the most gorgeous man in town. Someday, I was going to be able to look at his curly dark hair and not immediately imagine myself running my fingers through it, but today wasn’t that day. His dark brown eyes still held that same intense look. Broad, muscular shoulders strained against his white button-down. He still filled out his jeans way too well, with a perfect ass my fingers itched to touch.
If I’d been hoping he’d have the good grace to keep his distance, I was wrong. He sauntered over to the table. Behind his back, I saw Tom slide back onto his barstool in defeat.
“You know, Fitz, you don’t actually have to show up here just to ruin Lizzie’s night.” Charley plucked the cherry out of her glass and popped it into her mouth. “It’s not like anyone here has the balls to break your precious bro code. Whether they believe the nasty gossip you’ve spread or not.”
He raised a dark eyebrow in surprise at that. Apparently he didn’t know the word he’d put out had gotten back to me. Well, that was too damn bad. If he hadn’t wanted to get called on his bad behavior, he shouldn’t have acted like such a jerk.
“What makes you think Lizzie has anything to do with me being here? Believe me, when I’m planning a good time, she’s the last thing on my mind.”
Nobody could possibly miss the bitter, cynical edge to his voice. So he was going to start insulting me in public, too? It was too much. I’d tried to keep my cool and take the high road, but if he was going to pull this act here, the gloves were off.
“Oh, shut up, Fitz. You wouldn’t know a good time if it walked up and bit you in the ass.”
Across the table, Jane’s jaw dropped. Even Charley looked shocked. I don’t think either of them ever expected me to stand up to him in person. I might talk a good game when it was just us girls, but in public, I at least tried to display perfect manners. I knew my family’s trashy reputation. But as much as I loathed the idea of acting like that in public, I just couldn’t sit there and take it anymore. If he wanted to air our dirty laundry, two could play that game.
His face hardened. I don’t think he expected my smart mouth response, either. I was done apologizing. Sure, I was the one who’d filed for divorce, but I wasn’t the only problem in our marriage. I was done being Fitz’s scapegoat. Months of pent-up anger boiled to the surface. I stood up, and attempted to get right in his face. I was hindered a little bit in that I’m a good head shorter than he is, so I looked up to avoid yelling at his rippling pectorals.
“Fitzwilliam Darcy! I am done feeling bad about what happened between us. You can say whatever you want behind my back – or to my face, in this case – but I’m done acting like I deserve to be miserable. From now on, I’m through with sitting around waiting for you to decide it’s okay for me to be happy. I’m done spending my energy on you and your nonsense. I’m going to spend it dancing.”
Fitz glared at me silently. Some time while I’d been yelling, the jukebox had gone quiet and it felt like the whole room was staring at us.
So much for a fun night out.
Then something happened I didn’t expect. The jukebox fired back up. People went back to their drinks, and back to their conversations. It felt like the morning after a storm blows through. The tension in the room had evaporated. I guess everyone had been waiting for the two of us to face off, for the big ugly scene to happen.
Now that it had, everybody could finally breathe. Including me.
Fitz retreated with Chuck and Carrie to a booth near the back of the room. Chuck cast a long, sad look at Jane while ordering his usual craft beer. Fitz made conversation with Carrie, who relished the attention.
A newly emboldened Tom stood up again and ambled over to our table.
“Still got enough of that energy left for a dance?” He smiled, his hazel eyes sparkling with laughter. By tomorrow morning, the story would be all over town. I’d finally given them something to talk about, which in a weird way made talking to me okay again.
I took Tom’s hand. “I’d be delighted.”
As we walked onto the small dance floor, I caught a few other men watching. It looked like my dance card might fill up tonight after all. Maybe I wasn’t quite as ready to take anybody home as I’d thought. But it would be good to feel strong arms and a warm body pressed up against me again. It would be good to feel like an attractive woman, as opposed to a social leper.
As I wrapped my arms around Tom’s neck and swayed to the sound of Patsy Cline, I caught a glimpse of Fitz. Carrie was leaning half into his lap. His head was down and turned towards her, so I couldn’t really see his face. I tried to ignore the tightness in my chest, as I realized that if I was ready to move on, maybe he was too.
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a-m00d · 5 years ago
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hi... i think i should start writing.
i wanted to create a separate journal of sorts to write down my feels about the breakup. but as i’m writing this, i feel ashamed and embarrassed to give so much importance to this failure of a situation. as if he would somehow find these words and think so highly of himself. as if i look back later and say, ‘wow, i needed a whole tumblr blog just to get over him?’. i want to make the disclaimer to myself first and foremost: this journal is perhaps not due to his importance in my life but because of my own life’s importance so to speak. He was important in my life, but i don’t need a journal to get over him more than i needed with any other guy. I need one (or want one) because I want to start to sort out all my conflicting thoughts, therapy is expensive (though maybe i will seek out a therapist soon), i want an organized and private space for this, and i always do better with typing rather than writing (for longer periods of writing) because I can easily find the writing later. I felt the same when thinking about buying a new notebook just to write these thoughts down — I felt that it would be giving him too much credit for my emotions. Now, like I said, I’m feeling this way with starting a whole new tumblr blog just for this. But. I know that I don’t want him to take credit for any of my feelings, I do want to bask in them myself and revel and wail over what is going on inside of my head and heart right now.
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my emotions have been insane over the past few days. obvious statement of the year. i also teeter between numbness/forgetfulness and utter sadness (mostly due to having to act normal for work and other obligations), but i feel somehow there is a healthy balance of that going on right now, and i’m very lucky i don’t have to be in the office right now. i’ll take that over the emptiness of being isolated and alone. my thoughts have been changing like the fucking tides. and the place i’m in right now is deciding if/when to let go of this relationship100%. 
everything seemed slow last week, but then happened so fast at once. the breakup was triggered by our fight 1.5 weeks ago, on the weekend. our third time not being able to even walk with each other and cheer each other up in this disaster of a time. As I walked away from him (or as he lagged behind) i had the gut feeling it was time to end things for good. I’ve said and done this 100000x. This time was slightly different. I felt like i was finally able to surrender. Not 100% of course, but it was different than ever before. It was just a little bit more. Shortly after, he texted me, with a tone that i knew was half trying to make up and half trying to evoke me and blame me. I told myself that i shouldn’t go back to talk to him at that moment, but I did (just like every time). We met up and he made things worse. We both did. Feeding off each other like always. He kept on provoking (like always), and it got to the point I felt it was finally enough to end things. I could never handle when he went on and on about ‘why the hell are we together?’, ‘what are you (me) doing?’ ‘we hate each other’, etc. etc. He was the most ungrateful bastard, living in my house for free and treating me like this. I knew things wouldn’t change anytime soon with him, and I stood strong with my feeling on that walk, that there was no other solution I could think of. there was nothing more i could hold onto. sometimes things don’t work out, and you don’t have the answer. I couldn’t look for the answer anymore. I’m battling my own health issues, major stress, career decisions, and, of course, the quarantine. I let him go. He freaked out, obviously. He didn’t believe me for the next few days even. First he was a dick, then that was followed by him being anxious and frantically figuring out what he was going to do (mind you, with no money for NYC rent, no job, and nowhere to stay temporarily in the middle of quarantine), then endless crying and begging to me. I was able to stick strong with that feeling i had felt on the walk. I was sad, shocked, disappointed and relieved all myself, but I knew I didn’t have any other solution.
The rest of the weekend was filled with loneliness, sadness, drinking and eating in bed, sad yoga, ignoring each other, him making me feel bad (and actually feeling bad) for “kicking him out”. We had some more talks earlier in the week, when he finally asked if i wanted this for good. They were calm talks and I was able to stick with my decision. Later on in the week we started hanging out a little bit more, still distant, but enjoying each other’s company in the night time and not ignoring each other. I knew it became too much when even on friday night we got in a stupid yelling fight about... (and i’m sorry but i really need to write these details down)... him wanting me to play guitar hero right as i had called up my friends to chat, and came off the phone 20 minutes later (cut them off so i could play with him) and he refuses to play, saying he was tired and his feelings were hurt. saying he wanted to play 20/30 minutes ago but not anymore. I was absolutely furious. He might have even had the chance to sleep on my bed that night but i sent him straight to the floor and even threatened to kick him out right then and there. I had planned for us to have a good weekend together, and I was completely crushed when this fight happened. Maybe I was relieved to know i made the right decision, but just so sad to know our relationship had gotten this awful.
The next morning, he embraced me sweetly and I accepted. I know 100% that I would not have accepted this embrace otherwise, but it was our last weekend together, possibly forever, and I couldn’t let myself not at least try to enjoy our time together and bask in how good the good times made me feel. Even though I had some moments of internal disappointment about him and us, it was a relatively magical weekend (for a weekend spent in quarantine). We walked and talked forever, bringing his stuff into storage, picking up food (first time during quarantine for me, so, a treat), walking and driving to our old favorite places all day and night, making margaritas, and two nights of great physical intimacy (maybe not our best/longest ever, but eons better than we had experienced in over 6 months). I was very afraid of this physical intimacy, I was afraid of the cuddling and all the things he kinda pried me to do all week...but I couldn’t have been happier that I gave in, however hard it may make this time period for me right now, and regardless of if he was just manipulating me or not. Because on that night I realized I do really love him, and we love each other. Despite all the shit in our relationship, and whether or not we should be with each other, we share a real love for each other, and I feel that my heart has opened even just a little bit more. I don’t know what he is feeling, but I know that when he left on Monday I felt a giant, gaping hole in the center of my chest. I truly felt like I lost my best friend. Many times over the past few days when we were together (I don’t remember the conversation now) we talked about the possibility of being together again or hanging out as friends, and I kindof just knew that things would never be the same, and didn’t know how this would ever work out. But I knew that I would never want myself to forget this moment and feeling of love. As much as his love has killed me and ruined me it’s made me grow in ways I never knew I wanted to. I realized how every break up I’ve been through I’ve hid the emotions from others and myself, even from the partner. This time, I’m realizing I’m able to finally feel these things, and I know for the first time what it feels like (not to lose someone you love, but to be this open about it with yourself or others).
A few minutes before we walked out on monday we were crying looking at each other and I thought to myself ‘I really, truly love him’. It took me a few beats to kick the words out of my mouth (fear of rejection, judgement of my own feelings), but I knew I would be crushed if I hadn’t. Not even for him but for me. I decided I didn’t care in that moment if he felt the same way as me, I knew I needed to tell him that, there was no other time. The entire weekend I felt extremely vulnerable crying with him loving him and laughing with him after I had broken up with him...but this is an experience I’ve never had. There’s usually a lot of bad blood and repressed anger, maybe some brief break up sex followed by fighting at the end of a relationship....but (unfortunately) this was already the norm in our relationship....so the ending was truly just a letting go of it all and being happy with each other. Even for only 2.5 days, we really wanted to spend every waking second with each other. And the part that makes me most sad is knowing the familiarity of his face, scent, voice, etc. so well, and now having it vanish in thin air, forever. 
I still don’t think I’ve processed everything 100%. I went to bed moderately fine last night, then woke up today bawling crying because I am usually woken up by him and this morning I wasn’t and it felt so odd and different, and I thought...this is going to be my life for a very long time now. 
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pretty-volatile · 5 years ago
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Journal entry
Thursday, June 6th, 2019 1:40am
So I realized I haven't really journaled in a hot minute and I'm trying to keep track of shit so I know what to bring up when I finally see the psychiatrist.
First of all, only 15 more days until my appointment. I'm still self medicating with weed, but my usage varies day to day. Some days I don't need to smoke AS much, some days I need a lot of help, some days I'm okay but I just want to have fun. My tolerance is higher so I can do daytime use without being affected really. I feel it helps with the anger episodes too. It used to teeter between being helpful/unhelpful for when I was feeling down. Sometimes it would make the overthinking worse because it'd be harder to pull myself out. Lately, I've been exploring my emotions more and being high just helps me open up but kind of numbs some of the pain I might experience. It's more of an emotional trip.
Second of all, I really fucked up this quarter. I'm a 4th year college student and I had already accepted that I need longer, but like. I am worried that I might get kicked out lol. I was Subject to Dismissal ever since I failed my entire Winter Quarter 2018. Oops. Then the next quarter I thought I was going to be able to pick shit back up but then I couldn't keep up so I dropped out of the quarter Week 10 (literally the last week of the quarter lolol). Ever since then I've been trying so damn hard to keep school up while my mental health just kept failing me. I'd start out new every new beginning of a quarter and then by Week 4 I'd start falling behind because I just didn't want to do anything. I couldn't. But then there was a time or two that I was able to pick my ass back up and got decent enough grades to go onto the next thing. This quarter started out pretty well. I was on top of shit til about Week 5 or 6 or something. But I fucking finally cracked this quarter. I had started to pick up on some of my habits, and then I looked up Borderline Personality Disorder and I just lost it. I opened the floodgates to some memories that I had forgotten about or blocked out. Everything started to connect and I started to experience trauma on top of present reality. It was TERRIBLE. Still is but like. It was just so overwhelming to recognize things I didn't even know I did or I didn't know that they weren't okay. Then I reached out to my therapist and I was like I think I have BPD. Of course she couldn't diagnose me because she's not a psychiatrist, but she has experience with supper groups for folx with BPD and she has experience with DBT. But she kept bringing up that she thought it was more likely that I have bipolar disorder. I was still set on BPD. Trying to think of all the symptoms that I experience and match with. I was obsessed with proving there was something wrong with me or that I needed help. Part of me was also thinking "There has to be something wrong because if not, then I really am just a piece of shit...." My insomnia has been pretty bad, which the only thing that helps is...you guessed it!....weed. which sometimes it fed into it too so I'd have to smoke so much that I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. I started to accept the possibility of bipolar disorder too and I was trying to pay attention to my mood(s) more too. Since I was aware of the symptoms of BPD and then later on bipolar, I was starting to pick up when a change was starting to happen so I could warn my partner. At one point my mood was like I was starting over again every single day. It'd start out moderately good and then by the end of the night I'd be breaking down crying about how I didn't want to go to bed just to start the whole day over again. During that time it was EXTREMELY hard to pull myself out of my depression/emptiness. Then once that nightmare stopped my mood switched to being hypomanic for about 6 days. Then right when I needed to get my shit together for school, I started to fall again. At first it was a numb "I don't want to do anything, life is dull, what's the point, fuck it". Then I just became really really sad overall. I didn't want to get out of bed or do chores. I didn't go to class. It was just TOO MUCH but like it made me feel like shit because I knew I needed to go.
Oh and all while I was experiencing most of this, my therapist has been away on medical leave since May 17th and the last time that I actually talked to her was yesterday (6/5 @ 1pm) but it was just for a brief 20 minute call. But we'll be able to pick things right back up when she gets back. I only have to wait 11 more days, so that's good.
Oh and my like impulsive behaviors/reckless shit (for me) was like spending money on food outside of groceries way more than I should have....I got a really bad case of the fuck its and I couldn't really say no because if I didn't buy snacks and food that we didn't have to make we wouldn't have eaten (we as in my partner & I) because of my lack of motivation and energy to do anything at all. I got to use my eating disorder as an excuse to feed into my impulses, oops. Oh and of course I'm addicted to smoking cigarettes and like I smoke weed all the fucking time so I guess those could be some other "reckless" behaviors :P I don't really drink much because of my mother's alcoholism and PTSD. I've had tendencies in the past and when I turned 21 I had a bit of a freak out, but now I'm just like. I'll drink if everyone else is too or if it's for a show or if I just wanted some tall can of yummy stuff at home. Otherwise I REALLY prefer being stoned. It lasts longer. There's not really any PTSD associated with it, debatable but still. It helps me get over the anxiety of dealing with people or strangers specifically. Unfamiliar places with a shit ton of people are definitely a trigger for some panic episode or anger episode. I'll turn into a sour bitch for no reason other than that all the people freaked me out that much. I'm very much like I want a whole separate world for my partner & I and our friends so that we don't have to deal with shitty or creepy people....I like people once I get to know them and stuff but otherwise I'm just like SocIalIZing? Psssh ha...no. That also made it difficult to go to class because I got antisocial as fuck. I LOVE going for walks and doing errands while stoned and listening to music, but like...interacting with people? Having attention drawn onto me? Nooooooo thanx.
Finding out the BPD stuff though weirdly helped me to start talking to other humans again? Kind of? I mean it was mostly me like venting or whatever but I was actually talking to people? (Via messaging mostly) lololol the funniest thing is that a fp was the reason I even looked up BPD. I developed a "crush" first and then later I looked up BPD because I was like ya know... I wanna know. I looked it up once before because there was a time that we thought my mom had BPD. Come to find out, she had bipolar instead. But I remember the first time I looked it up I was like "ha! Some of these symptoms/signs are personally calling me out" but I was mostly looking at it to understand my mom so I wasn't really thinking about myself that much. Plus when I looked it up first, I was still disassociating pretty bad that I wasn't entirely aware of what I was doing or how I was feeling. But when I looked it up the second time... literally EVERYTHING or just about everything that was coming up was exactly how I was feeling or how I have felt in the past. Then I found out about the Favorite Person thing and I was like oof, that's some...that's some shit right there. I still have to sort out what relationships/crushes were actually crushes or just a fp thing that eventually faded away into me not talking to them anymore. That was really fun to admit to my fp that they were the reason I looked up BPD. Lol but we did have a good conversation and like I tried to talk to other people that either understood second hand or first hand. Another person I talked to has BPD, and the other already has mental health issues and his fiance has BPD (so they both understand). Found I am/was an fp to another person that I apparently inspired him to finally go get the help he needs, but like he just had to fuck it up recently by bringing up a touchy subject. I can only imagine how angry or upset he is with me for not responding, which is also why I don't want to answer because I'm too scared with that kind of pressure of being someone's fp 😭😓🙈🙊 sorry bud....just had to bring up something that happened to be a touchy topic 😅
Lately I've really been trying to use music to get me through shit again. Back in high school all I would do at home was stay up, listen to music, draw, write poetry, watch movies, stay up on my phone or laptop. And I was creative as fuck! I've been trying to listen to old music, which also helped me realized just how much help I need(ed) because of how much I would relate to this music and this music was like really deep and really...just it was concerning that is as so young and connecting with what these adults are singing about. It also helped unlock memories. unlocked old feelings. Lots of drifting. But now my music listening is a little more controlled and I used to go on these emotional trips full of memories and just letting myself get swept off into it. I probably can only do this successfully since I eventually said fuck it to the rest of this quarter. (I saved one class but uh unless my professors can make my BPD/bipolar go away then there's nothing we can do.) But like the emotional trips have been really therapeutic for me honestly. Sometimes I feel a little "aw fuck that's all I did today, oops". But other than that it's been helpful. I was also able to draw! I've done like 3 drawings within the like past week ish. Which is more than I thought I'd be able to do. For the longest time I was so blocked off from my emotions and thoughts, I'd feel like drawing but once I sat down it was hard to start it or finish it. Or I'd be able to do like 1 good one every few months. Back in high school I was constantly drawing and even into the beginning of college, but once I started disassociating it was like bye bye creative motivation. Obviously I don't want to take advantage of this burst of creative motivation but like it feels REALLY good. I eventually want to get back into poetry too. I'm actually an art hoe, but when I disassociated I like had no drive to document anything nor the mental capacity/awareness to connect the dots. Which really cramped on me being artsy because my whole art experience is fluid, just let it take me where I need to go. I did some poetry within the last year though. Mainly relating to addiction/alcoholism/insomnia. I'm very much an emotional set type person. It's almost always centered around a feeling or situation that invokes feelings/thoughts.
Okay that's even impressive that I got this much of journaling done, but I think I should stop now. This is long enough and now my thoughts are just kinda scattered and I'm too tired to keep coming back to any points I'm making. This was meant to just be a check in but it turned into like a full on documentation of how I've been feeling or whatever. Whew exhausted. Maybe I'll jot shit down again later after I reread my post later. Goodnight for now ✌
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awhaaaale-blog · 8 years ago
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Furuta Nimura x Reader: Trouble
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Requested by @anonymous
Can you do a scenario where Furuta, Uta, and Tsukiyama break free from CCG after being turned in by their human S.O and confront them…only to find out their S.O. is pregnant with their kid, so CCG used that to force the S.O. to turn them in? Thank you and your writing is awesome
Furuta:
Furuta smiled sweetly through the transparent screen. The screen that kept him from laying a single finger on his former coworkers and most importantly, you. ___, the love of his life… the one who exposed him for being a ghoul and thus earning him this prison cell. Furuta felt his heart throb unpleasantly. Why did you do this? He desperately searched for a reason. Furuta, strategic mastermind of the CCG, just couldn’t fathom why. So Furuta resorted to pacing. For hours he paced back and forth, his thoughts raging and when mania came at him like the waves of an apocalyptic tsunami, he obliged. He could only laugh and screech in his self-pitying pain and bang relentlessly on the walls that seemed to taunt him. Betrayed by a human, a human girl of all people?
He halted. The sound of steady clicking and taps of footsteps was coming. Lots of footsteps and voices, many voices. Some he recognized like Special Class investigator Koutaro Amon and Ui Koori, the new head of the CCG. He scoffed bitterly to himself at the name. He absolutely hated being replaced by such a brainless dipstick like Ui Koori. Before his thoughts could trail on longer, the cell began to fill with gas and his world began to tilt. The last thing he saw before everything went blank was Koori’s disgusting face, his eyes shining with unmistakable satisfaction.
Furuta woke to glaring lights and squinted his eyes. He tried to sit up until he noticed his body was tied down to an operating seat. Plush leather padding gritted against his body as he tried to writhe out. His body wouldn’t budge even with all of his ghoul strength. It was demeaning, them treating him as if he were a dog.
“U-untie me, Koori. You’ll regret doing this to me, I swear it. You’ll regret whatever you have planned. I’ll wipe that ditzy look right off your face you smug son of a bitch, just wait until I get my hands on you -”
Furuta’s threats were cut off when a needle drained a thick liquid into his veins. The effect was immediate and strong. He screamed in agony, the substance felt like liquid fire, writhing hopelessly in his restraints.
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!”
Koori chortled. “Amazing. You’re body reacts faster than every ghoul I’ve injected with this version of RC suppressant. You know, it still sounds weird to say that, you being a ghoul and all. It was quite a shock to know the man everyone revered was secretly a monster. And to think that your own girlfriend was the one to rat you out? How tragic.”
Koori took Furuta by the jaw, turning his face to up to his as he drew out these last few words. It took all of his strength, but Furuta gave Koori a pleasant smile. Koori’s lips formed a thick frown. Furuta took this opportunity to hack a nice wad of spit right onto Koori’s new designer suit.
“Eat shit,” Furuta spat at the investigator contentedly.
“You little-” Koori’s fist connected with Furuta’s nose and blood splattered out. The former leader groaned as the blood began pooling on the tile ground. His vision blurred with pain. Koori didn’t calm down and for hours he and the two other investigators cut, beat, and broke Furuta until he was nothing but a bloody mess. They spat at him and jeered at him, threatening to break him like this every day. After all, it’s what a monster like him deserves.
Furuta lost track of the time at some point, but no longer cared. Eventually, he slipped into hysteria from blood loss, screeching absurdities at Koori. Furuta knew how to say all the right things to piss him off. Koori was at his limit. Furuta should be contorting with pain at his heels, but no he had to be a mouthy bastard.
“Are you getting bored of this so quickly? You want more fun already, huh? Don’t worry your pretty little head because I got plenty of time now that I’m the CCG leader~” The investigator sneered at him and his tone sent hot anger and apprehension shivering down Furuta’s sweaty back. Despite it, Furuta kept up the charade.
Furuta’s holding cell was compact and modest, it had no windows, only the heavy door that donned an array of complex locks offered any real personality to the room. Pearly white cabinets were pushed against the old walls, full of medicines, bandages, but also the tools for more brutal entertainment. Only the mechanical hum of an air conditioner could be heard in the room aside from hoarse and labored breathing. But there was another sound, faint yet it reached their ears; people were shouting with panic in their voices. Neither men could help but wonder what the hell was going on out there.
Abruptly, Furuta’s attention was snapped back to investigator bowl cut when the small man forcefully jerked his foot into a satisfying position. In one hand he held a pair of pliers. Koori imitated Furuta’s ‘refreshing smile’ with unnerving authenticity. “Sit tight while I give you nails a nice trim.”
But as Koori settled the pliers around the ghoul’s toenail, a blast blew of the metal door to the room. It exploded, flying full speed into the wall on the opposite end. The wall caved in where it was impacted, chunks of drywall and concrete raining to the ground. The sound made all four people’s ears pop and ring. Furuta teetered on the edge of consciousness as the two masked men’s feet gave out on them. Their mouths hung open in a gape when a hunk of concrete pelted Koori cleanly on the head. At the moment of impact, Koori dropped to knees, then finally to his face. Smoke drifted from the entrance, obscuring any chance of identifying what or who caused the blast.
And that’s when he heard your voice. Furuta couldn’t help but feel a knot of anger writhe in his chest. You did this to me, you turned me in, ratted me out, told the whole damn CCG, hell the whole world and now I lost my job and my life. Everything is over for me the game is over and what point is there left to my life if the only person I care about betrayed me so openly?
But all of these thoughts melted away like spring snow when he saw you run towards him crying his name over and over. There was no trace of malevolence in your face, only love, regret, and shame. Furuta called out your name. You rushed to him and hurriedly untied his restraints, kissing him all over in the process.
Furuta tentatively hugged you back as he staggered up, but when he looked over his shoulder it made his heart drop. Koori stood there, blood trailing from his forehead, a gun fixed on your head. You still stood sobbing and had no idea that your life was less than seconds from ending. Furuta reacted fast, his blood pumping with adrenaline, but it was not nearly fast enough. The suppressants sapped his strength away.
Koori’s pistol cocked.
The trigger was being pulled.
Furuta was using the last of his power to try and push you away. It was to no avail, since the bullet was leaving the chamber and flying directly towards your skull. By this point, you saw it in his eyes that something was going wrong and you were turning your head in alarmed confusion.
But then it stopped.
The gun already went off yet you stood there, safe and sound. But then he saw the massive kagune hanging over the two of you in a protective umbrella. It was a churning mess of perse tentacles and they continued to hang there, completely blocking off half the room. That’s when Furuta’s gaze found the owner of said kagune and his already wide eyes widened even more.
“One-eyed King,” Furuta addressed the boy with the white hair, trying to sound dignified, but the result was indecorous and weak. “what on earth brings you to a place like this?”
Kaneki looks at him thinly. “Furuta,” he greets.
Kaneki retracts his kagune thus revealing the limp, dead bodies of Koori and his men, probably from being crushed under Kaneki’s insane kagune. Humans truly are weak, Furuta thinks with amusement.
“You know I have to ask Kaneki-kun, what are you doing here?” Furuta smiles and raises his arms, motioning to the room around them.
Kaneki only walks closer and to put a hand on Furuta’s shoulder. He was giving him the look of a parent who as to deal with a troublesome child. “I have business with you,” the boy then looks at you with sympathy. “involving her.”
The dam in Furuta’s head broke and he was flooded with questions. What is he implying? Was the reason ___ turned me in because she decided to hook up with the centipede boy here? Is that what he’s about to tell me? Furuta swivels his head to you, then back to Kaneki. “What exactly are you trying to tell me, hm?”
“That this is all a big misunderstanding now hear me out,” Kaneki’s hand leaves his shoulder and he instead favors them in a gesture which seemed to mean 'please calm tf down.’
“What do you mean 'hear me out?’” Furuta hissed at him in exasperation. He locked his gaze on you and you drew back a little. “I’m the one who’s been hurt by you, I have every right to be pissed. Everything was going so well between us. And now you want to explain?”
Tears began to form in the your eyes and you looked away from Furuta in utter shame. You sobbed, “You’re right Furuta. You’re right. You have every reason to hate me,” now your tears were waterfalls, your nose dripping and you quaked with sadness. “Just look at what I did to you! You’re covered with horrible wounds and you can barely stand for God’s sake!”
Kaneki went to comfort you and he wrapped a reassuring arm around your body, but Furuta only stood rigid with crossed arms. Kaneki glared at him, obvious anger swimmed in his eyes. Seeing this man act so cold to you when you tried so hard to protect him.
“FUURUUTAAAA…” The boy was absolutely choleric and sprung at Furuta. He snatched Furuta by his tattered excuse of a shirt, pulling him right up to his face. The older man squealed in surprise, he could practically feel the boy’s hot breaths on his cheek. “IT WASN’T HER FAULT, DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT ALREADY? THE DOVES WERE GOING TO KILL THE BABY IF ___ DIDN’T DO IT!” Kaneki shook him violently, but Furuta couldn’t feel it, he was stunned.“ SHE HAD NO CHOICE AND CAME TO ME WITH TEARS IN HER EYES BEGGING ME TO SAVE YOU, WHY CAN’T YOU SEE THAT?!”
You screamed for Kaneki to let go because he gets it, he gets it already. In truth, no, Furuta didn’t get it and he fell limply to the ground. Everything felt wobbly and fake. What did he mean by that..? This whole time she didn’t purposefully betray him? And what was this about a baby again?
“B-baby..?” Furuta stuttered. “You.. and me… a child..?!”
“Yes, Furuta. I’m pregnant with your child,” You kneeled by his side and were happy to see he was finally coming to his senses. You put his hand on your so that he could feel the life growing there. Furuta fell forward into your arms and buried his bruised, bleeding face in your shoulders to cry softly. You rubbed his back lovingly in slow circles. For a few moments Kaneki allowed himself to smile at the scene, but then frowned crossed his face.
“Furuta, I’m sure you know that you can’t go back to the CCG now. There is no place for you there,” Kaneki stated.
Furuta only looked at him with sad knowing and you merely nodded morosely. There was a prolonged silence as this sunk in. Then Kaneki continued,
“That is why I want to ask you Kichimura Washuu, former CCG chairman, and you ___ ___ to come with me.”
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seven-faders · 8 years ago
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THE TIE WTF JUMIN Who the hell is this imposter !! My husband has been abducted and this imposter in a diagonally striped tie has replaced him!!?!!?
Also just look at that FAKE??!!? fucking smile!?
HEADCANNON ACTIVATE::SPOILERS AHEAD
Ok so Jumin's Valentine's episode has been my least favorite MysMe segment yet. It just feels so forced and I feel like Jumin's character has taken a couple of stumbling steps back from the good end of his main story (which I adored BTW). Like, all of the focus is on the stuff in the apartment rather than how your relationship has deepened. Which I think might have been needed since his after story takes place so soon after the RFA party. It's a shit ton of narration and the only thing that really seems to have changed in Jumin's life is his apartment decor. I don't get the same sense that MC is supporting him and plays an active role in his life like I do with the other characters.
BUT what if-now hear me out-what if the Valentine's episode is actually a snippet of some really bad shit going down.
The most important thing to Jumin in his relationship with MC seems to be alone time (not like that you pervs-although probably that too). He obviously likes getting her things too because he can and he believes she deserves only the best. But gifts, even a mountain of gifts, I don't think would be what Jumin would opt for during a special occasion like Valentine's day. He's more the couple's retreat or even the stay-cation, breakfast in bed type. And what if that's what they had planned and MC knew this.
But, suddenly, two days before they planned to get away, Jumin starts acting strangely. Almost reverting to his pre-MC days. That afternoon he received a cryptic threat from sources unknown to leave MC...Or else. MC is not safe.
Luciel does some digging and for once in his gotdamn life, Jumin can't fix it. Even the pent house isn't safe. He can't hire body guards to protect her. They could be anywhere. He can't sue them. Can't buy them. Can't stop them.
He can only leave.
So he does. "My business trip has been extended. I'll be gone at least four days."
"But that means-"
"I know. I'm sorry, my love. There's nothing I can do about it this time. I have to go."
MC feels the wrongness of it all. Something in his eyes-the heart she had so carefully cherished and coxed into life...felt cold and sickly. "I'll miss you."
His near eternal habit if fidgeting with his cuff links stills abruptly. He swallowes thickly and clenches his fist in a rare display of...what?
Frustration? Anger? Fear?
"I'll miss you too. So much." He clears his throat crisply as he gathers the last of his things. "Don't strain yourself in the gym downstairs. Driver Kim will be ready anytime you need to go anywhere. And please tell someone where you are if you leave." He's out the door in moments.
MC finds the memo later. There's something off about it. The pen strokes are erratic. The words aren't aligned. A couple of words are misspelled. It's almost hard to read. That can't be right.
Jumin has pristine handwriting.
On impulse she snaps a picture of it and sends it to V. Someone who she knew would see what she was seeing, and hopefully more.
"What do you make of this?" She doesn't receive a response.
Jumin left her a voice mail that night long after she had surrendered to sleep. It wasn't from a number she recognized. It was almost heartbreaking to listen to. He sounded so tired. So sad when he said her name. He reminisced for a bit about a stop at a vineyard they made on their honeymoon earlier that year. But he kept recounting things wrong. The cabin they stayed in... The names of the four cats the husbandman kept on the property...
She tried several times that day to call him. Her soul ached to do anything to lift his spirits. Each time her calls went to voicemail. And she was left with another equally painful, equally confusing voicemail when dawn broke on February 14.
When Zen called late into the afternoon it was impossible to hide her negative emotions. Zen misread her pain for disappointment about a simple holiday, but she was glad for the comfort nonetheless.
When the door to the penthouse finally opened MC's heart lept so fiercely her legs might have followed suit and launched her into her husband's arms were they not already occupied. How many boxes could one man possibly carry?!
Jumin dropped the gifts carelessly onto the nearest surface, which so happened to be the sofa, and enveloped MC in a crushing embrace. One she melted into as much as she could considering the thick coat he was wearing. An odd wardrobe choice, to be certain. It had been unseasonably warm for weeks.
Jumin whispered his words of love and explained away his early return before his focus shifted to the many boxes scattered in the sofa next to the two of you. He apologized for the mess but didn't move them. Opting instead to lower MC and himself to the floor between the furniture.
As the boxes were opened one by one MC's feeling of foreboding began to swell once again. She already had that color of lipstick. It was identical to one he brought home for her last week. Where those shoes? Jumin never personally bought her shoes. It was one of the few things he was superstitious about. And that hairpin. MC never said she liked it. In fact the two of them had a laugh when they first saw it, agreeing it was strangely tacky for the high class shop it was in.
MC’s gaze landed on his necktie. It wasn't one she had packed for him. He loved it when she chose his ties. And she NEVER would have chosen this one. Jumin hated diagonal stripes. Diagonals made him anxious. MC looked into his eyes. But the look there stilled the question teetering on her tongue. The strain in his smile. The barely-there crease between his brows.
"I never stopped thinking about you. I kept fidgeting with my wedding ring because of how much I missed you." His fingers entwined with MC's and gripped tight.
He wasn't wearing his ring.
Something was very, very wrong.
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