#ive been TRYING to avoid thinking about it at least. i hate feeling this pathetic and lost and hurt. all over someone who couldnt give me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deluluass · 4 years ago

Text

all yours; all mine

71 and 58 with Atsumu pleaseeese. I just love this man and I would appreciate it if you wrote something with him. Youre so talented!💕 — anon

sidenote: anon, i hope u know that u have a very special place in my heart for being the first ask ive ever received. i hope u are well & having a gr8 day ;U;

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; daddy kink; mild angst; implied post-breakup depression; toxic relationship/s

Breakups are a messy business. A lot of crying, begging, screaming (if it's that type of a breakup). Whatever it is, breakups generally inspire intense— so-intense-it-could-get-you-kicked-out-if-you're-in-a-public-place, high-strung, and the most unpleasant kind of emotions.

It’s understandable, considering you’re losing the person you love.

But he doesn't even look upset.

"Aah," Atsumu sing-songed, twirling the plastic stirrer between his fingers. "Ya wanna call it off?"

The heat from the mug bit your skin as you gripped it.

"What?" you choked, shaking your head. "I didn't say that, Atsumu. I only-"

He scoffed. "Fuckin'- ya just did."

You finally looked up at him, porcelain clinking as you placed your drink back on the saucer. Ball cap on, muscles filling up and straining his hoodie and jeans; even in an outfit that almost concealed him he never fails to take your breath away.

Only, it's for a different reason this time.

"I said that I-" you cleared your throat. "I want- I want you to-"

"I get it, I get it." Atsumu sighed, waving his hand nonchalantly. "Let's break up, then."

He was already standing up and he didn't even deign to meet your eyes. You didn't expect much when you'd travelled all the way to Tokyo just to have a talk with him. After all, the last conversation you had was over the phone. (And that, too, did not go well).

Though, is it too much to expect he'd at least listen to what you have to say?

"Tsumu-kun! Wait!"

Some customers were already staring, urging you to hide, hop on the next train, and run back home; away from the cold scrutiny of strangers.

But not now. Not when what you have with him is hanging on a balance.

"Please, sit down and- and let's talk," you huffed, voice and hand trembling as you held onto his.

Breakups are a messy business, you heard.

A lot of crying. A lot of begging. A lot of screaming. Whichever kind it is, don't breakups usually inspire only the most intense emotions?

But he doesn't even look upset, doesn't even look like he feels anything other than a passing irritation, as if you were a fly buzzing in his ear, when he told you, "I know this is ya first rodeo, but yer gonna find someone new eventually, hm?"

It's been a long time coming, Atsumu thinks. He'd known for quite a while now that his relationship with you would end, actually, ever since you'd wanted to include "feelings" and "trust" and "opening up" into the mix.

"Why?" he'd laughed at your face once. "What? Ya ain't happy? That it? We got somethin' good goin' on don't we?"

He didn't get it, at first. You'd always been your cheerful, bubbly self; never failing to be that one sunny spot when his day gets too pesky and such a pain in the ass. You were happy.

Until you weren't.

"You don't.. tell me things," you muttered, fiddling with your hands on the kitchen table. "Which is fine! I'm not- go at your pace, but- but know that I'd listen to you. Always. I'm here, 'Tsumu."

And it wasn't as if he didn't try. It's just that Atsumu realized, a few months later, that he wasn't any good at it.

Every time he'd lay it all out in front of you⁠— every tiny and pathetic and gritty part of him, you would eventually take him in your arms. So much smaller, weaker than his and yet Atsumu did not mind if it could be his entire world.

Then, a thought would creep in, like a thief that'd stab him in his sleep. In the safety of those tender arms, with those guileless eyes peering at him, Atsumu would think that he'd rather stay there forever, cling onto you until he bites the dust.

It disgusted him.

Atsumu couldn't stand it. Because if he could be anything in this short life, he'd choose to be perfect. And that- that wasn't it.

So he avoided it when the occasion arose. Diverting the subject to mundane stuff was easy, at first. The weather, the new show you're binging, your slacker of a boss, what happened back in the game. When that didn't work⁠— well, there were other ways.

(His favorite was sticking his tongue in your wet cunt, to prod at the soft walls with the tip, and to lap and suck at the clit until you're begging for the stretch of his fat cock.)

The break up was understandable. When you'd greeted him in the café as if you'd spent the entire time you were apart crying, Atsumu knew it was over.

You just repeated what you'd always said. It's okay to be vulnerable. If he needs some time to work out the right words then you'd always wait because I love you, 'Tsumu.

(But there was that feeling again. Like he could die on the spot if you would so much as leave his sight.)

(Ending it was the only way out. When poison seeps itself into the bloodstream, you're left with no choice but to cut off a part of you.)

Unlike others, he can say that it was a clean parting. You wanted something and he was bad at it. And because he hated fucking up, Atsumu decided to leave. Easy.

Really, the only people who didn't understand were his teammates.

"That's strange," Hinata spat, rice bursting to his chin when he suddenly faced Atsumu. "I don't think I've seen her for weeks now."

He could hear barely suppressed groans behind him, no doubt from Bokuto and the others, before their spiker blurted out a confused, "What?"

Because, of course, Hinata could only mean one "her.” (There had only ever been one that Atsumu Miya allowed inside the team's gymnasium; inside his circle of friends; inside his life.)

Apparently, except for Hinata Shoyo, everyone had caught on that the both of you had thrown in the towel, so to speak. (And here they thought the guy's finally in it for real.)

"Nah, it's fine," Atsumu smirked, addressing it to everyone gathered around Samu's onigiri stand.

"We broke up."

He clicked his tongue. "It's not like there ain't no other fish in the sea."

The remark, casually said in between sips of cold coffee, was met with a gaping silence.

That turned out to be right, like everything else that he'd predicted.

A hole is a hole is a hole is a hole. No disrespect meant to you. But before you there had been many others who'd helped warm his bed. It just so happened that you got to stay for far longer.

(Because waking up next to you meant waking up to that dreamy look, as if whoever's in charge up there has finally given you everything you've ever wanted.)

(And when he greets you with a hoarse good morning you say it back with eyes that tell him he's worth it, simply for being there.)

Anyway, going back to that old routine hadn't been difficult.

(Except when he finally does it with someone new, for some reason he keeps searching for a different touch, expecting that endearing combination of inexperience and enthusiasm.)

(And when they cum he can't help but put a hand on their mouth, around their throat, because he's hearing the wrong voice, seeing the wrong face.)

It's obvious, looking at him. Everyone can see that life's going pretty well for Atsumu. He can only hope that the same goes for you.

"You're miserable."

Peeling your attention away from the mother braiding her young daughter's hair, you hurriedly brought it back to the two women sitting in front of you.

"See?" Aya swung her hand in your direction. "Not even listening."

"No, no," you giggled sheepishly. Kaori was already pursing her lips.

"No, seriously. I am."

You sat upright, setting the chopsticks on your bento box.

"Then what was it she said?" Kaori pressed. She folded her arms and you knew you were in trouble.

"Uh..huh." You nodded. "Right. So. Um...."

"You didn't catch it," said Kaori.

"I didn't catch it," you winced.

Both girls sighed.

The first three buttons of their blouses were open, the heat of the afternoon getting to them. And as they leaned back against the wooden bench, you had a feeling that they were about to give you the Conversation that's been waiting to happen for two long months.

That's why you'd decided to start it before they could. Just so it won't linger anymore painfully so.

“I know what you're going to say."

They only raised their brows, a mere "okay, go on" than an actual expression of surprise.

"I've been sad. I haven't been..fine. That is true," you inhaled, preparing yourself for the agonizing part. Then, you released your breath.

"Ever since..'Tsu-" you gulped. "Ever since breaking up with Atsumu I haven't been feeling like myself but nowadays I'm getting back on my feet and I'm still working see so really there's no need to worry okay? Okay."

Aya grinned, but it didn't hold her usual devil-may-care humor to it.

"You say that," she started, "but we’ll probably always be if you keep at that- at that⁠—"

"You're rarely in the moment," Kaori supplied, to which Aya replied with a harsh thank you. "You're distracted. And we know you're trying your best to be okay on your own. We've given you space, but remember that you have us."

Something was lodged in your chest and you found it hard to breathe. You'd missed them. You hadn't realized it, but you missed your friends.

So much.

"Thank you," you whispered, forcing back tears. "I- I wouldn't know what to do if it not for you two-"

"Hold it." Aya raised a palm. "Before you get corny again. Can I just say, I know he's your first dick-"

"Aya," Kaori murmured.

"And we all know it was good-"

"Aya," you hissed.

Your face burned as you searched from left to right, making sure no innocent being heard her.

"But can I just say," she slapped a palm on the surface of the table. "I don't care what you or the TV or his fans say about him! But the man's a walking red flag since day one!"

Kaori rolled her eyes. And despite yourself you couldn't keep a chuckle from bubbling.

"Here we go again."

Aya almost rose from her seat. "When he sent that poor dude from accounting to the ER for just, I don't know, breathing your way, I knew something was up!"

You felt your smile die.

That had been the first time it happened. You'd asked him what's wrong, after you'd rushed to the hospital, and all he gave you was silence. A whole day of it. He hadn't spoken a word about it, only that he'd warned you not to talk to that bastard again, or else.

(You'd learned, much, much later, that he doesn't do well with people that annoy him. That's what he said. You wanted to know more, but he suddenly decided that he had to make it up to you between the sheets.)

Kaori touched your hand. "Talk to us," she whispered.

You hummed as you shook your head. "I just remembered him," you said, only half of the truth.

If they knew it, they didn't let on. But Aya did say, "Tell you what. Company outing's upon us. So you know what that means?"

"Oh, I don't know," you mumbled apologetically. "I might sit this one out."

"No," Kaori gritted.

Aya held your face with both hands as she stared you down.

"You will buy yourself a new swimsuit. You will enjoy that cheap beach resort."

The heaviness was lifting, bit by bit, as you felt your stomach ache with laughter. And with each silly word uttered by your friends, you could almost see the gray clouds overhead disappearing. Even for a little while.

"And you, you beautiful person you," Aya beamed. "Will finally, finally get laid."

Having best friends who are dead set on helping you get over an ex is a fearsome thing to behold, indeed.

You couldn't even get a word in edgewise as they took you in a whirlwind of spas, salons, mani-pedis, and shopping bags.

"Calm down. You rarely spend for yourself," Kaori told you when she'd caught you peeking forlornly at the frightening bill you'd amassed.

But, try as you might to miss owning a fat wallet, you couldn't deny that you have no regrets wasting your money away. Not even for a single cent. Because you did feel amazing.

And when the day arrived, you couldn't help at the giddiness of having compliment after compliment thrown your way.

"Is that really you?" said a co-worker when you'd boarded the bus. "You're glowing!"

During the games, as well, you'd often hear "Love the new look!" and "Have I ever told you before that you're so pretty? Because you are." And you'd preen with a soft-spoken thank you, having been taught by Kaori that denying a compliment makes one look stupid.

It was so silly, honestly. Though not the part where, after a lovely comment, you'd be emboldened to strike an actual conversation. Learning that a coworker has a new baby now, or that so and so has recently moved up the corporate ladder; learning that, during your period of grief and self-pity (and even during the blissful time you’d spent with Atsumu), there were so many things you hadn't noticed.

You basked in it: the shower of pleasantries and anecdotes that had you feeling soft and fuzzy inside. The same way you lazed on the sandbar, clutching tiny conch shells in your hand, as you watched the sun tinge the sparkling waves with warm light.

"Hey."

You jolted, turning towards the person who'd called your name. It was him. "Poor dude from accounting" as Aya dubbed him.

"Sano-san," you gasped, reaching for the towel beside you to cover up. "How- how are you?"

Of all the people in your office, he was the last one you wanted to see. Solely for the reason that things have been awkward between you ever since that incident. A working relationship characterized by the literal turning of the other cheek whenever you two bumped into each other.

"Oh, pardon me," he scratched the back of his head. "Do you..want me to go?"

Yes.

"No..!" you blurted out. "I think-"

The sun was almost setting. You wrapped the towel around you as you took in the balmy sea breeze.

"I think I'm done hiding," you whispered, meeting his gaze for the first time in a long while, head on and baring the tiniest hint of shame, like how you did with your friends and other coworkers.

He didn't say anything, allowing you to continue. "I- It's nice. Talking to people again," you giggled. "Look, Sano-san. About before, I'm really sor-"

"Actually," he smiled. "That's why I'm here. Well, my partner pushed me but-"

You grinned at the blush that rose to his cheeks.

"But I wanted to tell you: No hard feelings."

Sano-san extended a hand. You stared at it for a few seconds. His hand, then his face. Back to his hand, then his face again. And when you'd finally accepted it, it felt like witnessing the cage that’s imprisoned you for centuries finally open.

"By the way," he added, walking back towards an obviously amused fianceé. "It's a good look on you, being happy."

Atsumu entertained the possibility that maybe— just maybe, not everything was fine the night the Jackals went home after an overseas tournament.

As soon as the plane landed on Japanese soil, the hunger he felt throughout the journey morphed into some kind of anticipation, palpable through the thrill that electrified him into wakefulness. He might have left in a hurry, only half of his mind present when the Coach ordered for a short meeting.

His foot tapped endlessly on the way⁠— while in the car; during the tedious elevator ride⁠— and when he'd finally entered his pad, slamming the door open with much eagerness than usual, Atsumu felt his heart plummet down his stomach when he was welcomed by a dark and empty hallway.

You're not here. Not anymore.

Hasn't it been almost half a year now? Why did he expect you, face brightened by a grin that went from ear to ear, to materialize in front of him, with the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen? As if a magician with a hat trick.

("Welcome back!" he was aching to hear.)

(You always insisted on eating with him when he got home; sometimes opting to just stay by his side⁠— munching on a midnight snack while you babbled on, if he arrived later than usual and you'd already had dinner.)

("It's lonely having a meal on your own," you explained. "Don't you think food tastes better if you have someone with you?")

Perhaps it was the jet lag. Or, it could be that the abrupt change in time zones was starting to mess with his head. Either way, Atsumu was sure that sleep would eventually cure him of the momentary delirium.

But then he woke up the next day feeling like someone had pissed in his morning drink. The day after that, too. Even the next had been the same, persisting onto the following weeks.

Until one game, after a winning streak that had the crowd chanting their names and with blood still roaring in his veins, he condescended to survey the numerous people occupying the bleachers.

And when he couldn't find one⁠— one person that had always stood out to him despite being constantly drowned in an ocean of spectators— it was only then that Atsumu Miya decided that enough was enough.

You hadn't really agreed with Aya when she told you that you'd be getting "laid" during this short vacation.

Reason number one: it's a company outing. And you're sure you'd be breaking some protocols by fooling around with any of your coworkers. Reason Two: as you'd sagely imparted to a miffed Aya, "I don't think it's nice to cure a broken heart with sex; strings attached or no."

That being said, the lingerie she'd chosen for you did flatter your figure. It didn't matter that "no one would see it," as Aya grumbled. It was enough for you that you yourself saw it, you thought as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror.

The way it was tailored made it seem like it was made just for your body. The details of lace also made it look so pretty that you felt kind of sad that you'd have to cover it up with a summer dress soon.

Nevertheless, you allowed yourself to strike a few poses in front of the mirror; feeling like a teenager on their first date as you admired how you looked in it.

You smiled to yourself, humming a tune, before you opened your makeup kit and prepared the necessities you'd be bringing for the bonfire dinner.

"Wipes: check," you murmured, rummaging through your bag. "Hygiene stuff. Where are you hygiene stuff, hygiene stu⁠—"

You froze.

Something rustled. Outside. As if something had moved.

Putting a robe back on, your heart thundered against your chest as you stepped out of the bathroom and into the dimly lit sleeping area, illuminated only by a small reading lamp.

"Be careful there, girlie," the old caretaker warned as she guided you to this room. "Lots of mean spirits lurking about."

You didn't believe in ghosts. For some reason, however, your coworkers did. So you'd taken it to yourself to move here after a room assignment mishap, leaving Aya and Kaori behind.

It didn't seem like the cursed chamber that she purported to be. Sure, it was isolated at the furthest wing of the beach house, away from the other rooms and separated by a too dark hallway. But that had been the creepiest thing about it. Besides, you heard from logistics that renting the house didn't cost much, despite its size, so maybe it's just that they lacked the resources to renovate.

The floorboards creaked beneath you. "Aya? Aya, I know it's you," you called out as you squinted, catching a faint silhouette reclined at the corner of the bed.

It was too large to be Aya, but you chalked that up to the shadows playing with your eyes. You puffed out a chortle, resting a hand on your hips when she finally stood.

"Very funny, Aya," you snorted when she sauntered towards you. "Just you wait until Kaori hears about.…" you trailed off.

"......this."

You drew in a breath as she moved closer, revealing a build that was much taller, towering almost in the small room, shoulders that are way broader than the ones your friend has, and a face that clearly wasn't Aya's.

"Evenin'," Atsumu yawned.

Your legs refused to listen to you.

"Been a minute, hadn't it, darlin'?"

You don't know why he's here.

And even if you wanted to ask, you find that no sound could escape from your mouth when you tried to open it.

You do know this, as he gave you a lopsided grin that used to have you eating at the palm of his hand, along with a lazy gaze that was belied by a bird-like focus:

That although he told you that all he wants is a little chat, you knew that he didn't come here just for that.

You ran.

Atsumu had been the worst boyfriend.

He's aware of it now, realized it fully when he knocked on Samu's door, shit-faced, and it only took a single look and a consoling arm from his brother to break Atsumu into tears and snot, as well as Samu's voice telling him, "Yer a big baby. Ya need her, dontcha?"

That's why he followed you here, figuring that you'd love a thoughtful surprise. Because you always have. He didn't expect you'd take to it kindly, of course, not right away. But he also didn't expect that you would be doing the surprising.

You were talking to that man when he arrived.

Didn't he tell you not to?

His intentions still haven't changed. He's here to bring you back, but before anything else Atsumu's sure it's only normal that you guys clear things up first.

And if you're going to do that, he can't have you running away now, can't he?

Grabbing you by the waist, Atsumu's palm tingled at the feel of your body, pulling you closer to him as he pinned you to the wall and stifled your shrieks with his hand.

"Everybody's gone, angel," he whispered, losing himself in your skin, though covered in silk; lips and fingers roaming every which way because finally, finally, fuckin' finally you're here and you're real.

"Just wanna talk." He stroked the curve of your ass, middle finger tracing the lining of the crack. "Ain't this what'ya always wanted? S'let's talk," he murmured against your collarbone.

You were already crying, shaky hands weakly grasping his back and tears wetting even his cheeks. Atsumu couldn't help but smile. You'd always been a crier. It's one of the many things he loves about you. Always so honest with your emotions.

"I missed ya," Atsumu groaned as he grinded his cock against your pussy, feeling it harden when he mouthed your tits.

There was something peeking out of your robe, he noticed as it became more rumpled.

"D-don't," you breathed, your attempt to swat his hands away thwarted when he seized your wrist.

It was lace. The color pulling the eye to your body like a siren's song. And when he stripped the robe off of you, silk swishing down your elbows, Atsumu saw that it was a piece of lingerie. One that he hasn't seen before.

Because he didn't buy this one. It wasn't from him. You weren't the type to get one yourself.

Until now.

"This for him?" he murmured, pressing a kiss against your pulse, beating like a drum against his lips.

"Wh-who?" you whimpered.

"The ugly piece of shit. Saw you guys gettin' chummy earlier."

He was close, too close to you, back at the beach. You smiled at him, laughed and showed him what he isn't supposed to see. And when he touched you— when the fucker touched you, Atsumu wanted blood on his hands.

"Yer gonna fuck the guy whose face I busted?"

You squeaked as he dug his blunt nails against your wrist. Atsumu licked the red impressions they made.

"And what- what about it?" Your voice was so brittle and small. God, he just wanted to hold you. "It's none of your business, who I spend my time with. And don't- don't tell me you're jealous because-"

He chuckled, the sound of it making you shrink back into the wall. "Jealous? Doll, ya wouldn't wanna know what I'm feelin right now. But, sure." Atsumu lightly nipped at the tips of your fingers.

"'Course I'm jealous," he rasped. "You're mine."

Then, Atsumu looked at you. And what he saw in your eyes made him stumble that when you shoved him away, all he could do was stand and stare.

"I'm not your thing, Atsumu," you cried. A light-year difference from the girl who'd always stare at him so tenderly. "I never was and I never will be. I'm not yours."

You didn't run this time. You should've.

Atsumu clenched his jaw. "Like hell ya ain't," he snarled.

People say that breakups are a messy business. Atsumu was so sure he wouldn't have to endure that, before he met you. Now that he's had the experience, though, Atsumu can say with confidence that breakups are, in fact, a goddamn mess.

But you're over that now. It's time to turn over a new leaf and return to one another. And Atsumu's finding out, in the process, that making up can be astonishingly reminiscent of the breakup.

You started crying when you woke up, screaming for help as you tried to budge the rope that was tying your hands to your knees. You got louder when you found out that you were naked and not in the rickety confines of the beach house.

"Welcome home, baby," he beamed, eying you from between your legs.

The begging started when you realized how drenched your little pussy was, his tongue lapping and slathering the cum dripping from your twitching hole, against your swollen folds; his calloused thumb massaging deep circles on your clit.

And when he stuck another inside your puckered asshole, you writhed out of your binds and squealed, "T-tsumu-kun…!"

Fuck.

"Babydoll," he growled. "Daddy's gotcha, daddy's gonna treat ya so fuckin' good."

He slapped your damp cunt with his long fingers, thrusting them inside to rub and feel at your walls, at the bump that never failed to make you screech. "Daddy's been mean hasn't he? Hm? Been a bad daddy to ya, baby?"

You could only gasp out wordlessly as he slurped the juices off your clit, not stopping until you were gushing, sloppy cum drizzling on the bedsheet, every muscle in spasms, incapable of even stretching out your legs although Atsumu knew you wanted to, you really wanted to so fuckin' bad, resorting to curling your toes instead.

"E-enough, please, please, stop!"

How adorable, Atsumu thought. "My little slut," he cooed, tapping the tip of his hard cock on your pussy. "My good 'lil fucktoy."

He relished it, wanting to draw this on forever, so he slides it against your folds, pussy lips wrapping the meat of his cock, gyrating his hips back and forth, as if he were fucking you, and grabbing your tits to play with your nipples.

"Atta girl," he laughed, licking his teeth when he finally sunk inside your tight cunt, pushing you so far down into the mattress until his chest was rubbing against your tits, your feet dangling against his shoulders.

"I don't-I don't want this, 'Tsumu," you sobbed. "Don't want this!"

Oh, of course you don't. Atsumu knows you don't. He'd fucked you against your will, after all.

But you were taking him so well, darlin'. Your walls were hugging his cock so fuckin' nicely that he couldn't help but shove deeper inside you, craving for the way your pussy twitched rapidly around him.

If you weren't bound, he's also sure that you'd be pushing his hips away. But that's not what's getting to him. Because as he pistoned his cock into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass, you instantly turned your face away.

Did you know that you were breaking his heart? Shattering it to pieces, when you close your eyes like doors, locking them to prevent him from ever reaching you again.

So he gripped your chin. Forced you to meet his eyes as you wept and shook your head.

"Am gonna be better, baby," he groaned. "No more keeping things from ya. None of that bullshit, now."

Atsumu shivered as you came around him, convulsing under him and strained voice still begging him to stop. Because he wasn't. He would never stop. Not when it comes to you.

"Am all yours, angel. All yours." He pounded your fucked out cunt, chasing his own high as he kneaded your tits.

A tear fell from your eyelids. And when he kissed you, it felt like everything in his life shifted back in its rightful place. "You can have it all," he sighed, cupping your cheek.

"So give me all of you now," Atsumu pleaded. "Come back to me."

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #yandere atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x female reader #dark content haikyuu #prompt

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theropoda · 4 years ago

Text

remember when i said id post yakuza train of thoughts here. well heres one of those lol, mine yoshitaka flavor. spoilers for yakuza 3

ok so confession. ive spent like 2 or so hours on this post because i have one main thought but its so mangled with 500 other useless thoughts about mine that ive had to write and rewrite and restructure this entire post like 20 times god help me!!!!!! so if this is written in a goddamn incomprehensible manner IM SORRY

b4 i start i wanna say i like mine but i hate the way he's written. i like him cause he's really entertaining to me and yet he feels unpolished in my eyes. on that note if you disagree with that or anything else here i'd love to hear why tbh, maybe you'll change my mind! maybe you won't, but even then i'd come out of it with a different perspective. even if i disagree with someone's ideas on a character i still like hearing them

but here's the Main thing and its that to this day i dont understand mine's motivation. what was he trying to do and why? i have an idea of what an why but if it's true, and it's what the game was conveying,then wow it's really. uh stupid

from what i understand, all of mine's actions in the game stem from the fact that he thinks daigo's gone just because he's in a coma??? like idk if mine thinks daigo's going to die for sure, but it seems as though it doesn't even matter if he's dead, cause to him the moment he's put on life support he's useless???

he literally says (in the remastered version, at least), "if Daigo-san were still alive right now, I never would have gotten involved." "Daigo-san is good as dead." and when kiryu says what the fuck he's literally right there breathing he responds "He's nothing more than a tangle of tubes now. That's not a life worth living." ????????

all his actions are a result of him thinking daigo is dead, gone forever, but he.s Not hes right there son he could come back alive. this shit makes NO sense to me, and it'd've made so much more sense if daigo actually was presumed dead but turned out to be alive at the end of the game, just in hiding or something. mine's actions being the result of him thinking that being on life support is a pathetic existence is SUCH a fucking trip, its so bad. it's true that comatose patients are at risk of passing away, but daigo hasn't!!! he is in a state in which he MIGHT pass away but he hasn't!! why does mine assume he's gone when he's not even..,, i dont understand. ???

COULD THE ENTIRE PLOT OF THE GAME BEEN AVOIDED IF MINE ACTUALLY KNEW HOW COMATOSE PATIENTS AND LIFE SUPPORT WORKED??? MAYBE?? if that's the case then this is such a fuckig liquid snake moment of "i did everything i did because i dont understand how biology [in this case, human medicine] works" ?? GHDFHKJ

hell a more compelling story could've been mine wrecking havoc at an attempt to bring daigo back from his coma, since he himself says "I can't bear to see [daigo] like this"

oh and as for WHAT he's actually doing: ??? i dont know. from what i understand he's just trying to make the tojo more powerful by working with black monday to get that resort $$$?? i guess the moment he thought daigo was gone he just went "oh dw daigo ill make this clan more powerful"?

man idk. if you have a better idea of wtf is going on id be more than happy to hear it thru an ask or w/e

i have a bunch of other issues w him but im too tired. to talk about them so that's for another day ig. toodles

#talking #yakuza #y3 #yakuza meta

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chaoskatya · 5 years ago

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unfinished brooke x katya hatefuck fic

hi yall :^) so ive had this sitting in my drafts for a WHILE and ive barely dented the actual planned plot but still i felt like it was kind of a waste of what i did write to not ?? idk do something with it? this was originally written for AQ’s rarepair event but irl stuff got in the way so it never got finished, and i kinda lost the inspo to finish it (for now? idk) so here it is, posted unedited in however it was when i last touched it

brooke x katya hatefuck, (well, planned, i obv hadnt written that far) inspired by pics of trixie and brooke together that one time they were weirdly hanging out a lot irl and that one outfit brooke has that looks like that one outfit katya has the polkadot one u know it

“Ugh, I swear, Vi! She really has something against me! I think she hates me!”

Katya punctuates her sentence with a flail of her arms for emphasis before flopping back onto her bed. Violet just rolls her eyes at her roommate’s dramatics, as per usual. This is the third time they’ve had this conversation this week.

“So she’s a little icy, what of it? It’s not like you’re not used to having a mega bitch around, you live with me,” Violet responds plainly, not even bothering to look up from her laptop, “and I don’t think anybody could hate you, Kat.”

Katya huffs at that. “No, I swear, she hates me.”

Katya Zamolodchikova is absolutely sure of three things in her university life: One, Trixie Mattel is her best friend. Two, nothing gets in between her and Trixie. Three, Brooke Lynn Hytes is absolutely making her best fucking attempt.

Katya and Trixie had met last year, Katya being a sophomore in visual arts and Trixie a freshman in musical theater, when Katya had accidentally crashed Ginger’s (kind of pathetic) attempt at being a tour guide for the freshmen of her course. They’ve only known each other for a year, but ever since then the two quickly became inseparable and a year had felt like a lifetime. All of their friends knew, and Katya held it close to her heart, that nothing could possibly stand in their way. That is, until the beginning of this semester.

Trixie had been elected as class representative at the start of their sophomore year, which did not surprise Katya one bit. But that meant that when Canadian exchange student Brooke Lynn Hytes had arrived for the semester, it was Trixie’s job to show her around and make her feel welcomed. And being that Brooke’s degree in classical dance meant her and Trixie had quite a few overlapping classes, the two hit it off and had gotten closer and closer since. It’s only half way through the semester, yet Katya feels as though she’s slowly becoming more and more of a background character in Trixie’s life. They still text each other when they can, but hangout times have slowly grown increasingly thin and so has Katya’s sanity. Not that it’s Trixie’s fault, of course…

“I can’t explain it. But I promise, it’s almost like she’s purposefully occupying Trixie from me! Every time it looks like we might get a chance to even just talk, she’s there coming round the corner asking Trixie for help in one of their classes or for show recs or whatever. And she always looks me dead in the eye, with her stupid fucking smirk, like she knows what she just did! I can’t explain the feeling I get when I see her!”

Katya’s hit full ranting steam now, half hanging off her bed still flailing as animated as ever.

Violet shuts her laptop and turns to face her. “Mama, sounds like you hate her. Sure it’s not just in your head because you’re jealous the amazon’s occupying your barbie?”

There’s a beat of silence. “Jealous? I guess?” Katya scrunches up her face and sits up. “I mean, how could I not be? With her stupid long legs and her flowing blonde hair, like god, Vi, she’s practically perfect! And have you seen her dance?”

Katya turns to pose her question, but Violet is just staring, giving her a look she can’t decipher. She continues,

“So then, fine, of course I’m jealous, but that’s because Trix is my best friend. I barely see her anymore, and when I do she’s always there and I just get so riled up! And I’m sure Trix has started to notice because god I just can’t stand it when she’s near, it just sets me alight in an awful way. I’ve never felt this way about anybody before!” And it’s true, Katya really does not think of herself as someone capable of fully hating someone else. But by god, is Brooke really testing that.

Violet scoffs, turning away to open her laptop once more. “Look Mary, all I gotta say is that that’s an awful lot of emotion for some best friend jealousy. Also, you have a lecture starting in ten minutes.”

Fuck! Katya checks her watch and immediately jumps up to scramble for her belongings, deeply thankful for her roommate’s type A tendencies yet internally chastising herself for allowing her ranting to consume her time like that. She quickly kisses Violet on the cheek and bids her farewell before putting on her boots and heading out of their dorm room to make her best effort to speed walk to class.

But as luck would have it, not that Katya has a lot of it, she quite literally walks right into the subject of their prior conversation. Well, speak of the devils…

“Oh! Trixie, hi!” Katya laughs, immediately reacting to steady Trixie from where Katya had almost knocked her over with the door. From the way she was standing, she figured she had opened the door just as Trixie was about knock.

“Katya! Thank god, I was worried you wouldn’t be in,” Trixie smiles back brightly, smoothing her fluffy golden hair back into place. (Not that it’s ever really out of place, Katya thinks to herself.)

Katya smiles at her, a sight for sore eyes she thinks, but when she realizes Brooke is standing at the end of the hall waiting for Trixie, her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Whether Trixie noticed Katya’s tension or not, she didn’t let on. At least Brooke had the decency to wait at a reasonable distance.

“Uh, yeah, I was just heading out though,” Katya replies, trying her best to look sympathetic. She doesn’t mind that she’s running late anymore, just feels bad she even has to go. “But did you need something?”

Trixie looks equally as sympathetic. “Yeah, uh, listen, I’m really sorry. I know we haven’t been able to hang recently and I’m really sorry for that, midterms and all…”

“Hey, it’s alright, I knew you were busy. It’s no problem, really.” That’s a lie.

“But now that it’s over, let’s celebrate! Let me make it up to you? Be my date to the Edwards party tonight?”

Katya’s smile softens. As much as she was planning to trade in the party for a well-deserved movie night in with Violet and Pearl, she finds she really can’t say no to Trixie, especially not when she’s looking at her like an apologetic puppy. Whipped.

“Down for anything with you, Barbie. Meet you at the dorm hall at 8?”

Trixie squeals and picks Katya up by the middle, “AAAAAAAH yes!! See you bitch!!”

Katya squirms violently to be put down but laughs it off anyway. She really can’t be too mad at her best friend.

“Anyway, I gotta run, see you later Trix!” She rushes to hug Trixie quickly once more before escaping as briskly yet casually as she can out the door. This fails her when all semblance of casualty is lost as she passes the point where Brooke is, all tall and blonde and beautiful even just standing around. As she passes, her gaze quite obviously steels ahead to avoid looking Brooke in the eye, but she can’t fail to catch the quite obvious smug smirk the Canadian has posed on her painted lips.

----

Katya managed to make it to class with only 5 minutes late, thankfully just as her professor was entering the other door. She plops down into her usual seat with an audible groan and immediately drops her head in her hands.

Brooke. Stupid fucking Brooke Lynn Hytes. Lately, Katya’s wandering thoughts always go back to her. There hasn’t been a time where her idle time hasn’t been haunted by a certain ballerina chipping away at her precious concentration. She sees perfect long blonde hair, icy blue eyes, and tone legs that go all the way up.

If she’s being completely honest with herself, she is just a bit jealous of Brooke but not for the reasons Violet insinuates. I mean, sure, she misses Trixie to bits. But that’s only one of the many straws on the camel that is Katya’s completely rational anger.

It’s not that she’s perfect, either, but that sure adds another straw. Seemingly introverted, but able to capture the hearts of anyone in her path through quick and honest charm. Graceful and poised, where Katya is not, and tall and curvy, where Katya is not. Katya really doesn’t understand how someone can attend 7am dance classes with a flawless mug and still leave rehearsals with not an eyelash out of place, it’s inhuman.

No, it’s that no matter how much others testify on her behalf, Katya does not understand it. She doesn’t know what she did, but she has somehow done something to aggravate Brooke against her, and it bothers her endlessly that she doesn’t even know what she did to incur such spite. Katya doesn’t see any of the charm or kindness that others profess, only smug smirks and cocky passive-aggressive jabs and a seemingly passionate desire to find any way she can to poke Katya’s buttons and prompt some kind of response. She’s lucky Katya has a lot more self control than most, and she’s restrained herself from biting back thus far.

She thinks back to the first time she spotted Brooke, on the first day of the semester when Katya had gotten bored and decided to drop in on Trixie’s representative duties despite explicit instructions not to intrude. She had found her in one of the gardens of the student commons, and instinctively made her way to run up and tackle her before realizing Trixie wasn’t alone and stopping dead in her tracks.

Trixie was sitting next to someone Katya didn’t recognize, which was a surprise in itself because Katya knew next to everybody personally in their modestly sized arts college. The girl was sitting next to Trixie on a bench, both hands holding one of Trixie’s own as Trixie appeared to animatedly be telling some story. Trixie then finally noticed Katya frozen standing awkwardly at some distance and paused in the middle of her speech to yell at Katya and becon her over.

“Katya! This is Brooke Lynn, a Canadian exchange student for the semester. Brooke, this is Katya, my best friend!”

Brooke lazily shifted her gaze from Trixie to give Katya the once over, glancing her up and down. Whatever she saw, she suddenly stood up and crowded into Katya’s space, gazing down at her intensely directly from the advantage their clear height difference gave her.

“Well, it’s certainly nice to meet you… Katya.”

And on her lips, the same painted red smirk. The same stupid smirk that would continuously haunt her until…

“Kat, you with us girl?” Hissed Pearl in her ear, jabbing her hard in the side.

#brooke lynn hytes #katya zamolodchikova #rpdr rpf #rpdr fanfic #brooke x katya #THE WHOLE PLOT WAS LIKE DONE i just lost the inspo to finish the thing #so idk i just felt weirdly compelled to like. post it #idk itll ease my guilt maybe for not finishing it #cat writes #cat.txt #my fics #wips

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the--sad--hatter · 6 years ago

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Phantom pain (2)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU

PAIRING - Bucky X Reader

WARNINGS - Bad Habits and Rough Sex, Angsty and Dark AF.

DESCRIPTION - Everybody in the world knew of you, but not who you really were. Some called you a vigilante, some called you a criminal and some called you a hero but all of them called you The Phantom. Only two people knew your real identity and they swore to never tell anyone but when The Avengers need to infiltrate a high-security facility, Bruce Banner deduces that you’re the only one who can pull it off. That decision puts you and Bucky Barnes on a path you can’t turn back from, even if neither of like where it’s leading.

Chapter Two - While You Were Sleeping

You had mere minutes to make this plan work.

Racing invisibly through the halls, you brought up the mental map of the facility map you had studied only hours before, making sure to avoid bumping into anything and giving yourself away. Nobody could see you but if you knocked over something or ran into someone, it would give you away.

Sweat poured off you in buckets, going invisible took up a lot of energy but you could do this if you did it fast. You reached the door you were searching for and phased through it and slipped inside. You paused and strained your ears for any sounds, making sure you were alone in the room. You crept through the room, eyes peeled for the right cabinet.

Your skin was burning and you dropped the invisibility, saving your energy for when you left.

You found what you needed and quickly rifled through the files, silently thanking Hydra for being paranoid enough to keep a paper copy of all their files. You slipped out your phone and took pictures of everything, regardless of what it was. Tony could sift through it.

Names, dates and awful pictures caught your eye and you swallowed thickly, trying not to focus on it. Voices drifted down the hallway and you picked up the pace, changing to video camera and rapidly flicking through all the files. You could freeze frame each page later, and by you, you meant Friday.

Someone jostled the door-handle and you slammed the cabinet closed and slipped your phone under the material of your suit. You let your body deteriorate again and the tendrils of odourless smoke you left behind dissipated as an agent opened the door. They didn’t even flinch as you walked straight past them and through the door.

You ran back through the hallways, holding onto the invisibility and didn’t drop it until you were at least a mile away from the facility and walking up the ramp of the shielded quinjet.

“Twenty-three minutes and seventeen seconds. You owe me a bottle of Macallan select reserve.” Tony crowed victoriously.

You didn’t have the chance to respond before the floor of the quinjet was rushing towards you and everything went dark.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You dragged your eyes open and winced at the bright lights that assaulted your poor innocent eyeballs. Your mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool balls and your skin felt like you’d fallen asleep on the beach at high noon.

“Oh my god.”

You turned your head to the side to see who had spoken and saw Tony stood at the door watching you in shock and awe, dropping the beaker he was holding and ignoring it as it smashed against the ground.

“You’re awake.” He said, slowly.

“Oh, is that why my eyes are open?” You croaked.

He stumbled over to your bedside and looked down at you reverently.

“You’re really awake. I thought... we thought...”

“Why are you being so weird?” You said, coughing to clear the scratchy feeling in your throat.

“Princess, you were in a coma.”

“What?” You demanded, well wheezed pathetically.

“You’ve been asleep for three years.”

You tried to sit up in a panic, when Tony started chuckling loudly at the look on your face.

“Oh you fucker.” You rasped.

“Like I’d keep you in my lab for three years, I’d pull the plug as soon as I could.” He joked, ducking to avoid the pillow you threw at him.

“I hate you.” You grumbled.

“Nobody hates me, I’m adored the world over. You were only out for three hours by the way.” He said, lapsing back into laughter as you pouted at the pillow you’d thrown and made grabby hands until he handed it back.

“Everybody hates you, you just pretend otherwise so you don’t shatter that impressively huge ego.”You retorted.

“You think I’m impressive?”

“Fuck off Snark.”

“Fine, I won’t help you remove your IV drip, you can HEY STOP THAT!” He shrieked at you in the middle of sentence as you pulled the IV out.

“What did she do?” Bruce’s worried voice preceded him as he hurried through the door.

“You’re the worst patient ever.” Tony reprimanded you.

You started flatly at Bruce and motioned between yourself and Tony.

“You’re right, he’s a worse patient.” Bruce agreed, checking your vitals.

“Rude. I’m leaving now, you two are ganging up on me again.” Tony muttered as he stalked away, though you noticed him quickly check your vitals himself before he did.

“What’s up doc?” You asked Bruce as the Iron Man flounced away in a huff.

“Same as usual. You over exerted yourself. You were dehydrated so we put you on an IV but since that clearly didn’t last, go drink some water. You’re nearly back to your baseline health.” Bruce said, shaking his head at you fondly.

“Did Snark get the pictures off my phone?” You asked as you sat up and stretched, Bruce hovering over you.

“He did. Friday is combing though them and converting them into computer files for the team.” He said, patting you on the knee proudly.

“I owe you one Friday.” You said.

“You owe me several dozen.” She pointed out.

“Petty doesn’t suit you darlin.” You retorted.

“It looks like you got everything we needed though, as well as a little extra. It would have been a perfect mission if you didn’t pass out again.” Bruce said snarkily.

“Oh good, I can go home before anyone wonders where I was. I’m running out of excuses, I don’t know if I can pull off another ‘rehab’ cover.” You said in relief.

“You might want to shower and change first.” He said, motioning to the Phantom suit you were still wearing.

“Good idea... Friday wanna let me into Tony’s room? I bet he has the fanciest shower.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Bucky had spent far too many hours researching you, flipping through article after article about your drunken adventures and ‘sexcapades’. You were a party animal according to the tabloids, always hitting up clubs and throwing extravagant parties. There was also mention of a few stints in rehab and numerous different flings mentioned.

Surprisingly there were very few photo's of these ‘incidents’. Most likely you were buying off the tabloids to keep the embarrassing pictures out of the articles. Over all, he wasn’t impressed by you at all.

According to Bruce, you were basically a prodigy and if Banner thought that, it must be true. The fact that you were so reckless and stupid when you were so gifted annoyed Bucky. You were brat, and you needed someone in your life to set you on the straight and narrow. But that wasn’t his problem.

His eyes narrowed as you waltzed into the common room, your hair messily piled on your head and your feet bare.

“Making yourself at home?” He asked you.

You glanced up at him nonchalantly.

“Yup.” You said, popping the p at the end as you opened the fridge and perused it’s contents, pulling out a bottle of water and guzzling it.

“Aren’t you supposed to be busy hacking Hydra?” He asked you.

“Been there, done that.” You said smugly.

“You’re done?” He blinked owlishly at you.

“You did hear the bit where I’m the best in the world, right? Oh my bad, age has probably affected your hearing.” You said, smirking cheekily at him.

He stood up and stalked over to you where you were leaning against the counter-top and pressing the cold water bottle to your neck.

A small drop of condensation dribbled off the glass bottle and into the hollow of your throat and his eyes tracked it as it rolled down your chest and disappeared into the valley between your breasts.

“You’re insolent and egotistical Devchushka. That attitude might amuse Stark but it doesn’t amuse me.” He growled at you.

“Oh.” You said, looking chastised and biting your lip.

“Well, It’s a mighty good thing that I’m not trying to amuse you then Starikashka.” You teased in a seductive purr, winking at him and strutting away.

Yes, somebody definitely needed to put you in your place.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“West? Are you here?” You called as you unlocked the front door to your apartment.

Silence was the only answer and you breathed a sigh of relief as you shrugged your coat off and flung it over the back of an armchair.

There was a small chirping meow at your feet and you smiled.

“Hello Frank, did West feed you?” You asked the bulky cat.

Frankenstein, or Frank as you called him wasn’t technically your cat. He was just some ass-hole stray cat who followed you home one night and refused to leave until you fed him. He would disappear for days, sometimes weeks and reappear at will.

You padded over to the kitchen with the infernal cat twisting around your ankles. You noted the dry cleaning hung over a kitchen stool and the foil covered lasagne dish on the counter. Apparently West had stopped by earlier and left food for you.

He was your fathers butler/assistant and had practically raised you so when you moved out of the family home, he didn’t take it well. He came by nearly every day and continued to look after you.

Your phone vibrated in your coat and you skidded across the floor back over to it to read the text.

Snark: You still owe me that bottle of Scotch, just because you swooned into my arms it doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten that you took more than 20 minutes to get the files. Also, we need another favour.

Snark: If you do this one, I’ll give your suit an upgrade. Be here tomorrow at lunch.

Snark: Bring my scotch.

You scoffed. You knew helping them out would backfire, this was why you had avoided them for so long. You couldn’t afford to have anyone know you were The Phantom and The Avengers were likely to figure it out sooner rather than later.

Still... If they were asking for your help, it was probably important.

“What do you think Frank? Self preservation or desire to do good, which one’s gonna win out?” You asked.

A tail swish was his helpful response.

“Well you’re a cat, of course you’d advocate self preservation.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Hey Bucknasty, what do you think?” Sam called.

Bucky looked up and frowned, trying to figure out what Sam was talking about.

“Sam wants to ask Princess out, I think he should go for it.” Tony said gleefully.

“Why?” Sam asked suspiciously.

“She’ll eat you alive and leave your mangled corpse on the lawn for your feathered brethren to pick at.” Natasha explained with a smirk.

“How do you know that?” Bucky asked.

“She’s a maneater and a womanizer, think a pre Pepper Tony Stark with boobs...” Sam said, looking excited.

“She’s an infamous heartbreaker.” Natasha clarified.

Tony and Bruce exchanged a subtle look of amusement. Once upon a time, they’d believed those rumours as well. Now they knew you, they knew how untrue it all was. But your reputation was carefully cultivated so they didn’t correct anyone.

“I’m sure she’s not like that really, she seems sweet.” Steve interjected, chivalry demanding he defend your honour even though he didn’t know you.

“Well, one way to find out.” Sam announced.

“Tomorrow will be fun.” Tony said.

Bucky resisted the urge to storm away. For some reason he hated the idea of Sam asking you out. Maybe because despite their bickering he actually considered The Falcon a friend and didn't want to see you get your claws into him.

For someone he’d only met twice, you’d gotten under his skin. He was determined to take you down a few pegs and in the process, keep you from dating his friend.

The fact that he couldn’t stop the image of a droplet of water rolling between your breasts from replaying over and over in his mind didn’t factor into it at all.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

So, two questions. One) Do you like this story? It's not as good as Name Calling yet. Two) Who are your fave interactions with so far?

You can ask to be added to or removed from tags at any time folks, just comment or inbox :D @lifewandererblog @drdorkus @gravedollie666 @sadsoldat @bigplantdaddy @moodyruth @likes-to-smell-books @shirukitsune @inquisitor-selvala @brownle-22 @myfandomlife-blog @markusstraya @adeleoctobre @vajeenparty @sexyvixen7 @love-nakamura @buckitybarnes @littledeadrottinghood @pinkisokay @jsmith509 @brownlee-22 @angieptt @thosesexytexasboys @liveonce-sodoitright @tarastudiesalot @spnrvt @dahkness @dilaila95 @rororo06 @mizzzpink @fairislesheets @strangersstranger @life-wanderer @uuuuuuuuggggghhh

#Bucky x Reader #Bucky Smut #Bucky series #Bucky fic. Bucky Barnes #The Winter Soldier #Winter Soldier x Reader #Smutty Bucky #Dom Bucky #Hate Sex #Fuck Buddies #Slow Burn

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ohdeputy · 5 years ago

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100 Letters PART V

Arthur Morgan x John Marston

Words: 5,513

Read on Archive

Part IV

“John, John!”

John’s heart dropped when he heard his name being called and squeezed his eyes shut as he braced himself. After letting out a deep sigh, he opened them again and turned around to see Uncle approaching him.

“What do you want, Uncle.”

It had been another week or so without John leaving camp and he was slowly going crazy. He didn’t know if it was from feeling better and itching to leave or if his current company had finally made him crack.

“Oh, now don’t be like that! I actually had some information you might want to hear, considering you’ve just been sitting around since we got here!”

John couldn’t bear to listen to the old drunk. “Don’t talk to me about sitting around, old man. I know someone who’s quite good at that.”

“Hey, I do my fair share, like getting this information! So do you want it or not?”

John sighed, flatly responding, “what is it.”

“Well, see, Mary-Beth told me about this train,” Uncle shoved a map he seemed to materialize out of thin air into John’s hands. He carefully unfolded it, not sure where exactly Uncle had been storing it.

“I told Arthur about it but I’m not sure he was listenin’, you might convince him though. You two always did make a great team! It would be a good score, I’m tellin’ ya!”

John narrowed his eyes, “you just want the credit for it.”

“I just want to help out, is all!”

John sighed, looking down at the map. “I don’t know…”

“Don’t be so sour! Just think about it at least, jeez.”

“Fine.” John put the map away in his pocket, “I’ll think about it, but I’m not promising anything.”

Uncle wandered off while John thought for a moment longer. As much as he hated to admit it, it did seem like a good job. And with his lack of doing pretty much anything, he wasn’t in much of a position to be picky

So in the days that followed, John continued going over the map that Uncle gave him and trying to turn it into something feasible. Eventually, he started to believe that the idea had some potential. With something solid in mind, John was left with deciding who would accompany him to do the job.

His initial thought was Arthur, but he quickly pushed the idea out of his mind. He tried to convince himself that he didn’t need him, seeing as it probably wasn’t a good idea to get him involved.

He knew the job needed at least three people, so naturally Charles was his first choice. But as for a third, John had no idea who else he could bring. Javier would have suited the role, but when John asked him about it, the other man informed him that he was already preoccupied with a job of his own. Something about a farm robbery not far from where they stayed.

“Sorry compadre, you know I would run with you anytime.”

John assured Javier that it wasn’t a problem, though he was running out of options for other people he trusted well enough to partake in the heist. His mind wandered back to the one person he knew would be perfect. He cursed to himself, Arthur was the best suited to aid them. John knew it, and he couldn’t fool himself otherwise. Slowly accepting that, he concluded that he might just have to ask him.

John paced around the small area inside his tent, going back and forth in both his movements and his thoughts. If he was being honest with himself, he would prefer Arthur to take the lead for the train robbery, anyhow. He trusted the man could pull it off better than anyone else, including John, and would rather leave it in his hands.

Outside his tent, multiple voices could be heard, with Arthur’s mixed in between them. Thinking he might catch Arthur before he was absent from camp once more, he moved toward the opening of his tent. He didn’t want to give himself more time to think about the situation or back out of asking Arthur, so John quickly exited in search of where their conversation was taking place.

Upon leaving, he heard a commotion going on where the O’Driscoll boy they'd held captive was kept. Peering over toward the source of all the noise, John could make out Dutch, Bill, and Arthur surrounding the tied up man. John hadn’t really paid any attention to him until now, not even knowing his name. He avoided going near the O’Driscoll boy for the most part. Abigail had mentioned him a couple of times, saying she almost felt a little sorry for him. She had even admitted to giving him water when the weather had been particularly hot.

All John knew about him was that he was an O’Driscoll, a bit pathetic, and someone Dutch took pleasure in torturing. And as much as John didn’t want to admit it, the fellow kind of reminded him of himself. He thought of how Abigail seemed to have a soft spot for types like them, goddamn fools.

He watched the group as they harassed the O’Driscoll, John thinking that perhaps this wasn’t the best time to make himself known. Dutch motioned to Bill, who seemed all too pleased to oblige to whatever Dutch had proposed. Beside them, Arthur stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. It was clear he did not share the same enthusiasm as the others for whatever it was they were doing.

Only a moment later did Bill return with a pair of gelding tongs and a look in his eyes that showed he was enjoying this all a bit too much. Dutch proceeded to yank down the O’Driscoll’s trousers in humiliation then waved for Bill to come closer.

“You sick bastards!” The O’Driscoll yelled while struggling against his restraints.

Dutch paid his pleading no mind as Bill took his time inching ever so agonizingly slow toward him, snipping the tongs with every step he took. The O’Driscoll flinched each time, and even John could see him begin to tremble.

“Dutch,” Arthur rasped, wearing a frown, “do we really have to?”

Dutch didn’t even look as he responded, “patience, Arthur.” He had a glint in his eyes that made John shudder.

“Fine-FINE!” the O’Driscoll stammered out, his eyes tearing up. “I’ll tell you everything I know!”

Dutch laughed triumphantly, catching John’s eye as he did. Without breaking the stare he put a hand on the tongs Bill held out, lowering them.

“Awh, can’t we do it anyways, boss?”

“No,” Dutch spoke, a menacing smile pulling at his lips. “He has no sins to hide.”

John finally broke their eye contact, turning away from the group. He was aware of how fast his heart was beating in his chest as he tried to walk away from the scene, suddenly finding it hard to put one foot in front of the other. He could feel the sweat on his palms and rubbed them against his pants.

He retracted back to his tent in fear of meeting Dutch’s gaze again. The safety inside the canvas walls was short-lived when he heard a voice behind him.

“Enjoy the view, did you?”

John jumped, looking back to see Dutch standing at the entrance. Even though John was terrified of the man, he felt his cheeks grow hot from anger, angling himself away to avoid his stare.

When he didn’t answer, Dutch continued, “hmmm, I’m sure you loved to see that. Someone like you, that is.”

Still, John stayed silent. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of an argument but also scared of what might happen if he did respond.

Dutch gave his lack of response little mind, only continuing to prod at John further. “It’s a shame Nico isn’t here to protect you any longer.”

John flinched when he said her name, clenching his jaw.

“No worries though, the O’Driscoll can be your new best friend. His name’s Kieran, by the way. I’m sure you’ll get along jusssst fine.”

Dutch dropped his smile, “anyways, I want you to go with Arthur, Bill, and that O’Driscoll boy to Six Point cabin. There is word Colm could be close.” He paused for a moment, “oh, and I want you to be the one taking Kieran on the back of your horse.”

John whipped his head to Dutch, not able to stop himself. He thought about protesting before he met Dutch’s icy stare. It bore into him, yet he swore he could see an underlying amusement there, too. It was as if he were purposely trying to rouse John into disagreeing with him. So instead John stood up, grabbing his gun belt and coat in compliance.

Reaching the tent's entrance, Dutch’s voice made him falter for a moment longer. “Birds of a feather, John. Who knows? Perhaps the two of you will run away together.” His voice lowered to that of a sneered whisper, “though, this time maybe it would be best if you didn’t return.”

Figuring he’d heard about enough, John pushed through the tent’s opening and hurriedly made his way to where Arthur and Bill waited. He was interrupted when Abigail came out of nowhere and practically jumped in front of him.

“John-where are you going?”

“Out.” He tried to move past her, but she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I thought maybe you could take Jack fishing, the boy wants to see you, John.”

He shrugged her off, “no-just-leave it be, woman.”

She didn’t try to stop him the second time as he walked away from her. He didn’t look up as he mounted his horse, his movements a little stiff as he did so. He was more than ready to get out of there.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Wasting no time, John helped Kieran onto his horse and spurred Old Boy toward the direction he was told to go. The others followed closely behind as the O’Driscoll led them along the path toward Valentine.

“Take a left up here,” Kieran pointed at an overgrown path exiting into a densely wooded area. John slowed his horse as the terrain became less regular. He could make out Arthur riding up beside him, who looked over at John.

“You alright, Marston?”

“Fine,” he answered while keeping his eyes straight ahead.

The more distance John put between him and camp, the better he started to feel. It was nice to ride out together with the others and do something other than sitting around. He tried his best to push away his short interaction with Dutch. The things he’d said… John only just started to relax once his hands stopped shaking. He wanted to tell himself it was from anger but knew it was more than that.

Soon they made it to a clearing littered with tents and supplies, with a cabin at the far end. There was a smoldering fire with food and drink left out like it was only recently abandoned. Clothes hung on wires left to dry but even with everything going on there wasn’t a single person in sight. John sent Arthur a questioning look, to which the other man only shrugged.

“Whatchu expect, that we’d actually find Colm here?”

John squinted, suspicious as he scanned the clearing, “no, but I thought we’d at least run into some of his men.”

Arthur dismounted, everyone else following suit. “We should look around, maybe we can find some idea as to where he ran off to.” When Kieran didn’t move from his spot, Arthur gave him a stern look, “that includes you, O’Driscoll.”

Kieran nearly jumped out of his skin before scampering after Bill to search the site. John only shook his head and pulled his rifle out from Old Boy’s saddle, slinging it across his shoulder.

“Nice new horse, by the way.”

John turned around to see Arthur still stood there. “Thanks.”

The two of them walked together toward the clearing in awkward silence. John thought back to the train heist and asking Arthur about it. Now was the best time to say something. He fidgeted with the strap of his rifle.

“There’s this train-”

“About the other day-”

They both cut off what they were about to say, waiting for the other to continue until a bullet whizzed by their heads and the conversation became an afterthought, their heads snapping to the source.

Bill ran to where Arthur and John stood, throwing himself behind a tree for cover, “get behind something, it’s a damn ambush!”

John ducked behind a log, clenching his rifle in his hands. He looked up just in time to see Arthur find cover behind another tree and immediately start firing his revolver. O’Driscolls appeared out of the woods, surrounding them. They were outnumbered but John was quite confident in their odds seeing as the rival gang was up against at least two adept gunslingers.

John peered over the edge of the log, locking onto one of the men and quickly releasing his breath as he pulled the trigger. He moved onto his next target before the first even dropped to the floor.

“Cover me, I’m gunna get closer!” Arthur called out before moving from his tree to a couple of crates not far from where John knelt. As he did, John quickly reloaded and stood to shoot an O’Driscoll who had the same idea of advancing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another appear from behind an old tent to aim at Arthur. The man’s intention was short-lived as he dropped to the ground a moment later and John reloaded a couple of bullets.

Steadily, they picked off the opposition until a few stragglers were left, who chose to leave with their lives rather than face the same fate as the others.

“Whoooie! Look at ‘em run off!” Kieran called out as the last few just made it out of sight.

“You’re quick to change loyalties from the men you once fought alongside, O’Driscoll.” Arthur searched the pockets of a fallen enemy, shooting Kieran a look of judgment.

“I keep tellin’ y’all, I ain’t no O’Driscoll.”

Arthur didn’t say anything, but John could see he wasn’t convinced.

“Nice shooting there, Marston.”

John only nodded his head as he scanned the ground. He turned over a container in search of anything worth taking.

“You had mentioned something about a train before, uh, you know.”

John looked up, “oh, yeah. Well, Uncle told me something ‘bout a train that’s gunna be heading through Scarlet Meadows real soon. It’ll be at night, not too heavily guarded from what I hear. It’ll be good, plus-” John cut himself off. Plus it would give me a chance to start doing something, he thought to himself.

“Hmmm,” Arthur scratched his beard, looking doubtful.

John got up from where he knelt, “we’ve done it plenty of times, it’ll be good money.”

Arthur squinted in thought “Yeah but… stopping a train? Pain in the ass.”

John was prepared for Arthur’s hesitation, having spent a while going over the plan in his mind. He continued excitedly, “sure, but what if we could force a train to stop.”

Arthur gave a chuckle, sarcastically responding, “well, of course.”

Arthur knelt beside another body to loot, assuming the conversation to be over. But John persisted, moving closer to keep his attention. “I’m serious, look, we get a wagon, a wagon full of something flammable-say oil. Put it on the tracks,” Arthur stood, nodding his head slightly as he listened to John.

“Only two choices, they know they’ll either have to stop or die.” When John finished Arthur looked at him, unblinking.

“So?” John continued, “you in?”

Arthur gave a breath of laughter to which John furrowed his brow in confusion, “that is… kinda brilliant.”

Whatever John was expecting, it wasn’t that. He quickly avoided Arthur’s gaze, looking to the ground.

“Uh, for you that is.” Arthur cleared his throat, “you know, for someone who’s brain is half-eaten by wolves. But I think that’s the first time you came up with a decent plan!”

John rolled his eyes, “shut up.”

“No, I’m serious! How did you manage to end up MORE intelligent!?”

John waited for Arthur’s chuckling to die down, “so we doin’ it then?”

“Sure, sure. But were gunna need ammunition, guns, and probably some dynamite to crack open that train.” He listed the items off with his fingers. John nodded along, “I can get those from town if you focus on getting us an oil wagon, I can go there now assuming I’m not needed here anymore?”

“Sounds like a good plan, Marston,” Arthur smiled. “You sure you don’t want to head back with us?”

“Nah, I only just got out of camp. I’d like to enjoy the serenity of being away from it a little longer.”

Arthur gave a nod of understanding, “sure, I get it.”

“Alright then, I’ll catch up with you later.” John started walking back to his horse as Arthur tipped his hat in farewell. When John knew he was at a safe enough distance, he let himself smile. As much as he knew he shouldn’t let it mean anything, a little bubble of excitement swelled inside his chest.

He rode Old Boy into town and straight to the gunsmith, picking up the necessary equipment to get the job done. He made sure not to forget the dynamite before leaving, too, as it would be crucial to their plan. After thanking the owner and heading back outside, he noticed that it had started to rain.

By the time John made it to the end of the street the rain turned from a light drizzle to what looked like buckets coming down. He made it to the hotel and ducked inside, shaking himself off a bit. Thunder rumbled in the distance, making John reconsider travelling back to camp.

“Can I help you, sir?”

John turned around to see a young woman stood behind the front desk of the hotel. He gave her a smile and a nod, “as a matter of fact, do you have any rooms available? I’ll take anything you got!”

The woman returned the smile, “why, of course! I’ll show you to your room, it’s just upstairs.”

John entered the room, making sure to thank the lady as he did. He looked around the room, it was quaint and small and not at all what he was used to. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept in a proper bed, waking the next day with an energy he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He spared no time in making the trek out to the train tracks near Dewberry Creek. It was located some ways past camp, but John thought it was worth scouting out the area, so he headed southeast out of Valentine. He passed the opposite side of Citadel Rock into the open plains. The sun was high in the sky without a cloud in sight, the rain from the day prior long gone. He breathed in, thankful for the warmth of the sun with the cool wind in the air. It was perfect.

By the time he arrived and studied the spot, the sun was hanging considerably lower. John aimed to find the best spot to ambush the train, eventually finding a dense cluster of trees just beside the tracks. When John was satisfied that this location was suitable enough, he began riding for camp. He was eager to return, wondering if he might go over more details with Arthur.

Upon his arrival back, John could smell the scent of stew being passed around for dinner. He quickly hitched Old Boy, not realizing until that moment how hungry he was. The usual bustle surrounded the stew pot as people grabbed a bowl and sat together around tables and tents. John strained to see if Arthur was amongst any of them, disappointed when he thought he spotted his blonde hair only to reveal Micah. He couldn’t help his face from twisting in disgust, disappointed to know of his arrival back.

“Looking for someone, brother?”

Charles approached John with two bowls of stew in hand, offering one to John. He took it gratefully.

“Yeah, have you seen Arthur around?”

Charles shook his head, moving to sit near one of the campfires. John followed, sitting across from him. He was thankful it was just the two of them.

“He left early this morning. Did you need help with something?”

John couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that Arthur was gone once again. He tried not to let it get to him, pushing it deep in his mind.

“Actually, Arthur and I are doing a train heist and I’ve been meaning to ask if you’ll join us, too. We could use someone like you, Charles.”

“Sure, anytime.”

John smiled down at his stew, taking another bite.

“You seem surprised.”

John looked back up at Charles, “I suppose I am. You never hesitate to offer your help.”

“Only with those I find worth offering that help to. For you, it’s an honor. As honourable as you can be amongst thieves, that is.”

John raised his eyebrows. He was not expecting such high praise from someone like Charles, who he thought was better than any man he knew combined.

Charles continued, “it’s hard to find good people, and I mean wholeheartedly good people, John. I see it in Arthur, even though he doesn’t see it in himself… I saw it in Nico.” Charles looked up at John, “she always did try to look out for those she cared about.”

He paused, then gave a slight chuckle, “I see it in you, too. Though I have to admit it took me a little while to fully understand you.”

John let out a snort of laughter at Charles’ words. A moment later, the smile faded from his lips. “Can I ask you something, Charles?”

When Charles nodded, he continued. “Why did you join us? Why did you follow Dutch?”

Charles steadily set his bowl down on the ground, then sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I ran on my own for a long time. I did fine, too, but it makes life more difficult. The world is a lot crueler when you’re alone in it. I spent most nights worrying that someone might kill me in my sleep. Running with Dutch, well. Dutch is different. He treats me fair, he doesn’t see me for what others hold against me. Most of you don’t, so here I am.”

John nodded, swallowing dryly, “I see.”

He sat with Charles a while longer before departing for the night. He lay staring at his tent ceiling for what felt like hours. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Charles had said about Dutch. It was disconcerting. To be reminded of how deeply rooted people's faith in Dutch was. He wondered how someone like Charles could see such morality in John. And Arthur and Nico. Yet, he also trusted in Dutch. It made John feel sick, knowing the deceit that lay there instead.

He’d spent so much of his childhood seeking Dutch’s approval, to be praised by him. And what for? So he could fall in line with the others to be blindly shepherded along like lambs to the slaughter? Still, a part of him yearned for that validation. It was twisted, and cruel to subject himself to the thought, but it was present nonetheless. No matter how much he might deny it.

The following day there was no sign of Arthur. John didn’t expect to see him return so soon, but he had held onto the slightest hope that he might’ve been proved wrong. When one day turned into two, and two days turned into a week, John became anxious that Arthur wouldn’t come back soon enough.

John mostly preoccupied himself by going over the plan. He talked with Charles, too, which helped ease his mind slightly. After a few more days passed and there was still no word from their third party member, John started to grow a little annoyed considering the train was due in three days' time.

On the morning of the heist, John was pissed. The previous day, he ended up taking matters in his own hands by securing an oil wagon by himself as he felt he couldn’t trust Arthur in appearing out of thin air to say he found one.

John sat at his usual spot under the oak tree. He held a cigarette in one hand and the map Uncle gave him in the other. He looked over the marked X where the train tracks crossed over the road like he had countless times before. He had gone over the plan again and again in his mind, determined to do it right when the time came.

He brought the cigarette up to his lips, thinking of how little his efforts were met by Arthur. He blamed himself for thinking they could do this. It was too good to be true, John knew that now. He just wished he didn’t try to trick himself into believing otherwise so that he would’ve saved himself the trouble of trying. That, and the sinking feeling he had since coming back from Valentine.

He folded the map up and stuffed it in his pocket, not paying attention to it anyways. He was angry with himself that he was so upset over the whole situation. He didn’t know what he expected to get out of it all. To try to be closer to Arthur? Physically, since emotionally was never an option. In all the past eight years that idea had never gone well. So John didn’t understand why he thought that could change.

John could hear indistinct conversation coming from the edge of camp, which he paid little mind in his deep thought. That was until he heard what he thought was Arthur’s voice reply. John’s head snapped up, thinking his ears may have deceived him. To his bewilderment, there Arthur stood in the flesh.

John took a long drag from his cigarette while he watched Arthur hitch his horse. As if he felt his eyes on him, Arthur turned his head toward him. John quickly looked away, scowling as he did. He heard his footsteps approach but still refused to look up when they stopped in front of him.

“Hey-”

“You never got us that oil wagon, did you.” John finally did look up at him, flicking the cigarette away after blowing out his last breath.

It took a second for Arthur to register what he said, “Ah, I’m sorry,” he gave a little chuckle. “I clean forgot.”

“Are you? Sorry?” John shook his head, “nevermind.” He stood, “it’s taken care of, anyways.”

He moved to walk past Arthur, “otherwise we’d miss that train.”

Arthur took the few steps with him, opening his mouth like he was going to say something then closing it. John stopped to turn to him again, “are you still interested in the job? Cause if not I’m sure I can-”

“I am.”

John nodded, “okay then. Well, good.”

When neither of them said anything further, John continued on his way.

“Er, Marston-”

John faced him again but didn’t say anything. Arthur continued, “thanks… for getting it, by the way.”

John stared at him without saying anything, he blinked and without thinking blurted, “maybe we shouldn’t do this job together.”

It was a joke to have thought he could work jobs with Arthur again. He thought perhaps things were good enough between them that they might be civil. But the tension was there already, and it would only continue to build. The two didn’t work well together anymore. John’s heart dropped at its realization and from the look of surprise on Arthur’s face.

“You take it. Get Charles and Sean or someone to go with you. You don’t have to give me a cut, either.”

“What, why? Is this because I didn’t get the damn oil wagon?”

John winced at that, “No. It wasn’t. But it was your job to get it.” He felt his frustration rise, like a fuse that had been waiting to be lit upon Arthur’s arrival.

“You know, I’ve been pretty busy running all over the damn state. Perhaps you should’ve gotten it in the first place, seeing as you’re not preoccupied by much these days.”

John scoffed, “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I shouldn’t be surprised. Since when does John Marston finish anything he’s started. Maybe I will take Sean with me, seeing as he’ll be a good replacement for your incompetence to see things through!”

John raised his hands in frustration, “I’m not talking to you like this, Morgan.”

Arthur laughed dryly, “go on then, run away like you always do when you can’t handle it.”

John gave a look of disbelief, “are you joking? Can’t handle it? You’re the one who didn’t bother getting the damn oil wagon! I actually want this job, believe it or not!”

“Yeah? Well what’s it like being disappointed?”

Their yelling immediately ceased, the air growing quiet like the silence that follows the crack of a whip.

John blinked, “what?”

Arthur hesitated for a second before his features hardened, “maybe you’re right. Maybe we shouldn’t work together on this.”

Not waiting for a response, Arthur turned and walked away, leaving John behind in the quiet aftermath of their argument. Alone and with nothing but a boiling anger that grew inside him, John turned too, stomping off toward the direction of his tent.

Without stopping, he grabbed his coat and left again. He found Old Boy and mounted the horse, steering him out of camp. Spurring to go faster, he flew through the countryside. John didn’t know where he was going but knew he just needed to get away for a while. He didn’t slow his pace until he came up to the river. He didn’t recognize this part of the winding waters, making him realize just how far he’d gone. But he didn’t care.

He slowed Old Boy and launched himself off and paced on the sands of the river a moment. He wanted to scream from frustration, yell at the top of his lungs. Looking down, he picked up a rock and threw it into the water. Then he picked up another and did the same, repeating himself again and again. When he got tired of throwing rocks, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. He paused for a moment, feeling the map. His fingers curled around it, then yanked it out. Without hesitating he ripped it apart and hurled it with all his might.

For all his force, the pieces merely fluttered around him, getting caught in the wind. They lingered briefly before a breeze swept by and took them away. John watched them go, and suddenly he was on the ground with tears streaming down his face. He didn’t know where it came from, but he couldn’t stop now that he started crying. The sand was cold and damp yet he continued to sit there, unable to move.

He wished he didn’t rip up the map, he wished he could put the pieces back together.

No. that wasn’t it. He wished Nico wasn’t dead. He wished what he and Arthur had wasn’t dead. He wished he didn’t fuck up every relationship he ever had. He treated Abigail poorly, and could barely look at Jack. John didn’t know how they all deserved to have someone as flawed as him. He thought he could move on, but it seemed he would be dealing with the repercussions of his actions for the rest of his life.

John held his head in his hands, gazing into the churning rapids of the river. He wondered when things got so out of control. It felt like just yesterday when he and Arthur were still kids doing nothing but spending their days never apart. Now John was so much older and alone, growing into someone he never wanted to be.

Night fell over the sky making the crickets song come to life and the stars flicker up above. John didn’t realize how long he had sat there until the evening had come and went. Wiping his cheeks with the sleeves of his coat, he eventually stood. His bones ached once he got up, stiff from sitting for so long.

Old Boy grazed not far from the river, looking up when John walked over. He gave the horse a few pats, “sorry, boy. Let’s get you home.”

John retraced his way back to camp, this time much slower than before. He tried to collect himself along the way, finding it to be pointless as his heart was still heavy. He waved to Bill as he crossed over the border into camp, quietly hitching his horse and retreating to his tent. He took off his coat and crawled into bed, his last thought wishing the day had never happened.

#red dead fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #red dead redemption fanfic #john marston x arthur morgan #Arthur/John #arthur morgan/john marston #i know like nobody reads it here on tumblr but i thought i'd post it here anyways...#its even worse because tumblr took away the option to add the 'keep reading' break so thats great #nevertheless here ya go #if you're reading this and enjoying the story consider dropping by my archive and giving the fic a kudos! it would mean a lot :)#morston

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judgement-free-sideblog · 5 years ago

Text

The enemy of love is the truth

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader

Summary: They were happy just as friends, but one morning the call from an old trauma may change everything.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, history of drug use, mental health issues, cursing, angst.

This one is extremely long but I love the final result, the next chapter will be the end, thank for reading, comments are more than welcome.

■Part I ■ Part II ■Part III ■ Part IV ■ Part V ■ Part VI■ Part VII ■ Part VIII | Final ■

Part V

"And you didn't kiss, again?" Zawe said, she took a sip from her wine glass and take her hand to her forehead with exasperation. "This has been going on forever now, I'm done, Caroline you take care now"

"Don't look at me, I basically push them together what else can I do? Lock them inside my office? Trust me I have thought about it." The other woman said.

"Excuse me, I'm still here and I can hear you" Y/N said questioning why did she agree to have lunch with them in the first place, however she had chose to only tell them about the invitation to an ex's wedding and the late tea at Tom's flat and not a single thing else "And what does again is supposed to mean?"

"New year two years ago" Caroline started "I was dating that gorgeous Greek guy with the most beautiful abs I have ever seen, and everyone kissed at midnight, and what did you do? You leave the dance floor to go vomit in my bathroom"

"Oysters and champagne don't mix" Y/N said getting red remembering the night "And Stavros was only kind of hot" she add making Caroline sigh with pretend indignation.

"What about january last year?" Zawe continued "Bobby was sick and he was on call for his last movie, and you take a week off to stay at his place to help him out"

"First of all I love that dog, and I did that for him more than for Tom, and second I didn't stayed at his place" She answered knowing pretty well she was lying "I only get there super early and went out late at night, but I would have done that for you guys too"

They continued laughing and talking about nothing in particular, with the subject coming up time to time, they meant well and Y/N knew it, even if they didn't knew the whole story.

"Being honest he is as guilty as you are" Caroline said signaling the waiter to get the check. "Last year on November you were at that gynecology symposium on Madrid, and he acted like he was losing his mind until he got in to a plane to met you there, and what brilliant excuse did he give you? He said he needed a flu shot and don't trust his doctor here, also all those times he had crashed at your apartment are total bullshit I was with him the other night and he didn't have a single drop, and I'm getting tired of helping him pretend he does"

"Oh please stop it already" they were walking towards Zawe's car and she was as amused to find the truth about that obvious lie as she was exasperated by her friends "You are right ok? at least on my side. I have been childish about all of this. But if I'm honest I don't know what could I do? In the end I'm still a general practitioner from a tiny hospital and he is Tom Hiddleston"

"Well darling, he could be the sound engineer of the theater or the Prime Minister himself" Said Zawe once they were inside the car "He still is crazy about you. What you have to do is take the leap, talk about it like adults, go to the bloody wedding and enjoy yourself without thinking of anyone else"

"And for once don't run away like a scared chicken when things get personal" Caroline said happy that she finally was able to acknowledge her feelings.

"Sure... why not? By the way I been meaning to tell you something..."

The conversation fade away in other topics, a few more relevant than others, but Y/N mind was far away in the past thinking of the last time she risked all for him and how tremendously wrong it all have turn out.

They had agree he will pick her up at her place, after the most demanding shift she ever had, she took a quick shower and put on a flowy dress, and her coat, and in an effort to look more decent a pair of earrings.

She was trying desperately to make her makeup work when an alarm went off in her phone, a reminder to make a call and before she could think it trough she was already listening the dial tone, praying for him to don't pick up.

"Hi there" his voice finally said when she was about to hang up "so glad to hear you. It's everything alright?"

"Completely, how about you? Did you change your job as you wanted?" She said, now trapped in the conversation.

"I did, and them I changed it again, that's why you should call people more than once a year, otherwise you never know the full story. What's new with you?"

"I start working part time at a theater, as a personal doctor for the manager" she said getting close to what she wanted to say to him.

"Oh that's great, have you met someone interesting there? Are you dating some gorgeous Shakespearean actor... actress??" He still knew her well enough to make things easy for her to talk about.

"I do, in fact I have a date... soon, it's that ok?" She said the last a bit doubtful, she didn't want to hurt him again.

"That's amazing Y/N" David said sincerely "And relax, is not me who you should be worried about, I want you to be happy, just don't go sabotaging things like you use to. I love you girl, but if I'm honest I think you chose to be miserable even when other people try their best to make you happy"

They talked for another couple minutes and when she finally said goodbye his words kept resonating in her mind, but he was wrong, it was not sabotaging, it was self preservation, like this stupid idea of a date. She was quite sure he was trying to make her feel less ashamed for her drunken advances on him, a nice dinner, some talking so she could go on with her life thinking "It simply didn't work, but he is such a nice man"

And she hated herself for ending up in such pathetic position, thinking of how much fun tom must have had watching her making a fool of herself. She was determined then to call off the date, make a graceful scape before she could embarrassing herself but before she could called him there was a ring at her door.

He was gorgeous of course, his beard as well maintained as always and his hair combed to de back of his head in beautiful waves that she wanted to touch since the first time she saw him. He was wearing a coat over a simple dark grey shirt and jeans.

He smiled fondly at her when he saw her, there were dark circles under her eyes and he thought they looked beautiful, something refreshing about a woman who worked that hard on something that she loved.

Y/N intrigued him, she seemed to live like a mature functioning adult, but there was a childish sparkle in her eyes when she started to talk that made him want to know more about her, but then that ever present hint of sadness always refraining her to talk to much, all of which made her the most interesting puzzle.

"Something in mind you would like to eat?" He asked once they were inside his car, with his tinted windows up, he liked driving alone, but he liked his privacy more and they have proven to be an effective solution.

"Not really, anywhere you pick will be fine" she said smiling and he drove to a nice restaurant, making small talk about work, their mutual friends and the weather.

Once they arrived the valet took his keys and gave her what he thought was a meaningful almost impertinent smile.

"I really need to apologize for my behavior" She started once their food was ordered and the waiter had served them two big glasses of wine "It was inappropriate for me to act like that. I am deeply sorry"

"Don't be, we were all a little drunk. But it was nice talking to you" they ate in silence, other than, what she felt, empty mutual compliments on each others carreras. Proving what she had fear since the night before. Until he finally spoke again "I've been meaning to ask you, did you enjoy the play?"

"Absolutely, Mister Cox and Miss Ashton are outstanding, and you obviously it's an incredible play, all things considered" she said taken aback by the question and cursing herself for the last part.

"What things considered?" He asked now genuinely intrigued.

"Oh I'm sorry, I misspoke, it's something stupid actually" she said nervously trying to avoid his gaze and failing.

"Come on, I'm a big boy, I can take some criticism" he lean back on his chair and open his arms, as if he waited for a punch, his eyes still fix on Y/N.

"Ok, but do notice this is coming from Y/N the feminist doctor who spend her free time protesting and not Y/N the fan of theater and literature." She said finally looking back at him decided "I think somehow it demonizes Emma's betrayal and eventual "punishment" while it glorifies the male ego of the two men. And also Robert Down is a prick"

He opened his mouth slightly surprised and then closed his lips in a thin line and let go a chuckle, with a mild blush crossing his face.

"Auch" He said finally, "Well it's and old play... and he amm of course is not a good person, I guess if you are not familiarized with Pinter's work you may have that kind of conclusion"

He had trouble finding his words to debate her, although he was impressed with her honesty, but since it was a sensible matter he wanted to be clear, however Y/N interpreted as him trying to dismiss her statement and change the subject, which put her one step closer to anger.

"You really are that nice aren't you?" She started, with her voice cold and sharp "And I don't mean it as a compliment, but you are right. I don't know Harold Pinter's work but I do know he is factually wrong, there's no deep intricate meaning behind betrayal, in the end is quite simple, people can't make the choice of remaining truthful either to themselves or the people who they love without being bitches about it. You like to shag around no strings attached fine do that don't complain is it doesn't feel like a home, you want a successful marriage fine forget about any other bloody temptation and be decent. But I guess in the end lies are what keeps people together. Once the truth is out, love dies and so the relationship" he was astonished, however the passion in her voice made him answered to her in a similar tone, changing completely the direction he had imagine for the evening.

"Don't be absurd, that would imply people need to systematically lie in order to keep their relationships, if anything the play is a critique on those precise actions, while normal people try to have loving relationships in honesty, even when sometimes is easier to say a lie. And there's a complete difference between lying to save your arse and conceal your dishonesty, and lying to be socially functional"

"So you never lie?" She asked now completely furious of what she felt was hypocrisy.

"Everybody lies, that's the point, there is a difference in being oblivious on other people's feelings imposing your wrong personal opinions and pretend that's some moral high honesty, and being polite enough to avoid subjects that may hurt others" He said now crossing her arms, pleased with her momentary silence until she start to look for something in her purse trying to hide the hurt in her face.

"Exactly" She said finally putting a couple £50 notes on the table and looking at him with anger in her eyes "Like asking stupid women out so they don't feel like total idiots for hitting on you while they were drunk? That kind of politeness?"

"What?" He said flabbergasted finally rising his voice "That's why you think I asked you out?"

"Oh don't patronize me!" She said also rising her voice and standing up "It must've been so funny, asking a girl who is obsessed with you on a date, what amazingly beautiful act of chivalry. You know what you are? You are an entitled selfish bastard, who gets off on the world worshiping him." She took her purse of the table and put her coat back on, and before leaving she add "And men can't be feminist, you would know that if you read a book on feminist theory instead the glorified misogynistic bastards you adore"

She quickly move away from the table leaving a perplex Tom behind, but before she could exit the restaurant he started following her, reaching her just a couple meters from the valet parking station next to the restauran small planters.

"Oh this is very mature of you" he called her "You owe me an explanation"

"I don't owe you shit" He was close enough so he catch her by her wrist.

"Or at least let me take you home" he said turning her around, she rise her other hand and he prepared his right cheek for what he anticipated will be a slap, but something caught her eye and instead and she took her hand to her ear and to his surprise she change her voice to a high pitch whining, causing him to let her go.

"Oh whe is it? Where did I leave it? It must have fallen here" she started looking for something in the planters and kneeling near the fence.

"Are you having a stroke?" He asked getting down to her level "what are you looking for?"

"There's a guy with a camera hiding behind a car two meters from you" she said rapidly in a whisper, she quickly put one of her earrings in his hand and said: "Follow my lead, don't look back. Stand up now"

He did as she told him and they stand up, he was still holding the earring in his hand when she took it smiling wide, and putting it back on, and then for his surprise hugging him.

"Smile, get back inside, go to the bar, order a drink and then come back and ask for your car" she said using the proximity to whisper in his ear.

"Why?" He asked and the breaking the contact.

"Just trust me" she said between her teeth and smiling again. He returned the smile and nodded, going back in completely clueless of what was happening, in inside corner of his eye he could see the man with the camera.

He order a glass of wine, but he barely even touch it, the ten minutes he waited felt like eternity and finally he exited the place again. He give the ticket to the valet. The young man went for it immediately and he couldn't help to feel observed. When his car finally arrived and he tried to tip him the guy simply said "it's taken care of, drive safe" He nodded and get in his car not surprised to see Y/N already in the passenger seat.

He drove off and once they were a couple blocks away they looked at each other, and before anyone could talk they started laughing hysterically but it also felt cathartic.

"Care to explain what happened love?" He asked now back to his normal tone "Did you break into my car?"

"Of course not, Philip amm... the valet guy, he works half time as a medical assistant in my hospital. A couple weeks ago he told me that sometimes the waiters of that restaurant call the papers to get scoops on celebrities, and I assumed you didn't want my stupid tantrum in the first page tomorrow"

"Well no, but at least I'm glad you admit it was a tantrum. Can I know what happened?"

"Oh, the guy with the camera come asking me why you were chasing after me, I told him I made a scene in the restaurant because I couldn't find my late grandmother earrings and this handsome" She said exaggerating an innocent voice "who I didn't catch his name, help me found it, then I texted Philip to let me get inside your car, because I supposed he will be waiting for you to come out"

"That's amazing and clever" he said genuinely impressed by her story "But I meant at the restaurant"

"Oh... I had a terrible day, and I leashed out on you" she said turning red. "I am really sorry, you are not an entitled bastard, and everything I said... it was just out of place. I completely respect your acting, and I shouldn't have expressed myself that way" she apologized for all the things she have said without him interrupting her while he drive back to her place.

"Don't worry about it" he said finally smiling at Y/N again with the most candid smile he had given her yet "I'm sure other people have called me worst, just not to my face, and I do appreciate your honesty. Just one thing." He said parking the car at her door. "That's not why I asked out, and I apologize because I didn't make my intentions clear in the beginning. Nevertheless this was a fun experience"

"Said that again" she said without thinking.

"This was really fun I actually enjoyed your company..."

"No, that word 'nevertheless' sounds way more powerful when you say it."

"Nevertheless?" He said getting out of the car.

"Yeah, I actually have a tattoo that says nevertheless she persisted" she started playing with her keys in her doorway, looking pleased by the interest he show on that detail.

"You do go out protesting huh?" He said taking one step closer.

"I do, and I'm really sorry again" she said looking away and finally putting the keys in the lock.

"And again it's nothing really, so now... am I'll guess..."

"I'll see you around" she said, he kissed her on the cheek and she entered her flat, wishing to forget everything about that day.

By the time she was back at the theater next day, she was hoping to leave all behind, but everyone seemed to be obsessed with Tom's random act of kindness to a stranger that thank goodness the camera hadn't focused well.

She chose to hide inside her office the rest of the night until by the time she assumed everyone will be leaving someone knocked on her door, she opened thinking Caroline may be needing something, but she was surprised when she saw Tom standing there.

"Today it's my birthday, and we are going to celebrate, would you like to come by? I can't help to remind how you called Charlie and Zawe mister and miss, and I think they would like you" he said passing his fingers trough his hair distractedly.

"I know, yeah I would love too" She said immediately "But first, please come in, I... um... I actually got you something, it's a birthday present and also a peace offering for the way I acted yesterday" She went to her desk with him following behind her. She took something from the drawer "You are an amazing Robert, and I know you like to research your characters, I mean you probably have read this already but I thought you might like it" she give him a neatly wrapped brown package with a nice blue ribbon on top.

He opened unceremoniously with a child like expressions, touched by her gesture. And he opened his mouth in excitement and disbelief when he saw the book inside.

The Wild Swans at Coole. Other Verses and a Play in Verse. YEATS, W. B.

"Is this a...?"

"A signed original edition, yes." She said happy "I assume you have many of this but I couldn't think of anything else to give you"

"It's perfect actually" he said already carefully opening the book "This is too much, thank you"

"Your welcome" she took her purse and stand up ready to leave. "So where are we going?"

"Right right" He said standing up too. "You are gonna love this guys".

That had been the end of their would be romance and also the beginning of their friendship, but while Y/N tried on one of the multiple dresses Zewe had chosen for her the idea of trying again started to look less and less crazy, her plan was already in motion, she only hoped now that he would feel the same, and even more important than that, she prayed she wouldn't loose him in case he didn't.

#tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston #zawe ashton #charlie cox #robert and emma betrayal #betrayal #harold pinter #angst #romance #friendship #bobby hiddleston #tom hiddleston fandom #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston fluff

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geewithluv · 5 years ago

Text

ESOTERIC [two]

ESOTERIC: intended for or likely to be understood by only a small number of people with a specialized knowledge or interest.

The ins and outs of the prominent gang, Bangtan, can seem esoteric to the general population that is most affected by their actions.

Ｓｙｎｏｐｓｉｓ： ❝ Jimin is going to take over Bangtan after Hitman falls ill. Not feeling confident that Jimin is ready, Hitman pulls in the pacifistic daughter of a (now deceased) close associate. Kit hasn’t been around Bangtan for years, but now she’s forced to in order to help the remaining members of her family. ❞

Ｐａｉｒｉｎｇ：Jimin x Female OC (ft. the rest of BTS, Bang PD, members of Seventeen & BlackPink)

Ｇｅｎｒｅ：mafia!au, some fluff & some angst

Ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ： cursing, death from illness, mentions of death by gun violence, anxiety attack

ＷｏｒｄＣｏｕｎｔ：4k

ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ [part one]

Kit woke up later than she would have preferred. As much as she tried to keep her sleep schedule consistent no matter when she was working, her body always seemed to betray her wishes for a stable sleep cycle. With a yawn, she stumbled into her kitchen, turning the TV on as she passed it. “I could’ve sworn I bought more tea.” Kit grumbled to herself as she glared at the empty glass jar that should contain packets of teabags. But not a single packet sat in that jar, not even the tea she had disliked but kept around for when she had seemingly forgotten her addiction-esque need for the beverage.

“Late last night popular restaurant, Ossu Seiromushi, went up in flames and the local fire department is still trying to contain the situation. The cause is currently unknown. Please be sure to avoid 4th street during your morning commute as it will be blocked off while firefighters attempt to control the blaze.”

Kit hated the morning news anchors voice but this time she let herself drown in the soundwaves coming from her television. She rubbed any remaining sleep from her eyes to look at the video playing and the headline written in the bold black text at the bottom of the screen. “Holy shit.” She whispered as she realized she wasn’t dreaming. The restaurant is burning to the ground. Bangtan’s restaurant. Who knew what else was in there besides food and very expensive cutlery?

“There’s at least a 5 grand in cash currently taking its final form as a pile of ashes on the damn floor! That’s not even mentioning all the other shit that’s gone because of this! I don’t know if I should hope everything in there is completely burned beyond recognition because the last thing we need is a federal investigation.” Jimin paced around the spacious office in the Bangtan estate. It’s not even 7:30 A.M. and they’re already being reminded that they’re sustained by crime. Taehyung holds the firm belief that it’s much more of a 10 A.M. reminder.

“Who the hell set Ossu Seiromushi on fire?” Yoongi was hardly awake, trying not to completely slump over in the cushioned armchair.

Namjoon speaks up. “No one knows if it was even set on fire or if it just--”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” Jimin is quick to cut him off. “We all know a fully up-to-code and functional restaurant doesn’t just start randomly burning to the ground at 2 A.M..” The shrill sound of his cell phone ringing makes Jimin groan as he presses the green button. “What is it?”

“I know it’s 7 in the morning, but would it kill you to sound a little more pleasant?” Kit’s voice came through the other line as Jimin sits down in the leather chair behind the large custom wooden desk. “What the hell is going on at the restaurant?” Kit continued realizing Jimin wasn’t going to answer her remark.

“You tell me. Seokjin, Jungkook, and Hoseok are there now waiting for an answer.” Jimin glides his hand across the sleek surface as Yoongi, Taehyung, and Namjoon watch him intently. “You’re only a few blocks over aren’t you? You didn’t hear or see anything?”

“A few blocks is pretty far, Jimin.” Kit scoffed. “And I didn’t because I was sound asleep at 2 A.M.. Some of us have actual jobs that require us to have a schedule and--”

“Save your 8 to 10 hours and circadian rhythm rant. I’m coming over.” Jimin stood up, making the three other men jump up as Jimin yanked open a desk drawer, grabbing a few things and shoving them in various pockets.

“You absolutely are not! What makes you think that you can just come over whenever you feel like it?” Kit huffed, Jimin smirked imagining her practically stomping around her apartment trying to put things away and ‘clean up’ for him despite her apartment being cleaner than any private residence he had ever been to.

“The fact that you’re a few blocks away from where I need to be right now, the fact that I won’t take no for an answer and the overwhelming fact that you only pretend to be annoyed when I invite myself over.” Jimin grabbed his car keys as he left the office. “You guys stay here, wait for the others to give word. If anything happens, call me. ASAP.” Jimin pointed at the three men who were silently hoping he stayed a little longer so they could hear more of his conversation with Kit. How often did he go over to see her anyway? Nevertheless, the slam of the front door shutting, meant they weren’t going to get any more information.

“Think they’re fucking?” Yoongi crossed his arms before slumping back in the armchair, he runs his fingers through bleach blonde strands of hair falling into his heavy eyes.

“Kit? Having casual sex? Didn’t think you were a comedian.” Taehyung laughed.

“Maybe it’s not so casual.” Namjoon suggested with a shrug, sitting across from Yoongi.

“You think Jimin’s going to commit to one pussy?” Yoongi moved one of his rings around his finger, a pathetic attempt to stay distracted from sleep calling his name.

“Maybe, he’s gotta mature if he’s going to run this thing.” Namjoon was correct but no one would admit that it would eventually become time for Jimin to really commit to leading, and that meant he needed to think more about everything he did. Every decision could be life or death for over a dozen people.

No one wanted to think about that.

“You’re obviously sleep deprived.” Taehyung snickered.

Kit and Jimin stand in her bedroom looking out the window. They were able to see smoke rising just off in the distance.

“How much do you think you guys lost?” She asked after a few minutes of standing in silence.

“We. You’re in this thing too, even if you refuse to say it aloud.” He glanced over at her quickly before he cleared his throat. “In dollars, we’ve lost 10 grand at the very least. Probably much more. A new shipment just came in.”

“Is Jin okay? I know he really loved it. Front for deals or not. It was still a working restaurant.” Jimin nearly winced, she was too nice. He worried about it being a downfall. He also winced as he realized that he had not even thought to ask Jin how he felt.

“He’ll get over it. He can’t afford to dwell. None of us can. We found out who did it, we make them pay, we move on.” He stated simply. Kit turned on her heel to face him. “Don’t look at me like that.” Jimin sighed.

“Like what? Like I don’t want anyone to get hurt?” Her dark eyebrows furrowed.

“Don’t look at me like you think you can stop me from doing what I have to do. Don’t look at me like you think I’m better than this.”

“You are better than this, though. You don’t have to hurt anyone.”

“How can you think the world is so simple, kitten?” Jimin turned to face her. “You’re so…” he trailed off, thinking for a moment as a hundred words to describe her flood his brain and threaten to pour out his mouth, “optimistic.”

“Maybe you’re just a pessimist.”

A flicker of a smile as he looks into her eyes. “Maybe.” He let out a deep breath. “I don’t know how the hell you’re going to handle this shit. This is light work.”

“I can handle a whole lot more than you’d think.” Kit looked at the ground, her hair falling into her face. There’s an implication that doesn’t get to be addressed as the ding of Jimin’s phone fills the otherwise silent room.

“I need to get back, you coming?”

“You know I don’t like--” Kit cuts herself off, something in my mind tells her to go against the usual. “Yeah. I’ll come.” She said. Jimin raised an eyebrow in surprise as she grabbed a pair of shoes.

Kit finds the meetings to be more than boring. They’re worse than the ones at the hospital when the protocol changes. So, instead, she finds something else to do. Usually opting to clean up around the large home since the guys won’t do it themselves and had apparently had a recent bad experience with a cleaning crew. So they’ve settled for hardly cleaning.

She hummed softly to herself as she passed the master bedroom, well, almost passed it. She had become used to passing it and hearing the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the IV drips.

Nothing.

Complete and utter silence as she walked by except for her own mindless humming. She felt a sinking feeling, the same one that made her stop working the ICU and Trauma floors at the hospital. The feeling of knowing that it’s over. She knows, she knows before she actually knows, before she opened the door and stood in the room and looked at the heart monitor that had been unplugged by the man who wanted to spend his final moments in silence. She couldn’t blame him, who would want to die having to hear their heart slow to a stop.

She knew he was dead before she saw all these things. She had known it was coming. Everyone knew it was coming. She didn’t even like the man all that much. She had blamed him for years for the way her life had played out. But she still found herself on the floor and a scream leaving her body because it’s the only sound she could make before her face became drenched in wet sadness.

“Kit! Kit!” Her name is being called throughout the house as 7 men fear for the girl’s safety only to realize that she might be the safest she’s ever been. On the ground gasping for air as she sobs. Namjoon is the first one in the room before he calls out to the others. He knows there’s nothing to be done so he moves to Kit, grabbing her by her waist and pulling her up and out of the room as 6 other people run in.

“He’s dead!” She shrieked, thrashing around in the tall man’s arms as he takes her into the front of the house, nearly tossing her onto the sofa.

Jungkook and Hoseok don’t even enter the room, opting to stay in the doorway. They stared at the bed where the man who had controlled their entire lives, now lay lifeless.

Jungkook had never known a life that didn’t consist of being reprimanded and ordered around by Hitman Bang. Even in his final days, Jungkook still felt like the kid who nearly fell over the first time he shot a gun, not prepared for the recoil. Hitman had laughed before telling him he’d get used to it, stabilizing him, and making him shoot again.

Hoseok was well aware this time was coming, but it didn’t sink in until now that there wasn’t another option. And now it’s here, he’s too late to prepare for a reaction, so his body stills.

Yoongi chewed on his inner cheek, standing near the foot of the bed. “Fuck.” He mutters to himself, he’s pretty sure this is the first time he’s ever seen someone dead that wasn’t murdered or otherwise injured. And somehow, it hurt so much more knowing his own body did this to him. His body decided to kill him. The ultimate betrayal.

Taehyung leaves the room, pushing past Hoseok and Jungkook and walking until he gets to the living room. He pretended he wanted to help calm Kit down. But he really just couldn’t bear being in the room without vomiting.

Jimin and Jin stand on the side of the bed. Jimin starts casually dumping pill bottles and wrappings from needles filled with morphine into a nearby trash can. Jin tries to talk to him but Jimin quickly cuts him off. “It’s over. He’s dead. Now you can either help me clean this shit up or you can go call the morgue. One or the other. I’m in charge now.”

Jin decides to call the morgue, coming to the conclusion that Jimin needed that bit of time to himself. And honestly, Jin needed some distraction and a second to breathe fresh air.

Jimin takes Kit back to her house before anyone even shows up to remove the body. He claims it’s just so Kit doesn’t have to be there and watch. But it’s for his sake too, because he spends the rest of the day lying in her bed, holding her. Only moving to answer a few texts. “You can go home, Jimin.” She had told him more than a couple of times, only getting a hum of ‘I’m fine’ or some excuse in response. She doesn’t want him to leave, she finds resting her head on his chest with his arm around her to be more than comfortable, but she wants to keep enforcing the fact that he’s there because he wants to be in her bed cuddling her, not because he feels that he needs to be. So they held each other in her bed for hours, the television nearly muted. Only interrupted by two phone calls telling Kit that her mother was approved for transfer to the better hospital in the city and that her brother had a bed reserved for him in a rehab facility in Arizona.

Bang Sihyuk was a lot of things, but he was a man of his word.

“Go to sleep, kitten.” Jimin whispered just before 10 p.m., slowly rubbing her back. They had nearly finished a full season of Grey’s Anatomy.

“You need to sleep too.” She told him.

“I can handle myself.” Kit shifted her body, somehow moving even closer to him, resting a leg over his.

“It’s okay to be sad, you know? It’s normal to be upset. It’s not good for your mind to pretend you’re okay when you’re not.” She said softly, tracing the ink of his tattoo with her finger. He doesn’t respond, not sure what to say. She wasn’t really expecting a response anyway. “Goodnight, Jimin.” She presses a kiss to his shoulder.

“You don’t have to take me to work.” Kit said with a huff as she climbed into the passenger seat of Jimin’s car.

“You keep mentioning how long the walk from the hospital to the garage is. No telling who might be out there waiting for a pretty little thing like you to come walking all alone.” He started the car and drives out of the complex’s parking lot.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to leave so fast! The super already came to scold me, saying you’re gonna ruin the pavement.” Kit scolded. The pavement has been in dire need of repair but no one wanted to pay for it so the superintendent decided that suing would be the best way to collect money.

“I didn’t get a nice car and sit with Yoongi for a month to customize it so I could drive the speed limit.”

“You’re so annoying sometimes.” Kit rolled her eyes as Jimin laughed, resting a hand on her thigh. “I work a 12 today, are you gonna be able to get me?”

“Course I am, kitten. What do ya take me for?”

“A very busy man? Especially at 9 o’clock on a Friday night.”

“If you’re implying what I think you are, you’re wrong.” He slides his hand further up her leg before wrapping it back around the steering wheel. She doesn’t push further but has a soft smile on her face for the rest of the ride.

“Took you long enough, my god, thought some psycho patient got ahold of you.” Jimin turned the key as Kit starts buckling up.

“Sorry,” she whined, “you would not believe the shift I had. All to end with some 15-year-old telling me they went into cardiac arrest and I’m too stupid to figure it out.”

“Let me guess, she consulted doctor google?” He raised an eyebrow as he started driving.

“Isn’t it always?” Kit sighed as she leaned back in the seat. “What have you been doing?”

“Cleaning up the restaurant.” He stated, a curious hum leaves Kit’s body. “Well, hiring other people to do it and watching over them.”

“Did the police finally say it was arson?”

“Nope, they didn’t say anything. Made sure they didn’t.”

“Well, don’t you think the police should investigate?” Kit turned her body as much as she could to face him.

“Are you-- my god, you’re still so innocent.” Jimin kept his focus on the road, fearing what he’d do if he saw that innocent look in her brown eyes.

“I just don’t get it. If you can pay them to say it wasn’t arson, just pay them not to arrest you all.”

“It’s not that simple, babygirl.” Jimin sighed, thanking God that his phone happened to ding and end the conversation. “Shit, shit, shit.” He muttered reading the text.

“What is it? Jimin!” Kit nearly screamed as Jimin made a very illegal U-turn.

“These dumb fucks! I can’t leave them alone for an hour!” He slams his hand down on the edge of the wheel. He pulls into a dark street, stopping short of what seemed to be a warehouse.

“Where are we?” She looked around, unable to even figure out what street they were on.

“Just…” He huffed as he opened the door. “Just stay in the car.” He got out without another word, slamming the door shut, leaving Kit in a state somewhere between confusion and frustration and on the border of a panic attack as she sees him run around the corner of the building. She started hearing some yelling but she couldn’t make out what anyone was saying. She wanted to get out, be a little nosy, help in some way. But Jimin’s words rang in her head and the look on his face as he got the text, it was better to do as he said. This was confirmed when a loud pop hurt her ears. Then another, a couple of seconds later another pop. Her body stiffened and her eyes widened. She feared the worst. She wasn’t sure if Jimin was the cause of the gunshots or the recipient. She didn’t even know who else was there.

“Get in the fucking car!” A voice yells, managing to be so loud the soundwaves penetrate the car and she hears it clearly. She sees Jimin, Jin, and Jungkook run towards the car, she lets out a breath when she realizes they’re all fine, but she soon is filled with worry again as the guys scramble into the car. Jimin doesn’t say anything as he speeds out.

“What happened to you all?” Kit looks toward a panting Jin and Jungkook, realizing Jimin wasn’t going to say answer even if he could unlock his jaw for long enough to talk.

“Those dumbasses from Seventeen.” Jin groans. “They had a couple girls with them, didn’t even know they had girls in their gang!”

“I cannot believe you two almost got killed trying to get laid!” Jimin yelled and Kit thought she might not ever be able to hear properly again.

“Well not all of us can bang the only girl in our circle.” Jungkook attempted to defend himself. Kit stumbles over words for a moment before Jimin shoots him a glare in the rear-view mirror.

“I’m going to assume you said that out of agony and aren’t in a state to know better.” He growled. “Say that shit again and see if I don’t feed you back to Seungcheol.” For once, Kit is thankful for Jimin’s temper.

Kit is sat in the living room of the estate as the guys talk, knees up to her chest. Jimin is pacing, she wished he would pick another habit because it only made her more anxious.

“Maybe they’ll change their name to Sixteen.” Hoseok tried to lighten the situation with a joke.

“Fifteen.” Jin laughed.

“Nah, I heard Mingyu made it out. Probably wishes he didn’t.” Hoseok nudged Namjoon next to him as he laughed. But Namjoon isn’t listening. His attention was focused solely on Kit, he watched her expression change as the guys talked.

“Breathe, Kit.” Namjoon stood up, making his way toward the girl.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin stopped in his tracks, looking between Namjoon and Kit. Kit doesn’t speak, her chest raises and lowers rapidly.

“She’s having a panic attack.” Namjoon spoke calmly, knowing that if he worried it would only make her worse. He lowered to his knees in front of her. “Kit, Kit, look at me.” She grabbed hold on Namjoon’s hands as she looked into his eyes, anxiety clear on her face as her body shook with her breaths.

“Why is she having a panic attack?” Jimin rubbed his hands over his face. And why didn’t I notice before? He thought to himself.

“Is it because we talked about murdering the guys from Seventeen?” Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows.

“Of course it’s because we mentioned how we killed someone, you idiot.” Taehyung snapped, making Kit sob loudly. Namjoon starts speaking softly to her.

“Everyone needs to leave right now.” Namjoon’s smooth voice replaces the murmurs.

“You don’t get to make the orders around here.” Jimin responded before glancing back over at Kit, her brown skin turning red as cries leave her mouth. Her hands moved to clench the fabric of her shirt. “Everyone out.” He nearly whispered. For a moment he’s not sure if anyone even heard him. But they soon start leaving. Namjoon gives a small smile to the leader as he follows behind them.

“You’re gonna be okay, everyone panicked a little at first.” Namjoon sat down beside Kit when the door closed. She didn’t respond, so he continued. “My girlfriend freaked out the first time I ever mentioned it.” He chuckled a little remembering that day. “I forget sometimes that my life isn’t normal.”

“You have a girlfriend?” Kit mumbled, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. Namjoon nodded, a big smile on his face that helped calm her.

“Yeah, I do. That’s usually why I’m not here. I’d much rather spend my time reading in her living room than taking orders from Jimin.” He said, getting a soft giggle from Kit.

“He’s a little bossy sometimes.” She said, looking up at him. Her body was still shaking a little, her breathing not quite steady but she seemed to be calming.

“He is, he means well though. You don’t have to keep doing this, staying here and helping out. Jimin’s got it covered. Hitman just wasn’t sure he could.” Namjoon explained. He was sure it wasn’t her first panic attack steeming from the gang and it probably wouldn’t be her last.

“I’m not sure he really does have it covered.” Kit sniffled, Namjoon raised his eyebrows, motioning her to explain. “The amount of times I’ve talked to him about his concerns over a situation means he’s not sure. I’ve calmed him down way too many times. He won’t even admit that he’s worried, he doesn’t want anyone to know. But I know.”

“Well… then... I’m glad you’re helping.” Namjoon was a little shocked. He, for once, wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Maybe I could link you up with my girl. You guys could talk about how dumb we all are.” He placed a hand on her shoulder as Kit nodded giving him a smile before she wrapped her arms around him.

“Thanks, Joonie.” He pulled her closer into him, the nickname warmed his heart in a way he couldn’t explain. He hadn’t heard it in a while, not since Kit left Bangtan years ago. It was a stark contrast from the harsh yell of ‘Namjoon’ he had become used to.

“Anytime.” He whispered.

End of Part Two. I’m going to try and get this up once a week by the way! Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think?

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts reaction #bts scenario #btswriterscollective #bangtanhq #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagine #my writing

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stereksecretsanta · 6 years ago

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Merry Christmas, @Rebekahdarian93!

Read on AO3

*****

This Awkward Love

Derek hates parties. He doesn't like crowds or having to smile for complete strangers. He particularly hates the Hale Pack's Annual Christmas party because his parents will inevitably use it to try and set him up with their friends' children or people from allied packs. They've even done it when he wasn't single, though really the less said about the year he brought Kate Argent to the party, the better.

If it had been any other party, he might have been able to find a way out of attending—like suddenly visiting another country or drinking just enough wolfsbane-laced alcohol to send him to the hospital without risking his life—but the annual Hale Christmas party in Beacon Hills was a big deal and his parents would literally drag him here, IV bag and all, if he didn't voluntarily attend.

They know how bad he is at talking to people outside of their pack. He is the embodiment of awkward and this, right here, is a prime example. There's a gorgeous guy hanging out near the buffet table—young and skinny with large brown eyes, delicately thin hands, and a smile full of mischief—and Derek's instincts are screaming at him to go talk to the guy, that he might be The One, Derek's mate, the absolute love of his life, but his feet are rooted to the floor and all he can do is stare.

Another man approaches Derek's possibly-mate and grabs his arm. Derek has to fight down the urge to bare his teeth in challenge. He's not a jealous guy but he has the strangest urge to throw the man across the room for getting too close to his maybe-mate.

"Stiles," the man hisses, voice low, frown firmly in place, "what did you do? That werewolf looks like he's about to murder you."

Derek's eyes narrow. Who's threatening his potential mate, Stiles? He glances around but no one is looking at Stiles with more than a fleeting glance. The other attendees seem happy, for the most part. He doesn't scent any overt aggression.

"You promised you weren't going to do anything," the man says in a bit of a whine. "You promised."

Stiles places his hand on his chest and gapes at his friend with mock-affront. The move seems practiced in its theatricality. "Why, Scott, the very insinuation that I would start any kind of mischief is just absurd. I am the picture of innocence."

"Stiles..." Scott's tone is long-suffering, suggesting that Stiles and mischief are well-acquainted.

Stiles sighs and rolls his eyes. "Fine. But I haven't done anything." Scott raises an eyebrow and Stiles adds, "Yet. I swear, I haven't even talked to creeper-wolf over there." He jerks his thumb in Derek's direction.

Derek blinks. He looks behind him. There's a bare wall and a small scattering of people, none of whom are facing this way.

"And I haven't seen Peter yet, so really, what could I possibly have done?"

Stiles knows Peter? He could be referring to a different Peter—it's certainly a common enough name—but what are the chances of him meaning anyone other than Uncle Peter at a Hale function? How does Stiles know Peter? Why haven't they crossed paths before?

"Do you need me to get your dad? One of the Alphas?" Scott whispers.

Stiles rolls his eyes. "You do realize that's Alpha Hale's son, right? Derek Hale."

Shit! Shit. He's the creepy murder werewolf. He needs to look away. Anywhere else. Ceiling? No, lights are too bright. Floor? Now he looks pathetic. There! The Christmas tree. He can stare at the tree and it's like he's admiring it instead of trying too hard to not creep out his mate. Maybe mate. Probably most definitely mate.

"Hey, there's Cora. Cora!" Stiles raises his voice a little to catch Cora's attention. "Cora, come over here for a sec."

He risks a glance at his sister. She's got a glass of cider on one hand. She walks up to them with a familiar, "Yo! What's up, Stiles?"

Does everyone in his family know Stiles? This could be bad for him. Gods, if Stiles knows Laura there will be no end to the embarrassing stories.

"Did I do something to piss off your brother?" Stiles asks. He sounds more amused than concerned. "He's glaring some serious daggers my way."

"I didn't know you two had even met," Cora says. Which is true. They haven't. Until now, but that really doesn't count if he hasn't actually said a word to Stiles. Or come within three feet of him.

"We haven't," Stiles agrees. "Did Peter say something? I feel like this could be one of Peter's pranks, in which case my revenge will be swift and glorious."

"Not that I've heard and Peter usually tells me his evil plans." There's a slight pause where none of them speak and Derek stares very hard at a snowflake ornament on the tree so he doesn't look at Stiles.

"I think he's planning to murder the tree now," Stiles says. His amusement is obvious.

Cora sighs. "Derek, what are you being all pissy about?"

He frowns and scuffs his foot against the carpet. "I'm not being pissy," he mutters back.

"Did you swallow a lemon?" Stiles snorts. "Seriously, why are you mad at Stiles?"

He huffs and rolls his eyes to the ceiling. "I'm not mad."

"Then what are you doing?"

He considers hiding in the woods until the party's over but the only direction his body wants to move is closer to Stiles.

"Do I need to get Laura?" Cora threatens.

His cheeks flame red at the very suggestion. "Ithinkhe'smymate," he says, all in one breath.

He dares a glance over. Cora is frowning at him. Next to her, Stiles is watching him, bemused. Scott keeps looking back and forth between Stiles and Derek like he's waiting for a fight to break out.

Cora raises an eyebrow when she notices him looking. "I'm sorry, try again. Maybe in English this time."

He sighs. He's never going to hear the end of this. Ever. Laura is going to put the story on his tombstone. "I think," he says slowly, "he's my mate."

Someone tackles Derek from behind, sending him stumbling. He barely avoids falling on his face. "What the hell?" He turns to find Laura standing there with an insane grin.

"Who's your mate?" Laura asks, voice full of excitement. She even bounces a little.

"He is," Cora says, pointing at Stiles, who looks very confused.

"I'm what?" Stiles asks.

"Going to meet my brother," Cora answers. She grabs Stiles by the arm at the same time as Laura grabs Derek's arm. They're both dragged across the room to meet in the middle. "Stiles, meet my brother, Derek. He wants to make babies with you."

Laura gives Derek an extra push toward Stiles. He shoots Laura a quick glare and then rubs the back of his head. He's not sure his face can get redder but he's about to find out. "Um, hi." He can't quite bring himself to look straight at Stiles. He doesn't want to come off as creepy. Again.

"Hi," Stiles says, voice thick with humor. "I'm Stiles. I require at least one proper date before there's any attempt at making babies. Which, given we're both guys, babies are highly unlikely to occur but I'm willing to put in the effort." He holds out his hand. His smile is absolutely blinding. Cora and Laura can both hear the way it makes Derek's heart skip a beat.

Derek stares at the appendage. This is it, the turning point of his life. If he takes Stiles's hand, it will confirm what his instincts already know. If he doesn't.... Well, that's not really an option.

He takes Stiles's hand in his. Electricity courses through his body, setting his nerves alight. In the space of an instant, he's broken apart and remade anew, his very being reshaped to include Stiles. He can feel Stiles's presence. Stiles is his personal North Star, a guiding light that pulls Derek home. Stiles's scent is so thick, Derek can taste it—electricity and midnight rain and freshly turned earth.

"Oh," Stiles says after a minute. His eyes are wide as saucers. He hasn't let go of Derek's hand.

Cora claps them both on the shoulder, startling them into letting go. "Well, my work here is done. You kids have a lovely time and don't start humping at the party, Mom will kill you."

Oh, gods, his parents are going to be insufferable. They'll announce it over the loudspeakers and pull him and Stiles up on stage. He has to get out of here. At least finding his mate will make a good excuse. They can't fault him for wanting to spend time strengthening the bond with his mate.

"Dinner?" Derek blurts.

Stiles blinks and his face shifts back to that amused grin he had before. "It's a thing I enjoy, yeah."

"We should..." Derek swallows. "Do you want to? Now?"

There's something soft in the way Stiles looks at him. Almost fond, growing fonder. "You mean, would I like to have dinner with you?"

"Yes." Derek nods. "That."

Stiles moves to Derek's side and wraps his arm around Derek's elbow. "I'd love to. For future reference, I love diners and curly fries are the food of the gods."

Derek nods, far more solemn than the situation calls for but he wants to do everything he can to please his mate. "I can do curly fries."

#Rebekahdarian93 #stereksanta14 #*fic18 #*gifts18

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subtlerain · 6 years ago

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Chrysalis - Part II

→ Vampire!Taehyung x Reader

I ♥ II ♥ III ♥ IV ♥ V ♥ VI ♥

A/N: Hello hello and welcome to Part II! I want to thank you for all of your support on the first part of this series, and I am seriously so pumped to share this next part! I will be posting a new part each Sunday evening (more on that in my faq) and as of right now, I am not sure how long this series will be. Please show your support on this series as I have a TON of ideas I think you will love!

Warnings: angst/emotional themes, sadistic vampire Tae, feelings & character development woop

Tagged: @fuckingpisces @ophelia-carolina @jeongin-stay @charlesgrey1875 @lilliaflurr @thelonelyshinbu @squadlevi

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my tagged list so you don’t miss the next part! ♥

You stayed curled up in a ball for what seemed like forever, your face dried with tears and mind racing. It was regret you felt first, terrified out of your mind of what you had walked so mindlessly into, what would happen next in this unknown place. You had fallen asleep almost instantly, so exhausted and scared and so drained that the corner of his living room was the perfect surface to curl up on.

You hadn’t cried so openly for such a long time, and whether it was the very terrifying presence of the lonesome vampire, or your own emotions suddenly crashing down on you, you didn’t know.

One thing you did know though, was that you were foolish for thinking he’d be kind to you, have any sense of remorse for your pathetic situation that he very obviously did not care about.

The only thing that kept you somewhat sane was the fact that your sister was still alive and in a clean hospital, a kind nurse by her side, and money for her care and future piling up in the account under her name and her name only.

You awoke at a nudge at your ribs and a low voice above your head.

“Get up, girl.”

You shot up instantly, blinking away sleep from your eyes and brushing back your messy hair with your hands furiously, trying to grasp onto the very little dignity you had left.

You yelped as your eyes landed on the vampire, who was hovering above you. Pure fear caused you to scoot back suddenly, pressing your body against the wall as your eyes widened to saucers.

He stood above you, his almond eyes narrowing even more, “I hate the smell of salt.”

You realized he was talking about your tears, and you wiped at them hastily, “I-I’m sorry.”

You knew you looked pathetic, and you hated it, but when you were faced with death in the form of an elegant creature who at any moment could tear you to shreds, you reacted the way another other human would.

He only looked away, “Follow me. I’ll take you to your room.”

It took you a moment to process his words in your fuzzy brain before you leaped up and grabbed your bags, knees wobbling as you followed him wordlessly.

He walked fast, sweeping along the corridors like a ghost, and you tried to memorize the turns you took down darkened hallways, past old antiques and dusty bookshelves.

You stared at the back of his head as he walked, wondering what he was thinking. Upon your first interaction, it was clear he was not of your kind, rather possessing a supernatural aura that caused your uneasiness. You were sure you had passed other vampires, perhaps in the subway or on the street or in a coffee shop, but they all concealed their uneasy energy, if not gave it up completely, if that was possible.

That was not the same for Mr Kim.

He was the most vampire-ist vampire you had ever come in contact with, from his victorian style, creepy mansion to his lose fitting, velvety clothes.

Unlike any human you would come in contact with, it was hard to analyze him, judge his expressions or gauge his response. He was stone-faced and remorseless, and you wondered just how long it took him to perfect his unpleasant demeanour.

Your eyes drifted from a curl of hazelnut at his nape to the patch of exposed skin at his nape.

But if you knew anything about those who appear horribly sharp and vile on the outside, they used that exterior as protection, as a shield from everything on the outside.

And this vampire’s chrysalis had had decades and decades to build up.

You were pulled from your thoughts as he suddenly stopped in front of a door, and you reeled back to avoid slamming into his back. He produced a key from his dress-coat pocket, a shiny brass instrument that he jiggled into the keyhole. He twisted the knob and you followed slowly as he flicked on the lights.

Like the rest of the house, it was victorian style, lavish and old-looking, but somehow still beautiful and elegant. There was a large bed in the centre with dark red sheets and pillows, a vanity and a closet. It was larger than you expected, and you continued to admire the room until you noticed him looking at you carefully.

“You will sleep here.” He said sharply, and he seemed to think for a moment, his eyes trailing down your body and to the small case still clutched in your hand, “Although it seems you brought some belongings, I’ll send your measurements to my stylist to have clothes made for your stay.”

You shook your head, “Oh, no really, that’s okay! I don’t need—“

His eyes narrowed, “As I said yesterday, you’re living in my house under my rules, and as much as I despise this awful ‘companion’ concept, I’d rather pay for new clothes for you than have you walk around in whatever rags you brought.”

Although you felt a pang of offence which you knew he certainly meant, you just nodded. After all, his father had said he would pay for your expenses, and a new wardrobe did sound rather appealing, especially hand-made ones from his personal stylist.

Silently, you walked over to the bed to place your suitcase on the mattress.

Mr Kim watched you carefully, letting his eyes sweep over your features again. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so close to a human. Just as much as this was a new situation for you, it was for him, and he took a moment to analyze you, his narrowed eyes traveling up and down your body. You weren’t particularly attractive nor unattractive, he thought, and he could point out all your flaws easily. You obviously didn’t have a lot of money based on how worn your shoes were and how faded your dress was, and he wondered why you still hadn’t tried to run away after his threats, and after your complete meltdown on the floor of his living room.

The door was unlocked, and it wouldn’t take you long to run back to humanity and back to your sick little sister that you were foolish enough to waste your young-adult life on by agreeing to live with him.

He wondered why you weren’t at least trying to fight back, why you had been so submissive even after his blatant insults.

He noticed that you had been still for a little too long, and how you tried to hide your trembling hands from him, even though he could detect every tremor in your tiny body. But, the most intriguing thing to him was that he could hear the steady rhythm of your heart. He noticed that it spiked every time he looked at you, and you tensed each time he talked. It was rather distracting, he thought, the sound of your warm, pounding organ loud in his ears.

It was also irritating that you were so blatantly alive. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been in the same room as a human girl, one so full of life and so so devastatingly warm.

“Mr Kim?”

His eyes snapped to yours as you turned around and faced him. You looked away for a moment before pulling your eyes back to him.

The vampire was also surprised at your willingness to look at him in the eyes. Most humans avoided the eyes of a vampire, for they were piercing and cold, unforgiving orbs that sucked out nearly all light. But even with your trembling hands and pounding heart, you looked right into him with those large, human eyes of yours, even if he tried his hardest to summon all the darkness in him directly to his irises.

But, he reminded himself, you were not just a regular human girl, of course. You were obviously, horribly, stupid. After all, you had agreed to practically give up your life and freedom for a family member, and live with him, a hopeless, reclusive vampire.

And worst of all, it seemed you had hope that you of all people would be able to change him.

“Yes?” He replied.

You let out the smallest of smiles, “I haven’t introduced myself yet.”

He blinked.

You bowed your head, and gave another small smile, “My name is Y/N.”

You were smiling, however your eyes were still puffy from your tears and your hands were still trembling. He wondered why you were trying so damn hard to be okay when you clearly were not.

He narrowed his eyes, and ran his tongue over his incisors, “I do not wish to know your name, because I am still trying to figure out if I am going kill you.”

Your eyes widened, and your heart rate spiked again, the sweet crimson pumping through your blood rapidly, your response only natural given his words.

Fear.

He brushed back a piece of his fringe, “I will call you what I want, or I will choose to disregard you completely.”

You blinked at the ground, but you nodded simply, as if you had already guessed his answer.

He rested his hand on the doorknob and looked away, “I will give you further instructions tomorrow.”

The last thing you remembered before you fell asleep was the words of Mr Kim’s father:

“He is the future of my company. Your job is to help to integrate him into our world, so do not fail. Your request will not be fulfilled if you do not do your job.”

***

Mr Kim tested your name on his tongue as he walked down the hallway to his own quarters. It didn’t taste bad on his palate, in fact, it rather suited you, he thought.

He listened to your heartbeat even out as he walked down the hallway, and he listened to it slow even more as he lay in his bed that night, his eyes closed, as you fell asleep in the next room.

He had lived alone for decades, and he had always walked down these corridors by himself, the only thing in his ears the occasional hoot of an owl or rustle of leaves. But now, in his home was a human girl, and your presence was nearly overwhelming for his senses, his palate, and his whole, dead, body.

It should be a vampire’s dream, but it was his worst nightmare.

He let his mind roam as he lay in his bed, looking at the ceiling.

He could kill you now, he could rip the human life out of you so quickly that you wouldn’t know what had happened. Or he could drag it out slowly, watch the life seep out of your eyes and let your body go limp in his arms, like a perfect doll.

Or, for a fleeting second, he thought he could take you to the room of your sick little sister and stab you straight through the heart with the sharpest dagger he owned, and he could watch the little girl pale and scream and cry because you had taken the one person that probably mattered the most to her.

Before he slept, Mr Kim wondered what it would be like to be on the side of the dagger this time, to hold it in his hand and place it in the heart of a human.

He wondered if your sick little sister would mirror his horrified, helpless, desperate expression that he wore all those years ago.

***

You slept very well for a person in the home of a sadistic vampire. However, you woke with alarm, the unfamiliar room causing you to nearly scream with panic until you remembered the events of the previous day.

Mansion. Vampire.

You sighed and pulled yourself from under the sheets. You weren’t one to take a lot of self pity, and after your meltdown the night before, you now just felt a little empty. But it was better than crying, so you took the numbness with ease.

Plus, the good news was, he hadn’t killed you in your sleep.

How grim.

You opted for another summer dress, this one light floral and collared. You looked at your figure in the mirror as you did up the top button and slid on a pair of flats.

This was your life now, and the sooner you accepted it, the better.

You thought of your sister for a moment, her doe-eyes filled with tears when you told her that you had to leave. She had tried to sit up in her hospital bed, but the monitor beeped and the the tube in her arm stretched, so the nurse in the corner of the room eased her back down.

“When will you be back?”

You remember looking away and not knowing the answer, wishing that you could tell her something to ease her mind like a date that she could count down in her little brain.

So instead, you smiled the kindest, warmest smile you could muster.

“No matter how long, I’ll always be with you. Sing a song and I’ll sing too, whisper you worries and I will hear them.”

She had beamed through her glassy eyes and nodded, and you nearly sobbed because she was so strong, and the most determined little girl you had ever met.

So when you left, her soft little voice helped you gain courage, and made you smile.

With a deep breath in and out, you put a small smile on your face and made your way down the hallway, using your mental-map of the mansion to navigate, until you finally reached the main foyer of the house.

It was empty, and you let out a sigh of relief when there was no trace of Mr Kim. Although you knew he was most likely lurking somewhere, it was much too early in the morning to deal with his piercing eyes and sharp words.

You stood in the foyer for a moment, unsure of your next move. It occurred to you that he hadn’t told you what he expected the next day, nor where you could find him if you needed anything.

Then again, he seemed to want nothing to do with you, which was just fine. Much like a stubborn child, it would take time to fully complete your task, and time what what you had now.

However, the first problem was that you had no idea where the kitchen was, and the loud rumbling of your stomach was persistent.

Your question seemed to be answered when you strolled down the large hallway and a pungent smell hit your nose. You gagged, and covered your mouth with your hand, eyes nearly watering at the strong scent.

Mold? Rot?

You prepared yourself for the worst as you entered a door towards the back of the house, eyes widening as you walked into the kitchen.

Or, what supposed to be a kitchen, and not mountains containing layers of garbage and old food and blood bags littering the once-white countertops.

Huffing, you made an executive decision, and five minutes later, you were decked out with a face mask, apron and blue rubber gloves you had found in a cabinet, trash bag in one hand and mop in the other.

You bit your lip as you tossed blood bag after blood bag into the trash, followed by old food and boxes of frozen pizzas and ramen noodle cups in the trash. You almost laughed at the fact that he ate the same brand of spicy ramen noodles as you, despite being a blood-sucking vampire.

Maybe you had more in common than you thought.

Once the trash was tossed, you scrubbed the counter tops with the strongest soap you could find and bleached nearly the whole kitchen. Despite the horrifying mess, you were just glad to have not found piles of dead bodies drained of blood that had first come to mind from the smell.

Old pizza and bags of blood supplied by your local hospital were just fine.

It was the humming that awoke Mr Kim from his slumber, the light vibrations sounding from your throat that caused him to snap his eyes open, and just listen, his senses alert. Something moved deep inside him at the sound, so harmless yet so comforting.

He hadn’t heard a woman hum so idly for such a long time.

He wordlessly followed your soprano, creeping along the hallways with narrowed eyes, however, his ears were wide open, and he felt a flit of something pleasant stretch through his body as your voice filled his ears.

He banished the feeling, of course.

Your voice lead him to the kitchen, and he halted his movements when he saw you turned away from him, scrubbing out a particularly stubborn stain on his granite countertop. His eyes flitted to the garbage bags packed with packages of blood and rotten food, and the stench nearly gave him a headache.

It was a stench he hadn’t noticed whenever he rummaged through the kitchen with a burning, instinctual hunger and ripped open a bag of blood, or grabbed a handful of ramen noodle cups and retreated back to his study.

He looked at you, clad in rubber gloves and a face mask, apron wrapped snugly around your waist. Your heart rate was relaxed, breathing soft and even.

And you were still humming.

But then you turned around, and your heart rate spiked, and your eyes went wide with sudden surprise.

“M-Mr Kim! You scared me…” You said, eyes landing on the ground again.

“What are you doing?” He asked, your shallow breaths loud in his ears.

“Cleaning.” You answered softly, your voice muffled by the face mask.

He looked around you, and he seemed to be thinking before he responded, “Very well. Continue.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, nearly expecting him to chastise you. But his response was so normal that you paused for a moment before picking up your sponge and continuing to scrub.

He didn’t leave, either.

You watched him from your peripheral vision as he pulled out one of the dark oak bar stools and sat, leaning backwards on the chair, dressed in silk pyjamas and the same housecoat he had on yesterday. His dark hair was messy from bedhead, but somehow still looked wonderful, wispy curls of melted chocolate brushing around his face.

You were confused but his presence, yes, but opted to pretend he wasn’t there, so instead you scrubbed harder until the countertops shone.

He watched you carefully, and kept himself busy by listening to your heartbeat as it slowed down to a normal pace. You had stopped humming, and for a moment, he wished he hadn’t interrupted you so he could hear the sound again.

He saw the way you kept glancing at him from behind your mask, your wide eyes landing on him before darting back to your work, and he smirked before speaking.

“I’ve come up with a list of rules for your stay here.” He proposed.

You stilled, “O-okay, Mr Kim.”

His eyes never left you, “First, you’re not allowed to leave this house.”

You stopped scrubbing, “What? But what about—”

He narrowed his dark eyes, “Take off that mask, I cannot hear you properly.”

You flushed and slipped off the rubber gloves before pulling off the mask, bare face now completely visible to the man in front of you.

He deliberated, “Fine. You are not allowed to leave this house, unless accompanied by me.”

You blinked.

That was unexpected.

He seemed to notice your surprise and continued, “I don’t trust to not run away. If I lose you, or if you get hurt, my father will not be happy, and as much as I hate him, he is undoubtedly more powerful than I.” He looked down at the countertop, “I do not wish to leave, but I will do so to protect myself and keep you in line.”

You only nodded. Self-benefit. Of course.

“Next,” He continued, not missing a beat, “Do not bother me when I am sleeping. There will be consequences if you do.”

You nodded. Simple enough.

“Do not be noisy for no reason. Do not scream or cry or do anything that is unnecessary or foolish.” He said harshly, not a snippet of remorse in his tone. “I expect you to cook and clean as-well, but do not over eat, I find that annoying.” He looked away.

You nodded again.

He stood up, slightly surprised at your submission, “And your manners are atrocious, I will teach you how to behave properly soon.” His eyes were narrowed as he paced in the kitchen.

You looked down, feeling your face redden.

“Understood?”

You jumped, “Y-yes, Mr Kim.”

Suddenly he was in front of you, and he shook his head, jaw tense, “And…don’t call me that.”

You blinked up at him, and you willed yourself to not look away, “Call you what?”

His eyes were on yours again, dark and unwavering, “Mr Kim. That is my father, and I’ll throw myself off the very top of this mansion before I become that scumbag.”

You nearly laughed from surprise at how sincere his comment was before you spoke up again, “Then what shall I call you?”

There was a crack in his composure for a moment, so quick it was over in a blink of an eye, only visible because you were so close to him. It was as if he was very venerable for just a moment, and you could’ve sworn you saw something inside the deepness of his irises soften for a fraction of a second.

Then he turned away, back facing you, and his voice was low, “If you must, you may call me Taehyung.”

Your lips quirked into a secret smile, and you felt something in the centre of your chest flip.

Taehyung.

***

“Y-you really don’t have to—“

Mr Kim whipped around to face you with narrowed eyes, “Do not make me ask again.”

Deciding hesitation was a bad option, you got onto the stool he had placed down in front of you, raising your height to almost match his.

He unrolled a measuring tape, “Although this is a waste of my time, as I said, you wearing the same clothes every day is not ideal.” His eyes met yours, “I still cannot believe you don’t know your own measurements.”

You only sighed. Taehyung had been rather adamant about getting you new clothes, and you had to admit, your very few pieces of clothing would not suffice. So, here you are, standing on a stool in your room, feeling bumps raise on your arms as he disappeared behind you.

You had noticed that he hardly ever wore the same things twice, and he always had some kind of accessory, ranging from a long silver earring or a leather choker.

For someone who hated your world, you were sure he could easily become the next model for some high-end, trendy fashion brand if he wanted.

You had barely been in his house for a week, and you already knew that arguing with him was a pointless exercise, even if he was being completely irrational. Such as the situation you had found yourself in, where you could’ve just popped over to the local department store, but no, things were never easy, and he refused to step one foot out the door despite your suggestion.

So you went along with him, deciding to use this opportunity to get to know the vampire better, if he would even let you.

You flinched as his fingers brushed down the side of your arm, stretching the tape from your nape to your wrist.

You breathed in, “Do you do this often?”

He didn’t miss a beat, “I would measure my father for his suits, when his assistants were away.”

He moved to write your measurement on a piece of paper, before facing you again, eyes trained on your torso.

You swallowed as his fingers moved around your hips, “Do you see him often? Your father.”

He scribbled down a number, “No.”

Your lips quirked into a small smile, “I guess you wouldn’t want to, the two of you don’t seem to see eye-to-eye.” That was the kindest way to put it, you thought.

Taehyung was back in front of you, his body only inches away as he wrapped the tape around the dip of your waist, “He means nothing to me.”

You bit your lip. You had only had a few interactions with Taehyung despite living with him, but it was clear as day that he despised his father. He had never given you any inclination as to why, but you guessed it was a difference in beliefs. After all, his father is the charming CEO of a big corporation, and Taehyung is a reclusive introvert with a clear dislike to anything outside of his mansion.

His eyes flitted to yours for a second, and he murmured under his breath, “Pardon me…”

You tried not to think about his hands as he wrapped the tape around your bust, and you concentrated on lifting your arms, dropping them weakly as he once again pulled away.

You watched him carefully, a single question balanced on your tongue, “What about your mother?”

He stilled, his pencil hovering above the paper, “She died long ago.” He wrote your last measurement down.

You looked away sadly, “I’m sorry.”

He clenched his jaw, “You’re not at fault, so don’t apologize.”

Based on his reaction, you knew he had closed off this topic, but that didn’t keep you from wondering what had happened to her.

Instead of staying quiet, he spoke up, “And your parents?”

You shook your head, “A sob story I’m sure you don’t want to hear about.”

He turned around at that, his stone-faced expression mildly bordering on curiosity. Of course he knew of your sister, the sick little girl that his father was giving medicine to. But, he realized, he knew nothing else about you apart from your name and your little mannerisms that he had picked up on. And of course, he knew your intoxicating scent, and the sound of that sweet crimson pumping through your veins.

But he had to admit, he was curious about you.

You smiled weakly, “She was a single mom, and she died when I was younger.”

His eyes were already on yours when you looked up, “You have no mother, and your sister is ill.”

You nodded and stepped off the stool, “It’s just me and Mina.”

Taehyung watched you carefully, trying to mask his expression while watching yours. You were acting so calm, open and easy, as if you had just been talking to him about your favourite colour, not this horrible past that he would’ve never guessed existed.

His eyes narrowed, and he felt something sticky inside him, a familiar feeling that he felt all too often, “She left you nothing.”

You shrugged, “We never had much. She was depressed, she was struggling too. Things just got more difficult when my sister got sick.”

Taehyung clenched his fists as he watched you, your expression so calm and understanding, so very horribly accepting of the things that had happened.

He swallowed, “Why aren’t you angry?”

You smiled at the ground, “What will getting angry help? What will resenting my dead mother change?” You looked at him with a sudden determination in your eyes that nearly left him breathless, “I have to keep my head up for my sister, and for myself.”

His lips parted slightly, and he realized that he truly didn’t have anything to say.

You didn’t speak to him much, and when he demanded to be left alone, you did. He didn’t know what exactly you did when he was locked away in his room, but he had never seen you cry, never seen you scream or get angry at the world, even though you had every right to be.

It was so unfair, he thought, so unfair that you had to bear this burden at your young age, so unfair that you had left your sister and lived with him, your selfless actions that you made with such ease, as if it was what anyone would do.

He looked at you once again, your chin up, shoulders relaxed as you started towards the door.

It was so unfair that you, like him, couldn’t just have a normal life.

You glanced at him briefly from your doorway, “Thank you for measuring me for new clothes. I’ll send up dinner to your room later.”

And that, that horrible, terrible, genuine smile that you had given him way too many times. It was those kind eyes you showed him, ones that he did not deserve in the slightest, that made him speechless, because he was so unkind, so horrible and unpleasant in every way.

So why had you always been so kind to him?

Taehyung let his hands drop to his sides, and for the first time, he saw a piece of you in him, a person with a past full of heartbreaking memories.

But where he had hidden, you had risen, and somehow, the world had lead you to him.

223 notes · View notes

deepseawanderer-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Because of You

Summary: Roselyn Parks was once in a loving relationship with Steve Rogers, but once things end, HYDRA takes her. Years later she’s back. Is she still the same Rose Steve once knew? Or did HYDRA turn her into something else entirely?

Warnings: Mentions of torture, cancer, heartbreak, angst, lots and lots of angst, Steve being kind of a douche, language, death, talk about death

Word Count ~ 6.4k

Authors Note: Ok, so this is my first time posting anything I’ve ever written and I’m honestly scared out of my mind. Let me know what you think, I have a few ideas about turning this into a series but I haven’t decided yet. Also, this fic kinda follows my own timeline from the Avengers universe. In it, Thanos was defeated, there was no snap, and everyone survived. Oh and this was slightly inspired by the song Missing by Evanescence (About 6 months after Loki’s attack on New York) 2012

“Why?” I sounded so pathetic, so broken with one simple word.

“Why? Rose, you’re joking right? You’ve completely pulled away the last six weeks. You avoid me almost entirely and you’re holding so many secrets Natasha would be impressed.” Steve ended his rant with a long sigh. “I can’t be with someone so closed off. It’s distracting me from the job I need to be doing. I can’t be worrying about you and if we’re ok when I should be focusing on missions and my teammates.”

‘So I was a distraction. I was a burden and putting people’s lives, Steve’s life, at stake. If I’m all of that now, there’s no way I can tell him.’ I thought to myself.

“We need this break Roselyn.” he kneeled down so that we were face to face. I couldn’t help but flinch when he used my full name. “Look, I have another mission I have to go on, it’ll take me about a week. Take your time, there’s no reason to get everything out in one day.” He didn’t say anything else as he left, I didn’t either. There was nothing else to say. I couldn’t be a burden any longer and if I had said anything, it would have just prolonged the torture.

I don’t know how many hours I sat at the edge of the bed. I expected to be heart broken, maybe even a little upset, but I didn’t expect to be numb. It was as if my brain was simply running on autopilot. I walked around the living space that Steve and I had shared for the last year. I picked up my favorite CD that Nat’s been begging me to borrow, I wrote down the recipe to my famous macaroni and cheese that Rhodey absolutely loves, and for Tony, I pulled out my stash of dried fruits that he would probably finish off within a day or two. “JARVIS, can you please send for a moving company to pack and have all my stuff put into storage?”

“Yes Ms. Parks, the earliest they can manage is 9 A.M. tomorrow morning. Is that sufficient?”

“Yes, that’ll be perfect. Thank you.” I packed a few suitcases of clothes, grabbed my miniature presents and headed to the communal kitchen. I placed everything on the center island and took a final look around. I guess everyone had been called away for this mission because there was no one here. I could feel the numbness cracking so I knew it was time to leave. I made it to my car and was able to drive away without any incidents, until my phone rang. My heart immediately jumped in my chest. ‘Was he calling to apologize? Did he think this was a mistake to break up? Does he still love me?’ These questions and a million more were running through my head. “Hello?” I finally answered shakily.

“Hi, my name is Brenda, I’m calling from Dr. Wilson's office,” my heart sank, “is this Roselyn Parks?”

“Yes.”

“I’m calling to confirm your chemotherapy this Thursday at 2 o’clock. My records are showing that this will be your first treatment so we recommend not to eat anything starting from midnight the night before but to try and drink plenty of fluids. I’m sure Dr. Wilson has gone over what to expect but just in case--”

“I--I understand, I’ll be there. Thank you.” I hadn’t meant to cut her off. I just didn’t want to hear everything all over again. I hung up the phone and everything seemed hit me, the damn completely crumbled and I finally broke down.

~*~

“Alright Rose, that’s it for today. How are you feeling?” Dr. Wilson was a nice man. It was obvious he cared for his patients.

“I’m doing ok, I sleep a lot and the nausea is still pretty bad, but I’ve been able to keep down some broth today. No hair loss just yet.” My lame version of a joke.

“Well with the treatments we’ve been doing these past weeks, that might change.” He made a couple of notes while the nurse unhooked from the IV. “So we will see you again, same time next week. Are you sure there is no one we can call for you? You really shouldn’t be going through this alone.” Yes, Dr. Wilson definitely cared for his patients.

“I’ll be fine Wilson, but thank you. My taxi should already be waiting for me.” I tried to smile but it probably looked more like a grimace. The last few weeks I’ve been living out of a suitcase in a hotel that was just a couple blocks away from the clinic but in those few weeks I hadn’t heard a thing from anyone. Steve I could understand keeping his distance, however, I at least thought Nat would call or text. It was total radio silence. They were probably busy saving the world and I didn’t want to distract them by calling and making a scene.

I became lost in my thoughts as I climbed into the cab and rattled off the address. I was so out of it that I didn’t notice that the man driving the cab looked nothing like the man on the license. I didn’t notice him turning right instead of left, I didn’t even notice when he slipped on a gas mask and his metal hand glistened in the sun. I only noticed when a thick white smoke started seeping out of the air vents. Before I could even ask what the hell was going on, everything went black.

~*~

My body weighed a ton. Moving was impossible, as if I was trudging through mud while trying to pull an elephant. I attempted to open my eyes but I don’t know if I succeeded or not, everything was pitch black. I could hear the squeaking of mice nearby, footsteps coming and fading away, and in the distance, if I really strained, I could hear someone screaming in agony. I really didn’t want to think about what was happening to that poor man because I knew that as soon as I started thinking about what was happening to him, I would start thinking about what they had in store for me. Whoever the hell ‘they’ were. That thought alone brought on a whole slew of questions. I was no one special, I had no money or power, I had no family to ransom, and I barely had any friends. Even my job wasn’t that exciting, I was a simple Sous Chef at a restaurant downtown, the only people who would benefit from me leaving were the ones gunning for my position and I highly doubt they’d go to these lengths to get it.

I was alone with my thoughts for what seemed like days, but was probably only a few hours, before someone came. They threw the door open and I was immediately blinded by the bright lights. It didn’t bother me long though, they helped me out by throwing a disgusting sack over my head. A pair of hands each grabbed one of my arms and yanked me to my feet, I had no strength in my body to fight, let alone in my legs to walk, so they ended up dragging me to wherever they needed me to be. The screaming I had heard earlier was getting closer and it caused a cold sweat to break across my skin. ‘Is that where they’re taking me?’ I asked myself. Thankfully we passed the screaming man just as he stopped screaming. “The wipes complete, put him on ice until we need him again.” I heard a man order. ‘On ice? What the hell does that mean?’ I didn’t get to question it for long because I was soon lead through what I assumed to be a seperate room. I heard a door behind me slam shut and was promptly thrown on and strapped down to an ice cold, metal table. I could feel all types of electrodes being stuck to every part of my body, my blood pressure being taken, and needles poking and prodding me to set up IV drips. I could feel all of this, but for some reason I still could not find my voice to say or protest anything.

“My Liebling, you’re behaving very well, maybe our time together does not have to be so bad, no?” his voice sent a shiver through my body that had nothing to do with the temperature of the table. Suddenly the bag was ripped from my head and I was blinded by a bright light shining directly at me. More electrodes were placed on my head as I attempted to blink away the blindness. “It is sad that we must meet on these types of situations, cancer is such a hard thing to fight and Dr. Wilson was right, you should not be doing it alone. We will be taking great care of you here, do not fret.”

“Why,” my voice caught in my throat making me almost cough out a lung, “why am I here.” I croaked out. “What do you want with me?”

“Sweet Liebling, did no one tell you?” He tisked. “You mean a great deal to a certain Captain and we need to be able to expose that. I believe I can make you into someone that will completely destroy him, if not physically, then mentally.” My vision was finally starting to clear up and I could finally make out my surroundings. The man talking to me had light brown hair that was neatly styled, blue eyes, and a pleasant looking face for someone so evil. The room I was in was a mix between concrete and metal, but all of it seemed to be sucking the life out of the very air. It was almost suffocating. There were other people milling around in white coats taking notes from the readings on the machines they had hooked me up to.

“Hate to break it to you asswipe, me and the Captain broke up almost two months ago. He’s completely taken me out of his life and all of the Avenger’s lives.” I don’t know where my confidence came from, but I was going to hold onto it with everything I had while I could. “You just wasted all of this time and effort on someone that the Amazing Captain America could give zero fucks about.” I let out a nice chuckle without coughing, that’s progress in my book. However, when I took a look at the man’s face, all of my confidence drained away. He looked happy, but a sick and twisted kind of happy, a dark happy that I knew meant that horrible things were now in my future.

“Now that is some great news Liebling.” he turned to a metal tray that was beside me and pulled up this bag that was filled with a weird blue-green looking mixture. He hung it up and fed it into one of the IV lines that was attached to me. “That tells me that I do not have to worry about killing you.” his smile seemed to grow sickenly bigger. “If you die, I will simply dump your body on his front door letting him know that this was all his fault. If you survive, you will be one of the strongest assets in our arsenal.” It was then that I felt the blue-green liquid entering my body. Everything was burning, my body was burning away from the inside out. I was boiling and melting all at once. It was the most intense pain I had ever felt and I couldn’t help the scream that ripped from me.

I screamed for hours, they kept replacing the bags because for some reason, my body was just soaking the damn things up. People were huddled around the room taking notes and keeping track of my vitals but I didn’t care, I just wanted the pain to stop. I had almost passed out from the pain during the second bag but they quickly shot me up with something horrible to keep me conscious. The sick bastards wanted me awake and aware of everything that they would be doing to me. “Now I want you to remember, through all of this, everything you will go through while you are with us,” the sick man playing doctor sneered at me, “it is all Captain America’s fault.”

After the 5th bag they decided they were done flooding my body with that poison and dumped me in a new room. This one was blindingly white, it reminded me of one of those rooms where they throw crazy people at insane asylums, except this one had an entire wall that was glass and none of the padding. These “doctors” wanted to be able to see what their poison would do to me. There was no bed so I made no effort to move from where they had thrown me, my body was still burning from the inside out but something else was happening. I couldn’t tell what it was, but something inside me was changing. I wasn’t necessarily feeling stronger or smarter. It was more like I felt deadly, no that’s not right either, I felt like death, as if I was turning into Death itself.

‘I am a burden,’ I thought to myself, ‘Steve was right. I am a burden and a distraction. I couldn’t even keep myself from getting kidnapped. I isolated myself and made it easy for them. I should’ve known better. Our relationship wasn’t secret by any means, I should’ve known that even with it over I would still be a target. Nat and them have to know I was taken by now and they’re going to save me and prove everything Steve said. The Doctor is wrong, it’s not Steve’s fault. It’s mine. I should’ve been stronger, I should’ve taken those self defense lessons Clint offered, I should’ve made myself better so that he wouldn’t have to worry about me. I should’ve been better at acting like everything was ok. I should’ve been better. He was right, I am a burden. I am a distraction.’

I felt something building up in my chest, something big. I took a deep breath and released everything that had been going on for the last few months, my diagnosis, the break-up, the chemo and radiation, and all this torture. I let it all out with a scream that pulled my already strained vocal cords. As I screamed, a pulse of power shot out of me turning my once pristine, white room into a rusted wasteland, the crystal clear glass was yellowed with age and covered in spider-web cracks, the doctors behind the glass were on the floor, horrible blisters and sores covering their skin. I passed out staring into their dead, bloodshot eyes, and a smile on my face.

♛

(About three years after Infinity War where Thanos was defeated and no one died) 2021

Please, please forgive me,

But I won’t be home again,

Maybe someday you’ll have woke up,

And, barely conscious, you’ll say to no one;

“Isn’t something missing?”

The music was barely a whisper in my headphones but I could hear it perfectly. I could hear everything, even with all the people crammed into the open courtyard. If I wanted to, I could listen in on any conversation that was happening in a two mile radius, but that would have to wait. There was only one conversation I was interested in eavesdropping on and it was between the two super soldiers standing up on the center stage waiting for this farce of a “peace treaty” to begin. “Come on punk, why do I have to be here? The world still views me as an evil assassin, I’m the last one that should be at a peace signing.”

“Buck, we’ve been over this, ever since Thanos, the world has realized that everyone needs to set aside their differences and work together to keep Earth safe. You are a perfect example of that, plus, you are a part of the team and we’ve all been invited to attend. Also, if I have to stand up here and do this, you bet your ass you do too.” he finished with a light laugh and big smile on his face.

You won’t cry for my absence, I know

You forgot me long ago.

Am I that unimportant?

Am I so insignificant?

Isn’t something missing?

Isn’t someone missing me?

A red faced dignitary walked up to the podium, signalling the start of the conference and the crowd began to calm down. I turned my music off and started walking towards one of the many exits, getting into position. This courtyard was actually a horrible place to be hosting a signing, too much exposure, too open. The stage for all the foreign dignitaries and the Avengers had no protection from the crowd. Sure, the courtyard was in the middle of a castle-like building, but there were too many windows to be covered. The security was a joke; they barely had a metal detector. It was child’s play to get everyone inside, if anything, these foreign dignitaries deserved what was about to happen. Just because it’s a peace treaty, doesn’t mean everyone is going to be ‘peaceful’.

I waited until he was a few minutes into his speech about finally taking the first steps towards world peace before I pulled the mirror out of my pocket and flashed it to the roof behind the stage. My men started making a small comotion, drawing the attention of everyone on stage. Everyone except for Sergeant Barnes, he had been looking my direction since I signaled with the mirror. He nudged Captain America to help him scan the area. The commotion was getting louder. The Avengers were starting to draw their weapons and herd the dignitaries to safety inside the walls. I signaled with the mirror again. Sergeant Barnes’ eyes immediately zeroed in on me as well as Captain America’s. ‘Good,’ I thought to myself, ‘he needs to see that this is all his fault.’ I kept my eyes locked with his as I descretley pulled out my handgun from my purse. I could see the gears turning in his head, he knew me somehow. Right then a shot rang out from the other side of the courtyard, people immediately dropped to the floor and screamed. Sergeant Barnes and Captain America whipped around to face where the shots came from, leaving me a perfect shot. I raised my gun and took aim. “Oh Captain, I’m disappointed,” I spoke normally but I know he heard me, his back stiffened and he turned to face me, “I thought someone would have taught you to never turn your back on a threat.” His eyes widened at the sight of the gun but it was too late, I squeezed the trigger and braced for the minimal kick back. Captain America reacted by bringing up his shield to protect his chest and head but it did no good, I wasn’t aiming that high. Yelling out in pain, he hit the floor grabbing his leg. Blood was already beginning to pool around his knee where the bullet had shattered. He would heal eventually, but until then he’d be in a lot of pain and he’ll be in even more when they have to open the wound back up to try and dig out all the shards of the hollow point bullet.

I was able to slip out just as easily as I had slipped in, all it took was some fake tears and pretending to hyperventilate and security waved me through with the rest of the crowd. I was able to branch away and sneak down a hallway towards the room they had huddled all the dignitaries into. There was one last thing I had to do before I could leave. There were no guards outside the stupidly open door but the Falcon had placed one of his drones right above it. Lucky for me, I had full view of my intended target. The red faced dignitary from the opening speech was looking a little more worse for wear. He was about the shade of a tomato, a few boils and blisters were starting to cover his face and hands, sweat was drenching his clothing, and his eyes were starting to turn a little yellow. But though the outward physical symptoms were great, there was one I had to zero in on, I strained my hearing and listened closely, blocking out every noise around me until I found the one I was looking for. It was the stuttering and faltering heartbeat of the dignitary that brought a smile to my face and confirmed that today was a success. By the time the medics made it to him, he was long dead and I was in my car speeding away with my music blasting and happily singing along.

Even though I’m the sacrifice,

You won’t try for me, not now.

Though I’d die to know you love me,

I’m all alone.

Isn’t someone missing me.

~*~

“I want a full break down of what the hell happened today. How did so many hostiles manage to get in without so much as a blimp on the security? Tony! What good are your scanners if they can’t even pick up hand guns?” Bucky was barking out as they rushed Steve’s gurney into the med wing.

“Buck, calm down.” Steve managed to groan out. “I’m fine, everyone is fine.”

“Not everyone Cap,” Natasha matched Bucky’s long strides, “Ambassador Berkley is dead, official ruling is a stroke.”

“And the non-official?” he asked. His stomach dropped slightly at the thought of someone dying on his watch.

“Poison. They’re running a tox screen now to figure out exactly what type but it may take a day or two.”

“Perfect,” Bucky cut in, “the punk here can use that time to explain to me how he knew the broad that literally blew out his knee.” Much to Steve’s relief, Dr. Cho came through the doors right as Bucky was crossing his arms, expecting an answer, and shooed them all away so that they could work on getting all the shrapnel out.

The procedure was only two hours but Steve was in hell the entire time. His body kept burning through any sedative they gave him, no matter how strong they made it. Dr. Cho didn’t want to risk an overdose, so Steve insisted on continuing without one. So when the screaming finally stopped, nothing was going to keep Bucky out of that hospital room. Steve had been there for him countless times, it was Bucky’s turn to be there for him. He just had to get some answers first.

“I thought I was supposed to be the heartbreaker punk. You were supposed to be America’s ‘Golden Boy’.” Steve tried to bury himself further into the bed in hopes of disappearing. “Yet here you are, broke some gal’s heart so bad that she put a bullet through your knee.” When he didn’t get any response Bucky sighed and sat at the edge of the bed. “Just give me a name to start with. We need to know who she is and what kind of contacts she has to be able to pull something like this off.”

“She wouldn’t do this Buck. She was a simple chef, we never even should have--”

“I don’t need the whole story yet, we can do that later. Right now I just need her name.”

“Roselyn Marie Parks.” Steve answered in a defeated sigh. “But I swear to you Buck, you’re not going to find anything.”

“I know you have more experience with it, but I wouldn’t count FRIDAY out just yet.” They settled into a somewhat comfortable silence, at least on Bucky’s end. He was reading an old book, the pages worn from use, the corners dog eared over and over again, simply enjoying the quiet. Steve on the other hand, he was lost. Lost in his own whirlwind of thoughts. What was she doing there? Was she really with that group of thugs? She had hated guns and yet shot him without hesitation. What had happened to change all that? Could the breakup really be what made her dark? He didn’t think it was possible, there was no way someone as innocent as Rose could’ve gone dark with just a breakup.

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, Ms. Romanoff has requested your immediate presence at the labs.” FRIDAY interrupted the silence, startling Steve and Bucky so much that he dropped his book.

“Jeeze FRIDAY, med wing is supposed to be quiet. You’re going to give someone a heart attack.” Bucky grumbled. “Steve can’t go anywhere, he just had surgery. If Natasha wants us, she can come up.”

“Barnes, Captain,” Nat almost sneered his title, “if you don’t come down here, I will drag you down myself.” it wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.

“Nat, come on, Steve just--”

“Barnes, the Captain is going to come down here. If his leg is still an issue I’d be happy to cut it off for him.” her tone made no room for arguments. Whatever she needed them for was big and Steve had a rotten feeling in his gut he knew exactly what it was about.

They made it down to the labs with minimal hardships. Steve was only slightly limping because he absolutely refused to use the cane Bucky and Dr. Cho handed him. Part of it was Sam and Clint would never let him hear the end of it if they saw him walking around with a cane and the other part of it was because he walked slower without the cane and he wanted to do everything in his power to stall what he knew was about to happen. As they turned the corner and the labs came into view, Steve’s heart hit the floor. Their looks said it all, they knew. Tony was almost red with fury and Nat was trying to hide her pain through a mask of rage, but the hurt was easily seen in her eyes. The others looked on, confused to why they were so upset. Tony pointed to a chair that was situated in front of everyone and a bunch of screens. Rose’s smiling face was plastered everywhere. Her hazel eyes shining with glee as she was captured mid laugh, her wavy chocolate hair was thrown in a messy bun and her face had speckles of flour everywhere. Steve remembered that day, she had tried to teach him how to bake and it had somehow turned into a miniature food fight. They had made a huge mess, but the cookies they had made were some of the best ones he had ever had. “Let’s get everyone on the same page here Cap.” Tony finally spoke. “How do you know our shooter, Roselyn Parks?”

“We dated. We were together for almost two years. She had just finished moving in with me when New York happened. After a few months she started pulling away from me so I broke it off. I haven’t seen her since. Not until the assembly. But you all have to understand--” Tony cut him off.

“Tell Nat why she wasn’t able to contact Rose. Tell me why none of us were able to at least call her and make sure she was ok. She wasn’t actually ignoring any of the calls or messages, was she?” he felt Bucky stiffen up behind him, probably not liking the way Tony was interrogating him right now but he deserved their hostility.

“No, I had JARVIS reroute all incoming and outgoing messages. She never knew. I had thought it would be easier for her if we were all out of her life for good.” he was barely speaking above a whisper, after all this time he was finally able to see how stupid that had been. “JARVIS would alert me whenever she would call. I never had the nerve to listen to the voicemails.”

“You still have them?” Nat was beyond shocked. What kind of spy was she if she never questioned Rose’s sudden disappearance. She had thought they were friends. She thought that Rose was actively trying to avoid them. She should have tried harder to talk to her. At Nat’s question, Steve nodded and dropped his head. Yes, he had kept all the voicemails, emails, text messages, everything she had tried to contact them was tucked away in a flash drive hidden in his room.

“We’ll get to that in a minute Cap, right now let’s do a little reading exercise shall we? I’m going to bring up a page and you’re going to read it. Every. Single. Word.” Tony didn’t wait for a response, instead he brought up a couple documents on one of the screens and expanded it so that everyone could see it. “Go ahead Cap, tell us what you see.”

“The first one is a general bio about Rose. Born July 20th, 1989. Lived in Texas, California, Arizona, Florida, and New York. Job history, every kitchen she’s worked at.”

“Keep going.”

“The next page is…” his heart shattered, “No, this can’t be right.” Steve looked around the room. This had to be a joke of some kind. A cruel and horrible joke. “It’s a missing persons report? But that’s not right, this was filed around two months after the break up. I was still getting notified about calls years after that.”

“I said, keep going.” Tony’s voice was harsh and unforgiving. Steve paled and choked on his words when he saw the next page.

“She was presumed dead?” Bucky asked instead. “What the hell’s goin on? Steve said he was getting calls years afterwards. How is that possible?”

“I’m going to ignore that question based on the soul fact that we have two people in this room that were presumed dead for 70 years and are still alive and kicking. One of ‘em may not be for much longer though. Instead I’m going to ask you to focus on a certain name. Look who filed the missing person’s report and signed her death certificate.” Two boxes on the screens highlighted the area Tony was talking about and zoomed in on them. “A Dr. James Wilson. Do you know Dr. Wilson Cap? Do you know what he specializes in? No? He’s an oncologist. She had cancer, a brain tumor actually.” he waved his hands around the screen and a bunch of medical files popped up. “She had been seeing him for about 4 months before she was reported missing. Doc said there was no way she’d survive 6 months without treatment so when she stopped showing up for appointments, he knew something was wrong. He knew. A stranger knew something was wrong. But her friends? Her supposed friends that could have actually done something to help her? We had no damn clue.” His eyes were beginning to water.

“Boss, the decryptions and translations are completed.” FRIDAY’s announcement stopped Tony from continuing.

“Bring it all up.” He turned to Steve. “FRIDAY found some files talking about Rose, files from HYDRA.” Bucky visibly stiffened at the name. It had been years since he’d been under their control, but the nightmares and scars from what they did would never go away.

“They wanted to use her to destroy Steve.” Nat grabbed a tablet and started going through all the information. “They figured he wouldn’t be able to fight against the woman he loved. Once they learned about the break up they went a different route.” She swiped around, none of the pictures were of her. They were all of dead bodies, bodies covered in lumps and sores, eyes bloodshot, and faces frozen in terror. “These people look exactly like Ambassador Berkley when he was pronounced. Rose did all of this?” What had they done to her? She continued to swipe through the information. “They have videos.” her hand froze above the tablet. Did they want to see what they did to her? Could they handle it? Tony didn’t wait for an invitation, he brought up the first clip and played it. It showed Rose in a rusted over, metal looking cell. Her ankle was shackled to the wall, there was a dingy mattress on the floor, a bucket in the opposite corner, and her and her clothes were covered in cuts and dirt. A man walked into the room, handed Rose a cell phone, careful not to touch her, and walked back out. Rose looked dumbfounded at the phone. She repeatedly looked between the phone, the door, and back. After a few seconds she quickly unlocked the phone and brought it up to her ear. The look on her face was pure hope, at least it was for a few seconds.

“S-Steve, it’s me.” her voice was almost a whisper and sounded so broken. “I don’t know what happened, but HYDRA got to me. You have to listen to me when I say this, don’t come and get me. I don’t know what they’re playing at, they gave me my phone back and just walked away. It has to be a trap. Please, don’t do anything stupid, I’m not worth it.” At this point she was crying. “You were right, I was a distraction, I should’ve been better. I’ll be ok though, I know I won’t last long in here, I never had much time to begin with. Take care of yourself ok? Tell Nat to let Clint win a spar every now and again and tell Rhodey that he better not share my recipe with anyone ok? And talk to Tony, he’s struggling, I know he is. He’s just acting like he’s fine but please try and talk to him. Goodbye.” As soon as she hung up the phone, the door burst open and four men rushed in. One took the phone away, two pinned her down, and the last one secured her hands in a metal box before unlocking her ankle. They dragged her out kicking and screaming.

The video cut out and the room was surrounded in silence. Sam was about to tell Tony to stop, there was no need to see all the videos, it would just torture them, but Nat played the next one before he could even finish his thought. It started the same way as the first one, the only difference was that Rose’s hair was a few inches longer. They couldn’t get a good look at her face though and were slightly thankful for that. “Steve.” her voice was strained this time, as if she had been screaming. “I don’t know why they keep making me do this. I don’t know what I want anymore. I don’t want to be here, the things they’re making me do, the things they’re doing to me…” she took the phone away from her for a second, took a deep breath, and continued on, “I want to be selfish and ask you to come save me but I won’t. Stay away from here, wherever here is, but don’t come. Don’t send the team. Don’t put anyone in danger trying to get me out. I won’t last much longer, I know it. Hopefully this is actually goodbye this time.”

This time it was Rhodes who played the next video. “What did I do wrong Steve? What did I do to deserve this? You’ve abandoned me and I want to know why!” Rose was crying and screaming in hysterics. “Please get me out, please, please. I can’t take this anymore. I wasn’t supposed to still be alive. They did something to me. I was supposed to be dead by now. Please Steve, I can’t do it anymore. Please.” she was so broken. When the men came to drag her away, she didn’t put up a fight at all.

The next video played. “You fucking asshole! This is all your fault! How could you think-No, screw that. You didn’t! You don’t think about anyone besides yourself and your fucking Avenging bullshit. I’m in here being tortured on a daily basis, experimented on all damn day, being turned into who knows what and you’re fucking ignoring my pleas for help!” Rose took the phone and threw it against one of the cell walls. When the doors slammed open, she let loose a rage filled yell and shoved her hand into the face of the first man through the door. Smoke immediately started raising from the contact, his face started breaking out in sores, and within a few seconds he dropped to the floor, most likely dead, his bloodshot eyes and face were frozen in terror. Before she could get her hands on one of the other guards, she was hit with a cattle prod, effectively electrocuting her and incapacitated her long enough to get her hands back in the metal box and dragged out of the room.

“No more, please don’t make me watch anymore.” Steve hadn’t even tried to keep the tears back once the first video started playing. He could only pray that they would take some type of mercy on him and not play anymore. Sam took the tablet from Nat, she was too shell shocked to put up a fight. He swiped through the videos and landed on the last one.

“I know why they’ve been forcing me to make these calls.” her voice was even, cold, calculated. “Did you know that my phone has been on this entire time? GPS enabled and everything. You could’ve found me the second they took me. But you didn’t, they were right. They said no one cared about me, no one would notice I was gone, no one would miss me. They’ve been trying to break me for two years now, I don’t know how I held out this long.” there was a long stretch of silence. “I killed 8 people today. I didn’t even have to touch them. I wish I could say that I feel some kind of remorse but I don’t feel much of anything anymore. I know I’ve said this before, but now I mean it, this will be my final goodbye. They don’t need to prove their point anymore. I’m forgotten, alone. They finally won.” Rose hung up the phone and held it out towards the door. This time only one man came in, he gingerly took the phone and motioned her towards the door. With a defeated sigh, she walked through them willingly.

♛

#avengers #steve rogers #captain america #marvel #avengers x ofc #avengers fanfiction #avengers fanfic #marvel fandom #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes #winter soldier

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smallblanketfort · 7 years ago

Text

reasons not to

i asked followers and friends to tell me why they’re alive. why they stayed. this is what happened.

the world is beautiful, like, breathtakingly, stunningly, dashingly, spectacularly, exasperatingly beautiful. every wall dirty with paint and ornate with mud and graffiti, all the moldy trees and infuriating insects, all the contorted perfect faces around the world, the decaying and the rising, whatever dichotomy that comes to life and anything that grows according to the plan is beautiful. and it breaks my heart that i will never see all the beauty in the world, but at least i gotta try.

I’m staying alive because I am not ready to be forgotten. This universe has existed for 14 billion years and will continue to exist for at least 14 billion more. In this grand scale, I get an average of 70 years, if I’m lucky. I will not be forgotten. I will do everything it takes to make a difference, to create, to grow and to cherish. I will not be forgotten.

tbh, the main reason i keep myself clean and alive is that i know my family wouldn't be able to take it if i didn't. everyone in my family either has psychological issues or strong tendencies to develop them, and the reason we all keep going, i believe, is because we know we have to be there for each other, otherwise everyone will fall. and i know it's kinda sad and maybe a little unhealthy sometimes but it's how we've worked for the longest time, and hey, we're still here, right?

I’ve stayed alive for my gay ambitions. I wanna kiss a girl! While sober! I’ve had 2 kisses while drunk but I don’t remember one and it sucks. I wanna be confident enough to kiss a girl without anything helping. Also one of those girls was straight and kissing me for attention from her gross boyfriend, I’d like to avoid that situation again lol. But yeah, gayness. Fuckin wild my dude. Gotta shoot my shot and get some lip-lock ya feel?

i reached out for help a while ago to a teacher and if it weren’t for him i might not have made it. he’s said so many things and tells me that i matter, i’m worth it, i deserve to be happy, and he wished he had a daughter like me. it makes me cry knowing that he puts effort into making sure i’m okay, and that’s what keeps me going. i want to make sure his efforts don’t go to waste.

I'm still alive for going out with friends on nights like this. Hearing the birds wake up. Seeing neon lights and stars. That even when I feel so lonely, so alone, I can at least see my friends have fun and lose myself in the music.

I want to be clean because then at least i know i can do it. I've only stayed clean for a few months and then relapsed. If i can make it to a year, then at least i know i can do another and then another and then another and maybe even not deal with it at all anymore. I just want to beat this for good.

my mom’s battled depression her whole life, and last fall i broke down sobbing and started telling her about how mine had been festering in secret for so long. and she started telling me about all the pain she never thought would bridge the mother-daughter divide and how she wanted to breathe in the shadows like smoke to keep them from burning my skin. sometimes at night we crawl into each others beds and carry the weight together when our arms have started giving out. i stay alive for her.

The thing that kept me here most was knowing that my life is not really my own. No one is purely self- contained. To end my own life would be to alter dozens. So, to counter my own feeling of worthlessness, I invested my time in things that I knew had a net positive impact on the world. The more objectively positive meaning that I gave to my life made it harder to argue that I should kill myself. What would my parents do? What would my also suicidal younger brother do? We're probably a package deal in this regard. Same with some students I lead a mental health group with. I had set an example to them, and I can't fail that hard without risking their well being.

Simply, my boyfriend. It started with him physically hiding anything I could use to hurt myself. Over time, with his support, I learned some self worth and improved so much. Now those things don't have to be hidden. Even now that he's gone for a year and a half and our contact is limited to a 20 minutes phone call a day and letters, I find I'm still stable enough to stay alive and clean. He taught me how to be safe even without him and that's worth everything.

I stuck around because for some reason, something was telling me to check things out until I'm 30. When I was a kid, I imagined myself getting older all the time. When I wanted to die, I couldn't see anything past the age I was in, 19. I was both so scared and so sad for my innocence, but apparently, it never left me. Because, even though I couldn't /see/ myself beyond 19, my body made me feel like I could. Did that make sense? I'm 24 now. So far I'm glad I stuck around.

Don't want to sound conceited, but there was a kid at church who just loved me. She was like my tail. Although, I think I learned from her more than she learned from me. We both spent the whole day in church because of various activities I was involved in and because her parents were in the choir for all the services. We were always together when there was nothing for me to do-- she talked a lot. I loved hearing what she had to say. That's why I didn't. I looked forward to her growth every week

I'm alive because of the Oscar's. A few years ago a theater was showing all the nominated movies, and my mom and I went to see Manchester by the Sea. It's a sad movie, about an accident that killed some kids, but it affected my mom a lot more than me. I remember walking back to the car and her talking about how she probably wouldn't be able to go on if one of her kids died. I still can't imagine a future, but so far I'm here and tthinking about that conversation in that parking structure.

i stayed alive because i couldn’t choose which sunrise would be my last.

My family, friends, and God keep me here. If it weren't for them, I might have committed suicide or at least harmed myself because I was so overwhelmed with the world and hated myself for how far I went into sin. I might be in prison because I was heading down a path that could have lead to illegal things. God has always pulled me back in and my family has always been there to talk to. A couple of friends have helped a lot too. I also hate inflicting pain on myself and others, so that has kept me here as well .I am still coming out of certain sins and I am still recovering, but I have hope now in Christ and hope for a better future. I still get overwhelmed and perplexed by this world, but I have support and I know that God is working in my life which will allow me to help others hopefully.

i’m alive because of the little things. seeing your plants flower, the dew in the morning, low hanging clouds in the mountains, the smell of warm dirt after it rains, the tingling feeling of your fingers warming up after going numb.

A fear of hurting my mum, sisters and best friend is the biggest factor in me staying. There have been so many times that I've thought - known - they'd be better off without me, but I know they won't see it like that, and will just be hurt. Personal vanity and the hope I can accomplish the projects I've dreamed of finishing also keeps me going.

On most days, staying clean is the hope that I can be used by the Lord in the lives of people who have been through the same thing—that one day I can look at someone and say, “I made it through… you can too.” On the nights I almost relapse, I think of the girls I’m discipling and the witness I have for Christ and wrestle with the effects of one hasty decision—and five years down the drain. The staying alive thing is a little more complicated sometimes. For the most part, it’s because I’ve personally seen the impact of suicide—both in my family and friendships. However, sometimes that’s not good enough. And, as pathetic as it seems, there are times when my cat is the only reason I’m still here. Phteven has super high anxiety, is afraid of most everyone (myself excluded), and is, generally, pretty high maintenance because of all his fears. No one in their right mind would take care of him if I were gone. So, on the darkest nights of my life, I’ve honestly stayed because I think my cat would end up at a shelter, and he would 100% have a heart attack because of the anxiety (which written out sounds really silly, but there ya go.) In general, however, it’s the knowledge of the impact it would have—regardless of how well I perceived to be loved or cared for.

For me the hope of tomorrow, there is always a new day. Ive always been an optimist and even in my darkest moments, hope keeps me grounded. Romans 8:18, Psalm 51:10 & Hebrews 6:19 have been verses that have helped me through to the point i have an anchor tattoo with Steadfast across it.

While some of these may sound dumb, they’ve kept me going all these years: all the books I’ll be able to read some day. all the movies/tv shows/music I’ll get to watch/listen to. All the laughs with my crazy friends. All the laughs with my crazy family. The possibility of road trips and vacations. The possibility of writing a book of my own. Falling in love. Being best friends with my sister. Loving my niece to pieces. Smelling the air after it’s just rained, and/or after the grass has been cut. Seeing the first snowfall every year. Seeing the corn and beans sprouting every spring. Sitting on a porch when I’m old. Having grandchildren to tell all your crazy stories to. And laughing. So much laughing. 😌

my reason to stay alive is my friends. they needed me to keep going, to keep pushing through every dark night. I know just how devastating it would be if one of my plans actually did work. since my dad passed away, every day was getting harder and harder to get through, until eventually i just didn't want to even live for the new morning. it's only been a few months now since the suicidal thoughts and the urge to self harm has left, but I think what got me through the worst of it was the unrelenting support of my friends. they were there for me through every breakdown, every panic attack and every dark thought. I genuinely don't think I'd be here today without their support- their kindness is what kept me going. I've worked hard for three years now on my mental health, I've been going to counselling and seeking support from other people. I've taken self care with open arms and its made such a difference. reaching out for help was so hard but it was so so worth it. I've reached my 18th birthday, a milestone I never thought i could ever achieve- yet here I am proving every horrible thought my brain spews up wrong. I'm so thankful I never gave up, because each day now - while sometimes still a struggle, shows me how the world has a little light bearing through even when things seem to be going shit. my lovely friends, my art and music is what wakes me up every morning and motivates me to sleep at night. life does get better.

In the past it was always my sister and brother. I always kept going and stayed here just so one day I could find them and we could be together. Be a family. I loved them since the moment I met them. Though my sister was only three and didn't speak English at the time only French. Of course I only knew English. My brother was to be born very soon. I was instantly in love. To know that I had them. They were my world. They held me together. Even though for the next 13 years we would not see each other for unfair reasons. Now 22 years later what keeps me here has changed only slightly. My sister and my father are what keep me here. For a very different reason now though. Four years ago my little brother, the one I was just speaking of, was murdered. Along with his girlfriend and her sister. I keep going because right now I can't let my dad suffer the loss of two children. I can't let the sweetest sister in the world lose two siblings. I can't let them down. I have to stay strong. I have to keep going. It's exhausting most days, and it gets harder as time goes on. So I fight back more to keep going because I love them and I know they love me.

I guess for me -- the reason I stayed is because I almost didn't stay, and it was the total grace of God that I'm here. At the time I thought I would have stayed for my family, or my friends, or my future -- but I totally could not see any of that other than the continuous hurt I thought I was inflicting on them. I had a really bad fall semester at my university that led me to eventually take a much needed and helpful medical leave my spring semester;; but the first time that I really almost did it I was breaking down on the top floor of a parking garage at my university, begging that God would actually see me and wanting prayer but not knowing where to go and not wanting to "burden" anyone I knew. As this was happening, this guy walks to the top of the garage and sees me - comes over to where I was sitting, asks if I'm okay and gives me a hug, and asks if he could pray for me (and my university is not even religious at *all*). He literally slept in a booth across from me and stayed with me all night as I finished my homework, and he walked with me to class the next day. In the midst of everything that I was a bit of hope. Towards the very end of the semester, I had seriously made the decision I was going to do it and went about with all what I thought were my parting arrangements -- the next morning when I was going to leave he sends me a text and shows up at my dorm, telling me he was praying for me and wanted to stay with me that day until I left to go back home to Pittsburgh where I'd be for my medical leave. Both of those times I actually didn't see a reason to stay -- but God did. And it took some time for that to really sink in... that God wants me to stay. That he wouldn't let me go. And that has been a massive reason why I stay now. In addition to that, through this healing season I have relearned the beauty of family and friendship, and how much love there actually is surrounding me -- and now, I look around and I appreciate it that much more because it was almsot never there. Knowing that God never gave up and there *actually was* soooooo much love and life on the other side of this that I was convinced I would never see gives me so much hope to keep holding on and to not listen to the lies that there is no good for me or my future. I don't want to live my life out of guilt or fear of what will happen to me or my friends/family after I'm gone -- but I guess that is a part of it, seeing many friends die from preventable causes and the damage it does puts things into perspective. But I'd say my main reason for staying is knowing that life really is worth it and precious when I can't see it, because I know what it's like to make it out the other side and understand how tightly God holds onto us when we don't want to even hold on anymore.

I stayed alive because I didn't know there was another option. I was young. I stayed alive because I didn't want my sister to have to live as someone with that kind of hole in her life. I stayed alive because there was always some upcoming performance and my company is too small for understudies or alternates. I stayed alive because there was always someone not quite as steady who relied on me to do so. Only now, finally, I can stay alive because I want to.

Reasons I stay alive: the love of the people close to me, and the knowledge that with age we get better. Anxieties lessen and dissipate, confidence grows, skills develop and things generally become clearer.

Ive been thinking about this post quite a lot, Haha. Mostly, it’s because I don’t want to give up. I want to prove to myself and my loved ones that I’m so much stronger than I think I am and I’d like to show the bullies of my past that I’m stronger than they think. Also, my family and friends and boyfriend keep me here. There’s so much see in the future, and I sometimes just... hold on to that. I lost touch with one of my best friends for years and I’m just too glad to have her back in my life since last year and I know (haha this sounds selfish I guess, but she told me haha) that she’s so glad about it as well. There’s so many things I want to achieve and things to see. I mean - about three weeks ago, said best friend and I met our childhood hero and I just kept thinking “man, I’m so glad I stayed”.

it’s on my blog too x and twitter

#mental health #suicide #anxiety #depression #thesproutclub on twitter + ig #stay alive #still alive #important #stories

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xxelijahxxscottxx · 6 years ago

Text

i wanna see you be brave|darco

Who: @sshardassanderson && @southsidefranco

Where: Franco’s hospital room

When: 19th January in the morning.

Info: Dare makes good in his promise to visit Franco.... Lots of fluff, a confession and a dream come true.

Word Count: 3,378

Trigger warnings: None (I think).... Fucko crying.... Lots of angst!

@sshardassanderson in ITALIC & @southsidefranco in BOLD

After going over to Blaine’s for the night to recharge from the nonsense of yesterday, Dare got up early to make sure he could make good on his promise. He showered and dressed in the minimal clothing he had left over at Blaine’s and started over to the hospital where he’d last left his brothers. Every floor had at least one Serpent skulking around, keeping an eye on things in case any of the fuckheads from yesterday decided to try some shit again. It wasn’t likely given that they’d really have to make a scene to get to Franco, but it was worth sending a few snakes in. Once in Franco’s room, Dare talked Cujo out for a few so they could talk and the taller Serpent could clean himself up a bit. He lightly tapped Franco’s hand, not really eager to wake him, but knowing they should talk. “Hey man. It’s Dare.”

Franco wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep but he knew it was in the early hours of the morning. He had woken throughout the night many times, nightmares consuming him every time he had tried to close his eyes. When he felt someone tap his hand, he jumped, his body aching with the movement. His eyes shoot open, and through the little gap he had, he could make out a man before he heard that it was Dare. He gulped and pulled his hand backwards, Dare should be able to touch him, the man had saved him, why was he so scared. He sighed, "True to your word. Hey Dare" he breathed.

“Easy easy,” Dare’s first thought was to restrain, but given the litany of injuries he held back and just moved back a little to avoid backlash. He kept away from Franco’s hand. He could sympathize with not wanting to be touched. “Hey you’re okay...” Dare murmured, keeping his hands to the side of the hospital bed instead. “Hey Fracko. Nice to see you’re awake in person. Gotta say, you’re still better looking than me. Despite the circumstances.” It was a weak attempt at lightning the mood, but he hoped it might gain some traction. “How are you feeling? Alejandro come see you?”

Franco took a few deep breathes and watched Dares hands. He felt terrible making him keep away, especially as Cujo had held his hand all night. He tried to laugh at the joke but it sounded choked, "Fracko" he whispered, "That's a different name. I've always been better looking then you". He felt himself tense and shiver as his body woke up and the pain seemed to wake with it, "I feel like shit. He came last night but I freaked out. He had a syringe. Pain relief or something but I couldn't let him near me". His hand was twitching on the bed, why had refused the help?

Dare frowned lightly, leaning on the guardrail of the bed. He wanted to comfort, that was part of his compulsive need to fix everything. But he needed to leave that part to Cujo. “I know you’re worried about the syringes my man, and if it was a rando I could get it. But Alejandro is trustworthy. If I remember, in order to make it go in faster, it goes in the IV.” He gestured to the needle in Franco’s hand. “And morphine is hella nice. Think maybe you can give it another try? I don’t want you to be in so much pain even opening your eyes hurts.”

Franco shook his head, "Its not. I don't know him. He might be a doctor but, Dare I can't" he forced out, fighing back tears, he didn't need everyone to see him cry. He gulped, "They said that it was nice, that I would just sleep but it didn't. I can't. I don't want to sleep. I'm scared of what happens if I close my eyes". He felt weak, felt pathetic... Dare was his leader, "I gotta be brave and strong, like a real serpent would".

“Hey hey hey,” Dare leaned back over a little more. “Shh. Listen to me. Even brave and strong Serpents have their moments of weakness. And you have gone through a lot of shit. This isn’t just ‘Franco got a boo boo’. These aren’t baby injuries. You endured six days of hell and lived to tell the tale. I don’t know that all of us could’ve done the same. So what about that makes you think that you’re not strong? That you’re not brave?” Dare sat back down, looking into his companion’s face sternly. “I could kill every last one of them for what they did to you. But I can promise you that until you do feel safe again, you’re not gonna be alone.”

Franco gulped as he listened to what Dare said, "I don't think I could have gone much longer" he nodded, "Bravery comes from those who fight. Not those who try and run and fail all the same". He regretted every day not trying to fight again but he had been tipsy, "I was just tipsy and didn't think it was something I could win". He watched Dare sit back and shook his head, "No revenge. It'll make it worse". He looked up at the door, at Cujo stood outside, "I don't think he'd leave me if you forced him".

“It probably wasn’t. It sounds like these guys were paid professionals. I mean...who jumps someone wearing a fucking suit?” Dare shrugged slightly. “Bravery comes from those who are smart enough to know when to fight or flee. You were outnumbered. And these guys were professionals. You could’ve been killed right then and there. Honestly if you weren’t so hurt right now I’d bop you on the head for being so dense. If instead of it being you it was Julian, would you be telling him he was cowardly and didn’t try?”

Franco nodded, "I think they worked for whoever owned that casino" he spoke. He didn't really know who owned it but he knew why he was kidnapped. Franco sighed and nodded, "I think being killed in the forest would have been kinder then what they did" he admitted. He listened to him talk about Julian, "That's not fair Dare" he breathed, "Julian's different".

“No, it’s the same exact thing. J is a bit younger but he’s no different than all the things you’re calling out. He’s a Serpent. Not every one of us is going to be a Cujo. Sure...he probably would’ve went down swinging.” Dare paused briefly, gathering his thoughts. “In your position I don’t know that I would’ve fought back either. I probably would’ve tried to run instead. Outnumbered by guys in god damn suits. They could’ve had guns.” He reaches over, cautiously and gingerly brushing his hair back. “You did what you could with the time you had.”

"Julian is smaller and no offense, doesn't exactly have as much muscle as me. He would have had to run". Franco sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, when would he stop blaming himself. "I'm not even sure what they had. I know they had some rag that made me feel sleepy". He watched as Dare reached up and moved his hair. His whole body tensed but he didn't push away. He held his breath and fought through it, "Why is it so hard for you to touch me? Cujo does all the time".

“Because I’m not Cujo.” Dare explained with a shrug, bringing his hands back away. “I’m not somebody you’ve been intimate with or shared anything deeply personal with. It’s not the same kind of connection that you have with me. I’m your friend, your family, but I’m not that kind of family.” Dare grabbed a cup of ice water that was sitting next to the bed with a straw sticking out of it and brought it over, offering it, not forcing. “You gotta stop beating yourself up for this. Nobody got hurt. Whether or not we could have is irrelevant because no one did. And most importantly, we got you home. Water?”

Those 4 words hit Franco like a sack of bricks. They were true and accurate. Dare wasn't Cujo. No one was. No one could compare to how he felt about that man. He finally broke and let the tears roll down his cheek, "God, what am I putting him through? How must he be feeling?" he spoke softly. He looked at the straw and nodded, leaning forward slightly to sip the straw, "Water is good" he nodded.

Dare offered an understanding, cautious smile, making sure that Franco had his fill of water before he set the cup back aside. “He’s right outside the door. And what he’s feeling is probably relief. You’re putting him through relief that he still managed to hold your hand and see you looking at him again. And soon he’ll hear you laugh and smile and you guys can do a bunch of fucking around.” He straightened up a little, cracking his back before standing up. “How about I get him back in?”

Franco shook his head quickly, "No" he whispered. He knew he had to tell Cujo how he felt and he wasn't ready, "I'm not ready Dare" he hurried. He looked at the cup and tried to lift his arm to reach it himself but the side effects of all the drugs were how weak his limbs felt, "More water please".

“Alright, I can stay longer.” Dare sat back down and gathered the cup, bringing it back over to Franco’s lips with the straw. “Seriously don’t worry about it, okay? I know it’s going to take you some time to get through this and that’s okay too. But I want you to stop focusing on where you think you failed.” He waited until Franco had his fill before putting the cup aside again. “I’m your leader, right? You’re not going anywhere. Whether or not you think you were cowardly, it’s my call on who gets to be a Serpent. You’re not going anywhere, my brother. You got me?”

Franco took the water gratefully and he nodded at Dare's words, "Yeah, it's gunna take a while. My injuries could take up to eight weeks too heal. I'm hoping to be out of here by the end of the week" he stated. He hated hospitals, "Who owned the casino?" he asked. The question was burning at him, he wanted answers, "Thanks Dare. I like being a serpent. It's the only family I have".

“That’s why you’re not gonna be going on any missions either. You’re going to stay with someone at all times. A Serpent. And you’re going to make sure you relax and take care of yourself.” Dare frowned a bit. “The Clarington family. And before you start getting your own revenge boner, Hunter is the one who figured out where you where and helped us save your life. Clarington Senior is the one responsible.”

Franco nodded, "I'm not ready for missons" he agreed. He sighed, "When I come home, I'm going to stay with Cujo. He said I could and I don't know. I think I'm in love with him Dare". The words escaped before he could stop them and he cursed himself for it. He raised an eyebrow though, "Claringtons? Hunter helped? Are they in jail?"

Dare hardly hesitated at the confession, flashing a light smirk. “I think you’re the last person to figure that out. Maybe second to last because I think Gigantor out there doesn’t realize it either. Maybe that’s something you two need to explore together, yeah?” He gestured to the applesauce left aside too. “You wanna try to eat a little? As far as the Clarington’s...nothing right now. You know how shitty this police force is. They didn’t even officially arrest Adrien Smythe after we found that recording.”

Franco's jaw dropped slightly, "You knew?" he asked hesitantly. How had everyone known before him, "Cujo doesn't know, of course he doesn't know. He'd probably never look at me again. Run a mile or something". Franco looked at the apple sauce and sighed, "I want to eat but I can wait till Cujo comes back, if you want?". The idea of needing help with the smallest things until the drugs wore off embarrassed him. He nodded, "I should have known the answer to that question. He'll get away with it won't he?"

“Of course I knew. The way you two blockheads are around each other? I’d have to be blind.” Dare chuckled. “And I doubt he’d run a mile. It’s not like you guys don’t already fuck. But I’ll let you sort that one out yourself. So, your secret’s safe with me.” He considered for a moment, silent in his thoughts. “After we found you the other day I...looked up your sister. Isabella, right? She’s cute.” He shrugged. “I told her you were hurt. She’d...liked to hear from you. Gave me her new cell phone number.”

Franco gave the tiniest laugh, "Cujo isn't a relationship kind of guy but I will tell him. No matter how much it hurts". He gulped and nodded, "Thank you. Our secret until I've said all that needs saying". Franco's eyes widened and he felt like he couldn't breathe, "Isabella" he breathed, "You... you got her to contact you? My Izzy" he asked, confusion and emotions lacing every word, "You have her number? Dare" and he started to cry again, "Keep it. Until I'm home. Please".

“Hey hey hey what did I say about getting worked up?” Dare demanded, though his tone didn’t raise, not wanting to escalate the situation. “Breathe. You’re gonna make it hard to breathe if you cry with those fucked up ribs.” He tried to soothe the situation as best as possible before Cujo fucking kicked down the door and threw him out. “Yeah. I got in touch. She...she’s worried about you. Wants to talk to you when you’re feeling up to it. After she heard you were in the hospital it opened her up a bit. Relax.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down when you contacted my sister who I tried to contact for years Darius” Franco said, though it was getting harder to breathe. “I don’t care about my ribs, you have. A number for my freaking sister. I’ve been dying to speak to her for 3 fucking years”. He tried to control his breathing, his hand searching for something to hold as he did, “Fuck Darius”

“I’m telling you to calm down because if you still wanna talk, you can’t have your lungs collapsing. And Cujo will actually throw me out of here if that happens. So breathe. C’mon, dude.” He sat up and gripped Franco’s struggling hand. “Try and take a slow, deep breath for me, or I’m gonna have to leave.”

Franco gripped Dares hand as hard as he could. It wasn’t hard at all but it made him feel something. He took deep breathes in and out, the pain in his ribs making him squeeze his eyes shut. He hated this. He hated being sick and he hated being injured. His lungs were already fucked from the broken ribs and Dare was right, he didn’t need to make it worse, “Dare, I can’t thank you enough for it” he started, “But I can’t have that number until I’m better. It will kill me hearing her voice like this”.

“You can thank me by getting better.” Dare reassured, holding the hand as tightly as he dared so he wouldn’t send Franco spiraling negatively downwards. “Slow down. Good.” He eyeballed the stupid monitors to make sure they didn’t go ballistic as Franco’s oxygen levels evened out. “I’ll hold onto it until you’re home, no worries there. She didn’t set a time stamp for how long you had. Just that she wants to talk to you too. We didn’t really chat. But...yeah. So now you have to get better.”

Franco nodded at Dare, feeling safe with his hand being held, “I’m gunna get better” he whispered, “I’m gunna get through this”. He paused as his breathing finally came back under his control. He opened his eyes and looked back at Dares face, “I want to come home” he spoke, knowing home was the place he’d be able to try and live again, “Can you get me home?”

“In a few days, I promise my man. But we gotta get you breathing better before we move you around. You were...very, very close to dying. That’s why we couldn’t just have Max or Alejandro looking you over. And you gotta try and accept some pain meds, or this healing process is gonna be a bitch. We might be able to get you pills instead of the injections, but it’s not like you can swallow much stuff. So...try and reconsider, okay? Then when you get home, I’ll get you the best weed we got.”

Franco nodded, “When I come home, can Max look after me medically? Ale made me take some tablets last night, some antibiotic thing but he scared me half to death”. He felt bad, Ale was only trying to help but he was terrified of the man after seeing the syringe. The words about dying rang in his head, maybe he’d used his extra life and he got really lucky, “How bad was it when you found me?” He asked. He hadn’t even seen himself in a mirror yet, he didn’t know how bad it all looked. He nodded and sighed, “Dare, I don’t know what drugs they gave me... but I think it was stronger then weed”.

“I’m sure I can work something out with her. I’ll hit her up on my way out and see if she can help with your care. It’s okay. Seriously.” He sighed, unable to comfort further than just holding Franco’s hand in a grip that just said I’ve got you. “It was bad. Enough that we only thought about bringing you here. That’s...all we can really say about it my man. Antibiotics are probably gonna be necessary with how many open wounds you had. Can’t have you keeling over from just an infection after you survived all this. And I say weed just to help you relax. But no ones gonna make you take anything.” He paused. “Besides the antibiotics.”

Franco tried to smile, “Max is nice. I’m not a big fan of Ale. But if you say it’s safe for me to take these things then I’ll take them”. He trusted Dare with his life, especially now. He listened to what a Dare said, “I’m gunna get Cujo to show me my reflection at some point. If it’s as bad as it feels, then I must look like shit”. He looked up at the door and smiled sadly, “He’s going to be going crazy out there”.

“Hey even at your worst? Better looking than me. I’m kinda pissed. How can this even be?” He glanced at the door too and patted Franco’s hand affectionately. “Let me get Cujo back in here, yeah? Maybe you can get some more sleep then too.”

Franco gave a half smile and nodded, “Well it’s not hard to be better looking then you” he tried to joke, but his voice still sounded numb. He nodded once again, “It’s easier to sleep when Cujo is here. I feel safe”.

“Then we’re gonna swap places. I’m gonna bounce and you,” He leaned over the guard rail to very lightly bop Franco’s nose. “Are going to relax and get better so we can get you discharged and home again. So if I hear that you’re still shitting on yourself or fighting getting better, I’ll be back to lecture you until your ears fall off. Got it?” He moved away from the bed and murmured to Cujo it was time to swap. He held the door open and gave Franco a half-wave. “You know how to reach me if you need me.”

Franco gave a little sigh of breath as Dare bopped him in the nose and he nodded, “I owe you Dare” he breathed, as Cujo came into the room. He wiggled his fingers to say goodbye and sighed, “He’s a good man” he said into the room.

#para #dare x franco #i wanna see you be brave

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becumsh · 7 years ago

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It’s been four and half fucking years, I’m still on about this fucking character in this fucking show.

Yes, it’s The Musketeers BBC, yes, I’ve been looking at the gifs of Cardinal Richelieu again, yes, yes, yes! aGAIN, I know, what can you do. I can’t escape this hellhole. I also need to stop re-watching my own fanvideos, it’s pathetic.

thoughts under the cut because I realise people don’t need this on their dash. No coherence, no sense, no logic, just random thoughts.

Idk, it’s been FOUR AND HALF YEARS, I still speculate over BBC Richelieu, I still speculate over historical Richelieu, somebody stop me.

Before I say anything, let me preface. I watched The Musketeers solely for Peter Capaldi. And I stand until this day by the fact, that The Musketeers was filmed solely for Peter Capaldi.

idk what it is. Random thoughts, my view on the character?? idk it’s been so many years, it’s been so many thoughts.

- Dirty monk perv moments still make me cringe, but what can you do. The man dug the ladies irl, and we have to be thankful that we were spared that fucking Anne/Richelieu motif. I just wish there was more of Marie de Medici/Ricelieu moments, what would I give to have Marie de Medici trying to seduce him for old times sake. Also, perv Richeleiu and no Chevrette? Disgrace and waste of resources. But still, perv Richelieu is meh. (with Milady, ughhhh, get out)

I really liked Adele, I never quite grasped the point of her, even though I now understand why they introduced her (because women in this show are expendable and are used to amplify manpain and serve to further male character development). But in a way it, at least for me, makes Richelieu’s character even more complicated (thanks to stellar Peter Capaldi acting and no thanks to writers) because I see what the writers want us to see, but I also see what’s far more complex and interesting. The writers want to show that Richelieu is a pervy minister who’s ruthless and jealous and will kill his mistress for adultery, thus posing him as a villain who has no remorse and no mercy (mercy belongs to God, but you’re a Cardinal, God’s servant, Cardinal, ya know). I see that Richelieu is ruthless and shit, but he killed Adele not because she’s an adultress (partly, yes, because duh), but mostly because he can’t trust her, because she’s a traitor and a spy, who slept with his enemy and probably was passing secrets. He disclosed information about the King (being an immature idiot or whatever), I mean, that could get his head chopped off. I don’t think he thought much about Adele, she was young and stupid, but she was a distraction, a human version of a pet. And boom, she betrays him like all other very rare people. Also you get Aramis, him wanting only unattainable, being a romantic, and an all-rounded wanker, but I honestly don’t care about him.

Also I can’t fucking believe that Adele Bessette was given a surname and Marguerite wasn’t. (YES I WILL BE SALTY ABOUT LADY MARGUERITE ALWAYS, IN EVERY FUCKING POST, EVEN IF SHE’S COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT TO THE SUBJECT, S T I L L S AL T Y)

- Also his relationship with Milady? I absolutely love their deadpan snarky dynamic, but his neglectful manner with her is sad.

I still see that if they were more more open with one another (and Richelieu not being a blind arsehole), they would have this very tenuous understanding of one another, because they are very much alike in some sense. Milady is all about surviving whereas Richelieu’s motives a more selfless. However he does know a lot about surviving even if it’s less backstabbing and crawling around Paris underbelly and more intruiging and avoiding being poisoned or assassinated. They are people who can be at their darkest around each other, and I think it’s such a beautiful and complex dynamic. And also because Milathos is such a blatant parallel to Trevilieu, and I’m a cheap trash for both.

And thing is, Richelieu in s1 doesn’t understand Milady at all. She has such a well-crafted persona of seductive murderess that even Richelieu can’t crack her exterior, because inside of it hides a very vulnerable girl who has to claw her way in order to survive (s2 is all about Milady, s3 can choke for ruining her redemption and character development arc). He thinks she’s a murderess and a spy because she likes it, but it’s only her means to survive. (”We’re already in hell; don’t you recognise it?” scene is jsut!!!!)

But I still think that Milady respects Richelieu for at least being selfless on some level, I don’t think Milady is much of a patriot, but still. She might even believe in what Richelieu does. Another interesting thought for another day. If Treville didn’t turn her down, they’d be a dream team (yet again, s3 can fucking choke).

- Richelieu is so fucking lonely.

No, like, really. If you take ONLY BBC!Richelieu, he’s so fucking lonely. It’s not reflected on the show enough, but man. His mistress betrays him, he has to kill her. His pal from the past came only to assasinate him. Marie de Medici comes along and reminds him why he’s indispensable (because without him s2 and 3 happen, lbr). the Anne’s assassination attempt reminds him that he can fuck up and he better be less demented (although how quick he’s to get up from that blunder because the musketeers are fucking idiots is satisfying as hell). And the entire show just pushes and pushes the idea of Richelieu being that lone warrior who fights invisible battles. You cannot see him as a villain (okay, the viewers and ann*mis stans probably can, I can’t) because everything the titular characters fight for, that pride and honour to die for king and country - they have the King and country to die for thanks to Richelieu.

“Everything I did, I did solely for the interest of France”, “I’m also the First Minister of France, in matters of religion I defer to Rome, in all else I’m my country’s servant”, “I alone will face the truth that no one else can stomach” - that line especially gets me because that line wasn’t about Queen’s assassination attempt, it was about everything he’s ever done for France and as always, he only got hate and contempt for it. Porthos was “why do you need more power” and it’s so wrong because Richelieu never needed more power. He’d already made himself indespensable, Anne asking him to look in the eyes of the woman he tried to kill - absolutely fucking pointless, he’d kill her again if necessary. I agree, that was the first and the last empowering moment Anne had ever had on the show, and I fucking adore it, but still. He’s despised by virtually everyone sans Louis who sees him as an emotional crutch and a father figure who will magically solve all of his problems.

s1 was focused on Richelieu becoming less and less accountable for his shit. In ep7 he explicitly stated that ‘No person, no nation, no God will stand in his way’. And his way is to make France the greatest country in Europe.

Before ep7 the only one who could judge Richelieu was God. No Ninon de Larroque, no Fleur, no musketeers (absolutely ludicrous, as if he remotely cares what they think about him). After that, after what Vatican tried to do with him, Richelieu goes ham and just goes ‘Fuck it, fuck it all, fuck my unbalanced account with God. I’m going to Hell anyway, so I just might murder the Queen, because what do I have to fucking lose. Not even God will judge what I do, so screw everyone, I’m gonna fucking do my job, and if you have qualms about it - fuck you.’

(Treville on the other hand, btw, feels VERY accountable and he feels that he deserves Aramis’ and Marsac’s bashing for Savoy, but it’s not a post about Treville)

Cleverer move would be asking a divorce from the Pope (but Richelieu pretty much fucked up his relationship with the Pope in ep7, but that’s another question) like Henri IV did with Marguerite Valois, or frame Anne for adultery (that would be easy-peasy lemon squeasy, she hadn’t shagged Aramis yet, but to forge the evidence would be easier that stealing a lolly from a toddler). But blame BBC, not Richelieu, that’s all I’m saying.

Everyone wants a prosperous and powerful France, no one wants to get their hands dirty, so Richelieu ends up doing it all and getting the hate for it. And it’s the hypocrisy of the future seasons I find repulsive (don’t even get me fucking started), but even in s1 it’s very fucking sad. No one wants to get their hands dirty, everyone wants to gush about France and maintain their white cloak of innocence. Yet no country was built by good men, because good men don’t have the stomach for things that have to be done.

Anyway. My point, Richelieu is very fucking lonely and he’s doing a very fucking lonely job.

- Honestly if s2 was with Richelieu, the only thing I can think of is trevilieu? Considering it being far darker and more politics-involved (gracefully done or not is another question entirely, s3 can still fucking choke, it does not fucking exist in my universe), there would be far more episodes where Treville and Richelieu are forced to work together and where Treville realises Richelieu’s means to an end. Fucking hell, all of the episodes would have them working together. Louis was kidnapped. That gun powder. The entire Court being held by demented conman obsessed with glasses and astronomy. Spain ambassador. GOD. JUST IMAGINE.

And I’m not saying it JUST because I ship them, it’s because it would be really interesting. Richelieu would probably find an ally in Treville, because he could share at least some of the burden with Treville. Treville would revisit his views on politics and stuff, because if anything, s2 showed that even though you don’t want to get your hands dirty and even though you want to remain clean and innocent and honorable - if you love your country, if you love your King, there’s no other choice BUT to get your hands dirty. Richelieu would probably see Treville’s side of things - murdering people sometimes is necessary, but not all the time.

And because I’ve already said, Peter Capaldi left a Cardinal Richelieu-shaped hole in the show in his wake because the show was focused on Cardinal Richelieu and Peter Capaldi stole the show, basically, *shrug emoji*

- Honestly [2], Duchesse d’Aiguillon would make The Musketeers 1000000 times better. No perv Richelieu, because there would be no Adele (Aramis can find another way to have an establishing moment, the one that doesn’t deem women as expendable and serviceable only to man’s character development). Richelieu wouldn’t be so fucking lonely. There would be leverage on Richelieu because the Duchesse is his Berserk Button, fight me on this. Ninon de Larroque sucks because many ladies had reading salons, no need to be so fucking pretentious about it. But I’ve talked about it already. More Court intrigues. Better show.

I wanted to talk about my view on fanon Richelieu in trevilieu, but the post is so fucking long lmao.

#cardinal richelieu #team richelieu

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