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lacunasbalustrade · 2 years ago

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It has been a while since these hands

fell upon the pores of paper,

tattooing a puppet so that it astounds

as it prances down the street.

I strip her naked,

give her the staff that symbolises my vices,

and bid her walk through the crowds.

I fold her clothes into drawers and rip

their seams methodically until

I can make them into faux wigs for other puppets.

I give her feathered wings made of amputated,

hollowed voices,

can you hear their silent fury permeating the world?

This is my craft, darlings,

this is your precious art;

I cannot let a thing exist without dissecting it

and this is a stain upon my hands that the touch of a loved one does not erase.

I don't want to examine things, you know.

I want to let them exist without having to apologise, and whisper sweet nothings to them

as we squat in a white and accepting horizon of nothingness appreciating blank space.

I do not want to hammer props together,

and bring my friends into a darkened theatre,

to gather my puppets and have them perform for others' short laughter,

a lovely resolution indeed to learn

from a story that is not theirs

and that they cannot truly walk into.

I do not want to be a theatrical deception,

I refuse to tell a story that will make you think life is worth living.

I hate how words wrap around my skin like

a lower layer of clothes,

of armour,

I hate that my words have the ability to

move people forward or

backward like pawns on a board.

These words come from the wiseness

and experience of a me who

has not enough stomach

to let a promise stay untold;

constantly afraid of forgetting it.

I wish I could recall my heart so fearlessly

that none of it would be mysterious to me,

and thus avoid having to set tombstones of verbs

and nouns into the ground every time I

want to memorialise someone or

something once important to me.

Couldn't I just let them go,

instead of fossilizing them alone,

mummifying them into a dark and disturbed dusk

that they must now wander without a map?

I have killed people from my side

by sticking their incense into the fire

before they were even gone.

I don't want to write.

I don't want to make.

Yes, I

would rather be a consumer,

what is so odd about it?

I hate my own words which exist in

the darkness of a girl younger than the year

I was born.

I would throw a tantrum like a child if that would drive the words away from me,

scatter them like petals to a breeze

or fish to a pebble dropped in the pond.

Can't I exist without judging

and determining the value of things?

Effortless,

I want an effortless ability to

separate the sheep from the lambs.

Can you replace my words with a healing touch? Because all I can offer you is tomes of sadness

and grimoires of what once happened,

living sacrifices bound in hair and blood.

Ghastly,

alive,

undead;

I can't keep putting my name on the altar as

a gift to you, do you understand?

The smoke dries my eyes out into desiccated coconut that I drop into soup and reuse,

nutrients never leaving the cycle of

seeing and

hearing and

painful speculation with speech.

Find me my heart,

someone I do not have to tell stories to.

Let the warmth of our hands gesturing be enough to sustain us.

I want to listen to you talk for the rest of your life and

say nothing at all,

it is a cruel thing that I must speak

in order for someone to take a look over at me,

on the opposite side of the metro.

Can I not take a vow of silence,

of deep breaths and unwavering faith?

But I am so very weak to the sight of you

sitting there and waiting for me to reach out a hand, so much that even

when there is nothing waiting for my return,

I offer up a slashed wrist without a second thought.

In a room with no lights on,

the cool wall drains all defiance from my slumped back. Where will I be when I can

finally throw this pen off the highest skyscraper and not dive down to follow my

most heavy curse?

I am hungry for my words to follow a

standard that I can smooth out to

be acceptably vague,

not deceptively simple and terribly full of grief.

I have collected standard samples of writing

that I wish to portray,

but I can't force myself into a mould because

the grief wants more than anything to speak.

I try to prune it and weed it yet

it grows back again,

and again,

And again.

I can quell it,

gild it,

but a lily is a lily,

and I cannot pull it from the riverbed,

my love.

I cannot.

I don't want to call him by another name.

It suits him,

yes,

but I do not want to sacrifice him to the page.

Our story is the only one

I'm capable of telling,

but I do not want to give it over

into the arms of someone who

will kill the author and strip

the meat of his story

from its bones.

Yes, I know

my writing only has one purpose;

to lend a medium of canvas to someone else's easel

But let me be selfish,

just

this

once,

and say that I cannot tell this story to a page.

I cannot bear to place him in the arms

of someone else,

who will take him

and love him

In a way that is entirely wrong.

I will not and cannot abandon

these words that harbour his gentle tenacity,

his careful intimacy,

to the circus

for some coin and a little recognition.

I will find some other act,

and make a mediocre living,

and I will not strip him of the acknowledgement

I owe him and he owes me,

us to one another;

that we are the closest any person could be

in perfect clarity.

I do not want to call him by another name,

and reduce him to a legend I

am willing to tell around the fire.

For everyone knows that

the more precious the story,

the closer you hold it to your chest,

and the more tenderly you play your cards.

The story is like your hand,

reserved for a few,

only a select few,

who get to look into your eyes and

hear your account of the whole affair.

Here is the best declaration of love that I can manage; I will not immortalise you in my pages.

I will not sketch your visage onto paper.

I will never write a song about you.

Here is the best way I can think of loving you;

I will never let you roam alone,

cut-and-pasted and become a

fragment of someone else's memory.

Here is my answer and my fault,

I refuse to let you weather the ages without me,

and I think we shall go into the world beyond

this world together so neither of us have

to remain as ghosts.

If we leave this world earlier,

and more separated than I would like,

I want nothing to tie you down there.

I want to meet you on the road to heaven,

and damn

if we had things we never got to do on Earth,

because you are enough,

regardless if we get to be

the couple of teenage dreams and

restful wishes or not

I would make my home a battlefield,

and a war too,

if it was one you were fighting with me.

I cannot let you become a secret that I tell.

It is hard to keep these lips shut.

I want to fly our story on

banners from planes and walk

over the sky in fireworks.

But I will not taint you with that wish.

Here and now,

I snap my puppets in two,

breaking their backbones mercilessly.

Here and now,

I delete the only copy of our painstakingly written draft.

Here and now,

the fabric of our universe returns to you,

a ripped and threadbare fabric teeming with holes

and loose strands healing before your eyes

(I cannot make you a poem)

and I will not,

cannot drag you away from it again.

It cost me all my strength,

the first time round.

I hate writing,

and although it stems from my ghosts,

they do not have to speak for me to be content.

If I do not let you remain vibrant with colours,

if I do not hesitate to shut them up and

let us dance,

what sort of lover would I be?

I make the choice here now to lock my past in a room.

To me, love is

something that changes what's precious.

No, I don't think I am a better person

for ignoring the depth of grief within me,

but I will not let my ghosts out to shriek.

I will love you and with

each day they will grow fainter in their bars,

this is the sacrifice I choose to make

rather than satisfy their hunger.

I would starve myself

to have you,

do you understand?

In keeping you,

I have kept the harbour of my life.

Any oath or path I take up has a price to pay,

but yours is the only one in which I am refunded

in full at the end

(yes, I do not know how things will turn out,

but I could never regret this.

I have regretted nothing since I stepped into you.)

Paper will not wrap itself around my heart again.

I will not protect myself with layers of

words like magic seals,

nor communicate my intentions through

gifts of intrigue you cannot speak the language of. Real and true,

I must tear apart the doors that lead nowhere, storming through hallways in

search of the best route to lead you in so

you don't get lost,

and confuse the direction,

and reach me with the fastest time.

For you,

for you,

I shred my armour.

For you,

for you, I,

I will be speechless.

For you, for you,

I let you fill in your questions in your neat handwriting into my heart

and I let time answer for me with

the hug that only space can give as

it makes way for the two of us to embrace.

For you I gave up the treachery

that I took up to elucidate my own home.

I will build one with my hand in yours instead.

Let us walk unsteadily down our path,

the laundry dripping wet in the basket.

We'll hang it up from a branch,

chortling heard through the trees,

and we will have no explanation required from us.

I will make tea and the steam will fog up

your vision, yet you will see

my silhouette through it.

There needs to be no words when we stretch

out like cats leisurely on pillows next to

our glass windows,

basking in the heat of the sun,

the rays of the mundane afternoon we

fought so hard and long for.

The wounds will not be deep,

they will be shallow gouges,

and I will trace my finger down your

cheek and call them healed.

I will cry,

and you will stand there,

waiting for me as I scream,

never once turning your face away.

I will lick the salt clean from my face,

and you will wipe it from my mouth.

I will still fold my blankets thickly over myself,

but I will not need them anymore.

I will have your warmth.

No one said it will stop hurting,

only that I would stop wanting to forget.

And as days after days fall from memory,

I will compare my remembrance with yours.

Together, we will make a game of it,

and it will matter not if we take shortcuts

or cheat because the fadeaway cannot thin

our bond from our sightline,

cannot mist over the horizon we float

through together at our own pace.

And my tears will slowly fossilize into gems

that I wear around my neck,

glistening as proof that we once lived

through such and such times,

yet taken as nonsense by the

new generation who cares shallowly for us.

For you, I will tell no stories.

We can face each other and speak these words,

so there is no need for us to

burden others with them.

This is my proposal to you,

let me be the only story you live through.

This is my proposal to you, let yours

be the only story I keep silent,

the only one I hold to my heart.

I refuse to tell this story.

It is too magnificent to be given freely,

a jealous treasure I will guard.

It is the only thing I will not write about,

the only thing I will shield from my grief

I will not associate my heart with my clinging depression.

They are separate,

and distinctly gifted with different rationale

(my grief to tell me how much

to treasure my joy,

my joy to remind me that there is more

to love than grief.)

My hands will not end up knitting these colours together -

they can stay in their separate compartments so

they do not muddy the colours.

That's why I will not tell your stories.

But I delight in sharing my life within glances to you. I will write about you no more,

and you will live on only within your own existence. You will not become a part of my resume,

and I will not carve you up to please those

who want to see what I crave and create.

I will not cremate you before your arrival and

I will not leave your name up on a mountain.

I will not take you and throw you towards those whom

doubt me as a warning.

I will not share you nor hide you

You will remain your own and I will listen to you

Reaching out across the distance

Without desiring to place a territorial mark on you

I will give you the freedom of striking

the match.

there has been enough grief,

and you will not be soaked or consumed

by what has already taken so much

from me.

I have had enough lost to fill a hundred boxes,

I will not lose you preemptively this time around to

prevent you from breaking my heart.

you will have this choice if I must tear myself apart for it,

I will let you have the upper hand.

I love you enough to keep your secrets safe for you.

I love you enough to kill my reason for you.

This time, you have the steering wheel, and I accept

it if you crash the car.

you have every right, so please,

do not be angry at me for not writing you

into

a story.

I cannot bear it if you do not see why,

why I must not tell the world about you.

You must be the one to tell it.

All I touch is filled with the taste of me, and in

order to have your story be true,

It cannot be easily given.

That is why I must say nothing.

My pen is yours for the taking.

I will tell no one about you,

Only breathe and your hollow absence will be on

my mind always

Anyone can see whom I belong to, but the magic

Is in the refusal to give the game away.

Every inch of my skin is marked with 'sold',

I am entirely yours and

I will not assert myself over you unless it is

Of your doing.

How have you wanted to be loved all these years?

I still am not presumptuous enough to

Believe that I know everything about it, but

I do know this: you needed a broken and

contrite love.

Someone as fiercely burning as you, someone who could

Understand what it was like to set yourself aflame

For the sake of the light to attract

Those whom you wanted.

someone who could tell how you felt,

who would not make you walk down the road of

the person who you had made

yourself pretend to be.

you did not deserve to have to be strong,

and I will not tell of those days you got up

when the floorboards creaked and your

feet dropped out from beneath you.

I will not make you remember how dark your vision

was whilst you were stumbling.

I was not always the right kind of love, and this

Is how I make amends.

A lily is a lily,

And a lotus is a lotus.

Our story is beautiful, but it cannot remain pure

Within the mud.

That's why I will gently wash off all the debris

On you, without pausing to

Let any bystanders see you when you were hurting.

I do not want to expose you at

your most vulnerable.

For you, I set down my relentless pursuit of truth

and learn to love whilst

closing my eyes so their gaze

could not hurt you.

some battles need to be lost for the war to be won,

and your trust is one war I cannot afford to fail.

do not be angry at me for not telling of

your exploits, my love,

I watched each one and how the cost wreaked havoc

On your steady will and trembling hands.

I cannot see you break a stone in half one more time,

Remembering how your bone broke along with it.

do not be upset that I do not glorify your triumphs,

my darling,

you were magnificent but so dangerous.

I was constantly hoping you would get to place your

spear on the ground and your shield in someone else's

hands,

for your calluses should have softened in a way

that would let you place your guard down

and tentatively open your heart on a

scheduled and mundane basis.

you can forget everything else,

but do not forget this of me,

you made a pact with the devil and they became your familiar.

you cannot leave.

Ignore me, avoid me,

reject me, contradict me,

but

do not pretend I never made this agreement with you.

so even though when I go out into the world,

I tell no stories of you,

Exist whenever and wherever I am, and

Accompany me as my voice.

you know me well enough for that.

#poems #love poems #poetry #love poetry #poeticstories

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yungviry · 1 year ago

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a fucking mess

man guys it happened, i ran into my ex! and boy was it terrible. let me set the scene: im at the gas station and simultaneously pumping gas and recording a snapchat video like we do. and as im done pumping the gas and getting back into the car and watching back my video, he pops into my car window. completely caught me off guard. i cant remember all the shit he said but he did say stop "talking shit about me online". which i found to be annoying but whatever. i pulled away as fast as i could and parked down the street. i tried my best to not give a reaction or say a word and i didnt. i pulled over and cried for a bit like a fucking pussy, cause i couldnt handle it. my ass was so stressed. i dot know about yall but i dont ever expect to see an ex after a breakup unless its intentional. and the fact that he was just at my neighborhood arco was just a nightmare. officially never going there again.

im telling yall a breakup is different for everyone. we cope differently and its all good. a bitch will be revealing but just know that my book will but much better. and the focus isnt necessary my ex's but more so my life after blossoming into a woman if you will. a bitch hit a hundred bodies i feel like i got a story to tell. and 100 isnt a lot but in 3 years i give myself a pat on the back. theres just a lot of tales and unfortunate situations i got myself into.

malik is an ass. was an ass. i dont care for the terminology hes a menace and no im not gunna shut up about him to an extent. sometimes i remember that he used to hit me, sometimes i remember he used to be rude as fuck, i remember when he told me he had herpes and religiously blamed it on his last girlfriend. he was a big piece of shit and i just feel if someone wants to get involved with him they should know the indiscretion he omits.

Malik Salam shit list (from oakland in case you women are unaware)

-cheater (multiple times, im aware im the dumbass that took him back like 4 times for the same shit but imma still add it to my list cause a bitch was gaslight like a motherfucker till i saw shit for myself)((this is as in messaging/hooking up with master rochi/the white bitch im blanking on her name right now)

-has fucking herpes and reused to let anyone of his previous sexual partners know

-constantly asked to borrow money with and told me hed pay me back, blackmailed me by saying he woulnt pay me back if we broke up, and for the whole 3 years almost never paid back any of the money

im sorry the money always be pissing me off. like yall don understand when i get to the malik chapter of my book im gunna go off. he whole ass knew since december 2021 that his friend was getting married in vegas in october 2022. told me up and down i wasnt going. literally could have convos about how i was axed from those plans. and because hes cheap (or broke i didnt looked at his accounts) a month before he tells me i can suddenly go. "book the room and well split it" never got his half. paid for gas the whole way there. paid for the majority of meals. but dont worry he shared his weed.

actually at some point in the planning he uninvited me from the wedding and said "i could still come to vegas just not the wedding" so my ass didnt even have a fit for the wedding, we went shopping out there. just thinking about this shit is annoying. supposedly your best friend is getting married but you didnt put any money away for the whole event. spent the 4 days there watching squid games in his car, he did bring weed so we shared our weed too, and didnt really do shit. went to the hoover dam and the grand canyon, but not really the grand canyon cause e got there when it was dark and didnt see shit. but overall i spent a band on the trip and never got half of that.

gosh i hate shitting on someone cause obviously you loved them and thought well of them at some point so just know im ranting. this really is my space so my ass sometimes just wants to shit on the bitch i tried to really see the good in. like the basic consensus is i feel stupid as fuck and im not gunna go tell my homies exactly how big a shit head he was. i didnt while we were together and i aint finna start. so imma just write it out and shit on his ass on my tumblr like any healthy and coping young lady.

and his hair looks stupid so very much happy.

its crazy cause ive been thinking abut derrick lately (my og ex boyfriend) and then byrd hits me up to hang out (my og fuck buddy). the byrd thing isnt soo soo weid just cause i did hit him up like a week ago to say happy birthday. but his ass doesnt munch box so theres no point in hooking up.

however derrick...

man i aint seen him in like a over a year, his birthdays at the end of the month and i have a bit of a birthday message already in the works. hes gunna be 30 at the end of the month and it makes me remember our pact, said wed marry each other if we were still single. but last time i seen him i said "can we change our pact age to 40" 30 still young i still have time and plenty of fish still swimming around.

see that man is a muncher, not the best, but hes alright for the occasion. but its not the munching im there for its the wiener. see his wiener could have a whole chapter in my book too. i was obsessed with it and him. he just fucks hella good, im sorry im repetitive but damn that man works his wiener like a king. if i could have one last fuck it be him forsure. sometimes i can still feel it if i concentrate, and 100% will get goose bumps. sometimes i feel like hitting him up but he still has the same girlfriend, and last time we hooked up im sure it was some type of sneak off on his part, but thats exactly why im unlucky with love. i be fucking with this man and i dont know if hes single single. and he wasnt a good partner either, he cheated too and lied about that shit, except i actually left after the first time.

idk didnt mean to go off topic, sometimes i start spewing and shit gets all mixed together. lowkey i have had derrick on the brain so to see malik was just hella wild. im pretty sure he called me but last time i checked we didnt have shit to say to each other. i spent 3 years giving that amn all the opportunity to tell me wassup to spill his guts and truly im over it and if hes tickled that im "exposing" him for being a shitty boyfriend when in reality im just fucking telling my truth is obnoxious. he hit me he cheated on me he lied about all the shit he was doing and continued to even when confronted. like my ass is just hurt and im gunna let it out

#rant #rant post #personal rant

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frankendykes-monster · 6 months ago

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Though I will say that the superhero has become an increasingly militaristic and reactionary concept since 9/11, that begs us to question how we got here.

One thing people fail to notice on here is that the "superhero" is functionally wed to the American comic book. We can see this in the form of why superheroes need to be partly defined by altruism. It's frequently pointed out that Batman killed pretty frequently in his first year of publication, but by Batman #4 in 1940, you have Batman tell Robin "we never kill criminals with weapons of any kind." It's a synthesis of two rationales, first that the primary audience of comics was children, and two, the "comic" is something that's supposed to last indefinitely. Characters and concepts need to stay in a position where they can be reused at any time in the future. Details that we will return to.

Another major thing that needs to be discussed is that superheroes are obviously also defined by their ability to be able to do superhuman feats; but this is also an issue of why they frequently devolve into right-wing fantasies and how much the altruism is a bandaid solution that needs to be reapplied constantly. You see in Action Comics #1 where Superman breaks through walls to start fights against one other guy but it's in sharp contrast to Action Comics #242 (the second issue of what DC officially regards as the Silver Age of Superman) where Superman has to save the Bottled City of Kandor from Brainiac's personal collection. What happened? A difference in power levels. Superman as originally conceived could withstand a bullet, but not an artillery shell. Superman by the late 1950's was doing stuff like accidently taking out a solar system by sneezing. The only way Superman functions as a concept that is not immediately terrifying is if he is Capital-G Good and also doesn't throw his weight around in any capacity (why superheroes always have to wait for something to go amiss before heading into action).

9/11 causes a shift that forces superheroes to be much more active. Something hasn't gone amiss, something *is* amiss, the world has been fundamentally changed (in the American consciousness at least). You see a lot of superheroes now working directly with the US government or be genetically engineered soldiers, not new concepts mind you but never were they this prevelant. I always think of The Ultimates, The Avengers in the Ultimate Universe, as the apex of this; Mark Millar ends the second volume with the Ultimates fighting an evil version of the same team composed of members from Russia, China, DPRK, Afghanistan, etc. that were formed because The Ultimates themselves were attacking other nations on behalf of the US. Millar being the same guy who wrote Civil War and later said that Iron Man's team representing a fictional version of the PATRIOT Act was in the right, but I digress.

But enough about comics, people nowadays are way more familiar with the superhero in the live-action film, obviously. Namely the action-adventure film. We aren't quite at the "9/11 ruined everything" moment because Batman (1966) and Superman (1978) were both made without the modern action-adventure film to serve as a model, but Spider-Man (2002), the first superhero film of the still ongoing genre boom, gives us some interesting details to look at it. It's a film series constrained by the new genre tropes it has to work with. The antagonist in action-adventure films traditionally dies because death (and also fight scenes taking place at night specifically) are a good cue to the audience that the story is wrapping up. Films are and always will be a single unit of information (in contrast to comics), so Raimi's trilogy consistently has to find ways to kill Spider-Man's opponents because Spider-Man himself isn't going to do it.

But things change pretty quickly with the MCU. All these factors, alongside the historical transition to superheroes being more realistic since the end of the Silver Age (not super necessary for this post) sort of collapse into a black hole which results in The Avengers (2012) ending with Iron Man stopping an alien invasion with a nuclear warhead. It's funny. Even The Dark Knight (2008) for all its posturing on how the new surveillance state was necessary, still has the characters earn a moral victory. The MCU is functionally a wasteland of "might makes right", where there shall be no questioning of the authority of any individual character, authority granted by their powers alone. It's a common theme across so many entries that I couldn't name them all. There will be no concluding paragraph at this time because I am writing this on my break.

Is it a bad time to mention that while superheroes are an inherently reactionary concept, the interpretation that they always fulfill or reintroduce the concept of the ubermensch is just a wild/overcompensating reaction by people who already didn't like them to begin with.

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hamphobicbasil · 4 years ago

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Could u elaborate about the dsmp story being bad? Not a rabid/brain dead fan, just genuinely curious and I enjoy reading people's rants lolol

oh you dont know the floodgates you just opened

a few things:

1. despite not liking the creators of the dsmp anymore, I don't actually hate most of them. [the ones that are particularly unsavory fall outside of this of course] so all that I'm saying i truly mean in a critical sense towards the story, its also just all purely my opinion as someone who enjoys fictional and fantasy stories and who like criticizing works to see what it does well and what it doesn't do well

2. for clarification I'm going to use the c![name] to indicate when I'm talking about the characters. Don't get me wrong, I think its annoying too but its the only way I'm gonna be able to write this thing without getting something across the wrong way yknow?

3. I stopped watching the streams after November 16th, [save for one Techno one but I closed out after a particularly bad story beat lol] and so all information coming afterward is all second hand from either me seeing people on twt talk abt it or people dming me. All i really know is up to dream's imprisonment and some stuff past that.

4. This is mostly aimed towards the "main" story, so stuff abt the badlands, eggpire, and whatnot are briefly mentioned.

anyways uh, i'll try to be brief but also include enough information to get why i feel the way i do on some stuff across

A. Performances Alright obviously these people are all streamers, so obviously they might not be the best actors, and hell no one is even asking that of them. However, when you're telling a story that's based on the audio with the visuals kinda coming to a second, it's gotta be pretty strong. I will say, some of the best actors in my opinion are Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo. I would include Ranboo but I never watched any of his story bits or story streams so I can't say much. Wilbur and Tommy are excellent in selling their character's emotions and feelings, when I watch the stream I don't feel like I'm watching an rp but an actual thought-out story yknow? And one of my favorite Tubbo examples was in the Hog Hunt video whenever Techno attacked him, he sounded genuinely afraid and I believed everything his character was feeling.

However, unfortunately, not everyone is gonna be that good. And I'm gonna say it; Dream and Techno have to be the worst out of the entire cast. I understand Techno's whole character is this monotoned badass, however, when really emotional moments hit I feel like he never lets that fall, and a lot of intense moments just ring hollow. And I'm sorry but Dream's attempts at being intimidating leave me laughing whenever I watch them. It feels like he watched that one scene from The Marriage with Adam Driver and Scarlett Johannson and said "Oh this is what good acting looks like! Just yelling." His whole "I don't give a FUCK about Spirit!" speech isn't as great as people keep making it out to be. And whenever he tries to act coy when being a villain it feels like a guy reading the script for the first time, a bit like he's trying too hard. I have more problems with his character but his portrayal certainly doesn't help.

Everyone else is fine, and I don't feel strongly either way about a lot of them.

B. The "Lore" Okay first off, I can't be the only one who thinks it's silly that people are calling the dsmp's story "lore" when it's not, it's the fucking story. Lore indicates backstory to either the world or the characters, which a lot of the streams don't really pertain to. This is a really petty section but god it's a weird pet peeve of mine.

Other than the misusage of "lore" vs "story", the actual lore and world-building of the world are so lackluster that new elements can be introduced whenever and it often feels cluttered or not well thought out at all. And here's the thing, I feel like if the writers sat down just for a few minutes to establish world rules and general history, a lot of this could be solved! but so much is made up on the spot that it starts to feel like they're grabbing at straws to keep people invested, trying to reach that next high and intense story beat without actually earning it.

C. The Egg / Eggpire This is a pretty minor note since I was only invested in the Egg storyline for a little bit, but god it's so underused that it's almost embarrassing. Bad has provided this super interesting antagonistic force that's infecting the SMP, can control people, and who one of our main character is immune to, and it's just never used or even talked about again? Now I understand if he wanted to keep it to a side storyline only, however, to introduce this borderline eldritch creature and force within the world and then never have it dealt with is so weird.

D. The Writing Oh boy this is. kinda a big one. Now I'm not gonna lie, it's pretty obvious I have a bias for the Wilbur writing over the current team [that consisting of Dream, Quackity, and Tommy mostly]. I don't this his writing is perfect by any means, the characters constantly bringing up traitors got obnoxious after a while, and writing Hamilton but in Minecraft really isn't the modern Shakespeare or anything. However, I think his exploration of characters and plot progression was a lot more thought out and well planned, like he actually had two brain cells behind the story yknow? The current team I think fails to be as emotional or even impactful, things happened too fast and my god was everything drowned in angst for so long.

Don't get me wrong, you gotta have your characters face hardships to make them reach their goal believable, but some of the shit they put the characters through just felt like too much. From c!Tubbo's constant comparison to c!Schlatt [who btw, fucking ordered his death and kept him from his friends in a nation he felt trapped in] and on a side note, i kinda really fucking dislike the "c!Schlatt dad!!" au's or the au's where c!Tubbo inherits some of Schlatt's features, it would be like c!Tommy getting a c!Dream mask after his exile, it's feels so weird yet people eat that shit up for some reason.

But god, did c!Tommy get the brunt of it all and in retrospect after his final death, it kinda feels really fucking gross. Now obviously, I'm not trusting any of these people to write decent mental health representation, but c!Tommy's PTSD and how it was explored was just degrading. [Specifically the scene in that one Techno stream where he saw the final control room from the first war, and had a flashback / panic attack where he started calling out for c!Dream. I understand this is an actual thing people with PTSD will experience, but it felt so fucking stereotypical it got on my nerves. I actually had to close out of the stream because it made me feel sick, fiction shouldn't leave you feeling that way.] And don't get me started on how they basically reused the formula from the previous arc. [Problem introduced -> Tensions rise as things start to fall apart -> Big confrontation -> Exile -> Return from Exile -> Blowing up L'Manberg, again.]

And speaking of characters-

E. Character Arcs, or the lack of them In my genuine opinion, some of these characters' arcs are so disappointing. Especially c!Tommy's. I'm not one to believe that he was a "selfish" character or anything, however, his goals were simply set on his discs and maybe c!Tubbo, he didn't have much outside that. However, L'Manberg gave him something to care about, he gave up his discs for it and he fought for it tooth and nail, I think it taught him to open up to others and trust more. It was a great character arc for him to have, seeing him still fight even after his first exile alongside c!Wilbur, to return safely to the nation that he and his found family had built.

But then his second exile happened, and I feel like all of that was undone.

c!Tommy's exile genuinely pisses me off for so many reasons. It's not that characters can't have their low points after reaching a major change or feeling like they've "completed" their arcs or anything, but it's more of the fact that it seems like he's never going to heal that feels like a spit in the face, especially to people who might have had setbacks like that before. Progress isn't linear, sometimes things happen and you get knocked back down, it can take a while to get back up, but I don't think c!Tommy's character is ever going to be allowed to get back up. From c!Dream, who pretty much was a constant abuser in his life, killing him then reviving him, and his still fractured relationship with c!Tubbo, which by the way I have a had time believing they would still be friends after all that happened, it feels like he can never get a win and it's generally kinda a shit way to treat your characters who have been abused. Of course, not all abused characters are going to get happy endings, I'm not trying to dictate that they all should, but c!Tommy deserves one and the fact that it's so obscure feels shitty.

Side note: we still don't have a canon reason to give a shit abt the discs. Like I'm sorry but without some sorta connection to the MacGuffin why should we give a shit about him getting them other than "he wants them lol". Like hell, I would even accept the classic "they were the last gifts from his parents" or something, but we still don't have a reason.

c!Tubbo also lacks a fulfilling arc as well, from someone who started out as a yes man, he has progressed a bit into having his own interests first, but besides that sometimes his character makes me so. depressed. He's easily one of the most pushed around and hated characters within the story, all for being a kid who didn't know what to do and he's in the same vein as c!Tommy; these kids can't get a break. Also, his anti-violence beliefs morphing into the "lets kill c!Techno lol!" bit was so out of place and without proper build-up it was like. what. And now he's building nukes?? god c!Tubbo makes me so sad because he's kicked around constantly and never given a chance to grow.

Another small note, I also don't really enjoy c!Techno at all. Besides the previously stated reasons of lack of emotions when they're really needed, I find his character to be weirdly pretentious. He talks as if he's constantly been betrayed and hurt but I personally, don't see it? Like, I think one of the main examples was the Pogtopia vs. Manberg war, yknow he wanted to end the government but they just reinstated it after they won = c!Techno upset. But this doesn't make sense to me because why did he think otherwise? The entire time c!Tommy had talked about taking back their nation and starting again, so the fact that c!Techno suddenly thought there would be a sudden change is, to put it bluntly, kinda fucking stupid. I don't want to say that he "plays the victim" or anything because that feels a bit harsh, but his character feels so far up his own ass that I can't enjoy him.

I have a major grip with c!Dream as well, but that's getting it's own fucking section.

F. L'Manberg This is a quick note before we get into the, forgive me for this, endgame, of this entire rant, since the next two sections are tied together. But god, L'Manberg makes me upset because it feels like they gave up on it.

Don't get me wrong, I understand that it is supposed to be c!Wilbur's "unfinished symphony", the thing that destroyed a once charismatic and widely loved man, his attempt at power that utterly ruined him. But the fact that it just got blown up in the end after everything and left to rot felt like such a waste of time. From the first war, to Pogtopia, to even c!Tommy's exile, it all felt fucking worthless in the end, and the story is actively closer to how it was when it started now more than ever. I wished it was actually allowed to exist and continue to be a peaceful place in what is a chaotic world, but no it was just snuffed out because why dedicate to this concept of finding others you can band together with and feel safe. fuck that noise apparently?

G. The Villains Now villain-wise, I'm only talking about c!Dream [during the first war], c!Schlatt, and c!Wilbur. And believe it or not, this is actually mostly positive.

Now I'm not gonna lie, c!Dream as a staring antagonist wasn't bad actually, he posed a genuine and threatening opposition to L'Manberg, even if we didn't know his real intentions or motivations as to why he was against it. He's lucky in this sense because he didn't have to be good, he had to be passable. If anything, he felt more like an anti-hero than a tyrant or traditional villain, and my god do I wish he kept this theme going forward.

Now quick disclaimer, I don't like JSchlatt as much as the next guy, he's an adult man who should know better than to joke about some sensitive topics and act the way that he does. But the one thing I'll ever give him is that damn, was he a good actor for his character.

Now here's the thing, c!Schlatt wasn't particularly deep at all. He had no real motivations behind his exile of c!Wilbur and c!Tommy other than getting competition out of the way, had no reason to act the way that he did and yknow? that's fine. The reason why he worked was from his performance alone, he was actually intimidating. When he came onto the stream and was doing his typical bad guy stuff, it was actually intense to see what he would do. Whenever he would almost catch c!Tommy back in Manberg, whenever he would begin to pressure c!Tubbo, it put you on the edge of your seat and it felt like everything would change at the drop of a pen. He's a villain to be a villain, and this works out because he's just charismatic and well put together enough to make it interesting, even without the backstory or motives.

c!Wilbur however, is much more tragic, and the best villain of the story. He essentially was the "mentor turned evil" trope and it felt terrible watching him descend into madness, unable to trust barely anyone except for c!Techno and c!Tommy. Hell, in the end I think he still cared about them both, despite losing everything. Sure, he blew up L'Manberg, but there was still a smidge of the old c!Wilbur in there made everything he did feel melancholic. His death at the hands of his father after achieving his final wish was chilling, and something I still think about.

Until yknow, Ghostbur came back way too soon to let people feel his loss as a character within that world. And then he got revived, pretty much-undoing everything that moment meant for his character lol.

And then there's the worst one:

H. Dream. I'm going to be completely honest, c!Dream is one of the main reasons why I dislike the current dsmp stuff so much. Outside of his actions as a person, the way Dream decided to write his character as this overpowered madman of the dsmp really just. destroyed any intrigue that he could've had. Perhaps this is from my growing dislike towards him, manifesting into a bias towards his character, but god I cannot fathom why people try to insist he's interesting when he has as much depth as a fucking puddle.

And here's the thing, I'm not even entirely against c!Dream being a villain, hell I think he would've been great as an anti-hero if anything. Make him sympathetic but not through c!George to get your precious "DNF" points or anything, but show him actually caring about the people within the dsmp, including c!Tommy and c!Tubbo. This would make his rival status with them just a bit more complicated, sure they're enemies, however, he doesn't want to hurt or kill them, and there's still a level of friendship there that keeps them bonded when things get super bad. This could've been super interesting to see, the first villain of the story receiving a sorta redemption arc then descending into madness as he started to fixate on being a god. This is all how I feel personally, but god do I feel like it would've been better than his current character, and hell would've worked with how he was during the Pogtopia arc, before the war that is. I'm not trying to tell Dream how to write his own character, but there are so many other ways he could've done the madman seeking to become god rather then. whatever the hell we got.

Because instead, we got this power-mad asshole who does things... because he can? And that's one of my major issues: he tries to surround his character in mystery to make him "intriguing" but it's kinda like c!Techno, it comes off as pretentious. Not only that, but you cannot keep waving around this mystery of a backstory without ever actually revealing it. I know the story isn't over, but c!Dream is effectively at his lowest point, now would be the time to reveal his backstory. But no just keep it in the dark and keep everyone guessing, that's totally fun and not at all tiring and annoying. (sarcasm, if anyone needs it)

And back to his performance, he doesn't sell this aloof, cynical and strategic warrior that has perfected the blade or some shit, he comes off as some angry guy yelling on reddit. which i don't need to tell you, isn't intimidating. It feels like he's trying to have c!Schlatt's intimidation combined with c!Wilbur's depth, but instead he's like a little brother who's trying to hard to mimic his older brother and is kinda embarrassing himself.

but other then that i dont feel too strongly abt the dsmp lol

but seriously, these are the main complaints I have abt the story tbh, I could probably talk about more but I wont because man. this is probably gonna get me in trouble if any of the hyper-dsmp fans actually read it.

#wow this is long #txt #anti dsmp #anti dream #dsmp crit #dsmp critical #yeah im tagging it i dont give a shit #dream crit #dream critical #the story is shit yo!

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melanielocke · 3 years ago

Text

Lost in the Shadows - Epilogue

AO3

Taglist: @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

Previous Chapter: Chapter 35

This is the epilogue and final chapter. While there are some loose ends and I might write a sequel one day, I have currently have no plans for one so it would take some time. As it is I'm working on a Frozen TLH story (chapter 1-3 are currently published), and one post CoI story titled "We bury the sunlight" so look out for those.

Alastair decided to move in with Jem at the end of the summer. He had managed to finish decorating his bedroom just in time for the first week of university, which he was excited about starting. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d expected Jem to be overbearing and constantly worrying about his mental health. He’d always thought that was what a psychiatrist did, he guessed, just like his father had always feared Jem would know about his alcoholism from just looking at him.

He’d learnt that wasn’t the case. Jem was a doctor, he couldn’t read minds, and although he was there for Alastair when he needed him, he was family and not his doctor, which was an important distinction. Jem gave him lots of space, and the ground rules were mainly about keeping everything clean, which was no problem. Jem also preferred it to know if someone he didn’t know was visiting, but that rarely happened since Alastair only had a few friends and the only one who hadn’t known Jem before was Kamala.

It was nice, having so much space to himself. Jem had changed a lot about the house, it didn’t look like an exact copy of the house he’d lived in when he was very young. Cordelia and his mother still lived with Risa, with him gone it fit a bit better, but they were in the process of getting the house back.

He saw Thomas regularly, and they had sleep overs once a week. Alastair had bought a new double bed for his room mainly so they could share the bed. Thomas was currently adapting to student life, but had vowed to Alastair that he would not drink any alcohol. Alastair worried that would severely limit Thomas’ social life, but secretly he was very happy Thomas would do that for him. Lucie had also decided they would all start playing DnD with her, and although Alastair still didn’t understand much of the game, they had fun. Thomas, who had been in Lucie’s previous campaign as well, had helped him with his character. Right now, the group consisted of Lucie as the story teller, or dungeon master as the game called it, and Thomas, Cordelia, Kamala, Eugenia and him as the players. Alastair played a warlock, which he felt suited him. Warlocks also got nightmares they never asked for all the time and were constantly exhausted, not to mention they made deals with otherworldly beings. Perhaps it fit a little too well.

He’d also decided to take lessons in ballroom dancing, with Kamala as his dance partner at the student dance association. He almost had something that resembled a social life, which was both very new and very weird. As it was, they both were quite good at dancing. Kamala had taken two years of dance classes too, although it had been years, and together they could figure out what they remembered and how to do it. Both had been forced by their father at the time and it was much more enjoyable now that they’d chosen to pick it up again, not to mention it was nice having a dance partner he matched well with.

Thomas was still considering starting dancing, but finding a partner who was tall enough for him would be a struggle. Alastair could follow decently and dance with Thomas, although he still noticed the height difference, but with the lack of men in dancing most teachers would rather pair Thomas with the tallest girl available.

He felt like for the first time in years, he was sort of happy? Happier than he used to be at least. He still had nightmares, flashbacks, all that, and didn’t think it was going away anytime soon. If anything, EMDR made it harder, but that was to be expected. He’d known that during EMDR he’d have to talk about everything, and although in time that would make it better, at first it just brought everything to the surface. He’d learnt not to plan anything else on days he had EMDR, except maybe cuddling with Thomas.

Although relationships were still new to him, any relationships really, he was getting more accustomed to having people around who cared about him. Not just Thomas, but Lucie and Cordelia, who had just started their last year of school and came to him for help with their math homework, Kamala and Eugenia, who he’d been spending time with at the dance studio. He often visited the Lightwoods too, and he felt welcome there. Gideon and Sophie had made a habit out of inviting him along with any family outings. He’d never felt so welcome before, it had taken some time to work through that.

‘You’re going to love my gift, I promise.’

Tomorrow was Alastair’s nineteenth birthday, and Thomas was sleeping over the night before.

‘What is it?’ Alastair asked.

‘A surprise.’

‘It was worth a try,’ Alastair said. ‘How was your visit at Matthew today?’

Alastair had spoken to Matthew once. He didn’t think the two of them would ever be good friends, but they could move past school and tolerate each other’s presence. Thomas had spent the day with him today, shopping. Matthew apparently loved clothes even more than Alastair did, and had an unusual and extravagant taste.

‘Awkward,’ Thomas said.

Alastair frowned. ‘Why was it awkward?’

‘Well, he’s the only other man I know who is interested in men and has previous, uh, experience. So I figured I’d ask what to expect and what to do. It was a very uncomfortable conversation.’

Alastair started laughing. ‘You could have just asked me.’

‘I know, but I thought it would be nicer for you if I had some idea of what I’m supposed to be doing,’ Thomas said.

Alastair put his hand in Thomas’ hair. ‘That’s sweet.’

‘From now on I’ll be asking you my questions,’ Thomas said. ‘Of course, the internet has also been helpful.’

‘As long as you know where to get your information,’ Alastair said. ‘Porn isn’t real and not a good source. But I don’t mind if there’s things you don’t know yet, because I know enough.’

They had sex for the first time that night. Alastair felt it was the right time. Of course, having sex the night before his birthday wasn’t new to him. The previous years he’d spend with Charles ever since he’d turned sixteen. It was far better with Thomas. Not because of experience or anything like that, but because Alastair felt comfortable, because he was absolutely sure he wanted it and felt like he could ask Thomas to stop if he wasn��t comfortable anymore. Thomas was a little clumsy, but Alastair didn’t mind. He would get better at it with some practice.

The next morning, they went to the Victoria and Albert museum. It was early on a week day and neither of them had classes today. Thomas had been surprised at first by how empty his schedule was but had ultimately discovered much of his free time was spent on assignments and preparing for lectures and classes. Fortunately, it did mean they could easily plan such trips on times it wouldn’t be crowded. Alastair still didn’t like crowds and didn’t think he ever would. Thomas had grown over his fear of them, but he also preferred the quiet. It was much nicer this way, taking his time to let a piece of art wash over him, undisturbed by other visitors. Thomas made the occasional comment. He’d taken art history in school and could name the different styles and put works in the context of the time period. Alastair didn’t say much in response, just nodded. He felt he didn’t have to.

Thomas had promised him his gift after coming back from the museum, and Alastair was starting to get curious. Thomas had hidden the gift somewhere in Jem’s house, so Alastair wouldn’t even be able to guess from the shape. He hadn’t bothered to look for it, but had been tempted. As much as he liked the small smile on Thomas’ lips as he said ‘not yet, mi Cielo,’ Alastair was not fond of surprises. He liked to know what to expect with a three to five workdays advance notice for anything out of the usual.

‘You’d think no one has ever given you a birthday gift before,’ Thomas said. He paused. ‘Wait, is that it? Did you not usually receive gifts?’

‘No, I did, from my mother and sometimes Cordelia.’

Charles too, Charles had had a habit of giving him expensive gifts. Or gifts he’d found among his mother’s things, he guessed. Alastair had not seen him again now that he was back in London, for which he was grateful. Gideon had spoken with Charles and told him he knew what he’d done and wasn’t welcome at his house anymore. Apparently Charles had been very angry about that, but Gideon had told Alastair he was welcome anytime and it was his responsibility to guarantee his safety. Alastair appreciated that.

‘Have you been asking them about it all this time too?’ Thomas asked.

‘No just you. But you made a big deal out of it by hiding it someplace here,’ Alastair said.

‘Alright, I guess you can open it,’ Thomas said, who left and came back to the living room carrying a very big box.

Alastair carefully opened the wrapping paper, making sure nothing tore. He wasn’t sure why exactly, but he’d always opened gifts this way, as if he intended to reuse the paper, something he’d never done.

‘I thought, with how impatient you were, you’d rip it all apart,’ Thomas said.

‘No,’ Alastair said.

‘You can rip it, it’s no problem,’ Thomas said as Alastair was struggling to get a piece of sticky tape off without damaging anything.

‘No,’ Alastair said, even more determined to get everything off properly.

Once he’d gotten it open and folded away the colorful wrapping paper, Alastair revealed something that resembled a hamster cage, but bigger. There were two floors, the top open and the bottom offering a little more darkness with a little home in there an animal could hide in. There was a wheel, several balls, and a little hedgehog plushie.

‘I know you were planning to get a pet hedgehog, so I researched what it needs. This has most things it needs to live in, you just might need to add a heat lamp because hedgehogs need a warm environment.’

‘I’d been looking into what I’d need too,’ Alastair said. ‘Jem is alright with me getting a hedgehog as long as I make sure to keep Church away from him. That shouldn’t be a problem, as I would put the hedgehog in my bedroom and Church doesn’t go there.’

‘How is Church?’ Thomas asked.

‘Usually, he is wherever I’m not. He doesn’t come into my bedroom. In the living room it can be a bit more of a struggle, as he likes to claim his space, and no matter where I sit, he gets upset because that’s the spot he wanted for himself. The only moment he tolerates me is when I’m accompanying Jem on the piano.’

Alastair had picked up playing music again after years and he tried to practice for half an hour daily. Sometimes with Thomas, singing his songs and playing more modern music. But he also played classical music with Jem, who was exceptional at the violin. Jem could probably have been a concert violinist if he hadn’t chosen to become a doctor instead.

‘Sounds like Church,’ Thomas said. ‘He won’t be a danger to your hedgehog, will he?’

‘I will keep my hedgehog in my bedroom,’ Alastair said. ‘If I make sure to keep the door closed when I’m not there, I think it’s unlikely Church will even go there. Even then there’s a cover for this hedgehog home and a little house for him to hide, and of course a hedgehog can roll into a little ball of quills. I think it’ll be fine. And my therapist thought it might be good for me to get a pet, as long as I am confident I can care for it of course. Now, can you help me think of a name? I’m not great with names.’

‘You and Cordelia have been arguing about baby names for weeks now,’ Thomas pointed out.

‘Yes, the baby should have a beautiful Persian name,’ Alastair said. ‘For pets it’s different.’

‘Or dnd characters,’ Thomas added.

‘So what if my character has my middle name?’

‘No, I like it,’ Thomas said. ‘Esfandiyar. It’s a beautiful name. For a pet I think a shorter name is better. I think your plushie hedgehog is called Mr. Prickly?’

‘I named him when I was a child,’ Alastair said. ‘I’m not naming my pet something stupid.’

‘No little pipsqueak?’ Thomas said with a grin.

Alastair rolled his eyes. ‘Absolutely not.’

***

‘You mean to say you forgot to buy Alastair a gift for his birthday?’ Lucie asked.

‘I didn’t forget,’ Cordelia said. ‘I planned to do it today, after school. How was I supposed to know I was going to get detention?’

They entered the bookstore, certain she could find something Alastair would like here.

‘Sorry I couldn’t get you out,’ Lucie said. ‘Even my dad can’t do that, but he knows it was completely unfair.’

Cordelia shrugged. ‘I finished my homework. But I’m still pissed.’

She knew teachers tended to be harsher on her, Alastair had always had the same problem, and she usually made a point to behave but she also wasn’t going to let people just walk over her girlfriend. So what if she’d gotten into a fight with a bully? He’d started it, but that’s not how the teacher who’d broken them apart saw it.

‘Alastair will understand,’ Cordelia added. ‘He was often sent to detention unfairly too. Now, which of these books do you think he’ll like?’

‘Both seem pretty good,’ Lucie said. ‘What are they about?’

‘This one’s called Malice, and is a Sleeping Beauty retelling focused on Alyce, the dark grace with powers similar to the original evil witch who cursed the princesses, and she might be the villain but she might also fall in love with Aurora. I haven’t read it, but it sounds awesome. The other is Girl, Serpent, Thorn.’

‘Oh, didn’t I lend you that one last year?’

‘Yes,’ Cordelia said. ‘It was awesome and the cover is so beautiful I wanted my own copy. I think Alastair will like it too, the world is inspired by Persian culture and the Shahnameh, which he loves, and the story is very good too.’

Girl, Serpent, Thorn was probably one of her favorite books, and Cordelia ultimately decided to buy it for herself while buying Malice for Alastair. He could always borrow the other book from her, she just wanted to reread it several times and have the gorgeous cover on display.

‘I doubt Alastair minds we’re late,’ Cordelia said. ‘He’s been spending the day with Thomas.’

Cordelia sometimes envied the amount of free time Alastair had compared to her. She hoped it would be the same once she went to university. Of course, Alastair had his memory, he only had to read everything once and he would remember forever. He could save so much time that way.

It still struck her as odd how they didn’t understand Alastair’s memory. Lucie was the way she was because her grandfather was the thief of souls. Same for Tessa, who’d gotten some of her power back after his death. Thomas had the sight because his mother did, and Kamala had healing powers because a fairy had given them to her. But no one knew why Alastair was the way he was. Cordelia knew it still frustrated him, not understanding.

‘I can’t wait until I can go to university,’ Lucie said. ‘I am so done with physics.’

‘Why did you take physics?’ Cordelia asked.

‘No clue,’ Lucie said. ‘I’ll survive another year. Then it’s English literature and creative writing.’

Cordelia wished she knew what she was going to study. Half her biology class was already working on their med school applications, but Cordelia had no clue yet. At least she couldn’t really picture herself as a doctor. Part of her still wanted to be a hero, but what if like Jem she decided to retire early? Being a hero didn’t exactly pay, and it was good to have some education. She just didn’t know what. She knew, of course, it was fine to choose wrong at first. Alastair had realized being a politician wasn’t for him, and was again starting in his first year.

‘At least Alastair promised to help me with my math homework,’ Cordelia said.

Cordelia and Lucie took the metro and arrived at Jem’s house. She’d been here frequently since the summer, and it already felt like Alastair’s house. She’d considered moving in herself too, but felt like she was still too young to move away from her mother and would rather stay for now.

Alastair and Thomas were in the living room, where an animal home was standing on the table next to a bit of neatly folded wrapping paper, not a tear in sight. Alastair had always been a little obsessive in the way he opened gifts. The wrapping paper would be thrown away, yet he always opened it with such a care and he never ripped anything.

‘Happy birthday,’ she said, hugging her brother.

He’d grown more comfortable with physical affection lately, and for Cordelia it felt like it had become easier to reach him. She’d had to get used to not living in the same house as him at first, but Alastair seemed happier here.

‘Thank you,’ Alastair said. ‘I’m officially on the waiting list for a pet hedgehog. It might take some time, but I have some of the supplies I need now. I am open to name suggestions as I have not thought of anything yet.’

‘Pipsqueak!’ Lucie called out.

‘Oddly, you’re not the first person to suggest that,’ Alastair said. ‘No, I am not naming my pet Pipsqueak.’

‘That’s because I already call Alastair that,’ Thomas said.

Alastair rolled his eyes. ‘My hedgehog will have a serious name, not something a toddler would have chosen.’

They didn’t settle on a name yet that evening. Lucie kept suggesting the kind of names Alastair meant to avoid as a joke, and Eugenia did the same when she and Kamala arrived. Kamala had a few good suggestions, and Alastair decided to look into Persian pet names.

Cordelia started feeling like things would be alright again, like things would be normal. Of course, she could never be sure. Tatiana had not turned up again, Gideon had reported her missing and so far the police had no leads. Cordelia didn’t think they’d find her, and she wondered if Tatiana would come back. There was no chance she could bring back her son, not anymore, but Cordelia feared she might want revenge. Right now, she tried not to worry. She would be prepared, yes, but she would also continue to live her life, go to school, worry about things normal girls her age should be worried about. Alastair seemed to be doing a little better as well, although she knew his EMDR days were hard. He was playing music again, and Cordelia loved to listen to him play the piano while she was here.

‘Do you want to play something?’ Cordelia asked at some point, gesturing to the piano.

‘Of course,’ Alastair said. ‘Thomas, I need your help.’

‘I didn’t bring my guitar,’ Thomas said nervously.

‘I don’t need you to play, I need you to turn the page of the sheet music. One of these days I’m going to make a copy and tape this piece together, but it’s 5 pages long.’

Cordelia would always be impressed at how fast Alastair could move his fingers over the keys. He’d tried to teach her when she was younger and she could play some simple melodies with her right hand only, but she’d never gotten the hang of playing with two hands.

‘I recognize this,’ Lucie said when Alastair was finished. ‘I think it’s in Pride and Prejudice. The one with Colin Firth.’

‘That’s possible, it’s well known. The Turkish March by Mozart,’ Alastair said. ‘I’ve been practicing this for the past week.’

‘It’s lovely,’ Cordelia said. ‘I missed hearing you play.’

‘And now you only get to listen when you’re here,’ Alastair said apologetically.

‘I’m here several days a week anyway,’ Cordelia said. ‘I’m glad you’re playing again.’

‘I forgot how much I loved it,’ Alastair said. ‘But I’m happy too. Even Church likes it when I play.’

Cordelia noticed the cat was sitting up from his spot on the couch, listening intently as Alastair started playing something else. Church might hate everyone and everything, but he loved Jem and he loved music.

Thomas continued to do his job as page turner and Cordelia could see the adoration in his eyes as he watched Alastair play. She was glad they’d been able to work it out and were still together, Alastair deserved that.

When Alastair was finished, Lucie decided to present her gift, which was a story she’d written herself in an insanely short time. Cordelia had read it and helped her edit, but the premise was that it was Frozen but with Alastair and Cordelia as the main characters.

‘I’m going to read it as soon as I have the time,’ Alastair promised. ‘This sounds brilliant.’

#Alastair Carstairs #Thomas Lightwood #Cordelia Carstairs #Lucie Herondale #Thomastair #Lucelia #the last hours #tlh #fanfiction #epilogue

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meltingheartsandcores · 3 years ago

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I’m tired, I should be studying, instead I wrote this little ficlet that should probably be the prologue to an actual fic that I might get around to writing (fingers crossed).

We have Immortals, modern sects, and porn. Not entirely sure how else to explain it except none of those are explicit, lol.

Hope you enjoy the product of my mildly sleep deprieved brain!

Being invited to have tea with Zewu-Jun was a high honor, despite the immortal seemingly trying to downplay it as much as he possibly could. However, Nie Mingjue isn’t entirely sure what he’s done to earn the honor. It’s been a long time since either Twin Jade was the Sect Leader, Nie Mingjue has spoken with the current Sect Leader Lan Tengfei infrequently over the years when their sect business intermingled or there was a conference, but he wasn’t particularly close to the Lan Sect. And the Twin Jades enjoy their privacy. Enough so that there’s not a single photograph of either of them out there.

So it was very startingly to get the invitation.

Zewu-Jun treating him like an equal and friend is equally startling.

Somehow, not the most startling thing to happen on the trip. No, that would be the portrait of Wei Wuxian. Nie Huaisang’s husband. He thinks. Nie Mingjue isn’t actually sure if they’re married or just act like it. Although, knowing them, that’s how they want everyone to think.

Still, the clearly very old portrait of Wei Wuxian was a little disturbing. Especially with the name below being Wei Wuxian’s, correct characters and all. Even more so after Zewu-Jun noticed him staring at it and decides to give him some utterly terrible information.

“My brother’s husband, from his first life.” Oh. It was that Wei Wuxian. Yiling Lazou Wei Wuxian.

How is this getting worse?

“Oh?” Because screaming was undignified and not something to be done in front of immortals. Later. In his car. And then he’s calling Nie Huaisang to yell at him because of course his brother just had to shake up with the immortals husband. Maybe. Maybe it’s just a massive coincidence. (Nie Mingjue’s luck is never good enough for coincidences.)

“Yes, after the resurrection his core was never strong enough to cultivate immortality. When Wangji realized it, he tried to stop his own cultivation, but it was too late. Wuxian lasted nearly two hundred years, and not a day goes by that Wangji doesn’t miss him.” Oh, Zewu-Jun was sad. Nothing Nie Mingjue can say will make him not sad. In fact, he’s pretty sure anything close to the truth of what Wei Wuxian is doing now will just upset him. “The juniors find it, romantic, that he’s decided to wait for Wuxian to be reincarnated.”

Well. It does sound romantic.

But Zewu-Jun’s face, he’s irritated and upset, so clearly he doesn’t agree with the juniors. It sounds romantic, but the reality, “He must be very lonely.” Nie Mingjue guesses.

Zewu-Jun nods, “We have each other, but we were the only ones from our generation to cultivate immortality. There are many people we miss, and as time seperates us further from the present, it’s harder to connect with the new disciples.” Zewu-Jun admits. Nie Mingjue nods, he’s never considered that. How isolating it must be to have lived so long. The Nie clan, doesn’t really get immortals. Honestly, they’re lucky if they hit a hundred. Most top out at eighty due to their cultivation style.

“How would he know, that he’s been reincarnated? I mean, I think Huaisang’s said some things about faces getting reused due to limited genetics and the growing population.” Actually Wei Wuxian said that. Something to that effect at least. Nie Huaisang was better with people and manipulating situations. He does really well running the business side of the Nie Sect. Even if he refuses to accept any credit.

Zewu-Jun smiles a little sadly, “Well, I suppose we’ll know when we see him. Pictures work well enough, as we’re learning. We’ve found a few people who we knew in our first lives reincarnated.”

Nie Mingjue nods, he should tell Zewu-Jun. He really should. Maybe it’s just a look alike. Unlikely. Nie Mingjue’s never that lucky. Nie Mingjue’s started to pull his phone out of his pocket before remembering his manners and asking while holding it in front of himself, “Uh, do you mind if I?” Zewu-Jun furrows his brow but gestures for him to continue. Nie Mingjue nods and opens his phone, scrolling through the pictures Nie Huaisang had sent him. Not for the first time, he really wished Nie Huaisang wouldn’t send so many half-naked or fully-naked pictures of Wei Wuxian to him. Thankfully, it was not all Nie Huaisang sent to him, so he did come across a picture of a fully dressed Wei Wuxian. Nie Huaisang was also there, but they weren’t doing anything. Nie Huaisang had snapped it while they were out walking and Nie Mingjue had wanted to know where the fuck Nie Huaisang had gone at one am. “Just, uh, he seemed familiar.” Nie Mingjue explains, turning the phone around to show Zewu-Jun.

Zewu-Jun blinks then reaches out, hesitating a moment before taking Nie Mingjue’s phone. “That. Is definitely Wei Wuxian.” Zewu-Jun states, and then he starts touching the screen, which makes Nie Mingjue very nervous and uncomfortable. Because Nie Huaisang sends him very questionable pictures. Nie Mingjue is happy his brother is comfortable with his body, he just wishes he wouldn’t text him explicit pictures of his maybe-boyfriend that sometimes also have him naked in them. Nie Huaisang has always like pushing Nie Mingjue’s boundaries, and honestly, Nie Mingjue would rather he be pushing this one than certain other ones. Still. It makes him nervous when Zewu-Jun taps his phone and his eyes blow wide.

Yeah. That’s not good.

Zewu-Jun blinks and regains his composure, handing the phone back, “May I ask how you know him?”

“...How honest do you want me to be?” Nie Mingjue asks, shutting off his phone and pocketing it without looking at whatever Zewu-Jun saw. He’d like to be able to keep looking Zewu-Jun in the eye for this conversation.

Zewu-Jun raises an eyebrow, almost admonishingly, “As honest as possible. You don’t seem to type to beat around the bush.”

He wasn’t. He just really didn’t want to tell Zewu-Jun what Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian get up to.

“He works with my brother.” Nie Mingjue states vaguely, earning another raised eyebrow from Zewu-Jun.

“Is he a cultivator?”

“Used to be. He had a big falling out with the Jiang a few years back and kind of stopped.” Nie Mingjue shrugs, “He doesn’t talk about it.” All he knew about it was rumour. And the Lans don’t do rumours.

“Ah. So what work does he do with Huaisang?”

...Did he tell Zewu-Jun his brothers name? Nie Huaisang is almost as unknown to the world as the Twin Jades. Purposefully so. The Nie have always been rather private with their members, but when Nie Huaisang was old enough to have an opinion on a public presence and vehemently deny having one, nothing about him was released to the public. Not even other cultivation sects as Nie Huaisang wasn’t a practicing cultivator. He trained. As he was supposed to. But he didn’t do any night hunts. He had no connection to Nie Mingjue on the business end of the Sect either.

So, what?

“How do you know his name?” Nie Mingjue asks, making Zewu-Jun blink in plain confusion. “Huaisang’s name isn’t known to anyone outside the Nie sect. Not in connection to me.” Nie Mingjue states, now a little angry. Did someone tell Zewu-Jun? Who? How? Why would he even care about Huaisang?

“He’s in your phone.” Zewu-Jun states simply.

And that’d be a fine answer.

If Nie Huaisang was ‘Huaisang’ in his phone.

But he wasn’t.

He was Reuben. Courtesy of Wei Wuxian. (Wei Wuxian was ‘Stitch’, no Nie Mingjue didn’t understand the names and he didn’t really want to. He’s mostly worried it’s a weird sex thing and he prefers to be as ignorant as possible in that aspect.)

“I thought Lan’s don’t lie.” Although, Zewu-Jun wasn’t, technically, lying.

But he doesn’t deny it. “Could we sit?” Zewu-Jun suggests, gesturing to the table that had been set up for them. Nie Mingjue nods and sits opposite to Zewu-Jun, pouring them some tea. “I apologize for the deception, however I’ve never actually done this before.” He better not be suggesting what Nie Mingjue thinks he’s suggesting. “In the recent past, when we’ve discovered our reincarnated friends, we’ve more or less left them alone.” Oh. Good. He’s not being propositioned.

Wait.

What?

Nie Mingjue blinks, now thoroughly caught off guard, “Um. What.”

Zewu-Jun smiles gently, understandingly, “Due to certain aspects of your previous life, I felt the need to check in on you, make sure you were doing well. I, well, I assumed your family was the same. Hence, why I know Huaisang’s name despite you keeping him rather off the grid.”

“He’s not off the grid. He just has no public connection to me.” Nie Huaisang was almost constantly online. Especially with his ‘job’.

“Ah. So, what work does he and Wei Wuxian do?” Zewu-Jun asks before taking a drink of his tea.

Nie Mingjue considers what he knows about the Lan, and then realizes he really doesn’t want to have this conversation. Luckily for him (or unluckily most of the time), he can just show Zewu-Jun on his phone. “Um, you might want to put that down.” Nie Mingjue suggests, pulling out his phone and turning it on, quickly going to the app Nie Huaisang downloaded on his phone that he never goes on, and opens it up to Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian’s account. Sliding it across the table as Zewu-Jun dubiously puts down his teacup.

Zewu-Jun blinks, then sighs, “I can’t say, I’m particularly surprised with Wei Wuxian’s career choice.”

“...Seriously.”

“You did not hear them. I’m aware of the publics perception of us, particularly Wangji, but trust me. He’s not nearly as prudish as people seem to think.” Zewu-Jun states, sliding the phone back with a rueful smile and a familiar look.

Nie Mingjue exits out of the app before shutting off and pocketing his phone. He knew that look. The look of an elder brother who really didn’t need to know so much about their younger brother’s sex life. He knew that look well. “Right. Speaking of Hanguang-Jun, how would he react?”

Zewu-Jun purses his lips. “I can’t say he’ll be particularly favourable. Wangji’s always been quite, possessive.”

“Wei Wuxian is persuasive. I’m kind of curious as to who would falter first.” Nie Mingjue snorts, picking up his own cup of tea. It was good tea.

Zewu-Jun’s eyebrows were furrowed, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Wuxian’s not going give up his livelyhood. He enjoys it. Even if he falls back in love with Hanguang-Jun, I’m not sure he’ll quit it.” Nie Mingjue states, shaking his head. It was an understatement. Wei Wuxian loves his job. As he so often gushes. Nie Mingjue’s honestly just happy Wei Wuxian doesn’t give him details.

Zewu-Jun slowly nods, understanding dawning, “You think Wei-gongzi will convince Wangji to do porn.” Zewu-Jun winces, “I, hate that I cannot say it’s out of the realm of possibilities.”

Nie Mingjue snorts and then smirks, “Ah, Zewu-Jun, how about a friendly bet?”

Zewu-Jun’s brows pinch slightly, eye narrowing, before he smirks, “Only if you call me Lan Xichen.”

Ohhhkay. Zewu-Jun had said to at the beginning of their meeting, but Nie Mingjue had honestly kind of ignored it. Immortals are a big deal. But then again. He was about to gamble with one. “Ok, Lan Xichen, why don’t we make a bet in favour of our, brothers.” Nie Mingjue isn’t entirely sure what else to refer to them as. If Nie Huaisang was married, then technically Wei Wuxian would be his brother. If they’re not, he might as well be at this point either way.

“Are Huaisang and Wuxian married?” Lan Xichen cuts in, confused.

“I’m not entirely sure. Maybe. Not important.” Nie Mingjue shakes his head, “If Hanguang-Jun manages to convince Wei Wuxian to quit his work, you win, and if Wei Wuxian manages to convince Hanguang-Jun to do porn, I win.”

Lan Xichen nods, smiling with interest, “And what are we betting?”

Nie Mingjue smirks, this was going to be fun.

#Lan Xichen #Nie Mingjue #implied sangxian #implied previous wangxian #lxc #nmj #cql #The names in Mingjue’s phone are not a sex thing #It’s just the characters from Lilo and Stitch #They’re not that mean to nmj #My writing

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serendipityseulgi · 4 years ago

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8 Ways of Love.

– kim hongjoong

according to the ancient greeks, there are eight different types of love. here is:

･*:༅｡ the one known as mania, the obsessive love.

aka, the kind of love that can lead you to obsession, jealousy, and madness and can be toxic if not kept under control.

TW // sexual harassment.

* italic text indicates flashback.

8 ways of love series; part ii

A not-so-healthy love story in which you reach your breaking point in your relationship, giving Hongjoong an ultimatum – to fix his toxic tendencies or to let you walk out on him forever.

love catalyst: survival.

There are times where you often underestimate how much Hongjoong truly loves you.

You don’t always fully grasp the extent he will go to make sure that everyone knows your his, and his only. The limits he will push to prove just how much you matter in his life, and the boundaries he will cross to ensure that no one would ever, ever take you away from him.

How he absolutely cannot live without you, and you can’t live without him.

Because he just loves you so much that the feeling almost consumes him, and it drives him crazy. He knows how much of an impact you have on him. How you could do absolutely nothing and he would still kiss the ground you walk on. How he worships every single part of you and will go to the absolute ends of the earth just to keep you forever. How he simply could not care about a single thing in this world except for you.

And for most people, they strive for that kind of love. The kind that consumes you so much that you would do absolutely anything and everything for your partner.

But the way Hongjoong loves you is intense, and it’s obsessive. It’s exhausting it absolutely drains all the energy out of you. To have to love and care for one another more than yourselves. That no matter what kind of shit you put each other through, you’re always going to be together.

It’s overbearing and overwhelming in all the wrong ways.

You hate how much Hongjoong loves you. Because he treats you like shit. Makes you feel like shit. Acts like you aren’t shit.

Not without him at least.

It’s unhealthy, to put it simply.

Neither one of you are that delusional, though.

You’re both painfully aware how borderline toxic your relationship is. Hongjoong’s manipulative in certain ways and he uses that to his advantage. He won’t admit it but he loves how codependent you are on him. He knows that he can fuck up a million times and you’re always gonna be there to pick up the pieces and love him again and again. He makes promises he can never keep and gives you false hope just to make sure you stay in his arms, even if it’s only for one more day. He hears you say that you hate him more than you love him, but it doesn’t matter because he knows how you feel deep down. You’re always going to love him.

He defends his behaviour, constantly telling you he only acts that way because he loves you and wants to protect you. And you know he’s not a terrible person. Aside from his possessive nature and his intense anger problem, he’s actually one of the best people you know. It’s contradictory in every sense.

It was just the way he loves you that brings out the worst in him.

You know there’s no good that could possibly come from being together anymore. You both know that by now.

But the truth is, neither one of you will ever walk away.

12:41 AM

It’s past midnight when you walk in your apartment, your heart heavy and filled with despair. Your feet hurt from standing in those wretched heels for hours, your mascara is dripping down your tear-stained face, and your head is pounding from the events that transpired only a few hours prior.

You have no words.

All you want to do is curl up in your bed and sleep away your worries. You want to ignore everything that’s happened even for just a few hours and deal with the damage in the morning, but you know he won’t let you.

He never does.

When you hear the door slam behind you, you feel a sense of deja vu.

You’ve been in this exact situation more times than you could count and you’re starting to think there’s actually no hope left in your boyfriend.

At this point in time you don’t even know if this relationship is worth salvaging anymore, and the very thought almost has you in tears.

You’re feeling a million things right now but above all, you’re just pissed beyond belief and you want to cry and wallow away in your tears. You feel every negative emotion surging through your body right now and it makes you all the more exhausted.

Hongjoong stands behind you, equally as pissed, and you refuse to acknowledge him because you know it’s all his fault.

It’s always his fucking fault.

“Y/n, look at me.” he commands, but you don’t listen.

Your back is still turned to him, eyes fixated on the marble pattern on your kitchen island as you try to suppress your anger. Your eyes start to water again and your body begins to shake.

He waits for you to face him.

But you don’t.

Because you don’t even want to talk to him right now, let alone look him in the face. You swear you’ll punch him if you do, so you save himself the trouble and start walking towards the direction of your bedroom.

Hongjoong is fast though, and he’s quick to grab onto your arm to pull you in front of him.

“Can you say something?” he asks, a little too aggressively for your liking, and you just stare at him. The glare in your eyes never falters and for a few seconds you two are just staring each other down with you still refusing to speak.

You take the opportunity to yank your arm out of his grip and he lets out a frustrated groan.

“I’m tired.” you say with a blank stare, prepared to walk away again.

“So you’re not even gonna talk at me?!” he asks with that aggression still evident in his tone.

You breathe in a heavy sigh before whipping around to face your boyfriend, your eyes narrowing immediately when you make contact with him. “What do you want me to say, Hongjoong?” you ask with frustrated tears running down your face. “What the fuck do you want me to say when you keep doing this over and over again?!”

“All you ever do is walk away when you’re pissed at me and you go off the next morning talking shit to your friends. So if you have something to say, say it to my fucking face.” he spits at you with menace and your eyes darken.

“Well what the fuck is the difference of me going to my friends and going to you?! It’s not like you ever fucking listen to me anyways! I’m sick of having to repeat myself day after day! The amount of times this has happened and the amount of times I tell you the same exact thing! When I keep asking you to change and you never do! We have this exact conversation all the time, what is the use of me talking anymore?! Nothing ever changes so why the fuck should I bother wasting all my time and energy fighting with you about the same shit that’s gonna piss you off next week?!” you shout before turning around once again.

Hongjoong doesn’t say anything back to that, because deep down he knows you’re right. He knows that you’re a broken record at this point, he knows that anything you say now would just be reused arguments he’s heard in the past, he knows that he’s not going to listen to you. So he doesn’t retaliate.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to walk away?” he counters.

You take in a deep breathe. “Why don’t you tell me exactly it is that you want to hear? That I’m just going to accept the fact that you never fucking listen to me? That you somehow find it acceptable to be punching random guys in the face for looking at me? That we fight about the same shit every week? Or how you can’t seem to control your anger? How you have absolutely no regard for how you make me feel? How you think acting so possessive over me is something to be proud of?! How we’ve been together for three fucking years and the more days I spend with you the more I realize I’d rather be dead than be with you!”

Hongjoong’s face falls for a second at your words but you soon come to regret it when he’s pushing you against your counter. He’s seething inside, you can sense it. You know your words cut deep but Hongjoong won’t admit it. His ego is too big for that.

“You’re one to fucking talk.” he grits his teeth. “You act like such a fucking bitch all the time and yet I’m still willing to bend over backwards just to keep your ass happy. You overlook all the shit I do for you because you’re selfish. You think I don’t listen to you? When have you ever listened to me?! You’re so fucking ungrateful when all I’ve ever done was love you!”

You scoff. “This is what you call loving me?!” you gesture to your current position. “Hongjoong do you even realize what we’re doing right now?! Do you even acknowledge how messed up you are?! When you go around knocking guys’ teeth out for doing so much as looking at me, for picking fights with your own friends when they’re being friendly towards me, when you fucking call me names and blame me for the fact that you can’t bear the thought of another male giving me an ounce of their attention, do you think that’s fucking normal?! You’re just fucking insane!”

“You think I do that shit because I like it?” Hongjoong hissed. “No, I fucking do it because I know how guys think y/n! They’d take advantage of you if they got the chance! Use you like you’re a fucking toy to them or something! You can’t trust these people all the time! I fucking act that way to protect you!”

“Yeah is that it?” you sneer. “Or is it because you’re just so fragile and insecure inside you’re too afraid that one of these days someone might actually take me away from you and I’ll fucking leave. You think you can control them and control me by threatening them, assaulting them? You go off and snap at people who piss you off because you think you have some sort of claim over me! So are you sure you do it to protect me? Because I don’t think so. I think you do it 'cause you know you can’t function without me. Because deep down you know you’re just a little bitch without me. You’re nothing without me.” you spit at him.

“Fuck you.” Hongjoong shoves you harder into the counter, a sharp pain shooting up your spine. His arms are gripping tightly onto your own and you don’t think he realizes he’s hurting you because he’s too focused on your words and how badly they’re affecting him.

“You have a big fucking mouth sometimes you know that? You like to talk like you’re so big and purposely rile me up, huh? Who the fuck do you think you are catching an attitude with me? Watch your mouth and how you talk to me or-”

“Or what? What are you gonna do, Joong?” you challenge, shoving him away from you. “You gonna break up with me? Kick me out again? Call me a fucking slut and send me on my way?” you mock. “Or are you gonna hit me this time? Huh? Because I get you so fucking angry. Why don’t you try it? Instead of punching holes in the wall why don’t you try doing it to my face instead? I bet you want to. I bet you really want to fucking hit me. So do it. Hit me!” you push him back. “Fucking hit me!” you scream as you repeatedly hit him in the chest and Hongjoong snaps, grabbing onto your wrists tightly.

“You’re a fucking crazy bitch.” he seethes. “I may be a piece of shit but I’m not fucking abusive. I would never hit you no matter how mad you make me. So fuck you for ever thinking I’d put my hands on you. Fuck you.” he pushes you off of him.

He storms off into your bedroom, slamming the door like he always does. You stand there in the middle of your living room shaking your head. This is nothing new. It’s nothing you aren’t already used to.

You sit on the couch, burying your face in your knees as you cry. You cry with a heavy heart because you don’t know what else to do.

All you’re left with is your own thoughts, thinking about all the times you should’ve walked away.

Because God knows it should’ve happened a long time ago.

You remember the first incident like it was yesterday.

2 years, 6 months, 7 days ago.

You remember it was only six months into being with him when he had assaulted your ex in front of your eyes.

There was no remorse, no regard, nothing for the human life in front of him. Just pure rage that that good-for-nothing scumbag tried to touch you. His prized possession. The love of his life. The only thing that ever mattered to him.

Seeing your ex-boyfriend touching you like you were still his fuelled a fire inside Hongjoong like never before and he absolutely lost it.

“S-stop Chris, seriously get off me,” you stutter trying to push the male off of you.

You don’t remember how you got yourself into this situation through your drunken state.

All you know is one second you’re dancing with Irene and the next you’re pressed up against a brick wall by your ex-boyfriend.

He’s pressing you into the wall so hard it makes your body hurt and you can feel his boner rubbing against your thigh. You want to scream but when you try no sound comes out. You’re crying and your throat closes up because you can’t breath with him pinning you so tightly.

“Y/n, baby relax.” he whispers and you smell the stench of alcohol lingering on his breath. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’ve never hurt you, right?” you feel like you can’t breathe. “I just wanna talk, that’s it...” his voice is gentle but it doesn’t provide you any comfort whatsoever.

“Y-you don’t have to pin me against the wall if you wanna t-talk, Chris.” you breathe out. “G-get off of me.”

“I just missed you,” he says gripping you tightly. “You missed me too right?”

“Fuck off!” you try to scream, but his heavy weight on you is restricting you from moving a muscle. “M-my boyfriend is gonna find me and he’s-”

“He’s what?” Chris snickers. “You’re dating that pussy bitch Hongjoong, right? Yeah, as if he’s gonna come to your rescue when everyone knows he’s a fucking bitch boy. You know better than to go for nice guys, right y/n?” he chuckles.

“Y-you’re drunk, Chris. Let me go.” you try to shove him back but he’s much bigger than you. You stand absolutely no chance.

“Where is your little boyfriend anyways, huh? ‘Cause I’ve been watching you since the moment you got here and all I saw was you with Irene and Seulgi. Does your boyfriend even know you’re slutting it up at a bar without him?” Chris taunts you and you cry even harder. “I wonder what he would do if he saw me and you together right now. Probably nothing right? He’s too nice for his own good. Wouldn’t touch a fucking fly.”

“Please just-”

“Relax, y/n. I know you miss me. Miss what we had. You don’t always have to play hard to get,” he whispers in your ear, pushing your dress up your thighs. “Just enjoy it and-”

“Y/n?” you hear a voice call behind you, and you recognize it almost immediately.

“Joong?” you call through your hazy vision and you take the opportunity to push the man off of you. “J-joong, I wasn’t doing what you think, he pinned me, I-i tried to get him off but he wouldn’t, fuck, it’s not what it looks like-” you can’t formulate a coherent sentence because you know exactly what it looked like and you’re afraid he won’t believe you.

“Y/n get behind me right now.” he states calmly, and you don’t hesitate. You run up behind your boyfriend as Chris stands in front of him with a cold stare.

Your heart is still beating hard against your chest and you study Hongjoong’s expression to see what his next move would be because frankly, you don’t know.

“Can I kindly ask what the fuck were you doing to MY girlfriend?” Hongjoong asks, voice still calm and collected it almost scares you.

“Hey man, no need to get upset, we were just chatting.” Chris raises his hands in defence.

Hongjoong laughs, but there’s not a hint of amusement in his tone. “Chatting, huh?” he mocks. “About what?”

“Look, with all due respect, I know she’s your girl now and everything but you have to understand me and y/n have a lot of history. Just rehashing some old shit-”

“No you weren’t.” Hongjoong interrupts.

“Excuse me?” Chris raises an eyebrow. “I’m sorry but you’re being pretty fucking hostile right now, don’t you think? Like, what exactly are you trying to accomplish, you’re not very intimidating.” Chris laughs.

Your eyes are moving back and forth between the two males and you don’t exactly know what’s going to happen next. You’ve never been in this kind of situation before, let alone predict how Hongjoong would retaliate. You’ve never seen him angry before.

“You wanna know what it looked like to me?” he asks rhetorically, slowly walking towards your ex. “You were forcing her against her will to talk to you.” he states, still calm. “You were touching her. You were groping her.” Hongjoong begins backing him into the wall. “You were sexually harassing her. After she begged you to stop.” he states. “You lifted up her dress, and then what?” Hongjoong’s cornered him into the wall. “You were gonna fucking rape her. Right?”

“Woah, woah, hey, I was not gonna fucking rape her-” Chris defends.

“No?” Hongjoong raises his eyebrow. “Are you saying you weren’t trying to fuck my girlfriend?”

Chris scoffs. “That isn’t rape-”

“But she told you to stop, didn’t she?” Hongjoong folds his arms across his chest and your eyes are bulging out of your head as you witness this new side o him. “And if I wasn’t here right now... what exactly would you have done?”

“Why don’t you ask your girlfriend? She seemed to be enjoying it, right?” he turns to look at you. “Admit it, y/n. Tell your bitch of a boyfriend that you’re better off with me. Hey, do you know how fucking easy it is to get with your girlfriend? Ask me, I have experience.” Chris chuckles. “What do you think would’ve happened if you weren’t here right now? Y/n probably would’ve let me fuck the shit out of her because that’s how easy she is. Probably would’ve fucked her better than you ever have-”

Hongjoong lets out a chuckle before finally snapping. You see his fist raise up in one swift motion, and he punches him. Hongjoong punches the shit out of your ex and you let out a shocked gasp. Your hands fly over your mouth, covering your face in surprise.

“Hongjoong!” you try to stop your boyfriend but he doesn’t listen.

“Keep talking, I fucking dare you.” Hongjoong spits. He’s still punching him and it doesn’t seem like he plans on stopping anytime soon. “Your mouth is fucking shit, you know that? You’re a fucking scumbag.”

He punches him again.

“You’re a fucking piece of shit talking about girls this way.” Another punch.

“You would go as far to fucking rape her if you didn’t get what you want?” Hongjoong’s fist collides with his face again. “That’s the kind of guy you are?”

You hear another punch.

“Then you deserve to fucking die here.”

He’s hovering over your ex’s body, continuously delivering blows to his head. He doesn’t stop even when you start to see blood. It’s everywhere, coming out of his eyes, his mouth, it’s covering his entire face and it scares you.

“Hongjoong stop!” you call.

“S-stop” Chris chokes out, trying to use whatever strength he had left to stop your boyfriend from continuing his assault.

“Joong stop, you’re going to kill him!” you scream.

“Maybe I should.” Hongjoong chuckles menacingly. “He deserves it, don’t you think?” he glances at you and your eyes widen.

You shake your head. “Please.” your voice is quiet. “Just leave him.” and finally your boyfriend relents.

He spares another glance to the bloodied man on the floor who’s coughing profusely to catch his breathe, and he leans over him.

“If you ever fucking touch y/n again, I will fucking kill you.” Hongjoong growled. “I will hunt you down and fucking kill you, and I’m gonna make it slow and painful. If you do so much as breathe the same air next to her, I can promise you, I will come after you. So don’t ever think about coming near her again, you understand?” Chris doesn’t say anything and it pisses Hongjoong off.

Hongjoong grabs onto his collar, lifting him up till their faces are almost touching. “Do. You. Understand?”

“Y-you’re fucking crazy.” Chris manages to say through his coughing fit.

“Yeah I may be,” Hongjoong chuckles. “But I’m not a fucking rapist like you. I don’t force girls to do things they don’t want to. I don’t try and take away what’s already taken. Y/n’s fucking mine, you’ll never go near her again.”

Your eyes are wide with horror and you see your boyfriend’s fist covered in Chris’ blood. Your eyes scan your ex’s body laying limp on the ground, spitting out the remnants of blood out of his mouth. Hongjoong stands up looking over him, and you’re frozen with shock.

“I was fucking wrong, y/n. You should fucking leave. You don’t want to be with a guy like this, he’s a fucking psychopath-” Hongjoong kicks the words right out of his mouth and you jump back with a gasp.

“Lay here and rot.”

Hongjoong grabs onto your hand, dragging you away, and even if you want to pull your hand away, you don’t. You’re too scared to.

You’re left in a state of shock witnessing your sweet boyfriend nearly kill the man you once loved. Granted, it was probably well deserved given that he was harassing you and was about to do far worse had Hongjoong not shown up. But you don’t think it should’ve been to such an extent.

You don’t talk for the entirety of the car ride, but you do spare small glances at your boyfriend who’s eyes were directed onto the road.

Hongjoong can sense your intense stare and he sighs, turning briefly at a stoplight to face you.

“I only did that because he was gonna hurt you.” he sighs. “You know that right?”

You nod slowly. “Y-yeah.”

“Don’t be scared, baby.” he says gently, reaching over to grab your hand as you flinch slightly.

The light turns green. He averts his gaze back onto the road, but he rubs the back of your hand in an attempt to comfort you.

Your heart is racing and you know you shouldn’t fear him.

But you can’t help it.

Seeing him like that was a first, and you didn’t like it.

“Y-you didn’t have to hurt him that bad.” you whisper.

“You’re not defending him are you?” he glances at you.

“I-i’m not, Joong.” you’re quick to say.

“So why does it sound like you are?” he badgers.

“You almost killed him.” you swallow the lump in your throat.

“He was touching you, I saw him. He was going to-”

“But he didn’t.” you interrupt before he can finish his sentence. “You stopped him before he could do anything. And I’m thankful that you did but... that should’ve been it. We should’ve walked away, but you just ... you kept going.”

“He was hurting you, y/n, I couldn’t let that slide.” he tries to defend.

“But you weren’t you back there, Joong. I’ve never seen you so... violent. I didn’t like it.”

“I’m sorry baby. I couldn’t help it. I was just protecting you.”

His words repeat over and over in your head, but you can’t ignore the sinking feeling in your gut. He almost killed him. He threatened to kill him. You’ve seen possessive before, but not to this degree.

No, what happened back there wasn’t normal.

You don’t talk anymore after that, instead counting down the minutes till you were safe and sound in the comfort of your home.

When you do get home you run off into the shower immediately, wanting to wash away how disgusting and dirty you felt after what you witnessed.

You shoot Irene a text to tell her you made it home okay and she lets you know she’s gone home with Seulgi and is glad you’re safe.

You spend a long time in the shower, trying to ease your racing mind and your thumping heart. You know Hongjoong’s waiting for you in bed, he can’t sleep properly without you in his arms. But you dread the moment you have to get out and face the reality of what happened. So you choose to stay in there until the heat runs out.

You hate to admit that you don’t want to be near him right now, but you can’t help it when your mind keeps flashing back to seeing your boyfriend’s eyes fill with rage. How he went from being so calm to snapping in an instant. How he mostly like broke your ex’s nose and most likely gave him a concussion, and left him there without a single ounce of guilt.

You don’t say anything when you enter your bedroom, and Hongjoong notices your distant behaviour.

“Y/n, can you come here please?” he asks gently and you lock eyes with him.

You don’t know what else to do except comply, and the minute you’re sat next to him, he pulls you into his arms.

“I’m sorry if I scared you earlier.” he apologizes, and you snuggle deeper into his arms.

“It’s okay, it just.. caught me by surprise that’s all.” your throat burns as you suppress your tears.

“You know why I did it though. I would never let anyone hurt you.” he states and you nod. “I just hate the thought of someone else touching you. Especially him.”

“I know.”

“I had to get rid of him someway, right?” he asks, it’s a rhetoric question so you stay silent. “This way he won’t ever come near you again.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” your voice is quiet and your vision starts to blur from holding in your tears.

“I love you, y/n.” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your head.

“I love you too.” you choke out.

“You’re all mine right?”

You nod again, this time letting the tears fall down your face.

“All yours.”

You don’t want to say it. You don’t want to give him the power of being able to control you. But you tell him what he wants to hear because you don’t know what he would do if you didn’t.

“Promise me you won’t ever leave me.” he begs his arms tightening around your body. “I don’t know what I would do if you ever did.”

Your heart is beating rapidly in your chest that it hurts and your mind is panicking with so many thoughts. You’re scared, but you also know you still love him.

And you want to give him the benefit of the doubt that this incident was just a one time slip up, so you forgive him, and you commit to his promise.

“I promise.” you gulp. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Little did you know how true that statement would be.

Hongjoong falls asleep next to you, with your head on his chest, and the sound of his heartbeat rings in your ears. You look up at his sleeping state and your eyes start to water once more.

You think about how he was a good boyfriend, one that made you happy and did everything he could to ensure you stayed that way. He was sweet, he was kind, he was everything you wanted.

You look at Hongjoong and think about how he made you smile and laugh like no other person ever had, how made you feel safe in his arms, how he kissed away your tears when you were sad, and how he treated like you an absolute goddess, never making you think otherwise. He was there to provide you comfort and pleasure, and he was good at everything he did.

Up until that point he was perfect.

A little too perfect that you knew there had to have been something wrong with him.

And now you knew.

You tried to rationalize his flaws with all the redeeming qualities he had.

He was good to you.

He absolutely doted you.

He loved you.

So why was it right now, looking at him at this very moment, you wanted to throw up in disgust at the mere sight of him.

2:07 AM

You think about that first incident as you sit curled up on your couch, and you’re left wondering why you continued to stay after that. That should’ve been your first sign to get the fuck out and leave.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

And right now, you’re looking at yourself with disgust.

Seeing as how things haven’t gotten any better.

No improvement, no changes.

Nothing.

So why the fuck are you still here? you ask yourself.

But you know it’s because you love him. That you’ve never loved anyone the way you loved Hongjoong. You knew from the moment you met him you knew you wanted him to be your forever.

But this wasn’t what you meant.

This wasn’t what you signed up for when you gave your entire being to this very man.

You’re smart enough to know you’re only going to keep getting hurt. But your love for him remained so strong and completely outweighed the bad. You know you’ll never be able to bring yourself out the door and leave him behind.

You’re stuck with him. Forever.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of your bedroom door opening, and you watch as Hongjoong passes the kitchen into the living room where you’re sat. You don’t know how much time has passed until you look over to the clock and see that it’s been well over an hour and you have yet to move a muscle.

Hongjoong walks over to you as he sits down beside you.

“Are you done having your bitch fit?” he chided and your eyes narrow at him.

“That’s how you’re really going to start this conversation right now?” you scoff.

“What, you think I was gonna come here and beg for your forgiveness? I didn’t peg you for an idiot, y/n.” Hongjoong rolls his eyes at you.

“You’re unbelievable sometimes, you know that? It’s like you want to keep fighting with me!” you shout, getting up from your spot to stand in front of him. “You make me feel like I don’t have a right to be pissed at you and then you come back an hour later and talk to me this way?”

“I came down here to tell you to get the fuck up to bed. Like aren’t you fucking tired of doing this every time? Let’s just fucking be done with this shit and go to sleep and-”

“And what? Deal with it in the morning? Or fuck me until I eventually forgive you? Because that’s always what happens right? You know exactly how to make things better, right? But it’s always temporary! We’re always just gonna keep coming back to this over and over again! Nothing’s changed in the last three years!”

“You’re constantly throwing around the fact that I don’t listen to you, that I don’t fucking change, but what about you? What have you done for me to compromise?!” he retorts.

“Compromise on what?! All I’ve been asking you to do was to control your behaviour! Stop acting so possessive and violent over me because you should know by now, I’m not going anywhere! But you keep doing this, you keep lashing out on other people who don’t always deserve you, you put me in a position where I have to fix your mess, while you live a guilt free life! You’re just driving me away at this point! You continue to lie to me, saying you’re going to change and fix your behaviour but you never do! Why can’t you just do this one simple thing for me?!” you badgered with annoyance.

“Because you’re mine!” he screams at you.

You look at him with a glare, and you shake your head.

“But that’s the thing Hongjoong, I’m not! I’m nobody’s! I belong to fucking nobody but myself. You don’t fucking own me Joong. I’m with you because I love you. I stay with you because I love you. I can acknowledge that you might be bad for me but I choose to put that shit aside because I fucking love you! You make me fucking miserable and yet I stay with you when I know I fucking shouldn’t! That’s how much control you have over me!” you return.

“And everything I’ve done for you is because you have control over me! Why don’t you understand that?!” he asks, getting up in your face.

“This is fucking toxic, this isn’t good for us!” you pull at your hair in frustration.

“It’s not like you’re going anywhere anyways! If you think this relationship is too much for you, why do you continue defending me and putting up with it?!” he argues.

“Because I’m still trying to make this work!” you cry. “I’m still trying because I still love you! But I can’t keep seeing past all these problems we have! I’m done overlooking all the shit you put me through. I’m reaching my last fucking straw, Joong! I’m reaching my fucking breaking point!” you scream in frustration. “So let me make one thing clear, the minute I decide I’m done, that’s it. I will fucking leave you if you push me to it, and you’re gonna let me because you don’t own me.” you say. “I’m giving you one last chance to prove to me that you’re gonna fix up and change your attitude. I want you to prove me wrong, prove that you aren’t gonna screw up again. Because the minute you fuck up, Im gone.” you threaten.

“You’re just fucking saying that.” he scoffs. “You always fucking say that and then you come back to me!”

Your mouth falls open in disbelief. “You know what, fine. Watch me leave then.” you stomp upstairs and Hongjoong follows suit.

You close the door behind you with force but Hongjoong opens it before you can shut it fully and he watches you messily grab random articles of clothing, pushing past him to retrieve every item you can take.

You’ve always made empty threats, you’ve never actually left him before and he knows you won’t. You’ve never been able to.

But when he sees you grabbing a duffle bag and filling it with clothes it actually starts to scare him.

“Cut the fucking act, y/n. I don’t know what you’re trying to prove-“

You stop forcefully throwing hangers around and throwing your clothes around so carelessly to look at him. “You think I won’t leave you? I told you to fucking watch me.” you state continuing your haphazard packing.

Hongjoong lets out a frustrated sigh and grabs onto your arms to stop you. “Stop it.”

“Fuck you, let go of me.” you spit.

“I told you to fucking stop.” he says through gritted teeth.

“I swear to god if you don’t fucking let go of my arm-”

He doesn’t let you finish. Instead he pins you to the bed, hovering over you. “You’re not fucking leaving, stop being so fucking dramatic and just go to fucking bed! It’s fucking late, you need to chill out!” he scolds but you don’t listen.

“What, so now you want to stop me?” you glare at him. “You could just kick me out again! You’ve done it before right? So why won’t you let me fucking leave this time on my own!”

“You always feel the need to bring that shit up, get the fuck over it! I’m not letting you leave-”

“WHY NOT?!”

“Because you’re acting fucking crazy and you’re out of control right now! Just fucking relax for once-”

You punch at his chest but his grip is too strong and you let out a frustrated groan. “GET THE FUCK OFF!” you screech at him but he doesn’t relent.

“Y/n, stop-”

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!” you scream. “I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU!”

“YOU CAN HATE ME ALL YOU WANT BUT YOU’RE NOT LEAVING ME!” he screams back at you.

You manage to free your grip from his wrists and you do the one thing you’ve never done before. You slap him.

It shocks the both of you and your mouth fall slightly open in surprise. He doesn’t say anything at first and you can tell he wasn’t expecting it either.

But then his eyes darken and they glare into your wide ones and he pulls on your wrist, teeth clenching. “Don’t ever fucking hit me again.”

You open your mouth to speak but no words come out.

“You’re not going anywhere.” he states. “I’m gonna go into the living room and you’re gonna stay in here and calm the fuck down. Then we’ll talk.” he says. “and if you still want to leave after that, fine. I won’t stop you this time. But you need to fucking relax and clear your fucking head. You’re fucking insane.”

And he leaves you alone once again.

You think about the one time you actually did leave.

But it wasn’t a choice you made on your own.

1 years, 9 months, 23 days ago.

You were used to his possessiveness by now. You knew his love for you was borderline obsessive, and you hated the fact that you still loved him too. You still chose to ignore all the red flags, overlooking every toxic trait he had.

You continued to put up with it and you excused his behaviour because... well it wasn’t like he controlled you completely.

He never forced you to tell him things you didn’t want, never controlled the things you did, never gave you shit for the things you wore, never made you feel like you needed to rely on him for everything.

He still gave you your freedom.

He just didn’t hold himself back from how other people acted around you.

It was at his birthday party, you recall.

And it was the first time you were meeting the majority of Hongjoong’s friends. You wanted to make an effort to mingle with them to show your boyfriend you cared about the people in his life.

Sure you knew of his closest ones, the other seven boys he allowed you to be near. They were the only ones that Hongjoong felt comfortable with you being around.

But this time you were surrounded by new faces, and it wasn’t like Hongjoong warned you of any of them so you took it upon yourself to befriend a few of them. You figured if he let him into the comfort of your own home, they had to have been good people.

You saw no harm in it, and at first he didn’t see the harm either.

Until he noticed the lingering stare in Sehun’s eyes, and the way his fingertips would ghost over the skin of your shoulder, and how his knee would brush against yours every so often.

Anger started to bubble up in his chest at the sight of you laughing at something Sehun said, and the jealousy ran rampant in his veins.

He tried to control his feelings at first, brushing it off as Sehun’s overly flirtatious nature.

But it was when he saw his friend place his hand over your bare thigh that Hongjoong finally lost it.

Before you could even take Sehun’s hand off of you and tell him to back off, Hongjoong’s grabbing onto him in an instant, throwing him away from you.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Hongjoong seethes as Sehun’s eyes widen.

The guests eyes avert to the scene in front of them and you look over at Seonghwa and San pleading for help.

“Woah, calm down, Joong.” Sehun says with a light chuckle. “I was just telling your girlfriend about-”

“Yeah, exactly, MY girlfriend.” Hongjoong interrupted. “So why is that you feel the need to touch her like she’s fucking single? You don’t think I’ve been watching you eye fuck her this whole night? Don’t you know how to back off?” he pushes at his friend’s chest.

“Dude, relax, it’s not that serious.” Sehun rolls his eyes. “You know me man, I would never do anything to disrespect you, or your girl.”

“That’s not what it fucking looked like you prick-”

“Okaaay, Joong, how ‘bout we go somewhere else, hm?” Seonghwa calls, placing his arm around your boyfriend’s shoulder as he and San guide him into one of your guest rooms.

You follow suit with Wooyoung and Yunho behind you as you leave the confused party guests to themselves.

“Are you okay?” Yunho asks and you nod your head.

But inside, you’re heart seizes with fear, because you know exactly where this conversation is gonna go.

When you enter the room, it feels tense right away, and Hongjoong eyes you with a cold stare. “Do you have anything to say for yourself right now?” he calls over San’s shoulder.

You shake your head. “W-what did I do?” you ask genuinely.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Hongjoong scoffs.

“Joong, stop.” Seonghwa sighs, placing a hand on his chest.

“You know what your problem is, you fucking act like such an innocent little bitch when in reality you’re the biggest slut i know.” he spits at you suddenly, and it has everyone’s eyes widening at his bold statement.

“Pipe down, hyung. Don’t call her that.” Yunho shakes his head disapprovingly.

“What was I doing wrong?! Talking to him?!” you scoff.

“For letting him touch you like that! He was fucking flirting with you and you didn’t do shit about it-”

“Oh my god, you didn’t even give me the chance!” you say, throwing your hands in the air. “If you just waited one more fucking second I would’ve told him to take his hands off me and-”

“Bullshit.” he laughs. “You wanna go whore around? Fine. But don’t fucking lie to my face and pretend that you didn’t do shit.” he pushes past Seonghwa to get in your face. “Go back out there with him if that’s what you want.” as he shoves you back.

“Woah hey, Joong, don’t do that.” Seonghwa intervenes when he sees his best friend push you a bit too hard.

“How are you gonna blame me and say it’s my fault? All we were doing was talking!-“ you try to defend, tears threatening to spill.

“Talking my fucking ass,” your boyfriend scoffs at you. “You’re just a fucking attention whore. What, I’m suddenly not enough for you? So you go around prancing like the little slut you are because you need validation from other guys?!”

You feel embarrassed at your current situation, feeling the heavy stares of Hongjoong’s best friends on you. Fighting with him in private was one thing. It was shitty and made you feel terrible, but you could handle it.

But being in the same room, hearing your boyfriend call you names while his friends watch from the side has you recoiling in pure humiliation.

“Hongjoong that’s enough! Fuck, what is wrong with you man?” Seonghwa pushes his friend back.

“Why don’t you ask her? Why are you guys acting like i’m the fucking villain?!” Hongjoong sneers. “You think she’s the fucking victim here? Look at her. Acting all innocent and crying like a fucking bitch. What are you so upset about?” he glares at you and you stand still in your spot, not knowing what to say.

“Joong, I’m sorry but I don’t think what I was doing was wrong!” you say. “You wanted me to get to know your friends and that’s exactly what I was doing! You can’t get mad at me for doing what you wanted!”

“You let him fucking feel you up, you let him touch you when you know I don’t like that shit. You’re making all these excuses to justify the fact that you can’t be satisfied with one man giving you all his attention?! How are you gonna say you didn’t do anything wrong when you let that happen?! When you know it would upset me, on my fucking birthday no less? Fuck you y/n! Your mouth is fucking shit, all you know how to do is lie!”

“You know what, fuck you too Joong. I put up with so much of your shit, I forgive you every time you get pissed over another guy being around me. I clean up your fucking mess time and time again and this is how you treat me?! Are you just going to get mad every time a man does so much as breathe next to me?! You’re going to blame me for shit I didn’t even do-“ he interrupts you, refusing to hear your side.

“Yeah I fucking blame you!”

“God can you fucking relax and think about what you’re saying right now?! You’re literally causing a scene at your own fucking birthday party-”

“Yeah and what?!” he screams at you. “You don’t think everyone at this fucking party should know how much of a fucking slut you are?!”

You gape at him and so does Seonghwa and San whose holding their best friend back.

“Woah, hyung that’s not fucking cool.” San says. “I know you’re pissed off and drunk as fuck right now but do not treat your girlfriend that way.”

Hongjoong chuckles, “Why? She thinks she can do whatever the fuck she wants anyways. Why the fuck can’t I call her out on her shit?”

“Because she didn’t do anything!” Wooyoung shouts, coming next to you protectively. “You need to fucking relax. Yunho, help me get everyone out of their house. They need to deal with this shit with less people here.”

Yunho nods his head, leaving the room with Wooyoung to usher all the party guests out.

“Joong, don’t be unreasonable right now. Be mad at Sehun all you want, but don’t accuse y/n of being at fault when she didn’t do anything. She’s your fucking girlfriend for god sakes, don’t treat her this way-” Seonghwa begins to defend you but Hongjoong stops him.

“You know what, take your fucking shit, get the fuck out of my house, and don’t fucking come back!” he grabs your purse and throws it in your direction and it nearly hits you in the face.

“Hyung!” San shouts as he holds his elder back.

“Are you actually kicking me out right now?” you ask in shock.

“You’re damn right I am.” he states. “Go fucking slut it up on the streets for all I give a shit! Since you want male attention so bad, see how long you last out there!” Hongjoong taunts you.

“D-don’t fucking do this, Joong.” you plead. “I know you’re pissed at me but don’t make me leave, I have nowhere else to go.”

“Ask me if I give a shit.” he rolls his eyes. “You want to act like an ungrateful bitch then get the fuck out of my place. I literally fucking give you everything, I love you like no else fucking will. You don’t fucking appreciate me then Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

You don’t move for a second, but Hongjoong pushes past his friends, gripping onto your arm as he drags you out of the room.

The guests are long gone by now, and you don’t admit that you’re thankful that no one else has to witness this right now.

“Joong, let go of her!” Seonghwa calls after him, as him and San follow you both out the door.

Yunho and Wooyoung are in the kitchen when they see their friend dragging you outside and they’re quick to try and resolve the situation, but there’s nothing they can do at this point that’ll calm Hongjoong down.

“You don’t want to fucking leave? I’ll make you leave! Don’t ever try and come back here, I mean it!” he pushes you forcefully out the door and slams the door in your face and his friends stare with their mouths open in pure horror.

“Are you crazy?! What is wrong with you?!” Yunho gapes.

“She wants to act like a whore then let her. When everything I do is for her, it’s not enough! She wants to find comfort in other men then she can fucking do that.” Hongjoong simply shrugs. “Let her learn her lesson. See how long she can survive without me.”

The four boys don’t say anything, instead choosing to leave and find you to ensure your safety. They don’t recognize this man in front of them, and they never thought they’d witness him act this way.

They hate him right now, and they think you deserve to hate him too.

They find out downstairs in the lobby, crying on the bench hysterically. It’s 2 in the morning and they know how tired you must be, so Seonghwa kindly offers you to stay at their place for the time being.

“Y/n, don’t worry about Hongjoong right now.” Seonghwa sits next to you.

“I have nowhere to go-”

“You’re going to come stay with us.” he states. “We have a spare room, you can stay there for as long as you need. You don’t have to worry about him right now, he’s being a fucking dick. Drunk or not he shouldn’t be treating you this way.”

“He’s gonna get mad if I go with you-”

“Let him get mad then.” San interjects. “It’s better than you sleeping on the streets by yourself. You’re better off with us.”

You don’t hesitate after that and you agree, thanking them profusely for their generosity. They sit with you until the Uber comes, asking you every few minutes if you’re doing okay. You realize that not even your own boyfriend has shown this much compassion towards you in a long time.

“Does he always do this to you?” Wooyoung asks and you shake your head.

“No, no..” you say. “He just, he gets jealous easily. Doesn’t like when other guys are around me. He’s kind of possessive and he just, acts out I guess.”

“I didn’t know he was like that.” Seonghwa sighs. “He doesn’t ... hit you does he?”

“No! Never, no.” you’re quick to say. “He just needs to control his anger better...”

The Uber pulls up in front of your building before any more words can be exchanged, and the boys guide you over to the car.

When you get inside, you rest your head on the window and cry again. Silently this time, but the boys know. They can only imagine how you’re feeling at this very moment, and they feel terrible inside.

You look over to Yunho who’s sitting beside you and he stares back at you.

“Do you think he hates me?” you ask quietly.

“No, y/n. He could never hate you.” he sighs. “He loves you so much.” he tries to reassure.

“So why does he treat me like this?” you return, and Yunho’s heart breaks for you.

He doesn’t know what to say because he doesn’t even know the answer to that himself.

He shakes his head with another heavy sigh, reaching over to comfort you. “I don’t know, y/n.” he admits truthfully. “All I know is that I’m sorry he did this to you.”

Everyone else in the car can hear your conversation, but out of respect for you they pretend to ignore it.

But in their heads, they’re all thinking the same thing as Yunho.

They’re sorry he did this to you too.

4:12 AM

A few hours pass and you’re calmer now.

Your head still hurts and your heart feels heavy but you’re less angry. So you figured that counted for something.

You’ve sat with yourself for the last two hours, weighing your options.

You could still leave.

But just like the first time you left by force, you still have nowhere else to go.

You could go back to Seonghwa’s place, but it took a long time for him and all the other boys to forgive Hongjoong, you didn’t want to burden them and drag them through this mess all over again.

You somehow managed to convince them you and Hongjoong were doing better, and you didn’t want to have to put them in another uncomfortable position where they would have to pick sides.

You figure here is better than nowhere, even with the endless cycle of this torment.

Half of you wants to leave, to forget about this whole nightmare and leave this life behind. To not look back and leave your boyfriend for good. To find someone else who could probably treat you better than this.

But the other half knows you depend on Hongjoong too much for your happiness. It’s the optimistic part in you that keeps reminding you that despite all these reoccurring fights, he still makes you happy, in some ways.

You’re conflicted to say the least, and you don’t know what you truly want to do.

Because if you leave you’ll come back, and if you stay, you’ll just subject yourself to this miserable life over and over again.

You don’t see any winning options.

Hongjoong’s soft knock interrupts your thoughts and he comes in shortly after. “Are you good now?” he asks softly and you nod.

You scoot across the bed to make room for him and he takes it as a sign to lay next to you. You two don’t say anything for a long while. Just staring into the plain white walls of your bedroom. You can hear each other breathing heavily, words lingering on the tips of your tongues, yet, none of you say anything.

The silence lasts for what feels like an eternity before he finally decides to speak first.

“So are you going to leave?” Hongjoong asks, turning to face you.

You shrug. “I want to.”

“So why don’t you?” he asks, but this time, there’s not a hint of malice in his tone. For once, it’s just curiosity.

You finally lock eyes with him and your face softens. “Because I fucking love you.” your eyes water, and Hongjoong pulls you into his arms. “I don’t know why I can’t leave you Joong. I fucking hate you and love you at the same time. You literally make me feel like shit. You do nothing good for me. You ruined my life.” you cry into his chest and he hugs you tighter.

“I know baby.” he murmurs, and it shouldn’t comfort you. But it does.

“I should leave.”

“You should.” he agrees.

“There’s only so much I can handle. I can’t stay with you if you aren’t willing to change, even a little bit. This is getting too much and I keep giving you all these chances when I should’ve walked away a long time ago.” you exclaim.

“I know.” is all he can say.

“I want to leave you, but at the same time I can’t stand the thought of not being with you.” you sigh.

You hate yourself right now because you sound so fucking stupid.

You could never explain why you continue to stay with him, because you don’t even know the answer to that yourself. All you know is that you’re a fucking idiot.

“I know I don’t deserve you, but I need you here with me, y/n.” he sighs. “I don’t ever want to know what it’s like to not have you anymore. I love you, you know I do. That’s why I do this, it’s just because I love you.”

You’ve heard it all before.

You shouldn’t believe him.

You shouldn’t even let him convince you of anything.

He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness for the millionth time.

“If you forgive me this time, it’s the last time I’ll put you through this ever again.”

“Don’t lie to me, Joong.” you shake your head.

“I’m not.”

“I want to believe you so bad.” you sigh.

“So believe me.” he turns to you. “Trust me now like you’ve trusted me all the other times before. I swear to you that I’ll put more of an effort this time.”

You sigh, looking up at the ceiling, refusing to meet his eyes.

You think about the time you forgave him for kicking you out.

1 year, 8 months, 23 days ago.

One month later, Hongjoong’s begging for you back, asking for your forgiveness as you sit at Seonghwa’s dining table, void of any emotion.

You’ve lived 30 days without any communication with Hongjoong, and you hate to say that it was the worst thirty days of your life.

Even after tossing you out like you were nothing, you still missed him beyond belief, and your heart craved him every night he wasn’t right beside you.

You know at this point, you were just as fucked in the head as he was.

For continuing to love a man who proved time and time again that he wasn’t good for you, and he never would be.

“What makes you think you deserve to talk to her after you pulled that shit last month?” Seonghwa raises his eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest as he eyes his best friend.

“I-I was drunk, Hwa.” Hongjoong excuses and his friend scoffs.

“You’re pathetic.” Seonghwa rolls his eyes. “You can’t just come back and expect her to be okay with what you did to her. And why now? You should’ve done it the night after you tossed her out but instead you choose to wait a whole fucking month?”

“I wanted to clear my head. I wanted to think about what I did wrong and make sure I made it up to her the right way.” Hongjoong defends himself. “Can you just let me in so I can see my fucking girlfriend? Since when were you so protective over her?”

“Since you treated her like fucking garbage!” Seonghwa retaliates. “I shouldn’t even let you do this, but you’re my best friend and you need to do what’s right. But if I ever catch you treating y/n that badly again, I will make sure you never see her again.”

Hongjoong nods his head, but inside he’s rolling his eyes at his elder. He hates that Seonghwa cares about you all of a sudden, but he won’t be unreasonable this time. He’ll admit his faults. Right now the only thing he cares about is getting you back.

Seonghwa finally lets him in and he takes you to the dining area where you’re seated reading a book. You don’t notice the presence of the two boys right away until Seonghwa clears his throat and you look up.

“Y/n, Hongjoong wanted to talk to you.” Seonghwa states, leaving the two of you alone.

You just stare at him at first, not knowing exactly what to say or do. You don’t know if he’s going to lash out at you, or forgive you for pissing him off the night of his birthday.

He approaches you gently, leaning down next to you as he places a small bouquet of roses on the table.

“I know this isn’t enough of an apology for what I did, but, I didn’t mean what I said that night.” he says gently.

You look at the roses in front of you and sigh. “You really hurt me you know that?”

“I know.” he bows his head down in shame.

“I get it, Joong. I can deal with your possessiveness, I can deal with your anger problems, but calling me names? Kicking me out? I let so much shit slide but when you go off and blame me for things that I didn’t even do...” you say quietly.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, baby.” Hongjoong sighs. “Everything I said that night was out of anger towards Sehun. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, but it just killed me to see him all over you like that. You know that I love you too much and sometimes that makes me act out.”

“You can’t keep doing this when someone makes you mad.” you say. “You should know by now I’m all yours. I told you that so long ago. You don’t have to worry about me leaving because I won’t. But you can’t do this ever again, Joong. Please.” you plead.

“I won’t. I promise, I won’t do this again. But please forgive me, because I can’t live without you. I miss you so much. And I still love you. No matter what I said, that doesn’t change the fact that I love you and I always will.”

Your heart softens hearing his words and your eyes begin to tear up. Hongjoong looks at you endearingly and you suddenly remember the face of the man you fell in love with so long ago.

You go against your better judgement and forgive him.

Like you always do.

“I love you too.” you say.

“So you forgive me?” he asks, placing his hand on your thigh comfortingly.

You sigh.

You take his bouquet of roses as a silent sign of forgiveness and you scoot over to let him sit next to you.

Hongjoong pulls you into his arms, hating the prideful feeling inside of him, knowing very well things were going exactly how he expected. He knew this was going to happen. He knew you were going to forgive him and take him back.

Because you always take him back.

4:30 AM

“Y/n, I love you, you know that right?” he says.

“I know.” you swallow your tears.

You do know he does.

But it never really feels like it.

“But.. if you claim to love me why can’t you change? Or at least try to? You keep hurting me and then you say it’s because you love me but, you don’t exactly show me that. I don’t understand how you can keep putting me in this position and say you do out of love.” you ask.

“I can’t explain what makes me act this way. But I go crazy when it comes to you, and it’s because of how strongly I feel for you. I don’t know why I treat you like shit. I don’t know why I do the things I do.” he admits.

“Sometimes I feel like you don’t love me at all. You just look at me as something that belongs to you.” you say.

He hates that you’re partially right.

“That’s not true.” he lies.

He does love you. He loves you more than anything else in this world, that much is clear.

But you’re right about you belonging to him.

Deep down he thinks you’re stupid for thinking you don’t belong to him.

You are is his. You always will be his.

But he doesn’t try to prove you wrong. He keeps his mouth shut.

It’s silent again, and your heads are both swirling with a million different thoughts, and you want to say a million different things to each other.

But you feel like there’s nothing left to say.

Because everything that could be said, already has been.

The cycle will just continue. It’s never going to stop.

And there’s no one else to blame except for the poor decisions you both make.

You let yourselves get to this point.

“You need to let me leave, Joong. I can’t keep doing this.” your lips quiver and your voice breaks.

“No y/n-”

You stop him. “No, listen to me first.” you say.

“I told you. I’m tired of doing this again and again. You need to promise me right now you’re going to do something to change yourself because I meant it when I said I will leave if you keep driving me away. Because if you can’t promise me this one thing, and actually mean it, you have to let me walk away. If you claim to care about me, and if you really do love me, you’ll either do this for me or you’re going to let me be happy without you. So please, Joong. I’m begging you. Please. Please just do this for me or just let me fucking go.” you cry, and he pulls you into his chest as you sob.

He doesn’t know what to tell you.

Because if he promises he’ll change, he’d only be lying.

But if he doesn’t, he has to force himself to let you go.

And he could never do that.

“I’m not letting you go.” he states, and you know that’s his way of avoiding your promise.

“We aren’t good for each other. We shouldn’t be together.” you bury your face in his chest, and his hold on you tightens again.

Hongjoong’s throat starts to burn. “I know.” he whispers. “But we also can’t be without each other.”

He feels your tears soak through his shirt.

“You’ll change this time, won’t you?” you look at him with pleading eyes.

He doesn’t want to, but he nods anyways.

He just doesn’t offer any sort of reassurance.

You want him to say sorry, Hongjoong can feel it. He knows all you’ve ever wanted was to hear him apologize and mean it.

But he never does. Because he isn’t sorry.

He isn’t sorry for scaring away those guys who threatened to take him away from you. He isn’t sorry for calling you those names. He isn’t sorry for making you feel like you can’t get anyone better than him. He isn’t sorry for knowing how much you truly depend on him and need him.

He’s not sorry, and he never will be.

So instead he chooses to say ‘i promise.’ like he’s done again and again. He repeats those same words to you and he feels you relax in his arms.

He knows you’re not stupid enough to believe him, but you’re too optimistic for your own good. Always choosing to believe he can change. Always seeing the good that’s left in him and your broken relationship. And for the record, he does try, but his love for you is just so obsessive and consuming it drives him mad. He just can’t bear the thought of someone else taking you away from him. He can’t control the way he acts and he knows its unhealthy.

But he lies to you because he knows it’ll keep you with him.

“I promise I’ll change.” he whispers in your ear.

And you want to believe him so badly. But you know it’s just an empty promise. Because you know the next chance he gets, he will put you through all this again. And Hongjoong won’t admit it but he knows you’re always going to forgive him. No matter how many times you threaten to leave and actually try to, you’re going to end up back in his arms every night, loving him like you’ve never loved anyone else before.

So for right now, you just pretend. You pretend he means what he says and you pretend that things are going to get better.

You want to believe that he’ll change.

But deep down inside, you know he never will.

LA FIN.

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everlastingdreams · 4 years ago

Text

Weeping Monk x Reader : Playing With Fire chapter 24

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Story Summary: The Huntsman, that is what they called your brother. A name he had earned by hunting down the fey for coin. Coin that is given by Father Carden for his services. You refuse to stand aside and watch how your brother hunts down those who are fey. When you start to warn the fey camps your brother wishes to attack, you find yourself behind enemy lines. But when the Weeping Monk becomes suspicious of you, you realise you are playing with fire.

Chapter Summary: You finally arrive at the safe place but when you step out out of the tunnels it appears it isn’t exactly safe for Lancelot to do so as well.

Notes: A little late, sorry. Reusing my gifs because I am truly to tired to make another tbh. Let me know what you think, please.

Warnings: None in this one.

Word count: 2274 words in this chapter.

Chapter: 24/ 33+ something

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The boy was adamant not to let you out of his sight as you travelled through the tunnels. Lancelot followed close behind the two of you, his hand resting on his sword constantly. Then the scent reached his nostrils and with each step the scent grew stronger.

You were nearing the exit of the tunnels, you could see the sun illuminating the last bit ahead.

“Y/n.” Lancelot called out to you and you turned around to look at him.

“There are people up ahead. Fey kind.” He sounded nervous.

You knew he expected there to be trouble, the fey would not be happy to see him in their sanctuary.

“I'll go first !” The boy stated.

“I'll go with you.” You quickly said, before the boy would run off on his own. Then you turned to Lancelot “Stay behind me. Some people there will recognise me from when I... warned them. Let me talk to them first.”

He balanced his weight on his other leg, clearly not at ease with the situation now. He gave an affirmative nod.

You took a deep breath, placing a hand on Percival's shoulder as you walked forward out of the tunnels and into the sunlight.

Luckily you had told Lancelot to stay behind you because the second you stepped out of those tunnels, archers jumped to their feet and took aim. They were clearly not expecting to see someone there that moment. But they had been on the lookout. You were suprised to see that you were once again standing in a forest, the large rock formations that reached the sky succesfully embraced this place. Hiding it from the world outside from which you came. A world hidden from the other. Other people were approaching now as well until there was a small crowd.

Lancelot set one step outside as well but you quickly stepped in front of him when you saw the archers react to the sight of him.

You could hear them whisper his previous title to one another. They had recognised him instantly. The boy was a few steps ahead of you and stopped when he saw the archers and the others who drew their weapons. You suddenly felt Lancelot trying to move you but you refused to move.

“Y/n, get behind me before one of those arrows hits you!” He hissed at your defiance.

You spoke lowly so only he would hear “Not happening! If I move they will kill you.”

Then you felt him grab hold of the back of your jacket but you quickly slapped his hand away and glared at him “Don't even try to pull me away.”

He really disliked you doing that, his jaw was tense, his eyes focused on the people ahead. Then a familiar face came forward past the others and you smiled widely when you saw who it was. You had not seen her in months, but she did not look happy with the reunion when her eyes went to Lancelot.

"Nyra..." You greeted her nervously. She was one of those people who looked intimidating but under her hard exterior she had a good heart. You had met her before, she had been leading one of the fey camps you had first helped. It appeared she was leading this place as well as the other people looked at her for instructions. Her eyes fell on the boy who looked at her with wide eyes, her armor and her markings on her body must have caused that reaction. She had once told you that each marking stood for a paladin she had killed and you did not doubt her explanation. She turned her attention to you "Y/n.. it is good to see you." she tilted her head, a polite greeting and then turned her attention on Lancelot "I cannot say the same for him. Why have you brought the Weeping Monk here, y/n ?" You saw how Lancelot cast his eyes to the ground at the mention of his previous title before focusing on the archers again. It wasn't easy shielding him from the arrows aimed at him but you still tried your best "I know that what I am about to ask of you is a big favor." Her eyes narrowed, silently guessing what you were about to ask of her. You took a deep breath, readying yourself "Back when I helped your camp escape my brother, you told me that if I ever needed help, you would help me. I never wanted to take you up on that offer but I fear I have no other choice. The three of us are seeking refugee." "I said I would help you, y/n. Not the Weeping Monk." She reminded you, looking at Lancelot with great suspicion and a hint of fear. "If you send him away, I will not stay here either. This man..." You looked at him over your shoulder before turning back to Nyra "...Lancelot saved my life. He saved Percival's life."

You put a hand on the boy's back "The Huntsman is dead. And if Lancelot had not helped me, my brother would have killed me. And he would have sold the boy to the Red Paladins." Nyra raised a brow and her eyes widened in suprise "The Huntsman is dead ? He killed the Huntsman ?" You swallowed thickly, thinking back to what you had faced in the tunnels "My brother found out that I was helping the fey and that Lancelot had helped us escape the paladin camp. He... threatened my life. Lancelot fought him... but I killed him.." Nyra was thinking about your words. You could see her deciding about his fate, about your fate. "Did he suffer ?" She asked you expectantly. You furrowed your brow but understood why she had asked, your brother had done terrible things to the fey. "For a couple of minutes, before y/n..." Lancelot answered the question for you. And it was audible that he sounded pleased with that fact.

She had noticed how pleased he sounded that the Huntsman had at least suffered at his hands. "And now you've come here to seek sanctuary among us, the three of you ?" She asked for clarification. Lancelot could see Nyra's hesitation and knew it was because you insisted that he would be allowed to stay as well. This would be the perfect place for you and the boy to stay, man-blood would never be able to pass through the tunnels safely. No paladin would set foot here, no one of the church would. He couldn't let you give up your place here only because they wouldn't welcome him here. And as much as he hated to do this, he had to let you go. You felt Lancelot touch your arm and turn you just a little, he leaned towards you to talk to you "Do not refuse their offer if they offer only you and the boy sanctuary here." You scoffed and spoke just loud enough for him to hear "Oh, so now you would leave me alone ? Really ?" He was ready to protest until he picked up on the sad tone in your voice that you had tried to hide under the sarcasm. "Y/n, you and the boy will be safe here." He felt as if he was trying to convince himself along with you. "Is that really what you want ?" The sarcasm was gone, and the sad undertone that you had tried to hide was clearly audible now. He fell silent and swallowed. Weeks ago you had made it very clear that you wanted him to leave you alone, and now you sounded upset at the idea of him leaving. "If you're not staying, I'm not staying either." Percival suddenly said with a look of determination in his eyes. His eyes snapped to the boy "Percival-" The boy got visibly upset "What ? What are they going to do, keep me locked up ? I'll go back through those tunnels, you're not going to get rid of me just like that ! The Green Knight believed in you, he wouldn't want you to go. You're one of us !" Nyra quickly spoke, shocked at the news "The Green Knight ? YOU are fey ?" She sounded like she did not believe it so you reacted by picking a leaf up from the ground and taking Lancelot's hand before he realised what you were doing. You held the leaf against his skin and the pattern of leaves started to cover his whole hand. Those close enough to see, gasped at the sight. Nyra's eyes went to you now "How ?" "It's a long story, Nyra. The Green Knight told him that all fey are brothers, even the lost ones. He is not lost, Nyra. He is here now, with his people. Not with those who raised him to believe he is a manifestation of evil." You saw her falter as she thought about your words "Please, Nyra. Gawain had faith in him. I have faith in him. Your people need him. The fey need everyone they can get." Finally Nyra gave a quick nod "I will allow it. See this as my way of repaying you for saving our people." You breathed in relief at her answer, forgetting that you were still holding Lancelot's hand with yours.

“But if I believe him to be a threat, I will not show mercy.” Nyra warned, looking you in the eyes. She was serious.

“I mean you no harm, nor anyone else here.” Lancelot replied truthfully to her warning.

You looked at him for a second and only then you let go off his hand when you realised you were still holding it with yours.

She looked him up and down with doubt before she beckoned for the three of you to follow her, the people stepped aside as you walked past them.

You followed her through the forest “Where are we going ?”

Nyra actually smiled at that question “I am showing you the way to your new home. It is not far.”

“How do you two know each other ?” Lancelot kept his distance from Nyra, not wanting her to feel threatened any more then she perhaps already was.

She didn't look at him as she answered his question “We met one night when y/n came to warn my camp. The rain was ruthless that night, she was soaked to the bone when she arrived. I told her about this place while some of her clothes dried by the fire.”

Lancelot looked at you and you nodded, confirming that the story was true.

“Your camp ?” He was interested in that, especially after how you had always stubbornly refused to give any information about that.

“We had a camp in the South, the people from the camp in the North are here too.” Nyra explained.

He had found the camp in the South abandoned months ago, and now he knew why. Lancelot looked at you and went to walk closer beside you, he took hold of your arm, slowing you down a little to talk quietly so Nyra would not hear “The camp in the North ? The one I asked you about weeks ago, and you pretended you did not know what I was talking about ?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” You wanted to sound casual but failed when you saw his expression, you knew he didn't believe you.

He knew you were lying then and you were still trying to deny it. Lancelot wasn't angry about it, not at all. But he wanted you to admit that you had helped the fey in the North as well. He was curious just how many lives you had saved like this. He gently pulled your arm, making you walk closer to him.

You rolled your eyes, you knew he wasn't going to let this topic go just yet “What ?”

Then he leaned in close to your ear so Nyra would not hear “Did you warn the camp in the North, y/n ?”

You had felt his breath brush past your ear and for a moment you forgot how to form words.

He was waiting for your answer unaware of how flustered you felt now. He leaned in to whisper again but you quickly responded.

“Yes. Alright, I warned the camp in the North. What did you expect ?” You tripped over your words as you spoke hastily.

“That was what I expected all along.” He deadpanned.

You glared at him “Then why keep asking me ?”

Lancelot let out a chuckle, smirking at you “I wanted you to admit it.”

You groaned, hating how pleased he looked now. Like he had won a game.

“How are you feeling ? If you are in pain I can-” He send you a look of concern

“You're not putting me on the horse again, Lancelot.” You would rather walk then end up in another awkward situation.

He let out an audible breath, sounding defeated.

Nyra was looking at the two of you curiously before turning to the boy and discreetly asking him “Do they always act like this around each other ?”

Percival first looked in your direction before looking up at Nyra confused “Like what ?”

Nyra's curiousity grew the longer she watched you and Lancelot interact, she looked down to answer the boy “Like they are in-”

“Is that where we will live now ?” The boy interrupted her as he pointed to the houses up ahead.

She was not given another chance to finish her sentence “Yes.”

Taglist:

@itsjustjenna @ourlazydetectivekitten @the-great-adventures-of-me @linkpk88 @mixedchicaq @boredoomfm @fxrchxldws @elenaoftheturks @slytherlight @beananacake @lancelotapricot @captainbucky-yt @crystallizedtime @thesneakylittleminx @moonlightaura03 @oh--its-just-me

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

#weeping monk x reader #weeping monk x you #lancelot x reader #lancelot x you #the weeping monk #weeping monk #cursed weeping monk #cursed #cursed netflix #cursed lancelot #cursed percival

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callboxkat · 4 years ago

Text

The Worse Place

Author’s note: You have @bilgisticallykosher to blame for this. It’s more of a crack fic than anything else.

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Prompt: Chained to a Bed

Summary: In a case of mistaken identity, Janus is whisked off to The Good Place when he dies.Things do not go as Good as the name would suggest, especially since "Patton" has been paired with Remus as his soulmate. Apparently, there’s The Good Place, The Bad Place, and The Worse Place.

Warnings: death mentions, demon mention, food mention, and a, uh. very Remus-y attempt at seduction. Nothing explicit though.

Word count: 1068

Writing Masterpost!

@badthingshappenbingo

...

Janus had never thought much about death. He supposed he had expected everything to simply end. No heaven or hell, no eternal darkness, simply an end of all awareness, even the awareness that things had ended.

What he had not expected was to suddenly wake up in what appeared to be an average waiting room, with a large white sign reading, Welcome! Everything is fine.

Nor, for a man to come in and announce that not only was he dead, but that due to living a virtuous life—not something Janus heard often—he had been accepted into what was apparently simply termed The Good Place.

Then the man, Michael, began calling him Patton, not Janus, and things got… complicated.

Apparently, there had been a mistake, and Janus wasn’t actually supposed to be here at all. Some guy named Patton was. Janus wasn’t sure what exactly had happened—was the real Patton actually still alive? Had they died at the same instant, and been somehow swapped by mistake? If so, that would mean Patton had ended up in The Bad Place.

Janus hoped not. Patton didn’t deserve that. But while Janus felt for the guy, he wasn’t exactly about to expose himself and get sent to eternal torment just so that some guy he’d never met and most likely never would meet could come here and eat frozen yogurt for eternity while Janus went to what sounded like Hell in all but name.

Of course, the prospect of pretending to be someone he wasn’t for all eternity was a difficult one. Patton was apparently some soft little puffball, always smiling and putting others before himself in literally everything he did—the guy was a volunteer fireman, apparently, and had been involved with too many charities for Janus to even bother to try to keep track of. And he hated snakes with a passion, which meant that Janus, who had owned several snakes when he was alive and loved the creatures, had been placed in a neighborhood that he was repeatedly assured would have Absolutely No Snakes.

Plus, soulmates appeared to be real, except Patton’s soulmate was far from a good match for Janus. The guy was disgusting. He never threw away his garbage, literally ate deodorant rather than putting it on his body, never showered or groomed himself, and was constantly making innuendos that made Janus want to gag. How he could possibly have gotten into The Good Place, or have been Patton’s soulmate, Janus couldn’t imagine. Remus hadn’t shared how he’d gotten there, too busy telling his crude jokes and imaginatively gruesome horror stories.

The icing on the cake for Janus was that Patton had also been a staunch environmentalist, which meant that even in the afterlife, Janus got to grow all of his own food, compost, reuse as much water as he could (Michael had suggested going as far as to boil his own shower water for tea, but Janus had to draw the line somewhere), and just generally make himself miserable in the name of an environment that wasn’t even a part of his current plane of existence. It wasn’t that Janus hated the environment: he’d recycled. Usually. If he didn’t have to go too far out of his way. And he’d had a reusable water bottle. But all of this? Just going through the motions as if protecting the environment, when he literally was not even on Earth anymore? It was ridiculous. Maybe that was how Remus had ended up as Patton’s soulmate—if you never showered, you saved a lot of water.

One thing that raising all of Janus’s food included was that he had his very own cows. And If Janus wanted milk, or to keep up the appearance that he really was Patton, he had to take care of the cows.

The cows, which didn’t seem to like Janus all that much, probably because he wasn’t actually the wonderful Patton who’d been meant to be their owner.

One day, after breaking his back all day pulling weeds in the rain while his neighbors ate frozen yogurt and went for walks under cutesy umbrellas and talked about how forking great their days had been, Janus went to check on the forking cows, and they had shoved him right into the forking mud. And he’d gotten stuck.

A couple of his neighbors, who he had bonded with over the fact that they seemed to be having just as difficult a time with things as he was, had come to help, and had ended up just as filthy as he was.

Janus knew cows couldn’t laugh, but he could have sworn these ones did. He’d definitely heard some poorly stifled cackling from the neighbors.

That night, still dripping with mud, Janus went home. He glanced at the pastel puppy-and-kitten-themed décor as he walked in, shook his head, and made his way to the bedroom, hoping to strip these clothes off and at least try to salvage the day with a long, long soak in the tub. After a shower: he wasn’t taking a mud bath.

Janus pushed open the door and stopped dead in his tracks.

His “soulmate”—or at least, Patton’s supposed soulmate (he did find that hard to believe)—lay in the bed, surrounded by white candles dripping red wax, his wrists chained to the bedposts, wearing a disturbingly small amount of clothing and a few other things that one might find at a certain type of store geared exclusively towards adults. The lights were off, but the many candles threw into harsh relief far more than Janus wanted to see.

Janus stared, slowly dripping mud on the carpet, feeling like he had just witnessed a horrific car wreck and couldn’t look away.

Remus just smiled, apparently perturbed by neither Janus’s reaction nor the mud coating his body, and batted his eyelashes.

“I’m seducing you,” he claimed.

Janus’s jaw hung open. This had to be the worst thing he’d ever seen. Nothing on Earth had ever been so horrifying, surely.

And suddenly, a lot of things made sense. Why he’d been struggling since the moment he arrived here, the case of mistaken identity aside. The cows and the mud, the complete lack of snakes, the censored swearing that made him feel like he was a character in a foolish children’s book.

“This is the Bad Place!” Janus announced.

There was a collective groan from the demons outside.

#bad things happen bingo #bthb #sanders sides #janus sanders #remus sanders #thomas sanders #ts sides #ts janus #ts remus #the good place au #tss #ts #sanders sides fan fiction #ts fanfic #ts fic #fanfiction #prompt: chained to a bed #ts crack #the worse place fic

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ohpretty-baby · 5 years ago

Text

secure

✰ paring: namjoon x reader ; established relationship

✰ genre: fluff

✰ synopsis: “why do you love me?” ; basically namjoon is a big softie for reader

✰ warnings: cursing like once lmao

✰ word count: 3.5k

today i spent my time thinking about the concept of love and how people love differently. this is the product of that. also yes i was thinking about this bc i was listening to 5sos’ new album, calm.

It was 1 AM. The two of you were sprawled lazily on the new couch you got. Legs and arms were intertwined as you let the hours slip by, your eyes glued to the television screen and your bodies glued onto the soft couch.

Ever since you and your boyfriend of 10 months, Kim Namjoon, had become official, things had just gotten better and better. Wherever he went, success and happiness prospered. Now, you weren’t one to believe in superstitions, but Namjoon was like a good luck charm to you. Whenever he was around you, you were always happy and good things came to you. Namjoon was just good in general, always taking care of you and always showering you with gifts.

In fact, just last night, Namjoon got you that new couch that the two of you were laying down on. Even though he told you he was coming over that night, it was taking him a long time to get to your house. You figured that he was working extra hard at the studio, which also explained why he wasn’t responding to any of your texts.

Unbeknownst to you, however, he actually decided that he wanted to replace that tattered down brown couch you had in your house. He always felt uncomfortable on it. It was too scratchy. You’d always just roll your eyes at his antics, explaining that you couldn’t afford another big purchase like that right now. So he took it upon himself to replace it for you. He had actually left work early in order to find the perfect couch for you. When he reached the furniture store, he ended up getting a white sofa, not really knowing what the difference was, but he was sure that you wouldn’t care since it was so comfy. It was one of those sofas that you could just sink in and lay down in all day.

He still wasn’t responding to any of your texts, so you figured that maybe he wasn’t coming over anymore. And that was okay. You knew that sometimes work demanded a lot out of him and you didn’t want to bother him. To your surprise though, you heard a doorbell ring. You couldn’t really believe the sight before you. Namjoon was standing at the door, with a slick sheen of sweat glossing his skin. A huge box accompanied him, and he greeted you with a grin.

You smiled at the memory, also realizing that Namjoon was in your arms right now. The boy snuggled into your chest, and you unconsciously put a hand up to his brown hair, combing the strands calmly through your fingers. He hummed in delight, tightening his grip on your waist.

Even though you were half his size, Namjoon was always insistent on resting his head on your chest. It made holding your waist easier for him, which also meant he could hold you closer to him. You, of course, found this endearing, and also a good excuse to constantly play with his hair. It was a win-win.

You loved nights like this. Nothing else in the world mattered other than Namjoon and you being together. It was serene and you felt all your anxieties go away. He always felt like he was at home in your arms. Soon enough, both of you would fall asleep on the couch, still snuggled deeply in each other’s embrace. You could tell that Namjoon was getting groggy as his body seemed to reach a standstill and his eyelids drooped down. Before you slept, though, you wanted to see what would happen at the end of the chick flick you two were watching, even though you knew what would happen in the end.

It was just your typical cheesy movie. A selfless, kind girl moves to the city for her new job only to get coffee spilled on her by a playboy. She’s pissed off. He’s selfish. He gets to know her. They fall in love. She learns to love herself and he learns to love other people. No matter how many times this same plot was reused and recycled in countless of movies, you still felt your heart flutter when the boy would profess his feelings for the girl.

That scene was playing. The girl was moving back home due to heartbreak, which was slightly illogical since she had such a good job. You decided to ignore that fact, but chuckled softly at yourself. If Namjoon was awake and watching with you, he would say that and point out how dumb it was. He always wanted to watch action movies when you two were together, but once he saw how cute your face was when you blushed at a romance movie, he never mentioned any movie other than chick-flicks. Eventually, he started liking them too, but he’d never openly admit that to you. You could only tell because he’d start paying attention to the movie more than you at certain points.

It was raining in the movie and the girl had to get gas before her long drive home. You felt your heart race in anticipation for what would happen next. The boy came running to her in the rain, and he shouted for her. She wiped a few tears, trying to keep up her cold front. He then confessed to her, telling her that he never felt the way he did ever before. He told her that she changed him and he couldn’t bear to live without her. The girl then ran into his arms and they kissed in the rain, saying “I love you” over and over again. The background music got louder, letting the audience just experience the two characters’ love for each other.

I love you. You always thought it was such a strange phrase. Not that it was bad, since you were obviously so in love with the boy lying on top of you, but you always thought it was fascinating how heavy those words were. You were constantly cautious about that phrase, only saving it for the person who really mattered.

Namjoon, however, never really put any weight on that phrase. In fact, he may not even remember, due to the countless of times you two have said it to each other, but you can vividly recount the first time he told you that he loved you.

It was a Friday morning in August, and you were on your way to a job interview for an office job at a big tech company you’ve been wanting to work at since forever. You and Namjoon had been dating for one month at that time, and it all felt like a dream.

But right now, everything was a nightmare. You just barely heard your alarm, almost oversleeping. Your hair was extremely messy and even though you tried to keep it in tact by putting it in a nice bun, a bunch of loose strands still appeared. On your way to Namjoon’s car, you accidentally spilled coffee on your skirt. Namjoon reassured you that it wasn’t that noticeable since you were wearing a black skirt and you hoped that he was telling the truth. He also reminded you that you’d be sitting down the whole time, so it shouldn’t be that big of an issue.

While in the car, your hands got even clammier than they were before. You used your phone camera as a mirror in an attempt to try to tame your unkempt hair, but it wasn’t working. You felt your chest go tight, anxiety increasing. Your head went dizzy and you tried your best to breathe as you fixed your appearance. Namjoon picked up on this right away, and he placed a hand on your thigh to draw you out of your panic. You took a deep breath and put your phone away, realizing that you were getting way into your head. He gave you a soft smile and you grabbed his hand and placed it in your own, letting Namjoon’s touch bring you back to earth.

Namjoon squeezed your hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. He stayed quiet, knowing that you just needed things to be quiet when you were freaked out. Any noise would just set you off, so the car ride was silent, save for the soft R&B music playing on the radio.

Soon, your ragged breathing returned to a normal pace, and the knots in your chest went away. You were still a little dizzy, but you could pull yourself together. Then, you had reached the building.

You gave Namjoon a peck on the cheek and unbuckled your seat belt. You stood up from the car, straightening your skirt. Before you could close the car door, however, Namjoon said your name, grabbing your attention.

“I believe in you, Y/N,” He saluted you, showing off that goofy grin you adored so much.

“Thanks, Joon,” You saluted him back, giggling. You were about to close the door but then he called your name again.

“Also, Y/N,” His gaze met yours, and he stared at you lovingly, “You look beautiful today.”

“Oh, um, thank you,” You blushed, fidgeting with a fold in your skirt that was semi dry from the coffee spill.

“I love you,” He flashed you a soft smile, dimples appearing once again. You felt your heart stop and a soft ringing played in your ears.

“I love you too,” You said without even thinking.

And with that, Namjoon drove away to find a parking spot. You stood in front of the building, dumbfounded. Namjoon had just haphazardly threw that phrase at you. And you had just responded with the same recklessness! Your ears went hot at the thought of what just happened. You tried to reason with yourself. Namjoon was a very loving person, so maybe he’s just used to using that phrase right away, and you did love him a lot, so you weren’t lying either. It couldn’t be that bad.

You found out that it really wasn’t that bad. Later on, you’d get your job, and after the interview, you could tell that Namjoon did really love you. Once you got out of the building, you saw him waiting outside of his car, with a bouquet in his hands. You didn’t even know that he had left to buy them for you! Even though you didn’t know the results of your interview at the time, Namjoon was extremely proud of you. You ran up to him and he pulled you into his arms, spinning you in the air and making you both laugh. And from then on, countless “I love you”s were said between the two of you.

“Y/N, baby?” Namjoon croaked out, voice gravelly and scratchy because he had fallen asleep.

“Yeah?” You mumbled in response, finally out of your trance.

“Ah, there she is,” He grinned snuggling his face in the crook of your neck, “You weren’t responding for, like, 5 minutes and you were just staring at the ceiling! I thought I lost you or something.”

“Never,” You giggled, his breath tickling your skin, “I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Why do you love me, Joonie?” You asked rather abruptly. The question surfaced on its own, and you didn’t even realize that you had asked that until an uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you. You felt your heart race uncomfortably and dread fill your stomach. Was this it? Maybe Namjoon didn’t really love you, and he was just bored of being alone.

Your thoughts started racing around you uncontrollably until Namjoon pulled himself out of where he was snuggled, hovering over you. He placed a soft kiss on your lips before smiling at you, resting his forehead on yours. You felt at peace, and you let go of the breath you hadn’t noticed you were holding.

“What kinda question is that, dear?” He questioned, chuckling, “I love you because you’re you.”

“I mean, like, don’t you think you said ‘I love you’ way too fast?” You pouted, jutting your bottom lip out, “We were only together for a month when you told me that you loved me.”

“Well, sweetie, if I know I love you, I’m gonna say it right away, so you know,” He answered calmly, and repositioned the two of you so that could now rest your head on his chest and he could play with your hair. You smiled, happy at the warmth emitting from him. The movie had ended a long time ago, and it was you and Namjoon talking in the safe silence of your home. It was most likely 3 AM, and you felt your eyelids droop down slowly. Namjoon held you closer to him, placing a soft kiss on your forehead as you slowly fell asleep.

Namjoon was no longer sleepy since he had already fallen asleep for a little bit. He looked at you endearingly, loving how peaceful you always looked when you slept. He hoped you were having a good dream and he continued to stare at you, thinking about the conversation you two had. What did he love about you?

Well, what didn’t he love about you?

In fact, he was surprised that you thought he said that he loved you so early. Even though you two were together for only a month then, Namjoon felt like he was waiting for forever just to say that to you. He knew that he loved you right when he met you, and he was desperate to get the chance to say it to you.

He knew he loved you when you introduced yourself to him at a café, because he noticed how you’d always fidget with whatever you could get your hands on, whether it be the sleeve of your sweater or the ripped hole in your jeans. He noticed how nervous you were to talk to him, your soft voice trembling as it tried it’s best to carry every word you wanted to say. You didn’t even know why you wanted to talk to him, you just felt drawn in by his stare and you needed to know him. He vividly remembers the first words you said to him.

“Is this, uh, is this seat open?” You said sheepishly, trying your best not to slur the words together, “There’s no more seats open.”

Namjoon, in fact, knew that that was a blatant lie, since there was actually another table open that you could sit at. He found it cute, how you tried your best to find an excuse to talk to him. He nodded to your question, setting his book down as he introduced himself.

“I’m Y/N,” You smiled, and he felt his heart grow in size, “I wanted to talk to you about that book you’re reading, actually.”

Your smile widened once you grabbed your bag and pulled out your own copy of the book he was reading. Before he could even say that this book was one of his favorites, you immediately started rambling about how much you loved the book, a bright twinkle in your eyes.

 Right at that moment, Namjoon knew that he loved you.

After that, the two of you hit it off right away, constantly texting each other and meeting up the café or the library in your free time. One time he mentioned to you that his favorite color was purple, he noticed that whenever you were with him, you always had a purple accessory. Whether it be a purple headband, hair clip, earring, or just a purple plush keychain that was attached to your bag, he never knew. It was always a nice surprise when he saw you. He thought it was so cute.

Namjoon felt his love for you grow even deeper once you met his friends. They were a rowdy group of 7, including Namjoon, who were always goofing off when they were together. They had already known a lot about you, and they were practically dying to meet you. Jeon Jungkook was especially excited. Namjoon constantly talked to Jungkook about you, because everyone else was sick of hearing you. Min Yoongi would always flick Namjoon’s forehead, teasing him for fawning over someone he wasn’t even dating. Kim Seokjin would join in on the fun, and then everyone would slowly join in the teasing fest. They even said snarky comments about you, saying that you were a weirdo for always texting Namjoon whenever you read a new book or if you saw a cute frog on your walk to your house.

But once they met you, everyone immediately retracted their teasing statements about you. When you arrived at Namjoon’s house, you had a surprise for everyone. Namjoon told you quite a lot about his friends on your late night walks through the city. He’d tell you about all the weird things they did and how he thought you’d get along well with them. Well, you really didn’t want to disappoint.

When Namjoon opened the door, he was surprised to see you carrying 7 bags with names written on them.

“I brought everyone gifts,” You giggled, struggling to carry all the bags in your arms, “If that’s okay.”

Before Namjoon could say anything, the 7 boys were already running up to the door, intrigued to see what you looked at. You felt your cheeks turn hot as they took in your appearance and they all greeted you with a smile.

“These are my friends, if you couldn’t tell already,” Namjoon said rather awkwardly, and you could tell that they were all trying so hard not to laugh at him. You smiled, saying hi and introducing yourself to everyone as Namjoon carried your gifts so you could take your coat off and relax.

You passed around the gift bags, which all had a sugar cookie in them and a small trinket of what each boy liked.

“Whoa, Namjoon!” Jungkook was the first to open his gift, and he was extremely excited, “She got me an Iron Man keychain! Look at it! His arms and legs move!”

“Kumamon?” Yoongi brought out the plushie and examined it, a smile appearing on his face, “I don’t have this one yet. Thank you, Y/N.”

“KAWS! A keychain!” Hoseok grinned, showing his gift off to the other members, “Wow, Y/N, I don’t know you and I already like you!”

“Ooh, a new Mario shirt!” Seokjin ran off to the bathroom to change into it right away, “I look good in this. Good job, Y/N.”

Taehyung and Jimin both squealed in delight as they opened their gifts, seeing new copies of the manga that they liked. Everyone found their reaction humorous, laughter filling the whole house.

Even though you were happy and satisfied with everyone else’s reactions, you were dying to see Namjoon’s reaction to his own gift. You nudged at Namjoon, who was sitting next to you, and excitedly bounced your leg up and down in anticipation.

“You should open your gift, Joon,” You pointed to the bag in his lap, and he nodded. Everyone else watched, surprised by the nickname you had given him.

It was a blue pajama set that had his favorite character, Ryan, printed all over it. He flashed a grin at you, remembering that he only mentioned that he liked Ryan maybe once or twice to you. He pulled you into a hug, feeling a warm a feeling in his chest. Everyone grinned at the two of you before teasing Namjoon.

“Oi, Namjoon,” Seokjin snickered, “Are you crying?”

“Shut up!”

Namjoon laughed softly at the memory of that day. He loved how you were always so attentive to the things he said, bringing things up about him that he himself even forgot. He knew that he loved you right from the get-go. Not just because you were pretty, because Namjoon was never nervous around you. His feelings for you weren’t fleeting, like puppy love in high school. He knew that he would love you forever, because he felt secure with you. You tried your best to impress not only, but his friends, who were basically his family. And don’t even get him started on when you met his family. They, like Namjoon, loved you right away and knew that you were a keeper.

His mom even scolded him the next day, telling him that if he lost you she’d never forgive him.

You stirred in your sleep and all of Namjoon’s attention was back on you. You must’ve had a bad dream. He hushed you, cradling you in his arms until you were calm again. It was probably 4 AM. Namjoon took a deep breath of the cold air, admiring your features once again.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you,” Namjoon sighed, heart breaking at the thought. But he knew that he loved you and you loved him, so he wasn’t worried. You were his home, and he was yours. He didn’t know what he did to deserve you, but he knew damn well that he’ll do anything to make sure that you’re still his.

He placed another soft kiss on your head before falling asleep too in the quiet, calm house, where you could only hear Namjoon’s soft breathing with yours.

this made me soft and i would do anything for kim namjoon k bye :,)

#bts namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon fic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #kim namjoon fluff #bangtan #kim namjoon ff #im so soft #crying #kim namjoon oneshot #namjoon fluff #kim namjoon fic #namjoon oneshot

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