#the mental image of him saying goodbye to the only good thing in his life

[phatcatphergus]

The image of tubbo hunched over his desk, a tape recorder in hand, not knowing what to say but knowing he has to say somthing. Tubbo sending a message to his daughter, grappling with the realization that he’s only 20. He’s only 20 and he inlkt just got to the best part. The part with his Sunny, the part that he wishes would last forever. Tubbo hunched over his desk with red eyes from crying, forcing an optimistic tone as he tells his daughter how much he wishes she never has to hear his message. How life isn’t fair. It’s not fair because if it was they wild be together. He would see her grow up and see a smile grace her face again. If life was fair he would take her in his arms and know that he wouldn’t have to say goodbye, he would know that she’s safe and won’t be alone.

Tubbo hunched over his desk as he tells Sunny goodbye. He tells his daughter how much he loves her. He tells her he’s sorry.

[ryuichirou]

TWST hcs: addiction, dark thoughts, sh

Hcs that I didn’t have time to finish yesterday, another long overdue batch. Thank you for your ask and for being patient with me!

Last hc post was kinda cute, so today we’re balancing it out by talking about twst boys being addicts, having suicidal tendencies and practicing self-harm. Please don’t read this post if these themes upset you, but you know, it goes for all of our posts…

I hope it’s okay that I grouped those asks in one posts, but I figured they are somewhat thematically similar, or at least similar in a way that I can’t say a lot about them.

thestarlightfae asked:

Wait! One more! I personally headcanon Leona to have some sort of Alcohol (that word is way to hard to spell) dependancy! What do you think? Do you think any of the twst characters use drugs/ or drink excessively? Do you think any of them are addicted? Alright! Goodbye for real this time!

Alright, let’s start with this one!

I’ll go through the list of characters, but only mention those who I can say anything about. When I write hc, there is always urge to talk about every single one, but actually, I don’t think a lot of the boys would have those particular issues, at least at this point in the story. I mentioned some of the boys with “they aren’t but they could be” context though, plus mentioned those who feel strongly about it in general.

I’ll talk about Leona in a minute! >:)

(Also, on a lighter note, we do have a hc post about twst boys’ relationship with alcohol + what kind of drunks they are!)

Riddle isn’t an addict obviously, but I still wanted to mention him because we need to protect this boy. Because of his extremely strict upbringing, he gives me major vibes of someone who would become addicted to anything that he used to be strongly against the moment he tries it. He has zero tolerance, both physical and mental, and all of his discipline would crumble the moment he gets over that first “I can’t”…

Deuce also isn’t really an addict but he used to smoke and drink beer with his delinquent pals, so I can see him wanting to do either of these things when he gets very frustrated and overwhelmed. But he never does it! He is a good boy now <3 He either does his “screaming on the beach” thing or just runs until he isn’t frustrated anymore. Yes, I wrote about him just to call him a good boy lol

Cater is more of a (secret) smoker than a drinker, and whenever he gets opportunity to drink, he goes for something lighter BUT he did have a couple of moments when he got drunk all alone and just kept drinking until he passed out. He would probably do it more often if there weren’t so many people around him at all times because he becomes a miserable and irritable wreck when he is this drunk, and that absolutely would ruin his image.

Leona strikes me as someone who also likes to drink alone, and as you said, he could have a dependency, but then again, he is also someone who would say stuff like “I can stop whenever I want, I am not that weak”. I guess that means he just doesn’t want to stop, shrug.

I want to mention Ruggie and Vil because these two are very aware about how much alcohol and drugs could ruin someone else’s life, and both of them feel very strongly about it. Ruggie swore to never get fool around with highly addictive stuff (some booze here and there or weed is okay); but he doesn’t care if people around him do (as long as they aren’t his close ones). He is also aware that this thing could be extremely profitable for someone who “distributes the goods”, but he also knows how dangerous of a job it is, so he would prefer to avoid it.

And Vil just witnessed a lot of people in showbiz, including very young actors, become entirely different people due to addiction, so his rule is to never touch and even go near any kind of drug and only drink moderately and on very rare occasions. And unlike Ruggie, he is someone who nags others about it.

Epel isn’t an addict right now, but he is also one of the dangerous ones! If he isn’t careful, he could become an alcoholic at some point in the future lol The boy needs to be busy doing something and have things in his troubled head sorted out; for some reason, I can imagine him being a moonshine boy. But this is like the worst case scenario for Epel…

I don’t know if Che’nya could be called an addict, but he is constantly high. Is it weed? Is it catnip? Is it something else? Can he even function without it? It’s difficult to tell, but it’s just as difficult to catch him being completely sober. And unlike all those boys, he isn’t troubled or miserable or anything, he is just one extremely relaxed funny-smelling guy. He visits Trey whenever he gets the munchies. One time he made Trey bake him special cupcakes.

Crewel used to be wilder when he was in his early 20s, and his body endured a cocktail of alcoholism and a whole bouquet of drugs. He was never addicted to the latter ones, but he probably tried a lot of different things, but mostly smoking and sniffing type, nothing that goes directly to your bloodstream. Those were his restless years, it’s like he was looking for something and had no idea what it was, which resulted in him getting angry and drinking a lot. But these days he doesn’t do drugs; still drinks though, but not as much as he used to. A normal person would still consider it a problem though….

Fellow’s money problem keeps him from becoming an alcoholic and a heavy smoker, but when he gets a chance to get drunk for free, he does. He loves the taste of alcohol, especially when it’s good alcohol, but he drank all kind of nasty shit. Same thing with drugs – he isn’t an addict, and he would never waste money on it, but he tried a bunch of stuff, especially before he met Gidel. Actually, he became an addict very briefly at some point in his late teens because one guy paid him to experiment with stuff, and then suddenly disappeared, leaving Fellow with the worst withdrawal pains in his life.

Anonymous asked:

TW: Self Harm & Suicide

How fucked up mentally do you think the twst boys r? Who self-harms? Who has attempted before? How much do those around them know?

Good question, Anon, but also a very difficult one to think about. I think this is one of those darker topics that I don’t usually explore or just don’t imagine characters going through this kind of stuff, so similarly to the previous list in this post, I won’t have a lot to say, but it was still interesting going through the list of the characters mentally and trying to look inside their heads like that…

Riddle could have a bad habit he developed during his childhood; maybe when his mother got especially mad, she used to pinch him, smack his hand with a ruler or an elastic band. Something isn’t super major, something that wouldn’t be considered physical abuse by his parents, but still painful enough for Riddle to get traumatised to the point that he does it to himself. It could be intentional, i.e. “I did bad, I need to focus/to discipline myself”, or even unconsciously, i.e. pinching his arm very painfully without realising. Trey absolutely knows about it and hates it, Cater is aware as well because Trey has told him; but also Ace and Deuce definitely saw Riddle do it once and kind of got freaked out. Ace almost confronted him about it, but couldn’t say anything for some reason.

When it comes to Cater, I always remember that one mandrake vignette and everything gets depressing instantly orz The guy clearly isn’t in a good place, and I think he feels pretty much trapped and alone. So he absolutely would have pretty dark thoughts, and I think he thought about ending it all at least once before. His mental state gets better the further he is from his family though, and since he has been able to hang out at NRC for more than two years already, it’s been a good change of pace for him. But that doesn’t mean that he is happy, I think he is still pretty depressed. Although I don’t think he self-harms; definitely thought about it before, maybe even tried burning himself with a cigarette, but he really doesn’t like the pain + is too anxious that others would find out about it. A bunch of people know that Cater is hiding his state (mostly Trey), but no one knows how bad it is.

Leona – honestly who knows, but ironically with everything that’s going on in his life and with how much he laments about it, somehow I don’t think he is suicidal. He could have certain feelings and thoughts about not being suicidal, i.e. “wouldn’t it please you if I was?” type of thing. For some reason, I think Leona is too mentally strong to self-harm as well…

Jamil isn’t suicidal and doesn’t self-harm in a traditional way, but I still feel like Jamil is someone who is prone to making things worse for himself when he is already feeling very shitty. This is a very roundabout way to say “I am still thinking that Jamil could have sex with Azul just to make himself feel even worse mentally” lol But now that I think about it, it’s probably just a mix of masochism and “things are already pretty bad, I don’t care anymore” that always ends up with him regretting this horrible, horrible mistake. I can’t believe I’ve just said that sex with Azul is a form of self-harm…

I actually talked about Idia and self-harm before in this post, it’s the last reply on this one. But to reiterate: I think Idia punishes himself constantly, but not through the means of self-harm; I kind of see him as someone who is both scared of physical pain and detached from anything physical. Mentally though, he tortures himself all the time… And of course, another reason why he doesn’t self-harm is Ortho because there is no way he would be able to hide it from him, and Ortho is very aware that he has to protect Idia from himself sometimes. In terms of Idia being suicidal though, I think he goes back-and-forth. I’d say that this is his default deep state, but he copes quite well, both with AI!Ortho being around and all of his favourite manga and shows. In the Ghost Marriage event he expresses that he doesn’t want to die yet, but in ch6 he was ready to join Ortho without any hesitation, in fact, he was eager to do it. One thing that I can say for certain is that Ortho being around helps him A LOT, both with his presence in general and with how well he knows exactly what to say to Idia to save him. His hero <3

Rollo is the only character I am 100% certain about in terms of self-harm; both because of how nicely he fits the trope of a pious person punishing himself for his own sins, and because of how deeply the theme of guilt and deep sorrow is tied to his character. Rollo wants to punish the entire world and he blames the magic users for the tragedy that deeply traumatised him, but he clearly blames himself the most. I think Rollo could have quite nasty self-flagellation scars. And of course no one but Rollo knows about this, but maybe… maybe Rollo only thinks that no one but him knows about this… a certain school council vice-president snoops around too much…

I can also picture Fellow being pretty much suicidal before he met Gidel. I think Gidel’s existence motivates Fellow a lot to keep pushing, keep working hard and keep living; not only because he eagerly wants to protect Gidel from this cruel world, but also because he genuinely feels happy when they are together. Fellow is in a much better space now that he has Gidel to cheer him up. Gidel absolutely knows about this, but Fellow believes that he doesn’t.

[sshbpodcast]

Character Spotlight: Kes

By Ames

Star Trek: Voyager may have only had Kes on the show for three seasons, but that’s actually a pretty large percentage of her Ocampan life! And in that time, she definitely made her mark. It was just a mark that struggled to hold a candle against the character who swoops in and takes her place (more on that next week!). But we here at A Star to Steer Her By came to really appreciate the short show life of the short-lived character, even if the show rarely gave her much to do.

Kes is one of those nuanced characters (boy, Voyager sure is full of those), who you may not notice unless you’re looking for her. She’s compassionate, curious, and clever, and her eidetic memory really makes sense for someone who needs to grow up licketty split. Was the quick lifespan a good idea or a terrible one? You decide as we compile our Best and Worst Moments for Kes below and listen to our chatter on this week’s podcast episode (jump to timestamp 1:32:15). YOLO!

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

Best moments

I’ve learned very well. I saw the sunlight. The very first thing we learn about Kes (other than the fact that she’s dating Neelix) is that she’s left the safety of the Ocampan homeworld, a stagnant culture subsisting almost entirely under the eye of the titular “Caretaker.” This young prodigy has greater ambitions though, and she seeks to encounter more of the universe while she’s got the chance, and we give her credit for it!

What crop has sprung from the seed you planted today Immediately after joining the Voyager crew, Kes shows some initiative and starts up an airponic garden to supplement the ship’s rations. It’s only her second episode in “Parallax” and already we start to see her not only as a nurturer and someone who shows compassion to her fellow shipmates, but as someone who can take charge of a task and handle herself.

One lung to give While overall our opinion on the Kes-Neelix relationship is that it’s cringey, the two of them clearly care for each other. So Kes’s offer to donate her lung to Neelix in “Phage” is quite touching. She doesn’t even hesitate in the moment of crisis when the EMH is floundering, and then gets to carry it through when the Vidiians are able to perform the procedure.

He’s your Medical Officer. He’s alive. The EMH may complain and complain that no one gives him the credit he deserves, but Kes has always had his holographic back. We get to benefit from her outside perspective in “Eye of the Needle” when she requests that the crew treat him more nicely. And she also advocates for his existence in “The Swarm” before they risk losing him by restarting his program.

Someone was walking your grave When the show remembers that Kes has telepathic powers, she is frequently at her best. The way she learns whatever the hell was going on in “Persistence of Vision” depicts how she’s learning to master her mental capabilities while also keeping firmly in reality. Everyone else has succumbed to their delusions, and Kes is able to save the day by keeping a cool head.

Get down with the sickness Like how Torres insists the Doctor not take shortcuts in creating his holo-family in “Real Life,” Kes makes sure his Levodian flu is just as unpredictable as normal illnesses in “Tattoo.” How is the Doctor supposed to feel vulnerable if he always has control over his virus? Kes sneakily adds two hours to the ailment to show him how uncomfortable and stressful working while ill can be.

Use the Force, Kes! It was obviously too good to be true when Kes met a batch of hyper-powered, slightly longer-lived Ocampans like Tanis in “Cold Fire” offering to teach her their ways. When their caretaker, Suspiria, is trying to destroy the ship, Kes uses her new abilities back against Tanis in a display of defiance against their corrupted ways because she’d never hurt others willingly.

I don’t know how to say goodbye to Neelix and Tuvok No matter which side of the “Tuvix” debate you fall on, you’ve got to admit Jennifer Lien nails the scene with Janeway in which she breaks down over being caught in the middle of things. Even if you’re pulling for Tuvix to keep existing, you feel for Kes. She’s put into such a devastating position, admitting that while she doesn't want Tuvix to die, she wants Neelix back.

I can’t wait to see if Blaine’s twin brother is the father of Jessica’s baby She may barely be in any of the two-parter “Future’s End,” but Kes might be in the funniest moment. She and Neelix are scrutinizing the televised feeds from Earth in the past, and they immediately get addicted to soap operas. It’s quite a cute little moment. As Kes says, “There's something to be said for non-interactive stories like this, being swept away in the narrative.”

I walk through mindfields Jennifer Lien doesn’t get a ton of episodes to stretch her legs and show her range, especially since Kes herself is typically such a reserved character. So it is a delightful surprise to see what she can do when Kes is possessed by Tieran in “Warlord.” And it’s an even better surprise to see Kes fighting back in her own mind with a ferocity we’ve never seen from her before.

Kes has become unstuck in time Every so often, you get glimpses of just how intelligent Kes is, as Ocampans need to have eidetic memories and amazing deductive reasoning to develop mentally as quickly as they develop physically. So when she’s traveling backwards in time in “Before and After,” Kes is able to put together the out-of-order puzzle and keep from getting winked out of existence.

Something to remember me by Kes’s final episode with us (or really, what should have been her final episode with us, as you’ll see in our next section) sends her character off in a very satisfying way. “The Gift” does a great job completing her arc, as Kes’s mental powers improve off the scales until she uses them to send the ship ten years closer to home. It’s yet another selfless act from the ship’s sweeting.

—

Worst moments

Chekov is finally redeemed Firstly, is the wig we see Kes in for early episodes like “Parallax” worse than the one they put on Walter Koenig when he first joined TOS? We’re willing to give Walter the benefit of the doubt since it was the 60s and wig technology wasn’t where it was in the 90s. So what’s Voyager’s excuse then? Why does Kes look like she’s wearing a lhasa apso on her head?

I saw them burn. Their bodies ashes where they stood. The main complaint I can muster against the Kes character is how criminally underused she is throughout Voyager. The couple of times we lauded her mental powers above are just that: a couple of times. Most of the time, like in “Time and Again” when she senses Janeway’s presence in the other timeline, exactly nothing comes of it and it’s a huge wasted opportunity!

I felt like there was someone in the room with me Another episode where Kes’s telepathic powers could have benefited the story is in “Cathexis” when Tuvok is being possessed by the Komar. The entity sees that she could pose a threat and knocks her unconscious for the whole episode. It feels like such a tease! Remember how Kes has superpowers? Well, we’re not going to actually use them for literally the whole first season.

Then I guess our marriage is over Look, I’m grasping at straws because Kes doesn’t get to do much, let alone bad stuff. So it’s not technically Kes as the Doc’s wife in that weird fakeout scene toward the end of “Projections” – it’s another layer of holodeck malfunction. But I still don’t like it because it’s an unnecessary twist. And when the EMH is back to reality, it’s just as weird that Kes acts like maybe he’s not?

Kes, you’re baby crazy Can we just say all of “Elogium” here and be done with it? No? Ugh. While we can’t blame Kes for experiencing Ocampan heat, we sure can blame her for how she acts during it, hormones or no. And we also can blame the writers for making this forced pregnancy plot a thing in the first place because it turns a huge personal decision into a cringey couple’s squabble.

That green-eyed pus hog called jealousy It’s been said on the podcast so frequently that you’re probably over it that Kes and Neelix would have made better friends than romantic partners. But you love who you love, so who are we to judge? What we can judge is how Kes stayed with Neelix during his jealous, clingy phase, and barely even spoke up in “Twisted” when he basically accused her of being the town pump.

A watched Tuvok never boils As one of a couple episodes that remembers Ocampans have mental powers, “Cold Fire” really gives Kes a lot to do when Tanis and the other space-venturing Ocampans try to teach her their ways. And in the typical Kes fashion of someone who barely has any experience in the world, our girl immediately goes and boils Tuvok’s blood. Slow down, girl!

Help people, hurt them, give life, kill, it’s all the same Even when she’s gotten a [slightly] better handle on her powers later in “Cold Fire,” Kes still plays the innocent as she trusts these rogue Ocampans. Anyone watching the show could tell you right away they are trouble. But this young emancipated woman becomes so obsessed with her newfound powers that she nearly leaves with Tanis and crew, whom she’s only just met!

Caution: No Kes Allowed What on earth, or whatever stupid planet this is, makes Kes think she can wander off from her tour group and go trespass in these people’s sacred temple in “Sacred Ground”? Even though she didn’t know it would knock her into a coma, you’ve got to think someone as respectful as Kes usually is of other people wouldn’t think to go anywhere without asking permission first.

I think we should be possessed by other people Like last week when I included the omission of a scene that we desperately needed for Neelix to not seem like an asshole, we’ve got another scene that never happened for Kes. Kes never actually breaks up with Neelix! Tieran does it while possessing her in “Warlord,” and that guy’s an asshole! So why do we never actually get acknowledgment from the real Kes of what their status is?

Suffering from severe FOMO Kes is indeed back on the market after that nebulous breakup, and she’s already found herself a new boy in “Darkling.” Zahir seems perfectly nice as far as Mikhal Travelers go, but Kes is ready to pack her bags and get whisked away right after meeting this guy! I guess when you live as short as she does, you’ve got to follow your heart. But Kes is too quick to trust cute strangers.

You blame Captain Janeway, but the choice was yours But possibly the worst moment for Kes is whatever the hell happened in “Fury.” The episode feels like a “fuck you” to Jennifer Lien for leaving the show. Instead of the character we loved, the Kes who returns has been rewritten as a bitter, jaded, apathetic husk. And worse, there’s no good reason for it except that she forgot how good she had it on the show- I mean the ship.

—

And we’ve reached the end of our very short Ocampan life, so let’s hope we transcend into energy beings or whatever. Next week, we’re replacing our Ocampan sweeting with the show’s sex symbol, and I don’t mean Sandrine! So keep tuned here for more character spotlights, finish off our watchthrough of Enterprise with us over on SoundCloud or your favorite podcast app, reach out to us with your minds over on Facebook and Twitter, and thank you for changing out that wig!

[blackjackkent]

(Jarringly, if you go straight to a long rest from Gortash, the game forgets about all the Karlach drama and she's all like "HEY! ^_^" when you go to chat with her, but then the next morning she has an exclamation mark over her head and is plot-appropriately sad again. As I mentioned in that drabble earlier, I'm just leaning into this and deciding that Karlach basically didn't come back to camp all night, wandering around the city and finding someone private to cry/process/scream at the sky. Hector, meanwhile, lies alone in their tent and has an incredibly unsettling interaction with the Emperor and his own meltdown.

So we will say this is the next morning, with a slight tweak to Karlach's opening line to reflect this.)

"Hey, Soldier. I'm back..."

The sun has barely crested the horizon when Karlach comes wandering back into camp. Hector is the only one awake, having given up on trying to get any rest an hour or so earlier; he's sitting next to the campfire with a mug of tea and staring into the flames; the raw emotion of the night before has faded and he's conscious only of a sort of empty hollow feeling in his chest.

But empty as he feels, the warmth that floods him at hearing her voice is unchanged. He looks up with an involuntary slight smile, meeting her gaze in the morning half-light, though his eyes still hold something of the haunted look that he's had for the last two days.

"I've been worried about you," he says, and his voice is ragged but steady. "Are you all right?"

She smiles slightly and walks over to sit down next to him, putting a hand gently on his knee. "Yeah," she answers. "Despite my best efforts." She manages a soft laugh; it's shaky but sends light through him anyway. "I kept trying to flop over and give up, but Karlach just wouldn't let me."

He feels a little tug of a smile at his lips in response. She really is the strongest person he's ever known by far - even when everything feels so terribly dark, even when she is so beaten down that it seems impossible to rise, she is still always looking for something to smile about, something to hope for. Even when the world hasn't deserved her good opinion of it.

He puts his hand over hers, and she shifts to interlace their fingers together; he feels the familiar steady pulse of heat through her palm and it soothes him a little in spite of all the things it implies. "Did I miss anything important?" she asks softly.

He shrugs. He wants to tell her about the Absolute's scream in his brain, about the Emperor's taunting in the Astral Plane... but what good would it do? It changes nothing and would just make her feel worse. "Not really..." he says quietly. "But I missed you." He lifts her hand and presses his lips against her knuckles.

"I missed you too." A long pause. She looks at their interlaced hands against his mouth, and her throat convulses around a sharp swallow. "You know, I wouldn't have bothered falling in love with you... if I'd known saying goodbye would be so hard." She tries to laugh but it doesn't quite come out.

He looks back into the fire, lets out a heavy breath. He knows the right thing to do would be to joke back, to show her that he is being strong, that he is ready to play this the way she wants to, no matter the cost. But he doesn't quite have the strength in him just now. "I know what you mean," he says softly. The tears are gone; he won't break, he won't cry. But the words are as empty as he feels. "I'm scared of you leaving me behind..."

She gives a sharp shake of her head, and her grip on his hand tightens abruptly. "I don't want to leave you behind," she whispers. "Not ever." A long pause. Her eyes close, squeezing out reality for a moment. "If I had my choice, we'd do it all together. Life - a long life. And then we'd slip away one night... side by side... wrinkled and grey, warm in our bed..."

The ache that rises in his chest at this mental image is almost more than he can take. He tries to take a deep breath and feels it catch in his throat. Gods... I would do anything... anything to wake up next to you for the rest of my life...

"But that's not in the stars for us, my love..." She leans sideways against him, rolls her head so her face is pressed into his neck. "Ours is a short story with a few good twists... and a banger of an ending..."

He wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulls her fiercely against his side. "Karlach..." He hesitates. He knows the answer already, before he even asks it... but he can't help himself, one last try... "Would you ever consider going back to Avernus? Just for a while, just to buy yourself more time?"

He knows why she won't say yes. He knows, even, why it's right that she not say yes. But he has to ask... just one more time...

"No," she says at once, muffled into his neck. "I can't. I'd rather die here in Faerun -- my home -- than live in service to a devil."

He nods slowly, his cheek rubbing against the top of her head. "I understand," he mutters. And he does. He wishes he didn't; he wishes he were a more selfish man, who could demand she think about him and not herself. "I just... wish there was another way..."

"So do I," she mutters. "I've done the calculus a hundred times. There's no permutation I can find that doesn't end in me dead, or wishing for death..." Her arm slips around his waist, her fingertips dusting over his hip, his arm, his upper thigh. "This is it. This is all we have. Each other, and all the moments we have left..."

He says nothing, but turns his head to press a gentle kiss into her hair. For a long few moments they sit in silence, while the sun slowly rises over the camp.

After a while, Karlach stirs and speaks again. "Speaking of which... there's something I wanted to ask you..."

He grunts softly, questioningly.

"Will you stay with me? When it's time. For me to go..." Her voice is suddenly thick, hoarse with emotion. "I think I can do anything if you're there. Even die..."

His heart twists in his chest with the stab of grief that goes through him, somehow fresher than it has ever been. He squeezes his eyes shut and his arm tightens around her, crushing her into his side.

He wants to run, to run far away from all of this, from everything she is making him feel. It's not admirable, it's in fact horribly unfair. But nothing in his life has ever prepared him for what she is asking him for now...

Gods, what if I am not strong enough?

But what can he say, other than yes? How can he be anywhere but at her side, right to the very end?

"Of course, my love..." he whispers. "Of course..."

She draws an unsteady breath, lets it out heavily. He can feel some of the tension go out of her as she sags into his side. "Thank you..." she says softly.

A long pause that seems to hang heavy with all the feelings they have no words for.

When she finally speaks again, her tone is lighter, though he can hear the effort behind it. "Now. Enough tragedy. I'm not gone yet. And our schedule is packed with important heroics, isn't it?" She laughs shakily. "Plus, if I cry any more, I'm going to run out of tears and start leaking motor oil."

She sits up, not pulling from his embrace but turning in it a little so that she can cup her palm against his cheek and kiss him-- soft, slow, lingering. "Thanks for everything, darling," she mumurs, and rests her forehead against his. "I love you. A lot."

[im-poe-dameron]

CELESTIAL SERENITIES

➔CLONE WARS ARC #02: DUTY AND DAMNATION

a/n: we're back with chapter two! how is everyone feeling about the kenobi series? cause i am being torn to pieces. so i had a good chunk of this written and then went through the stage of re-reading it...only to go "damn this is good op should finish it" so here i am finishing it. i hope you enjoy the ongoing journey of these two! this takes place during the attack of the clones arc as does the next chapter.

summary: you left intending on staying away from him, but new information surfaces dragging you two back together in the most brutal of ways.

word count: 8.8k+

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x fem!reader (name astra is used but it's still a reader insert)

warnings: not explicit, angst, cussing, horrible explanations of star wars politics, violence, near death experience, more angst.

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

He knew you were gone before he even opened his eyes. The steady thrum of your energy in the room had vanished long ago—leaving a cold emptiness behind he’d only felt once before. At first he didn’t want to wake up, because he knew once he did…you wouldn’t be there. Except then he felt the warmth of the sun streaming through the window, turning the blankets into a cocoon of heat that felt too uncomfortable to remain under any longer.

With a sigh, he shifted until he was sitting up in the bed—an ache forming in his body. Only to be faced with an empty room. You left. Taking along everything you brought with you. That all too familiar feeling of the knife you wielded in the past, sliced through his heart again—twisting his insides and reminding him of the pain strewn throughout his past. Last night shouldn’t have happened…he knew this. Yet he didn’t regret it; not even for a moment.

He found himself sitting naked, on the edge of the bed—his fingers digging into the sheets as memories from only a few hours ago replayed in his mind. It didn’t feel real, to have so many moments play out like a holofilm only to be met with no true image of you in the flesh. No matter how much he tried to force the mental blocks in his brain to shut out the images, he couldn’t forget what happened. How you sounded, felt, looked underneath him.

Sighing again, he ran a hand down his face—the sting of tears pricking his eyes. What had he done to drive you away? To make you want to turn tail and run from what you two shared.

Except he knew what did it. The very same thing that made you flee before and while he felt like you’d taken a piece of him with you, he understood why you did it. Why you felt you couldn’t truly be with him. After all, the Jedi Code was to be followed and it was up to him to make the choice of keeping with it…or keeping you. A decision this drastic shouldn’t be made while he was still in the midst of waking up.

So, with a groan, he stood on unsteady legs and reached for his clothes. The sooner he was out of here and on his way back to the Temple, the better it would be for the both of you. He just wished he had the chance to say goodbye—one more time. He never got that before; the small opportunity to wish you luck in your life and hope that wherever you went…you were thinking of him. It wouldn’t have healed the already open wound, but it would put his mind at ease to know you were safe.

The beep from his comlink drew him out of his weary mind; the reminder of what he was returning to now taking precedence.

“This is Obi-Wan,” he said, reaching for his robe that was tucked underneath you in the night. A stab went through his heart at the realization that it still smelled like you.

“Master, are you there?” Anakin’s voice came through, the urgency in his tone shifted Obi-Wan into the demeanor he was known for.

Serious once more.

“What did you do?”

A disgruntled sigh crackled through the small speaker. “Why do you assume I have done something?”

“You wouldn’t be contacting me otherwise.”

“Master Yoda said he needs to speak with you,” Anakin said. Something echoed in the background, the shouting of a man’s voice calling to younglings.

He figured Anakin was back at the temple, although he could say with certainty he wasn’t participating in any training that was occurring. “Did he say what about?”

Latching his lightsaber by his side, he glanced at the room, noticing small things that weren’t there last night. Cracks went along the same wall he had pressed you up against, each one formed when his control had slipped. Heat spread through his face, skin tinging red, as memories of what happened replayed in his mind. The both of you had lost all sense of your wits, the drug taking control for the remainder of the night. Whoever had slipped it into your drinks would need to be questioned, but he had half a mind to assume the Separatists were behind it.

However the sound of Anakin’s voice coming through the comlink again gave him something else to worry about.

“He said it had to do with Senator Amidala, nothing more than that. I tried asking him to clarify.”

“I will be there shortly,” he replied, heading towards the door.

He didn’t wish to leave so soon—the urge to stay and wait for you to eventually return nearly overtook his need to get back. Yet something told him you wouldn’t be returning to this room for that very reason. You knew the lengths of his stubbornness; knew he was determined when it came down to things and so with a resigned last look, he left. Shutting the door behind him. The echo of the lock clicking felt like a stab wound to his heart.

If he had the time, he’d spend the day searching for you. Ask more about the years you spent away from him. Only things would be better if he allowed you to disappear altogether like you wished.

Heading down the empty hallway, he once again shut out the memories that seemed to be branded in his mind. The walls within were forcefully put up as he did his best to stop grappling with the array of emotions that attempted to break through. There’s a reason Jedi never fall in love. A reason he tried not to fall in love, but like the inevitability of his determination—you had split his resolve in two.

Obi-Wan only hoped that it wouldn’t happen again.

The echoes of people in the Jedi Temple sounded like home to him. Familiar and soothing in a way that he could never quite describe. His arms hung at his side, the swish of his robes brushing against the floor as he walked towards where Master Yoda would most likely be. All the while he attempted to wrangle the ongoing confusion that stuck to him, into a box. Effectively shutting it out in case Master Yoda decided to see into his mind as they spoke.

It wouldn’t cease the emotions altogether, but it would put his mind at ease for the moment.

“Good afternoon Master Obi-Wan.” He was startled by someone walking beside him. Shifting slightly, he was greeted by Shaak Ti leading a small group of younglings down the corridor alongside him.

“Hello,” he said, forcing a friendly enough smile on his face.

“Is everything alright?”

Holding back the slight flinch of his body, he simply nodded. A small gesture to hopefully ease her worries long enough. At least until she left him to be alone in his thoughts again. His worry of Master Yoda finding the small sliver of pain in his mind increased with every step—the knowledge that he did not look well now shoving its way to the forefront. He felt weary. As if he was walking on a path with no end in sight and no map to guide him.

“Yes, everything is fine. Why do you ask?”

“You seem lost,” she replied.

Before he could convince her she was in fact wrong, a youngling tugged on her sleeve—diverting her attention elsewhere. However that didn’t stop him from nearly pausing where he stood and turning back towards the entrance. He looked lost. Probably because…he was lost. Last night reminded him of a time when he had his doubts about what becoming a Jedi meant. The only time he allowed himself to imagine a life walking a different path altogether—one with you beside him.

Somehow in one night he’d gone from being a fearless Jedi with a purpose, to the young boy on Corellia who barely knew enough to survive.

“It seems they are in a rush to get to training,” she said with a smile—watching the younglings walk on ahead of her.

“Good luck.” That time he did wince. The words sounded like a dull echo of sentiment. One that she gratefully ignored; merely responding with a smile and a wave as she was tugged ahead.

Rather than dwell on the feelings he couldn’t change, he  continued on towards where the younglings' education was taught. Master Yoda would no doubt be there, the familiar tinge of his Force energy coming through the quicker Obi-Wan walked. The quicker he managed to find out what was required of him, the quicker he could find a place to clear his mind. A long meditation session would help. Only the second he stepped into the room, the sight of younglings with their lightsabers drawn and helmets on, he knew the matter would take more than a few minutes.

Mentally he closed off his mind, shutting out any prying eyes from seeing the muddled mess that were his thoughts.

“You asked to see me Master Yoda?” He spoke, drawing the attention away from the younglings.

Turning slowly and leaning on his cane, he nodded—holding his hand up for the younglings to pause. “Focusing on balance next we will be,” he said, allowing them a chance to rest for a moment.

“Anakin informed me you were concerned about Senator Amidala?”

He nodded. “To Naboo she must go. Keep her safe, your padawan must.”

“Anakin is trying to get her to agree, but she is quite stubborn.” He figured this is what he would be called to talk about. The part of him that continued to think about you was relieved. At least now he wouldn’t have to reveal his thoughts; ones that would certainly have him be questioned as a Master and a Jedi.

“Not another way there is in protecting her. Agree she will have to, but this is not why I asked for you.”

“Is there another matter you need me to oversee?” he asked, hoping that something would help him take his mind off of you.

Yoda nodded, his cane tapping as the younglings began their new exercise for the day. “To the archives you must go in search of a file. Important it is. A plan that now must be altered there is, and you will oversee it.”

“What sort of plan?”

“There is an agent of the Republic that needs to be notified.” The voice of Mace Windu coming from behind him only furthered Obi-Wan’s need to fortify his mind. He could protect himself against Master Yoda, but Master Windu was a different story altogether.

“If you don’t mind me asking…what exactly is an agent of the Republic needed for?”

Mace motioned for him to follow. ��We weren’t given the specifics, but this goes beyond even Chancellor Palpatine. They were given the mission orders by Bail Organa, but we’ve just heard word of a shift in the vote. This could prove to be dangerous ground.”

“What will I have to do?”

“Their record is in the archives. Tell them I have sent you and they’ll give you the documents you need. We need you to find them and inform them they must return to the Republic at once before they are found out.”

He was right about one thing. This job would keep him busy for the remainder of you being on Coruscant. In a way, he was thankful. The incessant thoughts of what occurred last night would surely drive him insane if all he had to do was continue to be a bodyguard for Padme. Anakin could handle that job. It would give him an opportunity to finally feel like a Jedi again—perhaps find a way to no longer feel lost.

“Can I trust you to handle it with the utmost discrepancy Obi-Wan?”

“Yes,” he replied.

Bidding his goodbyes, he headed towards the stairs, the archives down below where he was standing. Finally, he had something to keep him within the walls of the Jedi Temple. Anakin was off attempting to convince Padme of how important protecting her was; thus allowing him a moment of not having to worry about him. Of course, he always worried. His padawan had gotten into more trouble than he did as a child—that he was almost positive about.

“Don’t be too hard on him. From what I can remember you were quite a bit of trouble yourself.”

He nearly stumbled—grasping onto the railing to right himself as your words flooded his mind. It shattered his resolve, tore down the walls he spent so long building, because in the end he could never shut out the memory of you. He could try just as he’d done before, and yet nothing worked. You were like a siren calling out to him in the night—begging him to join you in the dark waters of his mind. Only this time he wanted to give in. Relinquish himself to the sea and swim after you.

“Stars,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut to alleviate some of the dizziness that swept over his body. Something in him resented the fact that he continued to shove down his emotions—ignoring their existence to hopefully feel better.

Taking a deep breath, he managed to swiftly walk the rest of the way towards the desk where Jocasta Nu sat. She smiled as he approached, setting down the holopad she was reading from.

“Master Kenobi, is there anything I can help you with?”

Once again he slammed down the small inkling of fear that rose up in his mind. A reminder of what even the memory of you did to him.

“Yes hello, I’m here on orders from Master Windu regarding an agent of the Republic.”

She nodded, picking up the holopad and sifting through the data that showed itself. “I do remember what you’re talking about. It wasn’t too long ago that the case was reopened. The vote must be the cause of that.”

“Reopened?” he inquired, following her down the pathway to a small table.

“Yes. This agent is not the first to work for the Republic and certainly not the first to be sent into dangerous situations such as the one they’re currently in.”

She moved away from him, gathering a different holopad before transmitting the information she needed. He only caught a few words here and there as it flashed on the screen, but one in particular caught his eye. Their home world. Obi-Wan figured it was his eyes playing tricks on them; just the thought of you coming through one more time. Yet a sharp tug in his gut told him…he might not be wrong.

“Do you know if this is the same agent as before?”

“I do and no. But I do believe they come from the same planet as the one before them.”

He sat on the chair, leaning forward as he scrolled through the information page by page. “What was the last agent's name?”

She shook her head. “That I’m afraid has been taken out from the records. Privacy for the family after what happened to them.”

His throat constricted at the thought. Air struggling to get to his lungs. He was being ridiculous—thinking that you had something to do with this entire situation. Except then he recalled last night. The way you strayed from answering his questions, each one being directed back at him. All he really knew was that you were a bounty hunter, but lies could have come easier to you than he expected.

“And…do you know the name for the current agent?”

Jocasta pointed to the file he was looking for. “They are given a choice of which name they’d like to be called after giving their true name. This one said the same thing.”

He felt like the remaining air was punched from his lungs as he stared at the name blaring up at him from the screen.

ASTRA — STATUS: UNDERCOVER

There’s a reason you didn’t give him the truth, a reason why you kept your cloak on until no longer possible. You weren’t a bounty hunter, nor were you here for a simple mission. You were an agent of the Republic, disguised as a hunter for those that they saw as the enemy, and out of all the names…you had chosen the one he gave you. Not your true name, nor the name of your family, but something that kept you attached to him.

He blinked, hoping that the data would somehow change and yet it continued to remain the same. The orders from Mace Windu told him he was to hunt you down and explain the situation—how things had changed. How you were about to enter dangerous territory. Somehow you’d gone from the innocent young woman on Corellia he cared deeply for, to someone who was able to deceive those who wished for the Republic’s ruin.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he was more stunned or proud.

“Is that all you needed?”

He coughed, peering over at Jocasta. “Yes. Yes this is everything. Thank you.”

Glancing at the documents he found himself at a loss for words still. How was he meant to find you in the middle of Coruscant? When he could barely keep track of his own padawan. Letting out a sigh, he ran a hand through his beard—flicking through the file and discovering that you began your time with the Republic a year after the two of you parted ways. Why you chose this path was a question he wished he could ask you.

Except how could he ask such a question when it was clear why you hid it from him. Nobody was supposed to know. Not even him.

According to the documents there was no way to reach you, which left him with the difficult task of finding out where you were meant to be within your job. Closing down the file, he transferred it to the holopad beside him—knowing he could possibly get in trouble for taking things without Jocasta’s permission. But he needed it if you were ever going to believe why he tracked you down. Slipping it into his cloak, he made his way through the archives until he was back at the staircase.

“Please remain safe dewdrop,” he muttered under his breath, knowing that whatever you were sent to do was dangerous enough to inevitably cost your life.

He just hoped he’d find you before that happened.

The heavy footsteps of Count Dooku echoed behind you as you walked down the hallways of the facility. Your blaster was at the ready—attached to your right hip—as you kept watch for anyone who may have infiltrated the place. While that scenario was unlikely, you wouldn’t put it past someone to try. After all, he was the sole cause of Senator Amidala’s situation and supporters of hers would risk their lives to cease his actions.

“Astra,” his voice seemed to bounce off the walls, causing him to seem louder than he actually was.

“Yes?” you asked. Turning slightly you managed to get a good view of him in your peripheral vision.

“Make sure you stand guard outside while I speak with Lord Sidious.”

“I thought Jango–”

His hand raising cut off your words. “Jango Fett has…different responsibilities given to him. You’re now to be my personal guard.”

You knew better than to ask him to clarify. The agonizing burn of his lightsaber cutting into the side of your leg was a fresh enough memory to have you biting back your words. Arguing with Count Dooku never went well. In all honesty, it was easier to stick your neck out and offer for it to be sliced open. One way or another—you would be suffering in pain. Nobody went against him for this very reason and you had learned this lesson the hard way.

“Yes sir,” you said.

It would be so easy to draw your blaster, shoot him and end it all here. There would be no impending war, no more pain caused by the side that reveled in death—in the agony of others. All there would be was your demise. Yet somehow it felt worth it in the end. The previous agent before you attempted the same thing. Kill who was at the top and finally put an end to all the suffering, but in the end they were met with a fate worse than death. You knew by trying even something remotely similar to that would cause you to wish you were dead.

Except there was a truth you had yet to even admit to yourself. You were already dead.

You died the second you left Obi-Wan to wake up in your room alone; the message was clear to him once he found you were gone. There would be no future with one another. No possible outcome where he could love you as freely as you wished and in the end it caused you to feel something you soon realized the agent previous to you felt. Death was a kind solution to the painful anguish of a broken heart.

“Fucking coward,” you mumbled under your breath as the door shut behind you with a resounding bang.

Even as you stood there, watching the empty hallways, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. All for one simple reason. What would Obi-Wan think if he found you dead? What would he do? You’d never seen him angry before, but part of you wondered if he’d finally snap—break away from the perfect role he fit himself into. Or would he simply blame himself? You supposed that was your worst fear in the end. The thought of him living out the rest of his days, wracked with guilt because of you and your actions.

No matter how much you wished you could tear this evil up from the root, you still wore their symbol on your arm. You made a pledge to both the Republic and to the Separatists that you would enact their orders when told to. They were two sides of a coin and you simply had to flip it to see where your future resided.

The sight of familiar armor heading towards you caused you to shove away any and all thoughts about your pain—locking them tightly behind a shut door in your mind. Jango Fett had his helmet underneath his arm, blaster attached to his hip, and walked towards you with his usual eased gait that made you itch under your skin. It’s not that you loathed him—nor did you wish him to leave—you tolerated him to the best of your ability. Except even that became a challenge when he seemed intent on finding out what exactly went on in your head.

“Stuck with guard duty I see,” he said, his lips curving up into a smirk.

You willed yourself not to turn your blaster on him. “Doing Count Dooku’s personal bidding I see.”

Tutting under his breath, he smiled. “Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not.” Your eyes narrowed at him. “Let me know when you get bored of doing his errands and I’ll let you play guard again.”

The slight shift in his demeanor wasn’t drastic, but you caught it. The twitch of his eye, his smile dropping ever so slightly. While you preferred to avoid Jango altogether, you had to admit it was quite a joyous sight to press his buttons—giving him something to chew on while you remained impassive to his taunts. A part of you wanted to laugh at the quick way his hand fell down to his side, his fingers shifting as he fought against shooting you. He knew as well as you did that you earned your right to stand there. Count Dooku put you both through the ringer—nearly killing you in the end—and in the end neither of you could argue against who belonged and who didn’t.

You both did in your own twisted way.

“How long until he’s ready to depart?”

That perked your attention. “Depart?”

“There’s been talk about an army—” He was cut off when the door opened, Count Dooku soon re-entering the hallway.

“Ah Jango Fett,” he said, ignoring you altogether. It didn’t phase you—not when this had been the case for years. “Have you come with news?”

“I have sir.”

Before he could begin telling the plans, Count Dooku turned to you—the look in his eyes clear. You were to leave them be. After all, hearing this conversation was not a part of your duty as a guard, and so with a stiff nod you walked down the hallway—your mind reeling. If the Republic was building an army that meant they must know what the Separatists were up to. As far as you knew you were the only spy and yet somehow they managed to figure out this information before you could relay it back to them. You couldn’t worry about the how though…not now. Not when one thing suddenly became vibrantly clear to you.

The coin had been flipped and it seemed your future had finally been decided.

Rushing down the hallway, you slipped outside and headed towards your quarters. If Count Dooku needed you back he would let you know through your comlink, but for now you had to send word to the Republic of what exactly was about to happen. If they didn’t know about the droid army…if somehow they didn’t know about Count Dooku being a Sith…they were screwed.

Fumbling with the lock on your door, you slipped into your room and rushed towards where your separate comlink was stored away. When you were given the mission to remain here, you created a literal hole in the wall of your quarters, the comlink being stuffed inside along with an extra blaster. In case you had to escape quickly in the night, you always kept a bag packed. Your Republic pin, still attached to an old jacket of yours that you used to own.

The familiar static met your ears once you flipped the switch to turn it on. You only had a finite amount of time before you were called back and so you did your best to rush things.

“This is an agent of the Republic. If anyone is listening…I have news about the Separatists.”

Exhaling, you clutched the comlink tightly in your palm, your ears keeping track of every shift and movement you heard on the outside of your quarters. If you were caught you would die. This you knew the moment you took the mission. Which is why you did your best to remain as careful as possible over the years. But how could you be careful about this? How could you not attempt to get back to the Republic after learning about what happened?

The constant static finally broke—someone’s voice coming through. “This is Obi-Wan Kenobi. What is your name?”

You felt as if all the breath was knocked out of you at the sound of his voice echoing back to you. Had you woken up in a dream? Surely, he wasn’t receiving your comlink, but someone else pretending to be him. Except then he came through again the same question of who this was now setting your brain back into motion. It was him… He was somehow close to Geonosis, which meant that maybe you weren’t entirely alone in this situation after all.

Scrambling with your comlink, you managed to get through again—the echo of footsteps coming down the hallway towards your quarters now louder than before.

“This is Astra…” Taking in a shaky breath, you didn’t wait for his response. “There’s talk of an army being built for the Separatists. They’re forming an alliance with Count Dooku as I speak. ”

“Astra,” his voice sounded softer now—as if he was in disbelief that you were on the other side of this call. “I tried to search for you on Coruscant—”

“There’s no time.” The footsteps were practically pounding in your head, the noise of them causing your hands to shake as you blurted out the rest of your information. “A larger droid army is being built to come after the Republic and I can’t—”

A loud bang on your door had you nearly leaping into the air from the sheer shock alone. With a shaky breath, you rushed to turn off the comlink, shoving it back into the hole before replacing the painting over it. Whatever happened now would be Obi-Wan’s choice and whether or not he could transmit a message in time. He couldn’t take on everyone alone, let alone with your help. Shifting, you opened the door to see Jango standing on the other side—his helmet now atop his head.

“Don’t tell me. We’re switching places,” you said.

A dry laugh echoed through the modulator. “You’re needed back.”

“What for?”

“It seems we’re going to have guests arriving soon.”

Fixing the cloak at your throat you attempted to remain as impassive as possible. “What guests?”

Jango shrugged. “Guards aren’t meant to know things like that. You’re only meant to stand there.”

“What a bunch of bantha shit,” you muttered, allowing him to walk on ahead of you. The longer you took the more time you would be able to give Obi-Wan to reach the planet's surface and get out word to whoever.

However, it seemed that even Count Dooku was able to piece together the puzzle that even you had trouble with. Coruscant and Geonosis were too many parsecs away to be able to travel it so quickly—which left the Jedi with the impossible task of getting here before things got out of hand. However, you already knew of one Jedi who was on the planet's surface and you could only hope that the people within this facility didn’t find out about him before you had a chance to track him down.

Jango led you down an unfamiliar hallway, towards where you figured Dooku would be. It looked darker than the others and while that didn’t exactly come off as odd, you were still keeping your guard up in case you weren’t actually being led to guard. He walked fast, your pace having to be hurried in order to catch up to him, but the sight of Viceroy Gunray standing beside Dooku made you pause.

You’d seen him here before. The fact that he was the one who worked with Dooku to assassinate Senator Amidala didn’t surprise you in the slightest. You’d always known they were in league together. However, the Republic didn’t and you’d pay good credits to see their reaction at finding out Count Dooku wasn’t who they thought he was.

“Welcome back Astra.” Dooku’s voice made your stomach turn.

“Sir,” you said. 

The room held a circular table large enough for everyone to sit at and as you quickly took a scan of who sat where, you realized…they weren’t simply planning to take down the Republic. The plans projected in the center of the table made your chest tighten with fear. It looked like a planet in itself. Yet how could that be possible? You’d never heard of a planet that was made rather than formed by nature.

He doesn’t state where he’s going or why, he simply gestures to you—reminding you of your place. 

Wherever they’re headed feels like it takes an eternity to get there. Although you wondered if that was merely your panicked mentality getting the better of you the longer you were there. Obi-Wan was in the facility somewhere. Yet getting to him felt like an impossible feat. He said he went looking for you on Coruscant…even after you left him and you had to shove down the ache in your chest. This job would only work if nothing interfered—that’s what you promised the Republic when you said yes—but the longer you tried to forget about what your heart wanted…the more you saw his blue eyes.

It seemed you couldn’t rid yourself of him even if you tried. He was engraved in your heart deeply, embedded in the very fibre of your bones.

“Look alive,” Jango muttered behind you as he took the lead, leaving you to trail behind—your blaster loosely dangling in your hand.

“Fucking bucket head,” you spit under your breath.

Thankfully everyone was far enough ahead of you to overlook the words you said more to yourself than anyone else. Every manner of curses were listed in alphabetical order in your mind while you walked, but then you felt it. The sharp tug on your cloak—stopping you for a brief moment. Your head swung to the left side of the corridor before you caught it, the sight that nearly stopped your heart. Obi-Wan was slotted between a gathering of wires, a slight smile tugging on his lips as he no doubt heard every thought in your head—an agreement passing from you to him.

He was here…he had found his way back to you.

Only your short reprieve of joy was short lived as you remembered the plan that was to be set in motion. Shaking your head at him, you shoved a single thought his way in the hopes that he was listening.

You need to go!

Unable to stop, you didn’t see his reaction to your words. He’d have to figure out where to hide until you were finally set free from your duties. However—you feared there wouldn’t be time to see one another again. Not after what you overheard and saw in the room. They were planning for something even greater than what you originally expected; greater than what the Republic believed.

“Wait here,” Jango’s voice rudely ripped you out of your own head as you were left to stand guard in a room with Dooku’s supposed guests.

They talked in a language you could not understand, which gave you a chance to gather your thoughts. Obi-Wan would no doubt be attempting to contact the Jedi Order at this time, explaining the situation. Except you could only hope that they arrived on time…before Dooku discovered the lone Jedi wandering his facility. There was nothing you could do. The Separatists truly believed that you were on their side; that your future lay with them and to break that trust now would be to sentence yourself to death.

You felt it before you heard it. The alarm in the room shook you to your core as your sense of calm went to utter shit within seconds. You weren’t sure how long you’d been standing there, but in that manner of time Obi-Wan had been found.

Glancing at the people in the room, you watched as their attention quickly turned to the hologram of Dooku in front of them. The door slid open—droids pushing you aside as they took over—and you didn’t hesitate to slip back out into the hallway. You knew where they would keep him, where Dooku usually kept his prisoners, but there’d be no way to get to him on time. Not when Jango Fett was coming around to your left, his blaster raised and aimed directly at you.

“I always knew it,” he spit out through the modulator.

“Knew what?” Perhaps if you remained calm you would make it out of here alive—preferably unscathed.

He dropped the blaster to his side, his arm slamming against your chest and shoving you back into the wall—the pressure on your throat light but firm. This was him reminding you as Dooku did of your place. He could kill you…easily. Yet he didn’t.

“You’re an agent of the Republic,” he hissed in a low tone as droids marched down the hallway.

“What and you aren’t?”

A dangerous question to ask at this time, but you couldn’t stop the smugness from spilling out into your voice. You knew what he did. The army he was going to tell Dooku about.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?”

Your lips quirked up. “Don’t tell me you helped create an entire army out of the goodness of your heart.”

Even though he still wore his helmet—you felt the shock go through his body. “How did you–”

“You may work for Dooku, but you and I both know you’ll take both sides if it comes down to it. You’re just like me, Fett.”

“We’re not alike,” he said even as the pressure on your throat became lighter. “You pledged your life to the Republic.”

“And I pledge it to the Separatists. You were there. I just want to see who wins and who loses before I take my true stance. Wouldn’t you do the same thing?”

His arm fell to his side, your words finally taking hold of his mind. Though they were outright blatant lies, you could see his demeanor shifting in the way he viewed you. No longer as a pitiful person who couldn’t defend themselves. But rather someone who saw the angle of both sides. Both light and dark and in between the balance that you stood in—just as he did. There was no one without the other, you knew that, and today the Jedi would win but tomorrow may turn out to be a different story.

“They found a Jedi,” he said—his voice back to normal. “One who followed me here. Do you know him?”

“What’s his name?” The panic set in your bones. You knew who they found, who was no doubt now sitting in Dooku’s prison.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

You shook your head immediately. “Never heard of him.”

“Good,” Jango replied, his head turning to see the last of the droids out. “Because they’re sending him to the arena.”

Your heart plummeted. “What for?”

“Dooku wants a show.”

The beeping of his comlink cut him off before he could tell you the rest. Leaning back against the wall you barely caught the tail end of the conversation—the words Jedi and Senator all you heard—because your mind officially landed on the worst scenario. Not being able to see him again before all of this went down wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. No…that was beat by the thought of never seeing him again ever. They were going to kill the man you loved.

You could no longer think straight let alone act as if you were okay.

Jango left you alone, his new orders pulling him away as you tried to come to terms with one fact. Obi-Wan would be dead before the day was over and he’d never know how you truly feel about him. He’d die…thinking you left regretting that night.

“Obi-Wan you’ll be the death of me,” you whispered, fighting back the hot sting of tears that pricked your eyes. They were words you said to him at one point in your life, a joke meant to make him smile, but the gravity of their truth now pressed heavily on your shoulders.

There was no time to grieve your situation, no time to panic. All you were left with was the option to find him—to save him from his condemned future. Even if it killed you in the end.

They were tied to posts, awaiting their deaths and you never felt more helpless. The battle had begun as you rushed towards your place near Dooku, beside Jango. While a part of you felt relieved that Obi-Wan managed to get himself away from the post—attempting to take down the Acklay or at least run from it—another part of you felt your chest tighten with every passing second. This could be it. The cause of his death and you’d have no way to save him without destroying the cover you built for so long.

Shouts of glee echoed throughout the arena, frying your nerves and causing you to gasp at every turn. Obi-Wan managed to duck out of the way as his padawan and a senator were atop the back of the Reek. They would all be fine…they had to be. If not for your sake then the sake of the entire Republic.

Turning as a cry came from beside you, the glow of a purple lightsaber stopped you in your path. A flood of relief filled your veins at the sight. Only to realize…you were wearing armor that held the Separatist’s symbol. The Jedi didn’t know who you were—your cover so deep for a reason—which meant you’d be dead within seconds if you didn’t get out of there.

The Jedi turned to Dooku, his attention focused solely on him, and you quickly leaped over the railing of the balcony landing on the ground of the arena with a cry. A searing pain spread down your leg to your ankle, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. The arena was slowly being filled with Dooku’s droid army and Jedi were starting their attacks. Yet even as you pulled your blaster out—pretending to look like you were on the opposite side—you were frantically searching for one man.

A lightsaber scraped against your armor, the metal thankfully blocking you from gaining a new scar. You had to move, get towards him, but he seemed rather busy fighting against droids that attempted to surround him.

“Obi-Wan!” you shouted, your voice swallowed by the shouts and screams around you.

Yet he still heard you—turning around within seconds and heading your way. It was the sight of a Jedi attempting to go after you that stopped him in his path. You were still undercover—still a soldier for the enemy—but neither of you could be parted for long. He knew that better than you. So…you ran. Ducked beneath the Jedi and headed towards him.

Blaster fire was coming from all directions, encasing you in a hell of what felt like your own making. This was it. This is what would kill you. It seemed only right after how you had treated your life and how many wrongs you did without any chance of righting them. Even you had to laugh at that realization. Except if this was it...why were you still fighting like you had a chance to escape? Why were you so adamant on the fact that you would make it out of this battlefield alive?

You knew why, and he stood feet away, dodging fire and swiping his lightsaber through the air towards a group of droids that looked to have been heading your way. Really they were going after the Jedi you escaped from.

He was the reason you were there in the first place. Watching as he twisted his weapon in a way that you could never understand, you caught your breath and prepared yourself to head back into battle one more time.

To everyone else it looked as though you were following orders from the enemy's side. Taking position to bring down the Republic, but to him it looked as though you were fighting only those that came your way. You said plain and simple that things were far more complicated than you could explain when you saw him again—his questions soon being silenced by your lips. Yet that wasn’t the truth at all.

Obi-Wan noticed it first when Anakin came hurtling towards you only to be kicked to the ground a hit from the butt of your blaster landing on his head. Enough to disarm, but not enough to wound or even cause long lasting harm. He would live with a headache for quite some time, but he would survive nonetheless. You claimed things were complicated, the records confirming your words, but he saw it clearly now. How your eyes lingered on him for longer than you possibly even noticed.

You were fighting for the Separatists to save the Republic.

It seemed that seeing the file, seeing you here, never quite struck him until now. You were truly an agent of both sides while still looking like the enemy, and he couldn’t stop himself from watching as you fought so fluidly he’d think you were holding a lightsaber.

You were brilliant, was the first thought that came to his mind. How you managed to live this way for so long, lie to those you cared for, lie to him, he would never know. It only took him seconds to realize…he loved you still, but that was soon erased from his mind when he noticed the predicament you were in. Taking on two Jedi at once and attempting to come out alive in the end. If he were to come to your aid it would be clear of what you were to him, how he longed for you. They would know that he’d broken his code and yet even as the shame ate away inside of him now—he didn’t care what they thought.

No, he did the only logical thing he could think of as droids came towards him for yet another attack.

He leaped in the air, taking the lead in front of the other Jedi—all who seemed to be lacking a blue saber—and signaled for them to give this fight to him. He was the warrior, trained in combat given the nature of his kyber crystal color, which is why it was no surprise that they took over in attacking the droids. Leaving you all to himself.

“Tell me,” he said, striking a parry at you in the hopes that he gave you enough time to dodge the simple attack. You did, grabbing for the blaster at your side that you knew had a slower release time. He’d be able to block the attacks from miles away without seeming like he was merely attempting to pass the time until he could get the both of you out of this arena. “Why didn’t I know about your allegiance with the Republic?”

His elbow slammed into your chest, forcing you to stumble backwards into the wall behind you, the blaster falling helplessly to the floor only to be kicked away. Pain lacing the spot for a few moments, before you were pushing that down as well. You barely heard his question over the sounds of the battle, but the words settled into your mind. Burrowing deep until there was no denying the fact that he knew what you were up to now. Your eyes widened in shock, but you only had a few seconds to process what was happening before he was bringing his lightsaber down in an attack that could potentially maim you.

Rolling out of the way you reached for a different discarded blaster on the ground and pulled the trigger without thinking. Never did you think that you would be fighting him of all people and yet it seemed fair due to your history. Each move was meticulously thought out within a short span of time, the battle soon morphing into a dance of two lovers. He lunged only for you to backtrack, finding your footing and using the armor attached to your forearms to protect you against the lightsaber.

Pure beskar. The Separatist’s liked to keep their weapons well protected.

“How did you find out?” you asked in a whispered breath once he was close enough. “My comlink call wasn’t what revealed it.”

His lightsaber was blocked by your metal, his face now close to your own. “I was sent to find an agent of the Republic and instead found the name…Astra. You used it. After all this time–” He stumbled back when you kicked towards his legs, shooting at him only to have it blocked.

“Ye–Yes after all this time.” Wincing from the small slice he managed to get towards the unprotected portion of your shoulder, you fell to one knee and fired three more shots his way. “Don’t tell me it was only that.”

He flipped away from the blaster fire that was sent his way. “You don’t always look at your enemies in such a reverent way do you, because if so—well—consider me jealous.”

You bit back the scoff that attempted to rise up. “Obi-Wan–” Grunting when his elbow slammed into your back, you tried to breathe through the pain. “You noticed?” you gasped.

Kicking his shin with enough force to send him to his knee you grappled for his lightsaber and watched in triumph as it flew through the air only for Anakin to catch it. Still that gave you enough time to wrangle him to the ground, your knee pressed to his neck and vibroblade—that had been attached to your thigh—ready to slice into his chest. You could do it. Easily enough. Lodge the weapon into his heart and be done with this constant pain that you lived through, but then you had to glance up at his face. Your eyes seeing the same emotions that waged war within your mind, reflected back at you through a brilliant blue.

“Dewdrop,” he breathed, fear nonexistent in his form, but rather being replaced by something else—an emotion too dark for even a Jedi to harbor. Desire, longing. “How could I not? When it’s how I look at you.”

The breath was knocked out of your lungs from his words alone, but it was the lightsaber going through your side that had you crying out in pain. Falling to the side you felt as if every nerve in your body was on fire. You realized in that split second that you only had a limited amount of time to tell him how you felt—how you’d always feel. Yet all you could think about was that stupid joke you had procured earlier.

This is how you would die, before the very man who you promised forever to years ago. Dying without righting any of the wrongs you had done.

Smiling briefly, your vision blurred as tears streamed down your cheeks. Someone was standing over you—the shadow of their figure felt like a comfort to you—only to realize that it was someone you knew well. An old friend you figured had been lost to you forever. Stretching out your hand you allowed yourself a moment for the smile on your lips to deepen, reaching your glassy eyes as someone called your name from a distance.

“Qui-Gon,” you breathed, head falling against the dirt covered floor. “I’ve missed you–” A searing pain in your side caused you to scream, a sob tearing through your chest and echoing in your ears.

Obi-Wan watched as ships descended from the sky and quickly ordered Anakin to grab your blaster and his lightsaber as he gathered you in his arms. He didn’t care if anyone saw him carrying a bounty hunter for the Separatists to safety. He would not leave you to fade away on this battlefield, not when you could be saved with some bacta and rest. Questions would arise about your relationship to him—why he was so insistent on saving you of all people—and he would give them their due diligence when the time came.

For now he was determined to keep you from leaving him again.

Your whisper of his former master’s name left him jarred to say the least, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing a kit in the corner of the ship as it took off into the air.

“You had to stab her?” he asked, the harsh words directed towards Anakin who offered his help in wrapping your other wound.

“She was about to stab you herself Master.”

“I had it under control.” Pressing the needle into your skin directly beneath the wound he injected the bacta into your system, focusing on controlling his emotions at the same time. Damn you and your recklessness, and yet he felt he must damn himself as well. For not paying attention to what was going on around him. Letting out a breath he turned to Anakin who was focused solely on making sure the bandage was tied properly around your shoulder. “Thank you,” he said, softer than before.

“You’re welcome, Master.”

Obi-Wan knew that a fight was to be had still, and the thought of leaving you here on this ship alone left him with a sour taste in his mouth. Except there was no getting around that fact. Running a hand down his face he nodded at Anakin to focus on something else as he rested for a few moments beside you. Watching as your eyes fluttered while you dreamed about who knows what.

“My darling dewdrop,” he whispered, pressing a hand to your cheek. “You do know how to drag me into trouble.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, savoring in the memory of your laugh echoing in the back of his mind. A moment of his past resurfacing for a moment as he fondly remembered what it was like for it to be the other way around. You’ll be the death of me Obi-Wan Kenobi. Words you had said on a whim years ago on Correlia now felt too real to the situation at hand. He wanted to deny it—say anything else would happen, but now, as he watched you fight for your life, he knew you had spoken the truth.

He would be the death of you.

Sooner than either of you wished.

[sugarxlumps]

Can't Help It

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Hey guys! Oml I promise, I'll do other characters after this :') I just couldn't help myself, Gojo Satoru has my heart

Note: Image is not mine, Gojo as a character also isn't my own :)

WARNINGS: degredation, choking, mating press, hot smut ;)

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He was too much; Gojo Satoru. He knew too much. Too much of how to get a rise out of you, leaving you flustered and stammering, and you knew this. The moment he got too close to getting you melt at his touch, his long teasing fingers brushing against your thigh, the way he slid his hand at the small of your back to make his way through, even when there was all the space in the world. As he moved past, you could barely make out that he said "Excuse me, miss", his warm breath hitting your ear as he grazed by you, causing you to shiver visibly and your breath hitch. Your head whipped around to follow his steps as he walked away from you. He used any excuse to lay his hands on you. Which is exactly why you avoided him like the plague.

Only when it was absolutely necessary did you ever interact with him, attempting to avoid his dangerously sweet touches that wreaked havoc on your body as it was. You could only imagine how euphoric his hands would feel on the rest of your body, especially to your neglected cunt that’s been craving attention… his attention specifically. You've tried to extinguish the fire in your body that craves his cock at night yourself, but it just isn't the same.

But of course Gojo knew this; making his way back home from missions and he hears you with your windows open. But your avoidance of him definitely doesn't go unnoticed either. You train 1:1 with Nanami twice a week; not being a direct student of his own, it's surprising he commits that much time to you along with the other things he's got going on. Training days are the days that Gojo grumbles about as he could think of a much better use of that time "Damn, I could be making her scream right now” He finds himself murmuring aloud. But with the strings he's pulled on Nanami, you won't be able to avoid him any longer and he'll have you all to himself.

_____________

"What? That doesn't even make any sense, why would they do that?" You questioned Nanami in annoyance, clear to hear through the speaker of his phone.

"I'm the wrong person to be asking that, y/n. I'm in no mood to debate this. I won't be coming back until next week, so just take the week off." Nanami huffed, his tone almost apologetic; he knew how dedicated you were to training.

You sighed in annoyance. "No. You know I can't do that."

"Okay, then ask Gojo."

You froze, a silence coming over the line. "Y/n?"

"No. I can't do that either." You clenched you teeth. Damn, did you really have to? Of course, he just had to be the only teacher left.

"Then I don't know what to tell you, y/n. It's either him, or take the week off" And with that, Nanami fared you goodbye through the speaker and hung up.

Well damn, this is the true test of dedication huh? Well just no fun and games then you thought to yourself. You gotta get to work. You commit reluctantly, your body already tensing up.

After hesitating, I finally dial Gojo and a few rings go by until you hear his familiar voice.

"Hey there pretty. Now to what do I owe the pleasure?" Gojo teases. You gulp at the nickname, but roll your eyes as if to convince yourself.

"Look, just calling to see if you can train with me this week. Usual times I do with Nanami. Yes or no?" You ask plainly.

Gojo chuckles over the speaker, his husky voice sending shivers to your spine. "Jeez, so cut and dry huh? I might do with some manners, y/n" He remarks playfully, his plans already falling into place. He knows you'd try to be acting like the straightest arrow with him, but he knows just how to make you crumble.

You huff before speaking again. "Can you train with me this week… please" You ask hesitantly.

"There, see? Not too bad, right?" You can hear the smirk in his voice, imagining that damned wicked smirk of his that could make your breath hitch.

"8:30 tonight, my place"

"Y-you're place?" You stutter a bit, not expecting him to offer his place. "Why not the studio?"

"Don't worry, I've got one at my place. You forget who I am, doll." He purrs the nickname, making you part your mouth and a small flame ignite in your core. "I'm the greatest sorcerer after all; work hard play hard all from the comfort of my own home."

You think it over. I mean I guess it'd be closer to home than training on campus, a plus since training gets excruciating to walk home from.

"Okay, fine. I'll be there" You huff. You hang up and sigh once more. This should be interesting.

_____________

You wince in pain, as your body thuds to the floor from where Gojo had knocked you back. You're quick to get up, holding the side of your waist.

"You've got quite the fire there, sweetness" He smirks, shifting his glasses down to wink at you. He's been shooting flirty remarks all through session, only 30 minutes having passed with you two sparring and it's getting you irritated. But only at the fact that he knows just what to say to get you all riled up with heat rising to your cheeks.

You lunge at him again, but he grabs your arm to pull your body in and spinning you around to face him. He's pinned one hand behind your back and holding your other by your wrist, pinning it to his chest. "You're getting ahead of yourself, y/n. You're becoming a little predictable. Loosen up a bit, hm sweetie?" He breathes on your lips, grazing too dangerously close to them as wetness begins to drip from your cunt.

You try to compose yourself, and annoyance overcomes you once again. You elbow him and swing at him again, this time imbuing cursed energy into your fist as it burns black, preparing for a black flash.

He swiftly catches your fist in his, the power of the contact between your swing and his hand causing the wall behind him to cave into a dent. He grips your wrists and turns your back to him as he pulls you up against his chest, your head hitting his shoulder.

You grunt in pain at the contact.

"Gotta admit that burned a little, princess" He growled into your ear, only sending more of your slick gushing to your pussy and threatening to leak through your panties and onto your thighs. "I might have to punish you for that one."

"Gojo, please." Your voice cracks. You weren't even sure of what you were pleading for; for him to continue? For him to stop? You couldn't help yourself any longer, and it was all lost upon you now as you could feel the hardness of his bulge through his pants grinding up against you.

"Please what y/n? Want me to stop? Or keep going? You're going to have to be specific with me darling" He suggests, his grip on your wrists tightening and grinding his hard-on harder against you, the contact almost lifting up your skirt itself. You groan unconsciously at the feeling of how big he was with his pants still constricting him, giving Gojo the answer he already knew, but he wanted it spilling from your lips specifically.

"P-please, don't stop" You gasp as he nips at your neck, sucking harshly only to lick at the tender spot as if to heal it. His hand releases your wrists to grope your breasts through your uniform, slowly unbuttoning the jacket and throwing it aside.

"That's what I like to hear" Gojo chuckles darkly in your ear, ripping the rest of the top of your uniform off, revealing your bra. He unhooks it swiftly, letting your tits drop bare in front of him as he gazes down at them.

"Shit, y/n" He breathes, quick to roll them between his fingers as he continues to trail kisses down your neck and licks stripes up to your ear, eliciting lewd moans from you. He dips his hand between your legs, running a finger along your clothed folds, feeling your slick instantly.

"Damn baby, all for me? Is this how wet you are when you're touching yourself at night moaning my name?" He seethes, his voice making you tremble and you cheeks flush pink at embarrassment that he could hear you all this time trying to relieve your thirst for him and his touch. You could do nothing but moan in admittance.

He chuckles at your response. He hooks his fingers around your skirt and the hem of your panties, sliding them both off in unison. He turns you around to face him, wanting to see the look on your face when he finally touches you in the spot you needed him most.

He doesn't wait to slide two of his fingers into you, your slick walls clenching desperately around his digits as you moan and gasp loudly at the unexpected stretch and sting from him entering you just with his fingers. You clutch onto his arm tightly, mentally cursing to yourself why you're the one completely naked while he's here still fully clothed.

"See baby? Look at you" Gojo groans into your ear at the tightness of your pussy clenching around his fingers, already anticipating how you'll feel wrapped around his cock that's straining painfully against his pants. "Making such a mess on my fingers, and I've barely done anything" He begins to pump his fingers, curling them to hit your sweet spot repeatedly with dangerous accuracy. You moan loudly at the sensation, heat continuing to build in your core and your body tingling.

"G-gojo" You pant breathlessly, clutching onto him for dear life as your legs give out, leaning on him for support, silently thanking him for being as strong as he is.

"Mmm" He groans at how sinful you moan his name. "Such a good girl for me"

Your pussy clenches tighter around his digits, pushing him to add a third as you yelp at the stinging stretch, now clawing at the back of his neck.

Gojo laughs sadistically, "So you want me to talk to you like that, huh?" He asks rhetorically, your body and moans already agreeing.

He continues the thrust his fingers into you, curling them against your walls to graze perfectly on your sweet spot, bringing you closer to the relief you've been craving since you laid eyes on him.

"G-gojo… I-I'm.. I'm gonna" You try to say, but the words fail to gather together in a coherent sentence.

"What's that y/n? What do you need?" He urges on, only thrusting his fingers faster into you to push you over the edge.

"Oh my god, Satoru! I-I'm cumming!" You moan, cutting you off as he presses his lips hungrily to yours to swallow your moans. You bite his lip, causing a moan to escape his own lips. He hungrily massages your breast as he continues to finger you to ride out your orgasm as you trembling in front of him at his touch. You were his.

He gives you a moment to recollect yourself and catch your breath, showering you with feather-light kisses down your collarbone.

"Please Satoru… I need you" You whisper, desire pooling in your eyes and dripping in your tone as you palm his hard-on through his pants that twitches under your touch.

"Since you asked so nicely…" He smirks, that damn smirk that makes your knees weak as he continues to hold you up. He clasps his hand together to warp you both, and within a blink of an eye your surroundings are no longer that of the studio, but of his room; dark with only the moonlight shining through big elegant windows.

"How can I deny such a request, when you're this hot and bothered?" He caresses your face, cupping it in his hand as he runs his thumb over the bottom of your lip. "Such a pretty slut for me" He growls lowly.

At that, your pussy clenches again, sending heat to your core and biting down on his thumb, earning a groan from him. He quickly puts a hand to your throat, squeezing the sides of it enough to have your head to nod back slightly and your eyes flutter behind your eyelids as you moan.

"Mm so you want it like that?" He laughs as he swiftly picks you up to set you down on the bed.

"You dirty little thing" He licks his lips at the sight of you finally splayed out on his bed for him as he unbuttons his uniform and unbuckling his pants, discarding them to the floor only to leave him clad in his briefs.

You drool at the sight of him, both your mouth and your pussy watering at the sight of him strip in front of you. The sight you've been waiting for, for what feels like ages now. Your eyes rake over his figure as you prop yourself on your elbows. Looking over how muscular and toned his muscles are with each movement he makes, how big the bulge in his briefs are, how massive his bare frame is to yours, and how celestial his eyes are as he devours your own figure with such dark lust and desire, making heat only ignite further within you.

He pushes his way through your thighs, settling himself between them as he kisses trails from your thighs to your navel, and reaching your breasts to suck on your nipple tenderly, kneading them between his teeth. You arch your back at the sensation, entangling your fingers in his silver hair as you gasp and your brows furrow. His hand massages your breast and travels down to cup your cunt, his fingers grazing the opening of your folds. He lowers his head down between your thighs, taking in the sight of your glistening pussy that he's gotten all to himself.

"F-fuck, Satoru, just -" You plead, but before you could finish he puts a hand to your throat harshly.

"Patience, princess" He seethes, giving kitten licks to the outer folds of your cunt just for a taste. "Now that I finally have you, I'm taking my time. Besides, isn't this what you wanted? For me to have my way with you?" He smirks as you glance down at him, regretting that you did. The devilish glint hazing over his eyes sending heat waves to your pussy. He finally delves his tongue through your folds without warning and settling to suck on your throbbing clit as he enters two fingers into you, pumping and curling them.

You thrash your head back, clawing at his forearms and shoulders as he pries your thighs a part with his hands. You feel the familiar wave of an orgasm beginning to wash over you again as he continues to curl his fingers into your g-spot and circle his slick tongue around your clit, quenching his thirst with the juices of your cunt as he laps up every last drop.

"Mmm… Satoru, I-I'm close" You warn him, your body becoming a feverish mess as you claw at him desperately, as Gojo smirks at the thought of having such marks in the morning as a reminder of tonight.

"Are you now?" He immediately pulls away, leaving you to throw your head back and groan in frustration, taking your eyes off him for a brief moment enough for him to remove his briefs. The next time you look back at him, your eyes widen hungrily at his cock, adoring how perfect it looks, yet wondering if it'd even fit.

"Don't worry, baby. Daddy's gonna take very good care of you tonight" He purrs, sliding back between you , kissing and sucking the sweet spot of your neck.

"But you have to be the one to tell me exactly what you want" He adds with a chuckle, clearly amused at how you pout slightly, so desperate to have him inside you as you tug on his waist lightly in attempt to pull him closer to you.

He nudges the tip of his cock at your entrance as he lowers his head to graze his lips against yours. "C'mon y/n, you can do it. Tell me what you've been wanting this whole time, baby" He teases raspily, the same hunger in his voice also evident as he tries to hold himself back.

"Please fuck me Satoru" He whimper, surrendering completely as you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders.

With that, he delves his cock through your tight folds, gripping and clenching around every inch of him as he eventually bottoms out, causing you to moan in unison.

"Damn, your pussy's taking my cock so fucking well baby" He grunts as he continues to thrust into you at a powerful pace. "What a perfect slut you make" He smiles cockily, slamming roughly into you as moans continue to fall from your lips. "That's right princess, let the whole school know who fucks you this good" He urges

Your eyes roll behind your eyelids at the euphoric sensation of Gojo stretching you out, filling you up so well that you see a slight bulge in your stomach when he thrusts into you, hitting your cervix and your g-spot every time. The sounds of your hips crashing and the sounds your pussy makes as he thrusts into you mercilessly are too much, already feeling heat building up in your core once again.

"You've been so desperate for my cock, isn't that right princess? Look at you, screaming and begging for me to fuck you like a bitch in heat" He seethes, lowering himself to suck harshly on your nipple, causing you to arch your back as he looks back up at you "How does it feel now that you've got the real thing?" He asks, pushing further into your as your legs press against his shoulders, folding them more onto your chest as he continues to pump his cock into you, pressing into your cervix.

You moan loudly at how deep he hits you, his adjustment causing his cock to hit deeper on your g-spot, your orgasm approaching embarrassingly quick. You continue to moan thoughtlessly, your mind too hazy to begin formulating a response. He puts a hand to your throat and picks up his pace slightly, making you yelp and gasp.

"I demand an answer, pretty" He growls this time, his eyes hungry with desire to hear you fall apart for him.

"Y-yes Satoru! It feels so fucking good!" You cry out, tears now dripping across your cheeks. "Satoru, please." You whimper, "I-I'm gonna cum"

"Cum baby, give it to me" He groans, thrusting relentlessly a couple more times until you unravel before him, completely becoming undone as you claw at his back in desperation, only fueling him more to continue thrusting deep into you to ride out your second orgasm of the night. Once he feels you slightly relax under him, he folds you over more, completely this time. With knees pressed back into the mattress, giving him all and complete access to your pussy to pound it just how he likes, how he's always wanted to.

He groans to keep himself together, close from cumming at this sight alone at how beautiful you look beneath him. "Damn sweetness, you've got me riled up here." he pants, his eyes cast with lust and carnal desire as he looks at you. " Do you know how long I've been waiting to touch you like this? To fuck you like this?" He caresses your jaw, his fingers trailing down to your collarbone and down to your breast to roll your nipple in his fingers. He dips down to connect his lips greedily to yours, emotions spilling out into the kiss as your tongues swirl around each other, everything all at once making you dizzy as you moan sweetly into his mouth, tugging at his hair to elicit a moan to slip from his own as it vibrates against your lips. "To kiss you like that" He says huskily, desire overcoming him.

He pushes himself into you, your walls suffocating around his cock as he groans at the feeling of it. Your mouth parts in a silent scream, sure that you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow with how he’s stretching you out. He's thrusting even deeper into you now, with more raw, carnal desire than before if it were even possible. You mouth parts as you moan loudly without any regards as to who hears you. Your sopping pussy squelching as he slams his hips into yours, the sight of him fucking you into oblivion as his bright blue eyes devour yours, licking his lips ravenously.

"Satoru" You moan sinfully, so much so Gojo has to bite his lip to stop his own eyes from rolling to the back of his eyelids.

"G-gojo, it's t-too much" You moan, putting a hand lightly to his abdomen in a failed attempt to get him to slow down. You've cum so hard, you've never even brought yourself to cum this intensely, this many times consecutively.

"Too much, huh? Already fucked out on my cock, sweetness?" He chuckles, yet adoring the sight of you fucked out on his cock. All you could do was nod and whimper in response.

"Too bad, baby. You think I'm gonna stop here after I've heard you moaning my name so many times by yourself? Such a needy slut" He whispers salaciously into your ear, grunting occasionally with how rough he's pounding himself into you.

Your pussy clenches at his words, more tears streaming down your cheeks with nothing but moans of his name and curses from your lips calling out to him. He wipes them away gently, a harsh contrast to how hard he continues to slam his thick cock into you, a contrast to how his infinite blue eyes pierce into you.

"That's right, y/n." He smiles "You'll take it all like a good girl, right?" He licks a stripe up your nick to nibble on a sweet spot by your collarbone, causing you to only moan louder. "Let everyone know who's fucking cunt this is" He growls lowly. He slips two fingers into your open mouth, your tongue and mouth sucking on them instinctively. He groans at the sight of you like this, folded over sucking on his fingers as saliva trails down the side of your mouth, your eyes and body surrendering to him completely as he dedicates this moment to memory.

"You're mine, princess" He remarks possessively before removing his fingers from your mouth, a string of saliva still connecting from your lips to the tip of his digits. He brings them down to rub small circles on your throbbing neglected clit, causing you to scream in desperation and euphoria, your back arching to him slightly in the position you're in. You're pussy grips even tighter around his cock at his possessive words making you his. Another wave of pleasure begins washing over you, threatening to push you off a new edge as he drives you near the brink of being overstimulated.

"Fuck, good girl, just like that" He pants, as he continues thrust unforgivingly into you.

"Satoru, p-please!" You moan loudly, almost screaming desperately for him, only to for him to cut you off with a hand to your throat. "Say it, baby. Tell daddy what you need" He exhales, eyes engulfing yours completely.

"Please make me cum" You mewl, a couple of more tears streaming down your face as your body is on the brink of uncoiling the spring that he's wound up so tightly. He slamming himself into you in a slightly faster pace, his thrusts getting sloppier as you feel his cock twitch inside of you, indicating he was also close to his own climax.

"Fuck baby, cum for me" He demands, finally allowing your body to release the most intense waves of orgasm you've ever felt, your body on a new high as he continues to thrust into you, your climax fueling his own to follow after. He slows and stills into you, his cock still twitching as he coats the last of his cum along the walls of your cunt.

He removes himself slowly with a groan, laying beside you and quick to pull you to his chest.

"No more avoiding me, okay?" He exhales raspily, gently moving your hair down from your shoulders to place a kiss there.

"Okay" You hum happily as you nuzzle deeper into his chest, fatigue overcoming you as you both lay together.

[letarasstuff]

"I don't wanna leave you, Daddy"

(A/N): This was requested by an Anon and it's based on this concept. I hope you are ready for the feels.

Summary: Hotch's daughter is an introvert. A quiet one. But why does she go even quieter after her mother's death?

Warnings: So much hurt. Angst. Fluff. It's bitter sweet.

Wordcount: 2.3k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

(Y/N) never really was an outgoing person. Even since she was able to walk and talk, she still clung to her parents. She refused to play on the playground when other children were there. Socializing was just not her thing. Her parents were sure that she would never be the person to stand up and perform on stage spontaneously. And it is ok.

This doesn’t really change when Jack comes around. Sure, as he grows older and more capable of things (Y/N) plays with him. But it really seems like he is the only one around her age she is not afraid to befriend.

Aaron and Haley reassure themselves that their daughter will find friends in elementary school. After all this is an institution where many children go to and there also are adults trained for helping them coming along. She definitely will find at least one other kid to hang out with regularly and learn how to be a proper child. Because as of right now (Y/N) is more like a little adult, taking responsibilities, like watching over her little brother, she doesn’t need to do voluntarily. Maybe she will be more messy, rebellious, anything but a perfect child.

But this doesn’t exactly happen. (Y/N)’s teachers are really happy with her. Every parent-teacher conference is about how well and polite she is, always behaving good and following the rules. Sadly, they don’t have any good news regarding her social life. It’s not that she doesn’t get along with her classmates, it’s just that she isn’t able to strike up a conversation or is very good at keeping one long enough that a kid is interested in her.

Knowing that (Y/N) is mostly quiet in her school days, Aaron makes it a habit to bring her more often to the office. She surprisingly warms quickly up to his team and whenever she is around them the girl is an unstoppable tornado running loose around the bullpen.

This is kind of how she grows up until the age of middle school. (Y/N) learns some social skills and makes a few friends over the last few years. Unfortunately these friendships are not as deep as the parents wish, still it’s better than nothing.

Things get difficult when Aaron and Haley start to separate. It never is easy when parents fall out of love and it is not only difficult for Jack to see his father not as often as he used to, considering he still is a toddler needing both parents. Especially (Y/N), who is more of a daddy’s girl than a mommy’s girl, suffers from the situation at home.

Of course it’s hard on her to not see her father for a week or two at a time, but ever since her parents are going on parted ways she sees him at most one weekend every three weeks. This also changes her social life dramastically.

“(Y/N), don’t you wanna do something with your friends? You can invite them over for the weekend”, Haley suggests after watching her daughter not going out with somebody outside of school for several days. For the past two weeks the ten year old just comes home, does her homework and puts her nose in one of the books her Uncle Spencer recommended.

The girl only looks up at her mother to shake her head. “Why not, Sweetie? I haven’t seen William and John in so long. Are you still friends with them?” (Y/N) nods again. “So what is it? Are you guys fighting?” Haley sits down next to her on her bed.

“No, they just-just don’t know about this. I don’t want to tell them. And I want to stay home. It’s ok how it is right now”, she admits. Her mother’s heart breaks at that statement.

In this moment she realizes that anything a parent does has immediate consequences for the children. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. I didn’t know this is so hard for you. Maybe you can talk to them over the next few days about it, I think it’ll help you. Do you want to watch a film with me for now? Jack has a sleepover at a friend’s. We can do a girl’s night. We hadn’t had one in a long time.”

(Y/N)’s eyes light up at that. “With all the candy in the world?” Haley smiles at the newfound excitement. “Of course. Anything you want.”

From only seeing Aaron every now and then it suddenly turns to not knowing when she will see him next. After George Foyet ambushes him and makes his family into the next target, (Y/N), her brother and her mother have to go into witness protection.

The goodbye at the hospital is painful and filled with tears. “But Dad, I don’t want to leave you. I’ll miss you too much. I don’t like not seeing you. And what about you? You will be more lonely and-and I can’t leave you”, she confesses, sobbing into him.

Hotch has to hold his own tears back. He doesn’t want to come over as stoic, but as the strong father figure he always tries to be. “Honey, I know I’ll miss you so much. You have to be strong for your mother. This will not be easy and I know it. I promise to do my best to get all of you back as soon as possible, ok? Please be good for your mother and behave. We all need to work together for you to get back fast and safely.”

(Y/N) continues to cry into his hospital gown. Aaron can’t help it and dissolves in tears himself while trying to calm her down. “Shh, Honey. Everything will be fine. I’m so so sorry for all this. I never wanted something like this to happen. Shh, we will see each other real soon. The team and I will do our best. Just please, don’t cry. Please, it all will be better. I can’t let you go without seeing your beautiful laugh for one last time.”

“I don’t wanna leave you, Daddy. I-I wanna stay with you and Uncle Dave and Auntie JJ and Uncle Spencer and Uncle Der and Auntie Penny and Auntie Em. I’m scared you won’t be fine when we come back.”

It’s needless to say that nobody cracked even a smile that day.

Going into witness protection made Haley worry about Jack especially. He is just four years old and she isn’t sure how much he understands about what’s going on. Surprisingly the boy gets accustomed to the situation pretty fast. Of course he misses his father and his people from school, but he is also quick to meet new ones in the town they moved to.

(Y/N) has bigger problems. New school. New kids. New everything.

“Maybe you can see it as a fresh start. Here is nobody you know. You can be whoever you want to be. I can take you shopping and you can try out a new style”, her mother tries to make the situation sound advantageous to her. But the girl dryly answers: “When somebody doesn’t like me how I am now, how will they like an act?”

Sam Kassmeyer regularly reports back to Aaron about his family’s well being. “Jack is thriving. His teachers describe him as a bundle of joy. (Y/N) slowly gets acclimated to the change. Haley told me she started making friends with a girl in their neighborhood. I already ran a background check and the family is clean.”

Hotch lets out a sigh of relief. He turns towards the image on Penelope’s monitor. “Happy fifth birthday, Buddy.”

A few weeks after that it seems like the events overturn each other.

Foyet coming back. Kassmeyer getting tortured. Foyet finding Haley and the children. Them coming back to their house. The call. Working the case with Jack. The gunshot. The fighting noises. Hotch opening the box and hugging both of his children, relieved to see them alive.

The following weeks are difficult for the now smaller family. They mostly consist of watching videos of happy memories and talking about their feelings. Although it’s more like Jack talking about his feelings, (Y/N) went mostly silent ever since their mother’s death. This worries her father more than anything.

Two months have gone by. “Hey Honey, I’m going into the office today. Do you wanna come with me, stay at home or go to school? Anything is fine by me”, he asks her softly, kneeling beside her chair at the table. The girl is munching on her cereal halfheartedly.

“Can I come to the office?” (Y/N) asks in a hoarse voice. It’s actually the first time in four days that Aaron hears her voice. A small smile forms on his face. “Of course, that’s nice. Aunt Penny is asking me after her favorite Hotchner for days on end now. And Uncle Spencer got a stack of books he has for you to read.”

His daughter nods and quickly gets ready. They are soon on their way to Quantico after dropping Jack off at daycare. “How are your classmates? Do you like the new school?” They decided to send (Y/N) to a different school. She couldn’t bear the thought of only being the girl whose Mom died because of a serial killer.

“It’s fine. There are a few girls who are really nice. I think we can be friends. Mo-” She suddenly cuts herself off. Aaron glances over at her. “Continue, Sweetheart. Just tell me what’s on your mind”, he tries to encourage her.

The girl hesitates before following her father’s advice. “Mom would have liked them,” she mumbles. It’s quiet for a few seconds. Hotch is looking for a suitable answer. After all it’s the first time she talked about her mother since her death. “I’m sure of it, Honey. Maybe you can invite them over and I can get to know them. Think about it, no pressure of course.” (Y/N) nods to indicate that she heard him.

Not long later they enter the bullpen. “There she is! My little Hotchner! How you doing, Baby?” Derek asks her and envelopes her into a hug. But she only shrugs her shoulders. This goes on for the rest of the day. Whenever anyone talks to her, the only answer is given by her body language.

Hotch watches helplessly Spencer trying to engage in a conversation with her. His arms and hands are waving around. (Y/N) though just looks at him without being really there mentally. It seems like she is lost in her own thoughts, like it happened so often over the last few months.

“Have you tried talking to her about it?” Dave asks, sitting down on the chair opposite of him. Aaron looks at him funny. “Of course. But (Y/N) is just not ready to talk about Haley and everybody grieves differently. I can’t force her to speak, Dave.”

The older agent leans back in his seat. “I don’t think she needs to talk about her. This probably is too soon. She needs to talk about you. The changes.” After a short pause, in which the other one still doesn’t get the point, Rossi continues. “That little girl just lost her mother. She is scared to lose her father, the one with the high risk job. I think that is enough to talk about.”

This occupies the agent for the remainder of the day. Aaron was so invested in fulfilling both parent roles, that he forgot that he is just a father. The man his children go to when they have a nightmare. The one, who is more lenient than their mother. He can’t be both ones. He can’t be two people in one.

A kid trusts a mother and a father usually. And he can’t be mother and father at once. Hotch has to accept the fact. The fact that (Y/N) and Jack are going to grow up without a mother. But luckily not without mother figures.

Later that day, after tucking Jack in, Aaron knocks on his daughter’s door. A small “Come in!” echoes back to him. He enters her room and spots (Y/N) already in her bed reading a book Spencer gave her today.

“Hey, do you have time before it’s lights out?” He asks, still wanting to give her the upper hand on this. The girl nods and scoots over for her father to take a place. He lays next to her, pulling his daughter into a hug.

“I know I can’t promise it. Coming back to you every time. You know it as much as I do. But I promise you to try anything and everything in the books. You guys keep me going.” Tears roll over both of their faces.

“I-I just”, (Y/N) moves her head onto his chest to sob into it, “Just don’t wanna lose you, too. I-I don’t think I-I can’t be the girl, who doesn’t have a mother AND a father. C-can you stop that from happening?” Hotch has to wipe his eyes before answering.

“I-I try to keep that from happening, Honey. I promise.”

This is how they fall asleep, squished in a twin bed close to each other. In the morning they both are overheated and got a visitor during the night. Jack wakes them up, asking why they had a sleepover without him.

This morning is the first time Aaron sees (Y/N) smiles since day zero.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

Olena Zelenska (CNN Interview)

Find the full interview here (second video on the website):

Summary (with some notes about touching moments in the video or clarifications):

Olena called the attack on the shopping mall "terrorism"

they're all still shocked about what happened & they're shocked again about what Russia is capable of → "I don't know what else the occupiers can shock us with"

"What is the morale 5 month into this war?": Olena says in the first weeks everyone was like sprinters, but now it's more like a marathon and everyone just tries to make it to finish line / hold on / everyone needs to calculate their strength → it's very difficult to hold on for 5 month; they can not see physically and mentally the end of their suffering → they need to accumalate / save their strength and energy → it's very difficult for all Ukrainians, hence why they try to find joy in simple things → everyone looks forward for this war to end ("they" in this answer is "Ukrainians", not only "First Family")

Olena was barely able to say "Goodbye" to Zelensky before he sent them away

she can now come back to Kyiv from time to time

(she smiles briefly as she starts talking about him) Olena can see him sometimes for a short time, but not very often → but at least can feel him "physically" next to her

it's not normal (= a normal time); it's not normal when children can't see their father and only talk over the phone with him → their relationship is "on pause" (she stops here and closes her eyes for a second), just as it is for many Ukrainians → half of the population is apart / separated → like every Ukrainian family they're waiting to be together again / be reuinted / spend evenings together / talk with the children about their things and other topics (she's touching her wedding ring while talking about this)

Olena likes the image that they're holding on like the cupboard in Borodinka → when they ask each other "How are you?", everyone replies with "Like that cupboard in Borodinka" - holding on

you can't hide the war from children and she's not hiding anything from her children → Kyrylo has access to informations and watches everything → she says on the one hand it's just a typical thing - a boy dreaming about heroic dees - about on the other hand it's really sad that Kyrylo grows up like this - that Ukrainians raise their children for war → they should be raised for peace / wanting them to see the future without war → everyone hopes that the military mode will change to a peaceful one and Kyrylo can imagine a life with peace

the mental health program: it's going to be a challenge to include the older generations since there is a lot of stigma

the programm is about getting help, diagnosing, assistance and minimizing the consequences of the war for society and persons

Olena tries to organize another First Ladies and Gentlemen Congress (like the one last year; she smiles when the reporter starts asking about this and thanks for the questions because the topic is important to her) - last years success was creating this professional union, for the first time ever in history → and since it's so special and important she wants to repeat it - this year maybe in a hybrid format → topic: the humans / human ressources / what can a person endure after such crisis

the reporter says that Olena not only has a "personal union" but also a professional one with her husband during his entertainment days (Olena smiles and looks down at her wedding ring) - reporter wants to know what Olena thinks about the speeches (Olena laughs and smiles): Olena clarifies that she's not a literary writer and worked on screenplays, but of course she understands how speech can be improved to reach out to people → Zelenskyy doesn't need help; he knows what to say and how to say it → sometimes, like everybody else, she's impressed (smiling) and thinks it was a very good idea → this way he's in touch with the Ukrainians and tells them what they need to know in order to remain calm, go to bed peacefully and have hope; they also see he's there / on-duty

[rocorambles]

Perfect

Pairing: Akaashi x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Toxic Relationships, Manipulation, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Forced Impregnation

Prompt: “I told you to stay still”

Summary: The perfect couple always has children. Multiple children. A full family. A house full of laughter and home-cooked meals. And you two are the epitome of a perfect couple. So why are you still so hesitant about taking the next big step?

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this spicy prompt. (Masterlist goes live Tuesday 6th October 11:00pm U.K. time!) 

Akaashi’s always been an overthinker. He can admit that. He knows it’s a flaw he’s always had and could never seem to shake off. But just because he realizes it doesn’t mean he does anything about it. And the overwhelming pressure he places on himself in everything he does only fuels the suffocating thoughts until they’re screaming in his head. Unfortunately for you, his sweet darling wife, that only means terrible things for you and suddenly every move you make is alarming, every word you say is suspicious, every breath you take painstakingly monitored. 

Akaashi just wants to be the perfect husband, the perfect lover, the perfect provider. He wants the two of you to be the perfect happily married couple, to live the perfect domestic life. So after years of playing house, of devoting all his attention and love on you, of spoiling you rotten with everything you could possibly want, when you tell him you aren’t ready to have children yet, he feels his cool facade slip and the incessant thoughts begin to drown him. 

The perfect couple always has children. Multiple children. A full family. A house full of laughter and home-cooked meals. And you two are the epitome of a perfect couple. So why are you still so hesitant about taking the next big step? Are you tired of him? Do you not want to have kids with him? Are you planning on leaving him? 

You nervously shift from foot to foot, intimidated by the chaos you see in blue eyes and you tentatively reach out to your husband, trying to understand what’s wrong, but you sigh in relief as he jolts at your touch, staring blankly at you before setting his face back to its usual serene countenance, slightly smiling at you as he nods in understanding and affectionately kisses your forehead. This is the Akaashi you’d fallen in love with and you happily sigh as you wrap your arms around his waist, letting yourself be rocked in his arms in a warm embrace, ignorant of how his face hardens as soon as his chin is tucked above your head, eyes thoughtful, mind scheming. 

It takes some coaxing, some patient conversations during your most vulnerable moments when you were still groggily rubbing the sleep out of your eyes or yawning as you lay your head on the pillow to sleep at night, but he finally gets his answers and he smiles in endearment as you worry about whether or not you’re ready to be a mom. Would you even be a good mom? Oh. He’s sure you’re going to be the perfect mother and he makes a mental note to prove that to you until you see it for yourself, but he’s grateful for the darkness that hides his grimace when you go on to talk about how you also want to focus on your career for now. It’s not that Akaashi is against women working. He doesn’t hate how happy and fulfilled you feel as you ramble on and on about work, about your coworkers, about your salary and title. He just thinks you’d be even more perfect as his pretty little housewife and he quietly plans and strategizes as your breathing gets heavier and heavier until you’re fast asleep besides him on your shared bed. 

He waits until your chest rises and falls in even rhythms before reaching over for your phone. You’ve always been so trusting, probably too trusting of him, but that works in his favor now as he flawlessly types in your password and dives into your alarms and work emails. A swipe there, a deletion here. He meticulously combs through your phone turning off your alarms, deleting important meetings, getting rid of urgent emails waiting for your response before he quietly places your phone on the nightside table by you, pleased with his work and he closes his own eyes, a small smile on his face as he peacefully sleeps. 

Luckily, he leaves for work much earlier than you, so he’s out the door before you can even realize the messy day you’re about to have and he can’t be blamed for not waking you up when your alarm doesn’t go off. He patiently waits and waits, glancing at his phone every now and then, waiting for the onslaught of panicked and distressing texts he knows you’ll send his way as your day gets progressively worse and worse. And sure enough, his phone vibrates over and over again as you send a flurry of texts steeped in negative emotions and like the perfect husband he is, he sends the consoling and comforting notes you need. And when you call, crying and sobbing about being yelled at, about how awful at your job you are, he’s there to soothe you. 

“Don’t cry, love. It’s not your fault. You’re an amazing woman. Maybe this just isn’t the right job for you or the right company for you.” 

He plants the seeds of doubt in your mind and you let them be watered by the sweet suggestions he sprinkles on you. And with just a few more flicks of his wrist in the middle of the night when you’re asleep, ignorant of your phone being used without your knowledge, and a little bit of time, you’re finally fired and he’s there, rushing back home to wrap you in his arms. But he smiles when instead of being distraught, you merely sit there quietly as you tuck yourself against him. 

“Maybe this just wasn’t the right job for me, Keiji.”

He encourages you to take some time off from the workforce. You had worked so hard for so long. You deserve a break. And you mindlessly nod along to his silky voice. Relaxing does sound nice. You had thrown yourself into your job so much that you’d forgotten what it was like to have so much free time and you begin to excitedly ponder what hobbies you could pick up to fill the days, what projects around the house you could finally get done.    

Akaashi sighs when his alarm goes off the next morning, but he sits up in confusion when the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air and he blearily turns to your side of the bed, freezing when he finds it empty. But his groggy mind begins to put two and two together and he rushes towards the kitchen where he feels like his heart might burst at the sight of you humming, an apron daintily wrapped around you as you pour a generous amount of dark caffeine in his favorite mug. And he can’t stop himself from closing the distance between you as he tenderly wraps you in his arms, turning you around until you’re face to face as he captures your lips in a good morning kiss. He wants every morning to be like this, he thinks, as he mentally captures the image of you smiling and waving goodbye to him from the apartment door. The perfect loving wife seeing her husband off.

You spend your long days at home tidying up the house, decorating spaces in the house you’d always wanted to spruce up but never had time to before, spending hours in the kitchen cooking and baking everything you’d always wanted to try. It’s nice to fall into a domestic rhythm with Akaashi and work is far from your mind as you cheerily greet your husband when he comes home, as the two of you pleasantly chat while he eats the piping hot delicious meal you’ve prepared for him, as he hand feeds you the brownies you had made as the two of you sit on the couch and watch a show together.

But as time goes on, you find yourself twiddling your thumbs a bit with just a little too much idle time on your hand now that the interior of the apartment is exactly up to your dream standards of cleanliness and decor. And you can’t help but wonder how nice it would be to have a small child running about the place, keeping you company while Akaashi is away at work. You freeze when the thought crosses your mind and your brows furrow in confusion. Where had that thought come from? You’d never wanted kids before. And yet...You quickly shove that fleeting idea to the back of your mind as you refold laundry that had already been handled, throwing yourself into anything that could distract you from the strange desires plaguing your mind. 

Little do you know how much Akaashi has influenced you in the time you’ve been stuck at home. Little do you know that the daily evening walks he takes you on after dinner are always purposefully done around the nearby children parks. Little do you know that the little comments and remarks he makes about how adorable that child is, how silly this child is aren’t as offhand as you think. They’re strategically strung together words just for you and he slightly smiles when he sees them weaving through your mind as your eyes soften and a longing smile begins to tug at your lips when you turn to look at what he’s talking about. Little do you know that it’s no accident when the two of you go shopping and find yourselves passing aisles of children’s toys and clothing. And Akaashi feels his chest tighten with affection when you unconsciously skim your fingers over the tiny shoes and onesies, asking him for his opinions. 

“Aren’t these cute, Keiji?” 

And he nods his head as he reaches down to hold your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours as you continue perusing. 

He knows he almost has you right where he wants you. He can almost see the cogs turning in your head, see you imagining a life with him and a family...your own little family. It’s time for the final step and he secretly keeps tabs on the convenient period tracking app you have on your phone waiting and waiting until your next ovulation period and when it comes, you squeal in surprise when he impatiently whisks you off to your shared bedroom and presses you down onto the bed as soon as he steps into the house after work. 

His movements are so hurried, so rough, so unlike how Akaashi normally is, but you eagerly reciprocate, excited to see this side of your husband and you’re a moaning, writhing mess as he bites and sucks every inch of your skin, a trail of red skin following in his wake as he marks up your neck, collarbones, and breasts. You’re already dripping wet by the time he finally reaches down to rub your clit and slip his fingers inside of you and your hips buck up into his touch, urging him for more. Your head is swirling with lust and you whine when he briefly slips away to guide the tip of his cock against your leaking hole and you shudder in desire when you feel him running his tip along your slit. But even in your dazed state, you feel yourself hesitate a bit when you see that he isn’t using a condom. 

“Keiji, I’m ovulating. You need to use a cond- AH!”

You’re cut off as he slides his cock inside of you, your slick walls greedily sucking him in with little resistance and you try to muster up the words to repeat yourself, but you can’t articulate anything as he leans down to suck a perky nipple as he begins to thrust in and out of you in a sensual, but thorough pattern, making sure you can feel every inch of him rubbing against your clenching walls, making sure you can feel him sink balls deep inside of him, making sure you can feel him stimulate the spongy spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. And you give up, trusting that he’d at least pull out before he cums, and you lose yourself to the feeling of being so used and filled, feeling the coil in your stomach grow tighter and tighter, and when blue eyes gaze down at you and he hungrily leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, you fall over the edge, your pleasured wails swallowed by your husband’s lips as he chases his own end. 

You lay there in mind numbing bliss as he continues to sink in and out of your tight heat, letting out little mewls of overstimulation, but when you feel the erratic rhythm of his thrusts and you see the telltale look on his face as he closes his eyes that indicate he’s close and he makes no attempt to pull out, you weakly shake his shoulders, squirming and wriggling your body from underneath him as you try to pull away. 

“K-Keiji, NGH you can cum on me. Okay? AH B-but, you can’t cum inside me.” 

You scream when large hands roughly grab your waist in a bruising grip and forcefully pull you down until he’s fully inside you once again. 

“Stay still.” 

You whimper, trying to be good for him, but anxiety is beginning to cloud your pleasure and you struggle once again, pleading with him and telling him you don’t want to get pregnant. But you keen when that only spurs him on to fuck you rougher, harder, deeper and your eyes roll back as you try to register the almost painful overstimulation you’re going through. 

“I told you to stay still.” 

And this time you do stay still, unable to do anything else but lay there like a good obedient wife as he pistons in and out of you, your mouth open in a persistent silent scream as your hands desperately scramble to find purchase in the rumpled bed sheets and you brokenly moan when he finally shoves inside of you with one final thrust and your stomach feels hot as spurts of liquid spill inside of you.

You’re in shock as he stays buried inside of you, trapping your body with his as he lays down on top of you, nuzzling and kissing the crook of your neck as he keeps his cum inside of you and you’re not sure how much time passes as you just lay there, mind blank as you try to come to terms with what had just happened. But when you feel his cock begin to twitch and harden inside of you once more, you frantically try to push him away from you, try to separate yourself from him. 

“Keiji, stop it! I need to go get Plan B or something. I-” 

Your mind is a chaotic swirl as you try to figure out next steps to avoid this unwanted pregnancy and you think you might throw up at the idea of being pregnant, having a child, all so suddenly, so fast. 

You’re not ready. You’re not ready. You’re not ready. 

Your thoughts are shattered to pieces when you’re shoved back down onto the mattress and you loudly wail when Akaashi begins an unforgiving pace once again, brutally slamming his hips into yours, his cum acting as lubrication, making it easier for him to plow into you and take you over and over again. And the last coherent thought you have is that you were such a fool to not realize just how much stronger, how much larger Akaashi is compared to you as your attempts to shake him off are easily ignored by the man above you. 

You don’t know how much time has passed. It feels like an eternity and you’re not sure how you’re still conscious as Akaashi breeds you over and over again. Your mouth is open in a persistent silent scream, your eyes are rolled so far back in your head you can barely see, tears and drool mar your face. Everything feels so good, too good, and you can’t stop sobbing from the overwhelming pleasure you feel as Akaashi keeps on spilling load after load of sticky white liquid inside of you and you curl into Akaashi’s body instinctively for comfort when he sinks down on top of you, exhaustion finally catching up with him. And the two of you just lay there, chests heaving as you both heavily pant, his flaccid cock still buried inside of you, plugging his cum inside of you. And even though you want to yell at him, to be angry at him for forcing this on you, you’re so spent, head empty of anything except for Akaashi that you let yourself be maneuvered until you’re both on your sides, facing each other, your lower bodies still intimately connected. 

You let out a little whimper when you feel a large hand gently stroke your cum-filled stomach, but you can feel your face and body grow hot when his other hand gently nudges your chin up to look at him and you see the look of pure love and adoration in his eyes. 

“You’re going to look so beautiful with your belly bulging with my children, our children.” 

You let out a breathy gasp when he teasingly fondles one of your pebbled nipples and palms your fleshy mound. 

“You’re going to look so beautiful when these swell up with milk. I wonder if our children would be willing to share some with their father.” 

Sweet word after word spills from his lips and you listlessly lay there listening to him go on and on, painting a picture of what your future lives together would look like, and before you can catch yourself from falling deeper into his trap, your mind betrays you and images flash across your vision and you unconsciously draw even nearer to Akaashi, cuddling into his body affectionately as picture perfect scenes of you braiding a little girl’s hair while Akaashi teaches a little boy how to play volleyball flicker across your imagination. And when Akaashi feels you gently place your hand on top of his hand that’s still cradling your stomach practically sloshing with the amount of liquid he’s gifted you with tonight, he knows he’s got you hook, line, and sinker. 

That night the two of you fall asleep, dreaming about the perfect life you’re going to have together.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Pregnant!Female!Reader) pt. 14

Hannibal reads too much into Max's attempt to reconcile and cult girl revisits her past.

@wisesandwichshark @pearlstiare

Trigger warnings: discussions of death, abandonment, military casualties, emotional abuse

You soon returned to the opera knowing you had nothing to hide. Hannibal selected for you an off-white maternity gown so form-fitting it was practically painted on. He wanted everyone to see that you, his queen, empress and goddess, were carrying his child.

It only took that evening for the whole dynamic to change. Suddenly, you were an expectant new mother. Imogen had been a massive hit, you were planning to go again.

You were affixing your heavy cubic zirconia earrings when you heard a knock at the door. You hesitated, but hurried down the stairs when you saw who it was.

"Max?" You said, upon opening the door. He stood there awkwardly, holding a bouquet of flowers. "Hi?"

"Hey, [F/N]." Max greeted, eyes darting nervously around the porch. "I just came around to apologize in person. I'm sorry I was such a chauvinist prick."

You leaned against the door. "Oh?"

"You were right." He continued. "I don't know what it's like to carry a baby, and, unless something goes very wrong, I never will."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." You smiled.

"Anyway, these are for you." He said, handing the bouquet over. "They're chrysanthemums."

"Thank you, Max." You said, accepting the flowers.

"Archie and I-" He scratched the back of his head. "We thought that, maybe, if you'd still have us, that we'd name the baby Chrysanthemum. With your permission, of course."

"Like the picture book?" Your face lit up. "With the little mouse girl?"

Max nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, exactly."

You hugged the bouquet into your chest and considered it again. You looked back at Hannibal, who hadn't looked up from his expectant fathers' website for a second all day. He surrounded himself with books about child psychology, attachment theory, developmental behavior patterns and somehow found himself on a tangent about institutionalized misogyny in medicine.

"I'm sorry, Max." You said, sincerely. "I really do appreciate you coming down here and apologizing, but-"

Max put his hands up and gave you a disarming smile. "I understand. Plans change."

"I just really want to stress that it's not you." You assured him. "I've kind of... really grown to like the idea of being a parent. And I think that was Hannibal's plan all along, too."

"I believe a congratulations is in order, then." His voice turned up in delight. "I'm very happy for you. Both of you."

You clutched the bouquet to your chest. "Thank you."

"Well, I'd better get going." He stepped backwards down the stairs. "I've got three pints of Ben and Jerry's in the backseat and Archie'll have my head if I come home and they've melted."

"Max, wait." You stopped him before he could get down the driveway.

"Hm?"

You leaned against the threshold and smiled warmly. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

Max returned the smile. "Of course not."

You waved goodbye and shut the door. You hurried to the kitchen to put the flowers in water before you had to go.

"Who was that, love?" Hannibal asked, half-heartedly. He was still very fixated on his research.

"Max Thomas-Park." You answered, unwrapping the flowers from the decorative plastic.

Hannibal looked up from his computer, but left the room silent for you to fill.

"He wanted to make amends." You explained. You walked across the room to the china cabinet and selected a vase big enough to hold the ornate bouquet. "Brought flowers and everything."

"Chrysanthemums?" He asked, sniffing the air.

"I see your sense of smell is coming back." You commented.

"Interesting selection." He narrowed his eyes on the bouquet.

"Well, he said that was what he wanted to name the kid." You offered. "It was a cute pitch, not gonna lie."

Hannibal shut his laptop and examined the bouquet up close. "If he wanted to express regret, he would have done better to bring you blue or purple hyacinths."

"Well, like I said." You made a point to project a little more. "He said he wanted to name his daughter chrysanthemum."

"Mums are given to show sympathy for those in mourning." Hannibal continued, clearly having his own conversation.

"Hannibal-"

"I think your cousin got her hooks in him and he's planning to--" He cut himself off, lest he speak the unthinkable into reality. "That's why he brought mourning flowers."

"Max Thomas-Park is conspiring with Anna to kill our unborn baby?" You said, flatly, to emphasize how insane he sounded.

Hannibal held a bloom between his fingers and looked closely at it. "It's the kind of hint I would leave. For courtesy's sake."

"I think looking at parenting blogs all day has made you a little paranoid." You observed, knowing full well that an overprotective husband and soon-to-be father of your child was not a bad problem to have. Nevertheless, you shut the laptop and touched his cheek. "Come on. We're going to be late for the opera."

You heaved yourself into the passenger's seat of the car, feeling the seat give beneath your heavy frame. Every time you got into the car, you remembered that you needed to shop for a car seat. The thought just as soon left your mind every time. 

“We need to look for a car seat.” You said as Hannibal shut the door, hoping that he’d remember. 

“I mean,” Hannibal blurted out, still lost in his own conversation. “Max is a cultured and well-educated man. He has to know the implications of his flowers.” 

You huffed, dreading to think that paranoid delusion was symptomatic of his parenting style. “Right. The twenty-seven year old data analyst who graduated with a finance MBA from UChicago is also proficient in the outdated and frivolous language of flowers.” 

“In Italy, mums are only given as comfort for loss.” Hannibal said with undeserved conviction. “Exclusively, [F/N].” 

You rolled your eyes and typed something up on your phone. You raised your eyebrows, feeling a bit proud of yourself for what you found. 

“In Korea, y’know, the country that Max’s family is from,” You corrected. “The chrysanthemum is a symbol of friendship.” 

Hannibal tensed up for a moment, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. It was as if he were trying to break himself out of a trance. “...I’m sorry, darling.” 

“I know you’re scared.” You stared at his profile, trying to make out an expression. “I’m also... pretty scared. But you can’t take it out on a guy who has nothing to do with it.” 

“I am scared.” He affirmed, but the way in which he did was a telltale sign that he wasn’t giving you the full story. 

“Of?” You raised your eyebrow. “Finish the sentence, Hannibal.” 

"I need to keep our baby safe." He answered. "And I cannot in good conscience let her come into the world knowing that someone wants to hurt her. To hurt you."

You sighed. "Hannibal, are you seriously still worried about Anna?"

"Don't underestimate the role privilege and entitlement plays in the decision to commit acts of violence." He enunciated carefully. "You of all people should know that."

"Anna has cultivated such a perfect victim image to project outwardly that even a hint of proactive violence would shatter it." You explained. "She's the poor girl who has things done to her. Her evil cousin ruined her marriage. Her evil cousin destroyed her career. And she's the innocent victim in all of it."

"Logically, I know that you can speak on her behavior with more authority than I." Hannibal admitted.

"No shit." You scoffed. "I had to live with her."

"Can we at least entertain the idea that she has something planned?" He pleaded.

"I'm surprised at you." You said. "You never really struck me as the overly-cautious type."

Hannibal shook his head. "With my own life, I'm willing to gamble. But not when it's you. And not when it's Imogen."

You tensed up. His admitted willingness to put himself in danger unlocked a core memory you had buried deep down. The only thing you knew about your own father was that he was willing to put himself in danger. To go overseas and die for fuck-all instead of live for the child he selfishly created then abandoned. He chose to give his life for oil. You didn't choose to grow up without a father and your mother didn't choose to raise a child without a partner. He made that choice for you.

"Now what are you not telling me?" Hannibal broke you out of your trance. "I know that look, [F/N]."

"Nothing." You shook your head. "You should really not plan on dying anytime soon."

"I promise you, I am not going anywhere." His voice softened. "Least of all, to Iraq."

"Okay, you're a pretty good therapist but you never told me you could read minds." You threw your hands up in defeat. "Are you a psychiatrist or are you Loki?"

"As fun as being the god of mischief would be," Hannibal smiled to himself. "I just happen to have a steel-trap memory and an admittedly quite obsessive fixation on the mental health of the mother of my child."

"I swear to god I never told you about him." You denied. "Not even in passing."

"You didn't have to." He assured you. "Beatrice did."

You were surprised for a fraction of a second until the information sat in your head long enough to realize it wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Beatrice took every opportunity she got to brag about her son's sacrifices. She never once mentioned the sacrifices he forced upon you. Only that her son was a hero.

"Did you get the 'don't believe anything [F/N] has to say about my son' speech?" Your voice flattened in complete non-surprise.

"It was a prepared speech?" Hannibal chuckled. "Pity. I thought I was special."

"She gave it to my first boyfriend." You rolled your eyes. "We were, like, fifteen."

"The root of your psychological issues becomes clearer every time we talk about Beatrice." He commented under his breath.

"I know." You conceded.

He pulled into the parking lot, turned the car off and placed his hand over yours.

"Your father was a coward." He said, bluntly. It was nice to hear what had been echoing in the back of your head out loud for once. "I know no country to serve. No god to glorify. I promise, you have the whole of me. My mind, body and soul belongs to you and our child."

You squeezed his hand. "I couldn't ask for anything else."

[ilyrafe]

𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒚 ✧ 𝒄𝒉 𝑽

pairing: charles brandon x duchess!reader

warnings: angst, a brief panic attack, forced kiss.

word count: 3,2k

taglist: @runawayolives​​ @kmuir1​​ @marytudorbrandon​​ @lharrietg​​ @shittingdicknipple​​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​​ @mis-lil-red​ @amberangel112​​ @ohmygoodie @itmejado​​ @radaofrivia​​ @scarlets-widow​​ @ragamuffin285​​​ @thereisa8ella​​​ @​​titty-teetee @dropletsofkaisoo​

a/n: shit goes down from now on just saying..........

redamancy masterlist | main masterlist

his guilt and conscience do not allow him to fall asleep and rest in his bed. if he wants to be civil and reciprocally, he needs to recognize when he is in the wrong and apologize. she didn’t do anything wrong, he shouldn’t have set such high expectations.

he puts on his robe and goes to the duchess’s chambers. strangely, he thinks it is a good thing that her room is far from his, just so he has time to think of the right words. it’s not the first time he’s been intimidated in her presence, and stuttering in front of her seems pathetic.

he takes a deep breath and knocks three times on the door. to his surprise, beatrice answers the door. 

“your grace.” she bows to the duke.

as he steps into her room, he smells roses and cinnamon, a different combination of scents, but just as pleasant. he can’t help but look into the duchess’s main environment, which is lit by candles in certain places. there are books everywhere and flowers from the garden that he recognizes. her dressing table has few items, just a small jewelry box, a brush, and a few hairpins, but her desk has lots of papers and a small leather-bound notebook that looks like a diary. being the curious creature he is, he’s already starting to wonder if she writes about him.

“charles?” y/n’s voice calls out to him, and she looks a little confused as to why he’s in her room in his nightwear.

she runs to put on her robe, even though charles saw her more exposed than usual. sensing her presence is no longer needed, beatrice excuses herself and leaves the duke and the duchess alone. charles mentally thanks the young woman as she leaves, because privacy is what he wants the most right now.

“i owe you an apology.” he starts. “i admit i should not have been rude to you at dinner, i hope you will forgive me. it will not happen again.”

once again, she can hear the sincerity in his voice. perhaps the image she has of charles is twisted. what if she is wrong about him?

“i owe you an apology, too.” she admits.

“what for?”

“for the way i have been treating, or mistreating you these past months.”

seeing her in a position of vulnerability is nearly shocking. it’s not even that much exposure from her, but charles sees her as a tough person, and hearing her words comforts him, because just like her, he feels sincerity and honesty in her apology. more than anyone else, he knows how hard it is to admit when you are in the wrong.

“oh, do not worry. you have your reasons and i understand.”

“even so, i shouldn’t have been such a monster to you.”

“it is all in the past.”

a small smile appears on her lips. apparently a white flag indicating a truce had been raised. charles says goodbye and goes back to his room, no longer feeling the pain in his back as he is always tense in the presence of y/n. his shoulders are relaxed as is his posture. with a smile on his face, charles goes back to his bed and for the first time since he got married, he sleeps peacefully.

(...)

a few weeks have passed, the eighteenth birthday of king henry’s new wife, katherine howard, approaches. the friendship between y/n and charles just blossoms, which makes the duke happier. conversations over dinner gradually linger, and making her laugh is almost a duty he gives to himself. it’s the most pleasant sound, and he finds it adorable when she covers her mouth when she laughs a little louder than usual.

they have a quite a lot in common. contrary to what she assumed, charles is far from arrogant. in fact, he doesn’t seem so fond of so many formalities. the way he talks about his parents, who are sadly deceased, is a little disheartening. he seems to need approval from others constantly, something she can relate to.

little by little, y/n manages to humanize in her own head the man behind the broad, strong body that charles has. there’s a sweetness in his blue eyes that she has been allowing herself to notice.

it’s difficult to get more information about her, though. y/n is very reserved and still prefers to spend most of her time by herself, which bothers him a little, and he still notices a little sadness in her eyes. he’s almost positive that something still disturbs her and he tries to make her feel comfortable enough to open up, but all of his attempts have failed.

give time to time, he keeps reminding himself.

(...)

the birthday party is grand, something the court and guests await. king henry always goes out of his way to show off to his subjects. the royal castle is a dream of gold, the most expensive flowers are everywhere, only the best food is being served, and the guests wear their most sophisticated attire. the king is ecstatic over his sixth wife, he will never spare any effort to make her happy.

the carriages keep arriving and more and more people enter the king’s castle. in one of them is charles and y/n, and both are as well dressed as the others in the royal court. y/n’s dress is stunning, and it’s completely different from the ones she’s ever worn in public. its rich emerald tone compliments her entirely, and the pearls in her hair soften her youthful appearance. charles is as well groomed as she is, but he opted for a monochromatic black attire, which makes him look even more imposing. regardless, they look complementary to each other.

“do not be surprised if male attention is focused on you.” he comments with a subtle laugh.

her puzzled expression cheers him a bit. he knows what is said about him and his wife, both the nasty comments and the most lustful ones.

he helps her down from the carriage and, with arms entwined, they enter the royal castle. as they are announced, all eyes turn to the couple. the king, upon seeing his longtime friend, goes to meet him with a proud smile on his face. the duchess’s distaste for the king is clear, but she knows how to hide it, for the sake of etiquette. after greeting each other briefly, charles and y/n follow to the main table, where the king is reunited with his wife.

“oh, you must be y/n!” the queen cheerfully says, properly ditching said etiquette. “your dress is marvelous!”

“thank you, your majesty.” y/n smiles.

the bubbly nature of the queen is pleasant; even charles thinks she’s quite funny with her antics. the age gap between her and the king is quite alarming, but she seems to be what holds him down a bit.

the music is loud, and the guests are all over the ballroom, either dancing or talking. for some reason, y/n feels unquiet. maybe it’s the heat, the loud noises or the constant glares she gets from other women. they don’t even try to hide when they’re obviously gossiping about her. she’s not entirely aware of her ‘fame’, but she knows she’s the subject of many conversations.

enthusiastically, the king taps his cup with silverware, drawing the attention of all the guests.

“first of all, i want to thank you all for coming to my beloved wife’s birthday, your majesty, the queen.” he says and hears applause for the sweet queen katherine. “happy birthday, my love. may the next few years of your life be as beautiful as you are.”

katherine blows her husband a kiss and he raises his wineglass to the guests. everyone raises their glasses and takes a sip, celebrating the queen’s life.

“i wonder how long this marriage is going to last…” charles comments under his breath, only y/n is able to hear, and she chuckles in response.

“i give it a year.”

they exchange a look, and when the music starts to play again, a few of the guests begin to dance in pairs.

“would you grant me a dance?” he asks.

as she looks around, she sees that her attention is focused on the king and queen. a dance won’t do any harm, she thinks.

“of course.”

he takes her to the center of the room by her hand, and soon they stand opposite each other to dance. if his memory serves him, he’s never been this close to her, and he takes this moment as an opportunity to really get a closer look, maybe he notices a new detail on her beautiful face? if he could, he’d spend hours memorizing every detail of y/n, because she’s so stunning, and with every observation she makes—of any subject—she becomes the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

y/n, however, is fighting all of her instincts. she doesn’t quite allow herself to look at charles. even though they are in a peaceful territory, he’s still the man who has been with her friends, he’s still the man who accepted her father’s offer to marry her in exchange for a mere position at the court. she’s certainly noticed his looks, and can’t deny that he isn’t as awful as she made herself to believe, and now she knows he’s an excellent dancer.

he guides her so masterfully and firmly, she feels safe, even though she isn’t very fond of dancing. regardless, he makes it feel pleasant. his eyes doesn’t leave hers for a second, but she looks around every now and then.

that’s when she sees a very familiar face, amidst all these people. one she would recognize anywhere, but the spin of the dance makes her lose sight of the person.

“is everything alright?” charles asks.

“yes…” she replies, toneless.

the dance continues, faster now. small heels mark the final part of the dance, and the noise of several shoes on the floor makes her uncomfortable. who is that person? the rhythm of the music picks up, people are talking loudly, the dance gets more energetic, and all she wants is to recognize that face. it can’t be.

she keeps searching for that face, but there are so many people in that ballroom, it’s pointless. the dance is making her feel a bit nauseous, she even contemplates leaving charles on the dance floor by himself, but when he bows down to her, she realizes the dance is finally over.

finally!

when they return to the main table, henry calls them to introduce them to the duchess of jämtland. even from afar, y/n can see how different the duchess is. pale complexion, light, straight and fine hair, bright blue eyes. she can’t help but compare herself to her. beside the duchess is her husband.

james.

the face she had seen. it’s him.

“charles and y/n, i would like to introduce you to my friends from sweden, your grace annika and her husband, james.” king henry says.

with each step she takes, y/n’s body freezes more and more, her heart beats faster and faster, and her breathing gets shorter and shorter. james is not at all shocked, more like afraid. only he knows the reason for the terror on y/n’s face at that moment, as much as she tries to hide it, he knows her better than anyone else in that room. she cannot move a single finger to greet the duchess and her husband.

“it’s a pleasure to meet you, your grace.” charles says to annika and kisses the back of her hand.

when he turns his attention to james, y/n feels like fainting. as if her two worlds are about to collide.

“this is my longtime friend, charles, the duke of suffolk and his wife, y/n, his duchess.” henry says.

“it is an honor to meet you, your grace.” james says, repeating the same gesture as charles, but now with the woman he once promised to love forever.

y/n is unable to move throughout the entire greeting process, and the situation only gets worse when she notices the annika’s subtle bump, which she doesn’t seem to hide that she is pregnant, as she takes her belly in with her hands.

“they are here to visit my kingdom and james is possibly going to war with us. sweden is our partner against france.” henry informs charles, completely unaware of the history between james and y/n.

“my apologies,” y/n speaks, trying to regain herself. “i’m not-”

“would your grace grant me a dance?” james interrupts.

he looks at charles with a silent request, and the duke looks at his wife.

“she doesn’t require my permission.” charles explains.

“ah, of course! a dance! charles, take annika to dance, james, you take y/n to dance. let’s all dance!” the king shouts, clearly a little inebriated.

everyone gathers in the center of the room and starts dancing.  y/n’s hands are shaky and a bit sweaty, and james tries to soothe her with his gaze. he tries to apologize, but knows she will never forgive him. after everything that happened between them… it’s almost impossible to believe it.

“i can explain.” he mumbles.

“don’t.” she simply says.

her odd behavior hasn’t gone unnoticed, though. charles has never seen her so pale before, almost as if she’d seen a ghost. he glances at them, and he knows she’s on the verge of tears. he isn’t dumb — it takes charles less than a few minutes to realize that james is the man y/n claimed to love, months ago. the way they’re looking at each other is more than enough proof.

“y/n, please.”

“she is with child.” y/n’s voice trembles with her own affirmation.

james is heartbroken, more than he was when they saw each other for the last time, over a year ago.

“we can still be together.”

his speech outrages her, and she is forced to withdraw. she runs as fast as she can to the large and vast garden of the castle, and hopes that no one will find her, but charles and james have gone after her, and a small commotion is caused in the hall, which is quickly contained. the poor swedish duchess is left confused.

she feels that the walls are getting tighter and tighter, or maybe it’s the dress that is too tight on her body that doesn’t let her breathe.

breathe.

breathe, y/n.

only when she manages to get out of the castle and into the huge garden is it possible to hear the silence and breathe fresh air, no matter how cold it is. it’s behind a big tree that she finally stops running. her chest is tight, beating faster than ever. it’s all so disappointing and confusing, she just wants it to be over.

she thought she had experienced pain before, but now it’s different. a mixture of hatred and disappointment washes over her like a wave, and she reduces herself to tears. the more she thinks about it, more tears roll down her face and her heart feels tighter.

she hears footsteps approaching, and to her surprise, james finds her. he looks just as haunted as she is, and he’s panting from running so fast to find her.

“my love-”

“no!” she protests. “you betrayed me, james! how could you?!”

“y/n, please…”

“how dare you?!” she inquires through her teeth, not even able to hide her anger. “how dare you come to me with a wife? with a pregnant wife?!”

“you must listen to me, y/n.” he says as he grabs her by her shoulders and forcing her to look at his eyes. “i could not get to you if i did not marry someone... important. i did this for you, my love.”

he pulls her against him and kisses her forcefully, but y/n manages to punch him in the chest and break free of his embrace. she pushes him away and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand harshly.

“don’t you dare touch me.” she barks through gritted teeth, her voice is full of rage. “you went to bed with her for me? how fucking stupid do you think i am, james? don’t you know me at all?!”

unbeknownst to them, charles is near, watching the fight, prepared to attack him if need be, but from what he sees, y/n is able to fend for herself. there’s no doubt he is the man she told him about, and charles can’t deny his jealousy, not even to himself. he’s never seen y/n so heartbroken before, and all of his instincts are telling him to intervene.

“i still love you!” james claims desperately.

“i suggest you leave her alone.” charles says with the calmest tone to his voice.

y/n is only able to breathe when she sees the duke, because he brings her a sensation of security. she’s even able to breathe a little better.

“who do you think you are to talk to me with this tone?” james challenges. “i couldn’t care less if you are her husband, your grace,” he says with a mocking tone. “we all know this is an arrangement. she loves me.”

“i am trying to be peaceful for her sake, but if you insist on testing me, i’ll lose my composure and end you.” the duke threatens, and his tone is as cold as winter nights.

both men are now face to face, close to each other, and the possibility of the fight becoming physical makes her desperate, as the last thing she wants is a scandal.

“both of you, stop! now!” she exclaims as she pushes the two tall, strong men apart. she knows james, and he can certainly be scary. he’s a tall, built man with fighting skills, but it seems that charles is his elevated match. “i will not tolerate a scene.”

“he started it!” james barks.

“stop it!” y/n protests. she regains a bit of control over herself and wipes her tears with the back of her hands. “leave,” she pleads. “we have nothing else to talk about.”

“y/n-”

“james, please! i do not want to see you ever again.”

outraged, james does as she says and leaves, but not before pushing charles with his shoulder on his way out.

“did he hurt you?” charles asks as he cups her face in his hands. the scary look is no longer on his face, as he is now concerned. her teary eyes break him completely. she looks so broken and hopeless.

yes. deeply.

“please, i must go home.” she begs and sniffles, never before having felt so small. “please, i am begging you.”

“yes, absolutely.”

charles takes her in his arms and soothes her before they leave. for the first time, they’re in each other’s arms, and both of them feel complete somehow. in this very moment, charles represents the security she needs, and she is the equivalent of what is missing in his life. the comfort she finds in his embrace is something she didn’t even know could be real. not even in james’ arms she felt such care.

did james care for her at all?

the most heartbreaking thing is that she can feel her love for james turning into absolute hatred and it is terrifying.

“i am here for you, y/n.” charles whispers before placing a kiss on the top of her head.

---

feedback is always appreciated! 

[devilyn]

belated regrets | kuroo tetsurou

— alexa, play: remember me by umi

Cuz I'm getting older Know that I've changed But I can't go back now Nothing's the same And I won't forget how You called my name When I was afraid And now I'm afraid

— synopsis: after taking advantage of your friendship, what will kuroo do to win it back?  — genre: angst, friends to lovers if you squint — word count: 3.1k

This wasn't like you. You had stopped crying over Kuroo months ago. You stopped thinking about whether or not he had eaten yet, if he had gotten home safe, if he would text you goodnight, and yet here you were. You were crying again, after claiming you moved on and healed, and after telling all your friends that you would cut him out of your life.

You wish you blocked his number. It felt mean to do it back then, but you really wish you did, because now you definitely wouldn't be able to.

"I think we should take some time apart," were the words you whispered to him over the phone one night a few months back when he was telling you about some girl he had gotten close to in his chemistry lecture.

There was a painful silence that lasted over 15 long seconds. You'd never forget. You counted, after all.

"Why?" he asked quietly. "You're my best friend. What did I do wrong?"

Your 'friendship' had always been strange, after all. Everyone told you that, and even Kenma firmly believed that the two of you would end up dating eventually. But every time, Kuroo would laugh and ruffle your hair while proclaiming he would never date you.

And every time, you'd force a smile and agree with him.

"This friendship...just isn't what it used to be," you answered. It was true. Ever since the two of you got to college, things had changed. He met different people through his classes and bustling parties, and thus different girls that he'd ask you about. You manufactured his sweet texts to them, all while wishing he'd send them to you and feel just as nervous calling you late at night. You'd help guide him through the process of asking her out, then let him come over and be sad when he was rejected. 

Every aspect of your friendship became about him, him, and him. His academics were doing well--he was a surprisingly smart man after all--but they took a toll on him mentally, as they do to all college students. The same happened to you as well, but never once did Kuroo ask about how you were doing, how you were feeling, how you were coping with the sudden changes to your life.

You kept in contact with Kenma, who you'd text once in a while to tell him about how much you hated his previous captain. And Kenma would listen to you cry over the phone about his foolish childhood friend that knew nothing about your growing feelings for him. He was the only person who kept you grounded, and understood that your feelings for Kuroo couldn't be so easily tossed aside as the rest of your friends claimed. He also was the one who encouraged you to end your friendship with Kuroo gently, knowing that he would have to deal with the aftermath of Kuroo's confusion.

"Can I fix it somehow?" Kuroo asked in a panic, and you laughed bitterly. You had asked him many times to fix things--his treatment of you as if he were your therapist being the main one. He’d apologize, yet things would always end up returning to how they were before, with you being at the bottom on his list of priorities.

"Not anymore," your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat to pretend like you weren't crying. "I think you'll be fine without me."

“Y/N--”

“Don’t call me from now on, please. Don’t come over, because I won’t answer the door,” you paused. “...you’re still going to be my friend. I just need space.”

A lie. You knew it, and Kenma did too when you rehearsed your lines to him. He told you such, but you couldn’t bear to tell Kuroo the truth.

And even as you hung up, deep down, you wished he would disobey your wishes. You wanted him to text you and come to his senses, realizing he was wrong. You wanted to relive late night calls where you would laugh and talk about absolutely nothing just because you couldn’t fall asleep. You wanted to go back to him showing up at your front door with a bucket of fried chicken to reward you for studying hard for your midterm exams. You wanted to lay next to him on a grassy field again, where he was gazing up at the stars and you were mesmerized by how beautiful your best friend was, inside and out.

But Kuroo never called. You no longer sent him good morning texts, asking how his day was, and he stopped asking for your advice. It was like the two of you were less than friends. You’d only speak when you sent him an occasional meme that reminded you of him, or a song you knew he would enjoy. He’d respond earnestly, as if your friendship of over four years wasn’t shattered during that one call months ago.

Kenma called you an idiot for not cutting him off entirely, and you would have to agree with him. You were an idiot who was head over heels for a man who would never share your feelings.

It took months for you to get over it, but the distance you put between the two of you definitely helped. So why was it, all of a sudden, after you were finally healing and moving on, that Kuroo decided to call you out of nowhere?

You stared at your buzzing phone, the image of a stupid face Kuroo made flashing on your screen. 

Should you pick up? Should you pretend like you didn’t see his call? During your time contemplating, his photo faded away and your phone stopped vibrating angrily against your coffee table. 

Your heart felt like it was going to beat through your chest when you saw the ‘one missed call’ notification flicker mockingly at you. You stared at your phone, breath hitching in your throat when suddenly, you received a new text from none other than Kuroo Tetsurou himself.

“Fuck,” you cursed, leaning your head back against the couch and groaning loudly. Should you call Kenma? You could already feel a headache incoming. 

Why? Why did Kuroo always do this to you? He’s always had terrible timing, and apparently that never changed.

You plucked your phone from the table, braving it all and finally reading what he had to say to you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you fucking serious,” you grumbled, squeezing your eyes shut to chase away the anger building up inside of you. “Now? Now of all times? Does he even know what he’s sorry for?”

It wasn’t uncommon for Kuroo to apologize to you just because he knew you were upset. Still, you always forgave him solely because he was your best friend. But now, you knew better.

Fully ready to toss your phone aside, your eyes caught a new text from your ex-best friend.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.”

Liar.

“I’m sorry for that one time I told you I’d help you study for your chemistry exam but ended up forgetting and missing all your texts and calls.”

You remembered that day. You had confided in him about your bad grade, and when he told you he could help you study, you were over the moon at the thought of being able to raise your nearly failing chemistry grade (and at the thought of spending more time with him). You called him multiple times when he didn’t show up, but gave up when he didn’t pick up the fifth time. You stayed up all night studying on your own, but still ended up failing that exam. You dropped the class, and ended up taking it next semester to get a much better grade without Kuroo’s help.

“I’m sorry for when you couldn’t tell me why you cried the entire day but still let me over so I could complain about Kira turning me down.”

That day, you were extremely overwhelmed. Your roommate was out somewhere, so you were left on your own to cry over the endless amount of assignments you had to deal with, on top of everything else. Kuroo had called that day, clearly in distress, and though you were in tears, you wiped them away and put on a weak smile when he showed up at your front door with a pained expression.

You wanted to be there for him. He was your best friend, after all.

“I’m sorry for that time that I left in the middle of our movie night because Ayane called me and wanted to go out to eat together.”

Your heart stung at the memory. The sight of his back getting up from your couch while completely ignoring the hurt in your eyes was still engraved into your memory, even if you spent months trying to forget it. You had called his name, but he was too busy eagerly chattering on the phone to even hear you. When he turned around, it was to bid you goodbye before abruptly leaving you with a half-eaten bag of popcorn and an animated movie still running that you no longer felt like finishing.

“I’m sorry for making you think you didn’t mean anything to me.”

Did you make an impact on his life? Deep down, you had hoped you did, so he’d always remember you.

“I’m sorry for taking advantage of your friendship.”

That, he definitely did.

“I’m sorry for being the worst friend ever. I miss you so much, Y/N.”

Why were you crying again? Your hands came up to wipe at your cheeks before hurriedly video calling Kenma’s phone.

When he picked up, the first thing he did was sigh at the sight of your disheveled appearance. If you weren’t completely in tears, you may have laughed at his attitude towards the situation, but all you could do was let out a weak whimper.

“I think he’s drunk,” he spoke without you needing to say anything. The thought of Kuroo only texting you because he was inebriated hurt you even more.

“He’s such an asshole,” you managed to croak out between your cries. Kenma only nodded, eyes clearly focused on the screen of his PC. Briefly, they turned to look at you again and his expression softened.

“You should’ve blocked him,” he mumbled, and a weak laugh left your lips. “Are you going to reply?”

You were quiet for a bit, before shaking your head.

And with that, Kenma hummed softly. He stayed on the phone with you until you finished crying over his childhood friend, and only hung up when you finally promised him you’d call him again the next day.

Tomorrow came quicker than you thought it would, and you managed to ignore Kuroo’s messages without giving into the temptation to text him back. Your life went back to normal, relatively, aside from one thing.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you for not understanding me when you gave me advice. I was childish, and only wanted to hear what I wanted to hear.”

Now, Kuroo was texting you everyday with something he was supposedly sorry for. And now, you were calling Kenma everyday to beg him to tell Kuroo to stop, to just leave you alone so you could move on. And every day, Kenma would tell you that you both knew how stubborn Kuroo could be when he put his mind to something.

“I’m sorry for not being there for you whenever you needed me even though you were always the first one to worry about me and how I was doing.”

At this point, it had been a few days since the initial text, and you wanted nothing more than to find him and yell at him to leave you alone. You were fine with brief interactions, pretending like your feelings for him never existed and he never regarded you as someone he could trust with his deepest feelings. You were fine with that.

“I’m sorry for being stupid and being able to understand everyone else’s feelings except for my best friend’s.”

But now he was pushing your boundaries. He was asking for more than what you could give him without giving him your entire heart again. You knew, and Kenma probably knew too, that if Kuroo kept doing this, you’d end up forgiving him. You’d give up on all the work it took over the past few months to get over him and go back to being his best friend if he asked you to. All that courage you put in to cut him off in the first place would disappear, and you’d be back to square one.

“I’m sorry for not realizing you liked me, and that I like you too.”

That was the last straw.

“You’re a prick.”

His response was almost immediate.

“Can I call you?”

Before you even had the chance to reply, your phone was buzzing in your hand and you nearly dropped it in your surprise. Without thinking, you picked up. And you cursed yourself for doing that.

“Y/N,” his familiar voice calling your name in that teary tone nearly made you cry again. Instead, you bit down on your lower lip to prevent the sadness crawling up your throat. You could hear the noises of cars passing by on the other line. He must’ve been outside

“Y/N, I missed you so much,” Kuroo’s voice was weak, and cracked a bit as he spoke, as if he too was holding back tears. “Thank you for picking up the phone.”

There was silence between the two of you for a bit before you shakily breathed in.

“Please stop texting me,” you finally managed to mumble. “Please stop thinking that you actually have feelings for me just because I was a comfortable person to fall back to when you didn’t have anyone else to go on dates with at the time.”

“That’s not the case--”

“If that’s not the case, then what is, Kuroo?” you interrupted, voice trembling. “I’ve had these feelings for you for so long, and now all of a sudden I’m gone and you like me too? Fuck off, I can’t believe you of all people would think so lightly of my feelings.”

“Listen,” his voice was pleading. “It’s not like that. Can I talk to you in person?”

“If I see you, I’m just going to cry again,” you laughed bitterly. You could hear shuffling on the other line.

“Then I’ll hold you until you stop crying,” he retorted firmly, and your heart jumped in your chest. How long had you waited to hear him speak like that about you? Like he just might share the same adoration for you that you did for him?

“You won’t even be able to find me,” you mumbled more to yourself than to him. It wasn’t like you were at your apartment, after all. You needed to get away.

“If you really think that,” you jumped at the sound of his voice closer than you thought. Looking up from your feet, your traitorous heart rate raced at the sight of those familiar almond eyes and unfixable bedhead. “Then I must’ve been a really bad friend, huh?”

You spent an excessive amount of time just staring up at him from your spot on the swings, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. He had bags under his eyes, and his bedhead was a little messier than it had previously been. Despite all that, the man in front of you was undoubtedly the best friend you’d caught feelings for.

“...how’d you find me?” you finally asked as he took a seat on the swing next to your own.

“I wanna say that I’m just a genius, but honestly, you never removed me from seeing your location.”

Your eyes adjusted to the brightness of his screen. When you spotted the familiar profile photo of your smiling face on the map, all you could do was sigh. Anxiously, you ran your sweaty palms along your pants to wipe them off.

“I’ve said it a dozen times at this point,” Kuroo tucked his phone back into his pants, “But I’m really sorry, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I get it,” you mumbled, exhausted of his apologies at this point.

“I don’t know what more I can say besides I’m sorry,” he admitted weakly. You couldn’t find the courage to lift your head to look at his probably desperate expression. “I’ll be honest. I wanted to respect your wishes at first. If you wanted distance, I’d give it to you. But the more time passed, the more I missed you.”

You fiddled with your fingers and the edge of your shirt, trying to find any distraction so you didn’t have to listen to his explanation.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured, “I thought I was an idiot, for treating you the way I did. I took advantage of how comfortable I was around you, and when you finally left me, I realized how lucky I was to have someone I could be so myself with.”

He turned to look at you, and you finally lifted your gaze to meet his eyes. Your heart ached. He looked so tired.

“Have you been eating?” You asked quietly.

“See?” He smiled bitterly. “You care so much about me, and all I do is take that kindness and give nothing back.”

You felt tears prick at your eyes again as he took your hand and placed it onto his cheek, the familiar warmth of his hand reminding you that you truly would never be able to get over him.

“I hate you,” you lied through the tears slipping down your cheeks, “so much for everything you’ve done. For making me fall for you.”

“I’ll spend as long as it takes making it up to you if you’ll let me,” his other hand reached up to brush your tears away. “As your friend, and as someone who finally realized his feelings for you too late. And if I’m lucky, I hope you’ll let me back into your life.”

“It won’t be the same,” you admitted honestly. Truthfully, your friendship would never be the same after all the hurt you endured because of him. Things that may have seemed so small to other people hurt you deeply, solely because you trusted him so much.

“I trusted you to be there and to understand me,” you told him, “and you ignored all that. You can’t expect that to be fixed so quickly.”

“I know,” he brushed your hair behind your ear. “So I’ll give my all to build a new relationship with you. One where I’ll be better, and won’t hurt you ever again.”

The two of you were silent as you cried. Through your tears, you could see his wet eyes. The sight brought a weak laugh to your lips.

“Kenma said you’re way too stubborn when you put your mind to something,” you smiled sadly. “This is your last chance, Kuroo. Don’t ruin it.”

[gds-fanfic-blog]

Copy Cat! ...Or Bear-

[Based on @shifter-au AU. The idea of shape-shifting monsters was too hard to pass up]

It had only been 100 years after Fredbear and Springbonnie had been powered back on. Fredbear had minor memory losses, due to some events on the surface. Unfortunately, he still remembered Charlie's murder... The first death he witnessed before he understood the concept of dying.

Then there was his father’s suicide that stuck with him. Nightmares echo both of their screams.... Henry’s screams and sobs in pain, and Fredbear's own pleas and apologies to his father. Asking if this was death, and begging the poor man not to leave like his little sister did.

Two of the people he loved the most is gone, and have been gone for years. At least he still had his brother, Springbonnie, right?

Wrong... Something happened on the surface while Fredbear was shut off. Springbonnie witnessed his own father being springlocked, and was left in a back room for 30 years. His mind ended up repressing everything, including himself. Mentally, he was a child. Mentally, he was no longer Springbonnie...

He was no longer the bunny Fredbear grew up with. They are gone. Fredbear's younger sibling is gone, but they doesn't realize they need to say goodbye.

Fredbear tried his hardest to love Spring, with all his heart and soul. But this wasn't Spring. This was a stranger, that can't walk, talk, or play. They can't remember the good times he had with their brother...

Fredbear tried everything to make Spring remember, but nothing worked... he just wants the pain to stop...

He walks through Lilygear searching for something. "Hello? Anyone here? Just a fun and LOVEABLE guy passing through!"

This caught something's attention. A dark colored monster shifts into Fredbear's form. "Hello there, stranger..."

"Oh! Heya! Wow... a splitting image. Just like looking in a mirror!"

"Heh, thank you... you said that you were fun and LOVEABLE, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I did. I got a lot of friends back in town that really care about me, and I have my little brother with me too..."

Fredbear sighs sadly. "But... things have been hard with me and my bro... so I'm really happy if found you!"

The other "Fredbear" blinks, and stares at Fredbear for a moment. "Happy? Ha... you have no reason to be happy to see me... do you even have a clue of what I am...?"

The creature smiles, twisting Fredbear's face. Fredbear in turn smiles back kindly. "Yes I do actually. Read up on your kind at the local library. You're a shifter, and you can help me!"

"...what- wait wait wait- I'm confused... how am I going to help you?"

"Well... it's simple really! I'll be your host, and you can take care of Springbonnie! You need to feed on the love of others, and Spring will love you with all his soul!"

"....you ARE aware that as my host you will die, right-"

Fredbear beems. "I know! And that's the best part!"

The shifter is taken back. "....what....?"

"Well... I've been... meaning to uh... well... I'm sure you can guess at this point-"

"But why...? You said that there are people that love and care about you, a-and you have your brother to care for!"

"See... the people I care about the most... They're gone... some in more ways than one... my father and sister... They're both dead... and Spring...? I... I-I can't bring myself to love him anymore... something bad happened, and he factory reset... it's like he's not even the same person...."

He sets Spring down, who starts playing with some dirt. "....not their fault... but I can't love him... it hurts too much... everything hurts nowadays anyways..."

Fredbear smiles at the shifter. "That's where you come in! You'll be able to love him! He can grow up with someone that can care about him! He doesn't deserve me... not with what I really think about him anyways.... he won't notice! A-and he'll get a chance at a happy family!"

Oil droplets form in Fredbear's eyes. "H-hell, I don't think anyone will notice I'm gone! Not as important as they say I am after all... my life ain't much... but you can have it. Not even worth a ball of shitty lint, but h-hey, you'll be fed..."

"Well... if you are certain this is the path you wish to take."

The shifter turns his small paw into sharp claws. "Are you ready...?"

"N-not yet, just give me a moment-"

Fredbear approaches Springbonnie. "Heya bro..."

Spring gently places his paw on Fredbear's face. The tired bear chuckles. "Heh heh... I know I know... ya love me... listen Spring, I know... ya probably don't understand me that well... You're still learning after all.... but.... I care about you... I know I yell a lot, I make ya cry, and I.... I say how much I hate you... I-I sometimes even hurt you when I get mad but... none of that is your fault, but I can't handle it... but, from now on... I'm going to change.... I'm going to be a better brother, and you won't even remember a time when I showed ya any hatred.... I'm so sorry... for everything I've said and done.... I love you more than stars.... I love you more than the sun... from now on, I'm going to make sure ya believe that...."

Oil streams from Fredbear's eyes. Springbonnie gently wipes his tears. Fredbear wraps his arms around Springbonnie, giving him the tightest bear hug he can muster. ".....You're the greatest brother I could've ever had... I'm going to return the favor... if ya ever find out what I did... I'm sorry, but this is the last bit of true love for you I could give...."

He nuzzles Spring's head, and releases from the hug. He turns Springbonnie around, who goes back to playing in the dirt. Fredbear re-approaches the shifter. "Ok... think I'm good now. Ready when you are..."

Fredbear shuts his eyes tight, as the shifter raises his claw. Dust fills th air, and disperses. Fredbear goes to pick up Spring. "...I promise "bro"... I'm going to take good care of you..."

Fredbear leaves for home carrying Spring, leaving some clothing and dust behind....

[tenthgrove]

Yandere Bruno squad headcanons perhaps :0?

Yandere Team Buccelati

Content Warnings: Yandere behaviour, stalking, abduction

A/N: Apologies, but I've decided that I'm not really comfortable writing under 18s as yandere characters, so I'll just be doing Buccialati, Abbacchio and Mista for this one. Extra warning that this is really bad (I'm particularly not happy with Mista's section) because I wrote this late at night and didn't know what I was saying as I wrote it, so double apologies for that.

Bruno Buccelati

In spite of his occupation, Bruno has no qualms befriending the civilian population of Naples and doing good for them. He holds a profound pity for the victims of organised crime, and is eager to help where he can. So when you approach him on the street, asking for help with ridding yourself of a creepy stranger who had made it his business to follow and harass you, Bruno is quick to ensure your would-be stalker never looks your way again.

Although Bruno saw to it that you were escorted home safely, he can't help but feel some well-intentioned worry for your well-being over the coming days. He checks in on you again, which you find to be very sweet, but as the days pass by again his worry returns. Continuing to visit you would seem odd, he knows, but surely there's no harm in asking Narancia to check through your window once in a while?

At first it really is just concern for your safety, but after a while, Bruno is forced to accept that he is genuinely infatuated with you. His feelings are far too strong to simply sweep under the rug, and approaching you the normal way could put you in danger, provided it even works. He isn't going to kidnap you, that would leave him no better than the thugs he chases off of the streets, but to make you his he's going to resort to something unorthodox.

Bruno makes a few preparations. He does a few favours for your friends and family- gotta make sure they're on his side, He also checks his intel into the area's rival street gangs, since it can't hurt to have a hint of truth to the story he's going to tell. Then, armed with a few empty suitcases and a fake look of concern, he heads to your house late one night.

He announces to you that one of the rival gangs in the area has singled you out as a target for trafficking, and because of your previous interactions with him, they're dead set on taking you. Bruno assures you not to worry and helps you pack away your things, promising that you will be safe in his care while the issue with the gang is sorted out. You'll be staying in his house, of course. It's best he's right on call in case anyone tries to come after you.

Your new life in Bruno's house is a strange one. You cannot leave the house of course, except for the occasional short trip with him or his men to stop your mental health from suffering, but your internet access is unrestricted, you can call your family as much as you want, and you're allowed to buy anything you'd like with your money (or better, have him buy it for you). You have your own room, but Bruno often asks to come in and sit with you late at night. It's all for your comfort, of course.

After a couple of months, Bruno's excuses to keep you longer will start to run out as you start to wonder why he hasn't eliminated the street gang yet. The hope is that by this point, you would have already fallen for Bruno's charm and started to love him, but barring this, he'll simply buy more time by making up more reasons why it's unsafe for you to go home.

But, if all else fails, and you begin to insist on leaving... well, Bruno didn't want to do this, but he can't just let you go. You're locked in your room, windows barred as Bruno explains to you calmly that this is all for your own good. You can come out any time you want, Amore. All you have to do is promise to stay.

Leone Abbacchio

Despite his occasionally cold demeanour, Abbacchio is no stranger to the want for companionship and affection. In fact, it's fair to say he needs it, and that going so long without tenderness has left him empty, miserable and disillusioned. But it's only a matter of time before somebody reawakens his need for warmth.

Both of you were having a bad day. You were downtrodden and lamentful, and as sad people tend to do together, you shared your angsts together as you sat at the bus stop, neither of you caring that this was the first time you'd even seen each other.

Abbacchio does not want the conversation to end. So when the bus arrives, he gets a ticket to your stop instead, and sits with you, continuing to talk. He is sad when you say goodbye. He knows he needs to see you again. He thinks nothing of lingering to see which street you turn onto as you walk home.

Abbacchio gets to work right away. He needs to have you, but cannot see you ever falling for someone like him. Not through normal means instead. His thoughts turn to abduction, but the image of you begging and crying as he drags you to his car saddens him. He knows he could never hurt you that badly. He needs to find a half-way point, between force and natural love.

The first thing he does, once his mind is made up, is go to your boss. Using Passione's name, he quickly convinces them to fire you without any question as to why. It is a similar story with your landlord a few days later. Any friends or relatives who might take you in are also sent a warning phone-call.

You know full-well what has happened. You knew at the time your one-time companion on the bus was a mafioso, his story made that clear. You beat yourself up every minute for not avoiding him then and there. And now, as misfortune after misfortune strikes you, everyone who bears you bad news has the same white-haired stranger to speak of. When, on your first night on the streets, a tall figure approaches you from the black car, you do not feel any surprise.

Both you and Abbacchio know what he is here for, so he does not explain much. He sombrely instructs you to get in the car if you don't want to be stuck on the streets any longer, promising that he will not do you any harm if you comply. He has already struck out every other option for possibly helping yourself. You have little choice but to go with him.

You do not expect much when you arrive at Abbacchio's house, but instead you find all your old possessions lined up for you to decorate your room with. After quickly explaining where the bathroom is and which foods from the kitchen are free for taking, he goes to bed, advising that you do the same. You are completely, and utterly perplexed.

Abbacchio forces little conversation on you in the early weeks. Most of the time, he is out doing work, leaving you with free reign of his house. Soon, you do not feel at all as though you were forced to be here. You dare say your life is better here than it was before. Abbacchio's friends occasionally visit, making sure that Leone isn't mistreating you and you're fully happy here. Eventually, Abbacchio relents to letting you reopen communications with your friends. You cannot say you have anything to complain about.

The only question, is what Abbacchio ever wanted from you. It's so strange how he went to all these lengths to take you only to largely ignore you. The truth is, he's waiting for you to open up to him of your own free will. As he lies in bed alone at night, he dreams of you coming into his room, asking if he can hold you for a minute.

Mista

Guido Mista has dated a few times in the past, and he isn't interested in letting Passione stop him from continuing. It doesn't matter how you met him, just that after a few encounters you began to date, and were very happy with your new beau. You worked well together, what else is there to say?

But after your second date, Buccialati received word of your existence and was concerned. He isn't exactly going to force you to stop dating, Mista is an adult after all and can do as he pleases. But Buccelati wants to make sure you know what you're getting into.

Paying you a visit, Buccelati explains to you that your new boyfriend is involved with the mafia, and continuing to see him will involve certain risks. He is happy for you to take these risks, so long as you are aware of their existence. You thank him for him time, and immediately proceed to shut off all communication with Mista without explanation.

After a brief shouting match with Buccelati once Mista realises what he's done, he marches over to your house to plead with you to take him back. You stand your ground, that Mista lied to you and you refuse to be involved with criminals, but Mista isn't giving up.

The argument escalates. You slam the door in his face. Mista goes home and despairs. You were the best he's ever had, and now he's supposed to accept that you're just... gone?! No... all you need is a little more time. Mista turns right around and heads back to your house. This time, he isn't letting up for anything.

It goes much further than he intended. In a split-moment of instinct, Mista draws his gun and threatens you into letting him in. He really didn't mean to scare you like that, but his emotions are running high right now and he doesn't know how else to make you listen.

So, here you are now, a hostage in your own home, because your barely boyfriend couldn't let you go. In the ultimatum the two of you made after he threatened you, you ended up agreeing not to leave the house at all for the time since he was scared you'd try to run.

Mista doesn't stay with you all the time, but he visits you daily to bring you things and try to repair the relationship. To his credit, he hasn't threatened you at all since the initial incident and seems to regret it intently, but forgiving him is difficult after what he did.

Your commitments are mysteriously all taken care of, your boss inexplicably granting you a long period of furlough at full pay. Buccelati wasn't kidding when he said the group Mista was part of was powerful. You shudder to think of what else he could do.

[capricornwriter5]

Always on time - Chapter 7

Pairing: Jooheon x female OC

Genre: childhood friends to enemies, enemies to friends, friends to lovers, smut (later chapters), fluff, angst, slow burn, idol AU!

Warning: mentions of mental health issues, mentions of workaholic disorder, curse words

Words: 5k

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Chapter 7

Jooheon and Minhyuk arrived at the dorm around 7:30 at night. They hadn’t said much on the way, especially since Jooheon couldn’t get Jules' image out of his head. She was... angry? Sad? Disappointed? All the above?

Pfff, why didn’t I say something? Jooheon reproached himself, how hard is it to ask if she’s okay? God, Jooheon, wake up. You can’t fall for the same thing as Changkyung.

Minhyuk noticed that his friend was not in the mood for a conversation and was still trying to figure out why he had volunteered to help him with the exhibition when Jooheon got bored only hearing the word "art". It obviously had something to do with the curator, Seo Julianne. Minhyuk remembered that was also the name that came in the invitation of the reunion of Jooheon’s high school class; he still remembered the way in which the rapper had jumped out of bed after hearing that name. However, there was also the detail that Jooheon was on a hiatus, he was not working, and had to go to therapy... Would it be a good idea for him to take on a project like this? True, it had nothing to do with music and it would keep him busy, it wouldn’t have to be counterproductive, right?

"Jooheon-ah" Minhyuk told him as they both entered the dorm. "Be honest, why did you volunteer to help me with the project?".

"I want to help you, hyung," Jooheon replied a little surprised by the sudden nature of the question. "This exhibition is something you’ve wanted to do for some time, not to mention the Monbebes have been waiting for it. I don’t want you to lose your motivation for lack of time and, well, I may not know how to paint, but I have plenty of time right now, you know? And I know you well enough not to do anything tasteless".

"And Julie-ssi?" Minhyuk asked. "She has nothing to do with it?"

Jooheon was quiet for a while.

"Hyung, Jules... I haven’t seen or heard from her in years, hyung," Jooheon began. "She was... very important in my life and, at a certain point, during the madness of this idol life, I forgot about her. Remember the pictures my mother sent at our last concert? Jules was in most of them," Jooheon recalled as a smile appeared on his face. "At that moment, all my memories of us cascaded back and I started thinking about her again. I even thought about calling my mother and asking her what happened to Jules, and you see, I just... I just found her".

Minhyuk had never seen his friend talk like that about anyone and, although Jooheon did not notice, his eyes screamed the words that the rapper did not dare to articulate. Well, Jooheon has never disappointed me, Minhyuk thought, it would be nice to give it a try.

"Okay, Jooheon-ah," Minhyuk said in a determined tone, "you are in charge of the exhibition. Tomorrow I’ll sign the papers and I’ll put your information so you can be my spokesman".

"Hyung, are you serious? Are you serious?" Jooheon asked excitedly.

"You better do a good job. Monbebe has waited long enough," Minhyuk said.

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH" shouted Jooheon of excitement as he raised Minhyuk in a bear hug.

Once he put his friend on the floor, Jooheon hurried to the door of the apartment and began to put on his shoes hastily.

"Wait, where are you going?" Minhyuk asked. "We just arrived, and you know I don’t like to dine alone".

"I’m sorry, hyung" apologized Jooheon opening the door. "I have a lot to do... to read. I have... I have to go. See you later!" And with that goodbye, he exited the dorm and slammed the door shut.

Jooheon ran down the stairs and before reaching the first floor collided head-on with Shownu and Kihyun, who were returning from their activities.

"Woah! You all right, Jooheon-ah?" Shownu asked as he held Jooheon before he fell to the floor. "What’s up?"

"And Changkyung? Where is he?" Jooheon asked, ignoring Shownu.

"Changkyungnie? Well... he went to his apartment, I think," Kihyun replied. "Is everything all right? Why the rush?"

"Yes, yes, yes, everything is fine, but I have to go," said Jooheon hastily.

The rapper ran down what was left of the stairs and disappeared through the front door of the building.

"That was..." Shownu began without finding what to say.

"At least it’s a change," Kihyun said with a shrug. "Come on, he’s not going to tell us anything while he’s in that state. Maybe I.M. will tell us later, it seems that Jooheon needs him for something".

*********

Thirty minutes later, Jooheon was in front of I.M.’s apartment. Without thinking twice, he inserted the code into the digital lock on the door and let himself in.

"Changkyung!" Jooheon shouted.

Indeed, the maknae was in his apartment... but he was not alone. Liv was with him, and Jooheon had trouble processing the image of both of them, together, on the couch watching a movie as a normal couple. However, he recovered quickly enough to annoy the youngest member of the group:

"Hyung? What is it? Is everything all right?" I.M. asked with concern as he got up from the sofa. The truth is that the slam-door, plus Jooheon’s scream, plus the crazy face he had was not a very reassuring image and I.M.’s mind could only imagine the worst scenarios.

"Ah? Me? Mmmm, and what about you?" Jooheon asked in a naughty voice. Now the rapper was suppressing the laughter and the urge to bother Liv and I.M. "Do I interrupt your night? Your night alone?"

"AISH, HYUNG!" shouted I.M. "Get serious. You can’t just walk into people’s homes. I have neighbors, you know?"

"Yaaaaah, our Changkyungnie is a family man, eh?" Jooheon continued, raising an eyebrow.

"Hyung, why are you here?"

"Kyun, calm down" intervened Liv before the two rappers began to argue. "Jooheon, is everything okay? You scared entering like that".

"Ah, yes, I’m sorry," Jooheon apologized. "Everything is fine. I didn’t know Changkyung had company, but... I need a favor and it’s urgent".

"A favor?" asked I.M. "Tell me, hyung, what do you need?"

"Tell me everything you know about art... and philosophy... and those deep things you always talk to Kihyun and Minhyuk".

"Sorry?" asked I.M. stunned. He didn’t understand what was going on with Jooheon.

"You heard me. Give me a couple of intensive classes on what I need to know... ah, and I have about... three or four days? Yes. So make it short, okay?"

Neither Liv nor I.M. knew what to say. This was a pretty radical change in Jooheon’s attitude of the last few months and, while Liv hadn’t seen him much, she knew from I.M. the hard time Jooheon was going through. The two hoped that he would soon be his old self again, but neither imagined that old Jooheon would resurface with such a... impossible request.

"Hyung, that’s impossible," sighed I.M. "I mean, what you’re asking me... I wouldn’t even know where to start and..."

"It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter" Jooheon cut it. "You just talk, and I take notes. Believe it or not, I can pay attention when I intend to".

"It’s not that... it’s that..." Changkyung didn’t know how to make Jooheon understand that what he was asking was simply impossible. Besides, Jooheon hadn’t told him why he wanted to sum up centuries of art and philosophy in a couple of days. "Anyway, why do you want to know? And what’s the rush?"

"I have a new project and I need to know art, philosophy... maybe a little history could help".

"What is the project about?" asked I.M.

"Pfff, well art, obviously. What else could it be about, Changkyungnnie?" replied Jooheon. "God, I thought you were not so slow anymore. Careful, Liv is here, you still have to make a good impression on her".

"YAH!" shouted I.M.

Liv just laughed and got off the couch.

"Well, I guess it’s going to be a long night for both of you," Liv said. "I’m going to go get something to eat. Do you want anything special?"

"But..." started I.M., but Jooheon cut it off.

"Anything’s fine, Liv. Thank you".

Once Liv had left the apartment, I.M. turned to Jooheon to claim his intrusion. However, he could not even say two words because Jooheon started talking before he could:

"Don’t you start whining at me," Jooheon said sharply. "First of all, I know it was you who changed the passcode on the digital lock of my, MY, studio, don’t think I’ve forgotten. Second, I’m partly responsible for the two of you getting back together back: it was me who put some sense into that hard head of yours and it was me who had the idea of leaving you alone after your presentation a few weeks ago. And we all know that’s when it got interesting, don’t we?"

Jooheon paused dramatically waiting for I.M.’s response, but the maknae blushed so much with that last comment that he forgot how to speak.

"That’s what I thought," Jooheon said with a mocking smile. "So, long story short, you owe me not one, but two. But the most important thing of all, which brings me to my third point, is that the project is not mine specifically, it is Minhyuk hyung’s".

"Minhyuk?" asked I.M. "Did he finally decide to do something with his works?"

"Yes, but he doesn’t have time to organize everything," Jooheon explained, "and right now, time is all I have left. Although if someone would give me back my studio..."

"Okay, hyung" I.M. jumped before Jooheon made a bigger drama about the passcode. Changkyung felt guilty enough about it and the last thing he wanted was to be constantly reminded of it. "I don’t know if I can help you much, though".

"Sure you do!" Jooheon assured him. "I still remember when you read Socrates before a concert. It was so strange to see... But anyway, we love you. So, I’m in your hands, tell me everything you know".

When Liv returned with food, she found Jooheon and I.M. in the living room with several books around them and, although Liv had arrived with food, neither rapper gestured to get up and eat. The only thing that told Liv that they both knew she was back, was a little greeting from I.M. Other than that, the two rappers were focused on their discussion/art class or philosophy or whatever I.M. was talking about.

Liv thought it was good for Jooheon to try to look for other hobbies and other activities with which to be distracted. Although I.M. hadn’t told her the whole story, Liv knew that Jooheon had been struggling with stress levels at work and hoped this would help him release some energy. Besides, it would give the two of them another subject to talk about...

"That’s ridiculous," Jooheon said. "What’s more, it’s so obvious it’s ridiculous".

...or not.

"Yes, well, hyung, try to put yourself in his shoes," I.M., explained, "at the time of Aristotle there was no one who had talked about the things he was explaining and the literature was not as developed as today. The definitions that today seem obvious, for them were new".

"Still," Jooheon continued. "It’s just that... look at that definition: 'the beginning is everything that is not preceded by anything but is followed by everything. I mean TELL ME SOMETHING I DON’T KNOW. HERE I WAS, THINKING THAT THE BEGINNING WAS AT THE END".

"Hyung, look..."

It’s going to be a really, really long night, Liv thought laughing at herself as she prepared the dinner plates and watched the endless discussion of the two rappers.

_________________________________

On Monday the following week, Julie thought for the first time ever about calling in sick. On Friday, she was told that she would be starting with the development and organization of Lee Minhyuk’s project today and that Lee Jooheon would be the customer’s spokesperson.

I don’t want to, thought Jules turning off the alarm. I don’t want toooooooo.

However, after throwing the tantrum of the week on her head, Julianne kicked the sheets and got out of bed. An hour later she was ready to leave, convinced that today would be a day like any other.

"But look at you!" Rei said as soon as Julianne walked into the office. "I love that dress, is it new? And that lipstick! Someone got pretty dressed up today," concluded her friend winking. "Tell me, Julie-ah, excited to work with an idol?"

"Calm down, Rei," said Julie. "The dress is not new, and the lipstick was bought by my mother a few days ago, that’s all".

"Mmmm, right" Rei said not very convinced. "And the fact that today comes a famous idol has nothing to do with your choices".

Julianne didn’t bother to contradict her, she didn’t want to continue that conversation, so she just went to her office and started working. She still had a couple of hours before she had to meet Jooheon. The previous Friday, her boss and Minhyuk agreed to a meeting for that Monday at 10:30 in the morning at the studio where Minhyuk had kept most of his paintings. The idea was to make the first survey of all the works available for exhibition and from there establish the concept, history, or aesthetic line to follow.

At 8:30, Julianne had finished all the administrative tasks she had pending and did not know what else to do to kill time. She asked Rei if she needed help with anything, but she told her she had everything under control. It was still too early to receive visitors and the few people in the gallery at that time of the morning were being looked after and guided by junior curators.

Having nothing to do, Julie decided to do some research on Lee Minhyuk. Perhaps she could find some of the singer’s works and see more or less what his aesthetic line was, like that, she would not arrive completely empty-handed to review the paintings. She tried to filter the web results in order to look up information only about Minhyuk and not the whole group, but after several minutes she realized that that would be impossible, as the activities of all the members of Monsta X were really interrelated and even if they had different agendas, they did not miss the opportunity to mention each other.

Julie hadn’t really followed Jooheon’s career after the end of reality where he debuted, so she didn’t know what kind of music or performances Monsta X had. However, she only needed to listen to a couple of tracks to recognize Jooheon’s influence on the band’s discography.

"You’ll see, Jules," Jooheon said as he hung from the rail. "One day, I will be on a stage and people will sing my songs".

"Would you get off at once?" Julie said worriedly. "If you keep hanging, you’re going to fall because your greasy hands and you can’t be famous if you break your face".

"Pffff, have you ever seen anyone break their whole face?" Jooheon asked, mocking Jules. "Besides, I’m already nine, I’m stronger and this game is a joke to me. Want to see?"

"No, no.... Jooheon-ah, go slow. Jooheon-ah!"

"Ta-da!" Jooheon shouted as he landed safely on the floor after jumping down from the railings. "See, it’s nothing, Jules. Don’t worry... I know you can’t live without me but calm down and... AH!" shouted Jooheon when Jules hit him in the arm. "Why was that?!"

Jules didn’t answer. She just stared Jooheon in the face before turning to go home. She was also nine years old, but she didn’t do so many stupid things. Pfff, boys.

"Julie-ah," Jooheon said behind her back.

"Julie-ah"

"Julie-ah!" Rei’s call pulled Julianne out of her memory. God, what was that about?

"Ah? I’m sorry, Rei," Julie said. "Do you need anything?"

"Are you okay? You were like in another world".

"I’m fine, sorry," Julianne repeated. "Tell me, what’s going on?"

"Ah, right. You have visitors" Rei reported. "Lee Jooheon is here".

"What?!" Julie jumped out of her seat. "But... we were to meet in the studio in an hour".

"Mmmm, yeah, well, he’s here. He’s in the main hall, looking at some paintings from the exhibition," Rei said. "Should I tell him to come in?"

"No" answered Julianne almost immediately. "I’m going out. I’m with him in five minutes. Thank you, Rei".

Julie took a couple of deep breaths and shut down her computer’s search engine. He was glad that Rei had not seen the screen, it would have been difficult to explain why Julianne was watching music videos during working hours.

When Julie arrived at the main hall, she saw that Jooheon was indeed there. She took a deep breath once more and walked towards him.

"Jooheon-ssi" called him.

"Ah, Jules" Jooheon greeted her as he turned following her voice. "Wow, you look great. How are you?"

"I’m fine," replied Julianne with a professional smile. "I thought we’d meet at Minhyuk’s studio in an hour. Did anything happen?"

"Ah, no, no, not at all" Jooheon reassured her. "I just thought it would be a good idea to come and pick you up and go together. Minhyuk’s studio is hard to find and it’s easy to get lost in that area".

Confusing streets? Really? That’s what a GPS is for, Julianne thought annoyed for no apparent reason.

"I appreciate the gesture, Jooheon-ssi" Julie began, "but I think it would be better to go in separate cars. I have other commitments today and I don’t want to be a bother".

"No bother, Jules," Jooheon said. "I would have no problem being your personal driver for a day," explained the rapper, "but if you feel more comfortable like that, we can go in separate cars, just make sure you follow me. The streets are really tricky in that neighborhood, and you could end up driving in circles. Believe me, it happened to me once".

"Okay, Jooheon-ssi" replied Julie. "I don’t know how tricky a street can be, especially with a GPS, but I understand".

"Great," Jooheon said with a smile. "I’ll wait for you, then. If we leave now, we arrive just in time".

Julie saw the time on her watch and realized that Jooheon was right. It was 9:45 in the morning and the journey would take about 40 minutes, depending on traffic, so Julianne went quickly to her office to pick up her bag and went out with the rapper to the gallery parking lot.

The traffic was not very heavy, so they soon reached the residential area where the building where Minhyuk rented his studio was. All along the way, Julie stayed less than a car away from Jooheon’s vehicle, however, as she exited the main road and entered the adjacent streets, Julie got distracted at a stop sign and when she saw the road again she had about four cars between her and Jooheon.

Julianne then decided to turn on the GPS and follow the system’s instructions, but soon realized that Jooheon was right: the area was a maze. It was probably one of those neighborhoods that were "remodeled" through urban programs; the problem was that the maps had not been updated in navigation systems, so the names of streets and establishments in the system did not match at all with what Julie had in front of her. Se even ended up a couple of times on dead ends!

After about ten minutes of wandering around, Julie realized her cell phone was vibrating. The incoming number was unknown, so she decided to ignore it until the call was cut off, but immediately afterward, it rang again. This happened two more times until Julianne relented and took the call:

"Hello?"

"Jules! You finally answer," said Jooheon’s voice on the other side of the line. "Where are you? Are you lost?"

Julie hesitated whether to answer or not. Her pride was a little hurt and she didn’t want to accept that she was indeed lost.

"I’m almost there. Give me five minutes".

"Jules, tell me where you are" Jooheon said. "I told you these streets were complicated. Tell me what you see and I’ll go to you".

"You don’t have to do that, Jooheon-ssi. I’m almost there, I’m close, I’ll see you there" and with that Julianne cut the call. Part of her regretted it because she had no idea where she was. But her rational side made her calm down and park the car on the side of the street to check the map on her phone.

Julie confirmed what she already knew: the streets on the map did not correspond to the new layout of this area of the city. However, there were sections that were the same and Julie had a memory good enough to remember where she had already been.

She was about to decipher the route she had to follow when some knocks on her window made her jump on her seat out of fright. As she turned her head, she saw Jooheon smiling on the other side.

"What are you doing here?" Julie asked lowering the window.

"Well, since you didn’t want to tell me where you went, I called the owner of the restaurant on the corner and asked her to tell me if she saw a car like yours running around all over the place," Jooheon explained. "The guys and I order a lot from that restaurant when we’re in Minhyuk’s or Shownu’s studio. But anyway, she told me you were here".

Jooheon said it like it wasn’t a big deal, and it wasn’t, but Julianne was upset. She knew that what really bothered her was the fact that Jooheon was right, the fact that she got lost in the middle of the city, and the fact that Jooheon had to come looking for her like a little girl. Julianne was upset because she was embarrassed, although she knew she was being childish and that there was nothing to feel embarrassed for, but that only made her feel even more upset.

Within seconds, Julie’s head was about to explode, so she just took a deep breath waiting for Jooheon to get away from the car window. Bad idea. As she was getting air, Julie smelled the cologne that Jooheon was wearing. It’s the same as always, she thought, but before her head developed on that thought, she shook her head and set out to start the car’s engine.

"Well, anyway, now I know where the studio is," Julie told Jooheon as she held the steering wheel. "You don’t have to guide me anymore".

Although Julianne was trying to keep a neutral face, she was failing, and Jooheon was two seconds away from bursting with laughter. From a young age, Julie had the knack of wrinkling her nose whenever she felt embarrassed, and that was just what she was doing at the time. Jooheon endured the laughter but could not help the half-smile on his face as he recognized his friend’s gesture.

"Don’t worry, Jules, it wouldn’t be the first time. Don’t think I forgot the time of the maze" the rapper replied as his smile widened.

"Are you still not over it?" Julie said in a bit of a huff.

"How could I? Your nails left scratches and marks along my arm!" Jooheon jokingly told him. "I helped you out and you thanked me like that".

"Yah!" Julie cut him off. "Don’t be a liar, you scratched yourself when you fell trying to get on the bus with your eyes closed. I never took your arm".

"Yes, well, I’m sure my mother remembers a certain new shirt that on the first day had the collar completely stretched".

"In any case" interrupted Julie, "see you there".

"I’ll be right behind you," Jooheon said with a wink.

The rapper walked away from Julie’s car and headed to his. In the back of his mind, Jooheon hoped that Jules would get lost again just to see her frustrated face; however, in a matter of ten minutes, they were both parked on the street of Minhyuk’s studio.

Both entered the building and went up to the third floor, where was the place rented by the singer. Apparently, Minhyuk had been able to arrive after all, for when they arrived at the apartment, they found the door open, and inside was Minhyuk circling everywhere.

"Hyung" Jooheon greeted.

"Ah, hello, Jooheon-ah" Minhyuk greeted him. "Julie-ssi, you are just in time".

"Minhyuk-ssi, I see you were able to join us," Julianne said.

"Yes and no," Minhyuk replied with an apologetic expression. "I had a commitment on the area that ended earlier than expected and I decided to come here, but in... 10 minutes, more or less, my manager will pick me up. I just came to try to explain a little the disaster you see".

"Hyung, this is awesome," Jooheon told him. "I didn’t know you had done so many things".

"Yes, well, it’s therapeutic," continued Minhyuk. "Well, you see, I use this place more as storage than as an apartment. There are three bedrooms, plus the living room and kitchen, but only one of the rooms is furnished. Basically, the works are sorted by technique and in turn by color palettes that..."

Minhyuk continued to speak, but Jooheon stopped paying attention to what he was saying and set his sights on the amount of neatly ordered canvas in the room. Only there could be about 30 or 40 paintings of different sizes, colors, themes... it was impressive. The more works he saw the more excited Jooheon was for his friend. It was time for him to realize how great he was.

"Anyway, that would be it" concluded Minhyuk. "I hope it’s not too much information at once".

"No problem," answered Julianne. "This is my specialty, after all. In fact, it’s a very good organizational system and I think it can serve us well. I assure you that I will have the greatest care to leave everything as close as you have it now".

"Thank you" sighed Minhyuk more relaxed. "Well, I leave you, I have to run. In case you must ask me any questions personally, here’s my number" continued the singer handing a business card to Julianne, "but Jooheon knows me well enough to make decisions for me, so just tell him".

"Relax, hyung," Jooheon told him as he accompanied him (pushed him) to the exit. "See you later in the dorm".

Minhyuk took one last look at Jooheon and then went down to the first floor to go to his next meeting. Jooheon re-entered the apartment and saw that Jules was walking among the paintings trying to see what else was there.

"Well, where do we start?" Jooheon asked.

"Well... the first thing is to analyze each work separately. I see that some have a paper with what looks like a title, but that’s not true in every case. We have to decide on a generic naming system that allows us to identify the works by technique, color palette, or general theme. Later, we can use it to group the pieces according to different criteria and according to the concept of the exhibition" explained Julianne. "We also have to take photographs of each work to be able to assemble a digital catalog that would allow us to make decisions without having to be manipulating each piece without need. I’m going to go to the car to get the camera from the gallery. Meanwhile, go counting the paintings to get an idea of how many pieces are here in general".

Julianne left the apartment for her car before Jooheon could respond. Although it wasn’t like Jooheon had anything to say. The rapper had no idea what he was doing there. In his head, the logistics of this exhibition were not going to be complicated, but, again, Jooheon had no idea how many paintings Minhyuk had made over the years. If he had gone there alone, he would not have known what to do, but Jules knew in two seconds and that filled Jooheon with tranquility and admiration... And maybe a little pride. After all, Jooheon always knew that Jules was going to be excellent at whatever he set out to do.

Well, Jooheon-ah, let’s count, he thought to himself.

As Jooheon recounted the paintings, Julie got into her car and opened the back door to pull out the photographic equipment that would help her make the catalog. As she checked it, something vibrated in the front seat and Julie noticed that she had left her cell phone in the car. Luckily it was just a message from Rei telling her that the prints for the current exhibition brochures had arrived. Julie answered and when she was going to block her cell again, a notification caught her attention: 4 missed calls from an unknown number. Julie knew the number was Jooheon’s, but how did the rapper know what number to call if she had never given it to him?

Julie had not realized that, in fact, she never gave her personal number to either Jooheon or Minhyuk. They had the gallery contact, so how the fuck did he call her?

Julie went back up to the apartment with that question in her head, so when she walked in, that was the first thing she said to the rapper:

"Jooheon-ssi, how did you get my cellphone number?" inquired Julie.

"Ah?" asked Jooheon distracted with some paintings. "Ahhhhh, that. Well, since I didn’t see you anywhere, I called Director Kim and asked him".

Sure, it makes sense, Julie thought. They probably exchanged numbers when signing the contract.

"Yah, Jules, don’t tell me you realize that until now," Jooheon teased her. "Don’t tell me you still get distracted around me. I still blush easy, you know?"

"You never blushed easy," Julie said in a whisper as she rolled her eyes and put the camera on the kitchen table.

"With you I always did," Jooheon replied. That remark upset Julie a little, she thought she had spoken low enough so Jooheon wouldn’t hear her, but apparently, she was wrong.

Indeed, Jooheon had heard it, but he did not know where that answer had come from. Just... He just said it, as in automatic, and now Jooheon was worried about his comment having made Julianne uncomfortable. So, the rapper chose to act as if nothing had happened and go ahead with what they had to do today.

"Well, in the living room there are a total of 37 pieces, I’ll check the rooms and I’ll tell you the total," Jooheon reported.

"Okay, when you’re done, we start taking the pictures," Jules continued without looking at the rapper.

Yah, Jooheon-ah, are you an idiot or what?, the rapper reproached himself in his mind.

You had to have less than one functional neuron to not realize that Jules was... uncomfortable, cautious, around him. Jooheon didn’t take it personally, Jules had always been a little shy and it had been years since they last met and talked, so the curator could perfectly feel that she no longer knew him. Jooheon was willing to prove to her that their friendship still existed, or could exist, but comments like that were not going to gain him anything.

Jooheon-ah, focus, he thought. It’s easy. First, don’t say any more stupid things, second, focus on the paintings, hyung deserves it.

« Previous Next »

[yan-twst]

Hi there! You think you can write the reactions of the dorm leaders finding out that the only way their s/o can go back to their world is to die? And at this point of time their s/o is already dead. Please don't write for this ask if you feel uncomfortable. Thank you!

warnings: death mentions, just sad shit lol

riddle rosehearts

he crumbles. his air of authority, his usual strictness, his taste for sweets; it crumbles. he’s reduced to a crying mess for days

he tries to find some relief in knowing, technically, his lover is fine, back at home. that they’re alive, just somewhere so far away from him, somewhere where he can’t see them. they’re not dead- but...

he can’t shake the image of them in a casket. of them dying. crowley assures him that they returned home, that “dying” here for them was just the way to return, but it does very little to soothe him

how is he supposed to be calm? to take it all in stride?

they are alive, somewhere else. but they’re so far away, they’re somewhere he can’t even look at. he tells himself it’s better this way, they’re out there living; but it’s hard. they feel like they’re gone, and it’s because they are, just not in the way he was originally grieving for

to riddle, finding a partner was just another escape. an escape like NRC is, like the unbirthday parties are, like his dorm leader activities are, escapes from the fact he must return home once vacations come and he must bend to his mother’s will once again- and his lover being ripped away from him has him in shambles

riddle has never been one to make wishes upon stars or to believe in those silly wishing charms children play with, but he begins to silently wish to see his lover just once more. he feels selfish, he feels horrible- they’re back home and he wants to once again rip them out of their world and bring them into his, but he can’t help it

he consoles himself by thinking of them. how are they doing? did their friends back home miss them? maybe the people back in their world thought they were dead and suddenly they returned- much like how he thought they’d passed away until he was told they were alive back at home

that’s what he holds onto. they’re alive, out there- they aren’t entirely gone, even if he held their cold corpse in his hands, somewhere out there in another world entirely their heart still beats

leona kingscholar

is this a fucking joke? is this truly how things are? is he supposed to celebrate? yay, his lover isn’t actually dead, they’ve just been tossed back into their world of origin by the virtue of dying in leona’s world?

how is that any consolation? they’re gone, one way or another

it’s not like being told “hey! you might have thought your lover died but they actually were taken away by the same weird unexplained magic that brought them here, but they just had to die to return and somehow nobody knew this, and this information is only getting to you after a couple days of grieving their death” is suddenly going to fix anything

he’s bitter. can’t he have anything? not the throne, not the people’s respect, not love?

they might be home- but they’re about as good as dead, aren’t they? it’s not like this was a planned return, not as if they’d known it would happen. not like he had time to prepare, time to say goodbye, to even try to prepare for their departure, leave alone having to believe they were dead

it wasn’t a departure. it was them being ripped away from him. and now they’re gone forever, and not even the fucking headmaster who’s supposed to be this wise and powerful figure can even figure out how they got here or how they left upon their death

it takes time for the wound to heal. while knowing they’re technically back home doesn’t soothe him much, it does calm his soul somewhat; they aren’t a cold corpse, his last memory of bidding farewell to their cold corpse isn’t their last moment, they’re back where they belong

he doesn’t seem to hold any hope to see them again. but he can make an effort to try and reminisce about their time together- to think of anything but their cold corpse, of their lack of pulse- trying to match his mental image to how he imagines they’re living back at home, where they’re still alive

azul ashengrotto

he can’t take it. azul just retreats- he can’t function, not like this

when he’s told that while his darling died, they technically returned home, he tries so hard to take that as good news, he really does

curled up in his bed, eyes puffy with tears, body weak from not leaving his bed, he tries to force himself to think that’s good news. it has to be good news, he has to be happy over it-

but in reality, he can’t. how is he supposed to take that?! he loved them, he wanted to be with them, spend time with them; and now he’s never going to even see them again, never get to hold them, never hear their reassuring voice when he has a bad day

his guilt and overall grief just double, if anything. he should be happy- but he can’t. he can’t be happy about the fact they’re back home, he just can’t celebrate it, and so his grief mounts

is this truly it? he falls in love, spends time, builds a relationship, and then they die and he mourns only to then be told it was actually somehow meant to happen and it was the way for them to return to their world? that’s how it all ends?

it truly takes a long while for him to compose himself- long weeks, months pass and he’s not quite well. he doesn’t know if he’ll be. he can’t bring himself to throw away the funeral flowers, can’t bring himself to go back to his daily life

it’s a slow and painful process, and all he can do is hope his lover isn’t going through something similar. he tells himself that the last thing he’d want is for them to be back home, mourning him like this and unable to live, so he has to be strong. for them, even though they’re no longer where he can reach them

kalim al-asim

kalim tries so hard to take it all and run with it, to keep a positive attitude. perhaps that’s why the image of him sobbing at the “funeral” was so heartwrenching, and perhaps that’s why when crowley pops up informing that even though his lover did die, this was actually the correct way to return them to their world, kalim tries so hard to take in the information

absolutely everyone can tell he’s broken. everyone can see the dried tears on his cheeks, the way his eyes are puffy and red. at nights, those with dorms close to him can hear him cry. but then he goes and acts like it’s fine, saying they’re ok! they went back home! haha, i hope they’re having fun!

it’s as if he’s not allowing himself to grieve, telling himself he has no right to mourn because they’re alive, even though he clearly needs to, needs to find a healthy way to air out his emotions

but he doesn’t. he’s trying to immediately shove down the horror and overwhelming despair of his lover’s death and try to celebrate their return home, trying to ignore his own wounds to lighten the mood

it’s painful to watch, but there’s not much to do. what can even be done? there’s no guide on how to help someone in this situation; usually it’s him gently giving help to others, encouraging them to confront their emotions, but when it comes to himself he seems to just be letting his own grief and sadness eat him alive

kalim never forgets them. he always brings them up- when he sees their favourite food, when he sees a bench they liked to sit in, when he sees a colour they liked. it’s as if he’s reassuring himself they aren’t truly dead, as if he’s promising himself that if he can keep their memory fresh it’ll be as if they aren’t as far away from him as they are

vil schoenheit

the scariest part of vil’s mourning is that he shows nobody his weakness. during the funeral, he barely sheds tears, despite his hands shaking from how hard he’s clutching the edges of his lover’s casket, during his mourning he always seems to be composed despite his makeup telling he’s been crying and hastily attempting to touch it up

... he wishes he could say finding out his lover didn’t truly die eased the pain. it did, in a sense- but it just brought on a different kind of pain

he can’t just mourn, he can’t grieve his loss like a normal person. everyone’s eyes are on him, his job requires for him to keep a good public image; every day he has to fix himself, has to try and make his very clearly exhausted and tear stained face look appropriate

he tries to cling onto the fact they’re alive like a mantra. they’re alive back at home they didn’t truly die they’re ok they’re alive back at home; he repeats it in his head like a mantra, trying to keep himself from just breaking down while going on about his daily life

but it’s just not enough. he can’t help but drown in grief, drown in the “what ifs”. did they even want to go back? do they regret not getting to say goodbye? were they scared when they took their last breath here? did they think of him in his last moments here? do they think of him?

... would they have stayed if they’d had a choice?

it just tears him apart. there’s no way to know; he’s just hurting himself by asking those questions. there’s no point- they might be alive, but they’re still gone, realistically speaking.

all he can do is try to lose himself in his routines, try to not think as much as possible. try to just lock the memories that bring him warmth and ignore everything else- the death the what-ifs the distance between them- so he can function

idia shroud

it’s his fault. it has to be, somehow. idia has to be practically ripped away from his lover’s corpse, as his mind still can’t process what happened- no, he can- he can save them, he can bring them back, he can...!

he can’t.

they didn’t belong here, crowley says. their death isn’t a real death, it’s just their return to their world, where they’re supposed to be. there’s no bringing them back, not with any magic or any technology

and idia just breaks. 

isolated in his own room, he doesn’t allow anyone to get close. not even his own brother can seem to get to him; idia seems to act like a corpse, just laying in bed, trying to ignore the world. he’s not touching his videogames, not even trying to take care of himself, it’s as if he’s shutting out everything to drown in his own grief and regret

there’s no comfort in knowing that his lover returned home; it’s as good as them being dead for him, isn’t it? he can’t even try to fake being happy they’re home, because fuck, they were just- just ripped away from the life they’d built here so violently, they’d been here one day and the next they were lifeless, thrown back to the world they’d come from with no chance to even say goodbye

people worry for him. he’s not ok, and by the way things look, it doesn’t seem like he wants to be ok, letting himself waste away. ortho worries, despairs, begs for others to try to help, but what can they do? just show up and go “hey man, sorry about your significant other and like, only person you were truly close to passing away but not really because they got sent back to their world where you can never see them again, want a snack?”

it truly takes a lot to help him, and honestly it’ll take much more for him to go back to “normal”. he isn’t a stranger to mourning, but this loss, this emptiness is something he knows he can’t shake away- usually he’d turn to his lover for help when he fell into a spiral of negativity, but haha how funny of life to rip away his support system like that!

in the end, all he can do is slowly try to piece himself together; if not for him, for those who care about him; mainly for ortho. he knows the younger shroud was also attached to his lover, and so he slowly tries to do his best to comfort him, and in the process heal his shattered heart perhaps just enough to function once again

malleus draconia

there’s never quite been a storm as rough sweeping over the entire school. the clouds heavy with rain and thunder as malleus weeps and mourns, his emotions overwhelming him and turning into raw anger at the world itself while lilia desperately tries to calm him down before he causes serious damage

he’d always known they’d die one day- humans live less than fae, he knew that much. but he’d expected more time, he’d expected years. decades. and instead he got some months of happiness and love and then he was holding their corpse as it slowly grew colder

he rages and cries until he tires himself out. he doesn’t even know what he’s angry at- perhaps at crowley for not finding an alternate way home or for not letting malleus’ lover know of the dangers that lurk? perhaps at himself for not protecting his lover? or at the world itself for ripping away the first person he’s cared for in this way in such a violent manner?

the fact they’re “back home” means nothing to him. they’re gone- gone, out of his grasp. once malleus collapses, exhausted, it looks as if a beast had rampaged through NRC

he throws himself into trying to at least contact them. he’s powerful; he’s one of the best wizards there is- so how come he can’t even catch a glimpse of his beloved back in their homeworld? are they truly so far away from him?

dragon fae live for centuries upon centuries; and they mourn for years. after all, a year isn’t much time for malleus- and he couldn’t even bask in his beloved’s presence for that long- and it’s certainly not enough to heal the wounds in his heart

all he can do is try to wait, wait for the pain to subside; and meanwhile he’ll just suffer. the mere thought of his beloved is enough to make magic crackle in the air as emotions flood him, his guards and lilia running to his side to try and make him calm down

malleus doesn’t need sleep, but he forces himself to do so, just so he can dream of them. that’s as much as he can do. he’ll live for centuries, for years upon years: once everyone else is gone, only him and lilia will remember his beloved. he doesn’t want to forget them, doesn’t want their image to disappear.  if they truly are alive back in their world, then he promises to keep their memory alive here in his world