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yandere-daydreams · 4 years ago

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I neeeeeeeed more Hades and Persephone with their darling! Maybe a continuation of the last one, but it’s Hades’ turn with darling?

He’d have to steal his Darling away for that, wouldn’t he? Persephone is far from a demanding captor, but with how on-edge she is around Hades, it’s not hard to believe she’d be hesitant to leave the two of you alone. She deserves to be paranoid, at least.

Part One.

TW: Minor Acts of Violence, Past Kidnapping, Current Captivity, Emotional Manipulation, and Mentions of Starvation.

Hades’ garden was the only place in the Underworld with sunlight.

Well, ‘sunlight’ might’ve been the wrong word for it. There was no sun, no sky, no heat - there couldn’t be, not this far underground. But, there were slivers in the ground where rays of light spilled in, flowing down like sparkling streams of water and bouncing off of gemstones and smooth stone until the barest hints of their radiance reached the plot of land designated to buds that bloomed into thorns rather than petals, trees that’d bleed magma rather than sap, fruits of the dead that’d dye your fingertips red for days, even if you didn’t dare to pluck them off their stems. You couldn’t see it, but if you sat on the stone and closed your eyes, you could feel it, you could imagine the ghost of its warmth on your cold, frozen skin. You savored the garden. You relished the garden. You loved the garden, as much as you could love any part of your gilded cage.

You just wished you could enjoy it alone, for once.

Hades was like a shadow. Persephone was easily dissuaded when you expressed an interest in venturing beyond the confines of her palace, but Hades was an aura, a chill, a pair of eyes you couldn’t shake or stop from prying into your skin more painstakingly than any dagger ever could. This was his domain, his kingdom, and yet, away from his throne and his crown and his mistress, he seemed more like one of the spirits he ruled over than a god cast off of Olympus. You’d long-since come to terms with it, hiding yourself away and holding your breath, limiting your movements, being as quiet and as still as possible in hopes of coaxing him out, as a hunter would for a timid fawn. Some days, it took a few minutes and others, a few hours. Today, he must’ve been feeling confident. Your lungs had only begun to ache by the time he gathered the courage to show himself.

You kept your attention centered on the flower in front of you, as he approached. A translucent rose, jagged shards of glass curling around a crystalline core and emerging from a base of emerald, the edge of each petal just starting to blacken and wilt. A thought played on your tongue as Hades came to a stop at your side, as he muttered an affectionate greeting under his breath. You meant to return the gesture, intent on keeping your relationship with your captors as civil as it had to be, but you were already asking before you could stop yourself, posing a question you weren’t sure you’d like the answer to. “Will it die?”

That seemed to catch Hades off-guard. He hesitated before he answered, his hands twitching where they were folded behind his back as he fought the urge to scan over you. You were almost thankful he was the more concerned of the two. Persephone would’ve clicked her tongue, pulled you into her side, and told you that they would, but that you also shouldn’t ask after such morbid things. At least Hades wasn’t so patronizing. “They will,” He confirmed, finally, his tone steady. “Eventually. They last longer than plants in the mortal realm, but I made them to be living things.” A pause, a bite to the inside of his cheek. “That comes with a certain set of requirements, unfortunately.”

You shouldn’t have been surprised. You’d had to step over half a dozen shattered flowers just to get to this part of the garden, and you knew he wouldn’t design something that went against the law of nature he worked so tirelessly to uphold. “I’m a living thing,” You mumbled, the words barely audible. “Does that mean I’ll have to conform to your requirements, one day?”

Hades didn’t see fit to answer, this time. “You haven’t been eating.”

Technically, you haven’t eaten at all, not since you’re arrival. Hades had tried his hand at locking you in your room, raising his voice, making threats of what would happen if you didn’t take your meals with gratitude, and Persephone had gone on about how torturous hunger could be for an hour or two before growing frustrated and leaving you to wallow in your pain, but neither seemed to understand the notion that you’d much rather face the pangs and the aches and the weaknesses that came with starvation than accept the fact that you’d be thoroughly, completely, utterly trapped here for the rest of your now-eternal life. Among the dead, you had no appetite, no desire, no will. Not when the consequences of submission were so unignorable.

You wanted to stay warm far more than you wanted to make them happy.

You must’ve been silent for a moment too long. For the first time, Hades let out a sigh, the man shaking his head as he turned to face you. His lips were barely turned downward, his brow furrowed in something more akin to irritation than rage, but it was the angriest you’d seen him, the angriest at you he’d ever been. “There’s no point in putting it off.” He didn’t make excuses, didn’t make it sound like submitting would do you any good, but that almost made it worse. Unlike Persephone, he knew he was in the wrong. Unlike Persephone, he didn’t try to make it sound like he thought he wasn’t. “You’re here because there are two people in the Underworld who love you more than anyone in the mortal realm ever could. By behaving like this, you’re not just hurting yourself, you’re hurting us. That’s not the kind of action you should be able to take without guilt.”

“Because my pain is the only kind that doesn’t matter,” You replied, tearing your eyes away from Hades and forcing yourself to direct your glare at the ground, at the dull, shriveled jewels that littered the ground because he wasn’t kind enough to share his immortality with the creatures who needed it. You hadn’t asked for this. You hadn’t prayed for it, or begged it, or needed it, as much as he’d like to pretend you did. You hadn’t wanted it, and you refused to act as if you had. “You might love me, but I don’t love you. As soon as I get my chance to leave, I don’t plan on sacrificing it for a slice of a pomegranate. If that hurts you, then maybe you should be--”

He didn’t hit you, he didn’t lash out, but he didn’t have to. The iron-clad, ice cold fingers soon wrapped around your wrist were enough to stop you, enough to remind you that Persephone wasn’t the only deity you had to be afraid of, here. Reflexively, you snapped toward him, but you couldn’t help but shrink into yourself as soon as your eyes met his, grey and metallic and so, so wrathful. “I don’t want to hear a word of what you just said get back to Persephone,” He growled, his grip tightening, his nails biting into your skin drawing fresh, hot blood. If he noticed, though, he didn’t care, only pulling you forward as he went on. “There won’t be a second warning. If you dare to say something so careless to my wife, it’ll be her mercy you’ll have to rely on. I can guarantee you mine will be out of your reach, by then.”

He let you go, scowling as you pulled your injured arm to your chest, not caring how the pooling blood might stain your clothes. You could only nod and avert your stare, your throat dry and your mind so blank, you almost forgot you’d ever thought you were capable of thought.

All you knew was that, quite suddenly, the garden felt just as frigid as the rest of the Underworld.

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bro-ken-spoon · 3 years ago

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Percy Jackson Birthday Fic

Hey guys! I know I'm coming in just under the wire here, but it's once again August 18th, meaning it's once again Percy Jackson's birthday! I've written a little fic for the occasion!

Because it's me, it's a sickfic! Content warning for nightmares, and spoiler warning through the Heroes of Olympus series!

I will be posting this concurrently to AO3, but you can find it right here under the cut! If you like it, consider reblogging it or leaving a comment on ao3! Happy Birthday Percy!

Percy’s still in bed when Annabeth knocks on the door to the bedroom.

“You ready? You’ve got about fifteen minutes.” she calls through the door, and Percy just groans and rolls over. He forgot about his birthday dinner. It was too late to cancel, his mom and stepdad would be so disappointed. It doesn’t matter that he feels miserable, he’s got to get up. When he doesn’t give an answer, Annabeth opens the door. “Percy, it’s time to-oh. You’re still in bed.” She walks closer to him, and he closes his eyes. He feels Annabeth’s soft touch on his cheek, and she gasps slightly. “Oh.” she says in a small voice, and Percy’s not sure what that means, but now her hand is gone. That sure isn’t what he wanted.

He keeps his eyes closed. It does keep the headache down, and it stops him from feeling quite so nauseous. He can only sense Annabeth in the room by her footsteps pacing back and forth across the foot of the bed.

“Hey, Mrs. Jackson,” she says, and Percy knits his eyebrows a little. Not only does the sound send a bit more pain through his head, he also wonders why Annabeth might be calling his mom. “I just went to check on Percy to make sure he was getting ready, and he’s running a fever. Maybe we should postpone dinner until he’s feeling up to it, maybe next week just in case? Yeah, I can change the reservation, don’t worry about it. Yes. Yes, I promise I’ll update you every hour. Of course. Actually, yeah, I’ve got enough for tonight but if you wanted to drop by in the morning I’m sure he’d like that. Yeah. Alright, see you then. Alright. Bye.”

Annabeth’s footsteps move closer to him. He feels the same cool hand, this time on his forehead. She moves her hand, which makes him sad, but she plants a kiss there instead, which helps. She leaves the room and returns quickly.

“Hey, babe, do you think you can sit up for me? Just real quick.” she says. He wants more than anything to not move, but he can’t defy Annabeth, not when she’s asking so sweetly. He opens his eyes to see her worried face, and she helps him sit up. She sticks a thermometer in his mouth, which is a surprising sensation, but then she sticks a cool rag on the back of his neck, so he forgives her. When she takes it out, she makes a little sound of distaste. “This must’ve come on fast, huh?”

He doesn’t answer, just takes the medicine she sets in his mouth and a sip of the water. She helps him lay back down, and he drifts to sleep.

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

Percy is in pain.

He’s on fire. His body is shaking. He’s on his knees, chained to a wall, wheezing. The air smells and tastes distinctly like Tartarus. That must be where he is, he decides. He never really left. Except he can’t find Annabeth. She’s not next to him. Maybe she made it out. Maybe she...no, she must have made it out.

She’s not there, but he is. He tries to move against the shackles, but it hurts, and he can’t get them free. There’s no water around, no water that wouldn’t also kill him, so he really feels backed against the wall this time.

He blinks, and suddenly Nyx stands before him. He recognizes her easily enough, and she has a wicked smile on her face. He sees darkness. He sees Annabeth, scared, stumbling around as she screams that he abandoned her. He sees his friends, lying dead from a war that didn’t need to happen. He sees his mom, flailing for her life, being squeezed by the giant fist of a minotaur. Anger wells up inside of him. He tries to use that strength to break the chains, but it only leaves welts on his wrists as they start to bleed from the force against the cuffs.

The goddess hums, a deep, discordant sound that rivals that of a dying whale, and Percy screams, the sound drowning out his will to live. The heat seems to rise around him. He was already on fire, but now it feels like the thermostat has been turned up to 6,000 degrees, which he’s pretty sure is bad in Fahrenheit AND celsius.

After the sound, Percy begins to see more scenes. He sees Luke, writhing with Kronos’s spirit in him, as he takes his own life, the blood spilling out onto the floor of Olympus, signaling a new era but also the loss of a friend. He sees Silena, her dying breaths spent believing she was a traitor when Percy only saw someone who wanted to do the right thing. He feels how his gut sank and his heart pounded when he realized that Beckendorf couldn’t survive the fall into the water the way he could. He feels the grief realizing Bianca had sacrificed herself to get them out of the junkyard, the weight of her death and Nico’s loss making him stagger even now.

“Stop, please.” he breathes out. Each wave, each reminder of a friend he’d never see again punches him in the gut. He’s sweating, the air is getting tighter around him, and he doesn’t think it’s the emotional pain. Nyx is doing this to him. He has to break out of it, to fight it, but he doesn’t have the strength. “No more.” he pleads, his voice hoarse and shaky. He realizes he’s been crying, and the tears are still streaming down his face.

Then, he sees Annabeth. He doesn’t remember Annabeth dying, so he knows he can’t take this one. If he doesn’t remember it, he must have repressed it. That must be why she wasn’t with him.

“Percy?” she asks, her voice full of concern as if he’s the one who’s in trouble. He can’t get a word out other than a simple, feeble “stop.”

She walks towards him and puts her hand on his cheek. It feels so good, so blissfully cool and real, that he whimpers.

“Oh, gods,” she says, cursing in Ancient Greek as she walks away. He doesn’t want her to go away. As soon as she leaves him, she’s going to die, and he has to watch. He lets out a strangled cry, which turns into a retch.

He leans forward, trying to catch his breath. He’s not sure what’s bringing it on, but he can’t breathe. The scenes he was forced to watch? The thought of Annabeth dying?

“Shit, Percy!” Annabeth exclaims, coming back over to him.

She puts an arm around him, and he wants to explain to her that he can’t leave even with her help, but somehow he’s moving, leaving Tartarus and everything behind.

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

When Percy fully wakes up, he’s in a bedroom.

It takes him a minute to realize he’s in his own apartment, not the actual hellscape that is Tartarus.

“You with me this time?” Annabeth asks, and Percy takes a second to breathe deeply before nodding gently. “Good. I was afraid I was going to have to haul your ass all the way to camp to get some help.” She says it jokingly, but it’s clear to Percy that she genuinely was concerned.

“I just had a nightmare, that’s all,” Percy says, but Annabeth gave him a look. They both knew that nightmares for them were never just nightmares.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Annabeth asks, sitting on the side of the bed. Her stormy grey eyes fill with worry, and it makes Percy’s heart clench. It takes him a second to respond.

“It’s never going to go away, is it? I mean, after all we’ve seen, is there even such a thing as a peaceful life?” Percy asks aloud, but he can’t expect Annabeth to have an answer. Even in her seemingly infinite wisdom, she doesn’t always know the right thing to say.

“No, Percy. It doesn’t go away.” she says.

“Oh, good,” Percy says sarcastically, “Just what I wanted to hear.” Annabeth smiles at him, and though he doesn’t see much to smile at, Annabeth’s smile has always had that effect on him. She rolls her eyes.

“It doesn’t go away, but it gets better. We’ll keep making good memories, keep having good experiences, and someday, the good ones will outweigh the bad ones. Like, y’know how we almost died like once a month as preteens?”

“No, I seem to have forgotten that.” Percy’s sarcasm knows no bounds. Annabeth punches his arm gently.

“Well, we did. But, you also remember that time the whole camp baked you a birthday cake? And that time we kissed under the water? And the campfires, and friendly capture the flag matches? Basically, what I’m saying is, of course there are going to be bad times,”

“Like the dying,”

“But there will be good times too. And those are what makes it all worth it.” Annabeth finishes despite Percy’s interjections.

“I get it. It’ll get better and all that,” Percy says, but he really is serious. “Thanks, Wise Girl.”

“Of course, Seaweed Brain,” she says, tousling his hair. He leans into the touch. It’s comforting. “Now get some rest.”

He’s asleep before she even leaves the room.

#Percy Jackson #pjo #annabeth chase #percabeth #sickfic #nightmares #post-HOO #happy birthday percy!#i also made blue pasta with alfredo and blue cookies and bought blue cupcakes but i'll spare you the photos they don't look edible

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troubatrain · 4 years ago

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afterglow - k. hayes

a/n: a repost from my old blog!

You were having the day from hell. You were late for a work meeting, which only ended in being berated by your boss for the third time this week. You were positive she was just trying to push you to quit, which is just wonderful. You’d barely been working there a year, and the thing that you sacrificed for that job was one of the hardest decisions you’d ever made. Then, in true New York City fashion, you were six blocks from a subway station and it started to downpour on your walk home. You finally walk into your apartment, kicking off your now soaked beyond belief heels, walking into your kitchen immediately and grabbing a bottle of wine out of your fridge. You sigh, pouring it and taking it into your bedroom.

The worst part of your day was still looming. You pull out a box, filled to the brim with the memories of your past relationship. You called Kevin a week ago, after running into Mika at the Starbucks a few blocks away from MSG. You remembered you had a box with his, and you offered it to him when he came to play the Rangers. You didn’t think you would even get an answer, and you knew Kevin left things everywhere and he’d just replace them like it never happened. You couldn’t even remember how many ties of his would go missing by the time he would come back from a road trip. But, Kevin answered that he would swing by and grab them after his flight landed. You hadn’t seen Kevin since the night you kicked him out of your apartment, far too livid at him to form words.

February 25, 2018

You were on edge all day. Kevin had mentioned to you when you started dating that he might not be in New York all season. You both decided to ignore that, pretending like it wasn’t happening until it was. You had only been seeing each other for a few months, but with Kevin, you knew it would be him forever.

You stared at the TV in shock, mouth hanging open at the news.

Kevin Hayes traded to the Winnipeg Jets

You didn’t care what the Rangers had gotten in return, you didn’t care about how far away Winnipeg was, you cared that your entire world was just torn apart. You hadn’t been dating long at the time, a mere six months, which put you in a bizarre position about what the future would hold for the two of you. You sat in your apartment in the West Village, waiting for Kevin to make the short trip from Chelsea.

“Babe?” You hear him unlock the door with the key you’d given him a month ago.

“You’re leaving,” You whisper lowly, not wanting to admit to yourself.

“Y/N, it’s going to be okay, we’ll work it out. You can come with me, in the off-season I’ll sign a new deal and we’ll start making a new home for ourselves,” Kevin says softly, baby blue eyes looking into yours as he kneels in front of you on the couch to get eye-level with you.

“Kev I can’t just pick up and leave, I have work and a life here,” You tried to explain, you’d moved to New York when you were 18 and headed to NYU, bright eyed and full of hope, and stayed after graduation, building a career for yourself in the city. You loved New York, the culture, the atmosphere, and on most nights the people. You’d just taken your dream job, and you weren’t in any position to give it up.

“I can take care of you, come September we’ll be able to settle down somewhere else,” Kevin whispers, resting his large hand on your thigh.

“I don’t want that Kev!” You shout, not realizing your voice had risen, “I did all of this on my own, I’m not going to let you just take care of me, you know that.”

“Y/N what am I supposed to do? This my job, I don’t have a choice, I told you this might happen,” Kevin shouts back.

He was right, he told you after your first date that he wasn’t sure if he would even be a Ranger for the rest of the season. His contract was going to expire and the team was in a rebuild, he knew if he had a good season he would be gone by the deadline.

“Kevin, I’m not that girl,” You start, you were upset and you were lashing out at Kevin for even asking you to leave New York, “I’m not going to follow you around and give my dreams for your job.”

“I’ve never asked you to be,” Kevin shouts back, “Can you be the kind of girl who’s there for me?”

“I’m sure you can find her in Winnipeg,” You deadpan, crossing your arms at him. It was the first time you’d ever fought, and most definitely the first time Kevin’s ever raised his voice at you. His face was red, veins popping out of his neck. He was mad, and you were mad that he couldn’t understand where you were coming from. Kevin was more traditional than you, and while it made him a gentleman, it made it hard for him to get that you liked to work.

“You want me to go off to Winnipeg and find another girl?” Kevin asks, his tone harsh, “It would make road trips fun again.”

His last words were muttered under his breath, but that didn’t mean you didn’t hear them. The second the words slipped out of his mouth, you both went silent. His sentence rocked your world. You never thought Kevin would cheat on you, he’d always made it clear to you that he was yours and you were his. But, the way the words fell out so easily made your skin crawl. You wanted to scream, cry, and fight with him for the next day - but you weren’t being given that time.

“Kevin, just go, I’m sure you need to pack,” You say, tears threatening to spill.

He stands in the doorway, debating whether or not to leave, he looks at you defeated and walks out of your apartment. You sat on the floor of your apartment that night, tears flooding out of your eyes while you wore Kevin’s too big Red Sox hoodie that you loved so much.

You wipe a little dust off the box, it's been almost a year since that night. You’d seen Kevin, on the internet at least, not being able to stop yourself from Instagram stalking your ex-boyfriend. You unfollowed all of his friends, and most of his family - only following his sister just because you liked to see pictures of his niece. Which was fine, until she posted a video of Kevin trying to braid her hair when they headed to Winnipeg to visit, and you cried in the bathroom at work. You opened it, trying to even remember what was inside.

You pulled out a few of his hoodies, because his clothes were always thrown around your apartment. You laugh, pulling out the Patriots hoodie you’d borrowed after the first night you crashed in his apartment. You wore it on the walk back, ignoring hollers about the sports team on your chest while you weaved through the streets of Manhattan while you took a walk of shame back to your place. You hold the gray fabric in your hands, remembering the way it felt - soft like Kevin always was with you. You pull out a couple of his beanies, remember how many he would leave at your house and then just buy another because he forgot about it. You pulled out a few ticket stubs, random concerts you’d both been to that you tossed in there when you broke up. Then you hit the two small velvet boxes that you never stopped thinking about.

You pulled out the first box, opening it to reveal the necklace Kevin had gotten you for Christmas. It was so perfect, you were positive Brady’s girlfriend had to have helped him pick it out. You only tried to wear it once after you broke up, but the memories that flooded back when you put it on was too much. Then there was the other box. Kevin had gotten you the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen in your life for your birthday. He claimed it didn’t mean anything, but when his eyes sparkled when you slipped it on your left hand, to try it on in the restaurant you were in, you thought it may mean more than he was leading on. It was your favorite piece of jewelry, the ring was dainty and small just the way you liked it. You were surprised Kevin even picked it out, considering he lived by the motto that the bigger the better, but he told you he knew you needed it when he saw it in a shop window on a roadtrip in Chicago. You drop the box, hoping maybe he would give it to someone else one day, if there wasn't someone else already.

You hear your someone try to buzz into your building and you knew it had to be Kevin. You carry the box with you in the living room, buzzing him in and dropping it on the island in your kitchen. You sigh, hearing his heavy footsteps come down the door, opening it and letting himself in.

“Hey,” You say, your voice small.

“Hey,” Kevin breathes out, you were both nervous which you guess could be a good thing. He looked different, his hair was a little longer and his beard a little fuller.

Suddenly, as if the universe decided to lay it all on you today, the power in your apartment shuts out, a loud crash of thunder following. You jump, feeling Kevin’s large hands on your shoulders when you do.

“Fuck, give me a minute,” You mutter, running into your room to grab some candles. You spread them around your apartment, lighting them until your apartment wasn’t completely dark.

“All of downtown is in a blackout,” Kevin says, reading the news on his phone, “Like all of it.”

You bite your lip, debating your options. You shouldn’t let Kevin go back out in this weather, and with no power on one half of Manhattan, it wasn’t a great idea.

“You should stay, til this all blows over,” You offer, gesturing to your island where the box sat.

“That’s my stuff?” Kevin asks, opening the box and smiling at the contents. You watch them sift through the box, a wide smile on his face that could barely make out in the glow of the candles that littered your apartment. His hands gripped the same velvet box you dropped in just before he arrived.

“You should keep these,” Kevin says, “They were gifts.”

“Give them to someone else one day,” You whisper, sitting on your counter while you watched him, “That’s what you wanted right?”

You didn’t realize the words came out of your mouth. You’d been harboring this feeling of resentment for so long, your entire world was crushed in a matter of a night and you just wanted some closure. You thought you could get it by just giving him his stuff back, but it still wasn’t enough.

“I didn’t want that,” Kevin says back, “You said it first!”

“You asked me to be someone I wasn’t Kevin,” You say, your voice rising, “That wasn’t fair to me!”

“It wasn’t fair to me that I had to leave, but I did,” Kevin shouts, “And all I wanted was for you to come with me, because I love you.”

“Do you think that it was fucking easy to let you go? Or that I didn’t spend months of my life regretting it? Because I did,” You yell, tears welling up in your eyes, “Congrats Kevin you win, I was fucking miserable without you and the reason I stayed in New York isn’t working out.”

You stomp into your room, slamming the door and sliding down it. You finally just let yourself cry. About that fucking night. About losing the love of your life for some job that isn’t working out. About ruining your own happiness because you could just compromise once. Kevin knocked lightly on the other side, finally giving up after what was probably his hundredth time, sliding down the other side of your bedroom door.

“It was really lonely up there” Kevin whispers, loud enough for you to hear through the door, “In Winnipeg.”

Kevin talked for an hour. He talked about Winnipeg, how no matter what he did he couldn’t stop thinking about you. How he wishes you could have been there. He talked about his summer in Boston, mentioning how his sister got married and he wished you were there. He talked about how his mom asked about you all summer, but he just kept brushing it off because he couldn’t tell her it was his fault. Which leads up to now, where he is finally getting to the new city he set roots in.

“-I like Philly,” Kevin whispers, “You would too, everyone there is great. You’d love my teammates, and they’d love you.”

“Kev?” You finally say, your voice still trembling, “What happened to us?”

“I don’t know,” Kevin says back, his head tapping the door, “I didn’t mean what I said, I don’t know why I said it, but I didn’t mean it.”

“We were both upset, about everything,” You say back, standing up and opening the door, “I’m sorry for telling you to go find someone else.”

Kevin stands up, his hands finding both sides of your face to wipe away the stray tears that were left, “I’m never going to find someone else.”

“Kevin, I can’t pick up and run off with you,” You say, repeating the same thing you did a few months ago, “Just not right now.”

“Philly is barely three hours away,” Kevin counters, “I’m willing to do it if you are, because I can’t walk out of here without trying.”

You finally place your lips on his, soft and slow at first. But when your hands found the back of Kevin’s neck, playing with the hair that was starting to curl, you could feel him grunt into your mouth and you smiled against his lips because you knew it drove him crazy. That was the point, you knew everything about him because he was yours, and you were his.

#kevin hayes #kevin hayes imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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gautierprotectionsquad · 4 years ago

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Reading cemetery boys (finally)

Major spoilers. I highly recommend reading the book

The main character is a trans poc which i did not know. In fact, i went into this knowing nothing other than queer and fantasy. I think i forgot every single time i’ve been told he is trans. Oh he’s gay too. I thought he was going to be bi. His family doesn’t accept him. Except for Maritza. His...cousin? I like how stressful this is almost right off the bat. I want him to get the boy powers and be recognized as a boy by his goddess. But he might be rejected or be given the rosary powers instead (seen as a girl). His mom was supportive. I’m going to stop typing since I feel I’m just going to be typing what is happening and what i’m learning as i’m learning it instead of my thoughts on it.

Would people be able to tell just from looking at him that he did the ritual or would he have to show his powers first? How accepting is his family? He didn’t get to have his ritual and he mentioned them not recognizing him as a man and feeling like the black sheep for being trans and them being “fine with him being gay bc they saw it as him being het do to not seeing him as a man” but they call him by his correct name.

I’m still feeling that fear from earlier bc his family doesn’t know what he did yet. It feels like he’s going to tell them what he did which i dont think is a smart move.

His goddess always recognized him for who he was. When he tried using healing powers, it didn’t work and hurt the poor kitty worse. Why would his family ever think doing the rosary ritual would work?

He has other outsiders in his family as allies. Maritza, who is vegan and refuses to use her healing powers bc it requires using animal blood, his uncle who barely has any usable magic.

Instead of stating the deadname it just said “deadname slipped from her mouth”. That’s good. I don’t want to learn the deadname. I much prefer when it is censored.

YAY! He can summon spirits!

Oh no he can’t return him. I mean not really oh no bc i like julien but oh no it makes my boy sad.

I ship it but don’t know how it would work.

Julien and miguel died really close in time. Were they killed by the same person?

How long does it take for julien to find out he’s trans? Is he going to pity him or get angry for him? He’s going to find out relatively quick since he’s going home with him. I hope he doesn’t get all awkward about it.

Oh. it’s even worse. He didn’t even recognize yads as a boy. He misgendered him just now. Damn. i know Yads doesn’t technically pass well yet bc he’s only 16 and isn’t on T but ouch.

Is Julien gay? Bi? Does he know if he’s bi? He’s certainly got adhd.

Oh. Yadreil tells him himself. Thought he would find out by overhearing his family say something wrong.

Ew high school.

Ah! He’s gay. Why’d he ask if him being gay is a problem like this boy isn’t trans? This is so awkward.

Awww. did he change it so it said the correct name/block out the deadname?? HE DID!

I like julien’s friends. That meeting with his friends went really shitty.

Julien and miguel are going to be sacrificed? Hopefully yads puts the same pieces together that i did.

Julien is an unapologetic queer. On MY level. He’s trying to get Yads on that level of punk queerness. I understand where yads is coming from though. He loves his family. He wants them to accept him fully. Their rejection matters to him and he can’t brush it off so easily and force himself not to care or even care less. His magic is his birthright, his culture.

Oh his mom was definitely the one that healed luca.

I think Maritza is going to find a way to use her magic without needing blood. Maybe she can bring julien back to life? She and Yads can be a sign of change, not just change, growth. Rebirth. Julien thinks there must have been trans brujx before. Maybe they are losing their magical flow due to being stuck in rigid tradition that might not have always been there.

I like tio catriz but i’m worried he’s the villain who summoned the jaguar for power. I really don’t want him to be but who could the villain be. It would make sense for us to have met them and for them to have access to the jaguar.

The deadline is so close.

Julien: don’t tell anyone i’m dead

Julien: does some poltergeist shit that makes it obvious he’s a ghost.

The more i think about it, the more the uncle makes sense. Maybe miguel isn’t a sacrifice but he caught his uncle in the act. That would explain why there were 3 missing kids on top of julien and miguel.

It’s taking him too long to connect the dots. Might not do it till it’s too late.

I hoped that Yads would have been able to sether the tie with his dad as witness. Instead his dad did it. His dad still saw it glow though.

Gay goth witch.

“He didn’t turn at the sound of the apartment door banging open” oh my god.

¿Me dejas robarte un beso? Will you let me steal a kiss?

Julien is still alive! Bc of the sacrifice thingy.

I was right. About everything.

Where is Matriza?

Chapter 24; we’re in julien’s pov.

Mi querido!!!!!!! My dear my beloved my darling my love!!!

FINISHED.

I wish we got more of Julien’s friends and Rio in this book.

#cemetery boys #cemetery boys spoilers #romanticsap #julian diaz #trans books #lgbt books #queer books #reading #aiden thomas #yadriel

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years ago

Text

Heart in My Hand (15x18 “Despair” coda, Dean-centric, Destiel. post-that scene)

(ao3 link)

He was right there.

Cas was telling Dean everything he ever wanted to hear since meeting the angel of the Lord... only each and every word of his confession stabbed at Dean's heart. Because once he finished, there's no more time for them. For him. For any chance of happiness - all that taken away by the Empty. And now he has to carry on.

He tries. Stands, gets in his car and drives where Sam tells him. When he meets with the others, though...

Dean spots them easily, only two people left on the planet besides himself. Standing in the middle of the street, waiting. He rolls to a stop near some crashed truck and an abandoned bag of groceries that spills out the top. Egg yolks oozing into a small puddle, mixing with freely leaking juice burning bright against dark asphalt. Visible even from where he sits inside his car.

With Sam and Jack advancing, Dean crams the rest of his emotions down. Puts on a brave face. What he sees in his rearview isn’t anything like that. Trembling lips. Red, blotchy skin. Wide eyes that look more haunted than an average, Midwestern home. It’s better than how he appeared earlier. And since they’re already here, he must move on. Steeling himself, he exits his car.

“Dean,” Jack starts, glancing from him to his empty car, “Where’s Cas?”

Dean fails, again. “Cas…” He croaks, words blocked by the boulder that wedged into his throat once that black portal of despair vanished. Water traces familiar pathways down his cheeks, Dean steadying himself on his open door. Hisses panicked breaths through clenched teeth. “Cas, he…”

“Oh.” Sam stumbles backwards, news dealing its own damage. Jack stares at Dean, jaw hanging limply. Gaze wet from threatening tears. “Was it…” his brother coughs, regaining his footing, “was it Billie?”

He shakes his head, still not ready to speak. Voice abandoning him like… well.

“Chuck?” Jack asks, inching closer. “Did Chuck make him crumble, too?”

Dean nearly forgot. Chuck… if only. His anger would have a target, instead of hanging around him as if it were a fog. Miasma thick he cannot see past a never-ending reel of those few, long minutes. Cas’s parting message replaying ad nauseum. “No,” he manages, staring at Baby’s roof. “No, he – he sacrificed… to take out… to save…” Gasping, Dean lolls his head upwards. Staring up at an empty sky, sending what’s left of his sentence into the heavens.

Someone approaches, lays a hand on his elbow. There because it hovered over Dean’s shoulder and chose a different path. Dean felt how close it came to fitting over his angel’s mark. Heard a sharp intake of breath after they noticed it, confirming Dean’s suspicion. “Dean,” Sam says – of course it’d be him. He recognizes his little brother’s voice. Especially when he forces confidence through his tone. It lacks, however, as an undercurrent of worry threaded through it. “Dean,” he continues, “what happened?”

First, he searches for Jack. The younger boy leans across from Dean, waiting. Curious. Heartbroken. “He,” Dean whispers, knees buckling under him, “Billie was out for blood and – and we couldn’t stop her on our own. So Cas, he…” Sam’s grip tightens on his elbow, adds another supportive touch to Dean’s armpit. Keeps him standing. Dean thanks Sam by letting his hands stay. “We were dead to rights. So Cas… let himself be happy.”

Jack’s muttered curse resolves a lingering question, whether he knew. Doubly confirmed since Jack draws further attention to himself, slamming his fist on Baby’s roof. Dean doesn’t raise his usual objections. “The Empty,” he says.

“The Empty?” Sam glances between Jack and Dean, “What would… why would the Empty be there? When Cas is happy – what are you talking about?”

“A deal Sammy,” Dean says. Louder, rougher. Shattering the eerie silence of this deserted city scape. “He made a deal with that damned thing, his life for… for…”

“For mine.” Jack tilts his head, brows drawn in such a mirror of his father Dean nearly collapses where he stood. He remains strong. “When I was in Heaven, after I… I died, the first time.” Sighing, he stretches towards them. Extending an empty palm in a gesture of regret. “I’m… I’m so sorry –“

“No.” Dean slides his own hand, taking Jack’s. Squeezes it. Grounding himself further. “I don’t… it’s not your fault. Cas made the deal. He – he’s made his choice. It’s… if he had the chance to go back, he’d still do it. Again and again. That’s who he is.” Dean hiccups, face cracking as his mouth stretches wide, gracing the others with a rueful smile. “Putting everyone’s needs before himself even if it… even if it meant he could never…” He shudders, Cas’s peaceful expression when the Empty struck frozen in his mind. “Too good, Cas was – he was too good –“

“Dean, Dean!” Sam tore Dean away from Jack and Baby, carrying him off to sit on the sidewalk’s curb. Bent him, head between knees, helping him work past growing hysterics. Jack followed them, hovering. Shadow blocking the sun from shining above, casting him in darkness. Thinking this makes Dean spiral further. “Breathe Dean, just breathe.”

It’s stupid. Dean wastes valuable time, their world crumbling all around them. And what is he doing? Crying. Making Sam and Jack comfort him because Dean lost the shovel he usually buries his feelings with. Empty probably taking that, too. It’s stupid. Maddening. Also, completely unavoidable.

Dean wondered if, one day, he might shatter so completely gathering those pieces might prove impossible. He has his answer, at the worst possible moment.

Soon he calms, and Dean can lift his head without flashing back there.

“Dean…” Sam starts, cautiously. Treating Dean too carefully given how far into this war they’re in. “Dean, Cas’s deal… the Empty wanted him happy?” Nodding, Dean waits for the next question. Dreading it. “What… what did he do?”

Sam hadn’t broken down, when they found Eileen’s duffel – and her phone. Recovered best he could and shouldered his pain. Allowed those seconds of grief, then used it as fuel. Whereas Dean drags his suffering into eternity. Mourns his best friend, and their lost potential. A stolen future. Years spent in denial. If he’d taken a chance earlier… at some point. “Cas,” Dean sighs, “he let himself… he confessed…” Explaining it was too difficult, but Sam needed to know. Jack, too. “He loved me, Sam.” Laughing, Dean wipes at his eyes. “He loved me, after all I – he still… he loved me, and that killed him.” Whispering, he repeats, “He loved me.”

Sam’s features shifted, journeying from shock to a pitying understanding. Rubs comfortingly at his back, sighing. “Loving you was what made him happiest?”

“Yeah… it was, it was so simple…” Dean uncurls, teetering, flirting with the idea of lying on his back. He and Jack trade a fleeting glance, Dean checking his reaction. Not surprised in the slightest. Kid’s too damned insightful. “Just admitting it was enough and… and you know what he said? He said he… Cas believed it was something he could never have?” His chest tightens, and Dean scoffs. “I don’t… how could that be – how could loving me be, I’m… how can I be Cas’s happiness? Out of all he could have had, and what he wanted was me – what I… what I thought I could never have.”

“Don’t say that Dean,” Sam admonishes, “you are worthy of having love.”

Shrugging, Dean turns from his and Jack’s heavy stares. Looks at the pooling egg yolk again; focuses on that spreading mess. “Cas said about as much, before the Empty… had this whole speech that I – it felt like I was being peeled away. Called me out for… it all feels so meaningless. Is that what it felt like, with Eileen? Being with someone who can see through you and make all this big stuff seem – well, seem not so big anymore?” Sam agrees, as much. “There we were Billie hot on our heels. Waiting for death, and he spits out the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. I almost forgot what was going on. It was just him and me… him seeing – seeing me. And you know what I did? Not a goddamn thing…”

“Dean…”

“I could barely speak, I – I was so scared,” Dean admits, “if you’d’ve been there Sam, the look of – look of finality that was there, alongside the love, and peace, and happiness. I always wanted to hear him say that, couldn’t predict him saying all of that… I would’ve traded it if it meant he’d stay. And I can – I get to have him in the only way we could. But he made up his mind, like with Jack. Took Billie down, and him, too. Leaving me there – alone – that it… when I finally said it back, I was too late.”

They echoed. Hung in the air. Mingled with Cas’s blood on his sleeve and the fresh tears pouring out of him. Shook Dean down to the very core of his being, barely hearing it past the low pitch of static filling his ears. Dean thought those words innumerably before, imagined different scenarios, played pretend in the comfort of his room where no one can see.

No one ever will, now.

“I…” Dean tries saying his truth. It doesn’t want to come out. He continues regardless, “I miss him, Sam. Why do we do this? Hurt everyone we’ve ever cared about? Hell, the whole world’s collateral damage because of us!” Exhausted, Dean gives in. Falls fully off the cliff, lying on the sidewalk. Arms spread beside him while he watches endless blue.

Sam squeezes his knee, “I miss her too. I miss them all.” He stands, adding another shadow. Jack’s advancing, too. Blanketing Dean in a strange temperature. Not cold, still there’s an absence of warmth he notes. “But it’s not on us. It’s Chuck. Always has been…”

“Then is this it?” Dean asks, “One last play, even if it kills us? Even if it can’t bring everyone back?”

“At least we died fighting, then.”

Dean cannot argue with this. He doesn’t feel too inclined to move yet. “For them,” he says, closing his eyes. “This isn’t about us, anymore. It’s about all of them. The world… our family… Eileen and – and Cas.”

Their shadows move. He senses them leave, sunlight returning. Bringing with it more memories. Of how it felt first hearing Cas say it. A natural glow that lit from within. Snuffed in Cas’s next breath, as Billie’s fist pounded on the door, and when the bitterness of Cas’s declaration hit his tastebuds. Dean grasps for that feeling, basking under the sun. Pretends it’s Cas giving him that gorgeous, soul-shattering smile. Encouraging him into his final battle. Telling him it’ll be over soon, he’ll be done, and that he loves him.

He loves him. He loves him. He loves him.

“I love you Cas.”

Dean will rise. Gather what little he, Sam, and Jack have and rush at Chuck until there truly is nothing left. Of this world. Or of them. But that’s later.

Right now, Dean dreams of his losses. Apologizes, one by one, faces blurring together as he starts counting strangers his mind saved for no purpose other than to make him carry more crosses. Never his, though.

Cas’s face shines uninterrupted, clearly, like the sun. There even as everything else fades. In the safety of his mind, where the Empty can’t steal him. In the safety of his heart, that Chuck can’t control. In his hands, wearing Cas’s blood like a badge of honor and pride.

And love.

#supernatural #spn #spn15 #15x18 despair #dean winchester #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #spn coda #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #destiel coda #deancas coda #sam winchester #jack kline #castiel

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uwua3 · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! I'm a new follower and I just love your writing so far!! You're really good at depicting The Whole Scene™ so you made me love my favs even more 😳 It's like my heart melts when I get to the extra soft parts 💖 If it's alright, may I request some fluffy hcs of Banri and/or Juza with a soft/baby-ish s/o who likes cute things? Or in general an s/o who's kind of opposite to either of them 👉🏻👈🏻 Thank you! 💞

hi!!! welcome to my writing blog~ :D i’m so happy you said that 🥺 (i appreciate the trademark no Suing in this household) i’m so glad when it gets soft it makes your heart go 💕💞💓💗💖💘💝 always feel like that!!! i’d be more than honored to baby the two tough boys of autumn~ they are secretly Baby no i do not take criticism but you’re welcome!!!

summary: this is the one time major misunderstandings work out for the best

warnings: swearing

author’s note: hello, everyone~ it’s been 4 days since i last posted a fic TT i’m so sorry!!! i hope this makes up for the absence~ it’s a bit long! please love banri and juza with all your heart ♡ fair warning, i design both readers to have dresses on but everything else is gender–neutral :D

word count: 6,482 (total) — 3,532 (banri), 2,950 (juza)

music: liar liar – oh my girl (banri), just right – got7 (juza)

sugar, spice, and everything nice!

🍁🥇 settsu banri

banri was thrifting and saw the most god–awful, terrible piece of clothing he had ever had the misfortune of seeing in his life

it was a bublegum pink sailor uniform esque shirt, embellished with the most pastel ribbons and lacy accessories ever, and was decorated to put harajuku to shame

“who the hell would want to buy this shit?” banri muttered to himself, holding it up to grimance at the girly details that hang from the ugliest shirt he had ever came across. before he could put it back to hide amongst the clothing rack, a gentle, barely noticeable tap on his shoulder made banri turn his head with a glare

“what—” banri’s eyes widened, his jaw slightly dropping. oh my god, if there was a human embodiment of the fucking shirt he was holding, you would literally be it

you were nervously smiling at him, clad in a pastel pink lolita–styled dress, with even more bows at the corset bodice and ruffles at your poofy skirt. you had the largest singular lace bonnet in your curled hair and adorned the biggest, widest circular glasses (they had to be fake). you clasped your hands together with a high–pitched laugh, banri wanted to disappear and never come back to the store again

how could people like you just exist? you walked around like a doll everyday and for what? banri looked down at his clothing for a second, all black again. maybe, he shouldn’t be talking if he was like death everyday...

“sorry~ but are you interested in that shirt?” you asked cutely, batting your eyelashes as you looked up at banri. he blinked, not realizing he was still holding the fashion industry’s worst abonimation as he quickly tossed it towards you, not bothering to check if you even caught it

“no, bye.” banri forced out, moving from the aisle to leave the godforsaken pastels and bright colors. it was all giving him a headache, there was no way this color spectrum ever existed to someone and they liked it. everybody move over because banri was gonna puke

banri flipped through more clothes, pushing through the racks with ease, trying to push the mental image of pink out of his mind until something landed on his head

quickly pulling it off with a scowl, banri deadpanned at the shirt. pink, sailor uniform, ugly ribbons and bows, check. it was that shirt again... what the—

you stood next to him, with the most angelic smile possible despite the passive aggressive look in your eyes. banri noticed your hair was slightly messed up, that he must’ve done something. he never thought he’d fight a pastel lolita in the middle of one of his favorite thrift stores, but here he was, glaring down at you like it was a big deal

“what do you want?!” banri cursed, about to throw the shirt back to you before you forced it in his hands, surprising him with the amount of force your short self managed to produce. you smiled even bigger, and banri suddenly knew he couldn’t cause a scene because no one believe him if you started a fight

“let me pick your clothes!” you offered, yet there was no room for disagreement. oh god, this was revenge for screwing up your look, wasn’t it? banri blanked again, about to tell you to fuck off before he called security (yeah, security on the most non–threatening person here), before you shoved another outfit into his arms

“go change! i want to see you in it!” you insisted, banri’s eye twitched as he took in the colors. all various shades of pink... you did know there were other colors right?

maybe it was because he knew you would start a scene if he didn’t try, but banri mumbled something about annoying people and their loud fashion sense before slipping into a dressing room. you clapped when banri begrudgingly agreed to it, pissing him off even more

(you didn’t know why you were forcing this stranger to be pastel for once. one look at his all–black attire and you felt a part of your soul die for a second)

when you heard the most dragged–out, emphasized swear behind the door, you knew you had to see it

“are you okay in there~?” you asked, waiting patiently outside with a devious smile. revenge was sweet, you almost forgot about how that shirt had messed up your hairstyle for the day

(banri suddenly regretted ever messing with you, you were the devil in pink)

“i know we just met, but fuck you.” banri deadpanned, stepping out from behind the curtain with the resignation of a quitter. you threw your hands over your mouth, stifling your snickers as you observed him top to bottom, wondering how you even fathomed such a creation

banri stood before you in the same sailor shirt, ribbons and bows alike, that somehow fit him. you had given him basic pink shorts that clased with his giant black boots (he made a stomping sound whenever he walked)

“i hate this, i am never wearing this again.” banri admitted without difficulty, expecting you to go away so he could shop in peace but you giggled, nodding in satisfaction at your mistake. he couldn’t believe it, he was embarrassing himself and sacrificing his dignity just because some moral conscious was aware he probably ruined part of your fit

“i’ll buy it for you!” you said and banri pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing with so much exhaustion even though it was the afternoon. is this how sakyo felt dealing with three kids all day? banri was this close to calling him up just to apologize for all the batshit crazy things he’s done

“no.” banri stated, not offering an explanation before turning around, about to head back into the dressing room before you stopped him, pouting your lips with a stubborn look

“come on! why not? i’ll do anything!” you pleaded, giving him your biggest puppy dog eyes as you kept repeating “please~” loudly. banri was about to tell you off before he noticed the store customers glancing at the odd duo, groaning before he rubbed his face

“anything?” banri asked, realizing his mischevious smirk was back on his face as you narrowed your eyes at him, wondering what the hell he was planning

when you hesitantly nodded, banri wolfishly grinned as he leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms and looking down at you (you would’ve burst into laughter at how banri tried to look intimidating in pink if you weren’t too plagued by your surprise at his sudden attitude change)

“okay, let me pick your next outfit.” banri said and you winced at the memory of his previous outfit, considering your options before shaking his hand, knowing whatever was about to happen would be one for your social media

it only took about two hours before you actually agreed to try anything on banri picked. it was all animal print, mismatched neon colors, and flannel. you refused every single time he held anything up, bruising banri’s ego even further

“jesus, you have no taste.” banri complained, just wanting to see the most pastel person he’s seen wear something normal for once. you two bickered easily, fighting like there was no tomorrow and warranting nervous glances from the store employees (who nearly alerted security when they saw you almost knock over a whole display chasing after banri)

finally, banri chose something you wouldn’t be caught dead in. it was close to what he had before, a black turtleneck with a silver–zip bomber jacket. he was nice enough to choose a black pleated skirt for you to wear with black oxford that had 3d white daisies

you actually liked it, believe it or not

in return, you adjusted your pick for him (much to banri’s relief when he muttered “thank god” as you put the pink sailor shirt back). you adjusted the theme to be a mixture of black & pink, picking a pink sweater with a black stitched heart surrounded by lace that read “i’ll kill you” and a pink button down underneath. you let him wear basic black pants (just so he wouldn’t have actually killed you) and found the cutest pink sneakers with black shoelaces!

by the time both of you finished, banri didn’t seem as mad and actually nodded at your choices

“not bad, punk.” banri joked as you swatted at his arm, ignoring the way he rolled his eyes at your antics. you two made your way into opposite changing rooms and went out at the same time, staring at each other wide–eyed for about three seconds before banri pushed his finger in the center of your forehead with a smirk

“see! you don’t look as bad now.” banri winked as you nearly kicked him, rubbing your forehead with a frown. you two fought all the way to the cash register, paying for each other’s new outfits as you wore them out the door, holding your originals in a bag

“happy now? gotta go or else my friends are gonna kill me.” banri rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into his pant pockets as he was about to go the opposite way. you grabbed his sleeve, impatiently shoving your phone in his face as he adjusted to seeing his own pissed off expression stare back at him

“you have to take a picture with me!” you insisted, your bubbly demeanor really not fitting your “goth” approach (courtesy of banri, of course)

banri glared, knowing this wasn’t apart of the deal before you feigned sadness, wrapping your arms around yourself as you looked around like it was really unfortunate

“oh... are you not photogenic? that’s too bad...” you mocked him, pretending to not notice banri’s fists clench as he furrowed his eyebrows. of course he was good at taking photos! he’d show you, alright

“give me your phone.” banri demanded, taking it without a warning and holding it at a distance with an effortlessly cool pose, doing his usual smirk with a casual peace sign

“say ‘worst day ever’.” banri snapped the picture when you got into frame, putting your chin on his shoulder due to your height difference as you smiled cutely, contrasting his entire vibe

when you actually went through the selfies, they were perfect. damn it! of course he was good at everything, including somehow making black look good on you and be the ultimate photographer

“let me tag you, these are actually...” you were about to say something else until you noticed he was walking away, not bothering to say goodbye as you called his name

“yo, banri! what’s your instagram handle?” you yelled, holding your phone up. banri didn’t even look behind him, just throwing up a single middle finger towards you as he turned the corner. what a typical teenage boy

it was so like him, you didn’t even bother chasing after banri as you posted the set of photos you took with him with the caption “worst day ever with this emo punk, someone find him for me”

when banri made it the dorms, he took out his phone for the first time in forever and felt the vibrations. he never got this many notifications, itaru was probably telling him to get online or he’d beat his ass—oh

oh, you didn’t

kazunari (of course it was him) had tagged him in a familiar picture, with too many emoticons and exclamation points to begin with. banri scrolled through the comments, all complimenting his cool face despite being in pink (banri already knew that) and... wait... shipping you two?!

you two were completely different! if you two stood next to each other, you’d be two opposite ends of any spectrum possible. yet, banri couldn’t help but read all the comments on your post, saying how you two looked good together

banri zoomed in on the photo and moved to your face and huh... maybe they were onto something...

banri clicked on your profile and as expected, it was all soft like sanrio personally made it. you were an angel in each of your pictures, posing with stuffed animals, pastel café sweets, and anything that looked like it came out of a kid’s show. banri was scrolling mindlessly, screenshotting some as he slouched on the sofa, exhaling sharply through his nose at some childish pun you had in your captions

when banri was near the beginning of your feed, it had happened. he accidentally tapped too fast (blame it on his gamer hands), liking your picture from years ago

banri paused. after a minute, banri slowly unliked your picture, shut the app, and threw his phone across the room. it landed on the other couch with a thump as banri slid down the seat with the loudest groan ever, covering his face as he refrained from screaming

that’s what he got for stalking your entire fashion page despite hating your style

the damage had been done. you followed him and instantly dm–ed him with the full, unedited selfies of you two

(banri didn’t follow back until like, a month later for no reason other than he was petty)

banri became your immediate go–to fashion guru, believe it or not. moving past his horrific sense of animal print, he actually wasn’t that bad at picking clothes (banri said it was something about growing up with an older sister)

whenever you needed advice on an outfit, you sent him a text and got a response within minutes (the more he hated it, the more you wore it). any time you went to another up and coming clothing store, he was by your side (unwillingly holding your bags with multiple threats). banri even took your pics for your page, pretending like it was a huge nuisance whenever you asked anyone to take a photo (they always came out awful and he claimed he was tired of hearing you whine 24/7)

you and banri’s interest in fashion was the foundation of a competitive and sarcastic friendship that formed between you two. you exaggerated your pink clothes by making sure to be as pastel as possible whenever you hung out with him, and banri made a point to be all–black and dark down to his silver earrings despite the weather

you posted him more and more on your socials despite his style clashing with your feed. your followers seemed to love him, hyping up his coolness even if you two bullied each other in the comments like an old married couple. it was becoming expected to see banri’s account tagged every time you gave him credit for the post (he always used it against you just to make you mad)

over time, when banri went to see you, he didn’t insult your style anymore even if he tried to (his insults were even half–assed). he took your bags on his own accord and acted like they didn’t weigh a thing. he started taking more photos of you on his own phone, like it wasn’t a big deal he had shocks of pastel throughout his rather dark camera roll

banri didn’t know when it happened, but the moment he looked at the pink sweater you bought him the first time he met you and didn’t react, he knew

oh shit, he didn’t hate pink (or you) anymore. he might have even... liked it

(he might have even liked you)

it was nearly closing time, the employee about to close up shop before banri was seen sprinting towards them, barely out of breath as he skidded to a stop near the concerned worker (understandably so, since it was dark and a whole teenager nearly trampled them)

“oh? banri? what are you doing so late?” the employee recognized the regular customer and banri almost threw up at what he was about to request. he took a moment to compose himself before banri sighed, gesturing towards inside the store

“you remember that really ugly pink sailor shirt that is probably a fashion crime?” banri asked and it didn’t take long before the worker nodded, even grimancing at the memory of such a loud shirt

“yes, no one is really willing to buy it—” the employee was interrupted by a wad of money from inside banri’s wallet as he went through it, wincing at his own purchase that he clearly didn’t want

“i’ll take it. keep the change.” banri went home that day with the same pink shirt he swore he would never wear again

the next day, banri was dressed and the whole dorm went silent. no one dared breathe a word, and banri rolled his eyes, crossing his arms

“what’s wrong? never seen a man wear pink before?” banri raised his eyebrows, casually getting ready to go see you with his backpack strapped. once again, everyone was staring at him (when he left the dorms, the room burst into hysterical laughter)

when you saw banri in that shirt, you suddenly knew. it was as if his behavior made sense, this is way of telling you he didn’t hate you as much as he acted to

as he came up to you pretending like he was still cool in the most pastel pink shirt ever, you couldn’t help but grab him by the sailor collar and give him something long overdue

(the whole mankai company spammed your page with fairy cyberbully comments and likes when you posted a picture of banri in the sailor shirt with the caption: “best boyfriend ever”)

(you ended up keeping the sailor shirt, banri claimed it suited you a lot more than it did for him) (damn, not even one insult about how ugly it was when you expressed how much you loved it)

ever since, your feed became more of punk pastel than anything. anything you wore, banri most likely had in black. you two even shared jewelery and banri often mixed up your earrings with his own (you loved his piercings and often bought the most intricate ear cuffs just to see them on him)

despite your opposite styles, you guys actually shared many of your items together like clothes, accessories like bucket hats and backpacks, even make up! (it took quite some time before banri accepted you painting his nails though, at first it was black, now he allows the occassional pink middle finger if you ask)

(banri liked it the most when you two had matching nails, it was just satisfying to see when holding hands)

you guys were also that gamer couple. you know what i’m talking about, if you guys had a gaming room together, half the room would be pastel pink and his set up was a basic all black

(you two had matching cat headphone sets, yours obviously the pink ones and banri pretended to hate his own pair of ears)

(they really weren’t that bad, he even began wearing it around his boys despite the jokes)

(“shut up, bastard! my partner likes them!”)

as expected, you two got stares every time you went out in public. while you were bright and happy from the anime sparkles around you to your adorable, enthusiatic energy, banri was always by you looming over everyone with a sharp glare and even more aggressive tongue

but this was unexpected: you had banri whipped. wrapped around your finger, even if he would never admit it

(he could go one moment cursing someone out, threatening a fight before he talked to you with a quieter, more relaxed tone. of course he could start shit with you, but for some reason, his voice and demeanor automatically became nicer when he saw you)

(this meant he could never stay mad at you for too long)

an example of banri being absolutely soft for you would be the time you were about to dye your hair and he wanted in

while he was helping you equally do the style and making sure it fit your liking, you giggled at the sight of your boyfriend in the mirror, focusing intently on your hair and the two seperate dyes

“ri, have you ever thought of black hair?” you asked nonchalantly as banri brushed the dye on your hair, giving him a moment to think as he shrugged

“eh, i already dye my hair. never thought about that color.” banri responded, already too busy making sure your hair was completely covered (he was a good hair stylist even if he had never done it before)

“what do you think about matching hairstyles?”

it felt like deja vu. when banri walked into the dorms again, everyone was staring at him. except this time, it wasn’t his sweater (he was back to all–black this time), but his head

oh my god, his hair. his vibrant, half–pink and half–black hair now

“you like that person so much! you dyed your hair that shade of pink?!” practically everyone in mankai was aware banri was whipped for his one and only angel, even if it looked like he came out of hell himself just to be with you

whenever banri saw pink now, he didn’t hate it anymore, and he especially didn’t hate you

🍁🍰 hyodo juza

when juza saw you, he felt like he was on a sugar rush from how cute you were

it was another day helping the director with her grocery shopping and an extra amount of time allowed the two to visit the new bakery that opened downtown

while izumi was making small talk with the server, juza awkwardly hung behind her as he tried to not make it obvious he just wanted to eat every single dessert in the family business

as he was counting the tiles on the floor (how did they design them to look like it was made out of candy?!), a swish of a puffy skirt moved past his line of sight as juza glanced up, feeling like he had downed a whole box of those valentine’s candy hearts at once

you were a waitress, happily bringing customer orders to their tables with the cutest smile ever. you wore a mint green & brown uniform with a big bow at your dress shirt collar, floating around like a fairy with a trey at your hand and gracefully taking requests in the other. if “you are what you eat” was true, you would’ve only ate sweet foods because you were that adorable

then, juza noticed you had some really nice hair clips and thought they were super cute

when you looked up from writing something on your notepad (he noticed it was really elegant cursive), you caught his eye and it was like love at first sight for juza

for you, not so much

you had made eye contact with the most intimidating, tallest boy in the entire bakery. you nervously smiled, waving before hurrying into the kitchen, feeling his stare on your back as you hid in the break room with a sigh of relief

just your luck! you had met some guy who probably didn’t even like sweets, he looked like he wanted to fight you or something! why was he staring at you like that? you anxiously peeked your head from the door frame and went back immediately when you noticed he was looking for you

oh no, was some thug trying to fight you? in a bakery?

when izumi finished up her conversation and bought a speciality cake to go, juza obediently followed her outside as he glanced back behind the counter, trying to spot your unique hair accessories again

as the bell above his head rung, he knew he had to come back to see you and find out where you bought those dessert–themed clips

at first, it began with casual visits, pretending to survey the area after explaining his association with mankai in the most bare minimum way possible. you didn’t struggle convincing someone else to cover your shift quickly when you noticed the scary tall guy up front. then, it became ordering random things to go and hoping he’d at least see you to ask a simple question. you did everything to hide behind tables, hoping you wouldn’t have to confront the gangster

(“he’s back again?! how many more desserts can he order?” you whined, poking your eyes over the front desk to see his frame entering past the window)

for some reason, juza couldn’t stop thinking of your hair clips. they were sweets, for goodness sake! nothing had made him happier, they were so tiny and adorable, they brought him instant serotonin even if he had some tough image

(maybe you were also super cute too, and he just needed an excuse to see you)

after weeks or so of failed attempts to catch you working, juza began sitting down and eating in the bakery, much to your misfortune

“how can i avoid him now if he spends a hour here every afternoon?!” you panicked even though juza’s back was turned to you. he happily ate his food, getting distracted by the quality of the sweets to notice you were basically staring at him

“are you sure he wants something from you? he comes here every day, he seems like a nice boy.” the owner vouched in his favor after talking to the offstandish teen at the register. sure, he was a bit rough around the edges, but he was much more respectful than any of the rotten kids who came in the shop!

ugh! the baker didn’t get it, there was no way someone like that didn’t want to start something with you!

out in the dining area, it took all the sugar in his body to actually make juza ask for a very specific server in detail. when someone had brought him his strawberry milk, juza cleared his throat with an awkward attempt at a smile (it looked more like a grimance than anything)

“uh... do you know if, a server with candy hair pins is here?” juza murmured, looking down at the table with an embarrassed blush as the waiter didn’t think anything of it, calling your name without another warning. you squeaked, dropping behind the counter as juza tilted his head in confusion

(why were you hiding? was there something wrong? what happened? juza thought, unaware he was actually the problem)

when you heard a series of footsteps stop near you, you hesitantly looked up from your crouching position and saw juza staring down at you with a concerned expression. his eyebrows were furrowed and he had his hand out

you took his hand and closed your eyes, fearing for your life. was he gonna yank you to your feet? push you over? trip you so you’d fall for real? you weren’t ready for a fight!

yet, none of that happened. juza gently lifted you up and made sure you were fine by observing your outfit to see if anything was wrinkled, muttering something about being careful and staying safe

you blinked, trying to process how incredibly wrong you were. juza was perhaps the nicest customer you had met in your entire career as a server, even taking the time to actually confirm you were okay with no ill intentions whatsoever

(suddenly, you remembered all the times you actively avoided juza and felt the guilt as he nodded at you, unintentionally lowering his height so he’d seem more approachable)

“sorry to bother you, but uh...” juza trailed off, trying to figure out how to phrase his next sentence. before you could respond, his hand landed on your hair and a beat of silence passed between you two

“cute.” juza forced out, and wanted to slap himself. cute?! no, say cute hair clips, ask where you got them! juza was internally panicking and you were doing the same as you looked up at him with wide eyes

it was so awkward and humiliating, juza couldn’t pull his hand away because his whole body was on shutdown. oh god, what could he do now? this was possibly the worst first impression in human history

“i’m cute?” you warily asked, staring at him with a slightly amused expression as juza blanked. you felt his hand subtly shake as it was your turn to be concerned over how red his face was

“no—i mean, yes, but, not like that! i mean...” juza finally lifted his fingers to poke at your hair decorations and you let out a sound of understanding, pointing at your own clips

“oh? you mean these?” you asked and juza nodded, like he was extremely thankful you understood him. he pushed his hands behind his back, nervously leaning back and forth on his feet as he looked away like the cupcake display was the most interesting thing in the world (it probably was)

“where did you, uh, get them?” juza quietly questioned and you giggled, patting them proudly as you stood a little bit taller from the unintentional praise

“i made them! thank you for asking!” you smiled, about to move away before juza accidentally held onto your arm, releasing his hold when he saw your shock. he definitely needed to learn how to be more socially acceptable one of these days or else he was gonna get in big trouble

“can i commission you?” juza muttered and there began your friendship with the big tough delinquent juza who really adored small, cute things (like yourself!)

any time juza was particularly fascinated with a dessert on display, you would show him a sketch sample of accessories you could make based on his favorites. surprisingly, juza was very comfortable with expressing his love for sugar because you felt the same way!

every day when juza came to visit the bakery, he’d always have something new to say about your homemade accessories and seemed fascinated by your adorable fashion sense

(he had been particularly obsessed with these dangly earrings you made that looked like little dango sticks. it was like a child had been playing with your ears the entire time)

it was about a month later when you made the final designs of the hair clips juza ordered and you knew they were your best work yet

you had multiple favorite desserts and fruits of his molded in clay or shaped in resin on a various sizes of clips and pins. you decorated them with the sole goal in mind to see how pretty they would look against juza’s dark purple hair

this would be the first time you two met out of the bakery, so when juza came and saw you didn’t look any different (hair accessories and all), he thought you were so sweet

juza’s entire face practically lit up when you presented him the clips. foods like ice creams, lollipops, and popsicles were all accessible for him as he struggled to find the words to show his appreciation for your work

you two sat on a bench in the park as juza gently took the clips, turning them carefully (you looked down and almost laughed at how tiny they looked in his hands)

when you asked for a model picture for your business page, juza’s shaky hands were clearly untrained in the art of hair clips as he put one in an awkward position and tried to look up to see what it looked like

“uh... i’m not very good at this.” juza admitted, embarrassed as he stared at his feet. it didn’t take you long to take over, moving closer to giddily pin juza’s hair back

(it was soft, you were almost jealous of how everything about him was the embodiment of “gentle giant”)

“it’s okay! here, let me.” you insisted and juza gratefully passed you your work, staring at everything but you as his cheeks became even redder. you were so close and leaning over him, trying to put them in cute positions as your fingers ran through his hair

(juza felt like the first time he saw you; like he was on a sugar rush as he noticed how nimble your fingers were on him)

when you were done and leaned back with admiration, juza looked at you with a small smile as he reached up to touch the designs you put in his hair, feeling the handmade pins against his calloused fingers

“cute~” you lifted your phone up, about to take a picture. juza didn’t know why, but he covered the camera with his palm as he lowered it, looking at you with the same focus he had everytime he saw you

“you’re cute.” juza froze. oh gosh, did he actually just confess that?! you were surprised, feeling his hand over yours. yet, you didn’t want to pull away. in fact, you wish your phone was out of the way so you could completely hold his hand

“you’re cute, too.” you responded, using your other hand to brush the loose strands of hair back from his face as you smiled

when juza came back to the dorms with the cutest, most pastel, childish hair clips, no one had time to say a word as he ran to his room and threw himself onto his bed. juza rolled onto his back, placing both his hands on his hair and putting them in front of his face as if he couldn’t believe it

he just held your hand! he was your boyfriend now! you liked him even if he was the complete opposite of you! juza silently shoved his pillow over his face, kicking the air uselessly

as your boyfriend, you and juza had much more in common than you thought. juza loved your cute sense of style, always trying his best to compliment your aesthetic by wearing more of your hair accessories and modeling for your page (apparently, he had the perfect hair color for it)

(he even let you put his hair down for certain posts, his usually slicked–back hair laying flat against his forehead as he didn’t look at you, his head turned as he blushed. “it’s not that bad, right?” he’d ask and you always complimented him no matter what)

although juza kept his rather grunge neutral look, he admired the way you were so bright and liked calling you dessert–related endearments just because you were the embodiment of sweets. he 100% thought you were the most adorable thing in his life and had to be made of pure sugar

in order to support your style, juza liked coordinating his clips with yours. he’d text you the night prior just to gain insight on what type of look you were going for and come to your bakery with something similar (even if your coworkers liked poking fun at his serious, stoic face that only changed around you)

he also came in with a new phonecase and you nearly fainted from how cute he was. he had a case that had those little squishes on them, he admitted he liked feeling them whenever he got a little anxious (it was such a cute habit, you had bought him a whole stock and it was like a little kid on christmas morning)

(you also made earrings out of a pair, he would not stop touching them)

whenever he noticed kids staring, juza never failed to advertise your business like his life depended on it. yes, your customer base actually did grow, somehow thanks to your most unlikely model yet

however, juza wasn’t the only one who had adjusted his style, you did too!

you two actually had had matching letterman jackets, yours in pink & white with a “j” in large letters and his black & grey with your first name initial as well. sometimes, you guys even switched just for the fun of it

you even got to wear his usual “10” purple jacket every now and then, even though he never said anything about liking you in his clothes. he’d just casually leave it around your place, acting like you wouldn’t notice the dark outerlayer in your mass of pastels

as you two were dating, juza wanted to be the best boyfriend possible for you as he wondered what to get you for your anniversary coming up. as juza subconsciously rubbed his clips with a thoughtful look, he suddenly had a lightbulb moment

that’s it! he should make you something in return

when you began seeing juza less and less around the bakery, you were nervous as what he was up to. juza barely hid anything from you since he was such a poor liar, so it was clear when he avoided talking about what he did after school now

in reality, juza was becoming frustrated with how big his hands were. every time he tried to make something, he was too forceful and caused the line to snap. the amount of beads he had lost at this point was laughable as juza tried to not knock over the bracelet–making kit on the table

(it took yuki coming by and taking pity on his crouched over form for him to go somewhere, muttering to himself about how he needed this to be perfect or else he’d die)

(juza always had a strong respect for jewelery makers, but it increased much more once he realized how clumsy and small his attenton span was)

just when you thought juza had forgotten your anniversary coming up, he randomly texted you out of no where asking if you were free. you looked at your shift and agreed, knowing you needed a break and not questioning a thing

when you walked out of the bakery, juza was already there with a small bag, his foot tapping against the sidewalk. before you could even ask how he’d been, he shoved it into your hand with an embarrassed blush (he was so nervous, he swore his heart skipped a beat)

“happy anniversary.” juza mumbled when you opened the small mesh, drawstring bag with a gasp. you slowly pulled out the beaded bracelet with a shocked look, seeing multiple silver dessert–themed pieces hang. there were mainly purple and black beads with four white blocks spelling out “juza”

juza showed you his wrist and he was wearing a beaded bracelet in a similar style, except his was your aesthetic with various pastel shades and your name on his string ending with a cute heart

you teared up and juza winced, rubbing the back of his neck as awkwardly looked away

“that bad, huh?” before juza could die of embarrassment, you shook your head and pulled him into a hug, surprising him when you stood on your tippy–toes to give him a kiss on the cheek

“i love it, this is the sweetest gift ever.”

“only for you.”

when juza slipped the bracelet onto your wrist, you knew you were never gonna take it off

who knew the scary, intimidating boy from the bakery was the sweetest person alive?

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katcadecascade · 4 years ago

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Waiting for These Eyes to Open (ORV oneshot)

*spoilers up to chapter 226

Summary:

He finds himself reaching the 73rd Demon Realm with an archangel, taking ownership of an industrial complex in Kim Dokja’s name, and confronting Asmodeus. Yoo Jonghyuk could not see himself ever doing this for anyone, mostly because no one else would get in this much trouble.

But for some reason he did this all. All to see Kim Dokja again. And that rat bastard is sleeping. This is all exhausting to think. Thankfully, there’s a chair nearby.

If given the chance, Yoo Jonghyuk would avoid the Demon Realm as much as possible. Ever since Kim Dokja became his companion, those chances were never in his sight.

After the confrontation with Asmodeus, an encounter that literally began fracturing Yoo Jonghyuk’s body, it took a while to recover and search for Kim Dokja.

That rat bastard was all the way over in the other Industrial Complex, a place using his name much to the annoyance of Yoo Jonghyuk. Then to top it off, Kim Dokja wasn’t even awake when he finally found him.

In the back room of a clock workshop, Kim Dokja is lying in a spare bed covered in story packs. The sight almost makes Yoo Jonghyuk wince. He is not an expert at story packs but he knows it will be disastrous if a story or more are not compatible with the patient.

The woman treating him, Aileen Makerfield, was hesitant and wary about letting Yoo Jonghyuk see the patient while she injects the day’s dose of story.

“Kim Dokja told me to let him die for an hour,” she grumbled. Her steady hands carefully wrapped new bandages around an arm. Story fragments, sentences really, had spilled out from an open gash. “Now he needs sleep for days.”

It’s not often Yoo Jonghyuk stays by someone’s side when they’re recovering. It almost feels like a clique to be sitting by a sleeping Kim Dokja.

Actually, it feels utterly strange to see Kim Dokja with his eyes closed for more than two seconds.

The last time he watched Kim Dokja close his eyes is when he first became the Demon King of Salvation and died in Yoo Jonghyuk’s arms.

Yoo Jonghyuk is not sure if he feels relief to see Kim Dokja’s current state. The sickly paleness, the various tubes injected into his veins, the heartbeat monitory is louder than the little breaths Kim Dokja takes in. He can barely see the slow rise and fall of his chest, the only movement of the sleeping man.

It’s eerily to see his eyes shut when Yoo Jonghyuk expects those long eyelashes to flutter and see the vast emotions play out in Kim Dokja’s dark eyes.

So far, nothing in his three regression rounds compare to Kim Dokja’s eyes. It’s filled with something Yoo Jonghyuk cannot describe.

“At first I thought he was a smart man, a hero even.”

He nearly forgot Aileen was still here. She’s adjusting the placements of story pack but her attention flickers to him.

“Then he begins to do crazy, risky plans,” Aileen said in a tone of a disapproving mother. “Kim Dokja did it all with cool composure.”

“That is Kim Dokja,” Yoo Jonghyuk confirmed.

Aileen shook her head, “He wasn’t like that when the other Demon King entered the realm.”

Yoo Jonghyuk excused, “It was Asmodeus.”

She raised an eyebrow and in that moment, Aileen looked too similar to Han Sooyoung as she continued, “He was frantic, desperately needed to get to the Gilobat Industrial Complex. I think he even tried to bargain with the constellations too before he decided on this plan.”

He refuses to break eye contact and defiantly says, “All his plans involve him dying.”

That gets Aileen gob smacked, squinting at him and then to her patient. She’s acting as if they’re both madmen and honestly that cannot be blamed.

While the story expert is caught off guard, Yoo Jonghyuk returns to staring at Kim Dokja, remembering all the times he sacrificed himself for the party.

It’s frustratingly an occurring pattern. This man does the same thing over and over again and expects the results to be the same.

Kim Dokja expects his friends to be alive and yes, he’s accurate on that part but it is Yoo Jonghyuk who has to deal with the aftermath.

Those individuals have all soften their emotions for this one man who has left them behind with the measly promise of his return. Annoyingly, they wait.

Yoo Jonghyuk, on the other hand, is impatient.

And so he finds himself reaching the 73rd Demon Realm with an archangel, a terrible idea; taking ownership of an industrial complex in Kim Dokja’s name, because Kim Dokja is not the only one who steals names; and confronting Asmodues, the reason Yoo Jonghyuk regressed into the third round.

Yoo Jonghyuk could not see himself ever doing this for anyone, mostly because no one else would get in this much trouble. But for some reason he did this all.

All to see Kim Dokja again.

And that rat bastard is sleeping.

This is all exhausting to think. Thankfully, there’s a chair nearby.

“He’s not waking up soon,” Aileen has gather up her tools and prepares to leave, “Are you sure you want to stay?”

Without hesitation, Yoo Jonghyuk nods.

“I’ll get you some tea,” she offers with a smile. “Keep an eye on him.”

As she leaves, Yoo Jonghyuk feels impulsive.

The stillness and paleness in Kim Dokja’s face has been bothering him since he entered the room. Now with no audience, aside from the constellations unfortunately, Yoo Jonghyuk hovers a hand over Kim Dokja.

He ignores the slight shake in his hand right before his fingers touch the softness of Kim Dokja’s cheeks. Yoo Jonghyuk expected the skin to feel clammy or cold, instead the unconscious man is warm.

A tiny part of Yoo Jonghyuk relaxes, more so when he begins to trace shapeless figures between the edge of Kim Dokja’s closed eyes and his chin. He carefully pinches a stray eyelash and Yoo Jonghyuk freezes when the eye moves underneath its lid.

Then awkwardly, Yoo Jonghyuk retracts his hand when the sleeping eyes flutter open. For a moment, his heart stops beating as Kim Dokja tilts his head, slowly blinking as the corner of his pink lips form a small smile.

“My protagonist,” Kim Dokja breathes softly, as if painting on silk.

Yoo Jonghyuk ignores the weird noise his throat makes and quickly examines Kim Dokja. He spots the story pack Aileen was securing into the canteen.

It’s labeled Vulnerability of a Cursed Dreamer.

A memory pops up in Yoo Jonghyuk’s brain. It’s of Yoo Mia demanding him to read her a bed time story. It was Sleeping Beauty.

“Shut your mouth Kim Dokja.”

Doing the opposite, he continued, “My Supreme King.”

“Kim Dokja,” he warns lowly.

A tiny huff of air exits Kim Dokja, barely qualifying as a laugh as he says, “My Yoo Jonghyuk.”

Those words tug onto something inside Yoo Jonghyuk. The tone of voice alone shakes Yoo Jonghyuk’s core because has never heard his name spoken with so much tenderness.

Still surprising him, Kim Dokja awed, “You’re not dead.”

“Bastard, you don’t get to say that,” Yoo Jonghyuk instantly shot.

A hot boiling frustration always stews inside him, reserved to those deserving of his fury. His rage is snuffed when Kim Dokja’s smile brightens.

The frustration is back when Kim Dokja attempts to sit up.

“Don’t get up,” he orders, placing a hand at Kim Dokja’s collarbone.

Yoo Jonghyuk is too familiar with feeling the skin here, where he can easily slide up to grasp the neck. This is a new body so there is no evidence of times where he gripped Kim Dokja by the neck and tossed him into oblivion.

This time though, Yoo Jonghyuk secures Kim Dokja in place, making sure he won’t die here.

“I’m happy that you didn’t regress.”

“Of course you are.”

The last time he thought about regressing was at the eighth scenario, the Ultimate Sacrifice. It was the ultimatum and it made sense for him to regress up until Kim Dokja convinced him not to. Kim Dokja had said that this world line should be worth protecting.

He once believed early on, if he regresses, there could be a better chance in the next round. Even now after Kim Dokja’s talk, Yoo Jonghyuk had the thought that maybe he could use the knowledge in this round and be better in the fourth round.

Maybe Yoo Jonghyuk can stop Kim Dokja from dying so much in the fourth round.

Kim Dokja interrupts his thoughts, as he always does, and gives off the suspicious that he can actually read Yoo Jonghyuk’s mind.

“I don’t know what will happen to me if you regress.”

He blinks. Remaining calm, Yoo Jonghyuk states, “You were in the next subway car.”

Kim Dokja shakes his head, it jostles a story pack on his shoulder and Yoo Jonghyuk reaches over to secure it back on.

“It’s not that simple, it can’t be. It is never simple for me.” A cloudy gaze goes over his eyes, full of something Yoo Jonghyuk wants to describe but cannot for the life of him. Mirroring that desperation, Kim Dokja frowns, “I want this. I want to reach the end of this story.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“Would you leave me, Yoo Jonghyuk?”

It’s an unexpected question and yet this has been asked before.

Lee Seolhwa, his wife in the previous regression round, worried about his attribute.

Both she and Kim Dokja wondered about his mindset, as if regressing was a drug he’s addicted to and not a necessary last resort.

Previously, he wondered why Lee Seolhwa asked because by the next round she had forgotten who he was. Hell, she poisoned him in this round because he was careless around someone who became important to him.

Now applying that situation with Kim Dokja is a headache.

“…a regression without you sounds tempting.”

“Be honest.”

Again, Yoo Jonghyuk cannot read the emotion in Kim Dokja’ eyes. If he had to guess there is a bit of terror but that should be preposterous. Never before has Kim Dokja ever been scared of him.

Yet, Yoo Jonghyuk has an ache in his chest at the idea of Kim Dokja in fear. Be it fear of Yoo Jonghyuk or for him, it is an uneasy feeling.

It truly means that Kim Dokja puts so much trust into Yoo Jonghyuk.

He’s used to this responsibility, ignores it mostly because it is from the masses and feels its weight in his bones. But it is different coming from Kim Dokja.

Kim Dokja who knows him and his future, who knows the depths of Yoo Jonghyuk and the rest of the party. Kim Dokja who became a constellation, became a Demon King, and became Yoo Jonghyuk’s companion.

In life and death, Yoo Jonghyuk cannot imagine ever leaving Kim Dokja’s side.

With raw honesty, Yoo Jonghyuk says, “If there is a chance that I will lose you, I will not regress Kim Dokja.”

“Yoo Jonghyuk,” he smiles so sweet, “you’re a cool protagonist.”

He sucks in a sharp breath of air, not becomes this is touching but because Yoo Jonghyuk is keeping together his restraint to not throttle Kim Dokja’s neck.

It is very tempting due to how stupid Kim Dokja is.

Yoo Jonghyuk pinches the bridge of his nose, composing himself into civility. It is a tall order when it comes to moments like this. He places his hands on his lap to berate this idiot when something catches his eyes.

The story pack on Kim Dokja’ shoulder. It is labeled Loose Cognition of a Bad Luck Charm.

Does that mean…

He blinks a few times, processing and in that silence, Kim Dokja has closed his eyes and breaths slowly.

Sighing, Yoo Jonghyuk strokes hair away from Kim Dokja’s face. “Sleep and forget this conversation.”

For the next two peaceful days, Yoo Jonghyuk waits for his companion to walk up. He is half-worried if Kim Dokja remembers what they discussed. His paranoia is for naught at the end of the week when he meets Kim Dokja’s eyes.

They are wide and shocked and happy and if Yoo Jonghyuk could read his mind, he’d bet Kim Dokja is thinking, ‘You are alive.’

Bastard, Yoo Jonghyuk thinks as they catch up and at the end of it, he tells him, “Let’s go back to Earth, Kim Dokja.”

#my fic #yoo jonghyuk #kim dokja #orv fic #orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #dokhyuk

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detroitbydark · 4 years ago

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Fox and Mouse Finale 1/2

Characters: Commander Fox x Mouse (reader), and more Jedi/clones/politicians than you can shake a stick at.

Summary: Fox makes plans and then remakes them...

A/N: Ladies and Lads this is it! A chapter so stupid long it required it be split in two pieces. I'm not going to make you wait and I'll be posting both this evening. I'm feeling really sentimental because this is the longest thing I've ever written and completed. I couldn't have done it without y’all. Your support and comments have helped me get through the tough periods of writing and the stress in my life as of late. This is for you guys! Thank you. I love you!

Special thanks as always to @skdubbs and @crimson-dxwn for being there to listen to me and help me every step of the way. You are both absolutely amazing!

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The crick in his neck is the least of Fox’s worries when he wakes. It wasn’t like he could call the tossing and turning he’d done for the last six standard hours much of a rest. After returning to his room, tail tucked between his legs, Fox hadn’t been able to unwind. He couldn’t lay his head down without a million thoughts racing through his head.

He loved her.

Yes, it was something he’d known for a while, maybe even longer than he was willing to admit. He loved her more than he loved himself. For a long time he’d thought that’s how love was supposed to work. You sacrificed yourself for the things you loved. Now he’s not sure.

Mouse loved him. It was something he hadn’t hoped for, but after being near her, feeling her lips against his own, seeing the depth of emotion in her sad eyes as she’d kicked him out of her room - he didn’t question it. The issue he finds himself struggling with is hard to put into words. If he couldn’t love himself, if he didn’t think he was worthy, could he truly love her? Mouse was willing to accept him at his most broken, for his flaws and his lingering self doubt. If he couldn’t do the same for himself-

The thoughts kept him up the better of the night. He’d lost count of the times he’d walked to his door intent on barging into her room… and doing what? That’s where the plan got dicey and inevitably where he decided against any further action until first light.

Of course, by the time he’d fallen asleep he’d been so exhausted that he’d missed first light. It wasn’t until a pair of noisy male tik-tak birds jostled for the affections of a female outside his window that Fox woke.

His first thoughts were of Mouse as he shooed the noisy creatures from his open window.

He didn’t enjoy the smell of failure -or sweat - that permeated the air around him. He took a sonic shower so fast he would have set a record back on Kamino.

He focused on the words he’d say to her. The words that would make her see that he was sorry. That his shabla behavior was a fluke that he could and would correct. That he would spend the rest of his life making it up to her if she’d just give him one more chance.

He pauses as he slips into his armor.

The rest of his life.

He didn’t want her for a moment in time. He wanted her for all time, at his side through whatever life would throw at them. Resolve settles over him, the kind that a lifetime training for battle honed. There’s a certain peace to it.

Darasuum.

Like any good soldier he makes a plan. When she fails to answer her door when he knocks, he goes to plan B. He knocks again. Louder.

When that doesn’t work, he moves on to plan C.

There’s a small cadre of Jedi and Clones eating a quiet breakfast on the veranda. The sun is just peeking over the waterfalls in the distance. Cody and General Secura are speaking in quiet tones over two cups of caf. General Kenobi sits nursing a cup of tea staring out over the placid lake. Like, a sore thumb, Bly sticks out, devouring whatever pastry and fruit had been piled on his plate like he was a cadet late for morning exercises. He looks up in time to see Fox and give him an encouraging smile and a wave over before taking a bite of some sort of plump sausage even Fox found to be too large.

“Vod!” The golden yellow hues of Bly’s facial tattoos seem to glow brighter in the sun. “Su cuy’gar!” he greets happily.

Fox pauses, then pulls out a chair, grabbing a cheese filled pastry from his batch mate’s plate. “Su cuy’gar,” he greets in return. “After the sounds I was hearing last night I wasn’t sure I’d see you in one piece this morning.”

“Don’t be fooled. I’m held together by the Force and a prayer. My Aayl’ika does nothing in halves.”

Fox, even with the pressure of his impending conversation with his own love weighing on his shoulders, can’t help but chuckle as he steals the other Commander’s mug of caf.

“Oya!”

Bly snatches the mug back and hot caf sloshes over the edges. The commander of the 327th makes a grunt of discomfort before leaning in and sucking the drops of spilt caf from the space between his thumb and index finger.

Fox smothers a laugh with a large bite of pastry. Bly raises an eyebrow before his eyes narrow in on Fox’s mouth.

“I know red is your color,” Bly grabs a napkin and tosses it to Fox, who catches it easily, “but I didn’t believe you were a lipstick man, regardless of color.”

One swipe across his mouth brings back a small smear of star cherry red lipstick. Mouse’s lipstick. He must have missed it in the shower.

“Since I don’t see the lovely dal I’m taking it either went very well or very poorly.”

Fox takes another swipe and places the napkin down when it comes back clean. “It’s a work in progress”

Bly gives him a serious look, the easy going manner from a moment ago pushed to the back burner.

“Tell me, vod. How do you and General Secura-“ Aayla glances up when she hears her name. Fox offers a tight smile. Bly shoots her a wink. “How do you do it?”

“Well you see Fox’ika, when a clone loves a Jedi-“

“Fierfek! Bly I’m being serious!”

“We’re honest with one another” Aayla’s smooth Ryl accent interrupts whatever comment Bly was getting ready to make. She moves gracefully over from her previous spot near Cody. The Marshal Commander has now joined his Jedi staring peacefully out across the water. Fox doesn’t doubt he’s listening in.

He isn’t sure whether he should be thankful for Secura’s intervention or not. Never having had a Jedi of his own, he still has moments where he finds their presence overwhelming. Aayla looks about as intimidating as a loth kitten this morning in leggings and a loose tunic, somehow looking incredibly chic and supremely comfortable all at once. Her eyes find his, searching for something as she sits down next to her Commander. “We’ve had to learn the finer points of communication.” She looks to Bly. Adoration is written across her delicate features as her lekku twitch happily. “We have to be able to trust each other.”

“It’s work,” Bly says, taking Aayla’s hand and placing a soft kiss along her knuckles ,“but we make it work.”

“And after the war?”

Aayla sighs. “We will cross that bridge when we come to it, but I don’t know if my loyalty can remain with the order alone. Once the Force has shown you something-“ she pauses and smiles softly at Fox, “The Force works in mysterious ways, would you agree?”

“General Secura.” Cody’s voice comes from across the veranda because - of course - he was listening, “I believe you forgot to mention respect.”

Aayla smothers a smile. “Oh yes, respect is quite important.”

Fox is very quickly beginning to feel the nonexistent walls close in around him. “Yes. Yes. “ he grumbles, “I’m a lousy di’kut.”

“You said that - not us - Commander,” General Kenobi chimes in without turning his head away from the lake spread out before him.

“Beg your pardon Generals, Commanders, but I don’t need the Force to tell me that I made a fool of myself last night.” He pushes up from his seat, stealing the caf back from Bly and finishing off the dregs. The other Commander makes a disgruntled sound. “Now, if just one of you could point me in the correct direction I have some-

“Groveling?”

“Pleading?”

“Apologizing?”

The voices all mingle together as they chime in and Fox sighs, rubbing his temple.

“Yes, all of that and then some. Just-“ he lets out an exasperated sound “-has anyone seen her?”

——-

Mouse hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Really, she’d just hoped to get away for a bit. She needed to separate herself from the faces that looked so much like his and the sad looks they’d given her as she’d picked at her breakfast.

She needed to know that Fox wasn’t just a few easy steps across the hall. She’d stood with her hands flat against the door too many times for her liking last night. It was only a few steps and she could be wrapped up in him, repercussions be damned.

Mouse wanted to pretend that her ultimatum may not end with a choice she wasn’t happy with. If Fox decided he couldn’t - or wouldn’t - do what she’d asked, well, she wasn’t sure how she’d handle it.

The field, nearly half a klik from the estate, had become a favorite over the last few months. Close enough to the waterfalls to hear the rush of water over the edge - and catch some mist on a windy day - but rarely visited by locals. It was peaceful.

The summer grasses had easily surpassed the height of her knees weeks ago and - with a little more rain and sunshine - would soon be at her waist. For now it was just long enough to make a makeshift nest when she lay a blanket down. The green stems stood proudly around their brothers and sisters squashed by the worn quilt she spread out.

The sun shone softly through a sea of gossamer clouds, its rays warm and soothing as she lay down with a datapad to review Padmé’s personhood bill in its entirety. Mouse couldn’t help the pull of sleep. The legalese of the document and warm kiss of sun paired with the sleeplessness from the night before had her first drowsing then, finally, blessedly sleeping sheltered from the world and her problems that lay outside her ring of softly swaying pastoral grass and millaflowers.

Her dreams begin as nothing in particular. Another blessing in disguise. Nothing bad troubles her sleep, though nothing good brings tenderness either. Instead she catches glimpses of Coruscant, of Fox and the other boys of the Guard, of a tiny green-skinned twi’lek girl. Images of Luke and Leia older and toddling around with their mother and father laughing and following behind them. Slowly, the boys are filtered out, then the Amidala-Skywalker clan, even little Me’kar fades away. All of it is gone and Mouse finds herself alone in front of a tiny cottage. It has a vegetable garden along one side and rows of flowers along the other. She hears her name whispered softly, the warm rumble of it so familiar.

“Mouse.”

“Mouse”

“Mouse.”

Her eyes flutter open, and she squints into sun spilling around a vaguely humanoid shape while her eyes attempt to adjust to the sudden change.

“I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Fox.

She’d know his voice anywhere. Hope springs to life in her chest. He’d come to find her. Surely that had to be a good thing, right? She moves to stand, getting as far as sitting before he makes a disgruntled sound and angles himself down and onto her blanket. She watches him look around, his head barely above the tall grasses surrounding them. His gaze moves to her discarded shoes and bare feet, slowly traveling up over her calves where her dress has ridden up in her sleep. She blinks, trying to push the residual fog of sleep from her head. Fox’s gloved hand reaches out and skims over her ankle. That electric spark she’d felt at his touch last night is still there.

“Fox?” He won’t look her in the eyes. The feeling of his touch is missed when he pulls his hand away. “Fox-“ she tries again, hiding and failing to hide the slight quiver in her voice.

He holds his hand up. “I have things to say and I need you to listen to every one. I’m- I’m not sure if you’re going to like what I have to say.”

Mouse nods slowly. He’s more his namesake now, more animal than she’s ever seen him. She moves slowly to rise to her knees, afraid the wrong move, a sudden quick one, will see him breaking away.

“I can do that,” she offers slowly. Fear at what he has to say leaves a thick knot in her stomach. “If we’re going to do this, though, I need to see your eyes. Ok?”

Fox makes another sound, a small grunt of assent as she rises on her knees and puts her hands to either side of his bucket. She releases the locks, hears the gentle hiss of release. His features are schooled when she lifts it off, but she knows her Fox. Whatever he has to say is eating at him. She can see it in the dark circles that rest underneath his eyes, the exhaustion that looks almost permanent in the soft brown eyes she adores so much. Always the caregiver, she fights the urge to pull him down, make him lay his head in her lap. She wants to card her fingers through the new growth of hair, brush through the locks that were just beginning to curl and swirl at the ends until he falls asleep.

But she also needs to know what he has to say. She needs her answer so her heart can shatter or mend because whatever it is, there will be no in between. Not with him. Not with them.

She watches him swallow, look at the sky and the soft clouds above them before bringing his attention back to her.

“I’ve made mistakes in my life,” he begins, “Some of them widely known. You- you are the mistake I regret the most.”

Mouse attempts to turn away, but she can’t. His words- it feels like she’s watching a hover train come off the rails in slow motion. Fox glances down at his hands, squeezes them into fists.

“I-“ his eyes travel back to hers, pinning her in place “I’ve called you my precious girl more times than I can remember, because to me you are the most precious gift the maker has ever deemed fit to give me. But you're not a girl. You’re a woman,. A smart, strong, caring woman and I called you a girl. When things got hard, I treated you like one, like I had never made a mistake, like I knew what was best for the both of us.”

Mouse can see it in the little ways he moves, the clench of his fingers and the way his eyes trail to her shoulder, the scar covered by the thin summer dress, that it is taking everything for him to muscle through this.

“Fox, why are you saying this?”

“Because I need you to know.” His jaw is set in a sharp line. “I need you to know that I’ve thought about you every day since you left Coruscant, that I dream about you every night. I need you to know that I’m afraid to be around you, that even with the chip gone and that- that hut’uun,” spitting the word out as if it tastes bad in his mouth, “dead, I’m scared that it’s not enough, that someone is going to say the wrong thing and I’m going to do something you won’t come back from - and there’ll be no field of wildflowers for me to find you sleeping in, because you’ll be dead and it will be my fault”

Mouse grabs his hand, forces her fingers between his until he relents and lets her hold it. Her other reaches up, strokes along his right temple and feels the telltale ridge of scar under her fingers.

“Listen to me.” It’s a firm order and his eyes go a little wide. “You are not a bad man. You never have been. You never will be. You are the reason I’m alive. Your will, your strength kept you from making a shot I know for a fact you could make in your sleep. The scars I bear are your love brought to life.”

Fox shakes his head quickly. “That is sick, cyar’ika, you were-“

It’s Mouse’s turn to make a sound of discontentment as she pulls at the collar of her dress, stretching it out and down around her shoulder. “Look at it,” she demands. When he hesitates, she places his hand on it, holds it down with her own. “It’s just skin, just flesh over bone. Do you think Palpatine would have allowed me to live even if you hadn’t been the one to do it?”

Her hand slides his down to her chest where she holds it high on her left breast. “This has always been yours. Do you feel it?”

Fox’s fingers twitch over her racing heart. She had to make him see. Even if this was the last moment they were ever together, he had to leave without the guilt. “This has always been yours,” she repeats again, “You protected it and I’m alive because of it.”

Fox pulls away from her with a rough exhale, shaking his head. Mouse lowers herself, sitting on her feet, pretending she doesn’t feel the pins and needles building in them. He won’t look at her as she adjusts the neck of her dress back. She’s failed. The sudden realization hits with such certainty. She was going to lose him for good.

“You are so warm. You draw people to you and take them in, claim them as yours and care for them. You’ve never seen myself or any of the other Guard as just clones. From day one you spoke to each and every trooper you met as an individual. You’ve always tried to help and for some reason I was the one lucky enough to have you helping me. Even when I was acting like osik. Even when I was gruff and dismissive. You dealt with me-“

“-And I loved you”

Love her head screams at her to correct but she doesn’t. Fox nods.

“Someone else will come along and they’ll love you with everything they have to give.”

Mouse feels a sharp pain in her chest and tries to turn away. Fox’s curled finger catches under her chin and brings her eyes back up to his. Mouse sees something steely in their warm depths.

“They’ll give you the world. Everything I can’t. But you know what?” He lets the question hang in the air for a moment. “I don’t want anyone else to love you. That’s my job. I don’t want to lose you and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I ever put you in a position to think otherwise.”

Relief, warm and fluid fills her veins as tears threaten at the corners of her eyes. Fox watches with slow building panic.

“I- please don’t cry.”

Mouse laughs then and leans up, capturing his lips in a chaste kiss that he doesn’t respond to immediately. When she pulls back, he looks pleasantly bewildered.

“I’m not sad.” She wipes aggressively at a tear rolling down her cheek. “These are happy.”

Fox’s hands cup her cheeks, his thumb brushing away another stray tears. “Well if that’s all…”

He leans in and captures her mouth in another sweet, delicate kiss, pours his love into it until it’s spilling over and Mouse thinks she could happily drown in the feel of it.

When she attempts to deepen the kiss, he pulls back. Mouse bites the inside of her cheek to stop a whine from escaping.

“My self control is negligible at this point.” Fox manages a strained laugh while he cradles her face. “I don’t want to rush-“

Mouse presses forward and kisses him hard, sharp teeth nipping just this side of painful along his lower lip. The growl she’s missed over the last few months rumbles in his chest.

When she pulls back, letting his lip slip between her teeth, she can’t help but appreciate the way his eyes have darkened. His hands fall down to her hips and he stares. Just stares into her eyes, searching for something. Mouse doesn’t look away.

“You want to do this right here?” His voice is thick with the familiar gravel of lust and Mouse feels a wave of heat ripple through her body. Right here, on the blanket in the warm sun where anyone could see. There’s a certain thrill to that thought. She swallows thickly.

“We need to slow down,” Fox repeats.

“Are you saying that for you or me? Because I’ve been waiting months to touch you,” she admits. If possible, Fox’s eyes darken more at the admission. She’s always loved his durasteel will, but right now Mouse found it more than a little irritating.

“Cyar’ika.” His tone is warm, but the warning underneath is very clear. Ok. Fine. She could go a bit longer.

“Can I show you something?”

A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth as his thumbs brush small light circles over her dress.

“I suppose it depends on what you're trying to show me.”

Mouse leans forward and the pair meet in a slow kiss, just a soft press of their mouths that neither can seem to deny. She murmurs against his lips when she pulls back.

“Come with me.”

——-

Link to part 2/2 here

#fox and mouse #commander fox #cc 1010 #commander fox/reader #tcw

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aureolusfirewrites · 4 years ago

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Here we go again

This one finally has some brooken fluff dont worry though because I'm to angst filled to have to much fluff for to long before absolutely ruining everything

Veined in Black

Chapter 3

/October 31/

Rook waited outside the door to Ben's room. After he knocked the first time and got no response his mind immediately flickered to the idea that Ben might be sick or hurt or worse but the second time he had heard some rustling and a voice call out "Just a second!"

When Ben finally stepped out he looked great. A lot better than he had yesterday which, to be fair, wouldn't take much. He was still pale and there were still bags under his eyes but he didn't seem like he was about to fall over sick any second. "Well you are looking much better" he commented.

"Hey Rook!" Ben said cheerfully. "You ready for the Halloween party tonight!" Rook chuckled at his partner's excitement. "Indeed I am though you have not told me what you will be going as" he didn't know why Ben refused to tell him unless it was for some sort of surprise. Ben had done that before, held off information to reveal it at the right time but Rook didn't understand the importance of hiding his costume.

"Are you coming?" Ben called running down the hallway. Rook chased after him and caught up easily. Ben never had very much luck outrunning him he was simply to short to have a lead for to long.

"Ben where are you going?" He asked quizzically. "Well I was thinking what if instead of Bellwood we patrol undertown today" Rook quirked his head, Ben liked undertown Rook understood that but he also remembered quite clearly that Ben had been avoiding it during halloween. There were so many criminals down in undertown and when undertown did halloween they did halloween hard.

"Why may I asked would you want to tour undertown?" Ben smiled and shook his head. "Oh c'mon Rook it's halloween think of all the cool stuff that's gonna be down there! I bet the entire city is decked out!"

He ducked and backed up as the teenager frantically waved his arms around as he talked. Rook had noticed this pattern of body language very early on in their partnership and he knew that Ben didn't notice he did so, and didn't control it either. Most of the time this led to Ben accidentally smacking his hands into Rook but he had learned how to dodge.

"Are you sure you want to risk going to undertown today? I know you don't like to talk about it but are you not concerned about having a potential... breakdown?"

Ben stopped and put his hand up to his chin. Rook wasn't sure what he was looking at. Normally at the mention of Ben's occasional mental instability he would get a glare or snarky comment or on a rare occasion just a gentle 'its fine' but now Ben looked confused. As if he wasn't even sure what Rook had meant.

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

It started happening a few months ago, well longer than that but Rook had started noticing a few months ago. The uneven breaths Ben sometimes had to take, the jumping and flinching at contact in certain areas. Rook had easily guessed what might be going on with his overly heroic self-sacrificing partner, but it had been confirmed in the worst way possible.

Zombozo had shown up again and Rook had noticed Ben was already panting at the sight of the clown. He couldn't imagine how bad it would get though.

After the fight Ben had fallen to his hands and knees staring at the ground panting gasping and shaking with his pupils no bigger than pinpricks. Rook bent over and put a hand on Ben's shoulder. Apprently that had been the wrong move. Ben whipped around faster than light and smacked Rook off of him. Then Ben was pushing himself backwards screaming at Rook saying "GET AWAY FROM ME" and "DON'T TOUCH ME!" One look into Ben's eyes and Rook could tell he wasn't really seeing him anymore. The thin pupils glancing around wildly as if there was a crowd surrounding him.

Rook knew what it was, just never expected to see the Ben 10 having a panic attack. Rook simply sat down on the ground and talked to Ben from a distance not making any move forward and just letting Ben hear his voice.

Rook had no idea how he hadn't noticed any sooner. With how early Ben was thrown into this lifestyle and the constant threats against him Rook was surprised he hadn't developed any form of PTSD earlier.

After a while Ben's breathing evened out and he was able to choke out Rook's name before he curled up and started bawling his eyes out. Rook had never seen his partner cry before but it seemed like this was long overdue as Ben buried his face into Rook's chest clinging to him like a lifeline. Ben had passed out after a while still hanging on to Rook who had taken him home and told Max about the incident.

Since then Rook had just tried to understand the condition better and help keep his partner grounded.

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

Ben was mumbling and Rook could only hear half of it. "Breakdown- I didn't think he- that would explain-"

"Don't worry Rook it won't be a problem I'm feeling good about today!" Ben said finally getting back on task. "If you say so..."

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

The trip in undertown went unsettlingly better than he would've thought. Ben never flinched when people bumped into him, never sent a nervous glance at anyone, not even a slight hitch in his breath. Which was quite a feat considering their surroundings.

Undertown had transformed for the holiday. The vendors had painted their carts and hung up orange lanterns pumpkins and other things had faces carved into them and were glowing casting haunting light over everything. And the entire city hummed with purple light where there wasn't orange. To summarize Undertown had turned into an earthen version of Anur Transyl.

Ben walked around looking at things and laughing with Rook. He was happy to see his partner so carefree the sky above knows he needed it but also unnerved him. Ben just seemed off to him.

"So about the plumber's party tonight, I was thinking maybe we could go... Together?" Rook quirked his head to the side in confusion. "Were we not already going to attend the party together?" Ben's face burned red. "I- I- mean maybe as like a kinda sorta... Date?"

Rook was pretty sure his brain did a... What would Ben call it? Short circuit?

"AUGH no" Ben buried his now entirely red face in his hands "stupid, I'm so stupid this is stupid, just forget I said anything-" "I'd love to" Ben froze and glanced at Rook. "Really?" "Would you like me to stop by your room at eight?" Ben smiled widely "y- yeah that'd be awesome."

They stayed like that for a while on the boardwalk not saying anything until the omnitrix beeped.

"Oh right I forgot I set that, Rook I gotta go back to my room and get ready... See you in a bit?"

Rook nodded with a smile and watched Ben walk a ways away before getting up and doing what Ben called a 'fist pump' and walking to his truck.

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

Rook looked at the costume he had prepared. Ben said that a costume enough would've been not wearing his armor but plumber base had a tendency to take advantage of letting your guard down so he had this.

He had taken the main pieces of his armor and spray painted them changing it from a dark blue to a ghostly white. He put it on and looked in the mirror. It had turned out better than Rook could've expected he looked just like he was wearing a skeleton costume and he had found a special coating to it would glow in the dark to.

Rook was excited wondering what costume Ben had chosen. He really hadn't been expecting a date proposition while they were in undertown but he also couldn't say he hadn't wanted it. Truthfully he had been avoiding the idea of having feelings for his partner, but for Ben to return the feeling...

Rook stopped in front of Ben's room. A pit had suddenly formed in his stomach. He thought for a moment he might just be nervous but it was more like his 'danger radar' was going off. He opened to door and walked inside. The lights were all turned off odd...

"Ben? It is almost time for the party are you prepared?" The door behind him slammed shut suddenly. Rook jumped startled away from it the only light in the room was his armor until...

'czzrk crrk zrrkc' crackling noises came from above him and he looked up at something flashing. Suddenly humming split the terrifying atmosphere making the eerie feeling worse. It was a haunting melody that carried loudly and sounded like it came from a child. Rook looked up at the rafters.

There was crackling green electricity sparking with purple swinging back and forth. Illuminating a figure above him. "...Ben?"

A raspy chuckle came from the teenager.

"Sorry Blonko Ben isn't home right now."

#ben tennyson #rook blonko #ben 10 fanfiction #ben ten omniverse #ben 10 omniverse #brooken #benrook #rookben

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wearetakingthehobbitstogallifrey · 5 years ago

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Kdrama recs Part 1

Hullo and welcome to the kdrama life @camsthisky! The following list is not in any particular order, other than the fact that I start with a more rom/com vibe and head toward more romantic/action or action. All the following kdramas are set in the modern day, and part 2 of my recs for you will be either darker kdramas set in present day or historical dramas.

Let the list begin!

1. Strong Woman Do Bong Soon:

Do Bong Soon is a v smol woman who has super strength and who wants 1. To create her own video game 2. Get her police officer crush to return her affections. Which like, police officer is kinda cute but he ain’t that special. Bong Soon winds up becoming a bodyguard to Ahn Min Hyuk, the extremely rich, kinda spoiled, ridiculously extra CEO of a gaming company who does not like the police for secret reasons, and sadly does not have a good relationship with his family. (He a lonely boy underneath everything.) Min Hyuk finds out about Bong Soon’s powers, is in TOTAL awe of her, offers to train her in fighting, and literally falls head over heels for her.

The caveat with this show is there is a subplot or two that annoy me, BUT I just use the 10 second skip button and it is totally worth it because the romance is super cute—SUPER CUTE (also I have a list of favorite actors and Park Hyung Sik is def on it—one minute he is an adorkable, blushing bby the next he can be intense and sad)

He cute

2. Her Private Life:

Hello fake-dating!! Ryan Gold (an adoptee who didn’t live in Korea for a while) is a former artist who stopped painting because he couldn’t deal with his Stendhol (?) syndrome (among other traumas). Deok Mi is the classy art curator of a famous museum who definitely does not have any secrets she wants to keep from the world—well, other than the fact that she is the number one fangirl of kpop idol, Cha Shi-an (who also appreciates art) and has a major crush on him. Ryan becomes director of the art museum and there is a whole thing with getting Shi-an involved in an art show.

Following this and a series of unfortunate events a false rumor starts that Deok Mi and and Shi-an ARE dating. It’s a little complicated to summarize, but basically what you need to know is that Ryan and Deok Mi become a fake couple so there won’t be a scandal for Shi-an or violence done to Deok Mi by rabid fangirls. I enjoy the fake-dating trope a lot, and how it becomes real for both of them! The leads are played by Kim Jae Wook and Park Min Young, who both have incredible range. Lots of soft moments in this one! Good kisses, a scene where the faves bake together, and also Ryan wears a lot of deep v-neck shirts and jackets which is an attack on me personally.

The show also contains a bit of angst, which I LOVE. Hand-holding becomes an important theme 😊

RYAN NO

3. Crash Landing on You: Rich South Korean heiress/fashion designer Se-ri accidentally winds up in a North Korean village, and really REALLY wants to go home. Mostly because there are no scented candles or spa-like bathtubs in the vicinity, but also because she could easily disappear into a NK jail and never return. A North Korean captain named Ri Jeong Hyeok finds her and decides not to turn her because, one, he’s a good guy who doesn’t want to turn an innocent person over to what might be her death, and two, turning her over might get his four underlings in trouble for reasons. Said underlings are his family, basically, and they are a deLIGHT. One is an argumentative proud sort who likes to drink and to feel important and who tries to provoke (and gets provoked by) Se-ri at every opportunity, one is a lover of banned South Korean dramas, one is a 17 year old bby who misses his mom, and one is the silent but most loyal follower of the captain.

Besides all these people, there are two other characters (including a surprisingly wise conman) who become faves and major players in the plot.

There is a great mix of humor, romance, found family, and angst, and I love it very much. A few things don’t go the way I want them to near the end, but a bit of imagination and fanfic can fix anything

ALSO I FORGOT THE CAPTAIN GETS SUPER SULKY FROM TIME TO TIME AND IT IS HILARIOUS

Show of hands, who thinks they will meet again

4. Are You Human Too: A FAVORITE SHOW OF ALL! TIME!

What do you do when your husband dies and your evil mega-rich father-in-law takes your son away from you and keeps you from seeing him ever? Well, if you are scientist with more genius than positive coping methods, you build yourself a robot son who looks exactly like your real son. Great solution, am I right?

Nam Shin III is the name of my favorite robot son, played by the inestimable Seo Kang Joon. He is the purest bby you will ever meet, being designed so that he never lies and so that he will immediately go to hug anyone who cries. He seems quite a contrast to the bitter human Nam Shin, who hates his gilded prison life, hates his Grandpa, and tries to sneak away from his right hand man, Secretary Ji Young Hoon, his only friend in the world. The girl in the show is Kang So Bong, an ex-UFC fighter who was so badly injured she had to quit. She is at first a bit jaded and mercenary because of her past, but she has a golden heart that just needs to be reminded of its existence.

Not going into details to avoid spoilers, but everything upends when the robot Nam Shin has to take the place of the human Nam Shin. The show is a soft, funny, angsty exploration of what it means to be human, with some good found family throughout. The character development is phenomenal, and the connection between So Bong and Nam Shin III is *chef’s kiss*. I just want to give a shout out to Seo Kang Joon who plays a duel role like you wouldn’t believe, to SKJ’s smile, to the soundtrack, and to the character of Young Hoon, a loyal, steady, and self-sacrificing secretary that we do not deserve (gosh tho he looks good in blue!)

Look at my robot son getting a long-looked for affirmation! (his lil smile!!!

5. W: Two Worlds:

This show unique because it meta as HELL! Oh Yeon Joo is a junior doctor and the daughter of a webtoon artist whose big hit, W, is coming to a close. Much to her surprise, she gets pulled into the world of the comic where she encounters and saves the main character, Kang Chul, a former Olympic shooting champion who was blamed for the murder of his entire family, and whose sole desire is to find the real killer. It’s a good romance between them, and I also love Kang Chul’s relationship with his hyung, which, tho it is not always a main focus, is present and wonderful. Kang Chul himself is both intelligent and adorably bratty, charismatic and angsty, soft and fierce, and he is one of my favorite kdrama characters for sure.

As for the meta, the show does a fantastic job exploring the rules of the comic world, of how one can enter and leave, the importance and power of main characters and supporting characters, and the purpose of an author. There is always another twist coming, and it is just so much fun!

UM SIR PLS POINT THAT ELSEWHERE

6. Healer:

I watched half this show and never realized that the female lead is played by Park Min Young, same actress as in Her Private Life. Someone had to tell me lol! She’s just so good at playing different people. In this show, she is Chae Young Shin, a reporter for a celebrity tabloid who has big dreams of becoming a famous reporter who investigates stories that actually mean something. She is a bit quirky, very cute, very brave, and probably one of my favorite female leads. She lives with her dad above his coffee/teashop bakery and is friends with all the ex-cons he has defended while doing his other job of lawyering.

Anyway this show is more of a romantic/action drama. To get an idea of the titular Healer, picture what you would get if you took some of Batman and Nightwing’s aesthetics (wearing black, hanging out on rooftops, punching people, flipping around, etc) and put them into a night courier who likes to watch National Geographic and dream about one day going off to an island where he can live all by himself for the rest of his days because oh yeah he is a loner whose only friend is an older woman who sets up his jobs and whom he has never actually met.

There is also an older reporter that Young Shin looks up to, the fun tabloid office where she works, a heck lot of mystery surrounding some tragedy involving a group of reporter best friends/found family back in the 80’s/90’s, and of course both members of the OTP have childhood trauma that has made them who they are today. One of my favorite things that happens in the show is that Healer has to go undercover for a while, Clark Kenting it up in Young Shin’s tabloid office, which overnight becomes a real news agency for reasons.

The action is LOTS of fun, and the romance is really soft and cute, and better still, when there is a misunderstanding or something that gets in their way, they almost immediately talk about it and resolve issues. They TRUST each other and give the benefit of the doubt where many tv couples would break up or get in big fights. I find it (plus the character development) very refreshing.

I couldn’t find a gif of my favorite fight sadly. This will have to do

7. Lawless Lawyer: This has Lee Joon Gi. Watch it.

Just kidding, there are many other reasons to watch the show, but it is true that Lee Joon Gi is one of my favorite actors. The man has phoenix eyes, a jawline that could cut silk, diamonds, you name it, and such a deep well of emotional acting that it literally kills me when his characters rage/weep/love/etc.

Anyway, in this legal thriller/romance/action drama, LJG’s character Bong Sang Pil is a beautiful, very extra ex-gangster/now lawyer who opens his own office, ready to fight villainy and avenge his mom with the law or with his fists, whichever is more useful at the time. He has a right hand man named Manager Tae and recruits a bunch of thugs as his minions, and they all become a weird sort of family as the show goes on.

Ha Jae Yi is a quiet badass lawyer who has no time for sexist idiots and gets her license suspended for smacking one of said fools. She gets recruited to assist Sang Pil, and they find their goals align as both their mothers were destroyed by the villains.

Speaking of the villains? EXCELLENT acting by them all, like they need to go down obviously, but you can’t help but be in awe of a few of them or even get attached to one or two in a weird way. Props to the show for having one of the best female villains I have ever seen

What an icon

Here you get two gifs of him

Sorry I needed to make it a magical three lol

Tune in next time for historical dramas and modern dramas that are a bit darker!

#kdrama recommendations #lawless lawyer #healer #w two worlds #are you human too #her private life #strong woman do bong soon #crash landing on you #kdrama recs for cam #my kdrama recs

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sheabuttahwrites · 4 years ago

Text

[I Know]

. three : talkative

two

I had been blessed with a very rare situation. Cam hadn’t left for work, yet I was home alone. He always requested that I cook the day before his flight, but, today, we didn't have all of the necessary ingredients for whatever he was asking for. I didn't care enough to remember what he wanted and, since my jaw was still a little puffy and a few marks remained around my neck, he was also forced to make the grocery store run on his own. After he had been gone for a solid ten minutes, I saw my opportunity. I hadn't actually spoken to O in ages, so I decided to call him up while I had the chance.

“Awww, man,” he answered, in a groggy tone. The deep, sexy ‘morning’ voice was in full effect. “Look at the Lord working on this fine Sunday--what time is it?--afternoon.”

“You know what?”

The comforting melody of his laughter fell into my ear. I had been craving it for the longest. “What’s up, pooh?”

“Hey, my boo boo boo boo bear,” I half mumbled, employing a voice usually reserved only for babies. He laughed again, this time I joined him.

“Yo, I miss you.”

“I’m saying. I wanted to hear your voice.”

“Yeah, I almost forgot what you sound like.”

“Anyway,” I giggled. “You actually sound like you were sleeping. Did I wake you?”

“You most definitely did.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It’s all good, I ain't trippin’. What you up to?”

“You sure? ‘Cause I can let you go back to sleep and just talk to you later.”

“You about to hang up on me or something?”

“No, I'm not hanging up on you,” I barely replied, laughing way too hard. It even hurt my jaw a little. “I'm just trying to make sure you good.”

“Why wouldn't I be good?”

The silliest smile found its way onto my face. I was so glad he couldn't see me. “Ok, I’m done.”

When I saw her name pop up on my screen, I knew she was alone. This would’ve been a text conversation for sure. The only time we really got to talk was when she was here. Which was spaced out, but still pretty often. Her first visit was my suggestion. She sounded like she needed to get away, so I offered up my place. Understandably, she was reluctant, but decided to come a week or so after the initial invitation. We had been knowing each other for about six months then, and I felt cool enough to share my space with her. When she got here, all she wanted to do was stay inside. I didn't press her, because I was sure there was some fear involved, but I did eventually convince her to hit the streets with me. Ever since, her getaways became customary. She would hit me the day before her dude was leaving, and I’d plan to pick her up as soon as I could. She’d stay with me for two weeks, then she’d go back home for a week before she returned. She said it was because she didn't want to wear out her welcome. I told her that wasn't even possible, but I let her do it however she felt most comfortable. Either way, I enjoyed her company. The arrangement wasn't the most ideal of situations, but I just couldn't shake the fact that shit was just better when she was around.

“Um hmm. You by yourself?”

“Yeah. He just went to the store.”

“Ok. So, what you up to?” I asked, referencing my earlier question.

“Sitting in this house looking ugly,” she said, giggling at her own lie. “I been missin’ you, too.”

“When I’ma see you then?”

“He leaves in the morning.”

I can't lie, I always looked forward to this news. My grin was so wide I wouldn't be surprised if shorty could hear it through the phone. “Yeah? Well, I can come through tomorrow. Or you wanna wait a little bit?”

“Wait for what?”

“I mean, I was just checking. It's whatever you wanna do.”

After a slight pause, she smacked her lips and laughed, catching that this was just my way of getting her back for trying to hang up on me a second ago. “You are not funny.”

“So, you want me to come tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, O. Definitely tomorrow.”

I chuckled, hearing her try to speak through her giggles. “I'm messing with you. You know I'ma be there.”

“Um hmm. What time?”

“What time you gon' be ready?”

“Around eight-thirty or nine.”

“I’ll come at nine.”

“Yeah, that’ll be perfect. I can't wait to see you.”

“Me either. It's been a while.”

“It has. I miss your face.”

“Yeah?”

“Um hmm.”

“What you miss about it?”

For some reason, I started to blush instantly. I sat back, twirling a piece of my hair, snickering into the phone. “Anyway.”

I heard him laugh a little. “You are a trip. It’s good to hear your voice, though.”

“Yeah.” I just wished that he and Cam were more alike. Or that they could switch places, or something. O was just everything, the same way I knew that Cameron could be. But, somewhere along the way, I guess he had forgotten how to show it. “…Oh, yeah, I dreamed about you last night. We were dead ass flying.”

“What was this one about?”

I almost always shared my dreams of him with him. Only because they had all been mostly innocent. Up until last night. If I would've been thinking, I wouldn't have even mentioned it. Now I had to tell him. But no way was I about to tell him everything. “You came here, left with me, and we didn't come back,” I half lied.

“Hmmm.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you know what I told you.”

“Yes,” I smiled. “I know.”

“Um hmm. Ain’t nothing changed. Whenever you’re ready.”

I bit my bottom lip, so taken by his words that I couldn't even say anything. Omari had always been honest with me. From the beginning I knew that our friendship was important to him, but I also knew that his interest in me went much deeper. I really didn't know what to do with that.

“So, what we doing tomorrow?” He continued.

“I'm just happy to be getting away for a while.”

“You say that every time I ask you what you wanna do.”

I smacked my lips at him. He was already fully aware that I was the most indecisive person on the planet. “But it's the truth. I would come over there right now if I could,” I confessed.

“I can be there in like twenty minutes.”

“Omari, no,” I laughed. He was a mess and then some. Knowing he lived more than twenty minutes away.

“You always giggling. Goofy self.”

We talked for about forty-five more minutes until Cam got back home. I was already downstairs in the kitchen, so I could easily hear when he pulled into the garage. Though I was nowhere near ready, I told Omari I had to go and hurried to erase all evidence of our interaction. First his number from my phone, then the smile from my face. Right before Cam walked in with takeout from King Spring, my favorite Chinese spot.

“I got Chinese. I thought maybe you would like that better than cooking.”

Barely even looking his way, I responded with a weak grin. Only because I really didn't feel like cooking. Especially not for him. “Yeah, thanks,” I mumbled, unimpressed. He sat the bag up on the counter and passed me the carryout box from the top, along with a handful of duck sauce.

“You're welcome.”

We washed our hands and he took a seat beside me up at the island as I began to squeeze packet after packet of duck sauce onto my combination fried rice. I wasn't stuntin' his ass, but I was past ready for the food he was failing to bait me with.

“Um... can we talk?” he had the nerve to ask.

“Cameron, seriously?”

“What?”

“You know what.” I stopped, focused on stirring my rice. “...I really don't have anything to say to you.” I started to eat, quickly forgetting that I had been punched in the jaw just a little over a day and a half ago. “Aaah,” I winced, grabbing my face. For some reason, he reached up and placed his hand to mine.

“I'm sorry.”

I dropped my arm down into my lap, mainly because I wanted him off of me. Why he felt the need to touch me at the moment, I had no idea. “Yeah, I know. You told me,” I replied, wondering if he could sense my mild sarcasm. I replaced the food that had fallen from my fork, this time being a lot more careful not to aggravate my injury as I ate.

“You still mad at me?”

Once again, my attempt to satisfy my hunger was cut short. I slowly turned to look at him and slumped my head in disbelief. He couldn't be serious. “Look at me, Cameron. Look at me. Do you see this?” I asked, holding my hair back to make sure he could get a clear view of my face and neck. “This is you. I didn't do this.”

“But, baby, I apologized for that. I'm sorry.”

He was serious indeed. So much so that I lost my damn appetite. I turned away with a frustrated sigh, allowing my fork to fall from my hand. “Cam... can we please just let it go?”

I did not have the energy for this shit. No matter how hard I tried, I could never make him understand that his ‘sorrys’ didn't reverse my pain. They didn't take away my scars. They didn't erase all of the bad memories or make me feel more comfortable in my own home. But, still, they were all I ever got from him. And, quite honestly, I was sick of being lied to. Because, if he were ever really sorry, he wouldn't have to repeat it over and over. Because he wouldn't keep doing this shit to me.

“So, that's it? You don't wanna talk to me?”

“I don't. I don't wanna talk to you about anything right now.”

“...Aight ...ok.” I decided to just leave her alone and let her eat. I went back to my plate as well, but then I realized she wasn't eating with me. “You don't want the food either?”

“I'm not hungry.”

I sighed and looked away for a second, more upset with myself than anything. I had overreacted. She said she didn't call me someone else's name, maybe she didn't. I don't know. It’s like, when it came to her, I could turn into something so ruthless. I just loved her so much. And I’d never had to doubt her love for me. After twenty-seven years of life, I hadn't come across anyone like her. She had stuck with me through everything, given me her love, sacrificed herself and her own happiness for me. Somebody who didn't even deserve it. But I could sense her starting to get tired early on. That's when I knew I had to make moves. We needed to get far away from Atlanta. I had to become all she had. It was the only way she would stay. And God knows I didn't wanna lose her. But I wasn't treating her the way a man should. At some point, she had become like a possession to me. Maybe it was because she was untouched before me, but I just felt like she was mine. And the thought alone of another taking my place was enough to push me over the edge. I had no idea what I would, or wouldn't, do if the shit actually happened and that scared me. I don't even know if it was in me to restrain myself anymore.

One thing I knew for sure, I was a different guy when we first started. It was never my plan to turn into this horrible person. In fact, my goal was the opposite. I wanted to be good to her; the way she was to me. I didn't want to use my hands to cause her body harm. It wasn't my intent to employ my voice in a way that would make her feel unsafe or less than the amazing woman she was. But the ability to control those impulses was something I had long lost. All the shit she was working with could drive the soundest mind mad. She was damn near perfect. Which was why I didn't understand myself in the least. Most people would kill for what I had, and I couldn't even handle it.

“Baby, I can't leave here tomorrow with us like this.” She looked over at me, her face void of any expression. “What I gotta do?”

Not a single solution came to mind and I had grown tired of him trying to force me to talk to him, so I got up and put my food into the microwave. I quietly left the kitchen and made my way upstairs to lie down in the bed I had been banished from and then reinvited to on many occasions. I fought so hard not to cry, but I did not win. Tears ran from my eyes like faucets as I hugged my pillow, wondering if he knew the depth of the pain he was causing me; if he even cared.

After a few short minutes, I felt his side of the bed sink behind me. I knew he would end up there. He always followed me around like a puppy when he'd done wrong. Which was the opposite of what I wanted him to do. But it always got him the result I guess he was looking for...

Once he was done fucking my brains out, I had to coax myself into not throwing up. I felt disgusting. Still, I had to make it seem as if everything was ok. Because, to him, it was.

There were many things that had changed about Cam over the years, but one that had remained the same was his ability to appease me sexually. I didn't like to admit it, but the way he used his body made me absolutely stupid. And, in knowing this, he often took advantage.

“I love you. So much,” he claimed, out of breath.

I smiled up at him, playing along with this sick game. “I love you.”

Hours Later

We were still laid up; facing one another, legs tangled, and wrapped in each other's arms. His eyes hadn't left me once, and neither had his hand left my face. His caresses were endless and so were his kisses. When his lips weren't pressed against me, they were in my ear reciting countless I love you's. The guilt had him laying it on extra thick.

This was usually the time where I'd begin to exact my sort of revenge. For about the next week or so, I could get anything I wanted out of him. I had attained my phone, laptop, and use of one of the cars from time to time this very way. But, with this particular instance, I wasn't even interested in gaining anything. His leaving was enough for me.

“I don't wanna let you go,” he whispered, before kissing my lips for about the hundredth time.

“You better go pack.”

“Shit, I don't even have to leave tomorrow.”

I almost frowned, but, luckily, I caught myself. He did not need to start with that shit. No way was I about to agree with him. “...I think you should,” I somehow mustered up the courage to say. He didn't reply, but the slight confusion all over his expression was enough. “Baby, it's your job. You need to go.”

“I wasn't serious. I just wish I didn't have to leave right now, you know?”

“Yeah.” I reached and put my arm up around his neck, giving him yet another kiss. A grin spread across my face after, but he didn't seem so thrilled anymore. “It’s gonna be ok, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

About another hour later, he finally left the bed and started to get his things ready. Needless to say, I was elated and it definitely showed. I didn't even bother trying to hide it. I was nothing but smiles and giggles, and this nigga had the nerve to believe it was because of him. Seriously? How could he possibly think that he had anything to do with my newfound joy? Anything!

“It's good to see you smile again,” he told me, smiling himself. I didn't say a word. I just smiled wider, and way goofier, which only made us both laugh. “Silly girl.”

It was almost funny how clueless he was. He would probably lose whatever morals, religion, and sanity he had left if he knew I had found so much comfort in another man. Especially one who was without a doubt more attractive than him. But that was a risk I was willing to take. O was worth it.

“You not gon' help me, though?” he asked, fake pouting, trying to persuade me. I usually did help, but tonight I was exhausted. Plus, I didn't wanna help.

“I'm tired, boo.” Just as I finished speaking, a perfectly timed yawn followed. “See?”

“Damn. I probably should've done this before, huh?”

“Maybe,” I giggled, “but it's too late now.”

He laughed to himself and continued to fill his luggage as I rolled over, not worried about him or his clothes. Only one person was on my mind, and my longing would be cured in just a few hours.

#original fiction #original characters #black characters #black fiction #black fic #drama #romance #love story #i know #SheaButtahWrites

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years ago

Text

@liccy, sliding into my dms, giving me a list of prompts with the demand I wrote more Dragged Away like some sort of mad lad. Liccy, I love you so much, I hope this is proof of that lmao. I actually sort of forgot about Dragged Away again, but every time I remember it I am reminded of all the deliciously sinister plans I've made for it. This is longer than a drabble, because a continuation for Dragged Away requires it. I'll add a keep reading later. Enjoy liccy ya sly funky artist you. 💕

89) “Why hasn’t anyone looked for me yet?” “Because they don’t care about you like I do.”

-o-o-o-o-

Hyrule doesn't know how long he stays like that. Laying there. Pathetically. Curled up as much as the chan and shackle will allow, wallowing in his fear and misery. Shivering the in cold of the cell.

He hoped not for too long, but his frightened mind doesn't look always allow him to keep perfect track of time. Eventually, he does manage to remember that his brain is connected to a body. With a deep breath that's come from years of practice, he calms his heart down and forced his legs to move.

He's vulnerable laying down like this. He needs to not be so vulnerable.

He breathes. And breathes. Connecting strings in his mind that he hasn't thought he needed anymore. He thought he was done with all this blood sacrificing nonsense. Last time it was horrifying, but he survived it. He lived. Shoved it under the rug like the trauma was nothing more than dust and tried to move on.

And he's back to this again.

He cannot be vulnerable. He has to be calm. It doesn't bother him.

He's not scared at all.

He eventually finds himself sitting on his hind end, knees drawn up slightly. He wishes he could stand up, but the clinking of his short chain reminds him of how easily he was defeated last time he was standing was much as the chain allowed. It will do him nothing to stand up, haunched over like some whethered old laborer. At least, from sitting in this position, he can kick.

Shivers wrack his frame and he glares down at the stone floor below him. Six days. Six days and whatever this blood moon is will come and they will use his blood to bring back Calamity Ganon. A monster... alike to Hyrule's own version of Ganon. Hyrule doesn't want to be the cause of any version of Ganon returning to life. He'd much rather die, in fact.

And it's just... It's shitty that dying is the issue here!

He sits there, ignoring the hardness of the ground on his tailbone, and hopes the others are coming.

And quickly.

-o-o-o-o-

Hours must pass.

He's not sure, especially since the only contact to the outside world he has from his little radius in the middle of the floor is the bars in the prison cell door. But they don't lead outside. All he can see from here is brick, sandstone wall and the flickering of a torch. There's no window here. No sunlight. No way to be sure.

But, regardless, hours must pass before something changes.

It's when he's finally been forced to shift so he's cross legged on the ground in an attempt to relieve some pressure on his tailbone that shadows cross outside the door's window. Quickly, Hyrule untangles his legs and glares at the door as it opens with a heavy sliding of metal.

The figure that walks in is just like the rest. It's impossible to tell them apart, but maybe that's not so bad. It's impossible to tell apart normal monsters. Maybe, if these whackos all look alike, that lingering worry that they're human won't bug him so much. The soldier is carrying a tray with some sort of mush in it, and they set it down on the ground just out of Hyrule's reach before straightening and bouncing slightly on the balls of their feet.

"Well?" The monster with a human voice asks.

And Hyrule realizes that they won't bring the food any closer. Hyrule glares, tempted to argue that he's not hungry because for all he knows it could be poisoned or laced with something... But his stomach growls and he thinks that if they wanted to poison him, they could easily do so without having to drug his food. Besides, he should save his strength.

With as much dignity as he can muster, he scoots over as far as his chain will allow and uses the heel of his foot to catch onto the edge of the tray, watching the (Yuta? Yaiba? Gah whatever) solder wearily. They don't make a move to attack him when he's stretched out vulnerable like this. He quickly curls back anyways, dragging the tray with him and glaring the entire time.

"I don't have all day," the soldier says as Hyrule stares down at the mush wearily. He sighs and dips two fingers into the thick mixture, wincing slightly at the texture, and brings out a scoop. He takes a deep breath and... it's not that bad actually. The texture is just as icky as he thought, but the taste is banana. Kind of pleasant, mushy weirdness aside. Better than what he was expecting.

He quickly eats the rest of the banana mixture, licking his fingers and slowly placing the bowl back into the tray when he's all done. When the soldier tilts his head and taps his foot, Hyrule sighs and kicks the tray out so it's out of his range. The soldier beds down, picks up the tray, gives a mock solute, and then walks out of the cell with all the swagger and confidence of a rich moblin in a cave.

The cell door closes and Hyrule scoffs, curling slightly and licking between his gums and cheek to get the rest of the flavor stuck back by his molars.

Any minute now guys. A rescue soon would be great.

-o-o-o-o-

More hours pass, and Hyrule cannot for the life of him figure out how much passes exactly. He busies himself picking at the shackle, then the chain, then the plate of metal in the ground that the chain is connected to. There's no imperfections. No wiggle room. His wrist feels a little rubbed now, and the corners of the metal itches. His tailbone hates him. Sleep is tugging down his eyelids but the constant anxiety in his chest making it impossible to even flirt with the idea. He looks at the back of his hand where the Triforce should be and he wonders if it's left him without letting him know first. Not that it matters, he's always known he was unworthy. He's done more harm than good it feels in his time. He's killed Ganon but the world fell further apart anyway.

He sighs and picks at the shackle again.

-o-o-o-o-

They bring more banana mush just as hunger is beginning to tug at his stomach again. They don't talk and Hyrule doesn't talk to them. The only difference between this time and the last is that this soldier doesn't force him to lower himself by tugging on the chain like a dog to get the food. They, instead, walk right up and drop it, causing some of the mixture to splash out. Hyrule remains stubbornly silent as he eats what's left in the bowl, and instead of handing the bowl back like the solider must be expecting, he hurls the bowl past them and out the cell door.

The soldier smacks him across the head, not painfully so but in a way that shows their annoyance, before they pick up the tray and practically stalk out with steam rising from their shoulders. The door clicks shut and Hyrule tries not to let himself panic at the grumbling words he hears as they walk out.

"We'll see about him getting any food tomorrow."

-o-o-o-o-

Hyrule's bored and hungry. Enough so that he hardly even noticed that he passed out until he was blinking awake on his side. He slowly and cautiously rises so he's sitting again, wincing as his spine protests and his wrist twinges. His stomach growls and all he can do is sit there and trail his finger in the dust of the stone until something happens.

Nothing does. He's beginning to think the threat was real, and if today is a new day he won't be getting any food during it.

-o-o-o-o-

"Why hasn't anyone looked for me yet," Hyrule whispers to himself, staring at the picture he's spent quite a long time drawing out in the dust. It's all messy lines, but the face does look vaguely like Legend. He misses Legend.

"Because they don't care about you like I do," a familiar voice says. Hyrule's breath catches and he looks up with wide eyes before he can stop himself. Standing outside the window of the cell door is the same old white mask, but the voice... the voice he knows. It's the same one who came to him before and forced him to kneel while he called Hyrule pathetic and week. He'll never forget that voice.

Hyrule forces up something that feels fake but looks like courage and glares at the enemy. The man just snickers and opens the cell door, holding a tray with a bowl. Hyrule's stomach growls against his will and Hyrule's sure by the way the soldiers wiggles his shoulders ever so slightly, he's smirking under that mask.

"Hope you're hungry," he says. Then, with a cruel voice, "because I don't actually have anything."

The tray and bowl clatters to the ground and nothing splatters out. Hyrule curls his hands into fists.

"They'll come," he says, that fake-but-feels-like-courage in his voice.

The soldier scoffs and kicks the bowl to the side. "They would have by now if they cared. That damn hero knows where this place is, and our patrols haven't seen anyone yet. Perhaps they're just caught up?"

Hyrule snarls and goes to stand up, forgetting about the short chain until he's stopped short. "They'll come," he repeats, not allowing the words of the enemy to affect him. "And you care for nothing."

"Oh, but I do care for you, you little mouse," the soldier says, folding his arms. "You're useful to me. But to them? You've just proven yourself that you can't protect yourself long enough to not get captured from cult fanatics. They don't care about you. I'm the only one who will be caring about you until the Blood Moon rises once again and our master returns."

"It's not real. My blood won't being anything back," Hyrule bluffs, hoping it's convincing. "Whoever told you are lying."

"Eh, either way, in four days you'll be dead," the soldier says, shrugging. "So it doesn't really matter, am I right?"

Hyrule doesn't indulge him with an answer.

"My point exactly. Now," he claps his hands together, "look, as much as you think we're cruel, we actually want to make sure you're not half dead already from starvation and thirst when your heroic sacrifice comes around. We gotta make sure you're blood will be nice and healthy when we spill it, so you gotta work with us kid."

Hyrule feels something in his face twitch. Anger curling in his gut right next to the anxiety.

"We can get some steak in here even, if ya want, all you gotta do is apologise."

"For what," Hyrule grinds out.

"For throwing the bowl, silly!"

"Fuck you."

Perhaps the bravest and stupidest thing Hyrule's said in the past two days—Hylia, has it really been 48 hours?

But for all his (fake) bravery, the soldier just shrugs. "Alright, we'll talk tomorrow."

He then turns away and walks out the cell, leaving Hyrule to slowly sit back down and lower his head into his hands. Alone to do nothing but ignore his pulsing tailbone and smarting wrist.

Alone to sit and fight off terrified tears.

#linked universe #hero of hyrule #drabble fic #lu drabble fic #dragged away fic #jin writed #liccy #lovely lovely liccy #💕#hope you like the cliffy

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imagine-loki · 4 years ago

Text

The Naughty Poltergeist

TITLE :The Naughty Poltergeist

CHAPTER: #1 of ?

AUTHOR'S: lokilover9 & velvetzybanshee

RATING: M

NOTES: This one shot is based on Loki having paid penance for ruining Thor's coronation. He never fell from the bifrost, nor attacked earth and is now free. Not to discount his true history, we just thought he deserved some happy. As for Felipe, he's based on the Spanish character Agador Spartacus, from the movie The Birdcage and speaks in broken english.

EXTRAS: Madre = mother niña = girlfriend panocha = pussy

Original Imagine

Imagine thinking your new house is haunted. No one knows Loki lives there because he's always invisible and conjures furniture as needed. Disgruntled by your presence, he behaves like a poltergeist until one day you've had enough."I'm not leaving! Show yourself dammit!" Nothing happens for days and you think he's gone. Then while giving friends a tour, you find him naked on your bed drinking whiskey. "Cheers, darling. You did say show myself." Only you can see him and he follows you around like that for the remainder of their visit.

Loki was content residing on Midgard. With Thor King of Asgard remaining heavily influenced by Odin, he felt displaced as ever and decided to travel abroad. It was aloud providing he didn't hide from Heimdall and returned were the realm threatened, but that didn't mean he behaved. Midgard's continents teamed with beautiful maidens and Loki spent months at a time seducing them across the globe. Yet an introvert by nature, the constant socializing became exhausting. He needed intervals of solitude to rejuvenate his mind and cock. Indecisive of where, he conjured a world map, closed his eyes and randomly chose a location.

First attempt. "A Frost Giant in the Amazon? I think not."

Second. "Middle of the Bermuda Triangle? Know enough aliens already, thank you."

Third. "Inside and active volcano? Fenrir's arsehole." He scoffed.

Fourth. "Very well. Maine it is."

The god settled in a vacant Victorian evicting its two following buyers with 'ghostly' shenanigans. Yet to the king of this miniature palace's annoyance the next didn't frighten so easily.

Alexis was proud having bought her own house after a long divorce. Closer to friends and hours from meddling family, she'd thought herself free of troubles until sensing the place haunted. While unpacking, items started going missing and resurfacing in different places like her keys, clothing and once her vibrator after an evening of ménage à moi, disturbingly appeared in her dishwasher the next morning. Doors would slam, electricity short circuited, faucets unexpectedly ran, but most disconcerting was a voice randomly whispering 'mine' into her ear. Whether in the shower, her yard, doorways, the ghost didn't care. Alexis burned sage, had the house blessed, held a seance with a local paranormal group, but nothing helped. When returning after a long day at work to find half the main floor repacked, she angrily shouted into the air.

"Ha ha, trickster! You don't scare me and I am 'not' leaving!" She held up a large envelope. "This is 'my' crib and here's the deed to prove it. Show yourself dammit!" Nothing happened so she put everything back, showered, grabbed her vibrator and stormed into the upstairs corridor. "And one more thing! See this? Touch it again and I'll summon your ass with a ouija board and douse you in holy water!"

Loki inwardly chuckled. 'I'll be sure to bring a towel.' When she fell asleep reading in bed, he snuck a peek at what had intrigued her. 'Smutty fanfiction? Tisk, darling. Who could your heartthrob be? The name sounded familiar so he googled it. 'Ah, the actor from Crimson Peak. Good movie, but I'm much better looking. 'A wicked grin curled his lips when she moaned Tom's name. 'Maybe I need to play a little 'dirtier.'

With the next several days uneventful, Alexis thought she'd frightened the ghost off when in reality he was buying time. Since moving her in friends offered extra hands in their free time, but it was her befriended neighbor, a single gay man with a flamboyant, funloving personality who'd helped the most. They met one afternoon when she peered over his fence to complain about blaring Salsa music as he hosted a pool party. Felipe was sunbathing in a yellow thong, wearing sunglasses with enough bling to impress Liberace and choked on a shot of tequila when she whipped a pebble at his head. He invited her over with a promise to adorn shorts, they hit it off and became besties.

Alexis planned to have other friends over for dinner one month after moving in, but with all the goings on had postponed twice. Now with a set date, Felipe was invited too and asked what she planned to cook.

"Who said anything about cooking? I suck at it Amigo and prefer no one hurling on my lawn."

She waved a take out menu and he dramatically gasped. "Chinese food for eight people? Where you gonna put up you blow job booth to pay the mortgage after?"

Alexis smirked. "You're such a slut, Felipe."

He shrugged. "Happy whoopie stick makes a happy me."

"I think I've forgotten what they look like."

"I show you mine, but no touchy touchy." She laughed, knowing he was kidding. "Too long without sex causes brain damage, niña. How long its been for you?"

"Since my ex and I separated nineteen months ago."

"Ay dios mio. I lend you my Dustbuster for the cobwebs down there."

"Not funny, Felipe."

"See. Abstinence makes everyone bitchy. My sister Maritza too. She was happy single before becoming a nun. Now she's Oscar the grouch with eyes like the chucky doll."

"How come you can pronounce words like 'abstinence' and 'cock' so well yet not others?" Alexis teased.

"Don't make me spank you. Come, we go shopping."

"For what?"

"I help you cook. We stay home and talk about cock, mine will curse me in Spanish. He's lonely too."

Alexis slipped on footwear.

"Why you wearing those?" Asked Felipe.

"What's wrong with flip flops?"

He stepped onto the porch. "You need something sexier, like bitch boots."

"It's ninety degrees in the shade today."

"So?"

Loki sighed when the door closed, relieved for some peace. He thought Felipe annoying enough as a neighbor yet worse as a guest who never stopped talking. So much so, he'd pondered concocting a tongue numbing spell, sneaking into his house and applying a heavy dose while he slept. But knowing his flair for drama, he'd run panicked to Alexis in the Boo from Monsters Inc. robe worn onto his deck every morning, carrying a note pleading to stay and until recovering, would hysterically sob each time he couldn't sing along to one of the show tunes on his phone. Loki opted to tolerate him for now. He'd be gone once Alexis left.

The day of feasting came and while she handled finishing touches around the house, Felipe prepared guacamole dip and ingredients for fajitas while mixing margaritas. Hearing music, Alexis snuck to the kitchen and started recording him singing to Bad Girl, by Donna Summer while dancing like a hussy.

"Toot toot, hey, beep beep

Toot toot, hey, beep beep

Hey mister, have you got a dime?

Hey mister, do you want to spend some time, ooh yeah

I got what you want, you got what I need

I’ll be your baby, come and spend it on me…"

He startled when noticing her. "Girlfrien', you post that on social media, I kill you."

Alexis propped her phone on the counter and joined in wildly shaking her chest.

Felipe tried the same. "No fair. I need big titties like yours to jiggle. Next time I bring tangerines and a bra."

Loki secretly watched on. 'Fucknuts.'

The three couples soon arrived. One, old neighbors of Alexis, Blake and Deidre, the others, her friends, Sage, Lisa and their newest flames Colby and Grant. She started a tour on the main floor then the upper leaving her bedroom for last. Excited to show it off, she was already opening the door as they shuffled out of the second.

"And this is my creme de la...eep!" She quietly squeaked once inside.

The resident spookster sat perched against her headboard sporting only what the Norn's delivered him to the universe in and winked pouring himself a whiskey. "You did say show myself, yes?"

She hurried out, slammed the door and her friends froze on approach. "Erm..wouldn't ya know I forgot to make my bed. Anyone for a drink?"

Alexis passed them for the stairs and cringed when Deidre spoke. She was nice enough, but sometimes persistent when it wasn't welcome. "Nonsense, friends don't care. Right everyone?"

Alexis continued down. "Enter at your risk then."

Felipe watched her rush by into the pantry, close the door, followed and closed it too. "What you are doing?"

"I can't go back out there."

"Why?"

"He's upstairs naked on my bed." She anxiously whispered.

"Which boyfriend? I take up the wooden spoon."

"No, the fucking ghost!"

"It's a man? Is he hot and what do I tell your peeps? You afraid to come out of the closet?"

"Felipe!"

"Sorry, it's the margaritas."

"I thought you the one person who believed my stories."

He eyed her sympathetically. "I do. You want I go bribe him to leave with a mcsqeezy?"

"Will you be serious? Ghosts aren't supposed to be naked. One look at him and everyone will think I invited them for an orgy."

Blake and Grant came down first catching bits of their conversation and quietly conversed.

"Can't believe she's still imagining this ghost." Blake wise cracked. "I always told Deidre she had a screw loose."

"Nah." Said Grant. "Lexi's a smart cookie. Sounds more like she needs a man. There's one inside with her. Maybe they'll shag, knock some shit off shelves."

Felipe stuck his head out the door. "You not so quiet, cumquats. I gay. You want I show you my jolly green giant and shag 'you' inside against the creamed corn?"

Loki rubbed the back of his neck. 'I sacrificed prowling beaches of the French Riviera for this?'

Hearing the ladies coming, Alexis approached Blake and quietly inquired. "Still peeing in your wife's pond at night, murdering her koy? I'd see you through my bedroom blinds. Who's a few cans short of a six pack?"

"Oooh snap." Said Felipe.

Grant nudged the arse. "Let's chill in the dining room. There's a makeshift bar and appetizers."

The ladies entered the kitchen. "Who's a nincompoop?" Asked Deidre.

Felipe almost answered but pursed his lips together when Alexis loudly cleared her throat. "You know, just my ex."

"He sure is, honey."

"Your bed's made, girl." Said Sage. "The room looks great."

They all agreed passing through while thirty year old Lisa's younger boyfriend lingered. "Pretty awesome digs ya got here."

"Thanks." Replied Alexis.

Colby slid his hands into his pockets. "Soo..Lisa says you think it's haunted."

"Yep."

He spaced out for a second, staring at the floor. "I once thought a bat in our house was my dead uncle Howie haunting my parents for selling his mannequin of Vlad the Impaler. But hey, sometimes weird shit happens when you're stoned right?" Alexis and Felipe were saved when Lisa called him. "She misses me already. Laters."

"He looks fresh from his madres panocha." Commented Felipe.

"That's the way Lisa likes them. Says the younger they are, the easier it is to train them."

Loki rolled his eyes. 'Age is irrelevant.'

Felipe feigned fright by playfully biting his nails. "She bad. Maybe Colby wear a leash and bark like a good doggy for her?" He goofily imitated one in a deep voice. "Woof, woof..woof. Or maybe he sound like an angry chihuahua?"

Alexis smirked. "I have my own problems. A streaking phantom who now makes unexpected appearances."

Felipe gave her a margarita. "Cheers. These make everything better."

Alexis gulped down the beverage as he watched with raised brows. "Thanks. Next time that streaker appears, I'll just ignore him."

"Next time I give you smaller glass. Go enjoy you friends, niña"

She gave a thumbs up on her way out. "I got this. Easy peasy right?"

Loki mischievously grinned. 'Darling, I'm just getting started.

#Loki #others #submission #Submitted fic #velvetzybanshee #lokilover 9 #chapter 1 #The Naughty Poltergeist

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