#and most of us aren't equipped to deal with that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

quintinh43 · 3 months

Text

Heavy Heads and Heavy Hearts | Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn gets injured as a game. His girlfriend takes him and cares for him.

Pairings: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, Head injury, food, angst, mentions of vomiting (no actual vomiting)

Notes: Hi guyss! Hope everyone is doing ok! Injured Quinn got the most votes, so here we are! This one is the longest one ive done so far, I definitely did not mean for it to be as long as it is but here we are. Also, im not a professionl in any way, so i cant say this is concussion accurate. I just went off of my experience in dealing with athletes that have Concussions, and my own Concussions lol. Anywaysss I hope yall enjoy. Love Soph.

---

There was something so gut-wrenching about watching the man you love get injured. One second, Quinn was cutting quickly around the back of the net, and the next, he was getting slammed into the boards hard. It was nothing. You get hit, you get up, and you keep going. It was simply a part of hockey.

Except this time, Quinn wasn't getting up. He wasn't moving at all. You stand up, heart in your throat. The room feels like it's tilting. The sharp shrill of the refs whistle cut through the air, stopping the play as the refs skate over to where Quinn is lying motionless on the ice.

They are calling for medics. Your head is spinning with the worst possible scenarios as you excuse yourself from your seat and practically sprint to the locker room. One of the security members holds out a hand to stop you.

"Ma'am, you can't be here, please exit this area"

Great. Just fucking great. This is exactly what you need right now. The overwhelming need that aches in your bones demanding to know that Quinn is ok makes you want to cry. Because now this fucker won't let you through. And you're nearly too panicked to do anything about it.

The logical route would be pulling out Quinns wallet, that has his ID in it, and explaining that you are his girlfriend. But with your anxiety high, and your heart in your throat logic is not the first thing on your mind.

"Listen buddy," you start, ready to absolutely rip this guy a new one. Thankfully for him, one of the trainers who knows you happens to be exiting the locker room.

"Let her through, Jace, that's Hughes' girl" he says, waving you forward. The security guard- Jace apparently, lets you pass with a grumble.

By the time you get rink side, Quinn is (half) conscious- thank God, and being half carried off the ice by Petey and Boeser. He's transfered to the care of two medics, who sit him on a bench and begin to check him over.

One of them is asking him questions gently, both to keep him awake and assess the damage to his head. While the other stabilizes his neck. "Can you tell me your full name and today's date?" One of the medics asks.

"Quintin Jerome Hughes," he slurs, eyes fluttering, "its Feb'uary... twenty-second, twenty-twenty-four"

Your breath hitches. He got the date wrong. You can't help the panic that rushes through you. "Good job Quinn, do you know where you are?"

"Van, Roger's arena," he mumbles, "playing hockey"

"Good," the medic hums. "we need to take off your equipment to make sure you aren't injured anywhere else. Is that ok?"

"Y/n" he mumbles, eyes closing and head tilting forward, his head snapped back up a moment later, and if the other medic hadn't had his head stabilized he would probably have mild whiplash.

"Stay awake for us, Quinn. Is Y/n someone you'd like us to call?"

You spring forward at the mention of your name, "I'm here," you say, pushing past a couple of people who are standing around, ready to assist if the situation gets worse.

"My girl" Quinn slurs, his lips tilting into a small smile. Your heart flutters at that. In the midst of his delirium, he still cares about you dearly.

"Hello Y/n, I'm Sam," the guy who's been asking him questions, "and that's Kieran," he says, nudging his head towards Kieran, who gives a small smile.

"Do you think you could help us remove his equipment?"

"Yes absolutely, just tell me what to do" you say, glad that you can help.

"Can you remove his jersey and shoulder pads? Kieran needs to keep his neck stable, and I need to check for any other possible injuries. And keep him talking"

"Yeah, of course," you start by bending his elbow to slide it out of the sleeve of his jersey.

"Hey Quinny" you say softly, sliding his other arm out of his jersey "you played really really good today, I'm so proud of you"

"Thanks baby," he murmers, "glad you're here." He tries to lean his head against your chest, he huffs when Kieran doesn't let him, and you can't help but let out a breathy laugh, patting his head lovingly.

Kieran tilts his head to one side, allowing you to pull the jersey over his head. You deposit it in his cubby behind him and make quick work undoing his shoulder pads and pulling them off gently.

"I'm glad I'm here too. What do you wanna eat when we get home?"

Sam gently asks you to move out of the way so he can check Quinns upper body for injuries. The second you aren't doing something, the anxiety rises back to your chest. You take a deep breath and begin to unlace his skates. You pull them off, slipping a pair of slides on his feet so his socks don't get wet.

"Hmm" he hums in thought "potatos...?"

You laugh, "Alright Quinny. We'll have potatos"

Finally after palpating his whole body to make sure he doesn't have any other major injuries, testing his reflexes, and asking him a bunch more questions. They diagnose him with a minor concussion, and give you a list of things to look out for.

They deem it safe enough to leave you alone with him for a little bit and tell you to change him into something more comfortable. It takes a bit of work to take off his hockey pants and shinguards and get him into a pair of sweats and a hoodie.

By the time you're done, the equipment manager and the medics have collected the rest of his equipment. After making sure his hockey bag is fully packed with everything, you grab his keys from your purse, while the EM helps you bring his bag to his car, and the medic helps you half carry him down.

He can mostly walk on his own, but better safe than sorry. On the ride home he keeps his head resting against the window, a cool compress is wrapped around his neck, and he's holding one over his eyes with one hand, while the other holds yours tightly.

You trace your thumb over the backs of his knuckles soothingly and keep him talking the whole way home. "What kind of potatoes do you want when we get home, Hon?"

"Can I change my mind?" He asks sheepishly. He's still talking very quietly and slurring his words a little, but the medics said that was nothing to worry about unless he started getting worse. So far, it was nothing to worry about.

"Of course my love, anything you want" you bring your intertwined hands to rest on your chest. It's a comforting weight over your heart, that you didn't know you needed until it was there.

Your phone lights up from the cup holder, it's a text from Petey, saying that the Canucks won the game. There are a few other texts, from his parents and brothers. You make a mental note to reply to them as soon as you get Quinn settled at home.

"Can we have noodles?" He mumbles.

"Yes, of course, love." You can't help but kiss the back of his knuckles. Watching Quinn get injured to the point of losing consciousness was not something you ever wanted to experience ever again.

"Your boys won, by the way," you say softly.

"The did?!" Quinns head shoots up front the window, and he is filled with instant regret as a sharp twinge shoots down his neck and to his shoulder.

"Ow fuck" he mumbles, laying his head back against the cool window.

"Careful love," you gasp, squeezing his hand.

"I know, I'm sorry," he mumbles, squeezing your hand back. You sigh, you have been on edge since he got injured, and it didn't look like the anxiety would dissipate for a while. You would just have to deal with it and try not to be an over bearing worry wart.

"You guys won 5-2" you smile, finally pulling into your apartment parking lot.

"I didn't do much except get my brains knocked around" he grumbles. "Some captain I am"

You scoff, flicking him in the nose lightly. "Don't sell yourself short, Quinny. Three of those points are yours."

Quinn wrinkles his nose and leans forward to bite your finger. You yelp, snatching it away with a glare. He sticks his tongue out at you, and you laugh, your chest feeling a little lighter than before.

"Come on, let's get you upstairs. " You say, undoing your seat belt and getting out of the car. You run around to his passenger side and open the door for him, and help him step out of the car. He throws an arm over your shoulder, and you wrap one around his waist. He's not as wobbly on his feet as he was earlier, but he still isn't at full strength.

Quinn squeezes his eyes shut and tucks his face against your hair. The florescent elevator lights were not pleasant in his state. "Can we keep the apartment lights off?" He mumbles against your hair.

"Sure love," you said rubbing your hand up and down his back soothingly, "we're almost home," you fish the keys out of your purse and unlock it. You toe your shoes off at the door while Quinn slips his off easily and you guide him to the couch.

"What do you want first, baby? Food or a shower?"

"I'm not really hungry" Quinn mumbles, laying on the couch and adjusting the ice pack under his neck. You sit on the couch handle, stroking his hair back from his forehead. "I know honey, but we should try to get something light in your system, if you're feeling upto it."

Quinn sighs. He knows you're right. "I can make you toast? Or a sandwich or something?" You offer, smoothing your thumb over his hairline.

"Do we have bagles?" He asks

"Yeah, we have bagles, I'll make you one of those?"

"Yes please," he mumbles, you plant a kiss on his forehead and go pop a bagle into the toaster, "can you do it with cream cheese and jam?" He asks, chewing on his lip nervously.

"Sure, Hon, I'm gonna make myself some tea. Do you want a cup?" You ask as you pull the cream cheese and jam out of the fridge.

"No thanks, I'm ok" he mumbles. After his bagle is done being made, you help ease him into sitting position, and sit next to him with your cup of tea. He eats a bit more than half the bagle, and you finish off the rest before deeming it time to shower.

You remember all the messages from his family, and quickly shoot them texts, saying that he's ok and you just got home and you'll talk more when he gets settled.

"I'm gonna put these back in the freezer while we shower, yeah?"

Quinn nods, handing the ice packs to you to put in the freezer. You help him up slowly and lead him to the bathroom. You keep the lights off and leave the door open so you have a little bit of light from the bedroom.

While the shower warms up, you grab a clean change of clothes for both you and Quinn and set them on the counter before helping Quinn strip. He has to brace an arm against the wall while you hold him steady with one hand and maneuver his clothes off with the other.

"I'm sorry," he murmers against your hair as you help him step into the shower.

"Oh Quinn, there's nothing to be sorry for," you say, sitting him on the shower seat.

"I'm sorry you have to take care of me like this." He huffs, resting his head against the cool Ike of the shower wall, "I feel so pathetic, " his voice cracks, and your heart nearly breaks.

"Quinn, my love, taking care of you is not a burden. It's a pleasure. I love you to the ends of the earth, and I would do anything for you, my sweets. " You kiss him on the forehead sweetly as if to prove your point.

He doesn't say much about it after that, but you can tell he still feels bad. You make quick work of washing his hair, being very careful of where a small bump has formed on his head. You scrub him down and rinse him off before shutting off the water.

You wrap a towel around yourself and then dry Quinn off gently before helping him change into his pajamas. "Let me change and then dry your hair a little bit before we have to put an ice pack on your head, ok?"

Quinn nods. He sits on the counter, leaning against the wall while you change into your pajamas. You plug in the hair dryer and dry his hair, keeping his head steady with one hand. As soon as his hair is no longer soaking wet, you help him off the bathroom counter and into bed. You grab the ice packs from the freezer and help him position them on his head and neck until he's comfortable.

"I'll be back in less than ten minutes, baby. I'm just going to grab your stuff from the car, ok?" You say pulling on a pair of sweats and a hoodie over your pajamas.

"Ok" Quinn mumbles, "I'll call if anything" he says patting his nightstand to make sure his phone is there.

You kiss him on the forehead and pull the bedroom door halfway closed so the light from the hall isn't too bright. Grabbing his car keys and your phone from the counter, you hit the call button on Ellen's contact as you slip out the door.

She picks up on the first ring "Hows he doing?" She asks immediately. She sounds distressed, maybe like she's been crying. You don't blame her. They probably haven't heard anything unless someone on the team contacted them, and you have no idea how bad it looked on TV.

"He's ok, Mrs. H, it's a mild concussion. His symptoms aren't worsening at all, and they said with some rest he'll be significantly better by tomorrow"

Her sigh of relief was unmatched. "He'll be out of play for a couple of weeks, but they just want to make sure he's back to 100% before he's playing again." The elevator finally opens, and you hit the button for the parking garage.

"Thank you so much, Y/n, im glad you're there with him. I know he's in good hands. I'll leave you be love, Jack and luke are super super anxious and would appreciate a call from you. Text me if anything happens."

"I will, Mrs. H, tell Mr. H I say hi"

"I will dear, thanks for taking care of our boy"

"Of course El, he's my boy too," you smile.

You swear you can hear Ellen smile over the phone. "We love you dear, I'll talk to you tomorrow ok. Don't forget to take care of yourself too"

"I will, I love you guys too. I'll text you updates"

"Alright, bye dear."

"Bye," you sigh, pressing the end call button, just as the elevator opens to the parking garage. As you press the button to open the trunk, you call Jack.

"Y/n," he huffs out, not even after a full ring. "How's Quinn? If he ok? What happened?" Before you can answer any of Jacks questions, Luke's voice cuts him off, "is Quinn ok? Are you guys at the hospital? It looked really bad -"

Before their panicked tangents can get worse, you interrupt them both. "Take a breath, you two," you say calmly, breathing exaggeratedly so they can copy you "in and out, relax. Quinn is ok. He's ok"

"He's ok?"

"He's ok" you repeat. You feel the tears start to build, and your voice cracks "He's ok"

"Oh Y/n." Jack says softly.

"It's ok, I'm ok" you say, more to yourself than to Jack as you wipe the tears away. "Hold on, gimme one sec." You say, setting down your phone as you pull Quinn's hockey bag out the car. You close the trunk, make sure the car is locked and head back to the elevator.

"Hi, sorry I'm back. I was just grabbing Quinn's stuff out the car."

"Can you tell us what happened?" Luke asks softly.

"He's got a concussion, and he's a bit bruised up, but other than that he's alright"

"Fuck, how bad is it?" Jack asks, the fear is evident in his voice, and you can't blame him. Concussions can be really bad sometimes.

"They said its a mild concussion, he's not throwing up at all, his memory is ok, he didn't injure his spine or anything, he'll be ok after a few days of rest. He probably wont be playing for a few weeks, but better safe than sorry."

"Oh thank God" both Jack and Luke huffed "isn't he not supposed to sleep for 24 hours after or something?" Luke asks.

You shake your head with a small smile "Thats a myth, Lukey. As long as I check on him every few hours its ok for him to sleep."

"Ohh, ok. Well that's good" Luke says.

"We are glad he has you Y/n, thank you for taking care of our brother."

"Always" you say softly.

"We'll let you go now, keep us updated?"

"I will, Jackie. You two get some rest, you have a big game tomorrow, love you guys"

"We love you too Y/n/n" both boys say, hanging up.

You sigh, leaving his bag at the door. "Y/n?" Quinns weak voice calls out from the bedroom. You rush to him immediately, scared that something is wrong.

"Yes, Quinny, I'm right here" you say kneeling beside the bed, and stroking his hair.

"You took long," he mumbles, pressing his lips against your wrist.

"I'm sorry love, I'm here now," you stand, stripping the hoodie and sweats off and climbing into bed next to him. You stay a little distance away, not wanting to hurt Quinn. But he grumbles at you, tugging on your shirt to get you to come closer. Normally, he would just grab you and pull you closer, but he's still weak.

"I don't wanna hurt you" you mumble, scooting closer so that you are tucked against his side. He tangles your legs together and rests his head against yours.

"Never" he says, pressing his lips to the side of your head. You rest one of your hands on his hip, under his shirt, stroking your thumb over his hip bone.

"How you feeling?" You ask softly.

"Beat" he mumbles "thanks for taking care of me"

"I'll take care of you for as long as you let me love" you say, pressing a gentle kiss to the underside of his jaw.

"Forever?"

"Forever."

---

Wc: 3.1k

#qh43 #quinn hughes #nhl imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #luke hughes #vancover canucks #jack hughes #hockey #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #nhl imagines #love soph

694 notes · View notes

saturnsbabyboii · 1 year

Text

🧿Ruler of the 12th house Through the Houses🧿

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

🧿Meaning and Symbolism of the 12th House🧿

The Twelfth House is the House of the Unconscious, the House of the Unseen, the House of Sorrow, Loss, Shadow, the Inner World, and Invisible Enemies. It is ruled by the sign Pisces and the planet Neptune (Jupiter in classic Western).

The unconscious state can help us create successes and cope with failures. This house could be called the House of Retribution and Fate because it is here we review where we have been, where we are, and decide where we are going. It also discusses hidden strengths and weaknesses. While placements in this house have an active role, the sign that resides over it and its planet of rulership and placement acts as a gateway into our psyche's deeper and hidden aspects. Our subconscious works tirelessly on our behalf to make sense of our lives. This shadow play is slow, drawn out, and frequently fraught with fear and pain. We are confronted with our sorrows, suffering, and the secrets we keep from ourselves and others.

Here we meet the outcomes of everything we've done. This emphasizes repressed desires and restraint even more. What we have created in our lives is a significant theme of the Twelfth House ruler placement, and we will deal with it both consciously and unconsciously. The unconscious can teach us a lot. We will be prompted to be charitable in its most noble form. We are better equipped to move forward if we learn our lessons, both past and present. The Twelfth House compels us to seek spiritual closure to aid positive growth. The twelfth house shows how you undermine yourself. It's also referred to as the house of secret enemies. But if you think about it, these enemies are very often in the place where you'd never look for them: in yourself. It contains many patterns of behavior that don't serve us Or are straightforward destructive! Loops that are repeating themselves over and over harm us in many ways. The worst is that you aren't even aware of them, and it often takes years to realize that something isn't right (this is why I love astrology, it quickens up the process of self-discovery).

Often, you build your own prisons. Most people are the captives of their own limitations and false beliefs. A way to let go is by finding the connection with the source. The twelfth house in your natal chart suggests issues holding you back. The last house ruler also recognizes where we can feel stuck and confined. It governs places that restrict freedom, such as prisons, hospitals, institutions, and asylums, to name a few. Danger, secret enemies, and secret affairs add to the lugubriousness of the Twelfth.

On the other hand, this house champions positive transformations. This is where we stand on the ridge and decide how to proceed. We can learn about the future by visiting the unconscious and meeting with the past. If the 8th is the house of cycle death and transformation, the 12th house is the house of the ultimate end, soul ascension.

-Note: This is for entertainment purposes only and should not be taken as professional advice.-

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 1st house🧿

The ruler of the 12th in the 1st can indicate that you have a deeply spiritual and intuitive nature. You may have a strong connection to the subconscious mind and are highly in tune with your emotions and those of others. As a result, you may naturally tap into the spiritual realm and receive messages or guidance from higher powers.

Mirroring yourself and being aware of your surroundings have been significant issues in your life. Depending on the signs/placements/aspects, you may be overly concerned with yourself, the impressions you leave, your place in the world, who you are, and how you can improve or change yourself and the world as a collective. This placement can also suggest a tendency towards self-sabotage or self-destructive behaviors, so staying grounded and aware of any negative patterns in your life is necessary. You need to be more open to expressing yourself and be completely authentic. Understanding grief, pain, solitude, loss, escapism, and the unknown and becoming aware of self-defeat and destructive behaviors will improve the relationship between your outer conscious persona and your inner true unconscious self.

Your emotions are one of the first things people notice about you. You wear your heart out for the world to see; even though your first impression is mysterious and difficult to pin down, your emotional state radiates through. This may make you feel like an outcast or an extraterrestrial. As such, you can form an internal image of yourself as a victim or someone who has suffered enough from the outside world. Your ability to express yourself is limited by your worldview and other people's perceptions. You may withdraw from your surroundings to maintain a sense of self and identity. Be wary of falling victim to constant daydreaming, escapism, and substance abuse (in extreme cases). You draw attention to your suffering, and your outlook on life is shaped by your encounters with unexplainable supernatural or paranormal events. You might feel isolated. People notice you as you have a spiritual perspective with a mystical and difficult-to-fully-grasp aura.

Be wary of associating with people who do not have your best interests at heart, as you undermine yourself. The 12th house deals with secret enemies, and yours may influence how you present yourself and your appearance. Don't fall victim to alleged healers, abusive lovers, enablers, difficult therapists, and associating with people of an unsavory caliber. Keep an eye out for red flags and people that force getting to know you hastily. Trust your gut feeling and intuition regarding what enters your life and what you're willing to share.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 2nd house🧿

The positioning of the 12th ruler in the 2nd suggests that there may be some hidden or subconscious fears or anxieties around money, possessions, or self-worth. As a result, you may feel the need for privacy and solitude when it comes to financial matters.

Finding solace, engaging in psychic activity, and recognizing self-sabotage all contribute to financial stability, defining personal values, and accumulating possessions. On top of that, incorporating meditation, dream work, and spiritual practice can positively impact your self-worth and self-esteem. However, experiencing intense grief and loss can have a negative effect on your self-esteem and make it difficult for you to recover from hardships quickly.

You may feel the urge to escape from the reality of working for a living, particularly when you can't afford the things you desire. This can have a severe impact on your mental health. Consider working in an environment that aligns with your intuition or imagination. You may also have a strong attachment to your belongings and a desire to become one with them. Engaging in dreamwork, meditation, spirituality, and counseling could help you increase your income or attain financial security. It's important to recognize that your escapes from reality can influence your financial stability, but you can use your alone time to increase your net worth and earn more money.

Having time alone is crucial for your well-being, as seclusion and isolation play a significant role in your spiritual growth. You may attend retreats to boost your self-esteem and self-worth. Participating in charitable work can help you put things into perspective and align your purpose in life with your values, particularly when loss and grief impact your values. When it comes to self-worth and money, it's easy to lose your boundaries. An unhealthy attachment to money and possessions can lead to self-destruction.

You may spend money as a way to escape, numb, or improve your mental state. However, depleting your resources can lead to stress and dependence. You may also fantasize about having more money. It's important to take time for self-reflection and trust your intuition when making financial decisions. Seeking the advice of a trusted financial advisor or therapist may also be helpful. Your spirituality, constant desire for growth, and good use of intuition are qualities to be proud of. Prioritize your well-being, and don't let money or possessions define your sense of self.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 3rd house🧿

The placement of the 12th house ruler in the 3rd house can significantly impact how a person thinks and communicates. This placement suggests a tendency to keep secrets and maintain privacy in daily interactions, as well as an interest in spiritual or mystical topics and a desire to uncover deeper meaning in intellectual conversations.

Furthermore, this placement can aid in communication, information gathering, and everyday interactions by providing solace, escapism, and awareness of self-sabotage. Those with this placement may be drawn to topics such as psychic and paranormal phenomena, conspiracy theories, folklore, kidnappings, and missing persons. They may even write about their experiences in prison or mental institutions or on topics related to mental health, spirituality, and the paranormal.

Individuals with this placement may work in fields such as hospital dispatch, prevention helplines, school counseling, or group-focused healing. They may also have a talent for singing and prefer one-on-one communication over group settings.

However, this placement can also lead to preoccupation with sorrow, grief, and loss, which may affect communication in everyday situations. These individuals desire meaningful connections with others and often incorporate their dreams and fantasies into their conversations and writing. Walking is a way to connect with the inner selves. However, they may also have experienced loss in their relationships with siblings. They can also be hidden enemies. Placing the 12th house ruler in the 3rd house can provide a unique perspective on communication style and internal information processing.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 4th house🧿

According to astrology, the ruler of the 12th in the 4th may cause hidden emotions or past traumas to affect your home life and family relationships. To improve emotional security, familial relationships, roots, and heritage, it is recommended to release grief and sorrow, practice solitude, and become aware of self-sabotage. Loss and grief can impact your psychological makeup, while loneliness can affect your emotional security. Dreams also have an impact on your emotional well-being.

You may experience sadness and loss through family relationships and grief and sorrow through parental relationships. You might welcome people down on their luck into your home and volunteer at a homeless shelter. However, you might also live with people who do not care about your well-being, and your secret adversaries might be right in your own home.

Privacy and alone time are important to you at home, and family ties can sometimes contribute to self-undoing. Encounters with your ancestors or roots may also contribute to self-undoing, as it is a family tradition. You might have a dreamy or otherworldly presence in your home and family, and you may practice spirituality, prayer, and meditation in the privacy of your own home.

Addressing these issues and working on healing is important to create a more harmonious living situation. This placement also indicates a need for solitude, introspection, and the potential for psychic or intuitive abilities. Exploring these spiritual gifts and utilizing them in your daily life is recommended. Remember to prioritize self-care and seek support from trusted friends or professionals.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 5th house🧿

With the position of the ruler of the 12th in the 5th house, you have a strong inclination towards expressing your creativity through spiritual or subconscious themes. Your personal experiences in finding solace, escape, engaging in psychic activity, and even self-sabotage are all influential factors in the way you channel your creativity, hobbies, risk-taking, romantic pursuits, and interactions with children. Notably, even your grief and sorrow can contribute to your creative work, such as music, art, theater, photography, or dance, which can have a dreamlike quality and may even involve entities from other worlds.

Your passion for physical self-expression is evident in your participation in sports programs and artistic endeavors and your involvement in charitable activities related to it. However, when alone, you tend to express your spirituality through creative pursuits, such as writing spiritual music, creating spiritual imagery, and meditating on paintings. You also have a strong interest in surreal photography and exploring spirituality and the paranormal.

It is important to note that your relationships with children may trigger feelings of grief and sorrow, and you may struggle with self-sabotage in matters of pleasure and romance. Therefore, to experience personal growth and fulfillment, you must delve deeper into any underlying fears or limiting beliefs that may prevent you from thoroughly enjoying these aspects of life.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 6th house🧿

The positioning of the ruler of the 12th in the 6th house indicates that you may have a tendency to withdraw from work or health-related activities and prefer solitude. This could make it difficult for you to maintain a routine or a healthy lifestyle, leading to feelings of guilt or inadequacy.

You find solace, escape, and psychic activity in activities that help improve your health, work, routine, and animal interaction. Your interactions with animals may lead to feelings of sadness and loss, but they also help you connect with your spiritual side. You receive health advice through your dreams and working with charities is a regular part of your routine. However, working in places like hospitals, prisons, or other institutional settings is also a regular part of your job, exposing you to grief, loss, and sadness. You deal with grief one step at a time.

Your desire to escape reality affects your work. You dislike routine, office jobs, or conforming to set schedules. You may be unfocused at work and daydream a lot, but you bring creativity to your daily work. You may feel loss and sorrow through interactions with coworkers and employees. They may be your secret enemies, and you are more likely than others to lose your job due to your own undoing or that of a coworker. You want your work to be a part of you, but it may also bring you suffering through servitude.

You feel more comfortable completing daily tasks when you are alone, but you need to work on being more methodical when it comes to your health. You approach your interests from a spiritual perspective and practice meditation to improve your health. Health problems may cause you grief and loss, and too much alone time may also be detrimental to your health. You have a creative approach to nutrition and health. You communicate with spirits through animals, have a strong appreciation towards spirit representations of animals, and build strong emotional bonds with animals. However, your self-undoing may also come through animals.

It is important to remember that self-care is crucial to your well-being, and seeking support from others can help you overcome any challenges you may face. So stay positive and persevere to find a balance that works for you and achieve success in your personal and professional life.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 7th house🧿

When the ruler of the 12th house is positioned in the 7th house, it can indicate a significant correlation between concealed apprehensions and intimate relationships. This specific placement may suggest that the individual might encounter difficulties in releasing past traumas or hidden secrets within their relationships. Furthermore, it can indicate a desire for privacy and a need to keep certain aspects of their relationships hidden from others. Releasing grief and sorrow, solitude, escapism, psychic activity, and becoming aware of self-sabotage serves cooperation, conflict, significant partnerships, and negotiations.

You experience sadness and loss through substantial relationships. You get in touch with your spiritual side through marriage and committed partnership. You marry an ex-con. Dreams show you your marriage partner. You have an otherworldly, spiritual connection with your significant other. Involvement with people who need help affects your significant relationships. Your grief and sorrow affect your relationships. You express sadness to your partners. Your approach to significant relationships is dreamy and unfocused. You bring imagination to your partnerships. You sabotage yourself in significant partnerships. You want to experience complete bliss with your partner. You experience complete merging with your partner. Your partner desires to escape from reality as much as you do. You lose your boundaries when it comes to significant relationships. You transcend boundaries through significant relationships.

Your experiences with loss and sadness fuel a business venture. You become a lawyer on behalf of a hospital or charitable organization. Your interest in paranormal and psychic phenomena affects your significant partnerships. There is a tendency to trauma bond and develop a codependent relationship.

You experience loss, grief, and sadness when relating to others. Your desire to escape reality affects your ability to maintain a serious relationship. You experience spiritual connections with other people, particularly angelic or ethereal beings. You find release through getting to know partners intimately, whether through couple therapy or something small such as playing question and relationship games.

It is highly recommended for individuals with this placement focus on addressing and releasing any concealed fears or emotional baggage to sustain healthy and fulfilling relationships.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 8th house🧿

When the governing planet of the twelfth house is situated in the eighth house, it can exert a profound influence on an individual's existence. This celestial positioning implies a pronounced inclination towards investigating the enigmatic aspects of existence, such as the subject of death and the afterlife. Such persons with this placement may possess heightened levels of intuition or extrasensory perception, facilitating their immersion into the world of the unseen. They may also gravitate towards spiritual pursuits such as meditation, yoga, or energy healing.

However, those with this placement tend to be highly reticent and guarded about their private lives. They may harbor deeply rooted fears and insecurities, which they keep concealed from the outside world. Owing to the twelfth house's proclivity towards escapism, these individuals may be vulnerable to self-destructive or addictive behaviors.

On a positive note, this placement also signifies the potential for immense personal growth and metamorphosis. By confronting their fears and traversing the depths of their subconscious mind, individuals can attain an enhanced comprehension of both themselves and the world at large. They may also possess a natural talent for counseling and aiding others who may be undergoing similar tribulations.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 9th house🧿

If the ruler of the 12th house is located in the 9th house, it suggests a strong inclination toward seeking spiritual knowledge and higher education through introspection and solitude. In addition, this placement implies a deep interest in exploring foreign cultures and beliefs and a desire for travel and adventure. However, it is important to note that individuals with this placement may tend to escape or avoid responsibilities, as the 12th house ruler signifies a need for retreat or withdrawal from the outside world.

Engaging in activities such as seeking solace, exploring psychic abilities, and becoming aware of self-sabotage can help broaden horizons, travel, publish, and explore foreign cultures and belief systems. However, recognizing that traveling and meeting people from different countries can lead to exposure to grief and despair in the world, which may lead to feelings of sadness and loss. Moreover, one's belief system may also contribute to self-undoing, mainly if it is dogmatic or rigid.

Higher education can provide a path toward spiritual exploration, while dreams can serve as a means of travel and awaken one's, inner explorer. Religious practices may also be approached from a spiritual or otherworldly perspective. Nevertheless, loss and sadness may affect one's relationship with faith and religion and interactions with people from other cultures.

Fascination with paranormal and psychic phenomena may also influence one's belief system, while interest in such activities may fuel the desire to travel. In addition, it may inspire individuals to become journalists. First, however, it is vital to ground oneself in practical realities and pursue spiritual and intellectual interests while fulfilling responsibilities in daily life.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 10th house🧿

The ruler of the 12th house in the 10th house could mean that the person is strongly inclined towards being alone and reflecting on their career or public image. It suggests that they might have an unconscious desire to withdraw from the world and seek inner peace, but they may find it challenging to balance this with their work life.

Attaining acknowledgment and discovering a rewarding occupation can be aided by surmounting grief, isolation, evasion, and self-sabotage while heightening extrasensory perception. Nonetheless, interactions with authoritative figures may also instigate feelings of melancholy and deprivation, and aspirations and societal status can lead to self-defeating behavior. Similarly, parental bonds and reputation can also evoke sorrow. Striving towards spiritual objectives can enable you to channel your creativity and actualize your aspirations, even potentially leading to a position as a CEO. Your spiritual outlook toward career and achievements brings mindfulness to your professional pursuits, yet your encounters with sorrow and despair may impede your ascent to the top. Your fascination with paranormal and extrasensory phenomena, alongside your losses and publicly expressed dismay, may be widely acknowledged. Escapism could obstruct tangible accomplishments, rendering you renowned for your escapist tendencies. You may yearn for absolute elation and unification with your public persona, but this may result in the dissolution of boundaries and transcending them while pursuing your dreams.

To achieve a sense of harmony between these two seemingly divergent paths, these individuals must discover methods to honor their need for privacy and reflection while simultaneously pursuing their aspirations and objectives in the public sphere. Through conscientious attention to both their inner and outer worlds, those with this placement can successfully attain both personal fulfillment and professional achievement.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 11th house🧿

If an individual's ruling planet of their 12th house lies in the 11th house, they may tend to avoid social situations and feel disconnected from groups. This can pose a challenge in forming deep connections with others, despite having a strong sense of the collective unconscious and a desire to aid others through spiritual or humanitarian activities. Furthermore, this placement may imply a need for solitude for clarity and rejuvenation. Through the release of emotions and embracing alone time, one can form connections with like-minded individuals, work towards social reform, achieve long-term goals, and foster friendships and admirers. This arrangement also allows one to explore psychic abilities and overcome self-destructive behavior.

Participating in social causes and making friends can positively affect one's ability to cope with feelings of sadness and loss. However, group participation can also lead to self-destructive behavior due to mob mentality or groupthink. Therefore, balancing the internal world and social interactions is crucial to enrich one's life. The desire to become involved in spiritual activities with like-minded people with similar interests and goals can be a powerful motivator to become a social reformer. Dreams can offer guidance toward achieving objectives and becoming a force for positive change. While partaking in group activities can be advantageous, it is essential to ensure that one's friends share similar interests and aren't merely a means of escapism. Striking a balance between solitude and social interaction can result in connecting with one's spiritual side, forming meaningful connections with others, and accomplishing objectives.

🧿The ruler of the 12th house in the 12th house🧿

If the ruler of the 12th house is also situated in the 12th house, it could signify that the individual possesses a deep sense of introspection and spirituality. Such people may tend to withdraw from others and feel compelled to engage in self-destructive behaviors. For individuals with this placement, it is extremely important to prioritize their mental and emotional well-being since they may be susceptible to depression and escapism. It would be beneficial for them to dedicate time to dealing with their sorrows and pain, spending time alone, exploring their psychic abilities, and identifying any self-destructive tendencies that they may have.

Dealing with grief and sadness can be overwhelming and leave you feeling lost and confused. It's important to give yourself permission to process those emotions instead of trying to suppress them through meditation or isolation. While solitude can provide some comfort, it can also worsen feelings of sadness and loneliness. You may find comfort in connecting with your spiritual side if you have psychic abilities. Additionally, involving yourself in social work or charitable pursuits can help you better comprehend and empathize with those who are experiencing grief and sadness. Remember, seeking support and assistance whenever you need it, whether incarcerated or hospitalized, is perfectly acceptable.

Excessive isolation, confinement, acts of altruism, and intense emotional bonds with individuals or spiritual practices can cause self-undoing. Additionally, being overly susceptible to unconscious forces can exacerbate this issue. In such circumstances, an elevated state of awareness may encounter difficulty discerning actuality from deception.

If you wish to connect with your spiritual side, you can take two distinct paths. The first option is to fully dedicate yourself to a monastic lifestyle. The second option is to delve into the depths of your subconscious through your dreams. This process allows you to tap into the collective unconscious and better understand yourself and the world around you.

You possess a deep spiritual understanding, as evidenced by your approach toward prisoners. By counseling those in need, you can offer guidance and support to those who may feel lost or alone.

Your imagination is truly remarkable, and it's clear that you possess a high level of sensitivity. These qualities allow you to connect with others on a deeper level and to offer unique insights and perspectives that others may not be able to provide. Overall, your spiritual depth and insightful nature make you a truly remarkable individual. However, with a heightened sense of self-awareness and a solid commitment to personal growth, individuals with this placement have the potential to access profound insights and spiritual wisdom that can significantly enhance their lives.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I hope you enjoyed this post. Please let me know what you think, I appreciate the feedback. (Even if I don't respond 😅)

2K notes · View notes

radiant-reid · 10 months

Note

okay but dad!spencer taking paternity leave?! would that not be the cutest thing in the world?

the absolute cutest, i've got to expand

"I'm home!" You call out when you come through the front door, placing your bag on the side table and taking your shoes off.

Spencer comes down the hallway to meet you in the foyer, wrapping you in a hug. "Hi, honey. Missed you."

You grin before pulling back to quickly kiss him. "Missed you too, baby. And there's the actual baby." You coo, looking down the hallway at where she's making a fast crawl down across the hardwood floor.

She must have recognized your voice, probably sensed the excited tone in Spencer's voice, and came crawling.

You kneel down, reaching out for her. "My sweet girl, come here."

She crawls to you, using your legs to stabilize herself while she stands up. "Momma, up!"

"Maisie!" You cheer back, swooping her up into your arms. "You've been good for Daddy today?"

"You're always good for Daddy, aren't you?" Spencer says as he takes her little baby fingers and pretends to bite them. It makes her giggle in your arms at his playfulness. "You wanna show Momma our new trick?" He asks her, sounding more eager himself.

You love getting to see their new tricks, even if they're just Spencer pretending to chew at her fingers. "Okay, let's go."

"It needs extra equipment." He tells you, hyping it up with recognizable joy like whatever it is, is the most amazing thing in the world.

Maisie must realize what Spencer's rambling about because she starts babbling as you enter the living room. You notice the blocks on the floor, arranged in a tower that there's no way she could touch the top of.

"Come here, baby." He says, reaching out for Maisie. You hand her over, patiently waiting for their trick. He supports her with one hand on her stomach and the other on her legs like she's having tummy time. She appears to know her role in their rehearsed trick and holds out her arms in front of her with a mischievous look in her eyes.

Spencer pushes her forward and she puts all her force into knocking the tower over, blocks scattering over the rug.

Her laughter is instantaneous and so wild you'd believe it was the funniest thing in the world to her, and it's too contagious a sound for you not to also laugh. Spencer's laughing with you, clearly proud for inspiring such joy in her.

"That was amazing!" You say, clapping at her. "The best trick I've ever seen."

Spencer pulls her back upright, kissing her cheek to celebrate their victory. "I agree. That laugh is better than any magic trick of mine." He rests his forehead against hers while she puts her tiny baby palms on his cheeks. "You're just such a smart girl, aren't you?"

"So smart." You agree. "Just like her Daddy."

"I guess I am smart." Spencer shrugs, moving to sit down next to you with Maisie in his lap. "For marrying the most beautiful woman alive."

You grin at his compliment so he knows it's received, appreciated, and your next comment is just a joke. "And those three PhDs."

He chuckles. "Still, I think that being about to seal the deal with you is the most impressive."

You look around the room at the happy space you've created, where even the worst days don't feel too bad, and then back at him, the love of your life. "This is really the whole deal, isn't it?"

"It truly is."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid x y/n

575 notes · View notes

violet-butterflies · 10 months

Text

❥︎ yandere! Villain Headcanons

❥︎ Warnings ! ☞︎︎︎ stalking, violence, gore, angst ☞︎︎︎ A/N If you recognized this character then you probably read my work from Quotev. Or I might be wrong and my story might be more generic and/or similar to another author's work than I thought lmao. ( male yandere! oc x gn reader )

❥︎ yandere! Villain who disguises as a hero he killed earlier that week. He purposely caused a huge chaos in town where he can come in and pretend to help! After that, he can always go into the hero's circle and infiltrate the hero's defense systems and take the hero's powers all for himself!

❥︎ yandere! Villain who is betrayed as a child by the very heroes that are supposed to protect him and his small village. Now, equipped with shadow powers that allow him to absorb and transform into the heroes he's killed, he is gonna hunt for the most powerful hero in town!

❥︎ yandere! Villain who meets the hero's overworked sidekick. No matter, you won't be a problem in his master plan at all.

❥︎ yandere! Villain who is frustrated about how the hero barely shows up to most of the chaos he and his minions have caused. For god's sake, he made sure to cause trouble for the whole week so he could pretend to be friends with the hero and gain more intel! Why are you the one showing up to deal with all this?!

❥︎ yandere! Villain who has to change his plans due to how much the hero was not showing up. Maybe he can use you to hunt the hero down! After all you are his sidekick and, he must say, your company is not half bad!

❥︎ yandere! Villain who spends a lot of time with you to gain your trust; hoping that is he gets close enough you'd take him to the hero's hideout! But wait, why are you actually interesting?

❥︎ yandere! Villain who finds out you were betrayed by the heroes too. He can't help but sympathize with you but he just doesn't get how you still want to join forces with them. In fact, it only pushes you to protect the people even more! Not only that, he even found out that the hero barely does anything to help you if the crime is not big enough to take any significant credit! He can't help but feel a big need to protect you from people that are clearly taking advantage of you. This also makes him want to tear the hero down even more for taking advantage of your undeserved kindness.

❥︎ yandere! Villain who finds a lot of things in common with you and eventually hangs out with you for no reason on top of a building somewhere when nothing is happening. You were so sweet and kind! He wants to stop disguising himself because he feels bad fooling you. He's sure you'd fall in love care for who he really is anyways because it's his personality you've been hanging out with this whole time!

❥︎ yandere! Villain who finds out your real identity and where your family lives. Apparently, they live far away from the big city. Perfect! Now he has a way to get you out of the city for his master plan. You won't be there to help the hero. and you will be safe in case anything goes wrong.

❥︎ yandere! Villain who is pretending to feel sympathy for your mom who apparently got harassed by a thug and needed to be hospitalized. Oh you needed to go home for a few weeks to take care of your mom? Don't worry about it, he'll make sure to keep the city safe! tell your mom that he's sorry for beating her up

❥︎ yandere! Villain who summons a murderous demon to massacre the city! Now that you aren't here to help the hero, he's free to let loose and do as much damage he can to draw the hero out and kill him! He doesn't even have to do a thing! All he has to do is to be a vessel for the demon and he can watch under his subconscious!

❥︎ yandere! Villain who is in a panic since instead of the hero, you were the one that showed up. What were you doing here?! You're supposed to be with your mom! No no! You can't handle this yourself! Y/N GET OUT OF HERE YOU'LL DIE! PLEASE GET OUT OF HERE I DON'T WANT TO HURT THE PERSON I LOVE!

❥︎ yandere! Villain who gains back control when it is too late. Lying on the concrete streets is the broken and bruised body of his beloved sidekick. You are covered in bruises and blood. Multiple stab wounds covered your body and you were missing a whole arm. On top of that, crimson blood oozed out of you and you were losing heat quick. He doesn't even bother to hide his true identity since he wants you to see who he actually was at least once.

❥︎ yandere! Villain who is crying while he apologizes to your unconscious body. His whole body is shaking as he tries his hardest to find any solution to fix the problem he caused.

❥︎ "Please y/n wake up! I'm so sorry! Please don't leave me alone! You've barely even met me! The real me! So please open your beautiful eyes and tell me that everything is going to be ok!"

❥︎ yandere! Villain who shoots a sharp glare to the hero and lets out a string of profanities when the hero showed up late, witnessing the villain hug the body of his sidekick; he himself can't help but stare, feeling mortified and remorse.

❥︎ yandere! Villain who takes you to his hideout where he keeps you hooked up on all sorts of machines to keep your body alive until he can fully bring your soul back from the other side.

❥︎ yandere! Villain who swears on vengeance to the hero and promised himself to properly protect you from everything including himself from then on.

❥︎ "I promise y/n. I'll save you and we'll get to know each other properly this time. When the time comes, I'll let you punish me for hurting you and I'll keep you safe from everything including me."

#yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere x y/n #yandere x oc #yandere x reader #yandere #tw: yandere #tw: stalking #angst #lovesick #male yandere x reader #yandere villain #villain x hero #yandere headcanons #yandere hcs

1K notes · View notes

oh-koenig-my-koenig · 6 months

Text

Metalhead!König at a festival

Tis the season – Festival season – SFW and NSFW

More Stuff in the Masterlist

(cw: alcohol/drugs, semi-public sex, smut, MDNI 18+)

On the way to the festival, I’m living the best passenger princess life, sitting beside him, navigating the GPS, feeding him snackies (he loves little brezels and gummyworms) and most importantly DJing the whole time while driving to the festival. Songs of all the bands we want to go see live are blasting from the speakers and when I start to sing along, König chimes in.

He has an old VW van T4 that he rebuilt himself, so that the back of it actually transforms into a quite comfy bed, one that even accommodates his size.

The trunk of the van is filled with gear and gadgets, there's nothing that he didn't think about.

A plastic pavilion to get a little bit of shade in the blistering summer sun. A camping table and two chairs (even though I don't know why he bothered to get me my own because he always coaxes me to sit in his lap) ((maybe that's why we have a second one because I don't think the small thing can withstand our combined weight for long)). A portable sound system. A bunch of hardware tools, a camping cooker and some equipment for it. Like for example the little espresso can because even at a festival the big guy needs his proper coffee (and not some kind of "instant crap" – his words).

At least I could hold him off from bringing our own beer tap because that would've been ridiculous.

And of course, he brought a grill, he would've even brought one if it weren't allowed.

I mean, he's Austrian and even though the neighbors from Germany are much more known for their fondness for grilling as soon as the temperatures rise over 10 degrees celsius, he still loves it.

I'm just rolling my eyes and laughing when he starts to light the coals pretty early in the morning. But I'm not complaining because he chooses to do so shirtless, showing off his broad muscled chest and the plethora of tattoos on his torso.

The black cargo shorts are hanging low on his hips, the belt holding them in place, the waistband of his boxershorts showing a little bit which accentuates the V of his hips. And don't even get me started on the happy trail leading down.

I'm ogling him shamelessly, sitting in my chair and making some coffee on the burner for us.

(He's also wearing some of his old combat boots, and he reassured me that the weird looking stains on them aren't actually blood. (I still don't believe him))

He looks like such a metalhead dad as he's standing at the grill, a beer in hand and just happily humming along to the melodies blasting from the speaker.

It makes me happy to see him like this because I don't know much about his work, he rarely talks to me about it and it has to be a burden, but right now he seems like he doesn't have a care in the world.

I catch him grinning at me, shaking the almost empty beer can and downing the last bit. I giggle, jump up and go get him a new one from the little freezer box.

With two fresh cans of beer, I stroll over to him, handing him one. His arm wraps around me and I can already see the mischief sparkling in his eyes as he's looking down on me. "Ex oder Franzos.", he tells me, taunting me. (He told me once what this means ‘either down your beer or you're french’ which apparently is an insult?? I don't know what the Austrians are on either)

"Nooo, I’m not gonna shotgun with you right now.", I wail.

"Oh, come on, it's just one beer.", he grins at me.

I put my hands on my hips, looking up at him all scolding. "Well, maybe one beer isn't a big deal for you, big guy." He just laughs and nonetheless drinks half his beer with one big gulp, the little show-off. Ever since he knows what a lightweight I am, he likes to tease me about it. Stupid big tall man.

The sun shines down like crazy which gives me the opportunity to apply sunscreen too him as often as I can.

"I get the feeling you're not doing this for the well-being of my skin.", he tells me, sideeyeing me while my hands move over his shoulders and pecs, making sure every inch is covered.

"I don't know what you mean.", I answer innocently, making him pull his hair out of the way with a nod, and moving on to his tattooed back, skimming over the smooth skin with my fingertips, massaging over the tense muscles.

When I'm finished, finally having applied enough sunscreen on the huge man, he snatches up the bottle, puts a little dollop on his hands and goes straight for my boobs.

"We can't have you getting a sunburn either!", he explains with a serious expression on his face while he shamelessly kneads my bikini-clothed breasts, in the name of sun protection.

Food in the stage area is expensive but that doesn't stop him from buying me everything I think looks good. I need to actually hold him off from getting another portion of the little pancakes because I'm so full, I feel like bursting and I still wanna be able to mosh.

"But what about some ice cream?", he suggests, pointing at a little cart in the vicinity. "It might help us cool a bit down."

I tilt my head to the side, thinking about it, but only for a moment. "Okay, I think there still is room for some ice cream.", I agree and we make our way in the direction of the ice cream vendor.

“Oh, wait, we need to get more water!”, I yell out as I see the water station. I pull him with me by his hand, filling our water bottles and then taking off my shirt to wet it.

“Now, what is this? Wet t-shirt contest?”, he asks with a dirty smile on his face, his eyes travelling down my body.

“Yeah, you wanna join?”, I ask him wiggling my brows, which makes him laugh and shed his shirt in a second. He lets water run over it as well and then wrings the shirt out over his body, the water dripping down his pecs and abs, and I can’t help but stare with a slack jaw. He laughs again when he sees the expression on my face, but he puts the shirt back on.

He pulls me into him, pressing a little kiss to my temple, our wet clothes sticking together. “Come on, let’s get you that ice cream, sweet cheeks.”, he says, giving my ass a few loving pats.

We try and go to as many bands as possible which is becoming quite the workout for me. By midnight my feet are already hurting like crazy and I make the mistake of mentioning it to König because he demands to carry me now. After some discussion, we come to the agreement that a piggyback ride would suffice.

So now I'm clinging to König's back, my muddy shoes dirtying his pants with the way my legs are hugging his hips. His arms are reaching back, the hands crossed under my ass supporting my weight.

Festivals can get pretty filthy but that doesn't stop him from trying to get into my pants. The solution to the filthyness? Going showering.

Most of the festivals I've ever been to don't actually separate between men's and women's shower, so that's not an issue when we slip into one of the cabins together. Still, some people around gave us funny looks.

It gets crowded in there even for two people, especially if one of the two is König. I press my body against his and squeal as he turns on the shower and we get doused with an icecold spray.

He just laughs, not fazed by it at all – duh, but I am someone who german-speaking would call a 'Warmduscher' (someone who likes to shower warm, which is meant as an insult).

His mouth finding mine shuts me up and wandering hands get rid of the dirt and grime on our bodies. I'm still washing away soapy suds while König's caresses drop lower and lower until his fingertips stroke over my pussy, finding my clit. I shoot him a look like "Seriously?! Right here and now?", but the corners of my mouth curl up. The knowing expression on his face doesn't waiver while he draws circles on the sensitive spot, getting me wet and needy for his fingers to slip inside me.

I hold onto him, my hands digging into his shoulders, as he pulls up one of my legs and finger-fucks me. The cold water is forgotten by now.

The palm of his hand pressing against the soft mound, stroking over the clit with every push inside me. His fingertips reaching that certain spot, brushing over it repeatedly, which has me gasping for air in no time. “Ja, fuck, come for me.”, he whispers against my lips. My thighs start to tremble, and moans escape my throat.

“You need to shut up, Liebes, or the people around us will know.”, he grunts, letting go of my leg and clasping the hand over my mouth to muffle my sounds. The realization that there’s other people in the cabins beside us, that the stalls aren’t anywhere near a soundproof barrier, that someone will probably hear the lewd sounds, the realization sends a zap of tingly arousal down my spine. His fingers move faster, hitting me deep inside, and I come around them screaming into his palm.

When my orgasm fades, I snuggle into him, and he holds me up pressing soft kisses to the top of my head and my face. He takes the camping bath towel he brought (you know, the ones that are microfiber and dry really fast? Of course, he has stuff like that) and starts to wrap me in it.

“Wait, what about you?”, I ask, still panting a bit, aware of his hard dick pressing against my belly.

“You’re already shivering wia a Lampe Schwoaf (like a lamb’s tail), we need to get you into the warmth again.”, he says, rubbing me down with the towel, the strokes of his big hands and the fabric tickling me a bit, which is making me giggle.

He leans down a bit, getting to my legs as well, still drying me off, and his eyes find mine, arousal and need glinting in them, a smirky grin forming on his face. “And don’t worry, I’m gonna get my fill of you later.”

In between bands, we’re sitting on the lawn, a little bit away from the stages. The sky is tinted in a rosy-orange blush, blending into the dark of the night that’s about to come. Even when I’m sitting on his thigh, I almost have to tilt my head back to look at him. He sees my little stare and smiles. “What?”, he asks.

I don’t break eye contact as I shake my head. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”, he asks, seeming a little loopy.

I shrug, the smile on my face only getting wider. “I’m just happy to be here.” My hand reaches up to boop his nose, and the look on his face when he goes cross-eyed makes me laugh. “With you.”, I add, still giggling, feeling silly and honestly – a little lovey-dovey.

His smile matches mine as he grabs my face with his hand and plants a big kiss on my lips. “Me too, du Scherzkeks.”, he mumbles against my lips. (literally 'joking cookie', meaning jokester)

Straightening back up again, he eyes the joint in my other hand. “You still smoking that?”, he asks.

I shake my head and hand him the roach. He takes it and puffs the last bit of weed, inhaling deeply, holding in the breath. Before he can exhale, I grab his face with both my hands, pressing my lips to his. He chuckles, deepening the kiss, letting out the smoke as his tongue brushes against mine, and I taste him and the grassy fume.

We’re still sitting in the same spot an hour later, giggling with each other, sharing the biggest portion of fries we could find, while we listen to the music blasting from the stage speakers.

When we're back at the van, I fall into the mattress, bury my head into the pillow and groan as my body relaxes into the softness. My god, I will never be able to sleep on anything less comfortable when at a festival.

König's chuckle behind me makes me aware before his hands grasp my hips and pull them upwards. He pushes my pants down and his mouth into my pussy. I gasp into the sheets gripping them, squirming against his tongue, when he sloppily licks me, lapping at my wetness, dipping into my ass as well, until I’m making a total mess on his face.

He gets greedier, pulling out his dick and fucking me from behind, his fingers digging into my hips. The pace he’s going at makes the whole car shake, and somebody passing by could notice, but I'm counting on the darkness to conceal us, to hide what we're doing in the back of the van, especially when he flips us, and I’m on top now.

He's splayed out on the mattress looking up at me, satisfied smirk and hooded lids, as he grabs my wrists, securing them behind my back, and tells me to ride him. I whine and moan a little while I start moving up and down his length because the muscles in my legs are already aching from all the dancing, jumping and moshing, but his dirty ramblings spur me on: "Fuck, you feel so good, just like that." and "Harder, ride me harder." and “Ah, scheiße, i- that’s it, good fucking girl.”

He lifts up my shirt with the other hand and brings the fabric up to my mouth, gesturing me to bite into it. He pulls down the bikini top I’m still wearing underneath, freeing my boobs.

"Hm, such a little slut, getting fucked in the back of a van.", he murmurs, his eyes glued to my bouncing titties, while he fucks up into me, hitting spots deep inside me that pull obscene sounds from my throat. The little bit of fabric between my teeth can't damp them down. I try to hold onto the last bit of sanity, but then he pinches my nipple, hard, the sensations flowing over me, and I come on his dick, straining against his hold on me, shuddering while the orgasm wrecks through me.

My thighs are pressing together and König’s hands are the only thing that’s holding me up. While I’m still coming down, he pulls me against him. I sigh snuggling against his chest when he rolls us over.

“Oh no, Liebes, we’re not done yet.”, he chuckles, pushing into me again, his lips finding the sensitive spots on my neck.

A little ray of sunshine falls on my face through the window of the van, the early morning light making me open my eyes. I try to move to escape the brightness, but I can’t move my body. I turn my head and open my eyes, seeing König’s arm and legs draped over me, the big hand splayed out over my belly. Well, that explains it. The big guy is still sleeping, the soft sounds of his breathing filling the space around us. He’s facing me, a relaxed expression on his face, his brows that always seem to be furrowed turned up a little bit. I don’t think I have seen him this peaceful yet.

My lips curl up into a smile and I reach out, cupping his cheek, softly stroking over his jaw, because I can’t help myself. Normally he shaves pretty often, a habit he picked up at the military, but somehow, he’s still always wearing a 5 o’clock shadow. Right now, the beard has developed into more of a longer stubble, a few grey hairs in between. And it looks good on him.

Suddenly he’s stirring in his sleep, his lids fluttering as he groans, the big hand moving up to his face to rub the eyes. A little huff escapes my nose and I greet him with a “Good morning, sleepy head”. He groans again because he can be a little ‘Morgenmuffel’ (a little grumpy in the mornings), but opens his eyes to look at me.

“Why are you so cheery this morning, hm?”, he asks me, still blinking the sleep away while a sly smirk is forming on his face. “Oh yeah, that’s right because I fucked you seven ways to Sunday on this mattress.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the little grin on my face. “Yeah, yeah… If I can’t walk to the stages today, it’s your fault, old man.”, I taunt him.

His eyes light up with playful threat and he grabs me, rolling onto me. I yelp and giggle as his full body weight presses me into the mattress. “Keep running that mouth, Fräulein, and I’m gonna make sure of that.”, he says, his words a dirty promise.

a/n: this should have been a quick little fun drabble, but I got carried away - ah well, it happens <3

#metalhead!könig #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

333 notes · View notes

haywire-hetfield · 5 months

Text

Metallica members getting you high for the first time (gn!reader, can be read as platonic or romantic)

Cliff

Cliff is probably the most casual out of all of them. He doesn't make it a big deal or anything. He's gotten other people high for the first time before, so it's not new to him.

You two are just hanging out the first time you try it. He's smoking on the couch and you mention you've never smoked before.

Of course, he asks if you'd like to. He lets you finish the rest of his joint, telling you that you don't need more than that the first time.

He only mildly laughs at you when you end up in a coughing fit, assuring you everyone does that their first time.

He's the most equipped, making sure you have plenty of drinks and snacks.

You two spend the rest of the night just talking on the couch, some soft music playing in the background.

Kirk

Kirk would be the most supportive during. He makes sure you actually want to try it and aren't just doing it because you feel like you need to.

He'd have a space specifically for getting high and take you there. It's decked out with comfy pillows, blankets, etc.

He stays stocked with snacks and drinks as well as relaxing records he likes to put on while he's high.

He also has the most options for what you can try. He suggests trying a thc gummy or a thc pen first.

He intentionally gets less high than he normally would, wanting to make sure he's alert if you need anything.

Probably has some fun facts about weed (and definitely has weed jokes.)

Stays with you the entire time until you finally go asleep, making sure you have everything you need and making sure you're still okay.

Dave

He's actually the one who suggests you try getting high. He's drunk when he pitches the idea, but when you bring it up again the next day, he's still down.

He doesn't smoke often because he doesn't like the way it makes him feel, preferring to get drunk instead.

He has tried edibles a few times, but he tends to stay away from them. They make him feel weird and besides, he likes how smoking makes his voice sound anyway.

He used to have a pipe, but he decided it was too much of a risk. Anything that could be broken ended up getting smashed at some point, so he sticks to blunts.

He'd have a wide variety of flavored blunt wraps, despite not smoking very often. He even lets you pick whichever one you want to try.

He isn't the outwardly supportive like the others are, not really reassuring or checking in, but he hangs out with you the entire time and he's a comforting presence.

James

He'd be the most nervous about getting you high for the first time. He stresses about what's going to happen if you freak out or get sick or something.

Eventually, he agrees to do it. (Mainly because he doesn't trust all of the others with getting you high for the first time, mostly Lars.)

He prefers edibles over smoking because he thinks it fucks up his voice too much and it dries his throat out.

He's got a collection of various snacks for you two to try and he starts you out with a comically small amount.

He's a bit reluctant to keep giving you more, but he gets more relaxed as time goes on and he realizes nothing bad is happening.

Once you two are both high, it's a lot easier. He's completely relaxed and you're both laughing together.

You two spend the entire night watching movies on the couch and talking, although you're not sure how coherent you actually are during.

James is more willing to get high with you again after the first time, finding he actually had a really good time with you.

Jason

Easily the most excited about the idea of getting you high. He's never been with someone the first time they've gotten high before, so it's interesting to him.

He watches you the entire time you're smoking, trying to give you pointers, but he's not the greatest at explaining it.

He is the most likely to either have a broken bong (the bowl gets stuck now, so he has to pull it for you) or a DIY bong made out of something not intended to be smoked out of.

Asks you a ton of questions during, mostly about how you feel. It's been a while since he got high for the first time, so he's curious.

Definitely the cuddliest member when high, wanting to stay snuggled up to you the entire time.

He tells you horror stories about times he's been high or how others have been because he thinks it'll be funny. (It is not.)

Lars

He's definitely the one who actually encourages you to try it the most. He thinks it'll be fun to watch you at the very least.

He goes for joints for your first time and he ends up having to get it from one of the others. (He's not great at rolling joints.)

He spends most of the night focused on getting you high instead of smoking himself.

Thinks it's funny to mess with you while you're high, specifically putting on whatever movie or TV show he thinks will fuck with you the most.

He's especially giggly and you can't tell if it's because he's high or because you are.

He would definitely brag about being the person who got you high for the first time.

Ron

He's the one least excited to teach someone how to get high. He already has to put up with the rest of the band when they're high, he gets tired.

But when you promise you won't be an asshole, he gives in.

He's the only one who actually knows how to roll joints, but he ends up teaching you how to use a bong.

He's a pretty good teacher, despite being a reluctant one. He isn't as interested in watching you get high, but he enjoys your company nonetheless.

He prefers being outside when he gets high, so you two sit in his car with all the windows down and the radio on.

If it's at night, he absolutely points out different stars and constellations for you.

213 notes · View notes

slackerlifewhere · 16 days

Text

Cale does not know everything

Why did anyone think he did?

[Note: There will be SPOILERS about the first part of TCF so if you haven't finished the first part or you don't want spoilers, I suggest you don't continue. Thanks!]

When I first read the novel, the most common mistake new readers often make was they all thought that Cale is omniscient and because he knows everything, it's inevitable that he'll be OP. "Which is the same boring cliche KR novels and manhwa are nowadays." Yeah, I saw the comments. There were a lot.

I think, once again, it's because of how in most KR novels and manhwa, the main character usually knows the whole story of a novel they read or a game they played before they transmigrate to another world. They don't have all the details but it's more than what Kim Rok Soo knows.

Because that's the thing. The difference is that Kim Rok Soo doesn't know the whole story. In fact, he only read up until five volumes of "The Birth of a Hero" before he transmigrated in another world.

He, like us, doesn't know how the story ends.

I might be getting repetitive but the reason why I love TCF is because the author, Yoo Ryeo Han, doesn't share everything to us right off the bat.

They never info dump us with the whole story about how OG Cale actually made a deal with the God of Death, about Kim Rok Soo's past as an ability user, about Choi Jung Soo, and about the existence of the White Star. Instead, all these plot points are gradually revealed later in the story.

And I honestly prefer it like this. This way, we can only guess what will happen next. It's not a boring story but a mysterious one because there's something we won't expect.

The story starts with Kim Rok Soo opening his eyes in another world.

We are never completely told what Kim Rok Soo read before he transmigrated. The most he tells us is a summary and a few details here and there at the start of the novel.

We only find out more by experiencing it through Cale's point of view. We read his thoughts about the novel. And we follow him in his journey around the Eastern and Western continents.

But as mentioned at the beginning, he doesn't know how The Birth of a Hero ends. His knowledge stops at the end of volume five. Everything else depends on him.

But even before the war happens, there are already some hints that Cale doesn't actually have all the information he needs. He is not fully equipped with everything about the book. He, like us, is in the dark about certain factors that can affect his goals.

Indestructible Shield

When the shield was first mentioned, Cale questioned why no one took it.

'No wonder nobody ended up taking control of it. But then why would the author mention something that could be useful but was never actually taken by anybody?’

- Chapter 11: Picked It Up

It's odd because it's found in the territory where Choi Han appears in the beginning of the story. Yet from volume one to volume five, not a single soul knew of its existence.

It's the first ancient power he gets because he read the book and he's the only one who knows about it. He doesn't know why it's there, he doesn't know why no one took it, nor does he question it any further. His only goal was to get it.

It's only when the Glutton Priestess tells him about her past that he finally gets the bigger picture.

The fact that this tidbit was shrugged off by Cale, and probably some readers, as something unimportant only to find out later in the story about its huge connection to the original White Star is just insane. And it's the reason why the books he read aren't informative at all. Because why did it leave out this piece of information if they want him to use it to save their world?

He didn't even know a single thing about the current White Star at the start of the story and here is a random ancient power sitting prettily in the Henituse territory that actually has a connection to the same guy Cale Barrow wants to imitate. He was utterly clueless like the rest of us.

I'm not gonna lie, I was shaking my head by how dumbfounded I was when I first read the novel. I was questioning everything I read in the early chapters, thinking if there's something else that I didn't notice (there were a lot actually).

The fact that the author gives us only a little info about the tree where the shield was found and its connection to the other ancient powers only solidified my respect by how good the author is at hiding this plot until the big reveal.

The Wolf Tribe

‘The novel didn’t say which of the divine items they brought.’

If Cale knew what the divine item was, he would be able to get one step closer to the identity of the secret organization. Unfortunately, the novel only described how the Wolf Tribe became weak because of the divine item. He had no way to determine the identity of the secret organization.

- Chapter 32: You

When Cale sends Choi Han to find Rosalyn and Lock, Choi Han returns with Lock who was about to transform into his berserk mode.

Later, Choi Han explains what happened and Cale realizes that a lot of things changed compared to what happened in the book. For one, Lock did not hide and fought back against Arm. Another is instead of assassins, the ones that appeared are official members.

For some, including me, this can be excused because of Cale's actions. He's a new variable to the story and thus, he ends up changing a lot of scenarios that happened in the story.

But, thinking about it, this is the only thing that is completely different from what happened in the books. Everything else is the same aside from when Cale is actively doing something like becoming a guardian to three kids or getting the ancient powers that originally belongs to someone else. Unless Cale acts, nothing actually changes.

There's the bombing at the plaza that also changed but that can still be excused as Cale ruining Arm's movements early on and them revising their plans.

Lock however, is not influenced by Cale. He could've stayed hidden just like in the book but in this case, he didn't. Arm could've sent assassins but they didn't. There is no reason for them to change from assassins to official members. Plus, instead of killing all of them, the wolf children survived.

This is not because of Cale.

So...does that mean that the book he read is not completely reliable?

Pretty much, yeah. Which already answers the question if he knows everything like a cliche main character does. No, he doesn't know everything. And the books he read can be taken as a guidebook but an incomplete one with a few mistakes here and there.

Let me remind you that this happened before the war started and there's already something Cale doesn't know or expect.

[Side note: I only realized this whole bit about the Wolf Tribe while reading a freaking reaction fic. If I had not read that fic, I wouldn't even realize how weird this one is. Am I dumb? Don't answer that.]

White Star

Another reason why Cale is not omniscient even though he looks and acts like it, is because he didn't find out about the White Star until the war against Arm and the Indomitable Alliance.

This man is like a god to his followers and allies and not a single person in Cale's group and even outside of it knows about him. Not even Ron, who has his whole family annihilated and later loses his arm in the process, knows about him.

Again, the five volumes of The Birth of a Hero never mentions this elusive White Star. The only reason he knows about this guy is through interrogation and torture. So when he finally appears in the Mogoru Empire, all Cale felt was anger and fear.

Because this unexpected factor is dangerous.

Cale knows they're completely unprepared to face this new player in the game. Eruhaben, an ancient dragon, was getting his ass kicked by this man who suddenly appeared out of nowhere and the dragon even told them to run. What everyone considers a very strong existence in this world is telling them that there's no hope in defeating him.

And the most shocking out of all of this is that Cale never expected how the White Star knows that Cale and Choi Han have their "time warped for them". He knows something about Cale just by looking at him.

So the books by this point are basically useless and he has to rely on himself and others to plan ahead of time. He works extremely hard for it.

He has to dig information using his Record to find out about White Star. He has to talk to the World Tree to get the weapon to use against the White Star. He has to talk to Sheritt to know more about the White Star and his curse. And he has to find out from OG Cale himself on how to finally kill the White Star.

It took the whole book to finally defeat him.

And none of these are mentioned in the books he read.

So Cale, in conclusion, does not know everything like what some readers once complained about. He has some pieces of the puzzle but it's like if he needs a hundred pieces to complete the puzzle and he only has ten, then he's never gonna complete it.

He knew about the first five volumes and the rest were just him and his allies' hard work. It's pretty much why he's so stressed in the whole book, zooming around the two continents just to look for the White Star's weakness while also juggling different problems like more wars or the God of Despair or finding the earth attribute the White Star needs.

So yeah. Don't judge a book by the first few chapters and expect to know everything.

end notes:

Alberu better give him his slacker life when this story ends.

Nelan Barrow and the God of Death really made him work for it.

I'm not gonna lie, I want someone (Cale) to kidnap Choi Jung Gun and interrogate him about why the heck he didn't explain the important bits in his "guidebook" and why the whole thing about the wolf tribe became different from what was written. He could've at least mentioned what the secret organization's name is but he left it to Cale instead. It's just the name, CJG. Why are you hiding it? Is Choi Han in the books really that slow or what? If you want someone to save your world, at least send more information like the name of the secret organization. You talked about the Indestructible Shield's location but can't spell Arm? Shame on you, CJG.

If it wasn't KRS that was transmigrated and it's just a random normal person, that person would've died even before meeting the White Star.

Or maybe Nelan Barrow just wants to be an author like Yoo Ryeo Han and be all mysterious about it.

#tcf #tcf cale #tcf manhwa #tcf novel #cale henituse #lcf cale #tcf cale henituse #lcf #lcf manhwa #lout of the count’s family #tcf choi han #choi han #lcf choi han #tcf white star #tcf lock

115 notes · View notes

annabethchase06 · 19 days

Text

Honestly, why do people think Percy would not like college?

Most of us assume he's going there just for Annabeth. There's a difference between going FOR Annabeth and going WITH Annabeth.

Just because Percy didn't do well at schools does not mean he can't get through New Rome University. Remember, he struggled because the New York schools weren't equipped to deal his conditions.

He didn't get good grades because he had trouble reading(Dyslexia). We know that he can read Ancient Greek without much difficulty, and the same is for Latin.

New Rome University is equipped perfectly for demigods – which means that Percy would get along pretty fine there. Just because someone isn't getting good grades doesn't mean they're not smart, maybe they just aren't getting the kind of conditions they are comfortable in.

People were surprised when Annabeth mentioned that Percy's getting good grades. Not all people who get good grades are nerds – maybe all Percy needed were teachers who could get him, and he found them at New Rome University.

Just because somebody is not a nerd or a bookworm doesn't mean they're not smart.

#Percy Jackson #Annabeth chase #new rome university #Percy's smart people just don't see it #like he wouldn't have gotten along so far if he hadn't been smart #it's nothing surprising #he just needed a topic of his interest and good teachers #percy Jackson get's good grades #you can bet sally was surprised but knew her boy had so much talent #she would've been over the moon #and paul would have definitely bragged at Goode that Percy was getting amazing grades #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #heroes of olympus #hoo #new rome #camp jupiter #toa #trials of apollo

60 notes · View notes

neuroprincess · 2 months

Text

LuLu Goes to Daycare - Melissa Schemmenti/Female Reader

Melissa Schemmenti/Female Reader

Summary: Melissa doesn't want to do it, Y/N denies being worried and both moms don't know how to deal with their baby's first day at daycare.

Classification: Domestic fluff

Warnings: None

Word count: +3000

Note: I know that the post with Ava won the poll, but I've been in hospital twice this week, had injections in hips and spent days unconscious due to medication, after all that I just wanted to write a bit of family comfort. The next post will be about Ava, as soon as I get better ^^

Unrevised

With a hand to her face to protect against the sun, Melissa lets out a long sigh and looks at the colorful entrance. Parents carrying their little ones pass her by, most of them with big smiles and excited about the start of another school year. She herself is excited, misses her children and work routine, but feeling the opposite at the mere thought of leaving Luca at daycare. The baby's babbling brings her out of trance, his little feet tapping against the seat cushion in agitation, caught up in everything that's happening around him.

"Ready for this, darling?" Y/N asks her wife, working hard at getting the little boy out of the car seat.

She nods, not a sincere answer, there's an unpleasant feeling in the pit of the stomach, the same as when doing something difficult, a challenge or the one that haunts everyone when doing something for the first time. Despite all the insecurities and even a little fear, she wants to pass on some kind of confidence to her little family in this big step.

"LuLu looks so handsome." the younger whispers, straightening his clothes once she has managed to get him out of the equipment, a yellow dungaree and cotton T-shirt have been chosen, shoes have long since been thrown in the air "I think he's a bit hot."

"Fever?" they look at each other in alarm and soon they're both standing over their son checking his temperature with the back of their hand, then with the thermometer just in case "I don't know whether to laugh or cry, we've been working with children for years and now we look like two complete laymen."

"Aren't we looking for excuses?" the reluctance hits Y/N, she's never been separated from him for more than a few hours and now she'll have to spend the whole day without being by her chubby side. The couple stare for a few seconds, reflecting, in the end deciding to cover up how emotionally drained they really are by this "Nah." they say in unison.

"The gate will close soon, let's take our tesoro." the redhead leaves the car, turns around to open the door, stretches out the arms to take Luca on her lap, can't resist showering his rosy cheeks with kisses and getting the cutest giggles out of him, little teeth showing "Time passes so quickly, just yesterday he looked like a plucked chicken and today he's a little prince."

"Did you just compare our son to a plucked chicken?" incredulous, the girl closes the car door and holds back a laugh, stuck in the back of her throat, making her cough dryly.

"And I lied?"

Y/N rolls her eyes, kissing the boy on the forehead, admiring every tiny detail of him, from rust-colored hair to the freckles he seems to have inherited from the Schemmenti, simple but still present on his snub nose and chubby little arms. When he arrived, he was very small, large for a premature baby, gradually taking on his mother's features, personality and appearance. A little human about to begin a new stage.

The path from the entrance to the classroom door is tortuous, not even the photos of children having fun reassure them, the corridor is full of them, playing in the playground, using paints, dressed up, dancing, among other clearly fun activities.

"Excited, bambino?" the eldest asks, lifting him up so that they're face to face, hopefully expecting LuLu to deny it and give a reason to turn around, but he nods in the affirmative with a cheeky smile "Sure?" he nods again, jumping up and down with excitement "Amore mio, I don't think he understands and leaving him here could probably make our baby feel abandoned, cause trauma..."

"But almost all children go to daycare and are fine, LuLu is smart, loves socializing and learns quickly." Y/N says calmly, more to herself than anything else, fingers stroking the thick curls of the boy who is now oblivious to the conversation, concentrating on the movement around "And he's your copy, which means he'll do well. Don't you agree, darling?"

Melissa sighs and fights the impulse to snort at her wife, who knows how to pull all her strings and hit her in the right places. Knowing that she can't resist her charms, she decides to give in, only agreeing in a grumpy whisper. Stubbornness is a family heirloom. Pride too.

"Time to go, big boy." she announces to the baby, who giggles at the two of them, arms waving as if he understands everything that's being said "Okay, keep it up and maybe you'll give Mama Mel some courage." the redhead whispers last, taking the first steps into the nightmare.

Disgusted, she finds the designated room more than quickly, the pair of teachers at the door waiting for their fellow little angels to appear. Melissa shamelessly tries to see more of what's going on behind the doors, where many of the crawling babies are playing on the carpet. She can't hold back a smile realizing that although she isn't a paragon of stature herself, their son is by far one of the biggest babies in the daycare, not least because he already stands out with cute big cheeks and rust-colored hair that's starting to curl at the ends.

Y/N hands the baby bag over to one of the teachers and joins her family, now visibly fearful, all the insecurities she tried to keep to herself and ended up brushing under the carpet come to the surface in a matter of seconds. What if he doesn't adapt? Because he's an only child and relatively spoiled, he ends up fighting with one of his classmates over a toy? Or if they hurt him? If there are other children with their first teeth looking for something soft to bite and why not little Schemmenti's chubby arms?

"...please don't forget to put the yellow blanket over his face when he goes to lie down, Luca can only fall asleep with this one." the younger gives the last instructions from the short list of quirks that come in their son's handbook.

"Right..." the teacher murmurs in disbelief, having learned that she would have two parents who are professionals in the same field, she thought it would make the process much easier, only to discover that it was quite the opposite "Now, if you'll excuse me..." she nods and tries to escape, pretending that someone is calling her, only to be intercepted on the way by the other mother lion and her dozens of extremely specific questions.

After a few minutes and many kisses, the two moms leave the building with empty arms and hearts sunk with the terrible feeling of not being close to their little boy. For eight months carrying him and for another ten they kept him only to themselves, attached by the hips, having never spent more than a prolonged nap equivalent to a romantic dinner away. They stop for a few seconds in front of the car, ideas running through their heads and none of them believing that everything is going to be all right, anxiety hitting hard.

"You know..." they say in unison, thinking of excuses to get rid of each other.

"I need a new laptop charger and we passed a store a block away." Y/N starts, slurring a few words, and points in the opposite direction "You go ahead, I'll take a uber later."

"All right, Barb just texted me to give her a ride." Melissa smiles, as if destiny were helping her "See you in Abbott, take care, cara mia." and approaches, placing a chaste kiss on the lips of her wife, no idea that she has plans of her own.

Half a block away and the car parked on the other street, they both sneak into the daycare, taking advantage of the movement of some late families to sneak in. Melissa gained access to the garden next to the classroom by convincing a member of staff that she had lost her earring in the grass, while Y/N managed to get past everyone to the door without attracting attention.

When the corridor empties, she approaches the glass, eyes instinctively searching for her son and soon finds the boy crawling across the carpet with the others, a dozen toys scattered around them. It doesn't take long for LuLu to find something colorful and eye-catching to put in his mouth, something he's been doing frequently since the first teeth appeared, swallowing all the unknown microscopic germs that cause chills in Y/N, as in Melissa, jaws open in disbelief as no teacher stops the scene.

"No, no, no!" the youngest whispers, wishing that mental begging could intervene.

On the other side, the redhead is in the same state, her face pressed against the window to get a better view and equally shocked. They knew this moment would come and, no matter much planning and preparation, it's still hard to face your firstborn's first day. He's so curious, cheerful, full of life and can inspire anyone nearby, so spirited and brave that he doesn't even seem to mind being away from home and his moms' presence. This brings a genuine smile to Melissa's face, for her everything seems like a dream and she has the impression that she might wake up without everything she has achieved. After a collection of failed relationships, she has found the woman of her life, motherhood, which had been put aside for many years, has come naturally and a son she never imagined she would have before is now cradled in her arms every night, also giving her wet kisses and the most sincere affection in the world. After all the new world her little family has presented her with, the fruit of their love is growing incredibly fast and giving her new challenges. This is another one of them, to leave him for a few hours longer, to trust the precious life of their bambino in the hands of complete strangers.

"What?" her eyes widen as she turns towards the door and finds her wife's unmistakable face stuck in the glass, staring at the whole scene "Amore mio!" she whispers, waiting for the girl to turn around and finally realize that she is there.

Torturously long seconds pass before their gazes meet, the two of them not knowing exactly how to react, as if they had been caught in the act of committing a crime.

"What the hell are you doing there?" she mimes with lips, pointing in her direction.

"Looking after our son!" Y/N tries to defend herself, reading lips and miming too.

"Did they let you in?" she is outraged, because she had to make up a huge excuse just to get into the garden.

"Of course! I pretended to be a teacher..." she begins to explain and gestures pointing to herself, then to the corridor "And they let me stay here. It's dangerous..."

"I know! Anyone can get in."

They start a short conversation through the windows, even though they can't hear each other, they understand well after years of living together, it's easy to know what they're talking. So entertained, they barely notice that the teachers stare at them in surprise and just wait for them to finish their conversation before intervening, which takes a while. The couple begin to explain detail by detail how they got to where they are and then how LuLu can get sick in the very first week.

"Excuse me!" one of them says loudly, close to a shout, and draws both of their attention to herself, faces flushed with embarrassment "Headmistress's office, now!" the teacher points to the door and snorts, disbelieving what she has just witnessed.

Melissa can't help but roll her eyes and laugh at her wife's frightened expression as she heads towards the office, walking at a quick pace to avoid the woman who is walking behind her at a brisk and irritated pace. Back in her school days, when she used to get into so much trouble that at one point her parents didn't even care, she finds herself in front of a headmistress/principal with arms folded and not knowing what to do. It's a more than unusual situation in her years in the profession, there have been worried parents before, the kind who call repeatedly or send special porridge for fear that their babies won't eat properly, but they've never had one, in this case two at once, keeping an eye on what happens in the daycare and so blatantly.

"Mrs. and Mrs. Schemmenti, would you like to explain to us what you were doing?"

"Well..." the redhead mumbles, unsure exactly how to follow and for the first time stutters when explaining something "I... We, my wife and I... We're first-time moms and we really struggled to have our bambino, although we know you have incredible professionals... Well, I guess that's it, first-time mom panic..."

"And a bit overprotective." Y/N adds, swallowing the lump in her throat "Okay, very overprotective."

"Admitting it is always the first step." the headmistress says wryly and clasps hands together on the desk "But you know the rules here, you signed a contract..."

"We swear it's an isolated situation and will never happen again." the eldest intervenes, feeling guilty, she was the one who was the most negative and full of worries about Luca joining the daycare, if it was entirely her choice she would have kept her family at home and safe "We were just very nervous and worried about him adapting, tesoro can be a bit of a difficult baby to deal with..."

"Stubborn..."

"Clever..."

"And he doesn't know when to stop eating."

"That's true! Remember the time he ate half the parmigiana on my plate? I felt so proud..."

"Your face said everything, it was so beautiful to watch. He's inherited your good appetite, that's for sure."

The headmistress coughs falsely, bringing them back to the subject, letting a smile slip.

"It's hard when it's our turn, isn't it?" she asks rhetorically "We hope that we can have your vote of confidence to look after little Luca. I know it's a new phase of adaptation that can be really hard, both for him and for you, but we really need your cooperation."

"If it'll put your minds at ease, we can send a photo... or photos, we usually register all the activities and share them." the teacher suggests, softening a little "And you know that you can pick him up early, right?"

They nod, feeling even more embarrassed, at the same time good about the understanding they are receiving and the alternatives given.

"Thank you for your patience, we swear this won't happen again." the younger promises, smiling shyly "We'll follow the rules perfectly."

"I'll take your word for it. You're free to go, Mrs. Schemmenti!"

With tails between legs, the couple leave, without the courage to look each other in the eye after the scolding. Guilt gnaws at them too, not for sneaking off to watch LuLu, but for lying, something they never do and hate having to do. Melissa sighs as she approaches the car, bringing a hand up to her wife's, interlacing their fingers and carefully pushing her against the door, face to face.

"I'm feeling like a rebellious teenager." she jokes, tone low, playful smirk not reaching her eyes "How are you?"

"You know I was a good student." Y/N retorts, the fun of their relationship is the differences that only improve the dynamic "Darling, are you really okay?"

"Would it be wrong or annoying for me to say that I'm still worried?" the woman bites her lip and looks away, feeling incredibly vulnerable "Now our little boy is being looked after by someone other than us and I don't have a manual for that..."

"Hey, hey, it's okay, none of this is wrong or annoying, you're very attached and being away like this is a big step to take."

The woman smiles weakly and moves closer, letting herself be enveloped in warm comfortable arms, feeling the sweet perfume, soft hands caressing her back and the voice that calms her in the midst of a hurricane of chaos, so she feels confident and safe for the first time all day, maybe all week.

"Thank you for always understanding and loving me."

"It's nothing more than my duty as your wife, darling." Y/N jokes and kisses her forehead, moving down to place a quick kiss on the lips "You know, I was trying to think of positive sides and what do you think of this one? Three extra hours we have after work, just to..."

"But I want to pick him up the second we leave Abbott." the redhead says back and unlocks the door of the vehicle, opening it for the younger to get in.

"I don't think you understand..."

"Yes, I do, amore mio." and practically pushes her into the passenger seat, kissing the flushed cheeks and barely noticing the confused expression on her face "I wonder if there's a store nearby that sells micro cameras? We could put them in his bag."

Mel gets into the driver's seat and begins to ramble off crazy ideas, which seem more like surveillance strategies than mere maternal concerns. While she pours out these plans, Y/N just shakes her head negatively, holding back a laugh. It's not usual to see Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti, the tough and fearless one, shed her posture like this, but when it involves her family and, especially, her son, she turns into a ferocious, somewhat irrational and very emotional lioness. It's a side that rarely emerges and, when it does, is compared to a natural event - beautiful to watch and potentially dangerous.

"Am I thinking too much and overreacting again?" she stops rambling and asks, already knowing the answer.

"Just a little. Come on, once we get to work, I'll make you some tea to calm you down."

"Thank you, Principessa."

"And no running off during class to see LuLu."

"Hypocrite!"

taglist: @opheliauniverse @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @wastdstime @scarr0713 @geekyandgay98 @dvrkhcld @heidss @esposadejoyhuerta @xvyzxx @quailbagutte @imaginesmultifandoms @ctrlamira @milffilm @taurus-baby-34 @prentiss-theorem @josephinevr @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @grandtacoranchnickel @multifandomlesbianic @serendipitouswanderer @louderfortheback @h-doodles @Hotdoggitydammit @peggy082023 @le0vo1dz @lilfartbox1 @imgayforwoman69 @janeyseymour @hwppnes @storiesofsvu @zacs-obsessed @evilaam @evattude @tmlwattpad19

Join my taglist here ^^

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #female reader #abbott elementary x reader #schemmenti family #fluff

125 notes · View notes

throwaway-yandere · 11 months

Text

What HaPpEneD aT 10:10? (Yandere!"Gepard Landau"/Reader)

Scriptwriter's Note: I implore you to remember what happened at 10:10. And once you do, come talk to three of my associates. For now, let her help you recall what's going on in the present time. You can remember the time, but we need you to remember the murder weapon, who killed who, and the motive.

Synopsis: Trapped in Serval Landau’s basement for so long, you made a deal with the Sampo to escape confinement. As it turns out, your timing is never impeccable. Aka: a Belobog "murder" mystery. (A/n: ansy here, have fun trying to guess what happened! But please. PLEASE do not read this if you're sensitive to the topics below ⬇)

CW: Yandere and horror themes, "most unreliable narrator AND reader ever" - sam, violence, amputation, mentions of domestic (physical) abuse. His smile is stiff as a board. There’s a portal at the end of the story, your choices matter (there are 2 possible endings). Welcome to the Back Alley.

A murder was announced to occur on Saturday, October 2, at the Golden Theater’s back alley, around 10:10 AM.

It was an unidentified note. Short and crudely pasted cutouts from old magazines were its contents. Many believe the Astral Express put it together as a twisted joke. It’s no coincidence that the clocks' little hands near the theater were also forever stuck at 10:10. No one took it seriously. Additionally, a nearby bookshop used this opportunity to "hype" its mystery books by joining the bandwagon. While the Silvermane Guards officially took the "threat" as if it didn't exist, others transformed it into an event by creating crime scene props with March 7th and Stelle serving as the main judges.

Who'd even investigate such a note when the Golden Theater doesn’t have a back alley?

By 5:00 AM, that silly note was not at the forefront of the Silvermane Guards' minds.

It was you.

Sampo shakily exhaled a quick "heya, friend," as his legs continued to speed past the Silvermane Guards, who were all very much ready to fire. The merchanr was forced to inhale sharply and slightly elevate his voice as he worriedly fixed his attention on his 'package.'

"Y-You're good, aren't you?"

Inside the shopping cart (who knows where he got that) he had been pushing was a wanted person. A bit feverish, you nodded without much commitment. Even the slightest movements relieved the dubious merchant as he picked up the pace, avoiding the stray "warning" shots that were fired near.

Today, you didn't awaken in the house where you were held captive. There were no mechanical noises or loud drilling. However, your morning did begin with your flesh awkwardly molding against the metal grid patterns of the shopping cart. There was no complaining when you realized it was your old friend Sampo who had carried and set you down. You didn't even consider asking this man where he was taking you.

Days earlier, he had paid you a covert visit and explained his strategy. So you concluded that he was the one who made the "false" murder announcement public. He also implied that little Hook made the note. Your gut tells you that even while it makes sense to assume that she is the author of that absurd announcement, it doesn't seem to be the truth. But at that point, your fears of being tubed with immoral equipment vanished and you felt gratitude rather than alarm. Not that you'd ever figure out that I made it, anyways.

"S-Sampo…" You groaned, not moving from your position as your friend fished out his homemade bombs from his pocket. "W-Where are you taking me…?"

Anywhere is better than her basement.

"To Nat, of course!" You needn't tilt your head to know that he was smiling wide. "Is there any other doctor more reliable than Miss Natasha?"

You'd insensitively joke about Vache Harrower, but your strength betrays you. Not like he'd give you a chance to drop some smart-alecks when he timed his bombs right.

Just a few short seconds after, your best friend rolled his smoke bombs on the floor and made a larger dash. You heard a tremendous boom from the back, and a silent malicious voice in your skull hoped for injuries.

They worked with her.

Jolting you up, Sampo made one swift left turn and another to the right, making sure that the last remaining guards that trailed you both were lost in the haze. He didn't stop running, but you can tell he's getting tired. Sampo is a merchant, not the sister of the ex-Captain of the Silvermane Guards.

Your nose scrunched.

Serval Landau… that paranoid woman and lousier liar…

The oldest Landau used to be your best friend along with Pela. She had treated you as though you were Gepard's twin at times, much to your discomfort. Even her parents referred to you as their kin.

Since you had no one to care for you as a child, the Landaus happily raised you. Had you not rejected their offers for adoption, your life certainly wouldn't be where it is now.

Back "home", Serval would make suggestions that you were more of a Landau than she’d ever be. In turn, you’d cock your head and look unamused. Then act more like one, you’d reply. Yet these forceful encouragements do not reach her.

Even when you beg her to let you out of the house, she won’t let you.

We’ve been over this before, she’d reply. I can’t let you out on your own. You’re missing your right leg, what if that man finds you?

You’ve never understood that logic. Who was she referring to, your old boss?

Her brother died a year ago.

You once liked him. You'd even go out of your way to say he was worthy of anyone's trust.

Was. That was before you knew that deep in the recesses of his mind that loyalty was the beginning and end of Captain Gepard Landau's character. Uniting men under his leadership, he sought only the best for his beloved Belobog.

Your mind drives memories of Gepard away and you can no longer remember what transpired to cause this. After all, you undoubtedly considered Serval and Lynx to be sisters, but you never thought of him as a brother. You can't exactly pinpoint why you treated him like that since the very beginning.

Based on your shattered memories, you were stripped away of your position as his aide. Serval claimed it was because you didn't harbor traits of self-preservation. She made a show of how unreliable you were on the field, that you were hysterical and a "liability." Their relentless critique went on for half an hour until the higher-ups had given in to her demands.

Worse, they permitted her to surveil your movements 24/7. Using your amputated leg as an excuse, she effectively put you on house arrest– not your home, but hers. She's not an effective caretaker either, despite her attempts. Serval's use of transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation is far more brutal than what a normal practitioner would do, but no one can hear your complaints except for Molly. Her tests are never comfortable. And you loathe this.

She acted like your loss of a leg turned you into damaged goods that only the siblings can see value in. That her giving you a prosthetic was a sign of love rather than a shackle.

They said you were “hysterical”, and that you should be forgiven for whatever sin you’ve committed.

Insulting.

Insulting. Insulting. Insulting.

"H-How closer are we to the underground?" You gripped the cart, your heart racing at the speed.

Sampo coughed after accidentally inhaling his smoke.

“S-Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t change the direction of the cart–”

“What?!”

“The cart won’t turn!!!” Sampo screamed.

With each passing second, the gap between the cart and the theater narrowed. Your heart raced as this was your first experience of real danger after being sheltered for a year or so. Even though you were aware that Sampo had no control over the impending crash, you still glanced at him expectantly.

He smiled, drop-dead nervous and boyishly sheepish.

"Give me two minutes!!!"

"Give me two minutes, Captain!!! We still need a few more."

You beamed, holding your axe to chop wood for your comrades in the Outlying Snow Plains.

At first, you weren't trusted with heavy weapons. Luckily, being "weak" is a curable ailment for everyone. And the cure is called hard work and extreme effort. That, and an axe.

You were the very definition of a model soldier and he found himself incredibly lucky to finally see you join the Silvermane Guards. You had an excellent posture; you were a sharpshooter and a wonderful axeman– even your breathing looks rehearsed.

And for a damn good reason.

When the Height's economy sneezes, the underground catches a cold.

Unfortunately, that means children as young as you were had to bear the flames.

The Landau parents had taken a shine to you after taking you as a servant from the orphanage. Your captain's father adored you, even though his never-smiling voice had not once indicated his affection. Captain Gepard bears resemblances from his old man in appearance but not his military demeanor; you were the one to hold that torch.

It was through Mr. Landau you learned how much metrics and timings make a difference between an animal and a human being. You grew from someone who skitters away dynamically like a gas particle to a person grounded with instructions on how each step in a stride must be measured to perfection. Growing up with the Landaus was by no means a happy life, but it made you more keen on what constitutes "proper living."

To you, being hit by vases and chairs for failing to fold Mr. Landau's clothes in exactly the way he wants them to be was preferable to dying in the streets with your grandmother with nothing to fill your stomach other than the restaurant trash cans nearby. And you were certain you brought more pride and joy to Mr. and Mrs. Landau than you had to your parents who had abandoned you since birth.

People see Mr. Landau when they look at you and not Gepard.

But that's only because they have never seen the way you behave when it's only you and the Landau siblings are together.

“Working hard, I see,” Gerard said in a light joking manner.

You scratched your neck, embarrassed.

“Nah, I’m actually very lazy.”

“Don’t be so self-effacing,” Gepard smiled kindly. “I don’t miss anything. I’ve heard that you’ve made your rounds and even took on some of Pela’s duties while she’s on leave.”

“Eh, we both know I wouldn’t have done it without Pela begging me to do it for her Tales of– nevermind, Captain.”

Gepard had always viewed your abilities with the greatest reverence and approval. Serval was always quick to emphasize how her "favorite non-blood related sibling" is an "uninhibited performer" before everyone else, so Gepard thought this true in every aspect. You must think of this as writing a song to keep your mind sharp. You lose any sense of reservation once in “the zone”, and if Serval fell for the way your brows furrowed when penning down tunes and lyrics, Gepard faltered when he saw the glint in your eye as you pieced all the information needed to catch Sampo Koski’s whereabouts after your promotion.

He had never told you this, but Gepard always felt weird sensations pooling in his chest whenever he saw you hyper-focused on something.

Or someone.

“Do you think I can catch him, Geppie?”

Gepard ruffled your hair and your face brightened up.

"Never falter, (Y/n),” he said firmly. “For I wholeheartedly believe in your strengths. Catching Sampo Koski will be a walk in the park for someone like you."

To think that your first caught infamous criminal is your last true friend… Destiny surely toys with those who say “That’ll never happen.” It's always a fun phenomenon to write a script about.

“Walk in a park”? Try “crash in a theater”.

“SAMPO!!!”

You yelped, clawing his shirt and yanking his upper body like a wild animal. His heels screeched as the cart faced the direction of the Golden Theater.

And what nestled near the Golden Theater was its Back Alley, a place that exists on the border between reality and myth. Whispers among children weave tales that those who enter the depths are trapped in a journey of confronting their unresolved trauma and guilt. It is believed that the alley acts as another dimension where the lost must face their inner demons before emerging back into the real world, scarred forever by the distorted horrors they have confronted.

And for the first time in your life, you saw it.

You saw a fence that was never there before.

Your heart dropped.

“SAMPO!!!”

He closed his eyes, bracing for the impact alongside you.

Sampo Koski lived by a particular quote: "True happiness always entails the manifestation of the dignity of mankind,”

And only a few knew that it's only 1/3 of the full quote. The next part includes: “and true guilt is the catalyst for self-reflection and the pursuit of redemption–"

Flickering street lights and unmoving 10:10 clocks cast eerie shadows of dawn. It’s said that the people who traverse its trails encounter manifestations of their inner turmoil, a reflection of their deepest regrets. Some emerge transformed, carrying newfound clarity, while others head on a downward spiral.

He wondered which one you would be.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n).”

Sampo smirked…

And let go of the cart.

“But the Back Alley is waiting for you.”

His hands, calloused but clean, tenderly held yours. You felt ice even without a metal ring wrapped around his finger. At that thought, you blinked.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Yes, dear?"

"You don't have a ring on you," you said with an unreadable expression. "Will we ever have a chance at getting married?"

You thought it was funny; he didn't.

We.

What did you mean by “we”?

Him and you?

Or you and someone else?

Surely you and him, right?

But is that really an idea that he needs to know?

The Supreme Guardian was right.

Doubt breeds arrogance.

“W-Well–” Gepard’s breath hitched, awkwardly fumbling his cuffs. “I don’t know about that.”

You muttered. “So the future's uncertain.”

“Of course.”

“Hmm.”

He gulped, realizing that you were mad at his response.

But he can’t let any of this continue any longer.

“(Y/n), I have something I’d like to tell you…”

“Nghh….”

You heard the shopping cart roll towards a wall– must be the same one you crashed onto. As you caught a glimpse of your surroundings, you were astounded to see how foggy it was. The wall-mounted advertisement for a love-matching service is hardly visible. It was impossible to see past the surrounding streetlight, even with "un-smoke bombed" eyes.

Doesn’t look like you’re in the administrative district.

You cannot see a single familiar building from this fog.

No heaters in sight and your breath practically singed your throat. The fog prickled your skin, but for reasons unknown, you did not shudder as a feverish man would’ve. Strangely enough, you felt fine.

You tried squinting at the road again.

Your heart dropped.

... There was no road.

You can't tell if it's the snow and the fog– but there's no pavement towards the exit in sight. It's as if wherever you stood floated. It was a literal dead end. As you peaked into the cliff, you did not see the bottom.

There was nothing there.

Even if you tried jumping, you weren't sure if there would be anything to fall on.

Capable arms wrapped themselves around your form. They were far stronger than your eyelids, which would barely open. Semi-automatically, your hand reached for this person’s shoulder, attempting to reposition yourself from their hold. You can barely make out their face, but their hair was slightly darker. This stranger lacked the envy-inspiring golden allure that the Landaus have.

Not processing that information fast enough, you spoke.

“S-Sampo, wh-what happened–”

You went pale.

No.

You pushed this "man" aside and dropped to the ground, barely maintaining balance on your one remaining leg. The man has now grown to be a towering figure over you, his star-bright eyes peering at you, paranoid. The air felt heavy, laden with a palpable sense of the unknown. Only the sound of your lonesome "real" foot scurrying away broke the silence.

“A-Are you alright?! W-What’s wrong....? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The man sauntered closer. His light but lifeless eyes locked onto yours, piercing through your soul. He had dirty blonde hair and he wore a sweater similar to the one that you never got to give to your best friend's younger brother, but–

“G-Gepard…?!?!”

The man tilted his head.

You squinted, hoping to find solace in a detail you might’ve missed or so.

Finally, your shoulders slackened, exhaling a large white cloud.

“No… You’re… not.”

He sent you a fleeting look of pity before making an awkward joke.

“Do I look similar to a past lover?”

His smile is stiff as a board.

“No— my— my deceased… boss…” You spoke bitterly.

This person, who looked eerily similar to the dead Gepard Landau, stared with red-rimmed eyes. Did he cry earlier? With nothing else to focus on except for the thick fog, you remain frozen in place.

“This is…”

Terrifying, you wanted to say but that would be offensive.

“Impressive…” You gawked, slowly forgetting the vulnerable position you left yourself in. Sharply, you drew a breath. “You look like you could be a Landau.”

Your hand reached to touch his cheek, and the stranger leaned into your touch. Far too engrossed by this encounter, you did not care for his slightly hollow eyes and more than elated expression. It was the bigger picture that you saw.

It was the near-perfect image of the deceased Gepard Landau.

His skin was pinkish and his heart raced.

“Your hand is warm…” He commented softly, face red.

“Your face, your voice— it’s just your hair and your sense of fashion that’s different, and—”

“My name is Gerard,” his smile remains stiff as a board, but there's a touch of friendliness to it. “I don’t believe I appear anywhere near ghostlike.”

You’re inclined to believe that he’s lying.

No one can look THIS similar to Gepard.

And that name as well.

You don’t know what to think.

As you were about to retract your hand, he held it back in place, guiding it closer to his lips. He breathed in. His breath marked the fog. “Gerard” inched closer, stepping his foot near your prosthetic right leg. With little distance between you two, your temperature has progressively grown hotter. It’s uncomfortable watching you both like this. I should’ve closed my eyes.

“See?” He mumbled.

“Can you sense how warm I am?”

“So you’re not Gepard… Or a ghost, I guess.”

You laughed to yourself. You’re not sure about your statement, either.

But while this man may appear friendly, his eyes were a haunting reminder that some things can never truly be left behind.

“As I have stated before, my name is Gerard.”

Even his name sounds like his.

“I-I’m sorry, I was dazed,” You pinched your temple. Without his warmth, the cold bit your cheeks which made you turn around. “T-Thank you for carrying me out of that shopping cart, Gep– Gerard.”

You looked around again. Nothing to see but fog. Far from surprising.

“Gerard, where are we?”

The dirty blonde man laughed.

“The Theater’s Back Alley.”

“The Back Alley?” You scoffed quietly, contemplating on how Gepard insisted to you before that it never existed– and now his promiscuous doppelganger is arguing otherwise. “There aren’t any back alleys around the theater.”

This place doesn’t look like an alley.

It’s far too large for it to fit the description. This must be an abandoned town. Unbeknownst to both of you, way before your time, this place was called Chernobog.

“Yes there is,” Gerard hummed. “It’s where we are now.”

“Then can you carry– lead me back to the main district?” You decided to humor him. “I’m not supposed to be wherever this place is.”

“I wouldn’t allow it.”

“Why not?”

Gerard grinned. His radiant smile baffled you as his demeanor changed from slightly teasing to tender from just the crinkles of his eyes.

“Because I love you, of course. I can't just let you leave.”

You froze.

Why? Why does he speak as if it ever so slightly comes from the diaphragm as he did?

Why does his voice sound so much like Gepard’s?

You thought it was wrong.

Gepard would never say those words.

Not to you. Never.

As Gerard’s casual confession hung amidst the fog, a peculiar heaviness settled on your heart. It wasn't the words themselves that caused this unease but rather the haunting resemblance his voice had to Gepard’s. His voice was rich with authenticity, free of malice, and his confession was short but somehow sweet.

But you didn’t want to hear that from him.

You averted your gaze. A flood of memories had suddenly surfaced at that precise moment, including the hearty sound of Gepard's laughter. It appeared as though the dead had come back to play a cruel game. Unable to bear his comfortable “joke”, you recoiled and feigned deafness, face veiled behind an indifferent mask. Perhaps the Aeon of Preservation may have advocated for this. In a sense, perhaps denial meant safety. Silently, you begged for your thoughts to stop, for the resemblance to dissipate, and for the ache of grief to be buried again.

“Back on the topic at hand, if you wish to exit the Back Alley: I don’t wish to help you,” he smiled.

His smile is always stiff as a board.

“Why not stay here? Are you not a wanted person?”

You glared.

“How did you know that?”

“Murder, right?” Gerard drawled, his eyes softening in what you call disgusting pity. “Someone important. Someone that made you stuck here.”

“Stop making accusations,” you spat, offended by his left-field slander.

“I’m not,” Gerard said. “I know who you killed. How about you? Do you remember who it was?”

Silence.

“But that doesn’t matter now,” he announced firmly. “Why don’t you come with me? Let me shield you from the monsters.”

You froze.

“Mon… sters?”

“Yes, monsters.”

Unexpectedly, a far-off wail of sirens and static radio pierced the air, disorienting. There was nothing to be seen when you lifted your chin to strain your ears in search of the source. Gerard's urgent voice broke through your daze.

"Run."

With a swift and practiced motion, he swept you off your feet, cradling you in his arms back to the position you woke up in. He knew your current prosthetics were not meant for running. A prosthetic limb is like a new fingerprint and Serval would never make your new identity one similar to escapists. At the moment, you had a prosthetic leg for everyday use, and not blades for running.

As Gerard hurriedly carried you through the dense fog, you felt no sense of security as you had before. Something lurked just beyond your line of sight. In an act of spur-of-the-moment bravery, you stole a glance over Gerard's shoulder, and thus, you were paralyzed.

What emerged from the depths of the fog were grotesque “figures”.

Their bodies were mutilated, with their arms hanging loosely at their sides. They reared their heads, twisting and contorting. It was humanoid in stature, blanched and nearly armless. If it were not for some tissues, you were certain they wouldn’t have arms to begin with. Their flesh seemed boiled together like patchworks of human remains. They started to inch closer, their movements disjointed.

Fear coursed through your veins as you realized their intentions were set upon you and Gerard. But his voice cut through, his words not faltering.

"Hold on tight," he said steadily.

“Whatever you do, don’t let them get to you, (Y/n),” Gerard whispered.

“Please, do it for me.”

For the duration of “dawn”, Gerard carried you to safe locations. You have not met a single human person throughout the day. This was a concerning observation after knowing how large the “alley” was. He knew the area like the back of his hand and successfully guided you to hospitals (which, unfortunately, had more of those monsters from before) to patch some minor wounds from Sampo's “shopping cart trip” mishaps.

Before you could walk to the hospital bed, he grabbed your wrist in a tight hold.

“Shhh…” Gerard tugged your arm. “You don’t need to walk. Please, permit me to carry you.”

Despite your whispered protests, he rarely let you move around. Which made sense since your staggering did alert them of your location.

But you don’t like the way he touches you.

Those Gepard-like eyes lingered on you as if he were trying to memorize every inch of your skin. His actions were marked by an unwavering vigilance, always on guard for the slightest sign of danger even when you encouraged him to relax a bit. It was as if he was driven by an unspoken longing or unresolved past experiences. And you've only just met.

This time he made sure to turn off his radio. Suspiciously enough, "Gerard" carried a Silvermane Guard issued radio but it only seemed to make sounds whenever danger lurks by.

You tried not to think about that. Save for the dusty bed and wispy drapes, the posters strewn across the hospital walls caught your attention. The wall didn't have anything else notable other than those prints. They must be the same ones you saw on the streets, yellowed with age. The prints ranged from love hotlines, anger management tips, and a wanted poster.

Your poster.

Unlike the previous ones, this one was preserved thoughtfully, plastered right at the center amongst all the prints. Intriguingly, floral stickers were peppered around your images. Not the childish ones you'd buy for a cheap price, but more refined illustrations. You're not too versed in the language of flowers, but they did look like blue roses and marigolds. If only you could recall what Gepard said about what those flowers meant...

For now, you hazarded an astute guess as to why it was cleaner than the rest, staring unamused at Gerard. He sheepishly smiled, face flushed as he tried not to notice your glare. Gerard seemed proud of his handiwork.

It was nearly cute.

If it weren't for the fact you seriously don't know who he is.

“Gepard—”

“Gerard,” he corrected you in a commanding yet soft tone, ironically similar to your old Captain.

“You don’t have to patch my wounds.”

“Just let me,” he pressed on, wrapping your scrapped arm with gauze. “This was part of my combat lifesaver course.”

You shifted from the bed.

“You’re a soldier?”

…

He didn’t answer.

You tilted your head.

“Are you sure you’re not a Landau–”

“Affirmative.”

He could’ve twisted the gauze tight enough to make you wince in pain, but he delicately wrapped it and added immense pressure not to your wounds, but in his gaze.

“I am not your “Geppie” and I am not your old employer.”

With a voice that commands resolute clarity from you, you doubt he’s telling the truth.

You paused.

“How?”

“How what?” He muttered.

“How did you know that nickname?”

You gulped.

“How much do you know about me?”

You were on high alert the moment he called you by your name when those monsters chased earlier– you have never introduced yourself. Couple that with the fact that he was to accuse you of murder, you didn’t know what he thought of you.

This time, he didn’t smile.

“Enough to know that I love you.”

“You say that like it makes any sense!” You snapped.

“I know everything because you wanted me to love you, and I do love you too. I am not a shield for the people like him. I don't have the burden to protect anyone else, doesn’t that make me a better man for you now? There's no need to make sure the Silvermane Guards are always at the ready. I don't have to worry about pride- about being a Landau.”

He delicately reached out, guiding your hand to rest against his cheek. His softened features conveyed a love for your "warmth", but the pool in your stomach made this experience unbearable.

“My life is reserved for only you. That is my oath.”

You ripped your arm away from him with disgusted eyes.

“Just tell me the truth already!!!”

He looked down, frowning.

“You don’t need the truth...”

Gerard's eyes glistened with a bittersweet melancholy as he watched you, a faint smile tugging his lips. He had a look that says he knew all too well that you are unaware of the depths he was willing to go to protect you. The dirty blonde man reached out, his hand instinctively yearning to rest upon your shoulder, but he withdrew it quickly, his fingers curling inward.

“That’s why you’re here. In this foggy back alley.”

He scooted beside you. Even if he couldn’t bring himself to comfort you enough, you knew he spoke the truth when his voice cracked in a small whisper of: "I’m with you."

Gerard grabbed your hand again and softly kissed your fingertips.

No one could miss his sharp gaze. The man has deluded himself that you were his to protect at all costs. A nature that stemmed from a deep-seated desire to control something that he couldn't acceptably justify. A pure obsession that defied reason at its finest.

You know that look all too well.

But you can’t put a finger as to where you’ve seen it. What a shame.

You looked at your hands.

... Strange.

Since when were you wearing a golden ring?

Your eyes intuitively gazed at Gerard's hands.

All of the sudden, your throat dried.

You're both wearing wedding rings.

“You don’t have to be alone again,” he mumbled. “We can live here. You could plant and look after flowers with me– though I’ve never been good at it. It’d be a quiet life, just as you’ve always wanted.”

“If that’s what you’re offering then you’re no different than Serval,” you laughed to yourself.

His eyes darkened.

Before you could comment on it, he cut you off with another considerate smile.

“You must be hungry. There’s a cafeteria downstairs, I’ll procure some rye bread.”

“(Y/n), babe, where are you?”

You looked up. An alarmed woman’s voice called out.

“... Serval?”

No reply.

The voice seemed to be coming from the door.

“Serval, are you there?”

“(Y/n), i-it’s okay! C-Calm down, calm down,” the voice continued. “Things just happen. I’ll help you okay? Shhh, d-don’t cry, don’t cry, I'm here…”

“What are you talking about?”

“I won’t let it happen. They don’t even have to know you were here. P-Pass the mop now, shhh…”

It made a sound far too damaged to be called a soothing chuckle.

“What are you on about?–”

The broken voice began to sing, sounding as though she had been clinging onto a husk of someone who’s been too far gone.

“C-Calm your nerves, my p-precious friend,

For "tomorrow"'s problems will never end.

In this short song, I s-softly sing,

You're cherished, my dear, in e-everything.”

You reached for the bed railing and supported yourself upright. Prepping your leg for a short walk, you placed your foot down–

THUD.

The door swung open, making you jump slightly.

Gerard came back, his breath nearly stripped away as he sauntered over. His only saving grace was his stamina, but otherwise fear would've dragged him down. There was not a single piece of bread in his hand. I’m glad he came, you would’ve been out of the alley immediately otherwise. And that's not good for us.

The voice was gone.

The sounds from afar now ring more of an animal than a human.

"(Y-Y/n)," he called out. "We need to leave."

You tilted your head, about to question what was wrong but you were cut off by his abrupt scream.

"NOW!!!"

He took you by the waist, carrying you in a way there was regard for your amputation but fast enough to make you feel unease. You gasped as Gerard's hold on you tightened, sprinting out of the "safe location."

"W-What's going on–"

"They're close," he whispered. "They're coming. It knows we’re here."

With one free hand, he pushed down passing cabinets as he bolted. Nothing was on his mind other than to flee with you. You didn't dare look at what was behind. You didn't want to face the truth.

"Gerar–"

Despite your desire not to see these creatures, a lone monster stands at the end of the hall.

It loomed before you, a grotesque fusion of flesh intricately molded together like human flesh sewn tight to a Silvermane Guard uniform, its form twisted and contorted while multiple unnerving eyes peered from its misshapen visage. Although it may have eyes more than you have fingers, you have a sneaking suspicion that they are completely inoperative. Its skin bore an unsettling array of intricate carvings, etched like cryptic scars across its entire body.

Something about its appearance resonated with you.

It slugged closer, staring. As to “where”, you can't tell. Each inch of its body had slits for eyes enough to instill paranoia. At least one pair must've been staring at you. Yet, most of it was on him.

Gerard.

"Tch..." His eyebrows furrowed, troubled.

He ran towards the end of the hall and miraculously swerved to avoid its axe. His pace quickened.

"(Y/n), whatever you do, don't think about why these creatures exist. Even when I'm gone."

“What do you mean?”

“Just don’t. That’s an order.” He said, sounding more of a plea than a warning.

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly as you struggled to keep up with Gerard's swift pace.

As he ran, questions burned in your mind, desperate for answers. His words echoed in your head, but your curiosity had implicit demand for a shred of understanding. You couldn't help but glance back, catching a glimpse of the creature still in pursuit. It persisted in its relentless pursuit of you, unwavering in its resolve.

"F-Faster!" you gasped between labored breaths. “It’s closing in on us!”

Gerard's expression remained stoic, his eyes focused on the path ahead.

He ran towards a door and pushed it open with a kick. You both stumbled through the threshold, entering what appeared to be the cafeteria, but the sterile scent mingling with the food made that guess somewhat unconvincing.

Gerard quickly assessed the room, searching for any signs of danger. The sound of distant alarms and muffled screams echoed through the corridors.

“Just what the hell is that?!” The words escaped you unintentionally in a mortified whisper.

Gerard cupped your mouth.

You both forgot to close the door.

What a horrible mistake.

The unsettling monster began its search. It emanated shrill sounds that pierced through your ears, making you almost move to cover them. The cries reached a hauntingly high-pitched cry that echoed like metal against metal. The mournful wails never resembled wolfish growls but rather heartbroken cries. Its speech resembles the guttural syllables "I" and "U" in an auditory expression of grief.

It turned around, but it also had eyes on its back.

Cowering in terror, you huddled close to Gerard behind the counter of the desolate cafeteria, seeking refuge from the approaching monster.

As the creature drew nearer, its grotesque eyes fixated on you and Gerard, its elongated limbs reaching out with chilling anticipation. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you heard Gerard’s breath hitch as you both clung to the faint hope of survival.

But to your horror, as the monster approached head-on.

Its rotting flesh bypassed you, swerving past your trembling form, and seized Gerard instead.

“(Y/N)!!! RUN!!”

Gerard pointed at the nearby mop.

He wants you to leave him.

A gasp of terror escaped your lips as you watched in disbelief.

His blue eyes widened, mirroring your panic but worse, as the monster's grasp tightened around him. Gerard yelped, his voice trembling as his fear of death loomed. Its grip was not merciful.

It smacked Gerard against a desk.

Again.

And again.

Blood streamed in his scalp.

The monster took his arm.

And ripped it apart.

And soon.

Nothing.

Thud.

You went as silent as the corpse as you watched it extinguish his life in a quiet finality.

Tears streamed down your face, unable to look away. Maybe it's a trick of the mind, but you were starting to feel a pain from where your leg was removed. Your brain was still convinced that you still had it- and that it is in danger. You feel as if your ankle was angled downwards, hiding from the monster. Such sensations made your skin crawl, especially considering the circumstances. It was not the best time to experience phantom limb pain.

The monster briefly met your gaze as if to mock your survival. It limped away, leaving behind you with nothing but a corpse.

Hours felt like mere minutes before you were snapped out of your prolonged emptiness. Gerard remains on the floor, dead-eyed and bloody. Thankfully, your current PLP was manageable at best but the throbbing sensation distracted you for a while. Your mind was blocking out the blood on his face. It did not process how mutilated it had become, nor did it care to acknowledge his arm that lay on the checkered floor.

His cheeks looked warm, alive.

You fixed his hair.

“Gep– Gerard…”

…

You need to leave.

YOU NEED TO LEAVE.

Since that incident, you've been by yourself in the Back Alley, even though you sense that there may be other lost "people" like you nearby, you chose to act alone despite this.

There's no need for another Gerard.

You followed the walls every time you had the nerve to step outside, cursing Serval occasionally for failing to provide you with a prosthetic running leg. That, and her garbage methods she calls "physical therapy."

You have overstayed your welcome despite not knowing how long you have been in this dense fog. Oddly, you've never experienced hunger in your time here. You are unable to move around freely, and worse, you are unable to scream for help, unless you want the people who are still present in the dense fog to find you.

You don’t have time to grieve for a man you barely knew.

You sighted a police station. Much like every building in this surprisingly large “alley”, it had been abandoned. It looked like the one you worked for, down to the paint job and the door frame. Funnily enough, the door was open, and thus, it was temporarily yours.

What greeted you first upon entering was a creature similar to the monsters you’ve crawled away from– but it did not move.

The still creature lay on the floor, staring at its hand. Its bottom half was similar to a mermaid's. You did not see two legs. When you approached, there was no reaction. You can only presume it was dead. Or that it never had a life to begin with.

You heard radio static as soon as you tried approaching it. But you don't recall ever having a radio in your possession.

“You poor thing…” You found yourself uncharacteristically sympathizing with a monster. The fatigue was eminent in your voice. “What happened?”

You're so stupid. Don't you think that "corpse" looks familiar?

You looked at its other hand and saw it holding an axe.

You took it.

As you brandished the weapon, its Silvermane engravings became more apparent. This was a soldier’s model, one you used back when you were an intelligence officer. Perhaps it will come in handy later.

“I’ve never heard of this station before, then again, I doubt many knew there’s a back alley in the first place,” you scoffed. “But, hmm…”

You turned your head to face the monster once more. You don’t know why you feel oddly calm facing the monster this boldly. With the axe acting as your new makeshift cane, you pushed it down. Nothing happened.

You got back up and took a look around.

For a police station, there were tons of love-related posters hanging around with half of them viciously vandalized. Some of them made you laugh as you read them. The handwriting seemed to belong to someone, but you can't recall whose.

LOVE ISN’T REAL.

I DON’T NEED A MATCH. I JUST WANT ██████.

“Pathetic,” your emotional equivalent of a snort was a slight huff. “And you’re all supposed to be Silvermane Guards? Guess this place was deserted for a reason.”

You hate how you sounded exactly like Mr. Landau just now. Out of all the children in the Landau household, you had it the worst with Md. Landau. Hearing yourself mutter something he would say... you're not sure how you feel about that.

Scoffing, you walked past the corpse and onto the break room.

Missing just a few posters in your way.

IF I CAN’T HAVE ███,

THEN I’LL JUST REMOVE ███ LIMBS.

Hours passed. You haven’t found the exit.

You heard Serval’s voice again. She was apologizing to you. Then, silence.

Nothing happened on what you presumed to be the “next day.” You cried to yourself until you saw the same monster who killed Gerard. It was ready to give chase until suddenly, it stopped when you were incredibly focused on escaping.

You tried thinking about why it did what it did. But it left more questions than answers.

Tore down a couple of posters. They were starting to get to you.

You think there is no exit. You made a quick mention about how Gerard probably knew where it is to yourself, but the same monster must've heard you. You felt eyes watching you and it made it's appearance by narrow alleys. You bolted.

You found another human. But he was long dead. You wondered if he was the same person children loved to talk about. The anxious man who lingered at the gates of the Back Alley. If I remember correctly, Stelle encountered this man before. Wonder what she thought of him at the time.

You heard the radio static again when you approached him. You decided to ignore him for now.

You mopped the man's dried blood. Who knew the mop Gerard pointed at in his last moments had it's use.

He looked stiff as a board. He was reeking, but at least he had a smile on his face.

You obtained a key after cleaning up the puddle.

“Was there ever an exit?”

Nothing happened in this timeframe. But you think you have an idea as to why these creatures exist.

Specifically, why they exist because of you.

How long have you been here? Sorry, I wasn’t keeping track.

You also weren't sure how long you'd been searching the town. Quite frankly, I was getting bored of watching. You tried to play this off like a maze game, constantly following the walls to your right as though it would magically lead you to the exit. Did you know that Lady Luck is not particularly lenient when bestowing favors? Your life here is slowly becoming more stale and your constantly improving ability to strategize your routes to avoid monsters has been making your adventure more of a chore to follow.

It's admirable that you were so tenacious in clinging to life in such a dangerous environment with a single leg, but it was extremely frustrating that you couldn't see this alley for what it was.

As if to cure such boredom, you entered another abandoned building. Turns out, the key you pried off a dead man's corpse fits perfectly. It was a psychiatric clinic owned by one Dr. Kauffman, a licensed therapist who received teachings from Dr. Kang Tu via the Astral Express. I never cared about those people. They're just cashing in on the occult, the easily "hooked", and the disturbed. You harbor at least 2/3 of those qualities. Congrats.

The walls are more notably filled with the same set of posters you've seen scattered around time. This time, you weren't feral enough to tear the posters down. However, you didn't grasp the meaning behind them either. You refused to look deeper, even when you don't recall what would stare back at you.

Mindlessly, you staggered inside a room. There were no professionals inside as far as you could tell without any of the lights on, just a cold sofa. You walked slowly and sat down.

As soon as you comfortably secured a position to take a rest, you realized you weren't alone.

Star-bright eyes followed your movements as soon as you entered the room.

“Gepard?”

You blinked.

“Oh. Gerard, it’s you. I thought you were–” You paused as Gerard shook his head, eyebrows furrowed with a smile that repressed his frustration. “Sorry.”

“Anyway, I’m… confused. How are you alive?” You asked. “Your arm– it’s back. What’s going on?”

Desensitized, you no longer knew what to think.

You're being strangely calm, don't you think?

But one thing was for certain: this “man” is not supposed to be standing.

Gerard pursed his lips.

“Anyway?” He mimicked you bitterly.

“What do you mean “ANYWAY”?!?”

You flinched as he took steps forward.

“You didn’t even care about me, didn’t you?!? It’s Gepard this, Gepard that– Gepard is DEAD!!!”

Gerard screamed at your face, gripping your shoulders tightly.

“Why… Why is it always him first? When I am everything he couldn't be?”

Gerard chuckled lowly.

“I-I was so afraid. I was so afraid that I won’t be able to see you again– that I’d disappoint you– but no, it’s always Gepard first. Why can’t you be obsessed with me in the way you were so– so…”

He cried. Hot tears ran down his cheeks as his shoulders deflated. Gerard cast his gaze to the ground while his hands reached to wipe his sorrows off his face.

“I would die for you. Why can’t you do the same?”

You tilted your head.

“Strange, now that I think about it–” you said nonchalantly.

“Didn’t I watch you die?”

Silence.

You should comfort him.

“Gepard,” you started.

Wrong name.

“No, it’s Gepard.”

Wrong name.

“It’s not the wrong name. I know what I’m saying.”

Wrong name.

I continued to correct you.

“It’s not–” You took a shaky breath. “It’s not the wrong name, you fucking idiot.”

He remains still, quiet.

Almost frozen.

Stiff as a board.

You laughed.

“I get it now. Haha. I get it now.”

You look down, staring at the human corpse. Human corpse? No. That’s not a human. A human cannot die twice.

You get it now.

You’re in the Back Alley.

There are always eyes that watch the Back Alley.

You look above, particularly to no one, but you believed the scriptwriter must be listening.

“He’s listening, isn't He?”

Yes. He is.

It's time for us to talk.

The clock struck 10:10.

214 notes · View notes