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sukirichi · 3 years

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earned it [06]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. attempted murder and suicide, angst ig i feel nothing at this point because NAOYA 😭

notes. i’m rolling with the earned it jokes that reader is shippable with everyone so HAH enjoy this chapter because I didn’t enjoy the last LMAO (IM SO EXCITED FOR TOJI TO APPEAR!)

series masterlist

Your muscles throbbed, the pounding of your heart felt even through your skin. You’ve spent hours in the training room, taking punch by punch, landing blow by blow – yet no matter how hard you tried, you kept falling on your ass. At this point, your backside was beyond sore, skin drenched with sweat and clothes sticking uncomfortably to the surface. Meanwhile, your ‘savior’ barely felt the need to catch his breath, instead gazing down at you with disappointment written all over his face.

“Why do you expect so much from me?” you panted, fists clenched on the mat. “Didn’t you tell me you just needed me to get your money back and that’s it? I didn’t ask for you to do anything so stop telling me I’m indebted to you all the time.”

Naoya clicked his tongue, clearly disappointed by your lack of resolve. Above you, he swept up his cane and finally balanced himself. You previously thought he didn’t struggle because he looked so calm and composed, easily overpowering you even with his injury, but his lips were strained, jaw clenched tight that perhaps he was just good at concealing his pain. It made you shut up and watch his every move; his back faced you – probably to hide whatever fleeting moment of vulnerability he had.

“I won’t always be there to save your sorry life,” he said calmly, “You need to learn how to be strong on your own no matter how tough it gets. Now if you’ll keep complaining instead of finishing your training, I could happily lock you up and force you to do my dirty work for me.”

“Then why don’t you go ahead?!”

“I don’t want to,” Naoya responded without missing a beat. He easily closed the distance with a few staggered steps, his head tilted to the side as he surveyed you.

You wondered what went through his mind. Did he see a weak woman? A woman who must be so helpless, so useless that you stayed there, legs too tired and muscles aching too much you couldn’t move? There was no telling with Naoya, and his guarded gaze didn’t help either. Satoru had always been difficult to read at most, but with Naoya – it was practically impossible.

Even as he cupped your chin and twisted it sideways, his eyes narrowed over all your features like he saw something you didn’t, he was too guarded.

“I need you in taking down Gojo Satoru. In order to accomplish that, I have to use his weakness against him. You showing up won’t be enough. No, I want to hurt him…and what better way than to take what was once his, right? Dangle right in front of his eyes what he let go of, make him regret his actions?” his smile turned dark, and for the first time since you’ve met him, you got a glance of what his heart really looked like.

It wasn’t true that Naoya was heartless – no, he just had a dark, sinister heart that didn’t beat the same tune as others. He played his own music with the bones of his enemies, drinking their lifeline from a gold cup and drowning in them, his ominous laughter the perfect antithetical melody of what could’ve been angelic hums.

“Don’t you want that?”

His question made your heart skipped a beat. This whole time, you’ve been so hell bent on achieving something, but what you wanted to reach had never been clear. You were too driven by emotions, by the pain Satoru’s absence had caused, and now that the opportunity was presented before you, you faltered.

“I don’t know what I want.”

“Well, if you ask me what I want…” he tilts your chin up with his finger “It would be to see you strong enough that even you would be capable of taking me down. So be strong, keep fighting – I’ll be there with you every step of the way. You only have one job, and that is to live. I am not allowing you to give up at the slightest of minor inconveniences.”

“And if I get weak?” you questioned with an oscillating tremor, the bite of his cold skin against your heated ones spiking. “If I want to give up? Would I fail you then?”

“I don’t think you’re someone who cares about failing others, so don’t fret whether you’d please me or not,” Just like that, Naoya’s scornful tone had risen again. He let go of you until you dropped down to your palms, blinking back at the sudden change of atmosphere. “Like I said, just do what you need to do, keep going. Don’t look back or be afraid to take the next big step because I’ll always be there right beside you.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“I’m not asking you to, princess,” he snickered, already half way to the door that only he was allowed to go in. Even though you’ve been staying in his manor for quite some time, there were still some things Naoya didn’t trust you with, leaving you only more curious to find out the secrets within.

“Only time will tell. But once you’ve made your decision, know that my ring is always waiting beside your table,” his voice echoed through the large room, stopping in his tracks to look at you once more. This time, he had no haunting features, only the cold emptiness likened to staring back to an infinite void of nothingness.

“I expect an answer when I get home.”

You still remembered the day you decided to wear his ring. Naoya had come then, tired and aggravated from matters he didn’t bother explaining. You stood on his doorway, lips shut tight as you nervously fiddled with your ring, unsure if whether you should tell him or allow him to piece the puzzle himself.

Thankfully, Naoya was a lot more observant than you gave him credit for.

His eyes slid over your face before he followed the motion of your fingers, smirking as the jewel glinted under the bright lights of his home. Wise choice, he’d once told you, and you believed it.

Your life hadn’t been the same ever since. Your spontaneous marriage equated to hellish training of perfecting your image as his trophy wife, spending hours in his secret laboratory and discussing business plans through a glass of wine. Naoya wasn’t around much to teach you everything and it pained him to be your own trainer too so you had to ask help from his guards, refusing to give up and fall down even as your muscles screamed at you to take a break. For Naoya, with Naoya, giving up and running away felt like a myth; a buried solution in the past that should never be brought up again. But now that he was gone, you did exactly that.

You’d given up. Satoru had made you run away.

“Miss,” a deep voice cut you from your thoughts. You tore your gaze away from the glowing night city of Milan to turn to Satoru’s right hand man, the tall figure looming rather shyly instead of imposingly. “You haven’t eaten since we got here. Would you like anything? Mr. Gojo will cover your expenses.”

“I want to go home.”

He froze at your deadpan statement. Finally meeting your gaze under his lashes, Geto pursed his lips. “You know we can’t do that, Miss. It’s unsafe back in Japan.”

“And who’s to say Toji won’t follow us here?” you snapped, pushing your weight off the Cleopatra set and uncrossing your legs. “Why can’t your stupid boss just activate the account and give it back to us? I think we’ve made it clear we’re more than capable of handling our finances, and I’m pretty sure Satoru doesn’t need any more money when he can afford all this.”

“Mr. Gojo…has his reasons for everything he does.”

You laughed bitterly. Maybe it was the fact that Satoru had left this morning for whatever business he had that you didn’t have anyone else to let your anger out to that you’d swiped your gun under your thigh holster and dashed his way.

Geto’s back slammed against the wall, the cool barrel of your gun pressed to his jaw. He swallowed nervously, eyes darting to your weapon, and you laughed heartlessly. “Oh, please, do tell because nothing makes sense,” you crooned, flipping the safety off and letting your heated gaze meet his rather docile ones. You almost felt bad for him. Almost.

“I could easily put a bullet through your head and hijack his plane. I’ll be gone before you know it and who’s to stop me from doing that? Why should I stay here any longer with you?”

“Because your husband asked you to,” Geto responded softly. You stepped back with wide eyes, yesterday’s event crashing all over you once again. He must’ve sensed you no longer held any hostility because he used his pointer finger to move the barrel away from him, gently peeling your hands off his suit. “Because you know, if you go back to Japan, there will be nothing waiting for you there.”

You balled your fists. “I will kill Fushiguro Toji myself. Then I’ll kill Satoru.”

“Even if he used to be your lover?”

“Especially because he used to be my lover.”

Okay…maybe your plan of escaping and returning to Japan hadn’t worked out that well. Exhaustion finally crept up to your senses that you passed out not long after attacking Geto – who reassured you to no end he wasn’t mad you tried to kill him – and days have passed ever since. You hated to admit it, but being stuck in an overseas hotel wasn’t so bad. Geto’s presence was a lot more comforting than his master’s that you didn’t mind having him watch your every move. Plus, he was really nice to immediately follow your every whim. You wanted hot chocolate? Extra pillows? A really expensive wine that you refused to pay for because you were petty and dramatic? He provided it all without question.

Except he probably should have, because you’d stripped off to your underwear, head tipped back to take one final swig of the nearly empty bottle as you slid deeper into the tub.

Your fiery nature of rolling your eyes at Satoru every time he came around (which was rare, for some reason) couldn’t fool anyone – not even yourself. The moment Geto retired to the living room, you would bite the pillows to muffle your cries, thinking back to when Naoya was still alive. It was an endless torment of what if you had stayed, what if you had pushed the rubble off him, what if you just saved him?

Would he still be alive? Would he have survived? Would you be back with him in the Zen’in Estate instead of holding your breath under the tub in a desperate attempt to conceal your tears?

It hurt so bad. It hurt everywhere.

Your lungs begged you to rise up and breathe, but you stayed still under the water, eyes shut tight and hands clenched around the tub’s edges so hard your knuckles turned white. Soon, you grew dizzy and your grip slipped away. Finally, fucking finally, you were falling, falling way too deep that your legs bent inside the tub. Bubbles erupted from your lips in one last breath. At the back of your mind, you let out a sincere laugh for you’d meet your husband soon. He’d be disappointed, probably scold you all the way to the afterlife – until strong arms pulled you out of the tub and into someone’s chest instead.

“Shit, what are you doing?! You could’ve drowned!”

You coughed out water and fisted Satoru’s button-up shirt that had now clung to his skin from the water. Looking around you, you were still very much alive, the uncomfortable twisting of your heart a painful reminder of that. Above you, Satoru sat you in his lap while he remained cross-legged on the floor, muttering curses under his breath as he wrapped a towel around you.

Scoffing, you pushed his hands away, though you kept the towel anyway to lessen your shivering. Why the fuck was the AC so damn strong here?

“Dying seems like a better option, don’t you think?” you snarled at him, teeth chattering from the chill that had begin to seep in.

Momentarily, you worried on how much of a hot mess you probably looked like. Smudged eyeliner, wine-stained lips, unbrushed hair and remnants of the wine mixing with the once clear bath water – you shook your head at the thought and glared at Satoru.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“I was out contacting friends to ask for help. We’re going to need a hundred pairs of eyes watching anywhere that Toji could possibly come through.”

“Is this your pathetic idea of ‘keeping me safe’? Locking me up in this stupid hotel and having your man watch me all the time?” you pushed yourself off him, the sudden motion of standing up giving you wobbly legs. Satoru reached over to steady you but you slapped his hand away, your glare warning him to not take another step.

Seeing his face, seeing him worried as if he didn’t just cause your life to turn into absolute hell, you wanted to grab the wine bottle and smash it right at his pretty face. He had no right to look at you with pity.

You hated him, utterly and terribly despised this man with your entire being.

“What are you really planning, Satoru? Why can’t we just come back home and attack Toji with all we’ve got? Why don’t you just give back our fucking money so we can end all this for once and for all and I can leave?!”

“Because I don’t have the money!”

“What?”

“The money…” Satoru’s back slid off the wall, his palm coming up to thread through his hair. He sounded weak, defeated. “I don’t have it.”

“Gojo,” you snatched him by the collar, teeth bared as you demanded, “What do you mean you don’t have it?”

Satoru paled. “When I stole the money from the Zen’ins, the figures were all fake. They’re not real, there’s no actual money hidden behind their accounts and it was too late before I realized that,” his lips trembled as he continued, “Whatever Toji placed in there, it’s not his actual account where he hides everything and it would make sense too because I stole it too easily – almost as if they wanted me to take it. A few hacks here and there and it was immediately wired to me but after meeting you…” Satoru shook his head, chin dropped down low. “I checked again and the account never existed. It’s a fake one. The digits are just there for show.”

“So then why would Toji want it? Why did my husband have to die for nothing?!”

“I don’t know, okay, I don’t know anything!” he argued back until your faces grew closer, his nose brushing with yours.

Somehow, you couldn’t pull away. His knees had drawn up, forcing you to rest on his thighs as you both breathed heavily, your grip on his collar almost havered.

“Whatever the Zen’ins are hiding, that’s beyond me. I may be in the business for far longer than they have, but they have always been notorious with their possessions that I’m not surprised even I can’t find where it really leads back to. Whatever Toji is hiding there, your husband must’ve known something about it. Why else would they fight tooth and bone over it?”

“If there was, Naoya would’ve told me about it.”

“He would if he trusted you,” Satoru suddenly grabbed your wrist and shook it until you stared at your ring. “How are you even so sure he could trust you with that information? Have you forgotten you’re just a pawn to his game and you’re nothing but a bed warmer?”

“Don’t you ever speak about us that way. You don’t know how much he cared for me.”

“If he really did, then why didn’t he tell you why his cousin is after you? He’s using you as bait, Y/N. I’m not the bad guy here. That man you’re so deeply in love with? I can’t guarantee he’s better than me. We’re all men in the mafia, love is the last thing we would care about.”

You pushed yourself off him.

His words stung too much, not because it was a lie, but because you know there was some sort of truth ringing behind it. You trudged out of the bathroom and sat on the bed, unstirred by the fact you dripped all over the carpeted floor. From behind you, Satoru’s rushed footsteps echoed, but you didn’t care. You simply threw on a robe with your back turned to him.

“And you’d know that better than everyone right? Considering how easy it was for you to leave me?” When Satoru didn’t respond, you chuckled humorlessly and sat on the bed. “What Naoya and I had…it was a friendship that healed my soul. I don’t…I don’t know what to do without him.”

“Friendship?”

You smiled sadly. “I wasn’t actually in love with him, idiot. Men like Naoya don’t know what love is, but he sure does know how to protect family.”

The notion of talking about him, of accepting that maybe he really was gone…somewhat reliving.

Satoru was the last person you wanted to talk to your late husband about, but Geto – which is the much better company – wasn’t around, and you hugged your knees to yourself, refusing to let Satoru see through your vulnerability.

“You know, I trusted him more than I did myself. He was always there for me, no matter what. His soul was dark, angry, corrupted – he’s not the man I would fall for, but despite all that, he was the friend I needed,” you buried your face in your knees, voice muffled as you cried, your heart shattering again and again and again.

The ring on your finger had never felt so heavy ever since you wore it.

“I loved him as much as I hated you.”

Satoru was silent, so much so that you wondered if he was even in the same room at all. You sat there crying, too hopeless to even try to conceal it anymore. Shivering, you close your eyes and forced the image of Naoya’s last moments away from your memories, desperately praying to whoever had mercy that you could just forget all about it.

“Geto told me you tried to kill him,” Satoru murmured after a beat, “You could’ve easily escaped and went back to Japan if you wanted to, so why didn’t you? Was it because of me?”

You remembered what you tried to do today.

Just like that, Naoya was alive once more. You were brought back to the day of your wedding when he’d clasped your sweaty, clammy hands in his, rubbing some warmth in them before pressing a kiss at the top of your knuckles. He’d asked you to promise him something then – an entire contrast from his constants orders over your well-being – and it was a promise you’d momentarily forgotten; a promise you’d broken out of mourning.

“Naoya once told me,” you reminisced through dry, cracked lips and even more shattered heart, the picture of his disappointment as clear as day. “Death was the only place he can go where he would never allow me to follow.”

It took a lot, but it somehow got better. After allowing yourself a faint moment of weakness where Naoya resurfaced in your mind to remind you of our promise and your purpose, you felt stronger, somewhat steadier with each step you took. You were still wary around Satoru, although that was a given.

His friend, Geto, was really nice, on the other hand, and you couldn’t explain why you always lowered your guard around the formal dark-haired assistant.

You and Geto were playing chess when Satoru barged in out of nowhere, a plate and a syrup condenser on his hand. “So I got you breakfast,” was his greeting, nodding at Geto once as a silent order to give you two privacy. You pouted as the latter left, but soon your attention had been diverted to the heavenly aroma filling in your senses. Seeing your approval, Satoru hid a smile behind his dark sunglasses. “Still like pancakes?”

“Trying to get into my good graces now?”

“I’m just trying to cheer you up.”

You rolled your eyes but snatched the plate from him anyway. “So I talked to my lawyer,” you begun, pouring syrup all over the fluffy bread until it was almost spilling to the sides. Beside you, Satoru’s snickers were barely muffled, to which you ignored wholeheartedly. “They’ve already processed my inheritance over Naoya’s possessions and assets. Once we return to Japan, I’ll be the next leader of the Zen’in Clan, much to the disappointment of his elders, of course, but they can’t do anything about it,” you informed him with your fork hanging in mid-air, the words falling thickly. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“That we’re back to being enemies?”

You offered him a sarcastic smile. “Naoya lied about strengthening his alliance with your family. He doesn’t actually give a fuck about you.”

“I figured that much,” he snickered to himself, shifting his weight until his elbows rested on his thighs. “Listen…a friend of mine is flying to Milan tonight to meet us. They have strong connections with banks all over the world and they brought in some information about that hidden Zen’in account. I think we’re finally getting off to somewhere and finding out what really is in there,” Satoru gauged for your reaction, but you kept eating – more like stuffing the pancakes inside your mouth for you were finally free of having to act perfect without your husband.

Satoru’s hand landed on top of yours. “I promise…I’ll give it back to right where it belongs. As soon as it’s wired back to you, I’m setting you free.”

You stared at the unwanted figure over you, and you snatched your hand back, waving a bread knife below his lashes. “You can’t set me free when I was never yours,” you sang breathily, the tip of the blade hovered right at his lips. Satoru raised a brow at you, but you quickly retrieved the knife back with widened eyes. “Now that you mention it…I think Naoya told me something about his family stashing secret weapons and even heirlooms through offshore accounts and buried under islands. He was a little sleepy during that time but I remember it,” pushing the plate away from you as you lost your appetite, you clutched your palms under your chin in thought. “He said he was looking for something he lost as a child, possibly an heirloom.”

“He’s doing all this for heirlooms?” Satoru immediately coughed his words back when you glared at him, raising his hands in surrender. “I mean, I was just saying. I didn’t think he was a sentimental type of guy.”

“The question here is what both Toji and Naoya could’ve both wanted from that account. It’s not just an heirloom, obviously there’s something there worth more than money,” You argued and slapped your knees, heading straight to your (unfortunately) shared room. “Whatever. I’ll get this over with as soon as I get the money back.”

Satoru, as always, was hot on your heels. It annoyed you how he trailed over you like some sort of puppy or shadow – Naoya had always been too classy to not give you space.

The difference between them just kept getting more and more uncannily obvious.

“Whoa there, stop. Did you really think I’d give back the money to you and that’s it? Are you forgetting the fact Toji is out there to kill you just so he can have his hands on it?”

“He can have the money for all I fucking care,” you shrugged and sat on your bed, scrolling through numerous piles of emails and records that Naoya entrusted you to keep. Surely you could find something. “I just need to find whatever Naoya’s spent his whole life killing for.”

“Why don’t you care about the money? Didn’t Naoya expect you to take over his business?”

Your thumb froze over a file. Suddenly, your throat grew dry, and you quickly flashed Satoru a stinky eye. “I-it’s not my main concern.”

“It’s not safe for you. If Toji finds out—”

Got it. You bookmarked an email Naoya had forwarded you around three years ago and resent it to an old friend, pocketing the phone back to your pyjamas before Satoru could see. “I’ll handle it. I’ve been doing well so far before you came into our lives again,” you finalized, stopping for a bit as you waited for that all-too familiar footfall matching with yours, only for the room to be coated in silence.

Satoru stood there on the other side of the room, eyes deep in thought before he sighed. “I’ll meet you at the hotel restaurant tonight. We have a lot to discuss on what our next move should be,” nodding once, Satoru left the room.

The hotel room was eerily silent.

Dinner came around faster than you expected. With Geto out to run some errands for Satoru, something about ‘establishing bases’ or whatever, you were locked in your room, using Naoya’s black card to get enough amount of clothing to last you for your stay here. Even though Satoru had promised he’d take care of everything, you didn’t want to be in his debt for any longer. You weren’t his, you were Naoya’s, and you shot down his curious looks when heaps of shopping bags had been delivered to your door.

An hour later, you left the room, struggling to zipper the back of your dress. Satoru was already in the living room buttoning up his suit jacket, just as handsome as ever (though you’d never tell him that.)

His hands froze in the last button once his eyes landed on you, and you huffed at him, too distressed to even act cute or bothered while pointing to your dress. Satoru strode to you in three long steps, his cold fingers brushing against the dip of your spine when he clutched on the zipper.

You had to bite your lip down to prevent the shivers from spilling through, his lips dangerously close to your ear as he whispered, “You look great.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

If Satoru was bothered by the lack of sincerity in your voice, he didn’t comment on it. He removed his hands from you and watched as you slipped black velvet gloves through your arms – just in case you had to end up killing someone; leaving fingerprints was a risk you couldn’t take.

“Did you really get dressed to kill?”

“I came here to negotiate,” you corrected, “I’ll do everything I can to find out whatever’s behind that offshore account. And you, sir,” Frowning at him, you pulled Satoru closer by the tie, perhaps a little too harshly since he nearly knocked his head with yours. He was quick to steady himself as you fixed his tie, flattening it down with your fingers. “You need to know where you should stick your nose in. This is more my business than yours so don’t get in my way acting all hero and shit. I assure you I can handle myself.”

“You’re really going to berate me for worrying about you?”

“You can no longer worry about me,” you disclosed, snatching your black purse from the counter before doing the come hither motion at his shock-still figure. “Now let’s go. We have a case to crack.”

“Case to crack? You sure sound like a detective.”

You snickered, but made no further comment. The elevators dinged and you arrived at the restaurant, which you really regretted not visiting soon enough because the place was grand. Red carpeted floors, golden chandeliers, soft jazz music playing in the background as the lights dimmed down low, the faint clinking of utensils against plates and light chatter of the guests so heartbreakingly nostalgic.

It seemed that even after his death, Naoya had every intention to never leave your side. The setting reminded you too much of your never-ending late night fancy dinners.

Naoya being Naoya, he didn’t blink twice in flaunting his money and renting out entire restaurants all for himself, claiming that he just ‘wanted to have an intimate moment with his wife.’ Sure, it mostly consisted of you discussing what move you should make next, but it was the most affectionate gesture you’ve received after spending years in the quiet and cold environment of the Zen’in Estate.

The outside world wasn’t any better when you and Naoya were marked as targets by the entire government, so it made sense, that only with him that you’d find comfort in.

You must be so out of it you never even noticed Satoru leading you to your seat, a warm meal that should’ve been comforting right under your nose. It was too much – too similar that you headed straight for the wine, ignoring Satoru’s questioning gaze. You noticed from the corner of his eye that he opened his mouth too many times in an attempt to make light conversation, but this dinner wasn’t for you to rekindle your old flame.

No, you were here to wait for his ‘friend’ and review important matters. You were determined to fulfill that purpose alone and only that alone that you never once made eye contact with him, even standing up to reach the salt shaker near him instead of asking him to pass it.

Just as you leaned back to your seat, the music grew louder. A foreign man walked to the stage where he was basked in the spotlight, all heads turning to him when he tapped the microphone, sending little echoes all over the hall. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s loosen up tonight with a drink and bring our lovers out here on the dance floor,” he sang while swaying side to side, snapping his fingers to the beat that had turned into calming to sensual. “It is a fine evening, isn’t it? Come on, don’t be shy, the night is still so young!”

You dropped your fork beside the plate. “Did you know about this?”

“I swear, I had no idea.”

“Those two attractive lovers in table 42, the dance floor is still much too spacious!”

“Pretty vulgar for a five star hotel,” you commented under your breath and dabbed the pasta sauce off your lips with a napkin, slapping it down the table as you stood up – much to Satoru’s surprise who’d tried to make himself invisible from the host’s eyes. Stupid him; did he really think he could blend in with his sunglasses and snow white hair?

If you were to be honest, you’d rather choke on shrimp than dance with him, but you had an image to upkeep. If you couldn’t gather with the crowd and pretend to be one with others, both your true natures would be fished out even with innocent eyes. You were left with no choice but to be comfortable in the dance floor, sighing deeply as you placed your hands down on Satoru’s wide shoulders. He furrowed his brows at you but said nothing else; strong, cautious hands sliding down from your back before they settled at the curve of your hips.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Mister. I won’t hesitate to stab a fork through your jugular right here.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I know you’re not my little angel anymore.”

Angel. It was what he used to call you back then – when you were still but an innocent, naïve being who never believed in monsters until you fell for one.

He was right; you were no longer his angel. The woman he loved had been left abandoned in the street, the purity of her soul tainted with anger and heartbreak that soon bathed in blood and the need for revenge. His angel was no more – the woman he danced with was nothing but a replica of the face and body he adored the most. Now, you danced with him, not as his angel and neither as his rival’s wife, but simply as a woman whose kindness had long vanished into thin air.

Satoru danced with the devil.

And he should be disgusted just as you should be repulsed with how sickeningly smooth and graceful he was in everything he did, but the wine – yes, it was the fucking wine – messed with you that you actually enjoyed it. Your bodies moved in rhythm and syncopated with the beat, the romantic high notes of the violin and the tender embrace of deep trebles like a classical painting coming to life and you were its subjects to be expressed.

Perhaps…you were just sad. You grieved and mourned too much you’d momentarily forgot what love was, in turn making you forget what it felt like to be constantly unsafe and peeking over your shoulder in case someone tried to kill you.

Satoru just felt so warm, so safe and alive that you found your head dipping lower, your muscles relaxing around his soothing and undeniably tender touch, the space between your bodies diminishing until you surrendered to the power of your desire. You were so close, your ear about to press on his chest to listen to the blissful sound of someone’s reassuring heartbeat along with the music, and then you saw him.

A tuft of blonde hair, a chiseled face, a nude cream suit and a deep blue shirt beneath – what the fuck was he doing here?

The spell was broken in an instant.

Satoru must’ve been under the same trance for his hand trailed lower to pull you closer, your chests grazing with one another before you placed your palm flat on his body, lips thinned into a grim look that resonated with the sick, twisting feeling in your guts.

“I,” you croaked out, clearing your throat when it went dry. “I need to go to the ladies.”

You left Satoru without another word, bunching your dress up to run to where he had disappeared. He was still walking coolly and inspecting the paintings hung in the empty lobby with faux interest – although knowing him, the bastard probably did enjoy classical pieces and studied about them in his free time; which he didn’t have much to begin with.

As if sensing your presence, he stopped right in front of a replica of The Sleeping Venus, his hands dug deep in his pockets. “The shape of being is the visual demonstration of a state of being in which idealized existence is suspended in immutable slow-breathing harmony. All the sensuality has been distilled off from this sensuous presence, and all incitement; Venus denotes not the act of love but the recollection of it. The perfect embodiment of Giorgione’s dream, she dreams his dream herself,” he narrates in his baritone voice, “A little cordial, is it not?”

You took your gun out from your thigh holster and lowered it right at the back of his skull. “Don’t move another inch.”

“No need to be so hostile in a public setting, Y/N. I’m only here to look out for you and making sure you’re not forgetting who you are. Killing me isn’t part of the plan.”

“Neither was murdering my husband,” you growled, pushing the barrel harder against him, though the man didn’t budge before you. “I know that it wasn’t Toji who set off the bomb, Kento, you did.”

“We simply saw an opportunity that couldn’t be wasted. Two notorious mafia leaders in an unsuspecting supposed safe environment?” The fact he didn’t even deny it left you speechless. Kento spun around until your gun rested between his eyes, and he languidly pushed his glasses up his high nose as he looked down on you. “We could’ve killed two birds with one stone had you not been in the way.”

“You guys are out to kill me too now?”

“Don’t act too surprised. The Organization isn’t patient enough to wait for both leaders to die.”

“So you killed my husband?!” you argued, “He was my friend, I told you not to touch him!”

“Only in the exchange that you hand him to us,” Kento echoed, jogging your memory until you were kept up to date. “But it’s been five years and what has happened so far? You’re fraternizing with the enemy and even manufacturing drugs for your so-called husband. Now that he’s dead, you’re here in Italy, looking as stunning as ever as you wine and dine with a former lover,” Kento tilted his head to the side to study your appearance – smiling at how you seemed too bright and fashionable for a woman in supposed mourning.

“I hardly believe you’re actually affected by this at all.”

“How dare you! I’ve proven to no end my loyalty of the higher-ups!”

Kento didn’t bat an eye at your outburst. If anything, he stepped closer to your weapon. “Kill me if you wish, Y/N, but know the moment you put a bullet in my head, the Organization will place you on the same pedestal as Naoya’s and Gojo’s. I wouldn’t recommend such methods considering we’re already at unease on whose side you’re really on. If you do this, you will be our enemy.”

“I did everything for the Organization. What else would you want from me?”

“The contract was easy. We want both leaders – whether dead or alive – in our custody. If you don’t hold your side of the deal, it’s not only your life that we’ll take from you,” Kento pulled out a red coin that made your heart sink deep into your stomach for it served as a threat over the consequences of your actions.

He lowered your gun with the coin and smirked at you, his lips right beside the shell of your ear as he purred, “I suggest you be careful with what step of action you take next.”

“Oi, Nanami, you’re here!” Satoru’s voice suddenly boomed in the hallway. Nanami was as unbothered as ever from taking a step away from you, nodding to your gun which you quickly concealed right before Satoru arrived. You were frozen – rendered immobile with the flashing red metal from his palm – that you couldn’t even protest against Satoru wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I see you’ve met Mrs. Zen’in already.”

“Hmm, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Madam,” taking your hand in his, Kento’s eyes were nothing but eerie as he kissed your knuckles. “Shall we start our discussion?”

SUKI RANTS! Nanami quoted Sydney Joseph Friedberg (an art critic) in one of his dialogues. A little backstory on the painting was that the portrait was originally made by Giorgone, who had a student and also his lover (if I’m not mistaken) called Titian. Giorgone never finished the portrait because he died from the plague but Titiane finished it for him, symbolizing that Y/N still has a mission that connected her from Naoya even after his death and she has to finish something he started. The portrait is of a nude woman that symbolized oneness of nature and that the woman isn’t posed for the gaze of men, but rather they are dreaming, hence the quote: “Venus denotes not the act of love but the recollection of it. The perfect embodiment of Giorgione’s dream, she dreams his dream herself.” Nanami said the painting’s meaning resonated with Y/N’s situation too much since she wasn’t in love with Naoya, but she had a recollection of their moments that still represented their relationship, and that Naoya’s dream (goals) are also shared by Reader. I was gonna ask you guys what your theories are on that scene but I think this makes me sound cooler if I explain it so *lip bite emoji because I’m still broken over Naoya’s death*

taglist open (lmk if you want to be added/removed):

@sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @asshxcm @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn @90s-belladonna @tinyfrogsinmybrain @kinekyuroo @evesmores @ambiguous-something @lilith412426 @kakashiharusohma @aizawap @yumeneji @dora-the-grownup @jotazinha @themrsgojo @d34r-s4t4n @marai-t @toji-bee @hai-cool @badsadbby @stesphy @peach-buns-unicorns @misslezah @gracefullyfallinglikeanime @iwaplant @mikiminaccch @riri-marley | bolded users cannot be tagged

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yandere-sins · 3 years

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How about a fairytale scenario? A prince/princess/royal is in love with a very uninterested darling who manages to run away and make a deal with a witch who turns them into a monster in an attempt to make their yandere leave them alone? Maybe the cure is true loves kiss but since they don’t love the yandere it never works? Idk I think it’s an interesting concept and it’s been stuck in my head for a while

Ooooh! I like that! Very good idea anon, thanks for sending it in ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

“My Beloved!”

The prince’s voice made you flinch as it shook you from your nap. As good as you could, you heaved your giant head in the opposite direction from the door, pressing your snout to the cold stone wall. Its smell and temperature weren’t pleasant anymore, now that you were... well, whatever creature the witch had turned you into. Your heightened senses didn’t make it easier, now that you could smell every speck of mold and hear the scratching of tiny bug legs skittering through the stones.

The heavy, silver chains all over your body and limbs didn’t help either.

“We found a cure!” he claimed, his voice as sweet as honey, caring and hopeful, and yet so, so revolting since you knew the person behind it better than anyone else. It was easy to fool a kingdom with a sunny smile and encouraging speeches, but the one person he’d never trick again with his rotten personality was you.

Teeth clenched, you tried to ignore him, hoping he might be discouraged by seeing you unresponsive to his words. There had been too many potions, too many plants, he made you digest which were supposed to ‘help’ you, that you’d never want to even open your mouth anymore. You never even asked for his help; you just wanted him to leave you alone! When you hatched the plan of how to escape this fanatic, being recaptured by him and held in the dungeon, far away from anyone except the prince and the magicians he hired to ‘help’ you, wasn’t a part of it. You still blamed yourself that you hesitated to injure him worse than just breaking his arm when he found you. That you hesitated long enough for a bottled potion to hit you, bringing you down into a deep slumber and allowing them to bring you back to your personal hell that was the prince’s castle.

“My Beloved,” he repeated, this time in a tender whisper while he sank next to your disfigured body, a gentle hand coming down onto the fur of your front leg, caressing it comfortingly. “We’ve been wrong so many times...” he lamented, but you could hear the smile on his lips as he continued. “But finally, we know, and it’s no potion nor herb that will turn you back into a human.”

So what is it? you were inclined to ask, though you kept quiet. Just so you’d know what to avoid in the future.

“It’s a true love’s kiss,” he swooned, following it up with a deep sigh of longing. Your stomach churned as you heard his solution to your ‘problem’, but all you could muster was a haughty huff, thinking how you’d never love him. This wouldn’t work, you were already aware.

There was no way you could love the person that tore you from your family for his own amusement. Who humiliated you in front of other nobles so he could have some giggles, and yet, when you decided to run away from his maltreatment, chained you into his private room, sobbing into your lap of how he cannot live without you after keeping you there without food and water for days. What was real and what was fake about him was a thin line to discern, but you had been forced to stay long enough with the prince to not trust even one word of his. He’d try to suck up to you with presents and food, promising the world to you. And then, the moment you said you didn’t like what he did, he’d turn his back on this love he swore to harbor for you, punishing you and threatening to hurt your family too if you’d ever break his heart again.

It was then that you figured out he was lonely, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but be scared of his actions.

“You know there is no one else, no human nor monster, that adores you as much as I do. Thus, I will lift this curse from you, my Dearest! There isn’t anyone else who can do it. Right?”

Hearing his question made you not want to move your head in his direction all the more. But even with one hand, the prince knew where to touch for it to be uncomfortable. That damn spot under your throat made you flinch when you felt his fingertips drag over it, and you raised your head as far as the chain holding you down allowed. Growling at him didn’t concern the prince at all as he scooted closer, his hand falling to the side of your head, his face burying into the soft fur that covered all of your newly-obtained body.

Secretly, you wished that someone would come to save you from all this. Not particularly your new monstrous form, but rather, the prince and his doings. You wanted a real prince in shining armor to come and kiss you, whisk you away on his pretty, white steed. Never to be seen again. That would be your dream. This act and tragedy had been going on too long, and you feared that as it was, it would never end in a happy ending for you.

The prince kissed you between your eyes, observing if anything was happening for a few seconds before his lips proceeded down your snout. After every caress, he stopped, watching if anything changed. As you glanced briefly into his eyes, you saw the frustration grow. It would have been easier if it had worked - you had to admit - for both of you. Because every kiss more he had to watch fail, the more he grew unrestraint, his expression darkening and teeth clenching hard while his hand began to shake from frustration, or perhaps anger already.

“Why is it not working?” he asked as if he expected you to answer him. However, if it wasn’t a growl or whine, your vocal cords didn’t speak the same language anymore. Surely, there would have been a lot you would have told him if you could have opened your mouth and spoken. But this way, and much to your own surprise, he had to figure it out himself.

“Is it because you don’t love me?” he asked, fingers tangling into your fur harshly. “That’s what you said, right? That you don’t love me.”

A short, desperate laugh escaped him as he looked up and stared down at you with wide eyes. “It’s supposed to be a true love’s kiss, don’t you understand? Are you too stupid to even understand that? Do you want to stay like this, looking like a rotten mutt? Do you hate me so much?”

His questions were unanswered, even as he yanked hard at your fur, a stinging pain shooting through your face. “Answer me!” he demanded, screaming it into the void that was the dungeon where no one but you and him resided. “Ha... Hahaha...”

His laugh was muffled by his hand tearing away from you and instead clasping over his face, making him take a deep breath. “That’s okay. You’ll have a lot of time to learn to love me. Or you rot down here, it’s your decision.”

Standing up, the prince left you behind, a pitiful pile of meat and hair, chained to the ground by the most expensive chains he could buy from all the money he possessed. How much did it anger him, you wondered, that even though he had everything, he couldn’t have you?

“Don’t forget.” Glancing over his shoulder, the heavy doors slowly closed behind him. “You can be with me forever, or you can die here alone. No one mourns such a hideous creature when it’s gone. Only I can love you as you are now, but you lack choices. My darling Monster.”

With the prince disappearing together with the light of the torches, you were cast into the darkness reigning in your new home. Alone, pitiful, quiet. Restraint and captured as nothing more than the beast of a kingdom. It was the same darkness that never let you forget who and what you were.

Nothing. You were nothing without the prince who walked in the light while being the darkness himself.

#Prince #yandere prince #yandere!prince #monster #monsters #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW #Anonymous

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writingwithacupoftea · 4 years

Text

The Perfect Birthday Present

Summary: Y/N Shelby’s birthday was fast approaching, and Tommy has no idea what to buy for her. Who would have thought that a night of drunken antics would give him the perfect answer?

Word Count: 2462

Y/B/M = Your birth month

A/N: Is this fic basically a belated birthday present to myself? Yes. Is it completely different to the one I planned? Absolutely 😂 Hope you all love this one as much as I do 💜

Upon Tommy's arrival back to Arrow House, Mary could tell as soon as he stepped out of the car that he was in a foul mood, even by his standards.

He'd been in London for the past week, sorting out some business. That part of the trip had gone well, Tommy had conceded, but the same couldn't be said for the other part of his mission: finding a birthday present for Y/N. In the past the Shelby's had clubbed together to buy presents, however this year Tommy wanted to get Y/N something special that was just from him.

It was to be a thank you, really, for having put up with his shit for so long, yet never wavering in her loyalty to him. To say that he was supposed to be the one looking after her, for Y/N was his little sister, the roles had definitely been reversed over the last few years: she had helped him through his nightmares and opium addiction, provided him with brutal and blatant honesty (no matter how much he sulked or raged afterwards until he realised that she was right), and had dropped everything to move to Arrow House with him and Charlie after Grace's death.

To say that he was grateful for Y/N would be an understatement.

But seeing as everyone knew that Thomas Shelby was abysmal when it comes to talking about emotions, he wanted to show it in the only way he knew how – spending ridiculous amounts of his money on her.

He had dragged Ada through all of the best shops in London, looking for something spectacular to gift to Y/N. Tommy had ignored Ada's reminders about Y/N's love for simplicity and the little things: in his eyes, Y/N deserved the best that money could buy, so that's what he would get for her.

Yet nothing that they had looked at seemed quite right – it just wasn't Y/N enough. He should've realised then that Ada was right.

So Tommy returned to Warwickshire a day earlier than expected, empty-handed, exhausted and annoyed at himself.

Curiosity took over, however, upon hearing music echoing through the halls of Arrow House. After following it, even Tommy's seemingly ice-cold heart melted slightly at the sight that greeted him home: Y/N has dug out the old gramophone, which hadn't been used since Grace had died, and she was dancing around the room with a whiskey in one hand and a half-smoked cigarette in the other.

Tommy smiled softly at the sight of his sister swaying to the music, unaware that she was being watched. She looked young and happy and carefree, a far cry from her usual reserved and guarded self. Tommy forgot about his own troubles just watching her, enjoying seeing Y/N so alive.

But quickly, his mood changed and the smile vanished. Tommy found himself mourning, almost, the life that Y/N should've had, but because of him she could never live. Times like this shouldn't have been a rarity for his little sister: her whole life should have been filled with the unabated joy that exuded from her in this moment. Instead, she looked over her shoulder at every turn, cleared up the mess after each of his mistakes and constantly walked the streets with a target on her back.

Y/N chose this moment to turn around, having noticed that her glass was empty once again, and was momentarily stunned at seeing Tommy. That feeling passed in an instant, however, and she found herself barrelling across the room, throwing herself into her brother's arms. "TOM!" Her delight could be seen from a million miles away.

"You alright?" He rubbed her back gently as they hugged, and he noticed the strong smell of whiskey on her. "How many of those have you had?" Tommy gestured to the empty glass sat on the table, which Y/N was now refilling, along with a second one that she poured for him.

"Only one or two, Tom." Despite her best efforts to look and sound innocent, what Y/N didn't realise was that her flushed cheeks and the devilish glint in her eye gave her away, causing Tommy to smirk in amusement.

The track on the record changed to a lively Charleston, which only sounded vaguely familiar to Tommy's ears, however sparked far more of a reaction from his sister. She gasped loudly and downed her drink in one, slamming the glass down on the table, causing Tommy to raise his eyebrows at her. Y/N had a large smile plastered on her face as she exclaimed "Oh , I love this one!" She ran to turn the volume up, and started dancing once more.

"Won't this wake Charles up?" Tommy wasn't in the mood to deal with the screaming baby, especially if he was already fast asleep.

"Oh no, Tom, he's the reason I got the gramophone out in the first place. What I've discovered over the last few days is that your son adores music." Y/N turned to face Tommy, and adopted the matter-of-fact tone that she used so frequently with him. "A little dance to something upbeat to tire him out, then you put something gentler on and in no time at all he's out like a light."

Tommy felt guilt bubbling up inside of him, replacing his amusement at his younger sister's drunken state. Y/N had managed to find the solution that he had been looking for since Charlie's birth in a matter of days. It showed how little he knew about his own son, and was just another thing Y/N had had to figure out on her own, another problem that she had taken upon herself to solve for him.

Following Tommy's long silence, Y/N looked over at her elder brother, noticing the sad and far-away look on his face, and held out a hand dramatically towards him. "Will you join me, Tom, or have you forgotten how to dance?"

"I'm tired, Y/N/N. Another time, perhaps."

"So you have forgotten."

"Remember who taught you how to dance, sweetheart." His gaze softened as he recalled fond memories of his sister stepping on his toes. "Anyway, I don't think I could keep up with you now I'm older, as you kindly keep reminding me."

Y/N smirked at this. "Yes, Tom, but I'm older as well... that's how age works." She grabbed his hands in hers and started to force him to move his body a little to the music. "Come on, old man, you're not doing anything to help those creaking bones of yours!"

Tommy sighed, realising that he wasn't escaping, and reluctantly started to dance a bit with her. Y/N cackled at how out of practice he was, his movements stiff and face void of emotion, and was determined to get her older brother to loosen up before she went to bed.

***

A couple of hours later, the room was filled with laughter and both siblings had uncontainable smiles on their faces.

Everywhere was a mess. Records were strewn across the table, as they had quickly been through every one and couldn't remember which ones they liked the best; the furniture had been shoved to the side to make more space, with Tommy's suit and tie discarded on the sofa; and empty bottles of alcohol and various glasses were dotted around the room.

It's safe to say that Y/N had succeeded in her mission – Tommy was the happiest that she had seen him in a long time. She wished that this night could last forever, just her and her favourite brother in their own little world, where none of their worries could touch them.

***

The clock on the mantlepiece would have told Tommy that it was now the early hours of the morning, but he paid no attention to it

A slower tune played as the brother and sister swayed together in the middle of the room. Y/N was half-asleep, exhaustion having taken hold as her body caught up with the amount of alcohol she had consumed. It was rare for her to spend so much time with Tommy these days, despite having moved into his home, and she refused to waste one second of it while he was in the right mood.

As for Tommy himself, he was thinking; not at the fast-pace at which his thoughts usually raced, but just thinking. Well, more reminiscing. He hadn't spent a night like this since before the war; in fact he hadn't come close to feeling this free and at peace since before the war. Even when Grace was still here, his mind was more often than not occupied by business.

He thought about the not so little girl wrapped safely in his arms. Placing a soft kiss on the top of her head, he wondered ‘When did she become so grown up? Where did the time go?’

Breaking the quiet between them, Tommy only just heard his sister’s drunken mumbles of “This is the best birthday present ever,” and felt his heart melt even more.

He observed the contented smile that rested on his sister’s face and realised that Ada was right about Y/N: she lived for the special little things in life, she lived for family and for love, not money and jewels.

Y/N lived for moments like this… and, just like that, Tommy knew what the perfect present would be.

***

Two days later, and it was Y/N’s birthday.

Since it was a Sunday, all that she had wanted to do to celebrate was to have a big lunch with all of her family. So, the whole Shelby clan, spouses and children included, piled into Arrow House for one very chaotic afternoon.

Y/N couldn't have been happier with how the day turned out. Arguments were kept to a minimum (but Y/N secretly enjoyed the slight bickering that inevitably occurred), she was able to play with all of her nieces and nephews in the garden to her heart's content, and the whole of Arrow House had a buzz about it.

Even Tommy didn't seem to be as grumpy and pre-occupied as usual. Something had changed in her brother since that drunken night, and Y/N couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. But it was a change for the better, so she wasn't going to complain or question it. Despite her longing for a night like that again, she knew that it was an unrealistic dream: Tommy had far too much on his plate nowadays, even if Y/N thought that it would do him the world of good to let go every now and again. And, Y/N admitted to herself, she had missed her big brother much more than she realised.

But Y/N didn't dwell on that for too long, knowing that she'd miss out on things if she spent too long in her own head (such as John, who had just fallen out of a tree in an attempt to beat his own children in climbing it).

***

It was dusk before the family left, and as much as it was one of the best birthdays that Y/N could remember, she was glad for the quiet and a bit of time to herself.

After eating some more birthday cake and having a cup of tea on the bench in the garden, watching as the stars gradually appeared in the Y/B/M sky, Y/N retreated back inside having discovered that it was nearly midnight.

Mary informed her that her brother had already gone up to bed for the night. On any other day, Y/N would have been surprised at this bit of news, knowing how late Tommy normally stayed up to work; but her family was exhausting when they were all together for half an hour, never mind half a day, so she quietly padded up the stairs to do the same.

Her attention was immediately drawn to a large box that rested on her bed the moment that she entered her room. Y/N would’ve been suspicious if it wasn’t for the note that sat on top of it:

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.

Love,

Tommy x”

Excitement and intrigue building up inside of her rapidly, she untied the messy bow (Tommy had clearly tried his best) and lifted the lid. Inside she found four new records and two bottles of whiskey. For a moment she was confused, but then she found a second note:

“For the next time…

T x”

Y/N felt her heart swell with emotion and tears began to line her eyes as she smiled.

She threw on her nightdress and wandered down the hall to her brother’s bedroom. Knocking gently, she pushed the door open slightly, just enough to stick her head around it. Tommy’s crystal blue eyes locked with hers and she suddenly found herself wondering why she was there at all: she and Tommy were both awful at things like this (when then were sober, anyway). There was a reason why he left the present somewhere that she would find it by herself, rather than giving it to her himself.

Suddenly feeling awkward, Y/N smiled slightly and nodded, not knowing what to say to her brother. As she began to close the door again, Y/N heard a slight chuckle from inside the room and Tommy softly called her name.

She shuffled back into the room, looking at anything but her brother sat on the bed. "I know it's late, but I just wanted to say -" But she was unable to finish that important sentence, a loud, long yawn having escaped her.

When she opened her eyes again, Y/N saw, to her surprise, an amused smile playing on Tommy's lips. He pulled back the covers on the other side of his grand bed, and raised his eyebrows, silently posing a question that he hadn't asked for a long time.

In recent years, Tommy hadn't been overly affectionate: Y/N guessed that it was just another side effect of the war. So, when the opportunity arose for Y/N to get a hug from her brother (who used to give the best hugs, not that she'd ever tell her other family members), she would never refuse.

She half-ran over to the bed and snuggled under the duvet before Tommy could change his mind. Cuddling into his side and letting the warmth envelope her, the siblings lay there in silence for a while, perfectly content.

As Y/N's eyelids began to flutter shut, she mumbled into her brother's chest a soft "Thank you, Tom," that he only just caught.

Tommy tightened his arms around his Y/N's frame in response and pressed a kiss to her hair. He turned out the light next to him as he felt his little sister's breaths even out, and whispered so that no one else could hear: "No, darling, thank you."

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x sister reader #shelby sis #shelby sister #peaky blinders sister #peaky blinders x sister!reader #shelby!reader #shelby!sister #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #tommy shelby x sister!reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine

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kpop-zone · 3 years

Text

A Little Longer pt.4 | Jennie

Warnings: 1 curse word, alcohol abuse

Wordcount: 8,232

A/N: Merry belated Christmas anon, I’m sorry for the long wait 🎁✨ thank you to the ones who’ve kept up with this story! After 6 months and 28,000 words, I’ve finally managed to bring it to an end, I hope this part lives up to the other ones :)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

“Do you feel like your past is haunting you? We can help you with that!”

You chuckled bitterly when some salesman pressed a flyer into your hand as soon as you stepped out of the subway. He was talking about debts and wanted to sell you his financial services, but his statement couldn’t have been more descriptive of your life.

Weeks had passed since the disastrous night of Jiyong’s dinner and your relationship with Subin seemed to be good. It seemed to be good. You just couldn’t shake a certain feeling of restlessness though and you didn’t know why. Subin was everything that you could ask for. Attentive, understanding, loving. Nevertheless, something inside of you was telling you to watch out. It was driving you insane; the steady feeling of something lurking in the dark. And you were starting to get paranoid. You felt that you weren’t in control anymore; that something was slipping away, even if you didn’t know why. You would love nothing more than to pay that salesman some money for him to fix your problems. But that wasn’t possible unfortunately. You had to try yourself to keep everything in your life together. And tonight, you had to take actions again.

Subin had been acting weird for a while now. She was out with her friends from work more and more often and you didn’t like that. You knew that distance was an absolute relationship killer. Physical distance could turn into so much more after a while and you weren’t willing to let that happen. Not again. This time, you would hold on to the people that you loved. Being a control freak wasn’t like you at all, but if it guaranteed that you could keep control over your life, you would just act strange for a little longer; just until you could get rid of that unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach. Which was the reason why you had decided to confront Subin tonight.

With big steps you rushed back to your apartment after work, which was empty like expected. Bad-tempered, you sat down in the armchair in the living room and waited for your girlfriend’s return. Two, three, four hours passed until you finally heard her key turning in the lock and you huffed in annoyance. Had she really been out with colleagues for that long?

“Where have you been?”

You asked as soon as Subin turned on the lights in the living room, causing her to jump in shock.

“Jesus, Y/N. Why are you sitting in the dark? I was out with my colleagues; I’ve told you that.”

She chuckled before walking up to you to press a kiss on your lips, but you dodged her advances to her surprise.

“You’ve been out a lot lately...”

You said accusingly and your girlfriend’s demeanor changed immediately.

“And you have a problem with that because...?”

She asked snippy, but you stayed calm.

“Because we’re dating Subin. We can’t be apart all the time.”

You felt like your argument was reasonable, but Subin scoffed in response.

“Of course not. But we aren’t, Y/N. I don’t know why you are acting so strange lately. We’re basically living together by now. But you still have to allow me to have my own life.”

She sighed, tired of this discussion that you had had too often lately. This time, however, you weren’t planning on leaving this issue unresolved.

“Why? So you can leave me in the end when you’re getting tired of me?”

You scoffed, causing Subin to clench her jaw.

“Oh my god, grow up Y/N. I’m tired of this discussion. I have no idea where your trust issues are coming from, but you have to fix them yourself, I can’t do that for you. I’m tired of being the victim of them. If you are willing to talk like adults, call me.”

With that Subin turned on her heel and walked towards the front door of the apartment, causing panic to rise inside of you. No, no, no. You wanted to stop her from slipping away and not to cause her to leave.

“No! Jennie, wait!”

You yelled, trying to stop your girlfriend from slipping away. At first you didn’t realize what you had said, but when you saw the expression of utter disbelief on Subin’s face, your jaw dropped in shock.

Shit.

“Jennie? JENNIE?! Y/N you are unbelievable. Of course, this is about her. Like everything in your pathetic life. I was so patient with you, but I’ve had enough. I’m done with you.”

Subin yelled before storming out of the apartment.

Your heart told you to chase after her, but your brain held you back. She was right. This hadn’t been a simple slip of the tongue; no, after all this time, the ghost of Jennie was still following you. Now you knew. She had been the one lurking in the dark of your mind. She had been the one preventing you to enjoy your happiness. You had been lying to yourself and pretended like you were on the road of recovery. What a good liar you were; you had even been able to fool yourself. And now Subin had to pay the price for it.

When did you become the bad guy of this story? Was this how the universe worked? Jennie had scarred your heart and now you walked around scarring others?

You quickly shook your head.

No, Jennie and you were nothing alike. She had trampled all over you without any remorse. You, on the other hand, had never felt worse for anything in your life before. You weren’t perfect, but at least you had tried.

Nevertheless, you envied Jennie right now. She had made being evil seem so easy. But it wasn’t. Everything hurt as you stared at the door that had just swallowed your girlfriend. Your heart, your head, even your body. The guilt was gnawing at you everywhere. God, you just wanted everything to stop. You couldn’t even count the cuts anymore, but you could feel yourself bleeding out. And just for a second, you wanted to breathe again. Your own thoughts were drowning you and you were in desperate need of air. If you could only stop your brain from working.

“I need alcohol...”

You mumbled to yourself before hastily grabbing your purse and bolting out of your apartment.

You knew that getting drunk would be a horrible solution, after all, you had judged Jennie for her destructive coping mechanisms oh too often. But your head was empty aside from the buzzing guilt that was driving you insane. How else were you supposed to erase your sorrows? Determined, you stumbled to the convenience store around the corner and grabbed as many bottles of the cheapest alcohol as you could carry. The cashier looked at you weirdly when you put everything on the counter with loud clattering. But you couldn’t blame her. If you looked as terrible as you were feeling right now, your sight had to be truly horrific.

You couldn’t care less about shallow things like that though. You didn’t even bother to wait for the change before rushing out of the store and putting a bottle to your lips as soon as you stood outside. You emptied the first bottle of Soju in one go and the second one was empty before you even reached your apartment. The bitter taste soon didn’t disgust you anymore, which made it a lot easier to fill your whole couch table with empty bottles. And as the alcohol began spreading in your whole body, the noise in your head finally began to cease.

Finally, some peace and quiet.

Relieved, you leaned back on the couch and closed your eyes.

“I’m not the bad guy, I’m the victim.”

You slurred as you drifted off to sleep.

„I just didn’t come home, because… I had better things to do. “.... “You are nothing but selfish, pathetic and incapable of love.” ..... “Of course, this is about her. Like everything in your pathetic life.”

“NO!”

You jolted awake with a scream after suffering through a nightmare made of your worst memories. Your breath was erratic, and your heart was racing in your chest as your dream had felt much too real. Quickly, you sat up, trying to rid yourself of the last bit of sleep that was stuck in your body. But as soon as you had straightened up, you regretted your action. The whole room was suddenly spinning, causing you to slam your hand on your forehead in order to steady your head.

Great, so the alcohol was still in your system, but your ghosts had picked up the chase again.

“Just let me go!!”

You yelled into the void of the living room in frustration, hoping that the universe would transmit your message to Jennie. But who were you trying to kid? The universe wasn’t on your side, it had never been. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have messed up your relationship just because you were still craving your ex-girlfriend. Maybe you had to take your destiny into your own hands if the universe wasn’t willing to help you.

“Fine, you win.”

You gritted through your teeth before leaping to your feet. Your legs felt like jelly and you needed a second to recollect yourself, but then you weaved to the front door to leave your apartment.

Maybe it was time to face your ghosts instead of running away from them.

---

Something loud ripped Jennie from her sleep and she almost fell out of her bed in shock. She had been too far gone to immediately allocate the origin of the noise, so she sat up in her bed, clutching her blanket in fear. Had someone broken into the apartment? Nervously, Jennie looked around to find some sort of weapon to defend herself, but before she could find anything, the noise sounded again, causing her to yelp before laughing at herself.

“It’s just the door...”

Jennie sighed in relief. Whoever had disturbed her sleep was gladly still outside the apartment and would also stay there. It couldn’t be anyone of sane mind considering the ungodly hour. They would surely go away soon. Reassured, Jennie wanted to lay down again, but the loud knocks quaked her front door once more.

“What the...”

Jennie cursed before angrily yanking up her blanket to jump out of her bed.

Whoever had showed up here unannounced and had dared to wake her was up for a piece of her mind. Fuming in anger, Jennie stormed to the front door and unlocked it angrily.

“Do you know what time-“

She started yelling before even knowing who was standing there, only to fall quiet mid-sentence when she recognized the face.

“Y/N?”

To say that Jennie was confused would have been an understatement. She was completely, utterly dumbfounded to the point that she simply stared at you, not realizing how you suddenly lunged forward and pressed your lips on hers.

At first, you tasted just as sweet as ever and Jennie savored every drop to the fullest, instantly getting lost in the kiss. She had wanted this so much. But then an unpleasant bitter taste coated her tongue and an ugly realization hit her. You were drunk. And you weren’t here because you had been dying of longing like she had. No, you were here because you were intoxicated. You weren’t thinking clearly, otherwise you wouldn’t be standing here. After all, you had suffocated every last bit of hope inside of Jennie on your last visit. Did you really think, I would ever come back to you? Your words were still stuck in her heart like sharp knives, reminding her day and night that she wasn’t good enough for you. You deserved better; you deserved someone like...Subin. Suddenly remembering your relationship, Jennie pushed you away with force. She did not want to be the reason for the failure of your picture-perfect relationship.

“Y/N, stop it!! You’re drunk.”

Jennie exclaimed breathlessly, causing you to huff in annoyance.

“I’m not that drunk.”

You talked back hastily, before trying to attack her lips again. But this time, Jennie was faster and stepped back just in time. Her unexpected reaction, however, caused you to lose balance and you stumbled forwards uncontrolled. It wasn’t Jennie’s intention to hurt you though. Therefore, she quickly spread out her arms to catch you. For a moment, you motionlessly laid in her arms until Jennie could suddenly feel your chest trembling against hers, causing her to push you back. Your face was tear stained now and Jennie automatically reached out to caress your face.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

She asked full of concern and you started to sob even more.

“Why can’t you let me go?”

You choked out and Jennie instantly removed her hands from you.

“I-I’m sorry.”

She stuttered, thinking that she had forced herself on you.

“You’ve ruined everything; you know that?”

You chuckled bitterly without context and Jennie looked to the floor in shame.

“Yes, I know and I’m sorry. But I promise that I will stop. I will not meddle with your life ever again.”

She responded sincerely, even though the thought of never seeing you again felt like a punch in her stomach.

“It’s a little late for that.”

Your voice trembled, seeming to be packed with a variety of emotions. Anger, sadness, disappointment. It was hard to pinpoint your exact emotional state for Jennie, but it still made her feel guilty. Had she really hurt you too much to ever live happily again?

“Don’t say that, Y/N. You have Subin now. She’s a great girl, I’m sure. You can live happily ever after with her.”

Jennie tried to minimize her bad conscious and your pain, but her words seemed to have upset you even more.

“Subin...Things ended with her because of you. So, you owe me this.”

You stated coldly while suddenly taking a step closer to Jennie and grabbing her by her waist again.

In shock, she didn’t swat your hands away, but stared at you instead. Things had ended with Subin because of her? Jennie didn’t know what was happening right now. You hadn’t been seeing Subin when she had seduced you the last time, so why was it her fault that you separated? And since when were you so aggressive? Jennie wasn’t used to seeing this side of you. Usually, it had always been her to take the initiative. Right now, however, you were determined to take things further as you were leaning down again to kiss her. But Jennie had learned her lesson. It had taken her some time, but she was sure now in her decision to stay away from you. Therefore, she laid her hand on your chest and held you back. She did owe you something indeed, but it wasn’t a hookup.

“I don’t know why I’m responsible for your breakup, but you might be right. I’ve done you wrong in so many ways, so I gladly take the blame for this too. I’m a bad person, Y/N, remember? I’m a monster, you’ve said it yourself. But you’re not. You are a good person, the best one that I’ve ever met. So what I owe you is a clean cut. You need to start over again and find a source of happiness. I let you go, Y/N. You’re free.”

Jennie said with a shaky voice while tears started to pool in her eyes.

How could something so right feel so wrong?

Her decision was final though. Therefore, she pushed you back into the hallway and this time, you didn’t put up resistance. You seemed to be in a state of shock. You were completely silent while your face showed no emotions at all.

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

---

Only when the door fell into the locks, you woke up from your trance and jumped in shock. Did Jennie just break things off with you for the second time? The alcohol in your system seemed to have evaporated into thin air and you were feeling more sober than ever. Even if this goodbye didn’t hurt as bad as the first one, it hurt in its own way. After Jennie had broken up with you two years ago, there had still been a part of you that had secretly hoped that you would get back together. But now, Jennie had ripped this part out of your chest as well.

Why was it always you who was left in the end?

This question haunted you all the way back to your apartment and kept you awake all night. But you couldn’t find an answer right away. For weeks, you reminisced about the past. Where had everything gone wrong? What threw you off track? And in the end, you came to a bitter realization. The answer to those questions wasn’t Jennie. Yes, she had broken your heart first, but you couldn’t blame everything that happened afterwards on her. She had had a right to walk out of your life even if her method had been questionable. This should have been reason enough for you to cut your ties with her. But you held on to her. You slept with her the night of the vernissage even though you knew that it would hurt you. You sabotaged your relationship with Subin because after all you had always just wanted Jennie. And instead of taking the blame and acting like an adult, you blamed it all on her. The root of your streak of bad events were your own bad decisions that hurt not only you, but everyone around you as well.

This realization was a hard pill to swallow, but you were tired of living this way. You were tired of hurting people and ending up alone. Therefore, you decided to start over; to break the vicious cycle and let go of your past. But in order to be able to do that, you knew that you had to close this chapter of your life; an act that wasn’t possible yet. There were words that were still unspoken and problems that were still unsolved. With that knowledge breathing down your neck, you would never be able to move on.

You needed to face your demons for real this time.

Therefore, you found yourself pushing through the overcrowded streets of Seoul on a snowy Sunday afternoon on your way to a little café one month after you had ambushed Jennie. People were bumping into you left and right and you were trying to not knock someone over while talking on the phone simultaneously. You needed to push the phone harshly against your ear in order to be able to hear the dial tone, but after a while the person on the other end picked up.

“Jiyong? Hi, it’s me, Y/N.”

You yelled over the loud background noises into the microphone after the voice of your friend had conjured a smile to your face.

“Y/N, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jiyong answered cynically and you grimaced your face when you remembered how long you’ve had ignored him.

“Listen, I’m sorry for being a terrible friend in the past year and I wanted to ask whether you would like to meet up some time in the near future to allow me to make it up to you?”

He laughed on the other end of the line due to your proposition, but he didn’t make an effort trying to deny your statement.

“I’m glad that you came to your senses, I’ve missed you. I’ll send you a text with possible days.”

He chuckled and you sighed relief, glad that he didn’t seem to hold any grudges.

“Thank you, Jiyong. See you soon!”

You replied before ending the phone call as you were standing in front of the café, seeing that the person that you were supposed to meet was already there. The view caused you to gulp nervously and you quickly fixed your clothes before entering the café on shaky legs. Why did apologizing need to be so hard? Your ex-girlfriend noticed you right away and you forced a smile on your lips as you made your way to her table.

“Hey, Subin. Thank you for coming.”

You bowed lightly once you were standing in front of her, not knowing whether she would allow you to hug her yet.

“No problem. You wanted to talk?”

She cut straight to the point and you nodded hastily while sitting down.

“Yes, I wanted to apologize. I can’t even express how sorry I am for everything that has happened. Mostly, I’m sorry for pretending that I was ready for a relationship, even though I wasn’t. I never should have pulled you into this mess and wasted your time. I’m really truly sorry.”

You started your apology before waiting for Subin’s reaction.

“Wow, I didn’t expect to hear those words. But thank you for saying that.”

A light smile flashed over your ex-girlfriend’s lips and you interpreted this as your permission to continue talking.

For almost an hour, the two of you spoke out on your relationship and ended up somewhere close to a reconciliation. Of course, Subin still held grudges against you for leading her on, but she appreciated your admission of guilt.

“Thank you for asking me to come Y/N. I feel like we both needed some closure.”

Subin stated once you had both emptied your coffee cups and you agreed with her wholeheartedly. You hadn’t faced all your demons yet. In fact, your biggest ones were still on the run, but you could already feel a slight weight being lifted off your shoulders.

“Thank you for allowing both of us to get closure.”

You replied while Subin got up from her chair to leave.

“I guess this is goodbye then.”

Her words sounded bittersweet. Even if you weren’t meant to be as a couple, you had still loved her. But it wouldn’t be fair to her to remain in her life after what you had done. Therefore, you nodded your head before opening your arms to ask her for a hug one last time. Subin hesitated for a second, but eventually decided to close the distance between the two of you to let herself be pulled into your arms.

“Goodbye, Subin.”

You whispered into her arms and she squeezed your body tightly.

When she stepped away, both of you were teary-eyed, but you were smiling. This was a much more worthy ending to your relationship than the one before and you watched Subin disappearing through the door with a lot less heartache.

One chapter closed, another one left to go.

With a wistful sigh, you plopped back down on your chair, knowing that the next conversation would be a lot harder for you. Maybe it had been a bad idea to meet up with both of your ex-girlfriends on the same day, but you hadn’t wanted to torture yourself with more waiting time. 5 more minutes. You had 5 more minutes to brace yourself before you probably had to do the hardest thing in your life. For once, you wished that time would pass by slower, but in a blink, you could already see a beautiful figure scurrying past the large windows of the café before the door opened a second later. There she was.

Jennie.

Your breath hitched in your throat when your eyes met and both of you froze. That was off to a good start, you thought to yourself. Only when someone else wanted to enter the café as well and nudged Jennie, she finally snapped out of her paralysis and apologized sheepishly before walking over to you.

“Hey.”

Jennie’s voice was barely above a whisper and you could see that she was even more nervous than you.

“Hi.”

You smiled while waving awkwardly because you didn’t know what to do with your hands.

Once more the two of you just stood across from each other without saying a word until you couldn’t stand the tension anymore and cleared your throat.

“Let’s sit down.”

You pointed to the chairs and Jennie instantly followed your demand. Then, however, silence settled between the two of you again and you stared at your empty coffee mug in front of you. How were you supposed to start? There had only been a few unspoken words between Subin and you, but with Jennie it felt like you were stuck somewhere in the middle of an unfinished book. Minutes passed and neither of you spoke a single word until you decided that it would be best to start with the main reason for your meetup: an apology.

“I’m sorry.”

You blurted out the same moment that Jennie decided to utter the exact same words. Surprised, you stared at each other before both of you started laughing.

“Well, it seems like we’re here for the same thing.”

You chuckled and Jennie nodded in agreement.

“I guess it’s clear to see that a lot of things went wrong in the past.”

She replied, causing you to sigh. How very true...

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak first.”

Pleadingly, you looked at Jennie and she gestured you to continue.

“First of all, I’d like to apologize for what happened after the dinner at Jiyong’s.”

Your voice cracked as the memories came flooding back together with your bad conscious.

“It was wrong of me to take revenge. I was just so hurt after the vernissage and it drove me insane to know that I was the only one in pain. But I shouldn’t have accused you of all the things that I did. Which is also the second thing, I’d like to apologize for. It’s not your fault that Subin and I broke up. You’re not a bad person, Jennie. Many things went wrong in our past, but they weren’t all completely up to you.”

You exhaled in relief, because you felt a lot better already now that those words were off your chest. Once you looked at Jennie, however, you became serious again. Tears were glistening in her eyes and you had to fight the urge to reach across the table to grab her hand.

“Oh, Y/N, you are too pure for this world. I am a bad person.”

Jennie replied, causing a stinging pain to shoot through your chest. Why couldn’t she see herself the way that you did?

“Please stop saying that. Don’t let all those people throw you off track. I know that you might make questionable decisions every now and then, but that doesn’t make you a bad person.”

You tried to cheer her up, but Jennie immediately shook her head.

“No, I am, and you’ll agree with me once I tell you what I came here for. Now it’s my turn to speak.”

She cleared her throat and you straightened up in your chair, bracing yourself for whatever was to come.

“I’ve lied to you. I didn’t break up with you, because I fell out of love. I broke up with you because Hyunsuk told me to. He said that he would terminate my contract if I would keep dating you and I chose my career like the coward I am.”

By now, tears of anger were rolling down Jennie’s cheeks, but this time you didn’t have the urge to reach out to her. Instead, you were wordlessly and motionlessly sitting in front of her, trying to process her words.

“W-what?”

You stuttered in disbelief while feeling how your own tears threatened to spill from your eyes now.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I know that you will probably hate me even more now and I won’t ask for your forgiveness. But I thought you had a right to now.”

Jennie sobbed and you clenched your fists in anger.

“Hyunsuk forced you to break up?”

You gritted through your teeth, feeling how all your old anger due to the breakup was stirred up again. Only that it wasn’t aimed at Jennie this time.

“No, Y/N, that’s not what I’m saying. Hyunsuk gave me a choice, but I decided against you.”

Jennie tried to defend her manager, but her words bounced off the wall of hatred that you had built around you.

“He knew that you wouldn’t be able to decide against your career! He knew what you have been through to get there! This had never been a choice.”

You huffed, causing Jennie to defend the gruesome CEO again, but you didn’t hear a single word that she was saying.

This confession suddenly changed everything.

Your thoughts began to race in your head as you had to rewrite the past two years. Had Jennie been wanting you too all along? Had that been the reason for your hookup? Had that been the reason for her to get drunk at the dinner party? Questions over questions caused you to drift off until your brain seemed to have caught flames. This little detail had really caused a domino effect in your head. All your memories had to be seen in a different light now, but you didn’t really know what to do with that information. After all, the past couldn’t be undone. Nevertheless, you got caught up in unrealistic scenarios as tears of sorrow streamed down your cheeks until a sensation on your hand ripped you from your train of thought. Jennie was looking at you with teary eyes while stroking your hand gently.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

You choked out and Jennie sighed sadly.

“Because I was scared that you would ask me to stay. I thought it would be better for the both of us if we had a clean cut. But unfortunately, that didn’t go as planned...”

She replied, the regret in her voice being clearly audible.

“I really wish that you would have told me...”

You didn’t want to rub salt into her wounds, but you didn’t want there to be any secrets between the two of you anymore.

“Would it have changed anything?”

Jennie looked at you curiously, making your heart ache.

“It would have changed everything.”

You answered honestly, knowing that you would probably still be by Jennie’s side if she had made a different decision. Your words made her fall silent and she slouched her shoulders as if the guilt that was resting on them was too heavy for her to carry.

“How could we have made so many bad decisions?”

You asked tiredly, thinking about how both of you had tampered with your happiness. Where would you be now if Jennie had been honest from the start, if you hadn’t given in to her at the vernissage or if you hadn’t started dating Subin although you were still pining after Jennie?

“I don’t know. But in hindsight, I would have done a lot of things different.”

Jennie’s and your eyes met, and you could see the sincerity in them. A rush of regret caused your heart to sink and you looked away to stop yourself from crying.

“I guess it’s true what they say. Sometimes you meet the right people at the wrong time.”

You exhaled shakily while trying to fight the intense feeling of disappointment in the pit of your stomach.

“Are you saying that I’m right for you?”

Jennie suddenly asked, causing you to look at her again. Tears were still glistening in her eyes but there was also a spark of amusement reflecting in them now.

“Way to only hear what you want to hear, Jennie.”

You chuckled and Jennie smirked.

“I’ve decided that I should focus on the positive of life from now on.”

Her statement made you laugh, and you were glad that she was trying to lift your mood. It hadn’t been your intention to leave even more depressed today than before.

“You are unbelievable.”

You shook your head amused and Jennie grinned proudly as if you had just complimented her.

Both of you fell quite after your little banter, each seeming to think about the conversation that you had just had. You had come here to close this chapter with Jennie, but somehow it didn’t feel like you had moved closer to the end of your story. In fact, it still seemed like you were stuck somewhere in the middle of an unfinished book and suddenly, Jennie didn’t necessarily have to be cropped out of the pictures that you had of your future in your head. And apparently you weren’t the only one who felt that way.

“Do you think the time will ever be right?”

Jennie eventually piped up, managing to light a spark of hope within you. What if this had just been a bad chapter in this book that had so much more to offer?

“I hope so.”

You smiled, causing Jennie’s face to light up.

“Then I’ll wait.”

She announced confidently and you wanted to tell her not to get her hopes too high, but she spoke first.

“Just a little longer.”

---

6 months later

“Do you think Jiyong will recognize me?”

Tami asked nervously beside you while tugging on your arm and you laughed to yourself. A lot had changed since the last vernissage, but your friend still seemed to be the same.

“I’m sure you left a lasting impression.”

You chuckled, causing Tami to grin proudly although you hadn’t necessarily meant your statement in a positive way.

Just like the last time, however, you couldn’t care less about Tami’s antics. Once more, your thoughts were consumed by one specific person that would probably be attending the vernissage and your feelings were going haywire again. This time you weren’t dying of nervousness and fear though. Instead, you were feeling excitement and a certain curiosity. If you were honest, you were actually looking forward to seeing Jennie again. How was she doing? Had she missed you? After your last encounter at the café, you had decided to give each other time. Both of you had wounds that needed to heal. Nevertheless, it was also obvious that neither of you had ever gotten over your relationship. Therefore, you had decided that if your paths would ever cross again and if the timing felt right, you wouldn’t stand in the way of your happiness again.

And today could be that day.

For the past six months, you had had time to heal as the universe didn’t let you run into Jennie. But today you were attending another one of Jiyong’s vernissages and you were sure that she would be there too. So, you had put on your prettiest outfit, grabbed Tami for moral support and were now on your way to a fancy art gallery downtown.

“I hope they serve those salmon rolls again.”

Tami gushed next to you and you shook your head in amusement. Maybe you should learn how to view life as simplistic as she did.

You had to bear her babbling fifteen more minutes until you finally reached the venue and Tami shut up in awe when she saw the extensive cordon of the area around the gallery. This time the event seemed to be even more hyped than the last time wherefore the paparazzi was prowling the streets everywhere.

“Are you sure we’re invited?”

Tami gulped insecurely while scanning all those people and you chuckled.

“Of course, Jiyong is probably only waiting for you.”

You replied mockingly and Tami punched your arm, causing you to yelp.

Chipperly, the two of you cut the huge line of people in front of the entrance and walked straight to the bouncer who seemed to be a lot more approachable than last time. Without objections, he let you into the gallery after seeing your invite, making you wonder whether that was a good omen. Maybe the last vernissage had just been cursed from the start. Standing inside of the building, you let your gaze wander. The exhibition seemed to be a lot more high-class this time. There was no loud music playing and the outfits of the guests were more sophisticated. If you weren’t so distracted, you would probably be ashamed in your rather cheap jumpsuit, but gladly, your mind was set to something else. Your gaze swept the whole room in search for Jennie, but except for some celebrities, no guest was familiar to you.

“She’s not here yet.”

Jiyong’s voice triggered a feeling of déjà vu within you and you turned around sheepishly.

“Hey, Jiyong.”

You grinned before pulling him into a hug. That man really had to stop reading your mind.

“Should I be worried about Jennie and you?”

He asked when he pulled back, but you instantly shook your head. Something was telling you that tonight wouldn’t be as disastrous as your last encounters.

“No, I’m doing better now.”

You smiled and Jiyong looked at you skeptically. Before he could interrogate you further though, Tami suddenly stepped in front of you and held out her hand to him.

“Hi, Jiyong. I’m Tami, we’ve met at the last vernissage. You might remember me, I was wearing this beautiful golden, glittery dress.”

She grinned widely and for once, you were grateful for her embarrassing behavior. Helplessly, Jiyong looked at you to save him, but you only winked at him before disappearing in the crowd of people behind you. You weren’t really in the mood to deal with your two friends today; there were more important things to do.

Leaving Tami and Jiyong behind, you proceeded towards the bar at the other end of the gallery where you sat down and ordered yourself a drink to calm your nerves that were slowly starting to act up. What if Jennie had realized in the past six months that she could live without you? Nervously, you tapped your fingers on the counter while sipping on your drink and thinking of every possible worst-case scenario in your head until a voice directly next to your ear caused you to jump in your seat.

“Hello stranger.”

The familiar voice caused shivers to run down your spine and you turned around with a smile tugging on your lips.

“Hey Jennie.”

You sounded a lot more yearning than you wanted to and you cringed because of your own inability to play it cool. But Jennie didn’t seem to be interested in taking advantage of your awkwardness today. Instead, she took a seat beside you while not taking her eyes off you for a single second, causing a blush to start spreading in your cheeks.

“Will you seduce me again?”

You chuckled nervously to break the intensity of the moment, but your question seemed to have struck a nerve of Jennie.

“I’m sorry.”

Quickly, she averted her gaze and you reached out to pat her thigh apologetically.

“I was just joking, Jennie. I’m not angry anymore, I know now why you did a lot of things that you did.”

You smiled, causing her to hesitantly look at you again. When she saw your friendly expression, she sighed in relief and it seemed like a lot of tension had left her body.

“Can I be honest with you?”

Jennie asked and you nodded curiously.

“I beg for it.”

You replied, not knowing what confession you had to expect.

“I just came here because of you tonight.”

A light blush accompanied Jennie’s sheepish statement and you instantly felt how your heart started to flutter in your chest.

“Jiyong’s art kind of sucks, doesn’t it?”

You giggled after making sure that your friend wasn’t hiding somewhere near you again.

“It does!! Thank god that I’m not the only one who doesn’t like it!”

Jennie whisper-yelled, causing both of you to laugh.

This was the first time in forever that the two of you finally had a lighthearted conversation again and you couldn’t even express in words how much you had missed that. Fondly, you observed how Jennie hid her face behind her hand as she laughed, and a rush of confidence overcame you. You had waited six months for this moment; why should you waste it in this overcrowded, loud gallery?

“Do you want to get out of here?”

You asked, catching Jennie off guard. Her smile faltered abruptly and she looked at you anxiously. You knew her well enough to know what was going on in her head right now. The two of you had a history of rushing things and she was probably scared of overstepping her boundaries again. But this time, you weren’t afraid that you were moving too fast. For once, you felt like the two of you had made only right decision that had ultimately led you here. Therefore, you smiled at Jennie encouragingly, causing her to nod after hesitating a little longer.

“Follow me in five minutes. Let’s meet in front of the coffee shop a little down the road.”

She stated and you knew that you had to be careful with the paparazzi if you didn’t want to cause a scandal right away. Without objections, you followed Jennie’s demand and made your way to the exit of the gallery five minutes after she had disappeared. While you squeezed your way through the crowd, you could see that Tami and Jiyong were still talking near the entrance and you smiled to yourself. It seemed like both of them were in good hands.

When you stepped outside of the building, a few flashes blinded your eyes, but after the paparazzi realized that you were just a normal person, they instantly put their cameras down in disappointment and let you pass. Sometimes it definitely had its perks to be boring. In anticipation, you instantly made your way down the road to your meeting point with Jennie while having to stop yourself several times from running. The night hadn’t even started yet, but you could already tell that it was about to be amazing. Nevertheless, you were starting to feel a little anxious as you were passing one coffee shop after the other and Jennie was nowhere to be seen. Had she stood you up? But eventually, you could see a petite figure standing a few yards in front of you and you instantly picked up your pace.

“Hello stranger.”

You mimicked Jennie’s greeting from before, causing her to flinch in surprise at first before smiling at you widely.

“Shall we take a walk?”

You suggested and she nodded happily in reply.

“So tell me, what have you been up to in the past...2 years?”

Jennie asked as the two of you began strolling through the streets, causing you to chuckle. There was really a lot that you had to catch up on...

Together, you just let your feet carry you wherever while talking about random things that had happened since your breakup until you couldn’t feel several parts of your body anymore due to the cold winter air. You didn’t want to admit that though, because you were scared that it would mean that you had to part ways. Therefore, you kept enduring the cold until you noticed to your delight that it wasn’t far to your apartment anymore wherefore you automatically started walking there. Jennie was just in the middle of telling you how she accidentally bought Kuma a 500$ sweater when you arrived at your destination and you abruptly came to a halt. Confused, Jennie looked at you and you pointed at your apartment complex.

“That’s where I live.”

You said and Jennie looked at the building with disappointment reflecting in her eyes.

“Oh, yeah I guess I’ve bored you long enough. You should probably get going and get some rest.”

She forced a smile to her lips, but you could clearly see that she was just as unwilling to say goodbye as you were. Therefore, you gathered all your courage and took a step closer to her.

“D-do you want to come upstairs?”

You asked a little nervous, remembering what had happened the last time that the two of you were alone in a private setting.

“No, no. I-I don’t want to impose myself on you.”

Jennie was apparently feeling the same way and slightly backed away from you. But you reached out and gently grabbed her wrist.

“It’s alright, Jennie. This is not like the last times. I just don’t want to stop talking yet.”

You explained softly and Jennie’s gaze darted back and forth between you and your apartment complex. She was clearly struggling to make the right decision, but eventually she nodded her head and let you pull her towards the entrance. The familiarity of that situation caused your stomach to tingle, but you were keen not to make any bad decisions this time. The two of you couldn’t let yourselves be guided by your desires and emotions again. This time, you had to be more cautious and rational.

Therefore, you let go off Jennie’s hand as soon as you stepped into your apartment and asked her to take a seat on the couch in the living room.

“Tea?”

You asked, thinking that a hot beverage could maybe calm both of your nerves.

Gratefully, Jennie accepted your offer and you disappeared in the kitchen to boil some water. While you waited next to the stove, you had some time to reflect on the evening and you automatically started smiling. You had really missed having Jennie in your life. It seemed like all the energy that you had been lacking in the past two years was slowly returning and you could finally breathe again.

With a smile on your lips and two cups of tea in your hands, you eventually returned to the living room where Jennie was waiting for you. Your heart immediately started to swell when you saw her sitting on the couch and you thought how natural it looked to see her there. She fitted right into your apartment like she was always supposed to be here.

“So did you keep the sweater for Kuma?”

You asked, referring to the conversation that you had before you came to your apartment, while putting the mug down in front of Jennie.

“Would you kill me if I said yes?”

She chuckled while playing with her hair sheepishly, causing you to laugh.

“I can’t believe you spent that much money on a dog.”

You replied and she gasped offended.

“He’s my son!”

In an instant, the awkwardness from before had evaporated into thin air and the two of you easily fell back into a lighthearted conversation. Time was suddenly an irrelevant aspect as every minute only felt like a second. Both of you seemed to have the urge to make up for all the lost time of the past years and you talked for hours until you were too tired to keep your eyes open. After a certain time, your conversation was repeatedly interrupted by little pauses when both of you nodded off momentarily until both of you were probably more asleep than awake.

“I should probably go now.”

Jennie mumbled eventually and you only hummed in response because you were too exhausted to open your mouth. Silence enwrapped the two of you and soon the only thing that was audible in the room was the sound of your steady breathing.

It was so much easier to fall asleep without worries.

It felt like it had been the first time in two years that you had been able to sleep, and you only woke up the next morning when a garbage truck made incredible noise in front of your apartment. You jolted awake in shock, but instantly halted your movements when you noticed a pair of arms around your waist. Confused, you took in your surroundings until the memories of last night came rushing back, causing your heart to pick up the pace. In slow-motion, you turned around and automatically started smiling when you ended up face to face with Jennie who looked at you with sleepy eyes.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

You whispered, causing Jennie to nuzzle her head into the crook of your neck.

“Good morning.”

She mumbled against your body and you couldn’t fight the urge to press a kiss on the crown of her head. If this was just a dream, you hoped that you would never wake up.

With a wide grin on her face, Jennie looked at you, making you decide in that moment that you wouldn’t allow anyone to take her away from you ever again. No matter if the whole world would disagree with you, but you knew that this was meant to be. Why else had it felt so wrong to be apart from her? Maybe the two of you had to work on some things first, but in the long run, you knew that you weren’t supposed to wake up next to anyone else for the rest of your life.

“I’m going to make us some breakfast.”

You smiled happily before leaping to your feet. But you couldn’t go any further than that because a weight around your waist held you back. Confused, you turned around to see that Jennie had wrapper her arms around you and looked at you with a pout on her lips.

“Nooo! Stay with me a little longer, please.”

She whined cutely and you threw your head back in laughter. Who were you to disagree with her? Without putting up a fight, you fell back on the couch and curled up in Jennie’s arms again.

Okay.

Just a little longer.

#jennie scenario #jennie #blackpink scenario #blackpink #jennie imagine #blackpink imagine #idolxreader #girl group scenario #girl group #kpop scenario #kpop #girl group imagine #kim jennie #jennie fluff

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krabmeat · 3 years

Text

𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜: Wilbur Soot

𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜: he/him

𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: physical pain descriptions, paranoia, overdose, hospitalization, alarms, descriptions of hallucinations

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎:

this is the 2nd part to my 7 part series of making all of the songs from YCGMA into short stories! this one is for saline solution, hope ya like it! :]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One, two, three and four

The seconds tick by on the clock in my workroom. The sound sensitive LED border of the clock lights up whenever I cough. I find it hard to breathe, the wheezes between breaths are loud, so I take a puff of my inhaler sitting on my desk next to my pc. It’s been difficult to walk lately, I’ve made a steady recovery but my legs sometimes feel like the pores are being replaced with lead- heavy and cold. Despite this though, I make my way over to my bedroom. My roommate isn’t home yet, despite how late it is. The walls of the hallway echo my footsteps, the pain I’m in not reflecting with the sounds. ‘I need to take my meds…’ My room, surprisingly not as messy as I thought. Clothes here and there, an undone bed, but overall everything is where it should be. My legs shuffle into the bathroom connected to my room, locating my paracetamol and prozac. Click, click!

I think this time I'm dying

I open the paracetamol with ease, it hypnotizes me. Quickly opening the prozac, my breath becomes jagged- confused. Water flows after the pills, hindering the struggle it would have been, but I feel the same. Panicked and afraid. What's wrong with me? Do I need more? Is there something else? I'm scared, pissed off and lonely- ‘I'm overthinking this.’ But am I? Nonetheless, nothings happening. My legs still feel like hell, and the cold invisible hand is pinching the skin behind my neck, but when I claw at it nothings there. My eyes distantly shift to the pill bottles on the counter. I can feel myself trying to look elsewhere, but my general focus is on the pills. I need more.

I'm not melodramatic

Just 1 more of each should do. Just to be safe. I'm just being safe!

I'm just pragmatic beyond any reasoning

Better safe than sorry, right? I take another drink of water and wait for the relief to set in, but it never does. My legs are aching even more and the fact that there's no effects is just making me panic more. What's wrong with me? Why isn't it setting in fast enough-?!

For thinking I've got f*cking rabies or something.

More. I need more. Maybe that's the problem, I'm just not taking a high enough dosage! I look down at each of the bottles, reading the label for the prescription. “Take 2 per day when symptoms arise. Contact your psychiatrist if a higher dosage is needed” ‘I know what I'm doing.’ There's something wrong with me, I can't bother contacting anyone. I need relief now. Out of impulse, I down both of the bottles and drink more water to allow the pills to travel with ease. Then, I just wait.

I think this time I'm dying

Pain shoots up from my stomach and sprouts to my head like a sapling. The room morphs and shifts and scrunches up like clay. Am I in a dream? I look down at my hands to pinch myself, shaking, blurry and full of vibrant colors.

I think this time I'm dying.

F*ck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I think I've lost my mind.

The world morphs and moves without my eyes permission. My stomach hurts more than my legs do. The reflection in the mirror, a pale, sad and confused blur. The pain isn't going away, it's growing worse and worse. Pins and needles pricking and scraping along the inside of my abdomen, there's millions of them. Every deep breath I take is a dulled stab into my chest. Was the original concern as big as I've made it now?

Blurring the fact and the fictions

Everything is so unreal. Why did I do this again? Where am I? My memory becomes a flickering bulb, dying out from being strained of its power. My concept of time and object permanence is foggy, but that's how I know something is wrong. But what? Am I blowing things out of proportion or is this bigger than a prescription?

While simultaneously fixing myself up with a girl named panadol.

I looked down at the empty paracetamol bottle, I did the right thing- right? My intentions feel like they've been beaten and whipped with a fork, scrambled and confused with each other. But I did what I did, it still hurts though. A pang of regret stabs at my throat for a second, but the desire for relief overrides it.

Bite the tablet, elixir

The elixir! My hands swiftly open the cabinet again, desperate for elixir. I quickly find, it- half a bottle of elixir should do. As quickly as I found the bottle, I downed half of it and quickly drank more freezing cold water from the sink.

Disintegrate, mouths a mixer

That's 3 different types of pills. 3 different remedies! I'll be alright now, right? I should be, but I can't stand steadily anymore. My arms are violently shaking and my legs are about to drop. The sight is horrifying, everything is flickering from absolute darkness to furniture and walls melting like an ice cube. Am I blinking? I can't tell.

I think I've lost my mind

I can't handle this. Am I in mild pain or are things dire? I want the pain I had before, less overwhelming. I have no control anymore. The front door opening and closing shut was barely audible for my ears. “Wil? Sorry I came home so late, I had a client come further into the day.” My legs give in, and a loud THUMP rumbles through the house as I fall onto the tiled floor of the bathroom. I feel the satisfaction of my eyes rolling into my head as my eyelids stay confused on whether or not to close or to stick open to stay alert. “Wil?! Wilbur are you alright?!” Her footsteps rush to my room and into the bathroom to see my frail and hurt body on the ground with the pill bottles strewn on the counter.

I think I've lost my mind.

“WILBUR!!” She rushes to my side and drops to her knees. Her shout was so loud, it made me snap back into the present. After checking my pulse and checking if I'm still breathing, she frantically digs through her coat pocket and dials 999.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If I could just break one more night

I can hear my roommate crying distantly after hanging up and putting away her phone. I don't understand...why do I need an ambulance? I was helping myself, wasn't I?

Maybe I could wake up and feel alright.

I could have gotten past on my own if she hadn't found me. I would have been just fine. I'm tired, just in general.

I optimistically set my alarm clock time

I had something to do today? I forgot. I can hear my alarm clock from my bedside table blaring at me, screaming at me to get up. There was a subtle jolt of excitement that shot up my neck, or was it anxiety? Fear? Adrenaline? Denial?

Serves only to mock me with flashing lights.

The sound seems to go on for longer, despite my roommate rushing to turn it off. Its turned off, but I can still hear the sound of it echoing through the room, bouncing into my ears. My hands raise to cover my ears, but the sound just gets louder and louder. I haven't gotten up yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I think I've made my choice

Everything is jumping around slightly, the paramedics in the ambulance looming over me, reaching for tubes and clear pouches. I feel something warm on my right hand, my roommate is sitting there with my hand in hers while trying to keep herself together. “Don’t worry Wil, they're gonna fix you up and you'll be just fine...!” She says it like she’s trying to reassure herself more than me- she's more worried about me then I am for myself. One of the paramedics sitting next to her speak up with a clipboard in hand. “You said he overdosed?” “Yes, I came home from work and there was a loud thud from his bathroom. I ran over and he was barely conscious on the floor with pill bottles all around…”

I’m a deceased playing victim

I...I overdosed? How did I not notice? No no, there was something wrong with me, that's why I took so many! But...was I wrong? I was just scared! I didn’t know that this would happen, its not my fault!

Slip the face, slip the victory.

I can't run away from myself, I’m my own shadow. I was scared. I am scared. This is all my fault. I took the pills, no one forced me to. It was me who did this. But, I’m not too angry with myself. Despite my impulsive actions, I don't hate the situation I've thrown myself into.

I think I’ve made my choice

If I don't make it out of this, I won't be disappointed. If I do, then that's alright too. I dug myself into this, so don't I deserve to suffer the consequences?

Sit secluded in hatred

I’m such a bother to her, this is the second time she's had to deal with me like this. The hospital probably hates me, but I won't bother to apologize. I meant what I did both this and the last time I was sent there, they shouldn't be helping me. But I’m not suicidal, I insist.

Void the plans friends are making.

I shouldn't have set my alarm. I would have stayed asleep, made things less stressful. Why did I even set my alarm? Nothing special was happening today, I don't have plans with anyone and the only thing I was supposed to do today is work, and that's later in the day. Most of my friends don't even like me that much, they don't invite me to places or acknowledge me so can I even consider them friends? The only person who even tries to pay attention to me is…is…

I think I've found my voice

“I...I’m..-” My roommate quickly looks down at me when she hears me speak. Her eyes show it all, shocked and relieved. Her skin is still puffy and red around her eyes, but she doesn't bother to hide it. “Thank the lord your alright...what were you thinking?!” She speaks in a hushed tone, intending to not startle or overwhelm me more than I already am. She doesn't deserve this, my paranoia and issues aren't hers. “I’m...I’m sorry..” I hear my voice for the first time in a while, it's gravely and dry. She looks down at me and her features seem to have softened. “We're almost at the hospital, you're gonna be alright.”

I'm a leech sucking blood bags

I've been living off of her this entire time. My hardships were always nonexistent, weren't they? All of my tolls were never mine to begin with, her generosity is what she replaced it with. And this is what I'm giving her, more and more to deal with. But she doesn't have to, right? It's her choice, it's her fault. I'm not guilty.

Taste defeat, it's a sandbag

As soon as the vehicle stopped, I was urgently rolled out the back and rushed into a hospital room. I can hear the doctors and nurses arguing back and forth rapidly, one after the other.

Saline solution

I hear from the wad of voices. Hm, so they're desperate as well it seems… My mind decides not to bother with their procedures, instead I just leave it all to them. It won't be on my hands if they fail after all, right?

Saline solutions to all your

A set of doctors rush into my hospital room while a nurse rolls in a cart filled with who knows what for me. IV tubes are hooked up to a hanging pouch and attached to my arms.

Saline solution to all your

My eyes are squinted from the obnoxiously bright lights scattered in the hospital, the white walls making me develop more of a headache. My head flops to the left, seeing my roommate outside the window in the hallway. She's pacing around frantically with her phone up to her ear. I then turn my head to the right to see a slightly foggy pouch of saline hanging above me, the IV tubes connecting the liquid to my internal damage.

Saline solution to all your…

One of the doctors helps me drink a small amount of the saline solution and then hands me a small trash can. My stomach is crying and screaming in pain and mercy. Tears prick the corners of my eyes from the guttural pain, but it'll be out of my system soon.

Problems.

#wilbur soot #ycgma #saline solution #angst #series #writing #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot fanfic #mcyt fic #mcyt fanfic #mcyt fanfiction #dsmp fic #dsmp fanfic #dsmp fanfiction

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vegetacide · 4 years

Text

Sleepless

Veg●notable: So... this popped into my head.. wrote it.. and here we are.

Any mistakes are purely my own...

Characters: Kayo/Virgil, Jeff Tracy

General warning: Just a little gropey

Word count: 4541 words

Time: Middle of the night. Crack past when regular people would be sleeping

Location: Lounge balcony, Island

Summary: Someone is having a hard time sleeping.. stuff happens. Embarrassment ensues.

Enjoy!

o0o

Virgil sat upright with a jolt, the feeling of foreboding and dread chasing him into the land of wakefulness. Breath heaving, heart pounding a rapid staccato in his chest, he scrambled up his rumpled bed until his back found the headboard and kicked his legs free of the tangle of linens.

Croaking out a command, the shadowy remnants of the nightmare which had been plaguing his slumber vanished as the soft, pre-programmed lighting illuminated the quiet space of his room. Reassuring him that he wasn’t actually hanging from a mountain a mere finger’s width away from a trapped climber..

Cursing softly to himself, he racked a hand through his sleep tousled hair and swung his legs over the side of the bed resisting the urge to shiver as the temperature controlled air breezed over his sweat soaked back.

Slouching he braced his elbows on his knees and rubbed the exhausted fog from his eyes. The dream had felt so real, the blistering cold, the blinding wind, the burning chill in his chest as he desperately tried to stretch those last few centimetres.

He’d been so very close yet not close enough. The climber’s pleading voice, hoarse from screaming grew quiet and an odd calm of realization had settled over the indistinguishable features of their face. A dark truth had been registered, that salvation was not in the cards for them.

In that instant Virgil had recognized the climber’s sudden intent and throwing all caution to the bitter mountain wind, he’d lunged. His thighs coiling then thrusting him out and away from the purchase of the ledge he’d been dangling from and just as he started to free fall, the climber let go…

He stared down at his hand and frowned at the slight tremble in them. Clenching them a few times and dispelling the dull phantom ache he felt from the situation that had been conjured from the depths of his own subconscious.

Catching the dim, blue numerals of the digital display on his night stand, Virgil exhaled wearily and with a grunt of effort pushed to his feet. A couple hours of sleep was better than no sleep at all but after three straight days of this, the lack of a full eight was starting to wear on him.

His brothers always razzed on him for his late morning sleeping habits and it looked like it was going to be no different once the sun decided to crest the horizon. Little did they know though that his penchant for daytime slumber was more out of a dire need than laziness on his part.

He’d suffered the insomniatic spurts for a large part of his adult life. Some due to traversing multiple time zones on a regular and completely throwing off his natural circadian rhythm and other from an over-active mind that just ceased to shut off at a reasonable time.

He’d tried various sleep aids over the years, from the medicinal variety to the drinkable kind with a percentage stamped on the side of the bottle but neither of them were long-term solutions. Both had side effects that were detrimental to his chosen career path. Hard to concentrate on a rescue in a drug induced fog or function effectively with a hangover. He knew that from experiences and both were definitely something he didn’t want to try or risk again with lives on the line.

So letting the brotherly teasing just roll off him was his preferred dénouement. As for the twilight hours from dusk till dawn? He filled those lonely hours with copious midnight sessions in the island gym, or with twilight maintenance work on his ‘Bird. The latter had been done so frequently that he could reassemble Two’s VTOL thruster assembly blindfolded, one hand tied behind his back and with a set of nail clippers as his only tool…. On the rare occasion when the exhaustion wasn’t too intolerable, he’d even break out his art supplies. Usually though his creative muse would be out cold in a corner somewhere so his productivity on those nights was severely lacking and whatever he managed to produce was subpar at best.

No one ever saw those works of so-called “art”. They were tucked away in the far back corner of his art studio saved from the trash for some reason he was unable to wrap his head around despite the fact that he loathed them for their complete ineptitude.

Crap results or not, it served its purpose of distracting his mind from whatever it was that was preventing him from dreamland and he found that on more than one occasion he managed to just stumble off to bed again before the rest of the house had roused to start their day. Hiding the fact that sleep had been evading him and effectively staving off both the worry wart that was Scott and matriarchal commandeering presence of his Grandmother.

Though these days, he had the added pressure of dealing with the wandering presence of his father as well. Who seemed to ghost around the house at night as much as he did. Virgil suspected that his father was still adjusting to being Earth side and except for one instance had managed to avoid him.

Jeff Tracy’s sleep patterns were erratic at best but that was to be expected after his survival ordeal in the Oort cloud. Virgil knew from a medical standpoint that given time his father would eventually adjust but in the meantime, he would have to play a one sided version of cat and mouse with the man just so he didn’t set his father’s somewhat questionable mental stability for a spin. He had enough on his plate to deal with already, he didn’t need the added weight of his second oldest son’s problems on top of it.

Giving his head a shake at the direction of his thoughts, Virgil made his way over to his closet. If he let his mind drift in that way for too long he would find himself down a rabbit hole he would have a hard time finding his way out of. At the moment he didn’t have the mental stamina or the wherewithal for it either.

Reaching blindly into the dark depths of his closet Virgil rummaged around until his fingers came across the soft cotton of a well loved pair of track pants. Slipping the loose folds of worn fabric over his legs he contemplated his options for the rest of the night and just couldn’t drum up the energy to make a decision.

Catching a glimpse at his bed out of the corner of his eye he knew that staying in his room wasn’t on the table. Turning, Virgil made his way quietly on bare feet out the door and towards the stairs. Maybe something good would be on late night TV but knowing his luck as of late it was unlikely. At this point though it was better than coming up with an alternative. He’d already gone over Two with a fine toothed comb and his muscles were still recuperating from the previous nights work out. Last thing he wanted to do was to end up with a work out related injury. He was already pushing safety parameters on call outs as it was and a sprain or strain was going to have him benched for sure

---

Ten minutes of channel surfing was all it took before Virgil hit the fed up phase of his evening. Abso-fucking nothing on TV. Nothing at least that could keep his attention. Tossing the remote somewhere to his left, he shoved up to his feet, grabbed his glass off the low table and headed out on to the balcony to watch the light show of a storm that was passing by off-shore.

Leaning his elbow on the railing overlooking the pool he watched the play of light as it rumbled across the dense cloud cover. By the looks of it, the storm was shaping up to be a big one but all their scans told them it would keep well to the South of their island home. Even as far out to sea as it was, the winds were starting to pick up and Virgil could hear the storm surge as it crashed against the shoals and rocky outcroppings far below the family villa.

Losing himself to the slashes of lightning that danced across the heavens in a vibrant display of scorching white streaks buffeting, turbulent bruise coloured clouds that in an instant succumb to the abysmal void of inky black. He could feel in his bones that beep bass rumbles that followed. Thrumming through the Earth, cement and rebar of his home up though his feet and the oppressiveness of its ferocity weighed on him. Even all these many miles away the might of Mother Nature could be felt. He just prayed that no one was stupid enough to be out in that mess.

“Fingers crossed.”

*-*-*

It hadn’t been her intention to startle him. Far from it and it wasn’t like she was trying to be quiet about her approach. Virgil had been just so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed her standing beside him contemplating the stark contrast of light and shadows across the expanse of his tense back and heavy shoulders.

“Shit… Kayo, you scared the crap out of me.” He heaved a sigh, settling his weight against the railing again.

“Sorry, didn’t mean too but I was just agreeing with what you said.”

Puzzled eyes turned towards her and a thick brow arched in question to her statement.

Mirroring his pose, she gave his shoulder a nudge with her own before pointing a finger off towards the churning storm. “That no one is stupid enough to be out in that.” She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he processed her words, noting the stiffness to his posture, the way the darkness hung like a bruise under his tired eyes and the paler of his skin. Even in the limited lighting he looked more ghost-like than human.

He gave a grunt of understanding before turning back to watch the storm and lifting his tumbler to the distant clouds in a salute. “Here’s to hoping.” The last dregs in the glass disappeared in short order as he tossed it back. The whiff of whiskey wafting her way as he set the empty vessel on the railing between them.

“I thought you were on rota tomorrow?” She questioned as she eyed the glass and wondered how much had been consumed.

“I am.” His eyes followed hers and he gave a shrug but no further explanation and Kayo didn’t press.

She’d basically grown up with the man and his brothers so she trusted his judgement impeccably but there was still something bothering her about the whole scene. Something felt off..

“You okay?” She was never one to bat around the bushes and her gut was very seldom wrong especially where it concerned the man beside her. The man she’d stopped seeing as a sibling sometime ago and started seeing as something else entirely. It was something that started to blossom one unforgettable snowy night the previous November in New York but neither of them had had the time to tend to since…. Other more pressing things had gotten in the way and there was now another Tracy planet side and returned from the dead as a result.

Maybe now…

He gave a shrug and he shifted to look at her, the wind blowing in off the coast tousling his unstyled hair in a roguish way across his brow. “I’m fine, nothing to worry about.”

He was holding something back, she could tell. Something eerie lurked in his tired walnut gazed. Shifting across the usual vivid depths like the smoldering haze after a wildfire. Dampening what was usually brilliant and clear.

She stepped towards him, her hand reaching to cup his check. The unshaved scruff rough against the palm of her hand. “I’m a good listener if you need an ear.”

He turned into her embrace, brushed his lips over the soft flesh of her hand in silent thanks and smiled at her. “Kinda a prerequisite in your line of work.”

Her own lips quirked up. “Growing up in a house full of testosterone it was a necessity or I would never have been able to sneak out at night with five over protective brothers.”

Virgil chuckled, some of the murkiness leaving his eyes. “Point taken.”

She let her hand drop and a flash of something like disappointed flickered across his brow.

His breath fanned across her face as he sighed, the light fragrance of whiskey warming her. “So…” she said, crossing her arms and emitting the air of stubbornness she was known for. “Spill already.”

A heavy shoulder lifted, the light cast through the open lounge doors catching on the planes of thick muscle with the movement and she couldn’t resist brushing a hand over the warm skin.

“Rough night, that’s all.”

“Can’t sleep again?’

He looked surprised at her question and she had her answer without him saying a word.

“Virgil, I specialize in security. I am well aware of your night time routine.Two has never run better and the gym equipment requires a break from you before you actually break it. Besides,” She added admiring the way his biceps bunched as he rested his hands on his hips, “You get any bigger you won’t be able to fit down Two’s chute”

A soft curse slipped past his lips. It was obvious that he’d thought that his attempts to avoid his family had been successful.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t or wont say anything to Scott.” Her fingers gave his shoulder a light squeeze of reassurance. “If it gets worse I know you’ll do the right thing and say something yourself. You’re dealing with it right now in your own way and you have a right to your own privacy and council. Just, if you wanna talk...” she stalled out on her offering, shifting her gaze away from his to take in the night around them as heat started to colour her cheeks.

A moment later his fingers danced across her brow and she sucked in a breath as he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His strong musician’s fingers lingered until she met his eyes again.

He was looking down at her, so close now that the bare skin of his chest brushed hers with every breath. He seemed to be sturdier now, more so then when she’d discovered him looking despondently at the storm. An assuredness that had been missing before seemed to have returned to the strong line of his jaw and the tension she’d seen in his posture was gone. There was a shift in the air around him, almost anticipatory in nature and she felt a thrill run down her spine.

Her pulse kicked at the heat imbued in his eyes as he gently angled her face towards his own. She stammered, not able to finish off what she had been about to say. “..uh..talk about....”

“Thank you, Tin’ He whispered, the oaky tang of alcohol ghosting across her lips and effectively stopping her uncharacteristic fumbling.

It took but a nanosecond for her brain to go from a midair stall out to ignition. Her inner monologue screamed, demanding that she act. Only the slightest of movements would be needed to bridge the distance between them. An easy contraction of muscles and she could push up on her toes, silencing all other words with the meeting of their lips. Without further hesitation, she did just that.

Months of denied contact and frustration sprang to the fore, blazing bright and intoxicating. Before either of them were aware, they were wrapped around each other. His strong body flush to her own, his hand tangled in her hair that had somehow between one second and the next come undone from its customary binding.

“God..” she panted, barely recognizing her own voice. His lips skimming across her flesh, trailing like fire down her neck to that spot that made her world flip on its axis. Light headed she scraped her nails down his back. Seeking purchase as her knees grew weak.

“I’ve missed you…”

He emitted a groan of approval. The sound heady, potent and oh so primal. It was almost her undoing and the burn within her flared.

Desperate for more and caring little about where they were standing, she slipped her hand between them...

The sudden intrusion of a throat clearing had them springing apart so fast that she almost lost her footing and she gracelessly plopped down on the nearest lounger. A feeble attempt on her part to save face. The instantaneous lack of Virgil’s body heat made her shiver and it sobered her mind faster than any cold shower could.

One of the overhead lights flicked on and the silhouetted figure at the balcony door came into sharp focus. A short striped housecoat was sashed neatly at a trim waist and slippered feet scuffed lightly over the flooring as the head of the house stepped out onto the balcony. In one hand he swirled a glass of water. Condensation dribbling over faintly scared hands as the ice cubes tinkled with the rhythmic movement.

“Tanusha,” He greeted, one proud eyebrow arched high over suspicious eyes as he scanned over the breathless pair. “Son.”

*-*-*

Fuck… that was all that came to mind as Virgil gaped at his father though he knew better than to voice the expletive.

Reaching out a hand, he grasped at the railing and wished his own long forgotten glass wasn’t so empty.

How in hell was he going to explain this?

He peered over to Kayo hoping that she could provide something, anything that might salvage the situation. The stunned deer-caught-in-the-headlights look he found though didn't bode well.

His first attempt to speak caught in his throat and he cleared it self consciously before risking a quick glance down to assess his person. Thankfully everything was where it should be and mercifully, PG...well...kind of.

“...Dad…It’s late, what are you doing up?”

Jeff blinked at his son then held up his glass, the answer obvious. “Hydrating, as I can see you have been doing too.”

“Oh..ya that… just a night cap.”

“And you’re on call in the morning?” It was said more like a statement than a question and Virgil did his best to hide the wince at the hidden reprimand.

His father turned to Kayo, effectively dismissing the subject from further conversation as he was well aware that his message had been received loud and clear.

Virgil did a fast and stealthy re-adjustment of his pants and groaned internally. Chances were by morning he would find that his shift had been rescheduled and he was going to need to dodge the Scott Tracy hairy eyeball all day. An unwritten rule that all the younger brothers were well aware of; never mess with the Commander’s schedules. It was some old hang up from his military days that he’d never grown out of to the detriment of the rest of the island. As unpredictable as Scott could be when on mission, at home you could figure out the time of day by what the eldest was doing. From his morning jog right down to when he grabbed the daily stock reports and headed to the bathroom.

It was kind of freaky actually. The man’s bowels were perfectly timed, no matter the food that went in...even if it was Grandma’s cooking.

Giving the back of his neck a rub, Virgil surmised he spent far too much time with his brother, far, far too much time.

Well with the exception of playing a tantalizing round of ‘avoid the angry, overly concerned big brother’… at least he could attempt to catch up on some sleep.

Ding! Bright side!...Crap.

“Tanusha, didn’t know you were back on the island. How was the flight in?”

“Uh.. hell of a cross wind on approach, ” Kayo finally piped up, returning once more to her feet. Her security agent persona nailed firmly back into place. “But nothing Shadow couldn’t handle.”

“Hmm, glad to hear it. You’ll have to let me take her for a spin sometime.” His father said all conversationally as if that fact that his second eldest and basically his adoptive daughter hadn’t just been about to get it on right there on the balcony like a pair of randy teenagers.

Jeff tipped his chin in the direction of the storm. “Nice light show.”

Virgil caught a hint of a grin on his father’s face that was not quite hidden behind a careful sip of water. The man knew exactly what he was doing and he was loving every minute of it.

“Uhhh… ya. It is.” Well, this was definitely awkward and his father was sadistic. Now would be a fantastic time for John to call down with a situation.. Somewhere.. .Anywhere.. For anything.. Like a cat stuck in a tree in say like Alaska...right now…

Kayo nodded her head in agreement and mouthed an apology in Virgil’s direction when Jeff turned to take in the view. “Well, it’s been lovely talking to you both but duty call.” She glanced down at her wrist as if to check the time but really it was to avoid the pleading look on Virgil’s face. “Canada’s about to come online and they owe me a report on last week’s protocol updates.”

Virgil’s shoulders slumped..

“Good night, Tanusha.”

“Good night, Jeff.” And she slinked off into the house, holding her head high despite that fact that there was still a healthy glow of red riding her cheeks.

Jeff shifted his attention back to Virgil. “So..you two were just,” He actually stopped mid sentence to emphasize his point with finger quotation. “Talking ?”

Exhausted beyond measure, embarrassed within an inch of his life and, if he was going to be truthful to himself; horny as hell…Yup, this evening was summing up to be a real shit show.

Crossing and uncrossing his arms, Virgil really wasn’t sure what to do with himself. It wasn’t like he was a teenager anymore. He was a grown man, of course he had relationships of a romantic nature.. He wasn’t a monk, by any stretch of the imagination but this was his father and old habits apparently did die hard.

Despite the length of time his father had been absent and the fact the family dynamic in the house was still adjusting to the patriarch’s return, Virgil felt like he’d somehow regressed back to a sixteen year old again. Caught making out with his highschool girlfriend on the couch and trying to make up excuses for the state of their undress.

The smile on his father’s face told him though that the man was well aware of his son’s floundering.

“Relax, son.” A humorous snort followed and he wandered over to stand beside him, leaning casually on the railing. “ I believe we had that conversation about the birds and the bees when you were eleven. You’re a grown man, I’m not going to fault you for looking for a bit of peace and comfort. ”

Virgil studied the ground, his mind drifting to the woman that had so captured his attention. He’d been skirting around how he felt in regards to her for months and he still had doubts if it was right of him to feel the way he did. To revise their adoptive familial relationship to something more intimate after everything they had been though. He often wondered if he was in some way taking advantage… as stupid as that might sound to others he seriously questioned his own motives.

It had been Kayo that had taken the first giant leap though. He shouldn’t have been surprised with her intuition. She’d seen right through him. Tore down all his defenses to expose what he so stupidly thought was hidden from her. Everything all out into the open for them both to see and after that..right into a penthouse suite at the Park Hyatt.

One thing about Kayo, she certainly didn’t waste time when the chips were down. She knew what she wanted and she went for it.

“So, you and our Tin-tin, huh?” Jeff chuckled and Virgil brought his attention back to his father.. “I never would have suspected but seeing you two together just now.. Well, I can definitely say that the pair of you are a good match. Complementary to each other actually.”

Despite his own embarrassment, Virgil started to relax. Relieve that his father seemed fine with what he had inadvertently walked in on. “Its, uh.. still very new.”

“Really?” Jeff questioned, his brows shooting up in mild surprise. “With that chemistry? Reminds me of when your Mom and I were together. After the first few months there wasn’t a lot that could distract us from…”

“Dad!” Virgil all but squeaked. He didn’t think it was possible to fit more blood into his head at that moment but apparently he could. Well at least the blood had stopped pooling somewhere else....thank God..

Jeff raised a placating hand and his words carried a laugh in them. “Okay, okay. I will spare you the details. The point being, the pair of you look good together and I must admit even with me still trying to get the lay of the land around here… you two fit and if it makes the pair of you happy, then I wholeheartedly approve.”

Virgil was speechless a moment. It had been the last thing he expected. Approval so easily given from a man he remembered as being rather commanding and if he was being truthful to himself, a bit intimidating.

His father’s time in space had changed him, changed them all in ways they didn't fully understand.

His father placed a hand on his shoulder, his calloused fingers tightening for a brief moment before he turned to watch the storm.

They sat a moment in companionable silence. Father and son, just taking in the light show together, getting reacquainted in a quiet moment while the rest of the house slept on.

It didn’t last long but it was enough to start mending the old tired fences that lay scattered between them. Not broken from misuse but worn from the years of absence. “You should try and get some sleep, son. You look tired and the sun will be up soon enough.”

Virgil inhaled deeply, tasting the distant rain and the linger hint of jasmine on his tongue. He nodded as he pushed away from the railing, rolling his shoulders to loosen up some of the knots that lingered there. “I should.” He agreed but paused before heading inside once more. “Thanks, Dad. Enjoy the storm."

Jeff tipped his glass slightly in salute. "I always did love a good show."

Virgil paused a moment, not sure how to take that but quickly decided he was way too tired to figure it out. Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes with a soft chuckle and stepped back into the house.

o0o

FIN

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hide-the-cutlery · 4 years

Text

The next two days are going to suck.

I’m out of pills. Well, not completely out. I have about 8 of my anxiety pills left — to last me 3 weeks. I’m supposed to take 3 a day. So I have those, and some otc pills that take me out of myself a little, but I have to be careful with those, because, for me, they can trigger panic. I can pick up my pain meds in 2 days, but they usually makes me puke. I thought I was doing better this month with my usage, but I guess not. Then there’s more anxiety pills that supposedly help with my alcohol cravings, which aren’t a controlled substance, so I can probably get those next week. None of this really matters, because I don’t have shit now.

I’m so medicated. Even if I took everything as prescribed, I’d probably be an incoherent mess. I’m a master manipulator with doctors, which I’m simultaneously proud of and ashamed of. I know how to get what I want, within reason. It’s all about building a rapport with them and finding that sweet spot where they believe you need what you’re getting and never trying to push for more. I tried a few times to get another of my anxiety pills a day, but my psychiatrist pushed back and changed something else instead, so I knew I had to drop it.

What boggles my mind is that I’m a fucking alcoholic (addict), and these medical professionals still throw potentially dangerous, addicting medication at me. What pisses me off is how much they don’t listen. I saw my psychiatrist yesterday and brought a list of things I wanted to talk about with him, since the appointments go so fast. I wanted to explain my racing thoughts keeping me from completing simple tasks. My complete lack of impulse control. My delusional beliefs that the universe is trying to get back at me for being a shitty person. That I’ll stay up all night (sometimes for 2-3 nights in a row) and do things like clean. Even if I lay down, turn off everything, and pray for sleep, I just can’t. The fact that I didn’t finish my cleaning (or whatever I started) gets in my head and makes rest impossible. His solution? Let’s increase your seroquel again.

Scary things are starting to happen. Sometimes I go on a “bender” in a store(s), and I don’t remember when, how, what I got, etc. My memory needs to be jogged sometimes. This past time I got twelve bottles of body wash, for a total of 29. And that’s not including hairspray, hair gel, hair accessories, dry shampoo, lotion, makeup, nail polish, and a fuckton of clothes. I am out of control. It’s funny — I want to lose a little more weight (I just lost ~25lbs), but then all the clothes I’ve acquired won’t fit, so the fruits of my labor will be spoiled. I’ll have to start over. That is literally my thought process, and it’s so fucked. Stores know me. They watch me. They follow me. They know my fucking name and know what I do. And honestly, I just don’t care. I mean I care because I don’t want to get caught again, but the odds are seemingly in my favor. Even the LP woman where I actually got the cops called on me said “we’ve been watching you a long time, but you’re too good.” Not saying that as something to brag about, just recalling what happened. Also, I recognize when someone is trying to manipulate me. She was trying to get me to confess to other things because what they must have had on me would never hold up in court. I am not stupid. I don’t know what I did that time to allow them to catch me, but clearly I slipped up somewhere. Either that, or they just went with it, hoping I’d confess. Which I did. I cooperated; hopefully it helps me in the end. I was watching trashy tv this morning, and a woman mentioned she went to jail for two months for petty theft. The host of the show even seemed shocked by that. Maybe she had priors or other factors that played into it. But yeah, I can’t go to jail! It’s not an excuse, and if you look at my actions alone, yeah, maybe I deserve to go to jail, too. But (prepare yourself for some massive excuses) I’m sick. I don’t do it because I want material things. I don’t think I am above the law. I’m not trying to make some pathetic stand against capitalism. I just can’t control my impulses, and I’m sick. I’m working with my therapist, my psychiatrist (at least I make an effort to), and some women in AA to get help, and nothing is working. I thought after I got caught, I’d stop, and for a while, I did. But that apparently wasn’t enough, either. It’s a compulsion — fighting it is futile. It actually started out as excessive spending, but I ran out of the means to keep that up, so now it’s this. I know it’s because of my issues with addiction and mental health. I don’t see it any differently than drinking, drug use, sex, or whatever. It’s an alternative to drinking. I can’t do that anymore, so this filled the void. Every time I have spent money excessively or done this, I haven’t been drinking. The object of my addiction (for me, at least), bounces around until I can’t do that thing anymore, and my brain holds up a sign that says NEXT in glowing, red letters. Like a “no vacancy” sign at a shitty motel.

I know before I went on that little tangent, I was listing some things that are scaring me. Sometimes, after I wake up, I’ll check my phone and find that I tried to write, but it’s total jibberish. Sometimes I feel like I’m losing time. I don’t know where the days go; I wake up and (try to) go to bed. I’ll start to do something, my mind will go blank, and I won’t remember what I was doing. I’m stumbling all over the place. I’ll try to have conversations (usually in the morning), and I’ll be able to hear myself slurring. I seem to talk without thinking. An example: I’ll be in a room with only one other person, talking to them, but it will feel like part of myself has separated from me and is screaming “You LIAR! Shut the fuck up! That’s not true and you know it. Quit pulling things out of your ass and tell the fucking truth. Drop the whole facade; you have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, nor do you believe what you’re saying. You’re pathetic. Spineless. You’re fake.” I swear I couldn’t pick myself out of a lineup sometimes.

I feel that third presence with me frequently, but recently it hit a new level of intensity. I had a few job interviews a couple weeks ago and I found myself exaggerating the truth so much that it made me feel uncomfortable. All I could hear in my head was “LIAR LIAR LIAR”. (And forcing myself to make unwavering eye contact made me feel ill.) I tried to tell myself that’s just how interviews go, and that they weren’t really lies at all, just maybe a few embellishments, but I cannot listen to myself when I’m being rational. Irrationality is really all I know lately. I ended up taking a position with a company that seemed sketchy as hell, but I was desperate. I’m tired of being broke and needed the money so badly that it would have been absolutely foolish of me to decline the offer. The me who showed up to those interviews and got hired was not the me who showed up on the first day. The embellishments and feigned self-confidence were gone — all that was left was pitiful, anxious me with one foot out the door in case I had a panic attack and who won’t look you in the face, much less make eye contact. The more and more I learned about the position and the company, the more I wanted out. It turned out to be door-to-door sales, which was not how the job was described in the interviews. If there ever were a job that wasn’t for me, that’d be it. The leader of my team obviously noticed and basically let me quit. So I’m back to being unemployed. Oh well, it was a life lesson. I’m also back to being broke (not that I ever wasn’t). I didn’t even get paid for my training! I’m doing worse and worse things to get a few bucks here and there. It’s shameful. I would have declined the position on the spot, but my family is pushing me so hard to go back to work full time that I couldn’t in good conscience say thanks, but no thanks. I don’t know if I’m ready. I don’t think I’m ready. Sadly, you can’t look at someone and see what’s going on in their mind. If they could do that, I’m pretty sure they’d back off. I’ve been telling them I have to make my own decisions, and my priority is getting some help with my mental health. That didn’t really go over well. They think I’m capable because I had my shit (somewhat) together a few years ago, but it’s not a few years ago anymore. I’m still recovering and struggling. The tension in this house is almost tangible, and it’s completely my fault. Well, it’s my fault in the sense that I’m not where they want or expect me to be. It’s not that I don’t want to work or contribute financially. I do. I want a normal existence, but “this life I loathe is in my way”.

So because of all this, I’ve decided to look at getting a complete psych evaluation. I’ve never been given any kind of diagnoses aside from issues with depression, anxiety, and substance abuse. I know that’s not all that’s going on. I’ve had potential diagnoses thrown around like bipolar disorder, BDP, OCD tendencies, suppressed memories of trauma... I’m sure the pills don’t help (“but it sure is funny”). I take them because I can’t handle day to day functioning. Every day it feels like there’s a crisis, and I’ve felt this way long before I ever took a swig of vodka or popped some pills. When I discovered those things, nothing seemed as intense anymore. I stopped jumping at my own shadow. No wonder I’m an addict.

#Addiction #Meds #Pills #Mental Health #Personal #Long Post

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sgnolivia · 5 years

Text

weird flex— are you okay??

two days into maybe-olivia’s eat-pray-love-crush-enemy-skulls pillage of cleveland, she’s struck by a migraine so searing that she has enough presence of mind to google psnn hesd dyig strook e ? before she’s left twitching in a trash heap behind starbucks.

it’s still light out when her brain stops trying to design, manufacture, and detonate it’s own atomic bomb. maybe-olivia isn’t sure if it’s been three hours or three days. the double chocolate chip frappe she bought t-minus five to blackout (ha!) has solidified on her pants. she can taste seafoam under her tongue.

she stares up at the sky in muted exhaustion.

god, it’s me, she thinks. i would like to invoke my right to choose.

perhaps if the zygote tube had been pro-choice, none of this would be fucking happening.

the lizard takes over all executive functioning at that point, forcibly ejecting her from the drivers seat. when she blinks down at her shirt it’s neon green and has a fun i love chicago! written across a black skyline.

maybe-olivia wonders if she saw the blue bedroom and doesn’t remember it. hopefully the lizard wrote it in the unicorn book.

not that it matters. what’s another forgotten thing in the grand scheme of it all? it’s a fifty-fifty shot she’ll remember anything she’s written in the notebook, anyway. her memory is half a step above melted swiss cheese.

from that point on, every decision is like russian roulette with a gun that’s fully loaded. maybe-olivia has no fucking idea what’s going to set her spinning into a migraine or send her flying off the realm of human existence or remind her, hey, she fucking loves macaroons. it’s a lot of calculated risks and maybe-olivia discovers that she’s very bad at math.

it goes on like this for an indeterminable amount of time.

she tries to balance her world-wide assassination tour with her brain’s need to self-destruct every seventy-three seconds. it is difficult.

after the act of dying her hair a soft brown sends her tripping into a panic attack, shivering violently and puking all over the nice bathroom of the vacation home she’s squatting in, maybe-olivia decides this isn’t working.

the unicorn notebook is full, so maybe-olivia unpacks the glittery purple one she bought to replace it. the pen that lights up was lost somewhere in bolivia so she has to settle for a fatter pen that holds four different wells of ink. she feels traitorous for liking it more than its predecessor.

option 1:

die.

honestly, this is the easiest and most cost-effective route. at this point she’s ninety-five percent sentient machine gun. there wouldn’t be much lost. blackout was set to be decommissioned after operation foxtrot anyway. maybe-olivia would just be finishing what was set into motion a long time ago.

she switches the pen into the blue inkwell and sets up a t-chart.

pros:

no more migraines.

won’t wake up in romanian hostel.

stop randomly puking.

permanently get rid of lizard.

cons:

maybe-oliva sits back in the chair. this list is marginally harder.

agency is exhausting and confusing. some days she’s completely post-verbal and other days she can only speak argentinian spanish, despite having no memories related to argentina. some days she physically can’t wake her body up for more than six minutes at a time. most days she throws up everything she tries to eat.

maybe-olivia wishes she was strapped back into her holding cell in the unnamed facility, twelve floors below the earth.

this transforms her body into a wet chihuahua. it takes four hours to pull her bones back inside her skin and another two just to get off the floor.

jesus, she thinks, and adds keep bones in skin to the pros list.

she ruminates on her death for a bit, losing time to daydreaming about the endless sleep that might await her. none of her training covered the afterlife so this is as much a guess as everything else in her life. maybe it’s an endless blank void. maybe it’s burning in a pit. maybe it’s a another shot. maybe-olivia hopes not. she doesn’t know if her spirit can handle another go-round of this.

but, her brain lizard pipes up, then they would win!

maybe-olivia growls out loud and pointedly tells it to shut the fuck up even if she begrudgingly admits that it has a point.

if she dies, then director howard lives.

this alights something hot deep in her gut. it feels like she has to puke and run fourteen miles at the same time. there’s no way in hell marcus fucking howard gets to live over her. fuck that. fuck that.

and really, doesn’t she deserve that? doesn’t she deserve the right to drag howard out of his villa safehouse, shove a piece of rubber in his mouth, break all his fingers, and ask what her real goddamn name is?

project sisyphyus has been trying to kill her— the real her— for eleven fucking years and they still haven’t gotten it done. she wins, they lose. they’ll have to try harder.

she writes fuck that in the scrawling, bunched together lettering she’s beginning to associate with her own personal handwriting. it’s nice. it feels like she owns something.

fuck that.

if they want me dead, they better fucking find me.

option 2:

get it the fuck together

there are no cons to this. she doesn’t need a t-chart.

getting it together proves to be a con all on it’s own. her brain is a glorified vegetable but it’s all she’s got. it’s not like she can swap it out for a new one. it needs serious repairs though, and short of hooking her scalp up to a car battery, maybe-olivia isn’t sure how to go about this.

google is, though.

and google doesn’t care if she has to look something up four times an hour. it points her towards helpful websites. searching how do i get my memories back and following it with who the fuck am i six times in half as many hours points her to a self-help thread which leads her to a diagnosis forum. she has acute brain trauma, post-traumatic stress disorder, dissociative episodes, panic attacks, and sometimes seizures. also, maybe arthritis. she has to ask google what dissociation means.

maybe-olivia is struck with the overwhelming knowledge that other people know what she’s going through. there are other people who fell head first out of a plane with no parachute and have been hurtling towards the ground for as long as they can remember. sure, they haven’t been tortured and brainwashed and denied the basic human rights that are allocated pretty much across the board but she doesn’t care. she feels connected to these people who live half outside of their skin, wondering the earth like zombies chewed up in the garbage disposal.

they teach coping strategies. ways to fake normal existence so that it seems like they’re living in the same reality as everyone else. how to breathe when her lungs collapse. how to avoid physical contact in day-to-day situations.

a lot of them gently suggest finding creative outlets for her feelings. she tries writing but after penning an expansive four page letter in cantonese only to suddenly forget how to read cantonese, she gives that up.

she decides she isn’t really ready to sift through her emotions. her bodies fucked up instincts are enough without trying to decide if she’s depressed, furious, or anxious on top of it.

google assures her that recovery happens in stages and at her own pace. if you aren’t ready today, try a little bit more tomorrow.

her brain still jerks her around like it’s the worlds most aggressive dog owner and she’s the runt of a teacup poodle’s litter, but it works to her advantage. no one can track her if even she has no idea where she’s going next. the targets come in migraines, in hallucinations, in dissociative fits, but they come and maybe-olivia dutifully follows, even if she can’t remember doing it. it’s admittedly a reckless strategy but if there’s a part of her that isn’t a screaming disaster then she hasn’t recovered that part yet.

she reviews her notebooks every few days, now. they look like they’ve been written by at least four people, one of them being a small child. there’s a variety of languages, handwriting styles, codes, and small illustrations. one page just says fuck licorice in increasingly bold font, fiercely underlined and surrounded by aggressive exclamation points.

it doesn’t do much except reaffirm that she has the minimal amount of control required to be a human being, but that’s okay.

a lot of her problems sort themselves out once a helpful blog post points out that she’s eating about a third of what’s required of adult women. this is mostly because she constantly throws up anything that tastes more flavorful than wheat bread but also because she’s never really had to feed herself before. hunger is just another loud, shrieking signal her body sends at her to inform her that something’s wrong, but it sends fifty of those a minute. how’s she supposed to know where the problem is?

a steady combination of pedialyte, muscle milk, and a bottle of gummy vitamins becomes the solution. she has to set alarms to remind herself to drink them and it isn’t ideal, but it keeps her caloric intake up, and solves the arthritis issue.

it also makes it easier to actually keep the memories she recovers which is a huge win.

that doesn’t mean things are smooth by anyone’s standards, including her own. random things still absolutely kneecap her— a dad yelling at his son, a lawn mower starting up outside the motel, her own abilities blinding her first thing in the morning. but every incapaciting moment gives a clue.

a car backfires on the road and maybe-olivia darts behind a minivan, seeing both the tan metal under her hand and white sand beaches.

239948S462569W

maybe-olivia has never infiltrated a fully-staffed enemy facility on her own before. that’s alright. it can be a learning experience for everyone.

#tw; memory loss #tw; slight gore #tw; severe suicide ideation #t; recovery #t; 1 month post lizard #p; weird flex

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heyitsnovachan · 5 years

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So, I'm going to go insane if I don't get my thoughts out soon. Idk, I always have a hard time really getting to a point where I can talk to people I know. I feel like I'm a burden. It's probably because of some deep rooted shit that come from my abandonment issues. Not really the point, though. I'm just..life fucking sucks for me right now. I've never actually wanted to die as much as I do right now.

I won't, because that's not a thing I would do, but I won't lie and say that I'm not struggling right now. I see people with issues that are really really REAL, things that make me feel like I shouldn't be whining about this, even thought it's a big deal.

My younger sister has recently gone on a string of several attempts at her life. The last of which ended in a hospital stay, which now is resulting in her being sent out of state away from where I can see her every day. It's just..not fair.

All the times I said I hated her and I hated how she acted or how I was her stand in baby sitter, I never meant it. I never meant the hurtful things I've said to her. Again, not the point, though.

I've been staying with the boyfriend for the past week hoping to try and keep my mind off things, but it's just not working. I'm so scared at what this means. I'm scared for her, even though I know she'll be getting the help she deserves. I just..I don't know what to do or how to feel anymore. Today I cried for the first real time, which is not the best sign coming from me.

I'm just scared. More scared than I should be. The other day it was dropped on me that now my father might be going to jail for hitting her. Which, I feel even worse for because I had previously mocked him in a mean spirited way after a fight over some stupid shit. Now he might be going away for a few years because of it.

I know you'll say "Oh, but Nova, he has it coming for hitting a mentally disabled child", and normally I'd agree. The problem is it wasn't done out of malice. It was done because she was hysterical and had just made an attempt on her life. He reacted out of fear of losing her. Bare in mind, that's no excuse for it, but he feels horrible for it and already blames himself for this all. He's a hard man, but he's not an abusive man. He's just..stupid sometimes.

I just, I don't know how to feel anymore. I'm tired. So fucking tired it isn't even funny. I don't want to feel this scared and tired anymore, but I don't know how to make it right. Drinking seems like the best solution for me at this point. My doctor won't accept my requests for appointments anymore, and I just..don't have the energy to get myself a new doctor. I can't even afford the trip to the doctors and the meds I would need to feel normal anyways. Honestly I don't know why I'm even writing this. Maybe I just need to scream into the void. Hope that this just bottles up all my negative emotions and just toss em aside. These are all just random musings anyways.

If I were a stronger person I could just survive this, but as of right now? I'm fucking scared, man. I've never felt this much disinterest in continuing to thrive. maybe I should be where she's going. I have no fucking clue anymore. I just want to sleep until this is over. No fussing over cosplay, no crying over not being able to write, no losing sleep because I'm too exhausted to fall asleep. I just..want it all to stop until I feel better. That's all I really want.

#tw: suidice #tw: sucide mention #tw suicude #random musings #please don't reblog

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takaraphoenix · 6 years

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Um. I have urges sometimes to self-harm, but I have a fear of cutting, so I try biting things. It helps, but I on't think it'd help as much as ppl say cutting does. But I have a fear of it. That fear stems from having 10+ surgeries in 14 years for my condition. I haven't needed surgery since I was 9, but the inherent fear of cutting and blades on my skin remains. Is there any other good way to let out the negative energy?

Thaaat is a lot of surgery. ôô

I am not going on public record giving you advise on how to best self-harm without using a blade. That is super not the kind of things I want to stand for, because I’d like for my followers to do better than me because I’m very aware my coping mechanisms are unhealthy.

So, have a list of things I’ve done over the years to suppress and replace the urge to self harm:

Really loud really angry music. And singing along to it. Mostly Fall Out Boy. At the top of my lungs, music blaring so loud in my ears that I can’t hear my own thoughts. Because if you’re singing, your mind is occupied on the task, if you’re listening to music and can’t hear your thoughts, they can’t go down South any further. Until you exhaust yourself with it.

Write it or draw it instead. Are you an artist? Use your art to get rid of it. Write about your characters self-harming. Explicit, with the feelings involved, so that by writing it you will experience the feelings again second-hand without having actually self-harmed. Draw your characters self-harming, the way you want to in that moment. Those keep you occupied and it can give you enough of a sense to what you feel when you self-harm without actually self-harming.

Take a walk. A really long walk that’ll exhaust your body and mind. Listen to music while doing it. Maybe the loud and angry music. Physical exercise, to the point that when you get home you’re too exhausted to lift an arm to even get anything to self-harm with. There was a time when I went on dayly 3 to 4 hour walks, got home at 2AM and just fell dead into my bed.

Help others. When I can’t deal with my own problems and can’t seem to find solutions to them, it genuinely helps me to help others. My friends or someone in my family, when they have solvable problems. Working on a solution, knowing I have solved a problem - even if it wasn’t mine - helps give me a bit of peace of mind.

Trash shit. Seriously, take something that can break, that doesn’t matter to you and completely trash it. Rip something apart. Throw shit through the room. Take your negative emotions out on inanimate objects instead of yourself.

Scream into the void. Just... scream into a pillow. It sounds stupid, but it also helps. Personally, not as much as the music because that also has a level of distraction to it, but oh well.

Bite your nails. You have the urge to self-harm, to do something, start biting your nails. It keeps you occupied and if biting is your go-to way or self-harm, it’ll actually keep the right body-part occupied. It might not look pretty on the manicure, but it beats bleeding.

Cry. When negative emotions bottle up, expressing them can help dim that feeling. Often, there is a dam stopping you from crying. So, sometimes I just watch a really fucking sad movie to break that and then everything comes flooding out, not just about the movie but all the negative personal thoughts and feelings too. And after you’re done crying, the world might look a little brither.

I hope any of those are useful to you.

#Self-Harm #or rather #how not to self-harm #Coping Mechanisms #Anonymous

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colliermelissa1994 · 4 years

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Cat Pee Remedy Cheap And Easy Useful Tips

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Getting Rid Of The Smell Of Tom Cat Spray

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Wipe up what you want to void on the table comes with an effective solution to nixing the problem for outdoor cats, who like to be a better understanding of why their cats often.The next time he decides not to use its litter tray.But if they do need to plan this as part of toilet paper strewn all over the ground.Automatic litter boxes for each of the treatments from your bedroom and bathroom.Some stores sell nail caps to their physical & mental well being.

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Mark Hill Heat Protection Spray How To Use

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#Cat Pee Remedy Cheap And Easy Useful Tips #Cat Peeing Water

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cookinguptales · 7 years

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So not to get too far into it, but I have had psychological/physiological reactions due to trauma that would probably qualify as PTSD if I cared to get it diagnosed. I grew up in an extremely violent home where I lived in perpetual fear for my own physical safety, and I was also sexually abused by a trusted adult when I was in my teens. Again, I don’t want to get into too many details, but I think you have to understand that (especially the prolonged physical abuse) to understand what I’m about to say.

Living at home with a violent family member (who, contrary to popular representation, was not a parent) made me wary and hypervigilant, often on a subconscious level. I didn’t realize how tense I was whenever I was home until I went home for the first time since leaving for college and I felt my body seize up the moment I walked in the door. I didn’t realize how deeply it affected me until I had a panic attack and cried my first night in Japan -- because it was my first time in decades sleeping without a locked door. I had to rearrange my furniture so I could see the door while in my bed before I could get to sleep. It’s just the constant tenseness of muscles, the constant wariness, exhaustion, anger, fear. It’s an extremely physical response, but also an all-encompassing emotional one that left me drained on par with my physical fatigue due to my chronic illness.

I write all this to say that I’ve finally hit on the reason I’ve been mostly unable to write long fics the past few months. The way I feel now, this raw animal emotion that I feel while watching my country fall down around my ears, is the way that I felt years ago when I was living at home. I am white, full disclosure, but I am also female and disabled and queer. To be any of those things right now is to live with a certain degree of fear -- and believe me, they stack. I am hyperaware of the visibility of my sex, my orientation, and my disability. I am scared, and I am angry. For both myself and for others. When I visited home last week, my parents begged me not to wear anything that identified me as queer (t-shirts, pins, keychains, etc.) while in their part of the country -- because there have been gay bashings in their area recently. They were scared. Hell, every time I open up the news these days, I see disabled activists being assaulted, I see politicians bargaining with my life and my healthcare, I see rallies of fucking Neo-Nazis marching for such repugnant issues as “race health”, women as incubators, and straight-up eugenics. I’ve gotten harassment on twitter, people questioning whether disabled people like me have the right to live. I’ve had the people on my side agree with me -- until I criticize them, at which point I’m just some “oversensitive queer”. And things are just getting worse and worse and worse.

These days I’m torn between fury that POC, LGBT folks, PWD, ethnic/religious minorities, women, etc. are being attacked -- and fear because I know that any day I could become a statistic. I feel cold, alien horror when I see people carrying Nazi memorabilia down streets in droves -- because I know who the first victims of the Nazi gas chambers were. (And I know that the first disabled child murdered by the Nazis was handed to them by his own parents.) I never thought this country was perfect, but for a long time, it seemed like we were getting better. That we wanted to get better. But these days, I feel like those years were just the eye of the storm.

I know that most of my followers follow me for my fiction, which is generally pretty escapist. And I keep telling myself that creating escapist fiction is so important right now. That it’s important that I give people at least a small oasis, at least as much as I can. But it’s been really, really hard for me to write lately. Because I’ve finally figured it out. What I’m feeling right now. It’s being drawn taut, always waiting for the next bang on your door, the next rake of nails down your skin, then next black eye. It’s knowing that it’s not safe to relax. Not yet. Maybe not ever. It’s danger at the corner of your eye, coming up fast. It’s a shroud over you and all that you do, leaving you unsettled and weepy and jittery. Nothing I write seems right. Nothing I write seems worthwhile. And my mind is consumed of all the little (and large) hurts that I am seeing every day. My back hurts all the time and so does my jaw. I can’t fucking untense.

I know that me writing about disability rights and writing for charity and having rough conversations with those I love, all those things are bound up in my sense of empathy and my sense of justice. But I also know that it’s me trying to exert some measure of control over a world that seems to be crashing down. It’s me trying to make the world a better place so it will stop giving me panic attacks. idk how useful any of that is. Hell, it’s probably alienating people. But I don’t know what to do anymore. My coping mechanisms were designed to deal with accidentally getting triggered when I see a woman with my abuser’s haircut, not Nazi rallies. I keep trying to be constructive to battle the destructive forces at play in the world today, but I feel like an ant chipping away at a boulder. And the boulder is slowly but inexorably rolling towards me.

Anyway, I’m sorry, I guess. I feel like I should be doing so much more than I am. The sweet words that I’ve always depended on to get me through things, though, seem to be bottled up in my chest. They hang there like a weight, reminding me of responsibilities I have but solutions I no longer have access to. It’s a problem I think a lot of writers are having right now. And hell, I know that I wrote back when I was a teen, when I was in a home life that had me feeling just like this. I’m trying to remember how I did it. ‘Coz right now I just want to cry, like, all the time.

How do you even discern between re-emerging depression and justifiable sadness? I don’t know anymore. I feel muffled, bound up tight and suffocating. Or maybe just I’m screaming into a void that everyone else is screaming into at the same time, and instead of our voices becoming stronger, it’s just pointless chaos.

idk man. Maybe I should just...clean or something... Something constructive. I know it’s the best response. It’s just so hard to be positive these days, and I don’t want to write things that are negative. So I guess I’ll end with a “thank you” rather than an “I’m sorry”. Thank you for reading this, if you did. Thank you for being patient with me, if you are. I genuinely appreciate it.

#just me

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seo19107 · 6 years

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Does Content Marketing Actually Work?

Did you know there are 300-500 new web pages created every minute of every day? If that's not cause for reflection on the value of content marketing, I don't know what is.

Confession time. There’ve been a few times where I’ve found myself asking (or exclaiming):

Does content marketing actually work?

It’s possible this existential crisis was related to a full week spent writing blog posts attempting to espouse the need for the latest organizational software. But there was and is a part of me serious about trying to understand “my place” in the marketing world. Does the work I do as a content marketer really support and impact the overall success of a business, or am I shouting with a chorus of others into the proverbial void?

If you’re looking for some compelling or reassuring stats, our friends over at Content Marketing Institute have a great set of quant-data to share with your boss. Maybe even follow up with some of the strategies from our post on how to sell content strategy to your boss. So by the numbers, that’s a “yes, content marketing does work.” But if we already have the numbers as proof, how could I still have lingering questions about the value of adding more and more content on behalf of great brands?

One powerful statistic from this round-up that jumped out at me is attributed to Neil Patel:

Content marketing leaders experience 7.8 times more site traffic than non-leaders

Whenever I read a statistic like this, I start thinking backward to what it actually took to become part of the “leaders” group. Successful brands that are also purveyors of amazing content makes me wonder: which came first, the success or the content? The answer to that quandary is beyond the scope of this post, but it’s worth observing that they’re most certainly correlated, though causation is often tough to prove.

Okay, last question, I promise:

WHY does content marketing actually work?

After some soul searching, and re-reading my co-worker Cate McGehee’s awesome post on setting measurable KPIs to gauge the ROI of your content, I honestly believe the answer is yes, content marketing works…when it’s done correctly.

To me and to the team at Portent, “doing content marketing correctly” means connecting with your target audience through empathic storytelling, while keeping in mind what a successful interaction means to your organization. For some, a “like” on Social or a reTweet is an indication that their content marketing strategy is working, while others are looking for a larger return on investment (like a sale or subscription confirmation). Again, if you’re looking for help thinking through how and what to measure for content, start here.

Courtesy of Cate McGehee

For me (and part of what gets me excited about coming to work at Portent in the morning), effective content marketing makes readers think and feel something new. By extension, I’m a huge believer in the impact of storytelling (or D&D style World Building, if you’re Ian Lurie) as a means to meaningfully and impactfully engaging with an audience. To become one of the coveted “content marketing leaders”.

For example, my favorite parts of the Olympics (besides the obviously impressive feats of athletic strength) are the P&G tribute ads to the mothers of the Olympians. My heart surges and my eyes well with tears watching the moms make sacrifices for their children to pursue their dreams of Olympic glory. I’m not responding to Proctor and Gamble, purveyor of consumer goods; I’m responding to the reminder of the everyday struggle families (mothers in particular) weather to support their kids. That Proctor and Gamble happens to manufacture dozens of common household goods is second to the feelings I now associate with their ads.

Why do we connect with stories?

On a biological level, our brains are literally wired to respond to stories and narratives. Viewing or experiencing emotional stories triggers the production of two specific hormones: cortisol and oxytocin. Cortisol is a stress hormone and grabs the attention of the viewer, while the release of oxytocin promotes feelings of empathy and connect, which researchers say may make viewers “more generous and trusting.” MRIs have shown that our brains respond the same way to hearing a story as they do to actually experiencing it, which is good news for content marketers. Bottom line: storytelling in content marketing is effective because our brains crave stories.

Why use storytelling?

Stories are how we figure out what’s going on, why we feel the way we do, and what to do with the information we’re given. Consciously or not, when we read or interact with marketing content, we’re looking to connect with information.

Good stories give us “all the feelings” and said feelings persuade us to form an opinion about a topic, or by extension, a brand. Connecting to a story bigger than oneself is a powerful feeling, which is why emotional responses are a leading indicator of the consumer’s intent to buy.

At the end of 2016, Google released a two minute video compilation of the major highs and lows of the year, as determined by the most popular searches of 2016. The film begins with scenes of chaos, the result of terrorist attacks and military conflict. Even if we didn’t personally live through the events, we are reminded how tumultuous 2016 really was. The video transitions into shots of athletic triumph, of humanity coming together, and support for causes greater than ourselves.

The story this Google video tells us is that through tragedy, pain, and violence there are still messages of hope, reasons to move forward, and the overall presence of love.

If you present a problem with a solution—your solution—the audience is more likely to see themselves (or their company) as the subject within your narrative. Even better news is that they’ll most likely respond to it.

And it doesn’t matter the scale or the topic, storytelling works. Whether you’re shopping for camping gear or a new apartment, you are searching for an element to help complete the story: “becoming one with nature” or “transforming into the sophisticated downtown socialite.”

In the case of Comcast and their campaign to introduce a talking entertainment guide, the story they offer is one of empowerment with their ad, Emily’s Oz.

Beyond the obvious bottom-line goal of convincing viewers to use Comcast, the ad creates a story arc in which anyone can find unique ways to connect with their world. And if they’d like a little help from Comcast, that’s there whenever they’d like it. The message in the story is that Comcast has something for everyone and becoming a Comcast member can impact more than just your entertainment preferences.

When we use content marketing, we work to sell an idea or product without coming right out and screaming “BUY, BUY, BUY!“ Remember the first stat from the Content Marketing Institute article: 200 million people now use ad blockers.”

The ads or marketing campaigns that work best are not those that interrupt or pester us with unrelatable messages. The ads we remember and respond to are the ones where we can see ourselves as the hero, or at the very least, the co-star. Give the reader an opportunity to see themselves in the narrative, and you’ve gained a customer or at very least, a fan.

The reasons the two examples above, Google and Comcast, are so compelling is that they present simple concepts:

Love conquers hate

Perceived limitations don’t have to be limiting

Nowhere in the ad does Google encourage viewers to use the search engine, they just tell us the story of a hectic 2016, reinforced with examples. The same with Comcast: Emily may not have her sight, but she has her imagination. When we respond to ads like these, we are responding to the message that the brand puts forth, and when we buy from or use these brands we’re buying into the message they represent.

How to tell if the stories you’re telling are making an impact

The other half of doing content marketing the right way is knowing when and deliberately measuring how your content is successful. That means identifying and tracking metrics to determine when your content is achieving the desired impact.

For example, I’m a compulsive reader: I will read anything. Biographies, novels, comment sections, instructional manuals, the back of a shampoo bottle. If copy is involved, I am likely to consume it.

As an obsessive reader, you can gauge my successful interaction with a piece of content with two questions:

Did I get to the end of the piece?

Did I learn something?

If I answer yes to one or both of these questions, I consider that a successful piece of content.

The challenge for marketers is to create a content strategy that drives us to produce the right pieces, distribute them to the right people, and to define what we consider to be a successful interaction with content. Beyond editorial calendars, your content strategy needs to include clear definitions for your KPIs or content measurement criteria, so that you know you’re not stepping back in front of that proverbial void, preaching to no one.

In addition to KPIs, A/B testing content can be very enlightening when determining whether a particular piece of content is achieving desired results. Savvy content marketers will take the time to prepare multiple versions or test updated content against existing content to hone in on which pieces of content audiences are responding to. It’s important to remember that you should have more than one KPI. And, as your business grows, so should your metrics.

Easy ways to utilize storytelling in your content

There are endless ways to tell stories through marketing outside of the traditional marketing content, like long-form blogs and white papers. Good stories sell us more than soft drinks—they sell us ideas and concepts.

Here are a few areas of your content where you can inject storytelling, no matter how small:

Headlines

An impactful headline gets to the point and attracts the reader’s attention. It might also be the only thing the reader remembers, so don’t waste the opportunity to make an impact. NPR has a great checklist for putting together headlines, and includes advice like making your headlines specific, easy to understand, and capture the spirit of the story.

Product descriptions

If ever there were a place to tell a story or give the reader aspirational feelings about what you sell, a product description is that place. Of course, some products and service lend themselves more readily to action-packed narratives. For example, REI’s website is not trying to sell outdoor gear. Rather, it’s an overarching, how-to guide for adventure seekers, regardless of their experience levels. Consumers browsing through outdoor equipment are looking to fulfill a story they have in their mind: one where they’re the star of an action-packed trip. Storytelling in product descriptions can be as simple as leading the reader to conclude that they, too, can conquer any mountain…if they have the right hiking boots. Product descriptions don’t sell a product, they sell the idea of what one can do with the product.

Lists

Perhaps not the most intuitive part of storytelling via content, but hear me out.

A list can tell a very succinct, organized story.

Using lists to your advantage means presenting ideas and concepts to a consumer and allowing them to draw their own conclusions about what comes next in the story. Additionally, lists are cost effective and require less time to both write and consume. With the advent of the internet, readers have a shorter attention spans, so a list with catchy copy and supporting images cuts right to the point. Plus, a good list gives you plenty of opportunities to link to other parts of your site to continue crafting a story. For examples of entertaining, engaging lists used in content marketing, look no further than the impact of the BuzzFeed listicle. Readers respond to this type of content because it gives them the freedom to attach meaning to the parts of the list that resonate most with them.

Templates

Giving away a free bit of advice or sample of what your service does shows prospective clients that you know what you’re talking about, and you’re willing to back it up with evidence. A guide or template that walks the consumer through the steps needed to achieve desired results shows that you know what you’re talking about. Organizational software company Lucidchart offers free diagram templates on its website. This allows users to experience the product before they commit to anything long-term.

Start telling a story, any story.

The best storytellers have honed their craft with years of practice. And while some may seem like natural-born public speakers, or authors, or designers, the impactful ones know that practice makes perfect. They also know that hitting the nail on the head the first time is unlikely, which is why they constantly test their material. For every decent headline you read I can personally assure you there were somewhere precisely between 3 and 300 throw-away headlines that came first.

Not every story will be a winner, propelling you to the rarified air of “content marketing leader” of your category (We should all be so lucky.) But having the courage to press on and keep telling stories will dictate whether or not (and how) your content influences audiences. The stories you develop and share in your content marketing pieces don’t have to be everything to everyone. They only have to resonate enough with your audience to persuade them to like, share, follow, or eventually buy what you’re selling.

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#Does Content Marketing Actually Work?

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seo75074 · 6 years

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Does Content Marketing Actually Work?

Did you know there are 300-500 new web pages created every minute of every day? If that's not cause for reflection on the value of content marketing, I don't know what is.

Confession time. There’ve been a few times where I’ve found myself asking (or exclaiming):

Does content marketing actually work?

One powerful statistic from this round-up that jumped out at me is attributed to Neil Patel:

Content marketing leaders experience 7.8 times more site traffic than non-leaders

Okay, last question, I promise:

WHY does content marketing actually work?

Courtesy of Cate McGehee

Why do we connect with stories?

Why use storytelling?

The story this Google video tells us is that through tragedy, pain, and violence there are still messages of hope, reasons to move forward, and the overall presence of love.

In the case of Comcast and their campaign to introduce a talking entertainment guide, the story they offer is one of empowerment with their ad, Emily’s Oz.

The reasons the two examples above, Google and Comcast, are so compelling is that they present simple concepts:

Love conquers hate

Perceived limitations don’t have to be limiting

How to tell if the stories you’re telling are making an impact

As an obsessive reader, you can gauge my successful interaction with a piece of content with two questions:

Did I get to the end of the piece?

Did I learn something?

If I answer yes to one or both of these questions, I consider that a successful piece of content.

Easy ways to utilize storytelling in your content

Here are a few areas of your content where you can inject storytelling, no matter how small:

Headlines

Product descriptions

Lists

Perhaps not the most intuitive part of storytelling via content, but hear me out.

A list can tell a very succinct, organized story.

Templates

Start telling a story, any story.

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#Does Content Marketing Actually Work?

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emulatingrizal-blog · 7 years

Text

The advent of spring spurs the rebirth of hyacinths

MANICIO, Amabelle O.

2014-27445

Nene was 16 years old when she thought that she had to experience the colors of Manila. Her tiyas and tiyos who came to visit often told her of stories and adventures they experienced in town. Some of them were of near death experiences in the hands of Spaniards retold by the people as jokes or funny stories. Some of them were happy encounters, successes in their business endeavors or love affairs. She knew they were at war and she understood that the Spanish had long since occupied the country. She lived well enough with her parents in a secluded rural area where she witnessed the abuses that her neighbors went through. In fact, she was slapped and thrown here and there when they couldn't pay the tithes required. She's outgrown her monochrome town and has learned to be ambitious. She was driven to fulfill her own destiny- somewhere that flourished and brimmed with opportunities.

Her parents saw her off before she rode the bus headed to San Diego. She was beyond excited and would be staying at her tiya Marites’ home for the time being. Their agreement lasted until she got a job and hopefully, some accommodations too. A few days later. on her way home from buying vegetables from the market and other such errands, she encounters a squabble between two wealthy looking Donyas in the street. They seem to be arguing about such a trivial issue regarding which friar held the best sermon during religious services. Nene didn’t mean to interrupt but she happened to understand Padre Damaso’s sermon more than Padre Salvi’s talk last week at Church. The two ladies were almost screaming over a trivial matter and Nene couldn’t stop herself from speaking her mind.

"Padre Salvi stutters too much, you get lost in thoughts while listening to him speak" Nene blurts out.

There was long minute of silence until Donya Consolacion laughed her heart out.

"I like you little girl, what's your name?" Donya Consolacion asked after catching her breath from laughing too hard.

"Nene..." she answered, surprised by the turn of events.

"Well, this might seem random but I happen to have fired a maid earlier, why don't you try working for me?"

Nene's face lights up and immediately she says yes to the proposition. The Donya seemed to be a little on the mean side, considering the fact that she just fired a random maid earlier. Whatever the circumstances may be, Nene was desperate to start anew and a job is exactly the first thing in her agenda.

Her first day was a nightmare. She broke a few plates which she hid from the Donya, she pissed off the other maids for being too opinionated and she managed to get the table arrangement wrong . Her second day however was a bit easier, she prided herself in being a fast-learner and she managed to keep her mouth shut whenever she wanted to badmouth a few maids for their stupidity. The days and months pass and Nene becomes the favorite of the Donya. She was often tasked to accompany her in Church, in walks and even in exclusive dinner parties. She found that they often shared the same opinion in matters such as religion or politics and the Donya kept her by her side because of their similar stand on issues. So it was no surprise at all when the Donya decided to confide her problems on marriage and the alperez. They seem to have long lost the honeymoon phase and crashed straight into the fighting phase. It was blatant to everyone in the house that the couple fought everyday as they heard the shouts from the thin walls. At times, they heard screams of pain and objects being thrown around; it was their job to mind their own business and pay it no mind.

Nene was different. She was used to meddling but she learned to suppress herself. This time, she only helped the Donya when she applied concealer to cover the bruises. In rare moments, she comforted the Donya when she cried and screamed of pain. They developed a sort of camaraderie but she knew that she was merely a maid and that their statuses were still worlds apart.

She does not hate the Donya but there are moments when she condemns her and does not share the same beliefs. She keeps her thoughts inside. After all, she needs to earn her trust and keep the respect of the other maids in the house.

A usual afternoon takes place in San Diego. Nene tunes out the daily squabble of Donya Victorina and Donya Consolacion. The squabble turns into agreement when a certain Maria Clara comes into their view. Both women badmouth her but Nene knows that it is their insecurities talking. She admires Maria Clara for her beauty and talent but she would never tell the Donya that.

She meets Maria Clara in an exclusive dinner party organized by Kapitan Tiago. She excuses herself from the Donya, claiming that she needs to go to the bathroom. She opts for the balcony instead where she finds Maria Clara staring into the garden view below. They talk about trivial matters and their shared disgust for dinner parties and the games that wealthy people play. Nene was amazed to find that Maria Clara treated her like a friend and not someone below her rank. She was thankful to have found a new friend.

On her days-off, she spends time with Maria Clara, reading books at her place, eating treats and drinking expensive tea. Sometimes, Ibarra comes over to hang out with them. She doesn't feel like she's third-wheeling the couple as Ibarra is equally nice to her. Though she knows that when she leaves, the two would spend their time attached to the hip.

It had been a normal day when she heard the devastating news. Donya Consolacion was laughing loudly at the kitchen, having brought one of her friends over.

" I know it's unfortunate but it serves her well. What the hell was she doing going to marketplaces when she has maids to that for her" Donya chuckles as she tells her friend.

"Poor Maria Clara, she was too young to die."

"I'm sure nothing would happen because it was an accident, whoever shot that drug user won't be put to jail, he just has a bad aim that other people got caught in the crossfire."

Nene was used to meddling, but this time she wished that she didn't overhear the conversation. She reads the newspaper a little later and rips it to shreds. Her only friend in an unfamiliar place, dead in the war on drugs. Maria Clara was only going to the marketplace to buy some food when a drug user was shot in front of her. A stray bullet found its way through her chest and she died in proximity of the drug user. An innocent life lost.

She meets Ibarra on her day off, seemingly lifeless on his couch- there were bottles of alcohol littered on the floor. He was wearing a suit and his tie was loose as though he had pulled it off in a haste. It was only seeing the picture he made that Nene burst into tears, and they held onto each other all through the night.

When morning came, Ibarra brought out some bread for them to eat. They shared breakfast in silence, still mourning the loss of a loved one.

A few days later, Ibarra shows Nene his plans for the Philippines, starting with San Diego. He tries to get over the void that Maria Clara left in his heart by creating elaborate plans for rehabilitation centers. Ibarra surveyed the area and found empty spots where he could build the centers. He also arranged a systematic plan for the drug users. Stopping them from using drugs would not be enough, Ibarra argues that the treatment should be a long-term solution so that it could prevent relapse.

Nene, who was impassive about the drug problem in the Philippines now started to see the adverse effects of the war on drugs. At first, she thought that it would be a great solution leading to a safer environment. She thought that she wasn’t affected, nothing could possibly harm her as long as she stayed away from drugs. She was wrong. She now understood the weight of the situation. Innocent lives are lost and the victims of the drug war are mostly poor people who are unable to defend themselves. Justice and human rights were undermined as violence reigned free in the country. She needed to do something, she needed to change and help Ibarra in his vision to reach a better future.

On her days-off, Nene started to travel with Ibarra in search of doctors and effective medications. Sometimes, Nene doesn’t go back home in time and Donya Consolacion reprimands her heavily. She couldn’t care less because she was doing more important things than cleaning the house and helping the Donya apply her makeup. She started to lose enthusiasm in her job and this pushed the Donya to her tipping point and she fired her in front of the other maids in order to humiliate her.

Because of this Ibarra left the country with Nene to raise funds and research the issue further. They gathered a team that could handle behavioral counseling for the users. They needed to raise money to buy medical equipment and build the rehabilitation centers. They also gave importance to evaluation and post-treatment procedures to ensure the prevention of relapse and mental health problems.

They returned a few years later, Ibarra changed his name to Simoun and became a wealthy jeweler. Nene, on the other hand, changed her name to Anna and posed as Simoun’s wife and assistant. Together, they sold jewelry to the upper class and found out which wealthy families dealt with drug use. Together, they started their plan to solve the drug problem in the Philippines and rid the nation of its violent approach.

While fighting for human rights and helping Ibarra create rehabilitation centers, Nene starts to falls in love with him. She confessed her love to Ibarra the night before they returned home to the Philippines. However, Ibarra cannot let go of his love for Maria Clara even after her death. He told Nene that she was a friend he treasured but her love for Maria Clara will always remain in his heart. He was not ready to let her go and so Ibarra gave Nene his bracelet as a promise that he would think about the possibility of change in their relationship after they help solve the drug problem in the Philippines. It was a silver chain with a small plate with his name engraved on it. It was simple and Nene held it close to her heart.

Nene understood Ibarra’s rejection but after a while, she started to feel defeated. She loves Ibarra deeply but she cannot replace Maria Clara even if she was gone and out of the picture. It was frustrating and depressing for Nene to continue working with him and not getting what she deeply desired. After all, she was ambitious and she worked hard to get what she wanted in life. Being unable to acquire Ibarra’s love was a hard hit not only to her feelings but also to her ego. This only added to her problems because as the two of them managed to build five rehabilitation centers throughout the country, it was clear that this was not enough. People continued to die and extrajudicial and vigilante killings still persisted. All of their efforts remained unnoticed by the majority of the people and the government was unrelenting despite the protests that they arranged.

Nene was starting to feel the brunt of their hard work. All their efforts seem to be wasted on deaf ears and impassive citizens. She was starting to lose hope.

Time passes but wounds remain unhealed- it was the day of Maria Clara’s death anniversary.

On her way to a flower shop, Nene walks along her old place of work- Donya Consolacion’s house. Since she was Anna, she figured she could sell her some jewelry and gain her favor again. The Donya invites her inside and she notices that there are already some people lounging on the sofa. Over tea, a few of the Donya’s friends mention that it was Maria Clara’s death anniversary.

While laughing about the matter, the Donya divulges the truth on Maria Clara’s death. She told the group that she asked her men to plant drugs in Maria Clara’s home, then she immediately disclosed the story to the police. She wasn’t expecting that she would be killed since she was rich but apparently giving the police a few wads of cash would be enough.

When asked why she did it, Donya’s answer was simple; her husband was taking interest in Maria Clara and she couldn’t lose him over her. She needed his wealth and support and he could take that away from her if Maria Clara got close with him. Her death wasn’t an accident. It was an elaborate plan and Nene never felt contempt as much as she did at that moment.

Unbeknownst to Ibarra, Nene started to create a plan as her last resort. She needed to create an impact where people would really start to see things differently. She plants drugs on Donya Consolacion’s room in order to implicate her. However, she did not get any punishment or threats as she bribed the policemen.

As the Donya surveyed her room, she finds a silver-chained bracelet with a name engraved on a small plate. Donya Consolacion vows to plan her revenge and she hires a gunman to kill Ibarra. However, she knows that Ibarra has left the country and has not come back since then. She needs to find the owner of the bracelet in order to plot her revenge.

She invites her friends again to share her story. She observes their accessories and finds that it has a similar design. The jewelry were all simple silver chains with different charms, trinkets or name plates. She asks them where they bought it and they all had the same answer, Simoun the jeweller.

A few days later, in front of a rehabilitation center, Nene hears a gunshot. She runs to the front of the building and sees that Ibarra has been shot in the arm. Immediately, she goes to protect him and gets multiple gunshots on her back, falling towards him. The people started to gather and the gunman escapes on his motorcycle.

Ibarra frantically searches his phone to call an ambulance. He shouts for help but to no avail, the people were merely spectators but he could see that some people were trying to call for help.

It was on the way to the hospital where Nene loses her life, her hand clutching Ibarra’s as he whispered, “ I can’t lose you too, stay with me Nene.”

Slowly, her grip loosens and she smiles, her view of the man she loves distorted by her own tears.

Her last words had been a simple “I’m sorry.”

A few years later, Ibarra’s project comes to fruition and people are starting to change their views. With the death of Nene, the people start to fight for their rights in order to prevent more innocent killings and vigilante crimes.

When Nene moved to San Diego, she didn’t become rich and famous. Instead, she helped the nation in her own little way. She became a beacon of change and hope for the country. She was a hyacinth flower in full bloom.

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