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ultraacherries · 7 months

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Need - jude bellingham 🍒

this is my first time writing a fic so my grammar and spelling is horrible lol i’m open to criticism so feel free to tell me what i should improve on !! if you want to leave suggestion all feel free !!

Him wanting you was an understatement.

He needed you.

He needed to ruin you in every way possible.

He needed to undress the innocence that wrapped around you like a cloth and taint you with every sin known to man.

He needed to break every part of you and then piece you back together with love that is on the edge of consuming him.

The lustful attention thrown at you did nothing to sedate the thoughts of having you to himself, your very being belonging to him. Only him.

Everyone could see it, from his unwavering longing gazes, to his protective touches, everyone but you. Your oblivious nature didn’t mean your feelings towards him were platonic like they once were.

You started to feel a sudden shift when Jude moved to real madrid, his confidence and physique filled you with an indescribable feeling, one you’ve never felt before, his friendship was always something you treasured dearly but now you found yourself craving for something more.

You might be oblivious however he wasn’t. He saw the way you’d blush when he’d hold your hand protectively guiding you through a crowd or when you clenched your thighs together as you watch him working out. But he knew you wasn’t ready, although your thoughts mirrored his, your thoughts were clouded with confusion as to what these emotions were. He was willing to wait for you, rejecting the urge to destroy his years of self control.

That was until he saw you in Rodrygo’s embrace after a match. Jude gathered his things ready to finally see you and sink into your warm presence only to find you with someone else.He was aware that your relationship is nothing more than a “platonic pair”, but his self control cracked as unreasonable rage consumed him.

You felt a hand dragging you out of the stadium, into the parking lot and pulled you into the passenger seat, to then sit on the opposite side without a word.(pretend jude has his license lol)

You were about to question what the hell just happened but his clenched jaw and tight grip on the steering wheel made you hesitate a little. After a few minutes of silence you mustered up the courage to ask.

“Jude are you mad at me” you said quietly. He turned towards you with a dark look that softened a little as soon as he saw the soft gaze directed at him almost forgetting that you where in the arms of another.

He turned away refusing to let your eyes deter him and asked “what were you doing with Rodrygo baby” his calm tone that once offered you comfort now fills you with unease.

“Rodrygo is also my friend Jude i was congratulating him on the win” you tilt your head in confusion you didn’t see why you need to offer an explanation.

He lets out a sarcastic laugh that made a shiver run down your spine but that didn’t stop your frustration.

“ i don’t see why you have an issue with this you don’t-” he cuts you off.

“finish that sentence Y/N go on i dare you”

your mouth clamps shut in submission surprising the hell out of you. He exists the car and walks over to your side and opens it. Even his rage couldn’t stop him from taking care of you and it made your heart flutter in your chest.

He takes your hand taking you up to the hotel room where you were staying until you two return back home from Barcelona. He swipes the card key opening the door and pushes you onto the wall beside it.

“Jude ” you’re silenced by the hand the creeps up to your waist. You can feel the anger vibrate off of him and form into a state of desperation.

“i love it when you say my name baby it drives me fucking crazy, ” his voice filled with a need that mirrored your own.

“jude-” he groans which makes your body fill with warmth and shock.

“did his arms feel this good y/n” he questions as he rests his head in the crook of your neck, his breath ticking the special spot that made squirm.

“n-no” his hands go up his jersey that you were wearing and he rests them on your stomach. The heat of your body clashes with his cool skin leaving your mind hazy.

“you’re already gone, and i’ve barely touched you sweetheart” he chuckles in a way you found so attractive it made you freeze in his hold. This was wrong he was your friend.

“jude ”you whine and his grip on you tightens.

“hmm” he groans into your neck again heightening your arousal.

“friends don’t” you were to shy to carry on, to admit what’s happening between the two of you. However, Jude wanted to hear you say it. He needed to hear you say it.

“best friends don’t what ? i wanna hear you say it baby go on” he looked up at you but his gaze was too much to bare so you look away.

“b-best friends don’t touch each other like this” you stuttered. Deep down he knew you were right but his frustration was clouding his judgment.

Your chest moving with every breath, the slight tremble your body omits is enough for him to bend you over right now and have his way with you.

"okay then ill back away and we will pretend this didnt happen" his voice so soft it sounded like a whisper, he saw the disappointment quickly surround the lust in your eyes. Jude felt his shorts tighten around him begging for release.

"is that what you want y/n you want us to be just friends?" he taunts as he raises those hands further up your body. God those hands drove you crazy you never want him to let you go.

The undiscribable feelings you felt now made sense, you wanted everything he wanted to give you, forgetting and remaining in the comfort of friendship was the last thing you desire.

You desire him. The words you want to say were stuck in your throat, the ability to express them were always denied in his presence, so you look away only for him to turn your head so you can face him again.

" nah baby i want you looking straight at me" his grip on your chin is firm. His eyes overwhelmed with determination. "tell me" he says.

"i-i dont want that jude" he gives you a nod in encouragement telling you to go on, which makes you drip with arousal and confidence which leads you to utter;

"i want you jude" you take step closer even though it was impossible with how intertwined your bodies were.

" i need you jude" you whimper in his hold as he moans at the juxtaposing innocence and lust swimming in your eyes. He brings you into a long awaited kiss that conveying the burning desire and desperation, making you both dizzy.

Jude’s thoughts we’re preoccupied with one thing…

You needed him.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #fanfic #footballer x reader #jude bellingham x y/n #first time writing #help idk what im doing

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melis-writes · 1 year

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What about a rewrite of your infamous Carlo punching Victoria scene but this time around it’s set during Victonny, and how Sonny would react & act 👀👀👀

Set in Victonny times, what if Victoria was married to Sonny and such a thing occurred? 😳 We all know originally in Moth to Flame that Sonny came downstairs moments later after hearing but that was after Michael stepped in… This time, it’s Sonny as requested!! 😥😅

If You Ever Touch My Wife…

“No,” Connie scowls at Carlo, crossing her arms. “I’m not making you a damn thing! Not when you walked out on the children and I last night for dinner and now you’re back late smelling like another whore!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, huh?” Carlo sneers, grabbing Connie’s wrist harshly. “I wasn’t asking, and I sure as hell don’t have to explain anything to you, you little bitch.”

“Carlo, stop,” you hiss, beginning to approach the two.

“Hey—” Carlo points a finger at you, “stay out of this. This is between my wife and I’m the one—” Carlo begins to shake Connie by her arms, “asking questions! This isn’t how you’re gonna treat me, you brat! Get me my fucking dinner!”

“NO!” Connie shrieks back, trying to fight against Carlo’s grip. “Let me go! Let me—”

“Carlo, STOP!” You cry out, attempting to intercept between the two to block an incoming blow towards Connie’s face. “Get your hands off of her!”

In a split second as adrenaline shoots through you, you gasp in surprise and flinch back feeling a heavy, sharp force strike you straight in the face.

The cool metal of Carlo’s wedding band scrapes against your cheek as you stumble and fly back from the impact of his punch—landing on your side upon the kitchn floor with a thud.

“Vaffanculo!” (Fuck you!) You hear Carlo shout back to you.

Only able to let out a pained grunt from the faint taste of blood between your teeth, you clutch onto your face and force your eyes open only to see a horrified Connie attempting to pull Carlo back and away from you only for a moment until you realize who they’re looking at.

Just across the kitchen and upon the bottom of the staircase, Sonny’s eyes meet with Connie, Carlo’s, then yours; Sonny’s eyes filled with an indescribable rage, boiling with fury.

“S-Sonny—” You attempt to speak, finding your words to be slurred through a mix of sharp pain and shaky breaths.

Your face throbs and aches from all sides and you can feel the tip and sides of your nose pulsating. There’s a sensation of heat stinging over your cheeks as blood drips down from your nose and onto your chin.

“You’re dead,” Sonny clenches his fists tightly, glowering at Carlo. “You’re fucking dead!”

The last thing you see before Sonny practically leaps at Carlo is his darkening expression consumed with bitter anger that only softens for a split second at the sight of you trembling on the floor and attempting to stop your nose from bleeding.

“SONNY!” Connie screams, scurrying back and away from both him and Carlo. “Oh my God!”

Sonny’s expression spells out nothing sort of “murder” while focusing on beating Carlo to a pulp and nothing more—completely catching you off guard.

Shocked and stunned, you don’t even realize that Connie’s kneeled down by your side attempting to comfort you as the only thing the two of you can do is watch Sonny’s anger and presence transform fully into cruelty.

Tears stream down your face from the unimaginable pain throbbing in your face every passing second as you clutch onto Connie, flinching with each blow that Sonny strikes Carlo with.

Pinning Carlo against the wall with his hand wrapped tightly around his throat, Sonny delivers punch after punch over Carlo’s face and aims for his nose—hitting harder and harder each time until you and Connie hear a sickening crack.

Carlo squirms helplessly against Sonny’s death choke grasp, howling in pain taking hit after hit before he crumples to the floor.

Everything seems to occur before you both in a matter of mere seconds as Sonny has no intention on cutting Carlo even a second’s worth of a break to compose himself and rise up again.

Kicking at Carlo’s ribcage and face, Sonny continues beating down on him and it’s only when Carlo attempts to reach for Sonny’s ankle does Sonny grab Carlo up from the ground by his shirt and throw him with every ounce of strength in his being against the wall again.

You can hear Connie saying your name and gently holding onto your arm just as Sonny turns around and huffs out in frustration—smearing off Carlo’s blood from his knuckles.

“Victoria, Victoria…”

“Vic,” Sonny grits his teeth, immediately kneeling down in front of you.

Your vision blurs from tears uncontrollably pooling in your eyes and as you attempt to speak back to Sonny, all you can let out are pained whimpers taking hold of you.

“Vic, baby, look at me. Look at me—God, Connie, go get her a fucking doctor! Right now!” Sonny gently embraces you in his arms, pulling you up on his lap. “Vic? Open your eyes. C’mon, c’mon—open your eyes, look at me…”

You let out a shuddering gasp, succumbing to the pounding and aching pain in your head as your eyes roll back and you slip into a state of unconsciousness.

“I called, I called!” Connie rushes back into the kitchen, flinching at the sight of an unconscious Carlo crumpled up against the wall. “Doctor Katherine is on her way—oh my God, Victoria! Is she okay?!”

“She’s unconscious,” Sonny rakes a hand through his curls, holding you against his body. “God fucking damn it! She’s pregnant, Connie. If anything happens to my baby because of Carlo, I swear to God I’ll—”

“He’s not breathing,” Connie gasps out; her hands beginning to tremble. “Sonny? Sonny… He’s not breathing.”

Sonny rolls his eyes, glancing back at Carlo’s limp body. “No, he’s fine, trust me. And his ass can stay there until I get Mike—wait until he hears about all of this. Fucking piece of fucking shit!” Sonny carefully scoops you up into his arms. “Look at what he did to my fucking wife! What the fuck happened here, huh?!”

“She tried to defend me,” Connie’s bottom lip trembles as she can barely speak properly throughout her sobs. “All she did was try to help me and then Carlo—”

“I’m gonna have to apologize to you in advance before Pop makes me fuckin’ do it anyway,” Sonny looks back at his sister. “For making you a widow.”

Almost two hours pass before you begin to regain consciousness in bed, snuggled in to keep warm by Sonny with the blood gently and carefully cleaned off by your husband as Doctor Katherine arrived and began to check your vitals.

Every time the wet cloth Sonny was using to clean your face brushed up against your bruise, it only spiked another rush of anger through him to see the sight of his injured wife unconscious because of what Sonny’s brother-in-law did to you.

“Is she gonna be alright?” Sonny’s tone of voice is still forceful.

“She will,” Doctor Katherine confirms, noting the swelling over your cheek. “She’s bruised and will only feel its discomfort, but I promise you that she’s doing okay.”

Sonny sighs in relief under his breath, holding your hand in his. “Jesus…”

“She was hit very hard and if you look carefully…” Doctor Katherine frowns, gesturing towards your bruise. “There’s a mark here that was probably from the impact of a ring or a piece of metal. She was hit very close to the face and might have even ended up suffering from a minor concussion if she hit her head on the floor.”

“I don’t even wanna think of that shit,” Sonny shakes his head, kissing the back of your hand. “It was either gonna be to her or my sister. Did you account for that rat?”

“Mr. Corleone…” Doctor Katherine frowns, straightening her posture. “Mr. Rizzi’s state is entirely different matter.”

“I didn’t ask you that,” Sonny narrows his eyes. “I asked you about his state.”

“He’s dead, sir."

“Great,” you hear Sonny mutter under his breath, watching you intently as you ever so gently stir from unconsciousness, attempting to open your eyes. “And if there’s anythin’ else you need to do…”

“No, sir. But please call me in if she’s having trouble with anything or you need my help,” Doctor Katherine gets the hint from Sonny he wants to be alone with you by the time you regain consciousness—beginning to exit the room.

“Victoria,” Sonny mumbles against the back of your hand, peppering kisses over it. “Baby..”

“Mm…” You whine quietly in pain, gazing at Sonny through half opened eyes.

“I know, I know,” Sonny frowns, “stings and hurts like a motherfucker, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, baby. That bastard’s not gonna hurt you or Connie ever again. I made fucking sure of it.”

You have neither the strength nor the energy inside of you to speak in any way, respond or even react—simply staring at Sonny in a state of dizziness as if you were in a dream, but hearing everything he has to say.

“I’m gonna take of you, baby,” Sonny tells you, nodding. “Promise. Not gonna let anyone lay a finger on my wife—ever. I’mma take good care of you, you’ll see.”

#godfather au #victonny #sonny corleone #santino corleone #sonny corleone x reader #moth to flame fic #moth to flame fanfic #prompts #moth to flame au #godfather x reader #not canon

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bihanarms · 1 year

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Chapter 7: Echoes of Doubt

Here is chapter 7 ;) sorry if there's any mistake !

A few seconds had passed, and Krauser remained crouched in front of the young woman. His insistent gaze awaited an explanation from her. Meanwhile, (Name) tried to catch her breath, still surprised that the man in front of her had not finished her off or handed her over to the sect.

She took a deep breath, her face still colored with pain and fatigue.

"I heard them while I was trying to escape. They're using you-" she said, taking another breath. "I understood that you kidnapped the president's daughter?" she finished with a hint of disgust in her voice. "That poor girl..."

Suddenly, Krauser's knife blade pointed at the journalist's throat. She swallowed hard and raised her eyes to meet Krauser's gaze, which emanated a rage she had never seen before.

"You're not in a position to ask me questions." the man said aggressively as he gently lifted (Name)'s chin with his knife. "Just keep telling me what you heard."

The pressure of the sharp blade on her skin was still there, and (Name) knew she couldn't act tough. She was going to have to follow the former Major's orders for now.

"I understood that even after your kidnapping, the sect leader still didn't trust you-" she said.

"I don't give a damn about that old man. Get to the part where Wesker says he's using me." he said, cutting off the young woman. His gaze was increasingly filled with hatred as she continued to speak.

"He told this woman word for word that he was just using you to get the virus sample, and that after that, they both planned to get rid of you."

The tension in the air was palpable, and Krauser did not move for a few moments, his knife still pointed at the journalist's throat. (Name) could feel the coldness of the blade against her skin.

Suddenly, the man stood up, removing his weapon from the young woman's throat. She took a deep breath, feeling the pressure released from her neck before starting to cough violently. Her vision became blurred as she guessed blood stains on the floor from her coughing. Not this damn thing again...

"That bitch in red dress... I never trusted her." Krauser muttered as he paced around, thinking about what he had just heard. "But Wesker..."

A slight laughter suddenly escaped the young woman's lips. "Is it amusing to you?" He said authoritatively, eyes still filled with resentment as he turned to keep an eye on (Name).

"A little." the young woman replied before coughing one last time, blood staining the corner of her lip.

Her heart raced, her breath suddenly became labored, and she felt a strange sensation rising within her. As she struggled to regain her composure, (Name) felt a sharp pain piercing her head. She placed a hand on her temples, tightly closing her eyes, trying to resist the symptoms that were overtaking her. But the more she fought, the more the pain intensified.

Suddenly, a strange red glow manifested in her pupils. Her eyes had transformed, reflecting the insidious presence of the virus infiltrating her body. An indescribable terror gripped her as she realized she was losing control. Black veins began to appear on her face, gradually spreading throughout her body. They seemed to be the twisted paths through which the virus took hold of her. Every beat of her heart was accompanied by intense pain, as if her veins were contracting and twisting under the grip of the consuming evil.

Despite her fierce will to resist, (Name) felt her strength declining. The virus was winning. And in a strange way, she felt a newfound energy spreading within her, intertwined with the suffering. Her aching muscles seemed to regenerate in an eerie manner, granting her an inexplicable strength.

Rising slowly, she locked eyes with Krauser, an oddly determined gaze piercing through her glowing pupils.

She was now a puppet of darkness, controlled by the virus coursing through her veins, but she felt strangely more powerful than before.

Krauser sensed a growing tension in the air. His gaze hardened even further as he raised his weapon, aiming the barrel directly at the infected woman. His firm and experienced hand demonstrated his usual mastery of situations, but this time, he felt a certain unease. His instincts whispered to him to beware of this new power emanating from her.

"One more step, and I'll shoot."

(Name) abruptly froze at Krauser's threat, but a amused smile spread across her lips. She locked eyes intensely with the former soldier, her glowing pupils reflecting the strange light that now inhabited her being. Her voice, tinged with an uncanny confidence, echoed in the tense air.

"Krauser, even if I kept moving forward, you wouldn't shoot me." Her words resonated with an eerie truth, and she knew it. "After all I've revealed to you, you're afraid, you're starting to doubt, aren't you? You're realizing that everything you've done so far was just the result of manipulation."

Her words seemed to strike the man at his core as she took another step, almost provoking him. And she was right; he didn't shoot. Cracks began to form in his usually confident facade. His eyes scrutinized her face intensely, seeking answers to his own doubts.

"You think you're strong, Krauser, but in reality, you're weak." Her voice dripped with biting irony. "You allowed yourself to be manipulated by those who used you to accomplish their dark designs. You were their puppet, obeying their orders, convinced that you acted out of free will, that your choices were your own following everything that happened to you, but it's all false. They played you like a damn fool. What a shame..."

(Name)'s words hung in the air, creating a palpable unease between the two individuals. Krauser had always been self-assured, convinced of his own strength and choices. But now, that confidence was crumbling, and doubt was seeping in.

"Shut your fucking mouth, or I'll shoot!" he bellowed, struggling to keep his true emotions from showing.

"Then shoot, you fucking coward!" the young woman retorted as she continued to advance towards him, now with her forehead pressed against the barrel of his gun. "Shoot."

His finger was on the trigger, and yet nothing. He still didn't pull it.

"I'll do it." he said.

"You won't." a smirk formed on her face. "And even if you do, then what? Because you've killed me, things will magically get better? Because you've silenced the one who revealed what she heard, the truth will fade away? Spare me the laughter."

A surge of hatred engulfed Krauser as (Name)'s words penetrated deep into his being.

"You make me lau-... Hmph." Suddenly, she seemed to fight to regain control over the infection ravaging her. A glimmer of determination shone in her eyes, and the black veins that had spread throughout her body began to slowly fade away.

A wave of inner strength emanated from her, pushing back the darkness that had consumed her. However, this sudden reclaiming of power took a toll. The last words escaped (Name)'s lips, but barely had she finished her sentence when she abruptly collapsed.

The black veins that had overtaken her body gradually disappeared as she was now laying unconscious on the ground.

#resident evil #resident evil 4 #resident evil remake #leon kennedy #krauser x reader #re4 krauser #krauser #resident evil krauser #jack krauser #major krauser #re4r #re4 #darkside chronicles

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bumblebeehug · 8 months

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i got tagged by @tokkias in a wip game thing for the first time so you bet that i’ll be doing it😼

rules: share the first line (or two or more!) of every current wip you have (that you feel comfortable sharing) and tag some writer friends! feel free to add the titles of your documents if you see fit

i won't be sharing every wip i have bc i wanna rewrite most of them, but here's a few!

untitled The gray block of solid stone stood proudly in the graveyard. Great wizards got great spots in the graveyard, Lucy learned six months ago. Though six months wasn’t a very long time, it had felt like forever when her life turned upside down like this.

big spoon With Natsu Dragneel, physical contact was inevitable. The fire wizard craved other people’s presence like a magnet - when he fought his fists spoke for this craving, and when he didn’t fight he had two people who could satisfy his needs.

nose nuzzles “Why are all my snacks outside their cupboards?”

When Lucy started her day she did not predict this situation. Her kitchen table was barely visible under the five bags of chips, multiple boxes of cookies, the wide assortment of candy and the three bottles of sodas splayed across the wooden surface. She honestly didn’t even know she had all these snacks - Natsu and Happy usually ate them all as soon as they entered the house.

random fic (mom and dad are fighting) Lucy was so unbelievably fed up with Natsu. Even looking at him had her filled with an indescribable rage, practically making her fume. That stupid, idiot man! She had never felt this anger before, not even against a tough enemy she was facing during extra hard missions. No, no words could describe the resentment she felt towards Natsu, not even coming from her, a proper writer.

edolas consequences Oh good lord. Lucy did not anticipate seeing a small replica of herself on the one way road in this random place. And she did not foresee this mini-Lucy calling normal-Lucy “mommy”. Not at all. And even more shocking? The wild pink mane the child carried, that couldn’t belong to anyone other than Natsu Dragneel.

nostalgia and fika “Please, please, PLEASE, let me take a break!”

Lucy almost sobbed as she took another step. A two-day trip to Hargeon was not the best way to break in her new heels, and she honestly never would have picked those shoes if she knew that the “quick walk” Natsu had been talking about, was in fact a hike and not a leisure stroll.

tagging: @thehylianidiot @genavere @moeruhoshi & anyone else who wants to do it!

also, if you do this, feel free to tag me too bc i really wanna see what ppl are working on!

#writers tag #writers tag game #i don't really know my mutuals that well so if i didn't tag you please feel free to join in anyways #like i'm actually begging you #i really really wanna know what you're wips are #i'm curious and nosey. my only traits ever

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shirophantomvox · 3 years

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How Illumi, Hisoka, and Chrollo would react to their S/O in the hospital

Hi, anon! You are welcome to join my Discord Server if you are a fan of Hxh, Voltron, or both! I promise this is a safe environment! This is an interesting topic for sure! To the other anon(s), I am working on your request! This will contain both fluff and angst. I forgot to include Leorio in this, so I’ll include him in the next HxH post. You’ll have to forgive me, I have 2 more requests in my inbox and I am not feeling the best. I just got my second Covid shot and it is hurting like hell. Nevertheless, I encourage you all to get your shot if you can. I will be on this site one and off and I should be on it for real next week. I have run out of ideas to write and I began to think I was annoying people with my HxH content (no one said this I just assumed). This post has 1974 words. After these requests are finished, I plan on doing a character analysis for Leorio.

Anyway, let’s get into the post!

We’ll start with Hisoka this time.

Hisoka

In all honesty, this man has heard of a hospital (since he sends a lot of people to it after fights) but has never been in one.

The signs, floors, staircase numbers, and elevators all confuse him. He has only been in one once when he was a kid and has never been again.

He isn’t a social butterfly in this setting because this is a professional establishment and not a college party. Asking for directions takes quite a toll on him because of his established pride. You know guys act when they want to find a destination on their own and will go miles out of the way instead of just asking for direction.

He doesn’t talk to anyone; all he wants to do is find you and make sure you are alright.

He is the tallest person in the freight elevator. So tall that everyone at turns to look at him at once for at least 10 seconds and turn back around surprised.

“How tall is he,” one of the nurses ask.

“Tall enough to be my house!”

This annoys him. He takes out the Joker card and lays it against his thigh but realizes he cannot make any hasty decisions. His bloodlust was activated merely out of irritation and not by threat. You were on his mind and destroying these worthless humans wasn’t an option for today.

He approached the guest desk and waited for about 2 minutes before he was acknowledged.

“May I help you,” a smug receptionist asked. Wow, these people do not know who they’re talking to.

“I’m here to see y/n.”

“Y/n is in room 345. Go down the hall and to the right all the way down.”

This man nearly ran with a quickness! His jester shoes somehow made the floor shake as he ran.

You were awake, eating the horrible food the hospital provided and watching TV. It seemed like you were doing ok, but you had just been in a car accident. Your arms and right leg were still sore. It was so bad that you’d be fine with Hisoka carrying you everywhere.

When you two are alone in serious public places, he doesn’t play games or tricks. He is often portrayed as a ruthless man, but in settings like this, he places the jokes and games aside for later. When he enters your room, he is silent for 30 seconds. Much too long. He was shocked; he walked around your hospital bed, pulled up a chair, and stared at your cast. It had many names written on it.

“Yes, I am ok.”

“I apologize for not being there for you,” he began to say.

“Shh… it’s ok. This is life. It hurts like hell, but I’m a trooper!”

Admiring your cast and its multiple fonts of handwriting and messages, he grabbed a sharpie marker, wrote his name, with a heart and spade next to it. Surprisingly, his cursive was very neat and legible.

“I didn’t know you knew how to write in cursive! Why don’t you write me letters?”

“I see you every day and it hurts my hand.”

The doctor wouldn’t be in for another 1 ½ hours, so Hisoka used your thigh as a pillow as he took a nap. He had been up for countless nights thinking about you. He was screwing up so bad, Chrollo let him leave early.

“As soon as your better, we will fight again. I won’t go easy on you. You won’t be in the hospital but you get the jest.”

Illumi

Illumi isn’t the type of man to overreact in these types of situations. When you both agreed to date each other, you knew you all were tough cookies. You were aware of the dangers of dating an assassin and he knew about the dangers of dating a bounty hunter. People hated you both and you targeted.

One night you both were caught in a vulnerable state. While you both enjoyed chocolate milkshakes at a laid-back 1950’s styled diner, two men were previously thrown out for fighting. While your back was turned one of those men shot your arm, causing you to carelessly throw your body to the ground due to impact.

While everyone else was screaming, Illumi jumped to the ground and tied his hair tie around your arm to temporarily stop the bleeding.

“Illu, why does it feel cold in here,” you managed to breathe out.

His heart dropped to his stomach for the first time in history.

“Don’t say things like that!”

Illumi is already horrible at displaying emotions, but all he could do is frown in fear. Once the EMS came barling in, he demanded that he ride with you.

Illumi hadn’t experienced anything like this since Killua had been injured when he fell from a tree.

You and he were separated when you were rushed into surgery leaving him alone in the waiting room.

When Illumi is stressed and cannot properly display how he feels, he tends to act in “odd” ways.

He begins to furiously turn pages in magazines or bother the receptions every 2 minutes about the status of your surgery. When the woman finally says that you’re still alive, he tones it down a little.

Illumi is open to conforming advice from strangers; he has been receiving it secretly from strangers. Since Silva was busy abusing him, he often found comfort from “the streets”.

He has a bad habit of pacing back and forth and fidgeting in his seat while horrific images fill his mind. All he has seen is pain and even though he was used to it, he didn’t want you to go through it as well.

While sitting in his seat (finally!) and head in his lap, doubled over indescribable sorrow, a little girl walks up to him with her hands folded and a doll under her arms. Illumi feels her presence and looks up. The girl’s curly hair covered her endearing eyes and her smile is wide.

“They’ll be alright. I just know they will,” turning around returning to her mother, the girl said with confidence.

On cue, Illumi placed his hand over his heart, smiling just a little.

He walked quickly to your room once you were out of surgery.

His speed walk mimics one of a soldier; his left arm in since with his right leg. His shoes echoed throughout the hall.

As soon as he enters the room, he shuts the door harder than usual and gives you a tight embrace. This surprises you! You’re lucky if he lays his head on your shoulder!

Illumi had been working out lately. He wanted to beat you in the “squish the melon” contest. He is very competitive and even if he lost, that doesn’t hurt his ego. Not in the slightest. Since it was just the both of you alone, he bends down to hug you tight, so tight that your face is squished against his.

This behavior is only surprising because he usually doesn’t coddle you even when you get hurt, but this time he realized that you could have died from the gunshot wound.

After that he kissed your forehead and almost simultaneously the doctor barreled in just missing the sweet moment between you and your beau.

Chrollo

When Chrollo is holding meetings with the Phantom Troupe, he always appears to be neutral. That is very important. A leader has to show strength even through the worst/hurtful times of their lives.

Chrollo had gotten a call from Nobunaga that you had gotten hurt on a mission and had actually gotten captured by the enemy. Phinks was able to get you back but you suffered horrible injuries.

This is protocol; they do this for any of the members. The troupe was oblivious to the fact that you and Chrollo were dating. They thought you were here to replace Uvo.

In situations like this, he is calm on the outside but screaming on the inside. Common sense will tell you if you are startled by the news you’ve just received and you begin to drive, you could cause more harm on the way to your destination.

Chrollo is very silent; he doesn’t call to check on your status or anything; he would rather see it for himself.

You were a trooper! After all, you are dating a dangerous robber.

Chrollo already knew what room you were in so he just went.

“I knew I should have kept y/n by my side. Y/n insisted on doing my dirty work that they almost died! How foolish could I have been?” He constantly cursed himself for letting his guard down with you.

He always gave you room to think and complete your own tasks but he can’t help his protective nature; one he has for the troupe but times 10.

His childhood friends had been shot by law enforcers, his home was horrific, and the last thing he needed was for you to be gone. You were keeping him afloat in society.

When he opened the door, Phinks was sitting in a chair, one leg over the other, laughing at a TikTok video.

Nobunaga on the other hand was watching the world news and seemed invested that he didn’t hear Chrollo enter the room. Once they both saw, they stood to their feet.

“Y/n is ok boss. They suffered a few cuts and burns, but they're breathing.”

Chrollo’s straight face remained as he stared at you.

Chrollo’s silence is something the troupe has internalized as a sign of anger, rage, or both. When he didn’t speak and just stared, everyone knew that their next mission was going to be a brutal one.

Chrollo is a man that isn’t afraid to express how he feels. He could cry right now if he wanted to and no one would dare laugh at him or insult him. After all, Nobunaga cried when he realized Uvo was dead.

Nobunaga and Phinks excused themselves as they saw him place his hand over his mouth.

Once the door closed, He pulled up the chair, grabbed your hand, and gently squeezed it. His warmth woke you up instantly and you turned your head. You winced in pain causing Chrollo to jump from his seat, moving to your right side so you wouldn’t turn your head too much.

“I’m glad you're alive, darling. What were you doing putting yourself in danger? Feitan could have handled the beast!”

He isn’t trying to doubt your ability to fight, he’s just concerned for your safety. Even so, why would he insist that you join the spiders?

A tear dropped from his face as he silently kissed your hand three times. You smiled warmly and placed your right left hand on top of his.

“I am fine, boss. You need not worry. I’m a trooper, remember?”

He placed your hand against his dry cheek and continued to kiss it. You were his lifeline and he wanted to spend every moment with you.

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jean-does-not-have-a-horseface · 4 years

Note

Hiiii! I saw you asked for fluffy requests!! I love your writing so i got excited hehe

I just went through a ROUGH breakup, could you write where Levi comforts one of his scouts (or members of his squad) who he likes after she gets dumped?

Thank you!!! Xoxo ❤️❤️❤️

Hey I hope you're feeling better I'm sorry you have to go through this but I'm here if you need anything sweet anon, this really made me write hurt/comfort once again, so I hope you like it.

Pairing: Levi/reader

Tags: eventual fluff, hurt/comfort, takes an unexpected turn that I hope you like

November Sunsets

Levi, ever since he could remember himself, was lonely, neglected by life and stripped of anyone he ever cared about. The cruel unfairness of life was something he was forced to accept from the moment he came out of the womb; whilst other children had a last name to claim themselves with he was just Levi, Kuchel's bastard son.

Thinking back, life was the most unfair for his mother as well. The way he would hear men would treat her, hidden underneath her bed, or sticking his head to her door while supposedly playing with other little bastard children. Children of his fate that he couldn't remember the face of. Did anyone remember his own face? Deemed ugly, unbelievably short, dirty and incapable of being bright, that's what life had set for him from his very first breath.

Everytime he had refused to accept his fate another tragedy would curve it's way on his body and soul, staining him with little reminders of how he should sit back and crawl his way through what was simple meant to be. Indescribable gory deaths had happened before his eyes, taking any blue hue he had noticed and liked away from them. Insufferable agonies in the form of nightmares haunted him during the night, his mind didn't want to let him rest.

His heart had to become cold and hard as stone, but the humane of his nature only managed to plaster this longing of his on his face. Perhaps being human was a punishment everyone endured, whether they were born noble, loved by everyone or in a brothel, with almost no one to want them in this world.

Only two years after he had set foot and is remaining days in the Survey Corps were never certain. He was aware that it was a given profanity at his agreement to join, and egoistically he would have chose this any other day over counting down days in the underground. In that rat hole, he was expected to fall ill and possibly dead at any given time in his late twenties.

He still looked like a phantom in the mirror. Whatever concluded his being was set and done unfairly, from the way his skin was as pale as snow and so sheer that made his purple veins show practically everywhere to his lacking height caused by malnutrition and lack of sunlight. Was it the veins around his lips or the ones under his eyes that perfectly blended with his sacked under eyebags? Was it that his nose was small if looked individually but looked elongated in the context of his face? Maybe it was that he was filled with scars.

Oh, and that he looked atrocious with those dark locks in combination with light eyes.

Despite never doubting his abilities, or letting insecurities get the better of him it was in moments like this that he felt broken.

By setting his clippers down on the sink, after making sure there was no single coarse hair on them, he slipped in his usual light gray button down shirt. He didn't bother to secure any strap of his gear on him yet; it was this early in the morning that no one was probably awake yet, only him and his throbbing head, so strapping himself with the gear could easily be avoided for the time being.

The flames flickered inside his cobblestone fireplace demanding to be fed with fresh logs in exchange for his warmth. His hands worked mechanically, throwing logs I the crevice delicately careful not to fill the room in ashes. With a maneuver stir the flames roared with rage, engulfing the wood almost too pleasantly to eye. He didn't hesitate to plouch down on the wooden floor, legs crossed and hands stretched towards the newfound warmth in an attempt to ease the lingering cold of his fingers.

Usually this was the time for the first tea of the day. Under any other occasion his brain would munch on him for the lack of the hot copper liquid in his stomach, but today was different. He contemplated on weather this mere fire could ever warm up anything other than tea but he refused to seek the therapeutic feeling of hot water entering his body. If he couldn't warm up on the outside why would he put any effort to do so in the inside.

The throbbing in his head ravaged the insides of his skull with striking rushes of pain at random places. When he went to rub on his forehead his ear would screech in ache, testing to see if his patience could handle such tag game.

Refusing to soothe any part of his aching body meant that he'd have to physically suffer throughout the upcoming day. Had he been any more grumpier he would be thinking about assigning everyone with another cleaning task, nontheless it didn't fit the nature of his mood. He felt like locking himself in his office to avoid as much human interaction as possible, he wasn't social to begin with so why shouldn't he be granted some days to recharge his ability to utter anything else than a grunt.

He sighed, head falling to face the floor as his eyes were framed by his ebony locks. He seemed to despise them, today more than ever. Was it because of you? It was a question that puzzled his mind for a couple of days, eating away any spare piece of logic he was ever left with. The only thing he knew, or supposed was that this feelings were probably meant to feel like that, at least for him.

Him, who shall never enjoy a simple pleasure of life such as experiencing the feeling of falling in love and having a lover to tend to his soul's wound. Of course he had to be dense enough to let such opportunity go as only a question arose days after day he'd spent with you. Did he deserve to be loved?

Yet those days with you, those days that he cut absurdly were fidgeting with his mind in the worst way possible, trying to torment him over the memory of your face.

It had started off as a simple admiration of your combat skills. The intimidating brushes oh your skin on his everytime he chose to spare with you out of all member in his squad, the sweat that dripped off of your forehead as your eyes gleamed with the enthusiastic power gathered in your fists.

Then, it was the way your hair flipped off of your shoulder when you would wrap your camel colored jacket on your form under the lingering tingerine lights of the sun setting behind the walls. The way it bounced on your back as you gripped the reins of your horse, leaving small encouraging sounds of victory as it seceeded its training tasks. He had taken notice of how well kept your hair was, always fresh and squeaky clean as it framed your face loosely.

Levi was smitten, wrap around your little finger in the blink of an eye, his nights agonising, his days filled with you mellowy blendind in any scenery and he couldn't get you out of his head. Your affections towards him were meticulously counted at first but he had sat back down and watched as you let yourself go around him, sparring smiles and watery glances to him during meals.

Before he knew it he had found himself longing to be in your arms every single moment of the day, much like a lovestruck teenager. As much as it seemed embarrassing for a man his age to swoon and melt like a candle at the sight of such youthful and sweet woman, he couldn't help it. His loner's manners had started to abandon him in your presence, the persuasion of your soft eyes had him giving in. The sweet touches of your hand on his cheek, allowing his head to rest on your palm as he talked about the enormous work Erwin had assigned him with, curved in his head forever, replaying every time he seeked some form of comfort.

Had it not been for Mike and Hange entering his office unexpectedly that one day he had forgotten to lock, he wouldn't have been forced to leave it all behind to avoid spoiling both his and yours reputation. It haunted him; they way he longed for you as his heart clung into his chest like a prisoner, but his words to you as you cried your eyes out that sunset kept reminding him he was not deserving of anything.

When news spread like a plague in the higher ranks everyone had turned on him and seldomly to you, whispering heart rotting comments. Among them that you were no good for eachother be it due to appearances or the context of your backgrounds. Levi knew the oxymoron of those dynamics, yet why did anyone have to point them out, to make him feel smaller than he was whether it was for teasing or not, he couldn't phantom.

Not only life was unfair to him, he had to strip his own self of the only thing he had a positive effect in his life just to go back to being a what the Scouting Region wanted him to be. Humanity's Strongest. The man with no weaknesses who slaughtered the gigantic beasts with skill and determination. His heart was supposed to belong to humanity, not you, not anyone else.

It hurt. To watch you give out your beautiful giggles to someone else through his office window ached him restlessly. The imagery of your sweet affectionate movements was right before his eyes, directed to someone else this time, during those beautiful November sunsets felt like gunshots aimed anywhere in his vital organs.

You had fallen for someone else, those were the news going around the squad lately. Petra bubbled enthusiastically about Gunther's encounters with you in the small alleyways of Trost on your day offs. Eld would scold you for dressing up appropriately for your dates and Oluo would miserably immitate him, giving you playful comments about reeking shit while biting his tongue. As Petra had informed him, his affiliations with you unbeknownst to her or any other cadet in the picture, Gunther was treating you perfectly, almost too good to be true. Something that made his heart fall into pits of darkness, all masked safely by his humane flesh and skeleton combines.

Would anyone ever treat you like he did? With such serenity? He knew, despite how short lived your fling had ever been, there would never be anyone like him in your life. And for that he had to be the one to punish himself. His fate would be pleased if he turned on himself wouldn't it?

Upon hearing the knock on his door, his mouth automatically spat the familiar inquiry on the knocker's intentions. It felt deaf to his ears; his mind was working on its own while he forced it to torment him with more what ifs. As his fingers brushed brushed underneath his nostril to scratch away any awkwardness that had gathered in the spot with a buzzing feeling.

"It's cadet (L/n) sir" he heard you yelp as you paused, unsure of what to say next. "Personal business if you don't mind!"

When you entered at his command, his eyes didn't dare to spend a second fixated on your bouncing locks. Instead they blinked into your (e/c) ones, staring at the melancholic expression that was plastered on them. Lower on your face, your lip trembled, teeth biting hard not to allow it to show but your efforts had already fell into vain as he quickly noticed it.

He hadn't realised you weren't sitting on the chair before his desk until he got up from his position on the ground, eyes immediately noticing you in his usual spot. You were curled up in a ball with your knees fitted to your eye sockets, silently suppressing what seemed to be the start of a brawling session as he sat there and watched, not daring to touch your back with his hand.

What had happened so early in the morning that had sent you in his office? The two of you weren't much on talking terms nowadays, a restriction he had forced on you from the day that he ended your shared endearments. As potential scenarios chewed on his thoughts your whimpers only grew louder and harsher.

"Don't you dare ask why I'm crying!" You spoke, small hiccups leaving the back of your throat as each time it roared with another wave of sorrow.

"It could be helpful to know."

His steel eyes never met yours as he spoke with his typical steady voice, although this time he had tried to take any nasal sound away from it.

"You're the reason I can't have anything work for me. Gunther said so himself." Another crashing wave of sobs overcame you and he watched frozen, unable to do anything just yet. Confirmation on your status had to be spoken, he wouldn't love to be touchy with another man's woman even if ever cell in his body ached for her.

"You're achingly beautiful, my heart will forever be yours and you knew it. Gunther' isn't fit to be a replacement for you. You get to be the one who comforts me for this breakup, for our breakup up, I can't talk about that shit with anyone else. You're all I ever had and you left me to pretend to be that weapom they want you to be." He had expected you to winch, to flinch or have any negative reaction to his touch on the back of your head, he had prepared himself for it, he had planned the words he'd say but such a reaction never came. You only have in to his lingering touch, hand reaching out for his in an attempt to pull him close.

He didn't feel the pain of his knees hitting the wooden floor as he coarsed you to his neck in full might, he ignored the heart that beat fast at the sound of you admitting you weren't over him, he chewed back at the thoughts that mocked you for calling him achingly beautiful.

The fidgeting of your fingers on the button of his shirt served as an action of your nervousness but all he could care about was that he could feel your heart beating at the right side of his chest almost in synch with his.

"I'm here." He soothed, one hand running through your soft locks as the other one pressed you to his chest. "I'm sorry" he admitted. Whether it was too late was up to your heart's desire to decide.

"You better be." You sniffled the goo that threatened to fall on his shirt.

"You should know by now. I can't bear to watch you thrive with anyone. Tch, I'm a smug runt myself for that."

He fell in silence as you tried to give into his caring comfort. It all felt too familiar, too rushed and too bitterweet to be real. He blinked at the thought and slightly bit his tongue to confirm he wasn't sleeping.

"I thought we belonged together, I thought... I thought I found something in you that was mine."

As your eyes brawled with hit tears once again your fists came to clench onto his shirt. There were distinguishable pauses in your crying; rashes of unspoken pain inside your chest that burned you to think about. It was all too familiar of a feeling to him and it only ever made him press you impossibly closer to his form.

"If it helps, I did so too."

It's only when your face lifts up for your wide eyes to look into his that he realises how much you've cried. Despite the practical darkness of the room your eyes are obviously bloodshot, painted with agony as they burn holes onto his skin, making him shut his in defense of his soul.

"I miss you so much and I can't sleep at night. I can't look at anyone and pretend they are you, they all see through this. I still love you and it hurts. I don't want it to hurt, Levi." Your confessions striked that particular nerve in him that made him numb, frozen on the spot, dumfounded over your words. Had he knew he'd be the reason that love pains you he would have never lead you on, he would have never looked at you with small looks of adoration as you ride your horse's together and most importantly he would have never let his filthy lips touch your angelic ones.

But he didn't find it in him to regret any of his actions.

Not now, not when his lips were begging him to be interlocked with the only pair then had declaired a match.

"I know I came here all of a sudden but it's been nights I haven't slept and I can't do this anymore. J-just hold me and once the sun is out I won't bother you anymore." Even if you tried to speak that nonsense with him you should have known better that it wouldn't work. He could already see the faint purples in the horizon, glazing over the glass of his windows as they lightened by every passing moment.

He knew why you were in his arms, he knew that pushing you away was never an option either. Thus, his hands came to rest under your face your face to tenderly direct it to his. His mouth opened but the words that he spoke took hours, years, eons to come out.

"What if I told you that I still love you, what would you say? Would you press your lips on mine and want to start over?" He inquired as he swallowed the hard lamp that had gathered in his Adams apple. "Would you speak your words in actions?"

The first light of the sky protruded behind the mountains, spreading a yellow light evenly around the sky. As you nodded and tugged your head close enough that your nose touched, your lips faintly brushed against each other's and his heart sped in unimaginable paces.

In the moment he wasn't a doomed underground ugly thug, his nose wasn't misplaced on the context of his head. He wasn't just Kuchel's bastard son that everyone wanted dead. He was that part that you had claimed as yours.

Small victories against his fate didn't always leave him hollow with unbearable loss after all.

My requests are always open, if you want to drop anything I'd be more than happy to write what you want ❤️

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #snk x reader #aot x reader #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #snk #aot #Captain Levi #x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman imagine #levi x reader imagine

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volot · 2 years

Text

@gaburona ┊ START.

he has felt this presence before, many moons ago. it is unmistakable, no matter how many suns have risen and fallen in this endlessly spanning lifetime. tally marks have filled the pages of history as this cruel world turns on and on, ink running off the parchment, staining his hands. but it pales in comparison to the memory that’s burned into him: the dance of purple flames licking against his palm, wisps running along his arm -- the chill that spread gooseflesh along his skin. one voice, then ten, then a hundred: capped off at 108, messily scribbled in his miniature journal, a breakthrough to record as his head thrummed with a cacophony of voices.

it had been the closest thing to an eldritch being before his encounter with god’s unwanted, raging child. thrilling, yet a threat; food for the fire of his soul, yet something that dared to attempt to extinguish it.

a pitiful attempt, but an interesting one. what sort of hate did a mass of souls harbor in their heart? what stories had sewn themselves into their spirit in the wake of their afterlife? what did they know? were they like him? perhaps those of his people? his curiosity ached and ached, ran down to his teeth, left the bone of his jaw throbbing like a child craving sweets -- he had to know. at any costs.

( and known, he eventually had, while ushering command over them. what an exhilarating feeling it was. )

so he stands here once again, between the whistling trees and the ancient earth they’ve been confined to, brow risen.

“my, my... centuries passed, and yet you’ve still nothing to offer me but barbs. a poor trade as always, my old friends.”

( what had he felt? rage, bitterness, denial, rejection, abandonment: his fury spanned on for years and years, interwove itself with his endless ambition. two together, they pushed him forward, dissatisfied with the answer god had given him atop the temple, denying him in favor of an outsider. he’d seen red when his dream had been crushed, sick of feeling sorry for himself, when he’d been told he was wrong -- he couldn’t stand for it. refused to. he drove himself to impossible lengths, drinking from immortality’s cup until he felt full.

the wounds to his heart and pride, fresh and salt-spilled, scarred over. messily so, glued together with the will of his spirit, but the thick layer of drive made it harder to expose as the years passed by.

time marched on. his bloodline grew; his children had children, celestica blood filing the roots of the earth. a town came to be, small and in the ruins where his clan’s once stood, bearing a similar namesake.

a young girl shook the world like an earthquake when she had been brought in refuge across the sea. sported his same blonde hair, peered around with the same curious silver eyes. the elders had been wary, hidden talk that perhaps the pendent she had been gifted had been cursed.

amidst his research, he kept an eye on her: his shadow, he’d dubbed her, eventually donned in all-black, his successor. watched how she filled in his shoes. carried the same team, crushed trainers with the same gusto, hungered for the mysteries of the world in the same way he had. she carried his dream, his aspirations.

the betrayal he’d experienced when word on the wind was that she had met arceus was indescribable. he’d shattered, snarled, damned -- beat his fist to the soil and demanded to know why, why had he been rejected, but why had she been chosen? a flurry of thoughts came, none all too pleasant--

but then, it subsided. realization dawned, slow and sure and soaking. his pendent hung from her neck, gleaming in what he presumed was arceus’s holy light, his inscription still on the back.

she had been chosen. his own had been chosen.

good tidings to come. an opportunity. god had recognized one of his own, and this opened pandora’s own box of possibilities. his hunt had been long from over. this world would still be remade, and arceus meant to be his to conquer.

and cynthia, shirona, champion of this land, was the key. another divine tool, sent to him when he’d least expected it.

his dreams were opposed, long ago, by the sky-sent child whose own directly conflicted his own. crushed, they had been under arceus’s fateful heel. but now, they had been realized. reignited. )

“truly?”

his head tips downward, eyes gently falling shut, a hand poised upon his hip. he laughs, shoulders tremoring with the weak sound, as a mirthless smile plays on his lips. with the opening of his eyes, he greets them with a grin.

“no. rather... i’m very curious. tell me, my friends... what has become of the child who carries my will?”

#hi jack :^)#i need... TO STOP WRITING U SO MUCH IM SORRY.......#gaburona #leaving who u imagine the souls to be open-ended for u since it's ur blog so Go Wild #ic.#one day ill write my verses down..........#technically i guess i could say this is #verse: 03.#but i should tag this as #verse: 04.#my dearly unwritten as of Now #q.

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xmyshya · 3 years

Text

Bumpy road

summary: What if two of your favourite boys were pining after you? genre: angst, fluff, crack warnings: stupidity special thanks: the whole HQ Headquarters DS, for giving me ideas, for hyping up, for everything, I love you all. a/n: Colour coded! Red for Kuroo, Yellow for Atsumu, black for neutral/both! There's an Easter Egg! wc: 3.9k words

[April]

“Please take a seat in the last row”, your eyes followed an extended arm of your new homeroom teacher until they landed on a boy with the messiest bedhead you’d ever seen. He didn’t seem to pay much attention to you though, instead resting his eyes on a faraway point on the other side of the window. Until he heard the noise you made while shuffling your chair, that is. “Hiiiiii, I’m L/N Y/N, nice to meet you neighbour!”, a wide smile formed on your face. “Kuroo Tetsurou, nice to meet you too”.

One week later, you were standing on the gym's threshold, filling your lungs with a deep breath before taking the first step in as a new manager. Volleyball had never been a sport close to your heart, but you had had some experience with it, as well as basic knowledge, so you were up for a challenge. All the more reason to after being asked by an unexpectedly fun friend. And being able to spend more time with said friend. But more time spent on talking came with another consequence. You started hearing rumours and whispers. Things like wow, she’s really talking to him or oh, another victim to his charm reached your ears from everywhere. “Kuroo, am I not supposed to talk to you or something?”, slipped your lips one day. You might as well continue, since he already heard you and was now looking at you with a confusion clear in his eyes. “I just heard people being… surprised about this”. “Oh, apparently I’m either intimidating or hot enough to be a fuckboy”, you choked on your own saliva. “You’re what?” “Intimidating or hot, or both”, did he really say that with a straight face, not once but twice? You just burst out laughing, eyeing him up and down. “Sorry, where?”, laughter bending your body in half, you bumped your head against the desk. “Ouch”

[July]

School premises were swarmed with sweaty boys. Some of them were familiar, like Bokuto or Akaashi, who had been friends with Kuroo for quite a long time. You recognised Karasuno, also known as Country Bumpkins, due to a practice match 2 months prior. The rest? Well, you only knew they were parts of the Fukurodani group. There was a mock game going on, and you, being a diligent manager, observed every move of your teammates to give them performance feedback. Further into the game though, your eyes shifted more and more onto your best friend’s lifting shirt, every time he went for a block. Or spiked. Or served. And wow, his thigh muscles were really… “Okay people, time for a break!”, a shout somewhere near you brought you back to reality. You stood up and made your way to the door, to catch some fresh air, while you bumped into quite a firm body. Looking up revealed it was Kuroo. His smirk made you wonder if he noticed your stares. His wink convinced you he, in fact, did. “Y/N, your name should be Neon, cause daaaaaamn you’re a perfect 10” “So you must be Helium, cause I sure as hell want you on top of me on a table”, few people whistled. Oh shit. His reaction gave you an extra boost of confidence, because now it was painfully obvious that all the rumours about the man in front of you were pretty much it, rumours, since his ears could as well be beacons. You winked at him on your way back to the door, and he still stood there dumbfounded when you looked back after reaching it.

[October]

Something had changed. You couldn’t quite put a finger on what exactly, but it was different. Like a tiny heat wave whenever your hands brushed, and they brushed more often. Like an extra beat of your heart whenever you felt his touch on the small of your back. Like your eyes lingering on for a second longer, before dropping to each other’s lips. Like a blush tinting his ears when you smile at him. Or like the way his heart clenched, when your thick tears threatened to burn their way through his chest, because the world had been unfair to you once too many, while the only thing he could do was to hold you so tight and kiss the top of your head so gently.

[November]

Having to stay late at school really was a blessing, when it was just the two of you in an empty train compartment on your way home. Otherwise, you surely would be scolded or at least stared at, because the decibels of your laughters while fooling around were beyond socially acceptable limits. He was now chasing you, fingers threatening to tickle you once you’re caught… You started to turn just in time for your back to hit the wall, and you definitely didn’t expect him to be so close, with the way he hovered over you and his hand making a loud thud. Or maybe it was your heart. “Oh sorry, the train bumped”, there was something in his eyes that compelled you to look into them, even when he leaned on his forearm above your head. He was so close, you could almost feel his breath on your skin. “Are you sure it’s not you falling for me?”, a chuckle in your throat died instantly as you saw his eyes open wide in fear for a fraction of a second, before his usual cocky smirk curled his lips again. He booped your nose before leaning against the wall next to you. The rest of the way home was silent.

[January]

It was time for you to run to your own team’s match. There was no way to miss a game for a manager, even if it was just your presence serving as a support on court. Your eyes slipped down to your watch only for a moment, but it was enough for a disaster to occur. You felt your body clash with another. “I’m so-” “Watch where yer running, ya fucking idiot”, you really wanted to apologise, you really did. But obviously not anymore, not when the other person was shouting at you like that. “Excuse me?! And where the fuck did your eyes go, huh? And don’t you dare speak to me like that”, your finger digging relentlessly into this stranger’s chest, despite his posture being so much bigger than yours, rage boiling in your veins blocking successfully any feeling of intimidation. “Do ya have any idea who ya talkin’ to? Miya Atsumu of Inarizaki, ya pig”, he straightened up and lifted his chin, looking down at you with a half smirk. You, however, only raised a brow. “Ooohhhhh…”, you squint your eyes for a moment, tapping a finger on your slightly pouty lips. “Never heard of ya”, you gave him a wide smile as you continued your rushed steps towards another gym. “W-wait a sec!”, shit, you really didn’t have time for this, “I uhh, sorry? I thought ya were one of dem stalking fangals and uhh...”, it was clear he wasn’t used to apologising. “The way ya talked back at me was so freaking cool! Can I have yer number?” You were shocked that he dared asking you that after the insults he spouted. Even more so, when you found yourself tapping your digits into his phone.

Nekoma won the match. Not that it was surprising, you always believed in the boys, and you had believed in their plan. But now that the game was over, you were heading to have a sneak peek at your Crow friends. You didn’t expect the situation to be so dire. From the scoreboard, your eyes moved to their opponents and… oh shit. Preparing to serve was HIM, none other than self-proclaimed “THE” Miya Atsumu. He noticed you too, surely, because he was grinning your way and oh my god was it a wink? Because it definitely looked like a wink. The whole match was a pain to watch. It had you hyped, it had you devastated, it had you crying and laughing uncontrollably. But when Oranges finally won, indescribable joy overwhelmed you, while you screamed and jumped around. Sudden hand on the small of your back startled you, emotion quickly replaced with surprise and confusion when you saw Kuroo attached to it. He hadn’t touched you in 2 months. “C’mon, time for us to go”, he pushed you gently towards the door while staring down the blonde setter behind your back. His gaze said he was taking up the challenge.

In the evening, the whole team was gathered in front of the tv to watch repetitions, over and over again, and figure out a strategy. Honestly your focus only could last that long, mind already looking for distractions, when you heard a ding from your phone. [unknown]: Ya know, could’ve been less happy about our loss. ‘M heartbroken now. [Y/N]: That’s what you get for playing against my friends ;) who’s this, btw? [Miya]: Whaddya mean ‘who’?! It’s Miya Atsumu here! [Y/N]: Aaahhhhh… Never heard of him :D [Miya]: We gotta change it then “Maaaaan, I wish we could play against Miyas”, Yamamoto’s voice dragged you back into the room. “Yeah, me too”, Kuroo hissed through clenched teeth.

[February]

Recent weeks were crazy. Preparation for college entrance exams was consuming most of your time, along with your sanity. If only Kuroo was with you, he would surely tell you to take a short break, instead, your mind was spiraling into educational anxiety. Am I doing enough? What if I fail? What if I forget something? What if… the soft sound of a notification brought you down to Earth. Miya Atsumu sent you a friend request. Ah, right. You were overworking yourself so much lately, that you almost stopped replying to his texts, still you were sure to receive at least one every 2-3 days. Request accepted. Just when you were about to re-focus on the textbook in front of you, another notification came. Miya Atsumu liked your photo. Amused, you click on it only to discover the picture was from… 4 years ago. Reaction disappeared, however, almost as quickly as it appeared. On the other side of the line Atsumu’s hands were shaking and sweating, his face red, as his brain was sent into an overdrive. Oh no, oh no, ohnonono, what have I done, has she noticed, do I look desperate, what do I do now, whatdoIdo. But you never said anything about it.

[Miya]: Ya need ta relax once in a while, ya know? [Miya]: Stress ain’t bringing in results [Y/N]: Wow, so you can say something wise :0 [Miya]: HA. HA. HA. [Miya]: Now please wouldya get me? I dunno Tokyo too much. 10 minutes later you were scanning the crowd on the train station in search of a familiar blonde. It wasn’t too hard to find him, but unexpectedly… he had company. Of 2 other guys, including one looking exactly like him, except for a different hair colour. They were introduced to you as ‘Samu (apparently Atsumu was too nervous to go alone) and Suna (he would never miss a spectacle like this). “So where do you need to get to?”, Suna looked at his friend with amusement, and you could swear you heard his twin whisper “she doesn’t know?”. Suddenly you had a phone screen right in front of your eyes, pictures of your favourite cafe on display. How did he.... “I wanna take a certain gal here”, Atsumu tapped on the screen, his eyes focused intensely on yours. As soon as you shifted your gaze from his mobile to his face though, he looked away. “Let’s go then, I guess”

Having your favourite hot chocolate in your hands would have been relaxing, if not for the deafening silence and weird smirks between two extras. “Soooooo, care to explain what you’re doing here?” “Sightseeing?”, blonde sitting opposite of you looks quite adorable with the pink tint, hand on the nape of his neck. Wait, adorable? “Yeah, y/n here being the sight, OUCH”, Suna jumped in his seat, definitely kicked by Atsumu. Maybe he was right, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have a breather from books and notes. On the other side of the window, Kuroo was clenching his fists, as he watched you laugh, not really sure of the reason behind his anger.

[April]

Being late on the very first day is a bad omen, you cursed as you ran through the campus. It was NOT your fault that it was so needlessly big. It also wasn’t your fault that you spent way too much time searching for motivation to attend this class, which was clearly added to the program to harass students. It was bound to be the most boring subject, you just felt it in your bones. You opened the door to the lecture hall as quietly as you could, and then tiptoed to the nearest free seat, eyes trained on the lecturer (you thanked gods she was turned back to the room). Luck was on your side, she hasn’t noticed. “Whatcha doin’ here, babe?”, a sudden whisper and lips barely brushing your ears made you jump in your chair. You almost screamed, but the man’s reflexes were almost inhuman, as he covered your mouth with his hand. Truthfully speaking, it might have been better to prevent your knee from bumping against the desk, because now you had all the unwanted attention. And a hurting knee. “K-Kuroo?!”, you whisper-shout back at him. “I knew we enrolled in the same university, but same class?” “I think this might be the only one, since it’s mandatory for everyone” You thought this course might actually be your favourite.

Obviously he noticed it. It was impossible not to, since the pisshead was a new follower on almost ALL of your social media. Not just a follower, no. He was commenting on nearly each photo, and reacting to every. Single. One. At first Kuroo was just mildly annoyed. Then angry. And then he could feel his blood boil whenever he saw his name under your post. He wasn’t going to tell you though how he checked every hour or so if you had replied. That day, when you both sat in your room, working on some early assignment (two heads are better than one), your phone was blowing up. Tetsurou knew who it was, he saw the bubbles popping up on your screen. You didn’t pay attention to them, much to his relief. On the other hand, Atsumu was going crazy. “Samuuuuuu, she ain’t replying!” “Samuuuuuu, ya think she’s on a date?” “Samuuuuuu, did I annoy her too much?” “Samuuuu….” “Shut up, Tsumu” “Y/N? Smile for the photo”, he laughed when your head snapped towards his raised hand, and your eyes opened wide. Kuroo pushed the shutter button exactly when you smacked his arm. “What the hell’s wrong with you?!”, notes and the search engine slowly reclaimed your main focus, partly because you wanted to hide a blush blooming on your cheeks. “Just wanted to commemorate our first study session in our university life!”, he mused as he entered First assignment with the best girl <3 - @y/n in caption and pressed <upload>. Let’s see if you react to this one, asshole. He didn’t.

[May]

[Y/N]: Are you okay? You’ve been awfully silent lately. [Miya]: ‘M ok! Didn’t want to bother ya. [Y/N]: Huh? [Y/N]: Why the sudden change? [Miya]: Idk, maybe I shouldn’t text “best girl <3” [Y/N]: Atsumu… You’re an idiot [Miya]: Am not! He was. He realised this few days later, right before hopping on a train to Tokyo. Or rather… his brother made him realise this. “Huuuuuuuh?! Whaddya mean I like her?! I mean, I do, she’s cool, but whaaaat?!” “Tsumu… Yer about’a get on a train ta see her!” “So?” “Yer an idiot” “Hey! That’s what she said too!” Looking back at it, that might have been true. Maybe. After all, he was on his way to a city 500 km away, just to see… a friend. Would he do that for just a friend?

He found you outside, and he swore it was the prettiest scene he had ever seen. Gentle breeze blew your hair, as you basked in the sunshine. With your floral dress you reminded him of a flower praising the sun. In that very moment he regretted he hadn’t bought you anything, not even some flowers. Not that they would compare to you. He watched you turn to him in slow motion, as if he was in a movie, and you were about to jump into his arms. You just smiled instead, but its brightness could rival the orb up in the sky. At that moment, he knew he was gone.

“So ya say… there’s anime about volleyball?” “Yes! And it’s so good! Seems pretty accurate too!” “Ya hafta show me! That’s so cool!”, he reminded you of a kid, with his eyes shining like glitter, and a smile covering at least half of his face.

He had exactly the same expression, when he suddenly stopped walking and you bumped into him, ice cream spreading nicely on your nose as he was taking a selfie of both of you. And then again at the train station, when he was worried his arms might have lingered a tad too long around your waist, but you didn’t pull back. Later, a screech could be heard in your room as that photo appeared on your timeline. With your name attached to it. In yer face, rooster bastard, Atsumu thought as he had clicked the <upload> button. Kuroo only scoffed, original much. But if that’s how he wants to play…

[July]

Lunch break was your favourite part of the day not just because it was, well, a break, and not only because of lunch. It was the time spent on talking, goofing around and stealing each other’s food, together with Tetsurou. That day, however, exhaustion took over and you couldn’t do much more than just lay your head on the cantine table, your hair a messy veil. “I can’t wait for summer break to come, I want it to come already! My brain is so tired” “Hang in there! It’s just 2 weeks of exams, and then we’re free!” “Why are you doing this to me, Kuroooooo” “I’ve always been a nice person” His hand was soft as he gently uncovered your face, strand by strand. “Wanna go somewhere and relax a little before all hell breaks loose?” Soft hum was the only thing leaving your lips as you melted into his touch.

The sun was merciless, as if its sole purpose was to burn the Earth to ashes. The fact that you were ankles deep in a stream and shielded by dense leaves didn’t help at all. Undeniably though it was soothing for the soul. “Okay, let’s move on”, Kuroo said, despite wanting to watch you forever. There was something about this relaxed expression that strung the cords of his heart. Yes, you looked happy. It took you too short a while to have shoes on and be ready to walk again. Summer breeze felt wonderful as you climbed up a rocky hill, scorching heat finally letting up a little. Temptation to just stand there with eyes closed and arms open wide almost too strong. Still, you let yourself submerge in it enough, not to notice a slippery boulder. You were preparing yourself for the impact, but instead, you felt a pull on your wrist and then a firm chest in front and a strong arm around your waist. “Please be more careful”, a whisper rather felt than heard, barely louder than a breath. This and his scent intoxicated you. “Let’s go?”

The view was magnificent. Just behind the hill, there was a lake, as clear as glass. Its naturally azure colour was tinted with golden afternoon light and rosy flowers covering the trees growing around the coastline. Some of the petals were floating on the surface, between the sun kissed shimmers. It was truly breathtaking, both of you wished you could stay in that moment. Neither of you noticed, none of you had let go of each other’s hand.

[Y/N]: Random thought. [Y/N]: What if I were a werewolf? [Miya]: … [Miya]: Are ya? oO [Y/N]: Hmm? Would it be a problem if I was? [Miya]: I… ‘m allergic to dogs… :( [Miya]: I swear I’ll get meds! [Y/N]: Wow, such a sacrifice! You would do that for me? [Miya]: I would even hunt squirrels for ya! [Y/N]: Squirrels? [Miya]: Or whatever werewolves eat [Y/N]: Wow, I’m speechless “Samuuuuuuuuu, she sent me a heart! A HEART!”, the fluttering in his chest was almost unbearable. “Shut yet mouth, ya simp! It’s 1 am!” He wasn’t a simp, of course not. Sure, he did watch whatever you recommended to him, and listened to whatever song you said you loved. He did research on things you had said were interesting, and rushed to his phone whenever it announced a new message. But being a simp? Him? Never.

[August]

If this wasn’t heaven, you didn’t know what would be. Warm sand under your back, cool water coming in waves to wash the heat off of your skin, and the sun watching you from the clearest sky. You heard a click somewhere behind your head, and opened your eyes to see your relative, showing proudly their creation. “You just looked so blissful, Y/N. Couldn’t help it”. You couldn’t blame them. You didn’t remember feeling this much at peace either. “Send it to me, please!”

Tucked gently in your covers, you were swiping through your gallery, admiring the pictures you and your relative had taken. After another round you finally decided which ones you wanted to share with the world, a mixture of landscapes, sunsets and portraits. As soon as you were informed about the post being up, you silenced your phone and closed your eyes ready to sleep… This might have been one of the best decisions you had made recently. You had never seen that many alerts on any of your content. Majority of these were from Atsumu, who obviously made sure none of your uploadings went unnoticed, which spread a warmth in your chest. What really caught your attention though, was how many times one particular picture was mentioned. Yes, the one on the beach. It was almost scary. {Kuroo}: Babe, you shouldn’t expose yourself like that, there are thirsty bois around. {Atsumu}: Who tf are ya callin’ thirsty?! {Kuroo}: Never said I was talking about you, but I guess I found one {Atsumu}: Listen here ya smug ass’ole, ya think yer funny? Suna only sent a gif of popcorn eating {Osamu}: Okay Y/N, as much as I find this exhilarating…just choose already, spare those two poor souls! Suna sent another gif, this time a very disappointed one.

Choose? Wtf does that mean? And then it hit you. Kuroo suddenly getting touchy again after distancing himself from you. His sudden clinginess whenever Atsumu interacted, phone in plain sight. Miya’s constant attention. His willingness to travel and never asking for anything in return. His eagerness to learn about anything you liked. Had you really been so oblivious for this whole time? Well, it could wait until you were back home.

Memories flooded your mind as you were typing the message, your heartbeat rate over the roof, your hands shaky, but you knew you needed to do this. For your sake. For his sake. One last glance over the text “I think it’s time for us to talk…” before you press <send>

Epilogue 1 - Kuroo Epilogue 2 - Tsumu Epilogue 3 - both

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aiorevelations · 3 years

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A Number, Not a Name: Part 6

Hope you all enjoy this latest chapter. We had a blast writing this one! @btv-grace @theannecordeliashirley

Chapter 6: Echoes of the Past

Twenty years earlier:

The pendulum of the old grandfather clock swung back and forth, its hands moving clockwise marking the continual passing of time. The “tick-tock” escaping from the timepiece was the only discernible sound within the room. The two gentlemen seated in the wide tufted wingback chairs in the center of the room preferring to pass the time in silence, only occasionally taking a swig of whiskey from their glasses.

The younger gentlemen glanced upon the portrait which hung on the wall to his right and broke the silence, “Judging from the portrait Milena and Liana have grown a great deal since I was last here.”

The older man gave a curt nod. “Yes, they have.”

“I must say, Milena certainly takes after you. She has your eyes.”

“Milena does remind me a lot of myself. She never ceases to amaze me or make me proud. Everything she does she excels at it. Whether it's academics or martial arts.” Norvan glanced down towards the drink in his hand.

“And what of Liana?”

Norvan’s gaze rose from his drink and met the gentleman’s eyes seated across from him. Their eyes locked for a few moments, no reply escaping from Norvan’s lips.

“Liana is well,” Norvan finally answered, a blank expression on his face. He brought the tumbler glass to his lips and took another sip.

The younger gentleman cleared his throat. “I must say Norvan your reputation precedes you. As soon as I arrived here I heard mention of you.”

Norvan sat farther back in his chair, “Yes, that is the case when you have been as successful as I have been. In everything I have done in my life that has always been my objective - for it to be a success. I won’t settle for anything less. I suppose I take after my father that way.” he paused for a moment and continued “And what of you cousin? Are you still biding your time with that old professor of yours?”

“Yes. Professor M and I are still enthralled with our research. Ever since he showed me a glimpse of what the world could be like it is the only thing that seems of consequence - The one thing that remains is to find what we seek.”

“Hmmm,” Norvan nodded his head in thought, “and what particular type of research are you enthralled with?”

The younger man chuckled dryly “Same old Norvan, you were always one to ask questions.”

“And you were always one to be elusive in answers, just as you are in life.” Norvan countered.

“What can I say, I go as the wind goes.”

“Or where opportunity lies.”

“Perhaps.”

“I however prefer to put down roots rather than spend my life wandering aimlessly to find my fortune or in your case a fantasy.”

The younger man placed his glass down on the mahogany table between them and grasped the armrest of his chair. His eyes darkened and his jaw clenched hearing Norvan’s slight.

Norvan took notice of the change in his cousin’s demeanor yet continued. “Though that must come naturally to you seeing as you’ve been running nearly all your life.”

“I prefer the term ‘starting over.’”

“‘Starting over,’ ‘Running from something,’ It’s all the same. I for one never shrink back from a challenge no matter what obstacles may be in the way. Unlike your father. He showed his true colors in the war when he deserted.”

“My father fought valiantly!” The younger man nearly shouted at Norvan as he rose from his chair. Norvan followed suit and stood up as well.

“Until he realized the war was a lost cause. Then he ran like a cat with its tail between its legs. Just like you!” Norvan scoffed as he pointed at his cousin.

Overcome with unspeakable rage the younger man slammed his hand down on the table.

“At least I’m not stuck in some God-forsaken place in the middle of nowhere! Here you are acting like you own the world. Like you’ve accomplished something meaningful. You haven’t!” he spat.

Norvan’s cousin began making his way across the room towards the door.

“Says the man whose only accomplishment in life is being a protege to a lunatic professor! You’re nothing Regis!” Norvan shouted after him.

Regis stopped and stood there, completely still for a moment. He then turned and calmly replied to his older cousin.

“Of course you’d see Professor M that way with that ignorant mind of yours. You will never understand or even begin to imagine the great importance of our work. How it will change the world. But then again neither will the rest of the world.”

“You truly believe that this ‘research’ of yours will give you a place in the world. That you’ll be someone remembered and praised by humanity. You lost your place in the world when you willing chose to remain a Blackgaard and reject the Blagueur name.”

“In my experience, I have found that it is not the name that makes the man but the course in life he chooses to embark upon.”

“I for one, have always continued on what course I have set upon, in spite of what may result or transpire.”

“It seems that we are each determined to see our desires through to the end no matter what. Perhaps you and I are not so different after all.”

“Perhaps.”

Regis looked down reflectively and spoke. “Goodbye, Norvan”

“Goodbye, Regis.”

…..

Present-day:

It was late at night, nearly two o’clock. In the darkened sky hung a shimmering full moon. Along a dimly lit alleyway, a woman quickly made her way to her apartment. Her coat was all done up and her hands tucked in her pockets in an effort to keep somewhat warm from the chilly night breeze. She reached the gates of her apartment complex and walked through them towards her flat “105.” She pulled out her key and began to unlock the door. She heard a familiar voice behind her and turned to greet her landlord.

“Ms.Vardyan, you’re getting in late.”

“Hello, Mrs. Agassi. How come you’re up at this hour?”

“Oh you know, a landlord’s work is never done.” she gave a slight laugh “I was just going over my books and finances. I saw you pass by my bedroom window and thought I’d say hi. Speaking of finances, you still owe me last month’s rent.”

“I know. I know. I promise you’ll have it by Wednesday.”

“Okay, that will be fine. Just make sure you aren’t late again.” Mrs. Agassi quipped as she began to head back to her apartment.

“Don’t worry. I will” Ms. Vardyan called after her. She finished unlocking the door and entered her home. It had been a long day and she was completely exhausted. All she wanted to do was sleep though she doubted she would be able to, at least not well and for very long, with all the haunted memories of her past constantly weighing on her mind. Whenever she could drift off she savored every moment of it. It was the only time she could escape the unending pain and emptiness she felt every moment she spent awake. She reached her bedroom and collapsed on the bed. She stared at the ceiling and sighed. Her hand made its way to the golden locket she always wore around her neck. She held it up so that it was illuminated by the moonlight streaming in from her bedroom window. She opened the locket and glanced at the photo, which was an image of her and the man she loved more than anything.

She closed the locket and brought it to her heart, tears streaming down her face. She closed her eyes, sobs racking her entire body. She pictured the day that image was taken. She could still recall every detail of that day even though now it seemed like an eternity ago. She was a different person then. In fact, that was a completely different life. She and Erik had spent the day at the lake. The two of them had shared a picnic by the water’s edge, playfully splashed each other, and tried to see who could fly their kite the highest. The air had been filled with sounds of endless laughter and joy. She recalled how she was filled with indescribable happiness every time she was in his arms, both that day and all the other times they shared together. They had been happy and so in love, excitedly looking forward to their future together. But now he was gone and their future had been snatched from them. When she lost him she didn’t know how she would survive. Every part of her had been filled with unspeakable grief, pain, and anger. Her heart had been ripped into a million pieces. Now all she felt was emptiness, sadness, and a sense of loneliness that overwhelmed her whole being.

Since that fateful day when Erik had been so cruelly taken from her she had sworn to make those who had horrifically murdered him pay for what they had done. It had been her sole focus for almost the past five years. The only thing that mattered to her. She had almost accomplished her goal but one person still stood in her way and she was determined to cross his name off her list.

…..

Three months earlier:

Milena and Lorenzo sat together around a patio table on an upper porch. Around them and on the table were placed candles and arrays of red roses. Above them stars brightly twinkled in the night sky. While they were surrounded by the view of the wooded mountainside, the trees seemingly aglow with fireflies. The two of them sat there content, completely enveloped in each other’s presence.

“I must say Lena you look stunning tonight. That dress brings out the color of your eyes” Lorenzo adoring complimented Milena.

Milena’s smile widened “And you look very handsome.”

“Thank you mio caro. It feels so wonderful to be here with you especially since we haven’t had much time to be together recently.”

“I know and feel terrible about that. My father and I have just been very busy acquiring new plots for drilling. Securing various business deals—”

Lorenzo took Milena’s hand “No need to apologize. I’ve always found myself captivated by your ingenuity and determination. It’s one of the reasons why I love you so much.”

“And your understanding and patience is one of the reasons why I love you so much.”

They stared intently at one another, lost in each other’s eyes. At that moment a voice came from behind them.

“Ms. Blagueur-Ohanyan.”

Milena looked up in her housekeeper’s direction. “Jemma I requested that Lorenzo and I not be interrupted.”

“I know ma’am and I’m sorry for disturbing you but the caller said it was urgent that he speak to you” Jemma held out the phone to Milena.

Milena sighed “Will you excuse me for a moment.”

“Of course.”

Milena scooted her chair back and rose from her seat. “I’ll be right back” she gently touched Lorenzo’s arm as she walked past him towards the sliding door. Milena reached Jenna and took the phone from her. She walked a few feet inside the house in order to have some privacy and held the phone up to her ear.

“Hello” she answered.

The person on the other end responded “Hello. Am I speaking to Milena Blagueur-Ohanyan?”

“Yes, this is she.”

“I’m Officer Adam Kassabian with the Bulin police department. I’m sorry to inform you but your father has passed away.”

The blood drained from Milena’s face as she heard the officer’s words. She took a deep breath as she struggled to keep her composure. “Um...are you ah,” she stammered “sure that he’s…gone?”

“Unfortunately yes. We located the burning wreckage of his car at the bottom of a cliff about twenty minutes outside of Bulin.”

Milena’s head was spinning as she tried to comprehend that her father was dead. “Is there um…” she took a breath, willing herself once more to hold it together, “any idea how it happened?”

“We’re still in the early stages of the investigation Ms. Ohanyan.”

Milena could tell from Officer Kassabian’s voice that there was something he was holding back from her.

“Please,” she paused “whatever you know tell me…I want to know.”

Officer Kassabian sighed “We’ve found what appears to be the remains of a disk grenade. The car was also riddled with bullet holes and your father was shot. Unfortunately, it appears as though this wasn’t an accident.”

Milena’s heart felt sick and she was filed with unspeakable sadness and anger. Her fingers loosened their grip on the phone and it dropped to the floor. She stood there unable to move, paralyzed with grief. Lorenzo hearing the clatter of the phone hitting the tile walked to the entrance of the sliding glass door to check on Milena. He saw her there frozen in that spot and shaking uncontrollably. Her eyes red and brimming with tears.

“Lena what’s wrong?” he stepped closer in her direction.

Milena swallowed hard willing herself to speak. “My father…he’s gone Lorenzo...he was killed.”

“Oh Lena, I’m so sorry.” he gently spoke, trying to offer her as much comfort and support as he could. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now.”

“I just saw him yesterday. We were together chatting and laughing like always.” Milena cried, lost in a daze as she remembered the events of the previous day. “I never imagined that would be the last time I’d see him.”

Milena shook her head and brought her hand to her mouth. She collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Lorenzo walked over to Milena and wrapped his arms around her. She wailed as she buried her tear streaked face in his shirt. They sat there together on the floor. Neither of them saying anything. To Milena this was just another reminder of how cruel life had been to her. She had lost her mother when she was just a toddler. Her sister had turned her back on their family. And now, just when she was finally enjoying a period of happiness in her life, her father’s life was mercilessly taken.

#Adventures in odyssey #jason whittaker #aio fanfic #adventures in odyssey fanfiction #tasha forbes #adventuresinodyssey

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killed-by-jane-volturi · 3 years

Text

Cause someone has to fill the huge Volturi void, right?

An extract of the start of who knows what, y’all.

****Jane (and Alec) are aged up to 20 because S*eyer is a gateway pedo and she does not pass the fuckin’ vibe check****

---

@greekmuser

----

“Well, I think that was wonderful. That was wonderful, don’t you agree?” Aro clasped his hands and turned to each of his brothers in delight.

Marcus nodded deeply and slowly, his face not moving from its sunken blood-hound like melancholy. Caius smiled thinly.

This human did indeed have a wonderful handle of the violin trembling against her shoulder, but Aro had been at this for eight days. In a bid to add to his ‘collection’ of art, Aro had decided to reach out to those few hopeful humans who stayed under the Volturi’s employ in search of any with a talent with instruments. Once he acquired a full quartet, orchestra, or god knows what he had his heart set on, he would grant them the immortality they craved in exchange for their eternal service as the castle’s musicians.

No one dared voice how ridiculous a waste of effort it seemed, even when Aro declared he wanted to hear for himself each and every audition, and dragged his brothers into the newly repaired turret room for the occasion.

The young woman with the violin bowed deeply, awkwardly, and then left, only to be replaced by another. This one carried a cello, and froze to her core once she gathered the courage to look at her spectators.

“Whilst we’re still young.” Marcus droned in an unchanging, deadened tone.

Caius’ snort at the humour was childish and Aro glared across the room at him before regaining his whimsical, cheerful facade.

“Go ahead.”

The woman wetted her lips and tried to smile, drawing the bow to the strings. Aro thought she looked like very much like she was in pain.

As the thought crossed his mind, the sound of an enraged scream split through the marble and mortar of the castle walls with such a blood-curdling quality the cello woman almost fainted.

Aro closed his eyes in annoyance, Marcus rolled his tortured gaze on the ceiling and Caius gave the side of Aro’s head a look which could have said ‘rather you than me’ as much as it could have meant ‘I told you so’.

“Excuse me.” Aro said with a sickly sugariness, lips peeled back in a shark smile as a muffled crashing sound resounded from above.

He left the judging to his brothers with a heavy heart, and hoped they would at least allow her to play before they killed her.

Jane’s chambers, of which had been hers and hers alone for over twelve hundred years, were now more of a salvage operation than a rescue mission. She stood still in the rubble of the furniture, of her few possessions and in places, the stonework of the walls, with her back to the door and an antagonised aura about her. Chalky dust still swirled in the air, and smears of powdered granite peppered with splinters decorated her black robes in calico patches. Aro cleared his throat from the doorway and she exhaled audibly.

“Jane.” He prompted, like a school teacher cueing a small child to take their turn.

“Master.” It was polite but she knew she was pushing it. Aro had asked a question with his presence alone, and this was the second time this week that she hadn’t answered it. She didn’t turn around.

Aro stayed silent for long enough to give away that he was calculating.

“Your power grants you a great deal of… privacy. Which in turn demands a great deal of transparency,” His voice stayed light and oddly-pitched. “I trust that I still have your… transparency?” His saccharine tone was straining. She was keeping things from him, and no one kept things from him.

Jane clenched and unclenched her jaw, still rigid. It wouldn’t be long before he worked this out, she knew Caius was already whispering in his ear at every opportunity. She turned very slowly to look at him, and Aro’s features scrunched a little at what he was confronted with. Jane’s face was calm, but there was a crack running along her cheekbone which was healing very slowly, if it was healing at all. Her eyes were flushed black. However long it had been since Jane had drank, it was long enough halt her natural abilities to heal almost to a stop.

She nodded once, knowing better than to speak and risk her words being seized and used against her.

“I do not wish to have to force you to behave appropriately, Jane.” He added with some finality, the threat seeping into his voice. “The Guard do not have personal issues.” He left.

Jane’s shoulders relaxed a little and she glanced towards a god she didn’t believe in before looking around at the room she had destroyed. She swore. She hadn’t succumbed to such a blind rage in centuries, but she didn’t know any other way to handle this new complication.

“Dear me.”

Jane’s head snapped around to regard the new intrusion into what was already a poor day. She growled lowly, fists tightening under her cloak as she felt Chelsea’s thin influence coil around her.

“Temper, temper, Jane.” Chelsea’s pale brown hair was wrapped into a bun that made her sharp features look as though they had been created by the taught pressure alone. She kept a cold, vindictive twist to her thin lips as she surveyed the room.

“Didn’t your dirty peasant mother ever teach you that it’s unbecoming of a lady to throw tantrums?”

Anger simmered under the surface as Jane battled to school her face. In her eyes, Chelsea, for what she could do, was an abomination that should have been destroyed long ago, and the fact that Aro refused to listen to her on the subject gave the manipulator a kind of insufferable glee that goaded Jane to her very soul.

“If you’d like to see a tantrum, Charmion, by all means; carry on.”

Jane lifted her jaw and with some satisfaction saw the other woman hesitate, eyes flicking down and back up again as if somehow surveying a threat she couldn’t see. The eldest of Aro’s daughters despised people calling her by her birth name and anyone else would have paid for their insolence with a hard dose of Chelsea’s most brutal destruction, losing their friends, lovers, even pets on occasion. But Jane’s power was volatile and chaotic in her veins and no vampire so far had been able touch her mind without being brought to their knees in indescribable agony.

In fact, the last time a vampire had gone head to head with Jane’s natural defences— a white-blonde Parisian vampire named Lafayette with an affinity to cause long lasting amnesia— he had simply tried, screaming and straining until he expired. Aro had ordered him killed once it became apparent that the force of what Jane had unwittingly done to him had left him barely able to speak let alone serve. The inner circle had accepted this handicap to their absolute power out of necessity to keep Jane close, but Chelsea had never been able to let it go that Jane went unaffected and unchecked, her mental privacy so absolute.

“Always such an angry little thing,” Chelsea mocked, smirking around at the carnage. “You know, I really thought our time apart would have calmed you down.” Her abilities poked at Jane a second time, just slight enough to be safe.

Late one afternoon in 1740-something, Chelsea had almost died by Jane’s hand when it had accidentally slipped that the older vampire could delicately manipulate Jane’s relationships without torturing herself, though it took a skilful, butterfly application, excruciatingly slow and insidious to evade Jane’s detection and defences, with an end result was pathetic at best. Aro had ordered them apart for ninety years after the fight had been subdued, favouritism Chelsea had branded it when she had heard Jane had survived the transgression (sure as hell nobody else would have), and once they did come back into contact almost a century later the bad blood had only run cold. Her application of it now was just blatant provocation.

“I’ll be calm as I take a long nap at your overdue wake.”

Chelsea sneered suddenly. “Please. I know as well as you do that you’re stomping that foot on ice far too thin to risk adding any bite to your bark.”

It was Jane’s turn to laugh. “You have the natural edge when it comes to barking, Chelsea.”

“Jane.” Alec’s sharp voice cut off the rage her comment had invoked in her antagoniser as he strode past them without halting. “Marcus demands your presence. Now.”

Jane gritted her teeth again and Chelsea was already back to her smug default.

“Oops.” She feigned Aro’s sugar with one hand over her mouth as she followed Alec away, knowing damned fine and happily so that Jane was probably in trouble if Marcus wanted her so suddenly.

#Volturi #Twilight #New Moon #Bella Swan #Jane Volturi #Aro Volturi #Marcus Volturi #Chelsea #Fanfiction #I guess #Please dont eat musicians

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atortoiseinimladris · 3 years

Text

Lashing Waters

Summary; In which Elrond acknowledges the power of the sea as akin to his own strength when in weakness.

“Elrond commanded it. The river of this valley is under his power, and it will rise in anger when he has great need.”

Elrond was unwell. He knew it to be true, for he could feel the encasing hold of pale-green sickness like stinging nettles twining with his veins. The throbbing pain of their touch lingered upon his brow and he shied away from their hold; unconsciously flinching when a healer laid a hand atop his forehead and rustled the thorny leaves against him in burning agony. There was a tumultuous sea within his stomach, restless as it consumed his lifeless form and lashed out in mighty waves which departed his lips into a porcelain basin that rested at his bedside.

“I do not understand; he was fine two days ago…”

“Much can happen in the course of a day.”

“He needs help. He will die if this continues.”

The night was still, but for the oceans restless thrashing. Elrond thought he recognised the sorrowed voice, but it was so very distant; its own despondency far overshadowed by the weeping of the waters within him as they whispered their leaden burdens into his ears, aging his soul by six thousand years not yet passed. A hand brushed against his own, but it was ablaze with clawing fire and his heart yearned only for the chill of winter, the bitter ice caressing the wrath of the waves into a cradling embrace akin to the rocking of a cradle. The fire cowered away from him as he flinched.

“Please. You must help him.”

Such was the command that was given; that Elrond be aided in his recovery and at every worsening of his condition prevented from entering the shadow world to which he drew ever closer to succumbing to. Wise and knowledgeable healers renowned for their greatness were summoned to his sick bed, masters of lore flickering hastily between books in search of answers for the illness which had taken him so very unpredictably; he had been laughingly indulging in a late luncheon before he collapsed. Yet no answers could any of those great folk provide, as Elrond’s condition worsened with every passing hour and the shadows overcast his ailing form with foreboding clouds of darkening grey. Though Elrond was too weak to utter words of condolence- let alone to move his deteriorating body- the weeping of the High King still rang within his ears; tears of love and brotherhood lost brushing against his dreamscape as his friend’s hope dwindled. He heard them, but they meant to him naught; the raucous of the oceans was louder and more destroying, tugging at the hems of his tunic so that he may become submerged beneath their depths.

Eventually- though Elrond knew not how long he had tarried before the doors of death- a single word of advice was found between the flourishing hand of a long deceased Valinorean healer.

“The waters shall heal.” proclaimed the parchment. Though it revealed no further council, the archaic text was all that they had and as such arrangements were made for Elrond to be taken from his bed and to a nearby stream which was murmured in folk’s tales to have healing qualities beyond description. A swift horseman would take him, they said. Elrond had lingered upon the borders of consciousness as he heard the High King, his dearest of friends, vehemently assert his right to take Elrond himself to the stream; no other was fit for the role.

Elrond knew better. No other would be more distraught to see him leave.

For three days they had ridden in haste as the storm within him lurched and crashed against his skin and consciousness; he was given water to drink, to soothe his aches, but it only gave more to the infuriated seas that billowed as though alight within him. Distressed, he cried out in his sleep; the moonlight pitied him and tried to guide him away from the shores but he would not depart, for he was the centre of the storm and the oceans encompassed him, ebbing from his stomach to fill the shadowy void. Each time a hand was laid upon his brow to comfort him and each time he turned away from it in agony.

At some point they ceased their journeying. Elrond was bundled up with ivory shawls and layed down upon the soft grasses as they tickled against his forehead with the evening breeze. He had not the strength to contain the water for any longer and it had begun to brim his eyes and dampen his cheeks as the hazy sunlight touched against his face. His mind was filled with vast, sorrowed oceans, yet now there was something else flickering within his mind; as though the curtains had been drawn to reveal the filtered light of the morning. A myriad of pale blue hued his vision as the lashings of the ocean seemed to fade temporarily into the background of his thoughts.

Ho now, Elrond, you weep but for what purpose! The sun is without but it storms within, I take it.

The spirit's voice was kind but Elrond wavered before its presence; the waters terrified him, had always brought naught but loss to him, and he knew that when this being left he would be at their mercy once more.

No no Elrond, you are mistaken; I would not leave you to drown! But what now makes you think that you would be submerged beneath the seas that encompass you at all, hm? The waters are not enemies, lest you would make an enemy of yourself!

The being spoke in riddles that Elrond’s fatigued mind could not comprehend- though not for lack of trying. He made to convey some form of delicate response, but there were footsteps fast approaching as another voice joined with that of the river-spirit.

“Do not touch him, fiend!” The newcomer roared.

Your friend names me your enemy now Elrond, ha! The spirit whispered within his mind before addressing the other with spoken words:

“Do you both find foes where there are none? It would seem so!”

“Elrond is unwell; why do you speak to him like you have conversed?”

“But we have! Come now; I know your purpose and of this ghastly sickness. Do you wish to see Elrond restored to his former vigour or nay?”

“Of course I do.” Elrond felt trembling hands adjust his shawl as his friend knelt at his side and made to lift him once more, ceasing to do such as another hand pressed him gently to the ground.

“There are foul creatures yonder; you would be leaving Elrond at their disposal. Do you truly believe that you possess the ability to fight whilst cradling your poorly friend to your chest?”

“He must receive the water. He must heal.”

The dispute between the two faded away into mere whisperings of the wind as a sudden, foreboding dread quenched Elrond’s heart and irked the sea within him once more into grief-stricken thrashings of anger. The waves glittered steel as the melody of swords being drawn drifted over the horizon. The river-spirit’s presence still lingered at the edges of the storm and Elrond felt indescribably safe despite the storming oceans.

Cries of vexation laced together with his vision as a battle began around him; there was a hand made of fire upon his arm and it burnt and stung like nettles thrown into a furnace and brought against his chilled skin. Yet there was an almighty storm within Elrond now and he understood at long last its purpose; not to harm, but to defend him. A furious descension of hail and waves was tearing at his heart and crashing against his skin, for suddenly he was the waters which encompassed him: powerful, infallible and knowledgeable beyond the count of years. He was water, but he would not fall.

The flames cowered away from the lashing thunders which he summoned to him now, the oceans of despair which he had long borne drawing themselves up from where they lay about him and whipping at those who would seek to weaken their Lord with the unquenchable force of a thousand armies of righteous warriors wronged by evil. Elrond lay still, but the storm he himself had conjured crashed and thundered with a rage never before seen as the orcs fled before the awful shrieking of the winds and the harrowing cries of the tempest sea. As the rivers thrashed, the earth shook and hail descended the skies until his foes were gone and could no longer bring about hurt to his weakened form. The High King came to Elrond then, kneeling before him amidst the waters and brushing a hand against his face; his touch was no longer ablaze, for the fires had witnessed Elrond’s wrath and bowed down low before his fea, beholding his power.

“The water rose for him.” His friend’s words were that of incredulousness, but to Elrond there was nothing at all questionable about his power. He was a descendant of the Ainur and he held within himself a storm that could make even the most hardened of foes fall to their knees. That did not bode well for those who would seek to undermine the strength of his will. He needed no weapon; the waters were his sword.

“The river answered it's summons, as a faithful subject does. You came seeking the aid of the water to use in healing, but you were mistaken. There is no greater power than the water, it is true, but you forget whom you behold before you now.”

The spirit turned its formless gaze towards Elrond, leaves rustling against his ebony hair.

“The water shall heal, which it has. But Elrond has not merely been healed by the liquid for which you sought after. Elrond is the water.”

It was unquestionably true, for though Elrond lay still and diminished by sickness he did not drown nor wake as his tunic dampened and his ebony hair ascended the waves which had borne him upon their surface.

He was water. That power to him alone was granted, for he alone had lost so much to the tide; so much so that his identity had become entwined with its very depths.

From that day forth, the oceans never ceased to obey Elrond’s every command.

#elrond #silmarillion #lord elrond #fanfiction #lord of the rings #elrond half-elven #writing #my writing #mine

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nissakii · 3 years

Text

Scent. a Haikyu!! Fanfiction pt.08

[want to read all chapters right now? Our fanfictions get updated every monday on our blog, click here to continue reading!]

“Kenma, finish the report”

The blonde shook his head vigorously in contempt and looked back at the phone in his hands.

Akaashi was tired of rallying everyone around, especially in situations like these.

“We really need these reports from everyone who was there. Come on Kenma”, his voice was a low hum almost but his facial features showed aggravation that steadily built up with the second.

Kenma and Akaashi were both in the beta lounge, preparing for an important meeting that was supposed to take place in the next hour.

“Akaashi”, another unassuming beta popped her head in to address the young male.

Akaashi looked up from his own report and waited for the girl to reply.

“The meeting was rearranged”, she almost whispered, with an apologetic look on her face?

“Does that mean I can go?”, Kenma shit back, ready to pack his stuff and leave.

“What do you mean?”, Akaashi asked.

“The student council said instead of a beta committee meeting they would rather have everyone involved to answer a couple questions”

At that exact moment, Asami slowly entered the room, her eyes trained on the girl at the door before she shuffled through and stood next to Kenma.

“What’s going on? Isn’t the meeting happening soon?”

“I don’t know, the council wants to meet us instead of the beta meetings I guess”, Kenma grumbled.

“The council?”, Asami gulped, knowing she would be questioned a lot harsher about the whole incident.

The council was known to take on bigger incidents that would occur between Alphas and Omega’s and put them on record. They weren’t as leisurely and reserved as the beta committee, who mostly just took care of the mental state of all of the involved and made sure to report it without a lot of hassle.

The student council was the highest hierarchy at the University. This the University is a private one that is sponsored by a lot of influential people, the student council members are either exceptional students or have ties to politics or money.

Akaashi sighed, truly more annoyed now than ever, and packed his notes into his bag. Asami leaned on the doorframe and fiddled with her thumbs as Akaashi walked past her, and Kenma only followed reluctantly a bit later.

On their way to the floor where the council resided, the group of betas encountered Iwaizumi on his way to the same destination.

He slowly trotted next to Kenma and Asami, all of them tense from what might happen next.

The incident was in the past now. For some reason, all of the emotions hung heavily in the air now, bringing back the memories of what happened.

“What about Oikawa and Mikoto?”, Asami hushed next to Iwaizumi and he shrugged.

“I haven’t seen him since this morning, but he was in the lab with her so they are probably coming together”, his voice was low but he had a stiffness to himself.

How would the council react when Oikawa and Mikoto entered the room together?

It was just a matter of time before the meeting started now and the group stared forwards until the linoleum floors changed colours from beige to a dark violet that almost leaned into black.

The whole atmosphere shifted as they entered the floor of the student council.

The walls were sterile white and the windows on the right side illuminated the long corridor beautifully. Still, what changed the atmosphere was the stark contrast of the smell.

Every inch of the hall was drenched in musky scents that overlapped over another, a stark contrast to the calming beta lounge part of the group resided in before.

Their steps echoed through the hallway and the way led them left where a receptionist working at a neatly organized table awaited them.

The young woman wore a mask that was tucked under her nose, and she quickly drew it over upwards as she saw the group of students come in.

According to the badge with her name on the desk, she was an alumni of the school and funnily enough, a beta.

Although there was no official guide as to what secondary gender a student council member should have, it was a known fact that most if not all of them were alphas. All of the members are hand-picked by alumni or current staff of the council, and it was rare that they chose anything but alphas, gammas or deltas for their line up.

“Who are you here to see?”, the receptionist called out with a high pitched voice and an almost fake sounding song in her intonation.

“We were called in by the council for an incident report?”, Akaashi asked lowly, for some reason automatically inclined to lead the group with him.

Iwaizumi stood behind him and nodded in affirmation as the young woman led them in with a gesture of her arm.

“This is all so elaborate”, Asami exclaimed quietly while her eyes were glued to the intricate walls full of certificates and achievements of the council.

“I don’t like how strong the scent is”, Kenma almost whispered and she nodded in agreement.

“I’m okay if it’s the normal amount, but this just screams ‘alpha zone’”, Asami made quotation marks in the air to emphasize her point.

Suddenly she stiffened and stood still for a moment before continuing her walk towards an open door that exuded a certain scent.

“You okay?”, Iwaizumi walked a bit slower but stayed in front of her, only craning his neck back and frowning.

She nodded with a crooked smile and shook her head to keep a calm demeanor.

The alpha nodded and looked back ahead, his own scent flaring up around the group. The air filled with the smell of agarwood and it pushed away every other scent for a mere second before they all got closer to the door.

A sliver of the room was now visible, and in a mere couple of steps they arrived at their destination.

There were tables pushed together in the shape of a rectangle in the middle of the room. Violet chairs adorned with velvet seat covers stood empty for them. Somehow, nobody sat down, following Akaashi’s example as he stood close to the door.

Awaiting some kind of invitation, everyone just stared at some of the council members who were visible from a side room but nobody said anything.

Quick steps approached from the hallway, and heads snapped into the direction of the sound to see Oikawa and Mikoto darting into the room.

“Are we late?”, Mikoto asked the group with visible confusion on her face.

Asami immediately shuffled next to her and shook her head, while she also acknowledged Oikawa’s presence with a nod and a smile.

“His scent is so strong it pisses me off”, he grumbled while gritting his teeth and smiling lightly, but his smile wasn’t a pleasant one.

“So you’ve arrived”, a booming voice broke through their ranks with an indescribable force that left everyone shocked for a moment.

Heads slowly and raggedly turned towards the owner of that voice that didn’t ask but commanded respect.

Ushijima Wakatoshi, the first head and representative of the student council entered the room, the strong and overwhelming scent of Mahogany rippled through the room knocking every other scent out of the way.

“Sit”, his voice was now even stronger than before. Not louder, but more demanding and intimidating.

Impossible to deny.

Asami scrambled to the next seat with a hurry, while Kenma quickly hushed to one of the seats in the back and curled in his seat.

Akaashi’s fists were bald and his eyes closed shut for a second before he took big and quick strides towards his seat.

Iwaizumi almost popped a vein right then and there, the influence of another alpha’s command impossible to deny yet crushing for his pride in an instant.

Stiff and almost too aggressive, he pushed back a stool and sat down while gripping the seat with his right hand.

Mikoto and Oikawa still stood glued to the ground where they were from the beginning, and Ushijima’s gaze landed on both of them.

“The meeting will start soon”, a yelp was heard from the table and an annoyed groan from the back of the room as the Alpha used his commanding voice again.

The omega was filled to the brim with all kinds of mixed feelings.

Her heart rate increased as she felt humiliated in front of her colleagues and friends and she shakily took a step, cursing herself to be affected by such a rude and unseemly command. The fear in her battled with the urge to obey but was restricted by the absolute rage that bubbled in her core as she felt her fingers twitch.

She couldn’t see the features on the face of the man behind her, but if she could she would’ve seen the almost bizarre expression that was plastered on his face. Emotions he could only barely hold in rumored inside him wanting to break out.

To be honest, he could’ve just jumped at the council head at that second, every fiber in his body screamed for him to do so, but he knew of the consequences.

In the end, for him it felt like it was all his fault that they were all in here anyways, so he gulped down his anger and restrained himself. With a feather touch he placed his fingers on the omegas shoulder and she immediately shot up and moved to a seat next to her beta friend.

The beta grabbed the omegas’ hands with urgency and the omega couldn’t reciprocate the gesture fully, but made sure to look back at her friend with a seemingly reassuring expression.

“Is he going to use his alpha voice the whole time?”, Asami whispered into her ear, her eyes darting to Ushijima who sat down at the end of the long table with two alpha’s next to him.

“I don’t know, but are you okay?”, Mikoto dipped her head closer to Asami and made sure that she really was fine.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll stop soon though”.

Mikoto hoped for the same, but was more concerned about the group around her and their reactions.

In history, the alpha voice was a trigger used by alpha’s to talk over huge crowds of people and packs to establish dominance or to fend off other people. It was a very traditional way of thinking if it’s still used in these modern times, and Ushijima was all for tradition.

Now that two alpha’s have joined him, one of them the notorious Kenjiro Shirabu who was here to lead the protocol and make sure that everything went as it should be in the standards of the council, and Semi Eita who was one of the resident assistants and therefore acquainted with most of the school population, Ushjima leaned off of using his debilitating voice anymore.

“We’re starting now with the incident report”, multiple sighs of relief were heard across the room as Ushijima uttered these words with a normal voice.

It was still as firm and stern as before, with an almost lackluster tone behind it, but it no longer had any effect on the students around him.

“Why are we doing this here though?”, Iwaizumi was clearly annoyed, but the first to pose the question that was in everyone’s head.

“Normally we fill out the reports and send them to you, why the sudden change?”

“We already filled them out and dent them in”, Akaashi remarked while pulling out the reports from his bag, “you asked us to make another report today and then hold a beta committee meeting”

“We should let Ushijima continue”, Shirabu reminded them, a stern look on his face as he cleared his throat.

Oikawa gave a disbelieving huff but kept quiet as Ushijima continued.

“This incident was brought to us before, that is correct. Still, as you should know the students council taked liberty in re-investigating every incident that comes in”, his hands hovered over a progress report that Asami recognized to be hers.

It was the first report that was documented immediately after the incident.

Cringing at the uncomfortable memory, she shook her head and threw a questioning glance to Akaashi.

He barely reacted, keeping his calm demeanor and focus that shifted between Asami and Ushijima. His hands were clasped over each other on the table, one finger tapping on his palm.

“So, as you state in your report the incident was accidental?”, Ushijima’s olive eyes pierced through Mikoto who tensed as she was addressed.

“Yes of course”, she exclaimed, her nervousness bubbling over into annoyance at the rude question.

“What kind of question is that?”, Asami leaned forward to look at the alpha, “is this going to be an interview?”, but as she finished her sentence ushijimas attention drifted towards the beta.

“I’m simply trying to confirm all information. So Asami you were the one who got the beta committee involved?”

“Yes, but it was-”

“You were the first responder then?”, he blatantly finished his questions with no regard of the beta’s stuttered explanations.

“Yeah, but-”

“How did you know that your friend would be in heat?”, he pressed again.

“Uh- wait”, Asami quickly brought her hands to her face to calm herself, “that’s really personal I shouldn’t-”

“Did you know her cycle schedule?”

A loud cough reverberated through the meeting and Ushijima looked where it came from but stayed on his course.

“You detected it?”, he finally asked and the beta nodded shakily.

Shirabu scribbled something down on his notepad and an underlying pressure filled the atmosphere around them.

“The incident could’ve been avoided then?”

“Huh?”, Asami choked out in disbelief, the accusation hanging in the air.

“Woah, wait a minute”, Iwaizumi started, and Mikoto rose from her seat about to start as well but Ushijima held up his hand before anyone could defend themselves.

This action left both the shorter alpha and the omega boiling inside, but the council heads eyes were trained on someone else.

“Oikawa Tooru”

The brunette stood tall and his eyes were aflame with anger, waiting for Ushijima’s next words.

“The same goes for you”.

Two scents overlapped and almost fought through the air, as the wooden smell clashed with the fragrance of stale coffee beans. Both were diluted and distorted by anger, as Oikawa stepped forward towards Ushijima with a feverish look on his face.

“Oi, Oikawa-”, Iwaizumi interjected, but not nearly close enough to stop his friend.

“How dare you say that to him?”, a firm yet high voice made everyone stop and look at Mikoto who had a bewildered expression on her features that hinted to her growing annoyance, “he hasn’t done anything wrong, it’s my fault for forgetting my suppressants isn’t it?”

“It’s nobody’s fault okay?”, Asami shot back while looking at Mikoto, still with a fearsome worry that clouded her eyes.

“Mikoto Ohara”, Ushijima spoke with his eyes fixed on the omega, “you are not at fault here. It would be unreasonable to blame a defenseless omega for such a thing. It’s the alpha’s and beta’s who should’ve acted. You’re the victim here”

“I’m the victim?”, Mikoto’s voice fell down a pitch and it felt like ice around her, as her gaze pierced through the alpha in front of her.

The omega took in for a moment what the alpha had just said before she realized what his implication was.

“Don’t liste-”, but before Asami could hold her friends arm in reassurance she backed away and took another step towards the council head.

“Don’t you dare use me in your little scheme here”, her voice rose and kept rising in volume, her eyes darting from place to place as she tried to keep calm,”If it’s anyone’s fault it is mine! I won’t stand here and let you make your own story up, I can speak for myself!”

“Mikoto-”

The omega turned around with a quick motion and silenced the beta’s reassurance with a single look before whipping her head back around to Ushijima.

“Who do you think you are? Shifting blame where you want to to make us all anxious and relive a memory we would much rather forget? You use your voice to make us submit, then you put Asami in a pinch, then you blame Oikawa and then you talk to me as if I’m some helpless person that can’t talk for herself?!”, short and high-pitched squeaks infiltrated Mikoto’s rant as she took a quick and hard breath before the scent of vanilla filled her senses and her shoulders slumped.

Her head focused on something on the floor while she held a finger up that pointed at nothing in particular before she craned her head back up and tried to start again, but another figure passed both Mikoto and Asami and walked towards Ushijima.

Akaashi’s jasmine scent enveloped everyone in the room as he walked and stood still after reaching the end of the table. His hands clasped over the stack of papers he now placed in front of the council members.

“As the head of the beta committee”, and his voice was almost as soothing as his scent, “I am asking you to accept this extensive secondary report. Everyone involved has explained the incident in detail here”.

His inquiry sounded more like a threat, but with Akaashi’s calm demeanor it was difficult to tell. Nobody saw it, but inside he was boiling with all kinds of emotions. He knew better than to be feisty in this situation, and all he wanted was to get out of this room. There were too many scents and too many things happening at once, and he was close to getting to his breaking point.

“But that’s why we brought you here”, Shirabu shot back with a glare before Ushijima nodded to himself and gestured that he accepted.

“Alright. I see that there are many emotions at play here”, his eyes found the figure of Oikawa behind Asami and Mikoto, and the two of them turned around to find something they definitely didn’t expect.

The vanilla scent that Kenma had exuded wasn’t made for the room intentionally, but in that moment only for one particular Alpha that had left the road of stability.

Kenma still had his arm stretched upwards so that his wrist dangled in front of Oikawa’s face, as the taller man held his head in his hand trying to hold himself back from just slumping into the chair.

The beta had an almost disgusted look on his face, like he hated what he was doing.

“Can we leave now?”, Kenma’s bored voice was an extreme contrast to all of the commotion from before, and he started moving as Ushjima gave the signal that they could leave.

Oikawa staggered behind the beta while Iwaizumi found himself next to Kenma, drinking in the more than soothing atmosphere.

As if in slow motion, everyone moved out of the room, leaving Akaashi as the last one to close the door of the meeting room behind him.

The stark scent of the council alpha’s in the room did not help the situation, and as the group walked through the violet coloured floor nobody uttered a word.

Only when they left the domain of the council and a staircase leading downwards appeared the group slumped down into the stairs and took some breaths before anyone could say anything.

Kenma sat down and whipped out his phone immediately, Iwaizumi held the rails of the stairway and pushed out a much needed groan that was followed by a violent shake of his head.

Oikawa and Mikoto both sat down by themselves and took separate steps to calm themselves for a short minute, the omega heaving in some breaths before settling down and the alpha merely massaging his temples and quietly sighing to himself.

Asami waited sometime while wringing her hands with a little more force than needed until Mikoto looked up to her and ushered her to sit next to her. With a hurry the beta sat next to her and whispered something before the omega gave her a weak smile and nodding. The beta slumped her head onto her shoulder until she started to sniff.

A low laugh came from Mikoto as she rubbed her back and called her beta friend a drama queen, and Asami replied with a sound that was half laughter half sob.

“You know what’s really stupid?”, Asami sniffed and sat up straight with a goofy smile.

“What?”, Mikoto asked meekly.

“I want to eat now”

“Asami”, the omega replied with a shake of her head but laughed nonetheless.

“What? I get sad then I eat!”

Mikoto looked at the taller girl with a knowing smile, “you want ramen?”

“Yes”.

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obaby-me · 4 years

Note

Ok how about this, all of the brothers (or Belphie if you can't) reacting to an m/c who died and became a very angry ghost

This was so hard. You gave me an out, and I instead took that as a challenge. And a helluva fuckin’ challenge it was.

I thought it’d be pretty repetitive if the MC died the same way each time, or haunted each person in the same way. So I tried to give a variety of scenarios for what an “angry ghost” might do. Haunt a specific person, haunt a place, and different ways to haunt someone. Hopefully you at least find it interesting.

Lucifer

You’re screaming. You’re sobbing. It’s an echo down the halls, a reminder of his guilt: Why?

Why wasn’t he there? Why did he let this happen? Why did it have to be you?

Why, why, why?

Lucifer knows why.

Because he’d scoffed at your warnings.

Because he wouldn’t even consider that anything could happen.

Because you were his.

And he was Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride. The first of the seven lords. None would oppose him. None would dare. He so adamantly believed so.

He should have been more careful. He should have listened. He should have been there.

He’ll shoulder the burden, just as he has with Lilith. But there was a small saving grace for his sister.

There was none for you. And you were resentful, and unforgiving. And you had every right to be.

So, he’ll bear this punishment; he’ll listen to every scream, and he’ll take every hit—because he knows this is what he deserves. He failed you, and he’s willing to pay for it.

If there’s even a modicum of hope to give you a chance at peace in the afterlife, he’ll do all he can to give it to you. It’s the least he can do.

Mammon

It hadn’t been anything to do with you. It shouldn’t have involved you in any way shape or form. You were an innocent bystander in a dispute between himself and a loan shark.

He was scum, everyone said so. You’d never thought so. You defended him when no one else would.

But in your death, he’d proved himself scum. Proved to you they were right.

It was his fault. All his fault. If he could be anything else other than greed incarnate, this wouldn’t have happened. If he’d never gambled himself away. If he hadn’t taken that loan. If he hadn’t then ignored that loan.

If he hadn’t, if he hadn’t, if he hadn’t. If, if, if.

You’re watching him constantly. Empty eyes boring holes in him, following him, judging him. You say nothing, but you communicate to him just fine just how much you hate him. Just how much you loathe him. Just as he deserves to be.

Despite the guilt he feels with your presence, despite the way his skin crawls when he sees you hovering around him, he doesn’t want you to leave. It’s sick, in a way. But it’s still you after all. And seeing you is a reminder of what was, what could have been. And he holds on to that, clings to it.

He hasn’t got anything else.

Leviathan

Levi’s use to being alone. But somehow, it’s lonelier now than it’s ever been before.

There’s a void in him he can’t fill. No game, no concert, no show, no manga ebbs the pain—the clench in his chest.

For once the excitable avatar is quiet, every so often, quiet sobs choking him until his ducts can’t produce much else. While he’s always been terrible eating, now it’s nearly non-existent. It’s only when his brothers demand and watch him eat that he manages to get anything down.

He spends most of him time lying in bed, sleeping because at least then he doesn’t have to feel it anymore.

Yet, there’s no real safety in sleep. You torment him. You’re shouting most of the time, though he never understands what you say. But he doesn’t need to. He knows what he is. He knows what he’s failed to do. He knows you know it too.

Sometimes you only sob, frustration welling up in your eyes, brows knit. You don’t bother to look at him. And he thinks that that’s worse than when you’re screaming.

If he could save you, spare you from this, stop your tears, make it so you stopped harboring so much hate, he’d do it in a flash.

He just hasn’t the first clue as to how.

Satan

His brothers are terribly concerned. There’s been an unusual increase of outbursts, violent and unreasonable. They’ve no idea what has come over him.

None know but him.

You’re uncontrollable, you’re inconsolable, you’re furious—and there’s no one who understands that feeling better than Satan himself.

What they’d done to you was unforgivable. The way he’d found you, unrecognizable as the bright beacon he’d known you to be, lifeless there on the floor—the rage he felt, indescribable.

You’d always been his much-needed balm. The one to soothe him, calm his temper, end his tantrums. All that yet remains of you is your fury, too stubborn to let go.

And now? Now you were fuel to his fire. Now you encouraged him to lose himself into his anger. You whisper into his ears—dark encouragements to indulge in.

He can resist you only for so long before you become demanding. He’ll appease you with whatever you suggest, letting go and wreaking havoc. But never enough to satisfy you. He makes sure to reign it just enough.

You can’t leave him alone again. He misses you. He misses you terribly. But you haven’t left him yet—you’re still here, so long as he holds on, so long as he rages, you’ll be here.

Asmodeus

Asmo visits the same alley every day. He brings a flower or two, sometimes a whole bouquet. It really depends on what the florist has—and he’s sure to bring the best.

It’s dark and it’s damp, and it’s cold and it smells. It sinks the reality of the horror you must have experienced here deep into his skin; crying out for help, left for dead on the pavement.

Just around the corner used to be a nightclub, one of the liveliest around. Demons would line up, right down into this very alley for a chance to get in there.

But the club’s since closed down. Occupied by just one.

Occasionally he’ll see a curious demon or two camped out inside the building, wondering if the rumors are true that a human haunt its walls.

You tend to verify it quickly. Violently. Sometimes they make it out without injury to more than their pride. Other times they’re lucky to be alive.

While Asmo doesn’t camp in, he does come to greet you at least once a day.

Sometimes you recognize him. You’re even happy to see him on some days. Asmo loves those days. He comes just for those chances, those moments. He holds on to those and stays for as long as you can hold your sense of self.

But it’s never for very long.

He has to leave quickly. Abandoned remnants of the club become weapons—chairs, tables, shards of broken bottles and windows.

You screech obscenities, you threaten death. Your form contorts warped by your hatred. Crawling, oozing, reliving that night where you cried for help, dragging yourself out of the club in attempt to find safety.

You suffer terribly and Asmo wishes desperately to relieve you of it. But you remember so little, and he has so few leads.

An entire club full of people and not a one remembers a thing—or doesn’t wish to say if they do. But one day he will. One day you’ll be freed of this. This he swears.

Beelzebub

Every week, on routine, Beel goes for a run. He runs mile after mile until he reaches the fields on the outskirts of the devildom where you were last seen alive.

At 6:57PM exactly, you flicker into existence and he watches as you float on a pre-determined path. You look as if you’re being carried by your arms, and you head moves wildly from side to side, eyes staring into air, but seeing something that causes you fear. He can see your mouth moving, he knows you’re screaming. You’re begging. You’re pleading.

You’re thrown to the ground and you flicker out. It’s a scene you play out, every week, on time, without fail. You’re carried away, and thrown to the ground. These are the final moments of your death. They’re the only hint he has to know what has happened to you.

You’ll be back again soon; he only has to wait. You’re being dragged this time, but to where he has yet to determine. He has to be quick. He has to be quiet. You can’t be alerted or you’ll break from the scene.

But he’s never been able to follow you yet. There’s always something that interferes. A branch out of place, an animal that rushes past, another demon camping out nearby.

And then his only lead he has disappears, only to be replaced by a nightmare instead.

The image of your battered, decomposing body rising to confront the distraction, as you screech and wail. You’re terrifying to see, to hear, but the worst is the way you latch on and thrash about, with a strength that tosses even the heaviest set demons to the ground.

It’s a heart wrenching experience every time to see you this way. It breaks him down, piece by piece; emotionally, physically. His meals have halved, and his workouts decreased. He cries more than he sleeps, and he does so little of both these days.

But he comes back every week. He comes back to try again. He has to. Your body is out there, somewhere, waiting to be found.

He couldn’t save you then.

But maybe he could save you now.

Belphegor

The avatar of sleep ironically gets very little these days. He struggles to stay awake, knowing that the second he falls asleep, he’ll be reliving the nightmare. Your pleas, your scream, your gasps for air, and that gargle of blood that choked you.

He’s terrified to sleep. And even more terrified of waking up.

When he wakes, he knows you’ll be there. Hovering just above him, pinning him down with a strength born of your malice. The lethargic demon who never would want to move now praying he could, but the paralysis you impose would never let him.

You wanted him to see. To remember.

You’ll replay your grief for him, re-enacting your death for him, wailing and begging the way you had in your final moments before quickly fading. The sleep he used to love you’ve warped into his greatest fear.

Nodding off feels dangerous. Like you’re waiting at the edge of his consciousness for him to drop.

The guilt of what happened was overwhelming, but the exhaustion even more so.

He’ll do anything to make it stop. If only he had any strength to do so.

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justsomewhump · 4 years

Text

Memories Revealed (12/?)

@killian-whump’s original piece is here, and you can read my additions from the beginning here.

Warnings: Rape, memory wipe, a bit of blood (for this chapter).

Tagging @sherlockianwhovian, @hookaroo, @hollyethecurious, @mathildia, @kingofmyheart14, @wyntereyez and @cocohook38. If you want to be tagged/untagged, hit me up!

Word count: 1.4k AO3

Set in 3x19

Killian felt that by anger and despair alone he could bust the trunk door open. It wouldn't do him any good, though. Zelena wanted him close to Emma for her own plans. Maybe he could use that chance to finally come clean to her.

Before he had time to think about Henry and Zelena's threat against him, the trunk was opening again, this time only Rumpelstiltskin standing above him.

"Missed me already, Crocodile?" Killian said.

"Don't talk," Gold all but hissed. "Don't say another word."

Killian scoffed. "Do yourself a favour then, and put that blasted rag back where it was, cause I'm not-"

He was cut short by Gold reaching down and grabbing him by the lapels of his coat, lifting him up slightly. "Shut up. Just shut up."

He was breathing hard on him, and for the first time since meeting him as the Dark One, Killian felt fear in his presence. Gold looked feral, as if he was barely holding back his rage. After a few seconds of intense staring, he dragged Killian out of the trunk, only to push him face down back inside when his feet found the ground.

Killian grunted, the quick and abrupt movements making him dizzy. "What are you doing?!"

Gold didn't reply; he only leaned forward and undid Killian's leather pants, lowering them down to his knees.

That was enough of an answer.

"No! Stop!" Killian said, squirming under Gold's weight over him.

Gold also seemed to be struggling, still breathing hard.

His face pressed against the bottom of the truck, Killian couldn't turn his head enough to see, though he knew very well what was coming.

There was no preparation though. He could have sworn that Gold had just stabbed him.

It took him a few seconds to be able to hear anything but his own wails, to feel anything but Gold's hard cock slamming inside him. The edge of the truck was pushing down on his stomach, and his restrained arms were being squeezed between his and Gold's bodies.

And Gold was moaning hard above him, but not in a way Killian would imagine as pleasant. If anything, Gold sounded to be in pain himself.

Gold raised up a little, alleviating the pressure on Killian's back, but allowing himself to go deeper, and Killian's breath was cut short by gasps of pain. Tears filled his eyes, and by now the side of his face was rubbing against the hard surface of the bottom.

In the absolute chaos, a memory of something Swan had told him during their road trip from New York City to Storybrooke entered his consciousness, about time feeling relative.

It couldn't have been hours, then, that he'd been like this. It only felt like it.

His face felt raw, and probably bleeding, but that was the least of his worries by the time Gold finally gasped and finished inside him.

Very few things could have given him the strength to turn around and look at Gold right then. He hadn't expected the sound of Gold sobbing being one of them.

Gasping himself, he lifted his head, ignoring the spots of blood where it had just been laying, and he turned as much as he could.

Gold was still inside him, still grabbing his hips, but his face was down and shaking with sobs.

Killian was speechless.

Gasping hard and without raising his head, Gold pulled away and simply collapsed next to one of the car's wheels. Killian bent his knees, using his own weight to drag himself out of the trunk, and rested his head against the back of the car as he looked at him, still speechless. Something wet and hot was running down his cheek, but even if his hand wasn't restrained he wouldn't care enough to check if it was tears or blood.

Killian was slightly shaking himself, his quick gasps forming condensation on the metal.

Gold was full-on crying; he only covered his exposed crotch with his hands, seemingly too upset to be able to dress himself. Tears were dropping down to his lap as his shoulders were still shaking.

For one single moment, Killian allowed himself a moment to feel sympathy, being surprised at how less it hurt than hating the man, even after he'd just... done that.

Feeling too tired already, he closed his eyes and waited. His backside was still exposed, and he was getting cold. Then Gold, he assumed, grabbed him and carelessly pushed him back into the trunk, putting Killian's pants back on.

Killian opened his eyes and looked at him. Gold still looked upset and shaken, his eyes red from crying, but his face quickly turned cold. His hand took on a purple glow as he put it over Killian's face, and he felt the sting from the scrapes there disappear. Then an object appeared in Gold's hand and started to glow with magic too.

A single train of magic flowed from Killian towards the object, then darkness.

Killian stood frozen, looking at the dreamcatcher in his hand, but this time knowing the shock was different than the one he usually had while watching these.

He examined the dreamcatcher's condition as his senses slowly came back. It looked brand new, the feathers clean, the wood shining, not a single thread jumping out from the thread woven around the wooden circle.

He swallowed hard. Gold probably hadn't watched this one much, if at all. No surprise there, considering it contained such a vulnerable moment for himself.

Then why the hell keep it?

Killian sighed deeply and threw it away, not caring where it landed. He rested his arms on his knees and dropped his head. Part of him hated that Gold still kept this souvenir, that he still wanted to remember this moment even though he did not wish to relive it. The other part was glad, because if Gold had kept that one, everything that Gold had done to him had been recorded. Killian wouldn't have to lose sleep wondering if there had been any dreamcatchers Gold had destroyed for whatever reason.

But still, he wondered what the point was. Even if he had watched it at least once, all he would see-

He froze again when he realized; the dreamcatchers were from Killian's point of view, and there was always an indescribable... aura of emotions while watching them. It was always like living them all over again, not like simply watching a film.

At the point Gold made this dreamcatcher, he had already made about three more. At least, he thought with a shiver and casting a glance at the box of unwatched dreamcatchers. If he'd known they worked that way... if when watching them he also got an impression of Killian's feelings and emotions...

A small sob escaped his mouth and he brought his arms closer to his chest. It was like a new way that Gold had violated his body and mind.

Was that another reason why he'd apparently enjoyed the dreamcatcher from Neverland?

He closed his eyes and shrunk into himself, feeling bile raise in his throat.

Still, he tried to put the pieces together to understand why Gold had kept this specific memory. Killian remembered a wide array of emotions he'd felt in each one; hate, disgust, self-loathing, pain, fear, shame, even that bloody arousal... but this was the one and only time he'd felt sympathy.

Where Gold had just raped him bloody and all Killian thought was how much pain he must have been in after losing his son. Where Killian couldn't even think of the word rape.

Killian sighed again; it would be an endless mystery, much like his inability to accuse the one responsible because he was lucky enough to have died already. But as his mind begged him for an explanation, all Killian could give was that Gold had simply wanted a reminder that, for once, his nemesis had felt sympathy for him, even - or especially - after the pain Gold had caused him.

He looked at the discarded dreamcatcher. Gold had died quickly, but had formed a bond of sorts with the other Killian by then, enough to sacrifice his own life to save him. Would he have done something with those dreamcatchers, had he had the time to prepare himself for his demise? Would he have done something with him? Would he apologize? If Killian feeling sympathy for him once was enough to hold onto a memory - or a souvenir, at least - that was vulnerable for Gold as well, what could his relationship with the other Killian have lead him to?

A tear fell from his eye. Was this the time to come clean to his other self?

Note: Most of y’all have already left kudos and comments on AO3, and I appreciate them still, but I’d be lying if I said new ones don’t make my day so if you feel inclined to, hop over to AO3 as well :)

I’m preparing another update which I will post very soon! (famous last words on abandoned wips)

#I write thangs #Memories Revealed #content warning #nonconsensual #Golden Hook #Killian Jones

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