#i think Styx are trying to come back to me
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You know the band hyperfixation is truly real when you’ve had one or more of the members show up in your dreams.
Bonus points for the times it’s the highlight of your day before it’s even started.
#random#insanitypost#(even the ones that were just brief background appearances count)#i think Styx are trying to come back to me#pretty sure that was Dennis and Tommy bickering in the background of my dream last night#you guys have done it (@ my Styx mutuals)#I’d also like to thank Squeeze for five rock star dreams since February#Winger and Dokken you guys are the best#they joined up with Ratt Cinderella and Def Leppard to give me ‘Snowed In’ in 2017#hands-down the most serotonin overloading dream I’ve ever had#but Supertramp was the best in 2022#and REO Speedwagon have been great (particularly Neal Doughty)#shoutout to all the bands that joined in on the pure chaos of a dream I had back in November#November of 2022 would have totally sucked without that dream to save it
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can i request ruggie and kalim with a s/o who’s like jessica rabbit? :3
hehe yes<3
ruggie bucchi
before you two got together, ruggie absolutely found himself feeling utterly helpless and nervous around you, believe it or not. though, he plays most of it off with his typical self, you made his mouth go dry sometimes or whenever he's trying to be his deceitful and clever he slips up and even makes a fool of himself at times. he hated it,,, you seemed to outsmart him all the time.
when you visit him during magishift practice or especially games, he finds himself trying so hard to be impressive in front of you. hence him doing his cool hanging-upside-down trick on the broom many times. even though you always adore anything from him, he feels such a sense of satisfaction whenever you have a look of admiration- as you're someone who isn't the easiest to please haha. after a longer and tense game when you come up and hug him tightly pressing a kiss to him - he is smitten and laughs out of nervousness.
he wants to make you happy,, even if that means doing extra work so he can't buy and get you something he thinks would suit your tastes. though you do tell him that's not what you want from him he still tries. it may not be as extravagant, but he loves how it when you kiss him all over. makes everything worth it.
kalim al-asim
he is an absolute loverboy, he is head over heels for you. he is the epitome of that "what do you see in that guy?" "he makes me laugh" scene. because he lives to make you smile and laugh whenever you're with him. he just follows you around and is literally content even being in your presence.
kalim does adore the concern you hold for him when you were dealing with overblots... but the poor guy can't fathom you being concerned for him, he was worried about you. completely tackled you in a hug when you came back from styx. sighing in relief, he still knew you were tough- keeping your cool as always.
he gets all giggly and blushes whenever you press kisses against his face. he won't even seem to notice the lipstick marks left on him. if someone were to point out a smudged one on the corner of his cheek, he'd be flustered a bit and blurt out "oh! thanks hehe" and rub it off. he doesn't seem to mind; he loves it in fact.
#she was my awakening when i was younger#twst#disney twst#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twst headcanons#twst imagines#twst wonderland#twisted wonderland#disney twisted wonderland#kalim x reader#ruggie x reader#kalim al asim x reader#ruggie bucchi x reader
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here, have a little modern steddie meet-cute. meet-ugly, maybe? idk.
1k words, mostly dialogue
"uber for, uh," the guy in the beemer at the curb looks at the phone in his hand, "eddie m.?"
"hey, that's my name!" eddie shouts, stumbling toward the car. the world is tipping sideways a little, but it's been a good night.
he wrenches open the passenger side door and slides in.
"cool if i sit up front, man? i get motion sickness sitting in the back, and you would not like me when i'm motion sick."
"uh, sure?"
eddie pulls the door closed behind him and says, "so what's your name, pretty boy?"
"you don't check the app before getting into some random guy's car?" the guy asks with a huff.
"oh, no, i never order these things for myself." eddie laughs. he tries to think back, remember how many jameson shots he put back tonight. can't. oh, well. "my roommate always sets it up beforehand when i come down to the styx for a show."
"a show? like a concert?"
"uh, no. drag show. styx is a gay bar." the guy's quiet at that. "that a problem? still dunno your name."
"oh. steve," the guy - steve - says shortly. "no, it just... looks more like a... metal bar, or something."
"sometimes things are both, can you believe it! they do a drag show last wednesday of every month. good show tonight, all the girls looked great." he kicks his feet up on the dashboard of the car, watches steve's eyes cut sideways at them as he does. "do you like drag shows, steve?"
he's testing the waters, feeling steve out to see if he should be worried about getting into some random guy's car outisde a gay bar with a dead phone. eddie's definitely had a little too much tonight. he's probably got glitter in his hair. there's definitely black lipstick smeared across his cheek from when allison chaynz planted one on him earlier during her set.
"only been to a few, but yeah. they're a good time. good show."
safe, then. tentatively.
eddie studies steve for a moment, trying to figure him out. he's got this thing he does sometimes, in an uber; eddie's an easy read - he gets into an uber and the driver immediately flips their spotify over to a metal playlist.
the driver's are usually easy to read too, and it's eddie's favorite game; he tends to know when he's got a country boy behind the wheel, or an emo transplant from the mid aughts, or the indie girlies with their iced coffees and perpetual dark undereye circles that all the concealer in the world can't hide.
the guy looks like he wears teenage boy deodorant and smells like repressed trauma. he has the indie girlie dark circles under his eyes, an apple watch strapped to his wrist. rich boy. drives a beemer. good hair, stupid highlights. there's a tube of burt's bees cherry lip balm in the center console and a days old energy drink in the cupholder.
"hmmm, the front bottoms," he decides at last, after staring at steve for what must have been an uncomfortably long time.
"i'm sorry?"
"i said, the front bottoms."
"is that a... what's the word... a euphemism?"
"no, steeeeve. it's a band. check 'em out sometime, your daddy issues'll thank you. do you like music, steve?"
"sure."
eddie clicks his tongue. "smells like bullshit. no one who likes music says sure when someone asks if they like music."
they're stopped at a stoplight. from behind the wheel, steve is studying him right back, looking him up and down, his gaze coming to rest once again on eddie's shoes on the dash.
"get your feet down," steve says, pushing at eddie's shins. "do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"
"fine, fine. so if you don't listen to music, steve, what do you listen to in this fancy bmw?"
"sports, mostly," steve shrugs. "podcasts sometimes."
"oh, boy, you are a walking red flag, aren't you? shame you're so pretty."
"well what about you? what do you listen to?"
"guess."
"i dunno, probably that metal shit. five finger whatever, or something."
eddie presses his hand to his chest. "five finger - oh, stevie, i am wounded. i wouldn't be caught dead listening to bro rock."
out of the corner of his eye, he definitely catches a smile from steve.
steve holds an aux cable out to him. "here, then. wow me. show me some real metal or whatever."
"god, i'd love to take you up on that," eddie says, huffing out a little laugh. he holds his phone up. "this sucker's been dead for hours."
this time steve's the one to click his tongue. "shame."
"truly. so what's your story, steven? what's got you out at three in the morning?"
"it's my night off," steve shrugs. "just started night shift at the hospital, trying to get used to the new sleep schedule."
"mmm, the hospital. you a nurse?"
"i am. trauma nurse."
"nice. ever see any gnarly injuries?"
"had a pretty fucked up dog bite come in the other night."
"shit."
"yeah." another stoplight, another unsubtle once over from steve. "so what about you? what do you do?"
"line cook."
steve's eyes linger on him a little longer than necessary. "oh, but i'm the walking red flag. got it."
"whoa," eddie laughs. "what's that supposed to mean?"
"i've dated line cooks. everyone's dated a line cook."
"sounds like something a slut would say, steve. craziest dick you've ever had, huh?"
"mmm."
it's not a denial.
they're getting close to eddie's building now, and that's an actual shame. because steve's cute. he needs a haircut maybe, and the stubble around his mouth and chin is just on the wrong side of five o'clock shadow, but he's got these distracting little moles along his face and neck and arm that eddie's been itching to play connect the dots with since he got in the car.
"wait, i know this building," steve says as he slows at the curb and looks at the address on his phone again. "my roommate's girlfriend lives in this building."
it clicks into place, then, for eddie.
"oh, shit! you're robin's steve!"
steve's eyebrows draw together as he gapes at eddie, and then his eyes go wide with realization. "chrissy's ed?"
"eddie," he corrects. "gotta be a level twenty friend to call me ed. and chrissy's the only level twenty friend i'll ever have."
"noted. good to finally meet you, man. i, uh. i guess this is you, then, huh?"
"yeah, sure is. maybe i'll see ya around." eddie goes to get out of the car.
"oh, you will," steve says, his smile lopsided and goofy. "i'll make sure of it."
"hold ya to it," eddie promises with a wink.
steve wiggles his fingers in a flirtatious wave as eddie walks backward on the sidewalk toward his building.
so robin's steve is cute. maybe he should have been letting chrissy set them up this whole time.
still. sports and podcasts. guy's a walking red flag. who knows, maybe they're green. eddie's never been able to see the difference anyway.
#steddie#steddie fic#bee's blurbs#idk what this is honestly#it came to me in a vision#buckingham#if you squint
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slow motion, double vision - [w.scobell]
wordcount: 0.8K
warnings: self harm (reader)
requested: yes!
a/n: please do not read this if you struggle with self harm and won’t feel comfortable reading about it (it’s not described at all and reader doesn’t do it in this but it’s said that she has and a brief description of her wrist is also in this. don’t read this if you aren’t going to cope with that. and if you are struggling w self harm, reach out to me, please!! <3)
Another day on the Percy Jackson set. Today, we are filming a scene between Percy and Annabeth, an argument.
Walker gives me a grin once he’s finished up with the makeup crew. “Hey, you,” he says with an easy smile.
I try to replicate it. Walker has this gift. He’s so good at it. At everything. Life, acting, smiling.
All the things I struggle with.
“Hey,” I say back. “Looking good.”
“Says you.” He gives me an appreciative look. “My girlfriend looks adorable.”
I immediately get flustered. No matter how many days I’m dating Walker for, I think him calling me his girlfriend will always make me flutter inside.
“I'm not your girlfriend anymore,” I joke. “I’m Annabeth Chase, Seaweed Brain.”
He grins. “See you out there.”
As soon as he’s gone, my heart sinks again. It’s like he’s the only thing in the world that brings any kind of light to my darkness. The only smile on my sad face. The only sweet words I can say.
“The chair is the bargain,” Walker, as Percy, says. “One of us goes in, the other gets the shield.”
“I’ll do it,” I say, stepping forward, a determined look on my face.
“What? What a minute!” Walker reaches over and grabs my wrist. A flicker of pain crosses my features, but quick as lighting, I go back into character, hoping he didn’t notice.
“Whoever goes in isn’t coming out!” I say, my voice rising a little at the end.
“I know, that’s why I said wait.”
“This isn’t the arch, Seaweed Brain,” I snap in response.
“Cut!” someone yells, and I instantly break character, as does Walker.
The directing team is talking amongst themselves, which is usually a sign for us to just chat and wait for them to be ready to film again.
“Hey,” Walker comes close to me, his voice quiet. “Are you okay?”
I look at him, feigning a frown. “Course I’m okay. Why?”
He looks concerned, his blue eyes staring deep into mine. “You flinched just now. When I grabbed you.”
“Oh,” I laugh, which comes out so brittle I almost wince. “Nah, it’s all good. Just acting.” I’m brushing him off, and he knows that.
“I’m gonna grab a drink,” I tell him, and disappear before he can argue with me about it.
He finds me in the bathrooms. I’m standing over a sink, gripping the sides like a dramatic Draco Malfoy-wannabe. I have tears in my eyes, but the second I hear someone behind me, I brush them away.
“Y/n?” Walker asks quietly. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
I can’t answer, his sweet words just making me want to cry harder. I can only shake my head.
He buries me in a hug, his chin on top of my head, and his arms encircling me tightly. “Love,” he says again, speaking softly into my hair, “tell me what’s wrong.”
“Walker, I—“ I cannot bring myself to say the words, so I pull back from the hug, and pull up the sleeve of my Annabeth jacket. Across the inside of my left wrist are stripes of harsh red, jagged and fresh.
Walker’s eyes shatter, a million emotions and words and thoughts all inside their clear blue at once. His mouth opens a little.
“Y/n—“
“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I’m so so sorry.”
He immediately folds me back into his arms. “You have no reason to be sorry,” he says roughly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you feel this awful about yourself. I’m so sorry you felt like you had no other choice. But please—“ I can tell by his voice that he’s upset. Somehow, that makes me feel even worse.
“Please come talk to me before you do something like that,” he whispers.
“Okay,” I manage.
“Do you promise?” he asks, his voice ragged.
“I promise on the River Styx.”
I feel his smile through my hair. “I love you.”
I smile too, his warmth and love spreading through me like an antidote. “I love you too, Walk.”
He pulls away from the hug, his fingertips brushing the broken skin of my wrist as lightly as he can. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get this cleaned and dressed properly, okay?”
I let him take me by the hand, and for the first time in my life, I feel completely and totally safe and understood.
With him.
#walker scobell#percy jackson#pjo#fanfiction#fanfic#pjo show#pjo tv show#pjo series#walker scobell fanfic#walker scobell x reader#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson fanfiction#percy jackson and the olympians
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Book 7, Chapter 7, Episode 101:
So the DiaRamshackle squad landed in Ignihyde, where they meet the completely aware Idia. They had thought they got out of a dream into the "real world", but it turns out they're just outside of Lilia's dream but still within Malleus' magical domain expansion-- which is Idia's "dream" now. Proof of this is because Sebek's still wearing his armor.
At this point in time, apparently they haven't really conversed with Idia yet. Sebek barely remembers that Idia's the Ignihyde housewarden LOL.
Sebek: "... That's right! I knew I've seen that face before. You're Ignihyde's housewarden! Back at the entrance ceremony, you attended in some sort of board-like thing. This might be the first time I've seen you in proper form."
Sebek: "I am from Diasomnia, First Year, Class D, Seat 33, Sebek Zigvolt!!" WHY IS HE SO ENTHUSIASTIC LMAO
Sebek: "This dopey man right here is Silver. Second Year, from the same dormitory!!" (DOPEY DSJKNDAS HE'S BASICALLY SAYING HE LOOKS HIGH LMAO)
Idia: "Are Malleus and co.'s ears still fine from being blasted by this boombox everyday at close-range..."
Silver: "Everyone, on alert! Idia-senpai, Grim, prefect, get behind me and Sebek!"
AND SO SUDDENLY THEY'RE GETTING ATTACKED??
Idia: "Wuh?! What's this all of a sudden?! Ow, ow! I'm getting crushed between hard muscles and hard armor!"
IDIA????? IS THIS THE RIGHT TIME AND PLACE TO BE COMMENTING ON MUSCLES OMFG LMAO
So the "darkness" have come for Idia because they sensed that someone needs to be lulled back to sleep lol.
Grim: "Malleus might pop up again to say "You're awake?"..!"
Sebek: "The "darkness" are fine, though I do not know if we can win against Lord Malleus without Sir Lilia..."
"No, we are ready!"
Sebek: "Whether it be the darkness, or Lord Malleus... We will definitely strike back!!!"
Idia: "Uogh... Wai-- too close... Can't... breathe..!"
HE'S LITERALLY SHAKING BACK AND FORTH HELP
AND THEN SUDDENLY SOMEONE SPEAKS!
???: "About Malleus and the dark shadows... You don't need to worry about them for a while. I think he's spending considerable "resources" trying to get Lilia Vanrouge back to sleep."
Ortho: "Hehe, sorry for making you worry."
Apparently, Ortho's appearing in monitor mode for now because trying to appear as his usual form in Idia's dreams causes some serious errors.
Ortho: "Anyway... Everyone, brother's face is already turning blue from asphyxiation. Can you let him go now?"
So the two let go of him and Idia let's in a HUGE GASP FOR AIR
Idia: "ohh I almost descended to the underworld... Tha-thanks for the save, Ortho..."
So anyway, Sebek starts questioning the two what they mean by Malleus using up resources to put Lilia to sleep. Ortho starts the explanation by recounting events. That during Lilia's farewell party, Malleus put everyone to sleep-- no, froze time and space itself. But Ortho in particular managed to escape from the island through communications satellite. Everyone was shocked because Ortho could do something like that?! Ortho just laughs and says his "peculiarity" was helpful, because while he's not a mage and therefore cannot have a unique magic, he can transmit his "soul" through radio waves.
Sebek: "Loathe as I am to admit... but human advancement in machinery is amazing."
Silver chimes in and praises that Ortho's uniqueness is something they can never attain no matter how hard they train. Ortho moves on, explaining that he went to STYX headquarters and there, they hatched the plan for Ortho to infiltrate Sage Island in order to analyze Malleus' unique magic, Fae of Maleficence.
#a lot of people are looking for me at work...#i can't do this continuously i'm stressed#maybe i'll just tackle some parts that i like#like what i used to do dsjkadskja#twisted wonderland#ventique rambles#twst book 7 spoilers#ortho shroud#idia shroud#twst silver#sebek zigvolt#twst grim
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proper compensation
Genre/Tropes: No notable ones!!
Summary: Leona and Jamil went chasing Grim around Styx and got him back to you safely. It's only fair you offer them proper compensation.
Author's Comments: this was inspired by a dialogue part between leona and jamil during the phantom node searching in chapter 67 sector eight. i was so inspired that i wrote a four page oneshot for it for some reason. this might have made me a jamil stan. i dont know how all this ends because i havent finished it yet so this might be canon divergent (it probably is) so dont kill me please OKAY THANK YOU
~~~~~
There’s a knock on Ramshackle’s front door in the late hours of the afternoon. After everything that happened at Styx, you refused to let Grim out of your sight, and that includes leaving him to answer the door. He’s been unusually tired, content to accept your affection and sleep in your arms, happy and safe with the person he trusts. You hold him gently as you stand up, walking towards the door. You manage to stoop over just enough to get it open, and you’re met with the sight of two familiar people.
“Can I help you?” you ask, raising a confused brow. You don’t normally see Jamil and Leona together like this, much less together here.
“We got you back your furball.” Leona grunts, waving dismissively at the cat monster curled up in your arms, “It’s perfectly reasonable to compensate us for the return.”
“Indeed.” Jamil smiles, but there’s something so ingenuine about it that you can’t help but shiver.
“I…don’t have any money.” you fumble, trying to think up something to give them, “I can…do chores? Or something?”
You doubt they would accept your dusty furniture, and if there’s one thing you’ve learned from people at NRC, it's that everything comes with a price, and you best pay it in full if you don’t want to get screwed over.
“Nah. I got Ruggie. I don’t need another errand runner.” Leona shakes his head, looking more and more like a predator as the seconds pass.
“I can handle my chores myself. Make no mistake, I’m used to taking care of Kalim.” Jamil steps closer, reaching out to touch your hand, “Come on now, Prefect. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.”
You’re pretty sure you have figured it out, even if it seems like you haven’t. Because if they don’t want to exploit you like Azul did, they probably want what Ace usually begs for when he does something right (although he detests the word beg.)
“I…think I have an idea.” you confess, gnawing at your lower lip, “Just…let me put down Grim. He fell asleep in my arms and-”
“Oh, please. Allow me.” Jamil swoops his arms under Grim and plucks him out of your arms as easily as yanking a flower out of the grass. You yelp and gape at the boy as he waltzes into Ramshackle without a care in the world.
Like he owns the place.
Sneaky.
“What’s your idea then, herbivore?” Leona snickers, leaning against the doorframe like he also owns the place, “I would love to hear it.”
“Um…would you guys accept kisses as compensation?” you say, wrinkling your nose at just how stupid it sounds when you say it out loud.
Leona lets out a barking laugh, throwing his head back and all. You feel even more embarrassed now, taking his amusement as rejection.
“Oh, you’re smarter than you look.” he huffs, voice thick with amusement, “You nailed it, herbivore. Now are you going to pay up or not?”
You can feel your face growing warm as he leans in, eyes staring straight into your soul as if this doesn’t affect him one bit. Was he so used to teasing and moments like this that they didn’t even phase him anymore? Or were you just a flustered fool, dancing in the palm of his hand?
You ultimately decide that if it means receiving affection from him, you don’t care.
And so you allow him to brush his nose over your cheek, and you allow his breath to fan over your lips as you shut your eyes in anticipation. He laughs at that, too, his hot breath only making you more and more anxious.
“Are you going to kiss me or not?” you grumble, furrowing your brow with your eyes still clamped shut.
“Aww, do you want a kiss?” Leona teases, and you’re about to yell at him when he follows up with a quiet, “Well, fine then.”
And then he’s kissing you.
Your back is pressed against the doorframe as he cradles you against him. His hands are placed securely at your waist as he tilts his head, pushing against you as he searches for more, more. Your head is spinning with it all, and you’re certain if Leona wasn’t holding you up you’d be crumpled over on your doorstep right now. There’s a clear smugness in his movements, especially when he hooks a hand under your thigh and pulls it up. Your face could not be any warmer than it is right now, especially when he squeezes the flesh gently and his claws rake against your skin.
He breaks away and you gasp, the sound soft and bewildered. You brush your fingers along your lower lip, and even though it feels like it's burning it doesn’t burn.
Leona gazes at you, his expression so smug you have half a mind to wipe it off his stupidly handsome face, but then he turns on his heel and starts walking away,
“Well, that’s enough for me.” he yawns as if he didn’t just kiss you breathless (like a satisfied predator), “See ya around, herbivore. Thanks for the compensation.”
You manage to call out a shaky goodbye to him in your shock, mind still reeling and unorganized from the kiss. Why can’t anyone on this campus be predictable?! Never in a million years did you think Leona and-
Wait, Jamil. He didn’t leave.
You were so distracted by Leona that you forgot about Jamil and the fact that he basically shouldered his way into your dorm.
He’s still around here somewhere (unless he’s jumped out of a window, which is too much of a Kalim thing to do so you dispel the thought with a giggle.)
Great Seven, you’re not even close to being recovered from what just happened, but there’s no use delaying the inevitable. You make your way to you and Grim’s bedroom, hoping Jamil didn’t just dump him somewhere. Surely he’s responsible enough to not do that, right?
You discover that he does know where Grim’s bed is. Grim is still fast asleep, tucked away in his bed. You laugh again to yourself as you realize that Jamil probably still has the layout of Ramshackle memorized from when he stayed over during SDC.
“Yes, he’s fine. I made sure he didn’t wake up.” Jamil says from behind you, and you jump at the unexpected noise. Spinning around to glare at him (though the expression holds no malice), you jolt backward when you see just how close he is. He rolls his eyes at your mock annoyance and jerks his head to the left. He’s holding a tray of tea and snacks in his hands, and while the gesture would be nice from almost anyone else, you figure he’s going to use this against you later.
You enter your bedroom anyway. Jamil follows you silently and sets the tray of treats on your nightstand.
“Do you want the same thing as Leona?” you ask, sitting at the edge of the bed.
Jamil makes a quiet huffing sound under his breath but doesn’t answer your question. You let him pour the tea and hand you a teacup, and watch him as he pours a cup of tea for himself. You don’t want to push too hard, but he was the one that came to you in the first place.
“Jamil.” you say softly, reaching out and cupping his cheek, “You said you wanted compensation but all you’ve done is help me out. I need to pay you back, right?”
His eyes flicker toward you, and he sighs.
“I don’t want what Leona wants, Prefect. I was just teasing you earlier.” he mumbles, shutting his eyes as if he’s exhausted (which he probably is), “I would like to rest here with you. That’s all.”
Your mouth forms an o shape as you realize that no, the tea and snacks were not to trap you in yet another favor, but were meant to be part of your favor to him. There’s a stab of guilt in your stomach, and you swallow it uncomfortably.
“I thought the tea and snacks were for another favor you wanted paid back.” you confess, fisting your hands in your lap, “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, don’t be.” his tired expression turns wicked in a split second, his eyes gleaming with mischief, “I plan to take up more of your time than Leona did. This is me paying you back.”
“That’s too many transactions.” you murmur, placing a gentle hand on his upper arm, “Just come here. “
Jamil follows your lead and clambers into bed, the springs squeaking under the extra weight. You’ve done well to keep your voice low for Grim, so much so that Jamil’s heavy sigh is the loudest sound that's been made in the room by either of you this afternoon. He slumps over against your shoulder, the top of his head bumping against your chin as his shoulders sag. You feel your heart twinge in your chest as you wrap a steady arm around him and rest your head on him, too.
You certainly wouldn’t mind if either of them wanted to do this again.
#auburn's fics <3#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland#disney twst x reader#twst x reader#leona x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#leona kingscholar fluff#jamil x reader#jamil viper x reader#jamil viper fluff
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Our Time | JJK (Six)
Summary: After an accident and being in a coma for three months, you finally wake. But the last nine years of your life have been completely erased. You rely on none other than your best friend, Jungkook, to help regain your memories and yourself. But what happens when the truth of your missing time starts unraveling and it isn’t all it’s made out to be?
Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader (Detective!Jk x Graphic Designer!OC) side pairing: Seokjin x Reader
Genre: crime au, fluff, heavy angst, smut, romance, darker themes, amnesia au. Best friends to ???
Word Count: 10.4k
Warnings: ANGSTY chapter ahead. swearing, frustrations of amnesia, detailed descriptions of anxiety and panic attacks, mentions of blood, mentions of child abduction, lots of crying, confrontation, allusions to infidelity within marriage, feelings of betrayal, mention of suicide/death, obvious alcoholism, umm I think that’s it.
a/n: happy valentines day💕 (I haven’t slept yet so its still vday for me hehe) this is not a romantic chapter at all but I hope you still enjoy it. Thanks for those who have been patiently waiting for this chapter since ive been dealing with a lot lately. Well, I hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think! Send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist or just want to chat :]
© taestefully-in-luv
Previous --- Next
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Generally speaking, light can serve as a symbol of life.
When there is light, it touches and beautifully blinds with bright, shimmering hope. But for you, your eyes have cast any ray of shining light away. And your entire view has been enveloped in the arms of darkness.
If light is a symbol of life but you and your soul are being carried on a ferry across the river of Styx towards the underworld…then is it safe to assume you are no longer living?
Have you truly died on the inside?
And this is your stygian reality?
Because now, in your world, light no longer exists.
You’re thankful for those people who know how to naturally calm others down. Those people who remain collected during a crisis. Those people who can snap someone out of there demise even when they’re rattled as well. Those people who remind you to breathe even when they’ve forgotten.
Well, Subin is not one of those people.
“He knows we’re coming, right?” Subin aggressively tries to exit the parking lot of the market, her eyes going everywhere yet you aren’t so sure she’s even seeing properly.
“I—I talked to the nurse, s-she said to come now. The doctor should be free…fuck, I hope.” You look out the window, your head spinning while your chest grows tighter and tighter.
Breathing with calm, even breaths is hard.
It’s even harder because Subin is tense, her fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel as she tries to catch her own breath.
She’s always been the type to cry when others cry. Panic when other’s panic. So on and so forth.
You try your hardest to take a breath before speaking, “Can you drive?” You rest the side of your head against the window, your vision looking blurrier and darker. “J-Just pull ov—”
“—Shit, I’m so sorry, y/n.” Subin’s voice shakes, her eyes trying so hard to stay focused on the road. “I’m okay. I’m okay. You’re okay?” She quickly glances at you, “You’re okay, right?”
You rest your palm against your rapid heart, eyes squeezing shut at the pain and discomfort your chest is feeling. You need to breathe. Relax.
“I-I’m fine.” You say as composed as you possibly can. “Water? Water? Do you…do you have water in here…?” You tiredly lean your head back, chest rising and falling quickly. “I feel sick.”
“Sick?” Subin clears her throat, though she’s panicking herself, she tries to get her shit together. “Like how?” She glances at you again, “I think there’s a bag behind your seat. Throw up in it if you need to….”
“Water, Subin.” You feel your throat closing in on you, “Do you have—”
“—Um,” Subin keeps one hand on the steering wheel while the other frantically feels the sides and below her car seat. “I think there’s a bottle…” She continues to search, the car slightly swerving but you hardly notice. “Here!”
You manage to open your eyes, sudden relief filling your veins when you see a half empty bottle of water. Subin pushes it towards you before she’s urging you to have some.
“Drink slowly.” She keeps a worried eye on you while driving as quickly as she can to the hospital.
The moment water begins trickling down your throat, you feel the dizziness that’s consumed you start to subside.
With half of that bottle of water in your system, your vision is less blurry and less dark.
Literally speaking, darkness doesn’t have a veil over your eyes any longer.
But figuratively speaking, not even an ounce of light shines in your world at all.
You still can’t breathe. Because how could you?
How could you with the knowledge you currently have?
You’re convinced you’re having a heart attack…Doctor Lee, however, isn’t convinced about that.
“You’re just panicking.” He tells you softly, his eyes trained on your expressions. “It’s okay. This is completely normal, y/n.”
You quickly shake your head, refusing to accept that it’s only your emotions here that are the problem.
“This is normal…” He reminds you again, a gentle hand patting your back. “Once you accept that this is normal, it’ll get easier to control it. You’re overwhelmed and that’s okay.”
“I-I can’t breathe.” You manage to tell him, fingers tugging at the collar of your shirt. You wish you could tear off your clothes, your skin, all the feelings that bombard you.
“You can breathe.” Doctor Lee brings his hand towards his own body, he motions upward now with both hands as he urges you to inhale deeply. “You’re breathing right now. You’ve been breathing this whole time…even when it was hard, you’re still breathing, y/n.”
He’s…right. Since the market, since the car, since waiting for Doctor Lee to show up in this tiny room—you’ve been breathing the entire time.
You try to nod, swallowing hard but it hurts.
Actually, it seems the physical pain is disappearing while emotional pain begins to sink it’s teeth into you. Pain is pain, you realize.
“Good,” Doctor Lee keeps his focus on you, “Can you give me a deep breath?”
You nod, trying your hardest to inhale a breath but it’s sharp and poisoned.
Your eyes slam shut, your entire body closing in on itself.
“Try to let go of a long breath for me,” Doctor Lee’s voice is soothing, “Feel everything. Gather all of it…and let it go with a long, long breath. Can you do that?”
Feel everything and let it go? How could you do that?
“I can’t.” You shake your head, eyes still slammed shut. “I just can’t.”
“You can.” He tells you, voice still calm. “I’m not asking you to sort through all your emotions right now and just let them go. No,” Doctor Lee sighs out for a moment before he’s pulling his chair out right in front of you and taking a seat. “I’m just asking you to recognize you have them and release them for a moment. That way you can gain more strength for when you eventually have to grab them again. You can’t get stronger if the panic you feel burdens you, y/n. Let’s breathe…”
You open your teary eyes, teeth digging into your bottom lip as harsh breaths make your entire body grow weaker. Doctor Lee looks pleased just at the fact you’ve opened your eyes. He nods his head with a tender smile before he starts breathing with you. In and out. Slow and rest assuring.
You aren’t sure how long it takes for you to have calm breaths again.
Doctor Lee doesn’t rush you. He gives you time and space to collect yourself. He’s aware that you are here because some memories have flooded your brain. And he’s aware that it had you drowning. He has told you countless times to reach out to him the moment something like this begins. You guess he anticipated this kind of reaction.
“Just in case, I still want to run some tests. I’ll get nurse Choi to do labs.” Doctor Lee is scribbling onto his clipboard, but his eyes are still on you. “I know today has been scary for you but I’m sure your results will be fine. It’s always better to be a little more precautious, don’t you think?”
Your limbs are weak, draped over this uncomfortable chair as you give Doctor Lee a noncommittal nod. All of your energy has been drained from your body. Leaving you weak and helpless.
Doctor Lee’s pen comes to a slow stop, his lips turning down as he eyes you. “Hey,” He calls out slowly, your eyes barely lifting to him. “I’m afraid it’s going to be like this…overwhelming. Scary. Emotionally, physically draining.”
You stare at him with empty eyes.
“But this is a good sign, y/n….” He says and you can tell he isn’t necessarily happy to say it. “Your memories are in there and they’re going to start leaking out…and it won’t always be easy.”
You muster what little energy you have to scoff to yourself, “No kidding.”
“It just…it means that the chances of all your memory returning is a lot greater. They can all return to you.” He says much softer. You don’t respond though, making Doctor Lee sigh out in defeat before he’s placing the clipboard down. “This first time will probably be the hardest. It’s the first time you’re receiving new information.”
Your eyes meet his when he says that. Your brows slowly pull together as you think about it. “Well, kind of.” You admit to him. “I remembered a cat…” the space between your eyebrows creases further as you try to make things make sense in your head. “Actually…I have a question.”
Doctor Lee nods immediately, his attentive eyes on you. “What is it?”
“Is it possible to remember some things but not others?” You ask, but shake your head as soon as you ask it. “I mean…for example, I remember a cat that I shouldn’t remember. I only remember the cat though. I don’t remember anything else about the timeline of this cats life. You know, the things happening around this cat.”
Doctor Lee furrow his own brows, trying his best to make sense of what you’re asking.
You try to explain further, “I remember this cat. But I don’t remember that at the same time as this cat, I was also married.”
It seems it finally clicks, his mouth falling a little open as he nods. “I understand.”
“It’s just…the thing I remembered today…I remember certain details but there’s so much still missing.” You pause, the gloomy pressure once again in your chest but you take a deep breath. “Is it…” You meet Doctors Lee’s gaze again. “Is it possible that my brain blocked out an entire person in my memory? But I…” You can feel the tightness returning. “I….I have memory of this person existing within things but I don’t have actualrecollection of this per—person.”
You shouldn’t feel ashamed the moment you see Doctor Lee’s eyes fill with pity.
“You know,” He clears his throat, blinking away the pity he feels for you. “The brain is truly such a complex thing. Your memories might come to you with no warning and things might not always make sense. Eventually, you might be able to piece some together. And yeah, I’d say it’s entirely possible not to have all the knowing details when you remember an event.”
“Then—”
“—But don’t be discouraged that things will always stay that way. Like you’re going to live your life solving some puzzle.”
Your eyes sting the moment he says that. You’re realizing how true that feels for you…like you’re just a player apart of some game. But you aren’t even sure you have all the puzzle pieces to even play.
“As overwhelming as it is, this is a good sign. Your memories will most likely return. And maybe even soon.”
You realize he’s saying this as if it’s a positive.
But you aren’t so sure that you even want them to return anymore.
“It might take Nurse Choi a little while to get your labs started…she’s doing some rounds right now.” Doctor Lee takes a look at his watch, “But I can grab your friend from the waiting room if you’d like me to? You’d be less bored waiting in here.” He smiles.
Though you cannot return his smile, you agree.
~
You know Subin is in this tiny room with you. You watched when one of the nurses brought her in. But even still, you jump in your chair when she calls out for you. Her worried eyes glued to you but you’ve barely noticed. Too busy sorting through the things you’ve seen in your head.
“Are you…” Subin’s voice is delicate over the harsh and rough thumping of your heartbeat. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
You are okay. Because you weren’t experiencing a heart attack.
But are you okay? No, not at all.
You keep staring at nothing and Subin can do nothing but worry in the chair next to you. Her eyes anxiously darting around while you tap your foot against the floor impatiently.
“y/n…” Subin says your name softly, her concern overflowing. “You—”
“—Exactly.” You give a curt nod, “They must be real.”
Subin frowns when she realizes you aren’t listening to her.
“They have to be real because…” You tear your gaze away from the abyss and bore your eyes into Subin’s. “She said my name, Subin.”
Subin tilts her head, gears working in her head but her confusion only grows. “What?”
“I just…” You drop your eyes back to the floor, focusing on nothing again. “I keep thinking that maybe my brain is making up the things I saw in my head.” You say quietly, your words feeling heavy on your tongue. “It wouldn’t be a first time…” You try to reason, more to yourself. You recall the boat, the lake, the scream, the shadow…what was real and what wasn’t? “I keep trying to think that my brain is just throwing out theories again.”
Subin shifts in the uncomfortable chair, “What…what do you mean?”
You sigh, a hand rubbing at your face tiredly. “I’m thinking of reasons.”
“Reasons?”
You drop your hand to your lap, an uneasy expression falling over your face as you glance at your friend. “A reason not to hate Jungkook.”
Subin’s eyebrows immediately pinch together, “W-Why?”
You close your eyes for a moment, trying your best to take a deep breath. You hate that your heart feels miserable in your body right now. It’s screaming and it’s crying. Your heart’s loud, pathetic sobs are bouncing off the walls of your ribcage and you don’t know what to do to put it to rest.
“I have nothing.” You whisper. A heavy feeling begins clinging to you like a cloak you cannot shrug off. “I have no excuses for him.” Your voice cracks, eyes still closed. “I know why I blame him for Haru and I know why we divorced.”
“What? Why?” Subin is suddenly more alert. You hear the way her chair screeches across the tile as she brings herself closer to you. “Are you sure? What…what is it?”
You finally open your eyes, head tilted back as you stare up at the ceiling now. “Nabi.”
It’s silent for a moment. You wonder if Subin heard you or not so you finally turn your head to face her but she looks even more confused.
“Nabi?” She finally gets the name out in question. She tries to think about it but after a moment she gives up. “Who’s that?”
“The girl from that café you like.” You tell her, “She was our server the first time we went together.”
Subin sits back in her chair, her brain trying to understand what you’re saying. “Okay…a girl from the café is why—”
“—I knew I knew her.” You cut her off, eyes going back to nothing as you focus on Nabi. “She was so familiar and I had no clue why. But she said we didn’t know each other. And I am almost so certain she never heard my name.”
Subin shakes her head, leaning towards you. “And then what?”
“Then I ran into her at the store and I saw so many things.” You get the words out quickly and stop just as fast. You saw a lot of things. Too many things. “I…” You try to speak again but your throat is burning and you heart is crying again.
“You think she had something to do with Haru?” Subin asks you, concern clear in her voice.
“I…” You pause again. Your chest is feeling tight all over again but you can’t risk losing your ability to breathe now. “She also has to do with my failing marriage.” You keep your eyes low.
“Your marr…” Subin’s words get quieter before her hand goes to your shoulder, “Are you saying that Jungkook knows her?”
You scoff, trying your best to remain calm. But your voice betrays you, “Considering he was cheating on me with her then yeah, I-I would say so.”
You’re startled when Subin is standing from her chair, concerned eyes forcing themselves to you, “Woah, woah. You don’t really think…” She shakes her head, rejecting the entire idea. “No, you are not saying Jungkook—”
“—I don’t want to be saying that, Subin.” You snap at her, your eyes growing watery as your voice shakes. “But that’s what I’ve—I’ve seen. M-my brain showed me so much and that’s why I…why I keep thinking maybe they aren’t actual memories. That I don’t actually know her.” You feel you are starting to lose control again, your breaths coming out faster. “But Subin,” Your face twists and your heartache is seen. “She said my name. She knows my name. She knows who I am.”
Subin takes a seat again, unsure of what to say.
“If we know each other…then it means maybe what I saw was…” You swallow hard but not choking on your words is fucking hard. “It was m-maybe real then.”
“But I mean…are you really sure though?” Subin rests a hand over your shoulder. “I’m sorry but…is what you’re seeing…you know, reliable?”
You feel yourself grow weak and small in this chair. Your body slumping over and slightly sliding down as you try to think of a proper response.
“I mean,” Subin’s fingers give you a comforting squeeze, “I’m not saying we shouldn’t trust what you’ve seen…but it’s a tricky situation.”
You know you are dying inside. Truly, even if a flickering light that might have been keeping you alive until this moment has shut off. Because you wish you could agree with her and let that thought alone comfort you. But again, you aren’t ignorant. And you won’t start now.
“No, they’re memories.” You tell her, eyes on the ground. “I know they are. I feel them.”
Subin’s hand drops from your shoulder, a sad and soft ‘oh’ spills quietly from her mouth.
You try to straighten up in the chair, letting a deep sigh roll off your body. “But until I talk to Jungkook…I can’t really confirm it. Even though I know. I need to talk to him.”
“Can I…” Subin scoots her chair closer to you again, the legs pushed against the legs of your chair. “Can I ask what you saw? Why you think that…that Jungkook was having an affair? And what does it…” She softly trails off, her voice clearly unsure.
“And what it has to do with Haru?” You finally face your friend with sad, blood shot eyes. “He was with herwhen Haru was supposed to get p-picked up.” You continue to stare at Subin, her heart breaking when she sees how you try to hold back tears. “Isn’t it crazy that I know that? That I know about Haru? But I don’t fucking…” You stop when your throat burns too much, words refusing to leave your mouth. You fight through it regardless and finish what you are saying with broken words and a broken heart. “B-But I don’t f-fucking know him?”
Subin eyes you with pity and you’re sure you’ve received this all before.
“I remember seeing them together. Multiple o-occasions.” You admit to your friend, voice shaky. “It’s hard to tell though…from my memory if it was in person or pictures, videos, I don’t know. I know I confronted him and he just…” Your expression twists miserably. “He could n-never prove to me that my assumptions weren’t—weren’t right.”
“But that doesn’t me—”
“—M-Motel rooms…so many f-fucking secrets, Subin.” You finally properly choke on your words because of a quiet sob in your throat. “A pregnancy test?”
“A what?” Subin’s face falls, “A preg—no, maybe you—”
“As much as I want to believe Jungkook w-wouldn’t…” You slam your eyes shut and finally, several warm tears manage to fall from your closed lids. “But there is so much evidence against him and he could n-never fucking prove...”
“Okay, okay.” Subin’s sweet voice turns even more soothing, her hand returning to your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, y/n.” She whispers, “Seriously…I wish this wasn’t…”
“No,” You straighten up again, your hands desperately wiping at your face. “I won’t mourn y-yet when I haven’t talked to Jungkook.”
Because somehow…even with your bones screaming the truth at you.
You still want to believe in him.
At least until you are forced not to.
~~~
Subin parks right in front of your house, her worried eyes going between you and Jungkook’s car that is also parked here.
“We left for the grocery store and came back emptyhanded…” Subin nibbles her lips, her concern growing. “What if he’s like ‘why don’t you have my chips?’ or something…”
You slowly turn your head to eye Subin, eyes narrowing at her before you deadpan, “Then I’ll just ask him why he cheated on me.”
Subin’s mouth immediately falls open.
“Or something.” You say before unbuckling your seatbelt. “Anyway, thanks for taking me to the hospital…might end up there again,” You glance out the window towards your home. “Depending how this conversation goes…”
“y/n…” Subin’s hand lands on your shoulder, stopping you from opening the passenger door to get out, “I just…want to say again how sorry I feel…” Her hand slowly drops when she notices your distant gaze and then she quietly clears her throat. “I hope it’s not what you think but regardless…I’m here for you.”
You finally meet her eye and you can see her sincerity but the best you can do for her right now is give her a small nod of appreciation before you’re opening the door.
And even though the car door feels heavier than you recall, you still get it open. But your body almost refuses to move. Once again, your brain is sending signals. Telling your body not to go in there. Because you won’t like it. Your brain, mocking you again. Keeping secrets from you because it’s playing some kind of sick and twisted game.
You’d think your brain was helping you, because of all the signals, but you know that isn’t the case. You know it’s just trying to get a scare out of you because why else would it keep your memories away if not to play with you?
“Hey,” Subin calls out softly, “You can do this…”
And she’s right. You can.
~
Walking through your front door, you have to keep reminding yourself silently over and over to stay strong. Though the urge to break down, falling to the floor while misery consumes you wholly is strong but you don’t. Because you can’t. It would be a bit premature to have the full on meltdown your body is begging for because you still need to face Jungkook.
The moment you close the front door and begin slipping your shoes off, your nose is suddenly invaded with a savory aroma. You glance up, eyes in the direction of the kitchen when you finally realize Jungkook must be cooking. It smells good, you guess. But no matter what is cooking in the kitchen, it’s not good enough to take away any of the pain you are currently feeling.
“y/n?” You hear your name being called. Jungkook’s voice is one you’re used to, one you find comfort in, one you love—so why did you flinch? Why is your body warning you? Signals from your brain again? That fucking dickhead brain of yours. You stand up straight again, eyes still in the direction of the kitchen when you try to take one long, deep breath.
“y/n!” You flinch again. Frozen in your spot, unable to make your feet mood forward. You stare at the wall ahead and anticipate Jungkook turning the corner and seeing you. You anticipate seeing his face and you anticipate the instant dread you will feel upon seeing him.
“y/n!” He sings your name cutely this time.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
You finally let out an incredibly shallow breath because Jungkook finally appears from the kitchen, his face lit up in excitement when he meets your eye.
“Hey!” He walks towards you, his hand sliding across the top of the sofa as he gets closer, his eyes glancing around. “Subin in the bathroom or something?”
You need to breathe.
“—Well, since you’re making me my favorite homemade cookies,” He continues chatting with a grin, excited glint so obvious in his eyes. “Which are a dessert. I figured I could make dinner.” He turns to look towards the kitchen, sheepish expression on his face. “I’ve made this dish a hundred times but…” He turns to meet your eye again, his hand lifting to scratch the back of his neck, “Only after we were married. So it will be new for you. But um,” He looks down, sheepish smile still on his face. “It’s actually Haru’s favorite.”
You haven’t moved a single muscle.
You haven’t said a word.
You have barely had an audible breath.
Still, Jungkook looks happy in his own world when he brings up your son.
Your son that you can’t even remember.
“I figure I could share some more stories tonight…about us, Haru…” Jungkook keep his eyes on his feet, still scratching the back of his neck. Almost looking shy. “Well, of course if you think you c…could…” Jungkook trails off when he finally lifts his eyes towards you but he isn’t met with same you that left for the store a few hours ago. He’s met with a you that he almost recognizes. Like he’s seen this expression before. On the you, that only he really knows.
“y/n?” His brows slightly pinch together, confusion draping over his features. “Are you…” He glances around again, “Where’s Subin? And where’s the things from the store?”
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
You didn’t realize you were capable of being a coward.
You want to move your feet. You want to open your mouth to speak. Hell, you want to blink. But you aren’t capable of anything. Except being a fucking coward.
Because you are afraid. You’re terrified. For more reasons than you can count.
You’re imprisoned, once again.
“Hey,” Jungkook studies your face, his concern evident. “What’s going on?”
Feeling a bit hesitant, Jungkook still walks closer to you. His concern only growing because you still don’t move, you still don’t make a sound, you still stare at him with wide eyes.
You stare at him and you only have one repeated thought that wanders around in your head. How easy would it be? How easy would it be to live ignorantly? The thing you have always refused to do. How easy would it be? How easy would it be to pretend your ‘memories’ are just theories that you brain is throwing out for fun? How easy to only trust Jungkook. And not yourself.
“y/n…” Jungkook’s eyes fill with worry. “Are you…” He lifts a hand towards you and you watch as it rises towards your face but your entire body jolts when you hear a loud slapping sound. Your dry lips finally part and you’re blinking repeatedly. You shoot your eyes to Jungkook’s face, only to see his expression completely twisted.
He stands frozen in front of you, hand still hangs in the air as his eyebrows pull together and his jaw hangs slack.
Your eyes go from his face to his hand when you lower your eyes to stare at your own hand.
You slapped his hand away.
Your brain sent signals to your body and that was the result.
So, no. To answer your question—it wouldn’t be fucking easy.
You both stand here, shocked by your own action.
Jungkook’s confusion only grows deeper, his hand slowly lowering to his side again when he takes a small step back. “Oh.” He says softly, the hurt is in his voice and it makes you wince. Or cringe. You aren’t sure which.
You try to open your mouth so words can force their way out but instead you notice the feeling of pins and needles start to poke at your skin. Your fingers, your toes, your lips. Confused, you bring your fingers to your mouth, fingers barely grazing over your bottom lip where it tingles uncomfortably. You drop your hand, curling your fingers in and out as you try to make sense of what’s happening.
You stare down at yourself, your chest rising and falling quickly.
When did you start breathing again?
And when did you start breathing this rapidly?
You glance around, feeling trapped because you’re sure this room is closing in on you. Everything is beginning to feel close and suffocating, like the walls are inching closer and closer, caging you in so you can suffer. Harsh, heavy breaths are pushing past your lips now. Panicked eyes going everywhere but Jungkook. Your throat…it’s closing in on you. Just like your walls. Your throat is growing smaller and smaller, your hands quickly flying to your neck and chest, as you touch yourself desperately.
“y/n.” Jungkook is in front of you again, his eyes totally focused on you and his worried eyes grow antsier. “Hey, what is happening?” His voice sounds rushed, panicked even. “Talk to me.”
You can’t talk though. You can’t swallow your own spit. You can’t even breathe.
“y/n.” Jungkook reaches for you again, both his hands on your arms but you flinch immediately, your blown out eyes landing on him when you shove him off.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” You scream out, voice shrill and uneven. “D-Don’t fucking touch me, Jungkook.” You take several wobbly steps back, your breaths still rough and rapid.
Jungkook’s hands hang in the air, holding nothing but the ghost of your body he once knew.
His eyes are boring into the empty space and you see how utterly hurt he looks.
But you don’t have it in yourself to feel compassion for his confusion. Because right now, you only see Nabi’s face in your mind, along with Jungkook’s right next to her.
You wish you could control how your mind and body are feeling right now because if it were up to you, you would be calm and confronting Jungkook with ease because you are supposed to trust him. But you can’t control your anxiety, your panic or your dread.
Slowly lowering his arms, Jungkook tries to find your eyes with his and you notice the fear plaguing them. “y/n…” He tries your name, the word falling soft and cautious from his lips. “What’s going on?”
You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, tingly lips and fingers making you feel even more strange as quick breaths force their way out of you. You need to relax. Fucking relax. You need to get it together so you can dismiss the images in your brain and fall into the arms of the man in front of you because you love him and you trust him. That’s right. Get this conversation over with so you can move on. Because surely, your brain is wrong.
“Um,” You pry your eyes open but your vision is a bit blurry from unfallen tears. “Okay…” You take several deep breaths, trying your hardest so you’ll be able to speak.
“Take your time.” Jungkook says in a whisper. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
You will be okay. You hope.
“Jungkook.” Your chest still rises and falls with each deep breath. “I-I have to…” You pause, tongue darting out to lick your dry lips. “I…I ran into Nabi at the store.”
Your words aren’t rushed as you say them, in fact, everything feels slow. Even Jungkook’s eyes widening and the fear inside them only grow fiercer seems to happen slowly. Like, the world around you is in slow motion until suddenly it’s not. Jungkook’s eyes quickly shoot down to the wooden floors as you see his mind working in overdrive.
“I know who she is.” You find the courage to say, “I ran into her before…she s-seemed familiar. But today, I suddenly got mem—”
“—What did you see?” Jungkook quickly looks at you again, panic written all over his face. “You probably didn’t—”
“—Did you cheat on…did you ch…” You stop, the words too painful as they sit on your tongue like a knife slicing it apart. “J-Jungkook were you having an—”
“—No!” Jungkook suddenly walks closer to you, his hands desperate to reach for you but he doesn’t. Perhaps, he’s afraid you’ll slap them away again. “Fuck, y/n, I—”
You see his anxiety clear as day and somehow it only makes you feel worse. Your breaths grow slower and something close to despair throws its arms around you and holds you close. “Jungkook,” You don’t want to ask it. You don’t want the answer. “Were…were you with her when Haru was taken?”
Jungkook’s rolls his lips until they’re set in a firm line across his face, his eyes closing for a brief moment and you notice regret sticking to him.
“Were you?” You repeat.
He opens his eyes again and with a quiet voice, he finally responds. “Yes.”
You suck in a sharp breath, but you try to remain as calm as possible. “Okay.” You give a curt nod, “And…have you gone to motels with her?”
He glances up briefly, jaw clenching, “Yes.”
A stab to your chest, “Okay. B-Before Haru was taken…were…” Your throat burns like acid sticks to the walls, “Were we having problems in our m-marriage?”
Jungkook’s expression twists, scrunching in panic, perhaps. “Yes.” He admits with a shaky voice.
You give a small nod before asking the question that makes or breaks this. “Were you seeing her because of a case?”
Jungkook immediately looks at you, wide, panicked eyes and you see how they fill with tears. His mouth drops open but only a shallow breath comes out. You wait for his answer. Need his answer. He quickly shuts his mouth, head turning to the side as you see him struggle to even look at you now, “No.” He finally says, the word pushed out as if he was in agony. And maybe he is.
He said no.
And just like that, you have your answer. Just like the past, he offers nothing more to ease your mind. No proof that there isn’t an affair happening. You stare at him. Lips parted and eyes blinking slowly.
Your breaths are calm. But you feel weak. Like his simple answer drained every bit of life out of your body. You almost wish you could scream, cry or even through something from the rage that must be inside you.
But it feels like there is nothing inside you.
This betrayal only has you feeling empty.
“You…” Your voice cracks, thick tears bubbling over and falling from your eyes. “You were…”
“y/n.” Jungkook finally looks at you again and he sounds terrified. “Please, please, I am begging you, to please trust—”
“—Trust you? Fine.” You cry out, “Tell me exactly what was going on then. Tell—Tell me everything!” You take a step forward, your voice clearly begging. “Explain the fuck-fucking situation, Jungkook. So I can fucking believe you.”
Jungkook stares at you, confliction in his eyes like how you’ve gotten used to.
“You can’t, right?” You scoff, tears wetting your warm cheeks. “You couldn’t then either. Y-You just can’t fucking tell me the truth, right?”
Jungkook finally breaks. His lips twisting, eyes shutting in frustration and you see his own tears. “y/n please…” He begs too, his hands going to his face, rubbing his tired eyes. “Fuck, please…you need to just….y/n…please just,” He chokes on his words, a quiet sob in his throat. “I can’t d-do this again, please…I can’t do this y/n.” He cries into his hands. “I fucking can’t. I can’t. Fuck fucking everything.”
You watch as he cries for himself. Feeling bad for himself. Pity for himself. Instead of being honest with you, he does this.
“Please trust me. Don’t trust what you’re see—”
“—You’re asking me to trust you but not myself?” You ask in almost disbelief. You might not remember everything but it seems your feelings from that time are still so alive inside you. And that’s what you’re going to trust. “You want me to believe you but not believe prior accident me? That d-doesn’t sit right with me.” You tell him.
“y/n…” He wipes at his eyes and his nose before trying to look at you, eyes afraid and pathetic, “Please don’t do this again…I can’t do this without you again,” He shakes his head, bottom lip quivering. “Please, my love.”
You take a step back, feeling overwhelmed. “D-Don’t call me that.”
It feels strange to be called that by him. Strange yet familiar. And you thought the oddness that accompanied the term of endearment is because you just aren’t used to it yet. But really it’s because he isn’t supposed to be calling you that. Not anymore.
Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, not an ounce of pain felt. “You know,” You cry out in a whisper, “I don’t remember everything. But,” You try to speak through your tears. “But this heartache feels all too familiar. You need to leave…”
And somehow the despair in Jungkook’s eyes and the terror and look of defeat on his face also feel all too familiar.
Because you have both been through this before already.
~~~
It’s been a week since running into Nabi and confronting Jungkook. A week since you’ve cried. A week since you’ve felt anything rumbling inside your body. A week since you’ve left your house. A week since you’ve ate a proper meal. A week since you’ve felt anything beyond an empty despair.
Lying in bed at dawn, you lazily poke at Haru’s robot, the cold plastic on your fingertips. You poke it in the chest, over and over, soft yet determined.
“Do you have a heart in there?” You quietly ask it, somehow disappointed when it doesn’t answer you. “You…” You softly grip the toy, bringing it closer to your chest when you sigh out. “You don’t sleep either, right?”
And in the last week, the only one you’ve really talked to is this robot. Haru’s robot. You believe the comfort you feel from talking and holding this toy is because deep down you feel its familiarity with it being your sons. But also, you find yourself relating to this robot. Both empty, skin cold like plastic and neither of you having the ability to sleep. Only the option to ‘shut down’.
You glance towards the window, the sun rising again like it always does. And you wish it didn’t. You don’t want to see the sun, you don’t want to see any light. How could the world keep on going when for you, personally, it’s ended.
Your phone has been going off all week, your friends and parents expressing their concern for your quiet mood. Your parents don’t necessarily know what’s going on but Misuk and Subin have a better idea, considering Subin was there for the first half. You have asked for space and you’ve manage to let them know every night that you’re still here. Even when you kind of don’t want to be.
Jungkook hasn’t reached out even once.
You don’t want to talk to him but the fact that he’s quiet…it feels even more solidifying that he’s guilty.
And the fact your heart is broken beyond repair and it is so completely familiar to you…tells you he’s been guilty since then.
It hurts. It hurts more than you ever thought possible. Because even with missing memories, you feel how badly this hurts. Even though you don’t fully recall your actual relationship, you feel it. How real it was. How beautiful it was. How tragic it was.
You can feel the pain as if you actually never forgot it.
And that’s why you’re choosing to trust yourself.
You barely react when your phone goes off, eyes lazily sliding over to the device that lays abandoned on the other side of the bed. You debate checking it. But for whatever reason, you reach for it and see it’s only a text from Misuk asking if you’re free today.
You aren’t necessarily ready to face anyone quite yet but still, you tell her yes. You have received a few more memories that you’re piecing together like a jumbled up story and you’d like to talk about them.
~
“Are you…” Misuk eyes you over, pity all over her face as she leans back into the sofa, “You know, eating?”
“Sometimes.” You shrug, ���I made an iced coffee today if that counts.”
“It doesn’t.” Misuk sighs out, “Why don’t I order us something? Subin should be here any second so I don’t want to ask her to pick something up when she’s this close by.”
“If you’re hungry, sure.” You shrug again. You keep your eyes lowered, fingers picking at your cuticles.
It’s only a few minutes later when Subin has joined you and Misuk on the couch. Her antsy hands running up and down her thighs as she waits for you to answer her question.
“So?” She softly urges you to respond.
“Yeah,” You reply quietly, eyes on your lap as you look completely detached from the conversation. “My memories were right, I guess.”
You hear Subin release a long breath before she curses, “Shit…”
You shrug, “I guess my miserable life before the accident continues, huh?” You chuckle bitterly, eyes losing focus on anything.
“At first you were.” Misuk whispers, “But lately you had gotten…I don’t know, maybe—”
“—Well, I’m actually probably more miserable than before. Because I have to rediscover everything and feel each little thing…one,” You start picking at your cuticles again, “By one.”
“y/n…” You can hear the pity in Subin’s voice.
“And this time, instead of feeling upset about my probably dead child, I can just feel guilty for not even remembering him. Mother of the year.” You rip back a piece of skin from the corner of your pinky, blood immediately pooling but you don’t care. You move to the next finger.
“y/n.” Misuk says your name in shock, “You don’t believe that for one second.”
You snap your head up, “Believe what?”
“That Haru is—”
“—I don’t even fucking know him.” You spit out. “And maybe it’s best that I never—”
“—You don’t mean that!” Subin cuts in, a soft disappointment in her voice. “I know this is hard and…” She stops talking when you narrow your eyes at her.
“You know how hard this is? Oh, do you?” Your lips turn up at the corner before you nod your head, “This happened to you before? You know what I’m going through?”
“Hey,” Misuk’s voice is scolding, “You know what Subin means.”
“Do I?” You scoff. “Let’s be honest guys,” You look between the two of them. “Do either of you even know me anymore? Do I even know you anymore? You said it yourself,” You look back down to your hands, “We barely speak anymore.”
“We barely speak because of you.” Misuk points out coldly, “You shut us out. And you’re trying to do it again! Like, wow here we go again.”
Your brow arches, almost looking amused. “Again?” You spit the word out. “Well, sorry Misuk, sorry that things fucking suck and I’m not here smiling for you. Again. I barely recall the first time this all happened and you’re mad I’m fucking reacting. Mad that I’m mad. I’m sad. I’m fucking heartbroken!” You cry out the last line. “I love you but maybe let’s not act like a bitch when neither of you know what the fuck I’m going through, hm?” You raise your brows at her with icy eyes.
Misuk’s brows furrow but you see something flash across her face. It’s not anger. You don’t even think she’s offended. Instead you see understanding. She slowly nods her head, glancing at Subin before she clears her throat. “Okay, I’m sorry.” She says quietly, “You’re right…you’re totally right and I’m sorry. I guess…” She pauses.
“We just miss you, y/n.” Subin continues for Misuk, “We’re afraid to lose you again. That’s all. But you’re right, you shouldn’t have to act like everything is okay when it’s not.”
Misuk nods, eyes searching for yours, “And it’s not.” She says softly, “I really am sorry.”
You continue to stare down at your lap, lips pressed into one another.
“If you’re able…why don’t you tell us what you do remember?” Misuk tries to get you to open up again instead of shutting down. You know this. You want to answer…it’s why you let them come over in the first place.
You nod, eyes still lowered. “Okay.”
Subin reaches over and gives your shoulder a squeeze, “Whatever feels manageable. Don’t push yourself too much.”
Finally lifting your eyes towards your friends, you decide to fill them in. “I’ve been remembering a few things.” You admit. “Not actual memories? I don’t know how to explain it. Not…you know, movie scenes in my head but I remember certain things because it’s like…I just know. Does…does that make sense? No, it probably doesn’t, right?”
“Like you’re remembering facts rather than images?” Misuk asks and you immediately nod your head quickly.
“Yes!” You say with a bit of enthusiasm. “That’s exactly it. So, basically…just things I know about our—Jungkook and I’s—marriage.”
“Oh.” Subin’s eyes are eager to know more.
“Misuk was right. It was rocky.”
“I knew it.” Misuk curses, “You never really outright said it but…I kind of figured. You never were the type to admit something like that since you’re the type to solve things by yourself.”
“I guess I didn’t really solve anything.” You feel your body grow heavier. “I asked Jungkook if things were rough before and he admitted that it was. Since then, it’s like little facts are showing up in my brain out of nowhere…like his admission unlocked some part of my memories or something…”
“Were you two just fighting a lot?” Subin asks.
You try to think about it. It’s not like you remember a specific argument but you know the answer is yes. “Yeah.”
“But you think he was having an affair with…” Misuk glances at Subin, “What was her name again?”
“Nabi.” You say. “But our problems were starting before that, I think. I know we were fighting all the time. I just know. I also know he was keeping things from me. He was barely home anymore and I felt…” You chew on your lips, unsure of what exactly it was since you don’t know everything. But one word keeps popping up in your mind. “Unfulfilled.” You say, the word somehow resonating with you like you’ve said it before.
“Yeah.” Misuk agrees quietly, “You mentioned something like that in the past…way before Haru’s kidnapping.”
“Misuk,” You suddenly find her eyes, “Why did I lead you to believe Jungkook was wronging me somehow?”
“You mentioned someone else.” She tells you, “But you didn’t give me any detail. But you were so…sureabout something and I believed you. Your expression.” Misuk frowns, “I knew something serious must have had occurred because I had never seen you like that.”
You glance back down at your lap, your focus on your hands again. “I see.” Then you lift your eyes again, “I remember that at that time I was suspicious of Jungkook. Of the affair. I know I dug deeper and found things that I wish I never had…” You recall the memories that hit you at the market. “Eventually I confronted him and just like now, he was unable to give me an explanation. And I was right.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Misuk huffs out, eyes going to the ceiling. “That’s terr—”
“—And he was with her. When Haru was taken. I don’t know how I know, but he was supposed to be picking Haru up from daycare. I don’t know why I wasn’t able to but I know that it was something I needed from him…something for him to do to make me feel like he was a part of this family. But he failed.” Your words grow quieter with each syllable. “And I know that for the first time in my life,” You stare at nothing, eyes growing watery. “That I hated someone. With my entire being.”
It's quiet. Neither of your friends having the courage to say anything to your words.
You try to clear your throat and blink back any tears in your eyes before looking at them again, “But still, so much doesn’t make sense and there’s so much still missing.” You feel your heart grow weaker as you chuckle humorlessly, “And Jungkook hasn’t tried to reach out to me even once…which just feels like more proof.”
“I can’t imagine Jungkook even looking at someone who isn’t you…” Subin whispers, “He…well, I guess we don’t ever really know what goes on. I find it hard to hate him but seeing what he’s done to—"
“—I know I truly hated him then.” You cut her off with a shaky voice. “And I think I hate him now, too. But,” You search both of your friends eyes with desperation so depressing, “If I hate him this much it’s because I also,” You choke, “Love him this much too, right?” You ask the question so innocently and delicately as your voice cracks.
You let yourself feel your own question and for the first time since a week ago—you cry. You let tears fall and you let your body break. “Because—Because I do. I love him so much that its hurting me. I…I can’t even b-breathe because I love him. I can’t—can’t sleep because I love him.” You shoulders shake as you sob loudly. Almost like a child. “I can’t remember my own child be—because I love him.” You slam your eyes shut, mouth hung open as you choke on your sobs. “My brain c-can’t show my memories because I love him. He’s—he’s the only thing my b-brain wants to think about.”
At a loss for words, Misuk and Subin feel their hearts breaking in their chests. This is more devastating than the first time. They realize, you were right, this is more miserable.
~~~
It’s been three weeks since Jungkook has seen you. Since he’s seen you, his light. The only thing in this entire world that could possibly make him feel alive. The only thing in the entire universe that could make his heart beat again. You’re the only one keeping him from going insane or ending his own life. He had always held onto the hope that one day this will be behind you guys.
And then he can touch you again, hold you again, openly love you again.
But mostly, for you to love him again.
His apartment is how it always is, TV blaring with the news on. The blueish light illuminates his entire living room and lately it has been his only source of light. You, his true source, no longer rising in his sky.
It’s around four in the afternoon when Jungkook’s phone starts going off, the vibrating making his coffee table buzz. He rubs his eyes with a fist before setting his nearly empty beer bottle down to the table and reaching for the device.
Jimin.
Jungkook rolls his eyes before answering, “I told you to leave me alone.” He slurs into the phone.
“Are you fucking drunk again?” Jimin doesn’t hide his disapproval. “Going to pull this shit again, Jungkook?”
“Fuck off, Jimin.” Jungkook brings the phone away from his face and ends the call.
Not even ten seconds pass before his phone is buzzing again in his hands. He groans loudly as he answers it again, “What the fuck do you—”
“—Just fucking listen, you moron.” Jimin cuts in, “I’m already risking everything by being in contact with you. And now you’re back to your old ways.” He scoffs, “If you fuck this up, I swear I’ll come to your shit apartment and kick your ass myself.”
Jungkook drunkenly chuckles into the phone, “You don’t have to help—”
“—Help you?” Jimin scoffs again, “I’m not doing this for you and you know it.”
“Whatever,” Jungkook grumbles while reaching for his beer again and taking a swig, “What do you want?”
“Lee Jaesung.” Jimin says.
Immediately Jungkook leans forward on his couch, something more serious falling over his face before he asks, “What about him?”
“Well, he was the only thing getting us closer to this shit.”
“Yeah?” Jungkook sets the beer down again, “Does he have new information?”
“He’s dead.” Jimin informs with a bite to his tone, “Guy was found in his apartment. Apparent suicide.”
Jungkook grits his teeth, “Fucking bullshit.”
“I know.” Jimin sighs, “You’ve been MIA and I need you to get your shit together if we’re going to—”
“—Count me out.” Jungkook slurs into the phone, “I’m done.”
Jimin is quiet for a moment before he’s chuckling into the phone, “You’re really back to this, huh? You’re sad, Jungkook. I told you years ago you were going to ruin your marriage. Didn’t I?”
Jungkook grips the edge of the couch cushion, eyes growing darker as he watches the bright TV screen. “Shut up.” He seethes, “Don’t bring up—”
“—You ruined your entire life you fucking drunk.” Jimin spits at him, “Fix your shit then call me.”
Jungkook keeps the phone to his ear despite the fact that Jimin has hung up. It slides down his cheek and eventually falls to the floor as he continues to stare at the bright screen of his TV. He is here again. And it’s not like he can’t not believe that he’s back to this because it never feels like he ever wasn’t like this. This is just who he is now. It’s the him that he knows. And when you woke up knowing the him he used to know…it almost felt like he could be that person again.
Having to tell you about Haru again…heartbreaking.
But having to see you experience that same betrayal and heartache…pure utter torture.
Jungkook drunkenly reaches for the TV remote and shuts it off, the room going completely dark. His closed blinds and heavy drapes block out the sun that isn’t you. He is in darkness because in his life there is no light.
Because you aren’t here anymore.
~
“Yes, well, believe it or not…” You sigh into your phone, small smile on your lips. “I’m actually getting out of the house today.”
“To eat a real meal?” Misuk asks knowingly.
“Kind of?” You laugh. “I’m in the mood for coffee but like, not from my coffee pot.”
Misuk tsks, “Fine. But at least buy a cookie or something too.”
“Yeah, yeah.” You tell her, “I found a cute café not too far away. Not a full menu place with servers like the one Subin likes—not that she even wants to go there anymore—but this place is like a little hole in the wall. Good reviews too.”
“I wish I could ditch work and join you.” She whines, “But I’ll have to stick to break room coffee.”
“Sounds horrible.”
“Oh, it is.” She laughs, “But okay. I hope you enjoy the café.”
“Me too,” At this point you hope you enjoy anything.
But the world is still dark.
And you’re hoping a nice outing with a good caffeinated drink could offer a little shining light in this complete darkness that consumes you. Even if it’s temporary.
“I’ll talk to you later, Misuk.” You say before you’re both hanging up.
You look ahead, eyes on the building in front of you. You didn’t tell Misuk you’re actually already here but too afraid to get out of your car and walk inside. You aren’t sure why you’re afraid. Maybe it’s because it’s your first real outing since memories started coming to you. Maybe you’re afraid the more places and people you see, it will trigger more to unlock.
And you’re afraid of more truths that you wish would stay hidden would reveal themselves.
It’s hard but you finally manage to get out of your car and force your legs to take you inside. But the moment you step inside and you’re greeted with the smell of coffee and baked good, you immediately relax.
It’s not a busy place at all. It’s small maybe the size of your living room and kitchen combined. Just a long counter with cookies, cakes and breads that smell delicious and an artsy menu board hanging on the back wall with a long list of drinks. And along one of the walls and all the windows is small, round tables with chairs.
You take a breath before walking to the counter and a girl with bright eyes greets you with a heartwarming grin. When you tell her you’ve never been, she happily gestures to the menu and begins telling you all her favorite drinks. And she claims you must try their chocolate cookies.
“Hm,” You weigh all your options, feeling tempted by the lavender tea she mentioned. “Okay yeah, I’ll get that.”
“And a cookie too?” She smiles.
You can’t help but chuckle, it’s as if Misuk told this girl to ask you that. “Sure, a cookie too.”
“Okay!”
After you pay, the girl motions towards a wall with a bookshelf, “Feel free to browse. I’ll have you order up soon and I’ll call for you.”
“Thanks.” You smile.
You decide to take her up on it, eyes browsing this bookshelf while your fingers brush against the spines. There’s some books you recognize and a ton that you don’t. You can tell which books are popular and which aren’t—the dust giving it away.
After several minutes of looking over book titles, the girl calls you over since your drink and cookie are ready. You excitedly go to the counter, hands reaching for the items and your nose is being blessed. You can tell this cookie is about to change your world.
“Thanks!” You say before excitedly and quickly turning around to find a table when you literally run into someone. This needs to stop happening to you. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if—
“Ah, Hot! Hot!” An unexpected voice yelps, “Hooooooooly shit, that’s hot!”
“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” You stare at a broad chest, a button up shirt completely soaked as you begin to panic. “Are you—Are you okay?”
The man in front of you starts airing his shirt out, trying his best for the hot liquid to not burn his chest, you’re sure. “Ooooooh,” He whistles out, “That hurts.”
“Oh my god…I’m…I am so so—”
“—No worries,” He starts laughing, still airing the shirt. “It kind of feels like that first moment when you get under a hot shower.”
You stare at his chest, completely panicked…he’s not going to press charges, right? Is that a thing? You could have seriously burned him! “Are you okay? Seriously—” You finally rip your eyes from his shirt to get a look at him.
“Seriously,” He laughs more, “I’m okay.”
You gaze at him, his smile is spread across his face while he looks down at his shirt now.
“Good thing I keep extra shirts at work.” He says before glancing back up and locking eyes with you. “No harm here.”
You feel guilt sink it. “Oh my god, I hope I didn’t ruin your shirt…will it stain?”
“You’re worried about this shirt?” He laughs loudly while his eyes crinkle cutely. “Wow, my mom would be so happy that at least someone cares about this thing. It was a Christmas present…and I’m pretty sure it was actually meant for my brother.”
You can’t help but snort, “Oh.”
“Literally only wearing it because I’m hoping something will happen to it and I can finally have a reason to throw it away.” He smiles, “And finally,” He looks up at the ceiling and pumps the air with his fists, “I can get rid of it!”
You watch him, unsure if he’s serious or just trying to make you feel better. But either way…it does make you feel better.
“Is it still hot?” You find yourself asking, eyes back on his wet chest.
“Nah,” He waves you off with a goofy grin, “Now it’s sort of just sticking to me uncomfortably and it’s cold now.”
“Oh.” You suddenly feel bad again.
“Which is great because the sun is unforgiving today, don’t you think? So hot.” He begins fanning himself, grin still on his face before he glances down to the package in one of your hands. “Is that a chocolate chip cookie? Those are the best here!”
You look down, “Oh…oh yeah. Um, it is.”
“You should probably eat it, maybe you’ll finally smile. They’re that good.” He winks at you, “Or if you drowning in guilt over here, you could always let me have a piece too and we can call this whole,” He motions between you both, “thing even.”
You stare at him for a moment, completely taken aback by his energy. He’s still smiling and it feels infectious, like you want to smile too.
And you do.
Though it is small and timid. You do.
In all this overwhelming darkness that has wrapped its arms around you, suffocating you in an unwanted embrace…all you really need right now in your life is some sort of light getting shed so you can finally see something besides your own despair.
You just need some light.
And little do you know that a bright, bright light is coming into your life.
And that light has a name.
And he goes by Kim Seokjin.
~
Next
#bts#jeon jungkook#jungkook smut#bts smut#jungkook fluff#bts fluff#jungkook angst#bts angst#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#bts fanfic#jungkook fics#Kim namjoon#Kim seokjin#seokjin smut#min yoongi#jung hoseok#park jimin#Kim taehyung#our time chapter 6
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Analysis with Penacony spoilers ahead, read at your own behest
I love Acheron so so much and one of the main reasons is how human she tries to be. She‘s trying so hard to stay human, to be human.
She’s killed people the blood debt is a burden she carries. She only sees the world in black, white, and red, but she gets lost easily and guides strangers home and she thanks you for trusting her even though you don’t have to and she protects a little boy from the mafia and she mourns your friend with you even though she didn’t know her because she knows you’re hurting and she helps you calm down after you watched your friend die horribly and she stays with you and looks after you and tells you to stay level headed and she apologies for being held back from protecting those you love because she isn’t human anymore and then she does one of the most human thing of all and blesses the soul and mourns her with you, guides her home like she did with you. Acheron is gentle like a psychopomp, like Death. She cries blood but it’s still crying.
Onto the allusion, the name Acheron comes from the river Acheron, one of the five rivers of the Underworld in Greek mythology. The Acheron is the River of Woe/Pain/Lost Souls. The River Cocytus (River of Wailing/Lamentation) and River Phlegethon (River of Magma) both flow into the River Acheron and the River Styx (River of Oaths/Border to the Underworld/Makes one invulnerable if they bathe in it) stems from the Acheron. The final river is the River Lethe which causes forgetfulness when bathed in or drunk from and usually used by the souls of the dead to be reborn. These allusions fit Acheron well, as she cries blood which is fitting for one named after the River of Woe. Her difficulty to hold onto memories is also reminiscent of the Lethe, especially now that we know she’s an Emanator. She was technically “reborn” as when she became one.
Building off this, she fulfills the role of a psychopomp. In folklore and mythology psychopomp are entities that guide souls of the dead, such a Thanatos in Greek mythology who is the personification of peaceful death (Who Seele has allusions to but that’s another analysis). Aventurine associates Acheron with the Finality a few times and we see her act like a psychopomp when she does things like “take us home” when we first meet her and she mentions guiding again when she sends Firefly off. She gets lost in the waking world but never seems to in the Dreamscape.
Building even more off this allusion, in Greek mythology the twin brother of Thanatos is Hypnos, the personification of sleep. Sleep and death are often tied together even outside of Greek mythology, like the Epic of Gilgamesh where Gilgamesh is literally told he can’t think about conquering death when he can’t even conquer sleep.
This all leads me to a theory about why Acheron said she had no choice in whether to draw her blade. She wanted to but she had no choice in the matter. We’ve seen her draw her blade twice so far in the story and it was to wake the Trailblazer and to fight Sam. If Acheron is an agent of the Finality maybe her blade can’t be drawn because it can only be used against those dying or dead or not living? We know Firefly was dying and we know she has a weird connection with Sam. The weird “Death” monster also seemed to target Firefly. I think Acheron couldn’t draw her sword against the “Death” because she is also an agent of Death and cannot attack one of her own, but she can use it against Firefly because Firefly is dying and it would be seen as a final severing of the soul from life or as “harvesting” the soul. Of course I could be completely and utterly wrong I’m literally just making an analysis based on allusions and motifs but still I think it’s interesting. Plus Aventurine calls Acheron and Sam enemies and Sam uses fire, an element typically seen as representing life.
Pulling a little bit away, Acheron sees the world in black, white, and red. The red is fleeting according to her and it reappears when a choice is made. If Acheron is a psychopomp this makes sense, she would mostly see the world as the living and the dead and the red could be a tie to the idea of the red string of fate, as we know destiny is a major theme of HSR’s story. When we make choices that change the direction of fate, we interact with the red strings of fate. This could be another reason she’s at odds with the Stellaron Hunters, they adhere strongly to the idea of destiny but to death destiny would have a different meaning. Her sword has an eye and is adorned with red which is where the majority of the color in her design is centered, going back to my theory around her sword it could represent how it cuts strings of fate and the eye matches the one on the “Death” nightmare.
We also know she apparently hijacked the Ever-Flame Mansion party to come here, maybe because she sensed there would be a lot of death here and came to collect the souls?
Finally, I would like to reiterate I do not play HI3 this is just something I’ve noticed, so correct me if I’m wrong:
She seems to be a Raiden Mei Expy and I know nothing of that character but I did notice when she says “Do you remember me?” there’s the answer of no and yes, and she akins us to a dear friend she had. We, the protagonist, fulfill the same role in this game Kiana (I think that’s the HI3 protag) does in HI3 and I’m vaguely aware Raiden Mei and Kiana have some sort of relationship in HI3. This asking if we remember her could be two things to me: Either she’s asking if we remember her as we have faced death before or she’s asking if we the player remember her from HI3, which she may have an awareness of if she is a personification of death and that may link her to knowledge of the Imaginary Tree as trees seem to be associated with death in HSR when you remember Yaoshi is associated with trees as well and the fruit of their tree on the Xianzhou gives immortality, where if Luocha is an Emanator he would have that tree motif too and we know he has tree motifs because he’s an Expy of Otto who did interact with what I think was the Imaginary Tree and that carried over when Luocha was given the element of Imaginary (Of course I had to talk about Luocha who do you think I am)
Anyways there’s so so much more but this post is already really really long and probably incomprehensible so if I think of any more I’ll make like a part II post anyways thanks for reading this far if you did and feel free to add discussion, mwah!
#honkai star rail#Acheron#acheron hsr#Penacony#Penacony spoilers#ACHERON I LOVE YOU#My special interest of folklore and mythology comes in clutch for analysis again#good luck to anyone who tries to read this whole thing it’s a nightmare (pun intended)#I’m sorry HI3 players who follow me/read my stuff y’all gotta suffer through my half assed understanding of the lore all the time#Finis Analyzes
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･｡ﾟ “Lovelorn” .*･｡ﾟ
— leo valdez x daughter of apollo!reader
Summary: You and Leo have been friends for a long time. You fight too hard to let him know what you feel and you receive help... divine
Warnings: swear words, mentions of minor burns (really minor)
A/N: English is not my first language, so sorry if it's bad.
Word Count: 2,094
°
The two of you were friends, so close, that you couldn't help but feel bad about yourself as you sighed as you watched him pass by.
«Just a few more days and we will be at camp», you found yourself counting the hours to always have him by your side. Damn, you were obsessed.
Gradually, you stopped making your pen write, and it was now making a constant noise against the library table, your eyes still following his figure along the shelves of books. Why he was it taking so long?
—You've already gone over that shelf five times.— You mumbled and temporarily stopped tapping with the pencil.
The brunette turned to you and smiled with a raised eyebrow. — Shall I distract you, señorita? — Your heart stopped, and you turned your gaze to the notes, trying to hide the red tint that spread across your face, meanwhile, your friend continued passing the shelves and sporadically glancing at you discreetly. He thought you had been acting very strange for a while now, and constantly wondered if it was because of something he had said or done. If so, Leo blamed his loose tongue and the natural insolence of his being, but he could swear by Styx lagoon that had not done something.
When he finally found what he wanted, he returned to the table with you, you, as expected, had almost finished your homework while he hadn't even started.
—Are you almost done, nerd?
You frowned.
— Nerd? Or are you an idiot?
Leo let out a laugh that if it weren't for the silence of the library you would never have had the pleasure of hearing. He settled down and began to write while carefully studying a mechanics book.
—Isn't your father the best mechanic in the universe?
A smile appeared on Leo's lips without looking away from the book and from the book to the notebook. He looked stupid good, his shoulders, his fingers running across the page and his curls falling down his face due to gravity. Blessed gravity.
— I would like him to teach me what I need to know instead of doing godly things and getting me involved in suicide missions, but I don't think that's going to happen, right?
You leaned back to lean your back on the old wooden chair, this allowed you to have a better view of Leo. However, as soon as you realized how stupid that reason was, you felt the heat on your cheeks making you regret it.
— I guess — You cleared your throat and rubbed your cheek hoping it wasn't apparent but the movement caught Leo's attention.
— You feel bad? — He said quickly.
You gasped and shook your head left and right, praying you didn't look as pathetic as you felt.
Leo left the pen next to his notebook. — Come — he said with his hand suspended in the air. You hesitated to lean towards him, you knew that would make it worse, however, like the desperate Leo he was, he didn't wait to rise slightly from his seat and reach out to you. Not even two seconds had passed when he had already gently placed the back of his hand on your cheek. You wanted to die or be swallowed by the earth, but not exactly in that order, or if the gods wanted, all at once. But, as usual, your wishes were not listened to or at least those were not heard.
When Leo's eyes met yours, you couldn't help but pull back, which gave Leo an ache in the chest.
— Everything is alright? — He said when he was finally sitting again, his expression went from calm to serious. Leo was always joking and teasing you, but yes, if he wanted to talk about something serious, he didn't waver in the attempt. You knew it well, and that made you press the edges of the table with enormous anxieties.
So easy that it would be to lie to him with a simple “yes” but your feelings twisted in your stomach and your heart felt a pain that danced between fear and desperation. You were so sick of feeling that fear and not telling him, but you were also terrified of what he would think. Would you be on the same page? Or was it just Leo's stupid attitude with everyone?
— Hey — Leo passed his hand in front of your eyes, bringing you back to earth, you looked at him, still speechless. — Are you ok? Shall we go to the infirmary, or can you handle it? — His index finger pointed to your golden necklace with a sun engraved on it, you immediately pressed it against you.
How did you go from being joking to being terrified of your emotions? You wished it were easy.
And then, your mouth opened without permission:
— No. I need you.
You two stood silent, even everyone in the library seemed to hold their breath.
Leo raised his eyebrow and leaned forward.
— Excuse me?
— Don't you notice, idiot?
For a moment, it was like hearing yourself in the third person, you couldn't believe those words were coming out of you. The fear seemed to vanish out of nowhere.
Your best friend looked down as he took the pen and tapped it on his notebook. — Notice what?— he muttered, looking back at you.
— That I like you.
Leo opened his eyes, and you felt your stomach twisting again, but definitely one less burden on your back. Now you were wondering, would it be very stupid of you to say it was a joke?
Yeah, he would forgive you.
You Laugh — N-no, I don't…
— And you to me.
Both fell silent and Leo snorted.
— Were you going to say it was a joke? — Leo frowned and squeezed the pen, the small device began to melt in his hand.
Seeing this, you muffled a scream and covered his hand without stopping to think twice. The fact was that you were no less sensitive to heat than the plastic pen, which caused a cry of pain to echo throughout the library, earning you several looks and scoldings.
You held your hand with your good one and hunched over in your pain, holding back any more sobs that might bother others. Leo quickly jumped out of his chair to walk past you and kneel, asking to see your hand. With your thoughts fuzzy, you shook your head repeatedly.
— Let me see
You denied.
— Give me your hand!
You denied again.
— Que la chingada, give me your hand!
— YOUNG PEOPLE, KEEP SILENCE — Miss, are you okay? — The librarian looked at your hand and put her hands on her chest, totally scandalized — What are you waiting for, sir? — The old woman pointed at Leo, causing him to fall onto the carpeted floor — Take your girlfriend to the infirmary immediately!
Leo looked at her dumbfounded, still on the floor.
The librarian looked quickly at you, still pressing your hand against your chest, she looked back at Leo and snorted exaggeratedly.
— NOW!— She shouted, breaking her own rules.
— Yes ma'am!
Leo stood up and analyzed you, still struggling with the pain.
— Al carajo, pues. — And he carried you.
It certainly would have been one of your fantasies, if it weren't for the fact that you felt like your hand was melting. Leo's arms carried you by the back of your thighs, while his right hand kept your head resting on his chest. When had he become so strong?
— I had some Ambrosia in my backpack — You whispered in Leo's ear, he stopped at the door of the infirmary, panting. He gave you a look of disbelief.
— And you tell me right now?
You raised your blistered hand, that broke Leo's heart.
—I'll let them take a look at you anyway. —And he entered, still with you in his arms.
To your surprise, the room was empty, but Leo decided that it would be best to wait.
After a few minutes, Leo scratched the back of his neck and gave you a nervous look from the doorway, waiting for someone to enter. Of course, you had completely forgotten.
You settled on the stretcher, making space for Leo, and patted the space with your good hand. He didn't argue and walked over to sit down, probably just as impatient with the situation that had caused your burns.
—Leo…
— It was a joke?
Both looked forward, contemplating a diagram of the human nervous system seemed more comforting than facing each other face to face.
You sighed and looked at your hand, red and blistered, it looked slightly better, it was your nature as a demigoddess after all, but it still hurt. The words stuck in your throat, but you fought it.
—Would it be bad if I told you I wasn't joking?
Leo turned to you with unfocused eyes, his fingers twitching around one another, probably missing not having gears and parts in his hands to calm his nerves.
— Are you serious? — Leo approached impulsively, making your heart skip a beat.
— Sorry, I didn't mean—
His hands cupped your cheek, and he pressed his lips to yours, then he turned away from him to look into your eyes with a smile. He kept his hand on your chin and caressed it gently, his fingers traveled to your forehead to brush away strands of hair, Leo looked at you tenderly and leaned down to kiss several places on your cheek.
—Is that a “I like you too?” — you asked between giggles while Leo continued attacking your face affectionately.
He pulled back and admired you.
— I told you, but I don't mind repeating it.— I, — he pointed to himself dramatically — am a sucker for you.—
You pouted and leaned towards him. — Aren't you always?
— Hey! — He laughed and poked your rib, causing you to join him.
Suddenly, the figure of a man appeared at the entrance to the nursery, both looked in his direction, and Leo stood up.
—Are you sure any of you feel bad? I notice they are in too good a mood.— Said the medical assistant with what seemed like a play on his words. You couldn't see his full face, as it was hidden behind a mask, but the golden curls looked familiar.
Leo cleared his throat. — I'll go get our things, let him check you out. I'll be back in a few minutes.— And he walked toward the doorway.
You nodded and watched the doctor approach with a tray full of instruments for healing. Strangely, just the one your injury required.
— Your hand — He said, the tone also became familiar to you. Curiosity hovered, and you tried to recognize him with the mask on, when the doctor realized he looked up and you were left speechless.
Those blue eyes.
— Father! — You screamed and he removed his mask.
— Trapped — He said sweetly, still paying attention to your hand.
The words didn't come, but the realization hit you like a bucket of cold water.
— You were — Apollo looked at his daughter with a bright smile. — I would never have said that in my life, you forced me!
The god rolled his chair back.
— No, darling. I just sent you a wave of self-confidence — Apollo took your hand in his and lightened up, making any discomfort and any apparent burn disappear.
Your eyes locked onto your father, and you stuttered, the god raising his shoulders.
— What? I made you waste less time with that son of Hephaestus, who is practically my brother, which makes Leo my nephew, but also my son-in-law.
— Dad! — Apollo smiled and winked at you.
—But we don't have DNA, so it doesn't matter.
— Dad!
— Oh, what? I just helped, you asked me to, so did I make my daughter happy or not?
You couldn't deny such a question.
— Good! Ready! I love you, bye
And he disappeared in a burst of light, leaving you with your mouth open.
You raised your fist in the air, and before you said anything, Leo appeared.
— All good?
He looked for the doctor and asked you silently. You sighed and turned to him.
— What happened with? —You gave him a kiss. Leo let go of his backpack and pulled you close to him.
When you broke away from his lips, you smiled at him and grabbed his backpack from the floor, offering your now healthy hand for Leo to take. That made him squint.
— Come on, we have to find something to burn as an offering. I'll tell you on the way.
— Yes my Lady
And you make your way to the main dining rooms.
----
N/A Bless the gods if you made it this far. Thanks, kisses. If you have any request, go to my profile.
#leo valdez#leo valdez x y/n#leo valdez x reader#pjo hoo toa#leo valdez x you#heroes of olympus#eddie munson
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Lets pretend im well versed in in writing requests <<im not>>
💜COME ON IDIA YOU ARE GOING TO THE OCEAN (Choose wether you want to write it platonic or romantic)
~ setting - reader teams up with the tweels to get him to see the sun and enjoy the day <<hes hiding under the the umbrella with his switch>> (At the beach!)
Its kinda a school trip! surprisingly nice for it being funded by the school too maybe because kalim and Idia are there. The resort is close to the beach and they were able to walk there!!
OR!! I had two ideas and I wanted to let you choose!! so just stick to one!!
💖🧡 The airport is not that bad.. (mr mcsocialanxiety is the comforted, can't blame him airports are scary as hell)
~ setting - all the fun of getting through security, waiting for the plane (and probably eating and grabbing more snacks) and getting on the plane and finally settling in!! (rich boy got first class cause he would have a heart attack sitting by anyone that he didn't know)
definitely think that is his first time being in an airport and on a normal plane and not being personally shuttled around by a styx vehicle
Im so sorry if I gave you a heart attack with all the words!!! Sorry if the last one isnt too vaction-y kinda thought of it while i was writing the first one
{ Vacation Event — Twisted Wonderland }
Included characters: Idia Shroud, Ortho Shroud, Floyd Leech, Jade Leech, Kalim Al Asim.
Setting: The beach
Emoji(s): 💜 (fluff)
Perspective: Reader
: ̗̀➛ gn!reader
Scenario: You're on the beach with your group, trying to convince Idia to hang out in the sun.
A/N: You're totally fine, Edie! You can always request the second scenario once I'm done with this request :) Also, I'm trying out a new format so let me know what you think!
TW: None
"Come on, big brother!"
You looked over to your right and saw Ortho hovering underneath a large umbrella propped up in the sand. Idia was sitting cross-legged with his sweater unzipped, slouching as he played on his switch while Ortho was attempting to convince him to come out from under it.
"Please?" Ortho pleaded desperately. Kalim, who had just come back from splashing around in the waves, ran up to you with a big smile on his face. "Y/N, do you want to come swimming with me?" He asked. "The water's nice and cold!"
You couldn't help but smile back. "In a minute, Kalim. I'm going head over to Ortho and Idia for a second." You said, standing up. "Hm?" Kalim looked over at the flame-haired brothers with a curious look. "Are they not going to swim either?"
"I don't think Idia even wants to come out from under that umbrella, let alone go swimming." You said dryly. "Though I'm curious what would happen if their hair got wet. Since you know, it's fire."
"I'm curious about that as well, actually," Jade spoke up from behind you, causing you and Kalim to both jump and spin around in surprise. Floyd, who was standing behind his brother, had a devious smirk on his face. "Oh, my apologies. I didn't mean to scare you two." Jade said.
"It's fine!" Kalim said cheerfully, then added, "But I wouldn't want to embarrass them both by splashing water on their heads!"
You nodded in agreement. "Yeah... we are kinda lucky that Ortho managed to drag Idia along in the first place. Plus, since Ortho's basically a robot, wouldn't the water damage him since he's almost all mechanical?"
Jade thought for a moment. "I guess you both make valid points. Maybe we should simply help Ortho get Idia off that electronic of his and get some sunlight."
"Awww, boring! I'm going back out there!" Floyd huffed, indicating to the water. He scowled and stomped back to the shallow water, making his way further out. Jade chuckled. "Despite his age, he still acts similar to when he was a little mereel."
"I bet you two were so cute as little eels!" Kalim exclaimed. You were a little dubious about that statement but simply nodded. Jade smiled. "Thank you. Now then, I believe Ortho needs our assistance." You and Kalim nodded.
You led the way over to the rainbow umbrella, where Ortho was still trying to convince Idia. "Go out in the sun? And get sunburned? Nuh-uh, no way. Besides, I have to guard this so it doesn't get stolen." Idia said, holding up the switch. Ortho had a frown on his face and he made a movement similar to stomping his foot in the air, his hands momentarily clenching into fists.
"This was supposed to be a fun trip but all you're doing is sitting here on that instead!" Ortho exclaimed, pouting. Then he saw you approach and swiftly flew over to you, grappling you into a hug. "Y/NNN, Idia doesn't want to hang out with me!"
"That's a low blow, dragging Y/N into this." Idia said. You walked over and snatched the switch from his hands. "He wouldn't have to if you weren't just sitting here on this."
"Hey!" Idia complained, trying to grab it back. You handed the switch to Jade, who was smiling rather sadistically. Idia crossed his arms, looking mad, but he wasn't about to try to get his switch back from Jade.
"Alright, up. We're here on vacation and we're at the beach. You can take ten minutes away from that thing to spend some time with your brother. Can't you see that he really wants to hang out with you?" You indicated to Ortho, who was hovering beside Kalim with a pleading look on his face.
Idia hesitated, but eventually relented with an exasperated sigh. "Fine...." He muttered. Ortho and Kalim cheered and Jade handed the switch back to you. You removed your hoodie from your waist and wrapped the electronic inside of it, then placed it under the umbrella.
"See? Now it won't get stolen. Now c'mon!" You said, grabbing his arm and pulling him out into the sun. Idia was still mumbling angrily, but he gave a small smile when Ortho hovered over to him and said, "Come on, big bro! Let's have a sand castle contest!"
"Ooo, I'll join in too! Y/N, you're on my team!" Kalim said excitedly, looping his arm with yours. Jade chuckled. "Let me go retrieve Floyd. I'll be right back." He said, walking away.
"Let's go find a good spot to hold the contest." Kalim said, dragging you along while the Shroud brothers followed. After a few minutes, you found a decently flat area. "Here should work." You said.
"This is such a normie thing to do..." You heard Idia mutter. "Oh, cheer up, big brother! We're gonna win this contest and be the best sand castle makers ever!" Ortho butt in, doing a spin in the air.
"You're gonna be eating those words, Sea Angel!" Floyd laughed, a devious smirk on his face. He and Jade were back from the sea, both looking pretty confident.
"Oh yeah? We'll see about that! Come on, Ortho, let's show 'em who they're messing with." Idia said, now seeming to have no qualms with the contest. He and Ortho high-fived.
The pairs of brothers both got to work and you and Kalim exchanged a glance. "I didn't think they'd get so competitive about a sand castle competition." You said quietly. Kalim giggled. "Well, let's just focus on having fun! That's what this vacation is all about, right?"
TWST taglist: @twst-om-lover @officialdaydreamer00 @l7k-a @lu-lul @lyle-my-beloved @xen-blank @cookiesandbiscuits @mermaidfanficlibrary @doodler17 @felixsterprankster (+ obviously edie)
#edie💙#vacation event!#multifandom writing event#multifandom event#event request ☆#answering an ask ♡#fanfic writing event#og writing event#writing event#twisted wonderland#twst#disney twst#disney twisted wonderland#twst wonderland#idia shroud#idia twisted wonderland#ortho shroud#ortho twisted wonderland#shroud brothers#jade leech#jade twisted wonderland#floyd leech#floyd twisted wonderland#tweels#kalim al asim#kalim twisted wonderland
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but for the grace of gods
Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians
Pairing: Sally/Poseidon
Rating: G
Word Count: 829
Summary:
At the border between life and death, Poseidon holds Sally in the River Styx.
She isn’t sure whether she’s falling asleep or waking up, but it feels like a dream. Her unconscious mind is a revolving door. It’s impossible to say how long it’s been, only that she thinks her eyes are closed. Once the thought enters her head—my eyes are closed—she starts to wonder if it’s true, starts trying to sense what her eyelids are doing, starts waking up or falling asleep.
Her eyes open. It’s dark (well, it was night… somewhere). She’s soaked (it was raining… wherever that was…). She’s alone (she told someone to run…). Until she’s not.
He doesn’t speak, but she can feel him and has the same amount of trust in that feeling as she has in her eyes gauging the dark, her skin the wet, her heart the solitude. The water flows around her, soft like her name, Sally. Abruptly, she has a sense of being supported from below, as if kept afloat on someone else’s body. The water becomes arms to encircle hers, fingers to slip between hers as invisible hands take hold. Hold fast.
“Percy!”
Is the sound of her own voice real?
“Sally,” Poseidon soothes, “you are beyond him. He is beyond you.”
The first might be true; she gasps, kicking her legs as they come to life, instinctively reacting to the Minotaur who’s no longer crushing her. She isn’t where she was. There’s no river in the clearing by the camp’s border. Sally flails and begins to absorb details of the landscape past the river that simultaneously rushes and keeps her still. Black rock—grim, volcanic. Cliff faces that soar out of site. And the people. The only hopeful thing about them is that none are Percy. They can’t be. Not him; not here.
Because she has a feeling she knows where here is, this place Poseidon says puts her and Percy beyond each other. She doesn’t believe that’s true. Yes, there are things only the gods understand, but her relationship to her son is wholly her domain.
Her tears merge into the flow. She can hear Percy praying to her.
I hope you can hear me.
Sweetheart, I can.
She knows it’s a one-way call, that Percy won’t get any sign that she’s listening. She pictures him at camp. She can’t make the river rise up the shore or send raindrops that make thick music in the woods or heat the water when he washes his hands for dinner (at least 20 seconds, Percy, please). When she was there, she would’ve done anything for him, and she can only trust that he’s remembering that now that she’s here. It’s from here, away from the mortal world, that her son’s father used to respond to her own offerings and prayers. She recalls the day, the restaurant, the counter she was sitting at when he stepped into her world and didn’t speak to Percy. Percy who was struggling, Percy who felt so unwanted that day. She and Poseidon have existed, have loved, in opposite ways.
I’m gonna make him see me, her son is swearing to her. I’m gonna make him see us both.
And she wishes it were simpler, that she could tell him how the father who missed every birthday is also the lover who cradles her in the River Styx. There is so much ahead of Percy that she can’t imagine. Herself, for example; she can’t imagine whether or not she’s there, ahead of him, not beyond him like Poseidon claims.
“I’m worried,” she says.
She says, “I’m tired.”
Rocking in the current, she says, “I won’t stay here, will I?”
“No,” Poseidon confirms. “You’ll pass into Hades’ realm. Right now, you’re suspended at the border between life and death.”
“How…?”
“Fortunately, that border is water. You aren’t his yet.”
Not Hades’, not Percy’s. Between life and death, sleep and consciousness. Since she’s neither trailing after Charon nor waiting in line for Club Underworld, it’s Sally’s understanding that the Minotaur didn’t succeed. She’s just taking death for a test-drive. She’d love to steer this one back to the dealership and say, No thanks, lob the keys back across the salesman’s desk.
“Percy’s going to come,” she says on instinct.
But she’s afraid for him, and the water of the Styx runs cold.
“Who wouldn’t come for you?” Poseidon asks tenderly, because he did, he found her here in the deepest, darkest water.
Despite her fear, his touch is a cool cloth to her forehead, suddenly fevered. Her entire body is warming in defiance of the frigid river. It doesn’t feel forced when her knee bends and her arm reaches out, her body reshaping itself to the last posture it held in life. She is slowly remade in gold. Her jacket tugs towards the riverbed, her hair pulls at her scalp, and Poseidon stays with her. Water goes from slicking her skin to shining her gilded hands. My eyes are open, she thinks, her vision a gleam against the dark.
#my writing#Sally Jackson#Poseidon#Percy Jackson#PJatO#PJatO spoilers#PJO#Sally x Poseidon#Sally Jackson x Poseidon
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false god
Series Warnings: Mythology!AU. Language, alcohol, drinking. Military inaccuracies. Mutual pining, unrequited love. Allusions to and full smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Individual chapter warnings will come as needed. Banner Credit @thedroneranger
Masterlist Previous Part Next Part
Chapter Moodboard courtesy of @thedroneranger
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Chapter 13: Electric Touch
Thursdays at the Hard Deck were normally pretty quiet. A few regulars besides the Dagger Squad, maybe a few girls out with their friends or the occasional group of office coworkers out for a pre-Friday happy hour.
However, this Thursday was very loud. Not because of the crowds, but because of Penny Benjamin, soon to be Mitchell.
The Daggers had taken a seat at the bar, and Penny was talking to them when her phone rang. She stepped to the back to take it. Moments later, everyone heard the unmistakable sound of her yelling.
Glances were shared amongst the group as they all wondered what could be wrong. All eyes shot towards Maverick, who was innocently sitting at the end of the bar.
"I didn't do anything—this time. I swear!" He held his hands up in mock defense as Penny came back out.
"You aren't going to believe it!" She huffed to no one in particular. "My band for tomorrow just canceled on me. Something about another bar offered them more money. What am I going to do? We always get a huge crowd when we have live music!" Penny grabbed the towel off her shoulder and threw it on the bar before taking her head in her hands and sighing.
Everyone was silent for a moment, trying to come up with a way to console Penny. No one was sure what to say. Bradley looked at you and raised an eyebrow. You knew what he was thinking. You knew what everyone was thinking, but no one was going to say anything to throw you under the bus. Well, almost no one.
"You know Hades is in a band. She's the lead singer." Jake pipes up after a few beats.
You shoot him a death glare as Penny comes to stand before you.
"You're in a band?" She leans on her elbows.
"Technically, I'm just filling in until they find a new lead singer." You tell her. "So you're in a band, and you didn't tell me?" Penny scoffs.
"The Styx isn't really the kind of band you normally have here, Pen. You can ask they squad. They unknowingly saw us a few months ago for Fanboy's birthday. We are more punk rock—alternative—that kind of stuff." You tell her, hoping she'll drop it.
"Listen, I'm in a pinch. Can you call the rest of your band mates and see if you can turn the emo down for a night and help me out. I mean, surely you guys know some pop or rock or something." Penny practically begs you.
She wasn't wrong, The Styx knew a wide range of songs.
"Fine." You sighed. "I'll call them." You grabbed your phone and stepped outside. Half an hour later, everyone had agreed, and The Styx would be playing at the Hard Deck on Friday.
................
You were silent as Bradley drove to the Hard Deck early Friday afternoon. You were going to a quick sound check before the Hard Deck opened and then you and Bradley were grabbing a quick dinner before The Styx went on.
In regards to Penny's wishes, you and the rest of the band had chosen and rehearsed some more upbeat pieces, some throwback rock, and a few surprises.
You'd also traded in your usual concert attire for a black sundress with cap sleeves that tied in the front. You could take the girl out of the punk, but you couldn't take the punk out of the girl.
Sound check and dinner went fine, but when Bradley brought you back and opened your door, you refused to get out.
"I can't do this." You said to him as he stood there with the door open.
"What do you mean, Angel?" Bradley asked you.
"I can't—I can't sing in front of these people." You told him, still not moving.
"Angel, darling, I've seen you get up there and sing your heart out dozens of time now. You've never once had any reservations. Why now?" Bradley inquires.
"Because—because I didn't know those people, and they didn't know me. At other bars, I'm just a performer, but the people here know me, they work with me, they've seen me around—I can't—I can't hide." You admit to him. You'd never been one to have stage fright, but the idea of not having the security of playing a bar and then never going there again weighed on your shoulders.
At other gigs, people didn't know your name, and you'd never see them again, but the Hard Deck was different.
This audience would be filled with people who knew you. What if you messed up? Made a fool of yourself? Everyone would know.
"Baby." Bradley spoke softly. "Everything is going to be fine. You're going to be amazing. Plus, if anyone says anything to you, I will personally take care of it myself. Now, you need to get in there and knock 'em dead." Bradley smiles at you before unbuckling your seat belt and helping you out of the car.
You nod and jump out, ready to head in. But before you do, Bradley grabs your hand.
"Woah, woah, woah, woah." Bradley, stops you and tugs you back to him. You curl against his torso. As he looks down at you. "I know you aren't about to get up there and sing without me giving you a good luck kiss. C'mon Kolasi, are you crazy?" Bradley chuckles. You lean up on your tiptoes and press a kiss to his lips.
"Much better." He grins. "Now go be a rockstar." You turn away from him and run to catch up with everyone.
You take your place with the band and exchange greetings and good luck. Lyla let's you know that everything is ready for what you have planned.
After Penny introduces you, you all take the stage. The Daggers are all front row, with Bradley in the center, looking up at you like you hung the moon.
You start out your set with some eighties rock. Bon Jovi always puts everyone in a good mood. During the set, you move through some boy band hits, pop princesses, and a dash of country, but as it comes to a close, you have two songs left, and you're nervous for them.
After wrapping up the last bars of a Halsey song, Derrick puts down his bass guitar and grabs his saxophone from the case.
You turn to the crowd and speak into the microphone. "Well, we've got two songs left in our set, and we thought we'd change it up just a bit." You speak.
Everyone cheers and settles in. You find Bradley, still watching, still captivated by you. You take a deep breath. These last two songs would be the most special of the night. Not because you loved them, but because you were singing them to Bradley. They were for him.
You nodded to Derrick, and he and the rest of the band began to play.
You opened your mouth, and the words flowed from your red lips.
"We were crazy to think. Crazy to think that this could work. Remember how I said I'd die for you?"
Bradley's ears perked up. He recognized this song. He'd heard it faintly over the roar of the shower on more than one occasion. His breath hitched. You continued to sing, and Bradley couldn't ignore how undeniably sexy you looked and sounded right now.
He could feel the heat rising in his face and all of his blood rushing south as you began the chorus of the song.
"We might just get away with it. The altar is my hips. Even if it's a false god."
Your hips were an alter, and Bradley would gladly spend the rest of his life on his knees worshiping you.
His pants were definitely feeling tighter now as your body swayed with the beat. You looked right at him. Your eyes locked into his as you sang.
As you finished the song, Bradley really thought he was going to have to excuse himself to the bathroom, but if he got up, everyone would see how rock hard he was underneath his jeans. So, he stayed seated and took a long sip of his beer, trying to collect himself as there was some movement on the stage.
He looked around the bar and tried to think of anything except for you and what you might be wearing under your dress and what it would look like when he took it off of you tonight.
When he looks back at the stage, he's shocked.
You're standing up at the microphone with a red and black acoustic guitar in your hands. Bradley didn't even know you played. Is it possible that seeing you with it has made him fall even more in love with you?
You clear your throat as you grip the neck of the guitar and squeeze your pick in your hand.
"So we have one more song for you tonight, and I'd like to dedicate it to someone special. Bradley, this one's for you, Love." You say as you begin to strum the first notes of the song.
Bradley's breath catches jn his throat. He isn't sure where to look right now. He can't decide if he should focus on the way your fingers expertly glide over the strings of the guitar or how perfect your crimson pout is while you sing.
"All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life."
Bradley thinks about how he would never break your heart and how you've told him he is the one who made you believe in love—in soulmates.
The more you sing, the more he sees your inhibitions slipping. He sees you relax and enjoy what you're doing, truly for the first time that night.
"And I want you now, wanna need you forever. In the heat of your electric touch."
God, you looked so beautiful up there. You found his eyes and smiled right at him. There was so much love for him on your face. You loved him, and you wanted everyone to know.
You stepped away from the microphone and started playing in earnest, strumming every note without hesitation or fear, jumping to the beat without a care in the world.
The bridge of the song came up. You let go of your guitar and let it hang from your shoulder as you grabbed the microphone with both hands to sing it.
"I was thinking just one time. Maybe the stars align. And maybe I call you mine—"
You locked eyes with him, and it was like you two were the only ones in the room
"Maybe the moment's right—"
You threw your head back as you crescendoed on a note at the climax of the song.
You finished strong with the absolute biggest smile on your face. Everyone inside the bar gave you and The Styx a standing ovation, and when you looked at Bradley, he was beaming at you with pride. You couldn't help it, but a few tears came to your eyes. But it was true, Bradley really did bring you back to life.
He was the light in your darkness.
He gave you a reason to live.
He saved you.
After putting everything away, Bradley found you sitting on the back deck of the Hard Deck, watching the waves roll in.
"You were amazing." He tells you, coming to sit beside you. "Why did you tell me you could play guitar?" He asks you. "It never came up." You joke with him as he pulls your stool closer to him.
There's a comfortable silence between the two of you as you both stare at the ocean, enjoying each other's company.
"Bradley." You breathe out, breaking the quiet. He hums back in response. "Take me home." You say as you stand up between his parted thighs.
"Of course, baby. I can take us home, we can change into some comfy clothes and watch some more of that documentary. Bradley replies, missing the point.
"Bradley—" you sigh as you meet his confused expression. "Take me home, and take me to bed." You clarify for him. Your palm coming to rest on his bicep
His honey colored eyes turn almost black in an instant as he pulls you in for a kiss.
"Fuck—Angel. Are you sure?" He asks you as he pulls back.
"Positive." You confirm. That's all Bradley needed to hear. He quickly stands up and grabs your hand. The two of you weave through the crowd of people, not bothering to stop and say goodbye. Bradley doesn't let go of you or speak a word until he has physically put you in the Bronco and buckled you up himself.
"I love you." He says as he climbs in the car and starts it. He laces your fingers together, and the two of you drive into the night.
.................
You thought you would be nervous on the drive home, but you're not.
Then, you thought that the nerves would hit you as you rode in the elevator to your floor or when Bradley unlocked the door and pulled you in behind him.
But they didn't.
And they didn't come when Bradley pinned you against the inside of the door to kiss you. They didn't come when you kicked off your shoes and wrapped your legs around his torso. They didn't come as he carried you down the hallway while you pushed his tropical print shirt off his shoulders or pulled his undershirt over his head.
The nerves didn't come because you didn't have anything to be nervous about. You loved Bradley and he loved you.
He gently sat you down , your feet landing on the plush rug in your shared bedroom.
Bradley unbuckled his belt and quickly discarded it and his jeans, leaving him in just his tight, black boxers.
You cupped him through the fabric, and he kissed you— hard. He moaned against your mouth as you ran your hand over his covered length. You slipped your tongue between his parted lips and deepened the kiss.
The need for air became too great, and the two of you broke apart. Bradley pressed his forehead against yours as the two of you panted, sharing the same air.
His hands skimmed up your side before finding the knot that held the front of your dress closed. He slowly pulled at the fabric, tugging it lose, before spinning you around and dragging the zipper down the back of your dress. Bradley pressed featherlight kisses along the column of your spin as each new inch of skin was exposed to him.
Once the zipper was open, he rose back to his feet and gathered all of your hair away from the right side of your neck. He pushed it away as you lulled your head to the side to give him better access. His lips dances across the space, leaving a scorching trail in their wake as he pushed the sleeves of your dress off your shoulders.
It pooled in the floor at your feet. You stepped out of it and turned to face him.
You weren't wearing a bra, so Bradley had a beautiful view of your peaked nipples that were just begging for his lips to be wrapped around them or rolled between his callous fingertips.
His eyes trailed futher south to the lacy, onyx colored panties—if you could even consider calling them panties, that you were wearing.
The small scrap of black fabric left little to the imagination. The lace ran across the front of you before merging with silk ribbons that were tied and resting on your hips.
Bradley skimmed his hands across your tattoos before tugging each ribbon loose with one finger. The cloth easily fell away from you and joined your dress and his pants in the floor.
You stood there before him, bare and beautiful. It was a glorious sight. Down right heavenly.
You took a step closer to him and skimmed the waistband of his boxers with your fingers. "Well, Bradley, fair is fair. You've seen mine, now let me see yours." You teased him. Bradley smirked at you before pushing the fabric down his thick thighs and kicking them off. You sucked in a breath. Time felt like it stopped. Both of you were there, naked and unafraid, ready to take the next step in your relationship.
"Are you sure?" Bradley whispered.
"I've never been more sure of anything else in my life." You promised him.
Bradley cupped your face in his hands before placing a tender kiss on your lips, slotting his mouth over yours, trying to pour every last ounce of adoration he had for you into it.
He broke away from you, just briefly, to sweep you up into his arms. He carried you bridal style the short distance to the bed.
Bradley gently placed you in the center of the sheets, making sure your head was propped up on the pillows. Your hair fanned out around you like a halo. How fitting, he thought.
Bradley climbed over you. His large body covering yours. He kissed you once more before dropping his lips to your jaw. He followed the line of it to the place where it met your ear.
You shuttered as he kissed there before trailing them down the column of your throat. Bradley continued his journey further south, pausing to nip and suck the tender swells of the tops of your breasts before his tongue laved the valley between them.
He took your right nippled between his lips, sucking the dusty rose colored bud into the warmth of his mouth before rolling the sensitive bud between his teeth. His left hand cupped your other one, kneading and rolling the flesh, causing you to moan for him. He pulled off of you with an audible pop before turning his attention to the other.
Each flick of his tongue against your pebbled nipple sent another rush of wetness to your core. You were so worked up, your slick running down your thighs as you rubbed them together in search of some friction to provide the tiniest bit of relief.
But Bradley wasn't having any of it.
He grabbed your hips and stilled your movements as he dragged his hot, wet tongue across your stomach and over your navel before placing a kiss right above where you wanted him most.
You parted your thighs for him, silently inviting him to take whatever he wanted from you. He nudged them even further apart before lowering his face to be level with your core.
"You're so wet for me, Angel." Bradley praised you. He was so close you could feel his hot breath fan across your center. You clenched around nothing, as you waited for him to touch you.
"Bradley—please." You whimpered, yearning for him to please you.
He chuckled before leaning forward and placing a delicate kiss on your clit. Your back arched as you nearly jumped off the bed. Bradley's large hands found your hips and pinned your down.
"Easy there, Angel. Just relax. I'll take care of you." Bradley assured you as he stroked the inner flesh of your thigh. You took a deep breath and settled yourself again.
Bradley pressed another kiss to your clit before tracing your slit with his tongue, gathering your wetness before drawing the sensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth. A breathy moan left your lips as he lapped at your core, over and over again, drawing more sounds of pleasure from you.
Your fingers flexed against the sheets, desperately seeking something to ground yourself. With a particular harsh lick of his tongue, you jolted forward and clamped your legs around Bradley's head.
He eased your thigh open, keeping them nice and wide for his broad shoulders. Your hand found purchase in his hair. You tugged on his golden curls, the blunt tips of your fingernails digging into his scalp.
He growled at the sensation before sinking two fingers into you. He curled his left hand, stroking your walls with expert fashion. He found that spongy spot inside your velvet heat with ease, and he zeroed in on it, quickly sending you towards a release.
You cried out his name in a string of melodious whines and moans, that went straight to Bradley's cock as he rutted himself against the mattress.
He knew he needed to collect himself because the beautiful sounds you were making, coupled with your devine taste, was almost enough to make him cum.
Bradley kept a steady rhythm between his fingers and his tongue, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. It was overwhelming. You tried to pull away, but Bradley slipped his free hand under you and grabbed your ass, pulling you as close has he possibly could to him, before draping his arm over your hip bones and pinning you in place.
You threw your head back into the pillows and screamed before tugging your lower lip into your mouth in an attempt to control yourself.
Bradley continued to lap at your core as you ground against his face, but as he did, he noticed something was missing. You were quiet, too quiet
Bradley looked up at you. Your lower lip was rolled between your teeth in an attempt to silence the sounds that are music to his ears.
"Angel—" He breathes out as he crawls up the bed and hovers over you. You meet his eyes as Bradley draws his thumb over your lip and frees it.
"Don't get shy on me now. I want to hear everything. I want you to sing for me again. Can you do that? Can you sing for me, pretty girl?" Bradley asks you.
You nod your head rapidly. You could do that for him. You would do anything Bradley asked of you because you wanted to be good for him.
He was so, so good to you, and you wanted to be his best girl.
So, when his lips met your eager core once more, you let out a symphony of moans, just for Bradley, his own private concert.
"Bradley, Bradley, Bradley!" You chanted his name as you tossed a leg over his shoulder and dug your heel into his back.
"Oh fuck, fuck, o gam, o gam! Olokliróno!" You shouted, slipping back into your native Greek tongue as pleasure washed over you as you came.
Your chest heaved as Bradley eased you through your high.
He climbed up next to you on the bed, grinning.
You smiled at him shyly. "I'm sorry." You laughed. "For what?" He asked you. "For switching to Greek. It's my first language, I couldn't help it." You say.
"Don't apologize. Do you know how incredibly sexy it was to hear you shout 'oh, fuck, I'm cumming,' in your native language?" Bradley smirks at you.
You look at him shocked. "How did you know what I said?" You asked him.
"I started learning the language after you told me you were Greek." Bradley tells you. Your eyes go wide. You told him that over ten months ago, before you were dating. He'd cared about you that long.
Your heart swells as you kiss him.
"If you keep it up, who knows what else you might hear me say." You tease him as you kiss him again, tasting yourself on his lips.
Bradley chuckles and easily slides his body over yours, supporting his weight on his forearms.
You can feel the thick head of his cock at your entrance. He moves one hand down and collects some of your wetness before spreading it over himself.
His eyes meet yours, one final, silent ask for permission, reassurance that this is something you want. You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him as he pushes into you, slowly.
It's a stretch. You knew it would be to take all seven and a half inches of him. But it's a good stretch. It seems like it takes an eternity before Bradley finally bottoms out, and his hips are flush with yours.
You let go of the breath you are holding and wrap your legs around him, holding him still as you adjust to his size.
Bradley is dying to move. He's willing himself to hold back, even though he wants nothing more than to rut into your tight, wet heat. He knows that it's been a while for you. He also knows how important this is for you—for both of you, and he'll be damned if he lets his primal urges fuck this up.
You wriggle your hips, adjusting on the bed. Your walls flutter around him, and Bradley can't control the stutter in his hips as he curses.
"M'sorry." He mumbles, trying to calm himself.
"It's fine, Love, you can move." You tell him. Bradley nods. He pulls back about halfway before seating himself in you again.
A groan escapes his lips as he repeats the action over and over again, pulling out more each time until he's only leaving his thick mushroom tip inside of you.
Your arms wrap around his torso as you desperately claw at his tanned skin. His thrusts are deep, deliberate. You know Bradley is searching for your gspot so he can zero in on it and have you cumming around his cock.
He leans back on his haunches and tilts your hips upwards before rutting into you again. You let out I high-pitched moan and a string of Greek, and he knows he's found it.
"Is that it? Is that the spot right there? It has to be because it had my pretty girl making those heavenly moans for me. C'mon, Baby, get loud for me." Bradley encourages you as he ruts into you harder, deeper, faster.
The head of his cock kisses your cervix before dragging along the textured roof of your walls over and over again. A symphony falls from your lips as Bradley flexes against you.
His hands grip the meat of your hips, hard enough to leave brusies, marking you like a badge of honor. Maybe you should get his fingerprints tattooed on you so you'd always have them.
"Is that way you want? Does my beautiful girl want everyone to know who she belongs to?" Bradley goads you. You didn't realize you were thinking out loud when you'd said that last part, but it was true. You wanted everyone to know that you were Bradley's, and he was yours.
"Yesyesyes!" You babbled out as you nodded your head.
Bradley's eyes darkened. He loved the idea of everyone seeing the evidence of your lovemaking. He wanted everyone to know that he was the one who got to love you, to pleasure you—to worship you. That he was the only one worthy of that honor.
Maybe—just maybe—one day, if he is lucky, he'll get you pregnant, and then their would be no denying who's girl you were. God, the idea of you round and swollen and carrying his child only added to Bradley's pleasure.
"Fuck, Angel! You feel so fucking good. Gripping me so fucking tight. I could stay buried in you for eternity. You gave me a taste, and now I'm never going to get enough." Bradley cried out as you clenched around him.
The two of you moved in a syncopated rhythm, pushing a pulling in perfect harmony. Bradley praised you as you begged him for more.
In the back of you mind, you thought that he would have wanted to fuck you into the mattress until you couldn't walk tomorrow, but he surprised you once again.
Bradley wasn't having sex with you. He was making love to you. He was showing you over and over that he cared for you with the amount of effort he was putting in.
He listened to every gasp, every hitch in your breath, in order to make this a pleasurable experience for you. He cared about what you wanted.
You lifted your hips off the bed to meet his thrusts, urging both of you to the edge. As much as you wanted to stay wrapped up in Bradley, you wanted—nay—needed for him to cum inside you. To claim you as his own. To make you his just as much as he was yours.
Bradley could tell you were close. Each time he pulled back, your pussy gripped him, as if trying to keep him in place.
Sounds of your love making bounced off the walls of your bedroom. Wrapping you and Bradley in them.
Because this wasn't just sex between the two of you, it was something more. An ethereal connection the two of you had.
Bradley had never been so in love in his life. Truly, when he thought about it, Bradley didn't think he had even been in love with anyone until he met you.
You changed the very definition of love for Bradley.
You are the most beautiful, amazing, talented person he has ever known, and he doesn't want to live one day of his life without you.
He continued to rock against you, his thighs starting the burn, and his balls tight and, aching for release, but he wouldn't allow himself to let go until he felt you coming undone around him. He needed to make you feel good. It's the only thing on his mind.
Bradley's leaned forward, bracing on his forearms, invading your space, and sharing your air.
His head dropped to the crook of your neck as he peppered kisses there before using one of his hands to trace tight circles over your clit.
You tighten around him the timing of his thrusts, and the feeling of his fingers on your neglected bundle of nerves has your head spinning, but it's too much.
You wriggle under him, trying to get away from the sensation, but you can't.
"Bradley, it's too much." You tell him, and he understands. He pulls his hand back from your core.
Instead, he grabs your left hand and laces it with his, pinning both of them over your head. You close your eyes and cry out. "Love, I'm so close! Agápi, eímai tóso kontá!" As you thrash your head from side to side.
"I know, me too, Angel. Open your eyes. Look at me. I want you to look at me when you cum." Bradley grunts out, his voice strained with pleasure.
It takes every ounce of willpower you have, but you force your eyes open and stare into his. You squeeze his left hand with your own as your orgasm washed over you.
Euphoria floods your body as you cum for Bradley, chanting his name like a sacred prayer.
Bradley cums with you, babbling your name as he spills into you, your walls clamping around him, milking him for everything he has.
He collapses on top of you, and you welcome his weight as you card your fingers through his hair. You tremble against him as he whispers praises into your skin.
You don't know how much time passed, nor do you remember dozing off. But you're startled awake when you feel a warm damp cloth between your legs.
"B—Bradley?" You stutter out, your voice still raspy with sleep as you sit up.
"Shh, Angel, go back to sleep. I just wanted to clean you up." He tells you. You give him a sleepy smile as he finishes caring for you. Bradley tosses the cloth into the hamper, and you make grabby hands for him as he walks back over to the bed. He takes you in his arms, and you curl up to him as close as you possibly can.
"I love you." You tell him as you trace lazy shapes along his torso. "I love you too, Angel." He tells you as he cards his fingers through your hair. And in that moment, Bradley decides that this is exactly what he wants for the rest of his life.
He also knows that he has to practice his Greek one more time before the morning.
............
The next morning, you wake up alone. He worried at first, but when you hear the sounds of Bradley in the kitchen, you settle.
You take your time getting up and taking a shower. You're deliciously sore from the night before, and you couldn't be happier.
Post shower, you slip on one of Bradley's UVA tees and a pair of leggings. You pull your hair into a messy bun, and make your way into the kitchen.
Hydra and Cerberus are both at Bradley's feet, no doubt waiting for him to "accidentally" drop some bacon for them. You smile at the sight.
You can't recall a time when you have been this happy.
Breakfast is slow and easy. Bradley holds your hand through the entire thing. But when you get up to put the dishes away, he stops you.
You looked at him confused. But he gives you a reassuring smile before speaking.
"Hades—Angel, before I met you, I thought I knew what love was. And I never thought it was in the cards for me. But that all changed when I met you. You showed me what it meant to love and be loved. You showed me what it means to be so in love with someone it hurts.
I have loved you since the first day I met you. Angel, S'agapó, I love you. I love you more and more each day. I the way you laugh, and the way you smile, and they way you care for others.
You are the most amazing person I have ever met. And I don't want a day of my life to go by where you aren't in it, and I may not be able to stand at an alter and do it, but it doesn't mean that I can't ask you.
So, Ángele, tha me pantrefteís? Angel, will you marry me?" Bradley finishes his speech and reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. He opens it to reveal a beautiful diamond ring. You reach forward and gingerly touch it and instantly see that it belonged to his mother.
"Bradley— I—we—" you stutter as tears cloud your eyes.
"We can't— not really. And didn't we say marriage was just a piece of paper?" You shake your head.
"I was so wrong to say that." Bradley tells you.
"My dad died when I was a kid. And my mom never remarried. When I was old enough to understand, I asked her why, and she said that when you married someone, you promised to give someone your heart forever. She told me she had already given her heart to my dad, and she couldn't give it to anyone else again." Bradley tells you.
"I didn't really know what she meant then, but I do now. I want to give you my heart forever—however long, that is." Bradley smiles at you. Your eyes flick between him and the ring in his hand.
You knew that your marriage would never be real in the eyes of the other Gods, but you didn't care. They never cared about you anyway.
And you no longer cared about completing your quest. As long as you had Bradley, you had no desire to be immortal. He gave you purpose. For the first time in your life, he gave you a reason to live.
And maybe it didn't make sense, but it didn't matter. He was right. Marriage was a promise to give someone your heart, and even without a ring, you'd already given Bradley yours.
So, before you can think too hard about it, you look Bradley in the eyes and answer him.
"Yes."
Special shout out to @thedroneranger for the amazing moodboad!
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YOUR IDIA THOUGHTS HERE ARE IMMACULATE OMG I AM CONSIDERING SO HARD 😭💗
Aaaa I'm so glad you like it!! Allow me to expand on it a little more.
(cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, kidnapping/captivity, obsession, medical operation, drugging/aphrodisiac use, dub-con/non-con, omegaverse/abo, conditioning, forced stockholm syndrome, reader is an alpha & no pronouns are written, mention of breeding, implied pregnancy)
The steady beep-beeping of a heart monitor rouses you from what feels like an endless slumber. Crusted eyelids peel open to view the many machines that tower over you, all whirring wires and shifting screens. You watch your heart rate spike and drop in even succession, a neon green line rising and falling to mimic the way your chest heaves when you attempt to sit up and realize, with a terrible, icy dread, that you've been strapped to an examination table. Your arms are bound at your sides, cuffed like a prisoner in a hospital room, and your legs are held apart by a metal spreader bar, the cuffs nearly chewing through your skin with how tightly they're fastened around your ankles. You can hardly move your head, so your eyes flick about like frantic fruit flies, landing on the IV pole at your left, a colorless liquid weighing heavy in the bag, and the accompanying needle taped into your thigh.
A sudden coldness washes over you. Though you're clad in a thin hospital gown and the room you're confined in is filled with unfamiliar sights and smells, there is one thing that manages to soothe the alarms in your brain, if only for a moment.
Idia appears above you, his yellow eyes flashing under the intensity of the lights, and you're beyond relieved to see him. With unfocused eyes and a still-numb tongue, you swallow a mouthful of saliva and force his name out from your tightened throat. It comes out pitiful, a low groan rather than a coherent name, but it pleases him all the same. He smiles down at you, his pearly whites looking a little too sharp for your liking, and his gaze crawls down the length of your shivering body.
There's something off in the way he's dressed, the way he stands primly like the Grim Reaper overlooking death as it’s administered, and the warning signals flash again, brighter than ever. You try to jerk away from him when he reaches out to run his hand over your head, like an owner petting a cat, and he exhales softly.
“You're okay.” It's mumbled, but with your heightened senses, each one sparking to life in a panic, you can hear it perfectly. “The first step is never the easiest.”
The first step? The first step of what?
You must be looking at him with pleading eyes, for he smiles again and a finger trails along your cheek, frigidly skeletal, and you bite back a terrified whimper.
“I'll be honest, (Name). I really don't like hurting you... Even seeing you in this state is...weird. I guess it's because fear doesn't look right on alphas.”
There's that creepy, toothy grin again, stretching ominously across his face, and you can't contain the disgust that darkens your gaze. This isn't Idia. The Idia you know is endearingly awkward, too shy to harm a soul, and a fanatic of the pixelated worlds in video games and manga. The Idia who looms over you now, who is strangely restless with poorly concealed excitement, is not the sweet, soft-spoken boy you befriended all that time ago. In his well-tailored uniform, he looks every bit the detached scientist of anyone's worst nightmares. You think this is the most put-together he’s ever appeared.
A million questions fester in your brain. What's going on? Why are you here? What's he going to do? How did you end up in this situation? He took you, didn't he? You were dragged out of the comfort of your room by STYX robots and something had been injected to still your thrashing body, and then all was gloomy and silent.
“But you won't have to be scared for much longer. I'm going to fix everything.”
Fix everything? A bewildered whine slips out instead of the query.
“I have a responsibility to uphold to my family, you see. They're expecting me to give them an heir in the future, but in order to do that I'll need an omega.”
Then find an omega! you try to say, but the words just won't come. I'm an alpha! You know this!
“There's just one problem.” His fingers drum along your neck, right at the junction between neck and shoulder, where your scent glands are, and his eyes narrow in scrutiny. And then that cold, bloodless hand is traveling down your stomach, inching closer to your most private area, and you flinch in an effort to get away, but the straps hold you down, hardly allowing you to rise a centimeter from the table. A hysterical cry forces its way through trembling lips. “You're not built like an omega.”
Built. Built. As if you're one of his robots. You glare at him, baring your teeth like a cornered animal, and he sighs.
“I've looked at it from all angles, (Name). Really, I have! This was my last resort.” His hand returns to its rightful place at his side and he straightens, his head no longer angled to peer at you. Instead he glances at something else in the room. You try to locate it, but it's out of your range. “It would only hurt you more if I forced you to pretend, which is why I'm going to make everything right.”
Something's passed into his hand and you catch sight of a stone-faced nurse. You beg with teary eyes, but the helpless countenance doesn't sway her or Idia. The oxygen mask is fitted over your face and you thrash under the straps, crying out garbled strings of words and sounds. Idia tells the nurse to sedate you.
“This'll be over before you know it. You won’t feel a thing,” he's saying, twisting a valve so that something's forced into your flaring nostrils. Not crisp oxygen, you realize, but alpha pheromones. It doesn't affect you like it would an omega, but it does provide an intense level of discomfort. A needle pricks your skin, but you don’t register it as you focus on Idia. He brushes his fingers over your forehead, a fleeting gesture, and adds, “Just relax. That's better, isn't it? You'll be okay.”
And you know you'll be safe in your dreams, for that's the only place you can withdraw into to escape this dismal operating room.
- - -
There’s a pressure deep in your stomach when you wake next, hours later perhaps, and the machines around you continue to thrum, alive with energy. You swallow thickly and force your eyes open, groggy with exhaustion and still slow from the sedatives. The oxygen mask continues to funnel pheromones into your nose and your face scrunches. Not in displeasure, for it isn’t a horrible scent. It’s comfortingly robust and it keeps your heart rate level. A layer of perspiration encases you. You can feel the way it slips down your back, between your shoulder blades, and a shudder racks through you. You’re certain it’s the excessive pheromones contributing to your daze, but those thoughts slip away into oblivion when you lift your head from the table to determine what’s been digging its way through your insides.
No, not quite digging. Penetrating. With wide, horrified eyes, you spy the silicone dildo pumping into you in a quick rhythm, the piston never faltering or slowing, and when you notice the artificial knot that just can’t quite make its way into your tight hole you scream a shrill, ear-splitting scream that rattles your very bones. Idia’s at your side almost immediately, soothing you with shushes and whispers. You struggle in vain, sobbing and shrieking, and he frowns down at you. The nurse administers another sedative and, from what you’ve just heard, an aphrodisiac. Your breath comes in panicked huffs, fogging the oxygen mask and taking in great gulps of unwanted pheromones.
“You’re doing well,” he praises, and your stomach twists in terror. “You’re tighter than I thought you’d be, but I guess that’s because you’re not accustomed to this. I even picked one that’s smaller than average.” He nods towards the faux cock and you swallow another rising sob. Your gaze is torn from the explicit display to the bottle he holds up for your viewing pleasure. Lube, you realize.
“We’ll increase the size once you start producing your own lubricant. For now, just relax.”
He rubs soothing circles into your thigh and a new wave of heat washes over you. The aphrodisiac’s begun to muddle your brain, turning your senses and making the alpha pheromones smell far more delightful than they actually are. Even Idia’s touch, as unnerving as it is, has you arching your back.
“Good. Very good. This is for your sake, (Name). I don’t want you to be in pain when we...” He smiles shyly and for a split second he looks normal. Though what normal truly is anymore is beyond you. “Well, that’s an ending we haven’t unlocked just yet.”
This continues for a while. You’re kept under the soothing thumb of a cocktail of medicines, and when one wears off another is distributed. Idia’s been watching you all this time, controlling the speed at which the cock pistons into you, and just when you feel the coils within yourself unraveling the machine stops abruptly and you’re left to wallow in displeasure. This torturous edging repeats for a few more rotations.
Eventually you’re pulled back under into unconsciousness, and the next time you wake your thighs are slick and there’s liquid pooling on the table under your rear. You blink through sleep, drunkenly glancing about. Your situation hasn’t changed, but you have. You’re hotter than usual, skin warming with each passing second, and you’re certain your pupils are blown wide with desire. When you inhale a shuddering breath of pheromones, your body trembles, hungering for more than just the smell of an alpha.
Your eyes rove your surroundings, desperately searching for one. You’re gasping tiny, breathless whimpers when you turn up empty and for a moment you assume you’re alone, doomed to be fucked by a thick, rubber cock while pheromones continue to feed into every omega instinct—instincts that come as naturally as the slick that spills from your hole and coats the dildo in a translucent sheen—for the rest of your days. And just before you can lose yourself in a panicked, downward spiral, a familiar face appears above you. His hand casts a large shadow over you, and you don’t flinch away when he pulls the mask off of you. You’re about to protest, but then a new scent hits you head-on and you squirm on the table.
“I’m here.” His fingers curl around yours and you realize one of your wrists has been freed from its cuff. You squeeze his hand tightly, tugging him closer to you. A wide smile splits his cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere, lovebug.”
Lovebug! Oh, that’s a name you’ve never been called before. It brands itself into your skin, warm and sweet, and you choke on a delighted wail when the thick knot at the base of the dildo finally, finally, slips inside what was once tight, gummy walls. Tears gather in your eyes, running in endless streams as you finally, finally, climax. And Idia holds your hand through the entirety of it all, his thumb tracing patterns into your knuckles. His scent surrounds you, clinging to you like a second skin, and you wrap yourself in the comforts of it.
“We’re almost done,” he mumbles, pulling away from you, and your hand pursues him.
You whine at his departure and then whine again when the machine halts and the knot deflates enough to allow the length of the cock to ease out from your drenched hole. It feels so empty and cold without anything to fill the space, and you think you’re mumbling to him. It’s hard to tell with your mind so fixated on Idia’s deliciously tempting pheromones, the urge to be filled to the brim and properly bred a matter more pressing than breathing.
“I’m still here.” His voice sounds so faraway. You reach for it with your free arm, but it falls limp when the nurse from before injects yet another needle into you. You follow her arm with sluggish movements. “That part’s out of the way. Now I just need you to get used to what’s next.”
You fall into a dark abyss with no clue of the meaning in his words. If it weren’t for the sedative, you’d surely be unable to sleep. The heat that currently seizes you is so strong it grips your very soul, pinning you to the table in an ocean of sweat and slick, where every inhalation brings you closer to Idia and has the omega in you yearning for an alpha.
- - -
You’re not sure how much time has passed—whether it’s been hours or days—and if you’ve even been alive for most of it, but you wake on a plush, king-sized bed, wrapped up in the duvet and in someone’s lanky arms. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, right where your scent glands are, and according to him your scent is the prettiest, most enticing thing he’s ever smelled. Of course he’d know. He chose that scent himself and now it’s yours. Your new scent alongside new and improved glands. You’re not sure how such alterations were possible; perhaps it’s magic or science or something far darker. In the time you spent strapped to an operating table, enduring various-sized dildos and knots, electric shocks from a collar that would tighten when you moved incorrectly or failed to clench and cum at the right moment, and an overwhelming amount of pheromones—enough to reduce you to a needy mess with a never-ending heat—you finally come out of the haze with a clear, content head and heart.
You’re an omega now. Although with how readily you respond to your alpha’s touch and scent, growing impatiently wet, perhaps you’ve always been an omega. Perhaps it’s something that’s laid dormant within you and Idia’s only just awakened it.
Your first heat was long and messy; it overtook you with its sheer ferocity, leaving you unable to be truly pleased by the fake cocks stuffing your hole or the fingers that curled experimentally inside to gauge just how much slick you could produce. It feels like a distant memory or a particularly bad fever dream, and now your heats are far more enjoyable because they’re spent with your alpha.
You wake Idia with smothering kisses, all peppered along his cheek and eyelids, until his mouth twitches and he opens two brilliant eyes to meet your desperate stare. It’s not uncommon for you to wake in this state. He’s trained you well, so much so that you’ll throw yourself into pseudo-heats just to fill a void that can only be filled by him. Perhaps it’s an addiction or a clinical error—though that second one seems improbable; Idia’s meticulous when it comes to pet projects.
His morning voice is always the best lullaby. You tug him against you, nails tracing along his back as if you intend to till it into bloody ribbons. There’s no need for foreplay; you’ve been trained to accept him without any preparations, but those are still nice on occasion. Not right now, though. Not when your every instinct craves him, his dick, his cum. His everything. And, without fail, he gives it to you.
Idia always slips in so easily, and each time you always throw your head back and cry out so sweetly for him. He’s trained your body and your vocabulary, for when he speaks to you you know what you’re meant to say. And you know exactly when to tighten around him, when to cum, when to cry. You are his ideal omega, sculpted by his own hands.
“I love you,” you chant it like a prayer while he mutters sin. “Alpha.”
And your full belly is a testament to that sugared confession.
#meraki thirsts#yandere twst#yandere idia shroud#n/sfw#tw: abo#tw: omegaverse#tw: dubcon#tw: noncon#tw: drugging#tw: aphrodisiac#tw: implied pregnancy#tw: breeding#h2o2-and-baking-soda#it's the styx uniform... it really flips a switch in me
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With what you mentioned about the villians' stories being retold/censored, it does make me wonder about the possibility that they were intentionally done so, and not just by time.
I mean...Crowley is certainly hiding something at NRC to not want outsiders to investigate further, who's to say it's not actual records of what really happened back then? Something like that would definitely damage the reputation of the school
But that's just a theory. A GAME THEORY
[Referencing this post!]
That’s a possibility! Crowley’s been skittering around in the shadows and acting super shady this whole time… Either it’s a huge red herring and the man’s just that incompetent or he’s actively trying to cover something up. (He did call STYX that one time though, so I wonder if he weighed his pros and cons and would rather take the chance with a secret organization than actual law enforcement??)
We don’t know for sure what he is, but I think it’s safe to speculate fae due to his pointed ears and vague lines of dialogue which imply he has been around at NRC for a while (which may suggest a long life span). We’re not totally sure how long he has been headmaster for (the game says at least a century), but he does seem to have an attachment to the institution called NRC (or at least his own reputation), which particularly comes out during rivalries with RSA 🤔 If Crowley’s as old as we suspect him to be, then he does very well have opportunities to alter records. However, I doubt about the scale of it if he’s working alone or truly only has been at NRC for only 100 years; I don’t think one man alone could change the entire history of Twisted Wonderland, and certainly not in the span of like a little over 1 human’s lifetime. Crowley would have to be ancient (as old as Lilia, if not older) for this theory to be viable. After all… If you control the narrative surrounding the characters, then safe to say you control the story (or, in this case, history) itself.
Makes you wonder what Crowley’s objectives truly are, huh? But I have a feeling that if this is the case (and Crowley’s largely behind it), his motivation might go even deeper than just salvaging his street cred. I wonder if the opening speech to the game, all that talk about his “cherished benefactor”, his “flower of evil”, his “fairest of them all” has anything to do with it??
#twst#twisted wonderland#disney twisted wonderland#notes from the writing raven#Dire Crowley#Lilia Vanrouge
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Soaring Ever Higher 1 - Ghoap/Ace Combat 7 crossover
Remember when I said it's gonna be a one shot? Yeah, me neither...
Ghost looks up, into the vast expanse of clear blue sky. To be honest, he never paid too much attention to it. His fight is and has always been on the ground. Now, he can’t help but wonder: how does being up there feel? There is no ground to support you, no cover to help you, no nothing, just you, the mission, and almost endless space. Is it freeing or terrifying? Maybe both? Maybe he will ask MacTavish, if they cross paths again...
This chapter on AO3 | Next chapter
„This is Bravo 0-7. I’m in position and ready,“ Ghost says into the com, crouching in the vegetation, trying his best to ignore a bead of sweat tracing his spine. Of all the places, the jungle is probably his least favourite. Everything around him slithers and crawls, the humid heat making him sweat gallons.
“Copy that, Bravo; ETA on Strider is T-minus seven minutes; be ready to paint the target,” Laswell informs him in her signature matter-of-fact manner.
Ghost takes the laser designator out of the backpack and mounts it on a tripod. The conditions are less than ideal; the sky is uniformly grey and overcast. It’ll be hard, if not impossible, for the laser to penetrate the clouds, and even then, there’s still a dense jungle that could thwart the attack. It’ll take a damn skilled pilot to make this work.
“Bravo 0-7, this is Strider 1 en route; how copy?” a new voice on the coms. Ghost’s eyebrow twitch in surprise as an unmistakable Scottish brogue greets him.
“Solid copy,” Ghost answers out of habit more than anything.
“Some taps-aff weather today, eh? I reckon I’ll be entering the OA in about three minutes.”
Sure enough, a few minutes later, a behemoth of a jet emerges from the clouds like a bloody reaper surfacing from the Styx. Ghost has never seen a plane like that before, all sharp angles and planes of dark grey stealth coating. It looks like something from a sci-fi movie. And right behind it comes the thundering sound, unable to quite catch up to the plane.
“Strider 1 entering OA. I’m getting a solid reading on the laser, moving up to drop the package. You might want to turn around, LT,” the pilot warns as the jet closes in on the target. The drop is flawless, and Ghost doesn’t turn away despite the advice. The jet thunders by, and a few seconds later, the whole enemy base goes up in an eruption of fire, debris and smoke. The explosion shatters the building and shakes the ground. Ghost is grateful for his protective headset because it most probably just saved his hearing.
“Bloody hell!” Ghost shields his eyes as the shock wave reaches him and, with it, the gust of dust and dirt. The worst of the dust settles in, the jet gone, up above the clouds once more, as if it was never here in the first place, a spectre of destruction. “Bravo 0-7, confirming a direct hit.”
“Happy to hear that. Strider, Bravo, you’re RTB. Get out of there before the enemy regroups,” Laswell instructs, just as Ghost is packing the designator and prepares to trek back through the jungle to the RV, where the helo will be waiting to pick him up.
No sooner than he starts to think the mission’s been a breeze, the bullets start flying. The base is destroyed, but apparently, what’s left of the enemy managed to regroup rather quickly. Ghost curses and immediately lifts his rifle as he scurries through the dense vegetation, hoping to lose the tail. There’s no telling how many are onto him, but it doesn’t matter; he’s alone, and that’s some crappy odds he doesn’t want to test.
“This is Bravo 0-7. I’m in a hotspot, multiple tangos on me,” he hurriedly explains his situation just as a bullet chips away at the tree not even a few feet from him. He has no choice but to throw himself on the ground to make himself the smallest target possible. “Fuck!”
“Break the contact and proceed to the RV!” Laswell urges him.
As much as he’d love to heed her words, he’s pinned down. “Negative, Watcher 1, I’m stuck!”
“I can turn around and make a sweep; he’s got the IR tag; I’ll see him and can provide support,” Strider cuts into the conversation.
“You’re RTB, Strider 1; do not stray from the course!” yet another voice, male, older. Perhaps Strider’s CO.
“I’m not leaving him there if I can help!” Strider 1 argues, sounding more irritated than agitated.
“That was a direct order, Strider. Return to base immediately! You are not armed for close air support!”
“I still have the 20mm; that’s more than enough! Re-entering OA in two minutes!”
Ghost doesn’t say anything, but he’s bloody grateful for Strider’s help, insubordination or not. Carefully, he turns and dusts one tango he has in his sights. There’s plenty more as another salvo of bullets flies over his head.
“ETA thirty seconds, Ghost; hang in there, soldier!” Strider says, sounding breathless.
“I’m going to have your ass for this, Trigger!” the man on comms shouts.
Ghost is almost tempted to say something at that point. Luckily, the grey war beast makes a hell of an entrance right then. Ghost’s only warning is a shout of “incoming!” as the fighter swoops in from the left and spreads some 20mm cheer across the jungle—the vegetation yields. The enemies do, too. The jet is gone, leaving an ungodly amount of devastation in its wake. Only to make a second pass from the right moments later. Strider had to pull off some serious high-G turn to be that fast.
It paid off, though. There’s not a single living thing near Ghost.
“I’m in the clear, heading to RV now; thanks for the air support, Strider 1. Much appreciated, mate,” Ghost says as he’s finally on his way from this hellhole.
#
Ghost can’t leave it alone. He wants to thank the man properly, so after a lengthy mission report, during which he hasn’t forgotten to stress that Strider saved his life, he heads to the hangar. Sure enough, the aircraft is there. Up close, it looks even stranger. Like it shouldn’t even be able to fly, let alone be capable of stuff Ghost had witnessed earlier that day. The jet is huge and imposing; short, diamond-shaped wings and vertical stabilizers placed on the outer edges of the craft only enhance the overall alien look. Ghost also notices distinct white decals on its vertical stabilisers: three scratches and a clawed paw. It feels familiar, yet he can’t honestly remember why. Maybe he overheard someone talking about it, or maybe his mind is playing tricks on him.
“Bonnie lass, ain’t she?” someone asks from behind his back. The voice is a little familiar now. Simon turns around to put a face to it. And is surprised. Pleasantly so. The man is a bit shorter and well-built, obviously fit, but that goes without saying. You can’t sustain high-G manoeuvres without some proper muscles and strength. His face is pleasant, too, thin lips curling in a smile. He looks like a father proudly displaying his offspring. Only the “kid”, in this case, is a multimillion-pound war machine. Ghost pauses his inspection on the mohawk. How cliché is that? Yet, it suits the man.
“What is it even?” slowly, he turns back to the plane.
“An old prototype made for the Americans. They went with a different plane in the end, the F-22. The two of these were meant for some sort of museum or whatever. Got a chance to rescue one, so I did,” Strider shrugs, looking at the plane almost lovingly.
Ghost hums in contemplation. The plane looks like a prototype, alright. But whatever does the Strider even mean by rescuing it? How do you rescue a jet? And why? “What’s your name?”
That seems to get the pilot’s attention. For a split second, he looks confused, then bursts into laughter. “Aye, that’s fair, boasting about my plane, and I haven’t even introduced myself.” He walks closer, extending his right arm. Ghost shakes it, noting the firm grip. “John MacTavish, call-sign Trigger.”
“Ghost,” Ghost replies, not bothering with his name and surname as he suspects Trigger already knows. “Thanks for… earlier.” The Lieutenant nods to show his appreciation further. Trigger truly saved his ass back there. What an apt call-sign, too.
“Don’t mention it. You needed a backup, and I was close by,” Trigger waves his hand to dismiss the gratitude, looking almost sheepish as if anyone would do the same. Ghost knows only too well it’s not true.
“You disobeyed a direct order,” Ghost reminds him, having a very clear idea about the reprimand and possible disciplinary actions that awaited John.
“I value life over the orders, anytime, and from what I’ve heard about you, I think you understand,” suddenly, Trigger’s face became unreadable, blue eyes searching Ghost’s own for… something.
The Scot is not wrong, but how exactly does he know? He has no idea. Ghost’s notoriety comes mostly from the mystery behind his mask and his combat skill. Sticking up for his teammates is usually not part of the legend.
At first, Ghost thought MacTavish to be yet another flamboyant hothead. Fighter pilots are an odd bunch, all of them. Yet MacTavish seems different, somehow. As if he wants to fit the stereotype; wants the people to see him for someone he’s clearly not. Why? Ghost has no idea. There seems to be a growing number of ‘whys’ around the man, and Ghost would be lying if he said he’s not intrigued. “I do, which also means that I can appreciate the sentiment all the more.”
“Tell you what, if you really want to thank me, how about you buy me a drink? I’m parched!” Trigger proposes, and the smile is back on his handsome face.
Ghost has a pretty good idea about where this is heading, but there are not many reasons not to pursue it. The bloke is interesting, entertaining, and easy on the eyes. If he’s game, then Ghost is, too. And if he’s misreading the situation? Well, he deserves a drink anyway.
“Give me a few minutes. I’ll finish up here and meet you by the gate,” John says as he takes a rag and cleans an oil stain on the nose of his plane.
Ghost nods and heads out. The night has fallen while he was in the hangar, but the base and especially the tarmac are always well-lit.
Ghost waits by the gate, just like Trigger asked him to. However, it’s already been over thirty minutes, and there’s still no sign of John. Ghost gives it another ten before he comes to an inevitable conclusion that he’s been stood up. Ghost shakes his head in disbelief. In his thirty-odd years, this has to be the first.
The Lieutenant chuckles as he starts to the barracks.
#Soap is Trigger#And flies YF-23#call of duty#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#ghostsoap#soapghost#ghost x soap#ghoap#ghost mw2#soap mw2#ace combat#ace combat 7
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Hi i don't know much abt styx aside from general prog fandom osmosis but kwh has always intrigued me a little bit. Can you explain it in excruciating detail? (genuinely i'm not being sarcastic)
*cracks knuckles*
on february 22, 1983, styx released their eleventh studio album Kilroy Was Here. it was a concept album/rock opera though dennis deyoung likes to call it more of a "rock theatrical experience" in recent interviews. they even made a minifilm they played before the concert!!!! you can find it and the rest of caught in the act on youtube
it was made partially as a response to the rise of the satanic panic in the early-mid 1980s. people started to believe that rock music was evil and hiding satanic messages. the band was targeted by the public when they were accused in particular by the government of arkansas (i think?) of putting backwards messages (called backmasking) in their song Snowblind (the line "i try so hard to make it so" sounded like "satan moves through our voices" to some people. i own a copy of paradise theatre, that track in particular is damaged.).
and then dennis deyoung had a GREAT IDEA!!!!!!!!
imagine a big ol lightbulb flashing over him while the rest of the members of styx watch in mortal dread
so basically the album follows a sort of loose and vague backstory that's somehow still solid enough for people to follow some sort of a plot in their head (which is slightly backed up by Caught In The Act, the designated KWH "concert," which i'll get to in a second). the basic synopsis (paraphrased but still in excruciating detail) is as such:
set in a futuristic chicago(?) rock and roll has been made illegal under code 672 (prohibits the playing and purveying of rock music). Dr. Everett Righteous (played by JY), who was responsible for this, is the leader of the majority for musical morality or the MMM for short. the MMM is one of the strongest organizations in this universe since you know. they literally convinced congress to criminalize an entire genre of music for the entire country. righteous also hosts a television show where he encourages the public to burn guitars and records in a huge bonfire during “nightly rallies”. he also projects himself onto a big triangle over the skyline which i think is fucking hilarious i haven’t been able to get over it
Robert Orin Charles Kilroy (played by Dennis DeYoung, of course he's the title character), was a prolific rock musician at the time of the ban. he was thrown in prison for breaking the law and after being framed of murder. they accused him of bashing an MMM crusader's head in (which he obviously didn't do) after they raided one of his concerts at the paradise theatre. he then goes to rot in prison and is subjected to attempts of brainwashing by the dr. righteous show with the other “rock n’ roll misfits” they’ve arrested. it doesn’t work lol. i don't understand how it would work BECAUSE IT'S NEVER EXPLAINED
the prison kilroy is rotting in is maintained/monitored by japanese import, mass produced robots dubbed the "robotos," hence the title track. ignore how racist they look, it was 1983, this is not my fault
i mildly dislike them but it sucks how they’re essential to the plot ANYWAYS
here comes Jonathan Chance, (played by Tommy Shaw, albeit reluctantly) who is a rebel that is part of a underground resistance (that's only really mentioned once). with his friend, he breaks into some unknown area that is most likely a recording studio and hijacks the live television recording of the dr. righteous show. he proceeds to namedrop himself and then run off
credit to @mccoys-killer-queen for the gifs!!
kilroy sees this happen, which inspires him to attempt to escape the prison. kilroy incapacitates a roboto that visits his prison cell and disguises himself as it so he can escape without being noticed (i do not like the way he does this)
after kilroy escapes, he goes throughout the city and leaves messages for jonathan, leading him back to the paradise theater which is now the Dr. Righteous Museum for Rock Pathology
it's got a bunch of shitty animatronics that include people like jimi hendrix and elvis presley, but at the very back is an animatronic of kilroy repeatedly bashing in someone's head
this is my favorite part of the minifilm which i've basically explained sorry. you see like what you think is another roboto emerge from the shadows, and then it takes off its mask AND IT'S THE ACTUAL KILROY!!!
(this is taken from the live show, the transition is so goddamn dope)
and then dennis deyoung prances around and has his little pick me theater main character moment and sings mr. roboto and dances and stuff it looks so stupid. the live version of mr. roboto is way funnier than the official music video i don't know. i posted it about here before but i love this part in particular
so that's how kilroy and jonathan meet and that's basically the plot of one of styx's most popular songs!! sorry i gave kind of a play by play of the minifilm
now here's the fun part !!!! (unfinished lore/controversy)
unfortunately the reception of this album was less than satisfactory for most people back in '83, since KWH was way far away from the brand that styx had made for themselves in the 70s. they made art rock and prog, but this was just straight up synthpop. some people liked it though. i read somewhere in an article that it "alienated their male audience" and honestly if you're alienated by a little bit of gay pick me theater bs from your favorite band, that's a you problem
caught in the act was the designated "kilroy concert" that styx did sometime in 1983. the concert, however, doesn't give any. depth. to any additional explanations of multiple plot holes present in the story. as much as i love and cherish dennis deyoung he didn't do a very good job at writing this.
caught in the act felt more like a compromise than a show, seeing as the banter after the performance of mr. roboto was very bare? kilroy explains to jonathan that he was framed for murder, and then he goes in depth on the night it happened. "the crowd was totally psyched," he says, and then it goes to JY performing a guitar solo, which leads into the rest of the concert. the entire concert was portrayed as a flashback and gives no real backstory to any of the established characters. and then at the tail end of the concert they get "raided" by the MMM and you watch as an MMM officer murders one of righteous' own followers with kilroy's guitar. they cut back to kilroy and jonathan, they sing haven't we been before, and then kilroy hands jonathan this sick ass glowing guitar, then they perform the world's worst finale. the dance party ending of caught in the act. it sucks. it's horrible. i hate it. also there is no dennis deyoung in the kilroy was here universe lmfao
i'm still grateful for the concert though don't get me wrong!!! amazing concert
if the rest of styx didn't want to rip dennis deyoung apart for making them do this (i recently learned from a manager that DDY made them turn down an opportunity to perform at one of the largest concerts of the 80s, because he was like "but muh kilroy"), i believe songs off the album like High Time and Double Life would have been performed at Caught in the Act. both extremely lore-heavy songs, especially double life. i really wish they played double life. but c'est la vie, i guess.
literally everyone in the band hated dennis' guts so much while they were making this (justified, he was a stubborn asshole during production) but god was it worth it. for me at least. i imagine one of the conversations about production went like
JY: dennis have you considered that maybe this is a bad idea
Dennis: i'm gonna make you the villain of the story if you don't shut the FUCK UP
i still think that JY had a little bit of fun though. he was hamming it tf up as dr. righteous i'm sorry you need to watch the mv's which you can find on youtube as well
but unfortunately tommy shaw wasn't having a good time at all, he literally quit on stage and stormed off and styx split for a while bc of this album i mean LOOK AT HIM HE'S SO PISSED OFF
overall this album is both cheese AND corn, worst album i've ever listened to, and yet it's given me a purpose in life. i've written 7,000+ words in one document about this album just to try and fill in the blanks the lore has, it's got so many. it's a running joke on this blog, i really hope you check out the album, because i think it's wonderful and it's endearing regardless of the controversy, it's too late for me. save yourself
#styx#styxposting#kilroy was here#styx band#dennis deyoung#tommy shaw#jonathan chance#dr. righteous#styxblr#robert orin charles kilroy#this took me two days to prepare and write#sorry to everyone else that already knows the story front and back because of me (consider this a refresh)#or to anyone that already knew the story even before me#god i wish i was there to experience it.#i would've died and gone to heaven#i watch the live show and my heart is warmed because i know for a fact that someone in that audience was as insane about this story as i am#and was probably losing their shit in the audience#perhaps it was a birthday gift. or something they had completely given up hope on seeing#also righteous canonically owns a fried chicken brand named Dr. Righteous' Fried Chicken as a play on KFC#i had to stop watching the minifilm for fifteen minutes and go do something else because i was so disgusted by the fried chicken plot point#and DDY milks the fuck out of it in CITA when he goes 'and i was eating that G R E A S Y fried chicken'#the pain and agony#it's so unnecessary#caught in the act#i might be a little ill in the mentally
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