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according2thelore · 10 months

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You are married to Sam Winchester. You don’t have a name.

You met him in a bar. Or a park. Or a diner where you worked. Or a library you were studying in. Or on the bus route back to your apartment. Or in the frozen aisle of a grocery store. The location doesn’t matter, but you know that you know him. That’s all you need to know. He smiles at you, and you smile back. He’s nice to look at, in the way that shards of stained glass are nice to look at. In the way that car crashes are captivating, in the way that a tree can be both dead and alive at once, in the way that homes disappear one room at a time. It doesn’t matter. You open your mouth to introduce yourself but the waitress-librarian-cop-bus driver-clerk talks over you. He never asks again. I’m Sam, he says. It’s a nice name. He’s got a nice face.

Dating him is easy. He never asks any questions about you. You ask questions about him, but he doesn’t like it, so you learn to stop. I had a brother, he offers once, in the way that someone says, I tried to kill myself. You nod. His name is Dean. It’s odd, maybe, that he refers to Dean in both past and the present tense. He doesn’t like it when you question things like that, though, so you keep quiet. Sam says strange things sometimes, when you’re sitting entwined on your couch watching reality TV. I killed monsters. They killed me, sometimes, too. He says. Your eyes go wide. He reassures you, It doesn’t matter. You melt back against him.

Oh, okay. As long as it doesn’t matter, that’s alright with you.

You get married. You get married in a courthouse, because Sam doesn’t like churches. I’ve made too many promises in churches, he said. I can’t break any more.

Okay, you say. You never liked churches much anyway. Or maybe you do. Maybe you believe in God. Sam doesn’t. He says he killed God. You believe him, because he’s got a knife carved from bone hidden under your boxspring. He keeps herbs and finger bones in jars and a golden bowl in your china cabinet, and won’t let you touch them. When the clerk hands you your wedding certificate, you smile as Sam kisses you. You’re excited when you take the paper from him, hoping to see your name. But in the space where it’s supposed to be is blank. Sam rubs a finger over Marriage Certificate, then over his name scribbled in pen. It’s perfect, he says, looking up at you with distant stars in his eyes. Oh. Okay, it’s perfect. That’s good.

He cries out for Dean in his sleep. Night terrors so severe that they upend you from his bed shake him awake once a week. He screams in a language you’ve never heard before. After those nights, Sam doesn’t look you in the eye. He doesn’t talk after nightmares, and you don’t know how to shake him back to consciousness.

You catch him in the reflex of doing things. Odd things set him off. A rerun of that medical drama you binged in undergrad shuts Sam down, and he doesn’t come home until after dinner. An Asia song plays in a grocery store and Sam drops the milk in the middle of the aisle. You find him having a panic attack behind your car in the parking lot.

He has an old car in the apartment’s parking garage that you’re not allowed to touch. It’s vintage—a beautiful thing, because you know a lot about cars or maybe you don’t—and it’s got an arsenal in the trunk. He buries salt lines in your yard. If you sneak up behind him, he’s got a knife to your throat before you can explain yourself.

Sam laughs at something on his phone, and goes to show someone, but it’s always only you there. It seems to disappoint him. When he’s upset, he gets more upset when you say the wrong things. It’s a dance that you don’t know the steps to, and Sam’s too tired to teach you.

It’s okay, you’ll learn yourself. You buy him almonds at the grocery store. You always keep the thermostat above seventy two degrees Fahrenheit. You always grab him a second of whatever you get: a beer, a sandwich, a blanket. You sleep on the side of the bed closest to the door. It’s not perfect. When you do the laundry, he gets frustrated with you because you fold things “too big.” He always orders two sides of fries. He buys ground beef that he doesn’t eat.

He has a dog. The dog doesn’t like you, but it doesn’t not like you either. Sam hates you for it. Dean loves this dog. He loves Dean, too. Sam told you. You wilt. Another test failed. Dean’s really good at this game, but you’re not. Dean’s good at most games, at least the games that Sam likes to play. You try to love the dog more after that, giving him treats and actually cooking the ground beef Sam throws away every week to feed him. When Sam sprints into the kitchen as the smell wafts through the house, he collapses when he sees it’s just you. He doesn’t talk the rest of the weekend.

Sam gets a job at the factory. Or the construction site. Or the law firm. Or the local community college. You work as a nurse. Or a doctor. Or a cop. Or a secretary. Or a chef. It doesn’t matter. The details are blurry. Sam invites you to a Christmas party with his coworkers. This is my wife, Sam says, proud. His coworkers smile, but they never ask your name. You don’t have one. That’s alright with you, as long as it’s alright with Sam. You’d hate to embarrass him at a work party.

You have sex. You get pregnant. You have a kid. Those things happen in some kind of order, but it gets mixed up sometimes.

You’ve always wanted a girl probably, but when you look into the face of your son, you realize that you’ve never wanted anything as much as you want this child. Or maybe you never wanted kids. But you have one now, and he’s your priority. You’re a good mom.

Sam didn’t have a good mom, didn’t have a mom until he was in his thirties, but she didn’t last long. So it’s important to him that you’re a good mom for his son. You’re going to take the job seriously.

We should name him Dean, you suggest, and Sam sobs into your hair. Your chest warms pleasantly. You like it when Sam holds you like this. When Sam shows you the birth certificate, your eyes catch on the name. Dean Winchester Junior? You ask. That’s for naming a child after a parent. Sam looks at the baby in your arms—wait, now it’s in his arms—and says, Dean is as much of a part of this as either of us.

The space for Mother of Child is blank. You’ve never seen a picture of Dean Winchester. Or Dean Winchester, Sr. now.

You fall asleep in an apartment and wake up in a house with a porch and a white-picket fence. That’s nice. It’ll give the dog space to run around. In your child’s sixth month alive, Sam sleeps in the child’s crib with a knife. Just to make sure, he says. Nothing’s going to happen to Dean. It takes him a long time to say the name without flinching when he’s talking about his son. When your son turns a year old, you finally remember to ask what Sam’s tattoo means. He looks surprised that you’ve mentioned it. It’s a tattoo that I got with Dean. He says. Of course it is. You’re angry, but it’s gone again, because these are things you’re supposed to accept about Sam. It keeps demons from possessing me. Demons? You ask, startled. Sam’s mouth thins into a line. Yes. You need to get one, he says. And the second that Dean turns sixteen, I’m signing that form and we’re taking him in to get one, too. You’re alarmed, until Sam tells you that it’s okay. That’s a relief. You get the tattoo, right over your left breast, and Sam fucks you so hard that you can’t walk the next day. You introduce your family to your boss one day, This is Sam and Dean!, and Sam shoves the baby into your arms and has to leave the room. We’re calling him Dean Junior from now on, Sam says later, after the hunted look in his eyes melts into exhaustion. Alright.

You clean the house. You wear sundresses. You like your job, but not enough to let it get in the way of being a mother. Sam teaches Dean Junior how to throw a ball. He helps him with math homework. You make meatloaf and take Dean Junior to soccer games.

You realize late—too late, maybe—that all the pictures of you on the mantle are a little blurry. You can’t remember the last time you saw your own reflection. You pull out your driver’s license. It’s blank, just your address. No picture of you. Your hair colour is just “dark.” No height. “Thin” is your weight. You speed on the way home from work so you can get pulled over. You hand over your empty license and your blank registration, and the cop barely gives either a glance. You’re free to go. He says. Everything’s in order.

You walk in the front door, and Sam kisses you on the cheek. He’s had to get glasses recently, and they make his face look even more handsome. Welcome home, honey, he says, smiling. Do you remember when you told me you killed God? You ask, because that sounds vaguely familiar. Sam blinks at you in confusion for a couple of seconds. The house shudders around you for a second.

Yes, Sam says, voice distant. Yes, I think I did. There’s a new God now though. I helped raise him. He’s a good kid. The house stills. There is no room for nasty things here. Only good. You nod, relieved. I’m glad he’s a nice boy, you say, picking up your son. If anyone could raise God, you could.

Sam looks haunted by this. He retreats.

Sam doesn’t tell you everything. Sam won’t ever tell you everything.

You look into the face of your son as he swings his legs lightly against your hip. He’s got green eyes, and he’s sucking on his thumb, a nasty habit you’ve tried to break. Sam shows Dean Junior pictures of his brother. He tells him stories, when Dean Junior’s asleep, about the open road, about cicadas and fireworks and greasy diner food and sunscreen and used textbooks and ash.

You sit on the opposite side of the door and cry because this man is a catastrophe and he hunted monsters and he loves everything more than you thought anyone could love anything. He’s half a soul, crammed into one body, edges ragged. He’s over two hundred years old. And he likes cherry slushies and he’s killed angels and he dreams of his brothers hands and he’s seen the face of God.

I love your uncle, you had heard his voice, a low murmur in Junior’s nursery one night. Sometimes I don’t know how to exist and be so unknown. Even when we didn’t speak, he knew me. No one has known me in years. I don’t think anyone will ever know me again.

You kiss him and try to make it like his brother would do it. He’s grateful. Sam’s grateful for a lot of things. He calls your lives together an “apple pie life.” But you don’t like apple pie. Or maybe you do. It doesn’t matter.

It’s okay. You’re just Sam Winchester’s wife. You’ve got a son named Dean.

You’ve spent your whole life sharing them both with a dead man.

crossposted on ao3 here

#supernatural #sam winchester #sam and dean #spn #ao3 #sam winchester's blurry faceless nameless thin wife #an icon truly #she's for the people #gencest #weirdcest #implied sam/dean #samdean #wincest #charlotte will be drawing this!!!! because she's the best!!!! and talented!!! mwah mwah mwah!!!#and i'm not just saying that bc she's reading this over my shoulder #lizzy writes

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flockofcrowsinatornadoofcreation · 1 year

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Birdcage, Chapter 5

Grave digger

Cole stares out the broken window, gazing up at the sky. When Zane comes to check on him, he tells him he's watching the clouds.

Zane doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t press further and instead leaves the room.

Cole is thinking about Morro.

Why is he back? How is he back?

He knows it's possible. He came back, after all. But it was due to a very specific event, one that only happens once every....

"Hey, Zane?" Cole yells. He jumps when Zane immediately steps into view in the doorframe.

"Where you there the whole time?"

Zane chuckles, looking sheepish.

"If I told you 'no', you wouldn't believe me. What is it, Cole?"

"The Yin-Yang eclipse. How often does it happen?"

The nindroid hums, code flashing over his eyes.

"Such an eclipse occurs approximately three thousand, seven hundred, twenty one years. Since the last eclipse was approximately three point six seven years ago, the next eclipse should occur in three thousand, seven hundred-"

"Zane."

"Yes?"

"I can do the math."

Zane raises an eyebrow.

"Are you sure about that?"

Cole frowns. Zane tries his best to look serious, but ends up having to stifle his laughter.

"I'm kidding. I have no doubt that you can do simple subtraction."

"Oh, that's it, huh? Just simple subtraction?" Cole growls, but he's not angry, and he smiles to let Zane know that.

Looking back to the window, his smile dies a quick death. He can't help but look down to make sure he didn't completely hallucinate Wu and Morro returning. He can't even see the ground from up here, so it doesn't really work.

He sees them falling-

He falls into black-

"Cole?"

He snaps his gaze back up to the clouds, to the sun. First Master, he could look at that sun forever.

"Yes, Zane?"

"I asked you if you are alright."

I have no clue.

"I'm fine," he says, faking a smile.

"That's what you told me last time," Zane says sternly. "I didn't believe you then, and I don't believe you now. What is wrong?"

Cole doesn't know where to begin.

The conversation with Morro on the Bounty?

Hearing Wu scream Morro's name, then opening the door to find Wu leap out the broken window?

Having to watch as Wu and Morro plummeted below the clouds?

The way he was frozen in a flashback when his team came, having heard his cry of horror?

Falling past the clouds and into the dark-

"Cole? Cole!"

He snaps back to the present, breathing hard. Zane grabs his arm to keep him from tipping over.

"Perhaps you should sit down."

"No, I just... I'm fine." Cole frowns. "It's just...."

Zane looks at him steadily, then glances at the window. Understanding dawns on his face.

"Morro?"

Cole nods.

"You saw them fall."

"Yes."

"But that's not the only thing."

"... no. It's the talk I had with Morro. He..." Cole sighs. Zane narrows his eyes.

"Did he hurt you?"

Cole starts at Zane's sharp tone.

"What?"

"Did he hurt you, Cole?"

Oh.

"No! He was actually scared that I would hurt him at first."

"At first," Zane says flatly. Cole hurries to explain.

"After the beating Kai gave him, I tried to check on him and he flinched so hard that he smacked his head on the wall. He asked me why I would help him. He..." Cole pauses, thinking over his next words carefully.

"Yes? What happened next?"

"He told me we should kill him," Cole says softly.

Zane tilts his head, reminding Cole of Zane's falcon.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Hm." Zane's eyes brighten. "I have analyzed my memories from the room with Morro. Elevated heart rate, fast breathing, and irrational behavior are all symptoms of a panic attack. Morro exhibited all of those symptoms in the room, especially before he possessed Lloyd."

Cole sighs wearily.

"You're saying he had a panic attack."

"Yes. Did he show any other strange behavior? Something that could give us a clue as to what he's feeling?"

Thinking back to the conversation with Morro, Cole hums.

"He did mention Harumi again. I think he knows that he's not the worst the world has thrown at Lloyd." He bites the inside of his cheek. "How is Lloyd? You said you'd check on him."

Zane's shoulders drop, and he looks down sadly.

"He's locked himself in his bedroom. He won't come out or talk to me. I sense that the incident with Morro shook him more than we thought."

"I'll talk to Kai," Cole says, putting a hand on Zane's shoulder. "Maybe he can get Lloyd to come out."

"Perhaps. I-"

"Zane!" Jay stumbles into the room, eyes wide. "I've got something to tell you!"

Zane, getting over his surprise the fastest, opens his mouth, then tilts his head with a confused look.

"Why do I hear the Bounty's engines starting up?"

Jay shakes his head, grabbing Zane's hand and all but dragging him from the room.

"I'll tell you on the way. We got to go to your father's lighthouse!"

"What? Why?" Zane looks back at Cole, who follows with a shrug.

"I remembered someone that shouldn't have been forgotten."

"Who?"

Jay's practically ripping his hair out.

"First Master, he's probably been all alone! All these years... why didn't I remember sooner? Hell, why didn't I remember right away?"

"Jay, who?" Zane has to jog to keep up with Jay, even with his longer legs.

Jay suddenly whips around and shoots Zane a strange look.

"Your brother."

#ninjago #flockofcrows #g&gficverse #zane #cole #jay #kai #lloyd #nya #morro #sensei wu #g&g birdcage fic #ninjago birdcage fic

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icelandsgirl · 2 years

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Nyo!Iceland Headcannons #2

Her voice has an oddly high pitch.

She can play the violin, but she prefers the electric violin.

She loves birds, and besides Mr. Puffin, she has several other birds.

D A M N, she can run. Really flipping fast.

She can get very passionate about some things, like music, her country, her family and friends, etc.

Emi's favorite color is pale blue.

She's one of those people who could be freezing to death, bright blue skin, shivering uncontrollably, and look you dead in the eyes to say, "I'm not cold!"

She likes to dress Liechtenstein up in sparkly dresses and do her hair.

She loves anime and manga, and Nyo!Japan gave her every single LoveLive! album ever made.

She LIKES to wear tights. They're just comfortable.

She can't drive. She's a nervous wreck behind the wheel. She has a series of mini panic attacks every time she tries to drive, so Norway mostly drives her around.

She loves fairytales and happily-ever-afters, but she'll never say that.

She's not great in heat, but sometimes, she likes to surf with Seychelles.

She has watched Frozen and Frozen 2 no less than 473 times. She knows every word of them by heart and can be found singing Let it Go and Into the Unknown in Icelandic.

She has a Tumblr page solely for her Iceland aesthetic.

And a YouTube account solely for making nightcores of Icelandic pop songs.

She strongly dislikes boy bands but does occasionally listen to some of their music.

Emilia hates crying in public, or crying at all for that matter.

She loves liqourice just as much as Emil.

Ukraine sometimes does Emi's makeup.

Emilia has a Reddit account where she literally only reads the r/nosleep pages.

She's a huge fan of Creepypasta, her favorite stories being Clockwork: Your Time is Up and The Algorithm.

She loves the ocean, and she spends a lot of time at the docks, sitting on the piers, in Reyjavik.

Whenever she has a problem, she goes to her big brother Norway for help.

#hetalia #nyo iceland #nyo nordics #nyotalia #heacanons

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nikkywrites · 1 year

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Haunting Instinct

Summary: Olive ran from her past, years ago. Spent every minute trying to forget it. But it threatens her when a friend admits to giving an old enemy her name, warning that they’re still looking for her.

Warnings: childhood abuse if you squint hard enough, a bit of a mental breakdown/panic attack.

*****

Braden is complimenting her hair, calling her pretty like that undoes the last minute of her life, like that will earn him back the trust he's just crushed in his hands.

He just—

Her ears are roaring with the racing pound of her heart, drowning out his empty, pointless rambling compliments — a nervous habit, like the tick he does with his left hand. He's doing it now, she notes, as she struggles to breathe past the heated clench and frozen tremble of her throat. Her mind buzzes with his earlier words, echoing without diminishing. And beyond the nervousness sitting plain on his face, there's a flickering hope in his eyes. That the paper mache compliments will mend the chasm he's just dug between them.

Olive is harder to impress than that, harder to distract.

Though it doesn't stop her from noting it, from noticing. Trained instinct has her taking in everything and filing it away. She tastes old copper in the back of her mouth. She doesn't want that instinct anymore. Doesn't want to be her mother's daughter. Doesn't want to accept that Braden's given her up.

And the audacity of him to try to sweet talk his way out of this. How dare — sure he doesn't understand the full gravity of this, but — how dare he? This isn't a simple mistake. This isn't something he can talk his way out of.

He could say anything. Call the shit in the sewers beautiful. It would be as relevant, as important, as true as what he’s saying now — something about her coat. It was pointless. His opinion, subjective and changeable and voiced in the worst wrong moment.

That’s not where her focus really is though. All of her that isn’t half-stuck in a memory (sixteen and cold and guilty) is honed on him. What he said. What he did.

To think she thought him a friend — a brother.

She’s hyper vigilant. Noting the tiny details of his mannerisms in case there’s something important hidden there. A deeper, larger betrayal. A trap.

She cocks her hip out, hand gravitating to rest there, knuckles tight against the flight instinct she’s holding back. She swallows around the fear coated in her mouth. And, drawing on years of repression and pretending, composes her vocal cords enough that she can speak without her voice shaking. Confrontations, after all, are pitiful if one (she) breaks down during.

“What?”

She doesn’t have the time anyways. The clock is ticking, whatever answer he holds. She’s been found.

He chokes, mouth stumbling over what sounds like three different sentences as he processes her question. A flash of fear, briefly overtaking the nervousness. "You are!" he insists, not noticing the panic flared in her eyes, pressing on his stupid disjointed point like she was doubting his admiration. Like she has an insecurity issue, like she doesn't believe him. Like calling her pretty is the only thing he's said.

Like that's the only thing she could possibly be questioning.

He's ignoring the truth, she knows. Avoiding the worst, trying to see the mundane in this. Yet not seeing her mindless cast off to his words that she's projecting to cower behind. He should know better, on many counts. To ignore what he admitted, not seeing the truth of her posture, be it in the projected or the real. (Because how can he not see the panic? Her heart is beating in the base of her throat, pounding through her skin, beating at her collarbones, how the fuck can't he see that?). She doesn't care what he thinks. Especially now.

When he's daring to ignore it. What he's done -- given her name to those guard dogs. Fucking ignoring it. Does he think it doesn't matter?

His body language is screaming fear, too, his brown eyes focusing on hers and flying around like the man he spoke of will come back and clobber him. His fear is reassuring.

They're not coming. For the moment, she is safe. Safe to confront him. Safe to efficiently burn the bridge he's trying to rebuild between them.

She falls back into her head, into control. (It's dangerous to get distracted when you're scared, a voice hisses, familiar in ways she's tried to forget).

"What" —she clears her throat, staggering a step forwards to enter his personal space. "Repeat what you said," she strains, voice low, so wary of prying ears.

She needs to hear him say it again.

Ensure that her mind is not playing tricks, hearing betrayal where there was just an innocent compliment (not that she needs it. She doesn’t care what anyone thinks about her appearance. It held no value). She needs to hear that confession clearly, when the drumbeat of her heart doesn’t fuzz out the end of it.

Maybe she’s losing her mind. Let that be the case. Let her be overreacting to a compliment.

She needs to know if he’s really turned her in. If their friendship is truly lost.

If she really has to leave.

Braden sputters.

Olive would laugh if she wasn’t so fucking scared. This was absurd. This was important, how can he just — talk around it like it’s not there? Be able to even pretend to think that complimenting her makes up for shoving a knife in her back? Betraying her. Ruining the life she’s finally settled into.

She stifles it easily, thanks to the crawling feeling trailing up and down her spine.

His shoulders hunch in and forwards. “Olive, I— I didn’t mean to,” he chokes out, almost too breathy for her to decipher but relieving in that he’s finally acknowledging it.

A snort threatens to bubble up her throat at that, harder to bite back than the laugh. Does he really think that’s enough for her to forgive and forget? A wordier oopsie? This is her livelihood on the line. Her life. Her voice strains with the effort of holding in the mistimed amusement.

As if she could forgive or forget this.

(It’s what she gets for making a real friend).

"No," she spits out, low and stony in hopes that the message will beat itself into his skull so he’ll give her a moment to think without the backdrop of his fearful rambling. She just needs a moment. God, what was she going to do? Was he even after forgiveness? He has not asked for it or apologized properly. Is he not sorry? He’d hardly been able to admit his fault in the first place.

Was it no accident? Was he willing?

“How is that a fucking mistake?”

Her tone makes him flinch. It hurts and gives her some sick pleasure. A sinking guilt. She doesn't want to enjoy his fear, even if he should be feeling it.

There's a part of her, though, a part that has always longed to be comfortable that wishes he said nothing. It would damn her, but. She wouldn’t have to deal with this, if he hadn’t. She’d be stuck with demons she’s far more familiar with than him, in this context.

His throat bobs. There’s a bruise, green-blue, poking up out of his collar. Olive had noticed it when he walked up, of course, had been on the cusp of asking about it when– when he admitted what he did.

Then she knew.

He got it from whatever Hero captured and interrogated him. And he just — told him everything about her.

And, well, the part of her brain that’s scrambling to exonerate him thought that he was reluctant, that he had no choice. That it hadn’t been something he chose and there was still something to salvage. Except he hasn’t apologized and she doesn’t see any signs of guilt crushing him to the floor. He looks spooked and beaten but otherwise fine. He’s shaking in his fear but he’s able to look at her. If he felt anything about what he did-- he wouldn’t be able to look at her so easily. The guilt would be too much.

He’s not guilty and her pursuers know more about her than they did before they found him.

Braden made his choice.

“How could you?” she breathes, hurt lingering in the lightness of the question.

Olive backs up, retreating from the shuddering feeling of realization that’s beginning to flutter down around her. She calls it disgust, trying to be rational. To think she’d thought him a friend. Family, even. A tremor slams against her shoulders. She starts to turn, spin a 180 on her toe and get the hell out before her past catches her, but she stops midway, clicking her heel down.

“I can’t forgive that,” she says, unsure if she’s saying it to him or herself. This is no time to be forgiving, she tells herself, the words echoed in her voice and a much harsher one. Forgiveness is weakness. Weakness is getting yourself killed or worse.

She peers at him through narrow-lidded eyes, jaw tight against the hope plummeting down her throat. He does not look guilty, or sorry. Just afraid. Afraid of her and… not of her. If he was that scared to face her, a text would have delivered the message the same. Yet he insisted on doing it personally.

Why is she staying? She should be gone. Not hesitating. Hesitation was a fool’s game.

“Olive…” he stares at her with big, wet eyes.

He came seeking comfort, she realizes, for his fear of her to be unfounded. But he blocked out that chance by saying the one thing that would make her run. Her self-preservation was too strong to risk everything by staying so she could keep him from breaking. He wounded her freedom and came to her to— what? Make amends and pretend he did nothing at all?

“You should,” she says, “never speak of me again. Forget we were ever friends.” She has to look after herself — the first rule. The most important. If he’s a traitor, he’s a traitor.

Nothing to salvage from that.

(Everything to salvage, if she just learns the details. She should. Was it just her name, innocent enough or does he know, somehow? Know everything she’s been running from?)

She’s not one to hold a grudge (liar), but she’s not one to sweep away the past without proper rectification either. If he doesn’t fix the bridge he’s started burning, if he doesn’t convince her that he wasn’t eager to throw down the match, she’ll watch it crumble into the river.

This can become water under the bridge or there can be no bridge for the water to race beneath.

It’s his choice.

It shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t get any more chances. She should leave, but. Aren’t the details important?

“Twenty minutes,” she sighs, with a grumble. She’s gotten too soft. “Come on.”

She completes her turn and lifts her foot to take her first step towards a nearby bench. This is necessary. She needs the details, the who and the why and the what. And if he happens to explain himself, fix things. Well. That’s his matter. It’ll be hopeless if he tries but it’ll speak volumes to his motive whether he does or not.

It’s not a surprise, though, really, that he hasn’t tried yet. She knows him (that’s why this is stinging so much) but it still hurts that he’s not trying to smooth it all over immediately like she might have hoped. They’ve argued before but only over petty matters and misunderstandings they were able to talk out. There are no words, she reminds herself sternly, to make what he did right.

He sold her out.

He didn’t assist in a ploy to capture her (thank god. If he was in on it and smooth enough, she might have fallen for it), but he gave them her name which is a secret she’s kept for years. It was a starting point, them gaining headway on their fucking investigation that had nothing to do with her.

Or, well, it did. Had everything to do with her, in a sense. Not in how they think, though, potentially. Are they looking because of Wisconsin or because of that last job? She has skeletons to hide and some do lie where they are looking but she refuses to be buried for her family. The skeletons buried back then weren’t buried alone and she won’t suffocate for things her family forced her to do, the only thing she knew how to, won’t fall alone to mask their sins. She’s shrugged off everything she can from them, skeletons and memories and a name she does not respond to (but not, her brain snarls, the instincts. She knows better. She’s failing. It’s a miracle she isn’t caged or dead).

She hasn’t associated with them for years (since she was able to escape), longer than she’s been keeping her name private from the people who are desperately searching for a weak link in her family’s bloodline, for a chance to tear them all down. She has what they want. Names and addresses and aliases. But turning them in means doing the same for herself. Meant facing her demons. She won’t go down for her family and she’ll drag Braden down if he tries. She’ll ruin him if he even attempts to ruin her.

She won’t enjoy it. She never has. But she is capable of it, even without the shadow of her family as a threat lurking at her back. She learned from the best and those lessons linger.

“What?” he calls, too loud on the sidewalk.

She can feel his presence behind her, hear him scrambling to chase her. Her nails dig into her palm. She stops to glare at him over her shoulder. Was it not obvious? “You have twenty minutes,” she repeats. “I want everything you’ve said. Cooperate and I’ll call us even. I’ll let you go, just this once.”

She’s gone soft.

Why is she giving him the chance? He betrayed her, gave her name. Names can be traced to places traced to her. Does he not understand that? Does he not understand why she’s doing this? Why she’s threatening him with things she’s not sure she can carry out? Why she’s pulling back from their friendship?

She settles on the bench, the cold biting through her jeans.

His loyalty has a price.

A scuffle and some questions and he spit up everything they wanted to know. Someone like her can’t be close to people whose loyalty can be tarnished. Whose loyalty can be bought. She has secrets and a life she has to struggle to keep. Civilian life was hard. He was a threat to that.

Maybe she’s being a little irrational. Overreacting like her family is known to do because he didn’t tell them anything important, just an alias she can throw out and use to guide them on a wild goose chase, but he was put under pressure and he caved.

If he was willing to give her name over a little scuffle, a few bruises, what would he give over a broken bone? His life?

So no. She wasn’t overreacting. He settles beside her, clumsy and hesitant. He was a threat to her. She was going to leave, for good. Had no choice. It was run or be caught.

Too soft, she mourns. Civilian life is getting you killed. She can’t have friends that know who cave. He can’t– betray her, even if it was minimal, and expect her to welcome him back. She’s forgiving, she knows, with his mistakes but he’s never messed up like this before, putting her in danger.

He’s had the chance (a simple phone call to a hotline available at all times). This is the first time he’s taken it.

“Olive, please,” he begs, fingers twitching to grab at hers. She keeps her face smooth and thanks herself for telling him another alias as her real name even if that is the name she likes best for herself, one she’s particularly fond of. If she’s being honest… she doesn’t have a ‘real name’. But the one her family gave her isn’t the one he knows. If it was, she’d already be behind bars. “They had a gun on me, I didn’t know what else to do!”

Olive’s blood runs cold.

A gun? That– no. That was wrong. Extreme, out of place. There shouldn’t have been a gun, not if…

Heroes don’t threaten lives like that. Not directly, at least. Lord knows they were responsible for their share of injuries and worse but those were always a byproduct of Super Battles, of subduing Villains — easily explained and pardoned. She could see them scuffing Braden up a bit and threatening him, but a gun? That was horribly out of character.

That means—

“Did you see them? Notice anything that stood out?”

She has a sinking feeling.

She knows the culprit behind this, now, and it’s not the one she originally assumed. But it can’t be. But it could and if she’s right, she can’t blame him. She can’t say he’s a liability or a threat if she’s right.

It would change everything. But she prays it isn’t. Let it be that the Heroes or agents are too eager, that someone stepped out of line and Braden betrayed her. That’s easy. She can cope with that. It hurts but the alternative is so much worse.

Please let her not be right.

“I… it’s fuzzy,” he says, frowning at his knees. “My head felt weird. I didn’t… their voice was odd, too.” His brows pinch together. “Echo-y. I don’t know, it was… weird.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Were you told to lead me somewhere?” she asks.

He looks at her, eyes damp. “No.” He shakes his head.

Olive pulls the corner of her lip in her teeth. “Did… did he tell you to tell someone something?” She’d say that name, the one he would have said, but. She doesn’t want to out herself unnecessarily. She doesn’t want to wrap her tongue around the acid in those syllables.

She’d die before someone calls her that again.

“Yes.” He hesitates, eyeing her in a new way, pupils blown wide and whites stark. “...how did you know that?”

“Because.” It’s her turn to hesitate now. She glances subtly at her surroundings, at anyone who may be listening, pairing memory and guesswork against the people milling about. What if he’s here? “That was… I know who that was,” she explains, in the vaguest way she can. Then, because the truth is already confirmed and she owes Braden for doubting him. “That was my uncle,” she whispers, like the dark secret it is. It only makes sense.

The fogginess, the voice… She always hated Uncle Felix’s power.

But how did he find her? How did he find him? She ran alone, no one to pull her plans from. She was careful to keep her current self from her past, from the people she shares blood with. Paper trails were easy to follow and hers leads to the east coast, to Florida.

She’s not on the east coast. Not in Florida.

“What?” His eyes, comically, widen further. “Your Uncle?”

She nods. “Probably.” There’s a chance it was his son – they were still waiting to see if he picked up powers and there was a chance he inherited them from his father. She swallows, breath catching. “What were you told to say?”

Braden dips his chin. “I, uh, was told to tell– um.”

Olive’s hands shake. Don’t say it, she pleads. Aloud, she fills in his hesitation. “A Villain?”

“...yes.” He nods.

“And you were told…” she trails off, for him to complete her sentence.

He tugs at his left thumb, his nervous tick popping up again. “To tell… them,” his eyes lower to the concrete, “that they will not be able to stay hidden.”

Olive’s breath shudders out.

She thought they wrote her off. A lost cause.

“And,” he continues, “that they will not stop looking.”

“Oh,” she practically mouths, the word dissolving like medicine tablets in water around her. Her family was still looking. Time has not freed her as much as she hoped it would, has not watered her from their memory or lagged their search. “Oh.”

“That’s not” —Braden clears his throat. “What does it matter?”

She shifts her feet under her, pressing the balls of her feet against the floor. Adjusting her weight as assurance that despite how it feels, the world has not fallen out from under her. “That’s a long story,” she says. Pulls air into her lungs and pushes it out. As long as she is still drawing breath, she can salvage things. Herself. “You should go. It’s…” she stands, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. “I have to leave and… it’s dangerous for you.”

“I–” his hand brushes near her elbow. Ghostly. She is unsure if the touch is meant to be soothing for him or her. “I already know,” he says, an odd sadness to his tone. “Let me help you.”

“We’d have to leave for good,” she tells him. “It wouldn’t be… entirely legal. I don’t know that we’d ever stop.”

He shifts to the edge of the bench, clasping her arm tighter. “But I won’t be left alone,” he says slowly, like a realization, “will I?”

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, stares up at her. “We’re friends, right?” he asks, and she knows that her answer is important. He’s pieced it together. He’s not tossing her aside. She still has a reputation and he can’t ignore it. But he’s not running.

She nods, after a heavy moment. “Yeah. We are.”

“Then let me come with you.”

“You won’t be able to take that back,” she warns.

“I know. You’re family.”

Her breath catches. She holds his gaze. She should leave him behind. It was easier to find a pair than a lone person. But he knows too much. Fragments of the bigger picture, a past she swore when leaving that she’d never share. He was a friend and she trusted him, despite all the reasons she shouldn’t. “Okay,” she whispers. “If you’re sure.”

He grins. It’s lopsided, imperfect, but genuine. “I said I’d follow you anywhere, didn’t I?” He stands. “Us against the world, remember?”

She huffs, half poking-punching him in the side. “I was giving you an out, asshole. This isn’t a joke.”

“On brand, though.” He tips his head back. “Always knew you had a shady past.”

“Too soon,” she says. It was more than shady. Was awful. And they were on a time crunch. She was prepared to disappear, but she wasn’t prepared for him. She had to adapt. “I have a safe space,” she tells him. “It should be okay while I get you figured out.”

“Okay,” he agrees.

She sees how this overwhelms him, how out of his depth he is. It’s to be expected. He’s normal, from a normal family, he grew up living a normal life. He didn’t grow up in a family of Super Villains.

“I’ll keep you safe,” she promises, the words slipping out without her agreement.

It’s something she wants to promise. That means it will be hard for her to have. She’ll have to fight for it to be true. That’s fine. She’s fought before. She can hold her own. She can keep him safe, too, since that’s what he wants and she’s weak not to do what’s best for him. She’s been hungry for a friend like him since she was a little girl, shaking from her mother’s harsh tone.

“Don’t worry,” she tells him.

He clings to her arm, probably bruising her, but she doesn’t care. She’s had far worse. “Okay,” he says. “I trust you.”

Her chest constricts. What did she do to earn him? This fathomless trust?

She’s a criminal. And yes, she’s seen him like a brother, but. Family-like ties have never been sturdier than any other. But Braden… she bonded to him so deeply. Cared so damn much. Her mother would have opinions on that. Bonds are means of destruction, dearest. You must not have any. They’ll ruin you.

Looking at Braden, the person who’s never questioned her, who has become her piece of normal, who has always welcomed her, she amends her mother’s warning into a hope. They can save you, too.

And if she has to run forever to keep that, the normalcy he brings her, so be it.

She’ll do what she has to.

*****

Olive and Braden will be coming back, eventually. How do you like them?

Taglist: @super-writer-gal @mr-writes

#writeblr #writing #creative writing #original writing #my writing #nikkywritesstories #hero world #super world #oc Olive #oc Braden #tw panic attack #maybe? better to be safe #betrayal #kinda #look guys I posted something #it’s been ages

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folkdances · 1 year

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okay im locking merilance and roscobell in a room for 24 hours. if they can survive without insulting and/or killing each other then they win any prize of their choosing. at the 12 hour mark i introduce valerie to keep things fun. how does this play out

oh my god ok so for convenience's sake we are going to say this starts and ends at 8:00 am and this is how the day will break down:

8:00-9:00 - this is the period of time where if you get a new pet you have to let it get accustomed to the environment so they mostly just hang i think .. roscobell takes stock of the apartment and merilance alternates between sitting badly on the couch and bothering roscobell.

9:00-11:00 - things start getting funky. by this point merilance is definitely thinking about all the ways this endeavor is wasting her time and she's starting to get moody about it. roscobell has found a 2000 piece double-sided puzzle and has quietly spent the morning working on it.

11:00-12:00 - conversation time. they've both gotten bored enough that they can actually cancel out all of their layers of complexes and actually chit-chat with each other. 9/10 mostly pleasant.

12:00-1:00 - lunch time! there is a brief spat about which microwave lunch to prepare because merilance wants frozen pizza and roscobell wants frozen macaroni. in the end they put the macaroni on top of the pizza as a compromise.

1:00-1:30 - someone has to do the dishes and no one wants to take responsibility for it. this is where the seeds of discontent are planted.

1:30-2:30 - some sort of argument happens directly after the dishes have been cleaned and they have to both part ways for a half hour so they don't kill each other.

2:30-7:00 - they realize at mostly the same time that now they're lonely and bored so they get back together and the rest of this time period spends in largely amicable silence with only a few brief moments of terror (merilance wants to try her knife throwing skills; roscobell wants to see if she can knock the knives out of mid-air by growing lily of the vallies but Big. this constitutes the most life-threatening incident)

7:00-8:00 - really awkward time period of realizing they are actually chilling and enjoying each other's company; they both immediately put their layers of complexes and repression back on and spend the next hour much the same way they spent the second hour. roscobell breaks the puzzle and restarts it from the opposite side while merilance looks out the window mentally reciting the lyrics to high hopes by panic at the disco in-tune and backwards as a mental endurance test

8:00 - A NEW OPPONENT ENTERS THE RING - VALERIE WISHES TO CHALLENGE! well first they would have a strange awkward late dinner during which merilance is trying very hard to be polite and valerie is trying very hard to say something that'll make her do something funny. i'm placing this either shortly after or during the exile arc.

8:00-12:00 - things are not looking very good. valerie has gotten merilance and roscobell both to make facebook accounts and has now introduced them to the concept of vagueing which they will be very occupied with for a short period of time until someone says something and then everyone is mad at each other and at least one phone has been broken. there will also be at least one bitch session over what music to play in the background. we wrap up the early night hours with the decision to watch a movie.

12:00-2:00 - movies chosen by each party: roscobell wants to watch tom at the farm, merilance wants to watch the rock (1996), and valerie wants to watch zootopia. they do a dice-roll to see who wins; it is, according to the real-life dice roll i just did, valerie. merilance mistakes 'zooTOPIA' for 'zooLANDER'; valerie makes a "haha that's you" comment the second one of those jokers shows up on screen; merilance's kill switch is activated; merilance tries attacking valerie in a warrior-cat style; roscobell tries pulling them apart but in the process gets implicated in the fight; total injuries include one broken nose two black eyes and one cracked nail along with various scratches and bite marks. they have officially lost the contest 😢

some variables: if fenyan had been there, he would have made them all sit quietly and do biology-for-kids worksheets all day 10/10 very amicable everyone leaves happy. if adilene had been there, the contest would have been lost at about 9:10 am.

#SORRY FOR HOW FUCKING LONG THIS IS #chelseahotel2004 #acorn missives

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foggyparadisecandy · 1 year

Text

On Anxiety

[CW: descriptions of anxiety, this is my real-life - not some sneaky trance]

Sitting at the restaurant, the waiter comes over and asks my wife and me if we want sparkling or still water.

And bam. Just like that.

I’m frozen.

Unable to speak. Unable to look up. Terrified. Feeling the world collapsing in on me.

How does this happen?

How does one get to this place in life where they are debilitated by such a simple thing?

I’m not exactly sure but I sure as hell think about it a lot.

I’ve spent 40+ years on this planet being a type A+ perfectionist.

I’m always the responsible one.

I’m always the caring one.

I feel the weight and burden of every choice, every decision, every mistake.

True story:

I used to nearly pass out when reading my work emails. I thought I had a neurological problem, but after many check-ups and tests, doctors convinced me I was “perfectly healthy … physically.”

I started to track what was happening and realized … I was holding my breath while reading emails because I became so stressed out, so anxious, so overwhelmed.

So. Much. Stupid in that situation. I started to watch myself from then when I read emails to make sure I was breathing.

Can you imagine? Having to make sure you breathe just to read your emails?

I’ve suffered from other phantom ailments over the years. Imagined illnesses that ultimately came down to doctors telling me I was “perfectly healthy … physically.”

And still.

I know from hypnosis that your mind can make your body feel certain things, certain ways.

My mind is riddled with anxiety and insecurities.

My body is happy to play along and report back that it's falling apart even when it's not.

Side note:

I say it often, but it's true. I sincerely appreciate when people like and reblog my posts because it puts some of those insecurities on hold. For a moment, anyway. At least a bit. I know it’s a false metric. My insecurities are not really solved by a like here and there. But it does help me feel good, so thank you all for your kindness.

So I’ve always had stress-related problems.

I’ve suffered from depression, which may or may not be related. Severe depression.

No need to worry about me on that front – my depression faded (mostly) when I left my 20s and developed better worldviews, and refocused my internal monologue through the consistent application of good coping strategies.

Enter: COVID

Since COVID, I have started having panic attacks.

It’s not consistent. It’s not every situation. It’s not persistent or constant.

It’s … random.

I evaluate. I watch. I try to find the patterns.

I know it has to do with feeling overwhelmed and out-of-control and in a fraught situation. But still … it’s not EVERY time, so that gives me hope.

But it’s frustrating.

I can be at my dinner table with my wife of 20 years and suddenly feel frozen and unable to speak or move. Feeling that impending sense of doom. While discussing dinner plans. Or what to watch on TV.

It’s completely fucked up.

I’ve been working on it.

I’ve even gotten some nice little pills from a doctor, even though I DETEST using nice little pills to solve my problems. But they calm me and let me move through life, simulating my old self, who was footloose and fancy-free.

I use meditation and forms of self-hypnosis. I talk with others. I'm more open about my struggles. I hear from others.

I had gotten to a place where I had gone for over 5 weeks without an attack.

It was lovely.

But then last week, in that restaurant, it hit me out of the blue.

There was stress involved. The restaurant was loud. We had been trying to find a place that could seat us over an hour. Every other place was packed.

My wife told me she didn’t think there was anything she would want to eat. She had us get seated anyway. And instead of looking over the menu, she proceeded to focus on taking off her jacket and getting situated.

I felt anxious.

Were we going to stay? Were we going to go? Why was she fucking about with her jacket if she wasn’t sure we would stay?

And then the waiter came over and my world folded in on me and I was done for.

Later I told my wife what happened and she said she wasn’t aware (she knows I’ve been struggling so it wasn't a surprise - but she didn't notice anything out of the ordinary) so I guess that’s good.

I guess I didn’t look like a complete weirdo.

But still.

And I don’t blame my wife for this.

I’m just describing *my* feelings. The problem is the way *I* felt. That's *me* and no one else.

My internal machinery took this simple and inconsequential situation and made it into this giant ball of anxiety.

Since that incident a week ago, I’ve frozen up three separate times on video calls and had to shut off my camera to be able to operate.

I guess my brain is ok with functioning if no one can see me? Good times.

So why am I sharing this?

For any of you who are struggling, you are not alone.

By most measurements, I’m successful in life. I have a good family life. I have a good job. I’ve spoken in front of large audiences before.

“Oh what do you have to worry about?” “Oh, you’ll be fine.” “Just get over it. You’ve done this before.” “Yeah, like you have anything to worry about.”

Anxiety and panic can happen to anyone.

You are not alone if you feel it.

I’m not sure that helps you but … I hope so.

Luckily my wife is a rock.

And I have friends I have spoken to who understand and support without the judgment of “that doesn’t make sense, you are so successful.”

I know they are trying to be supportive but fuck the people who try to wave away mental conditions. You make me feel even worse, like I'm completely defective.

Side note:

Special thanks to a wonderful friend I met here on Tumblr who has been a real treasure to me and shared her coping strategies. Thank you, sweetie.

Feel free to share if you think this will help anyone you know.

And, if you will excuse the indulgence, I will try my hand at a bit of poetry to express this bullshit.

I shake and reel, From phantom fears that feel so real.

I shut my eyes, Hide away and wait for them to pass me by.

I lock my doors, Curled in a ball, lying, waiting on my floor.

It isn’t me. This frozen thing that wants to flee.

And be free.

And I want to Be free.

And I keep working, working, Working on me.

And I can see, Someday I will find the key.

And be free. To be me.

Until that day, I’ll fight to keep it all at bay.

And find a way. To be okay.

And I keep working, working, Working on me.

Someday, the sun will rise, And I will greet it with Open arms and open eyes.

Shadows fade, and fall away, Leaving me free to seize the day And be okay. Free to be okay.

#stress #mental wellbeing #mental health #catharsis #self care #on topic #poetry

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armyhome · 1 year

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(Un) Perfects | Beomgyu

⇢ summary: Lilo is a complicated girl, but also is Beomgyu and the journey of both are a mess.

⇢ pairing: Lilo x Beomgyu.

⇢ a/n: hi my people, it's being a long time since lost in your love story right? well i was really trapped in this thing called adulthood, it's sucks i know, but for me is always better then anything i lived while i was a tennager, i'm working on that on therapy I promise, which is why this story came to me, I think, here you will find deep things about me, so please don't judge... too much... ok?I know we live in a plastic society today, where everyone is so perfect and lives those perfect lives, but in this story everyone is (un)perfect, like me, so I'm showing the most human that my perfectionism allowed me to be, hope you all undertand.

Chapter 1: Attention.

Chapter 2: Ditto

Beomgyu's POV

All this semester I have had a nemesis, yes a nemesis, there's no one on this planet that pisses me off more than Lilo Fisher, this girl is capable to bring out the worst in me, she thinks that knows everything, and judges everyone from the high pedestal she put herself on because she is so spoiled.

"You should take a picture if you gonna stare her that much…" Hueningkai says giving my test, I blushed like I was found doing something wrong.

"And congrats to Miss Fisher, you had first place in the class," Lilo smiled at the paper in front of her, and then look directly at me, I hate her so much when she gives me that full-of-teeth smile.

"Thank you, professor" Hueningkai sits next to her "Should we go celebrate lunching with Soobin oppa?" She asks him,

"Oh, so you're not running to Sunday guy?" Hueningkai messes with her hair, and Lilo seems shy for feel seconds.

"Well is not Sunday so…"

"Okay, I'll accept not to only celebrate your ego, but I also miss my boyfriend so much…" In my wildest dreams, I call Yeonjun like this.

My boyfriend, not only my best friend, mom says it's a curse on our family, cause when she was a teenager she also fall for a boy that end up being gay, so was my turn to fall for a straight guy and we laugh together, sometimes I really don't understand how an angel like her get marry with someone like my dad.

I leave class without looking at Lilo once, afraid of Hueningkai finding me doing something wrong again, when I was in the hall I hear some girl screaming at her boyfriend.

"YOU NEVER DO ANYTHING RIGHT, HOW CAN SOMEONE BE SO USELESS," she says, and then memories of my dad saying the same thing to me and my mom invaded my mind and became hard to breathe, I was far from him, living in another city with nana and my mom I try to remember myself, I was frozen, in the middle of my leaving room at my old house, my dad was breaking stuff like always, I could feel the smell of that place again.

"Hey idiot, are you okay?" I hear someone that seems really far call me, familiar but I was stuck on that memory "Listen to me, you are safe here" Dads break another thing and the voice became far I try to follow but it was hard to connect "I need you to take a deep breath, follow my voice I'm right here…" I inspire the air with all strength that I have than exile "Nice, you're doing great, the place you're stuck, has a television or a radio?" What f was that question? I look at the leaving room, dad still screaming I see the radio right next to the sofa "Take another deep breath, can you turn it on?" I breathe one more time, was so hard but I turn the radio on so I a hear a song, a calming song in my ears.

"Stay in the middle, like you are little" slowly I was taking control of my breathing again, I open my eyes, and found Lilo's brown eyes, they were so dark, like puss in boots eyes, what heck, she took a deep breath and I follow her movements "Someone calls the emergency, they're coming to help you" She was holding the headphones on my head "Sorry if I cross the line getting this close of you, but this was something my mom used to do with me when I had a panic attack…" She step back, and I hold her hand, was too afraid to come back to that room inside my mind, if Lilo disappears maybe I get locked in that place again. So the paramedical put the oxygen mask on me and slowly I feel more connected with reality.

"Don't need to call my mom…" I whisper.

"She's already here child," The nurse says to me while checking my heart frequency "You should be taking medicine for those you know that right?"

"I take, was just a random episode, too much stuff at the same time…moving houses, changing school…" I try to explain, so Yeonjun enters the room.

"Are you okay Beomgyu?" He seems so worried that makes my heart flutter.

"I'm fine hyung" Yeonjun holds my hand, his touch was so rough, because of guitar training, that's for some dumb reason reminds me of Lilo holding my hand, helping me to keep calm, but her touch was soft, of course, she never works her entire life, that's why her spoiled hands were so soft.

"My baby," mom's says looking at me "Are you hurt? A kind girl with a cute name give me this, say it that's for you" Mom give me a small bear, the size of a charming key, on his belly was writing [BREATH] "But she said she still bit you up, on school tests! I like her!" I roll my eyes, this was such a Lilo Fisher thing to do "I think she likes you so make sure that she knows you are not interested" Yeonjun laugh.

"She would never do that because she is my half-sister that hates me and Beomgyu for the occasion of being my best friend" Best friend is better than nothing Choi Beomgyu, I tell myself I hold the bear, was so soft, made for squeezy.

"I don't know if she cares about you that much Junnie, look, we hate each other, but she takes care of me the whole time" I got nothing to lose, her voice singing in my mind, dam it. I have everything to lose Lilo.

"She seems in love with someone else," His eyes became darker, oh Yeonjun, please don't fall for that spoiled girl, don't break my heart like this "Lilo helped because she is a good person you liking it or not"

"How can you call a good person someone that says those things about your mom?" Yeonjun took a deep breath, and sigh.

"My little sis and my dad passed away, one month later she was having an affair with Henry while his wife was surviving... an sorry about my mouth aunt, mother f cancer, mom is not saint, Lilo has her reasons…" One more time he is on her side, this makes me mad, even when I know he is right.

"Okay, I need to rest, can we go home mom?"

We stay in silence all the way home, I hold that dame bear like if I dropped I would come back to that place in my mind, why wasn't Yeonjun the one to take care of me? Why do I feel like I need to do something for her?

The next day was Friday and I decided to spend it at home, my body's energy was drained, watching tv shows, and for so dumb reasons Saturday night I drive downtown, San Seoul was always in a party vibe, and I need have fun, I don't drink because my medicines, but I laugh with old friends, people that I don't have to hide anything of me. I dance, and kiss some boy that I don't even know the name of, but was so good to feel that someone was desiring me, and I was desiring him.

"Come with us to the Truck party, has a lot of good music, and people that are fun Beom," The boy says, I just follow him, someone was singing in the back of a truck, which explains the party's name

So one more time I feel like I was found doing the wrong thing, Hueninkai's eyes found me, that guy has a gay radar on him, how did he always know where to look to find me? He smiled at me and waved, I look back to see if he wasn't talking with another person, but he walks in my direction with his boyfriend, Choi Soobin.

"I'm so glad to see you here all health Beomgyu hyung," Hueningkai says smiling, ah, he is having empathy by the episode at school, ew "That way Lilo will shut up about being worried as a human being" He imitates her voice perfectly "And will come back to be obsessed only about that Sunday guy" Hueningkai rolls his eyes.

"Wait, Lilo is here?" I ask and Soobin nodded.

"Yes she will be the main performance since Ariel is somewhere," He says "I don't wanna hear her complain after Lilo became a successful singer, because that boy "Soobin whistles "The way Lilo sings is almost a spiritual thing, I will buy some soda for you Kai, do you guys want something?" We denied and Soobin left.

"I think you're so great Hueningkai" The boy hugging me says "Date a bisexual guy implies on really trust, I would be jealous even about the way he was talking about your bestie"

"Do you know Lilo?" I ask the boy in my arms, and he denies "Well she is like a diva, doesn't matter what sexuality you will feel something for her, hate or love," I sigh "And please be respectful about other people's sexuality, what you just say was so biphobic…" I explain gently"

"Oh my god, you are so boring right now, I'm leaving" No one will miss you, I wanna say but wasn't a need for any drama.

"Thank you Beomgyu" Hueningkai whispered, "I'm glad Soobin didn't hear that bull shit, he struggled enough because of people with opinions like his…"

"Don't worry" I saw Soobing coming in our direction and trying to change the subject "So if Lilo is that great singer, why Ariel is the one always in the lead?"

"Lilo didn't sing anything before she meet this Sunday boy, was a surprise for us too" Hueningkai explains "Beside him, you're the only person she talks about, but don't say to her that I told you"

"So Yeonjun was right she is in love with someone" The words just runway from my mouth.

"How does he know? I, Soobin, and Ariel were the only ones to know until now…" Hueningkai looks at me "And being honest if your friend even breaths closer to Lilo, she will not be kind like she was with you…" And is like my mind is completely a puzzle, the way Yeonjun talks to me, his eyes, his almost jealous, he knowing Lilo was in love with someone. I gasp, that was so cruel, even me hating Lilo, my god "Beomgyu, I don't know to do what Lilo did at school so don't freak me out and breath!"

"It's him Hueninkai" I saw Soobin losing his breath too.

"Him what?" Soobin sighs at Hueningkai's question.

"She will be so devastated, she is so in love with him…" Soobin mumbles.

"Do you both know who is?" Hueningkai was shocked.

"Yeonjun is Sunday guy Kai," I say at the end.

"Hi everyone my name is Lilo, my best friend in life Ariel that is a way best singer than me couldn't make it today, but I hope you all enjoy my voice too… So let's go!" Lilo said at the top of a truck.

Soobin was so right, hearing Lilo sing was a spiritual experience, I think it was because she canalizes all her feeling on that, and Lilo was someone with a lot of feelings, deep feelings, I wish I could protect her as she did with me, but you can't protect people for themselves. All over the internet, I was the kind that never believes what is on the internet, but maybe just this once, I always read that gay guys have their own divas, maybe Lilo was mine. But I would never tell her that.

"Hueningkai, I think we must do something I will try to talk with Yeonjun tomorrow, see if everything that I'm thinking is thruth, can you distract Lilo for feel hours?" Hueninkai looks at Soobin, that seems positive about my idea.

"Yes, but you unless has a plan?" I sigh.

"First I will check if Sunday guy is really Yeonjun, then if was relly him, I call you, and you call her saying is an emergency" Hueningkai thinks for while.

"Okay, I can do that, and I know is your best friend, but if he is doing that, he is a idiot"

"I love my Lilo, but she dosen't have the best personality eider, maybe they both just going throught a lot" Soobin coments.

"Yes, I prefer think that way too" I say thinking about everything Yeonjun survived this years.

"Sorry if I'm being too nousing…" Soobin starts "But he knows about your feeling for him?" So I felt my face burn, and Hueningkai quickly says.

"You don't have to answer, this is not his busness" I never said out loud my feeling for Yeonjun but would be good.

"He dosen't, and I preferer keep that way" And was like taking out something heavy from may shoulders "Only my mom and my grandma knows I'm gay"

"Untill minutes before I could swer you were bisexual by the way you were looking at Lilo" Soobin comments, and Hueningkai slaps softly his arms.

"You think everyone is bisexual! Dosen't even need a reason!" Hueningkai accuses his boyfriend.

"I need stand for my people! You know how much we and the other with a no binary sexuality suffers in this comunity? We're call perves, confusing, etc. We need stay together!" I laugh because of the voice tone Soobins was using, was so great have an comfortable conversation with close age friends.

"Well I have being gay since I was born, almost fifiteen year…" Soobin smiles. "The same way people discover they're bisexual after a lot heterosexual relationships, some people discover on the otherwise… Sexuality can be fluid as a river." Hueningkai roll his eyes.

"Can you please respect Beomgyus sexuality? He stands for you just an hour ago, don't make him regreat" Soobin expression change, and I smile at him.

"Sorry, I don't mean being pushing or anything"

"I don't mind, is really great to have friends to talk about those things!" So they both hug me, this makes me frooze in surprise.

"We got your back" They say together.

Chapter 3: Hype Boy

#txt fanfic #beomgyu imagines #txt #choi beomgyu #beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu fic #beomgyu #choi soobin #choi yeonjun #kang taehyun #hueningkai

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genshin-obsessed · 4 years

Text

You Get Injured!

Yo! I’m back and this time with a little bit of angst. One thing about me: I ADORE ANGST!!! LEMME BREAK SOMEONE’S HEART!!! I love, love, love writing angst so much! Anyway, enjoy!

Summary: You get injured on the job, what’s his reaction?

Includes: Aether, Kaeya, Diluc, Venti, Razor, Xiao, Xingqiu, Zhongli, and Childe! (YES I ADDED AETHER >:0)

Come one, come all! See what happens when you come home injured!

Warnings: Mentions of blood, no details though.

You were supposed to be with Aether, but he had his own commissions, but he swore he’d come help you right after. You weren’t patient and ended up getting into a fight with too many hilichurls and it didn’t end well.

He immediately remembered the time he lost Lumine, but for some reason, he was even more scared than that incident. He felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him and he’d completely frozen up. When he saw your bloodied form fall to the floor, it brought him back to reality.

He ran to you and pulled you into his arms, desperately searching for life. He needed to see that you were ok. In fact, he’d taken your hand and squeezed your wrist to feel your pulse. It was weak, but it was there. He pressed his lips to yours, ignoring the taste of iron that followed.

As the doctor was stitching up the larger gashes, he was cleaning up the blood around your face and whispering words of encouragement to you. He gave you water and held your hand throughout the entire process.

PERSONAL NURSE AETHER REPORTING FOR DUTY! Beck and call, whenever you need him, he’s there for you. He put his adventuring on hold until you were 100% better.

Did you need an adventuring partner? Cuz Aether needs one! And you’re the perfect candidate. He’s going on adventures will you- well ok, he’s going EVERYWHERE with you but for a while. Once his nerves and anxiety dies down, he backs off quite a bit.

You had been fighting hilichurs for a commission and the last thing you had expected was multiple Mitachurls to be around. Well, there were more than you could handle and they floored you.

His heart almost stopped when he saw your bloodied form walking towards him, reaching out ever so weakly. He sprinted towards you, hating that he wasn’t there for you. Why was he so slow?! Why were so you far away, dammit?

He takes you into his arms and holds you close before quickly rushing you to the doctor. He knew he might’ve been a bit rough, but he could barely think. All that was going through his mind was him wishing that it was all just a nightmare.

He’s there 24/7, whenever you need him. He’s got meals, blankets, cuddles, kisses, whatever you need. He helps you with EVERYTHING. He knew it was hard to shower with all those wounds and he didn’t want your stitches to open up, so he was a bit strict.

After your full recovery, he’s a little bit hesitant to let you go on your own. He might just join you on a mission or two. Don’t mind him, but once his worries are eased a little, he backs off. Besides, the cavalry captain can’t exactly run around with you, even though he so desperately wants to.

You were on your way to Mondstat from Liyue where you ended up on a beach with more ruin guards than you could handle (may the lord protect you if you wander there on accident).

Full fledged panic. It almost feels like someone was actively tearing his heart out. He couldn’t even breathe in that moment. He desperately wished he could heal you (I don’t think he can…), make you all better so you wouldn’t have to hurt so much. Were… were you crying?

He ran to you but the second he reached out to touch you, he pulled back a little. He was almost scared to touch you, like something as gentle as his touch might shatter what remained. He didn’t want to hurt you anymore, but it was clear you couldn’t walk so he had to carry you.

He does hold you close when you get help, whispering words of encouragement and love to you; anything to help. He immediately helped clean the blood off of you, trying to be as gentle as possible.

Through your healing process, he’s beside you constantly. He helps you with everything. Anything you need, he’s there. Thirsty? He’s got some water. Hungry? He’s got a plate of food. Need cuddles? Scoot over.

He’s actually terrified to let you go, but he knows you. This is your job and he’d seen you in action. So, he does let you go… as long as he can stick to you like glue (Cries in no Venti).

You had been hunting some abyss mages down and everything was going great… until it wasn’t. A rookie mistake almost caused your death. You’d never been so scared and the only thing you could think of was Diluc in that moment. You wanted to be in his arms.

He thought he’d been caught in a nightmare. He genuinely believed it wasn’t you. But when you called out to him, he was yanked back to reality. Everything felt so weird, it felt like a weird out of body experience for him. He was so scared he was shaking as he reached out to touch your bloodied face.

The first thing he does is check you to see how bad your injuries are before he brings you home to his personal doctor. Your blood burned him, it stung as tears welled up in his eyes. How could he let this happen to you? How could he fail you like this?

As the doctor patches you up, he sits beside you, holding your hand and giving you kisses every now and then, telling you you’re doing great and that you’ll be ok. He was still shaking, but he didn’t want you to worry, so he did his best to hide it.

He’s extremely busy, so he can’t be beside you 24/7, but he tries to be with you every single night. In fact, he lets the knights handle everything while you heal, not wanting to leave you alone for too long

You best believe he’s hunting down every single abyss mage in existence. One hurt you? They all suffer. You try to keep him in check by keeping him at your side.

You had decided to challenge Electro Hypostases on your own... You should’ve been more careful. You didn’t realize how powerful it was and you got extremely lucky.

Oh he can smell your blood from a distance. So he didn’t even need to see you to know you were injured. He was terrified. His heart was beating so fast and he couldn’t catch his breath. He felt himself going insane when he couldn’t find you.

Well wolves lick their wounds, but he couldn’t lick yours. One, it wouldn’t work, your wounds were too deep, two, he was a human, not a wolf. He knew your friends could help you so he rushed you back to Mondstat (I’m sure this is probably wrong, feel free to roast me).

Although he knew the doctors were just trying to help, he couldn’t stop himself from being aggressive. He even growled at a doctor when you whimpered as you received the stitches. Kaeya and Jean had to hold him back.

No one is allowed near you until you’re fully healed, Razor doesn’t let anyone get close. It’s not just him being super possessive, he was deeply terrified that in case someone attacked you while he wasn’t there…

Your new adventure partner is Razor. Even if he has to live in Mondstat with the other humans, he’ll do it. As long as you’re with him. Don’t bother trying to argue, it won’t work.

You had a teeny weeny competition with Xiangling that you two could find the best ingredients first. You got careless, wandered into a hilichurl camp, only to get floored by 4 mitachurls.

Who hurt you?! Who hurt you and where are they? Xiao just wants to talk.

Thankfully, the boss of the inn was able to find some help for you and helped patch you up, while Xiao waited patiently. On the outside he looked calm, on the inside- well it was chaos. Nothing could calm his anger and anxiety.

He reassured you that you did a great job, letting you know that he was proud of you. Not to mention, he kept thanking you for coming back alive so that he could save you. He didn’t even want to think about what could’ve happened if you weren’t able to come back…

He kept you close. As you healed, he was almost like a personal nurse. He brought you whatever you wanted and lots of almond tofu. If you don’t like it… well more for him.

He was very reluctant to let you go. He couldn’t go with you and it was his biggest regret. But he knew holding you back would do nothing, therefore he poured all his faith and trust in you. So please... come back to him.

You had gone to visit Chang the Ninth and on the way back had seen a village get attacked by some abyss mages. You jumped into action without thinking… at all.

Xingqiu actually hadn’t looked up from his book because he was so invested. You called after him, collapsing nearby but he wasn’t even paying attention. Finally, he heard you scream and jumped, his heart leaping out of his chest. He still won’t forgive himself… or pick up a book.

He immediately takes you back home, carefully carrying you so that he wouldn’t agitate your injuries anymore than they already were.

He stayed by your side and even helped patch you up, wanting to do as much as he could to help. He even kissed your injuries to help them heal faster.

He stays by your side as much as possible. You suggest he read you some books, but it seems like he’s too scared to touch any. Something that might need time to recover from.

Xingqiu’s still too busy to join you, but whenever he can, he definitely does. He is a little too protective in the beginning but as time goes on, he finds himself being able to hold back.

You just needed some chaos devices, just a few. YOU DIDN’T EXPECT TO GET YOUR ASS HANDED TO YOU SO BADLY!

He couldn’t believe it. His heart had almost stopped when he saw you walking towards him. You were covered in blood and you weakly reached out before you fell. He dashed forward and caught you before you hit the ground.

He takes you to his place, getting a doctor to immediately patch you up. As they were cleaning your wounds, he tried to stay calm, yet had this overwhelming urge to destroy whatever hurt you into a million pieces.

He stayed with you, nursing you back to health. Of course, constantly forgetting mora was a thing when buying you literally anything. This will never change.

He wasn’t able to understand why he couldn’t physically let you go in the beginning. Slowly, it made sense that he was scared. Scared he might lose you and that you might never come back. Scared you might disappear like you almost did. But you were… well you. So he had to trust you. Come back home to him safely.

You had just finished up your commissions and were head home when you stumbled upon an Oceanid. You needed a cleansing heart… or four. You weren’t prepared and you were a little tired, but you went anyway. You were lucky you came back alive.

Childe had set up a cute little date for you two, but you were running a little bit late. He was starting to get worried and when he asked Katheryne, he was surprised to learn that you hadn’t returned home from your commissions. Then he saw you. Leaving a trail of blood and limping towards him. He felt as if someone had done all that to him instead.

He immediately runs to you, with Katheryne following. The two of them quickly get you some medical attention, but Childe refuses to let go the entire time. No matter what anyone says, they can’t take you away, so he goes with you everywhere.

You explain what had happened afterwards and he was angry that you’d put yourself in danger for a stupid item. But at the same time, he was proud of you for beating the Oceanid and coming back to him, regardless of what shape you were in. You still got an earful though.

He wanted to be around you 24/7, but he’s really busy. He tries to get away from work as much as he can to spend time with you. Throughout your healing process, he does a lot to help. Simple things like making you meals, the ones that melt your heart.

He was reluctant, constantly checking up on you and even wanting to go on adventures with you. But he couldn’t spend every minute with you, so he needed to learn how to ease his own anxieties. Of course, you would never say no to going on a few adventures with him.

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mightyb013 · 2 years

Text

The Batman Meets Robin

Bruce had been there as one of his 'public appearances'. He'd gotten an invite to attend the opening ceremonies of Gotham's latest attempt to draw in some tourism. They'd be hosting a circus in the newly renovated concert hall.

The Riddler's attacks had left Gotham with a reputation that needed mending. That was surely out of the question now though.

Bruce had seen the trapeze wire snap, he'd stood from his seat with the instinct to try something to save them. But even Batman couldn't react that fast.

People had gasped and screamed. It took seconds for someone to run out and get to the couple on the ground. Members of the circus, dressed in their clown makeup and spangly uniforms came flooding from the wings to get people to leave.

Bruce saw through the panic and commotion a boy, wearing the same uniform as the unmoving bodies on the stadium floor. He saw him frozen and shocked with trauma he'd never recover from settling in the way Bruce had experienced before.

As he stood in the lobby with the others who'd been ushered out he watched paramedics and officers rush by. He stayed as the public walked out, now owning sad stories to retell. A few journalists approached the officers keeping the doors closed. "A tragic accident has happened," the man in uniform answered. "They're on the way to the hospital."

"What's their condition?" One reporter asked.

"Do you think Gotham's cursed?" Asked another.

"How did the wire break?"

"Where was the safetynet?"

Bruce stepped closer with his own question. "Where's their son?"

Those present turned to him with recognition and some awe. Bruce Wayne the recluse was here, on a night of familiar tragedy, how terrible for him.

"Um, he's probably going to the hospital?" The officer didn't know the answer to Bruce's question. It was alright though, he knew where they weren't going, and that was the hospital.

He remembered sitting at the police station, feeling alone, listening to the adults around him talking about next of kin and how sad this all was.

Bruce got there before them. He hated that. He'd hoped they wouldn't have shown at all. A boy being escorted into a police station wasn't one who had family to be turned over to.

He sat quietly in his car with thoughts of sympathy and agony, remembering his night, and how this one was someone else's.

Bruce used the car phone to call home. "Wayne Residence," Alfred answered. He'd recovered and returned home and Bruce was comforted by his voice.

"Alfred," he began tensely, "something's happened at the convention center."

"What now?" Alfred asked urgently. He was expecting a bomb or something just as terrible, ready to react as Batman's advisor and assistant.

"Two people are dead. They're calling it an accident," he relayed what information he had.

"Was it?" He asked with suspicion, why else would Bruce be calling.

"I don't know." Bruce shook his head and looked again at the steps to the GCPD, no one else was walking in. "There was a boy, their son."

On the line was a soft inhale of breath. "Master, Bruce," the sadness in his voice said the rest.

"They took him to police headquarters, Alfred," Bruce went on, "he has no family."

"You don't know that for certain," Alfred tried to be reassuring.

"I don't think I can wait to find out." He'd been thinking about it since before the lobby of the convention center had cleared. He'd been thinking about it the whole drive to the police department, and since he'd watched him disappear into the building. He needed to do something, he needed to help him.

"What are you going to do, sir?"

Bruce watched a cab pull up and a woman with a lanyard and folio bag get out. "Make up a spare room for the night," he told Alfred. "Just in case." He hung up and got out of the car in time to intercept the social worker. "Excuse me."

She did a double take. "Bruce Wayne?"

"Does he have family in the city?" Bruce didn't let her say something else. She looked confused and torn between answering or not. "I want to help," Bruce spoke with sorrow and honesty. "I just want to help."

She looked up the steps and then back again. She could have told him no, that this was none of his business, but she knew his story, all of Gotham did. "Come inside. I'll give you some paperwork."

Part 2

#the batman #battinson #please batman and robin movie when?!#fanfic

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morelikedoccock · 2 years

Note

The prompt "you’re going to be fine, okay? you’re going to be fine. “ just gets me right in the feels- it's the kind of angst/fluff I desire, and if you could do a lil drabble for it? I'd be elated (please and thank you I love your writing muah ♥)

This got a little intense, I hope that’s alright!! The prompt is just v good and it sent me down a big angst—>hurt/comfort—>fluff rabbit hole😆

Doc Ock x Gender neutral reader

(Warning for descriptions of the reader having a panic attack)

~~~

It settles over your skin like a blanket of crackling frost. You halt, your hands still submerged in warm, soapy water, and struggle to breathe. Where has all the air suddenly gone? You had just been thinking about some important things going on in your life while you wash the dishes, trying to figure out some crucial logistical issues, and then—

You stare down at the sink as if seeing it from behind a distorted panel of thick glass, listening to the frantic pounding of someone else’s heart. Those couldn’t be your hands, could they?

The chilly breeze on the back of your neck barely registers through the cold already seeping into your flesh. The sound of a window slamming shut echoes strangely inside your head, bouncing off empty walls.

“I can’t believe this,” someone snaps. The words crack like a twig in the distance. “I really can’t— this time he’s gone too far. I was just about to—”

You blink, operating a machine slowed nearly to immobility by an invisible force, and manage to turn just enough to look at the speaker.

Otto’s cheeks are flushed, his eyes bright. He’s pacing back and forth in the living room, absently rubbing his wrists as if they’re bothering him. His actuators are moving around him like angry snakes, bobbing and weaving and making small hissing noises. He notices you look and frowns.

“You don’t even— hey, are you alright?!”

You watch in vague apathy as the color drains from his face. When you don’t answer, unable to use a tongue that sits like cement in your frozen mouth, he strides forward, his irritation apparently forgotten.

“You’re white as a ghost,” he says, sounding worried. The words reach you as if spoken across a vast body of water. He’s talking about you. Your form has a face attached, doesn’t it? Hands lift on alien arms, moved by muscles that feel distinctly foreign, and then fingers press to your cheek, cold and slimy. Otto looks… almost frightened as he stares at you. Wasn’t he just angry? What happened?

He swallows hard.

“Can I touch you?” he asks, holding out his hands. His gloves are missing. How odd. The question takes a long moment to seep into your vacant consciousness, and when it does, it takes another moment before you remember that a question usually needs an answer. He’s made a request. He’s asking for your permission.

You nod, feeling your stiff neck creak in protest.

Warmth. It’s sudden, and startling, but you can remember what warmth feels like now as Otto’s hands take yours. He pulls you gently back around to the sink, turns the tap to hot, and brings your hands under the stream.

“It’s okay, I promise,” he says. “You’re still here. I’ve got you.”

It’s like watching a tv program of someone else’s hands being rinsed of soap. Then dried. Otto hesitates for a second, then he gingerly tucks an arm around your chilled shoulders and steers you toward the living room.

You’re not sure you’ve ever walked before. Or sat before. The movement feels just as distant as everything else, even as your body sinks into the couch cushions.

“Stay put,” Otto says. As if you could move. He walks away, then returns a minute later with a glass of water which he presses into your numb hands.

“Drink.”

And somehow your alien muscles remember this command, though your mind is far away. You drink.

The water is cold, but a different kind of cold than the one still freezing you from the inside out. It somehow cuts through that chill. You gasp, then drink again. When you can’t remember why you’re holding an empty glass, Otto carefully takes it from you and sets it on the coffee table.

Weight sinks into the couch beside you. Your voice crackles in your throat as you finally remember where it comes from, and maybe even how to use it.

“Otto?” you rasp. “Otto, I— I’m really cold.”

And then it’s there again, that incredible warmth. Otto’s arm is heavy as he wraps it around your shoulders, but it’s a welcome weight. It’s grounding. He pulls you close, then reaches over and grabs a nearby blanket. In one smooth motion, he covers you with the soft fabric.

He gently, tenderly takes one of your hands in his once more, and leans his cheek on the top of your head.

“Are you okay like this?” he asks. You nod again. He sighs with what sounds like relief, rubbing your arm with his free hand.

“You’re going to be fine, okay?” he whispers. “You’re going to be fine. I’m here, and you’re safe. You’re safe.”

He takes a deep breath, and you find your lungs filling in response.

“Please let me know if you’d prefer to not be touched,” he says after a moment. Your heart thumps oddly. The idea of him leaving is far worse than anything else right now.

“Don’t go,” you manage to whisper. “Stay.”

He pulls you even closer against him, his body beginning to bring the warmth back to yours.

“I’ll stay, my dear, I promise. You’re going to be okay.”

His fingers squeeze your hand gently, and it really is your hand now, isn’t it? You turn your face, pressing your nose into his collar, and breathe. He smells just like he always does, a comforting mix of scents that reminds you of home. You close your eyes.

“Otto?” you mumble. Your voice is your own again, your throat, your body, they all belong to you once more.

“Yes, my dear?” he replies. The sound of his voice is one you could never get tired of listening to.

“I love you,” you tell him. You can almost feel him smile.

“I love you too,” he says, and the warmth you feel from hearing those words is pure sunlight, chasing away the remaining cold in your chest until you glow from the inside out.

#cerbin answers #asks #cerbin writes #doc ock #x reader #doc ock x reader #panic attack tw #hurt/comfort #okay but being comforted like this is just really special #I hope this isn’t too angsty #😥#if it’s too angsty for you plz lmk!! I can always take another prompt😆

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taestefully-in-luv · 3 years

Text

The Island | KTH (One)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 9.3k

Warnings: swearing

Notes: Alright here is the first ch to my new story! I am super nervous to post this because it is a completely different vibe. But I hope you guys enjoy! Don’t worry, it turns fluffier later:) let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @monvieesdaebak @707sblog @peacedreamer14

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

Your room is blinding from the soft yet striking sunrise, each beam of light swims through the blinds in piercing waves. The intense glow hits you in your sleepy state, causing you to wake from your glorious slumber. Too bright. You sit up in your bed, attempting to rub away the sleep that crusts your eyes. You begin to slowly open one lid at a time, taking in the neat appearance of your room. Your room looks the same as always—there is a nightstand next to your wooden framed bed, it holds a pale lamp and a photo of mountainous scenery. A dresser sits comfortably in front of you, it is dressed in simple décor and a large mirror. Yup, the same as always. You glance over to your sheer curtained window where the sun very offendedly washes over the room—wait. Hold on a god damn second.

Quickly, you begin to open your eyes just a bit wider—where is your royal purple ottoman? The art that hangs on your walls? Your dresser is brown not black for Christ’s sake! You ball your hand in the sheets…these don’t even feel like your sheets, yours aren’t this silky. This is not your room. Your eyebrows climb to the top of your forehead as you jerk your head around. Where the hell are you? Suddenly, you feel something rustle against your side. No…not something—someone.

Your eyes dart to the right of you, where this someone moves against the sheets. Not just someone. A man. His dark, ruffled hair sticks out between the sheets and pillow below his head. Why is there a man in bed with you? Is it…his bed? Oh god. Immediately, your mind tries to recall the night before. Did you go out and drink too much? Go home with a rando? Super unlike you though. You pull your hair as your mind races.

Sitting up in bed, worry crosses all of your features. You try to face all the possibilities that could maybe end up being your reality. But going out and partying is nowhere in your memories. You begin gnawing on your bottom lip, knowing you stayed home last night. And that you fell asleep in your own bed…alone, you might add. So where the hell are you? And why is there another person? Fear enters the picture now, this is the last place you wanted to go. You know, that horrible, terrible, dark place? The one that says your reality is that some creepy man kidnapped you and plans on doing murder-y type things to you. Yup, that place.

You tug on the end of your hair again, you know, you know, a bad habit. But you can’t help it as anxiety grows deeper within you. Were you really kidnapped? Fuck. You have to think. You’re trying to, at least. But breathing is becoming a chore. Your breaths are quick and sharp like you are on the brink of a panic attack. Shit, maybe you are. You try to eye the room again, taking in its appearance more carefully. You can’t help the shiver that speeds down your spine when you notice how perfect this single bedroom is…it actually almost resembles your guest bedroom at home. Which is creepy in itself. You continue to eye the room curiously, while staying absolutely frozen.

The dresser has more photos of pretty scenery sitting on top, as well as a few small vases that complement the rest of the décor. Anxiety continues to grow within you, shaking you to the core. You hate the way your hands tremble in your lap. You want to do something. You truly do but fuck, you can’t even move a muscle. Your breathing begins to pick up even more. Where are you? Why are you here? Who is this man sleeping so fucking peacefully next to you? Your thoughts are going 100 miles per minute, screaming at you, taunting you, giving you the middle finger.

Before you can think through your many obvious questions and answer them, the man next to you begins to stir in his sleep. You watch with wide eyes as he slowly moves to his back from his side. You stare down at him, too scared to move. Too scared to scream bloody murder. Too scared to do anything. And nothing disappoints you more. That you are nothing but a coward. You look down at your future murderer and wait for him to wake.

Future murderer slowly opens his eyes but he shies away instantly from the beaming sunlight.

“Ahhhh.” He lets go in one long breath, rubbing at his eyes in a sleepy manner. You sit still, your own breath caught in your throat. You want to move but fear has you frozen like an evening in the arctic. The man, or Future Murderer as you seemed to have named him, begins sitting up, stretching his arms out above him and yawns a song of sleep. He finally opens his eyes fully and soaks in the room before him. His head moves around quickly, his expression becoming rather…confused.

“What the fuck?”

Yup, those are his first words. Should have been yours too, if you’re being honest. This guy gets it.

Future Murderer’s facial expression grows bewildered as he looks around the room and when he finally feels your presence, he turns his head your way.

“Uh…” the Murderer narrows his eyes at you, “Hi?”

You don’t even realize the sigh of relief that pushes past your lips, but his confusion seems…genuine. And this allows you to relax your shoulders a little bit. Maybe he is a victim to whatever is going on too? You take in his disheveled appearance; he has brown wavy hair that rests above his brow line, eyes darker than the deepest part of the sea and full pouting lips. You would totally admit he’s attractive as hell but considering the fact you’re trying to convince yourself he isn’t going to murder you and the state you’re in, you’re going to push that thought away.

“Uh, who are you?” His brows knit together as he expectantly waits for an answer.

“No, who are you?” You squint at him. How dare he ask like you aren’t the one totally frazzled here? But somehow it’s comforting that he seems as confused as you are. Mystery man (his new name, since he doesn’t appear to want to murder you) (maybe) raises a single brow at you before answering,

“Taehyung.”

You listen to his name roll off his tongue and absorb it. Taehyung, huh? You hesitate for a second before finally giving your own name.

“y/n.”

Taehyung then, has the audacity to pinch his nose in annoyance. To be fair, it looks like the one he’s annoyed with is himself and not you.

“Look, sorry…” he begins, “If we hooked up last night, I don’t really remember and I—"

Your eyes widen at his words and you begin to frantically shake your head,

“No! We didn’t—we didn’t…”

“Oh?” Taehyung gives you a curious look then has the audacity to scoot several inches away from you. Then you feel his eyes on you, they search you from head to toe. You’re wearing your cat printed PJ shorts and a simple purple t shirt. You admit your hair is probably pretty wild, so you card your fingers through your locks. You start to feel insecure under his gaze as he so shamelessly eyes you.

“I don’t know who you are or where I am…do you know where we are?” you question, looking off to the side.

Taehyung pulls his eyes away from you, his head moving around to look around the room, his arms flailing.

“Does it look like I know where I am?”

You only blink at him and he rolls his eyes, “No, I don’t.” he admits.

Moments of silence pass between the two of you. You don’t know what to say at this point even though you have a million things you would like to say. But you can’t form one, coherent sentence apparently. You don’t know anything. You’re fucking clueless and you hate it. You’re trying to gather your thoughts when you feel Taehyung rise from the bed, startling you like he just committed a crime. God, you are such a coward. What? Do you really think the bed is apparently some super safe place that will protect you from the evils of the world? Taehyung walks toward the dresser and other corners of the room, inspecting it carefully.

“Fucking weird, but nice room, right?” he asks under his breath. Taehyung throws a glance over at you. “You don’t know where you are…I don’t know where I am…we both wake up in a strange room and neither of us have any recollection of how we got here.” Taehyung takes a pause to gather his thoughts. “Have you heard anything? You know, from outside the room? There could be other people.” He waits for you to answer but you stay quiet. Yes, you are on that level of coward.

You stay in the bed, anxiety building up, growing fiercer by the second. While it seems Taehyung’s attention is being stolen by the large window where the sun invites him to come take a peak. He tip toes over to the window, lifting the blinds and exposes something you imagine takes his breath way due to his audible gasp.

“Where…the fuck are we?” he asks breathlessly.

Instead of looking for yourself, you stay seated. But are we surprised? You study Taehyung’s expressions, watching for his reactions. His face falls into one of awe but after only a few moments in settles back into confusion. He reaches for the bottom of the window sill and lifts upwards, opening the window and releasing the sound of…is that waves? You continue to observe him, too afraid to see for yourself. He stands there for several long moments before turning your way and he clears his throat.

“I—I don’t…I don’t know where we are, like, really.” He takes a hesitant step towards the bed. “But something tells me neither of us are from here.”

You need a minute. Yeah, you need a minute to process his words. Because what the fuck does he mean by that? You aren’t ‘from here’? Are you on another planet or some shit? This man needs to work on his wording, for Christ’s sake. You feel your hand move just the slightest. Then your other hand. Your toes curl in and out. Seems you aren’t so frozen anymore. Things are, yes things as in waking up with a total stranger and him saying you are in an unknown place, are starting to wake you up. You’re so ashamed your solution to all of this was to stay seated in bed…but for some reason a rushing sensation of bravery washes over you.

You rise from the sheets and step one foot on to the floor. It’s not lava. So you step down with both feet and make your way over to Taehyung. You stop in front of him, tilting your head up since he has several inches over you—but nothing too intimidating, you decide. His eyes find yours and you lock eyes for a few moments. Both of you trying to search the other for answers. You break contact to face the window and wow. Your eyes animatedly widen at the sight. Palm trees and water for miles and miles it seems. No other buildings or sign of life. An island? But not the kind of island where this room is a part of some fancy resort, no, not that kind. Instead the kind where a plane crashes and a group of people have to survive.

You blink down at your new reality. First of all, you live nowhere near an island, so there’s that. You feel the anxiety and frustrations begin to surface again and you can’t help that your eyes begin to gloss over. You snap your head back to get a look at your fellow victim and he looks just as lost as you feel.

“We need to find out what’s going on.” Taehyung takes a deep breath, lifting his head up. He locks his eyes with yours again but you break contact to look at your feet.

“We don’t know anything…would if it’s not safe?” you quietly try to reason.

“Exactly, we don’t know anything and that’s a problem. You don’t expect us to stay in this room forever, do you?”

He has a point and you know it. You want to follow him out of this room but your feet seem to be glued to the floor.

“Well, no. But—”

“Didn’t think so.” He turns away from you, his body shuffling towards the bedrooms door but before he can become out of reach your hand flies to his shirt sleeve, tugging it softly.

“Wait! Just hold on—” Your voice wavers and Taehyung rolls his eyes. Rolls his fucking eyes at you!

“Listen, come. Or don’t. I don’t really care.” Taehyung releases your hold on his shirt, unsticking your fingers and throwing your hand towards your body. “Decide.” He states before swiftly turning around to head towards the door.

Oh. So this guy is a fucking asshole. Noted.

You end up following him because although he was rude about it, feeling someone’s touch when you feel so scared was slightly comforting and yes, you are aware of how fucking pathetic that is.

Taehyung stands in front of the door, his hand reaching for the knob when he turns his head to say, “Just trust me.”

And now you are the one rolling your eyes. Trust him? You just met the dude! 10 minutes ago his name was Future Murderer. How could you possibly trust this asshole?

“How can I trust you? I literally just met you.” The scowl on your face deepens when he smirks.

“Are you always such a fucking baby?”

“Are you always such a fucking baby?” you mock, eyes rolling so far into the back of your head. Okay, you admit you aren’t being the most mature here. But Taehyung doesn’t seem to take offense to it by the way he gasps and throws a hand over his heart as if wounded.

“Oh? She’s got some sass?” His question and raised brows only piss you off.

“Whatever. Let’s go.” You aren’t entirely sure where the confidence comes from but you don’t question it. You’re breezing past him, your shoulder knocking into his as you approach the door.

You feel Taehyung’s eyes on you and hear him mumble a lame, ‘that’s the spirit’ from behind you. And with that, in one swift action you are opening the door.

You stand in the open doorway, once again frozen in place. Not feeling as confident as you were 15 second ago—maybe you just need this dude to piss you off again. Speak of the devil, Taehyung steps besides you, poking his head out into the hallway searching for any sign of life.

“It’s quiet.” He takes a few steps forward, now in the middle of the hall. You glance around, the hallway has walls full of beautiful artwork, and to the right is 3 doors and to the left is a wide staircase. An exit. Bingo.

“Let’s check each room.” And of course he wants to do the opposite.

“No, let’s just get out of here.”

You turn on your feet towards the stairs and stop at the first step and raise a brow over your shoulder, “Aren’t you coming?”

Taehyung looks conflicted to say the least. He exhales deeply, looking between you and the 3 doors.

“Shouldn’t we just—”

“No! come on…” You must sound pleading and convincing because you can see him falter, just a bit. “I just want to go home…” You say, averting his gaze. Taehyung only stares at you for what feels like an eternity before he’s finally agreeing with the nod of his head.

The two of you very cautiously step down the stairs, each foot that follows the other slightly trembles in the fear of the unknown. You two finally reach the bottom and your eyes go wide at the sight. This is basically your fucking dream house. The floor plan is very open. At the center is a gorgeous grand piano, you don’t play but it’s aesthetically pleasing you guess? To the right is a long table with picture frames and décor and down the hall there seems to be more rooms.

You scan the downstairs as you slide your fingers along the edge of this table and stop when you come across a framed photo. What the actual fuck. Your eyebrows rise and your eyes grow twice their size. You very hesitantly pick up the picture as your eyes blink down at the frame in hand when your breathing begins to pick up again. It’s a framed photo of you and your sister . Now why the hell would this be here? Why is there a picture of you and your sister?? Why would someone have this? The framed photo sits in your trembling hands as you stare down at it. Taehyung notices your shaky grip on this picture and takes it from you to take a look himself. His eyes also go wide…you look between him and the picture.

“Why…why the hell is this here?” your voice betrays you as it shakes with every word.

Taehyung glances down at the table and notices his own photos with friends and family that are disgustingly and proudly displayed.

“What the actual fuck?” Taehyung whispers to no one but himself. What the hell is going on? Why does this house have pictures of the two of you? Who is doing this? Is this some sort of sick joke?

“What’s happening Taehyung?” you step closer to him feeling entirely…creeped out.

“Does it look like I fucking know?” he snaps. He sees you flinch and his eyes soften, “Sorry…Its just… this is going too far.” He finally looks as disturbed as you feel. The two of you stay quiet for a few moments, neither of you knowing how to react to this eerie discovery.

You shudder at how ominous this all is. This is becoming way too much. How much more of this can you handle? You almost want to jump into this assholes arms and sob into his navy blue t shirt.

“We should…” Taehyung wipes his sweaty hands on his sweats, “keep going.”

The two of you nod your heads in unison and turn to your left where there is an entry way to the kitchen and living room. Taehyung stops before stepping through while you join him at his side. You two glance around to soak in your surroundings—it’s also an open space, the two open areas sharing a space. The kitchen is covered in black granite and wooden cabinets with a door that probably leads outside. The living room has two matching sofas, a wide screen TV that hangs on the wall over a fireplace and built in shelves on either side, full of books, movies and games.

Taehyung and you share a look before walking through to the kitchen and living room. You approach the rooms slowly and carefully, afraid of what you might find. What surprises could be lurking. Suddenly the white glow of the TV can be seen, making you jump with its sudden brightness. Why the hell did the TV just turn on? Is this like, a haunted house? Are you being fucking haunted? Okay, maybe that’s dramatic.

The screen is bright white with nothing else on it. You turn to face Taehyung who is already staring at you with brows pinched together in confusion. Same Taehyung, same. The two of you decide to walk closer to the TV when dark, bold numbers appear.

“10….9…8…..”

The sound of soft music can be heard playing from the TV, similar to the music that’s played in an elevator, as numbers counting down from 10 begins. You feel your insides twist and turn.

“….7….6…..”

Panicked, the two of you inch closer and closer. You two stand here waiting for something, anything to occur because these might be the longest 10 seconds of your life. The millions of questions you have only multiplying. With the seconds counting down and getting closer to zero, your breathing about fucking stops. What is going to happen? You can feel your palms grow sweaty as your heart beats out of your chest. It feels like the countdown to the end of the world.

“….5….4….3…”

You don’t think Taehyung realizes just how close he is to you, his shoulders bumping into yours. You guess fear does funny things even between strangers.

“….2…..1…….”

And then it finally happens. The timer finally reaches fucking zero. And it is safe to safe your attention has been caught…anyone’s would be if a screen greets them with their god damn names.

“Welcome Kim Taehyung and Y/N Y/LN”

Your names on the screen has you automatically feeling nauseas. What sort of sick game is this? Is someone setting you up? Pranking you? If so, shits not funny. But also, why is Taehyung here? Your eyes focus on the screen as it moves to the next slide.

“It is a great honor that you two have made it this far. You have been carefully selected in this company’s project. After a lot of consideration and impressive results—we have decided to move you to the next phase.”

Naturally, very naturally you become even more confused than you fucking started. What projects? What company? You can hear Taehyung swallow hard, his nerves spiking with each word he reads. Then the slides continue.

“To put it simply, we are in the business of love.”

Huh? Huh?

Taehyung and you break your focus on the screen to steal a glance as one another very briefly before turning your heads back to the TV. What the hell they mean love? What is this absolute nonsense?

“Our use of science, technology and logic has got us here today. We test and heavily observe our chosen subjects and decide if they are the perfect match. We then move them to the final phase: The Island. This is where the two subjects meet and get along for the first time. The place they will undoubtedly fall in love.”

You can’t help that your mouth falls open, you are sure your eyes are bulging out of your head. You dare to turn to look at Taehyung and he isn’t looking much better.

Before you can really gather any thoughts the slides continue.

“Our success rate is 99%. You WILL fall in love here, it is most probable. Other subjects will come to fall in love quickly, other will take their time. BUT don’t take too long~ If two subjects are taking too long to make progress we will send a ‘Request’ to move things along and if you fail to meet said request there will be a penalty. And you have 24 hours to complete the request. This is to help you.”

You shiver while reading the words before you. You are now too anxious to even look at Taehyung right now…you don’t want to even see his reaction to all of this. Is he anxious like you? Is he laughing because there’s no way this is real? Is he nodding along taking notes because he believes it? You don’t want to fucking know!

“We give soulmates the opportunity to meet and thrive. This particular project has been in the works for well over a year.”

You blink lazily at that. Well over a year? WELL OVER A YEAR? They’ve been watching you for over a year?!

“We have carefully observed each one of you in great detail. There is nothing we don’t know. We have matched you two to be most compatible.”

Nothing they don’t know? What the hell does that mean? How exactly did they fucking observe you two? You stand here with eyes wide open and mouth agape. Taehyung mirrors your expression. He doesn’t want to believe this either.

“And you two are finally ready to proceed with The Island.”

The two of you stand in the living room, dumbstruck. Absolutely dumbstruck. You aren’t even able to look at one another for more than a hot second. A harsh blush creeping on your face and you cringe because there’s no way you could blush for this asshole.

You just…you cannot believe any of this. You refuse to. This is ridiculous. Insane.

“This island is only for the two of you. Designed specifically for you. You are being constantly monitored. Hidden cameras are placed all around the house. Minus the bedrooms and bathrooms. The décor and food is to each of your likings, we want you to feel at home as possible. Everything including books, movies, games and rooms are to your likings and match your hobbies.”

Wait a minute. You frantically shake your head, blinking furiously. Constantly being monitored? AKA you’re being fucked spied on? How are you supposed to do anything knowing you’re being watched?

“Your families have already been notified of your absence.”

You feel your heart drop. You didn’t even consider how they might feel.

“You will return safely once we feel we are satisfied with the results. This can be 3 months, 6 months, a year or even more.”

You feel Taehyung spin to face you in complete shock.

“We understand this may seem awkward at first but things will evolve naturally. So you should not worry.”

These words do not bring the least bit of comfort.

“Besides the ‘Requests’ we will not interfere. This is YOUR time to fall in love.”

“Thank you so much for your ongoing participation and please enjoy your new home and of course, each other. <3”

The added heart at the end of the last slide has both of you scrunching your faces in disgust. With that, the TV shuts off, showing nothing but the dark black screen and the reflection of two ghosts. What. The. Fuck.

You’re sure your expression is as clear as day; a mix between anger and hopelessness. You don’t want to look at Taehyung, not after everything you just read but you know you should. So you tip your head to the side to get a good look at him. Worry. All you see is worry. Look, he might be hot as hell but there ain’t no way you can fall in love with this dude. But also, you don’t know anything. You gulp, there is one thing you know. You’re going to be sick.

Your nausea is so built up, it’s at the entrance of your throat begging for release. You stand here, running a clammy hand through your hair. You are going to puke, you know it.

Without any further thinking, you run towards the back door in the kitchen that thankfully leads to outside. You run down a path that you pray to the God’s that this path does lead to the ocean so you can drown yourself in some good ol’ waves. Your anxiety has you out of breath before the run does. You finally reach sand that is warm and grainy under your bare feet and follow it to the shore.

It’s beautiful actually. The view. You wish you could really take it all in and let the calmness of the waves relax you but you are seconds away from upchucking last night’s pizza rolls. But it never comes. Your guts never make it out of your body but the anxiety remains. Falling to the ground, you pull your knees into your chest, trying to breathe and most importantly trying not to cry. This is no use though and to be honest you don’t try very hard because tears are cascading down your face within seconds. You can feel the burning in your chest as hot tears fall onto the warmth of your cheeks and it breaks you further. You sit here and wonder if you are really stuck here in this place and with a complete and total stranger. The same thought stays with you as you ball into yourself.

You sit here, indulging in quiet sobs until they finally ease into soft sniffles. You reach up to wipe your eyes, ridding yourself of tears and the thoughts that came along with them. You need to think more clearly. Okay, positive thoughts. Come on y/n, you can do this. Positive thoughts. First off, you’re not alone. You are not the only victim here. You have an acquaintance here who you are sure isn’t very pleased about this either. But wait—would if this guy is a total weirdo? A psycho? Okay, maybe being positive is harder than you thought. Plus he was a total asshole to you earlier. But maybe that will change?

You stand to your feet, feeling more determined than before. You are going to try to make the best out of this shitty situation. You brush away the annoying leftover grains of sand from your legs and your behind and turn around to make your journey back to the house, your ‘home’. Ew, you did not just call it that, you shudder at the thought. Before you start walking, you spot Taehyung aka your ‘soulmate’ ew, you did not just him call him that— sitting, leaning against a tree. Yup, right next to where you just had snot running down your nose. Before spiraling into embarrassment, you take a good look at him and oh. You step towards him and his eyes follow your movements until you are seated next to him. He’s tense, that’s for sure. But you can’t really blame him, now can you? You are a little bit selfish, aren’t you? He is clearly freaking out too yet you ran out on him. You can see his expressions now: confused, anger, upset. And something you can’t quite figure out.

Taehyung looks your way and offers you a small, tense smile and then turns his head away from you to face the ocean again, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I’m not going to fall in love with you.”

You really don’t want to feel offended because hey, that’s fair. But still, this asshole doesn’t even know you so you roll your eyes.

“I’m not going to fall in love with you dude.”

Taehyung glances at you and gives you a look, like he knows that’s impossible.

“Sure.” He says.

“You don’t fall in love with me.” You snap back, feeling like you won something.

“Yeah, that won’t be a problem.” He deadpans.

“Listen…you’re not a psycho, are you?” You narrow your eyes at him. Taehyung stares at you for a second before he dramatically rolls his eyes at you, then he narrows his own eyes.

“I’m not a psycho,” he defends, a serious expression drawn on his face. “But how do I know you’re not?”

You bite down on your lip as if really contemplating,

“Fair point.” You smile cheekily but then your face falls into a frown. “This isn’t…real, right?” you try to brush back your hair behind your ear but the wind makes it difficult. “The TV…this is a joke, right?”

Taehyung looks on towards the ocean, the big blue waves crashing in the distance. He is silent for several long, annoyingly long moments. You can’t help but wonder what goes inside his head, what is he thinking? What is he feeling? It’s got to be similar to you, right?

“Let’s say it is real. There’s a company who…who…spied on us for a year. What does that mean? They hacked our phones? Hacked our homes? How far did they go? They said they know everything…” Taehyung pauses, flinching at his own words. “So, say they do. They believe after all their research we make a good match…the perfect match, apparently.”

“Yeah, I highly doubt that.” You cut in. “We couldn’t even get along in the first 10 minutes—”

“That’s because you were being a baby.”

“That’s because you were being a—Shut up.” You huff.

“Who’s being rude now?” Taehyung smirks. “Listen, I think it’s best if we just play it safe. But I am serious…I won’t be falling in love with you. And I am not a psycho.”

“And I am serious too, I won’t.” you remind him, annoyed. “It’s you who should be careful.” You poke your tongue out and Taehyung rolls his eyes.

“So do you like pancakes? Mister Not Psycho.” You look at him with a playful smirk and he wastes no time to curve his lips downwards.

“Pancakes?” he lifts his brows but then a scowl takes over, “I’m not falling in love with you even if you make me pancakes. I still can’t get over this…they spied on us for a year y/n. Invaded our privacy…this is too much. Too much to be thinking about god damn pancakes”

“Yeah but it seems like we’re stuck together,” you reason, “Whether we like it or not. So you can maybe try not to be such an asshole to me? When I’m just as much of a victim as you are. And we still have to eat.”

Taehyung’s mouth drops a little, then he closes it, screwing his eyes shut. “You’re right…I’m sorry,” he stands to his feet. “This is all just so crazy and a lot to take in…”

“I know…” you pause, “It’s sort of like being on a vacation—”

“Just stop.”

Taehyung walks past you, heading back inside the house. Leaving you alone with nothing but the ocean.

You stare off into the wide unknown, the oceans blue emptiness swallowing you whole. This looks like a dream vacation spot, if you’re being honest. But this? This was about to be the vacation from Hell.

~~~~~~~~

You and Taehyung walk through the door back into the kitchen, a look of grimace on his face while you frown. You two decide to check out what this place has to offer. You’re both clearly skeptical of this whole entire situation, well at least he is. He feels like the only one who is acting appropriately. But he can safely assume you probably are feeling a bit skeptical yourself. You two check to see is there is anything safe to eat—if there even is food. He doesn’t know what to believe. Was this situation, he doesn’t know…real? True? Every word he read, is a loud echo in his mind screaming at him. How could he even take this seriously? How could you take this seriously? This is fucking insane! He looks over at you, who is rummaging through cabinets, you look the same as a few minutes ago—calm with an unsure expression painting your features. He hates how calm you look, he can’t help but feel so annoyed by you.

He takes a look in the large, silver fridge and is pleasantly surprised to see many foods that he likes; lots of fresh fruits, juices, milk, sandwich meats, so on. It is fully stocked. He reaches inside the fridge for a bowl a fresh fruit, his other hand grabbing for a can of whipped cream. He gives you a look and nods towards the bowl.

“Should we test them? See if we die from poison or some shit?” he half jokes, his bitter tone shining through. You try to ignore his bad attitude and smile.

“We’re testing them with a can of whipped cream?” you go for a lighter approach but he just rolls his eyes.

“Go big or go home, am I right ladies?”

You snort. Real life snort. And you consider being embarrassed but you see Taehyung’s eyes light up in amusement before they’re darkening again.

You reach for a strawberry and pop that thang in your mouth, so he does the same. You two chew cautiously, the flavor and juices bursting. These might be the best god damn strawberries either of you have ever had. Such a shame they are being enjoyed in such a situation. He turns to face you, the you who is now stuffing your face with strawberry after strawberry, he can’t help but let a chuckle slip between his lips.

“What? Go big or go home…” you pause, a smirk playing at your lips. “Right ladies?” Taehyung only rolls his eyes at your smart mouth, he won’t allow himself to laugh.

Taehyung is still trying to gather his impression of you. When you first met you were a total cry baby, then you were just annoying and now you’re trying your best to be calm. He recalls how you ugly cried just outside—god, you have been a roller coaster of a person but considering your situation he understands why.

He believes he was more unbothered and brave after having first woken up…but after seeing those framed photos he got freaked the fuck out, to put it simply. Then the TV…everything just went downhill from there. And he sees what you’re doing…you’re trying to be strong. And he hates you for it. Why is he being the weak one here? How are you doing it with such ease? He’s spiraling. His whole life just got put on pause. His dreams and aspirations? Pause. Friends and family? Pause. His love life? P-Pause? He can’t help but worry over every detail, not to mention…is any of this the truth? Are you two just supposed to believe the god forsaken words that you read on the TV screen? And you went on about this being like a damn vacation. Unbelievable! But all he can do right now is breathe in and breathe out and try to be himself. Which at the moment is a really unhappy person.

You and Taehyung continue reaching into the bowl for more refreshing fruit, your fingers brushing against one another like this is a god damn Hallmark movie, but you don’t seem to be fazed by it so he won’t either. Even though it’s driving him crazy, he doesn’t want to touch you. He wonders what your thoughts are on the whole ‘love’ thing? It’s ridiculous. Don’t get him wrong, in a different situation he could see himself getting along with someone like you, maybe even hook up…but fall in love? Not likely. Plus he already has someone. Sort of.

“Ah, wait…” He pauses mid bite.

“Hm?” you hum, mouth full.

“Aren’t we like, supposed to be finding pancake mix or whatever shit you wanted to find?”

With a roll of your eyes, you lick your fingers clean while the other hand lays rest on you hip. (And no, his eyes did not linger when you sucked on your fingers and no, they did not travel down to your hand that rest comfortably on your nice hips.)(And no, he did not just think your hips are nice.)

“Couldn’t find any!” you dramatically yell out, “You guys FAILED us!” you then look over at him with a smirk, “So much for being experts right?” you scoff, he almost wants to laugh at your dramatics but he just stares at you blankly.

But soon that blank stare is changing into a sour one when he realizes just who you are talking to…the very company that trapped you here. The one that’s watching over you right now. Or so they say.

“We should inspect the whole house.” He says seriously, “You know, get to know this ‘vacation home’ or whatever bullshit you said.”

You look down at your feet, feeling fucking embarrassed.

“Sorry for calling it that I—”

“I know,” Taehyung kind of smiles, “You were just trying to make us feel better. I get it.” His tone is softer than even he intended.

“It didn’t really help, did it?” you scratch the top of your head, feeling sheepish.

“Not really.” He answers honestly, with hard eyes. “Now come on, let’s check things out.”

You nod your head with an eye roll, he still chooses to be dickish.

The two of you walk into the living room to the entertainment center. The TV is surrounded by shelves of books, movies, and games. Apparently all to your liking, so you guess you will see how true that is.

“Woah, there’s Mortal Kombat. Sweet.” You comment, the game case in your hand.

“Woah, I can kick your ass at Mortal Kombat. Sweet.” Taehyung plainly responds while shuffling other games between his hands.

“Don’t even. I will play you right now.” You try lightening the mood but he just rolls his eyes.

“We have other important things to do, need I remind you?” he begins lecturing you and you scoff.

“You don’t need to remind me our shitty situation. Your stupid face is reminder enough.” You bite.

“Oh?” Taehyung continues to look through cases, barely paying attention to you.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat. “There’s tons of movies here and TV shows as well,” you gesture toward the bottom of the shelf. “Some I have never seen before,” you squat down, your fingers brushing against DVD cases until you stop at one in particular, pulling it out. “Like, what the hell is ‘Castaway on the Moon’?”

Taehyung’s eyes widen, “UH, only my most favorite movie ever?” he says, taking the case from you.

“Looks weird.” You comment plainly.

“Weird—it’s not weird! It’s actually really good I swear, actually you know what?” Taehyung huffs out, it’s the first time you’re seeing him get so worked up. It’s amusing. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.” He pouts, clearly wounded you would think to call his favorite movie ‘weird’.

“Plus, who’s weird?” he asks, “What’s with all this anime? I know it ain’t mine.”

You jut out your bottom lip in guilt, your cheeks turning a rosy pink.

“Well, well…”

“Well, well…” he mocks, feeling satisfied.

You raise your eyes to meet his and walk an inch towards him, never breaking contact.

“I’ll give yours a shot, if you give mine a shot?” you challenge, sticking out your hand. He guesses you want him to shake it.

He takes a moment to let his eyes linger on yours. They’re dark. Plain. Boring. Nothing special. He looks away and scoffs but the idea of sharing his favorite movie with someone does pique his interest.

“Deal.” He says, going in for the handshake. He feels your hand in his and doesn’t expect your skin to be so soft.

“Deal.” You say with an evil glint in your eye. “I’m going to make you watch so much good shit.” You continue to hold on to his hand, you look down at them and become slightly shy. You just remembered your situation. You keep staring for an odd amount of time before you drop his hand and shake your head.

“Should we check out the other rooms?” you start walking towards the entry way back into the main area of the house, but stop to turn and look at him.

“Yeah, I suppose we can do that.” He answers back, trying to sound as neutral as possible.

The two of you walk back into the main area where the rooms are located. He hesitantly creaks open the first door. He’s met with a room so fitting. A room full of art supplies. Drawing boards, brushes, paint, etc. He feels his palms pool with sweat.

“Do you make art?” you question, looking up at him.

“Yeah.” He gulps, feeling creeped out all over again. “They really did their research, huh?” he whispers to himself.

You two stand in the doorway, taking it all in. Taking in what this could really mean for you two. It begs the question: Were they really spying on you for over a year? Do they really know everything there is to know about you two?

You softly nudge Taehyung, “Why don’t we move on to the next room?” you suggest. He turns his head to face you as he swallows hard, nodding his head in agreement.

The next room is nothing spectacular, just a home gym.

“You work out?” he asks.

“Barely,” you admit, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I always have the excuse of not having time or not wanting to go all the way to a gym. Guess I have no excuse now.” You look up at him with a sheepish grin. It’s hard to believe you don’t work out, Taehyung thinks. You have great legs.

“I see.” He turns his back to you, exiting the room.

The next room really wows Taehyung. He doesn’t mean for it to. He wants to hate this place.

It’s a room full of musical instruments and recording equipment.

“Holy shit.” He accidentally lets out. He walks around the room, touching things with just his fingertips. “This is like grade A equipment, I could only dream of owning shit like this.” He truly does not mean to be in awe of the music room, you know, because the enemies gave it to him but holy shit!

There’s only one room left and you swear to god it better be for you. You two slowly open the door together to reveal an interests of yours.

“Is this…? Like, a dance studio or something?” He questions, glancing around the room, “Are you a dancer?” he finally looks at you and he seems quite impressed.

You look…surprised, to say the least. Your brows shooting up all the way toward your hairline, your eyes darting all around the room.

“N-Not exactly…I mean, kind of?” you admit, your eyes falling to your hands. He tilts his head in confusion.

“I…I just have a serious interest I guess you could say,” you look all around the room again, “But I,” you play with your fingers. “I have never said it out loud to anyone.”

“Oh.” Taehyung breathes out in understanding. So, these fuckers really did spy on you guys. In depth. You both feel goosebumps rise on your arms, making you both feel a chill.

“Let’s head upstairs. Shall we?”

The upstairs has 4 doors in total. You both know the door closest to the staircase is the bedroom you woke up in.

“There’s no bathroom in this room,” he motions towards the door. “And the closet was empty. So, it’s not the master and that—”

“That means there’s multiple bedrooms.” you finish for him, and you both sigh in relief.

He means, this place has a goal of getting you together, so he wouldn’t be surprised if they only offered you one bedroom, but thank the God that he doesn’t believe in that there’s more than one bedroom.

“Yeah exactly,” he breathes out. “I’m willing to bet the door at the end of the hall is the master. Wanna just skip ahead?”

“Sure,” you agree, walking past him to beat him to the door at the end of hall. But you wait for him to reach the door as well before you’re reaching for the knob and slowly turning it, swinging the door open.

The room is big, a huge king size bed in the center of the back wall. Thankfully, the drapes are dark so not a lot of natural sunlight enters the room, Taehyung thinks.

“Hell yeah, dark curtains.” You say excitedly. Obviously reading his mind.

He follows behind you, keeping his comments to himself as you ooh and aah at your surroundings. He is impressed by the rooms simple yet he guesses you could say intriguing décor. Definitely fits his style, but he won’t say that out loud. As an artist himself, the paintings on the walls are very pleasing to the eye. He wonders if they suit you as well. If you’re his ‘soulmate’ they would, he thinks bitterly. He could see himself adding his own artwork to this room. He wonders if you would be okay with that as well—wait. What is he saying? It’s not like you two will be sharing this room!

You drag your fingers across the comforter on the bed.

“Soft.” You mumble to yourself.

He chews on his lips for a moment before speaking, “You can have it…” he shifts from one foot to the other. “The room, I mean. I’ll just take the other bedroom.”

“Really? You sure?” The excitement is evident in your voice. “Wait no—that’s not very fair. We could thumb wrestle for it or—”

He raises a brow, “Thumb wrestle? Really?”

“Mortal Kombat?” you offer.

“That just wouldn’t be fair, I would win too easily.” He says, not impressed. “Just take the room. I’m sure.”

“Fine…thank you.” you bow your head down in defeat.

The two of you walk towards the master bath and your eyes come close to popping out of your heads. It is huge! And super fancy! He’s not good at fancy words but he’ll put it simply, the countertop is long with two sinks. Two sinks. The shower has one of those rain shower head things and woah. That’s for like, rich people. The way you are gawking at this bathroom tells him you’re having the same thoughts as him. Yours are probably fancy like, “This extravagant marble bathtub looks exquisite against these cream colored walls. Very…dashing.” Or some wild shit like that.

The closet is next, He’ll be completely honest. He forgot you would need clothes and shit. But holy moly, there are rows and rows of clothes, both yours and his. There is jewelry (Not really sure why that’s necessary but like, okay) and shoes on shelves against the walls. It was more than he owned himself back at home.

“Honestly I forgot about needing clothes…since we like…live here now.” The words are sour leaving your mouth, he can tell. But also, you are obviously reading his mind again.

“What? You thought you would be wearing your cute little PJ’s 24/7 or what? Wear nothing at all maybe?” he asks, shuffling from one foot to the other. He’s uncomfortable.

“ha-ha.” you deadpan. “I just haven’t really thought about what this all entails is all.”

He frowns at your words,

“We should probably talk about it, right? What this all means, I mean.” His questions causes a shift in the atmosphere. The air becoming a little thicker.

You only nod and turn on your feet to head back into the bedroom. He quickly follows behind you, both of you stopping at the foot of the bed.

“Let’s talk then.” You bite your lip, swaying side to side.

He needs to be honest. He is clearly so confused about all this. Fucking puzzled. He means, what if just what if this company was real? And this company was…right? Are you really a match made in heaven? No, that can’t be. That would be fucking ridiculous. He’s being ridiculous for even considering it. But you two obviously need to talk. Have a fucking chit chat.

You plop down on the edge of the bed and he follows your lead, finding a spot right next to you. Your knee shakes up and down quickly while you play with the hem of your shirt. You’re obviously nervous as fuck, which he can’t really blame you. He watches you for a few moments before hesitantly placing a hand over your shaking knee, trying to stop the anxious movement and hoping to God he is not crossing any serious lines, he’s just really getting annoyed by your shaking knee and needs that shit to stop. You turn your head to face him and he is met with a look of frustration. He turns his head to face straight ahead and with a heavy sigh he says, “I feel that way too.” Because it’s true, you both must feel the same. It’s not like you want to be stuck here with him either. Right?

You finally let out a long breath, “How long?” you whisper. “How long will we be stuck here?” you begin to sniffle as your eyes become wet. Shit. He brings his hands to his lap and interlocks his fingers together.

“I…I don’t know.” He answers honestly. “But what are your thoughts? On what we read…” he clears his throat, clarifying as if it wasn’t already obvious.

You suck in a sharp breath, “I don’t know what to believe.” You admit. “But we are…” you gesture between you two, “This is—This is not happening.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes as if that wasn't the most obvious statement in the world. He. Could. Not. Agree. More.

You continue, “Someone deciding for me? On this part of my life? That doesn’t sit right with me. No fucking thank you.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“I mean,” you turn to face him, “You seem decent and all, when you’re not being an ass, but this is all insane. Just insane.” You wear an annoyed expression, shaking your head in disbelief. He breathes out of his nose in attempt to laugh.

“Yeah, you’re telling me.”

“But…” you pause, choosing your next words carefully…you have to be careful with this next part. “But if it’s real? What are we—” and yup, just as expected, you are cut off with just a look. He furrows his brows together and pushes his head back in surprise.

“This can’t be forced y/n.” he states firmly. You raise your hands up in surrender.

“Oh my god, Taehyung. I know that! I fucking know, jeez. But we have to talk about all the possibilities.” You say firmly, “We’re stuck here for who knows how long and you read the same thing as me, right?” you push on, “3 months? 6 months? A fucking year?” you drag a heavy hand down your tired face. “And don’t even get me started on these damn ‘Requests’ and whatever they are!” You are clearly very frustrated…Taehyung looks at you with the same pity you’re sure he feels for himself.

“Okay, okay.” For the first time Taehyung speaks to you much more softly. “Listen, they can’t keep us here forever? We are going to prove we are that 1%. We just got to stay out of one another’s way and just wait it out until they return us home.” Then his frown deepens, “But wait, what about the ‘Requests’?” he asks, concern lacing his voice.

You strum your fingers on your thigh, staring down at your lap, in deep thought.

“I know this is weird but…” Taehyung starts.

“I know, we have to talk about it.” You finally look up at him and your entire face has gone pink.

“If the ‘Requests’ are, I don’t know, “pure” enough, we could just like do them?” you look at him with doe eyes, “Or like, if the penalty isn’t that bad…. I don’t know.” You ramble on.

The thing is, neither of you know what to expect from these ‘Requests’ and their penalties. It’s one huge mystery. And neither you nor Taehyung are a fan of mysteries. Taehyung watches as you begin shaking your knee in total panic again when he clears his throat.

“Hey…I think we can worry about that when or if the time comes, okay?”

“When or if…” you repeat slowly. “Okay.”

He stands from his place at the bed and begins walking towards the bedroom door.

“As long as we stay out of each other’s way, we should be good.”

“Stay out of each other’s way…” you nibble on your lips, “Like, we don’t talk or anything?”

“Precisely. You do your thing, I’ll do mine.”

“But—”

“That’s just the way it’s got to be.”

“Fine.” You speak bitterly, “Fine by me.”

Stuck on a beautiful island in a beautiful house with a beau—with a man. What could possibly go wrong? Vacation from hell, here we go.

#bts #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #taehyung smut #taehyung #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #the island chapter 1

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foreverindreamlandd · 3 years

Note

Bucky wanted to read her fanfictions and she always declined. So he begged and begged and begged... until she finally gives up and let him read one. 'Cause who could really say no to Bucky making puppy eyes?!

Let me know what you think about it

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader

WC: 1.5k (I am apparently incapable of writing a drabble)

A/N: Thank you again for another awesome request! I was basically cackling the whole time I wrote it. Want to read about how Bucky and this reader got together? Check out their origin story in my To Be Wanted series! Only warning in this one is the usual swearin’ like a sailor.

----

“See, this is why I always order Thai food. I can never do it justice.” You frown over your wok, mixing the noodles around with a wooden spoon hoping it will somehow make your creation taste better.

“I’m sure it tastes great, doll.” Bucky walks up next to you and grabs a noodle, tilting his head back as he drops it into his mouth.

His eye twitches almost imperceptibly and you groan.

“It’s good,” he coughs out, trying with all of his strength to regain his composure. “I think you just went a little too hard on the chili paste. I can feel my sinuses clearing up though, which is good, right?”

You roll your eyes. “Can you check the recipe on Pinterest again? I swear I put in the right amount.”

Bucky walks over and picks up your iPad. Right as he’s scrolling to find out if you should have used 2 tablespoons or 2 teaspoons of chili paste, a notification banner pops up and he accidently taps it, opening up your Tumblr app.

Omg! This fic is amazing! The way Bucky is there to support the reader. My heart completely melted! Your Bucky stories are amazing, Y/n! <3

Above the comment is a photo of him. It’s a shot from the news where he’s helping a civilian stand up after one of the attacks made by The Red Hand.

“Uh….love? What’s this?” He holds the iPad up to you and you shift your gaze over to him.

You drop the wooden spoon into the wok as all of the blood drains from your face. You’re frozen in place for a millisecond before you pounce on Bucky to grab the device from him. He’s never seen you move so quickly and it catches him off guard.

“Bucky give me the iPad right now,” you fling your arms toward it and he pulls it away, both amused and a bit concerned by your reaction.

“Wait, what is this? Is it something I should be worried about?”

You see a flicker of panic flash in his eyes and you stop flailing. You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh.

“No, I mean, I should be concerned because if you read that I’m probably going to combust and you’re going to dump me and run for the hills.” He furrows his brows in confusion and you slowly lift up your hand. “Can I please have that back before I have a mild panic attack?”

He stares at you, trying to gauge your emotions. All he can see is panic and sadness and it breaks his heart so he instantly gives in and hands you the iPad.

“Don’t worry about it, love. I trust you.” He leans forward to give you a chaste kiss.

You let out a pained groan against his lips and Bucky is once again confused.

“Ughhhh I hate hiding things from you.” You lock your iPad so the screen goes dark. “Okay, fine, I guess this conversation is happening. Remember when we first started dating and I, uh, mentioned I used to read and write stories about….us being a couple?”

Bucky nods, trying not to reveal any emotion to you that might make you spiral into a panic, and you continue.

“Well, that was one of those stories I wrote. I stopped looking on Tumblr basically as soon as I met you because it got all weird and meta and I got super uncomfy by the idea of reading fanfics - that’s what they’re called - about my new friend/now boyfriend Bucky Barnes. And then we started dating and I was all happy and shit and I totally forgot that those fics were still out there. Obviously I haven’t written any since then because that would be weird for...many, many reasons. Someone must have found an old one and commented on it. I’ll delete it. I’ll delete all of them. I swear. I’m so sorry, Bucky. I should have been more on top of this.”

Bucky stares at you, lips pursed and you grimace, afraid of the next words that are about to come out of his mouth.

This is so weird, Y/n. How could you do this?

No wonder you didn’t date anyone before me.

Obsessed much? (Okay, he probably wouldn’t say it like that but STILL).

No, what Bucky said next was much, much worse than what you could have imagined.

“Can I read one?”

Your mouth drops. Closes. Drops again. You blink rapidly.

“I’m sorry, I just hallucinated. What?”

Bucky points to your iPad, a sly grin forming on his face. “I want to read one of your stories.”

You take a step back from him, horror stricken as you pull the iPad closer to you as if you were protecting your collector’s edition of ‘Throne of Glass.’

“Absolutely not.”

Bucky steps forward and you step back. He chuckles. “Come onnn, doll. I want to know what your fantasies were about me before we got together.” He laughs harder as the look of horror on your face grows more manic.

“Bucky, I know you’re a super soldier and could probably punch me into the sun with your metal arm, but I promise I will fight to the death before I let you read one of these fics.”

You and Bucky continue this dance of him stepping forward and you stepping back until you feel your legs make contact with your couch and you fall back into a sitting position on its arm. Bucky uses this opportunity to tower over you, his arms resting on the couch so that you’re pinned between them.

Then, he pulls out the big guns.

His gaze softens, blue eyes shining into yours. His bottom lip puffs out and he gives you the most adorable, sexiest pout you’ve seen in your whole life.

“Please, love?” He says it with a slightly higher pitch, almost like a whine and it still sounds like honey to your ears. He even nudges your nose with his like a freaking sociopath.

Damn.

You close your eyes, let out a breath, then open them back up to him. “I hate you.”

His pout turns into a boyish grin and he gives you a quick kiss. “You love me.”

You groan. “Hopefully you still love me after this, Buck. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You stand and open up your iPad, scrolling through your masterlist and finding what used to be one of your favorite fluff pieces. You begrudgingly hand it to Bucky and he sits on the couch.

Unable to sit still during this agonizing experience, you proceed to pace around your apartment like a crazy person and resort to cleaning the inside of your microwave which you haven’t done in a few months so it’s a good thing that Bucky is reading your fic so that you could get that out of the way. You probably won’t have a boyfriend in a few minutes but at least your microwave will be spotless.

You only steal a few glances at Bucky as he reads, mortified each time as you see his eyebrows move in every possible direction. Up, down, knit together, were they criss-crossed at one point?

Finally, after what feels like the longest ten minutes of your life, Bucky lets out a soft grunt, placing the iPad down on his lap. He looks up to you and you give him a weak smile.

“Alright, let me have it, Buck. Give me your worst. Be honest. Also, I love you.”

Bucky glances down at the iPad and then back at you.

“Well, I have a few questions.”

Your right eye twitches. “Hm?”

“Now that you’ve met me, do you still think my eyes are an all-consuming storm of blue?” You groan. He grins. “Or do you think my jawline was cut from marble created by the gods?”

This time, you breathe out a laugh and you walk over to sit on his lap. You take hold of his chin.

“Bucky, I don’t think I could ever come up with the right words to describe you. The real thing is quite literally a million times better than anything I’ve ever written.”

His eyebrows raise. “That is...probably the best compliment I’ve ever gotten in my whole damn life.” He leans forward and kisses you, and you sigh into the feeling of his mouth on yours, relief flooding through you.

You pull away, eyes skeptical. “So, you’re not thinking about how you can escape and never see my crazy ass again?”

“On the contrary, love, I’m thinking about how I can convince you to buy this gorgeous green dress you apparently wore as my wedding date. The one that showed off your cleavage in a way that made Bucky’s brain melt.”

The two of you burst out laughing and you lightly shove his chest. “Sure thing, Bucko. How about I work on the dress situation and you work on ordering us Thai food so that we don’t lose our taste buds from whatever the hell I just made.”

-----

Thank you for reading! Feel free to check out my other stuff here. :)

Taglist: @ceo-of-daichi @biiskuitx @forgetthisbull @eclipses-and-moondust @abcdefxkyou @jackiehollanderr @billionsofbeans @abitgryffindorky @lovelylostminds @mija-just-breathe @semlohkratz @bratty-longbottom-replies @carrotfantasimp @cremedelabrulee @ant1r3al1ty @th-e-mg@laura-moehrchen @emma-the-duck17 @sunnyjane4 @rosaline-black @parodsal000 @vicmc624 @abrunettefangirlnerd @officiallykuute @edityourwishingwell @mymindslabyrinth

***This was the original tag list for the To Be Wanted series. If you would like to be removed from the taglist for any other stories related to this series, feel free to DM me! And let me know if you would like to be *added* to the taglist for any other future stories featuring these two knuckleheads. :)

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #to be wanted #james bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #plus size!reader #plus size #fanfic #fanfiction #sebastian stan #inbox

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xxxsoukokuxxx · 3 years

Note

BSD Poe x short(4”11) female reader

Soulmate au

Fluff oneshot

Reader has the ability to turn into a black cat.

Black Cat in the Rue Morgue

Soulmate AU

Character: Poe x short fem!reader

Warnings: None

Notes: Thanks for requesting and for your patience. I haven't written a soulmate AU before so I actually did some research on it and hopefully it pays off. I hope that this is what you wanted and have a pleasant day/night!

The sun was now setting and dipped itself into Yokohama's waters letting it's light drip onto the water's surface. Book in hand, raccoon on his shoulders with a pen in the other hand Poe is lost in his thoughts. The outside world doesn't exist. There is nothing but the various ideas for his novel running through his head and softness of fur against the back of his neck and head.

He jots down a few things that he could elaborate on later. The room is dyed in the color of honey and wine as the fading warmth of the sunset creates a sense of comfort. The side of his face illuminated by the gentle golden color.

Karl suddenly jumps off his shoulders and Poe's startled. His eyes wide, 'How long has it been?' he takes in his surroundings and realizes it's already sunset and soon night will fall upon Yokohama.

Poe gets up, closes his book and stretches with a sickening cracking sound erupting from his back, indeed how long has it been? He looks down to where Karl is sitting on the floor and he reaches to ruffle the fur on his head before leaving the room.

He makes a cup of tea for himself once he's in the kitchen and stares out the window. The sleeve of his shirt slides up a bit as Poe tilts his cup to take a sip, a small scarlet mark of a feline like figure on the underside of his wrist becomes visible. It's always been there but he brushed it off, that was until he came across various articles, theories and fiction books about "soulmates". And he can't help but wonder 'Is there really someone out there who'd love me? Do I have a soulmate? Or is it just a meaningless mark?'

Sometimes he'd think it's preposterous while other times he'd genuinely love that idea. But he always blushes straight after, to imagine spending such intimate moments with someone, to hold their hand, to hold them, to share a meaningful smile...it's really a beautiful thought.

Poe sets his cup down on the counter before adjusting his coat and making his way to the front door of the spacious house and opens it. He peeks through the gap between the door frame and from where he's opened making sure there are no people out at the moment and he sighs a breath of relief. Stepping out into the quiet evening he takes a walk along a specific quiet and peaceful street he likes. Evening and night are the only times he'll ever make it outside the comfort of his home without having an anxiety attack.

As he walks down the pavement a rustling noise can be heard in an alleyway which he is just about to pass. He freezes and the hair on the back of his neck stands up. From the corner of his eye he sees a dark shadow on the floor approaching which makes him panic, "P-Please don't attack me or anything, I really don't have any valuables that you'd wa-" he cut off his sentence as he felt something rub against the bottom of his leg.

Immediately he drops to his knees and buries his face in his hands, "Okay, okay I'll surrender!" he yelps. "..." Nothing. He dares to turn his head towards his left and relief washes over him, a panic stricken face now softens, "Oh, silly me. Always panicking for no good reason." He now looks at a black cat which has it's head tilted to the side out of confusion.

It was the norm for you to roam around the city at night either because you couldn't sleep or you just liked the atmosphere. If someone happened to be walking by and you felt a curious sense of playfulness then you'd just go up and show them some cat-like affection. However, out of all the times you had done so this had never happened. "How cute." he muttered, snapping you out of your thoughts. He reached out to pet the spot atop your head.

'No wonder why cats like this.' was your thought. "I don't see any collar or anything signifying you belong to someone." he said aloud placing his forefinger on his chin. "I can't just leave you here alone, hmm and Karl would have a playmate if I took you back with me...oh but do raccoons and cats get along? They could possibly..." as he rambled on you wondered if this was a good time as any to scram or reveal that you're actually a human who has the ability to turn into a cat, specifically a black one.

You slowly backed away and he noticed. "Oh no don't be scared!" he reaches his hands out to you. Ah, he seemed like such a nice person, a gentle person. You couldn't just leave like that, now could you? A ribbon of grey spun around you with various kanji on it. A bright light flashed and Poe freezes with his hands which wanted to reach out to you. His eyes widen once he sees the sight in front of him and questions everything he knows. His mouth agape.

"Hi." you said shyly whilst dusting your attire. "...you..." he still kneeled on the ground, frozen. You felt nervous but thought that after what he just witnessed it'd be necessary to tell him about yourself. "Uhm, okay I know you think this is weird but there's this thing called abilities and my ability is to turn into a black cat..." you sped through your words while fiddling with your thumbs.

Now he understands. Of course he knows what abilities are. "Oh. Ah, don't worry I know what abilities are. I have one myself." he says standing up, now realizing just how short you are. You look up, "Wait, you do as well?" a certain spark of curiosity in your eyes, I guess having a cat ability allows you to have the same characteristics of a cat. His cheeks have a faint red color on them, you look cute when you're curious.

"Y-Yes, it's called Black Cat in the Rue Morgue." "What a coincidence." you giggle. He rubs the back of his neck and sighs contently, "Yes it is. It allows me to transport my readers into my books." "Oh, you're a writer!?" another spark of curiosity in your eyes. He internally smiled at your apparent excitement, "Yes I am. Ah! Excuse my rudeness, my name is Edgar Allan Poe but you can just call me Poe if you'd like."

A smile adorned your face and you introduced yourself too. "I'm sorry about startling you earlier, I promise you I'm no cat burglar." He blinks and after a moment you both laugh at the little pun made and the situation itself. "I don't think such an innocent looking being could ever do such a thing." he blushes as he says those words and you do too.

He takes a look at his surroundings and back at you. "W-Would you...like to uh join me for a stroll? I was planning on going t-to this cafe that's opened til late?" You look up and smile while silently thinking his stuttering is rather cute. "Sure." The walk there was peaceful and enjoyable, every three seconds he would glance at you and a lingering question would be on his mind but he brushes it off. He tries to get to know you despite his nervousness and he succeeds. Even if it's just the little things such as your favorite color, where you live, if you have any pets.

You both finally reached the cafe and took a seat, he was gentleman about pulling your seat out for you and such. The only part he dreaded was ordering, that anxiousness that would bubble up in his chest made his mouth go dry and he's at a loss for words. The barista comes about and asks if you'd both like to order anything, a simple coffee/latte was fine for you. Poe looked pale and tugged on the front of his shirt. You worried if he was okay but he eventually ordered something to drink off the menu and a sigh of relief escaped him once he was done talking.

"You okay?" His eyes widens as he finally looks up at you again, "Yes. Yeah I'm fine, no need to worry. I just..." he looks down again while rubbing the back of his neck, his hair falling over his eyes. "I'm just really shy if you could say that. Or perhaps i just have social anxiety." he let out a nervous chuckle while lifting his head to smile at you. A giggle escapes you, "I think it's cute." He's taken aback but only because he's not used to being complimented and his face turns red.

The orders are served and the barista bows and leaves again. A light-hearted conversation flitters between you two and Karl comes up somewhere in the conversation, Poe saying that he'd love to let you see him. You tilt your cup to take a sip of your drink and the sleeve of your shirt rides up a bit, revealing a portion of your wrist. Poe is taking a sip too and his eyes flutter over your figure.

His eyes widen once he catches sight of the scarlet mark on your wrist and he chokes. "A-Are you okay?" you put your cup down and panic slightly. "Y-Yes I'm fine." he replies adjusting himself.

"Can I ask you something?" curiosity now lacing his voice. "Sure, go ahead."

"Have you always had that red feline-like mark on your wrist?" You look at the mark and reply that it's always been there, indeed. "I think it's because of my ability but I'm not really sure. Perhaps it's a birthmark." He smiles. "Perhaps it is." Is this what he thinks it is? No...he couldn't possibly just jump to conclusions, but certainly what a coincidence it was. The exact same mark on both your wrists and a meeting like this? A beautiful coincidence it was.

"Why do you ask?" you tilt your head to the side much as you did when you were a cat. And if he didn't think you were any cuter now he'd be damned. "Oh no, just asking." he gives a closed eyes smile.

'Soulmates. How fascinating.' he thinks while smiling at you as you take another sip of your coffee/latte. His eyes wander again to the scarlet mark on your wrist.

And the plot thickens.

#requests #poe x reader #poe x female!reader #poe x fem!reader #edgar allan poe x reader #poe x short fem!reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #scenario #fic #ravenina14 #bsd poe #bsd poe x reader #fluff #poe x reader fluff #soulmate au #poe x reader soulmate au #i understand the header looks shitty

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snelbz · 3 years

Text

Life As We Know It {Chapter 23}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta was torn.

Half of her thought that Cassian was overreacting, but the other half of her thought that his anger and frustration was perfectly justified.

What exactly were they getting into? And, was it what was best for Nyx? Yeah, the last month had been great, but if it didn’t work out, what would that mean for him? Would it be better if she and Cassian had simply remained two friends, co-parenting under one roof?

Nesta’s heart began to beat a little faster.

She felt like she was going into a panic attack.

Cassian and Nyx had been gone for an hour, and every second that passed became more and more unbearable.

She needed him to be there.

She needed to figure this out.

She just didn’t know what the answer was.

Alis had gotten into her head, there was no doubt about that. A little over an hour ago, she was living in a dream, then Alis came in, out of nowhere, and brought her back to reality.

She was sitting on the couch, almost exactly where he’d left her, when he finally returned. He was covered in sweat, his t-shirt sticking to him. Nyx was having a conversation with him, more to himself though, since it didn’t seem like Cassian was even close to paying attention to him. But his eyes went directly to Nesta as soon as he walked in.

She’d changed. She no longer wore his t-shirt, instead in a loose shirt of her own and a pair of jeans, and her hair was loose and wet around her face. As if she’d need to shower their night together, shower him off of her. Not a shred of that beautiful skin was showing, not like she’d been doing lately. Leggings and shorts and tank tops. She’d been comfortable around him.

With a scoff, Cassian set Nyx down on the floor. He headed for the stairs, but Nesta stood, nearly toppling the cup of coffee she’d been clutching over as she set it on the coffee table. “Cassian, we need to talk about this.”

He paused, waving a hand towards her. “What for? It looks like you’ve already made your decision.”

“I need you to calm down,” she said, steadily. “I need you to think logically.”

Cassian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I need you to tell me.”

Nesta hesitated. “Tell you what?”

“If this is something you want to pursue or if I just wasted the last couple months falling in love with you,” he finished.

His voice may have lacked emotion, but Nesta felt every word like a stab in the chest. Falling in love with you. Those were the words she was going to tell him today, under much different circumstances.

Now, she didn’t know what to think.

Now, she was overwhelmed.

Now, all of her thoughts were rushing toward the same spot in the middle of her skull at a thousand miles an hour, and when they got there, her head would explode.

“It’s not that easy,” she said, and her voice cracked.

“But it should be,” Cassian said. “If you feel the way that I do, it should be that easy.”

“We have to think of Nyx,” she breathed.

“I am thinking of Nyx,” he said, struggling to keep his voice low. At the sound of his name, the baby turned to look at him. “I want him to grow up in a happy home, seeing two people who love each other, and damn it if that isn’t how it’s been for the past few weeks.”

“It’s not that simple,” Nesta said, shaking her head. “What happens if we break up? What happens if we get in a fight or something happens to one of us? What then?”

He had strode down the stairs and was in front of her before he could stop himself. He framed her face in his hands, like he had so many times the past month, to kiss her, to make love to her, to show her how he cared for her. “Why are you worrying about the what if’s? Why are you worrying about what could go wrong, rather than how right everything has been?”

Because everything goes wrong eventually. The only reason we’re together is because we were shoved into this house after the worst thing imaginable happened. They died. We took over. What right do we have to be happy?

The words flooded her mind, but stilled on her tongue.

Nesta didn’t push him away. She wanted to reach up on her toes and kiss him, softly, but she didn’t.

Instead, she met his gaze. “Cass,” she breathed.

The pain in his eyes nearly shattered her heart into a million pieces.

Nyx had walked up to them and was hugging Nesta’s leg, as if he knew that she needed the comfort.

“Dont say my name like that,” he whispered.

Nesta slowly shook her head. “I just think this has all happened too quickly. We haven’t been thinking, we’ve just been acting-.”

“You’re pushing me away,” Cassian interrupted, swallowing harshly. “Damn it, Nesta.”

“You don’t understand,” she pleaded.

“Because you’re not making sense,” he argued. “Things have been perfect—”

“They’re dead!” She cried, pulling from his grip, scooping Nyx up. “Things have been far from perfect. We’re only like this now because Rhys and Feyre are dead.”

The words seemed to freeze something inside of Cassian and he stepped back as well. “So what? We go back to how we used to be? I’m back in the guest room and we awkwardly exchange good mornings over breakfast?”

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the sight of him, the scent of him, everything. “I don’t know, Cassian, I don’t—.” She took a shuddering breath, her arms wrapping tighter around Nyx. “I just need some time to think, to breathe…”

When she looked back up at him, his jaw was set and he was slowly nodding. “Fine. Take your time.”

And then he was moving, back up the stairs before Nesta could even ask what he was doing.

A few minutes later, he was back with a duffle bag in his hands.

“Wh—what are you doing?”

“Giving you space,” he said, refusing to meet her gaze.

Nesta opened her mouth but nothing came out. She was frozen where she stood, her feet stuck to the floor, her mouth hanging open, that panic rising from the pit of her stomach into her heart, which was beating far too quickly.

Cassian kissed Nyx on the forehead as he passed, but paid Nesta no mind as he went for the door.

“Cassian!” She called, at last.

Cassian stopped just in front of the door, keeping his back to her, one hand on the doorknob.

“You're just going to leave?” She asked, quietly, bouncing a sleepy Nyx on her hip. “Just like that?”

Cassian didn’t turn around. “Are you going to ask me to stay?”

Yes. No. I don’t know. Nesta said nothing.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he grumbled, exhaustion lacing his tone. “Maybe I need time to think, too.”

He opened the door and shut it softly behind him.

He didn’t know where else to go. He didn’t have anywhere else to go.

He knew where he wanted to be, but right now…

He couldn’t look at her.

It didn’t escape him that when he’d told her he’d fallen in love with her, she didn’t say it back. He couldn’t even act like he hadn’t seen her eyes flare in panic. So he couldn’t stay there. Couldn’t go back to sleeping in that guest room, not when he’d become so used to sleeping with her in his arms every night.

So Cassian had ended up here, knocking on his brother’s door, thankful that his car had been parked in the driveway when he pulled up.

He needed a drink. He needed someone to tell him he was being an asshole. He needed someone to listen while he vented and bitched. He knew Azriel would do all that for him.

When he answered the door, Seph was in his arms, pulling on his bottom lip. She smiled when she saw Cassian, but Azriel’s surprised smile quickly faded.

“Do I want to know?” He asked, looking at the duffel bag tossed over Cassian’s shoulder.

Cassian sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

Azriel stared at him for a second before stepping aside and letting Cassian pass.

“Are we talking about this now or later?” Azriel asked, shutting the door behind them.

“Beer?” Cassian asked, dropping his bag beside the couch.

“Fridge,” Azriel said, slowly, watching him.

Cassian made his way to the kitchen and threw open the refrigerator door, grabbing a cold bottle and chugging its contents.

Azriel followed, leaning against the countertop and Seph continued to play with his lips.

“Where’s Elain?” Cassian asked, tossing the empty bottle into the trash and getting another.

“Work,” Azriel said, sighing. “So, if this involves smack talking Nesta, you may want to get it out now.”

He shook his head. He didn’t want to do that, barely wanted to think about her. But he owed Azriel at least some explanation.

“The social worker stopped by this morning,” he sighed, leaning back against the counter and opening the beer. “And honestly, yeah, it was unexpected, but I figured it’d be fine. Last time, Nes was drunk off her ass, but we— I figured, since we were more of a family this time, things would be great.”

Azriel blinked. “They’re not taking Nyx, are they?”

Another shake of his head. “No, gods, no. They— She could tell he was in good hands, but she immediately picked up on Nesta and I. What we’ve…become.”

It seemed, just like Cassian, Azriel didn’t see it as a problem. He wasn’t following. “And?”

“And Nyx was hungry so I left the social worker and Nesta alone to get him breakfast. I came back and she’s gone and Nesta is second-guessing our relationship. She asked if I’m just fucking her out of convenience.”

The thought made him sick to his stomach, almost as badly as it hurt his heart.

“And you replied with…” Azriel began, trailing off, waiting for Cassian to finish the sentence.

“I went for a jog,” Cassian said, shrugging.

“So you ran away?” Azriel pushed.

Cassian shot him a look. “No. I went for a jog.”

Azriel sighed. “And when you came back?”

“She said she needed space,” Cassian said, emptying his bottle.

Azriel set Seph on the floor with a plastic spatula, which she instantly start banging on the cabinets. “And that’s when you ran away?”

“I didn’t run,” Cassian snapped. “I gave her what she wanted. I gave her space.”

Azriel slowly shook his head. “Did you even try to talk things out?”

“Yes,” Cassian said, the word clipped. “Told her I was falling in love with her, and guess how she replied?”

Azriel watched his brother.

“Didn’t say a fucking word,” Cassian finished.

When Azriel didn’t speak, he walked back to the trash can, dropping the bottle inside.

“Quit looking at me like I’m the bad guy here,” he said, unable to turn around and look his brother in the eye. “She was ending it. She was calling things off and I’m supposed to, what? Just keep living there like we were before? Pretend nothing has changed?” He swallowed hard, willing the damn tears clouding his vision to fade. They wouldn’t. “She didn’t even ask me to stay.”

Azriel sighed, opening a cabinet beside the fridge that Seph couldn’t reach. He produced a bottle of whiskey and set it on the counter. “I can’t drink until Elain gets home. And I absolutely think you need to talk to Nesta, but I think you’re right. You need to stay here tonight. Give her space.”

Cassian blinked, and a tear that was holding on slid free, down his cheek. He angrily wiped it away. He felt ridiculous, but it had been a long time since he had told a woman that he loved her. He’d never said it in his adulthood. A couple times in his teens, before he knew what the word really meant, but never as an adult.

He’d said it.

He’d meant it.

And she hadn’t felt the same.

Cassian nodded and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

Nesta stared at Cassian’s contact on her phone screen.

She wanted to press the call button, but didn’t.

She did open a blank text a few times, but couldn’t type anything.

She didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what to do.

She knew what she wanted.

She wanted Cassian.

But, she didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

She had never been one who was dependent on a man, had spent most of her twenties single and having no problem with it. But suddenly, she couldn’t imagine her day to day life without Cassian in it. And that terrified her.

She heard murmuring on the baby monitor sitting next to her on the side table and glanced over to see Nyx sitting up in his crib.

It had been nearly three hours since Cassian left, and aside from putting Nyx down for a nap, Nesta had barely moved. She still sat in the same spot on the couch she’d been in when the social worker had shown up and when she’d ignored that Cassian had said that he loved her.

The words should have filled her with joy and she should have screamed from the rooftops that she loved him, too. Instead she locked up and thought she was going to be sick.

What was wrong with her?

Wiping away the tears she didn’t even realize had fallen, Nesta hurried up the stairs, and into Nyx’s nursery. He reached for her the moment he saw her, his own big, blue eyes beginning to fill with tears.

“What’s wrong, bubba?” She cooed, resting his head against her shoulder.

After a deep sigh, he looked up at her and reached for a tear that had fallen down her cheek. His lip began to wobble.

“I’m okay,” Nesta promised, even though her voice cracked and those tears continued. “I’m okay, buddy, I promise.”

Nyx knew, though.

He knew something wasn’t right.

He knew Cassian was gone.

He knew Nesta was heartbroken.

Little did he know that her heartbreak was self-inflicted.

Nyx laid his head back on her shoulder and clung to her. He stayed like that as she walked back downstairs and sat back in her spot on the couch.

He held onto her, looking around the room. She knew he was looking for him and was about to tell him he wasn’t here when he spoke. The word wasn’t a mash up of noises like it had always been. No, it was a true and steady word. His first word.

“Dada?”

Nesta froze. She didn’t even know what to say. Should she tell him Cassian wasn’t his father? He probably wouldn’t even understand, just like he didn’t understand where Rhys and Feyre had gone.

But…for all intents and purposes, Cassian was his daddy now. And she was his mama.

So she pressed a kiss to his dark hair and whispered. “He had to leave, baby. He had to go for a little while.”

Nesta hoped and prayed that Cassian would walk back through that door, and yet, she couldn’t muster the courage to ask him to.

That night, instead of Cassian taking up the spot next to her, it was Nyx, who held her hand until they both fell asleep.

#snacmc lawki #life as we know it #lawki #snacmc collab #snelbz tacmc collab #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #nessian #nesta #cassian

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